Chapter 1
(Mg, voy, mast)
Chapters | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 22 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 |
Warning: This is just a story. Please do not try this at home.
Standard Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit
material and as such it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please
leave now as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read
or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material,
please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any
resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you
are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are
offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, sex
between minors and adults, or any other situation, please check the story code
before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not
promote or condone the activities described herein, especially when it comes to
unsafe sexual practices or sex between adults and minors.
If Palmetto County, Texas, existed in the real world, it would be wedged between Chambers and Jefferson counties on the Gulf Coast. Palmetto Island is a salt dome, twice the size of High Island to the west. The island is mostly surrounded by wetland, with Kirsopp Lake to the east. Palmetto Island is about halfway between High Island and Sabine Pass. The only access would be on State Highway 87. The city of Palmetto Island was established in 1918, in anticipation of prohibition, and billed itself as the Monte Carlo of the Gulf Coast.
While Galveston Island, to the west, had something to offer for all classes, Palmetto Island Resort catered only to the wealthy, and was relatively unscathed by the Great Depression. It was a favorite hangout for war profiteers during the World Wars and the Korean Police Action. The Island suffered its own depression in the 1960s after the Texas Attorney General and the Texas Rangers raided and shut down all illegal gambling operations in 1957. A revival began in 1969 when the Palmetto County Cultural Arts Council promoted preservation, restoration, the arts, and tourism. It became a blue collar Mecca for fishermen, duck hunters, birders. Before the Arts Council's renaissance, the cheap rents had attracted artists and artisans, and a bohemian lifestyle.
By 1974, the Island was booming.
Narrator, Frank Harris, 33, 5'10" 160# slender, reddish brown hair, moustache and goatee, and brown eyes; Journalist, currently copy editor for the Palmetto County Chronicle, working 2 to 10p.m.. Before becoming copy editor, he covered county government and politics. Before that he served in the navy three years, worked as a towboat deckhand, and spent three years as a patrolman for the Petroleum Point Police Department.
Helen "Nellie" Harris nee O'Hara, 29, 5'5" 115#, slender, blond hair blue eyes telephone company service representative. Married Frank the day after her 18th birthday. The marriage has not been a happy one. She constantly complains about not having enough money.
Felicity Harris, 10, 4'5" 65#, slender, red hair, green eyes. Intellectually and sexually precocious, but physiologically normal for her age.
Chapter One
Friday, June 4, 1976 10p.m.
I decided to go straight home instead of stopping at O'Malley's Tavern for my usual after work drinks. Normally I got home between 1 and 2 AM. I didn't want to be hung over for Felicity's tenth birthday pool party at the Enchanted Garden Apartments, where we had lived for the past three years.
As I pulled into the apartment parking lot, I saw Felicity going up the stairs to the apartment above the laundry room, where the security guard, Sergeant Preston lived. I hurriedly parked in my assigned space, and rushed to our apartment, where Nellie was talking to someone on the phone. She was surprised to see me.
I thought she looked guilty; like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Yes," she said into the phone. "It's hard to believe my little girl is ten years old. Where does the time go?
"Frank's home. I'll talk to you later."
"Where's Felicity?" I asked.
"She's spending the night at Pauline's apartment. What are you doing home so early?"
"I decided I didn't want to be hung over for Felicity's party."
"How considerate."
"Who was on the phone?"
"Uh... Betty Marshall."
I sensed she was lying. Betty was Nellie's best friend, and had been since junior high school, and it was normal for them to talk on the phone. But she averted her eyes briefly when she answered. I had been a newspaper reporter for nearly 10 years, and a street cop for three years before that. I was good at reading people.
I wondered what Felicity was doing in Sergeant Preston's apartment. She sure as hell wasn't going to her friend Pauline's. She had gone up the stairs hurriedly. Recalling the scene, she seemed happy and enthusiastic, not afraid or concerned. The Sergeant was good with kids. He kidded with the boys and flirted with the girls. He was popular. Everyone liked him. He was a retired Chicago cop, who patrolled several apartments and a couple of strip malls nightly between 10p.m. and 6a.m. in his black 1969 Corvair Spyder with a roof-mounted spotlight.
We had our love of classic cars in common. His Corvair was one of the last of its kind. My 1964 ½ silver smoke gray Mustang was one of the first of its kind. His was top of the line. Mine was bottom of the line -- basically a 1964 Falcon with a sporty body, bucket seats, three speed floor shift, and the small six cylinder engine. It was my first new car, and I took care of it. Except for the wire wheel covers, and an aftermarket console, it looks just like it did the day I drove it off the lot.
I briefly thought about going to Sarge's apartment to check on Felicity. I remembered him frequently flirting with her and other girls in the complex. He was so open about it that I, and I suspect, other parents didn't take him seriously... didn't see him as a threat. What if he was molesting my 10-year-old daughter at that moment?
'Of course he's molesting her, or he will be,' I thought. My reaction to that thought surprised me. I didn't feel outraged, I felt a tingling in my crotch as I hardened.
No sense in letting my hard dick go to waste. "Hey, Nellie?" I asked. "Since we're going to be alone tonight, wanna fool around?"
"No. I had a rough day," the cold bitch replied. "I'm tired and I have a headache."
Exactly the response I expected. About once a month she'd gave in, and "let me have my way". Not tonight though.
Sex with her had never been great. She was a sexually unadventurous prude; missionary position in bed, under the covers with the lights out. No oral. And I loved eating pussy. My sex life wasn't lacking. Betty Weaterlage, the Chronicle's photographer, and I had been getting together for long lunches at least once a week for the past three years. Her husband, Ronnie, sometimes joined in. Patsy Poole, Palmetto Island's City Secretary occasionally got together for a fast, furious, and totally uninhibited fuck.... usually when her husband pissed her off, which was at least a monthly occurrence.
Nellie took a couple of Nytol capsules, and chased them down with a wine cooler. She was out cold in five minutes.
Felicity's bedroom window looked out onto the parking lot, and Sarge's apartment. I peered out in time to see Sarge going down the stairs. Felicity's head stuck out the partially opened door and looked around. Then she stepped out onto the landing, totally naked, and waved at Sarge before quickly ducking back into the apartment and closing the door. My cock twanged to a renewed instantaneous 9-inch throbbing erection. I hadn't seen her naked in at least three years, but her regular night time attire, a cutoff tee shirt and skimpy panties, always gave me a hard-on. It had been nearly two years since I told her she was too big and heavy to sit on my lap, because she would squirm and wiggle, grinding her butt into my crotch.
I tried to not think of her sexually. Have you ever tried to not think of something. The harder you try to get it out of your head, the more persistent and visual the thoughts become. Like in church, when the preacher quoted Jesus, saying, "whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart." The more I tried not to look and lust, the more I looked and lusted. I eventually decided that if I'm going to hell for looking and lusting, I might as well enjoy the act. I'd rather go to hell for fucking than for thinking about fucking. I gave up religion when I was 16 years old.
I should have been enraged that a 55-year-old man was with my 10-year-old daughter, who obviously enjoyed being a naughty girl. But inwardly I was thrilled that she was naughty. Was she old enough to fuck? Of course she was. Betty told me that she started fucking when she was 9-years-old, and had her pussy eaten when she was 6 or 7, and started sucking cock when she was 7 or 8.
I made a pot of coffee and waited for Sarge to return from making his rounds. I got the mini cassette recorder, and suction cup mic I used to record telephone interviews. When he returned, I crept up his stairs, licked the cup and stuck to the window to the right of his door.
"Are we gonna call your old partner, Riley?" Felicity asked, giggling nervously in anticipation.
"Yeah. He's been bugging me to let him talk to you since I told him what a hot, sexy little slut you are."
"Put it on speaker," Felicity said.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Riley," Felicity giggled. "What are you doing?"
"Filly? Is that you?"
"That's me, Sarge's fucking Filly," the young girl's voice said. "Did you get the pictures Sarge took with his old timey camera?"
"Yeah, Baby. You are so smoking hot."
"Sarge said that you'd love the one of me looking up at him while sucking his cock. He said that you'd probably jack off to it until your dick was blistered."
Lewd laughter from Sarge and Riley.
"I've used about a half gallon of Vaseline to prevent that."
"Which one is your favorite picture?" the girl voice asked.
"Hard to decide, Baby. The one of you with his cock in your mouth, the one with his cum all over your face and filling your sexy mouth. The one you took of him eating your pussy. The one with his cock in your juicy cunt. The one with you fucking yourself with that big black dildo. They're all great, Baby. I can't wait to see you in person."
"When are you coming down?" she asked.
"I retire in two weeks. I'll stay with Sarge until I get my own place."
"Cool! I never had two men at once. When I was little, I had two boys take turns play fucking me. They were twins."
"How old were you?"
"Five, I think. I don't think I had started kindergarten yet. It was like the summer before I started."
"How many men are you fucking now?"
"Actually fucking? Like on a regular basis? Ummm, Alex Crowley. He's the artistic director at the Palmetto Playhouse. Mr. Whipple at the ice cream parlor. Uncle Larry, whenever we get the chance when he gets to come home from the army. He was the first one to fuck me, when I was 8, almost 9. He's 10 years older than me, and used to babysit me when I was little. We fooled around a lot."
"What about your grandfather?"
"We haven't really fucked. We don't get many chances to be alone together. Grandma O'Hara is around most of the time. I jacked him off a couple of times, and he finger-fucked me. He ate my pussy once. He's pretty good at it. Not as good as Sarge or Mr. Crowley, but pretty good."
Riley chuckled, "Sarge tells me that you had him, Crowley and Whipple all fuck you one day."
"Yeah," Felicity giggled naughtily, "but not all at once. Mr. Whipple fucked me in his office before he opened the ice cream parlor at 10. Then me and Alex did it in his office at the playhouse, on his casting couch. Then, I spent the night with Sarge. I'm such a fucking slut. Sarge and Alex love me being a fucking slut."
"Sarge and Alex know about each other?"
"Yeah. They don't know each other. They've never met."
"You want to hear us fuck, Riley?" Sarge asked.
"That's a big 10-4, Sarge!"
"Eat me, Sarge. Eat my pussy. Sarge always eats my pussy before and after he fucks me. He gives me an orgasm with his tongue, and with his cock, and with his tongue again. He loves licking and sucking his cum out of my cunt after he's fucked it."
"He tells me that you get off two or three times while he's lapping up him own cum."
"Yeah. Ohh God! Oh yes. Oh fuck! Suck it. Suck my clit!"
I couldn't believe I was listening to my daughter. But it was my little girl's voice. I looked around. No one in the parking lot. The curtains were drawn on all of the windows facing Sarge's apartment. I pulled out my cock and stroked it.
"Oh, God! Eat me. Eat my pussy. I'm cumming! I'm cumming. Ohhh Fuuck!"
"I'm sticking my cock in her hot, juicy little cunt, Riley. I'm putting the handset on the bed beside us so you can hear my cock pounding that hairless pussy."
"Fuck me, Sarge. Fuck me hard."
"I can hear it," Riley said. "I can hear the slurping and slapping of you banging that juicy preteen pussy. Fuck her, Sarge. I can't believe that I'll be banging that hot little nymph in two weeks."
"You want it, Baby?" Sarge asked. "One cock fucking your cunt, while another cock's fucking your sexy mouth?"
"Yes, I want it. I want to fuck and suck a lot. I fucking love fucking and sucking cock. I love being a fucking slut"
I ejaculated on the steps.
"Fuck me hard! Harder! Harder! Oh God! Oh Fuck. Unh unh unh unhunh. Yesss! Yess! Oh Fuuuck!"
I had my ear to the window, listening to the lapping, slurping sounds of the 55-year-old ex-cop eating my 10-year-old daughter's freshly fucked cunt.
"Oh, God! No more! No more. It's too fucking sensitive now."
"I have to clean up and make rounds," Sarge said. "You get some sleep. You want to be rested up for your party."
Felicia giggled, "Did you like it, Riley? Did you get off to listening to us?"
"Oh yeah. I came all over myself. I'll mail Sarge a Polaroid in the morning. I've got cum strung from my chin to my belly button."
"Cool. I like the pictures of your dick. I've never had an uncircumsized one before."
It was so bizarre, listening to my little girl's voice saying these salacious things. I was upset at myself for not being enraged at that child molester. Instead of anger, I felt envy. I imagined her sucking my cock, and wanting to hear her saying, "Fuck me, Daddy! Lick your cum out of my cunt, Daddy!"
The suction cup made a "pop" when I pulled it from the window. I hurried down the steps, and hid behind the dumpster.
Sarge came out, and said, "Get some sleep, Babe. I'm going to be a while. I'm going to make a double round, and maybe a triple." He descended the stairs, got into his Corvair, and drove through the parking lot, scanning the parked cars with his spotlight.
I went to our kitchen, rewound the tape, then played it. With the volume turned up all the way, I had to put my ear next to the crappy little speaker to hear. But I could hear every word. I listened again, and masturbated again, with visions of Sarge fucking Felicity, of her stroking her grandfather's cock. Of him finger fucking her prepubescent pussy. I visualized Sarge fucking her doggy style while she sucked her grandfather's cock. I wanted to watch my daughter being a cock hungry slut. I wanted to tell her that I would arrange for her and my father-in-law to be alone together long enough to do anything they wanted to do, and my brother-in-law, and any other man she wanted to suck and fuck. I wanted to guide another man's phallus into her hot, juicy fuck hole. I wanted to say, "Fuck her. Fuck my daughter. Fuck her good. My slut daughter wants your hard cock in her hot pussy, and I want to taste your cum after you fuck her."
I was astounded by my own depravity. I wanted all of her molesters to know that I wanted them to do anything and everything she wanted them to do with her. I wanted Felicity to know that her Daddy wants her to do whatever she wants to do with whomever she wants to do it, and that I would help her do it, however I can. If she wants to fuck and suck cock, Daddy wants her to fuck and suck cock.
Before going to bed I showered, jacking off to the mental image of sitting on Sarge's sofa watching Felicity sucking Sarge's cock before bending her over his kitchen table and running his cock into her slutty cunt and fucking her cross eyed. Fuck... what an intense cum I had! Slept like a baby too.
In Chapter 2 - By the pool at Felicity's birthday party, Frank lets Sarge know that he knows...
The only way to know if anyone is reading is for them to send in a comment, If you liked this story (or didn't like the story) your comments will be greatly appreciated by the story's author by using the form below. If you wish to remain anonymous, just leave the Email and/or Name box blank. Thanks!
Or... I will respond to all critiques, comments, compliments, and/or complaints sent to my email [email protected]