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Molestr (Mg, oral, anal) AnonyMPC 15/10/16(Fri)19:00 No. 23912 ID: a609fb

Just a short piece I wrote quickly a few days ago. Went a little younger than I usually do, but mostly because one part of the idea demanded it. Probably not my best but sometimes you have to clear some ideas out when they're interfering with other ones.

Molestr (Mg, oral, anal)

Everyone knows that every new technology will be used for sex, if it possibly can be. Sometimes directly, sometimes as a means to acquire it, and when all else fails, it'll be used to make porn so people can have sex with themselves.

Everyone also knows that the first and most enthusiastic adopters of new technology are the young. They may rely on their parents to actually GET the technology, but if they can get their hands on it, kids'll use it like it was second nature. They call this generation digital natives, and it's pretty accurate... one of my nieces learned to read on a tablet, not a book.

Like everyone else, I knew both of those pieces of common wisdom about technology... what I didn't consider was the intersection point. At least, not until I got caught in between where those two universal truths collided, and my whole world changed forever.

I rarely went anywhere without my smartphone, like most people, but, a little more unusually, I almost never used it as a phone. Instead, I had four main uses for it. I used it to keep track of news, weather and traffic, I used it to play games to pass dead time, I used it to keep up to date on social media accounts, and, in the spirit of that first eternal rule, I sometimes I used it to attempt to get laid, although mostly I told myself I was searching for love.

Mostly, I was, but sometimes, I'd have been satisfied with sex. And I'm not going to lie. Neither goal ever worked that well for me. At all. But then, that wasn't the phone's fault, I just wasn't that good at the social interaction thing in general, much less hooking up with people.

I like to think that I look decent enough to attract a girl, and I can get first dates, but after that... it never quite works out. I've got a certain awkwardness that puts people off when they first meet me... most of my romances have been people from school or work who knew me for a while, but I was out of school and at work there were no suitable options left that weren't either in a relationship or somone I'd already tried and failed to make a connection. And random dates, whether set-up by friends and family or attempted on my own, just hadn't been working out... there's probably something to the idea that desperation was making the problem even worse. But I kept trying, intermittently, when the loneliness or horniness got too intense.

It was during one of those periods that I was out drinking with a few friends, people from work. Honestly, I wasn't great at making friends, either, but at least that was easier, and at work, easiest of all. The same rules applied, once they got to know me, the awkwardness faded and we found common interests. Since I started working there I'd carved out a small group of friends, and we'd go out as a group a few times a month to a sports bar.

Normally it's a bit of relaxing fun, we'd watch something or play a trivia game, eat some cheap food... except this time, where, over a big plate of wings, somehow the conversation had come around to my love life. I'd always tried to gently steer away from a focus on me, but occasionally these people knew I'd had a date and then, pretty soon, knew that it hadn't gone well, and when that happened, it was hard to avoid the commentary.

This night of drinks was right after one of those rejections. The date itself actually had gone fairly well, at least I thought. I was hoping for a second. But when I asked her for another date, after waiting two days (three is the recommended, but I couldn't wait)... she told me she had just started dating somebody seriously.

Fuck my life. I'm not going to blame her for what happened to me, but... I was mopey all day after the rejection, and when I was invited out after, I was probably hitting the drinks, and the hot wings harder than usual. I'm not a weepy drunk, or an angry drunk, but I can go between broody and happy, depending on my mood when I start out, and it got noticed, and after a little prodding, I told them the story, as dull as it was.

"So, you'll get the next one," said Jimmy, trying to be encouraging but coming off more than a little bored. "Don't stress over it. Stressing is the worst thing you can do."

"It's true," said Rama. "Your problem is that you put the pussy on a pedestal." I'd heard those words before but they somehow sounded more ridiculous than usual with a slight Indian accent. "You're too polite and hesitant, it turns the girls off... you just need to go for it. Seal the deal, man."

"It's not just about sex. I could have sex," I said, trying to convince myself as much as them. "It's more important to be with someone I want to actually spend time with." And it was. But, so was what he said, that I probably should be more aggressive. And, right then... the sex was the part my mind seemed to be focusing on. I don't know if you've ever been that low, but sometimes it seems like everybody's having constant wild sex but you... and it doesn't just make you horny and depressed, it makes you irrationally angry, like somebody's having too much and taking your share when all you want is one person to love and fuck once in a while. If you're like me, you push it down and don't let it show, but it's another layer of unpleasantness to a life deprived.

"That's sweet," said Karen, Jimmy's girlfriend. Before he swooped in, I nursed a bit of a crush on her. I guess I still did, but I didn't make it obvious. "You shouldn't give up on that hope, really." Then she looked at Jimmy, like she expected him to say what came next.

He did, and I wondered for a moment if they'd talked about me alone, or if it was a sign that they were perfectly in synch. One more reason to envy the bastard. I mean bastard mostly affectionately, I wouldn't have gone drinking with him if I didn't like him, but a part of me still glowered inside at the knowledge that he, seemingly effortlessly, fell into the kind of connection I craved. Of course, maybe he didn't even say what she expected him to say. "But it's been a while, right? Since you've had sex?"

I wouldn't have answered it if I hadn't already been drinking, and if they weren't all staring at me. "A couple months, yeah." Which was the truth, if you allowed "a couple months" to include anywhere up to half a year... and then doubled it. And added a few months on top.

"See," Rama said, as though that proved his point. "Before you can have a relationship, you need to get laid. That's probably why you're not getting anywhere, you stink of desperation." This wasn't the first time I'd heard it. It wasn't even the first time I heard it from Rama.

"It's true," Karen said, then made a face. "I mean, I don't think you literally stink of desperation, but... women can sense it when you're too eager. Don't give up on love, but some plain old meaningless sex once in a while is fine too." She locked eyes with Jimmy, then added, quickly, "When you're not in a relationship, I mean."

I know they were trying to help, but I suppressed a scowl. What annoyed me about this advice most was the assumption that this was just so easy. Maybe for some people it was, but these were the people that didn't need it. But I didn't say anything, just stared into my bottle, and that let Jimmy speak again. "Yeah. Just have a one-night stand, find a woman who doesn't want anything more either... hell, get a prostitute if you have to."

"Don't get a prostitute," Karen said, rolling her eyes. "But go to a club, take a girl home that you would never normally go for." Again, much easier said than done. Then again, I bet every time Karen went to a club with the hope of going home with some random guy she'd never met, she succeeded.

As she spoke, Rama pulled out his phone, and called up an program. "Here, this is a good app for that."

"I've already tried Tinder." There were certainly a number of women I felt worthy of swiping right on. Or was it swiping left? The fact that I could never remember probably didn't help. But either way, I'd gotten no matches. I worried that maybe my pictures weren't up to snuff or my profile didn't attract, but, in the end, I put it down to the usual problem in a dating pool: so many more guys than girls, along with me being too picky. That was a big problem for me. I got picky and ridiculous things, from unpleasant appearance, to smoking, to tattoos, to putting 'wine' as an interest, were enough to make me push the rejection button. Maybe they had a point that I should just be less picky for a while, accept everyone and see what happens. Maybe I could give Tinder another try. Especially while drunk.

Rama had a different option, though. "This isn't Tinder. It's local, and it's more... openly about hookups." Tinder already seemed to be pretty openly about hookups, so I looked up, curious about how a site could be even more blatant about it. He showed me the screen, and the name was prominent while it loaded up. I'm not going to reveal it. But it was like Tumblr, or Flickr, omitting a letter to seem hip and edgy. That alone made sure I didn't have high hopes, but, still... my co-workers had a point. I needed to change something. "It's getting popular."

Fine, I thought. I'd try it. What's the worst that could happen?

The decision didn't feel like a big dramatic revelation, for all that it wound up changing my life. Their advice wasn't entirely new, after all. I was honest when I said I was trying to build a relationship, but I'd always kept myself open to meaningless flings. I just hadn't had any luck there, either, none presented themselves. Of course, I'd done it passively, telling myself that if I went on the date and it seemed like it could be a one night stand, I'd go for it. The idea that maybe I should try to get a girl and just be open about only wanting meaningless sex right off the bat... it wasn't a new idea, but it was one I'd always been unwilling to consider. But why not? If nothing else was working, you've got to change things, right? "Maybe," I said, not wanting to seem too eager and invite them asking about my progress later. But I took a mental note of the app name so I could look it up later. It couldn't hurt to try an entirely new site for a fresh start. I could create a profile there, use a fake name, be bold. It was worth a try. "Anyway, enough about me... can you guys believe that asshole Craig?" It was a transparent attempt to change the subject... we'd already discussed him, but they let it slide and we talked about other things, had a few more drinks, and I took a cab home.

It was the next evening that I remembered the app, looked it up, and installed it on my phone. I spent about five minutes browsing without doing anything, and decided to put it aside for a while, that I'd stick with my usual assortment of dating sites, Tinder, and the like. Maybe I'd come back to it when I got desperate.

Desperation came on next Casual Friday, where Karen wore a tight fucking t-shirt that drew my eye to her cleavage all day, although subtly. And worse, I think she knew it and was playing to me. It could have been my imagination. I didn't walk around with a boner all day, but it seeped into my subconscious and I was horny as fuck when I went home. I did a little porn browsing to relieve the immediate tension, and when I was done with the unsatisfying solo act, began to yearn again for some actual female companionship. So, when I found I had no new matches anywhere else, I went back to the new app.

I wasn't expecting much. It had seemed right off the bat to be a transparent knock-off of the actual Tinder... you either approved or rejected somebody, and once you rejected them, they didn't seem to come up again. The big difference I noticed was that it didn't seem to connect to Facebook (which was advertised as a feature, not a drawback), and, perhaps as a consequence, there seemed to be a lot more profiles without pictures at all, just descriptions, like "Twenty-three year old curvy girl, loves giving oral, no names needed." Sometimes they'd say pictures available on request. Sometimes they openly asked for money, which made me wonder if Rama was just politely giving me the means to go get a prostitute.

But what the fuck, I thought. The whole point of this was to just go for it, get laid. It had been too long, and my standards were a lot lower. It wouldn't be my first choice, but if finding someone who was just up for it for fun didn't work out....

I filled out a simple profile, bare bones... I figured if some of them wouldn't put pictures, neither would I. I just said I was mid-twenties, fit, which was true enough. In the options menu, there was a "willing to pay for play", which, although they refused to define it, seemed pretty clearly to imply prostitution. I clicked "we'll talk" because, I didn't want to limit my options and... fuck it, I was horny and willing to take out my frustrations over Karen on a prostitute at that point. They also had a menu option for kinks, and I selected "I'll try anything once," knowing in my heart that I probably wouldn't. It had some other traditional dating profile options too... I selected "Cartoons" and "Secret Codes" under 'likes' (more because I was surprised that the option was given than out of any particular interest) and under pet peeves, I chose, off their provided list, smoking, drugs, and, to inject a bit of whimsy, "typos."

I realized that I was going back on my plan to create an ultra-desirable persona that wasn't at all like me, and lower my standards. Admitting to liking cartoons and adding whimsy was the kind of thing you did when you wanted to find a girlfriend who was like you, not when you wanted to portray an alpha male and hook up. But I guess I was just too honest... it's hard to change a lifetime of habits, at least without a good push.

My own profile set, I went back to the real meat of the site, skimming through the available profiles that were presented. I started off by selecting most of the girls, unless their pictures were obviously not my type or their profiles were too old for me. I guess I was still pickier than I had any right to be, but I congratulated myself on being willing to look past tattoos, although that turned out not to matter, in the end. Once I got tired of making choices, I put the phone away and watched some Netflix. I didn't have high hopes. These things took time, if they took at all.

It was Sunday when I got my first and, for quite a while, only, hit.

It wasn't only a match, but she had already sent me a message. The preview said "Hiiii...." but I would have had to press on it to see the whole thing.

It was exciting to get a positive result so quickly, but I pressed on her name first and checked out the profile before I read the full message and got my hopes up. It was not promising... one of those with no pictures. The written description seemed to paint the picture of a very sexually open girl. As I read it, it went like this: "19-year-old girl tight body likes 2 have fun. I'll suck you if you lick me. We'll do more if I like you." After that, there was a series of acronyms I couldn't make heads or tails of... UABFC, TJES, a few others.

My first thought was, "Whore." In a literal sense, not a pejorative one. She seemed to me like she was a prostitute using this to set up dates, and maybe the acronyms were things people who frequented whores would recognize... like UABFC could stand for "Understandably Avoid Bareback, Furnish Condoms" or something, if the whore was unnecessarily verbose. Maybe TJES was "Titty Jobs Extra Surcharge." I knew those guesses would be way off, but still, I had the whiff of whore. And sure enough, when I went on to her detailed profile, her settings said "we'll talk" under 'pay for play.'

What made me decide to go for it was her first message, when I finally read it. "Hiiii. So what cartoons do you like?"

I mean, if it was a whore, surely she'd get right to business, or start with sex talk. Starting with cartoons seemed like the move of a person seeking a genuine connection... a very strange person, judging by everything else, but I was pretty strange too.

So I responded with, "Right now, Family Guy, American Dad, Golan The Insatiable, Gravity Falls, Steven Universe, and Rick and Morty."

"Niice..." She responded after a bit. Two i's in nice, this was a girl who did not rely on autocomplete. "I havn't cn rick and morty and American Dad's dumb but the others are good. I like Star vs evil."

"Yeah, that's a good one too." I had only seen a few episodes of it so far and hadn't really formed an opinion.

"You go to school?"

"No, I'm finished school," I said, and, worried I might be too old for her, I added. "That ok?"

"Ok." Her next message took us out of the casual. "So you like to have sex?"

That seemed like a pretty odd question, and I had a new impression of the mysterious person on the other end of the line... someone who didn't speak very good English. I went back and forth between reading everything with a Russian accent or an Asian one, those seeming the most likely to me. "Yeah," I responded, still not sure if she was actually inviting me for sex right then, or just asking if I, in general, like to have sex, but that response worked either way.

"Okay but not right now. We'll make a time, I'll suck you, you lik me, ok?" An emoji that appeared to be winking suggestively ended the line.

Hard to say no to that deal... assuming she wasn't fundamentally nasty. I wasn't expecting a beauty queen, but I did have some standards. And one thing in particular was a dealbreaker... she had to be a girl. Right now, I couldn't be sure of that. Also... as my mind continued to run through possible scenarios for how this might play out, one that I had danced around with before suddenly became the only one in my mind. Maybe this was just an attempt to lure me somewhere and rob or kill me. Why even bother setting up a meeting, if it was just a scam? "Can I see what you look like?"

"No faces!" A sad emoji went along with this.

"Body then?" I quickly added, "With a note maybe saying Star Rules?" It was the only thing I could think of. "Just enough to make sure you're a girl lol and not some psycho killer."

"Haha," she sent. "1 sec."

It was more like a minute, but then a picture blossomed on my phone. Lying on what seemed to be a huge bed, legs spread, was a girl, or at least the bottom half of one, taken from the POV of the stomach or so... so just her legs and crotch, but more than enough to see she was a girl, considering she was naked. Or mostly naked, she had some white short pants and yellow underwear, but they were down by her knees.

There was no doubts that it was a girl, and I thought she must have waxed because it was bare, so smooth and tight looking, not actually very defined more than a crack with a little bit of a nubbin, but it was a crack that removed all doubt that it was a girl I was talking to, at least, when you included the little torn off scrap of lined paper with the words "Star Rules!" on it and a small drawing of a happy face. Without that, it might have been grabbed off the Internet. If it was a scam, at least I was being scammed by a girl.

The other worry, although I wouldn't have been rude about it, was that she was obese, but no, she looked legitimately tiny, her legs had some muscle on it, and I thought she must have been one of those really short, svelte girls. I don't have a type... I have several types, and that was one of them.

I got a little hard at it, which was perfect timing, because she sent, "Now you."

"Do you want me to write anything?" I joked with her.

"No just a picture, I want to see your...." instead of finishing it, she posted an emoji of an eggplant.

I was more comfortable with that than showing my face anyway, even though I'd never done it before... this was a whole new world for me, and it was kind of exciting, to be honest. So, I whipped it out, snapped a good pic, then sent it.

And then, of course, felt anxious. What if it was too small for her? I'm not tiny, but I'm not huge either. I'm in the average range... maybe on the small side of the average range, when I measured, but I also told myself that I couldn't possibly be at my biggest and hardest while I had a ruler up to my cock. I hoped that as small as she looked, maybe she wouldn't be bothered.

An emoji with hearts in his eyes was my response, followed by "Yum, we ttly need to meet now."

"Now?" I said.

"No not now now." There was a short pause, and before I could reply, a follow-up. "Maybe Monday afternoon?"

"As long as it's after 6," I answered. That gave me enough time to get off work and take a quick shower.

"No I have ballet," she said, flashing a few more emojis, and my eyebrows went up. A ballet dancer working as a whore? Or maybe she meant she went as a spectator. Still, for some reason, the vision of a Russian dancer-wannabe, turning to prostitution to make ends meet in the big city while she pursues her dream, danced through my head. It made sense, actually, ballet dancers were supposed to be tiny little things, and that little glimpse I got of her body did seem to fit in with a dancer's body.

"This weekend, maybe? Like Friday night?"

"No good. Days are eaziest, if I'm not in school. Lunch best." That seemed a little odd. She was 19, probably a college student, but it would make more sense to me that she COULDN'T meet during the days. Unless she was a night student, but then why would lunch be such a big deal?

More pictures form in my head... a girl in a relationship, able to sneak around while her boyfriend or husband is at work, and she's supposed to be at school, but not while he's around. I'd occasionally fapped to cheating girl porn, and it was hot, but I was less interested in the idea in real life. Still... it had been so long, I was willing to make an exception, particularly with a tiny 19-year-old ballet dancer. I had a doctor's appointment on Thursday afternoon, nothing serious, just routine. I'd taken the whole day off because it would have counted as one anyway. I could easily manage a lunchtime meeting that day. Maybe on other days too, but we'd be at the mercy of our apparently conflicting schedules. I suggested Thursday at lunch.

"Ok! It's a date! But I choose the place!"

That seemed fair, even though part of me still suspected I'd be getting a mugging, or worse, I was too enchanted by the prospect of easy, meaningless sex with a hot girl to worry overmuch.

She didn't tell me where right away, although we talked a little over the next few days and I got the impression it was going to be outdoors. It was Wednesday afternoon that she sent me a message saying, "Still wanna?" When I said yes, she sent me a series of pictures, not even a location, but a street sign, followed by a pathway, followed by a large drainage pipe, this last with the caption, "Meet here, 12:15, don't be late."

"What is this, like a scavenger hunt?"

"Kinda," she replied with three winky emojis. I told her I'd be there.

I searched the street, found it on Google Earth, and even saw the pathway on the street view. Investigating further, it looked like a very small wooded ravine, a location that a drainage pipe might make sense, so it doesn't fill with water. I couldn't actually see the pipe on the map, but it made sense that it would be there and I figured I could find it in person.

The out of the way location itself was more evidence for the scam theory, of course... why not meet in a coffee shop, look innocent, and then go to my car for a more secluded location? It made sense that she might be an exhibitionist and got off on doing it outdoors, but I was well aware that the location she chose was also an ideal spot for a robbery/murder. Still... I guess I was thinking with my dick, and it was too excited about the possibility of a little attention that didn't come from my own hand. And it reminded me that too many of the problems in my life came from being too afraid of taking a risk... so this time, I was going to do it, I was going to take a risk have an experience, and hopefully get a good fuck out of the deal.

I got fucked all right.

I showed up early. In the hopes of reinforcing our common connection, maybe give us something to talk about to break the ice, I wore a t-shirt I thought she'd appreciate, a Gravity Falls one I'd got from the Internet, visible under a light jacket I wore for pockets more than warmth, since my pants didn't have any and I needed to carry my phone, money, and keys. And one more thing that wasn't usual for me... in one of the front pockets, I had a knife, just in case I wound up having to defend myself... I might be crazy, but I'm not stupid!

In that ravine, I waited nervously, and for a couple minutes past the appointed time, checking my phone for any update, listening for any signs of people approaching. My heart rate notwithstanding, it was a pretty peaceful location, lots of green, a few muddy paths from different directions that approached the drainage pipe before veering up the side of a hill or around some bushes. There was the distant sound of children playing from a nearby school, but I thought nothing of it.

At least, until I saw some bushes shake, and a little girl appear, walking down one of the paths in my direction.

She had dark hair with bangs and creamy white skin, no freckles or zits, but then, she wasn't even a teenager yet, with no body to speak of. I'd have guessed she was around ten years old. And I didn't look at her long, just looked up, then back down to my phone, pretending to be busy. I did notice she had a phone in her hand as well, and reflected on how unfair it was that kids got them so young when I was in my late teens before I got one. I also wondered briefly why she wasn't at school, but it was the lunch hour, after all.

The only thing her presence did for me was make me more nervous. If this pathway was used by kids, as secluded as it seemed, there was no way I was having sex here... I'd either have to convince my mystery date to come to my car, or abandon the idea entirely.

"Hi," the little girl said to me, with a winning smile.

"Hello," I responded automatically, politely, thinking it was just said in passing.

It wasn't. She had no intention of passing, she came right up to me, said, "Sorry I'm late."


>>
Molestr, continued AnonyMPC 15/10/16(Fri)23:52 No. 23913 ID: a609fb

"Excuse me?" I gave the girl a second look, put my phone in my pocket instinctively. Had she mistaken me for somebody else or something, maybe an uncle who was supposed to take her home from school? Or maybe a drug dealer, although she seemed way too young, and way too healthy, to be involved in drugs.

"I had a hard time getting away. We should get started fast I gotta go back before the bell."

Get started? What was she expecting me to throw down and get in a Pokemon battle or something? "Uh, I think you..." And that's when my world changed forever, because she reached into my pants and went directly for my cock like an expert.

I was wearing sweatpants... the girl I'd talked to, the girl I was far-too-slowly realizing was the girl in front of me now, suggested it as being easier, so all she had to do was pull down my pants and underwear, and my cock was visible, and she took it in her hands, and it stiffened at the unexpected contact, and started to grow. Her eyes just lit up at it and said, "Wow, I thought you were tricking me at first it really grows a lot doesn't it?"

I didn't say anything. I started backing up, automatically, but soon I reached the wall where the drainage pipe was built out of, and from there I couldn't go any further. I was out of options. Or at least, I couldn't think of any at the time. I was hard, she had her hand on my cock, and was leaning forward to suck it in her mouth like a giant meat lollypop.

What could I do? Scream for help? Who'd believe me that a girl like this was sexually assaulting me? Push her away? I might hurt her, and then she might tell the cops I raped her. Or her mother might. It was so rare to see a girl of this age wandering around without a mother or other guardian steps behind, and anyone who stumbled upon this scene certainly would think I was the raper, not the rapee. The fact that I even had a knife on me would make anyone think I was a monster who forced her into this, not that she lured me there under false pretenses.

It didn't feel like rape, one way or the other. The knife never left my pocket and I didn't even touch her... my hands were bracing myself against the wall (and some part of a steep hill) behind me, and the only part of me in contact with her was a contact she initiated. That should make her the one guilty of assault, not that anyone would believe me, but it didn't feel like that either... it felt like a blowjob, and although my cock filled her mouth and even, at times, made her cheek bulge out, she was doing it with enthusiasm, licking, sucking, even making little "Mmmm" sounds that I felt as much as heard, vibrating my cock and keeping it rock hard. At times it sounded like she was almost gagging on it. It was obscene, a too-young girl giving me a blowjob, but obscenely hot. The only thing rape-like was the terror that was flowing through me at the same time, and the sensation that I couldn't move or fight back without risking everything getting a whole lot worse. And the fact that I did not consent, but that mattered less than you'd think... my body seemed to be quite happily consenting for me.

I would never have imagined that I could get hard, much less stay hard, with a girl this young sucking on me, but I did, and I was, and it felt good, felt incredible, maybe even the best blowjob I'd ever had, although I also believed I hadn't quite managed to achieve whatever my fair share of those should have been. Maybe that's why I enjoyed it so much, sheer horniness, sheer deprivation, maybe anybody in my situation would have enjoyed it, not stopped it. I like to tell myself that, now, but I'll never really know... all I can say for sure is that I just let it happen.

In some ways I felt stunned... not surprised, although I certainly was that too, but literally stunned, like I was dazed and unable to react, like I was just an observer in my own body, which I guess I've also heard in descriptions of rape. I can't even really remember the thought processes I had, just a vague sense of the feelings, and most of those were wrapped around the physical stimulation of my penis just as much as this little girl's tongue.

And whether you're expecting a blowjob or not, whether you think it's right or not, there's one consequence to such stimulation, eventually, you have to blow... I remember feeling the pressure build, and trying to decide again whether to push her off or try to warn her but not managing to do either, she looked up at me and her cheeks went a little concave, and then suddenly I was shooting off.

The girl made a sound of surprise, drew back to just the head and her lips and nose twitched every time my dick did, but she didn't break contact, either with her lips or with her hand, which squeezed tightly almost like she was milking me. Towards the end she started to pull off, but I squirted again and she stopped, squinted, one eye bigger than the other, and then waited for another squirt of two, before finally breaking contact and shaking her whole head like I remember reflexively doing whenever I swallowed something awful like cough medicine.

"You look so funny during that, you know?" She gave a quick giggle. "I'm sorry, it was like hilarious you know? You looked like you were so scared." For one second she tried to imitate me, I think, going wide eyed with an open mouth and chin to her chest.

Maybe I still looked like that. I certainly couldn't answer, and she looked again to my cock, which was now dribbling just a little leftover fluid. "Still going, huh?" She'd swallowed most of it, but took a second and wiped off a dribbled from the side of her mouth with one of her knuckles. "Wow, adult guys really do shoot a lot. Do you like get more the older you get? Cause you're my first one that shoots anything at all." Her face made another, sudden revolted twitch, like even the memory of it was powerful enough to taste, and she added, "It doesn't taste very good, but I guess it's better than making a mess everywhere, right?"

"I... I... can't believe you just did that," I said when I found my voice.

She tilted her head to the side, staring at me with a look of utter incomprehension. "What do you mean? That's what we met up for!"

"I wasn't expecting... a little girl!"

"Ha. You didn't know." Her voice had a singsong quality in it, like she was mocking me.

"You said you were 19 in your profile!"

"No, it said one, space, nine-year-old girl." Nine. I'd just been sucked off by a nine-year-old. I'd hoped that maybe I was just misguessing her age, that maybe she was a tiny but precocious teenager, that I could at least potentially justify but... a nine year old? How did I get myself into this? I didn't remember seeing the rogue space in her profile, although later, when I looked, it turned out to be true. "And you had the secret code in your settings! You really shouldn't have joined the game if you weren't going to learn all the secret codes."

"Secret code?"

"You know, you hate typos and like codes. And you didn't freak out at the picture like some guys. Really this is all your fault. If you're going to be one of us you really need to be more careful.... or less picky."

"One of us?" Repeating parts of what she said was about all my brain could do right then.

"The Under Alter Batch Fan Club of course." At least, that's what it sounded like. "You had THAT code in your profile, didn't you?"

I didn't know what it meant, but some still functional analytical part of my brain reminded me that that spelled UABFC. I shook my head dumbly, not sure of anything else today except that this wasn't something in my profile.

"You didn't?" she asked, like she didn't quite believe me. "I could have sworn..." She shook her head like it didn't matter. "Maybe I got you confused with someone else. You mean you really didn't know? About any of this?" I shook my head again, and she went on, talking happily. "Well, that's what we call this club. It's like a game. You put the codes in and, like, hook up and have fun seeing who you get. It's mostly kids my age so far, not many old people yet so they're worth more. Oh my god!" Her voice rose to an excited shriek that made me wince and fear somebody would hear, somebody would come. "I'm the first girl in my school to get a grown-up and I look extra cool if you didn't know. Come on, you gotta join now! You just gotta put UABFC in your profile and then you can meet up with other girls. I'll, like, recommend you to my friends, and you can tell them that Emma Harrington got you in!"

Well, at least now I knew her name. No, I corrected myself, no 'at least.' The only 'at least' in play was at least she didn't know mine. I should have just bolted, ran for my car, got away from here as fast as possible, threw my phone away. This was too fucked up, on a level beyond comprehension. My shell-shocked brain finally put together another sentence. "This is all a... sex game you... AND your friends play?" One slutty little girl... okay, sure, I'm sure that happens, if there's a history of sex abuse or whatever. But she seemed to suggest there was a whole group of kids like this. And she nodded eagerly. What had happened to kids in this generation? And why couldn't it have happened in mine? I should have run, but I just had to know. "How the... hell does this sort of thing get started?" I was going to say fuck, but, it didn't seem right to swear in front of a nine-year-old, even one who'd just swallowed my cum.

"How about I tell you while you're licking me, 'cause we don't have much time."

Licking her? I found myself unconsciously nodding my head, but the part of me that was still sane took over again and I blurted out, "I... I've gotta go."

"Not yet. You have to do me first. I sucked you, and swallowed that gross stuff, so you have to lick me." And her hands dropped to her skirt and pulled it all the way up, revealing that she hadn't had any underwear on, she was completely bare. A nine-year-old girl's pussy. I'd seen it before, but a photograph's framing eliminates context, here in this small wooded ravine near a drainage pipe, I saw the whole picture, this was a little girl, a nine-year-old showing me her pussy and wanting me to lick her. Why couldn't I look away, knowing that?

"I can't," I said, although I can't lie, there was a part of me that wanted to, right then and there. But I couldn't give in to it, at least not so quickly. "I can't."

Her face scrunched up, eyebrows knitting together, a look of mild anger as she repeated, "You have to. That's the rules. Just because you SAY you didn't know about the game doesn't mean you get to break the rules." That was it, it was like I'd just tried to cheat in a game, like I was backing out of a dare in truth or dare. But this wasn't any dare, this was another event that could get me thrown in prison, probably murdered in prison knowing how criminals treat molesters. I shook my head again, and that's when the nine-year-old threatened me. "If you don't, I'll report you."

"What?"

She looked at me with a hard, uncompromising look that seemed capable of cold-blooded murder. "You heard me. If I don't get what I want, you're going to get in so much trouble..."

When I was in college, a couple guy acquaintances and I were playing that classic game, "Would You Rather?" One of the questions, late in the night, was, "Would you rather have sex with a little girl who never tells on you, or not have sex with a little girl who tells everyone you raped her?" We teased the guy for it being a pedo question, but he insisted it was serious, that the only reason it makes sense because he was assuming that we didn't want to have sex with a little girl. The choice was, doing something you think is wrong but being able to keep it secret, or keeping to your morals but having everyone not believe you did. Opinions differed (and I always suspected that the guy who asked the question really was pedo, but now I know how close the line can be), but I came down on the side of keeping to the morals, even if the world thought I was a monster.

It turns out, I am totally full of shit, because faced with that choice for real, I did the only thing that made sense to me in that moment.

I got on my hands and knees, like a dog, in front of this nine-year-old girl and prepared to probe her immature pussy with my tongue.

It only seemed logical, and even the sane part of me had to agree with my reasoning. I had to get out of this situation with the least risk... if we got caught, I'd be dead, and if she reported me to the cops, I'd be dead. But while we only might get caught if I did, she told me she would tell if I didn't, and might beats would, so I knelt first, then leaned forward, and needed to support myself on my hands and knees, as my face got closer and closer to a preteen pussy.

Other than the size, and the fact that it was completely bare, without even some leftover stubble or bumps from hair removal, it still looked like any other pussy, and that made the act easier. I leaned in, stuck my tongue out, and finally, made contact with a lip. She let out a little, stuttering chuckle and then gyrated her hips slightly and shoved herself even more firmly towards my mouth.

It tasted good. This surprised me. I remember reading a post somewhere, reminding people that fantasized about little girls of the "truth," and one of them was that kids don't taste good because they don't give off sex pheromones, and because they're usually not old enough that cleanliness is a priority, so mostly you'd be tasting pee and dirty sweat and possibly somebody who hadn't bathed in days.

This wasn't anything like that. I don't know about whether she had sex pheromones, but the flavor wasn't bad... it was tasty in fact, even... sweet, and reminded me of tropical drinks. It was also wetter than I thought it would be, a slimy consistency that seemed to coat my tongue and chin. That was another thing I remembered from that list, that they didn't produce lube before puberty and so it would be painfully dry.

Emma wasn't dry, she had a little lubrication, and even beyond that, her skin was so intoxicatingly soft whether I felt it as my tongue glided over her most intimate parts, or with my nose or the side of my face brushing up against parts of her mound or legs. Pretty soon she was just slightly lubed, she was downright wet, but I'm pretty sure that was mostly my own saliva. Once I'd tasted it and found it to be good, and she obviously enjoyed it, soulless logic struck once again, telling me that the best way to get out of this quickly would be to get her off as quickly as possible, to lick her like an expert.

I was no expert, but I was willing to fake it, and just tried to treat it like an adult pussy, licking around, sometimes my tongue worming all the way into the hole, and it didn't seem to find much resistance. And I heard her squeal and giggle with joy.

That wasn't the only thing, I heard, though. Like the girl I lost my virginity to, Emma talked a lot while she was getting off. My girlfriend back then, she would talk about the bands she liked or school gossip, like the sex was just something that you sometimes did while talking. Of course, she was a chatterbox outside of sex too, so I didn't think too much of it. I sometimes thought that was the real reason she never blew me, because she couldn't bear to have something keep her from talking.

Emma reminded me then of Jane, my first, more than a little. They didn't look much alike, but the way they talked was the same, fast and high pitched and excited, and, in the case of sex, punctuated by the occasional grunt or squeal of enjoyment. Back in those days I made it a game, a mission to get her to cum just to interrupt her monologue, break her train of thought, and that old instinct came back to me.

Aside from the age, there was a difference... Jane talked about such trivial stuff that I never paid much attention, but Emma, she was saying something that actually interested me, telling a story that I wanted to know, the origin and details about this preteen sex game I'd somehow stumbled upon, and so I was intensely focused, not just on what I was doing but on what she said as well.

"Oh, right, I promised I'd tell you about the club," she started, without any prompting. "So, like, this girl Dana's dad always uses this app to hook up with girls when she's at his place on the weekends? Mmm. No, wait, I guess really it started with this girl who's like a cousin of my friend Jan? She found this game on her brother's computer and there was a girl on it that looked, like, exactly like her, with like red hair and glasses and everything? Anyway she started playing it and got Jan playing it too because Jan looked a little like another girl in the game, and they thought maybe someone they knew made it but they found out later it was from, like, some other country entirely but they were still playing the game and there were sex scenes which were really funny and if you did really good the girls did stuff too, and they were talking about how much fun it was even though nobody liked kids doing it. Anyway, Jan had this sleepover at her place and showed us the game and where to get it and everything and we should try doing sex stuff and it was fun but there were, like, no boys at the sleepover and we wanted boys! Then Dana talked about her dad using this app and how he met these girls and never talked about it again and... ooh, do it that way again." I obliged, rubbing my nose up against her clit while I sent my tongue into another deep dive, and all the while I was picturing these girls experimenting each other and starting to crave cock. Emma moaned softly and pulled my head into her, and let out a breath and said, "Okay where was I? Oh yeah, we came up with a game where everyone would, like, find one boy and get them signed up and nobody would know who was on it and nobody showed faces and if the site matched you up with someone using the codes and you liked each other on the app you met and did sex stuff, even if you got surprised and got someone you didn't even like in school, you had to. Sometimes that was even better. Anyway, mostly we do it in school, sneaking in, like, bathrooms and stuff but it's fun and exciting and... keep going... faster... and now there's people in other schools and older kids and now it's even more exciting when I hook up with people I don't even know... oh... oh..... ohhhhhhh." Her legs started completely twitching then, and I thought she was about to fall over, so I wrapped my arms around her legs and held her tight. Finally, she stilled, and pulled away, looking down at my face with shining eyes and a beautiful smile lighting up her flushed cheeks. "Wow you're really good, no wonder everyone wants to get an older guy. Everyone's going to be so jealous."

For just a moment I was proud, even happy, as ridiculous as that thought was, that I had done a good job at giving a nine-year-old girl an orgasm. I suppose, when you think about it logically, an orgasm was better than that if I'd licked a nine-year-old's pussy and only made her uncomfortable.

Just then, I heard a noise, a rustle of branches, that could have been the wind, but I was too keyed up to take that for granted and leaned over to the side... where I saw another little girl. She had blonde hair and large glasses and wore a sort of frumpy rainbow striped top over purple bottoms made of some stretchy fabric. "Oh shit, oh shit..." I said, struggling to get to my feet.


>>
Molestr, conclusion AnonyMPC 15/10/17(Sat)04:20 No. 23915 ID: a609fb

Emma looked over at the same time, startled but her body relaxed instantly. "Don't worry. That's just Phoebe," she said, and then turned to her classmate. "You're supposed to be watching the hole!" Just as a part of me thought she was not in the best position to do that, she explained, "She's my lookout."

"Lookout?" I was still ready to bolt but... my pants were still down, and my cock was somehow hard again. And when I looked back to Phoebe, I realized that this little girl was also staring at my cock... and more excitingly, she was rubbing the crotch of her dark purple stretchy pants. Were all girls this sex-crazed at this age?

"Yeah, lookout. You know, to make nobody's coming? And that there isn't, like, a teacher near the hole in the fence?"

"So... she's part of this... game, too?" Oh god, my penis was bouncing at the thought of another girl. And even as it was, a part of me was screaming, "That's it, my life is over, I'm officially dead now." That seed was growing.

"No," she said. "Phoebe's too chicken to actually join the app." That was said with a raised voice in a look in her direction, like she was trying to shame her for it, and then she asked her friend, "Do you want to see, though?"

Phoebe took her hand off her crotch, letting her shirt fall down over it, and then, slinking forward in a slouch, moved a few steps closer along the path. I couldn't see for sure, but I felt like her eyes were still on my cock, like she was coming to do just what Emma had, grab it. And right then, it wanted to be grabbed. Before she got close enough, though, she suddenly stopped, leaned into the side of Emma's face and whispered into her ear.

"Oh yeah, I forgot! Thanks!" Emma did grab me by the cock, but almost like she was trying to keep me from bolting. It worked. Then, with her other hand, she fished around to her backpack. It took a few seconds, but she snagged the smartphone that was in a side pocket and woke it up... it was apparently unlocked.

I actually didn't realize what she was doing at first because my eyes were drawn to Phoebe, who was now staring up to me in the eyes with what looked like awe. Then, suddenly, I heard Emma speaking. "Hey, everybody, check this out!" And, holding her hand out at a short distance to capture the moment, her smiling mouth opened wide and she bent forward to take as much of it past her lips as she could.

"Oh, fuck!" I said, sucking in my breath as she sucked my cock. "You're filming this?"

"Well, not anymore," she said, moments later, when she pulled off. "It was just a vine. Six seconds. They might not believe me otherwise." She grinned at me, and playfully pressed at the side of my dick with one finger, watching it jiggle as it swung back into place. "Trust me all the other girls are going to want to hook up with you after this." She glanced at her phone screen again, and it must have been the time she was interested in, because she said, "Six minutes and I have to be back. I don't want to suck you again but if you want we can try and do sex?"

Phoebe and Emma both looked up at me expectantly, and, it seemed, my dick did as well. And another small part of my brain snapped, as I realized, there was no way I was getting out of this. There's that old saying, three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead. Well, me, Emma, and Phoebe made three, and I certainly wasn't going to kill them to keep this secret. I didn't have a violent bone in my body... of course, I would have said the same thing about pedophilic bones before my bone was in a little girl's body. But in all my panicked thoughts, the thought of killing them didn't even crop up except to be immediately discounted. Not that it would have done any good... the saying could probably use some updating for the modern times anyway: Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead, and it wasn't already on Vine.

So if I was dead anyway, and they wanted it, and apparently my dick didn't care about their age, why not go for it? "Okay, but only if you're sure. I don't want to hurt you."

Emma smiled. Well, they both did, but Emma was the one who I was going to be having sex with. She put her phone back in her backpack, and then reached in to pull out a small plastic Tupperware container filled with some cream-like substance. "That's what this is for."

"What's that?"

"Coconut oil," she said. "You licked all of it away before, so we'll need more." So THAT was that taste. Phoebe nudged her with an elbow. "Oh, right, that one was free but for any more, it's ten dollars a glob. And I won't do it with less than two globs.

"You're selling sex, too?" I asked incredulously. Kids these days.

Her face scrunched up offended. "No!" she insisted. "That wouldn't be right. But it's no good without oil, and did YOU bring any?"

I shook my head, and then said, "Fine, whatever." My throbbing dick was ready to get me to agree to anything. Emma held out her hand, and I fished in my jacket pocket some money. I left my wallet hidden in my car, figuring that if I was going to be ambushed and murdered then they wouldn't get much out of me, but I did take bring about a hundred dollars, just in case the girl I was meeting was going to charge, and I wanted to pay. I fished out a crumpled twenty and laid it in her hand. She handed it to Phoebe, and then opened up the tupperware container and scooped out one glob. "One for you, one for me." She turned to Phoebe and said, "Do you want to help him rub his on?"

Phoebe opened her mouth, stared up and me, right in the eyes for a second, and then shook her head suddenly, blushing. Emma rolled her eyes. "Fine, chicken. Then you should go back and watch the fence." She held the container to me as Phoebe started to shuffle off, her purple-clad butt wiggling as she did. "She's really shy," Emma whispered. "But I think she's going to join soon. Maybe you'll be her first boy hookup!" Did that mean she had a girl hookup already? And did I even want to be this shy little girl's first time?

Before I could contemplate this, Emma turned her back to me, then bent over. "In my butt, okay? Cause we don't have much time." I wasn't sure what time had to do with it, but if a girl says to do her butt, you do her butt, even if she's nine. Through her own legs she looked at me, upside down, when I nodded, and reminded me, "Use the oil."

She began rubbing her own ass with the oil, paying special attention to the pink puckered opening of her little rectum. I leaned forward to the container, grabbed a glob of the lube, and began sliding it along my shaft. It seemed like a gel at first, but with just body heat and a little friction, it soon melted into a smooth lube with the very faint scent of coconut. "Just go slow at first," she said.

That was already my instinct. As I closed the distance between us, she just seemed so tiny I was afraid that I might break her. A part of me felt godlike, both like I was one of those improbably huge pornstars in the movies approaching a tiny wisp of a girl, but also for the sheer responsibility over somebody less powerful. I realized then why she chose her ass, because it was much easier to hurt something in her vagina, at least if it's that small, if you don't go really slow. The ass might be the same way, but at least it stretches faster. Of course, it might still hurt her, and I resolved that if she seemed to be in any pain at all, I'd back out. But she'd already done so much... and if her stories were true, it's possible she'd had more sex than I have, albeit with much smaller dicks... little boys her own age. I might be envious of them, but at least I wouldn't feel insecure. That appealed to me, too, that I'd be the biggest she'd ever had. My dick shuddered with anticipation as it made contact, nestled between her cheeks, seeking a hole that didn't seem as proportionally small as the rest of her. In fact, that opening itself seemed the same size as it was on adults, and seemed to pucker at the head of my cock, and then relax, like it was something she had practiced. Maybe she had.

My hands closed around her butt cheeks and I pushed forward slowly, super-conscious of her breath, which became staggered, unsteady, but no cries of pain... more like she was lifting something heavy. And it was tight, but also slick enough that it wasn't painful.

Emma let her breath out when the head popped in, and looked over at me, squinting with one eye and her mouth was open, but her face relaxed as she realized that that was the thickest part. So I kept pushing, and she pushed back. She bent over and supported herself with one hand, then reached back with her other and rubbed her own pussy like a porn star. Owing to our height differences, I had to crouch and as for her, she was standing on the tips of her toes. The position looked precarious, but her legs were taut and didn't seem to be wavering at all, and I remembered she said she took ballet. And, of course, she was talking again, her motormouth going and making me sure she wasn't in any pain. "Wow, this is the biggest thing I've had in my butt. It feels weird, you know? But it's not bad at all with the oil. When I heard people did this I used to think it was, like, so stupid, like, why there? But the boys always wanted to do it and it wasn't bad. And it's much better when it's bigger, you know?" A nine-year-old size queen. Great. "Go ahead and go faster now. It's more fun when you just pound away, don't you think?" A nine-year-old size queen who likes rough sex. Is the innocence of childhood just a comforting myth we tell ourselves?

If the girl's that into it, I told myself, how could it be wrong? And in the most primal part of me it didn't feel wrong, it felt incredibly right, like nature finally taking its course after being thwarted for so long. One I reached that point I kept going like a man possessed, just savoring that glorious feel of letting myself go, conscious of her squeezing down on me with her ass as I slid in and out of her, gaining speed until I was risking toppling her over with every thrust, and all the while, building up towards a second climax...

It never happened, at least not inside her.

Emma was still rambling, now talking about school. "You know we've got science next period? I... uhhh... wonder what that... goo you shot in my mouth looks like, like, under a microscope. Unnh... If you leave some in my butt maybe I can see. Oohhhh, but probably not, we're not doing microscopes today, we're building electrical circuits. Hey, I wonder if we count as a circuit..."

Just then, Phoebe stumbled out from behind a bush where she was still watching us, but also watching the phone in her hand, and she spoke, audibly for the first time. Even though it was still in a whisper, it was a loud whisper. "Ems, it's time to go, now!"

"Already?" Emma said, and Phoebe nodded emphatically. I'd slowed down, but it was Emma who pulled off, marching forward, still bent over, until I slipped out of her with what I'd swear was an audible pop. "Sorry," she said, straightening up. "If we're not in when the bell rings we'll get in trouble." She pulled her skirt down to cover herself, and Phoebe rushed beside her, bending down and opening up a pair of pink panties for Emma to step into. "It was fun, though, I'll see you on the app." With one final wave, they turned away and started walking up around the corner they'd first appeared.

I was stunned at the sudden change, and had returned the wave half-heartedly and so slow I'm not even sure they saw, but my dick was hanging out and feeling abandoned. The last I saw, or heard of them, was Emma asking, "Does my breath smell bad?" I couldn't hear her friend's response.

Then, I was alone, and except for the slowly drying oil on my cock, it was almost like it had never happened, like I had maybe some mugger did knock me out and it was all a dream. Maybe, I started to believe, if I got out of there, I could pretend it never actually did happen.

First I put my cock back in, and then I started to go up the path that I came down, when I heard the distant ringing of a schoolbell, and the nature of the ambient sound changed in a hard-to-define way, as all the excited kids were returning to class.

Once again, curiosity won out over intelligence, and I started up the path that Emma and Phoebe had gone down. Around the bend of a few bushes, it turned into a sharp incline, which ended at a wire fence, which had a section that bent awkwardly and could be pulled aside allowing entry, and a tree on the other side which blocked the sight lines. No doubt it was something the students all knew about, maybe even some of the teachers as well. Maybe it was even a frequent spot for these types of hookups among the students.

I had to go, though, my curiosity was satisfied, and I slid down the hill and returned up my own path, found my car, and got inside. First priority was getting as far away from there as quickly as possible, although I didn't take the most direct route. Instead, I found myself driving past her elementary school, named for one of our earliest presidents, and hopelessly glancing in the window wondering if I could see her. But I didn't linger, because my second priority was to find an out of the way place to finish myself off, because my boner refused to go down while I was still thinking about Emma and even her friend Phoebe. I had to cum soon or I'd get serious blue balls. That was accomplished in a parking garage and into a wad of tissues.

The rest of the afternoon I practically sleepwalked through. I made it to my doctor's appointment, and I had to laugh a little when he said I seemed a lot less stressed than I had in previous check-ups, and that whatever I was doing I should "keep it up." Sure, doc, I'll keep assfucking grade schoolers. Maybe it's the next great miracle cure. Before I left, he did give me a little grief about the t-shirt I wore, saying his daughter, who was only ten, watched that show... and then asked, "But aren't you a little too old for it?" I just shrugged, unwilling to say anything for fear that if I did, I might blurt out that, apparently, I'm not even too old for his daughter. At least if she's on the app. Maybe she was. Maybe I'd find out, if I wanted to walk that dark path and add the code Emma told me to my profile.

The thought, or how seriously I considered it, terrified me on the way home from the appointment. Once I got inside to the comforting familiarity of my normal life, I curled up into a ball on my bed, turned on some mindless television, and tried to come to grips with what I had done. It didn't matter that she seemed to want it, she was a little girl, and I was convinced that it was wrong. And worse than the act itself, if that was even possible, was how much I had enjoyed it, how often my idle thoughts were to doing it again, particularly when a young girl appeared on television.

I never thought of myself as a sexual deviant. The weirdest I got was masturbating to cartoon porn, who were occasionally exceptionally mature teenagers, but never kids. Now, over the course of one day, I had become a Molester with a capital M. Or maybe a Molestr, considering the Internet's tendency to drop letters, and it was the Internet that dragged me into this new role. Of course, the Internet was around since I was a kid... maybe it was just smartphones were to blame, and the growing trend of parents giving their kids a private, handheld tool that would let them explore any crazy idea they might come up with, with no supervision, before they could forget it and come up with something else. Like all new technology, kids already knew all the ways to use these devices, and like all new technology, one of their big uses was to make casual sex easier. It probably wasn't the first case where the two trends converged, but it was the most dramatic in my life, and once I'd seen it, I couldn't unsee it.

After a late dinner of reheated leftovers, I finally broke and turned my phone back on. I had been avoiding it like a recovering alcoholic avoids a bottle, too afraid that even looking at it I might fall off the wagon. And sure enough, even though I made a promise to myself, that I'd just check my normal social media accounts for any messages, I relapsed almost immediately. The moment I found there was no new messages in my normal life, my finger immediately strayed to the new hookup app, where I had two notifications. One was from Emma who said she had a lot of fun. The other was from the app itself, telling me that someone had recommended me to several of their friends, and that I'd be more likely to match with them.

I went to my apartment window and looked out at the darkened street below, holding that phone in my hand. I considered throwing it out the window, letting gravity smash it to pieces. I considered throwing myself out the window, ending it all.

But not seriously.

Because what would be the point? Even if I killed myself, this still would be going on, these little kids would be doing random sexual hookups, sometimes with adults, because they choose to, they find it fun. Emma practically extorted me into licking her... it would be naive to think my death would protect anybody.

Yet, there would be no saving myself, either, even if I completely demolished the phone. The situation was just too precarious and nobody involved seemed to be too careful. And what could you expect? They were grade schoolers. Sooner or later, this whole thing would fall apart, one of the girls would get caught, maybe pregnant, someone would tell, records would be subpoenaed, and no piece of data gets deleted when it might, someday, have value to someone. And probably someday soon, Emma's hookups would be investigated, and, even if I deleted the app from my phone, whatever remained of my profile would be traced back to my phone, and the police would note that the GPS placed that phone in my home, so I couldn't argue somebody stole it, and everyone would know what I had done. If Emma or Phoebe didn't tell on me right away, which was also a possibility. Kids weren't famous for being able to keep secrets.

Realizing both of these things, I knew then why the doctor said I was less stressed even though I'd just come out of the most fucked up situation I'd ever imagined. It had confused me at first, but my body must have already known... it just took my brain a while to catch up, to realize the truth of that fleeting thought I had when I decided to ass fuck Emma. Why be stressed if you absolutely know your life is over? Sometime soon, I was going to jail. And accepting that, a sense of calm came of me, the calm of the already-condemned man.

It simplified things tremendously. There were really only two choices. I could delete the app here, try to enjoy my life, as it was before, for as long as possible, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, but knowing that I only slipped the once. Or I could sample these new pleasures that had damned me for as long as I was free to, try my best to make my eventual imprisonment, or death at the hands of some vigilante, a price worth paying.

I wanted to be the type of guy who did right, even in bad circumstance, but it was a harder choice than I'd imagined. Because, to be honest, I hadn't been enjoying my life much before. It was an empty, mundane experience, made more dull by the contrast to what had happened that day. And knowing how these girls were acting, that they were seeking out these hookups, it was easier and easier to believe that I wasn't hurting them any more than they were hurting themselves without me, and more, I could play with the thought that I might even be helping them, by being there, giving them only what they were ready for and trying to make them enjoy it as much as possible... after all, if I wasn't meeting them, some other guy would, and he might be violent, or even be the kind of guy to ensure this kind of secret is kept with everyone else dead.

I knew that I was probably a weak rationalization, that really I wanted to experience this thrill again, like a new addict coming down of his first big high, but there was truth to the rationalization anyway. I wouldn't hurt them. And the thought of, maybe, being somebody like shy little Phoebe's first time, making sure she felt safe and loved and experience her first taste of orgasmic bliss, gasping adorably, maybe watching her covering her mouth to keep from shouting... it made not just my groin swell, but my heart as well.

The day's experience had changed me, fundamentally, and I just had to choose whether to fight the change or go with it.

To make my decision, I looked down at the phone, at my potential matches. Some were from Emma's recommendations, some were from the app's regular matching feature. It didn't obviously say which was which. But I flipped past anyone with a picture, and began reading the ones that didn't. A part of me was searching for Phoebe, but I realized I probably wouldn't know her if I did, I'd just have to rely on luck. Finally, my eyes widened as I hit on one. "2 9-year-old twins like fun 2gether." Definitely not 29, two space nine. And they had the words UABFC in there, too. It wasn't Phoebe... but it was tempting. I had always wanted a threesome. And, to be fair, together, their age DID add up to 18.

My finger slammed down on the little heart symbol. Choice made. After that, I went to edit my profile, added UABFC to my own, to better my chances of getting a match.

Then I moved on and searched for others, selecting anyone who caught my eye, free from my former pickiness, except perhaps in one category. I wasn't expecting an answer right away. It was, after all, after dark on a school night.

For all the best girls, it was past their bedtimes.

The End

Moralistic Disclaimer For Those Who Have Trouble Separating Fantasy From Reality: This story is 100% fantasy. The app described here doesn't exist, nor does anything like the game, at least to the best of my knowledge. If it did, it would be a horrible mistake on both a practical and moral level, to join in. The fact that a young girl seems to initiate a sex act doesn't make going for it okay. The rationalizations the main character makes are only to service the fantasy, not to excuse a similar situation in reality. I hope you enjoyed the story. But in reality, if an underage girl tries to force a blowjob on you, just say no.


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Bkil 15/10/17(Sat)22:11 No. 23917 ID: 4d43c5

Another very nice story AnonyMPC.


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Anonymous 15/10/19(Mon)01:17 No. 23918 ID: 15ea79

I smiled at the unteralterbach reference, enjoyed the story a lot, only wish there was more. Regardless, nice work as always and keep it up.


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Anonymous 15/10/20(Tue)02:27 No. 23919 ID: 7e7716

Are you going to be putting this up on ASSTR?


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Anonymous 15/10/20(Tue)19:33 No. 23920 ID: b54382

I'm not a huge fan of this since it's rather light on story, but on the other hand anything involving a UAB + AnonyMPC crossover is welcome by default. The girls from UAB, with their cleverness in pursuit of pleasure, remind me of Erin from MPC.

The coolest thing would be if Anne Frank reciprocates with some AnonyMPC references in UAB 2. I wonder if he/she is familiar with your stories. They seem like something he/she would enjoy.


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Shadow 15/10/22(Thu)23:28 No. 23921 ID: d51017

Very nice work MPC. Always a pleasure to read your stories.


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Anonymous 15/10/27(Tue)14:59 No. 23928 ID: 91b369

Very much enjoyed it. Thanks AnonyMPC. Don't beat yourself up about the quality, a story doesn't have to be perfect, just engaging enough to read. I'm sure some my favourite stories by you wouldn't be considered your best by you or your fanbase. Yet I still found something in them that made them special and you'll never know the next thing in a piece that I find special, all you can do is let us read for ourselves, and maybe we'll let you know ;). I know at least one person who loved your nod to UAB and it even introduced me to the game.


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AnonyMPC 15/11/04(Wed)00:21 No. 23945 ID: ac9150

>>23919
It was already there when you asked this. But yes. :)

>>23920
I doubt it. I'm on pixiv, following Fuchur's posts there, and have commented on a number of them and I've never gotten a "hey I know you!" response, or a reverse-follow, like I have with a couple other artists. Not that I wouldn't be thrilled if there were references in a UAB2 or anything else the team was involved in, I just keep my expectations realistic.

>>23921
>>23918
>>23917
>>23928
Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it.


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Anonymous 15/11/10(Tue)22:31 No. 23979 ID: dbd5ce

Three thumbs up. Great work. Looking forward to your next installment.


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Anonymous 18/03/04(Sun)06:15 No. 25425 ID: 738b66

Can we get a status update, please?


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Anonymous 18/03/04(Sun)09:28 No. 25426 ID: d5f010

>>25425
Molestr 2 has been written & is in the stage of editing and final drafting now that Magic Marker 2 has been completed and posted. I would guess sometime in a month if we are lucky or 3 months if not lucky


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Anonymous 18/03/04(Sun)20:13 No. 25427 ID: 93166e

>>25426
Can't wait for little Phoebe being taught to be as good as Emma :-)


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Anonymous 18/05/13(Sun)19:39 No. 25541 ID: 7a18a6

Is there any place to help proofread like a writestream?


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Anonymous 18/05/16(Wed)07:41 No. 25546 ID: 8623c8

>>25426
Unfortunately,it look like we ll have to wait 3 months



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