Copyright (c) 2018,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Thursday, February 15, 2018

This story may be downloaded by Palisade members uniquely for their private use, and 
may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites.  Mr Double 
may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com.

A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: orphant1.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com

story_codes: M/g(11) Man/young girl, mmm/g(8) young boys/young girl, M/g(4) Man/young girl, nc, cons

story_intro: After orphans from the East are adopted into three Midwestern families at the turn of the twentieth century, they start to live very different lives. Some are for the better and some are for the worse.


story_language: English



Orphan Train, part 1

Written by madvlad


	Historical Note: From the 1850's to the 1920's, trains filled with orphaned and abandoned children were sent from the overcrowded big-city slums of the Northeastern US (primarily New York City) to small towns and rural areas in the West and Midwest in hopes of finding homes for these children who otherwise faced a bleak future.

---

	Enos Henson looked about the assembled crowd at the train station with satisfaction. Despite the heat of early August, people had turned out in their best to welcome the train, which if on schedule would arrive in twelve minutes.

	And why should the city of Tylerville expect anything less than an on-time arrival? This was a city on the rise; a city of the new century. Having begun as a stopover point for stage coaches as it was equidistant between the Iowa cities of Des Moines and Davenport; Tylerville could have shrunk with the advent of the coal-fired trains that raced along the rails of steel. In the dust of the great locomotives, Tylerville could have been rendered nigh invisible from the metropolises Chicago and those farther East to other places well past Des Moines - Council Bluffs, Omaha, and all points in the gradually tamed West.

	But instead, Tylerville itself became a place to stop as the downtown blossomed and the growing muscles of the Industrial Age flexed within the city borders as factories sprang up. Farming still remained as an important part of the local commerce, of course. Enos was an example of the new agricultural success, having turned his father's homestead into a much larger concern with employees to help maintain the vast acreage.

	Enos' legacy would fall to his sons who stood fidgeting in the Saturday heat while dressed in their Sunday suits. The eldest at fourteen, Hiram, called "Hi", would likely be the one running the farm in years to come. Thirteen year old Sebastian, or "Seb", was the clever one, excelling in all subjects at school and would no doubt be ensconced as a Hawkeye at the University in Iowa City once he matriculated from Tylerville's secondary school.

	At twelve, Will had already shown a proclivity for things mechanical, studying and dismantling (and thankfully, restoring) the traction engine tractor Enos had purchased for his growing farm. Tylerville's postmaster, Samuel Preston, was also keen about the progress in inventions and often loaned the boy his recent scientific periodicals.

	While Enos could call himself successful with no damning hubris, he was not the wealthiest farmer by far. That title easily fell to Silas Varney, a prim bachelor and church deacon whose vast acreage was tended by tenant farmers.

	Surprisingly, Varney was here now along with the other folk waiting for the orphans to arrive. The two men exchanged nods and Varney, as befitting his standing, was the first to speak.

	"Looking for an extra body for the harvest?" he asked, doling out each word with a parsimonious tone.

	"No. I have the boys and the other hands and we'll add more hired help once it is time," Enos replied, putting his arm around the back of his wife at a suitably modest height. "Evelyn has always dreamt of having a daughter and this might be that dream calling."

	"Girls are to be raised to be fit companions for their betters, Henson," Silas sermonized. "Not as whimsical dolls. I need a new girl to tend to the household and, if she proves herself, may be sent to my sister's school as was the last one this past spring."

	Silas' sister ran a finishing school for girls in Chicago, producing moderately cultured young ladies who understood their place in raising families and keeping their husbands' homes in proper order. When Silas judged a girl in his employ - usually an orphan or one from a poor family - fit, he sent her, with train fare at his expense, to Chicago where his sister would take them in.

	A peal of laughter from a cluster of ladies earned a disapproving frown from Silas. At the center of the group was - to no surprise - Betty Preston. Betty ran a boardinghouse in town, which, in Silas' frequently outspoken opinion, was often a warren of drifting lowlifes such as travelling salesmen, would be-artist and  writers, and ne'er-do-well students from the colleges of the East who wanted to see some of  the country.

	Betty's only decent contribution to the town, in Silas' opinion, was producing her son, Samuel, who was tolerably efficient as the postmaster. The young man had been a recently widowed Navy engineer who served under Commodore Dewey in the Philippines campaign four years earlier. Although he had acquitted himself bravely in the Battle of Manila, injuries from a damaged boiler which he had kept from exploding left him with the loss of hearing in one ear and the loss of sight in one eye. He had returned home to Tylerville with a letter from no less than United States Postmaster General Charles Emory Smith appointing him to fill the recently vacated position of Tylerville's postmaster.

	But in the here and now, what was Betty doing here?

	Clearing his throat, Silas said loudly, "I would hope that Tylerville's first impression on these children would be one of Christian sobriety and not the careless cackling of idle-making crows."

	"And I would hope," Betty immediately shot back. "That Silas Varney would mind his own beeswax."

	The ladies around her tittered as Silas turned away, his chin tilted as if he were immune to any retorts. Enos could feel Evelyn shaking with barely restrained laughter and he allowed himself a chuckle, too. Dear Betty was one of the few people who could do something like that to Silas and have no consequences to suffer.

	The train did arrive on schedule and now nervous children were brought out to meet their tentative new families. Silas sniffed as if searching for an air of corruption about the thin girl who stood nervously in front of him.

	"Mary is quite capable of keeping house, Mr. Varney. She can clean, cook, and sew."

	The woman from the relief society was well aware of Silas' financial donations in the past as well as the reputation of his sister's school. Although any girl placed with him would be most fortunate, in Mary's case there was a catch.

	"Mary's sister, Elizabeth, here is also quite a useful little helper. She is very quiet and polite. You may-"

	"I'm only interested this one," he said, pointing a bony finger at Mary. "How old is she?"

	"Eleven," the woman replied. "And Elizabeth is eight. We would prefer to keep sisters together, Mr. Varney. Perhaps we can find another suitable child?"

	Silas did not wish to prolong his stay among some of these townspeople here. Giving Elizabeth a longer glance, he saw the same brown hair and pale blue eyes as her sister. With a sigh, he turned to the woman.

	"May as well take them both, I suppose. Keeping them together would be the Christian thing to do."

	"Boys," Evelyn called. "This is Nell, you're new sister. I do hope she'll blend in with the family."

	Hi and Will had reddish brown hair, a mix of their parents' coloring while Seb's locks were bright copper just like his mother's. And just like the eight year-old standing next to Evelyn.

	"Well, most of us," said Seb, always quick with a joke. "Looks like Father is the odd man out. She doesn't look like him at all."

	Evelyn and his brothers laughed and Nell joined in. Enos gave his middle son a mock scowl.

	"She's going to look nothing like you when you've got my boot in your backside, boy," he growled.

	As expected, that only got him more laughter. Evelyn turned to Nell.

	"Pay no attention to them. All four of those boys like to play rough."

	"Here she is!" Betty sang.

	Sam looked up from his desk in the post office as his mother came in carrying a very small girl. The child's dark eyes were huge in her porcelain face, framed by silky, golden brown locks. Giving the tot a warm smile, Sam then turned to his mother.

	"And who is she?"

	"Why, your daughter, of course. Her name is Clara. Tell him how old you are, Clara."

	The girl tentatively held up four fingers. Realizing his mouth was agape, Sam raised his lower jaw and then focused once more on his mother.

	"Just how did this come to be? I'm certainly no father."

	"Why, the train, of course! Isn't she a dear?"

	"Uh, yes. But I never signed any papers or made inquiries..."

	"Oh, pish-posh!" Betty said with a wave of her hand. "I signed everything for you."

	"But mother, that's forgery."

	"Not if your mother does it. It's the law, you know."

	"The law? Where?"

	"Well, every one of those judges on the Supreme Court has a mother and you don't think they'd cross their own mothers, do you? There, it's settled." Betty sealed her pronouncement with a laugh before turning more serious.

	"Dearest," she said gently. "I worry about you, so. Since your darling Agatha passed away, you've become such a recluse. First, it was with all of those engines on board your big Navy boats."

	"Ships, Mother," Sam corrected her automatically.

	"Yes. But since you've come back from the seven seas, you spend your evenings with your nose in a book or one of those periodicals about scientific gewgaws and such. There are so many eligible young ladies here in town and you're only thirty-five."

	"I'm no prize, Mother," Sam replied as he brushed a finger over the scars on his left temple.

	"Nonsense! I have it on very good authority that the ladies find you quite dashing. I think the scars help - it shows that you're a man of the world. I do hope you marry someday but in the meantime, I'd like a grandchild. Since I already raised a son, I shall have a granddaughter now."

	Sam tried to speak but couldn't. Betty beamed.

	"Good! It's settled, then. Now, I'm going to take my granddaughter shopping for some clothes. You be sure to come over for dinner and then you can take her home afterward. Then you can tell her all about your grand adventures on your Navy boats."

	"Ships, Mother."

	Betty turned to Clara and kissed her on the nose.

	"I am going to find such pretty dresses for you. And your father will tell you all kinds of exciting stories about sailing all around the world on his boats."

	"Ships, Grandmother," the little girl corrected.

	Now it was Sam who beamed with...fatherly pride?

	Betty left the post office still carrying Clara. After the door closed, Sam found himself staring into space as his new predicament settled over him. A father?

	He had encountered several typhoons in the Pacific. And although his mother was infinitely more well-tempered, there was no storm that could hope to match the force of Nature that was Betty Preston.

	When Silas eased the wagon to a stop, one of the stable boys took hold of the horses. Silas dismounted and had the sisters do the same. Instead of leading them toward his house, a surprisingly small and spare structure considering his wealth, he took them to the rows of chicken coops.

	"You'll need to work your way into house duty," he said to Elizabeth. "You'll start for now by cleaning the old straw from the henhouses and putting new in as well as collecting the eggs each morning. Mr. Livesy, who lives in the house over yonder by the corner of the field, will take them to market. But bring two, no, I suppose four now, eggs to my house every morning. Now get to work. Mary, come with me."

	Mary followed him into the house and found it nearly as Spartan on the inside as it appeared outside. As Silas lectured her on her expected chores and how and when he wanted his meals, she followed him as he walked through the house and into his bedroom. Turning to face the girl, he put his hands on her shoulders.

	Mary was surprised by the contact - nearly a gesture of warmth from her taciturn guardian. Then Silas bunched the thin cloth in his hands and tore the dress outward. Buttons flew and before the stunned girl understood what was happening, her upper body was bared. Silas pinched the diminutive new sprouts on her chest as if testing the worthiness of some suspect fruit.

	"You haven't had these long, I expect," he noted. "Now, finish undressing."

	Mortified and feeling utterly alone, Mary pushed her ruined garment off before removing her stockings and shoes. Covering her budding breasts with crossed arms, she stood straight before him.

	And then fell to the floor with the stroke mark of his hand burning her cheek.

	"I said, undress," he snarled. "And don't try to cover yourself. You are a worthless whore and have nothing of value to protect."

	Weeping, Mary removed her bloomers and managed to keep her trembling hands at her sides as she stood completely nude before the man. Silas licked a finger before dabbing against the cleft in the girl's smooth vulva. When he twisted his finger inside, the girl gasped. Something in there hurt and he stopped and withdrew.

	"So you're still a virgin," he said with a sneer. "It proves nothing - more by accident than anything else. You'd have given it away soon enough. At least now it will be taken by a deserving man."

	Silas groped the preteen's crotch again.

	"Have you begun to bleed there?" he asked.

	When Mary clearly didn't understand, Silas nodded.

	"You will - very shortly. And if God wills it, you won't bleed in that place again while you're under my roof."

	Mary was thrown onto the bed and watched in disbelief as Silas shucked his pants off. Something fleshy stood out stiffly from his groin and he smeared it with his own spit. The innocent girl thought it was a vile thing to do. When Silas climbed onto the bed and hawked more spit to rub between her legs, she struggled. Two blows across the face - one forehand and the other backhand - left her stunned while he crudely lubricated her mound and the place just inside of her cleft. 

	Silas pushed the head of his penis against the youngster's hairless mons, making her helpless labia open for him. Finding the resistance of her small opening inside, he shifted his weight. With a mighty heave, he bulled his way into the eleven year-old, tearing through her membrane and touching her in places she didn't understand. Mary screamed and struggled, but now he was inside of her while she lay trapped beneath him. And no one on his farm would come if they heard his latest ward suffering some discipline.

	Punching his way into the snug tunnel of Mary's deflowered cunt, Silas grunted as he worked - oh what glorious work - until the girl was completely full of her master's cock. With blood squelching and dribbling from the wounded hole, Silas thrust his engorged member roughly into Mary's prepubescent twat and made sure she would never forget her first lesson in womanhood. It was a Godly calling to save such a young virgin from the vices of the filthy streets, to make her understand what it meant to serve a man of character.

	Mary had no choice but to except the horror of that hardness trying to rip at her as it stabbed in and out. With every stroke, it tried to push her insides apart, making her stretch with every invading push before pulling on her clasping cunny when it withdrew as if to turn her inside out down there.

	Encouraged by the girl's tearful surrender, Silas kept wrenching his prick with great effort, ravishing the preteen with every plunge in her slick little fuck hole. Although small, it still lubricated him lewdly, proving to Silas that every member of the female sex was a whore. His mother certainly had been before his father took a horsewhip to her and drove her from the home. And then his sister served her father as his whore so the man could have his just pleasures in the place he ruled.

	Having been without a serving girl for a few months, Silas' climax produced a healthier than usual load of semen. Fresh tears sprang from Mary's eyes and she wailed at the touch of hot slime pumping more deeply into her body. Silas grunted in pleasure as he completed the defilement of the former young virgin.

	"There are rags in the bottom draw of the bureau," he said. "Be sure to clean yourself so I don't have your filth staining my house. There's a ham and some cheese in the ice box and fruit on the side board.  Always serve me my fruit sliced - I will not eat it whole like a common field hand. Now bring me my lunch."

	Mary staggered across the room, holding a hand to her draining cunny until she could push a rag against it. When she shuffled to retrieve her ruined dress, Silas stopped her.

	"You won't need your whore's dress. I'll have you again when you return with my meal. No go - you have ten minutes."

	They were in the hayloft of the main barn near the house and Nell regarded her new brothers. Although they were older than her, they seemed quite nervous as they whispered among themselves. Finally, Hi spoke.

	"Since we had no sister before, could we see under your dress?"

	Nell started to lift her hem before stopping. Having grown up in Hell's Kitchen, she had acquired a savvy street knowledge of how things were.

	"Do you want to see my bloomers or what's inside of them?" she asked.

	It meant little to her as she never had worn bloomers before the ladies of the society had put them on her and made sure she wore them every day.

	Hi's ears colored.

	"Um, what's inside of them, I guess."

	Nell giggled and slid her undergarment off before raising her dress. The three boys gasped as they gazed at their first sight of female parts. Through conversations at school, they had gleaned that those parts became covered with hair once a girl was old enough to use them, much as hair had begun to grown between the boy's legs with varying degree.

	But Nell's quim was devoid of any such covering and they saw the fleshy V of her mons and the small cleft formed by the slightly chubby lips pressed together. Nell though it was humorous the way they leaned forward to look more closely yet did not dare to reach out. But it was nice that they didn't just grab her like she was some cheap cut of meat.

	That was how the boys in her old neighborhood did it. A year ago, one of them who was maybe a year older than Hi was now had thrown Nell over a barrel. While she lay on her stomach, he pulled her legs open and touched her in an odd way in her girl place. It was odd because the thing touching her wasn't a finger. Then, having witnessed enough such acts, Nell understood his intent.

	It hurt. It hurt very badly but her screeching drew no more attention than the other wails of agony that often rode the fetid air in Hell's Kitchen. Something hot rolled down her spread snatch; when the act was done, she saw it had been her own blood. He pushed inside her against and again for maybe a minute before ejaculating inside of her. Left on the barrel with both blood and her rapist's semen drooling down her legs, Nell learned more about life.

	It got around that she had been opened and she, like other girls, became the playthings of older boys whenever they wanted. Nell quickly understood that when she was more cooperative, she might get rewarded with a taste of beer or a sweet or some purloined trinket.

	At Nell's invitation, the brothers cautiously inspected her small cunny with trembling fingers. It made her feel good inside, giving her the dampness that made the next part much easier on her.

	Keeping her dress raised to her hips, she turned and leaned over a hay bale. When she saw the boys staring at her, she laughed.

	"Well, aren't you going to put your dicks in me? That's what happens next."

	Being the eldest, Hi was first. Seb and Will, although eager, were willing to let their big brother do it first so they could learn. While inexperienced, they understood that this was different than what they did with their hands.

	When the tip of Hi's penis touched the girl's bald cleft, he wasn't sure he could fit anything inside such a small thing. But he slid in, finding a sultry warmth that greeted him as her little passage stretched to accommodate him. Enraptured, he pushed all the way in. The slickness that gripped him was phenomenal and when his forward momentum stopped, his semen was gushing into her.

	"Oh, that was fast," Nell remarked.

	"Uh, yeah," Hi acknowledged, trying to sound as if that had been his intent. 

	She had been amazing - his first pussy - but it was over so quickly.

	"Come on, let me try," Seb hissed.

	Hi stepped aside, his penis hardening as his brother humped Nell for perhaps a minute before he shook as he came. He hadn't lasted all that long, either, but it was still better than Hi's solitary half-stroke. Will followed up with another minute-long trip to Wonderland before Nell's bald little cunt was once again ready as the pearly discharge of three horny young boys oozed from her well-lubricated hole.

	Hi went in again. Mercifully, he lasted much longer this time; thrusting into the eight year-old's tight and gooey quim for several minutes before blowing his now incestuous wad into her undeveloped organs.

	As Seb humped her next, Nell was discovering the pleasures of their longer staying time. While the hard teen prick plunged her sweet little hole, the motion ground the front of her young cunt against the edge of the hay bale. It tickled a little and scratched a bit but it was enough to get really get her sex rumbling. Nell had heard about girls being able to feel something akin to what boys and men felt when they squirted and instinct told her it was building now.

	Seb's second cumming inside her meant there was a pause. But then Will mounted her from behind and worked his young cock like a piston inside her eight year-old twat, Nell's passion quickly ratcheted and she experienced her first climax while the twelve year-old exploded deep inside her.

	"What happened to you?" Seb asked.

	"I came," Will explained.

	"Not you, her."

	"I came, too. Girls can do that. But you boys were the first who could make me feel that way."

	"Golly, I did that?" Will asked.

	"All of you did - it just kept getting...I don't know. Bigger inside of me."

	"I can go again," Hi said, brandishing his renewed hard-on.

	Nell wriggled on the hay bale, waving her wet, hairless pussy like a flag at a bull. And Hi fit the part of the bull quite well as he pushed his teenage organ into the childish snatch.

	Taking turns, the three boys managed to bring Nell off one more time while each of them got to inseminate their little sister yet again. When they had finally exhausted their libido, they helped Nell down from the hayloft and decided to show her some of the other areas surrounding the house. The farm itself was too big to simply walk without hours available but there was plenty for Nell to see.

	Evelyn saw them from the porch and thought Nell's gait seemed a little strange. But she seemed quite animated and happy with her doting brothers. Well, boys did like to play rough, after all - wild Indians and pirates and the like. She just might have to remind her sons that little girls preferred gentler games than what boys usually played.

	At Betty's boardinghouse, Clara was, as Betty put it, the belle of the ball. Betty and her lodgers doted on the girl as she showed off one of her new dresses. But once she left with Sam, she became more withdrawn. The little girl remembered her first father. He was a man who reeked of rotgut and would sometimes be away for weeks with no explanation (although she often heard that the explanation was jail).

	But it was his hands she remembered most vividly. They were the hands that would beat her mother and the ones that would slap Clara if she was not hidden well enough from his drunken wrath. Those hands would leave her bruised if they grabbed her before tossing her against a wall or her mother.

	Sensing an uneasiness in her new father, Clara gazed at his hands as they walked down town to his house. They looked large and strong and Clara trembled at the thought of how they would feel.

	Sam was lost in his thoughts. Of course, his mother would not know his concern over having custody of a little girl. His late wife, Agatha, had been a slip of a young woman; nothing like the buxom ladies who had hoped to be courted by the man in his Naval uniform. But along with the compatibility of their minds and emotions, Agatha held a physical attraction in the slight build of her body - more girlish than womanly.

	After Agatha had died of scarlet fever, Sam had ventured into the finer class of brothels in the Orient - the types where officers and gentlemen could spend leisure time in proper surroundings unlike the squalid cat houses frequented by the enlisted men. In these discreet pleasure palaces, Sam found Asian women who looked very young for their age. Eventually, he discovered the select places where he could find those who were simply very young.

	The youngest had been a slight girl of nine in Singapore. To this day, he thought of her in his lonely hours, recalling the light sensuality of her young body and her lilting voice before the heavier, carnal memories came to bear as he sought physical relief with his hand.

	Once they were home, Sam laid out Clara's nightgown on his bed. He had spare rooms which he used as libraries and tinkering workshops. He'd clear one of them out to make the girl a proper bedroom but for now there was plenty of room for both of them in the area of his oversized bed. After living aboard a ship in a cramped cabin with a confining bunk, Sam relished the absurd space of the largest bed he could find when he settled back in Tylerville.

	Trying to keep his head clear of any improper ideas, Sam undressed the girl. But once Clara was completely nude, he couldn't help but to let his eyes roam over the visual feast of her utterly childish body. Only faint circles of pink on the white flatness of her torso marked the place where future maturity would bring her breasts.

	It was, of course, the tiny mound of girlhood between her legs that attracted his focus. She was so fresh and innocent there with the mild plumpness of her modest age and the promise of delight locked away behind dainty slit set in the tempting, hairless flesh of her vulva. She was so much smaller than that young girl in Singapore - far too little for him to attempt penetration. But she was so luscious and begged for some sort of attention.

	Then Sam noticed Clara's wide eyes staring at him in trepidation. She couldn't read his thoughts and surely she couldn't know of any man's carnal attraction toward her. Sam imagined he must have seemed like a hungry wolf surveying his dinner while he had been gazing at her. Smiling at her, he took his course of action.

	"Clara, do you like magic?" he asked.

	The tot's expression shifted from nervousness to curiosity and she nodded.

	"Would you like me to show you some magic?"

	Another nod.

	Sam sat on the bed and pulled the girl into his lap. After gently spreading her legs, he placed two fingers on the silky skin of her baby cunny. Beginning with light circles on her bald mons, he explored the tiny, rounded contours of her adorable female place. His other hand slid across her chest and tummy with fingers splayed so he could rub her there.

	The man's touches on her were warm and gentle - everything the other man's had not been. With no concept of lewdness, Clara was quickly enthralled by the contact regardless of where it was. Sighing with contentment, she settled back against Sam's stomach so her new father could continue with the wonderful things he was doing.

	Easing the child's hairless lips apart, Sam admired the delicate pink structure of the four year-old's sex. Her inner labia formed a fine border to the temple of her femininity, offering him a view of the thin membrane that symbolized virgin status. As he caressed and manipulated the tiny genitals, Clara's maidenhead would shift and flex. The opening in the middle would stretch enough for him to see more pinkness inside - the satin lining of her inner sex.

	As his explorations and massages progressed, the glimpses he saw there showed her beginning to glisten. Placing the thumb of his other hand over her heart, he could feel the little girl's pulse racing with her first stirrings of arousal. He wondered what she thought of this new magic but did not want to break the mood.

	His finger slipped in to where his eyes had been boring. The tyke shivered as her clitty was discovered and fondled. The finger slid toward her opening, finding her lubricating for an act she was not ready to consummate. Sam did briefly consider relieving her of her virgin prize but she would not understand the significance of it - only the unexpected pain and intrusion. No, they had all the time they needed - years even - so she could appreciate the moment when she would be lovingly taken.

	Still, there was much to bring about. Clara was keening in whimpers and prolonged whines as her inexperienced pussy was introduced to the wet licks of heat that her awakened lust could bring. She rolled her tiny hips, grinding her naked ass against the hard lump in the man's trousers in an instinct she could have never explained. Fingers on the outside of her feverish snatch stroked and pressed inward while the fingertip engaged between her bald labia was saturated with her flowing nectar. So small and gooey was she at the outside of her portal that it felt as if her quim was sucking on Sam's digit.

	Sam pressed his finger more firmly, not trying to breach her but to bring about the reaction that quickly followed. With a surprised "ah!" the four year-old was gripped by her first ever orgasm. A small, heated burst of wetness shot over Sam's finger. When Clara's shuddering subsided, Sam raised his finger to his nose and inhaled.

	It had not been a result of the girl's shocked bladder. No, the fragrance was completely feminine but in a lighter, delicate way that spoke of the childish body that had produced it. In the Orient, he had known of women who could cum like that. It was nothing they could control - some produced the shot of liquid like that while others were less forceful. What would they thought of little Clara's reaction?

	"Good magic, Papa," Clara softly croaked.

	Sam kissed her on the top of her head and gave her belly another innocent rub which she clearly appreciated. Although he knew nothing of her past, she clearly relished the skin-on-skin contact she was receiving.

	Later, he slipped into bed, assuming that Clara was asleep. But he heard her moving and soon felt her small body pressed against his. Putting one arm on top of him, Clara whispered, "Papa, I love you." In her tone, Sam heard both a declaration of affection and a declaration of need.

	He put a hand on her and slowly rubbed it along her side. Although his intent had been benign, he discovered that her movements had made her nightgown hike up and found his hand on one small, bare leg. He slid the hand up, under her nightgown, until he reached her naked rump. Spreading his hand to cover her soft little buttocks, he felt the child wriggle with contentment as she pressed her buns against his firm grip. There was a loud exhalation of her breath and Clara settled in to sleep with everything she wanted.


Copyright (c) 2018 madvlad

madvlad@mrdouble.com
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/madvlad.htm

























This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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