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Message-ID: <61769asstr$1323954601@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Sterling Smith <sterling27@live.com>
Importance: Normal
Subject: {ASSM} Bless the Torpedoes (MF Mf Mg cons rom het ScFi tears 1st)
Lines: 1437
Date: Thu, 15 Dec 2011 08:10:01 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d



Author: Sterling
Title: Bless the Torpedoes
Summary: An unscrupulous scientist has created a hundred girls
whose bodies never grow up, although their minds and libidos do.
They struggle to reconsider their feelings about the men who can
truly love and cherish them.
Keywords: MF Mf cons rom het ScFi tears 1st

NOTICE:  This story contains explicit sex.
 
First posted 12/28/2009, new header added 8/24/2010.
 
I'm always eager for comments, whether good, bad or mixed.
Comments to sterling27@live.com.
 
I have written many other stories and they can all be found at 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sterling/
 
You are welcome to copy this story if you include the entire
text unchanged, including this notice.  If you tell me where
you have re-posted it, I can enjoy knowing it is appreciated
and perhaps enjoy the feedback the story gets where you re-post it.
 
Sterling
 
And now, our feature presentation.  Enjoy!
 
==================================================================

Bless the Torpedoes

April 12, 2038
The New York Times
Boston -- "Girls Who Don't Grow Up"

The local office of the Centers For Disease Control announced
today that there are six girls in the Boston area displaying a
new syndrome associated with cessation of physical development.
There have always been a few boys and girls with hormonal
imbalances who do not have the growth spurt that precedes
puberty. If the problem does not correct itself, hormone
treatments are used to induce the growth spurt. For a number of
girls in the Boston area, those treatments are not effective.
They develop a serious allergic reaction to all known standard
treatments.

----------
January 3, 2039
The New York Times
Boston -- "Mad Scientist Created Perpetual Girls"

As of the end of 2038, 23 girls in the Boston area have been
diagnosed with what has now been named Treatment-Resistant
Puberty Deficiency (TRPD).  All of the girls were conceived by in
vitro fertilization performed by the late Dr. Paul Schwartz, a
noted fertility specialist. Genetic analysis has revealed that
all of these girls have an extra bit of genetic material in their
cells. "It sure looks like whatever these girls have was
deliberately engineered by Dr. Schwartz," said Dr. Frank Wiesner
of Mass General Hospital.

Dr. Schwartz committed suicide two years ago after taking the
unusual step of destroying all his medical records and a
previously unknown extensive laboratory he had maintained in the
basement of his home.

Given the finding, doctors have been performing genetic analysis
on all of the children from in vitro fertilization where Dr.
Schwartz was involved. About 90% of the girls conceived since
2021 have the extra genetic material, and none has entered the
growth spurt that precedes puberty. "If we extrapolate from
available data, there are about 150 girls who will develop this
syndrome," said Dr. Wiesner. It is not yet detectable in most
girls because they are not old enough to have started their
growth spurts in any case.

None of the boys have shown any unusual growth or puberty
changes, nor have scientists detected any genetic difference from
normal boys.

---------
August 22, 2039
The New York Times
Boston -- "Perpetual Girls Need Sex"

Scientists have now identified 123 confirmed cases in the greater
Boston area of girls containing the gene that causes
Treatment-Resistant Puberty Deficiency (TRPD), although most are
still too young to manifest the symptoms.

The syndrome has been tentatively associated with severe clinical
depression, but it has been impossible to separate a direct
effect of the disorder from unhappiness at having the disorder.
In a stunning new development, it appears that this depression
can be eliminated by regular sexual intercourse. This could have
gone undetected for some time, but hints came from two older
girls who chose to become sexually active and one younger girl
who has been the victim of sexual abuse. The names of the girls
have not been released.

Fortunately actual sexual intercourse is not required. Fresh
semen deposited in the vagina by any means is an effective
treatment.

Efforts to find a way to restore normal growth and subsequent
puberty in these girls have intensified, but to no avail. "We
have a number of ways of stimulating puberty, but the TRPD
genetic code seems to have been modified so that further growth
and puberty are fatal. It is the outcome that seems to be
prohibited," said Dr. Stephanie Rasmussen.

---------
August 23, 2039
The New York Times
Boston -- "Who Was Dr. Schwartz?"

The late Dr. Paul Schwartz is the man who genetically altered
girl embryos in his in vitro fertilization program so that the
girls would later develop Treatment-Resistant Puberty Deficiency
(TRPD). Who was this man?

He was a brilliant geneticist and endocrinologist -- no one
disputes that. "I'm not sure there is anyone else on earth who
could have assembled the mini-chromosome as Schwartz did," said
Dr. Stephanie Rasmussen of Beth Israel Deaconess hospital.

An only child, Schwartz grew up in Manhattan. He excelled in
school and graduated from Yale University and Harvard Medical
School.

He had few friends and is not known to have dated anyone of
either gender at any point in his life.

Police officers report that he was briefly questioned on two
separate occasions for suspicious behavior. He often parked his
car by school playgrounds for long periods of time, apparently
watching the children at play. Whenever anyone questioned him, he
politely apologized for arousing suspicion, drove off and never
showed up at that school again.

Although there is no smoking gun, there is a disturbing
possibility that fits all the facts. Dr. Schwartz was sexually
attracted to small girls, and he set about creating women who
would look like small girls and be sexually active, a pedophile's
dream.

By requiring semen in their vaginas to prevent depression, he was
nudging them in the direction of sexual activity. Their brains
continue to develop normally, including the development of
interest in boys. There is one other piece of tantalizing
evidence, though only anecdotal. Several of the girls who have
been receiving regular intra-vaginal semen as a depression
treatment report that their vaginas are undergoing the changes
associated with puberty, including enlargement. They report that
no other part of their body has started maturing.

---------------
October 2, 2039
Magazine Section of The Boston Globe
"Life with TRPD -- Women Who Look Like Girls"

There are nearly 50 girls with TRPD, the syndrome where physical
development stops late in childhood while mental development
proceeds normally.  What's their life like?

Dr. Jane Frazier is a psychologist specializing in adolescents.
"The first thing to realize is that these girls look like
ordinary girls. In a lot of unusual human conditions it is
immediately apparent that there is a problem. The blind, the
mentally disabled, and those who require wheelchairs all strike
people instantly as different. The TRPD girls are more like the
deaf in this regard.

"However, there is one important difference from any other
disorder. All societies are protective of their children, and
ours is more so than any in history. When a TRPD teenager goes
out by herself, what people see is a lost child, and they will
often intervene.

"There is a new symbol that has been devised for their condition,
a female symbol containing within it a smaller female symbol with
its 'tail' at an angle. It should tell grown-ups that this person
is at least a teenager and should be treated accordingly.
Unfortunately few people know the symbol, and few of the TRPD
girls choose to wear it. They would like to be able to wear
whatever they like and not label themselves to the world as
freaks."

These girls are now often known as "torps", especially among
themselves. The TRPD acronym had to be transformed into something
more pronounceable, and "torpedo" was the obvious and
irresistible choice. It has been further shortened to "torp".

We talked to Sasha, one of the oldest TRPD girls, now a sophomore
in college. "Everyone does a double take when I show up in the
Quantum Mechanics seminar looking like I am seven. They think
maybe the professor has done a 'Take Your Daughter To Work Day'.
Or that I am a big-time child prodigy. And it doesn't help that I
have a little girl voice. But people get used to it pretty
quickly when they are in a situation where they know me.  I'm
proud to be a torp," she says with a smile and raised fist, but
it doesn't sound too convincing.

Dr. Frazier continued, "Most people with disabilities are faced
with wariness in those they encounter. The person meeting them
doesn't really know how to relate to a blind person or a person
in a wheelchair, so they are cautious and self-conscious. But
people know very well how to relate to an eight-year-old girl.
Even when people know that this cute little thing is actually 18
they still have a tendency to talk louder and slower and avoid
big words, slang and double entendres."

When I asked Sasha about it, she said "Yeah, it's a pain in the
ass. I had my college roommate instinctively take my hand when we
were crossing the street once. It's hard to go anywhere by
myself. I can't whip out a Visa card to pay for something."

Are there benefits? "Sure, especially if you're cute like me."
Sasha does look adorable, with her big blue eyes and long blond
hair. She cocks her head and gives a bashful smile before
continuing. It is a perfect illusion. "Most of us hang onto our
eight-year-old personae because they can come in handy. I can go
out with my father and if I act like I'm eight I get all these
smiles and adoration. It's demeaning in a way, but it sure is
positive energy. Life was a lot simpler when I was eight -- I
mean, not just my own weird life, but everyone's life. If I wore
torn jeans and make-up then people would look at me like a
freak."

----------------
February 13, 2040
Address to the TRPD and Friends Support Group

I'm Jane, and I'm 19 years old. I am going to say lots of
personal things because I think we have a very personal
condition, and to the extent we are willing, I think we should
all share -- but without anyone feeling pressure. I share easily,
and I hope it won't come across like I'm an exhibitionist. But
for some reason I also didn't want any parents here with us
today.

I'm allowing this to be recorded so others can watch it later. We
are the tip of an iceberg -- there are many more girls out there
who will gradually discover their torpdom. Hopefully it will be
easier for them if we can share what we are going through.

It's weird because you all look like you're in elementary school!
I feel a little like a teenager addressing little kids on what
it's like to grow up -- or, actually, not grow up. [scattered
laughter]. OK, getting personal. I know a lot of girls with TRPD
get tired of going to the hospital twice a week and get the semen
from their fathers instead.  It felt too much like incest to me.
I mean, I would rather not think about my father having a sex
life at all, and it used to be like I knew he's in the other room
jerking off, but then when he shows up with the little cup he is
so trying not to think of incest he looks like an undertaker
[imitates his expressionless face; laughter].

So anyway, I found someone else to do it, a friend of my brother.
It certainly was weird at first. When he got to the house the
first time he shook my hand. I tried to imagine what he would say
if we were being honest. "Nice to meet you miss. I will proceed
to jerk off, then give you my cum so you can shove it up your
cunt [laughter]." But at least it wasn't my dad's or my
brother's.  We got into a routine.

But I didn't stop there. I want to have a normal life like any
other girl. I want a boyfriend... [nods of assent throughout]. I
want to get laid... [smiles, nervous laughter]. So I agonized and
was really nervous and though I thought I was going to die I
finally had a conversation with my brother. I asked him if he
would ask his friend whether he would be willing to do me. Take
the cup and the syringe out of the loop [laughter].

My brother has at least some clue about how people work and he
loves me, thank God, and although he turned red he got a handle
on himself and said he would do it. And because he loves me, I
knew that if his friend said "Are you out of your fuckin' mind!"
he would report back only a polite "Well, he'd really like to,
but he just doesn't feel right about it." [delivered with
exaggerated tone of compassion. laughter]. While I was at it and
already feeling like I was going to die I told my brother that
while it was none of his fuckin' business [laughter], he could
tell his friend my pussy is actually big enough and wet enough
for a cock. For the benefit of you guys, I got so I could put
four fingers in it ...[giggles in the room]. What, I'm not the
only one who has been poking and prodding herself ever since she
got the Diagnosis?" [laughter]. Anyway, the web says that if four
fingers fit a cock should fit.

Well, the report came back that his friend said he would be happy
to try. Got that? "Try." How to make a girl feel really special
[laughter].

We arranged some things in advance through email.  I started with
some small talk, but he was obviously really nervous.  I
unbuttoned my shirt to show I had on a bra stuffed with kleenex
[uproarious laughter] and that broke the mood a little. I said
"I'm kind of shy about my boobs, so I'll leave this on, OK?"
[uproarious laughter]. It made him laugh too. I also dropped my
skirt to reveal my panties. I may not have any pubic hair -- no
stubble, either -- but at least he couldn't see what was missing
as long as I had the panties on.

Then I had him pull his dick out.  It was the first time I had
ever touched a cock. Any of you ever seen a man's cock? [one
other hand goes up. Scattered applause from the room]. I started
fondling it and it got a little hard.  I knew what lots of guys
really like, so I asked if he'd like me to suck it, and he
agreed, a little sheepishly.  Then it got hard pretty fast, and
he started moaning a little and said he was ready. He took the
rest of his clothes off, and I got to see my first pair of nuts
too.

I lay back on the bed and pulled my panties off. He started to
fondle me, but I told him to go ahead and stick it in. I had been
fondling myself before he came, so I was already wet. (Gee, I
said I could say anything but this really IS kind of
embarrassing.) I told him to stick it in because his dick is
going to shrink if he's thinking about my little girl body,
right? It's not going to grow! So I held my pussy open and he
slid in. He looked at me and smiled, but I could tell it was an
effort and he felt self-conscious. So he closed his eyes, and I
read on the web later that that can be part of good sex, not just
something guys do when their girls are ugly [laughter].

Anyway, he pumped away, and I told him he could come any time.
And it was maybe three minutes before he did; it was actually
pretty amazing. So then he lay beside me and smiled and cuddled
me. I realized it was easy enough to do that once his cock wasn't
expected to be stiff. He can fake thinking I'm sexy, but his cock
can't fake it -- that's what they say. But I had the sense he
felt like he was with -- gasp -- a little girl! [laughter] not a
lover. So after a few minutes I thanked him, he thanked me and
said it had been great, then he got dressed and left.  Neither of
us has suggested doing it again.

So that's "Jane loses her virginity." [laughter]

[Suddenly serious] But you know, seeing that hard cock took my
breath away. Feeling it slide into me... Just having his whole
maleness all over me was incredible. Filling me up between my
legs. His urgency and power -- amazing. Maybe we need to be
coming up with some male prostitutes [laughter] but I really hope
you all get to feel that some day. Girls are constantly
complaining that guys only want one thing from them. That's not
our problem! [laughter].

So it was great. But you know -- not that this is a big surprise
-- I really don't want to be just fucked, I want to be loved too.

[slow nods and a noticeable silence].

Any questions?


----------------
April 3, 2040
From the TRPD online discussion forum "Torp Talk", by invitation
only, restricted to TRPDs.

[The actual posts were much more cryptic and full of web slang
and abbreviations. They have been expanded to real English for
ease of reading.]

StellaTorp: I finally did it. I went onto a pedo site. When I
explained who I was it started lively discussion threads.

Of course there were doubts about whether I was really a torp or
just someone pretending, but some of them decided to believe me.

I said I'm interested in dating men and that I think they are the
only men who will really find me attractive.
Then these guys engaged in lively debates as to whether they
would find me attractive or not. They know that my body looks
like what they're interested in, more or less. They've all seen
pictures of torps, of course. There are different ideas as to
whether they would be turned off. Some said knowing I was 18
would be a turn-off. Some said if I talked and acted like a grown
woman it would be a turn-of, but if I acted like I was eight it
would be OK. A lot of them weren't sure. None of these guys has
ever been romantic with a little girl -- thank God -- so they
don't know how their attractions would play out in reality. It's
interesting to think about.

Then the 'vagina question' came up. Most of them seem to think it
would be heaven on earth to actually be able to do it with a
little girl (yuck), so they were excited; a few say they think it
would turn them off knowing that I wasn't really a little girl
between my legs too. But I got the sense that on the whole they
were very interested, in theory.

When we talk even hypothetically about actually meeting, they are
very wary. They think it's pretty likely it's a trap. And who can
blame them? The Feds are pretty aggressive in setting traps for
child molesters.

Then someone said if the official torp site stuck in some
software and each of us real torps was given a secret number,
then it could get recoded every ten seconds or something so they
could be sure. I didn't follow -- well, heck, I'm only eight,
right? :-)


----------------
April 5, 2040
From "Torp Talk"

TorpNerd: What do you think of "torpedo" as a word for us? It's
warlike and phallic, and that doesn't suit us at all well (hey,
any of you guys wanna join the Marines?). But it's active and
strong and potent. Dynamite? Explosive? But would we really have
preferred "buttercup" or "lassie" or "sweet peas"? (or "faux
jailbait"?).

Also, did anyone notice that what's left out when you shorten
"torpedo" to "torp" is "pedo"? Or almost. They can be joined by a
"pp". This is getting too weird.


----------------
April 5, 2040
From "Torp Talk"

Alice in Wonderland: I've had to think hard about these guys. I
mean, child molesters are the scum of the earth, right? I imagine
greasy guys with wicked leering expressions. The guys assure me
that they aren't. They point out that the molesters who actually
molest girls may fit the stereotype to some extent because they
either don't care about whether it hurts the girls or they are
too deluded or clueless to understand it will actually hurt them.

They say for every actual molester there are 20 who feel an
attraction to girls but would never molest anyone. (They admit
they don't really know what the figures are.) It's kind of like
most guys aren't rapists, but if you read the news, you never
hear about sweet guys having sex, just rapists. Or something like
that. I think I'm coming to believe them, or at least I'm willing
to consider it.

So, part of me thinks any guy who wants to have sex with a little
girl is a sicko. But I look like a little girl. And I think I
deserve love, and I deserve a guy who finds me sexy. So do I hate
myself, thinking that my body ought to be disgusting as a sex
object? I'm trying to think maybe these guys aren't sick, they're
just different. I'm trying.

They say they don't want to just have sex, their dream is to fall
in love, to marry. Before we torps came along, it was hard for
them to even dream about that because there's only so much
meeting of the minds possible with a little kid. When they think
about me, they get all emotional about how great it would be.


Girl Power:
Alice in Wonderland wrote: *** So, part of me thinks any guy who
wants to have sex with a little girl is a sicko. But I look like
a little girl. And I think I deserve love, and I deserve a guy
who finds me sexy. So do I hate myself, thinking that my body
ought to be disgusting as a sex object? I'm trying to think maybe
these guys aren't sick, they're just different. I'm trying. ***

No one could have said it better, Alice. [16 people like this]

----------
April 9, 2040
GirlLurker:

Maybe I've got a unique perspective. I was abused when I really
was still a little girl. Before you get all upset, for me it
wasn't too bad. When I was four my uncle told me to pull my
panties down, and he touched me between my legs and told me how
beautiful I was. He even opened my labia for a few seconds but it
didn't hurt. It felt bad to me then so he stopped.

I told mom and I've never seen that uncle again (until recently),
though Aunt Judy and my cousins still visit. At least my mom was
good about it. She didn't freak out in my presence, and she
believed me. They say he didn't exactly admit it at first, but he
finally did.

When I was 14 I asked my mom what happened to Uncle Michael? She
first asked why I asked because she didn't want to bring up that
part of my past unless I did. I told her I remembered it.

She said they didn't call the police but they made him go to
therapy, and he does, ever since. Aunt Judy nearly divorced him
over it. They didn't tell me any of this because they didn't want
me to feel guilty. I remember thinking when she told me all that
that years in jail seemed a little extreme. Maybe a few months. I
mean, it's not like labia are sacred or something. They're just
folds of skin. He was saying nice things, and I know he meant
them even if they creeped me out a little. I don't have
nightmares, and I don't fear men.  But I know it's worse for some
other girls.

He sent me a letter when I turned 16 apologizing. I sent him one
back saying I forgave him if he was sure he'd never do anything
like that again with anybody.

So now I think about a man opening my labia and telling me it
looks beautiful, and what do I think? (assuming it's the right
man). I long for it. I mean, not that specifically, but the man,
and touching me, and most of all telling me I'm beautiful.

So what exactly did Uncle Michael do that was wrong? He should
have known that girls have private parts and he should have let
them be private. I talked about it with my therapist (who I see
not because of the abuse but because of this lovely torpdom we
all share), and she was OK with my asking to see him, and he
agreed. The therapist would have preferred to be there, but I
said it should be just the two of us. It happened just last week.

It took me half an hour to get him to stop apologizing and
stammering. He told me I still look pretty much like the girl he
abused, which hadn't occurred to me as a factor, but -- duh. What
I finally got through his thick head was that I wanted
information: I wanted to know why he didn't think what he was
doing was wrong. I wasn't going to judge him; I just wanted to
understand.

What he said came out in a jumble, but what it boiled down to was
that he did know other people thought it was wrong, and he did
too, usually. But I was just standing there in my room looking so
beautiful, and he figured he was going to say things that were
positive and loving and supportive, maybe helping my body image.
Shouldn't we be open about our bodies and not ashamed of them?
And he told me what I never knew before, he was also kind of
drunk, and part of him told himself that since he was drunk it
wasn't his fault so much.

So I thanked him and went away. I went through a few waves of
feeling really furious at him, but they've passed.  And I've been
thinking about what he actually told me.

What I've decided now is that there was nothing wrong with his
thinking I was beautiful, and not just like most people think a
kid is beautiful. Nothing wrong with his wanting to see me naked
or open my labia. That is just the way he is built. It's no
accident that I think that, maybe, because I'm a torp and want
men to think I'm sexy now. But I really have come to believe it.

What we all know was wrong was that he didn't respect my
boundaries and privacy, and took advantage of the fact I was a
little kid and I trusted him. Are there men who think I am
beautiful now but who will respect my boundaries? I hope there
are.  I think there are. I think there are probably lots of them.

---------
June 11, 2040
From "Torp Talk"

Little Amazon: Zach's coming over! Tonight! I'm scared out of my
freakin' mind. My brother is going to be here too, which is weird
but Zach's OK with it. He understands I just am not totally sure
he's not a monster. He LOLs when I say I feel like he could snuff
me out like a bug, but he's good, he says we've got to be patient
with each other. He says he hopes I realize how scary it was to
give me his real name.  If I'm not dead I'll tell you all about
it.

---------
June 12, 2040
From the journal of Zach Kreider:

Rose. Rose Farnham. She had sent me her pictures, of course, but
I still wasn't prepared for what she looked like. And how she
dressed! A pink flowery print dress, and her hair in pigtails!
She had said she was willing to act like a little girl as much as
possible, when appropriate.

She answered the door, all 4'1" and 51 pounds of her. But right
behind her was baby brother Dave, maybe 6'2" and 220. There was
something in his body language that told me he thought his size
might be important. I don't know if he knew how he was coming
across or not. To them I'm a child molester, so I have to be
prepared for it.

So we all sat in the living room. Rose and I cracked jokes and
things seemed to go OK. She said she had picked a video and that
it was a surprise. It was "Lolita" of all things, and that was
worth a laugh. She told Dave he could go, but not too far away.
So he headed off to his room after giving me a significant Look.

My heart was pounding, but I sat close beside her and I offered
her my hand, which she took freely. She then snuggled up beside
me, which was great. I put my arm around her, slowly. I thought
about it a little.

"When you snuggle up to me like that you get to take advantage of
eight-year-old privilege."

She immediately started laughing, and soon I joined her. She had
gotten it instantly, the dear thing. A girl can snuggle up to
anyone, or sit in his lap, and no one thinks anything of it. For
a grown man to put his arm around an eight-year-old? Whoa! Don't
go there! We'd gone over this before, but she repeated what we
had worked out online:

"You can do anything you want as long as you do it slowly. I
might not let you, but I won't think you're bad. And I won't slap
you." She had been talking kind of like a grown-up to that point,
or the best imitation an eight-year-old could make of a
grown-up's voice. Then she switched to her best little girl voice
and added brightly, "At least not very hard."

"And you can do anything you want with me, and I won't think
you're a brazen hussy." That was worth a laugh too. I then
switched to my best evil voice and said "or at least I won't tell
you so bwahahaaaa."

Things proceeded remarkably quickly. From tentative beginnings
our faces came together almost like magnets. Neither of us had
kissed anyone before, but we picked it up pretty quickly. At
least it sure as hell felt good to me. Her hands were all over my
neck and hair and back. I was up and down her arms and thighs.

There was one significant moment. I slowly, very slowly, moved my
hand towards her chest and very slowly put my hand against her
breast -- or where her breast would be, if she had one. I looked
into her eyes and she into mine. As I started moving my hand
around very gently on her chest, a few tears came to her eyes,
and they welled up in me too. Then we hugged each other tight.
After a moment I said, "Do you think we can shut Humbert Humbert
up?"

"Yes!" She found the remote and did that promptly, then got up
and stood before me, the dear sweet thing. She looked down shyly
and said, "Would you like to come see my bedroom?"

So it seemed only a moment later that she closed the door behind
us. She attacked my clothes and I helped her strip me to my
briefs. She looked at the bulge within with serious respect.

And when I turned my attention to her body we both slowed down. I
slowly undid the buttons on her dress, very slowly, then lifted
it over her head. She had on pink cotton panties to match her
pink dress. She pulled my underpants down and my cock sprang
free. Then I very slowly pulled her panties down and we stood
facing each other. We both looked at our bodies but mostly at her
body, a child's body, the body of an eight-year-old girl.

The weight of society, of history, and of our personal pasts did
not stay away entirely. Her instinct told her she did not look
sexy, and if I thought she did then I was sick.  My instinct told
me that I should feel very guilty about thinking she looked sexy.
 But our instincts passed.
Our hands were all over each other, and we were soon sprawled on
the sheet. Her one mature part was her pussy, and I got very
excited sliding my finger in and out while massaging her
clitoris. She had to help me a little, because I didn't really
know how to do it right without doing too much.

I seemed to have gotten the hang of it because she gave a little
urgent cry. Not so little, actually.

We heard footsteps as Dave approached the door. For the only time
there in the bedroom Rose put aside her happy girl's voice and
said in the most grown-up voice she could manage, loudly, "Thank
you Dave, everything is just fine."

"OK, OK," he muttered from the hall as we heard his steps
retreating.

We looked at each other and smiled, but soon my hand undulating
between her legs had her looking very hungry. I might have
thought it was a kindergartner who said, "I'm ready."

"Ready for what?" We both laughed as I positioned myself above
her and she guided my cock towards her. It looked out of
proportion to her body. I pressed my tip against her lips, and
they slid aside easily. With back and forth motions I went in a
little more each time, watching with joy and lust and
fascination.  I'll remember that for the rest of my life.  Then
my whole cock slid in all the way to the hilt and our pubic bones
met, my hairy mat on her smooth baby labia. We had decided
against using a condom. We were both virgins, she certainly was
not going to get pregnant, and besides she needed regular doses
of semen anyway.

I was trying to hold back, but she was just so sexy I came in
under a minute. It could have been ten seconds for all I know. I
lunged deep, looking at that eight-year-old face and lovely flat
eight-year-old chest. She said later she had never seen such
sheer joy on a person's face in her life.

As I came down I said, "Sorry, sorry."

"No, no, thank you, don't worry.  Thanks for the medicine,
anyway." That was worth a chuckle.

We had discussed the possibility of my not lasting so long and
were prepared for it. We snuggled together, and in a mere five
minutes my cock was fully hard again. Then I was back inside her,
and that time we made love at different speeds, side by side,
with her on top, on and on for maybe 45 minutes. The position
that worked best for her was on top with my hands fluttering
against her clitoris, and at the 45-minute mark she did a decent
job of stifling her scream. Then I turned all 50 pounds of her
over on her back and she smiled and hugged me as I pumped her
hard and fast and deep and came in her again.

We drifted off to sleep together, though we both woke up a lot.
Every time I did I felt a surge of joy to feel her next to me.

I headed off to my place at 8am after some eggs and toast she
made.

I can't believe it. I never thought life could be this good.

She has a meeting tonight, so we were set to get together
tomorrow.  Then she added a little sheepishly that she would be
home by 10:30.  I got her drift at once and told her I would love
to see her then. I think this is getting very serious very fast.

I start crying just thinking about it.

It's still robbing the cradle, but it's not as bad as it looks.
31 with 23 is bad, but it's not as bad as 31 with eight.


--------------
July 7, 2043
The New York Times
Boston -- "Thanks to Torps, 'Pedophile' Not Such a Dirty Word"

Most torps and pedophiles have their dates in private places,
most often each other's homes. The torp doesn't want to be seen
as a freak, and the pedo doesn't want to be seen as a monster.
Sometimes they can go out, pretending to be a daughter out with
father or brother. The torps often have fun skipping, singing
little songs to themselves, or even having little temper
tantrums. And the pedos often love it.  But it takes a lot of
courage to try any little public displays of affection that a man
and a woman take for granted.

There are still strong voices in society whose message, at its
emotional core, is that they wish torps would just disappear.
They feel the danger of child molestation is just so high that
any hint of sexuality in what looks like an immature girl should
be suppressed. But polls show this view is definitely losing
favor.

There were pro-pedophile groups for decades, but their stance was
that age of consent laws needed to be modified so they could
actually consummate their desires. Those groups were almost
universally reviled.

Now there are some celibate pedophilic pride groups that meet in
the open instead of behind secret online identities. This is a
development that would have been unthinkable before the TRPD
syndrome was discovered.

------
I caught up with Jeremy. Jeremy Williams, he told me proudly,
making a point of not being anonymous.

"I hope to meet a torp some day." said Jeremy. "Of course I see
little girls every day and I'm attracted to them. But they're not
torps."

"What do you think when you see little girls? That's what
everyone's worried about."

"I'm not attracted to all of them, but when I see one who is cute
I say 'Aww, what a cute, hot little girl.' I make sure not to
stare at her or anything."

"Do you think about what you'd like to do with that cute little
girl?"

"Rarely. I mean, if you see a pretty girl, like a college-age
girl, you might think she's pretty, but do you think specifically
about what you might do with her? Some guys do, I guess, but most
don't. Neither do I."

"But you do sometimes?"

"Yes, yes I do," he said with some measure of acceptance. He's
not going to feel guilty about it.

"But that's not what counts, right? What counts is what I do. I'm
not going to touch her. I don't even have an impulse to touch
her. If you see a pretty girl, do you say to yourself, 'Wow,
she's so hot, I'd better not rape her.'? No. It's just not a
remote possibility, regardless of how hot she is. If I touch a
little girl in a bad way, that's in most ways just like raping
her. I know that. We all know that. It's just not a possibility.

"But I can dream of meeting a torp. There's a snowball's chance
in hell I'll meet one out here in California, but just the dream
is inspiring."

He slowed his pace and looked at me earnestly. "What I want you
and all your readers to think about is this: If I can't meet my
torp, why can't you all just feel sorry for me? Why do you have
to hate me? Just because little girls look like torps?"

----
Jill is 22 and a torp. Her situation is unusual because she has a
sister Janice who is nine, and they look remarkably alike -- more
alike than most sisters. Mark is Jill's boyfriend, and he visits
the family a lot. He was with the family when I visited.  They
showed me a picture of Mark on the couch with Jill on one side
and Janice on the other, an arm around each one. It's very hard
to tell which girl is the torp if you don't know them.

"My arm around Jill means one thing, and my arm around Janice
means another," he says. "They both sit on my lap sometimes --
not at the same time any more, now that Janice is so big. They
can both lay their head on my shoulder. I can put my arms around
both of them, even squeeze a little, and they both like it. It's
called affection.

"With Jill, there are more possibilities. I might kiss her, touch
her, like, thighs, and of course many other things when we're in
private."

I had a long talk with Kayla, the girls' mother. I asked her how
she felt about the whole situation, especially Mark.
"I've been through many phases, of course. When we found out that
Jill was a torp we were devastated, but we got over it. When she
got interested in boys and none were interested in her we felt
bad for her.

"If your daughter was terribly fat, or in a wheelchair, or
retarded, you still see the beauty in her and wish and hope some
boy or man would see that beauty too, and see it in a way that
would make him fall in love with her. We saw a little girl, a
gorgeous little girl, and no one could miss her beauty. But was
there a man who could really fall in love with her? There was a
word for the kind of man we were hoping would love Jill:
pedophile. And that takes a huge adjustment, since we're used to
thinking of pedophiles with disgust.

"So we went through some consciousness raising. Here's what we
came up with: Some guys are creepy and most guys are OK. Some of
the creepy guys are pedophiles and most aren't. Some of the OK
guys are pedophiles and most aren't. What do creepy
non-pedophiles do to women? They whistle, they make rude remarks,
they hit on them. Maybe they stalk them or intimidate them. A few
are rapists. We know that creepy pedophiles do more or less the
same things because they make the news all the time. The tragedy
is that the little girls often can't or don't tell the creeps to
bug off, and that's why we are so protective of them and so angry
at the creepy pedophiles, because they are exploiting innocence
and trust.

"The invisible category is the non-creepy pedophiles. They may
feel frustrated or lonely or sad, but they keep their hands off
the little girls. That's half.  The other half is they keep their
mouths shut because everyone's going to hate them. Why announce
to the world that you feel attracted to little girls when you
know you never would do anything? Your only reward is to be
shunned and despised. They're the invisible pedophilic decent
guys. And that's who torps are looking for.

"That's who Mark is. A very sweet, loving man. A pedophilic good
guy who loves my Jilly."

Kayla seemed to have the celibate pedophilic pride argument down
pretty well. But I decided to press.

"How do you feel knowing Mark might really like to be kissing
Janice and moving his hands up her thighs?"

"I don't mind at all. The way you put it assumes Mark is a sex
maniac. Suppose you have daughters who are 15 and 18. A guy comes
to date your 18-year-old. He probably finds your 15-year-old hot
too, at some level. Are you worried he's going to try to rape
her? Not really."

"So would you hire Mark as a babysitter? To stay alone with
Janice all evening?"

"Absolutely."

There was one more person I wanted to interview: Janice.

"Janice, what do you think of Mark?"

"I like him."

"What do you like about him?"

"He's funny, and he plays with me, reads me stories, and listens
to me."

"Do you know he likes to get all kissy with your sister?"

"Sure."

"Would you like him to do that with you?"

"Eeeeww."

"Do you think he ever would?"

"No. He's nice."

"How would you feel if you knew he really would kind of like to
do that with you?" Kayla was sitting with us, and now she shifted
a little in her chair.

Janice giggled a little. "He'd better not cuz Jilly would get mad
at him. He's nice to me."

I decided to press a little more. "What if he did anyway?" Kayla
gave a little exasperated sigh.

Janice looked at me like I had a screw loose, but she considered.
"I'd make him stop and tell mom he was maybe getting sick." She
wanted to leave.

Kayla called to Janice as she skipped out, "Don't worry, Janice.
He's just being silly."

Kayla had some words for me that I'm omitting, and I couldn't
blame her, really. But those words included a good question. "Why
don't you ask her what she would do if I started kissing her or
running my hands up her thighs? Her own mother?  Or what about
Jilly?  You want her to start wondering whether we'll start
feeling her up?"

Mark is a big hit in this family. Janice loves him because he's
fun and affectionate, Jill loves him because he loves her just
the way she is, and Kayla loves him because he's good to Janice
but especially because he adores her Jilly and treats her well.

I asked Kayla a few more questions.

"What do your friends think about Mark and Jill?"

"You can see the wheels turn sometimes. They can understand that
Jill wants a boyfriend, and they understand that the boyfriend
has to be a pedophile, and they hear us say how great Mark is.
But they then strain to put it together emotionally. A good
pedophile? It give them pause for thought."

As it does all of us.

---------------
April 30, 2049.
The New York Times
"Torp-Maker Schwartz Speaks From the Past"

Within hours of each other, venerable law firms in Boston, Zurich
and Stockholm released an identical text written by the late Paul
Schwartz, infamous creator of the TRPD syndrome which he caused
by changing the genetic code of 152 girls. April 29, 2049 would
have been Schwartz's 80th birthday. The law firms report that
they knew only that a man had paid an appropriate fee for them to
hold the letter sealed until the date he requested. Below is the
text of the main part of the letter:

"First, I want to apologize to all the girls, now young women,
who found out they were never going to grow up. I had no right to
do that to you. I hope you are having decent lives. The world is
richer for your existence, but that does not excuse what I did to
you.

"I never even kissed a girl, because the only girls I wanted to
kiss were the little ones. Because I loved them I of course never
approached one. In my life I never could stand up and say out
loud, 'I would love little girls if the harmony of nature let
them love me back.' I would have been met with hatred and
disgust, though I deserved compassion. I could never even talk to
another man and have him say 'I understand.'

"I created women who look like the little girls I craved. Those
girl-women will have wanted men to love them. I hope that men
like me have stepped forth from the shadows to love them with all
their hearts, and that the girl-women and society have accepted
them in that role. I hope the existence of girl-women has shown
the world the nature of honorable pedophiles.

"I know there are boy lovers just as worthy of compassion, but I
made the creatures that my passion craved.

"My life after my deed was discovered would have been nothing but
questions, derision, hatred, and imprisonment. I didn't want to
live that life.

"I did what I thought was best. For the pain I have caused, I am
sorry."

There was also an appendix to the letter.  Scientists report that
Schwartz's genetic engineering had not been fully decoded and
that the information he gives was not known to scientists:

"In case my genetic engineering has not been decoded, I would
like to describe how the latter half of a girl-woman's life will
develop.  Around the age of 40 she will grow and undergo puberty.
 She will have on the order of 15 childbearing years, after which
she will follow the course of menopause as in any other woman. 
The girl-women should live a little longer normal.

"The daughters of girl-women will all be girl-women, but the sons
will not transmit any genes for the condition."


----------
July 12, 2049.
The New York Times
"Torps Ponder Schwartz, Action"

Moved by Paul Schwartz's letter, the TRPD women have been talking
and thinking.

Lonely voices inside and outside of the TRPD community have said
for some time that being a torp is not a handicap but just a
difference, and that the world should make more of them instead
of letting them die out. When science believed that the torps
would never grow to adults and could never have children, this
seemed highly unethical.

Schwartz's letter has cast the future of torps into an entirely
new light.  If Schwartz is correct that they will eventually grow
and can have children, then we know vital facts about those
children.  All the daughters will be torps and all the sons will
be normal, as will all the sons' daughters.

Now the big controversy surrounds artificially creating more
torps.  There is no technical obstacle, as the TRPD
mini-chromosome can be cultured from many cell types of a TRPD
and injected into a fertilized egg.  There are small groups
throughout the world who are interested. Even if overwhelming
majorities find this idea repugnant, it will probably happen
since it only takes a few people to carry out the plan.

Another theme, more shocking in many ways, is that a few of the
torps feel their life calling may be to let more pedophiles
experience their life's dream at least once. They rightly spurn
the "prostitute" label because they are not motivated by personal
gain and plan to donate any proceeds to charity. Initial
estimates are that if they did charge they could easily command a
price of $5,000 for a single trick, perhaps as high as $20,000.

But there is another word for what they propose to be:  "sluts".



----------
January 22, 2051
From the Executive Summary of the Report of the US Attorney
General's Office. "The Influence of TRPD On Law Enforcement."

Some TRPD women made themselves available for pornography shots.
Their bodies are virtually indistinguishable from those of girls
between the ages of six and twelve. Since a positive defense
against pornography is that the subject be 18 years of age, law
enforcement was facing a legal source of what was essentially
child pornography. An executive order banned this practice
immediately and Congress followed with legislation within three
weeks. The Courts have struggled to find a consistent definition
of what constitutes images which appear to be depicting children,
but they have upheld the basic intent of the law.

Occasionally accused child molesters have raised as a defense
that they believed they were engaging in sexual activity with an
adult TRPD woman. The courts have ruled that unless a female
declares herself to be a TRPD, no reasonable man would conclude
she is. Even when she does claim to be one, reasonable measures
to verify her claim are required.

Two TRPD women have volunteered to participate in undercover
operations against sex offenders. The police have benefited
greatly by being able to let a liaison proceed farther before
intervening.

The TRPD women who are making themselves available to men for sex
have had an interesting effect. It seems that a few of the men
who approach them admit having committed child sexual abuse, and
the TRPD women have cooperated in bringing them to justice.

The incidence of child molestation has declined slightly since
the TRPD condition became widely known, though it is unclear
whether there is a causal relationship.

----------
May 15, 2052
Draft of a story by George Plinkoff. [His other draft stories
seem to have been autobiographical.]

After a few false starts, Andrew drifted into consciousness. The
gray of early dawn was easing into the room. He turned to Emma,
asleep beside him on her back. They both slept in the nude. She
really did look like an eight-year-old, her compact body giving
no sign of sexual development.  He adored her innocent little
face, smooth chest, narrow hips, and smooth labia just visible
between her legs. He watched her for a minute, then started
stroking her hair very gently. After a few seconds she shook him
off and turned away from him. Now the part of her he saw was her
smooth back leading gracefully down to her little-girl butt. He
felt warmth as blood pumped to his loins. He snuggled against her
back and began breathing in her ear and nibbling it ever so
gently. It really was almost time to get up, so he didn't feel
too bad about waking her.

After a minute she yawned and stretched and turned back towards
him with a smile.  They kissed gently. He moved his kisses slowly
down to her little breast bud where he licked gently. She sighed
happily, and soon she draped her leg over him and started gently
rocking her pussy against his leg. After a minute of that she lay
on her back again and his hand slid between her legs.  He took a
little fluid from her dripping pussy and massaged her labia and
clitoris in the way she liked best. She started to glow, then
nudged him to get on top of her. He slid his cock in slowly and
they were joined, man's body to girl's body.

It was not frantic lovemaking. His strokes were slow and gentle,
and they both made little gasps and moans, not big ones. As their
moans got more intense he knew the moment was right to lift
himself away from her a little and slide his fingers down between
their bodies and quickly stroke his fingers against her clitoris.
She cried out and shuddered with orgasm. He let her relish the
feeling from beginning to end before removing his hand and
pressing himself fully against her again.

She spread her legs as wide apart as they would go and slid her
heels up on his back, while lifting her head to whisper in his
ear, which she knew he liked.  Her little-girl voice piped up
with "Fuck me deep. Give me your sperm, I want it so bad, shoot
it into me, fuck just like that, mmmm," and variants, over and
over. Soon he spasmed out his cum inside of her with a great cry.
When his orgasm had died down he slid off of her, they kissed
briefly, then she turned away from him and he snuggled against
her back.

After they had rested a while she said, "I have that staff
meeting at 10 today, and I need to go over the presentation we're
going to make in California. I think we need to include some
detail on the costs of the subassemblies, but Gina thinks we
should leave that for later."

"Mmmhmmm," said Andrew. They both knew he didn't follow the
details of her work so well, but he did listen and offered useful
opinions on the emotional aspects of the situation sometimes.

"I'm afraid I'll have to stay over the weekend there."

Andrew groaned. "Again? They didn't say it was this kind of
travel when you took the job."

"I know, I know, sweetie, I'm sorry."

Emma was the one with the career. Andrew worked 9 to 5 in a call
center, he kept house, and he adored Emma. Emma adored him too,
but affection is rarely exactly equal in a marriage.  He adored
her more.

He was 42 and she was 28. Throughout his 20s he had lived his
life with the usual ups and downs we all face. But he could never
quite resign himself to the fact that he would never marry, never
know that closeness that he craved so much. He would never know
love because the only people who made his heart melt, who took
his breath away, who he wanted to hold and love and sleep with at
night were girls between the ages of about six and twelve.

Then the torps came along. He was one of the first, the brave
ones, to come out and say he was attracted to them. He was
reviled but not as badly as he feared, and he arranged to meet
one for a date. Despite the physical attraction he and Donna just
didn't hit it off. But he and Emma had taken to each other at
once.

He was luckier than her twice over. For one thing, there were at
least thirty pedophiles for every torp even in greater Boston,
and she had chosen him. And for another, it was wearisome for a
full-grown woman to navigate life -- especially the world of
business -- looking exactly like she was eight years old.


---------
October 7, 2056.
From The New York Times Magazine:
"Torp Angels: Angels -- or Sluts?"
by Frances Goodman

Sarah is a woman of 32, though she looks just ten years old. She
was the first to use the term "Torp Angel". She is one of three
at present but she is the most active and most famous. She says
she doesn't like the term any more because it is pretentious.

This woman spends several hours a day, six days a week, on her
back while men have sex with her. What they see is a girl of age
ten. I'll admit that my initial reaction, and my second, and my
third, was revulsion.

I caught up with her after work in her office. A framed painting
of Dr. Schwartz hung behind her desk.

I had never met a torp before, and like so many I could not
believe the person before me was not a girl of ten.

"Why do you do it, Sarah? You don't get any monetary benefit. No
woman in the world that we know of opens her body to a whole
flood of men as you do."

"First let me say that I believe there is a deep and powerful
aspect of a woman's nature that is profoundly unhappy about
having with sex with a great many different partners.  I
recognize that in myself and I let myself feel it from time to
time.  But mostly I hug that part of my nature, tell it I love
it, and put it down for a long nap.

"Next, I think there is a huge difference between my situation
and a woman who has sex with 'ordinary' men. If a man puts his
mind to it, he can find a woman of his own. There are as many
women as men. If men visit a prostitute, it is because they are
lazy or not very nice.

"Pedophiles have no such option. There are 120 or so of us torps
in the world, and most of us are married or committed. The three
of us are the only hope they have of ever fulfilling their
fantasies even once."

"But as you say, they are fantasies. Most of us don't get to
fulfill our fantasies."

"It is not just any fantasy for these men, it is the one dominant
fantasy. I think a sexual bond is a fantasy everyone is entitled
to fulfill at least once if it is possible.

"There's something more personal, too. I spent my teens loathing
my body and feeling I would never know love. Pedophiles are the
ones who changed all that. So many of my fellow torps went from
despair to happiness, and I did too. I feel gratitude to
pedophiles as a class on behalf of myself and my fellow torps.

"I have my Jason I go home to every night, and he holds me and
listens to me and sleeps beside me."

"How does he feel about your -- um -- infidelity?"

"He has a mix of emotions, but remember he is one of the
pedophiles, so he knows how they feel.  He is behind me all the
way on this."

"How does it work?"

"It may not sound romantic, but men apply. There are more of them
than I could ever have time for. Their applications are screened
by a large staff, and then they have to undergo interviews.

"They must meet several criteria. One is that they are attracted
exclusively to little girls and have never had a love
relationship with an ordinary mature woman. Another is that they
are kind and gentle and approach their time with me with an
appropriate attitude. And I only accept men who I find somewhat
attractive."

She paused for a moment and gave an impish smile. "I find a lot
of men attractive."

"Do you enjoy your encounters?"

"I almost always do. You cannot believe the looks of adoration
and wonder these men give me, of how thankful they are. I'm sure
no one in the world has been the recipient of so much profound
gratitude, day in and day out."

"What about your body? Do you enjoy it with your body?"

She laughed. "I usually find it at least pleasant. I confess I've
always had a strong sexual appetite."

"There must be some scary moments. Despite all your screening,
there surely is some danger."

She grew quiet. "Yes, there is. I have been annoyed many times
and frightened a few times. I have several ways of protecting
myself, however."

"Do you have bouncers? Enforcers?"

"You can call them that. Initially I invited pedophiles to serve
that role, but I stopped. Their reactions were too strong. When
one of them saw how a man was treating me he nearly killed the
guy."

"How was the man treating you?"

"I would rather not say. But I will say it was more humiliation
than true danger."

"I hear some men have died while visiting you, or shortly after."

"It's true, some have. If a man has an underlying heart condition
and then puts himself in a situation where he feels strong
emotions and then is also putting his body through a
cardiovascular workout, it's sometimes too much."

"So do you screen men for fitness? Have them run a treadmill?"

"It's a debate. Sometimes it's the men who are near the end of
their lives who I feel the most compassion for and are the most
grateful of all. Not all men have intercourse with me, you
understand. Many never get undressed. Some just look and do not
touch."

"Before I get too far away from the subject, how does it feel
when a man dies in your arms?"

Sarah got quiet and I got the sense she was trying to fight back
emotion. "It doesn't feel good, no. Of course not. But I have
never felt guilty."

She was silent again. "Sometimes I find myself sobbing at night
in Jason's arms, but it's not for me and not for the men who die.
It's for the oceans of pain these men have in their lives."

"Do you encounter men who have abused little girls?"

"A few have admitted it in their applications, a few in their
interviews. I never see them of course. Several have confessed
after they have seen me. And two told me while we were having
sex."

"What did you do then?"

"I insisted they stop immediately. I always report all these men
to the authorities. Some simply confess, and in other cases the
police investigate, and sometimes they even do undercover
operations. We never promise them confidentiality, though that
and other serious crimes are the only things I have reported.
Along with some cases where we thought someone might be in
danger."

"Are you worried that because of your availability, men think
more about sex with girls and more men abuse them? Some people
have suggested that."

"The incidence of abuse of girls has if anything gone down
slightly since we torps came along and since I started following
my calling. I think the way it works is that now a pedophile can
say 'If I want to have sex, I'll have to visit a torp angel. She
is a grown woman and can consent. Girls can't consent.' It
sharpens that consent component, which is vital. Many of them can
never visit me, but at least in principle they could.

"As it becomes more acceptable to admit to a pedophilic tendency,
we draw men into trusting society's rules. If a closeted
pedophile feels bitter and angry at the world, he is less
inclined to follow the laws. A lot of people follow laws not just
because they might get caught but because they figure maybe
society knows what it's doing."

"What about money? Initially you charged thousands of dollars,
even though you gave it to charity. Now you don't."

"It was always a 'recommended donation' so we didn't run afoul of
the prostitution laws. For a while we had a 'recommended'
application fee of $50, but even that is gone now.

"Our operation is supported by donations. We actually receive far
more money than we can use ourselves.

"I also decided I wanted to take money out of our relationship. A
few men were resentful at having paid so much and it showed up
when they were with me, and this policy eliminates that.

"Men are of course free to give money to charities, and I even
have listed some of my favorites, but it's totally up to them."

"They say you are fabulously wealthy."

She laughed. "I would be. Incredible as it may sound, I have to
work hard to get rid of all the money people give me. Consider
that these men usually have never married and tend to be socially
isolated. Many have buried themselves in their careers. I am in a
great many wills. One bequest amounted to $7 billion.

"I encourage men to give to charities of their own choice, not to
me. And the amounts charities report that are given in my name
are astronomical."

"With all those billions you receive you are a very powerful
person."

Sarah paused a moment. "I try to get involved in the money as
little as possible. My gift is love, not money.  I do keep $20
million for myself, mostly so I can instantly give to a cause
that needs my help without having to run it by another soul.  I
avoid luxuries for myself."

She astonished me at the end of the interview by jumping into my
arms and giving me a big squeeze and kissing me on the cheek. She
played the part of a young girl perfectly. When she had gotten
off my lap she said "I take advantage of my ten-year-old
privilege sometimes. I like you."

I just could not think of Sarah as a slut. She was a courageous
woman, a loving woman, and she seemed like a wise woman. I could
not keep the word "saint" from bouncing around in my mind. The
idea of divinity even occurred to me.

-------
Bill Weatherby was 82 and in poor health, and because of a turn
for the worse Sarah had made time for him. She met him at the
door and gave him a big hug. Taking him by the hand, she led him
to the bed, then lay back on it.

She encouraged him to look at and touch her as he wished. With
trembling hand Weatherby slid open Sarah's robe to reveal her
girl's body beneath. He stroked his hand all over her torso and
thighs. He bent down and licked on her nipple. And as she spread
her legs for him, he slid a finger up into her vagina and slid it
back and forth gently before just holding it inside. And he
mumbled to himself, "I can do this and I am not abusing a little
girl."

Weatherby himself decided it was time to stop rather than having
Sarah tell him his time was up, and for whatever reason she got
up and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek and whispered, "I'm so
sorry. You deserved more in your life." He died three days later,
but he thought of his time with her constantly, and felt at peace
as never before.


==================================================================

I'm always eager for comments, whether good, bad or mixed.
Comments to sterling27@live.com.
 		 	   		  
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