It was my volunteer night at the homeless shelter when I saw her in a corner, the darkest one in the room. As I walked her way to make her welcome, since I’ve never seen her before, she seemed to shrink as if to hide. My greeting was not responded to. Peering out of the shadowy hoodie was a Hispanic face with a very dark skin color. I went to get one of our translators.

Martina, who was also a social worker whom I had known for many years, was a big help. The girl, at least that was our consensus, had just wandered in a short while ago. No English and a very rural flavor of Mexican. Hungry but couldn’t keep food down. When asked if she had a place to stay she shook her head. Martina looked at me and said they were already full for the night.

I asked if there was anything I could do. She replied that this little one had not been registered in their system yet so could I take her home and bring her back tomorrow? I gulped and said yes. Martina explained this to the so-far nameless one.

She followed me docilely to my car and got in. We could not communicate verbally so gesturing had to work.

When we got to my house I made her a fruit smoothie which she attacked. So far, so good. It seemed to stay down. Her clothes were dirty and in bad shape so I took her to the shower in the guest room. She just stared at me as I tried to indicate she should get clean.

I guessed that she was maybe twelve years old. Skinny and not very tall either. Martina said the girl, that had been confirmed, didn’t know how old she was or where she was from. A man had dropped her off near the shelter when she started throwing up all the time. That started two weeks earlier.

I’d helped raise my daughters so was not at a total loss. BTW, I’m just over fifty and a widower for a year due to breast cancer. Anyway, I finally turned on the water and started to take her clothes off. She got the idea and finished the job, not at all embarrassed to be naked in front of me. Early adolescence, I guessed. A bit of pubic hair, small early breasts, and a very dirty and unkempt mane on top,

I left her to get clean, put her clothes in the washer, and found a log t-shirt for her to wear.

When I got back to the bathroom she was obviously enjoying the experience. She exited the shower and just stood there, naked and dripping. I grabbed a towel but no response so I began toweling her. Now this was not at all what I was prepared for. I’m not dead so I did feel a swelling “down there”. She noticed and I got the first hint of a smile on that dark face.

I was more comfortable when she had the shirt on and I made another smoothie before I took her to the guest room. She looked around in amazement. It had been one of my grown daughter’s room and was very feminine. I tucked her in and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. She smiled again.

In the middle of the night I was awakened by an unaccustomed sensation. Someone was in my bed and plastered up against my back. She was sobbing quietly so I turned to put my arms around her. I sleep nude usually but had put on boxer shorts “just in case”. She calmed down and we slept.

Was it a dream? My wife had enjoyed waking me sometimes with a hand exploring my manhood, teasing it big with gentle stroking so she could have fun with it in a variety of ways. Mine is pretty average in size but she seemed quite pleased with it. Of course I had missed that.

Could it be this child? I flashed awake and it sure was. She was fondling me rather expertly I thought. Although it was about to set off a boner-blast, I gently removed her hand from my crotch and shook my head “No”. She seemed disappointed but cooperated.

After another smoothie for her and breakfast for me, and we went shopping. Her clothes, although now clean, were in ruins. We went to Walmart where I found a Spanish speaking associate in the girls’ department to get her fitted with new clothes from top to bottom: a loose top, no bra because she refused it, jeans, sport shoes.

Our next stop was my high school friend, an obstetrician who worked us into his busy schedule. He did the exam and took some lab samples. His nurse explained to a very scared youngster what was going on. We picked up two prescriptions on the way out.

One was to calm her stomach so we waited for that to take effect before going to the best Mexican restaurant in town. The second was an antibiotic for the chlamydia the lab had found. My friend told me she had vaginal abrasions from rough intercourse, and was approximately two months pregnant. He agreed with our assessment of her age. She didn’t know.

With food staying in her belly, we next went to the shelter. Martina hugged the waif and we talked. I filled her in on the basics of her care so far, but not about some of the very personal interactions.

The two of them chatted for a while and then I got a report. Martina told me that her name was Iza and she felt safe with me and wanted me to “keep her”. She been sold by her impoverished parents to a human trafficker, smuggled into the US and men had done what they wanted to her for a while, maybe six months based on the seasons. Martina wanted to talk more with her but didn’t have enough time right now.

“Could you come for dinner and stay to talk to her” I asked.

Martina agreed and I gave her my address. I’d asked Martina for a date about six months ago but she sweetly declined, saying she had a steady boyfriend, but she’d let me know if that changed. We continued to become even better friends.

On our way home, Iza said in such a heavy accent she had to repeat several times, “Me Eeenglesh?” I figured out she wanted to learn my language. Lord knows I’d never learn hers. I nodded and she smiled, something that was happening more often.

When we started exploring her vocabulary it was almost entirely vulgar and four letter words. She’d learned some work phrases such as, “You like fuck?” and “Blow job?”

I downloaded a translation program and a Spanish test-to speech so communication would be at least one-way. She’d apparently had little schooling in her rural area.

She laughed at the computer voice but caught on to what I was trying to do. I was blindly trying to become an ESL teacher. It did give us something to do until Martina arrived. Oh, she was some help in the kitchen as I fixed dinner but was unfamiliar with anything but the most basic implements.

Martina spent a long time with her and after we put her to bed I got the report. Martina summarized that she was better off with me and out of the “system” for the time being. Since she was not at work what she was about to tell me was off the record. “You can expect her to want sex with you when she is healed. In spite of her young age, she is used to it and will get as horny as any other young woman. I can’t tell you how to deal with this nor will I tell you to hurt her feelings. It is also the only way she has to thank you for helping her. I can advise her about the need for complete confidentiality because of her age though.”

I had a few other questions and Martina said she would like to come to dinner once a week to do a “foster home inspection”. I told her to plan on it.

So when I wasn’t working, I was teaching English and cooking and other household skills to my new charge. She slept snuggled to me in her t-shirt but didn’t make any sexual advances. I did notice her rubbing herself during the night though.

At the first weekly visit, Iza asked Martina when she could fuck me. It had to get translated, of course. She was told to finish her medicine. That was four days away. She was also told about keeping anything them might happen between us completely private, that is if I agreed to let anything happen. Martina said she didn’t know if I would do things like that or not.

The night the pills were finished there was no t-shirt a bedtime, only a young girl asking, “You fuck me, pleeze?”

When I tried to not respond, she put on hand into my boxers and her other one took one of mine to her damp vulva. She kept cooing, “In me pleeze?” When she bent down and gave me expert oral attention, I was a goner. She got a small mouthful and sat up smiling happily, then bent back over had got me hard again. Pushing me over on my back, she hopped on what she had produced.

She’d learned a lot in a relatively few months, that was for sure. She pulled my hands to her small breasts with their hard nipples and squeaked with pleasure as I did what I thought might feel good to her. I rubbed her small belly bump and fingered her clit and she hummed with pleasure.

She rode me hard, determined to get me off, it seemed, and when she felt my warmth inside she smiled and bent down to kiss me hard on the lips. “You good!” was her comment. She laid her small body on my chest and kept kissing me. After our breathing slowed down she asked, “More?” I shook my head and she seemed disappointed. I pointed to my watch and gestured, trying to convey “Later”. I needed to recover. She finally got it and rolled off.

I was so surprised when she used her mouth to clean the juices off my shriveled organ. I guess that what whores were expected to do. The thoughts of her recent past were on my mind as I drifted off to sleep.

More oral action in the middle of the night got me a chance to ride on her the next time. Shit, I’d not been laid twice in a week, let alone the same night, in decades.

If I hadn’t had to work, I’d have been screwed far more than the three or four times a day she wanted to be, and got, laid. Martina laughed when I told her that her predictions hadn’t been accurate enough. It reminded her of her urges at that age but she hadn’t acted on them until much older. She didn’t volunteer any more details.

Iza watched TV to pick up on English and got to understanding it a lot better than she could speak. Our sex life had settled to a morning and bedtime romp, and, if a day I was home at the time, an early afternoon coupling. My “rusty” organ quickly developed better responsiveness and endurance. I think my prostate was more productive too.

I’d been hosting Iza for about three months and her belly was definitely swollen when Martina called off-schedule and wanted to see me. “Of course. Come over when you can.”

A glass of wine brought tears and she explained in English and Spanish that her boyfriend had suddenly dumped her for another woman he’d been cheating with. She was devastated, thinking he might marry her. Iza listened and offered some simple advice in her simple English, “You give her good fuck now. She need.”

Martina and I looked at each other. A grin broke out on her tear-stained face and she nodded. Iza took our hands and led us to my bedroom. “You have good time. I wait.”

The light-brown-skinned beauty was hungry for me. Her full, womanly figure was much more like my late wife’s than my current bed-partner. Her skills were excellent and her desire intense. She murmured that she’d been attracted to me for a long time but only slept with one man at a time. I learned later that she and her boyfriend had been fighting for more than a week. She needed to burn off that frustration as well as the anger and sadness of the breakup.

When things quieted down, Iza joined us. She was smiling and snuggled her naked body up to my other side, reaching for my crotch to make sure I was well satisfied. Martina laughed, “You have every man’s dream now, it seems. Can you keep up with it?” I said I didn’t know but I’d work my “hardest”.

Even Iza caught that one, so she leaned down and cleaned my cock just like when it had been in her. Martina murmured that was hot!

The women worked out a schedule so I wouldn’t be killed with kindness. Martina didn’t stay after her romps in my bed although we did take time to talk before she left. Iza usually left us alone since she could have me most anytime. Martina was her only female friend and sometimes they’d talk after she left me sleeping in bed.

I learned that Martina was a virgin until her engagement to a childhood friend. The marriage lasted five years when they just drifted apart. He was transferred away and she didn’t want to leave her family. She had screwed him a few times when he came back to the area but he remarried. A series of short and long term boyfriends had kept her reasonably satisfied since then. Her biological clock kept ticking, and her culture also reminded her of motherhood. She just hadn’t found the right man.

When Iza was eight months along, she began having intermittent cramps. After two days she told me the baby wasn’t moving any more. A call to my friend got her promptly to the clinic where labor was induced and a stillborn fetus removed.

Martina was there by then and we stayed with her until she woke up. After the explanation of what had happened, Iza had no tears, “I did not want it. I would give it away. Not made from love so this best.” She never shed a tear that we saw.

She was on birth control before we resumed intercourse. The very first time we did, she said, “I want YOUR baby.” That was never repeated and it took quite some time before her real enthusiasm for taking my seed returned.

Martina and I wrestled with her undocumented status. I was home schooling her but that wouldn’t be enough. What could we do? I started going through my connections to find an immigration attorney and Martina looked into schooling.

We found a private school that wasn’t fussy about documentation, and had ESL and catch-up classes. Iza was enrolled and received lots of counseling from Martina to prepare for this new experience. She clung to me in the night, scared. I went with her the next morning and stayed until she had relaxed a bit. The many Spanish speaking and smiling faces helped a lot. When I picked her up she had lots to share with me. Some older boys had made a point to greet this new girl too and she felt good.

She reported that a few boys would be sure to talk to her every day. Her pregnancy had enlarged her breasts and hips so she appeared much older than she actually was. Her maturity level was much higher too so guys in their later teens were hitting on her. She loved the attention and said so as we screwed. She might have been fantasizing that I was one or more of them but she didn’t say that.

One boy, Carlos, became her ESL tutor and got to know her better. She introduced us one day when I attended a school function. I was always presented as a foster parent peer Martina’s advice.

When Carlos asked her for a date she wasn’t sure what to do so we had a “family” council. We all agreed that some socializing with peers and school mates was good but she should keep it platonic. That took some explaining and she wasn’t sure why but accepted our advice.

When she returned home from the first one she attacked me, saying Carlo’s name as she orgasmed, then was embarrassed. I reassured her that it was normal. That pattern was repeated several more times until the night she came home after a date and wore a t-shirt to bed.