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 This is an erotic story featuring adults and children.  If you don't want
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   Jenny's Couch Book II, part 16 (Mg, mg, teen, ped, prost, cons, reluc,
humil, oral, anal, tg, mild scat) by Rufus Fugit

   I had to close my eyes.  Things were just too intense.  Even in the dark
behind my eyelids, it was almost overwhelming.  The aroma of Karen's
twelve-year-old cunt was thick in my nostrils, competing with the sharp,
slightly bleachy smell of Stanley's semen drying in streaks across her
blushing cheeks and neck and puddled between her nascent titties.  I was
sitting on the couch with my head leaned back.  Stanley was to my left and
Karen's naked preteen body lay across us.  Her head was in Stanley's lap
with his softened, slimy penis draped across the bridge of her upturned
nose.  Her legs lay across mine.  Her drooling sex was hot against my left
thigh.  The leg of my trousers was soaked with the creamy goo that oozed
steadily from between her swollen, reddened labia.  As her lithe preteen
body shivered and twitched with arousal she pushed against me and I felt
the thrumming of the vibrator shoved up her ass.

   Her panting was harsh in my ears.  Every breath came out as a hoarse
little moan.  The sixth-grader struggled ineffectually to free her hands.
Stanley had her wrists clamped together and held out over her head,
preventing her from touching herself.  Every minute or so, he or I would
give her just a taste of what she was so desperate to have.  I reached out
and dug my thumb and middle finger into the apex of her slit, trapping her
oversized clitoris, hot, slick, and swollen, between my digits.  I gave the
tortured bud a quick, hard flick.

   "GAAH!" Karen's whole body jerked and there was fresh heat and moisture
on my thigh as a small squirt of juice hit the already-drenched fabric. 
"Please," she whined, her voice catching in a sob.  "Pleaaaaaaase..."

   "Shut up, whore," came Stanley's bored-sounding reply, accompanied by
the soft smack of his hand against sweaty skin.  Karen's voice trailed off
into incoherent whimpering.

   To my right the sounds were equally interesting.  Paul and Renee grunted
rhythmically, the sixteen-year-old boy's voice in counterpoint to Renee's
much higher pitch.  I shifted slightly and the uncomfortable pull of the
tight, precum-dampened cotton of my underpants made the urge to cum recede
slightly, enough that I dared open my eyes to see how my ten-year-old lover
was doing.

   Paul knelt on the floor with his head and upper chest on the couch
cushion.  His fists clenched and unclenched against the nubbly fabric.  His
knitted hoodie was rucked up under his armpits and his shorts were tangled
around his calves.  Renee lay on his back with her head turned towards me.
Her thick brown hair was coming out of my inexpert braiding job.  The roots
at her hairline were soaked.  Her beautiful naked body gleamed with
perspiration.  highlighting the play of developing musculature as she
moved. Paul was so much larger that her knees were off the floor.  Her pink
little toes barely brushed the carpet, moving forward and back.  She had
her arms over her head, elbows bent, her hands up under Paul's hoodie and
hooked over his shoulders.  Her biceps and triceps flexed and relaxed as
she used that leverage to press her crotch against Paul's backside.  Her
butt hunched up and down as she drove her strap-on again and again into the
teenager's rectum.

   Paul groaned and Renee gasped with each fresh anal penetration.  The
man-sized latex dildo made a sloppy wet sound as it scraped forwards and
back against the teen's stretched sphincter.  Renee's eyes were wide and
blank, her expression vacant as she concentrated on the sensations of heat
and pressure in her own immature crotch.  Her mouth was open and a small
trickle of saliva puddled on Paul's pale back.

   I scooted over, pushing Karen's feet up so that her knees bent and her
coltish legs fell open.  Her thin inner labia split open, revealing the
burgundy of her most intimate passage and releasing another wave of the hot
scent of preteen arousal.  Sighing with pleasure, I gently stroked my hand
over Renee's sweaty back.  The child's olive skin was damp and hot as a
furnace.  Playfully, I gently snapped one of the strap-on's elastic bands
before resting my hand on her flexing butt.  "How's it going, there?" I
asked.

   Renee's eyes slowly focused on me and her flushed face lit up with a
rare smile.  "This is cool!" she exclaimed, her hazel eyes dancing.  "Way
better than...ooo...doing Karen...ahh!" She tensed as she pulled herself
forward to yet again bury her prosthetic to the hilt in Paul's ass.  We'd
discussed that before.  Renee fucked her big sister for Karen's sake, not
her own.  She loved the older girl and was always willing to help slake the
desires that burned out of control in her twelve-year-old body, but the
sexual satisfaction from their incest was all on Karen's side.

   "Paul, how you doing?" The boy had has head turned away; all I could see
was has mass of dark brown curls.

   "OK," he managed, and grunted as Renee pumped him again. 
"But...unh...how much more?"

   The kid was a trouper.  He deserved a little help.  "Renee," I said,
stroking damp hair away from her cheek, "You don't want to be selfish when
you're fucking a boy." I slid my hand along her right arm, gently removing
her hand from Paul's shoulder and pulling it down around his hip.  "Now
this is called a reach-around.  You know what to do, right?" I knew she
did; for over a year I'd been teaching the child how to minister to a penis
with lips, tongue, and of course fingers.

   Renee's eyes rolled as she felt her way around the teen's boy-tackle. 
"You're hard," she giggled, and her arm started a slow pumping motion. 
Paul tensed, bouncing Renee into the air and lengthening her stroke until
only the tip of her rubber penis split his lightly-pimpled ass cheeks.

   As the fourth-grader flexed her glutes and pulled herself back down, I
reached under to guide her hand.  "You can also tug on his sack, just a
little bit, like that.  Lots of boys like it.  But don't let him squirt
yet. If you feel him getting close, squeeze it.  You know how.  I know he
wants to save that for your sister." From my other side came a slap and a
louder moan.  A glance over my shoulder showed me Karen was struggling a
bit harder now to free herself, without any notable success.

   Renee quickly discovered that stroking Paul off made for a more exciting
ride, as the boy jerked and bucked beneath her.  Her breathing got heavier
as she fought to stay deeply penetrated.  After a couple of minutes Paul
stiffened and groaned while Renee's arm tensed and I could tell she was
squeezing hard.  "I'm...getting tired..." she panted, "I...want an orgasm!"
I loved the way the little girl was completely uninhibited in asking for
what she wanted from her sex play.

   I was ready for her.  "This is the last one.  I've been saving it," I
said as I withdrew the ampoule from my pocket.  I crushed it in my hand and
pressed it under Renee's nose.  The amyl nitrate quickly saturated the
cloth sleeve.  Renee inhaled deeply, her narrow chest expanding as she
pulled the fumes into her lungs.  The effect was immediate and dramatic. 
The child's whole body tensed.  Her legs straightened and began trembling
rapidly.  She arched her back and lifted her tiny proto-breasts from where
they'd been squashed against Paul's back.  Her butt pumped and flexed but
without leverage as she rode the teenage boy like a bronco.  Her eyes
squeezed shut and her mouth opened wide in an "O", and a jerky, ululating
keening was forced out of her lungs.  "oooOOOoooOOOoooOOOOOOOAAA!  AAH! 
AAH!  YAAAAAH!" The ten-year-old moaned as her immature body was seized by
an intense climax.

   It was too much for me.  Between the sight and smell of Karen writhing
in frustration to my one side, and Renee, naked, dripping in sweat, her
body wracked, I couldn't hold back any longer.  I felt my cum rising and I
barely managed to open my khakis and yank down my briefs.  I didn't even
have time to grab my tool before it erupted.  "Unh!" Semen arced and
splattered onto my preteen lover's back.  "Unh!" Another pearly shot
streaked her cheek, ear, and into her hair.  I grunted as more and more of
my ejaculate painted the fourth-grader's sweaty skin and pooled between the
knobs of her spine.

   As the last of my spunk dribbled down onto my scrotum I sagged back
against the couch.  My knuckles were white, my jaw clenched tight.  It took
a deliberate effort to relax my body.  My erection throbbed, drooping a
little more with each beat of my heart.  I was panting just as hard as
Renee now.  I reached out and gently caressed her cheek, smearing my semen
and rubbing it into the her flushed, sweaty skin.  Renee's eyes fluttered
open and she smiled up at me.  Her pointed little tongue darted out and
licked up a glob of cum that had dripped into the corner of her mouth. 
Then she grimaced and her feet scrabbled for purchase on the carpet as the
pink artificial cock sprouting from between the ten-year-old's chubby
thighs gradually withdrew from Paul's distended asshole.  With a soft
sucking sound it popped free.  Exhausted and off-balance, Renee sat down
hard and rolled onto her back.  The shaft slapped wetly against her
gleaming belly.  It wasn't clean.  She lay still, spread-eagled, her
barely-developed chest heaving as she gasped for breath.

   Behind me, her older sister moaned, "Now?  Please, now, can I?  Oh,
please, you promised, my babycunt is soooo hot..." She sounded a little
theatrical to me, at least until the metallic ratcheting sound of handcuffs
snapping tight.  Then her yip of surprise was completely genuine.  Next
came the thump of her bare body landing on the carpet.  I looked over my
shoulder.  Stanley had pushed her off his lap.  The sixth-grader was on her
stomach.  Her arms were pinioned behind her, wrists locked in the blue
fur-lined handcuffs Renee and I had bought for her.  Pushing with her
shoulders, she struggled to draw her knees up.  Her skinny ass poked up in
the air.  Her ass cheeks jiggled from the vibrations of the deeply-inserted
buttplug, and the costume tail attached lashed back and forth.

   I turned back to the younger sister.  Renee had pushed herself up on her
elbows and was staring in mild dismay at the strapon lying on her belly. 
The tip rested almost between her plum-sized boobies.  "Ew," she said
softly.

   "Well, that can happen, honey," I said.  "Do you remember the first time
I fucked your butt?" I sure did.  Right here on this couch.  She'd been
only nine.  I remember the way she'd struggled and groaned, her obvious
discomfort and how huge my penis looked splitting her plump child's ass in
two.  And now mentioning it so casually was one more illicit thrill. 
Renee's face twisted, thinking back to how she'd finished that encounter on
the toilet, her stomach cramping as her bowels emptied.  "Go on in the
bathroom and take it off.  Have you seen Karen washing off Jesus or her
other butt toys?  You have to clean your penis that good, okay?  Leave it
in the sink, and then you can get in my bed and rest."

   Renee got to her feet.  The naked fourth-grader was obviously exhausted.
It had been a long day, even for such a little sparkplug of a girl: the
martial arts exhibition in the morning, then when we got home I finished
our sparring session with a really vigorous buttfucking.  And now she had
just spent a good half-hour practicing how to be a good cocksman. 
Cocks-girl?  Whatever.  Even more than the physical exertion was the
psychic toll from learning how to articulate her sexual fantasies, and then
make them reality.  That was a lot for a ten-year-old to absorb.  She
wobbled slowly towards the bathroom.  The fat, puffy nipples on her
pre-breasts jiggled while the strap-on, incongruously large sprouting from
between her child-size thighs, swung and bobbed back and forth.

   I turned back to Paul.  He was pretty messy, too.  His butthole was
closing up, forcing out a dribble of tainted lube.  There was more
brown-tinted santorum in a wide donut around his star, froth and little
flecks of more solid matter.  "You should go clean up, too," I said
matter-of-factly, as if having the high school boy stop over my house to be
buggered by a ten-year-old girl was a completely normal everyday
occurrence. Act like nothing's wrong - it's not just a song, it's words to
live by.  The boy brushed hair out of his eyes, grimacing as he started to
push himself upright.

   "Wait," Stanley said.  I looked over.  He was sitting up, struggling to
tuck his limp cock back in his underwear.  He had a crooked smirk on his
face, looking down at the naked handcuffed form of his foster sister. 
"Karen'll do it." I raised my eyebrows.  Surely he didn't mean...?

   Karen didn't get it at first.  She managed to push herself upright so
that she was sitting on her heels.  With her wrists cuffed she had to arch
her back, making her perky teacup-sized breasts poke out.  She was
winter-pale.  The fine, almost invisible hairs on her cheeks and torso
caught the afternoon sunlight streaming into the room except where her
flawless skin was mottled with trails of drying and flaking spunk.  The
coarser tuft of pubic hair crowning her treasure gleamed golden.  Her clit
was a swollen, purplish bud squeezed between her chubby outer labia.  She
shuffled around so her back was to Stanley, obviously expecting him to
unlock the cuffs so she could go get soap and a washcloth.

   Instead Stanley put a hand under one arm and pulled Karen to her feet.
She stumbled, off-balance with her arms useless, as Stanley guided her to
where Paul still knelt before the couch.  "Not like that, whore," Stanley
said.  Then he leaned down and stage-whispered in her ear.  "Use your
mouth."

   Karen's body stiffened in shock.  Her face twisted in revulsion as she
looked down at the mess on Paul's backside.  "That's...disGUSTing!  Gross!
No!"

   SMACK!  Stanley spanked Karen, hard.  The naked child yelped from pain
and surprise and jumped in the air.  She staggered and would have fallen,
but Stanley grabbed at the base of her butt plug and gave it a hard yank
and a twist.  "Owww!" she cried as, for a split-second, her entire weight
was basically borne by her sphincter.

   Stanley's weak chin was set and there was an ugly look in his eye as he
stared down at his foster sister.  I saw fear on her face as he stepped
closer to her.  "Use.  Your.  Mouth," he gritted out.  "Whore.  You're a
whore.  You're MY filthy whore and you do what you're told." Tears welled
up in Karen's eyes and spilled down her semen-streaked cheeks as her big
brother almost spat into her face.

   Paul had rolled onto his side and was watching Stanley with growing
alarm.  "Hey, no..." he started but I put a restraining hand on his arm.

   "It's okay, man," I placated, raising my voice so Stanley would hear. 
"They're just play-acting.  Karen likes it this way." Paul looked
uncertainly from me to Karen's shaking nude body.  "Don't you remember?" I
continued.  "It was the same way when you met her.  When I pretended I was
making her suck your cock?  She got so horny she fucked, like, twenty of
your friends.  Man, you should've seen her at the end of the night.  Eleven
years old, cum all over her, and begging for more." I don't think he quite
believed me, but it really didn't matter.  I was just keeping up the
patter. He was mostly listening to his little head.

   Karen, however, was breaking down.  Memories of that Hallowe'en night
flooded her mind in a confused maelstrom of humiliation and desire - the
perverse pride she'd taken in the lust her body inspired in men, but the
shame she felt from being forced to parade naked before strangers.  Past
and present collided as she looked at the cruel sneer pulling at Stanley's
lips.  "But...I thought you, you...loved me," she blurted through her
sniffles.

   Stanley laughed aloud, and when he drew back his hand to deliver another
blow I knew I had to get involved.  The boy just had no finesse whatsoever.
I quickly stood and moved between them, shouldering Stanley backwards while
I took Karen's upper arms and turned her to face me.  Her skin felt
feverish.  "Now, Karen, you know this doesn't have anything to do with
love. You're a whore, right?" I spoke gently, as if reminding a slow
student of an important lesson.  She was looking at the floor between her
bare toes.  "Right?" I insisted, putting a hand underneath her chin and
forcing her to meet my gaze.

   "Yes," she whispered.  Tears continued to spill down her cheeks. 
"I'm...I'm a whore." Her face started to crumple.

   "Shhhhhh..." I soothed her.  "It's okay." I placed my palm flat against
the sixth-grader's belly.  Her little six-pack jumped and tensed beneath my
touch.  I slid my hand down, brushing my fingers through her sparse pubes
at the apex of her mons, then further down into the slickness and
increasing heat of her slit.

   "Ohhh noooo..." Karen breathed out as the pads of my fingers skimmed
back and forth over the protruding knob of her clitoris.  A shudder coursed
through her naked body from head to toes and I felt a rush of hot cream
dribble through my fingers, and heard a soft pat-pat-pat as drops fell onto
the carpet between her feet.

   "You're a good whore, Karen," I whispered into one blushing ear.  "But
you're Stanley's whore right now, aren't you?" She swallowed hard, and
managed a jerky nod.  Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.  Tears were
dripping off her chin.  "And a good whore does what she's told.  You want
to be a good whore for your big brother, don't you?"

   Of course that wasn't what Karen wanted.  What she wanted was to be a
little girl, a little girl who loved her big brother and was loved by him.
But like everything else in her life, that simple desire was overwhelmed,
tainted, twisted, and ultimately swallowed by the ravening sexual appetite
that I had kindled in her at the tender age of eleven.  And now, after a
year of prostituting herself to hundreds of men and boys, of winning praise
and payment for acts she knew deep down were wrong and shameful, of
masturbating herself daily to the point of exhaustion and, when that failed
to satisfy of taking guilty release from incest with her little sister, and
of keeping it all secret from those she loved most...after all that, Karen
could only express herself in one way - through the cunt that burned
between her legs.

   So though her eyes shone and her lashes were matted with tears, though
her limbs shook and her body was weak and hot with arousal, I saw the
sadness and fear in her face replaced with something cold and brittle.  Her
childish features hardened as she looked directly at me for the first time.
"I'm a whore," she repeated harshly, stepped forward and dropped to her
knees on the throw rug.

   Her resolution faltered as soon as her nose got close to Paul's ass.  He
really was a mess back there.  But I got down behind her, reached around
and pried apart the teenager's cheeks, exposing his raw, swollen pucker.  I
could feel the heat rising off her sweaty bare skin through my clothes. 
Her cuffed hands pressed against my penis which gave the first twitches of
revival.  Just as I had done two Hallowe'ens ago, I reached down and
twisted the vibrator filling her anus.  "Do it, whore, do it!" I urged as
she lurched forward.

   And she did.  Shutting her eyes, screwing up her face, Karen opened her
mouth, extended her tongue, and swiped it through the brown stinking foam
staining Paul's left asscheek.  Her whole body shook with the effort of
suppressing her gag reflex as the smell and taste of shit-tainted lube
overwhelmed her.  But she didn't stop.  After painting her tongue around
his cheeks, she lurched and buried her face between them.  Her blond hair
swung forward, hiding her face but not blocking the disgusting sucking,
slurping sounds.

   "Whoa!" Paul jerked his head up and arched his back.  "She's...ah! 
She's eating my ass!  Oh shit, she's putting her tongue in me!" She was
indeed.  Karen's full lips roamed all over the teenager's pimply backside
as she licked, nibbled, and sucked him clean.  She craned her neck down and
Paul gasped again as she swiped her tongue across his perineum and then,
with her nose pressing against his rosebud, sucked his scrotum into her
mouth.

   Within another minute or two, Paul looked reasonably clean but Karen
didn't stop.  She was on automatic pilot or something, and finally I gently
pulled her away and lifted her to her feet.  Her blue eyes were open wide
but unseeing.  Her perky little titties jiggled high and firm on her
heaving chest.  Tears and semen smudged her face.  But around her mouth...I
could hardly bear to look at it.  She looked like a toddler that had
consumed a chocolate bar on a hot summer day.  Even her pert little nose
had a brown glob on the tip.  She licked her lips and grimaced, then
suppressed a heave as the taste penetrated her traumatized brain.

   I was ready with a bottle.  "Drink," I said simply, tilting it to the
twelve-year-old's fouled lips.  Her throat worked as she swallowed.  She
coughed, sputtered, dribbled cheap tequila down her bare belly and over her
oozing snatch, recovered, swallowed again.  The clear liquid was down a
good inch when I finally pulled the bottle away.

   Karen shivered as the raw liquor burned its way down to her stomach.  It
tasted terrible, of course, but it had to be better than what it replaced.
She swayed unsteadily, her thin legs shaking.  I watched her eyes glaze
over as the alcohol hit her bloodstream.  Before I could reach out to
steady her, Stanley stepped around in front of me, phone in hand.  "Damn!"
he guffawed, "That's a keeper!"

   "You idiot!" I'd had just about enough of him.  Grabbing the phone away
I looked at the snaps he'd just taken.  Sure enough, he'd photographed her
from mid-belly.  The picture was obviously of a naked child, naked with
jizz smeared across her skinny, undeveloped body.  I thumbed the pics into
the trash.  Then I held the device right up close to Karen's face.  She
flinched away, but I got a good picture, this one just head-and-shoulders.
Since smell-o-vision was not yet a reality, there was nothing incriminating
if you didn't already know what you were looking at.  "This was your idea,"
I told him.  "So you get to clean her up.  Go wash her face so Paul can
enjoy her." I swear he sulked at me.  "What the fuck?  What are you, ten?
You're a man, act like it.  Take responsibility for your whore." Stung by
the contempt in my voice, Stanley roughly shoved Karen's bare shoulder. 
She twisted, barely able to keep her balance with her arms immobilized, and
stumbled off towards the bathroom.

   Paul stared stupidly at her retreating back, her ass twitching as the
costume tail emerging from her anus lashed back and forth.  He had rolled
over onto his back, legs splayed, his rampant erection hard against his
belly.  His sack glistened with Karen's saliva.  I barely had time to
suggest that he finish undressing when from the bathroom there was a loud
thump and the sound of Karen crying in pain.  Her cry was cut off by a
splash, and then the whoosh of the toilet flushing.  Jesus fuck, that was
the last fucking straw.
   To be continued...