Zucotti Park Princess

[ Mg, cons, rom ]


Published: 23-Aug-2012

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This work is Copyrighted to the author. All people and events in this story are entirely fictitious.

I had just won the biggest case of my career. Dominick Donato, the infamous head of the Donato crime syndicate in lower Manhattan had been charged with several counts of racketeering, mostly involving identity theft. Sure, there were still the occasional assaults and even a murder of two, but for the most part, the Donatos turned their energy toward white collar crime. His family were master forgers who cranked out tens of thousands of phony documents like birth certificates, driver's licenses and wedding certificates to steal identities and drain others' bank accounts.

Federal District Judge Jocelyn Pinkney was incensed with the jury's verdict. The evidence against Dominick was overwhelming. Even the Assistant U.S. Attorney, that cocky sonovabitch, was brimming with confidence seconds before the verdict was read. His face became white and pasty when the foreman said, "Not guilty." I loved seeing his hands shake when those two words exploded like a pipe bomb in the court room.

The trick? Between the Donatos and me, we had half the jury in our pocket one week into the trial, and the rest came soon thereafter. Dominick's people convinced most of them that a guilty verdict would be...let's just say...a health hazard. But Juror Number Eight was all mine. That hot, sexy MILF needed some cock, and my eight inch prick was just the thing to adjust her attitude. I had been fucking her almost daily for the last three months, and when Judge Pinkney slammed her gavel to dismiss the court, leaving no doubt she was pissed off, I gave my sweetie a secret grin. She parted her legs to give me one last peek of her shaved married cunt. Fuck, she was hot!

Having politely refused dinner with the "family," I headed home on foot in my Yves Saint Laurent silk suit, all $2,500 of it courtesy of the Donatos. I was horny as fuck, and now that I had discarded my jury slut, I thought I'd grab some dinner before invading the clubs for some well-deserved pussy.

The October air was crisp and sharp as I approached the Occupy Wall Street encampment at Zucotti Park. I ordinarily would avoid the place and all the filth and shit these dirt bags lived in, but tonight I decided to rub a little of my wealth in the faces of these fucked-up hippie wannabees. Although my family came from Sicily in the 1920s, I always felt I had a little Irish in me. I was itching for a wee bit of a donnybrook.

"Hey, you fuckin' rich prick! You're the reason our world is fucked up!" some little dick-faced punk shouted at me.

I grinned at the pockmarked dumbass as I approached. He was a twenty-something kid with Rastafarian dreadlocks that looked ridiculous on a skinny white guy. He shook his sign as I got nearer. I slowly read it out loud.

"We're.....The.....99%.....And.....We.....Demand.....Economic.....Justice!" I said, mockingly. "Hey, shit-for-brains, here's a novel idea...GET A FRIGGIN' JOB!"

He threw down his sign and came right up to me, along with two other low-life protestors.

"Hey, old man. We're gonna kick your ass and take your cash!" one of the three shouted.

I smirked, and before any of them could react, I threw six rapid punches in the space of three seconds. Three rights, three lefts, and three men down. Not bad for a forty-six year old man, but then again, I was also a member of the 1988 U.S. Olympic Boxing Team, taking home a Gold Medal.

Suddenly, the very people who spent the last month spitting on cops decided they needed a police response. An NYPD officer on horseback trotted up as the crowd demanded my arrest. I gave him a smile when he tipped his helmet toward me. He looked down at me from his six-foot-high perch.

"Matteo, these people are claiming you assaulted these three men, is that true?"

I knew he had seen the whole thing, but considering I had him and half the NYPD in my back pocket, I decided to play along.

"Now, Vince, I didn't hit anybody. I tried to stop them from stumbling and falling. If anything, I was just being a Good Samaritan. They look drunk to me."

The small band of OWS knuckleheads started to grumble about the "police corruption." Vince just scoffed at them.

"I think this upstart member of our community is correct, ladies and gentlemen. These guys look like they are publicly intoxicated," he laughed as he radioed for a patrol response to take the three drunks to the station for booking.

"Thanks, Vince," I winked as I started to turn away.

"Always a pleasure, Matteo," he snickered, "and please pass along my greetings to your father, Mr. Pellegrino."

No one gave me any more crap as I walked through the gauntlet of maggot-encrusted zombies. When I cleared the other side of the park, I spotted a young street urchin sitting on the sidewalk next to a bench. She had a white, Styrofoam cup in her hand, clearly begging. She didn't seem to fit in with the rest of these pieces of shit, other than the fact that she was filthy and dressed in rags. I couldn't tell how old she was, maybe ten or eleven, and she struck me as Italian, perhaps Puerto-Rican. Her hair was matted and stringy, a mop of black strands that hadn't been washed in months. I felt sorry for her, and figured she was a runaway or a homeless kid.

I was within five paces of her, but she never looked up to me. As I neared, I heard a soft voice come from under the curtains of hair.

"Please, mister. Can you give me some money?"

Her tiny brown hand held the cup forward, but she still hadn't made eye contact with me. I stopped and reached into my pants pocket and retrieved my money clip. I usually carried a few thousand around with me, so I peeled off a couple of twenties, rolled them together and placed them in the cup. She pulled it under her hair veil and peeked inside. I could see her shudder at the generosity.

She looked up at me with the most beautiful pair of hazel eyes and whispered, "Thanks."

Her face was angelic despite the layers of dirt and street grime that seemed to paint her skin. Somewhere down through the film of filth, I saw pinkish skin, near her eyes, and I realized she wasn't ethnic at all. My heart jumped, I felt so bad for her.

"When was the last time you had a meal?" I said, squatting down near her.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Long time, mister."

"Come with me. I'll get you a hot meal, some clean clothes, and then we can sort out how to get you some help."

She shook her head no.

"Look, you really shouldn't be on the street, especially not with these people. It's not safe, honey."

"I saw what you did to those men," she whispered, again looking down.

"Yeah, bunch of jerks. They could hurt a young girl like you. Come on. I won't harm you, I promise."

She looked up again, her eyes had a slight shine in them, a glimmer of promise and hope.

"You swear?"

Her sundress was torn, tattered, dirty, and with winter fast approaching, insufficient to keep her alive. I felt like one more night in the cold park, and that girl might not make it. I had to convince her to come with me in order to save her.

"Cross my heart," I grinned, making the X mark on my chest.

She tentatively reached out her hand so I could help her up. She tucked the money from her cup into a small pocket on her dress as we started to walk along.

"My name's Matteo, but you can call me Matt. Who are you, sweetie? Where are your parents?"

"Taylor. I lost my mommy and daddy last spring. They got drunk and died, and I don't got nobody to take care of me."

"I'm so sorry, sweetie. I'll make sure you get some help."

Hell, I had no idea what to say to someone in this situation, but from the moment I saw her, she plucked at my heart. Being the consigliore to a crime family requires a pretty tough guy, which I am, so this was unlike me to get all mushy and soft. But seeing her brought back memories of my wife and the daughter we almost had. Sophia was killed by a drunk driver ten years ago. She was nine months pregnant, and the crash killed our unborn daughter, Susanna.

I learned a little more about Taylor as we walked. She was ten years old and from New Jersey, but she and her parents had been homeless for years. She hadn't been to school in a long time, let alone lived in anything but a car or under piles of dirty rags in alleys.

We neared my apartment on Nassau Street when it occurred to me how odd we must look to others. Here I was, a well-heeled man in an expensive business suit, walking hand-in-hand with a homeless preteen. I thought it best to avoid the doorman and the million questions he'd have for me. I veered off down an alley so we could take the back entrance and service elevator to my apartment. As far as I could tell, no one saw us.

"Here we go, sweetheart," I smiled as I opened the door to my penthouse condo.

Her eyes lit up like 100 watt bulbs. "This is your house?"

"Yeah, really an apartment, but it's pretty nice, huh?"

She gingerly stepped in and looked around, and it was readily apparent she hadn't been inside anything with this much splendor in her life. I must admit, it was a big place with over 3,000 square feet and commanding views of the East River and lower Manhattan. I had three bedrooms, a luxury master bedroom and bath, a gourmet kitchen, elegant dining room and a large living room with a fireplace. She jumped when I lighted the gas insert.

"How about I start a bath for you while I order some food?"

"Yes! I am so hungry!" she smiled for the first time.

I took her hand and led to the master bath, and when she saw my oversized Jacuzzi tub, she screeched.

"Is that a swimming pool?"

"No, honey," I chuckled, "it's a bathtub." I started the water and made sure she had soap, shampoo and a towel.

She giggled as the tub filled, and when I added some bath soap, she laughed seeing the foamy bubbles fill the surface. When the tub was half full, I started the jets, and she nearly flipped out in excitement.

"I think you can get in now if you want. I don't have any little girl clothes, but I'll get you one of my shirts you can wear tonight."

She tugged my arm as I got ready to turn and leave. Then, with no warning at all, she thrust her arms around me and sobbed, holding me firmly. Her head was tucked into my tight abs.

"Thank you, Matt. Thanks for helping me!"

I caressed her stringy hair for a moment. When I let go, she lifted her sundress over her head with no warning, and with no apparent shame, stood half-naked in front of me. I almost gasped out loud seeing her in just a pair of dirty panties and worn sandals. Her breasts were small mounds of naked flesh, the size of small plums, with nothing but dark pink nipple forming tiny cones on top. They were puffy and delectable, ripe pieces of fruit.

"Um, okay, you had b...b...better get in the bath, honey," I stuttered.

She smiled and began sliding her panties down right as I turned. But for a brief second, I caught sight of her bald pussy mound. My heart raced as I headed out the door.

I placed a call to my favorite deli a block from my building, ordering several items since I had no idea what Taylor would want. I figured she probably would eat the take out boxes themselves at this point, so anything would be perfect for my princess. Zeke's Deli was the best in town, and it was also quick to deliver, so I knew we would be eating soon. When I hung up, I heard Taylor's soft voice singing as she splashed around my tub. Then she called out to me.

"Mr. Matt, can you come help me?"

I cautiously opened the bathroom door and peeked in. Only her head was visible above the suds. Her face was clean and pink, pale actually, and she had a sweet smile with pouty full lips.

"What do you need, pumpkin?" I beamed.

She stood up, letting me see her entire naked body, layers of foam slowly sliding down and revealing more and more of her flesh. My cock throbbed when I took in the sight. I had never been attracted to young girls, but there was something about Taylor I found oddly sexy.

"Can you scrub my back?" she asked, turning to reveal the most perfect ass I have ever seen.

Her butt cheeks were round and firm, and the way she looked over her shoulder at me, with her back arched, was so sensual.

"I suppose so," I said, mesmerized yet tentative.

"Goodie!" she giggled, leaning down to pick up a back scrubber from the other side of the tub.

When she did, her ass hunched up high, letting me see her rosebud asshole and two fat bald pussy lips hanging down obscenely from behind. I let out an audible soft moan.

She stood back up and held the brush behind her for me to retrieve. I knelt by the side of the tub, wanting nothing more at this moment than to run my big , strong hands all over her sexy ten-year-old body, but I kept my cool. I lathered up the brush and began gently scrubbing her back. She was delicate and petite, and her long hair hung down midway on her back. I moved it aside with one hand as I washed her. After I did, I found my free hand roaming. I caressed her side as I moved the bristles along her back. She didn't move, flinch, protest or question me.

I got so lost in my fantasy and fascination about her body, that I must have been scrubbing one spot too long.

She whispered, "You got to move it around!"

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry," I said, nervously.

I started to move the brush in wider circles, but she whispered again.

"Your other hand, too."

My cock jumped in my pants. My heart raced, but before I could react to her request, let alone make sense of it, the doorbell rang.

"Why don't you rinse off in the shower," I said, eyeing the dirty bath water. "Food's here."

I leaned in and kissed her back, eliciting a soft sigh from her. That was as bold as I dared get. She bolted from the tub and ran to the shower, shrieking and giggling about it being cold. I rushed to the door on the second ring, retrieving four large bags of dinner from the young delivery boy.

I set the food out on my dining room table, and even for a man of my means, the spread looked impressive. To my Taylor, I knew it would be a feast. Ten minutes later she came into the dining room wearing one of my long dress shirts, her hair semi-dry and neatly brushed. Her black hair was actually light brown once cleaned and dried. She was stunning. This little ragged street kid was now a young woman, incredibly beautiful and sweet, with ample freckles as a touch of delight.

"Is that dinner?" she gasped, eyes wide and mouth agape.

We feasted that that night, and this little darling who barely spoke a word to me in Zucotti Park, was now an official chatterbox. I also never saw a kid eat so much, that is, in between the rapid-fire bursts of words she spoke. She was hypnotizing to me. I just smiled and listened as she unloaded all about her life and how great it had been until her parents lost their jobs, then their home, then their car. Drink got them both as they struggled to stay alive. One morning, they never woke up. She got sad at that point, understandably so. I reached my hand over and held hers, giving it a squeeze.

"You're safe now, Taylor."

She stood up, threw her arms around my shoulders and hugged me as I sat. It was at least a five minute embrace, and when she finally relaxed her grip, she pulled back and looked me in the eyes. I don't know what compelled me to do this, but I leaned toward her and kissed her on the lips. It was a soft, gentle, quick peck. She smiled. I leaned and kissed her again, this time our lips lingered longer. I could smell and hear her breath and the unmistakable rapidity of arousal.

"Maybe we ought to clean up this mess!" I said, shaking my head to clear my dark thoughts. What the fuck was I doing? She was a preteen, after all!

I began clearing plates and scraps of food. She helped me in silence, but I agonized about what she was thinking. I swore to her that I wouldn't hurt her and now I worried she thought I was a child molester, when I was anything but. But the throbbing in my pants conflicted me so much. I tried to think of anything else at the moment than the one thing my mind wanted to ponder...how hot it would be to fuck that sweet preteen in my big bed tonight. When the dishwasher began humming, I grabbed a bottle of red wine and poured myself a glass. I gave Taylor some cranberry juice in a wine glass and invited her to sit with me in front of the fireplace.

She trotted ahead of me, my big blue dress shirt ten sizes too big for her. She had the sleeves rolled up so adorably, while the hem hung just below her knees. I also knew she was naked under that shirt, and that didn't help settle my thoughts at all.

We sat next to each other on my shaggy white Flokati rug, our backs to the leather sofa. As I sipped my wine, she snuggled up into me. We didn't say a word for a long time, and the only noise in the room came from the fireplace as the faux logs made soft crackling sounds. As Taylor relaxed into my chest, I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close. She sighed softly for a moment.

I ran my hand up and down her arm, gently caressing her. I wasn't sure if I was being too forward or not, but she certainly didn't make any fuss. When I looked down to search her face for some clues, she smiled up at me. Then, she closed her eyes, pursed her lips and tilted up to kiss me. I leaned down slowly, and when our lips touched, my pulse picked up speed. Her breath was sweet and terribly inviting. At the same time, our mouths opened and our tongues began to touch.

Taylor was breathing faster now as we French kissed. My empty wine glass slipped from my fingers and hit the rug. I placed my free hand on the side of her face and held it as we kissed more and more. Her breathing grew deeper, and soft moans came from her throat. I began kissing her all over her face, mouth, lips, neck, ears, and she responded with mews and moans. I slid my right hand down and began to unbutton the shirt she wore, but she stopped me with her hand. Shit, I knew I had just blown it and she was going to call the cops.

Instead, with a big, sensuous grin on her face, she stood and unbuttoned the shirt all by herself. One sexy button at a time, until it opened wide, exposing her bare breasts and bald pussy.

"You are so beautiful, Taylor," I moaned, standing.

I lifted her into my arms and carried her to the master bedroom, gently nibbling her neck along the way. Like a snowball going down a mountain, things were progressing fast now. I knew I was set on a course that would either land me in jail or pole-vault me to heaven.

She had her arms around my neck as I carried her. Taylor returned my mini-hickey, biting down softly behind my ear. I lay her down slowly, pulling my dress shirt off her and examining her tiny frame. She was a sexy vixen, and I noticed her pussy lips seemed fatter than when she bathed, as if they were now swollen and aroused.

I undressed quickly, and when my eight inch cock jumped from my boxers, her eyes grew wide. Precum glazed my big mushroom head. My balls were heavy, full and they hung like two lemons in my sack. I slid over her, on my knees but leaning down to kiss her more. Her hot, hungry mouth was all over my face, kissing and licking me like a cat.

I began to lick and nibble my way south, stopping to enjoy her succulent preteen breasts. I could fit each of her small mounds in my mouth, nipple and breast in each mouthful I took. I have never sucked an entire breast before, but I couldn't get enough of hers. She moaned louder as I made oral love to her. Her puffy nipples responded to my prodding, turning into two hard nubs in my lips. She arched her back and pushed her chest up into me as I worked her breasts for a good twenty minutes.

When I began to kiss lower, I could feel her flat tummy tighten up in anticipation. My tongue teased along her belly button, drawing a few squeaky giggles from the tickling. I went lower still, and she opened her legs for me, the invitation unmistakably loud and clear. I was inches from her bare muffin and I could smell her arousal. It was a light pee scent, with the distinct aroma of sexual excitement. Taylor moaned louder and she hunched her groin up at me, as if to coax my tongue to her tunnel.

She wrapped her fingers in my hair and pulled my face into her warm, moist quim. I have never tasted a sweeter pussy in my life. Her slit was drenched, and when I slid my tongue inside her, the soft pink folds of her sex opened right up. Her clit was already hard and poking up. I made circles around her canal with my lips and tongue, stopping at the twelve-o'clock position on every turn to torment her love button. She grunted and pushed up each time. I did this over and over, dozens of times, amazing myself with the flow of fresh juices from her bald mound. Her fluids trickled down her ass crack.

She began to buck and moan under my face, pushing her pussy up harder. With every stop I made at her little nubbin, I tugged on it just a little more than the last. She went wild. Eventually, my baby doll started to go over the edge.

"Hmmmmph! Ohhhh, Matt! Mmmmmmph. Yes, yes, that feels soooo goooood!"

I mumbled some incoherent nonsense into her pussy, determined not to let up until she came hard.

"Ohhh, I'm so close! I'm gonna cum! Don't stop!" she howled.

I buckled down and tore into her slit with my tongue. She went berserk, spasmed, screamed and gushed her juices all over my face.

"I'm CUMMMMMMMMING!" she groaned over and over, clamping her legs around my head, nearly snapping it off.

This girl came hard and long. She practically galloped away with my head between her legs as her tiny ass bumped around on the bed, dragging me with her. Finally, after five minutes of orgasm, she came down, panting.

When my head was permitted some freedom, I pulled away and looked at her glowing face. I gave her a smile, my face dripping with her nectar. I slid up and began to kiss her again. She softly kissed and licked her own wetness from my flesh, something I found so arousing. When she had every drop cleaned, I realized my cockhead was pulsating against her tunnel. I looked in her eyes, uncertain about my next move, although my body surely knew what it wanted.

"Have you ever...?"

She put a finger to my lips.

"Shhhhhh," she hushed me. Taylor leaned in, put her lips to my ear and whispered, "Make love to me, daddy."

I nearly came at those words. I pushed my cockhead against her quivering pussy hole and eased it in. She was so tight, wet and hot. As I inched my cock into her, she wrapped her feet around my hips and lured me in more. I gave her a deep shove, sinking me entire eight inch cock inside her preteen pussy.

"Ohhhhh! Hmmmph, yessss. It feels so good, Matt," she moaned into my ear.

"You are so sexy, Taylor, so hot," I grunted, beginning to move in and out.

I could not believe this tiny young thing could make love like a grown woman, but as I started thrusting into her, she began pushing up into me. I cradled her in my arms and we rocked together. We kissed with incredible passion and energy all throughout our sex. Her pussy was so welcoming, so eager to have me in her, so wet, warm and soft. She gasped and chirped as we made love, slowly and gently. I was afraid that my size would hurt her, but it seemed my length and thickness only served to hasten her excitement.

"Faster, faster, Matt," she began to grunt at me.

I picked up my pace, sensing her approach to another orgasm. My balls began to hit her ass, smacking them loudly. She gripped my arms tightly in her tiny hands, her nails digging my flesh. I fucked her harder, deeper, faster now seeing she could take it a bit rougher. She began panting hard. We were close, both of us. I felt my balls swelling with buckets of cum at the ready.

"Baby, I'm gonna cum soon too. I don't wanna get you pregnant," I moaned almost ramblingly.

"It's okay....hmmmmmph, just don't stop, Matt!"

Faster and harder, full strokes now. I was convinced I was two inches past her cervix at this point on every down stroke. I couldn't hold off much longer. Our rutting became a blur, our arousal at its peak. She began to arch her back under me, screaming as she dug her nails in even deeper.

"UGGGGGGGHHHHHH!" she cried.

"Here I cum, sweetie. AGHHHHHHHHgggghhh!" I groaned as my balls erupted.

I shot several ropes of hot, thick, potent cum inside this ten-year-old girl's willing pussy. We came as one...hard and long. We rolled together on the sheets, clutching each other as our sex organs exploded into each other. When we began to calm down, I was on my back, my Taylor on top trying to catch her breath.

Sweat dripped from her onto me. Her face was red and flushed, but slowly a grin returned. She leaned down to kiss me, her long hair tickling my face.

"I love you, Matteo," she gushed to me.

"I love you too, Taylor."

I didn't know what I was thinking or saying, but at that moment, it felt right. We held each other and softly kissed for what had to be at least an hour. I caressed her entire body, learning by touch every curve, every crevice, every inch of my new lover. Sometime within that hour or so, we fell asleep in each other's arms.


Sunlight flitted through my curtains, tickling me awake. I rubbed my eyes, sat up and looked at the alarm clock. It was ten o'clock. Had last night been a dream? I looked around and didn't see Taylor, but my bed had all the evidence of sex. The sheets were yanked around and wrinkled, and the smell of pussy filled the room. My cock was limp and red, irritated from the tight tunnel spelunking it has done last night.

I looked down and saw I was covered in a light blue blanket, one I kept in my closet as a spare. I sniffed the air when I detected a faint, familiar smell. Bacon was frying in the kitchen, coffee was brewing, and a little girl's voice was singing softly in the background.

I pattered to my kitchen in a robe, a smile on my face when I saw my angel, her back to me, making breakfast. She had on another of my long shirts as she danced barefoot, happily cooking and singing. I crept up behind her and slid my arms around her waist from behind. She set the frying pan down softly and melted back into my chest and sighed.

I turned her around and was greeted with a huge grin, followed by a kiss on my lips.

"Morning, daddy. I hope you don't mind me making breakfast."

"Mind? I've never seen anything more beautiful in my home than you, Taylor."

We took our plates to the table and sat side-by-side, enjoying the wonderful meal she had prepared to perfection. But as we ate, she slowly grew sad. I knew what was on her mind. Her eighteen hours of happiness were about to end. After all, when I met her at the park I told her I would get her some help once I got her cleaned up and fed.

I got up in silence and grabbed my telephone. She started to sob, but I caressed her arm as I dialed.

"It's going to be okay, honey."

"Please don't send me to one of those foster homes!" she pleaded with me, tears flowing.

I gave her a slight smile when my party picked up.

"Hello, Don Donato. It's Matteo."

Taylor gave me an odd stare as she wiped away her tears.

"Yes, Godfather. You are most welcome for the jury verdict yesterday, but today I need to ask a favor of you. I need some documentation, the usual. Birth certificate, school records, social security, you know."

She was now giving me a skeptical look, clearly not understanding what my call was about.

"Taylor Susanna Pellegrino. That's right, Godfather. My daughter has finally come home."

Taylor jumped from her seat and nearly crushed me with a hug, her tears of joy soaking my robe. I barely managed to tell Dominick Donato good-bye just before the phone fell from my fingertips.

R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s - R e v i e w s


Please, sir, may we have some more? These characters have more story to tell us.

Earl DeVere

This story shows your ignorance of the Occupy movement. This story couldn't have happened in the real world because the activists would have found help for the street urchin.

Making a mob lawyer and a corrupt cop heroes is the most perverted part of this fairy tale.

All of the Occupy activists I know (around 100) are intelligent, well educated people who are seeking justice in this country -- economic and social.

Idiots like you are the problem, OWS is the solution.




Great story, keep it going. Can't wait to read part 2


Wish fulfillment writing comes of as hackneyed and whiny. Also you sound like a complete wimp if your best fantasy is beating up some caricatures and dreaming of a gold medal.


Thanks so much! I like those romantic stories the most!


'Earl DeVere' is an idiot - he doesn't realize this is told from the perspective of a mobster? Of course he thinks a corrupt cop is a good guy, and the 'common' people as being problems! I really enjoyed this story - the setting, the characters, the cuteness - NEED MOAR!


Let 'Earl DeVere' write his own story with his perspective of the OWS movement. I like his writing, too, I'm sure he can give us a nice 99% pure fun jack story. I liked this view of the 1% getting a sweet taste from the 99! Keep it up! With your help I'm sure it won't be hard for me to!

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