Message-ID: <3473eli$9708291141@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: mccoyf@millcomm.com (Frank McCoy) Subject: REPOST: CERTIFID.TXT 46K "The 'Certified' Pedophile" (MFfffbf, cons, incest?, pedo, preg) Newsgroups: alt.sex.incest,alt.sex.stories.incest,alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <199708290540.AAA26211@midas.millcomm.com> The "Certified" Pedophile An Erotic Story "What's all the commotion over in the other block?" I asked Cindy, my next-door neighbor. Well, "next-door" is a euphemism, as is the term "block". With most of the "lots" in our area having over 5-acres, (The zoning people out here wanted to keep people from breaking up farms for housing, and all they did was increase the number of farms being broken-up; only into bigger pieces.) most of our neighbors are over a city-block away. The 5 to 6 acre parcels being stretched end-to-end make for some pretty strange distributions of city streets. For instance, my closest neighbor was really the person living in the new house on the dead-end street that was almost a mile-away by taking the surface-roads, but only a couple of hundred yards through my backyard, and across the tiny little creek that divided the two properties. For the last year or so, the developers had been having trouble filling up their lots, only managing to sell this one house in the cul-de-sac that made up the next street over, where all the commotion was going on. Cindy and I weren't all that close in either distance, friendship, politics, or even mutual interests. The only thing we had in common, was we both had teenaged daughters that went to the same school. Thus I knew her from the PTO meetings, and other functions. She DID seem to be one of those "busybodies" who knew everything, and wanted to tell it. So given the chance, I asked her what was going on, when we met out at the common post that held 5 different neighbors' mailboxes, and newspaper- receptacles. (All for the convenience of the post-office, not us.) "Haven't you heard?" she asked. "The guy's a pedophile." "Huh?" I said. "Who's a what?" "I said he's a pedophile. The pervert who moved into the house behind yours. It was in the paper the other day. Under some new law, the police keep track of pedophiles, and notify people when they move into a neighborhood. Especially when they contain children, like ours. So we're all holding a demonstration." "Oh," I said, with not much brilliance. "What's a pedophile?" Cindy looked at me like I was the school dunce. I didn't care. She wasn't that good a friend. "A pedophile," she said, "A child-lover." "Oh," I said. "I can see why people might be pleased to have someone who loves children around," I said, perplexed, "but I don't see that it's all that strange. At least, not enough to hold a celebration about." By this time, you could hear the shouts from clear over on our street. It must have been some celebration, I figured. "I mean, doesn't almost everybody love children?" I asked. Now Cindy looked at me like I was something slimy that had crawled out from under a rock. I must have looked like the village-cretin to her. 1 "I mean," she emphasized, "he makes love to children, idiot." With that, my neighbor stomped off towards her house, without a backward glance. I never saw her again, as she, her husband, and three children moved out about a month later. I never did find out why. I still wondered what the fuss was all about. If Cindy had remained, I might have asked her if she meant he was a child- lover like my father had been. Even if he was, I didn't see why people should get so excited. I mean, what's the big deal about a guy who fucks little girls? They aren't all THAT rare, as I'd found out when I was young. Maybe there was something about ones like him, that the police kept track of, and called that funny name. . . Pedophile. . . Hmmm, a police-certified pedophile. If he was THAT good, then maybe my daughters wouldn't have to grow up frustrated, like I had thought they would since Daddy died. It's hard for a woman to take care of 5 girls and a little boy all alone, on just the money the insurance paid. As for finding a husband. . . With that combination, it was hopeless. Most men on finding out I was saddled with 6 children vanished after the first date; never even coming to meet the kids and find out how nice they were. After a while I had almost given up on finding a man who liked children like my father did. Still, if this guy over in the new house was what they said he was, then maybe there was a chance after all. My spirit brightened, until I remembered the commotion going on over in the next development. If real pedophiles were so rare that people held celebrations whenever one moved into the neighborhood, then I didn't have a chance against all the other women who would be trying to get him to help take care of their little girls. Damn! Why did they have to put it in the newspapers? Then I realized. . . If they hadn't, I would have never found out what he was. Maybe there WAS a good reason after all. Maybe they did it just to let women like me with little children know. I was warmed by the thought that some people cared enough to find out who pedophiles were, and then let people like me with little children know they were coming. I just HAD to meet the new neighbor. Still, I had learned long ago, not to try introducing yourself when there's a crowd around a celebrity. Get him (or her) alone, and you might make a friend. So I waited until the next day to go visit. What a mess! The "pedophile" was out in front of his house, sweeping up some glass, while the yard was filled with trash, signs yelling "Pedophile!" and a big burned-spot in the middle of the yard. "It's a shame that otherwise decent people can't clean up after they hold a celebration," I thought, as I picked up a big piece of glass, and tossed it into the trash-bin the guy was filling up. It didn't look like it was going to be big enough. The man didn't LOOK all that different from any other man. About 6 feet tall, glasses, and somewhat skinny. Perhaps about my age, or a little younger. I was a bit saddened that he wasn't older, like Daddy, but you can't have everything. I figured the best way to make friends, was to help him clean up after the big party, so I grabbed a broom that he wasn't using, and started sweeping the sidewalk. 2 He looked at me startled for a moment, then said, "Thanks. You weren't here last night, were you?" I shook my head. "You seemed a little. . . Busy," I said. He shook his head, ruefully. "What happened here?" I said, holding up a big chunk of glass that must have come from his post-lamp in the driveway. He looked at it, shrugged, and said, "Rock," laconically. I looked at the shattered lamp, and the mess around. "Surely it wasn't deliberate?" I asked, incredulous. "Lady, I'm a pedophile," he explained. "See that burned- spot? The police barely managed to put it out, before they burned down the house. Only by arresting the worst two of them, did they get the people to leave. Now do you understand?" "I can't understand why people would do such a thing, no matter HOW happy they are," I said; as I tried stuffing three big placards reading "Save our children!" into the trash bin. ("Save our children?" It's amazing how much some people would expect from just one man. . . Of course, maybe police-certified pedophiles had more capability than others.) The man looked at me with astonishment, as he dumped a pile of trash in alongside the stuff I had just added. The yard was starting to look better, as we worked together. I could get to like working alongside a handsome guy like this. He looked back at me suspiciously. "Do you even know what a pedophile is?" he asked. (I did, having looked it up in the dictionary, the night before.) "You're a child-lover," I replied. "What's so bad about that?" He giggled almost insanely for a moment. "I'm a man who has sex with children!" he exploded, "Or at least, so they say!" "Do you?" I asked, hopefully. "Have sex with children, that is?" "I pled 'No Contest' to the charge," he said, "and I'm out on probation." Wow. So he wasn't even a full-fledged pedophile, and had to go through probation, before they certified him. . . Damn. Still, maybe he would be as good as the "real thing." "How come?" I asked, hoping to find out why. "I was fucking this guy's 13-year-old daughter," he explained, "when she got pregnant. The guy got all uptight about it, and pressed charges. He wouldn't let me marry her even, though we both wanted to. What's REALLY sick, is the guy married HIS wife, when she was only 12, with HER parent's permission." "Oh," I said, secretly thrilled. Maybe he could help after all, Lisa was 13, just like the girl he had already been fucking, and Cynthia was 11, which wasn't all THAT much younger. Perhaps I could get him to teach the girls after all. "Perhaps he was just jealous, and wanted his daughter for himself," I suggested, remembering Daddy. He laughed bitterly for a moment, then started chuckling for real. "You know what?" he said, "I believe you're right. I believe the old goat wanted to boff the kid himself, and plant HIS baby in her sexy little belly." 3 "Well," I said, "if she's that cute, can you blame him?" "Are you for real, Lady?" he asked. "I mean, do you have any kids of your own?" "Six," I said promptly, "Five girls and a boy. Thirteen, eleven, nine, eight, five, and seven, respectively." He looked at me funny-like. "So what would YOU think, if I came over one day, and fucked all five of your little girls, right in front of you?" God! I'd begun to fear he'd never ask. "Would you?" I asked. "Not on your life, Lady. I've got enough troubles already," he said. "But damn, you almost make it sound as if you wanted me to." He turned and motioned me to follow him in the house. "I do," I said under my breath. Still, I wasn't going to push things. A certified pedophile like he was, probably had too many little girls to fuck already, even if he was on probation for not doing a proper job on one of them. I could bide my time. . . If he REALLY loved little girls, then seeing my cute daughters running around half-naked like they did most of the summer, would get his interest. Especially if I helped them, knowing what Daddy used to like. I could hardly wait. In the meantime, it was nice to talk to a man who didn't think of little girls as sexless pixies. He even seemed to like ME, even though I'm getting kind of old for a child-lover, at 26. Not to mention the fact that I was single, with 6 children. I shuddered as I remembered how most men had acted when they found I had that many kids. Mark (I picked up his name over a cup of coffee, as we talked in his house, after finishing the lawn.) might not even see that as a disadvantage, being a pedophile. No wonder pedophiles were so much in demand that people would throw a party like the one last night, when one moved into the neighborhood. And he was my next-door neighbor, too. . . Just across the back yard. Me with 5 cute little girls living right next door to a pedophile. . . I couldn't believe my luck. Over the next few months, several of my neighbors (almost all the ones with children) moved out. I couldn't believe it. Here the neighborhood gets its own registered pedophile, and after that tremendous welcome, all the people with children move away, without ever letting their children even see him. Oh well, what was their loss, was our gain. Several times that spring, when the weather was warm I dressed the kids in their skimpiest clothes, and either walked by on the bike-path by his house, or worked in the back yard, when we saw him working in his. A couple of times I took one of the two older girls with me, when I went over to visit, as we were becoming fast friends. Strangely, for someone with a reputation like his, he didn't seem to make friends with many of the neighbors. As I said, "Oh well." A couple of times I had invited him over to our house, but he seemed to be somewhat disturbed by seeing all the little girls and their brother wandering around the house in the skimpy underwear that we all usually wore when not going out. Daddy had always preferred to see me and the girls that way, and I had never grown to like wearing much clothing when safely in my own home. 4 Mark almost couldn't take his eyes off little Cynthia, when she came in wiping her eyes from sleep, naked as the day she was born, and settled into my lap with her little legs spread so he could see right up her cunny, almost to her navel. He didn't come over for two weeks after that, but eventually he seemed to take it in stride when one or the other of the girls (or boy) would come into the room displaying more of her charms than most models in Playboy. I hoped he was getting horny for them, as much as the girls were for him. Once he asked me while I was visiting at his house, "Sometimes I almost think you meant it, when you said you wouldn't mind if I fucked your little girls." "I did," I said. He just looked at me thoughtfully, but then didn't come over to visit for a week. Damn! It was in the middle of the summer, that I saw the opportunity. You know, summer. . . Swimsuits, and little kids? Yeah, that time of year. The summer was hot, and we quite often played in the creek dividing our properties. Since it was quite a way to the main road, I didn't feel guilty about letting the children go swimming (Well, OK, wading) there, as their shrieks and horseplay wouldn't disturb the neighbors. When I saw Mark was quite often working outside when the girls started playing, seeming to enjoy the sight of their half-naked bodies, it didn't take much convincing on my part, to talk the children into skinny-dipping. Each time they would look around carefully as if to make sure I wouldn't see them, then the girls would slip out of their clothes and run and splash in the water completely naked. Sometimes they noticed Mark watching them, and would wave at him, trying to get him to join them. He never did, but I noticed his "yardwork" picked up tremendously, after that. Eventually, he got used to seeing the little girls running around in various states of dress or undress, and it no longer bothered him to visit when one of the girls would come into the room wearing some particularly sexy outfit, or none at all. So I decided it was time to proceed with the next step. By now, all 6 children seemed to think Mark's back yard was an extension of ours. Since Mark didn't do anything to correct the misapprehension, neither did I. In fact, I encouraged my daughters to play in his yard (never when he could hear me) and ask him favors. . . Like using the bathroom; getting a drink; borrowing a towel when wet from swimming, etc. I then started asking him, If he could "keep an eye on the girls for just a second or two" while I dashed to the store or whatever silly errand I could make up. The girls didn't really need ANYONE watching over them, as the two older girls were quite capable of taking care of their little sisters and brother. Still, I deliberately built up an image of all six kids needing babysitting, whenever I was gone, and me as a person who couldn't afford a babysitter for more than an hour or so at a time. 5 Surprisingly, it was Kimmy, who made the first breakthrough. I had really expected it to be Lisa or Jackie, especially considering the fact that his past experience (what he told me of it) had been with a 11 and then 12 year old girl. . . So I really expected him to make his first pass at the older girls, and I'd have to work to make him see that the younger ones could be just as sexy. What a pleasant surprise to find out he was already attracted to kids even younger. "Momma," said the cute little 5-year-old, as she sat on my lap eating a cookie. "He touched me, down there." The little girl looked pointedly between her legs, where her pouting little hole made a plump circle, in contrast to the plump peach-like look of her three-year-older sister. "Who, Mark?" I asked, hoping. "Uhuh," she confirmed. "He just rubbed it a little, while I was sitting in his lap, but I could tell he was feeling me, not just holding me." "What were you doing in his lap?" I asked. I hadn't realized that any of the girls had gotten even that far yet. "We play Nintendo, and he's only got one controller," the little girl explained. Wahoo! I almost shouted for joy. Why else would Mark buy a kid's game, if he didn't want the kids playing with it. Of course, maybe having lots of kid's toys around the house for little girls to play with, was standard equipment for pedophiles. . . I didn't know. "Do any other of the kids sit on his lap?" I asked. "Sometimes Cynthia or Candy does," she replied, "though Candy always keeps complaining about the lump in his pants afterwards. I don't mind his penis getting big under me though." "Uh. . . You and the girls don't TELL him that, do you?" I asked. "Of course not Momma. We don't want him knowing we know about sex, until he shows us; just like you told us." I breathed a sigh of relief. As long as HE thought he was seducing the kids, then it was OK. If he ever thought I had set out to have them seduce him, then he might think I was trying to sneak some free service for my daughters from him. Who knows how much a certified pedophile would charge to fuck five little girls, and teach them and their little brother about sex? On the little income I had from the insurance, I couldn't afford to find out. Since he was the type of guy in the first place, who DID like to fuck little girls, I figured maybe he might be tempted into doing it for free, if the girls were cute enough. . . And all my kids were. So, while I prompted the kids on what to do, I let Mark set the pace. For some reason, it was almost as though he felt guilty about playing around with my kids, as if it was HE who should be paying ME, and he would get in trouble if he got caught "sneaking a feel" without paying for it. I giggled at the thought. Well if that was the case, shortly I'd be able to squash that worry. "Next time," I said to my daughter, "spread your legs a little, to make it easier for him. Don't act like you know what he's doing, but show you like it, OK?" 6 "Yes, Momma," sighed the 5-year-old, "I KNOW all that." Kids learn so fast these days. . . From then, it was a "blow-by-blow" description, with almost every day little Kimmie getting him to go a little further. "He actually touched my cunny today, Momma." "He rubbed my titties through my shirt." This, from Cynthia! "Oh wow, Momma, today he really rubbed me hard, actually running his finger through my crack. No, he didn't take off my pants yet." "Momma! He did it! He actually ran his hand down in my panties, and almost stuck his finger inside me. I was so excited I almost died!" "Well, he DID rub my titties, up under my shirt. . . Does that count, Momma?" "Oooh Momma. You were right. His finger feels almost as good in me, as yours does." (Oh well, give the guy a few weeks finding out what the girls liked, and I'm sure he would get as good at diddling the kids as I was.) "I took off my panties today, and he didn't say anything. The lump got bigger in his pants though." By this time, I was getting a little disappointed. Mark was almost openly fondling all three of the younger girls, as long as it was only them, but he hadn't even made a pass at the two older ones, who needed him most! Figuring he might be worried about the older girls "telling", I decided it was finally time to "catch on" myself. The next afternoon, I sent the three younger kids over to "play Nintendo" then waited for about 20 minutes for things to get "warmed up" inside the house. Then, using the FRONT door, not the back, (Cynthia had found where he hid the key.) I slipped inside and slowly walked up behind the man who was oh-so-nicely molesting my little girl. I was proud of both of them. Actually, all four of them, the two kids sitting on the floor with their legs deliberately spread, so he could see right up inside their tight little cunnies, and the little 8-year-old girl being diddled on the couch by her 23-year-old lover. I watched for a while to see how well he was doing. . . Fairly good, but as the girls said, "Not as good as I did." "She really likes to have her clit rubbed in a circle," I observed, "and then every once in a while stick your finger up in her hole. Just be careful you don't break her hymen, because she wants a man to do it with his penis when she gets a chance, just like her Daddy did to me, when I was her age." Ever heard the expression "He almost jumped out of his skin?" I swear, if it was possible, Mark would have done it that day. For a second, I thought he was going to have a heart-attack at being caught with his hands in my little girl's panties. (Actually, the panties in question were in a heap on the floor, next to Cynthy's feet.) 7 Mark turned several shades of white, then blue, and gasped for breath. He didn't yank his finger out of the little girl though, thank goodness. I think for a moment, he had actually forgotten it was there, as my presence scared him half to death. . . Why, I don't know. You'd think he was afraid I'd be mad, or shoot him or something, instead of just being annoyed. He finally seemed to realize this. "You mean you don't mind?" he asked, almost incredulously. I wondered what was the matter. Would some people actually object to their daughters having fun with an older man? I found it hard to believe; but I guess there are some weirdoes in the world. "Of course not," I snapped, almost harshly. "I'm just wondering, why do you treat the little kids so nice, and neglect the older ones? I mean, Lisa and Jackie enjoy sex just as much as Cynthia, Kim and Candy," I said. "Not to mention, Bobby and me," I added under my breath. Still, Mark was a pedophile. . . A man who liked sex with little girls, not little boys or old women like me. I sighed with frustration. Mark heard me anyway. "You. . . Want ME. . . To have sex with you, and all your children?" he asked, incredulously. I nodded. Wasn't that what I just said? "I realize that I'm probably way too old for you, and Bobby's just a boy," I explained, "But that's no reason you should neglect the girls. I mean, I might not be what you want for a sex partner, but you already said you liked girls Lisa's age. So why don't you fuck them? I mean, I may not be as young and pretty as they are, but I'm not really expecting you to want to fuck me. But why neglect Jackie and Lisa? Aren't THEY pretty enough for you?" "Oh Crap!" said Mark. I was devastated. Here I had such high hopes. . . "The sexiest woman I've ever seen, let alone met, tells me she thinks she's too old and ugly for me. . . The same woman I've been having wet-dreams about, for the last six months, tells me she's under the impression I think she's ugly!" Here Mark looked at me with an intensity that was almost frightening. "Then this same girl, who's got me creaming my jeans just thinking about her, offers me her two wet-dream daughters who I've been fighting a losing battle to keep my hands off of, as 'substitutes' to fuck, because she feels she's 'too old' for me. Oh God! Not only that, but this same unbelievably desirable young woman seems to want me to teach her OTHER four incredibly sexy little kids about sex, like some child-molesting pervert's wet-dream about a 'sex-education-class'. This is fucking unreal. I must have blown my cork. On the other hand, if it's real, I'll hate myself until I die, if I don't take advantage of this." Mark seemed to be talking more to himself, than me. "If you meant one word of what you just told me," he said, looking me straight in the eye, "Then you'll take off those clothes right now, so we can give the kids their first lesson in having sex." "Right here? Right Now? In front of the kids?" I asked, suddenly aware of six pairs of eyes on the two of us, as my two eldest girls and their little brother had joined the crowd, the way I had instructed them to, about 20 minutes earlier. 8 "Right here. Right Now. And in front of the kids," he said quietly; waiting. I didn't even hear the finish of his sentence, I was too busy skinning out of the short little summer dress I wore, and removing my shoes. Dress, shoes and panties were all I usually wore in the summer, and I probably would have skipped the panties, except that Daddy had always told me he thought a woman looked sexier with panties than naked, and if not, she could always take them off, but if she didn't have them, she couldn't put them on. Made sense to me, like most of what Daddy used to say. It took Mark about three seconds longer to get undressed, but then he was like a tiger pouncing. For the first time in five long years since Daddy died, I felt my hot little hole filled properly with hot male prick. (None of the "dates" I had in the past ever got to first base, because they all chickened out when I brought them home, and they found out the size of my family.) God, that was good! I resolved never again to go without sex for over a month or two, if I could avoid it. Month or two? How about hour or two? If he was a tiger, I was a tigress, practically raping him to get him to squirt his precious seed in my empty aching womb where it belonged. I was just reaching my third panting screaming frantic orgasm when I felt Mark's wonderfully thick prick swelling inside me. Oh God! Mark was even bigger than Daddy! I actually bit his shoulder, as I strained for that glorious third release with his thick cream jetting inside my womb where it belonged. "Uh, Karen?" he asked; for some reason holding back on the thick squirts that would send me over the edge, "You're not on the pill, are you?" "Pill," I wondered, "what's that?" Daddy never told me. "Oh shit!" he exclaimed, "I'd better pull out." Only it was too late. By this time, the tickling inside my hot little hole had gotten to be too much, and I wrapped my legs around my sexy young lover, and practically RAPED myself on his thick prick. No way was my lover getting away, until each precious drop of his seed was as far up inside me as I could get it. I felt Mark's prick swell dangerously inside me, and then I was there! I don't know if I felt him actually squirt in me, but I sure felt each time Mark's prick swelled and jerked in my cunny! Just knowing my handsome young lover was planting his seed inside me, was almost as exciting as the fuck itself. Over and over I moaned and screamed, and milked the thick prick bucking in my belly, until both of us were too exhausted to try again. We finally rolled apart, and I spread my legs so the kids could all see what it was like for a woman to have a man's sperm inside her. I had told them many times, but this was the first they could see for themselves. Except for the two older kids; who vaguely remembered when Daddy and I had let them watch; while Lisa had actually been lucky enough to feel her father's prick squirting inside her vagina twice, before the big accident took him away. 9 "Oh God," groaned Mark. "I'm sorry, Karen, I just couldn't help myself. you're too sexy for your own good." "Huh?" I said, "Whatever are you rambling about. . . Sorry about what? That's the best sex I've had, since the first time Momma had Daddy get me pregnant." "First time. . . Wha? Never mind, we'll talk about that later. I just couldn't help it, Karen, but you got me so excited I came in you." "Oh boy, did you ever!" I agreed; enjoying the slick feel of greasy cum filling my horny slit for the first time in FAR too long. "Next time, maybe you can squirt even more in me," I said with a lewd grin. Several of the kids giggled. "Karen," he said; talking as if to a wayward child, "you might have a baby!" As if I didn't know all about babies. . . With six of them standing around watching us, as evidence that I did. "Well," I said, "I sure HOPE so. My period was a little over a week ago, so there's a pretty good chance, if we're lucky." "You MEAN that?" he asked incredulously. At my nod, he attacked me again! The next thing I knew, we were both rutting frantically again, while he muttered obscenities about little girls with big bellies and wanting to get knocked-up, and assorted garbage like that, that told me he was as excited about creating a new life as I was. I managed three more climaxes, before he gave a final weak spurt inside me, having spent the best part of himself the first time. I didn't care. . . For the first time in five years I was sexually satisfied. The proper way, with my lover's seed hopefully making a baby in my womb, while we snuggled together. When we finished and rolled apart, Lisa asked, "When can WE do it, Momma?" Mark looked at me grimly. "I don't care WHAT you say," he said, "I am NOT fucking your daughters. . . They're just too young." I just grinned to myself; sated, happy, and well-fucked. Hopefully with a baby growing in my belly, but if not, then there was always tomorrow. As for Mark and my little girls. . . If he was a true pedophile, or "little girl lover" as they say, then he would come around. I sent the girls home disappointed, to look after each other, while we spent the rest of the afternoon in Mark's bed. If the girls needed me, they knew where to find me. Two weeks later, Mark still hadn't gone any further, and I didn't even mention it again. Better for things to proceed at HIS pace, than to scare him off. Except for me getting laid almost every day, and sometimes several times a day, the only change had been that Mark was now "feeling up" the older girls too, now that he knew I wouldn't object, and they wouldn't either. 10 It was fully three weeks later, that I finally caught him with Lisa in his lap, his thick cock halfway down her throat. Mark just looked at me, shrugged, and looked embarrassed. I watched until I saw a white bubble appear in the little girl's nose, and realized he was squirting so much sperm down my daughter's throat, that it was backing up her nose. Damn, I was proud of her. After that, I would sometimes find one or the other of the girls with my lover's prick in her mouth, and shortly thereafter, I watched him give little Cynthia a "licking that keeps on ticking." I finally figured out that the only times Mark went a little further with the girls, were the times when I wasn't there. . . As if, all the evidence to the contrary, he still believed I would do something horrible, if I caught him seducing one of the kids. It seems that I had to somehow get out of the house, and leave him alone with the girls for some time. Thus the "babysitting" idea. "Mark, I've got a VERY important date, I've just GOT to get to. . . NO, not that type of date, you idiot. I'm only fucking the father of my baby. Yes father. What do you expect, fucking an innocent little girl, who doesn't know how to protect herself against such things?" We'll talk about that later. . . Right now, I need a BIG favor." "No, not THAT 'favor' you idiot, though I might want that later. . . I need a babysitter." Mark looked at me like I was nuts. "You want a babysitter?" he asked. "That's what I said, a babysitter. I've got to be gone almost all night, and I don't want the girls left alone. . . OK?" "Why don't you get the babysitter you had before?" he asked. "Have you ever seen me use a babysitter before?" I asked. "Well, no but. . ." "Well, The last one I ever had was Momma, just before she died of cancer." "Oh." Mark thought about it. "Can't you get anybody else?" he asked. "Mark, I want YOU. I don't trust anybody else with my girls." "Let me get this straight," he said, "You want ME, a known pedophile and child-molester to 'babysit' your sexy little girls, that you 'don't trust alone with other men.' Have I got that right?" "Uhuh," I said. "You're the only man I trust alone with them, because you truly love children." "Oh yeah?" he said. "What if you come back and find me fucking your 13-year-old daughter; 'sitting' a baby in her belly, instead of just 'sitting' and watching her?" "As long as she doesn't mind, then I don't," I replied. "You're crazy," he said, "you know that?" "So," I asked, "will you do it?" "I must be just as crazy as you are," he said, "but if you insist, I'll do it." 11 "Oh thanks, Mark, I'll make SURE you don't regret this," I said; wriggling my tummy at him in a suggestive manner. He got the hint. . . Two minutes later, we were back in bed, for the second time that day. "Father huh?" he said afterwards; while running his big hand over my still fairly smooth belly, down to where an obscene white drool leaked out. "Uhuh," I said. "Are you sorry?" "No. Are you?" "No." Two days later, I had the "date". (Actually, all alone to a VERY boring movie, and an equally boring meal in a restaurant.) Two guys tried to "pick me up" on the streets, but I wasn't interested. Having a perfect pedophile at home to take care of my little girls, I wasn't about to settle for anything less. Before I left I could tell Mark was nervous about the whole thing, so I tried to allay his fears by assuring him that I would tell the kids to obey him. For some reason, this seemed to make him even more nervous. However, the whole idea was to make him feel free to do whatever he wanted with my little girls, so I left him in the kitchen, (Where I knew he could still hear.) while I went into the other room and instructed the children, "Now I want all you kids to be sure and do anything Mark tells you to. He's in charge for tonight, just like it was me. So I don't want to come back later and find out that one of you refused to do something he told you to do. . . Understand?" "But Momma, what if he wants us to suck his cock or something?" Kids. . . You've got to love 'em. "Jackie," I said, "stop being silly. You've been sucking Mark's cock for weeks now. If he asks you or any of the other kids to do something like that, then I expect you to have at least a mouthful of his cum in your tummy before I get back. And that goes for all of you, understand?" "Yes, Momma. . . But what if he. . .?" "I said he's in charge. Unless you think you'll get hurt permanently, I expect you to do whatever he tells you to, and that's it. Now I'm going out for at LEAST four hours, and I want every one of you to do your best to keep Mark happy. He's the first babysitter I've ever trusted with you kids, and I want him to be willing to come back when I need to go out in the future. so I expect you kids to do whatever it takes to make him want to come back and do it again next time. OK?" "Yes Momma." There were no 'buts' this time. (Actually, the kids and I had rehearsed this whole conversation several times before Mark came over, just so we could have it while he listened in from the other room; thinking he was eavesdropping.) When I left, I deliberately left the door unlocked, and my purse in the bedroom. I drove down to the convenience-store, bought gas and a magazine and read it while I waited for a half- hour to pass, to give the man enough time to feel unobserved, and the girls to snuggle up next to him in the skimpy underthings we all wore around the house. 12 Hopefully, the kids would have tempted the man into doing more than just snuggle, before I returned for my "missing" purse. I hoped Mark was as good a "babysitter" as his reputation suggested he should be. He was. I eased the car up to the curb, not driving in the driveway, where Mark or the kids might hear it. Then I walked quietly to the front door and tried it. . . Locked! I almost giggled in glee, as I wondered why he would lock the door against me; seeing as nobody else would be likely to come by at this time of night. It was for this reason I had carefully oiled the lock earlier in the day, until I could turn it open without a sound. Now for the big act, where I had "forgotten" my purse, with the Movie tickets in it. (Yes tickets. . . I wasn't dumb enough to only buy one.) As I walked through the living-room in search of my "missing" purse, I found Mark "babysitting' the kids, just like I had hoped he would be, with Jackie "sitting" on his lap, while he slowly fucked her, with all the other kids watching; "sitting a baby" in the little girl's womb, while he "sits" on the couch, and she "sits" on the thick prick that was spasming her tiny little womb full of his potent baby-making seed. "Sorry to disturb you kids," I said; dashing through the room, "but I forgot my purse, and the theater tickets are still in it. Don't mind me; I'll only be a second." As if I hadn't even noticed the obscene coupling taking place on the couch. Not that I could have missed it if I had tried. I guess the shock of "being caught" was too much, as I heard Jackie suddenly keening in orgasm, followed by a loud, "Oh shit!" from Mark. I guess the little girl's squeezing climax took him over the edge too, in spite of the scary feeling of being caught fucking my little girl. I looked over the edge of the couch, as I returned the way I had come; purse in hand. By now Mark was doing a REALLY good job of "sitting" a baby in my daughter's womb. I was so proud of my little girl for taking good care of my fiance while I was out. Not to mention how well Mark was taking of my daughters. (Oh. . . Didn't I mention that Mark and I were now engaged?) "I see you're taking good care of the girls," I said; looking down to where a thick white drool had just appeared; running in an obscene streak down the thick cylinder that had vanished into my daughter's nubile young body. I gave his shocked face a kiss, and left, saying, "don't forget the other kids too. I'll be back after my date." I then left to my boring night, which was made even MORE boring and insipid by all the horny thoughts that ran through my head as I imagined all the nasty and obscene things my future husband was probably doing to my little girls. DAMN, I wanted to see it. But I knew if I had been there, the man would probably have been too frightened or embarrassed to even try seducing the kids, even with (or maybe especially with) my encouragement. AT 12:15 I figured Mark had been alone with my little girls long enough. If he was going to do anything with any of them, it had probably long since been done. Besides, I had only said I was going to be out past midnight. 13 I just HAD to find out how far Mark had gone with each of them. At least ONE of my little girls now knew what the man's bare quivering penis felt like, spurting thick sticky cream in her hot little hole, and if they all hadn't, I still figured it wouldn't be all that long until they did. I wondered who I would find awake when I got back, and who would be sleeping with whom. When I opened the door, the house was silent. Not even the creaking of bedsprings I had been hoping for. Looking into each of the bedrooms, I found all of the children asleep, except the oldest one. Mark and Lisa were in MY bed, (Deliberately I guess, so I couldn't miss it.) The man was slowly stroking in and out of my little girl's body, as my eldest daughter and her older lover strove together for a climax. I guess the two of them had waited for several hours until they heard me come in; just so they could give me this thrill. I watched as Mark tensed above his child-lover, before he suddenly jerked his crotch into hers and began shuddering. As I watched, I knew my eldest daughter's fertile young womb was even then being flooded with the man's potent seed, as my fiance did his best to father a child on my little girl; just like he had done to me, sometime in the previous month. "You know," I remarked, "Lisa's not on the pill, and her period was almost two weeks ago." (I had picked this night for my 'date' for just that reason.) "There's a VERY good chance," I continued, "that you're getting my little girl pregnant, right now." "I know," said Mark. "I know," repeated Lisa, happily. God, I'm so proud of my little girl. It took about a month, before Mark was finally fucking the little kids too; finally taking Cynthia's despised "cherry" and fucking her just like her big sisters. Yes, even Candy and Kimmy are now getting fucked properly by my husband; with his potent seed squirting right into their tiny little wombs where it belongs, at least two or three times a week. I envy my little girl; getting fucked for the first time a whole year younger than I was, the first time Momma had Daddy fuck me. It's so cute to see a little 5-year-old girl being royally fucked by a man old enough to be her father twice over. To see the little girl's belly bulge each time the older man slides his prick inside her, and then flatten again when he pulls it out. Then, when he finally loses control and begins jerking his prick inside her; jamming his body as close to hers as he can, while his prick pumps the child's body full of the white stuff that makes babies. . . I mean, how lucky can you get at only five? I suppose the only way she could be luckier, would be if Mark got her pregnant. I had been 11, almost 12, the first time Momma had Daddy get me pregnant with Lisa. Maybe one of the girls would get to feel her tummy swelling even earlier than I had. As it was, I still envied Kimmy for getting to feel a man's prick squirting his potent seed in her tiny little womb when she was almost a whole year younger than I had been the first time Daddy slipped into my room. Oh well, I guess some of us are born lucky; and some aren't. 14 Even Bobby had been getting "sex-lessons" from Mark. I watched proudly just the other day, as the little boy fucked his little sister Kimmy for the first time, with his stepfather's prick buried to the hilt in the little boy's ass, just like he was pumping sperm right through the kid, and into his little sister. We're all hoping my son will be big enough to squirt sperm in his little sister's womb, in time for her first period, so Kimmy can carry her big brother's baby, before Mark gets the little girl pregnant by accident. . . Of course, that wouldn't be so bad either, but we're all looking forward to mating the two kids, just like we hope to mate my daughter and Lisa's baby boy that we expect in a couple of months. We think there's a chance that Jackie might have missed her period already, while Cynthia could have her first one any day now. It seems that Mark is almost as good at teaching the kids about sex, as Daddy was at teaching me. God, I just can't believe how lucky I was to find a genuine "police-certified" pedophile right next door. I understand from the newspapers, that they are expecting the law having the police tell people when a pedophile moves into the neighborhood, struck down as "unconstitutional". I hear it's mostly because of some of the demonstrations people have when they do; like that big party they held the night Mark first moved in. It seems that some people in the demonstrations always get annoyed at finding out the police told everybody, and they get carried away. There have actually been cases where people got hurt. In a couple of them, it was even the pedophile the people had come to see, if you can believe it. Damn! What's so bad about having the police tell people like me where they can find a pedophile to fuck their horny little girls, when they need one? There just aren't enough men around who love little girls. I mean, REALLY love them, as in, "Love to fuck them." We need MORE "certified pedophiles" not less. Too bad Daddy died in that accident. I wonder if my father could have qualified as one? 15 -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /