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                    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. . . <Sigh.>
     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."  <Giggle.>
     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?"  <Giggle.> <Snort.>
     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?"  <Giggle.>
     <Sigh.>  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
