The main street was always busy on a Saturday. Cars and people going in what seemed like every direction around the small, dark-skinned girl who walked placidly along the road, stopping at each store to window-shop for a bit.
In front of one of the newer boutiques, an antique shop just off the main road, she stopped, a strange feeling drawing her in the door. The place was cluttered, piles of stuff covering the walls and floors. The proprietor was a skinny, elderly man, balding with small eyes, but he was energetic, and seemed more than glad to help as he bounced up to the pretty girl.
“Welcome! Welcome! I’m Roger, and this is the Ancient Mysteries Antique Shop. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“My name’s Maria,” she replied. “But I don’t know. Something just told me to come in here and look around.”
She wandered off, slowly, looking at everything that was displayed, sometimes having to move pieces of furniture and lamps and boxes of jewelry to see. After a good thirty minutes of looking, she had covered maybe a quarter of the small shop, and pushed aside an old hand-mirror and a faded painting to reveal a small porcelain doll.
It was shaped and dressed like a gentleman, with fine, glossy black hair and blue eyes made of crystal. The suit it wore was old-fashioned, 18th century America, she guessed as she lifted it, and the warm feeling returned, stronger than ever.
She turned, sharply, staring wide-eyed at the owner, who smiled benignly. “How much is this?” she asked in her child-like voice, hearing it seem to echo in the sudden silence.
The man gestured her to the counter, gave her a price, and she paid it gladly, though it was a good deal more than she had meant to spend.
Once home, she set the strange doll up on the mantle, a place of honor, she thought, for her great purchase, and went to take a shower. She turned on the hot water to let in run and stripped off her tight shirt, letting her skirt fall around her ankles. She paused to admire her body in the full length mirror attached to the door. Her skin was almost chocolate brown, her hair dark, streaked with red from a recent dying session with her friends. Green eyes blazed like fire down her frame to softly hanging breasts, her toned belly and pink shaven cunt. Her butt and legs were lean and strong from all the time she’d spent as a young girl running and climbing.
The steam was beginning to fog up the mirror before he tore herself away and stood in the hot stream, letting the rivulets run over the curves of her flesh, running the soap over her skin to create a thick lather. As her hands ran lower on her body, she felt that warm sensation again, this time concentrated in her loins. As she ran the soap between her legs, she felt a surge of pleasure that almost knocked her off her feet, and she sank to her knees, dropping the soap in preference to her soap-slick fingers. She swirled them around inside her tiny heat, pushing them into her tight hole, like a vise from her long, involuntary chastity. She pressed her other hand down, spreading her heat for easier access, letting her other hand work over the pink, sensitive flesh, her thumb pressing and rolling her clit around as she worked. Her head rolled back against the wall of the shower, the sensations crashing over her unlike any other time in the months before, causing the world to shake, and her vision to blur and almost black out as her first orgasm slammed into her like being hit in the face.
