Another Touching Story

I started molesting little girls when I was just a boy. Not a little boy, but most of my friends were still in that “Ew, girls” cooties phaze.

I don’t remember how I got lucky with my first one, but we wound up pissing together. She had to squat down, while I stood up, and that’s how I saw my first pussy. She stood up, and got a tissue out to wipe, but I just zipped up when I was done.

It wasn’t about sex, but my anatomical curiosity turned into an obsession. I didn’t get to touch it, which I regretted, but I saw the way her soft damp lips squished, then they were dry after she pulled the wadded up tissue out.

Then, she pulled up her pants, and we went our separate ways. I found it a lot easier to talk to little girls, even though I was more interested in the ones my age. I guess about 4th grade, I started to notice the ones that were changing shape, and of course the older ones even started having little boobettes on up to 6th grade.

It was easier to find the younger ones that were playing alone in the schoolyard. “What you playing?” was my best line, and since they had no one else to play with, especially the ones with dolls. So, I could ask her name “Barbie.”

“I’m Chester,” the molester. If I’m gonna change the names, I might as well pick a clever one. “What’s your name?”

“Nova?” or whatever. That ment we weren’t strangers, and I could think about how I could talk them into going off to play with me alone, where I could get their panties down…

I sat through all the same assemblies, and watched the videos they showed us in class, but I guess “Stranger” ment a strange man. Hanging out of his car, “I lost my puppy, have you seen her?” At least it was always a man showing them the usual tricks they tried to play on you, to get them in their car.

I didn’t have one, but I started buying them sodas at school. I saved my lunch money, and skipped lunch to buy them drinks in the schoolyard. So, they had to go pee, and I could show them my favorite spot. Just outside the fence, and around it where there were usually some bushes, or uncut grass in the corner.

Sometimes, they cut the grass on the outside of the fence, and the bushes lost their leaves in the fall. The boys used that spot to take a leak, so we didn’t have to go all the way in to use the restrooms, and I showed the girls I could get to follow me.

I had a hankie, my grandmother left to my mother, but she just left it tucked away in the drawer with sewing scissors, thimbles, and stuff like that. It had her initials embroidered in the corner, and lace trim around the edges. So, I knew that it was the sort of thing a little girl might like.

Just like I knew that little girls had to wipe after they pissed, and most of them didn’t have a tissue in their pocket, just in case they got a sniffle.

Then, I started mowing lawns, trimming bushes, raking leaves, and shoveling snow to make some extra money. I spent it all on girls, but after school, I found some that were really into shopping. Window shopping when they didn’t have any money, but I saved up.

One of the girls had a little viewmaster she could look through, and turn the disk to look at animals. In 3D, since the pictures were stereoscopic, but she had one that was full of birds. So, when I asked her “What you doing?”

She said “Bird watching,” and I pretended to look up in the trees. Shading my eyes with 1 hand like a salute.

“I don’t see any birds,” so she could tell me they’re in here, silly.

I led her off to the strip-mall, where they had a Salvation Army, among other stores. A thrift store, so I could buy her clothes she liked, and let her pick them out to play Dressup. I played Photographer, so she could play fashion, posing, and trying to walk like a model.

Even in flats, she couldn’t walk the walk, but it was just an excuse to see her in her underwear. When she pulled a skirt off, with an elastic waistband, I stuck my fingers in her panties to pull them up. And rub her pubeless mons with the backs of my fingers, even though they didn’t slip down with the skirt.

She pulled them up in the back, and pinched the crotch to pull them out of her “Front butt.” It rode up around her fat little pussy, and a little crease folded in up the middle, but then she picked up another dress to put it on.

When she stood up, she asked “What’s that?” and pointed right at my boner.

Well, it was pointing at her, so I said “It’s not polite to point,” and rubbed it up in my underwear.

“Sorry,” but I kept rubbing while she was changing, and I had to sit down when I rubbed it off, with my sensitive tip exposed in my underwear.

“Uh, huh!” I tried to hold my breath, but then I grunted when I let it out, and sighed.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just got a little dizzy, so I had to sit down. Well, see you later?”

“I didn’t even try on all my new clothes!” and she didn’t thank me for them, but that was the first time I got off in front of one of them. It wasn’t the last, and I was still having dry orgasms, but I didn’t start ejaculating until middle school.

That cut me off for a while, because I couldn’t hang around the school yard after I graduated. Again, I was attracted to the 11, 12, and 13 year olds around me, but I didn’t know how to talk to them. I tried to for years, but they were too mature, and wary of every pickup line I could think of. “What you playing?” and “You want to play dressup?” just wasn’t going to cut it any more.

So, I went back home, and jerked off to the polaroids I managed to take, playing dressup, and fashion show. Child porn, but unfortunately, I couldn’t take any of them naked. They heard the camera, which was really loud when they were still changing in their underpants.

“Hey!” they covered up, “I wasn’t ready, you have to wait for me to put it on.” So, I tore pages out of the Sears and J.C. Penny catalogs, trying to talk them into playing Underwear model. I jacked off to those too, because they had bras, and I could close my eyes to imagine them taking those off.

Fairly normal spank material, but I didn’t have to imagine what they might look like with their panties down. I remembered them, but bald, pudgy with baby fat, as soft, and smooth as only little girl’s skin really is. Also, my favorite cum-rag to rub off in was grandma’s old hankie, because that’s what I used to wipe their damp pissies when I could talk them into squatting in the corner, just outside the school fence.

I’m going to have to skip past the awkward early teenage years, because they were fairly typical, except I had child porn, and the hanky I used to molest them with to masturbate to. Eventually, we got over it, the girls looking over, and giggling, so I could walk over, and talk to them.

My first girlfriend was a freshman, while I was a senior, but she remembered me from when I was a 6th grader. So, she must have been in second grade when I molested her. I didn’t have to talk her into playing “Dressup,” she remembered me being the first boy she saw pissing, and my little pecker getting hard, and the only one she’d ever seen with a foreskin. She liked that, and even me touching her with the hankie.

I still had it, but she had pubic hairs, so I had to ask her to shave them off. Then, she had razor rash on her pubeless mons, and she cut herself shaving, so she stopped above the legs, and it grew out to stubble.

It got to the point that I couldn’t close my eyes, and remember her as a child. I touched her, and I could feel that she wasn’t a little girl any more. She had breasts to play with, and that helped me get it up. She became a pretty good cock-sucker, and that lasted a little while longer, until my impotence got in the way, and we started fighting.

It pissed me off, and I started hating her for changing, growing up, and that’s when I knew I was a complete and total child molester. Not a pedophile, those actually like children, and delusionally believe they love them. They’re child molesters too, but they want a relationship, and go to the trouble to groom them.

I just want to molest them, maybe masturbate with them, but I can wait until they’re gone. Just close my eyes, and remember all the girls I touched, but I don’t want to raise them. The problem is that they don’t stay little forever, and I can’t stand to see them grow up. Okay, I can’t stand to feel them grow pubes, especially. It just reminds me how soft, smooth, and hairless they used to be, and it’s a turn-off.

So, I just have to find another one, but it’s not easy, because they don’t get left alone very often. Even if they don’t know any better, their parents, teachers, and other adults around them have their eyes out for grown men, hanging around, and talking them. Trying to lure them away, alone someplace private where we can molest them. Rape them, and kill them so they can’t tell, but I’m not that type of monster.

I’m just a child molester, but it got harder, and harder once I started looking like one.

;

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