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Author's Note: Stories on this site may contain fiction of an adult nature. They may contain themes involving Incest, under age sex, rape, bestiality, drugs or alcohol abuse. If these subjects make you uncomfortable please exit now. The stories are meant for the entertainment of adults as defined by your local government or society, if you are below this age please exit now. The author does not condone or encourage anyone to act in real life the way the characters depicted in this story act.
First Published: 02 April 2022
Meeting a pedophile - Chapter 1
by Jay F. Mugz Story Code: M/F/g, nosex, voyeurism, Underage sex
Thank you for reading my story...If you would like to comment to me directly, you can find me at incarefree on Wickr and incarefree2 at protonmail.com...as always, if you object to sex with minors, please go somewhere else. And, as always, please support asstr and all the fine work that this site publishes! * * * The stranger... It is the first warm day of the year. Spring has popped up now and again, but this day is sunny and the temperature is firmly in the 70s and people seem to be out everywhere. It is a good day to sit by the playground down the street from my house. I come here a lot. Sometimes it is quiet and sometimes it is overflowing with the sounds of children playing. The best times are when there’s only one or two kids and I can listen to their conversations and songs. Not that they would know I was listening, of course. I’m always deep in the covers of a book or the newspaper. But that’s simply my cover. I use the reading material as a ruse to make the mothers think that I’m a safe older man, not some perving pedophile...which, of course, I am. Today is a crowded day at the park. I’ve been on the bench for a good half hour and there are more than a dozen boys and girls playing on the swings and the bars and the slides. Occasional shrieks break the air along with the usual sounds of laughter and squealing. All the kids are wearing shorts or little sundresses. My favorite is when a little girl hangs upside down on the bars and her little dress falls up on her body. One day last year, a little one’s dress nearly came off her completely. She was naked except for her sandals, her tiny white panties and the dress that was only held on at her elbows as it hung to the ground. It was even off over her head...she’d nearly undressed herself completely in one fell swoop. Lucky me. Her mother wasn’t paying any attention and the little girl was a little flummoxed at being upside down, so I got a good long look. She was about first grade, so maybe six. Her little flat chest and tiny nipples were on full display, as was the camel toe visible under those panties. My throat ran so dry I was fearful I’d be discovered just on the basis of my own flummoxing. She was a beautiful little thing, and I could barely hide my instant erection under the newspaper folded in my lap. Needless to say, she gave my cock something to consider over the long winter. I dreamed of all the ways I could see that body again; ways I could touch her and make her smile; ways I could kiss her from her nose to her toes. That one memory, that one image, kept me warm all winter. But this was a new year, a new Spring. I recognized more than half the kids at the park, but its always nice to see new ones arrive. The neighborhood is somewhat transitional, so families don’t always stay for long. Some folks get better jobs and move on quickly, while others stay for generations. The sun grew longer in the trees and one by one parents called their kids off the equipment. Each call was uniformly followed by whining from the kid, followed by threatening to never come back by the parent, followed by sullen resignation from the child, and on and on. Two little girls were all that were still playing by the time I’d been there an hour. One was a brunette and the other a blonde. Both were cute as buttons and couldn’t of been older than 5. They were new friends and held hands as they ran from one piece of equipment to another. Their mothers had moved together as other families left and were now seated on a bench directly across from me. I had to be doubly careful with my glances as they could see me clearly. The brunette was wearing bib shorts. They were bulky, but didn’t give me much of a view when she’d climb a ladder or fly down a slide. She had cute little legs that ended in Keds. And as much as I enjoyed watching her, I have to admit it was her newfound friend that I kept my eyes on. The little blonde was in a sundress and flipflops. I’d seen her kick them off more than once and just run around the playground barefoot. Her mother would call her over and ask her to go and find her shoes and put them back on. Dutifully, the girl always had, but she clearly wanted to be wearing less, not more. She had those cute toes that some kids have. I can’t always explain it, but they just look suckable. Plus, they made my dick stir in my pants. Either her bare feet or the fact that her dress was frequently revealing her bright red panties. It was a pale yellow sundress. Why her mother would dress her in such garish underwear was beyond me, but it was like the light of a fire engine to my brain every time I’d see that flash of red. Well, maybe not my brain...maybe my cock. In any event, I never missed an opportunity to see up her little thighs to those beautiful cotton undies. I think I had been staring at the red panties for one moment too long when I heard a woman’s voice calling to the girls. “Time to go home,” she called out, “I need to start dinner.” The brunette’s head fell. She certainly didn’t want to leave her new friend or for play time to be over. Both girls went to their mothers’ bench as the brunette’s mom began to pack her bag. I expected that they would all be leaving any moment, but was surprised to see that the blonde’s mom didn’t reach for her bag. She just kept talking with the other mom and would casually rub her hands up and down her daughter’s back. As much as I wanted to keep up the charade that I wasn’t a pervert, I almost couldn’t look away. Seeing her hand rub her daughter’s back so casually made my mouth water. I knew those red panties were right there for the touching and it was a matter of inches below where the mom was rubbing. Just a little lower, just a little lower, I almost strained to say out loud. I looked up for a moment. I looked up from the girls lovely backside. And the mom was looking directly into my eyes. I froze. She must know, I thought. She must know everything. Surely the guilt played across my face like the headlines of a declaration of war. My eyes snapped back to my newspaper and I wanted to bury myself fully inside of it. Even hearing the other mom and daughter leave was not enough to get me to look up from whatever article was in front of me. I wanted to be taken away from that place without having to lift my face. I couldn’t bear the thought of what the blonde’s mother could be thinking. * * * The mom... It was the first warm day of Spring, and all I could think of was getting off work and taking Alison to the park. Covid and winter had lasted forever and I couldn’t be kept inside for another minute. We were new to the neighborhood, moving into an apartment complex when my husband got a new job late last Fall. Finding this park so close to our place was a Godsend. Alison and I first spotted it a few months back, in the dead of winter, when we were taking a rare walk outside. The playground itself was a small maze of slides and swings and climbing bars. It had a small treehouse just for kids, where they could shimmy up and slide down, all within clear sight, of course. I wanted to be outside as much as Alison did. We had been cooped up for months on end. If the cold wasn’t bad enough, Covid had kept us away from other families and other kids. Alison only had her first grade classmates to interact with, and that wasn’t always enough when she’d come home from school all alone. I just knew if we came to this park on a warm afternoon we’d find other kids for her to meet. And sure enough, on this afternoon when we arrived, there were a dozen or more kids running amok in and around all the playground equipment. I worried for a moment that Alison wouldn’t make friends. She stood alone for about a half second in the middle of the swirling mass. But then another girl stopped her running and introduced herself. That was all it took and Alison was off and running, too. I breathed a sigh of relief and found an empty spot among the benches with all the other parents. They were a social bunch and it didn’t take long to meet some of the other moms from the neighborhood. We mostly just exchanged pleasantries about the weather, the park, the kids. All I wanted to do was lay back and feel the sun on my face, relaxing to the squealing of children at play. But before I could truly relax, my parental “radar” kicked in. I noticed a man sitting by himself on a bench. It wasn’t the closest bench to the playground, but it was clearly with the other seating. He seemed to be engrossed in a book. That on its own wasn’t terribly odd, but he didn’t stop and look up when some kid would yell or scream or cry out, like the other adults did. He seemed a little too intent on his book, if that makes any sense. When I looked his way, he was certainly avoiding eye contact with any of the parents at the park, and he was most certainly not engaging in conversation with the other adults. He was just reading. And if I’d been less careful, I would’ve missed the momentary glance he made toward a little girl swinging upside down on the monkey bars only about 15 feet in front of his bench. It was just a look, but I knew in that moment that he was looking at her with an eye that took a snapshot of her little body as her short skirt bunched around her waist. That gave me a jolt! He’s a pedophile. What should I do? I don’t think I’d ever seen a pedophile before. Other parents had warned me about them. “Don’t leave your children unattended at the park,” they’d say, “even for a moment!” Alison was my only child, and I nodded vigorously at this sage advice every time it was given. Images of fables where children are eaten by witches and goblins were always in my mind. But he didn’t look particularly witchy or even golblin-esque. He looked like a normal guy reading a book. I watched him for a while. He was easy to watch undetected because he never looked up beyond the equipment directly in front of him and he certainly never looked my way. It gave me a little time to consider him. The glances were pretty regular, when you knew what you were looking for. He was definitely more interested in the girls than the boys. And he was especially interested in the girls in skirts and dresses. Those girls regularly offered glimpses of underwear, I now noticed. I found myself watching him watch children in an almost detached way. It didn’t take long to figure out what he liked and who he paid the most attention to. But it was still startling the moment I caught him looking at Alison. She and her new friend played for a few minutes on the bars near him. His glances fell on my little girl more than once. I was startled. For some reason, I hadn’t thought about him looking at Alison. I was just watching him out of some clinical curiosity. But his interest in my own little girl changed the equation. My mind raced through the “shoulds”: Should I tell somebody, should I grab Alison and take her home, should I confront him in front of all the other parents...should I... But even as my brain went through the progression of things I thought I ought to be doing, I stayed in my seat. I didn’t react in any of the ways that I thought I should be acting. What was I doing? Why was I sitting there? Why was I continuing to let this stranger—this pedophile—continue to watch my little Alison? Through the whir of the questions swirling in my brain, the truth hit me in the forehead—my clit was hard. What?? No seriously, what is happening? It’s a nice warm day, the sun is shining. Yes, its true that warm days like this remind me that all I want to do is lie naked in the sunshine, and I’m feeling constrained by my own dress. But that’s a mile away from watching a pedophile watch my little girl and getting turned on. What is my body doing? What is flipping this switch? I sat in stunned silence for a moment. My hands were in my lap and my gaze was at the ground in front of me. What is happening that I should be turned on right now? I looked up at the man on the bench. At exactly that moment, he looked up at my Alison, who was hanging off the bars not a dozen feet from him. She was sliding upside down in such a way that her dress was coming up slowly, inch by inch, as if she planned such a tortuous thing. It must have been excruciating for him to not just sit and watch. But his glances were coming faster now. He couldn’t pull himself away. And then suddenly there they were: her little red panties. Why had I let her wear that neon red underwear today? Because that’s what she chose, I told myself, nodding. There’s no changing Alison’s mind and its certainly not worth the fight. This stranger was looking at my 6 year old daughter in just her panties. My clit throbbed so suddenly I almost bounced out of my seat. What is wrong with me? I cannot be turned on by this man—this pedophile—looking at my little girl. In my mind’s eye I could see how it was turning him on. I was imagining what he might be imagining. And right now, what he was imagining was happening in front of him in little red panties. Clit throb again! Dammit! A flash of an image struck me: her sitting on his lap, only in those red panties, and his hands caressing her knees, then her thighs...his hands working his way up toward her little red cotton-covered mound... Stop it!! I was shaking my head back and forth with my interior conversation. If anyone had been watching me, they surely would’ve been concerned. Mentally, I was doing battle with the combination of that image and my own sense of right and wrong. Every time I looked over his way, wrong was winning. I had to look away in order to get some composure. Fortunately, just as I was getting nowhere in my own head, another mother walked up and introduced herself. She was the little brunette’s mom. Alison’s new bestie. She couldn’t have been nicer. She introduced Katie to me as the kids went whizzing by. They’d been in the neighborhood for three years now. She really liked the schools and the friends that Katie had made. She even offered her number so that the girls could have a “play date.” Her name was Annie. It was exactly the antidote to what I’d been feeling. Her cheery demeanor allowed me to shake out the cobwebs of whatever had entered my consciousness. All of it was easy to forget it in the moment talking with Annie. Before I knew it, the playground had grown quiet. The other families had packed up and headed home for dinner. Annie made noises about it being time to go, and Katie reluctantly agreed to leave. I was going to pack up, too, when I noticed that the man on the bench was still there. Alison was standing beside me, panting from exertion, when I looked his way. Suddenly and for the first time, I was looking him in the eye. He’d clearly been watching Alison. I realized with a start that he’d been watching me rub her back as I helped her breathe after so much running. I stopped gathering our things. Annie said something in passing about seeing us again and I almost absentmindedly nodded and waved. Just as Annie and Katie were walking away, I took a deep breath and straightened my back. I looked back at the stranger and he was concentrating in his book. What was I doing? my mind almost shouted at me. Alison just stood beside me, waiting for me to tell her what we were going to do. I couldn’t believe what my mind was suggesting. I was shaking my head again, even as I gathered up our things. What am I doing? again I said, almost out loud. I took a long look at Alison. My adorable little girl in her print dress and her dirty face and feet. And yet she was so beautiful, somewhere inside me I knew what others would find attractive about her. Her innocence, her pretty face, her smooth skin. I had always found her so touchable. What has that been about... What are you doing?? my mind screamed again, are you delivering your child to a pedophile?? My conscience never let up, even as I packed up our things and took Alison by the hand. I had no idea what I was doing and I was scared out of my mind. But I knew exactly what my body was telling me and I was making the decision to follow it and ignore every parenting instinct I had; I was choosing the unimaginably obscene to a civilized order of right and wrong; I was making an informed decision to bring my child to a pedophile. I straightened my back, stood up, and took the first step toward the stranger with my little girl in tow. I had the perfect bait dressed in red panties... “Hello,” I said... 3,189 Words.
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