Any normal man would have found a way to strike up a conversation with a girl if he liked her enough. The trouble was that Stan Fogel was not a normal man and his taste in girls was far from normal. Despite the fact that he had never acted on the wild impulses that drove him to frustration, Stan Fogel was a paedophile. He was well aware that he would almost certainly risk arrest if he struck up a conversation with girls of the age that he was interested in, which meant that, apart from two abortive attempts with women of his own generation, all of his sexual activity was confined to his imagination and his right hand.

After years of standing at his bedroom window, masturbating as he stared avidly at the young girls innocently running and playing in the park, it looked as if this time he had really hit lucky. All of his dreams and fantasies, of what he would do if ever he managed to summon up the nerve to approach one of the tempting little girls, were about to come true.

He could hardly believe his luck when he had spotted the pretty little girl with the older boy. She was exactly what he had always dreamed and fantasised about. Even from his bedroom window, several hundred yards away, his powerful binoculars made it obvious that she was stunningly pretty. Her fair skin was smooth and flawless and her tiny body was just beginning to show the developing curves which meant that she would soon be too old to interest him. At this precise moment though, she was at the peak of perfect freshness and innocence. She had the air of naivete about her, which meant that, in Fogel's eyes, she was exactly ripe for plucking. She was slim and no more than four and a half feet tall. Her pretty young face was framed by blonde shoulder length hair, which swirled about her face when she moved. He watched her slim legs bend and straighten as she tried to set the heavy swing into motion, feeling his penis stiffen rapidly at the sight. Fogel gasped with pleasure as the little girl's tempting young knees separated and spread wide as she tried to kick the swing into action. In his mind, he imagined that she was opening her legs for him - teasing and flirting with him - allowing him tantalising glimpses of her but never quite revealing all that he wanted to see.

He was almost disappointed when the older boy began to help her, except that what he saw next turned his lustful fantasy about the young girl into an overpowering urge to possess her. He watched, almost forgetting to breathe in his excitement, as the older boy pushed the pretty little youngster on the swing. He fell instantly in love with her innocent smile - a sweet careless smile that showed a flash of perfect white teeth each time her tender young lips parted. His penis hardened painfully as he watched the boy's hands stroking the smooth flesh of her legs. He waited with bated breath for each return of the swing and he was not disappointed. Each time the swing arced downwards, carrying its precious little cargo of sweet innocence, the boy's hands moved a little higher on the child's thighs......(cont)