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                       The Donut Shop
                         An Erotic Story

     I can't mention the name of the Donut Shop, for "trademark" 
reasons; and the fact that the owners of the chain might object 
to my using their name in a story like this.  Suffice to say that 
it's a national chain; and the most noticeable feature of their 
sign is pink.  For now, I'll just call it the Donut Shop.  
Besides, I don't want to suggest that the owners of the chain 
would ever endorse such activities going on in one of their 
stores (restaurants?).  I'm also not mentioning the town this 
happened in, or even the town I live in, other than it's 
somewhere in the Midwest, and the store was about a block south 
of the freeway.  Besides, the store burned down about a year ago, 
and there's no sign that it's ever going to be rebuilt . . . at 
least not as a Donut Shop anyway; though I always keep hoping.
     My wife and I used to stop in the store regularly when going 
shopping; before they built the new mall closer, and all the big 
chain stores started up nearby.  Back then we'd go shopping, and 
stop in on the way down (or the way back) and have a donut and 
coffee.  Sometimes we'd pick up extra coffee-beans from the 
store, as they have the best coffee anywhere (or did, anyway).
     This time I was driving alone, when I decided to stop in and 
get a hot cup, and pick up a big box of donut-holes for the guys 
down at work.  I often do this when I stop in the Donut Shop, 
when the next day is a workday, and I feel like building up some 
moral, or making a few extra points . . . or just because I feel 
like it.  I like donut holes myself during break; and they don't 
cost that much more to pick up a whole box, than just a few.
     I like to savor my coffee, not rush it (cream, and 4 slips 
of sugar), so I did my usual "look around" at the scenery.
     Scenery . . . you know . . . pretty things, like cute kids, 
pretty women, and sexy young girls who've just learned to flaunt 
what they have.  As I've told my wife, "If I stop looking, you 
might as well shoot me, because I'll be dead . . . I just won't 
know it."  It's mostly pretty girls that get me, though cute kids 
and really handsome guys might draw a second look.
     Only there always seem to be so many more good looking girls 
than men.  Still, cute kids and sexy young girls draw most of my 
attention.  Babies too.  Even so, I try NOT to be obtrusive about 
my looking.  Some girls don't like strange men staring at their 
bodies; while others glory in it . . . you could usually tell 
which type a girl was, by what type of clothes she was 
wearing . . . but not always.  Sometimes a girl just dressed sexy 
for ONE guy alone.
     I had barely seated myself, before I started looking . . . 
casually, over the newspaper, to not offend the more sensitive 
types.  I'm a creampuff . . . I don't even like to hurt people's 
feelings; let alone physically.  As a rapist I'd be a complete 
dud; as the mere thought I might be hurting somebody makes my 
prick wilt like a marshmallow in a campfire.






                                1


     Still, quite often sexy girls DID like to be looked at . . . 
even enjoying the gaze of 50+ men like me . . . as long as I 
didn't make any funny passes, anyway.  Occasionally, I would even 
get a smile in return; as some sexy young thing basked in my 
gaze.  But that was as far as it ever went; as I wasn't about to 
even try to seduce any of these young angels.  I knew better.
     Kids and babies however, were fair game for making friends.  
I love kids . . . I always have.  I loved having a child and 
raising it until my wife and I were suddenly all alone 
again . . . hoping for grandchildren.  In the meantime, nobody 
ever objected to your telling them they had a beautiful baby and 
admiring it . . . even if you couldn't touch.  Still, too see a 
baby or toddler grin back at you when you smiled, is always 
enough to warm the day, no matter how miserable it had been 
otherwise.
     Kids (here I mean about three to twelve year olds) on the 
other hand, are the main joy in my life.  While a sexy young 
woman or girl smiling at me gives me an instant hard-on, and the 
thought of what I would like to do with one of those cute little 
sexpots has given me many wet dreams; it's all fantasy.  
Children, on the other hand, can give me almost as much pleasure 
just by being around me.  If the kids deign to include me in 
their games . . . well I'd rather have fun with a bunch of kids 
who like me, than sex.  Honest.
     No, my wife is NOT a "cold fish" who only gives me sex once 
a month.  After over 30 years together, we still have wonderful 
sex; and I probably get more sex from her NOW, than I did when we 
first got married, believe it or not.  That just goes to show 
what loving can do for a relationship, if you work at it.  No, 
it's just that I LOVE kids.  I love to be around them.  I love to 
hear them giggle.  I love to watch them.  I like to help them 
when I can, and watch them learn without my help when they don't 
need it.  And no, except for a few wet dreams I don't have 
control over, I never really thought of having sex with them.  
And if I HAD daydreamed about sex with children of any age, it 
would have been the older girls . . . in the range of ten to 
fourteen, where they're still children, but have reached puberty 
enough to enjoy sex and yes . . . even get pregnant.  Getting a 
woman or even a girl pregnant excites me (I TOLD you I liked 
babies).  Lately I had been using the computer to download sexy 
stories about pregnancy and kids . . . which had led me to some 
unbelievably erotic stories about women and girls, and even young 
kids who not only liked sex, but liked the idea of getting 
pregnant as well.
     As I said, almost unbelievable stories . . . but sexy as 
heck.  I found it hard to believe that girls as young as those in 
the stories were even interested in sex; so some of the stories 
were a little hard to buy.  However, it DID wake me up to the 
possibility; which I might have missed otherwise.
     I had barely sat down, when I noticed two of the cutest 
little girls I had seen in many a long year, sitting in the booth 
right across from me.  My grin at the two beautiful brunettes was 
returned with interest; and the older poked their mother in the 
ribs, just in time to catch my smile at her two exuberant 
offspring.


                                2


     "Three and Seven?" I hazarded a guess.
     The woman, while not as puppy-friendly as her two kids, did 
NOT give me the cold stare; but instead returned a warm smile and 
replied, "No.  Four and six."
     I found it hard to believe that the older girl was that 
young; as the short black little micro-mini the girl wore didn't 
even reach to the bottom of her tight little panties!  Oh it 
wasn't blatantly obvious; because the panties and the short 
little skirt were a matching black velvet material that blended 
together.  It was only if you were looking carefully that you 
could see the indent the child's cunny made in the material . . . 
even when she stood up.
     Hurriedly I switched my eyes to the younger girl, before the 
child's mother realized where I was staring.  This it seems, was 
even worse.  The 4-year-old had a matching outfit to her older 
sister; and I swear the child's skirt was cut almost a half-inch 
shorter!  It was less obvious on the smaller girl, in spite of 
this.  I was sweating, as I raised my eyes to the grinning face 
of the older woman.  (Woman?  The "woman" must have been barely 
legal herself; possibly 19 at the oldest; and possibly as young 
as 16 . . . impossible with a 6 year old child though.)
     "I think Mr . . . ?" started the woman.  (What else can I 
call her, with two children like that?)
     "Charlie," I said; holding out my hand, "Charlie Mansfield.  
Just call me Charlie."  I don't know WHAT possessed me to lie 
about my name, for the first time in . . . you know . . . I don't 
think I've EVER lied before about who I am.  Even on the computer 
I use my real name, instead of some fake alias.
     "I think Charlie here likes your outfits," she said.
     "Really?" said the younger girl; holding her hands high 
above her head and twirling so I got not just a flash of panty, 
but full exposure clear up to the soft white skin above it.  
Sadly the skirt flopped down before I saw the child's navel (I 
have a thing about navels).
     I could barely nod; my grin being frozen at the thought of 
what other people (especially her mother) might think of me 
staring at her little girl's charms like that.
     "Mine too?" asked the older girl; holding HER arms up and 
executing a pirouette gracefully.  This time I DID get a glimpse 
of little-girl-navel before the short little skirt flapped back 
down.  Oh God.
     For the second time in my life, I found myself with a hard-
on caused by a little girl.  (The first time was when my 
grandniece sat on my lap and kissed me . . . I don't think the 
little girl ever did know how happy she made her horny uncle that 
day.  And I would never tell her.)
     I couldn't have taken my eyes off her when she did that, if 
I had a gun pointed at my head.  Once again I nodded carefully 
before raising my eyes to the girl's mother; apologies ready to 
burst from my lips if she looked the slightest bit offended.  All 
I got was an even bigger grin.






                                3


     I looked guiltily around; wondering who else was observing 
this show.  Nobody.  Even the clerk had vanished into the other 
room, where thumping sounds and the delicious smell of rising 
yeast indicated he was probably involved in making yet another 
batch of donuts; and wouldn't be out unless the door chime went 
off, or we called for him.  Outside I knew that nobody could see 
inside clearly through the blinds; while we could see any car 
pull up for minutes before anybody would come inside.  The 
display it seems, was for me alone.
     "Girls," said the woman, "Uncle Charlie seems to like your 
outfits . . . why don't you let him look at them closer up?"
     I had barely gotten over my "upgrade" to "Uncle" when the 
next thing I knew, two giggling little girls had joined me in the 
(now) crowded little booth, where I was almost forced to grab 
hold of them in self-defense.  I almost died of heart failure 
right then!  The feel of smooth soft little-girl flesh against my 
hand, as my left hand almost involuntarily slid under the 6-year-
old's tiny little skirt, and around her waist, was almost too 
incredibly erotic to believe!  Up to now, my sexy dreams had 
always been of WOMEN . . . well, OK, girls, starting at about 23 
or so, up to about 30.  From now on however, I knew any wet 
dreams I had would always have a chance of having tiny little 
girls with tight little slits and smooth tummies, as well as 
mature women with bouncing beautiful breasts, gorgeous asses, and 
legs . . . .
     Thinking of legs!  I almost yanked my hand as if it was 
burned from between the bare legs of the younger girl who was 
sitting beside me; watching her older sister showing off the 
outfit her mother had made.
     "See, I don't have much in breasts yet, though I'm getting 
some," said the little girl apologetically, while pulling the 
short top out to demonstrate, "so Momma put some padding in here 
to help."
     While her older sister pulled out the front of the blouse; 
actually unbuttoning two buttons to show me the inside and her 
bare chest with just the tiniest hint of swelling, the younger 
girl had taken my other hand and placed it firmly back between 
her legs . . . only higher this time; so the heel of my palm was 
almost pressed into the velvet of her panties . . . almost.
     I couldn't help myself.  To the girl's obvious 
disappointment, I took that same hand and pulled it out again, 
before sliding it in again about a half-inch higher.  THIS time 
the heel of my hand was pressed firmly into the warm damp crease 
of the child's sex; where I started rubbing up and down; the 
whole time paying close attention to the other girl, whose body 
hid what was happening to her little sister from their mother.
     "The skirt can fasten down here," explained the girl; 
showing me a Velcro strip matching a similar one on the panties.  
"Or we can let them ride up . . . If we like the look of the 
guy."  I couldn't believe it.  These two little preschoolers were 
actually trying to seduce me!  (And succeeding quite well, I 
might add.)





                                4


     I had to ask.  "What if you REALLY like the guy?" I asked; 
looking pointedly down at the short little skirt.  By now, I 
almost ignored the girls' mother; figuring rightly that if she 
had anything to say, or any objections to what I was doing, she'd 
let me know.
     "Then we can either take the skirt or the panties completely 
off," said the younger girl.  "Momma won't let us take both off 
though . . . at least not out here."
     "We have to keep the skirts WAY down when we take the 
panties off though," added her older sister.  "Would you like to 
see that?"
     Would I like seeing that?  Is the Pope Catholic?  Does a 
bear shit in the woods?  Does a marble roll down hill?  Do mink 
fuck?
     I was about to give SOME kind of reply . . . whether of 
agreement; or a scared break for the car before I did something I 
would regret, when the door went DING, and somebody entered.  How 
much he saw of me feeling up the little 4-year-old, while peering 
into the blouse of her older sister, I'll never know; but by the 
time he paid for his donuts and left, both little girls were 
demurely seated beside their mother, as if teasing a poor old man 
like me with their budding sexual charms was the farthest thing 
from the minds of any one of them.
     As the customer left, one of the girls whispered something 
in their mother's ear.
     "Really?" she responded.  "You're sure?  It can't wait?"
     "No Momma . . . I need to, right NOW.  She does too." the 
older girl said; looking pointedly at her little sister.
     "You're SURE it can't wait until we get home?"
     "Please, Momma?" the 4-year old responded.
     The woman looked at me rather quizzically.  "Uh . . . 
Charlie?" she asked, "Could you do me a big favor?  The girls 
need to use the restroom; and I'm slightly handicapped.  Could 
you do me a favor by taking the girls in there and helping them 
out?  I'd really appreciate it."
     At THIS point, I should have just shown the girls where the 
restroom was, and left in a hurry; knowing full well that even 
four-year-olds can get in and out of a public restroom 
unaided . . . but I didn't.
     "They're scared some stranger will come in, while they're in 
there," she explained.  Both little girls nodded gravely.  "So 
I'll keep a watch on out here, while you 'do your thing' in 
there," she said.
     I just HAD to know for sure.  "What if I have to go too?" I 
asked.
     "Then go," she replied.  "The girls have seen a man's thing 
before; so don't worry about anything shocking them."
     Talk about a "green light."  This was a "fucking green 
light" if I ever heard one.  "Just be careful," she added.  "As I 
said, the older girl is almost seven, and her little sister is 
only four.  You take good care of them . . . I'm trusting you, 
because they like you."
     I nodded.  I could no more hurt those two little girls, than 
I could cut off my own arm with a table-knife.
     "How long do I have?" I whispered.


                                5


     "Fifteen minutes . . . not one second longer, or I'm calling 
the cops," she whispered back.
     "If you're SURE this is what you want?" I asked; giving the 
woman one last time to back out.
     "They're sure," she said; looking at the two eager faces 
waiting for me by the hall where the restrooms were.  "They need 
to use the restroom BAD."
     My last chance to "chicken out" was when I reached the 
restroom door and found the men's with a sign, "Closed for 
maintenance" and the women's with a similar paper slip over the 
sign "Women" saying "Unisex, until repairs are completed.  Sorry 
for the inconvenience."
     I pushed open the door.  One stool, and no separate stall 
for the stool.  Just one room.
     Both girls excitedly pulled me inside before I could object.  
We had barely gotten inside, when I heard the door "click" and 
realized the older girl had locked the entrance behind us.  I was 
supposed to be protecting THEM?
     "I'm first," said the 6-year old; heading for the stool.
     "Hey!" exclaimed her younger sister.  "You ALWAYS go first.  
I wanted to this time . . . after all he . . . ." the little 
girl's voice trailed off as the older girl gave her a glare 
before skinning out of the thin little blouse.  Seconds later she 
was pulling both panties and skirt off with one motion; and 
settling herself on the seat.  "OOooooh, I needed that," she 
moaned; reaching down between her legs and rubbing hard.  "God 
I'm so horny."
     I watched in amazement as the 6-year-old masturbated 
unashamedly in front of me; while her little sister quietly 
slipped out of HER clothes and came back to snuggle into the arm 
I almost unconsciously held out for her.
     The sensuously smooth skin against my arm was almost 
shocking in it's exhilarating yet earthy feel.  For the first 
time in years I almost felt like cumming in my pants.
     "Aren't you going to get undressed too?" asked the little 
girl.  "We don't have too long, and you promised to help."
     "You want me to get undressed?" I asked, to confirm what I 
had just heard.  Here I had just hoped for a feel of little girl 
pussy; not even expecting to get the chance to taste them like I 
had been dreaming of; figuring that the sight of a full grown man 
with a tumescent prick might scare the little girls; thinking I 
might try to put it inside one of them.  Now, it looked at the 
very least as if I was going to get a hand-job; and if REALLY 
lucky maybe even a blow-job from the older girl.  The 4-year-old 
was obviously too young.  Heck, her big sister was obviously too 
young.
     "Uhuh.  How else are we going to fuck, if you don't?" she 
asked; looking up at me with that expectant look that only little 
kids can beg with.
     I was half undressed myself, by the time the child's words 
sank in.  Fuck them?  She couldn't mean that.  Suck them, 
perhaps.
     "You want me to suck your sister off?" I asked; wondering if 
I was stupid or merely hard of hearing.
     "Please . . . she needs it."


                                6


     It was obvious what the little girl meant.  The older girl 
was straining on the chair; rubbing herself frantically; but not 
seeming to be getting the relief she wanted.  I glanced at my 
watch.  Five minutes gone already.  Well, fucking a preschooler 
might be somebody's wet dream, but not mine.  However, SUCKING 
one off, is an entirely different matter.  No worries about 
virginities, pregnancy, hurting the girl, or even grossing her 
out by pumping gooey sperm and making a big mess.  The floor was 
hard, but I didn't care.  Ten seconds later I was between the 
little girl's legs; and for the first time in my life my tongue 
was approaching the tight little slit of a preschooler.
     While I doubt intensely that the child was a virgin, the 
taste of pre-teen pussy is NOTHING like that of older girls.  
While I like going down on my wife, just because I love her; and 
enjoy eating pussy of younger women just for the pleasure of 
feeling them climax; little-girl pussy is not only erotic and fun 
to eat, it's delicious!  I could eat little girls for hours, if 
given the chance.  Up to now, I'd never BEEN given the chance; so 
I hadn't known what I was missing.  After that day, I'll never be 
able to look at a little girl without wondering what she tastes 
like.  I guess I am a pervert/pedophile after all.
     With her previous excitement, it wouldn't have taken the 
little girl more than a minute to climax . . . if she hadn't been 
interrupted by my almost biting her, when I felt an unexpected 
warm wet feeling lower down.  I pulled away just in time to see 
my prick vanish into the sucking young mouth of the 4-year-old, 
as the sensation of little-girl mouth on my swollen prick hit me 
like a bombshell.  I ALMOST squirted every drop I had in the 
little kid's mouth.
     "Don't mind her, she's always like that," the older girl 
said; pointedly pulling my face back into her crotch.  It was 
that, that saved me.
     Paying attention to licking the incredibly sweet little 
cunny in front of my face kept me from squirting sperm all over 
the inside of her little sister's.  About a minute later the kid 
climaxed; stuffing her fist in her mouth to keep from screaming 
in ecstasy.  Previous to this, I hadn't really believed that kids 
younger than 10 years old COULD climax; assuming that girls that 
young just enjoyed the pleasures of having their genitals 
stimulated without orgasm.  Boy was I wrong!
     "Please?" she moaned; pulling my face away when it became 
too intense.  "Please?" she repeated; pulling me up higher.  Her 
little sister followed my body; her mouth fastened to my prick 
like a leech.  The little girl couldn't get all of my prick 
inside her mouth; but what she had there was in heaven.
     "Huh?" was the most intelligent thing I could get out.
     "Fuck me," she said.  Hearing this, her little sister pulled 
her mouth off my spit-covered prick, and started aiming it at the 
older girl's crotch.
     I didn't believe it . . . this sort of thing just does NOT 
happen . . . but I did it anyway.  Sliding forward until the pre-
cum dribbling head of my by-now-swollen penis was rubbing in the 
slight cleft of the little girl, I asked once, "Are you sure?" 
before sliding forward.



                                7


     "Please," whimpered the little girl again; pushing back at 
me.
     It was tight.  It was wet.  It was as erotic as hell.  I 
felt an incredibly tight ring surround my prick and slowly sink 
to the base; as we both watched the six-inch cylinder slowly 
slide into the little girl's belly.  God, did that feel good!  In 
- out.  I couldn't believe I was actually fucking a 6 year old 
little girl, but I was.  All but an inch of thick fat prick would 
slide into the little girl, before I felt the hard knob of her 
cervix poking at the head.  It was THIS hard poking that kept me 
from coming though.  It was obvious that for all her tender age, 
the girl was NOT a virgin . . . far from it, in fact.  I knew 
that if I tried, I could get ALL of my prick in the little 
girl . . . but why make her uncomfortable?  I slid in and out; 
just enjoying the sensation; not worried if I came inside her or 
not.  If I did, I did.  I certainly didn't have to worry about 
her getting pregnant.  If not, then just feeling the tight little 
tube of the child milking on my prick; while a tight ring around 
the base almost stripped my sperm up inside her felt good enough 
to me anyway . . . even if I never did cum inside her, I was 
happy.  Only the girls didn't seem to think that way.
     'We've got to hurry up," said one of them (I think the 
younger one).  "Momma is going to be getting worried pretty 
soon."
     I looked at my watch.  She was right . . . 12 minutes gone 
already.  "It's all right," I said; pulling my swollen member out 
of the child.  "I don't need to cum THAT bad."
     "No it's NOT," fiercely hissed the older girl; pulling away 
from me.  The hot wet heat of her cunny, even pulling off, felt 
incredibly good.  "You were nice to US . . . It's not fair if you 
don't get to cum too!  Now you fuck my little sister . . . she's 
a lot tighter inside, so you shouldn't take so long, OK?"
     Oh God.  I don't remember agreeing to that; and unlike her 
older sister, I don't remember ASKING the 4-year-old if it was 
all right for me to stick my prick inside her body; but somehow 
not a minute later I felt an almost painfully tight ring sliding 
down over my prick, while all three of us watched the swollen 
member slowly inch it's way into the belly of the younger girl.
     If it was hot and sexy and nasty to first suck and then 
actually fuck a 6-year-old little girl, what can I say about how 
erotic and nasty it was to slide my prick in the belly of a girl 
at least two years younger?
     I had barely made two strokes into the child; and was just 
feeling the first tingle of orgasm in the tip of my prick; when a 
quiet rap on the door, and a quiet, "One minute," told us the 
girls' mother was starting to get worried.
     I couldn't do anything.  I couldn't stop fucking; and I 
certainly couldn't stop the explosion of seed I felt rippling 
through the base of my prick before spitting violently into the 
belly of the sexiest little girl in the whole wide world. I 
certainly couldn't stop what the older girl did, at her mother's 
interruption.
     Opening the door with the handle (the latch clicking open), 
the six-year-old stared defiantly up at her mother; hands on 
hips, and unabashedly naked.


                                8


     "Mother!" she said firmly (after carefully looking around 
the older woman to see that nobody else was there), "that's not 
fair!  He just got in sin . . . He just got inside her, and it's 
not fair to make him stop NOW."
     The girls' mother looked past her naked offspring at where 
her younger daughter was copulating with the man they had just 
met in the last hour.  By this time I was feeling the last 
satisfying surge of seed ripple through my prick and into the 
tight little sleeve of the youngster; laying myself open to the 
biggest charge of statutory rape the state had ever seen.
     "Uh . . . It's OK," I demurred; my prick wilting at being 
caught in the little girl . . . and also because I HAD finally 
had a climax of my own.
     "No, it's NOT," insisted the girl in the doorway.  "Mom?"
     The woman looked at me, where I was still oozing sperm into 
her little girl's belly, then at the older offspring.  Finally 
she gave a shrug, me a twinkle, her daughter a quick peck, and 
closed the door.  "Five minutes," she said.  It was obvious that 
THIS time-limit would not be extended.
     "You can cum in her now," she said; turning back from the 
door . . . as if it would even be possible after an interruption 
like that.
     Her little sister just lay panting underneath me.  I guess 
the stimulation of being felt up, sucking a man, watching her big 
sister get fucked, and then getting fucked herself was quite 
exciting, even for such a young child.
     Which meant I had one last job to do.  "Did," I said 
laconically, as I pulled out of her little sister.  There was 
little doubt about what it was that I "did" as thick greasy gobs 
of white cum followed my prick out.  Not bothering to allow 
myself even THINK of the fact I was tasting my own sperm, I knelt 
between the child's legs and started licking her as thoroughly as 
I had her big sister.  Once again the lie about little girls not 
having orgasms was proved; as not more than a few seconds after 
objecting, "Oh . . . you don't have to do that . . . it's MESSY 
in there . . . I . . . I . . . Oh God that feel . . . " the older 
girl had to grab my shirt and stuff it in her little sister's 
mouth to stop the rising wail of her little sister's orgasm; 
while she jerked and thrashed, and almost mashed her pelvis 
against my face.  "Ooooh, thank you," she moaned, as she finally 
calmed down.
     "Thank YOU," I replied; hurrying to get dressed.  Her older 
sister was ahead of both of us; slipping into her blouse and 
skirt but leaving off her panties.  Why was shortly obvious as 
she settled down on the seat of the toilet to obviously put it to 
more conventional use.
     The reminder was too much . . . suddenly I had to pee too.  
"Uh . . . could you hurry up a bit," I groaned; holding my balls 
and squeezing my prick.  I had previously needed to go . . . even 
before we entered the restroom.  Only having two cute little 
sluts keep my prick hard for over half an hour had made me 
completely unable to pee; even if I had been inclined to.  Now, 
with the pressure in my prostate relieved, the pressure in my 
bladder was almost overwhelming.  Both girls could tell it too, 
by the way I was acting.


                                9


     "Do it in HER," said the younger girl; pointing to her big 
sister.  At my look of astonishment, the child went on, "She 
won't mind . . . she likes it . . . honest!"
     I couldn't believe it . . . I looked over at the sink as a 
possible substitute, and then at the nodding girl beside me.  
Heck with it.  I turned and offered my prick to the little girl 
sitting on the can.  As I said, I didn't believe it, and I still 
don't; but the girl opened her mouth, leaned forward, and took my 
prick in her mouth.  She did NOT try to "deep throat" it or 
swallow it, like I would have if somebody was going to piss in my 
mouth.  She just pursed her lips around the middle and waited.
     From being ready to piss on the floor, it took me three 
tries before I managed to let go; really expecting the little 
girl to pull back in disgust, or at least probably throw up, as 
she found out that drinking pee was more than she bargained 
for . . . only she didn't.  The 6-year-old just sat there and let 
me pee in her mouth; a sudden blast in the bowl letting me know 
she really HAD to go herself as well.  It was almost as though I 
was pissing through her body; her squirts (once the main blast 
was over) echoing mine almost one for one until I finally pulled 
out.
     It was while I was letting go, that a tap on the door 
announced, "One minute."
     The younger girl went over and unlatched the door, saying, 
"It's OK, Momma, we're almost finished," before heading back so 
she could watch me give final spurt of pee into her big sister's 
mouth before I pulled out.
     The little girl took my prick in HER hand; licked up a last 
drop of pee forming at the tip; said, "Yuck," but didn't spit it 
out either.  With that, it was over.
     The young woman watched blank-faced as I washed my hands, 
and her older daughter pulled her panties on after wiping 
herself.  I barely remembered to zip up, while the girls washed 
THEIR hands.
     Coming out, there were several couples now sitting in 
booths; but nobody seemed to notice the man coming out of the 
restroom with two little girls in tow.  The woman surprised me by 
giving me a hug.  "Thanks for helping my little girls," she said 
in my ear.  "They really needed that."
     "Uh . . . do I? . . . Can I? . . ." I asked; reaching for my 
wallet.
     "I don't know what you're thinking mister, but my little 
girls do NOT do that for money," she whispered fiercely.
     "Hey!  I just wanted to know if I could buy them a donut or 
something," I defended myself.
     The brunette's face cleared.  "Oh . . . sorry," she said.  
"No, the girls have had enough sweets for now.  Girls, thank 
Uncle Charlie, and let's go, OK?"
     With that, first the 4-year-old, and then the 6-year-old 
jumped in my arms and hugged me.  When her turn came, the older 
girl gave me a kiss like preschoolers just aren't supposed to 
know about.  Thankfully, our lips hid the obscene things our 
tongues were doing from the interested gaze of the people 
watching a little girl kiss her favorite uncle good-bye.



                                10


     "You WILL come back?" she asked.  "I like you a lot!"
     I promised; and with a final, "Bye, Uncle Charlie.  Bye, 
Uncle Jake," the family headed out the door; making me wonder 
just what I had gotten myself into . . . besides two VERY illegal 
little girls' panties that is.
     "Uncle Jake huh?" I mused to myself; looking speculatively 
at the young man dusting flour off his hands before serving 
another customer.  The kid was looking at me with almost as much 
interest.
     By the time I gathered up my newspaper and ordered a box of 
holes, the place was almost empty again.  "Did they?" asked the 
boy (man) behind the counter, while handing me my change.  I 
nodded; while looking him over like he was me.  While not as 
burned into my memory as well as the woman and her two kids, I'll 
never forget his face either.  Tall and lanky, with a big zit 
that made you more feel sorry for the kid than disgusted at its 
presence, the teenager (LATE teenager) would have been handsome 
if not for the trials of puberty.  A "nice guy" from the look of 
him.  We both sighed at the memory of what it was that the two 
little girls "did."
     "Do they come in here often?" I asked.
     "Uhuh.  And every time it's like that.  I don't 
often . . . ."  He blushed, then was silent for a second before 
continuing, "Usually three or four times a week; and usually 
about this time.  Sometimes on my shift, and sometimes on one of 
the other guys'.  I never know who they're going to pick."
     "Thanks," I said; hefting the box of donut holes in one 
hand.
     "Come back soon," he said; giving me a last friendly grin.  
I grinned back.  Somehow I knew there would never be any 
competition between us.  The girls chose who THEY wanted to 
choose . . . even their mother had made that clear.  Whistling, I 
headed for the car.  We both knew I WOULD be back soon . . . if 
only for the pleasure of watching somebody else "help" the little 
girls in the restroom.  I grinned to myself; actually PLANNING on 
making myself "unavailable" if somebody else was.  Heck, even the 
clerk looked like he "needed it" far more than I did.  Maybe I 
could watch the place for him next time . . . if there weren't 
any other single male customers in the store.
     It wasn't until I started the car, that I realized I didn't 
know any of their names.  Not even their first names.  The 
closest thing was possibly that the younger girl might be named 
"Cindy" or "Cynthia" or some other name starting with something 
that sounded like "sin".  Even that was speculation.  Heck, I 
later realized that even "Jake" might be more of a nickname, than 
what the kid's real name was . . . or it might be a complete fake 
like "Charlie" too.










                                11


     I never saw any of them again.
     Two weeks later my wife and I were passing through the town; 
and she was agreeable when I mentioned a donut . . . besides, she 
just HAD to look at the place to see the Donut Shop that had 
given me what she thought was such an incredibly erotic dream.
     Only the place had burned down.  Oh, not to the ground, or 
anything; just enough to damage things so they didn't reopen it.  
Though several times I cruised the neighborhood, I never saw any 
of them, their car, or the clerk ever again.  I think it was the 
third time I went "garage sailing" in that neighborhood, that my 
wife finally decided that maybe I wasn't making things up, and it 
really HAD happened.  I swear I think she feels as sorry for me 
at losing any chance to ever again thank those girls for what 
they did for me that day, as I do.  I love my wife.
     If any of you recognize yourselves or me in this story . . . 
write me.  My real name is at the top, and in the trailer.  
"Uncle Charlie" regrets ever using that phony name.  If you girls 
(or even "Uncle Jake") ever read this, I hope you'll forgive me 
for that one small lie.
     No . . . I don't need more sex.  As stated before, I get far 
more than I need from my lovely wife.  But a hug from any of you, 
would ease the ache in my heart for what I feel I lost when that 
Donut Shop burned down.  Even an anonymous note that you are all 
OK, would make me feel immeasurably better.  Somehow, in some 
way, in that bare half hour I knew you, I fell in love all over 
again; loving each of you like I love my wife.  Some people may 
think I'm just horny; but sex almost doesn't come into what I 
feel.  I wonder where you girls are now, and how you're doing.  
Are you all happy?  It makes me miserable worrying that you might 
not be.  For sure, in spite of the way society thinks about such 
things, I doubt very much if you're "sexually abused."  On the 
other hand, if you ARE ever in need, in any way, and you read 
this, remember that "Uncle Charlie" is always ready to help, in 
any way he can.  If you need a hand, need money, or just need a 
shoulder to cry on, both me and my wife will always be willing to 
help.  Thanks girls, all three of you, from the bottom of my 
heart.




















                                12
