Not too long ago I had the opportunity to view one of the films that was made using one of the kids I procured for Nunzio, and I'd have to admit that some of Nunzio's boys had a rare talent for a certain sort of cinema verite', they had an imagination for snuff that even I find enviable.

It's an old film that's been floating the underground for over fifteen years now, apparently a classic in it's genre, now available on videocassette; I got access to a dub of it after the FBI busted a kiddie-porn ring last Fall. It stars this little blonde girl I bagged outside a Krauszer's milk store, in some grimy stinkhole North Jersey town, Paterson maybe, or one of the Oranges, Hackensack perhaps? I don't remember the girl's name, there've been so many of them, but I remember this little chick because against my better judgement, I've still got a polaroid hidden away that I took of her in one of the hotel rooms that I kept the kids in while I was breaking them in before selling them to Nunzio.

In this picture that I have, the girl is squatting on the bed, bare-ass naked, facing the camera, hands tied behind her back, her long straight blond hair is plastered to her sweating face, matted in spots with my cum. There's a sick scared grimace on her face, she's trying to smile, but her eyes are swollen pink from crying, and her legs are splayed wide open, displaying the neck of a huge fucking whiskey bottle buried in her bald little cunt. It looks like a Jack Daniel's bottle, a square peg in a round hole, and even now, as many kids as I've done over the years, this blurry little polaroid from my ancient past has got my cock crawling around in my drawers, sliding down my pant leg as it swells at the memory of the fun I used to have. There are red marks around the girl's flat little tits, I seem to remember biting and chewing at them as I repeatedly raped her, missionary style. The inside of her thighs look red, I can't remember if I'd had a go at them with my belt or not when that picture was taken, but I do recall that I'd fucked her good and hard half-a-dozen times or more by the time I'd needed a rest and started making her pose for the pictures, so the insides of her legs may have just been rubbed raw by the motion of my thighs beteen her legs.

I hardly ever took pictures, I'd always believed it was too dangerous, apparently a good judgement call, considering how easily the guy the FBI popped was convicted. The fool had taken thousands of pictures of himself fucking little girls, it's hard to feel sorry for the stupid bastard; possession of kiddie-porn alone will only get you five, but photographic evidence of yourself engaged in dozens upon dozens of incidents of felony child abuse. The man was a moron.

And yet here I sit, ancient polaroid in hand. Of course, there's no evidence of my role in the picture, the worst I would get for one obviously ancient polaroid of a crying girl with a bottle shoved up her snatch is maybe a couple years, and probably not even that, probably just probation and a few months of court mandated counseling.

It's worth the risk to hang onto this picture, this little girl was special. She was one of the younger ones I bagged, fifth or sixth grade as I recall, that made her around ten or eleven, pre-puberty but old enough to grease up on whatever was jammed in her twat, old enough to jerk out an orgasm or two. She was chunky but not fat, with a plump bald pussy, her hips still narrow, not a hint of distorting breast tissue. She hadn't been a virgin when I got to her, none of them had, I'd remember something as unique as that. I'd come on like a Father fucking Flanagan outside the Krauszer's that night I bagged her and she'd told me, sobbing, that her older brother and his friends had been balling her regularly for about a year, ever since his voice started to change, she said. That's why she was out alone that night, she said, her mother had gone out on a date and whenever her mother was gone for more than an hour, her brother invited friends over and forced her to pull a train. She thought it was safer out on the street.

Lucky for me her brother and his friends weren't very old, still pencil-dicked teens. Around fourteen or fifteen I think she said, they hadn't really stretched her out too much, she was still tight enough for me to enjoy. And somehow her spirit hadn't been broken by them fucking her, or maybe they just hadn't been very imaginative, or had been especially gentle with her, because she sobbed and cried and begged and pleaded and struggled furiously, just like a normal little kid might. A lot of the kids I'd procured over the years were too fucked up for me to get much use out of; instead of screaming and pleading they'd go numb, would hardly respond even to the most excruciating pain. They'd do whatever you asked, without struggling, as if they were used to it all. Nothing makes me limper faster than a willing fuck partner.

The other reason I remember her is that Nunzio had given me almost 8K for this particular little bitch, even though I'd bloodied her cunt with that bottle and her asshole was a fucking mess when I'd finished with her. He paid me so well because right up till the bitter end, she never gave up struggling, no matter how futile. Apparently she'd put on a real show, because I recall that a couple weeks later, when Sal came around for another pickup, he had a bonus envelope, and a message from Nunzio.

"Boss said to tell you, that little one?, a few weeks back..." I nodded that I understood which delivery he was referring to.

He pinched his fingers together, brought them to his lips, made a kissing sound.

"Primo," I'd agreed, almost smiling.

Sal had flicked his tongue briefly across his upper lip, unusual for him to show even that much emotion around me, that's why I remember it. It's only after seeing the videotape that I now understand Sal played a much bigger role in Nunzio's business than I'd thought.

***

The film that was found in this pervert's collection was grainy, it had obviously been badly duped from 8mm film to tape on one of those cheap little converter boxes, and the soundtrack was a mess, most of the speech was barely intelligible, but the screams, and the ... noises, ah! The unmistakable sounds of sex and violence, they were fortunately recognizable. My dick thrills as I recall the music of her thin, shrill, child's screech of agony.

The opening scene is straightforward enough, a simple rape, taking place in some unidentifiable warehouse, your standard cock-in-cunt pronging. Three men are holding the girl suspended in the air as a fourth man vigorously poles out her cunt. The camerawork is nothing special, just a nice mid shot of a little blonde girl, one main each holding an ankle spread as wide as her hips will allow, another man holds both her arms pulled straight above her head, which is thrashing about as she screams.

The men are laughing, having a good time, talking to each other. We are treated to a little variety, the camera moves in, a bit shakily, stops on a closeup of a fat veiny cock splitting open a swollen hairless pink snatch, there is no discoloration, no drooping pussy lips, this is the real thing alright, honest to god baby balling.

As the action heats up, the men's voices get more excited, the laughter is higher pitched, and it's obvious that the men holding the girl's legs have started helping out the man fucking her, her legs are being pulled back towards the cock splitting into her, her screaming increasing, peaking each time the head of the cock tearing into her tiny cunt slams into the gateway to her womb, the balls dangling beneath the organic instrument of torture slapping against the crease of her butt-cheeks.

Her screaming increases in desperation on each traversal of the meaty pole in her cunt, until her voice is hoarse and ragged, a raw, painful rasping scream, punctuated by the low-pitched, gasping grunts of extreme male pleasure as the man raping her ejaculates his sperm inside her small young body, his hands clutching her hips, fingers pressing bruises into her flesh, desperately trying to force as much of himself inside her as he can, it's my impression watching the film that he is frustrated at the physical limitations of their coupling, at the impossiblity of slamming his fleshy sword in to the hilt.

Whoever was operating the camera must have had experience with money shots, because the camera backs away to a shot of the slick, veiny cock pulled from her cunt, a slimy pinkish string of semen slowly trailing out of her. The men are laughing, and as the one who just dropped his load moves out of camera range, the three men holding the girl carry her over to a pile of dirty grey striped mattresses and dump her there, as this first scene fades to black.

The End