Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. So here's a story. I live in a small dormitory town just outside the M25 ring road. In Greater London, in other words, although what's great about it I sometimes fail to see. I have a loving wife, a twelve-year-old daughter (Laura) and an eight-year-old son (James). Laura is quite sexy, if a father can say that about his own kid. Her friends are INSANELY sexy. I don't remember twelve-year-olds looking like that when I was growing up - like scaled-down women with all the sensuality and allure intact. A few years back, when Laura was nine, I stopped denying the truth and accepted that I'm a pedophile. That acceptance led to some very interesting adventures online as I discovered the dark web and the excellent kiddie porn that's available there. But I never committed a sexual assault against a child until recently, and even now I don't think anyone is ever going to realise what I did or come after me. It was at a party for Laura's schoolfriend, Alison. Alison is utterly gorgeous - a slender blonde with tiny but nicely formed tits and enormous blue eyes. I've perved after her for years, and I'm far from the only one. A few months back my friend Pete confided that he thinks of Alison when he's shagging his wife. "Obviously Elaine's cunt isn't a bit like Alison's would be," he went on. "It's pretty slack these days. So I imagine I'm screwing Alison in the mouth, choking her with my dick. With my eyes closed I can make it work. I supply the gagging noises in my head." Anyway, Alison turned twelve last month, and a whole bunch of us took our daughters to the party. It was a pool party, so Alison was parading herself around in a tiny micro-bikini that was pretty sheer. After she'd been in the water once the lips of her twat were very much on show, and the dads were using furniture and found objects to hide their massive hard-ons. After about an hour of ogling that slit, and that lovely little arse, I felt like my cock was about to explode like a popped zit. I had to do something to relieve the pressure. So I went into the kitchen, found some orange juice and poured out half a glass. Then I unzipped my flies, took out my cock and had a wank. It didn't take long at all for me to reach my climax - all I had to do was to call on recent, vivid memories - and when I did I shot my spunk into the glass. While I was stirring it in, Pete came into the room. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed when he saw my wilting stiffie. "What the fuck are you doing, John?" "It's for Alison," I confided. I held up the glass. "I just blew a load in here, and I'm going to go out and give it to her. I want to see her drink my cum." Pete laughed incredulously. Then he looked furtively around and whipped his cock out. In no time he was stroking his massive cock over the glass. When he came it was in a series of viscous squirts that plopped down into the glass with audible splats. But we were interrupted again before Pete could put his dick away, by Martin and Brian, two guys we only know to say hello to. I was inclined to lie, but Pete came right out and said we were fixing a special drink for the birthday girl. "I'm in!" Brian said straight away. And soon both guys were wanking furiously over the glass. The crowd in the kitchen got bigger, but it stayed male. After they'd come, Brian and Martin spread the word around the dads, and one by one they all came in to add their contributions. Meanwhile a little honour guard stood outside and deflected any kids or mums who wandered along. By the time we'd finished, fifteen men had ejaculated into the glass and there was considerably more spunk in there than there was orange juice. I got a spoon and mixed it all in, then wiped the spermy trails off the rim with a tea towel. The juice looked very murky, but it was still orange. If you left it for too long the cum started to settle to the bottom, forming a visible white layer, so I gently swirled the glass in my hand to keep the cocktail well mixed. We all went through into the lounge now. There was a big picture window there, looking out onto the pool, so all the guys could watch. I went out and found Alison lounging on a sunbed, her legs spread and her hairless pussy lips pouting through the thin material of the bikini. "You look very hot, Alison," I said sincerely, handing her the glass. "Get this down you." She gave me a beaming smile. "Thank you, Mr Stephens!" she said. She took a big gulp of the juice... and froze just a little. A puzzled expression crossed her face. "All good?" I asked. "It's a bit thick," she said, her voice slightly slurred. "It's organic," I said. Well, part of it was. Alison took another sip. I could see it didn't go down easily. She practically had to chew it. "It's so warm," she said uncertainly. "Drink it quickly, then," I encouraged her. "I need to take the glass back." Obediently, she put the glass back to her lips and tilted it up. The sperm was starting to separate again, so I could see the lazily turning white streamers of man-juice in the liquid the gorgeous twelve-year-old was gulping down. She emptied the glass in three very effortful sips, forcing it down. When she lowered it, a rope of sperm linked her lower lip to the glass for a moment before her tongue flicked up to lick it away. Alison belched, then put her hand to her mouth, blushing bright red. "Pardon me!" she exclaimed. "You're pardoned," I assured her. I took the glass back, grinning all over my face. The innocent little pre-teen had just swallowed more loads of male ejaculate than a whore on match day. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the dads in the lounge filming the special moment on their cameras. I'd have to make sure I scored some of those videos. Best birthday party ever. But the dads have been talking. Pete knows where he can get his hands on some roofies, and we're all very keen to have another party some time very soon. Alison is going to be the guest of honour. FIN NB: if you enjoyed this story, if you want more of the same - or very different - please let me know by sending feedback via the AUTHORS directory page. The far right column contains a form that links to my email address. I'd love to hear from you, if only to know that I'm not wasting my time!