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M O L E S T E R    A R R E S T E D  !

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         Dear holy joe,

         I am trying to overcome my addiction to little girls.  You are not 
helping.  The other day, against my better judgement, I decided to go to 
Target to check out that Color Gear girl you talked about, in your 
Òmolester babe of the yearÓ column.
         I went early in the morning so as not to run into any children.  
Unfortunately, Target is a big store and it took me awhile to find the toy 
section, let alone the section devoted to little girlsÕ purses.
         Finally I found the purses you talked about.  There was nobody 
around, so I picked one up.  I turned it over.
         Whoa!  Instant hard on!  That is some girl you have in your contest.  
Long brown hair, a sweet smile, and I love that see-through blouse!  The 
collar on it makes it look really choice.  
         Unfortunately, like I said, I got an instant hard-on looking at her.  
Joe, IÕm a black guy.  Can you imagine what itÕs like to find yourself 
standing in the toy section of Target, holding a little girlÕs purse in your 
hand, with a giant hard-on?  As I was standing there, trying to figure out 
what to do with myself, a voice came on over the store Intercom.
         ÒAttention, Target shoppers!Ó it said.  ÒThereÕs a Target red-light 
special in the toy section!  50 percent off all little girlsÕ toys!Ó
         No sooner did the guy shut up than I heard a stampede of little feet.  
Frantically I put the purse back.  But before I could get out of there, the 
girls appeared.  You can imagine the shocked look on their faces when they 
found me standing there, in their toy section, with a big hard-on in my 
pants.
         I had no idea what to do.  I dashed around behind the far end of a row 
of shelved toys.  I kept moving, despite my hard-on sticking out, and I 
imagined every surveillance camera in the store was trained on my dick.  
Suddenly I found myself in the camping gear section.  I saw a rolled-up 
sleeping bag.  With a sudden insight I picked up the bag.  I jammed one end 
of it over my dick.  Then, as a security guard passed me, heading for the 
toy section, where I could hear some kind of a commotion going on, I made 
a run for the cash registers at the front of the store.
         Joe, did you ever go by the little girlsÕ clothing section at Target?  
Unfortunately, I did.  They have some gorgeous posters of little girls in 
the girlsÕ clothing section, Joe.  Big posters.  I got so aroused that I 
suddenly felt a wetness in my pants.
         Yes, you guessed it.  I ejaculated in that sleeping bag I was holding 
over my dick.  There I stood, in Target, my dick in a rolled-up sleeping bag.  
I could see white stuff starting to leak out one end of the bag.
         What to do?  Fortunately for some reason I remembered a pictorial I 
had seen in Playboy, of a girl pouring milk over herself.  I always liked 
that pictorial, because it made me feel like I was shooting sperm on her.  I 
saw somebody carrying milk.  (This was at one of the new Target 
Superstores, that sells groceries as well as dry goods.)  Realizing 
suddenly what I could do, I ran around the store until I found the milk 
section.  I kept my sleeping bag in front of me, of course.  When I found the 
milk section I dropped a bottle, making sure it hit me on the way to the 
floor.
         Well, I got out of that store, Joe.  I had to pay for the milk, but they 
didnÕt make me buy the sleeping bag, even though IÕd spilled ÒmilkÓ all 
over it.  Unfortunately outside I ran into a little boy and he was playing 
cowboys, I guess, because he told me I was under arrest.  I was so 
frazzled I actually believed him for a moment.  Then I realized he was just 
some kid and I told him to go away.
         Joe, I see a psychiatrist on a regular basis for my addiction to little 
girls.  He says my encounter with the little boy, who tried to arrest me, is 
my SuperEgoÕs way of telling me that I need to better control my desires.
         I am trying, Joe.  I admit at one time I was trying to get into the 
Guiness Book of World Records, as the holder of the Most Children 
Molested title, but IÕm over that now.  I am striving hard to make myself a 
decent member of our society.  Please, if you are going to write about 
something, write about women.  I realize they are boring but at least I 
wonÕt wind up in Target looking at little girlsÕ purses if you write about 
them.

         Sincerely,

         Dick Johnson

         

         Dear Dick,

         Did you know there was once a famous woman in Hollywood, a 
clothing designer, named Edith Head?  I guess you are glad you donÕt share 
her last name.
         As for your request, I have decided to follow your advice, or at least 
part of it.  From now on I will only write about girls in Antarctica.

(story:  icebound)

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Copyright 2001 by Andrew Roller.