Filename: GoodSamaritan.txt

Title: The Good Samaritan

Author: Eliston X. Gaulfre Rewdius Rewdius@gmail.com

Codes: Mg

Keywords: Cons, Rom, Oral, Anal, Pedo, Piv, 1st

Summary:  People normally think a good samaritan is someone who helps
other people without benefit for themselves.  In spite of the many
dozens of foreign and lonely orphaned little girls I've helped to have
better lives with food, a nice place to stay for a night or week, lots
of money, and the ability to consent to anything we did, my efforts were
never completely free.  What was another orphan's downfall in a small
Russian town turned into my liberation, and I took adversity and turned
it into happiness.  WARNING:  Read the story codes.

Copyright: 2011

     -----------------------------------------------

Preface:

This document contains contextual information of an adult nature.
Sensitive and/or non-adult individuals should delete this document
immediately.

If you are under 21 or you are an adult who does NOT wish to view
sexually explicit contextual material, YOU MUST LEAVE NOW!

By continuing you are stating that you are an adult and understand that
falsely claiming otherwise is unlawful and may result in your
prosecution.  You are hereby warned to conduct yourself according to
your local standards regarding the reading of adult erotic material.

The following is a literary work of adult erotic fiction and is laced
with tremendously immoral and strongly perverse sexual activities
between an adult man and an underage girl.  If you are the least
offended by physical contact of a sexual nature between an adult man and
young female children, then delete this file and be on your way.  There
will be no pity taken on, or comments accepted from anyone who does not
heed this warning.

None of the events described herein ever took place nor were influenced
by the descriptions or deeds by any human being.  Everything in this
fantasy was the creation of a single person's mind, where nobody was
touched, fondled, coaxed, or coerced into any sexual situation.

Enjoy this wicked reverie at your own risk, and do not be surprised if
you find yourself aroused.

Eliston X. Gaulfre
Rewdius@gmail.com

     -----------------------------------------------

Standing at the reception desk in the hotel lobby I found myself at the
receiving end of a long hard stare by a pair of young eyes that drilled
right through me.  My feet hadn't stopped moving on the smooth and clean
floor of a nice older hotel for more than a minute after traveling all
day and I was being watched.  I was far too tired after my long jaunt of
jet planes, airports, trains, taxi cabs, and throngs of people pressing
in on me to do anything but glance back, but there was something about
the young boy's stare that made me want to look back at him for much
longer.

People seemed to walk by him as if he didn't exist, his position on part
of a hotel lobby chair giving him the appearance of a lifeless fixture
that required no more thought than a wad of wind-blown paper as it sat
undisturbed in a corner.  In spite of my having done nothing to gain his
attention, other than walking into the hotel lobby, he kept watching me
while I was waiting for the hotel security chief to take possession and
record temporary ownership of my airline tickets, visa, and travel
information.  The young boy's intense interest made me turn back twice
just to confirm who those eyes belonged to and why they'd be so
fascinated with me or some aspect of my deportment.  After being his
focus for so long I decided to ask the young female receptionist about
the person who was so curious about me.

"Excuse me ... Miss?"

"Yes, Sir?  My name is Ilyenka."

"Pardon me ... Ilyenka, but ... the child who's sitting over there and
watching me so intently ... why am I such a strong interest?"

"Oh!  Sasha watches all the people in the lobby."

"And the hotel manager doesn't mind someone just sitting there watching
your guests arrive?"

"No.  Sasha doesn't bother anyone."

The young woman looked at me for a moment, looked around the lobby,
around her at the reception desk, stepped closer, and then whispered as
if she didn't want her fellow employees to hear what she said.

"Please don't say anything to comrade Gennadi about Sasha."

And with that I tried to disregard the child and what might have gained
his attention as the little boy kept staring at me.

After all of my documents were held hostage by the hotel security chief
until I departed I received a receipt for my visa, plane tickets, and
travel permit.  A smartly dressed bellhop wearing a long bright red coat
with a row of circular black buttons along the front seam then escorted
me to the stairs so I could see what seven dollars of American money per
night could get me for two weeks of lodging.  The guy's outfit wasn't
new and it could have spent a little time at a tailor's shop so it would
fit its owner or wearing better, but the bellhop seemed particularly
proud of his outfit.  It appeared he wanted to make a good impression on
a Westerner, because he kept checking his uniform over, looking at the
sleeves, all the many buttons down the front to make sure none were
undone, and tugged on the front seam to keep his outer coat straight.

Five flights of stairs after an already tiring day wasn't what I was
looking forward to, but the price was right, and I was sure there'd be
benefits that I wouldn't become aware of until after I'd gotten
comfortable a while later.

The accommodations could have been worse, but they could have been a lot
better, too.  The room was dimly lit and smelled of fresh paint from a
rusty bucket, but it was far bigger than my whole apartment when I went
to college.  The first thing I did after walking into a room with a
single light bulb overhead and a small window on the far wall opposite
the door was set my travel bag onto the bed and push against the thick
bedcovers to see if it had a mattress underneath or might have been
filled with hay.  I was shocked to feel the glorious softness that
hinted at being hugged by a dozen plump women and had to chuckle when I
heard the bed springs squeak when I pushed down and let go.  There
wouldn't be many quiet nights of sexual perversion on *that* bed, even
if I was lucky enough to find a young playmate.

"Good?  You like?"

In broken English it was obvious the bellhop was far more interested in
my comfort than the receptionist or the security chief, and his pensive
gaze and half grin required an appropriate reply.

"Good.  I like."

"Good!  Me happy."

I wadded up a single one dollar bill, stuffed it into his left as we
shook right hands, and half expected him to lambaste me for being so
stingy with my funds.  After he turned around, stood in the open doorway
for a moment, unfolded what I handed him, and then spun around I was
sure for a moment I'd have to cower in the corner to protect my face.
Thankfully my impression was way off the mark.

"Very good!  Many thanks!"

The young man looked a lot happier than I could have imagined, and after
he shook my hand in his tight grip a second time he offered more.  Still
holding my right hand in his he touched his chest with his left index
finger and offered what I assumed was his first name.

"Dimitri!"

Fractions of a second later he followed the same piece of information
with his full name.  I could only assume he thought I was an idiot.

"Dimitri Ivanov."

Mimicking what he did I pat my chest twice with my flattened left hand
and returned his polite gesture.

"Preston.  Preston Allen Markevich."

He smiled, gripped our handshake with his left hand, and then almost
shook my hand free of my arm when he jerked my limb up and down when he
spoke again.

"Pres-ton.  Dimitri friend!"

Yeah, okay.  As long as I had a never-ending supply of dollar bills and
was willing to liberate a few every day I was sure he'd want to be my
long lost buddy for the rest of my life.

"You ... want ... anything ... I get!"

By the look in his eyes and the way he attempted to express himself I
could tell he might try to steal the Crown Jewels if I asked him to and
tempted him with another dollar bill to accomplish the task.

"Thank you, Dimitri."

If he didn't let go of my right hand and kept jerking it up and down in
a wild frenzy of ecstatic pleasure I was sure I'd need to visit the
local hospital to repair any permanent joint damage from so much abuse.

Thankfully he stopped trying to wrest my arm out of its socket long
enough for me to move my right hand toward the door in an attempt to bid
him to leave my rented accommodations.  It was only after I was halfway
through my door to encourage him to make his way back to the lobby and
watch him jog down the wide hall toward the stairs that I saw the same
eyes that had been so intent on burning holes in my skull while I stood
in front of the receptionist and security chief.  Rather than keep his
place on part of a hotel lobby chair on the ground floor the little boy
with an insatiable curiosity ventured to the fifth floor above the street
and was peering around the edge of the wall where the bellhop rushed
past toward the next rich American tourist or contract employee.

His eyes were an electric blue that seemed to draw me in like a moth to
a candle flame.  And yet there was a deep sadness and loneliness to his
gaze that hinted at a rough life and desperate need for something other
than boring days of busy hotel lobbies and the dispassionate neglect
from people who probably saw and ignored him on a daily basis.

The dirty brown color of his very short hair seemed like an afterthought
for a creator who'd graced his pretty face with full crimson lips,
dashes of pink on his cheeks, and a smooth complexion that hinted at
skin that might have felt like living silk.  The well worn clothes he
wore could have used a tumble or two inside a washing machine, and his
shoes, or what there was of them, hid just enough of his dirty feet to
afford him a modicum of protection if he had to go running through the
streets or alleys to find a place to stay or some food to eat.

Something told me he was a stray, an orphan, a life yet to be discovered
but created by people who cared no more for him than they might a pack
of American cigarettes once it was empty.  It was at that moment my life
would forever be changed.

While standing in the open doorway I held my right index finger in the
air as if to keep his attention for a moment and then turned around to
get something tucked inside my travel bag where I left it on the bed.

My young observer must have been in turmoil after I disappeared from
view and fumbled with the zipper and a few inside pockets to find
something I knew I'd left there from a visit to the airport in Munich.
That was proved when I turned around after having found what I was
looking for; the little stray boy was peeking around the edge of my open
hotel room door to see what I might be doing.  His curiosity must have
forced him to walk without a sound down the hall until he was just
outside my room.

The instant our eyes met after I'd located what I was looking for and
turned around I froze, his appearance that close to me forcing me to
study his features with the fascination of a classical artist.  Each of
the gentle curves of his cheeks, the way his cherub lips were so
perfectly set on his face, the alabaster texture of his skin, and the
way his nose seemed to be placed above his mouth left me with the
impression that he'd been conceived by angels.  If I liked little boys
as much as I liked little girls I might encourage him to be my friend so
I could tempt that tender angel out of his clothes.

Yes ... I'm a pedophile, but not a homosexual one.  My preference is
for girls, and the younger the better ... to a point.  My playmates
needed to be hairless, yes, but they also had to be able to understand
what nice feelings meant and how to ask for more when they wanted them.
Gurgles and unrecognizable mumbles from an infant weren't the kind of
things that made my cock quite as hard as a timid smile, a cute giggle,
and a nod when I asked if my little female playmate liked special
tickles for an hour or ten.

The instant my small visitor discovered what was in my right hand I saw
his eyes go wide, his posture straighten, his lips turn up into a lovely
smile, his body flinch as if he might have wanted to run into my room,
and claim the prize in my possession.  I was tired, but not too tired to
squat down and lift into the air the nearly six inch long paper-wrapped
candy bar that cost me far too much in one of the airport news stands,
but far less than it was worth to my nameless young friend.  To my
silent and nameless visitor it could have cost a million dollars.

It was apparent the young boy was a street wise kid, because he looked
back and forth down the hall to see if anyone would see him enter my
room, and once he was sure nobody would stop him he put his hands behind
his body and moved toward me in a very slow and methodical manner.  It
might have only been about eight feet between the open door and where I
was squatting on the floor with my back to the bed, but it seemed as if
it took him a week to traverse the short distance.

He could have grabbed the item and run off, but instead he walked up to
me and leaned the right side of his body against my left side opposite
where I was holding the candy.  My up-lifted right hand was even with my
shoulder and his hips, and he remained quiet as he looked at it.  He was
a paradox to me, at odds with how I anticipated an orphan would react to
something as luxurious and decadent as Western candy.

All it took was for me to shift it a little closer to his tummy and urge
it upward twice in a 'take it' gesture for his left hand to come from
around his back and approach my right hand, his right hand to rest on
top of my left shoulder, and my left hand tucked around his body until
my palm felt the warmth of his tender fanny safely hidden inside his
dirt-covered pants.  True, I'd never spent any time touching boys and
wasn't a homosexual, but it still felt nice to cup my hand around his
round bum and hold him in place.

He seemed torn between taking what I was offering and running out of my
room, a nervous twitch to his body confirming he might have been uneasy
standing so close to a man he didn't know.  I was getting the impression
that my left hand cupping his bum with an almost imperceptible caress
was what bothered him, so I removed my appendage and placed it onto my
left knee as it was pressed into the wide Persian carpet that covered
the floor.  The boy noticed but didn't say anything, because he turned
his head ever so slightly and looked into my face, his prior look of
fear transmuted almost instantaneously into one of delight.

All it took was for me to lift the candy bar twice as I had before in
the 'take it' gesture for his left hand to move close enough to my right
for him to touch my gift.  Moments before his fingers claimed what I was
offering we heard a door open and then close in the hallway through my
open hotel room door.  That sent my young visitor into a panic, his eyes
wide, his smile gone, a look of terror all over his face, and his feet
carrying him toward the door.  But instead of running through it he got
behind it, put both of his hands on the door knob, and began to return
the door to its fully closed position.

By the time my door was closed I knew my guest preferred to remain with
me rather than scamper away like a feral cat.  Whomever was walking down
the hall must have been closer to the lobby than I was and was able to
make their way to the stairs.  I never saw anyone walk by before the
door was closed, but I heard the sounds of feet coming down onto the
wide and well-worn steps toward the lobby.

Instead of taking what I'd offered and flitting through the door like a
frightened sparrow from a dark room into the light of freedom my young
friend was leaning against the inside of the closed portal and looking
back at me with an expression that hinted at familiarity.  He must have
known I was a child lover instinctively, or it must have been painted
onto my forehead somewhere along my travels, because there was more
being said in our mutual silence and deep gaze than I could have
imagined.

His heart must have been pounding in his chest, because I could see his
ribs move in a rapid and rhythmic pattern of in and out shifts that
hinted at being horrified and having to breathe heavily.  And yet he
still had the compelling need to claim what I'd offered, his feet
carrying him back to the same spot in the same slow manner where he'd
been moments before we both heard someone in the hall.

Just as he'd done earlier he leaned his right side against my left, put
his right hand on top of my left shoulder, and seemed to silently ask
for me to put my left hand where it had been.  I had no desire to take
on same-sex promiscuous activities with such a cute little boy, so I
offered no more than a slight lean into him instead.  It was while we
were looking into each others' eyes that I saw a smile I knew was going
to be my downfall in more ways than the sexual one.  Thankfully my
ambition to try out new bedroom hobbies was at an all time low, so I
shifted the candy in my right hand toward his left until he placed his
fingers onto it ... then around it a little bit ... and finally far
enough around the thick straight bar of sweetness that I felt its weight
removed from my open palm.

Rather than burst out of my grasp the moment he had it my young visitor
held it in his left hand about a foot from my face and a bit further
from his own.  He must have examined it far longer than I could have
imagined, maybe because he didn't seem to know what it was or what to do
with it.  The dark brown wrapper with blue and white lettering on the
front might have been as foreign to him as rubles had been to me before
my trips to Russia and the many states around it, but the shape and size
of the thing *had* to be a clue whatever was inside tasted good.

Using my empty right hand I brought my fingertips and thumb together in
a tight array, mimicked putting something into my mouth, and then
pretended to chew as I made some 'yummy' sounds.

"Mmmmmm!"

He giggled, looked at my eyes for a moment, and then back down to the
candy in his possession, and yet he *still* didn't move.  It was as if
he was waiting for something else ... something that might have involved
a reward that he believed his older male guest might have wanted in
return.

Rather than assume too much after only recently been welcomed to the
hotel I smiled, caressed the outside of his left arm with my right hand,
and then nodded to him.  What he did next confirmed he was far more
appreciative of my gift than I could have imagined.

He lunged at me, threw both his arms around my neck, and pushed against
me hard enough to knock me down had I not been leaning against the side
of the bed.  My instinctive reaction was to wrap both of my hands around
his body, one of those hands returning to the plump softness of his full
and warm backside.  Figuring a simple hug was being offered and a
similar one required in return I wrapped my left hand around his back
until my fingertips stroked up and down the left side of his chest, and
my right hand caressed and fondled his bum in a slow and measured
cadence.

There's something about a child's pliable bum that fills my body with
electricity and my heart with joy, especially when that supple acreage
is being offered with such uninhibited regard.  It might have only been
two weeks since I'd felt the tender warmth of a little girl's bare body
and reveled in her charms, but that two weeks seemed like an eternity.
Holding and rocking my newest young visitor restored the strength that
had been taken from me when I had to leave my last little playmate
behind, many more hours of long embraces and timid touches hungered for
with increasing frequency.

We could have stayed in our shared embrace for hours, but I was truly
tired from having traveled for an entire day and half the previous
night, and I needed to see just how comfortable my rented bed was.

Cupping his round and supple fanny hard enough to determine just how
well my hand fit the curvature of his butt it was time to let him go and
encourage him to find his way back to the lobby.  He might not have a
place to go, nor would he agree with my assessment that we needed to
part, but the local authorities most likely felt the same way many other
people did about adults inviting children into their beds for something
as innocent as sleep.

My hands were shifted to his upper arms, I pushed against him enough to
hint at separation, and was surprised to hear him whimper disapproval at
my suggestion.  Rather than fight it and resist a minute or more of a
long and asexual embrace I put my arms around him, kept my hands away
from his backside, and just thought of him as a lonely soul who needed a
nice long hug.

When he turned his head slightly and kissed my neck below my ear I felt
my whole body tremble.  In that one simple act of affection I felt him
ask for things that little boys shouldn't know anything about.  Had I
been anxious to teach him the 'Greek' way I might have stripped him bare
and lifted him onto my bed, but making love to a boy was the same as
doing it with a man, just with smaller features and no pubic hair, and I
didn't care for that level of liberated explorations.

It took a second and more determined attempt, but I was eventually able
to coax his arms from around my neck and the front of his body away from
my chest.  It was painfully obvious by his pout, his bottom lip jutting
out from his cute mouth, and his strong stare into my eyes that he
didn't want me to break our hug, but I knew better than to get tossed
into a foreign jail after only having arrived in a small Russian city
far from the comforts of much more unrestricted amenities and personal
forms of entertainment.  Moscow certainly wasn't known any more for its
immoral sexual comforts than most other Asian cities, but if someone
knew the right person and had enough money anything could be had for the
right price.  Seeking out the same sort of entertainment in a much
smaller and poorer town before making the right connection was more
likely to be noticed, so I knew to advocate a more timid manner of
shared young company.

After a little tickle along his ribs and a joyous giggle as my reward I
rose to a standing position and urged him to turn around and make his
way back through my door.  The moment we were both standing close enough
for me to put my right hand on the door knob the boy spun in place,
threw his arms around my body, and said one word that I'd heard many
times before, "Nyet!"  A tight hug, the way he acted and sounded, and
the word 'no' in any language were universal concepts that I was able to
comprehend, but he might not be aware that I also knew what the more
adult word 'consequences' in English implied.

I might have wanted to just kick the little urchin out, get some rest so
I could start making myself familiar with the town, and get to work in a
day or two, but something about his mannerisms and the way he cried into
my belly in a low whimper stole every vestige of strength from me.  The
message was being broadcast loud enough for even the most insensitive
clout to see, so I knelt down, with some difficulty, and held him along
his upper arms close enough to be intimate, but far enough so we could
see each other.

Remembering enough Russian from the foreign language course I had to
take before I was permitted to work in the country I uttered a few words
to urge my young friend away from a potentially dangerous man and closer
to the little boy's home, where-ever that might be.

"Mommy and daddy?"

All he did was shake his head as he stared at the fingers on his right
hand while they fumbled with a top button on my shirt.  I knew he wasn't
asking for my permission to help me out of my clothes, because young
children normally didn't do that sort of thing ... unless I was at the
right establishment for that sort of activity, and as far as I knew my
hotel wasn't one of those rather interesting organizations.

"Home?"

Again, he shook his head and confirmed my earlier suspicion that he was
an orphan and had to live off the kindness of strangers.

"Anyone?"

For him to cry in near silence tore at my heart like a seventy-four
tooth carbide-tipped rock saw.  My skills in construction and excavation
weren't needed for me to have to dig my way out of the hole I'd gotten
myself into with those simple questions.  As strange as it might have
seemed a sensation of hunger made me reconsider what I was going to do
next, my young visitor's appearance hinting at many days and nights of
much more extreme sensations in his small belly.

"Food?"

Even while he was pouring out silent tears of emotional anguish his head
went up and down just enough to confirm I wouldn't be eating alone.  In
a move that might have taken him off guard had we not established his
prior awareness of my generosity I wrapped him up in a hug, lifted him
tight to my body, and then hoisted him into the air.

Moments later he was sitting on my lap as I dialed the 1950's rotary
phone from the side of my soft and very comfortable bed.  The person at
the other end sounded vaguely like a country operator, but in Russian.

"Reception ... may I help you?"

"Yes ... this is Preston Allen Markevich, in room five twenty eight."

"Yes, Mister Preston?"

"Is it possible for me to order food to be brought to my room, or am I
required to eat at a local restaurant?"

"Yes, it is possible.  Your room charge covers breakfast and dinner."

Better than I thought.

"When will dinner be ready for me to order?"

"It should be delivered to your room in an hour."

"Very good.  I'm very hungry, so ... I'd like to buy a larger portion
for this evening's meal, please."

"Uhhhh ... certainly.  But if you do not finish the meal there is no
refund."

Like I'd ask for my money back.  Since it was part of the room rate I
wouldn't be able to anyway.

"That's fine.  An hour, then?"

"Yes."

"Very well.  Thank you."

"Goodbye."

The little boy's eyes were larger around after hearing my conversation
in my best Russian than they were when he saw the size of the candy bar
still in his left hand.  If he continued to clutch it so snugly it would
be little more than a narrow bag filled with melted chocolate fairly
soon.  All I had to do was tap on the back of his left hand where he was
holding the candy to suggest he put it down before that happened.  What
he did instead was offer it to me with a forlorned expression on his
face.

That's when I knew to make him feel better than I suspected he had in a
very long time by pointing to the small table next to the bed where the
telephone was sitting and saying one word.

"There!"

He turned around, reached out, put it down, and then turned back around
to look into my eyes with what must have been a practiced expression of
extreme pity.  I'd seen it hundreds of times and had grown accustomed
and immune to its effects, but I still felt bad for the young tyke.  All
it took was a single word and my right index finger pointed toward his
prize for him to offer a smile as wide as one I'd ever seen.

"Yours!"

Just as he'd done before he lunged into my chest, wrapped his arms all
the way around my neck, and squeezed tight enough to nearly choke me.
In spite of the pain and lack of oxygen for a few seconds it felt good
to be held that snugly.

Since I had an hour before dinner the best use of my time would be to
take a shower.  Having company in the bathroom was something that I'd
often enjoyed, but my bathing partners had always been and *would* be
little girls, so I had to make sure to either keep the kid busy or send
him out of the room.  Before I was able to decide which way to send him
I decided on introducing myself, first.

After I got him far enough away from my chest so we could see each
others' eyes I repeated what I'd done for Dimitri, patted my chest twice
with my flattened hand, and then provided my name.

"Preston."

He touched his chest with his left index finger and replied.

"Sasha."

Offering him my right hand wasn't something I was concerned about,
because Sasha wouldn't be able to wrench my right arm out of its socket
the way Dimitri tried.

"Hi, Sasha."

The notion of shaking hands must have seemed a much more intimate
activity to him, because he smiled, blushed, tucked his face down a
little bit in his embarrassment, and leaned into me.  He looked like
such a precious little thing that my celibacy might be tempted while I
was working in his town.

He eventually offered his right hand, we shook, and then after he drew
his small appendage away from mine he turned and lunged into my chest
for yet another hug.  He was such a darling child that I had a hard time
believing anyone would just toss him out like an empty vodka bottle.

It took another half minute of his eager embrace before I was able to
get his attention long enough to speak to him.

"Sasha?  I need to bathe.  Would you wait here?"

For him to blush again and nod confirmed that growing suspicion I had
that he was more familiar with the dark sexual arts than he should have
been at his age, but I didn't do anything further to coax him out of his
clothes and into the bed or shower with me.

Once his feet were back onto the floor and I began to rummage through my
travel bag for a few supplies I heard him whisper a timid request in his
native language.

"May I watch your things?"

Since most of my money was in traveler's checks and credit cards I
didn't think he would be able to do much damage to my clothes and a few
more bills of lower denomination American currency.  There was a nice
camera that I'd paid about a hundred U.S. dollars for, but it had
served me well long enough that if it went missing I wouldn't be
horrified.  I wouldn't like it, but as much as I'd enjoyed of his
country's nicest 'amenities' I wouldn't hunt the little thief down and
try to get it back.

"Would you work for me and protect my things while I'm busy?"

His expression hinted at a level of my potential stupidity that needed
clarification.  With his left index finger pointed toward an open door,
mine one of the few hotel rooms with a private bathroom, he must have
felt pity for me at not knowing just how fortunate I was.

"The bathroom is there, Mister Preston.  You do not need to leave."

After I'd turned to confirm what he was pointing at I smiled and offered
what he must not have considered.

"No, Sasha ... I mean, when I'm away from the hotel and working."

His eyes got big, he had a look of uncertainty on his face, and he must
not have understood the depth of my offer.  It was only after I was
at his level and just as close to him as I was when I offered him the
candy that he seemed to relax when I spoke again.

"How much money do you want to work for me for two weeks?"

The idea that I'd pay him to protect my possessions must have been
enough to make him tremble, but for me to offer him employment for two
whole weeks must have seemed like an eternity and life-long contract to
the kid.  He avoided my gaze, but he didn't withdraw.  In fact, he put
his right hand on my left shoulder again and shifted close enough for
his body to touch mine just as it had twice before.  His shrug proved he
needed to work on his salesmanship.

"How about five dollars?"

His eyes got big again, and he barely uttered two letters.

"U.S.?"

"Yes.  American money.  Is that enough?"

He nodded so hard I thought his head would snap off his neck.

"Okay ... you are working for me for two weeks for five dollars."

We shook on the deal, I got another hug, and after a few moments and at
least one more caress of his tender fanny I rose to my feet.  A minute
later I was standing inside the old porcelain tub and enjoying the
cleansing effects of fairly clean water.  Light green wasn't my favorite
color of fresh water, but I'd gotten used to it, and knew not to rinse
my mouth out or brush my teeth with it.

I pretty much anticipated coming back out of the bathroom to an empty
hotel room and all of my belongings missing.  My surprise wasn't that my
stuff was still there, but that Sasha had my travel bag on his lap, and
he had both of his short arms around it as if he would protect it with
his very life.  I felt honored ... and humbled.

Since it was always nicer to eat dinner after having gotten cleaned up
I anticipated my young employee might like to do the same, so once I was
fairly dry and wearing a towel around my waist I coaxed Sasha out from
under my belongings and off the bed.

"Would you like to take a bath?"

Pointing to the open door and smiling at him must have been enough,
because he shrugged, nodded, and then made his way toward and then
beside me as I stood halfway through the door.

"You may use my soap and shampoo, but please just a little."

While he was staring at me with a look of bewildered thanks he lifted
his shirt over his head and offered me a quick peek at his unfeatured
chest, two dark pink dime sized dots on his ribs and tipped with little
buttons that were erect.  Either he was cold, or possibly aroused.  The
temperature in the room was fine, so I assumed he might not have gotten
undressed in front of too many men before.

While he kept staring into my eyes I watched just long enough to see him
undo and then step out of his pants, a loose fitting pair of waist high
underpants covering every square inch of his young body.  In order to
help him feel a lot more at ease I smiled, pulled the bathroom door
closed with me outside the room, and left him to tend to his business.

While I was getting dressed into some clean underwear I heard the water
run for a minute and then nothing.  That confirmed he must have chosen
to take a bath rather than shower, as I had.  Returning to the bathroom
for my overnight kit and leaving the towel, shampoo, and soap didn't
require all that much thought, but seeing Sasha sitting in the tub and
smiling made me want to smile too, so I grinned at him, collected my
stuff, and went back to the other room so he could finish.

He might have wanted to play in there a lot longer, but must have been
mindful of taking longer than I did, because I heard him moving around
in the bathroom and then call my name.

"Mister Preston?"

Wearing a clean t-shirt and underwear and the fairly clean slacks I'd
had on for the last day I tapped on the bathroom door, opened it just
a crack, and then peeked inside.

"Yes, Sasha?"

Standing with his hands covering his privates he shuddered as he spoke.

"Can I use your towel?"

"Sure, Sasha."

My feet were inside, toward the tall radiator that was meant to dry the
towel after use, the towel removed, snapped open, and then draped around
his shoulders.  The instant the warmth of the towel touched his body he
shivered and then smiled.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sasha.  I'll be in the other room until you're
dressed."

"Okay."

The bathroom door was closed with me on the outside, and after no more
than another minute the door was opened a little bit and his body was
wrapped in the same towel.  I kind of suspected why the boy would be
standing there halfway out of the door covered in the towel, but needed
to practice my Russian.

"What do you want, Sasha?"

"May I wash my clothes in the water?"

It might have seemed a strange place to wash his clothes, but he must
have learned to take advantage of every opportunity at free stuff, so I
figured it wouldn't do any harm.

"Yes, but don't use too much soap, or you'll have to rinse your clothes
for a long time.  Also, do your underpants first and put them on the
towel rack so they can dry quickly.  That way you won't have to wear the
towel when our dinner arrives."

"Tee-hee!"

There might have been a few grammatical errors in the way I spoke
because of his bright giggle, but the idea was conveyed, and Sasha went
back inside the bathroom with the door wide open.  He must have done
that for me so I could watch how much of my soap he'd use, but his
dropping the towel to the floor so I could see his cute little butt
wasn't a good idea given my tendency to enjoy little children's bodies.

I looked, I stared, and practically raped the cute thing while studying
every feature of his round fanny.  About the only thing I *didn't* do
was look far enough between his legs to notice anything private that had
graced my body when I was his age.  It took a lot of strength and quite
a bit of determination from me, but I was eventually able to rip my eyes
away from his cute backside and busy myself with other more mundane
tasks.

When I heard a lot more splashing than might be normal to wash a few
small children's garments I walked to the bathroom and stepped through
the door to see him stomping up and down on his clothes under his feet
inside the tub and turned the other way.  There was just enough evidence
of soap to do a pretty good job, but not too much to soil the fabric if
not rinsed well enough, so I smiled and waited just long enough for him
to start to bend down in an attempt to claim and then wring his clean
underpants out.  Rather than stand there at the door and stare I backed
away and began to walk toward the bed.  I didn't get very far.

"Mister Preston?"

"Yes?"

"I can't reach the top of the heater where it is the warmest."

I returned, stepped into the bathroom, and was relieved, and saddened,
to see him wrapped in the towel again.  He might have been willing to
drop what was around his body so I could stare at him if I asked, but I
had no desire to walk down that road.

"No problem.  Do a good job on your clothes I'll take care of these,
and then I'll check on you in a few minutes."

There really wasn't very much for me to do other than wring his shorts
out more completely, drape them onto one of the warm painted metal pipes
so they'd dry, and watch him work his clothes clean for a moment.  A
quick nap was what I needed next, and in spite of the likelihood that I
might have a hard time rousing from a short sleep I was fairly sure
Sasha would eagerly remind me when our meal arrived, so I left Sasha to
his work, walked back to the larger room, shifted my belongings to the
floor opposite the door, took a spot in the center of the big bed,
immersed myself in the feel of being hugged by a dozen plump women, and
closed my eyes.

I'd barely had a chance to close my eyes and feel that glorious
sensation of drifting off when I felt a pair of small hands rock my left
arm back and forth.

"Mister Preston?"

"Mmm?"

"Will you get my underpants for me, please?"

"Mmm!"

It took a lot more work than I'd anticipated to get myself vertical,
both because I was exhausted, and because the bed felt so good.  The
squeaks and squeals of the bed-springs made me grin, and I remembered a
time in my youth when I was proud of making a lot of rhythmic noise
with a set of bed-springs that sounded a lot like those.

Sasha's underpants were retrieved, checked along the crotch to see if
they were dry enough, and when that was confirmed I handed the thin
white article to my guest.  I was so tired I didn't watch him drop the
towel and pull his undergarment up his legs and shuffled my way back to
bed.  I was only able to touch my hands to it when someone knocked on
the hotel room door.  Sasha reacted pretty much as he did when he'd
heard the last person near the door and ducked into the bathroom and hid
behind the door.

Once the hotel room door was opened I was greeted by the same smiling
face that had escorted me upstairs.  Dimitri had his hands on the back
end of a metal food cart and seemed eager to wheel it inside.  When I
took a peek back down the hall to see how he might have gotten the thing
all the way up five flights of stairs I was concerned he might have had
to make two dozen trips.  It was when I remembered the dumb-waiter door
opposite the top landing that I knew how he'd accomplished his mission.

The cart was pushed into my room, and it was only after it was placed
near the small window next to an even smaller table that I saw just how
many dishes were piled up on top of the cart and under the many metal
plate covers.  The smell alone made me want to eat while standing, but
it would have been rude to have Dimitri watch, so I handed him another
dollar bill, got a smile as my reward, and walked him back to, through,
and out the hotel room door.

Sasha was most likely going to remain in hiding until either he was sure
everything was safe, or I told him he was welcome to venture out.  All
it took were two taps on the bathroom door for him to open it just a
crack and peek out through the long vertical slit.

"Dimitri is gone, Sasha.  Let's put your clothes on the radiator and
then we can eat dinner."

Rather than continue to drape the damp towel around his waist or
shoulders Sasha preferred to wear nothing more than his underpants.
They were so featureless and bland I couldn't make out any details of
anything inside and chose to conduct myself in an appropriate manner so
the little boy wouldn't grow fearful of my every move.  His wet clothes
were wrung out into the tub once more, and then each item was placed on
the radiator so they'd be dry by the time we'd finished eating our meal.

Sasha was so apprehensive about someone seeing him in my room that he
peeked around the edge of the partly opened door, and he only relaxed
when he could see the entry door was closed and nobody else was inside
behind or around me.  Once he realized we were again alone he threw
himself forward and wrapped his arms as far around my hips as he could.
If he kept expressing his emotions like that I might eventually break
down and succumb to a brief examination of his petite frame just to
satisfy a carnal urge to fondle a child's bare bum once more.

Thankfully he smelled the food before he encouraged me to do anything
inappropriate.  Once he looked up into my face with a broad smile on his
own I knew he was wordlessly asking me to lead the way.

The first thing I noticed about our dining accommodations was the lack
of a second chair for him to sit on, but that was overcome after I took
my place.  Without any fear whatsoever Sasha climbed up onto my lap with
his back against my chest and pulled my left hand around his body as if
I'd been his dining partner all his life.  I had to chuckle at his
enthusiasm, but wasn't the least offended about how excited he looked at
smelling such delicate aromas.

Once we were both in place and our tummies grumbled a few times I began
to uncover the first couple of dishes.  The steam rising from the first
platter was enough to look impressive and the immediate smell of fish
basted in lemon and butter made my mouth water.  The second plate was
also uncovered, and it revealed a large portion of potatoes, cabbage,
and onions topped with chives or scallions.

Rather than wait too long I collected my utensils, sampled from the
fish, and then from the vegetables, and was surprised at how tasty both
dishes were.  I could have slowly chewed my food and savored the taste,
but Sasha was waiting for his share, so I measured out an equal ration
of both dishes onto my fork and offered my young orphan guest two equal
amounts of food as the ones I'd enjoyed.  His manners were quite a bit
more refined than I anticipated, because I half expected him to act like
a stray dog and growl at me with his hands around one or both plates
after he had his first bite.

Those two plates alone would have been enough for both of us, but there
were at least four more under the first two.  It might have been rude to
sample from the other unseen plates of as yet unseen sustenance before
finishing the first two, but I didn't want the rest of our meal to get
cold before we got to sample from everything.  Cold beet soup, or
borscht, and a hot cream and potato soup were on the next level, so with
a spoon shared between Sasha and me we slurped up some of each.  He
seemed to like the borscht more than I did, so I let him have a greater
portion.  The cream and potato soup was more to my liking, so I got to
work on that one.

We hadn't even eaten any more than a third of what we'd seen and already
were beginning to slow down.  The last two plates were uncovered and I
should have gotten to them first, because one of them was filled with
sliced breads of various kinds, and the other one dessert.  I decided to
save the dessert plate for later, and lifted the bread plate to the side
so we could each take a slice and return to the main courses.

While we were eating and in an absentminded fog of carnal curiosity my
left index and middle fingers lightly stroked his almost flat chest and
landed on his small left nipple which made it remain hard and erect the
entire time I touched him.  Maybe it was my ability to touch a child so
easily, or the fact that he was so forgiving, but as we ate and would
exchange a few words now and then I couldn't stop rolling his little
nubbin around.  It might have been fun for him, or possibly offensive,
but he seemed far more tolerant of my activities than he could have
been.  Maybe it was his need to be treated with some gentle molestation
by an adult who cared enough for him to welcome him so quickly, or maybe
even a sense of responsibility to my having provided him a safe refuge,
a bath, and lots of food, but he never slapped my hand away or brought
my antics up in conversation.  If he'd been a little girl I might have
wanted to pull her panties off and finish my meal with a lovely hairless
clam pie.

Between Sasha and me we did a pretty good job of putting a dent in
everything we'd received, but even after an hour of whispered chatter
and plenty of munching we still had stuff left over.  I knew he couldn't
let anything go to waste, but I had to slow him down when I saw him
looking pretty 'green around the gills' from stuffing himself so much.
All it took was a reassuring whisper into his right ear for him to
finally relent.

"I'm sorry I ordered too much food, Sasha.  Next time I'll be sure to
tell them to send us only half as much so none of it goes to waste."

He might have wanted to argue, but he had to claim defeat after he'd
eaten far too much in one sitting.  Knowing how he'd react to food being
thrown out I scooped the uneaten fish onto the vegetable plate, covered
them with the left over bread, and then placed a single metal plate
cover on top of that.  Since the radiator in the room was off but the
one in the bathroom was working nicely I placed the remaining food plate
on top of the bathroom heater and shifted the dessert plate to the small
table.  We wouldn't be able to eat any of the remaining food for a
while, but I wasn't going to keep Sasha from taking little tastes when
his tummy would permit it.  My young guest might have thought I was
trying to keep the remaining food out of his reach until I moved the
chair I'd been sitting on in front of the radiator so he could retrieve
the plate if he got hungry after I'd fallen asleep and before breakfast.

The food cart was tidied up, the empty plates and bowls stacked, and
then the cart wheeled to the hall right outside the door.  After a quick
call to the receptionist to let them know to retrieve it I tucked yet
another dollar bill under a napkin for Dimitri and locked the door after
closing it for the last time that day.

My teeth were brushed and after a few minutes in the bathroom by myself
to take care of my personal routine I called it a day.  Even though we
hadn't talked about it I knew where Sasha was going to sleep, and in
spite of what someone in the hotel might think I wasn't going to make
the boy sleep in the closet or bathroom.

Wearing my French-cut Jockey shorts I prepared the bed and looked at
Sasha as he walked out of the bathroom after taking care of his own
business.  He might have looked apprehensive about what I might have on
my mind, but all I had to do was point to the opposite side of the wide
bed for him to know where he was supposed to sleep.  He must have
misunderstood me, because instead of pulling the covers back and getting
in on the other side of the bed closer to the window he dashed across
the darkened room and jumped into bed under my arms.  The obvious sound
of the bedsprings made certain nobody in either of the next two rooms
would miss what we were up to, and I was again smiling at the sound my
bed made.

Sasha almost disappeared under the covers by the time he got halfway to
the other side, and when he tugged the top of the bedsheets and blanket
down just far enough for me to see his face I couldn't suppress a
chuckle.

"Hee, hee ... are you comfortable, Sasha?"

"Tee-hee."

He nodded to me and then giggled, so I knew he was comfortable and
happy.

I'd slept with a lot of children before, most of them my playmates or
'hired entertainers', but I'd also provided quite a few a place to sleep
without any requirement for sex.  They'd get it if they asked later on
in the evening or before we got out of bed the next morning, but I'd
gotten into the habit of leaving the child alone if they didn't want me
pawing at or molesting them.  The best way to confirm if they were
expecting me to anticipate sex was to turn away from them when I climbed
into bed, and just as I'd done many times before with a child who wasn't
expected to 'perform' after the covers were pulled into place I turned
away from Sasha and relaxed.

I was most likely snoring less than five minutes later.

Some time during the night I had to use the bathroom facilities, so I
checked on Sasha, found him almost behind me, and helped him up so he
could go pee as well.  I knew my way around the hotel room by that time,
so I didn't turn any lights on after I put his feet to the bathroom
floor.  Just as I'd seen so many children do before he climbed onto the
commode after pulling his shorts down, emptied his bladder, climbed off,
pulled his shorts back into place, and stumbled back to bed.  Moments
after I'd assumed a similar posture and position to rid myself of used
food I flushed the commode and returned to bed.

No more than ten seconds after I settled down with my back turned to him
Sasha wiggled his way across the bed and snuggled into my back.  It felt
nice for him to share his body heat, although he probably was trying to
steal mine instead.

By the time my wristwatch alarm went off the sun was already up, but as
far north as we were that wasn't uncommon at six in the morning.  My
first task was to take care of my business, so off to the bathroom I
went.  While I was yawning and staring at the wall near the commode I
saw the plate of food was missing from the top of the radiator.  I
figured Sasha wouldn't be able to resist finishing it, and I'm glad,
because he probably had to go without until someone like me provided a
temporary bounty.

After I finished my business, the chair was moved back to its former
location, and then my morning routine conducted as if nothing could be
more normal.  Dimitri must have been psychic, because as soon as I was
dressed I heard a knock at the door.  To preserve what little dignity
Sasha had I ruffled the sheets so he'd be more covered and then answered
the door.

"Good ... morning ... my friend."

He seemed genuinely proud to speak English, so I responded in kind.

"Good morning, Dimitri."

He rolled the food cart into my room, received a dollar bill for his
efforts, and was gone and down the hall in seconds.  I could have sat
down and gotten right to it, but I had to check on my young guest, even
if his tummy was still full from eating the rest of the food from our
dinner.  Acting in a parental and loving role I sat on the same side of
the bed where I'd slept all night, tugged the covers back a little bit
where I expected him to be, and had to work them much farther down than
I'd anticipated.  When I uncovered his face he was staring back up at me
with a look of fear all over his sweet countenance.  Poor thing.

"Do you want to eat?"

All he could do was shake his head while looking up into my eyes with
what I could only imagine was absolute terror in his brain.

"I tell you what ... I'm going to eat and finish getting ready for work.
Get up in a few minutes and take care of your business.  I'll leave some
food for you if you're going to be hungry a little later."

The look of fear was quickly transformed into one of sadness, tears
filling his lovely electric blue eyes, and his cute mouth turned down
into a pout.  Rather than looking as if he might be uncomfortable with
what I'd told him it seemed as if he was unsure if the dream he'd fallen
into was real, and he probably was hoping he'd never wake up.

To allay his fears a little I pulled him into a sitting position,
wrapped my arms around his half-undressed body, and gave him a long slow
hug.  He seemed to like my affectionate nature quite a bit and shared my
hug with his short arms going around my body as far as they could reach.

A minute later I was sitting at the small table by the window and
uncovered the first of three plates.  Contestant number one was a normal
portion of a fried potato cake sprinkled with salt and pepper.  Number
two was most likely four eggs scrambled together and something that
looked and smelled like pork sausage.  The third plate was filled with
six slices of toasted bread and a small custard cup of the local butter.
There were also two glasses, one with water, the other with what looked
like watered-down orange drink, and an empty cup with a carafe that must
have been partly filled with coffee.

I could have gotten busy and stuffed my face with everything in sight,
but my young guest's presence in the bathroom seemed to bring me back to
his plight, so I shifted the toast out of the way and used that plate to
serve about a third of the potato cake, eggs, sausage, and two slices of
bread.  The bread might not remain crisp and dry by the time Sasha ate
it, but I'm sure he'd be so pleased with the food he wouldn't care.

The coffee wasn't as strong as I'd have liked it, but it was satisfying
enough to serve its purpose to help wash everything down.  It was while
I was staring mindlessly out of the small window at the people outside
beginning to conduct their morning routine that I felt a small hand
touch my left arm.  The moment I turned Sasha flinched and cowered away
from me, as if I might hit him or something.  I felt horrible, because
he might have been used to that sort of treatment and probably expected
it since he was dependent upon their mercy and generosity.  To rectify
that temporary oversight I reached out and whispered.

"No, Sasha!  I won't hit you.  Come here."

He lunged forward and threw his arms around me again, his face buried
into the side of my chest, and a rhythmic quiver in his body telling me
that he was crying.  How could anyone treat such a tender and loving
child with such cruelty?  It was obvious he was an affectionate and
gentle little boy, and he most likely needed a family to call his own
rather than the daily prospect of hunger, neglect, and abuse.

All it took was for me to tug him up onto my lap and return his embrace
for me to hear his cries for the first time that day.  I'd heard
children utter that same sort of sentiment before, a few times at my
behest, but with Sasha sitting in his underpants and his silken skin
under my hands I didn't like the idea that he would be sad much longer.
I didn't know how I was going to help him, but my financial abilities
might extend beyond some gracious tipping and a two week employment
stint for a cute little boy who couldn't have been more than six or
seven years old.

His hunger or the smell of the food must have eventually gotten his
attention, because after he exhausted a few minutes of tears he turned
his head around and wiped his eyes dry.

"Would you like to see what I've done?"

His animated nod confirmed how appreciative he was.  Sasha let me go,
twisted on my lap until he was sitting sideways, and kept his right arm
around my body either to hold himself in place or to illustrate a sense
of affection that was developing between us.

"Look here ... you have your own plate of potato cake, eggs, sausage,
and toast with butter.  I've even left the glass of water and some
orange juice for you, okay?"

He looked at the bounty for a few seconds and then turned his face until
he was staring up into my gaze.  What he did next might have seemed
strange to anyone else, but with the kind of life I suspected he'd lived
and my experience with needy children I wasn't shocked when he reached
around my neck with his left hand, pulled himself higher, my face lower,
and then pressed his crimson bee-stung lips to mine.

Maybe I should have resisted kissing him, but he seemed to need to
express a form of intimate thanks that he'd probably shared with at
least one other adult man in his young life, so I cupped the back of his
head and closed my eyes a little bit.  If I couldn't have a little girl,
then I could at least fantasize about kissing a half dressed six or
seven year old angel in my hotel room.

What should have been no more than an innocent two second kiss turned
into my wiggling my tongue between his lips and exploring his teeth and
eventually the inside of his small mouth.  Rather than pull away in fear
Sasha surrendered himself and allowed me to bathe the inside of his
mouth with the tip and face of my tongue.  In my lust-clouded haze I
even caressed his chest and stroked his nipples enough to get them
firmed up.

The only thing I didn't do was tuck my right hand between his legs or
down inside his shorts.  Reality was just too apparent, and I had no
desire to tumble down a long and twisted road of homosexuality with a
little boy.  He probably wouldn't have minded, and he most likely would
have taken his shorts off, climbed onto the bed, lifted his little
round butt into the air, and surrendered his body to me for as long as
I wanted to take it *if* I chose to amble down that wicked path.

What I did after I pulled back, smiled at him, wiped my saliva away from
his lips and around his mouth, and then caressed his face might have
appeared prudish in other situations, but tugging him into my chest and
holding him still for a few moments seemed to comfort rather than scare
him even more.  Both of his small hands caressed and stroked across my
clothed back while I did the same to his bare skin, our appendages
expressing a sense of gentle acceptance between an older American male
contractor in Russia, and an orphan little boy who needed the comfort
and support from a confident and affectionate pedophilic parent.

Time was against me, since I needed to go meet with the local building
construction director, at least one community council member, the two
Russian company representatives, and one or two dozen local workers who
most likely didn't like outsiders telling them what to do.  But Sasha
seemed far more hungry for my embrace than he was for the food, his grip
tightening when I hinted he needed to climb down off my lap.

"Nyet!"

"You need to eat breakfast, Sasha, and then you have a job to do,
remember?"

He snapped his head back and looked up at me in shock as if he knew I
was about to fill his tender backside with something that didn't belong.
I could tell he was thinking along different lines than I was and chose
to remind him of his employment obligations.

"It's your job for the next two weeks to watch my things for me, okay?"

The instant he smiled his whole face lit up.  His slightly crooked teeth
shown like beacons, his cheeks puffed up, and he couldn't help but
squint from the plump pink clouds of softness below his eyes.

"Are you still willing to work for me and protect my things while I'm
out working?"

He nodded and smiled as if I'd told him he'd have a whole city filled
with food and toys.

"Good.  I'm glad."

I'd barely told him that I was pleased with our employment arrangements
when he pulled on my head again and puckered his lips.  Since he was so
willing to let me kiss him, and it wouldn't do any harm to fantasize
about doing that to a little girl, I twisted my head just enough so we'd
both be comfortable.  Our second kiss proved he'd been paying attention,
and I felt his wiggling pink tongue push past my lips and into my mouth.
I spent a lot more time kissing him as he sat on my lap than I should
have, and I was sure he could feel the throbbing menace beneath his
pantied ass.  Had I been more willing to walk the dark side I might have
coaxed him onto the bed for a few minutes of stress relief.

It took a minute or two, but I was eventually able to break our kiss and
smiled down to him.  I might have wanted to express all sorts of empty
emotional platitudes and burden him with psychological baggage, but a
smile, a caress of his cute face, and a tweak of his button nose seemed
far more valuable at that moment.  Even after I got him off my lap so I
could get going he kept his hands pointed toward my face and his lips
puckered as if all he wanted to do for the next few hours was lock lips,
but I was going to be late if I chose to let him tempt me.

He got a quick kiss and before I changed my mind his clothes were
retrieved from the radiator in the bathroom, placed onto the bed so he
could climb into them, and then I walked toward the hotel room door.  I
couldn't even get it open before Sasha ran up behind me, threw his arms
around my waist, and hugged me with as much passion as his little body
could produce.  He then said something that tore at my heart.

"Please come back for me."

I broke his hold of my body, turned around, squat down in front of him,
and was again at the receiving end of his need to express hunger in a
form that I was very comfortable with.  My right hand found his soft
backside, my left the featureless area of his back, and my lips an area
along the left side of his neck that seemed to make him happy and give
me as many giggles as I wanted.

"I'm going to come back, Sasha.  You'll take care of my clothes and
personal toiletries, and you can stay inside the room all day if you
want.  If you go out just be sure to be careful."

"Can I be with you some more when you come back?"

"You sure can.  From now on and until my work is finished you can stay
with me and pretend you're my child, okay?"

"Really?  We can be ... together?"

"Uh huh!  Now ... give me one more tiny kiss and go eat your breakfast
after you get dressed."

What was supposed to be a quick peck on the lips turned out to be his
tilting his head as I had before and his arms going around my neck to
keep me in place until *he* deemed our kiss a success.

I'd kissed dozens and dozens of little girls before, many of them so
young they thought I wanted them to suckle on my tongue as they had on a
woman's breast, but Sasha seemed almost fanatical in his pursuit of long
and erotic lingual and labial exchanges with me.  Our tongues danced
back and forth for quite a while, and in my recollections of long, dark,
and cold nights when I had a young entertainer in bed with me to do with
as I wished my right hand dipped down inside the back of his underpants
until I had a hand full of his soft round bum.  He never once seemed
offended by my blatant sexual move and kept kissing me as if nothing was
wrong.

The littlest ones always had the sexiest little bums, and Sasha's was no
exception.  My fingertips traced a series of long slow lines up and down
the tight and deep crease of his ass, the smooth area of his butt so
tempting I might let him talk me into a whole new set of potential young
entertainers after I moved on.  I might have been tempted to touch him
enough to get my heart racing, but after I tickled far enough under to
coax him to lift his butt and spread his thighs I had to stop.  If I
wasn't careful I'd push his undershorts down, carry him to my bed, turn
him face down so I had clear access to something I wasn't supposed to,
stay in the room longer than time would allow, and I'd be late for my
first meeting.  He might have been not only willing to let me but also
enjoy my gentle manner, but all it took was the thought of what he had
between his legs a little further forward of my ambitions.

It took far longer than it was supposed to, but I was eventually out of
my hotel room and headed down five flights of stairs.  Luckily I saw
Dimitri before I got to the lobby, and with yet another folded up
dollar bill tucked into his left hand I whispered so nobody else could
hear what I said.

"Dimitri ... Sasha is going to stay in my room to protect my things, so
I don't want anyone to  "

He didn't even let me finish.

"Oh!  My friend Pres-ton ... I would be happy to do this."

"No, no, no, Dimitri.  You will leave Sasha alone and let him stay where
he is right now.  If he wants to go out and come back then you won't say
anything or stop him ... do you understand?"

"He?  Preston, my friend ... don't you know that Sasha is "

Before he could say anything more I cut Dimitri off.

"Dimitri ... I think I know Sasha well enough in the short time I've
gotten to know him to trust that he'll stay in my room and protect my
things, so just leave him alone, okay?"

"Yes, but ... still ... Sasha is "

"I don't want to hear anything more about Sasha, Dimitri."

Squeezing his hand with the bill under my fingers should have made my
point clear, as well as my intense stare into his eyes.  In spite of my
repeated insistence there was something in the way he looked back at me
as if he might call the local police militia to investigate why I wanted
an orphan to stay in my room.  All it took was another squeeze of the
bill in his hand and a nod from my bellhop to confirm his understanding
of what I was hinting at.  After all, I could always eat each meal out
and eliminate his getting almost as much money per day as my room rate.

Once I was sure he understood my wishes I carried my camera down to the
receptionist, had her store my property in their office safe, and I was
off to work.

Just like so many first impressions the Russian work crew initially
thought I was some meddling foreigner who must have paid quite a hefty
financial inducement to some political official for me to get work in
their country.  All it took was the right kind of words spoken with
enough sincerity about some of them learning everything that I knew
before they began to grasp what my mission really was.

Each time I'd look into one of the men's faces and saw a mixture of
fear, anger, exhaustion, and what I perceived as hopelessness I felt a
measure of guilt that wasn't warranted.  Of the many men I worked with I
saw lots of unshaven rough skin, a few broken and missing teeth, eyes
that must have seen years of unrelenting boredom, and unkempt hair that
hinted at long nights in a bed that wasn't their own.  All it took was
for me to keep their features and expressions in my mind whenever I had
a fleeting lurid thought of Sasha and how eagerly that little boy seemed
to want my kisses.  It didn't sit well with me after a while, because
the men I worked with held no fascination for me, so Sasha shouldn't
either.

During lunch I visited a local department and grocery store.  A small
tube of mint toothpaste, a new toothbrush, a comb, and a bar of soap
were located and purchased.  The whole bill might have been two dollars,
but in rubles it cost far less.

By the end of that first day I actually heard one of the men come to my
defense when a portly man from the Ministry of Licenses showed up.  All
manner of accusations were made about our work permits and licenses
being out of order or incomplete, but my team saw right through his
bluster and bravado and told him, in no uncertain terms, that everything
was correct and the job proceeding as the Russian contractor required.
The fact they chose to downplay my being an American contractor and
construction advisor made me feel good.  Their support would be rewarded
soon enough.

I worked with plenty of hard working men who took pride in their jobs,
did as much as I could to keep the paper shufflers and busybodies off of
the job site, and made sure to organize the work crews so they had
plenty to do but still had enough work for months.  If I was lucky
they'd be able to get an extension to the contract and finish a second
and third job near the same construction site as the one we were working
on.

On the way toward the hotel at the end of the day and along the crowded
streets in a series of small congregations of tables I saw all manner of
second-hand-goods sellers.  Used kitchen ware, older tools, and plenty
of clothes seemed to be their primary offerings, and it was while I was
glancing over someone else's shoulder that I saw some clothes that might
fit my young male guest.  Why not?  Sasha certainly could use some newer
clothes, and from the prices I'd heard of other items the few things I'd
buy wouldn't cost that much.

When it was my turn in line I asked if there were some clothes I could
buy for a young friend of mine, like shoes, pants, and tops.  The woman
looked at me with a suspicious glare for a moment, probably suspected I
was nothing more than another foreigner who had a young orphan girl to
keep me warm at night, peeked around me, looked me up and down as if to
size me up, then side-to-side, and then pulled me around her table.

Under the pile of clothes being supported by an old piece of furniture
she opened a dirty cardboard box and showed me what must have been
purchased from a Russian pornography photographer.  There were almost a
dozen outfits that I'd recognized from years of kiddie porn collecting,
most of the items still in fairly good shape after a cursory check.

Three items stitched together so they wouldn't get separated made me
smile and stirred lots of memories of me sitting in front of my computer
back home.  The larger piece of fabric must have been a tiny miniskirt
and was covered in hundreds of glittery green and silver thin plastic
disks that sparkled in the late day light.  The narrow elastic band that
was attached to it was featured the same way, and must have been the
matching tube-top for an incredibly short micro-miniskirt.  The last
item of the trio was a pair of little-girl-sized high heel shoes with
the heel lifted up at a perverse angle.  It was obvious any little feet
forced to wear them must have been *very* uncomfortable, but made the
tender beauty who donned them look hideously sexy.

I would have bought the whole box, but there wasn't anyone to wear them
for me and keep them after I left, so I smiled, lifted my eyebrows
enough to tell the old woman I might be interested, and then shifted my
attention to something a bit more appropriate for a little boy.  I got a
pair of fairly new black lace-up sport shoes with a name brand logo that
people around the world recognized conveniently removed, a nice looking
short sleeve shirt with a college logo that wasn't printed as well as it
should have been, some thick pants with frayed edges along the bottom
opening of the legs, two fairly clean undershorts that had the waistband
elastic stitched the wrong way out, and two pair of socks.  They might
have been white at some point, but must have been washed with colored
items that left them slightly less bright.  A few dozen rubles later I
was carrying a plain brown paper bag of clothes with me, the purchase
during lunch of some toiletries, and wearing a broad smile.  Sasha was
going to be very happy after he saw me.

By the time I walked through the hotel lobby doors I was exhausted.  My
camera was retrieved and checked right in front of the young female
receptionist, Ilyenka, my actions sure to shock her because of what that
might imply.  But instead of trying to confirm that nobody had done any
harm to my electronic property I showed Ilyenka a few photos of what I'd
done in Moscow, and then a quick movie of me walking around in Red
Square with lots of other tourists.  Rather than be horrified or angry
she seemed to enjoy the brief show.

Once I was able to confirm everything was how I'd left it when I handed
it to her that morning I collected my possession and headed toward the
old wide staircase.  Dimitri stopped me before I could take my first
step off the lobby level toward the fifth floor and might have wanted to
speak my native language, but all I had to do was greet him in Russian
for him to smile.

"Greetings, friend!"

"Pres-ton ... the maid told me your possessions were no longer in your
room when she made your bed and changed your towels.  I am sorry, but
Sasha must have taken them to sell."

And to think I'd fed the little shit and provided him a place to take a
bath and sleep out of the cold.  To say I was disappointed was minor,
but as I'd expected and had to deal with at least once before since I'd
visited Asia I wasn't truly shocked.

"Thank you, Dimitri."

The bellhop gently held my arm close to my wrist and had a terrified
expression on his face.

"Pres-ton ... did Sasha take your money as well?"

Yeah ... I kinda figured Dimitri was more interested in getting all of
my tips rather than what I might have to wear or brush my teeth with.

"I'll have to check, Dimitri.  I hid some of my money before I left, and
I'll have to see if it's also gone."

I was glad I'd stopped during lunch to pick up something to brush my
teeth with.  I wouldn't be able to wear such small clothes, but one more
day in what I wore that day wouldn't hurt.  Dimitri then whispered
something that sent a chill down my back.

"Should I call the police and tell them you were robbed?"

"No ... that's okay.  I'll go get some new things after I eat dinner."

"Would you like for me to bring you as much food as yesterday?"

"No, thank you.  That was more food than I could normally finish by
myself, but with Sasha there we were able to clean our plates."

"Pres-ton ... the dessert plate is where you left it yesterday, so Sasha
must not have seen it before taking your things."

"Thank you, Dimitri."

"What time should I bring your dinner?"

"How about in an hour?  I need to rest for a few minutes first."

"Very well.  I'll bring your dinner to you in an hour and leave it
outside your door."

I didn't figure I'd be getting the 'white-glove' treatment by Dimitri
for very long once my money was gone.

It felt stupid for me to be carrying a plain brown paper bag with some
children's clothes in it and another one with a few bathroom supplies,
but rather than throw the clothes away before I got to my room I could
always hand the things to some street urchin the next day.

My hotel room door was unlocked, I stepped through the open door, and
then closed and relocked it.  Rather than throw the two bags of items to
the floor I set them down onto the small table by the window and turned
around to plop my ass onto the bed.  The moment the bedsprings quit
squeaking and screaming I had my eyes closed and was ready for sleep.

About a minute later I heard the bed squeak again, but with much less
noise, indicating the presence and weight of a smaller body.  If it was
Sasha I would wait until he was close enough for me to grab so I could
grill him about the disappearance of my personal property.  But instead
of trying to pick my pockets while I was apparently asleep he shifted up
the bed and over far enough to lean into my left side.  I could have
grabbed him, but he wasn't trying to stick his hands in any of my
pockets.  Rather than trying to rob me he tucked his left arm over my
tummy, snuggled his body under my left arm, placed the right side of his
face against my chest, and let out a low sigh.  It seemed all he wanted
to do was lie next to me and seek out some of my warmth and comfort.

My left hand shifted over his back, caressed him a few times, and must
have been a signal to Sasha for him to lean even harder into me and
climb up on top of my chest.  Even though I knew he was a little boy I
couldn't help but wrap him up in a snug embrace and hold onto him.  I'd
have preferred he was a little girl so I could relieve some of the
tension I was feeling, but I'd have to wait until I slipped a few dollar
bills in the right hands so I could have a young entertainer visit me
that next Friday and Saturday nights.  But it was what Sasha said in a
low whisper that made what Dimitri said seem antithetic.

"I'm glad you came back for me."

Many little girls used similar words in various languages, so I didn't
take it personally.  Maybe I should have,  because then I could share a
kind of innocent affection I had with such broken little empty lives and
give them hope for a day when they would have a benefactor on a full
time basis.

For Sasha to utter those words after the way I'd kissed his lips and
fondled his butt along the inside of my hotel room door just before I
left that morning made me feel a little guilty.  It was obvious he
didn't mind me touching him in a sexual way, nor did he think kissing me
was a major crime, in spite of how the Ministry of Justice might have
felt if they knew I'd licked along the inside of his mouth with my
tongue and slipped my hand down his back and along the inside of his
underwear.  Just the way Sasha spoke and the way he seemed so relaxed as
he lie on top of me confirmed he'd accepted what I might try to do the
next time my hands were close enough to touch him.

He lie on top of my chest for quite a while, no more words shared until
I felt it was time to find out what happened to my personal belongings.

"Sasha?"

"Uh huh?"

"The maid told Dimitri that my property was missing from my room.  I
thought I was paying you to protect my things.  What happened to them?"

"I hid them."

A sensation of warmth and relief filled me.  Rather than rob me blind my
young guest had taken his job very seriously and protected my things as
I'd asked him to.

"You did?"

"Uh huh!"

"Where did you hide them, Sasha?"

"In a secret hiding place that nobody knows about."

"Would you show me, please?"

"Do you promise not to tell nobody?"

"I promise."

Instead of getting up off my body he hesitated for a few moments and
then whispered.

"Mister Preston?"

"Yes?"

"Will you kiss me first?"

Instead of answering I tugged him up my body, positioned his mouth over
mine, and kept my eyes closed while I gently munched on his lips and
tongue and licked the inside of his mouth.  He seemed to really enjoy
that wicked game and just as quickly wrapped his short arms around the
back of my neck and head.  Any pretense of being reluctant to kiss a
little boy was gone after he started to repeat with my lips and tongue
what I'd grown eager to do with his.

The most I let my hands do was cup and fondle his butt outside his pants
and undershorts, the soft glory of his tender backside just tempting
enough for me to undress, molest, and then take his tight ass.  All it
took was the idea that he was outfitted just like I was between his legs
for me to keep from tucking my fingertips down inside his clothes.

After our kiss lasted a few minutes he shifted his face to my left cheek
and kept his arms locked tight around my head.  The feeling of love was
much stronger between us than I could have anticipated.  Sure, I could
pretend to love him and give him a couple of weeks of wonderful dreams
and a life time full of hopes, but lying to a child isn't something that
made me feel any better about what my immoral passions were.  Yes, I
enjoyed their bodies and paid most of them for their willingness to give
me a few hours of pleasure, but after the first couple of broken hearts
I knew to keep my emotions to myself.

After he sighed into my cheek and then kissed it Sasha broke his hug and
climbed up off me.  All it took was a gentle tug on my left hand and a
quiet request for me to follow him.

"Come on.  Let me show you."

He led me to the large empty closet, opened the tall door, ducked down
toward the back wall, and fumbled with something along the edge of the
wooden frame.  A moment later he pulled a flat wooden panel out, set it
along one of the side walls, and then disappeared out of sight like a
mouse.

My knees came to rest on the floor along the open doorway, I ducked
down, and saw him looking back at me from inside a large hidden cavity.
It took a little while for my eyes to get adjusted to the darkness, but
once I could see inside the inky blackness I began to understand a lot
more about Sasha's desire to remain in my hotel.  All he had to do was
find a way into a room and then work one of the wooden panels inside the
closet free until he had a rather impressive refuge.  I wondered if he'd
done the same thing to every room in the place.

The most significant aspect of his hiding place were the metal pipes
that supplied water to the sink and bathtub, and the heat coming from
the steam pipes keeping the area very warm.  What took me by surprise
was how clean it was inside, no thick cobwebs or mountains of dirt piled
up along the edges.

During my investigations of his domain I saw my bag of clothes and
personal items positioned just inside the entrance, everything I'd put
there that morning before I left most likely just as I'd left it.  All
I had to do was smile and scoot back for Sasha to wiggle out, pull my
bag with him, replace the wooden panel, wipe away any evidence of his
having gone inside and climbed back out, and then move my property out
further into my hotel room.

As soon as he stopped moving, fumbled with the handle of my bag with his
head turned down and a look of concern on his face I couldn't resist my
need to open my arms as wide as I could get them and silently ask for a
big hug.  He practically bowled me over when he flew forward and lunged
at me, his arms going around my head and his little body pressed tight
to the front of mine.  In spite of my repeated mental assurances that he
wasn't going to be my next young lover I couldn't resist fondling his
ass for a minute or two.  The cute little thing was just so tempting.

His desire for another kiss was just as strong as my need to have a tiny
playmate for the next few days, his mouth positioned against mine, and
his tongue wiggling between my lips until he laved my tongue and teeth.
Any insinuation that I was molesting him could have been squelched when
I felt him hold my face in place and kiss me with a passion that little
boys usually reserved for little girls.  I wanted so desperately to
undress him, take him to bed, and spend the next few hours with his butt
against my hips.

Thankfully someone knocked on the hotel room door before I was tempted
to pull his pants and undershorts down.  Sasha scurried back into the
closet, pulled the door closed, and went silent.  With my travel bag
moved to a spot behind the hotel room entry door I unlocked and then
opened it to see a tray of food sitting on the floor, but no cart, and
no Dimitri.  Figures!

The tray was brought inside, the door closed and locked, and our meal
taken to the same small table by the window where we'd eaten twice
before.  Along the way I tapped on the closet door and whispered into
the poorly painted surface.

"Our dinner is here, Sasha."

Just before I set the tray down I shifted the brown paper bag and
plastic shopping bag to the bed, and then pulled the chair out so I
could sit down.  Sasha was so quiet I didn't notice his presence until
one of his hands was pressed against the side of my left arm.  All I had
to do after that was pat my lap twice, and he was quick to wiggle his
way into place.

As I'd done with our last dinner I uncovered the first two plates, but
before I began to eat I did the same with the next two.  Rather than
five plates of food and one more of dessert we had three of food and one
more of pastries.

The main course was two pork sausages in natural skin casing on a bed of
boiled white cabbage.  The vegetables were greens of some kind, peas,
and what looked and smelled like hominy corn.  Sasha was handed a slice
of black rye bread with a light layer of some butter, one more prepared
for me the same way, and then my fork shared so we could cut and then
eat our meal.

The last time we ate dinner he was sitting in his underpants and I was
playing with his left titty.  During our second dinner I held him around
his chest and kept him tight to my body so he could enjoy the meal
unmolested.  All of the food was very satisfying and eventually
consumed, nothing left over to munch on during the night except for the
plate of pastries and the other one of desserts from the previous day's
meal.  What surprised me was Sasha's need to tidy our area up, get off
my lap, retrieve the other dessert plate, bring it back with him, and
set it next to the pastry plate.  When he looked up into my eyes with a
forlorned expression I was worried he might have learned something about
the food that bothered him, but his whisper changed that.

"Mister Preston ... I'm sorry, but I was hungry today and ate one of the
small cakes that was on your dessert plate.  I know you didn't give me
permission, but ... I couldn't wait until dinner."

The poor little boy must have been scavenging for food all his life, and
yet he felt it necessary to apologize to me about eating a small portion
of something that I might have overlooked anyway.  He was getting harder
to resist by the hour, and my earlier wish to keep an unemotional and
dispassionate distance from him and do my best not to break his heart,
or mine, was fading.  Sasha was just so precious and becoming hard not
to fall in love with.  I knew how I was going to react before he could
finish begging for an apology.

"That's okay, Sasha.  I'm not angry with you at all.  In fact ... I'm
glad you ate something."

He looked up at me with a wide-eyed stare and left me with the
impression that he'd tried something similar with someone else in the
past, but was rebuffed and then beaten for his minor crime.

"You ... you're glad?"

"Uh huh!  If I had so much to eat again like yesterday I might EXPLODE!"

Lunging toward him and tickling his tummy at the moment of my loud
exclamation made him squeal in fear for a second and push my hands away,
but once he realized I was just playing he tugged on my hands and seemed
to ask for more.

"Ohhhh ... so somebody needs to have some tickles, huh?"

"Tee-hee-hee!"

He was lifted into the air, carried sideways to the bed, dropped down
onto our soft sleeping domain just enough for him to bounce once and
then rebound into my hands, and then tickled along his tummy and ribs
until he was squealing and giggling and wiggling around in ecstatic joy.

His laughter was infectious and his face never looked so bright.  He
might have wanted to resist my tickling him so much, but I could tell he
needed to be tickled almost as much as he needed to be wanted and loved.
Sasha was such a precious child, and the more time I spent with him the
more time I *wanted* to spend with him.

It was only that dreaded phrase I heard that forced me to stop torturing
him and lift him to his feet.

"I gotta pee!"

With one of his hands between his legs and his little feet carrying him
in a dash toward the bathroom I couldn't help but chuckle at how special
it looked for my young playmate to sprint away so quickly.  The bathroom
door was left wide open, and after he'd gotten his pants and undershorts
down I heard the unmistakable sound of pee hitting water in the commode
after he climbed onto it.

Our dinner tray and plates were collected, carried to and through the
hotel room door, placed onto the floor to the side, a dollar bill tucked
where the last one had been placed, and the door closed and locked.

Sasha was going to have a wonderful surprise when he came out, and while
I waited for his return I retrieved the items I'd purchased for him, set
them out on the bed, and then took up a spot near the pillows.  In a
move that looked even more playful than when I heard him squealing under
my fingers, after the commode was flushed Sasha came running back out of
the bathroom with a full head of steam and a face beaming in happiness.
He might have wanted me to tickle him some more, but after he jumped up
into my arms and started to tickle my ribs I grabbed his hands, held him
still for a moment, and then whispered right into his mouth.

"I've got a surprise for you, Sasha."

His eyes got big, his smile seemed to extend from one ear to the other
one, and there was a child-like hunger in his stare that left me with
the impression that he'd never seen the glories of a Christmas morning.

Rather than look around and steal my chance to make him happy Sasha kept
looking into my eyes and waited.  All I had to do was twist his body a
little bit, turn him so he could see everything laid out along the far
end of the bed, and then watch him burst into tears.  Instead of trying
to touch and examine his 'new' things he turned his body to face me,
threw his arms around my head again, and sobbed into the side of my
neck.  I'd never felt more powerful in my whole life.

My poor little friend must have cried for two minutes without taking
more than half a dozen breaths between stifled weeping.  I couldn't
imagine the kind of hardships he'd had to contend with if something as
simple as a few clothes, a toothbrush with toothpaste, and a small bar
of soap could elicit such emotions.  He then said something that made me
feel more guilty than the first time I'd had sex with a preteen girl.

"Please let me stay with you, Mister Preston.  Please?"

The way I was feeling at that moment I was almost tempted to say yes,
but he was a Russian orphan, and I was an American contractor with just
under two weeks on my contract in his town.  The best thing for me to do
was kiss his tear-streaked cheek, wipe his soft skin dry, and then
whisper for him to see his new things.

"Come see what I've gotten you, Sasha."

Instead of jumping on the bed and trying to touch everything as quickly
as he could Sasha wanted to remain on my lap, his left arm so tight
around my neck that I was sure he thought I might drop him to the floor.
It was apparent he wasn't going to move, so I shifted down the bed and
made the springs squeak and squeal with my movements.

To see him happy again I made a game of hopping up and down with my butt
shifting only an inch or two so the bed would decry such cruel abuse.
My tactic eventually worked, and much sooner than I anticipated his face
was filled with a smile again.  That was my cue to tug his new shirt
closer and let him look at it in great detail.

To see South Carolina's Clemson University logo on the front made me
wonder how many people from that great southern state had ventured so
far from home.  With so many American clothes being manufactured around
the world I had to accept I might see something even from *my* home town
of Ada, Ohio, and the logo of Ohio Northern University.

Sasha touched the fabric back and forth and seemed more interested in
how it felt than how it looked.  His pants were pulled closer, the open
portion along the waist placed onto his upper thighs as if I was trying
to see if my recollection of his size was accurate, and then his socks,
underpants, and black sport shoes tucked close to his knees.  It must
have been more than he'd ever received in his life, because he just sat
there silently and barely shifted his fingers over the clothes until he
turned to look into my eyes with his lips trembling.

"Are you gonna wanna feel good with your thing between my legs, Mister
Preston?"

It was obvious he thought my gifts were to negotiate the price of his
tight ass surrendering to my sexual needs.  Rather than be shocked I
kind of expected his reaction.

"Have other men done that with you, Sasha?"

His head going up and down a couple of times confirmed his awareness of
what a gift could mean.

"Was it lots of men?"

He shook his head and barely got his reply out before I saw another
tear.

"No ... just one."

"Did he hurt you?"

When his head went up and down and a slow cascade of tears started to
fall I felt horrible about wanting to touch and molest him.  But most
people didn't consider what an orphan might want, or how the use of
their bodies might affect them.  Most adults who loved orphan children
thought of them as hot living holes to be used, abused, and refused.

Even though I'd spent quite a few nights in bed with many young girls
none of them were ever forced to comply with something they didn't
enjoy, even if I'd paid a fair price to do anything I desired.  In spite
of my dark history and the likelihood that my antics could get me locked
in some dirty foreign jail cell if someone learned of my hunger I still
couldn't resist the effect a little girl's body had on me.  As long as
I could touch and look at one for a little while I didn't insist she
'perform' like an adult if she wasn't ready for it.

To see Sasha weeping while looking at his new things filled me with a
combination of dread and determination, a sadness that I might not be
able to keep him from harm, but a strong need to do what I could so he
wouldn't have to be anally raped just to survive.

In spite of my need to fuck something young and tight I wiped his tears
away and whispered into his left ear.

"I'm not gonna make you do that, Sasha.  These things are for you to
keep because I like you, not because I expect you to give your body to
me, okay?"

He turned to his left far enough for our noses to touch and looked as
deep into my eyes as he could.  Back and forth his eyes went, from my
left to my right, trying to see behind the facade that I kept between me
and the outside world.  All he knew was the strange generosity of an
American man who offered him candy, some food, a bath, a place to sleep
and stay, and then a bounty of clothes that all had to have a price.
Nothing was ever free, and he seemed to know there was something he
might eventually have to do to compensate me for such lavish gifts.
When he spoke there was an obvious tremor to his voice and a tone that
hinted at my attempt to deceive him.

"But ... when we kissed it felt like you wanted me to do all that stuff
that made that other man feel good."

I could have lowered my eyes in humiliation and embarrassment, because
Sasha was right ... I *did* want to feel good like most adult men who
craved the soft silken flesh of little children's bodies.  Rather than
lie about it I decided to be honest and share how I felt.

"You're right, Sasha.  It felt very good for me to kiss you ... and
touch your bum with my hand.  But I did that only because I thought you
liked me to do those things.  Now that I know you were only doing it to
make me happy, but you didn't like it, I won't do it any more."

"You ... you won't?"

"No, Sasha.  I'll hug you a little bit to make you feel warm if you want
to, but I won't put my hand inside your underwear or try to kiss you
when I wanted to feel those special tingles.  When I need to feel good
I'll find a little ... someone to help me feel those nice tingles and
ask you to go hide some place that night until they're gone.  You can
still have all these clothes and even the other things."

"Other things?"

"Uh huh.  I got you a new toothbrush, your own tube of toothpaste, and a
bar of soap, too."

He saw the other items, touched the unwrapped bar of soap, and then
turned back to face me.

"You'll really let me have all these things?"

"Uh huh!  It's all for you.  If you want to you can even hide them from
me so I won't know where they are in case you're worried I might take
them away from you."

"And ... you won't make me do those things like that man wanted ... you
know, when he put his thing between my legs and even ... even inside my
butt?"

"No, I won't."

He waited a minute, fumbled with the edge of his new shirt, and mumbled.

"Do you really want a little girl so you can feel good, Mister Preston?"

"Yes I do, Sasha.  I know it's wrong, but I like how little girls feel
and how they look when they let me take all their clothes off.  But the
difference between me and some other men is my desire *not* to hurt the
little girl or make her do things she doesn't want to.  If she likes
lots of tingle feelings and is willing to let me play with her body,
then I'll do everything I can to make her feel really good and make her
smile.  I want her to remember me as a nice naughty man, not a mean
naughty man.  Does that make sense?"

His slow up and down nod confirmed his understanding of pedophilia and
my desire to practice that dark art with a willing little female
entertainer.  I was beginning to wonder if he might send one to my room
for a small 'handling' fee.

Rather than maintain a somber mood it was time for me to get cleaned up
and think about sleep.  Sasha could have assumed a million things about
our relationship after my admissions, but he wouldn't be forced into
something that would make him remember me as a cruel and insensitive
American pervert.

"Put all your things back inside the paper bag and be ready to hide them
tomorrow so nobody can find them.  I'm going to pay you for watching my
personal things for the next two weeks like I said.  If you feel safe
with me in bed then I'll let you sleep next to me, and I won't make you
take your underwear off, nor will I try to touch you.  From now on you
and I will just be good friends and you'll be my employee who's taking
care of my stuff when I'm at work.  Now ... I'm going to take a shower
and get ready for bed.  While I'm in the bathroom you can go hide your
things in another room or just leave them in my closet until after I go
to work."

And with that I gave him a noncommittal kiss on the cheek, lifted him
off my lap, rose from the bed, gathered my things, and took them to the
bathroom.  A few minutes later I was in, out, and ready for bed.

His things were still where I left them, so I retrieved the bag, put his
new clothes and toiletry items inside, rolled the top edge of the bag
down, and then placed them on the small table where the tray of food had
been and where the two plates of dessert items were waiting to be eaten.
All I had to do was shift my head to the side a couple of times toward
the table for Sasha to stand next to me.  A moment later I lifted the
first plate of desserts and held it in front of his chest.

He might have wanted everything he saw, but all he did was take a sample
of chocolate cake and watch me as he munched on it.  He didn't have to
eat alone, because once the plate was put back down I picked up what
looked like a cross between a donut and a cookie, took a taste, and then
munched on it while making some yummy sounds.

"Mmmmmm!"


"Tee-hee!"

To hear Sasha giggle and see him smile with chocolate all over his lips
made me feel good.

My limit was two dessert treats that late in the day, so after I
finished the first item I pushed against Sasha's back, motioned for him
to take something else, and after he collected a pastry that looked a
lot like mine I tried the second portion of chocolate cake he hadn't
eaten.  It was so thick and gooey that it felt as if I had a mouth full
of sweet glue, but ohhhh did it taste good.

After licking my fingertips I knelt down next to Sasha and spoke in a
low voice.

"You may have any of what's left over, Sasha.  You may keep it here in
my room, or hide it if you want to.  You can eat it tonight while I'm
asleep, or wait until tomorrow after I go to work.  You can share this
with me if you want some, or leave it here for me to eat.  I want you to
be comfortable and happy, because I like you very much."

I never saw him move.

His arms seemed so closely matched with the contours of my neck that it
was as if we were meant to be together.  I could have touched him in a
lot more affectionate manner, but after our chat a few minutes before I
thought it best to keep my antics somewhat low key for a while.  If he
wanted to kiss me again or liked being touched, in spite of my
reluctance to fondle little boys, Sasha would let me know.

I pushed him back, looked into his electric blue stare, and then
whispered to him.

"I'm going to get in bed, Sasha.  If you want to take a bath, then you
go ahead.  If you'd like to try on one of your new underpants and wear
them to bed, then do that.  If you still feel comfortable sleeping on my
bed after what I told you before, then I won't say no.  I'll make sure
to wake you up in the morning when breakfast arrives, okay?"

He nodded, gave me another hug, and then looked into my eyes as if he
thought I might want another erotic kiss.  Even though I was tempted I
decided to shift him out of the way and get changed for bed.  With the
sound of the bed squeaking and complaining about my bulk I spoke to my
young friend without looking at him.

"When you go take a bath be sure to turn the light in my room off."

After I was under the covers and facing away from him Sasha walked
across the room, turned the light off, retrieved his bag of clothes, and
then disappeared into the bathroom.  Even though he'd heard me tell him
that I was in need of preteen female companionship he didn't close the
door after going inside.  It felt so relaxing to hear him sing what I
assumed was a nursery rhyme tinged heavily with political rhetoric.
Before I realized it I was asleep.

Some unknown period of time elapsed before I woke up from a bad dream
about something happening to Sasha.  The heat I felt against my back in
my dreams was an attempt to rescue my young friend from a burning
building, but I'd arrived too late.  After I was able to return to the
relative safety of cool clean air with Sasha in my arms and with the
help of emergency medical personnel tried to restore his life, but he'd
suffered from smoke inhalation and had died before I could get there.

Crying in my dream would have been considered normal, but for my chest
to feel heavy and my face wet from weeping after I woke up proved I
cared more for his young life than I'd imagined.  The heat I felt in my
dream was actually his small body tucked tight to my back in real life.
He even had his right arm around my waist and one of his legs far enough
between my thighs that it could have been considered his desire to do
something to me that he'd told me was painful for him.

Rather than assume too much I held his small arm to my body, opened my
legs just enough for him to have a little more room to get comfortable,
and then tried not to think about the painful aspects of reality as an
adult American pedophile with a child in my bed.  It took a minute or
two but I was asleep before either of us moved.

My sleep was again disturbed when I felt him shifting far enough over
the right side of my chest after I'd turned onto my back.  Even though
he knew I wanted a young girl for pleasure he didn't seem the least
afraid to be so close to me in bed, and I wasn't sure if he was just
confident or foolish.  The best thing to do was not make too many
assumptions about what he wanted or what I might be able to do, so I
helped him get comfortable on top of my body, fixed the covers so we
were both warm enough, put my arms over my shoulders, felt him nuzzle
his left cheek against my bare chest, heard him sigh, and tried to go
back to sleep.

Had it not been for his right knee pushing down on my half-hard cock I
might have been able to return to a land of dreams and imagination.  He
couldn't possibly know what he was doing or how it affected me while he
slept, so I repositioned his body so his knees fell along the outside of
my hips.  Once he was lying 'froggy' style over my body I was able to
relax enough to fall asleep.

An hour or so later I was lying on my right side, Sasha was facing me,
his right knee was again pushing against my cock, and I had my left hand
down inside the back of his underpants.  It might have been excused as
an absent-minded move while I was dreaming of a little girl, except for
the tip of my left middle finger stroking his pursed rosebud, and our
lips pressed together in a very knowing and erotic fashion.  Had it been
just me stuffing my tongue into his mouth and Frenching him like a
pervert he might have had provocation to be mad, but his tongue was just
as busy in my mouth, so he was either dreaming of kissing me, or he was
awake and an active and willing participant.

It took a few seconds to find the right moment to tilt my head back and
break our kiss, because Sasha kept following me as I moved.  It was
obvious he enjoyed kissing as much as I did, but after I'd told him that
I wasn't going to hurt him and wasn't expecting 'payment' for the food,
clothes, and accommodations, I needed to stop him or I might lose the
last of my reluctance and turn him around so I could get some relief.

"Sasha?"

"Uh huh?"

"You're kissing me, Sweetie.  If you keep doing that I might forget what
I said and be tempted to do lots of naughty things to you.  Maybe you
should move to the other side of the bed after I turn around, okay?"

"Nyet!!!  Please let me stay close to you, Mister Preston!"

"But ... my hand is where it shouldn't be ... "

Wiggling my middle finger between his butt cheeks and around his pursed
muscular opening was enough to make him flinch and giggle.

" ... your knee is pushing against my ... thing ... "

Arching my back, pushing into his knee, and then squeezing his leg was
ample proof that he might not have been aware of what he was doing.

" ... and your kissing me is making me want to ... to feel good like
that other man did.  I don't want to hurt you, Sasha.  You're such a
lovely child that I want to protect you ... not hurt you."

For him to caress the left side of my face with his right hand and place
a series of little kisses on my lips felt so relaxing and yet so erotic.
After a few more I couldn't resist him and began to nibble on his lips
until he pushed forward and presented his tongue to me.

Just as many of my young girlfriends did before the moment I took
possession of his pink muscular appendage I suckled and nursed on it as
if it was a lactating woman's nipple.  He thought it was funny enough to
giggle while I had his tongue inside my mouth.

In order to alleviate some of the tension I was feeling I began to play
tongue swordfights with him, wiggling the end of my tongue against his
until he giggled again and returned my playful antics.  For the next
minute or so we lie facing each other, his right hand across my left
cheek, my left hand tucked around his fanny, and our tongues dancing a
strange, lewd, and passionate tango.

To my amazement he stopped playing first and held my face in place so he
could wrap his lips around my tongue and suck on it as if he was trying
to fellate me.  Had he been old enough to know what he was doing I might
encourage him to help me feel better.  When he arched his back and
pushed his butt into my hand I wiggled the tip of my middle finger along
and then around his quivering ridge of pursed muscles.  Instead of being
offended and clamping his cheeks around my finger he moaned into my
mouth.

With the tenderness of a mature teacher to an eager pupil I was able to
wiggle the first segment of my finger into his butt.  He moaned again,
seemed torn between fighting me off and asking for more, and began to
bob back and forth with my stiff tongue in his mouth.  His antics were
hard and forceful enough to break down far too much of that homophobic
wall that I'd erected long before I knew I was a pedophile.  In a move
that was sure to get me into a *lot* of trouble I teased at his ass,
rocked my hips into his leg, pushed my cock against his knee, and kept
wishing that he was a little girl so I could achieve satisfaction.

It was finally too much.  That artificial barrier that I'd put up a long
time before was just too ominous, so I withdrew my fingertip, pulled my
hand out of the back of his underpants, retrieved my tongue, turned in
place much faster than Sasha might have expected, and then walked to and
into the bathroom.  The door was closed, my hands washed, and then I
spent the next few minutes masturbating.

The sensation of relief made my return to bed a lot more comfortable.
He might have been nervous or unsure why I'd left, other than the sound
of the commode flushing, but Sasha couldn't even wait until I was
settled under the covers facing away from him before he had his arms
around my neck and was trying to turn me around so we could kiss again.
Once I was turned over and facing him I tried my best to be firm but
adamant about my last and best attempt to be decent.

"No, Sasha!  No more, please!  You're making me want you, and I don't
want to hurt you, Sweetie.  Please go lie down on the other side of the
bed so we can get some sleep.  I'm not mad at you, but I am mad at
myself.  I told you I wasn't going to touch or kiss you, and just a few
minutes ago I was doing both of those things.  I know you don't
understand, but it isn't right to expect ... to want ... to ...  "

I felt like such a hypocrite.  For the last six years I'd been renting
lots of little girls so I could sex them, or at least touch their sex in
as lewd but gentle manner as I could, and I was lecturing a Russian
orphan about resisting what I was hungry for.

It was obvious he'd heard me, because he remained close to me and kept
his mouth near mine.  I could feel the heat from his nostrils as he
breathed, and in spite of what I'd asked him to do he chose to stay
tight to my body and was most likely looking right into my eyes.  Since
the window was behind him I couldn't see clearly enough to determine
where his gaze was, but he definitely could see my stare as I tried to
peel back the layers of reluctance and curiosity that must have been
tumbling around in his mind.

The best and most appropriate thing to do would have been to kick him
out of my bed and hotel room, but that would have been just as cruel as
putting some American money in his hands after raping him.  The smart
thing to do was to give him an innocent hug, push him across the bed
until he was just beyond the middle, turn around, settle myself under
the sheets, and then go to sleep.

My body hadn't even begun to warm the sheet under and coverlet over me
before I felt Sasha moving toward me from across the bed.  In a way I'd
hoped he would be that bold, and I pretty much assumed he was so hungry
for emotional and psychological affection that he'd want more than he
might be willing to give a perfect stranger.

My craft was the reason for my success rate with so many preteen foreign
orphan girls, and it meant that they'd be far more eager to surrender
their bodies to me than to protect them as they should have.  In spite
of how often I was able to get a young girl in my bed I was still
gentle, affectionate, and made sure to help them understand as much as
they could about why it was so easy for me to talk them into doing
things that little girls should never let adults do.  It certainly
wouldn't make *other* pedophiles happy for my young female playmates to
resist other men, but my goal wasn't to help those men, but protect the
resources that kept me happy.

Once he was close enough to touch my back his right hand caressed along
the outside of my right arm.  It must have been a test for both of us;
me, because I'd told him to stay on his side of our shared bed, and him,
because he knew he wasn't supposed to invite me to do things that he'd
already told me another man tried.

Since I didn't say anything, try to swat his hand away, or push against
him he touched me a second time.  But instead of withdrawing his hand he
left it along my arm and shifted toward my back.  After a few brief
shifts closer he was near enough to push his chest to my back, his lips
to my neck below my hairline, and his right arm under my arm and around
my chest.  His body trembled while he was moving his hand and felt the
hairs on my chest, and when his lips placed a tender kiss on my skin on
the center of my neck I felt the Earth move.

"Sasha ... are you sure you want to do that?  You're going to make me
want you again, and I don't want to hurt you, Sweetie."

In a whisper that barely made it to my ear from his mouth no more than
four inches away he sounded scared, but excited.

"Mister Preston?"

"Uh huh?"

He hesitated, ran his right hand back and forth over my chest and then
down my belly until he touched the waistband elastic of my shorts.  When
I felt him wiggle his fingertips under the edge and started to push them
inside I felt a hunger than no amount of considerate discourse could
allay or sate.  He knew what he was doing, and in spite of our shared
gender I was under so much stress and need for complete relief that I
didn't make him stop.

His pace was slow but constant, his breathing along my neck so rapid and
deep I knew his heart was hammering in his chest.  But it was what his
small hand was doing wiggling further into my shorts that had both of
our attention, his position shifted further down my back once his reach
was exceeded.

The moment he was close enough and had regained an adequate position his
hand moved those few last inches until he touched and then began to
stroke along the base of my cock.  The throbbing in my head was nearly
as intense as it was inside my dick, the hunger and curiosity of yet
another young child coaxing them to do whatever I needed inside my
underwear.  The fact that I was shaved as smooth as he was at his age
might have been a surprise, but it wasn't enough to make him stop or ask
questions.

What should have taken him much longer only took another minute, his
short fingers extending far enough around my erect penis to encircle
just over half my tool.  His grip tightened, slackened, and then
tightened again, as if he was trying to milk me without the up and down
movements to complete his task.  It didn't matter, because his touch was
so thrilling and my level of arousal so strong that I could tell the
front of my shorts were already wet with precum.  If he tried to jack me
it might not take more than three or four complete cycles before I'd
erupt all over the place.

Fortunately he decided to shift his hand further toward the end rather
than bring me to orgasm, although the longer he touched me and the more
brave he became I was concerned I might fill my shorts and the area
directly in front of me with far more than a little clear ooze.

The moment his fingers traced a series of lines around the circumference
of my glans he stopped, took my dick in hand, and then reached up as far
as he could with his mouth to attempt another whisper.

"Mister Preston?"

"Yes?"

"Can I make you feel good ... with my mouth?"

Sweet Julius!  He wanted to give me a blow job.  What the fuck?

I truly didn't know what I wanted at that moment.

Should I accept the gift and revel in being the recipient of something
so precious that I'd never granted any other male human being in my
life?

Should I politely refuse and try to get myself out of a situation that
I'd never wanted to be in from the outset?

What would happen after he fellated me?

Would I want to return the favor?

Would I, instead, want to take his butt and feel the warmth of his lower
orifice as I had a number of younger girls who were too small or too
young for vaginal sex?

It was obvious I'd taken too long to answer him, because Sasha asked me
a second time while playing with the end of my cock just inside the
tight fabric at the tip.

"Can I, Mister Preston?  Please?"

To hear him plead with me like that was a sign that he'd capitulated and
would give me anything I wanted, even if it hurt or scared him.  I was
so desperate for affection and pleasure that I wanted to say yes, but I
was still too scared of what I'd do with him and every little boy from
that point on.  I was actually afraid I might prefer boys over girls
after he proved how much he wanted my love.

It took another half minute of his touch and my uncertainty before I
whispered back.

"Not yet, Sasha.  It isn't that I don't want to feel good, but I've
never been with someone ... who ... it would be better if we didn't,
okay?"

"Then ... can I touch your thing when we're kissing for a little while?
I want to make you feel good any way I can."

"Why, Sweetie?"

"I don't know ... maybe because you're so gentle and don't do mean
things to make me hurt."

"But you know you shouldn't have sex with men like that, Sasha.  Why do
you want to with me?  Didn't that other man scare and hurt you when he
did that stuff to your bum before?"

"Yeah, he hurt me, but he didn't care about me none.  All he wanted was
to feel good in a hurry.  After he made me cry and felt good when he
pushed his thing in my butt and squirted his stuff he told me to go away
and never come back.  He was mean and didn't even want to make me feel
good none.  You're not like that.  You feed me, and give me things, and
tell me to be careful, and try to protect me.  It makes me want to be
with you a whole bunch, because ... because I love you."

Well ... it was true.  I'd affected Sasha enough for him to convince
himself that he actually loved me.  Poor little boy.  He was so starved
for attention and affection that all it took was some food, lots of kind
words, a few meager gifts, a little polite consideration, and he truly
felt as if he couldn't live without me.  The fact that he surrendered
his body to me like that proved he needed something more than the basic
necessities to survive.  For me to accept such a willing child and let
him take control of my cock satisfied more than a little of my need at
that time.

Is that how homosexuals were created?  Is that how men talk little boys
into being their lovely little sex toys?  Is that how little boys learn
how to please older men and eventually share their affections for other
boys and younger men until what was once an innocent and naive lad was
turned into a flaming homosexual?

The longer it took for me to respond in some way the more determined
Sasha became.  What was a slow and gentle exploration of my penis became
his firm tug on my cock to my right, as if he could lead me around the
bed by my dick.  The pitiful thing was, his resolute insistence actually
coaxed me to roll to my right with just enough speed for him to shift
out of the way.  Once I was on my back he moved the sheet and bedcover
off my chest, pushed it down to the middle of my upper thighs, and then
worked my cock out from inside my shorts.  I was sure Sasha was going to
blow me after all, until he twisted his body just enough to lean over my
body and press his mouth to mine as he touched and fondled my erect
cock.

What a strange reversal of roles!  In a move that I'd attempted with
plenty of little girls Sasha had succeeded in talking me out of my
shorts and had his hand on my junk.

I might have been willing to let him touch and kiss me, and I was
initially resolute in my determination that I wouldn't respond in kind,
but the longer he fondled me the less I cared.  Yeah, I was getting to
be a pretty weak hypocrite as each minute ticked by, but his small hand
and curious fingers had worked their magic on me so well that I couldn't
resist his touch any longer.  I might fight him off if he tried to wrap
his lips around my cock rather than my tongue, so it was best for me to
let him get his jollies long enough to satisfy him.  Of course, if I
felt good along the way that was a bonus.

His lips and tongue seemed to understand a lot more about passionate
kissing than any other child his age, and what I'd taught him was coming
back to me in dividends.  I might have wanted to caress his bum and toy
with his little pink pucker, but if I did that I wouldn't be able to
stop.  I knew myself very well, and that man was a horny lech when a
child let me touch their naked body.

The sensation of release was so close my balls began to throb and
tingle, so it was either make a mess of the bed, or try to get him to
stop.  When I tried to get him to stop and pushed his mouth away from
mine he jumped to his right, wrapped his hungry mouth around my cock
head, and didn't give me a chance to fight him off.

The instant he had control of me he stopped for a moment as if to
reconsider what he'd done.  There were a few moments where neither of us
moved a muscle, our hearts hammering in our chests, our lungs filling
and emptying of air faster than normal, and a sense of pleasure around
our darkened union that seemed to grow with each passing second.  We
were both at a crossroads that we'd never anticipated we'd see, and
when I shifted my hands to try to get him to take his mouth off my dick
Sasha flicked his tongue around my glans inside his mouth and then drew
more of my manhood into his young boy mouth.

The longer he kept his lips around my dick the less I fought the need
for release, and the more I wanted him to let me finish.  Each time I'd
barely touch his head with my fingertips to encourage him to break our
wicked bond the harder he's suck or the further down my penis he'd wrap
his lips.  It was almost as if he wanted me to resist him so he could
try that much harder, and I needed to resist him with every measure of
my strength.

"Sasha!  You ... need ... to ... stop!"

The tremor in my voice and the way my body went rigid were clues that my
young lover couldn't miss, and yet he seemed just as determined to stay
where he was as I was to resist his need to please me.  I wanted so
desperately to hold his head in my hands with just enough force to
control his movements and then fuck his mouth until I let go, but each
time I'd touch or get close enough to touch his face or head he'd do
something more.  If I was going to hold out the only thing I could do
was clamp down on my abdominal muscles and keep perfectly still.  I had
no desire to erupt into his mouth and scare him, because my first blast
would quickly be followed by at least five more, whether he wanted what
I offered or not.

My efforts finally proved successful when he pulled his mouth off of my
dick, wrapped the fingers of his small hand around the throbbing object
that had been in his mouth, and he turned his face to the left to look
up my body.  He must not have expected to see me grimacing, because he
let go, sat up on the bed near my right hip, and seemed horrified.  His
expression only changed when I exhaled sharply and then began to pant as
if I'd run up all five flights of stairs in our hotel.

"Sasha!  My goodness, please don't do that again!"

"But ... didn't it feel good, Mister Preston?"

"YES, it felt good!  That's why I'm asking you not to do that again."

"But ... I don't understand.  If you liked it and it felt good, why
can't I do it some more?"

"Because, Sweetie ... I ... I, uhhh ... just give me some time to think
about this, Sasha.  We just met, you tell me you love me, you want to
please me, and I don't want to hurt you.  I'm very confused right now,
so I need for you to obey me tonight, okay?"

"Can ... can I still sleep with you and hold you really close?"

"Sure, Sasha.  I'd like that very much, but you have to keep your hands
out of my shorts, and don't try to put my hands inside yours, either.
Let's just get some sleep and talk about this tomorrow night, okay?"

"Will you promise to be nice to me tomorrow too?"

"Oh, Sasha ... I'll be nice to you all the time, Sweetie.  Just give me
a chance to think about this for a little while.  Now, go rinse your
mouth out with some water in the bathroom and then come back to bed."

"Okay!"

He was up so fast I didn't have a chance to tell him that I needed to
use the commode first.  Thankfully in his excitement he rinsed his mouth
out and was back less than a minute later.  What he didn't anticipate
was for me to be getting out of bed while he was jumping onto it.

After a few strokes behind a closed bathroom door I was able to relive
the memory of such an immoral deed with a little boy's mouth.  Maybe it
was the fact that he was my gender and only old enough to go to first or
second grade that made the deed that much more wicked and illegal, but
once I'd obtained a sense of relief and release I was able to think more
clearly.

The bed was right where I left it, and waiting under the covers on my
side of that bed was a timid and anxious little Russian orphan who was
probably just as confused as I was.  My feet were pushed in and under,
my butt shifted as far from the edge as his position would allow, and
then I pulled Sasha tight to my right side so he wouldn't be afraid I
might kick him out of my bed, my room, or my life.

He settled into me as if we'd been lovers or lifelong companions and let
out a long sigh that signaled the release of his own form of tension.
My right arm was around his back, strummed his soft bare skin along his
spine, and a few light kisses placed onto his forehead and nose.  He
giggled once, snuggled a little closer, and then stopped moving.  In a
matter of a minute he was softly breathing into my neck and had his
right arm tucked around my chest.

Morning arrived far sooner than I'd have preferred, my watch alarm doing
its best to roust me from a deep erotic dream.  I didn't like admitting
what that dream was about and how much I was enjoying the lurid fantasy
of fucking Sasha for hours on end, over and over, his little ass lifted
up in the air, and his whimpers begging me to keep doing it until I was
satisfied.  To say I was shocked at my own erection and the sensation of
lust made me doubt so much of what I thought I knew about myself, but
the fact that my right hand was still outside his underpants and my
shorts were equally empty of visitors proved that I was able to contain
my drowsy lust.

I left Sasha where he lay and started my morning routine.  While I was
in the shower and behind the plain white curtain I heard him open the
bathroom door and imagined him peeking inside.

"Mister Preston?"

"Uh huh?"

"Can I go pee?"

"Sure, Sasha."

A few moments later I heard a rush of relief little more than five feet
away from where I was standing under the hot water.  Had he been bold
enough to step into the shower with me I might have taken that last step
through a door that had always remained closed, but Sasha finished his
business, flushed the commode, and then left the bathroom.  I was both
pleased and disappointed at the same moment.

By the time I opened the door and emerged from the bathroom I was clean,
shaved, had my hair combed, teeth brushed and rinsed, and was dressed.
Sasha was at least dressed, his new shirt and pants on his body, and a
broad smile on his face.  It was apparent we were growing closer,
because I sensed that he wanted to show his appreciation with a hug, so
I squat down onto one knee before he even let a whimper escape.  It felt
good for him to hug me and express himself in such a normal and innocent
manner.  Compared to the previous night his snug embrace made it seem as
if we'd never done anything other than hold hands.

A knock on the hotel room door sent him away yet again, this time into
the bathroom rather than the closet.  Just as he'd done the previous
night Dimitri left a tray of food on the floor in front of my closed
door rather than face me in my supposed cash-strapped condition.  I
kinda liked the new way, since he wasn't nearly as eager to empty my
pockets as he'd been twenty four hours before.

Sasha sat on my lap as he'd done a few times before, and we ate our meal
with soft chatter, some giggles, low laughter, and plenty of timid hugs
and touches.  In spite of what he'd offered me the night before in our
shared bed as a last gesture of affection and submission my young guest
was much more relaxed and at ease while we ate.

All too soon it was time for me to go to work, and Sasha asked if he
could remain out of my room during the day.  He received my door key, I
opened the entry portal, made sure nobody was watching, and then let my
little friend lock the door before I watched him scurry down the hall
toward a back stairwell opposite the main entry.  If he lost my key I
could always ask the receptionist for another one, even if I had to pay
for the one I'd misplaced.

Since my team was eager and on time I got right to work and shared
everything I could about what we were going to accomplish.  I even took
the time to instruct three senior workers in things that made me a
rather indispensible commodity.  They were ecstatic I'd be so gracious,
and rather than consider me an American contractor who was muscling in
on their turf they saw me as a teacher and ally.

About thirty minutes before lunch I made a discreet exit.  Right at the
top of the midday hour I returned inside a small van with one other man.
My crew was concerned until they saw me and the driver open the side
door of the van and haul out container after container of some unknown
contents.  It was only after the driver made his way off the large
construction site before the same three men who'd received such valuable
instruction about their new trade walked up to me.

All it took was a single container being opened for their eyes to get as
wide as Sasha's did when I showed him his first bounty of food.  For the
next hour everyone under my responsibility enjoyed a wonderful lunch
meal, no matter how senior or potentially insignificant their position.
That pretty much cemented our relationship and assured me that my crew
was going to do their best to make sure the job went well.  The fact
that our lunch meal was so cheap made the effort no less special, but I
didn't have to fork over wads of cash to make both ends of the deal
special to everyone involved.

There were a number of times that day when I'd think of Sasha and what
he'd done for me.  In spite of our gender and his age I had to find a
way to offer him something just as important and equally as intimate.

I was in such a mind-clouded fog that by the time I was standing in
front of my hotel room I'd forgotten I'd given him my door key.  My
concern wasn't warranted, because he must have either seen me approach
the front of the hotel from the small window, or heard me walk up to the
door.  As soon as I turned the door knob and pushed I was able to step
inside.

What I saw took my breath away.

Even though I'd resisted him the night before and asked him not to make
his body available to me I actually stopped halfway through the door and
stared at his timid smile and piercing blue eyes as they gazed back at
me from under the top edge of the covers on the bed.  When I saw him
extend his left hand toward me and give me a pitiful hurt puppy dog
expression I knew what he'd allow and what I was going to do.

The door was closed, locked, and then a quick trip made to the bathroom
to pee and relieve some tension.  If I was going to surrender to what
I'd never considered before I wanted it to last more than a minute.  It
didn't take me more than twenty strokes before I felt a lot better about
what my body needed, and yet I felt even more unsure of myself because
of how completely I'd accepted what I was about to do with a little boy.

Emerging from the bathroom wearing nothing more than my shorts I saw
Sasha's face erupt in a bright crimson blush and his smile go from
nervous tremble to cheek splitting glee.  My young guest and lonely
Russian orphan friend knew I was going to make love to him, and he was
going to be treated as tenderly as was possible.

The covers on my side were pulled back a little bit, my watch checked so
I knew how long to spend with Sasha before dinner arrived, and then I
climbed into bed with a little boy who might have been completely naked
for me.  As soon as I was about halfway across my half of the bed I
reached over his head, pulled him into my body, and gave him a long slow
hug.  It was the perfect mood breaker, because he sighed into my neck,
snuggled a little bit to get comfortable, and then presented his lips to
me.

Without any pretense or delay I held his face with my left hand, dropped
my right hand down his back, and cupped my digits around his bare butt.
Just as I'd anticipated he waited for me in the nude, my willingness to
take him on a long slow journey of pedophilic homosexual love started
with my hand softly kneading his full round ass.

We kissed and explored each others' mouths for quite a while, my index
and middle fingers teasing my young student's fanny until he broke our
kiss, panted into the side of my head, and asked for my permission.

"Mister Preston?"

"Yes, Sasha?"

"May I touch you too?"

"Sure, Sweetie.  You may touch me as much as you want to ... even if you
want to make me feel good with your mouth like you tried last night."

His eyes went wide, his smile almost went away because his jaw dropped,
but he didn't hesitate more than a few seconds before he pushed his tiny
right hand down inside my shorts.  While looking right into his eyes I
let a little preteen boy take my cock into his hand so he could fondle
me and prepare for his next and most terrifying task.  It didn't take
long for him to hint that he had a job to do, the covers pushed back
enough to give him plenty of room, and then my shorts pushed down my
legs until I was just as naked as he was.

I was still terrified of what I was allowing him to do, and the best way
to accept what was about to happen was to close my eyes, lie back, and
wait for my young partner to work his magic.

The moment his small mouth encircled my penis was like an explosion of
erotic pleasure.  Nothing had prepared me for the awareness that I was
going to let a boy fellate me to orgasm, if he could, and then turn him
over so I could lift his ass into the air and have anal sex with him.

For ten minutes Sasha kept working his mouth further and further down my
cock until almost half of it disappeared between his lips.  It seemed
that was all he was going to handle until he grew braver or learned
enough to swallow and accept my tool, but it was plenty for me to feel
that wicked tingle that would eventually spell my doom.  Thankfully I'd
worked myself over with a quick masturbatory warm up in the bathroom, so
our next journey into immoral homosexual pleasure was going to last more
than just a minute or thirty.

By the time he'd begun to get the hang of what made me feel really nice
based on how I reacted to each move, suck, and lick, I was beginning to
feel that welcome buzzing deep between my thighs.  I'd surrendered so
much already, and with my young male lover doing his best to convince me
to take him back to America, whether he realized it or not, I let my
right hand slip down to where he was squatting next to my right hip.
All it took were a few soft caresses along his lower back for Sasha to
understand that I wanted to fondle his cute butt.

He wasn't nearly as skilled in the dark arts as I would have expected,
because he had to let me go so he could push his legs along the right
side of my body so I could touch him.  Once he was in place with his
chest against my right hip and his crotch pushing into my ribs I cupped
his round fanny and stroked up and down that long curved crease.

He liked the way I touched him and seemed to follow my lead, his mouth
going up my cock when I dragged the tips of my index and middle fingers
upward along his tight crease, and then his mouth going as far down my
dick as he was comfortable when I tickled as far between his thighs as I
dared.  I knew I'd eventually touch him down there, but playing with his
cheeks and then teasing at his pursed array of pink muscles was going to
take time and only be shared when I got around to it.

I got around to it when I felt his mouth go a lot further down my cock
than he ever had before.  With Sasha bobbing up and down on my dick and
his frequent whimpers sending a cascade of tingling vibrations all the
way up my spine I slowly teased at his cheeks where the curve of his ass
met the back of his thighs.  Less than an inch later I was caressing his
tight little pink rose and enjoying it a lot more than I was ready for.
Just as I'd done the night before I rolled my fingertip around his
puckered opening, his legs twitching when I did it just right, and his
ass pushed backward into my hand when he needed more.  He eventually
needed enough for me to tickle at that tight 'eye' and wiggle the end of
my digit just inside.

His mouth stopped moving the instant I had the first segment of my
middle finger tucked inside his butt.  All it took were a series of slow
in and out movements for his hips to begin quivering, his thighs to
convulse in spasmodic waves, and for his ass to be pushed backward to
invite more.  In a matter of ten minutes he got all he could handle.

For his body to be convulsing erratically and his ass clamping down onto
my finger proved I'd been able to please him.  All he needed to do was
keep shifting his mouth up and down my penis and I'd be able to share
what I'd afforded him.  I knew he was too young to cover the side of my
body with anything more than some clear ooze, but unfortunately he
wouldn't be afforded the same consideration.  After the fullness of his
cum washed through his body he was able to refocus and redouble his
efforts on me.

He was almost able to achieve his aim a few minutes later, my longest
right digit still teasing at his butt, and my tissue-filled left hand
near his face.  He was going to spit everything I gave him out of his
mouth less than a second after it went in.  I just hoped he wouldn't
puke all over me.

Sasha must have been wired for sex, because before he'd been able to
satisfy me he was again suffering the effects of an older lover's
attention who knew far too much about what he was doing to his younger
lover's body.  It finally proved too much for Sasha, his mouth coming
off my dick, and his body almost doubled over from the constant series
of orgasmic waves washing through him.

"Mister Preston!"

"Uh huh?"

"Put your thing in my butt, please.  It feels so much better for you to
give me good tingles than the other man."

Well ... this was it.  I was going to butt-fuck a hairless preteen boy
for the first time.  How did that joke go?  Build the biggest bridge and
you're called the greatest bridge builder in the world; climb the
tallest mountain in the world and you're called the greatest mountain
climber; but fuck one little boy in the ass ...

Sasha was so out of it I had to help him get settled in bed, his face
pressed into the sheets, his hips lifted by a thick pillow, his back
arched, and his ass pushed into the air like a kitten in heat for the
first time.  The fact that he kept his thighs together might have been
his way of telling me he was scared to death of a man's cock stuffed
into his tight ass, and in a way I liked the idea that I couldn't see
his little wanker and nuts from behind and underneath.

I almost didn't want to look down to see my penis split his soft round
cheeks, but once I wiggled my cock under his body just enough I peeked
and saw a sight that was like none other.  My dick, even as big as it
was compared to my right middle finger, slipped inside his ass and
didn't stop until his butt was pressed hard into my hips.

Oh, how wonderful it felt to have my dick inside a child's body again,
the blistering heat, their muscles quivering with timidity and fear, and
the snug grasp of such illegal flesh gripping me hard.  I could have
fucked him with his body propped up over a folded up pillow, but I
wanted our sex to be gentle, slow, and filled with more passion than
anything either of us had believed.  The fact that I'd disarmed myself
before I climbed into bed meant that I'd be able to enjoy this first
deed and a much more uncertain future than if I just wanted five minutes
of immoral sex with a little boy.

Poor Sasha was whimpering and moaning while I held him tight to my chest
and pulled him with me as I rolled onto my right side.  The pillow that
he'd used to prop his butt up in the air was tucked under our heads to
make us both comfortable, my right hand pushed under his neck so I could
play with his chest and nipples, and my left hesitating at his hip until
I grew brave enough to slip it a few inches further and cup what I'd
never touched before.  I knew I'd be touching, fondling, and eventually
masturbating him once I got over the initial shock, so with each minor
shift of my digits I surrendered to the notion that I'd have twice as
many children to molest and fuck in the near future.

Any pretense of pity for my young partner was lost when he began to push
his butt back hard and then withdrew just enough to nearly cause me to
spill out of his tight grip.  What had been my need for relief quickly
became his need to feel things that would forever tear at his soul like
a pack of jackals.  The more he pushed and pulled on my cock the more I
had to hold him in place to slow him down, so ... this was it.

I shifted my hand around his left hip, tucked my fingers over what I
knew was going to horrify me for a few minutes, and then froze.

Poor Sasha was already nearing release for a second time and couldn't
contain himself ... herself.  Sasha was a girl!

The plump rubbery mons and fat vulva that I thought was going to be a
little peder and small balls took me completely by surprise.  In the
middle of my shock I couldn't hold back what was in my head and
whispered into her left ear as I began to explore her vulva.

"Sasha!?  You're a girl!"

Her surprise seemed genuine, and she was barely able to whimper her
reply.

"Yes, of course I'm a girl.  Why?"

"I was ... I assumed you were a boy."

"A boy?  Me?  Yuck!"

In the fog of astonishment all I could do was hold her in place and arch
my hips just right to stab into her butt far enough to send the perfect
amount of pressure all the way to her G-spot.  Somewhere between holding
her ass tight to my hips, stuffing my cock as far inside her butt as I
could fit, and rolling her left nipple around, my left middle finger
slipped between her fat labia majora and was held in place by the smooth
wet heat of her precious tight slit.  My mind might have been trying to
grasp the reality of what I'd just learned, but my left middle finger
had no problem locating and then rolling her little clitoris around.

It was when she started to buck and jump around in my grasp that my
middle fingertip was pushed just far enough inside her vaginal opening
so I could grip her like a bowling ball.  That's when I took over and
began to pound her ass in long strong strokes until the strain was too
much and she started to scream into the pillow.  That's when I held her
as tight to my body as I could and filled her butt with semen.

We could feel each others' bodies twitching and quivering for quite a
while, my fingertips fondling anything within reach, my face lifted high
enough over her head so I could encourage her to turn and kiss me, and
our breathing so erratic we weren't able to kiss properly until she quit
giggling at me.  It seemed she thought it was very funny for my lips to
try to capture hers when our movements prevented any continuous contact.

I could have disconnected from her once we were both relaxed, but there
was a perverse need for me to stay attached to Sasha.  But Sasha's mind
must have been able to comprehend far more than I'd have believed,
because what she said next within a high-pitched whimper proved that I
had so much more to learn about children.

"I'm sorry, Mister Preston."

"For what, Sasha?  Why are you sorry?"

"Because I'm not a little boy like you wanted.  Now you will send me
away because you thought I was a boy, and you wanted one more than a
little girl."

Talk about leaving her with the wrong impression!

"Please, let me pretend I'm your little boy, Preston ... please?  I
promise I'll learn everything I need to so I can be your little boy."

What a strange turnabout of events.  After the short time Sasha had been
with me I was terrified I might want to become a homosexual pedophile
once that precious little boy succumbed to my desires and I learned
something about myself that I'd always kept hidden.  Rather than feel
the least troubled about what I'd learned I knew I'd have to explain and
convince her, in word and deed, that I wasn't the least displeased that
she was a girl.  It might take me a few days, or even a few years if I
let her talk me into taking her away with me, but once I'd fucked her in
every possible position, and every tight little hole, she'd realize that
I could be happy having a naked little girl in my bed rather than
someone of my own gender.

It took a while and lots of kisses and petting, but I was eventually
able to get Sasha calmed down enough to quit crying.  Feeling her
stutter and sob with my cock in her ass felt truly wicked, and I began
to understand why lots of men loved to make little boys and girls cry
while they were fucking them.  Pain and discomfort still bothered me, so
I shushed into her left ear, kissed her cheek and elfin curl over and
over again, and then whispered.

"I'm glad you're not a little boy, Sasha.  Like I said before, I like
little girls a *lot* more than little boys, and I've never done this
with a boy in my whole life, anyway.  It was only because I ... care for
you so much that I was willing to try this.  Now ... you need to stop
being sad so we can be happy with each other, okay?"

Rather than answer me verbally Sasha nodded twice just hard enough for
me to discern her head going up and down.  After that I needed her to
see my smile so she could share in my happiness.

Her small body was so easy to manipulate on the bed that I was able to
turn her around and then pull her on top of me when I rolled onto my
back.  Any notion of our kiss being difficult after that was dashed.
For quite a while that evening she lie on top of me, looked down into my
eyes with a broad smile on her face, and my hands cupping her luscious
round fanny.

Once she was comfortable and relaxed enough she tucked her elbows into
my body where my arms jut outward, propped her chin in her hands, and
grinned down at me with a squinting stare.  I knew she wanted to say
something, and all I could do was play with her butt and brush her short
hair around on her head.  She looked so much like a cute little boy that
I'd completely misread why she was interested in me.  When she couldn't
hold it in any longer she removed her hands from her chin, extended them
to the sides of my face, held me in place, and then whispered.

"I love you, Mister Preston.  Please let me stay with you for a long
time, okay?"

I then said something that must have meant more than all the food she
wanted to eat and every comfort she could have dreamed of.

"I love you too, Baby.  As far as I'm concerned I'm going to find a way
to keep you for the rest of my life."

It was the wrong thing to say for a number of reasons; first she lunged
forward up my body for a kiss, second in doing so my dick popped out of
her ass, and third that meant we were going to have to make a quick dash
for the bathroom.  I got her onto the commode barely in time to prevent
a real mess between her chubby legs and onto the floor.

Kneeling in front of the commode and splitting her thighs with my body
I held her tight to my chest while we kissed and she cried.  After she
finished her duties, wiped, and then flushed, I lifted her up, carried
her into the shower, and started to wash us both clean.

For her to encourage a second round of sex with her ass while the water
was beating down on us might have seemed foolish, but I wasn't going to
deny my little preteen lover any request she made from that moment on.

By the time we were clean, dry, and back in bed we'd exchanged enough
glances to last a lifetime, and that's just how long I planned on
keeping Sasha.  It was only when she was lying on her back with her head
propped up on one of our pillows with me over and staring down into her
electric blue gaze that I winked at her and began to leave a trail of
kisses down her body.  She might have suspected she knew where I was
going, but I didn't give her any chances to ask questions about my
destination.

The moment I kissed her fat bald pussy she whimpered, arched her back,
pushed her hips up, and forced her labia majora right into my mouth.  I
spent the next couple of hours going up and down her tight crease, a few
licks of her vaginal opening, hundreds more along her clitoris, and her
hands nearly ripping two wads of hair out of the back of my head.

I don't know how many orgasms she had, but when she began to plead with
me in a pitiful high-pitched whimper I knew she was a little satisfied.
What she begged me to do, though, wasn't what I anticipated.

"Please, Mister Preston ... put your thing inside my peepee."

My eyes never left her pussy for the next few minutes, my cock twitching
and hungry to take her last orifice, and only pressed between her fat
nether lips after I looked down into her eyes and whispered.

"Are you sure, Baby?  Do you really want me to do this?"

"Please, Mister Preston?  Please?"

I leaned forward, kissed her as tenderly as I could, and then looked
down my body as the tip of my cock began to push into her vagina.

She flinched, tightened up, whimpered, and sucked her lips between her
teeth, but she never pushed me away.  It looked like she was in turmoil,
so I began to withdraw the invader but was stopped.

"Nyet!  Don't stop!  Push!"

"Are you sure, Kitten?"

"Tee-Hee ... I like that name ... Kitten."

"Okay ... from now on when we're alone I'm gonna call you kitten."

She looked up into my face and with that same hurt puppy dog expression
she muttered a single word that would forever change my life.

"Daddy?"

All I could do was stare down at her for a few seconds, lean forward to
give her a little kiss, and then whisper right into her mouth.

"Yes, Baby ... I'm your daddy now ... your very naughty daddy."

"Tee-hee.  Daddy?"

"Yes, Baby?"

"Can we do this every night from now on ... until you take me to
America?"

It was apparent only then why Sasha had stared at me with such a strong
gaze the first time I walked into the hotel.  She might not have known
it, but she must have considered the possibility of having someone from
the West think of her as something more than a playtoy.  There may have
been more than just that one man who stumbled into her life and coaxed
her to let him take her ass, hopefully so he'd take her back with him to
the United States.  I couldn't be angry with or disappointed in my
little lover, because she'd probably heard all sorts of wonderful tales
of what life was like in that far-away land of so many treasures.

In spite of how difficult it might be and the potential loss of so many
new little playmates and entertainers in my future travels I knew I
could be happy with just one little girl who seemed to bond with me in
a new and very special way.  Yeah, I would need to touch and fuck yet
another little girl even after I might get to keep Sasha, but I'd still
take care of and love her in a gentle and affectionate manner.

All I had to do was smile, caress her pretty face, and whisper in a soft
reply that must have sounded like verbal gold to the naked child.

"I'll make love to you as often as you want, Angel, even if I take
you back home with me to America."

In what had to be an erotic dream Sasha shifted her legs out to her
sides, around my hips, and then hooked her small bare feet across my
ass.  Once she'd locked her ankles together she began to push up into me
until every inch of my cock had disappeared inside her vagina.  Her
forehead was deeply furrowed, her lips held tight between her teeth, and
a pitiful whimper kept coming from her throat that gnawed at me.  I was
hurting my Baby, a little Russian orphan child who I'd promised I didn't
want to hurt, but she kept pushing up into me and encouraging me to keep
us tightly joined.

Thankfully once she'd worked me as far inside her body as I could go she
relaxed, seemed to grow accustomed to the invader, and then started to
fuck me back.  We were quite the team for a while, her frequent spasms
telling me that I'd gotten her off, and my last lunge into her pussy so
I could paint her cervix with as much seed as I could produce.

After she fainted I carried her to the bathroom, cleaned her up, and
then brought her back to bed so we could sleep the rest of the night.

Rather than waking up exhausted I woke up refreshed.  Sasha was looking
at me as she lie against my ride side, she grinned, I leaned down to
kiss her, and then helped her to the bathroom.  She went pee, I also
did, and then I lifted her naked into the shower for a quick wash.  We
climbed out of the shower a lot more tired than we got in, and Sasha
seemed almost Hell-bent on coaxing me to repeat what I had the night
before for as long as we could.

We never did eat dinner the night before, and when I opened the door to
see if breakfast had been delivered Dimitri had timed his arrival to
coincide with my opening my hotel room door.  Evidence of his anger or
displeasure with me was proved when he practically threw the tray of
food he'd brought at me.

With two trays of food the only thing I needed to worry about was if the
previous evening's food might be tainted and make us sick.  It still
smelled and tasted good even cold, so I ate the dinner while Sasha ate
my breakfast.  Our plates were nearly spotless by the time I set the
trays back outside the front door of my hotel room without any tips
because of the way Dimitri had treated me.

The next week was going to be rough, because not only did I have lots of
work to do and a crew to train, but I also had to find time and the
right people to accomplish a task that I never imagined I'd attempt.

Thankfully I'd earned enough points with my Russian colleagues for them
to hook me up with who they thought might be just the right person to
make Sasha's adoption quite a bit easier and most likely a lot less
expensive than other foreigners might pay.  I'd only know for sure after
everything was done, though.  The only problem was the length of time it
was going to take for all the right people to work the deal and get as
many hands filled with the appropriate amount of American money so
they'd provide the necessary forms and assistance.

Rather than looking forward to ending my contract in just a few days I
had a whole new plan to do whatever I could to take Sasha away from the
empty life she'd known.  It might not have been the best plan, but I
knew it would be worth all the hard work.

One of the first things I did after talking to a few of my workers who
had friends in high and low places was to make a deal with the hotel
manager for a longer stay.  He seemed to realize I had a good reason to
hang around and tried to up my nightly rate, but when I hinted that
there might be a better way to reimburse him for his troubles he invited
me to his office for a long talk.

By the time I walked out of his protected domain we were both smiling,
he was going to see some major improvements to his hotel, and I was
going to have a free room and food for as long as I wanted.  All I
needed to do was arrange to have a few extra construction licenses find
their way into his office and a few workers to go along with them.  An
added benefit for me would be yet more big burly men eager to help me if
I needed something of an 'unofficial' nature.

Many of them already thought of me as a transplanted Russian who spoke
such a funny language and seemed eager to provide any help I might need
for various personal requirements, so without trying real hard I'd
developed a network of allies and created an extensive support network.
Having a few of my workers working and even living in the same hotel
would almost guarantee that I'd have a much easier stay.

By the beginning of the next week I'd been able to collect a number of
permits and even coaxed a few guys to change where they were working two
or three days a week.  To make the deal even better I was able to
arrange some lodging for part of my out-of-town crew, their temporary
residence the same area that was being updated.  As long as the guys
were diligent and kept their focus they'd have a free room for a while,
extra work to keep them busy, at least two big meals per day, and lots
of future employment for a number of months.

My biggest problem was trying to keep from getting caught each time I
extended the construction job completion date.  That problem was solved
for me, because a curious administrator from the Ministry of Licenses
asked far too many questions, and I had to get my primary contract
finished before the end of the month.  Sure, he gave me a lot more time
than he should have, because I think he understood that I was trying to
keep his Russian comrades gainfully employed rather than fill my
pockets.

It felt good to see so much progress on the job site and know that I
might be able to keep the contract for a couple more weeks, because I
was anxious to extend my stay in Russia so I could keep working on
Sasha's adoption papers, and more than one person was eager for me to
stay where I was.  In the meantime I could improve on my Russian, I
could help other people see that most Americans weren't the godless and
decadent sex-hungry beasts the government had tried to make the people
believe ... okay, so some of my countrymen weren't quite the godless
cretins I knew, anyway ... and I'd have a chance to relax long enough
to let those few people with a need to have their hands filled with
American cash so I could buy the necessary influence for Sasha's future.

Sasha and I had a wonderful Friday evening walking around town.  I think
she was surprised I wanted us to be seen together, because each time I'd
look down at her and smile while holding her small hand in mine I got
the distinct impression for quite a while that she was very unsure of
herself.  She might have been worried somebody might discover she was an
orphan and might take her away from me to some children's home, but the
longer we were together and the more often I'd give her a hug and smile
at her the more relaxed she appeared.  To complete the impression that
she could be my little girl I lifted her into my arms, bought her a cute
doll to call her very own, and gave her lots of kisses on a close cheek
and her smooth forehead as I walked around.

Rather than harsh looks and public scrutiny lots of people smiled at us
while we took in the sights and enjoyed snacks and drinks of all sorts.
We even ambled around the same market where I'd purchased her first set
of clothes, and I was tempted to buy the box of porn outfits from the
woman who'd assumed I had a little Russian girlfriend.  By the time we'd
walked around all the stalls and tables the same woman saw us, smiled at
Sasha and me, and waved me over.  The moment I was close enough she
tugged me closer so she could whisper that she still had the box of
special clothes that I'd seen before.  Without thinking about it too
much I handed her some Rubles and asked her to hold onto them for me
until I was ready to buy them.  She never offered a word of complaint
and went right back to selling whatever else she had to the next person
behind me.

Sasha and I spent time visiting one of the city parks early Saturday
morning and I got a chance to see how she'd react to things as simple as
swings, slides, and climbing bars.  I don't think the poor thing had
ever been allowed to play with such carefree abandon, because her smile
was so wide and her laughter so uninhibited that I was convinced she
couldn't have been happier.  Just after we ate lunch it was hot enough
to take advantage of something that she'd always wanted to try, and my
happy little playmate had a chance to romp in the nude with a bunch of
other children in a water feature where lots of lovely naked sprites
squealed and jumped and played with each other.  I'm not sure who had
more fun there, because I got to ogle and enjoy the sight of lots of
naked little girls as they splashed, ran around, laughed, and enjoyed
each others' company.

After she and all the other children were dried off and adequately
stared at by her future daddy and lots of other men in the immediate
area I dressed my little girl and nestled Sasha in my arms for a brief
trip to a street that had all manner of food vendors.  Rather than eat
from a plate I fed Sasha in my arms and helped her nibble on all sorts
of tasty food on a stick, some more goodies inside a couple of bread
rolls, and even got a thick pita rolled up around a hunk of thick and
spicy sausage with hot mustard.

My little angel seemed so happy in my grasp and even made it a point to
tender a few somewhat obvious kisses onto my lips and face as a show of
her pride and affection.  Instead of looking as if I was tumbling down
the road of homosexual perversion with a little boy I realized after
having stared at lots of other little naked girls at the water area of
the park that lots of parents kept their girls' hair incredibly short.

Maybe it was a means to confuse a would-be child molester if they didn't
think the lovely item in their sights was a boy rather than a girl when
they had their clothes on, and I could almost see a kind of queer logic
to hiding little girls in plain sight like that.  The fact that most of
the children scampering about in the water were naked little girls
pretty much defeated any protection they might have had with short hair.
Once Sasha was my own adopted daughter I might think differently about
her hair length, but until then I knew to keep her from standing out in
the crowd by having her hair cut if it got long enough.

Sunday was spent touring the many historic buildings and even the new
political center where I'd eventually take possession of my adopted
daughter's personal records.  I was a little nervous with so many
uniformed officers watching everything we did while we walked, whispered
comments about what we saw, and pointed at things that the other person
might have missed.  Since nobody approached us I figured the men were
just studying us as they were all the other people.

Riding on the city metrorail and buses with Sasha on my lap made her
look so happy, because she kept grinning, looked at all the other people
seated around us, and took great pride in telling one older woman with
two large bags of shopping that I was gonna be her new daddy.  Before I
knew it Sasha volunteered my services to help the babushka carry both
bags while Sasha held the old woman's hand and we walked to her small
apartment.

I got a real-time social education when the older woman, Valentina,
insisted Sasha and I keep her company after I carried her belongings
inside.  Before long and with Sasha sitting on my lap the woman brought
out a thick album with hundreds of photographs of her family.  It didn't
take long after that for us to be sipping on tea and enjoying some
petite confections that she liked to make.  While we visited Sasha was
doing her best to become a part of me by leaning against my chest,
staring up into my face when she wasn't speaking to Valentina or looking
at the many black and white photographs, and displaying an expression of
utter adoration.  Of all the little girls who I'd taken to bed and
treated with a measure of gentle respect Sasha was the most emotional
and expressive.  For her to openly say, "I love you, Daddy," right in
front of Valentina pretty much confirmed that we had a thing going.

By the time we were climbing into bed on Sunday evening Sasha's face was
glowing like a light bulb, her smile seemed to be a permanent fixture on
her cute face, and her lips had been converted from what I imagined had
been a continuous downward pout for years into forcing her plump cheeks
up which kept her eyes in a narrow squint.  But it was what she
whispered into my ear after I worked myself into bed beside her that
surprised me, because after all we'd done that weekend I thought she was
far too tired to be awake.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Baby?"

"Kiss me lots, Daddy."

What started as a timid and slow kiss with a little girl eventually
turned into me pulling her on top of me so we could consummate our
loving union.  Sasha might have looked like a little boy when I saw
her in the hotel lobby, but after no more than a minute into our much
more intimate sexual bond there was no doubt she was a fully realized
woman, even at her young age.

She whimpered and moaned for almost an hour before I took pity on her,
turned over, lay her on her back, splay her slender thighs, and then
nestled my face into her bald charms.  Her hands went around the back of
my head and her fingers were wither combing through my hair or were
trying to remove small portions of it while I afforded her lots of
intense sexual pleasure.  By the time her small hands released their
grasp of my locks I'd realized she'd fainted and I spent another hour
just kissing and licking her tender vulva.  I probably could have fucked
my little angel all night, but she was tired, I needed to get some rest
before work early on Monday, and we'd have plenty of time for more fun
after a good night's sleep.

Monday morning came almost as quickly as Sasha did the night before, and
after we were both clean and fed I needed to make sure the hotel staff
knew that my young guest was welcome to come and go as she pleased, and
I wouldn't have to worry about what she did during the day.  After all,
she'd been smart and creative enough to live on her own before I'd
arrived, so she'd be able to keep herself safe while I was at the job
site.

Rather than walk with me downstairs so she could watch all the goings-on
in the lobby Sasha chose to remain in our room and play with the doll
that I'd gotten her at a toy peddler's stand.  With some food left over
from breakfast and a few pastries from dinner the night before as a
snack I knew she'd be okay.

When I told the hotel receptionist, Ilyenka, that Sasha was going to be
in my room all day she seemed pleased that I'd taken an active interest
in the orphan, the young woman's smile and the way she looked at me a
kind of confirmation that she might have known what was going on.  But
Dimitri had a far different reaction to my announcement that my young
charge was going to be permitted to remain with me or alone in my room.
Rather than seem pleased that I was helping one of his young countrymen
out of a dark future he made me feel as if I was about to be visited by
someone in the local police cadre.  It wasn't so much which words he
used but the way he uttered them, the look in his eyes, and the manner
in which he chose to look down at me while he spoke, even though he was
shorter than I was.

"You shouldn't have anyone in your room during the day, Mister Preston,
or the hotel manager might charge you for two people.  If there's
trouble the local militia might need to be called."

His timing was off, because just as Dimitri dropped his little Russian
bombshell three of my workers were coming down the stairs from their
room and heard what he said.  The moment they saw my expression of fear
and disappointment all three of the burly men surrounded Dimitri and me,
leaned in, and the foreman, Anatoli, whispered to me in Russian.

"You okay, Boss?"

The moment Dimitri tried to turn and leave the other two of my crew
blocked his escape and shook their heads.  That's when Dimitri had a
whole new impression of who I was and who my new friends might be.

"Not really, Anatoli.  It appears my friend here, Dimitri, doesn't like
the idea that I'm going to adopt Sasha.  He must believe my new Russian
daughter-to-be doesn't deserve to have an American father, and he said
the local militia might be involved if the hotel manager didn't like her
living with me.  I'd be very unhappy if anything happened to my precious
little Sasha."

Anatoli looked down into Dimitri's eyes and hid none of his displeasure.

"Really, Boss?  Dimitri doesn't want you to make Sasha happy, huh?"

The two guys stationed around Dimitri crowded in closer, pressed their
larger bodies into his, he tried to step away from them, and the two
living Russian mountains towered over him just enough for the smaller
young man to get the hint he'd just fucked up in two languages.

Before Anatoli or I could say any more Dimitri must have decided to
alter his tone and mood a little.  The two larger men must have been too
intimidating to stare at, because Dimitri looked and spoke directly to
me rather than the two men nearly on top of him.

"It's okay, Mister Preston.  Sasha can remain with you."

I looked into Dimitri's eyes with a stern glare through narrow slits and
whispered only loud enough for he and my three large construction
workers to hear.

"Really, Dimitri?  You're going to *allow* Sasha to stay with me?"

Anatoli put his huge left arm around my body, cupped my left shoulder
with a firm grip of a hand that could have belonged to a gorilla, and
then leaned forward into Dimitri's face.

"If my boss is unhappy because something happens to his Sasha, Dimitri,
then you will be even *more* unhappy after I come to see you, Comrade."

Dimitri was actually shaking in his boots while staring into Anatoli's
gaze, the smaller man becoming aware that my influence extended far
beyond the room I was living in and the little girl I'd taken into my
custody.  What he said next pretty much confirmed I wouldn't need to
worry about Sasha or my personal belongings any longer.

"Mister Preston ... I'll be sure to make Sasha's stay with you very easy
and with no problems.  From now on I'll be sure nobody bothers her or
your personal property."

Anatoli reached with his big right hand to the bright red coat Dimitri
was wearing, rolled one of the large black buttons along the front seam
around a couple of times, and then whispered to my potential adversary.

"You remember how important Sasha is to my boss, Dimitri.  If any harm
comes to his Sasha you won't need to worry about your nice red coat
being cleaned of any blood for your next work assignment, Comrade."

Dimitri probably needed to go pee after that, because the moment my crew
stood back and allowed him to pass the bellhop took off straight for the
door that led to the bathrooms as if his pants were on fire ... or
needed to be emptied.

Once Dimitri was gone Anatoli and his guys smiled at me, stood back a
couple of feet, and then took on a demeanor that hinted at three teen
boys looking forward to using their father's car for the weekend.

"Hey, Boss.  Me and my boys wanted to thank you for arranging for our
meals to be delivered to our room and the nice bottle of vodka to wash
it down with."

"No problem, Anatoli.  I'm pleased you're enjoying your stay."

It really didn't cost me much, but the gesture had apparently begun to
cement a bond between me and my crew that would encourage my guys to be
a lot more loyal to me than their last employer or any native Russian
young men with less-than-polite things on their minds.

"It's great, Boss.  But ... you won't mind if we take an extra week to
finish the work in that room, will you?"

I could tell he liked the food and accommodations enough to slow the
project down a little bit, but as long as the work didn't drag on too
long I'd be sure to look the other way.

"Of course not, Anatoli.  You guys need a nice room to stay in until
your next one is ready to be worked on.  I'll make sure the hotel
manager keeps me informed of when your next assignment will be ready."

"Thanks, Boss."

A moment later Dimitri came out of the door he'd been hiding behind,
took another look at Anatoli and his crew, and made a wide berth around
all four of us.  For the bellhop to position himself behind the
reception counter close to Ilyenka might have been his best attempt to
see another morning, and the young registration clerk could tell her
slightly older male employee was feeling a bit nervous about something.

The moment she saw me smile and wink at her she turned toward Dimitri,
looked him up and down as if he'd soiled his underwear, and then spun in
place enough to whip her hair into his face.  Even Ilyenka had an
impression of the bellhop's attitude she must not have liked, and from
the opposite end of the counter whispered something to the hotel
manager.  Since I needed to check on which room Anatoli and his guys
would be staying in and fixing up after the current one was done my next
choice was to also visit with the hotel manager.

Anatoli and his guys might have wanted to leave before they saw me in
the lobby, but once I walked toward the registration counter they hung
around and waited to see what was going to happen.  It took no more than
a smile, a wave, and a few polite words of morning greeting to get the
manager's attention, and when I did I tried to improve upon any offer
we'd already agreed to.

"Gennadi ... have you had a chance to check on the progress in room 521?
My construction crew tells me things are progressing nicely, and they
should be finished in a week or two."

Anatoli might have been anxious to hear what I might say to the man
behind the counter, because I could see he and his crew standing close
to the front entry where they were headed to go get some needed
supplies, and all three of them did their best to hear every word I
said.  The moment he heard me tell Gennadi that my crew needed another
week or two to finish their work all three of them stared with blank
expressions on their faces as if the next words out of the man's mouth
might change their lives.

The man's reaction was better than I anticipated.

"That soon?  That's wonderful, Mister Preston.  Would you like for me to
keep another room available for them so they can start working on that
one as soon as 521 is finished?"

"That would be good, Gennadi.  In order for my crew to continue to be
productive they'll need to have access to the next room a day or two
before they finish cleaning 521.  By that time they'll have their
personal belongings and supplies moved over."

"That's not a problem, Mister Preston.  They can start moving their
things into 517 any time they wish.  Ilyenka ... give Mister Preston the
key to 517 so he can have his crew move their things in there as soon as
they wish."

"Yes, Sir."

The young receptionist walked to the end of the counter where Dimitri
was still standing and where the keys were kept in a small hinged metal
box, took one out that had a small plastic medallion with "517" printed
on it, made a face at Dimitri, turned around, walked back to where her
boss was standing, and smiled at both of us.

The moment Gennadi received the key he reached across the counter,
dangled the key in my direction as if to tempt me with a lure, and with
a broad smile on my face I accepted it.  A moment later I turned, extended
my left hand toward Anatoli with the key dangling as Gennadi had done,
and then nodded to my crew.  Anatoli took the key, smiled and waved to
both Gennadi and Ilyenka, and then started to make their exit.  Before
they could walk all the way to the front entry Gennadi added more.

"Mister Preston ... is your crew satisfied with the meals we provide?"

Rather than answer for him I looked at Anatoli, smiled, and waited for
him to say something.  My foreman walked toward me, stood as tall as he
could, which could have mimicked the Ural Mountains, smiled, and with an
expression that hinted at polite submissiveness spoke to the hotel
manager as if the man behind the counter would tell Anatoli's father
that my worker had just peed on a nice Persian carpet.

"Yes, Comrade Gennadi.  The food is wonderful and *almost* more than we
can eat."

The hint being dropped wasn't missed, and the reaction Anatoli got
wasn't what any of my crew or me were ready for.

"That doesn't sound good.  Dinner this evening and breakfast tomorrow
will include an extra plate of food so you won't be worried about your
bellies while working.  Will this be satisfactory, Anatoli ... Mister
Preston?"

Dimitri's expression hinted at either revulsion or horror, because his
lips were turned down as if he'd just been told his days as a bellhop
were numbered, and he'd be carrying yet more plates of food to room 517.
His eyes almost looked pitiful enough to fill with tears within moments,
but it was Anatoli's smile and nod that told me what I needed to know.
Rather than answer Gennadi directly it appeared Anatoli wanted me to take
control of the situation.

"It does, Gennadi.  Thank you for your generosity."

"Actually ... I need to thank you and your work crew for completing all
this work so quickly.  If the local work cadre had been assigned to
finish the job I may never see the end of it."

"That won't happen with Anatoli and his crew, Gennadi.  My guys are hard
working and very particular about the kind of work they do.  They're
proud men and would be unhappy if you weren't pleased with their job."

"They're doing a *FINE* job, Mister Preston.  I couldn't be happier."

With that I extended my right hand, shook Gennadi's, reached out to
Ilyenka's for the same gesture, and then turned toward Dimitri.  He had
an expression on his face that hinted at anger, and in order to keep him
in his place I walked toward his end of the counter, extended my hand as
I had with Gennadi and Ilyenka, and shook the bellhop's hand with a
smile on my face and the certain knowledge that the young man knew not
to fuck with me, my young female visitor, nor my work crew.

Work that day at the job site was harried, my crews never slowed down
until lunch, and as I had every day for weeks provided all of them with
a full hot meal.  By the time the food was gone it was time to get back
to work.  The rest of the day was productive, and I dreaded having to
tell my crews that our work would be coming to a close before the end
fairly soon.

But rather than telling them lots of bad news just before I sent them
off the construction grounds one of the local permit administrators
arrived on site and walked toward me with a collection of papers in a
thick manila folder.

I dreaded what the man was going to say, and more than half my crews
gathered around us to hear what was going to be shared.  The pudgy man
wearing a long black coat and hat was most likely very nervous about the
congregation of burly men encircling him, and he seemed to feel a lot
less confident when he drew close enough to speak to me.

"Preston Markevich?"

"Yes, Sir?  May I help you?"

"Actually ... I think I can help you."

Things were beginning to look up.

"Your work has been going so well and your permits and licenses filed
with such accuracy that I've been told you should expect an extension on
the contract.  The local manager of construction and the official for
worker affairs will be here tomorrow to discuss the specifics.  Please
have the construction site ready for their visit."

So ... with some good news came a little bad, because it was already
closing time for my crew, and the portly official chose to inform me
just before my guys left to go home that I needed to have my area
cleaned up and prepared to impress two of the least agreeable people I'd
met to date.  The fact that he'd done so at the last minute proved one
of the other men not in attendance was hoping to get rid of me.

I probably could have said something rather insulting to the man about
his timing before he turned and walked away, but like the fat prick he
was the man chose to turn around and leave the job site before I had a
chance to offer my opinions.  What seemed more enjoyable than hearing
I'd been doing a good job was for my general foreman Anatoli, the
electrical foreman Nikolai, the plumbing foreman Anton, and the heavy
equipment foreman Pyotr to come closer and offer something that I
couldn't have asked for.

"Boss ... we can clean the construction site up this evening if you
think it will help make a better impression on the manager of
construction and the official for worker affairs."

All I could do was smile, feel humbled by their dedication, and then
nod.

"That's up to you and your crews, Anatoli.  I can't keep you on the job
after quitting time, but I also can't tell you not to work.  The best
way to ensure an ongoing project is to keep our employer and his
inspector happy."

"Then ... "

Anatoli turned and looked around the gathering of workers, exchanged
glances with lots of them, received lots of nods and expressions of need
for continued employment, and then looked me right in the eyes as he
shared what he'd come up with.

"We won't count any time we take this evening on our pay slips.  Having
more work for a longer period is more important than a few more minutes
on our way home.  Besides ... we'll get far more Rubles if the contract
is extended than any from just a few hours of work after closing time."

And with that he waved his big right hand and ushered everyone away to
begin their activities.  I was genuinely proud of my crew and their
foremen, and the first thing I did after I was left standing by myself
at the confluence of four parking driveways was to make my way toward
the nearest collection of food vendors.  My guys were so busy with their
activities they didn't notice me leave nor return.  It was only a short
train of small trucks and even a number of hand-drawn carts being
positioned where we'd been told a couple of finicky officials were going
to arrive the next day before I whistled loud enough to get my workers'
attention.

An hour later everyone was fed, the food vendors were paid, and my crew
went back to work.  By the time the last team walked back to where I'd
been standing and directing the activities all evening we were tired,
sore, but very anxious.  We'd only know how good a job we'd done after
two of our least favorite people were walking away from the site.

I was nervous all night, and Sasha could tell I wasn't quite as focused
on her naked body in bed until she pulled herself tight to my chest and
whimpered into my neck.

"Have I displeased you, Daddy?"

My arms drew her into a snug embrace, I heard her let out a little moan
of contentment, and after I kissed her head whispered into her short
hair.

"No, Baby.  There are gonna be some important people coming to the
construction site tomorrow, and I hope we've done everything we can to
be ready for them."

"I was scared you wanted another little girl ... or boy, Daddy.  You're
not angry with me 'cause I'm not a big girl, are you?"

"A big girl, Sasha?"

"Uh huh ... with real titties and everything."

She was tugged up the bed, our noses were brought together, I kissed her
lips once, and then smiled at her as I whispered into her mouth.

"You don't have to have big titties for me to want to look at and touch
you, Kitten.  Besides ... I like little titties a lot more than big old
balloons anyway."

"Tee-hee.  Really, Daddy?  Aren't you gonna want another little girl
who's prettier than me and has nice titties already?"

"I'll never need another little girl for as long as I live, Angel.  From
now on you're going to be all I need ... and for the record I like your
little titties and I think you're the most beautiful little girl in the
whole world."

Her wide-eyed stare into my gaze proved I'd gotten her attention and
said something that she'd probably never imagined a man could say.

"Really, Daddy?  You think I'm ... beautiful?"

"Yes I do, Kitten.  I might look at other little girls just 'cause
that's what makes me smile, but I'll only let you do things to me to
make me feel good, and only you and I will do our special things at
night so we can both be super happy.  From now on you have nothing to
worry about, Kitten."

"And ... and I can be your little girl for real, Daddy?"

"Uh huh.  You're gonna be my little girl for real."

"And you'll take me to America so I won't be alone and hungry no more?"

"Uh huh.  As soon as my work in your country is all done I'm gonna do
everything I can to take you to your *new* home in America."

Sasha threw her short arms around my neck and whimpered as if she was
trying to keep from crying.  All it took were a few well-chosen words
from me before she was smiling and had a very different idea of her
place in my life.

"You'll never have to worry about being alone or hungry ever again,
Kitten.  Your Daddy is gonna be here for you and you'll have a very
comfortable life from now on."

After she tried to hug the air from my lungs Sasha wiggled her way a
little further up my body, pressed her mouth to my left ear, and then
breathed her desires right into my brain.

"Can I make you feel good, Daddy ... please?"

With a broad smile on my face I whispered back.

"Sure, Baby.  I'd like that."

For some reason Sasha seemed intent to prove her worth to me, because
after she threw our covers back she shifted down my body, pulled my
shorts down, spun in place, splayed her feet over my ribs, nestled her
cute cunny over my hips, wiggled backward until her naked fanny was on
my chest, bent forward, and with both her small hands stroking me up and
down her lips encircled my glans.  Rather than want to stir me to orgasm
she might have wanted to just make me feel good as she initially asked,
because her movements were slow, determined, and for the next hour her
lips and tongue bathed my penis is the silken warmth of her loving oral
ministrations.

I could have relaxed and succumbed to the sensation of a little girl
giving me a truly beautiful blow-job, but I knew my future adopted
daughter wanted to please rather than stir me to a passionate climax, so
I clenched my abdominal muscles when I felt that delicious tingle stir
my insides into a raging boil and held on for as long as I could.  It
was worth the wait, because after the greatest amount of electric buzz
passed Sasha continued an almost lethargic pace and sent feelings
throughout my body that I'd never imagined could last for so long.

Of all the things that I could have asked from one of my young female
'entertainers' over the last few years it was being fellated for that
long because it was a truly memorable experience.

I was a nervous wreck the next morning, not because I'd spent so much
time with a naked little girl in my bed, but because two very finnicky
and temperamental officials were going to invade the job site.

Sasha and I ate breakfast, took a shower together, and even helped each
other get dressed.  The only thing that seemed out of the ordinary was
my inattentiveness to how eager my young playmate was that morning.  It
was obvious by her constant stares that she wanted me to share in her
morning desire to have some fun or just have sex, but I was too focused
on what was going to happen that day.

I never needed to be the least bit apprehensive, because within five
minutes of the officials' arrival I was handed the necessary paperwork
to extend the job for another three months and the men left.  I probably
looked like a dolt just standing there holding a bunch of new permits
and completed licenses for ten minutes, but when I was congratulated by
all of my guys instead of being beaten into a pulp I knew I'd had a
positive influence on lots of people who needed the work.  The fact that
they'd be employed far longer than had originally been promised meant
they could put a lot more in their pockets, and any notion of my having
invaded their domain to take control was a thing of the past.

Work proceeded for the rest of the day as it had for a long time, except
for the frequent smiles and many waves of polite greeting I got from all
the men in my employ.  It might have appeared strange to anyone who had
knowledge of typical Russian work activities, but to my guys and the
many people who walked or drove by the place it must have looked like a
bee hive of activity.  I was proud beyond any expectation at how well my
workers completed their tasks, and I had to gently encourage only one
small electrical crew to not impede the progress of the work gang behind
them.  Anatoli made sure to keep tabs on that crew for me from then on.

Rather than seem like years the next two months went by in a flash.  The
job was nearly complete, and all of my workers had found work on other
construction sites because of the impression they made on the right
group of officials.  So much was falling into place, except for the most
important task related to a young Russian orphan who looked like a boy.

I dreaded walking into the new political center to move things along,
but it appeared that whomever I'd paid wasn't going to finish quite as
quickly as I'd been promised or hoped.  It took me a few hours of going
from one official's office to another until a young woman with a lot
more bravery and knowledge recognized what I was up to stopped me.

"You are Preston ... Preston Markevich?"

"Yes, Ma-am.  What may I do for you ... or better still, what could you
do for me?"

She looked around us for a few seconds, tugged me closer to a tall tile
covered column as if to keep anyone from noticing our conversation, and
then she whispered in a soft tone as if someone of great importance
might take exception to her sharing something with me.

"I know what you are doing."

A cold chill went up and down my back, and I could feel my stomach twist
into a tight knot.  Either she was going to report me to the local visa
control official and get me deported for having spent time in bed with a
child, or I was looking at time in a Siberian gulag for bribing Russian
officials.

All I could do was look into her eyes with an expression of horror, but
I shouldn't have been so nervous.

"Pyotr Yvenkowski is my cousin ... your heavy equipment foreman and
someone who thinks very highly of you because of the way you've been
helping him and all of his Comrades.  He told me all about you and what
you are trying to do for that poor orphan girl, Sasha."

Rather than feel as if I might lose my lunch I felt a wave of relief
wash through me like a tsunami.  Before I could say anything nice about
one of my workers who could wield a front end loader with the delicacy
of a brain surgeon she tugged on my coat a little bit, drew me in close
enough so nobody could hear what she was whispering, and then shared
more information with me than I could have gotten after spending more
than a hundred hours doing my own research.

"You need to go speak to Konstantin Grigori Lutnikov in the Children
Affairs Office.  When you do be sure to bring American dollars, because
he will only do something for you if he can be sure his payment won't be
tracked by anyone.  Having American money will look normal for him,
since he works with many Western agencies."

Rather than focus too much on why she was offering such precious and
potentially dangerous information I chose instead to ask about what I'd
be doing and if anyone would notice.

"You don't think anyone will say anything about a Westerner trying to
adopt a Russian orphan?"

"It happens often, but most of them must go through another foreign
affairs office and then a family research director before they will ever
get to talk to Mr. Lutnikov.  Since you are here, have been working in
Russia for many weeks, and have many friends, it won't arouse a lot of
suspicion."

It felt good to hear that I'd made a few allies.

"Nobody will say anything?"

"Well ... if you come back tomorrow dressed like a Westerner, then he
will expect you to pay more.  If you look like a Russian citizen and
speak softly enough so he doesn't recognize your accent, then he will
not ask too many questions.  Money will do all the talking for you."

Before I could thank her and offer a little reward for such precious
information she spun in place and disappeared as if being seen with me
could get her fired or thrown into jail.

Since it was too late in the day to meet with the man I decided to
chance coming back in the morning.  Besides, I looked like a tourist
with a couple pockets stuffed with enough money to raise more than a few
eyebrows trying to fool his way into favor with a fancy suit.  When I
came back I'd be wearing more appropriate clothing.

When I arrived at 10:30 the next morning I was wearing a borrowed pair
of dirty coveralls, a work shirt with white paint everywhere and dried
sheetrock putty on the sleeves, and a pair of dirty and well-worn work
boots.  My hair was still uncombed, my face unshaven, and I even thought
about taking a few hits off a vodka bottle before I walked into his
office so my breath might leave anyone with the impression that I was
just as likely to show up at work as drunk as a few of my workers.  If
my clothing wasn't good enough to look inconspicuous I was ready to have
to fight with a polar bear to get my Sasha out of the country.  The
thick wads of hundred dollar bills stuffed in various buttoned-down
pockets wouldn't hurt when the time came, but my good fortune was again
something that I couldn't have planned for.

After fifteen minutes of my time and maybe ten forms with my signature
on various places on each page I walked out of the Children Affairs
Office accomplishing something that cost me no more than a thousand
dollars.  Usually it cost twenty to thirty times that much for
Westerners to adopt a Russian orphan, or so I'd heard.  Carrying a set
of official documents to two other offices I received permission to take
possession of Sasha's official birth certificate, her limited medical
records from the last orphanage she'd been in, a State identity card,
and another form that proved I was now officially her father.

From there I almost ran to the American Consulate with my head on a
swivel.  It must have looked to everyone around me that I was trying to
steal Russian military secrets the way I was clutching all of those
special papers in my hands.  By the time I got to the right person after
another two hours of political office-hockey all I had to do was show
them Sasha's birth certificate, her Russian adoption papers, and then
sign three more forms before I was handed a newly printed declaration
that I helped affix a small photograph to.

Sasha bawled for almost an hour when I showed her the formal adoption
papers, her birth certificate, which she'd never seen, and then
something that she might never have imagined in her life, a crisp and
brand new U.S. naturalization certificate, including a small black and
white photo that I'd taken of her without her awareness.  What seemed to
fascinate me more than anything else was her last name, something she'd
never known, and I'd only learned after having received her birth
certificate.

As strange as it seemed and with hundreds of little girls in the world
for me to tumble into bed with the one who'd stolen my heart was a
little Russian orphan named Sasha Svetlana Markevich.  I'd never really
known much about my family's past, but it was becoming apparent that my
background and Sasha's were a lot more closely linked than we could have
imagined.

That's probably why it had been so easy for me to adopt her and why the
Children Affairs official didn't ask for more money, because whomever
had done the investigations while I was being shuffled from one office
to the next probably misunderstood what the papers were doing on their
desk, approved them, and just handed them to me before anyone noticed
that I was an American.  I was glad Pyotr's cousin had spotted me and
took the time, and the risk, to share the information about the official
who helped Sasha find a new life with me.  Wearing typical construction
work clothes also must have left the people in the various Russian
offices with the impression that I was nobody special and could be
trusted with a young orphan's life and future.  At least they didn't
suspect me of being a Westerner.  If they had I probably would have been
hauled away to some frozen prison camp until there was nothing left to
feed the wolves.

Never again would Sasha be considered an orphan, the refuse of two lives
brought together in a moment of passion and discarded as quickly as a
used condom without any second thought.  From that day on she was to be
known as my daughter, even if she didn't need to take a new last name.
With all the official documents to prove it she'd be my Kitten, I'd be
her Daddy, and we'd share a love that transcended all the lurid sex I
could have wanted from dozens and dozens of other little girls.  I also
ushered a whispered promise into her ear that night while we were lying
in bed naked together that her hair would be allowed to grow as long as
it could so everyone, especially me, would know that my Sasha was a
darling little girl.

Once my most recent project was finished I cashed out what I'd been
saving up, took my money back with us to The States, and settled down in
a small town about an hour's drive away from Chicago.  Sasha looked so
precious wearing that green and silver miniskirt, tube top, and high
heel shoes I purchased from that old woman selling used clothes.  Taking
lots of photographs of her in our bedroom made me feel so dirty, but I
loved to see my little Russian orphan pose erotically and pretend to be
the sexy girls on my computer screen, their panties missing, and their
pussies eager to be tickled, kissed, and then fucked until we were too
exhausted and fell asleep.

On a quiet Saturday evening after we'd become accustomed to our new life
in America and while Sasha and I were lying in bed naked she whispered
something that sent chills up and down my back.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Kitten?"

"Do you remember Dimitri?"

"The bellhop?  Yes I do.  Why?"

"He was the one who ... who told another Western man that he could push
his thing in my ... in my bum and took money for it."

A wave of rage poured through me in an instant, and had I known what
Dimitri had done when we were still living in the hotel where I'd found
my little girl I might have coaxed Anatoli and his co-workers to bury
Dimitri in a support column or a thick slab of concrete.  I think Sasha
knew how I'd react, because she then revealed a much more mature manner
about her than I could have imagined.

"I didn't wanna tell you before, because if you knew you might hurt
Dimitri and go to prison, and I couldn't lose you, Daddy."

Smart girl!

We remained quiet for a little while and just held onto each other.  It
hurt me to know that other young Russian orphans might fall prey to what
Dimitri had done to Sasha, and my mind was flying with foul notions of
revenge and a perverse form of justice.  I might talk Sasha into going
back so we could put an end to Dimitri's bad habits, and we might
consider bringing another of Sasha's countrymen ... or children back to
America with us.  I certainly had a strong network of friends and
allies, so it was possible.

Rather than take a chance at being linked to a Russian citizen's murder
I decided for something a lot more enjoyable and much less dangerous.
That next Sunday night I called the hotel manager, Gennadi, and told him
what I'd just learned about Dimitri.  The manager's reaction was genuine
enough to convince me that he'd be needing a new bellhop before the day
was out, and after a few more words were exchanged regarding how well
Anatoli and his crew were doing on a new contract for remodeling part of
the hotel I felt a measure of satisfaction and pride.  If my former work
crew had been available I might have wanted to talk to them, but they
were off gathering supplies for some much needed work.

After Sasha fell asleep against my left side and while I was staring at
the ceiling I kept wondering what would happen to Dimitri.  Was justice
going to be served, or would the local officials turn a blind eye?  I
couldn't think about it for very long, because I had a little girl to
think about and help grow up a normal, healthy, and happy Kitten.

Sasha liked being an American girl, especially when her Daddy was making
her feel so good that she'd utter nasty words in Russian while I was
teaching her the Western alphabet with my tongue on her clitoris.  She
also loved to tease me about wanting a little Russian boy to take to bed
and let him suck my cock, because it was obvious before I found out who
I'd gotten my hands on and dick into that I couldn't tell the difference
between a little boy and a young girl with a short haircut.  Each time
we'd see a five or six year old little boy playing on the swings or
romping with his friends Sasha would tease me and ask me with a wicked
grin on her face if I wanted her to go ask him if he wanted to give me a
blow job.  That was my cue to tickle her until she was squealing loud
enough to be everyone's focus.

There were a few times when I wondered if there really was a deep-seated
hunger within me to accept the dark secret that I'd kept hidden all my
life.  All it took was for Sasha to lift the bottom hem of her very
short miniskirt after we were behind our closed bedroom door so I could
stare at her bald vulva for me to understand that I much preferred
little girls to little boys ... or at least *one* little girl who'd
always remember the day I walked into that hotel lobby in Russia.

--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
--


  
GoodSamaritan