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Message-ID: <63355asstr$1430518202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Albert Speer <meatbot777@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Little Brown Girl (pedo, cons)
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Date: Fri, 01 May 2015 18:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "LittleBrownGirl.txt" begin>

Title : Little Brown Girl Author : MeatBot Keywords : pedo, cons Written :
20150116
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/MeatBot/

   In the late 70's, a young man meets a pre-teen hooker on the beach in
Bali, Indonesia.

   Disclaimer :

   Copyright by the author.  Permission is granted to archive, repost, or
publish in no-cost or low-cost archives, periodicals, anthologies of this
type of material if unaltered and attributed to the author.  This is a work
of fiction.  The author does not condone any sexual activity among persons
under 16 in real life.

   This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to reality is accidental
and would be damn surprising.  Be warned that this story may involve
explicit descriptions of sexual activities, including some defined under
law as "Weird Shit".  Do not read this story if you believe that fictional
characters should not have fictional sex, or if you are less than the age
of consent in your social or legal group, or if you live under a
repressive, totalitarian regime in an out-of-the-way place such as the USA.
If you like it, I did it.  If you hate it, I didn't.  If it offends you, it
was a misprint.  If you want to sue me, I don't exist.  Sue the internet
instead.  Nobody's twisting your arm.  Leave if you don't like crap like
this.  These are just words, people.  Just words.

   Be warned, this is a goofy, infantile, poorly written, disgusting and
depraved story with bad punctuation, bad grammar, and lots of misspelled
words.  I am not an English major.  Deal with it.  This story is all made
up, except for the true parts.  If you don't like it, read something else.
Don't bitch at me.  You have been warned.

   This story takes place in the late 70's, before political correctness
was invented.  I know some people will take exception to the "Brown" part
of "Little Brown Girl." I am sorry.  That was the 70's.  You just had to be
there.  I mean no disrespect to persons of color, or anyone, for that
matter.  And believe me, I love little brown girls more than anybody.

   This story is graded <TAME> compared to some of the shit I've read in
this newsgroup.

   This story is what happens when you have too much free time at work.





   It was 1979.  I had just stepped off a 747 into Soekarno-Hatta
International Airport, in Jakarta, Indonesia.  For a guy who'd barely been
out of the country before (just to Mexico) it was a hell of an experience.
It was hot, high 80's, and humid, 100 percent probably.  Pure tropics. 
Java is about one degree off the equator, or it felt like it.  We took a
taxi through Jakarta, and the busy madness of the streets just seemed
insane to me.  Foot traffic, millions of bicycles, motorcycles, the
occasional private car, and thousands of trucks, all driving where they
wanted without much attention paid to traffic laws.  On top of that,
driving on the other side of the road.  Crazy, it was crazy.

   My uncle worked for the UN, and he was stationed at an airport about 60
miles outside Jakarta.  We spent about three weeks there, and then made an
almost insane (for foreigners) dash completely across the mainland of Java,
to the island of Bali.  It was beautiful country, tropical, lush and green.
Java is about the size and shape of California, laid on its side.  It took
us two whole days to drive it, and that trip is a whole story in itself.

   I was there with my cousin and aunt, who was of course married to my
aforementioned uncle.  My cousin was a very special friend of mine, and
we'd kind of had a thing going for the last two years, ever since she
started college.  We didn't own each other, and we weren't even girlfriend
and boyfriend, we just fucked occasionally.  A lot, on this trip.  The four
nights we were alone in a hotel room coming and going to Indonesia still
haunt my dreams, for sheer eroticism, and, once again, were a story within
a story.  That's not what this story is about, though.

   Anyway, by the time we made it to Bali, I was a decadent world traveler.
Not really, I was still a shy young tarheel, lost in a strange world.  At
the time we were there, the dollar was strong internationally.  If you
could pay in dollars, everything there was "One Amellican Dollah," because
they couldn't make change.  A bottle of coke.  A disposable razor.  A hotel
room.  A little brown girl on the beach, as I found out.

   Bali was totally different than Java, in many ways.  The poverty and
traffic madness was the same, but the whole mood of the countryside was
different.  Bali is Hindu, where mainland Java is almost completely Muslim.
Surely you get the idea.  Enough said.

   Nudity was no big deal in Bali.  As soon as we took the ferry over, my
eyes bugged out at the site of a half-dozen beautiful women, walking down
the street topless.  It was incredible, for a horny nineteen year old.  I
had a perpetual hard-on, most of the time I was there.  And the women and
girls were beyond beautiful, even the old ladies were statuesque (for
Asians) and beautiful.  My cousin punched my arm until it was sore, for my
almost continual mumbled curse words under my breath, as I spotted the next
nubile naked pair of brown female breasts.  And those plump, dark nipples.
Everywhere, jeezus, give a guy a break.

   The beach was also full of foxy Australian girls, come across the
straights for the topless beaches.  That alone was worth the plane ticket.
Australian girls are everything you'd not expect, given the redneck
reputation of the country at large.  They were beautiful, sweet and looked
incredible just wearing bikini bottoms.  My cousin wasn't interested in me,
when we were with her parents, so after dark I spent a fair amount of time
in the bathroom alone, cooling off.  Possibly this is where I developed
tennis elbow, I don't know.

   Anyway.  We were right outside of Denpasar, the capitol of the island, I
believe.  We were in a brand-new hotel, on the beach, a series of little
separated bungalows.  That night, I left my cousin and her parents, and
bravely walked along the beach by myself.  Locals were everywhere, selling
everything from fruit to soft drinks and cigarettes.  Luckily, I had a
pocket full of one amellican dollahs.

   Night fell, and I found myself a mile or two up the beach.  Luckily,
there wasn't much, and it would have been hard to lose my way.  I turned
back towards the hotel, and was almost there when I heard a small voice.

   "Mistah...  you like nice Indonesian girl tonight?"

   I turned.  A little girl stood beside the boardwalk, looking at me.  I
was stunned.  I'd seen the big girls, right outside the hotel, selling
themselves to the tourists.  Some beautiful big girls.  And, in truth, I'd
thought seriously about it...  just so I could say I did.  And, in spite of
the time with my cousin, I was perpetually horny.

   This girl, though...  something about her touched me.  I was sorry for
her, sorry for her condition, that she had to sell her body like this.  It
made me sad, to see a kid who wasn't allowed to be a kid.  I'm guessing she
was maybe ten years old, if that.  Small, maybe four feet.  And beautiful,
just simply beautiful.  The thing that hurts the worst, after all these
years, is that I never took a picture of her.  These were the days before
cell phones with cameras...  these were the days before cell phones, in
fact.

   Anyway, she was stunningly beautiful, for a child.  She was possibly the
most beautiful child I've ever seen, before, and since.  I felt speechless,
in the face of her beauty.

   I have no idea how much she'd done this before.  I could have been her
first, or hundredth.  She came up on the boardwalk, and stood before me.  I
was, like I said, almost speechless.  The whole experience seemed unreal,
to me, like a dream.

   "I give you nice time," she said, or something like that.  I can't
remember, after all these years.  My mind was racing.  I wanted something
to happen, bad, just so I could spend a few moments in company of something
so staggeringly beautiful.  I wasn't mentally or emotionally prepared to
have sex with a kid, this was long ago, and the things that have made me
what I've become hadn't happened yet.  Well, some of them had...  and of
course, this was one of them...  anyway, I was different, back then. 
Younger, and straighter.  I hadn't yet compromised my integrity, my
morality, whatever...  I still had all those things that us jaded old folks
seem to lack.

   We slowly strolled along the boardwalk, and she chattered to me...  I
finally was able to talk to her like a normal human.  She talked a funny
mix of Indonesian, Balinese and English, and I hate to say it, but I never
figured out for sure, during those four or five days that I saw her, what
her name actually was.  I think it was "Mischa" or "Misshy", I'm not a
hundred percent sure.  I call her Mischa, in my mind.

   We stopped in front of my hotel, and walked down to the water.  I was
afraid to be seen with her, I figured all the other tourists would know
what she was there for.  At this point, I gave her a half-dozen one dollar
bills, just for her time.  Just because I was happy to be with her.  It was
dark, out at the water's edge, I couldn't see her, but I knew she was still
beautiful.

   She asked about America, and I answered her questions as best I could,
as best I understood her.  For some reason I was afraid to question her too
closely about her situation, I didn't want to offend her.  She seemed eager
to talk, though.  She lived with her grandmother, apparently it was just
the two of them.  She actually invited me to her home that first night, but
I was too afraid to leave the beach and the safety of the tourist area.

   I think she still anticipated that I'd eventually want to have sex with
her.  And, damn, did I ever.  I couldn't see actually fucking her, I
couldn't see myself penetrating a child, but I wanted to hold her and touch
her, and most of all taste her.  She turned me on incredibly, that quickly,
she was a angel, fallen to earth...  she was something that I'd never even
guessed existed in this world.  I cannot describe it any better than that,
I'm sorry.

   I was freakishly scared, at that age, of veneral disease and other
scourges of the sexual world.  She was so young and sweet and pure,
though...  I never worried about it with her.  Nothing bad could come from
something so sweet, I knew.  When I looked at the big girls, I heard the
line from that Cheap Trick song, "some Indonesian junk that's goin'
'round," but I was never afraid of her.  And I got lucky, I guess.

   I probably gave her ten bucks, that first night.  We finally sat, in two
beach chairs, and I was content just to hold her little hand.  She became
restless, and I felt like I had to turn her loose, to my sorrow.

   She looked at me.  "Tomorrow?" she said, and I said, yes, tomorrow.  To
see her again is all I desired, to spend another hour or two in her
company. I wanted to see her again, bad.

   I left her, there on the beach, I went into the hotel as she walked back
down the boardwalk.  I had hugged her goodbye, and I kicked myself for not
kissing her.

   I had an idea, though, for the next night, if she did show up.  I had my
North Carolina driver's license, and a pocket full of cash.  We'd paid
about twenty bucks for each of our huts, when we'd checked in.  If I could
rent a room...  and have the nerve to walk her into it...  I could spend an
evening in private with her.  I wasn't sure yet what I'd do with that
privacy...  but I hungered for it.

   The next day passed in a rush.  I made the trip down to the beach a half
dozen times, to see if I could spot her.  At last, a few hours before
sunset, I saw a little girl a few hundred feet down the boardwalk.  She
came to me, and hugged me just like we were old friends.  I hope, looking
back, that she saw me as more than just easy money.  I'm not an idiot, but
I hope that.

   I tried to explain my plan to her.  She nodded, but then she nodded at
everything I'd ever said.  I finally left her, and went around to the
office.  I knew they hadn't seen me when we checked in, my uncle had done
all that.  I was even crafty enough to fetch my suitcase, so it looked like
I'd just got off the boat.

   Some negotiations followed, and the room ended up costing me twenty five
dollars, for reasons unknown.  That was a lot, in 1979 dollars, but I'd
brought a pretty big wad of cash with me, and I felt like this was a
worthwhile investment.  I got the key, and hurried out, hoping she was
still waiting for me.

   She was.  I explained my plan again, and she followed me.  We went right
to the bungalow, and I unlocked the door.  We entered.  Nobody even seemed
to notice.  Good.  My heart was still pounding like a machine gun.  I was
getting away with something bigger that I'd ever even dreamed of
attempting.

   We just sat, and talked.  She gravitated closer and closer, and at last,
with great satisfaction, she was seated on my lap.  I was lost in her huge
brown eyes.  Her hair was black, long and silky.  She had the most
beautiful smoothest mocha-colored skin I'd ever seen.  Her little body felt
incredible, as I slowly dared to put my hands upon her.  I said all this
crap earlier about her being a kid, and what I thought I couldn't do... 
but by now she turned me more than anything in my life had.  You could have
smacked my cock with an iron bar.  It was harder than iron.

   She was sexiness, personified.  I have no idea why, I guess this was the
start of the single biggest personality flaw of my life...  my pedophiliac
nature.  I have no idea if this was just waiting inside of me, to be
released...  or if this is what started it all.  I do not blame her for
that, it is my flaw.  I barely knew what a pedophile was, at this time.  I
had never considered myself one, and didn't for many years afterwards.  I'm
still not sure...  I'm certainly not a card carrying pedo...  I don't hang
around schoolyards, wearing a raincoat and handing out lollipops.  I don't
hide in women's bathrooms and jump out, scaring little girls.  I've managed
to keep almost all my fantasies in my head, all these years.  This, the
first time, is the most I've ever done, with an underaged child.  I love
children.  I have sympathy with them, empathy...  I want to let them stay
children, as long as they can.  What I tell next may not sound like that,
sadly.  This one, this one was special...  this one offered herself to
me... that does not make it right, I know...  and I may pay, someday, for
the things I did...  I will not pay to man, too many years have gone by. 
All I can fear, at this point, is the god I no longer believe in...  and
he's got better things to do, I hope, than spank my cosmic booty for
something I did thirty odd years ago.  If he exists.

   Okay, so I've tried to justify it.  I was young, horny,
consciences-less...  I still had no desire to invade her small body with my
aggressive, colonialistic penis...  the poor child...  in my mind, she's
still a virgin, all these years later.

   I kissed her, at last.  I remember the first kiss, it was short and
sweet.  I hadn't kissed that many girls, I was a slow starter.  Chances
are, she was more experienced than I was, even.  But, she was sweet.

   About this time, everything stopped.  She was no dummy.  We negotiated,
a process of her telling what and how much, and me saying yes, yes,
impatiently.  I'm lucky she didn't just say, "give me all your money,"
because I probably would have.  She left the room that night with a twenty
tucked into her panties, and I hope she felt suitably compensated for a
evening of an ugly American pawing her body.

   Paw her body I did.  At last, she slid out of her little dress. 
Quickly, her panties followed.  She stood before me, shyly smiling.  She
had an holy, perfect beauty that still shocks me, to this day.  I hope she
carried it into adulthood.  All I could do is stare.  Her chest was as flat
as a board, of course.  Two tiny perfect (and hard) nipples.  And nice
plump little hairless mons.  Her ass was out of this world.  I didn't see
it until a few minutes later, but it took my breath away, when I did.  I've
always been an ass man, and this one was beyond my ability to accurately
describe.  Just incredible.  I didn't have a whole lot to compare her too,
but she was miles ahead of anything I'd ever seen.

   She sat on the bed, and I kneeled before her.  I was not, at this age,
the most sexually experienced person in the world.  The things I'd done
with my cousin were the high point of my sexual career, so far.  One thing
I loved, probably thanks to my older sister (another story, sorry) was
eating pussy.  More accurately, licking pussy.  That was something I could
do for hours.

   I lay her down, and spread her legs with my hands.  In retrospect, she
seems to have been prepared for this stage.  She accepted it, completely.
She lay back, and I bent my head to her sweet crotch.  There follows the
most enjoyable experience of all my fifty-five years.  I will not try to
describe it, I'm not sure I could if I tried.  It was out of this world. 
And her...  asshole...  I'm a dyed-in-the-wool asshole freak.  Her little
puckered sweetness was everything I'd dreamed of someday finding...  my
tongue found a home that it never wanted to give up.  I'll remember her
beautiful asshole until the day I die.  Sweet and tart, sweaty and slightly
poopy...  I still have dreams about it.

   The taste of her pussy, elusive after all these years, was unlike my
cousin.  Where my cousin was heavy, she was light.  My cousin was
in-your-face, she was subtle.  Once again, words fail.  I put my face down
to her sweet pussy, and licked.  I licked heaven.

   I cannot describe the next hour.  My twenty-five dollars for the room
was well spent.  A hunger was ignited within me that has lasted the rest of
my life.  A primal urge that I never knew I had was satisfied, for just a
moment.  It was incredible.

   We just lay there, afterwards, and I held her.  I think she came, as I
slobbered on her, I'm not sure...  I know she was able too, she did
later... but I'd like to think I gave her something, at least, other than a
handful of cash.

   I held her.  Those are the best memories I took from this, as incredible
as licking her was, and even later when I got to cum.  I loved just laying
there and holding her.  If I could relive any moments of my life, after all
these years, that moment would be it.

   I finally ordered room service, a really bad pizza almost as expensive
as the room (the hotel did not practice the one dollah method).  We ate,
and an hour later I was bowing before her, worshiping her again with my
tongue.  With some reservations I got my cock out, in spite of her giggles,
I hoped she was not laughing at the size of my average Caucasian cock.  She
played with it a bit, and finally crouched at the foot of the bed and took
it in her mouth.  The only blow jobs I'd ever had were from my sister and
cousin, and this one was different, much lighter, but infinitely superior,
probably just because of the source.  I could not imagine cumming in her
little mouth, but as it went longer and longer I realized she was waiting
for me to.  I finally spoke to her, and tried to make her realize what was
going to happen.  She knew.  My innocent little angel wasn't that innocent.

   I came, incredibly, and it just blew the bottom out of my balls.  I came
so hard it hurt.  She giggled and drooled semen on me, she couldn't keep it
in.  I think she thought that was part of the game, she did that every
time. I panted for breath, feeling cramps in muscles I didn't know I had,
and just lay there, and held her again.  For my life so far, the taste of
sperm had disgusted me, but I kissed her, tasting myself in her mouth, and
it didn't bother me then.  I loved that it was her.

   I loved her by then, of course, so deeply that I have never escaped. 
All I have now is a memory to love, and it's not nearly enough, but that's
the way it is.  I know I love an idealized version of her, a sweet little
angel...  I hate to think what she might have become, over the years.  The
sex industry was a big deal on Bali, and as I understand it still goes on,
somewhat.  I hope she got out, though chances are slim.  I hope she wasn't
ground into a piece of meat.  She was just a child.  Tears still come in my
eyes when I think of her condition, in spite of me, as well as others,
taking advantage of her, tasting, taking away from her sweetness.  What a
cruel, heartless savage world we live in.

   I finally turned her loose.  I had found out we'd spend the rest of our
time in Indonesia here, and I made an appointment to see her the next day,
to my intense pleasure.  I took the room for another night, and joined back
up with my aunt, uncle and cousin.

   They were not idiots.  They new I'd been up to something, I'd been gone
all evening, I spun a tale about meeting some Australian guys and hanging
out in the bar and some other shit, I can't remember.  My cousin gave me
"the look", she was way craftier than I ever dreamed of being, and she knew
I was feeding them shit.  But, she minded her business, she was probably
glad somebody else was feeding my carnal desires, since she wasn't going to
touch me with her parents in the next room.

   The next evening was more of the same.  One of my fondest memories of
this time was her sitting in my lap, as I ran my hard cock up and down the
front her little cunt, I looked down and could see it pushing up through
her little pussy lips, rubbing her clit.  It was the sexiest fucking thing
I've ever done in my life.  If you've read this far, and are disgusted by
that sentence, sorry.  There was more, even.  Go read something else if you
don't like it.

   I never fucked her.  I'm not sure if she could have, she was so tiny,
but I also know what she was there on the beach for...  probably she could
have, probably she did have, before...  I know that not everyone is as
considerate a pedo perv as I am...  I'm sure that more than a few
imperialist aggressor penises had plumbed her depths by then...  but mine
did not.  I am both proud of and regret that.  Her little pussy felt tight
on my tongue, and fingers, what little I probed her.  She had the sweetest
little pussy I've ever seen, before or since.

   We did this three times, total...  maybe seven or eight glorious hours,
with her all to myself.  I paid her well, way over what I'm sure she would
have asked, or probably got with anyone else.  I'm not saying that like I'm
proud of it, I'm just telling the truth.  Yeah, I paid a little girl to let
me molest her.  I'm sorry, but that's the way it happened.  I was horny,
and she had to make a living.  I'm still sorry for her situation, after all
these years, though I drank deeply from her sweetness.

   I still wonder, after all these years, on an almost daily basis,
whatever happened to her.  What she became, what it did to her, to whore
herself out at such a tender age.  Whatever her fate is, I was partly
responsible, and I accept that.  If I have to pay, in some cheesy hellish
afterlife, I will.  What I took from her was worth almost any price, maybe
even an eternity of having my ass poked by devils with pitchforks.

   I loved her with a purity and passion I have never achieved again,
sadly. I think of her, every day.  I think of her as sweet and innocent and
pure, not some kid hooker.  Funny how the mind works.  I wish I could have
met her now, as I am now, although I'm not sure I would have had the nerve
to do anything...  but now I have the resources to possibly do something
for her...  maybe just to stay in touch, if nothing else.  Things were
different way back then, and I was different.  When she finally walked
away, it was for forever.

   That's it, that's my sad story.  This was a hard story to write, and
once again, forced me to confront things about myself that I usually just
let lie.  You don't know me, but maybe you understand me a little better,
like me or not.

   I hugged and held her that last night, I knew we'd be leaving in the
morning.  I wanted to hold her forever.  I would cry, now, but I didn't
then.  She didn't seem to care or understand, maybe I was just another john
to her.  I hope she felt a little bit how much I loved her.  No idea.  She
walked out of the room, and out of my life, and three days later I was
eight or ten thousand miles away, back in the states.  Wherever, whatever
you are, today, Mischa, I love you.




http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/MeatBot/
   

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