                           Jenny                              
                       An Erotic Story

     In my mind I call her Jenny.  I never knew her real
name.
     
     After all these years, I still curse myself for never
asking.  At the time, it seemed the most intelligent thing
to do.  Now I know how incredibly dumb I was.  Yes, dumb.
When you're 26, a little over two years out of the Service,
still a virgin, and horny as an old goat, you'll do some
incredibly stupid things too.  At the time (this was back
about late spring or early summer of 1948), being young, I
thought myself invincible.  Nothing could harm ME.  Not
bullets, not people.  I even laughed at the idea of going to
jail.  I never dreamed how much I could be hurt.
     
     I was freshly out of a job that day; but wasn't
worried.  Back then, with my invincible attitude, I knew I
would find one within a few days of when I started to look.
Still, I wasn't in any hurry; wanting to enjoy a few days of
unscheduled vacation before looking.  I knew that any job I
took would require at least a year's work (and probably two)
before they gave me any vacation time.  That's the way the
Corporate World worked.  Since I'd just gone almost two
years without vacation, when the shop I was working in
unexpectedly closed down (New owners.), I felt entitled to
spend at LEAST a week on vacation, before getting seriously
down to job hunting.
     I never knew then, that I was a pedophile.  At least,
that's what they'd call me these days.  I was SERIOUSLY
attracted to young women; but thought then mostly of looking
at women from the ages of about twelve years old to about
eighteen, or twenty tops.  These days, even thinking about
sex with a 12-year-old would get you classified as a
pedophile.  Back then, there wasn't even such a category ...
I think.  Heck, in those days it was considered NORMAL to
look at a nicely turned-out teenager or even pre-teen girl,
and remark how much you'd like to get in her pants.  (Yeah,
pants.  In those days, all women AND girls wore dresses and
skirts.  If you talked about getting in a woman's pants, you
meant those *underneath* her skirt.  Nowadays, you'd call
them panties ... flimsy, frilly things.)  "Old enough to
bleed, is old enough to breed," went the saying.  We were
just getting out of the days when most men married girls as
young as twelve ... and an "old maid" was a girl of 16-18,
who was still unmarried.  By then though, the "old maid"
stage had slipped with advancing life expectancy, until, at
the time this took place,  you wouldn't think of a girl as
being an old maid until she was at least in her middle
twenties. I doubt even the girl's mother was that old;
probably marrying her childhood sweetheart at fourteen, her
first kid within a year, and then divorced (a "grass widow")
five or six years later.  Just thinking about it makes me
feel so STUPID!  There's nothing in the world to make an old
man's heart ache, as much as missed chances.
     
     In my mind I call her Jenny.  I never knew her real
name.
     
     There I was, sitting in the park, listening to the
birds, the breeze in the trees, and just enjoying a nice
sunny summer day.  One of the reasons I like to visit parks
(besides those stated) was I also like to watch children
play.  Back then, I had dreams of getting married and having
children of my own.  Still, up to then I'd never even
properly kissed a girl (other than my sister ... once) and
never gotten further with one than the single time I'd
gotten a finger in MaryLou's pants that time we were sitting
at the dinner table when I was visiting the cousins.  Now
THAT was dumb too!  Sitting there, in the living room, with
your hand up underneath your cousin's skirt, hand in her
panties, and a finger slipping in and out of her slippery
little slit.  If we'd gotten caught....
     But we didn't.  After supper that night, I tried again
... but neither MaryLou nor either of her two younger
sisters would sit with me for the rest of the night.  I
guess their big sister told them what I did.  Thankfully, my
mother never found out.
     But that was almost ten years earlier.  At twenty-six,
I was (I figured) probably the only virgin in the whole
state older than twenty; with no chance it seemed of
correcting that condition.  Not that I was that ugly, mind
you.  Tall, skinny, not exactly handsome, but not ugly.
What I was, was terminally shy with women.
     Kids, on the other hand, make my day.  I still love
being around kids; their infectious giggles about silly
things can brighten up the most serious grump's day.
Getting one of the little angels to sit on my lap, or to
hold a cute baby in my arms ... These are the precious
memories an old man turns over in his mind like faded leaves
of autumn, caught and pressed in a book for safekeeping.
With each examination they grow slightly more ragged and
fragile.  That's why I'm writing this down.  I don't want
ALL memory of that precious hour forgotten forever.  Even I
will soon be gone; but maybe this record will survive after
me.
     
     In my mind I call her Jenny.  I never knew her real
name.
     
     The first time I saw Jenny, was when her mother walked
by me in a scented whirl of soft skirt that drew my
immediate attention.  The woman, looking barely in her
twenties, if that, looked almost too young to have three
children of her own.  All I remember of her though, was a
fairly tall woman, brown hair, sharp nose, and off-orange
dress that reached to her ankles.
     "C'mon, Children," she directed her brood.  "We only
have a couple hours to play."
     "Yaaaayyy!" came the enthusiastic response from the
kids.  I'm not sure which two of the three.  With the shrill
whistling shriek, the three kids scampered off in three
directions in the playground; the youngest two for each end
of the sandbox, while the older girl headed for the teeter-
totter, in hopes I suppose of getting some of the other kids
to take the other end.
     When I saw the young mother heading for my bench, I got
up myself and moved towards the empty swing-set.  I told you
I was shy.  Right then, though I didn't know it, I missed an
opportunity that I've been cursing myself for ever since.
If I'd ONLY introduced myself!   <Sigh.>  Now, as then,
missed opportunities almost never come back.
     Back then, swings were wooden boards, usually with
ropes.  Metal was usually too expensive for swings; so it
wasn't until some years later that they started using chains
for durability ... and then later rubber slings, so kids
couldn't come flying out of them so easily and get hurt.
Also, so kids wouldn't get hurt by a wooden board smacking
them in the head, I guess.  Our litigious society, these
days.  But this is now; that was then.
     I sat there for close to twenty minutes; seemingly
reading my book ... but actually sneaking peeks at the two
darlings playing in the sandbox.  It seems the older of the
two youngsters, a girl about six who pointedly avoided her
little brother, had somehow neglected to wear panties that
day ... And every so often she'd be turned my way when
squatting; and I'd get an almost full view of her bare
little cunny!
     "She does that on purpose, you know," came a quiet
voice at my elbow.  The girl's older sister was standing
there; trying to sneak a peek at the volume in my hand.
Well ... you don't just show, "An Autobiography of a Flea"
to a kid you meet in a park!  I, quietly and as nonchalantly
as I could, put the book aside, and tried to distract the
girl by asking what she was talking about.
     "My little sister," she explained.  "She likes to show
off her crack.  Acts like it's an accident.  Some day some
guy is going to put his `thing' in her, and she'll really
squeal."  She paused a moment, then added thoughtfully, "Of
course, she might really like it too.  I sure do."
     I almost fell off the swing, at the unexpected
statement.  You just DON'T have a little girl walk up to you
in the park, tell you how much she likes to have big horny
men put their swollen pricks all the way up inside her tight
little cunny, and squirt her tummy full thick white cream!
Well ... Jenny did.  Jenny.  That's what I call her in my
mind.
     I was saved from having to make an intelligent reply by
the girl's mother picking that moment to come over.  "Uh ...
say?' she asked hesitantly.
     I woggled my eyebrows; bringing a giggle from the child
next to me.
     "You seem to like watching the kids," she began, "and I
was wondering ...."
     "Yes?" I asked.  Hell, I was almost beet red from
embarrassment.  I was lucky to get that out, what with the
conversation (if you could call it that) that I had been
having with her eldest daughter.
     "I was WONDERING," she repeated; now blushing herself,
"if you could watch the kids for a few minutes.  I don't
want to leave them alone.  You hear all these stories these
days about perverts who hang around playgrounds."
     Well ... I wasn't a pervert ... or at least didn't
consider myself one THEN.  Except for my cousin, I'd never
molested a girl in my life; and I'm not too sure even that
would be considered abnormal; just sexual experimentation of
two kids, since we were the same age.
     "Uh ...," I said, looking around for somebody to rescue
me.  Not that I really MINDED watching the cute youngsters
... I was doing that already.  I just didn't think I was the
best person for the job ... not with a hard-on from looking
up her little six-year-old's short little dress!  There
didn't appear to be a living soul except for us within
blocks.
     "Please?!" she pleaded.  "It's only a few blocks back
to the car; and I don't want to leave the kids unattended.
It'll only be a few minutes ... half an hour at the most.
If I take the kids back with me, they won't get to play; and
I really PROMISED them they'd have some time at the park
today.  Please?" she repeated.
     "Uh ...."  I always was a sucker for a damsel in
distress.  She was pretty, the kids were cute and sexy, and
I didn't have anything at all I really needed to do right
then,
     The mother seemed to sense my capitulation.  "Thanks,
really," she almost gushed.  "I'll make it up to you.  You
won't regret it.  I'll be back in a half-hour ... 45
minutes, tops!"  This last was almost yelled back.  "Now you
kids be nice for Mister ... uh  ... Mister.  You do what he
says, OK?"
     "Yes, Mom," from my elbow.  A distracted, "Yes, Momma,"
from the sandpit.  No reply at all from the youngster at the
other end.
     I turned to the sprite next to me.  "Your sister really
does that deliberately?" I asked.
     "Uhuh," she nodded, seriously.  "So do I; but I try not
to be so obvious about it."
     "Oh," I gulped; somewhat nonplused by the idea that the
youngster standing beside me had nothing on under the short
skirt she was wearing but her own bare skin.  "Can I see
it?" I asked daringly.
     Carefully the child looked around on all sides before
saying, "I guess so," and quickly flapping her skirt high so
that I got a quick glance at the bare body underneath.  A
flashing view of puffy little cunny-lips, and an oh-so-sweet
look at a bare little belly.
     "I can't let you look very long," she apologized.
"Somebody might see us."  Damn, the kid had more sense than
I did!  It was with some disappointment that I heard her
say, "Can you swing me?"
     Well ... If I couldn't sit there examining the little
tart's treasures I guessed I could push the child's swing.
Heck, if I pushed it from the FRONT, then I'd probably get
quite a few glances up the child's skirt.  That certainly
wouldn't hurt; and it wouldn't be as if I was molesting her!
I started to get up.
     "Not THAT way," she pouted; stopping my getting off the
seat.  "I want to sit in your lap," she explained.
     Oh.
     I shouldn't have done in ... But I did.  If I had known
what was going to happen, both then and in the years to
come, I'm still trying to convince myself I would have
stopped.  I'm a liar too.  I know darned well I would have
continued anyway.  Like I said, young guys that age think
they're invincible.  Nothing bad can happen to THEM.  I'm
ashamed to admit it, but I did it.  Yes, I picked up the
youngster and sat her square in my lap; her skinny legs
dangling down on either side; and her bare little cunny
rubbing against the front of my pants!  The short skirt the
child wore was just long enough to barely cover up the two
of us without showing she didn't have anything on
underneath.
     "See?" she whispered in my ear; while I started rocking
the swing gently.  "Now you can reach up under my dress and
touch me; and nobody will notice."
     Oh God.
     I looked around, and still all I could see was a few
trees, and the two younger kids still playing quietly in the
sandbox.  The girl's younger sister though, threw a big grin
at us as she saw my hand was already underneath her big
sister's skirt.
     God the child was smooth and warm and erotic.  I
couldn't help myself; barely able to keep one hand holding
onto the rope; keeping the two of us semi-steady, while I
felt up the child with the other one.  Smooth and warm and
... dipping one finger experimentally into the child's slit
... wet and slippery inside.
     The little girl didn't object; instead pushing back at
me as my middle finger slid inside her tight little tunnel
to the hilt.  "That feels good," she murmured, before
reminding me to keep on swinging slightly so nobody would
suspect.  The hard part was doing that without having a
heart-attack.
     "Billy likes to put his `thing' in me when we do this,"
she moaned; trying to push herself even farther onto my big
finger.
     "Billy?" I asked; looking in surprise at the little boy
in the sandbox.  No way a kid THAT young would or even could
....
     "Billy ... My big brother."
     Oh.  I was still almost shocked speechless that a girl
this young would not only let her brother feel her up; but
seemed to enjoy the idea of complete vaginal intercourse .
Something even *I* hadn't experienced yet; and I was close
to three times her age.
     "Please?" she whimpered.  "It feels REAL good that way.
I'll make it feel good for you too."
     When I didn't reply; the child squirmed even harder;
trying to force my whole hand inside her body.  "Billy
really likes it a lot," she added persuasively.
     I was lost.  I'll BET her big brother liked it "a lot".
I could just imagine how tight the youngster's tight little
tunnel would feel around my swollen prick.  Her vagina was
already making rippling motions on my invading finger.  I'd
never really gotten my prick inside a real girl before ...
and here I was RESISTING the first one who asked me???
     For some reason, the age of the girl I was about to
lose my virginity with, didn't bother me in the slightest.
It just didn't seem important right then.
     
     Like her mother, the girl could sense the collapse of
my resistance.  Hurriedly looking around again she reached
underneath herself, unbuttoned my pants, unfastened my belt,
pulled the front of my pants open, reached down inside my
underwear, and pulled out my swollen and leaky prick.  It
was obviously NOT the first time the girl had done something
like this, as the youngster managed the whole operation
without getting off my lap or me moving off the swing.
Luckily there was a building and fence just behind us; as
anybody now passing to our rear would have seen me sitting
on my pants; my bare rear-end hanging out for all the world
to see.  The child's short skirt still hid the obscene
things going on from the front.  I didn't dare do more than
slightly rock the swing though, in a parody of swinging.
     "Are you sure?" I barely managed to gasp, as the little
girl grasped my prick, and directed the cum-dripping head
against her almost equally slippery little crack.  Way too
late, if you ask me now.  I was almost scared to death we
might get caught; yet unable to stop myself since the child
seemed so eager.  Besides, I'll admit it, my prick was doing
most of my thinking right then.  Only the fact that the
child obviously had done this many times before (With her
own BROTHER?) kept her young age from sending me screaming
in fright.  As it was, I certainly wouldn't be abusing the
little girl's innocence!
     "Uhuh," she muttered; concentration aimed mostly at my
penis; fitting the member firmly against her tight little
baby-hole.  "Billy really likes it when I do THIS," she
groaned ... and then slid down my prick to the hilt!
     Oh God!  I almost groaned my ecstasy as I felt a tight
ring surround the head of my prick ... and then ripple
smoothly down  until it was making almost incredibly tight
spasms round the base where my pubic hair had finally turned
into a fairly decent bush.  It was all I could do to keep
from wailing my ecstasy at losing my virginity to the world
... And no doubt bringing twenty thousand cops running to
see who was being killed.  It was only THAT scary notion
that kept me from yelling aloud.
     Blinking back unexpected tears, I checked hurriedly
around again to see who might notice the pervert in the
park, now mated to a little girl perhaps only a third his
age.  Nobody except the child's little sister, who was now
unabashedly staring at where my prick vanished into her big
sister's body; now completely unaware that she was making
almost as erotic a display herself, with her short skirt
rumpled almost up to her belly-button, and wet little charms
fully in view of any passer-by who happened along.
Thankfully, nobody did.  I still shudder to think about it.
     "Oooh, you're even bigger than Daddy."
     Oh shit.  Every man likes to know he's big; but the
thought of this little precocious morsel taking her own
father's prick inside her almost had me spouting before I
barely got inside her.  "You fuck your own daddy?" I asked.
     "I used to," she pouted.  "Then Momma caught Daddy in
my room one night, and they had a big argument.  He never
came back; and I miss him," she sniffled.  "After that, it
was only me and Billy."
     Oh.  "You and Billy," I repeated dumbly.
     "Billy taught me this," announced the girl sitting on
my prick; seeming to recover her cheerfulness immediately,
now that she had a prick inside her.  The youngster
deliberately did not bounce up and down.  I guess it would
have been way too obviously a little girl fucking.  She
closed her eyes; and her mouth screwed up in concentration,
while I felt ripples of muscles running up and down the
engorged member.  "See," she told me, "I TOLD you I'd make
it feel good for you."
     Oh God, did she ever.  Too damned good for her own
good, it seems.  "I'm going to cum," I announced in barely a
groan. I didn't dare say it louder.  Still, I had to warn
the child, even if she WAS way too young to worry about
getting pregnant.
     "Are you going to put your baby-stuff inside me now?"
she asked.
     
     I almost let her have every drop right then.  Still, I
somehow managed to hold on.  After all, I wanted my first
sex to last longer than five seconds!  While I was in a
hurry to finish before her mother got back ... or anybody
ELSE noticed the obscene thing going on over at the swings
... or some other children showed up, a few more seconds
wouldn't make that much difference; while it would double or
triple the time I had spent fucking a real live girl.  What
a way to lose your virginity!
     "How old are you, Hon?" I asked.  Something I should
have known a long time ago.  Heck, some kids look younger
than their ages.  The kid could be eleven or twelve even.
Some kids didn't develop breasts or hair on their vaginas
until then.  My prick actually wilted a little inside her at
the scare.
     "Eight," she replied; holding up both hands; one with
thumb and little-finger tucked under.  "And a half," she
added proudly.
     8 1/2 ... still a kid, thank Goodness.  "You're too
young to have a baby yet," I reassured her; breathing a
silent sigh of relief myself.
     "Momma won't let me take Billy's baby-stuff in my tummy
any more," the girl responded.  "She made us stop when my
periods started, about two months ago."
     Oh shit, oh shit, oh SHIT!  I couldn't help it.  The
child's rippling cunny around my prick caught me by
surprise.  I had been paying more attention to the
conversation than I had to the incipient eruption in my
prick.  All the time we had been talking, the little eight-
year-old had been milking my prick with her tight little
cunny ... and the youngster finally got what she had been
begging me for ... a belly full of thick white cum.
     "It's not so much fun when he has to pull out, just
when it's getting exciting," she complained; squirming and
squeezing, and rippling her muscles up and down my prick.
     That was too much.  I felt the first thin squirt of
sperm spit out my prick, and into the child's welcoming
belly.  It was soon followed by thicker and more satisfying
squirts.
     "Are you putting your baby-stuff in me now?" she asked;
her attention obviously drawn by the fact that our movements
had suddenly gotten slicker.  It was WAY too late for me to
pull out; so I just let it flow.  Spurt after spurt, and jet
after jet sprayed into the child, as it felt like I was
almost pissing sperm into the child's womb.  If fifty cops
had arrived at that moment, I wouldn't have been able to
stop fucking the child; jerking my sperm into her body in
squirt after thick glorious squirt.
     "Uhuh," I groaned; unable to stop myself.  "I'm doing
it right now.  Oh God, it feels good."
     "Thanks, Mister."  She squirmed on me.  "Did you like
it?"  She had to ASK?
     "Uhuh," I agreed; panting into her neck; enjoying the
sweet scent of little girl added to the thick musk of male
cum.  "I liked it a LOT."  The understatement of the
century.
     My prick finally wilted a little; not really getting
soft; but soft enough to pull out without hurting her.  A
thick white flood followed.
     "Wow," she muttered, "you sure do come a LOT ... even
more than Daddy did.  Is that really the stuff that makes
babies?" she asked, innocently.
     "Uhuh," I could barely groan; guilt now overtaking me.
     "Wow," she repeated.  "Am I going to have a baby now?"
she asked, hopefully.  "I want one, and Mom won't let Billy
put his baby-stuff in me any more," she added with a slight
moue of disappointment.
     Suddenly guilt warred with a desire to give the little
girl what she was asking for.  No wonder she let a strange
man feel her up, fuck her, cum in her, and fill her tiny
little womb with sperm.  I'd never met a girl before who
WANTED to get pregnant; though I've learned since it's not
all that uncommon ... even in girls too young have babies
yet.  It's just not something people advertise.
     "Well ... Maybe," I explained.  "Most girls don't
usually get pregnant on the first try.  Usually it takes at
least two or three times of a man putting his baby-stuff in
a girl before she catches.  Though it could happen.  You're
a little young yet; but you COULD have my baby inside you
right now."
     Oh God ... I could just see the headlines now, "Nine
year old girl has BABY!  Pervert in Park Arrested  Man gets
99 years with no parole for fucking baby."  Not that the
girl was a baby ... far from it.  She was more woman than
most 25-year-olds.
     "Wow!  He really did it in you, didn't he?" came the
wide-eyed voice of the child now staring at her big sister's
crotch where my seed was slowly trickling out.  "That's even
more stuff than Billy squirts," observed the youngster;
looking in amazement at the mess in her sister's lap.
     "Yeah ... Well help me clean up," agreed the older
girl; taking her skirt and wiping between her legs.   "Here,
let me borrow YOUR skirt a bit," she commanded; taking the
little 6-year-old's and using it to finish wiping my dick.
Neither youngster seemed the slightest embarrassed at
showing off their completely bald little cunnies to a
stranger who had just ejaculated inside the older girl.
"There, that'll do it I guess," she decided, once I was just
a little sticky.  "You'd better get dressed before Momma
gets back," she told me with the same voice-of-command she'd
used on her little sister.
     Oh God ... talk about losing track of the really
important things!  If anybody had caught me with my pants
down like that, just TALKING to two little pre-teenaged
girls, they wouldn't HAVE to find sticky sperm in the
youngster's twat to send me to jail forever.  I almost cut
my prick off with my zipper; fighting to get the thing
closed.
     Wouldn't you know it?  In my hurry, the damned thing
JAMMED; and I could see their MOTHER coming up the sidewalk
leading to the park.  Oh DAMN!  I didn't even get my prick
properly back in my underpants.  Shit.
     Still, we DID manage a bit of decorum.  I managed to
pick my book up, cover my lap with it, and PRETEND to be
reading to the two girls when their mother finally arrived.
JUST in time.
     "Were the girls good?" she asked; almost causing me to
choke.  I didn't DARE tell her how good the girls really had
been.  Thankfully, she noticed the book in my lap so I
didn't have to reply.  "Oh ... I see you're READING to the
girls," she exclaimed with obvious delight.  "The girls
really DO like a good book; and I hate to interrupt."  She
looked at the cover, which I had down in my lap; just barely
covering the open fly and bare prick underneath.  "It looks
kind of rare," she added.
     "It is," I agreed.  "It's a classic."  Well ... It was,
and is.  NOW you can buy the book in almost any bookstore,
brand-new, right off the rack.  Back in THOSE days, days of
"The Comstock Act" even having the book in your possession
could probably have gotten you twenty years in Federal
Prison.  Now the world has swung twice; and BOOKS are now
legal ... even books like, "Autobiography of a Flea".
Pictures however ....
     For a short while, ALL pictures and books were legal
... even pictures (and books of pictures) of girls as young
or even younger than the girl I had just had sex with,
having real sex, full vaginal sexual intercourse with grown
men, sucking and fucking like grown-ups, were legal.  Many
(a few years after this) coming from Denmark Sweden, and
even Holland, where in THOSE days, a girl could have sex as
often as she wanted ... and as young as she wanted.  Many
did; and quite a few of them posed while doing it.  It was
good pay, and the kids enjoyed it.  Years later, long after
it became extremely illegal, many of those kids still looked
fondly back at the days when they were sex stars.  Of
course, I know now there was some completely illegal and
abusive porn being made, even back then, where the children
weren't protected like those Danish "sex star" kids were.
     Now, just owning one of those old beat-up pictures you
bought legally over-the-counter will get you more years in
jail than actually fucking, sucking, and getting one of the
youngsters pregnant with your baby will.  Sad, isn't it?  A
man and wife can be "underage" (16) and go to jail for
taking pictures of themselves having sex ... Getting ten or
twenty years in prison for "producing child-pornography";
where the EXCUSE is that, "Children are being molested and
hurt, to make those pictures!"
     Say what?  You send a child to JAIL for 20 years ... to
PROTECT them from HAVING PICTURES TAKEN of them making love?
When THEY are the ones taking the pictures of their own
completely legal actions of having sex together?
     "The Law, Sir, is an ASS!"  Truer words never spoken.
     However, in THOSE days, things were even worse, if you
can believe it.  A man could get arrested and sent to
FEDERAL prison, just for printing a sex-education-manual for
married women, to tell them about birth control.  Yes,
REALLY.  FEDERAL prison, because the PAPER the pamphlet was
PRINTED on had crossed State-Lines before being used to
print "pornography".  Yeah, right.  It doesn't seem right
NOW; but back then it was the Law of the Land ... just like
today's idiocy about people looking at PICTURES is the same
thing as doing what's on the pictures ... at least for child-
porn.  If that's the case, why isn't it illegal to look at
pictures of bank-robberies or hijacking or murder?  Aren't
those far worse crimes than a little girl getting fucked by
somebody she loves?  Oh .. They're not.  Sorry.  Funny thing
that ... It seems it's a far WORSE crime to look at a
picture of a little girl having sex than to rape, torture,
burn, and kill that same little girl, taking days or even
months to torture the child to death.
     No?  Then why the FUCK is the punishment for looking at
the picture worse than that for raping and murdering the
same girl?  To me, something seems wrong about our country's
attitude towards anything having to do with sex ... and
especially books or pictures thereof.  (Like this story:  A
long LONG prison-term, back in the days when the story took
place; while actually DOING the things in the story wasn't
all that bad ... If you married the girl, which in some
places was even possible back then.  Again, I curse myself
for the stupid fool that I was.
     Sorry ... I'll get off the soapbox now.
     The point was: Just HAVING that particular book in my
hot little hands back then, was a worse crime than what I
had been doing to the little girl ... just because it was
WRITTEN down!  And I (idiot that I was) was sitting there
using THAT BOOK to hide my half-hard erection from their
mother.  Talk about STUPID.  Ah well ... You get wiser as
you get older ... or you don't grow much older.
     "It's a book about a young girl growing up," I croaked;
trying to get out of the mess without drawing more attention
to either the book itself, OR what I was trying to hide
underneath it.  "It's VERY hard to get ... Almost no
libraries have it," I explained.  The book looked the part.
And ... I was right.  I knew the Vatican Library had a copy,
also (I presume) The Congressional Library.  Possibly even
The Louvre.  However, none of THEM would let anybody except,
"serious liturgical scholars" look at such perverse
material.  Books like that, "Casanova," and even, "Lady
Chatterly's Lover," not to mention, "Lolita," were generally
only passed around under-the-counter at extremely exorbitant
prices.  But they STILL could be bought ... IF you knew
where to get them.  I did, luckily.  However, I wasn't TOO
worried about the woman recognizing the title.  It didn't
SOUND sexy, like, "The Many Loves of Casanova."
     "Well, why don't you continue reading to the girls for
a bit.  We don't have to go just yet."  Oh shit.  Trapped by
my own cleverness.  What could I do?
     I read the girls a chapter from the book.  Wouldn't you
know it was the part where Belle helps a man take his own
daughter's virginity, and get her pregnant with his baby?
At least I THINK that's what happened.  It's been years
since I finally lost my copy.
     Both girls stood there and just giggled; a thin drool
sliding down the older girl's ankle; soaking her socks; both
girls smelling intensely of male cum sticking to the insides
of their short little dresses; while I falteringly read
paragraph after paragraph about a man taking his daughter's
virginity, fucking her, cumming in her, and getting the
child pregnant with his baby ... just like the child right
next to me might be conceiving MY child as we talked.  I
should have gotten up and run away.  I should have asked the
little girl standing at my side to marry me.  I should have
done the same thing with her little sister.  I SHOULD have
gone over to the woman on the bench and asked her for a date
... her name, address, phone-number, ANYTHING, just to not
lose track of her.  I should have flagged down a passing
priest and married the woman.  I should have told her I was
in love with her little girl.  Anything!
     I did none of those things.  I just read a chapter to
two smirking little girls, who probably never dreamed such
stories existed, and then finally shut the book when their
mother got up.
     "Thanks for watching the girls," she smiled.  "It
really helped ... A lot!"  "If there's ANYTHING I can do to
show my appreciation," she added, "you be sure and come over
to ask ... Mr. ...?"
     If ever there was an obvious invitation, that was it.
Stupidly, stupidly STUPIDLY! I didn't take the invitation.
I was too bloody worried about the thick cum still dripping
from her oldest daughter's slit.  If I had half a BRAIN, I'd
have realized that a woman who didn't raise big objections
to her older son pumping his prick in and out of his two
sister's taut little bellies; spewing thick cum in the
younger girl when the older of the two got too old ....
     Dumb, dumb, DUMB!  You get wise when you get older; but
there's nothing like lost opportunities to make a man feel
miserable when he gets old.  It took a few minutes to gather
up shoes, socks, and other paraphernalia that kids tend to
lose in playgrounds ... and especially sandboxes.  Then they
were leaving.  <Sigh.>
     It must have been one last try on her part; and I'll
never forgive myself for not seeing it; but it's too late
now.  "Go back and thank the nice man for watching you," the
woman told the older girl.  "You can catch up with us after
you're done.  We'll walk slow and wait for you."  Today,
those very words just SCREAM invitation ... and knowledge
about what her little girls and I had been up to.  How COULD
I have been that dense?
     "Momma said to come over here and thank you," repeated
the girl.  "Thanks for putting a baby in my belly.  It makes
me feel all gushy and wet inside."  Well ... she SHOULD have
been wet, with all the sperm I'd ejaculated inside the
child.
     "Mmmm.  I'm supposed to kiss you properly," she told
me.  I didn't remember her mother saying a word about
kissing.  Still, maybe it was a routine practice in her
family ... only I'm sure not like WE did.  Or maybe I'm
wrong.  I'll never know now.  <Sigh.>
     "Oh, not like THAT," she complained; as I bent down for
a chaste little smooch.  Darn, I was sure going to hate to
see the last of her.  (Again, stupid, stupid, stupid!)
     "Like THIS," she explained; climbing me like a
squirrel.  Placing each leg on either side of my waist, the
little girl sat down on the swing facing me; her legs
pointing in the opposite direction from mine.  Her wet and
bare little cunny splatted wetly on my now-exposed prick,
while she shoved her little face at mine.
     I pecked at her lips; quite distracted by the feel of
her cunny slobbering on my now-erect penis.
     "Not like that," she complained again.  "Open your
mouth, dummy"  She had my name right THERE.
     "Mmmmm.  That's better," the youngster moaned into my
open mouth.  "Thanks for putting a baby in my belly," she
repeated.
     Oh God.
     "You're welcome," I groaned; lifting her a little so my
now-erect prick could fit inside her.  By then I didn't give
a DAMN, if her whole family, mother, sister, brother, BIG
brother, police, or the entire neighborhood stopped over to
watch.  I just HAD to get my prick inside the little girl's
tight little tube again.  Devil be damned.
     "Uh, Uh, OOOhh!  The youngster slid down my prick until
it was in to the root; and the child's talented little inner
muscles were doing their dance again; milking my prick for
it's seed.  "Uhn, uh, unh," she grunted; bouncing up and
down on my lap.  "Are you going to put your baby-stuff in me
again?" she asked; not stopping her squirming and milking on
me.
     `Uh, huh, huh," I grunted in time to the, "Slap, slap,
slap," of our genitals meeting.  If her mother had looked
back NOW, there wouldn't have been the slightest doubt what
the two of us were doing on that swing. "Here it c - c -
comes," I warned the little girl ... way too late; as I was
already squirting thick sticky streams of goo inside her.
     "Uh, uh, uh, th - th - thank you," she answered; also
in time to the thick wet slaps of our jerking bodies.  "It
feels NICE," she whined.  "Much better than Bobby ... Better
than DADDY even.  Oooh, thank you."
     With that we had to pull apart.  I gave the child one
last open-mouthed kiss, and told her I loved her very much.
Why, oh WHY did I stop there?  My heart still aches.
     She gave me a grin that lit up the park like sun coming
out from behind clouds.
     Pulling off my lap; she ignored the mess this time; not
even using her dress to slop up the spill.  She was halfway
to the corner when she turned and said with the sunny smile
I'll always treasure, "Thanks for the baby, Mister," and was
gone.
     The whole family turned the corner, and I never saw any
of them again.  I knew the girl's mother simply could NOT
have missed what her daughter said; as the girl was probably
closer to her family than me ... and I heard each clear word
in that childish yet somehow adult voice very distinctly.
     It wasn't until two minutes later, still staring after
the departing family, that I came to my senses.  DAMN!
     "WAIT!!" I suddenly yelled; starting after them at a
run.  The book and backpack I'd brought along went flying as
I tore off around the corner in frantic search of my lost
love.  "Wait!"
     My words died to a whimper, as I realized nobody was to
be seen.  Oh, two or three people WERE on the sidewalk; but
nowhere in sight was a family of three kids and a woman ...
or anything looking like such.  Somewhere up ahead, a big
blue car pulled out from the curb ... but the chances were
probably good it wasn't them either.  Still, I chased it for
almost three blocks, until it got too far away to see.
     I waited every day at the park for the next week and a
half, until I simply HAD to go looking for work again.
After that, I tried asking everybody I met there if anybody
knew who they were.  It seems they had just vanished.  Of
course, I figure they probably were just a family visiting
the area ... for a day, week, or month; and had just
happened  to stop in at THAT park for some recreation.  I
came back there almost every weekend for over a year; until
finally my job took me out of the area completely.
     It was only after I knew they were gone, that I
realized the little girl had stolen my heart in the few
short minutes we were together.  Whether she took my child
with her in her tummy like she wanted, I'll never know.  I
hope so ....
     On the other hand, I'd hate for the little girl to have
been saddled with a child she didn't want.  She DID so seem
to want it though.  <Sigh.>
     I never fell in love with another girl.  The memory of
the child's sweet perfection always spoiled me for any other
woman I met.  Her, "Thanks for the baby," will be in my ears
and mind when they lay me in the grave.  I never had real
sex again, either.  Oh, I TRIED several times; but Jenny's
childlike perfection just spoiled me for other women.  Every
time I'd try, I'd wilt.  And no (evidence to the contrary)
I'm NOT the kind of guy to hang around playgrounds, looking
for little girls to molest.  Besides, almost all little
girls seemed so immature, compared to Jenny.  One time in my
life I had sex.  One idyllic perfect time, with the most
wonderful of all possible partners.  How could I torture
myself with anything less?
     Years later, when I finally got to be fairly well-to-
do, I tried hiring several private investigators to try and
find out who she was, and at the very least, how she was
doing.  If she turned out to be fat, happy, with a husband
and ten kids, then I would have been happy for her.  Maybe
if I had found that out, I could have gone on to love
somebody else.  Maybe.  My worry was that Jenny was
somewhere, alone, with a baby, and nobody to help her in her
misery.  I ached for years; and still do to some extent,
that I wasn't there to help her and the baby out.  This
story I guess, is my last hope.  It's way too late to do
anything now to fix what I did; but if somehow she or
somebody in her family recognizes anybody in the story, then
I hope they'll be kind enough to let her know.  It's my last
hope to apologize.  In my mind I still call her Jenny.  I
never knew her real name.  Worse yet, she never knew mine;
because I was too much an idiot, and too frightened to tell
her.  Twenty-six year old men just do NOT fall in love with
eight year old little girls.  Only to my shame, dismay, and
profound regret I did.  I did, and I still am.  Twenty short
minutes, and I was lost forever.  Perhaps my memory is
failing.  Everything else is.  Perhaps this all really never
happened; or didn't happen the way I think I remember it.
Perhaps you're just a little girl I saw once in a park, and
had fantasies about; and I never did even kiss you, let
alone get in your nonexistent little panties.  Perhaps it's
just my imagination.  But if so, then the world is an
incredibly poorer place for your not existing; and I've been
in love with a fantasy for all these years.  I just don't
believe that.  It would be too cruel; and the world has been
cruel enough, keeping me away from you for all these years.
Why didn't anybody TELL me being in love could hurt like a
knife in the gut?
     
     Jenny, I love you.  I did, from the moment you first
giggled and asked me to put my baby inside your belly.
Strange method of proposing I think; but I treasure it
anyway. I loved you then, I love you now, I always will.
Please forgive an old idiot for not telling you when you
needed him, and he had the chance.  I'll never forgive
myself; but still live with the hope that someday you might
live to see this story and forgive me for being such an
idiot.
     
     The universe isn't really kind to idiots.
     I miss her.  I miss her every day; but mostly at night.
     I probably won't live out the year.  The doctor says
the tumor is inoperable.  That's why I'm writing this now.
I don't have much longer to look for her.  The world gets
darker every day.
     
     In my mind I still call her Jenny.  I never knew her
real name.
