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From: "Georgie Porgie" <georgieporgie@fastmail.fm>
Subject: {ASSM} Rescuing Jenny 01: Meeting in the Park {Georgie Porgie} (Mg7 pedo rom cons play)
Date: Mon,  7 Apr 2003 21:10:05 -0400
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          Don't skip over this disclaimer!  It's important!

       This and other stories by Georgie Porgie can be found at:
                 http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/GeorgiePorgie/www

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"If the First Amendment means anything, it means that a state has no
business telling a man, sitting alone in his own house, what books he
may read or what films he may watch."  -- Justice Thurgood Marshall

Never let anyone try to tell you that you're not allowed to READ A STORY
because you're under some stupid arbitrary age that changes from country
to country, and year to year.  But if you're under the stupid arbitrary
age at the particular time and place you read this, keep quiet about it.

And never let anyone try to tell you that you're not allowed to READ A
STORY because some people currently in power in the place you live (no
matter if that's your country or your home) have decided THEY don't like
to read what YOU like to read.  But if they've 'banned' this story, then
keep quiet about it reading it.

The author does not condone abuse of any person, by any other person,
regardless of the ages, genders, heritage, or political or biological
relationships between any of the persons involved.  Abuse includes any
activity done without the willing participation of everyone directly
involved, unless done to prevent other abuse under this definition.
But it also includes using force or threats to interfere in, disrupt,
or prevent the activities of others NOT committing abuse under this
definition, by others who are NOT directly involved.  Any person guilty
of abuse under this definition should be arrested to prevent such abuse.

"There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book.  Books
are well written or badly written.  That is all."  -- Oscar Wilde

Fantasies are fantasies, and are not real life.  This story is a FANTASY
and if it involves abuse of anyone by anyone else, then nobody should
act that way in real life, nor tolerate anyone else acting that way in
real life.  But neither should anyone object, in real life, to anyone
else's FANTASIES, let alone try to justify real-life abuse because of
them.  In over 30 years of reading and writing stories like this, the
author has NEVER hurt any real person, nor tolerated anyone else doing
so.  Enjoying FANTASIES like this DOES NOT and NEED NOT not make anyone
a monster in real life, as long as they understand that real people are
not to be treated this way.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

This story is Copyrighted (C) by Georgie Porgie.  All rights reserved.
It may be FREELY reposted to any appropriate newsgroup providing all the
following conditions are met:

1. This header remains attached to the story unchanged.
2. The full disclaimers below remain unchanged.
3. The subject line is unchanged, allowing potential readers to decide
   to avoid the story if they wouldn't like it.
4. The story is posted unaltered, either by addition or deletion.

People who flood the newsgroup with a hundred stories, none of which
have story codes, are obnoxious morons wasting the time of everyone
reading the group, and providing nothing of value.  I don't want any
of my stories to be posted by obnoxious morons.

It may be FREELY archived on any appropriate web site providing all the
following conditions are met:

1. The web site links ONLY to: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/GeorgiePorgie/www
   rather than rudely BYPASSING all of the descriptions and disclaimers
   that would otherwise be required.
or
1. The web site provides FREE access to the story without restriction
   (including, but not limited to, 'registration' or charging a fee),
2. The link title includes enough description to allow readers to decide
   to avoid the story if they wouldn't like it, and
3. The reader is required to SEE, if not read, the full disclaimers and
   description prior to deciding whether to read the story, just like it
   is on http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/GeorgiePorgie/www
4. The story is archived unaltered, either by addition or deletion.

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                               Rescuing Jenny

This fantasy involves a man and a seven-year-old girl playing and having
fun, mostly in a non-sexual way but with sexual overtones, and only in
the third chapter, the girl telling him what numerous boys did to her:
bondage, humiliation, spanking, and (a very rare occurance in my
stories) one brief 'golden shower' (ugh) and death-threat episode.
Hopefully, the bondage and abuse will not be too distressing for people
reading it for the romance, but if you feel it's necessary to skip that,
continue with chapter four without missing too much.  This story is not
typical of my other stories, and differs in many significant ways. For
one thing, in this story, the girl actually does get rescued, because
she's lucky enough to find someone who cares about her enough to take
the serious risk of helping her.

                       Chapter 1: Meeting in the Park

Two strangers meet and play together in a park, and decide to go to
his place for safety.

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                               Rescuing Jenny

                              by Georgie Porgie
                              12 February 1993



                       Chapter 1: Meeting in the Park

     I went to the park after work, hoping to find someone interesting to
watch.  I took along my camera, in case she was interesting enough to be
worth capturing on film.  At first I was disappointed.  The only people I
saw at the park were some men jogging, a couple of women on the tennis
courts, and some boys playing on the swings.

     Then, there she was, landing at the base of the tunnel slide,
     wearing a
very pretty white dress.  The sun shone on her face from behind me and,
with
her legs asprawl from the landing, also on her light pink panties.  Her
long
golden hair hung halfway down her back, and waved in the gentle breeze of
her movement as she quickly stood.  She had long white ribbons tied into
her
hair on each side, and frilly white ankle socks.  You could almost say
she
was dressed for church, except for the scuffed pink girlish running shoes
on
her feet.

     I quickly looked around to see who was with her, but no one seemed
     to
be paying any attention to her at all except me.  I raised my camera and
got
a couple of quick shots of her with the sun illuminating her beautiful
hair
and slender body.  She turned toward me and headed for the
merry-go-round,
and I put my camera out of sight quickly.  I didn't think she'd noticed
me
aiming it at her.  She might not mind me taking pictures, but I didn't
know
that, and I didn't want to upset her if I could help it.

     Wandering apparently aimlessly toward the merry-go-round, I kept
watching her out of the corner of my eye, while also checking for anyone
else with any interest in her.  I finally turned and walked up to the
merry-go-round and spoke to her.

     "Want a push?"

     "Sure, mister, thanks!" she answered, and gave me a warm smile, an
astonishingly beautiful smile like only little girls have.  I smiled
back.

     I ran once around the merry-go-round, taking the opportunity to
     survey
the rest of the park, for safety, then hopped on it in front of her.  Her
dress flapped up in the wind as she leaned back on her arms, legs
sprawling
wide.  I stole glances at her panties, especially at the little double
mound
outlining her pussy.

     "What's your name?" I asked her, now gazing at her sparkling brown
     eyes
and her slightly freckled cheeks.

     "Jenny," she replied.  "What's yours?"

     "Kenny," I lied.  "What about that, our names are only different by
the first letter!  How old are you, Jenny?" I asked, already guessing the
answer.

     "Seven," she told me, confirming my hunch.  I was rarely wrong about
girls from four to ten years old.  I could usually guess a girl's age to
within a few months, and I guessed Jenny was seven and a half.

     "My name is really Jennifer," she said mischievously.  "Can I call
you Kennifer?"  She started giggling, I started laughing, my heart felt
happier because of her silly little joke.

     "You can call me Kenneth if you want to."  Well, that wasn't exactly
     a
lie, but I was still deceiving her.  I hated doing that, but until I knew
she wasn't going to go home and tell her parents she met a strange man in
the park, I didn't dare tell her my real name.  Damn this society I live
in,
for forcing me to be dishonest with her.

     "Is it ok if I take a few pictures of you?  They might even be
     printed
in the newspaper."  Sure they would, if I got arrested, maybe.  I ran
once
more around the merry-go-round to keep it spinning, and hopped back on. 
I
still didn't see anyone else watching her.

     She giggled and gave her consent, and I took a few close-ups of her
smiling face and a few of wider angles, while she mugged the camera for
me.
Her dress was still blown back, letting her panties show, but I didn't
want
any close-ups of her pussy unless I could take them without embarassing
her.
I wanted more pictures of her, but I still didn't feel quite safe there
in
the park with her, so I put the camera back down, and sat watching her.

     She noticed me stealing quick glances toward her pussy, and didn't
     seem
to mind at first, but eventually turned her legs away from me.  A little
bit
of modesty, then, but not too much.  Just the right amount, I'd say.  I
gave
the merry-go-round another push and hopped back on, behind her this time.

     "Are you ticklish?" I asked, and without waiting for a reply I
     started
tickling her tummy on both sides.  She giggled and twisted to escape me,
and
finally stood up and came around behind me and tickled me.  We were both
laughing like anything as we tickled each other.  I jumped off the
slowing
merry-go-round and she chased me.  I led her toward the climbing bars,
which
were screened from the tennis courts by a thick hedge, where I again let
her catch me, and we tickled each other awhile longer.  I fell to the
grass
and she sat on my stomach, both of us laughing and gasping to recover our
breath.

     "That will teach you to tickle ME!" she declared.  I lay panting,
charmed by the sight of her smiling face framed against the blue sky by
the
tree branches.  I enjoyed the touch of her legs around my body, her
slight
weight pressing on my cock, the occasional glance I took at her panties. 
I
took her hands in mine and held them, smiling up at her as she smiled
down
at me victoriously.

     Suddenly, she leaned down, pressed her lips to mine in a quick kiss,
jumped up and ran into the middle of the climbing bars.  She began
climbing
rapidly, showing evidence of much practice in the art, besides what else
she
was showing as she raised each leg to the next bar.

     Naturally I followed, getting under her but not climbing the bars,
     and
asked her quietly, "Why did you do that, Jenny?  That was nice."

     "Because I like you, Kenny," she whispered back, and kept climbing
     even
higher.

     "I like you a lot, too, Jenny.  I think you're really nice.  I'd
     like
you to do that again, if you want to."

     She hesitated near the top, looking down at me.  I looked up at her
beautiful body, from that angle no longer hidden under her dress.  I
turned
my camera skyward and clicked a picture, hoping for luck.

     "I would but I don't want you to get in trouble from my mommy," she
finally stated.

     I pondered that for awhile, and replied "Don't worry, I promise I
     won't
tell, and no one will know unless you tell them.  I'll be your friend,
and
friends never tell on each other, right?"

     She climbed down to the lowest bar, where her her eyes were level
     with
mine, and embraced me.  I put my arms around her and hugged her, gently
at
first, but tighter and tighter as she squeezed me with all her might.  We
kissed again, her lips on mine, and I rocked her slowly from side to
side,
caressing her back and her shoulders.  When she let go, I was surprised
to
see tears in her eyes.

     "Why are you crying?" I asked her, alarmed.  "Did I hurt you?  I
     didn't
mean to hurt you!  Are you ok?"

     "I'm ok," she reassured me, still crying softly.  "I just wish I had
     a
daddy again.  No one ever kisses me anymore."

     "What happened to your daddy, Jenny?" I asked, gently carrying her
     from
the climbing bars to a bench by the hedge.  "Did he die?"

     "No, worse," she sniffled.  "Mommy made him leave.  She had some
policemen come and take him away.  I hate policemen!  I hate them!  I
hate
them!  I hate them!  I hate Mommy too!"  The ferocity of her anger was
appalling.

     "I feel the same way, about the police I mean," I whispered to her,
"but why did she want policemen to take your daddy away?"

     "She doesn't want anyone to love me," Jenny cried.  "It was right
     after
she found us kissing in the bathtub, right after they got married.  She
got
real mad, and made him let go of me and get out of the bathtub, and then
she
got really really REALLY mad and said a lot of words to him that she hits
me
for saying.  He didn't hit her for saying them, he just stood there and
let
her yell.  I think he was crying a little.  I was crying too, because of
all
the bad things Mommy was saying.  Then she had some policemen come and
take
him away, and I never saw my daddy again after that.  They wouldn't let
me
hug him before they took him away, either."

     "Is your mother here with you at the park?" I queried anxiously.

     "No, but she's probably looking for me.  I was supposed to go to my
babysitter's house after school, but I ran away instead.  I'm glad I came
here, or I wouldn't have met you, Kenny."

     I cradled her in my arm and stroked her cheek, holding her on my
     lap.
"I'm glad you did, too, Jenny.  But why didn't you go to your babysitter
like you usually do?"

     "Because he lets the boys he babysits do anything to me they want,
     and
he never stops them.  They tie me up, or handcuff me, and hurt me. 
Usually
they take my clothes off me to make me be bare and naked, too.  Mr.
Carter
never cares, he just yells at me to stop screaming or he'll come in and
give
me something to scream about.  One time I kept screaming, hoping he would
come in and see what they were doing to me and make them stop.  But when
he came in and saw them hurting me, he just laughed.  He said the boys
had
saved him the trouble of spanking me for screaming so much.  Then he went
back to watching TV, or whatever he does.  The boys started to hurt me
worse
after that, and for some reason there are more of them there when I wear
a
dress to school, so that's why I ran away today."  Jenny cried through
the
whole story, as I listened silently, feeling angry and helpless.

     I kissed away her tears and hugged her gently until she was calm.

     "When did you start going to that babysitter?" I asked her.

     "Right after the police took Daddy away," she told me, "He used to
     stay
with me after school, and we always played together until Mommy got home.
No one ever plays with me anymore, either.  I wish I had a daddy again.
Mommy said I had to have a babysitter near home who would spank me if I
was
naughty, so she sent me to Mr. Carter.  But he only spanks me when the
boys
make me be naughty.  The boys say they spank me because they like to see
me
cry and struggle."

     "Have you told your mother?" I asked, without much hope.  From the
sounds of it, the bitch that Jennifer lived with was as nasty to her as
the
boys at her babysitter's.

     "I did the first time, but she just spanked me and said she doesn't
want to hear any complaints.  She can't pay for a babysitter, and she
said
she doesn't have to pay Mr. Carter any money for me to go there."  Jenny
sobbed into my shirt and added, "I don't want to go back there, ever!"

     "I'm so sorry," I soothed her, kissing away the tears that flowed as
she told her story.  I tried to think of some way I could rescue her, but
every choice led to a jail cell for me, with more pain at the hands of my
"fellow" criminals the likely result.  If her mother had called the
police,
and if I was seen holding her in this park, I'd go straight back to jail,
and Jenny would go straight back to her babysitter's wolf pack.

     She was crying again, and I decided that talking to her here was too
dangerous.  I couldn't just walk away from her, my heart wouldn't let me.
I decided to take a big chance, one that could destroy my life.

     "Jenny, we can't really talk here.  Like you said, I might get in
trouble from your mommy.  But I want to keep talking to you.  I care
about
you.  I love you.  Maybe even as much as your daddy does.  But if your
mommy
called the police to get them to help find you, they might take me away
like
they did your daddy.  You don't want them to do that, do you?"

     She shook her head.

     "Good.  Is it ok if I take you to my home where we can talk as long
as we want, where the police and your mommy won't be able to find you?" 
I
already knew her answer before she nodded.  "Ok.  I want you to go to the
street that way where the cars are parked and find the red car with the
bumper sticker that has a red heart with a white question mark inside it.
The rest of it says 'Have you hugged your kid today?' and if you can read
it, that's great.  But remember the heart, and wait for me where you can
see
the red car but no one can see you.  Will you do that?"

     "Yes, but please hurry, Kenny.  I don't want the police to take you
away too."

     'Believe me, Jenny, I'm more worried about it than you are,' I
thought to myself.

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      This and other stories by Georgie Porgie can be found at:
                http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/GeorgiePorgie/www
-- 
  Georgie Porgie
  georgieporgie@fastmail.fm

-- 
http://www.fastmail.fm - Accessible with your email software
                          or over the web

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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