Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. This is an erotic story featuring adults and children. If you don't want to read such a thing, don't. If it's illegal for you to read it whoever and wherever you are, I don't really care. Don't read it, or don't get caught. Either way, that's your problem. This is my story. It is made available under a Creative Commons Attribution - Noncommercial - No Derivative Works 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, and you adhere to the terms set forth at http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/. This story is F-I-C-T-I-O-N. No actual children or adults or anything were involved in its production. What part of "made up" don't you understand? Intelligent feedback gratefully accepted at rufusfugit at yahoo dot com. Stupid feedback and flames to /dev/null. This and other stories available at /files/Authors/rufusfugit. Jenny's Couch, part 20 (Mg, Fg, ped, mast, oral, prost, humil, forced-exhib, autovoyeurism, dissociative mental states) by Rufus Fugit I pulled Moira's car into a space at the far end of the busy parking lot. It was a behemoth, a late-60s vintage Chevrolet Impala in an advanced state of decrepitude. The padded dash was crumbling. The seats were cracked and spilling yellowed foam, crisscrossed with several generations of duct tape. The head liner had been torn out completely. The muffler was only a memory. The engine belched out one final cloud of blue smoke and choked into silence. All four windows were rolled down. Renee was on her knees next to me on the wide bench seat, arms braced against the dash. The car had no seatbelts and riding unrestrained was a novelty for the third-grader. I had my arm wrapped around her, hand pressed against her bare midriff. My fingers had crept under her tankini top, and I was gently massaging one chubby breastlet. In the back seat, Karen was breathing heavily. Her head rested against the seatback, eyes half-closed. Her back was arched, pointing her barely-developed chest at the sky. Her flip-flops lay on the dirty floor mat beneath her dangling bare feet. Her swimsuit was a damp wad between them. She was naked. It had taken Moira very little time to strip the blonde eleven-year-old once we got into the car. As soon as we had settled into our seats she'd had her fingers working inside the crotch of Karen's suit, eliciting soft gasps and moans from the aroused preteen. Before long she had Karen teetering on the edge of orgasm - and there she held her. I thought I knew Karen's body and its responses, but Moira was a woman and she knew from the inside exactly how to bring a little girl right up to the brink and pull her back, over and over. Before long, dazed but compliant, Karen allowed herself to be stripped, spreading her legs and arms to let the hot wind blowing through the open car windows bathe her sweating body. She'd felt a quick spurt of fear and a flush of embarrassment as her nipples first popped free from the wet spandex, but she told herself that fear was for little girls. A whore loves to be naked and so she defied the fear with a trembling smile and opened her legs wide on the seat. Her one concession to the little girl was to slump down so that her chin was level with the top of the door. From that vantage she looked over at the people in the passing cars. They saw only a little girl's smiling face, not a naked whore with a grown woman fingering her sopping wet babycunt. "Ohhh...ohhh...ohhh," she moaned now as she felt Moira's finger moving gently inside her. In the sudden quiet as the engine died we could all hear the squishing, sliding sound it made. Karen's thighs were shiny with her juices. She had leaked a sticky puddle onto the cracked duct tape beneath her skinny bare ass. The tuft of fine blonde pubic fuzz adorning the top of her mons was matted with cream. Her clitoris was obscenely swollen, standing up and begging for more attention now that the car had stopped and hot air no longer moved across it. Sweat beaded her torso, running down between her puffy, dark-flushed nipples. The harsh sunlight highlighted the fine hairs on her upper lip and her jawline and painted red starbursts on the inside of her closed eyelids. "Nuh...oooo!" she exclaimed as she felt Moira's finger leave her channel one last time, curling as it withdrew. Then she felt something nudge against her lips and without opening her eyes, she parted them and sucked it in. Her own tangy flavor flooded her mouth as without thinking she slid her tongue over and around Moira's slimy digit as if it were a penis. There was a time when the little girl was revolted by her own smell and taste, but the whore didn't care. The whore didn't care about anything but the burning need between her thighs, the throbbing of her pulse in her engorged pleasure button. Moira's finger slid out of Karen's mouth, and her hand trailed casually down the fifth-grader's sweaty torso. Karen jumped and gulped as Moira tweaked each stiff, dark-pink nipple. Then she shivered as Moira gently nibbled at her earlobe and whispered, "Open your eyes, you cute little whore. We're here." I had turned around in my seat to watch Moira molest my eleven-year-old niece. Renee turned around too and knelt on the seat with her arms crossed over the seatback. I made a soft noise in my throat and pressed myself awkwardly against Renee's kneeling form. My cock was stiff and hot inside my board shorts and the sight of her older sister nude in the back seat further inflamed me. Karen's labia were puffy and shone wetly. Her slit was open wide and still oozing creamy goo onto the seat. She tilted her head forward and opened glassy eyes. She looked around vaguely and one hand reached out slowly, groping for the door handle. "Hang on, kitten, aren't you forgettin' something?" Moira grabbed Karen's hand and held it. Karen's gaze roamed over her younger sister's expressionless gaze and my smirk, then down at herself. Her blue eyes slowly swam into focus and I saw the bright blush paint her face and spread down her chest as she realized she had been about to step out of the car completely heedless of her nudity. Her face twisted as the familiar mixture of shame, stabs of pleasure and a trembly, fluttery feeling in her stomach washed over her in hot waves. Her cheeks flamed as memories flashed through her mind of herself naked outside: kneeling in the schoolyard with her lips just touching my penis for the first time, then on her back on a cold stone bench with a cock spurting hot cum in her mouth and another splitting her tender pussy. "Oooh," she moaned involuntarily, writhing slightly in the puddle of her juice slicking the ruined vinyl upholstery. Moira winked at me then spoke to Renee, eyes dancing. "We gotta get your big sister fucked quick or she's gonna explode." Karen scooted forward, grimacing as her butt slid in her syrupy cunt cream, and worked her flip-flops back onto her feet. But then she looked in dismay at the wet tangle of her swimsuit on the dirty floor mat. "Here, put this on," Moira said as she shrugged out of her white shirt and held it out. "That'll cover you up well enough for us to buy some whorin' clothes for you." The parking lot was paved in fresh black asphalt and it was viciously hot under the early afternoon sun. The air shimmered above the blacktop. Karen and Renee walked hand-in-hand ahead of Moira and me. Karen's knees were a little wobbly, and I could see her ears and the back of her neck were still pink with embarrassment. The tails of the man-sized shirt fell to mid-thigh front and back but the sides exposed her rather high on her hips. Between that and the way her titties poked out the soft fabric a person might speculate what the child was wearing underneath it - but it was tightly-woven enough that a person could only speculate. Of course if a person looked really closely a person could see shiny runnels of wetness on the insides of her thighs. Watching the children's cute behinds I recalled the last time Karen had been pantiless in a hot parking lot and reflected on how far she had come. That was the day I had called her a whore for the first time and she had reacted with anger and tears. She hadn't even had a cock in her mouth at that point, let alone in her tight, virgin snatch. Now here she was just months later, barely halfway through the fifth grade, eagerly looking forward to prostituting herself on on a public beach. When we reached the road I took Renee's hand and Moira took Karen's to cross. Once we got up on the boardwalk it was much cooler, with a brisk salt breeze coming off the water. We stood for a moment just looking out over the ocean while Moira fished her cigarettes out of her purse and lit one. The beach was crowded, mostly with young people along this section. There were several volleyball games going on, rows and rows of highschoolers and college kids basting themselves on chairs and blankets, and a busy weight pad a ways down to our right. "Y'all can go get some ice cream," Moira said, pointing at a shop a few dozen yards up the boardwalk, "while we get Karen a nice fuck-me outfit." Without waiting for discussion she took the blonde's hand and pulled her off in the other direction, towards a garishly-decorated storefront with hip-hop blaring from the open doors. Karen looked back anxiously at me and her little sister but Moira jerked at her arm and hurried her along. Her long single braid swung back and forth as she half-trotted to keep up. I put down a sinfully elaborate banana-split concoction on a table at the edge of the boardwalk and Renee and I sat down to share it. Renee ate sweets with her whole body. She wiggled, she bounced in her chair, she kicked her sandal-shod feet and in the process got plenty of the confection on her face, her swimsuit, and her cute, tan bare belly. I was still somewhat distracted with the memory of her big sister, naked and dazed and spread open in the back seat. With that as a catalyst, just the sight of Renee's little pink toes peeking out of her Finding Nemo sandals had me half-hard, for Chrissake. My nipples crinkled as the breeze fluttered my linen shirt against my chest. Renee's voice snapped me out of my erotic reverie. "What's wrong with Moira?" Her hazel eyes were brilliant in the sun as she looked up at me expectantly. She wiped her face on her arm, smearing chocolate across both. "What do you mean?" I temporized, gathering my thoughts. "She hit Karen! But she was all nice, and then she was mean, and then she was nice again, but even when she's nice she's scary, I mean..." Her voice trailed off. Most adults never looked past Moira's cheerful party-girl veneer (and those impressively perky tits), but children tended to have better bullshit detectors. Even if she was too young and inexperienced to fully articulate what bothered her, Renee was too perceptive to be fooled. It was one of the qualities I most respected and loved in the nine-year-old. "Hmm. Well, when she told us how she started sexing with her daddy when she was seven? Did you notice, she told us all about what happened, but she didn't tell us how she felt about what happened?" Renee frowned in thought, digging her spoon around in the dish as she tried to parse my question. "I think seven is maybe too little to be a whore, at least too little to know for sure if you are one. I think maybe she didn't really want to be a whore, but she loved her daddy and she wanted to make him happy so she did stuff with him anyway. Think about how you'd feel if Daddy asked you to do something that felt bad, but he asked you please, please, pretty-please. You might do it to make him happy or just 'cause he told you to, but you'd be mad at him after. But it's hard to be mad at your daddy because you love him and besides you need him to take care of you and stuff. So - this is kinda confusing, I know - she got mad at herself for being mad at him. And now she's maybe a little bit mad at herself all the time." I was leaning on my elbows now, head down almost nose-to-nose with my child lover. Renee's mouth was twisted in concentration. Her eyes were wide. In this light they looked almost green. The intensity of her gaze was startling in a child. "So maybe," she said slowly, "Karen reminds her of her 'cause she's a little-girl whore too, and she can be mad at Karen because it's easier than being mad at herself?" "Wow." I sat up. "That's exactly what I think. You are a very, very smart little girl. That's one of the reasons I love you so much." I was rewarded with a rare smile, and I continued, "But Moira's a good person. And whatever happened when she was little, she's definitely a whore now and Karen needs her help. Karen has to learn how to find boys to fuck on her own or she'll be unhappy all the time, and Moira's going to show her. I try to keep her from getting mad, but I don't always get it right." Renee broke my gaze and looked down, stirring her spoon aimlessly through the melting ice cream. "Maybe Moira's daddy was mean to her. Maybe she didn't want to fuck at all when she was nine, but he made her." She looked back up at me, then away shyly. "I don't think I want to fuck yet," she continued softly. "Karen's bigger, and she still said it hurt a lot when you put your thingy in her the first time." I scooted my chair over so I could put my arm around the girl's tan, warm shoulder. I pulled her into a hug, caressing her cheek with my other hand, then bent and planted a gentle kiss on the two tiny moles at her delicate jawline. I tasted skin and suntan lotion and chocolate ice cream. Out of the corner of my eye I saw an elderly woman smile as she passed by this show of what appeared to be fatherly affection. I whispered into Renee's ear, "I love you even if we never fuck. I'll never make you do anything you don't want to. Karen has to learn stuff, so sometimes I make her. But," I kissed her cheek again, "you're my lover, not my whore. Okay?" Her brown hair tickled my nose as she nodded, and I straightened up. "Hey, look, here they come!" I followed where Renee pointed and saw Karen and Moira walking towards us. Karen was barefoot now; I presumed her flip-flops were in the shopping bag Moira held. She was carrying her white shirt over her arm. She pulled Karen along by one hand and the preteen was again half-trotting to keep up with her brisk stride. Karen was wearing a bikini, fairly close in color to the sky-blue of the one-piece suit she had left the house in. It was skimpy, though not outrageously so for a child of her age. Moira had also undone Karen's braid and her waist-length hair fell in thick golden waves over her shoulders and flowed down her bare back. When they reached us Moira drew up an empty chair from another table and plopped down into it, lighting a cigarette as Karen stood before us awkwardly, with the toes of one foot resting on the other. Her hands wandered in the air, like she wanted to cover herself but had been warned not to. She was breathing a little heavily and I could see two small pink smudges on her cheeks. She'd been outside wearing less before, but never in full daylight and full public view. So was she embarrassed or aroused? Unless I missed my guess the answer was "both". Up close I could see that the swatches of fabric covering her pubescent titties and her mound were not a solid color. The bikini was definitely made for sunning, not swimming. It was crocheted from white, pale blue, and dark blue yarn. The weave was fairly tight but you could still see her skin tone plainly beneath it. If you looked really close you could see the darker shade of her areolae where the two triangles on her chest poked out. And down below... "No way!" I exclaimed. Moira lost a lungful of cigarette smoke in a snort of laughter. "Yes, way!" Where the bikini bottom curved under between Karen's skinny thighs, one of the spaces in the crochet work had been enlarged to maybe the diameter of my little fingernail, and poking out of it was a tiny red nub. Glancing around to make sure we were unobserved for the moment, I brought my thumb and finger together quickly to pinch it. It was hot and slippery. Karen made a stifled noise that sounded like "eep!" and stepped backwards, blushing furiously. "Yes, way!" Moira repeated. "Karen, tell your uncle what you have there." Now there was no question that Karen's flush was from humiliation. She hung her head and half-whispered what Moira had obviously rehearsed her to say. "That's my clitty. It's sticking out 'cause I'm a whore, and I...I need...cock!" I could barely hear the last word. Karen flinched when I responded in full voice, "There's no doubt you'll get plenty, sweetie." Turning to Moira, I said, "What's your plan?" "Well, how 'bout this? You take your cute little buttfuck there to the carnival and ride some rides or something, and me 'n' Karen'll walk down the beach past all those hot hunky guys. I'll call you in an hour, hour and a half or so after Karen's made herself some money." "Sounds good," I said. I tossed the remains of our banana split in the trash then took Renee's hand and we headed off down the boardwalk. * * * Karen watched us go with a sinking feeling. Moira was beautiful, and she was being nice to her now but Karen's cheek still stung with the memory of the slap that had come out of nowhere and the torrent of verbal abuse that followed it. When Moira had started roughly pinching and rubbing her clitoris in the store's fitting room she had been almost too scared to move. Moira hadn't explained what she was doing as she worked the slippery, hot little button of flesh through the hole she'd enlarged in the new swimsuit. Now the rough fabric rubbed and pulled at her with every step. She had to stop twice during the short walk down to the sand as her vision blurred and her knees threatened to give way from the intolerably pleasurable friction. But Moira had also asked her - "asked" with a scary hard look in her eyes - not to have an orgasm yet, and she dared not. Karen was red-faced and panting when Moira finally plopped down onto the warm white sand. Karen sat next to her. She spread her legs wide, pressing the soles of her feet together and leaning back on her elbows, unconsciously seeking the warmth of the sun on her twitching, burning clit. So focused was she on the unwanted pleasure radiating from between her legs that she missed Moira's first few words. "...you can tell the ones who are really interested, because they won't look away. Their eyes'll follow you. Now, it's harder when you're a little kid 'cause it ain't legal and the guys who're interested in underage pussy will be tryin' not to get caught. But once you've practiced a bit you can usually pick 'em out 'cause they're tryin' so hard to look like they ain't lookin', if you get what I mean. "So here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna take a little walk down past where those guys are lifting weights and hangin' out, and you're gonna watch for the ones that look at you all hungry-like. I guarantee there's gonna be at least a couple. I'm gonna be watchin' too and when we get all the way down to those picnic tables we'll sit down and compare notes. Here, put these on." Moira dug in her purse and came out with a pair of mirrored sunglasses. "Watch out of the corner of your eyes. Don't let 'em see you lookin' back at 'em, not yet anyway. You understand?" Karen nodded dumbly. It was hard to focus on Moira, she was concentrating so hard on controlling the shivers emanating from between her legs - but the more she fought it the harder it was to ignore. She could feel her babycunt leaking, feel the fabric getting damp and clinging to her irritated inner lips. She got to her feet, almost staggering and suppressing a groan as the fabric pinched and tugged at her captive clitty. She fumbled the sunglasses onto her face. Moira put a hand in the small of her back and gave her a gentle shove. "Go on now. I'll stay a few steps behind so we can tell who's lookin' at you and not me. Hey! Walk like this, with one foot right in front of the other," she said, demonstrating a runway model walk. "It'll make your butt sway all sexy." It was the longest walk Karen had ever taken. Within ten steps her clitoris felt like it was on fire, but the prickling heat rapidly spread to every inch of her skin. It was like wading through hot honey. Her limbs were heavy. Her nipples tingled and rubbed almost painfully against the small triangles of fabric covering them. She felt every wisp of breeze, every rolling drip of sweat, nearly every photon of sunlight on her skin. She wanted to sink to her knees, tear off her bikini bottoms, jam two fingers into her babycunt and saw them in and out until she climaxed screaming. She hardly cared at this point if the entire beach saw her; it was only force of will that kept her moving - that, and fear of what Moira would do. There were so many men. Tall men, short men - though even the short ones were mostly taller than the slender fifth-grader - skinny men, fat men, blond hair, brown hair, white skin, black skin, yellow skin, brown skin. She watched their faces covertly as she strolled slowly past, but the thought came unbidden, "I wonder what their penises look like?" She remembered the first penis she had ever seen, her uncle's, spitting sticky goo all over her little sister's face. She'd been horrified, then. "Now I'm whore-ified," she thought, and a soft laugh tinged with bitterness rose to her lips. Somehow she made it to the cluster of picnic tables. She collapsed onto the wooden bench, grimacing. Her bikini bottoms were saturated with her juices and she swore that if she breathed deeply she could smell herself. She looked down. Cunt cream had dried in long, shiny streaks on the insides of her thighs, reaching almost to her knees. Her clitoris was hidden by the curve of her mons when she stood, but as she squeezed her legs together it was plainly visible as a bright red dot at the apex of her slit which was itself clearly outlined by the wet fabric. It looked almost sunburned. "Well?" Moira asked, sitting down across from her. "Didja see them?" "I saw one?" Karen answered uncertainly. "The guy with all the muscles, lifting weights like this?" She mimed a squat, raising her arms to shoulder-level as if holding a bar balanced behind her neck. "That's good, he was one of them, but you don't ever wanna go with a bodybuilder nut like that. You know why?" Karen shook her head. "They don't get all bulgy like that without they're taking steroids. You know what those are?" Another shake. "They're drugs that make their muscles swell. But they also make their dicks shrink up and stop getting hard, and makes 'em get mad real easy. So you get naked with the guy, he's got a tiny dick and it won't work, he freaks out and blames you and he's strong enough to pinch your head off with two fingers. Believe me, it's a bad scene." Moira's eyes clouded as she spoke even though her tone was light. Karen felt a reluctant surge of sympathy for the woman, sympathy and gratitude. As she was learning, it wasn't easy to be a whore. "You did good, but I saw two others guys that're better choices." Moira pointed discreetly, turning her shoulder to shield her hand from her targets. "That Chinese kid in the lifeguard trunks, and that old guy sitting on the wall pretending to read the paper. So, which one do ya wanna do?" Karen caught her breath as she realized, really realized, what she was doing. She was going to ask a total stranger to fuck. No, to pay her to fuck. Fear thrilled along her arms and legs. "I..." she tried to speak, but nothing came out. "Oh, no, you ain't backin' out. Your uncle told me you might get cold feet, but I ain't gonna let you." Moira leaned forward until her eyes, dark and intense, filled Karen's vision. She wanted to look away but she couldn't. "I know how it is, it's scary, but you need this." Karen jumped as she felt Moira's hand sliding up her thigh under the table. There was a pause and then she nearly fainted as she felt one feather-light fingertip just brush back and forth across her exposed clitty. Her body went rigid and she jammed her toes deep into the sand. A series of sharp, high-pitched moaning gasps forced themselves out between her gritted teeth as Moira gently flicked her finger against Karen's straining button. A fresh surge of hot juice squished out of her, further drenching the fabric of her suit. "You need this," Moira repeated heavily. "Doncha?" And Moira pulled her hand back, and Karen knew she was right. She knew from the way her hips twitched involuntarily forward, trying to restore the contact. She knew from the hours spent desperately masturbating in her bedroom, from the climaxes that only left her wanting more, from the memories of hot cocks thrusting into her tight, bald slit, from the way her face got hot when she remembered the gooey, cloying feel of semen clogging her throat. She needed it, and she had to do it alone. No one could help her, not her uncle, not Renee, not her mommy or daddy, not even Moira. And she could do it. She could because the whore was taking over, ruthlessly crushing down her fear, banishing all other thoughts from her head. Her soft, childish features tightened and she met Moira's intense gaze. "The lifeguard guy. I'm going to fuck him." Karen was trembling as she walked back towards the man she had picked, but from excitement rather than fear. The whore was in control now, and it was like all Karen had to do was go along for the ride. She was wearing Moira's shirt again over her bikini, but it was unbuttoned and knotted high on her hip. The man was pretending not to watch her as she approached. He turned his head like he was scanning the beach, but Karen could see the way his black eyes lingered on her. He was an average-sized man, well-muscled with a smooth, hairless chest. He was wearing the red trunks that served for a lifeguard's uniform on this beach, but he was clearly off-duty, lounging against the blank wall of a concrete block building just in the shadow of the boardwalk. He had a pleasant face with round cheeks and small, even teeth. As she drew near and looked up at him she could see he was older than she had thought at first. He had little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the kind grownups got when they smiled a lot. This was it. She walked up really close to the man and stopped. He smelled nice. Like suntan oil, and aftershave, and something that Karen just thought of as male. She looked up into his eyes, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "Hi," she said, her voice breaking. She cleared her throat. "My name's Karen." The man seemed to have trouble speaking, too. He coughed a little before saying, "Hi, Karen." He got a weird, frozen expression on his face, almost scared. Karen couldn't understand why a grownup would be scared of her. "My name's Jim." "Umm...do you think I'm pretty, Mister Jim?" Adding the honorific was automatic, from years of her parents emphasizing the importance of being respectful to adults. The man looked at her like he didn't understand the question. Maybe Moira was wrong. Maybe he wasn't interested. Maybe he'd laugh at her, yell at her, call the police and have her arrested for being a whore. Maybe...but no. Karen didn't know Jim yet, but she knew penises and she could see his was getting stiff inside his swim trunks. Karen opened her mouth with no idea what was going to come out of it and the whore said, "Do you wanna feel my boobies, Mister Jim?" Her feet took another step forward so their bodies were almost touching. She was looking right at one round, brown nipple on his chest. She tilted her head back to see Jim's eyes widen in shock. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her stomach was doing flip-flops. "I can tell you wanna." Her hand lightly covered the bulge that had formed in his trunks. She pressed gently, rubbing her palm in little circles and squeezing her fingertips around the top. Jim made a strangled noise in his throat. Karen had a strange half-smile on her face as if she was listening to someone Jim couldn't hear, but there was no denying the concrete presence of her hand on his penis. This pretty blonde child had just walked up to him out of nowhere and was now feeling his cock! "What're you...what're you doing?" he gasped out. "I'm touching your penis, Mister Jim," Karen answered matter-of-factly. "Will you please touch my boobies now? I really want you to. C'mon, do it!" Her high, childish voice took on a hard edge, almost commanding. Jim watched his hand come up like it belonged to someone else and gently rub against one of the points barely pushing out her white shirt. He felt the stiff, rubbery flesh through the fabric, gently at first, then squeezed as Karen moaned and leaned against him. He looked down at the child in wonder. She was a child - her straight figure, tiny nipples, and skinny hips left no doubt about it - but she was beautiful and she was rubbing his cock like a pro. Not just _like_ a pro, as her next words proved. "Do you want to fuck me, Mister Jim?" Karen spoke into his chest. "For twenty dollars you can fuck me as hard as you want." Karen felt him jump as if electrified. His fingers jerked her nipple, salting the pleasure with a little spike of pain that seemed to travel straight down through her fluttering belly to her leaking babycunt. "Please, Mister Jim, take me somewhere and fuck me. I know how, I'm good at it, I promise, I can suck your cock and everything..." Karen knew she shouldn't be begging, she should be demanding, but the feel of Jim's cock beneath her hand, his warm skin pressed against her, was almost too much. Her entire body was tingling with need and she realized that she was almost crying. If he turned her down, she'd die, die right here on the beach. "Oh, God," Jim groaned, and then, "Yes." The child's long blonde hair tickled his nose as he looked wildly around. No one was paying them any attention. He grabbed Karen's upper arm and led her around the back of the building. There was a single blank door. He fumbled a key out from the inside pocket of his suit, opened it, pushed Karen inside and closed and locked the door again behind them. Karen found herself in what appeared to be an old changing room converted to storage. The sun shone dimly through a dirty skylight and the air was thick with dust. There was a bank of lockers rusting against one wall. On the other she could see holes and capped pipes where toilets and sinks had been removed. There were some cardboard boxes stacked there now. A scarred wooden bench ran down the middle of the room and there were mirrors on the other two walls. It was hot and stuffy and smelled musty. Jim was just standing there, looking at her like he had no idea what to do next. In a flash, Karen remembered another room very much like this, the janitor's office in the church where her uncle had stuck his fingers up her for the first time, where he had taken her panties away from her. She remembered how helpless she had felt, scared and helpless and wanting it and not wanting it and not knowing what was going to happen until her uncle told her what to do. She looked at Jim standing uncertainly in front of the door. "He's me," she thought, realizing that it was up to her to take charge. It was up to the whore. She grabbed Jim's hands and pulled the much larger man to the center of the room, then pushed on his stomach. He took a step backwards against the bench, almost lost his balance and then sat down. Karen dropped to her knees in front of him. The dirty tile floor felt gritty and rough. She realized she'd made a mistake by not pulling down his swimsuit first (the whore noted that for next time). She tugged on the waistband and Jim raised his butt awkwardly until she was able to work it down his thighs. Karen froze for just a second as Jim's erect penis popped free of his trunks and bounced up just inches from her nose. "Ooo, it's a nice one," came out of her mouth automatically, but it was true. It was thick but not too long, smooth and kind of yellow like the rest of his skin. He wasn't hairy at all; there was a neat thatch of thick black curls just at the top where the shaft sprouted from his body, and some fine, dark fuzz on his scrotum. The head was a darker red, and it throbbed and jumped with his heartbeat. Karen's left hand reached out and her fingers gently cupped his wrinkled sack, feeling the hair and gently palpating the heavy balls within. Jim jumped at the contact. It was strange - she hadn't meant to do that at all. It was like she was just watching the whore do stuff now. Which was good, because the whore knew things the little girl couldn't possibly. If the little girl found herself alone in a locked room, kneeling on the floor in front of a naked grownup that wanted to put his penis inside her, she'd be screaming and crying and begging him not to. But the whore needed that penis inside her, needed it more than anything, and no way she was going to let some crybaby kid mess it up. Karen watched with the same odd sense of detachment as her right hand reached out and curled around Jim's thick shaft. It felt hot, hard and soft at the same time, and too large for her fingers and thumb to meet. She squeezed gently, and Jim groaned and clear liquid dribbled from the slit and ran down on her fingers. Karen looked up into his face and slowly, slowly, brought her face down to the erect tool. The smell of precum and sweat filled her nostrils as her lips parted. She almost laughed at the wide-eyed shock on Jim's face as she sucked the head of his penis into her mouth. Shock turned to pleasure as she twirled her tongue around the end and hummed gently. Precum coated her tongue and she felt the organ jump and twitch. She smiled to herself; she knew she had him. Karen hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard, making a loud slurping sound as the hot flesh popped free of her mouth. She just held it for a second, watching it wave and pulse in the air, then she stood up, stepped back, and stuck out her hand, knuckles shiny with precum. "Twenty dollars." Jim almost fell over grabbing at the swim trunks puddled around his strong feet. He fumbled at the inside pocket, came out with a small crumple of bills, found two tens and held them out with a shaking hand. Karen took them and stuffed them in her shirt pocket. "Thanks." She was looking over his head at the mirror behind him, watching herself - watching the whore - untie the knot at her hip and and let the white shirt fall open, baring her stomach, tan and firm with a cute innie navel. She pushed her bikini top up, uncovering her nipples. She played with them for a few seconds, smiling into Jim's burning eyes as she tugged on the swollen nubbins sprouting from her bony chest. Then she grabbed her bikini bottoms at both hips and pulled down. She stifled a yelp as her clitty stretched then snapped free of its binding. The saturated fabric clung to the skin of her soaking snatch, then pulled loose and landed on top of her thin feet. She stepped forward and left the blue fabric wadded on the dirty floor. She had to spread her legs really wide to fit them around Jim's hips. The bench was hard on her knees as she slid forward, trapping his cock between their bodies. His skin felt warm against hers. She could feel his heart beating and his breath against the hollow of her neck. She lifted herself slightly and wormed her hand down between them. She adjusted his cock, rubbing it up and down her slit until she felt the hot knob poke at her opening. Her skinny legs trembled with tension as she slowly sat. "AiiieeeEEEGH!" Karen groaned as the thick adult penis pushed into her, stretching her labia and filling her juvenile vagina. "Awww, GEEZ!" The hot, stiff flesh invading her touched off a firestorm of pleasure, filling not only her cunt but her entire body. It was relief not just from the long day's sexual frustration, not just the week since they got here or the months since Hallowe'en, no, it felt like an entire lifetime of need was dammed up inside her tight babycunt and Jim's cock broke the dam open. Karen's heart felt like it was going to burst right out of her chest. Jim's lips were moving but she could hear nothing but the blood roaring in her ears. She tucked her bare feet across his thighs. She put her arms around his neck and pulled herself up and sat down hard, her knees splaying wide. It felt like his cock was splitting her open, tearing her apart, but the pain was pleasure and the pleasure was pain and she never wanted it to end. She did it again, and then once more, and then she exploded. "Oh, oh, no, nooo, nuh, nuh, NO, OH, AH, AIE! AIEEE! AIEEE!" Her orgasm smashed into her like a boiling tidal wave. Her entire body stiffened and convulsed uncontrollably. Jim yelped as her cunt clamped down on his organ, rippling and writhing like a snake. Her vision was filled with brilliant starbursts. Pubescent girl-cum squirted out of her overstuffed cunny, pouring down Jim's shaft, coating his scrotum, and audibly spattering onto the dirty floor. Karen's spine arched and she started to fall backwards, but she felt Jim's strong arms catch her. His hands were warm on her back under her shirt and he squeezed, crushing her thin frame belly-to-belly against him. She dug her chin into his shoulder, wrapping her own arms around his muscular swimmer's back and held on for dear life as her body was wracked by orgasmic spasms that she feared - or hoped - would never stop. "GAH! GAH! GAH!" she squealed as each contraction forced the breath out of her, forced everything out of her but pure pleasure. Finally, the orgasm subsided from crushing blows to wild, random tremors. Karen's eyes opened to her reflection in the mirror. Her face was beet-red and tracked with tears. Her blonde hair was matted with sweat. Then she focused beyond that, to the reflection from the mirror behind her and she realized she was looking at herself from behind. She could see Jim's strong arms around her thin, tanned back. His biceps were bigger around than her thighs, she thought wonderingly. Jim's cock was still iron-hard inside her and hot, so hot. Groaning, she lifted herself up and sat back down, watching how the muscles shifted in her back and her shoulderblades rose and fell. She did it again. The cheeks of her ass tensed and relaxed, the soles of her feet and the round pads of her toes flexing and curling under her butt. Her anus winked at her. She saw how her inner lips clung to the penetrating organ as she lifted up, gripping it and pulling down from her body like they didn't want to let it go. "Fuck me, Mister Jim," she moaned as she ground her skinny eleven-year-old ass against his thighs. "Fuck me, fuck my babycunt, fuck your cock in me," she chanted as she rode the man faster and faster. "I'm a whore, I'm a whore, fuck my whore babycunt, fuck it hard!" She screamed as Jim stiffened suddenly and thrust himself up, squeezing the breath out of her with his arms, spreading her legs painfully wide and stabbing into her overstuffed cunny. She felt the squishy liquid heat of his ejacuation splashing against her immature cervix and that set her off again. "Oh, oh, oh, OH, OHHH, GEEEEEEZ!" She screamed and convulsed as another orgasm slammed into her. Her vision went white and this time it felt like her heart really did burst. There was a girl lying on the floor. She was half-naked. She had on a white shirt, unbuttoned, and a bikini top askew on her nearly-flat chest. One nipple was half-covered, the other completely exposed. Her legs were spread, bare feet turned outwards. Her cunny gaped wide open, the lips red and raw, the exposed tunnel a deeper red. There was a pale froth of sex juices spread all around the girl's vulva. Semen seeped out of her in a sluggish dribble, running down the girl's naked thighs and puddling on the dirty floor underneath her butt. Karen bent one knee and winced as her thigh muscles protested. The girl lying on the floor did the same thing, and that's when Karen realized the girl was her. She was looking at herself in the mirror. Startled, she sat up, wincing again and pushing a large glob of sperm out of her tender vagina. Jim was gone. Her bikini bottoms were nowhere to be seen. He must have taken them when he left. The room was bare and dusty. It reeked of sex. Aside from the sticky puddle she sat in, there was another under the bench, blobs of cum and clear streaks and spots of her own orgasmic secretions. She felt...she felt good. Relaxed, for the first time in she didn't know how long. She scooted to rest her back against the cool glass of the mirror. She put her palm over her ravaged babycunt and pressed lightly, feeling the heat and the stickiness, tracing the gaping opening and her tender clitoral hood nestled in the keyhole notch that bent just to one side. A slow smile spread over her face and her eyes drifted closed. A vagrant thought struck her of Jim burying his face in her soaked bikini panties and she giggled. She sat like that, gently masturbating for several minutes. Then with a soft groan she pushed herself to her feet. She adjusted her bikini top, hissing as the fabric abraded her sore, swollen nips. She took an unsteady step and opened the door, flinching and shielding her eyes against the sudden onslaught of sunlight. "Well, what have we here?" Moira was standing right outside the door. She exhaled a lungful of cigarette smoke and flicked the butt away. "Doncha think you ought to button up your shirt?" Karen glanced down at herself and blushed. The wrinkled, dirty white shirt neatly framed her cum-matted pubic tuft and her gaping, sperm-leaking vagina. * * * Renee laughed delightedly as she felt my cock pulse a second time in her hand and saw my semen shoot out past her and over the wall of the Ferris wheel's gondola basket. Just as she peeked over the rim to see if my second squirt had landed like the first in the hair of the teenaged girl in the basket below us, my cellphone rang.