New Story:  Desperate Little Girl, Chapter 1
Mf, ped, rape, cons, noncons, exhib

I first noticed Angela about a month ago, I guess.  I had probably passed her 
on the street a dozen times before my mind was not so full of other things that 
it connected that she was there.   Quickly let me tell you a bit about myself.  
I'm 45, tall and thin.  I got out of prison three years ago after serving eleven 
years of a fifteen year sentence for molesting a 10 year old girl.  Ever since 
then I've been reporting to my probation officer every month and working at 
keeping my nose clean.  I am fascinated by little girls and masturbate three or 
four times a day thinking about them.  Somehow in my misery and loneliness I 
missed spotting such a wonderful target child.  Now she was in my sights.  I 
faced an instant dilemma... do I risk going back to prison - for life this time - 
or do I taste the forbidden fruits again?

The day I first became aware of her I was headed to my piss ant job as usual.  
After serving a quarter of my life behind bars I still had child support payments 
to make, parole payments to make, and somehow I had to scratch out enough to live 
on.  At least I wasn't wearing a monitor.  When you have a record like mine you're 
damned lucky not to be living in a mission or under a freaking bridge.  With my 
college degree in biology, a reasonable head on my shoulders, and tremendous drive 
to succeed, I had landed a job as a research lab tech.  It wasn't much of a job, 
routine as hell, but it did afford me access to a well-supplied lab and enough money 
to keep going.  With my record my chance of advancement was zero so in prison or in 
the free world, the future looked bleak.  Angela might brighten up the here and now.
If I had known everything about Angela that I know now, I'd never have gotten involved.

The next morning I saw her again.  She was wearing the same dirty jeans and oversized 
flannel check shirt she had on the day before.  Her feet were bare and dirty, her 
toenails painted blue, and her light brown hair was tied back in a ponytail.  The shirt 
was unbuttoned to about mid chest exposing her only slightly developed chest.  I judged 
her to be about 11 or 12 years old.  The jeans were ripped at the knees.  I guessed that 
was done on purpose rather than by accident.  Her face was reasonably clean, evincing an 
effort on her part to care for herself.  She was thin, probably more from lack on 
nourishment that from metabolism.  

"Hi, little girl," was the brilliant line I came up with.  She looked up at me, squinting 
in the morning sunlight.  She looked me up and down before she spoke.

"Why you talking to me?"  She asked.   

"I saw you here yesterday.  I thought you might need some help."

"I don't need no help, mister." Her defiance only slightly surprised me.  No doubt other 
men had hit on her for exactly the same reason I was.  I just had to be better at my craft 
than they were.  She turned slightly and I caught sight of her left nipple as the shirt 
bulged out. My cock reacted as expected.

"No worries.  Just thought you might want to go to McDonalds for a hamburger sometime.  
Maybe get some ice cream."  

"McDonalds?  You'd take me to McDonalds?" I could tell I'd hit a hot button.  My cock 
jumped again.

"Sure, if you want."  I saw her smile for the first time.  It wasn't much of a smile, more 
like a big grin, but it was an opening.  I knew I had a shot at this little street urchin.  
Fantasies began to swirl in my head and I wanted to jack off looking at her.  "Tell you what... 
I get off work at 4.  I'll come by and if you're here we can go then."  The deal was made 
and reluctantly I headed off to my meaningless job.  You can guess where my head was all 
day.  I couldn't stop thinking about her left nipple on her little slightly developed chest. 
 
My boss probably wondered why I went to the bathroom so many times during the day but I had 
five great orgasms as I masturbated waiting for the clock to finally reach four.  There was 
no doubt in my mind that I was going to have this child.

Angela was waiting for me, sitting next to the stoop where I'd seen her this morning.  She 
still had on the same jeans.  Her flannel shirt was unbuttoned and tied just below her chest 
and she wore flip flops on her now reasonably clean feet.  She had obviously brushed her hair 
and more carefully tied it up in her ever present ponytail.  It was if she had got ready for 
a date with me.  I realized that a trip to McDonalds meant something to her.

We got a few stares at McD's but I ignored them.  One guy saw through me immediately.  I 
imagined he wished he had found her first.  Angela downed not one but two Happy Meals and sat 
the little toys on the table between us, fiddling with them childishly.  Seeing her act like 
a child filled me with more lust than I had felt earlier.  She was a child.  And I was going 
to do her.

At the slurping sound of her empty cup, Angela looked at me, wondering what was going to come 
next.  This was not her first time to be approached by an older man.  Was he going to say 
goodbye and wander off or try to get her to have sex with him?  Sex was not appealing to her 
yet.  At 11 years old she lacked the hormones that would overtake her in a year or two, but 
she'd suffered through and had to accept that sex was part of her life.  Sex was why she was 
on the street; sex was what had chased her from the home she had known most of her young life.  
Sex was the driving force behind Angela's poison.  It would take me almost a year to 
understand that.

"Can I go now, mister?"  I was stopped by her question.  She wanted to leave.  I'd fulfilled 
my offer to her.  Now she wanted to leave. 

"Of course you can go.  But first, can you tell me your name? I'd really like to get to know you."

"Why?"

"Why what?  Why do I want to know your name?"

"No.  Why do you want to know me?  I'm just a kid.  You're an old man."  I had to think quickly.  
I had to outsmart a street smart girl.  I slumped a bit in my chair.  I let out a bit of a sigh.  
I looked at my hands and acted as if I was about to share a secret.  I looked up into her brown 
eyes.

"OK, I'll tell you why, little girl." I paused more for effect.  I already had my plan in mind.  
"I was a street kid for a year when I was 10.  I don't even know how I lived through the year."  
Could I actually make a tear run down my cheek?  "Then, just before I turned eleven, someone took 
me in.  They were nice to me.  They let me sleep in their bed, they bought clothes for me.  They 
let me go to school.  They were my family."  Yep, there goes that tear I was trying so hard to 
force.  Great effect!  "Ever since then, since I grew up, I've been hoping to be able to do the 
same for someone."  Another pause as I dropped my glance back to my hands.  "I thought for a 
minute that that person might be you."

Nothing more was said for what seemed like awhile.  When I finally looked up at Angela she was 
crying.  Not sobbing or anything like that, but tears were streaming down her face making little 
dirty pathways to her chin.  I patted her little face with my napkin.  She was swallowing hard, 
trying to regain control.  She stopped fiddling with the toys and looked in my eyes.

"You mean that?" she asked quietly, not wanting to believe me for a minute.  "You mean you'd take 
me in and be my family?"  I slightly nodded, wanting her to believe that I was almost reluctant to 
do so.  She instantly brightened up and her entire mood changed.  "My name is Angela.  I'm almost 
12 and I sleep in a box under the stoop you saw me sitting on.   The people in the house let me 
eat their left over stuff sometimes.  They have a boy who always tries to feel me up and I hate him..."
 
Angela prattled on for ten minutes before taking a breath.  I learned a great deal about her, about 
her losing her virginity to her step father when she was nine, about her running away sometime in 
the past.  She was very vague about how long ago it had been, apparently having lost track of time.  
I learned that she can read and write and loves to dance.  I shoved that piece of data away for future 
reference. I also learned that she didn't have on any underwear and hadn't had a bath or shower in a 
long time.  I didn't learn some of the things I wish I had.

McD's was getting too full for my comfort and I suggested we leave.  Angela was on her feet and moving 
with me with ease.  She continued her nonstop talking as we walked the three blocks to my flat, a 
third floor walkup with a view of a brick wall on one side and the street in front.   I'd been living 
there over a year and had never seen or heard any of my neighbors.  The only way I knew there was 
anyone else in the building was seeing lights on in their windows on nights when I came home late from 
work.  It was a perfect set up for having a child there.

We paused in front of the apartment building.  "Here's where I live.  Are you coming up?" This was the 
moment for Angela to decide.  She paused for a second, then took my hand and looked up at me from her 
4'8" frame.

"You gotta tell me something first."

"What's that?"

"You gonna try to fuck me?"  I'd better think fast.  Of course I was going to fuck her but how do I get 
her in the house and what do I do to get her fucked?

"Let me ask you a question first," I countered.  "How do you want me to treat you?  Like a child or 
like an adult?" I caught her.  No child wants to be treated like a child.  I had her and she knew it.  
Now was her chance to stay or to run.

"Like an adult."

"Then that's how I will treat you, Angela.  And sometimes adults fuck."

"You gonna be nice to me or you gonna hurt me?"  Of course I wanted to hurt her.  I wanted to hear her 
scream in pain.  I wanted to rip her tight little asshole open.  I wanted to shove my hard 8 inch cock 
down her tight little throat and see her eyes bulge for lack of air.

"Why would I hurt you, Angela?"  I paused for a second then asked, "Another question... do you want to be 
my friend or my girlfriend?"  She gripped my hand tighter and smiled.

"I'll be your girlfriend."

"You want to be my girlfriend or be my wife?"  She struggled with this one.  No one had ever asked her 
to be his wife before.  The 11 year old child almost swooned at the thought.  She felt her first surge 
of sexual hormones and was overwhelmed.

"Mister, if you want me to be your wife, then I'll be your wife.  Just don't be mean to me, OK?"  We 
pushed open the door and climbed the steps to the third floor.






 



    
