Perverts 'R' Us

Little Baggage Train

By Loki925 ( M/g, oral )

My name is Paul Dime. I am a stock trader, or a better term for it is day trader. I trade stock over the Internet. I had just moved into a house I bought in a nice, upper-middle- class area, when I heard the door buzzer ring. I went to the door and opened it. Standing outside the door was an eye-popping female. She was about 5'2" with brown hair, just right sized breasts, a slim waist, and gorgeous dark eyes.

Then I looked down and saw she had a little baggage train attached to her gray skirt. Clinging to the woman's dress was a small female child. I guessed her to be 8 or 9 years old. "Oh well," I thought, "the woman must have a husband."

"Hi," the woman said, "I hate to trouble you, but my car won't start. Do you have some jumper cables?"

"Sure," I said, "They are in the back of my car."

"Thank you so very much."

This woman was already thanking me and I had not done anything yet. I got the jumper cables out of the trunk of my car and asked her where her car was. She pointed to just across the street. I took one look at the car and it looked like one beat-up old wreck. The car was definitely out of place for this area.

I drove my car across the street. Got out of my car and attached the cables to her car. Ten minutes later, her car still wouldn't start.

"Thanks anyway," the woman said, "I'll just call a cab."

"Look," I said, "I am not doing anything right now. I could give you a lift."

"Are you sure it wouldn't be a problem?" she asked.

"Not at all."

"OK."

She asked me my name. I told her and she said her name was Ruth Smith. She introduced me to her baggage train, whose name was Crystal. Crystal was 9 years old, but she did not say a peep. Ruth told me Crystal was just shy.

As I drove her to work I asked what her husband did for a living. "Oh," she said, "I am divorced."

Things were looking up, but then again she did have that little baggage train. When I dropped her off I asked if she needed a ride home. She said, "If it is not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all," I answered.

I drove her to and from work for the next few days and still her little baggage train did not say a peep. On Friday, Ruth asked me to dinner. She said it was the least she could do to make up for all the trouble she had put me through.

With some polite conversation, dinner was a mundane affair, but even during dinner Ruth's little baggage train did not say a word. With mundane Friday dinners, I continued to act as a chauffeur for the next two months and still Crystal had not said a word.

But that's not what bothered me, it was my relationship with Ruth. One could hardly say that it was going anywhere.

In my heart I wanted to dump both Ruth and her daughter as excess baggage, but I guess I felt sorry for her and so I trudged on. Thirty days later, I had had enough, so I offered to buy Ruth a car. At first she refused, but in the next couple of days I got her to say yes. Ruth insisted that she pay me back.

Even if she didn't, at least it would get me out of this mess I had gotten myself into. And I would no longer have any concerns as to why Ruth's little baggage train was so un-talkative.

On Saturday I bought Ruth a late model used car. She thanked me and thanked me and swore she would pay me back.

That night about 1:00 a.m. my phone rang. I picked it up and said "Hello."

"Paul---Please---Help---Me." And then nothing.

I recognized the voice, it was Ruth. Quickly I got out of bed and put some clothing on. I went out my front door and hurried across the street. I noticed that the front window on the car I had just bought for Ruth was smashed in.

Ruth's door was open so I dashed into the house. There was stuff lying everywhere. I called, "Ruth! Ruth!" and got no answer. I checked the living room and it looked like a hurricane had hit it. The sofa and chairs were broken. Broken is putting it mildly, it looked like some one had used a chainsaw on the furniture. The couch and chair cushions were shredded, there were several huge holes in the walls, and the rug looked like it had been butchered with a machete. "What the hell happened here?" I thought.

I turned to go down the hall to Ruth's bedroom, but the hallway was cluttered with half the contents of the kitchen. Pots, pans, broken dishes and glasses, forks, spoons, frozen food, the toaster, microwave, and what was left of the TV were all in my way.

Before I could go down the hall I had to clear some of the stuff out of my way. As I started clearing a path, I noticed the odor of shit. Ruth's house had the same layout as mine. That meant her bedroom should be at the end of the hall.

I don't know how long it took to clear a path to Ruth's bedroom, but when I got there the door was locked. I knocked on the door and called, "Ruth, you in there? Ruth!" No answer. From what I had seen, I had no choice but to break the door in. I kicked the door squarely and it opened.

When I entered the room there was no way I was prepared for what I witnessed. Ruth's bed was covered in shit. Next to the bed was Ruth. She looked like she had been hit by a Mack truck. She was naked and it looked like every inch of her skin had small cuts. The left side of her face was swollen and misshapen and her breasts had numerous teeth marks.

I could not tell if Ruth was alive or dead. I kneeled by Ruth and noticed that she was taking small breaths. I was relieved, but I did not know what to do first. I decided to cover her up and call an ambulance. I went to her closet. When I opened the closed door I saw little baggage train cowering in the corner. She was dressed in her Little Princess pajamas. "Crystal," I asked, "Are you ok?"

She leaped out of the corner and clung to my leg. "Crystal," I said again, but she did not answer. I decided to just let her be. On the closet shelf I found a folded-up quilt. I took the quilt and with Crystal clinging to my leg I walked over to Ruth. I covered her with the quilt. I looked around for a phone. I saw one sitting on a nightstand, just on the other side of Ruth's shit-covered bed.

I hoped that it was still working. I turned to go to the phone, then I heard Ruth barely whisper, "Paul."

I turned back to Ruth and she looked up at me, "Paul, promise me that you will take care of Crystal." Ruth said in a very low voice.

"But---"

"Please!"

"Ok." Looking at her I did not have the heart to say no.

"Thank you. You will need this."

She handed me a crumpled up business card and passed out again. I stuffed the card into my pants pocket.

Dragging my little baggage train-laden leg I went to the phone and dialed 911.

About ten minutes later the ambulance arrived. The paramedics were working on Ruth when the police walked into the room. "Sir," one of the officers said, "may I speak to you for a moment?"

"Sure." I answered.

I decided it would be easier if I carried Crystal, that is if I could get her off my leg. I reached down and put my hands around little baggage train's waist and to my surprise she jumped into my arms.

I started to walk out of the room when I heard one of the paramedics say, "He's her brother."

I figured Ruth must have woken up again and told the paramedics that, so I played along. I guess I also knew that if I were not related to Ruth, the police would probably have taken little baggage train to some shelter.

I told the police all I knew, which was nothing. I gave them my name, address, and phone number, and I watched as the paramedics took Ruth out of the house and into the ambulance. The police let me return to my house, having no further questions for me.

However I did ask what hospital the paramedics were taking Ruth to.

As I walked back to my house I thought, "Great, just fucking great. I am stuck with a kid who does not talk and is attached to me like glue, and to make matters worse, I need to take a piss. Well, even if I have to pry Crystal off me, there is no way she is going to be in the bathroom while I piss."

I locked the front door and walked into my bedroom. I stood at the bathroom door for a few moments before I whispered, "Here goes nothing."

I stepped into the bathroom and to my surprise Crystal pushed away from me as if she wanted to get down. So I put little baggage train down, went into the bathroom, closed the door, locked it, and took a piss.

When I was done, I unlocked the bathroom door and opened it. I saw Crystal was sitting on my bed. I only had one bed, and there was no way I was going to sleep on the floor.

I got into my bed put my head on the pillow.

The only thing that surprised me as I drifted off to sleep was that little baggage train just sat there. I don't know how long I was asleep before I was having this fantastic dream about having my cock sucked.

I opened my eyes and, shit it was no dream, little baggage train had about a third of my cock in her little mouth. I reacted quickly and pushed her off my cock. She screamed and screamed. It was the first thing I had heard come out of her mouth.

I tried to calm her down but the more I tried the more she screamed. Finally I screamed back, "What do you want?"

To my shock she answered back, "Suck cock."

I answered with an emphatic, "No!"

She screamed, "Suck cock! Suck Cock!" Over and over again. I tried everything short of slapping her face. Finally I slapped my hands together and she stopped. I showed her the palm of my hand and placed it to her small face.

She tilted her head up as if she expected me to slap her face, and when I didn't she went back to screaming, "Suck cock."

Finally after much screaming and frustration I said, "Fine, suck my cock."

She smiled and with her small hand she pushed on my chest. I lay down and she took my cock into her small hands. She took about a third of my cock into her small mouth and began to suck.

Shit, why did I give in? If anyone ever found out I was having the little baggage train suck my cock, I would instantly be behind bars. Although my head was raging with mental conflict, my cock had no such problem.

Little Crystal was an expert cocksucker and soon the pleasure my cock was feeling took over my conflicted brain. Little baggage train sucked my cock like it was a big pacifier. She sucked my cock like she needed it, like a baby needs her mother's nipple, or maybe as if her life depended on it.

Even though the back of my mind was still nagging at me I was enjoying the way Crystal's small head bobbed up and down on my cock and the way her small hand pumped the base of my cock.

Her lips never left my cock and I was getting that feeling in my balls, that wonderful urge, the need to release. The feeling every male has just before his orgasm, the one he wants to keep and not let go, but he has no choice except to go over the edge, and CUM!!!

With chills of pleasure running up and down my spine, my cock fired semen into Crystal's mouth. She sucked and swallowed each hot jerking spray of my cum. When my cock stopped shooting cum, she milked and squeezed my shaft to make sure she got each and every drop.

When my cock softened, she placed her head on my stomach. Leaving one of her small hands attached to my cock, she was soon asleep. I was emotionally drained, but as I fell asleep I hoped that the morning would shed some light on what had just happened.

I wake up before Crystal does. I put my cock back into my pants and zip the zipper on my pants up. I glance at the clock, it's 7:30 a.m. I decide to call the hospital that Ruth was sent to. I pick up the phone, but I hear my doorbell ring.

The noise wakes up Crystal, who puts her arms around my neck, so I carry her to the front door. I open the door and find two police officers standing there. "Mr. Dime," one of the officers says, "I need to speak to you in private."

I explain to the officer that Crystal just won't let go of me and the officer seems to understand. He then gives me the shocking news that Ruth was killed at the hospital by her ex-husband and her ex-husband was killed by a security officer at the hospital.

The police leave. "What the fuck do I do now?" I think, "I am stuck with a nine-year-old girl who knows two words, 'suck cock'." Then Crystal releases my neck, hops down onto the floor and says her third word, "Pee."

So I say, "Go ahead." But she takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom where she pulls down her pajama bottoms and underwear. I turn to leave and Crystal issues her third and fourth words, "Watch me."

So I watch. I take note of her hairless crotch and the way the piss streams out. When she is done pissing she says another word, "Wipe." This is getting tedious. This kid is nine years old, and she wants me to watch her pee and then wipe her.

I peel several sheets of toilet paper off the roll. Not having wiped a woman's pussy before, I am not exactly sure how to go about this. I fold the sheets of toilet paper and place them against the girl's hairless pussy, patting her lightly there. A little pee is soaked up by the paper, but there is not much wetness there.

Suddenly I feel a rush of new feelings for little Crystal. Somehow this intimate act of wiping her pussy makes me want to care for her as if she were my own child. Strange that I did not have such feelings when she sucked my cock off. Perhaps it was because many women had done that for me, and I saw her as just one more little cocksucker. But wiping the pee off of a little girl's pussy is an entirely new experience for me.

I realize that these new feelings for the girl are fatherly and protective. However I am having other feelings for her that are not fatherly at all. I am shocked to discover that I am feeling sexually attracted to little Crystal. Never before have I entertained such thoughts about a child. I curse myself for having these feelings.

Then Crystal giggles. She grins at me and says another word, "Tickle!" What am I to do?

I look down at her bald pussy and notice that I dropped the tissue into the toilet and I have been rubbing her pussy with my fingers without even realizing it. "Shit, fuck, damn it," my head screams.

I pull my hand away from her hairless crotch and Crystal screams, "Tickle! Tickle!"

"Damn it! Fuck Me!" Now I have to masturbate a child or beat her to a pulp and I doubt even beating her would do any good. I incriminate myself and slowly put my fingers back on little baggage train's hairless pussy.

I grimace and start to masturbate Crystal. I truly feel like shit. I try not to think about what I am doing and instead I wonder about Ruth and her ex-husband. Was he the cause of the trashed house? I guess he had to be, he did kill her.

Was her father the cause of Crystal's problems? Was he the reason she sucked cocks like her little life depended on it? Why would a father do that to his own child? Even though I did not know the man and he was already dead, I hated him as much I was starting to hate myself for being caught up in this mess.

But why should I feel so guilty? I did not cause this problem. Maybe there is some way I can help little baggage train. I still have many questions and few answers.

I remember then, the business card that Ruth had handed me. She said that I would need it. Perhaps that will give me some of the answers to my many questions.

Meanwhile I find that my hand is very busy between the girl's legs. She kicks about on the toilet seat and giggles madly. I realize that my fingertip has found her little clittie and I am tickling it like crazy. It stiffens up and still I tickle it. Crystal is making strange little animal cries of sheer pleasure. Suddenly her whole body tenses up and she cries out as her body convulses. She makes little humping motions against my teasing finger and I realize that I have masturbated the child to orgasm!

Shit, I didn't even know that kids that young could have orgasms. I am feeling guilty about what I have just done but then Crystal says, "You…tickle…good You…keep...me…now…I…suck…cock…good,…Ok?" I realize that little baggage train can speak, although very slowly. Someone has deliberately discouraged her from speaking.

"Yes, Crystal. I will keep you. And you don't even have to suck my cock, Ok?" I say to the poor kid. She was with me when the cop told me about her mother's death, and the girl knew that her mother was gone. Only this concern has caused her to speak up now.

She smiles, reaches up and hugs me. "Crystal…like…suck…Paul…cock." she says. I groan inwardly. What am I to do with such a child? But she knows my name, I guess that is good, maybe? I must take a look at that business card.

To be continued

E-mail: loki925@hotmail.com