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From: Rufus Fugit <rufusfugit@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Jenny's Couch, part 20 (Mg, Fg, ped, mast, oral, prost, humil, forced-exhib, autovoyeurism, dissociative mental states) by Rufus Fugit
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Date: Thu, 10 May 2007 12:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Jenny's Couch20.txt" begin>

This is an erotic story featuring adults and children.  If you don't want
to read such a thing, don't.  If it's illegal for you to read it whoever
and wherever you are, I don't really care.  Don't read it, or don't get
caught.  Either way, that's your problem.

   This is my story.  It may be freely distributed and reposted to free
sites, or the free areas of pay sites, so long as authorship is properly
credited and these introductory paragraphs are included.  If you can find
someone silly enough to pay you for this story and you steal it for that
purpose, well, mazel tov and fuck you.

   This story is F-I-C-T-I-O-N.  No actual children or adults or anything
were involved in its production.  What part of "made up" don't you
understand?  Intelligent feedback gratefully accepted at rufusfugit at
yahoo dot com.  Stupid feedback and flames to /dev/null.

   This and other stories available at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/rufusfugit.

   Jenny's Couch, part 20 (Mg, Fg, ped, mast, oral, prost, humil,
forced-exhib, autovoyeurism, dissociative mental states) by Rufus Fugit

   I pulled Moira's car into a space at the far end of the busy parking
lot. It was a behemoth, a late-60s vintage Chevrolet Impala in an advanced
state of decrepitude.  The padded dash was crumbling.  The seats were
cracked and spilling yellowed foam, crisscrossed with several generations
of duct tape.  The head liner had been torn out completely.  The muffler
was only a memory.  The engine choked into silence, belching out one final
cloud of blue smoke.

   All four windows were rolled down.  Renee was on her knees next to me on
the wide bench seat, arms braced against the dash.  The car had no
seatbelts and riding unrestrained was a novelty for the third-grader.  I
had my arm wrapped around her, hand pressed against her bare midriff.  My
fingers had crept under her tankini top, and I was gently massaging one
chubby breastlet.

   In the back seat, Karen was breathing heavily.  Her head rested against
the seatback, eyes half-closed.  Her back was arched, pointing her
barely-developed chest at the sky.  Her flip-flops lay on the dirty floor
mat beneath her dangling bare feet.  Her swimsuit was a damp wad between
them.  She was naked.

   It had taken Moira very little time to strip the blonde eleven-year-old
once we got into the car.  As soon as we had settled into our seats she'd
had her fingers working inside the crotch of Karen's suit, eliciting soft
gasps and moans from the aroused preteen.  Before long she had Karen
teetering on the edge of orgasm - and there she held her.  I thought I knew
Karen's body and its responses, but Moira was a woman and she knew from the
inside exactly how to bring a little girl right up to the brink and pull
her back, over and over.  Before long, dazed but compliant, Karen allowed
herself to be stripped, spreading her legs and arms to let the hot wind
blowing through the open car windows bathe her sweating body.  She'd felt a
quick spurt of fear and a flush of embarrassment as her nipples first
popped free from the wet spandex, but she told herself that fear was for
little girls.  A whore loves to be naked and so she defied the fear with a
trembling smile and opened her legs wide on the seat.  Her one concession
to the little girl was to slump down so that her chin was level with the
top of the door.  From that vantage she looked over at the people in the
passing cars.  They saw only a little girl's smiling face, not a naked
whore with a grown woman fingering her sopping wet babycunt.

   "Ohhh...ohhh...ohhh," she moaned now as she felt Moira's finger moving
gently inside her.  In the sudden quiet as the engine died we could all
hear the squishing, sliding sound it made.  Karen's thighs were shiny with
her juices.  She had leaked a sticky puddle onto the cracked duct tape
beneath her skinny bare ass.  The tuft of fine blonde pubic fuzz adorning
the top of her mons was matted with cream.  Her clitoris was obscenely
swollen, standing up and begging for more attention now that the car had
stopped and hot air no longer moved across it.  Sweat beaded her torso,
running down between her puffy, dark-flushed nipples.  The harsh sunlight
highlighted the fine hairs on her upper lip and her jawline and painted red
starbursts on the inside of her closed eyelids.  "Nuh...oooo!" she
exclaimed as she felt Moira's finger leave her channel one last time,
curling as it withdrew.  Then she felt something nudge against her lips and
without opening her eyes, she parted them and sucked it in.  Her own tangy
flavor flooded her mouth as without thinking she slid her tongue over and
around Moira's slimy digit as if it were a penis.  There was a time when
the little girl was revolted by her own smell and taste, but the whore
didn't care.  The whore didn't care about anything but the burning need
between her thighs, the throbbing of her pulse in her engorged pleasure
button.

   Moira's finger slid out of Karen's mouth, and her hand trailed casually
down the fifth-grader's sweaty torso.  Karen jumped and gulped as Moira
tweaked each stiff, dark-pink nipple.  Then she shivered as Moira gently
nibbled at her earlobe and whispered, "Open your eyes, you cute little
whore.  We're here."

   I had turned around in my seat to watch Moira molest my eleven-year-old
niece.  Renee turned around too and knelt on the seat with her arms crossed
over the seatback.  I made a soft noise in my throat and pressed myself
awkwardly against Renee's kneeling form.  My cock was stiff and hot inside
my board shorts and the sight of her older sister nude in the back seat
further inflamed me.  Karen's labia were puffy and gleamed wetly.  Her slit
was open wide and still oozing creamy goo onto the seat.  She tilted her
head forward and opened glassy eyes.  She looked around vaguely and one
hand reached out slowly, groping for the door handle.

   "Hang on, kid, aren't you forgettin' something?" Moira grabbed Karen's
hand and held it.  Karen looked around, taking in her younger sister's
expressionless gaze and my smirk, then looked down at herself.  Her blue
eyes slowly swam into focus and I saw the bright blush paint her face and
spread down her chest as she realized she had been about to step out of the
car completely heedless of her nudity.  The familiar mixture of shame,
stabs of pleasure and a trembly, fluttery feeling in her stomach washed
over her in hot waves.  Her cheeks flamed as memories flashed through her
mind of herself naked outside: kneeling in the schoolyard with her lips
just touching my penis for the first time, then on her back on a cold stone
bench with a cock spurting hot cum in her mouth and another splitting her
tender pussy.  "Oooh," she moaned involuntarily, writhing slightly in the
puddle of her juice slicking the ruined vinyl upholstery.

   Moira winked at me then spoke to Renee, eyes dancing.  "We gotta get
your big sister fucked quick or she's gonna explode." Karen scooted
forward, grimacing as her butt slid in her syrupy cunt cream, and worked
her flip-flops back onto her feet.  But then she looked in dismay at the
wet tangle of her swimsuit on the dirty floor mat.  "Here, put this on,"
Moira said as she shrugged out of her white shirt and held it out. 
"That'll cover you up well enough for us to buy some whorin' clothes for
you."

   The parking lot was paved in fresh black asphalt and it was viciously
hot under the early afternoon sun.  The air shimmered above the blacktop.
Karen and Renee walked hand-in-hand ahead of Moira and me.  Karen's knees
were a little wobbly, and I could see her ears and the back of her neck
were still pink with embarrassment.  The tails of the man-sized shirt fell
to mid-thigh front and back but the sides exposed her rather high on her
hips.  Between that and the way her titties poked out the soft fabric a
person might speculate what the child was wearing underneath it - but it
was tightly-woven enough that a person could only speculate.  Of course if
a person looked really closely a person could see shiny runnels of wetness
on the insides of her thighs.

   Watching the children's cute behinds I recalled the last time Karen had
been pantiless in a hot parking lot and reflected on how far she had come.
That was the day I had called her a whore for the first time and she had
reacted with anger and tears.  She hadn't even had a cock in her mouth at
that point, let alone in her tight, virgin snatch.  Now here she was just
months later, barely halfway through the fifth grade, eagerly looking
forward to prostituting herself on on a public beach.

   When we reached the road I took Renee's hand and Moira took Karen's to
cross.  Once we got up on the boardwalk it was much cooler, with a brisk
salt breeze coming off the water.  We stood for a moment just looking out
over the ocean while Moira fished her cigarettes out of her purse and lit
one.  The beach was crowded, mostly with young people along this section.
There were several volleyball games going on, rows and rows of
highschoolers and college kids basting themselves on chairs and blankets,
and a busy weight pad a ways down to our right.  "Y'all can go get some ice
cream," Moira said, pointing at a shop a few dozen yards up the boardwalk,
"while we get Karen a nice fuck-me outfit." Without waiting for discussion
she took the blonde's hand and pulled her off in the other direction,
towards a garishly-decorated storefront with hip-hop blaring from the open
doors.  Karen looked back anxiously at me and her little sister but Moira
jerked at her arm and hurried her along.  Her long single braid swung back
and forth as she half-trotted to keep up.

   I put down a sinfully elaborate banana-split concoction on a table at
the edge of the boardwalk and Renee and I sat down to share it.  Renee ate
sweets with her whole body.  She wiggled, she bounced in her chair, she
kicked her sandal-shod feet and in the process got plenty of the confection
on her face, her swimsuit, and her cute, tan bare belly.  I was still
somewhat distracted with the memory of her big sister, naked and dazed and
spread open in the back seat.  With that as a catalyst, just the sight of
Renee's little pink toes peeking out of her Finding Nemo sandals had me
half-hard, for Chrissake.  My nipples crinkled as the breeze fluttered my
linen shirt against my chest.

   Renee's voice snapped me out of my erotic reverie.  "What's wrong with
Moira?" Her hazel eyes were brilliant in the sun as she looked up at me
expectantly.  She wiped her face on her arm, smearing chocolate across
both.

   "What do you mean?" I temporized, gathering my thoughts.

   "She hit Karen!  But she was all nice, and then she was mean, and then
she was nice again, but even when she's nice she's scary, I mean..." Her
voice trailed off.  Most adults never looked past Moira's cheerful
party-girl veneer (and those impressively perky tits), but children tended
to have better bullshit detectors.  Even if she was too young and
inexperienced to fully articulate what bothered her, Renee was too
perceptive to be fooled.  It was one of the qualities I most respected and
loved in the nine-year-old.

   "Hmm.  Well, when she told us how she started sexing with her daddy when
she was seven?  Did you notice, she told us all about what happened, but
she didn't tell us how she felt about what happened?" Renee frowned in
thought, digging her spoon around in the dish as she tried to parse my
question.  "I think seven is maybe too little to be a whore, at least too
little to know for sure if you are one.  I think maybe she didn't really
want to be a whore, but she loved her daddy and she wanted to make him
happy so she did stuff with him anyway.  Think about how you'd feel if
Daddy asked you to do something that felt bad, but he asked you please,
please, pretty-please.  You might do it to make him happy or just 'cause he
told you to, but you'd be mad at him after.  But it's hard to be mad at
your daddy because you love him and besides you need him to take care of
you and stuff.  So - this is kinda confusing, I know - she got mad at
herself for being mad at him.  And now she's maybe a little bit mad at
herself all the time." I was leaning on my elbows now, head down almost
nose-to-nose with my preteen lover.  Renee's mouth was twisted in
concentration.  Her eyes were wide.  In this light they looked almost
green. The intensity of her gaze was startling in a child, if you didn't
know Renee.

   "So maybe," she said slowly, "Karen reminds her of her 'cause she's a
little-girl whore too, and she can be mad at Karen because it's easier than
being mad at herself?"

   "Wow." I sat up.  "That's exactly what I think.  You are a very, very
smart little girl.  That's one of the reasons I love you so much." I was
rewarded with a rare smile, and I continued, "But Moira's a good person. 
And whatever happened when she was little, she's definitely a whore now and
Karen needs her help.  Karen has to learn how to find boys to fuck on her
own or she'll be unhappy all the time, and Moira's going to show her.  I
try to keep her from getting mad, but I don't always get it right."

   Renee broke my gaze and looked down, stirring her spoon aimlessly
through the melting ice cream.  "Maybe Moira's daddy was mean to her. 
Maybe she didn't want to fuck at all when she was nine, but he made her."
She looked back up at me, then away shyly.  "I don't think I want to fuck
yet," she continued softly.  "Karen's bigger, and she still said it hurt a
lot when you put your thingy in her the first time."

   I scooted my chair over so I could put my arm around the girl's tan,
warm shoulder.  I pulled her into a hug, caressing her cheek with my other
hand, then bent and planted a gentle kiss on the two tiny moles at her
delicate jawline.  I tasted skin and suntan lotion and chocolate ice cream.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw an elderly woman smile as she passed by
this show of what appeared to be fatherly affection.  I whispered into
Renee's ear, "I love you even if we never fuck.  I'll never make you do
anything you don't want to.  Karen has to learn stuff, so sometimes I make
her.  But," I kissed her cheek again, "you're my lover, not my whore. 
Okay?" Her brown hair tickled my nose as she nodded, and I straightened up.


   "Hey, look, here they come!" I followed where Renee pointed and saw
Karen and Moira walking towards us.  Karen was barefoot now; I presumed her
flip-flops were in the shopping bag Moira held.  She was carrying her white
shirt over her arm.  She pulled Karen along by one hand and the preteen was
again half-trotting to keep up with her brisk stride.  Karen was wearing a
bikini, fairly close in color to the sky-blue of the one-piece suit she had
left the house in.  It was skimpy, though not outrageously so for a child
of her age.  Moira had also undone Karen's braid and her waist-length hair
fell in thick golden waves over her shoulders and flowed down her bare
back.

   When they reached us Moira drew up an empty chair from another table and
plopped down into it, lighting a cigarette as Karen stood before us
awkwardly, with the toes of one foot resting on the other.  Her hands
wandered in the air, like she wanted to cover herself but had been warned
not to.  She was breathing a little heavily and I could see two small pink
smudges on her cheeks.  She'd been outside wearing less before, but never
in full daylight and full public view.  So was she embarrassed or aroused?
Unless I missed my guess the answer was "both".  Up close I could see that
the swatches of fabric covering her pubescent titties and her mound were
not a solid color.  The bikini was definitely made for sunning, not
swimming.  It was crocheted from white, pale blue, and dark blue yarn.  The
weave was fairly tight but you could still see her skin tone plainly
beneath it.  If you looked really close you could see the darker shade of
her areolae where the two triangles on her chest poked out.  And down
below...  "No way!" I exclaimed.

   Moira lost a lungful of cigarette smoke in a snort of laughter.  "Yes,
way!" Where the bikini bottom curved under between Karen's skinny thighs,
one of the spaces in the crochet work had been enlarged to maybe the
diameter of my little fingernail, and poking out of it was a tiny red nub.
Glancing around to make sure we were unobserved for the moment, I brought
my thumb and finger together quickly to pinch it.  It was hot and slippery.
Karen made a stifled noise that sounded like "eep!" and stepped backwards,
blushing furiously.  "Yes, way!" Moira repeated.  "Karen, tell your uncle
what you have there."

   Now there was no question that Karen's flush was from humiliation.  She
hung her head and half-whispered what Moira had obviously rehearsed her to
say.  "That's my clitty.  It's sticking out 'cause I'm a whore, and I...I
need...cock!"

   I could barely hear the last word.  Karen flinched when I responded in
full voice, "There's no doubt you'll get plenty, sweetie." Turning to
Moira, I said, "What's your plan?"

   "Well, how 'bout this?  You take your cute little buttfuck there to the
carnival and ride some rides or something, and me 'n' Karen'll walk down
the beach past all those cute hunky guys.  I'll call you in an hour, hour
and a half or so after Karen's made herself some money."

   "Sounds good," I said.  I tossed the remains of our banana split in the
trash then took Renee's hand and we headed off down the boardwalk.

   Karen watched us go with a sinking feeling.  Moira was beautiful, and
she was being nice to her now but Karen's cheek still stung with the memory
of the slap that had come out of nowhere and the torrent of verbal abuse
that followed it.  When Moira had started roughly pinching and rubbing her
clitoris in the store's fitting room she had been almost too scared to
move. Moira hadn't explained what she was doing as she worked the slippery,
hot little button of flesh through the hole she'd enlarged in the new
swimsuit.  Now the rough fabric rubbed and pulled at her with every step.
She had to stop twice during the short walk down to the sand as her vision
blurred and her knees threatened to give way from the intolerably
pleasurable friction.  But Moira had also asked her - "asked" with a scary
hard look in her eyes - not to have an orgasm yet, and she dared not.

   Karen was red-faced and panting when Moira finally plopped down onto the
warm white sand.  Karen sat next to her.  She spread her legs wide,
pressing the soles of her feet together and leaning back on her elbows,
unconsciously seeking the warmth of the sun on her twitching, burning clit.
So focused was she on the unwanted pleasure radiating from between her legs
that she missed Moira's first few words.  "...you can tell the ones who are
really interested, because they won't look away.  Their eyes'll follow you.
Now, it's harder when you're a little kid 'cause it ain't legal and the
guys who're interested in baby pussy will be tryin' not to get caught.  But
once you've practiced a bit you can usually pick 'em out 'cause they're
tryin' so hard to look like they ain't lookin', if you get what I mean.

   "So here's what we're gonna do.  We're gonna take a little walk down
past where those guys are lifting weights and hangin' out, and you're gonna
watch for the ones that look at you all hungry-like.  I guarantee there's
gonna be at least a couple.  I'm gonna be watchin' too and when we get all
the way down to those picnic tables we'll sit down and compare notes. 
Here, put these on." Moira dug in her purse and came out with a pair of
mirrored sunglasses.  "Watch out of the corner of your eyes.  Don't let 'em
see you lookin' back at 'em, not yet anyway.  You understand?" Karen nodded
dumbly.  It was hard to focus on Moira, she was concentrating so hard on
controlling the shivers emanating from between her legs - but the more she
fought it the harder it was to ignore.  She could feel her babycunt
leaking, feel the fabric getting damp and clinging to her irritated inner
lips.  She got to her feet, almost staggering and suppressing a groan as
the fabric pinched and tugged at her captive clitty.  She fumbled the
sunglasses onto her face.  Moira put a hand in the small of her back and
gave her a gentle shove.  "Go on now.  I'll stay a few steps behind so we
can tell who's lookin'' at you and not me.  Hey!  Walk like this, with one
foot right in front of the other," she said, demonstrating a runway model
walk.  "It'll make your butt sway all sexy."

   It was the longest walk Karen had ever taken.  Within ten steps her
clitoris felt like it was on fire, but the prickling heat rapidly spread to
every inch of her skin.  It was like wading through hot honey.  Her limbs
were heavy.  Her nipples tingled and rubbed almost painfully against the
small triangles of fabric covering them.  She felt every wisp of breeze,
every rolling drip of sweat, nearly every photon of sunlight on her skin.
She wanted to sink to her knees, tear off her bikini bottoms, jam two
fingers into her babycunt and saw them in and out until she climaxed
screaming.  She hardly cared at this point if the entire beach saw her; it
was only force of will that kept her moving - that, and fear of what Moira
would do.

   There were so many men.  Tall men, short men - though even the short
ones were mostly taller than the slender fifth-grader - skinny men, fat
men, blond hair, brown hair, white skin, black skin, yellow skin, brown
skin.  She watched their faces covertly as she strolled slowly past, but
the thought came unbidden, "I wonder what their penises look like?" She
remembered the first penis she had ever seen, her uncle's, spitting sticky
goo all over her little sister's face.  She'd been horrified, then.  "Now
I'm whore-ified," she thought, and a soft laugh tinged with bitterness rose
to her lips.

   Somehow she made it to the cluster of picnic tables.  She collapsed onto
the wooden bench, grimacing.  Her bikini bottoms were saturated with her
juices and she swore that if she breathed deeply she could smell herself.
She looked down.  Cunt cream had dried in long, shiny streaks on the
insides of her thighs, reaching almost to her knees.  Her clitoris was
hidden by the curve of her mons when she stood, but as she squeezed her
legs together it was plainly visible as a bright red dot at the peak of her
slit which was itself clearly outlined by the wet fabric.  It looked almost
sunburned.

   "Well?" Moira asked, sitting down across from her.  "Didja see them?"

   "I saw one?" Karen answered uncertainly.  "The guy with all the muscles,
lifting weights like this?" She mimed a squat, raising her arms to
shoulder-level as if holding a bar balanced behind her neck.

   "That's good, he was one of them, but you don't ever wanna go with a
bodybuilder nut like that.  You know why?" Karen shook her head.  "They
don't get all bulgy like that without they're taking steroids.  You know
what those are?" Another shake.  "They're drugs that make their muscles
swell.  But they also make their dicks shrink up and stop getting hard, and
makes 'em get mad real easy.  So you get naked with the guy, he's got a
tiny dick and it won't work, he freaks out and blames you and he's strong
enough to pinch your head off with two fingers.  Believe me, it's a bad
scene." Moira's eyes clouded as she spoke even though her tone was light.
Karen felt a reluctant surge of sympathy for the woman, sympathy and
gratitude.  As she was learning, it wasn't easy to be a whore.

   "You did good, but I saw two others guys that're better choices." Moira
pointed discreetly, turning her shoulder to shield her hand from her
targets.  "That Chinese kid in the lifeguard trunks, and that old guy
sitting on the wall pretending to read the paper.  So, which one do ya
wanna do?"

   Karen caught her breath as she realized, really realized, what she was
doing.  She was going to ask a total stranger to fuck.  No, to pay her to
fuck.  Fear thrilled along her arms and legs.  "I..." she tried to speak,
but nothing came out.

   "Oh, no, you ain't backin' out.  Your uncle told me you might get cold
feet, but I ain't gonna let you." Moira leaned forward until her eyes, dark
and intense, filled Karen's vision.  She wanted to look away but she
couldn't.  "I know how it is, it's scary, but you need this." Karen jumped
as she felt Moira's hand sliding up her thigh under the table.  There was a
pause and then she nearly fainted as she felt one feather-light fingertip
just brush back and forth across her exposed clitty.  Her body went rigid
and she jammed her toes deep into the sand.  A series of sharp,
high-pitched moaning gasps forced themselves out between her gritted teeth
as Moira gently flicked her finger against Karen's straining button.  A
fresh surge of hot juice squished out of her, further drenching the fabric
of her suit.  "You need this," Moira repeated heavily.  "Doncha?"

   And Moira pulled her hand back, and Karen knew she was right.  She knew
from the way her hips twitched involuntarily forward, trying to restore the
contact.  She knew from the hours spent desperately masturbating in her
bedroom, from the climaxes that only left her wanting more, from the
memories of hot cocks thrusting into her tight, bald slit, from the way her
face got hot when she remembered the gooey, cloying feel of semen clogging
her throat.  She needed it, and she had to do it alone.  No one could help
her, not her uncle, not Renee, not her mommy or daddy, not even Moira.  And
she could.  She could because the whore was taking over, ruthlessly
crushing down her fear, banishing all other thoughts from her head.  Her
face tightened and she met Moira's intense gaze.  "The lifeguard guy.  I'm
going to fuck him."

   Karen was trembling as she walked back towards the man she had picked,
but from excitement rather than fear.  The whore was in control now, and it
was like all Karen had to do was go along for the ride.  She was wearing
Moira's shirt again over her bikini, but it was unbuttoned and knotted high
on her hip.  The man was pretending not to watch her as she approached.  He
turned his head like he was scanning the beach, but Karen could see the way
his black eyes lingered on her.  He was an average-sized man, well-muscled
with a smooth, hairless chest.  He was wearing the red trunks that served
for a lifeguard's uniform on this beach, but he was clearly off-duty,
lounging against the blank wall of a concrete block building just in the
shadow of the boardwalk.  He had a pleasant face with round cheeks and
small, even teeth.  As she drew near and looked up at him she could see he
was older than she had thought at first.  He had little wrinkles at the
corners of his eyes, the kind grownups got when they smiled a lot.

   This was it.  She walked up really close to the man and stopped.  He
smelled nice.  Like suntan oil, and aftershave, and something that Karen
just thought of as male.  She looked up into his eyes, shifting awkwardly
from foot to foot.  "Hi," she said, her voice breaking.  She cleared her
throat.  "My name's Karen."

   The man seemed to have trouble speaking, too.  He coughed a little
before saying, "Hi, Karen." He got a weird, frozen expression on his face,
almost scared.  Karen couldn't understand why a grownup would be scared of
her.  "My name's Jim."

   "Umm...do you think I'm pretty, Mister Jim?" Adding the honorific was
automatic, from years of her parents emphasizing the importance of
politeness.  The man looked at her like he didn't understand the question.
Maybe Moira was wrong.  Maybe he wasn't interested.  Maybe he'd laugh at
her, yell at her, call the police and have her arrested for being a whore.
Maybe...but no.  Karen didn't know Jim yet, but she knew penises and she
could see his was getting stiff inside his swim trunks.  Karen opened her
mouth with no idea what was going to come out of it and the whore said, "Do
you wanna feel my boobies, Mister Jim?" Her feet took another step forward
so their bodies were almost touching.  She was looking right at one round,
brown nipple on his chest.  She tilted her head back to see Jim's eyes
widen in shock.

   Her heart was hammering in her chest and her stomach was doing
flip-flops.  "I can tell you wanna." Her hand lightly covered the bulge
that had formed in his trunks.  She pressed gently, rubbing her palm in
little circles and squeezing her fingertips around the top.

   Jim made a strangled noise in his throat.  Karen had a strange
half-smile on her face as if she was listening to someone Jim couldn't
hear, but there was no denying the concrete presence of her hand on his
penis.  This pretty blonde child had just walked up to him out of nowhere
and was now feeling his cock!  "What're you...what're you doing?" he gasped
out.

   "I'm touching your penis, Mister Jim," Karen answered matter-of-factly.
"Will you please touch my boobies now?  I really want you to.  C'mon, do
it!" Her high, childish voice took on a hard edge, almost commanding.  Jim
watched his hand come up like it belonged to someone else and gently rub
against one of the points barely pushing out her white shirt.  He felt the
stiff, rubbery flesh through the fabric, gently at first, then squeezed as
Karen moaned and leaned against him.  He looked down at the child in
wonder. She was a child - her straight figure, tiny nipples, and skinny
hips left no doubt about it - but she was beautiful and she was rubbing his
cock like a pro.

   Not just _like_ a pro, as her next words proved.  "Do you want to fuck
me, Mister Jim?" Karen spoke into his chest.  "For twenty dollars you can
fuck me as hard as you want." Karen felt him jump as if electrified.  His
fingers jerked her nipple, salting the pleasure with a little spike of pain
that seemed to travel straight down through her fluttering belly to her
leaking babycunt.  "Please, Mister Jim, take me somewhere and fuck me.  I
know how, I'm good at it, I promise, I can suck your cock and
everything..." Karen knew she shouldn't be begging, she should be
demanding, but the feel of Jim's cock beneath her hand, his warm skin
pressed against her, was almost too much.  Her entire body was tingling
with need and she realized that she was almost crying.  If he turned her
down, she'd die, die right here on the beach.

   "Oh, God," Jim groaned, and then, "Yes." The child's long blonde hair
tickled his nose as he looked wildly around.  No one was paying them any
attention.  He grabbed Karen's upper arm and led her around the back of the
building.  There was a single blank door.  He fumbled a key out from the
inside pocket of his suit, opened it, pushed Karen inside and closed and
locked the door again behind them.

   Karen found herself in what appeared to be an old changing room
converted to storage.  The sun shone dimly through a dirty skylight and the
air was thick with dust.  There was a bank of lockers rusting against one
wall.  On the other she could see holes and capped pipes where toilets and
sinks had been removed.  There were some cardboard boxes stacked there now.
A scarred wooden bench ran down the middle of the room and there were
mirrors on the other two walls.  It was hot and stuffy and smelled musty.
Jim was just standing there, looking at her like he had no idea what to do
next.  In a flash, Karen remembered another room very much like this, the
janitor's office in the church where here uncle had stuck his fingers up
her for the first time, where he had taken her panties away from her.  She
remembered how helpless she had felt, scared and helpless and wanting it
and not wanting it and not knowing what was going to happen until her uncle
told her what to do.  She looked at Jim standing uncertainly in front of
the door.  "He's me," she thought, realizing that it was up to her to take
charge.  It was up to the whore.

   She grabbed Jim's hands and pulled the much larger man to the center of
the room, then pushed on his stomach.  He took a step backwards against the
bench, almost lost his balance and then sat down.  Karen dropped to her
knees in front of him.  The dirty tile floor felt gritty and rough.  She
realized she'd made a mistake by not pulling down his swimsuit first (the
whore noted that for next time).  She tugged on the waistband and Jim
raised his butt awkwardly until she was able to work it down his thighs.

   Karen froze for just a second as Jim's erect penis popped free of his
trunks and bounced up just inches from her nose.  "Ooo, it's a nice one,"
came out of her mouth automatically, but it was true.  It was thick but not
too long, smooth and kind of yellow like the rest of his skin.  He wasn't
hairy at all; there was a neat thatch of thick black curls just at the top
where the shaft sprouted from his body, and some fine, dark fuzz on his
scrotum.  The head was a darker red, and it throbbed and jumped with his
heartbeat.  Karen's left hand reached out and her fingers gently cupped his
wrinkled sack, feeling the hair and gently palpating the heavy balls
within. Jim jumped at the contact.  It was strange - she hadn't meant to do
that at all.  It was like she was just watching the whore do stuff now. 
Which was good, because the whore knew things the little girl couldn't
possibly.  If the little girl found herself alone in a locked room,
kneeling on the floor in front of a naked grownup that wanted to put his
penis inside her, she'd be screaming and crying and begging him not to. 
But the whore needed that penis inside her, needed it more than anything,
and no way she was going to let some crybaby kid mess it up.

   Karen watched with the same odd sense of detachment as her right hand
reached out and curled around Jim's thick shaft.  It felt hot, hard and
soft at the same time, and too large for her fingers and thumb to meet. 
She squeezed gently, and Jim groaned and clear liquid dribbled from the
slit and ran down on her fingers.  Karen looked up into his face and
slowly, slowly, brought her face down to the erect tool.  The smell of
precum and sweat filled her nostrils as her lips parted.  She almost
laughed at the wide-eyed shock on Jim's face as she sucked the head of his
penis into her mouth.  Shock turned to pleasure as she twirled her tongue
around the end and hummed gently.  Precum coated her tongue and she felt
the organ jump and twitch.  She smiled to herself; she knew she had him.

   Karen hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard, making a loud slurping sound
as the hot flesh popped free of her mouth.  She just held it for a second,
watching it wave and pulse in the air, then she stood up, stepped back, and
stuck out her hand, knuckles shiny with precum.  "Twenty dollars."

   Jim almost fell over grabbing at the swim trunks puddled around his
strong feet.  He fumbled at the inside pocket, came out with a small
crumple of bills, found two tens and held them out with a shaking hand. 
Karen took them and stuffed them in her shirt pocket.  "Thanks." She was
looking over his head at the mirror behind him, watching herself - watching
the whore - untie the knot at her hip and and let the white shirt fall
open, baring her stomach, tan and firm with a cute innie navel.  She pushed
her bikini top up, uncovering her nipples.  She played with them for a few
seconds, smiling into Jim's burning eyes as she tugged on the swollen
nubbins sprouting from her bony chest.  Then she grabbed her bikini bottoms
at both hips and pulled down.  She stifled a yelp as her clitty stretched
then snapped free of its binding.  The saturated fabric clung to the skin
of her soaking snatch, then pulled loose and landed on top of her thin
feet. She stepped forward and left the blue fabric wadded on the dirty
floor.

   She had to spread her legs really wide to fit them around Jim's hips. 
The bench was hard on her knees as she slid forward, trapping his cock
between their bodies.  His skin felt warm against hers.  She could feel his
heart beating and his breath against the hollow of her neck.  She lifted
herself slightly and wormed her hand down between them.  She adjusted his
cock, rubbing it up and down her slit until she felt the hot knob poke at
her opening.  Her skinny legs trembled with tension as she slowly sat.

   "AiiieeeEEEGH!" Karen groaned as the thick adult penis pushed into her,
stretching her labia and filling her juvenile vagina.  "Awww, JEEZ!" The
hot, stiff flesh invading her touched off a firestorm of pleasure, filling
not just her cunt but her entire body.  It was relief not just from the
long day's sexual frustration, not just the week since they got here or the
months since Hallowe'en, no, it felt like an entire lifetime of need was
dammed up inside her tight babycunt and Jim's cock burst the dam open.

   Karen's heart felt like it was going to burst right out of her chest. 
Jim's lips were moving but she could hear nothing but the blood roaring in
her ears.  She tucked her bare feet across his thighs.  She put her arms
around his neck and pulled herself up and sat down hard, her knees splaying
wide.  It felt like his cock was splitting her open, tearing her apart, but
the pain was pleasure and the pleasure was pain and she never wanted it to
end.  She did it again, and then once more, and then she exploded.  "Oh,
oh, no, nooo, nuh, nuh, NO, OH, AH, AIE!  AIEEE!  AIEEE!" Her orgasm
smashed into her like a boiling tidal wave.  Her entire body stiffened and
convulsed uncontrollably.  Jim yelped as her cunt clamped down on his
organ, rippling and writhing like a snake.  Her vision was filled with
brilliant starbursts.  Pubescent girl-cum squirted out of her overstuffed
cunny, pouring down Jim's shaft, coating his scrotum, and dripping onto the
dirty floor.

   Karen's spine arched and she started to fall backwards, but she felt
Jim's strong arms catch her.  His hands were warm on her back under her
shirt and he squeezed, crushing her thin frame belly-to-belly against him.
She dug her chin into his shoulder, wrapping her own arms around his
muscular swimmer's back and held on for dear life as her body was wracked
by orgasmic spasms that she feared - or hoped - would never stop.  "GAH! 
GAH!  GAH!" she yelped as each contraction forced the breath out of her,
forced everything out of her but pure pleasure.

   Finally, the orgasm subsided from crushing blows to wild, random
tremors. Karen's eyes opened to her reflection in the mirror.  Her face was
beet-red and tracked with tears.  Her blonde hair was matted with sweat. 
Then she focused beyond that, to the reflection from the mirror behind her
and she realized she was looking at herself from behind.  She could see
Jim's strong arms around her thin, tanned back.  His biceps were bigger
around than her thighs, she thought wonderingly.  Jim's cock was still
iron-hard inside her.  Groaning, she lifted herself up and sat back down,
watching how the muscles shifted in her back around the knobs of her spine.
She did it again.  The cheeks of her ass tensed and relaxed, the soles of
her feet and the round pads of her toes flexing and curling under her butt.
Her anus winked at her.  She saw how her inner lips clung to the
penetrating organ as she lifted up, gripping it and pulling down from her
body like they didn't want to let it go.  "Fuck me, Mister Jim," she moaned
as she ground her skinny eleven-year-old ass against his thighs.  "Fuck me,
fuck my babycunt, fuck your cock in me," she chanted as she rode the man
faster and faster.  "I'm a whore, I'm a whore, fuck my whore babycunt, fuck
it hard!" She screamed as Jim stiffened suddenly and thrust himself up,
squeezing the breath out of her with his arms, spreading her legs painfully
wide and stabbing into her overstuffed cunny.  She felt heat of his
ejacuation splashing against her immature cervix and that set her off
again. "Oh, oh, oh, OH, OHHH, JEEEEEEZ!" She screamed and convulsed as
another orgasm slammed into her.  Her vision went white and this time it
felt like her heart really did burst.

   There was a girl lying on the floor.  She was half-naked.  She had on a
white shirt, unbuttoned, and a bikini top askew on her nearly-flat chest.
One nipple was half-covered, the other completely exposed.  Her legs were
spread, bare feet turned outwards.  Her cunny gaped wide open, the lips red
and raw, the exposed tunnel a deeper red.  There was a pale froth of sex
juices spread all around the girl's vulva.  Semen seeped out of her in a
sluggish dribble, running down the girl's naked thighs and puddling on the
dirty floor underneath her butt.  Karen bent one knee and winced as her
thigh muscles protested.  The girl lying on the floor did the same thing,
and that's when Karen realized the girl was her.  She was looking at
herself in the mirror.

   Startled, she sat up, wincing again and pushing a large glob of sperm
out of her tender vagina.  Jim was gone.  Her bikini bottoms were nowhere
to be seen.  He must have taken them when he left.  The room was bare and
dusty.  It reeked of sex.  Aside from the sticky puddle she sat in, there
was another under the bench, blobs of cum and clear streaks and spatters of
her own orgasmic secretions.  She felt...she felt good.  Relaxed, for the
first time in she didn't know how long.  She scooted to rest her back
against the cool glass of the mirror.  She put her palm over her ravaged
babycunt and pressed lightly, feeling the heat and the stickiness, tracing
the gaping opening and her tender clitoral hood nestled in the keyhole
notch that bent just to one side.  A slow smile spread over her face and
her eyes drifted closed.  A vagrant thought struck her of Jim burying his
face in her soaked bikini panties and she giggled.  She sat like that,
gently masturbating for several minutes.  Then with a soft groan she pushed
herself to her feet.  She adjusted her bikini top, hissing as the fabric
abraded her sore, swollen nips.  She took an unsteady step and opened the
door, wincing and shielding her eyes against the sudden onslaught of
sunlight.

   "Well, what have we here?" Moira was standing right outside the door. 
She exhaled a lungful of cigarette smoke and flicked the butt away. 
"Doncha think you ought to button up your shirt?" Karen glanced down at
herself and blushed.  The wrinkled, dirty white shirt neatly framed her
cum-matted pubic tuft and her gaping, sperm-leaking vagina.

   Renee laughed delightedly as she felt my cock pulse a second time in her
hand and saw my semen shoot out past her and over the wall of the Ferris
wheel's gondola basket.  Just as she peeked over the rim to see if my
second squirt had landed like the first in the hair of the teenaged girl in
the basket below us, my cellphone rang.

   To be continued...

   *************

   Wow, this is the chapter that won't end.  I have one more part to write,
and then I will have covered the plot that was originally going to comprise
just part 19.  And after that, it's Karen's grand finale at Moira's
football party!

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