It was her legs, he noticed first. Or more specifically her socks. They were short, pink ankle socks with small furry bobbles adorning the tops. She was sitting on one of the old swings at the far end of the park and Robert watched as she swung her legs back and forth idly in the warm afternoon breeze. She looked to be about 10 or 11 years old. A tug at the lead told him that Midge had finished sniffing around the base of this particular tree and was eager to explore new vistas. Robert started walking once again as the black and white spaniel tugged enthusiastically at his lead and panting.

Robert became aware of that sense of mild discomfort he always seemed to get whenever he saw a little girl nowadays. What, to most people, would be merely sweet or cute brought to Robert a kind of breathless excitement that disturbed his stomach and made the acid rise in his throat. Since Jane died three years ago, it was as though his life had closed down. He had gone into a kind of hibernation where his pastimes were increasingly solitary ones. As a couple, their friends had been mainly her friends and their various social engagements, days out and holidays had generally been at Jane's instigation. Left to himself, he found he just never got around to arranging things like that and his life was becoming more and more that of the hermit. He did see people occasionally, of course, usually work colleagues, but the greater part of his private life was now spent alone.

He had always had a very strong libido - something which Jane found had difficult to manage from time to time - and since now he had no outlet for it, his time was spent more and more on his computer. The internet had been the greatest sexual revolution of them all. Not only could we shop, book tickets, travel and pretty much anything else, but we could interact with our government, pay our bills, read the news and follow our favourite celebrity or sports team. For Robert, however, like most single men, the web had become that ever-willing, uncomplaining lover; tirelessly able to provide for all sexual needs. Ninety percent of his online time was devoted to searching for images of naked women. Initially, when he had first set up their internet connection, Jane had still been alive and his occasional free, private hour, late at night after she had gone to bed, was spent fairly innocently. Simple nudes or straight forward heterosexual activity was all he knew how to find and there seemed a limitless supply.

In the last few years, however, things had moved on considerably. The endless free time he had after work finished and during his lengthy weekends had become almost totally taken up with sitting at his computer searching for more and more exotic forms of erotica. His browsing had become obsessive and he soon found himself increasingly desensitised by the mundane and needing more and more unusual, transgressive imagery in order to stimulate him. It had been strictly adults at first, of course, but having one day stumbled accidentally across an image of a pubescent girl -clothed, though posed very suggestively with her legs open - the powerful erotic charge of the forbidden had hooked him like no other type of photograph he had ever seen. He knew it was wrong, but the heady mixture of freshness and corrupted innocence seemed irresistible to him and he soon managed to push his guilt to the back of his mind. Gradually, he found he was searching the more obscure parts of the web for increasingly revealing images of young girls. Of course, he was meticulous not to leave traces, knowing as he did the disastrous consequences of getting caught. Fortunately, his IT training meant he was able to fish these dangerous waters with equanimity. He soon became adept and sourcing more and more explicit content which - to his surprise - seemed to be freely available without the need to part with incriminating credit card details.

The most fruitful areas of study seemed to be in the usenet newsgroups where he found a rich seam of material far more arousing than anything he had seen previously. One day to his immense delight, he discovered a seemingly endless series of photo sets of extremely pretty young girls, the youngest amongst them were clearly pre-pubescent but the older ones ranged up to about age 15. He was particularly stuck by their quality. It was not was he expected. The photography and lighting were of the highest professional standard; surprising, given the subject matter. Each photoset had the girl start out wearing some kind of strange, yet highly fetching outfit which she gradually shed through the series of 100 or so pictures. The last half of the set invariably had the girl completely naked and usually displaying herself in an extremely explicit way, usually with several close up shots of her vulva. These were certainly not innocent "peeping tom" type shots taking advantage of an unwitting victim. The entire set up and style of posing was blatantly sexual and utterly at odds with the tender age of the models. The erotic charge of the photographs was almost too much for Robert to cope with; he could scarcely believe his eyes. He would gladly have paid considerable sums for such images, yet they all seemed to be posted for free on the newsgroups in a seemingly endless sequence. He had never seen a young girl naked before (at least not at such early ages). Of course he was often drawn to a cute young early teen on the street (as, no doubt, were most men), but up to now had only had his fantasies to sketch in what she might look like naked. But now he was able to see the intimate progress of puberty in all its glory and in intimate detail played out over a seemingly limitless series of extraordinarily pretty girls. Virtually without exception they were conspicuously beautiful, with winsome, enchanting expressions and lithe young bodies. As if that wasn't intense enough, each young model wore make up, expertly applied in a way which made her look much older. This stark contrast between the seductive glances from an almost adult looking face and the tender, developing young body created an overpoweringly erotic effect.

Robert found he could not get enough of these images and soon had a collection of several thousand. He wasn't much interested in the really young models, hairless and pre-pubescent as they were. They were just too child-like for him and he could never consider them as sexual. Similarly, the older models looked too much like adults to pique his interest. The most arousing images (and the ones that made up the overwhelming bulk of his collection) were the girls aged between about 10 and 12. It was these young sirens for whom womanhood was just emerging who bewitched him most of all, with their budding breasts and wispy tufts of pubic hair. Some of them had the most delightful curves, almost womanly, yet still had under-developed genitals. The way they cavorted for the camera, always smiling sweetly and apparently perfectly happy and relaxed intrigued him. How on earth had the photographer managed to get such young models (at ages usually characterised by gauche self consciousness) to disrobe and pose so shamelessly? What could be going through the child's mind as she lay with her legs widely spread and the camera lens only inches away from her young vulva? Was she not embarrassed, scandalised, puzzled even? How had all this been explained to her? How was she persuaded not only into willingness, but such apparent enjoyment at such inappropriate behaviour (for the clearly happy and natural expressions each girl wore gave the lie to any thoughts of coercion or duress). More astonishing still was the thought of the parents' of these young starlets. It was hard to believe they could be posing without their parents' knowledge, yet what kind of mother and father could possibly be happy to let their adolescent daughter pose for such explicit pornography? Were they just immoral? Or were they so desperately impoverished that they could not afford scruples and had to rent out their young daughter in order to be able to put bread on the table? Somehow these perplexing questions only added to the intrigue and the powerful erotic charge of the images. He even wondered if some of the girls were feeling some sense of erotic excitement themselves as quite a few of the photographs clearly showed a whitish oozing from the vagina which could only be evidence of lubrication.

Perhaps not surprisingly his new hobby began to affect his perceptions and thinking generally. It was almost inevitable that fantasy would start to seep into reality. Now, whenever he passed a young girl in the street, rather than the picture of innocent sweetness he had always beheld previously, his mind harboured altogether more arousing images. He now knew exactly what stage her breasts would have reached and could clearly visualise how developed her vulva would be at any given stage of adolescence. These new imaginings caused him no small amount of concern at first. Whilst it was one thing to pursue his depraved lusts at the computer in the privacy of his study, he didn't feel altogether comfortable about the notion of such noxious thoughts leaking dangerously out into the real world of his local neighbourhood. The libido, however, is a powerful master and gradually he put such scruples to the back of his mind as he became accustomed to feeling powerfully aroused whenever he encountered young girls. After all, as he frequently told himself, there's no harm done. His private thoughts were just that: Private. These innocent little flowers were free to walk past him unmolested and quite unaware of what lewdness he might be visualizing.

So it was little surprise, he felt, when on this bright, early Summer's afternoon, he should experience that familiar guilty discomfort once again. It resurfaced in his mind like a bad smell. The dog sniffed his way with random purposefulness along the side of the path, stopping here and there to savour a particularly fragrant spot. Together Robert and Midge approached the park bench to which the child had now moved - seemingly bored of the swing. There she sat, lolling listlessly on the bench gazing at her pink sandals presumably in a reverie of girlish thoughts. She didn't notice them walking towards her until Midge pulled at his lead gaining just enough freedom to be able to sniff the girl's feet and lick her creamy white calf. She instinctively withdrew the foot and giggled nervously. "It's ok," said Robert, "he's quite harmless!" He smiled at her, eager to put her at her ease. But she did not reply and only half met his gaze with the awkward shyness of youth, before returning once again to contemplate her feet. Despite himself, he did not wish to alarm her, so he didn't make any further attempts at social interaction. But he couldn't help noticing the sadness in her face. A bad day? No, it seemed to him that her doleful expression and downcast gaze were born of some longer, more permanent troubles. She was not unattractive. Her large, grey eyes appeared to turn down slightly further emphasizing her air of misery and she had a pretty little nose and full lips. Despite her sad appearance, she was not without a certain beguiling charm and she had the loveliest flowing blonde hair which she wore loose. He felt quite convinced that if a little good fortune were to smile on her, she would be quite enchanting. He thought he saw the steely glint of braces on her teeth, but he could not be sure.

There was something about this girl that made a particularly strong impression on him though. She beguiled him, for some reason. He longed to pause a few moments with her, to speak to her softly and perhaps even to cheer her up a little. He also realised that it was probably precisely the strength of this impression that was making him feel that familiar unease. For he knew well enough that his interest in little girls was far from an innocent one and that something far less honourable than benign human empathy lay beneath his interest. Nevertheless, his concern was genuine and as he and the dog walked past her and back toward the house, his mind ruminated on the possible explanation for her demeanour. She looked presentable enough, not dirty or dishevelled, so he doubted she was a runaway. Neither were her clothes the cheap sportswear and inappropriately sexualised themes of a poor, white trash family. Instead, she had been wearing the simple clothes appropriate for a young child of her age; a white t-shirt, denim boiler suit and pink plastic sandals. If anything her attire was that of a slightly younger child; surely an indication of a good upbringing if ever there was one. That desire of the middle classes to protect the innocence of childhood for as long as possible; to resist the seemingly inexorable sexualisation of youth and the shortening of childhood.

Some days later, he was out walking Midge and he saw her again and in precisely the same spot as before. It occurred to him that is was a bit of a coincidence that she should be there twice in such quick succession. Especially as he had had never set eyes on her before that and assumed that she didn't live nearby. Seeing her again, however, made him wonder if she was indeed local. She saw him approaching, this time she looked up at him actually meeting his gaze. He smiled, instinctively, but this seemed too much for her and she quickly looked away. Feeling once again the strong desire to get to know this bewitching young child, he walked towards her and sat down beside her on the bench on the pretext of tying his shoelace. He waited a few moments before speaking.

"Lovely day again," he said vaguely to no-one in particular as he laid his head back. But he instantly felt foolish as it dawned on him that the last thing children were generally interested in was small talk about the weather. She looked up at him, briefly, and as he turned to see her mouth form a tentative smile, he noticed that she was indeed wearing a brace. Her eyes, however, did not smile. They remained doleful, languorous. Beautiful, he thought. Sad, but beautiful. She looked down at the dog and began to stroke his neck gently. Midge responded as he always did with an open mouthed yawn of contentment. "He likes that." Robert tried to sound as friendly and encouraging as he could. "Loves to be stroked, don't you boy!" The girl stroked him a little more purposefully now and, thus encouraged, began to smile properly. Finally, she spoke.

"Is he your dog?" Her soft voice with its gentle upward inflection melted him and he felt his heart jump.

"Yes, he is. His name's Midge. Do you like dogs?"

"That's a funny name," she replied, apparently ignoring his question.

"Yes," Robert laughed. "Yes, I suppose it is. We've got so used to it I hardly notice. I think his mommy gave him that name?" This elicited a soft peal of laughter from the girl that quite took him by surprise. She looked up at him brushing a lock of hair out of her face.

"His mommy?" she asked in a slightly teasing tone. "You mean his dog mommy?" Suddenly realising his error and delighted to see her smiling, Robert also laughed.

"Sorry" Yes.. you are right. What I meant to say is my wife called him that. We used to call her his mommy. Didn't we Midge, eh?" he rubbed the dog's neck affectionately.

"Oh," was the reply. Robert repeated his question.

"So do you like dogs?"

"Yes," she said. "We haven't got one though. I wish we did. My dad says they're too much trouble because you have to walk them the whole time." Robert laughed.

"Your dad's probably right about that! Well anyway, we come along here quite often for our little walks so I expect you'll see us again. Do you live nearby?" he asked. Seeing that her expression, once again became uncertain, he hastily backtracked. "Oh, I didn't mean to pry. I expect your parents have told not to talk to strangers." She gave a nervous laugh again and nodded her agreement. "Very wise", he said sagely. "Well if we do see you again, you are always welcome to play with Midge." Robert got up and the girl looked up, watching him leave with the first genuinely relaxed smile he had seen from her. Surreptitiously glancing back, Robert could see that she watched them all the way back until they finally left the path to turn onto the street.

Over the next few weeks, Robert varied his dog walking route little in the hope of seeing the lovely little creature again. He was not disappointed. He and Midge now took the same little path along the side of the park every day, rather than merely occasionally as before. But whereas only a few weeks ago, it had been a solitary and uneventful experience, now it seemed the little girl (whom he soon learned was called Charlotte) was always in the vicinity. He even began to wonder if she had started hanging around in the same spot just so she would be able to see the nice friendly man with the little dog. She never seemed to be with any friends though. She was always alone. Robert made full use of the opportunity to sit beside her on the park bench whenever he could do so casually and little by little, as her natural caution lifted, they started to get to know each other.

He learned that she was aged `ten and three-quarters', the youngest of three children, but that her two older brothers were much older and no longer lived at home. Charlotte had been a mistake, it seemed. Whether for this reason, or some other, it seemed her parents had little time for her and she spent a good deal of her time unsupervised. Charlotte's father was a salesman of some kind as far as he could tell from her somewhat imprecise, juvenile description and was away a great deal on business. Her mother seemed hardly any better. When she wasn't working she seemed to be perpetually out shopping or visiting friends and the resigned, matter-of-fact way Charlotte described her rather solitary and unloved life broke Robert's heart. Gradually, he began to understand some of the sadness in her eyes even though she seemed to know little else and had grown accustomed to being left alone. He and Jane had never been able to have children, much to their regret, and he was at a loss to understand how a couple blessed with three could be quite so neglectful of such a gift as this darling little girl. Despite the pity and fatherly feelings he felt towards her, he knew deep down that his principal motivation for getting to know her was sexual and his regular evening masturbations now began to feature Charlotte more and more prominently. He was able to conjure up images of her easily, fusing them with the girls in the pornographic photographs in his collection. He imagined her modelling for his camera, lying back with her legs open, exposing her delicate and intimate secrets for his prying lens.

Given how often Charlotte seemed to left alone at home, Robert frequently invited her to his house where she could at least be comfortable and watch the TV, or have a drink and something to eat. She always made some excuse as to why she couldn't, citing her mother's likely disapproval. One day, however, she when she seemed especially dejected for some reason, she finally accepted.

"Ok, but only for a bit..." she said. Robert's heart leapt with joy at the prospect and together they walked back to his house. Charlotte seemed to perk up a little and took Midge's leash for the duration of the walk. Once inside, the child eagerly went exploring - having first asked permission, naturally. Robert set about making her a milkshake in the kitchen as she did so. After a few minutes of hearing her footsteps in the upstairs rooms, he went up to look for her. Much to his surprise, he discovered her reclining on his bed.

"Hello," he said. "What are you up to in here?" He made sure his tone was friendly and teasing, rather than cross. She opened her eyes.

"Just having a rest," she said. "It's nice up here and your bed's nice and comfy!"

"Oh, is it? Good. Are you sleepy then?"

"A bit. It smells all warm and cosy. The bed covers, ." As she spoke, she snuggled into his pillow with a relaxed familiarity. Robert laughed solicitously and went to sit down beside her on the bed. It was a hot day and she was wearing just a long white t-shirt with a Snoopy design. She was not yet well developed enough to need a bra and the cotton hugged the contours of her young body outlining every feature. His eyes ran down her slender form to her hips where he could clearly make out the pale blue outline of her panties and the gentle hump of her pubis. The thought of such a precious prize lying under a mere two layers of thin cotton excited him and he felt his penis spring to life. Almost as if to break the spell he was under and quench the fire, he swiftly turned his attention to a safer part of her body.

"Hey, young lady!" he mock-scolded, pointing at her trainers," take these off. We don't wear shoes on the bed now do we?" Charlotte giggled and smiled up at him and for the first time he felt a genuine warmth between them. Seizing the moment, he patted her soft, creamy calf and untied the laces on her trainers. But she hastily stood up and made it clear that this was a step too far.

"Um..I'd better go now," she said, once again back in her melancholy mode. It was as if his touch had broken a kind of spell and they were now back in the real world again; the world of anxieties, of rules and of limitations.

"Ok, Charlotte. Of course." He was most keen to show her that she could come and go as she pleased and did not want to jeopardise the prospect of her returning at some point. Suddenly, she remembered something,

"Oh..um...I need to go to the toilet please, Mr Robert?" she said with slightly stilted politeness.

"Oh, yes, of course, sweetheart. It's right out here on the landing." Stepping out of the bedroom he pointed the way, "And you don't need to call me `Mr' Just plain Robert is more friendly, don't you think?" She looked at him with a slight shrug and a smile and he watched as she entered -fumbling with the slightly faulty catch on the door - and locked herself in. Unable to prevent himself, he crept towards the door and stooped to peer furtively in through the keyhole. But alas, the viewpoint was wrong and all he got was a sight line across the small room to the window as he heard the soft tinkling of Charlotte's urination. However, with an instant shock of excitement as an idea took shape in his mind. He immediately thought of his video camera and the small table opposite the lavatory and his thoughts raced giddily.

As it turned out, this was to be the first of many regular visits to his house. He was extremely careful not to put any pressure on her and gradually, Robert found that Charlotte's confidence and feeling of security seemed to grow and it was as though the warmth of his welcome started to fill some void in her. No doubt for Charlotte, her new grown-up friend was starting to fill the space left by her absent parents. She even started dropping into his house of her own accord; unannounced. The nature of his work meant that he was able to work from home a good deal of the time and so Charlotte often found him in when she was on her way home from school. Much as he loved these impromptu visits, Robert grew concerned at the possible suspicions of her parents seeing her repeated absences. His fears proved groundless, however, as he discovered one afternoon. On gently quizzing her on the subject, she assured him that her parents were never in when she came to visit him, in any case, and so she had not bothered to make any mention of her new friend. Thus reassured, it was shortly after this, that he decided to put into action the idea that had occurred to him that day of her first visit.

The video camera had been a present from his nephew last Christmas. He had never really had much use of it and wasn't quite sure why Martin had bought it for him. Now, however, he was genuinely excited about putting it to use. He experimented with concealing it in a small overnight bag and ensuring that the lens pointed out of a partially unzipped flap in the end of the bag. He made a few test runs and found that, although completely invisible to a casual inspection, it was nevertheless able to film perfectly well anything within a two or three metre range. He then placed the bag on the small table that faced the lavatory and through a process of trial and error found just the right position and orientation so as to optimise the view of anyone using the toilet.

Of course, as luck would have it, Charlotte left a rather longer gap before her next visit and Robert was becoming quite frustrated at not being able to see the fruits of his efforts. At last, though, one Thursday afternoon at about four, there came the ring of the doorbell he had been waiting for. He had made sure that he gave Charlotte plenty to drink; he knew by now that she found cranberry juice hard to resist (she confessed that she was never allowed to have it at home). Sure enough, physiology duly took its course and during an episode of one of her favourite after school, teenage tv shows, she bounded up the stairs to the toilet. Robert had of course prepared well - there was no way he was going to miss out on this golden opportunity. The camera was fully charged and he had taken the precaution of going upstairs to switch it on shortly after she had arrived, as he did each time she paid him a visit. Just in case. Though it had been almost an hour until she had needed to visit the toilet, he had loaded the camera with a three hour tape to ensure he wouldn't miss anything. A few moments later, Charlotte bounded down the stairs in her usual carefree way and Robert now had to endure the wait before he could savour the results of his subterfuge in private. For once, he had something even more appealing that having her in the house with him and he could barely summon the patience he needed.

The moment she left the house and slammed the front door behind her, Robert leapt up the stairs three at a time with his heart thumping in his chest. Reaching inside the bag, he took out the camera which he noticed to his horror had stopped running. But stopped when? His mind raced as went back down to his study. All he needed were a few precious moments, but they had to be the right moments. Had the tape lasted until she had gone upstairs, or had he misjudged the whole thing and missed it? In his feverish excitement, he fumbled over the connections and took longer than necessary to hook the camera up to his computer. Finally, he got an image up on the screen; a static image of his toilet. Fast forwarding through the empty minutes, tens of minutes, through what seemed like hours, he cursed to himself that he hadn't set the option to have the time of day displayed. At least he could have made a note of the time she went to the toilet and gone straight to it now. He steadily increased the fast forward speed to its highest setting. Of course nothing changed in terms of the view. His toilet remained there - a motionless witness - only the pitch of the camera's motor gave away the rate at which time was being telescoped.

Suddenly, a flash of something and it was gone. Robert hit the stop button and started to backtrack. He saw the image of Charlotte reversing into the toilet and he breathed an audible sigh of relief. Caught it! Slowing down the rewind pace he carefully took the tape back to the moment just before she entered the room. He wanted to savour this and felt that familiar knot of excitement tighten in his chest. The small figure wandered tentatively into the lavatory and carefully locked the door behind her. Without further ado, she pulled down the black leggings and white cotton panties. The image seemed to Robert to be of quite good quality, but he was frustrated by the speed with which she sat down and, placing her elbows on her knees and chin on her palms, proceeded with the business in hand. Between her pale legs, there was nothing but dark shadows and he could see nothing of interest. Just then, she became interested in something to the left hand side of the toilet and she leaned across slightly to take a closer look. As she did so, her legs opened further and he got a definite sight of her slit, but in no real detail. Having apparently finished, she then tore off a strip of toilet tissue and commenced wiping herself absent mindedly. Whilst the enticing, though brief, glimpse between Charlotte's legs had made his heart skip a beat, he was preparing himself for the disappointment that that was all there was. After wiping herself, she stood and to his amazement and delight her t-shirt had folded up around her belly leaving her pubis completely exposed. She stood there for a magical few seconds - inexplicably motionless - during which time he drank in the view. He was surprised to see that she was not entirely without hair. Her virtual absence of breasts had led him to believe that she would still be unadorned down below. However, despite the fact that the image quality was not the best, he could clearly make out a small dark shadow at the base of her delta which could only be a tuft of pubic hair.

Robert ran the section of tape over and over again hungry for every last morsel of detail. How he wished he had one of those "enhance" buttons (so beloved of Hollywood action movies) that could blow up any image and reveal more and more hidden features. But alas, the pixels just weren't there. His appetite, however, had been whetted. Far from satisfying his curiosity about the young girl, it had only served to arouse it still further and he began to think of how he might see more of her tender young flesh. His masturbatory fantasies featured Charlotte without exception and his new found knowledge of her pubic hair development allowed him to match her more closely to one of the girls in his collection. She looked most like one of the girls in one of the more recently downloaded sets, but more importantly, the little tuft of pubic hair appeared to be exactly right. He pored over the two sets of this particular model with feverish intensity, drinking in every detail. He found he returned to one shot in particular over and over again. It was a close up of the child's vulva and clearly showed the pinkish petals of her tender sex nestling between the sparse wisps of brownish curls. He imagined having complete liberty with her to do as he pleased; his innocent, yet compliant angel of pleasure. He knew, of course, that any real sexual contact should remain safely closed away in that part of his mind behind a door labelled `no entry.' Nevertheless, he allowed himself to fantasize and began to consider perhaps even being able to sneak the odd touch, if he was careful about it. Even touching, however, would require a good deal of care and could not be rushed at clumsily. He still liked to think of himself as a law abiding citizen and had no desire to do anything that might send his beloved Charlotte running, crying to her parents and him crying to jail!

...to be continued...