Eleven - Part 1 *** Please send feedback to jadeeb94 (at) gmail.com *** *** Everything in my stories is 100% fiction! Children are precious - It's fine to fantasize, but NEVER actualize!! *** I never planned to be a criminal. In fact I always thought of myself as an upright citizen. But some things are too strong for the human will to resist. This may turn into a long story, so I'd better start by telling you a little about myself. I'm thirty-two years old, I have an Ivy League degree and an MBA, and until recently I was right there in the rat race with the best of them. I made some good money, but most of it got swallowed up by the high life I was living and by the cost of real estate. Then a couple of years ago I got laid off from my job in finance, and on a whim I decided to sell my studio apartment in Greenwich Village and buy a house in New Jersey. I guess I'd just had enough of the city life, and wanted some greenery and some quiet. I didn't move on my own. My girl friend, Angela, came with me. We hadn't been living together in New York, but with the move, we thought it made sense to take things to the next level. We bought a three-bedroom colonial in Upper Cranston. That's *Upper* Cranston - the residents there don't like you to forget that. They think it's a cut above plain old Cranston, and it certainly is a pretty little town, with big white-painted houses, leafy streets, and lots of greenery. Most of the people who live there are stockbrokers and traders in the City. It's only half an hour by bus from 42nd street, and there's a train service into downtown Manhattan. At first I was hoping to be one of those commuters, but that's not how it worked out. When I couldn't find a new job, I started doing consulting work for a big research outfit in the City. Then I realized I liked the lifestyle, so I set myself up as an independent consultant, and began working for three or four clients. The money was nothing like what I'd been making, but I enjoyed the work, and I really appreciated the freedom of working from home and setting my own schedule. The other thing about this new situation was that it allowed me to pursue my dream, which was to become a professional photographer. I'd been interested in photography since I was a kid, and during my high-rolling days I'd bought a stack of top-of-the-line equipment. And I had some good pictures to show for it, too. Most weekends, Angela and I would go out with our cameras and find interesting places to shoot. We'd shoot families picnicking in the park, we'd shoot the Labor Day parade, we'd shoot wild birds in the New Jersey marshes, we'd drive out to little old towns on the coast. Angela and I had actually met in a photography club in the City, so cameras and photography were the cement the bound us together. Angela was still working, in an advertising agency in midtown, so she was the one that got on the bus each morning, leaving me to clean up the breakfast and decide how to spend my day. I bought my place in March, and by the time I was getting used to this new life it was summer. Upper Cranston has a beautiful swimming pool, in a big field just a little out of town. Once the weather warmed up I became a fixture there. I guess at this point I need to explain something else about myself - something that's more on the dark side. I don't really know how to lead up to it, so I'll just take a deep breath and out with it. For as long as I can remember, I've been attracted to young girls. I expect you get my drift, but just in case, I'd better spell it out. I mean, very young girls. You've probably all read Lolita, and that's about the age range that I'm talking about. You know, ten to twelve years old. Preteen. What I think of as the quicksilver years, when a girl is touched with that magical, fluid, slender, mercurial grace that fills people like me with the most exquisite, unbearable, unfulfillable longing. I won't go into all the details of how during my teen years I slowly realized I wasn't like other people, or how I struggled and resisted this "unnatural" perversion, or how I finally learned to accept who I am, even if I'm not happy with it. If you stay with this story, I'll talk more about it later, since I assume that if you're reading this you probably have the same tendencies that I do. Suffice it to say that I believe there are a lot more of us out there than most people think, and if people could really talk about it openly, they might realize that the horrific persecution we suffer is also the greatest hypocrisy of our age. You might wonder how I squared this with my relationship with Angela. Well, all I can say is, I loved Angela - still love her, actually - and we managed to have a perfectly healthy sex life. Perhaps it didn't hurt that Angela was a petite Chinese-American with a delicious young body. But she was an adult when it came to sex, no doubt about that. We were still young and in the first thrill of love, so our sex life was actually pretty steamy. But somehow, the more I had sex with Angela, the hotter I got for those slender little-girl bodies of my dreams. The pool opened in time for Labor Day weekend, and a few days later the school term ended, and the kids began showing up. I would usually arrive around one or two in the afternoon, and by three or so the place was humming - by Upper Cranston standards, I mean. It was pretty much the same group there most days. There were a few moms there with their little kids. There was a hard core of women, and one or two guys, who came to work on their tans. Well, who knows what they were doing there really? Perhaps those guys with their oiled black bodies were there for the same reason as me. And that was to enjoy the third group who came to the pool: the school-kids. There were usually about eight or ten of them, and for some reason, they were mostly girls. They would come on foot or by bicycle, or they'd be dropped off by their moms, and they'd stay for hours, sunbathing by the poolside, gossiping and laughing together, and of course playing in the water. I would do my best to look as though I was minding my own business, but my eyes were feasting on them under my dark sunglasses. There was a core group of four or five girls who were there almost every day. Pretty soon I'd even learned their names. First there was Alana. She was a slightly plump girl, who I could already see would run to fat one day. I guessed from her skin and hair color that she might be Italian-American. And of them all, she was physically the most developed. She already had a bust, and her hips had filled out a little. But her olive skin glowed with health and youth, and her smooth thighs were firm and strong. Her great big brown eyes glowed with laughter and play - she was still a kid all right! She was the most playful in the water, always full of fun and mischief, always ready to join in. And when she pulled herself out with her smooth, muscular arms, the water slid off her dark skin like the flash of a mirror. She wore a tight-fitting, dark-blue one-piece swimsuit that beautifully showed off her plump, firm figure. I loved watching it stretch over her smooth buttocks as she bent down to dive into the water. There are no laws against using your imagination, and my favorite game in the hot July afternoons was to stand in the water against the edge of the pool, and in my mind do anything I wanted with those beautiful creatures. I would take Alana the moment she pulled herself out of the pool, while the water was still glistening on her skin. First I would pull that tight blue swimsuit down over her little breasts. They'd be pure white next to her deeply tanned chest and shoulders, and her nipples would be little dark rosebuds on those smooth white mounds. I'd take each nipple in my mouth and suck on it a little, as I smoothed the swimsuit down over her hips. I'd run my tongue down her middle, past her belly-button, and into the little clump of newly-grown hair above her private parts. Then I'd turn her around, and enjoy those beautiful smooth, firm buttocks - they looked like they'd been bursting to get out of that swimsuit. I'd bend her down, and plunge my tongue into her slit, from behind. And after moistening and loosening it up with my tongue, I'd waste no time in pulling down my own shorts and thrusting myself into her tight hole. She was old enough to take it! It would take me all of ten seconds of deep thrusting to come all over the insides of her untouched pussy. Then there was Amber. She was an Asian girl, although her parents were white - I guess she was adopted. She was small for her age (which I guessed to be eleven) and her body was slender and tight. Her black hair hung straight down her back, rich and glossy. When it was wet, it glistened like oil in the sunshine. Her skin was a gorgeous dark bronze color, almost black after being burnt by the sun for a few weeks. Her eyes were lovely almond flashes, her teeth perfectly white against her dark skin and tight bone structure. She was athletic, an excellent swimmer and diver, and a picture of health. She hadn't even a trace of sexual development, but her body was as firm and muscular as a young colt. I would take her as she lay sunbathing, her narrow eyes closed against the sun, her slender arms lying by her side. She usually wore a black one-piece swimsuit that was a little demure for my taste, but that showed off her dark skin perfectly. I would strip off the whole thing in a single movement, leaving her white and naked under the hot sun. Then I would just sit and watch, gently stroking her warm shoulders and her rich black hair, as she relaxed under my touch. Once she had gotten used to her nakedness, I would run my hand down her chest and stomach, to the hairless mound between her legs. I would gently stroke the inside of her thighs, forcing her legs to part more and more, until I could clearly see the dark opening of her smooth little slit. I would take her little foot in my mouth, and run my tongue over her toes, while my hand ran up and down her thigh. And then, slowly, as though I were sipping a delicate wine, I would bring my tongue down onto her slit, and run it up and down the smooth edges. When I reached the top, I would run it around her little bump, and feel her shudder. Then I would gently explore the inside of her slit, enjoying the warm moisture and feeling her react to every movement of my tongue. I would gently lap at her until I could feel her building up to a lovely little-girl climax, and then, once I had felt her shuddering to completion, I'd roll her over and quickly come all over her firm little buttocks. And then there was Claire. She was a blonde girl, with fair skin and dark blue eyes in a long, lightly freckled face. Her hair was cut short at the shoulders, and it was so blonde it was almost white. I'm guessing she was the youngest of those girls, and her body was still as straight as a boy's, and rail-thin. Her arms and legs were covered in a dusting of fine blonde down. She wore a white bikini most days, and as the sun worked on her body, she tanned to a deep honey-color. When she lay by the poolside, I could see every bone in her body - her little bikini left almost nothing to the imagination. Her mound jutted out from her middle, and if she'd been in the water, the fabric would stick to her slit, giving me a perfect image of what it must look like in the flesh. She had no consciousness of her body or her sexuality, and she would sit and lie in all positions, her legs wide apart. Sometimes she would practice gymnastics by the poolside, and I would watch in fascination as she brought her thighs closer and closer to the ground - I was sure that her bikini bottom would split wide open from the pressure. Claire was very physical, and the other girls loved to tumble with her like little kittens. She was always throwing her arms round them, or riding on their backs in the water, her eyes blue and laughing under her goggles. My fantasy for her was a little different. It would be getting late in the afternoon, and the sun would already have sunk. The girls would be tired after their long afternoon of play. Claire would be lying on her towel, her knees apart, her hands beating against the concrete. The other girls would be laughing and joking with her. Then Alana would whisper something to the others, and they'd all burst out laughing. Alana would bring her face down over Claire's, and the two of them would stare into each other's eyes. Then Alana would kiss her, right on the mouth. Claire would splutter and laugh, and Alana would whisper into her ear. Claire's face would suddenly go serious and thoughtful. "All right, if you want," she'd say, in a little voice. And, giggling, the girls would playfully untie her bikini top, and pull it out from underneath her. Then Amber would gently ease Claire's bikini bottom down over her mound, and Claire would be lying there naked. Her chest was completely flat, with tiny, pink nipples. And her slit was a smooth, hairless fold of magic. Pulling down her own one-piece, Alana would tell Amber to hold Claire's legs apart. Slowly, with her finger, she would explore Claire's little slit. Then, kneeling over Claire's face, she'd lower her own pussy with its sparse black hairs over Claire's mouth. Claire would begin to lick it, as Alana reached down and slipped her own tongue inside Claire's pussy. The two of them would work on each other's slits, their mouths seeking out the sweet juices like hummingbirds drawn to nectar, as their bodies grew hotter and more frantic. Claire's thighs would pull further and further apart, until their outsides were lying flat against the ground revealing her mound and slit like a flower with its petals peeled back. Finally, panting and flushed, Alana would stand up and turn to Amber. At a word from Alana, Amber would strip off her swimsuit, and lie down over Claire's mouth. Amber and Claire would begin licking each other's pussies just as Alana had shown them how. Amber would be giggling and awkward at first, but soon she would be excited and then frantic. Claire's legs would be stretched wide apart, while Alana would be squatting behind Amber, rubbing her breasts over Claire's face, and licking Amber's tight little behind. And that's when I would grasp Alana's waist from behind, and thrust myself into her wet insides for the few seconds it would take me to spray off all my pent-up desire and frustration. These were pleasant fantasies for a summer afternoon, but of course they were nothing more than that. I've never thought of myself as a molester or a criminal, and I've always been much too scared of the consequences to try anything on - besides, as far as these girls were concerned I was just an irrelevant object by the side of the pool, one of those unknown men who their parents had told them never to talk to. But there was one more girl in the group of regulars. Karen. I've saved her for last, because she is the real subject of this story. She was the one who made me cross that fatal line from fantasy to scary, ecstatic reality.