Summer Holiday/Bob

I grew up in an orphanage. When I was small was the one who got buggered regularly by the older boys, and by the people who were supposed to be looking after us. Of course, as I grew older, I followed their example; under the respectable surface the whole place was a sexual free for all, and by the time I reached my teens, I had a well established preference for the younger girls; although if I was sharing, I was still happy to have a cock in my arse while my own was buried in a young cunt or arsehole. At sixteen years old and after ten years, in which I had rarely spent a night alone, I was sent out into the world to fend for myself.

I spent the next few years living rough in squats, where, as a reasonably good looking and sexually experienced young man, I had little difficulty finding girls (and rarely, boys) who had run away from home, some as young as ten or eleven, to share my sleeping bag. When the police raided the flat I was staying in, and found me in bed with a naked fourteen-year-old (who swore blind that we were only sharing to keep warm and that I hadn’t fucked her, twice), I realised that I was fortunate not to be arrested for statutory rape. I was a lot more careful after that and even though the occasional little nymphet ended up sharing my bed I tried to keep it as discreet as possible.

Alexei ran an illegal gambling house and I helped him out occasionally, collecting debts. Although I’m not very big, I could take care of myself and I found it fairly easy to “persuade” people to part with their money. Mary was eleven years old when I was sent round to collect some money from her father and she answered the door with her hair in a mess and wearing a tatty old nightdress that stopped halfway down her thighs.

It wasn’t a big debt, as we sat in the front room discussing payment terms while Mary made the tea. I explained how a ten percent a month interest rate worked and suggested that there might be another way to work off the debt. Dimitri was Alexei’s brother, and he made his money producing porn films, many of them involving young children, and I was always on the look-out for new actors.

"She's only eleven'" he whined. I looked round at the shabby little room and the fat slob sitting opposite and shrugged. "Okay okay," he said. The only thing Mary wanted from her home was a picture of her mother in a tarnished silver plated frame. When I picked her up, she was wearing boy's jeans with the legs cut off really short and her long fair hair was tied back in a loose ponytail.

Five years later