Eleven - Part 1

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*** 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.