The Liliad

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The Liliad is the most recent TL;DR feel-generating story on /b/ and although it has been completed, fantards are still bitching about part 8.

WARNING: Reading this article can cause a variety of symptoms including but not limited to:

NOTE: Not to be confused with that epic poem written 3000 years ago that you were forced to read in high school/college.

The Story

All the 7 parts of the story revolve around OP, a basement-dweller who tries to get into the pants of a girl in his age and ends up falling in love with her 11-year-old sister.

The original text

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7


This tale starts just over a decade ago. Today I am a 25-year-old semi-basement dweller, but once upon a time I was a 14-year-old total basement dweller. My human contact was limited to people I spoke to through AOL and those people I accidentally bumped into in school hallways. My father’s business partner had a daughter who was my age, and in a desperate attempt to keep their son from going full-disappoint on them, my parents did everything to get us together.

This resulted in me helping her set up her family’s computer and install an instant messaging program. We started talking every now and then, but still never acknowledged each other in person. She was my first real “friend” in my teenage years despite not being a friend at all. Predictably I fell in love with her, but she didn’t notice/care. ;_;

So time passes, after about six months of online talking I got invited to her place for a movie. Exciting! This was almost definitely set up by our parents, but I still went along with it, as being a beta loser fag wasn’t something I’d totally accepted yet.

At her home we settled on the couch while her parents fled to give us ‘space’. She didn’t pay much attention to me, just silently watched the movie. After some time her little sister joined us, and the two of them talked a bit. it was awkward. as. fuck. To the extent that I remember it today. I got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

Within a couple months they moved to another country. Oh well the end.

Just kidding, not the end. After they moved we continued to talk online, though looking back I guess I sort of noticed a personality shift. Maybe it was from being somewhere new, but she appeared to be more excited to talk to me and more interested in me. As my interests barely extended past pokemon and somethingawful I did my best to keep up with her cultural references. After a while she was really warming up to me and making me feel like I was worth something. Yes…all this happened in the warm glow of a computer screen, but it still felt very real to a skinny loser. I was happy.

It had been about a year and a half since we were ‘set up’, and I was still in love with her, though of course I said nothing about it. My father planned a trip to head out to their home to check on the company out there — I hopped on that trip as fast as I could. We were going to meet face to face for the first time in nine months or so and I stupidly hoped that maybe…well, whatever.

When we arrived it was clear my social circle was going to be small. I don’t speak Spanish (uh oh, now you can narrow down their location!) and was limited basically to expats. Which, in this area, was basically my ‘friend’, her sister, and her parents.

The plane ride was interminable, it felt like it took days. I was so nervous — I’d even stupidly bought her a gift in the airport, some stupid Americana tchotchke that I thought would remind her of home.

Our first evening was going to be spent having dinner with the family. I was pumped, sort of, in the way that makes you feel like you’re going to shit yourself. We’d been talking like old friends for months, about everything.

(It may seem like I’m leaving out something essential here. It’ll be clearer soon.)

Her mother opened the door of their nice home in a gated community. As I stepped in, I looked all around, seeing only her sister and mother, not her, practically dripping sweat. The gift seemed incredibly stupid now as I held it in quavering hands.

She didn’t show up until dinner. As we ate, she barely looked at me, didn’t speak to me at all. I was horrified, what the fuck was going on? When we finished eating I managed to corner her in the kitchen.

"Hey." She just looked at me. I probably blathered for a bit, but then I said: "I’ve really liked talking to you."

She looked taken aback.

"I haven’t been talking to you."

My heart sank approximately as low as the deep web.

That shut me up. The night ended extremely uncomfortably. I couldn’t look at her, and ended p giving the gift to her mother, which came across as ‘adorable’, just the thing a 15-year-old wants to hear. My eyes didn’t leave the floor. We’ve all had that feeling - shaky bowels, face red and pounding, palms sweaty as fuck. I felt tricked and stupid.

(Fortunately 4chan had just been launched, so I was able to go and hang out with my new best friends that night!)

The trip lasted a few more days. I found ways to not have to go to their home except for another uncomfortable meal.

I’d been really stupid. This girl didn’t care about me, I was just a forever alone waiting to happen. When we got back home to the good old UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, seeing her username online made me well up with anger. What the fuck was her problem? My anger was palpable as I demanded that she explain herself. Why did she say she wasn’t talking to me when we were talking at that moment??

"this is lily."

I probably stared at that sentence for five minutes before shutting the computer off.

Oh, right. An explanation.

Lily was my “friend“‘s 11 year old sister.

The hell?

I swore to never use the internet again. I had been tricked by a little kid and it felt horrible, especially considering the sort of emotional things I had been talking to her about. Oh god, the way she had looked at me during our meals, the fact that she had met me at the door, it started to make sense, and it wasn’t good.

But don’t forget who the main character here is - a hormonal baby /b/-tard. We see where this is going. Hang on. By some miracle I did manage to stay away from the computer for a solid day or two. A feat of mental strength I’ve yet to match. And when I did get back on it, I saw her username flash green and immediately signed off every time.

My masturbatory fantasies got confusing. I was attracted to the girl who was my age - she had boobs, good looks, and all that. Mostly the boobs. But then, her sister was the one…who… It was weird.

One time I wasn’t fast enough, either I wasn’t at the computer or she was invisible or something, who knows. But she got a message onto my screen - “I’m sorry.”

Immediate sign off. But I didn’t block her. Even if my one ‘friend’ wasn’t who I thought she was, I didn’t want to think about not having any friends at all. So we kept playing AOL hide-and-seek.


Over time I started to transfer some of my feelings. I did like the girl I had been talking to. She was fun, and even managed to talk about which water type pokemon was best. If I managed to scrub out her age from my mind, or all my memories of her as the annoying pest ruining all my fun, she was kind of an okay friend. This was all internal, mind you - I still refused to speak to her.

But the walls started to come down. She literally lived a continent away. It wasn’t like she could come get me, or shame me to my school, where I continued to live my completely invisible, friend-less life.

Well…being friends with her wasn’t SO BAD. Was it?

>>510438685 >oh god i know right

No need to play it cool for much longer. We started talking again. Mostly it was me berating her. Why the fuck did she do this? Why did she trick me? This was utterly uncool. Did she tell anyone about it? Did she talk to anyone about the anxiety issues I discussed with her? How the fuck was an eleven-year-old even handling me?

She told me her sister stopped using that account after they moved, it had been her since then. She said she liked talking to me. She said I was cool.


We all know I wasn’t and am not currently cool. Doesn’t change the fact that it feels nice to be told you are cool.

My romantic feelings had no idea where to go. I was not ‘into’ her like that, she was a kid as far as I was concerned.

Our friendship became my biggest secret. An online relationship with a little girl would likely be the final straw my reputation needed to be decimated forever.

We kept talking. It was probably another eight months of talking before the next major development happened. Almost daily chats with her, getting intimate about our personal lives (not like that you pervert), our emotions, everything. She knew more about me than anyone else. I guess it was because she was just a name on a screen, not really a real person. Lily was so far away, she could not hurt me. It was a perfect situation, sort of. Except the part where she was an 11yo girl. Other than that.

I remember posting about this exact thing briefly on /b/, in a topic that died rapidly. I asked if it was weird to have a best friend who was several years younger than you that you only talk to online. 99% of the replies reminded me that girls do not use the internet. A fair point.

Obviously, my dad had to go back down there eventually. When he told me I’d be accompanying him again, to ‘broaden my horizons’ and/or ‘make him hope his son wasn’t a broken human being’, I fought it slightly before lying away in my bed every night, terrified of the meeting I knew was coming. When the plane touched down and I knew I was physically closer to Lily than I had been in a year, I put a smile on my face and tried to stop my nonstop nervous farting.

Seeing her this time was going to be completely different. Lily had been window dressing for the scenes of my life before this moment, now she was suddenly a main player.

Dinner at their home. An almost exact repeat of the situation a year previous. Her mother opened the door. Lily was standing a few paces behind her.

>pic related An important sidebar now:

Lily at 12.

Lily’s mother is Asian, her father is 100% WASP. She picked up the best of all presented DNA and was wearing it proudly. She had almond-shaped eyes, full cheeks with deep dimples, and the most incredible skin I’d ever seen — ivory white, smooth, blemish-free (unlike me at 16, let me tell you). She was short still, while I was horrifically tall, and comparing between the two of us was another reminder. It was winter and she was wearing a sweater, with obvious lumps of breasts underneath that my kinda adolescent mind was immediately trying to dissect - how much was real? how much was bra? was there a bra? etc. You know the drill, you did it too.

One thing I like in a girl is nice hair. Lily had luxurious, slightly curly black hair that she wore pulled back into a pony tail. It gleamed in the light.

She looked good, anon. A kid, mostly, but moving towards something more than a kid.

By the time we sat down for dinner I had the most confusing erection. (a fun reminder that my previous ‘friend’ was now basically invisible to me, I assume she was there too but for the life of me I can’t place her in any of these memories)

I managed to talk through dry lips, probably lots of gross smacking as I tried to get my parched mouth to produce normal speech instead of just grunts and creaky sighs. I had been talking to Lily online for over a year - or just under a year since she told me who she was. She was probably my closest friend.

Every now and then we caught one another’s eye, during dinner and during washing up afterwards. It was always followed by a swift look away, sometimes a slight smile (though I convinced myself I imagined this).

It took one night for me to decide she was definitely cute. I considered the wait - what age was acceptable? 14? 16? A couple years… It seemed doable. Emotionally I was probably still an eight-year-old, so it wasn’t that bad, right? The justifications were so easy and started to come fast and furious (just like me later as I thought about Lily taking off her sweater - the first time I’d actually masturbated to the thought of her, leaving me wondering if I was in fact a goddamn gross dirty pedo bastard). She knew my birthday was coming up. Our in-person talks were severely limited, as we were never alone and I was usually off getting into the “family business” (import/export is the dullest thing in the world, in case you were curious). But she managed to find a moment to slip me a small gift, telling me to open it on my actual birthday.

I had started noticing her outfits every day, started noticing her as a girl and not just a kid. But…it was confusing. I was on /b/ enough to know what pedos were like and what they were into, and while I was into her, sort of, it wasn’t like that. Was it? The mental struggle was starting to consume me as I entered a cycle of jacking off/shaming myself/repeating for infinity.

On the day we left, I passed around handshakes and hugs. When it came to Lily, she put her arms all the way around me, pushing her head into my chest, bumps of breasts in my stomach. I wondered if I imagined she was shaking as she did so, but when she pulled away I saw her eyes shining. She was…sad. Despite our interaction being far more limited than usual, she didn’t want me to go.

My own tears started to well up on the plane. When would I see her again? Another year? Longer?

I ached for her. It was weird.

Was I. Did I. I couldn’t figure it out. It was a weird feeling. I was way too old to be into a girl of that age, halfway through my junior year in high school was not the ideal time to decide to be into a preteen. But I did sort of like her but also I didn’t but also oh god what was I going to do.

The pedos of /b/ had basically normalized it in my mind, what with the constant rounds of loli and pizza being circulated in the early days of /b/. But just because it worked for them didn’t mean it was going to for me.

Anyway let’s get this plot to progress. Upon arrival home we went right back to how we had been, complete with daily chats and constant intrusive thoughts. She was becoming way too important to me, really my only friend outside the other total losers at school who I managed to eat with.

>Moving forward

My father wanted me to get into the family business. Applying for college was on the near horizon, and getting some good experience was smart. So I worked at his office some, it was boring as fuck though I managed to upgrade the IT system from butt to slightly-less-butt which made me feel useful.

When he suggested I go do an international internship with his partner down in the country they were working with, I leapt at the chance. Not only to get great experience and to be in a different culture, but also to, um, well. To see Lily. I wanted to see her and I knew that working with her Dad would mean a pretty constant access stream. The awkwardness of an online friendship taken real-life wouldn’t last for long, would it?

I was 17 and she was 12 and a half and seeing her was all that was in my mind as I prepared for the move, packing, talking with her, brushing up on my Spanish through her help, though she found my sad attempts hilarious. It had only been six months since I’d left her the last time and suddenly I was heading back. This was far sooner than I had anticipated, but hey, I wasn’t going to explain.

Oh god, the sight I was in for. Summer time in south america means lots of immodest clothing and Lily was no exception when the family arrived to meet me at the airport. Her tank top, with spaghetti straps revealing her rounded, narrow shoulders, was burned into my head the moment I saw it. I probably stared at her throughout the airport greeting. We shared a brief, awkward hug - again with me trying not to be so aware of her size compared to mine and the way she felt in my arms. This was a cute girl - or a hot girl? - and she wasn’t into me like that. She wasn’t. Couldn’t be.

Work started. It was boring but profitable. Look, none of us care about that shit. Sadly I was not staying in their home with them. The my-age girl seemed opposed to the idea, implying that they were just setting up some sort of rape fest by putting me in the same house as her. But I was nearby, with coworkers who had a son slightly older than me. It was cool, if difficult as I tried to habla some espanol (I still can’t).

But I got to go over frequently, for meals, social events, etc. It was always Lily and her mother, sometimes her father and rarely her sister, that would take me out to do things (either through a sense of pity or my father paying them, who knows).

I still had access to a computer. So did Lily.

>”This is so awkward to say.” >”what?” >”Its dumb, really.” >”Lol just say it?” >”I think I kind of like you.”

When I typed it, and I am sure I said it far less eloquently like that, it felt like I was just whipping my dick out there for a car to run over. But I had to say it, the summer was a third over and soon I’d be gone and it’d never be the same. Never. Thank goodness that I was still that dumb the summer before senior year.

>”Ok.” >”...sorry...” >”we should talk in person.”

I popped as many boners as loli-chan inspired with her swimsuit series. Soon we moved on to talk about other things. But there it was - we were going to talk about it.

Trying to find alone time with Lily was a near-impossible feat. But we did find it eventually, with her sister away and parents watching a movie while the two of us carefully orchestrated some time where she was supposed to be on the phone while I was leaving. Instead, we sat in their kitchen. Lily was up on the counter, legs dangling, her short-shorts showing off elongating legs with that same incredible ivory skin, smooth and seemingly endless. I tried not to stare for too long at one part of her, but staring was becoming impossible. I was into this girl, no way around it. Fuck. I had become a pedo.

"Anon. It isn’t a big deal." She said it lightly while I heard my heart pounding.

"It kind of is."

"Why do you think I talk to you? We’ve been talking for more than a year."

"You’re being nice. You’re my friend."

"Oh my god. Obviously I like you."

Fortunately she had a social IQ of >5, managing to beat me by a minimum of 4. I couldn’t believe it. My heart went from sinking to leaping, and my dick did much the same. Holy shit she liked me oh my god this was real a girl liked me /b/ was wrong. We agreed we could mutually like each other before a creak from upstairs sent me scurrying back from whence I came. Finding another slot of alone time with her suddenly became top priority, as did finding out what things girls like and researching how to not be a complete beta.

Of course all this frantic excitement was tempered by her age. And the fact that if anyone ever found out any of this, it’d be the end of me. Fortunately I was thinking not with my brain, so this hardly stopped me.

She asked me if I’d ever kissed a girl. I said no.

I asked her if she’d ever had a boyfriend. She said yes, but then qualified that it was in fourth grade. She asked me what made me like her. I answered honestly, describing her personality and what drew me to it, leaving bits about her body — her skin and hair — for the end, trying not to appear too shallow.

She asked me if I would kiss her.

This was two days after the mutual confession of attraction. Saying you like someone is a long way from kissing them. But I said yeah - I wanted to kiss her, and I would given the chance.

She said she was way too short for me to kiss. I said we’d find a way.

The next arrangement of private time took a couple weeks, but it was finally upon us. I all but had an aneurysm when we finally worked it out - her parents were away, and I could go to her room if we stayed quiet and avoided her sister. A stupid plan, but I was willing to do anything.

Oh god. Her room was a reminder of how fucked up I was being — it had stuffed animals in it and even a poster of some Latin heartthrob. But Lily was there too, and she made everything else pale.

We talked for maybe ten seconds, me in her desk chair, her on her bed. Then she pounced at me.

I’ll always remember her outfit - a pair of black exercise shorts with a horse t-shirt. Her hair was in a ponytail. Her feet were bare. The straps of her bra were slightly visible protruding under the thin shirt, and soon easily felt as my hands went around her back.

>captcha: age

Her arms rested on my shoulders, legs splayed to either side of mine as I scrambled to adjust the sudden olympic-size boner that had reacted to this - likely the first amorous touch I’d ever received from a girl.


Her voice was husky, sexy even, way more than it should have been for a girl her age. I wondered how many TV shows she had watched to create this moment. Actually - that’s a lie - I only thought about how light she was in my lap, how close our faces were, how her shy smile made those magnificent dimples appear.


I responded in kind. My voice was probably shaking, and I definitely whispered it as I was terrified of being walked in on. The thought of her age, of this being wrong - it was all gone.

This was my big chance to not be a beta faggot and I took it.

I leaned my head in and kissed her.

Her lips met mine as she moved forward as well. This was my first kiss, hers too, and my god I immediately knew why people liked to kiss. Her lips were so incredibly soft and warm, more than I had imagined. Her hands came around my neck, clasping together, holding me there, our lips moving slightly, mostly mine as I tried to…feel her mouth with my own, the idea of tongue seeming miles away at that moment.

After a solid thirty seconds, maybe less, maybe an infinity more, we pulled away and I smiled at her. Her cheeks were flaming red, I assume mine were as well.


That was me.

She didn’t bother talking. She leaned in for more. I think my hand was probably shaking when I moved it up to her head as our lips pressed against one another. Her hair was so soft, so smooth, and her head felt so small beneath my massive apeman palm. I stroked her head kind of awkwardly as we kissed before deciding that was weird and moving my hands around her back, hugging her into me as I pulled away again for a breath. Her face hovered an inch from mine as she grinned, this time a full toothy grin, seemingly very pleased with herself and the moment. Or something like that. I tried not to read into it very far. Her breasts pressing against my chest were almost the last straw, and when she rocked her hips to bring them almost against mine, I am sure she must have felt the trident I was wielding between my legs.

I decided - fuck it - might as well try. When I leaned in for the next kiss, still no words spoken, I pressed my tongue gently against her lips. As this had JUST been my first kiss I obviously had no clue what I was doing, but her mouth tentatively opened, and I felt her own tongue meet mine, and suddenly they were swirling together, our mouths moving against one another’s in an incredibly more intimate way, my hand now back in her hair, holding the back of her head as we moved against one another.

Holy fuck. I am seriously about to ejaculate just at this memory. It was fucking incredible - whatever you are imagining, multiply it by two.

We continued kissing like this for ten, maybe fifteen minutes. No words, just smiles, breaths, gasps, and two insistent, horny kids trying to get as much out of the other as possible.

The idea of going further was out of the question. That would have been crossing a line. And I at least knew I could make some sort of stand there.

We kissed and kissed.

Look, it is great. I realize being 17 and having a “never been kissed” moment is the ultimate in faggotry, but it was worth waiting all that time for this. It really was. We knew I’d be missed soon. We knew we were tempting fate with her sister in the house.

We pulled away from one another regretfully. When she got off my laugh I almost felt like I could cry. I wanted her there, permanently. Any moral qualms were gone, now it was all about Lily, this girl, whom I suddenly saw as so much more than I ever had before.

"I like you." I think I probably said it first, pathetically. She smiled, lips slightly swollen from all of our fun, glistening with our combined saliva. "I like you too."

I snuck back out and likely masturbated twelve times, once for each year of her life, within the following hour.

Going into work the next day, it took everything I had not to scream in my boss’ face that I had made out with his daughter the previous night. I felt like I was on top of the world and nothing bad could happen. Planning our next meet-up was on the top of my to-do list.

We talked that night. She said she had really liked our time together. I said I had too. I said I hoped it’d happen again soon and she agreed. Oh my goddamn - this girl wanted me too. This had to be a bizarro fantasy dream world, not real life. But the memory of holding Lily was all-too-real.

She was soon my sole masturbatory fantasy. I only wanted her, all the time and everywhere. Only Lily. I definitely reached some level of obsession, and it probably showed when I had dinner with them, desperately trying not to leer at her (she played it incredibly cool every single time, obviously far more mature than I). I just wanted to run into a closet with her briefly, meet her in the bathroom, do anything. I mostly managed to keep this to myself - but in our chats she revealed much the same desire.

It took a couple weeks, but we made it happen again. Back in her room, her in the exact same outfit though this time with her hair down. Me in her chair. Her on my lap. Our faces pressed together, kissing like we needed it to live. Later in a conversation she decided this meant she was my girlfriend. I was fine with this, totally abandoning whatever worries I had had about this situation before. Fuck it, if I got to keep kissing her I was willing to do and say just about anything.

I had a month and a half left before I had to go, and I planned on making the most of it. The desire to take her on a date was strong but ridiculous, there was no way I could get away with that. The desire to go public was barely-kinda there, mostly to shove it in my friend’s faces but as I had no friends and they would just call me a pedo I mostly ignored it.

But the desire to go further. Well, everyone who was ever male knows what that desire is like. How far was Lily willing to go with me? How far was I willing to go with her? Kissing was great - that must mean the ‘rest’ was even better.

I bought condoms, sort of on a whim. After all…I had a girlfriend now. We managed to meet up and kiss one more time before reaching the end of my tenure in south america. It was a sad time, mostly punctuated with me realizing I would do anything to have her around me and her trying to act as if she didn’t care while doing everything she could to empty out her house for me to come over. Despite being a ‘kid’, Lily had some brains and I respected that about her.

I asked her about more in one conversation late at night. She said she wasn’t sure, but since I was her boyfriend maybe we could try ‘lying down and kissing’. This seemed like basically permission to go ahead with anything, so I agreed that some lie-down kissing would be next on the ‘agenda’ when I got to her home. The thought of lying on her bed, stuffed animals looking at us while I defiled their owner… Well, let’s just say that it was no longer morally gross but rather incredibly hot. She wasn’t a kid - she was my girlfriend, albeit a slightly young one. And one that would destroy my life were our relationship to become public. Still, though, my girlfriend.

It was getting down to the wire. Her parents were staying home almost every evening and I was actually doing some things at work. We were down to just over a week together and had only met up and kissed three times, zero times since we had decided to try it out lying down. I knew I was not going home without that attempt ‘in the bag’, no matter what it took.

Finally, Lily realized her parents were definitely going nowhere before I left. We had to come up with an alternate.

She was a good girl, not one for lying, so I knew her parents would believe anything she said. I told her to tell them she was going to a sleepover with school friends - her father was busy enough to not check and her mother’s spanish was shit, so it might just be enough.

They went for it.

Meeting at mine was a no, so we decided to meet at the park just outside their community. It was decent, no homeless people and barely any AIDS. She came in a skirt, and my near-constant erection grew three times its normal size when I saw her. Lily looked incredible, like the first time I saw her in ‘that way’. She was wearing a bra, as usual, I figured in order to make her breasts look slightly larger. Her skirt was dangerously short, so that with each step I wondered if there was a chance of seeing her panties. All in all, she was everything I desired. Everything.

We walked hand in hand for the first time, her small digits clasped tightly around mine, actually parading around like a couple, ignoring the danger of someone who knew either of us seeing us, wandering deeper into a more secluded area of the park. I don’t know exactly what she was planning, but I knew what I was planning. And after all - we hadn’t ever been able to keep our hands off each other before, so I was sure this would be no different.

There was no one on the path. There were ample bushes and the like to prevent an easy vantage point - we ducked off the path and found a clearing that seemed shaped just for us, Lily trailing slightly behind, my hand unable to let hers go. We lay down simultaneously, me pulling her next to me, lying on our hips and facing one another as I began to press my face insistently into hers, tongue tasting that mild sweetness, her own smaller mouth twisting around mine, kissing me hard, deep, almost frantically. This position was uncomfortable, of course, and after a few moments I rolled onto my back, with Lily coming atop me, one leg over my torso, entire body pressed onto mine as we continued to kiss, my hands up and down her back, on her head, brushing her cheek, touching her everywhere. Or at least everywhere ‘safe’.

After a few more moments I rolled over onto her, supporting myself above her, not quite fully atop her, legs still to the side. We kissed like that now - her hands on my cheeks, daintier kissing, more loving, less animalistic. Then I shifted so I was fully on top of her, her legs spreading as my hips went on top of hers in line, my erection pressing into her abdomen without me even bothering to try and hide it. I pressed myself into her, feeling another human against my dick for the first time, her kisses faltering, stopping, and both of us freezing in the moment. The rushing sound in my ears was strange, perhaps just wind, perhaps something past excitement. I looked down at me pushing against her, pressing her skirt further between her legs.

"Um. I have a condom."

It was approximately that smooth, i.e. not smooth at all. She looked at me strangely for a moment.

"I haven’t had my period yet."

Oh jesus christ. How old was this girl again? And was that permission? What now, did I just grab her breasts and go to town, or something else or, or, or… My mind was having a hard time getting around it.

But my cock had a mind of its own. I reached down to her sides, beneath her skirt, feeling her thighs for the first time as I reached to her panties and tugged at them, Lily lifting her hips slightly to let them slide down before she sat up a little to pull them down while I sat up and looked down at her.

Now, that was permission, right? It had to be. She lay back down and flipped up her skirt. I immediately spaghetti everywere. It was my first in-person pussy and it did not let me down. I am unsure what else to say about it, except that just as every other part of Lily was perfect, she was perfect there as well.

And no, there was not any hair.

If I had been better at the sex maybe I would have done more, but as it was I just let out a shuddering gasp and told her she was beautiful. Being a gentleman I asked if she was sure as I scrabbled at my belt, trying to get every stitch off as quickly as possible.

Her eyes may have widened when my boenr sprang into view, who knows. I was overwhelmed, too overwhelmed to pay much attention past this moment. I moved downwards again, on top of her, pressing myself between her legs.

I could feel the head of my penis press into something warm and soft. That was good enough for me, and I let out another groan as I pushed ever so gently against her. Surprise! Sex doesn’t quite work like that, especially when you’re dealing with some unripe goods. I slipped up and out of her on that first push - I could feel my cock pushing before popping upwards, smearing sticky liquid on her as I pulled back for another go. I reached my hand down to hold myself against her before looking at Lily - my darling, my everything, all I wanted in that moment. “Are you okay?”

"Yeah." She breathed. Her chest was rising and falling. Perhaps losing her virginity in a park to a guy five years older than her hadn’t been her plan. But… Here we were.

I positioned, this time felt her labia spread around me, tightly squeezing the tip of my cock. This had to be right. I went even slower, pushing so gently, feeling a slight give, that incredibly tight, hot grip fighting against my entry into her.

It felt like my cock was going to break in half before it finally popped out again, this time bending downwards to press lengthwise almost into the ground. This was not right and I couldn’t really handle much more. Lily was taking deeper breaths, her face red. “I can’t really…” I muttered, looking downwards, our bodies blocking us and finding myself unwilling to pull back for a better luck, just wanting to feel her against me.

I pulled back and pressed against her, not bothering to position, feeling the underside of my penis slide wetly up her pussy. I pressed against her, a slight give in the puffy flesh down there providing me with even more stimulation. I rocked against her several more times - who am I kidding, probably once more, before I groaned, this time much more urgently. Leaning my body upwards and away from her I came, shooting white streaks up onto her shirt, leaving dark stains that in the moment didn’t seem to matter. The sheer amount - and distance - was nothing like my solo experiences, and I was shocked at first before seeing her mild revulsion at the one shot that landed on her collarbone. “Sorry…sorry sorry!” I tried to wipe it up, using my own shirt, spreading it around, getting jizz essentially everywhere. I backed off of her, knees shaking.

"Oh my god, Lily."

Then I came back to her, on top of her, not caring about spreading stains on both of our clothing now as I kissed her, pulling back to say it — “I love you.” Getting back to her house was tricky but we managed it without making it too obvious to anyone that I had just ejaculated all over her outfit.

We had kissed more, lain together, whispered that we loved one another and would do anything for each other before finally deciding it had been long enough. She had always planned on telling her parents the sleepover was cancelled, I guess staying over at mine was never an option (ha).

I sat in my room after all was said and done.

I had just gone from debating whether or not like a 12 year old made me a pedo to cumming on one within the span of eight months. Holy hell.

And I knew one thing - that time didn’t count, and it definitely wasn’t very fun for her. There would be a second time - way better for her, and this time neither of us leaving as virgins.

But plans are all well and good until time comes to an end.

Soon it was time for me to go. We weren’t talking online nearly as much, which I obsessed over, but when we did she seemed to mostly wonder if I had actually enjoyed my time with her as ‘it wasn’t real sex’. Apparently without full-on penetration she didn’t think the guy could like it — I guess her online education included plenty of porn or she was just smart. I assured her I loved it, and her, and nothing would change that. She asked if we could do it again, but this time somewhere nicer. I promised her we would, and this time wherever she wanted.

Other than that we talked about normal things. Missing one another. How we’d stay in touch. Whether or not Zelda has a goddamn victim complex. Just everyday stuff.

When I knew I was getting on a plane the next day, the regrets kicked in. I could’ve snuck into her house, could have done any number of things. This was it! It was over! Fuck! She was feeling it too, as evidenced in our anguished IMs. Lily was afraid about me forgetting her, not caring about her, going back to my nice life and leaving her behind — the ‘little kid’ as she actually referred to herself.

I told her there was no way. I said she was mine, my everything, my first for all we had done together. I could never move past her. I’d wait for as long as it took us to see each other again.

On the way to the airport Lily cried broken-heartedly, not bothering to hide it. Her parents commented that we were good pals. I said yes, telling Lily to cheer up, we’d see each other again.

(the sheer craziness of looking a parent in the eye when you know they washed your semen off their daughter’s clothing is…hard to explain)

I got on the plane.

I cried too. Tears that were very different from the last time. Now I was in love, and aching for Lily. My Lily.

(The fact that she’d turned me into a pedophile was…conveniently left out by my subconscious, which was kind of it)


Getting on the plane was so difficult. It felt like a nightmare when I landed back in the states, back to my family, back to my normal basement-filled existence with only my vidya games and my online friends for company. Talking with Lily was great and I did like it and looked forward to it - but the image of being on top of her, or of her lips on mine, made typing on a keyboard feel stupid.

My masturbatory fantasies were literally solely focused around that encounter in the park. Sometimes I changed it up by just jacking off to the thought of us kissing. Sometimes I dared to imagine the future. Basically, my penis ended up being sore for days by the time I was done with it.

I had a real girl and she lived across (down?) the globe. It wasn’t fair - but it was also exciting. I loved the thought, and could feel myself going full pedo — though I preferred to think of it as going “full Lily”.

I tried to not have all our conversations revolve around sex, but I did remind her over and over that I loved her and that I wanted to kiss her more. She said much the same, sometimes adding that she wondered what others would think if they knew she had a cute boyfriend who was in high school. I attempted not to freak out and tell her I’d die if she told anyone - but she did in fact use the word “cute” to describe me, after seeing my ‘o’ face. The only person to ever see it. It made me wonder if maybe I could actually be desirable or attractive. But fuck it, I was attractive to HER, and no one else mattered.

After several weeks I asked if she was okay with what we had done in the park. I said I was sorry if I had forced her - she just went with the same line, she was disappointed we didn’t get to really ‘do it’. It had been enough for me, as detailed before, but she had hoped to deliver more.

"I’m too small." I remember her saying that, as it mirrored her statement about being too short to kiss. I assured her she wasn’t, that I just didn’t know what I was doing, and one day we could maybe try again. She said she hoped so. And that was enough to have me jacking off like a maniac yet again.

She was turning 13 in a bit over a month. I was happy about this, as it was one year closer to being an acceptable age, even if it was still horribly young when I thought about it - thought about me, acne and braces, at 13. Yet one year closer was one year closer. A five year difference meant literally nothing by the time she was…18? 16? I tried to push the definition, wondering where the line would be.

Trying to shop for your girlfriend who exists in a culture you don’t get in an age you don’t entirely get is hard. I looked around for a while before settling on getting flowers delivered to her from an ‘anonymous friend’.Â

And oh boy did that go over well. I was afraid it was too mature or her parents would catch on, but that night she told me she was overjoyed and her parents assumed it was a boy from school with a crush. It was…perfect. And started a new tradition, that will be mentioned in the future.

We never talked about her body or mine, never got into having ‘cyber’. That seemed sort of like perverting her, more than what I had already done. And plus who knew if she knew how to delete logs or hide her computer activities. Best to play it kind of, but not really, safe.

Her birthday was the precursor to Christmas, and I decided to not do anything big for that, just maybe a picture of me, or an emotional chat, or something. However she got to me first - “guess what I asked for for Christmas”

I did not guess, as my first thought was a doll or an iPod. Of course when you come from decently wealthy stock, as her dad was, gifts tend to be a bit…big.

"i want to go back to america for a week."

SPROING. My pants flew across the room from the power of my erection. I’d waited half a year, and figured I had another half left before I’d see her again. Suddenly there was potential for… soon! Really soon! She hadn’t been back to America since they moved away and the request made sense. They used to live in our city (a big one, don’t ask)

and thus it made sense that they’d come back to the same city if they were going to see their old friends/places. I was overjoyed, especially when she said her dad had bought tickets for the first week of January. I started taking care of personal hygiene and stopped wearing sweatpants and began lifting like a champ (none of that really happened) to prepare for her arrival.

This was going to be it. I was going to open the year, before I turned 18, by losing my virginity. I was going to do it. I was.Â

Power of positive thinking aside, I was just excited to have her back again. Really our emotional bond had hardly changed, we talked all the time, we were just missing everything physical - from holding hands to hugging to kissing to…the ‘beyond’. Or maybe I was just missing it, who knows.

December crawled by. I finished my second to last semester of high school, got accepted to a decent college for business, basically made sure I did not bring shame to my family while I did everything to create a scenario in which my family would be more shamed than one would think possible (um I am not sure that sentence worked, you know what I mean).

Christmas was coming, not that I cared. Each day was like an eternity, and I looked forward to logging onto the computer in the evening just to get in some talking before I went to sleep, praying the next day would come sooner.

Then one day she stopped signing on. A few days off here and there made sense, but in the middle of December she was just gone. Never online, not invisible or anything else. Just…gone. My heart sank when I saw that, immediately traveling down the worst possible solution, assuming she had found a new guy or had told on me or… That it was over. I couldn’t handle it being over. We signed off our chats with “i love you” and/or “i miss you”. How could it end so unceremoniously?

A week passed. No Lily. Christmas day was just me sitting under a massive tree with a huge pit of anxiety in my stomach. Two weeks had passed now - no Lily.

I had been living the dream and it was time to come back to earth. I…tried to find it in myself to accept that.

We were supposed to meet up in my home city. We were supposed to, uh, take one more step in our relationship together. I was supposed to at least be able to kiss her one more time.

Masturbation came to a near-halt as each time I fantasized about that one early evening in the park, all I could see was her face, her smile, and then it vanishing. The way she had vanished, suddenly, leaving me alone.

The first week of January. It had now been three weeks since I’d spoken to her, the longest we’d gone in years.

I was devastated. Thinking about going to college, even thinking about going to classes in high school…it all felt so pointless. My parents noticed something wrong, and I admitted it had to do with a girl, they told me that young love was always like this, like it was the end of the world.

But this was MORE than that, it wasn’t just an immature relationship. It was…she was…

She was my everything.

As I write this I can feel my chest tightening up. That was the furthest I’ve fallen, the darkest I’ve allowed my mind to go. Was it codependency or sick or something else? Maybe.





I had thought about skimming over this part, fortunately I know you guys all know the pain of having something ripped away from you, whether or not you ever really ‘had it’ in the first place.

I knew she was supposedly in our city in early January, and as I woke up each morning I wondered where she was, who she was with, what she was doing. I wondered if she missed me.

It was stupid to wonder, stupid to consider that a lovely girl would-

I was in the midst of just such a downward, flagellating spiral when my mother told me that some Spanish person was on the phone for me.

I assumed immediately, trying to keep my heart from leaping (it did), trying to keep myself from sprinting to the phone (I did), trying to keep my voice from quavering as I said “ola?” (it quavered like WT Snacks when he sees cheese pizza).

"Ola. Puedos ir tu habitacion?"

(Yeah yeah don’t make fun of me at least I tried)

I knew that voice.

I went to my room.

In my room we switched to English, thank moot, as I had reached the limit of my ability the moment I said “ola”. I guess a summer down there hadn’t actually improved the espanol at all.

"It’s me." It was Lily. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t decide what to say before finally settling on “where have you been?” I knew girls don’t like desperate guys and I tried to keep it together, but what the hell, what she’d done was bullshit. "Our computer broke." That made sense. Sort of. "Why didn’t you FIX it?" "My dad got me a new one for Christmas. But I don’t know how to put AOL on it."

To this day I blame Mac OS X and its coolness for almost ending my life. Parents, buy your young daughters Windows computers so their communication with their pervert boyfriends can continue. And that’s the moral of the story.

"Are you here? In America?" My voice sounded like I was on the verge of crying. I cleared my throat and tried to blink away the, uh, mist in my eyes. "Yeah. We got here last night, we’re staying at the [large hotel]." A long pause. I had no idea what to say. My day had suddenly gone from the worst of my life to the best yet (or maybe second best) and I hardly knew what was next. "I missed you so much, I love you, I-"

She interrupted me, which was probably a good thing before I went full-beta on her once again.

"When can I see you?

My first response was I’d sprint to her hotel room in the next five minutes, but tried to play it slightly cooler. “I’m sure our dads have a dinner or something, try and find out.” She hung up and was off. I clung to the phone for dear life, snarling and hissing at my mother when she tried to take it from me, eventually biting her hand off to show her who the alpha was.

It rang again, after ages and ages of waiting. “They had one tomorrow night but I got him to change it to tonight.”

I laughed. Lily’s ability to manipulate her father was always outstanding and it seemed like this was no different. “I told him I’m meeting a friend tomorrow night, but I wanted to see you guys.”

Perfect. In several different ways - she was definitely not meeting a friend the next day. And I would be seeing her TONIGHT. Assuming my parents were fine with the switch, which they had to be due to them being window dressing for this story/my life.

Dinner came. She was wearing a black dress with a wide neckline, one that showed off her collarbone and the upper part of her chest, no cleavage popping despite breasts clearing being shoved upwards by a bra that was clearly a feat of engineering. She was on slight heels, just an inch perhaps, and looked even better than the last time I saw her. Gorgeous, perfect, everything I wanted in one human form. Lily wore a white headband holding her black hair away from her face, a face that shone brightly as she turned and smiled at me.



We hugged awkwardly. My erection said hello within milliseconds, then we all sat down to a meal together.

I tried to talk and not stare at Lily. She looked so good, how could everyone not see it? My counterpart, a fellow senior in high school now, an expert bitch like most senior girls, ignored me.

I seriously considered going to the bathroom with her, or playing footsy under the table, or just running out the front door with her hand in mine until we found a place we could be alone.

Really though the bathroom plan was halfway real in my mind. Quick kisses in the hallway - simple enough, right? But how to get her to come with…hmm… These thoughts took up most of dinner, except when I chimed in to talk business with “the guys”. Other than that I looked like my usual strange closed-off socially maladjusted self.

The mystery of why any girl would like me is still not solved, by the way. Don’t expect a how-to manual at the end of this, I am still as mystified as you are.

Dinner ended. More hugs. I really, really, really wanted to kiss Lily. Just for a moment, just to feel what it was like after half a year without it.

They got in a taxi and were gone. I floated back home and tried to remember how to breathe.

Then the planning went into full effect. I was going to get alone time with Lily and I was going to get it soon. She had an excuse for the following night, and I was going to take advantage of it. We spoke on the phone again that evening — going to my home was not possible, going to her hotel room wasn’t either. Unlike parks in exotic foreign lands, we would definitely be caught by a group of /b/tards and raped to death if we attempted anything out in the open.

So it was time to bust out daddy’s credit card. Or just a pile of cash. Or use the credit card to get a pile of cash.

School vacation was still on. Lily had plans from approximately nine am until seven pm when she was supposedly meeting up with her friends.

We planned it together, after I told her what I was thinking.

I paid for the hotel room — a nice one, though not too nice. I sat back in my home while she did whatever she did with her family. I resisted the urge to masturbate. I wondered if this was going to happen or if a bear was just going to break down the door and eat me. I wondered for hours, tossing and turning, before she called me.

It was on.

I told her the location.

We both took taxis, with me arriving just slightly before her, trying to not look incredibly suspicious as I moseyed past the front desk looking incredibly suspicious. She probably did the same. I was sitting in the room, wearing ‘nice clothes’ - a polo shirt and jeans - when I heard a light knock.

I opened the door. She jumped into my arms. I staggered backwards and closed the door, locking it, wondering… No, no need to wonder. This was about to happen.

Now despite all my research on sex (i.e. all the porn I watched) I was not feeling very confident in my ability to perform oral. This was, in all seriousness, the number one concern in my mind as we kissed one another, held one another, fell backwards onto the bed. I am not sure what she was wearing to be honest, that became a very small matter all things considered. Soon her top was off, revealing the juvenile bra beneath — the first time I’d actually seen her like that. I kissed her firmly, pulling her on top of me, maneuvering her body over mine, marveling in her litheness, her beauty, her…everything.

We pulled away from one another with an almost audible pop, both of us gasping, faces wet and messy, eyes shining, her hair already a mess from me running my hands through it.

"I need to call my mom."

This was almost as much as the period comment, causing me to throb in my pants as she moved to the bedstand, pulling a scrap of paper from her jeans and dialing, informing her mother she had arrived safely. She hung up and I pulled her back to me, onto my lap as I sat with my back up against the headboard, Lily facing me, almost like that first time we had kissed.

I could see her breasts pushing into the bra just inches away from me. I took a long look, not afraid to let her see me enjoy her body, before shifting my eyes back to her face and smiling.

"I love you. I missed you so much."

She grinned. “Do you want me to take it off?”

Honestly each thing she said made me want to blow a load in my pants. But instead I took a breath and nodded.

She seemed to take her goddamn sweet time with it, unsnapping, pulling it forward, letting the patches of fabric hang on her breasts for interminable seconds before letting it fall off.

My first in-person boobs. They did not disappoint at all. Small, just handfuls I would say, topped with soft pink nipples. My mouth was definitely dropped open as I looked and she watched me with obvious delight.

"You’re gorgeous." I breathed it out without even thinking, voice full of lustful desire. My hand came up practically on its own, cupping underneath one youthful breasts, feeling its slight give, the taut warm flesh beneath my hand… Again, enough to make me cum a hundred times over. I leaned in and kissed her, one hand on her boob, the other behind her back, holding her close to me, our mouths opening, coming into one another, kissing like old pros now, like two people fully in love. Obviously at this point her age didn’t matter, nothing mattered, all that mattered was her.

Her nipple didn’t harden - I do remember that quite specifically. I wonder if I fucked up? No matter. It remained soft, pliable, and I rubbed my palm over it for a moment before Lily grimaced and shook her head. This was enough to make me move both hands to her back, smiling apologetically.

She backed off of me, pulling down her tight jeans with mild difficulty, revealing panties with some sort of silly pattern, before getting back onto the bed with me, where I had taken off my own shirt to reveal my oh-so-beautiful skinny torso.Â

We kept kissing. I was trying desperately to take it slow. I knew where this was heading and wanted to do it right - and do it all the way.

The kissing was, honestly, almost enough. If I forgot the sensation of my dick against her then I was able to imagine that I could be satisfied with just kissing.

Seriously, have I said enough about the kissing yet? Let me know.

We rolled over so I was atop her now, her hands lightly pushing against my chest as I bore down on her, mouth nuzzling, probing, tongue against her own. Finally I pulled back and away from her.

I had Lily here, in bed, in her underwear. Nothing to interrupt us. I sat back and took off my own pants, the massive tent of my erection (I’m like sixteen inches you guys) as obvious as anything. “Ahe. I’m sort of…” I had no idea how to explain this. Eh, she had to know what it meant. Or hopefully she did.

I moved between her legs, both of us with our underwear still on, and rocked against her, feeling my erection press into that soft flesh between her legs, her stomach shuddering as she took deep breaths, breasts expanding upwards slightly each time.

"Can we…"

I tried to ask for permission.

"Can we try?"

I am not sure if that is exactly what I said, it was something like that. Then it was her turn — “I love you, anon. I. Love. You.”

Seemed like permission.

I moved backwards and pulled my underwear off, now fully naked with a girl for the first time.

"It’s too big." She pulled her mouth to the side as she took her panties off, then laying back against the headboard, head propped up by pillows.

"We can go slow, it’s okay, we don’t have to-" I started to back off mentally before trying. I wanted to have the right expectations. Maybe it wouldn’t work, maybe she couldn’t, maybe I was actually ‘too big’, though that seemed like such a porn thing to say.

I moved up between her legs, dick bobbing between my own as I lay on top of her. First we kissed some more, feeling our naked bodies against one another for the first time. Her kisses were slightly more hesitant, kind of nervous, or perhaps I was just projecting my own insecurities onto her (almost definitely that).Â

I could feel my penis, slightly wet already, resting on top of her folds. My shaft was lengthwise against her labia, just moving gently up and down, head hovering below her belly button. Finally I propped myself up onto one hand, raising my torso so we met at the hips only.

Pulling back I reached a hand down to try and reposition myself. This time around I noticed she had a tiny bit of fuzz on her pussy, just enough to make me feel slightly less pedo (but not much). Should I have worried about her period? Definitely yes. Did I? Nope.

Lily spread her legs side, those puffy, reddened parting slightly, and I pressed my cockhead against her, this time fully cognizant of what I was doing, seeing it all beneath me, pressing in oh-so-gently and yet firmly. Her folds pressed inwards, dragged in slightly by my penetrating erection, a strange look that made me worry I was hurting her.

I stopped. Looked up at her. “Are you okay?” Maybe it was beta to ask, but I had to. She nodded. “It feels like stretching.”

Well…better than ripping and tearing pain. I withdrew, repositioned, pressed in again. The same thing happened, slight inward folding, about half my cockhead successfully making it ‘in’, but clearly some sort of tight ring preventing me from going further.

I kept going like that. Pull out, press in, try and get a millimeter further each time. It was slow going and I was on the edge of cumming, and ruining the moment, from the instant I saw my penis press inside of her even slightly. Finally, finally, finally I pressed harder, my hands moving to her hips to hold her in place as I tried to get past that first little ‘trial’.Â

I felt a ring of what seemed like muscle pop down around my cockhead. Have you guys felt that? Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

Paused for a moment. Looked at Lily. Kissed her more, until she actually pushed me away with a soft hand on my chest. “You don’t have to stop.”

That took me aback for a moment.

"I want to kiss you. I don’t just…"

I looked at her for a moment, dick buried a solid inch inside of her, trying to decide what my best move was.

"We love each other. This isn’t…some stupid…" I couldn’t find the exact words to say. So I kissed her more.

She didn’t speak up. I felt my dick beating inside of her, my heartbeat seeming to come from the very tip of my cock now. Finally: “I love you too. I do. I want you to…”

It was her turn to trail off.

I was past talking, and looked downwards, humping my hips into her, trying to get any further, feeling like it was an impossible task, especially when I could see 5/6 of my penis outside of her.

With extreme delicacy, trying not to get too, uh, overwhelmed, I pulled myself out and pushed in again, to the same point, right where I felt her ‘snap’ around me. Then out, then in, just that one little bit of my length.

Who knows how long that went on - it could have been an hour or thirty seconds. After a while I felt like I could go deeper, and on one thrust I tried, pushing in a little further, a little faster, a little harder.

FINALLY I felt myself really penetrate her, my dick now slightly further in, the hot grip encasing my head and the top of my shaft. There was a slight resistance inside her, despite it feeling like I could go further. Really hard to describe.

I think you know what I’m trying to describe - I am unsure how many of you have deflowered a thirteen year old, but I have, and I’m here to say it is really hard to put down in words. Won’t stop me from trying though.

So I pushed. And pulled back, and pushed again. It took three attempts, the third more straining, pressing, feeling her clench up against me, her hands suddenly on my stomach as I closed my eyes and strained. Yeah - not quite as romantic as you might hope. And then the resistance was gone, my penis moving inside another inch, maybe less. On pulling back, I saw red fluid on myself, as if I needed confirmation of what had just happened.Â

It dripped onto the bedspread (though I didn’t see this, just discovered it later), those final remnants of Lily’s girlhood.

She was obviously in pain, eyes clenched tight, mouth a thin line that she held closed as well. I said something trite and stupid like “it’s okay”, or even more likely I let out an animalistic gurgle.

But that sort of clenching, stressed-out, pained response had one negative impact on my perfect sexual form - and that was that she had clamped to the point that I couldn’t move in and out of her any more.

Now I did clear my head, or try to, looking down at this beautiful girl, my everything, moving a hand from her hip to her face, stroking my thumb against her cheek.

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry - it’s okay."

I did not magically become a porn star at any point, so things stayed pretty real, sorry if you are expecting a unicorn to pop out of her ass while I fuck her mouth. (I’m looking at you, furry guy)

But she did open her eyes finally, smiling for real now, shiny with slight tears. I didn’t try and explain it to her, she wasn’t a five-year-old, but instead just kissed her nose, running my hand up and down her side now, moving my kisses to her upper lip, then her full mouth. As I did this, I started to move my hips again, gently, feeling myself go in noticeably deeper. I was still ‘bottoming out’ before I got myself fully inside of her, but I figured that this was to be expected.

I was actually fucking her. I looked down at my penis shifting in and out, her labia dragged inward and outward with it, the blood still present, along with plenty of other liquids I wasn’t about to try and identify.

A year previous I’d have been surprised had I died NOT a virgin, and now here I was, having sex in a hotel room. Having sex! Yes, these thoughts were actually in my head. It was exciting to finally be doing it, even if I was a little late (little did I know that 18 isn’t really that late). And with someone I loved, and someone who loved me back, enough to do this with me…it was…Â

I could have almost cried, were it not for the bolts of pleasure shooting through my body each time our hips came together, each time I thrust into Lily’s body, each time I felt myself begin to slide out of her…it was indescribable. Better than kissing, better than masturbating, better even than dubs (no seriously).

The time it took you to read this is almost definitely longer than the amount of time I lasted, though in my memory we fucked like old lovers for a minimum of six hours. The idea of even bothering to pull out was silly - I had managed to get inside her, I was going to end there as well.

I could feel it building-

My balls tightened as I picked up my pace, now thrusting in and out more frantically, with less timing and precision, mouth probably hanging open, first looking between us to see myself actually penetrating her, before deciding that wasn’t what I wanted to cum while looking at — I moved my eyes up her body, to Lily, my beloved, my everything. She was looking down as well, but then up at me as she felt my gaze shift.

I tried to say I love you, it came out more like grunts, and then-

I felt myself unload inside her, hot jets spurting inside her body, against her immature womb, the liquid building and making my cock slide easily as I continued to jab into her with each throb of pure pleasure. I saw white, fell downwards onto her as it began to subside, letting out moans as I slowly began to come down, the realization of what we’d just done…if anything turning me on again. No regret, no fear - only love and lust in perfect combination.

I’d just felt my first boob, lost my virginity, taken a girl’s virginity, and cum inside her all in one fell swoop.

Jesus christ please excuse OP while he cums from remembering.

I managed to get off of her before I smothered her to death. The aura of sex lay heavy in the air, and with regret I felt myself slip out of her - a place I never wanted to leave again. I don’t like a mess, but the semen, blood, and lubricating, uh, stuff was basically everywhere and there was no cleaning it up. I checked the clock - she had to be back to hers within the next couple hours. Enough time to cuddle and talk, and maybe…But then again judging by how she was wincing as she sat up, Lily wasn’t going to be up for round 2 in the near future.

"That was…amazing."

The first thing I said was about as cliched as they come, and I was ashamed of myself but also knew there was no more honest way to express myself.

"I love you."

She said it back this time - “I love you too.” I leaned over to kiss her before standing, walking to the dresser and getting some kleenex to clean myself off a bit, OCD shining through.

I brought her back a handful - as I came towards her I did look lecherously between her legs, where her labia remained parted open slightly, sticky white globules oozing out of her at a slow crawl, an amount I don’t think I’ve ever produced before, creeping down her ass and landing on the bed.

Lily took the tissues and pushed them between her legs.Â

We kissed again, a quick peck on the lips, as she stood up slightly shakily. The amount of stains on the sheets was kind of gross, if not incredible, and she maneuvered to wipe away between her legs several more times, the amount of semen inside of her seeming to finally come to an end.

Whether or not cumming inside her was a bad idea didn’t matter, I had done it and that was that. What did matter was hugging her again, which I did, kissing her forehead - the only place I could reach while I was standing - and telling her I loved her.

"I think I need a shower." Lily said, with a little giggle, my first sign that I could relax and freak out just slightly less. We went into the bathroom together, stood underneath the spray, ran soap over one another.

Of course I was sporting another boner quickly, which made Lily laugh as she noticed it poking her in the belly. “I don’t think I can do that again right now.” She said, looking downwards, the angle just right for me to pick her up and impale her and have shower sex just the way — I broke myself away from that train of thought and nodded.Â

"I can’t help it when I see you!" It felt nice to…not be ashamed of my erections, or of any part of my body, to have someone loving and gorgeous appreciate very bit of me, when she could see literally every flaw.

We got out of the shower and I made the bed again - she put her clothes back on, much to my disappointment, as now that I’d seen her naked it seemed a shame to ever cover it up. I dressed as well. With me sitting on the lovely hotel chair (joke, it was not lovely), Lily got onto my lap, resting her legs sideways over mind, nestling her head underneath my chin. I put my arms around her, pulling her tightly to me. She let out a happy sigh. I did as well. I drew in her scent, the soap of the shower mostly prevalent, perhaps I just imagined an odor of what we’d just done still present on her body.

We stayed like that. Maybe she slept, maybe I did. But the moment she had to leave came far too soon.

She walked out the door, leaving well before me to prevent things from looking odd. Or whatever reasoning my 007 mind had come up with.

My heart wanted to break again as she walked away. But the door closed, and she was gone. I wondered when the next time would be… I wondered if I’d made a huge fucking mistake.

Mostly I basked in the afterglow of what we’d just done.

Holy shit. It had really happened.

We did not get private time again before she was back to her home. We saw each other a few more times, hugged, said our goodbyes on her last day. Again, I had a hard time looking her parents in the face knowing what I had done. I also researched as much as I could about whether or not there was a way to know if my kid was inside of her…as that was obviously not going to be okay. Sadly the internet did not have an easy solution for that one, so I knew I just had to wait it out.

Time passed.

We kept talking.

I brought up the sex every now and then, and she seemed mostly perturbed by how painful it had been, and that an orgasm had eluded her. She did not seem to be pregnant, though I did not push the issue of her period as that seemed weird.

But I did mention missing her body, her perfect breasts, the feeling of her arms around me or hands on my chest… Every now and then mentioning the hotel room, what we had done.


It was hard, and by it I mean my penis every time we spoke. Cybering with her was not going to happen, but there was plenty of simultaneous chat/fap that she was unaware of. I think.

I had the chance to go back down there to do the same internship as the summer previous, and while it’d be notably shorter due to prepping for FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE, I obviously did everything to ensure it’d happen.



Last time, Lily and I finally consummated our relationship in a hotel room. There was a very, very long sex scene that most anons seemed to disappoint at. Then Lily was back to her country of residence and I was back to my basement to try and not have an aneurysm each time I remembered the feel of being inside her. Which is the best feel, let me tell you.

It was January, I finished high school in May, and then I had a couple months to try and make something happen before college began. Full cylinders on “DO IT, ANON” were initiated, and I buckled down to…do what needed to be done.

Which was, of course, getting the same internship as I had before. Puke.

>how obsessive people on /b/ can get This is why that UTC drama happened, I picked a random time zone to try and anonymize myself. Apparently I was successful yayyy.

Thanks for the compliments but we all know Taylor Swift is the greatest writer on /b/. _____

You all know my father runs an import company. He rakes in the dough and never paid attention to his son, so it was approximately everything he wanted out of life. I was chill with it too. But having to go and work there again was a somewhat unpleasant thought, as it’d be basically confirming for him that I wanted to take over his company. While my lust/love for Lily was large and overwhelming, it wasn’t quite to the point where it outweighed all considerations for my future. Kidding - it totally outweighed that. So when I brought up working between the two offices with my dad he flipped his lid, overjoyed that his son was in fact going to make something of himself. He agreed and we wrote up a basic description of my responsibilities.Â

OH NO - there were so many. How was I going to sneak into Lily’s bedroom with all these things to do? And the timing - just a couple months of work before I had to get back and get my ass into freshman orientation. It felt rushed and it was only February. I told Lily what I was planning and she was all for it, but I kept most those worries to myself.

As mentioned at the end of part two, we kept talking and I tried not to focus purely on sex. I did okay at it but the idea of being able to have sex a second time - maybe even a third or a fourth! - was weighing pretty heavily on my mind. We may all pretend like dying a virgin doesn’t bother us, when I was 15 I had decided that was the deal, but you have no idea what you’re missing. I do not know how married people ever get out of bed (oh wait, because they are old, boring, and gross).

The torrent of hormones aside, I talked to Lily more about her own life. Being a half-Asian kid in a country full of people of yet another race was not an easy thing. I am not going to go full-tumblr on you and talk about white privilege and the guilt I felt about our conversations, but when she talked about the confusion of speaking Spanish with her friends, English with her father, and [censored] with her mother…it got to me. First, it reminded me that this girl was a genius and I was a shlub, second it made me feel like…I don’t know, maybe I could be some sort of stability for her. So I tried to be that stability,

Trying to be stability from thousands of miles away…well it was sort of stupid, but it meant being online at certain times. And after a while I decided to take a risky step forward and proposed that we could talk on the phone, as she had friends back in our city and maybe she could get some sort of a…budget from her parents. Lily agreed to ask and within days we were speaking on the phone, beginning a tradition of weekly phone calls (tradition #2 for those keeping track). hearing her voice…well, it was a lot better than just reading it on the screen. She coached me further in my Spanish, which is el shit to this day as I keep saying, and I reminded her that I loved her, that she was beautiful — one particular time, from April or thereabouts, made me want to fly down and swoop her away. While racism isn’t so prevalent down there as up here, there were still some kids who did not like this Asian girl among them and were calling her bad names in Spanish, then mocking her replies when they weren’t fluent.

I hope you are as furious reading that as I was when I heard it. Absolute bullshit - those little shits were nowhere near as smart as Lily, nowhere near, and no one would love them the way I loved her - and, and… I swallowed that down, but did tell her I would come down and beat them up. She just had to say the word.

Her laugh wasn’t very genuine, but she seemed to at least appreciate the thought. “I can handle them…”

But I didn’t want her to handle them - I wanted to. And it was so stupid, like I would fly to her middle school and beat up some kids as I prepped to go to college. But that was what I wanted.

In analyzing my attraction to her, I started to wonder if perhaps I was just older physically than I was mentally? I felt like she was my peer, my equal - in many ways more mature than I was.

It felt like I belonged in middle school alongside her, and if either of us belonged in college it was her. But that was dumb and I did not say it to her - no reason to tear myself down in her eyes…she liked who I was. A fact I had to remind myself of every time those doubts flew into my mind (they were constant).

Days dragged by and I was finally just a week away from her. I asked her if she was excited to see me, she said of course she was. I did a little dance of glee. I thought about having her in my arms, kissing her again, perhaps finding time for further… Only a few months without Lily felt like an age, and having her back was going to be the best reunion yet, I just knew it.

And it was. They did not meet me at the airport this time around, perhaps Lily’s father was able to see the future better than I and didn’t want to welcome his eventual replacement into his arms. I very much wanted her arms around me, and mine around her, the moment I touched down in the country…but I figured another day was acceptable.

But it was difficult. Work was very busy, and her father wasn’t treating me like a kid any more - no constant dinner invites or anything like that. Maybe having two girls of ‘that age’ had him standoffish, maybe he suspected something, maybe he just didn’t like me any more…either way, I started to get desperate.

This time I was staying in a hotel for the entirety of the internship, a nice place that cost approximately $1/night due to poor country, and accidentally stumbling over to Lily’s wasn’t at all realistic.

Fuck fuck fuck what was I going to do? We talked online every now and then, her summer schedule had her out and about in the evening, doing some volunteering work or out with friends, no school in the morning keeping her in and thus talking to me.

Fortunately my dumb mind didn’t have to think alone, I had her working on the other side trying to come up with ways to see me. She knew I was staying out and ‘on my own’, and thus just getting to my place was all she really needed to do. We were much freer here than in the US, as her Spanish abilities were the best in the family (besides her sister, who as mentioned before was probably off having sex with Pablo Escobar). Checking up on her was difficult for her parents, and she was an excellent child who they didn’t really feel the need to check up on anyway. Good thing her leering boyfriend knew all this and was willing to take advantage of it.

Well, we both took advantage of it. I don’t want to be TOO cruel to her parents. They are great people and did their very best with their daughters, they couldn’t help that one turned into a slut and the other one turned into Lolita.

Before we get to Lily and I figuring things out let’s take a quick detour down a path that hopefully you will identify with that left your OP really ashamed of himself. We all know we’ve done fucking stupid things in the name of love, or in the name of having a really good orgasm. Well. My boss, Lily’s father, had family pictures in his office. And god help me if I didn’t steal one of them at one point. It was a year old, Lily looked even younger as if that was possible. But it was her. We never sent pictures via the computer as I was scared of this causing us to be found out (how does AOL work I still don’t know), so this was one of the few I had of her.

Anyway I don’t think I need to tell you what I did with the picture but oh god why did I even decide to write this bit I am so ashamed of myself.

Let’s get back on track and away from that because my face is as red as moot’s ass after he holds an “all-mod meeting”.

Inventing a fake friend was way easier for Lily than I would have thought - hopefully it wasn’t a regular thing? - but she informed me that I was now…we’ll say Juanita. Like most people I have always dreamed of being a fiery Latina woman, or girl, so this was fine by me.

Our first meetup was going to be a brief evening encounter in town. The idea of other people seeing us, two obvious foreigners, didn’t really occur to us until we were in person and it was too late. But at that point I did not care one iota, as seeing Lily… Seeing her in person, running to her and grabbing her and hugging her… That was all that mattered.

As we pulled away from the hug I did a quick once-over…her breasts were definitely larger, or maybe I had imagined them smaller, or maybe seeing them without a bra had made me more aware of their true size, or- Even though I am a lecherous creep I decided staring at Lily’s boobs for more than a few seconds was not acceptable and moved up to her face.

"I have something to tell you."

Lily said this with a happy lilt in her voice, nothing that indicated to me that I should be worried. Of course I got worried anyway.

My eyes trailed back to her breasts and then down a bit further, to her stomach, which seemed slightly larger than before as well, perhaps my girl was growing up?

"I’m pregnant."

Just kidding.

She actually told me that she missed me more than she thought was possible. I hugged her again, and then peeked around to make sure the local gestapo did not have their eyes on us, leaning down to plant a kiss on her. Yes - she was definitely taller, as I no longer had to fold myself in half to kiss her. Lily was growing up… and I was happy about it, fortunately that little jolt of happiness helped me confirm I was not a pedo probably (a daily struggle in my mind at that point).

We held hands and walked towards a little cafe, sitting together at a table, drinking coffee, looking at one another…drinking each other in. Simply staring at another person had never seemed at all appealing to me, but now it suddenly was. I tried to memorize every bit of her, from her wide, but distinctly Asian eyes to her small, pugged nose to her soft, large lips… Fuck. She was so gorgeous. I did the crossed-legs move to hide my god-tier erection.

Unfortunately dragging her into some bushes and having my way with her was not an option, so I settled for reaching my foot out towards her leg and running it up and down. Such a stupid, romantic comedy move…but.. After a while I stopped, while we chatted about her day, about how we’d make future meetings happen, about how her family was, etc. When my foot went back to its place by my chair, she reached her own out, slipping off her sandal and placing her bare foot on my calf. I almost lost it in that moment, her dainty, small toes against my…well, scrawny, hairy leg. Phew. It felt very nice. It reminded me of what she felt like moving beneath me. It reminded me of how much I cared about her. It reminded me that I wasn’t just obsessed with her, this wasn’t a stupid one-way romance…she liked me too.

It was becoming less unthinkable but no less of a happy surprise. She liked me. Wow.

Her foot fell off my leg after a moment, and I almost let out a sad sigh. Others were probably looking, though I am unsure of the cultural attitude towards romances like ours…I saw men who looked older than me with girls who looked her age, so I hoped it was all alright. Or in hindsight I impute those emotions on myself, because in the moment I was too crazed to care about anyone or anything past the delightful, beautiful girl sitting across from me.

It ended all too soon.

I think that may have been our first real date. We kissed hello, got a drink, talked, flirted - and then when we got up to go, we kissed goodbye, me heading back to my nearby hotel, her taking a taxi (while I tried to tamp down images of her getting raped and murdered by a taxi driver).

She told me that her and Juanita had a wonderful time together and her parents were very approving of her making a ‘local’ friend, as opposed to her mostly-expat group of friends. I continued to pretend to work hard while daydreaming about her.

The next part is obvious, and you guys said you weren’t really into the sex so much, so I’m trying to figure out how to say it. Within a couple weeks Lily was coming to my hotel room. First we just kissed - that first evening we kissed, cuddled, and watched some television (while really watching each other). I didn’t want to force the sex on her immediately, I was terrified of her thinking I saw her as my sex doll, or her seeing herself as such. But my erection pressed into her while we cuddled, and I know she noticed. I hungrily lapped at her mouth, her tongue, tasting that mild sweetness, that flavour that was all Lily, that no other girl could ever replicate.

My hands on her sides still felt so huge, like Mickey Mouse-sized as they practically wrapped around her.

Our favorite position was the one we had started with. I’d sit on a chair while she straddled my lap, pressing hard against me while my erection waved the white flag. She’d put her arms on my shoulders, sometimes clasping her hands together or holding my head. I had my hands on her sides, sliding down to her hips to hold her close. Our mouths stayed together as long as we could, each time we pulled away we’d just look into one another’s eyes - and we’d always smile. Or she always smiled, I may have had a stupid glazed look a few times.

An hour of making out with Lily was better than I’d remembered. When she left I wanted to cry (after I jacked off a thousand times).

As I was saying, we did not meet up every night. It wasn’t feasible, but she definitely pushed how much her parents were willing to like Juanita.

It was the second time that I knew we were going to have sex again. I managed to not masturbate for a full day, though I should have called a doctor as my erection lasted for over fifteen hours as I looked forward to the evening.

She was coming over again for just a couple hours. The pregnancy joke above may have been hilarious, but I was actually kind of scared with what I knew, and thus condoms were present this time around.

Again - I am going to give you the softcore version as the hardcore version caused some people to disappoint.

We kissed at the door, on the bed, and our clothes came off. Her breasts were the same size, to my slight disappointment.Â

One detail that the lighthearted can skip over: She’d shaved herself. I had no idea if this was because she thought I’d like it or what, but it scared me a little, made me think maybe she thought I was a complete pedo. But when a girl you love is standing before you completely naked…well…she looks good pretty much no matter what. I told her as much.

I put on a condom and this time around she wanted to be on top, mirroring our kissing position. She held me against herself, pressed her hips downwards, and began that same rocking motion that I had been in control of last time, though she seemed far less frantic than I to cram my penis inside of her. Maybe this was my big chance to figure out how to make a girl orgasm. I did not take advantage of the opportunity however. I held her hips in my hands but continued to let her take her time, working me in slightly further - that exact same feeling as before, the ring popping down around me, this time no further pressure inside as she slid downwards.

Okay oops I said I was going to be less hardcore. So, uh, let me try and sum up the scene.

She maybe managed to rock against me for a solid fifteen seconds before I blew. A disappointment to all of you, I know, but hey I had been waiting a whole day. Ahem. She kept going despite this, likely choosing to ignore my cross-eyed slack-jawed expression. After a while it wasn’t happening, while she was tight enough to hold me inside I was not hard enough to really provide anything for her to rub against. She pulled herself off and sat on my lap, a hand on my chest, and we lay for a moment before we began kissing again. This time was MUCH better, far less uncomfortable, no pain for her (presumably?), and…well…it was just better.

So that was how we decided to have sex from then on, decided the next time she came over. I picked her up and put her on the bed, making my intentions clear, and she giggled, agreeing to do it as long as she could be on top again.Â

A dom loli willing to fuck me? YES PLEASE.

That was our schedule from that point forward. She’d come over once a week, sometimes twice, and we’d immediately tear into one another until I came, and then we’d cuddle and sometimes watch a movie or order room service or generally be two young people in love, one of whom had a company credit card (I got in trouble later, don’t worry).

This was the ‘golden age’ as far as our relationship went. I had no idea how it could get better than regularly having sex with someone who loved me… And while the sex was incredible, I had nothing to compare it to, so I wasn’t exactly holding up her tightness/size up against my dozens of other partners. She was just Lily.Â

And yeah - it was kind of annoying. Anons out there who are having/have had sex (you’re out there don’t be shy) will understand this one. I do not have a huge penis (GASP SHOCK) but even an average-sized guy is going to have a rough time trying to have sex with a girl of that age/immaturity. She was small, and always taking it slow was sort of a pain. I never got more than 2/3 inside of her before ‘bottoming out’. At the time this was not an issue but looking back… Eh, I guess it came with the underage territory? Thus ends your Logistics of Lolita lecture, thanks for reading.

While we could just go with a montage of me pumping a gallon of sperm inside of Lily, I will go to one particular incident. She finally got her parents to allow her to have an overnight with Juanita (without them calling Juanita’s parents, which had me ‘wtf’ like crazy). This meant an overnight with me, and I swore I was going to ensure Lily had an orgasm that night. We had enough time to figure it out. It could not be that complicated. It couldn’t be.

She had some stubble this time around, guess the shaving had either been forgotten or earlier had just been a coincidence. I could feel it when I put my hand between her legs, rubbing slightly while we kissed. She pulled away, surprised. I told her that what we’d been doing up until then hadn’t been too fair, though Lily (bless her) said she loved it just as much as I did. I said I wanted to try something new.

Not going to write 500 words on me fingering her. But that’s what happened. She lay down while I nestled up next to her, one hand around her head, the other between her legs

Anyway, yeah. Girls are very confusing down there and don’t let your older brother or porn or some know-it-all anon tell you otherwise. I tried to figure her out, but mostly made her grimace when I went anywhere besides her vagina. Mystery: still not solved. After a while I was turned on as hell, and she was as wet as I figured she could get. That was the second time we went without a condom and the second time she let me be on top of her - I basically removed my hand and rolled onto her, there was no stopping it. All that prep work did its job, though I still had to go slow she definitely seemed more…accommodating to my jerking, stabbing motions against her. As usual, I lasted about five seconds before letting go inside her initially, whipping out and leaving the rest on her stomach. Not that it mattered after one went in, but at least I tried? Really I am unsure how stupid faggot underage B& OP did not get that girl pregnant - I guess we were lucky. Or maybe I’m sterile.

It was an overnight, so we both knew there was a lot more. We showered together, just like the first time, me soaping up her back, her butt, her breasts, her doing the same to me (except I don’t have breasts I think).

We ate and drank (she asked if we could get wine, impressing me and probably herself) and watched a movie. Kissed more, lay together under the sheets, naked, arms around one another. We had sex again before we went to sleep, her on top, condom employed as it should have been initially. Then we actually got to fall asleep in one another’s arms.

I don’t know if you have the right amount of feels right now - it should be double the max amount you’ve ever had. I was in heaven. This was perfection.

From the beginning I said this was a two-month work stint, and this was pretty much the end of it. We woke up in the morning and she went back home. The two of us met up one more time in my hotel, had sex one more time, and then on my second to last day we went on another proper date, this time with my head on a swivel, terrified of my co-workers spotting us. Or of anyone spotting us. But…Lily in a dress, a dark red piece that showed off her legs, her neck, a matching headband holding that perfect hair back from her face…well it was hard to stay nervous or look at anyone else with that vision of beauty in front of me. We had a meal and went to a movie and kissed.

We both knew that was going to be it.

On the street corner we wrapped around one another, our bodies entwined in full public view, kissing again and again, finally with great reluctance letting one another go.

"I’ll see you next time. I promise."

But I was scared. I was going to college, she was turning 14, what would really happen to us in the coming year?

"Bye, Lily. I love you." "Bye, Anon. I’ll miss you so much."

This time I managed to hold the tears in check for the most part. But my heart still broke when I got on the plane.

I was attending college within the US but still very far from my home, sort of a ‘fuck you dad’ on top of desiring to go to an excellent business program. Yeah, I was seeing my future and giving in to the one that my family had set up for me.

First semester freshman year. If you have not started college yet, be aware that that will be the worst period of your life. Tons of new ‘friends’, tons of confusing girls, really just a shitshow in every way. I tried to find a way to fit in. All I could think about most days was opening the door of my room and seeing Lily standing there. The feeling of her lips on mine. Her arms around me. Her body melding against mine. Her back arching as she pushed downwards onto me. Her face when she looked at me with total love. Those soft breasts in my hands. Just…her. Her everything. Lily.

We still talked at night, but not every night. I felt myself drifting as I tried to get into the social scene at college - and she encouraged me to make friends, she didn’t want me to have a ‘robot’ be my only friend, as she referenced herself when we talked online (…hard to explain).

So I tried to make friends. I did make some. It was nice.

The guilt started to sneak in.

One of my friends had a sister Lily’s age. She looked so young and innocent. Her brother adored her and talked of her frequently, saying that some boy had liked her and he’d scared him off.

Others talked about getting laid with our peers, slutty sorority girls who were a pretty easy go. I looked at them and didn’t see what I wanted…at that point I only wanted one person.

But I was feeling guilty.

I had had sex, secretly, with a girl who was barely more than a child. I had been talking to her since she was a child, had kissed her when she was still a child, had perhaps forced my emotions on her… I started to wonder how much of this I had created, how much Lily really cared, how much she COULD care at her age. I was just someone she needed to remind her of home, and in order not to lose me she did what I had wanted. The image of her face when I took her virginity…the fact that she didn’t particularly care about pleasure past mine (or so it seemed)…the sneaking, the lying, the toll it must have took on her…

My guilt deepened and grew, a vast pit I could not escape from. It had been about three months since I’d seen her, solidly into the semester, and I was filled with regret. My daily shower masturbation (sorry guys who shared my shower) had slowed and then stopped, the fantasy of Lily bouncing on my lap suddenly losing its eroticness and taking on a sheen of…something bad. Something wrong.

I had been a bad guy. I loved her, yeah, but who was I to say she even knew how to love? I had corrupted an innocent young girl. I was a fucking monster.

That was the final point I reached.

I was a monster.

I saw the news, I knew what happened to people like me. Sure, maybe our ages were kind of close, but not really. I was 18 and she was 13.

She talked about when we’d meet up next. Asked how I was in college. For the first time ever I felt myself closing up, not wanting to tell her everything. I was a shameful monster and someone as perfect as her should not be talking to someone like that.

I faded. Our communications began to slow. She started to seem frantic, just as I predicted, because I had -made- her feel those things for me. Lily started communicating with me constantly, scrabbling to find out what was wrong, meeting an emotional wall every time.

Before she turned 14, just before the semester ended, I told her it was over. She was devastated. So was I. Though that’s selfish - I cannot imagine how she felt, with me taking her everything and then finishing with her.

I told her what I thought - that I was not a good guy for what I’d done with her, that it was a mistake, that I loved her but it wasn’t right and wouldn’t be right. She said she loved me, she didn’t care, it wasn’t wrong… But my mind had been made up long before I had the conversation with her.

We broke up.

My heart was shattered. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. I saw the school therapist, for what little good that did, as I could not bring myself to confess what I’d done.

I had crossed so many lines.

Lily and I ceased communicating altogether. I felt so goddamn alone, only my college “buddies” to keep me company.

Time passed. My heart didn’t heal, but I learned to ignore it. Learned to ignore the ache when my father spoke of his company, of the branch office, in my mind Lily and the branch office being practically the same thing.

More time passed.

Freshman year ended.

Sophomore year ended.

I fucked a couple other girls when I was drunk. I was done after the second one, realizing no sex was like the sex I had had with Lily. Everything that reminded me of her - Spanish, Asian people, even hotels…I tried to stay away from them.

I’d fucked up her life permanently and it was only fair that mine was fucked as well.


I had started junior year of college before this story becomes of any interest to you again. Lily and I had not spoken in a year and a half, but I still thought of her. Maybe not every day, maybe not every moment, but certainly more than enough to keep her in my heart. But time was passing, I was trying to move on… Ugh. I was in a bad place and I knew that if anyone ever found out about me having sex with underage b&, that would be the end of my life.

So I had to keep it quiet and secret. I had to keep the sadness inside. Some of my friends noticed that I wasn’t so into girls, and after deciding I wasn’t gay enough to be gay they asked me what was up - I told them I had a very serious girlfriend before college that I was still hung up on. This happened second semester sophomore year, and the fact that that was my reply…well that said more than enough for me. I WAS still hung up on her no matter how hard I tried to forget. I mean, fuck, a year and a half? That should have been long enough to forget anyone.Â

But I couldn’t forget her.

And not just her body beneath mine, her lips on my lips, but everything about Lily. Her voice, so sweet and kind. Her personality, always able to complement my jokes with her own. Her pop culture interests, perhaps slightly molded by me, but able to talk about Solid Snake like a champion (okay, kind of, even I don’t fully get the MGS story).

So, second semester sophomore year I realized I still liked her and couldn’t get over her.

First semester junior year was when I began very, very, very tentative approaches.

Mostly that meant re-adding her AOL name. Strangely she did not use it any more, maybe because she realized we weren’t living in 1994 any more. Just adding that took most my emotional strength and I was kind of glad when her username never went to green. It had been so long…she had to hate me, and she DEFINITELY had a boyfriend. There was no way she wouldn’t. I was probably a footnote, a forgotten mistake in her past.

But I had to try. I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life wondering what might have been (a sad hat tip to the many anons reading who have said they wish they could undo that mistake). I had to give it another shot and see.

She was 15 now, turning 16 in a few months. That was pretty old, definitely far closer to acceptable. One of my college friends was dating a senior in high school, so dating a sophomore… No, still pretty fucked up. But closer.

This was all for nothing though, despite me staying up late at night to think about it. I knew she’d just reject me, be the same horrible person to me that I had been to her. And that would be fair.

I wouldn’t have to wonder. That was what was most important.

All the girls around me were nothing like Lily. I couldn’t see anything in them that she had, not the spark, not the —

I went down that same path so many times in my head. I loved her, I did. I did I did I did.

I started to look at why I had broken up with her. The guilt, the shame, the worry that I had ruined her… Getting back in touch with her would at least confirm that last part - had I ruined her life? I hoped not. Thinking about her becoming a slut who… No, that was one path even my imagination couldn’t go down. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Right?

Oh god. The image was in my head now, though. Maybe I had turned into someone who needed men to give her value? Or some sort of crazed nymphomaniac? (Okay, sex with me wasn’t THAT good, it was my first few times, but I wondered all the same) (sex with me now is awesome, as all you anons know)

Terrifying. All the possibilities were terrifying.

Ironically, it didn’t matter, as I had no way of contacting her. I just had an AOL name and a phone number. Calling the phone was out of the question, the international charge and trying to explain why I was calling would be very difficult.

But a month passed without her signing onto AOL. I decided, only a month later than I should have, that she didn’t use it any more. So I had to go with the phone number. I had to talk to her – while my constant worry and doubt was beginning to fade away I was left with the overwhelming desire to talk to her just one – more – time.

Coming up with an excuse wasn’t the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. I was being groomed to take her dad’s job and calling him to check in would be just the condescending thing he’d expect from me. A personal check-in, ensuring all in his life was fine, maybe asking some things about living in the country they lived in. Perfect! He could deal with the international charges, I barely even understood how those things worked anyway.

It was decided. I waited until an evening when my roommate was away fucking his girlfriend (or boyfriend? That guy was faggy as hell), a few hours past my bedtime in order to call them at a decent hour.

I dialed. When the phone started ringing I almost shat myself (for the fiftieth time in this story, I think). I was so close. And what was the plan to even talk to Lily? Fuck I had not thought this through very well.

[okay, dump finished. now writing part 2, please hold.] OP here, this or dump? plz advise, my keyboard is on fire.

[dumping over, back to the way I usually post, I live to serve]

Sorry for all the swearing, this part of the story makes me nervous. I can practically feel my palms sweating like they did that day – they were like fountains that I am fairly certain her dad could hear over the phone.

Yes, he picked up, and we talked for a little while. I went with the cultural approach, asking him how he dealt with living down there long-term, etc. It was an okay conversation, he likes me enough and was hoping to keep me away from his job long enough to retire, which was fine since I am not Gordon Gekko.Â

I asked how his family was at an appropriate time – he talked about his oldest, attending university in that country, apparently with an extremely serious boyfriend he liked, but who could barely speak English which made him nervous (lol). Then I pushed slightly further and he gave me a tidbit on Lily –

She was in school and happy. Yup, that’s all I got. I couldn’t think of a not-strange way to get him to say more so I dropped it and the conversation ended shortly thereafter. It was scary, when I asked about her by name he seemed to close off slightly, which I read into for the next week.

Did he know something? Had she said something? Were there suspicions? How could they have lasted over the last 20 months?! Or was I just being insane? I tried to settle on that last option but kept gravitating towards another – that she had said something about me.

That I was a bad guy. Creepy. Rape-y, even. What might she have said in order to get back at me? What would make her dad not like me?

I obsessed. That’s what I’m best at.

After the period of obsession was over I realized I was back at square one. I’d called them and heard basically nothing about Lily, and still had had no contact with her.


That was the banner in my head at all times, what every post on /b/ seemed to be telling me. (maybe I was the faggy roommate, I did browse /b/ right in front of him)

But how? Flying to her country and saying hey was likely the worst idea, but so was calling her house every day in hopes of her picking up the phone. The one conversation with her dad had ended pretty…let’s say firmly, in that I couldn’t come up with an easy reason to call him back immediately if at all.

I settled on pathetic brooding. There was no way to talk to her, I’d cut off ties and trying to reinstate them was too hard. There was no method I could make work. It was…over. It really was.

I guess saying the obsessive period was over is a lie, I just entered a new period of obsession. An easy way to get in touch with her was not presenting itself, so I settled on the hard way. This, of course, meant stalking her online.

moot help me, this is a part of the story no one except me knows, and now you guys, so let’s keep it quiet. I googled her and found her profiles, using the same AOL username she’d once had, and browsed them, trying not to look at/get turned on by her pictures for too long. And yes, these profiles still exist if you feel like becoming a pro-level stalker. They weren’t too locked down, but were primarily in Spanish, so I fired up Google translate to get some pretty meaningless tidbits from her life.

But it felt like I was close to her.

>confirmed as basement loser faggot, sorry guys

I tried going back in time to when we broke up, but her profiles were blank back then. Sadly. I guess I wanted to see if she was sad, which was selfish and dumb.

There were never pictures. Until there were.

She was almost 16 now. And my god, /b/. My god. >correction Shoulda been more clear there, messed up the timeline, she posted a glut of pictures all at once from a dance.

Lily was so beautiful. Sweet christ on the cross, moot on his bidet, Snacks on his pizza. She was beautiful.

Remember the dress she was wearing way back when? The black one? It was presumably not the same one, but she was wearing another black dress with a wide scooped neck that showed off her collarbone, the hint of cleavage now present where it hadn’t been before, though nothing like the mammoth bazooms on her friends (which…I did like, hers I mean, I guess she did turn me full pedo). Her smile was genuine, eyes sparkling, hair done up in an incredibly complicated sort of…braid curled topknot thing. How to describe it? Obviously I can’t. I have that picture still, I saved it and have kept it through multiple computers. Hopefully the Dropbox employees reading this won’t immediately ID me but if they do oh well this was fun. Her dimples were less pronounced now, cheeks still equally round and full… Teeth perfectly straight and white, I am unsure if it was just the picture or just my obsession or what but they looked even better… Her arms were slim and dainty, ending in a hand holding up the ubiquitous Asian peace sign that her friends were also imitating. She still wasn’t very tall, almost the shortest among those in the shot…

It made my heart break a thousand times over. She looked older, sure, though not by ages. It just made me regret not having been there for her in the past year, wondering what she’d experienced, who her friends were now, what she did…

My heart felt like it was going to explode. Just from one picture.

I wonder if she knew I was looking? I wondered what she would think if she knew I was looking? We’ve all looked at a picture like that. The one girl we are in love with who probably doesn’t know it. Looking perfectly content in a scene without us there.

We’ve all thought about what she was thinking in that moment.

We’ve all done things we’re ashamed of while looking at said picture. Uh, at least some of us have.

Did her friends know she had given her virginity to some old guy when she was 13? Did she, really truly, think I was just some guy who had waltzed into her life, fucked her, and waltzed out?

I could write another thousand words about all the questions I had when I saw the picture. I’ll spare you, but realize that you should feel like you may burst into tears at any given moment. You may continue once you are there.

SO I did the logical thing. Registered an account, used my avatar from years previous, and added her. She surely knew it was me. She had to.

"[Lily] accepted your request" popped onto my feed. No, not Facebook, a much faggier south american version.

So I went to her profile.

>put on your spanish caps!

>OP to Lily >te echo de menes (i miss you)

Her response was in English. “Who is this?” The fact that she used English, in my mind, gave away that she knew exactly who I was. My profile was empty, she was my only friend… Really if she knew internet safety at all she shouldn’t have added me but fortunately OP’s improbable streak of luck continued that day or likely this story would end with my suicide. >implying it won’t

I said “it’s me”, because pretending to be in a romantic comedy is always a good idea and not annoying as shit for the girl.

"OP?" "Yeah"

We moved to a private chat immediately, that little exchange left up on her profile.

My heart was thumping. We were talking again, like we had literally thousands of times on so many other evenings. Me and Lily, communicating through the glow of a computer screen - the second best thing in the world to having her in my room with me.

There may have been a tear welling up but I’d never admit it. And, amazingly, I was not popping nine thousand boners but rather holding onto the largest emotional erection I’d ever had… For once it was not physical at all, it was all mental, all about her, all about feeling love again after so long.

Oh god anon hold on time to cry a little

I wish I could make you feel more of what I felt. Multiply your feels by a thousand. Imagine what it would be like if you were reading part four of this story 20 months after part three. Just imagine. A horrible 20 months, but such a glorious reunion, such an incredible…

Right, the conversation.

"Why are you talking to me again?" She didn’t ask why I had stalked her, which I had obviously done. Far more direct than that. "I said it - I miss you." "oh, haha, i didn’t understand your spanish ;)"

For the record, I had that log saved for a long time before deleting it in a fit of paranoia, so this is based on best recollection. Wish I could copypasta the entirety but oh well, direct evidence of my affair with underage b& was a scary thing to hold onto.

The joke made me relax a little. Maybe things could be alright? We could just slip right back to where we were? >naive OP is naive, let’s all laugh at him

It wasn’t going to be nearly that simple. However having her talking to me, really talking, I would give anything for that feeling again. Incredible. I felt loved, I felt special, I felt vulnerable and strong simultaneously. It was wild. Like the first time we admitted we liked one another but far more intense.

I still loved her. That much was clear.

So, love. What to do with love for someone whose heart you broke? I did not have the excuse of saying it was her choice or mutual or anything like that. I had broke her heart and left her, and now I was back to, for all she knew, do it again.

She brought this point up as soon as the pleasantries were over. I had done it, it was my choice, how dare I come back like this.

I apologized a hundred times. A million times. Words weren’t enough to tell her how sorry I was for what I’d done. I told her how horrible I felt, how guilty I was about what we’d done, how I was scared I’d ruined her life. I….I didn’t know how to tell her.

"How could you ruin my life? I wanted you, I wanted us."

I did start to cry, I’ll admit. Nothing like emotional, crying online chats, right?

"If I hadn’t wanted it I would have said so, OP."

Short break to say - this does not mean you should have sex with every loli you see because she is aching for it, but apparently that was the case here.

I had to press a little further. I did so.

"But…the stuff we did. I loved you, but I shouldn’t have done that."



She had a point. It does take two to do what we did.

>get ready to bump your feels to fucking eleven

She launched into probably the most beautiful speech I’ve ever seen. I am choked up remembering it - this was likely the most emotionally powerful moment of my life. It was…unexpected. Heart-wrenching. I’ll try and write as much as I can remember here, my apologies for errors in my recalling.


"I loved you too. Did you not know that? I wanted to do everything we did. Everything. OP, do you know how long I loved you? We used to live in the same city, do you remember? I was a little girl and you were you. I remember going to your house while my sister tried to be your friend, I was always so bored, trying to tag along with the two of you. I was 10, OP. That was the first time I liked you. A couple months later I got you to talk to me on the computer, even though I knew it was mean to trick you. I just liked you and wanted you to like me, so I pretended to be my sister."

I interjected something dumb around here, something about this being impossible. Because it was/is.

"Why do you think I talked to you back then? Because I wanted someone to teach me how to use a Gameboy? I kept waiting to get boobs or whatever, to be like my sister, to force you to like me. Then you found out, we moved, everything got ruined."

>pause to wipe away the feels, my windshield is all cloudy

"You liked me anyway. When you finally said it, oh my god, it felt like the best day of my life. You really liked me! It felt like I had been waiting my whole life and you finally did."

I had no idea this was coming, maybe you anons are smarter than I was. I was speechless for the first time ever (maybe the second, if you look back on the story).

"And then…and then…"

The stream of words slowed and stopped. She had left out “it”, the things we shared… I wondered what that meant. I wondered if I should believe any of it. Of course, I believed every word. Things felt explained, it made a little more sense… And I loved her more than ever in that moment.

"I was scared you didn’t really love me."

Maybe minutes of silence passed. I don’t know.

"When?" "When you broke up with me. We did IT…it was my first time. And then you were gone."

Suddenly the viewpoint from her end was made clear.

She had loved me. I had loved her back. She had waited years, actual years, and finally worked up the nerve to make a move. I had reciprocated and her world was perfect. We did the things people in love do — and then suddenly, abruptly, I ended it.

She had been left wondering for almost two years. Wondering why, what she’d done wrong, what I’d found out…

I felt guilty about doing something she had accepted and desired. Fuck the law, fuck morals, fuck the people paying attention… I finally managed to shake off the mantle of guilt.

Lily was all that mattered. The only thing.

We talked for hours that night. I said I was sorry a hundred times. I told her how scared I was about how I felt about her, how I was worried about it being wrong, being disgusting, being something I should be ashamed of. She didn’t feel the same way - she only felt like she loved me, laws be damned. She didn’t see why they were a big deal. I wish I could have held onto that kind of naivete, or maybe be the girl in the situation so I wouldn’t have to worry about my ass in jail.

I kept apologizing. I didn’t dare ask her what she thought of me now. I didn’t try and repair things back to where they were. I said I missed her so much, I wanted to see her, and I was sorry.Â

She accepted all of it. She said she hoped to see me sometime. She said we could keep talking.

And thus began the second phase of our friendship. Long distance again, constant talking. For the first month I did not bring up our relationship again, still scared that she’d turn me away, worried that she…didn’t like me any more.

I could still love her from afar. Marvel at our conversations, the way her mind worked, her sunny disposition still unchanged despite the shit I put her through.

Of course this could only last for so long before I begged to go back to where we were, because I am but a man.

"Are we…can we go back to the way we were?"

"I waited for you to like me for two years."


"From when I liked you until you kissed me."


"Now you get to wait a little."

Cue an angry happy sad smile on my face. Lilllyyyyy!

Like any non-insane person would, I started planning ways to get down to her home. Working at the branch office was an easy setup, it took a single phone call and a position was set up for me for the winter break, which was a bit over a month (retard college). Lily and I kept talking, with me not daring to bring up the relationship thing again for fear of being told the wait period had been increased due to my impatience. How long was I going to have to not tell her I loved her? Or hear her say she loved me? It was confusing and exhilarating at the same time. I don’t like when bitches be playin games, but this was a game I could appreciate, as it came from someone I loved.Â

Weird how such things work, it is a good way to confirm whether your feelings for someone are real, that’s for sure.

Finals came around, I flew home, took all my parents’ money and flew to south america. Oh that plane ride - I wondered if the same flight attendants as before were serving me, I wondered if they knew my “my heart is broken” face from my “I just got laid” face from my “I may be making a huge mistake but it is worth it” face.

It was a secret from Lily, her father didn’t tell her (unless he did and she just kept quiet). I was in a hotel again, not the same one as the Summer of Sex, a bit nicer due to me being a prissy bitch.

I worked, I filled out reports and yelled at staffers and in general was the daddy’s boy that every workplace hates. Sorry guys your OP is really not a good guy except when he is (never).

Once I was there we were left with the same bit of difficulty, however. Actually seeing one another. She didn’t know and couldn’t plan on her end. So obviously I asked to have dinner at their home. Her dad agreed, seemingly with slight irritation, though I may have put that emotion on him since I was and am really, really scared of him. In the taxi on the way to their house I tried to calm myself, keep my hands from shaking, keep my pits from sweating through my shirt, etc. If only /fit/ had helped me prepare maybe I wouldn’t have been such a mess who knows.

We arrived and I walked to the front door.

We hadn’t seen each other in person since that summer. She was 16, newly turned, and probably had a whole bunch of life experience I knew nothing about despite our talks (which had paused during my break, with me explaining that time off college meant I was working my butt off to try and make those dolla dolla bills, perhaps to fly to a certain country in the summertime. Clever OP!

None of that mattered as the door opened and her mother welcomed me in, giving me a drink (OP can drink alcohol now!) and ushering me to the living room. There Lily sat.

"Hey, Lil."

The look on her face. Priceless.

Obviously any sort of romantic running and throwing arms around one another was out of the question. But I could still drink her in with my eyes while trying to have a normal conversation. Here, let’s do it together —

She was wearing a white sweater and jeans. The sweater was tight and had sort of a turtleneck, covering most of her up to the chin. Her breasts were prominent, slightly larger than I remembered them being, larger than her mother’s but not Kate Upton-large either. Perfect breasts. Perfect for me, that is. She had more curves than the last time we met, accented by the tight outfit, the sweater scooping in at her sides and then widening where her jean-clad hips seemed to… How to use words to say it? I wanted to put my hands on them and pull her to me, I wanted to feel how different she was, find out what wasn’t different… Her face was exactly the same, the same cherubic innocence, the dimples seeming to return, proving the photo I had been analyzing for months had lied to me, eyes wide, mouth in an ‘o’ when she saw me. No makeup at all, just her, the skin I’d caressed so many times as flawless as ever. I wanted to touch it too, just her cheek, rub my hand against it. The surprised ‘o’ her lips formed wasn’t changing, I ached to kiss it, to whisper in her ear how much I loved her. Her hair was down, a rarity, flowing to her shoulders, pulled back from her forehead but falling forward slightly on the left side, covering her ear. “OP!” she said happily, finally, crossing the room and giving me a swift, friendly hug before returning to her seat.

"You didn’t know he was here?" Her mother asked, seeming incredulous. I read into this too far as well, of course.

"I had no idea! It’s so good to see you!" Lily asked about my parents, our home, either trying to come across as casual or suddenly interested in the most dull parts of my life.

We sat for dinner and spoke about college, Lily’s older sister not present and her parents interested in opportunities for Lily to study abroad which I waxed eloquent on as if I had any idea what I was talking about. She wouldn’t be starting college until I had graduated, so I mentioned my own alma mater but didn’t push it as what was the point of her going there without me there. Which is as dumb as it sounds.

After eating Lily went to her room and I was left to talk with her father. I wanted to pass out from boredom but kept up talk on the business, his position, etc. Business stuff that none of you care about.

When it was time for me to go I did get a little desperate and asked to say bye to Lily. A stupid request from a 21 year old for a 16 year old but I still asked. Her dad gave me a strange look that seared me to the core. He said he’d say bye for me and we’d likely see one another again before I left. This lifted my spirits very slightly but not much.

She wasn’t online when I went back to my hotel. I jacked off like a manic 12-year-old discovering it for the first time and fell asleep, kind of sad, kind of hopeful. (for those trying to sleep, we are winding down, only a couple more bits left to cover, unfortunately my time is also running short so we’re not going to get to make it across the amount I had planned…goddammit, I wrote far more about what was meant to be a couple small things than I meant to…but hopefully this filled your ‘detail’ quota..) "We’re not going to meet up." That was one of the first things she told me during our chat after she found out I was in the country. This made me grumpy for the rest of the day, predictably, but I tried to keep it together while speaking with her. I settled for whining — "why nottttt?"

"I can’t, my parents aren’t letting me go out as much."

It made sense, they knew they had a hot sixteen-year-old on their hands and I am fairly certain her sister was getting into trouble under their lax parenting when she was sixteen. Better to protect Lily than have her get ruined by some guy — oh wait.

This disappointed me. I guess I shouldn’t have flown down there thinking we’d be fucking in my hotel room within a week, but I did think that. Stupid. In reality we met for that dinner after I’d been there a week and a half, and I managed to get another dinner set up the night before I left. So I worked myself to the bone during my vacation in order to…see Lily twice. It would have made me annoyed, but I just hoped she could see that I cared. This had to prove it. Probably. But I did want to see her more, do more with her. Fuckshitdamnit.

The final dinner was far more subdued. Her parents were mostly silent, Lily and I just talked awkwardly in front of them. It is so hard to not discuss with one another like old friends, with all we knew about each other, we were just trying to hide it for whatever reason.

I went back to college. What a fucking letdown. I felt as bummed out as you do right now - it would be nice for the story for us to secretly fuck in the park where it all started during our glorious reunion, but unfortunately the bounds of reality are constraining my tale-spinning. We had dinner twice. Awesome.

It was worth it I think. I enjoyed seeing her, hearing her voice in person, seeing her in her ‘natural environment’. And not having sex assuaged a tiny bit of guilt - I didn’t have to worry about her just being a sex doll to me, because despite my disappoint, I still loved her after that trip. If anything I loved her more, wanted her more.

The guilt was gone. I loved this girl, maybe our timing was fucked up but we were in love and she was the only thing that mattered to me. Nothing and no one else mattered.

I was firm in my resolve now. I would do anything to make this work - say whatever I had to, take whatever job I had to. It was for her and it was worth it.


Last time we left the OP was sitting on a plane (I believe) with his future all planned out. I was going to get Lily no matter what it took, come hell or high water or waiting a few years of sucking moot’s dick I’d do it all in order to have her. But being in college doesn’t leave one with much free time, so I knew that the physical relationship (both sexual and just talking face-to-face) wasn’t going to happen any time soon. We started to communicate via the social network again, expertly identified by anon in the previous thread, almost solely via chat and occasionally with little notes on each other’s profiles. As my profile was almost entirely empty with one friend, her, it didn’t look very normal. But whatever, I had better things to do than populate my fake profile with a bunch of Latina girls. So, yes, that was a thing I considered sometimes but not really.

I loved seeing her online, loved asking her about her day, telling her about my own.. She grew to love my stoner idiot fag roommate and the other characters on my hall, I learned to hate her female friends as they were all catty bitches who did not know they were attending school with a goddess. And her mentions of boys — ooh boy.

Maybe she just did it to annoy me but when she talked about being asked to dances or having boys ask her out or etc it made me see red every time. Suddenly she was not underage b& who was going to get ignored by everyone, but a decently hot and completely exotic item in her high school. It was logical for the boys to want her and to compete for her affection. And while I had age on them, I was not an athlete or a possessor of rugged Latino good looks. So each time she brought up a Diego or Juan or Bill (see what I did there?), I struggled with the forces that made me want to ask more and those that made me want to avoid the topic entirely. It was confusing.

Yet jealousy, at least, meant I liked her. Loved her perhaps. I was still trying to test my feelings, ensure they were that strong, and wait her out. After a couple months, of course, I was sick of waiting.

I told her as much - I didn’t want to wait any longer. I missed her and I was avoiding all other girls in favor of her and I wanted her terribly. She asked if she would be my real, actual girlfriend. I said yes. She asked if we could do things that normal couple things. I said yes. She asked if we could be open about it. I said….yeah, I said that was a possibility.

Lily didn’t like this. She was 16 and in her mind that was plenty old. She relayed a quick anecdote about a friend of hers who was fucking one of their teachers (wat) which was supposed to make me feel like our relationship was fine to go public with. This made 0 sense to me and I still wonder about it, as other than that Lily was a pretty smart girl.

"Some pervert hanging out with your friend isn’t the same as us, Lily. Our families, our ages… It is complicated, too complicated."

Lily did not like that at all.

So Lily ended the conversation about us getting back together. She was not content with my answers and I guess I failed the test and that was that. We went back to normal discussion - a week later I tried bringing up the same thing again and she told me she didn’t want to talk about it.Â

So now I saw two pretty clear pathways open to me. Be open about it or continue waiting. The latter option sounded like the worst thing to happen since Reagan’s presidency and the former sounded as impossible as tearing down the Berlin Wall.

So I chose neither, of course, and went back to talking.

That lasted for at most another month before I brought it up again. I was miserable, having her so close and yet so far. Our relationship was coming back, or rather our friendship, and I wanted it to be fully the way it had been. She was more mature now, more intelligent, more beautiful - all things that made me want her more.

"Lily, how can I get you back?"

I started a conversation with that so it wouldn’t be lost in the shuffle of our conversations, as my subtle hints often were.

"I don’t want it to be a secret."

Gulp. However it was time to think about it logically - we were countries away from one another, it wasn’t like we’d walk down the street hand-in-hand. I was not going to be able to see her that summer, due to college and me being a dumbass, but the next winter was a definite thing. So we’d be “open” via our conversations, really it’d just be me telling other people I had a girlfriend, which I was doing already, and her maybe telling people she had a boyfriend.

That didn’t sound so bad. It couldn’t possibly backfire, so I finally agreed.

"Okay. It doesn’t have to be a secret."

The emoticon-filled message I received from her was stupid and I should have thought it was stupid, but instead I just felt my heart expand with happiness. She’d been waiting and I finally came around and made it happen. Or gave in to her expert manipulation, I don’t know. Within moments we were in a relationship via social network, my empty profile suddenly getting a lot of friend requests.

Of course I did not accept any of them and just read the very confused comments on her page, laughing a little, mostly just confusing since they were in Spanish and I am not a smart man.

And thus began the third era of our relationship, by my count. Maybe the fourth or fifth or sixth or something if you decide to add in her one-way childish obsession or our initial friendship or others. But this ‘mystery boyfriend’ period was certainly better than the breakup period but nothing like the Summer of Sex (which I still had to convince myself wasn’t a months-long feverish dream).

Being the mystery boyfriend was kind of fun. Lots of messages from her friends asking me who I was, if I went to school with them, etc. This is probably where the average /b/tard would drown in a pile of his own jizz, but I did my best to not look at her friend’s profiles. (Joking, obviously I am solely into Asians — er, half-Asians) This is probably the period my Spanish improved the most other than during our little tutoring sessions when she was younger, though I never replied to any of them for fear of my white-ness being made obvious through whatever I said.

So that was a little diversion every day, logging on to the profile, deleting messages, waiting for Lily to log on to ask her how her day was. We weren’t saying “I love you” just yet, or even “I miss you”, just speaking slightly more warmly.Â

I reminded her that I still liked her, not that it really needed to be said, I guess I was just fishing for her to say she liked me too. She didn’t say it initially, which was annoying. I said I was very happy she was my girlfriend, but she still seemed slightly…reticent to fully commit to me again.

This was totally understandable, I didn’t even deserve a second chance, so I was going to put up with anything. I made her wait for more than a year while I sorted my shit out, and she had only made me wait a few months.

Patience is hard though. I wanted to hug her and kiss her and tell her how much she mattered to me.

Eagle-eyed readers, this is where the flowers come back in. I remembered sending them to her as her “secret admirer” or whatever, and I started this again. Every little holiday, before dances, sometimes just because… a bouquet of flowers delivered to her home. Always from anonymous, always clearly from me. I may have overdone it, but her parents probably thought a drug lord’s son was obsessed with her. Which would make sense because South America.

I did really like picking them out, different flowers, different colors, different things to put a smile on her face. In general being an OP-level faggot. I am sure people in class behind me noticed me constantly ordering flowers and I am beyond sure that it did not help my social standing at all. Not that I had a very good standing beforehand anyway.

She would sometimes put up a picture of her with the flowers on her profile. There would be dozens of comments, jealousy from her friends, reminders from other guys that they would do more than that for her… It felt good. I was doing something real for her to let her know how I felt.

Sometimes she’d say it was too much, I had to slow down, stop entirely, or spend less money — sometimes I listened, sometimes I didn’t. It was worth just imagining the smile on her face. The consternation on the faces around her didn’t matter.

Hopefully you have some happy feels right now. I don’t know if you’ve ever given a nice gift to the girl you love, and I know you all have one, but hopefully you have and know that feel. It is pretty incredible.

The gift-giving was awesome. The chats were awesome. And after a while the relationship was totally normalized in my mind. I was, then, 21 and she was 16. We weren’t the same age but the complete taboo had gone away. I was thinking of this as fine. When other people asked about my girlfriend I started to give more info, the country she lived in, even her name. They were impressed in general, thinking I was an international playboy cool guy batman, which of course I am. I do not know how much Lily told people. Early on she was telling them a lot - I remember when she asked if it was alright that her friends knew my name. We were talking on the phone, which we only did every few months, and I heard laughter in the background. Lily then hushed them quickly, saying “This is OP! Shhhh!” There was immediate silence and I felt a cold grip of fear, which is dumb but true. They knew my name - shit was getting real.

I asked what her friends knew about me, she said it was just her best friends, they knew I was a white guy from the states who was older.

>mount ohfuck.iso

My details I shared about her were fine, they were small and non-identifying, but her friends really knew about me. How long would it be before they knew WAY more? Too much more? Before they told on me?

I tried to reason with myself, it was fine, it was normal, we weren’t breaking any laws.

Of course instead of doing that I snapped at Lily, telling her she couldn’t just tell people about me.

"This wasn’t supposed to be a secret. Not this time."

The disappoint and mild anger in her voice grabbed me by the heartstrings.

It took me about two months but I had managed to go back on my word already. I know I’m a shit and don’t deserve love, but I was also a scared shit who didn’t know what to say. That conversation ended swiftly, I said I was sorry “but-” and she cut me off, saying she had to go.

First test of relationship: failed.


I was very disappoint in myself. We didn’t talk for a couple days, which for us was kind of a long time. She had asked for it not to be a secret and I had said yes and then I had yelled at her like…like a fucking parent when she treated me like a normal boyfriend. I had no idea where the line was between normal cautiousness and trying to respect her wishes. I still don’t, not really.

The incident blew over after some time. We didn’t talk about it specifically but she referenced me by name once in the open (on her profile), and I didn’t freak out about it, even leaving a “like”, or something along those lines. It was a shaky, nervous feeling to play on the edge like this. But we were not in person, we weren’t breaking laws, it was fine. It was fine it was fine it was fine. I lay awake at night sometimes. Just tried not to fuck up again.

Yeah, I know guys, none of us are perfect and I was going to not talk about that bit but I think it was more important than the weight I placed on it at the time. (foreshadowing: CHECK)

I accepted a couple friend requests, letting her best friends see my empty profile, though I still never replied to them, except for the occasional ola. I know, I know. I’m a fag, but OP is always a fag.

I just didn’t like them knowing my name. It made me uncomfortable.

This time, though, she wasn’t my secret girlfriend. We were openly in a relationship. It wasn’t a secret. I just tried to respect what she wanted, what she needed.

But I didn’t bring up all these fears with her. Maybe I should have. I was scared shitless almost as often as I was happy.


Another swift break to say, thank those providing free bumps but don’t feed them.

Time for the dramatic downturn we were bracing for, I’ll try and deliver it in a way that doesn’t make you slit your wrists or cry too hard. If you read my spoiler you know about this.

Lily was enjoying our relationship and I was, warily, coming around to the idea of her getting to be as open about it as I was. But nothing like that ever lasts and hey, guess what, fucking a 16 year old is still not chill by most people’s standards, even if you first did it when she was 13 (fantastic logic).

So someone was going to find out. Somehow I knew this and just hoped it wouldn’t be someone who would murder me. Unfortunately it turned out to be someone who absolutely wanted to murder me.

When their daughter started getting flowers, started talking about a mystery love, etc, Lily’s parents did notice. Her mom is a terrifying Asian tiger mom at heart, and anything that could influence her daughter’s academics was not good. Her father just wanted to protect his little girl, and someone with too much money to blow on her was likely not a safe boyfriend. So they started to investigate and after she left her computer open it took them three or four seconds to find her profile, find mine, and get very suspicious. (This is 75% assumption, as I am not them)

Obvious next part is obvious but we’ll still go nice and slow to make sure you enjoy your feel-fest, uncomfortable as it might be. If I were more clever I’d make some comparison between sex with Lily and this moment but I am not that smart and am amped up on a million+ cups of coffee so even stringing together a sentence that doesn’t run on and on forever is difficult hey wait a second is this still one sentence where was I let’s get back to the actual story alright so her parents.

They found the profile, which as you remember was the same name as my AOL profile. They didn’t know that name was me, but started to pay attention. Mystery was solved at some point, I don’t know when, as they saw my name mentioned. They must have been suspicious before or something, as just my first name was enough confirmation for both Lily’s parents to lose their minds. Again - this is second-hand information I am relaying, so mistakes are assumed.

Lily didn’t show up for a few days on chat and finally she called me from a number I didn’t recognize. It was obviously from her country, and I knew no one else who would call me from there, so I answered. “My parents think we’re dating.”

Cue me shitting my pants yet again - I think I do it a minimum of once per chapter. Seriously though, my heart sank, my stomach dropped, my bowels, um, did whatever they did. I was terrified. If they thought this now, maybe they had evidence of the before, oh god someone knew. SOMEONE KNEW.

Not being a secret was fine until we were actually not a secret.

She told me they had seen my name on her profile and asked her and she said of course not. They asked if we still talked and she said yes, assuming they already knew. That was a contradiction in their minds, and they started to question further - how long had we been talking? Had I been inappropriate with her? Etc. Lily said she got through the questions but oh jesus hearing her say what they had asked her terrified me.

Could they press charges? Could they hire someone to kill me? Could they block me from seeing her again? Worst of all, could they or would they TELL MY PARENTS?

It was just suspicion, just suspicion, nothing more. I had to remind myself of that constantly. But the pieces had to be falling into place for them - my visits, Lily’s “new friend” that one summer I was there (maybe me being a paranoid /x/ fag, but I still considered it), maybe even some sort of physical sign of the amount of sex we’d had. What did they know? What were they going to do?

I lived in limbo for a couple weeks. I don’t really remember going to classes, going out to drink (though I did this often, as otherwise I just lay awake in my bed all night), or talking to anyone. I was in a state of terror, feeling like my entire future was in the hands of someone else.

There was no evidence. There wasn’t. They couldn’t prove anything. The glove didn’t fit so they had to acquit.

As careful readers know my relationship with my parents is at level zero, we never talk and they just throw money at me when I seem needy either emotionally or physically or etc. While having an ATM parent is nice when you’re a faggot in college pretending to be independent, when you have a problem it is nice to have someone to talk to. Or something, I wouldn’t really know.Â

So my cell phone rang with an unknown number. I picked up nervously - as I have no friends, calls are almost universally a bad thing. We could let out an ironic laugh here when you realize I didn’t have my own father’s cell in my phone, but there you have it. This was the first time we’d talked since I’d been home briefly the previous January, after the trip to see 16-year-old Lily, and probably the first conversation initiated by him since I was ten years old.

Fear meter turned up to 11. Like watching Paranormal Activity, but actually scary instead of stupid.

"I heard from Lily’s father, couple things I thought we should talk about."

WORST FEARS CONFIRMED. I looked for a ledge to throw myself off of. My life was over.

XXXXX it’s at the lowest possible and i also turned the theme into tomorrow so it is black and i consume even less battery, 8% remaining…. cya tomorrow

To those offering advice, you know your OP was stupid (is stupid) and scared and not thinking. Plus no chance, and I wasn’t going to call them out of the blue to say “oh hey I heard somehow that you think I was with your daughter, doesn’t matter how I know”.

Talking with my dad is the worst even when we’re not discussing me going to prison 5ever for statutory raping the hell out of a little girl. He didn’t bring it up like that of course.Â

I only really remember the first part of the conversation, or rather the first thing he said. My terror was untenable, so I sat down and tried to not look like I was having a stroke on the quad.

Approximate quotes, then: "Sounds like you’ve been talking to his daughter for a bit. The younger one, Penny or something. Is that true?" "DERP DERP DERP" "Anyway he wasn’t very happy about it regardless. Just tell me, what is happening between the two of you?" "We’re friends, yeah." - the closest I could come to admitting, and obviously saying wayyy too much for a suspicious, worried parent. "You shouldn’t be friends with kids. Find someone your own age, alright?" "Right." "He’s angry, OP. Really angry. This will impact our working together, that’s why I’m calling." (Of course he wasn’t calling out of concern for his son, that would be crazy!) "Okay well, nothing inappropriate happened, we just talk. She helps me with Spanish, I help her find a college. Normal stuff."

There was a pause and I thought maybe I had explained my way out of it. Before I could give myself a massive high five he took a breath.

"That’s not what he’s saying. Look, you have to talk to him yourself, I’m not taking care of this for you."


There was no way I was calling Lily’s dad to explain that it was fine and he didn’t have to be angry and ha ha what a huge misunderstanding this all was! He seemed to have made a decision, and that he’d call my father about his personal life meant he was beyond pissed. I was fucked every which way and knew it. And not talking to Lily at all, her profile looked like she hadn’t been online since our initial phone call, was making me more irritable and highstrung than ever.

>what do

OP is smart, so he made a decision.

>do nothing

Do nothing worked for a little while. My academics suffered, my blood pressure soared, in general the stress level started to kill me. I imagined Lily’s father seeing a lawyer — he was a ruthless bastard, much like my father, thus why they worked well together. If he had evidence… I thought about what he might be able to find. He had no idea how to computer, as most my intern work revolved around helping him print word documents, so he couldn’t have done that.

Would Lily have admitted everything? No way. She’d be in as much shit as I would be if she did. So…he had to have nothing, right? Just his suspicious and a whole lot of very convenient timing. Also, of course, the flowers stopped at the exact moment he accused me via Lily. I realized that way too late to keep the flow going — but yeah, that felt like 100% confirmation from my perspective, so I figured it would be 101% for him.

But it felt like I was fucking dying. An anvil on my chest that got heavier every day while I tried to ignore it. I was still in love with her, and that love was about to derail the course of my life. Yet I couldn’t let go of it, of her, no matter what.

I don’t know when exactly, a few weeks after my talk with my dad, I got the lovely “new email” bing-bong. It was my dad again, we had now set a new record for communication in a single year. A loving tear fell down my cheek as I opened it. “Call Mr. Lily’s Father. Love, Dad.” Damn it.

After getting absolutely ruined on that semester’s finals, since I studied for three to five seconds before getting hit with a round of terror, I knew I had to do something.

So I decided to call him. I gathered up my balls and did a training montage and picked up the phone. Deny deny deny deny was my plan, and we’d see if I was as smooth as I hoped I was.

You know the feeling of when you are walking a survivor in Dead Rising back to the safe area but you know they are going to die due to being a dumbass? And yet you care about them and want them to survive…wait, bad example.

You know the feel of when you finally have the frog suit in Mario and then a fish hits you before you get to swim through a current and it is a total fucking bullshit waste…no, another bad example.

You know when you are just about to cross the finish line in first place in Mario Kart and you hear the “whoop whoop whoop” of a blue shell which fucks you delicate asshole within an inch of being the greatest winner? That is sort of like this feel. Ecstasy turned to agony in a millisecond because one person decided to be a dick.

I was scared and worried that this was it for the life I had planned. I wanted to be a businessperson and make money and be in a loving relationship (preferably with Lily). I wanted to play vidya games and eat tater tots with her. I wanted to be fat and old and happy and have little kinda-asian kinda-/b/tard kids running around our house. It felt like it might happen and it seemed like everything was pointing in the right direction, pointing towards a happy ending.

And then an angry dad decided I was a monster who had ruined his precious, perfect daughter. He wasn’t going to have none of that and based purely on suspicion chose to do everything he could to ruin me.

I was thousands and thousands of miles away from him and her. I had no way to talk to her. I had no one who knew the situation I was in, it was completely internal except to mention to a few friends that “my girlfriend and I are going through a rough time”. But how to tell them it was because her dad thought I had raped her? That he was ruining the tiny bit of reputation I had with my own father? That a grown man had it out for me and I was the only one who could solve the problem?Â

There are no words for the feels.

Maybe you’ve been in this situation, in a way, and can kind of relate. It feels like the world is out to get you. Like moot himself has looked down from heaven and decided you are not worthy of happiness.

So I called Lily’s dad.

"Listen faggot. You are old and don’t matter any more. In a year your job will be mine. You can’t touch me and I could ruin you any time I want to. You’re worth nothing. You’re the past and I’m the future. And yeah, I fucked your daughter and I loved it. I’ll probably do it again. Probably a whole lot of times. Go fuck yourself, you can’t do anything to me."

While that was what I planned to say, kind of, what came out instead was a scared little boy —Â

"Hi, Mr. Lily’s father, I heard you wanted me to call you."

He asked me why I was talking to his daughter, did I know how she was, etc. He said she was just a little girl and it was not appropriate for me to treat her like anything other than that. He knew we were friends and had been for a long time, per our many years of knowing one another, but he wasn’t comfortable with how close we appeared to be. He went on and on and on and I said nothing, letting him get it all out, which he did, unfortunately getting more and more angry with each sentence rather than more and more calm. By the end it sounded like he was spitting with rage —

"Stay away from her! You are a grown man, what you’re doing is disgusting!"

It was the sort of thing I had figured I deserved from the very moment I had had sex with her. The thought of that moment mixed with this one. It was kind of disgusting, what I’d done, if I were being a predator. But I loved her. Could I say that?


"We’re friends. I’m sorry if it seemed like I crossed the line. I like talking with her, she is a smart girl and I think she needs friends from back home."

"Sure, but you’re not that person, OP. Stay away from my daughter."

"What if she wants to talk to me?"

"She won’t."

Things seemed to be getting very final very quickly. He had stopped short of the accusation I thought he was going to make, but he was clearly adamantly opposed to whatever it was we were doing.

I didn’t think I could change his mind. But I also wasn’t going to let him win.

"I’ve been nothing but appropriate with Lily, and I will be in the future."

That sounds a lot braver than whatever drivel I actually said, but that’s the basic gist of it.

He got angry again and closed out the conversation seething with anger.

"Stay away from her. It isn’t right."


He could tell me to not talk to her but that didn’t mean I was going to listen to him, of course. She was 16 and she wasn’t some sort of precious doll who shouldn’t be spoiled. Girls her age got into all sorts of shit. She was not a little girl. Maybe she was when we started, and maybe that was where his anger came from, but she was not now. They couldn’t stop her.

This was quickly proven when we started talking again. Our first chat was stilted and awkward and I was at first quite confused.

I could write it in my Spanish but I won’t bother, you’ll just run to Google Translate and I’ll save you the clicks. But we talked in all Spanish for the first time.Â

"Sorry I’ve been away, had a thing with my parents." "Yeah" "Back now though, I’m so happy to talk to you again."

I clicked her profile open, noting her relationship status was now hidden, I was nowhere to be seen. Hm.

"I’m sure you have homework we can talk more later"

Oh. I was a high school friend now, or so I assumed. A somewhat smart plan that I played along with. We talked about classes, though summer break made it tough to actually say much of anything. It was weird but after a while it got slightly more normal. She wanted to call me after a couple weeks of fake-high school pal chatting, and we set a time she would call me from a friend’s home. It was our first talk since the parent explosion, and I worried about what she might say. But I wasn’t going to fucking give up, that was for sure. If anything this entire disaster had cemented my desire to be with her against all odds.

She understood where my desire to keep us a secret came from, finally. She said her dad asked about boys constantly, seeming to test the water to see if I’d popped up again or if another boy had. Her life had been miserable when her dad decided that I’d been molesting her for years, with him taking her phone, computer, etc, treating her like an infant despite her age. Lily was sad and angry and didn’t understand why this relationship made her father so angry. She had really thought the two of us wasn’t all that abnormal, just a slight age difference between people who loved each other. Going on, Lily said she knew she couldn’t talk about “the stuff we did when I was 13” but the rest could be open. Or so she had thought and hoped.

It turned out the one major hole was her friends. Her dad asked one of them about Lily’s boyfriend. That friends knew my name and knew I was from America. That was his proof that he’d been latched onto - the exact thing that at first made me angry and then made Lily pissed that I was angry about it. I couldn’t believe how direct the link was but didn’t rub it in Lily’s face.

So her dad had more than suspicion. He knew that she had a secret/mysterious boyfriend from America with my first name. I mean, who the fuck else could it be?

Obviously this meant the two of us had to be as underground as possible about being in touch. Her dad knew more than I had at first suspected. But nothing was going to keep me from talking to Lily, even an angry dad. I had talked with him and we had seemed to reach an extremely uneasy peace. So, this was our new normal. Utter secrecy from absolutely everyone (the way I had initially wanted it to be), but still constant contact. I missed her, she missed me. She even started to say she liked me again, which to say the least I appreciated a lot. We weren’t up to love yet…not again, but I hoped the day was coming (stupidly, romantically). Hearing her voice say she missed me when we hung up the phone felt very nice.Â

We had agreed to call every now and then, without her ever using her own phone, and to keep up her chats as her parents were in no way intelligent enough to keep track of those (presumably) (no, not a plot twist waiting to happen).

I loved this girl. But now people were starting to find out. Her father was convinced, my father likely was as well. Her mother and sister…hmm, likely in the same boat, though I didn’t worry about them quite as much (maybe I should have).

I was going down for the final “internship” the winter of my senior year in college. She’d be 17 and I’d still be 21, pretty close to totally fine by my count. But I’d be seeing her dad in person every day — counting down towards the day I replaced him, which everyone knew about.

It was not going to be pretty.

I tried to live in the present, the summer of an extra class and a shitty part time job. It wasn’t fun and I wished I had found a weekend or something to go see Lily, but oh well. Senior year began. We were moving towards another meet-up, likely the ugliest one yet. But. Well. I’d wade through a sea of hard moments to be with her.

I girded up my loins and prepared.


Last time on OP’s Story, I started senior year in anticipation of seeing Lily over my winter break, against all odds making something happen despite her dad hating me and me being a lying, manipulative pussy.Â

Our online chats were slightly less frequent those months. I did not have a large courseload but she was having a rough one in high school and was just trying to keep up while her parents continued to smother her social life. I had hoped they’d forget about me and their desire to treat Lily like a ten-year-old, but that was not to be.

She told me what it was like to have them pick her up from school, walk in on her using the computer, sometimes even check her phone (the ultimate invasion of privacy for a teen girl, I believe). They were being mean to Lily and I guess it made me furious at them, because I felt my dislike of those two growing day by day.

There was one scene I had meant to drop in yesterday, so let’s go back in time just slightly to after I had my conversation with Lily’s father. It was the summertime and I had just finished my extra class, thus free time was aplenty. I lived in my parent’s apartment but mostly slept at my friends’ due to not liking him (my father, my mother is basically a ghost).

One day he caught me though as I made coffee. He was wearing his tie, carrying his briefcase, being the Patrick Bateman motherfucker he always has been. I will not be surprised when the party van takes him away for being a serial killer. Anyway - he comes in and asks what my dinner plans are. I say nothing, he says good we have reservations at a decent-level restaurant that he likes. We hadn’t had a meal together, not just the two of us, since I was about 10. I tried not to connect it to Lily, but I did anyway. That entire day was horrible, just looking forward to him probably being disappoint at me while I tried not to choke him out.

We went do dinner and I reverted to a child, playing with my napkin, eating chicken nuggets, generally being an asshole. Only part of that is exaggeration.

He asked about school, if I was excited about working in the company, etc. Stupid nepotism that I know you all hate but it worked out for me even if it meant more deserving people get fucked. The world is not fair.

And then of course he brought it up. "So, Lily’s father." "Yeah?" "He’s still pretty upset. Convinced you did something with her when she was younger." "Dad, how many times do we have to talk about this?" "I didn’t say I believe either of you, just be careful with him. Business is personal." [maybe not his exact words, but something equally trite and useless] "Right." "I don’t care what you do with your personal life, just don’t do stupid things." "Right." "If you and Lillian have something going on…" "Dad." "If you do, just be quiet about it. That’s the last time I’m going to say it." "Right."

Dinner ended awkwardly, I ran away and went to bars with my friends until the wee hours of the morning. Probably bitched about my dad and annoyed everyone more than average, who knows.

While the above conversation is based on recollection and totally fallible he did say something along the lines of quietly sort of not really approving of it but also not caring.

So, I went back to college with weird approval from my father, the first time he’d approved of anything in my life since I chose my major in college. It was a strange feeling, but obviously I didn’t and don’t trust him and wondered if maybe it had been a trick to get me to admit it to him. The conspiracy theorist runs deep in your OP at times, and with Lily’s dad seeing to invest his all in preventing his daughter from contacting me and diving into our past to find my ‘sins’ it felt like some of the conspiracy feelings were warranted.

My friends noticed I was slightly less depressed and a fucking weirdo during that semester, I told them I was back together with my girlfriend and left it at that. Kind of a lie, not really, and hopefully none of them were part of Lily’s dad’s far-reaching spy network.

As I said above we talked less often than before, Lily and I, but I still enjoyed when we were able to. She was maturing a lot and it showed, she was certainly not the average 11-year-old when we started talking (sweet moot, what a pedo) but now she was growing up even more. She’d always been able to have conversations with me, but they worked at a higher level now…I don’t know how to explain it exactly. It just felt like we clicked really well every time we spoke to one another, like we fell into one another’s rhythm the moment the chat window opened with a “hey”. I’ve never had that feeling with someone else, like they really get me and are interested in me, and vice versa. It was…great.

Maybe we were both growing up together, I am sure the internet psychologists out there have already diagnosed me with manchild syndrome, so perhaps my emotional age was always approximately alongside hers and now the two of us were slowly moving towards adulthood alongside one another. I like to think of it like that, personally.

Let’s get a little deeper there, I think that’s some ground I’ve yet to explore even now.

Was I just an emotionally stunted teen when we first started talking? I think so. Like a lot of you out there, and I’m not trying to insult you, I was ahead academically but behind emotionally. My personality was shit, I had no friends, I just had my good grades and my vidya games and my /b/. I did not mature alongside most normal people when I was in junior high and then high school, at least I do not think I did. When they were drinking, hooking up, etc it felt like I was either not cool enough or not old enough to join in.

I do not think that having sex with Lily was 100% the right thing to do. But I also do not think that I was fully in the wrong, I think we were far more ‘equal’ than we would be in any court of law. I don’t know how many girls are sexually active at 13/14 or how many are capable of having serious feelings at 10 (as Lily claimed), but… She was the first person I had really serious feelings for, despite our relationship starting out with her trickery.Â

Lily made me understand why people had girlfriends, why people dated, why people obsessed over their ‘other halves’. She was the first person to make me feel like a grown-up with grown-up feelings.

Did I take advantage of my age or my “male privilege”? Maybe. Did I hurt her? Maybe. Was I mature enough for the relationship in the first place? No, judging by my actions my freshman year she was far more able to handle it than I ever was.

I don’t know guys. This started out as just a one-off story I was not going to expand on and now you are actually getting me to look inward and it is exciting and painful and… I don’t know.

Sorry for the derailment but, well, there it is.

Lily made me a man, the man I am today.

Okay. Back to senior year - the semester is ending and I am about to go see her…

Leaving the inside of my head behind, let’s move into the real world, just a few years ago. I hopped on the plane down to the office, sort of excited but mostly not as I’d be seeing the man who hated me literally every day while I was down there (maybe not literally, I had Sundays off). Dinner at their house was obviously out of the question, but I entertained the fantasy of showing up anyway.

Of course having him blow me away the moment I stepped foot into his home was how that fantasy ended usually and I did not have a desire to be murdered,just not my particular fantasy though I’m sure one reader out there has a boner thinking about it.

It was so uncomfortable. Incredibly uncomfortable. Or at least it was when I first walked into the office, avoiding the eyes from the back office that I was sure were burning with uncontrollable rage, probably some sort of Lucifer-esque fire shooting from them.

I was scared which was a weird feeling. My fear before had been being found out, now my fear was being confronted by a man who actually frightened me, being confronted with facts that I would not be able to deny or not be able to answer. Gulp.

Was the sex worth this fear? No, it wasn’t.

But - was Lily worth this fear? Was Lily worth any amount of uncomfortable moments? Yes, she was. That was why I had come back, something I had to keep reminding myself.

He sent me messages via his secretary. Before he’d come to my desk, now it was all through third parties. That first day he brushed by my desk on his way out, not speaking to me or touching me or even acknowledging me outside of the one memo with a list of tasks on it.

I was nobody, invisible, someone who didn’t matter. I realized this after a couple more days of being ignored, and hell yeah I could live with that.

So that covers the work aspect and the Lily’s dad aspect, for the time being. I was no one and that was not a problem at all. I could live with being no one so long as he never actually talked directly to me. Also, this meant he must have had no evidence of anything…right? Right? Okay, leaving work behind.

Lily knew, obviously, that I was coming down to work and had been thinking about possibilities to see me. It was not going to be easy due to her parents having her on a tight leash, but they’d started to loosen up slightly over the previous semester. However the moment my feet touched the soil of the same city she was in, her parents snapped right back into /r9k/ mode, banning left and right. Er, that doesn’t exactly work. They got strict again, keeping track of everywhere she went, who she was with, etc.

Remember, her birthday is just before winter break (not saying the month due to fear) and she had thus just turned 17. (Sorry loli fans) She was 17 for moot’s sake, I did not understand why she was being treated like a child just because I was around. But she was and I couldn’t do anything about it except sigh and mope.

Of course our two heads together were smarter than her parents’, so we came up with a few potential plans to see one another. Unfortunately the best one involved one of her friends covering for us, and it seemed like the only real plausible way. At this time I did not know one of her friends had actually sold me out, as it were, to her dad (this story would probably go way differently had I known), so I reluctantly went along with it.

Lily went to her friend’s house, friend confirmed Lily was there, Lily spoke to her parents, Lily then went to restaurant where I’d meet her. Yeah, not exactly the bedroom reunion you (I) were (was) hoping for, but better than nothing!

But the restaurant meetup! Ah, it made it all worth it! She swept in looking gorgeous, though not exactly dolled up for a ball at the governor’s mansion, she could have been wearing anything and I’d have had the same reaction. This girl was beautiful inside and out - from talking online I was in love with her inside, her personality, her true self. And after all that, each time I saw her in person I just loved her more. I know most people are beautiful on the inside, or so Walt Disney taught me, but rarely do they also get blessed with being appropriately beautiful on the outside. I think most us /b/tards fall into the majority camp, where we may talk real good but are still shlubby butts on the outside.

I met Lily with a big hug, holding back the kiss I wanted to give her. We walked into the restaurant, and she grabbed my hand. Having her hand fly into mine, grip it tight, our fingers interlocking…my god. THe beauty of it, of her showing she missed me, even needed me. It felt amazing.

That lasted for just a few moments until we reached our table. She stood by her seat. It wasn’t a five-star restaurant, I am not really the overdoing it kind of guy (yes I am) but it was okay and we were among just a handful of customers.Â

She wasn’t a kid any more, she still looked young and probably would for a while, but fuck anyone who was looking. I hugged her again after we just stood there looking at each other. My hands fell down her, holding the small of her back, pressing her closer.

Lily moved her arms to my shoulders. That oh-so-familiar motion, fingers brushing the back of my neck. I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers.

We had not kissed in years. Years, anon. It was as magical as I had hoped, our mouths parting, that same regular motion as before, the same as it had always been. The same but better, more emotion behind it, more years of desire and experience…

We had to break away eventually.

We did so reluctantly, hands slowly falling off of one another, our faces coming apart, eyes looking right into one another’s. Seeing her face so close up, her beautiful eyes, her beautiful dimples still unchanged…

The fact that we had managed to stand up and kiss was lost on me in that moment, but as you all remember she had once upon a time worried about our height difference. I still had to bend down, and she was on tip-toes, but we did kiss without sitting.Â

How far we’d come. In so, so many ways.

It felt like I was shaking all over as I sat. I did not have a world-shattering erection as I usually did with her, though I am sure I had one, but that wasn’t what I was focused on in the moment. I was focused on her, my Lily. We had kissed again, finally. She still cared about me. And I still most definitely loved her with every fiber of my being.

I think Eminem said something about loving someone so much that it hurts. Or maybe Aesop, one of the two. I knew that feel. I had thought I knew it before but now I really truly knew it. I loved her more than anything in the world.

So that was what I said after we ordered drinks. “I love you, Lily.”

My voice shook with emotion even though I tried to steady it. I’m a beta fag and we know it but I tried to not be. How do you tell someone how they make you feel? How do you say how often they are in your thoughts? I did not go for the Shakesperean soliloquy. We ordered food.

She finally said it - she loved me too. It came during talk about our years apart. She said how much she missed me.

I could hardly bear the thought of it.

Lily, on her bed, in the bedroom we had first kissed, thirteen years old, crying her eyes out over an asshole who had taken her everything and then dropped her. I had caused that pain and even though she was now years away from it I felt like an animal for having caused it.

"But I couldn’t hate you."

That was half what I had been waiting for.

"Because I still loved you."

"And now?"

Yeah, I prompted it, but I had to.

"I love you."

There it was. I almost dove at her, grabbing her and kissing her and whispering how much she meant to me in her ear. But the table was bolted to the floor and my diving wasn’t very good so I decided not to.

We ate and chatted about her day, with one eye kept on the clock at all times to ensure we did not go over the appointed time she had to arrive at her home.

"So, your dad." "He never talks about you. You talk about him more often than he mentions you."

Der, I felt idiotic for realizing maybe I was obsessing over him more than anyone else was obsessing over anyone else. Definitely should have considered this.

"But he says he knows we did stuff when I was younger."

Okay, we had covered this before. I tried not to push it, but rather asked how he treated her, whether or not she was okay.

"He called me a slut when he found out." Slut. >Slut >SLUT.

The world stopped spinning and I saw red He had called his sweet, innocent, perfect daughter that word. His own daughter! She had never, would never… Well she had done that but she wasn’t… I know I use that word myself in a joking manner even in this story and should not try to take the semantic moral high ground, but FUCK HIM. I spat out “what the hell?” while Lily looked at her plate sadly.

"He said I should have known better."

"Where was he getting this?" It seemed like her dad was using his suspicions to attack her, and even though this conversation had happened many months previous I wanted to punch him in the teeth for daring to make her feel less than. Maybe this was when I finally became a man, as my fear of her dad was suddenly gone, replaced with likely somewhere near the same amount of hatred he had for me.

"He said he just knew."

I wouldn’t let anyone talk like that to her, not ever.

Obviously she saw the rage spilling over as I seethed, unable to come up with a verbal response.

"Don’t be mad. It’s okay."

Again, trying to contain the venom I was feeling building in my…throat? Brain? Venom glands? I spoke very carefully. “He shouldn’t. Talk to you. Like that.”

My desire to be in a movie was very high at that moment, with a sudden villain appearing, demanding me to take care of him and restore the honor of my one true love.

"I don’t want to talk about it." She shut down the conversation icily, her voice containing a hard edge I was not familiar with. It would almost scare me, but instead it just defused my anger… Lily had dealt with this shit all alone. I hadn’t been able to do anything and there had been no one on her side. I’d been so obsessed with how -I- was impacted and how -I- could deal with it…I had not thought for nearly long enough about what she had to have been going through. I’ll always regret that. I should have bought a plane ticket immediately, talked to her dad, and if he refused to see reason, snatched Lily and run away to St. Kitts. If only…if only.

(Ironically something along the lines of that was suggested in the last thread. If someone invents a time machine please find faggot stupid idiot OP and tell him)

So I let my anger turn fully into disappoint at myself, making it be about me again, and then slowly shift to apologetic.Â

"I should have been there for you."

It is only now that I look back on her demanding we not be ‘secret’, now I wonder if that caused all this, if maybe it was her fault… But that doesn’t matter. Her expectations made perfect sense, and I say that even now. I just wish we had…I don’t know, we had been more honest or more careful. One or the other.

But then the dinner was over. We’d talked for easily two hours and she had to swiftly head home.

The goodbye was so difficult. Any sexual arousal was gone, I was filled with so many confusing emotions I had no idea which to stick with.

Maybe this is why I doubted following through with this story, as the boner-inducing stuff got so swiftly outweighed by these things. The real life, the real feelings and difficulties that came with a difficult, abnormal relationship. But here we are and I’m still continuing but getting more and more navel-gazing with each installment, fuck someone make me stop okay thanks.

The next day at work, following our dinner date (where we did indeed kiss goodbye, forgot to include that, but it was far more brief as she was running late and scared of ruining chances for another meetup) (Oh, and the fact that she planned on meeting up again…well, hopefully you are 10% as excited as I was that she had planned that far ahead) (Why am I writing this part in parentheses).

Right, the next day at work nothing was different except one major thing. I made direct eye contact with her dad when I came in. No glaring, no hissing and baring of my teeth. But I looked at him and pursed my lips. I wasn’t going to lie down and be his bitch, I would fight him about this and I would do anything to make him pay for what he’d done to Lily.

Had what I’d done to her left even more of a scar? Perhaps. But I could only self-flagellate for so long and having someone outside of myself to be angry at simplified things plenty for your OP. When he walked past me I’d swivel my chair and look at him. He never responded, usually averting his eyes within moments. It may have been really stupid to have such an obvious change come about without any warning, maybe he connected it to Lily going out, but then again that is more conspiracy then even I am willing to buy into. Mostly.

I wanted to make him uncomfortable and maybe I succeeded. And I knew I wouldn’t stop with that…just had to find the right way to fuck him in a permanent manner. Or kill him. Suddenly I was starting to understand the emotions he potentially had towards me.

Good news everyone, while I have about 45 minutes left to write, there will be one final part after this one, due to me being a wordy bastard. All that stuff about feels was not planned to be in this but I don’t know, you got me in a mood of sorts. Maybe it is the lack of coffee or the fact that I took thirty Xanax before I started today.

But we have one more major scene before then. I’m going to have to pick up the pace a little though. _____

I did not turn full alpha, mostly I just looked at her dad and let him know I wasn’t scared of him. This was more than the OP of two days previous would have done, so I was proud of myself even though it was useless and/or meaningless. The anger bubbled inside me though. I wondered what else he might have said or done that Lily had not told me, but when we talked I avoided bringing it up, fully aware of how much it had hurt her to even bring it up with me in the first place.

So we kept talking and four weeks was over before I knew it, with one more meetup between us planned. This one was a few more hours than the previous and I had pretty obvious hopes for it that Lily seemed to be reciprocating. We would have dinner and then retire to somewhere else before she went home. You know where this is heading and so did I and so did she and oh boy it had me as excited as anon when he first saw that porn of Michelle Obama fucking an anthropomorphized french fry.

We met at a restaurant closer to my hotel. We kissed hello and ate rather quickly (or maybe I just shoveled it down because I am a maniac and was praying I knew what was next). I asked if she was alright with going to my place after eating and she said she had hoped to.

>nineteen boners

I had not been a monk since we had broken up, as I said I’d had sex with a couple girls in college though that was more about being drunk and in college than actually liking anyone. But it had been about two years since the previous time, and three and a half since I’d been with Lily. So I was excited and nervous and wondering if she’d been waiting and wondering if it’d feel the same and…well, everything that comes when you are riding in the elevator to your hotel room with your once and forever greatest love — you’ve felt that haven’t you? Okay well try it on for size it is bizarre.

When we were in my hotel room we reverted right back to what we had been. That summer she had been a nervous if excited teen who stripped her clothes off and hopped into bed with me - or rather hopped atop me. I had been an excited, horny wreck who wanted nothing more than to have her close to me, ripping clothes off and jumping into bed within seconds of the door closing.

And that was still what we were. Before the door closed we were all over each other. She had not morphed into a sex goddess, no jumping into my arms or fingering my butthole or tearing my shirt in an erotic fit of ecstasy. We just kissed in the doorway, hands up and down one another, finally with me holding her head close to mine, her wavering dangerous on her very tippiest of toes, trying to reach my height (I love that she was shorter than me, probably one of my very specific favorite attributes of her). We staggered towards the bed, simultaneously, with her unbuttoning and removing her shirt after dropping her sweater, revealing a much more adult bra than the last one I’d seen, holding breasts that were certainly fuller but still along the lines of what I knew. Her sides curved somewhat more than I remembered, and I rubbed my hands up and down that bare, smooth skin a few times, marveling at the change, the beauty, the perfection of her. I sat down on the bed as she unbuttoned her jeans.

I ripped my own pants off as she finished undressing, revealing her naked body (though the bra remained on for the moment) to me. She was so beautiful, I almost feel like I would do her a dishonor trying to describe. Lily was perfect. Imagine your perfect girl, she was that. That and more. I loved seeing how she’d changed and yet remained familiar, again my hands on her hips, the once-subtle curves there somewhat more pronounced. I put my hand on her stomach, it remained small and taut, her belly button the same little winking nub it always had been. She climbed onto the bed, on my lap, and we kissed like lovers separated for eons and finally back in one another’s arms. I did manage to get a condom on somewhere in the fracas, don’t worry this is not a tale of accidental pregnancy despite that being what OP deserves. I went back to the headboard, leaned against it with my shoulder blades pressing into the cold wood. This was exactly how we’d done it before, exactly. Everything was the same, the only thing that had changed was us, and at the same time we were the things that had most stayed the same.

She kissed me more, resting on my thighs, my boner comically large as she finally moved upwards, held it gently with her hand, and slid me into her. We didn’t have to fight as much this time, though she was nearly as tight as before. She slid up and down, my hands on her hips, getting me deeper each time.

After a while it felt incredible, felt like more than I had ever remembered. Excuse the fact that I’m getting all sex on you again, but… I looked down. This was the first time, ever, that I’d been all the way inside of her. Maybe this should just be ignored or maybe I should move past it, but it felt important to me.

I was in her. We were one. I can’t write porn very well.Â

You can have some tears with your fap just this once, we’ll keep it between the two of us.

So we fucked. But more than that. We were starved for one another physically, but this was more like making love. I did not roll her over and pound her into oblivion as anon might be fantasizing. We kept it the way it always had been, her moving slowly, adjusting, in charge of the motion, my lips all over her, undoing her bra and removing it after a moment, my hands on her, her hands on me…

She went so slow. We weren’t quite as frantic, fucking until we were both sore, we took our time.

Like all things, it came to an end. We lay together. She moved to my side, curled around me, her arm over my chest, her legs intertwining with mine. Her head just below my chin, like that one moment when she was 13…hair still familiarly dark and soft.Â

We just lay there, not speaking, not moving, not doing anything.

It was perfect. A small break to say; don’t believe all the conspiracies.

Also those quads have confirmed that I should be writing this so that’s good. _____

She had to leave. Our parting was incredibly reluctant, and we both knew it’d be some time before we saw one another again. My plane left the next day. I didn’t care if her parents thought we had met up any more…I didn’t care about anything past Lily.

I walked her all the way to the curb, kissed as she got into the taxi. Watched it disappear around a corner before making my way up to my hotel room, the bed disheveled… My heart felt like it was tearing for the millionth time since I’d started this entire saga. But I learned to embrace the feeling. The pain was part of the love, it just came with it. Bittersweet feels are not so good but they are an acquired taste.

I flew back home. I entered my last semester of college, prepping to enter the Real World and maybe Making Something of Myself as was expected. Communication with Lily was near-constant and I talked a little more openly about how much I enjoyed her physically, trying to be slightly less beta. I said I wanted her in my arms every night for the rest of my life. I would never love anyone the way I loved her. She said the same to me, adding that after all these years, how could she not have those feelings?

It felt so good. I did not know how I deserved her and she did not know how she deserved me. We were young and in love and no one else could change that or impact us.

I was so happy. :)


I pre-wrote a tiny segment of this before deleting it, so this is going to be the usual slow pace. I guess from the attention that seems to be growing, per what I’ve been told, we may run into auto-sage and have to move to a new thread. Just pay attention, I’ll try to as well. There’s no way for me to indicate who is me and who is not but hopefully it will be clear.

So, here goes. The end.

A quick snapshot of now. I am writing this from a hotel room, where I have been living for close to eight months. In general I do not go out, and no one seems to notice or care. My job can be done from anywhere in the world and this seems as good a place as any to put down roots. This weekend was the first time I’ve left my current city since 2012.

House keeping comes in every now and then but I do not usually let them. I am not in a pit of squalor, not quite Howard Hughes with bottles of pee. I’m in my home, my safe place. When I started writing this story I had just wanted to share a brief snippet of my life to cheer people up, which I thought might cheer me up as well. I had a fake ending planned and you can see hints of it in part one, I think. After writing it, though, I started to see the past in a different light.

Deciding to finish this story was not an easy choice. Leaving it be would be much easier. But I owe it to myself and I guess I owe it to anyone who has bothered to read. I’ve never written anything non-school or work related in my life and never thought more than a couple dozen people might read this story. Yet here we are.

I’m in my hotel room. You are wherever you are. How did I end up here? Well...let’s go back in time, about three years, to when part six ended.

Seventeen year old Lily and soon-to-be 22-year-old OP were in love with each other despite our families opposition. Although I shouldn’t go completely Romeo & Juliet on you - it was mostly her family’s opposition, I am certain I could have been fucking a goat and my father would only say “well don’t let him shit on MY couch”. (See that? Because OP is a faggot)

We were still separated by many countries but it did not matter to me. We started to experiment with getting intimate from afar -- which is to say cybering and using cams and etc. Technology seemed to have advanced quite a bit, or maybe I was just slightly more desperate and she was more willing, but soon many of our conversations turned inappropriate before one of our bedtimes rolled around. I had a single bedroom at school, finally, so this also contributed to my ability to do as I pleased.

It was nothing like having her in my arms or in my bed. But it would do for now, I could handle it for the time being. Only as long as necessary, no longer. Sorry, no caps (at least on my end). And Lily did not become a complete slut (much as I hate using that word in the same sentence as her name), she was not stripping down to her underwear every time we spoke or typing “i suck your dick up and down and up and down mmmmm”. It was approximately half a step more sophisticated than that. I still have my sick animal mind but...our sex wasn’t really freaky, we’d never even tried oral or anything like that, so we didn’t try to broach those sorts of subjects. More just...trying to feel close to one another.

We’d used words alone for a very long time. It was nice to have a new medium. I guess that’s the best way to say it.

As most remember I was bearing down on graduation swiftly, with decent grades and a plan to ascend via nepotism into my father’s company. Taking over Lily’s dad’s job was still sort of my plan though I did not bring it up directly with my father. We agreed I’d move back home for a while after graduating with me working in the primary office. Essentially I’d be working as a drone, but that was alright by me. Better to at least appear to be earning my job.

Yeah, I’m disgusted by it too.

Though talking with Lily via Skype was easy enough sometimes we decided to use the phone. We never got inappropriate via that medium, though it wasn’t really a conscious choice. And I am not sure why we even bothered, but to me there is something slightly more intimate about a phone call. It was great to hear her voice, to hear her apprehensions about entering senior year. Maybe I just want to brag, but she was the classic genius who breezed through school and was (hopefully) going to be valedictorian. Which I’d say in Spanish to be funny/multicultural but fuck opening Google Translate just for that.

That semester there was only one other major incident. I was talking to my beloved regularly, I was marked as “in a relationship” on Facebook. Though without a name connected to it...well, whenever I see “in a relationship” without a name I assume it is someone creating an e-girlfriend. And my half-Asian girlfriend living in another country who I didn’t ever want to talk about sounded like the most fake girlfriend ever imagined in a masturbatory frenzy.

We talked on the phone every few weeks, text-chatted (what verb use guys) almost every day, and Skyped weekly. It was not enough to be overbearing and just frequent enough for me to have missed her every time her face popped up on Skype.

The sound of the Skype call being made became a sort of Pavlovian signal. I was always so excited (despite the shitty connection, the pixelation and sound delay) to see her smiling face appear. To hear her always-chipper “Hi!”. Maybe I am just mentally weak but when I was in a poor mood my own “hello” was usually glum, causing her to inquire. Far more often than not, though, my heart would leap and I would let out my own exuberant “hey!”. A long-distance relationship is garbage as you know, but we did our very best and I think we made it work.

Usually she’d describe her day, and I mine. Hers full of academia...and actually mine about the same. It was weird to have our lives running sort of parallel. Though generally my business classes intrigued her zero, her interests running more towards psychology (uh-oh will this become a problem) (nah). Lily learned to ask about balance sheets and/or business simulations and/or that one group project where no one is willing to do the goddamn powerpoint and I learned to ask about yearbooks and other things that my apparently racist self was unaware they had everywhere.

We were both kind of adults now. I liked the change in our relationship. But there was no change in how we talked, as open and clear as ever. I never felt like I had to hide things from her...from my uncomfortableness at the various senior parties, as the faggot friendless loser who doesn’t like drinking, to my depression at the future I was heading towards without ever really making any choices along the way. And she listened.

And she’d talk to me too. About the racial difficulties she faced, the class situation she found herself in (er, social class, that is), being fairly wealthy compared to the average person in her city, but the same as the other expat kids, meaning she never knew where to find friends. Her issues made me feel pretty small usually. And my “help” seemed useless whenever I offered it.

Maybe that’s how relationships work, though. She didn’t stop talking to me, or bringing things up. And my feelings for her were growing, eventually reaching the point there I figured there was no way they could go any further.

Of course things had to hit a small bump. I had about a month of school left which had me waking up every morning fairly anxious. Ending my time in school was nice to look forward to, but diving into real life was not.

The logistics of being with Lily were also starting to hit me. I knew I couldn’t do long-distance permanently and I doubted she could either. We needed to be working towards being together, really together. So...there was a lot tumbling around in my mind when my phone rang on the way to eat or shit or perform some other incredibly important task. It was an unknown number from Lily’s country, I figured Lily calling from a friend’s phone, a nice surprise if an abnormal time.

So when a man’s voice came through my tinny speaker I was more than taken aback. Surprise! Her dad was back to let me know I was an ass. First he asked who it was, as if he didn’t know, then asked if this was my number. It clearly was. I said so.

Starting off with “you know I’m glad you’re coming to work with us”, he then went into a lengthy tirade about how inappropriate my relationship with Lily was. She was in high school and I was about to graduate from college, it was inappropriate, etc. He said he’d warned me off once before and judging by his phone bills I’d changed absolutely nothing. The man could get angry on a dime, and maybe it was just all the blood draining out of my head but it felt like he was shrieking into my ear by the end. It went on and on, and I said nothing.

At the end, I went for it. Kind of. “Your daughter and I care about each other. We’re so far apart, I’m not about to run off with her. But I care about her very much and I don’t think that’s going to change.”


He went on for a bit longer, saying that if she was an appropriate age when this shitshow had begun it wouldn’t be a problem, but she hadn’t been, and I was a pig for continuing it. He hung up, and that was that.

> >achievement unlocked: “pussy”

Though after I blocked him I realized that calling him was probably going to be necessary in the near future. Good thing I’m so forward-thinking, as I have been throughout this tale.

I decided not to mention it to Lily, who didn’t say anything to me either. Our phone calls became less frequent, to my disappointment, but I figured if her dad was still examining phone bills for international calls (what had happened to the thing where we avoided international calls on phone paid for by him? no idea) it was best to lay low. It felt dumb to be hiding any of it...but necessary at the same time. At least this time around I’d taken a huge step towards being less of a bitch. So that was good.

He was aware and creeping around in the background of our otherwise pretty-good love story. It made me concerned once in a while...but not too often. He could fuck off. I loved Lily, she loved me, that was that. And he was a bastard anyway, whose little ‘slut’ comment still meant I owed him a punch in the face (moot will no longer wish to be the little girl before I punch someone in the face, though).

I graduated from college. I wore the hat and the robe and got the piece of paper that certified me as not being totally stupid. Shockingly my father made it to the ceremony which served to make it unpleasant for both of us.

One standard “whoo I am young and white” month of traveling and enjoying life before I entered the mind-numbing world of business later, I entered the mind-numbing world of business. Things slowed with Lily, she was out of school around when I got back (while traveling the time zones were a disaster, we settled for a few emails here and there), and I didn’t want to be impeding her summer.

There was no way I was going to see her that summer which was definitely a disappointment for me. I wanted to see her very much but it siply was not going to happen.


So I worked. She also traveled a little bit, got pretty tan, ...showed her tan lines to me via Skype on a handful of occasions. I wanted to have my arms around her, hands on her side, feeling those curves, feeling her move beneath (oops) above me... My love wasn’t quite obsession, I wasn’t looking at her face every two minutes or building a life-size doll of her in my bedroom, but it was certainly in the neighborhood.

Again, I tried not to be overbearing. It was difficult. We were about half and half in initiating contact, so don’t think I was going quite that far. Just almost.

Here, let’s go into a long discussion of my job. I am sure it will interest you. So supervising supply chains and local management teams is

Oops, I fell asleep just like all of you did. None of us care about that. Though be aware that it instantly was 75% of my life, time will likely appear to start moving a little quicker in the story as axing out the work stuff leaves us with Relevant Material that swiftly leaps across a span of time.

What was I even trying to say in that paragraph?

Things were much the same.

I’ll be honest, by October I was getting bored of it. Long distance sucks and I doubt Lily was feeling quite as enthused to hear me say “I love you” before hanging up on Skype for the five hundredth time. We wanted to be with each other. Fortunately I was no longer hampered by a school schedule and thus started to plan out another winter trip. January would mark a year since I had seen her so I shot for a little before then. A year was too long. Eleven months was so much better! December it was.

No surprise this time around, I told her on her 18th birthday and we had a small celebration together. We both marked the day on our calendar, checking off the days like a little boy during Ramadan (maybe that was just me). I arranged it with the home office so I’d take care of some stuff down there. The zero administrative resistance I encountered started to clue me in on how non-important location was for my job. Yeah, I’d be seeing Lily’s dad every day as usual, this time with a lot more forced interaction. Being colleagues would hopefully mean he could leave his personal emotions at the door (of course I knew I couldn’t, lolololol).

The next reunion, finally here! I hope you are as happy as me, as happy as I was to finally have her back. I am not sure how she finagled it, but Lily managed to meet up with me my very first day on the ground -- perhaps her father had managed to understand that being 18 does not mean you are secretly 8.

As before, we did not run to a hotel to dive into one another, but we met outside a restaurant. Seeing her get out of her car...same hair, same body, same everything I loved about my Lily. She was wearing a rather mature outfit, a blouse with jeans, and I felt the old pants demon stirring as I considered unbuttoning it. (hi welcome to a guy’s mind, it is ugly in here)

Huge hug. We wrapped around one another, pulled our heads away to reposition for a kiss. She felt almost fragile, light as ever, her head not really fitting beneath mine like it had once so long ago, but still shorter. Again, the kiss was managed despite her height. It makes me laugh to look back at when she first had that concern - being too short to kiss me. Seems like eons ago.

We ate dinner and talked. Lily knew how unenthused I was about my work, and prodded about why I was bothering with it. This was the first time (other than drunk college bros) that someone had actually pinned me to the wall with the facts as I presented them -- I hated what I was doing, didn’t want to do it, etc. So why was I doing it? This wasn’t our first conversation but close to it and damn she had a point. Why was I doing it if I truly did not want to?

A part of me wanted to, that much was clear. Lily got me to admit it. I felt a little sick saying it after all the ‘fight’ I had put up, as you saw in this story. She seemed satisfied once I said it.

“I don’t want you to always be unhappy with where you are.” Either she’d accidentally eaten a book of morals or was some kind of swami. I appreciated it, though.

We moved on to talking about her. These conversations happened over the course of a multi-week visit, but for the sake of story I’m condensing them to here. She wanted to attend an American college and study psychology. Lily’s hope was to attend a really excellent program, preferably Ivy League. This matched up nicely enough with my geography, and plus there is something sort of hot about someone that driven. I encouraged as best I could. When I asked what drove her towards that field she just said she thought it was really interesting learning about how people think and what made them think that way. Shit. Smart girl. In high school they’d touched upon some of those subjects briefly and Lily had always found that fascinating.

I hoped she’d be able to identify what was wrong with my brain, though I figured waiting until she had her Master’s degree would be essential for her to not be overwhelmed.

Work was what I expected. I was irate as soon as I saw Lily’s dad, of course, and maybe he was angry too but just more of a badass alpha. I don’t even lift you guys, of course her dad was better than me.

We managed to keep it professional and just did our work. I felt 1% more inspired to try after my talk with Lily, and her dad seemed weirdly accepting of me taking on a few of his responsibilities as a ‘trial’. He is not an old bastard, just a pretty old bastard, so accepting retirement did not seem like it was his style. Maybe it was?

The hiding was minimal this time around. She still had school so we had to work around that schedule (though I worked at almost the same hours), but there was not nearly as much sneaking. We were in a relationship and I, for one, wasn’t going to act like I was ashamed of it or her.

This meant for the first time ever we walked down the street, and in a park (not that one), holding hands. We’d held hands before plenty, but never in public, never where everyone could see us. I loved it - two foreigners, one attractive and one faggot OP, attracted just the right amount of attention. I ate it up, though I think Lily was used to the stares and either did not notice them or pretended not to.

I just liked having her hand in mine. I liked the swaying motion in our arms as we matched our pace to one another. It was... It was something. We’d kissed, had sex, done many things. But each ‘new thing’, even as simple as holding hands, reminded me all over again how great it was to be in love, specifically in love with her. With Lily.

And yeah, there was sex, not that you need it confirmed I don’t think. Ah, okay fine, you’ve been reading for a while, I’ll indulge you.

We experimented with oral for the first time. Well, I tried to. She didn’t want me to go ‘down there’ on her, pushing away my attempts a couple times until I agreed not to do it. “but how will I become expert so Khia will love me” I said sadly. However doing things on partner does not like in bed is a recipe for the worst relationship, so I let it be.

Then she said she’d give it a shot. AWWWRIGHT ANONS GET YOUR ENGINES STARTED

I lay on my back while she scooted down the bed, perpendicular to my side, bending over and brushing her hair behind her ear while she get herself in the...proper spot. Just the flick of the hair behind the ear was almost enough for me to lose it. Fortunately I did not but goddamn. Soon her mouth was on me, not really ‘engulfing’ so much as teasing up and down the sides, her tongue a rough little devil that was far too stimulating. After a little bit of this play she moved and held my level 9000 mega-boner upwards and brought her mouth over it. I don’t know how many of you have seen a girl’s cheeks puff out when she gives oral but shiiiiit. That moment happened. It was my first time getting oral and her first time giving so I can’t say if it was excellent or poor or whatever, all I know is it got me off like crazy. When she was finished I attempted to move towards her again, got rejected again. We cuddled until I felt up for more and then had sex the normal way, her on top.

This happened a handful more times throughout the trip. Not the oral - that was a one-time thing, I figured if she was not into it then I was not going to be into it either. Though I was into it. But really, sex is sex and it all felt pretty good to me.

(Sorry, if you’re holding onto your orgasm for an anal scene, there is not one coming)

The timeline for me taking over her father’s job was not a straightforward thing. I needed (wanted) more training and preparation before becoming a higher-manager, and taking over his job just felt like overkill for the new kid on the block. The trip ended, Lily and I did not cry this time, just clung to each other for a few minutes in the hotel lobby before I headed up up and away.

That summer she went off on her own little ‘trip’ after high school, cutting off our contact for a decent amount of time. We met up in my home city and went to a few nice places, enjoyed a museum or two, in general were a Very Classy Pair of Dicks. I loved every second, at least every second her hand was in mine, or every time we kissed in front of a particularly memorable backdrop. It was perfect.

She entered college a few states away in the fall, and this meant we could -gasp- meet up on weekends! Have regular dates! Have sleepovers! Real life was starting and I was in the perfect position. Maybe her friends weren’t chill with her graduate boyfriend but I know I was.

Lily got into college full-bore. She was in clubs, doing excellent academically, and presumably beating away suitors with a stick. Or so I hoped. Guys in college preying on freshman girls are usually pretty skilled, but I figured Lily was not quite that dumb. Nah, I knew she wasn’t dumb. I still managed to get nervous every now and then.

With the ability to see each other frequently suddenly in place, our long-distance communication dropped down to frequent texts, the rest mostly forgotten. I wanted her to focus on studying and she wanted to focus on studying and that worked. We had a couple months of nearly-every-weekend dates and one night at my place for about every two dates. Figure out that math problem if you are bored by the fact that I am writing at the speed of Half Life 3’s development. it was my turn to be the one in South America. I flew down there for another month-long thing, though again it seemed like I’d be perfectly capable of doing it without traveling at all. “the world is flat guyz”.

We went back to some Skype and chatting and finally Facebook as she entered the 21st century like a normal human. The day we confirmed our relationship status, and I finally added a name to mine, on Facebook felt special. Though really not nearly as momentus as I thought it might have been -- I guess digital confirmation of something so physically real ends up meaning nothing.

At the office life was the same for the most part until DRAMATIC TURN.

Lily’s dad had a heart attack. He was a pretty highstrung dickhole, which we’ve all come to learn. Not really the biggest shocker in the world, it was more a shock that his clogged-ass arteries made it as far as they did. It seemed like he’d be fine (it happened at home, as much as I’d like to write about him dropping in front of my desk) but then like the way most things go he wasn’t fine. He was dead in a couple days.

My ding-dong the witch is dead party felt poorly timed so I threw it just for myself. I mean...he was okay. No one deserves to be dead, at least at a relatively young age. I called Lily about when she’d arrive for the funeral, which was being held down there since I guess his family either hated him as much as me or carting his fat ass to America was too expensive. She was actually hesitant, saying she had told her mom she might not make it. I tried to convince her otherwise - dad’s funeral, dude. You kind of have to go to that. Even I intended to attend my own dad’s.

It was my first time seeing Lily’s mother and sister in a very long time. I figured they knew and/or suspected things between myself and Lily, and when I arrived Lily actually held my hand in front of them. So whether or not they had an idea before they certainly did now. I tried not to look as uncomfortable as I felt, gave them my condolences, ran far away.

Her mother accepted my words coldly. Lily’s sister actually glared at me, pants-shittingly terrifying with her black dress and ice queen face. No hissed words though or things to obsess over.

So, of course, it came later at dinner with Lily (who abandoned her family in favor of me, which I argued against...but). She said that they were convinced we’d been together for a very long time and they thought my appearance in the office had pushed him past the edge.

They thought I killed him.


Definitely made me think. He seemed really calm with me and hadn’t brought it up at all, why the hell... Would they think that? Maybe he fell into his own Rube Goldberg machine he’d create to kill me and it’d destroyed its maker. Maybe something slightly more convoluted. Did I kill a guy?


So that makes me feel no good. I went back to the home office almost immediately while another manager took over. Yeah, good job, OP.

Time carried on.

And now we hit the home stretch of our tale.

Lily and I met for dinner, as usual, near-ish to my home in order to allow for potential post-dinner hijinks. Exciting for me, exciting for you, exciting for everyone! Lily seemed somewhat more subdued during the meal, not talking too much, mentioning classes and grades and a few friends. While freshman year usually isn’t where you get to do too much studying within your field of interest, she did have one psych class that really interested her, but even this wasn’t getting a normal amount of conversation out of her.

Eh, maybe a bad day. I didn’t want to push it and irritate her, so I tried to let it go. Obviously asking what was wrong was burning in my head, but I waited until we had finished eating. Or maybe I waited one second because I was concerned and impatient.

“What’s wrong?”


Of course. I prodded but got nowhere. I asked if she wanted to go to mine, and she said yeah, but she wanted to talk and sleep, she just wasn’t in the mood. Disappoint OP was disappoint but understood that sex is not a given every time.

Still, though.


The brick wall I was heading towards was not yet on my radar but maybe it should have been. We went to my apartment after a brief, quiet drive, listening to old M83 because I am a faggot as I’ve said thirty plus times throughout this story.

Once we were seated on my couch we spooned as comfortably as possible. Or rather I started to initiate that before she shrunk away. We sat across from each other.

Now my spidey-sense was tingling, far later than it should have been.

A story started tumbling out. This is what I had not planned on sharing and yet here I am sharing it anyway.

She hated her dad. He was a pig. I said I did not like mine either, he was basically a wall that sometimes would spit money at me but usually make me look for a door.

And out it came. Maybe this was totally expected from what everyone has been saying, maybe not. I don’t know. I did not expect it at all.

Lily's dad had molested her. Just writing it makes me want to die, perhaps just so when I go to Hell I can kill him again. It had happened over the course of four or five years, from when she was 9 onwards. And yeah, immediately I realized the crossover between these two sordid stories.

I'd been part of this.

So many little things made sense now, so, so many, from throughout the entire history of our relationship. Him calling her a slut, her not wanting me to touch her...and tons of other small details, right down to the fact that she had shaved her barely-there pubic hair.

Her dad.

I had no idea what to say. Even now, a couple years later, I don't know what I could have said. I backed away from her slightly, not wanting to force my touch on her, suddenly regretting the attempted spooning from earlier.

And I regretted trying to give her oral. And touching her to try and get her 'excited'. And...taking her virginity. Fucking her when she was 13. Trying to when she was 12.

It all fell into stark contrast. I wondered what she walked back home to when we had finished when she was 13. What had it been like?

It felt like the world was collapsing.

"Lily. I'm...sorry."

That's what I settled on. She was crying, ugly crying, huge gulping sobs and I was following suit though not quite as broken-heartedly.

"You're the first person I've told. The first...person."

I had to move forward, I did, I took her hand. "Lily."

She let me hold her hand and didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry." I said it again, feeling stupid, not knowing what else to say. Then we sat in complete silence. Who knows how long. I didn't want to kiss her or hug her or do anything remotely physically romantic. I was terrified. I do not know how to deal with things like this and at that point it was much the same. I could just hold her hand and be there for her.

"I still love you."

Maybe it was thirty minutes, maybe ten hours, maybe ten seconds. But I said it. She did not respond, but she stood up and let her hand pull away from mine.

Lily walked out the door of my apartment.

I was left in horrified silence.

There were no words. There are no words for that moment. No face to post, no adjectives to describe. My world had been torn away from me and I was seeing it cast in a stark light that changed everything.

Fuck you guys. Fuck.

I drank until I couldn't drink any more that night. I drank through the next day. Didn't bother trying to call in to work to tell them, just decided to say fuck it.

I drafted up a hundred texts to her and sent none of them. I wrote a long email and deleted it. I...did nothing.

Finally we were on Facebook at the same time. She messaged me first.

"I'm sorry."

I told her she had nothing to be sorry about, absolutely nothing. I should be apologizing, forever, for everything. I asked if...what I'd

"I wanted to have someone else who wasn't him. You were that person. I...picked you."

Oh god. What about the little story about her being ten and loving me? About our loving conquering time and space? Age not mattering? The little things we'd said and shared and everything, how much was even real, how much was a girl trying to escape a horrible situation? I had no idea.

I was shattered even further.

She picked me. Did she want to have someone to love? Someone to give her virginity to? Did she ever care about me at all, or did she just want solace?

And then the worse thoughts... Was I meant to be solace and I turned it into sex? Was I just her second abuser, convincing her all men were sex-obsessed monsters?

Was I. The same. As him?

Could I ask her those questions, could I really? I doubted it very strongly. But I wondered, oh god I wondered and I tortured myself, finally telling work I needed all my vacation days ASAP, pulling away from my social life, looking inward and seeing myself as a dark, horrid monster.

But she was 18? We loved each other? I had plans for her 19th birthday, gifts and trips and all sorts of things. What had happened to us?

It took another day before I started to wonder - was it over?

We hadn't talked in what felt like an eterniy. I was at the end of my rope emotionally. Something inside me had been broken by this entire saga and maybe I had once thought it'd all be fine...but deep down I had to have known it would all come crumbling down. Now that it had, I had nothing and no one.

No one.

And who did Lily have? I thought she had me, she still could, but where was she? Was I meant to reach out? I tried again.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Lily. I didn't want to..."

It sounded so stupid.

"What can I do for you? Please. Let me."

"I need space, OP. We can talk later. We will, I promise."

So I gave her what she wanted. I let her be. I waited. I got a horrible reputation at work, not that I cared, and I started drinking more than I have before in my life. It took away some of the pain, turned it into numbness.

What had I done?

We are almost to the end, my friends. I guess it needs to be completed in a new thread. I will type, you create.

I do not know how much time passed. It was the end of the semester, Lily had turned 19 and I had done nothing for her, let tickets go unused.

My personal email bing-bonged which was abnormal. It was from Lily.

“Hey. Thanks for letting me talk to you. I’m sorry but I thought I needed to tell you about it and I know things can’t be the same now. I’m not sure how to move forward but we’ll both figure it out. I don’t regret it but I wish things between us had been different. I care about you. Lily.”

She cared about me. No love, no regrets though a wish things had been different. I read between the lines as much as I could but no further meaning seemed to be presenting itself. I waited a few days before replying.

I would try to rewrite it here but there’s no reason. It bounced back as an invalid inbox, and after checking her address I tried again and got the same error. After months without Facebook I logged on, seeing I was back to “in a relationship” with no person attached. Her profile was gone.

Her Skype was offline. She may have received my worried “Hey, are you okay?” texts but she did not reply. All our normal routes of contact were broken off. I called her school, obviously they can’t reveal information like that to some random guy.

The sinking feeling turned into a sense of falling. So much of who I was had been defined by Lily, and without her I hardly knew what kind of a person I was without her by my side. She was gone. Lily was gone. I kept remembering it, kept drinking to try and dull the painful edges of the idea. I moved on to light drug usage, mostly Xanax. I just...wanted it to be over.

Some small, stupid part of me believed she’d come back to me. That was the part of me that started writing this story, the part that thought what we had was love. My fake ending nixed this part, just had us dating long-distance and having slightly difficult communication, I thought it’d make me feel good to write up a beautiful reunion.

Real life is not a romantic movie or story and at some point I figured that out. Maybe after I decided to start doing my job from afar, maybe after I left my apartment for a hotel. I searched for Lily’s name online every now and then in the first couple of months before realizing that was what her ‘abuser’ would do. I started to see myself like that. She wanted safety and I took advantage of it. Or had I? Sometimes I tried to believe in love. Was it ever love? Having never experienced it before Lily, I had nothing to compare it to. I could only wonder.

Everything...everything in this story takes on such a dark, ugly light with this revelation. I am disgusted by myself and what I’ve done and I do not think it was right.


It was all for her. My everything was for her. And I’d ended up hurting her. And I’d even managed to fuck it up in my final moments with her when she left my apartment.

I relived those moments between pills and liquor. The self-flagellation was awful, I did everything I could to hurt myself, try to feel the pain I knew she had to be feeling, try to make myself pay.

Nothing would bring her back. What good was I without her?

Let’s move to present tense.

We’ve never communicated in any way since that day. I’ve tried a couple times but never got anywhere. She does not want to talk to me and I am reading into that exactly as far as I think I should. She had one abuser, tried to find a friend, and got a second abuser -- one who went far, far further.

Lily is still out there somewhere. I have adjusted details about her to make finding her difficult, and as far as I know she keeps an extremely low profile online anyway. In writing this story I do not want to publicize her pain. She has gone through some horrible things. I contributed to them.

I do not deserve her and never did, I only ever convinced myself I did. But I don’t.

I took advantage of a hurting child. Or did I? Who knows how this will be taken, but I believe I did.

Lily will always be in my heart. I will never, ever find something like what we had. And the thought that what I thought was perfect love was something else from the start... I’ll never find that sort of happiness again, and deep down it was never even shared happiness. That is what it comes down to for me.

I am grateful for those who are sharing this story with me. This is my final tribute to Lily. She is a perfect woman, my perfect woman, and she deserves happiness and people far better than the men she has had in her life. Lily, if somehow you ever see this, I never stopped loving you.

Typing this through a haze of chemicals has been difficult, but we are now done. My email has been closed. My responsibilities will run smoothly for the next few days. This is my last post on 4chan. Goodbye.


OP meets some girl's little sister, and becomes moralfag when he turns 18 and breaks up with the now 14-year-old Lily (after fucking her twice) and then comes back because...?

Then Lily's dad dies and she says that he molested her and OP goes into faggot-overdrive and tells her he 'still loves her' and as a result they break up permanently and now he says he will an hero.


Despite its popularity on 4chan, The Liliad has been almost completely erased from the internet due to the ragequit of its archivists.

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