'PEDO ISLAND' formerly 'Idyllic Island'.

   This story is the 2nd of two pilot episodes for the Pedo Island Diary
series. 5,000 words long, a half-hour read.

The forerunner is here:
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/englishperv/Pedo%20Island%20The%20Beginning.txt

The reader is expected to separate fact from harmless fantasy, and no children were harmed in the making of this and any resemblance to real persons living or dead is coincidental.

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PROLOGUE

It was mid-morning on Monday, two days after 9-year-old Amy's wedding to her Dad's friend, 43-year-old Mark. The second night of `husband and wife stuff', as Mark called it, had not included anything that hurt, unlike the wedding night. Just a lot of touching, and kissing and licking of her mouth, face, body and the rude places. Except it was not `rude', Mark said, and not `dirty' - not even the kissing and licking of her bum. None of it hurt, though - just kind of embarrassing, but sometimes nice and funny too - and Mark was very nice to her.

"Good, I'm glad," said Mr Abramov, the most important man on the Island, `The Founder'. They were in the day-room of his villa. "You will get used to the more difficult bits, Amy. It's part of becoming a good citizean. Continue."

Amy, kneeling over the coffee table, put her mouth back round the rubber model of the man-thing - the `cock'. It was big, sticking up, and long - just like Mark's had been - and a realistic flesh-colour. She had never done this with Mark's, though. She had to open very wide, rather as if it was a big banana.

"Very good, Amy. Remember, avoid teeth. Move up and down in a slow rythmn. Yes, keep the nice grip with your hand. Now suck faster... no! - gradually increase the pace... that is good."

Amy looked up, sucking away, glad to please Mr Abramov.

"Okay, I think you've made Mr Cock very happy now," he said. "He's going to give off his yoghurt now." There was a button on the cubic base of the model. "Keep going... ready, sweetie?"

"Um-um," said Amy while she sucked. Mr Abramov pressed, and suddenly Amy felt her mouth becoming awash with what was actual vanilla-flavoured yoghurt. She tried to swallow as instructed, but found herself coughing after a couple of gulps, surprised by how fast it had spurted out in her throat.

"Oh, well done, young lady." Amy withdrew, spluttering the white yoghurt over her chin, glad that this didn't mean she'd done badly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

PEDO ISLAND 2

"How was your lesson?" asked Mark. It was lunchtime and Amy had been driven back to him the 15 miles to the honeymoon cottage. It had seemed sensual and secluded on Saturday evening, but today in daylight it was simply beautiful with the waterfall at the back and the wild flowers of the surrounding gorge. Outside was a chorus of birdlife, as if in celebration and approval at his marriage to a child.

"It was good. I did well," said Amy, taking a bite of her cheese sandwich. It was always cute watching a little girl eat.

"Oh, what did you do exactly?" Mark assumed Abramov was claiming his right, as Founder, to Amy's mouth. If so, she looked as though she'd taken it remarkably in her stride.

"It's confidential," she said, rather tersely. This was not in character for the normally sweet and polite Amy. 

"Oh. Mr Abramov said that?"

"Yes."

"Ah, I see. So, you have to go for lesson two on Wednesday, I believe. And that's the last one?"

"Yes, and yes."

"Ah, well, I like secrets. They are fun," said Mark, although not really enjoying this one. Something was going on here, beyond the legal agreement that Abramov would fuck her mouth before Mark was allowed to.

It didn't quite add up. He'd been a little nervous on Sunday morning before Amy was returned to him after the medical inspection, but hell - he'd passed, they assured him, his wedding night treatment of her was approved as `complete and sensible'. As Latifa, the Polynesian woman cook, brought in his pot of tea, Mark decided to peruse the doctor's report again:

Please ensure Amy applies the cream prescribed, twice daily for 5 days.

Amy should not be vaginally penetrated with penis again for 10 days, but digital penetration may begin after 5 days.

Mark looked at her across the table. He didn't yet know what colour her knickers were today, but she had on one of those typical blue-flowery summer dresses that little girls wear the world over. She had a blue-spotted Alice-band on instead of her wedding red, but her hair was the same as always: golden, somewhat thin, tidy on her scalp but spilling loosely over her ears and shoulders, a nice mid-back length.

Grinding on her pubic area may be be done after 5 days, but be vigilant to soreness or pain caused. 

Okay, good.

Cunnilingus may be given at any time...

Excellent.

...but beware she will still be sore on contact for several days.

Okay.

Anal penetration - no evidence on examination.

Yeah, that's because I didn't do any.

Proceed with great care if this is to be attempted...

It is, sometime.

...lubrication essential. Fingering prior recommended.

Not yet, not yet. Don't want to be too gruesome with her yet.

Anal licking - is safe for Amy (as recipient), but ensure she is thoroughly cleaned - remember, even a pretty little girl has nasty germs down there!

Um yeah, thanks for that, Doc. Also, Mark was well aware that the Island forbade forcing a girl - or female of any age for that matter - to give anal licking. Just one thing that was considered a step too far, and hell, Mark agreed anyway. Funny, really - he was horny as hell over the idea of licking a pretty fem's nether region, but hated to think of it being done to him by one.

Now Aisah, the Polynesian cook's daughter, came through with the cakes and biscuits. A sexy 21-year-old piece, making Mark contemplate on the benefits of good hard sex with a more `able' female, rather than the delicate and specialized fare that Amy provided. For now, he'd take Amy all day long, thank you very much.

So... the week ahead, mused Mark. There was a set structure for `honeymoon week' with a preteen. Apart from the required appointments with The Founder, the young wife was to stay with husband until the next Saturday, whereupon she was to spend the weekend with whatever parents or family she has on the Island. To return to being a `normal little girl', as it were. Also, one day in honeymoon week it is `recommended' she visit said family for the afternoon if she wants. Mark hoped she would be happy enough with him not to be pining for her Dad too much.

Tonight, then... he'd make it playful - lots of tickling, caressing, kissing and licking - her nude body, all over, every inch of her flesh. Erotic, yet something a child can be amused by. Intersperse this prudently with the more serious things like the French-kissing, or having her handle his erection. Finally he would have his cum, getting her bent over in some fashion and grinding his shaft along the crack of her exquisite 9-year-old bum. Here he could express the `oomph and passion' that the guy at the wedding was talking about, yet not hurt her. Amuse her even - make an energetic game laugh out of it... call it `horsey' or something.

Meanwhile, today... take her to the beach, engage with her as a child but with nice mundane `husband and wifey things' thrown in too, such as holding hands or stopping to kiss now and then.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was noon on Tuesday and they were sat on a grassy outcrop overlooking the beach and ocean, with Mark taking a healthy interest in his wife's hobby. Amy had her sketch pad and coloured pencils, and was drawing some of the seabirds. They were pretty good, too - probably better than anything Mark reckoned he could do! - and he smiled over her shoulder at them, laying his hand on her back through her summer dress. The blue waters broke calmly over the sands some 30 feet below, and the sound was nourishment to the soul. Almost as nourishing, in fact, as getting erotic with Amy's 9-year-old body.

"That's beautiful, Amy," he said.

"It's hard to get their head's right." Mark was pleased to get an instant reply, because so far today she'd been rather quiet and broody, which was a shame as last night he thought she'd responded marvellously well to the cunnilingus and the `horsey'.

"Well, that's what practise is for, isn't it?" He smiled at her, hoping she might realise the analogy with sex. He gave her back a gentle rub, which she acknowedged with a slight suspicious flicker of her eyes. "You've got plenty of time to get expert at it."

"Yes."

Mark, sensitive to her inexperienced emotions, removed his hand from her back. It was all going to have to be nurturing and go-slow, he reflected. Just as stated in the marriage vows, really. Anyway, probably plenty of conventional world marriages were like that, especially arranged ones. Plenty of those young and chaste Muslim women, having some bearded devout foistered upon them, probably struggled with the whole gasping and penetrative erotic deal. This, too, was an `arranged' marriage: no difference, with perhaps the exception that he genuinally loved Amy.

"I'm sorry if you were sore down there," he said.

"Uh?"

"Last night." He felt awkward now - old world guilt, that - having to draw her attention to it. "When I was, um, licking you in your cunt." He had taught her the word, although she'd vaguely heard it before.

"Oh, that. No, it's alright. It wasn't very sore."

Mark felt his heart warm a little. "Good. Well, anyway, now... I think I'll go down onto the beach," he declared. "Do you want to come? - stay here if you want."

"I'd like to finish my birdies, if that's alright."

"Yes, yes - you do that, sweetie. I'll build a sand-palace down there, maybe, like yesterday. The tide is coming in. Then we can watch it get swamped."

"Yes." She smiled, as she drew. And Mark was pleased to leave it at that for a bit.

Give her space - that's what any relationship is all about.

He gave Amy her space to be a child. He built an elaborate turreted palace structure in the sand, about 2 metres square, complete with a double moat. Half an hour later, after the odd wave to her which she sweetly returned, he went back up to her.

"Won't be long now before the tide gets to it," he said. "Ahh, you've finished - they look beautiful, sweetheart."

"Thank you. They're my best effort so far, I think."

"I think all your efforts are good."

"Will I be able to see my Dad tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course, you will. Right after you've had your lesson with Mr Abramov. Oh, sweetie, let me give you a hug."

He put an arm around her narrow little body, resisting the urge to put his hand up her dress with the other one, and together they watched the way the sea filled the palace moat and eventually breached the walls and crumbled the towers. Amy, with her artist's eye, found it fascinating and Mark chatted quietly with her about it.

It wasn't enough, though, it was never going to be enough - to complete the outing.  "Amy, will you do something for me, before we go back?"

"What?"

"A hand-job, like Sunday night. You know, your hands on my cock and making it spurt."

"Yes, I remember what that means."

"Good girl. Well, would you do it now?"

"Yes, I can do that."

"Okay, thank you. You're a lovely little wife."

He gave the delicate shoulder that he was embracing an affectionate little grope, before going on to explain that he would take his shorts and underwear off only - and that she needn't take anything off. He would simply lay there on his back, relaxing while she worked. It was only the second time she'd ever done it, in her life - although probably more than most girls her age back in the conventional world - so he'd give her some instructions as she went on. Hell, how many grown women were actually any good at it?

"Nice and gentle, Amy, that's right."

He breathed slowly and restfully, his hands behind his head and knees raised.

"Little squeezes, and pull it about a bit this way and that, until it's fully stiff."

That didn't take long, inside her warm little hand.

"Two hands now, grip it with two hands."

Mark sighed, opening and closing his eyes against the bright blue sky.

"Nice tight grip. Up and down... little movements, making the skin move."

Mark gasped, and closed his eyes for a longer spell, trying to delay his orgasm.

"Pull it around a bit, too - like a gear-stick, remember - just do one hand sometimes, then swap back."

Oh God, the throb, the swelling, mused Mark - and caused by a 9-year-old girl, his beloved Amy!

"Okay, go faster now... one hand, tight, tighter, round the middle..." Mark took sharp intakes of breath, and put his hands out to the sides.

"It's coming," said Amy, unknowingly using exactly the right word.

And Mark clutched the grass, grimacing and groaning in bliss, as he gave his child-wife a very sticky hand. "AUGHHHH! Ahhhhh... ahhhhh..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Now, Amy," said Mr Abramov. "Because you did so well with lesson one, we're going to move things on today."

His tone was light and happy. Amy was happy to have pleased him, and glad that she had done `well'. It was Wednesday morning, and there it was on the coffee table again - the skin-coloured `cock', made of rubber, thick and very long and sticking up - not straight up, but at a slanted angle. Just like Mark's in real, whenever he did all the nude married things with her. She noticed a few more things this time: it even had the detail of vains and ridges on it. At the bottom of it, though, instead of all those hairs and big skin-sack that Mark's real man one had, this one just had a thick square base.

"One thing, Amy, is to build on your technique now."

Amy nodded.

"Another thing we'll do: do you remember the taste of the stuff that came out of it last time?"

"Yes. It was vanilla yoghurt," said Amy, knowing it was always a mark of being grown-up if you expanded on simple `yes' answers.

"That's right. It was just normal, cold, vanilla yoghurt wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Well, today, princess, it will be a bit different. You know that is not what actually comes out of a cock, don't you?"

"Yes." Amy chuckled. It would have been strange to think that a man squirted out vanilla yoghurt from his body. Before Saturday, however, she had no idea that it squirted out anything - aside from the fact it was used to pee of course. Also, she had thought they were just soft wobbly things, not long and hard. The wedding night taught her otherwise, and the 3 days since.

"Do you know actually what it is?"

"Well, Mark says to call it cum." And it is very messy, has a strange strong smell, and seems to make Mark going into a funny `suffering' mood when he squirts it, she reflected.

"Yes, Amy. `Cum'. Anyway, today, we'll use warmed-up yoghurt and..." He showed her a bag of salt, and pinched some grains of it and sprinkled them into a tub of yoghurt which he'd just heated in the microwave. "So, let's fill Mr Cock's fuel tank." And, with a fun smile, he loaded the mixture into the base of the model.

Amy smiled back, a little reservedly. "It won't taste as nice with salt in, will it?"

"No, Amy, no. But it will still be quite nice. Anyway, we're going to have a little challenge. We'll try 3 times altogether, today." Amy gathered `we' meant `her', sucking it. "The first time I just want you to have a go, without any instructions from me, doing it as skillfully as you can from what you learnt already in Monday's lesson. And when I think you've made Mr Cock happy, I'll press the button - but this time I won't tell you when I'm pressing it, okay?"

Amy nodded.

"Try your best to swallow everything. Then, we'll talk about your technique, and on the second and third goes you have to see if you can make him spurt sooner. We'll time each go. Oh, and on the second and third tries there's no need to try to swallow - it'll be a bit sickly eating all that salty yogurt every time, won't it?"

Amy chuckled. "Yes."

"You can if you wish, though - just do how you feel. Spit it or swallow it. Don't worry about the table, or your T-shirt."

"Actually, I should take my top clothes off to do it, should't I?" she said, remembering Monday.

"Ahh, very good, Amy. You are learning already. Well, let's begin."

She pulled her T-shirt off, and she noticed how he looked at her naked chest, with traces of the same strong gaze that Mark always did. With Mr Abramov's finger poised on the button and his other hand fiddling in her hair, she took hold or Mr Cock and began.

`Open wide... round lips... slowly... slow suck at first' she remembered, and wondered when the mouthful of salty warm yoghurt would come.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When Amy was brought back to Mark on the Wednesday evening, he gave her the night off, so to speak. He didn't ask what she'd talked about with her Dad during her afternoon with him, save that she'd had a nice time. Whatever had been said, she seemed quite chirpy and at ease again, which was good enough for Mark. He did so want a happy little wife to love and cherish, and the cherishing could wait until tomorrow. Also, the details of her time with The Founder were once again secret, although Mark guessed it involved putting part of him in her mouth.

Thursday - another sunny Island day - dawned over honeymoon cottage. Officially, Amy could now be finger-penetrated, or have her little crotch passionately bumped and grinded against. The 5-days of the doctor's orders were up. She could not yet be properly fucked for another 5 days, though:  a total of 10 days since their wedding night had to elapse before he could make love, in the full sense, to his beloved wife for only the second time in their young marriage. That would be Tuesday next week: Mark was counting.

Before breakfast - before getting out of bed, in fact - he sat up and mentored Amy through a masterbation of his morning stiffness. She delivered it - her third ever - with quiet aplomb.

"There it is," she said, simply, when it spat forth. She pulled less of a face this time, at the thick white strings and splashes over her hand.

Mark restricted himself to a few dignified sighs this time. "Oh, nice, Amy. Thank you." Well, an adult should always model politeness.

Thursday, in any Island honeymoon, was `bartering day'. For this, the happy couple went to the village hall - a kind of tea and biscuits afternoon, 1pm to 4pm - whereupon deals were made for swapping or sharing, with whoever was interested enough to turn up. Island law had it that a bride was to be soley enjoyed by her husband for the first 4 weeks, but had to spend one night out of every 14 thereafter with somebody else. It was at husband's discretion what order to accommodate takers but, so long as any offer was `reasonable', it could not be refused. A beaurocrat was on hand to log details into the electronic dairy of Island sharing.

Mark was a little tense: that prospect of `losing control' over his beloved, the worry about how whomever might treat her, even though the first instance of it would be 4 weeks away. Island law strictly forbade any maltreatment of course, but even so...

"Hi Nathan," said Mark. He had arrived with Amy at 1pm to find a dozen folk there already. "How's things?"

"Good, good. Congratulations again, mate."

"Thank you. I think I've done almost as well as you!"

"Aww, better I'd say!"

After a few more pleasantries, they got down to what Nathan was obviously there for. He, a nice guy and 46-year-old former banker, was husband to one of the 4 other child-brides on the Island - defining `child' as under 13 - and she was `Ruthie', 7 years old.  Awww, so small, so cute!  She was a brunette, centre-parted and in bunches, and a lot more freckles than Amy. She was a gentle, smiley little soul like Amy, and indeed they had been close friends before Ruthie got moved up a class after her wedding, 6 months ago. Despite the time-span, Nathan had `not done an awful lot of hardcore stuff with her'. He was very protective and deeply in love, like Mark, and as such they felt they had a lot in common and wasted little time in thrashing out a basic deal. In 4 weeks time, they would go on a double date, with a view to sleeping with each other's wives at the end of it.

Next up was another person he had expected to see: Marion, the village storekeeper, a 36-year-old lesbian. She'd always liked Amy, and now would very much like to `babysit' her for a night. Although she was quite attractive herself - flabby, over-the-hill tits being her major downfall - her complementary offer was Annelise, her 16-year-old live-in store assistant. A strange cold fish, Mark was not particularly keen on Annelise as a person, but she was plenty sexy enough and always willing to fulfill her Island obligations. An orphan, she'd been a problem child back in their homeland, Germany, and met Marion as her leader in a youth outward-bound programme. The lesbian relationship seemed to answer a lot of her problems, and the two were more than happy to settle on the Island when its agents approached them. Mark agreed to a night's swap.

Third up was one he was less happy about: one of the Island's Russian teen boys, Evgeny, 18. He seemed okay, as the Russians went, but it was just the whole thing about his age group. Many of them were not interested in little girls, their hormones craving same-age or older fucks. Every now and then, though, one of them would get it into his head he wanted to `try pedo'. It was not a passion for them, but a kinky experiment, and as such the danger was they would approach it as a joke and a bit recklessly. Evgeny knew the Island law, though. Reluctantly, Mark agreed, and for his part got the offer of whomever was Evgeny's date when the time came round.

By the end of `Bartering Thursday', the diary for Amy had 11 names in it, which would bring extra-marital experiences for her stretching over the next 6 months.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On Friday, the last day of the honeymoon, it was important to have a nice day with Amy, so her parting memory of the momentous week - and him - would be a favourable one. It was all a lot for her sweet little mind to take in, and for her body and soul to get used to. It would be horrid if she hated to come back to him on Monday. Perhaps some sacrifices were in order, on his part. That, was it not, what love was all about?  Not easy, when he had at his disposal the options of doing oral on any part of her, touching any part of her, or even fucking her up her smooth little bum.

Gentleman and kind husband that he was, Mark took Amy to the beach in the morning to do her drawing and sand-palace building. No romantic stuff, just plain adult-child platonic behaviour. After lunch back at the cottage, he drove her to the leisure centre where she swum in the pool and enjoyed playing water polo with some other children. It was good to see her laughing and, as always, good to watch her in a one-piece bathing costume. It was hard not to think about sticking his adult penis into that compact little mound that was outlined through the wet fabric between her legs and, as he sat in the spectator's gallery supping coffee, he found himself casting his mind back to the sticky and blood-speckled wedding-night success of doing just that.

After dinner back at the cottage, it was to be a simple evening in, doing nothing more than playing games or letting her do her own thing. At about 8.30pm, as Mark was sitting on the lounge sofa and reading the Island Chronicle, Amy approached him. She'd had a subtle look about her all day, but particularly this evening, as if she had `something' to say to him.

"Mark?" she said.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Would you like me to give you a `blow-job'?"

Mark lowered the Chronicle. He pinched himself that what he'd heard had really come from Amy's mouth.

"Oh." He tried to sound calm. "Yes, Amy."

She smiled coyly. "I know how to do it."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"Well, Amy, that's a lovely thing to offer to do for your husband."

"Yes, I know." Okay, of course Abramov must have taken his fuck of her mouth by now, maybe more than once. This is how she knew about it. "Mr Abramov says you are free to do this from now on.

Ahh. "He did?"

"Yes. He said... `that is official'."

"Oh, I see. Well, good, then."

"He also said, `here is your wedding gift, and he hopes you enjoy it'."

"Ah, right."

She was thinking of something more. "And you will be the first `real one' I have done."

"Pardon?" She was about to try an explanation. "Ohhh - I see. So, you haven't, um, sucked Mr Abramov's real thingy - uh, `cock'?"

"No, just a model. I have been learning."

Wow. The Founder was generous.

"Ohh, Amy," Mark purred. He reached up and held her gently by the shoulders. "Well, yes - I'd like you to give me a `blow-job' now, thank you."

She smiled, looking convincingly earnest if a little nervous. "Here, now?"

"Yes, I think we'll do it here, sweetie. I'll sit here, and just take my trousers and pants off."

He did so, and then watched in surprised delight as Amy pulled her T-shirt over her head and also took off her shorts, leaving herself in only her little red knickers and socks - oh, and her Alice-band. "Shall I keep these on?" she asked, pointing to her middle.

"Uh, yes. Yes." Something about having one scanty cotton garment left on her body seemed extra-erotic.

Amy knelt between his legs and knowledgably took his hardening penis in her hands, looking at him as she squeezed and pulled on it a little. Then she bowed her head and started to give suck, leaving one hand around the base to assist herself. The shock of her soft, damp, little mouth, and the sight of her pretty blonde head down there immediately brought Mark to full arousal. He felt her nimble but challenged jaws working to accommodate the extra stiffness. She had about 2 inches in her mouth, increasing to 3 on the down-sucks. Her lips were a good, tight seal - hell, oh Christ, she even breathed on it!  Each bob of her head made his foreskin travel with it. He begun to pant deep and slow.

"Oooo, Amy. Oh, yes..." He took off her Alice-band and immersed his hands in her hair.

It seemed ridiculous that this mere act was the catalyst for his orgasm. She was quickening her pace of her own volition. "Faster, Amy... oh, yes faster..."

Mark grimaced, tensed, and arched backwards in his seat. The ache was excruciating, and the 9-year-old mouth of Amy was the best possible vagina in the world.

"Ahhhhh... UGH! URGHHH!" His penis spewed out his tingling load, and he held her head to let it flow into her mouth and throat, regardless of whether she was expecting this or not.

She gulped and wretched. Mark sighed, released her and guiltily watched a 9-year-old throwing-up on his thick, pungent man-stuff.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

EPILOGUE

It was Saturday morning before breakfast, the day of returning Amy to her Dad in Island village. Then, on Monday, she would be back with Mark to resume married life.

"Let's do horsey," said Mark. Amy had just finished in the bathroom and was still yawning a little.

"Oh, that?" She looked like she was unsure whether to regard it as fun or not, after experiencing it twice this week. Mark tried to give a fun smile. "Okay."

Her word of assent was all the inspiration Mark needed. He removed his bathrobe, and watched Amy notice his stiff cock. Amy unrobed her own small nude body.

"Just on the floor, this time," said Mark. Amy went onto all fours, and Mark knelt behind her.

Wrapping his hands in her hair - she had no Alice-band on yet today - he nestled the underside of his shaft and his hairy balls against the miniature female bum, and grinded on the crack. He increased the pressure, and proceeded in faster jiggling motions with his hips. Her buttocks were warm and tender meat against his groin.

"Come on, horsey needs to buck." He stabilized her by gripping her sides. She tried to rock back at him, with little grimaces at the exertion.

As his climax built, Mark endeavoured to piston his shaft from tip to base along her crack, pressing as snuggly as possible between the mini twin fleshes. The humour was usually in all the jolting and her danger of collapse, but she wasn't giggling much this time. 

No matter. Mark, intensely focusing down on his Amy's child-butt, jiggled and shoved his way to orgasm.

Hunched over, he completed the splattering Amy's back, making her lightweight body lurch forward with three aggressive pushes against her rear. "Eughh! Eughh! AUGHHHH!"


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* * * * * * * * * * THE END * * * * * * * * * *

Any feedback welcome to Mazeppa1968@hotmail.co.uk

my other stories http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/englishperv/
