Chapter 1

I never thought of myself as a pedophile or even a pervert. I always felt like a normal, average married guy. I had never been attracted to teen girls, once I stopped being a teen myself, and I totally ignored any girl younger than sixteen even when I was a teen. My ideal woman was a Dallas Cowboy’s Cheerleader. I lusted after a twenty-something gal about five feet, eight inches tall, long blonde hair, a pretty face like, Meg Ryan when she was young, or Kate Hudson; with a 36DD-24-36 figure. Of course I never found anyone even resembling my dream girl, let alone any kind sexy girl who liked me.

When I retired from my job teaching middle school kids, I was pretty proud that there had never been even a hint of scandal my entire career. In thirty years of teaching pubescent little girls with cute faces, budding breasts, and impossibly tight little butts, I’d never once been tempted. The little darlings had been as safe with me as with their own mama.

I had plenty of opportunity if I’d wanted to groom a girl so I could make a move on her. My students were the kids who were always getting in trouble. Heck, they couldn’t even go to the lunchroom without pissing someone off. I would lead my charges down to the cafeteria five minutes before the lunch ladies were ready to start serving. My kids would get their trays, and we would march back to my classroom to eat.

All the broken kids in school who weren’t in special programs found out about my room and came to hang out in my safe space rather than risk the savage cafeteria; most from time to time, and a few visited me every day.

One of my regulars was a seventh grade girl who got kicked out of the house by her mom for being “uncontrollable.”

According to Sara, that meant she masturbated too much to suit her mom. She told me she tried really hard not to touch herself after she went to bed, but her clitoris itched so badly she couldn’t stand it, and finally she had to give in and stroke her pussy until it was all wet and slippery, then rub her clit like crazy, until she came. Sara said she tried gagging herself with a pair of cotton granny panties, and then when that didn’t work, a rolled up pair of socks; but she always came so hard that she made too much noise, her mom heard her, and came storming into her room to beat her butt for being such a sinful little slut.

Now if there ever was a girl putting an offer out there, it was this poor girl, rejected by her own mom, and so hungry for parental attention and approval that she was any pedophile’s dream girl. Giving me all that very personal information about herself undoubtedly was an invitation for me to help her physically so she wouldn’t feel so horny.

What did I do? I got her counseling and by the time she went to high school, she had the tools to deal with the fact that life usually sucks. Sara was successful at taking care of herself, graduated, and then disappeared from my radar, the way graduating students almost always do.

I’d always been the good guy. I was a real straight arrow. I was the prototypical Boy Scout that girls claim they want to take home to show off to their mom.

As I said before, life usually sucks, and if you bend over, you’ll probably get screwed without even getting kissed. That was certainly my experience. I was three times divorced. All of the marriages lasted around ten years, and all of my marriages ended because a nice guy just isn’t very exciting.

Add in the low pay a public school teacher makes, and it’s a recipe for relationship disaster. I was always a responsible guy and I worked one or two extra jobs to keep the bills paid. I also tried to make sure my wife didn’t have to buy her clothes at K-Mart by picking up extra construction and painting jobs before her birthday or other gift-giving holidays. Somehow it was never enough, and all three bailed on me.

Now I had to admit that I was partly to blame for picking broken girls to marry. I guess my desire to save the world and fix all the little birds with a broken wing, carried over from teaching, into my personal life. After the last divorce I was determined not to get into a relationship ever again. I would just budget for a hooker, once every two weeks, and I’d be fine.

Now that I was retired, I didn’t have to worry about the “moral turpitude” clause any more, and “Escorts” were the easiest way to keep my pipes clean. Dating, relationships, and especially marriage, always turned out to be way more expensive than just renting a pussy for an hour or two.

Pussy isn’t like real estate. Since it is hardly ever possible to truly own a woman, trying to own pussy just isn’t cost effective. I know you can find submissives or go to some country where there are de facto slaves, but I really didn’t want to work as hard as is necessary to keep even a true submissive psychologically enslaved, let alone make every decision every day for a slave.

I retired at sixty-two because the kids I was getting in my class were no longer little birds with broken wings. They were hard-core gang bangers. Some of them were sixteen years old, and most of them were a foot taller than I was. Their standardized tests said their achievement level was grade six, so they were dumped into my class.

I had been proud of the way I was able to help quite a few kids learn the tricks of “the game of school,” and get them caught up and back in regular classes in a year or two.

With bangers, the only thing they wanted to learn was gang knowledge, drug sales strategy, and the best ways not to get caught by the cops. There was no education going on in my classroom any more, and I was tired of being a prison guard. I turned in my paperwork on my birthday, and I didn’t even wait for the end of the current school year to resign.

I was trying to decide what to do. I was in good health, no mobility problems, I had all my teeth, the B-52 had wiped out some of my hearing, but I was pretty good at lip reading. I wasn’t ready for the rocking chair yet.

My “PLAN A” had been to bum around the Caribbean on the forty-one foot sloop I bought with my 401K savings, but she sank in a hurricane that crossed back and forth across Florida three or four times before finally deciding to go check out New Orleans. My plastic classic was uninsured, so I lost my boat and my savings at the same time. I also had to pay to have the wreck salvaged so the Federal and Florida EPA didn’t fine me for the nasty battery acid, diesel fuel, and engine oil still in the hulk.

I was taking my time trying to come up with “PLAN B.” While I was thinking, I made an appointment with an escort who turned out to be a freshman, working her way through college.

Patty was taller than I am, I’m guessing about six feet two inches, and a little chunky. She had great C cup tits that defied gravity and stuck straight out from her chest. Patty was a sweetie, and she let me do pretty much anything I wanted except anal, or kiss her on the lips. I saw her a few times and my only complaint was that when I went down on her, there was a little too much odor coming from her back door.

I’m an old white guy, and I’d never in my entire life even been remotely attracted to a black girl. Patty was as black as it’s possible to be. It really was a good lesson for me, because I found out her skin was silky smooth and her pussy was very wet, tasted sweet as honey, and was incredibly tight.

The last time I made an appointment with her, she was lying with her head on my chest after I finished, and she said, “You know you are not like my other customers. You go down on me, and make me cum as hard as any guy I was in love with ever did, and when you fuck me, you make me cum even harder.

“I know you are on a budget and can only see me every other week, but I’m betting you could totally take care of me and give me everything I need in and out of bed.

“I’d really like it if you were my only customer, because then I wouldn’t have to treat you like a customer. I’m really hungry to kiss you and I ache for you to fuck me bareback. If you weren’t exactly a customer, I wouldn’t need to treat you like one.” Patty said.

“I wish I could, because I really need you more than every other Friday. I really like your tight little pussy Patty, and I’d love to feel your silky pussy on my cock, not the inside of a rubber. I love the way you shave your pubic hair so you are bare and smooth as a baby’s bottom. You have the most fantastic tits I’ve ever had the pleasure to touch, kiss, lick and suck. You are definitely smart, and you are always really sweet to me. I wish I could come up with the cash, but I couldn’t afford to send my daughter to college, and I can’t do it for you either,” I said

“That’s really too bad. I can’t believe your wife ran out on you after twelve years of marriage, and you raising her three kids. She must be a real bitch. I mean you fuck me as good as any twenty year-old guy, and you are a lot nicer to me in bed, because you think of my pleasure and make me cum first. You are careful to play with my tits the way I like it done, and best of all, you go down on me and totally drive me crazy. I just don’t get why your wife would give up a nice thick cock attached to a nicer man,” Patty said

“Can I ask you a really stupid question Patty? It probably is going to make you think I’m a racist or at least an idiot, but I have to ask,” I said.

“Yeah, since I’m the only black girl you’ve ever been with, and since you made me cum ten times tonight, you get one free pass for a stupid question,” Patty said, giving me a big grin.

“Well, she wanted to do the swinging thing, and because she was a lot younger, I didn’t want to act like I was Mr. Know It All or telling her what to do, so I went along with it for a while. One guy she did it with was a minor league ball player. His cock was as big around as a baseball bat, and nearly a foot long. Afterwards, she said his size didn’t make it any better, but in your experience, do you think size matters?” I asked.

“OK, I get why you needed to ask the question. I’m not pissed at you. It’s complicated honey, because I like white boys. I think you guys are yummy as can be. In high school, I was raiding the white chocolate candy dish every chance I got. I haven’t had very much dark chocolate, so I’m not the best girl to ask. Of the five black guys that I let myself fall for their line, they were the whole range size wise. One was really big, and it hurt more than it pleased me. Three were about your size in length, but you are thicker than two of those and about equal to the other one, and one was smaller.

“From my point of view, you are just the right size to make a girl feel good, honey. You are big enough to make me feel nice and full, but not big enough to hurt, although your cock is pretty fat and it might hurt a virgin or a really little girl. Now maybe some old broad who had her coochie all stretched out from having kids might be into being a size queen, but when I’m thinking about what’s gonna rock my world, you have all the right equipment. For me though, it’s your attitude that makes you a good lover, and that’s why I suggested we try being exclusive for a while. It sucks that money has to get in the way, because I think we could both have big fun together,” Patty told me.

I got dressed and as Patty was walking me to her door, she grabbed me and kissed me on the lips. Her tongue slipped between my lips, and our tongues caressed each other. It was warm and friendly, not at all like a duel.

“Sugar, let’s sit down and actually look at a real budget and see if we can’t work things out. If we were sharing a place, it would be something you are already paying for, along with the electricity. I know I’m a big gal, but I really don’t eat that much. The main thing is, I’m sure you can keep my kitty really, really happy. I’ve never felt like begging a man before, but you can see I feel different about you,” Patty said.

“Patty, I truly wish there was a way, because you are just as sweet as can be and addictive as hell. Unfortunately, I was paying for my ex to go to school before she took off, so I know exactly how much it costs. Your tuition alone would break my piggy bank. I can’t even pay for community college, and you need to go to the state school to get a degree that means something in your field,” I told her.

She kissed me hard and grabbed my cock, trying to get me hard again. She’d already got me off twice, so my cock continued its limp noodle impersonation.

“I like you too much to make a romantic gesture that is doomed to fail Patty. I think about how wet your pussy gets, the way it is such a pretty dark, dark shade of pink inside. I’d love to find out how good it feels for my cock to slide into your incredible tightness, with no rubber in the way, the first thing every morning, when I wake up. I’d love for us to fuck each other to sleep every night. I’d like to find out if I had more practice, I could make you cum so hard it makes you scream or squirt. If I had the money, I’d sure as hell want to see if I could keep you happy. I’m just too poor, and I don’t want you to end up having to drop out because we were thinking with our genitals and counted on a wishful thinking budget,” I declared.

Patty kissed me again and pushed my hands against her tits. Her nipples were hard and thrust out from her breasts like two chunks of a big Tootsie Roll. I knew she wanted me to lose my self-control and take her nipples in my mouth and suck them and lick them until she was able to get me hard again, fuck me senseless, and make my stupefied brain agree to be her sugar daddy.

My father often told me that I had absolutely no self-control, but I surprised myself and kissed Patty goodbye and walked out her door.

When I got home, there was a curious email in the account I’d had since 1989. It was a little strange, but I read it again and figured out that it was from Von, the guy who was the Electronic Warfare Officer or EWO on the B-52 crew I served on as the Navigator.

Von and I had run wild in Thailand while we were stationed there, but I hadn’t heard from him since I got out of the Air Force in 1975, to get my Master’s degree and pick up the requirements for a teaching certificate.

The email was trying to find out if I was the right George, without giving away too much information.

I wrote back to Von that yes indeed, the account belonged to the infamous Captain Easy.

My crew liked to give everyone a nickname. Mine came from two sources. The crew commander told me it was my job to figure out how we could do things like bag drags the easiest way possible. A bag drag is what we called moving all our crew and personal equipment from one place to another, for example from a transport aircraft to our quarters or from quarters to a B-52. I’d made a few suggestions about how to get things done with the least work, and I’d been lucky enough to be right almost all the time. The second was that I could never say no to a pretty Thai girl, and any time we were allowed off base, I was hooking up with a Thai girl. I was damn easy back then. At the time, there was a newspaper comic strip named “Captain Easy,” so I got that nickname instead of Captain Lazy or Horn Dog.

Ten minutes later I was talking to Von on Skype. I had been thinking about moving to Thailand so I could afford more pussy by keeping my food and housing costs lower. Since we had such a good time chasing the girls in 1973, I wondered if he was cooking up a similar plan.

“Hey George. Are you a lazy bastard like me and retired at sixty-two?” Von asked.

“Sure am. I had to get out of that place before my students killed me for asking them to do a worksheet or two,” I replied.

“I see you’re still an animal,” Von said with a laugh, referring to the Animals song I’d referenced.

“Yeah, the last ex says I’m still “insatiable,” I admitted.

“So here’s the deal, I’ve been thinking about going back to Thailand, but guys who have been there lately say it is more expensive and not as much fun as when you and I chased LBFMs. (The guys who did tours in Thailand in the 1960s started calling Thai bar girls Little Brown Fucking Machines.)

You know because we were on BUFFs (We called B-52s BUFFs, which stood for Big Ugly Fat Fucker) we never got to go to the Philippines, but the tanker guys and the trash haulers (cargo plane crews) all loved that place. Since Clark and Subic Bay closed, it isn’t the den of iniquity it once was, but the girls are still pretty, and the cost of living is still pretty cheap. One good thing is that many more people in The Philippines can speak or at least understand English than the people in Thailand. I was thinking of making a scouting trip to see if it met my depraved and very, very low standards,” Von explained.

“So did you want to make this a joint operation?” I asked.

“That’s why I was trying to find you. You do better at getting out of trouble than any asshole I’ve ever known. You were on your way to jail son, never to see the light of day, or America the Beautiful again. Then that Thai Army judge let your sorry butt go and lectured the girl for pulling a machete on you. Just fucking unbelievable man! So if I’m going to an exotic port, I figured it would be good to have you and your unique skill set along,” Von said.

“It really was self defense, Von. I wasn’t going to let her cut my face and make little girls and babies cry when I had to go to Wal-Mart or something. I really didn’t mean to crack her head open with that Jack Daniels bottle. I was just trying to block the machete. That Thai Army Lt. Colonel understood that sometimes in a combat situation there can be collateral damage. He was wise enough to see that the initial aggressor has to expect some kind of defense. Expecting me to just stand there and let her cut me was totally unrealistic,” I said.

We organized our trip, and at midnight, three months later, our flight from Hong Kong was touching down in Manila. We got through Customs and took a cab to the Holiday Inn. Fortunately, since it was 2AM, the Manila traffic was as light as it ever gets, and it only took an hour to get from the International Terminal to Ortigas, where the Holiday Inn was located.

We were worn out after twenty-five hours from JFK to Hong Kong, a two-hour layover, and a two-hour flight to Manila, so we crashed on our separate beds and slept until housekeeping woke us up the next day.

Manila is hot, so we cleaned up and went out that night to explore. The taxi drivers didn’t want to use their meter and demanded a ridiculous fare to go to the sin district in Makati, but eventually we found one guy who wanted to get a fare enough to agree to take us for 500php instead of the 1000php the other drivers were asking. He took us to P. Burgos Street, and dropped us off in front of the Makati Palace Hotel.

Von and I walked to all the bars and clubs along the street. There were some cute girls, but almost all of them looked the worse for wear. We gave up in the wee hours and got a taxi back to the Holiday Inn.

We got online and started checking for less expensive hotels. We found several in the P. Burgos area of Makati that were much cheaper. We planned to move the next day.

Von thought of looking on Craigslist to see if any girls were advertising. He found several ads for girls he liked. I found an ad for an Escort Service, so I went to their web page and checked them out. I found two girls in their gallery who looked cute, so I called and made a date with one of them for Wednesday at 7PM.

Tracy knocked on my hotel room door a few minutes after 7PM. I gave her the envelope with the monetary gift for her time, and after she confirmed it was all there, she asked me to undress and take a shower with her. Fortunately the shower was big enough for two and there was hot water. After she soaped me up and rinsed me off, I was hard and ready to go.

Tracy let me go down on her, and she had three small orgasms before she asked me to move on to the main event.

She seemed like she was in her twenties. She was about four feet ten inches tall and weighed maybe eighty pounds. She had firm natural A cup breasts that didn’t sag, and they were nice full little cones that stood straight out from her chest, not floppy, empty bags.

She insisted I use a condom, which was a lot smarter than how we did things in Thailand back in 1973. Back then, bareback was the norm.

The “Full Service” was nice, and she was cooperative and enthusiastic. Even though it always takes me a long time to cum when wearing a condom, she didn’t have another orgasm by the time I blasted off. She cuddled with me in bed and told me what was going on in a Tagalog language TV show that was on. We were kissing, touching, and generally having a good time.

A week later, I made an appointment with Tracy, and she brought her girlfriend Sunshine along. I enjoyed the idea of a threesome more than the actual thing. Sunshine was younger than Tracy, maybe nineteen years old. She was taller, about five feet six inches, which is pretty tall for a Filipina. She was very slim, and when I slipped my condom-covered cock in her pussy, she was incredibly tight. It was difficult for me to penetrate her, and I got a little embarrassed because I wasn’t harder. I lost my erection, and we all took a break. When I got hard again, Tracy wanted me to fuck Sunshine, and I really wanted to feel her incredibly tight pussy squeezing my cock again, but I felt an emotional connection with Tracy and I had absolutely no feelings for Sunshine. Even when I was a teenager, I couldn’t fuck a girl who didn’t have a two-way emotional connection with me.

I could feel that Tracy was crushing on me a little, so I got a fresh condom, put the petite girl on her back and guided my cock into her pussy instead. I fucked her through two hard orgasms before I filled the condom with my semen.

Tracy sent Sunshine home, and Tracy and I lay in bed with our arms wrapped around each other, kissing, touching, and smiling at each other.

We ended up moving into a condo together. Tracy had a degree in Hotel and Restaurant Management. I paid the bribe to get her a job, and Tracy went to work as the night manager at a small hotel in Makati. The hotel had a 24-hour coffee shop. It wasn’t a dump, and was a place where she could be proud to work.

Our condo was walking distance from the hotel, and we spent our days making love as often as we could, then sleeping, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Tracy wasn’t as tight as Sunshine, but she was tighter than any of my wives; she kept really clean so she smelled and tasted yummy, she kissed me passionately on the lips, she let me fuck her bareback, and she realized that sucking my cock was the best way to get me hard. She didn’t ask for too much money for her mom, and I didn’t mind me putting a 500php a month limit on money for mama. I don’t think there is much more a guy can ask for in a girlfriend.

Tracy introduced me to some of her friends. Most of them were women who had been escorts and quit when they accomplished their goals or the market decided they were too old to continue in the oldest profession. Most of Tracy’s friends were single mothers.

I haven’t figured out why parents in The Philippines name their kids some of the things they do. For example, Tracy has one friend named, “Pretty,” who had never been beautiful, even as a baby. Another friend was named, “Princess,” but she was born to one of the poorest families you can imagine, so she never dressed or acted like a princess.

Pretty lived in the same building with Tracy and me. She worked at least eighteen hours a day to afford to send her daughter to a private school. Jan was ten years old when I met her. She was as beautiful as her mother wasn’t. She was intelligent, polite, and for some unknown reason, she liked me right away.

One night when Tracy was at work, Pretty knocked on our door. She was frantic because her regular babysitter was sick and couldn’t watch Jan that night. Pretty begged me to watch Jan. Pretty pointed out that it was already Jan’s bedtime, and she would just be asleep. Pretty would be done with work and home before Jan needed to get up to get ready for school.

I agreed, and Pretty ran off to get to work at her second job.

I got out my iPad, took the elevator down to Pretty’s condo, got settled in an upholstered chair, and started reading one of my Kindle books. After a couple of hours, I got bored and started searching the Internet for porn stories.

I don’t know if anyone who is acknowledged to be wise ever said this, but a person should be careful what he or she reads. Ideas you may not be able to get rid of can come into your mind through your books, stories, or Internet content.

Why was I searching for porn stories? I grew up before the VHS tape was invented, so my porn of choice in my formative years was the porn novelette, or “one hander.” Of course they don’t exist now in what used to be called “Adult Bookstores” because no one reads any more.

I don’t know why I started reading that story. It was about a fourteen year-old girl named Krissy, who was able to see into the bathroom in her house through a gap in the doorframe. One day she watched her father masturbating while he was sitting on the toilet. Krissy got so horny she decided she wanted to seduce her father.

Krissy’s mom didn’t give her husband sex very often, so he gave in to Krissy’s desires quickly. Her dad was a good guy, and they had a great love affair going. I had been in three similar marriages and considered myself the prototypical good guy, so I really identified with Krissy’s dad.

I agreed with the story’s idea that at fourteen, Krissy was old enough to decide for herself if she wanted to have sex.

I bought the story’s argument that the incest taboo is obsolete. If both people wanted to have sex, no one was being tricked, manipulated, coerced, or hurt; then what harm was there in a daughter making love with her father?

I sure as hell wished I had a fourteen year-old daughter crushing on me! I’d definitely give her everything she wanted I thought to myself.

Right after I finished reading the story, Jan woke up. She came out to the living room, grinned at me and ran to jump on my lap. “Uncle George! I’m so happy to see you. What are you doing here?” Jan asked.

“Ate Jukie got sick and she couldn’t stay with you, so your mom asked me to stay here to make sure you are OK,” I told her. (Ate is a Tagalog word that means ‘sister’ or ‘auntie’ when you are using it as an honorary title for a nanny or housekeeper. It does not imply the person is a family member. Jukie is a common female first name in The Philippines.)

“I’m not sleepy right now. Can you read one of those silly books by Doctor Seuss to me? Please Uncle George,” Jan asked.

“OK Jan. I’ll read just one, then you have to go back to bed,” I said.

“Oh alright Uncle George. I promise I’ll go back to bed after one book,” Jan agreed.

I had “Fox in Sox” on my iPad for some crazy reason. Jan giggled at all the silly rhymes and she was laughing so hard when I read the part about Tweetle Beetles, I thought she was going to fall off my lap.

When I finished reading, Jan threw her arms around my neck. She said, “Thank you Uncle George!” and she kissed me on the cheek.

Jan ran to the bathroom, and then she went back to bed. I couldn’t believe what had happened to me as soon as the little girl sat on my lap. I got harder than I did with 100mg of Viagra and sexy Tracy naked and spread wide on the bed waiting for me to fill her little cunt. Why? After all, Jan was cute, but she was only four feet tall, her chest was totally flat, and she was definitely a little girl. I didn’t understand it. Did that story about the girl hot for her father have that much impact on me?

I became Jan’s emergency baby sitter. Over the next two years, I watched her around once every month. Just about every time I watched her, Jan would “wake up” and come to sit on my lap. We graduated from Dr. Seuss to Harry Potter, The Hobbit, and the Lord of the Rings Trilogy and then she asked me to read Twilight to her. Jan still sat on my lap. I still got a hard-on the second her little butt settled onto my lap.

Shortly after Jan’s twelfth birthday, I was watching her one night. Jan came out to see me. This time she settled gently on my lap and cuddled up against me, kissing my cheek. She whispered, “Do you think I’m pretty Uncle George?”

“No honey, you aren’t pretty, you are beautiful,” I said.

Jan smiled and kissed my lips. “Do you think I’m sexy? I think you do because you get hard every time I sit on your lap,” She said.

“Honey, you are much too young to worry about being sexy. You should think about doing well in school and getting a good education so you can get a good job someday,” I told her.

“Did you know that Philippine law says a girl is old enough to give her consent to have sex when she’s twelve?” Jan asked.

“That may be what’s written in the law, but I’ll bet the police would throw me in jail if they found out I had sex with a twelve year old girl even if she gave me permission,” I said.

“How would they find out? If a girl wants to have sex with you, why would she tell anyone if it could get you in trouble?” Jan asked.