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/elit/ - Erotic Literature
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BFORE YOU POST, KNOW THIS! Cowboy!6UZGZTHCak ## Mod ## 10/06/30(Wed)19:25 No. 8547 ID: 5eefb3 Stickied

ALL REQUESTS FOR STORIES OR STORY CONTENT ARE TO GO IN THIS THREAD! ALL STORY REQUESTS NOT POSTED IN THIS THREAD WILL BE DELETED AND THE POSTER MAY BE BANNED. ALL COMMENTS QUESTIONS, AND OTHER OF THE LIKE ARE TO GO HERE AS WELL! Also, if you don't have constructive comments, keep them to yourself. Or you'll get banned for being an ass. This is not /b/, you have been warned.

Make sure that you check out http://asstr.org or http://storiesonline.net, or any other of the fine erotic literature sites, or GOOGLE IT! THEY MAY HAVE THE STORY ALREADY THERE!…Where ever that may be….Also, any plagiarism will result in a BAN!

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Anonymous 20/11/03(Tue)12:02 No. 27043 ID: d5c8bc

I have:
Roger and the Lesbian Elves 1
Roger and the Lesbian Elves 2
Dracula's Other Wife c1-7
The Blue Djinn, Succubii Sisters, and a Genie named Jeannie
Lara Croft and the Temple of The Woman's Phallus
Ranma's Quest for His Manhood c1-4
The Cosmic Breeders c2-7

What I need is:
The Sisterhood 1
Dracula's Daughter

I'm willing to trade.

Anonymous 20/12/26(Sat)20:43 No. 27107 ID: 4eb988

I was inspired to page through the wayback machine by hand until I found this story, and I have. Unfortunately, it seems like it wasn't archived.
You can see it in these two archives.
If there's anywhere else that it might be backed up, or if anyone has it saved, please share it.

Anonymous 20/12/31(Thu)00:15 No. 27113 ID: 8db02c

There were a whole lot of stories on asstr about "a future where women are food". Including one "culling the female herd" where there was a crossbow shooting competition with a whole lot of beauty pageant type stats (like: his next shot was a blonde argentinian girl 55-40-65). Also a similar one where girls convicted of minor crimes are sold off. Also one where a grandfather has "one of his 14 year old grandaughters" made into a pan pizza.
All of these with little or no sex

Anyone got archives of my shit? CellxXxPhish 21/01/26(Tue)06:21 No. 27148 ID: ba8f24

long gone writer that slunk back here. Used to go by the tag BaneoftheBlackDragon (or something that dumb, this was years ago).

Posted two stories here; The Last Queen and Chaos Star but lost the originals years ago and since 3litchan went poof, have suddenly decided to nose around to see if anyone had any copies of it in their archives or something as I am thinking of revisiting. I vaguely recall the thematics, characters and plotlines of these characters so hence why I'm looking for any archives of it.

Stepped away for a long time cause life took a lot of shitty turns and I stopped writing hardcore stuff but kept writing fan-fiction, have graduated to more softcore stuff in recent years and now thinking of revisiting some of my degenerate writing.

Anonymous 21/01/29(Fri)13:00 No. 27155 ID: 04e002

Part request, part fulfilling a request nobody else has made yet?

I started looking for other stories by Raedan earlier today and was able to dig up two from archived 99chan threads. Does anyone know if he wrote anything else, or published anywhere else? Has he changed names? etc.

The stories I found: "shemale solo":

https://web.archive.org/web/20090828142707/http://www.99chan.org:80/elit/res/4150.html (has intro, is missing ending)

https://web.archive.org/web/20110308065100/http://www.99chan.in/elit/res/4150+50.html (is missing the intro)

And "Anne in Love":


"Amy" has been circulated pretty widely (a request for it even appears in this very thread), but it doesn't seem like people are aware of his other writing.

Anonymous 21/02/04(Thu)15:18 No. 27168 ID: e201b6

My Sister is a Dickgirl

My Sister is a Dickgirl is yet another piece of fine literature that only the internet could produce, and then quickly took the net by storm. Similar to Usenet classic Raping Little Suzy, the core theme of the work revolves around mindless sex with one's family (although RLS is far more graphic). Following the misadventures of the hormone crazed protagonist and his sister plus one Cassie, My Sister is a Dickgirl has survived years of relentless reposts, ultimately being one of the most widespread copypastas of all time.
The Story

“Knock it off already.” Cassie had the remote control firmly entrenched in her hand and was doing her best to keep it out of reach. The TV was stuck on basketball, which sucked. I knew that there had to be some combination of leverage and brute force that would cause my sister’s fingers to open and let me gain command of the remote. Getting up and walking to the TV was simply out of the question.

“Knock what off?,” I replied, making another grab. Cassie just rolled her eyes and pushed me away. Time for a desperation move. I stuck my thumb in my mouth just long enough to let it collect a good amount of spit, then, distracting her with another lunge for the remote, I slid my thumb past her defenses and rubbed it over her left ear.

“Ewww! Fucking gross!” Her grip loosened just enough for me to pry the device from her hand. My victory was sweet, but it was also short.

“Okay, Knob. You asked for it.” She grabbed me by the wrist and deftly twisted it behind my back, using her three-year age lead and height advantage to throw me down on the couch. She pinned me on my stomach and quickly moved into a sitting position on my shoulders, resting her full weight down on me to keep me from escaping. It was pretty much over. I knew what was coming next, and with one final effort I raised my free hand and succeeded in changing the channel before she could wrestle the remote away. Yes! No matter what happened now, she could never take that away from me.

I closed my eyes as I heard her unzip her pants. My embarrassment was unreal as she began whacking me on the back of the head with a blunt, meaty object.

As a boy, it’s not easy growing up with a sister who has a bigger penis than you do.

My family isn’t exactly normal. Cassie’s dad was killed in car crash when she was only a year old. Mom got married again and had me, but my dad ran off with a car show model when I was seven, leaving my mom to take care of us by herself. We’ve been though some rough times, but I think we’re closer because of it. And also weirder.

My sister Cassie is…well, different. When Cassie was born she was what they call ‘intersexed,’ which is the name for what happens when your parts are mixed up between being male and female. They decided to operate and make her into a boy, but as she got older it started to be obvious that she wasn’t supposed to be one. Now at sixteen you couldn’t guess that she was anything other than a slighty tomboyish teenage girl. She looked like a girl, dressed like a girl, and even smelled like a girl. She pretty much *was* a girl in every way except for what she had between her legs. A lot of people seem to think that’s the only place that counts, but living with Cassie has taught me that its what’s in your head that really matters.

It was a little strange growing up with her, but I pretty much got used to the fact that she had a ‘thingy’ like I did. The strangeness increased when she hit puberty and started growing boobs, something that the doctors said was unusual since she hadn’t been taking hormones. They gave her some to try out and her boobs got even bigger. Her hips got wider too and she started getting taller. I was still pretty small for my age and it soon became clear that she could beat me up pretty easily. Not that she ever really did, but anytime we had a wrestling match she would win pretty easily. We usually got along well, but as we both got older things started to get…complicated.

Our mom was working long shifts at the hospital, leaving Cassie in charge at home. I didn’t enjoy being bossed around by my sister, so sometimes I got pretty rebellious. Then Cassie developed her unique way of dealing with me, and I quickly learned that making her mad was a bad idea. That didn’t always stop me, however.

Sometimes she got really irritable. She didn’t seem to have many friends even though she was smart and wasn’t bad looking. She liked guys and even had a boyfriend for a while when she was fourteen, but he’d peeked at her once when she was changing in his parent’s poolhouse and totally freaked out. He broke up with her right after that and she’d hadn’t had a boyfriend since. She was probably pretty lonely. Sometimes I felt sorry for her, but she could also be a real pain to live with.

She was in one of those moods one night when I suddenly got a hyperactive urge to tempt fate. I crept up behind her as she was laying sidelong on the couch. She was watching basketball again. I waited until one of the players made a three-pointer, then I reached down with lightning speed and snapped her bra as hard as I could.

“He shoots, he scores!” I yelled, then ran for my life. It was the typical kind of foolishly suicidal thing you do when you’re thirteen and bored out of your mind.

She snarled and lunged, but I was already sprinting back upstairs, hoping that I could barricade myself in my room before she caught up. I almost made it. She shoved the door open with her shoulder before I could get it completely closed and jumped on me.

This time I knew I was in trouble. The look on my big sister's face made it clear that I was dead meat. I wasn’t going to give up without a fight though. We crashed onto the bed and wrestled like mad, grunting and growling like a couple of crazy animals. It lasted a few minutes before she distracted me with a charley horse and pinned me to the mattress. We were both panting for breath and I was suddenly very aware of her boobs pressing against my back as she held me down. It was a good thing I was on my stomach. The grappling match had left me with a painfully stiff hard-on, embarassing but not terribly unusual. A gentle breeze could often make me hard those days. Acting tired, I relaxed and pretended to give up. I planned on trying to throw her off when she moved up to administer the standard thwacking, but she stayed laying on top of me and didn’t move. Afraid that she was thinking up some new and even worse punishment, I quickly flipped myself over on the bed and almost succeeded at knocking her to the floor. She squealed and shoved me back down, hopping up to sit on my chest with her thighs locked around my head. Her leg had brushed against my crotch as she moved up, and to my surprise she suddenly reached back and grabbed my dick through my pants.

“I thought I felt a little pin-prick,’ she said, grinning evilly down at me.

“Shut up,” was my witty comeback.

“Make me.”

I struggled to push her off but her knees had a deathgrip on my head, squeezing down around it like a nutcracker. Still grinning, she reached down and started unbuttoning her fly.

“I think you need to see what a real one looks like,” she said, her voice quieter but no less malevolent. I winced, afraid to look as she pulled out her cock.

his was *soooo* not right. I could already imagine the many years of therapy that were lying in wait for me. Still, I couldn’t help but look. She had some trouble getting it out, and when she finally succeeded it was obvious why. She was just as hard as I was. Seeing a rigid PENIS sticking out from the fly of a teenage girl sitting on your chest is an experience that’s not easy to describe, especially when that girl is your sister and you realize that her dick is bigger than your own. I found myself staring up at it in in a state of mild shock. It wasn’t bad as far as penises go I guess; it was maybe five inches long and looked really smooth and clean. It was also, though I hate to admit it, almost *cute.*

She pinned my hands to the bed and looked down at me with a wicked gleam in her eyes. Her cheeks were turning a hot red color like she was blushing. I expected her to slap me with it or something, but she just sat there with her dick pointing slightly down at my face. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I suddenly realized that I was getting really turned on. There were so many things wrong here that it was hard to keep track. And it was about to get even worse.

Cassie’s grin had faded, replaced with an expression of…I wasn’t sure what. Her face was suddenly serious and her boobs were rising and falling with her breathing. Her cock hung stiffly only a few inches away, aiming almost direcly for my mouth. “Suck it,” she said quietly, almost in a whisper.

I stared at her dick for a moment, not sure exactly what I wanted to do. I’d never even thought about trying something like this before, but...

Without even fully realizing I was doing it, I lifted my head up and gave her cock a little lick. It smelled like the body wash she used and didn’t really taste like anything. Not bad so far. I took the head between my lips and gave it a few experimental sucks. It felt warm and very stiff. Cassie gasped and leaned down over me, pushing herself further into my mouth. I started sucking harder and took as much as I could, feeling it twitch every time the head nudged against my throat. I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right, but the way she was gasping and panting led me to believe that she liked it. She was gripping my hands so tight it almost hurt. Suddenly her whole body tensed up, and before I knew what was happening there was a sudden gush of warm, salty liquid in my mouth. She let out a low groan as her cock jumped again, pumping out more of her stuff. It tasted kinda gross. I guess I could have pulled my head away, but I think I was too stunned to move. For some reason I hadn’t expected her to cum the same way a boy did.

After a few more squirts, Cassie’s body relaxed and she slowly rolled off me. She sat at the edge of the bed and looked at me for a second, then suddenly stood up and ran out of the room. Not sure what else to do, I went to the bathroom to spit the stuff out. I rinsed my mouth, feeling ashamed as I realized I was still hard as a rock. It was all very confusing. Did this mean I was gay? I walked to Cassie’s room and stopped outside the door. I could hear the sound of quiet sobbing from inside. I didn’t know what I should do. I wasn’t even sure why she was crying. The situation was just too fucking weird. I went back to my room to fire up my Xbox and tried to forget about it for a while.

Cassie avoided me for almost a week. I didn’t know if she was disgusted with me or just ashamed of what had happened. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, but I knew that I didn’t want things to stay weird between us forever. That weekend I waited until mom had gone to bed and then went down the hall to Cassie’s room. I could see a faint light coming from underneath the door so I knew she was probably awake. I knocked softly.


There was a moment of silence. “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

Another pause, but shorter this time. “Okay.”

I went in and closed the door behind me. Cassie was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing only a bra and a pair of boxers. It looked like she’d been reading a book. My eyes immediately locked on her boobs. They were pretty big and were pushing out of the top of her bra like she was starting to outgrow it. I forced myself to look up at her eyes, but she wasn’t looking at me. Neither of us said anything for a few moments.

“Uh, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for, um…” I trailed off, not sure how I should finish. There wasn’t exactly a Hallmark message for this kind of thing.

Cassie finally looked up at me, looking shocked. “*You’re* sorry? Jesus.” She got up and gave me an awkward hug. It was my turn to feel a bit surprised. She hadn’t hugged me in years. I’d been more expecting her to scream and maybe throw something. I could feel her boobs pushing firmly against my chest, and it was starting to have an effect on me. My shorts suddenly felt much tighter.

“It wasn’t your fault. I made you do it.” She said, her head resting lightly on my shoulder. “Do you hate me?”

“No.” I didn’t. In fact, hugging her like this was making me feel warm and lightheaded.

“Good.” She pulled away with a smile, but her smile quickly faded as she looked down and noticed my hard-on though my shorts.

“God, you are such a perv.” She punched me on the chest and walked back to her bed.

“Yeah, well, so are you.” I said, then as she turned back to glare at me I quickly lunged in and yanked her boxers down around her knees. Cassie shrieked and tried to hide herself as she reached to pull them up. I was still able to get a pretty good look. She didn’t have much hair on her crotch. Her PENIS was semi-hard and I could see that she had a small set of balls hanging down below it. It was pretty weird seeing a package on the body of a sixteen year old girl, but I was starting to get used to weird things.

“You are *so* dead!” She growled.

I decided to make a pre-emptive strike while she was still dealing with her underwear. I tackled her backwards onto the bed, managing to gain the upper hand as she kicked and growled at me. After a quick but frenzied struggle I was able to flip her onto her stomach and pin her hands.

Resting my weight on top of her, I started wondering what I could do to embarrass her and pay her back a little. The fact that I’d managed to pin her on her own bed while she was half-naked was probably pretty humiliating by itself. I wasn’t in much of a hurry to decide. Rare victories like this needed to be savored. Also, her butt was rubbing against me as she tried to push me off, and it felt kinda good.

“Let go!” She twisted underneath me and I felt my dick slip between the cheeks of her ass. It lay trapped between us, pointed up at the small of her back.

Sometimes I called her ‘Assie’ because her rear end was kinda big, but mostly just because the name pissed her off. Right now though it was nothing to joke about. Her boxers were only covering her ass halfway and the warmth and softness of her butt was feeling really good even through my shorts. I had an idea that I shouldn’t be doing this…it seemed almost like rape. It was the only position I could keep her down in though, and I knew that the second I let up she would kill me.

Just then I noticed that she’d mostly stopped struggling. She was still twisting around a little but it didn’t seem like she was trying very hard to knock me off. Mostly it was just making my dick rub against her ass even more. After a few moments it dawned on me that she might be doing it on purpose. I’m normally a bit quicker on the uptake, but the idea that Cassie could somehow *want* me to dry hump her butt just seemed crazy.

Crazy or not, it was starting to feel pretty damn nice. I decided to risk seeing if I could make it even better. She didn’t move as I let one of her hands go and worked my shorts open. I pulled her boxers down a little more, then moved back into place with my dick laying on her naked butt. I noticed quickly that the feel of skin on skin was much, much better. I moved my hips a little so that my cock rubbed slowly back and forth on the crack of her ass. I didn’t know if this was what actual sex was like, but it felt awesome.

I got so lost in the sensations of pushing against her butt that I didn’t realize I was about to cum until it was already happening. I couldn’t move, or even think as my stuff started launching out all over her back. I’d played with myself plenty of times, but this was the most intense cum I’d ever had. I moved off of her when it finally stopped, suddenly feeling ashamed of myself. Cassie’s back and shoulders were streaked and messy with my sperm. Not seeing anything else to clean up with, I used my shorts to mop it up. She was still laying there quietly like she had been the whole time. The only way I knew she was even alive was from her steady breathing.

I sat back on the bed, unable to keep from staring at her butt. There was just something about the curves of her hips and ass that was really hot. If I hadn’t already known she was ‘different,’ there would have been no way to tell from this angle. Acting on a sudden urge, I reached over and gently squeezed her ass with both hands. I kinda expected her to yell at me, but all I heard was something that sounded like a quiet moan. Wondering how far she would let me explore, I slowly pushed her cheeks apart until I could see her little pink butthole. It looked clean and was glistening slightly with sweat. Feeling strangely drawn to it, I moved my hand down and rubbed it lightly with my thumb. She gasped and I felt her jump a little, but she didn’t say anything or push me away. I rubbed it again, then took my hand away and stood up. Maybe she liked me touching her butt, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do down there.

Cassie rolled over on her back and looked at me. Her dick was very stiff and lying back against her stomach, the tip all shiny and wet-looking. I could see the shapes of her nipples poking against her bra. She just laid there watching me as I sat down next to her and put my hand around her cock.

A few days later she came home looking upset. I’d been planning to mess with her again and see what happened, but one look at her face told me that it’d be a bad idea. She stormed past me up to her room and slammed the door behind her. A little while later I was distracted from the TV by a crashing sound from upstairs. It sounded like Cassie was screaming and throwing things. She’d thrown hissy fits before sometimes, but this one sounded bad.

I wondered what was wrong but I knew better than to bother her then. She would probably just try to bounce a lamp off my head or something. I waited until the noise quieted down, then climbed the stairs and went to her room. I couldn’t hear anything on the other side of the door. I knocked. No answer. I knocked harder.

“Go away,” she answered. Her voice sounded faint and shaky.

Never one to obey orders, I slowly opened the door. Her room was a mess and the mirror over her dresser was busted. I started to worry that she’d hurt herself. She was lying sideways on the bed and clutching a pillow over her face. Her body was shuddering like she was crying, but she wasn’t making a sound.

“Are you ok?” I asked. When she didn’t answer, I made my way through the wreckage and sat down next to her. I stayed there for a few minutes until she stopped crying and looked at me from under the pillow. Her eyes were wet and red.

“I thought I told you to go away,” she said, wiping her cheeks. She didn’t seem to have the strength left to even glare at me.

“Yeah, but I heard a bomb go off and wanted to see if anyone survived.”

“Funny.” Cassie rolled over with her back toward me and curled up into a ball. “Now leave me alone.”

“So are you ok?” It felt like a dumb question, but it was the only one I could think of.


“You want to talk or anything?”


“Fine.” At least I’d tried. I was sure I’d find out more about it later when mom got home.

She didn’t get in until around midnight. Cassie waited up for her. I was supposed to be asleep, but I snuck out of my room and listened from the top of the stairs as they talked in the kitchen.

Apparently Cassie’s old boyfriend had gotten pissed off for some reason and started blabbing to everyone that Cassie had a dick. A guy came up behind her at lunch and grabbed her crotch to see for himself. I knew she wore an athletic supporter to hide the bulge, but if he’d gotten a good feel it would’ve been easy for him to tell what she had down there. Cassie had elbowed him in the gut, then he’d shoved her and called her a freak. Some other kids stepped in before it went any further, but the asshole and his friends had hounded her all day.

“Now everybody looks at me like I’m a mutant or something,” I heard Cassie say. “I hate this body! I hate it!” She started crying again and I heard mom trying to comfort her. I hadn’t really thought about it much before, but I realized Cassie was pretty unhappy about being different. It pissed me off those guys had messed with her like that. I wished I was older and bigger so I could do something about it.

Whatever mom said to her seemed to help though. They started heading upstairs, so I ran and got back into bed. They talked a little more in Cassie’s room and then said goodnight. I pretended to be asleep as mom came in to check on me. She sat down on the bed next to me and I felt her run her hand over my hair.

“Go easy on your sister, Bobby.’ She told me. “Things are hard for her right now.” I wondered if she knew I was awake. Probably. She always seemed to know. She kissed me goodnight and then left.

I waited until I was sure she’d gone to bed, then I got up and went down the hall. I opened the door to Cassie’s room as quietly as I could and slipped inside. I followed the sound of her soft breathing over to her bed and slid quickly in under the blanket, nestling up against her like I’d used to do when we were little. She tensed up for a second when I put my arms around her, but then relaxed again. It felt really good holding her like that. I hoped it felt nice for her too.

The next thing I knew mom was waking us up for school. She didn’t seem mad that I’d gone to sleep in my sister’s bed. If anything she seemed to think it was cute. Cassie didn’t want to go, but mom reminded her about the talk they had last night and Cassie eventually went. I felt bad for her. I’d had my share of teasing in school and I’d hated it, but what she was going through was probably a million times worse. I hoped we’d still have a house left after she got home that day.

When Cassie did get home I was surprised to see that she was in a decent mood. She wasn’t exactly happy, but she seemed more like her normal self. So normal in fact that I couldn’t resist the urge to snap her with a damp rag when we were cleaning up the kitchen. She was leaning over and her ass was just too tempting a target. The cloth impacted against her butt with a startlingly loud crack. She yelped and spun around with murder in her eyes. I ran, laughing like a maniac the whole time.

She cornered me in the living room before I could make the stairs. I tried to fake her out and jump past, but she caught me and tackled me down onto the couch. I did my best to escape, but her wet hands gave her an unfair advantage when grabbing my clothes. They also hurt when she pinned me face down with her knees in my back and started spanking me hard on the butt.

“If you’re gonna act like a brat, you’re gonna get treated like one,” she said, her voice sounding stern though I was sure that she had a huge grin on her face. It wasn’t really a typical spanking either. She rested her hand on my butt for a little while in between smacks, sometimes even squeezing it a bit. It was embarrassing and the spanking part hurt, but the more gentle stuff felt kinda good. After a minute she suddenly reached underneath me and put her hand on my crotch like she was checking to see if I was hard. And if course, I was.

“Perv.” She gave me another hard whack on the ass, then let me up and went back to the kitchen. I followed slowly, my rear end smarting and my dick hard as a rock. I watched Cassie’s butt as she walked, suddenly feeling more horny than I ever had in my life. She went back to the sink and a few seconds later I moved up from behind and grabbed her, my dick pressing against her ass. Even though I hadn’t planned it that way, my hands ended up right on her boobs. They felt warm and heavy and really nice in my palms.

“Stop it.” Cassie pulled my hands off her chest and wriggled away toward the counter.

I was way too turned on to listen. I caught her and put my hands back on her tits, squeezing them a little as I started rubbing against her like I’d done on her bed. I felt like I was going to cum even with our clothes still on. I kept expecting her to stop me again, but she didn’t. She just leaned forward, putting her hands on the counter as I played with her boobs and slowly humped her butt. After only a few minutes I started to cum, feeling a rush of sticky heat fill my underwear. I rested up against her for a bit, feeling her boobs moving slowly up and down in my hands as she breathed. It felt really neat.

Suddenly she turned around and pushed me down on my knees. I watched as she quickly undid her pants, her stiff cock falling out almost right away. I didn’t hesitate. I started sucking it, hearing Cassie groan softly as she flexed her hips toward my mouth. I reached around and started feeling her butt as I sucked on as much of her dick as I could. The look on her face told me that she was really enjoying it, and I started to wonder what having my own sucked would feel like. She put her hand on my head and ran her fingers roughly through my hair, then a few seconds later her cock got even harder and started squirting in my mouth. It didn’t taste as gross as I remembered, and I decided to swallow it and see what would happen. It didn’t kill me. Cassie moaned and leaned back against the countertop, and I kept sucking her gently until she pushed me away. She gave me a weird little smile as I stood up, then smacked me again on the butt.

“Okay,” she said, suddenly looking serious again. “Stop fucking around and finish your chores.”

A month went by. Cassie and I messed around a few more times but we didn’t really do anything different. Then it was my fourteenth birthday. Cassie had hinted earlier that she was going to give me something ‘special.’ Of course with her that could mean anything, so I wasn’t sure if I should be excited or afraid. I ended up forgetting about it entirely until the night of my birthday.

Everyone had gone to bed. I was almost asleep when I heard the quiet noise of someone opening my door. I rolled over on my back to look, and In the dim blue glow from my clock I could see it was Cassie. She didn’t say anything, she just sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the covers down to my knees. I was wearing only a pair of briefs. She reached out and put her hand flat on my stomach, resting it there for a second before running it slowly down along my thigh. I didn’t know what she was planning, but the way she was touching me was quickly getting me hard. She seemed to notice and moved her hand up over my crotch, rubbing my hardon lightly through my underwear. It felt great.

Cassie tugged my briefs down and leaned over, seeming to look at my dick for a while. Then I held my breath as she suddenly grabbed my cock and lowered her head down to it, sliding it almost all the way into her mouth before she started moving her lips and sucking. Oh. My. God. It felt so warm and wet. My whole body started trembling and I felt my hips pushing up like I was trying to hump her mouth. I hadn’t imagined that anything could feel so good. It only took her a minute or so to make me cum, and all I could do was lay there and gasp as I felt my dick jump and start exploding in her mouth. Cassie slowed down but didn’t stop. I couldn’t tell if she was swallowing it or not, but she didn’t take her mouth away even after I was done. I was still so hard it almost hurt. When it was obvious that I wasn’t going soft she started blowing me again, holding my cock around the base while she rubbed my thigh with her free hand. I watched her head bob up and down, thinking how incredibly hot it was that she was sucking my dick. This time I lasted a lot longer and was able to enjoy it more. When I came in her mouth again it was over with quicker than the first time, but it felt even more intense.

Cassie let go of my cock and sat up, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. She looked at me and grinned as she smacked me lightly on the thigh.

“Happy Birthday, Knob,” she whispered.

“Thanks.” I meant it. That was easily the best present I’d ever gotten. She threw the covers back over me and left. I fell asleep almost immediately.

More time passed. I started becoming friends with a girl I knew at school. Her name was Gail and she was kind of shy and nerdy, but in a cute way. We were hanging out more and even went over to each others' houses a few times, though it still seemed like just a ‘friends’ thing. There were plenty of times when we were alone together but I was too nervous to try anything. I wasn’t sure that she wanted me to anyway.

Then Gail mentioned that her parents were taking a trip and wouldn’t be home all weekend. She seemed even shyer than usual when she asked if I’d like to come over on Friday night after they left. I think I said yes, though my pulse was suddenly pounding so hard that it drowned everything out. My imagination was racing all week long as I wondered what she had in mind. I wasn’t really expecting to get in her pants or anything. Despite what had already happened with Cassie I would’ve been happy just making out with a girl, even though I was worried I’d mess it up somehow.

By Friday afternoon I was so nervous I could barely keep still. I was sitting on my bed watching the clock when a sudden sound from my doorway make me jump. It was Cassie, standing there with a smirk on her face.

“Lemme guess,” she said, “you’re sneaking over to your girlfriend’s house tonight.” My sister leaned up against the door and crossed her arms, the teasing grin never leaving her face. “Want me to buy you some condoms? Lube maybe?”

“We’re just friends, ok?”

“Yeah, right. That’s why your hands are shaking. What, afraid she’s gonna molest you and take your precious virginity?”

I glared at her, hoping her head would melt.

“Well fine,” she said, straighening up and turning to leave. “I *was* going to offer you some advice, but if you’re just gonna be a little douche, forget it.”

I sat there for a few minutes as I fought a painful battle with my ego. When it finally surrendered, I got up and went to Cassie’s room where she was busy folding clothes.

“What advice?” I asked, hoping she wasn’t just messing with my head.

“Oh nothing. I forgot you’re fourteen now. I’m sure you know everything there is to know about girls.”

I bit my tongue before I could say something stupid, like how she wasn’t exactly an absolute expert on girls either, what with her cock and all. “Hey, I know plenty. I just don’t wanna do anything that’ll gross her out. If something does happen, I mean.” I hesitated, feeling lame. “I haven’t exactly made out with a lot of girls or anything.”

Cassie looked at me. “You ever even kiss before?”

I stared at the floor, embarrased.

“Don’t sweat it, Knob. Its not hard. Just do it like they do in the movies.” I looked up and saw a wicked grin slowly spreading over her face. “Help me fold these and maybe I’ll show you a few things.”

I helped. When everything was folded neatly and put away, Cassie sat on the bed and motioned me to sit down next to her. I sat down, wondering exactly what it was that she planned to show me.

“Okay, the main thing is to start off slow.” She said, moving in and pulling my arm around her shoulders. “Don’t get too grabby and stuff, that’ll freak her out. Just get close and the rest kinda takes care of itself.”

I slid myself over further until her body was pressed snugly against mine, my hand resting on her upper arm. She smelled good. Cassie lifted her face up toward me and closed her eyes, her lips only inches away. I wasn’t sure how far she wanted to take this, but the opportunity was definitely there.

“This is the part where you kiss her, dumbass,” she said quietly.

I leaned in toward her, keeping my eyes open to watch her reaction as I touched my mouth to hers. Her lips felt incredibly soft and warm. She didn’t respond right away, but after a few seconds she started kissing me back. After a minute or so she opened her mouth and I felt her tongue pushing against my lips. I let it in and started chasing it with mine, my dick getting hard almost instantly. Kisses like that had always seemed gross when I saw other people doing it, but my opinion was quickly changing now that it was happening to me.

Cassie was slowly edging herself into my lap as our kissing got hotter. I pulled her closer against me, feeling her tits pressing firmly against my chest. She only kissed me harder and slid her hands around my waist.

It suddenly occurred to me that I was making out with my own sister. My response to that was to slide my hands down and grab her ass firmly with both hands. Cassie moaned and started sucking on my bottom lip. I got the feeling that she wasn’t playing around. I wasn’t exactly sure what was happening here, but I did know that I liked it.

After a few more minutes I let go of her ass and moved my hands up front. She moaned again as I palmed her boobs. I squeezed them and she started grinding herself slowly against my lap. I could feel the bulge of her hardon rubbing up against mine, and for some reason that made me hornier than ever. I broke the kiss and lowered her down onto the bed. I’d seen this part in movies before too, the part where they get naked and fuck like crazy.

Straddling her, I grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up. She surprised me a little by raising her arms and helping me take it off. With that out of the way, I reached under her back with the intent of taking her bra off too, but I couldn’t seem to unhook it for the life of me. Finally Cassie did it, and the second it came loose I caught her naked boobs in my hands and gave them a firm squeeze. It was my first time feeling them without her bra in the way, and they felt great. Warm and soft and firm all at the same time. I leaned in and kissed her again, feeling her nipples getting harder each time they brushed against my fingers. I suddenly wondered what they’d feel like in my mouth, and I decided to find out. I moved from sucking on Cassie’s tongue to sucking on one of her nipples. She gasped and moaned softly as I switched back and forth from one to the other. She seemed to really like what I was doing, but I was too damn horny to concentrate on it for long.

I undid her jeans and pulled them off. Her boxers joined them on the floor a few seconds later. I was a little surprised that she wasn’t trying to stop me. Cassie usually liked to make things difficult, but this time she was just laying there with her eyes closed. Naked. I’d never seen her fully naked before, and I had to stop for a minute just to take it all in. Her big firm boobs were rising and falling quickly with her breathing. I moved my eyes down her flat stomach and over the wide curves of her hips. Her dick was stiff and sticking almost straight up. I ran my hands slowly up and down over her smooth legs, suddenly at a loss for what to do next. She was so sexy that I wanted to touch all of her at once. I also had an incredibly strong urge to fuck her, but I couldn’t. So I did the only thing I could think of. I turned her over and undid my pants. I slid them down and off, then lay on top of her with my body pressed firmly down on hers. My dick nestled right up between the firm cheeks of her ass like it belonged there. Her naked skin felt awesome underneath me as I started humping against her butt.

Cassie was moving too, grinding her big ass up at me in little circles. It felt great, but I still wanted more. Then I got an idea. I gathered up a bunch of my spit and rubbed it over both my dick and the cleft of her ass. When I started moving again, the slipperyness felt much better. After a minute I decided to try something different. I took hold of my dick and started rubbing it up and down firmly over the length of her crack, sometimes poking it in to see what she’d do. She didn’t say anything, though she was breathing really fast and heavy. I applied a little more pressure, really liking how it felt to have the head of my dick wedged firmly between her cheeks.

Suddenly, I felt a sensation like something pushing back against the tip of my cock. I eased off a little and then pressed in again. Cassie groaned softly and something seemed to nip at the head of my dick. It took me a second to realize what it was. Her butthole. I froze for a moment. I knew that you could have sex that way too, but it was something I never imagined myself doing. A weird thrill shot through me, and I just had to see what would happen if I pushed a little more. She groaned again and I felt the pressure against the head of my cock increase.

“Wait…” Cassie said, her voice sounding unusually husky. “Top drawer…Vaseline.”

I jumped up and went to her dresser. Sure enough, there was a tube of vaseline in there. It was actually some kid of lotion, but it was good enough for me. My hands were shaking a little as I squirted some out and rubbed it all over my dick. I rubbed some more into the crack of her butt and quickly got back on top of her. I found the spot again and pushed slowly, this time feeling the pressure slowly spread around the head of my dick. It was going in. Then she clamped down on me and I almost came right there. After a second she relaxed again, and I felt my cock pushing a little deeper inside. It felt completely awesome. Her butthole kept clenching at my dick like it didn’t want it there. Cassie was gasping and digging her fingers into the sheets. For a second I wondered if it hurt, but then I felt my pubic bone come to rest against the soft skin of her butt and realized that I was all the way inside. Balls deep in her ass.

Instinct took over, and I grabbed her by the shoulders and started fucking her. It was so intense that I forgot about being gentle or anything else, the only thought in my head was the feeling of her butt squeezing down around my cock. Cassie squealed and squirmed underneath me, her voice alternating from low grunts to high-pitched squeaks. She might have been trying to push me off her, but by then I was too far gone. I felt her ass grabbing at my dick and her body shuddering underneath me, and with a final thrust I pushed in deep and started cumming harder than I ever had before in my life.

I shuddered, my cock jerking spastically in the tight grip of her butt. As the last pulses faded I fell limp on top of her body, my head spinning. She was panting and groaning softly, the muscles in her ass still trying to push me out. I started feeling guilty at how I’d lost control and pulled out of her as gingerly as I could. I checked my dick, feeling relieved when I didn’t find any blood or poop on it. I wiped it off with my underwear and sat down next to my sister. She hadn’t moved much. I wondered if she was ok. I started rubbing her back a little, hoping she wouldn’t hate me. After a few seconds she suddenly rolled over and punched me hard on the arm.

“Ow,“ I replied.

“Well that’s what you get. That hurt!”

“Sorry.” Looking more closely, I saw that the sheet underneath her and the middle of her stomach were all wet with cum. There was lot of it, and it sure wasn’t mine. “Doesn’t seem like it hurt *too* bad though.”

She realized what I was looking at and punched me again, but not as hard this time. She got up and grabbed a towel, seeming embarrassed as she wrapped it around herself and headed for the bathroom. I gathered up my clothes and left, still dazed by what just happened. I had another hour left before I was supposed to go over to Gail’s, but I definitely wasn’t feeling nervous anymore. When Cassie was done in the bathroom I went in to take a shower. A minute later she opened the door and poked her head in.

“Just don’t expect all your dates to go like that, Knob. You’re not even close to being that smooth.” She left before I could think of a witty response. Anyway she was probably right.

After my shower I went back to my room and got ready. I was still looking forward to seeing Gail, but I was nowhere near as excited as I’d been earlier. I’d just had sex with my sister. Real sex. In the butt. Anything else that happened that day was bound to be a letdown.
Fake Author

Although peaking in popularity after countless /b/ posts, the origins of MSIAD remained generally unknown. Internet historians as of recent have had no success in locating the original author or posting, although documentation of the tale dates back as far as 2007.

On a relatively unheard of, borderline fetishism forum titled "getDare", some shut-in named "Hoodison" reposted the story and claimed it as his own, despite it already being a staple of *chan copypasta-culture, and furthermore his failure to actually post the entire damn story. After the ignorant sick-fucks of "getDare" praised the bastard for his "amazing original work", he claimed the story was no more than a Gary Stu fantasy, despite, once more, it not being his.

Anonymous 21/02/05(Fri)05:32 No. 27169 ID: e201b6

by Russell Hoisington

Part One: Daddy’s Little Nurse

Chapter 1

Wynter held the telephone handset away from her ear and gently rested her other hand on the left arm cast of the man on the hospital bed. The worried frown under her blonde bangs marred the otherwise flawless skin of her pretty, oval face. “Daddy, it’s Nurse Carter. She got to the drug store, but then an avalanche blocked the road, and she can’t get back. The sheriff says it may be two days before the road is plowed ‘cause there’s a bunch of avalanches and it’s still snowing. Do you want me to hold the phone to your ear so you can talk to her?”
Richard King grunted an ironic laugh. He’d almost had to threaten Kevin Taylor to release him from the hospital early so that he could finish recuperating from the latest accident at home, and Kevin finally gave in only because the leg cast was below the knee. At home he could again convert a spare bedroom into a recovery room where he’d be more comfortable, he could pass the time by helping Angie home-school eleven-year-old Wynter, and things would be more convenient for everybody. Just hire a nurse—fortunately Ellen Carter happened to be available—to help Angie take care of him and things would be perfect.
Three days later—that was last Thursday—Angie’s company sent her to Geneva for three weeks on one day’s notice, and, yes, we’re sorry about your husband’s condition, but it’s Europe or the door, and you can take all the time you want to think it over as long as you don’t go over five seconds.
Next there was the freak spring snowstorm which to that moment had dropped eighteen inches of heavy, wet snow, and had an estimated three feet to go—though it could be more if the conditions changed, and the Weather Channel said they might. Thanks to Kevin Taylor’s pathetic handwriting, the pharmacist had refilled the pain medication prescription with a laxative. Nobody noticed until Ellen had started preparing tomorrow’s medicine doses from the open bottles and was one pain pill short, sending her to town in near-blizzard conditions, racing on treacherous mountain roads to get there and back with the proper medicine before the roads closed. Only she didn’t make it back.
But, he admitted, at least she wasn’t caught in the avalanche.
Better yet, she had discovered the laxatives before he took any of them. Obviously things could have been worse. He looked at the casts on both arms and his right lower leg and foot and shook his head, though not in response to the question, even if that was his answer.
“No. Just ask her if she can get home. If not, tell her I’ll pay for a motel room for her.” Wynter checked and reported that the roads in town were still reasonably good, a term that meant natives could drive on them with reasonable safety, but they would be guaranteed suicide for Texans and Californians. Richard nodded. “Tell her to go home and let us know when she’s on her way back. You can call her there when we have questions. You wanted to be a nurse someday—well, someday has arrived, honey. You are now Daddy’s new nurse.”
When Wynter started to protest, Richard gently cut her off. “Honey, there’s nobody else here except Dragon, and I don’t think he’ll be much help.”
Dragon, sprawled in the bedroom doorway like eighty pounds of spilled coal, lifted his head and thumped his tail when he heard his name. His tail stopped when he heard the tone in Wynter’s voice as she relayed her father’s instructions. He slowly rose, twisting his head about while watching her. He slowly padded over to her side, looked up at her face, and began whimpering as she hung up the phone. He then rubbed his head against her hip. She jumped when his cold, wet nose grazed her bare leg at the hem of her yellow knit shorts.
Wynter placed her right hand on her father’s left arm cast, carefully avoiding the daisies and tulips she had drawn with felt-tip pens. Her left rose to grasp the long blonde ponytail which draped over her left shoulder and hung to the top of the small breast that he subconsciously knew was budding in a training bra within the loose, shapeless white top. Tears seeped from her large, bright, blue-green eyes. “Daddy, I don’t know what to do! Nurse Carter and I have talked, and I still want to do it when I’m grown up, but I can’t be a nurse now! I’ll mess it up and you might be hurt!”
Richard laughed softly and shook his head. Wynter was an incurable perfectionist who, while tolerant of other people’s errors, couldn’t endure any mistakes of her own. She was also far smarter and more capable than she gave herself credit for, but emotionally she had become very sensitive. She would go to pieces over nothing if she wasn’t handled properly. He assumed it was caused by the hormonal struggles of puberty. Little girl and young woman often struggled within her, and too many times, despite Wynter’s own wishes, the little girl won. This was one of those times.
“Honey, I really don’t think I’d be hurt any worse than I already am. My little truck got hit by that big diesel pickup and knocked down the hillside, but that did only this much damage to me. You’re smaller than a one-and-a-half-ton pickup by at least a ton,” he said with wide eyes and an exaggerated grin.
Her even, white teeth peeked through as a smile forced itself onto her sweet, coral lips, but her the rest of her angelic face remained uncertain.
Richard’s voice became gentle and soothing. “Honey, you nursed Dragon back to health practically by yourself. I promise you I won’t be as much trouble as he was.”
Wynter had found the abandoned, almost dead Labrador retriever puppy down the hill in the ditch near their mailbox on the County Road. Both Richard and Angie wanted to put the pathetic animal out of his misery. They were surprised that Wynter, who couldn’t stand to see anyone or anything suffer, insisted that he would recover. Although the vet had agreed with Richard and Angie, he gave Wynter pain medication for the puppy, some liquid vitamins, and some oral antibiotics to supplement several injections. To her parents’ surprise their mother-hen daughter had the puppy on his feet in two days, though he dragged his tail for another week, thus inspiring his name.
Richard smiled at her. “Honey, I can tell you what’s wrong with me. Dragon couldn’t do that, yet you brought him back from the brink of death. I’m nowhere near there. I promise.”
“But what if I make a mistake?” she asked in a pleading whine.
Richard winked. “Then we’ll know you’re human and not some pretty blonde sprite your mother found under a cabbage leaf, won’t we? Of course, I already know that because I had to deliver you,” he said with eyes wide and an exaggerated complaint in his voice. “And do you see an obstetrician’s license on any of these walls? Or a medical degree of any kind? Heck no! But I delivered you anyway because your mother and I were snowed in just like this and you insisted on being born two weeks early. ‘I don’t know nothin’ about birthin’ no babies!’ at that time was as true for me as ‘I can’t be a nurse now’ is for you.”
His voice softened and he turned on the charming smile that usually helped calm her down. “But I did what I had to do because I didn’t have any choice. And you certainly turned out okay. I will, too, because you already know more about nursing than I knew about delivering babies.” He glanced at her long, slender-fingered hand. “I’m in good hands.”
She smiled again, though the uncertainly remained in her eyes, and leaned down to give him a gentle daughter-type kiss with her soft, warm lips. “I’ll try my hardest.” Her tone told Richard she was trying to sound like an adult, but the little girl was still winning the battle.
“I already know that, honey. You’ll do fine. I’m the one who’s always been accident-prone. If one of us has to be in charge of me, I’m much better off if it’s you.” Which was true. Richard had scars on top of scars over much of his trim, athletic body. It was a miracle that none marred the ruggedly handsome features of his square-jawed face. People seeing him in swimming trunks usually mistook him for a rodeo performer or stock car racer instead of a geologic engineer.
Her bright laugh suddenly faded, her eyes went wide, and a strange look crossed her face—not horror, not revulsion, but something else; something Richard couldn’t define. But he knew well the look of near-panic that immediately replaced it.
“Oh, no!”
“What’s wrong, honey?”
Wynter’s round cheeks and even her long, slender arms turned bright crimson. The flush spread up her face and disappeared under her bangs. “A couple of days? And she said she’d had to remove the catheter this morning….”
“Oh.” Richard understood, though he knew Ellen hadn’t told Wynter why she’d had to remove the catheter. “Well, bedpan and urinal duty is part of becoming a nurse. You’ll have had practice when you get to nursing school.”
“But—I can’t—You’re my father! I can’t…..”
“No. Listen to me, Wynter! No. In that case, I’m not your father. I’m just Mister King, your patient. Okay? Or maybe think of it as babysitting, but without diapers to make an even bigger mess of things. Honey, I can’t make it to the toilet for another couple of weeks, and when I can, I’ll probably fall off and hurt myself all over again. I can’t hold it until Ellen can get back, or I’ll explode! Try explaining that to your mother when she returns and sees the condition of this room!”
The red glow hadn’t abated, despite the gentle laugh the comments drew. She remained head down and eyes locked on the flowers on his cast. Richard knew she hadn’t seen either of her parents nude since she was very young. She probably couldn’t grasp the concept that her parents not only had genitals and a sexual relationship, they had an extremely active sex life—or did have except when one or the other was away on business. He doubted she ever thought about sex until floods of hormones began racing through her bloodstream, triggering new feelings, new growth, and sudden awareness of her own femininity and latent sexuality. He wondered if, even now, she thought of herself as a sexual being. He was convinced that the answer was an unqualified “No.”
Thanks to Angie, Wynter knew about the academic side of sex but she was ignorant from the practical aspect. Richard was convinced that the only dick she had seen after her second birthday was when she helped her Aunt Diane change baby Christopher’s diaper last summer.
All of her friends were girls, as were the other children in Angie’s circle of home schooling parents that sometimes met for group lessons. She knew a few boys casually but never spent any time with them. She spent almost no time with the girls, giving her little chance to learn from other kids’ gossip. Most of her life had been spent with just Angie and himself. She knew far more about interacting with adults than with her peers.
Richard thought about that and was sad for her. She might be academically prepared for college in a few years, but she would have a difficult time with the social aspects, especially if she retained her trim, willowy figure and her beautiful, delicate facial features. Boys would be asking her out before she’d finished registration, and she would be lost.
“Listen,” he said softly. She raised an eyebrow. He waited until her eyes lifted to meet his. “It will be a little awkward for both of us, but we’ll manage because we have to, you as the professional nurse and me as the professional patient. Okay?”
She nodded and gave him a weak smile.
Richard relaxed back into his pillows and wiggled his shoulders to adjust them. “Now—what’s for supper?”


Salisbury steak was on the menu, and she had just begun preparing it when Nurse Carter called. Mother Angie had done a wonderful job of passing her considerable kitchen skills on to Wynter. Still, even if Wynter could cook no better than Aunt Diane, the results would still have been an improvement over the hospital’s food, which her father had described as being what the airlines rejected for being “below even their pathetic standards.”
Wynter checked to see that the intercom was active, turned the television volume up for her father, and retreated to the kitchen. Dragon followed, the constant shadow that rarely left her presence except for his “doggie trips” outside.
He had to make a doggie trip near the end of cooking. He sat in front of the utility room door and yipped once. She opened the door for him. The door from the utility room to the back side of the sprawling ranch house had an insulated, magnetically sealed doggie door. That door led to a sheltered area for Dragon that was protected from all but blowing snow and to the generator shed. If they lost power Wynter knew how to start the generator, which ran off the house’s main propane supply.
When Dragon returned to the utility room he again yipped once. Wynter opened the door and let him back in. “All better now, Dragon?” He wagged his tail in reply, content that she had shown interest in him, then curled up on the braided rug by the door.
She dished servings onto the plates, put them on a tray along with silverware, and removed two glasses from a cabinet. She turned to the refrigerator for the milk and froze.
Dragon was sitting up, his long, reddish tongue bathing an even redder, swollen penis-thingy which was sticking from its pocket under his tummy. She didn’t know if he was washing it, scratching an annoying itch, or masturbating. Mother had told her the last term and what it meant, but it wasn’t something Wynter had ever done. Lately, though, she’d occasionally experienced an odd itchy sensation down_ there_, but it eventually went away on its own in due time. She flushed almost as red as the long, hard thing that Dragon was licking, uncertain whether to stop him, as she once did, or not. While she was trying to decide, the odd, itchy sensation returned.
She was so upset that she almost forgot to get a bent straw for her father’s milk.

Chapter 2

Richard washed down his six o’clock pills with a sip of milk and then complained that Wynter had overcooked them and they were tough. He was appropriately apologetic when she replied, “Smarty-pantses get sent to their rooms without supper.” She accepted his apology with a big smile and kissed the end of his nose and lips, a special ritual between them that was almost as old as she was.
They talked about her music lessons, Ellen Carter, and nursing school as she alternated feeding bites to him and to herself. It was a chore she had assigned herself upon his return from the hospital, and neither Angie nor Ellen had tried to change her mind. She was quite good at it, though in her own fussy way she always used separate forks and even separate knives, despite her father’s assurances that they wouldn’t give each other cooties. When they were finished, Richard complimented her on both her culinary skill and her skill at feeding him. She dropped her head and focused on the empty plates, embarrassed by the praise, but pleased as well.
She put the utensils in the dishwasher before they watched a half-hour nature program on The Discovery Channel, and then Richard said he wanted to be entertained. He was willing to listen to her play the piano down the hall, but she refused, saying the acoustics would distort the music. Instead, she reluctantly fetched her flute. Richard smiled to himself; his plan had worked.
Wynter normally practiced her flute lessons softly and with her door closed or, in the summer, down the hill where she sat on the big flat rock and dangled her feet in the creek. The only way her parents usually heard her play was when they’d sneak next to her door and quietly listen. She was embarrassed that she wasn’t as proficient on the flute as she was on the piano. It was bad enough that she had to hear her own errors, which usually produced a strong, ”Drat!“ that also could just be heard through the closed door. She didn’t want others hearing them as well. Thus she was predictably upset when, at the end of a half hour, she had made five errors, though none were major.
“That’s the problem with listening to recorded music instead of live performances,” Richard said. “The engineers cut and paste, editing out the errors on the music they sell. I’m sure that when they were eleven years old Jean-Luc Ponty, James Galway, and Ian Anderson made just as many mistakes, and they still make some. You just don’t know because you haven’t heard them live.”
“Jean-Pierre Rampal,” she corrected with a sudden laugh that chased away her growing frown. “Jean-Luc Ponty plays the violin.”
“See! Speaking of making mistakes. Anyway, I’ll bet Ponty made them, too.”
He had deliberately switched the names, and he knew that she knew it, but the laugh had preempted her funk. He hoped it would make the next thing easier.
The smile vanished, she stiffened, and the blush returned with a vengeance. Something in his tone had tipped her off, despite his attempt to sound normal. The speech he’d been silently rehearsing for the past five minutes evaporated.
“I’m sorry, honey, but I’ve waited as long as I can. The urinal should be under the foot of the bed.”
He guided her through putting a flat, firm pillow below his butt to raise him slightly and then had her raise the upper part of the bed until he was sitting almost upright. She had to pause twice to adjust the suspension of his arm casts, but because she was such a perfectionist he experienced less discomfort than when Ellen did it.
Slowly, gently, but with some sense of urgency because he had waited until he thought his bladder was about to explode, he talked her through removing the limp three inches from his pajamas, uncovering the head of his uncircumcised spigot, inserting it into the neck of the urinal, and then holding everything steady with the tips of her long, gentle fingers while he voided his urine. He spoke not as a father to his daughter, but as an instructor to a student. The professional tone appeared to ease a little of her anxiety.
A soft groan of relief vibrated in his throat as the hydraulic pressure eased. For a moment he had thought she would go looking for rubber gloves, and he knew he couldn’t wait for her to put them on, even if they’d been beside him on the bed. When his piss tank was half-empty he was able to resume thinking. It was as if the top of his bladder had been squeezed against his brain, paralyzing his mind.
Without looking directly at her he was able to observe that she was carefully avoiding looking at him, yet her eyes were being involuntarily drawn to the unusual fleshy object in her right hand. She’d immediately look away, but her eyes would creep back on their own. His sympathy grew as the pain from his distended bladder shrank. Her prim and proper side was fighting with her curiosity on a fluid battlefield.
He almost laughed at the unintended pun, but that would have been disastrous for Wynter’s fragile—he almost thought the word “grip,” but then he would have laughed. He forced himself to wonder if “id,” “ego,” or “superego” was correct. He should have paid more attention to his college professor in that elective psychology class, but he took that only to pay more attention to Mickey Adams and her round, firm, high, B-cup…
NO! Change the subject!
He began pondering what to say to Wynter after his piss break. It didn’t really take his mind off his dick, but it helped keep him from thinking about what he wanted somebody—anybody!—to do with it. Richard didn’t want to draw unwarranted attention to what she had, of necessity, done, but he also didn’t want to say nothing to her. That, in itself, would draw immediate attention because he always praised her actions. He also didn’t want to treat the incident as if it weren’t “normal” nursing duties like feeding him. The teacher/student tone had helped earlier, and he used it again when he was finished.
“Men have extra valves and angles that women don’t have, and it causes a small amount of urine to remain trapped inside the penis.” His eyes remained steady on hers. “It eventually leaks out, causing a sanitation and odor problem for both the patient and anyone else in the vicinity. Move your thumb next to the body on top and one or two fingers across from the thumb at the bottom.” He paused while she did so, her eyes dropping to watch what she was doing. “Now squeeze gently and push it out the end.”
He waited while she slowly pulled forward. “That was a little bit too gentle. Do it again, but squeeze harder. You won’t break it.”
He almost repeated the last instruction, but, to his horror, realized that her light grip was more like a gentle caress to the increasingly horny Beast, and that his body was about to react normally to that stimulation. Instead, he said, “Okay, put the urinal down and put everything away.”
She kept his organ lightly gripped in the fingers of her right hand while her left put the urinal on the roll away table. She used her left hand to hold the fly open while she replaced his slowly swelling syphon tube. Richard saw her eyes suddenly widen and incorrectly assumed that she had noticed that it was beginning to swell. What had actually surprised her, keeping her from noticing the slow expansion, was the scar tissue she saw and its location.
Both exhaled in almost-silent relief when she pulled the sheet up to his waist. Richard decided to say nothing about the boner throbbing in his pajamas. He hoped it wouldn’t be noticeable through the sheet. It shouldn’t be while he was sitting up.
“That was very professional and well done, Nurse King. Ellen couldn’t have done a better job.” He hoped that was the right thing to say, and it appeared to be no worse than anything else, though she remained a bright red. “Go empty that first, before some accident-prone patient finds a way to knock it over, and then you can readjust that patient’s bed.”
She gave him an embarrassed nod, but she did meet his eyes, and then took the urinal to the hall bathroom. Dragon, of course, followed her, leaving him alone in the room with his thoughts.
What was he to do next time? He couldn’t tell her not to strip the last of the piss out of his dick, not after the explanation he’d just given her for doing so. What if it exploded into a throbbing, blue-steel diamond cutter right in her warm, soft, gentle hand, before she could put it away? What if she had actually noticed that it was about to do so this time and had recognized it for what it was? What if, what if, what if? There were a hundred questions, and he could sit up all night without resolving any of them.
He would just have to manage the best he could. He should ensure that she understood she was supposed to squeeze harder. Make her understand that his dick was tough as a garden hose, not weak as overcooked spaghetti, before she stripped it. Most of all, maintain the detached, professional patient/nurse relationship that—so far—was working with Ellen.
But, by damn, her little hand had felt so good!

Chapter 3

Richard surrendered, realizing he wasn’t about to win. Wynter refused to sleep in her own bed, even though her room was directly across the hall. “What if you need me, and I don’t hear you? I don’t want to explain that to Mother.” That was her one and final argument to end the “discussion.” She briefly disappeared into her room—with her four-legged shadow following, of course—closed the door, and emerged after a few minutes cocooned in a shapeless, cream-colored, long-sleeved flannel robe that reached to mid-calf. She had her sleeping bag under one arm and an air mattress and pillows under the other.
Ellen had slept in the guest room next to Wynter’s and depended on the intercom to bring her if Richard needed her. Wynter, of course, worried that the electricity might go out, and the intercom would cease working.
When her bed was ready she gave Richard his pills. He had her replace the pain pill with ibuprofen, rationing the stronger medication for when he might desperately need it. Then she brought out the urinal again. Somehow he managed to avoid erecting in her soft little hand when she again failed to squeeze the monster hard enough, though it sprang up in his pajamas as she was carrying the urinal out the door. Not only was he hornier than a priest at a convention of altar boys, his “problem” was growing more painful.
Richard would have given almost anything to have his fingers, if not a whole hand, free at that moment, but Kevin Taylor had insisted that his fingers and hands remain immobilized for another week to insure that he didn’t permanently lose any of their function or range of motion. Could he think of an excuse for her to put the pillow in his lap, where he could hump it after she went to sleep?
No, and besides, how would he explain the mess the next day?
After she had replaced the urinal, removed the pillow, and lowered his bed to his satisfaction, she disappeared to brush her teeth and free her hair from its ponytail. When she was convinced that there was nothing left for her to do for him, she kissed him goodnight after a quick kiss on his nose and lips. The fresh spearmint smell of her breath reminded him of how funky his own breath must be. He found himself wishing his own breath was as fresh for her because he didn’t want to offend her. However, it was late, and in the morning she would brush his teeth after breakfast, as usual. In her mother hen mode she reminded him to awaken her if he needed anything, then turned out the light.
Richard was barely able to see her slip out of her robe and into her sleeping bag. She was just gray, shapeless movement in the dark rather than discernible features. For an instant he wished he could see what she looked like in her pajamas, but quickly put that idea out of his head. He attributed the thought to extreme unrelieved horniness aggravated by the gentle touch of her sweet lips to his.
He heard, rather than saw, Dragon sniff her to see if something was wrong since she was on the floor instead of her bed, then curl beside her and heave a massive sigh. Lucky dog! screamed across his mind unbidden.
He was still worrying about how the morning would go when he drifted off.


It was a little after six when he called to her. He’d been awake for several minutes, waiting for the erection left over from his erotic dream to subside, but it was also a piss-hard-on and was slow in deflating. A little light was coming through the curtains, but the room was not as brightly lit as it would have been if not for the snowstorm.
She was slow to awaken enough to understand that he needed her. When that sank in she became wide awake.
“I’m sorry, honey. I waited as long as I could, but I need the urinal. Quickly.”
She sprang up, startling Dragon, who prowled the room and then the hallway looking for danger, then sat watching her when he found none. In her haste she hadn’t bothered reaching for her robe. Richard rarely saw her in her pajamas. Because the occupied rooms in the house in general and his recovery room in particular were kept warm, she was comfortable in a loose, pink babydoll that he’d never seen before, unless maybe he’d seen it in the laundry basket, but not on her. It was thin but opaque and had roomy armholes and a scooped neckline. She hadn’t quite grown into it yet.
She stood between him and the lamp, and when she switched on the light the opaque babydoll became translucent, outlining the slim body it covered. She turned and went to the foot of the bed to retrieve the urinal. Her pajamas regained their opacity with her first step, but the picture had been imprinted in his memory as if he were a camera.
He fought to clear his mind of the image of the narrowing of the waist above her hipbones and the ripple of her rib cage. Most of all he struggled to clear the image of the small mound capped by a smaller cone thrusting proudly outward from her chest. By the time she had him upright, with the pillow under his ass and his arms suspended, he had the Beast under control.
She used the index finger and thumb of each hand to daintily separate his fly, then pulled out his organ with two fingers and the thumb of her right hand. She held it that way while she picked up the urinal from beside him and mated the spigot to the receptacle. She was blushing, but not as brightly as before. This time she spent only half as much time looking away from his dick. For some perverse reason, Richard found that exciting, and he had to again fight the urges of the Beast.
He reminded her to squeeze harder this time when she stripped the last of the urine from his penis. But Wynter had realized that her previous efforts had been less than adequate. Instead of squeezing it between thumb and fingers, she wrapped her index finger and thumb around it, squeezed, and pulled. Twice. While doing so, she leaned forward.
All his efforts to fight the Beast failed with his view through the arm opening: a firm, white mound less than half the size of a baseball and the sweet pink nipple thrusting out from its center. His dick felt the strokes that almost duplicated Angie’s when she masturbated him. His cock hardened with an explosive speed that he’d not experienced since high school.
“Oh my god!“ Wynter cried.
Until that moment Richard had never heard Wynter say anything stronger than “Drat,” and her outburst stunned him. He was more stunned by the realization that his daughter was standing there with a urinal of piss in one hand and his throbbing cock rocket in her other. She hadn’t released her grip on either, and was staring wide-eyed at the six-plus inches of the latter. Her lower jaw and lip were trembling.
“Daddy?“ The brittle tone of panic permeated her voice.
Richard’s face flushed as crimson as hers. “Oh, honey, I—I am so—so sorry that it happened,” he stammered.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, honey, you didn’t do anything wrong. Did—uh—did your mother explain men’s—uh—erections to you?”
“Sort of. You mean that’s all this is?” She held it without movement in her soft, warm hand and continued to stare at it.
In other circumstances Richard might have taken offense at his magnificent boner being referred to as “that’s all?” by any female, but he was still too distressed to think about that. The heat of her touch was maddening and exciting, but Wynter was a juvenile and she was his daughter. He tried to will the Beast into submission, but the warmth of her touch and the lingering vision of her budding young breast were stronger than his will.
“Honey, it’s something that just happens sometimes when we have no control over it. It’s a—a reflex. Like a yawn that you can’t control.”
Her blonde eyebrows drew together and her mother hen worries began to assert themselves, overriding her panic. “Does it hurt?”
Richard still couldn’t tame the savage Beast, but he gained some control over his own embarrassment. After all, he was the one who had said she shouldn’t be embarrassed while being his nurse. It would be hypocritical to tell Wynter not to be embarrassed, yet for him to do so himself. Richard hated fewer things more than hypocrites. He might as well use the opportunity to answer questions Angie couldn’t in an adult-to-adult manner. She’s not my daughter; she’s my student. “No. Well, it’s not a pain-type hurt, anyway. It’s more like—I don’t know. Hunger? That’s really not a good example, but it’s the best I can think of.”
“What should I do now?” she asked in a soft voice tinged with uncontrollable concern, if not worry. Fortunately the panic had left her voice.
“Well, first put the urinal down before you spill anything, and then put it away like you did before. It will go back down eventually.”
“It will?” she asked, still in the soft voice. Suddenly she seemed embarrassed by what she had asked, though her face was already red, and turned to put the urinal on the stand. Her warm little hand never released its grip on his turgid cock, and the turning of her body caused her hand to tug slightly. The sensation was better than any handjob he’d ever had, even the unforgettable one from Betsy Richards in the tenth grade.
Not if you keep that up, he thought, but aloud he tried to ease her worries with a joke. “What goes up must come down.”
Wynter gave him an odd, undefinable look, then turned her attention to his fly and the erect Beast in her right hand. Her left tried to pry the opening wider.
Richard was wearing the one set of pajamas with the small fly—obviously designed by either some short-dicked loser or somebody too old to get it up now—and she had to struggle. When he jerked involuntarily, and a wince of pain flashed across his face, she saw it and froze.
“You said it didn’t hurt!“ Her tone was a damning accusation.
“It didn’t. It doesn’t. Normally. It’s just that…. Well—it’s a long story and, uh—well, I guess you’re old enough to know. You might need to know some day when you’re married.” He didn’t even want to think the phrase, “When you begin dating.”
A flash of fear passed over her delicate features. “I will?”
“Honey, I said you might. Do you see all that scar tissue where my penis and scrotum meet?”
She nodded. “I saw it the first time I… uh—the first time.” Her eyes dropped to look again, but flicked back to his face almost immediately.
“Skiing accident when you were about a year old,” he said. “In addition to breaking my leg, I broke the ski, and the jagged edge jabbed me there. I gave myself a vasectomy—that’s an operation that keeps men from making babies any more—without benefit of an anesthetic or a doctor. The emergency room doctor said that I was lucky that I could still… uh—that your mother and I could still make love because I’d almost severed a nerve that helps cause the erection. But that’s the reason you don’t have any brothers or sisters.”
Wynter said nothing, but she was awestruck at the idea that her father was actually talking to her as if she were another grownup. Meanwhile, her grip on his penis-thingy—no, just penis, what a grownup would call it—remained firm, unintentionally causing it to remain firm, too.
“As a result of the damage, plus what the doctor had to do to keep me from bleeding to death, I—well—I have sort of a permanent problem now. The doctor says it sometimes happens to men who have had vasectomies, too, so if your future husband has one some day, then he might have the same problem.”
Wynter wondered why on earth her future husband would want to have a vasectomy “some day,” but said nothing to keep from destroying the magical feeling of being treated like an grownup.
“A vasectomy keeps a man’s sperm cells from being released in his semen, but semen is made up of liquids from several different glands. They keep producing the liquids all the time, and eventually the pressure causes discomfort, especially if there’s some damage left over from an accident or operation. I guess it’s sort of like the discomfort your mother feels just before her period, when other fluids accumulate in her tissues. Maybe it happens to you, too.”
Wynter flushed slightly with embarrassment as she lowered her eyes and nodded, and then flushed again in anger with herself. Here was her father talking to her like she was a grownup, and she was reacting like a child!
Her eyes had landed on his erect penis in her hand. She was still holding it! Should she release it? Her father hadn’t said anything about it, so perhaps if she did release her grip she would appear to be acting like a child again.
Besides, it had a—well—a nice feel about it, all warm and, oddly enough, both hard and soft at the same time. It was a pleasant sensation and….
Maybe it was because the comment about the discomfort of her period caused her to think about there, but she suddenly realized that the odd itchy feeling had returned. She tried to ignore it and looked back into her father’s loving green eyes.
“So it’s a monthly problem for you, too?” she asked, hoping she sounded grownup.
Richard chuckled. “I wish. It gets uncomfortable after about five days.”
“Oh my goodness! Every five days?” She thought that sounded very grownup and was pleased with herself for not blushing.
“Well, not exactly. Five days or so after it starts building up again.”
She looked puzzled at him for a few seconds, but then her eyes widened as she realized what he meant. “Oh. And since Mother isn’t here….” She didn’t finish the sentence, hoping that would keep her from blushing again. Then she frowned. “But when she goes out of town for a week or two, you hurt while she’s gone?”
Mother hen had returned. Wynter hated the thought that her father had to suffer whenever her mother was away. She hated for anyone to suffer, but especially someone she knew and most especially somebody she loved.
“Uh, not exactly.” It was Richard’s turn to try suppressing the red face. He also fought to suppress the urge to hump his aching dick in her fist. His daughter’s hand was warm and snug around the middle of his shaft, and the tension in her outstretched arm caused it to move slightly, sending tiny waves of pleasure pulsing outward through his body. He could just imagine what it would feel like if she were to tighten her fist around it and pound her arm up-and-down. Which, of course, was why his erection was refusing to subside. “When it gets too uncomfortable, I can relieve the pressure myself. Or could when my hands and arms were free.”
“Daddy, Mother won’t be back for two more weeks, and you’ll be in those casts for another week. I don’t want you to hurt until then!” Her eyes seemed to flick involuntarily to his cock and they back to his eyes before she asked in a low voice, “What—what can I do to help you get better?” The young woman lost the inner struggle to the little girl then, and her gaze shifted aside, locking on the corner of his pillow so that she didn’t have to meet his eyes, even though she was furious at herself for doing so.
Richard licked his suddenly dry lips. “Honey, there’s nothing you can do now. I’ll just have to wait. The pain pills help some.”
“Some? Just some? But you’re almost out of pain pills. Does the ibu…—ibu….”
“It helps a little. Honey, please put it away before I change my mind.”
Wynter grasped what that statement implied. “If—if you can change your mind, then—then there is something I can do! To help,” she stammered, angry with herself because she couldn’t control her blushing like a child. “If—if you could make it better with your hand, then—uh, I—I—I can do it with mine. For you. To help you. Just tell me how.”
Each refusal Richard made was more difficult than the previous, both because he knew she was seriously trying to help him and because he wanted the relief as much as a junkie wanted heroin. He smiled to keep his words he didn’t want to say from sounding like a rebuke. “Honey, you can’t. I’m your father.”
“NO!“ The intensity of her refusal surprised them both. “You’re not my father, you’re my patient! You said so yourself.” The picture of how Dragon’s tongue licked his hard, red penis-thingy floated before her. The odd itchy sensation also reappeared, but she was practiced at ignoring that.
She gently released his erect member, lowering it to his abdomen rather than letting it snap back. Although he knew that she had done the correct thing, Richard wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or disappointed. Then he gasped. Wynter had started stroking along it the way Dragon’s tongue moved. She lightly pressed her fingertips against the hot meat near the head, gently stroked downward to his balls, and then lifted her hand to repeat the process.
When he squeezed his eyes shut and moaned with pleasure, she misinterpreted the sound and stopped. Her blonde brows came together and she started at his tightly-squeezed eyes. “Am I doing it wrong? Did I hurt you?” she asked, worry roughing the edges of her words and tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. “It seems to be getting bigger. Is it s’posed to do that?”
He focused on her sweet young face, not wanting to encourage her to continue, but, in absolute honesty, not wanting her to stop, either. For the first time in his life, Richard King really did understand the saying, “A hard dick has no conscience.”
“No, honey, it felt really good. There is no ‘wrong’ way to do it,” he said, trying to encourage her without encouraging her, “unless it’s something that’s painful. I’ve never felt it done like that before, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. One of the nice things about sex is that people can always find something new that feels good.”
“What feels best?” Wynter asked, still frowning. The thrill caused by his talking to her like she was a grownup was cancelled by the thought that she wasn’t using the best possible treatment for her father’s—her patient’s—need. She kept her fingers pressed against his penis-thingy—his penis, she corrected herself again—and wondered whether she should pick it up. It occasionally throbbed against her fingertips, and each time it did, she felt that odd, itchy sensation intensify down there, where she also seemed to be growing wetter. But she didn’t need to go potty that bad yet. She wondered if her “friend had come to visit” early, but if so, she wasn’t flowing rapidly. She could spare some time to care for her patient before she had to go find a pad for herself.


“What feels best?” Richard almost groaned at her question. Best was the way Angie could deep throat him while purring. When he was really horny, as horny as he was now, she could have him creaming her tonsils in thirty seconds, unless she chose to prolong the act. She could play his skin flute the way Wynter could play her metal one. But he couldn’t tell Wynter that. Besides, her question had actually been the best way to handjob him. He was rather partial to the warm massage oil that Angie used for stroking her right hand on his throbbing boner while…. Well, he couldn’t tell Wynter that, either.
Richard capitulated to his desire. He talked her through the steps of picking it up, wrapping her hand around it at the right spot, and jacking his joint without ripping off his foreskin on the down stroke. When she had mastered the procedure, he leaned his head back into his pillow, closed his eyes, and sighed. He knew he’d give himself hell after he’d shot his wad and reason returned, but he was going to enjoy every moment of his handjob while it happened.
He let his subconscious argue over whether to prolong the pleasure or seek immediate release and let his daughter put the Beast away. Thanks to her musical training, Wynter was able to maintain a constant rhythm as her hand glided up and down his staff, coaxing a symphony of pleasure waves from his organ and into his body. After a minute she stopped and he sensed her body moving. He opened his eyes and gasped in surprise, delight, and overwhelming desire as the strokes resumed.


Wynter had carefully followed her father’s instructions, adjusting the tightness of her grip and the length of her stroke until he was satisfied and lay back in his pillow. A few seconds after he closed his eyes, she lowered hers to watch what she was doing to his penis. She fought the urge to look away by telling herself that a grownup woman, a real nurse, wouldn’t look away, and besides, she needed to look or she might pull too far down.
At first she was glad he had his eyes closed and couldn’t see her red face. The red faded and she was quickly spellbound by the way the foreskin partially covered, then uncovered the larger, purple, mushroom head in time with her stroke. The knob appeared to swell slightly with her upstroke. The network of veins along the shaft gave it a lumpy texture that could be seen but not felt. She frowned slightly as she concentrated on the way that the shaft felt as her hand moved along it. The odd itchy sensation intensified.
The cast holding her father’s arm, suspended in front of her, was in her way just enough that she was worried about nudging it and causing him pain. She stopped stroking but retained her grip on the thingy—the penis—while she moved a little further toward the foot of the bed. She had to bend forward to keep her grip on her father’s erection. She braced a hip against the side of the bed and rested some of her weight on her left arm atop the mattress. As she resumed stroking his penis-thingy, she heard him gasp and looked toward his face as the erection seemed to swell bigger in her hand.
She looked toward his face and saw his eyes staring… where? Her father was looking down the neck of her top! It sagged enough to leave her growing young boobies displayed despite the hair streaming over her shoulders. She flushed in embarrassment and looked back to his eyes, but continued to stroke him as the odd itchy sensation seemed to consume her lower body.
“I’m going to cum,” he said, and she wondered if she understood him.
His eyes lifted to her red face, and he realized he’d been caught gaping at those small, sweet titties that had crowded everything else from his consciousness. “Oh, honey,” he said, “I’m sorry I was staring at you.”
Then, as if having their own independent mind, his eyes dropped to feast on her tender young boobies again. “Don’t stop rubbing until it’s over,” he begged. “Oh my god, that feels wonderful!“ he said before his words were replaced by a low, guttural rumble and his body stiffened.
“Okay,” she said softly in response to his request, pleased by his subsequent comment. She wasn’t sure of what to expect, but, like a grownup, she would manage if it would help her father—her patient, she corrected herself—find relief.
Her gaze flicked back and forth between Richard’s eyes and his hard penis. Even as his body tensed, to the point that his hips were rising, thrusting his throbbing pole higher, his eyes remained fixed down her neckline and on her boobies. Somehow, that was helping him, so she hunched her shoulders forward to drop the neckline lower. Her odd itch became maddeningly intense, and she squeezed her thighs together, causing a new sensation that was much more pleasant than the itch.
The stiff penis swelled in her hand. She looked down and saw the skin of the head stretched so tightly that it was shining. A thick, clear drop had formed at the opening, and it was displaced by another pushing upward. Shaken by her hand, it began trickling erratically down the tube. “My god, you’re so sexy!“ her father gasped in barely recognizable words before an animal growl forced its way out of his throat. Again she squeezed her thighs together to combat the distracting itch. And then it happened.
She held his throbbing penis upright and continued to stroke with the same rhythm. It pulsed in her hand. And again. And again. It kept pulsing as thick white liquid shot out the tip, hung in mid-air near eye level, and then dropped down the same path to splash on the penis head and her still-pumping fist. A second shot rose almost as high and also splashed down. The third was half the height of the first. The fourth rose only a couple of inches. Another two or three rose slightly and flowed down over her slimy hand to puddle with the rest soaking into the front of his pajamas. Her slick hand, coated with the hot, gooey stuff, began sliding on the rigid pole, and he gasped with more pleasure. Wynter smiled. She was being a good nurse and helping her patient.
The aroma of his semen reached her nose, and the itchy sensation exploded anew. She squeezed her thighs together again and wished the dratted distraction would go away.
He finally said she could stop. She was surprised to discover that she didn’t want to stop, but he was the patient. Her hand slowed for two more strokes and then stilled. She kept his slimy penis-thingy in her grip and looked at his eyes, which were struggling up from her neckline. “That’s awesome!” she said, then realized she’d sounded her age again.
Richard gave her an embarrassed smile. “Actually,” he replied, “that’s exactly what I was about to say. I feel a whole lot better now.”
She tried to sound grownup as she asked the question foremost in her mind. “Daddy, uh—will I—you know, have to—to do this often when I’m a nurse?”

Chapter 4

Wynter gently removed Richard’s pajama bottoms, wiped most of the semen off his penis and scrotum with them, and put them in the washer to soak. She reclined him at a forty-five degree angle and fetched a washcloth, a dispenser of liquid soap, and basin of warm water to finish cleaning him. She wheeled the bedside table into place, put her load on it, and hopped onto the bed beside him. He’d seemed to recognize that she was struggling with something, so he had remained quiet while she sorted her thoughts while soaping his penis. As she began wiping it with the washcloth she found her courage. In a hesitant voice she said, “Daddy, I—I have a question. If you don’t mind.”
He gave her an exaggerated frown. “After all that, you have only one?”
She looked up at the funny frown on his face and giggled, releasing her nervous concern that he might object. “Nah. I have a bunch of ‘em.”
“Ah!” he said. “Then that’s more like it. What do you want to know? And Wynter, you can ask anything you want. I’ll try to answer the best I can.”
She smiled and turned back to the task in hand. “Tell me if I wash too hard,” she said. Then the smile faded. “Daddy, did looking down my top help?”


Richard blinked in surprise. For a moment he wondered how to answer that. Wynter had, of her own volition, just given him a handjob—and one of the most satisfying handjobs he’d ever had—because she was concerned for him, for his comfort and need. She had done so not out of prurient interest, of that he was certain, or because she wanted something, but simply because she cared about him. She deserved no less than the most honest answers he could give her, for this and all other questions.
“Yes,” he said. “Honey, I’m really sorry if that embarrassed you.”
She shook her head. “No. Not really. But how did it help?” She turned to rinse the cloth in the basin before resuming her task.
“It’s kind of hard to explain, honey. Different guys get turned on by different things. I’m what other guys call a ‘tit man.’ I like to look at women’s breasts of all shapes and sizes, and especially on the pretty ones like you.”


“Women’s.” Not “girls’.” She sat a little straighter and smiled. “So, you liked them?”
“Oh, yes. Definitely. Actually, I could see the outlines through your top when you turned on the light. That made me very horny. You know; turned me on. I could barely keep it down. Then I saw one through the sleeve opening and….” His voice trailed off. “Uh, oh.”
She froze in mid-stroke, afraid to move. “What’s wrong? Am I doing it wrong? Does it hurt?”
“No, honey, it definitely doesn’t hurt. It feels really good when you wash me, and that plus the thought of what your breasts looked like are starting to turn me on again.”
A look of surprise crossed her face, but she forced it into what she hoped was a grownup expression. “Then I’m doing okay?”
“Oh, yes! In fact, if you aren’t careful it might get hard again.”
Her brows arched. “Really?” As he nodded, she smiled brightly and looked at his limp noodle to see if she could see any change in its size. Finding none, she resumed wiping it in silence, rinsed the rag again, and asked in as conversational a tone as she could manage, “What does it feel like when you get—turned on?”
He shrugged. “It’s probably the same for me as it is for you.”
Wynter avoided his eyes. “I don’t know what that is,” she said in a quiet voice. “Mother didn’t tell me.”
Her father watched her for a moment, his mouth open in surprise. “You don’t know?” She shook her head. “Honey, have you ever—uh, masturbated?”
Her voice was almost inaudible. “Mother didn’t tell me how to do that, either.”
“Well, most mothers don’t. You haven’t learned to do it on your own?”
Wynter’s eyes were moist as she looked into his and said, “No.” Was this something she was supposed to teach herself, but had been such a child that she hadn’t done so yet? But she didn’t have the first clue as to how to begin. She didn’t have a penis-thingy she could grasp the way she did her father’s.


Richard guessed her thoughts. “Well, a lot of girls don’t,” he said, hoping she didn’t ask how many since he had no clue to the percentages. “I would guess, based on what your mother and other women have said, that it’s probably an empty or itchy feeling up between your legs, especially near the front. A feeling that demands some sort of attention.”
Her hands stilled. “Is that what that weird feeling is?” she asked. “I’ve felt it before, but I didn’t know what it was. Some times it won’t go away for hours.”
Richard was amazed at what she did and did not know. Surely she had friends who had by now discovered the delights of fingering the furrow. But, of course, Wynter spent much time isolated from them. His and Angie’s needs were fulfilled by their jobs and their home. They hadn’t consciously considered what Wynter’s needs might be. Guilt swept over him, and not the guilt from letting his daughter handjob his joint to orgasm. “Well,” he said softly, “now you know what you can do about it.”
She shrugged. “But I don’t know how. I wish your hands were loose so you could show me.”
That did it. The image that rushed into his mind rushed a torrent of blood into his cock.
She felt movement in her hand and dropped her eyes to watch his erection sprout. “That has to be the neatest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said with a trace of awe. She squirmed and added, “Daddy, that feeling is back. Am I getting turned on, too?”
The apology for erecting again died in his throat. “Probably. Well, this time you can do something about it.” He hoped he didn’t sound as eager to watch that happen as he actually was. Then he moaned as her hand encircled his rigid rod and pumped a few cautious strokes.
“Didn’t I get enough out of you the first time?”
Richard explained the difference between sexual excitement and seminal pressure, and how they weren’t related. “So it’s a reaction to an emotional need, not a physical one. Understand?”
“I guess,” Wynter said. She no longer made any attempt to avoid looking at her father’s—her patient’s—throbbing penis-thingy. His erection. She gazed at it openly and without embarrassment as her hand moved to show it from several angles. “But how come I feel it? I guess that’s what it is, since I don’t have any emotional need like you do with Mother gone.”
Richard shook his head. Wynter had always been brilliant, but sometimes she couldn’t see a floodlight shining in her eyes. “Honey, I don’t think you understand. Your mind and body are telling you that you do have an emotional need.”
As her eyes lifted to stare at him, her hand lifted his pole and started jacking it with slow, gentle strokes. “But I’m not, well, having to do without.”
Richard laughed gently. “You said you weren’t masturbating. If you aren’t hiding a boyfriend in your closet and letting him out at night, then you are doing without.”
“DADDY!“ She flushed a brilliant scarlet and looked away.
“‘Daddy?’ I thought I was your patient. Honey, your hormones are doing more to your body than just making your breasts grow and turning you into a woman. Well, no, I guess that those feelings are a part of them turning you into a woman. Anyway, they’re what’s causing the feeling.”
“Oh.” Wynter dropped the subject and began stroking his stiff stick, causing him to abandon the topic as well. The soft moan escaping from his throat made her smile. After several seconds her eyes wandered back to his. A thought struck her. “Would it help if you looked at my, uh—at me again?” She winced when she realized how childish she must have sounded.
Richard discovered he was staring at her top, trying to see through it. He met her eyes. “Honey, not if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“I already said it didn’t,” Wynter reminded him, a smile flickering across her lips. And it didn’t. In fact, the thought was causing the itch between her legs to intensify. She guessed that must be what it was like when he looked at her boobies. Her breasts, she corrected herself, not wanting to sound like a child.
Her tits. That thought caused the odd itch to surge in intensity. She squeezed her thighs together involuntarily and released his rod long enough to strip her top off over her head and flip her hair back.
Richard’s eyes feasted on his lovely daughter’s half-naked body as she twisted to show herself from several angles. She was long in the torso, the way he was, and slender like her mother, with arms that were skinny like a child’s. The interplay of light and shadow made her ribs stand out below the small, wide-spaced hemispheres that looked soft yet firm at the outer edges of her chest. Darker pink, quarter-sized circles drew his eyes to the small, round nipples that stood out as if inviting lips and fingers to caress, to worship them.
Her waist pinched in between her ribcage and her hips. Above the top of her pajama panties, her navel sat at the top of a small mound of—muscle or baby fat? He wished his hands were free to determine the nature of the filling under the smooth, creamy skin. And what lovely skin! Either she used moisturizer all over her body, or the dry mountain air hadn’t begun to affect her the way it had Angie and himself. Her skin glowed with a smooth, translucent softness that made him want to sandpaper his fingertips to make them more sensitive before he stroked them over the surface of her body, her arms, her legs, her face.
“Honey, you are absolutely beautiful,” he said, unable to keep a tone of awe from his voice. “I mean, I knew you were pretty, but a field of columbines growing in front of a waterfall would pale in comparison.”
As he expected, she ducked her head and blushed at the comparison to her two favorite things. While she enjoyed compliments, she never knew how to react to them. Something else to discuss with Angie, he told himself. His list was growing.
Richard wished desperately that his arms, or at least his hands, were free of the casts and that they were large enough to touch her everywhere at once, the way he wished his eyes could focus on every square inch of her at once. Later he would wonder what she looked like under the pajama panties. At the moment, what he could see was more than enough to fuel his desire for a month. She was a superb blend of innocence and eroticism, the innocence of youthful beauty and the eroticism of blossoming sexuality. If I’m to be struck blind in his life, let it be now so that this would be the last sight, locked forever in my mind, he thought.
She reached for his dick and began pumping again. I wonder if somebody else masturbating me would make me go blind, he wondered. She froze when he suddenly laughed. “It’s okay,” he said. “I just thought of something funny, sort of a variation on an old joke.” She gave him an uncertain look. He told her what it was and then had to explain it to her.
She looked confused but relieved. Apparently she had thought he was laughing at her, and he remembered her emotional roller coaster. “Never mind about the joke,” he said. “We’ll discuss it later. You’re doing just fine, honey. It feels every bit as wonderful as you look.”
Wynter blushed again and whispered, “Thank you,” so quietly that he read it on her lips more than he heard it. Realizing she had slumped in girlish embarrassment, she straightened, thrusting her—her tits out for her patient to see. She squeezed her legs together because of that dratted itch as she turned to unblock the view caused by her right arm crossed over her body. The combination caused her thighs to rub that place and send a small, pleasant wave throughout her body, but she forgot about it when she realized she was in danger of bumping the suspended cast of her father’s left arm.
She switched hands. “I’m sorry,” she said after a minute. “I have trouble keeping the beat with my left hand. Do you want me to move to the other side of the bed where I can use the right one?”
The question brought Richard back from teetering on the brink of release. “No, honey, that’s not necessary. I know sex has been called ‘The Symphony of Love,’ but you don’t have to stick to any beat. You can think of it as a syncopated symphony, if that helps.”
“Okay,” she said in a small voice, wondering if her ignorance had made her seem childlike again. Well, one thing was for sure: hunching down every time she made a stupid mistake certainly made her seem so.
Again she straightened and thrust her tits—the word sounded strangely grown up to her and made her itch tingle more—forward for him, flipping back the hair that had crept around her shoulders when she hunched like a child. She watched her father’s eyes roam about her body, always returning to her tits before wandering down another path. Every time they returned to her tits, the tip of his tongue crept out and swept along his lips. That triggered a forgotten thought which triggered a surge in the odd itching sensation. It was something she’d heard her mother say one night when she couldn’t sleep and was about to knock on their bedroom door. “Daddy, would you like to suck my tits?”
“Oh, yes, honey!” he said in a gasp. “Oh yes! Oh, fuck! I’m cumming!“ His penis-thingy swelled and began throbbing in her hand, the way it had when he had shot his semen earlier.
Fuck? Suzie Middleton had told her that word. Suzie didn’t know what it meant, but she said that it was a naughty word that only grownups said to each other, and Wynter had better not use it around them. But Daddy had used it with her, just like she was a grownup. She smiled and swelled with pride just like his penis-thingy had swelled with—with what? She guessed it was the semen that made it swell up, since it went down after he shot it out.
And shoot it out he did! Again she held it to shoot upward, and again it splashed down all hot and wet and thick and sticky over her hand and wrist and his belly and legs. There wasn’t as much as before, but she was still surprised at the amount. Even though it was one of the most exciting things she’d ever seen, she worried that the quantity meant she hadn’t done it right the first time.
Wynter continued to pump her small, slick fist up and down the shrinking tube until he opened his eyes and smiled at her. “Honey, that felt even better than the last time. You can stop now, because it’s starting to get too sensitive.”
Fear crossed her face. “Am I hurting you?”
He laughed weakly. “Not at all. It feels really, really good when you keep rubbing after I cum, but after a while my dick gets too sensitive. I have to tell you when that is, and then you can stop before it hurts.” He looked sleepy, but there was another, happier, look on his face that she hadn’t seen since his accident. Not counting, of course, after the first time he—he came. And he’d called his penis his dick. She wondered if she should start a notebook of all these new terms and what they meant so that she could use them properly.
“Oh, good grief!” he said in an exaggerated, playful voice. “I’ve really made a mess, and you’d just finished cleaning me up. I must be the most difficult patient you’ve ever had.”
“Yep,” she agreed with a bright smile that showed her perfect teeth. “I can truthfully say that except for Dragon, I’ve never had a worse one.”

Chapter 5

Dragon decided it was time for his early morning trip outside. Wynter let him out while she replaced the cold water in the basin with warm water and rinsed the wash cloth which held most of her father’s semen. She put her hair in a ponytail and went back to the kitchen to let Dragon in. He paused at his water bowl, but stopped drinking and tore across the kitchen floor when Wynter disappeared down the hall.
She opened her father’s bedroom curtains. They watched in silence as the heavy snowflakes tumbled down from the gray sky. After a few moments she returned to his bedside. Since it was warm in the room, and since looking at her tits made her father happy—and that other word, horny—she left her top off, thinking she could put it back on if he said anything negative. She could just pretend she had forgotten about it.
She washed and rinsed his—his dick, he’d called it; another word to remember—and cleaned away the other traces of his semen. This time his dick stayed soft, though she noticed he spent much of the time looking at her tits. Perhaps this time she had done her job correctly. But she couldn’t know unless she asked.
She didn’t replace his pajama bottoms because he said she would have to bathe him after breakfast and would just have to remove them again. She put the wash rag in the bowl, toweled him dry, and sat on the edge of the bed, carefully turning to give him a good view of her boobies—no, her tits.
She looked him in the eye, because that’s what grownups would do, though she desperately wanted to look anywhere else. “I have a stupid question.”
His green eyes were looking directly into her blue-green ones, just like she was another grownup, but the smile that spread across his face was part of the loving gaze that a father gives his daughter. She hoped that fathers gave that same look to grownup daughters because it made a warm, tingly feeling spread throughout her, and she never wanted to stop seeing it.
“Honey, there’s no such thing as a stupid question.”
Her face melted into a sorrowful look that made him want to hold her in his arms and comfort her. “Well, this one is ‘cause I don’t know the answer.”
Despite himself, he laughed. “Wynter, if you knew the answer, you wouldn’t have to ask the question. If you asked anyway, then that might qualify as a stupid question.”
She shrugged. “I just—I feel so ignorant about things I should already know.”
He understood. “Really? Do you know how to do an F-seventh augmented fifth chord?”
“I don’t. I don’t know how to make any chords on a piano. I don’t know an F-seventh augmented fifth from a C-major.”
Her face brightened and grew animated. “I can show you. Just as soon as you get the casts off, I can ….”
“Maybe later,” he said, cutting her off gently. “But since I don’t know the difference, does that make me ignorant?”
“Well, no.”
“Of course it does. No, let me finish. Being ignorant of something just means nobody has taught you yet.” He emphasized the last word to be sure she heard it and understood. “Honey, everybody is ignorant of a whole lot of things, but over time they become less ignorant because they learn new stuff. Look how much you’ve learned since you woke up yesterday morning.”
Wynter thought about that, then became angry with herself as she felt her cheeks warming. She sat straighter and thrust her tits forward, hoping they would keep him from seeing that her face was blushing like a child’s. His eyes dipped to look at them, but quickly returned to hers.
“Wynter, it’s not the same thing as being stupid, where people tell you things over and over and over and you still don’t remember them. Smart is trying to learn the answers to your questions; stupid is living in ignorance when you don’t have to. So don’t you ever be afraid to ask somebody a question because you want to learn something. Especially of me. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said in a small voice. “I love you, Daddy. Thanks for helping me.”
“I love you, too, honey. Helping each other is what family and love and all that mushy stuff is about. Now: what’s the question? Let’s get it answered so we can get on to breakfast!” He gave her a wink and a grin.
Her head dipped slightly and a small smile spread across her sweet lips, causing the corners of her eyes to crinkle. The smile faded. “Why did you get, uh—horny?—erected that second time? Is it because I didn’t do a good enough job the first time, ‘n’ all the semen I missed made it stiff again?”
“We’re going to bypass college and go straight to graduate school, eh?”
The warm feeling tingled through her whole body again. Whenever her father said that, it was because she had surprised him with a grownup question, not something a child might ask. It really wasn’t a stupid question after all!
He made a face. “If you’ll scratch the side of my nose where it itches, I guess I’ll have to go on a diet long enough to answer all your questions. Uh, you do have more than one question, don’t you?”


Breakfast was late because her father had spent over an hour talking with her and answering all of her questions. He didn’t try to hurry her, and he didn’t duck away from any answers. She couldn’t believe how wrong some of her assumptions had been, but he told her that her assumptions made perfect sense based on the knowledge she had at the time. Some people, he’d said, could watch the sun rise in the east all their lives and still assume that it might rise in the west tomorrow, ignoring what they knew.
She thought of more questions while she cooked breakfast. He answered those while they ate. She liked the way he talked to her as if she were a grownup, but still managed to tease her just enough to show that he loved her and was trying to make her comfortable. It was like the way he teased Mother. She thought about that while she loaded the dishwasher and then brushed his teeth and shaved him. When she was a nurse and had to train students, or when she was a mother and wanted to train her children, she wanted to talk to them just the way her father was talking to her so that they would feel comfortable and would want to learn from her.
Then it was time to fetch the bedpan. After all that had happened since she became his nurse, that was less difficult than either anticipated. She put the empty bedpan back in its place, gave him more coffee, and then kissed him before excusing herself to take her shower before his sponge bath.
The most difficult part of sponge-bathing him was removing and replacing his armless, one-legged pajamas because of the suspended casts. She took much longer than Nurse Carter did, but he said that she also caused him much less discomfort. After that praise, her feet didn’t touch the floor for hours. Wynter also took extra precautions to insure that she didn’t wet the plaster casts and was gentle where the stitches had been removed the day he came home. By the time she was finished it was almost noon.
She was buttoning his pajama tops when her mother called from Geneva. She barely had time to tell her mother that she was now the nurse when the cell phone rang. She held the handset to Richard’s ear with one hand and answered the cell phone with the other. It was Nurse Carter.
“I was worried,” Nurse Carter explained. “I hadn’t heard from you, and then when I tried calling on the house phone I got a busy signal.”
“Mother called. Daddy’s talking to her now. We’re doing great so far. He says I’ve been a good nurse. He says I’m a natural!”
She thought she heard Nurse Carter laugh softly. “Well, I’ve been telling you that, too, haven’t I? And that you’d also be a natural at being a doctor, too, if you wanted to go to medical school?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she admitted, keeping her eyes on the handset she was holding to her father’s ear. “But everything’s okay here. We had breakfast, ‘n’ I gave Daddy his pills after I checked all his vital signs, just the way you showed me how to do them, ‘n’ I wrote everything on the forms. Everything was normal. I just finished his sponge bath. Oh, he’s taking ibu…—i-bu-pro-fen instead of his pain pills because he wants to save those in case he needs them ‘n’ you can’t get back here yet.” She was gushing. She told herself to slow down and speak professionally.
“Very good,” Nurse Carter said. “Sheriff White said they should have the road clear late tomorrow afternoon, but I may have to park by the mailbox and walk the rest of the way. Did you have any problems with the bedpan or the urinal, since he’s your father?”
Wynter liked the crisp, professional tone that Nurse Carter used. She sounded just like one grownup nurse talking to another. “No, ma’am. But he’s not my father, he’s my patient.”
Again she thought she heard a soft laugh, but the cell phone always had some static noise here, and Wynter couldn’t be sure. “That’s exactly the way to handle it,” she said. “You really are a natural.”
“Actually, it was his idea,” she confessed.
“Only because he thought of it first. I know you. You’d have realized it yourself if you’d had some time to think about it. Can you interrupt to ask if he needs anything from me?”
He didn’t. “That’s nurse business,” he explained. “You have to handle that. I’m just the patient, after all, and you are my professional.”
Wynter’s heart suddenly felt as if it were too big for her chest as the warm tingly feeling spread throughout her body again. “I guess that’s all now. No, wait. When you talk to Dr. Taylor, ask him what’s the soonest we can get Daddy’s fingers out of the casts.”
She had been afraid that Nurse Carter would ask why, and she didn’t know what she would say in reply, but there was no question. Nurse Carter must have assumed that there was a good reason, and that was enough for her.


Ellen Carter stared at the phone on her desk, leaned back in her chair, and silently sipped her honeyed tea. Nervous tension slowly seeped away. She was certain that she’d have heard it in Wynter’s voice, even over the noisy connection, if there had been any problems. The girl really was “a natural,” but she was also a perfectionist, and her voice revealed when things weren’t going perfectly. Professions with critical personnel shortages, like nursing, needed people who could do the job quickly and accurately enough for the current situation. Perfectionists, even the naturals, burned out rapidly.
Ellen worried about Jack’s “problem.” She’d had to remove the catheter because he was having frequent erections, and it was causing him additional pain, along with the pain from the semen buildup that stretched the damaged and weakened vas deferens. That would be why he wanted his fingers free.
She knew that she was within a day or so of having to find some solution for the problem, even if it meant masturbating him herself. Unfortunately, that was the only solution she could think of. Not that she’d have minded if he wasn’t married—he was an attractive man, after all, with a wonderful sense of humor and a way of putting everybody at ease even before he said a word. But she couldn’t afford to become involved with another married man the way she had in Pennsylvania. She liked where she was and the people around her.
She didn’t want to be forced into moving again.


“We’ll talk about it when you get back,” her father was saying as she turned the cell phone off. Her eyes jumped back and forth between the phone she was holding to her father’s ear and the one she was trying to place in the charger on the night stand. “But start thinking about where.” After a moment of listening, he said, “I love you and miss you, too. Here’s Wynter.”
Her mother sounded pleased with the job she had done as the new nurse, and the warm tingly feeling spread again. Wynter gave her some of the highlights of her nursing activities, omitting any reference to certain new skills she had learned, updated Dragon’s situation, reported that she had finally memorized that piano sonata, and told her what Nurse Carter had said about the roads. She noticed that it sounded more like a conversation between grownups than their usual mother-daughter exchange.
“Well, darling, I’m counting on you to keep Daddy safe and comfortable for me while you’re in charge,” her mother said. “If I’m lucky, I might get to come home a day or two early, and I hope so, because I really miss both of you. I found a perfect present for you yesterday, and I’ll bring it, too. The silly meeting’s running after dark again, and it’s about to resume. I have to go. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Daddy and Dragon and I miss you. Bye.” She hung up the phone, determined that this time the tear wouldn’t trickle down her right cheek the way it had the last two times she’d spoken to her mother.
Richard recognized the struggle within her. “Wynter,” he said to distract her, “let’s not bother with the pajama bottoms. They’re too difficult to put on because of the cast, and the covers keep me warm enough anyway.”
She glanced to the sheet that was pulled up to his waist, happy for the distraction. “Are you sure?”
“I didn’t want them in the first place. They were your mother’s idea, and, stupid me, I never thought to tell Ellen that I’d be happier in a hospital gown after your mother left. Besides, it’s plenty warm in here. You seem to be comfortable enough without a top.”
He watched her eyes drop and widen. After her shower, she had donned frilly yellow pajama panties, but had left the top in the drawer. She’d been so busy that she actually had forgotten she was nude from the waist up. He was trying to forget that himself, which wasn’t easy with her standing just a foot from his shoulder and him reclined at an angle that put her sweet, firm breasts at his eye level. Those beautiful, fresh young orbs, pushing their way out from her juvenile chest like new spring growth, were a mixture of child and adult that he found maddeningly enticing. And that very thought was about to awaken the Beast.
“Oh. Uh, do you want me to go put my top back on?” she asked in a hesitant voice.
No way in hell! he wanted to shout. Instead he kept his voice steady and said, “It’s up to you. If you’re more comfortable with it on, I understand.”
“Not really,” she said, with a casual air that convinced him she meant it. “You said you were a ‘tit man.’ Well, there aren’t any other tits around for you to look at. Or do you only like to look at tits when you’re, uh, horny? Is that the right word?”
“That’s the word, though when you’re in polite society instead of here alone with me, the word is ‘excited’ or ‘aroused.’”
Wynter nodded. She felt no embarrassment or unintended reprimand at his words. He had covered that aspect of the names and nicknames of sexual objects and activities in their talk earlier that morning. He wasn’t correcting her; he was only “reinforcing the lesson,” the way he had said all of her teachers would do in nursing school.
“And as for when I enjoy looking at titties, honey, I like looking at them anytime, even when I’m not horny or excited or aroused.” The way he emphasized those last words and his facial expressions when he spoke them caused her to laugh. In a softer voice he added, “Sometimes just looking at them can make me horny when I’m not.”
Wynter’s eyes shifted to his crotch, half expecting to see the sheet move. That odd, itchy sensation down there suddenly returned. When she looked back to his face, his eyes were on her chest and the tip of his tongue was disappearing back into his mouth.
She remembered. “Daddy, when I was—uh, jacking you off?—that last time, you said you’d like to suck on them, but then you—uh, came? Do you still want to?”
Richard struggled with both the physical Beast that he could feel beginning to swell and with the emotional Beast that desired his lovely pre-teen daughter. He knew that the answer had to be a resounding “No!” It’s the only possible, permissible answer. It isn’t morally right. She’s my daughter. She’s only eleven years old. She’s innocent. She has the most exciting body I have ever seen in my life. No! Bad argument!_ She’s illegal jailbait that could land my ass in a sling for years. She’s…_.
“More than anything else in this world,” he heard himself saying, even though he wasn’t finished arguing with himself. His argument might have been more successful if he had conducted it while looking at her face instead of her delicious young pink sweater-fruits. The battle between reason and desire, he suddenly realized, was unconventional warfare, and desire always fights dirty.
Wynter stroked his face with her left hand and smiled. “I guess you know you’ll have to talk me through it,” she said, liking the way she managed to avoid sounding childish.
“Huh uh!” he grunted. “Remember what I said earlier. As long as it doesn’t hurt, there’s no ‘wrong’ way. Honey, part of the fun of sex is learning about not only your partner but yourself, too. You experiment together, rather than following a script, to discover what pleases both people the most.”
Wynter had remembered that and was pleased with herself for having done so. “Oh, I knew that part,” she said in her most grownup tone. “I meant you’d have to talk me through it because of your casts, ‘n’ the ropes ‘n’ things.”
“Oh. Well, let’s see here….” Within two minutes they had the bed adjusted to an angle that placed his head where Wynter could comfortably lean forward, brace her hands on the other edge of the mattress, and have her small, pink nipples hover just above his face. The look on his face as he looked at the soft little mound in front of his nose made her heart swell with joy because she knew she was making her father—her patient—no, this was for her father—happy.
It also made the odd, itchy sensation explode down there.
The itch grew even more worse when she saw the sheet stir with movement because his dick was hardening. She wished she could help him with that immediately, but the suspended arm casts were in the way. She would have to wait until after he was through sucking her tits.
Sucking her tits. She liked the grownup sound of that, but she wondered what it would feel like for her. Her nipples were sensitive, though not as sensitive as when she was about to have her “friend visit.” No! That wasn’t what grownups called it. Like her father had said, when she was about to have her period.
She hoped that her father’s sucking on her tits wouldn’t be painful or even uncomfortable, but if it made him happy, she’d suffer through it as long as she could.
His voice interrupted her thoughts. “Honey, you can still change your mind if you want to.”
She didn’t want to, and the sound of his voice said he didn’t want her to, either. She twisted slightly at the waist, rubbing the tiny knob of her left nipple across the tip of his nose before touching it to his lips. She had just invented a new version of her special kiss for him! He let out a moan that she now recognized as desire. Horniness. The itch down there became harder to ignore, and she squeezed her sleek, slender thighs together trying to try strangle it.


Richard was surprised by the coolness of the hard, pink nipple that brushed across his nose. Desire flooded through him in a torrent that almost washed away his guilt over what he was about to do. He was glad that Wynter still wanted him to do this because he wasn’t sure she could have stopped him if she had changed her mind.
Well, that was stupid, he realized. All she had to do to stop him was stand up straight. But she didn’t. And if he guessed correctly, she was as horny as he was, though she clearly didn’t know what to do about it without his help. That thought triggered an onslaught of forbidden ideas that made him gasp and made his cock hard as iron as it pulled upright, tenting the sheet, and then continued on until it was aimed at his head. Despite himself, he wondered how many of those ideas he would be able to try with his daughter before Angie returned.
He also wondered how he would explain them to Angie. She had correctly assumed from one of his answers that his pain had been relieved by a handjob. She had incorrectly assumed that Ellen had provided the relief, which Ellen would have done if Richard had asked her, and he was on the verge of asking for that very favor. It was why he had wanted Ellen as his nurse: he had suspected that Murphy’s Law might separate him from Angie for a few days. Angie didn’t mind his using Ellen for relief because she understood the sharp pain that stabbed through his groin if the built-up semen wasn’t released. She also knew that release through a wet dream was rarely effective for more than a few hours. She would understand that a handjob from Ellen was simply a medical procedure.
However, Angie was certain to be pissed that he’d used his own daughter. She’d get over it when she understood that Ellen was trapped in town, that he was in discomfort and Wynter knew it, and that it was Wynter’s idea. Angie knew how determined Wynter would be once she realized that her father was in discomfort, if not pain, and that she might be able to help him somehow.
Angie would also be pissed that he hadn’t done more to discourage their daughter, but she’d eventually calm down enough to understand there was little he could do about it. She would….
The tiny hard berry of his daughter’s nipple pressed against his lips, and they automatically parted to enfold it. The little pink cone and some of the surrounding velvety white pad eased into his mouth as he applied gentle suction with his tongue, stroking it from her left to right because she was leaning over him from the side.
His nose drank in the faint, heady aroma of her freshly-scrubbed skin beneath the subtle bouquet of perfumed soap. He could imagine no sweeter aroma—except, perhaps, that of her virginal young cunt. He wondered if he would find a way to test his theory. As if from a vast distance he heard the gasp of her sudden intake of breath that pushed her sweet, sweet young breast gently downward toward the suction.
He’d have traded ownership of all the world for a mouth atop his head to suck the breast pressed there. He’d have traded twice that much to have his hands free. He wanted to hold his daughter, to squeeze her, to caress every part of her slender, nubile body at once. He wanted to run his fingers gently over every inch of her. He wanted to run his tongue over every inch of her.
God help him, he wanted, to the very core of his being, to fuck her.
His hips began an autonomous primeval thrusting, rubbing the underside of his steely cock against the roughness of the sheet. If he hadn’t already cum twice that morning, it would have been enough to get him off. For a moment he was almost angry, but then he was grateful. He didn’t want the sheet to get him off, he wanted his daughter’s gentle young hand to relieve him. Again.


Wynter was startled when her father’s mouth swept around her nipple, taking it and part of her underlying tit into his mouth. Immediately afterward the wet roughness of his tongue pushed against her tender flesh and pulled across, suctioning a wonderful hollow feeling that ran from the tip of her breast—her tit—through her supple body to—_there_, where the itch was. The feeling both relieved the itch and made it grow stronger. That effect there made her gasp, and she gently leaned into him.
As her father alternated between sucking and licking, the hollow feeling throbbed. This, she knew, was being horny, and now she really understood why it was so necessary for her to give her father the relief he needed. But what about her own need?
Later, she told herself, after I take care of Daddy. The patient’s needs come first. I’ll ask him after that.
She closed her eyes and bathed in the fascinating new sensation her father was giving her through her nipple. It flowed through her body, warm and exciting, like the feeling she got when she was treated like a grownup, but even better. Eventually she opened her eyes, and realized she was moaning softly. When had she started that? It was what her father did when she jacked him off. She really was horny! That’s what that feeling was down there.
Movement to her left. She looked. Her father’s hard dick was outlined against the sheet, and he was slowly moving it up and down the sheet using his hips. She wondered if that’s how fucking was done.
Wait a minute. She was also thrusting her hips. They were slowly moving, just as her father’s were, and she was squeezing her thighs together as she pulled back. It felt really good down there, near the front, where her—her—what was that “c”-word?—was located.
Her father was also moaning—whimpering, really. It was in time with the rhythm of his rubbing against the sheet rather than sucking and kissing and licking her breast.
“Wha?” he asked without releasing her from his mouth.
“Would you like me to jack you off now?”
A low moan escaped from her throat as he again sucked and licked his mouthful before grunting a yes. As she lifted, he said, “But first I want to kiss and suck the other one, too, for just a second.”
As she moved her right breast into place he said, “Wynter, you have the sweetest titties I’ve ever seen. They are every bit as wonderful as the rest of you. Oh, honey, I love you so very much.”
“I love you, too,” she said as she eased the nipple down to his mouth. She meant it with all her heart.
Five minutes later she watched less than a tablespoon of cum dribble down his upright cock and over her hand. “Better?” she asked when he opened his eyes.
“You bet!” His voice was exhausted but happy. “How are you doing?”
She stopped stroking and let her father’s dick grow soft in her hand. It wasn’t as much fun as feeling it grow hard, but still it felt nice, too. “I think maybe I’m horny.”
“Well,” he said with a yawn, “if you aren’t, you did a superb job of acting like you were.”
“I did?”
His head fell over to his shoulder, as if he hadn’t the strength to keep it upright on the pillow, and he smiled at her with sleepy eyes. “Yep. It was fun watching you masturbate—what little I could see with your chest in my face. Not that I’m complaining about the view, you understand.”
A look of surprise exploded across her face. “Masturbate? Me? How?” She was so surprised that the questions blurted out before she could think of a grownup way to ask them.
He looked as if he were trying not to laugh, but he did, though it came out as a strangled chuckle. A flush spread against her will. Drat! It was the first time she’d blushed in over an hour.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t laughing at your question. It was the look on your face, and I shouldn’t have laughed at that, either. It’s something all parents do at different times, and you’ll do the same with your kids someday. You’ll feel bad about it afterward, just like I do now, but you’ll do it. If it makes you feel better, I’ll tell you a secret: you’ll do it because you love them so much that you can’t control it. No, that doesn’t make sense, but it’s true. I didn’t believe Grandpa King any more than you believe me right now. You won’t understand until it happens.”
“Daddy,” she said, her eyes wide with horror, “I didn’t say….”
“No, you didn’t say it, honey, but you thought it. You forget that I used to be a kid, too. I’m not so old and senile that I’ve forgotten those days, you know. Now: let’s answer that question and then you can clean me up.
“I think it’s called ‘thigh masturbation,’ where the woman squeezes her legs tight against her clitoris…”
That was the word!
“…and releases, over and over. Supposedly some women can get off while seated in a crowded room and nobody will notice. Unless she starts screaming with joy, of course.”
Wynter laughed, her eyes sparkling with both humor and understanding. And with joy of a different sort: her father was once again talking to her like she was a grownup.
His eyes flicked to her hand still wrapped around his soft dick and the wet love goo, as he had once called it in their talk, covering both. “If you’ll clean us both up, then I’ll talk you through getting yourself off with your hands. It’s much easier that way.”
“Okay.” Drat! She had whispered again, like a kid. She gave him a big smile with lots of even, white teeth to let him know how she really felt. He smiled back at her, and she rose from her seat on the edge of the bed. She held her cum-slimed hand out for him to see. “There wasn’t much at all this time,” she said.
“Well,” he said, trying to look apologetic and making her giggle, “that’s the third time in just one morning. I haven’t done that in—oh, I guess since before you were born. But I’ll certainly make more, and you’ll have to help with that, too.”
“Good!” she said. That had sounded like an excited child, but she didn’t care. She was playing, just like he was. She bent to kiss him, first on his nose and then on his lips, holding her ponytail in her right hand while her left hand hovered aside, carefully not smearing his semen everywhere.
She thought she felt his tongue gently caress her lips just before she straightened and turned for the bathroom. She wasn’t certain, but it sure did leave a tingly, horny feeling there. In her “clitoris.” Then she remembered. Suzie Middleton, who had also called it a “clitty,” had told her about “French kissing.” As usual, Suzie knew the term but not the reason for its name. Maybe it was how people in France kissed. It didn’t sound very good, but apparently grownups really liked it and did it a lot, so she supposed she’d have to learn how to do it.
She was about to stick her hand under the running water when she noticed that the aroma of his semen—his “cum”—was making her horny clitty throb more. She brought her hand to her nose and sniffed. It was odd, but not unpleasant. She sniffed twice more before realizing she was doing thigh masturbation again, just like she’d been doing when Daddy was sucking her titties. Well, she was about to learn a much better way than thigh masturbation!
She washed her hand and filled the rinse bowl with warm water, putting it, the liquid soap, and a wash cloth on the tray.
Lost in thought, she almost tripped over Dragon as she left the bathroom.

Chapter 6

Exhausted by his third cum of the morning, her father had dozed off while waiting for Wynter to return with the wash cloth and warm water. She put the tray on the rollaway table and stood beside the bed, watching him for almost a minute.
He lay there at a forty-five degree angle with his green eyes closed and his head tilted down toward his left shoulder. His arms and right leg in their suspended casts looked terribly uncomfortable, and she supposed they were, but he never complained about them to her. The hem of his pajama top was pushed halfway to his rib cage, and his exposed, semen-coated dick hung over the left side of his scrotum—his nuts, or his balls, he had called them—the way his head drooped to his shoulder. His left foot and ankle were under the rumpled pile of the sheet.
His dark hair was in desperate need of a trim and shampooing, but he was still the handsomest man in the whole world to her. With as much gentleness as she could manage, she washed away the cum, dried him, and pulled the sheet into place. At the last second she leaned forward, holding her long blonde ponytail to keep it from tickling him, and placed a gentle kiss on his limp dick. Her father never moved, but she almost jumped out of her skin when the horny feeling exploded there between her legs as her lips touched his limp flesh.
The horny itch was more intense than ever while she rinsed out the wash rag and cleaned the washbowl in the bathroom sink. She wondered if “thigh masturbation” would help, and realized she was already doing it. It was helping—some.
She hung the wash cloth to dry, pushed the bowl to the back of the vanity top, and then braced both hands on the front of the sink. She began thrusting her hips and squeezing her slender legs together, really hard. It still helped some, but she knew she could do it easier with her hands. Her father had said so.
She wished he hadn’t fallen asleep before he could tell her how.
No! She immediately took that wish back. That wasn’t fair to him. He was, after all, badly hurt, and she was being selfish. She should have wished instead that he hadn’t had the accident in the first place.
Okay, she would just have to teach herself. Or try to teach herself until he woke up. He had said that some girls taught themselves, so maybe she could, too.
Where? Her room? He might wake up and need her, and it was her responsibility to be there with him if he needed her. Okay, then: his room. But what if she made too much noise and disturbed him while he was getting his rest? He really did need to rest so his body could heal. Nurse Carter had explained that part of healing to her. And he had said something about “screaming with joy.” Would she do that and wake him up? Maybe she should just wait.
But the—the horny feeling was so strong!
Okay, she decided as she entered his recovery room, I’ll just experiment. If I can’t be quiet, then I’ll stop until he wakes up.
Now where? Her sleeping bag or the chair? Her sleeping bag, she decided, would be best because she didn’t know what would happen when she did it. She might pass out or fall over or something strange. She didn’t know if that was possible, but a nurse was supposed to be prepared for anything.
She slid off her frilly yellow pajama panties and carefully spread them in the seat of the chair. Her white cotton panties joined them, and then she lay down on top of her sleeping bag, spreading her legs so that her knees were at the sides of the bag. Dragon watched briefly from where he had sprawled at his door guard station, then lowered his head.
Wynter felt strange lying there naked on the floor. It would have felt strange to her even if her sleeping father and Dragon weren’t in the room with her. No, that was being childish, she decided. After all, she had already been half-naked in the room with her father awake, and she’d seen—she’d handled—his sex stuff. And she’d been eager to let him teach her how to masturbate with her hands. What did she think she was going to do—sit in her room and listen to him over the intercom?
She arranged her pillow and a fold of the sleeping bag to raise her head. She looked down the long, white distance between her titties and across the slight rise of her tummy to the small fluff of blonde hair on the bulge right there at the beginning of her vaginal region. Her split. What else was it Suzie had called it? She had forgotten to ask her father what adults called it, but she was too horny to care now. She idly wondered if her father would like looking at her down there, too, and felt the horny sensation grow stronger.
She ran the fingertips of both hands through the fine hair that looked like corn silk where it grew just above the point of her split and down the fat little pads on either side of it. That felt nice and made the horny feeling stronger, but it didn’t give the relief that thigh masturbation had.
Her fingertips pressed down on the fat little pads and slid downward. That felt better, and it helped a little more. She slid her fingers back to the beginning and then pushed them toward each other, squeezing her clitoris—her clitty—between them. Her clitty was hard. Her father had said it was like a tiny version of his dick, and it sort of felt like it. Her fingertips met and squeezed her hard little clitty between them.
She gasped at the wave of pleasure that radiated outward from it like heat from a candle. It was like the warm feeling when she was praised for acting like a grownup, but lots more intense.
She pulled her fingers back and then pushed them together again. And again. And again. She began to understand why her father liked having her stroke his dick so much—it felt so good that she didn’t have words to describe the sensation. She was making the horny feeling grow stronger, yet she was also relieving it at the same time. That seemed odd, but she could worry about the reason for that later. Or she could ask her father. He would know, and he wouldn’t think it was a dumb question, either.
That noise—she was making a squishing noise when she squeezed and a smacking noise when her fingers pulled back. She hadn’t urinated—_peed_, the grownups would say. Then she remembered: had her period started early? Drat!
She slid a fingertip into her split and down to her vaginal opening. Cunny was what Suzie had called it, and no, Suzie didn’t know why it was called that, either. As her fingertip slid along her clitty the wonderful feeling seemed to grow ten times better. Her eyes made big circles and she gasped, but she had to check her cunny. She didn’t want to get blood all over her sleeping bag if her period had started, and as much liquid as she found between the two flaps inside her split and at the entrance of her cunny, she just knew that this was her strongest period yet.
She steeled herself before removing her finger, reminding herself that nurses couldn’t be squirmy about the sight of blood, and then lifted it to where she could see…
…that it was covered in a clear liquid, not blood, that felt something like her father’s cum, but slicker. It must be her “natural lubrication” that he had mentioned when she asked him about the mechanics of sex, sort of like the natural lubrication that oozed out of his dick after he got hard but before he came. She jumped up and rushed to the bathroom for a towel to place under her butt to keep from staining the sleeping bag. Then her fingers moved back to her split.
She slid one finger between the two flaps and noticed that they seemed not just thicker but also longer, too. Normally they were even with her split, but now they seemed to stick out a little bit past the edge of it. She slid the finger along her clitty again. This time the wave of pleasure was like heat from a fireplace.
After a little experimentation she discovered the most comfortable way to rub her clitty that gave her the most pleasure. Strange: it wasn’t the same as the way she rubbed her father’s dick. But he had said there were different ways to do it. After a while it became uncomfortable, but she could dip her finger in the slippery wet pool of natural lubrication and then go back to rubbing. Strange how the horny feeling got better, yet got stronger and more demanding at the same time. Strange, but fun because it felt really good!
She began to understand her father’s reactions as she jacked him off. She must be experiencing the same feelings. But what made him cum, and how did that feel when he did it?
Without conscious thought on her part, her fingertip dipped for more lubrication and resumed rubbing along the side of the tiny hard stick of her clitty. It felt really intense when she rubbed the tip of it, but she could take only a few seconds of that before it became uncomfortable, even with lubrication. But along the side and bottom like this—that must be what her father felt when she rubbed the sides and bottom of his dick.
The feeling got stronger whenever she thought of her father’s dick. Her mind replayed the times she had jerked him off, and her whole cunny felt like a giant spring was being tightened inside it. She remembered the feel of his dick in her hand, the sight of the cum shooting upward, it’s hot wetness as it splashed down around and over her hand, how slick his dick was when she began sliding her hand along his shaft instead of working the loose skin up and down it. The spring grew tighter and her clitty seemed to swell.
She thought of the kiss she placed on the dick of her sleeping father.
The overwound spring exploded in a thousand pieces, each one surfing through her body on a wave of super-wonderful pleasure that she never dreamed even existed, let alone could be felt by anyone, especially by young Wynter King. She felt her cunny spasm like a charley horse in her leg, except that in her cunny it felt good! Her clitty was the center of the universe, and wave after wave after wave of pure, absolute, wonderful pleasure was pulsing out from it, and she never ever wanted it to stop.


Richard awoke, though his eyes remained closed against the light. The twist in his neck was becoming painful. He twisted his head to the right and stretched it to relieve the kink that was developing. He should have Wynter lower the head of the bed so he could sleep comfortably, but she wasn’t in the room. If she had been, she’d have jumped to his side when he moved. Perhaps she was preparing lunch. His stomach said it was time….
Soft, faint whimpers reached through his drowsiness and slapped his mental face into full consciousness. There was no mistaking what they were. His eyes opened. The noon sun was almost poking through the clouds despite the heavy, wet flakes that were still cascading from the clouds. He turned his head back to the left and raised his head as much as he could.
Because of the bed and his left arm cast, he could see just Wynter’s head, shoulders, and the very upper part of her chest where she lay on her sleeping bag. The swell of her growing breasts was hidden by the arm cast, and there was no way he could move enough to see around it. Damn. Her sweet sweater-meat excited him more than any other pair of knockers he had ever seen, large or small. He wasn’t certain whether that was because of the forbidden aspect of his family relationship to her, the forbidden aspect of her pre-teen age, or just because they were so goddamned cute. All of the above, perhaps.
Her eyes were squeezed shut and her lips were drawn back in a grimace. Her right shoulder was moving, responding to the movement of her hand which he knew was buried in her young furrow—he could hear the liquid, slurping sounds of her fingers moving in her wet flesh. She was panting like Dragon on a warm day, with an occasional moan or grunt slipping softly from her throat like an escaped prisoner seeking freedom.
Richard suffered from mixed emotions. He had anticipated having her sitting in the chair beside him where he could watch her fingers discover the pleasures to be found in the honey-drenched valley at the bottom of her delicious naked body, where he could watch the expressions on her beautiful young face as she felt each new thrill that her fingers could coax from the slippery wet toys she had owned for eleven years but had never played with.
He was also happy that she had discovered the joys of masturbation on her own. Children should make that discovery themselves. He’d been half her age when he discovered that he could have more fun with the Beast than with the entire contents of his toy chest. If she weren’t so damned isolated during parts of the year, then perhaps she’d have heard about the act from some little friends who had already discovered that a finger in the right spot beat a Barbie doll hands down.
He again was shamed by his guilt over the disadvantages Wynter had experienced because he and Angie had wanted to indulge themselves with this isolated house. But that would be corrected soon enough. He’d told Angie that they would be moving when he was able to resume a normal life and to think about where she wanted to move. She hadn’t understood why, and she didn’t have time to stay on the phone to talk, but she knew that he was serious; she knew he had already decided for Wynter’s sake, and that nothing she could say would change his mind. Not that she would try to change it once she understood.
His attention was jerked back to the present by the strained groan coming from below the foot of the bed. His daughter’s dark red face was now turned toward him. Her blonde eyebrows had been pulled together by the grimace distorting her fragile beauty. In the quiet of the room he could just hear the squishy sounds that indicated how rapidly her fingers were now moving in her juicy young twat. A soft, “Ah!” was repeated and then stretched into a long “Eeee!” sound as her head thrashed back to her left.
And then she came.
If his hands had been free, Richard would have been trying to beat the Beast back to life, but it was as dead as last Tuesday’s road kill. But then he’d have been distracted from the spectacle barely visible to him.
He thought words were mixed in with the soft grunts, groans, and gasps that his young daughter voiced as her first ever orgasm rippled throughout her, but they weren’t clear enough for him to be certain.
She slowly wound down, and her “aaah”s of pleasure devolved into happy giggles that made him ache to hold her while she was still a child and told him that her childhood would end far too soon to suit him.
Her shoulders showed him the progress as tension left her body. Soon the vowel sounds ceased, but she continued to pant for air. Her head lolled back to her right, but her eyes remained closed for several more seconds.
Dragon had arisen when she started whimpering. He stood by her head and sniffed. Deciding she was apparently okay, he lay down by the top of her sleeping bag, just in case he were needed for an emergency. He put his chin on his forepaws and watched her.
When Wynter’s eyes opened, they were looking directly into Richard’s. They went wide and she gasped.
He had anticipated it. “I see we left the classroom and went to the lab exercise,” he said with a huge, heartfelt smile. “We did good!”
The moment’s hesitation on her glowing face vanished in a smile all white toothed and coral lipped and beautiful. “The classroom was closed,” she explained, pleased with how grownup she sounded, “but I didn’t want to get farther behind on my lessons.”
“I liked that last chord. Was that an F-seventh augmented fifth?”
To his surprise she didn’t laugh. Instead, her face jumped to the panicky expression she wore when she decided she had made a mistake. Now what have I said?
She bolted upright and scooted back so that he could see her face. He told himself to concentrate on that and ignore those heavenly young titty mounds for a moment or two. “Oh, Daddy, I didn’t mean to make noise and wake you up!”
“But you didn’t, honey. A neck spasm woke me up, otherwise I’d have slept right through it.” Well, that might not be exactly truthful because her orgasm itself was a little loud, but perhaps he might have slept through that, too. He was exhausted, after all. But her face returned to normal, then to mother hen’s look of concern.
“You have a neck cramp? Do you want me to rub it?” She rose quickly to her feet.
His eyes locked on the small blonde thatch. The hair next to her slit gleamed wetly. Peripheral vision noticed that her head dipped as she froze in place and looked down.
“Oh.” Her head came back up, but his eyes wouldn’t—couldn’t—rise to meet hers. The Beast stirred, and she smiled. “Do you like looking at me like this, too?” she asked in true innocence.
Richard’s mind raced to find the right thing to say, but his mouth opened and blurted, “That has to be the cutest little pussy that was ever created. It never occurred to stupid me that you were growing hair on it.”
Wynter felt the warm glow spread through her. ”Pussy.” Another word for her to remember. “I’m glad you like it,” she said with a shy smile, forcing her head to stay up so that she could look him in the eye like a grownup. His eyes however were still locked on her split. Her pussy. “But Daddy, what about your neck?”
“Huh? Oh. It’s okay now.”
She wanted to get closer to him, but then he wouldn’t be able to see her pussy, and he really seemed to be enjoying looking at it, the way he liked looking at her tits. Her mind raced for a solution. “Daddy, do you want me to sit on the edge of the bed so you can see my pussy better?”
“Yes,” he whispered. She was surprised because her father suddenly sounded like a kid, and looked like one, too, the way he stared with wide eyes.
She perched on the edge of the bed with her left foot on the mattress, then flopped the leg over his left leg, but not bumping the right one in the cast. She had just enough room to hook her heel onto the edge of the mattress and spread her legs for him to see her pussy. When she did so, the horny ache in her clitty returned to life.
“Guess what?” she said in an excited voice. “I think I came!”
Her father’s eyes roamed over her pussy. It was all wet with her natural lubrication smeared over the half-inch long, fine blonde hair around her split, and she wanted to go wash and dry it for him, but he seemed to enjoy looking at it anyway. “Honey, I know you did.”
“Really?” Her wide-eyed smile faded into a look of satisfaction. “It was_ awesome_! Thank you for telling me that I could do that. I never knew it would feel so—so—awesome!”
“It was my pleasure. Yours, too, I see,” he added in an exaggerated voice. They laughed together, and then he spoke quietly, as if embarrassed. “Honey, next time you need to get off, maybe—maybe you could sit where I could watch?” If he had tried to hide the hopeful tone in his voice, he had failed miserably.
“Sure,” she said. “I just wish your hands were free so that you could do me the way I do you. If—if you’d like to, I mean.”
She watched his eyes change to the way they looked when he was trying to decide something hard. He was quiet for many long seconds, not moving except for his eyes. She guessed that whatever it was, it must be something very important, so she remained seated there with her legs spread and the itchy horny feeling growing stronger. She was thinking about rubbing her clitty with her fingers when he finally spoke.
“Wynter,” he finally said in a quiet voice, “have you ever heard of oral sex?”

Part Two: Daddy’s Little Student

Chapter 1

Wynter stood at the kitchen stove wearing fuzzy house shoes, a green gingham apron, and a frown. Her left hand grasped the long blonde ponytail hanging over her shoulder, and her right held a large cooking spoon. She had left her pajama top off after her shower because she’d discovered her father liked looking at her boobies, or her tits, as grownups called them. She’d removed the bottoms to teach herself how to masturbate. Her father was going to talk her through it, but he had fallen asleep. He woke up with a neck cramp just before she came—she thought that was a funny name for it and decided to ask her father why it was called that—and she didn’t have time to put the bottoms back on. Because of that, she discovered he liked looking at her vaginal region—her pussy as grownups called it—and left them off just for him.
Her mind was racing everywhere, making it difficult for her to concentrate on making lunch. Daddy had done little more than define oral sex before he drifted back to sleep. Wynter knew he needed the rest to recover from his injuries, and she understood that men used up a whole lot of energy during sexual activity and needed to rest afterward. She worried that too much sexual activity would take away energy he needed to recover from his injuries. She had said that, and he had replied, “Honey, it gives me a reason to heal faster,” before dozing off again. She was still thinking about that.
He’d looked so very uncomfortable at that forty-five degree angle, and that was what had given him a neck cramp and caused him to wake up when she was masturbating. Getting herself off, as grownups called it. All these new terms. After lunch, while he was sleeping, she’d have to start a notebook of them to help her use them properly now that she was no longer a child—she was eleven years old now, and had started mens…—menst…—having her periods.
She had forced herself to think only about what she was doing as she slowly adjusted the bed until it was flat, cranking it down a bit and then adjusting the suspension of his casts, over and over until it was done. Nurse Carter would be so very pleased with her for not waking him up once in the process. Both Daddy and Nurse Carter had told her she was a natural at being a nurse, and she could hardly wait until she could go to nursing school. Nurse Carter had even said she’d make a fine doctor, too. Wynter got warm tingles throughout her whole entire body whenever they complimented her on her nursing skills
It was while she was fixing lunch that she’d realized that Nurse Carter would return tomorrow afternoon, if the plows got the road clear of the snow from the avalanche. With Nurse Carter back, Wynter would no longer be able to relieve her father’s distress when his semen, his cum, built up too much pressure in the damaged—what were they called? The tubes where he’s been injured when she was just a baby—vast difference? That couldn’t be right, could it? She’d have to ask him to spell the right name for her so she could put it in the notebook. She understood now that she couldn’t tell Nurse Carter that she had given Daddy handjobs. And Mother would be back before Nurse Carter left, and she’d be the one to relieve Daddy’s aching testicles, his nuts, after that.
Eight seconds later the tidal wave of panic struck. Nurse Carter had removed his catheter because he was having too many erections, or hardons, and the catheter was hurting. She’d been his nurse before. She knew about the damaged tubes between his nuts and his dick and how it got too painful for him after four or five days with no relief. If he didn’t complain about the pressure, she’d wonder why. If he did, and she gave him a handjob for relief, she’d see that he didn’t have enough cum built up to cause pain. When he came an hour ago, it was just a trickle.
If Wynter did oral sex with her father, he’d probably shoot his wad again after she came, and he’d have even less cum when Nurse Carter returned. Perhaps she shouldn’t do any oral sex because of that. Besides, it didn’t sound very good when he described it. But he’d said, “Honey, it’s wonderful, and I really love doing it. You will too because it feels so very nice.”
Maybe, she thought. It sure didn’t sound very appetizing.
But he really did want to touch her pussy, and oral sex was the only way he could because his hands were in those casts. Daddy loved her so much that he wanted to make her cum because she’d made him cum because she loved him. She wondered how that sentence would look diagrammed, and then her thoughts raced to when she was cleaning him up afterward. He’d fallen asleep, and just like a grownup nurse, she’d cleaned up her patient without awakening him, except at the last second she’d put a gentle kiss of love on his dick. She doubted nurses did that to ordinary patients.
Thinking about that kiss was what had triggered her first orgasm.
And what triggered that sharp feeling of horniness that had suddenly returned to her vaginal region. No, to her pussy, she corrected herself. Well, she certainly knew what to do about that now! Her fingers were reaching under the apron that protected her slender nude body from cooking spatters, just brushing against the thin carpet of cornsilk blonde hair on her pussy when she realized what she was doing.
She couldn’t touch her pussy and then touch food! It was unsanitary!
But—Daddy wanted to put his tongue in there.
And he’d said that they’d both love it!
A yip from the door to the utility room announced that Dragon was finished with his doggie business and wanted back inside. She let the Labrador retriever in and leaned over to speak to him. She was rewarded with a tongue in the face.
She laughed and wished she could pet him, but it would be unsanitary to pet a dog and touch food. She went back to the stove, deep in thought.
If Daddy put his tongue there, would it help him with his next orgasm, his next cum, the way kissing his dick while he slept had helped her to have her first one? Dragon didn’t mind using his tongue on himself to masturbate. Of course, Dragon liked to eat what Daddy called “rabbit raisins” in the garden, so maybe that wasn’t a very good analogy. A better one instead might be….
“Oh, YUCK!”
She whirled to the sink and began scrubbing her face with dishwashing soap. The chicken soup almost boiled over before she was finished.

Chapter 2

Wynter put the tray on the table and rolled it to the bed. She stood silently, looking at her sleeping father lying there with his arms and one leg suspended in casts and a sheet covering his athletic body. His ruggedly handsome face didn’t have any of the scars that covered much of his arms and legs and body, but even if it did, she would still love him just as much. If she could have just one wish granted, it would be that he stopped having so many accidents that hurt himself.
The soup was too hot to eat, so she would just let him sleep a little longer because he needed his rest to heal. She might as well use the wait to incline the top of the bed again. At forty-five degrees she gently awakened him, rather than let his head suddenly roll and jerk him awake. A warm feeling raced through her naked body when his loving green eyes opened and looked directly into her large blue-green ones as he smiled. Her first orgasm felt really, really good, but it wasn’t nearly as good as the feeling she got from seeing him smile at her.
“Patients need their rest to heal, but they also need their nutrition so that the body has the stuff it needs to heal better,” she said, holding her long blonde ponytail to keep it out of his face as she leaned forward to give him a special nose-and-lips kiss.
“Quoting Nurse Carter?” he asked.
“No,” she said, giggling. “Nurse King.”
“Ah! Well, I trust whatever she says. She’s my favorite nurse, you know.”
Her head dropped and her eyes fastened onto his left arm cast, but she whispered, “Thank you.” She felt the heat of her blush. She was angry with herself for suddenly acting like a child again, but she didn’t know what to do when he complimented her, even though she loved hearing it. She knew he meant it, and that made it even more difficult. If he were just playing and teasing, it wouldn’t bother her and she’d tease back. But he meant it. Why hadn’t Mother told her what to do? Because Mother thought she was still a child? She could wait until Mother returned, but that would be another two weeks. Well, she would just ask Nurse Carter tomorrow. Nurse Carter would understand if she were asked in just the right way.
Her head jerked up and she frowned at him. “What?”
“Chicken?” He nodded toward the table. “The soup? It smells like chicken.”
Now she was mad at herself for thinking her father, who loved her with all his heart, had called her a name. “Oh.” She turned and pointed at each item as she said, “Home made chicken with vegetables soup and a chicken salad sandwich. Carrot sticks. Apple juice and milk.”
“No hospital food?” he asked with sad, puppy dog eyes and a downturned mouth.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said in her most serious expression. “With all the snow I just couldn’t find any road kill.”
Her father sighed heavily. “And I was hoping for some diesel-flavored chipmunk.”
They broke up in laughter. Wynter grabbed her pony tail and leaned forward to kiss him again. She saw his eyes look at her tits and slowed to give him a longer view of them. When they kissed, she felt his tongue brush across her lips, sort of like it had first brushed her nipples when he’d sucked on her tits earlier that morning.
Now what? She didn’t want to pull back. That would be childish. Should she lick her father’s lips in return? The thought made the horny feeling in her split—in her pussy, she corrected herself, wondering why she couldn’t remember to use all these new terms the way a grownup would—tingle. The thought wasn’t objectionable. But was it what he expected? She could ask, but then she’d have to stop kissing him to do so. That wouldn’t be fair to him because of his needs. Would it? Or would it be less fair to keep kissing him in a way that wasn’t what he expected or needed?
Being a grownup, Wynter suddenly realized, was a lot more work than it had seemed to her when she was just a child.
She gently pushed her tongue tip out and brushed it against her father’s lips. She was about to pull it back in when his rushed out and rubbed across hers. Drat! She had been too slow and his tongue had touched hers instead of her lips like he meant to do. She pulled it back into her mouth to give her father free access to her lips.
His tongue followed hers into her mouth! Yuck! What had she done wrong that had caused her father’s tongue to accidentally enter her mouth?
Wait a minute! He didn’t pull it back out. Instead he was rubbing her tongue with his. It couldn’t be an accident. He had to know the difference between her tongue and her lips. He was doing it on purpose! And it wasn’t really all that unpleasant. In fact, it wasn’t unpleasant at all. And the horny feeling in her pussy was getting stronger!
And then it was gone, and she felt his head draw back as far as the pillow and mattress would let him. It was over.
“I think I took you by surprise,” he said, looking deep into her blue-green eyes with a worried face. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew about French kissing by the way you responded.”
Drat! She had disappointed her father because she was ignorant of stuff she should have known. She felt puddles growing along her lower eyelids. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Mother didn’t tell me about that kind of kissing, and I didn’t know what to do. Suzie Middleton mentioned it once, but she said you just licked lips, and she didn’t know if both people did it or just one. I just guessed, and I guess I guessed wrong.”
“Oh, no, honey. Not at all! Kissing is like sex in that there’s not really a wrong way to do it. Well, unless you bite hard! Part of the fun of both kissing and sex is learning what each one likes best and sharing. And I’ll tell you a little secret about us guys if you want me to.”
She looked deep into his eyes to see if he was being serious. He was! And he wanted to share a secret with her? Then he really, truly must not be upset. She nodded, afraid her voice would break if she spoke.
“A lot of guys look at it as being a badge of honor to be the first one to do stuff with a girl. Like being the first to kiss her or to French kiss her. I’m one of them. I know that no matter how old you get and how many guys you kiss, none of them can ever be the first one to know the thrill of feeling your sweet little tongue against theirs. Only I have that honor, and that makes me feel wonderful.”
With her free hand she wiped her eyes and got another warm and tingly feeling all over from the way he was looking at her. It was a look that shouted how much he loved her. It was a look that wrapped around her and bear-hugged her the way his arms couldn’t.
“Raise the bed the rest of the way and let’s eat,” he said. ” I’ll answer your questions. I know you have plenty.”
Did she ever.


By the time they’d finished lunch it was mid-afternoon. She knew more about kissing now, and was eager to do her lessons in “the laboratory exercise,” as her father always called practicing new stuff. He had told her that it was his problem to explain to Nurse Carter why he was no longer feeling pain from “the discomfort of semen buildup.” He didn’t say how he’d do it, but he said it was taken care of and for her not to worry.
She wheeled the table aside and sat on the side of the bed, her body turned to where he could look at her tits and her pussy because that made him happy. Yes, he really did want to do oral sex with her, but not if the idea made her uncomfortable or upset. He would eat her pussy only if she really wanted it, not if she were agreeing because she thought it was what he wanted.
He didn’t see any way they could continue with sexual activities once Nurse Carter returned. And especially after Mother returned from Europe. That meant this was her only chance to learn from him.
“But, Daddy, you need your rest to recover. If you use up all your energy for me, it will take you longer to heal. I’m your nurse! I can’t make you take longer to heal just for me.”
She couldn’t identify the look he gave her. “Wynter,” he said in a gentle voice, “you’re not making this easy.”
She felt the heat of the blush spreading up her face. She was trying to be a good nurse and she had childishly done something wrong. But what? Her eyes dropped to stare at his arm cast and she couldn’t make them return to his eyes. “I’m sorry. Daddy, I’m just trying to be a good nurse for you. I’m not doing a good job of explaining it. Nurse Carter will be back tomorrow. Maybe she can explain it to you better.” She felt her voice crack with the last sentence.
“Honey, I’m the one who’s not doing a good job of explaining. I understand what you are saying, but you don’t understand me. You don’t understand what rules are all about. What I’m trying to say is that sometimes it’s okay to go against the rules.”
She frowned, thinking about that.
“Honey, I really would love it if you’d look me in the eye right now.”
Drat. She lifted her eyes to his. When she made eye contact, he broke out in a big smile. “Thanks. I just wanted to feel like you loved me.”
“Daddy, I do love you! That’s why….”
“Yes, honey, I know it in my head.” He gave her his big warm smile that always made her feel better. “But when you look at me instead of my cast or the bed rail or the floor or the table, I can also feel it in….” He winced suddenly, and Wynter flew into mother hen mode.
“Daddy? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said in a gasp. “Remind me not to try to tap my heart while I’m in these casts. What I’m trying to say—hmmm. Okay, let’s try it this way. The first couple of nights after you found Dragon and he was almost dead, you were up almost all night taking care of him, right?”
“Uh huh.” She realized how childish that sounded and grew angry with herself again. Why couldn’t she sound like a grownup?
“You were a growing girl and needed your rest to grow properly, but you spent most of two nights awake taking care of Dragon’s needs.” By the way he repeated it she realized he was “reinforcing the lesson” the way her teachers would do in nursing school, but she didn’t know what the lesson was. “By taking care of Dragon’s needs, you spent the energy you needed to grow.”
“Yes, but I made up for it after he started getting better.”
“Aha!” he said, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “You made up for it later.”
More “reinforcing the lesson.” He said nothing else. She thought about it. “You’re saying that you can make up for it later, too?”
He shrugged as best he could. “What else am I going to do when they plow the road and Ellen makes it back here? Wear myself out by going dancing with her?”
She laughed then, and that made him laugh. Wynter liked to hear her father’s rich, hearty laugh. It made her feel that the world was a happy place.
“But even if I couldn’t make up for it later,” he continued, “I wouldn’t care. If it took me another day, or even two or three days more, I wouldn’t care because I was doing something for you. Honey, you’re going to learn that as a grownup, you always find yourself having to make choices. Sometimes there’s no best choice. Heck, sometimes there’s not even a good choice. That’s called the ‘lesser of two evils’ decision. But that’s not what this one is for me.”
She stared into his deep eyes, thinking about that.
“When you’re a parent, just like when you were caring for Dragon, you’ll sometimes choose to do not what is best for you at the moment. It might not even be what’s best for your child at that moment, but what’s best in the long run. Do you understand?”
She scrunched her eyebrows in thought for a moment. “Like that time I was really sick and had a high temperature? I was freezing and wanted Mother to cover me up, but she put me in the bathtub and poured water on me to get my fever down?”
Her father made an embarrassed face. “Well, that’s a much better example than mine about you wanting candy before suppertime. I sure am lucky you’re the brains in the family.”
She laughed again and squeezed his leg to her hip in a hug. “You said Dragon was the brains in the family!”
“Well, that was last summer. You got smarter since then.” He looked at his casts. “Apparently I didn’t.”
“Daddy! It wasn’t your fault that drunk hit you.”
“No, but if I hadn’t been trying to change the CD, I might have been able to duck, or at least keep from being rolled down the hillside. You remember this when you start driving.”
“I will, Daddy,” she said in the most solemn, grownup manner she could use. She slid off the bed and moved to where his arm cast wouldn’t be in the way when she kissed him.
She suddenly realized that his eyes hadn’t moved to her tits or her pussy once. He’d kept them on hers the whole time, despite how much he said he loved looking at them! Did he not like it any more? Or did he keep his eyes on hers because that was what was best in the long run? It had to be the latter. She got that warm, tingly feeling all over again when she realized that he was showing her how much he loved her with his actions. The moment their lips met, her tongue rushed forward. She was going to show him that she loved him just as much as he loved her. And that was a lot!

Chapter 3

When Wynter returned with the empty urinal, he was already asleep again. She was glad that she’d put the bed down first, rather than leaving him sitting upright while she cleaned the container. She hadn’t even masturbated him after he was finished urinating. Or peeing, as the grownups said among themselves. She put the urinal in its storage location and noted the time and volume on his records for Nurse Carter.
She had her own record keeping to perform now. She’d fetch a new notebook, one of the thin ones the size of a hardback book, and write down all those new grownup terms she’d learned. Just as soon as she finished with her patient. She rechecked the suspended casts. If her father had moved, they might be pulling his shoulders uncomfortably. She guessed “uncomfortably” was a relative term since they couldn’t be comfortable under any circumstances. He’d wanted a pain pill with his last meds. He had been taking i-bu-pro-fen—Wynter wondered why she always had trouble saying that word. He had been saving the remaining few pain pills in case he needed some and Nurse Carter was still trapped in town by the avalanche. Nurse Carter was trapped there because the pharmacist had mis-read Doctor Taylor’s yucky handwriting and had filled his pain prescription with a laxative, and she had rushed to town in the blizzard to get more pain pills.
When Wynter was satisfied, she held her ponytail out of the way as she leaned over to gently kiss him. She slid her tongue forward just enough to touch it to his lips, and he sighed gently. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered as she pulled back and looked down his body.
She saw the slight bulge in the sheet where his penis—his dick—was. She moved around the cast and stood beside his legs, gently lifting the sheet away to look at that ruddy three inches of his body that made her father feel so good when she jacked him off. She thought about that term and remembered her father using a car jack once. The hand movement was sort of the same, so she supposed that was where the term came from. She decided to put that observation in her “Sexual Words” notebook when she started it.
She again felt the impulse to kiss his dick and took her ponytail in her left hand. The tingly feeling sprang to life down there in her pussy, especially in her clitty, as she bent forward with her coral lips puckered. A wave of incredibly strong horniness washed over her when her lips touched his dick, just as had happened before.
A thought struck her as she was straightening. She bent forward and kissed his dick again, this time sliding her wet tongue between her lips to caress the top side of it during the kiss. The first wave of horniness was like a candle compared to the bonfire that exploded between her legs. She needed one hand to keep her ponytail from tickling her father and awakening him, and the other to support her weight as she leaned forward on rubbery knees, but she could achieve a little bit of relief with thigh masturbation. She squeezed her firm, slender thighs together against her aching clitty and twisted and humped her lower body. It didn’t feel nearly as good as her fingers in her split—her pussy, she corrected herself again—but it helped give some relief.
His dick started to swell slightly and she stopped, rising to look at his face to see if she was awakening him before his body said he’d had enough rest. He hadn’t moved, except for his dick. She used her nose to point it up his stomach, where she could kiss the nerves on the bottom side, right where he’d told her it felt best when she rubbed him with her hand. When she did, it grew a little more, until it wasn’t hard yet, but it wasn’t soft any more, either.
On impulse, probably because she was thinking about her father performing oral sex on her, she opened her mouth and let half the head slide in. The bonfire in her clitty became a forest fire. A moan exploded from her. She suddenly grew scared that she would awaken him too soon if she continued, though she really didn’t want to stop yet.
But she was being childish in thinking about her needs instead of her patient’s. She reluctantly removed her mouth and gave him a soft, gentle kiss on the nerve spot. She wondered if it had a medical name and if grownups had another name for it.
With his sheet back in place she again checked his casts and eased across the hall to her room to find an unused notebook. Dragon moved the five feet from one door to the other.
She sat in her chair at her desk, which she’d moved to the wall by the door. By leaning forward just a little she could see through the facing doors and observe her sleeping father. Her patient, she corrected herself. She was Daddy’s nurse. The last time she’d masturbated him—given him a hand job—she’d done it for her father, but the first two times were for her patient. He was asleep now, and he was her patient again.
But he’d said that after he slept a little bit, he’d become her teacher and she’d be Daddy’s student while he taught her about oral sex. She thought about having her father’s dick in her mouth and the forest fire blazed to life. There was a lingering salty taste, probably from the tiny amount of urine, or pee, remaining on his dick or in the—the—that “u” word. Urethra. It sounded yucky to think about, but actually it wasn’t bad.
She wondered if she’d taste salty to her father when he stuck his tongue in her pussy, even though she carefully wiped and blotted in the bathroom. And she scrubbed her split really, really good when she bathed, too. Well, there was just one way to find out.
She was surprised to discover that her fingers were already in her split, massaging the tiny hard stick of her clitoris. She’d even dragged some of her natural lubrication from her vaginal opening to her clitty while she was rubbing it. It was only the second time she had used her fingers to masturbate and already her body was acting without conscious thought on her part.
She’d better ask her father if that was okay when he woke up. She thought so, but there was so much about sex stuff that he hadn’t told her. Grownups sure had to keep track of a lot of information.
She moved a finger to her vaginal opening—her cunny, she corrected herself. Or was it? She stared at the open notebook, its pages still unmarked except for the heading on the first page, “Sex Terminology.” She liked the way that sounded grownup—much more so than “Sex Words.” Was her cunny just her vaginal opening or all of the area inside her split? Where did her pussy quit and her cunny begin? She grabbed a throwaway notepad and scribbled her questions onto it so that she wouldn’t forget to ask her father. That way she wouldn’t have to make corrections in the notebook.
She was having trouble holding the pen while she wrote. Halfway through the first question she realized that her fingers were wet with her natural lubrication, and it was really slick. She chastised herself—another grownup-sounding word that she liked—for not paying more attention to what she was doing. A patient’s life depended on his nurse paying strict attention to the smallest details.
She set the pen down and brought her fingertips to her nose. It didn’t smell like urine, but it did smell like her split. It was a clean smell and not unpleasant. She hoped that her father wouldn’t be disappointed or upset by it, though she had no idea what he expected. She worried that it was different from other women’s and that he wouldn’t like it, but she couldn’t think of any way to find out except for her father to tell her. And then it would be too late.
She eased the tip of her tongue out and lightly touched the natural lubrication on her fingers. She pulled her tongue back in at the instant she knew it had touched the liquid. She really didn’t taste anything. She tasted again, leaving her tongue in contact for almost half a second. Strange, but not unpleasant.
After a third try she coated her finger with more of the natural lubrication in her split and put the finger in her mouth. She couldn’t define the flavor, but she decided that it didn’t taste bad to her. Of course, she still didn’t know how it would taste to her father when he ate her pussy. She resumed worrying about that as she used a tissue to wipe her fingers clean and picked up the pen. As she began writing, her left hand moved to her pussy and a finger worked its way into her split to stroke her hard little clitty.
She tried really, really hard to keep from making noise that would awaken her father when she came.

Chapter 4

Richard King slowly awoke from a dream about looking at flowers while walking down a mountain trail with Wynter. He couldn’t remember any more than that, but he remembered that he was enjoying the moment. Maybe he’d ask her if she wanted to go for a walk with him, down to the flat rock by the creek where she practiced her flute lessons. They’d pick wildflowers—flowers were growing now, weren’t they?
He opened his eyes. Past the ropes suspending his right arm cast he saw the late spring blizzard was winding down to scattered flakes, with the sun trying to break through the clouds. The real world crept back into his mind with all the subtlety of a dynamite charge.
He rolled his head to the left, expecting to see Wynter sitting in the padded chair. When she wasn’t there, he tried to lift his head high enough to see if she was in her sleeping bag near the foot of his bed. Movement beyond he door caught his eye. It was Dragon, getting up to turn a circle and lie down again in her doorway. The dog never left her side willingly, except to make his “doggie trips” outside. He always positioned himself in a doorway so that she couldn’t leave a single-exit room without going past him, waking him if he were asleep. In a room with multiple exits, he would sometimes move from one to the other at intervals.
Beyond Dragon he saw her desk’s new location and her slender arms atop it. She was writing in one of her notebooks. Half of a shelf in her bookcase was filled with her notebooks of various sizes, each dedicated to a different topic ranging from recipes—she was already as good a cook as her mother—to medical conditions and treatments to wildlife to notes about piano and flute techniques. The latter two were in separate books, of course.
She even had at least one large notebook with unlined pages where she made sketches, though she was unaware that her parents knew about that. Angie had found it open on her desk one day, but looked only at the open page. It showed a sketch of Dragon with a waterfall in the background. Angie had told him about it, saying that Wynter had shown talent in the sketch, but she didn’t know if it was a recent sketch or one that was a few years old. Richard wished he could have seen it, but Wynter had returned it to the shelf by the time he’d returned home. By that time, Angie was exceptionally enraged with herself for having looked at the drawing, but she’d been so surprised that she hadn’t had time to think until it was too late.
They treated Wynter’s notebooks the same as they’d treat her diary if she kept one—personal. In effect, they were a diary, just one in multiple volumes. After twenty years Angie was still furious over the time her older sister, Diana, had picked the lock on her diary and read her most personal thoughts. She felt betrayed by her sister and swore that she’d never make Wynter feel the same way. Richard willingly agreed to treat Wynter’s notebooks the same, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he’d refused to do so, Angie would have shot him with the .38 Special she carried when hiking in the mountain forests. The only thing that had more importance to her than that betrayal was Wynter and himself.
Wynter’s desk had sides that kept him from seeing her long slender legs, firmly muscled and covered in creamy soft, pale skin that had lost virtually all of last summer’s tan. They were just beginning to show the signs of the sculpturing they would have when she finished the transition from girl to woman. And that transition was well underway with her two small, wide-spaced hemispheres that were so soft and yet so firm at the edges of a ribcage that stood out in ripples like a washboard. The narrow waist that was pinching in above the soft flare of her hips. The wonderful, sexy little butt that had started rounding and filling out, looking more woman-like than childlike now. And the prominent little mound with its thin covering of half-inch blonde hair that started above the point of her sweet little slit and was spreading in a thin line down the soft-looking pillows of her outer lips.
He silently laughed at himself for being an idiot. He had known she was growing titties—not only were the bulges visible under her tighter blouses, but there were training bras in the laundry that certainly didn’t belong to Angie. But it had never occurred to him that she was also growing a mat of pussy hair on that cute little cunt. Cute was the operative word. Richard had never seen a prettier pecker playpen in his life. If he could sit down and draw up plans for his dream twat, he’d have Wynter’s on paper when he was done.
The most exciting moment in his life to date had been sucking on those incredibly exciting little titties. And now, unless she’d changed her mind, which he doubted, he was going to have that little honeybox pressed down on his face. If he could keep her there until Ellen Carter was able to return from town, it wouldn’t be long enough. If her could keep her there until Angie returned from Europe, it wouldn’t be long enough. If he could keep her there until the universe ended, it wouldn’t be long enough.
Movement against the sheet told him that the Beast was stirring, growing hard at the thought. He wondered if he could get her to suck his dick of her own accord—he desperately wanted her to suck him, but he wanted her to do so because she wanted to do it, not because he wanted her to do so. He emitted a hybrid sound between a sigh and a moan that she didn’t hear. But Dragon did.
The dog’s front half shot up from the floor, and he looked over his shoulder at Richard. That caused Wynter to lean forward and look into his room. Her mother hen face appeared in an instant and she sprang from her chair.
“Daddy, are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you need something? Are you in pain? Do you need a pill or just some water?” The questions began before she was out of her room.
Richard tried desperately not to laugh. The hormones surging through her body made her even more sensitive than usual to what she perceived as criticism, and even on her best days, she was a perfectionist with a determination that could be almost infuriating.
“Honey, I’m fine. I woke up was all. I’m tired of sleeping. I guess Dragon heard me yawn or something.”
She was at his left shoulder, looking down at him over the rise of those sweet, adorable young breasts with their creamy smooth texture and the small pink cones rising from them. He couldn’t believe the strength of the desire that his own daughter’s sprouting little sweater stuffers generated within him. He couldn’t see her sweet little pussy now, but those adorable titties were so wonderful that he didn’t care.
“Actually,” he said, “I could use a sip of water. And a kiss, if you don’t mind. I’m sure my breath is worse than Dragon’s right now, so if you don’t want to kiss me yet, you don’t have to.”
She put her fists on the gentle flare of her hips and stared down, trying to look stern. “Any woman who didn’t want to kiss you would have to be crazy. And I’m not crazy! Dragon says so.”
“Well, your mother’s not crazy, either, and some mornings she doesn’t want to kiss me.”
“Maybe she just doesn’t love you as much as I do.”
Before Richard could reply she realized what she had said. Her standard look of panic swept over her face, and words rushed out in a jumble. “Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry I said that! I was just teasing. I didn’t mean that Mother doesn’t love you. I didn’t mean to….”
“Honey, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I know exactly what you meant. Okay?” He wished his arms were free to encircle and comfort her. “Besides, maybe you do love me more than she does. There’s no way anybody can prove whether you’re right or wrong about that. But the important thing is that you both love me more than enough.”
The panicked look faded to puzzlement. “More than enough?”
“Sure. You love me enough to make me feel warm and comfy and good all over, but you also love me more than that. I take the more part and store it in here,” he said, looking down at his chest, “in my heart and that way I can still feel warm and comfy and good all over when I’m not around you. Like I have to do now while your mother is overseas, and like I have to do when I go to work.”
He said nothing while she thought about it for a moment, and then was rewarded by slender arms flying around his neck and her sweet coral lips lowering to kiss him. “I have the nicest father in the whole wide world,” she said. “And the nicest patient.” It was a father/daughter kiss, with no tongue action, but Richard didn’t mind in the least. It was the sweetest kiss imaginable.
She flew back as if shocked. “Oh, drat! I forgot about your water!”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes I did! You asked for water and I….”
“And you gave me what I needed the most first, and now you’re about to give me my water. Just like a responsible adult would do. And what a good nurse would do.”
She apparently realized he was serious because she blushed and her eyes dropped away from his. She poured half a glass of cold water from the insulated pitcher and put a bent straw in it. “I should raise the bed,” she said.
“Wait about that until after we talk. I can drink it lying down.”
After she put the empty glass back on the stand he had her sit beside him on the bed. His eyes swept over as much of her body as he could see from his prone position. “Honey, do you still want me to eat your pussy?”
He watched mother hen fight with personal desire behind her eyes. She slowly nodded. “But only if it’s not….”
“Stop,” he said, but with a gentle smile to ease the moment. He knew the routine that should keep her from feeling rebuked. “Recess is over. Class is now is session. I will call the roll of students. Wynter?”
“Here.” Her head was down, but her eyes were on his and she was smiling. It had worked.
“Good. Everybody’s present,” he announced, while she giggled as usual. He tried to ignore the patterns her sweet nipples traced when her ribcage quivered. “Today’s lesson is on relationships between women and men. I’ll grant you that your mother is better qualified to teach this from your perspective, but I’ve been appointed substitute teacher for the day. Any objections?”
“None,” she said with a bright smile and a shake of her head. “You’re better qualified than Mother to teach me from your perspective.”
“Well, you know that, and I know that, but let’s keep that our secret and not tell your mother. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said with another giggle. There were times that her mother insisted she knew more about men than her father did. Richard, of course, didn’t even pretend to understand anything about women.
Richard again wished his arms were free. It was difficult lecturing without the ability to make gestures. His father said that the fault came from his mother’s Italian blood. “For a relationship to work, the two people have to learn to be honest with each other and to respect the other’s opinions or wishes. Let’s pull a random hypothetical scenario out of thin air.”
Wynter giggled again, knowing what was coming.
“Let’s say you are a nurse with a patient you love, and he loves you. He offers to eat your pussy, but he’s concerned that you might not want him to. Let’s say he’s afraid that if you say yes, it’s because you’re doing what you think he wants and not what you want. Let’s say you want him to eat your pussy, but you’re afraid that if he does so, it’s not what’s best for him. Or maybe you don’t want him to, but you’re afraid that if you say so, you will hurt his feelings. Or maybe you want him to, but you’re afraid that he really doesn’t want to. Or he really doesn’t want to, but he’s offering because he thinks that’s what you want. Or—hmmmm.”
He scrunched up his face and studied the ceiling as if in deep thought. “I think that’s everything.” He shrugged. “Well, it’s close enough. Now, here’s the key: you have to be totally honest with each other. You can’t answer based upon what you think the other person wants, and you can’t be upset with what the other person says. Am I going too fast for you?”
She shook her head, causing her blonde ponytail to lash about. “Those rattling marbles sounded like a negative response,” he said, causing another round of giggles. Richard knew from vast experience that as long as he could keep Wynter laughing, she’d accept the message without feeling she was being chastised.
“A relationship, especially with someone you love, can’t work if you aren’t sure whether the other partner is fibbing about what he or she wants. The first time you’re not sure, it causes a teensy little crack that you can’t even see. Every time after that the crack gets a little wider until it’s as big as the vacant space between your Aunt Diane’s ears.”
“Daddy!” She tried to look stern, but it was hard to do when she was doubled over in laughter.
“Now, here’s the important part of the lesson.” He waited for her to stop laughing and give him her full attention. It was her cue that this was where she should pay complete attention. “The crack in the relationship can grow only so wide until the relationship breaks apart. Understand?”
He waited. No matter how obvious one of his lessons was, Wynter always thought about what he had said to see if she could find either hidden meanings or flaws in his logic. After a moment she nodded. “You’re saying you shouldn’t offer unless it’s what you really want, and I shouldn’t accept unless it’s what I really want, or else we’d risk our relationship.”
“Well, it’s not about us. It’s purely a hypothetical scenario. It could be about you and your future husband. Or maybe between you and some boy you meet in college.”
Wynter looked puzzled. “Why would some boy I met in college want to eat my pussy?”
Richard sighed. Angie was in for some interesting mother-daughter conversations when she returned. “Let’s save that for another class because it takes us too far off this lesson’s topic.”
“Okay.” It was obvious that she was mentally filing the question for later resurrection, undoubtedly before Angie returned. “What if one person wants to and the other doesn’t and they say so?”
“Oh, good question! We’ve been paying attention.” That sideways compliment caused Wynter to duck her head, but this time she kept her eyes on his and she smiled. Richard was amazed that this lesson was going so smoothly. His little girl really was growing up. The change in just the short interval between the time Ellen Carter called to say she’d been stranded in town and now bordered on incredible. Angie was going to accuse him of switching daughters while she was gone. Well, he thought, she should have realized that Wynter was growing up and done a better job of talking to and preparing her. A moment later he retracted that thought. He hadn’t even realized it himself.
“The answer to that question is: ‘It depends.’” He waited for the frown and then continued. “There’s no one fixed answer, honey. It all depends on the situation. Sometimes one side will give in, and sometimes the other will. I guess the answer is based on needs, though usually the “No” will be the deciding answer.”
“Then, uh….” Her face scrunched while she tried to think of a way to word her question.
“I’m your teacher and you’re my student,” he reminded her, knowing what the question was. “It’s okay to ask anything.”
“Then you and Mother….” She turned red and didn’t finish the sentence. Her expression changed, and he realized she was now angry with herself for blushing.
“We love each other and we do what’s best for both of us. Sometimes it’s what she wants, sometimes it’s what I want. Usually a ‘No’ answer is followed by, ‘But tomorrow…,’ or ‘In a couple of hours…,’ or something like that.”
Wynter sighed. “Why do grownups always have to make things so complicated?”
“To make our kids think we’re smarter than they are,” he said as she reached for the edge of the sheet and pulled it down, exposing the flaccid Beast.
“Okay,” she said as she took it in her warm, soft hand and began gently pumping it back to life. “If you think it’s not too early.” When he questioned that she replied, “Well, I masturbated after you went to sleep, and I came again. I’d like for you to eat my pussy if you think I’ve rested long enough that I can cum again.”
Something else Angie obviously hadn’t told her. “Honey, women aren’t like men. We have to rest between orgasms, but women can have one after another for as long as they can stand it.”
Mother hen’s face reappeared and turned to a look of horror. “That’s not fair!”

Chapter 5

For a while, Richard thought he would need a physician and a consulting engineer to work out a position that wasn’t uncomfortable for either of them and that didn’t put him in risk of greater injury if she should slip. The latter was mostly Wynter’s concern because she was very aware of her father’s accident-prone nature. Fortunately for Richard, his daughter had more sense than he did, and for that he was thankful. He was in far too big a hurry to taste that wonderful juvenile pussy and would have gone with the first position where she could rub her sweet little cunt on his face. He could just picture Ellen Carter showing up to find him with two dislocated shoulders and a bad case of pussy breath.
He was going to have enough trouble explaining—somehow—why he no longer suffered pain from seminal buildup.
They found the right combination of slight elevation of the head of the bed plus an additional pillow that allowed her to kneel on either side of his body with that firm, round little butt toward his face—he made a mental note to nibble on it to check its firmness—and her feet under his elevated arms and shoulders. From there she could push her little love box back to his face, as she was now doing. That position had an additional advantage: it put her face near the Beast, should she decide to return the favor. But later: he didn’t want her to be distracted while she enjoyed her first cunnilingus session.
“Daddy, after I masturbated, my pussy was just a big mess from my natural lubrication,” she said, “so I washed and dried it for you. If I didn’t do it good enough, I can go wash it again.”
Richard inhaled the intoxicating aroma of faint soap, clean cunt, and young skin from mere inches away. The Beast began showing renewed interest. “Honey, as long as your pussy is kept normally clean, it’s just fine. If you don’t wash for a couple of days and it gets all funky, then that’s different, but fresh pussy juice has some kind of chemicals—pher… phera… whatever they are—that attract men and make us interested.”
“You mean ‘pheromones,’ like bug traps use?” she asked, looking down between her small, round breasts and between those long, slim thighs to the lower part of his face.
Richard’s eyes where roaming over the almost flawless thighs and buttocks, the soft, fat little pillows of her outer labia, the thin line of the inner lips just visible within her slit, and the short cornsilk hair growing on her prominent mound and trailing back thinly along either side of her sweet-smelling slit. When he had time, he’d be amazed again at what Wynter did and did not know.
“That’s the word,” he said. “Honey, it smells just wonderful and looks—well, it looks good enough to eat, and I can’t wait any longer to taste you. Are you ready?”
She was. He guided her back and rubbed his nose over her butt cheeks, down along her thighs, and up them to the already dampening pinkness within her little slit. The tip of his nose toyed with the little button of her clit. It swelled and stiffened before he moved his nose into the wetness that was collecting at the tiny opening of her love tunnel. He noted that the entrance wasn’t restricted by a hymen, as he had expected. She was an active, athletic girl and could have ruptured it any number of times and ways over the past several years, but he was sure he knew how she lost it.
He eased the tip of his nose into the tight, wet tube and inhaled what she would probably refer to now as her “natural pheromones.” He nose-fucked her twice before sliding his juice-slickened snout up to the tight pucker of her little butt hole. That, too, had been scrubbed fresh and clean, he noticed, as his tongue licked the downy pillows of her outer lips. He placed several kisses on her thighs, ass, and pussy before repeating the lick. Then he slowly licked his was into her slit and alternated between probing the entrance to her love mine and the hard little stick of her twat trigger.
Maybe he was alive, maybe he was dead; whichever it was, Richard King was in Heaven.


Wynter felt nervous anxiety as she knelt over father’s body with her pussy almost touching his face. She was so afraid that he’d be disappointed with her pussy once he tasted it. She shivered when his nose rubbed lightly over her behind—her butt or ass, as grownups called it—and then down her legs, and then up between them. The horny feeling in her clitty started growing, and when his nose brushed that little hard stick of flesh, the feeling seemed to consume her whole lower body. If Daddy didn’t like her pussy, she’d have to get herself off with her fingers, and she’d do it while sitting in the chair so he could watch. Unless, of course, he was so disappointed with her that he didn’t want to watch, either. In that case, she’d have to wait until he went to sleep.
She thought she’d die from either horniness or happiness, she wasn’t sure which, when his nose slid into the tight, wet opening of her burning cunny. There was a not-unpleasant feeling of coldness when he inhaled and air rushed across her inner lips. Or whatever they were called. And then she felt her father’s nose push up inside of her, and again, and again, and she heard his sigh of pleasure. She knew that was what is was because it sounded just like her own. And with that, she knew he was pleased, and that she could stop worrying. If there was something he didn’t like, it had been overcome by her natural pheromones.
His nose slid out of her opening, and she felt a mixture of both disappointment with its absence and anticipation at what might be next. It probed her anus. Her butt hole, if grownups called people’s the same as Daddy had called Dragon’s. She needed to remember to ask him about that. She was suddenly thankful that she’d had the foresight to wash everything down there very thoroughly when she took her shower.
And then she stopped thinking when she felt his tongue caress the fat little pads on either side of her split. Her jump in horniness left no room for thought. She felt a dozen kisses on her cunny, her butt, her legs, seeming to all land at once. Another lick along her split tightened the clock spring in her cunny another notch. And another. And another. He was slowly licking his way into her split, and Wynter thought she would die of pleasure overdose before she could cum again. His tongue in her pussy felt as much better than French kissing as French kissing felt better than regular kissing.
His tongue stroked along the length of her clitty, to include the exposed head. It didn’t feel uncomfortable the way her finger did, even when she coated her finger with her natural lubrication—her pussy juice, said the correcting thought that seemed to come from another world.
She shivered with delight when his exploring tongue reached her cunny opening, expecting him to repeat the lick. Instead, it snaked inward until it was insider her cunny, making her gasp in surprise. It pulled back and thrust in again, several times, causing her to wonder if fucking felt that good, too.
What was that noise? It was her, moaning every time his hot tongue pushed up into her tight cunny hole. She held her breath, but the moaning continued. It was her father, and they had been moaning together, except, she vaguely realized, they were off-key. She thought that she should make an effort to get on key with him, but his tongue had pulled out of her cunny and returned for another lick up the length of her hard little clitty, and she lost all control of her next moan, and the ones that followed as he switched between licking her aching clitty and probing up her burning cunny hole.
When she was masturbating that afternoon for her second time ever, she had wondered if oral sex would feel as good as masturbation. The answer was clearly, “No.” It felt a lot better!
She knelt there, with her face above his hard dick, moaning in discordant harmony, feeling the spring in her cunny grow tighter and tighter and tighter as she enjoyed his mixture of furious licking and kissing and sucking on everything he could reach between her legs. She almost came when he sucked her clitty between his lips and began flipping it with his tongue. He had stopped at exactly the wrong moment and resumed shoving his tongue into her cunny hole.
Her eyes were closed! She opened them and saw that she was resting her upper body on her forearms, just above his lower abdominal area. His large, hard dick was an inch away, moving as her father humped empty air, the dark hair around it moving with the air panting out of her lungs. She lowered her head and kissed the nerve bundle just below the head and heard him gasp. She licked the underside from the tip of the head back to his nuts, and he moaned and humped harder. She repeated the movement, and he began licking the length of her clitty, in time with her licking his dick. His body began tensing under hers, and his dick began to swell even larger.
She brought her mouth back to the tip and opened wide to take the head in. The tight spring in her cunny overwound and exploded in a thousand shards, each one riding its own wave of pleasure through her body.
She wasn’t sure who came first.


Wynter was lying face down on her father’s torso, her face next to the end of his dick and her cunny in his face. She was gasping for air, and he was shaking like an earthquake under her as his body also gasped for air. She felt his hot breath on her very upper legs and her pussy, and he seemed to be softly moaning. It was a happy-sounding moan, not one of pain or discomfort. She started giggling and couldn’t stop. She was that happy. She slowly pulled her feet out from under his extended arms, rose on hands and knees, and turned her head to look at him.
She felt something thick and wet at the corner of her mouth and wiped it away when she was balanced and able to lift a hand. It was his semen—his cum. Then she remembered that she’d been sucking on his dick when he came. She touched her tongue to it, decided she liked it, and with a twist of her finger, wiped it onto her tongue and swallowed it. She turned about, careful not to bump his arm casts or his leg cast, and looked at him while still on all fours above him. He looked even happier than he had after her last handjob; happier than after she let him suck her tits. His face was smeared with her natural lubrication—her pussy juice, she reminded herself—making it seem to glow.
He gave her that warm, loving smile that in turn made her glow all inside, and he gasped, “Honey… I hope… you had… as much fun… as I had.” If he hadn’t been a man, she’d have sworn that he giggled before he said, “That’s the best time… I’ve ever had… in my entire life.”
She carefully eased up over his whole body and lowered herself, watching for signs that she was causing him discomfort, until she was stretched out atop him, with his dick between her thighs and her arms trying to wrap around his body under his arms. He couldn’t hug her, so she hugged for both of them.
“I love you, Daddy,” she said, squeezing her arms tighter about him.
“I love you, too, Wynter.” His voice said he meant it, and that made her body tingle all over.
They lay there in silence for a few moments, enjoying the warm closeness of each other. Before long he spoke again. “Honey, would you do me a favor?’
She raised upright, Mother Hen rushing to her face, though a little slower than usual. “What do you need? I’ll do it for you?”
He gave her a strange look—almost a disappointed one. “You were doing it until you raised up,” he said, getting back his breath. He panted for a second and then said, “I wanted you to stay right were you were and to keep holding me for a while.”
“Oh. Sure! Tell me if I put pressure on your casts.” She eased back down, watching his face for signs of pain. When she was down, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her chin against his chest instead of her cheek. She smiled as she looked at his face. She couldn’t believe how happy he looked.
“Honey,” he asked, sounding almost a little nervous, “if it’s not too much trouble and it’s not uncomfortable for you, would you mind holding me while I go to sleep? I’m barely able to stay awake, despite the fact that I’m so happy that I don’t want to go to sleep.”
“It’s no trouble, Daddy. But you have my natural—I mean, my pussy juice smeared all over your face. Don’t you want me to clean you up first?”
“Huh uh,” he grunted. “Not unless it bothers you.”
“Not really,” she said, turning her head and squeezing him tightly, not caring that the pajama top button was hard against her cheekbone. “I guess my natural pheromones work on you, huh?”
He made an odd laugh that sounded echoy through the ear against his chest. “I guess they do, honey. I’m sorry I can’t stay awake. Women always complain that men want to go to sleep right after their orgasms. Maybe I have a legitimate excuse, though?”
“You’re hurt, and you need to rest to recover,” she said, keeping her face tight against his chest as she continued to hug him. “You have a reason, not an excuse.” She thought that sounded like a grownup response and was very pleased with herself.


Richard awoke to a pressure on his body. He opened his eyes and saw blonde hair just below his chin. His face seemed tight, and he remembered. He licked the dried pussy juice and saliva mix from his lips. My god, she still tasted wonderful. She was asleep, breathing slowly and evenly.
He was uncomfortable, but he was always uncomfortable with his arms and one leg hanging there, pulling slightly against their joints. But he was being held in a warm, comforting embrace. She was no longer squeezing, but her arms were still warm around him. He wished he’d had her remove his pajama top first so that he could feel her silky-smooth skin against his. Of course, she might have found all his scars to be uncomfortable, he admitted.
He had felt wonderful when Angie squat-fucked him before she left, but that was nothing compared to how his eleven-year-old daughter had made him feel by humping her juicy little twat in his face and sucking on the Beast. He hadn’t expected the blow job, and he didn’t have a chance to warn her that he was cumming. He was surprised that she said nothing about him cumming in her mouth. Not that she’d had much opportunity to say anything, but if she’d been upset, he was certain that she would have said something, wouldn’t she? But she was Wynter.
She had wiped some seepage from the corner of her mouth and swallowed it when she arose afterward. He hadn’t planned to bring up the idea of oral sex on himself at that time and was more than pleased that she’d done it of her own volition.
The memory made the Beast twitch once. He thought the bastard was dead after the strength of his last orgasm. He wondered where his body had found enough cum to shoot into his daughter’s sweet, coral-lipped mouth and its rows of perfect white teeth. Perhaps he hadn’t actually shot into her mouth after all, and what she wiped from her lips was his entire load, expended outside her mouth. But he was sure he remembered her lips encircling the head and her tongue rubbing rings around it as the Beast opened fire.
He lay there for a long while, memorizing every detail of the moment. He was wondering if there were any way he could keep her there that night as he finally drifted back to sleep.

Chapter 6

The tickling sensation at the end of his nose wouldn’t go away. Richard couldn’t move his arm to swipe at it, and his arm hurt when he tried. He dragged himself to consciousness and opened his eyes to see blonde bangs brushing across the tip of his nose, then lifting to reveal two sparkling blue-green pools checking to see if he was awake yet. When she saw him looking at her, her face lifted higher to bring puckered coral lips up for a nose-and-lips kiss. There were no words to express how loved he felt every time she did that. He had difficulty forcing his smile into a pucker as her lips lowered to gently kiss his.
“Time to wake up,” she said. “You should have taken your pills a half-hour ago.”
She said it in a calm voice, with a hint of a smile. Richard couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d jumped up and kicked him in the nuts. Wynter always fretted herself silly if she were just five minutes late with his pills. Always, that is, until this time.
“You’re waking me up to give me a sleeping pill?” he asked with an exaggerated frown.
“I don’t think you need one,” she said, her face suddenly glowing with a huge smile.
That wasn’t the way the game went. Something was different.
“It took me ten minutes to wake you up,” she said with an odd giggle.
Something was radically different. It wasn’t her little-girl-giggle that he often heard when they joked with each other. It sounded, well—more grown up, he finally decided.
“You’ve been tickling my nose for ten minutes?”
“Unh uh,” she said. “That only took about ten seconds.” The huge smile remained as radiant as before as she searched his eyes with her own.
“Well, then just what were you doing for the other nine minutes and fifty seconds?” His futile attempt to sound stern changed her giggle to a laugh.
“Tickling you with my hair,” she said.
He frowned, trying to make sense of that. It was the tickling with her hair that had awakened him.
She reached behind her and wrapped her hand around the Beast. It was erect, though it had to be a piss-hardon after the workout it had endured the past couple of days. The thought made him realize how distended his bladder was. Then somebody finally hit him with a mental sledgehammer. “Oh!”
“It got hard, but you didn’t wake up,” Wynter said. She was having trouble sounding disappointed because she couldn’t stop smiling and giggling. She lifted her butt from his abdomen, relieving some of his bladder pressure, and scooted back until she was over his hard dick. She lowered her body slightly and brushed the cornsilk of her nether hair along the rigid Beast.
“Not even when I did this,” she said with another giggle. “Or this,” she added, lowering a little more until he felt the warmth of her pillowy outer lips against his dick. She hunched her hips slowly and left a warm, wet trail along his lance of lust, then reversed her direction and added to it. She moaned softly, and need showed in her eyes.
“It felt so good to me that I came in just a couple of minutes, Daddy, but you didn’t wake up then, either.”
Damn! “I’m truly sorry I missed that, honey. I really would have loved seeing it.” The only time he’d seen her orgasm up close was when her juicy little twat had been smeared across his face. He had loved watching the way her cunt had swollen and throbbed, especially that short stretch between her sweet little vagina and her hot little anus, and the way her opening expanded and then squeezed shut, as if it were sneezing. But he also wanted to watch her face during orgasm, to see if her expressions, like her contractions, mimicked Angie’s.
“Well,” she said, lowering her head but keeping eye contact, “I guess I could do it again for you. After you’ve had your pills.”
“Promise?” he asked, realizing he must have sounded like a schoolboy being offered a new bicycle.
“Cross my heart,” she replied, tracing an “X” between those two wonderful pink orbs bracketing her heart. “A good nurse never fibs to her patient,” she continued, lowering the Beast gently to his stomach and releasing it.
“Nurse? I thought you were my student!”
“Nurse now, then student,” she said in a stern voice, carefully swinging her left leg over so that she could climb off the bed, “or else I’ll have to explain to Nurse Carter why your pills were so late.” She tried to give him a glare that matched her voice, the way Ellen Carter had done on a couple of occasions when he’d been obstinate, but she broke up in a fit of giggles.
“Well, Nurse King, I need two things worse than I need the pills, and the first is the urinal and the second is a kiss.”
She understood that the second priority for the kiss meant that he was desperate for the urinal and flew into action. She had the bed upright in record time, yet managed to do it without causing any additional discomfort to his arms and leg. Or perhaps the pain in his bladder caused him to ignore any such additional discomfort. Fortunately the Beast had retreated so that he could piss as soon as she had his flaccid cock in the mouth of the urinal.
She smiled at him when he moaned in relief, then turned her attention back to her task in hand. No blushing, no looking away. His little girl really was growing up. He’d give a year’s pay just to have his arms free for one minute to squeeze her to himself in a bear hug of Olympian might. He did not want to give up his little girl. And yet, he had wanted that same little girl to become just what she was evolving into. Wynter was absolutely right, he realized: grownups did lead lives that were far too complicated.
She was staring at his left cheek. He slowly realized that a trickle of wetness ran down it from the outer corner of his eye. “Nothing, honey,” he said with a forced smile that he hoped looked natural to her. “I guess it’s just a reaction to the relief. I was about to explode.”
Fortunately she accepted his statement. When he was finished she stripped the residual piss out of his cock with two strokes that would have brought the Beast to life if it hadn’t had such a workout for the past two days. She put the urinal on the side table while she adjusted the sheet over him.
“There’s one other thing I need,” he said in a quiet voice, bringing Mother Hen to life. “I really need a special kiss before you go.”
She giggled and gave him a nose-and-lips kiss. But when she drew back, her face had an odd look faintly overlaid on her delicate features. She suspected that something was different, but she was too dedicated to her nursing duties to take time to ask him what. He knew what she would ask when she returned with his pills and furiously searched for an answer.
She emptied and cleaned the urinal, then replaced it below the foot of the bed. “Pain pill or i-bu-pro-fen?” she asked, slowly sounding out the syllables of the word that just would not flow easily off her warm, wet tongue.
“Ibuprofen,” he said with a smile that hid the turmoil in his brain.
While she counted out the pills, compared them to the schedule, and noted the type and time in his records, he remembered his lecture about honesty and trust. He would not lie when she asked.
“They’re not very chewy,” he complained. “They weren’t cooked long enough.”
“Maybe I overcooked them and made them tough,” she retorted as she popped the last one in his mouth and held the straw to his mouth.
He managed to swallow it with a sip of water before they broke up in laughter. She let him drink his fill of water and put then glass on the night stand. After she lowered the bed to a thirty degree angle she turned to him, her face serious.
The phone interrupted. It was Ellen Carter. Wynter offered to let him speak to her, but once again he told her that it was her job to take care of nurse business. He watched her smile explode across her face. Her slender, nude body seemed to swell slightly and glow, but with pride, not embarrassment. He watched her, as if seeing her for the first time. He heard her voice but not her words as she discussed her patient on a nurse-to-nurse basis. He was too busy wondering if he’d been given Wynter as compensation for all the pain he’d had to endure from his frequent injuries.
Then he wondered if all that pain was the compensation he had to give for the privilege of having her. If it was, then he was paying a bargain price, he decided, as she hung up the phone.


Ellen Carter switched off the cordless phone, snuggled into the corner formed by the overstuffed couch’s back and arm, and adjusted the Navajo blanket over her lap and folded legs. She put the phone on the end table and hesitated a moment before picking up her cup of honeyed tea. As she blew on the tea to cool it, she frowned. Just who in the hell was that self-assured, confident adult who had talked to her in Wynter King’s voice?


“Daddy, something’s wrong, isn’t it?” The beautiful blue-green gems, just inches from his own eyes, sat under a bluff weathered with Mother Hen worry.
Richard made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a soft laugh. “Before the phone rang, I’d have said yes. But now I know that I’d have been wrong, and that everything is the way is should be. But first tell me what Ellen said and then I’ll tell you all about it.”
Wynter looked uncertain for a moment, but that passed. She knew he was telling her the truth. She trusted him. Richard saw that trust in her face and felt really, really good about himself. He was the kind of father his child could trust implicitly. He focused on her eyes and waited.
“Nurse Carter said that they expect to have the road clear by two or three tomorrow afternoon. She’s bringing Doctor Taylor with her. He’s going to check your hands to see if he can remove them from the casts, but he said you shouldn’t get your hopes up. She has your right prescription with her, and she said that the pharmacist won’t make that mistake again.”
Richard winced. Ellen Carter was just a couple of years older than he was. Not only was she exceptionally competent and skilled as a nurse, she also was attractive. Oh, sure, she’d never win the Miss America title, but she was a shoo-in for Miss Congeniality, even at her current age. But in less time than an eyeblink she could metamorphose into the Queen of Bitches. Kevin Taylor called her Nurse Jekyll and Ms. Hyde for damned good reason.
Richard had received one of Ellen’s tirades when he had been similarly recuperating at home from an earlier accident. Dragon had actually left Wynter’s side in the family room to check on the commotion, and for the rest of the day Angie, who claimed she’d heard nothing in the kitchen, couldn’t keep from laughing every time she looked at him. After that Richard was the best patient he could possibly be. Deep down he didn’t really believe any of Ellen’s threats, but he was unwilling to test that belief, just in case he was wrong.
“Now,” she said, grasping her pony tail and leaning forward to kiss his nose and lips, “what is or isn’t wrong?”
Richard indicated the side of the bed with a nod. “Have a seat,” he said.


Wynter sat on the edge of the bed and turned, moving her left leg over so that her father could see both her tits and her pussy if he wanted to look at them. He had told her how much he loved looking at them, but now he barely glanced at them. If he wasn’t looking because he still thought that was what was best in the long run, then she’d just have to set her patient straight! She straightened and inhaled deeply, thrusting her tits toward him. She felt warm all over when his eyes dropped to them for a moment.
“That’s better,” she said. When he looked puzzled she explained. “You’ve hardly looked at them since you woke up. I was wondering if you’d stopped liking to look at me.”
Now he looked embarrassed! But his eyes dropped down to her tits and lingered there, looking back and forth from one to the other. And the tip of his tongue licked his lips for just an instant, the way it had the first time she’d let him have a good look. Her tits lifted slightly as her chest swelled with happiness, and she thought she heard him moan. “Don’t forget this,” she said, using her fingers to hold her split—her pussy, she reminded herself yet again—open so he could see her clitty.
“Honey, if I ever come down with Alzheimer’s, I promise you that your pussy will be the last thing I forget,” he said with a touch of horniness in his voice as he looked all around her pussy area.
“Promise?” she asked. She hadn’t played the promise game with him in a long time, but it suddenly seemed grownup instead of childish to her, like some of the games he played with Mother.
“Cross my heart,” he said, looking up at her eyes. “Except I can’t do that now for some reason.” He looked at her casts and then her tits.
Drat! She’d forgotten about that. For an instant she felt childish for not thinking ahead, but then another thought overtook her. A good nurse always helps her patient with things he can’t do for himself.
And a good daughter does the same for her father.
Wynter released her pussy lips and leaned forward, extending a forefinger and using it to trace an “X” on his chest. He looked at her eyes. Tears seemed to be collecting in his. Yes! She was sure of it.
“You wanted to know what was or wasn’t wrong,” he said in a low, quiet voice. When her father used that voice, he was being very serious with her. She sat back and waited for him to get his thoughts together. Nurse Carter said a good nurse always waited for a patient to get his thoughts together when he was about to say something that he was uncomfortable with or that embarrassed him. She began worrying about what was embarrassing him or making him uncomfortable.
He smiled at her, looked at the ceiling for a moment, and then met her eyes. “It’s about being a parent, and you’re going to go through this same moment yourself some day. I don’t know what it’s called, so let’s make up a name for it. Let’s call it, ‘The Moment the Lights Came On.’ Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, wondering what that meant. But a good nurse didn’t rush her patient.
“You’re going to spend years helping your child grow up to be a young woman or a young man. You’re going to do that because that’s your primary purpose as a parent. It’s a job that consumes your very existence day and night, but it’s a labor of love, and you’ll think there can be no greater calling in the whole entire world. Understand?”
“Yes.” She really and truly did. But she still didn’t know where this was going.
“Night and day; day and night. You’re doing all you can to help your child grow up. And then comes the moment that you suddenly know that she really is growing up. The moment you realize she’s becoming a young woman. Oh, sure, you say that you know she’s growing up, but somehow, deep inside, you still think of her as your child. It’s like you are in the dark until, suddenly, and apparently with no warning whatsoever, the lights come on. That’s when, deep inside, what you are thinking changes to what you’ve been saying.”
She nodded, afraid to speak, because she thought her lights were coming on, too, and she thought her voice might break. But then he smiled at her again and made her feel warm all through her body.
“Another lesson Grandpa King tried to get through my thick head. Maybe you’ll be smart enough to understand it before it happens, since you’re now the brains of the family.”
She felt her head lowering. She couldn’t stop it, but she did keep her eyes on his. She put her hand on his leg and rubbed gently, a demonstration of her love for him, like a substitute for a kiss.
“I’m selfish,” he said. “I don’t want to give up my little girl, yet I also want to do my part to make you the best adult woman you can possibly be.”
“Like I felt when Dragon changed from a funny, clumsy puppy into a grownup dog?”
“Yes! Exactly. But, honey, I promise you something: even when you are a hundred years old and I’m older than dirt, somewhere deep inside me, under whatever casts I’ll be wearing then, a part of you is still going to be my little girl, so don’t get mad at me when I act that way, because I’ve already warned you.”
“I won’t get mad. I love you, Daddy,” she said, wanting to throw her arms around him and never let go.
He apparently felt the same way. “Can I have a hug?”


The sun on the snow had been almost blinding when she had stretched along her father’s body and wrapped her arms about him. Now it was almost dark. They’d fallen asleep, and now she needed to go pee as badly as her father had needed it when he last awoke. She didn’t want to give up her warm perch on top of him, but she sure as heck didn’t want to get his bed wet, either.
She carefully crawled off him. Her back hurt just a little from having slept at an angle, but she didn’t care. She had snuggled and held her father, who she loved with all her heart, for almost two hours, and that was worth every twinge she felt.
She lowered herself onto the toilet seat and looked at the mass of black hair and red tongue that had taken his usual guard position in the doorway. “Dragon,” she said, “do you ever think you’d be happier as a puppy again?”
He cocked his head and lashed his tail about.
“That’s what I thought.”
She flushed and then washed her pussy really good with warm water and soap, rinsing carefully so that her father wouldn’t taste soap if he wanted to eat her again. She hoped so. And she had something else she wanted to try before Nurse Carter returned.

Chapter 7

Richard couldn’t suppress a sigh of contentment. He had dozed off with Wynter stretched out atop him and awakened to the smell of lasagna on the bedside table and the feel of her tongue lashing the flaccid Beast in the warm, snug cavern of her mouth. He’d told her that the floppy thing was worn out for the night, but with pure lust in her eyes she’d replied, “Don’t bet the mortgage on it,” one of her mother’s frequent replies whenever she disagreed with something he said.
Based on that, he’d asked for a pain pill instead of ibuprofen, expecting that he would need it before the night was over. He was correct.
Dessert was a multi-course treat. It started with almond praline ice cream. Next came tiny pink nipples on small firm breasts as she knelt with her legs on either side of him and leaned forward. Now he was having the final dessert course. He’d have called it a “fish muffin,” but she’d washed it so clean that it now had just the heady, intoxicating aroma of young girl and clean pussy overlaid with a hint of the flowery perfume of the soap. His mind detoured momentarily and named the course, “Hirsute Angel’s Lips … la Natural Lubrication,” causing an involuntary chuckle.
Naturally, she instantly lifted her body from his, releasing her meat popsicle dessert from her mouth, to stare down between their bodies at his wet face. “Daddy, is something wrong?” Mother Hen asked.
“No, honey,” he said with a grin that echoed in his voice. “You really do need to learn that during sex people make all kinds of odd sounds, laughter, and sometimes even crying. It’s not because something is wrong; it’s because they feel so good that they just can’t control it. Sex is where you stop being rational and start being emotional. Sometimes your brain just does strange things on its own and you can’t control it. Like the time your mother….”
He wasn’t surprised that when he didn’t continue, she asked, “Mother what?”
“Well, I might get in trouble if I tell you,” he said. Oh, sure. As if I wouldn’t_ be in trouble if she could see us like this right now, naked in bed together with Wynter’s spit all over the Beast and pussy juice all over my face._
The old Wynter would have immediately dropped the topic, probably with an apology. This was the new Wynter. With a hint of eagerness she said, “I won’t tell her that you told me. Okay?” She shifted her weight so that she could move her hand to her chest. One finger crossed her heart.
What the hell? “Okay.” He almost added, “If you promise,” but he realized in time that such a qualification would have been an implied insult. She had already promised.
“It was one night when you were two or three years old. She remembered something her tenth grade biology teacher had said in class: ‘red roundworms.’ It wasn’t the least bit funny at the time he’d said it in class, but that night, for reasons she still can’t explain, her mind dragged it out of a storage vault, put it up in flashing neon lights, and wouldn’t turn loose of it. It suddenly became the funniest thing she’d ever heard. She’d have a hysterical laughing fit, and as soon as it was over and I’d try to get back into her, she’d say, ‘Red roundworms!’ and start laughing like a maniac all over again. I finally had to give up for the night.”
Obviously his daughter wasn’t so wrapped up in what they were doing that she wasn’t in full control of her own mental faculties. She had no trouble drawing the accurate conclusion about the impact that had on his damaged vas deferens. “But, Daddy, didn’t that make you hurt,” she released his semi-hard cock and lightly rubbed the left side of his groin, “in here?”
“Well, yeah,” he admitted. “After she went to sleep, I went into the bathroom to masturbate.”
Her voice went deadly serious. “Well, don’t worry, Daddy. I’ll see to it you get off and don’t have to do that tonight!”
“Good,” he said with an eagerness he didn’t feel. “I don’t think I could make it to the bathroom in these casts!” He couldn’t believe that the Beast was responding to his daughter’s hands and mouth and actually erecting again, but he knew another orgasm was beyond question that day He’d be lucky if he could get off again the next day, before Ellen could make it back from town.
From Wynter’s technique it was obvious that cocksucking was something new to her, yet she was so damned good at it! Nursing wasn’t her only natural skill. He thought at first that it might be the slight hesitancy implying innocence that he found so exciting. Then he told himself that he could wonder about that when Ellen returned the next day and he had nothing else to occupy his time. It was then that his mind had taken the detour.
“Honey, I wasn’t finished with dessert. May I please have some more?”
“Only if you promise to eat every bite!” He heard the grin on her unseen face. His eyes were feasting on the smooth, white globes of her ass; the dark pink of her anal pucker; the brighter pink of her “vaginal region” that glistened with his saliva and her own “natural lubrication;” the soft pillows of her outer labia, swollen with desire; the tiny head of her still-erect clitoris peeking at him from within its hood; the narrow, thin inner lips running the short inch from her little clit to the opening of the succulent love tunnel that should have been glowing from its intense inner heat; and the incredibly soft, thin mat of first-growth pussy hair that would all-too-soon be coarse and rough.
“I’ll eat it all, no matter how long it takes,” he promised as she carefully steered her sweet little pussy back into place. “Cross my heart.”
He waited while she reached back to draw an “X” on his chest and then steered her with vocal commands until she was where he wanted her. He kissed the juncture of her thighs with her cunt and with her gorgeous little ass. He kissed her tightly puckered little anus, and the kissed the “‘taint” between her heavenly little holes. As his tongue resumed alternating between plunging into her steaming vagina and licking the length of her love trough, he felt her mouth again close around his erect cock and wondered how the Beast had managed to keep from shrinking as soon as the direct stimulation had ended.
Lost in the excitement of eating her wonderful young pussy, he forgot about the discomfort in his arms and legs and back and hips, except for the times when he involuntarily tried to enfold her in his arms or caress her body. For a while, time ceased.


The force of her girlish, barely restrained laughter vibrated Richard’s stomach as it supported the weight of her upper body. Her lower body was still supported by her knees, but they quivered like they were about to collapse. She managed to gasp, “Stop!” and he pulled his head back to watch her young cunt spasm with her fourth orgasm of the evening.
He wondered what would happen if he were to say, “Red roundworms!” Fortunately, he had enough sense to conclude that sometimes ignorance was the better choice.
The laughter slowly faded to a happy chuckle every ten seconds, accompanied by a vaginal contraction that caused her tiny open cunt to wink at him, as if she were flirting upside-down. He carefully kissed her thighs, being careful not to tickle or startle her, and avoiding her still-sensitive little pussy. He would wait until she had caught her breath before asking if she wanted him to eat her to a fifth cum, desperately hoping that she would say, “Yes.”
Richard loved Angie to the very depths of his being, but if he had to make a choice of having only his wife’s pussy or his daughter for oral sex for the rest of his life, he would choose Wynter without a second thought.
The Beast, of course, had not erupted in her zealous little mouth, but to his amazement, it had stayed hard. No doubt the permanent erection was aided by all the different things she was discovering she could do with it while it was at her complete disposal for a “laboratory exercise.”
She lifted her upper body onto her forearms, shoving her steaming cunt back toward his face. He eagerly thrust out his tongue and pulled his head forward, aiming for the clit that had retracted back into its glistening, wet hood…
…and just missed the target as she straightened her body upright on her knees. One hand flipped her pony tail back into place while the other rubbed her neck for a moment. The firm little globes of her buttocks clenched and dimpled at the sides as she stretched like an awakening cat. His little girl giggled again, then looked over her shoulder at him with the dreamy face of a sexually satisfied woman. The dreamy look stayed, but her eyes widened.
“You look like somebody held your head under the pond!”
He winked at her. “Well, I didn’t have a towel in reach, and it would have been impolite for me to get up and go look for one.”
She carefully turned until she was facing him, legs still astride his body but now on the opposite sides from where they had been, and looked down at him with a mixture of dreamy satisfaction and what was obviously love. She leaned down until her face was just above his. “Daddy, I love you!”
Before he could respond with is love for her she quickly kissed his wet nose and then glued her mouth to his, ignoring the layer of her pussy juice which coated his lips. She kissed him deeply, first attacking his tongue and then withdrawing so that he could chase it with his own. Time again ceased while their tongues chased each other back and forth, accompanied by a duet of grunts that evolved into moans of desperate longing and aching desire.
When she broke the connection she straightened and looked down at him. He gasped for air and looked into her blue-green eyes, sparkling in a face he’d never seen before. It was his eleven-year-old daughter’s face underneath, but it had been overlaid with veneers of that sexually satisfied glow, a look of carnal need (_How can women always manage both at the same time?_ he wondered), and what appeared to be a more mature version of her look of impish deviltry.
“Now you have pussy juice all over your mouth,” he said with a grin, guessing what the new Wynter would do. He was right. Instead of jumping up to fetch a towel or washcloth, her little tongue flew out, wiped down her lips, and disappeared back into that strange grin. She remained there, grinning down at him and not moving. “What?” he asked.
If anything, her grin grew even wider as she began easing backward on her knees.

Chapter 8

Richard’s curiosity grew as Wynter continued to inch backward. When her little pussy was directly over the Beast, she changed direction and began slowly settling until he felt the hot wetness of her slit press down on his semi-erection. As she had done that afternoon, she rocked her hips, tracing a slick, wet path first up and then down the Beast. After that, his cock was no longer “semi” erect, but a blue-steel diamond cutter that could deal out serious damage to an iron bar.
Wanton desire flashed across her face for a moment, but then the grin returned. After a moment he realized she was no longer moving her hips. The stimulation he now felt was from his humping the Beast along her slit. And she was timing the beat. Suddenly she began moving again, moving counter to his motion, and they both moaned in a discordant chorus.
On the seventh beat she closed her eyes, leaned forward slightly, and angled her pussy down. The Beast’s nose popped into her slit and pressed against the tight opening of her burning love tunnel.
Richard froze. “Honey….”
Eyes squeezed shut, Wynter pressed her tight virgin cunt harder against the tip of his dick and wiggled her little ass, trying to force herself down around it. Each thrust was accompanied by a moan of need that included a grunt of frustration.
She stopped pushing and opened her eyes to look at his.
“Honey, no.”
“Daddy, I want to!” she pleaded, leaning forward and planting her hands on the bed between his casts and his body, ready to shove backward with the additional leverage.
Richard knew what he had to say, but he did not want to say it. “But it’s not right. We shouldn’t.”
He watched her eyes stare blankly at him from beneath her twisted forehead. She was so horny that she had difficulty processing the information. After a long moment she asked, “But if we can have oral sex, why can’t we have intercourse?”
“Well….” How the fuck do I answer that one? “Honey, you know we shouldn’t have done that, either. I’m sorry I talked you into it. I shouldn’t have.”
Another blank stare. Then, “You didn’t talk me into it. Remember? You said we both had to want it or we wouldn’t do it, and that’s what happened. And if oral sex is that much better than masturbation, then I want to see how intercourse is. Unless you don’t want me. I thought you did. But if you don’t want me, then I won’t. I just….” The little girl was returning to her voice. Tears started collecting. She broke eye contact and her head dropped. The old Wynter was taking control again and was about to panic.
“It’s not that I don’t want you, Wynter. I do.”
The head came up again and tilted sideways as she frowned in confusion. “Then why don’t we? Since you said you like being the first man to do things with a woman, I thought you’d like to be the first to have intercourse with me, just like you were the first to French kiss me and the first to have oral sex.”
While she was talking she let the Beast’s nose slip from the entrance to her tight little tube. It fell back against his stomach, and she began slowly sliding her clit along it, masturbating with his dick without realizing what she was doing. And, also without realizing it, she was driving his own need up and his resistance down.
But he gave it another try. “Honey, you know that fathers aren’t supposed to have sex with their daughters.”
“Then I’m not your daughter, I’m your nurse.”
“Honey, nurses don’t have sexual contact with their patients.”
He saw the look on her face and wondered, Is there any way I could have handled that worse?
Probably not.
She lay quietly for a minute, her tense body stretched along his, her arms tight around him, and her face in the puddle of her tears on his chest. “Yes,” she sobbed. “But all I wanted to do was be a good nurse to my patient, and a good daughter to my father.” Again her body shook his with its wracking sobs, and he wanted nothing more out of life at that moment than to have his arms free to hold her. The best he could do was rub his cheek on the top of her head.
“Honey, you were—you are—the best nurse I’ve ever had. And no father ever had a better daughter. Not even Grandpa Wolfe—and I don’t mean your Aunt Diane, I mean your mother.”
“But I didn’t…,” another sob interrupted her. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with Mother.”
It was The Moment the Lights Came On.
It wasn’t that she had misunderstood the requirements of her nursing duties. It wasn’t that she’d done something society frowned on. It wasn’t that she felt like a child for making those mistakes or that she was mad at herself for having done so. Her sole concern now that he had explained his thoughts was she had angered her mother with her father.
He rubbed his cheek against her blonde hair again, his nose still picking up the faint balsam scent of her shampoo and conditioner. “You know, honey, that it takes two people to do sex—except for masturbation.”
She seemed to be thinking that over for a moment. “So?”
“So don’t you think you’re being a little selfish trying to hog all the blame for yourself?
She raised her head and looked at him, her beautiful blue eyes rimmed with red and her left cheek soaked with her own tears. “But it’s all my fault! Why would you want to take any blame?”
“For two reasons, honey. One, I’m at fault, too, and you know it. And the other reason is something you haven’t learned yet. You think adults make weird decisions that don’t make sense to you? Wait until you become a parent. You’ll do anything to protect your child, no matter what her age is, when you are partly to blame. You will probably try to protect her even when she’s totally to blame on some occasions. But if you’re partly at fault, then you’ll try to protect her from….”
He frowned in thought, his eyes searching the ceiling for the blatantly obvious concept that kept eluding him. It was flitting about like a moth around a light, just escaping his grasp. And then he looked at her eyes and knew.
“I was wrong. You have learned that, haven’t you? That’s what you’re trying to do for me.”
She sniffed, and a hint of a smile flickered for just an instant. “I’m not your parent.”
“No, you’re my student, and like a good student, you’re teaching your teacher something he wasn’t aware of. And like a good daughter, you’re teaching your father, too.”
“I love you, Daddy.”
“And I love you, too. You know, if we’re going to share blame, your mother gets some, too.” He watched her frown. “She and I both wanted to live up here, isolated and away from civilization. That was good for the two of us, but not for the three of us. Neither she nor I realized that we weren’t doing the right thing by keeping you isolated up here.”
He saw the stricken look flash into place. “Don’t you dare say it!” He was surprised by the harshness of his tone. His body was tense, as if in fight-or-flight mode. He relaxed and gently said, “You are not an imposition on our lifestyle. Life is full of trade-offs, and you opt for the one you want most. You want Dragon more than you want that corner of the back yard where you used to play fairy princess. You gave it up so that he could have a puppy potty.
“Well, your mother and I want you more than we want this ‘fairy castle.’ Our fairy princess is far more important. We knew the night we made you—and that’s exactly what we were trying to do that night—we knew that we wanted you and that we were willing to make any sacrifice necessary to have you.”
She sniffed and nodded understanding.
“If I ever even get a vague impression that you might possibly be thinking that you are an imposition or that you are standing in the way of something we want, I’ll turn you over my knee and spank that incredibly cute, bare little butt of yours. There is nothing in this world that we want more than you. Understand?”
Her head dropped at the compliment, but her eyes stayed on his, and a grin forced itself in to place. “I understand.” Her head lifted and inspiration showed in her reddened eyes. She sniffed again and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Can I fib to you sometimes and say that I’m thinking it?”
Unable to guess where that was going, the teacher braced himself to learn from his student again. “Why?” he asked with a suspicious frown.
She gave him an odd smile, a mixture of love, and devil-imp. “So you’ll have an excuse to look at my butt! I’ll keep my legs open so you can look at my pussy, too.”
Uh oh. The Beast sprang to life with a vengeance, pressing against her joined thighs. She parted them and allowed it to flip into its upright position. Richard felt the still-wet pubic hair framing her slit brush the Beast’s nose. She squeezed her thighs together, trapping it in place. He was amazed that she had the self-control not to start humping. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t as his hips cycled before he could get control.
Devil-imp kept smiling, but love was still visible, too, as she asked. “Daddy, you’re supposed to be completely honest with me if I ask you a question. Right?”
“Right.” He knew where this was going, and he wasn’t sure he could keep it under control.
“I want you to be the first man to have intercourse with me. Cross my heart.” She raised up and used a fingertip to draw an “X” between those small orbs that seemed to crowd everything else out of his vision. “Do you want to be the first man to—um—fuck me?”
He knew the right thing to do was to lie to her, but he couldn’t. She trusted him to be honest. “Next to being out of these casts so I can hold you, I want nothing more than to be the first man to make love to you. There’s a difference.”
She used her hand to wipe her face and sniffed again. “What’s the difference?”
“Fucking is a sport—something you do for fun. Making love is something you do to show how much you care for someone. Sometimes you do one, sometimes you do the other, sometimes you do both at the same time.”
She blinked; then again. “Then I want to make love to you, and I want you to make love to me. It’s what we both want, and if Mother is going to be mad at us for having had oral sex, she can’t be any madder if you make love to me. And you always say it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission.”
Richard did some blinking of his own while she began thigh masturbating not her clitoris but his erect cock. Okay, maybe her clitoris got stimulated, too, but she was definitely affecting his ability to think. Her sudden change of emotion had him wondering if Wynter had actually maneuvered him into this situation, but he quickly abandoned that idea. He had no doubt that she was smart enough to devise that plan, but he also had no doubt that she wouldn’t. It would not be honest. No, it had to be that her hormone factories had gone into overdrive and were flooding that slender, smooth-skin, incredibly sexy little body with a deluge of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Her hormones were in charge. She might be only vaguely aware of what she was actually doing.
Mother Hen had tinged her voice. She was waiting for a reply, and his mind was wandering. He sighed. “There’s going to be a problem getting me in you,” he said.
Wynter nodded. “I know. My hymen. I know it will hurt at first, but I don’t mind.”
Richard chuckled. “No, not that, honey. As grownups would say, your cherry has already been busted.”
She lapsed into panic mode. “Daddy, I haven’t had sex with anyone else! I promise.”
“Yes, honey, I know that,” he said with a grin. “But it’s easy to break it lots of different ways because it’s right at the very entrance into your vagina, and it’s usually very thin. An active girl like you could have done it many different ways, but unless it happened earlier, I think I know how you lost it.”
She stopped squeezing the Beast with her thighs but left it within its warm trap. “How?”
“Remember a few years ago when you were walking down that tree limb and your feet slipped? They went to both sides and you sat down hard?”
“Oh, I couldn’t forget that!” She shuddered, quivering her thighs around his erection. “It hurt for almost a week! So you think I lost my—my cherry then?”
His hips cycled, rubbing the Beast between her smooth thighs. “Unless you’d done something similar and lost it earlier. I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t find one while I was eating you. I remembered thinking two things when you fell: ‘I hope she didn’t inherit my tendency toward accidents,’ and ‘I hope whoever she marries doesn’t expect proof of virginity,’”
She giggled.
“No, the problem is that you might be too tight for me to get in you. I wasn’t able to tell with my fingers, of course, but you did seem awfully tight to my tongue.”
She frowned. “Is there any way to tell if you don’t use your fingers?”
Richard chuckled. “Well, there is one way for sure.”
She gave an exaggerated sigh and shrug. “Works for me,” she said, unable to keep the grin from spreading across her face.

Chapter 9

Wynter thought her father was being too cautious. After all, grownup women had vaginas that normally weren’t much bigger than a hardon, but they stretched enough to let a baby get out through them. But he was just trying to watch out for her the way any good parent would and the way she would protect her children some day. She didn’t want to argue with him because she knew that, and because she was afraid that he might change his mind again.
The inside of her vagina—her pussy—was nice and wet and slick, making it easy for her to slip her own fingers inside and show him how much it stretched. His dick really got hard while he was watching her do that. It got even harder after he had her hold her hands and fingers exactly the same way in front of his face so he could see how much she had stretched. And then he asked to suck the pussy juice off her fingers, and his dick got so hard it raised up from his tummy, and she thought he was going to cum again right then.
She thought he would make love to her then, but he said he wanted to try something else: he wanted to see what size vibrators she could comfortably get in her. That didn’t make sense.
“Daddy, if I can’t get my hand without a vibrator on it in my pussy, I don’t think I can get it in there with a vibrator.” His laugh told her she’d said something stupid again, but she had no idea what.
“This is something different, honey,” he said, looking like he was sorry he had laughed. “I wasn’t laughing at what you said, I was laughing at the picture I saw in my mind. I’m not talking about a Swedish massager. I mean a different kind of vibrator, long and round like a penis, the kind women use to masturbate with. I really doubt that that’s a topic your mother would have discussed with you. Few mothers do.”
“No,” she said, feeling a little less childish for not knowing. “But how are we going to get any with the road closed and….” From his face she realized there was something else her mother hadn’t told her. “Mother has some?” Wynter couldn’t imagine why. She had a husband for sex.
No, Wynter realized. She doesn’t always have Daddy, even when he’s home. Like now. Wynter suddenly felt very sorry for her mother and for what she missed out on when he or she was away, or when he was hurt really bad.
Which was what her father explained to her. And he also said that sometimes Mother used them even when he was with her, because he liked watching her use them on herself, and he liked using them on her as part of playing together. Wynter hadn’t thought about her parents “playing,” and certainly not doing so with sex! Grownups sure did keep a lot of secrets from kids.
He told her what drawer to look in and sent her to fetch them. On the way she let Dragon out and realized she had to go pee, too. She did, then washed her pussy really good for her father and let Dragon back in. A glance at the clock showed her how late it was. It was almost time for his last round of pills. She’d have to give them to him first, so they wouldn’t have to stop making love.
Making love. She liked the sound of that. Fucking is a sport. Well, that sounded pretty good, too. But she was thrilled that her first time at intercourse was to be making love. If she could get her father’s hardon inside her pussy. I really and truly want to get him inside me so I can show him just how much I love him, she thought as she opened the drawer and looked under the underclothes in the back right corner.
She couldn’t stop her eyes from going wide and from gasping. She had no idea any such things existed. Three were different sizes of white plastic tubes tapered to a blunt, round point at one end and flat at the other. One was colored and shaped like a hardon with the foreskin pulled back. The fifth was a cylinder that had a thin piece as long as her finger at the top, where the others had been the same size or slightly larger in diameter than the rest of the tube. The thin piece was rippled, like a stack of jelly beans stacked end-to-end. She couldn’t imagine why it was shaped that way. Surely her mother’s vagina wasn’t tight enough for that to do any good—not after she’d given birth. But when she tested the batteries in each by turning them on the way her father had told her to do, it vibrated, too.
She was so puzzled that she almost forgot to take the squeeze bottle of lubricant.
“Daddy, what’s this?”
Did he turn a little bit red? “Oh. I’d forgotten about that one. That’s—that’s an anal probe.”
“Like for a colonostomy? I mean, co-lon-os-co-py?” she corrected.
“Not exactly, but that’s a good guess. Well, yes, I guess it is, sort of.” He chuckled and then explained.
Wynter frowned. “And that’s fun?” It sure didn’t sound like fun to her. It sounded like a trip to the doctor.
“Some people think so. Different people like different things, honey. Besides, you thought oral sex didn’t sound like much fun, didn’t you?”
“I guess you’re right,” she said, reaching for his pills. She counted out the correct ones and gave them to him with some water.
“They’re still tough.”
Wynter sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to let Dragon do the cooking.”
“I take it back!” he said in mock horror. “I can just imagine what kind of pills Dragon would bring in from outside!”
Wynter felt herself blush as she laughed with him. Drat!
After she noted his medications in the records, she sat on the side of the bed with the vibrators and the lubricant squeeze bottle. “You might need the lube if you aren’t wet enough,” he said, telling her to start with the smallest one. It was a snug fit, but it entered her easily. She was so wet with her natural lubrication from thinking about finally having intercourse—_making love_—that she didn’t need the squeeze bottle of slippery stuff.
She noticed her father’s dick move as she pulled the vibrator out. He said he liked watching Mother use them, she remembered. She also noticed that her horny feeling got worse when she removed the vibrator. She carefully wiped it off with a wet cloth and put it on the rollaway table.
The next size was bigger, but still smaller than her father’s hardon. She went slow and easy, the way her father told her to do, though she wanted to shove it in quickly because the first one had felt so good sliding into her.
“Good girl!” her father said. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” she said, honestly. “But it feels really big. And really good, too!”
“You might want to turn it on and see if it relaxes you inside so you can get the next one in.”
“Okay,” she said warily, turning the base to make the connection. Well, her mother liked oral sex, and Wynter thought that was great. Her mother liked the vibrators, so maybe….
The unit switched on. Wynter screeched for an instant, bringing Dragon to his feet. He looked around and sniffed as he moved to the bedside and sniffed up at her, whimpering in his throat.
“It’s okay, Dragon. I was just caught by surprise. Wow! Daddy, that’s a nice surprise!” She realized she was giggling, but she couldn’t stop.
“Just try to relax inside and then you can move it in and out and around,” he said, with a horniness showing in his eyes as his dick went totally erect. He licked his lips as he looked at the plastic vibrator in her pussy, and that made Wynter happy. She was pleasing her father.
After a minute she started sliding it in and out, just a little bit, to see how that felt. It was as good as when her father ate her pussy. She felt her little clitty swell until it felt like it was going to burst. And that gave her an idea. If she just pulled it out a little more, and then pulled up on the end and pushed her pussy downward….
When the vibrator touched her clitty she exploded in orgasm. It felt wonderful—almost as good as her father’s tongue on that hard little stick. When she regained her senses, he was staring at her pussy and the vibrator stuck in it, humping his dick against the air. Wynter was so very sorry that he couldn’t touch his hardon for relief. She bent down to kiss his aching pole, causing the vibrating plastic to press against her clitty. She came again when her lips touched his hard dick. When she opened her eyes, he was looking into them.
“We might have to get you your own vibrator,” he said.
“It might help when I’m by myself,” she gasped, then giggled. “It doesn’t feel as big now, Daddy, like I loosened up a little. Do you want me to try the other one?”
“Yes, but carefully. It’s a little bit bigger than me. You might need the lube.”
Wynter shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m just so flooded with my natural lubrication. My pussy juice,” she corrected.
She felt empty when she pulled it out of her tight, wet pussy. She wiped it with the wet cloth and picked up the third one. If it went in, then she would be able to take her father’s erect dick. Please, please, please, she thought, let it fit!
Her father talked slowly and gently to her, relaxing her and guiding her through easing the massive piece of plastic into her hot, tight hole. It was a little uncomfortable, but it didn’t hurt as she eased the tip into the mouth of her tender cunny. She twisted it and wiggled it slowly and gently. It began easing into her slender young body. The widest point was about an inch down from the tip. When it went into her, she almost cried with joy. She could take her father!


Wynter positioned the tip of his dick against her overheated hole and began pushing her body downward. “Don’t be in a hurry,” he reminded her for the third time. His dick was slippery in her hands. He’d insisted on her using the lubrication stuff because her pussy juice wouldn’t lubricate his dick the way it had the hard, smooth plastic of the vibrator. The dildo, he’d called it. She thought that was a funny name, but right now she was too happy to laugh. She thought that was strange and told herself to describe that feeling in one of her notebooks. Then she told herself to remember to describe this sensation, too: the very tip of her father’s dick had just entered her pussy, had entered her vagina.
“Take it easy, and stop when it gets uncomfortable. Give yourself time to stretch. I want the first time you make love to be something you always remember because of how good it felt, not how much it hurt during and afterward.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, feeling that warm tingly feeling shoot all throughout her body again. That was even better than cumming. It was the feeling that her father loved her with all his heart and was trying to both protect her and help her feel wonderful at the same time.
Push down slowly. Relax. Push down slowly. Relax.
Her eyes flew wide. “Daddy, I think the head just went in.”
“Yes, it did,” he gasped. “Don’t rush it and ruin it now. Take your time and we’ll be making love in a few minutes.”
She felt the grin on her face and knew she couldn’t remove it for a million bucks. “Daddy, I feel like I’m already making love with you.”
His eyes shot up from watching his throbbing hardon going into her horny little pussy and gazed deeply into hers. “Honey, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a sweeter compliment in my entire life. Thank you very much. I love you.”
Drat! She couldn’t stop her head from dipping again, but she did keep her eyes on his. “I love you, too, with all my heart.” She giggled as something moved down there and shot a thrill through her body. “It feels so big, but good at the same time.”
Her father smiled his warmest smile and moaned softly as she slid down another half-inch onto him. “Honey, I just hope it feels as wonderful to you as it does to me,” he said. “If it hadn’t been for those last two cums, I’d probably be shooting now and ruining it for you.”
She giggled again, unable to control it. “Daddy, the only way you could ruin it would be to tell me to stop. If you did shoot now, I’d just keep you inside me until you got hard again.”
He was looking at his big dick going into her little pussy again, but he broke into the biggest smile. It reminded her of Aunt Diane’s baby Christopher’s smile when she teased him with the rattle. Then she bent her head to look, too.
“That’s all that’s in me?” she said in surprise at the amount of his greased dick that she could still see. “It feels like there’s two feet up there.”
“You’re doing just fine, honey.” He moaned softly. “You may not get all of me in because your pussy probably isn’t deep enough yet. Just keep going slowly until it hits bottom, and don’t try to force any more than that into you.”
“Yes, Daddy.” She tingled throughout again. Her father had to be feeling as good as she did, yet he was still watching out for her, rather than taking the time to enjoy the experience. She wouldn’t disappoint him. She’d be extra careful so that he wouldn’t worry, and when she had all of him inside her that she could get in, she was going to see to it that he had the biggest cum she could possibly give him as a reward for his patience and his love.
Push down slowly. Relax. Push down slowly. Relax. Until….
“Daddy, I don’t think I can get any more in.”
His wide eyes seemed unable to lift from her pussy. “Don’t try. You have almost all of it in you. More than I expected.”
She couldn’t see all that well because it was underneath her, so she felt to see how much was still outside, reaching behind and under her butt so that she wouldn’t block his view. Maybe two inches. She giggled. “I’ll just save the rest for later,” she said.
He made a sad little smile under his happy face. She realized he knew that this would be their only time. Then she saw a faint change, one she’d never be able to describe in her notebook in a hundred million billion years, and she knew that they would make love again. And fuck for sport, too. “I love you, Daddy,” she said softly, with all the love and caring she could put into her voice.
His eyes looked wet, like he was about to cry. He gave her the warmest smile and said in a soft voice, “I love you, too, Wynter.” She hoped he had heard as much love in her voice as she heard in his. “Are you ready, or do you need to relax and stretch a little more?”
She concentrated on her pussy and the huge tube of flesh filling it. She felt it throb, just like it did in her hand, only this time it thrilled her even more, and that started her spring tightening again. “I think I’m as stretched as I can get now.”
He nodded. “Okay. Slowly now for a little bit, until you get the hang of it, lift slightly and then lower back to where you are now. You may want to hurry, but you have to teach yourself to stop before you hurt yourself. We don’t need both of us to be patients!”
She giggled and rubbed one hand on his chest in a caress. “I’ll be careful. We can’t make love or fuck if my pussy gets put in a cast.” Because she was supporting her weight on her knees, the laughter that shook her father’s body caused his dick to jump and shake inside of her. A thrill shot from her pussy through her entire body, and that spring tightened some more. She started raising and lowering her body on him, sending more pleasure waves out from her pussy and causing her to gasp every time she felt him stuffing her pussy full again.
Soon she was lifting until just the head remained inside her body, then lowering down to feel it slowly stretch and fill her. She couldn’t believe that anything could feel better than the vibrator or her father’s tongue in her split—her pussy—but this really and truly did! She concentrated for a few moments on where the limits were to keep him inside her and to keep him from going too deep within her, and then she slowly increased the speed. It made the horny feeling in her overstuffed pussy feel so very much better, but it also made it worse at the same time, causing her to move faster for more relief, on and on in an endless loop.
She heard noises as she slid her stretched little hole up and down around the rigid dick jutting up from her father’s lower body. Because the horny feeling was so overwhelming she needed several moments to realize it was both her father and herself. They were both grunting and moaning and saying, “I love you” and “It feels so good!“ and laughing and crying and making all sorts of sounds at once that she knew wouldn’t make any sense to someone listening through a wall, but made perfect sense to her, being where she was and doing what she was doing, and now she could hear a wet sound coming from her split that was her father’s thingy sliding into her through her natural lubrication as it wound a spring inside her vaginal area tighter and tighter and even still tighter yet even though it couldn’t possibly get any tighter as shemovedfasterandfasterand….
She knew she screamed when the spring exploded, sending shockwaves of almost unbearable pleasure shooting through her body over and over and over and over like it would never end. She couldn’t help it because it felt so wonderful and the strength of it was such a surprise because it was much bigger than any of her other orgasms, and she was vaguely aware that she might have scared her father when she screamed, and she really really really hoped that he wasn’t scared, and that he was feeling as good as she was with their first time making love, and why hadn’t her hips stopped moving, and what was that hot feeling deep inside her, and why was the spring getting tighter again, only it was getting tighter muchmorefasterthistimeand….
She screamed in delight again.

Chapter 10

Richard lay gasping for breath, unable to believe he’d actually cum again. The sight of Wynter convulsing in orgasm had been too much for him, and somewhere he’d found a reserve of cum for her tender young pussy and the energy to shoot it. The Beast finally died then, though rigor mortis had apparently kept it stiff enough for her to work herself almost immediately to a second release.
He wasn’t sure if she’d fallen asleep or fainted, but at least she was stretched along his body in such a way that she was in no danger of rolling off him and falling to the floor. She, too, was gasping for air. A whimper to his left told him Dragon was worried and was checking up on her. “It’s okay, Dragon. She’s okay, boy. Go lie down.”
Okay? She was better than “okay,” she was the most exciting sexual partner he’d ever experienced. He sincerely hoped that she would always remember her first time making love as a wonderful experience. And, now that he thought about it, her first fuck, too. From what she was saying while she humped him, her first orgasm occurred while she was making love, but the second one—that second one was pure, unbridled, no-holds-barred, all-for-me fucking.
He wondered why he felt tears streaming down his cheeks. It was, he realized, because he needed to hold her and couldn’t. The other times he’d just wanted to hold her. This time he needed to hold her, the way he needed oxygen and water, because his life depended on her. Well, by god, he had one free leg.
Carefully, but with urgency born of need, he shifted his body, lifting and twisting his free leg until he was able to capture her left thigh between his foot and his bare right thigh. Something inside the cast on his lower right leg flared in pain, but he didn’t care. He squeezed her to him in the only way he could, trying to ignore the fact that he would eventually have to release her.
Rigor mortis fled the beast then, and it oozed out of her tight, wet, wonderful little cunt with a faint “slish” noise. He wasn’t totally surprised to find fresh tears on his cheeks.


He opened his eyes at the movement. Wynter was sitting up, about to swing one leg back from across his body so that she could get down from the bed.
“Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up, but I was afraid I was making you uncomfortable.”
“Honey, that’s no problem at all. If you aren’t uncomfortable, you don’t have to get down. You can stay right where you are and hold me while we sleep. I’d really love that if it doesn’t keep you from resting.”
She grinned sleepily, a mixture of happiness and sexual satisfaction. “Okay,” she said, masking a yawn with her hand. “I’ll turn off the light.”
“Don’t. Not unless it bothers you. I don’t want you to be away from me that long, even if it is only two feet away and five seconds apart. Unless you need to get up for another reason.”
“Huh uh,” she said. “Daddy, that’s sweet. I don’t want to be away from you, either.” She yawned again. “But don’t you want me to go wash my pussy for you? And wash off your dick?”
“Not unless it bothers you. All I want is to feel you next to me, to go to sleep that way, and to wake up that way.”
She leaned forward for nose-and-lips kisses, freed her hair from its ponytail, and gently eased herself down onto him. She found a position that wasn’t uncomfortable for either and wrapped her arms around him. “G’night, Daddy,” she said with a squeeze.
“Goodnight, honey,” he replied, feeling warm and cozy and wondering why his tears were threatening to break loose again.
She snuggled her cheek against his chest, scooting it around until it was just right. “Thank you for loving me.” And she was asleep.
The tears escaped.


Bacon. Coffee. He lifted his head from the slight—no, steep—incline. Wynter had raised the head of the bed over halfway without waking him. There they were, on the breakfast tray on the rollaway bedside table, where his pills had been counted out. The urinal was on the nightstand and the vibrators weren’t. Wynter had been busy while he slept.
He noticed the faucet in the bathroom just as the water stopped flowing. Seconds later his naked daughter appeared, a smile of afterglow still radiating from her face. She saw him looking at her and stopped. “Drat!” she said with a sudden frown. “I was going to crawl back on top of you and let you wake up with me holding you, like you wanted.”
“Honey, the important thing is that you’re here with me,” he said, sympathizing with her feelings. “I’d much rather wake up here alone and find that you are just over there in the bathroom than wake up in the hospital alone and find you are miles away.”
Her head dropped at that, but her eyes stayed on his and she didn’t blush. “Yeah, but I wanted to make you happy,” she said as she placed a gentle hand on his arm cast and bent to kiss his nose and lips. She gave him a quick daughter-type kiss on the lips and then lowered her head again to invite his tongue into her mouth.
Her mouth was sweet and fresh and tasted of spearmint. He knew how funky his own breath was and kept the kiss short. “I’m sorry my breath is so funky,” he apologized. “I didn’t have time to go brush my teeth for you the way you did for me.”
“I’d rather kiss you with funky breath than not be able to kiss you with fresh breath,” she said with a big, self-satisfied smile, followed by another daughter-peck before she turned for his pills.
He swallowed the last one. “That’s a little better. Did Dragon cook them?”
“No,” she said, a grin threatening to split her face in two. “I cooked them. He just brought them in fresh from the garden.”
“No wonder there was an improvement,” he managed to get out with a straight face before both erupted.
“You probably need this by now,” she said, reaching for the urinal. “No sex! Just urination for now. Your breakfast is getting cold.”
“Yes, Nurse King,” he said without argument. One, the sight of the urinal had caused him to realize that he was about to explode in a hurricane of yellow, and two, he couldn’t get the Beast stiff with a plaster cast this morning.
They talked while she fed the two of them. He listened while she described her joy at having made love with the man she loved most in all the whole entire world and tried to explain how it felt to have him inside her exquisite nubile body. She didn’t know the words to describe some of her feelings. When, at her request, he tried to describe to her was it was like to be the one inside of her, he, too, discovered that he was ignorant of the words required.
Egg yolk dripped onto his chest. “I guess I should have scrambled the eggs,” she said, rising to lick the spot of yellow from his chest while looking at him with devil-imp eyes.
He wondered if she were now devious enough to have planned the dripping yolk from the over-easy eggs. Then free association latched onto “scrambled eggs.” Surely the bouncing she had done with the Beast in her nearly up to her ovaries had scrambled her own. He chuckled, and expected that he would have to explain why he was suddenly laughing at her.
Wynter, however, appeared to think she had tickled him when she licked away the egg.
“Honey,” he asked as she sat down, “is your pussy sore this morning?”
Her face scrunched and her eyes went vacant for a moment, as if she were reading a bank of indicators and gauges inside her head. “No, not really,” she said. “It’s just a little tender.” She grinned slyly. “Why? Are you ready to teach me how to fuck?”
“Another sip of coffee, please? No, you already know how to do that.”
She hesitated as she lifted the insulated coffee mug with the bent straw. “But we didn’t fuck; we made love,” she said.
“The first time, yes,” he agreed. “But the second time you came, it was from fucking. Plain old ordinary, ‘I need my brains screwed out’ fucking, and that was a sight to see. Could you move the straw a little closer to my mouth? My lips aren’t six inches long.”
She blinked as she returned from wherever she’d been and moved the straw to his reach. ”Second time?”
He grunted acknowledgement, and when he swallowed he added, “You came twice, you know.”
“I did?“ Richard understood the phrase “eyes as big as twin full moons” at that moment.
“Oh, yes. Very definitely”
Her eyes unfocused as she replayed the recorded scene in her head. “I guess I did. Oh!” Mother Hen made a sudden appearance. “Daddy, I’m sorry! I totally forgot about you then!”
He made a face. “Do I have to call class back into session again? Wynter?”
Instead of laughing she made a wry smile. “Present.”
“There’s a reason that making love and fucking have different names: they are different activities. Making love is what we did the first time. It’s when two people share love and tenderness with each other through their bodies. Making love is sharing. Fucking is when one or both of the people need sex for its own sake. Fucking is selfish, but that’s okay because it’s supposed to be selfish. You really needed to cum again, and I helped you. Sometimes one partner has a need to fuck and the other has a need to make love. Usually the partner with the need to make love will defer, knowing that they can make love later when the first partner is relaxed and can concentrate on both of them. I call it instant gratification and future satisfaction. Clear so far, my little student?”
“Yes, teacher,” she said, offering him another bite, which he chewed and swallowed.
“Now, a question for the class: can one person make love while the other fucks?”
The silence grew long while she turned the question over in her head. She wasn’t about to repeat the answer he’d given her without first coming to that conclusion on her own. Finally: “Yes. That second time—I was fucking, but you were still making love,” she said with a little smile of triumph on her face.
“But you barely remember there was a second time. How do you know I was making love while you were fucking?
She already knew that answer. As she fed him another bite she said, “Because you were watching me cum. You were sharing my experience instead of being selfish and just paying attention to yourself. You remembered what it was like to watch me. And you also just said that you helped me cum again.”
She bit off a piece of buttered and jellied toast and chewed with a look of silent self-satisfaction.
Richard blinked twice and turned his head toward the door. “Dragon!” The shiny black head sprang up, instantly alert. “It’s official: you are no longer the brains of the family.”


It wasn’t until she was putting the dishes in the dishwasher that he realized she’d brought only one knife and fork.


Wynter was sorry that her father couldn’t get another hardon, but he told her that in a way it was a good thing. He was sure that as much as she was stretched and as hard as she had fucked him—_she_ had fucked him? Well, that made sense if you thought about it—she was probably more than “just a little tender” down there, and if they fucked, or even made love again, she might experience more damage and it might be painful.
“We might have to put your pussy in a cast,” he explained as she finished shaving him, “and then you’d need Doctor Taylor to give you a pussy stretcher.”
She was proud of herself for catching the joke, and the look in his eyes said he was both surprised and proud of her, too.
“But Doctor Richard has a prescription for you, Nurse King.”
She put the razor on the table and crossed her arms under her tits, lifting them slightly and watching his eyes go to them. She lowered her head and looked at him from under the bottom of a frown. “What?”
“Doctor Richard prescribes that you have somebody kiss it and make it feel better.”
She fought to hold back a grin. “Well, I don’t see anyone else here, Doctor Richard, so I guess you’ll just have to treat me yourself.”
He broke into his own wicked grin, and she couldn’t hold back. “Trust me,” he said, “it will be a treat.”


Wynter tried to suck her father’s dick back to an erection, but this time he was right: it was so dead it was beyond rigor mortis. Still, the excitement of having his dick in her mouth again while his tongue did wonderful things to her pussy was enough to cause the spring to wind supertight before it exploded. Her father had told her that there were little cums and big cums and giant super-sized cums. She sure did hope that these were the giant super-sized ones, because if they were just the big ones, she’d never survive anything larger.


Three o’clock. Richard was clean and dressed in a hospital gown rather than the pajamas Angie had wanted him to wear for whatever reason. Lunch was over. The room was clean and smelled lightly of cinnamon air freshener. The sleeping bag was gone. Wynter was dressed for the first time in what seemed like years. Richard watched as she turned a slow circle for his inspection and then asked, “Well?”
“You look beautiful,” he said, “but I think I like your birthday suit better.”
Again her head went down at the compliment, and she seemed to suddenly have trouble keeping her eyes on his again, as if returning to a girl’s loose blouse, knit shorts, white ankle socks, and slippers had returned her to her earlier girl’s mind set. “Thank you,” she whispered, then louder added, “I’ll let you see my birthday suit every chance I get.”
Nose-and-lips daughter-kiss.
“Lover’s kiss?”
He was exploring her mouth for the third time, his eyes closed, when he noticed the salty wetness. He opened his eyes, broke off the kiss, and pulled back into his pillow. She raised her head and released her ponytail, freeing that hand to wipe her wet cheeks. Her other hand continued to smooth his hair.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
She sniffed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m being selfish. You want a nice lover’s kiss to remember, and I’m ruining it.”
He smiled gently. “You’re avoiding the question, honey.”
She sniffed again and chased down another escaping tear. “I’m just getting to know about sex, and now I have to give it up. I know you said we’d find time after Mother returns, but Nurse Carter will still be here then, until you can get out of bed. It’s going to be a long time before I can show you—before we can show each other—how much we love each other.”
“You are wrong, my favorite student who didn’t pay full attention to her lessons. You are very wrong. We may not be able to have any sexual contact for a little while, but you are showing me how much you love me right now. Just like you’ve always done.”
“Yes, but,” she said, pausing to wipe a cheek and her nose again, “I want to show you like a grownup, not like a child.”
“Honey, you’ve missed part of the lesson somewhere, probably because I concentrated too much on the other part. Sex may be a ‘grownup’ way to show love, but non-sex doesn’t mean ‘non-grownup.’ How many different ways do your mother and I show that we love each other without going at it on the kitchen table or living room floor? A kiss on the nose and lips from you is one of the most wonderful things in the world because it shows me you love me. Nobody else loves me that way. Well, except Dragon, sometimes, but it’s definitely not the same.”
Her mouth corners curled upward slightly, and her body trembled once with a silent laugh.
His eyes lifted upward to indicate her right hand. “You pet my hair, you hold my arm through the cast, you smile at me in a way that I’ve never seen you smile at anyone else, you do the best job possible as my nurse, you feed me, you play your flute for me even though you want to shoot me for asking….”
“Daddy! No I don’t!”
“Ah, ah! Don’t fib or I’ll have to turn you over my knee.”
She grinned suddenly. “Want me to take off my shorts and underpants?”
Richard pulled his head deeper into the pillow and looked at the ceiling. “I actually lived long enough to hear Wynter King ask a dumb question!” He brought his eyes to hers in an eloquent leer. “Of course I do! But Ellen and Kevin could walk in any minute now. I’ll make your mother understand, but I could never get them to.”
“Can I do one thing just for you before they get here?”
He lifted one eyebrow. “What?”
She pulled the hem of her blouse up to her armpits and thrust a tiny pink cone at his mouth.


“Nurse King, would you escort me to the door?”
Wynter’s head dropped. “Sure, Doctor Taylor.” She waited until he said his goodbyes. Nurse Carter acted like she was going to come with them, but Doctor Taylor did something with his hand and she changed her mind. Only Dragon accompanied them. Doctor Taylor stopped her in the living room and asked if they could talk for a moment. They sat together on the overstuffed couch.
“First of all,” Doctor Taylor said, looking her straight in the eye the way she saw him talk to Nurse Carter, “you did a very excellent and professional job while Nurse Carter was away. Wait a minute—a nurse doesn’t look away when a doctor compliments her professionalism.” He pointed to his eyes. “You continue to look right here, okay?”
Drat! She had acted like a child when he’d just told her she’d been acting like a responsible grownup. “Okay.”
He broke out in the biggest grin. Doctor Taylor sometimes was grumpy with other people, and sometimes even with kids, but with her he was always the nicest person she’d ever met. Except for her father. And her mother, of course. If she ever had to pick somebody else to be her father, she’d choose Doctor Taylor.
“Now! You did an excellent job with his records. They were neat, orderly, and precise.” He was leaning toward her and tapping his left index finger with his right to indicate his points, the way he discussed patients with nurses and other doctors, and that made her tingle inside. “I had no trouble following them. Those extra comments you made were a perfect touch. I felt like I had been present at the time and observed him myself. Ellen is right: you are a natural nurse.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, using all her willpower to force her head to stay upright.
“Don’t thank me, it’s the truth!” His voice snapped, but she saw the sparkle in his eyes and knew he was playing with her. “I have nothing against nurses, and I know you’ll be the best in the state, if not in the whole country, but you’d make a damned fine doctor, and I really do hope you will consider medical school. Of course, you’ll have to learn to scrawl so nobody can read your writing. But you still have plenty of time to think about it.”
She grinned at him. “Only if you forgive me.”
His eyes grew wide and he drew himself upright on the couch. He jabbed an index finger at her nose. “Never!”
Doctor Taylor always said he’d never forgive her for deciding to be born at home early, during a winter storm that had closed the mountain road, thus depriving him of the honor of being the first person to ever see her. Wynter had thought that he teased other kids that way until Nurse Carter told her that she was the only one.
He bounced his fingertip off her nose and said in a serious tone, “Listen, I’m still worried about Richard’s hands. I let him talk me into leaving his right fingers free and two fingers on his left hand, but you have to be sure that he doesn’t try to do too much with them. Understand?”
Wynter nodded. “I understand. You think it might interfere with his—uh—range of motion?”
Doctor Taylor gave her a warm smile that was the next best thing to one from her father. “Exactly. There’s not much he can do with his arms still in the casts, but he might try and overdo something. Did you hear me say that I’ll take the leg cast off next week if he continues to make the same progress?”
Wynter nodded again. “Yes.” Doctor Taylor always treated her like she was a nurse, but this time there was something different in his voice and manner. She wondered if, just maybe, that was the way he treated other doctors.
“Good.” He rose and offered her a hand in assistance. Doctor Taylor was the person she always thought of when she heard the word, “Gentleman.” She felt guilty that she didn’t think of her father instead, but she couldn’t help herself. He bowed crisply from the waist and said, “Then I shall bid you good day, Nurse and/or Doctor King.”
She threw her arms around him and squeezed.
“Oh, my goodness! My diagnosis was wrong!”
Wynter looked up at him and frowned. She knew he was playing, but she had no idea what the meant. “What diagnosis?”
“I thought you were too grown up to hug.” He dropped down, wrapped his arms around her, and squeezed. It felt almost as good as a hug from Daddy and Mother and Grandpa King and a lot better than one from Aunt Diane or Uncle Bob. When he rose again he said, “You keep on taking good care of our patient.” And then he was gone.


The low voices from her father’s sick room sounded angry as she approached the door. The fur between Dragon’s shoulders suddenly bristled at the tone. Nurse Carter had her back to the door as Wynter entered the room. Her father was lying back and looking at the ceiling.
“Daddy? Nurse Carter? Is something wrong?”
“Something is very wrong, Wynter,” Nurse Carter said, slowly turning to face her. “Your father can’t seem to explain these.” She held out her hands. One hand held the smallest vibrator. Pinched between the thumb and forefinger of the other hand were three short, thin, cornsilk curls.

Part Three: Mother’s Little Helper

Chapter 1

The low voices from her father’s sick room sounded angry as she approached the door. The fur between Dragon’s shoulders suddenly bristled at the tone. Nurse Carter had her back to the door as Wynter entered the room. Her father was lying back and looking at the ceiling.
“Daddy? Nurse Carter? Is something wrong?”
“Something is very wrong, Wynter,” Nurse Carter said, slowly turning to face her. “Your father can’t seem to explain these.” She held out her hands. One hand held the smallest vibrator. Pinched between the thumb and forefinger of the other hand were three short, thin, cornsilk curls.


Panic swept across Wynter’s elfin features. “Where… where… where…?” she stammered as she flushed scarlet in embarrassment.
Nurse Ellen Carter held the smallest vibrator forward. “I saw the tip of this sticking out between the nightstand and the wall. It wasn’t there when I left because I had cleaned this room thoroughly, and there were no dildos in here when I finished.”
Dildos. Wynter added that to the list of words to put in her “Sex Terminology” notebook while she tried to remember how the vibrator could have become stuck behind the nightstand. She had moved them from the rollaway table to the night stand. Later she was picking them up to return them to her mother’s dresser drawer. Dragon, who’d just had a drink from his doggie bowl, stuck his cold, wet nose to her naked butt. She jumped and dropped them. She thought the noise would awaken her sleeping father, but he was more unconscious than asleep. Drat! She had been chastising—a grownup sounding word that she really liked—Dragon while she picked up the vibrators again and had failed to pay attention to the details like a good nurse would do.
Nurse Carter pulled back the vibrator and pushed forward the blonde pubic hair. “I found two of these under your father’s neck and one under his leg. I see you got around while I was gone.”
Wynter’s father looked blurry through her streaming tears. His upper body was lying at a forty-five degree angle. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling and he looked very, very upset. She knew he was mad at himself because she had wanted to change his sheets before Nurse Carter returned, but he asked her not to. He was blaming himself for something that was all her fault. A good nurse would have done what was best for her patient, not what he wanted because it was less work for her.
Her father had wanted the oral sex, and the intercourse, too. She loved him, and she wanted to show him through the oral sex and intercourse that she loved him. And she had also wanted the sexual activities. But it wasn’t what was best for her patient, or for her father, in the long run. A good nurse and a grownup would have done what was best for the patient in the long run, but she had acted like a spoiled, thoughtless child interested only in what was best for herself at the time.
Nurse Carter’s voice rose and got much angrier and her face turned very red as she shook the hair in Wynter’s face. “Jesus, I thought he was in the good hands of a responsible nurse, not the hands of a little slut!”
Wynter felt the Labrador retriever’s body pressing against the front of her legs. It vibrated with his growl, a deep, rumbling noise that caused Nurse Carter to step back and almost fall onto the bed.
“Ellen,” her father said in a quiet voice that still sounded very angry, “if your attitude doesn’t change immediately, Dragon will eat your face, and even Wynter won’t be able to stop him.” Then his voice softened and his eyes looked at Wynter with love that made her heart ache for the trouble she had stupidly caused him. “Wynter, honey, take Dragon into the den. Please close the door on your way out. Everything will be okay, I promise. I’m going to have a little chat with Nurse Carter, and she won’t want to be disturbed until it’s over. Please?”
She nodded and wiped her flooded eyes with the back of her right hand while her left closed around Dragon’s collar.
“I love you, honey….”
Nurse Carter glared down at him over her shoulder and cut him off. “Is that how you talked her into your perverted….”
“Ellen!“ he shouted, startling her into silence. Dragon began growling again, louder this time, and Wynter felt him pull forward a little. Then in a soft, almost gentle voice her father said, “Wynter, release his collar.”
She did. Dragon didn’t move and continued his low, rumbling growl. Through her tears Wynter saw the blurred white streak of his teeth.
Her father fixed the nurse with a hard stare. “Now, Ellen, I don’t know with absolute certainly that he will attack if you raise your voice at me again, but do you know with absolute certainly that he won’t? You know as well as I do that he will attack if you raise it at Wynter again.”
Nurse Carter seemed to collapse inward, like a party balloon that was losing air.
“Honey, everything’s going to be just fine. Nurse Carter doesn’t want you to hear what I’m about to tell her, so please go wait in the den with Dragon. She’ll be along to apologize to you in a little while. You can have some cookies and milk if you want them. Not too many this close to supper.”
She nodded and tried to say, “I love you,” but her voice broke.
Her father gave her that big warm smile that made her heart feel much too big for her body. “I love you, too, honey. We won’t be long.”
She nodded again, wiped her eyes, and took Dragon’s collar. Any other time he would have followed her out the door, but she wasn’t sure whether he would do so now. He went out the door with her, but his eyes never left Nurse Carter and his low growl did not stop until Wynter closed the door.
Wynter held her long blonde ponytail in one hand and threw herself face down on the couch in the den, trying to control the huge sobs that shook her body. How could she have been so childish and caused such a huge problem for her father, who loved her with all his heart, when all she wanted for him was to be the best grownup nurse possible? How could he still love her if she were such a huge disappointment? And how much more trouble would she cause him when Nurse Carter told Mother?


Dragon whimpered and sniffed his little human, looking for clues that would explain her condition in terms his canine mind could understand. When he found none, he licked the hand covering her cheek, looked over his shoulder to the hallway door, and growled softly.

Chapter 2

“Just what the fuck do you mean telling her that I’ll ‘be along to apologize in a few minutes?’ I’m not the one….”
“Ellen,” Richard said in a gentle tone, “Dragon can hear you from the den, and I can guarantee you that door won’t stop him if he wants in.” Actually, only the first half of that statement was true. He couldn’t guarantee that the hollow-core door wouldn’t stop Dragon, but he would not bet money that it could. “Wynter could hear you if she weren’t crying her eyes out, probably face down on the couch. You know how emotionally shaky she is because of puberty. Your attitude isn’t helping one goddamned bit, and I won’t allow it to upset her any further.”
“You….” She glanced at the closed door and forced her volume control down, but in her fury construed his gentle tone as meekness. ”You won’t allow it? I won’t allow you to abuse that girl any further, you child-molesting son of a bitch! I ought to call Larry White to come put you under house arrest and get Wynter to safety until Angie gets back here. What the fuck were you thinking, using her to get you off? If the pain in your damaged vas deferens was that bad, you should have told me and I’d have gotten you off.”
His grin, as if of triumph, took her aback, and she wondered if he had divined her innermost thoughts.
“Do you know who recommended you to be my nurse during these at-home recuperations?”
“Yeah,” she snapped. “Kevin Taylor. What….”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Kevin merely said you’d be a good choice when I asked him about you.”
“What does that….”
“Tommy Rosenbaum recommended you.”
“Who?” Then she gaped. “You know Tom Rosenbaum from Pittsburgh?”
“We were on the same committee for the Geological Society several years back. I’d been to his house a few times before the divorce, and once or twice after. But I didn’t say ‘Tom,’ I said, ‘Tommy.’”
The color left Ellen’s face and her arms fell to her sides. The strands of Wynter’s pubic hair drifted to the floor. “T…—Tommy? Oh, Jesus.”
“Tommy. Doctor Rosenbaum. He was—what? Sixteen? Fifteen the first time? The father and the son for over two years?”
“Tommy told you? And…. Oh, Jesus. And Tom told you about us?”
“You look like you’d better sit down,” he said and waited for her to do so after she put the small vibrator on the night stand. “No, Tom didn’t tell me the details of his divorce other than he’d been caught with another woman. Tommy finally told me who when he recommended you for my home nurse. He said that his father couldn’t have been in better hands, but that I should watch out because you had dependency issues. He said that it cost you your own marriage as well, and that you’d tried to convince Tom to marry you. He said you left Pittsburgh as the price to keep Tom from filing a professional complaint and charges against you.
“Tommy knew about my injury and said that if I ever needed you to relieve the pressure, that you wouldn’t be satisfied with providing just a handjob, and that things would slowly spiral out of control. He apparently did a couple of papers on you while earning his psychology degree. He also said you were the ‘greatest piece of ass’ he’d ever had, although that was a personal opinion rather than a professional one.”
Ellen Carter’s pasty-white face slowly reddened, this time with embarrassment.
“I never planned to tell you I knew, but, Ellen, two things I can’t stand are hypocrites and somebody threatening my family, and a threat to my marriage is a threat to my family. Naturally I haven’t told anyone else. In a small town, a secret like that won’t stay secret for a year, and it would be a lot harder for you to hide the facts if you were forced to leave here than it was when you were forced to leave Pittsburgh.”
She twisted her hands together in her lap. “So, if I promise to keep my mouth shut and just leave quietly, you won’t tell anyone about my past? You’ll trade your silence for mine?”
She stiffened, and Richard was struck by the similarity between her face and Wynter’s during one of his daughter’s panic attacks.
“I don’t want you to leave. You’ve overcome your past, and you’ve established a good practice here, both as a private nurse and at the hospital. People admire you, respect you, and depend on you. And I hear that Dusty Hughes has taken a fancy to you. I have only a few conditions besides the trading of silence. Are you interested?”
She sighed as if the weight of the world had been lowered onto her shoulders. “Do I have a choice?”
“You always have choices, Ellen. However, you have only one good one.”


Dragon was standing and facing the door when Ellen entered the room. She had stopped just inside the door, waiting to see what the dog would do. He wasn’t snarling or growling, but his muscles were tensed and his eyes were fixed on hers. It was a challenge, and she responded by lowering her eyes from his.
“Wynter?” she asked again. “Don’t cry. I—I came to apologize.”
Wynter sniffed and lifted her face from the couch cushion long enough to sob, “You aren’t the one who was bad.”
“Yes, I was. Wynter, you made a mistake, but so did I, a long time ago. I am still mad at myself about that, and I took it out on you. That was another mistake I made. Richard reminded me that we can overcome our mistakes and continue to be good people. Wynter, I said some mean things to you and your father, things that I, of all people, had no right to say. I am truly sorry that I said them, and I hope that you can forgive me. If you can’t, then I understand, and I won’t blame you. But I do hope that some day you will be able to, and that we can be friends again.”
Her head came up again. “I…” [sniff] “I can forgive you. I’m not…” [sniff]”…a hypocrite.”
Tears suddenly streamed down both of Ellen’s cheeks. “Thank God for that. One of us is already too many.”
Wynter suddenly bolted upright, startling Dragon. “Daddy! He’s all by himself,” she said, brushing away tears and wiping her running nose.
“He’ll be okay for a little while,” Ellen said. “Can we sit together and talk?”
“But Daddy might need us.”
“Right now he needs us to be friends again more than he needs anything else.” She began easing toward the couch, avoiding any sudden movements and watching for any sign of displeasure from Dragon. “He explained a couple of your questions to me and said he’d like me to help answer them for you, if you don’t mind.”


Dragon watched for any threatening sign as the tall human female sat beside his short one. They held each other and made sad noises. He didn’t understand why they did this, but he did sense that no threat to his human remained. Dragon watched and listened, trying to comprehend, unaware that the expression on his face was very similar to that shown by his human male when he, too, was trying to comprehend females.

Chapter 3

Richard shook his head. “You two are a mess.”
Ellen and Wynter looked at each other’s red eyes and tear-stained clothing. “I guess we are,” Ellen admitted. A lot of tears and mucus had flowed for almost two hours. “Would you like for us to call in the other nurse?”
“What other nurse?”
She looked down as Dragon brushed past her legs. “Here he is.”
Richard laughed. “I don’t think he can hold the urinal steady.”
Mother Hen worry appeared on Wynter’s face and she sprang into action, retrieving the container from its storage place under the foot of the bed. Then she hesitated and offered it to Ellen, who shook her head.
“You can handle it,” she said. Richard laughed again, and she realized what she had just said. She rolled her eyes. “Jesus. I mean, it’s your job. You do it for him.” This time both Richard and Wynter laughed. “Oh, to hell with it! I’m going to clean up.” She turned and headed down the hall to her room.
Wynter looked at him with twin blue-green pools in a sea of red beneath a brow furrowed in concern. “Do I have time to raise the bed the rest of the way?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head, “but I do have time for a quick kiss.” He hummed contentedly as she gave him a kiss on the end of his nose and a quick daughter-like kiss on the lips. “That’s better,” he sighed as she pulled down the sheet and raised his hospital gown. “So do you and Ellen have things worked out now?”
“I guess,” she said as she began working the flat pillow under his buttocks. “She said she was sorry and, Daddy, I think she really meant it.”
“She did, honey. She was surprised and reacted before she had time to sit down and think. I gave her time to do that.”
Wynter paused to glance at his face before resuming her task. “I think you did more than just let her sit and think.”
Richard grinned. She was burning with curiosity. Obviously Ellen hadn’t told her everything, but she wasn’t about to pry. She was giving him the opportunity to volunteer information. It was one of the devices her mother used. “Well, sometimes people need a gentle nudge in the right direction when they aren’t sure what they should think about. And speaking of gentle, that was the first time my leg didn’t hurt when you put the pillow under me.”
She broke into a wide, happy grin that warmed his heart. “Maybe you’re finally healing.”
“Or maybe you’re getting to be an even better nurse.”
The smile faded, and she ducked her head before threading the head of his dick into the urinal. He saw a faint tinge of red spread across her face, one that he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been watching for it. She had regressed back into the little girl who didn’t know how to handle a compliment. So much progress these past two days and now a setback. He’d spent enough time in hospitals and home sick beds to know that setbacks were temporary. Still, it almost broke his heart to see his daughter slipping back into the little girl who, just one day earlier, he had wanted her to remain. Ellen’s next task would be to explain to Wynter how a lady accepts a compliment from a gentleman. He wasn’t going to wait until Angie returned to begin teaching Wynter how to interact with other people, one of many things she’d know by now if he and Angie hadn’t insisted on this isolated lifestyle without giving thought to their daughter’s needs.
Her question brought him back to the real world. “What, honey?”
“I asked if you were finished. You stopped almost a minute ago.”
A minute? Yes, the pressure in his bladder was gone. “I’m sorry, honey. Yes, I’m done. I guess my mind went on a trip and left my body behind.”
She stripped the remaining piss from the Beast in two pulls that would have it hardening if it weren’t exhausted from the number of times she’d brought him to orgasm the past two days. “Did it go visit a nice place?”
“I’m not sure where it went.” He glanced at the snow melting in the spring sunshine outside the window. “Maybe it went looking for some spring flowers because it was tired of all the snow.”
She gave him an odd look and frowned for an instant. “What kind of flowers?”
“Probably columbines,” he said, watching her grin spread when he mentioned her favorite blossom. “Maybe some other flowers, too, like in that glade down by the pond.”
“Maybe you’ll see some soon,” she said. “I’ll go empty this and be right back for the pillow.”
“Would Nurse King do her patient a favor when she returns?”
“Sure. What?”
Richard wiggled his newly-freed fingers. “Could you bring back a washcloth and some soap? My fingers feel like they’ve been in a mine sump for a month.”
Richard smiled as she hurried as fast as she dared into the bathroom. Nothing like a little occupational therapy, especially when it benefitted the patient as well as the nurse. He wanted—needed—to talk to her about their relationship and the guilt he knew she had placed on herself, but she wasn’t emotionally ready. Plenty of time for that after she had slept on it. One thing he had learned after hours, days, weeks at a time in hospital beds was patience, even if he didn’t like it.


Richard pressed the channel selector again and found himself back where he’d started. “Damn,” he muttered, then selected a news program for background noise.
Wynter had placed the remote control on top of three large, thick books and adjusted the suspension of his right cast until he could reach the channel, volume, and on/off switches. After giving him a quick kiss she cornered Ellen in the hall, spoke with her in whispers for a moment, and then disappeared into her room to clean up. She hadn’t emerged or even opened the door after the shower stopped. Now Ellen was in the kitchen preparing supper.
For the first time, Richard felt lonely in his room. He didn’t realize how much he’d grown accustomed to Wynter’s constant presence. He didn’t mind solitude. He occasionally welcomed it. The unceasing presence of someone else, even his wife, occasionally wore on his nerves, but that wasn’t the case with Wynter. Her invariable worrying every time he hiccuped or sneezed might become a minor irritation, but not her presence. Even a visit from Dragon would be welcome, but the black Lab would never leave the room with Wynter in it unless he had to. Richard sighed and tried to become interested in the latest Middle East flare-up.
“Richard, do you need anything before we eat?”
He hadn’t heard Ellen’s approach. Maybe he’d dozed off. “No, I’m fine.”
She nodded and knocked on Wynter’s door. There was a pause before Wynter invited her in. Richard wondered if his daughter had been practicing “solitary sexual techniques,” or some similar adult-sounding term. He found himself wishing he could have been there to watch.
“I’m almost finished,” Wynter said. Ellen’s body blocked his view of her desk, but he suspected there was nothing to see on it.
“Ten more minutes?”
“Okay.” When Ellen turned to leave, Wynter smiled at him from her doorway. “I love you, Daddy.”
That cheered him up. “I love you too, honey.”
Her door closed. Five minutes later it opened. She flashed him a bright smile, all coral lips and teeth as sparkling white as her pullover blouse, low-rise socks and tennis shoes. She blew him a kiss before disappearing toward the main part of the house with her four-legged shadow in tow. When she reappeared she was carrying one of his metal rulers, a razor knife, and something else in the pocket of her pink jersey shorts. She blew him another kiss before closing the door.
Most un-Wynter-like. She was obviously up to something, but what? He amused himself by trying to guess.


Wynter was smoothing down the last piece of tape when Nurse Carter knocked on the door again. “Wynter, it’s time to eat.”
“I just finished. I’ll be right there.”
She heard Nurse Carter say something to her father, but didn’t hear his reply. She stood back and looked at her work. “I dunno, Dragon. What do you think?” she asked picking it up and showing it to him. He sniffed it and looked up with his head cocked to one side and his ears alert. She called it his “curious pose”.
“I supposed it will have to do,” she said, holding her blonde ponytail with her left hand at shoulder level and pinching her lower lip with her right, “but I wish I could have done better for Daddy. Maybe if I wrap it, he might like it better. What do you think?” He perked his ears, and she assumed that meant, “Yes.”
Nurse Carter was placing the tray on the rollaway table when Wynter opened the door. “If you and Wynter don’t mind, I’d like to bring mine in here and eat with you tonight.”
Both Wynter and her father said they’d love to have her join them. Nurse Carter was about to return to the kitchen when she saw the flat, wrapped packet in Wynter’s hand. “Do I get to stay for the unveiling, or would you rather be alone with your father?” she asked with a smile.
“You can stay. If it’s okay with Daddy, I mean.” When her father agreed, Wynter handed the flat package, wrapped in silvery foil paper and sporting a big yellow bow, to Nurse Carter. “You can unwrap it for him,” she said.
Nurse Carter held the present where he could see the bow and the wrapping paper. Wynter always kept a roll or two of wrapping paper and some bows in her room for presents that she gave to her parents and sometimes to special visitors like Doctor Taylor. She had placed her father’s present face-down against a piece of cardboard to protect it. Nurse Carter held the present so that her father could see it first and slid the cardboard away at his nod.
She watched her father for his reaction, her fingers crossed and a worried frown on her face. He stared at it for a moment and tears began collecting in his eyes. “Oh, my god,” he whispered so softly she almost didn’t hear it, and then he shook his head.
Drat! She just knew it wasn’t good enough and that he wouldn’t like it, and she was right! She should have taken more time with it, but she wanted to give it to him right away. And now, instead of making him happy, she had made him sad. She had been a child again.


Richard understood the gesture. Allowing Ellen Carter to unwrap his present for him was Wynter’s way of saying that all was right between the two of them. He admired the way the present was wrapped. His very best efforts rarely equaled Little Miss Perfection’s worst efforts, which were usually when she was wrapping something for Aunt Diane or Uncle Bob.
Ellen held the piece of cardboard before him and asked, “Ready?”
“Go,” he whispered in anticipation, and she slid the cardboard away.
Wynter had used woodgrain-patterned posterboard to make a frame around an eight-by-ten, intricately detailed, colored-pencil drawing of the pond, looking down from the northside hill. The field of wildflowers lay to the west, but in the foreground she’d added a patch of columbines. The scene was breathtaking. Angie had accidentally seen a sketch of Dragon in front of a waterfall in a notebook that Wynter had left open, and she had told Richard that Wynter had shown talent, but he had no idea that his daughter was this talented. He felt tears puddle on his lower eyelids.
“Oh, my god,” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief and continuing to study the detail. He tried to look at Ellen but couldn’t. “Ellen, this is incredible.”
Ellen Carter turned the picture slightly and leaned sideways to look. “Jesus!” she whispered in a voice as awestruck as his own must have sounded.
“Honey, how long have you been working on this?”
“I started after I got out of the shower. I’m sorry it’s not any better.”
The tremble in her voice caused him to drag his eyes away from the drawing for the first time. “Sorry for what? You did all of this, in this much detail, in just a couple of hours?”
She sniffed. “I can do it over. I’ll take my time ‘n’ do it better for you. I was in a big hurry to give you some flowers to look at, ‘n’ didn’t have time to do a really good drawing.”
“Didn’t….” He glanced up at the nurse, who hadn’t moved. “Give us some room, please?”
Ellen straightened and moved aside without shifting her eyes. “Jesus!” she whispered again.
Head down, Wynter moved beside him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.
“Honey, if you tell me you can do a better version of that drawing, then I believe you, but I really, honestly, truly don’t see how you could improve it.”
She sniffed again and kept her eyes down. “I could put more detail in the background trees ‘n’ the mountains ‘n stuff, ‘n’ the water in the pond’s not quite right.” Before he could interrupt her she added, “‘n’ I could put Mother in the picture for you.”
Richard gaped at his daughter. “You can draw people, too?”
“Uh huh,” she said in a small voice. “They take longer to make them look right, though. They’re harder than Dragon.”
“Ellen, you sound like a revival meeting.”
Ellen Carter looked at him for a second and then focused on Wynter. “Did you overlap the frame pieces before you cut the miters for the corners?”
Wynter turned to face Ellen, her thin blonde brows pulling together. “You can do that?”
Ellen shook her head. “Yeah, I thought so. Here. Look at these,” she said, turning the picture toward Richard and pointing at the corners. “Freehand! Wynter, I know only two surgeons who can make cuts that precise. You make the rest of them look like amateur butchers.”
Wynter flushed a bright red, lowered her head, and stared at the floor.
Ellen glanced at Richard, who mouthed, “We need to talk about that,” and indicated Wynter with his head. She nodded.
“Let’s put it where I can see it. We’ll figure out where while we eat. And thank you very much for my flowers and for loving me enough to draw them for me.”
Her head came up and she gave him an almost pleading look. “You really like them?”
“Honey, they are the fourth most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Honest.” He frowned, twisted and looked down at Dragon, looked at the picture, and looked back to his daughter. “Maybe third.”
She exhaled pent-up breath, then giggled and threw her arms around his neck, strangling him with a huge hug. Then she pulled back enough to give him a big kiss. He felt the tip of her sweet tongue on his lips and gently, briefly, caressed it with his own. When she pulled back her face glowed with delight. “Oh, Daddy, I was so afraid you wouldn’t like it because of the mistakes.”
Richard heard Ellen stifle a laugh, but ignored her. “Honey, maybe you can see mistakes in it, but I can’t. I can’t draw good enough. How long have you been able to draw like that?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. Four or five years, I guess.”
“And in all this time you never let Mother or me know?”
She shrugged again and looked down at her left hand resting, from habit, on his arm cast. She slid her hand down to grasp the two exposed fingers. “I didn’t want to show you until I was good enough,” she said in a low voice. “You wanted to see some flowers to make you feel better, so I thought maybe I could help, but I wasn’t sure they’d be good enough for you. But, it was what you said you wanted, so I took a chance.”
“Jesus,” Ellen murmured again as she examined another area of the drawing.
Richard threw her a quick glance. “Amen.”


Ellen Carter sat in one of the padded chairs reading a book. Richard half-watched a science program and half-watched Wynter. She had scooted down in the overstuffed chair adjacent to the door. Her feet rested on the front edge of the seat cushion, and her left hand pinned a drawing pad to the easel formed by her long, slender legs. Her face was screwed into a mask of concentration that occasionally flickered an eyebrow or mouth corner or eyelid as her hand guided a number two pencil across the paper. Sprawled across the floor at her feet, Dragon began twitching his paws as he chased a rabbit or perhaps a squirrel. Or perhaps he raced across the fields with his little blonde human. The flower drawing was on the wall over her head, on the wall opposite the window so that he didn’t have to see the snow while he was looking at the springtime meadow.
Ellen lowered the book and looked at her watch. “It’s bedtime, young nurse.”
“Three and a half more minutes,” Wynter mumbled. Ellen raised her eyebrows at Richard and looked at her watch again.
Three minutes and twenty seconds later Wynter lowered the pencil, relaxed, and sighed. “It’s probably not very good ‘cause I did it from memory.”
She couldn’t get out of the chair without awakening Dragon, which was the reason the dog had chosen that spot. She poked his ribs with a toe and he jumped to his feet. While he shook everything back into place, Wynter rose and showed Richard the drawing of her mother.
Richard blinked in surprise. “Honey, that’s incredible. Show Ellen.”
“Jesus! You know, Wynter, if you can’t make any money as a nurse, you could always moonlight as a police sketch artist or a bank note forger. She looks like she should speak to me.”
“Well,” Wynter said, pointing to a spot, “right here I….”
Ellen gently pushed the girl’s slender arm down. “Wynter, maybe you see mistakes, but you don’t have to point them out to everyone. Let other people enjoy what you’ve done. I look at that, and I feel as if your mom is right here in the room with me. It helps me forget that she’s half of two continents and a whole ocean away, and I’m sure it helps your father forget that, too.”
“Yes, it does,” he agreed, switching off the television.
“But when you point out your mistakes, it keeps people from enjoying the feelings you inspired. You put a lot of effort into creating something people can enjoy. Let us do so, please? And when you point out mistakes that only a museum art critic might notice, you make those of us with no talent, and whose mistakes would probably include putting both eyes on the same side of her nose, even more jealous of your talent.”
Ellen smiled to take the sting out of her words. “Perfection as a goal is admirable, but it’s a goal you can’t achieve. Not consistently, anyway. And certainly not in the medical field, where you will have far too many problems, far too few resources, and far too little time. And even with something like this,” she indicated the drawing with a sweep of her hand, “you do the best you can in the time allocated. Don’t be concerned with the fact that it wasn’t perfect; be concerned that it’s better than what you did before within the same amount of time. Understand?”
Wynter was looking at her bare feet. “I guess so,” she mumbled.
“You’ll find that out when you become a mother, and you’ll realize you’ve….” Her mouth worked without sound for a moment, and then she sighed. “Well, it’s not so much that you did your parents an injustice as it is that you didn’t do them a favor.”
Mother Hen worry settled on her face as her eyes rose to meet the older nurse’s. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, your job as a parent is to raise your child to be an adult. The measures of progress are the development of your child’s new skills, her first time to roll over, her first time to sit up, her first steps for instance, and how her skills improve—first time to take two steps without falling, then three steps, then four and so on. But when you go from having a child who, as far as you know, has no drawing talent to having one who is Leonardette da Vinci in one afternoon, you realize you’ve missed out on watching her improve and in sharing the joy of her successes with her.” She shrugged. “I guess you could say it’s rather selfish.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Richard wince. She understood as much as he did the impact that would have on Wynter, but it needed to be explained to her in those terms, and neither of her parents could, or would, do so. As an “outsider,” she could phrase the situation in the necessary terms. His silent nod of thanks assured her that he understood.
“Now: recuperating patients, growing girls, and old women need their rest.” She looked at Dragon. “And he looks like eighteen hours of sleep weren’t enough.” She hugged Wynter, stood, and said, “I’ll be in my room if you need me, but I won’t be the least bit surprised if you don’t, Nurse King. You give him his bedtime medications. Good night, Richard.”
She pulled the door shut on her way out.

Chapter 4

Richard heard Ellen moving about. He glanced at the clock. She was an early riser and must have been up for at least an hour. She was also overdue with his morning pills by about fifteen minutes. She wouldn’t wait much longer. He suspected that was the reason he had heard her.
He nuzzled his chin across the top of the blonde head lying on his chest. After the anticipated and drawn-out apologies for being selfish and not sharing her talent with him, she had asked if she could sleep in his room. It was his little girl who had asked, and there was no “sexual activity” as she would call it. She had offered to bring in her sleeping bag, but he knew she needed the physical contact. They had both needed it, and he again became her mattress.
He rubbed her head with his chin again. “Morning, honey.”
She seemed to take a moment to realize where she was, then lifted her head and gave him a heartwarming, if still sleepy, smile. “It’s your fault,” she said.
“What’s my fault?”
She yawned. “I was having nice dreams because I felt safe and loved. It’s your fault.”
“Good. How about a kiss?”
She frowned. “I have dragon breath.”
“Then I’ll keep my eyes open so I’ll know it’s you and not him.”
She gave him her ritual kisses, one on the end of his nose and another on his lips. “Good thing I kept my eyes open, too,” she said with a grin.
Dragon shook himself awake, stood by the door, and whimpered. Wynter gasped. “I forgot to let him out before bedtime!” She pushed herself up and carefully crawled off the bed. For a moment Richard had a flash down her neckline of two tiny pink cones atop soft white swells, and he felt the Beast twitch.
“Go let him out first. He needs to go worse than I do. I’ll still be here when you return, I promise.”
She made a face at him. “Smarty pants!”
He laughed and watched her follow Dragon out the door.
“Morning, Nurse Carter,” echoed down the hallway.
“Good morning, Nurse King. Has the patient had his morning meds yet?”
“Not yet. I gotta let Dragon out now.”
Ellen was chuckling when she turned the corner into his room. They exchanged greetings, and Ellen counted out his pills. Her voice turned somber. “I caused her to regress, didn’t I?”
Richard shrugged. “Maybe. But maybe having to be an adult pushed her too far forward too fast and she’s just returning to normal.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I guess. But not because of the sex. It’s because I was finally coming to terms with the fact that my little girl won’t be that same little girl forever. Pain pill instead of the ibuprofen. I was her bed last night and there’s some increased pain in my arms.”
Ellen gave him a curious smile. “Medically I should warn you that that’s not a good idea, but you’ve already discovered that for yourself. And I doubt it would do any good.”
“None whatsoever.” He watched her write the medications in his records. “Do you regret not having children?”
The question surprised her. Richard rarely asked personal questions. She hesitated before finishing her notes. She put the records down before answering. “I have many children. They just have other parents is all.”
He nodded. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
She poured his water. “It’s okay because I’m going to. Do you think you can keep this a secret from Angie?”
“No. I’ll have to tell her, somehow.”
“Will you tell her I know?”
“Not unless she specifically asks. I won’t lie to her.”
She started popping pills into his mouth. “But you’d cheat on her with your own daughter,” she said in a quiet voice.
He stared at her for a moment and nodded at the water. Ellen held the straw for him and added, “I’m not being judgmental, Richard. Really. I’m just trying to understand.”
Richard swallowed and released the straw. “Do you understand why you screwed both Tom and Tommy?”
“No. Oh, I’ve rationalized it a dozen different ways, but….” She shook her head. “No. I guess I hoped your answer would answer my own questions for me.”
“We make a hell of a pair, don’t we?”
“Huh! I’ll get the urinal out for Wynter so you don’t have to wait.”
“You’re going to pass on the opportunity to handle it yourself?” he asked in feigned shock.
She winked. “She’s doing well enough that I think I can take a night off and handle Dusty’s.”
“Must be terrible having to settle for second best.”
She gave him a wry grin. “Well, I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve not had the—pleasure—to make the comparison.”
They were still laughing at bad jokes and double entendres when Wynter returned.


Ellen paused at the door to give her substitute last minute instructions. Wynter had one more question.
“What are you and Dusty gonna do tonight?”
Ellen stared at the face grinning up at her. The previous questions had come from an eleven-year-old girl. The voice tone and facial expression for this one was from a thirty-year-old. She wondered if Wynter had any idea of how she changed personalities.
“Oh, I dunno,” she replied. “Probably the same thing you and your dad are going to do. If that’s any of your business. I was teasing,” she added when she saw the stricken look. “Wynter, wait to see if you really have offended someone before you start feeling guilty. Boys aren’t the only ones who play rough. If you’re going to survive medical school or nursing school, you have to learn to play rough, too. Give them a reason to respect you, and they will. Or give them a reason not to and they’ll run roughshod over you.”
Wynter frowned. “Why? That doesn’t sound very nice.”
“We’ll talk about that when I get back tomorrow. For now, let’s just say that people respect you if you can stand up for yourself. If you show signs of weakness, then they think you might not be deserving of respect. Medicine is a tough field. You have to be tough to survive. Maybe they are just weeding out those who can’t make it before they can become a burden to others. Now: don’t forget what I said….”
As she tramped through the melting snow to where she’d left her car, Ellen couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of Wynter.


Wynter looked down at her sleeping father. He looked so very uncomfortable suspended that way, but some of his fingers were now free. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but any was a welcome one. She held her blonde ponytail to her shoulder and bent to gently kiss his forehead. Then she shooed Dragon ahead of her and retrieved a notebook and pencil from her room. While she positioned herself in the overstuffed chair by the door, Dragon again established a blocking position at her feet and dozed off.
When she decided the drawing was to her satisfaction, she stuck the pencil behind her right ear, snagging it in her drawn-back hair to keep it in place. She guessed it was okay, though if she had another couple of days, it could be a whole lot better. She used the back of her right hand to cover a yawn while she again checked the drawing. She lowered the notebook…
…and looked into her father’s sparkling green eyes. “Daddy! How long have you been awake?” Mother Hen almost stood up on Dragon. He jumped and shuffled aside to shake, giving her room to rush the two steps to her father’s side.
“Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.” He had the most amazing look on his face, sort of like when he saw her flowers picture. “I was just watching you and thinking about how much I love you and how lucky I am to have such a special daughter.”
Her eyes dropped to his cast and she blushed. She was furious with herself because she didn’t know why she’d done that. Doctor Taylor and Nurse Carter had told her about looking people in the eye, but here she was acting like a child again.
Her father knew. She had regressed that much. Some of his little girl he was almost happy to have back, but he would give that part up if she’d just learn how to handle a compliment and remember it.
Then Mother Hen returned. “Do you need anything?”
“I certainly do. I need a kiss.”
She gave him the best nose-and-lips kiss she could manage so that he would know she loved him with all her heart.
He smiled at her and made that heart feel too big for her chest again. But then he said, “Dragon breath’s that bad, huh?”
For a moment she wondered, and then realized. “Oh. I didn’t know if you’d want me to, you know….” She couldn’t stop her voice from trailing off. She pushed the words to the tip of her tongue, but they would go no further.
He settled back into his pillow. “Honey, I don’t want you to do anything that will make you uncomfortable. You know that.”
She tried to think of the words for what she wanted to say. She was having trouble with them, and she grew angry with herself for acting childish. Her father gave her a look almost of sympathy and asked, “Can I see the picture, or is it private because it’s in one of your notebooks?”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s private for us,” she said, opening the notebook to the place marked by her finger. She almost said, “It’s not very good because I didn’t have much time,” but she remembered what Nurse Carter had said. Instead, she turned the book so he could see the page.
They were sitting on the big flat rock by the creek. Both were dangling their feet in the water. They were holding playing cards. Dragon was curled beside her and sniffing at a butterfly floating just above his head. Dragon was wearing his collar, which was more than the humans were wearing. She had captured every one of her father’s scars. She had debated about whether to include them, but they were who he was, and she didn’t want him to think she was ashamed of them.
“That’s incredible,” he said. The awe in his voice made her heart swell up in her chest again. “It looks like we were playing strip poker.”
“Uh huh.”
“And we both lost.”
She lowered the notebook to frown at him. “No! We both won!”
He smiled suddenly. “I like that. We both won. Can I see it some more, please?”
He looked at it for several seconds and made happy sounds while she waited for him to notice. “Wait a minute. If we were playing strip poker, where are our clothes?”
She grinned and pointed. “Right there. You were wearing that lei of wild flowers, and I was wearing this one of columbines.”
His smile grew wider, and he winked at her. “We were walking around naked?”
“Nooo,” she said, trying to sound like Nurse Carter patiently explaining things to someone slow. “You were wearing that lei of flowers, and I was wearing this one.”
He made big round eyes and nodded slowly. “Oh! I see. I thought you were drawing naked pictures of your father.”
She couldn’t stop the blush, and she knew that he guessed the truth from that.
“Oh,” he said, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to pry. Your mother and I both agree that whatever you put in your notebooks is personal, like a diary, and none of our business. It’s not our place to ask. I’ll forget that I said anything.”
She hesitated, wondering what she should do, and then said, “It’s okay. I can show you some of them.”
“Wynter,” he said, giving her his most serious look that told her what he was saying was something he really and truly meant, “I would love to see any of your pictures that you have drawn, but you don’t have to show any of them to me if you don’t want to. Okay, honey? I don’t want you to think you have to do that just to make me happy or to keep me from getting mad. That would be blackmail, and I love you too much to blackmail you.”
“I know,” she said, and she really and truly did know.
“Good. But before I look at them, may I have the urinal first?”
She sighed deeply and put her notebook on the nightstand. “I guess you’d better. I’d be awfully upset if you exploded and got the pages all wet.”

Chapter 5

Richard shook his head in wonder. “When did you have time to draw these?”
“Mostly while you were asleep. You aren’t mad at me, are you?”
Amazing, he thought. One sentence she sounds like a thirty-year-old woman, the next she sounds like a six-year-old kid caught raiding the cookie jar.
“Of course I’m not mad at you, honey. I told you that what you put in your notebooks was your personal business and wasn’t my concern. I can’t then complain about what you put in there.” He looked at the current page and added, “Though you might not want your mother to see these. Not until I’ve explained to her.”
She nodded. “I know,” she said in a soft voice.
He shook his head slowly. The picture of a naked Wynter straddling his hips, her head thrown back in orgasm while he himself was cumming obviously inside her was enough to stir the Beast, and he felt it move under the sheet and his hospital gown.
“Is that really what I look like when I cum?” he asked.
She nodded but said nothing, eyes wide like a deer’s caught in headlights.
“I’m surprised you and your mother let me anywhere near you! But your face is exactly how you look. How did you know how to draw yourself?
She gave him the look of patience that women had been using on men for the past few hundred thousand years. “Daddy! There are mirrors in all the bathrooms, my dresser, that dresser over there….”
“You masturbated while watching yourself in the mirror?”
The adult Wynter returned. “No, silly! I wouldn’t have seen anything! I had to remember what it felt like and then act it out while peeking through my eyelids.”
“Can I see the one before it again?” In the straddling picture he’d been in his hospital bed, arms and legs suspended. She turned back to the one of them in a field of columbines. She was on her knees and he was taking her from behind, doggie style, the way he had described it to her. “Is this a wish for when I’m better?” he asked. Then he realized what he’d said and hastily added, “Of course, you don’t have to answer that. That’s prying. If you pretend I never said anything, I’ll understand.”
She held the notebook in her right hand and ran her left down the cast to grasp his two exposed fingers. “Thank you for not wanting to pry.”
He nodded.
“It’s a wish.” A smile washed across her lips. “I wish you could be well and not ever be hurt again, and that we could be in a warm field with flowers and naked together, and that we could make love forever and ever and ever and never get in trouble for it.” A tear escaped and trickled slowly down her left cheek. “But if we do it together again, Mother will hate both of us, won’t she?”
He squeezed her hand with his fingers. “No, she won’t hate us. But she’ll be upset until she understands.”
“I love you. With all my heart.”
“I love you with all my heart, too, honey.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, her soft coral lips parting and her warm, pink tongue sliding into his mouth in a lover’s kiss. The Beast, sufficiently recovered from the workout she’d given it while they were isolated, roared to life and tented the sheet.


A pillow propped up Richard’s head so he could see on the flat bed. Wynter was impaled on the Beast, thrusting herself toward her third release. Her first was a new treat for them. She’d allowed him to eat her pussy to the point of orgasm and then had moved so that he could finish her with the fingers of his right hand. It hadn’t been a fully satisfying cum because Mother Hen had been worried about hurting him, so she immediately returned to his face, locked her hands behind his head, and humped that hot, wet, aching little slit on his tongue and lips until she came violently.
She laughed and giggled as she came down from the second orgasmic high, her forehead resting on the wall above the headboard and that sweet, lightly-haired set of lower lips hovering above his face where he could watch her spasms trail off to nothing. After resting for a minute she slowly moved down until her slit was over the Beast. She brushed it lightly with her soft, short, blonde curls and then slid her sopping slick slit along it. Richard fought cumming outside of her.
She leaned forward. Twin blue-green pools of intertwined love and lust looked deep into his eyes. Her lips crushed his, and her tongue tasted her own juices on them as it sought his, invited it into her mouth, and playfully tried to keep it out when it accepted her invitation. Her head snapped back as if it were released by a catapult, and her face momentarily contorted as she moaned. Her eyes returned to his, and she grinned wickedly. “I’m gonna make you cum as big as you made me do it,” she announced, and again glued her lips to his.
Entry was a little easier this time, though whether it was from the stretching from her first intercourse or the effect of the juices flooding her tunnel was anybody’s guess. She was still very tight around the Beast and it required all his effort to avoid spewing while sliding into her. She began slowly, then increased her pace slightly. Once she’d mentally established the rhythm and the length of her strokes she began slipping the head of his cock almost out of her tight little love tube, hesitating, and then sliding down around it, allowing him to force her pussy open. She began inhaling on the up stroke, holding her breath on the down stroke, and releasing it in a soft explosive sigh at the bottom. It was the most erotic thing Richard had ever heard.
Her blue-green eyes unfocussed for a few moments. She returned to focus and looked deep into his green ones. She paused to squeeze the Beast within her tight young twat while at the bottom of a stroke, then resumed pistoning. “Does that feel good?”
“Incredible! Where did you learn that?”
“Girls have their secrets.”
He blinked in surprise. “Ellen told you?”
“Would you be mad if she did?” A hint of worry had crept into the playful tone.
“Mad? I’m going to give her a pay raise!”
Wynter giggled and did it again.
“Honey, I can’t hold it back,” he gasped and then released his load in a wave of indescribable pleasure as she tried to maintain a pound-and-squeeze rhythm on his bucking hips. When he finally relaxed and opened his eyes, she started giggling. “What?”
“I think I’m ready to ride the bucking broncos at Frontier Days now!”
He tried to force the concern he felt through his dreamy facial expression, but it wouldn’t appear. “Did I hurt you?”
“Unh uh,” she said shaking her head. “I was worried about you, though.”
“Are my arms and legs still attached?”
She looked. “Yep.”
“Then I guess I’m okay, too.”
She squeezed his limp dick with her pussy, and it shot out of her, allowing a little more slimy jism to dribble into the lake of it she was sitting in.
“Drat!” she said with a pout. “I wanted to keep you in me.”
“Well, that happens. Tell you what,” he said with a conspiratorial grin. “I’ll let you put me back in you later, after I get a little rest. Okay?”
She used her fingertip to cross his heart for him, then dipped it between her legs and brought it between the small, round, pink-capped orbs rising from her own slender chest. “I promise to let you,” she said, tracing an “x” with their mixed juices, “any time you want to, now and forever.”

Chapter 6

Wynter knocked gently on the door frame. “May I come in?”
Her father’s eyes jumped from the television screen to her face. He smiled his biggest, warmest smile, the one that always made her heart feel like it would explode from her chest like that yucky creature in Alien, except it wanted to explode in joy, not pain. He put down the handgrip exercisers, reached for the remote control, and turned off the television. “My nurse is always welcome in here.” He brought the head of the bed from forty-five degrees to full upright and held his arms open to her. “You don’t have to ask.”
“I don’t think you and Mother would have liked me walking in without asking last night,” she said with a giggle as she snuggled her face against his neck. She pulled back and gave him her biggest smirk. “Would you?”
For a second he looked almost embarrassed. “We thought you were asleep.”
“Unh uh,” she grunted as his hands kneaded her back through her knit top. “I was doing what Mother was doing, except I had to imagine you and use my fingers.” She sighed deeply and looked very put upon. “It’s not as good.”
She saw the reaction in his eyes as he realized he wasn’t feeling a training bra strap. She giggled. “Mother went for a walk. I thought,” she said, straightening and reaching for the hem of her top, “that you might like to exercise your hands with these.” She lifted the bottom of her blouse above her small titties and twisted slightly to let him have a good view of the pink cones on them.
The delighted grin on his face made her feel wonderful all the way down to her toes and back up again. He took the soft, pale orbs in his hands and gently squeezed. “I can’t squeeze these as hard as I can the exercisers,” he said in mock complaint.
“No, but these will be gentler to your hands. Doctor King prescribes you use them for a while.”
He raised an eyebrow. ”Doctor King?”
“Uh huh. I think I want to go to medical school.” She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly as he massaged her small breasts. She giggled when he tweaked her nipples to open her eyes and gave her a stern look.
“So that’s why you and Kevin disappear together every time he shows up. He’s been giving you a sales pitch! And here I thought you were just sneaking off to have sex together.”
She giggled again, then leaned forward to give him a nose-and-lips kiss. She backed away for a second and then, as the horny feeling between her legs grew unbearable, she glued his mouth to his and invited his tongue in to play. She moaned in anticipation as his big hand slid down to cup her butt and squeeze it, then continued down to the leg of her pink knit shorts. His fingertips slid under the shorts, and two wiggled their way under the leg opening of her panties. The flats of the nails of those fingers slid around the front of her leg to the short cornsilk curls and then moved downward. His fingers shifted position and the fingertips came to rest on the fat little pads on either side of her split.
She shifted her feet further apart to give him better access. Her split made a wet sound as his fingers pulled it open. Then his ring finger entered her panties and held her split apart so that his middle finger could stroke first through the puddle of liquid at the entrance to her vagina and then across the hard little stick of her clitty. She moaned and sighed around his invading tongue.
He withdrew his tongue and pulled his head back to focus on her face. “I get the feeling your fingers weren’t enough last night.”
“Unh uh.” She could hear in her voice the desperation she felt in her pussy. “It’s been two weeks, and I got really horny during my period last week. It hasn’t gotten any better since. Please, Daddy, I know we can’t make love, but can you get me off with your fingers? Please?”
She knew she was begging like a child, but she was so horny, so desperate for relief, that she couldn’t help it. She had cum four times the night before, and it had barely helped.
His fingertip began vibrating her clitty. Relief mixed with need shot through her from that spot. His fingertip dipped slightly into her desperate cunt, gathering more pussy juice and causing a new sensation as he stretched her open slightly. His finger returned to attack the ache in her clitty. The clockspring in her pussy began tightening. As if it were attached to strings reaching to her face, the tightening spring pulled her face into a scowl and then a pucker as it kept winding tighter and tighter andtighterandtighterand….
She tried really hard not to make any noise when she came, just the way she had done the night before, but the feeling was too good, especially when he stopped rubbing her clitty directly and slid his finger inside her throbbing pussy at the height of her climax. The fingers on the fat little pads on either side of her split continued to squeeze-stroke her. A strangled groan escaped from her throat, and she thought it might have been loud, but she wasn’t sure. Her ears stopped working while the spasms shook her body.
As she came down she gasped, “Daddy, I love you!” She gasped twice more before she could add, “With all my heart.”
His heartfelt smile made his face glow. “I love you with all my heart, too, honey.” His fingertip traced the “X” over his heart.
She gasped as her breathing slowed, never taking her eyes off his face, searching it and finding only love for her written all over it. It made her whole slender body tingle more than the orgasm did. “Want me to do you?” she asked with a mischievous grin.
“We don’t have time,” he said, and he looked really and truly disappointed when he said it. But he left his finger inside her.
“Daddy, haven’t you told Mother yet?”
He shook his head. “I’ve dropped plenty of hints. One of the best ways to handle your mother is to give her information she needs to work out answers for herself. If her mind has subconsciously prepared itself for what you’re going to tell her, then it’s easier to break news to her.”
“And you think that will work this time?” she asked, squeezing his finger with her cunny muscles.
“Well, I certainly hope….”
The slamming door rocked the house.
Her father removed his fingers from her pussy and her panties and sucked them clean.
Wynter jerked down the hem of her blouse and smoothed her clothing into place, then dropped into the overstuffed chair by the door as footsteps stomped through the house and down the hall. A scared feeling made a cold knot in the pit of her stomach, and she looked to her father for courage.
He looked from the door to her and mouthed, more than he said in a soft voice, “I don’t think that’s Ellen back for a visit.”
Five feet, five inches of red-faced fury stopped in the doorway. Angie’s shoulder-length, light-brown hair was tied back with a blue bandanna. A white-knuckled left fist gripped her walking stick. Her .38-Special wavered in her right as she gasped for air. Her face was wet with sweat. She’d obviously been running. She glanced down at Wynter and then snarled at Richard. “You son of a bitch!”

Chapter 7

Richard gave Wynter his warmest, most reassuring smile. “Wynter, would you excuse us, please? Your mother wants to talk.”
Angie’s furious gaze swept down to Wynter and caused her to cringe back into the chair. “Wait a minute. Wynter, did he molest you?”
Tears brimmed in the twin blue-green pools. “M—m—molest me?”
“Did he,” she indicated Richard with the gun barrel, “force himself on you and molest you? Fondle you? Coerce you into fondling him?”
“Angie, put the gun away. You’re scaring her.”
“Answer me!”
Tears exploded as Wynter cringed and folded her legs up into the chair and along her body. She wrapped her arms around them and tried to make herself as small as possible. “Mommy, it wasn’t Daddy’s fault, it was all mine. He couldn’t make me do anything. He was hurt and in the bed all the time,” she cried through tears.
Angie turned her fury back to Richard. “You’ve got her taking the blame for you,” she spat.
His voice stayed calm, rational, and gentle. “Put the gun in the holster, Angie. You aren’t Patsy Ramsey or Lorena Bobbitt, and you aren’t going to hurt either of us.”
Angie focused on the revolver as if she were seeing it for the first time. She tucked it in the holster and fastened the safety strap while snarling at him.
“Angie, it’s not her fault, it’s ours.”
“Oh! So you can’t accept your responsibility without shifting some of the blame onto her?”
“Not Wynter’s and mine ours. Yours and mine ours.” He smiled at Wynter. “Honey, you can go now. It’s okay. Mother and I just need to talk. All right?”
She looked at him, her eyes dumping tears. “Okay.” She looked up at Angie as she started unfolding. “Mommy, don’t hurt him, please? [sniff] I love you both. I don’t want you to hurt him. [sniff] Please?”
Angie tore her eyes from her husband to look down at her daughter. Some of the fire faded. “I won’t hurt him,” she said. Wynter’s face said she wasn’t convinced.
Richard had an idea. “Honey, would you do me a favor?”
“Uh huh. [sniff] What?” She rose to her feet and turned to face him. She looked ready to bolt into his arms but was too frightened to do so.
“You know that cedar tree that you said looks like it has a big scary thing crawling out of it? Would you take a drawing pad out there and draw me a picture of the thing? Not the tree as it is, but with the scary thing crawling out?”
She sniffed, looking from him to her mother and back. “Okay.” She was being run outside and she knew it, but she went along with it because he’d asked for a favor. “Colored pencils or black and white?” she asked, sniffing again and brushing tears away.
“I think black and white might look scarier. Don’t you, dear?” When Angie didn’t respond, he stared at her and indicated with a nod in Wynter’s direction that she should say something.
“Yes. Yes, that would be better.”
“‘Kay. I love you, Daddy. I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you, honey.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart.”
Angie watched Wynter retrieve a pad and pencil from her room and then trudge down the hall with her shadow in slow pursuit. She turned to glare at Richard. “What….”
He held up a finger to silence her and pointed in the general direction of Wynter with it. “Sit down, please” he said in a gentle voice. “Wait until she’s outside.”
The closing kitchen door was barely audible in the silence. He preempted the opening attack. “We failed her, Angie.”
“We? Richard…”
“We. Both of us. Here. In this place. With this house. This location.”
She shook her head. “This is the house we wanted. We both wanted to live here.”
“Yes, we did. But we made that decision before we made her. We never looked to see if that decision was still the right one after she was born.”
Her left fist clenched around the walking stick. She brought it horizontal across her knees and grabbed it in her right fist. “You’re trying to change the subject. You’d hinted at moving before. Were you planning all along to use that to distract me when I found out?”
“Wynter’s being deprived by being out here all alone with us.”
“Deprived?“ Angie shook her head in bewilderment. “She has trees and flowers and nature and low crime and…”
“And no interaction with other people, especially people her own age. She’s being raised like a miniature grownup, not like a kid.”
“So you used her like she was an adult to get off. What the…”
“Angie, do you know how much she knows about sex?”
“Obviously a hell of a lot more than she knew when I left. Just how much did you teach her?”
“Honey, please! One argument at a time. Do you know how much she knew when you left?”
“Well, of course I do, for piss’ sake. I’m the one who had the mother-daughter talk with her.”
“Exactly.” He leaned back and lowered the upper half of the bed slightly from full upright.
His complacent grin of triumph confused her. He had obviously scored a point, but why? What was the point of the point? She had been married to him too long. She knew not to ignore that look. This was something he’d been awaiting and was prepared to handle.
He adjusted the pillow behind his head. “Ever notice how she handles a compliment?”
“She sometimes gets a little embarrassed, but what the hell does that….”
“It’s all related. And it’s not ‘sometimes.’ She always gets embarrassed unless it’s a teasing compliment. Always. Or did until Ellen and Kevin explained to her how to handle….”
“What? Ellen and Kevin? For piss’ sake, Richard! That’s our job.”
“Yes,” he said in a soft voice. “That’s our job. But when we don’t do our job, she has to go elsewhere to learn. And how do kids normally learn things they don’t learn from their parents? They learn them from other people, especially other kids. But she doesn’t have other kids around to learn from most of the time.”
“Richard, you’re crazy! There’s Kenny Taylor, Suzie Middleton…”
“Suzie! Glad you brought her up.”
Angie frowned at his grin, beginning to realize that she was being steered into setups.
“Kids learn a lot about sex from other kids. They listen to conflicting information, seek a general pattern, and assume that what most of the people say is probably what’s right. Only she doesn’t have any kids but Suzie to listen to, and Suzie doesn’t always have answers. The ones she does have are frequently wrong, or at least incomplete. Not that having more kids to talk to would guarantee she’d get the right information.
“She didn’t know what being horny was, or why she felt that need. She didn’t know that she could masturbate to relieve the feeling, and she didn’t know how to masturbate once she learned it would help.
“Do you know what else she asked me? ‘Why would some boy in college want to eat my pussy?’ She honestly didn’t know.”
Angie’s knuckles turned whiter as she squeezed her walking staff. Richard supposed it was a proxy for his neck. “Well, number two, I suppose you showed her why, and number one, why would she ask that question in the first place?”
“I explained the answer the second time she asked it, though I was hoping she’d save it to ask you. And you’re missing the significance of her question. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t understand what a sexual relationship is all about.”
Angie rolled her head back and stared at the ceiling. “Oh! Well!” She glared at him and added, “Isn’t she lucky that you are able to show her! I thought we were protecting her.”
She shook her head, wondering which part he was agreeing with, and suddenly realized he’d awarded himself another point. She was still being steered. “What?”
Richard shook his head. “We thought we were protecting her, but in reality we were preparing her to be a victim of the first slick-talking sonofabitch that realizes he has a naive winner on his hands.”
“That would be you,” she said with a sneer.
“Honey, you keep trying to start a new argument before we’ve finished with the old one,” he said with a smile that did nothing to reduce her anger. “How do kids normally find out what the other half of humanity looks like?”
“Well, books and ….”
“No,” he interrupted. “How do Dick and Jane really find out what the other half looks like?”
She stared at him for a second, and then slumped a little when she realized what his response would be. “They play ‘doctor,’ and ‘show and tell,’” she said in a normal voice.
“Exactly!” He ignored her wince. “They go to Alice DeClerk and Eddie Thomas.”
I should have never told him about Eddie, she realized, years too late.
“But Wynter doesn’t have that opportunity to do so because we wanted to live here in isolation. You can’t raise a child in isolation or you’ll raise a social misfit who doesn’t know how to act around her peers and who doesn’t know how, or when, to protect herself.”
“But I’ve told her how to protect herself from everyone. From everyone except you because I never thought….”
“Angie.” It seemed strange to hear that patient tone directed from himself to her for a change. “That’s the problem. You told her. She’s far too trusting.”
“Are we back to the new argument now?”
He ignored that. “If you don’t say, ‘I’m a bad guy,’ she’ll take anything you tell her at face value. She needs to have Little Billy and Little Johnny take advantage with something minor, or Bill and John will take advantage of her big time. About the only person she doesn’t trust is Uncle Bob after all the promises he’s broken over the years.”
“So: you’re telling me you took advantage of her with something minor—I’d say you took major advantage of a minor—to protect her later on?”
She released her breath in an explosive sigh. He’d stretched the word out and ended it on a higher note, his way of saying she wasn’t seeing the obvious. “Then for piss’ sake, what are you saying?”
He sighed. “First that she’s been pushed too far too fast. She wants to be older than she is. That’s not unusual for kids, but she takes it to an extreme and feels that anything she does that isn’t adult in its execution is cause for alarm. Not concern: alarm. You’ve seen those panic attacks the same as I have. And you’ve seen the way her personality shifts wildly about. You’re back to being ‘Mommy’ after a year of being ‘Mother.’ Also, she understands that sex is an adult way to express love and feelings, but she doesn’t understand that no sex doesn’t mean non-adult. Second, I’m saying that she’s not had a proper opportunity to satisfy her curiosity. She was deeply embarrassed to assist me with the urinal, but once she discovered why the catheter had been removed….”
“Did Ellen tell her that?”
“No. She asked and I didn’t lie to her. I won’t lie to her. She discovered that semen buildup was painful and, well, you know Wynter when she thinks anyone or anything is in pain.”
“And of course you didn’t try hard enough to talk her out of relieving your condition.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Angie blinked. She wasn’t expecting that. Like all men, Richard refused to fight fair.
“Eventually her curiosity got the better of her, and I didn’t try hard enough then, either.”
“For piss’ sake, Richard! Why didn’t you have Ellen jack you off, then? Couldn’t you wait until she returned?”
“I was prepared to wait longer than that, actually. I couldn’t let her, though I might have given in within a few days.”
“Oh! Well, yeah! You couldn’t let Ellen but….”
“Angie, do you know why she left Pittsburgh?”
“No, but….”
“I do. I’m sorry that can’t tell you, but, trust me, I couldn’t let her handjob me because I didn’t want to risk losing you.”
“And just what makes you think you aren’t risking losing me because you substituted Wynter for Ellen?”
“Faith in you. In your common sense.”
That also caught her off guard. Her mouth worked silently, trying to spit out the words that weren’t there.
“I know that you’ll think it over and see how what I’ve said all ties together. You’ll see what I’ve been trying to tell you, and eventually you’ll understand. Why don’t you go for a walk again, but this time let your subconscious work on what I’ve said for a while. It does a much better job of analyzing and sorting out than your conscious mind does. We can talk again when you return.”
She slowly rose and stared down at him. She knew he was right about the walk. He was quoting what she’d said to him on more than one occasion. “Richard, just how far did you two go?”
“Don’t waste time trying to pry information out of Wynter by telling her I told you everything. She’s expecting it.”
A hint of a wry smile teased its way onto a corner of her mouth. “You would tell her that,” she said as she turned and walked out of the room.
Richard lay back in his pillows and let out a long breath as he lowered the head of the bed. He’d have done that if he’d thought of it in time.


“Wynter, I’m going for another walk,” Angie said to the blonde ponytail seated on the pine stump.
Wynter turned her head, lowered the drawing tablet, and stood. Even from halfway across the large back yard Angie could see the tear streaks and red eyes. Wynter tucked the pencil behind her ear and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Is—is everything….” She dropped the pad on the stump and rushed toward her mother, arms flung wide to encircle her. She buried her face in her mother’s waist and cried in deep, wracking sobs. Dragon sat beside her and looked up at the two in his curious pose, whimpering softly.
“Mommy, I’m [sniff] I’m so sorry. Don’t don’t hate me. [sniff] Please? It’s not [sniff] Daddy’s fault, it’s—it’s all mine. Please [sniff] don’t hate him, either. Please? [sniff] Okay? Please?”
Angie jammed the point of her walking stick into the soft earth to hold it in place. Her left hand pressed her daughter’s shoulders in a hug while her right smoothed the blonde hair above the ponytail. Her body twisted in a gentle rocking motion. “Sweetheart, I don’t hate anyone. I’m just a little upset and angry. Why did…. No, never mind. I just need to go take a walk and think a bit. We’ll talk then. Okay? How’s your drawing?”
“It’s [sniff] okay, I guess.”
Angie disentangled herself from Wynter’s arms and dropped to a squat. She removed her bandanna and used it to wipe the tears and mucus from her daughter’s pitiful face. “I’ll just hike up to the aspen grove and back. Can you have your drawing finished in about twenty minutes, or do you need longer?”
Drawing the scary thing was a brilliant idea, and she wished she’d thought of it. It gave Wynter a way to vent her fears safely.
“I can be done [sniff] in about fifteen minutes.”
“Good. You can show it to your father and me at the same time. How’s that?”
“‘Kay,” she said in a small voice She was struggling to stop crying, but tears escaped from each eye. Angie caught them with the bandanna.
“Good.” She kissed Wynter’s forehead. “I’ll see you in a little bit.” She kissed Wynter’s forehead again and rose.
“I love you.” Wynter’s pleading voice sounded as if she were trying to convince her.
“I know you do, and I love you, too, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see your drawing.”
“‘Kay.” Wynter waved as her mother walked to the back gate and then, head down, trudged back to the stump, followed by her shadow.
Under the arbor Angie paused and turned, watching as Wynter moved the tablet from the stump and took her seat. Her daughter bent forward at the waist until she was almost lying on her legs, wrapped one arm around her knees, and engaged Dragon in a long, apparently one-sided conversation punctuated with pointing and waving of her free arm. As she watched a light slowly grew in the darkness of her thoughts.

Chapter 8

Angie wasn’t surprised that Wynter had met her at the gate. Dragon would have given her plenty of warning, though she suspected that Wynter had been waiting for several minutes, given the girl’s apprehensive look. She put a smile on her own face, which was never difficult whenever she saw her daughter. “Are you finished with the drawing?” she asked.
“Uh huh,” she said in a quiet voice. “But, do you mind if Daddy sees it the same time you do?”
“Of course not,” she said, opening the gate and holding an arm out for a hug. She wrapped her arms around Wynter and felt the girl’s muscles shuddering with tension. “Let’s go show him.”
“Are, um…. Are you still, um, mad at us?”
“I’m not mad, sweetheart. I’m not sure exactly how I feel, but I’m not mad at anyone, unless it’s at myself.”
Wynter pulled her head back and looked up at her with brimming blue-green eyes. “Why are you mad at yourself? You didn’t do anything.”
Angie let out a wry chuckle. “I guess that’s why. I didn’t think when I should have. Your father pointed that out to me and then gave me time to go think about it.”
Wynter sniffed lightly and nodded. “He’s good at that. He did the same for Nurse Carter while you were gone.”
“He did, huh? I don’t suppose he told you what Ellen did?”
“Well, no. Daddy didn’t. Nurse Carter told me, but….” She hesitated and then sighed. “Well, it’s patient confidentiality.”
“But, sweetheart, I’m the patient’s wife,” she said, wondering what Richard had said or done that needed to be kept confidential.
“Oh, no! Not Daddy. Nurse Carter was my patient. She said I could be her psy…. Her psy-chi-a-trist.” Wynter looked frustrated because she’d stumbled over the word, but she’d kept her eyes on Angie’s. “She said it helped her to talk about it and to show me why she shouldn’t have been mad at me.”
“Because of what you and your father did?”
A tear fell out of the corner of her right eye. “Uh huh.”
“Well, I won’t make you break a medical confidence. Come one. Let’s go see your picture. Dragon looks like he wants to go see it, too.”
“Oh, he’s already seen it. He thought it was scary, too.”
The catch in her throat caught her by surprise. The Wynter she had left behind wouldn’t have said that a dog would think a picture was scary. She coughed once. “Maybe he just wants to see if we agree with him.”
Wynter frowned and looked at Dragon. “Could be.”


As one, Angie and Richard exchanged glances, looked at the drawing again, and then to Wynter. Hollywood directors might spend hours reshooting a scene to get such perfectly-timed mirror reactions.
“That is scary,” Richard said, his eyes jumping back to the drawing. “Gruesome,” he murmured.
Angie was still trying to get words out of her mouth. “I agree,” was the best she could do before her eyes were also drawn back to the dark shape oozing out of the tree like some malevolent creature intent on committing great violence and mayhem with the small girl with the blonde ponytail cowering on the ground before it. The drawn girl seemed to be quaking on the paper as they watched. Angie felt tears accumulating in her eyes. “It certainly gets the point across to me,” she murmured, one hand reflexively curling around Richard’s left wrist.
She felt, rather than saw, his eyes on her because she couldn’t rip hers away from the creature in the drawing. She realized she was shaking her head and forced it to stop. “I….” She couldn’t get any further than that one word, though she tried three more times. She gave up, afraid that the next thing out of her mouth would be a scream.
“It’s the best I could do in the time I had,” Wynter said in an apologetic tone.
“I….” Her throat tensed, and she quit again. Fortunately Richard knew what to say.
“Honey, I think it’s good that you didn’t have any more time than that. I think it’s perfect for what you felt. Sometimes a rough drawing can be more effective at conveying emotions than a full-blown effort with oils and acrylics and… uh, stuff.”
Wynter’s tone turned eager. “You mean a sort of minimalist approach is best?”
“Ummm, yeah, I guess that’s what I meant. Right, dear?”
She made herself look at Wynter, saw the girl’s reaction, and forced her face to relax. “What? Oh. Yes. It’s, it’s….” She looked at Richard and saw the smile he was directing at Wynter. She forced her own smile and gave it as well. “It’s remarkable.” She willed her eyes to stay on the blue-green ones and not return to the drawing. “Sweetheart, would you mind if your father and I talked alone for a little bit, and then I’ll talk with you, and then we’ll all talk together in a family conference?”
“Ummm, okay. What should I do with the drawing?”
“You….” Good question. “You can put it in your room for now, and then go have some cookies and milk if you want them. Dragon can have a treat, too.”
“Okay.” She hesitated at the door.
“It’s okay, honey,” Richard said. “We just want to talk now.”
“That’s right,” Angie added. “Everything will be okay. Save a few cookies so I can have some with you later?”
“Sure. Should I close the door?”
“Ummm….” She couldn’t make her thoughts work.
“Yes, please,” Richard said. “We wouldn’t want Dragon to come ask us to let him out because you were too busy with your cookies and milk.”
“Smarty pants!” She closed the door behind her.
Angie gave Wynter time to put the drawing on her desk and go to the kitchen. That was her excuse. Actually she was trying to find the words, but all she could ask in a trembling voice was, “Did you see it, too?”
Richard smiled and shook his head as if dismissing what she was thinking. “Don’t read too much into it,” he cautioned. “It was subconscious because she was upset by what was going on. If I’d asked this morning or yesterday, I’m sure it would have looked more like Diana or Uncle Bob than you. You know as well as I do that if she thought the creature looked like you, she’d be in a panic and apologizing from now till breakfast.”
Her voice cracked as she squeaked, “But she really thinks I’m a monster and would hurt her.” She pressed her face to his arm and felt the tears roll off her nose.
“Of course she doesn’t.” Richard smoothed her hair in gentle strokes the way he always did when she was upset. “Her subconscious needed to get that out of the way and did so. If I asked her to draw a picture of you now, it would be as full of love as the one she drew for Ellen and me while you were gone. Trust me on this.”
She wasn’t convinced. But she changed the topic. “I saw what you meant as I was leaving the yard. The only one she has to talk to is Dragon, and she has to imagine his side of the conversation. I think you were right about not considering what was best for her. At least, not from her point of view. We assumed that what was best for us was automatically what was best for her. I can see where you might be right about that.” She knew that she was babbling to avoid the issue and stopped. As she expected, he did not avoid it.
“And the main issue?”
She sighed and wiped her eyes on his arm. “Well….”


The family meeting occurred at the dinner table over steak and onions with mashed potatoes and green beans and corn. “Your father and I want to know what you think about moving to town.”
Wynter stopped chewing and shifted her eyes between the two. After several seconds she asked, “Town?”
“Yes. Your father said he’d mentioned it to you. Do you like the idea? You’d be able to go to school with other children, uh….” She hesitated when Wynter frowned at the implication that she was still a child, then continued. “You’d have other… you’d have others around to talk to and to play and study with. You’d get to see more of Suzie, and you’d be able to talk medical stuff with Kenny Taylor. Or with his dad and Nurse Carter.”
The guilty look spread across Wynter’s face. “But Daddy said this was your dream home.”
“My dream home is wherever you and your father are. Our being together is what’s important, not where we are.”
“But what about your nature walks?”
“I can do that in Otter Park. And there’s Barber Beach where you can go swimming in the summer. You’ll be close to Wizard Basin and can go skiing there in the winter. You said you needed more practice at both. Suzie’s the captain of the swim team. I’ll bet she’d help you learn to swim better.”
They waited while Wynter resumed chewing, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“What about Dragon?”
“We’ll have to find a place with a big yard. Your father said that Tom Jerome is moving to Denver and has his house for sale. Daddy’s seen it before. I haven’t, but he says it’s nice.”
Richard pointed at Wynter with his fork. “That’s right. It’s a nice tri-level with a basement and a huge back yard. It’s at 1331 West Seabridge Trail. Do you know where that is?”
Wynter’s ponytail lashed as she shook her head. “Unh uh.”
“Well, it’s in the northwest corner of town, a little south of the highway and east of the park. It’s small hills with lots of trees in that area, so that it feels like you’re isolated even though there are neighbors close by. It’s about four blocks north of Suzie’s and three-quarters of a mile west of the Taylors’.”
Wynter pursed her lips and skewed them sideways in thought. “I don’t think we should move into a tri-level.”
“Why not?” Angie asked.
“There would be too many steps for Daddy to fall down and hurt himself.”
Angie snorted a laugh. Richard made a face and said, “Now who’s being a smarty pants?”
Most of the mealtime was devoted to the idea of moving to town, the house there, its neighborhood, and the disposition of their current mountain home. The latter was not a problem. Richard knew a broker who was always reminding him that he had clients who were looking for mountain homes like theirs and wanted to be the one called if they ever decided to sell.
An uneasy quiet settled around the table near the end of the meal. Wynter’s fork stirred a pattern in the residue of her mashed potatoes as she tried to find the words. Finally she chose some and spoke. “Um, what about….” She lost her nerve and said nothing more, her eyes locked a spot of gravy in her plate.
“Your father and I have discussed that, too. Wynter, I’m not mad. I’m still upset, but not mad. I know it’s too late to change things that have already happened. Unlike your aunt, I’m not dumb enough to try. I could ask that you stop and never touch each other again. I’m not dumb enough to think that would happen, even though you would mean it now if you promised it.”
Angie waited while Wynter sorted that out and raised her eyes. Angie cut off the objection. “Honey, if you’re going to be sexually active, I suppose I’d rather it be with your father than some stranger. With your father I can be certain that you aren’t going to suddenly announce that you’re pregnant or, worse, have some terrible disease. So, I’m not going to put the genie back in the bottle, but I am going to lay down some rules for the genie. Okay?”
Wynter swallowed, glanced at her father and noticed he was smiling, and nodded to her mother, her eyes wide.
“Good. First, just because I’m condoning it doesn’t mean that I want it flaunted in my face. There will be no humping in front of the television while I’m trying to watch the news, and we’re not going to have any family orgies. Understood?”
The look on Wynter’s face as she nodded told Angie that she was scaring the girl. She had sounded too harsh. She softened her voice and her face.
“Good. Second, Richard is my husband. I have first claim to him. I’m willing to let him have one night a week with you.” She held up an index finger and waved it back and forth. “In your room, not in our bed. Our bed is just for your father and me. Okay?”
Wynter seemed to relax a little. “Uh huh. Um, yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Third, that night shouldn’t be when you have school the next day, which means Friday or Saturday. I’ve decided it will be Friday for my own reasons.”
Wynter nodded. “That’s okay.”
“Good. Fourth, you know what will happen if anybody else finds out. You were lucky with Ellen. You will likely not be lucky the next time. Any time anyone else is around, whether you can see them or not, you will act like a normal daughter and father, not….” She sighed and swallowed. “Not like lovers. Whenever you’re sure nobody else is watching is when you can bet your college tuition that someone is. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am. Nurse Carter explained all of that to me, and so did Daddy. I understand that I can’t trust anyone else to keep a secret.”
“Good. Fifth, you can ask me any questions you want, just like always, but don’t expect me to give you lovemaking tips on how to keep your father happy. Questions about relationships in general, especially since you’re going to be in a school and around other… uh, around young men, are part of my responsibility of being a mother. They’ll be yours some day, but I’d prefer that ‘some day’ not be before you’ve finished high school and college.”
“And medical school.”
Angie smiled. “That’s even better.”
Wynter nodded, the concern no longer evident in her eyes and the hint of a smile teasing her coral lips. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Sixth.” She sighed. “Sixth. Sweetheart, this isn’t going to be easy for me for a while. I may get upset or grouchy because of it, but if I do, don’t forget that I love you. That won’t change. I may not love you in the same manner as your father does, but I love you as much as he does. This is a bigger change in my life than it is in yours. You may not fully understand that until after you’re married, but some day you will. So, when I get upset or grouchy, give me some space and let me get over it. Like your father did when he sent me for that second walk.”
Wynter nodded. “Sure. I love you with all my heart and don’t want to make you upset.”
Angie had to bite back the “It’s a little late for that.”
“Thank you. Now: since you got your way with that, I get my way now. You serve dessert.”
Dessert had to wait while Wynter threw her arms around her mother, buried her face in Angie’s neck, and squeezed.
That, Angie decided, is better than chocolate cake.

Chapter 9

The weather had turned uncharacteristically hot on moving day, three days ago. The water pump in the new house’s swamp cooler chose that time to die, and McKeown’s had to order a replacement from Houston. Fans stirred the air in the house, but were of marginal help. Angie wore a bandanna to keep the sweat out of her eyes as she unpacked still more moving boxes.
Over her shoulder she watched Wynter drop onto the edge of the living room sofa and slump, her legs straight out and sneakered feet pigeon-toed inward. Wynter sat with her arms dangling down between her legs as if she hadn’t the strength to lift them to the seat cushion. The breeze from the fans stirred her bangs and the loose strands of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. “I didn’t know moving would be so much work,” her daughter said with a heavy sigh. Dragon collapsed at her feet. Standing guard in a fur coat while his human unpacked boxes and put things away had exhausted him, too.
Angie looked in the open box atop the stack beside her. Two more plates remained to be placed in the dining room china cabinet. She almost reached for them, but instead she sat beside Wynter and heaved a big sigh of her own. “I’d forgotten how bad it was. Of course, it’s been a long time since I moved into that house, and we didn’t have as much to move then. We added a lot of stuff after we’d settled in.” She wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and squeezed. “Good thing I have a helper this time.”
“I think your helper is worn out,” Wynter replied collapsing sideways against her. “I’m going to sleep the rest of summer.”
“Would you rather have a stranger put everything away in your new room? You’d never find half of it again.” She felt Wynter’s body tense momentarily. Wynter would never allow anyone else to touch her things.
“When’s Daddy getting back with lunch? I’m starved.” Her voice had a slight whine.
Sunlight flashing off a moving windshield swept through the window and around the room as Richard’s new pickup pulled into the driveway.
Angie kissed the top of Wynter’s head. “How’s that for timing?”
“Any earlier and I’d have been too tired to eat.”
Angie pulled away slightly to look at Wynter’s face. “Is there any way to please you?”
Wynter giggled.
“Besides that.”
“Unh uh. Daddy says I’m too much like you.”
Angie rubbed one of Wynter’s slender upper arms with her hand and felt a look of sympathy creep onto her face. “God help you, sweetheart.”
Richard almost bounced through the door, whistling off key. “Kentucky Fried Colonels for everybody!” he announced, holding up two large red-and-white plastic bags. He looked back and forth between his two favorite women. “What is this, a loafer’s convention?”
“Some of us had to work,” Wynter sighed.
“Well, so did I! The new pump for the swamp cooler came in, and I also picked up lunch. I even carried it into the house all by myself, without any help from anyone else!”
“So where’s the pump?”
“You ask about the pump when I bring food?” Richard sighed and indicated with a jerk of his head. “That’s still in the truck. I was afraid the weight of it plus the weight of all this food might cause me to strain something.” He saw the looks on their faces and added, “Kevin did tell me not to overdo it!”
He looked from one to the other in anticipation as they rolled their eyes. “Well? Doesn’t anybody want a kiss?”
“I do,” Angie said, “but Wynter’s too tired.”
“Am not,” she retorted, sitting upright.
“I spoke first, slowpoke. You can wait your turn.” She rose and threw her arms around Richard. Still holding the bags, he crossed his arms behind her and bent her backward.
Wynter snorted. After a few seconds she tapped her foot, crossed her arms, thrummed her fingers on her elbows, and made impatient noises while her parents stretched out the kiss. She looked at her wrist as if checking a watch and thrummed some more. She coughed. Twice. “Well, Dragon, how about those Broncos?” When he looked up and thumped his tail she said, “That’s what I thought, too,” and looked at her “watch” again. “Read any good books lately?”
She saw a tremble in both her father and her mother. They were fighting to hold back laughter. “I’m all rested up now,” she announced. “And if I don’t get a kiss real quick, I’m going to go eat up all the chicken and the smarty pantses will just go hungry.”
Richard’s head jerked back, leaving Angie’s tongue exposed for an instant. As she straightened, he transferred both bags to one hand, spread the other over his heart, and staggered backward. “Oh, NO!“ he cried. ”Not the chicken!”
Angie threw back her head, eyelids squeezed shut in anguish, and pressed the back of one hand to her forehead. “Oh, mine cruel and heartless daughter! Take thy beak from out mine heart, and put instead a chicken leg in mine stomach!”
Wynter rolled her eyes upward. “I can go down to Jimmy McCauley’s house. He’ll kiss me.”
That got their attention. They looked at each other and then back to her. “But I’d rather have you,” she said to her father. Just before their lips met she added, “And it better be at least as good as what Mother got.”
Angie took the food bags from Richard. “Then I guess I have time to go set the table.”
“Um hmm,” Wynter grunted before backing away to stage-whisper in conspiratorial tones, “I’m not wearing a bra.”
Angie doled out paper plates on the breakfast table, the only flat surface in the kitchen that didn’t have boxes stacked on it. Mother’s little helper was the one who had insisted that she would be sorry if she didn’t keep one surface, preferably that one, clear all the time. She reasoned that Wynter spoke from recent experience in her room.
Jimmy McCauley? She didn’t know the boy, but he’d been in front of the house when they first inspected it with the broker. He’d seemed quite smitten with Wynter at first sight. When they began moving in he’d been a constant presence, either volunteering to help or frequently riding past on his bike and staring at the house as if looking for someone. He still checked once or twice a day to see if he was needed. His father, Keith, was a supervisor for the county highway crew and someone she and Richard knew in passing.
Ellen Carter said that the twelve-year-old was his father’s son, an upright, courteous, first-class individual and that Wynter could do far worse for a friend. Ellen also said that Suzie Middleton had her eye on Jimmy. The near future could become interesting.
Napkins. She shook her head. Richard had remembered to bring the plastic fork/spoon combinations that Wynter called “foons,” but he’d forgotten the napkins. She reached for the paper towels.
Richard’s relationship with Wynter still disturbed her a little, somewhere deep inside, but at least her daughter’s first intercourse had been with someone who cared about her. Eddie Thomas had not only been the first to play looky-loo with Angie, back when she was nine or so, he’d also been the first for touchy-feely and was the first to screw her, shortly after she turned fifteen. And screw her, he did.
Her first experience wasn’t ‘making love.’ It was getting royally screwed, and it was practically rape. He was putting on the rubber while he knelt between her wide-spread thighs in his parents’ den. He suddenly realized he was about to cum prematurely. He dropped the rubber, jammed his boner into her virgin hole, and came two pumps later, before she’d recovered from the surprise and could tell him to get the hell out of there. He pulled out, wiped his cock on her bush, held both her ankles aloft in one hand while he slapped her bare ass with the other, and said, “Not bad for a beginner.” Obviously it was something he’d learned from talking to other boys because he’d already admitted he was still a virgin, too. She’d worried about pregnancy for almost three weeks. It was the last time she let him touch her. She was in college and on the pill before she let anyone else touch her. Fortunately her daughter didn’t have horrible memories like that of her first experience.
Angie looked out the kitchen window and sighed, banishing the memories. They had a huge back yard, with large trees that provided shade as well as the sense of closeness to nature she needed. They were on the edge of town, and walking trails and woods and meadows were close by. But those weren’t on her property. Well, they were on public property, so they were partially hers. She’d been afraid that Richard would want to move to Denver or Grand Junction or Casper, some place larger and more boisterous. She hadn’t considered moving down the mountain to town. It wasn’t too far from their former mountain home. An older couple had bought their dream property and said that they were welcome to return to hike through the woods and meadows and to dangle feet in the creek any time they wished.
Wynter would be going to a real school for the first time, surrounded by people her own age. She wondered if Wynter would stabilize at their maturity level or bring some of them up to hers. She knew Wynter and thus knew which way to place that bet.
A sudden, sharp sound from the living room heralded Wynter’s orgasm. Angie supposed it was better that she got it from Richard than from someone like Eddie. In fact, she knew in her heart that it was better. But Jimmy McCauley better keep his grubby little hands off—and other parts out of—her daughter if he knew what was good for him!
The good news was that Wynter knew how to handle him. She hoped. They had discussed sexuality and sexual relationships with a frankness that she’d never expected to experience with her own child. She’d certainly never experienced that candor with her mother. She had done what she hoped was an adequate job of explaining men to Wynter. She loved Richard, but unlike herself, he was blind to the faults, foibles, and shortcomings of his own sex.
Wynter had laughed oddly when she mentioned that fact, but her daughter had explained that she had somehow dredged up a funny thought from the past. But Wynter had admitted afterward that she now understood men well enough to help her take care of Richard’s needs, especially if she had to leave town again. “Most mothers aren’t lucky enough to have a helper for that,” Wynter had said. “Not a helper who wouldn’t run off with your husband.” That had been the thirty-year-old Wynter making a reappearance after an absence of over a week.
She smiled warmly at her family as the other three, husband, daughter, and daughter’s omnipresent shadow, trooped into the kitchen, one looking exceptionally pleased with himself, one looking dreamily satiated, and one looking as if he were performing the most important job in the world.
No, Dragon, you don’t have the most important job. I do.


While Richard alternated between deep kissing Wynter’s mouth and sucking her sweet little breasts, he had snaked his fingers up the leg of her shorts. He was surprised to discover that Wynter wasn’t wearing panties, either. His fingertips felt soft cornsilk curls and moisture and heat. His desire ignited and he felt the Beast begin to stir, despite the workout it had received the night before. His tongue attacked hers with renewed vigor.
She moaned into his mouth when his index and ring fingers parted her labia, allowing his middle finger to drag some of her “natural lubrication” to the hard little pebble of her clit. He began gently massaging the tiny button with his thumb while his middle finger crept up inside her body. Moments later she jerked her hips in the way that he’d learned meant she was rapidly building to a climax.
Half a minute later her body stiffened and a sharp moan escaped through the tension in her throat. Her body convulsed. His thumb stopped rubbing her sensitive little clit, and his finger stilled within her hot, pulsing love tunnel. Three more jerks, then a pause, a smaller convulsion, another pause, and a final spasm. Another moan devolved into a sigh, and she relaxed against him, somewhere finding the strength to rub her hand down the back of his head. His head dropped to her breast and he gently nipped on the two sweetest little berries in the country.
She giggled, and after a brief pause said, “I love you Daddy, with all my heart.”
He raised his head to look into the beautiful blue-green pools sparkling with love and satiation beneath her blonde bangs. His free arm squeezed her in a tight hug. “I love you, too, honey.” He smiled at her and added, “And I always will.”
Why the hell did I feel the need to add that? he wondered. He’d never felt the need to add it before. He pondered the question as he released her from the hug and used his index finger to trace an “X” over his heart. He idly wondered if it had anything to do with the Jimmy McCauley remark.
It was The Moment the Lights Came On. All of the talk about first nursing school and then medical school, all of the talk about her being a wife with a husband and a mother with children of her own. All of that, and he’d never seriously understood that the day would come when he would have to face life without Wynter as a constant presence in his life. The day would come when “home” would be just Angie and himself in the house.
He returned to the present and looked into the worried face brimming with love and concern.
“Did you go away again?”
A huge smile of love spread across his face, and he felt sadness horning in around the edges. “Just for a minute. I’m back now.”
“Did you go someplace nice?”
He dipped his head to give her soft coral lips a gentle father’s kiss. “Not as nice as the place I came back to.”
She giggled happily, but stopped when he reluctantly removed his finger from her sweet young body. He held the finger back as he pulled her top down. “The chicken’s getting cold.”
She gave him the lascivious grin of a thirty-year-old woman. “You know how to warm chicks up.”
“Just the kind of chicks that don’t have feathers,” he said, popping his middle finger in his mouth to suck it clean of her juices. ”Mmmm. Finger lickin’ good.”
“Smarty pants.”
They laughed, and he wrapped his arms below hers, lifting her and kissing her in mid-air. She finished with a nose-and-lips kiss that suddenly seemed more precious than ever to him. He lowered her to her feet and took her hand. Dragon fell into place on her other side, and they trooped into the kitchen to see his other favorite chick.


Wynter rolled her eyes upward. “I can go down to Jimmy McCauley’s house. He’ll kiss me.”
Where did that_ come from?_ She had no idea. However, it worked: they were focused on her. She made a mental note to remember that trick.
“But I’d rather have you,” she said to her father. Just before their lips met she added, “And it better be at least as good as what Mother got.” The love that sparkled in his eyes made her heart feel too big for her chest again.
Her mother took the food, freeing her father’s hands for more interesting activities. “Then I guess I have time to go set the table.”
“Um hmm,” Wynter sighed dreamily as she closed her eyes and parted her lips. Then her eyes flew open. I almost forgot! She pulled back to whisper loud enough for her mother to hear, “I’m not wearing a bra.” She almost giggled at the look her mother gave her, but then her father’s lips touched hers and the world narrowed to the contact of their lips and the feel of his hand sliding up under her blouse to tease her nipple and cup her breast her titty and she closed her eyes again.
Strange that she should have to remind herself of the grownup word. It was the first time since her father had been allowed out of his recovery bed that she didn’t remember. She’d been having lots of trouble remembering things since they’d moved to town, sort of like she was distracted, but there was nothing to distract her except the endless unpacking and storing of things.
Her father’s fingers slid inside the leg opening of her shorts. She felt his surprised reaction when his fingertips immediately found soft, cornsilk curls instead of panties. His kisses grew stronger.
“Mmmm,” she moaned as his finger probed the firm, hirsute—she’d just learned that grownup-sounding word and liked it—outer lips of her pussy while his tongue did the same with the coral lips of her mouth. She felt almost like she could see his tongue chasing hers back and forth between their mouths, as if it were a movie being projected on the insides of her eyelids. And then her view shifted and she could see his blue eyes and light dusting of freckles staring at her from beneath his mop of red hair….
Huh? Her father had green eyes, brown hair, and no freckles. Why would she suddenly think that?
Jimmy McCauley! Jimmy had blue eyes, red hair and freckles. Her father’s fingers must have done something special while she was distracted because the aching horniness in her split—her pussy—suddenly grew stronger. The clockspring began tightening as his finger slid into her hot, slick, wet pussy while his thumb did wonderful things to her clitty. As the tension built toward her release point her attention focused on what was happening inside her knit shorts. Now the movie on the inside of her eyelids showed his fingers playing with her pussy.
She wondered if Jimmy McCauley’s fingers would feel the same way.
The clockspring exploded with the best orgasm she’d had in a week. She felt her pussy squeeze his finger as her body shook again and again and again and again at the end, like those earthquake aftershocks her father had told her about. Finally the tension left her body and she was allowed to relax.
She sighed contentedly and rubbed her hand down the back of his head, smoothing his hair. She felt just a little bit guilty about thinking of someone else when she came. She opened her mouth to speak but erupted with a giggle when he nibbled her nipple. She tried again. “I love you, Daddy, with all my heart.” This time it meant two things. It was also an apology, even though he didn’t know that it was or why.
She didn’t feel much less guilty when he replied that he also loved her with all his heart. But then he added, “And I always will.” For just a moment that made her feel really guilty. Then, all of a sudden, the guilt went away and she felt wonderful! She knew in her heart that she would always have her father’s love, even if, as he’d said would happen, she found a boyfriend and later a husband, and she and her father stopped having sexual activities. Once again her heart felt too big for her chest. She started to say something about that.
His eyes were unfocussed, as if the eyes inside his head were too busy looking at something else. Maybe he was horny, too, and was thinking of the times she’d repaid his love and attention. Well, she could repay him this time, too!
“Daddy?” she asked, feeling her face pull into a worried frown all by itself.
His bright green eyes focused and looked deep into her, making her shiver with warm feelings of love. She wondered how a warm feeling on a hot day could make her shiver, but she filed that question away for later. “Did you go away again?”
She marveled at how he never seemed to smile at her the same way twice, yet every time that smile made her feel loved so very, very much.
“Just for a minute. I’m back now.”
“Did you go someplace nice?” She thought maybe his mind had gone looking for spring flowers again. She hoped he’d found them. If not, she’d draw him some more, and this time she would take as long as necessary to do a proper job. She was still amazed that the very first thing he carried into this house was her flower drawing. He put it on the wall of his home office, right above where his desk would go.
He gave her a gentle kiss that made her tingle all the way down to her toes and back. “Not as nice as the place I came back to.”
She couldn’t have held back her giggle for a million dollars. It stopped when he removed his finger. She felt just a little bit disappointed when he pulled her top back down over her tits and felt a frown creep over her face.
“The chicken’s getting cold,” he reminded her.
She sure was. “You know how to warm chicks up,” she reminded him.
They had just seated themselves at the table when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Wynter said. She had a good idea who it was.
She opened the door and had to look up just a little bit to see blue eyes in an eager, freckled face. Dragon, standing beside his human, started wagging his tail. Dragon seemed to like the boy, possibly because Jimmy had twice brought him a big dog biscuit.
“I was just riding past and, um, wondered if you might, um—you know, need any, um, help or something,” Jimmy said, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.
Anxiety disorder, she diagnosed. Again. “No, thanks. We’re just about to have lunch.”
“Oh,” he said as usual, with his usual disappointed look and his usual, “Well, if you, um, need anything just let me know. Bye.”
“Okay. I will.” She watched the slumped form turn back to his bike and surprised herself by saying, “Wait a minute.”
He turned to her with an eager look she’d sometimes seen in Dragon’s face, or in her father’s face when they were about to snuggle together.
“If you can come back in about an hour, I could sorta use some help, um, unpacking stuff and—and putting it on the, um, top shelves of my bookcases and closet. Okay?”
Wynter had been to Las Vegas once, when her father went to a geologists’ convention. None of the buildings there lit up the way Jimmy’s face did. ”Okay!”
They said temporary goodbyes, and he raced away on his bike. Wynter waved and then dropped her hand to scratch behind one of Dragon’s ears. “You know, Dragon, he’s kinda cute.”


Anonymous 21/02/05(Fri)15:53 No. 27170 ID: d37c21

I'm looking for a storm that was on here ages ago.

It's about a spaceship mechanic/engineer who ends up with a blue-ish alien girl. Their luxury space liner suffers an air leak, then a decompression, then they end up in an escape pod. I think he gets some sort of head injury? He only admits to linking here when she starts releasing certain scents.

Anonymous 21/02/06(Sat)07:55 No. 27172 ID: e201b6

Story_codes: M/M/f/m

Story_intro: A man stumbles across a young girl and her father at a shopping mall and is drawn into an erotic web from which he can not escape.

by Playhouse

Why she caught my eye I really don't remember. You know the
way some things draw your focus. They beg you to look. Maybe
it was the breeze from the open doors. It had been an unusually
cold winter and everyone was bundled from head to toe but, as
usual, the weather report failed to live up to it's promise.
The 'January thaw' had begun in earnest.

The entrance to the mall was protected by an unbroken line of
glass doors, and now half of them had been propped open. The
giant space that was Eastgate Plaza inhaled and exhaled like some
giant mechanical animal, trying to balance the warming midwinter
day with the relentless mechanical weather-maker somewhere in the
mall's basement.

So it was, on one of those incredible inhales, that my eyes
followed a collection of unswept papers, foam cups, and dirty
brown leaves as they chased each other in through one of the doors.
I was trying to estimate how far into the mall they might
penetrate when I found myself locked in a trance. Directly
across the tile floor from me, a young girl, who struck me as
being about 10 years old, rested one foot on a bench and the
other on the floor. She leaned over her bent knee and was
engaged in retying her shoelace. The breeze had lifted the hem
of her dress into the air and when it came back down to earth it
had caught on some beautiful invisible object on her waist. The
result being a view of the slender and exquisitely beautiful leg
of this child. And what a view. From her low, black, laced
shoe, past a pure white sock that had been pulled up tight at one
time but now crumpled down around her ankle, up the longest and
slimmest leg I had ever seen, and finally flaring out just past
the lace-trimmed elastic of her panties. There was not one
centimeter of wasted flesh on her and every bit of what she was
unconsciously revealing was adding more and more beats to my
heart. What was left of this past summer's tan clung to her like
velvet. I suppose if she had been older and more self-conscious
she would have noticed and quickly corrected the problem.
Problem. Ha! The only problem was the possibility of me
passing out any minute.

Her immediate task completed, she pulled her dress up past her
bent knee and proceeded to lick at some sort of real or imagined
blemish. Her tiny tongue darted all over her smooth skin. Oh,
how I wished I was that knee right now. She became lost in a kind
of game that involved licking, then kissing, then more licking.
I tried to transport various parts of my body to that spot but
then became conscious that I was perspiring profusely.

Just at the point where I thought I might need someone to phone
for medical assistance, the spell was broken.

"Zoe! Five more minutes. Then we go."

The voice of an impatient and unsympathetic adult cut the cord
that had drawn me to her. Zoe. Just about perfect. She rubbed
the kisses from her knee and brought the recently tied shoe back to
the earth for a perfect landing. She pirouetted once and her dress
flared and reassembled itself around her. And what a dress.
Fitted above her waist, flared below to a point just above her knees.
Puffy long sleeves hid arms that I knew must be as slim and as
beautiful as her legs. This was a winter dress but it clung to her
body just like a thin summer dress does when the air is still and
the body hot and sticky. Someone had spent some money dressing
this child.

Zoe put her arms behind her head. She took in a deep breath
and as she did I could see that her budding breasts were just
strong enough to reveal their presence beneath the heavy fabric.


Damn that voice. But it was hopeless. I followed her with my
eyes. She didn't just walk, she pranced. Then all at once, an
elderly couple walked between us and I lost track of her for a
moment. When I found her again she had moved about three feet.
She walked past a seated man who was wearing a dark overcoat,
spun around, and plopped herself down next to him. She leaned
her head on his shoulder. He had a camera slung over his arm and
the girl pushed it out of the way. I'm not sure why, but my gaze
drifted to the face of the man. I was petrified. He was looking
straight at me. Not just in my direction, but straight at me. In
the eyes. Not even a blink. I immediately looked somewhere else,
everywhere else. I could feel the blood draining from my head and
was convinced that it was not draining to any place where it would do
any good. I took a chance and looked at him again. But there he was,
still staring at me. Maybe he's blind, I thought. Yes, that's it.
Please, please be blind. Or maybe he's having some sort of seizure.
Please, please, start writhing on the floor or something. No. He was
looking at me and only me. I was caught. But caught doing what? Did
he know? Does he know? What does he know?

I rummaged through my pockets for something to distract me. Thank
God. A bus schedule. I started to look through it, pretending. It
was last year's, but the bus times don't change that much, do they?
I was conscious of being nervous. But then I thought, I'm making more
of this than there is. The man couldn't suspect. Certainly not the
girl. But my nerves got the better of me and the bus schedule flew
from my hands and slid out into the middle of the aisle. Without
looking up, I rose and walked to it, staying hunched over in a half-
sitting, half-standing posture. My hand reached the edge of the paper
and, foolishly, I looked up to see if the man was watching me. He was
gone. But the girl was still there. Now she was sitting cross-legged
on the bench. She had pulled her dress up and I could see the skinny
tan legs that had nearly stopped my heart a moment ago. But now there
was more. The wind flapped the hem of her dress. It was waving at
me, almost begging me to look between her legs at her lace-trimmed
white panties. She squirmed a bit as she tried to find a comfortable
position. As she did, her dress rode up even further and her thin
inner thighs rolled up and down on either side of that delicious white

I had to make it back to my seat without passing out. I turned and
stood erect. Square in front of me, blocking my retreat to the bench,
stood the man. I had been outflanked. I felt like a little kid
caught stealing money from his mommy's purse. It seemed like we
stood there facing each other for an hour, then he spoke.

"It's nice to feel the warmth again, isn't it?"

Did he mean the weather? I was certain I was blushing all over.
Was he talking about my face? I was in big trouble now. He walked
to my bench and sat down. I looked toward the girl. She was busy
fussing with her necklace, oblivious to the rest of the universe.

"I often come to the mall with my niece. That's her over there.
Her name's Zoe. My sister's idea. Zoe. Sounds like some sort of
caption from a Batman comic, don't you think?"


"Her name. Zoe. Not a normal kid's name, if you ask me."

"It's... It's fine," I managed to say without choking.

"I see you're a supporter of public transportation."

"I do my part." God, I was losing it. I do my part. Really.

The man motioned for me to sit next to him. I should have run off,
but I stayed.

"My sister's a single parent. Zoe has a father, but he took off
when she was, I think, one. Maybe two."

"I'm sorry."

"Yes, and Zoe's mother travels. She's a model. She's in
Scotland for Vogue right now. Three more weeks, I think."


"Look at Zoe and you can see a miniature of her mom. She has all
the moves."

"So you take care of her."

"I have a 12-year-old. He's playing soccer until..." The man
checked his watch. "Until three. Then he'll be home. We have to be
back by then. He and Zoe get along great."

I couldn't understand why this total stranger was willing to tell
me all of this, but I managed, "I see you're a photographer."

"An aspiring amateur. Zoe likes to have her picture taken. Peter
too. Peter's my son."

"I'm sure she takes a terrific picture."

"She does. Want to see one?"

I said, why not, so he fumbled through the deep pockets of his
overcoat and produced a small envelope. He looked all around but we
were quite alone. Most everyone was outside enjoying the break in the
winter weather. He reached his hand into the envelope, but then
stopped. "I do all of my own lab work. I have a darkroom in the
basement. It's the only way to get good color these days."

"I could never do that."

"Oh yes you could. Books. That's how I learned. Books and a lot
of money for equipment and supplies. That's all it takes."

And now he removed a small color photograph and handed it to me.

"Whoops," he said as he turned it around. "There."

I looked at the photo, then at the man. He was waiting for a

"I sensed something about you when you first sat down," he said
softly. "I could be wrong. But I don't think so."

The photo. Zoe filled the frame. I'd recognize that angelic face
anywhere. Everywhere. She was unclothed except for a pair of floppy
white socks. She lay on her back on a small mattress. Her legs were
spread wide and a slightly older boy, also naked, was on top of her,
between her legs. There was no question but that they were fucking.
The open-lipped expression on Zoe's face confirmed it.

"Peter?" was all I could get out.

"Every time he comes home from soccer he's as horny as anything.
If Zoe's there, it's all I can do to get the camera in time and pray
there's film in it."

I had this incredible urge to plunge my hand inside my pants, but I
fought to gain control.

"I'm not wrong, am I? You understand, don't you?"

I looked in Zoe's direction and she was back to licking her knee.
And, for the first time, she glanced at me. I could see her look at
her uncle, then at the photograph in my hands, then, through half
open eyelids, straight at me. She blinked very slowly then ran her
tongue over her knee, all the while never losing eye contact with me.

"Why don't you come over this afternoon. I have more photos.
I'll show you my darkroom.

* * *

- 2 -

The year-old bus schedule flapped in the breeze that raced in my
window and out the passenger side. If I was a little younger I
wouldn't have to hold the paper so close. If I used a pen that had
some ink in it... Well, you get the idea. I felt like a nursing home
candidate as I tried to drive and read the street address I had
earlier engraved along the border of that big sheet of paper.

I had lived in this town for years but I'd never been in this
section. It was impossible to tell what kind of people lived here.
They weren't rich. Not poor. Just... nothing. It was the kind of
neighborhood they photograph and put on campaign photos, behind the
candidate. No one would ever associate this place with any group of
anyone, ever.

'3414 West Hemlock Court.' What the heck is a court? My watch
beeped. Four o'clock and it's getting dark already. God, I hate
Winter. Was I supposed to do something at four? My heart raced.
Another look at the address. I'm on Hemlock. There's '3410.'
There's '3420.' What'd they do with '3414?' Ha! I should have
guessed. A joke at my expense. Very expensive. Damn, I'm stupid.
Why did they go to all that trouble? Her uncle, right, her uncle.
He's probably laughing his head off right now. God, it's so easy to
get drawn in. I've got no control when I see a pair of young legs.
I'm like a crab on its back. I just keep smiling while somebody
slices off my head. How do I get out of here? I need a cold shower
or something.

Ahead of me, brown leaves, now dry from the run of pleasant
weather, blew into the air. A woman was getting out of her car with a
bag of groceries. Maybe she can get me out of this nightmare.

I stopped next to her and cleared my throat, "Pardon me."

She jumped a mile and a box of something tumbled onto the road.
She retrieved the box. She looked angry. What did I say?

"Excuse me, but I seem to be lost. How do I get back to Mellman

"You scared me to death."

"I'm sorry. Really. Mellman Road. Do you know how to get to it
from here?"

"Mellman, Mellman, let's see. Ah. Turn right at the next corner
and go four blocks to Hemlock and..."

"Hold it. I thought this was Hemlock."

"It is." Then she started pointing all over the place. "And
there. And over there. Pretty funny, huh?"


"This is Hemlock Place. Over there, let's see, over there is West
Hemlock Court and... I thought you wanted Mellman."

"Mellman. Right. Ummm, do you know where East Hemlock Court is?"

"Sure. It's... It's..."

This was turning into a nightmare. It was nearly dark and the
thought of constantly running through the intersections of Hemlock and
Hemlock was almost too much to endure.

"East. East Hemlock."

"East. Yes. It's...," as she aimed herself like a compass.
"It's there. That way. I'm almost... eighty percent certain."


"Pretty sure."

I thanked her and edged the car away. In the mirror I could see
more stuff as it fell out of her bag. This was not a reliable
resource, I decided. However, the promise of unpromised things
propelled me on. What was that address? Ah, yes, 3414 West... Damn,
I asked her about East. I said East. I can't believe it. I'm
screwed. And I did it to myself. I blew it.

As I drove back toward my apartment, I took turns blowing on each
of the palms of my hands. They both had turned to fingery globs of
sweat and were actually slipping on the steering wheel. My heart was
beating slow and hard now, a reminder of today's stupidity. Maybe it
was all a dream. If you live alone long enough your brain probably
conjures up all kinds of imaginary happenings.


Last night I struggled through bits and pieces of sleep. I had
all sorts of fanciful dreams that didn't make any sense. So at 5:30 I
got up and made myself a strong espresso. I never get up this early.
I'm not working. I don't have to get up. I'm not a deadbeat, just
semi-retired. Then it struck me. The map! I raced into the den and
rummaged through the large cabinet built into the wall. I was like a
madman. Where is it? The thing that I always thought was a totally
useless gift from... from... I can't remember.

Found it! The hyper-detailed charts of this tiny county, detailed
down to the last square millimeter. Finally, a reason to have lugged
this yellow-pages-of-the-roadways from place to place. Now, where is
it? I flipped and flipped. Okay, the index. I'm a Renaissance Man.
I can use the index without losing my manhood. Ah, here it is. Here
they are. All of them. Geeesh! Half a page of 'Hemlocks.' East...
no, West Hemlock. Got it! Page 622. Turn, turn, flip, flip. 622.
Hemlock, Hemlock, Hem... Bingo! Now, 34-something. I looked all
around for the bus schedule. Nowhere! Wait. The car!


This made more sense now, as I skillfully maneuvered my car from
East Hemlock, onto Hemlock Way, and then down West, yes West Hemlock
Court. Finally. But now, directly ahead of me, a traditional yellow
school bus turned into the street. It stopped halfway down the block.
The flashing red lights came on so I stopped too.

There she was. Zoe floated to the ground from the last step. In
one smooth motion she turned and waved to the driver. As she turned,
her skirt flared out, revealing those long, thin legs that have now
driven me to madness. As the bus drove off, a kid yelled some sort of
inane farewell out the window. And now we were alone. Zoe and me.
Five hundred feet apart. My heart raced again as I watched her walk
with no particular hurry toward the front door of this tiny house.
I took a breath to appease my lungs just as a loud horn honked
behind me. I was still stopped in the middle of the street. I waved
at the macho pretzel-head who flipped me the finger as he burned
rubber to get around me. I can't imagine anyone like that needing to
be any place important. Even Zoe turned to watch the jerk speed past.

I pulled off into an empty spot. Three o'clock and the shadows
were already long. I looked up, but she had gone. My palms were
wet again. I locked up the car and walked down the sidewalk. I
stopped and stood on the spot where Zoe had landed. I inhaled slowly,
hoping to breathe her in, but the breeze was too strong. Or it was
wishful thinking. I don't know. I was running on automatic now as I
turned and traced her steps toward the little house. There were no
footprints, but I knew where each shoe had touched.

I mounted the porch and examined the door. There were no signs of
life anywhere. My hand trembled as I pressed the doorbell. Silence.
Should I press it again? Maybe it rang somewhere deep inside the
place. Okay, one more time. Silence again. I looked around. The
street and the yards were deserted. I mustered my courage and
knocked. Nothing. I backed up a bit and checked the address.
'3414.' I was in the right place. Unless this really was a joke.

A click, and the inside door began to open very slowly. Oh, God.
It was her. Right in front of me. I could feel my knees giving way.
She was sucking on half of a popsicle. It was 40 degrees out and she
was sucking on a popsicle. She turned, still holding on to the
doorknob. "Uncle Steve! Someone's at the door!"

She turned back and looked up at me through hooded eyelids. I was
transfixed as I watched her move the popsicle in and out over her
cherry red lips. I suppose they were that red from the cold. Maybe.

But now footsteps approached from way behind her. It was dark
inside and I couldn't make out anything. Then he was there. The man
I had met in the mall. The one with the photograph. Zoe's uncle.
Whatever his name was. Steven, I guess. Zoe backed away as Steven
reached the door. "Yes," he said.

"I don't know if..."

"Yes, yes. The fellow from the mall. Yesterday. You didn't come
over. We were expecting you."

We. He said 'we.' "I had trouble finding Hemlock. I hadn't
realized there were so many of them here."

"Steven. Steven Swift. Come in. Please." And Zoe vanished as
Steven ushered me in. "Every time we get a new mailman, mail gets
lost for a month before the new one figures everything out."

"I wasn't sure you..."

"I'm glad you made it."

Now it's 'I.' I liked the 'we' better. Much better. Steven
showed me to the living room. There was a small fire crackling and
the room was a bit smoky.

Steven watched me sniff the air. "There's not enough of a breeze
blowing to get the air moving. I just lit it a few minutes ago.
It'll clear out soon."

Only a moment passed, then Steven returned, pushing Zoe ahead of
him like a snowplow. "This... is Zoe Spencer. Zoe, this is... I
don't think you ever told me your name."

"Alan. Alan Hydecker. Just Alan would be fine. Alan."

"Zoe, this is just Alan." And we all laughed. But then Zoe held
out her hand to me. Like a slow motion ballet, I reached out and
held it. Her hand was like liquid velvet. I felt like kissing it,
but thought better and just shook it. She took back that small warm
hand and proceeded to rub her palm on her cheek, allowing it to graze
over her still red lips. Now she moved it down her thin neck, over
her shoulder, and across the front of her dress. Her palm pressed
against the little mounds that hinted of her tiny breasts under the
fabric. Then she moved her hand still further down to her hip and
across to where her crotch was under the dress. She pressed her
finger tips lightly against the dress there. Now her hand took
flight from her own body and landed on her uncle's arm. How long did
that take? Hours? Days? No, probably three or four seconds. I was
not conscious of staring at her until I saw Steven looking at me. A
slight smile crossed his lips. Caught again. Damn!

The front door slammed open and a young boy dressed in a soccer
uniform and covered with dirt stormed in. I supposed that this must
be Peter.

"Fucking jerks!"

"Peter!" exclaimed his dad. "You don't talk like that here."

"Well, they are."

"Not like that. You hear me?"


"Do you?"

"I said yes, didn't I?"

"All right, then. Alan, this is my son, Peter. Peter, Alan." And
Peter smiled at me for a thousandth of a second, then walked over to
Zoe. He stood behind her and pulled her arms behind her back.

"Ow!" And Zoe tried to wriggle free. I wanted to jump up and
smack him but I held myself back. Why was he so crude? "Not now,"
she said, still trying to break free.

"Why not? You said you like it when I'm hot and sweaty."

"Well today you smell"

"I got into a fight."

"Peter!" cried his dad.

"Corey tripped me for no good reason. After the game I got him
behind the fence. I got him around the neck and hit him twice in the
mouth. He fell and I kicked him but good.

Steven was clearly upset. "I can't believe you did that."

"Yeah, well he had it comin'." Now he finally let go of Zoe. She
ran to Steve. "C'mon, Zoe."

But Zoe shook her head. "Take a shower first," she said.
"Then... maybe."

"Fucking prima donna."

"Peter!" said Steven.

"Okay, okay. A shower." He turned toward Zoe. "Then you better
be ready."

Peter stormed off to his room. Steven shook his head as he
watched his son depart. "He isn't always like this. Only when his
team loses."

"Uncle Steven, his team hasn't won yet."

"Yes. Well... Hmmm. Alan, want some coffee?"

I said I did, so Steven went into the kitchen to make the coffee.
Zoe waltzed around the room, allowing her slender fingers to graze
over every object in there. I sat at one end of the sofa in front of
the fireplace but kept an eye on Zoe. She orbited the sofa and, as
she did, she periodically checked to see if I was watching. Seemingly
satisfied, she slid lightly onto the opposite end of the sofa. She
was dressed nearly the same as when I saw her at the mall the previous
day. A different dress. It looked like wool or something heavy like

She crossed her legs and pulled the hem of her dress up and over
her knee. She stroked her crossed leg up and down. She massaged it.
I was staring again and, again, I was caught. She paused in her
caressing and that pause caused me to look at her face. And, yes, she
was looking right at me. She looked away from me and back to her leg
matter-of-factly. She caressed her leg again.

"My mother says I have hot blood."

"Does she," I gagged.

"I spose when I have a fever it gets hotter. I don't have a fever
now. Do you?"

"Me? No, I don't think so."

"Momma feels my forehead if she thinks I have a fever."

"A lot of mothers..."

"She had a boyfriend once. He was going to be my new daddy. He
thought I was sick all the time. He didn't feel my forehead. He said
there was a better way."


"He said his finger was like a temperature thing."


"Yeah, that. He used to take my temperature all the time. I
didn't feel all that sick. He said sometimes you don't feel sick when
you're sick. It didn't make any sense. I wonder if he was a doctor.
Do you think?"

"Maybe." I couldn't lie to her. Not ever. "No. I don't think he
was. A doctor, that is. Not a doctor"

"Anyways, one day Momma said he wasn't going to be my new daddy
anymore. So that was that."

And with that comment, Zoe slid into the middle of the sofa. She
pulled her legs up and swung around so she was facing me. She threw
her arms over her head and plopped backwards onto the cushions. She
thrust her legs straight out in my direction so that the heels of her
black, laced shoes came to rest on my leg.

"Five minutes and we have coffee," came Peter's warning from the

Zoe turned to look over her shoulder and stretched out and, as she
did, her dress rode up so that it was now halfway between her waist
and her knees and all bunched up. She turned back then slid along the
cushion toward me. Her knees bent and her dress slid up to her

"Whoops," she said as she straightened her legs and stretched them
across my lap.

My cock had already begun to strain against my pants, but she
couldn't possibly know that. Suddenly, I had no place to put my

"They're hot now," she said as she propped herself up on her
elbows. "They are."

"What are?"

"My legs. They're hot now. Wanna feel?"

So I almost lost it right there. I had come this far, knowing that
this was exactly what I wanted to happen. My hands trembled. I
looked toward the kitchen. Zoe was smart.

"He said five minutes. 'member?" She reached out and took one of
my hands. "They're big. Bigger than Peter's."

Now she placed my hand around her ankle. The touch of that young
skin shot through me like lightning. Slightly cool. Slightly sticky.

"It's cold there," she whispered. She pulled my hand slowly up her
leg. "Warmer, huh?"

And, indeed, it was. She let go of my hand just below her knee.
My hand was on its own now. She smiled at me and nodded her head.

"Go ahead," she whispered. She turned to look over her shoulder.
"Go ahead. I'll watch."

Zoe was asking me to feel her. A 10-year-old girl wanted me to
touch her. She knew exactly what she wanted. So I melted into the
luxury of those soft, shiny, tanned legs. I moved my hand up over her
knee and down toward the bunched-up dress. Then back again. Zoe
parted her legs slightly. I slid my hand under her leg and squeezed
her long thin calf muscle. It was incredibly supple. Her legs were
so thin. I slid my hand around and luxuruated in the smooth shiny
skin pulled tight over the bone. Now up to her knee again. Zoe
straightened her leg and pointed her toe. My hand explored the back
of her knee, warm and sticky from being bent.

"Go ahead. Do it."

My hand slid up over her knee again and onto her exquisitely warm
inner thigh. She parted her legs a little more. As she did, the
fragrance of her warm little body streamed toward me. My heart was
pounding in my ears like a pile driver on hard concrete. Zoe moaned
slightly and her lips parted, the same lips that only a short while
ago were caressing that half-popsicle.

My fingers pressed on her velvet skin ever so slightly and with
each pass across her thigh, the tips of my fingers slid closer and
closer to the hem of her dress.

But Zoe wasn't paying attention to the kitchen, she was watching
me. She followed my hand with her eyes and when I felt something that
made her feel particularly good, or in a way that she liked, she would
let her eyelids close slightly. It was her signal to me, perhaps
even unconscious, and we both understood.

It was then that, for no particular reason, I slid my fingers
beneath the hem of her dress and toward her panties, yet unseen.
Without a word or a sudden motion, Zoe carefully placed her hand on
her dress so that it covered mine. She exerted a slight pressure and
stared at me with that serious knowing look of hers. Not now.

Message understood.

"Here we go. The best coffee in town. Maybe the neighborhood.
Anyway, it's good coffee. Ready?"

My hand fled from Zoe's thigh like a lizard's tongue that had just
snared a grasshopper.

"Steven paused and looked at Zoe, her legs parted across my lap,
and said, "Good, you're getting acquainted?"

* * *

- 3 -

The coffee was... okay. Just okay. The world's coffee makers had
nothing to fear from Steven. But it was hot and the fire was getting
down to business and the smoke had indeed cleared from the room. I
hadn't even noticed. And Zoe was... gone. She was here a moment ago.
I remember. She had swung her legs around when Steven came in with
the tray. I turned to add some cream. And she was gone. Some papers
blew onto the floor as the breeze from her departure drifted across
the coffee table.

The toilet flushed and the water from Peter's shower started and
stopped and then it was just the crackling fire.

"I used to do only black and white," as Steven broke the silence.
"But with modern equipment, color is nearly as inexpensive."

And Zoe pranced in. She had a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie in
one hand. Instead of just taking bites, she would lick part of it
first to get it a little soft. Then she would eat only that spot.
She repeated the process over and over again. It was strangely
exciting to watch that little pink thing dart in and out of her mouth
and all over the cookie. Lucky cookie.

Steven hardly noticed. "I can correct the color with this box I
have connected to my computer. I don't know how it works, but it

Zoe twirled and flared her skirt. She stopped and looked at me,
did her cookie thing, then twirled again. An impromptu game for my
amusement perhaps. She repeated the process over and over, each time
checking for my reaction.

Steven poured himself more coffee. "Pretty soon we'll just have to
toss the undeveloped film into a slot and pictures will come out the
other end. Pretty slick, huh?"

I was conscious of nodding. I think. Zoe had put her foot on the
coffee table and pulled her dress up and started to lick her knee the
same way she did when I first saw her at the mall. Except this time,
she watched me. Was she looking for astonishment? Was she looking
for my approval. She certainly didn't need that. Anything she did
was all right with me. Anything.

"Would you like to see my darkroom," Steven said?

"Umm... Sure. Yes. Fine. I'll just finish my coffee here." And
I started sipping as slowly as I could. I could see Zoe and see the
bud of a smile forming. She kissed her knee as if it was the face of
a passionate lover. I daydreamed my mouth to that spot. Could she
tell? Little brown chocolate marks played hide-and-seek on either
side of her mouth. Oh, how I wanted to lick them pink again.

Suddenly, the padding of anxious bare feet on wooden stairs broke
the magic. Peter, fresh from his shower, came bounding in. It was
hard to tell before, but under all that soccer garb and dirt was a
thin, handsome 12-year-old boy. His legs sported several small
bruises, the visible results of a so far unsuccessful soccer season.
All he wore was a pair of light blue Jockey briefs. And a frown.

He pushed Zoe's leg off the table. "I thought you were coming up."

"You thought wrong. I told you, I didn't want to now."

"Uh uh. You said that then. This is later."

"Well, I don't want to later, okay?"

"Not okay. C'mon. I want to."

I looked at Steven to see at what point he was going to intervene.
Apparently he had no intention of doing anything. I was about to say
something when Peter pushed Zoe hard.

"I said no!" There was not a hint of doubt in her voice.

"And I say, yes."

I knew this was trouble, but I was a stranger. A guest. I was
basically neutral. Powerless, at best. All I could do was watch as
Peter pushed Zoe around the living room, all the while trying to
steer her down the hall toward the stairs and his room. She just
wasn't going to let him get the better of her. But Peter was strong.
Thin, yes, but strong. Strong from playing soccer.

Peter was used to pushing and being pushed. He grabbed Zoe's arms
from behind her and forced her to bend over. "You give?"

"Never," as she backed into Peter and pushed him against the wall.
Possibly not the best thing to do under the circumstances. Peter
winced from the impact and let go of Zoe's arms. Zoe recovered and
started to run off but Peter was too quick. He stuck his foot out and
tripped her. Zoe crashed to the floor. Her dress flew up and Peter
was on top of her in a flash. Zoe sprawled out on her stomach. Peter
pinned her arms to the rug while he moved his body against hers. His
small but well-formed ass moved up and down rhythmically as he pushed
hard against Zoe's tiny bottom. She struggled to get out from under
him but he was just too powerful.

I looked at Steven, but he just sat there sipping his coffee. Was
this just a typical family afternoon at the Swift home? I looked at
Zoe and Peter on the floor. I was worried about her. Peter was
crazy. Was I really that horny when I was his age? Zoe's face was
turned toward me and I could see that it was all wet from tears. She
looked at me. Did she want me to help her? She looked away. She
knew I was powerless here.

Meanwhile, Peter had been trying to pull down his Jockeys. They
were nearly off but they were hung up on his hard cock. He turned
to one side, letting go of Zoe's arms for just a moment. It was long
enough. Already off balance, it was nothing for Zoe to flip Peter
off her and onto his back. He hit hard and Zoe stood up. She took
one step but then Peter grabbed her ankle. He clawed his way up her
leg until he could stand. He put his arm around her neck and bent her
over in a headlock.

I looked at Steven again, expecting him to do something now. But
still he was silent, accepting.

Peter dragged Zoe into the middle of the room. "Had enough

"I'm not doing it!"

"You don't have a choice anymore, pebble tits. Hear me, pebble

"Yes I do!" And she started pounding on Peter's back and sides.
This made Peter angry. He pulled Zoe down to the floor. Now she was
on her back and Peter was on top of her. She continued to fight him.
She started to roll over but Peter caught her leg. He slid his hand
all the way up under her dress, then rolled her onto her stomach. Zoe
reached way out and grabbed the leg of the sofa. She tried to pull
away, but Peter lay across her back. I could see his hand working
beneath her dress. He was palming and squeezing her. He pulled her
dress up over her head. I could see his hand had made its way into
her panties. Peter's hand moved back and forth and there was no doubt
he was fingering her hard.

Once again, Zoe was able to slip away and, once again, Peter caught
her ankle. She tried to kick him with her free foot, but he grabbed
that one and twisted her onto her back again. He pulled her toward
him, bunching up the rug under her. Now he yanked her dress all the
way up and straddled her, pinning her arms with his legs.

"That's enough!" screamed Steven.

Finally, I thought. What was it going to take? But I had to
force myself to remember, they're kids, just kids.

"He's not doing it."

"Peter, get off your cousin. Get off Zoe." He didn't budge.
"Didn't you hear me? Now!"

An imaged flashed across my consciousness. I remembered the
photograph. The one at the mall with Peter on top of the girl. Zoe.
My Zoe.

"Now, dammit!"

"All right, all right!" yelled Peter as he rolled to one side. He
stood up and straghtened his Jockeys. His face was flushed and I
couldn't help but notice the substantial bulge under his briefs. "I'm
gonna soak." And with that, he stomped out.

I turned to Steven. "Soak?"

"We have a spa. A hot tub. In the basement. It's one of those
fiberglass things. It's great for..." And he turned to look where
Peter had disappeared. "...relaxation. I'll make sure he's okay."
And he hurried after Peter.

Make sure he's okay! What about...? I turned to Zoe. She was
already sitting up, crossleged. She straightened her dress, carefully
delicately, like she was arranging a doll's clothes. She smoothed out
the fabric. She picked up the hem and pulled it over her knees. She
rubbed her shoulder where she had landed on the floor. She winced.
I wanted to rub it for her. I wanted to kiss the hurt away. I closed
my eyes and wished away the pain, the indignity.

When at last I opened them, Zoe was looking up at me. Her face
was still shiny from the tears. Her lips were parted slightly. Her
face was so sad. She stretched out one of her slender legs. Now she
stroked the smooth skin, all the while staring into my eyes. What was
she telling me? She looked down at her leg. She twisted it, first
one way, then the other. Her white sock was mashed down against her
shoe. She bent her leg and reached down to her sock. She pulled at
it halfheartedly, then let it go. She slid her palm along her leg,
and when it reached her knee, she bent her leg and rested her chin on
that precious knee. Her dress had slid down her leg, giving me a view
of the warm creamy skin that my fingers had trembled across only a
short while ago.

Zoe turned her head and rested her ear on her knee. A tear rolled
down her cheek. She sniffled and looked like she was about to burst
into tears. But, amazingly, she regained her composure. She sighed
deeply then turned her head toward me. Her head came up and she
looked deep into my eyes and said, "Please stay here tonight."

* * *

- 4 -

Even before I rounded the corner I could smell the chlorine. Or
bromine. Or whatever it is you put into those things. Steven led
the way. We stopped at a small closet and Steven pulled out a handful
of small white terrycloth towels. We walked past a little alcove with
a washer and dryer and then, there we were.

It was a tiny room with a tightly planked wood deck and benches all
around. Like a sauna. In the middle sat a large moulded fiberglass
spa. It looked large enough for at least four people, possibly six.
The only noise was the hum of a blower and the sound of bubbling
water. Despite the blower, the humidity was oppressive. I didn't
know much about houses, but I knew enough to believe that this one was
doomed if they kept pumping that much moisture into the air down here.

Steven walked to the far wall and switched on the stereo. Mozart
streamed into the room from everywhere.


I hadn't even noticed Peter. His head was all that was visible as
he sat plastered against one side of the spa. The surface of the
water foamed and bubbled around his head. I imagined a group of head-
hunters standing behind him, their big sticks stirring the water
around and around. Steam rose from everywhere and I thought, a few
carrots, some onions, a little seasoning. Turn up the temperature a
bit. It was a great scene, the one that floated through my head. It
was. Natives chanting. A string quartet doing great justice to
Wolfgang. The smell of dinner cooking in the big pot. And a fitting
end for an arrogant little bastard. Now, all we needed was a nice
Zinfandel and...

"Alan will be staying with us tonight. Peter, you'll stay in my

"How come I always..."

Steven held up his hand to silence his son. Peter thrashed at the
surface of the water. He glared at me. My popularity here just
dropped into the single digits. I tried to be the diplomat.
"Actually, I could sleep on the sofa in the..."

"No guest of ours is going to sleep on a couch." And that was the
end of the discussion.

Peter slid around so that now he was sitting with his back toward
us. I got the message. Steven placed the pile of towels on one of
the benches, then started to leave. He turned back and was about to
say something to Peter. He thought better, I guess. He turned to me.

"I have an appointment this evening. Would you mind watching the

I choked. I couldn't refuse his request. Not after all of the
hospitality I'd been shown. Still, there was Peter. I didn't trust
him. Zoe. I would stay anywhere with her, anytime. But Peter.
There was something about him. Mean, vicious, I don't know.

"Sure, I'd be happy to," I managed.

"Good. Now have a good soak. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Then he was gone. I looked toward Peter. He ignored me. I
thought, what could possibly happen in two hours? Well, let's see.
Cities have been destroyed and thousands of people killed in a few
seconds with nuclear weapons. Earthquakes, avalanches, tsunamis,
deadly bacteria spills, electrocution... I'm in big trouble here.

"I don't have a suit."


"A suit. I don't have a swimsuit," I said, hoping to make some
sort of contact with Peter.

Peter stood up. He was completely naked. No suit. Then he
returned to the bubbles. No suit. Okay. So I undressed. I placed
my clothes in a neat pile on one of the benches. I stood on the
deck. I gazed down at my feet, pale from the long winter. I looked
at the rest of my aging body. No competition for a healthy 12-year-
old boy, I thought. Well, perhaps some competition.

Peter watched me climb into the spa. When I was settled in, he
looked away. I was up to my neck, so to speak, in a warm, pleasant
galaxy of soothing water and massaging bubbles. My mind raced. I
tried to think of something to say to Peter. I tried to remember what
words I wanted to hear when I was that age. I couldn't remember
anymore. Maybe sports.

"How's the soccer going?"

Peter glared at me. "We haven't one a single game." Then he
looked away.

Damn. I forgot. Negative numbers. Now I'm into negative numbers.
That's okay. If they can work their way back on Jeopardy then so
can I. "Why do you think?"


"Your games. Why do you think you're losing all the time?"

"'Cause they're winning all the time. What do you think?"

Yep. Couldn't argue with that one. But at lest we're talking. I
inhaled to speak again but a noise outside the door drew my attention.
She floated around the corner Zoe. Still in her school dress, her
hair still tousled from her fight with Peter. She looked disappointed
to see Peter still in the spa.

She began with her dress. Slowly, deliberately, she undid each
button. From her neck to her waist where the buttons ended and the
skirt part began. One after the other. I looked at Peter. He was
watching me watch Zoe.

I steeled myself and said, "Doesn't your skin get wrinkled if you
stay in too long?"

He didn't say anything. He just stared at me. I was bigger,
stronger, smarter, wealthier, and he just cut me in half with that
look. I didn't like this boy.

I shifted my position so I could watch Zoe without turning my head
sideways. She pulled the dress from her shoulders, exposing the most
beautiful and delicate arms I've ever seen. She looked up at me and
smiled as the top of the dress fell to her waist. She didn't wear
a bra. There wasn't much there to hold up. But what was there was
excruciatingly beautiful. Her breasts, two broad, delicate mounds
that rose maybe an inch from her chest. On top of each was a shiny
pink saucer-shaped disk that extended out even further. And in the
center of each, a little dot of a nipple, now hard from rubbing
against the rough fabric of her dress.

Zoe undid the little belt and pushed the dress all the way to the
floor. It dropped in a heap, dead. She had killed it. The life she
gave it was gone. But now my eyes gazed on those exquisite legs,
rising from the deceased fabric. Zoe bent down and scratched her
ankle, pushing her white sock almost flat against her black shoe. Her
panties were tiny little things. Not tight. Not baggy. They moved
with her. As she stood up again, she dragged her hand up her leg,
over her hip, and stopped at her waist. She slid her fingers under
the elastic waistband of her panties and pushed them down over her
legs. One at a time, she removed each foot.

Zoe stood there, naked except for her shoes and socks. She picked
up her dress and walked to the wall. There was a hook there and she
had to stretch way up on her tiptoes to reach it. The heat from the
water and the sight of this beautiful young creature stretched out was
causing me to become lightheaded. I felt I was about to pass out.

"Are you coming in or not!" yelled Peter. Ah, the breaker of
bubbles. Peter was better than a cold shower.

I recovered. Zoe almost had the dress up to the hook. Her leg
muscles, slender and firm. Her tight little ass with its twin, almost
spherical cheeks. The creamy color of her perfect skin. If I died
right now, it all would have been worth it. With a tiny grunt, she
made it. The dress was safe. Zoe turned. It was the first time I
had seen her body. Completely. She pranced back to the bench. She
put one foot on it and began to unlace her shoe. Slowly,
deliberately, she untied the bow, then the knot. She slipped the shoe
off and changed legs. She repeated the operation on the other foot.
Now, only her socks remained. I became conscious that my cock was now
fully erect and that my hand had been drawn to it.

Did Zoe know the effect she was having on me? Would she care? She
crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. Oh how I wanted to
enfold her and keep her warm. She moved the tips of her fingers down
over her pink nipples, past her smooth tummy, and brought them
together over the smooth, shiny mound between her legs. She slipped
a single index finger into her slit for just a second. It seemed to
be an almost unconscious thing for her to do. The kind of thing a
child can get away with, but never a grownup. She looked up and
caught my eyes appreciating her. I guess it's just not possible to
look without looking. I was losing my sense of timing.

"C'mon, pebble tits. In or not?"

Somebody needs to slap this kid in the mouth. Zoe took off one
sock and threw it at Peter. It landed on his face. Great shot! I
bet Peter wished he could shoot soccer goals that well. Peter
immediately grabbed it and threw the now wet sock back at Zoe. It hit
her in the chest with a resounding slap.


"Ha!" and Peter seemed satisfied. Although you never really knew
with him, I was beginning to learn.

The sound of a car's engine starting close by drew all of our
attentions. Steven was off to his appointment. We were on our own.
I was on my own. Was Peter about to turn into Mr. Hyde now? I waited
for something to happen. I held my breath. I looked around.
Everything was the same as before. I watched as Zoe wound up to throw
her other sock at Peter. Oh no, I thought, the final provocation.
But she threw high and the breeze from the blower re-targeted the
missile. Before I knew it, I had a sock resting on my face. Peter
laughed as hard as he could.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," cried Zoe. And Peter laughed even harder.

Thank God, I thought. The ice had been broken. Now to most
people, the thought of having someone else's smelly sock resting on
their face is, well, you can imagine. But to me, the scent of any
part of the child who, only moments ago, wore this, this, ethereal
glove was the finest perfume. I drank it in. I reached up and drew
the sock across my face, pressing it against my skin. I looked at
Peter. Then at Zoe. She had her hands over her mouth. They both
looked at me for signs of anger. I laughed hard. Then they laughed.
We all laughed together. I tossed the sock back to Zoe. Peter
actually smiled at me. We splashed each other. Did he accept me
now? Why did I care?

Zoe was now completely naked as she walked to the edge of the spa.
She braced her hands against the edge and went up on her tiptoes. She
peered in. My cock was still hard but the bubbles and moving water
kept it hidden. Zoe dipped her hand into the water, She looked at me
and smiled.

"What does it take to get you in?" screeched Peter. "C'mon pebble

"Stop calling me that."

"Then get in."

"I'm getting. I'm getting."

And Zoe lifted her leg gracefully over the edge of the spa and
pierced the surface of the water with her toe. I followed that
beautiful leg as it slowly disappeared beneath the surface. As her
leg went in, Zoe turned her body toward me. Her legs were spread
apart as she prepared to swing her other leg over the edge. The
slit in her tiny mound opened wide giving me a priceless view of her
precious little cunt. Could she possibly know what she was doing to

Zoe now stood in the middle of the spa. The water came up to a
spot midway between her knees and her crotch and swirled all around
her. She looked at Peter, then at me. I think she was trying to
pick a place to sit down. Suddenly, Peter reached up and pulled her
down and toward him. Zoe lost her balance and splashed into the
water. Her legs went up into the air and her head went under. I was
about to reach out and rescue her when she bobbed to the surface.
She hit the water where Peter was, I suspect in hopes of hitting him.
Peter just laughed. Zoe wiggled away from his grip and found a seat
between us. For a moment, everything and everyone was calm.

"Quit it!" shouted Zoe. She glared at Peter.


"Just quit it!"

I could see Peter and he must be reaching out to Zoe under the
water. I could see that she was pushing his hand away over and over
again. He was relentless. With that much persistence, I can't
understand why his soccer team hasn't won any games.

I decided to try to help the situation. "Anybody know any good
songs?" The way they both looked at me. I felt like an unwanted
substitute teacher at the start of a school day. I'm losing ground

* * *

- 5 -

I gradually became conscious of the beads of perspiration sliding
down my forehead, over my nose, and dripping onto my lips. I licked
them. Salty. I felt like a fish, a freshwater species that had
somehow strayed into saltwater. Peter continued to annoy Zoe. Little
by little she slid closer to me, away from his probing fingers. He
was pushing her toward me and he didn't even know it. Ha!

Peter stretched out his legs. His toes broke the bubbling surface
just a few inches from Zoe. She slid closer still. I watched Peter's
face as one of his floating feet sank beneath the water. It was a
U-boat hunting a target. He focused on Zoe. She looked at him, then
down into the water. His foot must have found her because she
squealed and, as she did, she grabbed Peter's leg and yanked with all
her might. Zoe slid hard against my leg and Peter lost his seat. He
plunged under the water, sputtering all the way. I think he was
surprised that Zoe could, or would, pull him that hard. Zoe held his
foot high in the air. Peter was all the way under and couldn't get
his balance and couldn't get a grip on anything. With this
application of simple physics, Zoe controlled Peter's fate completely.

"Maybe he can't breathe." Did I actually say that?

Zoe shoved Peter's foot and the little wet kid surfaced, thrashing
about, gasping for air. He slipped and went under again, then stood
up boldly in the center of the spa.

"You're crazy!" he sputtered. "Crazy!"

Zoe didn't move. Her smooth leg was pressed tightly against mine.
Peter made a symbolic lunge at her. She grabbed on to me. She swung
her leg over mine and held on tight. My cock stiffened again. She
couldn't see it. Her leg was only inches away from it. I wanted to
pull her into my arms but I held back.

Peter sat down again, brushing the excess water from his face. He
glared at Zoe. He looked at me. Could he tell how aroused I was at
that moment? Probably not. I allowed my hand to come to rest on
Zoe's leg, the one she still had hooked over mine. The water, the
chemicals, the bubbles. I don't know. Maybe it was the combination.
The skin on Zoe's leg felt like electric silk. I found my fingers
grazing lightly over the surface of her flesh. I tried to move my
hand and arm in a way that didn't show above the water. Zoe didn't
move her leg. My fingers explored the shapes on her delicate little
knee, then down the front of her leg. Now back up again.

Peter's face had changed. No longer angry. No longer harsh. He
looked at Zoe. His eyes, sad and appealing.

"You could have asked," said Zoe. "You're always pulling me or
pushing me. You never ask."

"All right. I'm asking, okay?"

"Asking what?"

"C'mon, don't make me. Not in front of him."

I guessed I was the 'him' in this conversation. I had suddenly
become a third person in every way.

"All right," said Peter. "All right." He mustered his courage.
"Please. I'm asking, see? Please."

"Please what?" giggled Zoe.


"Please what?"

"Please..." He was struggling. "Please... come here."

That was it? 'Please come here.' That was all?

Zoe giggled again. "Well," she said with a smirk. "Since you are
asking..." And she pulled her arm from around my neck and slid away.
As she went, she slowly dragged her leg across mine, allowing my hand
to pass smoothly over her skin.

She moved across to Peter and knelt close in front of him. Peter
reached down around her waist. "Turn," he said. And with his hands
still on her slender waist, Zoe turned so her back was to him. Then
Peter pulled her toward him. They both looked at me, their little
faces quite serious. Was I supposed to look away? Was I supposed to
go away? It didn't seem to make any difference whether I stayed or
not. Zoe bent over slightly and put her hands on her knees. She
started to move slowly, rhythmically, up and down against Peter. The
same bubbles that hid me from them before, now reciprocated. But I
could imagine. I imagined Peter's hard little cock, stiff and
straight as a wooden broom handle. And I imagined that it fit nicely
in the tight space between Zoe's ass cheeks. And I imagined that Zoe
was caressing Peter's cock with her ass. And I imagined, no, I knew
that Peter was enjoying it. And I imagined myself in Peter's place.
And as I watched Zoe I focused on her face. She was strangely
serious. It was as if she had a job to do and she was doing it. I
began to rub my own stiff cock. I rubbed it in time to Zoe's
movements, pretending that my hand was some part of her. Any part of
her. Her ass, her hands, her lips, her breasts, her knees pressed
together, anything.

So I stroked myself. And I looked into Zoe's eyes, she into mine.
Peter slid his hands from Zoe's hips to her waist. He pulled her
closer and her hands came off her knees. She continued to move up and
down, faster now. I followed along. I could barely contain myself.
Peter slid his hands across her tummy and up to her chest. His hands
completely covered her little breasts. He palmed and squeezed them.

"Ow! Not so hard," cried Zoe. But Peter didn't care. He was
rubbing himself against Zoe now. Faster and faster and with more and
more force. Little noises came from his mouth. Zoe frowned and
winced from Peter's rough treatment. The incredible sight of these
children was carrying me beyond any control.

Then, suddenly, Peter pushed Zoe away. He turned her so she faced
him again and pushed her down.

"No!" she exclaimed. "Not under." Peter's face was pleading. He
was in agony. Good! Torture him, Zoe. Torture him. "I'm not going

"Then here," panted Peter. And he pulled Zoe next to him on the
fiberglass seat. He took her hand and forced it under the water.
From the motions of her arm and body, I could see that she was rubbing
his cock with her hand. I pretended it was her hand on my cock too.

Zoe watched Peter's face. Somehow she knew all about this. She
rubbed faster. Peter's look of anguish and his gradually arching back
said it all. He started to buck and twitch. Zoe rubbed faster.
Peter let out a loud moan, bucked again, then was still. He panted.
Zoe panted. She smiled at him. He shoved her away and stood up. His
cock was half-erect now and tremendously long. He rubbed it once or
twice, then climbed out of the spa. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it
around his waist, and without drying off, stormed out. I didn't know
what to say.

Zoe was dejected. She looked down at the water. "What about me?"
she cried. "What about me?"

My cock had gone limp, yet unsatisfied. I wanted to hug her. I
wanted to tell her it was all right. Everything was all right. I was
vaguely conscious of holding my arms open for her. She flew into
them. She climbed up on my legs, each of hers straddling mine. She
threw her arms around my neck. She didn't just cry, she wept. Her
little body heaved as the tears flowed. She pressed against me,
sending a warm stream of delight through my entire body.


I don't know how long we stayed that way, Zoe and I. Locked in a
loving embrace. I know that her tears gradually subsided. She had
slid herself so close against me that her tiny slit now rested against
my limp cock. But now it started to grow, responding to the sensuous
life pressing on me, flooding me with desire. My cock grew and grew
and there was nothing I could do to stop it. There was no way to keep
this precious child from feeling it, short of throwing her off me into
the middle of the spa. That would have been Peter's technique and I
wanted to do nothing that would be associated with him, not even

So I breathed slowly and deliberately and the fairy creature on me
came to life. She released her grip around my neck and sat upright.
She put her hands on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eyes.
The sound of the bubbles and the water was deafening. My cock was now
fully erect. Zoe's tiny slit was pressed hard against it. Could she
know? How could she not? Her legs were spread wide because of the
way she sat on my legs. I could feel her cunt and the slit, also
spread wide open, as it engulfed the base of my cock. It was warm,
warmer than the surrounding water, and slightly sticky.

Zoe looked down. She was trying to tell me she knew how I felt.

"He hurt me," she pouted. "Here." And she looked at her chest,
just to one side of her breast. I looked too and, yes, there were
reddish marks where Peter had grabbed her. "Look," she said, and
twisted herself slightly, bringing her breast within inches of my

"It doesn't look too bad," I managed to get out.

"It hurts."

I wanted to kiss her hurt and make it better, the way countless
hurts of children are always made better. But I knew that would be
a dangerous move. A move like that would send me, us, down a road
from which there could be no return. Then a miraculous thing

"Kiss it," she said.

My heart stopped. I saw gray. I recovered. "What?"

"Kiss it." she repeated. "My mother always kisses hurts. It
always makes them feel better. Always. Kiss it."

I was at the fork in the road. Each choice was a one-way street.
I knew the one I wanted to take. I knew the one I was supposed to
take. Maybe I was wrong, but I sensed attraction here. Me for Zoe.
Zoe for me. I wasn't a child. I couldn't remember. Was I misreading
her? She always fought against Peter, but often gave in. Did she
feel sorry for him, or did she really want what he offered? What did
she want from me? I knew what I wanted from her. I couldn't force
her, ever. I couldn't trick her. Oh, I could, but I would never,
ever. Not to her. Not to Zoe.

"Please," she cooed.

So I took the path, my path, and no looking back. I bent my head
forward and Zoe lifted herself up slightly and turned. The marks from
Peter's fingers were red but not too bad. They'd be gone by tomorrow.
Would I be given the credit for the miraculous healing that was about
to take place? I brought my lips to Zoe's skin, conscious of the tiny
breast only millimeters away. I can't remember if it was me or if it
was Zoe who closed the final distance, but my parted lips pressed
lightly against her hurt skin. She jumped a little. I looked up
into her eyes. She smiled at me. I don't know why, but I began to
lick her skin over the red marks. A lion licking its cub. Stupid
thought. Her skin was moist and slippery and I moved my open lips all
over the spot. Zoe threw her head back and let me do it. Again, my
tongue painted her skin.

I was astonished when, without warning, Zoe turned slightly. Was
it an accident? More like an accident of fate. I didn't move my head
at all. Instead, Zoe's turn brought her budding breast against my
lips. My tongue was out and her hard little dot of a nipple rubbed
across its sensitive tip. I looked up at her again, expecting anger.
Instead, I saw a smiling child who nodded once and pressed herself
even harder against my face. My tongue licked a narrow circle around
the smooth pink disk that now seemed swollen with desire. Zoe moved
herself back and forth across my lips. She pressed hard, much harder
than I would have thought felt good. I pursed my lips and sucked
lightly on the pink skin. I rubbed the little nipple with the tip of
my tongue.

I wanted to do so much more. My cock was about to explode. I
was ready to do anything for this beauty. Anything except listen to
the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Another splash with the
ice bucket of life. Steven was home.

Zoe turned her head around. She gave a deep sigh, then looked at
me. "You're staying over, right?"

"I'm staying. Yes." Only fast flowing lava could get me to leave
this house tonight.

Zoe bent down and kissed me quickly on the lips. She rose from my
legs very slowly. As she did, she dragged her cunt, still open, still
warm, all the way up my hard cock. She knew. Oh yes, she knew all
along exactly what I was feeling. This girl was definitely smart.

Zoe climbed out of the spa just as the sound of the front door
opening and closing broke the dreamy silence. Steven was in the
house. Mozart still played from the walls and Zoe moved like a
ballerina, and I wished I was made of white terrycloth.

Zoe retrieved her dress and panties. She spun around on one
pointed toe and waved at me. Then, with a toss of her head, she was
gone. I looked at the floor where she had stood. Water, her water,
covered the wood slats. Water that was on her, in her, all over her.
On the bench, her little black shoes sat, surrounded by two wet white
socks. They looked like they were waiting for a bus. And then there
were the sounds of a kitchen coming to life and the delicious smell
of cooking chicken drifted in on a breeze.

* * *

- 6 -

Steven was certainly not a five-star chef. Maybe three.
Definitely two. But the roast chicken was tender and moist and the
vegetables were... Well, it was a delicious meal. We all sat around
the same table, but we were all in our separate, protected worlds. It
was hard for me to reconcile my feelings of dislike for the demure
little 12-year-old boy who kept trying to force himself on Zoe.

Zoe. She scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes and held it in
front of her face. She studied the billowy white mound the same way
we used to look at clouds and find the shapes of things in them. She
parted her lips and allowed her tongue to worm its way out. It
caressed the top of the potatoes. She looked at me. Why was she
always so curious to know if I was watching her?

"I'm done," proclaimed Peter. "I'm going to my room."

"Peter. Wait 'til..." But Steven's words were lost as Peter
jumped up and raced out. Zoe didn't even glance in his direction.
Still locked on to my eyes, she let her tongue scoop up a tiny glob of
potato. She drew it part way into her mouth. Her tongue pressed the
little white bump against the bottom of her upper lip. She rubbed the
potatoes back and forth until they became creamy and wet. She pulled
her tongue all the way in and now rubbed her lips together. The
potatoes became wetter and creamier and they started to drip from her

Suddenly, she came to and scooped the wet mess around her lips into
her mouth. She smacked her lips loudly.

"Zoe," exclaimed Steven. "Manners."

Her eyes darted to Steven for an instant, then back to me. She
swept the remaining potatoes from the fork with her lips.

"Eat the lima beans."

"I hate them."

"They're good for you."

"They taste... weird."

"I'll get more milk," said Steven. He tossed his napkin on the
table and headed for the kitchen.

I looked at Zoe. She stared at her plate. She poked at the lima
beans with her fork. She started to arrange them in little rows. I
felt sorry for her. Sorry in so many ways. I reached out my hand
toward her.

"Give me your plate," I urged. She looked at me like I had two
asparagus stalks sticking out of my nostrils. "C'mon. I'll help."
So she passed me her plate, still not certain what I intended. I
heard the refrigerator door slam in the kitchen. Zoe looked quickly
in that direction. I scraped all but two beans onto my plate then
handed back her plate. She adjusted its position and stabbed one of
the limas with her fork just as Steven returned with a glass of cold

Steven set the glass in front of Zoe. He looked at her plate and
smiled. "See. That wasn't so bad now. Was it?"

As Steven took his seat, Zoe held up her fork. The little green
lima perched on the end of it. Steven sighed. "All right. You don't
have to finish them. You did fine."

I started to eat Zoe's lima beans. She watched me. I held up each
forkful for her to appreciate and she smiled at every one. She
giggled silently each time I slipped my fork into my mouth and
withdrew it clean. Watching her reaction, the way she pulled her
shoulders up to her neck, the knowing twinkle in her eyes, made the
beans the best I'd ever eaten.


Steven stirred the fire to life again. The heat from the fireplace
radiated into the room making everything warm. It was quite dark now
and I was beginning to wonder what was going to happen next. Steven
turned my way and pointed the poker at me.

"Zoe invited you, so you're welcome to stay."

"Thank you," I managed. I looked around. "If it's not a bother.
Is there enough room? I mean, bedrooms. Are there enough bedrooms?"

"We'll manage. We always do."

We always do. What did that mean? Steven hadn't smiled when he
confirmed Zoe's invitation. Was I no longer welcome? Had I somehow
behaved inappropriately? Were they, was he, expecting me to be a
certain kind of person? I wasn't sure what to say. But just then it
didn't matter any more. The slapping sound of tiny feet on wood grew
louder and louder. Zoe breezed in.

She wore frilly panties and a hip-length nightgown that was nicely
translucent. She danced around the room, arms outstretched. She
twirled around and around.

"Someone catch me. Hurry." And she started to fall backwards. I
got to my feet and was about to run to her, but Steven was there and
caught her just before she hit the floor. How could she be that
confident, that trusting? Steven hugged her and swung her around.
Her legs flew out. She squealed with delight. He set her down and
she walked like a drunken sailor over to the sofa where I was sitting.
She came around behind me and threw her arms around my neck.

"Can I call you Uncle Alan?"

I was surprised. I looked at Steven. He sat in what seemed to be
his chair and read a newspaper. He smiled and didn't seem to mind.

"That would be nice," I was able to choke out. Zoe squeezed my
neck harder and kissed the back of my head. Then she let go and
climbed onto the back of the sofa. She rode it like a horse.

"Is it time yet," Zoe asked Steven?

Steven looked at his watch. "Five minutes. I'll turn it on."

Steven walked to the TV set and brought it to life. Zoe turned to
me. "Wilson vs. Jones. Featherweight. I like featherweight the


"Featherweight. Boxing. Don't you like boxing? I absolutely
adore boxing."

So, did I tell her that violence was not particularly appealing to
me? Especially after watching the way Peter treated her. How could
this delicate, ethereal thing adore, she said adore, anything like

Zoe lay down along the top of the sofa, her head just touching my
shoulder. She turned so her cheek rested on the fabric and she could
see the TV screen.

"Where's Peter," asked Steven?

"Upstairs. Sulking. As usual," answered Zoe.

But now the TV screen flickered and the announcers and logos
confirmed what Zoe had said. This was the fight. A cable exclusive.
How exciting. The introductions, the cheers and boos, the
instructions, and the fight was underway. Zoe watched with a strange
fascination. Her eyes widened each time a punch landed on somebody.
I kept shifting my gaze from her, to the fight, and back to her.
Steven could have cared less. He was engrossed in his paper.

"Three fifty. How can they sell a lens like that for only three
fifty? I paid sixteen hundred for the same thing."

"What," I managed?

"Three fifty. Third-world manufacturing. Nowhere near the quality
but a quarter of the price. And no one knows any better. 'Til they
see the prints." And he read on, flipping to a new page.

On the TV, the fight continued. It was getting brutal. One
of the opponents was taking a real beating. But now my attention was
drawn to Zoe again. She was breathing hard. Her little ass was
squirming around. She had slipped her hand under her and down into
her panties. She was fingering herself as she watched the fight. The
fighting was turning her on. Really turning her on. She began to
moan lightly.

A round ended. She seemed disappointed. She would have been happy
to see the fight go on and on until one or both contenders collapsed.
I felt a mixture of anger and disappointment. Why was this beautiful
child so wrapped up in violence? Where did it come from? I wanted to
take her in my arms and kiss all the hate away.

Then he came downstairs. He wore only pajama bottoms. Dinner and
a brief rest did nothing to change Peter. He was still the same
arrogant little kid who first burst into the living room this
afternoon. He strode right over to Zoe as another round started on
the TV. He grabbed her legs and pulled her down the top of the sofa
toward him.

"Quit it!"

"Quit it. Quit it. Quit it," mimicked Peter. He thrust his hand
up under one of Zoe's panty legs, pushing her hand out of the way.
He began to finger her. She tried to pull away.

"Stop it!"

"Peter. Don't bug your cousin."

"You were waiting for me to come down. I know it."

"You don't know anything."

I inhaled to speak, but I had no idea what I was going to say.
But then Peter swung his leg over Zoe and, in an instant, was on top
of her. She squealed. She tried to buck him off but it only served
to get him even more excited. She tried to reach behind her and hit
him but couldn't turn far enough. Every move she made turned him on.

And once again I was powerless. Steven just sat there and read his
paper. I watched the fights. The one on TV. The one between Zoe
and Peter. Even through his pajamas, I could see that Peter had quite
an erection. He was rubbing himself along the tight crack in Zoe's
little ass, just like he did in the water. This time he made no
attempt at subtlety. Steven didn't seem to mind. I was confused.

I decided right then that I would somehow get her away from this
place. No matter what. I lived alone. I wasn't responsible to
anyone. I had nothing to lose, and Zoe had everything to gain.

"Yes!" I yelled and pounded the sofa with my fist. Peter,
startled, fell off Zoe and onto the sofa cushions. Everyone stopped
and looked at me. I was embarrassed. Zoe propped herself up on her
elbows. Her little nightgown had been pushed halfway up her back.
Her panties were damp from Peter's rubbing and clung to her ass. Yes,
I would rescue Zoe. I just had to pick my moment.

* * *


BREEZE -- cont'd

- 7 -

This was my first time upstairs in the Swift's home. The house
wasn't old enough to smell this musty, but it did. No doubt the steam
from the spa had something to do with it. Someone had made an attempt
at tasteful decoration. Only an attempt. The kindest thing I could
say was that everything was... functional. There was a single
bathroom, outside of whose closed door I now stood. Two bedrooms on
the right side of the hall and a third, a big one, down at the end.
Three people. Three bedrooms. Perfect for them, I thought. But I'm
number four. Where will I sleep?

I stared at the doors to each room, trying to guess who slept
where. The doors were all the same, not like the people who slept
behind them, hmm? But now the flush of the toilet, the slam of its
seat... I knew who was in there. And when the door flew open and
Peter rushed out, I complimented myself on how well I was beginning to
understand this family. He stopped at what must have been his room
and looked back at me. Then he entered the room.

I cleaned up and made myself ready for bed. I had no pajamas.
Steven had not offered to loan me a pair, so, well, underpants have
often worked in the past. He did loan me a toothbrush. And soap, and
a towel, and... well, everything I needed. No pajamas, though.

So now I walked down the hall with not even the slightest idea
where I was supposed to be headed. I passed the door where Peter
vanished and was nearly at the room at the end of the hall.

"He wants you in here," announced the twitchy 12-year-old.

I turned just as Peter came out, his arms embracing his pillow, his
blanket, his book. His book? He reads? He breezed past me and I
spun around. Peter disappeared into the big bedroom at the end of the
hall. That couldn't be Zoe's room. Steven wouldn't, couldn't put
those two together. So the little room next to Peter's must be hers.

I entered Peter's room and set my, Steven's, things on the bed. I
looked around. Definitely a boy's room. Soccer stuff all over. A
desk with school all over it. Magazines scattered across the bed. I
gathered up the magazines and piled them neatly on the desk. I sat on
the mattress. I bounced. I pushed on the top. I can survive one
night here. I removed my socks and shoes, my shirt. I stared at the
open door. Despite the events of the day, I was bored out of my mind.
I was obviously extra baggage here.

The sound of pounding bare feet and through the door stormed Peter.
He looked all around, then focused on his desk. He glared at me, then
rifled through the neat magazine pile I had just created. He selected
one edition of whatever, then pounded his way out.

Where was Steven? Where was Zoe? I was tired. Did I remember to
lock my car? Where was Zoe? I got up and looked through Peter's
magazines. Strange, otherworldly, fantasy. Strange. No humans in
any of the profusely illustrated stories. Hmmm. I looked out the
window. Black. I could feel the cool air pouring off the glass. The
room was hot. It felt good. I straightened the sheets on the bed.
Where was Zoe? Somewhere, a clock chimed. I counted. Ten bongs.
Ten o'clock. Where was Zoe?

So I left my sanctuary and entered the hallway. I listened. I
looked. Quiet. The door to the bedroom at the end of the hall was
closed. I walked toward it. The floor creaked under my bare feet.
I stopped and listened again. Nothing. I stopped just short of the
room I suspected was Zoe's. The door was ajar. Should I look in?
Would I disturb her special privacy if I did? What if she was hurt?
What if she was sick? I tried to find a reasonable excuse. 'Oh, I
just wanted to make sure you're all right.' Yes, that's the one.
That one usually works best. 'Just wanted to make sure.'

I pushed the door and it opened. I walked in. "I just wanted
to..." But the room was empty. This was indeed Zoe's room. Today's
dress was draped over a chair. The dress from the mall, the one that
brought me to this point, had been carefully hung on the knob of the
closet door. Her little black shoes. More clothes. All very neat.
But this was not her room. Oh, she slept here when she was not with
her mother. But this was not her room. Her touch was here, but it
didn't belong to her. I scanned the room for more signs of Zoe. Her
neat school work. The bag she carried her things in. Possibly her
outfit for school tomorrow, already laid out and waiting. A short,
pleated gray skirt, navy blue knee socks, and a bulky cream colored
sweater. This child had taste. I inhaled slowly, trying to find her
in the air, but a slight breeze from the window made the room smell
like oak and apple and birch, burning in a nearby fireplace.

I spotted her lace trimmed panties, the ones she wore this evening.
They sat flat on the edge of her bed. I looked around. I listened.
Then I walked to the bed. I knelt down and held my fingers above the
delicate fabric that only recently cradled her body. My hand hovered
in the air like some indecisive insect. I allowed the tips of my
fingers to graze the silky surface of the panties. I rubbed harder.
I could feel her wetness. Or was it Peter's? Damn! I smoothed out
the fabric, then bent over and brought my face to within inches of
that delicious underthing. My nose found the little section in the
middle that had been made round by the shape of her. I pressed my
nose into it and slowly inhaled her fragrance. I pursed my lips and
kissed the spot, still wet from her. From Zoe. I dreamed the panties
onto her delicate shape and felt her moving beneath me.

Somewhere a door opened and closed. I stood up like a jack-in-the-
box. I looked around and tried to think of a reasonable explanation
of why I was in here. 'I just wanted to make sure you're all right.'
It still sounds good. But no one came in. No one walked past the
open door. Now I was curious. So I tiptoed to the door and looked
each way, up and down the hall. No one. Nothing. And silence. I
walked as quietly as I could back to my room. Peter's room. But I
didn't go in. Instead, I turned around and walked slowly down the
entire length of the hallway. I stood in front of the door to the big
bedroom. I listened for sounds of life. Nothing. I debated. I
turned away, then back. I knocked, very lightly, almost not at all.
There was no response, so I knocked again, this time only a little
bit harder. Still nothing.

Then the sound. What was it? Sort of a clumping, or a clicking,
like someone gently tapping a wooden stick on the floor. It was
on the other side of the door and coming toward me. I involuntarily
took a half step backwards. I braced myself. The noise stopped. A
moment of fearful silence passed, then the door knob squeaked as it
slowly rotated counter clockwise. I held my breath. I focused on the
knob as the door creaked open, and when it had opened about a third of
the way, it stopped.

A tiny hand flowed over the edge of the door, pulling it open even
further. My gaze drifted from the hand, up the slender arm that grew
out of it, to a familiar little bump of a shoulder. I exhaled. My
eyes broke free. I looked at the half familiar face of a young girl
child, Zoe. But she had changed. Her hair had gone completely wild.
Her eyes were wet from crying. Her beautiful, full lips had been
plastered with lipstick and the red stuff had been smeared all around
her mouth. I gulped. I looked at the floor, and saw that she stood
in a pair of child-sized high heels. All she wore was lipstick and...
and those shoes.

My heart sank. I looked even closer and saw that there were
lipstick smears all around her tiny breasts. And on her legs and her
thighs. And, oh God, between her legs. She sniffled. Her eyes
wouldn't meet mine. I inhaled to speak, but she pulled back. Her way
of telling me that there was nothing I could do.

"C'mon, Zoe. Get back here."

Zoe turned her head and I followed her eyes as they pointed me to
the bed that stuck out from the wall. It looked to be a queen or a
double and sitting up in it, the source of the voice, was Peter. I
could see that his lips and face wore a good portion of what once
covered Zoe's mouth.

"C'mon," came the command. And now another figure walked into
view and stood on the far side of the bed. Steven sat down and swung
himself onto the sheets opposite his son. Zoe turned her head to me,
then turned away and started to walk back to the bed. She was oddly
skilled at maneuvering in high heels. As she left me standing there,
I watched Peter's face. He smiled at Zoe's approach and watched her
intently. Steven patted the sheet as if to say, 'Here. Here's where
you belong.' So Zoe reached the foot of the bed and climbed onto the
sheets. She crawled to the spot that Steven had patted moments before
and lay down on her back. Peter reached over and took one of her legs
in his hands, Steven took the other. They spread her legs wide and I
could see Steven's hand disappear between them. He stroked her gently
as Peter massaged her leg. Peter bent down and started to kiss Zoe on
the mouth. I couldn't see very well, but I knew what was happening.
I knew what was going to happen there tonight. And I wondered how
many other times this scene had been played out.

Peter kissed Zoe with increasing passion. He held her arms across
the pillow, way above her head. Steven continued to work his hand
between her legs. And they let me just stand there and watch. And I
did, and felt foolish and helpless in the doing. Peter broke off his
attack on Zoe's mouth long enough to look up at me. His face was wet
all over and Zoe's lipstick surrounded his open mouth. Then he
smiled. Not a smile of friendship. No, more like a smile of victory.
He didn't need a soccer win anymore.

I don't know why, but I pulled that door closed as fast as I could.
I retraced my steps back to my cell. I had learned a lot. I learned
that Steven was not the diminutive onlooker I thought he was. I
learned that Peter would always get his way. I learned that Zoe was
a little lady through and through, but was caught in some black hole
of submission. And I learned that I was being drawn into that black
hole too, differently, but I could feel the pull of gravity getting
stronger and stronger. I would fight it, I decided. As I promised
to unknowing ears earlier this evening, I would rescue the fair maiden
Zoe from these evil creatures. Somehow... I would.

* * *

- 8 -

Hours. Maybe only minutes. I couldn't tell. I lay on the bed in
Peter's room and listened. I tried to focus all of my attention down
the hall, past the door, and into the large bedroom. The one with
Steven and Peter. And Zoe. But the harder I tried, the more I became
aware of all the other house sounds. The furnace, cycling on and off.
The air rushing through the heating ducts. The clock's chime from
somewhere. I had yet to actually see this clock. An occasional hiss
as a car passed by outside. The floor as it creaked under my bed each
time I changed positions. And I changed positions often. I didn't
enjoy sleeping in my underpants. They were too tight for comfort in
bed. As I thought about it, I laughed out loud. Everyone else in
this family here was naked right now and I was worried about my

I decided to make a foray into the hallway and try to see if she
was all right. I swung off the bed. It creaked loudly and I realized
it was nearly impossible to sneak around anywhere in this house. I
peeked out past the edge of the door jamb. Empty and silent. I
stepped out into the middle of the hallway. Everything was shades of
blue-gray. I thought about what I would say if I was caught. 'I was
heading for the bathroom. I forgot which way it was.' Now only a
moron would seem credible giving a line like that, but I hoped that in
the stupor of half-sleep, I'd be believed. As it happened, my feeble
excuse wasn't needed.

It seemed like a nearly endless trek to the face of the door, but
finally, I stood before it. I held my breath and listened. Silence.
Very carefully, I pushed at the door with my index finger. The latch
was caught. It didn't move. I brought my body as close to the door
as possible and turned my head sideways, placing my ear against one of
the thin wood panels. This was the thinnest part and if I was going to
be able to hear anything, this was the spot. If Steven or Peter... or
Zoe opened the door at this moment, there was no reasonable excuse I
could offer for being there. I tried to think of something I might
say but I couldn't. My brain was swimming in a sea of confusion. I
wanted to hear noises in there. Moans, groans, the slapping sounds
bodies make when they work against each other. But then I didn't want
to hear a sound at all. Silence meant Zoe was being left alone. And
that's what I heard and I relaxed.

The clock chimed a single bong. One in the morning. She was
asleep. Should I take her away now? No. Steven and Peter would
surely waken and my plan would be at an end. Discovered. No, I would
have to wait for the perfect moment. So I tiptoed back to the bedroom
and stretched myself out. I tried to work out my plan for getting Zoe
away from her captors. I ran each scenario in my mind. There were
flaws in every one. I would never be an accomplished criminal. Too
timid or too smart or too stupid. I couldn't tell which. The furnace
started up again and the sound of air rushing from the opening in the
wall was all I could hear. My body felt unusually cool. I allowed my
hand to rub across my chest. I hadn't even noticed until that moment
that I was sweating profusely. The breeze flowing over me was
evaporating the film of perspiration and lulling me to sleep. As the
kaleidoscope of dream colors started to come alive behind my closed
eyelids, I slipped off my underpants and stretched out.


Through slits too tiny to allow focus, I began to be conscious of
a blue light. I forced my eyes open just enough to be able to focus
on the window. What was that bright light? Then I heard the chime of
the clock. I counted. Six bongs. It was morning but I felt like
only a thousandth of a second had passed. Then I was aware that I was
lying on my stomach. The air was warm, too warm. But it was that
warmth that allowed me to sleep unencumbered through the night. The
furnace came on again and warm air breezed across the bed. I inhaled
deeply and let the breath out slowly. I lay still. The morning was
quiet. I started to inhale again, but then heard a faint echo of
myself somewhere off in the distance. A tiny inhale and exhale, just
as if I was in some underground cavern-of-the-echoes. I held my
breath. I listened. There it went again. Then a little moan. I
knew that sound. My eyes darted around the room. Nothing. I
listened again. A sigh. Where? I propped myself up on my elbows and
turned toward the door. But what I saw... What I saw was Zoe and she
was lying on my bed, right next to me.

Zoe was asleep, on her back, completely naked. Instinctively, I
pulled away but then stopped, for the bed wasn't that wide. I
blinked. I looked at my door and saw it was closed. I looked around
the room. No, it was just us. Why was she here? Was it her idea or
was she sent here by Steven or Peter? I fought to blink the night
away from my eyes so I could see her more clearly. She slept so
peacefully. There were only the slightest visible traces of the
previous night's onslaught. Her head was turned toward me. I lay
down flat on the bed so I could look at her face. I slid down so our
eyes were level. Her lips were full, almost puffy, and parted
slightly so the two large front teeth that seem always to be prominent
in children were just visible. Almost imperceptible smears of the
lipstick she wore last night were all that remained around her mouth.
Her head moved slightly with each breath. Was she dreaming? Did she
dream of me at all?

Once again, I propped myself up on my elbows. I examined her
little body with my eyes. Her breasts were slightly swollen and there
were still traces of lipstick around them. I felt angry. My gaze
traveled down her tummy to that tiny mound between her legs. I had to
sit up to see more. Zoe's legs were together but I could see lipstick
marks around her tiny slit and on either side. There were streaks of
lipstick on her inner thighs.

Just then, she moved. I dropped down on the sheets as quickly as I
could. My face was level with hers once again. I became conscious of
that fact that I was stark naked. I listened for any activity
elsewhere in the house. Nothing. Zoe inhaled and let out an audible
sigh. Still on her back, she bent her knee and pulled her leg up so
that it leaned against my hip. Her hand found its way between her
legs. I craned my neck so I could see. Zoe was still asleep as her
index finger pressed into her little slit. She rubbed herself. She
rubbed the tip of that finger back and forth over her clit. She
pushed the finger into her cunt. I could see the finger each time she
withdrew it and it was wet. She moaned lightly. What delightful
dream engaged her this way? I was becoming aroused. I could feel my
cock swelling and pushing me up off the sheets.

Then, as abruptly as this episode started, it was over. Zoe sighed
and withdrew her hand. It flopped down on the bed by her face,
between us. I allowed my head to return to the sheets. Now Zoe's
hand was only inches away. Did I dare? Yes. I inched my face closer
and closer until I was nearly touching her hand. Her fingers were
curled and I lifted my head slightly, bringing my nose level with
those delectable fingers. And I inhaled Zoe's fragrance. The scent
that came from inside her, from between her legs. And it turned me on
beyond belief. I wanted to lick those fingers and taste her but I
felt certain I would wake her up if I did. I had to be content just
smelling that enticing aroma.

But I wasn't. I sat up slightly and leaned over her face. I
smelled her lips. I slid down and moved my face just above her warm
body and inhaled every inch of her. Her shoulders, her neck, her
breasts. And on her breasts I could smell the saliva of the previous
night's passion. Peter, Steven, who could tell. Now I moved further
down, over her tummy and down to the inviting mound between her legs,
now spread open by her bent leg. Her scent, propelled by the warmth
of her young body, overwhelmed me. I had the incredibly powerful urge
to press my face into her. But I held back. Why? Was I falling in
love with Zoe? Had I fallen in love with her already? Was there some
way I could become a child again? I moved my face over the rest of
her. Down those beautifully slender legs, the ones that drove me
crazy each time I saw them.

My nose had just passed over her knee when a noise in the hallway
broke the safe silence of the morning. I resumed my original place on
the bed, facing the window. Only Zoe's leg, still resting against me,
would suggest either of us might be aware of the other.

More sounds, louder, then Peter burst through the door. "So there
she is. We were wondering where she went."

No attempt to be quiet or considerate. Peter raced around his room
and dressed for school. He gathered up his soccer uniform and
equipment and stuffed it into his gym bag. He dropped a book on the
floor and Zoe moved but she didn't wake up. They must have put her
through a lot for her to be that tired.

"Hey, Zoe!" shouted Peter. "Zoe!" But she didn't budge.

Peter continued to clump around then, at last, he was ready. He
paused at the door and looked at us on the bed. He shook his head
then left. A moment, then he was back.

"She's gonna miss the bus." Then he was gone.

Now Steven, still naked, walked past the door. He stopped. He
looked in and smiled. "Peter said she was in here. She's going to
miss the bus." Then he headed for the bathroom. I sat up and tried
to cover my now limp cock with whatever sheets I could pull my way
without disturbing Zoe.

"If she misses the bus..." said Steven as he walked in, wiping his
face with a towel. "If she..." But then the unmistakable engine
sound and squeaking breaks of the school bus filled the air. I didn't
need to look, for the sounds, coupled with the bright yellow
reflection on the ceiling told the story. The bus motored away. Zoe
had missed it.

"Well," said Steven. I have an important meeting in half an hour.
I can't... Say, Alan. Would you mind driving Zoe to school? She has
an hour before she's late. I'd be..."

"I wouldn't mind a bit," I interrupted.


I stood at the window and watched Steven's car back out of the
driveway and disappear down West Hemlock Court. I looked at my car,
still there. I looked back at Zoe. She was still asleep. This was
my chance. My chance to get her away from here had just been dropped
into my lap. I looked down. I was still naked. I returned to the
bed and sat down. Zoe had turned on her side. I carefully placed my
hand on her shoulder and shook it. She roused from her sleep slowly,
dreamily. She rubbed her eyes. She opened them and looked into mine.
She smiled. She sat up, turned toward me, and threw her leg over my
hip. She pushed me down onto the bed and straddled me. The warmth
and the sensual way she moved caused my cock to become erect almost
immediately. She slid along my body until her face was level with

"Zoe," I said, "I want to talk to you about something."


"I want you to come with me."

"I have to go to school."

"No, I mean I want you to come with me, stay with me. Away from
here. Understand?"

"Why. I like it here."

"Like it?"

"I'm going to be late." And she looked around the room. She
listened. "I missed the bus, didn't I?"

"The bus. Yes, you did. You missed it. Stev... Uncle Steven
asked me to drive you to school, so..."

"Great! I'll get dressed."

"No. I mean, yes, but... I don't think you understand." How was I
going to put this properly? "I want you to come live with me.
Permanently. You see?"

And Zoe, still straddling me, propped herself up on her hands. "I
love you, Uncle Alan." I smiled. "But I have to go to school.
There's practice for the play today. And Peter has a soccer game. I
promised I'd watch. And you can't break a promise, right?"

I wanted to tell her that there are some promises that can be
broken, have to be broken. But I didn't. Instead, I watched Zoe
climb off of me and walk out. I sat there, dejected. A failure. I
was certain she'd jump at the chance to get away from here. What was
I missing?

A few moments went by, then Zoe called to me. "Uncle Alan!"

So I got up, put on my underpants, and walked to her room. Zoe sat
on her bed. She was still naked and now held a pink pair of panties
in one hand and white ones in the other.

"Pink or white?" she said, quite serious.

"I've always been partial to white," I said, not really knowing
what to say to her now.

"White," she replied and tossed the pink ones aside. And now, to
complete my torture, Zoe proceeded to dress in front of me. I
couldn't stand it. I rose to leave.

"Wait. Don't you want to watch?"

"Huh?" I managed.

"Watch. Don't you want to watch me?"


"Everyone else does. Don't you?"

Everyone? What did she mean? Just when I thought I was beginning
understand everyone here, something else happened. I didn't like being
in a constant state of confusion.

"What do you mean?" Boy, was I clever.

* * *

- 9 -

Zoe pushed me across the room and sat me in a large overstuffed
chair. She walked back to her bed and turned toward me. She smiled
and looked terribly pleased with herself. She picked up her panties,
the white ones I had selected, and slowly, carefully, gracefully
slipped first one foot and then the other through the openings. With
incredible sensuality, she pulled them slowly up her legs and seated
them around her hips. She smoothed them all over with her fingertips.
It was a striptease in reverse, but like none I could have imagined.

Next, she pulled first one, and then the other of her knitted navy
blue knee socks over each leg in turn. She folded over the tops so
that there was a small cuff just below her knee. She twirled for me.
I smiled, what else could I do. I had an incredible erection now,
hidden, well somewhat hidden, by my underpants. Now Zoe climbed into
her pleated gray skirt. It was short, stopping midway between her
crotch and her knees. And the last piece, her bulky white sweater,
was hoisted into the air over her head as she slid her arms into the
long sleeves. The sweater flowed over her head and draped about her,
resting lightly on her hips, hips that barely projected beyond the
rest of her.

"What do you think?" she bubbled as she twirled again.

"It's... you," was all I could muster.

Zoe retrieved her black laced shoes. She slipped her feet into
each one, then brought first one and then the other up to her chair to
tie them. It was the last shoe and her knee was bent. She rested her
chin on her knee as she worked to weave the laces into the required
bow. She looked at me. Then she did the thing that first turned me
on at the mall. She started to lick her knee. She licked it and
kissed it. She frowned.

"I can't get this bow!" she cried. "Help me."

So I got up out of my audience chair and went to help Zoe. I bent
over and started to tie her shoe. When I looked up, Zoe was looking
right at me. Her tongue was skating around the top of her knee and she
was smiling.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," she replied. Then, "Only... it feels nice."

"The laces?"

"No, silly. This." And she waved her tongue at me. "Wanna try

This felt like the beginning of phase two of my torture. I thought
there was nothing between us, but now... "What do you want me to do?"

"Lick where I lick," whispered Zoe.

So Zoe licked all over her bent knee. Then she moved her face away
and looked at me.

"Now you," she said and reached her hand out around the back of my
head. She pulled my face down to her knee. I could smell her saliva.
Her knee was still shiny wet. "Go ahead."

And I did. Zoe giggled as my tongue darted all over her knee.

"Now me," as she pushed me away. She licked over the saliva I had
left there. She started to breath harder. "Now you."

I licked again. Zoe's knee was getting wet.

"Now kiss it. Like this." And she french-kissed her knee all
over. "Now you."

So I kissed Zoe's knee the way she showed me and she was breathing
even harder now. So was I. And without pushing me away, Zoe started
kissing her knee alongside me. Both our mouths slid over the now
slick skin of her knee. Zoe started to pant. I was turned on too.
Her tongue darted out from her mouth and mine did the same. Our
tongues met and retreated and met again. Zoe grabbed the back of my
head and held it in place as she brought her tongue and her lips
against mine. Our heads came up and Zoe pressed her mouth against me.
Her mouth went completely inside mine and she rubbed her lips against
my teeth. I spread my teeth apart and our tongues fought a fierce
battle within our cheeks. Then Zoe broke away. She looked at me with
a look I didn't understand. She was serious, adult. She panted, as
she licked her lips. She smacked them.

"I have to be there by lunch time."

"Be there? Be where?"

"School. I have to be there by lunch."

"We have plenty of time to get you..."

"We'll have to be quick."

"We have over three..."

"You want me, don't you?"


"You want me. I could tell in the spa. Last night. You want me."

I was floored. Of course I wanted her. From the moment she bent
over at the mall and her dress caught on her hip I wanted her.


"I know. I can tell." Zoe looked around. She got up and walked
to the window. "He's gone. There's only us here now. I have to be
at school before lunch. You can tell them I was at the doctor's or
something. That's what Uncle Steven always does."

Uncle Steven always does that, huh? Something wasn't right here.
The problem was, I wanted this to happen. Zoe turned and smiled. She
had changed somehow. Or I had changed. I didn't know which. But it
didn't matter to me anymore. I was a boulder and I was already
rolling down the hill.

Zoe walked back to her bed and climbed up onto her chair. She
stood facing the wall.

"Careful," I said instinctively.

She turned toward me. She bent down and ran her hands slowly,
suggestively, up her leg, past the top of the knee sock, over her knee
and up her leg. She dragged her skirt up as she went until her hands
came to rest on her panties. Then she let the hem of her skirt drop
and repeated the process with the other leg. She held out her hand to

"Now you." Those words nearly made me pass out. I stood up and
both Zoe and I could see the bulge in my underpants and the wet spot
near the top that was growing larger by the moment.

As I closed the distance between us, I could feel my legs shake. I
was so incredibly excited. And now I stood only about a foot away
from the delicious child. Zoe put her hands on my shoulder. I looked
into her eyes. They sparkled. I could feel her hands as they pressed
on me and urged me on. I bent over and surrounded one of her ankles
with both hands. I slid my hands up her knee sock clad leg, massaging
her through the knitted fabric as I went. I loved the shape of her.

My hands reached the folded top of the sock and then skimmed over
it onto her bare knee. She was warm and smooth and soft. I let my
hands linger over her knee and my fingers explored the folds and
depressions all around the front and back. Then I moved my hands up
her leg. Zoe's skin became warmer and smoother. I moved my hands all
over her inner thigh. My fingertips first found the elastic of her
panties that covered her hip. I pressed on her skin and my fingers
slid beneath the elastic. I opened my hand and moved it in circles
over her hip, then back to her little ass cheek. It was firm and a
joy to touch. My other hand slid between her legs. It was warm,
almost hot. I positioned my hand so that my fingers extended between
her legs and my thumb now came to rest on the part of her panties that
covered her tiny mound. Zoe let out a little moan. I could feel that
little slit beneath the cloth. The panties were slightly moist there.
I pressed harder. Zoe moaned again. I moved my hand up and down
slowly, making sure my thumb pressed and rubbed over her slit.

Zoe started to squirm a bit. Sensing her and wanting to keep this
feeling going, I slid my thumb under the elastic and started to rub
the tiny slit of her cunt directly. I pressed by thumb in and out of
Zoe's slit. I found the little bump that was her clit. It was
surrounded by wet little folds of skin. I pressed on it lightly and
moved my thumb around and around. It became more and more slippery
the longer I rubbed it. Zoe started to twitch slightly.

Then, for no apparent reason, Zoe pushed me away. The elastic of
her panties snapped loudly as my hands were pulled free. I felt as
though someone had hit me over the head with a two-by-four. She
jumped to the floor and grabbed my hand. She walked me past the
window and glanced quickly outside. Seemingly satisfied, she pulled
me over to the bed. She jumped onto the sheets, giggling as she went.
She rolled onto her back and kicked her legs into the air. Her skirt
flew up and when it came down, it landed folded back on her chest,
exposing her legs and panties. She pulled her legs up and spread them
open, frogleg-style. She rubbed her hands over her crotch, now
clearly soaking wet.

"Love me," she panted. "Please."

I could feel my heart beating loud and hard. I wondered if Zoe
could hear it too. I looked out the window. It seemed to be the
thing to do. The street was empty. My car was still in the driveway.
We had the house to ourselves. I crawled over the foot of the bed
toward Zoe. Toward my love. She was looking into my eyes as she
stroked her cunt inside her panties. I crawled over her and bent
down. I began to kiss her panties, even as she continued to rub
herself. I kissed the fabric as her hand moved beneath it. Now I
reached up and took her arm and pulled her hand out. I pressed my
face against the soaking wet panties. I pursed my lips and pressed
the fabric into her slit. The aroma was intoxicating.

Zoe threw her hands over her head as I moved my face off her. She
moaned and I couldn't wait any longer. I pushed myself up and grabbed
her ankles, pulling her legs straight as I did. I slid my fingers
into the elastic waistband of her panties and pulled them from her,
down her legs, and over her shoes. I tossed them against the wall.
Now I spread her legs wide, back to the way she had them. I bent down
again, but this time I was greeted by her moist cunt lips, begging for
me. I started to lick all around the outer lips. I licked and licked
with a tongue I could barely control. Her skin became shiny wet with
my saliva. And the wetness mixed with everything that was still there
from her adventures of last night. I licked at the little smears of

Now my tongue found its way to the top of her slit. I pushed it in
and started to press it against her tiny clit. Zoe twitched each time
my tongue touched the little bump. She opened her legs even wider,
pulling the outer lips of her little cunt apart. I licked around her
clit and along each side of it, down into the slender caverns that
surrounded it. Zoe started to make little whimpering sounds. She
twitched her hips each time my tongue passed over the sensitive tip
of her clit. She had begun to perspire. So had I. Now I jabbed my
tongue in and out of her cunt, pushing it in as far as I possibly
could each time. The surface of Zoe's little mound was getting wetter
and slipperier each second.

I reached out and held the calves of her legs in my hands. I
straightened her legs and pushed them as far apart as I could. Zoe
let out a little cry. I looked up at her.

"You okay," I asked.

"Uh huh," she managed to mutter.

Zoe turned her head from side to side and arched her back so her
hips pushed up toward me, begging me to continue. So I did. And as
I licked and kissed and sucked at the child, her whimpers turned to
cries of ecstasy. I began to move my mouth all around between her
legs, stopping often at her slit and wildly licking her clit. My
mouth and all of the skin between Zoe's legs was now soaking wet.

Then, suddenly, I could see wave after wave of orgasm flow over
Zoe's tiny body. She grunted and bucked and I had a difficult time
keeping my mouth on her. Her legs went stiff. Her whole body went
stiff. Then it was over. Her head was turned to one side and she
panted as if she had just finished a marathon. I pushed myself up on
my hands and knees. I looked all around the room but couldn't see it.

Now Zoe turned toward me. She propped herself up on her elbows and
looked at me through hooded eyes. With her lips swollen from passion
and with the child's equivalent of a husky voice, she said, "Now me."

* * *

- 10 -

'Now me.' She said it. It wasn't my imagination. There was no
doubt what she meant. I sat back on my bent legs. I couldn't
remember when I had sat like that. It was years ago. I was probably
Zoe's age.

Zoe scampered off the bed and stood next to me. She put one hand
gently on my shoulder. She rested her cheek on the back of that hand
and slid her other hand across my underpants. Across the now soaking
wet fabric. Her fingers skated over the wetness and searched and
searched. My cock, hard and anxious from nearly a full day of
temptation, pressed against that wetness. Zoe had no trouble finding
it. Her fingers traced its shape. I watched them. They were
suddenly very tiny as they explored me with a child's enthusiasm.

I looked up, intending to watch her eyes guide her hand, but found
them staring into mine. Zoe looked too much like a little girl at
that moment. I was caught between tears and desire. I needed to
break one way or the other or else self-destruct. Right here. Right

Zoe made the choice for me. She moved her fingers up and over the
elastic of my briefs. She pushed hard on my stomach as she slid her
slender fingers beneath the fabric of my underpants. I gasped. But
she wasn't going to be distracted. She easily found my cock, still
soaking wet. Her fingers slid around it and she stroked me very, very
slowly. I was on the edge of a scream. Then she moved her hand up
and rolled her thumb over the head of my cock. It was slippery and
Zoe smiled.

"Me," she said. "My turn to do you."


"C'mon. I can make you feel good. I can," she said with a
delicate voice. "C'mon."

And Zoe nudged and pulled and directed me so that I lay down on her
bed. She reached over and grabbed onto the elastic of my briefs. I
helped her by wiggling a bit as she pulled them down my legs and over
my feet. My cock was red and swollen and huge when measured against
her tiny body. But it didn't seem to matter to her. She climbed onto
her bed and stood over me, one leg on either side of my chest. She
walked on the sheets with her shoes until I could feel the rough
leather tops come to rest against my arm pits. I instinctively
reached out and held onto her legs. The legs that held so much power
over me. And I felt them and they were still exquisite. I slid my
hands up as high as I could, past her knees and up to her thighs. I
could feel the sticky cool wetness. My wetness. From my lips and my

Now Zoe lowered herself down on me very slowly. Very carefully.
Her flared skirt hid the exact moment of contact, but it was as if a
warm hand reached over my cock. But I knew it wasn't a hand. I had
felt that same warm, wet, inviting glove last night in the spa. Now I
know it was a promise.

Zoe put her hands on my chest and began to move her cunt over my
cock. I wondered how she was able to move herself so precisely over
me. It was a feeling that nearly defies description. That little cup
of warm folded skin being manipulated on me by a 10-year-old girl in a
way that was forcing me to begin to lose consciousness. Her skirt hid
everything from my view but I knew what was happening. Oh, yes, I

Now Zoe started moving faster. She moved her hands down to the
sheets and I could feel her thin wrists pressing against the sides of
my rib cage. And she was looking straight at me. Into my eyes. Her
face was serious. Her lips were full with passion. Her cheeks were
beginning to show a slight flush. Now, as she worked herself back and
forth against me, she began to pant from the physical struggle.

I wanted this to go on forever, but I knew one or both of us would
collapse from exhaustion eventually. And besides, my cock was oozing
it's own lubrication that was now mixing with Zoe's.

As if she could read my mind, Zoe slid forward slightly so that all
her rubbing would be against the head of my cock. She was grunting
loudly now. For a moment I became concerned that someone would hear
us. But then I remembered how completely alone we both were. I
reached out and slid my hands up her legs, over her knees, and onto
her hips. I pressed her toward me. I started moving myself against
her, trying to time my moves with hers. She was quick. I couldn't
keep up with my body. It was as if her cunt was a hand, but like no
hand I had ever felt. I didn't want it to end now. Not like this. I
wanted more. I needed more. I arched my hips slightly. I wanted
Zoe to sense what I wanted. I couldn't bear to ask. Not this. Not
from her.

"Let me in," I whispered hoarsely. I was an idiot. I should have
let it happen or not. Foolish, foolish.

Zoe didn't hear me. Or she was ignoring me. "Please," I whispered.

Then I widened my gaze from Zoe's eyes to her whole face. I can't
describe her look, but I saw it change from the passion of a child to
the pity of the grownup she would someday become. I felt like a creep
and was willing to die right then. But Zoe saved me. You see, I was
only beginning to understand her. She could switch from an innocent
child to a worldly adult in a blink. And in that blink she smiled her
sly, twisted mouth smile and her eyes squinted. A squint designed to
hide the incredible sparkle they now gave off. She reached under her
dress. I watched but I couldn't see. I could only imagine. And I
imagined I felt her fingers press the head of my throbbing cock hard
into her swollen slit. And I imagined I felt her move her little hips
around to help what was obviously too large into a wet cavern that was
obviously too small.

She let out a little whimper as the head of my cock passed into
her. Fortunately, we were both dripping wet there. No pain, only
immense pleasure. I wanted Zoe to feel good too. How do you ask a
10-year-old if she likes doing this with a grownup?

Zoe moved her body up and down over me. She understood exactly how
far she could allow me to penetrate into her. I decided I wouldn't
interfere. This was her gift to me and I wouldn't do anything to make
it anything but her gift. It was clear that she was terribly aroused,
perhaps more than I. She kept staring at me, though. What was she
looking for in my face? Did she want to see what a grownup looked
like when he had an orgasm? She had to know that already. Was she
comparing me to Steven or, God forbid, Peter? Was she merely adding
to her library of passion?

It was a question that never would be answered. And now it didn't
matter. I was ready to explode. I was ready to explode into Zoe.
But I didn't want to inside of her. I tried to push her off, but her
own passion made her oblivious to what I was experiencing. I had to
give in. I couldn't hold back any longer. I was a hard, slippery
mass that was being pumped in and out of this child. Zoe was about to
give me an orgasm like no other I'd ever experienced.

I was on the very edge when I screamed at her, "No! Not in you!"

I pushed Zoe off me, toward my feet. But she bounced back as if
she were attached by some invisible rubber band. She grabbed my cock
and began to rub in, first with one hand, then the other. It was
dripping wet and she was having a hard time holding on.

"Don't stop," I panted. "Don't stop."

Zoe was breathing hard and uttered a little sound each time she let
out a breath. I could tell she wanted to make me feel good. And I
felt wonderful. She sensed the moment of my orgasm and rubbed me with
a vengeance. All of my arousal, all of my passion and yearning,
everything exploded from me. And, except for the uncontrollable
spasms that swept over me in a few seconds, I would have pulled away.
For Zoe had moved her face over me so her lips and mouth took the full
force of my ejaculations. I was surprised beyond belief. I was also
out of control. I loved and loathed what I saw. I wanted to be in
her. I wanted her in me. I wanted to protect her. And now an ocean
of translucent white dripped from her mouth, down her chin, and over
my still rigid cock.

She kissed the head of my cock. I jumped. It was that sensitive.
She crawled over my chest and propped herself up on her hands. Her
lush, full lips were covered in white. Her chin. Her cheeks. And
her eyes seemed sad somehow. But I was in love and I would do
anything for Zoe now. Anything. And I did. Because Zoe brought her
mouth down to mine and parted her lips and my own cum dripped from her
onto my lips and she kissed me. She pressed her tongue into my mouth.
She pressed her warm, panting body against me. She withdrew her
tongue and, with our lips still together, began to lick all around
between them. She lifted her head slightly and I could feel her
breath on my lips. She was waiting. For what? Then I knew. I
placed my hand on the back of her head and pressed her face against
mine. Her lips against mine. Now I pressed my tongue into her mouth.
It was so small. I moved my face against hers. My lips against her
lips. She moaned into me, over and over again. Her slender legs
gripped my waist. I massaged her with my hands.


We lay together, Zoe and I, for days. But when only ten minutes
had passed, Zoe pushed away from me and left the room. I brought my
hand to my face and discovered my cheeks and mouth were a sticky mess.
I sat up. I was wet all over between my legs. I swung myself around
and stood up, more wobbly than I ever remembered. I searched the room
and found my underpants waiting for me against the wall. They were
wet and sticky like me. I sat for perhaps a minute or two, trying to
force oxygen back up to my brain.

I carried my underpants in my hand as I left Zoe's room to search
for her. The house was silent. Then I heard the furnace come on and
the cool breeze from the air outlet in the hallway made me shiver. I
was wet and evaporating rapidly. The door to the bathroom was closed.
It would make sense now for her to wash before school.

My interest turned toward the bedroom at the end of the hall. The
one from which I was barred last night. Totally naked, I creaked my
way along the floor toward the closed door. As I had done the night
before, I pushed on the door with my finger. Unlike last night, the
door swung open. I paused and looked at as much as I could see from
the door frame. An ordinary room. I entered, expecting some sort of
wave of understanding to sweep over me. Nothing. Just a room. I
walked around, examining with my eyes everything I could see without
touching. Then I saw it. A large screen TV sat on a dresser. On the
TV was a video cassette. I looked closer and found a set of cables
that ran from the dresser and disappeared under the rug. I traced the
winding lump under the rug. It ended as two unused connectors by the
head of the bed.

I walked back to the dresser. There was the cassette, but no VCR.
This was not my home but I seemed to have lost all sense of propriety,
for I began to search the room for the recorder. I opened cabinets,
dresser drawers. I suppose my brain was still recovering.

"Underneath the TV," spoke a little voice.

I turned and Zoe was standing in the doorway. I was very conscious
that she was fully clothed and I was fully naked.

"It's part of the bottom," came her revelation. And she walked
past me to the TV. She pointed to a little slot just beneath the
picture tube. "There's one in already. I'm going to have some
cereal. Then you can take me. Just press 'play'." And she wheeled
around, flaring her skirt, showing off her legs, and vanished.

Totally captivated, I listened to her footsteps grow fainter. When
I was again in silence, I pushed 'play'. The TV came to life. First,
blackness. I walked to the foot of the bed and sat against it. And
now on the screen I was looking at this room, toward where I now sat.
I stood up automatically, then realized it was only a recording. But
before I could sit again, the image of young Peter walked into the
frame. He was naked. He climbed onto the bed and sat crosslegged.
He put his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. He smiled.
Now the camera panned and standing between the bed and the doorway
was Zoe. But not a Zoe I knew. She wore those high heels. I
remember them. And she wore a short, tight, black dress that fit her
like a glove. Her hair had been teased out full and the lipstick that
I knew as smears all over her body neatly cloaked her small, full
lips. She was a charmer from a sideshow I didn't understand.

* * *

- 11 -

I felt awkward as I watched the TV. Zoe was off getting cleaned
up for school and yet there she was right in front of me. And on
the screen she was even more attractive, more alluring, more...
everything. The eye of the camera can destroy a person's looks or
enhance them beyond belief. I was gazing at the enhancement of Zoe
and I was captivated.

She moved like a young woman, but her child's body, her innocent
face, the way she didn't know what to do with her hands, all the
things that made her Zoe screamed at me from behind the glass.

Now the camera panned again, just in time to catch Peter as he
jumped off the bed. He walked quickly over to Zoe. His long, slender
cock stuck straight out and bobbed up and down as he walked. Zoe
turned to face Peter but took a step back as he closed the distance.
The sound wasn't very good. The microphone was probably part of the
camera. Steven's voice could be heard as he whispered instructions.
Peter looked at the camera and his dad for direction. Zoe looked too.
There was an uncertain moment, then Peter stood behind Zoe. He took
her arms and pulled them behind her. I couldn't tell, but it seemed
as though he was putting her hands on his cock. Now he reached around
her from behind and ran his hands all over her dress. The little
creep was surprisingly sensual. He palmed and squeezed the tiny bumps
that were Zoe's breasts. He kissed her neck. She looked away from
his kisses.

The pair looked at the camera again. More instructions were
mumbled but I couldn't understand the words. Peter knelt down on the
floor behind Zoe, rubbing his hands over her as he went. Now he
massaged her legs from behind. I became angry. He was fondling my
Zoe. Mine! I wanted to strangle him. But he kept at it. Around
those slender calves. Up and all around her knees. Now his hands
moved higher. They disappeared under her dress. Zoe squirmed. More
instructions were shouted in a whisper. Zoe glared at the camera.
Peter backed away.

"I'm almost ready!" came Zoe's voice from down the hall.

I had to find out what happened here last night. I grabbed the
remote and stopped the video. I ran it forward. I started it again.
Now Zoe removed her dress, slowly, sensuously. Her face was flushed.
She was clearly embarrassed. Wearing only her panties and those high
heels, she walked nervously to the bed. I couldn't see Peter. Steven
walked into the frame. Peter must be the cameraman now. Steven's
cock was fully erect. He stroked it and said something to Zoe. She
started to remove her underpants. Steven said something else. She
wasn't taking them off fast enough, so he grabbed the elastic and
dragged them down her legs so fast she nearly lost her balance. Zoe
put her hands over her face.

Steven forced her to bend over the edge of the bed. I could make
out his order for her to spread her legs. She did, but again, not
enough. Steven got on his knees and spread Zoe's little legs wide
apart. Peter was obviously excited by this because the image on the
screen was shaking quite a bit.

Zoe grabbed hold of the sheets with both hands as Steven started
kissing her ass cheeks. He kissed and fondled them. I could see his
tongue moving all over her creamy skin. Zoe's face was turned toward
me. The smearing of the lipstick had already begun. Her eyes and
cheeks were wet from crying. The camera moved closer as Steven spread
Zoe's ass wide open and plunged his face into the crevice. His face
moved in circles and I could imagine he was plunging his tongue deep
into her. Zoe's hands were just visible and she squeezed the sheets

I forwarded the tape again. Now Zoe was on her back on the bed and
Peter was on top of her. One of Zoe's arms was at her side. She held
the other over her eyes. Peter had propped himself up on his arms and
was very busy working his cock in and out of Zoe's little cunt. He
was giving the little girl full thrusts of his slender shaft. Steven
moved the camera. I could see the lens zoom in. The camera was
substituting for my inquiring eyes but not for my growing rage.

Close between their legs, I could clearly see Peter's shiny wet
cock as it slid in and out of Zoe's creamy smooth and now shiny wet
cunt. The camera was close enough so that its microphone was picking
up the slapping sounds their thighs made as they hit. The wet sounds.
The sticky sounds. The sounds of sex. I envied Peter's energy. He
didn't miss a beat and seemed tireless. I admitted to myself that any
girl he fucked would be treated to a memorable experience.

Peter had all of the physical attributes that made him perfect for
Zoe. But he was a creep. He was selfish and mean and unfeeling. He
saw Zoe as a sex object and nothing more. I saw her as a loving,
caring person. Willing to put up with all this for... for what? I
still hadn't a clue.

Steven whispered for Zoe to turn her head toward the camera. She
shook her head 'no' but Steven persisted. She gave in. He told her
to take her hand away from her face. She did. He told Peter to look
at the camera too. I began to notice perspiration all over Peter's
body. He was working hard. Was it hard for him to have an orgasm or
was he trying to hold off? Did he want Zoe to enjoy it longer or was
he trying to prolong the video? These questions would go unanswered
forever. More instructions, but Zoe shook her head 'no.' The tone of
the commands became threatening. Zoe glared at the camera. She
looked up at Peter. She reached up and put her arms around him. She
pulled him to her. Now, as Peter writhed on top of Zoe, their lips
met. They French kissed over and over again. Peter's mouth, now
slippery wet, moved all over Zoe's. His tongue licked at her lips and
all around her mouth. He pulled his face away. Their lips were only
an inch apart. He thrust into her faster and faster. He gripped her
tighter and tighter. Now his face became a mirror of his exploding
orgasm. The curious expression of pain and pleasure rolled over
Peter's face like a wave crashing onto a tropical beach. Then it was

"Ready!" said Zoe's voice. I turned. She was standing in the
doorway, cleaned up, pert, buttoning her coat. I looked at the TV,
then at Zoe, then back to the screen. I pushed 'stop.'

I tried to explain why I was watching the video, but no words came
out when I spoke. Zoe didn't seem to care.

"You're not ready. I'm going to be late, you know."

She turned and raced down the hall. I heard her shoes on the
stairs. I pushed 'power' and padded across the rug. Nearly to the
door, my feet steped on what felt like a long stick. I nearly fell.
I looked down and saw that another slender lump wound its way beneath
the rug and disappeared under the wall. Another cable, perhaps.
Going where? No time now. Another mystery unsolved.


We drove along streets lined with leafless trees and flowerless
bushes. Everything was shades of gray and brown. Zoe alerted me when
it was time to turn here or turn there. I didn't even know there was
a school around here.

"I'm just going to make it," she admonished.

I kept stealing glances at Zoe as I drove. She sat next to me, but
we were separated by a drink holder, a storage box, the parking brake,
and the gear shift. And as I felt the cool winter breeze that blew
through my open vent window, I realized that we were separated by
much, much more.

Zoe looked out the window. "Turn right. Just before the bridge."

"Right," I managed.

Her whole body was covered with coats or dresses or knee socks or
gloves and shoes. Then, one of my glances caught Zoe square in the
eyes. She smiled. The next time I looked back, she had allowed her
coat to fall open. She had crossed her legs and had pulled her skirt
up. I looked into her eyes again. She looked at me, then away. She
kicked her leg in that sort of nervous way little girls do. How did
she know so much about me?

"There!" she screamed, as the low, modern 1950's sprawling brick
school complex slid around the corner. I drove into the driveway.
No one was around. I stopped and Zoe flipped the latch.

"I forgot about a note. Oh, God. I'm sorry. Do you..."

"It's okay. They're used to me here. Uncle Steven will take care
of it."

"I'll see you later then?" I asked.

But Zoe didn't answer. She got out of the car and walked into her
school. She didn't close the car door. She didn't look back. She
didn't answer my questions. She had an unnerving way of knowing
exactly when to say nothing.


My head spun as I drove toward my home. I squirmed in my seat. I
hadn't showered and the residue from my activities of the last...
God, it seemed like days, but it was less than a full day. Anyway,
the dried saliva and cum and sweat was beginning to make me itchy.
Also, my underpants were so wet that I decided not to wear them. I
supposed that my pants must have some wool in them. They felt all
prickly around my hips and thighs.

I turned on the radio but couldn't find any music I could listen
to. I felt hot so I rolled down the window all the way. The breeze
was icy, but it felt good.

Then I saw it. My house. My place of refuge. I was home.


I adjusted my stance so that the water from the shower head flowed
over my face and my whole body in a clinging film of warmth. I had
planned to stand there like that until I ran out of hot water. Then I
remembered that I had installed a new heater that didn't have a tank.
It heated the water as it flowed through. I would never run out of
hot water.

So I washed, rinsed, and washed and rinsed again. The soft towel
felt soothing as I rubbed myself dry. I wished I was rubbing Zoe with
that towel. I sprawled out on my bed and fell asleep planning our
escape. Zoe's and mine.

* * *

- 12 -

A bluish light filtered in through the drawn curtains. Dusk had
come. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. It was one of
those tiled ceilings, the ones with all the little holes everywhere.
I tried to find a pattern. I mean, some machine must have made the
holes. So there must be a pattern in there somewhere, evidence of the
underlying process. But I could find no pattern. Instead, my
thoughts drifted across town to West Hemlock Court. To Zoe. She
would be home now, nearly ready for dinner. Was Peter there? Did he
lose another soccer game? Steven never showed me his darkroom. Was
he taking pictures of Zoe or Peter or both? Did they ever leave her

I needed to plan. I needed to plan how to spirit Zoe away from her
misery. There would be one chance. The chance. I loved her. I had
to do this. Peter had soccer, either a game or practice or whatever.
Steven... Steven was away. He was away often. I had to get them,
him, to invite me back. Maybe I could invite them here. No, too
obvious. Zoe has to disappear without a trace. Perhaps I could
confide in her. She could run away from school. They wouldn't miss
her for at least an hour. We could be long gone by then. We'd change
our looks, our names, everything. No one would ever find us. And
she'd be safe. No pressure. No one hounding her to give up her body
to them. Just her and me. Zoe and me.

But now the room was getting lighter, not darker. I heard a
familiar 'thunk.' I was confused. I walked to the window and looked
out just in time to see the paper boy round the corner and disappear.
It was dawn not dusk! I had slept through the night.


I drove with a vengeance. It was nearly three and Zoe would be
getting home from school. I wanted to be there. I zigged and zagged.
I ran the Grand Prix of the Hemlocks. Then the noise. The siren.
The lights. My heart was pounding. I had just had sex with a
10-year-old girl yesterday.

I pulled over and my hands shook as I watched the police officer in
my side mirror. As he walked toward my car I could feel myself
sliding lower in my seat. He reached the car. I smiled. He tapped
on the glass. I rolled down the window.

"Bit of a hurry today, sir?"

My mind raced. "Was I..."

"Those big red signs with those big white letters. They're not
just roadside art, you know."

"I didn't..."

"You're lucky. School's lettin' out 'bout now. Could've been kids
walkin' here, sir."

"I'm sorry," was as creative as I could be. My hands shook. Could
he tell?

"Look... You seem like a decent enough kinda guy. I'm gonna let it
go this time. But I expect you to come to a complete stop at every
one of those big red signs from now on. Okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. Be safe now." And he shook has finger at me before walking
back to his car. I sat. He sat. What was the protocol here? Was he
waiting for me to drive off? I didn't want him to follow me. But if
I waited much longer, he would think something was wrong. God, did I
feel guilty. Guilty of everything.

What a relief! He started his engine and peeled out. He was gone
in a cloud of dust, oblivious to the admonitions he'd just given me.
But now I was late. I looked at my watch. Really late. I started
off again, my hands still trembling from the encounter.

I approached West Hemlock Court exactly as I had done before. This
time, however, I was late. The yellow school bus drove past me as I
rounded the corner. The noise of the kids in the bus passed like a
low flying airplane. Zoe was home already. I shamelessly drove into
the driveway. I walked to the door. I started to ring the doorbell,
then remembered. I knocked. No answer. But I wasn't concerned. I
had been through this before. I looked around. The neighborhood
seemed deserted. I knocked again. The door opened and I prepared to
greet Zoe. But Steven stood before me instead. He furrowed his brow.

"Didn't know you were going to leave."

"I dropped Zoe of at school this... yesterday morning."

"Yes. Right. Thanks," came a distracted reply.

Steven's mind was elsewhere. But it was not my concern.

"Say, Alan..."

"Yes," I said as I stood on the porch.

"Alan, would you mind picking up the kids. Zoe and Peter. Peter
has a game this afternoon. Zoe promised to root for him. I'm..."

"Sure. Fine. No problem. I'll just... I'll just go there now.
At the school, right?"

"The game's at school. That's right. And, Alan... Thank you. I
owe you on this one."

I sloughed off the promise and turned on my heel. I heard the door
close behind me. Then I was in my car and off, worried about whether
I could find that school again.


"Yes, ma'am. A low brick building."

"Like a school."

"Yes. Actually, it is a school."

"Around here, you say."

"Somewhere. I was there yesterday."

"Then you already know where it is."

"No. Someone was directing me."

"You should pay attention, young man."

I loved talking with anyone who referred to me as 'young.' So I
inhaled to regain my patience. This nice little gray haired woman was
trying to be helpful.

"Lots of children go there each day. Busses! Busses, you know,
the yellow ones. They go there. Perhaps you saw..."

"I know what a school is, young man."

"Yes, yes. Of course you do. Only... I'm a bit late, you see,

"Maple Drive."


"Must be Maple Drive. I've seen the busses. Maple Elementary
School. Yes, must be Maple Drive."

So she proceeded to give me overly elaborate directions. I'm
certain she had me covering much of the same ground over and over
again. I didn't care. I thanked her and was off again.

I turned. I drove around and around. I kept checking the time.
I was sure I was in the next state by now. Wait! There it was. The
old woman was right. This was probably how she got there. I didn't
really care. There was the school. The one from this morning. But
children were departing. The game must have ended. Damn! I was late

I drove up into the circular driveway. I stopped inches from the
spot where my Zoe had left me this morning. I ducked down to look out
the passenger window. No Zoe. No Peter.

A boy wearing the green and black soccer uniform of Peter's team
walked in my direction. He was laughing and joking with his friends.

"Excuse me!" I yelled. "Pardon, me! Young man!"

The boy looked around. I turned the ignition key to 'on' and
honked the horn. He jumped, then looked my way. He walked over to my
car and looked in the passenger window. A very unsafe move.

"Peter Swift. I'm supposed to pick him up here. Do you..."

"He's gone. Said he's gonna walk home."

"I see. What about a girl? Zoe. Zoe Fitzpatrick. She's his..."

"Both of'em. They went off together."

"I see. Which way did they go?"

He pointed and said, "He always walks through the woods. It's
shorter. I wouldn't bother him if I was you."

Another loss, I thought. "Lost again, huh?" I said, trying to seem

"Hell no! We won! First time this year. Only... Only we won
'cause he argued with the ref and the ref gave in. The other team's
really pissed. They yelled at Swift. Called him everything. I think
he's mad or somethin'. Anyways, I wouldn't mess with him right now."

I thanked the boy and drove off. He won. Peter's team won. What
an extraordinary event. I thought the kid was the definition of
creep, but I found myself smiling. Even creeps need a victory now and


I turned a corner and found myself on a street that paralleled the
woods. I drove slowly, trying not to run into anything. I craned my
neck. The street was deserted. I pulled to the side and stopped.
This was a hopeless task. Zoe and Peter were probably somewhere in
the middle of the woods and nearly home.

Then I heard the sounds, familiar sounds of children yelling.
Sounds of play and good times. They seemed to be coming from a place
around the corner. I released the brake and allowed my car to drift
silently along the edge of the road and around the corner. Then I saw
the source of the noise.

Deep in the woods, in a clearing that was visible only on a line
from where I stopped, I saw them. My heart started to pound. Nine or
ten members of the soccer team that lost were standing there. They
still wore their uniforms. Two boys held Zoe. The others had Peter.
Zoe struggled, but the boys held her. Peter yelled something. The
tallest boy, perhaps the team captain, stood away from the group that
held Peter. He pointed at Zoe. She shook her head. I debated the
wisdom of staying put versus running to help. I wanted them to be
safe but I didn't want to embarrass them.

In the blink of an eye, the tall boy punched Peter in the stomach.
Peter doubled over, but the other boys held him up. Zoe screamed
something at the boy. He laughed and punched Peter again. Now the
other boys forced Peter to the ground. They all held him down as the
tall boy now knelt down and started to punch Peter in his face. Now
another boy joined in and punched too. The two just kept punching and
punching at Peter's face. Even at this distance, I could hear the wet
slaps of fists on bloody skin. Zoe screamed and one of the boys
slapped her. I was frozen to the spot. This scene was taking place
entirely within the frame of my passenger seat window. It was like a
video gone wrong.

Peter was completely limp, but the boys kept punching his face.
The tall boy stood up. He wiped his hand on his shirt. He pointed
at Peter and said something. The others stood up. Peter lay
motionless on the ground. Now the tall boy pointed at Zoe. Zoe
shook her head. The tall boy laughed. All the boys began to cluster
around Zoe. She tried to run, but she couldn't break through the
circle of boys. Now Zoe was forced to the ground, kicking and
screaming. Except for the tall boy who stood and watched, all the
boys held her down. I wanted to run to her. I didn't know what kept
me in my seat. I became a detached voyeur.

The breeze moved the branches around, so my view of this scene was
often blocked. But I did see the tall boy as he pointed toward Zoe
again. There was a scuffle around her, then a hand reached high into
the air. Dangling from that hand were Zoe's panties. The hand waved
them around and around then tossed them away. Now the tall boy
pointed again. Zoe screamed. I could see that three or four boys
held on to her legs. They were spread wide apart. Zoe screamed again
and a hand rose up and slapped her across the face. She never made
another sound. The tall boy became serious and I could see him as he
undid his shorts. He dropped them to his ankles. Now he pulled his
underpants down as well. He crawled between Zoe's legs. I couldn't
see very well, but I knew what he was doing. I bit my lip hard. Why
did I just sit there? Even today, I still don't know. Maybe it was
the pure fascination of watching children play out their conflicts.
I don't know.

The boy wasn't really having sex with Zoe, I reasoned. He was just
masturbating inside her. That was it. Even as his little white ass
rose and fell with increasing speed, I knew there was no love. Only
rape. So he finished, and one by one each of the other boys began to
switch places and crawl between her legs and rub themselves into her.

The tall boy watched with detached satisfaction. Zoe had long
since stopped moving, stopped resisting. I think it was after the
third boy. I had lost track. She just lay there.

I saw Peter as he started to pull himself along the ground,
mounding up leaves and twigs in front of him as he went. The tall boy
saw him too. He strolled over to Peter. He watched him for a moment
then kicked him violently in the side. Peter stopped moving and the
boy started to walk away. He took two steps then returned to Peter.
He looked at him. There was no movement left in Peter, but the tall
boy must have seen or felt something. Or he was just mean. Because
he reared his leg back and kicked Peter with all his might. His shoe
landed right in Peter's face. I can still hear the sound today.

He seemed satisfied, then turned back to his teammates and Zoe.
The last boy had finished. They stood all around her. She lay
motionless, her legs still spread wide. Then the tall boy dropped his
shorts and underpants again. Unaided and unencumbered by resistance,
he penetrated the child again and again. The others cheered him on.

But now sirens could be heard approaching. Flashing lights moved
beyond the trees. There must have been another road, one I couldn't
see. Three police cars pulled up and the soccer team scattered,
leaving Zoe and Peter alone.

I was ashamed. I left my love alone to be tortured, to be
humiliated. Of course she would never know this. But I would.

* * *


It would be several days before Steven would learn that Peter
would suffer no permanent damage. His pride was wounded, but that was
all. Oh yes, he would have a small scar just above his eyebrow. Zoe
was a different story. Since the attack, she had become shy and
withdrawn. I was worried. I felt responsible. In my mind I was
completely responsible.

Steven visited Peter each day of the three days he stayed in the
hospital. I stayed away from their house, unsure of how to act around
them. But then Peter came home and I was invited to dinner and
everything seemed back to normal. Except Zoe remained quiet. Peter
laughed and confided that he willingly endured the beating just to
have seen the faces of the boys when they lost the soccer game. I
hadn't changed my opinion of Peter. I still thought he was a creep,
but I could detect something inside him, an inner something that
might someday help turn him into a decent young man.

Steven stirred the fire and told of Peter's adventures at the
hospital. We all sat in the living room, but we weren't together.
Suddenly, Peter jumped up and raced up the stairs to his room. The
sound of his door slamming shut echoed through the house. I looked
at Zoe. She sat on the sofa with her legs curled beneath her. She
was deeply involved in reading a copy of Stevenson's Kidnapped. Was
it mere coincidence that she had selected that book? Zoe was very,
very smart. Was she trying to send me a message?

I looked up at her. She was only one or two feet away. And she
was looking at me with that squinty look she often got. A hint of a
smile crossed her lips and she stroked her legs beneath her skirt.

"How about if I take Zoe to the Zoo tomorrow?" I blurted out.

Steven continued to stir the fire and said, "Tomorrow we're going
to the mall. You know the mall."

"Tomorrow is mall day," echoed Zoe with a voice that was faintly

"Yes, I know the mall," I managed. Of course I did.

I glanced at Zoe in time to see her look quickly at Steven, then at
me, then back to her book. My thoughts tumbled back to the moment my
eyes first touched her. I stared at Zoe on the sofa but I saw the
lithe child pirouetting on the tile floor and doing all the things
that made her the enchanting child she was.

I thought for a moment. "Then I probably shouldn't come over."

"Peter has another game," spoke the child.


"The day after," interjected Steven.


"So, yes, you're right. Probably not tomorrow."

Zoe looked at me, then at her book, then back to me. I felt our
lives were being woven together tighter and tighter as each moment
passed. Not tomorrow. It would have to be the next day.


I looked around my bedroom and tried to decide what to pack. The
small duffel bag I'd selected had only so much room. I planned to
leave enough space for whatever Zoe wanted to bring. She wouldn't
have the chance to stop at her real home, but she seemed to have
everything with her at the Swift's that she wanted.

Zoe was at the mall with Steven today, but by this time tomorrow,
she and I would be long gone. But to where? I thought about Mexico.
Or I heard Costa Rica is beautiful. Fiji. Tahiti. The image of Zoe,
her thin, deeply tanned body running across a tropical beach, began to
form before me. Laughing and wearing only an orchid in her long hair,
she would drop to her knees and hold out her open arms to me. And I
would run to her. And over and over again we would gradually form
ourselves into one person.

But right now I had to deal with my plan. Fearful of eventual
discovery, I put everything that could possibly be associated with me
into a plastic bag and walked it to the back of my house. I jammed it
into the large metal can that would be emptied by the refuse company
in exactly two days. They wouldn't investigate. No one would care.
And by the time anyone did, Zoe and I would have vanished from the
face of the Earth.

I paid all of my bills. I didn't pay or cancel the phone or the
electricity or such things. It would have been too obvious. I wanted
people to wonder, not search. I owned my tiny house and I regretted
letting it go, but Zoe was worth it. She was more than worth it. I
looked around. I was ready. Now I just had to wait one more day.
One more day.


I drove as carefully as I could, remembering to stop at every stop
sign. I wove my way along the circuitous path that was leading me to
my love. Peter had a soccer game today. Steven had said he would be
late. I checked my watch. Zoe's bus had probably already left her
school. I felt tingly all over. I drank in the delicious smells of
Winter as I edged my car down tree lined streets.

Then a thought jabbed me in the stomach. I couldn't just drive up
to Zoe's house. It would be too obvious. Someone would surely see
me... us. I decided to park several blocks away and walk the
remaining distance. I would pick her up. We would carry the very few
things she might want. It would look to anyone watching as though we
were out for a pleasant walk.

I glided to a stop along the curb. There were several cars parked
there so I wouldn't look out of place. Perfect! I looked around. I
checked my watch. Time to go. 'Zoe, I'm coming sweetheart.'


I hadn't walked this much since... I can't remember when,
actually. Even on foot, with its slowed sense of transition from
place to place, I knew where I was. In this short couple of days I
had mastered what apparently took most mailmen a month. I was walking
down the street known as Hemlock Place, my first encounter with the
Hemlocks. And I was an expert.

The weather had turned unexpectedly gray and cold. The winter that
had mostly left earlier in the week had returned. But I had the wind
at my back and the relentless breeze was pushing me on. And I had a
mission. Today, before Peter returned from his soccer game and before
Steven arrived, I planned to spirit Zoe away. She would willingly
accompany me. Anywhere. I was certain. I wouldn't kidnap her, she
would see the common sense in my plan, a plan I dared not reveal to
her before now.

Ah, there it was. Hemlock Way. Turn right up ahead, eleven
houses, then left onto West Hemlock Court. Then five houses more and
I'd be there.

Despite the angry sky, this was going to be a good day. My best
ever. And to herald my approach, the breeze disappeared. The gray
and brown leaves swirled at my feet, an escort. An escort to triumph.
Now a car, a station wagon, the kind with the printed woodgrain all
over came toward me. A single driver, a man, looked down, then up,
then all around. He slowed almost to a stop, then continued. I knew
that look. It used to be mine. Another lost Hemlockian. I prepared
to return the favor granted me by that anonymous woman earlier this
week, the one with too much shopping or too little bag. 'Yes, sir,'
I would proclaim. 'I am familiar with the Hemlock problem. I can
certainly assist you.'

But the station wagon passed me. I understood. There are some
things one must do on his own. No, wait. A screech of breaks. The
whine of reversed gears. The gagging smell of exhaust. 'I am at your
service,' I thought.

I coughed and looked up. I looked up just in time to see a bright
yellow school bus, Zoe's school bus, cross an intersection several
blocks away. Damn! I was late again.

The station wagon stopped next to me. The hum of an electric
motor was the loudest sound around, as the glass dropped out of sight.
A neatly dressed man several, no, many years my junior slid part way
over into the passenger seat and tilted his head. I waited.

"Excuse me," he urged. "I seem to be lost."

"This neighborhood tries the patience, doesn't it?" I replied,
trying to sound as knowledgeable as possible.

"Yes. Well, I'm trying to find an address. Wait a minute." And
he reached down between his pant legs and produced a crumpled piece of
brown wrapping paper. Ah, yes. "Here it is," he said and I prepared
to explain the mysteries of the Hemlocks. "3414 West Hemlock Court."

I could feel the muscle that was my heart begin to wither. "Pardon
me? What was that number?"

"3414 West Hemlock Court," he repeated. " Yes, that's it. 3414."

I held my now trembling hand out. He gave me the brown scrap and I
looked at it and, yes, the magic number was written on it. Clearly.
Not the engravings of an ill prepared voyeur, but a legible imprint.
I inhaled deeply. Tears began to fill the empty spaces around my
eyes. The breeze had come up again and my eyes started to sting. I
wiped them and returned the paper.

"I've been driving all around here and, well, some of the streets
seem to have the same names. I can't tell what's what anymore."

I looked around. I thought about Zoe. The image of her that first
caught my attention. "I'm afraid I don't know this neighborhood very
well," I lied.

The man looked dejected. And desperate. He slid back to the
driver's seat. As he did, I caught a glimpse of a rather expensive
looking camera between the seats. Well, I thought, at least Steven
will have someone to talk shop with. The man drove away and I watched
after him until he rounded a corner and was gone. But I knew he'd
eventually find the house.

So I started walking again. My car was behind me as so much else
was, but I didn't care. And now the breeze returned, but it was no
longer at my back. As I walked, it pushed against me with increasing
force and coldness. The leaves, the same kind that rushed across the
tiled floor of the mall and led my eyes to Zoe, now flew into my face.
And they smelled of dirt and mold and dampness. They stung as they
hit and some clung to my pants and coat. I brushed them away, but
more took their place.

I passed the turn I had earlier intended to take. There was no
point now. Because in a few minutes or a few hours or a few days, it
really didn't matter, someone else would be inhaling the quickly
evaporating childhood of that exquisite creature. Everything had
become too complex, too confusing. I was no longer confident that
Zoe needed or would want rescuing. I couldn't stand for her to tell
me to go away and leave her alone. For it is certainly true that
there is no rejection as powerful and long lasting as the rejection
given out by a child.

I had been drawn into the black hole and unceremoniously propelled
through and out the other side. I was in a different universe now and
I was just an ordinary star among all the other ordinary stars.

Perhaps I had expected too much. All I know is that, wherever I
am, I will wonder what she's doing, who she's with, is she all right.
And wherever I am, I will never quite be sure. Even now, I think I
can see her spinning around, flaring her skirt, exposing those
beautiful, slim legs of hers. The creamy skin, the slightly rumpled
white socks, the natural perfume of her, carried to me forever... on
a breeze.

Anonymous 21/02/06(Sat)08:03 No. 27173 ID: e201b6

Lots of MC stories


Anonymous 21/02/06(Sat)13:31 No. 27174 ID: e201b6

Piper's domain Home <https://www.asstr.org/~Piper/index.html> Writers
<https://www.asstr.org/~Piper/writers.html> Achievements


by danaume Rook <https://www.asstr.org/~Piper/xdx.html#danaumerook>

g; mf; Mdom; oral; anal; tf; ws; caution

It was a fairly crisp autumn day, with the leaves falling slowly in the
still air from the trees, like oversized red and gold snowflakes. It
was, by far, her favorite time of the year... well, except for going
back to school. It wasn't that school was hard, it was just that it was
tedious and frustrating, spending all day in a room with some of her
best friends without being able to talk with them or do anything fun.

Still, the school day was over, and Heather was once again on her way
home, walking down the sidewalk through the fresh fallen leaves. School
cutbacks meant fewer bus stops, which in turn meant that Heather was
once again walking home on her own, from a stop five blocks from the
apartment building she lived in with her mother.

She was dressed for the autumn weather, wearing a pair of dark blue
denim jeans that hugged her skinny legs, embroidered with golden thread
to form flowers up the outsides of her thighs and along the back
pockets, worn tight enough to hug her heart shaped rump in a trendy
fashion. Her small feet were wrapped up in fluffy white socks and black
deck shoes with white soles that were dusted with purple glitter. Above
her jeans she wore a soft violet-purple baby-doll t-shirt, with a large
'˜hello-kitten face' knock-off decal across her still flat chest. She had
a down filled ski-jacket in pink and white panels that looked cute, but
was overkill for the weather, and a pair of gloves that were currently
tucked into her jacket pockets. Her backpack was slung over one
shoulder, holding a few books, her binder, and the homework that she
needed to do before she could catch the city bus to the mall to hang out
with her friends.

Heather was twelve years old, and trailed the other girls in her class
for development. Her hips were barely starting to show curves and stop
looking boyish, but her chest was still completely flat save for a pair
of perky nipples that forced her to wear slips, even under t-shirts, if
she wanted to keep them from showing at the slightest chill or stray
thought. Her mother called it a 'super-models' build, but Heather knew
she wasn't super-model beautiful, just girlishly cute. It didn't help
that her mother had huge breasts and a figure that made men constantly
hit on her whenever they were out together.

Her skin was pale, which meant freckles and sunburns in the summer. Her
skin was so creamy white that the one time she tried to spray tan to fit
in, she ended up looking like an orange for a whole week. Her eyes were
a mottled green and blue that seemed to change with the weather, no
matter how much she wished they would settle on one color or the other,
and her hair was naturally almost platinum blonde, quick to green if she
ever swam in a chlorinated pool.

She rounded the last street corner before the apartment buildings,
walking a path she had walked hundreds of times before, her mind
flitting between concerns over her body and its slow blossoming, and the
boys in class who she thought were cute, but too immature to be worth
her time... it didn't help that they were all focused on Mindy Strauss,
the '˜boob job brunette' who's chest went from a-cup to amazing over one
summer break.

She stepped to the innermost edge of the sidewalk to dodge a parked
repair van that was up on the curb, only to have every parent's worst
nightmare happen. A gloved hand pressed a damp rag over her mouth and
nose as another grabbed her around the stomach. She felt herself lifted
off the ground and started kicking reflexively to try to get free,
squirming and thrashing.

Her backpack was her salvation, slipping to the side in the man's grip
and loosening his hold on her just enough that she dropped out of his
arms and to the ground. She gasped for the clean air and started to push
herself forward, trying to get to her feet and get enough of a breath to

Heather heard a deep male voice grunt a curse behind her, and then felt
something hard and plastic push against the curve of her ass. What
followed was much less pleasant than the chloroform rag, as three
hundred kilovolts of electricity surged through her jeans and the
panties beneath to cause every muscle in her body to spasm and lock up,
dropping her to the ground with barely a gasped whimper.

Her eyes watered and hazed on the edge of consciousness as a pair of men
grabbed her from the street and roughly tossed her limp and unresponsive
body into the van. They followed behind and closed the side door, and
she heard the van start up and begin to drive off. One of the men then
pulled the cap off of a prepared hypodermic needle and pushed it into
her neck, depressing the plunger to push whatever drug was inside into
Heather's body. Within seconds there was nothing but timeless darkness
for Heather. All her parents and the police found at the scene was her
backpack, one strap torn and the contents spilled across the sidewalk.
There were no other clues.

Heather woke up slowly from whatever drug she had been injected with,
her body feeling sore and stiff. Her jaw ached, as did her ass, and it
took several minutes to even be able to open her eyes without feeling
dizzy and sick.

She was mostly naked, she could tell from the chill in the air, causing
goosebumps across her arms and legs, and making her nipples pucker tight
and hard in the chill, aching slightly. Her mouth was held open by some
sort of padded ring that stretched her jaw to the limit, and was locked
around her head by a set of straps across her cheeks. She could feel
something wrapped around her waist and running between her legs, hard
like molded plastic or metal, and soon discovered that her wrists were
bound to the waist belt by short lengths of chain on either side
attached to cuffs of a matching material.

Once her eyes were open and she could see, Heather looked around the
room in distress, trying to find any chance of escape as the memories of
her abduction slowly pieced back together through her drug and
electricity addled mind.

The room was a perfect cube, ten feet to a side, with three featureless
walls in a '˜hospital' cream hue. The fourth wall had two clear plastic
panels built into it, each a foot across and three feet tall. Each panel
revealed a small hollow that held a small tablet monitor at its base and
a clear tank above it. These panels were each three feet off the floor,
and apparently built seamlessly into the otherwise cream wall. beneath
each panel hung a flesh toned and very lifelike replica of male genitals
that made Heather blush and groan in fear.

The panel on the left had a flaccid faux-penis hanging from the wall,
complete with veins, wrinkled skin, and exposed crowned glands, looking
as real as anything Heather had ever seen in photographs on the
internet. The panel on the right had an erect faux-penis, jutting
straight out from the wall, with bulging veins and taut skin, and a
bulging crowned glands. both were clearly of adult size.

The floor was the same cream color as the walls, but was uneven, its
surface tilted towards three drains, one under each of the protrusions
from the wall, and another in the far corner. Though somewhat slick, the
floor was padded beneath her, as though made of some sort of stiff foam
or rubber. The ceiling had four recessed pod-lights that provided a soft
and warm glow to the room that did not match the chilly air, and a
mirrored dome at each corner that looked like shopping mall security

Heather couldn't see a doorway in any of the walls, or any other method
of getting in or out of the room. She struggled to her feet, having to
roll to her belly and pull her legs beneath her to manage, with her
hands bound at her sides. She was suddenly thankful for the smooth
floor, as any textured grip on the floor would have scraped her chest
and knees horribly in the process. Once seated, she looked down at
herself, taking in the sleek, black, hard plastic '˜panty' that hugged
her hips and crotch like a thong. It was molded to her flesh tightly
enough to even have a camel toe. Worse, despite being unable to see it,
she could feel something long and thick pushed up into her butt.

She stood and approached one of the panels in the wall, looking at it
through the light to try to see her reflection. Her hair was gone,
trimmed down to just a downy fuzz on her scalp, but that barely
registered amidst everything else. She could see that the straps holding
the ring in her mouth were buckled and padlocked behind her head, and
despite how dry her mouth felt, a strand of drool was already leaking
out over her lower lip. The '˜panty' was also padlocked in the back, and
she felt that the padlocking was rather stupid, as her hands could
barely move three inches from either hip, so she couldn't reach the
padlocks if her life depended on it. Her reflection looked as miserable
as she felt, and she found that depressing.

'Eellf, anfiee onn?' she cried out past the ring in her mouth, the words
unintelligible to her own ears, resulting in a sobbing scream after that
in frustration and fear.

The room remained silent in the wake of her noises, the only sounds that
reached her ears being the ones she made herself, but the room did
respond in other ways. The two tablet monitors built into the bottoms of
the plastic panels sparked to life, each displaying a blue screen with
white text.

Heather gave a startled yelp at the silent change, and immediately felt
stupid for it. She looked between the two screens, and then read the one
on the left.


Heather groaned at that and looked to the screen on the right, above the
erect penis.



Heather looked to the tanks in the recesses in the walls on either side,
noting that the one on the left was filled with some sort of
amber-yellowish fluid, and the one on the right was filled with some
sort of milky white fluid. She wasn't an idiot, the symbolism wasn't
lost. Piss and cum... they expected her to drink and eat piss and cum.

She dropped to her knees and started to sob, tears flowing from her eyes
as everything sunk in. The realization of what she had to do to survive
bringing out an emotional torrent that lasted for what felt like hours.

There was no way to tell. There was no clock in the room, and the
lighting stayed consistent. Once Heather had cried to the limits of her
ability, she passed out in the warm glow and cold air, and when she woke
later, nothing had changed. Nothing about the room anyway. With her
mouth held open, every breath wicked moisture from her body into the
room, and her drooling saliva carried away more.

She was hungry, and she was thirsty, and there was only one solution to
either. She thought back to the medical dramas and island survival
reality television she had watched. Under ideal conditions, a person
could last three days without water, but these weren't ideal conditions,
and she had no idea how long she had been there, but she knew that she
was very thirsty. Her lips were chapped and even her eyes felt dry and
scratchy, though that could have been from all the crying.

She stared at the screen above the flaccid dildo, her body trembling as
she weighed her options. She could suck piss from a dildo, or she could
die of dehydration. It didn't take long for the tears to start up again.
She held out as long as she could, but she knew it was inevitable.
Eventually she found herself sinking to her knees before the limp
silicone dick, groaning as she leaned forward and took the head of it
into her mouth. She could barely close her lips around it past the ring
in her mouth.

As soon as her lips were past the head of the dildo, she felt and heard
a hum between her legs, gasping around the cock in her mouth as those
vibrations assaulted her sex, making her thighs press shut and her arms
jerk in surprise. That gasp faded into a moan as her body shuddered from
the pleasure the vibrations sent through her loins. It took her several
minutes to catch her breath enough to suckle softly at the item in her

The reaction was almost immediate, as fluid splashed into her mouth. She
could see bubbles rising through the tank as her mouth filled. It was
slightly hotter than the inside of her mouth, but wasn't the salty and
acrid fluid she feared, instead she found it to be some kind of apple
cider. despite the surprisingly palatable taste, the rush of fluid was
more than she was ready for. Nearly a full pint of cider sprayed in a
steady stream into her mouth, and she was only able to swallow about
half of it before the remainder splashed out of her mouth. She dropped
her head to cough, some of the remaining cider splashing across her face.

The moment the cider reached the drain between her knees, she felt a
hard shock of electricity flow through her loins, replacing that
pleasant vibration with punishment for spilling. She cried out through
the ring in her mouth as her body jerked again and again from shock
after shock. Ten in all, one after another with only a full second
between each to recover. She coughed and shuddered, falling to her side
on the floor, panting for breath and feeling miserable. The worst part
was that the amount of liquid she had been able to swallow wasn't enough
to sate her thirst. She knew that she would need to do it again.

After waiting several minutes for her body to recover from the choking
and the shocks to her nethers, Heather sat up and glared at the flaccid
penis jutting from the wall. Her mouth was damp from the fluids, but
still felt dry, unrecovered thanks to still being dehydrated. She let
out a groan and leaned forward again, wrapping her lips once more around
the head of that offensive spigot. The vibrations against her sex
started again, making her eyes squeeze shut and her brows knit. She
wanted to sob, but there was no time to do so.

Heather once again felt the cider begin splashing into her mouth in that
heavy stream, it wasn't that much liquid, and she was effectively
sucking it through a straw of sorts, but there was no pause to swallow,
no pause to catch a breath, it just kept flowing. She managed to drink
more this time before her mouth overflowed, but she still couldn't stop
some from splashing into the drain.

That shock to her loins came again, bolts of punishing agony starting in
the plug pressed up her ass and surging forward toward the source of
that ceased teasing pleasure. Ten hard shocks, one after another, just
as before. Punishment for failing to swallow. It took Heather six more
attempts before she was able to swallow all that the infernal device
forced on her, though she spread the attempts out over time as the cider
slowly filled the void and rehydrated her body.

Of course, this brought two problems for Heather. The first was that her
salivary glands were back up to full production, and she was drooling
horribly, which she found humiliating and uncomfortable. The second was
that her own bladder was achingly full.

She tried to call out for help, but her words were still as
unintelligible as they had been the first time. She tried to pull the
plastic panty locked around her hips off, but it wouldn't budge. In the
end, the pain in her kidneys and belly forced her to simply squat over
the far drain and relieve herself through the panty.

Heather had expected a terrible mess from the process, but was a little
stunned to discover that the panty seemed to have a drain in its base,
down where she couldn't actually see, as the urine escaped her in a long
and relatively mess free stream, though some splatter upon her feet and
ankles occurred, making her face contort in displeasure.

Without a sense of time, Heather had no idea how long she had been in
the room. She slept when she got tired, and drank from the humiliating
tap when thirsty. Eventually the tank emptied of cider, and as she
watched, the hollow behind the plastic panel rotated, swapping out one
tank for another. Lemonade, served warm like the cider. After that came
tea, then hot and flat Mountain dew, then just hot water with food
coloring in it to render it yellow. The symbolism was always there,
yellow to amber hue, body hot, and delivered from a dick.

There was plenty to drink, but her body wasn't satisfied with fluids
alone. Even with her belly full to bursting with the liquids, her tummy
still gurgled and grumbled at her, wanting sustenance. She needed to
eat, and that meant turning to the other device.

Her first try at the device was tentative and nervous. She slid her
mouth over the erect phallus, finding the ring barely wide enough to
allow it to pass. It was easily seven or eight inches in length, and her
little mouth could only take about three inches before she felt her
throat clench as she neared her gag reflex.

She drew off the erect cock and looked at it, her saliva now making the
tip glisten. She wanted to frown at it, but the ring gag didn't really
allow for that. She gave a low groan, and then pushed her mouth over it
again, darting her head forward in hopes of just getting it over with.
Her body didn't like that at all. She got no more than halfway down the
monster before her stomach lurched and her eyes watered. Pain surged
through her neck that was more than enough to wash out the pleasurable
vibrations that the panty was giving her as encouragement for the task.
She reflexively drew back and off the silicone organ, coughing and
retching as a wash of bile surged up her throat and down the drain
beneath the feeding station. She gave herself a moment to wallow in
misery before moving to the other station to get a drink and try to
settle her stomach.

It was only the desperation of her hunger that drove her back to the
feeding station. She pushed herself forward more slowly this time, only
to be stopped by her body's defenses yet again. She gagged and coughed,
then tried it again.

And again.

And again...

It took her nearly a dozen tries before she managed to swallow at just
the right time to force the fake cock into her throat, feeling it
stretching her esophagus painfully around its girth. She pushed forward
until her lips were seated around the base of the silicone monster, her
nose pressing to the plastic window. The readout on the display changed.
The counter clicked.



She drew back off the item as she felt it splashing something hot and
creamy into her throat. Once she could taste it, she realized that it
was some kind of pudding, like tapioca without the pearls. It was, quite
honestly, the best thing she had ever tasted, thanks to how hungry she
was. Her sense of victory was short lived, however, as after several
splashes of pudding into her mouth, the display changed again.



As with the first station, one load wasn't enough to fill the void. She
groaned after swallowing down what was in her mouth the best she could
without being able to close it. She would have to do it again, and this
time, she would have to do it twice to get any of the pudding. She
wanted to recover, but she didn't want to risk forgetting how she did it
the first time, so she pushed back forward over the artificial erection,
choking a bit, but managing to once again get her lips around the base
of the tormenting toy. She watched as the display said that she had
completed one of two, and drew back an inch before pushing forward
again. There was no change.

Heather rolled her eyes in frustration and backed up further, trying
three times before satisfying the device that she had pulled off far
enough. Far enough, it turned out, was to have only the head of the cock
in her mouth before pushing forward again. The display clicked to two of
two completed and she was once again rewarded with a few splashes of hot
pudding into her mouth. Then her stomach soured as she glanced at the
display again.



'Oo omm oah!' she shouted at the station past the gag. It was doubling
on her. She knew what that meant, as bad as the first few times were, it
was only going to get worse. It took a long time for Heather to realize
that she wasn't being left alone in the room. She blamed the fact that
the drink station had changed over to beer and left her tipsy and foggy.
The flavors of drinks cycled, and she used those as '˜days', as it took
sleeping twice to empty a tank, she decided that the beer was her
weekend. It made for a really long week, but it was the closest to a
routine that she could figure out. The food in the feeding station never

After recovering from the beer, Heather noticed that her skin didn't
feel as itchy and sticky, and the room smelled cleaner. More over, her
belly felt achingly hollow. The only conclusion she could come to, as
disturbing as it was, was that she was being drugged as well as rendered
drunk. While she was out, someone had to be cleaning the room, washing
her, and she could only assume giving her an enema, as she couldn't
think of any other way to account for the hollow ache, or the fact that
she hadn't needed to do anything but piss to relieve herself in the time
she had been there.

As for how long that was, she really didn't have a clue. The drinks had
cycled through three times, and counter was up to '˜4096/00', which is
where it had apparently stopped increasing. She could count, and had
nothing but time. If she managed one deep throat a second, it would take
just over an hour for her to get her meal. It usually took longer, just
because she would need a break to catch her breath or get a drink before
continuing. The drink station had also upped its ante, over time
increasing from a pint to a quart over the days and days of practice.

The worst part however, was the droning vibration between her legs
whenever she had her mouth around a dick. As much as she hated the
situation she was in, she could usually get off a couple times while
trying to get a meal, and as much as her brain hated what she was forced
to do, her body was beginning to become more than a little eager for her
next drink or meal.

Heather woke slowly, her body aching from several places, and her head
feeling fuzzy and drugged. Her intestines ached and felt stretched and
empty at the same time, hinting at another deep enema, but the plug in
her ass was clearly new, as she could feel the difference in size, and
her anus ached from how wide it was stretched. Her chest ached from
several points around her nipples, and when she glanced down at her
chest, she could see little bulges with tiny scab marks atop them, like
poorly healed bee stings, ringing each areola. The muscles in her arms
felt stiff and sore, the limbs almost leaden as they lay to either side
of her body, and the joints felt slightly swollen. Her skin felt like
she had a sunburn from head to toe, and her flesh looked pink and a bit
raw, yet greasy from recent application of lotion.

The thing that got her attention the most, however, was that her lips
burned and felt dry and chapped. It wasn't so much that she noticed them
for the pain, but that she noticed that they were closed. As was her
very sore jaw.

She opened her mouth slowly, feeling the sore muscles of her jaw work,
and feeling the bone click a little from the stiffness, and she ran her
tongue over her lips tentatively. The ring gag was gone. It wasn't until
she felt a hand caress her cheek where the strap had been that she even
noticed that it was hers, and that her arms were also free.

Her eyes went wide and she looked around herself, hoping that this was a
good change. Looking around the room, however, she realized that those
were the only changes. She was still alone and trapped in the room with
the two dildo stations.

Her hands explored her loins, finding that the hard plastic panty was
still firmly in place, and padlocked in the back still. She found
herself surprised at how solid the plastic item felt, as though the
plastic were as hard as steel, or maybe coating thin steel plating. She
knocked at it with her knuckles, and couldn't even feel the plastic
shift against her body, and heard only a solid sounding clack from her

She let her arms fall to her sides again, returning to the positions
they had been bound in for so long, and gave up on moving, just feeling
the aches and pains in her body throb through whatever drugs they had
pumped her full of when she was asleep. She hurt too much to try to get
up or do anything.

Part of her feared that this was just a dream, and that if she fell
asleep, she would wake up with that ring in her mouth and her hands
bound again, but that didn't stop her from slipping back into
unconsciousness, and experiencing a far more natural sleep.

Heather woke to find herself still as freed as she was when she had
fallen back asleep, and thirst pushed her to move enough to at least
stand up, a task she found far easier with her hands to assist her. She
approached the drink station and noticed that the text on the screen had


It wasn't a big difference, but she noticed it and sighed, realizing
that it was a modification to the routine to account for her being able
to close her mouth now.

'Great...' she said, though her voice sounded different to her, parched
and scratchy from lack of use, but also deeper, huskier. She put her
hand to her throat and rubbed it, frowning at the change.

Still, it changed nothing, she was thirsty and needed a drink. She knelt
before the station and took the head of the flaccid dong into her mouth
and started sucking, being careful of her teeth. The fluid began to
surge into her mouth, and tasted like plain warm water, but the
vibrations of '˜reward' never started.

She missed it... the pleasure... and her hand moved reflexively to rub
at the front of her panty, trying to get any sensation of pleasure to
her heated sex as she swallowed the fast spray of water obediently. She
was horny, she could tell that, her body craving the lacking attention
for her doing her job. Her hips shifted side to side and her thighs
closed, and she couldn't help but give a frustrated groan around the
cock in her mouth.

It wasn't until she pulled her lips off that silicone toy and swallowed
the last of the water that she caught sight of her reflection in the
plastic panel. Her lips, once a nice pale rose hue, were white as snow,
whiter than the surrounding skin. She put her fingers to her lips and
shuddered. That was why they had hurt and felt so dry.

'They bleached my lips!' she gasped out, pulling her lower lip down and
out to see the slow transition from white to the pink inside her mouth.
'Why the hell did you bleach my lips!?' She knew there would be no
answer, but she couldn't stop herself from shouting it out towards the
cameras at the corners of the room.

She smacked the flat of her hand against the wall between the two
plastic panels in frustration, and then sighed, there was nothing she
could do about it, but the change soured her stomach all the same.

She looked to the feed station and read the new instructions there.


below the words was a long strip, like a loading bar for a computer
program, currently all in red. There were tick marks above the strip at
twenty-five percent, fifty percent, and seventy-five percent.

She frowned at the new and more vague instructions, realizing that a
whole new element had been entered into her routine. She could no longer
focus on mechanical, she had to learn what the system '˜liked' and master
that, with no more instructions than the small blurb and the arousal bar.

Without even thinking about the connotations, Heather found herself
muttering, 'Fuck that.'

She left the food station where it was and went to lay down again,
closing her eyes and trying to relax. She couldn't decide of the changes
were a good sign or a bad sign, nor could she figure out what the
endgame was. She had no idea who had kidnapped her, but all she could
envision were tales of white slave trades, and the possibility of ending
up some African warlord's slave, or some oil baron in the Middle East's
harem girl.

Heather ended up drinking three more times, and peeing twice before she
finally worked up the nerve to try out the new feeding station.

She started out with just licking the tip to see how much that made the
bar move, and watched as a tiny sliver of green appeared on the left
edge of the bar. It stayed there for a short while before dropping back off.

'Fuck... no more taking breaks.' she grumbled in that new huskier voice
of hers. She tried to think of what she had heard gossiped about giving
a blow job, to try to imagine what the people who made this infernal
device might have programmed it for, but not having much more than vague
'˜friend of a friend' tales, she really didn't have any good hints. She
knew how to get the thing into her throat, so she decided to start with
that, though forcing the length of that silicone toy into her throat
barely filled as much as the lick did. She went back to licking,
repeatedly and over different areas, trying to see what the toy liked
best. She managed to get the arousal bar halfway to twenty-five percent
before it seemed to stop gaining. At that point, she decided to try
sucking on the tip, and was more thrilled than she was proud to admit to
see the bar start to fill further.

Apparently the simulation got bored of the same thing over and over, and
liked more intense sensations later in the game. It felt like it took
forever to mix and match licking, sucking, caressing and finally using
her throat to be rewarded with a few spurts of the pudding meal. Every
time she thought she had the system down, it started to demand something
different, all without any clues as to what, forcing her to experiment
and fiddle around to keep the machine happy.

The lack of the buzzing reward between her legs didn't help her
frustration, or her horniness. She got herself another drink and then
moved to lay down on the floor again, grunting, 'I almost miss the old
monotonous way...'

The aches and pains in her body took several of her '˜days' to wear off,
and for her to get back into the routine of drinking and feeding. The
feed station never seemed to be the same way twice, and after each
success, it demanded more and more complexity from her. It forced her to
think about what she was doing, which she found even more humiliating
and degrading than just going through the motions. Her options were to
please the machine though, or starve, so she spent her days struggling
to get a meal before her mouth and tongue were worn out. It was on the
second of those days that she first got punished for the use of teeth.
She was trying to get a meal, bobbing her head up and down the shaft
quickly, only to scrape the underside with her bottom teeth.

A harsh spike of electricity coursed from the plug in her ass forward
through her loins, followed by nine others, spaced to shock her every
other second. It was the same punishment as spilling, but without the
ring gag to stop her, her mouth clenched.

Her teeth bit into the silicone toy and she watched the bar drop from
somewhere near ninety percent to zero, and felt a new series of shocks
start, even as the first continued. This new punishment didn't come from
the plug in her rear, instead it came from the place where the
vibrations used to, a hard jolt right over her clitoris.

She threw herself back off of the toy and screamed in pain at this new
punishment, feeling the two punishments alternate, first a shock to her
ass, then a shock to her clit, over and over until both had finished
their ten shocks.

by the time it was done, she had wet herself, and lay quivering on the
ground as her urine flowed towards the drain at the far end of the room,
feeling her muscles twitch from after-spasms left in the wake of the
electric abuse. Her eyes were clouded with tears and her pussy felt like
it had been fried. There were no sounds of sizzling or smell of burned
flesh, but that didn't stop her imagination from going to the worst
possible places.

The lack of reward meant that the learning curve was slower, and the
feeding station was very generous with punishments, making her quite
timid for the next couple of drink cycles as she tried to master her
skills and keep her teeth as far from the silicone erection as she
could. Her body was well trained from earlier rewards, however. Just
thinking about getting a drink or a meal set her pussy tingling, making
her belly feel empty and needy and the muscles of her pelvis flutter and
clench. And then it happened...

One morning she got her drink, a liter of beer, which set her abuzz and
left her as tipsy as always. Most of her punishments came on beer days
thanks to that. She looked at the dick and couldn't help grinning as in
her lust, alcohol and hormone addled mind, she started to create a fantasy.

She wasn't in the room. She was in a hotel, and that wasn't a wall, it
was some underwear model stud, hot and eager for her. She started to
kiss and tease at the dick, then curl her tongue around it, before
taking it into her mouth and suckling at it in slow bobs over its
length. She didn't even pay attention to the bar, letting the fantasy
claim her.

One hand pressed to the wall to support her bobbing, and the other
slipped between her legs, trying to rub at her pussy through that
chastity panty she wore. She groaned in frustration, drawing her head
off the toy to mutter, 'It isn't enough...'

Her hand trailed up her body as she went back to work, rubbing at her
flat chest and pinching at her swollen and stiff nipples. She moaned at
the pleasure she got, and sped up her work on the dick, but it still
wasn't enough.

Her hand raised further, rubbing at the cock in a jerking motion for a
moment before sliding across her cheek as she dove low, taking the
entire length into her throat. Without thinking about it, her fingers
twisted and twined in her hair, grabbing a good fist full of the short
blonde hair that was still growing back out. In her fantasy, it was his
hand in her hair. He was eager for more, like she was. It wasn't enough.

She began to pull her head down by the hair, over that cock again and
again. It wasn't a simulated silicone penis anymore, or a feed station.
In her mind it was flesh and blood, and her head was being pulled over
it again and again as it fucked her throat.

Something clicked inside her. She felt the cum... the pudding... surge
into her mouth in spurt after spurt, and swallowed it down eagerly,
feeling her own body respond. She almost bit the toy again as she felt
her body hit its bliss without a single touch to her pussy. No
vibrations or buzzing, no touching or grinding, just feeling that orgasm
hit the back of her throat before her pussy started to clench and flutter.

It wasn't the most intense orgasm of her life, but it was the first she
had managed since the rewards stopped, and it was so needed. She fell to
her back, drunk on pleasure and beer, and felt her body tingle as her
head spun.

It was the last time she would think of the toys as being anything but
real cocks of needy young men who were hot for her and her skills.

She threw herself into wicked fantasies and improbable events, all with
hot yet faceless men. The most common for the drinking station...
especially during beer days... was that she was at a party, and the
bathrooms were busy. Her date couldn't hold it, so she held it for him.
Her favorite for the feeding station was to be in a changing room at the
mall when a guy walks in and demands that she pleasure him. The stories
became more elaborate, but the theme always revolved around her mouth
and his cock. She experienced little orgasms more and more often from
these fantasies, which just fueled them further.

She barely noticed as the pudding got blander and thinner and as the
drinks got hotter and saltier. In her mind, it was an expected change,
as cum couldn't really taste like pudding, and she knew that piss didn't
taste like apple cider or lemonade. She adapted to the slow change and
let it make her fantasies all the more realistic.

She didn't really take notice at all until one morning she woke to find
the drink tank filled halfway with some clear fluid. She frowned at
that, as it didn't fit the pattern. The fluid turned out to be water,
unsalted and fresh, though still heated. She was surprised at how
refreshing it was, as her body was a bit dehydrated from all the salt in
the drinks. She drank at that flaccid cock until her stomach couldn't
handle anymore, causing her to get her first punishment in a while from
taking on more than she could swallow. The fluid ran its course, and she
moved to lean her back against the corner above the drain, sighing in
relief as she pissed through that tiny hole in the chastity panty. About
ten seconds after she started, she heard a gurgling on the other side of
the room, and looked up.

To her surprise and horror, she could see an amber-yellow liquid
trickling into the drink tank from a tube in the top of it. Her guts
clenched as she realized the significance. The liquid stopped flowing
into the tank about ten seconds after she stopped pissing, mixing with
the remaining water in the tank and rendering it soft yellow hue.

'Oh no... please no... come on!' Heather found herself protesting. She
knew what was going on, it was the only thing that made sense. That was
her pee. The room had moved it from the drain to her drink tank and
mixed it in with the water.

She held off drinking as long as she could after that, but eventually
her body needed more fluids, and she found herself forced to return to
that flaccid cock. She sucked at it gently and discovered that her fears
were confirmed, as the fluid that splashed into her mouth tasted very
much like watered down piss.

Worse, she found that piss became less watered down each time she had to
go to the bathroom, as there was less and less fresh water to water it
down with. The saltier and the more acrid the fluid became, the more it
fit in with her fantasies, and her shame and orgasms increased in equal

Eventually there wasn't enough water in the liquid to sate her thirst,
and she guessed that the tank must be nothing more than urine that her
body continued to concentrate every time it passed through her. It was
almost more than she could endure.

Heather groaned, her head was throbbing, and felt heavy. She opened her
eyes, feeling a stale breeze on her face, and was stunned to find that
she wasn't in the room that had become her life. She was sitting on a
cold surface, and looking around herself in a panic let her see four
walls surrounding her, close and dirty, etched with scratched and drawn

A toilet stall...

She glanced down at herself and was surprised to find that she was in
the same clothing she had been wearing when she had been abducted a
lifetime ago. It all felt weird... scratchy and wrong... after so long
spent naked in the room.

She stood up and slid the bolt on the stall door and stepped out into
the public bathroom, and gasped.

Across from her was a wall length mirror with all the sinks under it in
a row. It was the first clear view of her face since she had been abducted.

Her hair was no longer blonde. It had been styled into a cute pixie cut,
feathered and tousled, and dyed a vibrant electric purple hue. Her
bleached white lips were no longer white, instead they were a very
bright '˜fuck me' pink, and looked wet and glossy.

Her fingers went to her lips and rubbed, but the pink didn't come off.
She stepped closer to the mirror and her mouth fell open. It had been
tattooed on, a bright hot metallic pink permanent lipstick coating,
sparkling in the bathroom light vulgarly.

She looked thinner than she had before, but not malnourished or gaunt,
just... more defined. Worse or better, Heather couldn't decide, her hips
stretched the jeans almost painfully, clearly having filled out during
her captivity despite the relative good fit of the rest of her clothes.
She dug into the pockets of her coat and found a prepaid cellphone, a
twenty dollar bill, and a foil strip of four condom packets.

She stepped out of the bathroom, flinching a bit at the bright light of
the day, feeling the crisp air. She could see the nearly naked trees
with fresh green buds on their branches and pulled the phone from her
pocket, thumbing the on button. The date placed the time as mid March of
the next year. Six months. She had been gone for six months.

The first call she made was to her mother. The next week was filled with
a lot of hugs and crying, and too many interviews by detectives to keep
track of. Everyone wanted to know where she had been, how she had
escaped, and what had happened in the last six months.

She didn't tell her mother that she had been anything but kidnapped. She
couldn't bear to tell her the truth about the event that had occurred.
She told the police, however, after they promised not to tell her
mother. She then had to tell a therapist as well.

She was inspected by a doctor soon after her rescue from the park she
had been left in, which was less than twenty miles from her apartment
home. She was honestly surprised that her hymen was still intact, and
less surprised to find that her lips weren't the only tattoo. She bore a
tramp stamp in bold black, a circle of text that read '˜CERTIFIEd URINAL
ANd COCKSUCKER' around a large stylized '˜A' with the word '˜GRAdE'
written across it. A stamp of approval, certifying her as a grade '˜A'
urinal and and cocksucker.

Her mother insisted that it be removed, but Heather convinced the
doctors to leave it where it was. She claimed that she would rather have
a vulgar tramp stamp than some big tattoo removal scar. She couldn't
tell the truth. She couldn't tell her mother that she wanted to keep the
tattoo because you don't go through the education to burn your diploma.
She couldn't admit that she felt a surge of warm pride at the vulgar tattoo.

The tattoos weren't the only changes, though they were the only ones
that people could see. Her stomach had shrunk from the long liquid diet,
so she found herself eating like a bird, satisfied after only small
portions. More importantly, she couldn't stop herself from staring at
the crotches of men and boys as she passed them. She suddenly understood
how boys felt as they stared at girls' chests.

She just kept imagining what their dicks must look like, and wondering
what they tasted like. She knew she was hooked, and part of her didn't
really mind.

Her mother hired her a high school senior to help tutor her and catch
her up on the last six months of missed schooling. He had heard about
the kidnapping, apparently everyone had, and wanted to know more about
it. He was cute, if something of a nerd, but he was also a high school
senior, so he was way cooler than her own eighth grader status. She
couldn't help herself, and she told him the story.

dave Cillford, her tutor, didn't believe her at first, but after a ten
minute blow job, he was a believer, and her boyfriend. dave tutored her
three times a week, and they ended every session with a blow job,
technically he called it a reward for studying hard. She also met him on
weekends, for dates after sneaking out. She suspected that her mother
knew, but the two of them didn't talk about it directly.

He didn't mind playing out Heather's fantasies, and more over, he seemed
to think that her wanting to suck off other guys was cool. He even
showed her where a few glory holes were in town, after explaining to her
what they were. She enjoyed that he would share her with his friends in
high school too, and before the end of the year she had a bit of a
reputation. She was the youngest girl invited to Senior Prom, and her
mouth got a real workout that night. She still had her virginity, but
she did let dave enjoy her ass that night, something he seemed to enjoy
a lot more than she did. She far preferred sucking cock than having it
shoved up her butt.

She had started to think of her time in the strange room as the best
thing that ever happened to her.

Freshman year of high school hadn't seen many changes for Heather. Her
chest was still flat, and tests that the doctors did proved that it
would probably stay that way, as injections her kidnappers had given her
had destroyed the milk ducts and breast tissue, and her hormones had
nothing to trigger breast development in. Her hips had filled out, as
had her ass, but she would be flat chested the rest of her life.

dave didn't care, he was fond of telling her that with lips like hers,
tits were irrelevant. It made her feel a little bit better.

It was early October, and Heather was walking home from school, talking
to her classmate Mindy about the plans dave had to introduce her to his
fraternity in a few weeks at their first party, when she had a sudden
sense of deja vu.

down the street from where they were, she saw a maintenance van parked
part way onto the curb.

Heather bit her lip and said, 'Uh, go on Mindy, I need to tie my shoe.
I'll catch up.' and she dropped to one knee to fumble with her laces as
she watched Mindy shrug and turn to walk further on down the road, her
huge breasts bouncing before her in her too-tight t-shirt. Heather
watched two men slip out of the van behind Mindy, wearing black ski
masks. One of them grabbed her from behind and pushed a cloth over her
mouth. The other turned and looked at Heather. She gave him a big pink
lipped smile and saw him chuckle before helping the other pull the
struggling d-cup teen into the van.

Heather stood up and waved as the van drove off, calling out, 'See you
in six months, Mindy!'


Anonymous 21/02/06(Sat)17:46 No. 27175 ID: e201b6

Archive name: orphan.txt (Mf, reluc, ped, oral, anal)
Authors name: Gungadick (yataala@aol.com)
Story title : Lil Orphan Mandie

This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Lil Orphan Mandie (Mf, reluc, ped, oral, anal)
by Gungadick (yataala@aol.com)


A tragedy leads to taboo sexual discoveries when a cop
takes his work home with him.


I was cooling my heels and waiting for the clock to
strike five before punching out and going home. There was
something to say about working 'Juvie', you always went
home early, or at least on time. It was Friday and I was
the last 'badge' left in the office. The rest of the
uniformed officers had played the seniority card and left
at four.

The handful of civilian case workers and secretaries knew
better than to bother with me and they gave me
surreptitious glances as I sat back in the old wooden
swivel chair and plopped my feet down on top of the desk.
There was a dark cloud over my head and even the younger
women, who had been shameless in their flirtatious
behavior, were staying away.

Not only was I stuck in Juvenile Detention/Family
Services while serving out my probation for striking a
reporter, but these other assholes were lording it over
me. I'd been eleven years on the force and the last three
of those as Detective Second in Robbery/Homicide. I was
on the fast track and everyone knew it.

I was still young enough to qualify, and I had enough
time in grade and service, to apply for the Lieutenant's
exam, but now there was this little wrinkle. I'd punched
a television reporter. Worse than that, I'd done it while
the camera was running. The guy deserved it; everyone
agreed on that point, even his bosses at Channel Seven
had sent the PD an apology, but I had lost my cool and
had to be punished for it.

We had been in foot pursuit of an armed robber, who had
been identified as the same man that had robbed a dozen
other convenience stores in the last month. He was
violent and had put several people in the hospital. The
news van had picked up the pursuit on its police scanner
and had careened onto the scene. My partner and I were
about fifty feet behind the perp and we were gaining.

We were stomping down an alley way, heading for a surface
street that the perp had just crossed and he was winging
it down the continuation of the alley way. The news van
had come to a screeching halt at the mouth of the alley
and blocked our way. It had happened so quickly that my
partner had bounced off the side of the van and fallen
down. I had banged onto the side of the van and yelled,
"Move! Move! Get out of the Way!"

There was the sound of a door sliding open and then the
van backed up. I made a step to continue the pursuit, but
came face to face with the reporter and cameraman.

"Officer," the newsman had shouted at me, "can you tell
us if this is the notorious 'Candy Bandit' that you are

I had been so stunned that I had just gawped at him for a
second. The media had started calling this guy the 'Candy
Bandit' when it was found out that he always grabbed a
handful of candy bars along with the cash. A sure sign of
an addict. I was stuck in place and couldn't get around
the news team without shoving through them. I figured the
perp was long gone and when I looked down the opposite
alleyway, I was stunned to see the perp assuming a two
handed firing stance and aiming our way.

"Get out of the way," I screamed as I brought up my

The newsman's eyes had bugged out and he had yelled,
"What? Are you gonna shoot us?"

His answer came in the form of a nine millimeter slug
whizzing past his left ear and ricocheting off a brick
wall. I had shoved him out of the way and snapped off a
shot of my own, which surprisingly struck the perp in the
right shoulder and knocked him onto his ass. I was
probably more surprised than anyone that I had actually
hit him. Actually hitting anything at a hundred feet with
a handgun is a lot more difficult than television will
lead you to believe.

I had helped my partner to his feet and we'd radioed for
help and an ambulance. We cautiously approached the
suspect and found him struggling to stem the flow of
blood coming from a hole high up near his clavicle. He
spat curses at us as we kicked away his gun and put him
in cuffs.

The news team was 'johny on the spot' and the newsman
kept up a running commentary, trying to get the wounded
perp to identify himself and telling the viewing audience
that he thought they had just seen the use of excessive
force. I had asked them to move to the mouth of the
alley, but they hadn't budged. I had asked them again and
the newsman had stuck the microphone in my face and asked
me for my name and badge number.

"All right," I had finally said, "that's it. Move to the
head of the alley or I'm going to arrest you for

The guy apparently started thinking 'Pulitzer' and stood
his ground. I had raised my arms horizontal to the ground
and started moving forward and bumping into him as though
I was pushing back a crowd. He tried hard to hold his
ground, but he was smart enough not to push back. His
foot struck a rock or something and he slipped and fell
to the ground. He'd jumped right back up and started
yelling lawsuit. Then he said the magic words.

He called me a bad cop. He said I was just like all those
guys in L.A., who were beating up minorities and taking
money for bribes and working with the gang bangers. I'd
reached my breaking point and figured in for a penny, in
for a pound; and I'd hauled off and cold cocked the

He went down like a house of cards and lie in the dirt
and grime of the alleyway. Not a hair out of place.
Adding insult to injury, I had rolled him onto his side
and using a pair of nylon cuffs, I tied his hands behind
his back. I had stood up and faced the camera and picked
up the mike.

"Failure to comply with a lawful order," I had said,
speaking evenly and then tossed the mike onto the ground.
"What about you?" I had asked the cameraman and he had
seen the light and moved back to the news van.

The next hour was pretty much a blur. Ambulances, prowl
cars, news vans, and all manner of other vehicles and
pedestrians started pulling up to the scene. The perp was
trundled into an ambulance and taken away. The entire
time, people were just casually walking around the prone
figure of the newsman.

He had gotten to a sitting position after a while, but he
was still a little groggy and couldn't find his feet. I
had a couple of uniforms load him into the back of their
radio car to await transportation. I was going to press
the charges. Suddenly, I had found my field of vision
being filled by my captain. He didn't look happy.

"Well, Wild Bill," he had said, "do you know where I was
about three hours ago?"

"No, sir," I had answered, knowing whatever I said would
be wrong anyway.

"I was sitting in the chief's office with all the other
division captains, trying to stay awake for our monthly
budget meeting."

"Yes, sir," I had said, knowing there was more coming.

"That sweet little secretary of the chief's. You know who
I mean don't you Bill?" He had asked.

"Uh... you mean Emily, captain?" I had asked.

"That's right. Emily! I remember you'd been boffing her
for a while hadn't you, Bill?"

"We dated for a bit, sir," I answered, wishing he'd get
to the point.

"Well. Sweet little Emily followed that great set of
lungs into the chief's office and told him that there was
live coverage of a couple of officers in foot pursuit of
the 'Candy Bandit' on television. So! The chief had her
turn on the set in his office and we all watched the
chopper footage of my two very best detectives humping
down these alleys, jumping over fences, avoiding traffic,
dogs, and all kinds of ne'er-do-wells. Just like in the
fucking movies."

At this point he paused and made a motion as though
wiping away a tear. "It made my heart proud." " But
then," he suddenly added with a little animation in his
face, "the news switched over to this pansy assed mother
fucker who was reporting in from the ground and we were
all surprised to see Officer 'Wild Bill' Madison pointing
a nine millimeter Glock at the viewing audience. Well, I
can say we were all relieved when it turned out you were
simply returning fire and actually managed to hit that
piece of shit from about a hundred feet off."

"Hell of a shot! Wasn't it, Captain?" My partner said
from behind the Captain's left shoulder.

The Captain had turned and burned a hole into Frank, who
had slinked away.

"Yes, sir," I had said, but didn't know why.

"I tell you, it was pure 'D' magic," the Captain
continued, "I mean, everybody was shaking my hand and the
chief was patting me on the back and then you had to go
and fuck it up, didn't you?"

"I guess so, Captain," I had said, figuring anything else
would only piss him off.

"Now, I don't really give a shit that you bent that
asshole's beak a little. He had it coming. We all saw

I had winced a little as he yelled the last part, but
being who I am, I had to ask.

"What about the part where I said, 'failure to comply
with a..."

That's as far as I got, because the chief's face turned a
bright red and his eyes a deep black. He had spun around
and stomped away. Frank had come up and draped a hand
across my shoulders.

"Well, son," he had said, "what's it gonna be? Traffic or

I'd looked over right then to where the news man sat in
the back of the cop car and seen him looking my way and
smiling. I'd made a move for my gun and seen his eyes pop
wide open as his face had slid below window level.

So, that's how I wound up being blackballed all the way
down to Juvie for three months probation. I guess they
had enough meter maids. I'd been a minor celebrity for
about a week and the footage of the arrest and the
following uh... confrontation had even made it onto
national news, which had caused me to get a ton of calls
from long lost friends and all of my relatives.

My dad thought the whole thing was a kick in the pants
and he laughed and shook his head every time he saw me.
He was still on the force and was getting ready to pull
the pin at the age of fifty-five. On the upside, every
cop groupie in town wanted to suck my dick, and I hadn't
had to buy a drink for a week. I'd even met that sexy
little news anchor at Channel Seven when I'd gone over to
do my on air apology to the little asshole for my 'acting
out in the heat of the moment.'

The little faggot had been wearing about a yard of tape
and a pound of gauze on his shnoz. I'd been shaking hands
all around when I felt a piece of paper being pressed
into my palm and looked up to find the doe-eyed Eurasian
anchor giving me a wink. I'd unfolded the paper later and
found a phone number and the words, 'phone me, if you're
single' scribbled on it in pink ink. I had, and we did,
and we would again. Soon.

So, I was lamenting my wounded pride and watching the
clock do its slow march to freedom when the phone rang. I
glanced over and then took my feet down off the desk and
grabbed for the 'blower'. The light for line four had
been blinking, which meant that we were getting a call
from dispatch. Something I hadn't seen happen in the two
weeks I'd been there. I was sort of hoping it was a
family dispute so that I could maybe get a chance to pop
some fat asshole in the face for beating his wife or his

A familiar voice told me that they had a 'see the man'
call and I'd asked why the hell they were calling juvie.
The dispatch sergeant had laughed when he realized who he
was talking to and told me because it had to do with an
abandoned child.

I told him I was alone and to feed the call to someone
else, but he said I was the only unit available and that
I was expected to respond. I cursed and wrote down the
address. I looked at the clock as I walked out. It was
4:59. I grabbed a set of keys and went down to the garage
to find something to fit them. I got into the old beat up
Ford Escort without lights and siren and drove out to

I pulled up to the house. It was one of those in a mixed
neighborhood where you know the couple are retired.
Everything was neatly trimmed and painted. Little dwarfs
leaned over mushrooms like they were trying to hump them
and an assortment of other little sculptures decorated
the yard. It was like a miniature fun forest without the
miniature screaming kids. The door opened as I pulled out
and a heavyset old geezer came huffing out.

He had a nervous habit of pulling up on his trousers as
though they were about to fall down, but I don't know how
since he was wearing suspenders and a belt. There was a
four-inch gap between the pants and his shoes and I could
see he was wearing support hose. He was smiling and
pleasant and offered me his hand. I shook and introduced
myself then asked where the child was. Well, he wasn't
going to give in that easy. He had to tell me the entire
story from beginning to end.

It seemed that about four days prior he had gotten up to
find the lid taken off his garbage can and a lot of the
trash strewn about. His neighbor had had the same thing
happen. They thought it was raccoons again, but if it
was, they had been awfully quiet. The next day, the same
thing happened, so Mr. Krupnik had stayed up late and
listened, but hadn't heard anything the following night.
The next day, the cans had been opened again.

On the fourth night, he had stayed up and sat by the back
door. He'd heard a slight rattle and had turned on the
back porch light and had been surprised to see a small
child rooting through his garbage. The child had run off
and Krupnik had stopped to pull on some pants and put on
some shoes so by the time he got outside there was no
trace of her. He led me around to the back of his house
and I saw that all the houses on this side of the street
backed onto one of the county's emergency storm drains.
Large waterways and tunnels like you'd seen on Terminator

Krupnik told me he had seen little footprints in the dirt
and had followed them to where there was a hole in the
fence, which the county hadn't fixed, even though he had
called them about it years ago. He said he had looked
down into the cement basin and a movement had caught his
eye. A small child had been standing in the mouth of one
of the overflow pipes and had disappeared inside when
she'd been spotted. He said he'd been watching the pipe
ever since he'd called and unless she'd snuck out while
we were talking, the child should still be in there.

I thanked him and slid and shimmied down the grass verge
and then the slanting cement wall. I'd crossed about
forty feet up from the overflow pipe and hugged the wall
as I approached. I tried not to make any noise and
grabbed my four cell flash off of my Sam Browne and
illuminated the interior of the cement culvert.

My actions were greeted by a small shriek and I'd found
myself looking into the wild and frightened eyes of a
child. She had backed away from me, but there was a grate
about four feet in and she could go no further. I
crouched in the opening of the pipe so that she could see
my uniform and tried to coax her out. I didn't want to
traumatize her.

"Hi! Sweetheart," I said, modulating my tone to soften
it, "what are you doing in there? Have you lost your


"Can you tell me your name?"


"I'm Bill. My friends call me 'Wild Bill'. You can call
me Wild Bill too, if you want. What's your name?"

This time there came a tiny murmur.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but I didn't hear you. Did you say
'a man'?"

"Amanda!" She said with a little more 'oomph' to it this

"Amanda!" I repeated. "What a pretty name. I bet you're a
pretty girl too. Why don't you come out so I can see

"Mommy told me to stay inside," was her reply.

"Mommy did? Well, she wanted to make sure you were safe,
but you won't be any safer than with me. See, I'm a
policeman," I had said in a singsong fashion.

"Mommy hates the policemen," she said.

"She does?" I asked with a laugh, but inside I realized
that my task had just gotten that much harder. "Where is
your mommy? She hasn't been back for a long time has

"Mommy said for me to wait here and not talk to anybody,"
Amanda said and I thought I heard a tear in her voice.

"Where did your mommy go, Amanda?"

"She went with the bad man," Amanda said.

"Do you know which bad man she went with, Amanda?"

"Lex," she whispered.

"Lex?" I repeated and thought for a second. "You mean
Lexington? Is the bad man really tall and have red hair?"

"Uh hun," Amanda whispered.

Lexington Rowls was a crack dealer who ran a string of
'hos' on the side. Vice and Narco had been trying to nail
his ass for a long time, but he was an intelligent man. I
asked Amanda where her mother had gone with the bad man
and she told me that they had climbed up the bank next to
the drain pipe. She said she'd heard a loud bang and then
a car had gone away. I shuddered with a premonition and
told Amanda not to go anywhere and I stood up. She had
whispered a tiny 'okay'. I looked over across the way and
saw Mr. Krupnik with another old geezer and I yelled out
to them.

"Mr. Krupnik. You remember hearing any gun shots in the
last week or so?"

"I called you guys about that last Saturday. Didn't they
tell you?" He yelled back and then went into a fit of
smokers cough.

The other old geezer yelled back.

"Is the child okay? She hasn't been shot has she? You
want us to come down and help?"

"You gentleman stay right there okay. I may need you to
do something else."

I scrambled up the side of the drain and pushed my way
through some thick bushes. I came out onto a dirt road.
It was probably a county maintenance road. I sniffed the
air and smelled the stench of rotting garbage. Or was it?
I followed the smell and as I got closer I could hear the
buzzing of blue bottle flies. I knew what I was going to
find and steeled myself for the sight. I parted some
bushes and found Amanda's mother.

She was lying face down in the dirt and a large black
stain radiated out from around her head. There was a
small hole in the base of her neck where the bullet had
gone in and I could tell from the matter lying around
that most of her face was probably blown away. I backed
out and fought the urge to vomit. I walked far enough
away so that the sound of buzzing and the putrid smell
were no longer in evidence and took in some deep breaths.
I went through the bushes again and skidded down the side
of the drainage ditch.

I looked up and my two cohorts were still watching me.

"Mr. Krupnik could you call 911 and tell them that
officer Madison reports a dead body on the county access
road back here and tell them how to find it. Tell them
they need to send someone from homicide over."

"Jesus! Did you hear what he said?" Krupnik's friend
asked him and they had moved away as quickly as their
tired old legs could carry them. I could hear the other
geezer's voice recede as he kept repeating, "Jesus
Almighty a dead body! Jesus Almighty! Jesus Almighty!"

I went back to the culvert and looked inside. The light
reflected off of Amanda's eyes and they looked as though
they were just floating in mid air.

"Amanda," I said gently, "why don't you come out sweetie
and I'll get you something to eat. How about McDonald's?"

"Could I get a friendly meal?" Her teary voice asked.

"Yes, sweetie. You can get a friendly meal," I had
replied and my heart had made a little flip in my chest.

She knew that what I'd found was bad news, but neither of
us said anything about it. I waited and then a slight
rustling told me she was coming out. I backed up a little
so as not to scare her, but stayed down at her level. She
came out into the daylight and my heart was torn from my
chest. Her hair was all matted down. Her tears made
streaks in the layers of dirt caked onto her small
cheeks. Her eyes seemed abnormally blue as they peered
out from amongst all the grime.

Her dress was so gray with dirt that I couldn't tell what
color it was supposed to be. There was a fresh scab on
her right knee where she had probably scraped it on the
cement and she was barefoot. I held out my hand and
smiled at her. She hesitated for a long time before
putting her small hand into mine. She couldn't have been
any older than five or six, but she was so thin that she
could have passed for four. I held her hand and we
crossed the flood drain and I carried her up the other
side. Mr. Krupnik and his crony came around the side of
his house just as we were walking into his yard and
Amanda buried her face into my shoulder.

"By God!" He half shouted. "What did I tell you Wilbur. I
told you I saw a little girl over there!"

"You sure did, Charlie," Wilbur agreed. "You sure did."

Charlie would be cock of the walk for a while as he
related the story to all of his other geezer friends. The
back door to his house opened up and a skinny little old
woman looked out at us.

"Oh my Lord!" She said when she saw Amanda. "That poor
little girl. I guess that old fool was right when he said
he saw her. You bring her inside officer and we'll get
her something warm to drink."

The entire time, Amanda kept her face pressed into my
shoulder and I could feel her tiny hand grabbing the
sleeve of my shirt.

"It's okay, sweetie. Mrs. Krupnik will get you some hot
chocolate or something. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"You said we were going to McDonald's," she whispered
into my shoulder.

"We are, but first I have to wait for some more policeman
to arrive. It won't take long."

We went into the house just as the sound of a siren
wailed its way towards us.

"Come here, dear," Mrs. Krupnik said and put her arms out
for Amanda, but the little waif wouldn't have any of it
and she held my arm in a vice like grip.

"It's okay, Amanda," I said, bending my neck back so that
I could look down into her face. "I'm going to have to go
out and talk to a lot of nasty policemen for a little
while before we go to McDonald's. Wouldn't you rather
stay inside with Mrs. Krupnik. She'll make you some hot
chocolate and maybe even wash off a lot of that dirt so
we can see how pretty you really are."

"You won't come back," the little urchin stated flatly.

"I will!" I said, my voice rising. "I promise I will."

I crouched down so that her feet could touch the ground
and she slowly and unwillingly released the material of
my shirt. I had little bunches of wrinkled material at
the sleeve and chest of the shirt where she had held on
for dear life. She looked at me with those dark blueberry
colored eyes and her lips quivered.

My heart lurched about in my chest.

"I promise, Amanda. I'll be back as soon as possible."

"That's what mommy said," she whispered accusingly.

"I know, Amanda. But, your mommy had an accident," I told
her. I figured I should start paving the way for the
final blow of the loss of her mother.

Mrs. Krupnik stood next to her and held her hand out.
Amanda looked up at the kind old soul and saw nothing
alarming there so she took the proffered hand. I winked
and smiled at my little charge and stood up to go
outside. A thought crossed my mind and I turned to see
Amanda watching me go.

"Amanda," I asked, "can you tell me your whole name?"

"Amanda Blessing," she said through her pout.

The shock must have been evident as it crossed my face
because Mrs. Krupnik's brow furrowed and she said, "You
knew her?"

"I picked her up once for," I was about to say
shoplifting, but I didn't want to upset Amanda so I said,
"borrowing some jewelry from Bonwit Tellers."

Mrs. Krupnik sighed and then talking to Amanda in that
grandmotherly voice I remembered so well from my
childhood she led her away to get the chocolate. I went
outside and thought about Elizabeth Blessing, deceased
hooker and former high school prom queen. I remembered
that from when her parents had come down to bail her out.
They were nice people and kept insisting it must have
been an oversight on their daughter's part, but even they
didn't believe it. Elizabeth had been on the fast track
to self destruction.

She was still beautiful even though she was ghostly thin
and you could tell she was hooked on something. That had
been a half dozen years earlier and she had made enough
of an impression that I still remembered her. She must
have gotten pregnant soon thereafter and I was surprised
that Amanda didn't appear to have suffered the 'crack
baby' syndrome. The first radio car pulled up in front of
Krupnik's house as I stepped outside and I saw the two
uniforms inside it look at each other and laugh when they
saw me. It was going to be a long day.

We'd taken crime scene tape out of their trunk and
scrambled down and up the walls of the flood drain. I
helped them secure the scene and we waited for the
homicide dicks to get there. It wasn't long before a
cloud of dust indicated that several vehicles were
heading our way down the county road. I said something to
one of the uniforms and he ran up and stopped them when
they were about a hundred feet away so that the dust and
dirt wouldn't contaminate the crime scene.

I flinched when I saw who had been 'up next' in Robbery-
Homicide. Lou Philips was the biggest asshole this side
of Sadam Hussein. The stereotypical cigar chomping, loud
mouthed, bigot. His partner was a short, skinny Chicano
by the name of Bob Vega. I knew that one day the two of
them would have it out and my money was on Vega. Philips
chuckled around his unlit stogie as he saw me.

"Hey! If it isn't the kiddy cop," he bellowed. "They said
you rolled on a lost child call, what the fuck are you
doing on my crime scene?"

"Hello Lou," I answered. I always treated him pleasantly
and never reacted to any of his digs, which pissed him
off royally. "The vic is believed to be Elizabeth
Blessing, prostitute. To the best of my knowledge, on
Saturday last around ten at night, she was in the company
of Lexington Rowls when she met her untimely demise."

Vega had been writing furiously as he tried to keep up
with my report. Philips only stared at me and chomped on
his cigar. He could give a shit what I had to say.

"Rowls hun!" Vega whistled. "I'd like to get that mother
fucker. Maybe put a feather in my cap. Get me a new

Philips ignored the comment and asked me, "You didn't say
what you were doing here, Wild Bill?"

"I told you before Lou, only my friends call me Wild
Bill. You can call me Bill, or just detective second if
you want."

This always rankled him because I had beaten him out for
the last promotion even though he'd been a detective
third for about ten years at the time.

"The victim is the mother of the lost child," I told
Vega. "The child was hiding in one of the overflow
culverts. She's the one who told me it was Lexington that
was with her mother. I arrested the mother about six
years ago on a felony theft. Her parent's address should
be in the system. She'd turned to being a 'pross' to
support her habit and had joined Lex' stable."

Vega wrote everything down and thanked me. I led them to
the part of the road closest to the dead body and pointed
out my footsteps so they could flag them. I told them the
culvert was exactly opposite. Vega asked me a couple more
questions and then I left them to it. I told them they
could reach me at home and left them to their work. I
felt envy as I walked away. I missed the job and hoped
that I would actually go back to it after my probation
was over.

I scrambled back over to the Krupnik's where an
assortment of old geezers had gathered at the fence. They
were interchangeable except for some being heavier than
others. Their pants were all too short and they all wore
suspenders. Those who still had hair, had grey, wispy
tufts that reminded me of daffodils gone to seed. I also
wondered if a man's ass shrank as he got older because
all of their pants were baggy in the seat. I fended off a
bunch of questions and told them I couldn't talk about an
ongoing case. I walked back into the Krupnik house and
not finding them in the kitchen I called out.

"In here, officer," Mrs. Krupnik called back and I
followed the sound into the living room.

I stood there in shock. She had done a great job of
cleaning up the little waif and they both sat on the sofa
sipping at cups of hot chocolate. She had given Amanda a
bath it appeared and had even found her some clothes to
fit. I was constantly amazed at what little old ladies
could do.

Amanda was wearing a little pink tee shirt with the
outline of a rabbit stenciled on the front and a pair of
tiny blue jeans. Her face shone pink and clean and her
hair was washed and brushed. She was the youthful image
of her mother. Wavy blonde hair atop a pleasant round
face with deep blue eyes and pouty full lips. She would
be a heart breaker in another twelve or so years. Her
shoeless feet swung back and forth as she sat on the edge
of the sofa and stared back at me. It was as if she was
waiting for me to comment on her appearance.

"My!" I said. "Where did you find this pretty little
girl, Mrs. Krupnik?"

Amanda giggled behind her hand and said, "It's me silly.

Mrs. Krupnik had worked her granny magic and had pulled
Amanda out of her shell. It was amazing what a bath and a
hot cup of chocolate could do. We bantered a little with
me saying it couldn't be her and she insisting it was
until she broke down into a fit of giggles. Mrs. Krupnik
smiled, but you could tell there was a lot of sorrow
behind her eyes.

She kissed Amanda good by as I carried her out to my car
and strapped her in to the back seat. Then, we headed off
for McDonald's. It was while we were sitting there that I
realized I didn't know what to do with her. Where was I
supposed to take her. It was almost eight by the time we
got back to Juvie and everyone was gone except for the

I looked through everyone's roll-a-dexes until I found
one that held the phone number for the head of the Family
Services part of the unit and I called her up. She wasn't
too happy to be disturbed at home, and her answers were
curt. She told me I had to take her to Juvenile Hall, a
detention style dormitory. I told her that Amanda wasn't
a criminal and that I didn't think she should go there. I
was told that it was too late to get anyone at Social
Services and that my only other choice was to put her up
with someone until Monday morning.

I sighed and thanked her. I sat at my desk and stared at
Amanda, who stared back at me. Her lips quivered as she
fought off the tears. She was well aware of what I'd been
talking about. I reached over and took her into my arms
and held her. She cried into my shoulder for about five
minutes. A lot of pain and suffering came out with her
tears and I felt a few tears run down my own cheeks. Her
little body was wracked with sobs as she let it all out.
She knew her mother was gone and wouldn't be coming back.
She was all alone in the world and now I was trying to
get rid of her.

I held her out at arms length and asked if she wanted to
go to her grandparent's house and she told me she didn't
have any. I imagined that all ties had been severed
between Elizabeth and her parents. I called my father who
was on desk duty at the city precinct and had him look up
Elizabeth Blessing in the system and asked that he find
her parent's number. He read off an address and a number.

I thanked him and told him I'd be over to watch the game
on Sunday. We parted with him giving me another shot at
being on probation and I promised myself I would take all
his money the next time we played poker together. He was
an awful card player. I called the number and got a
disconnect message. I tried information for the city and
got no listing. I asked information to try all
surrounding towns and still had no luck.

Apparently they had moved away or no longer had a phone.
I pondered my plight and then made the worst decision
possible. I took her home with me. I lived on the second
floor of a singles complex in the foothills. It had a
great view of the mountains and of the ocean. There was
an Olympic sized pool; a workout room; a sauna; and a
large spa-jacuzzi tub that held eight people.

Half the residents lived up to the singles profile and
the other half tried to. I met a couple of girls I knew
as we walked up to my apartment and they stopped to coo
over Amanda. One said I was picking them young nowadays
and we all laughed. Amanda had withdrawn again and hid
halfway behind my pants legs. I was reminded to hide her
from management since no kids were allowed, but I told
them she was only staying through the weekend.

We walked into my hovel and I realized what a mess it
was. I sat her down in front of the television and she
was quickly hypnotized by the Disney channel. I went
about straightening up and fixed up the guest bed. It was
nearly ten o'clock and I figured it was time for her to
hit the sack.

She protested a little, but I said she could watch
television all day the next day and she went off to use
the bathroom. She called to me from the john and asked
what she was going to sleep in. I went into my room and
rummaged around for something. I found a police academy
tee shirt, which no longer fit, and I brought it to her.
I came up short as I entered the bathroom. Amanda had
taken off her clothes and was standing naked in front of
me. Her little body showed no hint of womanhood except
for her bulging labia. She had the type of cunt where it
looks like the girl is trying to smuggle a hot dog bun by
shoving it inside the crotch of her pants.

I had to tear my eyes away from the sight and I handed
her the shirt, which she slipped on. It came down past
her knees and made the perfect nightshirt. The neck hole
was a little big and slipped over one of her shoulders.
My cock was lurching all over the place. I couldn't
believe how her nakedness had aroused me. And now, she
was achieving that look that a lot of women tried to
affect by stretching the neck of their shirts over a
shoulder, and it was by accident.

I looked up into those blueberry eyes and saw something
pass behind them. She asked about brushing her teeth and
I pulled out one of the spare toothbrushes I kept for
those surprise overnight guests that I often had. I
watched her brush her teeth. She splattered drops of
paste all over my mirror and she worked up a head of foam
that a rabid dog would have envied.

She finally rinsed and made a big production of spitting.
I took her hand and led her to the spare room. I tucked
her in and kissed her on the forehead. I left the door
open at her request and went to get a beer. I sat down
and watched the evening news. There was no mention of her

I stripped down and showered and walked naked to my room
where I snuggled in under the covers. I fell asleep as
soon as my head hit the pillow. Sometime during the
night, something woke me up. I lie with my eyes closed
and listened. There was the soft susurration of a child
sniffling nearby. I opened my eyes and I could make out
Amanda's silhouette close to my head. I got up on an
elbow and turned on the bedside lamp. She stood there and
wrung the hem of her nightshirt as she silently cried.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" I asked her in a croaky sleep
ridden voice.

"I'm scared," she sobbed. "I miss my mommy!"

"I know, sweetie," I said, but was at a loss at what to

"Can I sleep with you?" She asked and I moved over so she
could climb in besides me.

She snuggled her little rear end into my stomach and it
was then I realized that I was naked in bed with a little
girl. I felt my cock twitch and chastised myself for my
thoughts. I reached across her and turned off the lamp. I
was never one for cuddling, but the warmth of her little
body felt natural and I settled in and fell asleep. The
dreams came then. I always dreamt about my cases; not
about the crime itself, but the people involved always
had bit parts in my dreams. This night I dreamed about
Amanda and Elizabeth.

It was a sex dream and their faces and bodies kept
morphing into one another. I was dreaming about fucking
Elizabeth when my dream self looked down and saw that it
was Amanda that was lying beneath him. My dream self had
been shocked so badly that it had actually woken me up.

At first I thought I was still dreaming because I was
still feeling the pleasure of my cock sliding in and out.
I looked down and stared in shock. Amanda was sitting up
in bed and her little hands were stroking up and down on
my engorged cock. I opened my mouth to say something just
as the first shots of cum came flying out of my cock. I
shuddered as my orgasm rolled over me and I heard Amanda
giggle. He tiny hands continued to manipulate my cock and
she milked me dry. She had done this before.

"You look funny," she said as I unscrewed my face from
its grimace of ecstasy.

"Yeah? Well, you'd look funny too if you woke up to a
little five year old girl jacking you off," I said before
I realized I was talking to a child.

"I'm six," she whined at me.

"Okay, okay. You're six," I told her and pulled her up
and away from my cock.

"Amanda, why did you do that?" I asked her.

I reached into the bed side table and brought out a
tissue to clean myself off. Amanda hadn't answered and
when I looked up she was looking at me with a pout. My
tone had upset her.

"I'm not angry, Amanda. I just want to know why you did
that to me," I told her with a fake smile plastered to my

She saw through me and grudgingly answered, "I woke up
and your peepee was pushing against me. I knew what it
wanted and I just did what mommy showed me to do."

"Your mother showed you how to do that?" I asked

"Uh hun!" Amanda said and nodded up and down. "She said I
could help her make lots and lots of money if I helped
her do her job."

"Did you do this very often, Amanda?" I asked and tried
to keep the horror out of my voice.

"Yes," she answered simply.

"How often did you do it? Do you remember?" I asked her.
My curiosity was piqued now.

"Lots," she said, "mommy would have men drive to that
road where you were today and they would get naked and
give her a lot of money so that I would play with their

I swallowed the lump in my throat before asking my next
question, "Is that all you would do. Play with their
peepees like you did with mine?"

"Mommy has me do a lot of things. Sometimes I lick their
peepees and then suck on them like a popsicle. And mommy
sometimes let them put their peepees in my butt."

She giggled when she said the 'B' word. I couldn't
believe what I was hearing and I was speechless. I just
stared at her and I guess she thought she was supposed to
go on because she resumed her narrative.

"The first time it hurt a lot and I cried, but the next
times it wasn't so bad, except when someone was a meanie
and would push really hard. Then mommy would make them
stop, but a couple of times the man hit mommy and kept on
hurting me. Then I would cry."

I gathered her into my arms and held her tight. I
couldn't believe what this little girl had been through.
Well actually, I could, because I'd heard it all before,
but I hadn't been involved in those cases. I held her and
then a realization came over me. I was hard as a post.
Even after just having shot my load, her descriptions had
made my cock come back up to attention. I was disgusted
with myself. Amanda snuggled back into my chest and soon
she was snoring quietly once again. It took me a long
time to fall back asleep and when I did I dreamt of
little girls sucking my cock and impaling themselves on

I awoke the next morning to the sound of a toilet
flushing and I realized I was alone in bed. A moment
later, a small bundle of energy came rocketing back into
the room and jumped onto the bed. I pretended to be
asleep and she shook me to wake me up, but I didn't
respond. She giggled and kept on shaking me, but I still
played possum. She reached up and tried to prop open an
eyelid, but gave up on that. I thought she'd given up and
was about to sit up and go 'booh' when I felt a hand run
along the length of my morning hard on.

I don't know why, but I just lie there and let her
continue. I told myself I just wanted to see what she was
going to do, but deep in the back of my mind I knew there
was more to it. I felt the sheet being pushed aside and
felt the cool air as my body was uncovered.

Her tiny fingers brushed against my balls and I heard a
subdued giggle as my cock bounced up and down in
response. The tiny fingers traced their way up the bottom
side of my cock and I sucked in my breath as they reached
the swollen and sensitive head. I felt her fingers linger
at the small opening in its tip and I knew she was
playing with the precum that had started to ooze out.

I opened my eyes finally and watched her for a minute as
she closely inspected my cock. It was as though she'd
never seen one before and I wondered at her curiosity.

"Amanda," I said and her head snapped up to look at me.
She brought her fingers up to her mouth in surprise and
my cock lurched as I thought about the fact that my
precum was on those fingers. "What are you doing?" I

"I... I never saw a peepee in the light before," she told
me and turned back to my swollen cock.

I gasped as her fingers went back to their investigating.
She grasped my cock in one hand; her little hand unable
to go all the way round and she slowly stroked it up and
down and watched as my prepuce slid up and down. In my
swollen state, it didn't cover the entire head but only
slid up far enough that a small portion of the pink head
poked out. Amanda thought that was funny and continued to
play the game of hide and seek.

She was quickly driving me to the edge once again. She
finally tired of doing that and bent down to study my
balls. She fondled them gently; hefting them and rolling
them around in her small fingers. Her hands grasped my
cock once again and I watched as she stuck out her tongue
and touched the end of my cock. My breath caught in my
throat and held there.

She pulled away and a strand of precum stretched away
from my cock slit. It stretched for about four inches
before breaking. She rolled her tongue around in her
mouth as she tested the taste and then leaned back down
and took a bigger lick. I groaned and let out the breath
I had been holding.

Amanda looked up at me and smiled. She opened her mouth
wide and slowly lowered it onto my cock. My eyes must
have reflected my surprise at her actions because she
pulled her mouth away and laughed at me and said I looked
funny and opened her eyes wide in imitation. I wanted to
grab her by the back of the head and push her down onto
my throbbing member, but I fought the urge and smiled at

I didn't have long to wait as she bent down again and
took me into her oven of a mouth. Her mouth was hot,
moist, and tight. She wiggled her tongue along the
underside of the glans, but there wasn't enough room to
make much of an impact. It was okay though because I was
aroused beyond belief.

Her every move took my breath away. I was like a young
teen again; enjoying my first blow job from Debbie
Anderson. But, Amanda was more experienced. She started
slowly moving her head up and down and fondled my balls
as she did it. Spit drooled down the sides of my cock as
she kept her mouth well lubricated.

My breathing was in concert with her up and down strokes
and I felt it quicken as her head began to bob up and
down faster and faster. She looked up at me with those
big blueberry eyes and that was the last straw. I grunted
loudly and felt the first splash of cum hit the back of
her throat. She was making shallower moves now as she
tried to accommodate all of my cum. I saw bubbles of
diluted cum ooze out the corners of her mouth as I
continued to unload into her.

I sighed loudly as my head fell back onto the pillow and
I felt all the strength pour out of my body. Amanda
stopped ministering to my cock as she felt it begin to
soften and moved up to kneel next to my head. I looked up
at her and saw a gooey mass of cum and spit dripping off
of her chin and onto her naked little chest. I didn't
know when she had taken off the tee shirt, but she was
sitting there naked and I saw that one of her hands was
busy rubbing at her puffy cunt.

"I wanna..." she started to say, but stopped.

"What do you want, sweetie?" I asked her and she lifted a
leg and straddled my neck.

"I want you to lick my peepee," she whispered shyly.

I must of had a very stunned expression on my face,
because she began to pout.

"A lot of the men do it and it feels really good," she
told me.

I placed a hand on either of her butt cheeks and pushed
her up and onto my face. Her adult sized cunt slid across
my chin and settled onto my mouth. Her cunt was extremely
fleshy and it splayed across my lips. I pushed my tongue
up through my lips and up through hers. I moved it around
as I searched for her tender spots. I managed to push
past her outer lips and I lapped at her labia minorus.

I pushed in deeper and found the opening to her vulva. I
formed my tongue into a roll and pressed it in as deep as
possible. I found no barrier and wondered if it was only
her ass that had been fucked. I stroked my tongue in and
out of her for a while and then withdrew it and went in
search of her tiny clitoris. I found it easily and it
wasn't as small as I had expected. It matched the size of
her cunt and I licked and prodded it much to her delight.

Her little frame jerked around on my face as I worked at
her clit and she giggled in delight. I kept it up for a
few minutes and suddenly I heard her gasp and her body
trembled a little as her hands tangled in my hair as she
sought some support. She gave a big sigh and got off of
my probing tongue. She laid down next to me and nestled
into the crook of my arm. We lie like that for a long
time until my dazed mind cleared and I started thinking
about what I'd just done.

A myriad of emotions ran through my body - disgust,
shame, guilt, and yes arousal. I was at a loss as to what
I was supposed to do now. What if she told someone what
we did. My probation would seem like a trip to Disneyland
compared to what would await me then. I jumped as the
phone rang next to the bed and I reached for it.

"Detective Madison?" The familiar voice asked.

"Yes?" I responded as I tried to place the voice.

"This is Mrs. Buteau. I was just calling to find out what
you were doing with the child?"

Buteau was the head of Family Services and the woman I'd
called the previous evening. The first thought through my
mind was 'how did they find out already', but then I
realized there was no way they could and knew she was
just inquiring.

"She's in the other room sleeping as we speak," I told
her and tried to keep my voice even.

"Didn't want to take her to Juvenile Hall, huhn?" She
asked rhetorically. "You know, you shouldn't get too
attached to these kids. It's only going to make you feel
worse in the end. I'll see you on Monday, detective," She
added and hung up before I could reply.

I looked down at the tiny form next to me and she looked
back with those big blue eyes. Damn, I was going to hell.

"I'm hungry," a small voice said from about the area of
my arm pit.

I glanced at the bed side clock and saw that it was
almost nine. I pulled her along with me as I climbed out
of bed and set her down on the floor. She watched as I
looked for a pair of pajamas bottoms to wear, but I
couldn't find any. I hadn't worn any in ages. I usually
just went around in boxers until I had to get dressed. I
finally settled on a pair of sweat pants and then we
ambled into the kitchen.

"What do you usually eat?" I asked her as I counted out
teaspoons of coffee grounds into the Mr. Coffee filter.

Getting no answer, I looked around at her and found her
sitting at the kitchen table. I could only see her head
above the table top.

"Well?" I asked and she made a move that I interpreted as
a shrug.

I went into the living room and came back with the white
and yellow pages of the L.A. phone book. I picked her up
and then sat her back down on top of them. She was almost
eight inches taller now. She looked at me with a wide
grin on her face. I had a feeling that anything I did for
her would be seen as a novel experience. She'd probably
spent her life living in cheap motels, cars, and even
alleyways. Being treated as a child of six would seem
like a fairy tale to her. I scoured my kitchen cabinets
hoping that some magic elf had hidden breakfast items
there. I opened the fridge and found a half carton of

"God bless you, mom," I said to myself as I remembered
how she'd thrust the eggs at me the preceding weekend as
I was leaving my parents house.

She said she was putting my father on a low cholesterol
diet and she wasn't going to serve him eggs anymore. I
told her not to waste her efforts because I knew what he
ate at the station house and she said that he would at
least eat right at home. I found a small skillet and
washed off the dust before cracking a couple eggs into
some oleo. I scrambled them since I didn't have a spatula
to flip them over then added a little salt and pepper.

I shoved a couple pieces of bread under the broiler in
the oven and everything was done at the same time. I
brought the eggs and buttered toast to her and she looked
at me as though I'd just done a magic trick. I was pretty
impressed myself. She tore into the breakfast with the
alacrity of a growing child and I casually sipped my
first cup of coffee. I asked if she wanted more and she
nodded yes so I got up and did it all again. I sat with
my second cup of coffee and watched her repeat her
earlier imitation of a starving nation. She finished with
a burp and giggled as she covered her mouth.

"You want to shower first or second?" I asked her.

"I'm just a little kid," she said looking up at me with a

"I know," I told her, frowning back.

"Little kids don't take showers," she informed me, "we
take baths."

"Oh!" I said. "Well, we have a problem then, because all
I have is a shower. Haven't you ever taken a shower

"Yes, but my mommy helped me," she said and I saw her
eyes tear up.

"Come on then," I sighed.

She hopped down off of her elevated perch and grabbed my
hand as we made our way to the bathroom. She watched as I
turned on the water and set the temperature. I slipped
off my sweats and helped her pull the large tee shirt
over her head. She giggled as it got caught in her hair
and we managed to free her before the water went cold. I
got into the shower and reached out to pull her in. I
stood between her and the full force of the shower spray.

I reached for the soap and suddenly realized the
predicament I was in. I didn't use a washcloth; just my
hands. I held the soap out to her and she put her hands
on her hips and gave me an exasperated look. How could a
six year old look like a grown woman. I sighed again and
lathered up my hands. She raised an arm and we started. I
worked down both arms and then did her upper back and
chest. I started from the other end then and she placed a
hand on my shoulder as she lifted a foot for me to wash.
I worked up both legs and then found myself with the task
of washing her little butt and private parts. I sudsed up
again and ran my hand around her little cheeks and then
down between them.

I could feel myself getting hard again. She turned and
presented her fleshy slit to me. I ran the soap between
my hands and then went to work. I tried to be gentle and
told myself it wasn't sexual, but she let out a moan as
my fingers spread her lips and my cock sprung up hard as
a board. I stood up as soon as I finished and turned to
face the spray. I lathered my arms and shoulders and
worked down my chest. I did the front of my legs and then
the backs.

"I can do your back," a little voice said and I turned to
see her shivering behind me.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," I said as I moved her under the
warm water.

"I used to do mommy's back all the time," she informed

I gave her the soap and squatted down with my back to
her. I felt her tiny hands move around my shoulders and
back. It was comforting in a way and a warm glow spread
throughout my body. It didn't last long however as her
little hands ran down to my ass and then I felt her
fingers brush against my asshole. A tingle leapt through
my body then and I stood and turned to take the soap
away, but she had other plans.

Her soapy hands reached up and grasped my half hard cock
and she started washing away. It quickly became a fully
hard cock. She worked the soap into my pubic hair and got
a lot of lather worked up. She gently washed my scrotum
and returned to my fully extended cock. She took great
pains to make sure I was clean and I saw a glimmer in her
eyes. She let the water rinse away the soap and I relaxed
thinking we were all done, but before I could react she
leant forward and took me into her mouth once again.

"Amanda!" I nearly shouted and pushed her away.

"What's wrong?" She asked me with a pout on her lips.

"Why are you doing that?"

"It's all hard again," she replied simply.

"That's okay. It'll go down by itself," I told her and
her brows furrowed again.

I turned her into the water and told her to close her
eyes. I grabbed the shampoo and lathered her hair. Her
wavy hair was straightened by the water and stretched to
the middle of her back. I lathered it generously and then
rinsed it off. I took her place and washed my own hair.

My cock had yet to subside and I could almost feel her
eyes watching it and waiting for it to soften. I rinsed
and looked down. She was in fact looking at my engorged
member and it jerked of its own accord. I saw a small
smile play across her lips. She was a little sexual imp,
and had been raised to think that her role in life was to
pleasure men. I turned off the water and grabbed a fluffy
bath towel. I wrapped her in it and placed her on the
bath math. I grabbed another towel and quickly dried
myself off.

I got out of the shower stall and began rubbing her up
and down with the towel. She giggled in glee as my hands
ran up and down her sides. I finished drying her body and
went for the hair. I realized I was creating a tangled
mass, but didn't know what else I could do. I didn't own
a hair dryer. She sat on the toilet seat, wrapped in a
towel with her birds nest hairdo and watched as I shaved.
I held her up so that she could brush her teeth and then
I did mine.

We went back into the bedroom and she put on yesterday's
clothes as I put on clean jeans and a button down shirt.
I looked at her tangled hair and decided on getting help.
I also realized she still didn't have any shoes.

We went next door to my friend Ann's apartment. I hoped
she was in. Ann was a flight attendant and was often gone
for days at a time. I knocked and her a voice croaked
from within. The bleary eyed brunette cracked the door

"Fuck, Bill. Do you know what time it is?" Ann asked.

"Yeah, it's almost eleven," I answered as though she had
merely been asking for the time.

She growled at me and started closing the door when she
noticed the little waif peering from behind my legs.

"Oh my God! Who's this?" Ann said and squatted down to
Amanda's level.

"What's your name?" Ann asked in a little girl voice.

"Amanda," came the reply. "How come you don't have any
clothes on?"

"Oh, shit!" Ann said looking down at herself. She turned
and ran into her bedroom.

I led Amanda into her living room and we sat to wait. Ann
came out a few minutes later wearing a nightgown and her
hair was brushed.

"There! That's better," she said and stuck her tongue out
at me as I waggled my eyebrows.

She looked down at Amanda again and I saw a quizzical
expression cross her face.

"What have you done to this little girl's hair?" Ann said
as she squatted once again and held out strands of
tangled blonde tresses.

"Come on," she told Amanda and they both disappeared into
the bathroom.

I went into the kitchenette and started coffee as the
sound of running water could be heard from the bathroom.
The coffee was perking as the sound of a hair dryer came
on. I was pouring myself a cup when they came back into
the living room. I handed Ann a cup of black coffee as I
surveyed the repair work she had done. Not only has she
re-washed and blown Mandie's hair dry, but she had made a
couple of braids with the hair at the front of her head
and brought them back and tied them together to hold down
the giant mop of hair. She was as cute as a button and
she knew it. Her face was lit up like a Christmas tree.
She held Ann's hand and beamed up at her.

"Thanks," I told Ann.

"That's okay," she said and crinkled her nose, "you'll
pay me back."

There was no mistaking the innuendo and even Amanda
understood what Ann meant. She pulled her hand away and
gave Ann a glaring look. Ann looked up at me and raised
her eyebrows.

"Looks like someone's claimed her territory," Ann said.

Amanda came to stand next to me and reached up for my
hand. I looked at Ann and shook my head in wonder. I
thanked her for the help and the coffee and we left her
apartment to go in search of little girl shoes. We drove
to the nearest mall and we went in so that Amanda could
demonstrate that shopping was indeed a genetic trait. She
tried on a dozen pair of shoes before settling on a small
pair of sandals and some red sneakers.

With the help of a teenaged wait person, I bought some
small panties and tee shirts then I got a pair of tiny
jeans, some pull over shirts, and a pretty little blue
dress. Amanda was in heaven. It was like Christmas for
her. We stopped at McDonald's once again and she got a
kiddy meal with some toy from the movie Atlantis. I
sucked down a coke and munched on a burger and fries as I
listened to her go on and on about the clothes we had
just bought.

She told me how they usually got her clothes at Goodwill
and how she normally only got one thing at a time. She
said she hadn't had a pair of shoes for a long time and
she had had only one dress before. I remembered the dirt
gray smock I had found her in and I shuddered inside.
This girl had never had a childhood. I made up my mind
right then and we left the restaurant and headed for
Anaheim. I heard a giant gasp and looked over to see a
wide eyed Amanda staring at the gates of Disneyland as we
drove into the parking lot.

"Are... are we going in there?" She asked in a tiny voice
as though expecting to be told no.

"Sure," I told her, "don't' you want to go?"

"Oh, yes!" She said, sounding like Shirley Temple.

I looked down at her with a smile and found her with
tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Hey, hey!" I said. "What's this all about?"

She looked at me and beamed through her tears.

"I always wanted to go here," she burbled.

I dried her tears with the sleeve of my shirt and grabbed
her little hand. She skipped along beside me as we walked
the half mile to the entrance where I spent a weeks pay
to be admitted. We stopped after passing through and she
stared about her in wonder.

"Oh, my!" She said, sounding even more like Shirley

"What do you want to do first?" I asked her and she
pointed over to where a giant mouse was shaking hands
with a group of little kids, who were all wearing
identical tee shirts.

We ambled over and stood next to the other kids. The
mouse worked his way down the line and finally got to

"Hello, little girl," the voice said from within. "What's
your name?"

"Amanda," came the half whispered reply.

"Hello, Amanda," the voice said in a fair impression of
the TV mouse. "I hope you have a good time at

The mouse walked away and Amanda stared after it.

"Gosh!" She said and looked at her hand and then up at me
with big round blueberry eyes. "I just shook Mickey's

"Yes, you did," I said and tried not to laugh.

We spent the afternoon and evening standing in line for
the rides, which I had to accompany her on since she
never seemed to come up to the plywood figure's hand
saying she had to be 'that tall' to ride alone. We did
the mountain and the log rides, then went over to the
small world and those damn pirates. Then we went into a
submarine and saw the undersea world and then rode in a
jalopy that straddled a metal track. She had cotton candy
and a candied apple and numerous glasses of lemonade.

We stood in line at restrooms and occasionally I would
sneak her into the men's room so that we didn't have to
wait so long. By the time the electric light parade came
on she was getting drowsy and soon her little head lie on
my shoulder and an arm draped around my neck. We followed
the rest of the crowd as we imitated Moses and his

The exodus continued into the streets and it was past
midnight before we got back to my place. She was barely
awake as I stripped off her clothes and pulled on the
oversized tee shirt. I took her to the bathroom and
listened to the tinkle as she went one more time. Then I
placed her in bed and tucked her in. I went out to the
living room and sat in front of the tube with a beer in
my hand.

I had dozed off watching some old gangster flick when a
yell brought me back.


I got up and ran into the bedroom to find Amanda sitting
up and crying. I wrapped her in my arms and rocked her
back and forth.

"What's wrong, honey?" I asked as I looked down into her
tear stained face.

"My tummy hurts," she told me.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?" I asked her at a loss
as to what I was supposed to do.

"I don't know," she said and I picked her up and carried
her into the bathroom and sat her down on the commode.

She sat there and moaned and I looked on helplessly. I
realized I had overindulged her and now we were paying
the price. I got a bright idea and I looked in my
medicine cabinet for some Alka-seltzer. I made the fizzy
concoction and offered it to her, but she took one whiff
and pushed my hand away. I told her to try and drink some
and she got down two mouthfuls before she gagged on the
third and vomited all over my bare feet. She gave out a
big burp as I was washing her down and I jumped back just
in case.

"I feel better now," she told me and I wished I could say
the same.

She brushed her teeth and went back to bed as I cleaned
up the bathroom. I joined her in bed when I finished and
realized we were both naked. She snuggled back into me
and I felt my cock stir. I tried to think of something to
take my mind off of sex and her vomiting seemed to do the
trick. I fell asleep with my arms wrapped around her.

I dreamed again that night; and it was about sex. This
time, I only dreamed of Amanda. She had a woman's body
with large breasts and hair on her pubis, but her face
was still that of a child. She had hair that went down to
the floor and her cunt was like a living thing as it
reached out and swallowed me whole. I dreamed that I was
drowning in her juices and had to hold on to her head
sized clit so that I wouldn't be pulled into her pool
sized cunt.

I woke with a start and looked down to see Amanda still
cradled in my arms. She snored lightly and her eyelids
jerked about as she went through her own REM phase. I
looked over my shoulder at the clock and it was only
three am. I lay my head back down and fell into a deep
sleep. There were no more dreams.

I woke in the morning and found the bed moving. I felt a
tight warmth around my cock and my first thought was that
she was sucking me off again. I realized then that I was
making the bed move as my hips thrust back and forth. I
heard a low grunt and looked down in horror as I realized
that my thick cock was sawing in and out of Amanda's ass.
I stopped suddenly and Amanda peered back over her
shoulder at me.

"Don't stop," she said.

"This isn't right," I whispered and pulled out of her.

My cock came out with an audible plop. Amanda turned to
face me. She had a strange look on her face.

"Why did you do that?" She asked.

I could tell she was confused. No man had ever not wanted
to fuck her there.

"It's not right, Amanda. A grown man shouldn't do that to
little girls. I'm sorry I did that, but I was asleep."

"I did it," she whispered.

"You did it?" I asked confused.

"Yes," she said, "I woke up and your peepee was big and
hard again and I know you didn't want me to put it in my
mouth again so it put it in my butt."

I opened my mouth to respond and then shut it again. I
didn't know what to say. I pushed up onto an elbow and
looked down at her.

"Amanda," I began and chose my words carefully. "What
your mother had you do to all those men, and what we've
done the last couple of days aren't things that men
should do with little girls."

"Why?" She asked.

"Because, little girls could get hurt and grown men
shouldn't take advantage of little girls and society says
that we aren't supposed to do those things. Not until you
are a big girl."

"Who is 'ciatee'?" She asked me.

"Society is the word we use when we want to describe all
the people in the world with one word," I told her.

"All the people in the world said that men can't do that
with little girls?" She asked and I could tell she wasn't
buying into that explanation.

I stared at her and tried to think of something else to

"What if the little girl likes it?" She said.

I was lost. I had no answer for that.

"Didn't you say that a lot of men hurt you when they put
their uh... peepees in your butt?" I asked her.

"Sometimes," she said.

"Well," I said, "that's why society says we shouldn't do
those things to little girls until they are old enough
that it doesn't hurt them or until they are old enough to
tell the man that they don't want to do those things."

"But, I can tell you if I don't want to do it," she

"Yes, but if I was a bad man you wouldn't be able to stop
me would you?" I asked her.

She thought about the logic of my question and then

"A lot of times, men did things to mommy that she didn't
want them to do, but they didn't stop even though she was
a grown up."

Her logic was impeccable. I didn't know how to continue.

"Does that mean you won't lick my peepee anymore?" She
asked me and pouted.

I fell back onto my pillow and groaned. No wonder I had
never joined the debate team.

"Amanda," I said after a while as I stared up at the

She scooted up so that she could look down into my face
and long tendrils of her hair fell forward and caressed
my cheeks. I could see her looking down at me as she
waited for the next words out of my mouth.

"Can you keep a promise?" I asked her.

"Un huhn," she nodded.

"I want you to promise me that you'll never do those
things with a man again. Not until you're a big girl."

She frowned and pursed her small mouth.

"Never ever?" She asked.

"Never ever," I repeated.

"Not even with you?" She asked.

I went to reply, but the words stuck in my throat.

"I'll promise if you promise that we can still do those
things," she said before I could find my voice.

This kid was going to be a lawyer. I just knew it.

"Uh," was all I could manage before the phone interrupted
our negotiations.

I sat up and picked up the phone.

"Hello!" I sang out.

"Billy," I heard my mother's voice say, "when you come
over today, please stop a Fagioli's and pick up some of
that ricotta cheese you like so much. I'm going to make
lasagna for dinner."

"Okay, mom," I said.

"When will you be over?" She asked.

"Probably around noontime," I told her.

"Okay. See you then," she said and was about to hang up
when I spoke out again.

"Mom!" I said loudly so that she would hear.

She brought the phone back to her ear and asked what I

"I'm going to be bringing someone over. I just wanted to
let you know," I told her.

"Is it a girl?" She asked with that ever hopeful motherly

"Yes," I told her, "it's a girl."

"Someone special?" She pressed.

"Yes," I told her, "It's someone special."

"Is it that Ann girl?" My mother asked. She wasn't too
fond of Ann and her braless ways.

"No," I told her with a smile in my voice. "Her name is
Amanda and she's six years old."

"Oh my!" My mother said. "Is it that little girl who lost
her mother. You're father was telling me about her."

"That's right, mom," I replied as I stared down into
Amanda's eyes. "And, please don't bring up that part,

"Okay, dear. I'll see you soon," she said and hung up.

I slid back down into bed and said, "Now. Where were we?"

Amanda had straddled my waist while I was on the phone
and now she scooted back a little and I felt my hard cock
press up against her little butt cheeks. She kept her
eyes fixed on mine as she rose up slightly and reached
behind her. I felt the head of my cock press against
something spongy and then something stretched around my
cock head. I saw her chew her bottom lip in concentration
as my cock slowly slid into her impossibly tight rectum.

"Dear God!" I muttered and felt my eyelids flutter as I
succumbed to the impossible ecstasy of my large cock
sliding into her very tight opening.

She sat on my cock for a minute as she adjusted to my
size. I could feel my cock throb and jerk as it enjoyed
its captivity. She moved slightly and pulled up a few
inches and then pushed back down. She did it again and
then again. I felt my cock slide in and out and held on
to her hips so that my hands would have something to do.

She continued to slowly pump her ass on my shaft until
she had loosened as much as she was going to. It was the
tightest feeling I'd ever had. The sensation of her anal
chute sliding up and down my cock shaft was exquisite.
She was making full strokes now and would rise up until
only my cock head was in her and then she would slide
down and engulf five or six inches of my cock.

I looked up into her eyes and found them glowing. She
actually enjoyed what she was doing. Her motions began to
increase and I felt my scrotum pull up into my groin. I
stared into her dark blue eyes as she concentrated on her
actions. Her motions were intent and she knew what she
was doing. I felt the surge in my loins and suddenly I
was assailed by my orgasm.

My back arched as my nerves electrified my body. My cock
spurted jet after jet of cum into her tight little ass. I
saw stars explode inside my eyelids and I thought I was
going to pass out. My toes curled up and I worried that
they would cramp. I held my breath and it whooshed out of
me as my body finally relaxed. It had been as intense an
orgasm as I'd ever had.

I opened my eyes and looked at my diminutive lover. She
stared back at me as though she was absorbing my
emotions. I realized then what this meant to her. It was
probably the only caring emotion she was ever shown. I
grasped her ass cheeks and slowly pulled her off of my
deflating cock. It fell out of her rectum and fell along
my thigh with a gentle, moist splat. I pulled her up my
body and she helped me as she realized what I was about
to do.

Her swollen woman sized cunt flowered before my eyes and
I pushed my tongue out to caress it. I heard Amanda moan
as I passed my tongue over her swollen clit. I found it
remarkable that this little urchin could produce those
juices and I lapped them up eagerly. I alternated between
driving my tongue in and out of her vulva and sliding it
up and down between her labia.

She would moan every time I pressed past her pleasure
button and she started moving her groin back and forth
showing me what she liked best. I concentrated on her
clitoris and she was soon moaning and shuddering in
sexual ecstasy. She fell to the side finally and we both
lie there and basked in our euphoria.

"I promise," she whispered a few minutes later and she
snuggled into my body.

I didn't know which promise she had just made, but at the
moment I didn't care. My thoughts turned to Monday and I
wondered what I could do to keep her with me - forever. I
was falling in love with this little six year old and I
didn't know if it was the love for a child or the love
for a lover. I would have to work that out later. For
now, I had to get her ready to meet my mother. Not an
easy task at any time, but I imagined it would be an
especially hard one for a recently orphaned child, who
was probably wondering what was to become of her.

My mother was an extremely gregarious woman who felt like
she had to take everyone under her wing. I carried Amanda
into the bathroom where we both faced the task of getting
her washed without making a shambles of her hairs. I
decided to let it dry naturally and just wrapped a towel
around it as we both went into the kitchen so that I
could scramble her some more eggs. We finished our
respective breakfasts and I put her plate and my cup into
the washer and took her into the bedroom to get dressed.
Her hair was drying slowly and I thought of going next
door again, but decided against it. I dressed Amanda in
her new dress and she twirled around in glee.

She skipped along besides me as we made our way up the
walk way that led to my parent's house. I carried the bag
with the cheese in it and Amanda carried a small bouquet
of flowers she'd picked out. The door burst open as we
stepped up onto the porch and my mother flung herself at
Amanda. Amanda went rigid under the onslaught and cringed
as my mother hugged her and cooed over her.

"You poor baby!" My mother wailed, forgetting her promise
not to bring up the recent tragedy.

Amanda bore up under the overbearance and then clutched
my arm once my mother released her. We followed the wild
woman into the house and I saw my father ensconced in
front of the television set. He looked up from whatever
he was watching and caught sight of Amanda. He looked up
at me and shook his head in exasperation.

Amanda saw my father and squeezed herself behind my legs.
I felt her tugging on my hand and I looked down at her.
She crooked a finger at me and I leaned down to hear what
she had to say.

"He was one of the men," she whispered.

My head snapped up as though I'd been kicked in the face.
I turned and looked over at my father and could see the
recognition dawn on his face. He looked up at me with a
shocked expression and I could see the color rise in his
face. He looked away from me then and took a deep swallow
of beer. He got up off of his lounge chair and pushed
pass me as he went through into the kitchen and out into
the garage.

I watched my mother stare at his back as he passed by her
and then she looked over at me with a quizzical
expression. I shrugged my shoulders and she went back to
working on her lasagna.

I squatted down again and whispered to Amanda.

"What did he do? Did he hurt you?"

"No," she shook her head. "He just liked it when I put
his thing in my mouth. Sometimes he would put his thing
in mommy's peepee and then put it in my mouth, but he
never hurt me like some of the bad men. He even brought
me that dress I used to have."

I stared past her at the door that led out into the
garage. I was trying to figure out what I should do next.

"He's your daddy?" She asked suddenly as it dawned on her
that we were caught up in a strange predicament.

"Yes, sweetie," I told her as I looked down into her big
blue eyes, "he's my father."

"I won't tell anybody," she said as she looked up at me
hoping that that would make everything all right.

I felt myself tear up as I hugged her to me. I looked up
and could see my mother watching us. She had a frown on
her face and a sad tilt to her mouth. The look changed to
one of tenderness as she saw Amanda wrap her arms around
my neck.

I took her into the living room and put her in my
father's chair. I tuned the set to a kids channel and
told her I'd be back shortly. I walked into the kitchen
and my mother gave me a hug then slapped my hand away as
I reached for a piece to cheese. I smiled at her and
turned to the garage door. I steeled myself and went
through it. I found my father standing at his workbench.
He was leaning on it with both arms outstretched like a
runner trying to catch his breath.

"Dad?" I asked.

My father turned to me and I saw the tears cascading down
his cheeks. His mouth worked as he tried to say
something, but nothing came out. I felt myself choke up
and I stood there helplessly and watched my father
torture himself with his thoughts. I finally moved up
behind him and placed a hand on his bowed back.

"It's okay, dad," I whispered. "I understand."

He looked up and his tear filled eyes searched my face.

"It... it... just happened," he said hoarsely. "Your mom
was going through the change, you know. And, she wouldn't
let me touch her. I... I... needed something. They
brought in this hooker during a sweep one night and she
was so pretty. I... I... found out where she worked and
one night I went by there and saw her. She had me drive
to this dirt road and said I could have a special treat
for an extra twenty bucks. Then this little girl came out
of the bushes. I... I... I don't know why, but I just had
to have her."

He broke down into sobs again and I put an arm around his
shoulders. He took in a deep breath and pulled out a
handkerchief to wipe at his eyes. He turned away quickly
as my mother opened the door.

"You men going to be out there all day?" She asked in

"We'll be in soon, Mom," I said over my shoulder. "We're
just talking about work."

"You boys should leave that stuff at the office. Bring
some more beer in when you come in. There's only a couple
left in the fridge."

"Okay, Mom," I said and smiled at her.

She closed the door and my father turned back to look at

"I... I... don't know if I can face your mother," he said
as he stared at the door. "And... and that little girl in
there. What if she says something? I don't know what I
would do."

I felt the panic in his voice. I knew how he felt.

"She won't say anything, dad. Come on, we can't stay in
here all day. Then, you'd really have mom wondering."

He nodded his head and then went and grabbed a six pack
of beer off one of the storage shelves. He straightened
his back and steeled himself then lead me back into the

The End

The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not "real life." Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
Kristen's collection - Directory 23

Anonymous 21/02/06(Sat)18:10 No. 27176 ID: e201b6

I read the discri[tion wrong at first and looked up this story but it's the wrong one. I bet someone will like it though so I'll post it anyways.

My One True Love
[ tg/b, 1st, hj, anal, inc, aunt, neph, ped ]
by Damien


Published: 1-Aug-2013

Word Count:

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This work is Copyrighted to the author. All people and events in this story are entirely fictitious.

My aunt, at the age of 31, was killed in an airplane crash when I was 11 years old. She was very pretty with an athletic body, long brown hair, hazel eyes and stood about 5ft 7in. She had a great sense of humor, always being funny and also was adventurous. She loved to travel, spending most of her time in the wilderness, hiking and camping. When she was home, she would always buy me things and take me places. Well that year, she gave me camping and hiking gear for my 10th birthday and about a week later, we went.

We drove to Pike National Forest in Colorado, got our things together, then hiked for 2 miles. We came to an open area and the view was beautiful. I could see miles and miles of mountain. It was exciting. We then hiked roughly 2 more miles to an old campsite. I helped my aunt setup the tent and put out our sleeping bags. I then gathered dry twigs and placed them into the fire pit, while she got our fishing poles ready.

She then took me to a stream and we fished for a couple hours. After cooking and eating the fish we caught, I was real tired, so I went to sleep. It was still daylight out, so my aunt didn't, instead she got things ready for tomorrow. I woke up cold and noticed it was night time. I tried warming up and going back to sleep, but couldn't stop trembling. I woke my aunt up and asked if I could sleep in her bag with her. As she said sure, I got out of mine and in with her.

We laid side by side with her behind me and as she was rubbing her hand up and down my side, trying to warm me up, she realized I was completely naked. She asked why and I told her it was hot when I laid down. She giggled while telling me we were on a mountain, so of course it would get cold especially at night. She pinched my butt and I jumped and giggled. After a few minutes of squirming from her pinching and tickling, I warmed up enough to fall asleep.

I remember turning over onto my back and as I did, I felt my aunt's hand slide off my hip and directly over onto my penis and balls. It startled me. I laid there not knowing what exactly to do. I mean I should've moved her hand away, but this was the first time being touched on my privates by someone other than myself. It felt different as it gave me butterflies in my stomach. My mother used to wash me down there, but I never had that feeling with her. My penis started getting hard under her warm hand and my heart began beating faster as an excited feeling came over me.

As my penis grew, I felt it slide between the crevice of two of her fingers. I couldn't believe how hard my penis became. I never had it to where it was throbbing like it was. I remember thinking how awesome the feeling was. It even had me breathing a bit faster. Suddenly, my aunt grasped around my penis and balls, sending a jolt up my spine and causing me to swallow air. It didn't hurt as she squeezed my penis between her fingers and my balls cup tightly in the palm of her hand. It actually felt amazing and a new feeling came, a much different feeling. My body tensed up and began trembling a little. I then felt my penis swell up and my ball sack tighten. Within seconds, my penis started jumping and it felt like pee was shooting out, but later finding out it was semen. My breathing quickened as this amazing orgasm washed over me.

I felt the liquid running down my balls and suddenly, her hand loosen up and trembled while removing it off me. She whispered my name, but I stayed pretending to be asleep. As the feeling passed, my penis shrunk down and I was able to breathe normally again. My whole body felt tingly afterwards and drained of energy. I was just about to drift off to sleep when I felt my aunt's hand slide over onto my privates. Her touch gave me goose bumps. She slide her hand under my little ball sack, placing it in her palm. She then closed her hand around my penis and sack while also lifting them up. Shortly after, she began rubbing her thumb up and down the top part of my penis, while also using her fingers to massage my balls. It felt amazing as she caressed my private parts.

It took a few seconds, but my penis grew hard and that excited feeling came back again. I began breathing heavily as she continued caressing. She then firmly wrapped a couple fingers and her thumb around my 3 inch penis and began stroking it up and down. My sack tightened and my penis swelled up. She picked up her pace and within seconds, my body went through another amazing orgasm. She kept stroking as my penis continued throbbing in her hand. As the throbbing slowed down, so did she, then eventually releasing it from her grasped. I wanted her to hold me, so I turned onto my side and she pushed herself up behind me. Even though she wore a shirt, I could feel her nice medium size breast pressing up against my back and her hot breath along my neck. I also felt the sleeping bag was all wet as it laid over my hip.

She suddenly reached over me and grabbed something out of her pack. After she got it, she turned away and was doing something as I heard a click, then another. Shortly after, I felt her up against me again, but then also felt cold wet fingers, a couple of them slide between my butt crack. She moved them around till she pressed up against my hole. She then spread my cheeks apart. I was confused why. Even more so, when I felt something else cold and wet, but bigger slide between my cheeks and stopping at my hole. She removed her fingers, then grabbed a hold of my hip.

A second later, I felt pressure against my hole. I can remember asking myself was this big object able to enter my butt and what exactly was it. I knew it wasn't her fingers, one hand was behind me and the other was on my hip, plus this thing was thicker, so it had to be an object she got from her pack. But why put it in my butt. Suddenly, my thought process was halted as the object pushed passed my opening, stretching my hole wide. A sound escaped my mouth as it scared me. My aunt said my name and I answered. She asked if I was okay and I said yeah, but then I asked what and why. All she said was to stay calm and relax and that she will explain it all later and also she promised it will feel amazing. So of course I believed her, she was my aunt and I loved her.

I then felt more pressure and more of the object enter my butt. It felt weird as it continued sliding in me. There was no pain, just a little discomfort as it stretched my hole about 2 inches wide, but it actually felt good. My penis became very hard while it slid further and further up in me. After a few seconds, the object stopped as her bare skin pressed up against my lower back and butt. It was pretty deep, about 6 inches and it actually felt very warm and not cold anymore. It was weird, kind of felt like a big turd that needed to be pushed out. She then slid her hand up to my chest and I held it in mine. I felt her hot breath and moist lips on my neck and shoulder. Suddenly, the object slid out then back in and her and I moaned. I felt it jump inside me and I quickly asked if she had a penis. She hesitated, but then said yes and also repeated that she'll explain later.

I don't know why, but hearing her say yes brought an orgasm to the surface. My penis began throbbing and my hole closed tight around her penis and my body shook. She moaned and as I erupted, she encouraged me to have as many as possible. I grunted and nodded. As I started to relax, she began sliding her penis in and out more quickly. I felt like I had to push and squeeze all the time, it was so uncontrollable, but yet felt so amazing as her penis slid so deep while rubbing against my insides. She thrust hard in me and I erupted with another orgasm. Even though I locked her deep, she kept thrusting against me. It was an all new feeling, a truly amazing feeling. I could barely keep up with my breathing. My butt eventually released it's grip and she was able to stroke herself in and out of me again.

My penis felt awesome as it kept jumping like when I orgasm and same for my butt hole continuing to spasm, but my balls began to ache. I then felt a lot of liquid on my side, my hip and upper thigh that was on the ground. Just as I thought my aunt would never stop, she did, but with one last hard thrust. She let out a loud moan and her penis swelled up and began throbbing in me. Within a second, I felt semen shoot inside me. It was hot and a lot of it. She kissed my neck as her orgasm slowly came down. Even my body began relaxing too.

I remember falling asleep with her penis still inside me and waking up to her sliding it slowly in and out of me. I moaned and she kissed my neck and said good morning. I became hard as she eased herself in and out of my butt. She was so slow and gentle. It was equally amazing to the night before. I began to move my hips with her. She reached around in front of me and began gently stroking my penis. I think she knew I would be sensitive. Several seconds later, I had another orgasm. She kept stroking it and I could feel her hand and my penis get all wet. She then slowly slid her penis real deep and erupted, pouring more semen into me. It was real nice as her penis pulsated as we laid there, but it eventually shrunk out of me.

I suddenly felt like I had to poop. I told her and she helped me to a bush outside, then gave me privacy. It was a bit weird to walk and hard to hold it in. I was a bit sensitive and weak. Well I went and at first, it was mostly air and semen, but then poop shot out. It also felt good to pee and weird how my insides felt empty. I cleaned myself and went back to the tent. My eyes shot wide open when I saw my aunt standing completely naked in front of me. I was speechless. She had a gorgeous body. It was tan, except for the bikini lines. My eyes traveled down to her beautiful pale white breast. She had small pinkish hard nipples and areolas. I continued down passed her flat tan tummy and pale white pelvic area to her privates. She was completely bald and her penis was pale white, except for the head which was pinkish. It was extremely cute as it hung limp a couple inches. Her ball sack was also pale white and didn't hang much. Fact, it was just little bigger than mine was. I went down her long smooth tan legs to her cute feet. My aunt then snapped me out of the awe state I was in by telling me to get dressed.

I couldn't keep my eyes off her while we got dressed. She even had a gorgeous tight ass. It was tan, but as she bent over, I could see the string tan line heading up her crack and around her waist. Well after we got dressed, she cooked us breakfast and explained the whole story to me. She started with when she was little a boy, and that she felt different. As she got older, she began living fully as a girl, and started taking medicine, working her way to be transsexual. She made sure I understood and I did and at age 18, I still do. I even told her, she's a beautiful woman and she smiled.

The thing that prompted me to write this story, was I was on the net searching through a porn site and a girl resembling my aunt almost to a tee came up. Bailey Jay is her name and amazingly, she is also a transsexual. It brought memories rushing back and so I figured I'd share some of them.

Anonymous 21/02/06(Sat)20:04 No. 27177 ID: e201b6

The Fenix. I wish there was more of this. Great story

Anonymous 21/02/16(Tue)05:55 No. 27189 ID: 2048a6

What's the character limit on here, anyway?

Anonymous 21/02/18(Thu)07:44 No. 27193 ID: c0bc49

Are there any verbatim lines you can remember, that might be googleable?
These sound interesting.

YetAnotherAnon 21/04/07(Wed)06:21 No. 27224 ID: 347849

Dear fellow Anons,

I am seeking the name of a erotic fiction I read more than a decade ago on a GeoCities website. The story was super long and author released new chapters ever few weeks. Details of what I can remember about the story was that it was about a teenage girl who one day laid jewel encrusted eggs. This lead to her eventual discovery that she was not only adopted, but actually s sort of human-like alien from a parallel world. The story included numerous fetishes and settings and expanded to eventually include fantasy elements, before in latter spoofing Dragon Ball Z. I'm wanting to say the name of the series was something like "The Merklova Saga" but I haven;t been able to find anything searching that name.

Anonymous 21/05/05(Wed)18:14 No. 27233 ID: bfc78e

I'm looking for a story, I wanna say it's a greentext story. It's about an anon who got a summer job as a swim instructor and slowly found out that it was basically just a sex ring.

Anonymous 21/05/08(Sat)14:22 No. 27237 ID: d0356a

Does anyone have the Mg story I think was just called "A start", beginning with a dude babysitting someone and taking a loooong time to fondle her while watching TV?

centaur from mr. double hst666 21/05/09(Sun)17:57 No. 27240 ID: feb44a

Does anyone have Centaur's stories from Mr. Double? I have Amy and Marie and primarily want Lisa, although I am interested in his other stories as well.

Anonymous 21/05/09(Sun)21:28 No. 27241 ID: ecd0a6

Seems only the first few posts were archived there. Does anyone have a full archive of this thread or at least the rest of the chapters?

Anonymous 21/06/09(Wed)12:12 No. 27267 ID: 41e1e7

Probably over 10 years ago, but remember reading a story on here about a guy, grown man with a family, suddenly getting a call where their new neighbours had to go out of town and asked if he could look after their 12yo daughter for a while. He then fucked her over and over and the little girl loved it. At some point her older sister is involved in the pool and sauna, and at the end it got really violent.

I must have read this around ten years ago or more. Maybe 07 or 08, even?

Anonymous 21/06/22(Tue)00:52 No. 27274 ID: 7b2e4b

Are we able to post links to other sites? I've got a story I've posted on AO3 since it involves some formatting

party of five party of five 21/06/28(Mon)05:54 No. 27290 ID: 88dce0

sounds like party of five but it's been a while

Anonymous 21/07/23(Fri)23:01 No. 27323 ID: 47194f

Hey, does anyone have an archive of Katmandu12's old, deleted stories from Hentai Foundry? There was some guy there who claimed to have saved them but he doesn't respond to anyone anymore.

Anonymous 21/08/09(Mon)09:30 No. 27349 ID: a9a16a

God, do you guys remember a story posted here years back, it cant remember if it was fictional or not but it was basically some old guy recalling events from his life, and how he fucked his sister, and had a really strong relationship with her? He fought a war, i dont remember if it was vietnam or ww2, but he had to go on assignment and she was there waiting for him. They ended up moving in together at one point and living the rest of their days until she died. If it was real i doubt hes still alive but it was a really cute story i hope to find again someday.

SRO 21/09/06(Mon)16:22 No. 27379 ID: 135337

"Susie and the Bear", now on page 8, eventually to disappear unless it gets bumped. I'm actually surprised that it's still on the site.

It's a thinly fictionalized account of true events in my half sister's and my life. Some details were changed to preserve our anonymity, and most of the dialog was completely invented because I couldn't possibly remember exactly what was said that many years ago; however I believe the essence and the spirit are intact.

Yes, I am still alive and reasonably well, in my mid-70's. I served in the Vietnam war from 1966 to 1970. Most of my former life is gone, along with my Angel. Our beautiful orchard and adobe house have been replaced by a vast tract of new housing.

Writing these memoirs has been a catharsis for me, and sharing them here has been a blessing. You have all been very kind to indulge me. Sex was always an integral part of my sister's and my relationship, and our story would not be complete, or even exist, without it.

Story from AO3 Anonymous 21/09/12(Sun)01:44 No. 27382 ID: 4ad580

Does anyone have the story Cocky Confidants: Makoto Niijima's Sisterly Stalling? It was recently pulled off of AO3. It was the Niijima sisters from Persona 5 fucking in a shower. Sae had a dick and there were watersports involved.

Anonymous 21/09/27(Mon)06:32 No. 27386 ID: d22819

Trying to find a stor, not posted here but maybe someone remembers reading it. It was fron a guy's POV and had several chapters. The guy talks about how he starts fucking his younger sister and how she eventually confesses she was corrupted by one of her friend's dad. On one chapter his siter and her friend are sleeping over her friend's house and they are runningg around in just their underwear and the dad eventually gives them horsey rides, then the same guy has sex with both of them in his hot tub. Then she starts having sex with her brother and one of his friends, and even the friend's dad.

I can't for the life of me remember the author or title.

Anonymous 21/11/06(Sat)12:19 No. 27426 ID: 017b0a

Sorry to reply so late; hope you’re still checking in. I’m pretty sure what you’re looking for is Balling Lil Sis by Lasiter. It’s still up on his page at asstr :)

Anonymous 22/01/03(Mon)12:47 No. 27490 ID: 1e03fd

back in aug 2021 i found a downloadable archive of all mr double palisade stories on some website with a name like acestories or something like that, can anyone recall that url?

Anonymous 22/01/05(Wed)16:38 No. 27494 ID: ba926e

The webmaster of Mr Double was convicted last year in federal court for running an obscene site and is now enjoying his roll as the new Mr Hands in Federal PMITAP.

The MrDouble servers had been siezed much earlier. Coincidently, or maybe not, the week that he was convicted both ASSTR and 7chan went down for a number of days.

I suspect that any Mr Double archive is now an evidence honey pot. The FBI ran Ranchi, one of the largest CP forums, effectively encouraging and condoning the rape of kids to obtain compromat and the odd conviction. So running an archive server is nothing.
I don't know why I'm warning you, anyone who wanks to toddler porn and gets no-knocked by HRT isn't exactly deserving of sympathy.

Anonymous 22/02/01(Tue)07:03 No. 27534 ID: b5605c

Looking for a story I read a long time ago, it was about some guy who just moved to a new area and has sex with various girls there.

He eventually goes steady with a lesbian he manages to court. I distinctly remember the lesbian's friend being called Pepper.

Anonymous 22/02/07(Mon)10:19 No. 27544 ID: 6712b7

looking for a slave story i read a very long time ago. it was focused on slave training, in a camp where slaves were trained to be perfect and sold. the main characters name started with an m, merren or merry or something, and she was a natural slave and took very well to training. the story had a thing where a good slave could manifest a tantible leash between them and their dominant, made of the feelings of pure submission. there were multiple slave trainers, i think one of them was named tabitha

Oldfag Lurker 22/03/12(Sat)17:12 No. 27568 ID: 012039

This is a wicked long shot, but I'm trying to find a story that I'm mortified to say is now at least 13 years old. It was an untitled piece by someone who called themselves Pervert of Words and it was about two young boys who start fucking regularly after one of them walks in on the other masturbating in the bathroom at school. I found the first part of the post in an archive from 2010, but the full post wasn't archived so I can't read the rest of it, and googling brings up nothing. If it helps, the story starts out: "Ever since I caught him masturbating in the school lavatory, we've been inseparable. We've known each other ever since 1st grade, although we've never really talked. Neither of us had many friends, but we didn't really try anyway. We were both in the 7th grade, I recently turned 13, but he still had some months to go. I had, and still have, short black hair, which often has a mind of it's own, an infinite source of irritation for my mother. His hair, however, reached his shoulders, was almost snow-white, and smooth as silk." If anyone's got any leads, give me a holler.

Anonymous 22/03/12(Sat)17:13 No. 27569 ID: 77d0e5

Puppy Mill by T'Sade

Lady Damaris Anonymous 22/04/04(Mon)00:44 No. 27579 ID: ff3844

Lady Damaris

Let me preface by saying I'm a skinny, white, 18 year old male. I'm not particularly tall - average height I guess? My style is kinda rocker/skater/alternative, with longish hair. I grew up and spent most of my teen years in Greenfield Massachusetts, which has a rural, small town community vibe. Anyway, last year, my dad found a new job in downtown Boston -- so we moved to a suburb just outside of Boston, Winthrop. It is a nice coastal town -- quiet and clean compared to other cities surrounding Boston. We rented an apartment in a 3 family home. This was kind of a shock for me, considering I was used to rural life -- with a single family home and lot's of space to run around outside.
We rented the second floor apartment.
The first floor had an old couple, while the third floor was rented by a woman with two children approximately my age. Her name was Damaris and she was in her early 40's -- she was Latina/Puerto Rican. One of the first things to catch my attention about Damaris was her body and shape; she had a tiny waist and flat stomach, but a BIG "bubble butt" and thighs -- she also had big, round tits and sometimes wore V-neck
shirts that gave you a nice cleavage view. I found myself for the first time in my life to really lust after a woman. She was completely different from the women I'd come across in Western Massachusetts -- in both her accent, skin color and body shape. I'm not going to lie, I found myself fantasizing about her frequently. Imagining what her body might look like without clothes, what it would feel like to touch her, or be touched by her -- her taste. I hadn't actually had sex yet, I did fool around with a couple non-serious girlfriends back in Greenfield and even
received a "blowjob" but not full penetration. I masturbated to these thoughts of Damaris quite often, cumming extremely hard and thick. Otherwise, she was a friendly woman, and I'd often help her carry in groceries if her children weren't around,
since she had no car and already had been lugging them around for a while before she even made it home. I didn't really know anyone in my area yet, even her kids, despite being my age, didn't care to bother with me; but that didn't surprise me, with had very different styles and interest. I'm sure I didn't fit into their definition of "cool."
I got a part time job at CVS down the street -- I had a lot of free time and figured I might as well earn some money to save for a shitty car.
So that's what I did -- I stayed busy by working.
One Tuesday, while I was walking in from work, Damaris, was also coming home with several bags from the grocery store; I offered to help, which she delightfully accepted. I IMMEDIATELY noticed her gym clothes -- tight spandex -- WOW!
I followed her up the stairs, my eyes locked on her ass cheeks as they jiggled with every step. The feeling of lust and horniness that suddenly filled my brain and body was unlike anything I have felt before. Of course, I had been attracted to and excited by females at school, in public or when watching porn, but NOTHING like this
before! Her ass was so round and chubby -- almost like two melons. I loved to watch them lift up, squeeze together and jiggle with each stair.
I had this primal urge that I needed to fuck her -- like my life and well being depended on it. It almost got to the point where I wanted to touch her and dry hump her right then and there, which luckily, I was able to refrain myself from doing.
We made it into her apartment and I put the groceries down in the kitchen. She thanked me with a big smile, I said, no problem, as I headed for the door. She said "Hey, do you know how to transfer pictures from a cell phone to a tablet?" I said "yeah, it only takes 5 minutes -- well, maybe longer depending on how many pictures",
she asked if I would help her transfer them in a couple hours after she takes a shower and cooks dinner.
"Sure, no problem" I said.
I go upstairs and just relax.
I go back up and knock on her door around 8pm.
She answers with a smile and again tells me how much she really appreciates this. She is wearing pajama pants and a tank top -- again, her body is phenomenal. She takes me into her bedroom and her phone and tablet are on the bed, she shows them to me and I begin to transfer the pictures; her phone rings - interruption, it was either her son or daughter, not sure which since she was talking in Spanish over the phone. She gets off and says, "Sorry, my kids needed me for something, can you wait a few minutes, I need to call their dad." I say, "No problem, can I use your bathroom," she says sure, and shows me where it is.
I need to pee badly!
As I'm peeing, I notice her gym clothes on the floor.
As I look closer, I notice her panties still in her spandex pants. I get an incredible urge to touch and smell her panties, knowing they must be dirty and sweaty from the gym, etc. I pulled them out of her spandex -- sure enough, they're still very moist and sweaty.
My heart raced.
I listened and could hear her on the phone still, she was shouting a bit, but was speaking Spanish, so I had no idea what she was saying.
I lifted her panties to my face -- I could smell pussy, sweat and ass, I began to lick the crotch, they were still sweaty enough I could taste her.
My cock was so hard it was pulsating.
I decided I need to jerk. I sat on the toilet, pulled out my rock hard cock and began rubbing her panties up and down my cock's shaft and head.
It felt incredible -- the thought of rubbing her pussy and ass sweat all over my cock put me over the edge. Fuuuuckkk -- I wasn't going to last long. I spread open the crotch of her panties and came long and hard. I came
so much, I couldn't believe it -- spurt after spurt; her panties' crotch looked like it had yogurt in it, I came so much (not to sound gross).
I was drained.
Shit -- I threw her panties back in to her spandex gym pants and left the bathroom. She was just getting off the phone as I was walking into her room, she looked pissed off.
"Sorry I was on the phone for so long, my kids dad is being a dick"
"No problem" I said -- phew, I was relieved she didn't realize I was in the bathroom kind of a long time.
I began transferring the pictures and she began to talk -- A LOT! I noticed alcohol on her breath and she began to vent to me about personal stuff, her age, her issues with her children's father and how bad this month of December was turning out for her.
She looked down and embarrassingly admitted that she is going to be $250 short on rent this month and she doesn't know what she is going to do.
I really didn't know what to say, considering she was an adult woman and I was just a teen with limited life experiences.
I said "Wow, that sucks, I'm so sorry -- wish there was something I could do"
She smirked and said "thanks"
I said -- "hey, let's exchange numbers in case you ever need help, I'm constantly bored and don't mind helping"
She nodded "OK -- 617. . . . . ..."
I left and went downstairs to the apartment, watched TV and passed out.
I couldn't get her out of my head now -- at home, in bed, at work, EVERYWHERE! I still continued to say hi and
help her carry up groceries whenever the occasion arose.

The weekend before Christmas, my father was away for work.
One Friday night, after work, I came home and was bored and horny -- I contemplated jerking off but became side tracked when I noticed a bottle of Absolut vodka. I didn't drink often, but decided to try; I mixed it with
orange juice and had a few mixed drinks.
It wasn't long before the buzz crept up on me.
I was just sitting there, alone, when a bold thought crossed my mind.
I picked up my phone and text Damaris.
Me: Hey how ru?
Damaris: Hi OK thanks you?
Me: I don't mean 2 bother u but I can help u with the 250
Damaris: Uhhh. . ..wat do you mean, how?
Me: Promise u wont get mad, its just an idea.
Damaris: Uhoh. . .ok what?
Me: I know u need that money bad. . .honestly I find u to be the most beautiful woman I ever met and im a virgin and if you would just let me worship ur body for even 10 minutes ill give u the money.
Damaris: WTFFF! Are you fucking crazy! Im not a hooker and I don't fuck kids as young as my son and daughter, ur fucked up, don't contact me again. . .WOW
Me: OK Im soooooo sorry please forgive me im drinking here.
Damaris: OK bye. . .delete my number
I was horrified over what I just did -- I thought about her telling my dad or just simply the awkwardness that would soon be an everyday occurrence.
FUCK MY LIFE! What an idiot!
I had another shot -- actually several shots. I just wanted tonight to be over.
I woke up with a headache and realizing last night was not a dream.
I stayed in and avoided going out -- this was Saturday.
Around 8:30 Saturday night, I was sitting in my room zoning out when I heard my cell phones receiving a text
sound. WTF, I figured it was my dad -- "what the hell does he want?"
When I look at my phone, it was Damaris!
Damaris: hi can we talk?
Me: ok sure, when?
Damaris: now if possible.
Me: where?
Damaris: not sure. . .my kids are here.
Me: U can come here, my dads gone for the weekend.
Damaris: K coming down now
Oh shit! What's this about?
My stomach felt sick -- this isn't good.
There was a knock at the door -- I hesitantly answered it. It was Damaris, "Hey, can I come in?"
"Uhh yeah, of course."
I immediately apologized profusely, begging her to forgive me, I was drunk and to not tell my dad. She just looked at me.
She snapped -- "Look white boy, you're too young and I'm not into white guys, but I need this money now, and I can't think of any way to get it in such short notice. If you swear on your life to keep your mouth shut, maybe we can help each other out?"
My mind is spinning -- what is happening?
"Uhm yeah -- of course I would never say anything, I swear!"
OK -- she says, "Do you have the money on you now?"
"Yeah, in my room" We walk in, and I grab a container that I keep my money in. I count out $250 and hand it to her.
OK -- where do you want to start she says?
I freeze up a bit -- "ahhh, I don't know."
I sit her on the bed and begin to touch her big breasts. I rub, caress, pinch and squeeze. I cup them and tell her
"wow, they're heavy!" She even laughed at that. My heart was racing, I'm not sure what to do.
Wow -- these were nothing like the small, pink tits I've experience with girls from school, these were big and heavy -- tits of a woman who has had kids. I have her lean back on my bed -- I lift her shirt a little and begin to caress her stomach, then work my way down to her thighs. She is wearing these grey leggings so I can really see every curve of her body. I nervously touch her thighs and hips then work my way inward towards her pussy mound. I begin rubbing her pussy, I'm looking at her face and she's not able to make eye contact with me. I begin to rub harder, up and down the length of her slit; I begin to notice her breathing becoming heavier as she begins to spread her legs more, giving me better access, I start to really play with her pussy, I'm almost in a frenzy; her legs are fully spread and I'm
rubbing and almost finger fucking her through her leggings.
I want her to roll over.
She does -- laying flat on her stomach.
I begin to massage that amazing fat ass of hers! It feels so nice and warm, soft yet toned. My adrenaline and hormones are through the roof at this point.
I pull her leggings down around her knees
I spread her cheeks giving me a view of her dark asshole and pussy. My head instantly buries between her cheeks. I begin to eat her asshole, I don't hold back either, I lick around her hole, then bury my tongue into her asshole, tasting as much as I can as her little black hairs around her ass tickle my mouth. Honestly, I love the taste, she had such a beautiful ass and to taste her asshole and sweat was amazing. I then
shot my tongue over to her pussy hole. I ate her a little from behind, then turned her back over onto her back and had her spread her legs. She hadn't shaved for a little while -- "Sorry, I definitely wasn't expected to get eaten out" as she semi laughed.
I don't care, her dark hair on her dark pussy made me want it more.
I bury my face between her legs, latching on her clit -- at this point, her bucking hips, it's obvious that she is getting stimulated by my oral skills :D I eat her voraciously -- it's not long until I hear her say "Oh fuck, I'm going to cum"
This makes my tongue attack her clit even more. She starts to cum hard, covering her mouth with a pillow, while she shoves my face between her legs and holds it there with her other hand.
At this point, I need to cum and cum bad.
I have her move up the bed, take off her shirt and open her legs. Wow her tits are amazing -- big and full, caramel color with big dark nipples, I move in between her legs as I play with her big Puerto Rican titties, I lean down and suck them, latching on to her nipples, sucking them hard; I notice this is definitely a turn on for her, she has sensitive nipples. I'm also naked as I move in closer. She blurts out -- "fuck I can't believe I'm doing this" as she covers her face with her hand. Her legs are spread as I position my thin, white cock inches from her dark, Latin pussy.
My head hits her wet, hairy pussy lips -- I thrust and the feeling is indescribable as her wet pussy wraps around
my cock. She lets out a moan as my cock bottoms out in her pussy.
She wraps her legs around my skinny frame, holding me into place.
Everything about this position was perfect, the room was so cold and being on top of her, her legs wrapped around me, my cock deep in her wet pussy and my face on her tits. It was so warm and wonderful. I could stay like this forever. I began to pick up pace as I sucked on her erect nipples, rock hard from me sucking on them.
She began to say "You like this papi?"
I could barely respond.
She continued to say, "You like mami's pussy baby?", "Mami likes your young white cock."
This was getting too much, I thrust deep a few times making her convulse as I began to shoot cum deep in her pussy. I was loud as I came -- "ahhh, ahhh shit. ..ahhhhhhh" Her body became tense -- shit I was cumin a lot, I could feel my cock muscles contract with each spurt. She could feel it too.
"Oh shit papi -- I can feel your cum inside of me."
I collapsed on top of her -- my head rested on her tits as she caressed my hair. I have never felt this good before-- pure euphoria.
"Good boy" she says, as my cock grows soft and slips out of her.
She tells me she has to go back upstairs, her kids are probably wondering where she is.
I roll over and watch her get up.
Her body is amazing -- the epitome of sexiness and femininity.
I instantly became hard again as I watched her bend over to pick up her clothes. Her pussy was smeared all over with my cum, her dark pussy really made my white cum stand out. She said "Wow" and she squatted --squeezing out a clump of my sperm. She looked at me and said "You should be careful, you're going to end up getting a girl pregnant, and you're too young for that."
She then bent over to pick up more clothes -- I couldn't control myself, I jumped up grabbed onto her hips and forced my cock deep into her pussy -- it slipped in easily with all my cum as a lube.
She shrieked -- "Aye!"
I wasn't done yet. . ..

Anonymous 22/04/08(Fri)09:30 No. 27580 ID: 1051b3

I'm a sucker for a good seduction/corruption/sex education story (Mf), any recommendations? I saw a post about a guy with a pool seducing both a mother and daughter on this post but mo 9ne replied with the rest of it. Looking for something along those lines.

Rachael Avarie!!IuBGZ0LmOz 22/04/11(Mon)19:39 No. 27583 ID: 91eacd


Just archived some stuff from the last page of the board.

Nicole Anonymous

Rise of the Harem Nation HigherMoose

Warcraft XXX a dirty parody Bigbuddah

Anna the Teen Cum Dumpster Anonymous

Something I found long long ago..... ? Who Me ?

The New Box | TG, MF TG_Wave

Accidental Motherfucker Evil+Empire

Being Sociable (pedo, Mg, molestation, anal) Univited/Uncle+Rick

Anonymous 22/04/26(Tue)04:44 No. 27596 ID: 858303

New Friends, by Halcyon


Anonymous 22/04/30(Sat)00:16 No. 27600 ID: c1d122


if you want the complete ASSTR archive before the crashes began, I have a torrent for you:


source: https://www.reddit.com/r/DHExchange/comments/7fl535/s_entire_archive_of_asstrorg_ftp_site_up_to_may/

It is still online and I'm seeding, don't want that to die. 9 gig of old pornstories from the glorious internet ages.

Anonymous 22/05/01(Sun)07:07 No. 27602 ID: 0669a8

Story I read here a super long time ago:
A girl asks her mom to take her dildo/vibrator shopping and then the mom helps her use it
Would extremely appreciate if anyone can find it

LF Summer RV Trip by Stonebrow anon 22/05/13(Fri)21:30 No. 27610 ID: 01272e

anyone know where this story could be found? It doesn't seem to be anywhere

Anonymous 22/05/25(Wed)13:06 No. 27612 ID: 0d63ba

Anyone have sadsack2008 story collection?

Anonymous 22/06/29(Wed)17:24 No. 27624 ID: 8568cf

looking for a link or source for the FULL 4chan column incest story, every old link to google drives or image sites are dead/scrubbed/incomplete.

This is the first half but its missing the rest
https://docs google.com/document/d/1qQG6ccMupLym55SXRntkQbU0F6Mc3WSb3FOELIFuZzc/edit

AKA columns crusade, columns wild ride

Anonymous 22/07/16(Sat)20:31 No. 27636 ID: 04ad19

Looking for a story, dont know the site or the name.

Guy is attracted to young girls
He meets a witch and gives her a kiss in exchange for timestop powers, super sperm and a child friendly dick
He has sex with all the kids in a park or such
Each girl he had sex with, when able to become pregnant, is impregnated by him immediately despite it being years since the sex
He has sex with his daughter and grand-daughters, who were all convieced through timestop
The government catches him and locks him in some lab and his granddaughter/great grand daughter comes and saves him with her magic powers (because incest is magic)

Anonymous 22/08/09(Tue)17:33 No. 27643 ID: c945dd

So is asstr.org just dead now?

Anonymous 22/08/18(Thu)20:57 No. 27645 ID: 04ad19


No idea why site is down. Apparently the DNS was working so it was a server issue or such but IDK more.

theres a google group, alt.sex.stories.d, thats discussing a replacement though not many seema ctive on it. Apparently the ASSTR owner knew about it but might have forgot.

I have a mirror from a month or so before it went down, I'll package it and upload at some point.

Anonymous 22/09/22(Thu)00:23 No. 27673 ID: ffb8af

>storiesonline is cringe and costs money
>asstr is dead
There really should be a text-booru for elit.


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