It had been several weeks since Melanie (Little Mel), and her 5-year-old son, Bobby, had left an abusive husband. They had sought refuge with me in my home. I, of course, agreed to let them stay in my spare room.
It was so depressing to see a cute little girl like Mel hurting both physically and mentally. In addition to her face, Mel's husband, Rob, had badly damaged her self-esteem. She told me Rob had repeatedly said to her, "No other man would want a titless little bitch like you!"
Her black eye, bruised cheek, and swollen lip healed quickly. Mel was soon back to looking like the cute, 4'11", 85 pound, red-haired, little sweetheart I remembered meeting not long ago.
Her self-esteem took a bit more time and TLC to recover. I frequently reminded Mel how pretty, cute, sweet, and desirable she was. She always giggled when I'd tell her she looked good enough to eat. Occasionally, without warning or reason, I'd take her in my arms and give her an extended her.
Gradually, Melanie began to show a much happier side of her self. She would greet me as I came in from work by running to me, leaping into the air, and wrapping her arms around my neck. Her feet, dangling nearly a foot off the floor, would be swinging in the air, as she passionately kissed me.
When I thought she felt safe and comfortable with me, I began gently teasing her about her size. I'd tell her she reminded me of a cute, little, 14-year-old, high school girl. I'd then give her a gentle swat on her round, denim covered, ass. She always wore jeans that snugly hugged her hips.
Bobby, in the mean time, had settled in nicely. When he wasn't running through the house, he was in the back yard wearing out Dog, my 1-year-old, male, German Shepard. In the past few weeks, Bobby and Dog had bonded to each other. They were nearly inseparable, except when Mel made Bobby come inside to eat or prepare for bed. I guess Dog enjoyed romping with an active 5-year-old more than chasing the sticks I'd throw for him.
After a while, Mel and I decided to let Dog in at night. He would go to bed when Bobby did and sleep on the floor next to his new friend. It looked like I had lost my dog to Bobby.
It was also looking like I had acquired an instant family.
One Friday evening, I had called to let Mel know I'd be working late. It was well past Bobby's bedtime when I got home, and the house was quiet when I came in.
Instead of running to me and jumping into my arms as she usually did, Little Mel called out to me from the bathroom. She told me, "Make yourself a drink and relax on the couch. I'll be out in a few minutes."
"OK!" I called back. It had been a long, hard, day, and I could use a tall, cold, CC & Coke and a few minutes to unwind.
I had downed about half my drink when Mel came into the living room. I nearly choked on my drink when I saw her.
Little Mel didn't just walk in. She came somersaulting into the living room wearing a cheerleader's outfit. Just a couple of feet in front of me, she bounced up to her feet, and held her hands tightly to her sides. Grinning from ear to ear, Mel said, "We'll win tonight!"
I told this little doll standing in front of me, "Turn around slowly so I can admire my little cheerleader."
Little Mel practically beamed as she rotated in front of me. She had her red hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her knit top was royal blue with a gold "P" on her chest. Mel seldom wore a bra. She didn't need one, and she hadn't worn one that night. Her nipples, however, were making noticeable bumps on either side of the "P". The extra short skirt was also royal blue with gold trim around the waist and hem. From my vantage point on the couch, I could see a pair of gold panties under her little skirt. She wore gold socks that had a blue "P" on the outside of each ankle and white deck shoes.
I was grinning like a high school quarterback who had just thrown the game winning touchdown pass. Although I knew she was twenty-two years old, given her small size, and nearly flat chest, Melanie looked just like a 14-year-old high school cheerleader. I finished my drink and told her, "Little girl, you look good enough to eat."
"Oh, I sure hope so." She seductively replied. "I'll bet you didn't know I used to be a cheerleader. Did you?"
"Well, hurray for our side! Let the games begin." I said, as I reached out to take her hands.
Mel said, "Not yet! This is going to be our Friday night date. The ball game is over, and we're going to the dance. When the dance is over, you might get lucky."
She had already stacked up several of my old classic rock and roll LPs on the player. While she started the music, I made us a drink.
We danced to tunes from the 50s and 60s. Like a typical high school boy, I copped a feel at every opportunity. Though Mel had tits like fried eggs, her nipples were fantastic and were soon trying to drill holes in her knit top. My caresses and gentle pinching had brought them to life. Little Mel emitted cooing sounds each time I squeezed her ass and pulled her tightly to me.
Mel, in the mean time, had been stroking the cock growing in my pants. She cooed and groaned each time I nibbled her neck and pinched a nipple. I'm sure our dance floor antics would have caused the principle to throw us out of any high school dance.
