Saturday, 16 May 2015

Saturday, May 16, 2015 -

Little Molly

by Chloe Carpenter
Published: Mar 13, 2015
Words: 33,264
Category: ageplay, romance
Orientation: M/F
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Early one morning in May, Luke jogged along the stretch of golden sand close to the sea shore. He never tired of this part of the bay. The sun shone brightly, gold rays illuminating the sweep of sand and glinting on fossil-filled pools, bringing the promise of a glorious day. It was low tide, and at this hour the beach was deserted save for an old man and his dog, and a few noisy gulls comically bobbing up and down on the eddying waves.

Had any woman been watching, she would have found him a striking figure: tall - 6ft 4 - darkly handsome with the first flecks of silver grey gracing his temples, expressive chocolate-brown eyes with a deeply sensuous glint, and a physique that belied his forty years. His body was taut and muscular, with broad shoulders, powerful arms and steel thighs bronzed by the sun. He upped his pace, breaking into a run, moving effortlessly at speed with the grace of a jaguar. It was a good way to start the day. Invigorating. He loved it.

He ran for half a mile, his running shoes leaving indentations in the wet sand, slowing down slightly as he approached the curve of the bay. There was a little girl up ahead, splashing in the shallows, her dark hair worn in two short pig tails tied with pink ribbon. Her white shorts were stained with sand and sea water, and she wore a pink top the same shade as her hair ribbons. She appeared to be digging in the wet sand with a bright yellow spade, a matching yellow plastic bucket by her side.

Molly was having a wonderful time, even though the sea water was so cold it made her teeth chatter. She was digging for pretty shells, and had filled half her bucket with them. She added another cockle shell to her collection and shivered again. Turning round, she reached for her sweater - but it wasn't there, and neither were her sandals. Frowning, she got to her feet, looking to the left and the right, but there was no sign of them anywhere. She shivered again, glanced out to sea, and saw one pink sandal floating on the waves maybe eight metres away.

"Oh crap!" she muttered. They were her very best pair of designer sandals and she didn't want to lose them. Maybe the other one was out there too. She waded into the water, which soon covered her knees, then her thighs, and then reached her waist, little waves sloshing at her belly. Gasping with cold as the icy water bit into her bones, she struggled onwards, but it seemed the further she waded out, the further away the sandal became.

Molly could barely swim but she was determined to get that sandal. Submerging herself up to her chin, she launched forward in a parody of a dog paddle, sending sprays of water high into the air, most of which returned to land on her face.