Date: Mon, 16 Dec 2019 08:46:23 -0800 From: Misty Meadow Subject: Underage - really? Underage; Really? By Misty Meadow Last year I bought a used computer at a stall in the Portobello Road street market in West London. I asked the seller if it was in working order and he replied, in his cockney accent, "If it don't, Missus, just bring it back and you'll get your money back." I chose to believe him and sure enough, when I got home, plugged it in and booted it up, it worked like a charm. I ran through all its functions and everything worked perfectly. But I was in for a surprise. When I clicked on the "file" icon and opened "pictures", my jaw dropped. There were just six of them, the most amazing photographs I'd ever seen. They were all of a young girl, about twelve or thirteen, not merely naked, but flaunting her cunt shamelessly, with a dazzling smile on her face. They'd been cleverly shot with good lighting. Whoever had sold the PC to the cockney stallholder had omitted to delete them. Not that I was complaining. I'd been attracted to young girls ever since I was a young girl in primary school, at which uniforms were required, so we wore skirts, unlike today's state schools where the girls wear jeans and leggings, alas. I watched in the playground as they did handstands, cartwheels and hung upside down from the monkey bars, showing off their white cotton knickers and I was quite sure that some of the displays were deliberately performed for the boys, but nobody noticed how intently I watched. As I grew older, my sexual fantasies always centred on those sweet little preteen darlings who'd been so "careless" about showing off their underwear. You might want to call me a paedophile, but I'm not a predator; I'd never, ever do anything to a girl unless she was not only willing, but eager to engage. Have I ever crossed the line with an underage girl? Not as an adult, no, but as a preteen, well, yes, but I'll leave that to your imagination. Now, about those six pictures: the age of consent in the UK is sixteen. Obviously they constituted child porn and I was aware of the severe penalties for possession of such material, but was loathe to delete them. They were quite extraordinary. She didn't just stand meekly in front of the camera, she posed in the most lascivious and lewd poses imaginable. The first showed her sitting in an armchair, her splayed knees draped over the arms, her cunt front and centre, and in the second she was on hands and knees with her back to the camera, her bum elevated to show both orifices as she smiled sweetly over her shoulder. The third shot showed her lying on her back, her legs up by her chest, offering her bum hole to the viewer and in the fourth she sat on a kitchen counter, her feet up by her bum, her thighs parted invitingly, her face a picture of joy. The fifth picture portrayed her lying on her back on a bed, her legs spread, pulling her cunt lips open with her fingers and the last one was the most erotic, showing her with another girl, sitting on the floor, one behind the other. Little could be seen of the girl in the rear except her lovely, happy face, but our subject was in front, leaning back against her friend, her legs spread as wide as they'd go, pulled apart by the other girl's hands under her knees. Her facial expression was the most excited of all the pictures. It was undeniable that she was willing, eager and enthusiastic to show of her most private parts quite shamelessly. She was devoid of pubic hair and had tiny budding breasts. She certainly hadn't reached puberty. I looked at them all, slowly scrolling through them several times, then I put my hand down the front of my knickers, thrust my fingers up my cunt and masturbated until I came in an explosion of pure lust. I downloaded the pictures to a USB stick and deleted them from the computer. I decided to ration myself. Anything of beauty, whether a work of art, a scenic view, or a single rose will become ordinary if looked at for long enough. I didn't want to get "porn fatigue", so I decided that viewing once a week would keep them fresh. Sunday mornings would be good; I could lie in and have the time to enjoy the "artwork". But two days into the first week, my resolve crumbled and I slipped the USB stick into my handbag as I left for work. All morning I thought about "my" girl as I waited for lunchtime when the office would be empty. When the coast was clear, I locked my office door, plugged the stick into my office PC, gazed longingly at the object of my infatuation and fingered myself to another crashing climax. The next day, I was arrested. They came for me at the office, fortunately at lunch time when there were no witnesses to my humiliation. I was taken to a police station and charged with possession of child pornography, namely six photographs of a naked underage girl. I said nothing, called a lawyer and later was released on bail. _______________________ The lawyer knew what she was doing. She used the discovery process to obtain copies of all six pictures and looked at them closely for a little longer than was strictly necessary. "Who is she?" she asked me. "I've no idea. The pictures were already on a PC that I bought second hand. I put them on a USB stick and deleted them from my PC, but then I made the mistake of taking the stick to the office and like a fucking idiot, left it stuck in my office computer." "Yes, the police said the cleaning lady was dusting your desk, wiped your keyboard and your computer woke up with a naked nymphet on the screen. She called the cops right away. You were incredibly careless." I hung my head in shame, not because of my sexual predilection, but for my stupidity. She looked through the print-outs a second time. "I have to admit, she's pretty fucking sexy, Misty, and seems so happy." "If she'd looked at all reluctant, I'd have instantly deleted them. It's her obvious joy that's the main attraction." "Well, I think we can beat this," she said and outlined her strategy. ___________________ Here's what she did. She sent emails to half a dozen theatrical agencies, saying that she was casting a small part for an independent movie and needed a girl who was over sixteen, but looked younger, the younger the better. The actress would be needed for only a single day, and would the agency kindly send portfolios of suitable candidates. The pay would be generous if the right girl could be found. The response was gratifying. More than sixty portfolios were mailed, emailed or faxed, featuring delightfully pretty young looking girls, all with their details, including their dates of birth. We selected twenty of the youngest looking and emailed them directly. We explained she'd appear in a scene shot in a real courtroom, in which she'd be questioned by lawyers. There would be only a few lines and the pay would be a thousand pounds plus travel expenses and the cost of an overnight stay if required. They all wanted the part. We selected the ten youngest looking and emailed them with the true story, admitting that it was a real trial and they would asked only to testify as to the age at which their portfolios had been shot. Cross examination would be unlikely. Four of them declined, but the remaining six, all looking like preteens, were enough. We made all the arrangements and waited for a trial date. ______________________ In the UK, a lawyer plans the defense, working with a barrister who argues the case in the courtroom. The prosecution made its case. Six child pornography pictures had been accidentally discovered by the cleaning lady and a police officer described how they'd been found on my computer. Copies were provided to all concerned. Possession was possession and against the law. It looked like an open and shut case. Then the defense opened. We didn't bother with the lame sounding explanation that the material was already on a second hand PC. We offered, as defense exhibits one through six, pictures of our witnesses. Copies were given to the prosecution, the judge and members of the jury, who were asked to look at them and estimate their ages. Then, one by one, the witnesses entered the witness box, took the oath and my barrister asked their age at the time of the photograph. They'd all been over sixteen. I could see the amazement on the faces of the jury. One unusually young looking witness might not have swayed them, but seeing six of them in a row had the desired affect. In his summing up, my barrister claimed that the identity of the alleged "victim" was unknown and therefore it was impossible to determine her exact age, any more than the jury had been able to guess the ages of our witnesses. The jury returned after twenty minutes and declared me not guilty. It was six thousand quid well spent. I shook the hands of my legal team and outside the courtroom, thanked my witnesses. They'd had a very profitable day and I was a free woman. __________________ I went back to the Portobello Road street market and found the stallholder was still there. "Remember me?" I asked, "I bought a used PC from you a few weeks of months ago." "Yeah, I remember. Any trouble with it?" "No, it works perfectly, but I need to know from whom you bought it." He looked suspicious. "Why? "There was a file left on it that the previous owner may need. I just want to get it back to him." I waved a fifty pound note just out of his reach. "I sold it for Arnie, my brother-in-law." He took the fifty and gave me the address, in Shepherd's Bush, a short tube ride away and I knocked on the door. A guy opened it. "Arnie?" I asked. "I'm Misty. I bought your computer from your brother-in-law's stall and you left a file on it." "Wot file?" he asked, his cockney accent as strong as the stall holder's. "I didn't leave nuffin' on it." I pulled out a copy of the Evening Standard and showed him the report of my trial. He read through it. Then I showed him copies of the pictures. "Fuck! I thought I'd deleted all that shit. Sorry about that, darlin'. You better come in." "Not a problem. I just want to know who the girl is." "Why should I tell you?" "Because, as you might've guessed, I have a thing for young girls." I pulled out another fifty and held it up. He grinned, revealing nicotine stained teeth. "So you're a dyke, then?" "I prefer to be called a lesbian, or gay, and I was wondering if you have any more pictures of her." 'Fraid not. She's my niece, Delila. I took those pictures six mumfs ago. She's still twelve. Wanna meet her?" My face told him the answer. He grabbed the fifty and called upstairs. "Delila, there's a bird down 'ere who wants to meet you." A few seconds later she walked into the room. Oh, my God, I thought, she's even sexier in the flesh. "'Ello," she said, her cockney accent like her uncle's. "I'm Misty. I'd like you to read this." I showed her the newspaper article. She read through it and laughed. "I'm famous!" she said, proudly. "And anonymous. No one knows who you are except Arnie and me, and I'm never going to tell anyone. I just want you to know that going through the trauma and expense of the trial was worth it, just to be able to look at these pictures. You're the sexiest girl I've ever seen in my life." "Expense? 'Ow much?" "With lawyers fees, close to ten thousand quid." She looked at me with new respect. "It were 'er idea," her uncle said. "Even the poses were dreamed up by 'er. She loves showing of 'er cunt, don't you, darling? Don't get me wrong, Misty, I'm not a paedo, I just took the pictures 'cos she wanted me to." "So oo's seen them?" Delila asked. "Me, a few lawyers, the judge and the jury. The press never got to see them and they couldn't publish them anyway." "Shit! So I'm not famous. I wanted my uncle to put them on the internet, but he wouldn't." "For obvious reasons. Arnie's in the clear, and so are we. I've been acquitted and they don't prosecute young girls because they think of you as a victim." "Victim?" she snorted, derisively, "I ain't no fuckin' victim. I'm a super model. One day I'm gonna be a porn star or a stripper, both maybe." "And you'll be very successful, I'm sure," I said, sincerely. "I could help in that regard. How would you feel about me taking more pictures of you and create a portfolio for some talent agencies?" "Wot's a portfolio?" "A collection of pictures, facials and full length, for casting directors to see how beautiful you are. You could get serious acting parts." "Fuckin' A!" she cried. I looked at her uncle, who shrugged. "Ain't nuffin' to do with me. Just keep my name out of it." I reassured him that his privacy would be respected. "Where do you want to take the pictures?" Delila asked. "I have a flat in Chelsea, overlooking the river. It has nice big rooms." "You're posh, then?" She looked at her uncle. "I've got myself a sugar mummy." He laughed. "Good luck, kiddo. When do you wanna do 'em?" "Now would be good," Delila said, eagerly. I nodded my head. "Do I need to bring any clothes, undies and stuff?" "Anything we need, we can go up to the West End and buy it." She kissed her uncle on the cheek and I took her hand and we left. We took a taxi to Selfridges in Oxford Street and bought a tasteful dress, a variety of sexy underwear (including a three pack of those white cotton knickers that had so excited me as a girl) and a swimsuit, then proceeded to my flat. Through my big picture window, the sun reflected off the Thames, turning its muddy brown to glistening silver. Delila was suitably impressed by the size of my apartment. "First thing we have to do is put you in the shower," I said. "I want you to feel clean as well as look it, and then a touch of perfume will make you feel sexy." "I don't need no fuckin' perfume to feel sexy," she said, peeling her dress over her head. "I feel sexy all the time." In just her knickers, she looked like everything a lesbian like me could possibly want. Her tits were still just tiny swellings, though her nipples had grown a little. My heart raced as she pulled her knickers down and stepped out of them. Her prominent mound, bisected by its vertical slit was still devoid of hair. "Where's the bathroom?" I showed her. "Aren't you gonna come in with me, then?" My gut churned with excitement. "We can shower together. Get your togs off." My heart was pounding as she watched me undress. She held the shower door open, indicating that I should step in, and she followed me. She inspected the row of bath products on the little shelf, selected a body wash and l watched as she lathered her body all over. "Do my back," she demanded and I had the exquisite pleasure of soaping her back and bum cheeks. "My turn now," she said, facing me and squirting gel on my chest. My excitement mounted as she covered my tits in suds and then her hand went down between my legs as she pretended to wash my cunt. Two fingers slid into me as she gazed into my eyes. I put my arms round her, pulled her close and pressed my mouth to hers. The tip of her tongue gently probed between my lips, hinting of things to come. On the one hand, I wanted to ravish her right there in the shower, but beds are more comfortable, so I pulled away. "I want to see you try on your new undies," I said. We rinsed off, toweled ourselves dry and went back into the living room to inspect our shopping. The first item was the one piece bathing suit, a necessity for a portfolio. I took a couple of pictures using my expensive digital camera that would give us superb definition, then watched as she peeled the bathing suit down her body and stepped out of it. Having got that out of the way, we went through our more interesting purchases, lacy knickers, some plainer but deliciously sheer, a translucent chemise, a camisole top and best of all, a matching set comprising white stockings, a suspender belt, a tiny bra and a pair of knickers that were not much more than a thong. I left the aforementioned white cotton schoolgirl knickers in their packet.. "Now, about the poses," I said. "I'm hoping for something as good as the pictures that got me into all that trouble." I found them in my desk drawer and spread them out for her inspection. "Pretty fuckin' 'ot, ain't I? Which one d'you like the best?" I indicated the one featuring the second girl pulling Delila's legs apart, drawing the viewer's attention directly on to her cunt. "Who's the other girl?" I asked. "That's Monica. She's a year ahead of me at school. She likes 'aving 'er picture taken, too. Problem is, finding the right person who'll do it and not tell anyone." "Well, now you've got me, and given my legal troubles, you can be certain of my discretion. Do you have her phone number? If you invited her over, do you think . . ." "Like a shot! Gimme your phone." Monica, I learned, was more than eager to have a portfolio produced and naked shots of her wouldn't be out of the question. I took over the phone, gave her directions and told her I'd pay for the taxi. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes," she said. We started the photo shoot, beginning with Delila in pair of white nylon boy shorts with lace round the legs and a matching top, covered by the chemise. I kept shooting as she slowly and provocatively stripped. Clearly, she'd practiced this before. I squeezed in a couple of shots of her naked, before she pulled the stockings on, fastened the suspenders, put on the bra and pulled her knickers up. They were translucent enough for her cunt to be visible. She offered herself in a variety of poses, then took her knickers off. "I like showing off my cunt," she said. "No shit," I murmured. The doorbell buzzed and I threw on a dress and went downstairs to let Monica in. I payed the taxi off and led her upstairs. When she saw Delila dressed so seductively, she laughed. "You fuckin' slut," she said, her cockney accent as pronounced as Delila's. "Can't wait to air your cunt, can you?" Delila grinned. Monica turned to me. "I suppose you're a lez, then?" I told her I was and that I was especially attracted to young girls. "I'm thirteen. Is that young enough?" I nodded my head and then, to my delight, she lifted the front of her dress to reveal white knickers quite like the ones we'd bought. I had the presence of mind to take a quick picture before her dress dropped. "Show me yours, then," she demanded and I lifted my dress high on my chest. "Fuck me! No knickers at all! You're just as bad as Delila!" Her eyes were big and bright. "And you've shaved your cunt. We don't like cunt hair, do we, Dell?" That remark hinted at encounters they might've had with other adult women. I peeled my dress off. "Nice tits," Monica observed, "not like my Mum's. They droop. Who wants droopy tits?" "Get naked, Monica," Delila said. "Let Misty take some pictures." In less time than it takes to tell, Monica was buck naked. Her tits, though slightly bigger than Delila's where still nowhere fully developed, but her cunt had real lips and I could see her clit. Her mound was cleanly shaved. She was just as eager as her friend to be photographed and I took half a dozen quickies as she posed as provocatively as Delila had in the "court" pictures. I suggested shooting them both together. "Like a pair of lezzies?" Monica asked, her grin matched by Delila's. Without waiting for an answer, they embraced and kissed, then, to my delight, reproduced that one-behind-the-other shot that has so excited me, except this time, Delila was sitting behind, holding Monica's legs as wide as they'd go and their smiles were as bright as ever. They sat side by side on my couch, Delila's thigh draped across Monica's, their knees wide apart, happily flaunting their cunts. Delila spent a few happy minutes sucking on Monica's nipples, all carefully recorded by me, then she went down on her, pressing her mouth to her cunt, her tongue working furiously. After a dozen or more shots, they reversed positions and now Monica was licking Delila like an experienced lesbian. I was capturing a huge collection of the best porn imaginable, but I had one last wish. I broke open the three-pack of schoolgirl knickers and asked them to put them on. I framed the picture carefully as they stood, each with a hand down the front of the other's knickers. I could see their fingers at work through the white cotton. "Fuck me!" Monica said breathlessly, "I'm so turned on. I could cum any minute!" "Me, too," Delila affirmed, her face flushed. "Hey, Misty, why don't you put the third pair of knickers on and we can all pose together." I put them on, set the camera's timer and stood with my arms round their shoulders. The flash went off, then we did another one, this time with our knickers at mid thigh, our cunts in full view. Finally, we all got naked again. For the next half hour, they tried on the items of underwear that I'd bought, always presenting themselves lewdly until I had close to a hundred pictures any one of which could've landed me in jail. "Wot now?" Delila asked during a pause. "We need to thank Misty," said Monica, "and guess how we're gonna do it?" "I think I know," Delila said. "Get those knickers off, Misty and sit on the couch. Okay, lean back and spread 'em." The both shoved at each other, vying to be the first to attack my cunt. Monica won and Delila took over the camera as my cunt was furiously licked, my clit sucked and my bum hole fingered. Then they swapped places and I was treated to a second round of adoration. It seemed my cunt excited them just as much as theirs aroused me. After my third orgasm, I stopped counting. When we were all pretty exhausted, I got to my feet and dressed the girls for their portfolios, all perfectly respectable, in dresses and in the swimsuit, with several close up facials. I typed up their profiles on my computer and assembled it all into two folders. I added the list of agencies my lawyer and I had contacted, so they could sent their portfolios out. "You can keep the undies," I said. "You can decide between yourselves who gets what. If you ever want more sexy lingerie, just call my and we can go shopping up the West End." "You're one cool lady, Misty," said Delila. "Fuckin' 'ot, more like," Monica. ____________________ Months have rolled by. Monica has landed a few small roles on television and one feature movie. Dialogue coaches have cleaned up her cockney accent and she's on track for a real acting career. Delila is still in school, of course, still determined to be a stripper or a porn star when she's got her GCSE's, and I wish her well. I know she'll be a huge success. The end.