Feature Writer: Horny Mommy /
Feature Title: Pedo Recruitment Agency /
Story Codes: Pedo, /
Author’s Notes: My dearest friends and fellow writers, if you have made it this far, I hope it was because you enjoyed it. So I now propose an experiment in creative writing. I ask each one of you to write a sequel for this tale. It could be “Tales from the Pedophile Recruitment Agency” telling the stories of other little girls, boys or entire families that sought their help, it could be some insight on Christina’s relationship with Mr.Harddick, like “How did she loose her cherry” or even, if you want to get political about this, how were the hard years of campaigning for children’s sexual rights. I just ask one thing of you all who wish to take part in this experiment: Please, name your story PRA (Standing for Pedophile Recruitment Agency) and then add the title of your tale, so it is easier to find all of them group under the same initial when we look for the series in the future. Have fun!
Pedo Recruitment Agency
Today was a good day for pedophiles everywhere. After years of fighting for the right to express our love, the Senate had finally lifted all sanctions on acts of love between children and adults, incest practices and the creation of erotic material regarding our particular interest. I shed a tear of joy, with Daddy, my now husband, sitting next to me on the couch. Our youngest, Marina, just four years old, was sitting across his lap, her chubby face resting on his chest. She was almost dozing off and would be soon put to bed. His erect cock was nestling between her bum cheeks. Alisha, our 6 year old, was licking his shaft and balls kneeling between his legs. Daddy threw one of his arm around me and gently squeezed us all together.
“You did it baby girl. It was all because of you.”
I could see in his voice he was so proud and touched. It wasn’t long ago that our family could have been deemed sick and perverted and that our love could have sent us to jail and destroyed our girls’ lives. But today we finally felt safe.
My journey started when I was 4 years old. My real father left me and my mom, and he didn’t care much about us, except for the check he sent every month through a lawyer. He didn’t really bother coming to see me or call me much either. We hardly heard from him. As my mom worked full time, I was often left under the care of baby sitters, which changed often.
When I was about six years old, my babysitter at the time was a really sloppy one. She would spend most of her time on the phone or on her laptop, and she often forgot to feed me properly. On one particular day, my mom called and said she would be late and told her to order pizza for dinner. Since my mom had not left any money, she instructed Maggie to ask our neighbor, Mr. Harddick. Maggie was too lazy to go out of her way for even that and she sent me over to his house to ask for the money.
That was the first time I saw Mr. Harddick, but he told me later it was not the first time he had seen me. We had been neighbors for years, but I had never paid any attention to his existence. As my mom had called him, he had the money ready for us, but once he saw I was alone, he asked me in. His house was just beautiful. Sitting in the middle of the huge living room stood a doll house, taller than me. I was fascinated. He said it belonged to his nieces and that I could come in and play whenever I wanted. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
After that day, I would come over and play with him almost every afternoon, since Maggie couldn’t care less where I was or what I was doing. Mr. Harddick was always very attentive and would only let me play if I had done all my homework. In a short while, I was bringing my homework to do over at his house, and he set a small desk just for me in the corner of his living room. Unfortunately, there was only one chair, so whenever he came to check my work, I had to get up and then sit on his lap. He held me tight and gently pressed to him.
It wasn’t until years later that I would realize he was indeed pressing my little bum over his cock, feeling the thrill of touching my young body for the first time, even if through my clothes. It was a shame things had to be so hidden back then. But I understand him completely now. With the kinds of things people taught children about how dirty and sick loving and touching was, he had to use subterfuge at first, until he felt safe he could trust me.
In the few times she came over to check on me, Maggie would see me doing homework or practicing reading aloud on one of Mr. Harddick many children’s books. She was quickly satisfied and went back to her laptop. Meanwhile my mom was the happiest, with me doing so well at school and the teacher complimenting her on the good presentation of all my work and my above average reading skills. Mom even considered giving Maggie a raise, thinking it was all her job.
As time went by, Mr. Harddick began to trust me so much more and he gave me many interesting children’s books to practice my reading. They had naked children all over them and the illustration was very beautiful. I was fascinated as we turned the pages. By this time, Mr. Harddick no longer wore pants, but he often wore very loose shorts, which I thought were way too big for him. He told me he used to be fat and we left it at that. One of the stories in these new books was about a girl’s birthday, and I was so surprised to see that as each child came in, they had to hand the present to the mother and kiss the father’s dick. I was curious about this.
“Why do they have to kiss his thingie?” I asked.
“Well, it is a very old costume. When one, a child, is a guest at a man’s house, he or she must kiss the host’s dick as they come in. But in today’s world, so swept with bad manners people have forgotten about these precious things.” He replied to my question in the most kind manner.
“But… but I’m a guest at your house…”
“Indeed you are, little one”
“And I have never…I mean…you have never…”
“Oh, you mean I have never offered you my cock to kiss?” he asked all of a sudden, almost reading my childish mind.
“Yes…” I said shyly.
“You see, new generations are different and I did not know how you had been raised. My nieces do it all the time. And it is also a tradition to do that for your daddy whenever he comes home from work… Do you kiss your dad’s dick?” he asked innocently, but he knew the answer to that.
“No… my daddy left us,….”
“Oh, he was just a fool. If I had a daughter as pretty as you, I would never leave your side for one minute” he said hugging me strongly, feeling how sad and upset I was. “Do you want to kiss my cock? Like a good, polite little girl?”
Oh, how I wanted to be a good, polite little girl! If I had been that polite, maybe my dad wouldn’t have left! “I guess…” I said hesitantly.
We stood and Mr. Harddick pulled down his shorts. His long dick stood in front of my face and I held it with my little hand and kissed it once. He moaned a little. I looked up to his face and as young as I was then, I could see he was very pleased with me. I felt a strange sensation, a mixture of pride and confusion. You see, I had never seen a real cock before, just the ones drawn on the books, and it looked so big, so….powerful.
“That was wonderful Christina. Now, don’t you think you should kiss it a few more times to make up for all the times you came here before?”
It made sense. I had been so impolite! He treated me so well, welcomed me to his home, he fed me and taught me so many things! I should kiss his cock so many times to make up for that!
“Oh, my baby girl! That is so good!” He said as I kissed it again and again. “Now, my dear, why don’t you open your lips just a little bit more?”
I did and the tip of his cock slid inside my mouth. He moaned again, this time louder. I looked up at him, but he reassured me I was doing very good. It did not take long for me to taste some salty liquid oozing out of the cock in my mouth. He then pulled out and explained it was OK for the day, because if such a beautiful little girl kept a man’s cock long enough in her mouth, he could explode some thick warm liquid and he thought I might not yet be prepared for that. I accepted it and we went back to our reading practice, only Mr. Harddick did not pull his shorts back up. I sat on his lap again, but he was naked and I could feel his thingie rubbing against my knickers.
“Mr. Harddick…why are you…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.
“Oh, little one, you look even prettier when you blush. Don’t be embarrassed. It is just that it felt so good when you kissed it, that I want to rub it a bit more, so I can feel even better.”
“Are you going to…I mean… the liquid?”
“Yes, my darling, I will. But you don’t worry about that. Just concentrate on your reading ok?”
And so I did. One of his hand was holding me at my waste and the other was down rubbing his cock over the crotch of my panties. I had a tingly feeling inside that I couldn’t explain. After a short while I could feel the warm liquid he talked about wetting the front of my panties as he pressed himself so hard against my little pussy. He groaned softly and hugged me tightly.
“I think you wet me, Mr. Harddick” I said a little embarrassed, although I did not know why.
“It’s ok, my dear. Let me take care of that” he said as he made me stand in front of him and raise the hem of my dress. He looked at my cum covered crotch in obvious delight. “Oh, my! What a mess have I made here! I’m sorry little one, but you will have to take off your panties.” I motioned to let go of my dress but he interrupted me.
“No, hold still. Let me help you. You just keep holding your dress up. In fact hold it a little higher.”
My dress was now covering my face. I couldn’t see what was going on, but I heard a ‘click’ sound and asked what it was. He said he had taken a picture. “A picture? Of my undies? But they are dirty!” I exclaimed feeling so embarrassed!
“Oh, no, dear. They are not ‘dirty’, they are just soaked in cum. And cum is not dirty. In fact, it is good enough to eat. They are just wet. And many daddies and uncles love to see a girl’s panties soaked in cum like this.” Another click. I was going to let my dress down now, I was so embarrassed, but he told me not to. He slowly pulled my panties down to mid thigh. Another click. I wanted to let go of my dress and run away, but I dare not move. He pulled my panties all the way down and took one last shot.
“You can let go of your dress now, Christina.”
I straightened my dress and just stood there, embarrassed and confused. He took me in his arms and soothed me.
“My darling, do you realize how much I love you? You are the most precious little thing in my life! And today you made me feel so special too.”
I was young, but I wasn’t stupid. I had had a class at school in which they told us about adults touching us on our private parts. Except Mr. Harddick didn’t really touch me. He only took pictures. I did not know if that was allowed or not. I voiced my concerns and everything they had told me at school.
It was then that I had the most important conversation of my life. Mr. Harddick did not only tell me exactly what sex was and how he liked to touch little girls like any pedophile would. He went on to explain to me about thinking critically and independently about everything in life. Of course many of the things he told me about history and philosophy did not sink in right away in my immature mind. But it did create a solid foundation that allowed me to become the open minded person I am today. On the days and years that followed, he taught so much, but the most important was that I should think for myself and not just swallow what other imposed as preconceptions.
I’ll tell you more about this very important period of my life, but right now, let’s skip a few years into the future. Six years later, when I was twelve, he was sent to prison for child abuse. I was so shocked! They seized lots of things from his house, but I was smart enough to grab the most important so-called ‘evidence’ of our relationship, so he was sentenced to ten years in jail. All his properties was left at the care of a lawyer, but he had established that all proceeds of his internet business should go to me and made me his sole heir in case of his premature passing. My mom was of course unaware of any of this. If she had known, she might have used that against him and increased his sentence.
As a consequence of this much public case, I was invited by Oprah, for a live special on child abuse. Of course, being a minor, I couldn’t just show my face on TV, but under the protection of blurred camera images, I voiced what no one expected. I said I wasn’t abused, I wasn’t traumatized, and if anything, that man had made me a smart, independent woman, not a victim. Oh, they tried to argue and convince me I was a frail little creature who needed help and caring. But I wasn’t falling for that so easily. In very few minutes I was on the air, I finally plead that all other ‘non-victims” came forth, so people could understand the truth. My appearance on the show was brief, but it caused uproar. It may have been the first time ever anyone claimed that the relationship of a child and an older man was indeed to her benefit, and not otherwise.
I used whatever funds I had to start a campaign on behalf of non-victims and advocating the sexual rights of children of all ages. Much to my surprise, anonymous donations came pouring from everywhere. My mother tried to stop me at all costs, but she just couldn’t. Loads of families came forth, making their voices heard. The road wasn’t a smooth one, and many people got arrested, but as the time passed, many more convictions were overthrown. Mr. Harddick, or Victor, as I called him now, was released after serving four years, thanks to my activism. I was then 16 and emancipated, so we got married, having our first daughter one year afterwards.
The Road Ahead
Having changed the laws regarding consensual pedophilia and incest, it was time to fill a much needed market void: we started a pedophile recruitment agency. Now, all children who did not have pedophile relatives and who felt they needed the specialized services of experienced pedos could come and find one who suited their specific needs. So was the case of little Janet. Janet’s mom was single and she herself had been the product of a loving family, but her dad had passed and her two brothers lived far away. She did not want little Janet to grow up without a male sexual figure in her life. The adorable little one looked like Shirley Temple as she walked in the agency holding hands with her mother. She was only 3 years old.
Her mother filled the forms and we narrowed down to three candidates that matched her criteria. We invited them all for an afternoon snack at the agency so mother and daughter could choose their suiter. These were always precious moments…the little girl would go and talk to each one of them in private. We had cameras so we could see how they got along. At the end she chose Mr. Hunter, an experienced 59 year old men who had molested all his three children and all his grandchildren, both boys and girls. Mr. Hunter had been in jail with Victor and his family had been one of the most active from the begining of our movement. He was now working with us full time, servicing children of all ages.
On that first day with little Janet, he had been smart. Instead of seeking the instant gratification of having the little child suck his own cock right then and there in the cabin, he made her feel special by playing with the girls virgin cunny and telling her how beautiful she was. He asked permission to see her naked so he could really see how gorgeous her body looked. He told her about how her puffy pink pussy was made by God to be the source of pleasure and asked her if he could show her how pleasurable it could be. She promptly allowed him, and as he sucked her baby juices, he inserted his tongue as deep as it would go up her tinny slit. His hands caressed every inch of her body and she had her first little girl orgasm.
For her it was a no brainer: should she choose the nice man who made her feel so special, or the other two who had shoved their big things in her mouth without so much as an explanation? Mr. Hunter would do the same of course, as soon as he had secured his job as her own private pedophile. In a brief talk to the mother he explained his methods of work and detailed how he would abuse her baby. He was comfortable with her watching or participating if she chose to do so, which she accepted. The mother herself had been sucking the child’s cunt since she had been born, so it came as no surprise. Mr. Hunter had just 2 demands, though. He would fuck her little asshole at the age of four and take her virginity at the age of five. The mother was hesitant but he reassured her he had done the same to all his children and grandchildren and it was physically fine.
The other thing was he must be called Daddy. A little girl must learn about all sex things from Daddy, even if not a biological one. Mother and daughter blushed. They finally had found a man to call Daddy.