I am an attorney; a man of considerable repute and recognized as a pillar of society here in San Diego. I am quite well to do. I own a large house in the La Jolla area that overlooks the Pacific Ocean. I am fifty five years old, in excellent physical shape (I work out at the gym three days a week and I have a personal trainer who visits me twice a week). I have a full head of steel gray hair. In my community, I am on several Boards of Directors, and am quite active in both the United Way and the Lighthouse for the Blind. Also, I have been appointed an Elder of my church. But, that's another story.

In general, I would say that I have a wonderful life indeed.

I have never been married, although I have been engaged twice, both times to women who were both beautiful and intelligent. My law firm employs about forty people, but I now own businesses that employ over a thousand. There are numerous families that are dependent on me...and I have been known to take advantage of this. But that's also another story.

I often wonder how highly my community would rate me if they knew that I was a pedophile, a child molester, and a total and complete sexual debaucher of children. It's utterly amazing to me that just six years ago I never knew I was even capable of acts that I now relish and which have become the very core of my existence.

Let me explain:

The trouble all started seven years ago when my brother, Kevin, and his wife Morgan got killed in an automobile crash. It was the kind of accident that should never have happened. Morgan was driving with Kevin, coming home from the supermarket on Daly Street, when an unleashed puppy ran onto the street directly in front of their car. Morgan, instinctively, swerved to avoid killing the dog, and unthinkingly swerved directly into the path of an oncoming eighteen-wheeler. The good thing, the doctors told me, was that both died instantly.

While both my parents were deceased, Morgan's mother, Nancy, was still alive and she took immediate possession of Megan, their seven year old daughter. Megan had the kind of looks...very dark hair and light blue eyes...that you could tell she would be beautiful when she grew up. But right now, she looked like a seven year old girl...and a very sad, skinny one at that. I remember observing her at her parents' funeral. There was no real milieu showing in her face that she understood what had happened; only the fact that she was now going to live with Grandma Nancy. At the time I was engaged (my second engagement) to Rachel Castro, the daughter of the Tacate Beer family; probably worth forty to fifty million.

It was after the funeral when everyone came to my home for refreshments that things began to happen: Grandma Nancy, who had been a an all-important force in making the funeral arrangements, taking Megan in to live with her, putting my brother's house up for sale, and generally had proven her inner strength to all, pulled me aside.

"Matt..." she said to me, "I have to ask you to take Megan."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because other than me, you're her only living relative...and I can't have her living with me."

"Why not?" I asked with a sinking feeling in my stomach coagulating with a morbid curiosity.

"You know I love the girl...and she's the only remaining reminder I have of my daughter...but I've been seeing a man for a while now...and at my age you don't get to see many men..."

"What has this to do with Megan?" I protested.

"The man wants to marry me." I listened in silence. "Only he won't marry me if there's a seven year old kid in the house."

The quirky feeling in the pit of my stomach became stronger.

"Matt...You've got a big house, lots of money...and pretty soon you'll have a young wife. You can give Megan everything I could never give her. You're twenty years younger than me...and Megan loves you...and you would be a natural as her father..."

I could describe the conversation and my futile protests in great detail. Let it suffice to say that when the guests left, Megan stayed. Nancy had conveniently brought Megan's things with her in her car, and just as conveniently unloaded them in my living room. I did the best I could. I told Rachel, my fiance, that it would be better if she didn't spend the night, and I put Megan up in the guest bedroom wondering what boarding school I would send her to. I didn't sleep well at all that night. In fact, even though the sounds were very soft, I could hear Megan sobbing in the next room. As much as I tried stuffing the pillow over my head, I guess there must be a latent paternal instinct in all men. I got up and went to her room.

When I opened the door, the sobbing stopped, and Megan pretended to be asleep. But even in the pale glimmer of the moonlight through the curtained window I could see the wet streaks the tears had left on her face. I sat down next to her and gently stroked her hair.

In a courtroom, I'm a tiger! I'm never without the right words. But at that moment in the darkened room with my hand stroking this sweet child's hair, all I could say was, "Everything will be alright, Megan...I love you." Megan sat up on her knees and put her arms around me. She pressed her lips to mine...and I instinctively pulled back. I'm certain it was my imagination, but it almost felt like she started to put her tongue in my mouth. Ridiculous! I gently lowered her head to my shoulder. I let her linger there for a few minutes before I gently laid her back down into the bed, pulled the covers over her and quietly left the room. Then and there I made the decision that Megan would stay.

The next several days were just a preamble to the metamorphosis my life was going to undergo. When I went downstairs to the kitchen, Megan had prepared my breakfast (as she has done almost every day since). I called my office and had my secretary take care of registering Megan in a neighborhood school. I phoned a judge friend of mine in the Family Division and found out what he needed for me to formally adopt Megan. I took Megan shopping with my fiance. I called a decorator to re-do the guest bedroom as Megan's room.

In fact, over the next several weeks, virtually everything I did was to get Megan this; enroll Megan in dance class; get Megan that. I didn't even notice that I was seeing less and less of Rachel because my life was becoming more and more occupied with Megan. It wasn't more than a couple of months before Rachel decided that there was no longer sufficient room left in my life for her...and she called our engagement quits. Funny thing is, it didn't even bother me.

Raising a girl, when all you've ever known as a child is a brother, is quite a learning experience: Whoever said that, as children, there is little or no difference between a boy and a girl, doesn't know what he's talking about! Believe me...girls are different!

Even simple tasks like giving Megan a bath were a learning experience. Megan had no compunction about her nudity in my presence, and would sometimes leap up on me when I was drying her off with her arms around my neck and her legs wrapped around my waist. Sometimes she would even rub her pubis up and down my groin. Admittedly, there were times when I felt the onset of an erection, but I always kept it well concealed from her ...or so I thought.

In the summer of her eighth year I took off for a couple of weeks to take a tour of some of the western states with Megan. Our first stop was the Grand Canyon. As usual, our hotel room at the Lodge had two beds. For some reason, I had never allowed Megan to sleep with me. Perhaps it was a self-preservation instinct or an unconscious awareness of the Mr. Hyde which lurked inside me. The canyon was spectacular, but we had to call our tour short because one of those rare Arizona thunderstorms came crashing down on us. We went back to the Lodge and ordered room service for dinner. Then we watched TV for a couple of hours and I dropped off to sleep. As usual, Megan was wearing her nightgown with her panties underneath.

I awoke with a start when a bolt of lightning crashed a few hundred yards from the Lodge. Megan bounced out of bed and jumped into mine. She was shivering with fear. She begged me to let her stay, so I said ok...and shortly thereafter dropped off to sleep with Megan's head lying on my shoulder.

I gradually began to awaken from what seemed like an erotic dream as I felt warm, moist strokes on my cock. I opened my eyes as the morning sun was just beginning to stream into the room. I wasn't dreaming! I was almost too frightened to move as I looked and saw Megan's head bobbing up and down on my very erect penis that was sticking out from my pajama bottoms. I didn't move a muscle, but all sorts of horrible thoughts started to enter my mind as, uncontrollably, my sperm entered my cock and ejaculated spasm after spasm into Megan's tiny mouth and onto her face and dripped on my body. I still did not move a muscle as I watched, through three-quarter closed eyelids as Megan swallowed my semen, and even wiped her face with her fingers and put the cum from her face into her mouth. Then she licked the cum from my abdomen, and, again, put my softening penis into her mouth and sucked it absolutely dry.

I was too frightened to move! All I could think about was that my life was over! The courts don't care how it happened. If you have a sexual relationship with an eight year old girl, you are guilty! They send you to prison and throw away the key. Then the moralistic thugs in prison beat the shit out of you for having had sex with a child. The bar association will certainly disbar me. When I finally get out of jail, no one will want to hire or have anything to do with a disbarred lawyer whose been labeled as a pedophile. No one would ever believe that I was not responsible for what happened. It's always the adult's responsibility. Hell, I was here lying in bed, just having been given a blow job by my eight-year-old adopted daughter...and even I wouldn't accept it if a client told me the sequence of events. What would a juror think? They would look into Megan's innocent eyes and face and, without doubt say "Let's get that creep off the street before he tries something with my daughter. Oh yeah...I'm a dead man.

It was then I noticed that Megan was stark naked. I watched her through the narrow slits of my eyes as she looked at me to see if I was still asleep. Then she untied the string on my pajama bottoms and spread the cloth open. My God, what now?

She buried her head into my crotch and her tongue went to work again. This time she started licking my balls. She gently placed one of my balls in her mouth, and ever so tenderly licked it. I couldn't believe it but, heaven help me, I was starting to get hard again. Gently she started on the other ball, and then licked the skin between my anus and my balls. My rod was getting tall and stiff again...and yes, I felt the stirrings of coming for a second time. I hadn't cum twice in a row since I was in my twenties.

I knew I had to stop her...but, in truth, not only was I too scared to move, but there was something primal within me that was arousing definite feelings of lust.

I watched as she slowly lifted her face and smiled at me as though she knew I was awake. Then she placed one of her knees on one side of my hips and the other knee on the other side completely exposing her childish slit to my prone position. I've seen lots of women with wet pussies. I wasn't a great womanizer, but I'd had my share...many of whom had lived for moments of good sex and had really wet pussies. But as I looked at Megan, her unhaired pubis not only glistened with moisture, it was fairly dripping onto me like a leaky faucet. The tiny cleft that I had seen so many times while bathing her was now swollen and appeared definitely larger. Slowly she lowered herself onto my shaft. There was no way my cock could fit into an eight-year-old cunt. Yet, without any difficulty...without any obstacles...she slowly lowered herself onto my shaft and I watched it disappear into the tiniest, hottest, wettest cunt I had ever seen or felt. Tight? Hell yes it was tight, but surprisingly smooth. But her movement was so slow and deliberate that the tightness of her cunt only made my cock rise to the occasion.

It seemed totally wrong: my large cock disappearing into that tiny, hairless mound. Her labia seemed impossibly stretched beyond its ability to stretch. It couldn't fit...my cock was much too wide, too long. But slowly and effortlessly she gradually sank over me until absolutely none of my shaft was visible. Then, with what seemed to be deliberate slowness, she started to rise, my cock now glistening with her juices. No obstacle had been there...no hymen to rupture...She started back down...then up again. The smile on her face slowly turned to a smile of contentment and concentration as she moved up and down rhythmically, ever so slightly increasing her pace with each downward thrust of her hips.

This simply could not be happening! I closed my eyes tightly and hoped I would wake up to find Megan sleeping peacefully in the next bed. I opened my eyes wide expecting this dream to end. But I was not dreaming. My body had begun to desert my mind: my hips were moving up to greet each of Megan's downward thrusts. I could no longer pretend to be asleep, and I started to meet her every movement with one of my own. Then, on one downward thrust of her body, she stopped with her cunt pressed tightly against my pubic hair and started to rock her pelvis back and forth over me. The expression on her face changed to one of out-of-control passion as her hips began to buck and her body stiffened then began to shudder with the peak of her orgasm. There was no holding back. I exploded inside her and watched as my cum oozed out of her tiny cunt onto my abdomen. My shaft still inside her, she fell forward onto my chest with a sigh.

I lay there, still unbelieving of the events which had just transpired. I felt my cock soften and slowly slip out of her body. Damn me though if I didn't instinctively place my hands on her bare, childish butt and slide one finger and then two inside her dripping cunt.

"I love you, Uncle Matt," she murmured into my chest.

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

Suddenly, reality came crashing down on me. What had I done? "Megan," I asked softly, "Where did you learn to do that?"

Megan shrugged and put her arms around my neck. "I don't know."

"Megan...you've got to know that what you did was wrong."

"Why? Didn't I make you happy?" she asked lifting her head to look directly into my eyes. Her face became completely serious.

"Darling...I'm a grown man...and you're still a baby. Doing things like this with a grown man just isn't right. People are going to say that I forced you to do this, and they're going to get very mad at me. They might even take me away from you."

"I won't tell, I promise."

"Megan..." I spoke weighing each word carefully, "It's very difficult to keep something like this a secret. You'll have friends with whom you will become intimate and you will want to tell them..."

"No I won't...I promise."

"Darling...I believe you won't do it intentionally...but things like this just have a way of slipping out sometimes..."

"I never told about daddy."

"Daddy?"

"He's in Heaven now, so I don't have to keep it a secret...but I never told anyone about him."

"What about daddy, sweetheart?" I asked while pushing myself up to a sitting position on the bed. Megan sat facing me, Indianstyle, with her legs crossed giving me a fantastic view of her cunt still dripping with my cum. "Since he and mommy are in Heaven, why don't you tell me about daddy?"

For the next thirty minutes she told me a tale of sex and debauchery that would equal anything from the files of the Marquis de Sade. From the time she was three, Morgan had taught her to play with herself and insert small things into her vagina. By the time she was five, she had been instructed in the art of fellatio, and she would practice regularly on Kevin, her father. Soon, Kevin and Morgan started bringing over friends. Couples with whom they would share sex and then bring Megan into the foursome. Kevin taught his daughter that when a man does something nice for her...like buy her candy or take her to Disneyland, she should thank the man by giving him a blow job. Two months before he died, Kevin gave her some larger toys to insert in her vagina, and then put her through a solemn ritual where four grown men repeatedly raped her. Even though it was painful and she cried, at first, she became accustomed to the pain. Then it began to feel good to her. By the time each of the men had taken his second or third turn with Megan, the men were getting tired, but Megan was getting stimulated and really starting to enjoy the new, wonderful sensations she was feeling. Following this ritual, Kevin frequently had intercourse with his daughter as did any number of so-called "uncles" that Kevin brought into the house. But that's another story.

Megan told me that, just before her ritual, her father kept inserting larger and larger dildos into her cunt until it looked like she could readily accommodate a full-grown man. Then, after the ritual, Megan began to look forward to putting things in her cunt. She even managed to fill it once or twice with a large cucumber. Then, putting things in her cunt began to feel so good, she began to look forward to each new sex partner. Shortly before her parents' auto accident, Megan had gotten to the point where she looked forward to a man fucking her. It was the man's way of telling Megan that he liked her.

Megan's entire life was either filled with sex or filled with thoughts of sex. If there was no man around, she would masturbate until orgasm using things from the kitchen like carrots, bananas, hot dogs, the handles of kitchen utensils whenever she could. When she went to live with Grandma Nancy for a few days before her parents' funeral, she willingly accepted the affection of Nancy's boyfriend. He had pushed Megan's shorts and panties down to her knees and was sliding his finger over her slit when Nancy walked into the room. That's why Nancy wanted Megan out of her house.

When Megan came to live with me she expected me to show my approval of her by fucking her. She sensed that I was different from all the other men she'd met, and although she was hurt that I never wanted to be intimate with her like the others, Megan instinctively felt that an aggressive move on her part would not be welcomed by me. Megan told me that she would sometimes cry herself to sleep because she thought maybe I didn't really love her. She felt like I only loved her to a point...and she desperately wanted to get beyond that point, but she didn't know how because there was something about me that seemed to want to keep a distance from her. But last night, when she was lying next to me in the bed, she knew she had to take the first step and show how much she loved me.

Outwardly, I retained my poise and dignity while listening to Megan, but inside I was shivering. My own brother...and his wife...perverts! Using and abusing their own baby. It was all unreal. My adopted daughter at age eight was as versed in pleasuring a man as just about any woman I had ever met, including Rachel, who was no slouch.

Notwithstanding what she had told me and my own revulsion of what my brother and sister-in-law had done to Megan, I reluctantly had to admit there was something almost uncontrollably erotic about the whole thing; something like the fulfillment of a fantasy you never expected to happen...that you would never have allowed to happen if you were aware of it as a possibility. Yet, as she told me her tale, I felt the stirrings of still another erection starting. I moved to, inconspicuously, cover myself. I looked at her completely flat, childish breasts. Her hips only slightly curved with the promise of future womanhood. Unquestionably, a child who should be protected from the realities of the adult world...

But how do you protect a child who is not only aware of adult things, but has lived them for years?

I thought about what had happened as rationally as I was capable of doing: but even my thoughts were interspersed with feelings of a primal lust that had lain hidden even from my own view. It was a good blow job. No...it was a fantastic blow job. She did things with her eight year old tongue that I had never before experienced. Hell...that I had never before imagined possible. And when she slid herself down onto my cock...she may have looked like a child, but she sure didn't act like a child. Not only was it good sex, it was the best sex I'd ever had.

I had to put thoughts like that out of my mind.

One thing was certain: My life as I knew it, was over. One word from Megan's lips and I was, effectively, a dead man. I had no place to go, nowhere to turn. But I needed time to think. I ordered breakfast from room service, then packed our things into my Mercedes and we headed for Las Vegas.

The trip to Vegas was unusually silent for me as millions of contradictory thoughts raced through my head. Every time my mind slipped to the thoughts of how much pleasure she had given me, the word "jail" sprang up like a glass of iced water being poured over my brain.

Megan sat in the back seat playing with her Cabbage-Patch doll acting completely like you would expect an eight-year-old to act.

I thought about the events of the morning: How, under any conditions, could I have allowed myself to have sex with an eight-year-old child? Was I as big a pervert as my brother had been? I was almost aghast with myself...yet, as I thought about watching her over me, I could feel my member begin to swell. When we stopped for lunch, I went into the Men's Room and took a long pee. It was air conditioned, but perspiration was dripping from everywhere on my body.

It was obvious that I could not call the police or the child welfare services. The first thing they would do would be to put me in jail, and probably send Megan off to some Foster home...where she would either become a psychopath...or perhaps introduce her foster parents to her need for physical love. Sending her away to a boarding school wouldn't work either...for the same reasons.

We arrived in Vegas about 4PM and went straight to the Bellagio Hotel. There is something about Vegas. Behind all the glitter and the clattering sound of jackpots being won, there is an ambience of desperation. People desperate to have some fun before they have to return to their ruts; people desperate to win money which they know they will never win; people desperate for a change in their lives; people so desperate for recognition that they will gladly trade their life's earnings to be called Mr. So-and-so by a maitre de at a hotel restaurant.

We went to our room which was a very posh suite. It had two bedrooms with a living room between them. I went into one bedroom and told Megan to go into the other. I sat down on my bed. My resolve was beginning to form. I knew that Megan would find a reason to come into my room. About ten minutes later, she came into my room on the pretext of wanting to know if the hotel had a swimming pool for kids.

"Megan," I said softly, "sit down."

Megan immediately hopped onto the bed alongside me.

"I've given a lot of thought to what happened this morning. I realize that your daddy taught you it was all right to do these things with a grown man...but he was wrong. I want you to know that I love you very much...as much as if you had been born to me instead of my brother. But, sweetheart, we can't allow what happened this morning to ever happen again. Not only is it wrong, but if anyone ever found out about us, the police would take you away from me...and I'm sure you don't want that to happen..."

"But I swear I'll never tell..." she whined.

"Of course you won't. If anyone ever finds out about it, it will probably be by accident...but my life will be finished nevertheless. And that's not what you want, is it?" Megan shook her head unable to hold back the welling of tears in her eyes.

"I can't pretend it never happened...because it did happen," I continued. Megan nodded.

"...and if anyone ever finds out about what we did, it's not going to make any difference to them whether we did it once or whether we did it a hundred times. Our lives will be changed forever. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Megan nodded her head, but her face began to brighten.

"But if it doesn't make any difference if we do it a hundred times..." Megan said hopefully.

"Megan...I'm very tired and I need a little rest before we go anywhere. Now go to your room and watch TV for a while."

Megan, slowly and sadly got off of my bed and went into her room. I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes. The thought that took possession of my mind was the fantastic sex we had shared that morning. I tried to put it out of my mind. Then it hit me like an arm of lightning...Where was my trained, legal mind?

Out of the mouths of babes...She was absolutely right! It wouldn't change a thing if we did it a thousand times. I'm just as dead for having fucked her once as I would be if I fucked her a thousand times. And if I'm going to be taken down, at least I can go down having enjoyed some of the best sex I've ever known. But how could I, as a grown man, even think of forming a sexual liaison with a child? Still...she was not really a child in a sexual sense. In fact she was quite knowledgeable in the art of sex...and it wasn't as if I had robbed her of her childhood...and let's face it...there was something surprisingly erotic and exciting about having sex with someone so young...

I bolted up to a sitting position. For the first time I noticed that I had a raging hard-on. I knew what I had to do. "Megan," I called.

Megan came into my room slowly and somewhat sheepishly. Her eyes went straight to my boner.

"Megan...I've changed my mind. From now on we're going to use only one bed...for both of us!"

With a squeal of delight, Megan threw her arms around me and kissed me...and did she ever kiss me: Her little tongue gave the inside of my mouth and tongue a workout like they have never had! Then she turned and looked at my erection which was now bigger and harder than I'd seen in years. She pulled down my zipper and freed my shaft. Her mouth went down on it like a hungry leopard...or rather, a hungry...toothless... leopard. She was fantastic!

And, it's been that way now for six years...and just keeping up with her has made me feel thirty years younger. I didn't know I was capable of so much sex in my life. I stopped worrying about being discovered. In fact, now that Megan is fourteen and has developed a coltish figure that drives me mad, I'll even kid around with colleagues about my daughter...and they laugh because they know I'm kidding. Hah!

As for my professional life...as I said at the outset, my law practice is thriving. The businesses I own are thriving. I am still thought of as a pillar of my church. Over the course of six years, there were a few friends of Megan's that we had to reveal our situation to because they joined us in our sexual pleasures. But, generally, Megan and I have kept our secret well...at least to a point. My sex life has never been better. Megan, at fourteen, is beginning to show the beauty that was just a promise when I took her into my home.

It's interesting: Many of my friends have wives or girlfriends with whom, after six years, sexual interest has begun to wane. Not so with Megan. She keeps my cock hard most of the time. And I love it! I have become a total and unabashed lecher.

There is never any jealousy between us. When I go out with women more my age (I do need that kind of company, too) or she goes out with other boys her own age, there is never any possessiveness. In fact, Megan felt that the joy and pleasure we shared should be shared with some of her classmates. But that's another story.