Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 New Story: Desperate Little Girl, Chapter 1 Mf, ped, rape, cons, noncons,
exhib

   I first noticed Angela about a month ago, I guess.  I had probably
passed her on the street a dozen times before my mind was not so full of
other things that it connected that she was there.  Quickly let me tell you
a bit about myself.  I'm 45, tall and thin.  I got out of prison three
years ago after serving eleven years of a fifteen year sentence for
molesting a 10 year old girl.  Ever since then I've been reporting to my
probation officer every month and working at keeping my nose clean.  I am
fascinated by little girls and masturbate three or four times a day
thinking about them.  Somehow in my misery and loneliness I missed spotting
such a wonderful target child.  Now she was in my sights.  I faced an
instant dilemma...  do I risk going back to prison - for life this time -
or do I taste the forbidden fruits again?

   The day I first became aware of her I was headed to my piss ant job as
usual.  After serving a quarter of my life behind bars I still had child
support payments to make, parole payments to make, and somehow I had to
scratch out enough to live on.  At least I wasn't wearing a monitor.  When
you have a record like mine you're damned lucky not to be living in a
mission or under a freaking bridge.  With my college degree in biology, a
reasonable head on my shoulders, and tremendous drive to succeed, I had
landed a job as a research lab tech.  It wasn't much of a job, routine as
hell, but it did afford me access to a well-supplied lab and enough money
to keep going.  With my record my chance of advancement was zero so in
prison or in the free world, the future looked bleak.  Angela might
brighten up the here and now.  If I had known everything about Angela that
I know now, I'd never have gotten involved.

   The next morning I saw her again.  She was wearing the same dirty jeans
and oversized flannel check shirt she had on the day before.  Her feet were
bare and dirty, her toenails painted blue, and her light brown hair was
tied back in a ponytail.  The shirt was unbuttoned to about mid chest
exposing her only slightly developed chest.  I judged her to be about 11 or
12 years old.  The jeans were ripped at the knees.  I guessed that was done
on purpose rather than by accident.  Her face was reasonably clean,
evincing an effort on her part to care for herself.  She was thin, probably
more from lack on nourishment that from metabolism.

   "Hi, little girl," was the brilliant line I came up with.  She looked up
at me, squinting in the morning sunlight.  She looked me up and down before
she spoke.

   "Why you talking to me?" She asked.

   "I saw you here yesterday.  I thought you might need some help."

   "I don't need no help, mister." Her defiance only slightly surprised me.
No doubt other men had hit on her for exactly the same reason I was.  I
just had to be better at my craft than they were.  She turned slightly and
I caught sight of her left nipple as the shirt bulged out.  My cock reacted
as expected.

   "No worries.  Just thought you might want to go to McDonalds for a
hamburger sometime.  Maybe get some ice cream."

   "McDonalds?  You'd take me to McDonalds?" I could tell I'd hit a hot
button.  My cock jumped again.

   "Sure, if you want." I saw her smile for the first time.  It wasn't much
of a smile, more like a big grin, but it was an opening.  I knew I had a
shot at this little street urchin.  Fantasies began to swirl in my head and
I wanted to jack off looking at her.  "Tell you what...  I get off work at
4.  I'll come by and if you're here we can go then." The deal was made and
reluctantly I headed off to my meaningless job.  You can guess where my
head was all day.  I couldn't stop thinking about her left nipple on her
little slightly developed chest.

   My boss probably wondered why I went to the bathroom so many times
during the day but I had five great orgasms as I masturbated waiting for
the clock to finally reach four.  There was no doubt in my mind that I was
going to have this child.

   Angela was waiting for me, sitting next to the stoop where I'd seen her
this morning.  She still had on the same jeans.  Her flannel shirt was
unbuttoned and tied just below her chest and she wore flip flops on her now
reasonably clean feet.  She had obviously brushed her hair and more
carefully tied it up in her ever present ponytail.  It was if she had got
ready for a date with me.  I realized that a trip to McDonalds meant
something to her.

   We got a few stares at McD's but I ignored them.  One guy saw through me
immediately.  I imagined he wished he had found her first.  Angela downed
not one but two Happy Meals and sat the little toys on the table between
us, fiddling with them childishly.  Seeing her act like a child filled me
with more lust than I had felt earlier.  She was a child.  And I was going
to do her.

   At the slurping sound of her empty cup, Angela looked at me, wondering
what was going to come next.  This was not her first time to be approached
by an older man.  Was he going to say goodbye and wander off or try to get
her to have sex with him?  Sex was not appealing to her yet.  At 11 years
old she lacked the hormones that would overtake her in a year or two, but
she'd suffered through and had to accept that sex was part of her life. 
Sex was why she was on the street; sex was what had chased her from the
home she had known most of her young life.  Sex was the driving force
behind Angela's poison.  It would take me almost a year to understand that.

   "Can I go now, mister?" I was stopped by her question.  She wanted to
leave.  I'd fulfilled my offer to her.  Now she wanted to leave.

   "Of course you can go.  But first, can you tell me your name?  I'd
really like to get to know you."

   "Why?"

   "Why what?  Why do I want to know your name?"

   "No.  Why do you want to know me?  I'm just a kid.  You're an old man."
I had to think quickly.  I had to outsmart a street smart girl.  I slumped
a bit in my chair.  I let out a bit of a sigh.  I looked at my hands and
acted as if I was about to share a secret.  I looked up into her brown
eyes.

   "OK, I'll tell you why, little girl." I paused more for effect.  I
already had my plan in mind.  "I was a street kid for a year when I was 10.
I don't even know how I lived through the year." Could I actually make a
tear run down my cheek?  "Then, just before I turned eleven, someone took
me in.  They were nice to me.  They let me sleep in their bed, they bought
clothes for me.  They let me go to school.  They were my family." Yep,
there goes that tear I was trying so hard to force.  Great effect!  "Ever
since then, since I grew up, I've been hoping to be able to do the same for
someone." Another pause as I dropped my glance back to my hands.  "I
thought for a minute that that person might be you."

   Nothing more was said for what seemed like awhile.  When I finally
looked up at Angela she was crying.  Not sobbing or anything like that, but
tears were streaming down her face making little dirty pathways to her
chin. I patted her little face with my napkin.  She was swallowing hard,
trying to regain control.  She stopped fiddling with the toys and looked in
my eyes.

   "You mean that?" she asked quietly, not wanting to believe me for a
minute.  "You mean you'd take me in and be my family?" I slightly nodded,
wanting her to believe that I was almost reluctant to do so.  She instantly
brightened up and her entire mood changed.  "My name is Angela.  I'm almost
12 and I sleep in a box under the stoop you saw me sitting on.  The people
in the house let me eat their left over stuff sometimes.  They have a boy
who always tries to feel me up and I hate him..."

   Angela prattled on for ten minutes before taking a breath.  I learned a
great deal about her, about her losing her virginity to her step father
when she was nine, about her running away sometime in the past.  She was
very vague about how long ago it had been, apparently having lost track of
time.  I learned that she can read and write and loves to dance.  I shoved
that piece of data away for future reference.  I also learned that she
didn't have on any underwear and hadn't had a bath or shower in a long
time. I didn't learn some of the things I wish I had.

   McD's was getting too full for my comfort and I suggested we leave. 
Angela was on her feet and moving with me with ease.  She continued her
nonstop talking as we walked the three blocks to my flat, a third floor
walkup with a view of a brick wall on one side and the street in front. 
I'd been living there over a year and had never seen or heard any of my
neighbors.  The only way I knew there was anyone else in the building was
seeing lights on in their windows on nights when I came home late from
work. It was a perfect set up for having a child there.

   We paused in front of the apartment building.  "Here's where I live. 
Are you coming up?" This was the moment for Angela to decide.  She paused
for a second, then took my hand and looked up at me from her 4'8" frame.

   "You gotta tell me something first."

   "What's that?"

   "You gonna try to fuck me?" I'd better think fast.  Of course I was
going to fuck her but how do I get her in the house and what do I do to get
her fucked?

   "Let me ask you a question first," I countered.  "How do you want me to
treat you?  Like a child or like an adult?" I caught her.  No child wants
to be treated like a child.  I had her and she knew it.  Now was her chance
to stay or to run.

   "Like an adult."

   "Then that's how I will treat you, Angela.  And sometimes adults fuck."

   "You gonna be nice to me or you gonna hurt me?" Of course I wanted to
hurt her.  I wanted to hear her scream in pain.  I wanted to rip her tight
little asshole open.  I wanted to shove my hard 8 inch cock down her tight
little throat and see her eyes bulge for lack of air.

   "Why would I hurt you, Angela?" I paused for a second then asked,
"Another question...  do you want to be my friend or my girlfriend?" She
gripped my hand tighter and smiled.

   "I'll be your girlfriend."

   "You want to be my girlfriend or be my wife?" She struggled with this
one.  No one had ever asked her to be his wife before.  The 11 year old
child almost swooned at the thought.  She felt her first surge of sexual
hormones and was overwhelmed.

   "Mister, if you want me to be your wife, then I'll be your wife.  Just
don't be mean to me, OK?" We pushed open the door and climbed the steps to
the third floor.