Path: not-for-mail
From: Simple Man <Simple@hotmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.incest,alt.sex.incest,alt.stories.incest
Subject: Re: REPOST: JENNY.TXT "Jenny" (Mgg, cons, *very* pedo, preg?, corrected)
Date: Sun, 25 Jan 2004 16:23:40 -0600
Organization: Posted via Supernews, http://www.supernews.com
Message-ID: <1018gfc5n7urfc0@corp.supernews.com>
References: <bv1ann$370$1@pita.alt.net>
X-Priority: 3
X-MSMail-Priority: Normal
X-Newsreader: Microsoft Outlook Express 6.00.2800.1158
X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1165
X-Complaints-To: abuse@supernews.com
Lines: 806
===================
The very best that I have ever read. Thank you!
SM
"Frank McCoy" <mccoyf@millcomm.com> wrote in message
news:bv1ann$370$1@pita.alt.net...
>
>
> Jenny
> An Erotic Story
>
> In my mind I call her Jenny. I never knew her real
> name.
>
> After all these years, I still curse myself for never
> asking. At the time, it seemed the most intelligent thing
> to do. Now I know how incredibly dumb I was. Yes, dumb.
> When you're 26, a little over two years out of the Service,
> still a virgin, and horny as an old goat, you'll do some
> incredibly stupid things too. At the time (this was back
> about late spring or early summer of 1948), being young, I
> thought myself invincible. Nothing could harm ME. Not
> bullets, not people. I even laughed at the idea of going to
> jail. I never dreamed how much I could be hurt.
>
> I was freshly out of a job that day; but wasn't
> worried. Back then, with my invincible attitude, I knew I
> would find one within a few days of when I started to look.
> Still, I wasn't in any hurry; wanting to enjoy a few days of
> unscheduled vacation before looking. I knew that any job I
> took would require at least a year's work (and probably two)
> before they gave me any vacation time. That's the way the
> Corporate World worked. Since I'd just gone almost two
> years without vacation, when the shop I was working in
> unexpectedly closed down (New owners.), I felt entitled to
> spend at LEAST a week on vacation, before getting seriously
> down to job hunting.
> I never knew then, that I was a pedophile. At least,
> that's what they'd call me these days. I was SERIOUSLY
> attracted to young women; but thought then mostly of looking
> at women from the ages of about twelve years old to about
> eighteen, or twenty tops. These days, even thinking about
> sex with a 12-year-old would get you classified as a
> pedophile. Back then, there wasn't even such a category ...
> I think. Heck, in those days it was considered NORMAL to
> look at a nicely turned-out teenager or even pre-teen girl,
> and remark how much you'd like to get in her pants. (Yeah,
> pants. In those days, all women AND girls wore dresses and
> skirts. If you talked about getting in a woman's pants, you
> meant those *underneath* her skirt. Nowadays, you'd call
> them panties ... flimsy, frilly things.) "Old enough to
> bleed, is old enough to breed," went the saying. We were
> just getting out of the days when most men married girls as
> young as twelve ... and an "old maid" was a girl of 16-18,
> who was still unmarried. By then though, the "old maid"
> stage had slipped with advancing life expectancy, until, at
> the time this took place, you wouldn't think of a girl as
> being an old maid until she was at least in her middle
> twenties. I doubt even the girl's mother was that old;
> probably marrying her childhood sweetheart at fourteen, her
> first kid within a year, and then divorced (a "grass widow")
> five or six years later. Just thinking about it makes me
> feel so STUPID! There's nothing in the world to make an old
> man's heart ache, as much as missed chances.
>
> In my mind I call her Jenny. I never knew her real
> name.
>
> There I was, sitting in the park, listening to the
> birds, the breeze in the trees, and just enjoying a nice
> sunny summer day. One of the reasons I like to visit parks
> (besides those stated) was I also like to watch children
> play. Back then, I had dreams of getting married and having
> children of my own. Still, up to then I'd never even
> properly kissed a girl (other than my sister ... once) and
> never gotten further with one than the single time I'd
> gotten a finger in MaryLou's pants that time we were sitting
> at the dinner table when I was visiting the cousins. Now
> THAT was dumb too! Sitting there, in the living room, with
> your hand up underneath your cousin's skirt, hand in her
> panties, and a finger slipping in and out of her slippery
> little slit. If we'd gotten caught....
> But we didn't. After supper that night, I tried again
> .. but neither MaryLou nor either of her two younger
> sisters would sit with me for the rest of the night. I
> guess their big sister told them what I did. Thankfully, my
> mother never found out.
> But that was almost ten years earlier. At twenty-six,
> I was (I figured) probably the only virgin in the whole
> state older than twenty; with no chance it seemed of
> correcting that condition. Not that I was that ugly, mind
> you. Tall, skinny, not exactly handsome, but not ugly.
> What I was, was terminally shy with women.
> Kids, on the other hand, make my day. I still love
> being around kids; their infectious giggles about silly
> things can brighten up the most serious grump's day.
> Getting one of the little angels to sit on my lap, or to
> hold a cute baby in my arms ... These are the precious
> memories an old man turns over in his mind like faded leaves
> of autumn, caught and pressed in a book for safekeeping.
> With each examination they grow slightly more ragged and
> fragile. That's why I'm writing this down. I don't want
> ALL memory of that precious hour forgotten forever. Even I
> will soon be gone; but maybe this record will survive after
> me.
>
> In my mind I call her Jenny. I never knew her real
> name.
>
> The first time I saw Jenny, was when her mother walked
> by me in a scented whirl of soft skirt that drew my
> immediate attention. The woman, looking barely in her
> twenties, if that, looked almost too young to have three
> children of her own. All I remember of her though, was a
> fairly tall woman, brown hair, sharp nose, and off-orange
> dress that reached to her ankles.
> "C'mon, Children," she directed her brood. "We only
> have a couple hours to play."
> "Yaaaayyy!" came the enthusiastic response from the
> kids. I'm not sure which two of the three. With the shrill
> whistling shriek, the three kids scampered off in three
> directions in the playground; the youngest two for each end
> of the sandbox, while the older girl headed for the teeter-
> totter, in hopes I suppose of getting some of the other kids
> to take the other end.
> When I saw the young mother heading for my bench, I got
> up myself and moved towards the empty swing-set. I told you
> I was shy. Right then, though I didn't know it, I missed an
> opportunity that I've been cursing myself for ever since.
> If I'd ONLY introduced myself! <Sigh.> Now, as then,
> missed opportunities almost never come back.
> Back then, swings were wooden boards, usually with
> ropes. Metal was usually too expensive for swings; so it
> wasn't until some years later that they started using chains
> for durability ... and then later rubber slings, so kids
> couldn't come flying out of them so easily and get hurt.
> Also, so kids wouldn't get hurt by a wooden board smacking
> them in the head, I guess. Our litigious society, these
> days. But this is now; that was then.
> I sat there for close to twenty minutes; seemingly
> reading my book ... but actually sneaking peeks at the two
> darlings playing in the sandbox. It seems the older of the
> two youngsters, a girl about six who pointedly avoided her
> little brother, had somehow neglected to wear panties that
> day ... And every so often she'd be turned my way when
> squatting; and I'd get an almost full view of her bare
> little cunny!
> "She does that on purpose, you know," came a quiet
> voice at my elbow. The girl's older sister was standing
> there; trying to sneak a peek at the volume in my hand.
> Well ... you don't just show, "An Autobiography of a Flea"
> to a kid you meet in a park! I, quietly and as nonchalantly
> as I could, put the book aside, and tried to distract the
> girl by asking what she was talking about.
> "My little sister," she explained. "She likes to show
> off her crack. Acts like it's an accident. Some day some
> guy is going to put his `thing' in her, and she'll really
> squeal." She paused a moment, then added thoughtfully, "Of
> course, she might really like it too. I sure do."
> I almost fell off the swing, at the unexpected
> statement. You just DON'T have a little girl walk up to you
> in the park, tell you how much she likes to have big horny
> men put their swollen pricks all the way up inside her tight
> little cunny, and squirt her tummy full thick white cream!
> Well ... Jenny did. Jenny. That's what I call her in my
> mind.
> I was saved from having to make an intelligent reply by
> the girl's mother picking that moment to come over. "Uh ...
> say?' she asked hesitantly.
> I woggled my eyebrows; bringing a giggle from the child
> next to me.
> "You seem to like watching the kids," she began, "and I
> was wondering ...."
> "Yes?" I asked. Hell, I was almost beet red from
> embarrassment. I was lucky to get that out, what with the
> conversation (if you could call it that) that I had been
> having with her eldest daughter.
> "I was WONDERING," she repeated; now blushing herself,
> "if you could watch the kids for a few minutes. I don't
> want to leave them alone. You hear all these stories these
> days about perverts who hang around playgrounds."
> Well ... I wasn't a pervert ... or at least didn't
> consider myself one THEN. Except for my cousin, I'd never
> molested a girl in my life; and I'm not too sure even that
> would be considered abnormal; just sexual experimentation of
> two kids, since we were the same age.
> "Uh ...," I said, looking around for somebody to rescue
> me. Not that I really MINDED watching the cute youngsters
> .. I was doing that already. I just didn't think I was the
> best person for the job ... not with a hard-on from looking
> up her little six-year-old's short little dress! There
> didn't appear to be a living soul except for us within
> blocks.
> "Please?!" she pleaded. "It's only a few blocks back
> to the car; and I don't want to leave the kids unattended.
> It'll only be a few minutes ... half an hour at the most.
> If I take the kids back with me, they won't get to play; and
> I really PROMISED them they'd have some time at the park
> today. Please?" she repeated.
> "Uh ...." I always was a sucker for a damsel in
> distress. She was pretty, the kids were cute and sexy, and
> I didn't have anything at all I really needed to do right
> then,
> The mother seemed to sense my capitulation. "Thanks,
> really," she almost gushed. "I'll make it up to you. You
> won't regret it. I'll be back in a half-hour ... 45
> minutes, tops!" This last was almost yelled back. "Now you
> kids be nice for Mister ... uh ... Mister. You do what he
> says, OK?"
> "Yes, Mom," from my elbow. A distracted, "Yes, Momma,"
> from the sandpit. No reply at all from the youngster at the
> other end.
> I turned to the sprite next to me. "Your sister really
> does that deliberately?" I asked.
> "Uhuh," she nodded, seriously. "So do I; but I try not
> to be so obvious about it."
> "Oh," I gulped; somewhat nonplused by the idea that the
> youngster standing beside me had nothing on under the short
> skirt she was wearing but her own bare skin. "Can I see
> it?" I asked daringly.
> Carefully the child looked around on all sides before
> saying, "I guess so," and quickly flapping her skirt high so
> that I got a quick glance at the bare body underneath. A
> flashing view of puffy little cunny-lips, and an oh-so-sweet
> look at a bare little belly.
> "I can't let you look very long," she apologized.
> "Somebody might see us." Damn, the kid had more sense than
> I did! It was with some disappointment that I heard her
> say, "Can you swing me?"
> Well ... If I couldn't sit there examining the little
> tart's treasures I guessed I could push the child's swing.
> Heck, if I pushed it from the FRONT, then I'd probably get
> quite a few glances up the child's skirt. That certainly
> wouldn't hurt; and it wouldn't be as if I was molesting her!
> I started to get up.
> "Not THAT way," she pouted; stopping my getting off the
> seat. "I want to sit in your lap," she explained.
> Oh.
> I shouldn't have done in ... But I did. If I had known
> what was going to happen, both then and in the years to
> come, I'm still trying to convince myself I would have
> stopped. I'm a liar too. I know darned well I would have
> continued anyway. Like I said, young guys that age think
> they're invincible. Nothing bad can happen to THEM. I'm
> ashamed to admit it, but I did it. Yes, I picked up the
> youngster and sat her square in my lap; her skinny legs
> dangling down on either side; and her bare little cunny
> rubbing against the front of my pants! The short skirt the
> child wore was just long enough to barely cover up the two
> of us without showing she didn't have anything on
> underneath.
> "See?" she whispered in my ear; while I started rocking
> the swing gently. "Now you can reach up under my dress and
> touch me; and nobody will notice."
> Oh God.
> I looked around, and still all I could see was a few
> trees, and the two younger kids still playing quietly in the
> sandbox. The girl's younger sister though, threw a big grin
> at us as she saw my hand was already underneath her big
> sister's skirt.
> God the child was smooth and warm and erotic. I
> couldn't help myself; barely able to keep one hand holding
> onto the rope; keeping the two of us semi-steady, while I
> felt up the child with the other one. Smooth and warm and
> .. dipping one finger experimentally into the child's slit
> .. wet and slippery inside.
> The little girl didn't object; instead pushing back at
> me as my middle finger slid inside her tight little tunnel
> to the hilt. "That feels good," she murmured, before
> reminding me to keep on swinging slightly so nobody would
> suspect. The hard part was doing that without having a
> heart-attack.
> "Billy likes to put his `thing' in me when we do this,"
> she moaned; trying to push herself even farther onto my big
> finger.
> "Billy?" I asked; looking in surprise at the little boy
> in the sandbox. No way a kid THAT young would or even could
> ...
> "Billy ... My big brother."
> Oh. I was still almost shocked speechless that a girl
> this young would not only let her brother feel her up; but
> seemed to enjoy the idea of complete vaginal intercourse .
> Something even *I* hadn't experienced yet; and I was close
> to three times her age.
> "Please?" she whimpered. "It feels REAL good that way.
> I'll make it feel good for you too."
> When I didn't reply; the child squirmed even harder;
> trying to force my whole hand inside her body. "Billy
> really likes it a lot," she added persuasively.
> I was lost. I'll BET her big brother liked it "a lot".
> I could just imagine how tight the youngster's tight little
> tunnel would feel around my swollen prick. Her vagina was
> already making rippling motions on my invading finger. I'd
> never really gotten my prick inside a real girl before ...
> and here I was RESISTING the first one who asked me???
> For some reason, the age of the girl I was about to
> lose my virginity with, didn't bother me in the slightest.
> It just didn't seem important right then.
>
> Like her mother, the girl could sense the collapse of
> my resistance. Hurriedly looking around again she reached
> underneath herself, unbuttoned my pants, unfastened my belt,
> pulled the front of my pants open, reached down inside my
> underwear, and pulled out my swollen and leaky prick. It
> was obviously NOT the first time the girl had done something
> like this, as the youngster managed the whole operation
> without getting off my lap or me moving off the swing.
> Luckily there was a building and fence just behind us; as
> anybody now passing to our rear would have seen me sitting
> on my pants; my bare rear-end hanging out for all the world
> to see. The child's short skirt still hid the obscene
> things going on from the front. I didn't dare do more than
> slightly rock the swing though, in a parody of swinging.
> "Are you sure?" I barely managed to gasp, as the little
> girl grasped my prick, and directed the cum-dripping head
> against her almost equally slippery little crack. Way too
> late, if you ask me now. I was almost scared to death we
> might get caught; yet unable to stop myself since the child
> seemed so eager. Besides, I'll admit it, my prick was doing
> most of my thinking right then. Only the fact that the
> child obviously had done this many times before (With her
> own BROTHER?) kept her young age from sending me screaming
> in fright. As it was, I certainly wouldn't be abusing the
> little girl's innocence!
> "Uhuh," she muttered; concentration aimed mostly at my
> penis; fitting the member firmly against her tight little
> baby-hole. "Billy really likes it when I do THIS," she
> groaned ... and then slid down my prick to the hilt!
> Oh God! I almost groaned my ecstasy as I felt a tight
> ring surround the head of my prick ... and then ripple
> smoothly down until it was making almost incredibly tight
> spasms round the base where my pubic hair had finally turned
> into a fairly decent bush. It was all I could do to keep
> from wailing my ecstasy at losing my virginity to the world
> .. And no doubt bringing twenty thousand cops running to
> see who was being killed. It was only THAT scary notion
> that kept me from yelling aloud.
> Blinking back unexpected tears, I checked hurriedly
> around again to see who might notice the pervert in the
> park, now mated to a little girl perhaps only a third his
> age. Nobody except the child's little sister, who was now
> unabashedly staring at where my prick vanished into her big
> sister's body; now completely unaware that she was making
> almost as erotic a display herself, with her short skirt
> rumpled almost up to her belly-button, and wet little charms
> fully in view of any passer-by who happened along.
> Thankfully, nobody did. I still shudder to think about it.
> "Oooh, you're even bigger than Daddy."
> Oh shit. Every man likes to know he's big; but the
> thought of this little precocious morsel taking her own
> father's prick inside her almost had me spouting before I
> barely got inside her. "You fuck your own daddy?" I asked.
> "I used to," she pouted. "Then Momma caught Daddy in
> my room one night, and they had a big argument. He never
> came back; and I miss him," she sniffled. "After that, it
> was only me and Billy."
> Oh. "You and Billy," I repeated dumbly.
> "Billy taught me this," announced the girl sitting on
> my prick; seeming to recover her cheerfulness immediately,
> now that she had a prick inside her. The youngster
> deliberately did not bounce up and down. I guess it would
> have been way too obviously a little girl fucking. She
> closed her eyes; and her mouth screwed up in concentration,
> while I felt ripples of muscles running up and down the
> engorged member. "See," she told me, "I TOLD you I'd make
> it feel good for you."
> Oh God, did she ever. Too damned good for her own
> good, it seems. "I'm going to cum," I announced in barely a
> groan. I didn't dare say it louder. Still, I had to warn
> the child, even if she WAS way too young to worry about
> getting pregnant.
> "Are you going to put your baby-stuff inside me now?"
> she asked.
>
> I almost let her have every drop right then. Still, I
> somehow managed to hold on. After all, I wanted my first
> sex to last longer than five seconds! While I was in a
> hurry to finish before her mother got back ... or anybody
> ELSE noticed the obscene thing going on over at the swings
> .. or some other children showed up, a few more seconds
> wouldn't make that much difference; while it would double or
> triple the time I had spent fucking a real live girl. What
> a way to lose your virginity!
> "How old are you, Hon?" I asked. Something I should
> have known a long time ago. Heck, some kids look younger
> than their ages. The kid could be eleven or twelve even.
> Some kids didn't develop breasts or hair on their vaginas
> until then. My prick actually wilted a little inside her at
> the scare.
> "Eight," she replied; holding up both hands; one with
> thumb and little-finger tucked under. "And a half," she
> added proudly.
> 8 1/2 ... still a kid, thank Goodness. "You're too
> young to have a baby yet," I reassured her; breathing a
> silent sigh of relief myself.
> "Momma won't let me take Billy's baby-stuff in my tummy
> any more," the girl responded. "She made us stop when my
> periods started, about two months ago."
> Oh shit, oh shit, oh SHIT! I couldn't help it. The
> child's rippling cunny around my prick caught me by
> surprise. I had been paying more attention to the
> conversation than I had to the incipient eruption in my
> prick. All the time we had been talking, the little eight-
> year-old had been milking my prick with her tight little
> cunny ... and the youngster finally got what she had been
> begging me for ... a belly full of thick white cum.
> "It's not so much fun when he has to pull out, just
> when it's getting exciting," she complained; squirming and
> squeezing, and rippling her muscles up and down my prick.
> That was too much. I felt the first thin squirt of
> sperm spit out my prick, and into the child's welcoming
> belly. It was soon followed by thicker and more satisfying
> squirts.
> "Are you putting your baby-stuff in me now?" she asked;
> her attention obviously drawn by the fact that our movements
> had suddenly gotten slicker. It was WAY too late for me to
> pull out; so I just let it flow. Spurt after spurt, and jet
> after jet sprayed into the child, as it felt like I was
> almost pissing sperm into the child's womb. If fifty cops
> had arrived at that moment, I wouldn't have been able to
> stop fucking the child; jerking my sperm into her body in
> squirt after thick glorious squirt.
> "Uhuh," I groaned; unable to stop myself. "I'm doing
> it right now. Oh God, it feels good."
> "Thanks, Mister." She squirmed on me. "Did you like
> it?" She had to ASK?
> "Uhuh," I agreed; panting into her neck; enjoying the
> sweet scent of little girl added to the thick musk of male
> cum. "I liked it a LOT." The understatement of the
> century.
> My prick finally wilted a little; not really getting
> soft; but soft enough to pull out without hurting her. A
> thick white flood followed.
> "Wow," she muttered, "you sure do come a LOT ... even
> more than Daddy did. Is that really the stuff that makes
> babies?" she asked, innocently.
> "Uhuh," I could barely groan; guilt now overtaking me.
> "Wow," she repeated. "Am I going to have a baby now?"
> she asked, hopefully. "I want one, and Mom won't let Billy
> put his baby-stuff in me any more," she added with a slight
> moue of disappointment.
> Suddenly guilt warred with a desire to give the little
> girl what she was asking for. No wonder she let a strange
> man feel her up, fuck her, cum in her, and fill her tiny
> little womb with sperm. I'd never met a girl before who
> WANTED to get pregnant; though I've learned since it's not
> all that uncommon ... even in girls too young have babies
> yet. It's just not something people advertise.
> "Well ... Maybe," I explained. "Most girls don't
> usually get pregnant on the first try. Usually it takes at
> least two or three times of a man putting his baby-stuff in
> a girl before she catches. Though it could happen. You're
> a little young yet; but you COULD have my baby inside you
> right now."
> Oh God ... I could just see the headlines now, "Nine
> year old girl has BABY! Pervert in Park Arrested Man gets
> 99 years with no parole for fucking baby." Not that the
> girl was a baby ... far from it. She was more woman than
> most 25-year-olds.
> "Wow! He really did it in you, didn't he?" came the
> wide-eyed voice of the child now staring at her big sister's
> crotch where my seed was slowly trickling out. "That's even
> more stuff than Billy squirts," observed the youngster;
> looking in amazement at the mess in her sister's lap.
> "Yeah ... Well help me clean up," agreed the older
> girl; taking her skirt and wiping between her legs. "Here,
> let me borrow YOUR skirt a bit," she commanded; taking the
> little 6-year-old's and using it to finish wiping my dick.
> Neither youngster seemed the slightest embarrassed at
> showing off their completely bald little cunnies to a
> stranger who had just ejaculated inside the older girl.
> "There, that'll do it I guess," she decided, once I was just
> a little sticky. "You'd better get dressed before Momma
> gets back," she told me with the same voice-of-command she'd
> used on her little sister.
> Oh God ... talk about losing track of the really
> important things! If anybody had caught me with my pants
> down like that, just TALKING to two little pre-teenaged
> girls, they wouldn't HAVE to find sticky sperm in the
> youngster's twat to send me to jail forever. I almost cut
> my prick off with my zipper; fighting to get the thing
> closed.
> Wouldn't you know it? In my hurry, the damned thing
> JAMMED; and I could see their MOTHER coming up the sidewalk
> leading to the park. Oh DAMN! I didn't even get my prick
> properly back in my underpants. Shit.
> Still, we DID manage a bit of decorum. I managed to
> pick my book up, cover my lap with it, and PRETEND to be
> reading to the two girls when their mother finally arrived.
> JUST in time.
> "Were the girls good?" she asked; almost causing me to
> choke. I didn't DARE tell her how good the girls really had
> been. Thankfully, she noticed the book in my lap so I
> didn't have to reply. "Oh ... I see you're READING to the
> girls," she exclaimed with obvious delight. "The girls
> really DO like a good book; and I hate to interrupt." She
> looked at the cover, which I had down in my lap; just barely
> covering the open fly and bare prick underneath. "It looks
> kind of rare," she added.
> "It is," I agreed. "It's a classic." Well ... It was,
> and is. NOW you can buy the book in almost any bookstore,
> brand-new, right off the rack. Back in THOSE days, days of
> "The Comstock Act" even having the book in your possession
> could probably have gotten you twenty years in Federal
> Prison. Now the world has swung twice; and BOOKS are now
> legal ... even books like, "Autobiography of a Flea".
> Pictures however ....
> For a short while, ALL pictures and books were legal
> .. even pictures (and books of pictures) of girls as young
> or even younger than the girl I had just had sex with,
> having real sex, full vaginal sexual intercourse with grown
> men, sucking and fucking like grown-ups, were legal. Many
> (a few years after this) coming from Denmark Sweden, and
> even Holland, where in THOSE days, a girl could have sex as
> often as she wanted ... and as young as she wanted. Many
> did; and quite a few of them posed while doing it. It was
> good pay, and the kids enjoyed it. Years later, long after
> it became extremely illegal, many of those kids still looked
> fondly back at the days when they were sex stars. Of
> course, I know now there was some completely illegal and
> abusive porn being made, even back then, where the children
> weren't protected like those Danish "sex star" kids were.
> Now, just owning one of those old beat-up pictures you
> bought legally over-the-counter will get you more years in
> jail than actually fucking, sucking, and getting one of the
> youngsters pregnant with your baby will. Sad, isn't it? A
> man and wife can be "underage" (16) and go to jail for
> taking pictures of themselves having sex ... Getting ten or
> twenty years in prison for "producing child-pornography";
> where the EXCUSE is that, "Children are being molested and
> hurt, to make those pictures!"
> Say what? You send a child to JAIL for 20 years ... to
> PROTECT them from HAVING PICTURES TAKEN of them making love?
> When THEY are the ones taking the pictures of their own
> completely legal actions of having sex together?
> "The Law, Sir, is an ASS!" Truer words never spoken.
> However, in THOSE days, things were even worse, if you
> can believe it. A man could get arrested and sent to
> FEDERAL prison, just for printing a sex-education-manual for
> married women, to tell them about birth control. Yes,
> REALLY. FEDERAL prison, because the PAPER the pamphlet was
> PRINTED on had crossed State-Lines before being used to
> print "pornography". Yeah, right. It doesn't seem right
> NOW; but back then it was the Law of the Land ... just like
> today's idiocy about people looking at PICTURES is the same
> thing as doing what's on the pictures ... at least for child-
> porn. If that's the case, why isn't it illegal to look at
> pictures of bank-robberies or hijacking or murder? Aren't
> those far worse crimes than a little girl getting fucked by
> somebody she loves? Oh .. They're not. Sorry. Funny thing
> that ... It seems it's a far WORSE crime to look at a
> picture of a little girl having sex than to rape, torture,
> burn, and kill that same little girl, taking days or even
> months to torture the child to death.
> No? Then why the FUCK is the punishment for looking at
> the picture worse than that for raping and murdering the
> same girl? To me, something seems wrong about our country's
> attitude towards anything having to do with sex ... and
> especially books or pictures thereof. (Like this story: A
> long LONG prison-term, back in the days when the story took
> place; while actually DOING the things in the story wasn't
> all that bad ... If you married the girl, which in some
> places was even possible back then. Again, I curse myself
> for the stupid fool that I was.
> Sorry ... I'll get off the soapbox now.
> The point was: Just HAVING that particular book in my
> hot little hands back then, was a worse crime than what I
> had been doing to the little girl ... just because it was
> WRITTEN down! And I (idiot that I was) was sitting there
> using THAT BOOK to hide my half-hard erection from their
> mother. Talk about STUPID. Ah well ... You get wiser as
> you get older ... or you don't grow much older.
> "It's a book about a young girl growing up," I croaked;
> trying to get out of the mess without drawing more attention
> to either the book itself, OR what I was trying to hide
> underneath it. "It's VERY hard to get ... Almost no
> libraries have it," I explained. The book looked the part.
> And ... I was right. I knew the Vatican Library had a copy,
> also (I presume) The Congressional Library. Possibly even
> The Louvre. However, none of THEM would let anybody except,
> "serious liturgical scholars" look at such perverse
> material. Books like that, "Casanova," and even, "Lady
> Chatterly's Lover," not to mention, "Lolita," were generally
> only passed around under-the-counter at extremely exorbitant
> prices. But they STILL could be bought ... IF you knew
> where to get them. I did, luckily. However, I wasn't TOO
> worried about the woman recognizing the title. It didn't
> SOUND sexy, like, "The Many Loves of Casanova."
> "Well, why don't you continue reading to the girls for
> a bit. We don't have to go just yet." Oh shit. Trapped by
> my own cleverness. What could I do?
> I read the girls a chapter from the book. Wouldn't you
> know it was the part where Belle helps a man take his own
> daughter's virginity, and get her pregnant with his baby?
> At least I THINK that's what happened. It's been years
> since I finally lost my copy.
> Both girls stood there and just giggled; a thin drool
> sliding down the older girl's ankle; soaking her socks; both
> girls smelling intensely of male cum sticking to the insides
> of their short little dresses; while I falteringly read
> paragraph after paragraph about a man taking his daughter's
> virginity, fucking her, cumming in her, and getting the
> child pregnant with his baby ... just like the child right
> next to me might be conceiving MY child as we talked. I
> should have gotten up and run away. I should have asked the
> little girl standing at my side to marry me. I should have
> done the same thing with her little sister. I SHOULD have
> gone over to the woman on the bench and asked her for a date
> .. her name, address, phone-number, ANYTHING, just to not
> lose track of her. I should have flagged down a passing
> priest and married the woman. I should have told her I was
> in love with her little girl. Anything!
> I did none of those things. I just read a chapter to
> two smirking little girls, who probably never dreamed such
> stories existed, and then finally shut the book when their
> mother got up.
> "Thanks for watching the girls," she smiled. "It
> really helped ... A lot!" "If there's ANYTHING I can do to
> show my appreciation," she added, "you be sure and come over
> to ask ... Mr. ...?"
> If ever there was an obvious invitation, that was it.
> Stupidly, stupidly STUPIDLY! I didn't take the invitation.
> I was too bloody worried about the thick cum still dripping
> from her oldest daughter's slit. If I had half a BRAIN, I'd
> have realized that a woman who didn't raise big objections
> to her older son pumping his prick in and out of his two
> sister's taut little bellies; spewing thick cum in the
> younger girl when the older of the two got too old ....
> Dumb, dumb, DUMB! You get wise when you get older; but
> there's nothing like lost opportunities to make a man feel
> miserable when he gets old. It took a few minutes to gather
> up shoes, socks, and other paraphernalia that kids tend to
> lose in playgrounds ... and especially sandboxes. Then they
> were leaving. <Sigh.>
> It must have been one last try on her part; and I'll
> never forgive myself for not seeing it; but it's too late
> now. "Go back and thank the nice man for watching you," the
> woman told the older girl. "You can catch up with us after
> you're done. We'll walk slow and wait for you." Today,
> those very words just SCREAM invitation ... and knowledge
> about what her little girls and I had been up to. How COULD
> I have been that dense?
> "Momma said to come over here and thank you," repeated
> the girl. "Thanks for putting a baby in my belly. It makes
> me feel all gushy and wet inside." Well ... she SHOULD have
> been wet, with all the sperm I'd ejaculated inside the
> child.
> "Mmmm. I'm supposed to kiss you properly," she told
> me. I didn't remember her mother saying a word about
> kissing. Still, maybe it was a routine practice in her
> family ... only I'm sure not like WE did. Or maybe I'm
> wrong. I'll never know now. <Sigh.>
> "Oh, not like THAT," she complained; as I bent down for
> a chaste little smooch. Darn, I was sure going to hate to
> see the last of her. (Again, stupid, stupid, stupid!)
> "Like THIS," she explained; climbing me like a
> squirrel. Placing each leg on either side of my waist, the
> little girl sat down on the swing facing me; her legs
> pointing in the opposite direction from mine. Her wet and
> bare little cunny splatted wetly on my now-exposed prick,
> while she shoved her little face at mine.
> I pecked at her lips; quite distracted by the feel of
> her cunny slobbering on my now-erect penis.
> "Not like that," she complained again. "Open your
> mouth, dummy" She had my name right THERE.
> "Mmmmm. That's better," the youngster moaned into my
> open mouth. "Thanks for putting a baby in my belly," she
> repeated.
> Oh God.
> "You're welcome," I groaned; lifting her a little so my
> now-erect prick could fit inside her. By then I didn't give
> a DAMN, if her whole family, mother, sister, brother, BIG
> brother, police, or the entire neighborhood stopped over to
> watch. I just HAD to get my prick inside the little girl's
> tight little tube again. Devil be damned.
> "Uh, Uh, OOOhh! The youngster slid down my prick until
> it was in to the root; and the child's talented little inner
> muscles were doing their dance again; milking my prick for
> it's seed. "Uhn, uh, unh," she grunted; bouncing up and
> down on my lap. "Are you going to put your baby-stuff in me
> again?" she asked; not stopping her squirming and milking on
> me.
> `Uh, huh, huh," I grunted in time to the, "Slap, slap,
> slap," of our genitals meeting. If her mother had looked
> back NOW, there wouldn't have been the slightest doubt what
> the two of us were doing on that swing. "Here it c - c -
> comes," I warned the little girl ... way too late; as I was
> already squirting thick sticky streams of goo inside her.
> "Uh, uh, uh, th - th - thank you," she answered; also
> in time to the thick wet slaps of our jerking bodies. "It
> feels NICE," she whined. "Much better than Bobby ... Better
> than DADDY even. Oooh, thank you."
> With that we had to pull apart. I gave the child one
> last open-mouthed kiss, and told her I loved her very much.
> Why, oh WHY did I stop there? My heart still aches.
> She gave me a grin that lit up the park like sun coming
> out from behind clouds.
> Pulling off my lap; she ignored the mess this time; not
> even using her dress to slop up the spill. She was halfway
> to the corner when she turned and said with the sunny smile
> I'll always treasure, "Thanks for the baby, Mister," and was
> gone.
> The whole family turned the corner, and I never saw any
> of them again. I knew the girl's mother simply could NOT
> have missed what her daughter said; as the girl was probably
> closer to her family than me ... and I heard each clear word
> in that childish yet somehow adult voice very distinctly.
> It wasn't until two minutes later, still staring after
> the departing family, that I came to my senses. DAMN!
> "WAIT!!" I suddenly yelled; starting after them at a
> run. The book and backpack I'd brought along went flying as
> I tore off around the corner in frantic search of my lost
> love. "Wait!"
> My words died to a whimper, as I realized nobody was to
> be seen. Oh, two or three people WERE on the sidewalk; but
> nowhere in sight was a family of three kids and a woman ...
> or anything looking like such. Somewhere up ahead, a big
> blue car pulled out from the curb ... but the chances were
> probably good it wasn't them either. Still, I chased it for
> almost three blocks, until it got too far away to see.
> I waited every day at the park for the next week and a
> half, until I simply HAD to go looking for work again.
> After that, I tried asking everybody I met there if anybody
> knew who they were. It seems they had just vanished. Of
> course, I figure they probably were just a family visiting
> the area ... for a day, week, or month; and had just
> happened to stop in at THAT park for some recreation. I
> came back there almost every weekend for over a year; until
> finally my job took me out of the area completely.
> It was only after I knew they were gone, that I
> realized the little girl had stolen my heart in the few
> short minutes we were together. Whether she took my child
> with her in her tummy like she wanted, I'll never know. I
> hope so ....
> On the other hand, I'd hate for the little girl to have
> been saddled with a child she didn't want. She DID so seem
> to want it though. <Sigh.>
> I never fell in love with another girl. The memory of
> the child's sweet perfection always spoiled me for any other
> woman I met. Her, "Thanks for the baby," will be in my ears
> and mind when they lay me in the grave. I never had real
> sex again, either. Oh, I TRIED several times; but Jenny's
> childlike perfection just spoiled me for other women. Every
> time I'd try, I'd wilt. And no (evidence to the contrary)
> I'm NOT the kind of guy to hang around playgrounds, looking
> for little girls to molest. Besides, almost all little
> girls seemed so immature, compared to Jenny. One time in my
> life I had sex. One idyllic perfect time, with the most
> wonderful of all possible partners. How could I torture
> myself with anything less?
> Years later, when I finally got to be fairly well-to-
> do, I tried hiring several private investigators to try and
> find out who she was, and at the very least, how she was
> doing. If she turned out to be fat, happy, with a husband
> and ten kids, then I would have been happy for her. Maybe
> if I had found that out, I could have gone on to love
> somebody else. Maybe. My worry was that Jenny was
> somewhere, alone, with a baby, and nobody to help her in her
> misery. I ached for years; and still do to some extent,
> that I wasn't there to help her and the baby out. This
> story I guess, is my last hope. It's way too late to do
> anything now to fix what I did; but if somehow she or
> somebody in her family recognizes anybody in the story, then
> I hope they'll be kind enough to let her know. It's my last
> hope to apologize. In my mind I still call her Jenny. I
> never knew her real name. Worse yet, she never knew mine;
> because I was too much an idiot, and too frightened to tell
> her. Twenty-six year old men just do NOT fall in love with
> eight year old little girls. Only to my shame, dismay, and
> profound regret I did. I did, and I still am. Twenty short
> minutes, and I was lost forever. Perhaps my memory is
> failing. Everything else is. Perhaps this all really never
> happened; or didn't happen the way I think I remember it.
> Perhaps you're just a little girl I saw once in a park, and
> had fantasies about; and I never did even kiss you, let
> alone get in your nonexistent little panties. Perhaps it's
> just my imagination. But if so, then the world is an
> incredibly poorer place for your not existing; and I've been
> in love with a fantasy for all these years. I just don't
> believe that. It would be too cruel; and the world has been
> cruel enough, keeping me away from you for all these years.
> Why didn't anybody TELL me being in love could hurt like a
> knife in the gut?
>
> Jenny, I love you. I did, from the moment you first
> giggled and asked me to put my baby inside your belly.
> Strange method of proposing I think; but I treasure it
> anyway. I loved you then, I love you now, I always will.
> Please forgive an old idiot for not telling you when you
> needed him, and he had the chance. I'll never forgive
> myself; but still live with the hope that someday you might
> live to see this story and forgive me for being such an
> idiot.
>
> The universe isn't really kind to idiots.
> I miss her. I miss her every day; but mostly at night.
> I probably won't live out the year. The doctor says
> the tumor is inoperable. That's why I'm writing this now.
> I don't have much longer to look for her. The world gets
> darker every day.
>
> In my mind I still call her Jenny. I never knew her
> real name.
>