on her home computer - erotic story posts especially. Problem is, it just made her hotter. Reading about young girls making out with their brothers, their brothers' friends - even their fathers, just made her want to experience such things first hand...as it were. She knew boys at school found her attractive, it was just a matter of orchestrating her own little sex-ed class.

     Her first foray into the realms of the erotic was not entirely fulfilling.
 
     Eric Lander at sixteen was something less than Rhett Butler let's say. As keen as her to encroach upon the hitherto unexplored playing fields, his modus operendi left a lot to be desired.

    "Ouch...take it easy," Kirsty implored as the boy's hand groped her right breast with raw enthusiasm rather than any sense of respectful gentility. Wedged beneath the moveable stairs in the main hall wasn't without its discomfort either.

     "Sorry Kirsty," he muttered, almost perspiring in the confined space. Attempting then to balance his amateurish kissing technique with some less invasive breast therapy, he became aware of needful changes taking place in the area of his crotch as might any schoolboy handed such sexual latitude with so apparently willing a girl.

     The sensation of having her breasts touched for the first time almost made up from Kirsty's perspective at least, for the indelicate treatment being meted out to them. She could feel her nipples hardening all the same and at the point the boy summoned up the courage to slip is hand down her top and actually inside her bra...she gave a small yelp of semi-pleasured surprise.

   "I didn't say you can feel me up under my clothes," she giggled, yet making no attempt to dislodge his fingers from their tour of duty. It was at the point both of them discovered the pleasures inherent in nipple manipulation that things took a turn for the better.

     The kissing became more impassioned, the groping more daring, she even let him undo a couple of buttons of her school-dress which bringing the visuals into play additionally, decidedly upped the ante for young Eric. Able to see what he was now molesting with what you might term 'committed' vigor, quite stirred the lad's fantasies. Crotch-wise, things were on the up and up - Eric needed more!

     Initially embarrassed as all hell, far from regretful at allowing her classmate to extricate her undeniably sexy breasts from their padded restraints, she rather liked the sensation of having them fully on show as they now were and very obviously stimulating her young partner's arousal. She had an overwhelming urge to slip her hand in her panties but retained the presence of mind to recognise that such might not be the most appropriate of actions. Besides - surely Eric himself would make that his own game plan, sooner rather than later?

     Whether the boy lacked the necessary confidence to engage any up-skirt action or he was gripped suddenly by a fear of the unknown is anyone's guess. All Kirsty knew is that despite wriggling her hips invitingly, even to the point of parting her legs just enough to ensure that the hem of her dress rose enticingly up her thighs - Eric's hand remained a no-show. "This never happened to any of the girls in those stories," she thought to herself, bitterly disappointed by the turn of events...or rather lack of events.

     Calling time-out from what amounted now to little more than Eric's primitive lip suction, she pulled the boy's hand out from her bra, manoeuvered her breasts back on-site and doing-up the buttons of her school-dress, told her disbelieving partner that she "had to go home." 

    "Definitely time for Plan B" she told herself.

     As is the case with most sixteen-year old girls, dressed-up to the nines and with some professionally applied mascara, eye-liner and lipstick, no-one would doubt they had reached the age of legality. Being in possession too of her older sister's ID, put the issue firmly beyond question. Exactly what the doorman at the Regency Club on Dorchester was thinking as he handed Kirsty back her ID, was made clear as his eyes took in every rearward curve of the young girl, as she navigated the stairs to the reception area behind him. So sure was she that he was watching her, she swung those sexy little hips with exaggerated tease.

     Walking with what might have appeared to be entrenched confidence to the nearby Victory bar, she ordered a diet Coke and seated herself at one of the small tables along the far wall. Inside, she was anything but 'together' almost trembling with the knowledge she was placing herself in a situation way beyond that which a sixteen-year old schoolgirl was realistically equipped to handle. Still, she reasoned - that was Plan B wasn't it? 

    "Hello Miss," interrupted her reverie. "Don't suppose you would like some company by any chance?"

     Looking-up at the speaker, she rather liked what she saw. A clean cut young man in a business suit - most likely in his early twenties. She smiled at him, "Well actually I was just waiting for a friend." She replied.

    "Male or female?" he asked tentatively, his preference quite obvious.

    "Just a girlfriend," she giggled. 

     The young man looked relieved. "My name's John," he said holding out his hand.

    "I'm Kirsty," she replied, "Pleased to meet you."

    "Look, I'm just here with a few guys from work," he indicated a table the other side of the lounge area, where four men of a similar age were sitting and chatting animatedly. "Would you like to come and sit with us for a while - just till your friend arrives anyway," he added hopefully. "They're all nice guys Kirsty - you're really quite safe." He reassured her.

      She looked up at him. "Might this perhaps be pushing my luck?" she wondered, though with little intent of declining the invitation.

     Four pairs of eyes appraised the well-defined attributes of the young girl as she drew nearer the table. The low-cut top, well fitting skirt (brief as it was) stockinged legs and subtle make-up, merely enhancing the overall appeal. There was at once, a mad scramble to find her a chair. Introductions completed, all present wanted to know where she lived, worked etc.

    "Just in my second year at Uni actually," she lied effortlessly. Knowing sufficient details of her sister's syllabus, she was able to field questions about her courses and University life with ease. Inevitably, the question of her having a full-time boyfriend arose. She bypassed that one with a coy "No special person yet" admission. You could have heard the collective sighs reverberate around the table.

    "Can we get you a drink Kirsty?" enquired the young man who had introduced himself as Mark a little earlier. Agreeing to a bourbon and Coke, she watched bemused as he tried unsuccessfully to carry an armful of drinks back to the table, before accepting an offer from the barman to take a tray.

     Well behaved the group certainly was, though what thoughts they must have been harboring as Kirsty negotiated her third bourbon and Coke can only be guessed at. A couple of the men had dragged their seats either side of her and the rest were performing their very best puppy-dog imitations.

     Though far from drunk, the alcohol had greatly lowered Kirsty's inhibitions whilst heightening her flirtatiousness. Not a man there could wrench his eyes from her cleavage - nor would she have wanted them too if the truth be known.

     Once the likelihood of any 'girlfriend' turning up became suitably remote, the group became even more attentive. Mark even seized the initiative at one stage, touching the girl on the arm one or twice for emphasis during the conversation. Her acceptance of such familiarity was doubtless noted by the other four.

      Halfway through her fourth glass, Kirsty was, if not partially inebriated, then 'happy' by anyone's standards, giggling at the slightest provocation and with a severe list to port.

    "Think I'd better be on my home," she semi-slurred. "Had way more than I should," at which point she generated a spontaneous little 'hic.'

    "Hey, we can drop you home Kirsty," chorused three or four offers simultaneously. Mark's the most poignant.

     Wedged between John and Charles in the back of the Town car they helped her on with her seat belt. If the momentary contact with the underside of her breasts by the back of Charles' hand was anything but 'accidental,' he carried it off well. She felt a blush rising but said nothing. Suddenly she felt the mere schoolgirl she really was, the imminency of so many young males, exciting her as much as the risky situation at hand. 

     They rode for maybe a mile without conversation, then feeling obliged to make some comment, she turned to John just as he inclined his head towards her. It was as it happened just a brief kiss - a teaser if you will, but given the confined space in that car, the alcoholic over-ride and the blueprint that Nature set down eons ago, it wasn't to stay brief. 

     Not even bothering to resist, she let him kiss her again, a lot more passionately this time - his heart was really in it. She felt a hand grasp her arm and turning her head, had time for but a fleeting gasp of surprise before Charles' lips closed over hers. His kiss was longer and deeper and she felt herself floating with the outgoing tide - maybe it was incoming!

    "Nooo," she mumbled, breaking off from Charles' lips, not really wanting to but feeling the obligation to at least dislodge John's hand from her breast.

    "Let me Kirsty," he muttered, "You really are so hot. I promise I won't hurt you."

     With Charles guiding her wonderfully sexy little lips back to his own mouth and her own hormones running on super-high octane themselves, she managed but a fully non-committal sigh and sank back against the car's upholstery. Re-establishing contact with her breast, John began fondling the softness beneath which caused Kirsty to murmur in between kisses.

    "Hey, cut that out guys," Mark yelled, having noticed the trio's performance in the car's rear-vision mirror. "That's so totally unfair on us three here," he bewailed.

    "Keep your eyes on the road Mark," John chided him. "We're just making sure she doesn't go to sleep," he laughed. 

     Kirsty was feeling many things, not the least of which was total disorientation. Kissing both Charles and John alternately now, she felt both their hands on her breasts and the sensations afforded them was making her gasp with escalating pleasure. Her sense of self-preservation dulled by both the alcohol and the shared kissing, she allowed them the latitude they needed to maul her young breasts every which way. Even when John seized the initiative and slipping his hand down her top began kneading her small nipples between his thumb and forefinger, she began to wriggle involuntarily on the seat, unaware of the fact this was causing her hem-line to inch higher. So far as being molested was concerned, Kirsty had no illusions now that two men's hands down her breasts were a vastly more effective proposition than a sixteen-year old schoolboy's clueless fumblings.

      It was Julian's imploring "Get them right out guys, lets see her nipples," that re-aligned the playing field. Leaning over the front seat decidedly the worse for wear alcoholically, he nevertheless could still recognise a searingly hot opportunity when it presented itself - especially one supposes, in the back seat.

      Still with sufficient awareness to gauge her predicament, Kirsty grasped at her top with a shrill "Nooo, don't undress me," as John endeavored to free up the top few buttons of her blouse. Her resistance was half-hearted though and with Charles kissing her senseless, she just melted between them and permitted their hands free rein. Pulling aside the gaping material, Kirsty's bra was fully exposed now and slipping a couple of fingers each, beneath the bra cups themselves they tugged the somewhat skimpy little protector sufficiently high that her breasts were fully exposed to all but Mark who was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on his driving skills.

    "God she looks like a young schoolgirl," Julian almost wheezed. Had he known the truth he would have alighted from the car at the next stoplight.  The fact is though, her breasts did look like those of a rather young girl - mind you, no-one was complaining.

     Right that second, Charles lowered his head and began suckling her left nipple. She felt what might have been a sharp electrical discharge, yet was powerless to stop a small moan from escaping her lips, even as the shock-wave travelled the highway south, right to the buffers between her legs. She would have been no more able to back-out at this juncture than she could translate "Hey Jude" into Japanese.

     Occasionally one sees things when out driving that make it all worth while. So it was for the occupant of the grey Camry as it pulled up for the stop light at Eastern and  Rockwell. Cursing his luck in missing the light, the middle-aged driver let his gaze wander to the car on the right. Able to make out clearly the young girl wedged between her two male companions in the rear set, he had a momentarily perfect view of her exposed breasts and the fact that the man on her right was sucking her nipple with undisguised relish. Given additionally that her co-partner appeared to be pulling and fully mistreating her left nipple while two other men leaned across from the front seat intent on further mischief, it is no surprise that he had barely mouthed the words "What the F---?" when the Lincoln accelerated through the intersection leaving him doubting his sanity

     Whether they had ever intended to take her home first is a moot point. When a young girl is riding in the back seat of a car willingly with five men, two of whom have her breasts out sucking her nipples silly, then you gotta be thinking at the very least a temporary stopover. Julian certainly was when he muttered, "C'mon guys lets take her back to my place, it's just fifteen to twenty minutes from here."

     Suckling a young student was certainly paying dividends for John's libido but the real prize he knew lay but inches distant, up inside the hem of that sexy little skirt.  Figuring to take the offensive, he kissed her with even greater passion, at the same time slipping his hand well up between the girl's thighs.

      The sensation of the young man's hand against the inside of her leg as it worked its way further within the forbidden zone should have set alarm bells ringing. All it did though was make her hotter than hell and other than a brief "Noooo, please not there" which achieved nothing but an increase in each participants' desire, she merely spread her legs wider. 

     Reaching her panties, John was one happy little Vegemite. ('Aussieism' for the benefit of North American and European readers. It pertains to the satisfaction a child derives from munching on a yummy vegemite sandwich)

      Kirsty's earlier embryonic moans now assumed a more permanent state of outbound pleasure as both men began rubbing her panties in earnest, taking turns to delineate the lips of her pussy the full depth between her legs. She knew she was wet - they most assuredly had discovered the fact too!

     Moaning like a total slut, that for all intents and purposes she was right that moment, Kirsty had her legs spread to the maximum that tight little skirt would allow, her cream colored panties on full view as both men rubbed her pussy and felt her up from neck to knee. Still letting them kiss her passionately, all she cared about was prolonging this attention to her body just as long as she could. Whether she was on the way home or to the nearest Motel she really didn't care.

     "Oh Jesus," Julian was muttering, his body contorted across that front seat along with Patrick's beside him, as they took in the awesomely arousing sight of the young girl's degradation just four feet away.

     Exactly what psychological damage was done that day, at the point they drew up level with a packed school-bus on the freeway may never be known. Several sixth-grade girls on the right hand side however had their hands to their mouths in total shock as they caught a fleeting glimpse of John's hand sliding its way inside the near naked girl's panties, sufficient that a crop of the teenager's dark pubic curls were visible to the young schoolgirls. One presumes the driver was spared any such distraction since the bus remained wholly within its lane at all times.

     Inside the Lincoln, everything to Kirsty was little more than hazy now. The cumulative effect of those four bourbons had conspired to blot out any and all resistance. The hands caressing her breasts, sliding inside her panties and beginning now to finger her, were driving her crazier by the minute. Both Charles and John were harboring erections that might have done John C Holmes proud, and even as Mark took exit 48 that ran directly into Pinewood Drive, they had Kirsty across their knees, unzipping her skirt with frenzied deliberation. Clad only in her panties and stockings and breathing heavily, having Julian reach across and fondling her ass lewdly was just the icing on the cake. She wiggled her rear-end in appreciation of their collaborative efforts.

     Moments later the car swung into 22 Pinewood and even before the automatic door had closed behind them, Charles and John had those sexy little panties down to her knees, the stockings but a memory.

    Plan B had been nothing short of inspirational she had to admit!

    To be continued.

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The evening in question, and this was a good few years later I should add, we had just cleared away after dinner, at least I cleared everything away…my four having developed a Ninja-like cloak of invisibility when it came to washing-up. My wife was out of town staying with friends as it happened, when whatever video we were watching, was interrupted by an abrupt knock at the front door.

"Look, I’m soo sorry," gushed Kathy, "Something really important has come up. Could you guys keep the twins here overnight? Brett and I have to go see some people south of the Harbor and we won’t be back till 2.am, if then."

Giving me little time to make reply, she ushered both girls from behind her back. Dressed in knee-length nightdresses, both were shivering in the cool evening air. I sent them straight-on in to the lounge-room to join my four.

Turning back to Kathy I said. "Well I don’t know about "us guys" Kathy, there’s only me here tonight. Julie had to go out too and won’t be back till mid morning sometime. Kathy looked mortified.

"It’s OK sweetie," I re-assured her. Lucky for you I’m the country’s most efficient father. If I can handle my four kids…three of them girls….another couple isn’t gonna make much difference is it? Off you go now. You can tell Brett they’ll be fine."

"You’re a life-saver," she muttered, before slipping me a kiss and heading back to the Odyssey at the far end of the driveway.

By the time I made the lounge-room, it was bedlam. TV off, games out and a healthy wall to wall decibel rating. I figured I’d retreat to the den and have a JD and ice.

I had however overlooked one somewhat relevant fact. Being the country’s most efficient father really counts for little when you’re talking a smallish three bedroom house with suddenly seven people yawning their heads off. Natalie and Kylie, then ten and eight respectively, commandeered one room. Aside from our master bedroom, Chris had his own room and Jenna, still only seven then, had a fold-down day and night in the computer niche.

"Where’s Kirsten and Nicole going to sleep dad?" asked Natalie, looking up at me quizzically.

"Good question cheeky-face," I replied. I was thoughtful for a minute or too. Our King size bed was colossal, more than enough for the twins who couldn’t have weighed much more than 150 pounds between them. No sooner had I made mention of this option than Kirsten and Nicole made haste to my room where we found them moments later sprawled across the water-bed.

"It’s soo comfy isn’t it?" Nicole was chirping excitedly to her sister.

"Are they going to sleep with you tonight daddy?" Jenna asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. Kylie and Natalie exchanged wide-eyed giggles. "Make sure you tell them a bed-time story dad," Nat added, linking arms with her sisters and backing out of the room diplomatically. Chris had already gone to his room.

Sending them to the bathroom to brush their teeth I sat on the edge of the bed and for the first time took stock of the precarious situation. Nine, almost ten in fact, the twins were quite mature for their age – both physically and emotionally. Whilst initially thinking of them as just the cute little kids I’d known since birth, I found my mind uncontrollably wandering to darker areas I knew I really shouldn’t be encroaching upon. I was still disciplining my hormonal stirrings when both girls returned, closed the door behind them and jumped up on the bed with me. Having changed into my own winter PJ’s during their absence, Spring being at least a month off, the immediate presence of these two slim and extremely pretty young girls was at the outset – disconcerting, to put it mildly.

Probably nothing would ever have happened had not Nicole discovered the electric blanket that I had turned off but moments earlier. Already beneath the covers the far side, she began wriggling about and with what might in an older girl, have been a wickedly rehearsed script, looked me squarely in the eyes and said "Don’t need these do I?" Next moment her patterned nightie was tossed on the floor the far side of the bed.

Not often I have ever been lost for words. Managing a strangled "Nicole!" she just handed me the cheekiest smile and whispered. "It’s OK Mr Baker, I still have my panties on." Snuggling-in alongside Nicole, Kirsten piled on the agony by ridding herself of her nightdress which like her sister’s, took up residence on the carpet.

"That leaves just the light girls," I said, burrowing beneath the sheets myself, somewhat keen to see how this played out.

"I’ll do it," replied Nicole, scrambling from the bed and if I didn’t know better, keen to use the opportunity to tease me unmercifully. Now, being fully acclimatized to seeing my own three daughters naked, well at least up until a few years previously when I had been in sole charge of bathing, hair-washing and blow-drying operations, you might think I’d seen it all. In all honesty, not once during those years of drying and dressing them, did I ever have the slightest incestuous thought towards any of them. Not even when it befell my obligation to apply genital creams, during periods of thrush and such-like was I anything but clinically detached towards the whole thing.

time though, privileged to witness Nicole’s shapely little rear end jiggling beneath those tight little polka-dot panties as she leaped from the bed, one arm in time-honored femininity covering her chest, but realistically covering nothing, I was far from "detached." The near nudity of someone else’s daughter was an entirely different ball-game. In the three or four seconds it took her to reach the wall-switch, every aspect of that girlish figure was thrust into prominence. From the barely-concealed cleft of her beautiful taut bottom to those puffiest of little nipples – no "breasts" as such to speak of – it was all good news. And another sweet-smelling cloned replicant lay beside me, not three feet away. Despite my best intentions, my testosterone was gaining the upper hand…in majorly serious areas.

This

"Goodnight girls," I muttered, turning on my side away from them. "Sleep well,"

There was a brief hiatus during which I heard a couple of soft giggles. "Aren’t you going to give us a cuddle before we go to sleep Mr Baker?" It was Kirsten this time. "Was she fucking serious?" I thought to myself.

"We always have a cuddle before we go to bed," said Nicole matter-of-factly.

I turned round and discovered that Kirsten’s hot little body, either by accident or intent, was now considerably closer to my side of the bed. Holding her rather awkwardly I gave her a squeeze, keeping marginally at a distance, lest she felt parts of my anatomy that no nine-year old should be made aware of. Even so, just the intimate contact with so soft a young body was no friend to my cause let me assure you. Simply the feel of her soft skin and the smell of her hair in such close proximity was nightmarishly tempting.

"My turn" said Nicole, wasting no time in crawling over her sister’s body and into my arms. I knew even then, I was a lost cause. Holding her to me, I was unable to prevent my erection from pressing into her belly. I felt her gasp but she clung to me, evidently far from bothered. My hand slipped down her back to the very top of her elastic waistband. She made no attempt to move it or resist. Trading on my luck, I allowed it to slip lower until my hand was fully cupping her bottom cheeks. I felt her give a small gasp but still she clung to me. Completely unable to control my rising lust, I just kissed her on the lips and the breach in the dyke was never going to be filled.

In the dark as it was, it neither felt nor acted like a nine-year old I was kissing. Something genetically entrenched in the female of the species usually lies dormant until teenage years, but it is there and in circumstances such that I was experiencing, it can be kick-started. Beginning now to rub her bottom as I kissed her, Nicole was making soft little noises and becoming more compliant by the second. Kirsten had moved up close behind her sister and clearly was aware of the reality of the situation. As I continued fondling and rubbing her through those skimpy briefs, I felt the back of my hand brushing the soft cotton fabric of Kirsten’s own panties…I suspect at the very front. If I didn’t know better I might have thought she was deliberately thrusting her hips forward to better facilitate contact in that area.

A bedtime story was definitely out of the question.

Having discarded my own top I was instantly afforded the pleasure of having Nicole’s puffy little nipples pressed hard up against my own chest. Now when I say she had "no real breasts" to speak of, believe me when I tell you that by passing your hands in the dark across the upper chest of even a nine year old body, the owner’s sex becomes crystal clear. So it was this night, and with no further restraint possible, I allowed my hands the luxury of gently fondling those most beautiful of tiny developing mounds. Now this really had her wriggling hard up against me as she proffered her hot little mouth for further kissing. Completely unhinged by the opportunity of feeling-up so immature a young girl, I groped her gently with a mixture of lust and compassionate appreciation for so wondrous a collection of living tissue.

Kirsten I could sense was anything but the shy observer back there, and at the point I reached across Nicole beneath the covers and located her sister’s curvy little hips and bottom, I most definitely caught a soft giggle. So tight-up against her sister was she, I imagine her own unformed breasts were pressed up against Nicole’s shoulder blades. A man could go mad dwelling on such eventualities.

Perhaps given my success up until that moment, perhaps being simply an adherent of the old maxim "strike while the iron’s hot,"….maybe I just wanted to press my luck. Whatever, I called ‘time-out" to those sweet-tasting lips and nuzzled my way south until my own lips came into contact with two quite perceptible though ultimately soft swellings, each topped with a surprisingly erect hardness. Taking her left nipple into my mouth I felt Nicole gasp in surprise and pleasure. The softest of girlish moans brought me to the edge of sanity. I suckled her and she wriggled with unforced delight. Sucking deeper still on her right breast I felt her small hand burrow deep between her own legs. Her hand brushed the front of my pyjama pants in passing and another definitive gasp ushered in a whole new playing field.

"Am I making you hard Mr Baker?" the cute little temptress whispered. Behind her, Kirsten let out a shocked "Nicole!!!" followed by several flirtatious giggles.

"Well since you ask Nicole," I replied, "As if you don’t already know the answer to that one, yes, you do have me in a rather delicate condition." So saying, I slipped my hand down to her panties…at the front this time, where having withdrawn her own fingers from the confines of those tight little panties, I was free to rub her the full length of her virginal pussy. Even through the soft material, the swelling of her vulva was disarmingly evident. Not only had her respiratory rate moved up to join mine, she had begun to moan quite audibly. As she thrust against me, I rubbed her harder, feeling the labia separate beneath my touch. I suckled her yet deeper. Even facing twenty years in the slammer – I have to say it would have been worth it!

It was at this point, Kirsten began pulling her sister’s shoulders backwards whilst demanding, "C’mon Nicole….let me have a turn." Reluctantly I felt my hand withdrawn from between her legs and Kirsten quickly swapped places with her sister.

Just as tasty, equally curvy and lacking none of Nicole’s sense of adventure it seemed, I had my hand inside her panties before you could say "jailbait." As smooth as the proverbial baby’s bottom, Kirsten’s pussy was a repository-in-waiting, a half-way house for fingers in need, the sexiest little cleft this side of her sister’s cloned portal. Had those panties down in seconds and I could feel Kirsten parting her legs on fully automatic pilot, as I partook of the forbidden fruit whilst licking and suckling those delightfully puffy little breasts. As far as the male tongue is concerned, the sensory delights to be had by gently kissing and nuzzling the flatlands between a pre-teen’s nipples is simply heaven before you die. Fuck the psychologists who would have you incarcerated as a "manifestly off-centered sicko" if ever there was a case of "try it before you knock-it," this is it!

Regretfully fully aware that there was no way I could ever consummate this three-way tryst, after all, taking two nine-year old’s virginity might definitely be construed as "overdoing it," between licks and single-digit penetrations, I was forced into making a brief speech.

"Now look girls," I somehow got out, between kisses and respiratory distress, "We really shouldn’t be doing this. You understand I could go to prison for a long time if anyone ever found out about this. Your mom and her sister would never speak to each other and I would probably never see my children or you two again either."

"We won’t tell anyone Mr Baker," Nicole chirped, her hands around her sister’s waist holding her tightly.

"That feels soo nice," Kirsten put in, wriggling about now as the rhythmic pressure I was applying to her clitoral area, kick-started a multitude of pleasant feelings for the young cutie.

In terms of "pleasant feelings" I have to say, my own reproductive system was suffering hormonal anarchy, my erection unashamedly pressing for inclusion in the games underway.

A sudden series of "Ohhhs," were irrefutable evidence of Kirsten’s now on-site orgasm. Her little body fairly quivered at the behest of my applied ministrations. Probably an inappropriate comment to make, but there is something inherently sexier in bringing a very young girl to an early climax than is the case with a sexually proficient woman. Perhaps the "forbidden" factor, but more I feel the very newness of it to so innocent a young body. Sharing in her experience of what is obviously uncontrolled sexual release is something you don’t forget easily.

I would like to say at this juncture that I am no advocate of under-age sex as such and to inflict one’s adult sexual will on a child is reprehensible in the extreme. Arguably self-justification I realise, but when two sexy little poppets hop under the sheets with you in just their panties, you can fairly deduce they want more than simply a kiss goodnight.

Even with her sister lying there on her back now, legs slightly apart and from what I could make out in the gloom, clutching her genital area tightly, Nicole deftly clambered over her and straddling me, gave every indication she would appreciate being taken down the same road in the shortest possible time. I heard her gasp with surprise as she became aware of the rock-hard phallus pressing hard now against her abdominal area. I am prepared to swear on a stack of bibles I felt her grind her small hips against my procreative interface.

"Stop that Nicole," I muttered. "You are way too young….we shouldn’t even be messing around like this."

"Don’t you even want to take my panties off?" she whispered teasingly. Now that was a dumb question. Slipping my hands beneath her waistband, I tugged her briefs as low as I could get them…way down her thighs at least. It took her less than two seconds to then kick them off altogether. With my hands encircling her wriggling bottom, those erect little nipples causing the most pleasant of sensations on my chest and her hair falling across my face, I would be lying if I told you I had anything on my mind but fucking her senseless…nine-year old virgin or not.

My resolve held fast though and getting her to spread her legs wide as she lay astride me, access to her hot and incredibly tight little pussy was easily facilitated. Applying much the same pressure to her clitoris that I had recently bequeathed to her sister’s, only with the gynaecological benefit of greatly more spread legs, I had the young girl on the edge and whimpering within a minute. Wanting to be kissed, she raised her head – running now on a purely inherited sexual template, nothing learned….something ingrained from the moment of conception.

Spreading even wider as my rhythmic applications spread her labia yet further apart, her clitoris even at that age fully distended, Nicole unexpectedly reached beneath her tummy and slipping inside my boxers like a practiced whore, grasped my erection which she began to pump with what could only have been pre-programmed knowledge.

"God Nicole," I muttered, "Do that much more and it could get messy,"

The sensation of being thus masturbated by so cool and tiny a young hand was the catalyst for probably the best orgasm I ever had….well, up to those that followed in the next few hours anyway. Oblivious to whatever Kirsten may have been doing (and I have my suspicions), Nicole let out a cry of extreme pleasure at precisely the moment I managed to spurt an inordinate amount of overheated sticky stuff up and across the young girl’s tummy. This appeared to spur her on and despite being wracked by her own orgasmic shockwaves, she kept sliding that delicate little hand up and down my now somewhat sticky shaft. Pulling her hand free, she brought her fingers up to her mouth and seemed proud of her achievement as she brought the remnants of my seminal outpourings to her lips.

I kissed her once more. "Well sweetie, they don’t teach you that in 5^th grade do they?" She shook her head, still a little stunned by what had just taken place I imagine.

No great point in detailing what followed, anyone with a modicum of imagination can figure that out for themselves. We actually dozed off for a while, both girls still completely naked and hugged up against me on either side. I recall partially waking up after one of them jumped a little, probably during a REM stage and just taking in the beauty and scent of their young bodies. Switching on the bedside light I looked at Kirsten with her arm across my chest sleeping so prettily, and Nicole with her leg across mine, both hands under her head, her hair in total disarray.

Allowing myself the luxury of pulling down the coverlet, I could see their tiny breasts, nipples no longer erect but still puffy and as beautiful a sight as God has seen fit to yet create. I softly caressed both girls as they slept. Bring on anyone who cares to tell me that a leather-featured pole-dancer with oiled-up cellulite and top-heavy silicone implants is one sexy vision and I will show you a person of questionably poor taste.

It may have been hours later that I was woken by Kirsten being excessively naughty. I felt her hand exploring that which her sister had earlier applied her digital magic. She was mortified to discover me awake.

"Ohhh, I’m sorry," she whispered.

"Don’t be sweetheart," I reassured her. "I like you doing that," So saying, I slipped my hand down between her legs and began to gently rub her soft little hairless mound. She began to breathe heavily. "You see, you like it don’t you?"

"Yesss," she admitted, allowing her hand to once more caress my now fully erect penis.

With a sudden urge to kiss her intimately, I orchestrated things such that Nicole was gently moved the far side of the bed, still soundly asleep, while I manouvered Kirsten until she was straddling my chest, facing me. I asked her if she would mind if I put the bed-side light on and quite bravely I thought – she didn’t.

what I had only previously experienced via my dexterous applications just about blew my conscious thought processes. So perfect was that little slit, not eight or nine inches from my eyes, I could have needed a defibrillator. Encircling her bottom I pulled her forward and kissed her softly on her labia. She let out a small gasp and by tossing her head back momentarily, her beautiful little breasts-in-progress jiggled in their tempting all-femininity. I kissed her there once more and she squirmed in youthful pleasure.

Seeing,

Figuring I would go for broke I pulled her legs even wider and licked the full length of that forbidden ingress. So shocked was she, she just stared down between her legs as I repeated the action.

"Do you like that?" I whispered. She didn’t need answer.

There is something about a pre-teenage girl moaning like a slut that simply cannot be denied. Upping the ante by gently pulling on her nipples as my tongue intruded between her labia for the first time, Kirsten was fully given over to the pleasure. Completely abandoning herself to the experience, you could say I was in pole-position to witness her fully unhinged orgasm. Her cries, though muted, were enough to wake Nicole, who seeing her sister seated in so exposed and suggestive a pose, brought to her own lips a gasp of shock. Being the practical little tease she naturally is though, I had her astride me, legs fully as wide not three minutes later.

Now this one really did know how to make the most of an opportunity. Thrusting her hips forward as I licked her, she even began subconsciously pulling on her own nipples. Inherited behavior really is a wonderful thing!

It took all the willpower I didn’t have, not to rape both of them….for hours! Worse still, I have no doubt they both wanted it and would have permitted it, had it come down to the wire. I think though, they sensed this could not be and more than "made do" with the servicing they did receive. At some point later in the night, I discovered Nicole straddling my torso once more and her then permitting me to just rub the head of my erection up and down her cleft until I could take no more and spurted whatever cum I had left, all over that delightful set of inbound curves.

Last thing, around 2 a.m. I seem to recall, I had both girls put their panties and nightdresses back on, not especially wanting my kids bursting in first thing in the morning and wondering why their cousins were naked in my bed.

Don’t think though that this stopped me from indulging my every whim so far as those sexy little bodies were concerned during those fading hours of darkness.

weren’t innocent angels either!

They

 

Peter_Pan 2005-08-19

 

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ing weekend after I took Jenna there and for the benefit of readers at this site, I will describe "Minus Five."

     Conceptually brilliant, 'Five' really is the ultimate in cool night spots. The creation of a New Zealand businessman who opened the first venue in Christchurch in 2004, it offers the thrill-seeker, thirty minutes (at a time) in a literal ice-cavern. The refrigerated premises contain a well stocked bar - made of ice, as are the walls, floors, ceiling, seats, bar-stools, lounges, decorations, even the glasses you sip your cocktails from. If you are so inclined (and most do)...you can eat the 'glass' as you drink. The place is adorned with wonderful ice sculptures and if you think you have been there and done it all up until now, let me assure you, you haven't! How many of you have ever seen a rock-band performing in Everest wear, trying to stave off frostbite?

    Sessions ($30 per person) are limited to thirty minutes, ostensibly on account of the temperature. Up until 6.30.p.m. children even are admitted in the company of adults obviously. Whilst "Minus Five" is the tag-line as it were, it is frequently colder. The night Jenna and I were there, it hit minus fourteen according to the wall sensors. Patrons are required to wear protective gear including zip-up yak-hide coats, two sets of gloves/mittens, scarves and thick shoes - all of which management provides whilst you queue-up. Available cocktails ($10) inside are at the cutting edge of alcoholic mayhem. The "Husky" as it is affectionately known, being a tossed conglomeration of just about everything behind the bar. With a 'kick' like battery-acid on the rocks, I had three!

    Let us then return to the night in question.
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    Suffice to say "Minus Five" is probably the most patronised locale in the city at the moment (and even as you read this, management is opening three new venues in Florida, New York and Barcelona concurrently)Â

    Kind of an "L" shaped affair, with any more than twenty people at a time, it tends to get quite crowded. The Saturday night Jenna and I went there, they had perhaps a dozen other visitors, mainly tourists.

    We were perched on one of the ice-lounges chatting, me with my second 'Husky' and Jenna striving to keep up with her Mango creation, when our conversation was interrupted by a heavily accented,

   "Say, could you guys take a picture of us please?"

    The question was delivered by a remarkably pretty blonde, proffering me her digital camera, the other arm around the shoulders of her equally attractive brunette companion. Standing alongside a highly detailed ice sculpture of the Sydney Opera House, they quite understandably wanted one of themselves together.

   "Sure," I said, handing my "Husky" to Jenna and you have to be real careful holding drinks in there - they are that slippery. Took a couple for them and handed the camera back. "Thanks a lot," came the bubbly Californian accent once more. I wished momentarily I had been taking pictures of other things but managed to quell the indecent images.

   Still chatting to Jenna, I noticed our American friends posing beside various ice sculptures further along the lounge, each taking photos of the other. Both in their very early twenties I would adjudge, I took pity on them as they held the camera at arm's length trying obviously to squeeze themselves both into the frame.

  "Hold this Jen would you?" I said, passing across my 'Husky,' "I think they need more help."

   Grateful for the assistance, they re-positioned themselves once more for the family back home. The smiles they were generating more than penetrated the cold.

   "Is she your daughter?" asked the blonde girl whose name I discovered was Sandy, glancing across at Jenna as she sipped her Mango juice with a three-way kick. "She's very pretty."

  Something in her words caused me to glance up at her.

 "That she is Sandy, thanks." I replied.

   I was about to hand the camera back when her friend, who introduced herself as Erin, smiled sweetly and asked if I could take "just one more picture" of them, over with the 'naked guy.'

  A full sized sculpture, but a couple of metres from where Jenna was sitting, the 'guy' was indeed naked. Not only well muscled, this icy tribute to all the Schwarzeneggers of the world, held center stage between the bar and the far wall. His sculpturer having spared no detail, caused doubtless many an embarrassed "Oh wow," from the female patrons to visit.

    Handing me the camera (whilst Erin gave Jenna hers) both girls then knelt at the foot of the statue smiling wantonly. Not sure what Jenna was thinking - if anything, but after we took a couple of pictures, Sandy asked if we could engage video mode.

    With seemingly practised confidence, both girls then wrapped an arm around each leg, leant inwards and began a simulated lick-fest of the hero's iced appendage.

    Jenna began giggling uncontrollably, whilst I was waiting for security to come and drag us all away. A couple more girls on their iced bar-stools pointed to our group whilst quite obviously blushing at the unfolding drama in their midst.

    Erin then pleaded with Jenna to take a few seconds' video of herself mid 'blow-job,' which must have had my daughter just about wetting herself. I had then of course to return the favor, filming Sandy's undoubted prowess with her tongue. I would have paid good money to know what Jenna was thinking during that brief interlude.

    I figured we all needed an extended break after that, there still being a quarter of an hour almost of our "session" left. I asked the girls if they would like a drink. They weren't shy let's say!

    Whilst huddled up on the lounge we traded information, discovering that both girls were from the Sausalito area of San Fran and that they were due to fly out of Sydney back home to the States the following evening. Sandy, not surprisingly was a model and Erin working for some legal firm in Oakland. In the 'looks' department, there was nothing between them.

   You know when personalities 'click.' Problem is, you know when they more than click too!

    To cut a long story short, they asked us if we would like to come back to their hotel for a nightcap. I looked at Jenna, who never having been one to shun social convention, just smiled up at me.

  "Can we dad?" she asked.

    I thought I caught a momentary glance between the other two but could not be sure.

    As it happened, they were staying at The Grace - a rather beautifully refurbished edifice in the heart of the city - barely sixteen minutes walk from "Minus Five" itself.

     The girls' suite was spacious and comfortable. Returning the courtesy of their invitation, I contacted room service and within fifteen minutes trays of sandwiches and liquid pleasantries made their appearance. Jack Daniels for me of course, and a pack of Bacardi Breezers for the girls. Well OK, two packs!

    I had not been mistaken earlier. A couple of times I caught both girls off guard, looking at Jenna mid conversation and exchanging glances that confirmed their ...well, "mutual admiration," is the best way of putting it I suppose. I wasn't short of a certain "admiration" myself however, given the compelling proximity of Sandy's short tight skirt and Erin's plunging neckline.Â

   "Anyone want to see a movie?" Sandy drawled attractively right that moment. I definitely wanted to see something - just wasn't sure quite what!
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    None of us having seen the "Underworld" sequel - "Evolution," we fired that up and being unable to efficiently and comfortably arrange one sofa and two chairs around the wall-mounted TV, we opted for the King Size, which accommodated four people with consummate ease. Jenna between the girls and me alongside Sandy.

    You would think I might have learned from this dangerously up close and personal scenario in the past. Maybe I was just hoping!

    The more werewolves bloodily despatched, the more alcohol we consumed. "Yukky" became the girl's catch-cry as the screen filled with digitised corpses. Still, if one watches a film of this nature one cannot expect to see a documentary on the lifetime achievements of Mother Teresa.

    Having ordered yet more beverages, it would be fair to say everyone was pleasantly disposed towards life at this juncture. Jenna and Erin especially had upped the giggling factor considerably, with Erin more than once making contact with Jenna's leg I noticed, when commenting on some scene or other. Nothing suggestive really, just girlish familiarity which in itself can be such a tease to the onlooker. I can't speak for the participants.

    I should point out also that all three girls' skirts were riding temptingly high above the knee as they snuggled further into the coverlet. Sandy's especially was taking up more and more of my sidelong glances.

    We would have been more than half-way through the movie when either the alcohol kicked-in big time or some ill-gotten need-to-breed manifested itself into the collective conscience on site. I had just turned to glance at Sandy at much the same second she turned her head my way.

    There was no reason to ask permission. Sexy lips are what they are, all you can ever do is kiss them and hope for the best. I knew at once I had struck a rich vein and it sure wasn't shale oil.

    I heard a "Gosh dad," from the far side of the bed but was then far too taken up with proceedings to care about appearances. Sandy was as warm and tasty as they come and it was the work of but a moment, to lay her full length on the bed covers, that long blonde hair splayed all over the pillow rather attractively. No Playboy photographer could have done better.

    Her breasts so prominently displayed at that angle, I simply nuzzled them softly through her top which had her wriggling pleasurably as the whimpers and sighs gained volume. Placing my hand along the inside of her thigh betrayed her needful compliance as she moaned gently and spread her legs noticeably. More than familiar with this road-map I edged on to the motorway north.

    Glancing across at the other two girls, perhaps wondering why no further exclamations of dismay at my blatantly sexual conduct were forthcoming, I all but slipped off the bed.

    Erin had Jenna in much the same position as Sandy and was kissing her passionately, whilst beginning to squeeze her breasts as might any besotted schoolboy, given the opportunity. It was definitely stealing my thunder.

    Sandy, noticing no doubt, my momentary distraction from the path of righteousness, glanced her friend's way also. Smiling up at me, she whispered "Erin has a thing for young girls...we both do actually. Does that offend you?" I merely shook my head - this was really a moment frozen in time!

    I didn't even feel a sense of immediate loss as Sandy wriggled her way over to Jenna, whence she began fondling my daughter's other breast which, beneath the somewhat tight top she had chosen to wear, was most prominent, despite the fact that she is barely a 34 B cup. Jenna opened her eyes to observe her new assailant for a moment but obviously decided to go with the flow, allowing both older girls to kiss her in rotation now.

    "Are you Ok with this Noel?" Sandy muttered a few moments later, looking back at me. "You don't mind us kissing Jenna?" My non-verbal acquiescence took the form of an impartial nod. It was definitely up to Jenna to "mind" and from what I could see, that wasn't even a consideration.

    Having observed Jenna at the mercy of various oversexed males and females at Harper Valley, you might think I had seen it all. Let me tell you then, watching my daughter being kissed and gratuitously felt-up by two girls at once - neither but a few years older than her, set a new benchmark in erotic viewing.

    As Erin began to slip her hand down inside Jenna's bra, Sandy began pushing her skirt up, well beyond any acceptable level of decency. I have to admit to being riveted by the sight, most especially as her panties were forthwith on show to anyone thus interested.

    Sandy was obviously keenly interested, as with one hand on active duty, still fondling her right breast almost lewdly, she slipped her right hand well up between Jenna's legs and began rubbing the front of her panties sufficiently that Jenna gasped audibly between Erin's kisses, at the same time making a half-hearted attempt to pull her skirt down.

    Up until this moment I had managed to remain a passive, though highly interested, let it be said, observer. At the point however that Sandy seized Jenna's wrist and then after wriggling her own skirt up high enough, guided my daughter's hand up between her own legs, facilitating contact I imagine with her own undoubtedly hot little panties, I found it necessary to apply some localised therapy of my own.

    "She is soo sexy isn't she?" I heard Erin mutter to her friend, breaking off from kissing Jenna momentarily. "And she has the hottest little boobs," she smiled lasciviously quite forgetting my presence obviously, as she groped once more the contents of my daughter's bra.

   Sandy must have flashed her a glance in my direction as Erin immediately let out a cry of embarrassed regret. "Ohhh, I'm so sorry," before seeing what it was I was doing, then she half giggled. "Oh wow, doesn't look like you mind seeing your daughter in this position either."

   I was in no position to participate in any in-depth conversation right that moment, so I simply shook my head and continued addressing my own needs.

    Jenna I noticed, was not in need of a girl's instruction manual either and was now actively causing friction on some majorly interesting part of Sandy's lower anatomy that had her wriggling her hips in pleasure. I noted her own reciprocated fingering of Jenna's still concealed pussy, causing my daughter's hips to thrust up with unabashed pleasure. Both girls were beginning to moan like alley-cats on heat.

    What did that make me I was wondering?

    Despite her "involvement" let's say, Sandy was actively interested in my own ministrations and parted her legs further I am sure, to enable me to see with total clarity what Jenna was doing to her. I could of course already see what indecencies she was wreaking on Jenna's teenage body.

    With the coming of my own personal little moment of truth, having inveigled my way up close and personal to Sandy's up-skirt attributes, I am in no way ashamed to admit that I spurted a somewhat warm confection across her thighs, the lower extremities of her lilac pink knickers as well as my daughter's hand and lower wrist.

    Despite her own impending "Waterloo," Jenna flashed me a "That's so naughty dad," glance, just up front of her own whimpers of release as Sandy's fingers I could see, were forcing the silky material of her panties well up inside her attractively displayed cleft.

    Sandy too was skylarking up there with the Gods as Jenna's fingers, having slipped beneath the leg of her panties, were now manipulating it would seem, her entire clitoral area. Her tight little blonde pubic curls clearly visible now, only added to the highly arousing scene being played out.

    Erin meanwhile had her own program of self-help well underway. Still fondling Jenna's breasts with rare enthusiasm, her left hand had wormed its way beneath the waistband of her own skimpy panties and she was clearly masturbating herself quite as hard as the situation demanded. Her own cries of orgasmic solace trailed on the wind.

   For a good few moments, no-one spoke. Not a lot one could say really!

   Jenna half sat upright, propped up by a couple of pillows. "I'm sorry dad," she murmured, making decent her hemline, as well as a few adjustments further north.

   "For what sweetheart?" I replied. "I didn't see anything just now that warranted an apology - from anyone." I glanced at the other two - Erin blushed noticeably. "If anything, it was me got a little 'out of hand' you might say." That cracked Sandy up.

   "You girls just chat between yourselves," I suggested, "I'll go fix us all a coffee." So saying, I eased myself off the bed and headed for the mini-kitchen where I could see a small fridge and some tea-making equipment. I couldn't hear what was being said but I did notice from the occasional glance, a lot of smiles and tellingly, no inclination from any of the girls to space themselves apart any further.

    By the time I got back there with a tray, both Erin and Sandy were huddled up around Jenna seemingly prepped for some further girlish involvement. I say 'seemingly'....what else could you call it with both girls taking turns kissing Jenna softly on the lips as she lay submissively between them. In terms of sheer erotic moments, this be assured, ranked up there with the best of them.

    As I sat down on the coverlet, Jenna sat up and smoothed down her skirt, flashing me the prettiest of smiles as she did so. Everyone finished their coffee in near silence although an air of indefinable "expectation" hung over proceedings. The two girls I noticed continued to exchange glances with one another, whilst Erin's arm remained locked around Jenna's almost lovingly.

   "Are you still at school Jenna?" Sandy asked quietly. One sensed my daughter's almost shy affirmation of the fact was much to the other two's liking. "Maybe schoolgirls appeal to other girls as much as they do men?" I was thinking.  Â

    Either oblivious to my presence or uncaring thereof, Erin re-commenced kissing Jenna softly on the lips and it is no distortion of the truth when I say that my daughter's reaction was one of total capitulation. Allowing herself to be manouevered back on to the pillows, she offered not the slightest resistance, even as Sandy began to divest her of that lacy little top, while Erin was wasting no time unzipping her skirt. Just moments later, Jenna lay there in simply her matching green bra and panties - a sight it would be worth living through six lifetimes to see. Trust me on this!

   "God Erin," I heard Sandy mutter, "Do we have to go home in the morning?" Erin giggled and gently pulling Jenna's hair away from her eyes, sighed as she looked down at her. "I wish, she is soooo hot!'

   I reckon she got that right.

   "Can we undress her?" Erin looked up at me hopefully as she spoke.

   "Hell kids, you needn't be asking me," I replied, "It's Jenna's call - I don't even want to be refereeing this one!"

    Finally...a gasp from Jenna as the prospect of being stripped naked suddenly reared up as an imminent proposition. There was time for just one cheeky "Not my panties, nooo" before Erin had them down below her knees, that wonderful little triangle of furred privacy displayed to us all.

    Not to be outdone in the field of sexy innovation, Sandy had Jenna's bra unhooked and on its way to the edge of the bed covers before Erin had even worked her panties free of both feet. This was sheer visual torture on a rogue scale.

    In hindsight, I don't think I have ever seen two girls consumed with lust such as were both these Californian girls that night. Talk about a bull in a china shop - Erin had Jenna's legs wide apart and was licking her like a dehydrated child attacking an iced lollipop mid summer. As for Sandy, she was rubbing Jenna's left breast, as might an inexperienced partner on Prom night, while with her lips she was suckling her right nipple rather in the manner one might expect of a starving infant desperate for its morning starter-pack.

    Jenna was moaning freely, her arms way over her head as the two girls took their pleasures of her young and utterly sensual body. At one stage she opened her eyes and looking directly at me, willed me almost to share her own pleasure. I could do nothing...this was not about me. I could be no part of that tableaux and strangely was quite comfortable in that knowledge. I was to be fucking no-one this night and knew that with absolute conviction.

   I'm not even sure if I masturbated again - I think I probably did. All I recall now is that after I moved across to the high-back chair near the foot of the bed, both girls began feeling Jenna up as they took turns kissing her even more passionately. One of them would push two fingers well up inside her pussy while the other fondled her breasts and nipples shamelessly. That Jenna experienced multiple rolling orgasms is beyond question. At one stage she was literally whimpering for their attentions.

    Having perhaps some desire to level the playing-field as it were, I could only look-on with awed reverence, as Sandy leaned across and began actively masturbating her friend also to the edge of sanity as she worked the numbers with Jenna's slim and visibly trembling body. Both my daughter and Erin reached the high plateau together. I just hoped the walls were of a decent thickness.

    There was but one combination to satisfy.

    Even as they tugged Sandy between them, Jenna completely unaware I think that she was naked, I watched mesmerised as they stripped her completely, Erin more than happy to shed her clothes too at this juncture. All those hot young breasts being communally groped and fondled while their owners kissed, holding each others hands occasionally in a rather touching if not arousing display of entrenched feminine affection. Jenna I have noticed has a particular liking for hot young breasts (little wonder one might say, given her own intensely desirable twin mounds) Sandy's muted cries of satiated need, evidence if such be needed, that their combined ministrations had pressed all the right buttons.

    The alcohol had run its course with me and even as the three of them slid under the covers for a night of unhinged sexual excess one assumes, I just pulled the coverlet up over my knees and fell asleep. I didn't find it necessary to count bra-straps let's say!
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    We have never discussed that night since.

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     (c) 2006 Peter_Pan

This extract, courtesy of "Harper Valley: A Postscript"

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r long dark hair cascading down to her backside almost, willing me to hand her the day's mail that she would then scamper inside with excitedly.

I saw less of her once she started school, but on occasions I would still see her strolling home in the summer months, skipping along the sidewalk and letting her hands run along the tops of hedgerows and picket fences, leaving in her wake, the very essence of seemingly incorruptible childhood innocence.

I was careful to never let her see me, but I would make a point of being on hand around the time school was out, just so I could watch her for a few moments. She captured my heart....my very passion, if the truth be known.

Developmentally she was ahead of the pack, no doubt about that. Whether or not this contributed to her downfall though, I have no idea - nor is it really my place to speculate. All I know is, that first day I saw her stop-off at Dave Watkins' place some years later, watching from across the intersection as he took her inside, before closing the porch door with what I felt was undue haste, my heart sank. I think it deflated actually!

Desperately wanting to believe there might be some rational explanation for her house-call, my hopes were dashed however when the visits became a regular occurrence. I could not fail to notice that she was beginning to wag school on occasion now and the day I watched her winging her way towards his front gate, that frilly little white dress blowing wildly in the breezy conditions, long hair streaming off her shoulders as it glinted attractively in the morning sun, fully highlighting the fact she really was no longer a little girl as such, I just stood there gutted!

Worse was to transpire. I saw her going to Dave Watkins' house when I knew his two moronic buddies Greg Thomas and Steve Harrison were inside with him. That day, little Patti was inside for hours and I guessed what sordid and indecent secrets she was learning about.

In the coming months she would have beaten a well-worn track to Dave's front door and for the life of me I could not tell you with any conviction that she even once appeared reluctant to participate in what can only have been gratuitous sexual debasement, knowing Dave Watkins as many of us reluctantly did. Many were the occasions Steve, Greg and various other dickhead associates of Dave were on hand to take up the slack, as it were.

The day came of course when I simply had to see for myself.

From my vantage point across the intersection, I watched as Patti flounced up to Dave's front door, all frills and girlish mannerisms. I knew others were inside waiting. Figuring they would be ushering her into the lounge-room first, I hightailed it to the property's western boundary where I knew I would be able to see and overhear at least some of what might be happening courtesy of a half-open window there that Dave hardly ever closed, what with the dense shrubbery growing wild and unchecked along the border of his neighbor's cottage.

Imposing their botanical will on the structure itself, shade trees would afford me camouflage and darkened protection from the likelihood of discovery. In any event, I wasn't concerned for my own welfare - I could handle myself if it came to it. I just had to know.

In hindsight, I think the worst aspect of what I saw that morning was the young girl's "willingness." A willingness to be debased, to be humiliated, to be "used" in every sense of the word.

No sooner had I taken up my place of concealment than I could see little Patti quite without duress, undressing right there on the carpet in front of them all. The sight of her smiling, hips wriggling provocatively, in just her skimpy little bra and panties was as distressing as it was arousing.

"That's it, little slut," Dave was saying, "Now get those hot little tits out for us baby-doll. Good girl - now pull your knickers down, yeah, real slow...that's right. Now turn around, show us all your little cunny. Real nice!.....OK now bend over for us sweetheart....."

Steve I think it was, who then got down on his knees in front of her and began fingering her pussy it looked like. I saw Patti giggle and seemingly grind her hips against his face. A thirteen-tear old for God's sake! Then as she stood there completely naked, hands submissively above her head, I watched as the men - there were four others besides Dave, began molesting her - pulling her nipples, kissing her developing breasts and lips, smoothing their hands all over her still child-like bottom, defiling whatever innocence still remained and splintering my sanity in the process.

"Let's fuck the little cunt Dave," growled one of the other men - no-one I recognised. Although moving right to the periphery of my line of vision, I could still just make out Dave pinioning the girl's arms behind her back as two others held her legs apart, even as she was just standing on the carpet. Holding his engorged weapon like a lance, the man simply shoved it up her as she stood there - I heard her gasp, not in pain or fear sadly, but in what was obviously unbridled pleasure.

At the point I heard Patti crying out subsequently, as the man pumped her like a piece of horse-meat, "Ohhh, keep fucking me sir...harder, pleease," I knew that whatever had gone from her life, would never be coming back. No sooner had the man shot his load up inside that radically underage slit, than Steve muttered something I could not quite hear. In response though, the three of them lifted her body waist high, her legs spread like Nadia Comeneci on the parallel bars and she let herself be taken - fully airborne.

The language the young girl was being subjected to throughout her ordeal would have had most social workers blushing with embarrassment. If anything though. it was exciting her, catalysing an even deeper complicity with everything that they were doing to her.

Eventually they dragged her away to some upstairs room but not before I had seen her sucking their cocks by rotation, posing for them in every lewd stance you can imagine, being fucked on her hands and knees while they abused her, spanked her - even as they masturbated the length and breadth of that sweet little body.

I recall the exact moment something in my head shunted itself way out of alignment! It was 12.33 p.m.

Patti must have been fifteen and in ninth-grade I imagine, when her family moved out of the immediate area. For more than two years the residents and guests of that house on the corner of Fremont Street had been fucking the young girl's lights out. I know - because I had watched. I made a resolution now to find her. After all, in a city of just 1.9 million people, how hard could that be? and, I had a plan - ya gotta always have a plan!

"What bitter irony?" I thought to myself. There being two schools within walking distance of Dave Watkins' house of infamy, I doubt it would have taken him long to find a willing home-town replacement.

As it transpired, finding out where the family had moved to wasn't even a challenge. They had left an on-forwarding address with the Post Office.

Just seven miles south west of Portland, Beaverton, although called a city, was really not much more than a large town back then, with barely fifty-five thousand people living there - it's grown a fair bit in the last thirty years. Patti's family had moved to a house in a newish area just off West Baseline Road.

Citing "stress" over a fully mythical family bereavement, I pulled down a couple of weeks leave - like I said, I had plans!

Spent the first week observing Patti's route to and from the Juventus College for Girls she now attended. Where and just how far she walked to the school bus (when she got it) what route she took coming home. It was all I could do not to let her see me, so much did I want to go hug her and tell her that never again would she have to submit to the whims of predatorial trash that passed themselves off as human beings.

Not a month later, having successfully negotiated a transfer with the mail office, I put down a sizeable deposit on a small two bedroom home, but a couple of blocks from the High School - right on a corner too.

Nights, I worked on that master bedroom until the early hours, fashioning a cocoon that my chrysalis would never want to leave.

That first day, as I watched the familiar figure coming down Summerfield Road my heart was in my mouth. Despite her recent history, she looked as sweet and innocent as ever she had. A little curvier perhaps - but that's to be expected with the onset of teenage bodily dynamics. I lit out for my mailbox.

"Patti?" I said, with hopefully the right mix of warmth and incredulity. She was right at my gate.

She looked at me, puzzled for a second.

"Jim," I said, "Your mailman back in Portland?....."

"Oh my God," she spluttered, "Oh I can't believe it - what are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same question," I lied, "Actually I was handed a transfer to Beaverton just recently, which worked out pretty good for me as I already lived here." I gestured towards the house behind me.

"Wow," she said, "I never expected to see you again.......Jim," she added, rather endearingly.

"Well hey Patti, where do you live these days, how come you left Portland?" I opened the front gate for her. "Come inside for a few minutes and I'll get you a drink."

I have the penultimate 'safe' and 'honest' face - she didn't even think twice about it.

I poured her a glass of lemonade and pushed a plate of fresh cookies her way as she told me about having to move, on account of her father's work commitments and where it was they now resided in Beaverton. As she talked, I just sat on that stool across from her at the workbench, remembering.....

"Well I suppose I'd best be getting home," she said, putting the empty glass down, although I could detect little or no urgency in her voice. Giving her a quick hug, I told her she was more than welcome to drop by at any time and let me know how things were going, either at home or at school. The smile she tossed me as she turned to close the front gate, was sufficient to keep my peristaltic rate up in the high nineties all night!

I worked extra hard on the bedroom that evening.

Patti didn't call in for a couple of days but that Friday, I found reason to be out the front of my place fixing up the garden around the time school would be out. This time, she saw me!

"Hi Jim," she called out in that half-giggly teenage voice that adolescent girls perfect so well. I almost snipped off my index-finger in pleasure!

"Ohh, sorry Patti, I was miles away," I gushed, "Come inside girl."

Just turned thirty, I certainly didn't look it. When Patty was around, I sure as hell didn't feel it either. Sometimes you just know things are happening, you don't need to go ticking off a thirty point check-list.

It all started innocuously enough. I poured the lemonade - she talked, I told the jokes - she laughed. Not sure exactly when it was that someone suddenly called "Lights, action," but I know we were crossing the kitchen at that particular moment and her arm caught mine. I turned, saw this beautiful and desirable set of teenage lips in passing, and next thing I knew I was kissing them. Looking back now, I suppose it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that her body was suffering withdrawal symptoms, following its previous two-year engagement.

Right then though, I had other things on my mind - getting that school-dress up around her waist for starters. Lifting her, and she was just so light I recall, I propped her up on the workbench, scattering utensils and God knows what else all over the place. Closing my hand around her right breast, I just squeezed that wonderfully soft mound - she still wasn't that big if the truth be known. But oh, how sexy was she? As I moved my attentions to the other breast I heard her beginning to moan her encouragement for me to become yet more daring.

With my left hand I was beginning to push her dress up and just as her hot little white panties became visible, she lay herself back on the bench, scattering yet more debris. I literally tore the buttons of her school blouse in my feverish need to explore those beautiful young breasts. Even as her flimsy little bra was exposed, she ripped the underwire upwards herself, freeing her nipples that last I had seen being sucked insensible by none other than Steve Harrison himself. Well fuck him!

Whether I spread her legs or she did it herself, I really don't remember but in the condition we both were, there was no time for social niceties here. I had my erection out in milliseconds whilst Patti obligingly held her panties so far to one side, they ripped across the top elastic. As I sank into the depths, she let out a cry of girlish pleasure that spurred me on to what, up until that moment, was the most intense few moments of love-making I had ever known.

Pulling her hips to the very edge of the workbench, I held her beneath each knee and spread her thighs to their physical limit, before penetrating her so hard and so deep that she could but whimper softly as her body was welded to mine in a union that produced enough donated semen I imagine, to have impregnated two hundred vestal virgins.

Such energy was expended by both of us in that wonderfully unplanned moment that Patti was just lying there afterwards smiling at me, tiny locks of her dark hair so wet with exertion, they clung to her forehead in little feathery bangs. Beads of sweat lined my brow and in terms of respiratory distress - we could each have used the services of a skilled paramedic.

It was kissing she needed more than anything right then, so pulling her gently to an upright position I found her lips and just held her.

So much more I wanted to do...but this wasn't the time. I knew it, she knew it. I was right about one thing though - that was one hell of a satisfied smile on her pretty little face when she left for home some twenty minutes later. I knew she'd be back Monday. It would give me time to finish my little project.

Sure enough, three days later, come 3.45 p.m. that familiar little giggle announced a caller that I was most definitely awaiting.

I had set-off down the 'honorable gentleman' path and was meekly apologising for my animalistic tendencies the following Friday when Patti dropped her schoolbag on the floor, waltzed over to me and slipping her arms round my neck nuzzled my face.

"Hmmmm so you don't ever want to do that again to me Jim....right?" she teased.

"Well, no....I mean yes....Oh God damn it, you know what I mean Patti," I replied, fully out of my depth.

"Mom's gonna be late home this afternoon," she drawled, then looking up at me like an acutely well-groomed Cheetah, purred "Just thought you might be interested." Oh, I was!

The lounge was way more comfortable.

Having kissed her stupid, I maouevered her onto my lap and slipped a hand down her top where those hot little breasts lay in waiting. "I love that," she murmured dreamily as I passed my hand inside both cups, manipulating her nipples gently and just generally misbehaving.

"You'll probably like this too then," I suggested, slipping my free hand up her school-dress and just lightly brushing the front of her panties that even now I noticed were a little on the damp side.

"Uh huh," she muttered parting her legs to give me even better access. I began to rub her pussy its full length. I could hardly control myself.

"Would you like me to undress for you?" she asked rather thoughtfully. Immediately the image of a thirteen-year old girl stripping in front of five adult men, came to mind. I didn't want to be reminded of it.

"No honey," I replied somewhat curtly, then sensing her surprise at my reaction, covered it by saying,

"Can't have you stealing my fun, can I?" She giggled.

Unzipping her dress, I had her down to her bra and panties in moments. Then, once topless, she just sat there arching her back sexily while I suckled those superbly erect nipples, my other hand well down inside her panties keeping the home fires burning.

Wriggling uncontrollably now, she just whispered softly "Fuck me Jim, pleeease." How I had lasted this long even beats me.

Figuring to give her a taste of the rough-house, I virtually pushed her on to her back on the carpet. Then tugging her panties down with something less than finesse, I pretty much raped her...which was the treatment I'd say she was looking for. A leopard can't change its spots!

Perhaps not an ejaculatory high that would qualify for the Guinness Book of Records (that landmark was undoubtedly reached the previous Friday) but nevertheless I doubt her pussy had room left for much more than a few air-bubbles. Then it was my turn to stare, as she sat up, turned around, and then getting up on all fours simply turned her head towards me questioningly as she wiggled her butt in my face.

I could have fucked her straight off, but I didn't - instead I gave her a hard spank and followed this up with another on the other cheek. Hot damn, it felt sexy. Wasn't too hard on the visuals either.

"What was that for?" she yelped, reaching back and rubbing her hot little tushy.

"No reason," I teased, "You just have a real sexy little bottom Patti and I was wondering how much you can take."

"Try me," she dared.

Ok, now readers with an emotional disposition might be better skipping the next few paragraphs, It gets painful!

I began to spank her in earnest. Put it this way, red turns to crimson in a remarkably short time. That it was turning me on would be a classic understatement, that it was doing much the same for her was equally obvious, given her provocative wriggling, itself followed by some digital self-exploration up between her legs I noticed.

Stopping for a moment, mainly to give my own hand a rest, I was stunned when she turned her head and I could see her tear-tracked cheeks.

"Don't stop," she pleaded, rubbing herself now quite freely "I can take it,"

"But Patti," I started to say, alarmed at what pain I must be causing her.....

"Keep doing it...hard," she begged, urgency creeping into her voice.

So thoroughly did I spank her then, she was crying out in what might have been agony but what was probably real-time ecstasy. I was losing control and the spanks were landing in an arc anywhere between her lower back and upper thighs. Sinking fast in a frenzied mire of sado-masochistic power - her pain was becoming my pleasure. I began to palm areas of her bottom that had not yet received their due punishment. It was her literal scream of orgasmic bliss that finally stayed my hand.

I have never seen a girl's bottom so red and marked. It must have been killing her. She slipped her torn panties on gingerly and just knelt there. I asked her if she would like a cushion to sit on, but she settled for a glass of lemonade. I poured myself one too. I noticed my hands were beginning to shake fractionally. Guilt? I wondered or delayed excitement? I found it hard to sustain eye contact with her.

Thinking to ease her pain, I retrieved a clean face-washer from the bathroom and soaking it in cool water brought it back to the lounge-room where I had her lay face down on the sofa. Slipping her panties down once more - an action that unavoidably renewed my erection, I started to gently pat her worst affected areas with the cloth.

"Mmmmm, that's nice," she said. I was thinking the same thing. It wasn't long before I was patting selected regions of her curve-infested body that were far distant from the damage-zone. Refreshing the face-washer, I returned this time with a couple of pieces of ice. Easing Patti on to her back, I began to slide the small cube along the underside of her right breast. She gave a little cry of shock. But lay there, hands above her head submissively allowing me free rein.

As I slowly iced her nipple she began to wriggle, seemingly oblivious to any pain on her underside. It was making me so damn hot, watching those teenage mounds becoming so aroused. I applied my exquisite torture to the other nipple, allowing then the ice to slide down the side of her breast, across her cleavage and up the other side. She was actually thrusting her chest upwards in pleasure, her eyes closed.

Between icings, I began to suckle her gently, alternating the hot with the cold.

Inevitably she began to masturbate, her moans knowing no limit.

I was developing a taste for this. Whilst my left hand continued to apply its super-chilled magic to the peaks and valleys of her upper chest, with my right , I eased those teasing fingers away from her pussy and setting down the other ice-cube at the very top of her labia, began to trace the outline of her lips very gradually, allowing the ice to slip marginally inside with each completed lap. I had her crazy in minutes.

Opening her eyes in ecstasy, her expression said it all. No interpreter needed.

My erection primed, I just pushed one leg over the back of the sofa which offered up an angle of entry a blind man could have negotiated. She was an animal, no more no less. That's OK - I was a Neanderthal on heat, so it worked well. Even at the point of interactive orgasms, we couldn't stop, and I was just thrusting in to her wildly until we were both expended. Withdrawing, a literal flood of semen and naughty-girl stuff flooded out of her. Lucky I keep a supply of upholstery-cleaner on hand.

But for the fact my DNA factory was fresh out of stock I would probably have taken her upstairs there and then but I wanted to undertake that mission on her next visit, when both of us would be fresh and hot for more experimentation. Besides, holding and kissing her wasn't exactly a hardship and she did afford me the luxury of having a shower with her before she went home. I didn't fuck her either although I think she probably wanted me to. Just soaping her up, washing her hair and allowing the hot steaming water to work its recuperative powers on her sore but sexy little backside was more than enough to round off the afternoon..

Patting her dry, I dressed her, then watched as she blow-dried that long dark hair of hers. Ever realised how sexy a girl looks drying her hair? Especially one that young.

I was glad she didn't come back for a few days - gave her bottom time to recover. How she sat down at school the next day I don't know.....ouch! Friday afternoon she just looked-in on the way home and told me her parents would be upstate until Sunday afternoon and that she would be free to drop by Saturday sometime. I set the stop-watch!

Skin-tight jeans, plunging neckline, even a damned ribbon in her hair? Was she trying to bring on cardiac arrest or what? Having ushered her across the thresh-hold, I almost lost my nerve. There's only so much a man can take.

Figured I'd play the gracious host first, well - just to get the ball rolling anyway. Plied her with soft-drink, nibblies and compliments. Whatever perfume that was she had on, was lethal - "teenage desire" I think must have been the literal translation. Eventually though, we came down to the business end of the visitation.

"Would you like to come up to my bedroom Patti?" I asked almost beseechingly. Evidently this was precisely the modus operendi she favored and holding my hand, we ascended the stairs.

"What is that?" she asked, gazing at the ceiling directly over the King Size bed.

"Well Patti," I answered, "Just how adventurous do you feel?"

She giggled, which answered my question. Pushing her gently backwards on to the bed I removed her shoes. "You're gonna have to let me take these jeans off sweetie,' I said to her. She undid the belt-buckle herself.

Threading the ropes through the pulley system, Patti watched as I attached a rope to each ankle.

"You're tying me up?" she asked with absolutely no shred of fear I noted.

"Oh, its way better than that Patti," I grinned, "Trust me." Foolishly, she did!

Having secured her arms behind her back also, I walked to the far wall and pulled hard on the guide rope. Not only were her legs spread at a magnificently obscene angle, her hips were lifted well clear of the bed.

"I can't move," she gasped.

"Well that's OK, I can." I teased her, hastily removing my own pants and taking up residence on the nearside edge of the bed, directly between her gaping legs. Up close and personal like that, you have no idea how sexy she looked, the cleft of her beautiful pussy clearly outlined through the taut material between her legs. I allowed myself a caress of its entire length. She managed to wriggle her hips in spite of her constraints.

"You like that do you? " I asked, rubbing her once again. It was definitely time for some in depth therapy.

Pulling her panties to one side, I just pushed hard into her. It was a furnace in there. There was no need for any "are you comfortable with this sweetheart" crap, Rape being the order of the day. It was in fact, her very helplessness that made it so damned hot. Taking no prisoners, I penetrated her with such force she began crying out in unhinged ecstasy. Didn't bother me, every square centimetre of that room had been sound-proofed - the door included, although at that juncture it was still open.

She didn't even mind when I began shredding her panties in my latent desire to render her even more

vulnerable. Tearing the thin cotton along the elastic the width of her abdomen, the flap of material, at the angle she was partially suspended, hung down uselessly now between her legs, every aspect of her youthful sex fully exposed.. The sight of my cock embedded in her pretty much to the hilt, was definitely a picture no artist could paint.

Relinquishing my grip on her hips momentarily, I reached down and fondled her breasts, which served only to elicit a fresh wave of moaning and wriggling. Pushing her top up, I wrenched her bra free of those dynamically arousing little mounds and began kneading her nipples - all the time thrusting deeper into her. By now she was crying out in ecstasy and beyond caring what I did - well, so long as I kept doing it!

The last few day's observation of temperance in all things sexual, was proving to be a master-stroke. Re-invigorated and stocked-up, I was now primed to deliver a seismic rift of noble proportions. To say I came in her forcefully, would be to understate the reality of the situation. What we had here was a vaginal Armageddon - a shared nuclear holocaust.

"Christ Patti," was all I was able to get out before the quake hit. I seem to recall her crying out something at an ultra high frequency after which I was simply locked inside her and flooding that hot little cavern. Under-age sex? It's to die for!

Taking advantage of Patti's disorientated state - not that my own was much better - I removed/ripped/tore asunder, what clothing she had left. She looked so much better! Just for good measure, I tugged the pulley up one more notch. This accentuated the appeal of her naked little bottom, it being presented now as a prime target for whatever one might aspire to.

Spanking is always fun.....so, following a couple of strategically-placed "hands-on" applications, I asked her how it felt?

"It hurt," she answered sulkily.

"You want me to stop?" I queried.

"I didn't say that," she giggled. Music to my ears.

The next power-spank achieved the daily double. She squealed in something approaching pained-nirvana and a tablespoonful of cum squirted out of her pussy and down her rear cleft. Not very ladylike one would have to admit, but one hell of a side-show. I had an idea.

Releasing the pulley, her bottom was laid to rest once again on the bed.

"What are you doing now?" she asked, idly sucking on a couple of fingers. I could only imagine where they'd been.

"You'll see," I replied. "Can you stand up?"

Whilst not exactly copybook deportment, she pulled herself erect. Looking at her slim figure and jiggling breasts, her body wasn't the only thing in that condition. Already I noticed, her bottom cheeks were infused with a light glow.

Leading her to the bedroom door, I closed it. She noticed immediately of course the snap-locks at head level - or in her case...several inches higher.

"Are they what I think they are?" she giggled.

"Probably," I grinned, snapping one lock shut across her left wrist. "Other hand please sweetie."

Dutifully she raised her arm.

Now just take a moment if you will and visualise the scene. A young and exquisitely pretty, fully naked fifteen-year old girl standing flush up against a door, her arms pretty much handcuffed above her head and filmy strings of cum running down the inside of her leg. No way of escape, completely and utterly vulnerable to the whims of her captor. That curvy little bottom wriggling slightly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other....waiting, ever waiting!

There was something missing from the tableau it occurred to me, other than possibly Jerry Springer. It came to me. Pulling open the top drawer of the little bedside table, I fished out a large man's handkerchief. It made the perfect gag. Now everything was ready, the moment was upon me

Sliding open the nearest wardrobe door - a mirrored beast some four foot across, I retrieved the leather whip. Patti had seen nothing.

"Indiana Jones" I never claimed to be, but that first lash brought up a welt across her right bottom cheek. I suppose she screamed. I actually planned on taking the gag off later to let her vent her displeasure. Meanwhile, I balanced up the equation by leaving a stinging welt across her left cheek. No wonder the Marquis De Sade got off on S & M - this was undoubtedly the first day of a new world order. I cracked the whip and another welt appeared just below her shoulder blades, although much of the impact was absorbed by her beautiful long hair. Talk about power to the people!

I suppose you could say I then "lost" it, after all, pain and pleasure really are so closely aligned - and I did want to give her pleasure. I put up the whip. Patti appeared to have passed-out, kept upright only by the manacles. Her bottom and lower back were criss-crossed with savage welts now, some of which were beginning to bleed profusely. I figured she might want a cool lemonade!

I knew what I had to do and I was fully resolved to stick to my guns.

One way or the other I was going to make sure that she completely forgot about Dave Watkins - even if it takes forever!

 (c) Peter_Pan

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rather fetching ultra-short denim skirt, teamed with a tight but most attractive little grey-ribbed top with Foxy Princess emblazoned in pink lettering across an area of her chest that really didn’t need any further advertising.

Holding my hand and looking as pretty and desirable as all Hell, we walked the couple of blocks to the park’s entrance. Despite the warmth, the paths were still strewn with fallen leaves and the trees awaiting their Springtime renaissance. A couple of young boys on bicycles crossed the path just ahead of us. Judging by the look the elder of the two gave Jenna, it didn’t need a clinical psychologist to figure out what he was thinking. Areas of his anatomy I feel sure, were reacting much as nature intended. Taking stock of the bed of soft brown leaves just across the way, I was having trouble dismissing a few somewhat lurid fantasies myself.

Just two minutes later we were stopped in our tracks by a familiar voice.

"Hey, Noel…Jenna…… wait up!"

Turning around, no less a duo than Connor and Jerry were hotfooting it in our direction.

"You two don’t look much like nature lovers," I said, "What are you doing here?"

"Just driving past the entrance gates," replied Connor, inclining his head back down the path. "We saw you and Jenna heading-up this way."

"Yeah, well don’t get any ideas Connor," I muttered. "We’re not rejoining the fold – just in case you were wondering."

"Nah, its fine," Jer put in. "Mind if we just walk with you for a while? Nice and relaxing in here isn’t it?" he exchanged glances with Connor, the meaning of which weren’t immediately obvious.

I could hardly fail to notice Connor’s eyes as they alighted momentarily on Jenna’s hot little rear end as she leaned over to brush a couple of leaves off her shoe. Hardly in a position to judge any such action myself anyway, having been glancing at that same prominent set of curves at every opportunity. Seeing her breasts jiggle slightly as she dislodged the leaves was something less than a hardship also.

"You look very pretty Jenna," said Jer, his words carrying a meaning far beyond their immediate implication. The hot little smile she tossed him was a bonus! Even though she was now sixteen, girlishness had yet to be replaced with womanhood and hallelujah for that!

We had come now to the kid’s playground, completely deserted but for an older couple crossing the far side of the grassy knoll just behind the swings. I remembered back to the hours I had spent pushing the four of them in tandem when they were yet to hit double figures, in hot summers past.

"Want a swing Jen?" I asked her. "Let’s see how high you can go these days?"

"Oh sure dad," she replied. "In this skirt – you could see my panties."

"Well don’t mind us," Connor quipped, "I think we’ve seen more than that before." He actually got a blush out of her.

"Well keep your legs together sweetie," I suggested. "Just a quick swing….Jer can give you a push."

I never thought she’d do it.

Nestling her bottom on the small wooden seat, it was indeed a privileged view momentarily. She gave a little gasp of girlish tease as a flash of white undies lit up the retinas of Connor and myself. Jerry was sharing an equally good aspect however, standing directly behind her, his hands on her hips as he pushed her higher. With each successive push it was obvious he was making contact far lower than was necessary and at the point Jenna giggled and turning, said "That’s enough I think, I can do it myself now," his hands were fully encasing her butt with each push.

Despite the down-draught of each swing, which caused the hem of her skirt to flare out, so tight did she keep her legs together and by continuously holding her skirt down with one hand, we were denied the view we all cherished. Even Jer had walked around to the front in the expectation I’d imagine of seeing right up her tight skirt.

"Such a spoilsport," he muttered, as Jenna slowed to a halt, after which she alighted from the swing and stood there, smoothing the denim down over her hips. I had this sneaking suspicion the exhibitionist in my daughter had yet to run its course. I so hoped I was right.

"Hey Jenna," Connor called out, "Come and park yourself down this-a-way on the slippery dip here." He patted the shiny plastic at the base of the slide. "Let me take a couple of pictures of you…if that’s OK with your dad?" He looked across at me.

I just shrugged…didn’t bother me.

Jenna flashed one of those devastating smiles she can produce on cue and sat her curvy little rear down on the slide while the three of us watched. Connor took out his camera phone and moved in closer.

Looking around momentarily he opted for the naughty approach. "Look, there’s no-one around sweetheart," he said to her, "Just give us a flash of those cute little undies – just once huh?"

With but a second’s hesitation, glancing first at me, Jenna wriggled her hips fractionally which had the effect of causing the skirt to inch up her thighs. Parting her legs just slightly, completed the tease, as the clear triangle of her white cotton undies was openly displayed. Connor took way more than one picture if the truth be known. What this was doing to me best not be admitted, but my resolve lets say, was decidedly on the wane. Parts of Jerry’s anatomy I have reason to believe, were anything but!

"God, that is so sexy Jenna," Connor muttered and glancing around once more to confirm the group’s continuing solitude, added in little more than a whisper, "C’mon, lets see all of them sweetie. Make your Uncle Connor a happy man"

My mouth was drying up rapidly as Jenna, evidently willing to "play," rocked back on her bottom, tugging her skirt right up to her hips and exposing her panties in totality. The effect was cruelly heightened by her parting her legs wide, now allowing us all the luxury of seeing that amazingly feminine indentation for its full depth. I knew she was enjoying this. What girl doesn’t like to be the center of attention, even allowing for being in the company of three irascible old deviates like ourselves?

"Now that’s all," she said, tugging her skirt down once more and sitting demurely on the end of the slide, hands in her lap. Connor almost dropped his cellphone in shock.

"You can’t leave us like this Jenna," Jerry pleaded. I don’t think he even realised his hand was idly caressing something it shouldn’t be. Jenna realised. She giggled and looking directly at his groin area, smiled sweetly.

"Can’t trust you two," she replied, glancing then across at me…."you three, I mean."

I was hurt!

"I didn’t start this Jen," I told her…"Don’t be blaming me."

"C’mon dad," she teased, "You didn’t stop it either!"

She had a point there.

"Look sweetheart," Connor was cajoling pitifully, "There’s no audience. How about you just give us a quick look at those sexy little tits you’ve got hiding under that top?…just to remind us of what we’ve missed all these months. We really have missed you Jenna…incredibly."

It was the most emotionally charged statement I ever heard Connor make. Might have brought a lump to my throat had not one already been forming elsewhere.

"Nooooo," she replied softly, folding her arms across her chest in an unconscious show of girlish innocence. "I’m not going to expose myself in a public park."

"Well come home with us then," said Jer, quick as a flash. Had to pay that one.

To be honest, the image of Jenna getting stripped - even down to just her undies – right there in that playground, especially with the potential to be caught out, was playing havoc with my sense of acceptable social etiquette.

Connor had moved over meanwhile to where she was sitting. As she looked up at him almost inquisitively, he lowered his hand and cupping her left breast smiled at her.

"Sexy as ever Jenna. Look around, there’s no one in sight sweetie – just a quick flash for us?" He looked up at me, "You don’t mind do you dad?"

"Jenna’s call," I answered him.

I couldn’t believe what I was saying. Not yet five months since we had all agreed to take ourselves completely out of the loop at Harpers and having totally ceased any and all inter-family by-play, here I was now acquiescing to Jenna’s imminent sexual re-exploitation. Talk about "Just one more for the road."

Glancing around, and also back down the pathway along which we had just strolled, Jenna did what she does best – she giggled. Then with the most sensual of hand movements she took a hold of her top and pulled it up quickly. Hooking her fingers en route, beneath what must have been the skimpiest little bra in her underwear drawer, she tugged both articles up to collar-bone level.

I hadn’t realised what even a few months of teenage development could achieve. Rounded and filled-out now to unprecedented levels of desirable young femininity, her beautiful breasts shook momentarily as they were freed-up in the warm early-afternoon sun.

"God Jenna," muttered Jerry. "You are just so lovely."

Indeed, looking at those lightly tanned slim legs as they disappeared up beneath the denim – short enough that Jerry and I at least, could clearly see her panties once more. Her wonderfully flared hips and the concavity of her abdominal area as it curved up towards her upper chest – "lovely" seemed a sadly inapt word for what we were seeing.

Wholly exposed for the ultimately short time that she was, Jenna sat there proud and smiling prettily. Connor could hardly be blamed for dropping to his knees, leaning forwards and suckling her left breast as she looked down at him with seeming fascination. I saw her eyes close momentarily as he drew down on her nipple and the softest of sighs was audible. One hand cupping her other breast now, he sucked her right nipple. Barely ten seconds would have elapsed before she tugged the material back down and the magic was hidden from us.

No one spoke. There was nothing to say – least nothing that could adequately address how we were all feeling.

I knew even then that there was no way Jenna would be leaving that play area without at least one of them fucking her. I think she would have known it too…..wanted it most likely!

I watched as one suffering temporary paralysis, as Jerry moved over to join Connor – a man either side of her now. She put up but the most token of resistance as they laid her back on that slide, legs draping off the end of it at the knees. Connor bent over and began kissing those hot, lightly glossed lips, his hands starting now to fondle her barely-covered breasts. Jerry was taking the southern flank and pushing her skirt even higher than it had naturally slid already. Those tempting white panties were almost completely exposed now as she wriggled beneath her assailants’ ministrations. Jerry joined his friend in openly caressing and abusing the young girl’s breasts. I knew just how hot this must be making her, given the several months sexual abstinence especially. I watched, as with his right hand he began then to rub the outside of her panties at precisely the point her clitoral fold would have been located. Between Connor’s kisses she was beginning to moan slightly.

There was still no-one around, yet seeing what was happening right here in broad daylight was hotter than anything I had ever experienced at any of the parties. Watching my youngest daughter being sexually molested in public pretty much, could only be described as the ultimate turn-on.

Grabbing her around the waist, Connor pulled Jenna down until her hips were right at the very end of the slippery-dip, Jerry’s hand still up between her now freely spread legs, rubbing her pussy through the thin cotton material with unfettered glee.

At the point Connor muttered "Take her panties off Jer," Jenna tried to sit up.

"Nooo, not here…please," she protested between kisses, making a grab for them with her free hand as Jerry tugged them down marginally, displaying the first dark wisps of some obvious re-growth.

The problem was solved with a minimum of fuss. Jer moved himself to a vantage point between her well spaced-apart legs, whilst Connor somewhat indelicately took a hold of her panties at their narrowest point and simply tugged them to one side. Her moist and intriguing little ingress, framed once more by her natural dark curls was displayed in all its youthful glory to the three of us – my having to move up and to one side to compensate for Jerry’s torso blocking my earlier view of proceedings.

There was nothing reticent or even vaguely restrained about what followed. Extricating what must have been as solid an erection as ever Jerry had managed, he placed his penile head right at the entrance to her fully exposed slit and just pushed right inside her. I heard her gasp but this was stifled by further kisses from Connor who had set himself the highly pleasant task of working her shapely little breasts free once more from her top. These he was now rubbing and fondling rather lewdly. I could hardly fail to notice how incredibly erect her nipples were also, in response to what was being done to her.

With Jerry basically raping her with unhinged abandon I doubt Jenna noticed or even cared what Connor was doing. Certainly no one had to encourage her to spread her legs wider – she was overseeing that little requirement all by herself. Connor even was able to let go of her panties completely. So spread was she at that juncture, her pussy remained fully visible and Jerry able to drive his erection up into her at will.

Watching her being so forcefully taken, her skirt pushed up around her hips, yet still in her school knickers, was one of the hotter sights that life has to offer.

It was over in record time. Jerry, obviously gripped by orgasmic forces beyond his control, held Jenna tightly around the hips and for what seemed like ten seconds or so pumped everything he had and more up inside her. Judging by her own upward pelvic thrustings, Jenna herself was little more than a committed female on heat.

As Jerry withdrew from her inner sanctum, breathing irregularly but flushed obviously with post coital pleasure, a torrent of milky-whiteness leaked out and ran visibly down the inside of Jenna’s thigh. Connor even, appeared awed by the sight and stood back looking down at my daughter as she lay there gasping for breath, one hand idly caressing her left breast. It really wasn’t a moment for conversation.

In all the sessions I had ever witnessed during the Harper period, nothing approached the erotic sensuality of what I had just observed. The ultimate intimacy being transacted in so public a place. Once more I glanced around, simply to reassure myself we were all in no immediate danger of unwanted disclosure.

Speaking of disclosure, Jenna appeared to be in no hurry to close up those increasingly sticky thighs, which may have accounted for Connor’s decision to take up the slack left by Jerry’s vacating the starting block.

Manouvering himself between her legs and having taken out his own vitally interested erection, he leaned down and whispered something to Jenna I could not hear. Her swift reaction of a giggly "Nooooo" would suggest an initial reluctance to comply. With Jerry’s prompting and further persuasion however, I could but stare as they got her to turn completely over and straddle the very end of the slide, bending over in such a way as to suggest she was about to be soundly spanked.

With her curvy little rear-end displayed to the max now, and with Jerry, after glancing around nervously to ensure their continued privacy, beginning to grope her breasts freely – an activity unfortunately quite obscured, by virtue of her back being to us, Connor parted her legs again while with his free hand he was obviously pulling her panties aside once more.

Jenna gave the loudest of gasps as he penetrated her. Her legs appeared to buckle momentarily but by supporting herself with both hands grasping the edge of the slide, she was able to maintain the status quo. Holding her hips tightly, Connor spared no energy in his quest for seminal finality. Thrusting up hard into her, his labored breathing was matched by Jenna’s cries of passion. I actually walked around in front of the tableau and the view I have to report – Connor fucking her tail lights out and Jerry rubbing and pulling on her fully exposed breasts - was not exactly a visual hardship.

Jenna was in extremis. Public place or not, nothing could have eased her fully wanton pleasures at that moment short of a high-pressure water-cannon. At the moment Connor shot his bolt…..the analogy with the water cannon was not that far off the mark.

"For God’s sake Jenna," Connor was muttering between his respiratory distress. "You are so the hottest little tease on the planet." There was no-one up for an argument there.

As Jenna slid to a sitting position on the edge of the grass, right alongside the slippery-dip, she tugged her skirt and top back down. Her hair was a mess! The three of us sat around her in a near semi-circle. As she raised her eyes to me, questioning……..I just shook my head.

"Don’t even think about it Jenna." I said. "Of course I want to…."want" is a slight understatement sweetheart…but we made a decision. I have to stick with it."

"Are you sure dad?" she pouted, parting her legs sufficiently to show me the foolhardiness of my attempt to take so high a moral standpoint.

"C’mon Noel," Jerry piped up. "You knocking back your own daughter’s charms. Never thought I’d live to see it!"

Connor put his arm around her waist and whispered something to her softly. Next instant Jenna was letting him kiss her passionately again, quite as if there were no tomorrow. This ‘walk-in-the-park’ idea had definitely been ill-timed I was thinking.

Connor’s wandering hands were once again on the move. I watched bemused, as he began once more pushing that short little skirt towards its northern horizons. At the point Jerry’s hand began inching its way up between her legs also, she gave a little yelp of surprise (and encouragement) as they both continued dexterously exploring her most intimate bodily attractions.

I definitely wasn’t needed to come-on as a substitute - not the way this game was panning out.

On her back and giggling uncontrollably, both men were kissing Jenna in turn while teasing her motor-sensory freeway from nipple to vulva. She was fully hotwired. One could only describe the paedophilic scenario as "deliciously decadent."

In hindsight I suppose it had been the "piece-de-resistance" all three of us were thinking about but not admitting to. The thrill of stripping Jenna in public. Whilst I could never have brought myself to do this to her – I certainly wasn’t averse to seeing someone else do it.

With both shoes already gone, there was no lower impediment to their pulling her panties right down. With a hand each either side beneath the elastic, it was the work of but two seconds to tug those sexy little cotton briefs down to her ankles. Jer oversaw their removal while Jenna gasped and spluttered. "God, not my panties guys!"

She tried desperately to cover her now fully exposed triangle of dark curls – which given her wriggling and general struggles, was causing even more semen to run out of her delightfully sexy little cleft.

"Hold her waist Jer," Connor instructed, and on the instant this was accomplished, he yanked her "Foxy Princess" top right off, leaving her squirming on her back clad only in that skimpy bra and with her skirt bunched up around her waist. The view up between her legs was murder.

"Dad…Dad," she pleaded. "Please don’t let them strip me – not out here! That is soo embarrassing"

My paternal instincts were long departed. The more embarrassing the better! At the moment Jerry unzipped her skirt, Connor had the bra straps right down her arms. Both were tossed away on the instant. Seeing her lying there fully naked now and oh! so vulnerable, I think I felt a coronary coming on. It was definitely worth it.

Sitting up and trying to cover her breasts, she made a lunge for her clothes. Connor, ever alert to the devious ways of a naked young girl however, grabbed her wrists and pulled her to him. She fell across his body lengthways, her breasts squashed up rather nattily against his shirt. He should be so lucky! Jerry kneeling beside the struggling and slim-hipped form, delivered a pretty decent smack flush upon those jiggling cheeks. Jenna let out an audible yelp as one small hand was suddenly relegated to bottom-protecting duty.

As before, the more she struggled whilst lying on Connor, the more hard-core the view appeared up between her thighs. It is only when you get to see a very young girl fully naked (struggling and pleading also, is just icing on the cake) that the utter beauty and perfection of all those curves becomes apparent. Jerry seemed intent on working his digital way across all of them that afternoon it would appear.

Finding it next to impossible all this time, to keep my own erection from indulging its biological preferences, I had been forced to take things into my own hands as it were – albeit within the confines of my own three-quarter-zipped privacy.

With Jenna still struggling futilely to reach her clothes, having both taken turns at spanking that hot naked little backside just for the Hell of it, they had her now fully on her back, wedged between them as they lay on their sides, doing one imagines, pretty much whatever they felt like to her. Her overall nudity was temporarily less obvious being shielded by the two male bodies either side of her prostrate body.

Virtually kneeling there, my hand continued to apply its frictionalised requirements to an area thus in need. Concentrating on nothing else, I suffered instant apoplexic shock on hearing not more than a few feet behind me.

Turning round fully mortified, I saw the two young cyclists we had passed earlier, on the way in to the park.

Karma had most assuredly caught up with me!

 

 

© July 2005 Peter_Pan

Autobiography available at:            

 

"What are they doing to that girl Mister? Why’s she naked like that?"

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ght. The looming darkness befriends only the girl’s captors, leading one to assume that Nature even has turned its back on the three-act tragedy about to be played out in its midst.

     The older man eyeing his prey, circles her as if assessing his options. The youth, slim and dressed also in tattered jeans and checkered shirt, stands across from the girl, near a patch of tumbleweed, his eyes quite obviously taking in the gentle convexity of her developing breasts and the curves of her rear-end, subtly delineated as they are in the fading light. He is able to detect the outline of the girl’s underwear even, as she kneels there shivering, both hands extended towards the older man as if in supplication. 
 
     He has often watched through the keyhole of the master bedroom at home as his father, having dragged his younger sister across his knee,  paddles her backside unmercifully, pausing simply to tug her dress up and her panties down, before  resuming his bruising work on her bare bottom. Becky would scream at first but ultimately dissolve into heaving sobs as the inevitability of her predicament suppressed all hopes of salvation.
 
     He wonders if his father might indulge those corporal cravings later with the terrified girl kneeling in front of him?

     Crouching beside his teenage captive, the man extends a gnarled hand and gropes the girl’s tremulous right breast.

   “Well lookee here boy,” he growls in the direction of his son, “Thisn’s almost ripe fer the pickin’”

    Gasping with shame and embarrassment, she pushes the man’s hand away, only to be rewarded with a vicious backhander that sends her sprawling in the dust. Off-balance and uncoordinated momentarily, her legs splay apart, delivering her voyeur an acutely indecent view of those plain white cotton panties. The upskirt visuals are not lost on the big man who chuckles at the girl’s predicament before crudely delving between her legs and taking delight in making illicit contact with the front of her knickers. The curved ingress and the smoothness beneath his fingers excites him. He thinks of Becky and how she might look, thus disheveled and prostrate before him. His son takes in the decadent scene but a couple of arms-lengths away. His father frightens him.

     Wriggling clear of her tormentor, the girl tugs the hem of her dress down, limiting the arousal factor and sits there breathing heavily, tears now trickling down both cheeks. Remorse is not a trait the older man has ever exhibited and taking a step towards her, he is able to see now quite clearly the curves of her young breasts as she hugs her knees almost in defiance of his unspoken intent. Aware that her cleavage, though still a gentle work-in-progress, is prominently displayed to the grinning degenerate leaning over her, she frees up her right hand to clasp the top of her dress to her chest. It is as fruitless a gesture as it is one borne of desperation.

   “Please don’t hurt me.” she whimpers. As well may she have asked for a latte coffee with extra cream, given the likelihood of her plea falling on compassionate ears.

    Wrenching her arm aside as if it were an annoying twig, the man shoves his hand down her top, encircling the small breast and feeling the rush attendant on such under-age sexual fumbling. The girl cries-out in shocked surprise, her disbelieving mouth dropping open as she stares downwards, following the hand as it moves to her right bra cup roughly manipulating her small nipple. She winces as the pressure increases on the teat, aware inherently that resistance is useless at this juncture.

   “Nuthin’ quite like a pair of sweet young titties son,” the ogre all but drools in the boy’s direction. “Come get a handful,” he grins lewdly, both hands rifling now the contents of the girl’s skimpy crossover. The boy makes no move, almost rendered immobile by the unfolding scene. The man shrugs and turns his attention back to the girl’s chest.

     Without warning, he pushes her backwards and taking a firm hold of the halter around her upper chest, rips the material with such savagery, the dress tears all the way to her waist. Fully visible in the now clear moonlight, her barely-covered breasts heave with distress, bra straps loosely clinging to her arms. Further down, her slim hips and belly are exposed in all their youthful vulnerability. The waistband of the girl’s panties becomes the focal point for her attacker’s lustful contemplation.

   “Ain’t no point lookin’ like Raggedy Ann sweetness,” he drawls, seizing hold of the last vestiges of her dress which he then strips away in seconds, heedless of her cries for him to stop. She lies there in miserable solitude, aware only too well of the effect her near-naked body must inevitably induce in her male captors. Indeed, watching the girl’s futile attempts to cover her bra and crotch area with those sadly undersize hands and arms, has already set in motion physiological changes in the boy’s procreational hardware. She can already see plainly the sexual metamorphisis underway beneath the ogre’s shabby Levis.

     The man produces a hunting knife that glints in the moonlight. The boy swallows hard and stares at his father. This was something way outside the plan. Not for the first time – he feels a rising unease. Trembling with unutterable fear she stares wide-eyed as the blade of the knife descends, hastily slicing through the material holding the front of her bra together.

     “What’s the problem girlie?” he guffaws “Figured I was gonna cut ya?” he slips the knife back into his belt.

    “No way Jose,” he grins, “Wouldn’t wanna hurt a cute little teen queen like you sweets. Way too precious to hurt – leastways with a knife.” Smirking at his own double entendre, he reaches down and plucks away the shredded bra. She lays there shivering beneath the cool night sky, clad now in just her panties, hands barely covering her exposed breasts.

     Observing the knife re-sheathed, the boy lets out a sigh of relief.

     Expecting the worst as the big man kneels beside her, she is unprepared for what follows. In one movement he seizes her arm and pulls her half upright. Still trying to cover her breasts, she finds herself suddenly prostrate across the man’s knee – face down and helpless. The huge arm around her waist restricts all movement.

    “Even a pretty little thing like you needs a whuppin’ once in a while girlie,” he mutters, delivering a hard smack to her upturned bottom. She cannot avoid a cry of pain and surprise. The second blow ripples the soft flesh. Even at the distance he is, the boy can see her taut little rear-end recoil from the assault. The next spank echoes across the highway but is heard by no more than the prairie dog and its immediate family. The man’s eyed are glued to the young girl’s panties. How like Becky she is!  Those same damnably sexy little hips, curvy bottom and who knows what else skulking away there between her legs?  Becky’s secrets had yet to be enjoyed to the max but tonight he would know true solace. He raises his hand a fourth time.

     Seeing the girl’s breasts jiggling free - pretty much in the dust, as she vainly uses her hands to try shielding her bottom from the punishing blows, fully re-boots the boy’s chemical resurgence. The swollen rod between his legs is almost painful.

     Crying hysterically, the girl pleads for a cessation to the beating. Were she to realize this was merely supplementing his enjoyment of the situation she might try another tack. Frenzied now, the man takes a hold of her waistband and tugs the panties lower. Leaving them at half-mast temporarily, he stares at her partially exposed bottom, the color of those gentle contours anything but a whiter shade of pale.

     Reaching beneath her arm he takes a rough hold of either breast, squeezing and rubbing the girl’s nipples, unfettered lust feeding off the sensation. His right hand smooths its way back and forth across her bottom, fingers inching their way along that sexiest of clefts before disappearing beneath her panties en route to the shadow-lands. He has forgotten his son across the way, all that matters is this one hundred pounds of ultimately desirable female flesh splayed across his lap. He has to see her naked. Hooking then, his fingers inside the already lowered waistband, he tugs the young girl’s one remaining bastion of modesty down her legs and past her ankles, propelling the handful of cotton just an arm’s length from where his son squats alongside the tall cactus, watching proceedings almost nonchalantly.

      Totally nude before her kidnappers, the girl’s humiliation is complete. A further hard spank elicits a cry of pain. She makes no attempt to cover her bottom or breasts now, her arms simply resting in the dirt as she sobs aloud her resigned acceptance of the punishment at hand.

   Eyes riveted now on the glowing rear of his prey, the man spreads the girl’s legs, giving his impetuous fingers access to the Holy Grail of illicit pleasures. His middle finger travelling ever south, discovers a cache of soft downy hair that even six months ago had yet to make its debut. Further inland, the natural curvature of nature’s best loved secret, leads that same finger to moist lips as soft as petals. With less finesse than a jack-rabbit on heat, the man pushes inwards with committed vigor.

    “Don’t…please don’t,” she cries, “That hurts….Let me go please – I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

     Clemency is not an option on the menu this night.

     Beginning now to push their uninvited way into her vaginal ante-chamber, the man’s fingers begin to penetrate her faster and deeper. Sobbing in real-time pain, she wriggles about on his lap, an action the ogre mistakes for complicit pleasure. She barely notices her breasts being groped concurrently, which could not be said for the youth nearby who transfixed by the girl’s aggravated sexual degradation at the hands of his father, is whacking himself off with undiluted zeal. 

     Past the point of being in even vague control of his emotions, the man sends the naked girl sprawling in the dust and kneeling before her, hastily unzips his jeans. Lying on her back, the girl not only catches this worrying turn of events, she also is privy to that which has disengaged itself from the mother-ship. Unfamiliar with penis-size per se, all she knows for sure is that the man’s “thing” is huge and logically nothing that size could possibly fit into the tight little receptacle she possesses between her own legs and which the man is now obviously staring at with what one might term bemused interest. Swiftly she closes up her thighs.
 
    “Ain’t gonna do ya much good honey,” the man leers, crouching in front of her now in the gentle moonlight. Despite her struggles, he forces her pale limbs apart. Unable to defer the inevitable, the girl  stares with uncomprehending shock as, working his way between her legs, the ogre pilots his nuclear warhead towards her fragile-looking vaginal gateway.

     Sadly, the girl’s initial assessment was ball-park accurate. A square peg never did fit in a round hole and a nine-inch penis of abnormally thick girth does not exactly dove-tail with a slim-line pussy of uncompromisingly virginal status. Even as her cries rent the airwaves just off Interstate 76, the younger of her two captors is suddenly wracked with guilt. Neither of the two girls they had picked up before had screamed like this. He gets to his feet and takes a step towards the moving violation.

      Even at that distance he can see the girl’s blood trickling down the inside of her thigh. His father is a man possessed, thrusting into that helpless body even as she whimpers and begs for him to stop. Quite obviously approaching his own finality, the man tries to kiss his victim, who by averting her mouth at the last moment, infuriates the copulating demon topside. He responds with a snarl and savage blow to her left cheek that almost renders her senseless.

    “Fucking little slut,” he roars. “You’ll remember this night girlie – I’ll see to it.”

     Abusing her breasts so severely now she begins moaning with pain, he thrusts ever harder into her. The girl lies there beneath him, almost inert.

   “Dad, that’s enough,” the boy yells out. “You’re hurting her badly.” His own erection has fully subsided.

   “You’ll keep your mouth shut boy if you know what’s good for you,” the aggressor spits-out in the direction of the lad, incensed by what he regards as insubordination amongst the ranks. He begins to rape the girl even more violently, biting her nipples in the process, forcing her legs even wider. The girl’s screams have diminished to little more than enforced grunts as her body is crushed beneath the man’s overpowering weight. Her arms remain above her head, jerking rhythmically in time to the man’s violent penetrative incursions.

    Taking a step nearer, the boy is horrified to see the bruising coming out now in her right cheek. The blood seeping out of her is considerable. Her expression - heartbreaking in the extreme. Right then with a roar of pleasured extravagance, the man floods her internally with his unwanted semen.

    “Little cunt,” he mumbles almost incoherently. “Gonna give her something to really remember the evening by.” So saying, he begins to turn the abused girl over on to her stomach. There is time however for the boy to catch a glimpse of his father’s semen leaking profusely from her swollen and bloody vagina. He begins to maneuver the moaning girl on to all fours, his intentions clear enough to any on-looker. Horrified even at this late stage for the girl’s well-being, he tries to pull his father away but is rewarded by a punch to his mid-section that sends him sprawling in agony.

     When the pain subsides and he is able to focus normally, the sight that meets his gaze appalls him. The girl is kneeling there some eight feet away, down on her forearms, her bottom elevated indecently. She is screaming out for help as the man, gripping her tightly around the waist, sodomises her without mercy. It is not something the boy can live with.

    The girl cannot believe the agony. She is being torn apart and cauterized by a white-hot metal pipe in an area that no young girl can possibly conceive might ever be at risk in normal society. The rape was unspeakably painful and aside even from the facial and chest bruising, breathing itself  has now become a hard-fought campaign. She braces herself for the next thrust – but none comes.

   She hears a dull thud and an exhalation much like “Uggghh.” Something feels like it’s dripping momentarily on her bottom and back of her thigh. More relevantly, the instrument of torture is withdrawn from her back passage just seconds before the man topples over alongside her. The majority of his forehead is now hanging from his scalp like a half-eaten pizza. She turns around painfully and glances behind her. The boy is still holding the huge rock in both hands.

  “I’m so sorry Miss,” he whispers, “So sorry!”……

   Somewhere in the foothills, a coyote howls.

(c) 2007 Peter_Pan

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n="justify">Tiff read sex stories. Not just the odd naughty tale but all of them. No fantasy was too outre for this young lady’s taste. Words and descriptions that would contort the features of the average social-worker were no more than nourishment in her voracious appetite’s quest for yet darker doings. An aperitif if you will, for that as yet, undiscovered gem of fully unhinged erotica.

Of the many fantasy sites she would surf on her notebook until the early hours of the morning, www.sexstoriespost.com was now her unchallenged favorite. Why? Because in her eyes it was the best, offering as she saw it, a greater variance of topics and with the easiest of navigational software. She became familiar with specific authors, scanning the archives nightly, looking for their latest stories and her impending encounter with yet another pair of sopping-wet panties. Life was fun.

The more she read of girls receiving their sexual come-uppance at the hands of boyfriends, fathers, strangers, uncles, brothers, sisters, teachers….even mothers, and in one recent instance a colony of entrenchedly deviate gorillas, the more she fantasised as to her own devirginising and what form exactly it might take. One could reasonably speculate that at eighteen she had indeed left her run a tad late, but with the exception of this - her one little night-time electronic indulgence – she really had been a good Catholic girl!

That was however until she came across "Holly’s Story."

Penned by an author calling himself Tiger, the tale recounted the events leading up to a father’s intimate deflowering of his fourteen-year old daughter the night of her year-eight school dance. What exactly it was about the story so intrigued her was hard to define. Perhaps it was the image of so young a girl dressed-up to the nines, returning home early to find her father splayed out across the lounge, arm-wrestling his pecker as he drooled over a computerised slide-show of digital pictures, zoomed-in to highlight multiple features of his daughter’s youthful anatomy. She read on breathlessly as, sobbing with embarrassment and shock, Holly fled to the cloistered refuge of her bedroom, only moments later to be confronted by her father who, knowing she would inform her mother on his wife’s return, told his daughter "I may as well give you something to really tell her."

At the point he subsequently pulled her panties down as she stood there shivering and commenced upon a program of fully indecent exploitation of her virginal body, paying especial attention early on to her young breasts, Tiff was a lost cause and midway towards her second orgasm of the evening.

In the ensuing days, "Holly’s Story" was all Tiffany read. Having cut and pasted the article, she would sit cross-legged on her bed, in just her panties – the notebook between her slim legs, submerging herself more and more into the girl’s character as the self-made waves of ecstasy washed over her.

It wasn’t, she was sure, any reflection of her own paternal lusting, although, if one were honest, she had conjured up the odd wide-screen image of being forcibly taken by her father on more than one occasion. It was she decided, the skill of the author in painting such a vividly realistic picture of what could only be described as white-hot incestuous carnality.

Mornings now, she was beginning to wake-up with her hand in her knickers and her nipples in a fully aroused state. Tiff began wondering if in fact the story had any basis in truth. Was Tiger perhaps publicly cleansing his own conscience? Hell, she knew nothing about him – he might only be a teenager himself for all she knew. It was only a fantasy-site after all. She had to know more.

Figuring she might contact SSP’s site direct and make enquiry about the author, she emailed the webmaster there - with little expectation of hearing back from anyone. "Gonna look like just another author-groupie," she told herself.

Imagine then her wholehearted surprise, when she received a reply overnight from none other than SSP’s resident webmaster/administrator. The elusive "Tiger" himself.

Pleased that his story had been well received and especially by so young a girl of all people, he confided in Tiffany his earlier background as a long-time subscriber, writer, editor and later co-founder of a re-vamped SSP. Far from being a teenager he admitted diplomatically to being "considerably older." There was he assured her, no factual person upon which "Holly’s Story" was based. "If only", he was understandably thinking.

In the coming weeks, Tiffany exchanged many emails with Tiger, and if the truth be known, he began to find himself spending an inordinate amount of time dwelling upon the "cute little Aussie brunette" whose picture, down-loaded from one of her emails, smiled back at him from the east-face of the filing cabinet. She was very pretty he had to admit. Just five foot three as she had told him, she looked considerably younger than her years – almost a little beach girl he thought to himself. He traced the outline of her hips with his finger, studying her nicely tanned skin, contrasting as it did, with her neat school uniform. He looked again at the short summer skirt and her crisp white shirt and tie. What wondrous sights they alone hid? Such a beautiful and well featured little face, highlighted by deep blue eyes that sparkled with youth and tease. Her shoulder-length hair was neatly cut and styled. What he would have given to be able to run his fingers through it – just once! His gaze dropped to her small hands clasped neatly in front of her and knowing what activites they had obviously wrought in areas he only dared imagine, he was suddenly finding the room unusually warm for that time of year.

Propped-up near her pillow, Tiff hugged herself as she read Tiger’s latest email. She too had his picture and had often wondered what it must have been like growing up in the southern States. Could anything be further removed than a comfortable middle-class upbringing in suburban Sydney? Around six foot, he had obviously looked after himself physically and reminded her vaguely of Kevin Bacon during his Footloose days. When she had finished reading his words, she simply closed her eyes and wondered…..

In the run-down to her final exams that hopefully would see Tiffany graduate (like her sisters) at the end of the year, her father had informed them all that due to business commitments, he would by necessity, be travelling to the US mid September, which as it happened, was the traditional three-week school vacation before that last term. Tiffany took this information on board with but polite indifference, until she heard the words. "For most of the time Tiff, I’ll be holed-up in Kansas City."

KC of all places she thought, and Tiger she knew, spent so much time at Springfield, barely a couple of hours drive south-east of Kansas City so he’d told her.

How she ever convinced her father to take her, would make for interesting reading, but is surely evidence of his youngest daughter’s powers of persuasion or perhaps of his own inability to deny his sexy eighteen-ear old anything when she gets the "I love you daddy" and the "I’m sooo cute you got no choice" eye-flutters in full swing.

She emailed Tiger with the news of her impending itinerary of course, but this achieved little besides their jointly increased peristaltic rates. She knew that for the week they’d be there, they were booked into the Marriott on West 12^th Street, but what latitude that would give her for any sort of freedom she couldn’t say. Asking her father if she could spend some quality time with the webmaster of an erotic-story site might not be the way to go.

not without his own social restrictions, merely wrote back, telling her that there was no way he wasn’t going to see her and that "something would be arranged – whatever it took." The clandestine intimacy of it all appealed somehow to Tiffany’s sense of the romantic. At heart, she really was a wild child.

Tiger,

Even as the cab pulled up at 200 West 12^th Tiff gazed up at the huge edifice. Boasting just shy of a thousand guest suites, this was a seriously large hotel. That probably translated as seriously efficient room-service too, she thought. Could her father’s Amex stay the distance?

Their suite was palatial. Two double beds, a bathroom big enough for a decent size fashion show and cupboard space for the most committed serial shopper. Being alone that night for the first time with a man…her father notwithstanding, had Tiff all at sixes and sevens. For his part, watching his daughter emerge from the bathroom in her unavoidably revealing nightdress and then climbing into the bed the far side of the room, breezily calling-out "Goodnight daddy," stirred things beneath his own covers that might in other circumstances have led Tiffany to be reminded of Holly’s fascinating learning curve.

The next morning, Tiffany was still snuggled-up three-quarters asleep when her father called out to her. "Tiff, I’ll be gone probably three or four hours – What are you going to do this morning?" She’d love to have told him.

"Ummm, well, if I ever get up dad" she purred, "I’m gonna walk around town for a while and go shopping."

"Ok sweetheart," he said, "Well you be careful and hey, I’ve left some money for you here on the dresser." He came over and kissed her on the cheek.

"Thanks dad, I’ll be fine," she replied…."I’m eighteen, I think I can look after myself."

"I’m sure you can too love," he smiled at her, before closing the door and heading off to the express lifts.

"Three hours?" she thought. She had to call Tiger. He would know they were in KC by now.

Fascinated by her Australian twang, he took down the details of her residency.

"You real positive your dad won’t be back until after two Tiff?" he asked. "I sure would hate for you to get in any trouble with him." She assured him all was cool.

"Well I figure I can make it by noon if I leave now," he told her. She smiled at the sound of his own drawl.

After they both hung-up, she opened up her suitcase and selected a pretty blue dress she had bought just before leaving Australia. Fairly short with a scalloped neck, she wriggled into it, smoothing the material over her hips. The lightest application of make-up and a little lip-gloss and you can well understand why the bell-boy near the upper landing did a double-take. He wasn’t going to be on his game for the rest of the morning.

Even as she strolled around the near one hundred and fifty year old City Markets at Twenty, East Fifth, she was imagining Tiger and the reality of actually meeting him in an hour or so. Would she be embarrassed? Would he? After all, running a sex-site might be considered a slight handicap when meeting an eighteen year old girl for the first time and especially given the cradle-snatching age difference.

Tiff headed back to the Marriott, arriving there shortly before 11.45. Tossing the same bell-boy a killer smile, the poor kid fell over himself securing her a lift. She was glad it was empty as she wanted to get back to the room well ahead of her expected guest.

She only made it in fact with seven or eight minutes to spare. She heard the knock at the door while she was still in the bathroom. Likely their combined harnessed pulse-rate at that moment could have emptied Lake Michigan in thirty minutes.

Opening the door, neither moved for a moment. It took Tiger’s "Well hello there young lady," to partially thaw the impasse. She was sure she blushed but seeing as she wasn’t on her own in that department, she felt marginally better. Tiff recalled later that her very first impression was that he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to be running a sex-site. Tiger on the other hand, could barely credit that this dream of an import was still a schoolgirl. Having only seen the one pic of her in uniform, what stood in front of him right that second, appeared several years more worldly. He hadn’t felt such an inept dickwad for the best part of a decade.

"Can I get you a drink Tiger?" she asked quietly, indicating a rather comfortable looking chair to the left of the glass-topped table. For some reason she was quite content to use that term and never thought to ask his real name. His own thoughts, momentarily swinging wildly between the need to balance some southern hospitality with sudden irrepressible images of himself unzipping that hot little dress, stymied his attempts to answer her.

"Oh, y..yes please Tiffany…a beer if you have one there," he finally got out.

She found a Budweiser in the mini-bar and held it up for him.

"Great," he said smiling at her. "God, was she ever a step-up from the girls round Springfield?" he thought to himself. "Make that most girls south of the North Pole," he mused.

Finding herself a ‘cruiser,’ Tiff sat down opposite her guest, providing both with the opportunity to assess the situation and each other. For her part, Tiffany was fascinated by Tiger’s presence. With no experience of Americans much beyond the big screen, his mannerisms and innate politeness were in sharp contrast to that of Australian males. She felt just a little intimidated being alone with a man so much older than herself but at the same time, it was not without its inherent arousal factor.

For Tiger, being in the close proximity of what represented in essence, a living photograph, brought its own re-awakening. As she spoke so animatedly about home, her school and some of the highlights of her brief eighteen years tenure on the planet, he knew he could so easily fall in love with this girl. Her freshness, exuberance, youth, accent…even her very inexperience, all conspired to stir his yearning and his desire to know her better. Way better.

Inevitably, alcohol stifles the inhibitions and by the demise of their second bottle, the body language of each, suggested a relaxation of their earlier enforced formality. Tiffany in fact not so much broke the ice, as signalled the onset of a new playing field, when she asked him quite off the cuff.

"How long have you been writing those stories Tiger?"

"Talk about getting to the point," he thought to himself. He placed his near-empty Bud on the table…….

Explaining as best he couldn’t what had motivated him to get involved with erotica, Tiff wanted to know the ins and outs as it were, of being a sex-story writer. Fully comfortable in her guest’s presence now, she finally asked the question that was to bring her undoing. "What made you write Holly’s Story?"

He just looked at her. Was she subconsciously putting out? Was she that naïve that she hadn’t figured that talking about this was unavoidably moving out of the shallows into deep water? Did she in fact want to experience at first hand, Holly’s degradation?

He confided in her, that like the majority of men most likely, he had always been attracted by very young girls and that Holly’s Story was little more than a recurring fantasy. He was curious what it was about it, that had so held her interest?

"Are you still a virgin Tiffany?" he asked quietly.

She blushed deeply for the second time that morning but told him she was. He was quiet for a minute or two just staring at the table top.

"Do you want to stay one baby?" he asked her, not with any menace or even pressured sentiment.

As she slowly looked back at him, shaking her head perceptibly, he knew what she knew – the conversational part of their new relationship was about to wind down.

He patted his knee and with every internal alarm frantically ringing its warning, she got to her feet, crossed to Tiger’s chair and sat down on his lap. He could feel her heartbeat even as he pulled her to him.

She raised her head, leaving him little option but to kiss her. At the point his lips met hers, she knew her childhood would be leaving her for good that afternoon. She put her arms around his neck and melted into him as she crossed the line for that first and last time.

Confronted with what amounted to a hot and willing student on his knee, Tiger found restraint of any sort difficult to maintain. Making things harder still, in more ways than one, was the proximity of those perfectly shaped small breasts, encased from what he could see down her cleavage, in a remarkably hot little green push-up. He doubted she even knew to what extent having her on his lap was affecting his sanity, let alone his motor-sensory system.

Experimentally, he brought one hand up beneath her breasts and merely supported the beginnings of those twin outward curves. He felt her squirm a little as she sighed perceptibly and the feeling of her soft little bottom making contact with his lap was doing little to regulate his breathing.

Unable to prevent his tongue from behaving, he found her a willing student indeed and between the soft little groans and noises issuing from her mouth

She heard herself moan but the pleasure radiating outwards from his contact with her breasts, was such that she simply kissed him harder and with a hitherto undiscovered passion. He slipped his hand inside her bra where the contact with a her smooth skin as it curved inwards, began to shred the last of his former honorable intentions. As his thumb and forefinger closed about the young girl’s swollen nipples successively, her wriggles became spontaneous and her moans of increased output.

He could no more have backed-off at this point than slash his own wrists with a potato peeler. If she couldn’t detect by now the savage beast uncoiling its lustful and primitive needs beneath her hot little ass, her biological knowledge was sadly lacking. As it happens she had noticed, but was in such a state of early arousal that panic really wasn’t an option.

Withdrawing from the heat of her breasts, Tiger placed his hand on Tiffany’s thigh, right at the hemline of her dress. The heat there was volcanic and her urgency apparent. At the point he began pushing her dress up slightly, she half-muttered "Nooooo" but such was her body language in denial of that statement, he simply continued. Even as the barest hint of her matching green panties was revealed, Tiff’s legs were anything but closed-up and he knew without the slightest doubt, this was no straight-up tease-session.

He had reached ground zero. The front of her panties were wet as he had suspected they must be and softly rubbing her there she became aroused to the point of chronic need.

"You sure you want to do this Tiffany?" he whispered.

Breaking off from kissing him and with full-on glazed eye contact, she just nodded, barely murmuring, "Uh-huh!"

No man in such a position is gonna ask a second time, let’s face it!

Rubbing the front of a young girl’s panties is fun….no doubt about that. Slipping one’s fingers inside though is asking for trouble. Tiger was in trouble! As his middle finger began to separate the folds of her labia, Tiffany’s legs were making like an easel. Lubricated to the max, he slipped into her and was lucky not to receive third degree burns, so hot was the radiance. Gasping now, rather than moaning, he had her so far past the point of no return, it was merely a matter of how many fingers he could get inside that cramped little room.

"Come on sweetie," he urged her, "Think you’d find the bed a little more comfortable." As he slipped her off his lap, aware now just how substantial his own erection was, he asked her softly, "Mind if I take those hot little panties off Tiff, they’re only gonna get in the way." She just stood before him, swaying slightly and breathing heavily. It seemed to him that she nodded.

As he knelt on the floor, his hands up her dress, slowly drawing the skimpy little knickers towards her knees, he looked up at her. "Reminds you of Holly, doesn’t it?" His words echoed her exact thoughts at that minute and so arousing did she find the comment, she just stood there as Tiger pushed her dress up to her hips, fully exposing her young pussy which he proceeded now to kiss softly. Her legs were turning to jelly and at the point she felt his tongue separating her lower lips, she could not prevent a gasp or two.

Carrying her to the bed, he lay her center quilt face-down. She felt his hands on her firmly caressing her back, her hips and her ass and she was unable to prevent herself wriggling beneath his touch. She made no move to stop him unzipping her dress which left her lying there in just her bra. She liked the thought of him seeing her almost completely naked and she offered no resistance as he unhooked her bra, slipped the straps down her arms before discarding the item the far side of the bed.

Lying there for a few moments, she felt his strong hands turning her over. It was only the sudden shock of seeing him kneeling there beside her fully naked as she, that provoked recognition of the finality of her predicament. He could see the apprehension in her eyes. He lay beside her and kissed her. "Tiff, if you don’t want this, tell me!"

Torn between the inherent fear of her approaching fate, yet the utmost desire for its accomplishment, she just smiled at him, put her arms over her head and spread her legs slightly.

He knelt then between her knees and lowering his face directly to her forbidden zone, flicked his tongue across her clitoris. She let out a loud "Ohhhh," her hands instinctively reaching towards him. Penetrating her this time with his tongue, he began to pleasure her in ways of which she had previously no knowledge. She could no more have stopped him than a two kilometre freight train. Actually, that analogy would have applied equally to her partner, who at that moment was so aroused himself by the immediacy of this compliant and submissive teenager that procreation was the only thing on his mind.

Taking a hold of her legs just beneath her knees, he spread her so wide, the glistening folds of her labia separated enough to provide a glimpse of that wonderfully darkened inner sanctum. He brought the head of his erection to the very gates of the promised land and as she watched mesmerised, along that line of axis directly between her own cleavage, he pushed into her. Tiger’s penile measurement, whilst unknown to her and in any event without the experience of any predecessor, was significant let us say, and at the point he reached her hymen, it was but a few inches inside.

It was as it turned out, to both their advantages that Tiffany had expended so much time playing around in her bedroom. Not only had her "fingers been doing the walking," but her recently acquired dildo had also played its part in ‘weakening the foundations.’ A couple of cries of pressured discomfort were but forgotten moments as Tiger hit the nitrous button and took himself on a fast trip up the vaginal highway. From there-on it was a case of The Fast and the Furious, right the way to Cervix city!

Whether she was Holly or Tiffany at this stage – she had completely forgotten. All Tiff knew was that her body was being treated in such a fashion that she never wanted it to end. She heard a girl’s voice pleading "Fuck me Tiger, fuck me harder…please," but she never found out who it was. Some little slut should watch her mouth she figured.

As for Tiger, locked-in to so hot a session he doubted he would ever recover, he could but penetrate her harder and deeper with each thrust, his hands rubbing her breasts, making them sorer by the minute. The girl beneath him was crying now in complete ecstasy and at the point he started ejaculating far up inside her, she must have thought some jerk was loose with a high-pressure water-cannon.

Both of them were shaking with their exertions and Tiffany’s hair was now damp and beginning to curl-up around her hairline, beads of sweat looking rather pretty, congregating round her forehead.

She clutched him to her, pulling him down full-length on top of her. Still erect and not quite sure which century it was, he just knew he didn’t want to pull out of her…..not for several more hours at least.

And so it might have been, had not her father walked in at that moment!

 © March 2005

Author's Note:

Acknowledgment is due to the original SSP tale "Holly's Story" referred to in this post and authored by Tiger himself. It is located at: http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/39/1047.html ">http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/39/1047.html">http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/39/1047.html  I recommend you read it.

Other stories, including some previously published on SSP, are available in print and download in "Imagine For A Moment" at http://www.lulu.com/noel ">http://www.lulu.com/noel">http://www.lulu.com/noel  as well as the Harper Valley compendium itself at http://www.lulu.com/content/106537">http://www.lulu.com/content/106537">http://www.lulu.com/content/106537

Peter_Pan's email is uds3@hotmail.com  I would be interested in hearing from readers as to what is their preferred genre of erotic literature.

came forth her own tongue, more than willing to play the game. Moving his hand upwards, he encircled her right breast now and commenced squeezing and caressing that softest of little mounds. No girl had ever aroused him to this level so quickly.

d tease he had endured watching her grow from a cutesy pre-teen to the curvy young schoolgirl that now stood across the room from him.

 

    Dressed as she was in that short denim skirt teamed with a simple though tight-fitting rose-colored top, one could hardly be surprised were the man’s thoughts to be aired aloud. She had come here of her own volition, dressed somewhat provocatively as usual. Slim with shoulder-length curly brown hair, yet standing only five-two, she would have appeared to any onlooker to be no more than fifteen or sixteen.

 

     Aware from an early age that her next-door neighbor always seemed to be somewhere close-by when she was outside playing, she began to see a pattern to his activities as she moved into her teenage years. If she was hanging clothes out, he would call out “Hi Emmy” over the fence. Not infrequently, he would walk up to the grocery store when she would be running errands for her mom. Always the same breezy “Hi Em,” or “How’s School?” She began to enjoy the attention.

 

    Why he and his wife had no children of their own she couldn’t say but what was obvious, whenever any opportunity came-up for him to talk to her, he would seize the opportunity with considerable relish.

 

    Moving into her mid-teens she sensed her neighbor’s interest in her developing body. More than once she noticed him at the upstairs window when she was sunning herself by the pool. Didn’t take much in the way of geometric application to figure out that in his case, the angle of incidence between her swim-top and cleavage was pretty much equal to the visible hypotenuse down her rear cleft when she would bend over to retrieve a towel. She made it a habit in fact (whenever he was there at least) to thus accentuate if not prolong any such body movement.

 

    Keith himself was once even caught-out by his wife in as compromising a position as may be envisaged. Seated in his chair near the open window, staring down at the young girl’s barely-clad rear-end, he was jerking himself to glory courtesy of both the visuals and his own rampantly impure thought-processes, when his spouse walked in.

 

   “Keith Leighton!” she squealed in abject jealous rage. “Are you spying on that little hussy next door again?” then, walking to the window as he feverishly tried hiding the evidence of his indiscretion, she stood there hands-on-hips. “I knew it – she’s walking round in just her bikini…and just a teenage girl too – what’s WRONG with you Keith?”

 

     It was less than eighteen months later that she left him.

 

     Three years on and Keith’s fantasies had evolved big time. No longer was he satisfied by the frequent display of the girl’s cleavage and a deal of orgasmic solace brought on by imagining her in multiple provocative poses in his own bedroom. To put it succinctly if not quite crudely – he wanted his hands down her panties!

 

    Nor had Emeline reached her tender eighteen years without some radically wayward hormonal input. From sixteen onwards, she had orchestrated many a satisfied moment in bed, imagining herself to be the submissive plaything of her admittedly good-looking neighbor. Simply the thought of him watching her through her bedroom window dressing for school some mornings, made her so hot she was still moist at recess. To ensure the continuity of this particular fantasy, she had of late, taken to leaving her bedroom curtains agape slightly, so that any and all post-shower activities including tugging up her panties and hooking her bra together were fully visible to her favored voyeur. Had her father known, he would either have spanked his daughter senseless or grounded her cellphone big time.

 

    Only two days earlier Keith had (for once accidentally) run into the girl at the corner store and learned that both her parents would be away for the weekend, having to attend a relative’s funeral unexpectedly. In a moment of rash opportunistic enthusiasm he had then asked the girl if she might like to come over for dinner the following night. “We could maybe watch a movie” he had offered as an afterthought.  

 

    Despite coming up with a blush of significant proportions, Emeline had replied, “Oh, sure…why not?” to which he had needed to grip the nearest display rack for support. The die was most certainly cast!

 

    All of which brings us back to the opening paragraph.

 

  “Dinner” had been a fairly quiet little affair. Few words beyond some idle chatter although both of them sensed that the likelihood of a movie actually getting played was on the remote side. Keith was finding it difficult to drag his eyes away from the young girl’s breasts while Emeline’s hands betrayed her extreme nervousness.

 

  “You know, I can see right into your bedroom sweetheart,” Keith mumbled in desperation.

 

  “You want to come upstairs and see?”

 

    In terms of a subtle verbal exchange, he may as well have asked her to remove her skirt and top and go sit on the fridge with her legs spread – it’s pretty much what he had in mind anyway! Breaking off eye contact but nodding perceptibly she then followed him to the staircase, allowing him to take her arm and lead her to where they both had in mind to go.

 

    “Did you leave those curtains open deliberately Emeline?” he asked her quietly.

 

     Still looking across at her home and fully aware he would have been staring at her rearward figure, she took her time answering.

 

   “Sometimes,” she giggled. “Why? Did you enjoy looking at me?” 

 

   “I have to be honest Emmy – yes I did! Does that make me a bad person?” he asked.

 

    Once again, a brief hiatus ensued.

 

   “Not really,” she answered, turning around to face him. “I DID tease you!”

 

  “You still are,” he grinned.

 

  “How’s that?” she asked, genuinely curious.

 

  “Just by being here,” he told her. “You must know how I feel sweetie?”

 

   She simply shrugged her shoulders.

 

  “You’re old enough to be my father,” she muttered, a sexy smile still hanging around that pretty mouth. “You shouldn’t be thinking like that about a schoolgirl!” If she had been in possession of a lollipop right at that moment she would have struck the appropriate pose.

 

    He stared at her – quite at the end of his tether.

 

  “Come here,” he whispered.

 

    She sidled over to him standing right in front of the chair. Raising his hands he cupped both her rear cheeks, behavior that in other circumstances would have signified a degree of retaliatory action, if not some sharp verbal admonishment. Emeline simply stood there.

 

    The sensation of fondling the young girl’s bottom rendered him almost catatonic. In his wildest dreams, nothing could have felt this sexy. That she was just standing there letting him – was more than he dared hope.

 

   So far as Emeline was concerned, to have what amounted to a middle-age man patting and feeling her backside was something of a major arousal factor. Never having had even a boy touch her intimately, this was totally new territory and one she intended to explore further.

 

    Sliding both hands up the back of her skirt however brought forth a soft cry of surprise.

 

   “You really shouldn’t be doing this Mr. Leighton,” she muttered, yet making no move to retreat.

 

    Direct contact with the girl’s panties, the gentle curvature of her bottom, the warmth of her body, all contributed to his burgeoning desire. Given her close proximity now, the girl’s breasts jutted but inches above seated eye-level. What he would have given to be able to suck them right at that moment.

 

     Emeline was breathing hard. She could hardly believe she was allowing this man to molest her like this and yet her body was dictating the pace. She was prepared to go farther she knew! 

 

   “Would you sit on my lap Em?” he asked softly, with little hope of her acquiescence.

 

    With no thoughts of the possible consequences, she turned and sat down demurely on his knee – always assuming it’s possible for a hot teenage girl to sit on a forty-plus year old man’s knee demurely! We might need to hold an open debate on that one!

 

    The bad news from Keith Leighton’s point of view is that this took immediate care of his rear-end fondling activities whilst the good news is that he now found himself staring directly over her shoulder and down the sexiest cleavage one could hope to espy in three lifetimes.

 

    Whatever Emeline was expecting next in the way of illicit bodily treatment, being kissed softly on the side of her neck was not on the agenda. The gentlest of “Ohhs” coincided with several ripples of pleasure making their way past her collarbone and on to areas of her body that might best be described as “interesting.”  Unable to prevent a gentle squirm, she thought she could feel something that might be considered a work-in-progress beneath her bottom suddenly. “Surely not already?” she thought to herself. 

 

    Spare a thought for poor old Keith though. There he was sitting in his bedroom, nothing much to think about except the one hundred and fifteen pounds of sexy schoolgirl perched on his lap. A face-full of fragrant hair addling his senses, a handful of semi-exposed teenage breasts within reach, one curvy little rear-end beneath that mini-skirt, massaging his procreative equipment and the girl’s parents some three-eighty miles distant! What the Hell else could he do but get happy down there?

 

    Tentatively he reached up and cupped her left breast. His brain turned to mush! What purpose in winning Powerball when you could have this instead? he figured. The girl let out a little squeal and the obligatory “nooo” but this was soon rendered obsolete by virtue of his other hand enclosing her right breast additionally. Fondling both of course had a dramatic effect on the playing field, since his gentle squeezing was causing both breasts to bulge prominently out of her bra and into his peripheral line of vision. Her increased respiratory rate simply upped the ante.

 

    Emeline could but stare down her own smooth cleavage. Aroused and embarrassed in equal measure, her body was reacting to stimuli it had never known but had long since wanted to know. She decided to lie back and enjoy it. Turning her head slightly she was neither surprised nor affronted when her partner of more than twice her age, inclined his head and kissed her full on the lips. Whatever message that sent to the rest of her body, restraint certainly wasn’t embedded in the text.

 

    Keith was a man on a mission; though spreading the word in the bowels of Africa was not to be found in his immediate itinerary. Travelling was though – all the way from her upper chest to the hem of that hot little mini-skirt. Before the girl could even muster the breath to yell out “Daddy, where are you?” he had slipped his left hand up where he shouldn’t, and was even now tugging at her hemline to reveal a particularly sexy pair of light orange panties curving down between her legs.

 

     At this she gasped, spluttered and made a really impressive show of trying to drag free his arm. Not too good mind – the last thing she wanted at this stage was to bring about his total surrender – just a warning shot across the bows was her game plan.

 

    Keith was not to be denied though and at the point his fingers made contact with the front of her panties – at quite the naughtiest port of disembarkation if one is to be a realist, her resistance faded into the ether. Any keen observer might even have detected the subtle parting further of her slim legs. Nothing that might cause one to broadcast aloud “Holy Hell – what a slut,” but just enough to maintain  interest you might say.

 

    Beginning now to rub the girl’s vaginal area through the silky material, Keith’s mouth was as dry as the Utah salt flats whilst Emeline’s eyes were closed and her hips beginning to wriggle with enforced pleasure.

 

    “Don’t put your hand inside my panties,” she murmured, just on the off-chance he hadn’t planned to.

 

     For a while he had no need to cross that particular bridge. The pressure of his fingers alone on that virginal if not vertical chasm running due south, was sufficient to have the girl sighing with contentment. More than once he detected her thrusting noticeably upwards with her hips, to avail herself of whatever frictional delights were on offer.

 

    “I want you to cum Emmy,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck as he did so. Then in defiance of her words, he slipped his hand beneath the waistline of her panties, parting her hitherto unexplored pubic curls, his middle finger slipping effortlessly into that incalculably hot crevasse beyond. So shocked was the teenager, yet so far down the slipway in terms of sheer arousal, all she could do was part her legs yet wider and place one small hand atop her own panties as he began to penetrate her digitally. A virgin as yet, access was something less than full-screen, still he knew what he was doing and after a few minutes – she did too!  Completely unlike anything she had brought off herself, the orgasm radiated outwards from her pussy in concentric circles. Her whole being shook with its tidal progress, her mouth open in silent ecstasy even before her nipples began tingling as the nerve endings transmitted their message of good will to all parts of the body.

 

    For all of two minutes no one uttered a word. Etiquette was responsible for Keith withdrawing his hand from between the girl’s legs and assuming a more modest location linked up with its compatriot around Emeline’s waist. It was fully a minute before she even tugged her skirt back down, thus covering both her panties and the recently occupied crime-zone.

 

   “I can’t believe I let you do that,” she whispered finally.

 

   “Me either,” he replied. “Did it feel good sweetheart?”

 

    Now that did bring a fully-fledged blush to her cheeks. Rather than commit herself, she simply nodded. He wanted right then to cup her breasts again but thought better of it.

 

   “What would you say Emmy if I asked you to take your skirt and top off for me?” He knew he was skirting the edge of likely resistance now…. “Just here in the bedroom – I only want to look at you sweetie.”

 

    Not wishing to be regarded as wholly promiscuous, yet aroused herself way past the point of provocative tease, she disengaged herself from his knee and crossed to the bay window.

 

   “So….you want me to walk around in just my panties and bra for you, right? Nothing else?”

 

    He would have promised her anything at this stage.  “Of course honey, that’s all!” he told her.

 

    Standing just to the left of the ornate drapes she looked back at him for a moment. He felt like he was waiting for the video ref to adjudicate on a vital point that might decide the outcome of the match.

 

    With anything but self-assured deliberation, she kicked-off her shoes then reached around and slowly pulled down the zipper on her skirt. It was a sight he would treasure the rest of his life. Wriggling her hips delicately, the item fell to the ground as she stepped out of it. Not that he was watching, his eyes now riveted on her panties or more precisely, that darkened triangular area clearly visible through the sheer material. With a growing confidence and fully aware suddenly just what power a teenage girl’s body has in the presence of the male desperate, she took hold of her top with both hands and raised it slowly over her head, knowing of course that her neighbor had probably observed her doing exactly this on nights past when she was getting ready for bed.

 

    Transfixed as the young girl’s sexy breasts were momentarily highlighted inside their matching orange protector as she lifted her arms, the man felt an intense marshalling of resources between his own legs. This was hardly a sight for sane eyes, he knew.

 

    Thus clad in just her underwear now, Emeline stood there with her arms covering up her chest in time-honored fashion.

 

  “Turn round honey,” he pleaded.

 

    Her compliance stripped away perhaps the last shred of his sanity. Looking as he was now on that provocative semi-undressed young female, sculptured rear-end clad only in those tight figure-hugging panties, flared hips that blended upwards into the curviest of figures. He could so easily have raped her silly and been happy with the twenty-year sentence.

 

    She could feel his lust emanating outwards in waves. Trouble is, it didn’t bother her.

 

   “Take your bra off baby,” he whispered…. “Please!”

 

    She wanted to do it…even before he asked.

 

    Reaching behind her, she located the clasp and the bra was on its way to join the other accoutrements on the floor. He had no need to ask – she turned around to face him, both hands at her sides.

 

    If his mouth was dry before, it was now a case of major dehydration. Staring fixedly at her beautifully developed breasts – though still to reach their full volumetric potential – he could but watch as she brought both hands up to her chest and began idly fondling herself, teasing him unmercifully by gently pulling on both nipples, the resulting effect of which was lost on neither of them.

 

    Probably unaware that in her sexually enlightened condition she was uttering now the occasional sounds herself, the spell was broken only by Keith’s sudden child-like utterance, “Let me take your panties off Emmy. I have to see you naked.”

 

    She neither answered nor rebuked him – simply walked towards his chair slowly.

 

   As if mesmerized herself, she just stood there arms at her side, watching almost dispassionately as he raised his hands to the waistband of her panties before tugging them slowly below knee level towards her ankles. As her pussy was exposed, she gave a soft cry but stood her ground, stepping out of her panties now totally naked.

 

    Just what Keith Leighton’s peristaltic rate was at that second is anyone’s guess. Reduced to gulping air to stay conscious, he meekly asked the girl if she would walk around the room for him.

 

    For some reason quite at ease in his presence and reveling in the effect her nakedness was having on him, she walked to the far wall and back, fully aware that even such limited activity was causing her breasts and nipples to bounce in time with her stride. It wasn’t something Keith had overlooked either! Obviously with a plan to fully disable his emotional gyroscope, she paused near the double bed, bending over sufficiently so that not only her elbows were resting on the coverlet, but her hot little bottom was now taking center-stage in terms of provocative tease.

 

    Uncaring that his erection at this stage was an unmissable viewing option even to an octogenarian with bi-focals, he stood up and crossed the carpet to where Miss Sexy-Cheeks was strutting her possessions better than might Paris Hilton on to her fourth Vodka chaser.

 

   A new sensory delight awaited them both.

 

   He had never really thought about spanking a teenage girl before and most certainly not a naked one. Let’s face it – who ever gets the chance to do so anyway? From Emeline’s viewpoint this was likewise, a scenario quite unimagined, even in some of her hottest and least publishable fantasies. That said, she let out quite a sizeable yelp as his hand impacted quite decisively across her curvy rear end. Truth is, she enjoyed the experience quite as much as her debauched neighbor and despite some minor procrastination, she maintained her submissive stance right through the next half a dozen spanks. The sight of her reddening tail quite tickled his fancy. It was so deliciously naughty!

 

    Speaking of tickling, it cannot be underestimated just how inviting the view is of a girl bent over a bed with her legs slightly apart, as Emeline was right that second. Should she be thus endowed with a light dusting of sexy brown pubic hair, this aspect becomes highly arousing in the short term.  Keith was highly aroused already, so this merely tipped his hormones into hyper drive. Pulling up from his seventh spank he thrust a hand up between the girl’s legs and needing little in the way of an exploratory, located and penetrated her vagina with his middle finger. So well lubricated was she, the situation had promise.

 

   “Ohhh” she cried in shocked disbelief, “That’s naughty, Mr. Leighton,” she giggled. “And it’s not nice to spank young girls either you know,” she added with precious little credibility in her voice.

 

   “Call me Keith would you please Emmy?” he sounded hurt. “As for my not being nice, how many teenage girls do you think tease their neighbors stupid by bending over a bed naked and wriggling their tushy in his face? Not too many I’m guessing!”

 

   “Well I can always get dressed and go home,” she teased, pulling his finger out as she turned around to face her tormentor.

 

   “Like Hell you are,” he responded, pushing her backwards so that she fell on to her back on the coverlet. In that instant, both knew where this had always been leading.

 

   “Are you going to rape me?” she asked, more enquiringly than with any degree of concern.

 

   “If you want to leave now Emmy – you are perfectly free to pick your clothes up, go get dressed and hi-tail it back to your home. If you choose to stay though, you’ve got me so damn hot, I think I’m going to fuck you silly – probably all night.”

 

   “I’m still a virgin,” she whispered, looking up at him with genuine consternation.

 

   “Then I guess the question is young lady, do you want to stay one?”

 

    Less than ten seconds passed before she shook her head slowly.

 

   “Before I do anything Emmy,” he whispered with what she knew to be genuine sincerity, “I just want you to know that watching you grow up from a little girl, through your pre-teens right up to the beautiful young lady you are today, I quite lost my heart to you. I know the age difference means nothing can ever come of it, but I love you Em, I always have. If you do this with me tonight, I want you to know it means more to me than you can probably understand. I want you because you’re you, not just because you are such a sexy and desirable young girl……mind you, that does help!” he grinned.

 

    Unsure just how to reply to his words, those pretty blue eyes betrayed her feelings at the point two tears rolled down either cheek. Raising her arms to him she pulled him closer. The ensuing kiss he bestowed on those full lips of hers, made up for a heap of inconsequential dialogue.

 

    Needing to somewhat balance things up clothes-wise, he shucked off his pants and shirt, kneeling beside the prostrate girl in just his boxer shorts. She could hardly fail to notice the coiled serpent within and despite his many years experience in such matters; he felt a little shy in fully disrobing in front of her. As it happened, the girl’s curiosity proved to be a valuable catalyst in the game at hand. Shyly but with committed intent, she thrust her small hand inside his undies whereupon she took a firm hold of his engorged and long-suffering tool of trade. This time the man gasped audibly.

 

   “God Emmy,” he muttered, “Talk about keen to test the merchandise.”

 

   “Will this hurt?” she asked softly, still caressing him.

 

   “Not if we’re careful baby.” He answered. “You’re eighteen now and well I guess you’ve been doing stuff yourself?  Right?”  She blushed but nodded.

 

   “Yeah well, your hymen is probably pretty stretched now…it shouldn’t be a problem,” he added with what appeared to be a degree of knowledgeable conviction.

 

    She allowed him to part her legs which excited her unbearably even though she knew he was staring, as would any man, at her most private of bodily orifices. He then slipped a pillow beneath her hips and navigated his way between her legs, holding his erection now in front of him. She gasped as he placed the head at her vaginal entrance that she knew was so wet and expectant.

 

    As luck would have it, she felt virtually no pain as he pushed into her on the third attempt. That isn’t to say though that she felt nothing overall however. The sensation of his hardness penetrating her to the depths caused her to cry out in real-time ecstasy. This was pleasure with a capital P, Fucking with a capital F, the onset of sexual freedom.

 

    She was most assuredly staying the night let’s say!

 

   To be continued…

 

© Peter_Pan 2008

 

Available in paperback now, the comprehensive anthology “The Best of Peter_Pan”  (2007 Lulu Publishing Inc: Morrisville NC)  www.lulu.com/content/679070

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self beside me at the table, making sure her leg made partial if not fully suggestive contact with my own. Kathy dropped a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of her, indicating the full toast rack center-table. When my own serve made an appearance seconds later, I couldn't help thinking how easily I could get used to this kind of spoilt domesticity, having done everything for myself for so long now. Kathy was no slouch at the griller either!

     Little Mary was the next to put in an appearance. Rushing over to hug me first had the other two's eyes rolling in their head. Best they just thought she was overly affectionate I thought, rather than clued-up as to her newly come-by nocturnal preferences. I could feel still those unripened but so sexy little pinkish folds between my fingers.

    Tracy was the last to join us. Giving me a flirty little kiss on the cheek in passing, her expression was definitely "Hmmm, I wonder if you did something with either of my sisters last night?"....then as she sat down "And if you did you are so dead meat!"

    Trying to keep the whole thing platonic in front of Kathy was anything but easy. Tracy maintaining dreamy eye-contact throughout my scrambled eggs. Having to constantly close-up Mandy's legs and fend off deliberately loaded barbs from Mary such as her infamous "How hot was it last night?" Tracy even shot me a killer glance on that one!

    Kathy seemed not to pick up on anything though and eventually we were all done. I packed the kids off to their rooms (not that they took much persuading) whilst I help Kathy clean up. Drying the dishes while she washed up gave me time to talk with her a little. I figured she must have done it pretty tough after the girls' father died but there again he didn't sound that great an asset either if the truth be known. Either way, it utilised little in the way of psychoanalysis to realise that it wouldn't take much for me to fall for this woman even though she was possessed of a fifteen year old stepdaughter that currently had my number - every which way but loose! When you're talking 'permanent' rather than 'fleeting,' a hot little teenage ass, has by necessity, to be eased out of the equation...or in Tracy's case - 'squeezed' out!

    "Would you like us to show you around Greensboro?" Kathy enquired. Even though it wasn't exactly Greensboro I wanted to be shown around, I agreed

     We took the Ford as it might have been somewhat of a squeeze in Kathy's Camry sedan. Greensboro is very typical small-town America...small, though quaint in places. I figure the entire shopping acreage there, would comfortably fit inside the Houston Astrodome. During a stop-off at a coffee bar-mid morning, the girls in fact regaled Kathy with their shopping experiences in Houston the previous weekend. I was reminded more, I have to say of that particular evening.

    "If I didn't know better, I'd say you girls have a crush on Bill," Kathy grinned as we exited yet another boutique.

    "Nah, they just see me as a surrogate father I think Kathy," I replied, trying desperately to shift the focus of the relationship. It was only seconds later I realised what I'd intimated by virtue of Kathy's enforced blush. Tracy flashed me her trademark smile and took a hold of my hand - much to the other two's consternation.

    It was late afternoon when we got back home and no sooner had we walked in than the phone rang. Kathy answered it.

    "Come and see my room," Tracy implored, propelling me towards the hallway. The other two looked daggers at her and would have followed had not Tracy waved them back. "Cmon girls...Bill will go see yours too - won't you Bill?"

    "Sure" I replied dutifully as I was yanked unceremoniously to one side. Damn, she was no wuss to be sure! No sooner were we in her bedroom than Tracy closed the door, threw her arms around my neck and started kissing me with a fervor. "Will you make love to me tonight Bill? ....pleeaase," she begged. "I know you want me, I can tell," she giggled. She wasn't far wrong!

     I was seriously thinking of bringing that little event forward to the here and now, when Kathy's voice suddenly assailed us.

    "Better see what she wants I guess," I said, disentangling her arms - God her breasts looked so inviting right there in my direct line of vision. I went back to the kitchen.

    "Look Bill, I'm so sorry but I have a real problem."

    "What is it Kathy?: I asked

    "It's my mother, she's been having a lot of trouble with her back recently. She slipped over a couple of hours ago and think's she's pinched a nerve in her vertebra. She needs me to go and do a few things for her as she can hardly walk she said." Kathy paused for a moment. "Would you mind very much looking after the girls for a few hours until I get back - probably around 10.30 pm.? She only lives ten minutes away!"

     I tried my best to look like this would indeed be a loathsome chore but that given my chivalrous nature - I was up for it. She gave me a hug that I wasn't expecting but certainly found invigorating in the extreme.

     Talk about telepathy, the news was on its way to Mary's bedroom by the time I had exited the kitchen. You have never seen three more effusive and wide-eyed young girls as were circling their quarry right that second.

     Farewelling Kathy, I barely made it to the lounge-room. Two curvy young rear ends seated themselves either side of me and Mary's, as you may have guessed sank compliantly, but uninvited I have to say, directly on my lap.

    "Let's not waste any time," she giggled, snuggling in and placing her lips in the exact right spot for me to kiss them.

     The briefest of lip contact and I made as if to get up.

    "Better we start getting something for dinner girls," I muttered.

     Two young arms grabbed mine, ensuring I couldn't get up.

    "We're not hungry Bill," Mandy pouted - I'll swear her breasts were bigger than they were even last week. Maybe I could just see more of them through that tight little top she had on.

    "Well not for food at least," Tracy teased. Her expression - pure lust at that second - her meaning anything but indistinct. "Would you like to go to my room?" she asked softly - those glossy lips promising what I shouldn't be thinking.

    "What's wrong with my room Tracy?" Mandy interjected - "You can't have him all to yourself....and anyway, you're only eighteen months older than me!"

    "And I'll be a teenager in only twenty-six months," Mary tossed in for good measure.

    "Why does he have to go to any of our rooms?" Mandy giggled, "There's no-one else here." So saying, she wriggled the hem of her skirt up to fully indecent levels. Those hot pink undies were burning holes in my retinas.

    "Pull your skirt down Mandy, that's disgusting," Tracy chided her younger sibling. "You behave like a slut sometimes - you really do!"

    "Well, look who's talking?" Mandy fired back "You've been fucking Bill whenever you've had the chance..." I heard Mary gasp with shock.

    "That's not true," Tracy screamed at her defensively.

    "OK that's enough girls," I wrenched myself free, jettisoning Mary in the process. Now cut the bitchy talk - both of you......you're just kids for Chrissake!" I added.

     Tracy, fully indignant, was already on her way to her own sanctuary. A reverberating slam confirmed the room-owner's mood.

    "Let her sulk Bill," Mandy said breezily...."Come to my room for a while - I want to show you some photos in my album." Taking my hand, she tugged me to the far hallway.

    "Can I come with you?" asked Mary, with little hope of acceptance it sounded like.

     Mandy stared for a moment at her little sister...."Yeah, I guess Mary," she muttered at last, "Come-on then!"

     We made an unlikely trio as we trooped into Mandy's rather neat little domain.

    "Is that necessary?" I asked as Mandy, having closed the door - locked it. I wasn't sure whether her action was to keep intruders out, or me in?

    "Tracy thinks she owns the place," she replied, "I'm not having her just walk in here when she feels like it.......might be embarrassing," she giggled. It was all Mary could do to keep a straight face too I noticed.

     With little Mary seated on the small bed beside me and clinging on to my arm at every opportunity, I flipped through the photo-album which did a fine job of recreating visually Mandy and the girls' earlier childhood. Thirteen years in pictures, translates to remarkably few photographic highlights, the earlier prints obviously having been given to her at some stage. One particular picture - Mandy, at five, Mary just a toddler and Tracy but a pig-tailed seven-year old, brought home to me just how young they all really were even now....just a blink of the eye since they were all finger-painting!

     I was still contemplating this fact when Mandy retrieved the album from my clutches and fully unexpectedly, pushed me back on her bed smothering my face with warm kisses, her arms around my neck.

     Now before you all condemn me for my actions, take a moment to consider the situation if you will. Even at thirteen, a young girl's willing and highly arousing body entwining itself around your own is a powerful aphrodisiac. With Mary additionally, beginning to nuzzle up against my neck, I had as much chance of shifting into neutral as of stalling the motor by tossing a ham sandwich under the hood. The scent of young womanhood is nothing to be denied either and I freely admit any chivalrous notions on site were quickly despatched to the outer periphery of my consciousness.

     I found my hand unzipping Mandy's tiny little skirt, even as she began wriggling out of the thing. My left hand too had a mind of its own it seems and had inched its way down to Mary's hot little rear-end whence it began smoothing over that wonderfully taut and curvy little bottom. I could feel the onset of the sexy cleft between her ass-cheeks and began to fondle the general area. I heard her giggle while at the same time quite obviously, spreading her legs noticeably.

     In just her bra and panties now, Mandy had shifted up a cog. Kissing me passionately, she had rendered me so far past the red-line, all I craved was to pull those skimpy little panties down and to get one or more of those hot girlish nipples into my mouth. With not a little help from their owner admittedly, I managed both tasks one-handedly in less than thirty seconds. Completely straddling me now, Mandy had one leg across her sister also and was wriggling about - fully, a young girl on heat. Reaching around with my right hand (my left was performing unspeakably inappropriate things beneath the waistband of Mary's own panties) I was able to slide across Mandy's bubble-butt and down between her legs which must have offered right then, a one-forty degree access to her under-age but supremely inviting pussy.

     It was at the point I felt her unzip me that I realised there was only ever going to be one eventuality here. It mattered not to my tortured psyche right at that moment, whether she was thirteen or thirty....I just needed absolution - in the form of my cock as far up her slippery little pussy as I could get it. I rather think this dovetailed with her own needs.

     Having by necessity to relinquish my grip on Mary's hot and pliant little ass, I held Mandy tight around the waist and kissing her with renewed vigor as her hair flopped all over my face, I just angled-up into that moist cavern between her legs with frenzied need. Completely naked now, she was moaning with unfettered pleasure, using those hips of hers to great effect. I began fondling her breasts roughly, oblivious to anything else but the need to fill her with my seed.

     What got me fully over the line however was seeing Mary out of the corner of my eye, putting her arm around her sister's arched bottom and whispering to her "Fuck him for me Mandy."

     Quite simply, it was the biggest cum in recorded history. Mandy was still humping me like an animal, her vaginal muscles squeezing me in their iron grip, thirty seconds after I was drained of that last foot-soldier.

    "You are just so beautiful sweetheart," I muttered, as I ran my fingers through her hair holding her to me now, fully aware of my recent illicit dealings but feeling not the slightest guilt reprehensibly. She smiled at me - the fully sated Cheshire Cat look, I just had to pat that sexy little bottom!

     A rather plaintive little "My turn," brought me back to earth with a thud. Lying close up alongside me and looking up expectantly, it was going to take a resolute man to knock back the opportunity....if not the obligation.

    "No way Mary," her sister responded from atop my chest and still breathing heavily from her own exertions. "You're only ten....far too young to have Bill fuck you. Get real!"

     Mary's eyes pleaded with my own.

    "I can't sweetie," I whispered, "Much as I would love too, I told you before.....when you're into your teens...maybe."

    "Well can you just kiss me and stuff," she asked hopefully.

     I looked up at Mandy who rolled her eyes. "Ok...while I have a quick shower you can make-out a little Mary, but that's all." She got off me then and picking up her underwear, skirt and top, headed for the en-suite.

    "I know you and Mary have already done some naughty stuff Bill," she said, turning to glance at me accusingly. I looked at her blankly.

    "Mary told me," she said in answer to my unspoken question. "Just look after my little sister OK?" I was still feeling like a rabbit under the glare of oncoming headlights when she closed the door to the bathroom.

     With her dress still hoiked up to the top of her legs, it wasn't helping my cause that I could now see a goodly proportion of her light green panties. Whilst contemplating this none too unpleasant a situation, Mary eased herself atop my chest to the space recently vacated by her elder sister. Way lighter but equally arousing, I could see quite clearly now the avenue of dreams, down between her tiny mounds, up until it disappeared within the recessed shadows of her little bra.

    "Take my panties off Bill," the budding siren giggled as she clung to me, arms tight around my neck. Dutifully I took a hold of the elastic waistband and had worked her knickers no further than the lower confines of her curvy little bottom, when she wriggled out of them with consummate ease. Allowing myself the luxury of smoothing over that softer-than-soft skin, my fingers slipped down between her sexy cleft, bypassed her rear portal...which yielded up a small gasp of shock in passing (I was definitely going to have to revisit this particular locale in later years, should such be possible, I mentally noted) before arriving at their intended destination. Still on the puffy side at that age, Mandy's moist labia felt like heaven. Using just one finger, I spread her pussy lips and gradually probed into the darkness. She broke off from kissing me momentarily and I could see in her eyes, the glazing and desire, resident in the aroused female of any age.

    "That feels yummy Bill," she muttered, her hips in automated movement already and pressing down noticeably upon my digital intruder. With another finger, I located the clitoral nub and began rhythmically masturbating her softly. Her legs by now were spread to the east wind.

     Call me off-centered, morally bereft or an entrenched paedophilic sicko, but don't call me incorrect, when I tell you that bringing a ten-year old girl to orgasm is anything but a rampaging privilege. When they are on the edge, pleading for more and looking at you with that wonderfully submissive expression as you finger them to Nirvana - you are at the peak of sexual anarchy.....socially taboo or not.

     Mary was at the mercy of an outwardly radiating seismic quake. Her legs clamped shut, entrapping my hand as she wriggled about uncontrollably, her eyes wide and her mouth opening and shutting with realtime pleasure. Her tiny breasts were vibrating in my direct line of vision. Holding her tight round the bottom, it would have been so easy to manoeuver my erection up into her - but I had made a resolution and by necessity would stick to it.

     I was kissing her again when I heard the bathroom door open and Mandy return to our bedside. She would have had a glorious view of her little sister's naked bottom..and my hands tight around it.

    "What happened to your panties Mary?" she giggled, patting her sister playfully on the rear cheeks. "You haven't????" have you Bill?" she looked at me accusingly.

    "Still zipped-up Mandy, fear not," I replied, pulling Mary's body to one side so she could see for herself. "Just gave her a quick thrill is all sweetheart. Anyway - I gave my word, remember?"

     Still with just a large towel around her - it would have taken nothing to tug it loose - perhaps I should have! Teasing me unmercifully, she let the towel slip for a moment, exposing both teenage breasts which immediately invoked activity within my own nether regions.

    "You think I'm pretty?" she asked in all seriousness. I pulled her towards me and kissed her on the lips. "I think you are all three the prettiest girls anywhere," I answered truthfully. I noticed Mandy's hand had returned to Mary's bottom and were not those fingers inching their way down between her legs?

     Mary gave a little squeal when she realised it was not my fingers doing the walking. "Mandy!!" she cried out..."That's naughty!" I saw here a red-hot opportunity. Seizing Mary's left hand, I guided it up beneath her sister's towelled thighs. At first the young girl resisted, but forcing her arm higher I reached the stage I figured nature would take care of the lesser details.

     At the point both girls quite obviously had reached the other's vagina, I was an unnecessary participant, but did not break up the tableau for fear of disturbing the status quo. Mandy began to moan softly as her sister it would appear, had at least one finger inside her pussy now, whilst Mary's eyes again took on that glazed look as Mandy began to finger her younger sister back along the path of righteousness. I didn't even have the luxury of being able to extricate my own erection, which was by now in dire need of some keen de-briefing.

     Having nothing else to contribute, I began fondling Mandy's breasts with my right hand, whilst my left, I slipped down the front of Mary's dress and began rubbing softly her puffy little swellings. The effect on both girls was dynamic - the moans increased and their legs parted further. I could really get used to this I decided.

     Almost positive they must have done this to each other before - possibly with Tracy roped-in as well, I just waited for the inevitable outcome. Two hot and bothered young sisters, clutching at their pussies as the waves of ecstasy subsided. Great on the visuals admittedly, but no great shakes in the area of immediate personal satisfaction.

     A sudden barrage of knocks at Mandy's bedroom door accompanied by a terse "Are you in there Bill?" most assuredly intruded on the moment.

    "What do you want Tracy?" Mandy called out.

    "I just want to talk to Bill for a few moments please," came the reply. Not often Tracey ever said 'please.' She must have been near-desperate.

     Mandy unlocked the door and just stood there glaring at her sister. Tracy wholly ignored her and just took a couple of steps into the room.

    "Bill can you please just come to my room for a few minutes?" Her eyes then fell upon Mandy's somewhat revealing towelling and Mary's obviously creased dress but to her credit she held her peace and just waited for me.

    "I'd better go to her room - just for a short while,' I added as if in justification of my actions.

     Mandy made no reply and Mary just lay on the bed looking a tad rejected as I got up and followed Tracy back to her bedroom.

     Having closed the door, she spun on her pretty little heels and glaring at me, hands on her hips she let me have it with both barrels. "You just fucked Mandy didn't you?" Before I could answer she was up and ranting. "And I suppose you fucked little Mary too, right??" As the emotion built up, she just collapsed on to her bed sobbing. "How could you?" I took a hold of her and pulled her to me.

    "Yes, Mandy and I did it Trace, but I give you my word, I didn't fuck Mary....what do you think I am??"

     Tracy was inconsolable. Between heaves and sobs she managed to get out "You like Mandy better than me don't you?"

     Emotionally vulnerable as only young girls are, I assured her such was not the case. "I love all three of you Tracy - absolutely no favorites. How lame would that be if you think about it."

     Seems like she did think about it as she stopped crying and snuggled into me. "I just miss not having a dad Bill," she muttered softly, "And I really love you - I'm just jealous I guess of Mandy...I don't know why."

    "You have no reason to be sweetie," I said kissing her now gently on the lips.

     It was of course what we both wanted.

     I had her skirt up around her hips in seconds as I crushed her beneath me on her bed. Not even bothering to pull her panties down, I just pulled my desperately hard erection out and infiltrated that seethingly hot receptacle that she was thrusting hard up against me. She even held her own panties aside to facilitate entry. This was nearer rape but so evidently what she wanted herself. As I penetrated her to the depths, the bed shook with the force of my incursions. I even tore her blouse and bra-straps in my endeavors to free up her breasts. I then suckled both nipples as I continued to force myself deeper and deeper into her womb. She was gasping with unhinged pleasure as I slaked my lust, pulling and rubbing her own breasts with feverish self-gratification as I worked myself to the very edge of reason.

    "Don't stop Bill," she pleaded, a momentary lost soul as I devoured that which she had to offer. Fifteen is a world away from thirteen when it comes to sexual capacity and fulfilment and I was made fully aware of the difference at the point Tracy's orgasm kicked off my own and we just rutted - being the only apt word - ourselves to a mutually blissful conclusion. I was still penetrating her to the depths and she, crying out for yet more coital domination, long after my cum had filled to overflowing, her beautifully tight and procreative little channel.

     Inevitably the adrenalin receded and I lay beside her, caressing her breasts and her thighs, as I allowed my fingers to roam unrestrictedly through her damp and sticky pubic hair. But for the ergonomic output we had just expended, we would both have doubtless gone for an instant replay. As it was, I had nothing left and Tracy could hardly breathe!

     What really put paid to any further interplay however was Tracy's door being wrenched open, to reveal Kathy standing there, white as a ghost.

    "Can you think of any reasons why I shouldn't call the Police right this second Bill?" she spewed the words in utter disgust.

      The fact is, I couldn't!

(c) Peter_Pan 2006

The World of Peter_Pan   www.geocities.com/worldofpeter_pan/intro.html

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iest hell-bound thoughts towards Stephanie had their inception around the time she turned twelve. I remember the exact day. The whole family being in a flurry to get to our in-laws place for dinner, I had hastened into the bathroom, unaware Stephanie was still in there. Just stepping out of the shower as I flew in, the sight of her naked body, in all its youthful sculptured magnificence - slim hips, budding breasts and first-up downy hair surrounding her child’s pussy – tipped me over into daddy’s-gone-a-hunting mode. She covered-up of course, after a cute little girlish shriek, but the damage was long done. I wanted to fuck her from that moment on.

Many was the subsequent night I would make love to my wife with more than my usual physical exertion, only to have her enquire "Wow, what’s gotten in to you tonight?" Fact is of course I had been fucking Stephanie in my mind. Not hard when she is little more than a younger version of her mom. Both are very slim, girlish and desirable.

It became an obsesssion. Taking her to school and watching her run around with her friends, I noticed her breasts developing on a daily basis. Having her sprawl on the lounge besides me some nights watching TV, oblivious to the effect she was having on me. I would spend more and more time up in her room helping her with homework assignments, just watching her little mannerisms. How she would hug herself sometimes while reading, playing with the pendant around her neck while she figured out a maths problem, flick her pretty hair out of her light-blue eyes while I would explain something to her.

I would stand behind her desk, specifically for the chance of glancing down her top even for a second. How I longed to put my hands down inside that frilly little bra and hold both breasts, rub her nipples and confess how much I loved and wanted her - in a sense she would never have been able to understand. Whenever she wore a short skirt or tight jeans my eyes would focus on that hot little bottom and I would fantasise about pulling her panties down and kissing it for hours, one finger up between her legs fingering her as I did so. This was murder!

No-one ever suspected a thing of course. My wife was clueless as to the lustful and highly improper images that were criss-crossing my mind, roiling through my grey-matter with relentless monotony.

Stephanie was fifteen now and for three years I had withstood the chronic urges that stirred my hellish fantasies. I knew I could never make any move as such, the risk of losing my daughter’s love and respect, not to mention my marriage, were both sobering enough influences. Neither was I mentally equipped for doing twenty years in the slammer, where pay-back sex of a less glamorous nature would undoubtedly await me.

If only I had never gone to the club that Friday night. It had all started so innocuously. Queued up at the bar waiting for my "usual" – a Chivas Regal on the rocks, I ran into Gary, a workmate from the office. Both of us being unaccompanied, we sat down at a corner table and got talking. A little later, the scotch got talking. Inevitably, the subject of sex came up. Gary, himself still single, belabored the fact that being unmarried still, sex for him, was running at an uncommonly infrequent rate and that this was an aspect of his life that could well do with a sizeable boost. In a roundabout "I’m-only-kidding" sort of way, I introduced the fact that my daughter who was now fifteen, was a regular teenage hottie and that I wouldn’t mind participating in a liaison of sorts…given her complicity of course.

Gary looked at me quizzically, "Really? You’d like to fuck your own daughter?……whoa!"

"Hey pal," I said, trying to make light of the situation, "Wait till you have your own teenager and have her flash her bras and knickers around. Lets see what thoughts come to your mind every so often."

He was quiet for a moment.

"To be quite honest with you," he said quietly, sculling the last two inches of bourbon, "I have always had this really bad fantasy of raping a girl – you know, a hot little schoolgirl?"

Images of Stephanie being sexually abused suddenly showed themselves full-screen in my head and I realised that I too had always harbored other fantasies of seeing her raped. I felt my entire blood supply suddenly placed on red-alert. Several litres invaded my procreative area and I knew instantly that I was lost for all money.

"Hey, maybe we can help each other?" I muttered, a half-assed nervous grin across my face. He had gotten us two refills and the conversation dipped to its lowest decibal rating of the evening.

Possibly due to the depleted condition of my primary logic circuits, I poured out to him the scope of my tortured urges and the lengths at which I might be prepared to go, to address their pressing needs.

"Are you serious Mike?" he asked at one stage. "You would let your daughter get raped? Damn! Don’t suppose you have a pic of her on you do you?" As it happened I did – a recent one in her school uniform. I showed him it.

"God Mike, I see what you mean…she’s pretty fucking hot isn’t she?"

My conscience was screaming out for me to call it a night, to just tell Gary I had been kidding around and to go home, where a cold shower might douse these infernal contemplations. My fingers were poised over the "cancel" button.

" You’d be able to fuck her too you know?" whispered Gary.

In that instant, my soul took its leave, my resistance crumbled and my fate sealed for all eternity. Gulping another mouthful of scotch and just this side of losing it, I said to him, "How’s that? she’d recognise me."

"Not blindfolded she wouldn’t," he replied. Sounded like he did this for a living! "After she’s been raped stupid by three of us," he muttered, "She wouldn’t know her father from a Polar bear. Just have to keep your mouth shut."

"Jesus Christ Gary, I dunno," I said. "It’s a hell of a risk and I don’t want her hurt bad."

"No probs Mike," he whispered, "The three of us would go easy on her. Just gonna strip her, have a play and then fuck her gentle. Hell, you’ll be there anyway – to make sure nuthin’ goes overboard….right?’

"Yeah, I guess," I replied with the limited conviction I was able to muster. Gary and I agreed to map out the final details some time during the coming week.

How I maintained a normal façade at home I have no idea. All I was thinking about 24/7 now was the imminent fate of my only daughter. Even as I was helping her with homework, I was seeing in my mind’s eye, her complete sexual debasement, her young body being used and abused and the incredible rush I was getting, visualising the depravaties to be wreaked upon her tiny five-foot-one frame even by her own father.

Gary had worked out a deal with two friends of his (how hard would that have been?? "Hey you wanna help fuck a 15 year-old schoolgirl??) Whilst he himself was more than "anxious" let’s say, to shag a young girl – let alone a virgin, he figured having a couple of other men along would inevitably spice–up proceedings, as well as limiting Stephanie’s chances of escape. My role for the first half of the evening was to be passive, being one of "overseeing" rather than participating.

The plan was reasonably simple. Picking a late Saturday afternoon and evening that my wife would be out of town – visiting her sick mother in Fresno as she did from time to time, I would arrange for Stephanie to go up to the nearby corner-store for me sometime close to dusk, knowing of course she would be snatched somewhere near the little park that she had to cross to get there. Simple enough task for three adult males with a large van. I would leave home just a few minutes later and drive to Gary’s house where they would be taking her. With the rear door left open I could gain access and take-up my silent refereeing duties, as she would be blindfolded by then. It was agreed nothing would be done to her until I got there. After the "rape" I would leave first so that I would be home when they brought her back. When dropping her off by way of a fake "home-invasion," both hers and my own life would be threatened with termination should the Police be called.

Be a cinch for me to dissuade her from risking that or even from telling her mom the next day. The embarrassment and pain would remain Steffi’s and my little secret. The only half-risky part I figured was the "snatch" itself but Gary assured me it was "no problem."

"Can you pick me up at the bus terminus around eleven in the morning please darling," Anne had asked, as her ride turned up outside the front gate.

"Sure honey," I said smiling at her and kissing her rather more passionately than usual.

"Just don’t know what’s got into you these days?" she laughed.

"Just as well you don’t," I mused to myself, watching her head-off to Julie’s Trans-Am out the front. Still with a beautiful figure herself, I was reminded of the old line. "I hate to see you leave but I love to watch you go!"

Steffi waved to her mom then hugged me. We went inside, it was still only mid afternoon.

"What would you like to do sweetie?" I asked her, my mind a swirling mass of half-formed images and fully-formed guilt. How could I even contemplate doing what I had planned? My beautiful, innocent little daughter…who loved and trusted me so unquestioningly.

"Could we go to the movies tonight dad?" she asked effusively. "I’d really like to see Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets!" Jenni (her best friend in tenth grade) saw it last night and said it was sooooo good - way better than the first one."

"Sure sweetheart," I said. We’ll catch the 8.pm session straight after dinner if you want?" My heart lurched, knowing we would never make it there.

She came across and hugged me. Fully unaware of just how arousing her young breasts were crushed then against my shirt, I had to back away swiftly before she felt my erection pressing into the front of her skirt.

With my pulse-rate mildly skirting cardiac trauma, come 6.30pm, I asked Steffi if she would just pick up some milk and a fresh loaf of bread for me at ‘Grasshopper’s’ (The nickname I’d bequeathed the corner store, as the Chinese proprietor looked remarkably like David Carradine’s Kwai Chang Caine)

"Of course dad," she smiled. I gave her a few dollars, finding it hard not to visibly shake.

"Sure you’ll be OK sweetie?" I said to her. "Hurry back before it gets dark won’t you?"

She was gone. I watched her as she half-skipped out the front gate, so looking forward I knew, to the movie tonight. I would forever remember that image. Cute, youthful figure, her light green top tucked neatly into that rather short patterned skirt which zipped from her waist almost to the hem. Shining quite natural brown hair trailing off her shoulders as she ran. She still had around her neck that tiny heart-shaped pendant her mom had given her the previous Christmas but otherwise had no great use for jewelry. Anyone walking towards her would have been struck by the perfection of her skin, her very pretty face that other than her clear blue eyes was highlighted by a full, rather sexy mouth and the cutest of little ears. Probably her greatest asset – a most dazzling smile. She was just so beautiful.

Dear Jesus, it was done! I had consigned by innocent little baby to the hardest school out there - real life! Even at this late stage I wanted to run after her and cut the thing dead in its tracks.

"Fat chance, pervert," something whispered in my ear. " You made the bed, now she can lie in it!" My ‘good’ doppelganger took off, understandably wanting no part of the coming tragedy. All I could think about was Gary with his hand in her panties!"

Just five minutes later I got behind the wheel of the car. They would have her now, restrained, terrified and alone. I was so damned hard! What am I saying? I was so damned!

Arriving at Gary’s place I was peturbed to say the least, that his van was not yet there. Had it not gone according to plan? Had he lied to me after all? and were they perhaps ‘trialling the goods’ in some back-street? That I could not bear! At the very least, being in the same room as it was happening, I might afford her some degree of protection – even if she couldn’t know it. I parked up the road a-ways and walking to the house, let myself in at the back.

Not two minutes later, much to my immense relief, I saw through the half opened blinds upstairs, Gary’s Transit swing into the drive-way. I heard the auto-door begin its ascent. After a few moments, I heard a door downstairs open and glancing down the stair-well I saw Gary, and another friend propelling Stephanie towards the staircase. The third man was close behind. My heart leapt. My poor little girl was crying and sobbing her eyes out. I could hear her pleading "Please don’t hurt me."

They had her blindfolded and with her hands tied behind her back, presumably having removed some kind of gag, but quite obviously they hadn’t done anything to her yet. Gary put his hands on her shoulder as she reached the base of the stairs. He told her to go on up.

"Where are you taking me…what are you going to do with me?" she was half-crying. "You’re not going to rape me are you?…Pleaassse..I want my dad…" she started sobbing again. One of the men laughed and I had to supress the urge to run down those stairs and re-arrange his face.

Walking behind Stephanie, holding her arm as she ascended the stairs, Gary looked up and seeing me looking down from the landing, gave me the thumbs up. I was partially comforted by the fact that he’d be coming to Hell with me.

Reaching the main bedroom, Stephanie was forced inside the doorway. I could see her shivering with fear, knowing as she must, what would be coming.

"Well kid," said Gary, "What can I say? – you were just in the right place at the wrong time. We ain’t gonna hurt you, just have us a little fun is all."

Incredibly, Steffi wound her crying down to a few strangled sobs. It was if she’d figured the odds, knew she could do nothing to stop what was coming and was at least going to keep her dignity intact.

"You are going to rape me, aren’t you," she whispered, "This is a bedroom isn’t it?"

One of the men stepped forward and gently fondled her breast. I almost creamed myself.

"Don’t,"

"Hot little tits missy," he grunted. His name was Stewart…Stu to the other two. Not a big thinker I would imagine. Gary motioned for him to stop.

"Can you take this blindfold off please and untie my hands?" she asked hopefully.

"Can’t do sweetie," said Gary……"identification and all that you know?"

"I won’t tell anyone," she pleaded… "I promise - not even my dad?" I wanted to reach out and hold her.

"Yeah well….I can’t take that risk can I?" Gary replied. "What you can’t see, you can’t tell kid."

He suddenly moved in and allowed his hands to traverse her upper body, smoothing across her shoulders, down her back, across her hips and up between her breasts. She gasped at his touch. He leaned in and kissed her on the lips which had her recoiling with disgust.

"Never been kissed eh, darling??? Oh, this is gonna be a night of firsts for you."

At that second, both the other men closed ranks around her and I watched in abject fascination as they all began to feel her up as she stood there. Hands cupping her breasts, others feeling the concave perfection of her slim hips, sliding around to cup and rub her bottom. I was so hard I was losing my grip on reality. Steffi was gasping and crying again.

"Please let me go, I’m only fifteen and still a virgin. Pleeaassse!" Her impassioned plea was heartrending although ultimately futile.

"See here sweetness," Gary whispered to her as he continued fondling her breasts lewdly, "The boys here are kinda hot under the collar, if you know what I mean. Wouldn’t be right to deny them just a little fun now we got you here, would it?"

I heard her gasp, "H…h..how many of you are there?" she stuttered, still trying to squirm her way from under those unwanted fingers.

Gary glanced across at me, as I stood over near the far wall. "Just the four of us sweetie, you’ll be OK, trust me."

They had her with her legs up against the bed now and it took but the least push to send her sprawling back on to the quilt. From where I stood even, I caught a glimpse of her hot little blue panties as she fell on her back. The other two men were openly feeling her breasts now and vocalising their pleasure loudly.

"God-damn, she’s a hot one," Stu muttered, "I love small tits!"

"Let’s suck her," said his compatriot, thrusting one hand roughly down her top. I had to unzip myself quickly, before I suffered a compound fracture of an item that could well prove to be inoperable upon.

Unable to pull her top off, with her hands tied as they were, the two of them simply tugged it up, exposing her flimsy little bra – a matching blue one. The very bra that I had frequently lusted over, wanting to slip my own fingers down as I stood behind her writing desk.

"Nooooooooooooooo" she wailed as they roughly pushed it too, right up, completely exposing both her milky white breasts to the trio’s gaze. I had to approach the bed for a clearer view.

"What do you reckon Jim?" said Gary, looking up at me, cleverly not using my real name. "Have a feel my friend, she’s one hot little piece of ass."

I had to do it, and bending down, took a hold of her right breast, feeling it, cupping it and smoothing my hand across its center, experiencing the texture of that beautiful brown nipple that undoubtedly was showing signs of unforced arousal. I watched as Stu began to suck the other one as my daughter squirmed and wriggled in an agony of despair.

She would have been able to feel all four sets of hands and lips on her, taking liberties she could barely comprehend. Right then, Gary moved it up to the next level, slipping a hand up her skirt and gently smoothing along her inner thigh, moving ever upwards. As he did so, her hemline was dragged higher until the lower left leg of her tight blue knickers was exposed. Steffi gasped with horror, realising how open she must look. Oh God! And how did she look???

As all three of them fumbled with the zip, pulling her skirt right up now, fully exposing her panties, she cried out "Don’t do this…please!!!!!!" Stu leaned forward and it looked to me like he kissed her hard on the pussy. She let out a real yelp of shock and wriggled, which achieved no more than making her look more vulnerable and sexy than ever.

"Let’s spank her," suggested Stu. Gary looked across at me – I shook my head and he responded in like fashion to his friend. We definitely weren’t getting into that area, besides, with what else was obviously planned, that's the last thing she needed. But dear God, just for a few seconds, lying there on her tummy where they had rolled her, tied like that, blindfolded and with her hot little knickers begging to be paddled, it was touch and go.

Obviously Steffi’s vulnerability was too much for Gary. I watched as he just slipped a hand up between her legs and began rubbing her pussy through her panties with frenzied deliberation.

"Don’t…. don’t do that - please," She tried to draw her knees up to limit access to the front of her knickers. Those whimpers were heartbreaking had it not been for the sheer spectacle of seeing an innocent little girl being sexually abused quite openly.

"Hold her legs for me," said Gary. "Lets have some fun with her."

Pulling her once more on to her back, the two men took a hold of her legs - a hand each under one knee and forced her legs wide apart. Even as she was sobbing "Noooooooooooooo" plaintively, I dropped a hand to my own erection, watching dry-mouthed as Gary slipped a hand up inside the leg of her panties and found what he was looking for. Her restrainers were amusing themselves meanwhile feeling her breasts and rubbing her nipples – fully exposed as they were.

"God, she’s hot and tight," he muttered, one finger obviously having penetrated her vaginal cavity.

Steffi was shaking her pretty head as if in denial of what was happening to her. I couldn’t however wrench my gaze away from her splayed legs and Gary’s hand performing unspeakably crude things beneath her panties.

"Let’s see her pussy," said Stu, continuing to rub her left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "She’s getting really hard here now." He added, inclining his head towards her breasts and indeed I could see that her nipples were quite distended – a fully automated response to the stimulation they were receiving……unwanted or not.

Pushing her legs together just long enough for Gary to tug her knickers down and pull one leg clear of them, she gasped and wriggled with fear and embarrassment at having her young genitals exposed in such vulnerable a position. Stu whistled his delight at the scene before him while the other man simply muttered, "Jesus what a hot little cunt," to no-one in particular.

A " hot little cunt" it was too! I could but stare at, what for so long I had simply imagined! - my daughter’s virginal and currently somewhat moist-looking slit. Displayed before us in all its colorful and inviting glory, not a man born could look upon the sight without experiencing erectus supremus .

So hot was she lying there like that. Softly curved hips, wonderfully flat and smooth tummy blending-in with those cute light-brown curls framing her hitherto protected labia that Gary now was separating so carefully with his fingers, while she cringed and shook her head in shame and horror. Her knickers, hanging loose off her left ankle completed the picture of abject debasement, her own personal flag. Not so much at half-mast as bearing witness to the death of their young owner’s innocence.

Gary’s instructions of "Hold her legs wide now," signalled the end of tease and the onset of a new life for Stephanie. I could feel the flames of Hell being stoked for me even then – a burning ember to be conflagrated for eternity. Stephanie’s agony would be short – mine, unending!

The rape could have been worse! Maybe because I was there..perhaps because he did have some remnants of compassion himself, but Gary took his time. Despite her tears and quivers of disbelief that this could be happening to her, her pussy was obviously far from dry and even as Gary slipped his erection in the first inch or so, he let out a cry of "God, she is sooo tight," as he cupped her bottom and held her up marginally.

I had to ease the burning lust between my own legs and began stroking myself as I watched him sink it further in. Steffi was sobbing loudly and pleading with him not to rape her and that she could get pregnant. That was something I hadn’t been thinking of, but her very words of warning just upped the ante. The thought of watching her get pregnant simply added fuel to the furnace despite the obviously damning consequences.

Her cries of "Ohhh, that hurts…..please stop," signified that Gary had reached her hymen. Momentarily, he pulled back. Stunned, I noticed a considerable amount of glistening moisture trickle out of her pussy and down her leg. She must have been highly lubricated despite the circumstances.

"It will be very quick sweetie," he said and thrust into her. Before they could get a hand over her mouth, Steffi screamed. It was a scream of pain, shock, lost innocence and God-knows what else. Withdrawing temporarily, we could all see the red-tinged rivulets trickle out of her, staining with the mark of Cain, Gary’s virginal-challenging intruder.

He was in her now and although not raping her with insensitive cervical thrusts, was running his own little gamut of repressed sexual release. Still crying, but otherwise just lying there, Steffi presented a figure of resigned defeat as she allowed his lust to run its course. The other two were muttering obscenities watching the rape as Gary turned into the home straight.

For myself, I was but milliseconds from finalising my own little sexual contract, yet wanting to save the entire warehoused stock for the main delivery – that for which I had agreed to this diabolical tryst. I let go of my erection breathing stertorously.

"Fuck me, I’m going to fill her cunt," Gary announced, before pulsing into her for fully ten seconds. I wish I had been able to see Steffi’s eyes right at that moment – it would almost have been worth the twenty years hard labor.

He pulled out and I saw a thin stream of viscous white fluid seep out of her pussy. Having let go of her legs, Steffi closed them and half-turned on her side moaning and sobbing. Her breasts wobbled slightly and presented an unimaginably arousing sight, her nipples very erect and her cleavage well delineated at that angle.

Her rest-period was short-lived. Stu pulled her now to the edge of the bed as the other two again held her legs bent at the knee and spread wide for easy access. He pushed his cock hard into her and she grunted with surprise. I felt pre-cum trickling down my own leg as Stu fucked Steffi with plenty of zest. Her breasts were vibrating with each thrust and her head being tossed from side to side as he worked to slake the lust he had built up most likely watching Gary fuck her.

Again she just lay there, letting this thing of evil roll over her. I did notice I thought, the slightest quiver of her own hips as he neared the red line. "You are such a fucking hot little tease," Stu announced as he neared full countdown. Grabbing her around the hips, he leant forward and began sucking her right nipple while still taking her so deep. They had her legs incredibly spread now and to see cum actually running out of her as she was being raped stupid was just beyond white-heat. He came in her with the inertia of a road-train and I noticed that even when they let go of her legs, she made no immediate attempt to close them.

Both Stu and Steffi were breathless. Again, she turned on her side and just lay there moaning quietly. Her arms must have been aching incredibly.

By the time the third guy was half-way through fucking her, there could be no doubt she was responding…if not unwillingly. I could see her hips moving upwards to accommodate his thrusts and her moaning did not necessarily appear to reflect her total dislike of what was happening. I could be wrong.

"Well Jim," Gary was saying, "Want to wrap this up now? You want to fuck her?"

Not being able to speak obviously, I intimated for two of them to hold her legs. This, after all this time was my moment. I was finally getting to fuck my sexy little daughter and how hot must that by necessity appear to the other three?

I looked down at her….at the exposed nipples – still majorly erect, her ravaged pussy pulsing out waves of white goo as I watched and that inviting slit not a foot away from the biggest damn erection I ever had.

Slipping it in to her was as easy as passing a hot needle through butter. I so wanted to kiss her, tell her it was me, hold her and make love to her, It was though, far too late for any romantic notions. Time simply to fuck her silly!

Grabbing her hips, I somehow locked-on to that median line between full-on rape and passionate affection. I think she sensed something. Not that it was me – but that it was somehow quite different from the other three.

Probably having a need to tend their own out-of-control urges, both Gary and Stu relinquished their grasp on her legs. Amazingly, she made no attempt to close them, simply lying there as I fucked her in a frenzy of incestuous lust. Even as I reached the zenith of my forbidden coupling, I became aware of the other three kneeling over Steffi and wanking white streams across her face, her nipples and her lower abdomen. It triggered my own delivery mechanism and I would be prepared to swear that as I pumped into her a world-record amount of semen, I felt her cum also. Maybe wishful thinking on my part – I’ll never know.

Amidst the ensuing silence, the four of us just stood or knelt there, watching Steffi wriggle slowly on the bed, and moan abstractly. Glistening cum ran down between her breasts as well as trickling down her cheek. I’m not even sure she noticed.

She half sat-up and pleaded with her captors "Please, don’t rape me anymore. I’m just so sore and my arms are hurting." I went over to her, pulled her bra back down to cover her breasts and then tugged her knickers back up. Even then, cum was squelching out of her, soaking the front of the thin blue cotton. She would be needing one hell of a shower when she got home.

Gary nodded to me to be off and I silently took my leave, trembling now with the full realisation of what I had orchestrated. The few moments of intense sexual nirvana had come at a dreadful price.

I had been home less than quarter of an hour when there was a commotion at the front door. Opening it, I was confronted by Gary.

"We’re just parked around the corner," he said. "I’ve told your daughter you’ll be killed if either of you make any attempt to involve the Police. Open your garage up now so we can drive in and unload her, OK?" He winked at me. "God she was fucking hot, wasn’t she?" I nodded blankly.

Backing the Transit in, they bundled Steffi, still blindfolded and tied, out the back and into my arms. She started to sob uncontrollably.

"Don’t even think about untying her or removing the blindfold till we’re down the street," said Gary, "You know what will happen!" He climbed back into the van and it rolled out of the driveway.

Even as the roller-door descended, I untied her wrists and removed her blindfold. Her little face, stained equally by cum and tears looked up at me.

"What the hell happened to you sweetheart?" I had no trouble letting my own tears flow. "What have they done with you? How did this happen?"

"I’m OK dad," she replied, shaking and clinging to me.

"Did they…..did they er, do anything to you sexually Stephanie?"

She just broke down, "Ohh dad, I’m soo sorry," Her tears were compounded by choking emotion.

"They didn’t…….rape you did they??" I think I was convincing. Memories of the event flooding back in wide-screen full surround sound.

She nodded.

"Oh my God Steph, We have to call the Police…." I said to her, applying a touch of reverse psychology.

"No dad….you musn’t . They told me what will happen if you do that. She was rubbing her wrists now trying to restore some proper blood flow I imagine.

"Yeah, well they threatened me too honey, but we must report this," I responded.

"Look dad, its done now…I’m just so sorry I’ve let you down." The tears flowed again with a vengeance. My own too.

"Oh, my beautiful girl," I said to her, "Do you think I blame you for this? What happened though? How did you end up with them?

She told me everything. About being kidnapped, tied-up and blindfolded, taken to a house and being raped by several men. I held her to me while she talked and I responded as one would expect a stricken father to respond under such circumstances.

"What if I’m pregnant dad?" she blurted out suddenly.

"Well sweetheart, " I told her, "That’s a bridge we will cross if and when we have to. Let’s not worry ourselves prematurely huh? I managed to smile at her reassuringly.

As one might surmise, more than anything else she wanted a long hot shower. I kissed her, told her how much I loved her and suggested she go wash away the memories of her recent encounter.

"What do you mean dad?" she asked.

"Well sweetheart, I just mean that having been raped by four men you could probably do with a hot shower……"

I heard the sudden intake of breath………………. "How did you know there were four of them dad?"

They saved my trial till last. The media of course had a field-day. "Father at the center of plot to pack-rape his own daughter." Gary and his mates obviously took the plea-bargain option, conditional upon their agreeing to be the main prosecution witnesses.

As the judge said to me in her summing up, having announced the guilty verdict. "No words can describe the actions of a man who would willingly betray his daughter’s love and sacrifice her innocence for a few fleeting moments of carnal pleasure." Her lips were quivering as she added, "If there is any justice in the hereafter, let us hope that your soul will be damned for all eternity."

So as I said at the outset – I will be going to Hell. Twice actually – twenty five years of it in Folsom County, the balance when they bury me in that un-marked grave!

The only good news – she wasn’t pregnant!

 

 

Copyright June 2004

she said to him, turning away in an attempt to dislodge his hand. He simply groped her the other side.

 

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her daughter to safety before the impact. It had been enough. In as much as she had fallen forwards, Emily had been spared the sight of her mother’s body being tossed airborne, driven into and butchered by the glass…but she heard it! She tried to scream…but no sound came out.

Medical opinions varied – don’t they always?

Jonathan Clarke sat upright in the ergonomically designed piece of extruded plastic, masquerading as a chair. The equally sterile sign on the desk read "Dr Peter Browning – Speech Pathologist." The man lowered his glasses.

"You must understand Mr Clarke, your daughter has been severely traumatised."

Jonathan had understood that much twenty minutes after the accident – when he arrived on the scene and his daughter had been unable to speak to him!

"Well yes doctor, I realise that," he replied, wanting desperately to snap that fucking sign in pieces and shove it down the specialist’s coat pocket. How many years had this guy trained? How many exams? for him to sit there and tell him his daughter was traumatised? Jesus Christ!

"But can you give me something a little more concrete to go on? How long might it be before she can talk again?" he added.

Dr Browning returned his gaze, seemingly figuring if he could still make that golfing appointment.

"Well Mr Clarke, all tests show there is no physiological damage – it’s just a case of Emily herself coming to terms with this er, incident. Quite frankly, time is really the best healer."

Jonathan got up. This conversation, like the dozen or so which preceded it, was going nowhere. "Thank you doctor," he said unemotively, turning on his heel and leaving the consulting room to collect Emily from reception.

People react differently to stress and loss. Some handle it, some seek to blame others. More than a few suffer emotional and personality melt-down. Unfortunately for Emily, Jonathan Clarke fell into the latter category.

Whilst her schoolwork did not appear to suffer initially – after all, she could still hear quite normally and besides long periods of being withdrawn, she was able to fulfil working tasks set for her. Few of her circle of friends were prepared to put themselves out to extend any emotional support and one by one withdrew into their own little cliques. Emily became a figure of solitude – that "poor girl who doesn’t want to talk."

Her father began to drink and in his irrational and alcohol-fuelled state, he eventually arrived at the warped conclusion that if Emily had just gotten the school bus that day, instead of having her mother drive her – he would still have a wife and female companion.

Emily sensed a change but at twelve could hardly understand why her father didn’t seem to love her as much. She felt it was something she must have done but had no idea what it could be. Whereas once he would help her with homework – she used to point-out the items she needed help on, now he stayed away and left her to her own devices. He rarely even kissed her goodnight any more. She missed her mother so much she would cry herself to sleep most nights!

Heading up towards thirteen now, Emily was a most beautiful child. Although still not yet menstruating, her body was developing in all the right places. Her hips had slimmed down and become quite pronounced. Very finely rounded young breasts that were already well past the services of a training bra. Only five-two, she could have passed for sixteen easily with a little make-up. Shoulder-length light bown hair complimented an angelic face, home-base to a cute slightly upturned nose and smooth, flawless high cheeks. She looked out at her sad and lonely little world through pretty hazel eyes that if you looked hard enough, betrayed the pain and anguish of her loss.

What her father was increasingly looking at however was something quite different. Many months now since the accident, the enforced role of being a single parent was not much to his liking. Emily’s rather sudden transition however, in his eyes at least, from gawky kid to curvy in-house tease, began to stir a lot more than simply his memories. All may not be lost, he reflected. The situation most definitely had possibilities.

It wasn’t that Emily hadn’t been trying to regain her speech. Most nights she would sit in her bedroom in front of the mirror and will her throat to deliver some sound…any sound. She could sense the presence of a system inhibitor – the kill-switch was spliced-in somewhere between her mind and vocal chords. She knew also that she herself had brought this intolerable existence into being and that she was the only one that could deactivate it.

It was the first day of spring. Walking home quickly from the nearby bus-top, she closed the front door behind her and headed into the kitchen, to find her father seated at the table reading the paper. Not only was he home from work two hours early, he had been drinking again. She could sense a distinct shift in their interpersonal wavelengths. The person who turned to look at her was a complete stranger.

"Have a good day at school Emily?" he slurred, "Oh tha’s right, I forgot, you can’t fucking talk can you?"

He was staring at her, his eyes slowly taking in her whole uniform and quite obviously, most everything underneath it. Emily cringed and instinctively brought her arms up protectively. The schoolbag afforded a comforting amount of protection. He poured the remaining contents of the bottle into the small glass. The only sound in the room momentarily was the ice clinking briefly against the glass.

"Curious as to why daddy’s home early Emily?….Sure y’are sweetie." He slammed the glass back down on the table.

"Well you’ll be proud of ya dad, see he got his-self a raise at last." He looked at her almost beseechingly….."Yeah… a raise alright…….right out the fucking company." He paused for an instant, his eyes filling with tears. "So, what d’ya think of that sweet Emily? – your old man got his ass kicked well and good. He just sat hunched up at the table, an inconsolable pillar of misery.

"Lost my wife, my job….but hey, I still got a daughter that can’t talk…shouldn’t complain." His voice trailed off as he studied her.

"Ya know Emily, you’re one beautiful little girl – so like your mother, come and sit on my lap – give yer old dad a cuddle."

She was torn between allegiance to her father and wariness at his obvious insobriety. She had never seen him slipping this far down into the ooze and yet the alarm bells were pealing like the veritable old clangers at St Martins.

Her love and instinctive trust of her father over-rode her common sense and putting her school bag on the table beside the empty bottle, she allowed herself to be pulled on to his lap. For a while he just sat there holding her round the waist. Inevitably though, the immediacy of so arousing a young female body, daughter or not, tested his resolve to the limit. He allowed a hand to stray to Emily’s knee, just below the hem of her schooldress. She made as if to dislodge it.

"What the? " he looked up at her. "Can’t even put my hand on my own daughter’s leg?" She started to get up, but he pulled her back down.

"You stay put girl," he mumbled. "Day comes I can’t touch my twelve-year-old daughter’s knee is a frosty day in Hell." He made a point now of encircling her leg just below her hemline. "See here kid, I used to have a wife – remember? You decide you want a lift to school one morning and suddenly I don’t have no wife….don’t have no fucking life either!"

He was unmoved by her sudden flood of silent tears and probably unaware of the cruelty inflicted by such a devastating statement. All he could see was a red mist. At its heart was a growing lust – no so much for his daughter particularly as simply a female body. It had been so long.

Through the thin schooldress, he could feel every curve of her bottom as she wriggled uncomfortably on his lap and it had always been just a matter of time before the blood commenced marshalling its resources at that critical point between his legs. Emily herself was only too aware now of her father’s arousal and struggled to free herself from his grip. The hand on her leg began to cross the line suddenly from familiarity to indecency.

She stared in shock and disbelief as his hand rose up her thigh, dragging the hemline with it. At the point her little white panties were revealed, she began to tug violently at his hands. Shaking her head in denial and with the tears in free-fall she clawed at him as her mind worked overtime to locate that elusive kill-switch.

Maybe it was the arousing sight of her knickers combined with the natural heat from her thighs. Perhaps simply the fact of having a young girl in so vulnerable a position on his lap. Whatever the catalyst, her struggling served only to inflame his desire and nuzzling her neck as he now was, the sight of her small but developing breasts heaving just out of sight down the front of her dress, tipped him over into fully fledged bad-ass territory.

"What have you got down here then sweetheart?" he mumbled incoherently, shoving his right hand roughly down her schooldress. She writhed in an agony of despair, tears blinding her pretty face.

As his fingers pushed roughly beneath the thin bra, tearing her dress and leaving it gaping, they encountered a softness that he had never imagined. Almost with the power to sober him up, he held her breast within his hand, fondling and rubbing it lewdly. Blinded with disbelief that this could be happening to her, she had no recourse left but to continue shaking her head while trying to break free of his grasp. She may as well have been trying to escape the embrace of a polar bear….let alone, one on heat!

"C’mon Emily…quit struggling girl," he railed at her, "Yer dad just wants to have a little play with your tits is all. Le’s see if we can get those hot little nips to stand up for daddy?" As he slurred the words, his hand cupped both breasts together as with his middle and index fingers, he began pulling and manipulating her nipples one after the other.

To her horror, she felt them becoming engorged and beginning to protrude slightly.

"Now then , that’s a good girl," he muttered, "Jus like your mum….she loved a good feel-up too." He began to kiss her neck as she tried to evade his lips. Tiring of her non-compliance, he slapped her hard across the back of the head. Emily was stunned momentarily.

"What’s yer fuckin’ problem girl? Yer dad not good enough for you?" Enraged suddenly he pushed her hard off his lap on to the floor. He stood over her as she got to her knees. Her dress having risen up as she fell, it was now hitched high one side. The sight of her three-quarters exposed panties only fuelled his lust.

"Never too late for a spanking kid," he mumbled as he delivered a hard smack across her rear end. She fell forward again trying to cover her bottom with her hands. Dragging Emily to her knees, he pulled her dress right up and spanked her hard again. He was beginning to like the sensation. Unable to make a sound or plead for help, Emily had no option but to take it. A further four or five spanks left her bottom stinging and her pride in tatters.

A lull in proceedings gave her false hope that the worst was over. That is until her father now standing astride her, bent down, simply encircled her waist and began fondling and rubbing both breasts with lustful impatience. Her schooldress was ripped open and glancing downwards she watched with horror as he just tore the flimsy little bra apart and left her breasts hanging loose. She could not believe how erect her little nipples were.

Jonathan got down on his knees behind his daughter, although all he was seeing right about now was something that shortly would be the panacea for the raging fire needing to be quenched within the turbulence that once passed for a loving parent.

His right hand moved ever backwards, seeking the holy grail of incestual perversion. The front of her panties called ‘time-out’. As he cupped her entire vaginal area, for a moment or two he was was unable or unwilling, to grasp the full implications of his degenerate actions. So shocked was Emily, she knelt there rigid with fear, unable to believe her father was wreaking this psychological devastation upon her.

As the heat from between the girl’s legs blew his last few coherent thoughts away, he tore the soft material aside and began rubbing her slit furiously, it felt so good, he could almost forget the ruination that was his life.

In desperation to extricate herself from this untenable situation, Emily kicked out blindly. Her unexpected retaliation caught him unawares and as the heel of her school shoe opened up a three-inch gash in his cheek he clutched at his face in pain. Freed momentarily, Emily took the opportunity to scramble to her feet but seeing his quarry take flight, Jonathan‘s self-defense mechanisms kicked-in and he caught her before she could make the safety of the hallway, maybe even the front-door. With her dress ripped, her breasts and knickers exposed, she put her hands up to defend herself. He slapped her hard across the face and followed this up with a savage and uncontrolled backhand that staggered her.

"You little cunt Emily," he screamed, hitting her again. She fell backwards across the edge of the table, which not being built for encounters such as this, tipped over, discharging its contents as well as the tablecloth across the girl’s prostrate body. She lay there stunned, her back was hurt she knew and she could feel blood running down her face from where he had struck her.

Having but the one impulse-rending need now, he knelt down in front of his distraught daughter and simply ripped her knickers down. As her pussy was exposed, framed as it was rather attractively by the dawning of light brown hair, he unzipped himself with feverish haste.

"Think you’re too fucking good for your old man huh Emily?" He splayed her legs roughly as he pulled his erection out. "Well girl, let me tell ya, you ain’t nothin’ but a whore – a two cent whore at that. Now spread those fucking legs and lets have no more of your crap."

Through a veil of tears she saw him inclined towards her, erection in hand. She looked around, desperate for anything to stave off the inevitable. Amongst the folds of the tablecloth something glittered.

As he gruntingly worked the head between the folds of her soft labia, Emily’s mind re-played a collage of those memories so dear to her. Her mother dressing her for her first day of school. Dad kneeling by her bed telling her a story. The Christmas she received her three-wheeler bike. Sitting on the verandah watching the first snow of the season……just then, she found the kill-switch!

Even as he pushed hard into her, she screamed out "No daddy,no." her small hand raised high above his back.

The first thrust didn’t kill him, the second one did!