August Moone
Book 8
Chapter Forty
Cum Stains for Everyone!

Girl Scout Cumboree continued
Fawn Figby continued
	He had touched her inner soul—plus a lot more.  But that was ok, Fawn had touched HIM, too!  And how!  After their stint on the sofa they moved to the bedroom where even more father-daughter hanky-panky took place.  And how!
	On the sofa and did young Fawn receive her Daddy’s schlong.  Not all of it—not all at once.  The head made penetration and then a bit of shaft.  Daddy Rick’s hands cupped nicely her ass and he was somewhat taken that he was able to make as much penetration as he was doing.
	The presence of her Daddy’s dick into her sex was more—much more—than Jeffery’s dick had been.  She was well enough broken-in, though, but still—
	On the sofa they loved; on Rick’s bed they cemented their love with a gracious quantity of liquid love—the sticky icky kind.  Daddy Rick was somewhat amazed at his ability to make full vaginal penetration; he was gentle and totally overwhelmed—and just a little excited!
	They made love and it was good.
	They made love and it was fantastic!
	They made love and it was more than either of them could imagine.
	They made love and it was a certainty that Daddy Rick didn’t want to move away from his young daughter who was apparently willingly giving it up.  His cock surged in her young pussy and was invigorated in more ways than ever before his cock had dwelled in pussy.  Maybe because it was a young pussy; maybe it was because the young pussy was his daughter’s?  Maybe because it was illicit, illegal, and immoral?  Or a nice combo of all the above.
	We’ll go with that.
	After the first fuck and Rick was more than exhausted.  But it wasn’t so much from having sex—it was having illicit-immoral-illegal sex with his daughter—his young daughter.  He trembled.  He shook and shuddered and trembled during and after penetrating Fawn.  Upon pull-out there was serious energy loss but overshadowed by incredible lustful love to his child.

	They showered together with Fawn enamored with her Daddy’s dick.
	Rick was a little enamored, too—including his dick.  His cock had lessoned in stiffness but was still “thick”.  It didn’t necessarily “tingle” as much as it ached.  Fawn lovingly fondled the daddy-dong, stroked it and sucked on it.
	In no way was Rick going to move away from that!
	And he didn’t.
	Fawn had been successful in keeping her Daddy home.
	There was, however, one more incident—
	And here it is—

	And so it came to pass that dear Daddy Rick did stay; there was the divorce but that was ok; Rick maintained his downtown apartment and Fawn maintained his cock!  It seemed as though their relationship could not falter.  Daddy Rick thoroughly enjoyed his daughter Fawn—and how!  Fawn still let Jeffery get into her but mostly she was into letting her Daddy get into her.
	One day, Fawn arrived at her Daddy’s downtown apartment to find that her Daddy had a friend over.  Friday and Saturday nights were supposed to be private—supposed to be THEIR nights together.  Alone.  She was a little miffed but those things happen.
	However—
	After introductions,
	“Uhm, sweetie, precious, honey, my friend is like me,”
	Fawn stared at her Daddy—very seldom did he call her the pet names, and when he did it was a big deal about to happen.
	“Uhm, well, it’s like this, see, he’s like me—he likes you.”
	Fawn didn’t get it.  She shrugged, “Ok, I like him, too.”
	The “friend” was out in the living room while Daddy spoke hesitantly to his child in her room.
	“Uhm, he really likes you—like I like you.”
	Fawn still didn’t get it.
	Rick realized he was getting no where.
	“Ok, he wants to be with you like I do.”
	Fawn was beginning to get it—sorta.
	“Sex, honey, he wants to have sex with you like I do.”
	Fawn lost all color, her breath was taken, her mouth hung open and she was in shock.  ‘no fucking way!’
	“Together.”
	“Huh?”
	“He, and I, we—we want to do you at the same time.”

	At first and Fawn was in no way going to let some other hump her; but, Daddy Rick begged.  “Please, pumpkin?” the friend was a good friend, a horny friend who found Fawn very nice and had strong desires to have sex with her.
	“I’ll give you an allowance.”
	“I’m already getting an allowance from Mom.” declared the girl.
	“Yes, I know, but this one will be from me.” $20 a week.
	“Plus a bike,” said Fawn, “and a helmet.”
	“And a special video gift for Jeffery.”
	“And a trip (with Jeffery) to amusement park.”
	“A trip to the beach, too.”
	Done.
	It still bothered Fawn a little—just a little but the perks were worth it.
	Sort of.
	In the living room, friend Marshall waited nervously and patiently.  Rick and Fawn came out and there was a head-nod confirmation from Rick.  Marshall managed a meager smile and looked to Marshall offering her own meager smile.  Daddy Rick guided daughter Fawn to the sofa; there he sat down with Fawn at his knee.  
	Marshall sat on the opposite side seemingly a little embarrassed.
	Rick began caressing his standing daughter’s ass, her legs, backside, then mouthed to her “take ‘em down.”
	Fawn was a little hesitant but unfastened her powder blue jeans.
	Down came the jeans slowly revealing yellow panties with blue daises.  Marshall’s eyes were glued to the girl with a serious “want.”  He wasn’t a bad man—er, bad looking; six foot, average weight, sandy brown hair, brown eyes, nice smile and a lot of hair.  He spoke well and wore a college class ring—no other rings but a single earring in one ear.
	Daddy Rick guided Fawn (with her pants down) around his knees to the other side of him whereas her backside (and ass) were up closer and personal to Marshall.  Then she was pulled down across her Daddy’s lap.  Rick began smoothing his hand about his child’s ass, patting it all over and increasing Fawn’s embarrassment.
	There was movement going on—Fawn could hear but was facing the opposite direction and couldn’t see.  Also, Daddy Rick began moving but kept Fawn across his lap.  Fawn wriggled and had to raise herself up a bit as Daddy Rick had undone his pants and worked them down along with his underwear.  Just looking over her shoulder thru her hair she saw Marshall with HIS pants down and sitting back at an angle masturbating!
	The fullness of what was in store for her became apparent.

	More ass patting then Fawn’s panties were pulled down her legs to her bunched up pants.  Sex with Jeffery was one thing, sex with her Daddy was one thing—but sex with Marshall?  It was a little too late to back out now, though.  She concentrated on the bump in allowance and other perks.
	Daddy Rick concentrated on caressing his daughter’s ass…

*

a little soiling for everyone
	Marshall Fenton was a good friend, a new friend, Rick Figby liked.  They had met firstly at a church with Rick making the observation that Marshall was a potential pervert.  He was right of course.  The man was tall, dark hair, and had a small bevy of children.  Rick’s daughter, Fawn, knew of the Fenton children, Trish, Nellie, Molly, and Henry.  There were many children of various ages at the church in the downtown city area.  Rick’s daughter knew of them and Ricky wanted to know of them…
	Having one of those illegal to posses electronic mind altering devices could make “knowing of them” a done deal.  Rick, though, was nervous and afraid to make use of the illegal minding device he had.  When the mind altering device first came into his possession he naturally thought of using it against his daughter’s mind; however, little did he know the girl was naughty all on her own.
	He knew she wasn’t so much into having Marshall join in on their private pleasure time—but it was one more way to ensure that new friend Marshall was on the up and up.  Of course, Rick really was already in the know that Marshall was just as perverted as he himself was—after a few times of observing Marshall at church and Rick was pretty certain of his fellow church goer.  A little preliminary test was in order, though;
	Marshall Fenton had three girls and one boy.  The boy was the youngest at a mere six years young.  Trisha was the oldest girl at thirteen; then Nellie at ten and Molly at a lovely eight.  Molly had light brown hair, Nellie’s hair was a shiny honey blond while Trisha had long luxurious strawberry blond.  She was tall, a little taller than most girls in her age group; a nice set of beginning teenage breasts; and a shapely body of which her ass was a nice asset.	
	It was the observation of Trisha’s ass from Daddy Marshall that caught Rick’s attention.  Rick wasn’t so sure if the man was merely “checking” his daughter’s ass, staring, captivated, or merely “lost in thought” with his eyes happening to be locked on his child’s butt.

	More observation was needed—just to make sure.
	Marshall not only “checked” his daughter’s butt but the butts of several other girls her age and thereabouts.  One particular observation had Marshall “checking” daughter Trisha as she was clad in semi tight jeans; when she stooped down to pick up some spilled papers—that area behind where the pants open up to reveal a casting glance by chance—Rick was pretty certain.  Marshall seemed to have “wood”; was embarrassed, nervous, and had a serious “want” in his eyes and actions.
	Further observations revealed Marshall as a potential in-the-closet pervert.  Rick decided to find out.
	The two already knew one another—mostly thru Rick’s daughter involved socially with Marshall’s kids.  One Sunday morning,
	Marshall’s daughters and son were all over the place during the intermission—that period between First Service 8AM to 9AM and Sunday School for both children and adults, Trisha bent over to help a sibling with her dress.  Trish was not in a dress, her parents were not staunch advocates about how to dress for church.  Marshall himself did not always “dress up” so it was ok if the children did not do so as well.
	Anyways,
	There she was, Trisha Elaine Fenton bending over straightening out the dress of rambunctious Nellie Jane—and there was the opening of Trisha’s pants at the back—and there was her dear Daddy sneaking a peek down the crack.
	And there was wood.
	Marshall had wood, too.
	Trisha had a nice bod and Rick Figby more than once considered utilizing that little minding gimmick he had in his possession to sway her somewhere privately.  He betted that she was a virgin—but wouldn’t be surprised if she weren’t.  An ache began deep within to have her for a few minutes privately—the image of her Daddy right close masturbating while he (Rick) fucked the girl’s brains out filled him.
	Marshall was seen to casually gouge the heel of his hand to his bone.
	After young Nellie made splitsville and scampered off to play before Sunday School session began, Marshall hugged Trisha.  They talked and were facing one another and there was Marshall’s hands on his daughter’s backside—roaming-roaming-roaming.  And inching—inching—inching downwards to the girl’s butt.
	He paused at the small of her back—half an inch or so from the top of her pants.  Rick saw the man’s face—it was agony.  It was a deep-deep ache.  A want.  A want to have his child naked.

	Rick knew and understood the man’s dilemma as he himself had had that same ache with his own child, Fawn.  It was not so long ago that Fawn was prancing about naked or in her panties—and it thrilled Rick greatly.  Somehow he had managed NOT to molest the girl; he bathed her, wiped her, heard her rip some narly butt blasts, but had managed to sustain himself and keep his perverted desires at bay.
	As she got older, though—the illicit desires began fester.  With the divorce from his wife, Plaintiff, and the pursuit of other opportunities (job wise) the unnatural want(s) were erupting.  ‘do it—do her—do it now; do her now!’ his pesky inner voice told him.
	But he knew that once he was away from his girl the demon within him would be curbed.
	Then there came the EMAD.
	And just when he was beginning to understand the Devil’s Tool up and came his daughter being naughty on her own!  It was a pleasure he could never even imagine.  Their love though lustful very much cemented their relationship and made ten times all the better.
	Now there was Marshall.
	“Hello!” Rick said in greeting.
	The two men shook hands; it was evident that Rick had caught Marshall off his guard—interrupting his personal thoughts.  
	“She’s nice.” smiled Rick indicating Trisha who was giddy and leaning up against her Daddy, swishing this way and that being silly.
	Marshall nodded; he was sweating and appearing to be quite nervous.
	Trisha quickly was absorbed by some other girls.
	“Hmmm, they nice, too.” that comment was more pertinent driving home the thought touching a sexual note.  Marshall looked to the three girls with Trisha—his eyes going up and down their lovely teen bodies and the “want” was all about him.
	“Something to be said bla-bla-bla--” Rick’s words were lost to thought as Marshall seemed to be in agony and then two fellow members of the church interrupted in.
	Sunday School began and not wanting to waste a moment—and being quite hard himself caught Marshall,
	“You know, if we had a minding device these girls here could be in trouble!”
	Marshall smiled—his mind was perplexed.  A minding device?  Those things were illegal but just as available as handguns.  The two men left the enclosed foyer and stepped outside where a small herd of young girls went racing by to reach their classroom.
	“Oh shit,” breathed Rick, “what I wouldn’t do to have some of them in a room to ourselves.”
	Marshall nodded his head and coyly re-gouged the heel of his hand to his throbbing boner.  His agony was growing.  Though time was tight, Rick continued his banter talking with Marshall about girls and minding devices and private time.  Every once in awhile a girl of some age between ten and fourteen would walk by them causing both men to drool lustfully.
	For forty-five minutes the two men yapped, had coffee, and became deeply aroused for the young bitches at the downtown church.  Then there was the ten minute break between the Sunday School time and the Second Service.  Time was getting away from them—
	Trisha found her Daddy, they embraced and Marshall was about to explode—in all kinds of ways.  Rick had learned thru subtle admission that Marshall was a perv.  A quiet in-the-closet perv; he was married to a very nice woman, a stern woman, a woman the daughter of a major agricultural big wig.  Being a pervert with her was a no-go.  Marshall had sisters, one younger and one older.  When they were kids they had sex—in all kinds of ways.
	He missed that.
	Only a couple of times since after they had been married at a family reunion and a social visit did the married sisters and Marshall re-engage in sexual frivolity.
	“Anything with their kids?” Rick had to ask.
	“They were too young yet.” Marshall said—and he sound disappointed.
	Not knowing their ages right off, Rick asked, “Well, if your sisters would have not minded—would you have cared how young they were?”
	A slight hesitation; then, brain lock.  Wah-oooaughoaua!  No answer.
	Let’s move on.
	“If you could get away with something with Trisha, would you?” it had already been established that he had NOT-NEVER-NO HOW done anything sexual to his children.  However, not that they were aware of.  When they were sick and spaced out on cold medicines—then—THEN he managed to “get away” with a little hanky and a lot of panky.  It couldn’t be helped, his inner demon was rampaging with incestuous eagerness that simply could not be curtailed.
	“What did you do?” Rick wanted to know.
	When Trisha was ten and had a bad cold she was whacked out on cold meds.  Mommy was at work leaving dear old Daddy at home to care for her.  He did.  Along with taking her pajamas off and …

	And?
	And what?
	“Did you hump her?”
	“Yes.”
	But not IN.  The tidbit of naughty info was revealed later, in Rick’s apartment with Fawn.  Marshall, after undressing his little girl, fingered her bald pussy, raised her legs and lightly spanked her, then found himself on top of her grinding his cock against her unfucked cunt soiling it minutes later.
	More than anything he wanted to get off in Trisha.
	“Pussy, mouth, asshole?”
	“Yes.”
	“Nellie, Molly, Henry?”
	Again, “Yes.”  No hesitation.  Marshall wanted to jack off onto his naked son’s cock and balls and watch his sister, Trisha, Nellie, and Molly lick the boy clean.  And for that matter, he wanted to see his OWN sisters suck the boy clean!  He was about the age when his own sib, Sharron, had began coercing him into being naughty with her—she was ten at the time and he had been a mere boy of six.
	Anyways,
	Trisha was a little flirty but not naughty.  She DID let her Daddy pat her butt and she DID let him see her in her undies (and less!)  But there was a modesty factor—the glimpses of her nakedness were to be brief and thusly regarded as “no big deal, he’s my Dad and it’s ok.”
	“Well, if you COULD get away with something with her, would you?”
	More brain lock—the man’s eyes shifted all over in a wild perplexing manner of deep thinking that was hemmed in by the moral venue.  He couldn’t molest his child—he shouldn’t even THINK of molesting his child.
	“If I could get away with it?” he queried.
	Rick smiled, “Yeah, like say with one of those minding things.”
	“An EMAD?” Marshall was more than interested and a whole lot curious.
	Again, Rick smiled and on a chance opened his sport coat to reveal tucked in a pocket a fancy remote control device.  Marshall’s eyes widened.
	“You’ve got one!”
	Again, Rick smiled.

	Target One had flaming red hair, a slouched stance, tight-tight jeans, short green top with a big daisy and a bee on the front.  Tits weren’t bad and the ass was small.  Long slender arms and legs, super skinny bod overall; braces, freckles, no jewelry anwhere.
	Target Two was about fifty pounds overweight.  Nice face, though.
	Target Three had bouncy sandy hair, decent body overall, a yellow top and semi-tight jeans.
	Children Nellie and Molly had gone to Children’s Choir while Henry was stuck occupying his Mom’s attention in the main sanctuary.  Daughter Trisha was once more up against her perplexed and confounded Daddy.  The three of them were way down at the end of the open courtyard juxtaposed between two two-story classroom buildings running the length of the courtyard being about 125 feet long.
	The church had a parking lot on the right and left with an overflow to the rear.  Beyond the rear situated lot there was fencing and a large open nature area.  Mostly logs and other assorted debris were piled up along both sides of the fencing.  Rick had a mini RV there, 20 footer, cab-over.  
	At the small steps down to the wrap-around sidewalk of the church the trio paused while Rick “proved” to Marshall he was on the up and up.
	When the coast was clear, out of prying eyes of people and electronic eyes on the corners of the building—Rick reached out and squeezed Trisha’s breasts.
	The girl didn’t react—not like she should.  Trisha remained quiet, calm, and mindless.  Rick sighed, he had not had the EMAD too long and only recently gained enough knowledge on how to use it.
	Marshall was awed and then some.  He himself “reached around” and cupped his daughter’s breasts.  Rick was pretty much convinced—but Rick wanted to make sure—and abruptly put his hand to the girl’s crotch.  
	Standing with them was Target Number Three, Allison Dillwicky.  She was fourteen and quite the cutie.  Rick “touched” her breasts, too.  No reaction.  Rick reached for and cupped her butt and then with the other hand seriously fondled her crotch.
	No reaction.
	The group moved to the RV.
	“We don’t have much time,” Rick said as he closed (and locked) the door.  Marshall nodded, “Ok.”  The EMAD was brought out to full view and put thru its paces.
	Immediately and there was a slight problem.
	“What’s wrong?” Marshall asked.

	“Well, it has her brain wave pattern,” Rick said of Trisha, “but that’s about it.”
	“What else is there?”
	“Well, there’s a way to manipulate those captured brain waves.”
	“Manipulate?  How?  To do what?”
	“Well, to have the Subject act out, to “do things”, submit and so on.”
	Turning his attention to Allison and Rick did press some buttons—
	To Marshall and especially Rick’s surprise—Allison Dillwicky pulled off her bright yellow top with frills and dropped the garment without hesitation.
	Marshall was totally captivated.
	Rick pressed more buttons and Allison D unhitched her bra then shucked her jeans and panties.
	Marshall was about ready to pass out.
	“And you cant get her (Trisha) to do that?”
	“Nope,” Rick replied, “everyone’s brain waves are different and so are these things (EMADs) and I don’t know the pertinent idiosyncrasies of the minding device.  There was the knowledge of turning it on, working the sensor keypad, capturing a brain wave or two, and that was about it.
	Marshall just stared and stared at the naked Allison.
	Rick stepped up to the girl, waved his hand before her face, then slap-spanked her ass.  Nothing from the girl.  Her pretty eyes remained steadfast blank.  Rick drew a finger up her gash, mauled her breasts, then put his mouth over hers, scooped her up and worked off her bunched up pants and panties.
	Marshall could do anything he wanted to Trisha.  He chose to undress her then lay her out on the rear bed.  Rick had Allison laid out on the side sofa.  So enamored with his naked child that Marshall could only look her over.  She had certainly grown—he had seen her in a swimsuit but had not really “seen” her.
	Rick was with his pants and underwear down and on top of the hapless-mindless Allison.  On top of and IN the girl.  Marshall watched the rape then found strong feelings erupting within himself.  He fingered Trisha, cupped her breasts, but for some reason couldn’t get on her let alone IN her.

	Though Marshall didn’t get naughty with his daughter, Trisha; he seemed to have no compunction about doing so with Allison.  After new friend Rick had his turn—sloppy seconds.  Marshall scooped up the girl’s panties and wiped her cum laden cunt clean, then climbed on her and drove his manhood straight into her sex.  No hesitation.

	With his eyes closed it was probable that he thought of putting it to his daughter instead of the girl he was pumping furiously.  He never slowed and never looked over his shoulder; if he had he would have seen new friend Rick on top of Trisha.
	Rick didn’t penetrate Trisha, she was a virgin.  He laid his pipe against her slit and humped a good hump shooting a nice wad up her stomach; then he raised his ass and jacked off squirting the rest of his love goo all over her fuzzy snatch.  Nice!

	Marshall was just about out of his mind—the possibility of actually screwing his daughter (daughters) was suddenly all too real.  His hidden desires were suddenly there for him.  It was more than mind boggling—much more.
	And doing the naughty AT CHURCH was another mind boggler!
	And the possibility of being able to abscond away with as many desires as possible only added to the boggling of the mind.  Rick was also aware of that—and realized the danger of the EMAD.  It was one thing to have his way with Trisha and Allison, but every girl—virtually every girl of every age?  Wow—now THAT was a mind boggler.
	At Marshall Fenton’s house—Rick was there for dinner (but much-much more.)  There was no hesitation (on Rick’s part.)  Upon arrival and introduction to Susan, Marshall’s wife, Rick quickly zapped her mind stunning her in the living room of the grand two-story home in a nice-nice area of the city.  
	The kids were upstairs in their rooms playing.
	The Fenton home was nice; big-big living room w/fireplace; huge tapestry on the wall, huge mirror on another wall; nice-nice tapestries on the floor; slate flooring; very nice furniture; and a grand piano in a glass alcove.  Rick checked Marshall and Marshall grinned sheepishly.
	Rick got the conveyance from his friend “Go ahead.”
	So he did—zapping Susan was only the beginning.  The deed was not to settle her mind to blind her from what Rick’s purpose of being in the Fenton home was actually for.
	And Rick smiled as he made note of something on the illegal minding device—
	Pressing some sensor buttons he reared back proudly watching as Marshall watched his wife undress herself.  The minding device worked differently on all peoples—some were more susceptible to the quirkiness of the electronic mind walloper and some were not so much.

	Once Susan was naked, Rick fished out his cock and blatantly masturbated.  Marshall followed suit.
	Rick moved up against the woman, perused her fine naked body then cupped her breasts, squeezed the nipples, then began fingering her furry cunt.  Marshall just couldn’t believe it.
	Then, with Susan sucking on her husband’s cock—something she NEVER did, Rick took the woman from behind as she was on her hands and knees.  Susan was none the wiser; her 38 yr old mind was totally controlled.  The woman wasn’t a bad dish; short dark brown hair, brown eyes, clean complexion; she was a stern woman but had a happy-go-lucky side, too.  It was being raised in a very well-to-do household that had shaped her into being stern.  
	Rick pumped steadily into Susan’s backdoor—pulling out to stuff her fur burger, too.  Though not a blow job giver per se—she knew what one was and performed the act splendidly.  Marshall was totally blown—physically and mentally.  Susan seemed almost an expert cocksucker; Rick was unaware of the Q&A feature of the EMAD or the tawdry side of Susan Anne Fenton could have been learned.
	Oh well.
	Marshall went several minutes before releasing his love juice; a great quantity filled her mouth (she didn’t gag or choke or even retch!)  More love juice came to squirt on her face with Marshall pressing his swelled cum squirter against his wife’s face.
	Upstairs and the girls, Nellie and Molly were in their room playing with their brother, Henry.  Trisha was in her own room on her bed on the phone chatting away with a girlfriend.
	Trisha, already touched by the EMAD, was nailed first—and how!
	There was a long wait—though, the girl was chatty-chatty to her girlfriend causing her Daddy to interrupt and get the girl off the phone.  Then, while she was distracted by a convo with her Daddy—hiding in the hallway at the partially opened door, Ricky zapped the girl and was pleased with his efforts.
	And unlike before at the church whereas just merely zapping the girl’s mind was all that there was—Rick discovered that the second go had a more umph to it enabling new commands for the girl to follow.  That meant that she could undress herself.
	Marshall and Rick watched as the girl with no hesitation stripped off her clothes then followed up by laying on her bed continuing to follow the prompts from Rick’s minding device.

	Rick was pleased—Marshall was more so.
	After laying down on her bed, spreading her legs, Marshall was beside him.  Rick took it all in and easily put the girl thru her paces—fingering herself, raising her legs, turning over and spanking herself, spreading her cheeks, and so on.
	Trisha’s room was a blue theme—in colors only.  No nautical, religious, or jungle.  Blue.  Powder blue and other shades; the bedding, carpeting, walls and ceiling.  She had a nice desk, computer, bookcase, and a nice fish tank.  On the ceiling corners was a large green fishing net containing a varied amount of plush toy animals.
	At length and did Rick have the girl get on her knees and work out of her Daddy’s slacks his cum squirter.  Marshall’s cock had already delivered a substantial amount of jiz but was ready to give more.  The nakedness of his daughter was fantastic!  
	With no hesitation, Trisha took her Daddy’s steaming schlong and popped it into her mouth.  Had she given head before wasn’t known but she did a nice job.  She talently rolled her tongue about the super sensitive crown, diddled her tongue into the piss slit, then snaked the schlong into her mouth.
	And once more, Rick positioned himself behind the girl easing his throbbing erection into the girl—plugging her asshole first.  Again, it was indeterminate whether she took dick in her ass (or pussy.)  Rick didn’t know or cared and humped a good hump while the girl’s Daddy released his love cream for a second time.
	In Nellie and Molly’s room the girls and their brother played some game known only to them.  Daddy Marshall once more interrupted in, distracted them and viola!  they were mindless subjects.
	It hadn’t been exactly determined if whether or not Marshall Fenton was a serious perv, one who likened to be naughty and how! with wee little girls and or boys.  And of course, there was his children, too.
	Once the kids one-two-three were settled, Rick trained his attention to ten year old Nellie.  Marshall didn’t seem to have any care one way or the other.  Rick boldly undone his pants and stepped out of them then became completely nude.  Marshall slowly did likewise.
	Nellie, Molly, and Henry remained still and quiet.  If not for anything else the EMAD got them to be still and quiet!  Rick stepped up to the lovely Nellie.  She was ten and lumpy.  Short blue pants, a short blue top, long bouncy blond hair with blue ribbons.  A gorgeous little girl and Rick took her hand having her grasp his cock—then kiss it.

	Marshall stood right close slowly methodically masturbating.
	After about a minute and agony was with both men, Rick worked the magical minding device and Nellie began undressing herself.  All eyes were on the girl—their puds becoming harder than ever; especially when she got down to her purple panties.
	Both Rick and Marshall loved seeing young girls in their panties.  Rick had always admired his own child, Fawn, clad merely in hers; Marshall secretly enjoyed his girls when they pranced about unknowingly turning their Father on.
	After much ogling the command was sent to Nellie who slipped her panties down and there she was—nude.  A moment had to be stolen to ogle the girl in her skin.  Then she was settled onto her bed, legs open.  Marshall took first dibs—being that it was his daughter.  He applied tongue to her hairless poon and Rick had Molly undress.
	With Molly, though, she didn’t fully comply.  Her mind was captured but that was about it.  That was ok, Rick undressed her while her Daddy rode her sister’s cunt.  It was clear to Rick that given the go—Marshall WOULD stick the girl and fuck her brains out.
	Rick had no problem with that.
	Already armed with the knowledge that inducing some level of pain—like breeching of a virgin poop chute and/or pussy, did not linger upon the mind of the person being breeched, Rick took Molly’s legs and raised them.  The angle of the dangle pleased him—her young eight year old pussy and asshole right there for the taking.  He laid a hand to the girl’s ass—one swat then checked her face and the indicators on the EMAD.
	The pretty eight year old who could play the piano better than her sister, was a math whiz, still wetted the bed, and had a lovely-lovely face exhibited no outward facial expression representing the knowledge of being swatted.  The indicators of the girl’s captured brain waves also were negative.
	Rick swatted her again and then once more.
	Marshall was gliding his cock up and down Nellie’s cunt with a strong-strong desire to poke.  And it mattered not that she was ten OR his daughter.  Rick pulled Molly onto his lap and held her gliding his cock hard against the child’s cunt.  As Marshall “poked” Nellie, Rick knew that the minding device that had paved the way for this torrid episode to play out was indeed a dangerous thing.

	A week later or so and there was Marshall at Rick’s apartment “poking” Fawn.  The destruction of Marshall’s family had been accomplished—they were all sex slaves to Marshall’s want and desires; Rick was involved and both men on a semi regular basis double teamed Susan and Trisha.  Nothing was held back; the degradation of the Fenton home was set.  Only to Trisha had Marshall actually “poked” as in penetrated other than in the mouth.  To Nellie and Molly it was just humping against their poons.  He enjoyed spanking them, squirting his personal love juices onto their sweet faces, having them suck his dick and go about the house naked willy-nilly.
	To Fawn, Marshall caressed her willing ass, fingered her hole, and marveled that the girl was submissive and not effected by her Daddy’s minding marvel.  He had only begun having his way with his family, poking Trisha and humping against the others.  With help of Rick’s EMAD the family willingly did as they were tolt to by their Daddy/Husband.  ‘Get naked.’  ‘Suck me.’  ‘Bend over.’ Submit—submit—submit.
	Sliding into Fawn’s ass and Marshall was more than pleased.
	Fawn tolerated the ass-ault but didn’t really particularly appreciate it.  She hoped her Daddy didn’t bring anyone ELSE home for her to please.   He didn’t—and that was a good thing.  Fawn slowly warmed up to Mr. Marshall, she willingly sucked his dick off, sucked his balls, and let him into her pussy and asshole.  She even let him spank her and she liked it!  Soon she was being naughty with the Fenton children; prompted by her Daddy, Fawn licked out Trisha’s cunt.  She also tongued Nellie and Molly AND sucked off on young Henry.
	And with young Henry—Fawn had full sex.  The little boy of six years had a nice little willy and once thoroughly sucked it was hard enough for action.  The little boy was schooled and soon was fucking his sisters as well as Fawn.  Marshall and Rick were well pleased.

Gail Genis
	(four more girl scouts to go before the cumulation)
	Gail Genis had two sisters, one older—one younger, and a single mother.  The girls’ father was still around but had a new wife and a baby on the way.  He was alright as a fatherly figure, but liked to sleep around and not work—two things Gail’s Mom detested.
	Gail’s Mom, Melanie, was working on being a full fledged teacher.  She already home schooled the girls and was a part-time teacher at a nice 1,000 member church.  And being a teacher and regular attender, certain perks were allotted to Melanie and her children; like housing.  The church had small apartments for some select members at incredibly reduced rent.

	For that incredibly reduced rent—Melanie not only taught a class at the church but Opened and Locked the church up on a daily basis.  The girls collected the pamphlets left in the pews, took out the small trash bins, helped with this errand and that errand and so on.
	The church was at the end of the city by a river.  The property was rather a large lot having a grand parking lot on three sides with two two-story buildings and a gymnasium in the mix.  That’s a lot of doors to Open and Lock.
	Anyways,
	Melanie encountered a “friend.”
	Melanie—was tall.  The friend stood at 6’3” and still was not as tall as Melanie.  She was kinda “big boned”, too—but not fat.  Nice face, great attitude, beautiful hair that was way past the footballer-like shoulders.  The friend, Troy Joston, was about her age, college edumacated, military background.  He kept to himself and was a quasi loner.  After a few services and Melanie made it a point to greet/meet the man.
	They had lunch thereafter.
	Then a dinner.
	Then a dinner at her church apartment.
	A year later and their relationship suddenly escalated to new levels.
	Gail was aware that her Mom and Troy were having sex.  Ruth Anne was also aware, she was fourteen had had been seen being a little amorous with her current boyfriend—but only by Gail who would not tell.  
	Ruth Anne and Gail were also fingering themselves together but not each other.  They discussed sex and what sex acts they knew.  Gail and her siblings along with their Mother had no problem with waltzing about the apartment naked.  Ruth Anne was just beginning to explore the pleasures of fingering herself—using items other than her fingers.
	Melanie had caught the girls fingering themselves—nothing was said of it, she just grinned and shut the door!  Ruth Anne began using candles, pickles, zucchini, and bananas to simulate getting fucked by the real thing.  Gail also tried out the objects and often walked about the house with one (or two) jammed up into her body.
	And Melanie still didn’t seem to mind.
	Oh well.
	One day, Troy was over for a visit; the next thing Gail knew was that her Mom was talking to her and her sisters about S-E-X.  
	“It’s perfectly natural,” she said, “and you need to know about how to do it correctly before you get misinformation.”  

	Ruth Anne didn’t seem alarmed; Gail was somewhat sorta-kinda; Rachael had no opinion one way or the other save for the embarrassment.  The thing with the Genis family was that they were a little different to somewhat odd and not therefore the norm of other families.  Going naked in the house and with Gail prancing about with makeshift dildos in her pussy and asshole ought to be a clue.
	The discussion of sex AND associative sex acts was discussed openly with Troy right there, too.  This made Gail a little uneasy but Ruth Anne and Rachael seemed oblivious and took the information without concern.  Visual aid came into play—Troy and Melanie shucking their clothing and Melanie taking Troy’s manhood sucking it!
	Ruth Anne looked on with some awe; Rachael seemed embarrassed and fidgeted while she sat on a kid’s stool watching.  Gail seemed to be the only one fretful.  She didn’t think it was quite normal.  Sure she had seen her Daddy naked AND had heard AND seen her Daddy and Mommy “doing it.”  She had seen little boys naked and had a fair idea about the sex acts just explained to her.  (tv was a wonderful medium for explaining such things)
	Melanie had all of Troy’s manhood in her mouth.  She bobbed back and forth, cupping his testicle sac with one hand, rubbing his bare butt with the other.  Troy wasn’t a bad looking man; tall, blond, blue eyes, and had at one time been a cowboy on a rodeo circuit.  
	There were slurping sounds, smacking sounds as Melanie worked the man’s organ in her mouth; he did manage to pull out a couple of times and face fuck Melanie’s face before finally being fully sucked off.
	How much time passed from when Troy blasted off into Melanie’s mouth and when Melanie told the girls, “take off your clothes” Gail didn’t remember.  She remember feeling a strange wave of warmth kissing her sides and then she was a little dizzy.  Rachael stripped off all of her clothes in no time.  Ruth Anne was a little slower and Gail found herself undressing with her Mom’s help.
	Then,
	Ruth Anne gripped Troy’s dick; she stroked it, squeezed it, tugged it, before doing just what her Mom had done.  Melanie set right close, caressing her daughter, fingering herself, totally “OK” with the goings on.  As Ruth Anne increased tempo—Melanie probed the teen’s hole with a vegetable.
	Then it was Troy’s turn—er, Ruth Anne’s turn—er, they switched.
	Ruth Anne—with a zucchini in her asshole, laid down and 40yr old Troy “I have no morals” Joston put his tongue to the girl’s cunt and began eating her out.  Melanie masturbated the man getting him very-very hard.

	No one seemed upset, but the family Genis did take all things in stride; there had been a fire at one of the apartments they lived in; an RV they had broke free and went sailing off a cliff; their Dad’s car caught fire WHILE THEY WERE STILL IN IT on a freeway; and a number of pets had pushed off the mortal soil for greener pastures elsewhere.
	The family Genis took it all in stride—didn’t freak out, didn’t get excited.  They were a little weird.
	And Ruth Anne didn’t even freak out after being licked out!  Then did Troy come up her young teen body to began suckling on her breasts while gliding his cock against her cunt.  Ruth Anne moaned and twisted—Gail sitting behind got the bird’s eye view of penetration.  It caused her own cunny to tingle with awe and anticipation.  Just about every inch of the man’s pud went into Ruth Anne’s cunt; Gail took the image to her mind; it was the most incredible thing she had ever seen.
	Troy’s pud went in and out—in and out—in and out repeatedly for several minutes.  Then, THEN there was a huge river of cum.  Both Troy and Ruth Anne called out for God in various ways.  Troy’s cock surged, pulsed, and swelled significantly squirting a gracious load of man spunk in serious quantity.
	The man shuddered and virtually melted as he came the gusher load.
	“Holy fucking ape-shit!” he blurted.
	“Ahmmm!” said Rachael, “You said a bad word!”
	‘Bite me.’  Troy’s cock surged a little more then he finally pulled out to lay the tremendous organ against the girl’s fresh fucked cunt.  She was not a virgin but the details of who or by what was not known (not to Gail anyways.)
 	After a couple of minutes and Troy finally rolled off of Ruth Anne; Melanie went down on her daughter licking up cleanly all the spilled spunk thereon; afterwards, she and Gail sucked on Troy’s cock.
	A 69er came to be with Melanie being the half part of the 6 (or the 9).  Gail sat back fingering herself and watching from behind as Troy’s tongue licked all about her Mother’s cunt.  Ruth Anne remained laying as she was (with vegetable still in her arse and her mind obliviously oblivious.)
	Then it was Gail’s turn—that is to say after her Mother moved off of Troy’s face Gail felt compelled to move up and sit on the man’s face.  The girl was then further compelled to “go down” on him.  His cock was way sore, aching, and steaming.  The young girl put her fingers about the semi stiff prong, sucked on the head, and reeled at being licked out.

	There was a rest break, Troy took Rachael into the shower, Gail stayed out in the living room; on her back with her Mom shoving a nice cucumber into her asshole!  Gail couldn’t remember if anything was actually said—she just lay on her back pulling her own legs back while her own Mom worked the vegetable in and out of her asshole.
	Then Troy and Rachael returned.

	Gail and her sisters watched as for several seriously intense minutes the man known as Troy “put it to” their Mother (known as Melanie.)  The girls, with vegetables in their butt, watched in awe as Troy went from being on the bottom to being on top.  The couple also did it sidewise, then with Melanie sitting on Troy’s lap; then with Melanie straddling the coffee table and the sofa and Troy on the floor—she lowered herself down onto the throbbing thuster and had herself a good fuck.
	Neither Troy or Melanie had any energy thereafter, the girls removed their vegetable dildos, made popcorn and pizza, watched tv and fell to sleep.  Occasionally and did Gail awaken—to use the bathroom and whatever; she observed Troy fingering Rachael.  When he saw her observing him—he smiled and winked and went on his business of fingering.
	What Gail felt or thought about the situation she wasn’t sure.  She thought that it was wrong but if her Mom was ok with it then so should she be.  But it did make her uneasy and just a little weird.
	Cum the new morning and,
	Troy was still and so was nakedness—followed by naughtiness (after breakfast, of course.)
	Once more and did Melanie suckle on Troy’s cock; then the girls all took their turn one-two-three.  Gail wasn’t sure but it looked like Troy really-really-really liked it when Rachael sucked his dick.  Gail couldn’t rightly remember much about it—the taste of the dick in her mouth.  The man pulled out and pressed it against her face; he wasn’t rude, crude, nasty, or vile—well, ok, he was all that but he wasn’t forceful.
	But then again—he may have had help (electronical.)
	After sucking and Ruth Anne laid across his lap to be spanked.  
	One-two-three-FOUR semi hard spanks; then the man began fingering her candle fucked asshole.  Melanie got a candle and sodomized her daughter—prepping her for what happened next.
	What happened next?
	After Melanie worked the phallic in her daughter’s cornhole a good two minutes or so—it was replaced by Troy’s slicked up schlong.  With his hands gripping her ass he went all the way into her.

	While being sodomized—Ruth Anne put her mouth firstly over Gail’s cunt and made her cries therein.  Melanie sat off to one side, legs open wide—finger-finger-finger.  Troy seemed to take his time fucking Ruth Anne and so after a bit of time, Gail moved out of the way and Melanie took her place—followed by Rachael another two minutes later.
	Then Troy came.
	Gail and Rachael came at the bequest of Troy to see their sister’s smoldering sphincter and the river of cum oozing from the orifice.  Troy made a series of verbal announcements repeating them over and over as he flogged his funky schlong.  He breathed hard and sweated harder.  Then he smiled, cuffed Gail on the chin and whispered something to the effect, “you’re next!” and moved to the bathroom to clean up.
	Ruth Anne pooted, rubbed her ass, and lay in a sweltering heap on the floor exhausted as if she had just taken a major shit.  Troy returned with his cock that had been soiled fresh and clean.  It was still thick and long, but not quite as hard as it had been.  That would change as Gail took her turn laying across the man’s lap.
	One-two-three-four-FIVE swats to Gail’s tender ass.  She fussed, farted, peed, and cried out as the pain to her ass was a bit more—even more than when her Mom spanked her.  The event didn’t make her angry, just a little frightened.
	When after the final swat had come and the stinging leveled, Mommy Melanie got a candle of the right size and eased it into Gail’s crapper.  In and out it went—sometimes all the way out but always all the way in.  A phone interrupted the proceedings.  Melanie answered and chatted with whoever on the other end (her own Mom!) while Troy took stance behind Gail and penetrated her asshole.
	Gail didn’t know how to explain it—the presence of Troy’s dick in her butthole.  It was different—way different than any candle or vegetable.  Way different.  She tolerated it but it was a bit uncomfortable.  Mid way thru the ordeal—Rachael came to be before her and Gail felt “compelled” to do like she had done—put her mouth to her sister’s quim and have at it all the while Troy was “having at it” with her.
	It went on and on and on and finally the man gave a mighty umph and deposited a massive wad of clear liquid goo DEEP inside the eleven year old’s hole.  A power fuck completion then—
	Then a knock came to the door.

	Nothing like a little scare to frighten you for life; thankfully Melanie’s apartment was cluttered enough that she kept the window blinds and curtains shut so as neighbors couldn’t see how unkempt and untidy she and her girls actually were.  Troy scooped up Rachael and skeedaddled to the girls’ bedroom with Ruth Anne and Gail behind.  Melanie grabbed her discarded robe (and nothing else) and answered the door.
	No one special—Melanie stood and yapped to a fellow church member about whatever—all the while Troy and Melanie’s kids were in the bedroom—butt naked with Gail’s anal funk on Troy’s dick!  And while the convo at the door continued—Troy re-entered Gail’s asshole and re-fucked her for several minutes; reaching around to finger her pussy.
	How long it went on Gail wasn’t sure; eventually her Mom showed up and what had been going on continued.   In the bedroom progress was already thrusting; Melanie dropped her robe and positioned herself on the floor with Gail licking her out while Rachael sat squatting awaiting her turn.
	Troy finished with Gail, turned her over afterwards and went down on her pussy for several intense minutes of cunnilingus.  To describe she couldn’t, not really; it tingled and made her gush all over.  Other than that her mind was blank.
	But not blank enough to have imprinted in her mind Troy grinding against nine year old Rachael.  It was a weird thing—to see the grown man do what he was doing and Gail not upset about it.  Or her Mother; or Ruth Anne or even Rachael!  No one seemed upset and Troy went happily grinding-grinding-grinding—poking-poking-poking.
	With one hand cupping her young butt, Melanie holding one leg of her young daughter back and Gail holding the other—Troy Joston went into Rachael.

Helga Heely
	Of them all, the girls of the scout troop, Helga Heely was the most aware.  Of course, like them all—Helga couldn’t do shit about it.  The “it” referring to her being “controlled.”  She saw her friends circled about the blazing campfire; she had seen one by one the previous girls; Adel, Beatrice, Carmen, Darci, Eileen and recently, Fawn, all stand up, shuck their clothing, and lay across Ms. Humpsalott’s lap to be spanked.
	She didn’t know why—nothing was really said from Scout Master Humpsalott; the girls stood up, undressed, then laid across the woman’s lap for a brief spanking.  For some reason unknown to her, some girls didn’t strip to their skin completely, like Helga, they had pulled their tops off but some had pulled their pants and panties just to their ankles.

	Helga heard a “voice” in her head.  A drone, a deep seeded voice that almost unnerved her.  It was creepy and left as such (creepy.)
	‘take off your top.’ The Voice had told her.  And Helga there was no holding back although she thought she did—her hands went straightaway to undoing the buttons to her brown scout shirt.  Then her undershirt and bra fell away.
	Off came her shoes and then,
	‘take pants and panties to your ankles.’ after kicking free the shoes.
	Once more and Helga could only watch herself as her hands complied.
	It was such an odd feeling!  She had watched the others go thru the motions; had watched them lay across Ms. Humpsalott’s lap; watched them be spanked; then sit down nakedly and quietly without so much as a sniffle!
	Now it was Helga’s turn.
	Laying down across the lap she braced.  She stared at Fawn who also seemed more “aware” than she should and much more than any of the other girls.  Then Helga saw someone not of the camp in the bushes surrounding the camp.  No details, but someone was there—someone was there!
	Then,
	SMACK!
	SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK!
	Not hard smacks like she got from her Dad now and then but they stung her bare flesh just the same.  then,
	‘virgin?’
	The Voice invaded her mind, deeper, asking a very embarrassing and invasive question.  And at first she denied the invader with “none of your fucking business!”
	Helga Heely was thirteen, a street wise smart ass, a tomboy who played just as rough with the boys as they themselves did.  She wore pants but to be different (as a tomboy) she wore a particular dress style to confuse everyone.
	She was a stern girl, blond hair worn in tight twin braids.  She did smile now then—further confusing people who knew her.  She was a little crass—but that was Helga.
	Virgin?
	Well—no.
	At merely ten years of age Helga Heely fell in love (albeit secretly) with her nemesis, Arnold Shortman.  He was a quirky kid, like herself.  He was popular, friendly, a “do-gooder”, and usually scored very well in school (er, scholastically speaking.)

	Helga didn’t know what it was about the boy, she did note that his head seemed like the shape of a football.  She wasn’t a bully per se, but found it pleasing to pick on Arnold but not in an out and out bully way.  Helga was rough with everyone, boys as well as girls.  Not fighting, no fisticuffs, but putting them down and getting others to do likewise.
	But in actuality, she found room in her cold heart to like Football Head—and after a time she found the odd boy in her dreams.  The two DID get along; the played together—er, baseball, soccer, football.  Street games; they were from the Inner City, life was a little rough there but it was life as they knew it.
	At eleven—Helga found the pleasures of “self pleasuring.”  In doing so, her secret love for Arnold was kicked up a notch.  The dreams she had of the boy became more concise—more descriptive and focused.  Often and did she imagine the boy naked.  Naked!  It didn’t help to go with Arnold on an overnite camping experience on a nearby island and explore a cave for lost treasure.  No, she didn’t go alone—she went with her bestest best friend, a snooty girl stuck up girl, and another girl along with Arnold and three boys.
	She never heard Arnold “fart”, but; thought she heard him peeing.  Quickly and did she steal her way thru the skin scratching foliage to find it wasn’t Arnold but one of the dweeeb boys along with them.  Helga wanted to be “alone” with Arnold—just like in her dreams.
	But there was Jerald J, Sidney Fataki, Carlos Alazraqui, and fat boy bully, Harold Shrinkarrow.  Rhonda Wellington, a snooty girl whose family was suddenly on hard times after being well-to-do was a part of the group; Brooke Allan was there along with Helga’s best friend who for some strange reason put up with Helga’s verbal put down abuse.
	It wasn’t Arnold who was taking a piss in the foliage but Carlos.  He was having a good long piss and Helga could only just barely see anything important.
	That night there were farting around the campfire, some song singing, bogger flipping (into the campfire), marshmallow and wiener roasting.  Helga, being Helga, made her usual crass comments and even let a couple of narly butt blasts herself.  Phoebe being Phoebe who was Chinese in part, polite, very-very smart, held her farts in.  Rhonda, the uppity used to be high class girl also held hers in—but Helga knew she tooted a few times.
	Then there was Brooke.  Helga hated her.  Brook was “oh-so sweet!”  It was sickening—to Helga; the girl was way to prim and proper (a polite farter).  She was a country girl, also very seldom wore pants; a red haired girl who also wore her hair in twin braids.  She didn’t seem to be smitten with Arnold—but Arnold was with her.  

 	Which further pissed Helga off at both Arnold and especially Brooke.
	After the campfire shenanigans—of which Harold Shrinkarrow won hands down the Belch & Fart award, it was bedtime.  Arnold and his best friend, Jerald Johansen, shared a small tent; Carlos and Sid had their own and Harold utilized a hammock.  He was a big boy, kind of a bully but actually a softie.  He put on the bully persona because of bad parents, didn’t want to be hurt (emotionally) and other bully related reasonings.
	Rhonda and Brooke shared a small tent leaving Helga and Phoebe in their own.  Phoebe yapped and yapped and yapped—like she always did, filling Helga’s mind with useless information about “farts” and “belches”; the island, the mysterious treasure hidden by “pirates”, and on and on until Helga finally had had enough by saying “ENOUGH!” and spread her spread her legs—“EAT ME!”
	Helga wore a one piece cotton night shirt—no undies.  Phoebe wore something similar but with panties.  There was little light, only the moonlight.  Phoebe went silent and “went down” on her best friend—something she did on a regular basis.
	Helga fingered herself, especially her super sensitive little bud tucked under the hood of her cunt.  Phoebe’s tongue action was delicious and definitely put Helga in a better mood.
	Phoebe licked and licked, nipped the lips of Helga’s poon.  After a time she moved up to sit on Helga’s face.  There and did Helga engulf the girl’s cunt—sucking it thru her panties.  The girl eventually turned around and laid down Helga’s body and the two engaged in a 69er (although neither knew that that was a normal position.)  Helga removed her friend’s panties, slapped/spanked her butt but not so hard as to awaken-alarm anyone else.
	Just as Helga had gotten her friend to cum—Sid and Carlos were making way out of their tent—Harold had come in leaving his hammock finding it not as comfortable to be out in the open like he thought.  Moments after and he ripped the narliest butt blast ever driving out his tent mates.  Sid and Carlos gasped for air, cussed, and Sid was nude.
	Sid was nude?
	Yep, butt naked—he didn’t wear anything to bed and wasn’t into underwear, either.  Both he and Carlos used the abandoned hammock—after Carlos made Sid wrap up in a blanket first.  Harold then had the tent to himself—until sometime after midnight when his own funk got too much for him and drove himself out.  He was found in the morning at the campfire side with his blanket about him.

	Come the new morn and the gang assembled to tackle the interior of the cave.  Mostly they found the experience a little unpleasant—it was dark and dank inside the cave and for their efforts there was only some canvas bags of pennies.
	Pennies.
	Bank bags of pennies from a bank heist in the 1930s.
	There were six bags, Phoebe said that pennies were shipped from the US Mints in bags of 5,000 making the bags worth $50.  Each bag weighed about 30 lbs.  Six bags made it $300.
	“That’s forty-two dollars and eighty-five cents!” the smart girl exclaimed.  Divided among them.
	Of course, do-gooder Arnold chimed in, “It isn’t ours.”
	Helga rolled her eyes, Harold cried—“NOOOOO!”
	“The money is the bank’s money, we should turn it in.”
	“Maybe there will be a reward.” Phoebe presumed.
	“Probably not as much as what we’d get if we DON’T turn it in.” said Jerald.  He added, “And if we DO keep it, man, PENNIES!”
	“Hmm, he’s right,” piped in Sid, “we’re going to have a time with pennies.”
	“We could roll them up, like we do anyways, and take them to the store or bank.” mused Carlos.
	“That sounds good.” declared Rhonda.
	“I think that will work.” dittoed Phoebe.
	Everyone was in agreement—even Arnold.
	Once they had rustled the heavy bags out to their campsite—with Harold the beefy boy carrying two bags at the same time and the others struggling with theirs, the group collapsed from their dreadful (but rewarding) experience.
	It was noon type time and so the group settled for noshing—lunch.
	The group discussed how they would spend the money; new baseball glove, new pants, new shoes, a present for someone, maybe save ten dollars, a new watch—
	“Hey,” said Arnold, “if we go buying all these NEW things, are parents going to figure something’s up.”
	“Yeah, he’s right, be tough to explain.” Jerald said supportingly.
	“We ought to take it easy on the way we spend it,” said Brook, “maybe like add it to our allowance,”
	“Or say we earned it,” Carlos butted in.
	“Yeah, we’re always doing odd jobs.”
	More rousing support and discussion of being cool with the money.

	At length the group split to go off for their final day; they had to head back across the lake and to home the new day.  The “lake” was out in the middle of the city being supported by an industrial river nearby.  Due to pollution and other causes and therefores there weren’t a lot of fishing to be had at the lake.  The boys went off to one side of the cave, the girls the other.
	  “I bet I know what the BOYS are doing!” quipped sarcastically Helga.
	“What?” asked a dimwitted Rhonda.
	“Hey, look!” exclaimed Phoebe, “a spotted bla-bla-bla”
	“What are the boys doing, Helga?” asked an even more dimwitted Brooke.  Phoebe had no interest in boys and went on to chase a spotted lizard.  Helga made a motion with her hand suggesting something boys were more apt to do alone more than girls.
	Neither Rhonda or Brooke got it.
	Helga shook her head sadly, slapped her forehead; then, took the lead to sneak up on the boys who were more apt to doing something than girls.  
	Nope, not that.
	Sid was chasing bugs—he and Phoebe were into bugs.
	Harold had peed and was freaking out heading back to camp with “bugs” chasing him.  Carlos was digging for more treasure—if that treasure was to be found up his nose.
	No sign of Arnold or Jerald.
	Phoebe excused her self; Rhonda tooted but made like it was something from the woods—then she excused herself, too.  Helga was left in the company of Brooke.  This didn’t help Helga’s mood.  The camping experience was waning, but on the other hand she was with forty bucks!  Secretly she wanted to see Arnold peeing, fingering himself—laying on top of her with that football head peering down at her as he rode her into elated oblivion…
	Helga stood by a tree silently moaning, eyes closed, surreptitiously gouging the heel of her hand to her sex trying in vain to quell it.  No good, she needed—required—something a little more (and a nice dick would be awesome!)
	In lieu of dick, though, there was always Phoebe’s willing tongue.
	But Phoebe was off gallivanting somewhere chasing bugs when she should be at Helga’s side chasing her twat!
	“Ahem!  Excuse me,” said a meek voiced Brooke, “do you know how to—to—uhm, to”
	“To what?  Just spit it out why don’t ya!?” said an angered Helga.

	“Well,” Brooke tried again, “I need to—to go.”  She was pathetic, timid, shy, way-way-way too polite.  The “Sunnybrook” persona really pissed Helga off and more than once she thought of the bitch in a compromising position with a brick wall.
	“Go?  Home?  Take the trail back to the boat--”
	“No, I’m sorry, not that.”
	“Then what?”
	Brooke fidgeted and held her hands before her acting a little ansy.
	Helga smiled, but she realized it and stopped herself—her persona was not of being mousy, friendly, OR helpful.  “You gotta pee?”
	Brooke blushed and nodded her head that it was so.
	Helga shrugged indifference and then, “Why the hell you asking me?”
	Brooke looked around saying, “Well, it’s just that—well, I’ve never had to GO in the woods.”
	Helga didn’t get it (nor did she care.)  “And?”
	Brooke closed her hands, clenched her fists, then pursed her lips hard with eyes bulging.  Omitting a brief OH as in a sudden shock,
	“I’ve never done it in the woods, how-how--?”
	“Just like you do always, squat and let nature take its course.” Helga said in a gruff and turned her shoulder.
	“You don’t understand, I’ve never, how do you--”
	“Look prissy pants, drop ‘em and GO!”
	“I-I don’t want anything touching me.”  Brooke was afraid of spiders, deathly afraid.  Mice, centipedes, anything creep and crawly gave cause for the young girl to freak the fuck out.
	Helga, fuming and seconds from punching the girl, turned,
	“Ok, here’s what you do,”
	Brooke was agony, she had been “holding it” way too long and there was already moisture betwixt her legs.  But the need was great and though Helga’s suggestion was more embarrassing then wetting herself, prissy Brooke pulled her panties down from under her denim short-tall overalls.  Then she was on her hands and knees, panties off, legs spread, and peeing a gusher.
	Helga scooped up the panties (without Brooke seeing her do so) and tucked them into her pocket smiling.  Then she gazed upon Brooke’s lily white ass and the river of piss streaming out of her smooth hairless cunt.  New but familiar feelings suddenly swarmed inside Helga causing her young cunny to tingle and demand attention.
	Then,

	“You don’t happen to have any paper with you, do you?”
	“Humph!” Helga didn’t “wipe” when just peeing.  She looked around, though, and wonder how freaky the Sunnybrook farm bitch would be if Helga wiped her using poison ivy?  It was a thought but Helga selected some broadleaf leaves and without much thought wiped Brooke Allan’s cunt.
	“Thank you ever so much, Helga!” Brooke said standing up, smoothing out her short tall.  She looked embarrassed—and then looked for her missing underwear.
	(note the girl with missing panties didn’t seem freaked out that Helga wiped her pussy!)
	Helga aided Brook in the hunt for her missing undies.
	“A critter musta got ‘em.” proclaimed Helga.
	“Oh!  My!  What would a wood creature want with my underpants?”
	Helga made some snide comment but kept it under her breath.
	Then,
	“Humph,” said Helga, “looks like I gotta pee, too.” and promptly shucked her panties, spread her legs, and stood up to pee like a boy.  Brook watched in awe—not realizing that she herself could have simply done the same.
	After the yellow stream had run its course, Helga looked almost sternly at the quirky girl.  “Well?” she said.
	“Well, what, Helga?” she batted her eyes and Helga wanted to bat her.
	“Ahem!  I did you, you do me.” And she handed the prim girl a leaf.
	There was hesitation, but Helga held her pinkish knee length denim dress up and Brook wiped her.  One swath and she cast the leaf aside.  Helga and Brook locked eyes with Brook’s eyes wandering, averting the lock-on.  Then it happened.
	The two just suddenly embraced with lips locking—hands groping, hearts beating and pussies furiously tingling.  And the only way to quell tingling pussies—in place of a good dicking, was a good tonguing.  Helga was in charge and Brook was submissive.
	Off came Brook’s overall, it was a greenish color and there was a green checkered shirt underneath along with a tiny bra covering tiny breasts.  Brook said nothing—she couldn’t, Helga’s mouth was over hers and the two were in a deep penetrating smooch.
	Helga’s hands roamed all over Brook’s backside—and then down to her bare butt.  Brook offered no resistance.  Helga pulled off her own overall, shucked her panties then pulled Brook down to the forest floor and the two engaged in serious female-female sex.

	Whether or not it was Brooke’s first time or not was not clear; the two naked girls rolled in the forest debris, pounding their pussies together and finally Helga got Brooke on her back having her hold her own legs back while Helga “went down” on her.
	The hapless girl had something of an orgasm and Helga ate it up—then; she moved up and sat on Brooke’s face saying—“your turn.”
	Brooke wasn’t as good as say Phoebe—but she did alright.
	Helga wriggled as he cunny was tantalized; Brooke’s tongue was a little talented and delved nicely into Helga’s sensitive snatch.  When done, or having had enough, the two lay side by side, kissing and continuing to grope one another.  
	When they heard voices they panicked and stopped.
	Slowly they scooted into the undergrowth being well hidden; and at the last moment before Football Head came waltzing in Helga snagged her panties—but on second thought wished she had left them out for him to find (just to see what he would do.)
	Missed opportunity.  Thoroughly pissed Helga off.  Arnold went by pausing a little ways away and apparently took a piss that also pissed the girl off.  When he was out of sight—Brook was in for it.

	“We got one more night,” Arnold said later at the campsite, “we ought to make the most of it.”
	Come the new morning and they would have to hustled back across the lake and to their homes.  So for their final night on the island,
	“Let’s go back into the cave!”
	“Lets look for starlings!”
	‘Let’s not and say we did.’
	“Let’s go fishing, big PaPaw is still out there somewhere.”
	A brief pause while the group mused over the suggestions.
	“Let’s go swimming.” suggested Carlos.
	“Let’s make it a bang out,” said Jerald, “let’s go skinny dipping!”
	The girls weren’t too sure, ‘specially Rhonda.  Sid, however, for the boys, was already nude with Harold right behind him charging off the small wooden dock and barrel blasting into Lake Whatheheck.
	Strangely, Phoebe followed suit leaving the rest a little stunned.
	Arnold shrugged, “What the hell.” And shucked his clothes then darted off from the camp to the dock and splash dived into the semi warm waters of the misbegotten lake.

	Rhonda shook her head declaring “NO WAY!” all the while she slipped her clothes off and dashed quickly out into the water.  Despite the moonlight there was darkness at the lake island so not really enough on “detail” could be seen.  But everyone had pretty good imaginations and details not seen wasn’t the big deal—it was just the “knowing” that the other sex was naked was the thing.
	Helga smiled meekly then shucked her clothes and barreled off the end of the dock—well, that was the intent.  She made it out to the end of the rickety wooden plank deck and promptly tripped falling cartwheeling into the not as warm as she would like it lake water.
	Brooke followed in, stepping in from the shore.
	The boys sort of stuck together, the girls ditto.  The boys farted, splashed water on each other, farted, squirted water thru their hands, farted, belched, and farted.
	The girls stayed where their feet could touch the sandy slope.
	At length and did Helga sneak her way mostly underwater to where the boys splashed and farted about being silly boys.  Her target was, of course, Arnold.  Skinny dipping at day would have been better.  Trying to see “something” underwater just wasn’t good.
	Then something brushed against her leg—long and slimy.
	Helga shot out of the water doing the Jesus Walk clear back to the campsite—which was 20 feet up from shoreline.
	“It’s PaPaw!” exclaimed Harold.  But being naked in the water where the legendary 20 foot yellow catfish supposedly dwelled somewhat diminished Harold’s enthusiasm and he, too, hauled ass out of the water.  Rhonda, Sid, Carlos, Phoebe, Brooke, Jerald, followed suit.
	No one seemed to be much aware that they were all naked at the blazing campfire—until the breeze slipped in spraying campfire embers about making everyone leap backwards and make the discovery themselves.  Then it was a mad dash back to the spot where they had dropped, peeled off, and shucked their clothing.
	Once back in their tent, Helga bonded with Phoebe but her thoughts were of Brooke.  While Phoebe lay on Helga in the 69 position, Helga’s thoughts were purely on Brooke.  She squeezed Phoebe’s ass, clenched all over, and felt strange stirrings of orgasm flushing thru her body.  Phoebe did a fair job of teasing Helga’s pussy, sure; but there was something about the Sunnybrook Farm prissy bitch that caused Helga’s poon to become more excited than ever before.

	Cpt. Fassen was right on time the following morning to take the kids from the lake island back to city turf.  Harold was on and on and on about PaPaw; Sid and Carlos disappeared quickly; Arnold and Jerald didn’t linger too long, either—eager to get home and get to wrapping their pennies.
	Rhonda and Brooke scurried home leaving Helga and Phoebe to themselves.
	“So,” said a sarcastically filled Helga, “find enough bugs?”
	Phoebe was elated that Helga was interested and went on and on and on about this bug find and that bug find and bla-bla-bla.  A little disgruntled, a little preoccupied with Brooke’s “pie”, Helga sloughed along the dingy streets of her city reaching the bus stop—just in time to see the #3 roar off in a cloud of choking smoke.
	“Great,” she bitched, “just great.”
	Five blocks down, three up, two down to her inner city brick stone home.  Phoebe lived five homes down.  Long walk.  Phoebe just went on and on, suggesting in the middle of her bug talk they could call their parents.
	“Fat chance,” mouthed Helga, “my Dad’s at his precious car lot,”
	“And your Mom?”
	“Humph,” snorted Helga, “she’s a space case and couldn’t find her way out of the drive way!”
	Phoebe’s parents both worked downtown and wouldn’t be able to tear themselves away, either.  So the girls walked—Helga fumed and Phoebe continued her banter about the lake island insects.
	Coming to Pastori’s Pizza Parlor the girls didn’t pass.  The counter clerk wasn’t to thrilled with the mountain of pennies to be counted but they were legal tender.  She firstly wanted the girls to go home and roll them in paper wrappers—Helga refused and demanded the manager.  Phoebe pointed out the “legal tender” status of the pennies and more bla-bla-bla legalize.  
	End result?
	The girls got their pizza, a free soda, and tokens to the arcade.
	The counter clerk got a chewing out and it made Helga’s day.

	Two blocks from Phoebe’s home and the girls took a detour to avoid road construction and some older boys and girls lingering at a stoop of a townhouse on the same street of Helga and Phoebe.  The detour took them to where there were some regular-normal homes rather than the multi story townhouses.  Single and two story homes occupied a block space; they had yards, long driveways, garages, the works—and some with POOLS in the backyard even!

	“Isnt this Mr. Drisscoll’s place? Phoebe asked as the girls made way up the alley.  The backend of townhouses were to the right, the block of regular homes were on the left—and alley separated the differences.  The third “house” down was the home of 6th grade Public School 111’s Math/Science teacher, David Drisscoll.  Helga loathed him and dreaded the day she would wind up in his class.  Phoebe, of course, loved him.
	He wasn’t a bad man—in the looks department.  Tall, dark hair, lots of dark hair to his shoulders—with a glimpse a time or two of an earring in his ears.  He was hip, street wise as the kids he taught though he was not from the city but a small farm in the middle of the country.  Most kids liked him and most kids managed to pass his class.
	Helga didn’t know much about him—but that was to change.
	Most the homes along with alleyway had high questionable wooden fences, some had cinderblock fencing, and a then there was simple chainlink.  Mr. D had chainlink.  In the backyard was a small playset, it looked old with only the swing set part useable.  No other toys were seen but there were indications of a dog—but it wasn’t seen.
 	Then there was the a pool.
	It was small, maybe twelve feet across and four feet deep, and above ground.  But it was a pool and a place of relief during the super hot sweltering days of city heat.
	“That pool sure looks refreshing!” quipped Phoebe.
	Helga agreed, “Come on, let’s ask Frogman if we can use it.” Helga was bold, and David Drisscoll liked frogs.
	Boldly thru the back fence the girls went, Phoebe hesitantly, but used to Helga’s unabashed boldness.  They paused at the pool that had floaties and an air mattress in it.
	“Looks refreshing!” Phoebe reiterated.  “We don’t have suits, though.”
	“Suits—schmutz, who needs ‘em!?”
	Phoebe was about to say that Mr. D might suggest otherwise when Helga already at the house had paused to peek into the back bedroom.  Then she was waving her hand from her cunt licker to come hither and come quickly.
	Phoebe did.
	Inside the Drisscoll home there was Mr. D, naked, spanking his naked ten year old daughter, Wendy!  Beside her was her, Frogman’s wife, Nancy, also naked.  It was a sight to behold—and a confusing one.  But one that made both spies a little wet betwixt their legs!

	What was going on wasn’t clear—er, why what was going on.  Mr. Drisscoll rubbed his hands over his wife and daughter, then spanked them.  The “spies” had only a backside view and Helga wasn’t impressed—she had seen her own Dad naked (front and back) and regarded it as no big deal.
	Another smack to wife and daughter—then another.  Then he sidewise turned presenting his manhood.  That got Helga’s attention.
	“Damn!” she said—it was bigger (way bigger) than her beefy Dad’s cock.  “Wow.”  The cock also went up against the wife and daughter; slap, slap, slap.  Just like that!  The sight was awesome and Helga found herself seriously fingering herself.
	More spanking—with hand and cock followed by the man putting his face between his family’s cheeks and presumably giving them a rim job!  More spanking followed—mostly by the cock.  Then Mr. Drisscoll got up behind his wife and apparently made penetration.  He began to pump and Helga began to cum…

	Helga needed dick.  And with no dick to be had she got Phoebe’s tongue to work her fevered cunt.  But dick was what she wanted—she had a wooden dick at home; a bed post with many knobs that pleased her—pleased her—pleased her.  But it paled to what the thrusting action of a real dick could do for her.  She ached—yearned—for such an action to take place.  And if she didn’t get Football Head’s dick to perform such action she was going to bust!
	Mr. Drisscoll humped his wife whilst she was on her hands and knees—all the while caressing his naked daughter’s ass right beside them.  Helga even seen the man slip a finger into the girl’s asshole!  When he finally finished with his wife, he pulled out and slapped her ass that was still reddened from his spanking to reveal a gaping “hole” with milky white goo oozing out.  The man’s cock was HUGE!  Helga swore she saw steam rising from the manly organ.  Drisscall panted and slouched taking a minute before getting up behind his daughter, Wendy.
	There was no pumping to Wendy; Drisscoll spanked his wife, ran his hands up and down Wendy’s sides, and bucked against the young girl, his only child but there was no penetration.
	That was the time Helga stopped spying and got Phoebe to lay down—and right there in the flower bed on some flagstones alongside the house’s foundation did Helga ride her best friend’s face.  She gave no thought to anyone in the townhouses who might be looking from the rear situated windows…

	When Helga was somewhat satiated she and Phoebe looked into the bedroom again—and no one was there.  “Shit!” bitched Helga.  She needed dick—Phoebe’s tongue was good but dick was better.  The girls collected themselves and returned to the alley.
	At Phoebe’s they departed, Phoebe yapped about the lake island experience, the bugs, and on and on and on bla-bla-bla.  Helga waved her off and sloughed her way to her own home.  No one was home, which was basically normal.  Daddy Bob, of Bob’s Bombastic Bombers and Used Car Lot, was at work at said Used Car lot—the Bombastic Bombers were his roller derby queens he was part owner of.  Mother Miriam was a space cadet—lost in the ‘60s.  Where she was when not in the house was a lost clue to Helga.  Sometimes she went grocery shopping, mall shopping, and then no telling where else.
	In the bathroom Helga quickly stripped off her clothing, checked herself in the mirror—made a face, undone her braids and stepped into the shower.  A hot one first—then kinda cold—then back to hot.  The handheld shower head worked great against her young cunny.  Phoebe’s tongue, and even Brooke’s tongue had been marvelous—but dick—dick-dick-dick was what Helga wanted (and needed.)
	While drying off Helga surreptitiously spanked herself.
	Her Daddy laid a hand to her when she was younger for misbehavior.  It didn’t work but he did it anyways.  Their relationship since then had dimmed and Helga had little to do with him.  She gave herself another swat and felt a strange tingling centralized in her cunny.  Another swat and then she was thinking of Mr. Drisscoll.  If she should ever get his class—she knew she could pass easily by having dirt on him OR letting him spank her.
	She wondered if she could get Phoebe to spank her?
	Humph!  Of course she could, Phoebe would do anything—anything.
	On her bed Helga continued to spank herself, then roll over and bring her legs back with serious caressing of her pussy and ass.  dick-dick-dick was on her mind.  She didn’t think she could really take on Mr. Drisscoll’s dick, but then again—she might!

	After a bath—she didn’t do showers, Phoebe relayed her lake island adventure to her Mother who listened and enjoyed the tale—minus the “treasure” find of which the young girl quickly backtracked and inserted that though there was a legend of lost treasure—none was found.  Just bats.
	Jazzed with her collection of bugs and insects, Phoebe bugged out of the house and to another friend who was also into bugs—Sid.

	Sid Fataki had a big nose, small head, hair cascading down to conceal one of his brown eyes, and had a penchant for bugs.  He and Phoebe were the only students of their public school who did.  They were a pair.  Phoebe’s Mom and Dad were pretty cool with her buggy collection, Sid’s parents were not so his collection was in the basement of their townhouse.  That was where Phoebe met him via the storm cellar entrance on the side of the four story two dwelling home’s backyard.
	Inside for over an hour the two went on and on and on about this bug and that bug and the possibility of the lake island concealing even MORE bugs possibly undiscovered.  Their heads swelled as they thought of becoming famous as result of their discoveries.
	The two took a break, had some left over pizza and sodas and discussed other topics other than bugs.  School, their friends, teachers.
	Phoebe thought of Mr. Drisscoll.  How would Sid feel if he knew about the teacher he adored?  The image was well pressed into Phoebe’s young preteen mind.  Phoebe; thick dark hair—to match her thick dark rim glasses.  For eleven, she was pretty flat chested, a little shorter than most girls in her age group.  There was a Chinese Mom and an American Dad.  Both were scientists and Phoebe was coming along nicely.  Heavy on the cumming…
	With a slight grin, Phoebe made for bathroom located in a corner of the basement.  Most days and times and did Phoebe go about in a simple barely knee length dress—color of blue.  Short tall overalls, skirts, longer dresses when appropriate, jeans and pants were a part of her wardrobe but for the most—a simple blue dress was her norm.
	Copping a squat on the toilet she let a steady stream of pee escape from her body—along with a couple of toots.  The bathroom door—not closed as per the norm but wide open.  She could just see Sid lingering at a work table in the middle of the room.  The basement housed various storage for the two families (and some past ones); parts of a canoe were there along with a pool table, tennis table, and boxes-boxes-boxes of “stuff.”
	After tooting and peeing her fill,
	“Ahem!” Phoebe said clearing her throat, “Did you need to use the bathroom, too?”
	Sid, lost in thought stepped sidewise and almost into the bathroom before realizing that it was occupied.  Sid’s eyes went from Phoebe’s quaint almost flat-flat face down her small frame to her bare legs and panties at her knees.
	“Whoa!” he coughed and sputtered.
	Phoebe giggled, shrugged and locked her dark eyes on Sid’s crotch.

	Sid looked around for a security check,
	“Here?  Now?” he quipped questioning Phoebe’s choice for shenanigans.
	Phoebe smiled and nodded quickly, “Sure, why not?”
	Sid looked around once more then freed his aching pud from his typical black jeans.  Sid was alright, slouched shouldered, very thin, limber, nimble, BIG nose, small eyes, and a bit of a bigger dick than most boys his age.  Phoebe, like most girls, loved dick.  Sid’s dick was the only dick, though, Phoebe had grown to love.
	Once the little monster was out, Phoebe took it in one hand and began to masturbate it while her other hand fingered herself.  Sid kept vigil to make sure no one came in on them; one time while being naughty with Phoebe they had been in the hall bathroom across from her bedroom supposedly alone.  Supposedly.  But a parent came home and Sid had to hid in the shower, naked!
	It was an experience he did not wish to repeat—ever!
	Phoebe seemed to have a hand manipulation technique that brought Sid’s attention back to her.  They had only recently begun to be naughty together, this count being the third time.  Soon and talented bug lover Phoebe had Sid’s complete attention.
	From masturbation to engulfacation.  Sid’s balls cinched up tight, his young tight almost no-ass tightened up and his mind went zowee as Phoebe’s mouth sucked in his cock like a snake devouring its meal.  The sensation was sensational.  Sid’s eyes fluttered, his heart fluttered, his cock fluttered!
	Phoebe manipulated Sid’s balls and took in the entire length of his four incher.  A big nose didn’t necessarily mean a “big dick.”  But she sucked-sucked-sucked it until Sid was freaking and pulled out.  That’s when the orgasmic juices squirted out splashing onto Phoebe’s face.
	Phoebe Lhadreyh was a strange—very strange girl.  Taking Sid’s schlong she rubbed it all over her face, jerking it off getting every bit of his cum on her face.  Sid was just about done in but Phoebe was just beginning.
	While studying life cycles of this bug, that insect, the culture of the Mayans, the buggy girl discovered sex—in text only.  In further readings in comprehension levels far beyond her level but she read them (and for the most part understood them) anyways—discovered the joys that was sex.  Personal sex, bondage, sex acts, and so on.
	With one fluid motion Phoebe removed her dress.  Her panties were slipped off and she was nude.  What was a hapless guy like Sid Fataki to do?  He shucked his jeans, undies, and shirts and was nude himself.

	Phoebe laid herself out on the floor; Sid, unawares of sex acts other than the straight forward Man on Top, mounted Phoebe grinding his cock against her—just like he had done the last couple of times but always got interrupted before actually completing the deed (like penetration.)
	 Phoebe seemed lost in thought and was barely aware of the dicking she was getting.  Sid grunted, sweated, and pumped her young cunt with much vigor and vim.  The next thing she knew she was on her hands and knees and Sid Fataki behind her schlepping his salami into her cornhole!
	It was a unique experience but then again—not so much as Helga had often shoved something “round” up her ass during their sex plays.  Sid had a strong grip on her hips and was plowing hard-harder-hardest.  “Take it all, bitch!” Sid was saying—however, it wasn’t so much as Sid’s voice as it was Helga’s!
	Helga.
	Helga.
	Phoebe suddenly bolted upright from her bed.
	She wasn’t in the basement with Sid.  She was in her room on her bed.
	There was no Sid.
	It had been a dream.
	“Well son-of-a-bitch!” Phoebe bitched.
	She was naked, though; her pussy was on fire, and Sid Fataki filled her mind (and soul) but not, unfortunately, her cunny (or asshole.)  It was a disappointment resorting the girl to frig herself furiously to the point of taking a makeshift dildo out of her nightstand and make use of it.  It was the top end of a four poster bedpost and did a fair job—but nothing like Sid Fataki’s cock could/would do!

*

	Her mind whirled and twirled into a myriad of feelings known and not so.  There was nothing to do but endure—and it wasn’t all that bad, anyways.  There was no thoughts given if anyone should find out—at the moment she didn’t care.
	Socks were on the paws of Tunga Super Dog, just the front ones ‘cause they were scratching the sides of Helga Heely.  The full concept of “doing it doggie style” came full force to Helga’s mind—she had seen doggies locked up in the street and had only heard human couples engaging in the same deed hence the sex act’s name.

	Tunga was Mr. Drisscoll’s three year old yellow Labrador doggie.
	Mr. D was at Helga’s side spanking her and egging on Tunga, cooing to the doggie and being naked himself.  There were no one else present.  Just Helga, Mr. Drisscoll, and Tunga.
	Tunga panted and drooled as he humped Helga’s ass; Helga felt every inch of his pink dog dick sliding in and out of her asshole.  All Helga could do was hang on and endure.
	At length and did Mr. D stand Tunga upright but kept the doggie dick going in and out of her until the animal finally “got off.”  Helga could feel the dog cum in her ass as well as feel it oozing out.  While Tunga licked his balls, Mr. D spanked Helga—spanked Helga—spanked Helga.
	The sting hurt and was uncomfortable—but aside from that it made her cum.  Her pussy tingled and rivers of her personal juices drenched her cunt and drizzled down her legs.
	Mr. D slid around inserting his cock firstly into her asshole and fucking therein for several minutes—then he pulled out and after spanking her ass a minute or so slid himself into her cock hungry cunt.
	“Take it all, bitch!”  “How do you like that?”  “Take it all!”
	Helga reached underneath her to frig herself—but suddenly realized she was on her back.  The bed squeaked and she felt a little queasy and then felt like she had to go to the bathroom. 
	Then she opened her eyes and there was Arnold, Football Head on top of her—doing her!
	“Hey!  Arnold!” she blurted but her thoughts any further was interrupted by Arnold’s dick dicking her into oblivion.  Latching onto the boy she hated openly but loved secretly the girl bound their bodies together; Helga wrapped her legs about Arnold thin frame and the fucking intensified.
	What awoke her she didn’t know.  Arnold’s ever smiling face was right there—right there in her face.  He had a mole just under his right ear; his eyes were incredibly blue.  That smile!  Straight, perfect, white teeth!  That goofy hair style!  That football shaped head!
	She felt his dick in her—she felt it pulsing, throbbing, exciting!
	Then,
	Knock—knock—knock!  “Helga, Helga dear, are you alright?”
	Miriam—Helga’s dippy-trippy space cadet Mother.
	Helga sat bolt upright finding herself in a dark room with her body pillow tight against her naked body.  “Sonofabitch!”
	‘Fuck off, Miriam!’ Helga seethed.  “I’m fine, Mother!”
	Miriam said something unintelligible and went trailing off somewhere else leaving her befuddled daughter in quite a state of being.

The proxy
	
 	The adjacent townhouse belonged to Barry Lambert; he was a nice guy, tall, blond, typical to average man in his late 30s or so.  He had been in the brick townhouse about two years, he was friendly enough—at least saying HI, smiling and acknowledging her existence on the Earth.  What he did for a living—no idea.  Was he a college man?  Had he been in the military?  What state did he call home?  
	Phoebe Lhadreyh had no idea.  He drove a foreign car, The People’s Car from Germany, wore good clothes, was always clean shaven and had a nice haircut.  He didn’t always leave his house at a particular set time, sometimes a few minutes early and sometimes as much as an hour later.  He was seldom seen on the weekends regardless if his car was at the curb or not.  No visitors.  Phoebe never-ever saw anyone ever come to his door.
	Occasionally they walked together from the corner market; Phoebe then learned the man was a vegetarian but he was set in concrete about it.  He was nice and Phoebe sometimes secretly fantasized about him.
	She did!
	A couple of days or so after the lake island adventure and Phoebe began to get worried about her neighbor—she hadn’t seen him.  His lime green Bug was at the curb but that didn’t mean much—Barry often walked or took alternate transportation.
	At length and the girl took it upon herself to check on the man.
	A knock to the door resulted in a long wait.  So Phoebe went around to the backdoor finding the door unlocked.  Worry and concern prompted the girl to barge in.
	All was quiet and still.  A little spooky.  The hum of the refrigerator and air conditioner made the only noise—until Phoebe reached the breakfast table.  Then she heard unmistakable sounds of a spanking in progress.  Phoebe was at the door when she realized—“who was being spanked?”  As far as she knew—Barry Lambert was a loner.
	Hmmm
	Was he spanking himself?  That would be weird—and not something Phoebe wanted to see.  But there was something about curiosity—especially as other noises familiar and not so tempted her.  Carefully very carefully she came to the hallway; to the left was the living room.  Down the short hall was the 1rst floor bathroom and another room—in her townhouse the room was a library.  Upstairs were there bedrooms and where the noises “familiar and not so” were coming from that would pull Phoebe further into the house she hadn’t been invited into.

	First room from the top of the landing was a bathroom.
	Second room was with door shut.
	Then a linen closet, another shut door, and half bath.
	The “noise” that had drawn Phoebe was at the end of the hall.  Inside was Mr. Lambert.  And he WAS spanking—but not himself.  On the floor on her hands and knees was a girl—naked.
	So was Mr. Lambert.
	But something was a little off—something a little odd about the girl.
	Phoebe felt a sudden strangeness that triggered a fright within her soul.  Something was really-really wrong here.  Mr. Lambert turned himself to be at an angle—there was his cock; long and hard and dripping sperm.
	The man spanked the girl’s butt, then spanked it hard with his cock.  The girl didn’t move nor speak or even whimper!  Mr. Lambert pushed his thumb into her asshole and fingered her cunt—to Phoebe, the girl was no more than ten years!   Phoebe didn’t think the man had a daughter, it was always just himself.  It gave the girl grave concern—was the girl a sex slave (obviously); a prisoner?  A sex slave prisoner?
	Barry Lambert WAS quiet and shy—two criteria for modus operandi of someone who is opposite of the persona others see him by.   He kept to himself—that was another part of the MO for a serial killer/arsonist.  Phoebe didn’t know what to think—or for that matter—do.  
	After some more spanking and did Mr. Lambert pull the girl up having her still on her knees.  Barry then stood up putting his dripping erection on the girl’s head and there did proceed to skull fuck!  
	Phoebe found herself fingering herself although she was still shocked, stunned, confused, and just a little appalled.  Barry Lambert then sat on the bed that was his—it was his bedroom having “man” things, a treadmill by the window and other assorted things making the room a man-cave and not a girl’s room.  
	Then he laid down taking the girl’s head yea her mouth down onto his prong.  With his hands on her head he moved her himself up and down giving him the essential blowjob.
	Phoebe was just beside herself.  It seemed to her as the girl child was compliant—or very well conditioned and/or trained.  In that and Phoebe was annoyed and her like of Mr. Lambert began to wane.
	A minute or so of bobbing on the man’s prong and the young girl was brought up onto the bed to lay on the naked man.  Phoebe then was able to stick her head in and see the fullness of his nakedness—specifically his very manly cock.
	And that’s when Phoebe began to cum…

	With his hands on her ass gripping, Barry Lambert moved the girl’s hips up and down—his cock already buried to the hilt in her young cunt.  There was still no movement or sound from the girl and Phoebe found herself mesmerized and thinking of herself in place of the little girl!
	Barry pulled the girl’s cheeks open providing Phoebe with the fullness of the man’s deed—the absolute penetration of his cock into the child’s cunt.  And though lo the girl wasn’t making any noises—Mr. Lambert was:
	“Oh!  Oh!  Yeah!  Yeah!  That’s it, sweetie—fuck your Daddy!”
	Phoebe was gassed—Daddy?  Oh, my!  That meant the girl WAS his daughter.  Phoebe felt a little sick, horrified, and had seriously soiled panties!  And it was no dream, either!

	Then what happened?
	A couple of days later—and Phoebe’s panties had had a chance to dry out; Mr. Lambert was at the corner open marker (farmer’s market).  Phoebe had been keeping tabs on the man, somewhat spying if you will.  She was obsessed with the man and his hidden daughter.  It was concluded that the girl was possible dumb—unable to speak.  She may, too, have other mental failings disabling her abilities to move or interact or whatever.
	“Bonjour, monsieur!” Phoebe said politely as she shuffled some fruits in a recycled paper bag.
	“Surprise tiens, tiens!  Bonjour jeune dame!” he was cordial, friendly smiling, and had some kind of secret in his townhouse bedroom.
	“Comment allez-vous?”
	“Merci, bien.”
	It was obvious the two could converse in French, so they did.  Mostly the French banter was of the produce available, and produce not available,
	“Il n’y a pas aubegine!”
	Phoebe, for one, was glad the farmers didn’t have any aubegine—eggplant.  Her Mother loved the purple veggie but Phoebe herself could do without them.
	“There’s another farmer’s market, at Fortieth St. and Diablo, the old warehouse section by the river.” 
	“I know of it, I just haven’t gone that far.”
	Their conversation over, purchases complete, the two walked in silence to their prospective homes.  Barry gave a friendly head-nod “Good by” and Phobe gushed replying “C’est bon pour la sante” (it’s good for you (for health)) regarding the vegetable/fruit purchases.
 	“Adieu.” Replied the smiling possibly psychopathic Barry Lambert.

	Another day, another night, another day—Phoebe Anne Lhadreyh was just in fits about not knowing what she knew (of her next door neighbor.)  What baffled her was the girl child, she seemed all to willing; which led Phoebe to surmise she was influenced by some means like say an EMAD!
	That or drugs.
	Or she had been conditioned to perform as her Daddy desired.
	More than once did Phoebe consider consulting Helga.  But Helga being so bold and brash would obstinately confront Mr. Lambert and demand to know what the fuck was going on.  Phoebe had reservations and didn’t want to go that route.
	Maybe a rescue?  Maybe the girl in Mr. Lambert’s bedroom needed to be rescued.  But that still said maybe.  Phoebe wasn’t convinced that degradation of society had come to the Lambert home.  She couldn’t shake it, something wasn’t right; Phoebe didn’t have the answers—the correct one, and so that put a damper on her options.
	The not knowing bugged her so much that she spent a great deal of personal time keeping tabs on her neighbor—and when he left for work or wherever he went when he left his house—Phoebe snuck herself in using a basement window.  With her small frame she easily slithered within.  Unfortunately there was nothing below the small window so she dropped to the cement floor upsetting a small workbench, paint can, and tool rack.
	Good thing Barry wasn’t home!
	“So much for being stealthy.” Phoebe said dryly to herself.  After collecting herself and putting the items toppled back in their place she scurried upstairs pausing in the kitchen listening intently for any sounds.  But there were no sounds to be had other than the refrigerator and air conditioner.  
	Although the stairs were nominal and typical—Phoebe found them to be extraordinarily longer with even the steps seemingly more difficult.  At the top of the stairs there was the hallway that also seemed to be longer than the last time she had visited.
	“Hello?” Phoebe paused at the open bedroom door peering inward carefully.
	There was no answer.
	Phoebe got a case of ansy and very nearly bolted when she somehow got a grip of herself and barged further into Mr. Lambert’s home calling out softly, “Hello?  Hello?  Anyone here?”	
	No answer.  
	Phoebe was about to leave, go home, and frig herself into a frenzy when she saw something on the floor at the closet.

	Panties.
	Blue panties, white lace, no stains, size small.
	Phoebe held them while she stared at the closed door.  Was someone inside?  The little girl?  A body?
	A bit of fear began to grip Phoebe and she began to regret her intrusion.  But biting her lip, clutching the blue undies, she opened the door and stepped back in fear.
	But nothing stirred.
	“H-hell-hello?” Phoebe asked nervously.
	No response.
	“Ahem!” she said clearing her throat.
	Grabbing some courage once more Phoebe stepped up to the open closet and peered inward.  Lots of hanging clothes, a shelving systems with shoes and folded pants, an upper shelf, some boxes left and right and a stack of blankets, too.
	No girl, no body.
	Phoebe realized she had passed a closed bedroom door in the hall.
	She was about to leave and go check out the other bedrooms, two of them, when she clumsily tripped over something.  Grabbing the doorframe lest she fall she turned on the closet light giving more light than there was.  Gathering herself once more she peered into the more illuminated closet; pushing back some clothing she found what she had been hunting for.
	“Are-are you ok?” Phoebe asked.  But as soon as she spoke her inquiry she knew something was dreadfully wrong with the girl.  Phoebe moved in closer—waved her hand before the wide eyed girl who was absolutely still.
	Fear once more gripped Phoebe—the girl was dead!

	Two days.  Phoebe avoided Mr. Barry Lambert for two whole days then she went invading again when he left for a weekend getaway to another city.  Phoebe was given the keys!  To watch the place, water plants.
	“There’s nothing upstairs to water so no need going there.”
	Phoebe’s heart was racing, she didn’t know what to say or elude to the fact that she knew about his daughter in the closet.  She promised to water the plants, collect mail and paper, and not go upstairs.
	Five minutes after Barry Lambert’s taxi had whisked him off to the airport and Phoebe Anne was in Barry’s apartment legally and hauling ass to his bedroom.
	She wasn’t quite prepared for what she found therein…

Pecker dents
	Something always interesting in your neighborhood—and Helga Heely was usually there to snoop it out.  Never know when pertinent information could be useful.  She got a bike when she snooped on a neighbor teen who was screwing another neighbor, Ms. Crawlspace.  Money, bus passes, carnival passes, amusement park passes, food, and this and that for Helga’s snooping efforts.  She was good at it and the rewards for getting firt on her neighbors was worth the effort.
	While her best cunt muncher friend, Phoebe, was doing her shtick spying on her neighbor Barry Lambert, Helga was once more up to her own tricks snooping.
	Snooping 1:  Ms. Cuntismall in the hot tub with not one—not two—not three—but FOUR high school boys.  Ms. C worked at Helga’s public school in the administration office.  For Helga’s silence on Ms. C’s hot tub gangbang all her unexcused absences were erased along with her tardiness.
	Snooping 2:  Ms. Ivanna Noballs and Ms. Sharlene Shitsnomore were an interesting pair—it was one thing to carry on with one another but to include their children?  Ms. Noballs also worked at Helga’s school, Ms. Shitsnomore worked at another school.  Both women were unmarried, or divorced or something—Ms. Noballs had a handsome seven year old boy while Ms. Shitsnomore had a seven year old blond hair little girl.  
	Once in awhile and Ms. Noballs would go over to Ms. Shitsnomore.  At once time it was just them and Helga discovered the two wallowing nakedly on a bed, then floor.  Didn’t bother Helga; both women teachers were alright but it kind of creeped Helga out thinking about having sex with either of them—although she wasn’t totally opposed.
	Then one time and did Ms. Noballs bring her son with her to Ms. Shitsnomore.  After introductions, huggings and gropings the gang went upstairs to the girl’s bedroom where she and the boy stripped off their clothes.  Both kids were embarrassed, blushing, and giggling.  Once naked, Shitsnomore put her daughter on the bed.  Ms. Noballs coaxed her son, Ralph, up onto the bed—up onto Lisa.
	Both women sat on the bed, on each side of the children, and patted the boy’s butt.  Patting, rubbing, light spanking—then,
	Then, while Ms. Shitsnomore held Ralph’s butt cheeks open, his Mom guided his little puddling into Lisa’s pussy.  A little coaxing and cooing and Ralph was well on his way in fucking.  The women continued to caress his butt, spank, and watch the action.  Then they left the kids go to an adjacent room where they undress each other and had their own sex.

	For keeping quiet about that little episode Helga got insurance against bad report cards, passes to the zoo and passes to the destruction derby that even her big shot Daddy couldn’t get.
	More snooping and Helga found Mr. Greg Zachary humping the crap out of Ms. Arlene Ditmore.  The two 6th grade teacher were married—but not to each other AND—AND Ms. Ditmore was more than six months pregnant!  On Helga’s first visit she found the two errant lovers on their sides.  Helga couldn’t see too particularly good as to what hole Mr. Z was in—she didn’t have proper angle of the dangle.
	On another visit and Ms. Ditmore was on her hands and knees with Mr. Z behind her.  Another visit and the science teacher was sitting on the history teacher’s cock and it seemed to be firmly implanted into the woman’s pussy.
	‘Going to give the baby pecker dents!’ mouthed Helga to herself.
	After confronting the two misbegotten adults with their shenanigans caught on cell phone video—this got her fifty bucks, a promise to buy cars from Helga’s Dad, a promise to keep the music department going, a little of this and some of that.
	And there were those snooping times when Helga didn’t want material things, the person snooped on didn’t have anything Helga wanted—er, in a manner of speaking.  For example:
	Logan Haskell.
	Logan Haskell was in high school, Freshman.  He had a nice body—Helga had seen him at a swim meet and what a nice body in that skimpy bathing suit!  The boy had good dashing looks, looked like a surfer dude, was friendly with everyone and had a dark side.
	Helga saw first hand the “dark side” while doing what she found as a natural—snooping.  With her big shot Daddy being a former military nut he had “connections” and thusly had the latest technology in the way of snooping gadgets—this let Helga snoop from afar an undetected.
	On the open back porch of a modern home not a townhouse was Subject Logan.  He wasn’t alone; six year old Karen) was there; a cutesy little girl with super long blond hair.  The house was of Kristi Boatass, she was a 7th grader at Helga’s school; she was nice, friendly, socialable.  Her parents had split with the Daddy in another state and her Mom marrying another guy.
	No one else was home but the little girl and Logan.
	Zeroing in and Helga observed the heartthrob Logan go to his knees before the little girl and undo her pants!  He did!  Little  Karen did nothing; she merely stood still, being cute, and being pantsed!

	Logan didn’t stop at just taking the little girl’s pants down, he tugged her panties down, too!  Helga felt misgivings and strange feelings steaming thru her body; she was aghast at Logan’s naughty business to a child—but then again not so much.
	Logan then did begin caressing Karen’s bare ass.  He pulled her to him for an intense hug, followed by an even more intense grope.  And that was followed up by unleashing his teenage dick, taking the little girl’s hand and having her masturbate him.
	He did!
	Helga continued to have mixed feelings—but did find herself fingering her own sex.  She began to wonder what she could do—but not in the thought process of stopping what Logan was doing; rescuing the little girl or telling someone important about what was happening.  No, Helga wondered how she could use what she was seeing (and recording) to her benefit.
	After a little masturbation, Logan stopped Karen and laid her out on a wicker sofa.  There he pulled her pants and panties off her ankles and opened her legs taking a long look at the girl’s bald pussy.  Helga’s fingering action intensified and she found herself with lewd thoughts—of having herself with Logan AND the little girl!
	With her legs open—Logan “heartthrob” Haskell went down on her.
	He did!
	The hi-tech gadgetry Helga had was good enough to show Logan’s tongue licking out the little girl’s cunt.  His mouth totally engulfed Karen’s poon; one hand holding the girl still while the other furiously worked his johnson.  
	Then that “johnson” was working on Karen.
	With his cock pressed against the bald pussy, Logan humped against the girl furiously.  He spanked himself, rubbed and clench/spanked his own ass, and ultimately emptied his ball juice onto Karen’s virgin snatch.  Then the scumbag crawled up onto the wicker sofa putting his cum squirter into Karen’s mouth.  With one hand on his ass and the other on the back of the little  blond haired girl’s head—he humped her mouth and face having himself another ejaction in mere minutes.
	And he still wasn’t thru!
	After smearing his prick all over the sweet little girl’s face and got back onto his knees to lick out her pussy with specificity to her equally virgin asshole.  By that time and Helga had wet sticky fingers…

	After several intense asshole licking minutes, Logan attempted the ultimate sin—sodomy.  But Karen was too young—too virginal and that penetration wasn’t possible.  He did hump against her ass, though; one more ejaculation came before he collected himself, wiped the little girl clean (of his cum), dressed her and took her into the house ending Helga’s viewing and recording of further naughtiness.

The Proxy (part 2)
	Unable to shake the strange feeling from the motionless-unspeaking girl tucked away in Barry Lambert’s closet, Phoebe once more stole into the man’s privacy hell bent to uncover whatever the secret was.  But not before once more witnessing Mr. Lambert spanking the girl and learning of the child’s name, Alice.
	Mr. Lambert was really into it—the girl on his bed, on her back, legs open wide with Mr. Lambert between her legs—his cock all the way into her sex.  No cries came from “Alice”; no noise whatsoever came from Alice.  The only noises were from the girl’s Daddy—grunting, groaning, and calling out his daughter’s name.
	Sneaky Phoebe had the full viewing of Mr. Lambert putting it to his daughter.  She was awed and very amazed watching the fucking—the man’s penis was pretty significant and she couldn’t believe Alice could take such a thing.  But she did and didn’t seem to gripe about it one way or any other.
	Barry pulled out and there was a lot of cum flowing out of the girl’s quim.  Phoebe did note that Barry seemed to have to put the girl’s legs and arms and yea her body as a whole this way and that; sitting her up, laying her down, opening her legs, everything.  The girl couldn’t move on her own it seemed.  Curiouser and curiouser.
	Barry rolled off of his daughter and lay on the bed heaving.  Then he pulled the girl onto him, gripping her ass and then spanking it.  She never moved once—not without her Dad’s help.  Something wasn’t right.  Phoebe just couldn’t finger it—she could finger herself, though.
	For a long while the two lay on the bed, then Barry moved and moved his daughter into a new position—doggie style.  On the bed this position was done, he slapped/spanked the girl’s ass and did so HARD.  The act gave Phoebe concern as there was no cry whatsoever from the young girl.  Something wasn’t right—something just wasn’t right.
	Then,
	Mr. Lambert hugged Alice and Phoebe heard him say,
	“I wish you were real!
	OH!

Spying, it’s just a part of her nature
	Obsessed with Logan Haskell, Helga Heely made it her mission in life to observe the heartthrob up close and personal as possibly close as could be.  She was fairly successful and took great risks—such as,
	Alex Beatme and his best friend’s brother, Bobby Cocksalittlesore.  Alex was a sophomore in high school; Bobby was not—Bobby was an 8th grader.  Alex and Bobby were together (seriously) with Logan in Logan’s bedroom.  Helga had been under the impression that something naughty was going to take place—Logan was going to have special “company” leading Helga to believe he was going to have that little girl, Karen, to himself.  Helga wanted up close and personal viewing, capturing “whatever” on her hi-tech video phone, and contemplate what she wanted from the heartthrob.
	With the boys assembled they talked of sports, teachers, friends, girls, and boy stuff.  Then—THEN someone unzipped and dropped his pants.  That was followed by another boy and then another.  Shirts came to the floor and then someone on their knees.
	Helga’s breath was taken as she realized what was going on.  Her vantage point was from under Logan Haskell’s bed!  It was cramped but she managed.  Very carefully she moved into a better viewing position observing with some awe, disgust, and amusement as Alex sucked on Logan’s handsome cock.  Bobby was nude and behind Alex—fucking him in the ass.
	A strange feeling swept over Helga—her pussy tingled and she had to concentrate on stymieing a pesky fart.  It wouldn’t be good to give herself away; being eleven, a girl, and equipped with a video capture phone.
	Logan grunted and pulled out of Alex’s mouth to fuck the boy’s face.  Alex had a thick mop of dark hair; Bobby had super thick blond hair.  Both boys weren’t bad looking; Alex was a little more developed physically than Bobby.   Bobby called out loudly words that were undecipherable but clearly meaning some sort of pleasure.  He pumped into Alex’s asshole hard making Alex grunt and take in wholly Logan’s cock.
	Helga noted the black Stetson hat on the bed post; cowboy pictures were on the walls—wranglers, rodeo pictures, rustlers.  Western style shirts, boots, and even a full fledged saddle was in the room giving way to the thought that Logan Haskell was a potential cowboy!
	A backdoor cowboy.
	When Bobby had gotten his nut he moved out of the way and Logan took over slamming his way into Alex’s cornhole.  Bobby went underneath Alex’s sweating body, laid out on the floor and took the boy’s erection sucking while Alex himself sucked on Bobby!
	Oh!
	When the boys had fucked themselves silly—Alex sodomizing Bobby and Logan; Logan ass plunging Alex and Bobby; Alex cornholing Logan and Bobby—they went to the hall bathroom for a group shower.  Helga took that time to get out of the house.  Her previous spying on the Haskell house told her a parental unit would be home soon and she would be trapped.
	Once home she flung herself onto her bed, stripped to the skin, and watched on the spy phone the backdoor cowboys and their antics—all the while frigging herself furiously.  A shower was required thereafter and with the images of the boys (and their antics) firmly implanted in her young impressionable mind, she frigged herself some more using the handheld shower head to aid her in her need.
	A curious set of events transpired after dinner; Helga’s Dad, Big Bob, had a present for her.  He didn’t buy it but got it thru a vendor—a new and improved cell phone with lots of whizzes and bangs.  Helga was impressed; but, in transferring info from her current phone to the new one—images she had just recorded—the Backdoor Cowboys, didn’t make it.  She didn’t know why but it was something she did in the translation.
	Although miffed she knew that she could probably recapture the event at any given time.  She was still miffed and so went to her best friend for support.  Being a non-school night the two hung out together, encountering Football Head, Sid, Harold, Rhonda, and Brooke.  The group went to a movie, the pizzeria, and video arcade to round out the night’s festivities.
	Helga’s thoughts were on the Backdoor Cowboys.  None of them appeared to be “gay.”  None of them were “flaming” homos; they all walked and talked like normal guys—how could they be so horny for the bunghole?  Helga humphed herself—she liked boys sorta-kinda and had lurid thoughts of having them (at least one) please her sexually, spank her, bring her to a new level of sexual awareness, something; but then again, she had no room to diss ‘cause she herself had entanglements with the likes of Phoebe and Brooke!
	Logan had the best body; not an ounce of fat, very lean, dashing looks, not chiseled but he was only sixteen, too.  Alex wasn’t bad himself (especially naked!) and Bobby had the youngest body and was basically a heartthrob in training.
	Phoebe.
	Brooke.
	Phoebe and Brooke.
	Brooke.

	Helga’s thoughts settled onto Brooke and that little episode they had shared on the lake island.  What was it?  Why was it?  Helga couldn’t remember the first time she and Phoebe had become cunt munchers; she had been dominant for as long as she could recount—mostly since first grade anyways.  Homelife was to blame—or a lack thereof.  Her Mom was a space case and her Dad was – was – not all that enthused that he had a daughter instead of a son.  There was a relationship but it was not all that tender.  So Helga took her lack of loving home molding it into a burgeoning bully.
	She wasn’t so much into fighting as putting down someone, being aggressive, sarcastic, and cynical.  Her words not actions propped her up to the bully status; as she got older she did a shove here, a punch there, and got peoples to fear her presence elevating her bully status.
	Then there was Phoebe.  Phoebe Lhadreyh came along in the 4rth grade and was an easy prey.  And right off the bat Helga picked on her but found the strange girl not rebuked by Helga’s bully persona but accepting of it.  There was a strange chemistry there and despite their opposite lifestyle they became friends.  Helga was the first person Phoebe invited to a party at her house.
	How the sex thing came about she just wasn’t sure.  Something that Phoebe was shy—especially in concerns about her frail inadequate body.  Helga had a flat body with “lumps.”  Other girls in their age group had a little more shape (and better lumps.)  When some of those girls made fun of Phoebe’s inadequate body at the school’s swimming pool AND made the girl feel bad to the point where she ditched the unattractive swimsuit and went to play volley ball instead of spending an hour swimming—Helga got involved and got nasty.  
	Pushing the uppity girls into the pool—undoing their tops just as they went in was the beginning.  Then she changed the locks on their gym lockers.  Then—THEN she captured the girls in question in the gym bathroom—not only visual but audible.  Helga, of course, enhanced the “audible” sounds the girls made while on the toilet and promptly posted the episode online.  Seemed the thing to do.
	Phoebe was embarrassed but thanked Helga; they became friends with Phoebe seemingly thinking she “owed” Helga something.  Helga still didn’t know exactly how it came about but remembered a special night when Phoebe was spending the night and while changing clothes for bed—Phoebe seemed impressed with Helga’s body.  A conversation came about about the fixation of self pleasuring.

	Phoebe was curious as she had only recently discovered the unique phenomenon; Helga had only found the pleasure zone herself but didn’t let on as such and proclaimed to be a “pro.”  That led way to Helga showing Phoebe the nifty techniques of finger banging.  Phoebe did likewise with limited success.  So Helga helped out fingering her new (and only) best friend.
	That led to Phoebe doing likewise to Helga.
	And that led to Helga licking out Phoebe’s smooth hairless pussy.
	Phoebe did likewise and that was that—the beginning of their sexual banter to one another with Helga being the dominant aggressor and Phoebe the willing submissive.
	So did that mean she was gay?  
	She wasn’t sure.  Logan and his Backdoor Cowboys—THEY were gay.  Gay-gay-gay.  What Helga and Phoebe did she didn’t think was all that gay.  There was no love—just lust.

*

	She was almost asleep when noises disturbed her.  She had to stretch which almost gave her away—then she had to pee.  That was a toughie and a distraction.  The “noises” were of her primary Target, Logan Haskell and someone with him.
	Not much in the way of talking; Logan came up to the bed and the other person was there as well.  Then, down came Logan’s pants AND underwear.  Helga’s pussy instantly became a swamp.  She gushed and smiled and had fingers working magic to her fevered cunny.
	The other person’s jeans also came down—along with panties!
	Oh!
	Helga pulled herself up a little further under the bed but couldn’t risk too much exposure.  More clothing was ditched to the floor then the two seemed to be merely standing together—close together.  By noting the legs of the “other” Helga determined without looking up and risking exposure that the legs belonged to a girl!
	Hmmm
	The discovery was overwhelming and caused Helga to take the exposure risk.  Peering up from the bedding hanging loosely from the end of the bed she did manage to remain undiscovered.  Logan was clutching a young girl—no more than ten.  Ten!  Short brown “sassy” hair, a round face, short nose, bedazzled eyes of the color blue.  Her top was off, along with a trainer—there were “lumps” on the girl’s chest but not much.

	Logan’s hands were all over the girl’s backside and he had to squat down some to grip her ass—and he did.  Then it was all over her naked ass, squeezing the cheeks, slipping his fingers down into her crack, and so on.
	And Logan’s cock, too, was pressing against the girl’s body.
	Helga had a myriad of feelings about the situation.  It was wrong, illegal, immoral.  It was also enticing, invigorating, intriguing.  Leaning back a little to have space between their bodies, Logan took the girl’s hand and had her masturbate him.  A sudden tingling tantalized Helga’s cunt—she wanted to masturbate Logan’s cock; she wanted to kiss it, suck it, jack it off, and have it thrusting into her tingling pussy, too!
	At length and did Logan flop his cock at the still near lifeless girl; she breathed but that was about all.  Helga was bemused and very awed at the lifelessness of the girl, “Angela.”  She only moved with Logan’s help.  Once he put her fingers about his prong and got her into the “motion” she took over doing the “motion.”  And once she was put to taking his prong into her mouth—and her head bobbing up and down his shaft she took over the deed herself.
	Then they were on the bed.
	Helga continued risk by pulling herself up and peeking—nearly getting her face hit by Logan’s feet.  But on the bed the two lay completely naked with Angela on her backside.  Logan was all about ogling the naked child, fingering her pussy with great enthusiasm.  Sperm was already squirting from Logan’s cock.  He moved into a sideways position laying almost on top of the girl but at an angle.  There he finished masturbating spewing his seed all over the girl’s cunt.
	Then he rubbed the mess with his throbbing prong all over Angela’s pussy with great eagerness with keen interest in gliding up and down the girl’s dick trench.  His cock managed to maintain stiffness whereas penetration was the end result.
	In no way did Helga lose respect for the heartthrob—she was even more intrigued by him.  There was some reservations about the rape of Angela, but apparently—Angela was unaware.  Logan was not “rough” with the girl—after cumming in her defiled cunny he used her own panties scooped up from the floor VERY nearly clocking Helga on the head to wipe clean her slightly blood coated cunt as well as his cock.
	More fingering followed.
	Then Angela was turned over and spanked!
	The spanking seriously enthused Helga—she wanted spanked.  Badly.
	Logan spanked Angela’s ass until it was very red, then he raised her hips up, spread her legs, and invaded her equally virgin asshole.

*
the proxy conclusion
	On closer inspection—the construct was of a synthetic nature and not of human flesh.  It was, in essence not dead or alive but functioning more of a doll-like being.  It was the weirdest thing; especially the sensation of touch—it was so lifelike!  But Phoebe could tell that it was not alive (but it was so real-like!)
	With Mr. Lambert out of the house for awhile, Phoebe took her time discovering the nuances of the “doll” named Alice.  It was just so fucking weird!  It was indeed very lifelike—and Phoebe wouldn’t have been surprised if the thing—er, doll, spoke.  Even batted its eyes or even farted!
	Laying “Alice” out on the floor out of the closet Phoebe was awed at just how lifelike it was—even more so with the panties on.  For a fleeting moment there was some fear—realizing that the man she knew sort of kind of she only knew “sort of/kind of.”  Was he dangerous?  Was he a psychopath?  Was he pathetic?
	Slowly and did Phoebe pull the doll’s panties down revealing it’s vagina.  Phoebe was just awed as all get out—awed at the lifelikeness, the ability to “pose” the limbs, everything.  Moving up she peered closer at Alice’s pussy; she could finger it, spread the lips open and discover that there was the ability to fuck it.
	Same for the asshole.
	Same for the mouthhole, too.  
	Phoebe lay on the doll somewhat grinding her pussy against the doll’s pussy.  There was a bit of breast but not much.  Phoebe was completely fascinated by the doll; she pressed herself against it and found herself—found herself actually KISSING it!
	She finally caught herself realizing and went “Holy shit!”
	Then she sat up and for a fleeting moment realized the draw the doll had to Mr. Lambert.  But still—it was a doll.  A doll!  Not living—not even remotely.  Phoebe further realized that Mr. Lambert was lonely.  He lived alone and stayed alone—the doll was some sort of outlet; albeit a little kinky and weird but whatever floats your boat!

	To say the least she just wasn’t the same all the rest of the day.  Or the night.  Or the following day.  Or the night following.  Mr. Lambert was on her mind—and Alice.  She had seen first hand Mr. Lambert fucking Alice.  He had spanked her, called her by name, did her doggie-style, and to Phoebe, seemed to have a sincere to unique yearning for the lifeless doll.

	Something had to be done.
	The man needed help.
	Phoebe had heard of men needing an “outlet” for their frustrations of daily strife—and sexual relief was usually the answer.  Phoebe, however, felt that there was more to it than she knew.  Somehow, she felt sorry for the man.  There was more that he was hiding than just the doll.
	She had to help.
	That was the answer—in part.
	So, before she was eaten alive with thoughts of this and thoughts of that, Phoebe made a decision.  She liked Mr. Lambert—but how far was she willing to go with that?  There was a curiosity—no denying that.  But Mr. Lambert was a man—a grown man, an adult.  Could she willingly submit herself to him?

	Wearing one of her favorite short blue dresses, Phoebe found Mr. Lambert on his back porch with his morning paper.  He was ritualistic; in the early morning hours he got his paper from the front porch and went to the back porch with herbal tea and time to kill.  Phoebe appeared, smiling, and bearing gifts—in the way of a fresh hot made cinnamon bun.
	And a fork.
	After French words of greeting and Phoebe offering the delicious morning treat—she dropped/fumbled the fork.  She did so in such a manner that the fork fell back behind her heel.  So Phoebe turned sharply and “bent over” to scoop up the utensil inadvertently revealing the fact that she had no panties on and there was her fresh young girlie “live” ass for Mr. Lambert to see.
	And he did see it, too.
	When she turned around to return the fork,
	“Maybe—maybe ought to get a new one.” Mr. Lambert said, “I-I sweep and keep floor clean but still--”
	Phoebe smiled and shrugged it off placing the not-that-dirty fork on the table.  The man arose from his chair, taking the cinnamon treat with him and led the way into his house.
	The man seemed nervous.  Phoebe was likewise but trying not to be and think clearly ahead her next moves.  After securing a new “clean” fork, Barry Lambert took seat at a small round French table centralized in the kitchen.  
	“Please, join me.” He said pushing out a wooden chair fashioned after a metal French bistro café chair.  After slicing the treat in half,

	“Uh, could you get another dish?” he said pointing to a cupboard that had a glass pane revealing the contents.  Phoebe nodded and found that she had to use a step stool and still had to stretch/reach to get the small saucer plate to serve the desert.  In doing so, of course, once more revealed to her host that she had no undies.
	Was that a groan she heard, or his chair scooting back?  (or did he fart?)  Phoebe stepped down—paused half a second and feigned “tripping” and/or stumbling.  It wasn’t too good and the fright of plummeting to the floor gripped her and she caught herself.
	With the fright over she handed over the plate and got half of the yummy dessert.  Some banter followed—about the dessert,
	“My Mom makes these, fresh, handmade, for the people in her office.” And bla-bla-bla followed back and forth with Barry filling her with information about “cinnamon”—most information she already knew but let him fill her anyways.  At length, she couldn’t hold back that she was pretty smart herself and let go the info SHE knew.
	And back and forth and forth and back like that for several minutes.
	Then she stood—her plans of becoming a proxy weren’t working out.  Then—THEN she stood next to the doll fucker and thanked him for the dessert—although she had been the one who brought the treat in the first place.  Barry hugged her—in a friendly non-creepy way.
	Then,
	Then his hug lingered.
	Phoebe in an almost clumsy manner hugged back but made it so as she was sliding down his chest.  And in a bare whisper she said,
	“It’s ok” (‘to molest me, if you want to.’)
	Barry’s hand moved in small circles about the girl’s backside; then in smaller circles at the small of her back where her shortie dress was bunched up revealing totally her entire sweet bare ass.  Phoebe positioned herself down across Barry’s lap—pulling her dress up a little more.  There was nothing to say—what was there TO say?
	And there was a little anxiety in Mr. Lambert; he swished his legs and moved his body as a whole this way and that.  Phoebe felt what obviously was the man’s cock pressing hard against her belly.  There was a tingling sensation between her legs and as she began to sneak a hand down to her delicate quim for a fingering--

	Barry’s hand moved over the “willing” girl’s ass, small circles at first than larger ones encompassing the whole of the child’s ass.   One slight swat-spank.  One squeeze of a cheek.  One gigantic orgasm in weight.  Phoebe wiggled some, mostly remained vulnerable across the man’s lap.  Then, on a fleeting thought, she moved a hand underneath her brushing up against Mr. Lambert’s pressing prong.
	Phoebe’s heart began to pound hard as she made attempts to grip the man’s penis.  It wasn’t too successful but the attempt was thrilling just the same.  Barry gripped Phoebe’s hips and stood her up—there was a strange look in his eyes.  Fear.  Fear and a myriad of other incredible emotions.
	For a long moment the two locked eyes; Barry was gouging the heel of his hand to his aching manhood; Phoebe methodically fingered herself.  Slowly she pulled her dress up revealing herself—then it was off and she was stark raving nude!
	Barry blinked his eyes, his mouth fell open, and he let out a slow barely audible moan.  “Oh my.” he said.  Phoebe cast her eyes to the man’s doings—he paused a half second then fished his manly member out for her to see.
	“Oh my!” she blurted.

	Laying out nakedly on Mr. Lambert’s bed, Phoebe had reservations.
	A little late to think.
	Mr. Lambert, also naked, lay beside her fingering her naked bald cunny.  The act made Phoebe giggle and cause her to twist and contort oddly.  Strange and unique feelings swarmed within her young body; familiar feelings were there, too—Helga could sometimes bring her to an exciting level of ecstasy that made her cum.
	And speaking of cumming…
	Phoebe felt herself at the brink of orgasmic pleasures then found Mr. Lambert on top of her grinding his manhood against her.  Glancing down and his meat stick was squirting that milky white goo called “cum” (sperm, spunk, spodie-odie, doodle juice, etc.)  Then—THEN the meat stick was pushing its way into her young delicate body.
	At first and the young girl was frightened.  This was it.  This was the ultimate.  Sex with Helga was one thing—but sex with neighbor Lambert?  Wow.  Wow oh wow oh wow oh wow—OH!
	And it was in.

	The man was gentle and pushed into her sex the head of his sex.  Then he pulled out and humped her young gash—then pushed himself back into body getting into her a little further. And repeat until fully in after a few minutes time.
	Phoebe’s mind was somewhere else in time.  She felt the man’s penis sliding into her sex; strangely she found herself swimming in a swirling mass of lifeless space.  Well, it wasn’t so lifeless; there were creatures she had never seen before “swimming” along with her.  She heard a whale singing; she saw giant moths fluttering causing stir in the lifepool; giant cicadas hissed; there were bison and wolves, too—thumping hard as they seemingly raced along the inky black ground that was space.
	Then she was cumming.
	There was no other answer—the release of her sexual energy was incredible!  Never before—not even with Helga or her dreams and fantasies had she had such an orgasm.  Griping the bed firstly she thrashed about pounding her young sex against her adult lover.  Then she was griping her lover’s arms holding on for dear life as he plowed her pussy.
	There were feelings and sensations the young girl thought never were possible.  Her entire body was literally on fire; it was way beyond the mere “tingling” stage—way beyond.  Her nipples, too, tingled in the new realm of pleasure and there were no words applicable to describe the pleasuring feelings centralized at her cunny.
	She trembled, shuddered like she was cold but was actually seriously on fire—and she quested for more!
	“FUCK ME!” she blurted out uncharacteristically.
	Barry Lambert was willing to oblige and did so.

*

I’m a banger, you’re a banger; wouldn’t you like to be a banger, too?
	Oh he was naughty!
	He was SOOOOO naughty!
	He was vile; loathing, disgusting, perverted, no morals.
	And Helga found him just charming.  She was spying, of course, continuously on Logan Haskell.  The teen heartthrob held back nothing and everyone—seemingly—was a prospect to have his way with.  Young, old; a friend, acquaintance, or other—child, teen, young adult, girlfriend’s mother—all were potential victims of his sexual want.

	Currently, the teen heartthrob was putting it to the mother of his girlfriend.  He had already had his way somewhat so with Karen, the cutey little six year old, now he was hammering the girls’ mother!  What a guy!  Donna Boatass lay nakedly spread out on her bed; it was midday and why she was home wasn’t known.  A light breeze filtered in thru the open window, the heavy scent of roses from her rose garden filled and scented the air.
	Logan Haskell was in full motion pumping the woman with much vigor and vim.  She was in her late thirties—he was in his mid teens.  Like Karen, Donna seemed “mindless” and simply lay mindlessly staring up to the ceiling—mindlessly.
	Logan humped and humped and humped—and humped and humped some more!  He arched his back, called out for God, a girl’s name, and then something unintelligible but he spoke it anyways.  Helga was awed not just at his tenacity and vileness but his lovemaking.  The boy fucked and fucked and fucked; he thrashed about, arched his back, called out for a Deity, then seriously finished off in a dramatic fashion.
	Donna Boatass remained mindlessly oblivious.

	Then—then Helga made the discovery.
	While Logan dried off in Karen’s bathroom after a good doinking of the woman, Kristi Boatass came home (possibly unexpectedly.)  Kristi was Karen’s teen daughter, she was thirteen.  Yapping on a cell phone the girl was easy—er, an easy target.  She slung a school bookbag into a chair, kicked the front door closed with her heel and continued to yap to a girlfriend as she made way to the kitchen for a snack.
	She farted, too.
	Long brown hair in a single pony, a ball cap, a simple tee-shirt indicating a local baseball team she played for, jeans and shoes she began kicking off as she grabbed a soda and a cookie.  
	Long wasn’t aware of Kristi until she was up the stairs making for her bedroom.  There was panic in his face—mostly ‘cause he wasn’t sure she was alone (due to the fact she was yapping on the phone.)  His clothes were in the bedroom—he was butt bare ass naked in the master bath.
	There wasn’t anything Helga could do but remained hidden.
	Kristi passed by the open bedroom door—and kept going.
	Karen remained mindlessly staring up to the ceiling—as well as naked.  Logan remained nakedly partly petrified in the bathroom daring a peek out into the room.
	Kristi made an appearance.

	“Mom?”
	Karen didn’t reply, didn’t move.  She breathed, sweated, and was in a delirium unknown.
	“Mom?” Kristi asked again sensing something was wrong.
	She wasn’t sure, Helga wasn’t, but she knew that Logan was trapped.  As Kristi made way further into the room staring with growing concern about her seemingly lifeless Mother, Helga made a noise from her hiding place in the closet.
	She farted.
	Intentional or otherwise she didn’t know but she decided that she needed to do something to give Logan a chance.  Kristi paused, stared and stared into the closet.  Then she called out,
	“Who’s there?”  “Karen?”  “Spooky monster?”  “Axe murder?”
	While Kristi contemplated, Helga farted, Logan dashed out of the bathroom (naked) and plucked up from his clothing a small handheld device known to perverts world wide.  An EMAD.
	Logan Haskell had an Electronic Mind Altering Device.
	He did!
	Quickly and was Kristi zapped into that state of being that was mindlessness.  Logan had stubbed his toe on his way to zap the girl, he danced about holding his injured toe for a few minutes while Kristi stood motionless—waiting.
	When the pain in his toe subsided somewhat, Logan sighed and stepped up to Kristi from behind.  He gave no thought as to why she was facing the closet.  His hands went up her sides, around her to grope her young teenage breasts; then he was up against her fingering her pussy.
	After much fingering—Logan “Scum Master” Haskell undone the girl’s pants and pushed them down.  His cock was raging hard—HARD!  On his knees he kissed the girl’s butt and probably would have done more given the time—but he didn’t have the time and so he moved Kristi to the bed where her Mom still lay mindless.
	Once on the bed he went straightaway to eating the girl’s pussy out thru her paisley blue panties (all the while hammering his cock.)  Helga’s cunt was dripping went so much so that it was a swamp in progress!  She fingered herself and did her best to keep herself quiet—
	Then she saw the EMAD.
	After successfully zapping Kristi he had tossed the EMAD to his clothes.  Helga paused in her friggin’ of herself.  What she could do with that!  (the EMAD)  Her heart beat near out of her chest with thoughts good and bad.  Mostly bad…

	After much munching Kristi’s cunt thru her panties, naughty boy Logan slid those panties down.  Then he paused a moment to take her teenage cunt—hammering his cock all the while.  Helga’s eyes fell to his ass.  His entire body was fantastic!  He played soccer, he ran track, and he was just a superior athlete.  A superior athlete Hegla wanted to fuck!
	But the boy was fucking Kristi instead.
	There wasn’t much time wasted—once the panties were off her ankles he moved up to lay on the girl grinding his cock against her trimmed cunt.  Helga had a “bird’s eye view”.  From the vantage point in the closet thru the slats it was a great-grand view.  Her pussy had gone from simple damp to serious swamp.  She wanted Phoebe’s tongue!  She wanted Logan’s cock!
	Logan finally made vaginal penetration and was “gettin’” it when there was significant noise from downstairs.  Logan flew off of the naked Kristi and bolted to the bathroom—then darted out grabbing his clothes (and minding device) then back into the bathroom.
	Suddenly and there was Kristi’s sister, Karen—and best friend, Mary Anne.  Logan was in agony, it was too much.  He rolled his eyes and head and seemed exasperated.  The girls in the hallway paused and backed up staring inward just as Kristi had.
	“What the fu--” blurted Mary Anne but catching her self just in time.
	“Whoa!” quipped out Karen.
	Helga watched as Logan aimed the EMAD—the stunned girls were then very stunned (stunned into submission.)  The horndog boy sighed and stepped out—nakedly with a raging hard-on.  Karen and Mary Anne stood absolutely still—and quiet.  Logan sighed again, stroked his lovely teen cock, farted; then stepped up to the lovely six year old Karen.  He paused, farted again; then pressed his cock against the child’s face all the while groping Mary Anne’s breasts.  He seemed captivated by the thirteen year old; average looking girl with super fine long brown hair; a sweet plain face, and very lovely breasts.
	Logan fondled them—then undone her pants tugging them down.
	White bikini panties (with pink trim) greeted him.  His cock began to spurt sending him into overdrive taking the girl to the bed working her pants and panties down.  A moment of just looking at the girl’s nakedness—then he was putting his tongue to it driving his fingers all about the poon area plus shoving one into her asshole!
	Logan held nothing back—after a good tonguing (and fingering) he crawled up onto the mindless girl pushing her shirt up and uncupping her breasts, too.  A little groping, suckling, and then the penetration began.  What a guy!

	There was some moan from Mary Anne but other than that—nothing.
	Logan drove his prick into her teen cunt and humped tenaciously for several minutes before releasing a mighty torrent of love cream.  His thrusts were incredible—slow, methodic; then fast and furious.  He lay on the girl allowing only his hips to do the bucking.  The fuck that followed was incredible—just fucking incredible!

	It couldn’t be helped—Helga made a puddle.  In the closet.  The pressure was just too great, her panties already off she just simply spread her legs and relieved herself.  A narly butt blast accompanied the puddle and Helga Heely hiding in the closet was glad she didn’t have the poop!
	On the bed, Logan Haskell had run his course with Mary Anne.  He had managed to go all the way without interruption blasting a hot load of teen spunk into the girl’s quim.  Whether or not she was a virgin wasn’t known—not to the closet spy.  Logan, though, sat up and made some comment regarding the grossness of his doing.  He made way to the bathroom and stood at the sink cleaning his penis and balls.  Then, after washing the washcloth, ringing it, he brought it to Mary Anne’s pussy to clean it—Helga then noted the slight presence of blood on the girl’s cunt.
	After the cleanup, Logan returned to little Karen, stripping her naked and laying her out on the bed next to her naked Mom.  Helga thought the scumbag would do like what he had done to Mary Anne—but he merely lay on the girl and hump hard against her cunt without penetrating.  It was still naughty and a horrendous thing to do—but Helga got off on watching his antics just the same.
	Logan Haskell would have done more but his watch went off, buzzing.  The boy grinded hard against Karen a little more, shut off the watch, then sighed exasperatedly before standing and looking over his mindless harem.  It was a task thereafter—getting everyone dressed.  The boy, of course, fondled breasts, pussy, and even grasped Karen’s ankles lifting her legs up to spank her.
	Helga’s cunny tingled.
	Not a word from the little girl.  
	Logan remained nude all the while.
	When his watch buzzed a second time—and louder, Logan stepped up his process of dressing everyone, including himself, then using the minding device did something like texting on a cell phone.  The boy’s fingers worked swiftly over a possible keyboard aiming the device to each person before standing them up and apparently putting them, placing them where they had last been before being “zapped.”

	Lastly was Karen and Mary Anne; in the hallway the boy placed the two just passed the bedroom door and did something to the minding device then quickly stepped back into the bedroom.  Helga couldn’t see what happened (in the hallway) but Logan seemed relieved and sighed making the “whew” sign exhibiting the “that was close” persona.
	Then he moved Kristi out of her Mother’s bedroom to stand her in the hallway.  After his fingers flew over the keyboard on the EMAD and a slight pause, Logan nodded, farted, then tended to Kristi’s parental unit.