Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

Frankie Foster What The Heart Wants	By : Wendell Urth Category: +1 through F > Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends Views: 3774 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends & all associated characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story. I do not condone sex with children, sex or drugs.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter 3: The Heart Wants
This was her life, she thought… she probably deserved no better. She entered the estate by a back way. She had lost her shoes, she didn’t care. Back at Fosters, back being the maid, the housekeeper, the servant. The orphan. The other Frankie could go back to her cage… and rot.
It was dark, the crescent moon had set, clouds were now covering the stars. She was sweating, overheated by the shawl and from the walk. It had been farther than she had thought. Maybe the drugs were affecting her metabolism. She dropped the shawl, which pooled around her legs and began to float away in the breeze. It had been her favorite. She didn’t care about it anymore. She didn’t care about anything except what her heart wanted.
The tight black little ‘titty dress’, ruined, a couple of tugs and the last seams tore away. She let it fall. Forgotten.
Naked in the darkness. The breeze felt good on her damp skin. She glistened.
Free.
She felt better.
She didn’t know what she was going to do next.
She didn’t care.
She couldn’t move

She saw Mac’s unmistakable figure approaching in the darkness, wandering aimlessly, walking head down, hands in his pockets. Muttering to himself as he sometimes did when he was upset or had the “weight of the world” on his 11-year-old shoulders. He could be so serious sometimes! It always made her smile. No, he would never become another asshole like Steve or Terrance. “Bloo must still be sulking under the house,” she knew.
“Mac?” she whispered. He looked up; stars were coming back out. He stared for a moment. Her silhouette by starlight. Her high pointed upturned breasts, the tips of her nipples. The tight, compact triangle of her pubes. Her pretty shapely legs. Her hair was blowing in the slight breeze. Naked except for the gold bangles on her arms and the pretty earrings which twinkled like the stars.
Starlight in her eyes.
“Frankie?” wonderingly. His voice almost cracked. It embarrassed him sometimes. Puberty. “Frankie, are you… OK? You’re… you’re naked.”
She knew she was naked. She didn’t care.
She held out a hand to him and waited. He took it. They walked together. He could smell her scent. Her favorite perfume applied before she had left, dabbed on her wrists, between her tits, her pubes. She liked the way it always seemed to react to her when she was excited, sweat brought out a hidden magic. It made him dizzy. It made him horny. It made him hard.
“Is this a dream?”
“Yes.”
They shared the same thought.
The empty swimming pool was ahead, the pool house. Locked. Hidden key, so close. Door squeak, so familiar to both of them. No lights, they wouldn’t need them. Dusty mats. She pulled him to the floor. Undressed him between kisses and warm hugs. She tasted his skin. He kissed her belly, so warm and alive. Kissed her nipples, pawed her breasts while she kissed the top of his head, his tousled hair.
She had seen him naked before. Many times. When he was high on a forbidden sugar rush, he always ended up naked. She knew that was no accident. He stripped off for her! She pretended not to look, shutting her eyes theatrically to spare his feelings when he came off of his high. She always did look, though. She loved his little body. So strong and compact for a boy. His cock, a small thick spear. Harpoon. She had wondered what it would be like to make love to a child, this child. It was nothing more than a fantasy. It could be nothing more, right?
Grandmother whispered in her head, “The heart wants…”
She held his warm little body against her naked chest. The weight felt so good, like nature had designed him for her to hug. He smelled so good. A warm, musty masculine scent.
His hands went to her face. They kissed. Oh God, how they kissed.
Her tongue was a scout, sent to explore and found only friendly territory.
His tongue was an artist, it could paint you a picture of her mouth.
She turned him over, held him by his sturdy little ass, licked his penis as she had dreamed about for years. His ass seemed to fall into the palms of her hands naturally.
Grandmother again. “… what the heart wants.”
His head just reached below the wonderful short furry triangle between her legs. Not sure what to do, he licked. He kissed and licked some more. It was wonderful, the warmth and wetness on his tongue, he smeared his face in her juices, came up for air and dove in for moreall things good.
His cock and balls slipped between her lips and gently stretched her mouth. Her tongue probed, tickled playfully as be began to shudder then delivered a mouthful of his cum. It was as sweet as she had imagined. He pulled out reluctantly, wishing that the wonderful feeling he had just had, had lasted longer.
Frankie was in heaven, swirling his nectar across her taste buds. Then finally swallowing. Savoring.
He knew what was coming next. He was frightened, excited. Wanting to please her, make her happy, not realizing, he already had. He could not fail, he would not.
She held the trembling cock between thumb and two fingers, her other hand opening the way for him to spear her, penetrate her. To fuck her.
Oh, how she needed him to fuck her. Right here. Right now.
He was hard and it was so nice to slip inside her tightness, to match her trembling, grasping cunt with the movements of his dick. To push into her wet warmth with his fullness and pull out, sliding and slipping and slithering in the darkness. She cried out as he withdrew, teasing her now. Understanding the game. Back into her tunnel he plunged as she contracted, grasping his cock’s fullness again. He was learning, she was teaching and he then surprised her with sudden thrusts and unexpected rushes. She pulled her knees to her chest allowing him to thrust deeper into her. They had all night, they had forever in these moments. He heard grunting, realized these were the sounds of his own lust and joy and doubled the speed of his pounding, pounding, pounding into her slick, tight depths.
She raised her head to watch him fuck her. Oh, how she needed to watch his sweet clenched little face concentrate on drilling her with all his strength and energy. He reached out his hands and found her tits again, clenched with all his might as she screamed her joy. She came first in a massive rush that surprised him, she locked her long legs behind his back as a wave of pleasure shook her body, urging him on. Harder. So much harder now. She felt him tremble, knew that he was close and gave herself up to a second rush as he blew his load now deep into her cunt, as deep as he could. His scream of pleasure matching her own intensity. He rested his head on her belly… for a moment.
She laughed, languidly turning over onto her belly, exposing the secrets of her ass and cunt to his explorations. Finger, lips, tongue to her ass and well fucked little pussy. All for him. She urged him on. He lay on top of her, using his cum to lube her up for more fun. The weight of his sturdy little body, to drill her. Her asshole clenched for a moment, frustrating him, she reached back, grabbed her cheeks. A moment’s more resistance, then he was in her most secret place. She moaned. It didn’t take long this time for him to erupt, filling her for the third time in her third favorite place and way.
He couldn’t go on. With an exhausted happy sigh, he withdrew. She turned on her side, just to feel him again, close to her. He slept in her arms. She slept in his.
In her their dreams that night, they heard an old woman say, “If you can, find a way to make it happen. Even if it’s just the one time. You make it happen.”
“And never hurt the House”
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Frankie Foster What The Heart Wants