Rosco J. Murtson

Adoption Agency Girl

Chapter 1

Standing on the scales to be weighed and measured, little Jane White was still trembling with cold and fear. The smock the little girl wore, her only garment, didn't offer any protection. Sleeveless, tied at the neck but wide open down the back, its rough cotton came only to her hips.

She was cold, and everything about the day had been cold, cold, cold. She'd been abandoned by her parents, taken in by the police, and delivered to this concrete mausoleum known as the Youth Advantage Agency in one day. The people at the agency received her in a cold, sneering way, as if she was to blame for needing the charity that a foster home could provide. Then Jane had been made to take an icy shower in a cold concrete shower stall.

When she emerged, her clothes were gone and the nurse had left for the night. The Director of the Agency was waiting to give her the physical she had to have before she could join the other unfortunate girls at the agency. It was the worst day of Jane White's fourteen-year life, and all she could do about it was shake from fear and cold and try to keep from crying.

"Five feet one inch, one hundred and three pounds," Harold Scantland intoned. "Step off the scales and get up on the examination table."

Scantland held her elbow. He was itching to get his hands on more of Jane, most especially on that impertinently rounded little ass that she was unsuccessfully trying to cover with the inadequate smock he'd picked out for her. Sooner or later Scantland got his hands on all the choice girls that passed through his doors. And Jane White was so choice that he was determined to fuck her just as soon as possible. If she was as good as she looked, it would be a long time before he let her slip into the hands of some foster parents.

He ran his fingers lightly up the girl's arm, savoring the way she cringed away from him. "You wouldn't be cold, would you?" he said, leaning close, looking into her widened blue eyes, breathing her young, clean scent.

"F-Freezing. Isn't there any… heat in this building?"

He patted her arm reassuringly. "I'll take care of you," he said, and moved to turn up the thermostat in the room. His prick was growing hard already. It felt good to rub it against the countertop as he made hot tea from the kettle on the hot plate. Scantland blocked her view as he added honey, cinnamon, and liberal dollops of rum to the two steaming mugs. To Harold Scantland, Jane was the picture of innocence going to waste.

She had wide blue eyes that looked up to him as her only friend in the world as he handed her the spiked tea. She had a round, pretty face, a slightly uptilted nose, and sweet cupid's bow lips. Those lips would be just fine wrapped around a sliding cock, Scantland thought, and her plump little cheeks would look great all sunken in with suction.

Jane's hair was glossy black, healthy looking, falling in slightly bedraggled waves down to her shivering white shoulders. She had fine shapely legs, clasped tightly together as she sat on the edge of the black leather-covered table. And under that rough cotton smock were ripening young breasts just waiting to be plucked by experienced.hands. Harold Scant-land knew. He'd peeped through the crack in the door to get a good look at her as she'd been showering.

The agency director's smile reminded Jane of a lizard. He was of medium height and thin, with a thin black mustache on his hawk-like face and with hair that was beginning to recede up his forehead. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie. His hands on the tea mug touched Jane's as she accepted it with thanks.

His fingers were hot and she experienced a wicked thrill. "This tea tastes funny," she complained.

"Of course. Just some spices to make it taste better," Scantland said.

He fiddled around with the girl's papers, letting her soak up more and more of the camouflaged liquor. Her sighs, as the heated liquor made her drowsy, told him it was doing its job. The little white room was warming up and the drink was warming him up, making him feel both mellow and eager. By the time he'd finished the rum and tea he'd also finished processing her papers so that she'd be ready to be placed in a foster home whenever he was done with her. From the way his prick felt just then, that might be months. Scantland turned to face her. There were roses in Jane's cheeks and her eyelids drooped attractively. Even the hint of a silly smile was on her face as he approached her with the nurse's stethoscope.

The gleaming instrument that dangled around Mr. Scantland's neck was as assuring to Jane as the newfound warmth that flowed inside and out of her. The cold head of the stethoscope made her giggle when he placed it against her bare back. She inhaled and exhaled as he told her to, each breath feeling good, relaxing. She'd just knew she'd get used to her new life. Everything would work out fine. She was in good hands.

He moved the stethoscope all around her back. "Your lungs sound fine," he said. "Now let's listen to your heart."

Scantland placed the head of the stethoscope just under her left breast… No one had ever touched Jane's titties before and the girl was relieved that this wasn't necessary now. But his knuckles brushed the taut undersides of her breasts. Each time it happened, an eerie tingle crawled over her titties and her nipples hardened against the cotton smock. She sighed regretfully when he took off the stethoscope and made a note on a clipboard.

"You have a healthy heart," he said, and smiled. "Now I'm going to palpate your breasts, Jane."

"P-Palpate?"

"Yes. See if you have breast cancer. Lumps, you know, those are the first sign, and we've got to look for them very carefully to be sure you're free of that terrible affliction. Just sit perfectly still and it won't hurt a bit."

"You're going to…?"

Both his hands were already on her breasts, long fingers probing her soft flesh. Her face turned scarlet as she realized both her nipples were standing rigid. She knew how embarrassed she'd be if Mr. Scantland touched them and noticed how hard they were.

"Just sit still, dear," he soothed, feeling her stimulatingly firm young titties, perfect pointed hemispheres, not yet half grown.

Jane bit her lower lip, too ashamed to look up at Scantland and far too ashamed to look down at the hands that pulled and pushed at her breasts, even on her nipples. Despite herself, her tits warmed to his touch. Her only solace was that soon it would be over and he'd be tapping her knee with a hammer or something and…

"Hmm," he said, and he paused.

"What? What is it? Is it… is there… something wrong?"

"Probably nothing," Scantland said, but his smile was gone now and Jane found she was even helping him to get his hands under her smock to where the dreadful disease might lie.

Scantland's prick was up all the way and burning wet on its end. Jane's breasts weren't the biggest, but Scantland thought they might be the nicest tits he'd played with in a long time. They stuck right out, bold as could be, beautifully conical with warm undersides just beginning to bulge with her growth. They were as white as could be, particularly against his leathery brown hands, and yet the whiteness blended into the pinkness of her fine, stiff nipples so perfectly that there was no visible line of demarcation between white and pink at all. Gorgeous little tits, and all his. What with the way Jane was holding her gown up, she couldn't see and appreciate the beauty of his hands on her tits, but he certainly could and did.

"Probably nothing," Scantland said again, continuing to feel the two fine rising beauties, for they fit into his palms with perfection. "Probably nothing at all to be concerned about, but you'd best lie back so I can make a really thorough examination. Just keep your smock held up about your neck like that."

The room seemed to tilt as Jane obediently lay back. She had to close her eyes against a sudden dizziness that came from fear, shame, and the weird feeling that the room might be too warm now. She couldn't do a thing about it. All she could do was lie there and pray she didn't have cancer and that she wouldn't have to go through this again the next day with the nurse or with doctors. She wanted to cry. She wanted her mother and father, no matter how drunk they might be. She wanted an angel to appear and tell her she was healthy, without disease, going to live.

"I think your breasts are fine," he said.

Jane opened her tear-filled eyes and whispered, "Thank you. Oh, thank you!"

"No need to thank me. I might have to check you again sometime, but your t… your breasts appear to be perfectly normal. And very pretty too, for that matter," said Harold.

He swept his fond gaze down and up her exposed body once again. He'd been looking at it all the time she'd had her eyes closed. She was a little knockout. A perfect miniature of a woman. Soft white tummy with just the slightest bulge to it, made all the more intriguing by the sweet dimple of her navel. Great legs, narrow but very feminine hips, and one of the sweetest little cunts he'd ever seen, just barely covered with silk-fine hair, nice and plump, split with a crack that he was quite sure would stretch out in welcome to a nice hard cock like the one in his pants. "Very pretty indeed," he said, but then he saw alarm in her eyes and so he reluctantly took his hands from her titties to get on to the next step in her inexorable excitation. "Roll over on your stomach, please."

“Wh-What are you going to look for now?"

“Just do as I say," he said, blending sternness with kind professionalism in just the right amount.

She rolled over and Scantland saw the part of her that had interested him most from the start, two perfect round spheres, absolutely flawless white, separated by the tightest sort of a crack that disappeared down between her plump young thighs. It looked good enough to take a bite out of one of these days, and maybe he would, but just then he laid a titty-warmed hand on it and Jane jumped as if she'd been properly goosed.

"Relax," he said, as his hand slid down the indentation of her back and up her spine. "I've got to test for spine curvature and other things, but you've got to cooperate and relax if you ever expect to pass your physical and be placed in a nice home. Relax. I'll help you." With both hands on her back, he began to massage her there.

The little girl knew she didn't have curvature of the spine. Her posture had always been perfect. Therefore it was relatively easy to at least try to relax, take deep breaths, and let the man's hands on her back ease away the tension of the day. They felt good there, in a way. Jane had never had anyone touch her bare flesh like that, but now that it was happening it felt relaxing indeed. She was so very relieved that her breasts were healthy and sound. They even felt healthier now that they'd been examined. Pressed against the warm leather, moving under the weight of Mr. Scant-land's moving hands, they tickled with relief rather than seethed with dread disease. She could even smile a little as the good hands on her back helped relax her and make her feel good all over, and as Mr. Scantland's voice spoke reassuringly to her.

"Yes, you're such a pretty little thing that we shouldn't have too much trouble finding the right place for you. Maybe it will be a big rich home on a lake in the mountains. Maybe it will be a family that travels all over the world who will take you in. Maybe you'll find you're happiest staying right here, learning all about the business world, helping me. Wherever you go it will be good. As long as you're a good.girl, Janie. It's one thing to be pretty and to have a nice little figure like yours, but cooperation, being a good girl, that's just as important. Relax. Cooperate. Above all else, trust me, and good things will happen to you. I've helped a lot of other girls. I can help you, too. Relax. Cooperate. Trust me, dear."

"Uh-huh. Yes, Mizzer Scan'lan'. Uh-huh," Janie murmured, feeling ever so good now, safe and secure, fluttering toward sleep, the nice feelings in her breasts spreading luxuriously through her body.

"Relax everywhere, dear. This pretty fanny too," he said, as both of his thoroughly warmed hands got on those incredibly firm round mounds and molded them to any erotic shape he chose. "Relax. I don't bite."

Jane had to giggle at that through her drowsiness. She had to giggle too at how funny it felt to be touched like that, on flesh that was every bit as secret as her breasts had been. Mr. Scantland was a kind, good man, as able as any doctor, and she didn't resist at all when he spread her legs apart for his further examinations of her.

"Now I've got to examine you internally a little bit, but it won't hurt you. I'll never do anything to hurt you, you're such a pretty, sweet, cooperative girl. Hmm. Pretty all over, even your little bottom. Even your little bum-hole, that I've got to examine now. Just relax, Janie. Don't tense up like that. I'm just putting some nice slippery stuff here on your pretty little pooper to make sure I don't hurt you' even one tiny bit."

Good heavens, now he was examining her pooper, actually touching it with something as thick as his finger but so slippery and warm that it certainly didn't hurt her. But Janie was all tense again. She couldn't help that what with the way she was being touched. She tried to regain that state of cooperative relaxation that she knew was pleasing to him and necessary to her. It wasn't easy, for now it felt as if his slippery finger was going inside her.

"Easy does it. Relax. This is all part of the regular examination. Be a good girl. Relax. It doesn't hurt. Stop and think about it and you'll have to admit it feels real nice, eh?"

"Uh-huh," Janie muttered, though of course it didn't feel good at all. It didn't hurt, it just felt very very weird to have something push up inside her where things just shouldn't go.

Scantland pushed his Vaselined middle finger in her asshole, every bit of it, right up to the knuckle, and his innocent little angel just squirmed and stifled a moan and arched her fantastic little butt back up at him. He knew it felt good once it got started. He'd conducted enough experiments on his charges to be sure of that. That trick was to make it feel good enough so they'd want more, and more…

His finger felt huge in Janie. The girl was convinced this had to be done, for some reason, and so she had to put up with it however it felt. She held onto the table's edge with both hands, trying not to pant with the effort it took to position her fanny so that the big sliding thing in it could do what it was supposed to do and be out of her. It wasn't at all like pooping. It was a weird stretching sensation, coupled with the slippery slow wedge going into her as well as out of her. It made her itch back there and at the same time it assuaged the itch. It made the itch blend into almost the same tingling warm feelings in her breasts as she panted and squirmed on the table, waiting for it to end, wondering if it ever would end, and if her bum-hole would itch and tingle for days afterward.

"Sweet little ass. Nothing at all wrong with it that I can see so far," Scantland said, working his finger all the way in and out, rotating his finger in that tight warm asshole as he finger-fucked it at his leisure. He was holding the girl down with his hand on her plump ass-cheek too, kneading it nicely, but by then the sensations in her virgin asshole were surely overwhelming just about anything else.

Janie couldn't breathe. How long would it go on? It had to stop soon or she'd go out of her mind, though there was really nothing at all unpleasant about it, just the slow reaming exploration of her asshole, all done with the very best intentions, but doing things to her that she should be ashamed of, but wasn't.

"I told you it would feel good. Didn't I? Hmm? I know other things that feel good too. Physicals can be fun. We can have a lot of fun together, you and I, as long as you're a good girl. In and out. Mm-m-m. Yes. In and out and round and round, making that hot, sweet little asshole of yours feel better and better all the time. And you love it. Yes, you do. Little ass just squirming all around, pretty little titties just jamming up against the table, hot little asshole sucking on my finger and juicy little cunt waiting for its turn, coming up."

Chapter 2

Janie woke from her half sleep with a start. As soon as Mr. Scantland said that word she knew exactly what he was doing to her, and she tried to crane around and look up at him from over her shoulder, but his hold on her fanny wouldn't let her. "D-Don't. Please," she said. "Can't we wait for the nurse?"

"Nonsense," he said with a smile, still knuckle-deep in her asshole, and now reaching her cringing cuntlips with his little finger. "I'm fully qualified to do all of this. And I'm not hurting you. I'm making you feel good. Doesn't your cunt feel good? Doesn't it? Don't you feel good all over?"

"No-o-o-o," she moaned. "You shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be talking to me this way. I'll… I'll tell the nurse. I will! OH!"

His finger hooked and twisted cruelly in her sweet, little pussy and Janie in turn twisted in panic on the table. She could feel him bending over her now as he said, "You'll not threaten me, you little ragamuffin. You'll lie there and take it, do anything I say, do you understand?" he demanded, twisting harder, deeper, until at last the tears flowed from Jane's eyes and she could only gasp and writhe under the strong hands that could tear her to pieces. She was brought right to the brink of unconsciousness by that finger so deep within her before the pain dwindled and her body could stop its helpless twisting.

"That's better," he purred, trying to soothe her with his hands now, and with a voice that had turned oily smooth. "You've simply got to learn to cooperate. Pretty little thing like you, you can go a long way if you cooperate with men, and you can have a good time doing it. Tha-a-a-t's right. That's a nice little girl. And that's a nice little cunt you've got down there. Roll over, Janie. Let's have a look at it."

Dear heaven, he was touching her there, poking his fingers in flesh that was far more secret than anything else about her, and Janie couldn't do a thing about it except sob. Tears didn't mean a thing to him. He kept pawing her and saying things that sounded dirty to her, but at least he took his huge finger out of her pooper. She had to shudder and moan as it was withdrawn. It did feel almost like pooping now, and then he massaged the ball of his finger all around her stretched-out anus as he took it out, reviving all those weird itchy feelings, but banishing the last of the pain. But it still existed in her mind, and she knew it would be repeated in force if she didn't do as she was told.

Jane let him help her roll over on the examination table, prepared for the very worst.

"Yes, you're a pretty little thing," Scant-land said, taking the smock out of her plucking fingers, leaving her stark naked before his lustful old eyes. "Nice little titties, cute little body, and tight little cunt," he said, pawing her as he spoke, as if she didn't know what awful parts of her body he was referring to. "Just relax and we'll have some fun together now. Stop that silly crying and let's see you smile."

There was no way Janie could smile and mean it, but at least the tears were stopping. She'd learned long ago that tears didn't do a bit of good. It wouldn't even do any good to try to cut and run now, for she'd never find her way out of this building, and when he caught her things would go all the worse for her. She had to lie there and suffer, looking forward to more pain, but in a different place.

"Yes, that's a nice little cunt," he said, nudging her trembling legs apart, rubbing three fingers over the previously inviolate lips. "Sweet as can be and quite ready for fucking," he said, prodding her deeper there, making her gasp and grab at the sides of the table.

"Now I didn't hurt you. You can't tell me I did," said the hovering Mr. Scantland, and he held her right hand captive against the table's edge with his hard, hot loins. ''Girls like to have their cunts played with. You can't tell me they don't. I'll bet you play with yours yourself. Don't you? Answer me, dear," he went on, and the increased pressure of his fingers in her slit told Janie she'd better speak up.

"N-No. It's not… nice," she faltered.

"Fibbing isn't nice, either," he said. "I know you play with your pussy. I know you masturbate. All good children do. Show me how you do it. Come on. I'll help you," he said, and at last he took his fingers from her pussy, only to take her left hand in his and hold it against her opened crotch.

For a moment this afforded Janie some relief. It was almost as good as being dressed, but only for a moment. She was covered up there, but then he started moving her hand with his, and her shame was so great at his knowing that she'd touched herself there before that she closed her eyes and bit her lip in mortification.

"That's right," he purred. "Doesn't that feel nice. Yes-s-s. Just like you do to yourself when you're alone in bed. But while you're here with us, I'll be doing it for you, dear, and that will feel even nicer. And the other girls, they'll help you do it too. Oh, you're going to have such good times here you just won't want to leave. So nice. So very nice," he murmured, and now, now that she couldn't see him, now that she was touching herself in that recently familiar way, it almost did feel nice.

"Mm-m-m-m. It does feel nice, doesn't it. Yes-s-s. You're starting to get wet, aren't you?"

Head turned away, eyes tight shut, Jane had to nod yes because, indeed, her flesh was getting wet there, and there seemed no way she could lie to this man who knew all about her innermost secrets in advance.

"Let's see," he said, and his bony fingers crept under her hand, and now it was he who was touching her wet hole.

"No. Please," Janie murmured, and tears approached once again.

"Why not? It feels good. Doesn't it? No fibbing now," he said, massaging her cunny, gentle now, and knowing just where to do it most effectively.

Lies were impossible and Janie just kept still, but he persisted, saying, "It doesn't feel bad. Does it? And if it doesn't feel bad, it must feel good. And if it feels good, why stop. Lie back and enjoy it. Lie back and dream about your favorite boyfriend. Who would that be? Elton John? Neil Young? Paul McCartney? Lie back with your eyes closed and dream about them, listen to their music, dance with them while you feel so-o-o-o good, so very very good. While I make your pussy feel even better."

Again he had looked into her mind, this time naming her secret passion without even trying. She could see him now, all aglitter in sequins, smiling radiantly while he worshipped her through his outlandish big glasses and made love to her with his musician's hands. She could hear his music, it seemed, hear him pouring out love words to her, and she couldn't help but move to the tune he was singing, for she did feel good.

"Oh. Ah," Janie murmured, for it felt almost as good to move as it did to be played with by her secret lover. "Oh my," she said, squirming her bottom on the table to alleviate the itchy buttocks that had been bothering her ever since Mr. Scantland had taken his finger out of her pooper. "Oh, yes," she sighed, as one hand went to her titties, the other moving even more beautifully between her legs.

"Yes! That's it!" he murmured, quite close to her now, hands moving in just the right way. "Isn't that good? Doesn't that feel nice? And don't you look nice with the nipples of your tits all stiff and hard and waiting to be sucked on, with your hot little cunt all wet and squirmy, with your pretty little ass working like a coffee grinder on the table. Move it around, Janie. That's what feels good. Don't be afraid to get good and hot. That's what girls are made for. Get hot, baby. You love it and you know it. That's it. Let yourself go and have yourself some fun for a change."

Janie couldn't stop moving. It was the unheard music and the unseen Elton John and the warmth and the glow, but most of all it was the hands that were massaging so deeply on her titties and on her pussy. She realized she was moaning as well as panting, and she just couldn't stop, even though the man who was doing all this to her was chuckling in amusement now. And when he asked her if she was feeling good, when he insisted that she answer him, she had to gasp, "Yes! Yes, I feel good all over!"

"Then roll over," he said, "and we'll see if you still feel good back there in your little asshole."

His hands helped her turn about on the table. Even though every part of her little naked body was in constant, writhing motion, a part of her coordination had vanished so that his help was even welcome in getting her face down on the table, with her hips elevated and her bare ass sticking shamelessly up in the air.

"Oh-h-h-h God, yes, that feels good too!" he made her confess, as he slid his greased finger deep in her butt-hole again, reamed it all around, and at the same time worked his knuckle against her wonderfully seething little pussy.

"Not near as tight as it was before, is it?" he asked her, and with no prompting at all now, Janie said, "No! It's fine. Ah-h-h, it feels good down there. Real, real good"

"I'll bet you'd like something even bigger in there, wouldn't you? Hm-m-m? Something nice and hard, good and stiff, something even longer than this finger that's doing such good things to you. Hm-m-m?"

"Yes!" the naked little girl panted. "Bigger. Anything. It itches. It feels so good," she told him, rotating her upraised hips all around, helping him work that lovely finger in and out, of her churning asshole.

"Here it is," he said. "Just look."

Cheek mashed against the leather, Janie squinted her lead-weighted eyes a fraction, then opened them wide as could be as she was confronted with a huge, angry red thing she knew at once to be a penis. It jutted strongly out of his opened pants, red-knobbed end all wet and gleaming, and with a slit of an eye that seemed to be staring back at her just as she was staring at it. Her asshole and her cunt involuntarily tightened and for a moment she thought he was going to gouge her with his finger again. But then when she didn't scream, didn't try to move away from the strangely fascinating thing just before her eyes, his finger began moving smoothly again, and his words were smooth, too, as he curled his free hand about his penis and began to massage it.