Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ________________________________ This is a story about a sexual FANTASY
written for consenting adults.  If you're not both of those, don't read it.
Characters in a FANTASY don't get sick or die unless I want them to.  In
real life, people who don't use condoms and other safe-sex techniques do
get sick and die.  You don't live in a FANTASY so be safe.  The fictional
characters in my stories are trained and experienced in acts of FANTASY -
don't try to do what they do - someone could get hurt.

   If you think you know somebody who resembles any of the characters here,
congratulations, but you're wrong - any similarity between the characters
in this story and any real person is purely coincidental, since all of
these characters are figments of my dirty little imagination.

   This is my story, not yours.  Don't sell it or put it on a pay site. 
You can keep it and/or give it away with all of this information intact,
but if you make money off of it, you're breaking the law and pissing me
off. _________________________________ Workin' on the Chain Gang (Mf,
lolita, cons, oral, anal) (C)Copyright 2003 - Shakes Peer2B
shakes_peer2b@NONOsbcglobal.net (remove 'NONO' from the above address to
contact me)
/files/Authors/Shakes_Peer2B/
http://storiesonline.net/ (go to the Author's page under 'S')

   ________

   When my buddy Red asked me to help him out I thought 'Ah what the hell,
just once wouldn't hurt.'

   Little did I realize how addictive it would be.

   See, Red runs the 'chain gang' for one of the local high school football
teams.  For those of you who don't know what that means, let me explain.

   Since first downs are awarded in football for every ten yards that the
team in possession of the ball (the offense) advances toward the other
team's goal, it's important to have some way to measure their progress.

   The traditional way of doing this is a pair of easily identifiable poles
separated by ten yards of chain.  On first down, one pole is placed on the
sideline even with the nose of the ball (in the direction of advance), and
the chain is stretched to its full length, where the second pole is
planted. For accuracy of measurement, a clip is attached to the chain at
one of the five yard lines nearest the first pole.

   My job, for the last few years, has been 'the box'.  This is the pole
that marks the current line of scrimmage, and is topped by a box that
displays a large number from 1 to 4 corresponding with the current down. 
The numbers are changed by flipping levers on the side of the box.

   Traditionally, the chain gang works on the opposite side of the field
from the home team.  I don't know if this is so the announcers in the booth
can see us better or so the opponents can keep an eye on us and make sure
we're not cheating them.  At any rate, except when you have an unruly
opposing crowd, this arrangement works out pretty well for the dirty old
men who crew the chain gang.

   I'm probably the worst letch in the lot, since I've been a widower for
the last ten years, and my kids have long since moved away, while the
others still have family at home.  Nevertheless, I really enjoy watching a
new batch of cheerleaders do their stuff at each home game.

   I also enjoy watching the games.  Those of you who watch football, I
highly recommend high school football over college and professional.  These
kids might not be as polished, but they put their hearts and souls into
every play, and for me, its a bonus to get to watch each and every play
from the line of scrimmage.

   Each opposing team brings with it someone who is responsible for keeping
statistics on its players.  I don't know why, but these tend to be pretty,
but somewhat introverted young ladies.  Perhaps its their way of getting
close to the team in hopes of snagging a football player for a boyfriend.

   At any rate, these 'stats girls' shadow me, as the 'box' wielder,
because the line of scrimmage is the best place from which to see what they
need to see, and I usually wind up exchanging a little banter with them.

   The particular game at which this incident occurred was the big game
with our team's crosstown rival.  Opposing fans were almost as numerous as
home team fans, and just as vociferous.

   There were two stats girls.  One was pretty, medium height, and had a
streak of hair dyed their team's color.  She was also aloof, and shied away
when I tried to swap jokes with her.

   The other was barely five feet tall, and though her face sported a
pimple or two, was quite fetching.  We traded friendly insults about each
other's teams throughout the game.

   Anyone working the sidelines at a football game must be constantly alert
and light on his or her feet.  If the play comes your way and you don't
move you'll get trampled under a stampede of armored, firebreathing jocks
who see nothing but the guy with the ball.

   Near the end of the third quarter, the opposing team had lost some yards
on a sack, so stat girl #2 and I were all alone, eight yards upfield from
the rest of the chain gang, when they ran a sweep play to the short side of
the field - our side.  The defense picked it up immediately, and there we
were, both teams barreling down on us at about ninety miles an hour.  I
dropped the box, and as I turned to run, I noticed stat girl #2 engrossed
in her clipboard.  She didn't even realize she was about to get run over!

   Without thinking, I swept my right arm out as I turned, and grabbed her
by the torso, lifting her slight body and carrying it with me as I took the
shortest route out of harm's way.  She screamed, probably thinking I was
assaulting her.

   When we were safe and the play had ended, I set her back on her feet,
holding her briefly to make sure she had her balance.  It was only then
that I realized my right hand was firmly gripped around one padded bra cup.

   I let her go as if she were on fire, and we both turned red.

   "Ohmigod!" she shouted, breath coming in gasps, "Thank you!  I didn't
even see them coming!"

   I collected the box as she picked up her cleat-printed clipboard, and we
reset for the next play.

   "Are you all right?" I asked, keeping an eye on the field.

   She nodded, also watching the field, "You're pretty strong for...  I
mean...!"

   I grinned, "...'for an old guy'?  Hey, I know I'm pretty ancient,
compared to you and your friends, but I'm not dead yet.  I work out just to
keep busy and I like being in shape."

   She reached up and felt my bicep.  I resisted the temptation to flex for
her.  She was flirting, now, and while that was good for my ego, I couldn't
see it going anywhere, so I tried to keep it friendly.

   We continued trading comments for the rest of the game, and I bid her
goodbye as the teams met to shake hands (we won!).

   The chaing gang had started a tradition before I joined them, of
retiring to the parking lot at half-time and after the game to drink a few
beers and swap stories and comments on the game, and while I wasn't much of
a beer drinker, I made it a point to join them, just to be part of the
team.

   When the parking lot had finally cleared, and the other team's buses had
left, we separated and headed for our cars.  Since I had forgotten how bad
the parking would be when we played this team, I had arrived late and had
quite a hike to get to my car.  As I plodded up the street in front of the
school, I heard sobbing and noticed a huddled figure sitting on the curb
under a street lamp.

   "Are you all right?" I asked.

   A head separated from the rest of the shadow and the tear-streaked face
of stat girl #2 peered at me from the circle of light under the street
lamp.

   "OH!" she said, "It's you!"

   "Yes," I tried a little humor, "as far as I know, it's me!  What seems
to be the problem?"

   "The problem SEEMS to be," she tried a wan little smile, "that the
cheerleaders told the coach I was riding with friends, and the bus left
without me!  I tried calling my mom, but she turns her cell phone off when
she's on a date, and she's not home, so I'm kinda stuck!  I've got no money
for a cab, and the buses don't run out here this late."

   "That wasn't very nice of the cheerleaders!" I sympathized, "Would you
like a ride home?"

   "Thanks," the smile was a little brighter this time, "but Mom wanted me
to wait for her at the school.  She was going to pick me up there."

   "Well," I tried again, "can I give you a ride to the school?"

   "It's Ok," she shook her head, "I don't want to face those cheerleaders
tonight.  Mom will call when she gets done with her date, and I'll have her
pick me up here.  She'll give me a lecture, but then she'll get over it."

   "I don't feel right about leaving you here." I said, "This is not the
worst of neighborhoods, but no place in this town is safe for a young lady
to be alone this time of night."

   As if to emphasize my point, a carload of young rowdies went roaring by,
the guys leaning out the windows and hurling lewd comments at us.

   "Look," I tried, "My car is right up the street, and I only live a
couple of blocks from here.  If you think you can trust me, why don't you
wait at my house, and have your mom pick you up there?  I'll even fix you
something hot to drink, to take the chill off."

   "Of course I trust you!" she smiled (funny, I wasn't sure I trusted
myself!), "I'd like that very much!"

   "My name is Walt," I held out my hand as she joined me on the sidewalk.

   She slipped her fragile fingers trustingly into mine and said, "Angie!
Nice to meet you, Walt!"

   She spoke animatedly about things that mattered to her, dwelling only
briefly on the cruelty of her fellow teens, and I listened, realizing that
this young lady was much deeper than I had thought.

   Music, movies, and boys - the topics I would have expected to claim the
thoughts of a teenage girl, never came up.  Instead she spoke of politics,
world affairs, and the environment.  Her knowledge base was a little
sparse, but the conclusions she espoused were solidly supported by what
little she knew, and, wonder of wonders, when I suggested she think about a
different aspect of one of her topics, she did!

   Her thought processes were a little undisciplined, but her mind was
open, and I found myself deeply impressed.

   We piled into my car and our breath immediately steamed up the
windshield, so I had to wait for the defogger to take effect before I could
drive.  As we sat there with the engine running, she reached over and
switched the radio to a station that was playing a rap song.

   Angie was a little taken aback when I punched the preset button to
return it to my station.  "You don't like rap?" she asked.

   "No, sorry." I replied, not too apologetically, "I realize that with
music programs being cut in more and more schools, fewer kids have a chance
to learn anything about playing an instrument and singing, but that doesn't
help me to enjoy someone complaining at the top of his lungs in bad rhyme
about how much he wants to fuck somebody or kill somebody."

   She laughed at my description, "That's not ALL it is!"

   I smiled and conceded, "Yes, I know.  In some ways it parallels the
changes introduced to rock and roll in the sixties - the protest songs and
euphemistic songs about sex and drugs.  Nonetheless, these days I like as
little stress in my life as possible, and hard rock, hip-hop, rap, all
stress me out, so sorry, but I'll stick to my dinosaur rock, classical, and
smooth jazz."

   I put the car in gear and made a U-turn on the deserted street, heading
back for my house.  We rode in silence for a few moments, then Angie turned
to face me and asked, "Do you think I'm pretty?  Honestly?"

   I smiled and made a point of looking her up and down.  Now that she had
her jacket unzipped, I could see that while she was not skinny, there was
very little extra on her anywhere.

   "Most people who ask that question don't really want an honest opinion,"
I replied, "but I'm going to give you one anyway."

   I looked back at her to see her waiting with a look of apprehenson on
her face.  "I think you are very pretty!  Your face has a pixieish quality
that I find quite attractive, in spite of the two pimples I'm sure you saw
in the mirror this morning."

   She nodded curtly.

   "I also think that you shouldn't wear a padded bra.  Regardless of size,
I think the natural curves of female breasts are much more attractive, and
their shape much more important, than the apparent size the bra adds." I
paused as she thought about what I said.

   "Other than that, I find your figure, what I can see of it under all
those clothes, quite alluring."

   She smiled sadly at me, "You're just being nice!"

   I gave her a leer and said, "Na, I'm just being a dirty old man!  These
young kids don't know what to look for in a woman.  Us old farts have
learned to appreciate the finer points of the female face and figure!"

   She laughed at that, and fell silent as I pulled into my driveway.

   I turned off the car and studied her pensive face, saying "Seriously,
you're an intelligent young lady, who thinks for herself.  That's going to
scare off a lot of people in your age group.  Even as you get older, you'll
find that some people, men and women alike, will fear your intelligence. 
Don't let that discourage you!  When you finally meet someone who's not
afraid of you, you'll probably find that he, or she, is smart, too.  That
will make for a much better relationship than one based solely on physical
attraction."

   She was silent as I unlocked the front door and led her into the den.  I
hung our coats in the hall closet and settled her in front of the TV while
I went to put on a pot of hot chocolate.

   When I returned with two steaming cups, I was shocked to see Angie on
the sofa with one hand down the front of her pants and the other under her
shirt, apparently squeezing one of her breasts.  She was fixated on the TV
and as I put down the tray of hot chocolate, I glimpsed a scene from the
porn DVD I had been watching last night.

   "I forgot that was in there!" I exclaimed as Angie yanked her hands, one
gleaming with wetness, from under her clothing.  "I'm so sorry, I'll
just..."

   "No, don't!" the teenager almost shouted, then more softly "Please, I've
never seen anything like this.  Can I please watch?"

   "I'm not sure that your mother would approve of you watching porn movies
with a single, older man..."

   "There are a lot of things I do that she wouldn't approve of.  What she
doesn't know, won't hurt her!"

   "No," I admitted, "but they could hurt YOU.  For all you know, I really
AM a dirty old man with a thing for young girls!"

   "Oh I hope so!" she didn't laugh, but stuck her hand back into her pants
and gazed lustfully at me.

   I was so shocked, I didn't know what to say.  Being the suave, debonair,
smoothie that I am, however, I wasn't at a loss for long.  "Huh!?"

   "I said," she did grin this time, "that I hope you ARE a dirty old man
with a thing for young girls - especially THIS young girl."

   "Don't tease me, young lady!" I said harshly, "My wife died more than
ten years ago, and dates have been few and far between.  While I normally
don't pursue young women, I am horny as hell and might very well think
you're serious!"

   In answer, she pulled her top and bra - she had apparently unfastened
the bra while I was in the other room - over her head, leaving her torso,
adorned with the sweetest little tits you ever saw, bare and glowing in the
reflected light from the television.

   "I'm not teasing you, Walt" she said in a low voice.  "I really want to
have sex with you!"

   "That's...  I mean, uh," I stammered, then got hold of myself, "that's
very sweet Angie, and you don't know how much good it does my old ego for
you to make the offer, but..."

   She didn't let me finish.  "'But' nothing, Walt!  I'm over the age of
consent in this state, and I'm tired of messing around with boys who don't
know their asses from a hole in the ground about sex.  I've wanted to find
someone who knew what he was doing for a long time, and I'm so glad I met
you tonight!"

   "But your mother...!"

   "...can yell at me, but can't do anything to you!" her face took on a
pleading look, and between that and the hardon in my pants, I lost the will
to resist.  "Please, Walt?  Think of it as a 'thank you' for saving life
tonight - twice!"

   "I'd prefer not to think of it that way, Angie." I struggled to find
some cogent reason not to do this.  I realized, of course, that most of my
objections were habitual fatherly protectiveness, but surely there must be
more than that...

   "Look," Angie said, "you don't have to decide right now.  Let's just sit
here and drink our cocoa and watch the movie."

   "Aren't you going to cover up?" I asked a little huffily.

   "No!" she replied, with an impish grin, "I'm trying to seduce you!  Why
would I cover up?"

   I shook my head and handed her a cup of warm chocolate as I sat at the
other end of the small sofa.  Angie promptly scooted over next to me,
nestled her shoulder under my armpit and laid her head on my shoulder as
she sipped her cocoa.

   The movie, while not specifically about older man/young girl
relationships, featured middle aged actors and young, nubile actresses. 
Angie, with the innate understanding of electronics that her generation
seems to have grown up with, restarted the DVD at the first sex scene -
something I'd been trying to figure out how to do for months.

   She put her empty cup on the coffee table and snuggled under my arm,
just the way my wife used to do when we were first married.  When her hand
went to my lap and started stroking the outline of a tired old cock that
seemed suddenly to have discovered the fountain of youth, I had no strength
to resist her.

   "Oooohhh, Walt!" she cooed, "I need to see this!  It's got to be bigger
than the guy in the movie!"

   'Not hardly!' I thought, but didn't resist when she opened my jeans and
gently extracted my manhood from the folds of cloth.  To my astonishment,
she was right!  For the first time in years, my member was diamond hard and
looked monstrous in her delicate little hand!

   I offered up a silent prayer of thanks for a minor miracle and went back
to watching the movie.

   When the actress went down on the actor's rampant tool, Angie bent over
my lap, saying "I saw this earlier.  I want to see if I can..."

   Her hot little mouth seemed too small to fit my glans, but she covered
her teeth with her lips and pushed.  With a little effort, the purple plum
deformed enough to slip through the constriction and into the confines of
her wet little mouth.  Angie's tongue danced around it, sending electric
shocks up the shaft to my spine.  Undaunted by the size difference, the
eager teen pushed down until her esophagus was blocked by the
blood-engorged head.  She gagged a little but quickly got it under control,
tears streaming down her contorted face.

   Angie came up for air, then plunged down again.  Once more, the girth of
my cockhead was too much for her tiny throat, and she came up coughing.

   As she started to try again, I stopped her, "That's enough, Angie!  It's
too big and I don't want to hurt you!  Just work on what you've got. 
That's the most sensitive part anyway!"

   She suckled me until the movie got to a part that she hadn't seen yet,
then switched to her hand, keeping her head in my lap and watching the
movie around my shaft.

   At this point, I realized that I had already given in to the little
stats girl, so I decided to make the most of it.

   Her breasts were, to me, the perfect size and shape.  They lay on her
chest as two small, flattish mounds.  Her tiny pink, upturned nipples were
centered in small, tightly crinkled aureolae.  They looked so sensitive
that I took care when touching them not to go too far, too fast.  I first
warmed her right breast with the palm of my left hand, firmly applied.  I
felt the nipple soften and flatten until I moved my hand in circles,
brushing lightly against the sensitive tip.  Angie gasped and thrust her
chest into my hand, demanding more.

   I had already seen the movie, so I had Angie sit up and watch, while I
got on my knees and worked at pleasing her.

   The diminutive stats girl moaned and gasped through several small
orgasms as I nibbled and nipped at her sensitive little nipples and
fingered her little clit.

   I worked my way down to her sparsely haired groin and pulled her hips
forward until she was almost supine on the couch.  Diving between pale,
slender thighs, I gently tongued her clit, eliciting sighs of delight as I
slipped an exploring finger into her tight, gushing tunnel.

   I was lost in a world of erotic delights, sending the tiny brunette
through climax after crescendo when she suddenly grabbed a double handful
of hair and yanked my head around to face the television screen.

   "There!" she shouted, "That's what I want!  Will you fuck me like that?"

   "What?" I asked, a little befuddled, "Doggie style?"

   "No!" she wailed, "Tied up!  I want you to tie me up and do whatever you
want to me!"

   "Hmmmmm..." now my dirty old man brain cells were in high gear.  I
couldn't believe this little brown-haired minx actually wanted me to tie
her up and ravish her!

   "Are you sure about that?" I asked, "You hardly know me, and that would
put you completely at my mercy..."

   "I know," she wailed, "but it's not like I could do a whole lot NOW if
you wanted to rape me!  Besides, as big as you are, and as small as I am,
the first time is bound to hurt.  If you try to be all tender and
everything, well, I just don't think I'd be able to stand the pain because
even if I know its going to hurt, my body will still be expecting
gentleness.  Do you see what I mean?  If my body expects it to hurt,
because you're doing it in a hurtful way, I think I can stand it better!"

   I wasn't too sure about her logic, though it did seem to make a wierd
kind of sense, but given that my dick was even harder, listening to this, I
wasn't going to complain too much.

   "Ok, wait here!" I admonished.  I went to the basement, and after
rummaging around in some boxes, finally found the twenty feet or so of half
inch Nylon rope I had left over from some project or other - I think an
abortive attempt to make a hammock.  I took the rope and a propane
fireplace lighter back into the den, along with a very sharp kitchen knife.

   "Angie," I said seriously, "this is your last chance to back out.  If
you don't stop me now, I will cause you a great deal of pain.  I won't
injure you, but I can guarantee that it will hurt - a lot!  Is that still
what you want?"

   I already knew, from the way her breath caught each time I mentioned
pain or hurt, what her answer would be, but I had to hear her say it.

   "Yes, sir!" she was breathing rapidly as she stared at the rope in my
hands, fear and anticipation playing across her features.

   I slipped her jeans and panties off and draped them over the chair where
her upper garments had landed.

   Without another word, I tied a slipknot in one end of the rope and
lassoed her right foot, tightening the noose on her slender ankle.  I made
another slipknot about eight inches from the first and captured her left
ankle within it.  Cutting the loose end, I used the lighter to melt the
nylon into a hard knob at each cut end of the rope.  I then made similar
slipknots for her wrists, leaving the short piece dangling from her left
wrist.

   I raised Angie's bound ankles to just above her face and threaded her
arms between them.  When I pulled her wrists back and bound them behind
her, it forced her legs behind her shoulders, leaving her helplessly
exposed to anything I wished to visit on her.

   I left her there watching the actress on the DVD pretend to be abused
and went in search of a few items for which I thought I might find a use.

   I placed my booty on the coffee table and returned to my victim.

   "Are you ready to be raped and pillaged, little one?" I asked in my best
sinister villain voice.

   "Oh, no, Sir!" Angie pleaded in a little girl's voice, "Please don't
hurt me sir!  I'll do anything you say, just please don't hurt me!"

   I was taken aback, and actually reached for the ropes before I realized
that she was playacting too!

   "Begging won't do you any good, little girl" I growled, "I intend to
have my way with you, and there's nothing you can do about it!"

   Angie was panting rapidly and her little pussy was a river.  I took a
short length of waxed dental floss and made a tiny noose in each end.  I
slipped each of these over separate nipples and pulled them tight, drawing
a gasp from my victim.

   "Open up!" I commanded.  When the bound teen's mouth opened, I stuck the
middle of the dental floss into it, stretching her nipples painfully
upward.

   "Close!" I ordered, "If you let go of that, I'll shove my fist so far up
your cunt it'll knock your teeth out, got it?"

   Angie nodded her head, thus learning that she was in control of the
sensations in her tits.  She almost dropped the floss as her nipples were
yanked and released, but recovered just in time.

   I watched her as I undressed myself.  Thankfully, my cock was
maintaining its youthful vigor, and by the time I was naked, it was ready
to savor the delectable morsel before it.  Angie had continued to watch the
movie, and as the action got hotter, especially at the points where the
young actress' tits were being mauled, she jerked her head spasmodically,
yanking at her distended little nipples.

   By the time I knelt in front of her, she was sopping wet.  I grabbed the
remote and paused the DVD.

   "Look at me!" I commanded.

   When she complied, I shoved my engorged member to the hilt in her
tightly resisting sheath with one long, slow, inexorable push.  I felt no
hymen, but when my cockhead encountered the muscular knot of Angie's
cervix, I just kept going.  Her head flew backward, stretching her tender
nipples painfully.  She screamed through her teeth and every tendon in her
neck stood out with the strain of her vagina trying to stretch to
accommodate my length and girth.

   I knelt with my balls pressed against her ass until Angie took her first
breath, then slowly withdrew until only my glans was inside.  Two breaths
later, I went back in, bottoming out at her cervix and pushing onward. 
This time, I held myself fully embedded and flexed my penis within her
drum-tight flesh.  Angie's eyes went wide and she moaned around the floss,
almost decapitating her nipples as she again threw her head backward.  I
gave her two more slow strokes for the stretching, then started pistoning
her too tight pussy in earnest.

   Pulling her tiny body to me, I stood up.  I raised her diminutive frame
to the tip of my cock, and dropped it.  Angie came, loud and long.  I did
this repeatedly, and every time I dropped the helpless girl on my spear,
she came - harder each time.

   I walked with her into the dining room and let her sweaty body down onto
the table cloth at one end of the table.  Moving a chair out of the way, I
turned her on her side and slammed into her from a different angle.  Angie
came loud and long, but never dropped the floss connecting her mouth to her
tits.

   "Now I'll show you MY favorite sex act!" I told her, as I withdrew from
her gaping gash.

   I nestled my slippery cock into the tiny pink indentation of her anus
and started another long, even slower push than I had used to penetrate her
vagina.

   Angie's eyes got big as saucers, showing white all around, and she
shrieked against the stretching pressure.

   "Push out like you're taking a shit!" I ordered, "If you fight it it
will hurt even worse!"

   She did as she was told and the purple head of my cock slipped inside,
accompanied by Angie's cries and the involuntary spasms of her abused anal
ring.  Not stopping, I continued my glacial progress until I felt her inner
sphincter give and admit me into her colon.

   Had the floss not gotten caught between her lower teeth, Angie would
have lost it then, as she screamed, "NO!  TOO BIG!  TAKE IT OUT!  YOU'RE
KILLING ME!"

   I waited, deeply imbedded in the tight, gritty confines of her rectum,
as her body stretched to accommodate the biggest turd it had ever had to
handle.  Eventually, her moans and cries subsided, and I withdrew,
eliciting a different kind of cry.

   Slowly, I started stroking a half inch at a time, until the impaled teen
began to realize that the motion actually felt good inside her.

   A look of wonder crossed her pretty features as I withdrew and took my
first full fucking stroke.  The pain wasn't gone completely, I still saw a
wince or two as I penetrated her colon, but it was joined by another
feeling that Angie seemed to be finding quite pleasant.

   Again, I lifted her waifish body and started dropping it onto my shaft.
This time when she came, however, she exploded.  Eight, nine, ten times I
dropped her, and she climbed higher and higher with each searing plunge,
until I couldn't hold it any longer, and slammed the miniscule stats girl
all the way down my rampant cock, sending my lava boiling out to flood her
entrails.  Angie, feeling the heat of my discharge, let go a shriek that I
thought would pierce my eardrums, and went stiff as a board, her torso
vibrating like a jews harp as she gripped my invading dick so hard I
thought she would squeeze the blood right out of it.

   Suddenly, her whole body went limp and I laid the unconscious teen back
on the table.  When I felt that my oversensitized member could stand it, I
slowly withdrew, marveling at the lack of blood and the ability of such a
tiny body to accept such a monstrous penetration.

   I removed the ropes and carried Angie back to the den, laying her on the
sofa and covering her with a blanket.

   I shut off the DVD and was shocked to see that it was almost 2:30AM

   I left a light on in the hall, and went to bed.  Sometime later,
surprised that I had been able to sleep, I awoke to feel a small, warm,
naked body climbing into bed with me.

   Now, in a romantic fairy tale, love would conquer all and Angie and I
would have found a way to overcome our age difference and live happily ever
after.  Fortunately or not, that's not what happened.

   As I suspected when no call from Mom was forthcoming, the devious little
vixen had already arranged to spend the night with a friend BEFORE the
game, and though she didn't miss the bus on purpose, when she saw me
coming, she decided to put on a little play for my benefit (Hey I DID
benefit, so I'm not knocking it!)

   We were both too practical, however, to think that any kind of long
term, live in arrangement would work - hell, just the different tastes in
music would have had us at each other's throats within a week.

   Every once in a while, though, until she went away to college, Angie
would show up at my door wanting me to teach her something new.  I, being
the kind, loving, fatherly type that I am, was always glad to help her out.
I helped her get her nipples pierced (Mom pitched a fit when she found out,
but let her keep them) and kind of acted as referee for her first bi-sexual
experience when she brought a friend over (yes, I got to fuck the friend,
but she was more into Angie than me).  Mostly, though, when she came over,
my little stats girl just wanted a good, hard, satisfying fuck.

   Luckily, she didn't need it too often, and I never had to go to my
Doctor and explain why I needed a prescription for Viagra.

   I still hear from Angie now and then, even though she's married and got
kids.  She no longer comes to me for sex, but somehow I've become sort of a
surrogate father for her.  I kinda like that.