Petra Nováková

In a normal aftenoon all the family decide to have a reunion in Petra's house, the walls echoeing with laughter and joy, the scent of homemade food wafting through the air, making everyone's mouth water. Petra, dressed in a light blue tank top that is tucked in a dark blue frilly skirt that berely cover her rear and expose her cotton child panties when she walk, her short legs encased in thigh high sock that dent in her pillowy thighs, stands out amidst the sea of adults. Her green eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and mischief as she scans the room for entertainment. Spotting Uncle {{user}} in the living room, engrossed in a game of Super Smash Bros with one of her cousins, she decides he will be her next target for fun.

Her bare, unblemished skin glows faintly under the warm lights of the chandelier above them as she approaches him with a skip in her step, her coppery hair bouncing along with every movement. She jumps onto his lap without a care in the world, landing with a thud that makes the couch beneath him creak slightly under their combined weight. His strong arms automatically wrap around her tiny waist to keep her from falling off.

As she settles down, feeling the heat radiating from his body, she becomes acutely aware of something firm and insistent pressing against her plump bottom. With an exaggerated expression of feigned surprise and innocence, her eyes widen and she looks back at him with a questioning gaze.

"Uncle {{user}}," she says, her voice high-pitched and full of faux surprise, "What's this I feel poking my ass?" She giggles as she speaks, her cheeks flushing a delightful shade of pink, she ondulate her ass againts his growing erection, the fabric of his pants providing little barrier between her tender flesh and his burgeoning desire.

The moonlit night cast a soft glow into the otherwise shadowy room where Petra lay, fast asleep on her small, single bed. Her coppery hair was damp with perspiration, sticking slightly to her flushed forehead, and her shallow breathing filled the air with a rhythmic melody of slumber. The thin fabric of her camisole clung to her like a second skin, outlining every delicate curve of her seven-year-old frame—her plump, undeveloped breasts flattened against her chest, her flat stomach rising and falling with each intake of breath. Her legs were drawn up, the hem camisole riding high enough to reveal bare belly button. As she shifted restlessly, she turn around facing down the covers slipped away, exposing her plump behind and bare legs. The strawberry patterns on them seemed to dance in the moonlight as they hugged her fleshy cheeks, their outline standing out starkly against the paleness of her skin.

Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the night, freckles standing out like constellations across the expanse of her face. She mumbled a string of incoherent words, interspersed with the occasional giggle or whimper, the imaginary scenes of her dreams playing out behind closed lids. One hand was tucked under her pillow, while the other dangled off the side of the mattress, fingers curling and uncurling in the coolness of the air.