Little Lolita

I'm an anonymous blogger.

Halloween Treats

To any of you who enjoy my Daily Finger (or miss it since I haven’t updated in ages) I’ve got a few surprises waiting for you! 

Happy Halloween!

Love Lolita ;)

Always Watching

I bought a telescope.

My roommate, who is hardly ever home because of his night shift as a dispatcher, think I’m this huge nerd. My walls are covered in Star Wars posters, and maps for video games, and anime sketches I’ve done in the past. The guy think I’m a complete loser and that I spend my evenings looking at stars.

Every evening I sit on our couch eating my frozen dinner and watching him stumble around the apartment getting dressed and ready for work. I fidget with my hangnails or flip through channels, hardly seeing any of the shows I’m filtering through. I get antsy until he finally shuts the door behind him.

Inconspicuously, I watch my roommate’s car pull out of his spot and exit the apartment gates. Very casually I set up my telescope and shut the blinds, except for the one that the tip of my telescope pokes through. I push our armchair up to the telescope, I deadbolt the door, and I drop my pants.

With my ass firmly planted on the cushion, my boxers around my ankles, I sit with my cock in hand and peer through the lens.

Across the complex, over the roof of the apartment offices, there is apartment 453. From where I’ve set up my telescope there is a direct shot across to 453’s balcony. The blinds are never, ever shut. 453 is on the third floor, there’s no reason she should shut her blinds. From the sidewalks you can’t see up above the second floor’s balcony. Without a telescope it would be nearly impossible to tell what you’re seeing from our balcony, even.

That’s why I saved up four checks to buy this telescope. With this telescope you can see the craters in the moon.

My obsession with 453 started when a piece of her mail got put into our mailbox: 653. The name was Selina Allen, and for some reason I couldn’t get it out of my head, even after I took it to the office.

"Oops," the woman at the front desk had said. "This is 453’s mail. Thanks for bringing it in.”

So that afternoon I took a trip. I found 453’s apartment. I just strolled by, just to know the vicinity. Maybe someday I’d try knocking on that door, just to see what would happen… That was when I realized her balcony faced ours. That night I went out for a smoke and peered across. The distance was too wide. All I could see was that her light was on.

Every night I watched that light. I tried to imagine what she was doing, what she looked like, and did she have a boyfriend? A girlfriend? Was she old, young?

A month later I had my telescope set up.

My roommate only rolled his eyes. He didn’t give a shit what I did. That night when he left for work, though, I scooted the chair up to the window and took in a deep breath. Finally. Finally I would know Selina Allen.

I put my eye up to the telescope lens and was practically transported to her fucking balcony. It was as if I was standing right there, right outside those sliding glass doors, looking in. There were pictures hung on her walls, and candles on the coffee table snuggled in some coffee beans. Selina’s shelves were covered in books and DVDs and her TV was on, though she was curled up with her legs folded under her on her sofa, reading a book.

I got really excited when I could read the title of the book. She was reading Stephen King’s Carrie. This telescope was worth every penny.

In the nights following, I continued to watch Selina for hours. She would exercise, do homework, and walk back and forth from the kitchen with a banana or a bowl of cereal. Sometimes she would paint her toenails and other times she’d be on the phone for an hour and a half. No matter what Selina was doing, I was watching.

One night, I sat down to watch, wondering if she’d be watching New Girl again. It was a Tuesday, and that’s what she normally did. However, when I peered through my telescope that night, instead of being curled up on the couch, Selina walked in from the hallway with just a towel wrapped around her body. Her hair was wet and while she watched a commercial play, Selina tied her wet hair up into a knot on the back of her head.

My cock began to harden. My palms were getting sweaty and I didn’t even realize I was pressing my eye against the telescope so hard that it was leaving an imprint.

As I watched, Selina untucked the towel and let it slide off her body. I sat staring in disbelief, seeing her heavy breasts bounce free, and her slender waist curve into wide, soft hips. Selina’s pussy was shaven and her legs were long, and as I stared she crossed the leaving room, spreading her towel out on the floor, and bent over her DVD player.

From my angle I could see her ass cheeks spread when she bent over, exposing the tight little asshole, and the plump lips of her pussy just below. In a matter of seconds I’d ripped off my pants and boxers and threw them aside. I began to stroke myself, watching her breasts hang down as she put in a DVD.

Selina sat down onto her towel she’d laid out and spread her legs, keeping them bent at the knees. I kept jerking myself when a porno began to play on the screen. Selina fast-forwarded to where two lesbians were in a pool, taking turns eating each other out below the surface of the water. When one would run out of the breath, the other would take her place.

I watched, my forehead sweating and my palm pumping hard, as Selina slid her fingers up and down her pink pussy. She paid special attention to her clit, throwing her head back so that I could see her hardened nipples. Her legs kept moving further apart as she pushed two fingers inside and moved them in and out.

On the screen one of the girls was spreading the other’s pussy lips apart and showing the camera the girl’s tight hole. Still holding her breath, she turned the girl around and spread apart her ass. She stuck a finger into the girl’s asshole and wiggled it in and out until she could put in another.

When I looked back at Selina she was on all fours, with one hand reaching behind her, two fingers shoved up her ass. She was writhing and humping, her face pressed against the floor, trying to keep her eyes on the screen. She was in a tangled up mess with one hand buried in her ass and the other trying to play with her clit.

My cock was super hard, and by the time it was showing close-ups of the girls shoving their tongues into each other’s assholes, Selina had already orgasmed, her legs spread wide, flat on her back. My own hot cum shot out and covered my cock and fingers when Selina pulled her own fingers out of her pussy, glistening wet.

Every single night since I’ve watched Selina Allen fuck herself with a dildo, or her fingers, or sometimes even another guy. She always has porn playing in the background, and I’m always watching.

Anonymous asked: Hi! I love your stories but I'd appreciate it a lot if you tagged things that involve rape, since it can be triggering to some people. Thanks!

This is very true, and I am deeply sorry to anyone that might have been affected. I apologize for my negligence! 

The Haunted House

Trigger warning

In the spirit of Halloween…

Last year one of my best friends from high school insisted I come up for a visit. For the sake of anonymity, we’ll call my friend Jake. Jake lives in New York, NY and has this tiny studio apartment that just happened to be blocks away from a seriously hyped up haunted house.

I’m a huge horror fan and I love to be scared, and Jake knows this, which is why he urged me to give this place a try with him.

"It’s pretty risque," he warned. "Like, there aren’t many boundaries they won’t cross. You have to sign a fucking waiver."

My curiosity was peaked. I agreed to go with him, so on the night of October 19th we headed out with our tickets. There’s a lot of preemptive measures taken to ensure the people can’t be sued, and that the participants are aware of the types of situations they’ll be in. You have to be 18 or older to even enter! Then there’s a long-ass line. On top of signing the waiver, a man tells us we have to go in alone.

For about thirty, or so, minutes Jake and I are in line trying to pass time on our phones. My phone’s battery gives about halfway through so I end up listening to all the groups around me going on about how terrified they are. I don’t blame them… the warehouse where our line is set up at is creepy as fuck, and they have this freaky white noise playing over speakers.

When it’s finally time for me to enter my stomach is twisted up in knots. My palms are sweating as I turn back to wave at Jake, then walk past the plastic flap and into the darkness, with only a bobbing flashlight far up ahead to guide me. I try to keep my arms close to my body, but I can’t help but try to feel the walls on either side of me. The corridor is narrow and suddenly hands are grabbing at me, groping my arms and reaching for my neck.

It feels like eternity before I reach the light. A burly man approaches me and takes a hold of the back of my neck, leading me through to another room. He growls at me to stay quiet and do everything I’m told before he thrusts me into a chair with surprising force.

Immediately my mouth is pried open with gloved fingers. The fingers go inside my mouth and poke and prod and slide around my cheeks before they’re removed and replaced with a face mask. The room is still pretty dark, though there’s a dim, dusty bulb lit far off. I can see the shapes and silhouettes of the three people standing over me, but no details.

Quickly, one of them jerks a bag over my head. I’m pushed from the chair onto the floor on my knees. Instantly I feel a hard stream of cold water poured over my face. The bag is heavy and every time I try to suck in air I suck in the face mask, the bag. I’m gasping and sputtering when someone rips the bag off and shoves me onto all fours.

"Crawl," a man snarls.

I begin to crawl. I crawl forward through another corridor where hands reach out for me, touching me and running over my body. When I get to the end of the hall a man lifts me off the floor and throws me against a wall.

The guy gets as close to my face as he can without touching me. His eyes are rimmed with black makeup, but even in the dim lighting I could see his blue eyes.

"Get on your knees," he says. "Beg."

I dropped down in front of him and began to plead with him. It struck me how incredibly kinky this all was, though I assume for a lot of people it’s probably pretty freaky. In my opinion, it was really just making me horny.

While I begged this man he leaned down and bound my wrists together with a stretchy black band. He did them up tightly and lifted me to my feet, leading me past a wide hallway entrance to a darker corner of the room. It seemed odd. I had assumed we’d go through the hallway, but instead this man lead me to a discreet opening in the wall that led down a flight of concrete stairs. The stairwell was dark and cool, very damp. The man didn’t speak, but breathed heavily as he led me further down.

At the foot of the staircase there were two doors. One with a red EXIT sign over it and the other just a regular door with a bar to open it. He pushed me through that one into a single, square room. Once again it was just barely lit with one dirty bulb emitting a sickish orange glow. There was a table you might find in an operating room cluttered with items I couldn’t make out and a black plastic tarp spread out on the floor.

The man gave me a shove and I stumbled forward, dropping down onto the tarp on my knees. He stood before me and removed my face mask and the binds around my wrists. “Lay down.” He instructed, turning from me and grabbing something from the table.

I remember getting the chills. No other haunted house had ever really gotten to me, but this was just so intricate and realistic! I could see how it would really disturb people as I laid back onto the dirty tarp and waited for further instructions.

"Take off your clothes," the man said with his back to me.

At that point I just got angry. This couldn’t possibly be covered in that waiver? I remember how flustered I was as I looked around. High up in a dark corner of the room was a black camera pointed at the tarp. Obviously someone was monitoring this, which eased my nerves a bit.

The man turned. “Take off your clothes!" He shouted this so that it echoed off the concrete walls. His command sent a shiver down my spine and I quickly obeyed, unbuttoning my jeans and slipping off my button-up shirt.

"Everything," this man said in a low voice when I’d stripped down to my bra and panties.

I gawked at this guy in horror moments before he reached up and pulled a string. The bulb’s light went out, throwing us both in complete darkness. With more ease, I squirmed out of my bra and then my panties and waited…

In the darkness I could only hear the man rustling things around on that metal table. My body erupted in goosebumps from the cold air and my nerves.

I had almost relaxed with I felt something metallic and sharp poking at the soft flesh of my calves. I yelped a little, which prompted the man to poke me a bit harder. He dragged the metal object slowly up my bare leg, in between my thighs. The man forced my legs wide apart with the metal bar.

"Don’t move." He growled.

This place was freakier than I’d expected…

The bar was dragged agonizingly slowly from my thigh to my crotch. At this point I must have been desensitized to what was happening because my breathing was heavy and my heart was pounding, but it all seemed a part of the act. The man lightly glided this poker up and down my pussy, sending delicious shivers up and down my body. I was actually moaning out loud when the man touched the point of his poker to my clit and held it there. Confused, I waited for something to happen… anything.

A light electric current jolted my body. I gasped and clenched my thighs together, which only earned me a shock to my lower stomach.

"I said don’t move! Spread your legs, you filthy cunt.”

This time when I spread my legs I felt his entire body drop down against mine, forcing the breath out of me. He pressed down hard on me and groped my breasts, squeezing him in his hands and then gripping my neck tight, closing off my windpipe.

"Scream for me."

I began to scream through his grasp. It came out airy and muffled, and when I did the man inserted his metal poker into my cunt. My back arched under his weight and despite his hold on my throat I felt deliriously pleasured. The man gave me another shock, deep inside, that made my body convulse underneath him.

The man growled with content and began to slide the poker in and out of me. He released his grasp on my neck, but stayed on top of me. I spread my legs wider and felt him moving the metal bar faster.

I moaned.

Swiftly, the man wrenched the poker out of me and shocked one of my nipples. I cried out, which rewarded me with the poker being inserted gently again.

"You can only scream." He whispered into my ear. His lips were flesh against my ear when he said this, and when I nodded in compliance I felt his tongue go inside my ear and swirl around.

I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could. It was bloodcurdling, high pitched scream. The man chuckled gruffly and removed the poker. For a moment all I could feel was him shifting on top of me, and then his thick, meaty cock was pushed deep into my wet cunt. The man began to thrust and pulse in and out of me, and when I screamed again he touched his metal poker to one of my breasts and rubbed the cold, now-wet metal over my hardening nipples.

The more I screamed the harder he fucked me. I had to keep my legs spread out wide or he would shock me again. I couldn’t moan and whimper or he would shock me. If I wanted him to keep fucking me I had to keep screaming.

"Beg," he huffed, still humping me hard.

I screamed for help as loud as I could until I felt myself climaxing. I felt myself squirting all over his cock and the tarp below us. My body tremored and shook until I fell limp.

The very second I finished the man climbed off of me and forced me to put my clothes back on. “Leave through the exit when you’re done,” he snarled, leaving me in the room alone.

When I left the small room I saw the man disappear into the door we’d come from upstairs. I shakily walked through the exit, out into the drizzling rain on some street in New York.

When Jake and I finally met up again at the lobby of the haunted house he couldn’t stop talking about how crazy it was. “There was so much screaming,” he kept saying. “It was freaking me the fuck out!”

- M

This Time Forever

Spoilers for the first season of American Horror Story ahead.

"Grow a pair, Rambo. She’s not into you… you’re not getting back into her. She’ll never talk to you again.” Hayden says cruelly.

Watching Violet from the shadows, Tate whispers, “I’ll wait - forever if I have to.”

Six years later

Ben sits stoically in his armchair, the same chair he sat in when he was listening to all his patients, including Tate Langdon. Just thinking that boy’s name sends a shiver of displeasure down his spine. His knuckles whiten when he claws at the armrests, listening patiently to his daughter Violet explain her situation.

"He haunts me," the girl says bitterly, looking out of the open window at the sunshine outside. Ever since her overdose, Violet was unable to go outside and feel the sun, or the wind, or inhale the fresh air. She was confined inside that house forever, with just her mother, father, the baby and the maid to keep her company. Of course, always lurking in the darkness were the others. The malicious spirits that sought to harm, and were full of hate from their previous life - including Tate.

It angered Ben that he couldn’t protect his daughter. Only Violet had the ability to make the evil spirits go away, but Tate was always there watching, and begging for Violet’s forgiveness. Ben could see the way it tortured Violet. She still loved him, despite the horrible things he had done.

When Violet wouldn’t say anything more, her father dismissed her. Not wanting to linger, Ben was gone by the time Violet looked away from the window. Instead, Tate was there. He was standing in the corner, his eyes pained and pleading.

"Violet…" he began.

Without waiting for him to finish, Violet was in her bedroom. Being dead, she only had to will herself way. Unfortunately, Tate could emerge from the darkness just the same. And he did. He was always there. Sometimes he just sat quietly, other times he would whisper how much he loved her, would try to touch her… that was the breaking point. That was when Violet screamed at him to leave her alone, and he would be gone.

Today, Tate approached the bed where Violet sat hugging her knees to her chest. Today, he sat on the edge of the bed. “You can’t hide anything from me,” he whispered. “We’re both stuck in the same hell. I know you want me here.”

Violet’s heart pounded in her chest. She hated him almost as much as she loved him, but she also feared him. Tate had done unspeakable things in life and in death. He was a monster, and if it weren’t for Violet, he wouldn’t feel remorse.

"Violet, you make me hate myself." Tate’s eyes clenched shut. "You make me want to hurt myself, or kill myself." Eyes still shut, Tate began to laugh. It was his frantic laughter, something Violet knew all too well. "And isn’t that the irony of hell? You can never escape it…"

Tears welled in her eyes as she watched him clenching his fists, and flexing his jaw. He began to hit himself hysterically. As he slapped his face, Violet recoiled away, crying and shaking her head. He would never leave her alone… he would never go away.

Unable to watch him break down, Violet reached out and grabbed his fists in her hands. Tate’s chest heaved and his eyes were glassy with tears when he looked up at her.

Without warning, Tate forced Violet onto her back and began to kiss her roughly. It was desperate and painful, but Violet didn’t stop him. She could feel the way he needed her in his kisses, and the way he pinned her down by her wrists.

Straddling her, Tate pulled his shirt off and threw it away from them. He buried his face in her hair and sucked on her neck, tasting the skin he had missed for six years. Violet’s lips parted as she exhaled and arched her back. The sight of her body beneath him, fragile and defenseless against him, made an anger and a lust flare up inside. She had made him fight for her for six years, tormented by her presence in this prison of a house.

Tate forced Violet’s shirt up over her head and worked at her jeans while she unclasped her bra. When she wriggled out of the bra and her panties she hastily shoved off his pants. For a long moment the two of them stayed perfectly still, a shaft of sunlight illuminating their naked bodies. Tate perched his body over Violet’s, supporting his weight on his hands on either side of her head. He relished the way her body looked, naked beneath him. Her skin was still as pale and smooth as ever, the curves falling the way they had six years ago, unaged.

Likewise, Violet couldn’t tear her eyes away from the way the muscles in Tate’s arms flexed and tight, the contours of his chest and torso poised over her. His eyes were so intense, staring down at her lips and straying to the rest of her body. It made her feel shy, and giddy, and scared. Tate couldn’t ever kill her permanently, but he could kill her again if he wanted to.

Abruptly, Tate broke their silence by kissing her hard again. He inhaled the scent of her hair and her skin and pushed his tongue into her mouth. The years of pent-up frustration came out in a rush when he thrust his aching cock deep inside of her.

Bracing herself with her hands planted on the headboard, Violet whimpered at the pain. She had only ever had sex once before. Tate had been her first… then he had been sweet, and gentle and kind. Now he was violent, and angry. She wondered if she deserved this as he pounded into her.

Grunting, Tate bit her lower lip hard and drew blood. He knocked the breath out of her with each thrust. Violet’s face was contorted into a pained sort of pleasure that only made his cock harder inside of her.

Tate’s stomach twisted into knots and his groin ached. He needed to cum after waiting for this for so long, but he wanted to make it last. He wanted Violet to suffer, but mostly he wanted her to feel him inside of her, and he wanted her to feel that perfection… that bliss when he fucked her. Tate wanted Violet to crave him forever.

Violet moved her hands to Tate’s back and dug her fingernails into his skin. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist so that she could feel him penetrate her deeper. Closing her eyes and throwing her head back, Violet focused on the feel of his cock inside her tight pussy. He filled her up and made her whole again.

Seeing Violet’s necked bared to him, Tate’s mind flashed with images of blood, violence - the gore of his past life. Squeezing his eyes shut he flipped her over so that she was on top of him.

Obediently, Violet rode Tate rhythmically. She leaned back, letting her long hair fall down her curved spine.

Tate watched her breasts bouncing as she moved up and down on top of him. She was so wet and slippery… so tight and perfect…

The moment Tate began to cum he wanted to look into Violet’s eyes. When he looked up, though, Hayden was standing at the foot of the bed behind Violet, smirking.

Violet came when she felt Tate’s cock stiffen deep inside of her and pulse as he finished in her. She couldn’t catch her breath and felt deliriously happy until she opened her eyes and saw the look of horror on Tate’s face. He was staring behind her…

When she turned to look Violet scrambled off of Tate and grabbed her sheets to cover herself. 

Only Tate could see Hayden laughing at him… Violet was trying to cover herself from the look of rage and disappointment on her father’s face in the doorway.

That night, Violet crept down to the basement and offered herself to Tate again: this time forever.