On the fourth day, the front desk rang my room as I was preparing to embark on another day of hornet nest stirring."Mr. Winchell?" Yes." There is a ge...tleman here from the Ministry of National Defense who wishes to speak with you. I shall send him up right away."It's a good thing I wanted to see the guy. From the tone of the desk clerk's voice, he was probably quaking in his boots. I'd just about bet the guy was on his way before the clerk called.Sure enough, it was barely a minute after I hung. It was supposed to happen when she was older, old enough. It was supposed to be fun, exciting, and beautiful.And it was supposed to be with Paul.With that thought the eight-year-old broke for the door.And no I haven’t written the rest. Some in the middle and the very end, but not all the sexually abusive details. I couldn’t post those details here anyway and, this time at least, I don’t mind Rule 7. You see, if I can’t post it I don’t have to write it, and it isn’t something I would enjoy. This film was one I'd taken of myself, showing me walking along the country lane that ran past the front of my house, with me made up as Suzy in a shoulder-length black wig, wearing nothing but a lacy black ½ cup bra and matching suspender-belt, with black lace-top nylons and high-heels, my erect cock jutting upwards and swinging from side to side as it slapped against my nylon-clad thighs! The next shot showed me walking off the lane and into a recessed gateway, where I leant back against the. Paul bent down to engulf her mouth with his own. Each tongue lashed the other. He dropped his hands to her buttocks to clutch them, and then ran his hands the length of her slender back, digging his fingers into every muscle in his path. Glenda reached down to capture his manhood in her small, warm hand, which brought a groan of pleasure from him. Paul reached down grasp her bottom again. This time he lifted her. Glenda threw her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. Paul.