Not guilty, Your Honor

by SheilaMoist4U

This story came to me after a little girl flirted with me. I mean it. Flirted. I thought it was time to lay the canard that lesbians are predators, just waiting to pounce on innocent girls.

I really don't know where to start. Maybe I shouldn't be writing this at all. But I have got to tell somebody or I will go crazy. OK. Here goes. I am ready. My name is Bruna Fischer and I am a lesbian. What a dumb name. My mother was Brazilian and my father was German. And being a lesbian - what a dumb thing to be. It's like you can never be regarded by other people as "normal".

So, I have a dumb name and I am a dyke, is that enough to drive a person crazy? No. Oh yes, you want to know what I look like, don't you? To hell with that. I am short, plump, darkhair, brown-eyes, a big ass and big bazooms, and a hairy cunt you could lose a battleship in. Pushing forty, checking for grey hairs and wondering what the hell you can do about cellulite.

Enough. They bring me dinner in a few minutes, so I will finish this later.

Lousy food, but you don't expect cordon bleu in a Women's Correction Facility. Makes me laugh, locking a lesbian in an all-women's prison. Like, is this their way of curing me? LOL There's plenty of pussy in here if you're hungry, not just the other inmates but the screws as well, most of them looking for a fuck with a bit of SM thrown in. Me, I am not really interested: my heart and my mind are locked in the past, locked onto my little angel Rachael, bless her, she loved me back, and now they've locked me up for loving her.

You want to know something even crazier? She loved my cock. Yeah, you heard right. She loved to... Well, let me go back a bit, so you'll know how this all pans out. A couple of years back, I was involved with a wild bitch called Betty S, you know, one of those daffy fem types who can't get a wet pussy without having something kinky thrown at them. In her case, it was being assfucked with a strapon dildo. I never did that shit - why should I pretend to be a guy? - but I was crazy about her, so I went along with it. As a matter of fact, I kind of got into that stuff. Believe me, there's more to a girlcock than tightening the straps and going wham wham. It takes a lot of skill and patience, a lot of practice and a good sense of rhythm. And if you're going in for anal, a lot of lube too. Not that lube was a problem, because my little bitch Betty could leak enough cuntjuice to raise the Titanic, and all I had to do was diddle her cunt for a while and my cock would slide into her "petit trou d'amour" (as my French teacher Suzanne Brielle used to say, and what a dyke she was. She... but that's another story for another day).

And then, as usual with me it seems with my lousy luck, LBD - Lesbian Bed Death to you - set in and we split up, Betty and me, leaving me with a broken heart, a sore back and a strapon dildo that I had no use for. I stayed out of the scene for about a year, mostly going to work, getting home, downing some microwave crap and a few tequilas and watching a movie with my fingers where fingers were designed to be. I became the most proficient fingersmith since Joan of Arc stuffed her fist into herself and said "Burn me, I want to feel the heat" (Hey, I made that up, but not the bit about me tickling the taco every night).

And then, one night, the woman from the apartment downstairs knocks on my door. This bitch is a hooker, except she doesn't charge, know what I mean? She does drugs or something because she never seems to be with you, goes out all nights, sometimes stays away for several, good-time girl, available to any guy with a hard-on and a few bucks in his pocket to feed her habit. I am not judging her, the slut, but what really pissed me off was the fact that she had an eight-year-old daughter, a sweet kid called Rachael, who melted my heart every time she smiled at me on the stairs, and that excuse for a mother of hers used to leave her with some Mexican kid. Babysitter, my ass! Anyway, it was none of my business, but I always tried to be nice to little Rach whenever out paths crossed, kind of letting her know that not all grownups are assholes.

Anyway, it seems that The Slut has lost her Mexican childminder and would I keep an eye on Rachael, and she'll pay me and be ever so grateful, etc, and then teeters off in her fuck-me dress and her fuck-me shoes and leaves me with the key to her apartment. And before I could get up the stairs, there was another knock on my door, and there stood Rachael, pretty as a picture, her eyes begging me to invite her in.

And that, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is how it all started. In fact, I never did visit the apartment because, from that time on, Rachael always came to me. Hell, she moved in. We hardly ever saw Mother Slut, and I soon got used to having a surrogate daughter, one that I grew to love. I mean REAL love. We did all kinds of things together: shopping, watching tv. walking in the park, swimming, playing tabletop games, surfing the net together. It was just great.

Lights out soon. Don't know whether I will even finish this. I feel so fucking ANGRY. I know what you're thinking: OK, Bruna Fischer, you're a dyke, a predatory woman, you seduced the kid, didn't you, you disgusting piece of filth? Well, no, not that I expect you to believe me. Of course I was aware of Rachael's physicality. She was a very pretty girl, dark haired like me but with blue eyes - a killer combination -and a delicious butt and skin like peaches and, don't ask me how I know this, the prettiest little kitty you ever saw, just a pink slit between puffy lips. Well, of course I saw it! We took showers together, we changed in front of each other, she often crept into my bed in the early hours. And I was, I admit, roused sometimes by the warmth of her body against mine, by the way she snuzzled into my breasts. What? Oh, snuzzled! That's a word I invented, a cross between nuzzling and snuggling. Cool, huh? Yes, I was VERY aware of her, and yes, we caressed and kissed and cuddled, but, Your Fucking Po-faced Honor, I never touched her in a sexual way. Did I want to? Yes, I did. Did I do it? No, I didn't, not that you assholes in the jury with your withered genitals and your clenched buttocks and your righteous frigidity are going to believe me.

No, I did not. That is, not until Rachael came across that stupid girlcock strapon dildo in a drawer in my bedroom. I had forgotten about it. Why the hell had I kept it. When Betty left, taking her petit trou d'amour with her, I had no use for it. But Rachael found it and Rachael was curious and Rachael asked me what it was and it looked like a man's thingy didn't it and what the straps for show me please Bruna...... So, what do you do? She wants to know. So, I strip off and strap up, feeling more than a little stupid. A woman wearing a strapon in a porn movie may look sexy, but the reality is a little different.

And now comes the conversation. More questions. Oh, it's like if a woman wants to be like a man she can wear this thing? Yes, Rachael.

But why would a woman want to be like a man? Let's go and watch TV, hun. But, Bruna, I want to know! And so I try to explain as gently as I can to an eight-year old that there are some women who love women and sometimes one of the women wants the other woman to have a cock (she might as well learn the word, I thought) so that the one with the cock can fuck her the way a man would. What's fuck, Bruna? Oh god, this is going to be difficult!

But it wasn't. It really wasn't. It was easy. Very very very easy.

Rachael understood in no time what I was talking about, smiled and giggled and asked a lot more questions. How? Why? Is it nice? Have you done that? Did you fuck someone with your cock thing? And it took very little to move from the general to the particular.

"Bruna, do you love me?"

"Of course, sweetie. You know I do."

"But I mean, that way. You know, the way you loved Betty."

"Sweetheart, you are my baby, you know that. You are very special."

"I know, but I mean, will you fuck me, please?"

You get a question like that from a pretty eight-year old fixing you with those pleading liquid brown eyes, and what are you going to say? "We'll see, sugar pie. We'll see. Now, come on, let me take this silly girlcock off and let's go watch TV."

"But I like your girlcock, Bruna! I think it's really cool! You could use that on me if you wanted to. I wouldn't mind, really I wouldn't!"

Very soon, the girlcock became just my cock. It was surreal, and now, as I write this, I can scarcely believe that I allowed an eight-year old to talk me into full-on sex with her. I will spare you - and myself - the details of how, over the next week or so, we became more intimate with each other, exploring, probing, fingering, licking, kissing. It was wonderful. It was like a kind of love that I had never known before. Go on, you po-faced bastards, tell me I am a monster, she was only eight, how could she REALLY know what she wanted. Well, you had to be there - but I am fucking glad you weren't - Rachael knew exactly what she wanted, and I followed her lead. As God is my witness, SHE seduced ME, but I don't expect you dirty-minded jurists to believe me. And every time we made love (Please note, we made love, we didn't just have sex), she would BEG me to put on the strappy and let her know what it was like to have a cock inside her little kitty.

No, I couldn't do that. Could I? Looking back, I guess it was inevitable, and, if I am honest, I was really intrigued by the whole idea of deflowering her (I hate that expression busting her cherry. That's what brutal men do, not us.) But still I protested.

"Well, just put it on, Bruna. For me. Pretty please! Just wear it. I think you look real cool with a cock sticking out from your crotch!"

So real cool Bruna Fischer, Braziian-German dyke an idiot, straps up and we sit on the sofa. And sweet little Rachael grabs my cock and starts to play with it, giggling with delight.

"Ooh, it's big, Bruna! You have a real big cock!"

Gales of laughter. I can't help smiling, she is just such a cutie. She knows about eating pussy, having become an expert at lapping at my generous cunt and lapping at me like she was dying of thirst. And now she applies the knowledge to my cock, going down on it and wetting it with her saliva before I know what is happening. I am sorry for those perverts amongst you who want me to say I forced her innocent little mouth down on to my cock and forced her to suck it. Because it wasn't that way at all. Not at all. Mind you, I got very worked up watching her pretty head bobbing up and down on my cock as she worked away at it enthusiastically.

"Enough, sweetie," I whispered, pulling her up to me. "It's only plastic, my love."

"I know, Bruna, but it's YOUR cock and I wanted you to know how much I love it."

We cuddled and she planted a big wet girly kiss on my mouth.

"And I wanted to make it wet before you fuck me."

My little Rachael! My sweet innocent little flower! Eight years old, going on eighteen. I wondered whether she had picked up any of this stuff from her alchoholic slut of a mother, but suppressed the thought. As far as I was concerned, that bitch did not exist anymore. Rachael was MY daughter.

And she climbed onto my lap, straddled my thighs and manuvered, with a LOT of help from me, until she was in a position to lower herself onto my plastic love-muscle, "Bruna's joystick" as she called it, and I, so help me, I guided it so that the tip of it was poised to penetrate her little kitty. I know in the courtroom, those prurient bastards will want me to describe in minute detail how I deflowered her - smug asshole lawyers in dark suits who will then go home and jerk off reliving the details of how some bitch dyke used a strapon to deflower an innocent child, and respectable women in the jurybox, outraged by what they are hearing, and trying not to admit that their little-used cunts are beginning to tingle at what they are hearing. Yes, I fucked a minor, I fucked my Rachael, I penetrated her virgin pussy, and I was crazy with love and lust for her, and I came in great wonderful waves and she did too, in her way, and we were both happy and it was magnificent and if the world was full of love like this, there would be no more wars, no more nastiness. And this was the moment when The Bitch had to walk in (I will pay dearly for the fact that I had omitted to lock the door to my apartment), saw us both, saw us naked in a tight embrace, saw Rachael impaled on my cock. And screamed.

The food here isn't as bad as I said earlier. And the screws are ok as long as you don't try to be a smarass. And I have met a couple of women who seem to like me and my plump ass and my big boobs and my wet hairy snatch. And it's not so bad. And my trial comes up next week, or is it next year? I no longer care, because whatever the pofaces and dried-up hypocrites do to me, they will never have what I had: the unconditional love of a beautiful little girl who says she will wait for me. She's in some kind of home too now. What an irony. The two of us had love, happiness, security. And now we are locked up, alone, made to feel guilty and ashamed.

Tell me. Did I miss something? Who makes the rules that can destroy lives in the name of morality? Fuck 'em. And thanks for listening. I think I will go to the Recreation Room, there's just time before lights out. Maybe play a game of checkers. As far as I know, they haven't passed a law against that. Not yet.

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