Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Jim Lacey's Angel

   by knight_b_4@hotmail.com

   Story Codes: M/f cons mutual mast ped

   Author's Note: Although this appears to be a standard little story about
sex between a grown man and a preteen girl, I strongly urge you to read it
all the way through.  There's a little surprise waiting for you at the end.
(And if you peek, you'll just ruin it for yourself, so don't.)

   This story involves sexual activity between an adult male and an
underage female.  If it is illegal to read about such things in your
jurisdiction, or if you're not into that kind of story, please delete this
file immediately.  This story is entirely a work of fiction; none of the
events described herein have actually taken place (at least to the author's
knowledge).  The author does not recommend or condone sex with minor
children.

   This story may be posted with no deletions or other changes to a
noncommercial web site or the free section of a commercial website.  This
story is copyright by the author 2012 and all rights are reserved.

   Jim Lacey sat back and re-read the last few paragraphs he'd just
written. Frowning, he used the laptop's built-in touchpad to highlight a
sentence, then rewrote it.  He changed a couple of words elsewhere, added a
phrase in the middle of a different sentence, deleted another sentence
completely, then sat back and read through it again.

   Much better, he decided.

   Lacing his fingers together, he stretched his arms high over his head,
stretching and arching his back, and listened to the creaking and snapping
as spine and fingers re-aligned themselves.  He'd been hunched over the
laptop for a while now, caught up in a creative frenzy.  He titled his head
left and right, back and forth, listening to more creaking and crinkling as
his neck settled back into place, too.

   Jim had come to the park shortly after lunch.  He wanted to enjoy the
warmth of the day while he got some work done on the fourth novel in the
Western series he was writing.  The first two were already out and had been
something of a sensation in their genre.  "Brilliant," "riveting" and
"highly original style" had been just some of the praise the critics
showered on him.  The third book was at the publishers and would be
released in about 6 weeks, and he was four chapters into the fourth.

   The clock on the laptop said it was nearly 3; that meant he had at most
another hour before both batteries were drained and he'd have to find
somewhere to tether himself to an electrical outlet for a while.  "Probably
just go back to Billie's," he thought, the restaurant where he'd had lunch,
and where he'd written most of his first novel and big chunks of the
others. The people there all knew him and liked him, and thought it was
really great that a famous novelist ate there.  The owner had even posted a
small sign: "Jim Lacey likes us, and so will you" with a scanned picture of
Jim's first two books.

   Jim had managed to work most of the people at Billie's into his novels
in one way or another.  Rick, the little old guy who mopped the floors,
cleaned the bathrooms and did most of the light maintenance work, had
become Ricardo, a dashingly handsome but thoroughly evil rancher.  (Rick
had loved that.  Every time Jim walked into the restaurant, Rick grinned at
him and twirled an imaginary mustache.) His favorite waitresses, Kayleigh
and Olivia, had figured quite prominently in the last one as twin sisters,
orphaned at a young age, who were trying to save their ranch from the evil
Ricardo.  (Kayleigh, who was 63, and Olivia, who was 39, were both
delighted to suddenly find themselves teenage heroines.)

   Almost everyone else in the place had found their way into Jim's books,
sometimes in minor roles, sometimes in prominent ones.  He'd even used the
restaurant itself in his second book, but moved it to Kansas City and
turned it into a saloon.  The owner had been so tickled, Jim had eaten free
for a month.

   It was too nice a day to go back yet, though.  Spring was Jim's favorite
time of the year, and this was one of the first days that had really been
warm enough to sit outside in a t-shirt.  He was enjoying it far too much
to go back inside.

   "Then maybe I'd better get back to work instead of sitting here letting
the batteries drain," he thought.

   He switched to another document window, this one holding his plot
outline.  This next bit was a critical setup for events later in the book,
and he had to get it just right or the whole plot would fall apart.  To do
so, though, he needed to have some information on a Civil War era Sharps
carbine.  He had pictures of one, but he had to get on the net and do some
searching for things the pictures couldn't tell him.  He sighed.  Looked
like he'd have to go inside somewhere after all.

   But then he had an idea, and started looking around.

   There was an apartment complex off to one side of the park, and Jim
wondered if he might be able to tap into someone's wireless connection. 
Closing the lid of the laptop, he picked it up, grabbed his thermos of tea,
and moved to a small picnic table set up next to some trees and bushes. 
The chain link park fence was about 10 feet away, and there was a big gap
in it where the fence had been climbed over and through until it was pushed
almost to the ground.

   Jim sat, opened his laptop again and flipped on his wireless connection
while he waited for the laptop to come out of hibernation.  The wireless
really ate power, so he'd probably have to leave soon, but he wanted to
enjoy the sun just as long as he could.  When the computer finished
booting, it beeped to let him know it was searching for a signal, and
beeped again when it found one.  Hoping the connection wasn't secured, Jim
fired up his web browser and, after a short delay, found himself looking at
his home page.

   Delighted, he brought up Google and searched for "sharps carbine". 
After a brief pause, it came up with zero entries, and asked if he'd meant
"sharps carbine." Confused, he looked at his search entry; he'd asked it to
find "shaprs carbine".  Sighing, he clicked on Google's offer of the
correct entry and pages of references popped up.  He was scanning down the
list, looking for something that sounded likely to have the information he
needed, when he heard a young voice say, "Excuse me, mister.  Could you
help me, please?"

   Looking up, Jim spotted an angel standing on the other side of the
table.

   She was maybe 10, with dark, almost black, hair worn short in a pixie
cut.  Her hair framed a long face with almond-shaped brown eyes topped by
long eyelashes.  Her chin was pointed slightly, giving her an almost
fox-like cast, but the total effect of eyes, face and chin was extremely
cute.  "Japanese, probably," flickered through Jim's mind.  She wore a
bright concert t-shirt for some band Jim had never heard of and baggy black
cargo pants.  A Hello Kitty backpack hung from her shoulders.

   Her hips flared out more than normal for a girl her age, promising a
nice butt, but Jim couldn't really tell from where he was sitting.  She
seemed to have a normal flat chest, but the t-shirt was loose enough he
couldn't really be sure.

   Jim felt his cock stirring and wondered if he'd get a chance to find
out.

   Jim Lacey, you see, besides being a successful author was also a
successful pedophile.  For as long as he could remember, his sexual
orientation was towards little girls, from about 7 or 8 (depending on the
girl) up to about 12 or 13.  Mainly, he liked them in about this girl's
range- 10 to 12, when their bodies were just starting to take the first
steps on the journey to womanhood.  And for some reason, Jim Lacey had
managed to get an awful lot of preteen girls naked, without ever getting
into a bit of trouble for it.

   He wasn't a predator; in fact, he thought of himself as one of the
"good" pedophiles, one of those who actually loved the sexy little darlings
and didn't just take advantage of them.  (Whenever he thought that, a
smaller, more honest part of his mind raised a skeptical eyebrow and asked
if there was any such thing as a "good" pedophile.  Jim always managed to
suppress those thoughts.) Jim didn't hang around middle schools and
masturbate in his car.  He didn't seek out little girls and lure them into
nearby bushes.  He didn't walk puppies in a park full of kids, or wear a
trench coat with no pants, or "accidentally" brush up against little girls
in the mall, or anything else he thought of as "normal pedophile"
activities.  All Jim Lacey had to do, apparently, was be Jim Lacey.

   Little girls always sought him out.  It was as if he carried a sign that
said, "Sexually curious little girls wanted.  Inquire within." And there
were a lot of little girls willing to inquire.  He couldn't remember the
exact tally any more, but it was probably more than 30 but less than 50. 
All of them had been more than happy to have his hands and lips and cock on
or in their cute little bodies, and none of them had been unhappy
afterwards, and certainly none of them had ever told parents or police. 
He'd certainly done enough to be locked up for life if it ever came out,
but he was still free and still enjoying sex with little girls.

   As Jim's cock started showing an interest in things, he looked at the
girl and said, "I can try.  What do you need?"

   "I was on my way home from school and tossing my Barbie up so I could
catch her and now she's stuck in a tree and I can't reach her, and could
you get her for me, please?" she said in one long rush.  There was a slight
accent to her voice, but Jim couldn't quite place what it was.  Whatever it
was, it made her little girl voice sound sexy, and his cock twitched again.

   "Sure, honey.  Where is it?" he asked, standing up.  He wasn't sure, but
he thought he saw her eyes flick briefly to his crotch.  Not that he was
hard enough for her to see anything, but he liked the idea that she might
be looking.  Being a helping hand had worked for him before; maybe he'd get
lucky this time, too.

   He thought about taking the laptop, but the park was still empty so it
should be safe where it was.  The little girl gave him a big smile, and
scampered over to the trees, pointing up into one.  (She did indeed have
the cute little bubble butt suggested by the flare of her hips.  The baggy
pants hid fine details, but what he could see jiggled nicely and showed
promise.)

   "She's up there," the little girl said.  Jim walked over and stood next
to her, trying to spot the doll.  When he finally did, he frowned.

   "I don't think I can reach her, honey.  But let's see what we can do."
There was a dense clump of bushes growing around the base of the
hostage-taking tree, and Jim squeezed through to get at a better angle. 
Once past the outer screen, he found himself standing in a small hollow;
bushes grew thickly all around and screened whoever was in the hollow from
view.

   "Better and better," he thought, as the little girl squeezed through the
screen of greenery and stood looking up hopefully at him.

   Jim smiled at her, and she smiled back, a big toothy grin.  "I'm Angela,
mister.  Thanks for helping me."

   "Hi, Angela.  I'm Jim.  And don't say thanks yet, I don't know if I can
reach her."

   She looked distressed at that, and Jim patted her shoulder.  "I didn't
say I couldn't, I just said I don't know yet." She smiled again and moved a
little closer to him.

   "Oh, I hope you can.  She's my favorite Barbie and I don't want to lose
her.  And she'd be lonely if she got stuck up there." She giggled then. 
"Cold too, `cause she's nakie." She covered her mouth like she'd said
something naughty, but he could still see the big grin behind her hands.

   "Well, we'd better get her down then," Jim said with a laugh.  "Can't
have Barbie getting cold toes, can we?"

   "Or cold boobies," Angela said, giggling through her fingers, and
looking up at Jim through those long lashes.  He laughed, too.

   "Nope, Barbie wouldn't like that at all," he agreed.  "Although Ken
might like warming them up for her," he added, winking at her.  Angela
giggled again, nodding, and this time there was no question; her eyes
darted briefly to the front of his pants before returning to his face.  Jim
got harder and felt his cock begin pushing at the front of his pants; next
time she looked, there'd be something to see.

   Oh, not a great deal, admittedly.  Jim's life had been hell in high
school gym, as the other guys made fun of his small package.  Even at full
hard, he barely broke five inches and that was only if he kind of pushed
the ruler into his abdomen a little.  It wasn't very big around, either,
and it had earned him the embarrassing nickname "Smoky-Link" for all his
high school years.  The one and only time he'd made love with someone his
own age, he'd had to watch her contemptuously rubbing her own cunt to get
herself off after he'd failed to satisfy her before he spent himself inside
the condom she'd insisted on.  That had been when he was a junior, and the
girl was a freshman, Dawn Goode, known to one and all as "Darn Good". 
She'd always preferred the more athletic types, and he wasn't sure why
she'd chosen him that night.  Maybe she just wondered what a small one
would feel like.  She apparently didn't like it, because she never had
anything to do with him after that.

   But when he'd graduated high school, and suddenly found himself able to
live out his dreams of preteen girls, he'd been glad for his size.  If he'd
been much bigger, he wouldn't have been able to fuck half the little girls
he had; it just wouldn't have fitted.  Darn Good might not have liked his
cock, but preteen girls thought he was huge.

   He knew he couldn't reach the doll, but he tried stretching up to it
just to show Angela he couldn't.

   "I can't quite reach it, Angela, but maybe if I pick you up, you can,"
he suggested.

   "OK," she said, and moved in front of him with her arms up and her back
to him.  He looked down at her little butt and longed to reach down and
squeeze each globe, but resisted.

   "How about taking off the backpack, so I don't get smacked in the face?"
She giggled, but quickly shucked it and lifted her arms again.  The t-shirt
rode up just a little, just enough to reveal a thin strip of smooth little
girl skin between the shirt and the top of her pants.  Jim stepped close
and put his hands around her waist, making sure he got a couple of fingers
onto that skin.

   "OK, Angela, now squat down a little and when I tell you, jump as hard
as you can.  OK?"

   "OK," she said eagerly, and when she squatted, her butt rubbed on Jim's
thighs.  Too bad she wasn't a little taller, Jim thought, so that was my
dick.

   "On three, honey.  One.  Two.  Three!" Angela pushed herself up, Jim
lifted her (managing to rub her ass across his hard cock) and held her as
high as he could.  This brought her ass into contact with his face, a fact
his cock appreciated even when he resisted the urge to start kissing,
licking and maybe even nibbling.

   "Can you reach her?" he asked, which moved his lips against her butt.

   "Uh-uh," she said, disappointed.  "It's just a little more, but I
can't."

   "OK, let me put you down so we can try something else." Putting her down
was the last thing Jim wanted to do.  He wanted to just stand there with
her butt in his face, feeling his lips on it.  But, he lowered her back to
the ground, again managing to slide her butt across his now fully hard
cock. He also managed to "accidentally" catch the hem of her t-shirt and
pull it up to her neck as she slid down, brushing a finger across a nipple
as he did.

   "Oops, I'm sorry," he said, not sorry in the least.  "I didn't mean to
make your boobies cold, too."

   Angela laughed as she pulled her shirt down, then turned to face him. 
With an impish grin, she lifted it again, showing off her flat chest. 
"That's OK, Jim.  I don't even have boobies yet, see?"

   Indeed not, thought Jim, but what she did have was a cute pair of little
girl nipples.  They were barely darker than the surrounding skin, and there
was only the normal layer of fat holding them off her ribs, no sign at all
of the least bit of swelling.  Jim thought they were very nice, and would
happily have sucked on them for a long time.

   He grinned at Angela.  "Maybe not, but I'll bet when you do, they'll be
nice ones." She looked puzzled at that, then looked down at her chest,
trying to bend her head at an angle to get a good look at them.  Then she
looked back up at Jim.

   "How can you tell?"

   Well, he couldn't of course, but he thought quickly and told her,
"Because you're a cute and sexy little girl, so how could your boobies not
be cute and sexy too?" A child's logic works just fine when dealing with a
child.

   "Oh," she said thoughtfully, then suddenly pulled the t-shirt back down.
She kept pulling past her waist, stretching it tightly across her body and
allowing "her boobies" to poke up the material, just a little.  She looked
down and flushed slightly, suddenly embarrassed.

   "Do you really think I'm cute?" she asked shyly.

   "I think you're adorable, Angela.  When you're a little older, you'll
have to beat the boys off with a stick," he said, adding to himself, "and
when you're a little older than that, you'll be beating them off with your
hand, the lucky stiffs." She smiled at that, but still didn't look up.  Jim
suddenly realized that the way she was standing, she was probably staring
straight at the bulge in his pants.  The thought made his cock twitch, and
he thought he saw her eyes go a little wider, but he wasn't sure.

   "Jim, do you really think I'm sexy?" she added, her blush getting
redder.

   "I think you're the sexiest 9 year old I've ever seen," he told her,
smiling fondly down at her.  Her head shot up at that.

   "I'm 10!" she said indignantly.  "Almost 11, in a few months." He bowed
to her.

   "My apologies.  I think you're the sexiest 10 year old I've ever seen."
She smiled at that, then blushed again and looked back down at his pants.

   "Um, how we going to get Barbie?" she said, apparently wanting to change
the subject.

   "Well, that depends.  I have an idea, but you have to say OK to it
first." Her head came up and her eyes questioned him.  "I think you can
reach it if I hold you up by your butt instead of your waist.  But putting
my hand on your butt can be considered a `bad touch' and I won't do it if
you don't want me to.  You know about `good touch' and `bad touch', right?"

   She nodded.  " `Good touches are ones you want, bad touches are ones you
don't'," she said, quoting right out of the manual.  "But it's not a bad
touch because you're helping me, right?"

   "Well, I don't think so, but what matters is if you think so.  If you
don't want me to, maybe we can find a stick or something and knock her out
of the tree." She looked at Jim's face, then looked back down at his
crotch, then slowly shook her head.

   "No, I don't think it's a bad touch," she said, then shrugged and turned
around.  "Go ahead and put your hand on it.  I don't mind, I just want to
get Barbie back."

   "Go ahead and put your hand on it," echoed in Jim's mind.  How he wished
he could put both hands on it, rubbing and squeezing those firm little
globes of flesh.  And licking them, and rubbing his cock on them, and
squirting cum all over them, and...

   He stopped that train of thought, and turned back to the ass- er, task-
at hand.

   "OK, let's do the same thing as before," he said, squatting down behind
her.  "You squat down, I'll count to three, and then you jump as hard as
you can and I'll push you up." She nodded, and squatted slightly.  He
squatted, put one hand on her butt (unable to resist the urge to squeeze it
ever so lightly) and the other hand on her waist.  "Ready?"

   She wiggled her butt into his hand as if trying to seat is just so, then
nodded.  "Ready."

   "OK, on three again.  One.  Two.  Three!" Angela pushed off, Jim stood
up and extended his arms, pushing with the hand on her butt and balancing
with the one at her waist.  Angela squirmed and stretched and finally
yelled a triumphant, "Got her!" Jim was disappointed; her full firm ass
squirming on his hand had been nice, and he'd even managed to give a
squeeze or two she hadn't apparently noticed.

   He squatted down a little and managed to once more slide her ass across
his hardon before setting her back on the ground and, reluctantly, letting
go.  Angela immediately spun and around and tackled him, grabbing him in a
big hug and pressing her stomach into his crotch while she said thanks. 
She wiggled a little, then stepped back, hands laced behind his neck.

   "You liked touching my butt, didn't you, Jim?" she asked slyly.  "I can
tell, `cause your dickie's all hard."

   Busted.  Now would this lead to more, or would he have to hop into his
car and run before the cops showed up?

   "Well, Angela, I told you you were a cute and sexy girl.  You didn't
think I was lying to you, did you?"

   She shook her head, then stepped back and turned around, putting her
hands on her knees and poking her butt out at him.  "You can touch it some
more, if you want.  I liked it, so it's a good touch, right, Jim?" She
looked over her shoulder and grinned at him then; she wanted to be touched
and if calling it a "good touch" let her do something naughty, she was more
than willing.

   Jim reached out and squeezed her right cheek softly.  "So you like it
when I touch your butt like this?"

   She nodded.  "Uh-huh.  I like it when you rub it, too, especially when
you get near my..." she blushed suddenly; it looked adorable.  Jim grinned.

   "Your what, cutie?" he asked innocently, as he started rubbing both
cheeks.

   "You know," she said, blushing brighter.  "My...  thing."

   "Is that what you call it?" Jim asked, brushing one hand down her hips
and leg, just missing her pussy.  "Is it your `thing'?"

   "Well, Mommy says it's my volvo, but I just call it my kitty."

   "Makes sense," Jim thought to himself with a grin.  "Little kitties grow
up into big pussies." Aloud, he asked, "I think she meant `vulva,' Angela.
Do you ever pet your kitty?" She glowed red, turned her head away from him
and her ass tensed like she was about to stand up, so he quickly added,
"It's OK if you do, honey.  Most people like to rub themselves down there.
It feels good, doesn't it?"

   "Umm, yeah.  Sometimes I touch it at night in my bed, and that's what I
call it, `petting the kitty.' How did you know?"

   "Well, if I had a pretty kitty like I bet yours is, I'd want to pet it
too," he said.  His hand slid back up her thigh, and came to a rest just
under her hips; if he lifted his finger an inch, he'd be stroking her slit.
Hairless almost certainly, he thought, and he felt precum leaking from his
cock.  He liked hairless pussy best.  It was so nice to lick and suck
without having to pick hair out of your teeth afterwards.  "I'd probably
pet it all the time."

   "You really think I have a nice butt, Jim?" Angela said, trying to move
the conversation away from her kitty.

   "Oh, I think it's very, very nice, honey.  I just love feeling it.  And
you have nice legs, too." He squeezed her where his hand rested on her
thigh, and managed to slide up a little.  The side of his hand was now
resting very lightly against her kitty.

   "Um, stop a minute, OK, Jim?" Angela asked.

   Jim took his hands off her instantly.  He was, after all, a "good"
pedophile.  When a girl told him to stop, he did, even if he was on the
verge of orgasm.  He would never force a girl into something she wasn't
comfortable with.  For Jim, it was as much about making the girls feel good
as it was himself.

   "I'm sorry, Angela, did I do something you didn't like?"

   "Oh, no, Jim, it's not that" she said, flashing him a smile.  She
straightened up, unzipped and unfastened the pants, and pulled them down.
She lifted one foot out, but left them puddled around her other ankle.  "I
just thought it'd feel nicer if I took my pants off." She eyed his cock
again, then turned around and thrust her ass back at him.

   Jim nearly creamed right there.

   Angela was wearing pale blue panties that were so worn they should've
been trashed months ago.  The fabric was so thin it was one very tiny step
from transparent, and there were several holes, especially in the crotch
area.

   Most especially in the crotch area.

   Angela's panties were pulled up into her slit, so her lips overlapped
the edges.  That was nearly enough to set him off right there.  But there
was a quarter-size hole right in the crotch, and Jim could clearly see her
cunt hole through it.  A smaller hole just a little further up allowed her
hard clit to stick out.  Jim was amazed; that would be a long clit even on
a grown woman.  How the hell had it wound up on a 10 year old?  And how
soon before he could suck on it?

   He slowly reached up and began stroking her butt, unable to take his
eyes off her pussy.  Her hole was damp, and as he continued to rub her ass,
a tiny bead of moisture appeared.  He found a hole in the seat of her
panties and slid his finger into it, so he could stroke her bare skin.  She
was warm and soft and silky, and he leaked more precum to join the puddle
already soaking his underwear.

   "You can touch my leg again, too, if you want," Angela suggested shyly.
"That felt nice, too."

   "Sure thing, honey.  Whatever you want me to do, I'd be glad to.  You
feel very nice and soft and sexy, and I like touching you like this." Jim
reached up and began stroking her thigh, once again slowly moving his hand
up toward the junction between her legs.  He pushed a little too hard with
the finger stuck through the hole in her panties, and there was a small
ripping sound.

   "Oh, I'm sorry, Angela, I didn't mean to rip your panties." He actually
managed to make it sound like it was an accident and that he really was
sorry.  Angela didn't seem to mind, though.

   "It's OK.  They're really old anyway.  Um..." She looks so cute when
she's being shy, Jim thought.  "You can pull them down, if you want, just
so they don't get more ripped."

   "I'd like that, honey, if you don't mind.  It'd be nice to touch you
without panties.  You have such nice soft skin." She blushed and giggled,
then, without waiting for Jim, hooked her fingers in the waistband and
pulled them down herself.  As she bent over, her pussy opened and Jim could
see moisture oozing out of her hole.  What he couldn't see was a cherry-
either Angela wasn't a virgin, or she'd lost it somehow, but there were no
obstacles to prevent him from going deep inside her.  His cock lurched in
his pants.

   Angela straightened up, then turned so she was facing him.

   "Would you like to pet my kitty, Jim?"

   "I'd like that a lot.  Are you sure you don't mind?"

   "Uh-uh.  Just don't push hard, OK?  I, um, let one of the boys at school
touch it and he pushed hard and it hurt."

   "I'd never hurt you, Angela," Jim said, and leaned forward to kiss her
lightly on the lips.  She stiffened, then pressed her tightly closed mouth
against his.  Still kissing her, Jim ran one hand up her leg and around to
squeeze her butt, while the other hand slid ever so slowly up her leg
toward her wet slit.  He gently bent one finger so it was laid along the
slit from clit to hole, reveling in the heat and dampness of her soft silky
skin.

   "Oooh," she said, breaking the kiss.  "That's a really nice `good
touch,' Jim.  My kitty likes it when you pet her.  She gets all tingly."

   "I like petting your kitty too, honey," Jim said, and slowly began
rubbing her, feeling the lips part just a little to let his finger slide
into her innermost place.  His fingertip touched her hole and pressed
gently, and she gasped.  "Do you like that, Angela?"

   "Oh, yes, Jim, that feels really nice.  Keep doing it."

   As if I'd stop, Jim thought.  He squeezed one ass cheek and slid a
finger along her ass crack.  With his other hand, he rubbed slowly up and
down her slit, then took her engorged clit between finger and thumb and
started twirling it back and forth.  Angela moaned this time, and Jim could
feel her ass clenching.  He straightened up just a little and sucked a
nipple into his mouth, still rubbing her butt and twirling her clit. 
Angela moaned again, louder and longer.

   "Oh, Jim," she said, breathing heavily.  "You're going to pull the
kitty's tail."

   Jim wasn't sure what she meant, but didn't really care.  All he wanted
to do was keep molesting this little angel.  Well, not quite all.  He'd
really like to shove his cock in her pussy and fill her young cunt with his
cum, but he didn't think she was quite ready for this.

   Or maybe she is, he thought, as Angela reached down and squeezed his
throbbing cock.

   "Can I see your dickie?" she asked.

   "Of course, sweetie.  It wants to come out and play, too." She grinned
at that and unzipped him, then reached in and fumbled until she finally
managed to pull it out through the front of his briefs.  Her hand was warm
and soft, and she wrapped it around the head and squeezed.  It was Jim's
turn to moan, and Angela released it immediately.

   "Did that hurt?  Did I squeeze it too hard?" she asked, looking worried.

   "Oh, no, honey, it felt really nice.  You can keep doing it if you want.
I really liked it," Jim said.  "It felt like when I do this." He quit
twirling her clit and slid a finger down to her hole and pushed.  This
time, he slid in just a little ways and held it there, slowly twisting it
back and forth.

   "Ooo!" Angela squeaked in surprise.  "Oh, that's really nice." She
grabbed his cockhead again and started squeezing and releasing, as if it
was the bulb of a turkey baster she was trying to empty.  Jim slid his
finger in a little further, rubbing the inside of her tight pussy.  No
matter how small he was, he realized he wasn't going to be fucking Angela-
she just wasn't big enough, and stretching it would probably hurt her.

   "Would you like to make me feel really good, Angela?" he asked.  Her
eyes were closed and she was starting to hunch her pussy at his probing
finger.  She nodded.

   "Rub up and down on my dickie, honey.  Wrap your hand around it and
squeeze just a little."

   "OK," she said.  She grabbed his shaft just behind the head and started
sliding it back and forth.  His foreskin slid down over his cockhead and
back, and Jim knew he was going to blow soon.  Angela was hunching her hips
at him harder and harder as he fucked his finger in and out of her hole,
and rubbed her stiff clit with his thumb.  Just as she started to moan and
shake, Jim erupted in a geyser of cum, sending squirt after squirt onto her
arm and into the air.  Angela's pussy clamped down on his finger and held
it immobile while both of them came, but her hand kept stroking his shaft,
even after he stopped shooting.

   When her pussy finally released his finger, he gently pulled it out and
grabbed her hand.

   "Please stop, sweetie," he gasped.  "I can't take that anymore."

   "You pull the kitty's tail real good, Jim," Angela said.  It hit him
then- "pulling the kitty's tail" meant having an orgasm.

   "So do you, honey," he said, and leaned in to give her a kiss.  She
pressed her mouth to his, lips tight together, a little girl's kiss.  It
made his cock twitch.  "That was very nice.  Did you like pulling my
kitty's tail?  I sure liked pulling yours."

   Angela giggled.  "Your dickie is even like a tail, huh, Jim?"

   Jim grinned.  "Yep, and you pulled it really nice, honey.  You can pull
my dickie whenever you'd like, honey."

   "Can I pull it tomorrow, Jim?  I have to get home now, but I'll be here
tomorrow at the same time, if you want me to." She giggled again.  "And you
can rub me, too.  I like it a lot when you do that."

   "That sounds fun, Angela," he said.  "But only if you're sure you really
want to.  You know, some people would say we shouldn't do things like this,
and they'd send me to jail if they found out."

   "Oh, I won't tell anyone," Angela said.  "I want you to, so it's a good
touch, so I don't care what anyone else says." She began pulling on her
panties.  "I want to do it, and I'm going to be here tomorrow so we can do
it again." She stopped, panties halfway up her legs.  "If you want to, that
is," she quickly added.

   "Of course I do, honey," Jim said.  He hugged her tightly, and felt his
cock rubbing across her stomach.  "You're a nice girl, and I like having
fun with you." She hugged him tightly, and rubbed her stomach on his wilted
dick, which was threatening to stand up again.

   Both of them dressed rather quickly after that and, with one more hug,
Angela bid him goodbye and walked off through the gap in the fence,
clutching her Barbie.  Jim watched as she disappeared around the corner of
a parking garage; she stopped long enough to wave at him and smile, then
she was gone.  He returned to his laptop, grinning and humming to himself.

   As she went behind the garage, Angela...  changed.  No human language
has the words to describe it, so let's just say that Angela became a tall,
glowing figure with large white wings.  She was no longer a she, nor a he,
but not really neuter either; again, there are no words.  So let's just
continue to call her "her" and "Angela," since her name was
unpronounceable.

   Angela opened her mind in what can best be described as "looking up the
records" on Jim Lacey.  Born June 12, 1927.  Died October 8, 2007.  Married
Edith Cooper Jul 18, 1949.  Three children.  Worked all his life as a
bookkeeper at a small factory which made drills.  Active in the church,
active in charity work, helped out weekends at a homeless shelter.  Wrote
several novels, never published because they were, frankly, not any good.
Lifelong pedophile, but never touched or harmed a child in his life.

   On balance, a decent life and one that had earned him his place in
heaven.  And according to the rules, Angela as his guardian angel (which
she's really not, but again, language fails to provide words for what she
really is) is required to spend eternity (at least until she's reassigned)
providing him with everything that Lacey would view as heaven.

   Which meant making him a successful novelist, and a successful
pedophile. And that bothered her.

   Her last assignment before Lacey had kept her on Earth for a number of
centuries, and she'd picked up some of the attitudes of humanity.  To her,
pedophilia was wrong and sick.  Yet here she was, pretending to be the
little girl for a pervert's satisfaction.  It just struck her as wrong.

   But, she had no choice.  Heaven's rules were quite clear, and as long as
a soul made it this far, it was up to Heaven to provide everything that
soul desired.  Sighing, she transformed herself into a slightly older girl,
this one with apple-sized breasts and a vagina that Lacey could actually
fuck.

   He was scanning down the Google list for "sharps carbine," looking for
something that sounded likely to have the information he needed, when he
heard a young voice say, "Excuse me, mister.  Could you help me, please?"

   Looking up, Jim Lacey spotted an angel standing on the other side of the
table.