Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 This story is made available under a Creative Commons Attribution
Noncommercial 3.0 Unported license.  You may copy, distribute, or transmit
this work so long as authorship is properly credited and these introductory
paragraphs are included.

   Please send feedback to rufusfugit at yahoo dot com.  I write for
enjoyment; my only payment is knowing that my writing has brought pleasure
to others, so let me know what you think.

   This and other stories available at
/files/Authors/rufusfugit and
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/rufusfugit.htm.  New stories are posted
on Mr.  Double first.  Membership has its privileges.

   I'd like to extend my thanks to the small group of deeply disturbed
individuals who make up my fan base.  :-) Also, please support asstr.org:
bandwidth doesn't grow on trees.

   (For the original A House In Gross Disorder, see
https://muse.jhu.edu/article/44333)

   Jenny's Couch Book IV: A House In Gross Disorder, part 7 (MMMMMMMMmmg,
ped, semicons, oral, a bunch of psychobullshit) by Rufus Fugit

   I had never regretted telling Rubin that my great-grandmother was
Jewish. Until now.

   It had just been getting-to-know-you chat when Jenny had first
introduced me to him.  He'd been part of a couple then, of course, and we'd
been making conversation at intermission at the theater.  The show was
Jesus Christ Superstar of all things, a fun night out for everyone.  That
was, of course, back when Rubin was capable of fun that didn't involve
sticking his dick into his seven-year-old daughter.  Anyway, Eliana had
mentioned something about an event at Temple and I was like, oh, you're
Jewish, and rolled out the family story of great-grandmother castrating a
Cossack while he was raping her, walking across Europe, taking ship for
America, marrying a nice Presbyterian boy, blah blah blah.  After
determining that Hildy was in fact my mother's mother's mother, Rubin had
declared that I was still Jewish, despite being raised Unitarian and my
protestations that most housecats were more religious.  Didn't matter, he'd
said.

   And he'd reminded me of that when my phone rang at oh-fuck-thirty this
morning and it was Rubin, talking some Hebrew (I guess) gibberish about
needing ten men for...something.  He was drunk - he was always drunk these
days - and his speech was slurred but he seemed determined and I couldn't
get him to shut up and when I hung up on him he called right back and
finally, exasperated into wakefulness I said okay and got up, got dressed
and headed over to his house to see what the fuck.

   Sure enough, when I walked in, nine black-hatted heads turned to look at
me.  They were attached to nine black-suited bodies and I was instantly
self-conscious of my wrinkled scrubs, sweat-stained ballcap, and unshaven
face.  Rubin introduced me and there followed a voluble and tedious
disquisition about my lineage among the group.  I thought about offering to
show them my circumcision scar (medical, not religious - look up "necrosing
paraphimosis" and for god's sake don't google it with image search on) but
Rubin carried the day.  He introduced me around and there was much shaking
of hands and thanking me for...whatever it was I was doing.  Most of the
men were older, with heavy white beards.  One of them introduced a younger
man as his son, and two teens as his grandsons.  The only person I
recognized was another guy, older than me but not a greybeard.  He'd been a
teacher at Karen and Renee's elementary school a few years ago.  Rob used
to be fairly chummy with him, I remembered.  A couple of times we'd all
gone out for drinks together, but then he'd disappeared from our circle. 
At the time I hadn't thought anything of it.  I could tell he didn't
recognize me at first, but when he did he looked a little alarmed.  Which
was odd.

   The men began putting on their prayer shawls and some weird contraption
with little boxes and leather straps that got wrapped around their arms.  I
looked at Rubin for instructions.  He leaned close.  He was redolent with
aftershave and mouthwash, almost - but not quite - covering up the sharp
tang of gin.  "You can just sit.  You don't have to do anything, just be
here."

   I put a hand on his sleeve as he turned away.  "But why did you call me,
anyway?  You must have tons of other guys from your synagogue who could've
filled in."

   Rubin just looked at me for a second.  "It's our special minyan.  They
wouldn't understand." Then he turned away and walked to join the group. 
There was some shuffling of feet, some harumphing and clearing of throats,
and just as the reciting of prayers started, my questions were answered. 
Moira came down the stairs, leading Rubin's little daughter, Lilah, by the
hand.  Lilah looked still half-asleep.  Her blond hair was disheveled.  She
wasn't wearing her glasses, and her blue eyes looked a little muzzy behind
drooping eyelids.  Her bare feet thumped softly on the stairs.  She held
onto the bannister with one hand and her nanny with the other.  She was
wearing a long-sleeved flannel nightgown with gathers at the wrists and
frills at the hem that came almost to her ankles.  She paused at the foot
of the stairs, rubbing her eyes sleepily.  Moira gave her a little push on
her shoulder and went back up the stairs.  It wasn't until Lilah walked
past me to join the nine men that I noticed that the front of her nightgown
was heavily stained from the neckline down over her flat chest and belly.
The stain was yellowish, dried, stiff, and crusty.  In the little girl's
wake my nose wrinkled from the faint but unmistakeable stench of stale cum.

   Lilah's demeanor was almost zombie-like.  She barely glanced at me as
she walked past.  She went right up to the oldest man in the group, a
stooped, dumpy little fellow with a pot belly.  He kept chanting from his
prayer book and ignored her as she held his belt buckle with her left hand
for leverage and, as if it were the most normal thing in the world,
unzipped his fly with her right.  She tugged the opening wide with both
hands, then reached in, fished around briefly, and came out with her small
fingers wrapped around a limp, wrinkled, kind of sad-looking penis.  Lilah
didn't hesitate.  She stooped and gobbled the old man's cock into her
mouth. She sucked and slurped noisily, obviously trying to bring it to
life. Without looking up from his prayer book, Rubin reached back and
clouted his daughter on the side of the head hard enough to knock the dick
right out of her mouth.  Lilah sniffled but didn't react other than to
return to work more quietly, using one hand to hold the adult penis upright
and bobbing her head on it.  Despite his rather decrepit appearance, the
bearded oldster must've had some life left in him.  Lilah's strokes became
longer and her jaws stretched wider as the penis slowly inflated, until
finally she was jacking it vigorously with one hand around the base of the
shaft and with her face bouncing up and down the remaining length.  The old
man had been mumbling his prayers.  His voice rose to a quaver as Lilah
stopped, holding just the cockhead between her lips.  After several seconds
she straightened, looking up and holding her mouth open.  She stirred a
pool of fresh cum with her tongue and then pushed it out, past the gaps in
her bottom teeth and over her lip to spill down her chin.  As trails
started to run down her delicate neck she closed her mouth and swallowed.
She tucked the deflating penis back in the old man's pants.  He sagged
slightly as she did him back up, struggling a little with the balky zipper.
Then she patted him lightly on the crotch and straightened.  Her chin was
shiny in the overhead light.  Her blue eyes were dull and she looked
unhappy, but she dutifully moved to the next man in the row and reached for
his zipper.

   I watched with stunned disbelief and growing arousal, shifting on the
couch to give my stiffening tool room to grow in the loose scrub pants.  It
was obvious why Rubin had insisted that I make up the quorum in his
"special" prayer group: Lilah was a featured performer.  The seven-year-old
moved from man to man, her blond head bobbing constantly, in and out of
sight among the black-clad legs of the group.  She sucked each man to
orgasm as he prayed, demonstrating a skill obscenely far beyond her tender
years.  Lilah looked tiny moving among the adults, and her height was
awkward.  Mostly her nose was around bellybutton level so she was too tall
to take an entire cock in her mouth without bending down, but too short to
kneel.  It was obvious from the way she stopped and stretched after the
third mouthful of dick that her back was starting to ache.  After five she
took a moment to work her jaw back and forth so I guessed those muscles
were starting to hurt her, too.  By that time her chin and neck were
thickly coated with jizz, and a fresh stain was spreading down from the
collar of her nightgown.  Her face was a mess, too.  Not everyone had
basically ignored her like the first old man.  Her third trick of the
morning had pulled out and rested his glans on her upturned chin so that he
shot thick ropes of semen across the second-grader's face and into her
hair, as well as dribbling a good quantity across her tongue and down onto
her tonsils.  She'd wiped a clotted eye clear and, squinting unevenly,
moved on.  Number four was the former teacher, and I began to suspect why
he'd resigned.  Probably been allowed to quit rather than be fired, though
I had thought that was getting to be a tougher sell many places for
teachers caught with their hands in the cookie jar, when "cookie jar" meant
"students' pants".  But anyway, he was rough with her.  Once she had his
cock out he shifted his prayer book to one hand and used the other to grab
a handful of Lilah's blond hair.  He got his fingers tangled in her fine
locks right up against her scalp and yanked her off-balance.  It must've
hurt; she whimpered, quickly stifled when Rubin glared over his shoulder at
her - and then her mouth was full of cock.  All the way full.  Ex teacher
pushed into her mouth and yanked her head forward, not giving the child any
time to adjust to the invasion of her mouth and then her throat.  Lilah
choked, spraying out spit already tinged with pearl around the flesh pole.
Her throat worked as she swallowed to quell her gag reflex.  Her chest
heaved as she tried futilely to draw breath.

   Either he was familiar with Lilah's talents, with the way she could
deep-throat like no second grader ought to be able, or he just didn't give
a shit.  He held her face pressed into his crotch until she had turned a
dark shade of purple and her legs were giving way beneath her.  Then he
pulled her back by her hair.  But before she could take a full breath he
jammed her face back onto his penis, filling her throat again and cutting
off her inhale.  He did that three more times, by my
increasingly-distracted count, until the cum painting Lilah's face was cut
with tear tracks and see seemed barely conscious - the last time he was
pretty much holding her upright by her hair.  But finally he grunted and,
just out of pure malice it seemed, pinched her nostrils shut as he
ejaculated straight down her throat.  Lilah coughed explosively and tried
to twist free but he held her fast until he was finished.  Then he withdrew
and slapped his cock back and forth across her face, splashing her with her
own spit and diluted jizz as she fought to clear her sinuses.  Rubin glared
at his daughter again as she smothered her choking and snuffling as best
she could.  She rubbed at her reddened, tearing eyes as she reached for the
next man's belt.

   Lilah was more familiar with the rhythms of the prayer service than I
was.  She swayed in time with whoever she was sucking, shuffling forward
and back in tandem to keep her mouth full of cock.  It was obvious she'd
been instructed to let each load of cum dribble down her chin and some of
the men preferred to spray her face anyway, but when given a chance she
swallowed the hot semen almost greedily.

   The two teenaged boys were last.  The older one was on a hair trigger.
Lilah barely got his organ clear of his pants before just the touch of her
small fingers sent him over.  Lilah gasped and snorted as his first shot
went right up her nose.  The second added more volume to the heavy glaze on
the front of her nightgown, and the third painted across her ten little
toes.  She was finally able to stuff his spurting cock into her mouth at
that point, and milked the rest out of him so hard that he moaned and
almost fell over.  His brother snickered, drawing a silent reproof from
both their father and grandfather.  The younger boy's snicker turned to a
moan itself as Lilah went to work on him.  He looked barely pubescent.  His
face was smooth and rosy, lacking his big brother's wispy mustache and
dusting of acne.  He was short enough so that Lilah actually could kneel
and she did, straightening her spine in obvious relief as she tugged a
thin, hairless penis out of his slacks.  It was small but steel-hard and
sprang straight up.  Lilah had to actually bend it down to get it in her
mouth.  Once she did, she pursed her lips and sucked at it like a straw in
a thick milkshake.  Her cheeks hollowed with the effort.  She put her hands
on his thighs for balance and bounced on her knees slightly to bob her
head. It looked like the boy's eyes actually crossed as he reached an
immature and - as far as I could tell - dry orgasm.  At that moment the
group went into one of the coordinated motions of the prayer ritual, with
everyone taking three steps back.  His cock pulled free of Lilah's mouth
with an audible pop and she almost fell on her face but caught herself on
her hands and curled up on the floor in her filthy, stinking nightgown.

   And then the prayer meeting seemed to be over.  I glanced at my watch.
Lilah had been sucking cock for nearly an hour and a half straight.  That's
a long time for a seven-year-old to do anything.  The men gathered around
Rubin, some of them stepping over Lilah where she lay curled up, coughing,
on the floor.  There were handshakes and desultory conversation as the men
took off their prayer shawls and the leather strap thingys and put them
away.  No one paid any attention to the crying little girl, nor to the
grubby stranger on the couch trying to find a comfortable position for his
raging erection.

   Rubin closed the front door.  He turned.  His smile of fellowship faded.
He ignored me as he went to stand over Lilah's huddled form.  "Get up," he
grated.  Lilah looked up, fear and uncertainty on her semen-glazed face.

   "Did I do good, Daddy?" she asked, blinking cum-heavy lashes up at her
father.  In response, Rubin just grunted.  He reached down and hauled her
up by one arm.  Lilah was a slight little girl and he lifted her
effortlessly.  She wobbled slightly on her feet.  "I'm hungry, Daddy.  Can
I have some cereal?" Rubin just stood there.  Lilah sighed.  Her chin
quivered, making the heavy clot of semen elongate and threaten to break
free.  Eyes downcast, she started to open her father's zipper, the ninth
time she had opened a man's pants this morning.  Rubin held the little
girl's shoulder until she had his penis free.  She stroked it with one
small hand, cupping the glans with the other as it inflated.  When it was
close to full mast, she gobbled it down.  Her eyes were cast upwards, shiny
with tears and reddened from the irritation of being ejaculated into.  She
slowly lipped her way down the shaft of her daddy's penis, working to push
her face into his heavy bush.

   But Rubin wasn't willing to wait.  He grabbed the little girl's ears and
yanked her down while at the same time thrusting his hips forward.  Lilah's
yelp of pain was muffled as her throat was again plugged with manflesh. 
Rubin used her like the yoke on a cheap flight sim, twisting the little
girl's head viciously from side to side, pulling her forward and back. 
Lilah choked and gagged, spraying drool around the tight seal of her lips,
snot and watery cum out of her nose.  Her bare feet slipped in semen and
her legs went out from under her so Rubin was basically holding her up by
her ears as she struggled to regain her footing.  Her hands slapped
ineffectually at Rubin's thighs and her muffled wails got louder each time
her throat was momentarily clear.

   As the merciless violation of the seven-year-old continued I was
distracted by movement on the stairs.  Moira was watching from the landing,
dressed in an oversized white terrycloth bathrobe.  Her hands were clasped
on the robe, holding it modestly closed.  She didn't look distressed at the
sight of her seven-year-old charge suffering a violent oral rape.  Instead
I saw...satisfaction?  maybe even pride?  on her face.

   Lilah was flailing her arms wildly now as the violence of Rubin's abuse
reached its peak.  He suddenly grimaced and threw his head back.  In fact,
he arched his whole body and went up on the tiptoes of his worn black
Oxfords.  This pulled Lilah off her feet.  He was holding her pinioned, her
entire weight supported by his hands twisting her ears and his cock stuffed
down her throat.  He grunted once, twice, thrice, and then he was done.  He
dropped his daughter like she was garbage.  A loud cry of pain an anguish
wrenched itself from the tiny child's lungs as soon as her gullet was
unblocked.  She fell to the floor in a heap.  Rubin looked down at her. 
His eyes were empty of love, empty of compassion, empty almost of
recognition.

   Only once Rubin had filled Lilah's belly with his hot cum did Moira
move. She walked down the stairs, skirting her employer and knelt over
Lilah.  She whispered softly in the child's ear while softly stroking her
back through her soiled nightgown.  Rubin stood motionless as under Moira's
gentle urging Lilah climbed painfully to her feet.  She stood looking up at
him with her hands at her sides.  Her face was thickly but unevenly glazed
with eight men's semen.  Globs of grayish-white protein oozed down her
cheeks.  Her eyebrows and lashes were clotted.  Sperm oozed out her
nostrils, funneled down her Cupid's bow and over her lips to her chin,
where a thick, milky icicle connected to her nightgown, putting a fresh
coat over the crusty stain that already spread down her front.  Her throat
was covered with shiny snail-tracks.  Her blond hair, usually flyaway fine,
was gelled with sperm and hanks stuck up at odd angles.

   Lilah tried to speak but choked.  She bent her head and opened her
mouth. More cum drooled over her lips as she hawked.  Then she looked up
again, her cum-coated cheeks and chin shiny in the overhead light.  Her
voice was still husky from the repeated assaults on her throat.  "Thank
you, Daddy." she said.

   Rubin looked down at her.  "Are you a whore?" he asked his
seven-year-old daughter.

   Lilah nodded.  "Yeth, Daddy," she lisped.  "I'm your whore."

   "Did you like your breakfast?"

   "Yeth, Daddy.  Whores like cum for breakfast."

   "Good girl," Rubin said, the first praise I had heard him give her in
weeks.  He looked at Moira, kneeling behind Lilah.  "Get her to school," he
said.  He turned and walked up the stairs.  I heard the door to his bedroom
close.

   Moira looked over at me for the first time.  "He'll drink now.  You can
come upstairs while we get ready."

   "Wait a minute," I said.  I was equally horrified and aroused by what I
had seen, but horror would go away on its own.  "I was part of that,
whaddyacallit, minyan thing, but I didn't get mine." I emphasized the point
by grabbing my erection through the thin fabric of my scrubs and wiggling
it at the child.

   "She's already late," Moira said.  "But you could drive her to school."
And with that she stood and took Lilah's hand and led her up the stairs.  I
followed, somewhat painfully.  In the bathroom, Moira stripped Lilah's
nightgown up and off her.  Lilah was naked underneath, not even panties. 
Moira found a place on the disgusting garment that was still marginally
clean and used it to scrub the worst of the drying sperm off Lilah's face
and neck.  Moira started the shower and adjusted the temperature, and Lilah
climbed shakily into the tub.  She sat hunched over under the spray, with
her sticklike arms wrapped around her knees, looking dully at nothing.

   Working with extraordinary gentleness, Moira tilted Lilah's head back so
the warm spray fell on her face.  She lathered up her hands with body wash
and went to work cleaning the residue of the child's morning of sexual
abuse.  "How often does this happen?" I asked.

   Moira looked at me, her eyes unreadable.  "It used to be just once in a
while, but now it's two, three times every week."

   "Same guys all the time?"

   "Mostly.  He gets checks from the synagogue, made out for 'facility
rental'."

   "So she's a facility now," I snorted.

   Moira nodded.  "Daddy used to just get cash, or sometimes booze or a
carton of cigarettes," she said softly.  Then, turning to Lilah and
adopting the bright tones you used with little children, she continued,
"Time for shampoo, kiddo.  Close your eyes!" She squirted a generous glob
of what could well have been more cum from a bottle onto Lilah's head and
began working the lather through her hair, taking care to get all the
sticky little pills of semen clinging to the fine strands.

   Moira had Lilah stand to rinse out her hair.  Suds coursed down her
undeveloped body.  Moira went to work on washing the rest of her.  She
turned Lilah to wash her back.  Without being prompted Lilah planted her
feet wide on the nonskid surface and rested her head against the wall. 
Moira passed a washcloth between her cheeks, then massaged the child's anal
rosette with one finger.  Lilah grunted as she was penetrated.  Moira
plunged her finger in and out just a few times.  Then she reached between
Lilah's legs and caressed her bald snatch.  Lilah's knees began to tremble.
Moira wet two fingers of her other hand with spit and then switched off. 
The child whined as Moira slowly penetrated her vaginally, forcing her tiny
hole open.  "Gotta keep you ready for your Daddy," she said softly.  Lilah
continued her wordless complaint as Moira pumped in and out, in and out,
then "Uh!" the little girl exclaimed as Moira pulled free.

   Moira helped Lilah step over the rim of the tub.  She was still wobbly
on her feet but at least she was clean.  Moira toweled her hair vigorously
and paused to put a comb in Lilah's hand before moving down to dry her body
more gently.  Lilah stared at herself in the mirror.  Her eyes were dull
and sad-looking in the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom with deep
smudges underneath.  Slowly, as if sleepwalking, she combed her hair into
some semblance of order.

   "There!" Moira said.  "Nice and clean!  Now, do you have gym today?"
Lilah looked up at her in the mirror.  Slowly she shook her head.  "Okay,
I'll get your clothes.  You brush your teeth." And she bustled out of the
room, leaving me alone with a naked second-grader that I'd just watched
orally service nine men.  Well, seven men and two boys.  But I was a
perfect gentleman, insofar as I didn't throw her down on her elbows and
knees on the big, fuzzy bathroom rug and take turns stuffing her holes.  I
did pull down the front of my scrubs and take willy out for some air. 
Lilah watched me jack it without visible reaction as she brushed her teeth,
spat, brushed them again, spat again, brushed her tongue, then used
mouthwash three times, and then Moira came back with her clothes. 
Clothing, I should say, because it was only one item - a sleeveless
shirtdress in a muted scarlet with a sewn-in belt at the waist.  It looked
like it had been tailored to fit Lilah's slender form.  Once Moira smoothed
it down it clung to Lilah's upper body like a second skin, outlining her
flat chest, her slightly rounded belly, her shoulderblades, the slight
incurve of her spine perfectly.  The skirt fell straight to just above her
knobby knees from the belt at her narrow waist.  "Now remember," Moira
said, "No upside-down on the playground.  No free peeking!"

   And with that admonition we trooped downstairs.  Lilah slipped into a
pair of red sandals that were lined up by the door.  The straps around her
ankles and arches emphasized the delicacy of the little girl's feet.  Moira
held a gaily-patterned backpack but before handing it to her stopped and
looked down quizzically.  Lilah looked back up at her.  Her skin was so
pale the dark circles under her wide-set blue eyes looked like bruises,
emphasizing the sad, empty expression on her face.  "Do you need your
minute?" Moira asked.  Lilah nodded.  "Okay." Moira put down the backpack
and sat on the bottom stair, holding out her arms.  To my surprise, Lilah
threw herself into Moira's embrace and began sobbing wildly.  Moira hugged
her tight, rocking slightly and murmuring in her ear.  When Lilah ran out
of breath momentarily I could hear Moira's soft, melodious voice.  "Good
whore.  What a good little whore."

   But while she was hugging the little girl with one arm, Moira was also
looking at her watch on the other wrist.  She was counting seconds.  After
55 of them had passed, Moira counted down into Lilah's ear.  "Five, four,
three, two, one..." And just like that, Lilah went quiet.  She stood up and
visibly mastered herself.  It was an astonishing performance from a
seven-year-old child.  She went from full-out sobbing to utterly still and
quiet, instantly.  She wiped her tears from her face and stood, hands at
her sides, face neutral.  Only a little puffiness showed that seconds ago
the little girl had been bawling like her heart was broken.

   But if that was amazing enough, what happened next shocked me even more.
"Ready?" Moira said brightly, all smiles again.  "Okay, time for outside
Lilah...go!" Lilah broke into a smile herself.  Not only did she smile but
her entire affect changed.  Her thin body was suddenly full of energy.  Her
eyes sparkled, her cheeks were rosy, her shoulders went back, her feet
danced with nervous energy.  In an instant she went from traumatized rape
victim to happy, normal little girl, thrilled to be about to spend another
day learning in second grade.

   "Wow," I said to Moira over the little girl's head.  "Where'd you learn
that?"

   "Daddy taught me," Moira said.

   "No wonder you were always such a perky little kid," I said, but Moira
shook her head.

   "No, the school sent home a letter saying maybe Lilah should get grief
counseling.  And I knew it wasn't because of her mother.  So I sat her down
and Daddy told me what to say to her." Moira's green eyes clouded over and
her voice took on a singsong cadence.  "Inside Lilah's a dirty little
whore. Inside Lilah stays behind the door."

   To my astonishment, Lilah herself joined in.  "Outside Lilah's happy as
can be.  Outside Lilah sings along with me.  Yay!" And Lilah clapped her
hands and jumped up and down.

   This was getting too weird.  I mean, really too weird.  "Lilah," I said,
"Would you like me to drive you to school in my truck today?"

   "Yay!" Lilah repeated, jumping up and down and clapping her hands again.

   "Okay, then please wait outside on the porch for just a minute and I'll
be right there."

   Impulsively the little girl threw her arms around my waist and hugged
me. Then she picked up her backpack and did as she was bid.  I waited for
the door to close behind her, then turned to Moira.  How to have this
conversation?  Might as well just throw it on the table.  "Moira, you know
your father's dead, right?"

   "Of course I do, " she answered scornfully.  "I hope I do." Her voice
got quiet and she looked away from me.  "I'm the one that kilt him." Her
South Alabama accent came out when she talked about her childhood.

   "Then...what's all this crap about him talking to you?"

   "It's not crap!" she said heatedly.  "It's not," she repeated more
softly.  "Daddy loves me.  He loves me so much, so much that..." Her voice
broke and I saw to my astonishment that she was crying.  "He loves me so
much that even though I kilt him he still helps me.  I just had to tell him
I was sorry, and since then we talk all the time." She was referring to our
last night in the sex offenders' camp near the state forest, the night she
had confessed to procuring her father's murder at age thirteen, once Renee
had tricked her into ingesting enough hallucinogens to make a whole herd of
elephants see Flatland.  I guess that could explain it.  Flashbacks?  Or
maybe the drugs and the little psychodrama Renee and I had put her through
had broken something in her mind, for good.

   "Ah know what yer thinkin'," Moira's voice brought me back to the
present and I looked up to see her wiping her eyes, wearing that crooked,
sarcastic smile I knew so well.  For a moment I almost expected her next
word to be, "Psych!" followed by raucous laughter.  "Yer thinkin' I'm
crazy," she continued, her accent thick like sun-warmed clover honey. 
"Well, what if I am?  Yer fuckin' yer one niece silly, and you done broke
the other one so bad she needs dick like a junkie.  And Karen turned out
Lilah.  And now Rubin's lost it, and if I weren't here he'd fuck that
little girl right to death, and then it all comes crashin' down.  On you."
I shrugged.  Moira was right, even if she finished by saying with a smirk,
"Daddy said you'd see it that way.  Now go on, git that little girl to
school.  And," she glanced down at the tent in my scrubs, "get you
something too."

   Lilah held my hand and skipped merrily along as we walked around the
block to where my truck was parked.  She was chattering about her new art
teacher and how pretty and nice she was and how she would make me a
painting to thank me for driving her today.  We got to the truck and I
boosted her up into the seat with a hand on her asscheeks, my middle finger
pressing the thin fabric of her dress into her crack.  She gave me a
puzzled look but kept up her chatter.

   I turned off on the way to the school into the lot of a dead little
strip center.  The truck bumped across the potholed, litter-strewn
pavement. I steered around to the back of the strip and reversed the truck,
backing us up to the end of the loading area.  There was a 9-foot fence to
one side, the row of empty stores to the other, and a blank brick wall
behind.  I could see anyone coming but the loading ramp was too wide for
them to block me in.  I put the truck in Park.  Lilah looked up at me.  She
looked tiny on the wide bench seat.  "Why are we stopping?  I'll be late
for school."

   "You know why," I said.  I reached over and popped the buckle of her
seatbelt.  I put my hand on her scabbed knee and then pushed up under the
hem of her dress, feeling the warm, pliant skin of her thigh.

   "Hey!" Lilah said.  "That's bad touching!" she squirmed away from me,
pressing herself against the door.  "You're not supposed to do that!" Her
blue eyes looked shocked behind the magnifying lenses of her glasses.

   "Lilah," I said flatly.  "The windows are tinted.  No one can see in. 
And we're hiding.  Inside the truck is inside Lilah."

   As soon as I spoke the child's whole demeanor changed.  The outrage
fled, leaving her triangular face blank and sad-looking.  Her mouth dropped
open slightly.  Her eyelids drooped, and she turned to look up at me
through her thick lashes.  "I'll be late," she repeated.

   "Better be quick, then.  There's lube in the glove box.  Grease up that
babycunt for me."

   "But that's only for Daddy," she protested.

   "Your Daddy's not here, and you owe me," I responded.  With a sigh,
Lilah obeyed.  She hiked her dress up to her waist, leaving her bare ass on
the seat.  She retrieved a tube of K-Y and squirted a glob into her palm.
She winced at the cold gel as she rubbed it onto her vulva until the bald,
puffy pink lips shone.  Then I half-dragged her over so that she straddled
me, her skinny thighs stretched wide and one knobby knee planted to either
side.  I hiked her dress up to her armpits and started pinching her
nipples. They were completely flat, just little pale pink pips.  "Take my
cock out, little whore," I ordered her.  My voice was hoarse.  She obeyed,
tugging at the drawstring of my scrubs.  I lifted my butt just enough so
she could pull down the waistband.  I wasn't wearing underwear and my tool
popped free.  The air was cool.  Lilah's fingers were warm as she grasped
the shaft and aimed it at her tiny treasure.  And her slit was hot and
slippery wet.

   Lilah was only seven, but she had learned well.  As I continued to
savage her baby nips she swiped my cockhead up and down her slit, gathering
a generous amount of lube before positioning it right at her opening. 
"Ehhhh," she grunted sweetly as she slowly sat.  I felt my glans split open
her snug labia and then begin to press into the amazing tightness and heat.

   Lilah winced.  "What's the matter, whore?" I teased her.  "I know you
like to fuck."

   Lilah tensed her thighs briefly, then resumed downward pressure. 
"I...ehhh...I get whory after school.  In the morning...ehhh...it doesn't
feel so good."

   That made sense.  It wasn't until after she had done all her homework
that Moira would feed her the cannibis-laced candy or baked goods that kept
her high and compliant.  "I know Karen taught you, sometimes you have to do
it even if you don't feel like it, to make your customer happy.  You want
to be a good whore, don't you?"

   "Uh-huOOH!" I had reached her cervix and it forced the breath out of the
seven-year-old.  I was in her as far as I could go.  I put a hand in the
small of her back and pulled her too me, then started thrusting.  "Oh, oh,
oh," she grunted at each thrust.  I mashed our lips together.  I shoved my
tongue into her much smaller mouth, licking at her.  She tried to tangle
her tongue with mine.  I pulled back and looked down to admire the way my
cock had her split so wide open.  Her vulva was stretched and reddened from
the tension and her undeveloped inner lips clung each time I withdrew. 
Corded tendons stretched her inner thighs, bracketing the bulge of her
prominent mound.  She was so small compared with me.  Her weight was
nothing in my lap.  I wormed a hand between us and started mauling the bead
of her clitoris.  Her grunts ran together and became a keening that rose
and fell.  "Tell me...tell me...when you're...gonna squirt!" she managed to
gasp out.  "It'll make...my dress...icky!"

   Lilah's legs and arms bounced and flopped as I pounded up into the
second-grader as hard as I could.  Her cunt was a silk vise.  Not even half
my length fit into her.  Every thrust I pressed into her cervix, forcing
another high-pitched grunt from her lungs into my mouth.  I chewed on her
lips - not too hard, didn't want to leave a mark that would show when she
walked into her elementary school in a few minutes - and slobbered my spit
all over her triangular face.

   Lilah managed to get her arms around my neck and stabilized herself,
using the leverage to squeeze and release her cunt muscles.  Now that she
had moved beyond letting her mouth and ass be used and had started fucking,
Karen must be teaching her how to use her Kegels.  I felt my pleasure
rising as I pounded into the little girl.  Almost...almost...almost...now!
I jerked my hands upwards into her armpits, lifting her up.  Her pussy's
grip resisted until we separated with a heavy pop.  I tossed her onto her
belly on the seat next to me.  Her dress went up over her head.  She clawed
it off her face then spun around, her naked body stretched out on the bench
seat, sandaled toes up against the side window.  I grabbed the back of her
neck and dragged her back over my lap, pressing her face into my crotch. 
Her teeth scraped across the crown of my pulsing cock and then she spread
her jaws wide and sucked me in.  I pressed hard on the back of her neck,
felt my cock slide through her mouth, hit the entrance to her throat. 
Lilah swallowed and the incredible sensation of her gullet rippling around
my penis sent me over.  "Yes!" I cried, my vision going gray, as I fired a
volley of sperm straight down into Lilah's belly.  One of her hands found
my nutsack, squeezed gently to urge my ejaculation.  "Take it!  Take it,
you little whore!" I said, as ejaculate filled her mouth for the ninth time
that morning.

   A full-body shudder coursed through me as my orgasm peaked and slowly
ebbed.  When the last spasm passed, Lilah pulled off slowly, lips clamped
tight in a grimace.  She got her legs under her and sat up to a kneeling
position.  She swallowed hard once, twice.  There was a drip of my semen
running from one nostril of her cute pug nose.  She snorted it back up,
swallowed again.  I found an old fast-food napkin on the floor behind me
and handed it to her.  She first peered down at her gaping little quim and
scrubbed at it, wiping up the mess of lube and sex juices spread over her
labia.  Then she used it to wipe her face clean.  She sat up so she could
see herself in the rear-view and started finger-combing her chin-length bob
back into order.

   Meanwhile, I dug out my wallet and pulled out a five-dollar bill.  I
handed it to Lilah.  "That was an excellent fuck, Lilah.  You're turning
into a really good whore."

   "Thank you," the seven-year-old said politely.  She smiled at the praise
but her eyes were still clouded and desperately sad.  She leaned over to
retrieve her backpack from the floor, putting her bare ass and her pink,
weeping little clam right in my face.

   "Pull your dress down and belt in," I instructed her as I started to
slip the truck back into gear.

   "Wait!" she cried.  I looked over at her.  "I have to be outside Lilah
again, otherwise I'll still be a whore at school.  I can't be a whore at
school.  Whores don't go to school, they stay home and fuck."

   "Okay, you're outside Lilah," I said, bemused.

   Her eyes lit up and a bright smile burst upon her face.  "Yay!  It's
time for school!  Let's go!"
   To be continued...