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From: <stereograph@hushmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Over the Line pt1 of 3 {Stereograph} (Mg nc caution ped pett hist) 
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Date: Sat, 21 Oct 2006 00:10:02 -0400
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The following is a work of fiction.  It should not be taken as a guide to
behavior in the real world.  The people, places and events exist only in
the mind of the Author.  This is a work of pornographic fiction, it should
not be read by those who are under the legal age to do so in the
jurisdiction where you live.  It may, or may not, contain matter illegal to
read where you live.  Please know and obey the laws of your own country,
the Author cannot be responsible for the laws of every country connected to
the internet.  Neither the Author, nor society condone some of the actions
presented within.  

Please, enjoy the story.

This first part should be taken as if coded 'Slow'.

<1st attachment, "Over_the_Line_pt1.txt" begin>

                            OVER THE LINE
     WARNING: This story contains depictions of sex between an adult
and a child below the age of twelve. If this bothers you please read
no farther. It is set in a time of war and contains depictions of
violence. 

Codes: Mg nc caution ped pett hist

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
                             Meeting Daisy

"Lieutenant, I would like you to take my granddaughter, Daisy, with
you when you return to the Union" said my hostess, Mrs. Rutledge.

"Ma'am, you underestimate the danger of this trip.   I will be subject
to capture every step of the way, until I report to the Union Army.
If I'm captured out of uniform I'll be shot as a spy by the Confederacy,
or as a deserter by the Union.  I'm not a safe escort for a child!"

"Young man, I know just what risks you face.  I was born, near here,
before the Indians were driven off.  My husband and I were in Texas 
when the Mexican war started, and fought our way back to the States.
My granddaughter must return home to her parents, and you are the first
person with a hope of getting her there I've found.  Indeed, if I could,
I'd send all my grandchildren with you.  The Confederacy's days are
numbered.  Sooner or later the Union will resolve its political conflicts
and an effective commander will be put in charge of the war.  When that
happens the fight against us will be brutal and successful.  I want to
spare my family that.  For most I can't, but for this one child there
is a hope."

"I'm not a father.  I don't know how to care for a little girl" I plead.

"Daisy is not so little as all that.  She's ten and can do most things on
her own.  She can understand your directions, and the danger involved,
if you explain them.  She can walk the miles you'll need to cover.  She
needs the same care as your men.  She's better behaved, too, unless
soldiers have changed.  You can do this.  Men have been caring for
girls since Eve had her first daughter.  They learned, and so will you."
She added a chuckle after this.

"Where do you want her to go?  You mentioned parents, but what are hers
doing in the north?" 

" My eldest married a merchant from Pennsylvania.  The couple settled
in Pittsburgh, opening a grocery.  Daisy was born there, along with a
younger brother, and knows no other home.  Another child should have
been born by now, her mother mentioned being pregnant in the letter
that arrived with Daisy.  Please take her home and spare her from this
war" plead my hostess.

"I'll consider it carefully," I said.

"It is time you met Daisy, I'll send for her."

At this point I should explain how I had had a conversation with a
confederate Lady, at all, and in her own home.   Three days earlier I
had been leading my Company, as part of a raid in force, against a 
Confederate supply depot.  We were campaigning around the mouth of the
Tennessee, hoping to force an opening into the interior, and the depot
was keeping our foes in supplies.  The raid went well, until a rebel
brigade threatened our line of retreat.  I was shot in the head beside
the gate to the home I later rested in.  It was a glancing hit, grazing
my scalp, and rendered me unconscious.  After the battle had passed Mrs.
Rutledge and her daughter Mrs. MacNab, a young newlywed, found me and
nursed me.  They stitched my scalp and tended me until I awoke.  They
had not alerted the government to my presence.  I now knew why.

In a few moments Mrs. Rutledge returned with two other women and a
girl.  One of the women was Mrs. MacNab.  The other was Jeannie,
daughter-in-law to Mrs. Rutledge.  The girl, Daisy of course, had been
visiting Jeannie and her family for the week past.

Daisy was a pretty child, with honey colored hair worn loose as is common
for maidens below the age of courting.  She had the similar thin, sharp,
features to her grandmother and blood aunt.  Her child's dress hid any
hint as to whether she was growing into a woman's shape yet, as it ought
to.

Daisy stood quiet during the introductions, except for the required
responses, and the social chat that followed.  I took this to be a
wariness of strangers rather than a strictness of the household.  Her
grandmother's easy ways seemed to confirm that.

After the required things had been said, her grandmother said "Daisy,
this man may be taking you home.  The two of you should get to know
one another.  You will address him as Uncle Al.  Why don't you show him
our collection of stereographs.  We ladies will retire to the kitchen to
gossip.  Dinner will be ready in about half an hour."

After they had left the child went to a cabinet and returned with a
Holmes viewer.  A second trip fetched a file box.  We sat down before
a sunny window, and she opened the box.  The first few cards she drew
were the standard views.  I asked her if she'd seen any of the places
in person.

"No" she replied.  She rifled the box again more carefully.  "I've
seen this place."  She moved a bit closer to share the scope more easily.
"This is where Grandpa is."  The view was of the Tennessee statehouse.
She moved closer yet.  "This is Uncle Jesse."  A studio shot of a
confederate Captain.  She scooted over a bit more, now we were nestled
together.  "This is my cousins and me."

"My cousins and I," I corrected.

The picture showed about a dozen urchins. I knew Daisy was the eldest,
but it must have been a busy year for babies.  At least two more seemed
to match her age.  Another looked close as well.

"Grandpa had a photographer do these," she said.  The next shot was a
group of adults.  "These are Grandpa, Grandma, and my aunts and uncles."
The group contained two officers and a private, all in confederate dress.

I confess it felt good to have Daisy snuggled against me and talking
freely.  I had missed out on having children of my own to date, and
enjoyed the warm closeness.  I did not feel aroused, not this time.

"This is everyone."  Mr. and Mrs. Rutledge were standing.  Before
them, on chairs, sat eight adults, in couples.  Before each couple, but
one, sat children in separate groups.  Daisy stood between two couples,
just in front of her grandparents.

"You must miss your parents."

"I'm afraid I'll never see them again.  Will you really take me home
Uncle Al?"

"I'll try," I promised, "I don't know if we can make it through."

"Why does there have to be a war?" she asked.

"I can't answer that.  The folks in the North and South both are
Americans, but can't agree on which is more true to what that means.
I'm just as confused as you on what caused this war."

"If I go home will I ever get to see my family here again?"

"Someday this war will end.  There will either be one nation or two
then, but travel will be possible again.  You are far from the only
person with family on both sides.  Some fathers in the border states
have sons fighting in each army.  This can't go on forever, no one will
stand for it, no matter how much they are committed to a cause."

"I just want Mommy and Daddy."  She turned to me, the look on her face
so frightened my heart melted.  "Please take me home Uncle Al!"

"I will, don't fret anymore."

Her smile lit the whole room.  My heart melted again, this time in a
pleasant manner.  I was committed now.  I couldn't bear to let her down.

"Dinner should be ready, let's go." I said.

Over the next week I came to know Daisy well.  Once over her initial
shyness she proved a lively imp.  We started each day with an hour of
play.  She favored the roughhousing type with me, though when her aunt
joined us, we played more gentle games.  Then it was lessons for her until
dinner.  These were conducted by her grandmother.  After dinner, she read
for an hour, I helped her with that.  Then it was outside for her while
her grandmother and I prepared for the trip, or just talked.  I joined
her for the last hour before supper.  We chased, and tickled, and explored
every inch of the grounds.  In the evening she snuggled against me, as
I smoked my pipe in the garden, and chattered as children will.  She was
curious about everything.  She asked me no end of questions, some of which
I preferred not to answer.

Through all this innocent activity I felt a growing fondness for her that
was not so innocent.  I did all I could to dampen this, but it would not
go away.  I fought temptation manfully.  I won, but only just.  I had
no wish to become a pervert.  I could not understand where these thoughts
had come from.

My temptation only became worse when she began to ask for me to tuck her
in at night.  I thought her grandmother would forbid that, but I was
wrong.

"You'll be with her every night on the road, Al.  You will see more, of
necessity then, than you will see these nights."

A week after meeting Daisy we took to the road. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
                               On the Road

Our first day went well.  We made good distance, even if not at the pace
the sergeants would have set for my men.  Daisy had not the stamina nor
stride for that.  I wished to go a bit slow, for our safety, anyway.  We
had no idea where we might meet solders, I hoped to avoid them altogether.

There were some things that didn't fit my plans.  One was that Daisy
would not relieve herself alone.  She was a bold girl, but feared meeting
spiders, snakes, and suchlike.  I had to keep lookout for her.  I tried
not to watch her, but the corners of my eyes betrayed me.  She seemed not
to care whether or not I watched.  Little could be seen as she hiked up
her dress and parted her bloomers.  Also, I caught her hiding behind a
bush watching me relieve myself once.

Close to the end of our day's hike she complained of being "stinky".  We
had to have a bath it seemed.  We were nearing a stream, so I offered to
find a camping spot along it.  Just out of sight of the road I found a
good, flat spot, where the stream opened out into a pool.  From Daisy's
pack I drew soap and cloths.  I tried to send her to bath alone while I
set up camp.  She wouldn't go.  The snake fears surfaced again, not
without grounds.  We downed our packs and went to the pool.

"Who will go first?" I asked.

"We'll go in together, Uncle Al" said she.

"That is not proper at all."

"Poo-poo on proper, we can play in the water.  We haven't played all day!
Last one in is rotten egg!"  She giggled and began undressing.

"Young lady, I should wash your mouth out for such language."

"You have to catch me first!"  She stuck out her tongue and danced away
a pace or two.  She was down to skivvies.

"Think I can't?  Rotten children get washed out and dunked!"  I too was
in my skivvies by then.  I don't recall how that happened.

A moment later she shed her bloomers, the last garment she had.  She
raced for the pool, me right behind her still in my drawers.  For the
next little while we splashed, chased, and wrestled.  I could not describe
her nude from that time. We moved too fast, and when not moving it would
have been hard to tell what flesh belonged to which person.  At one point
she got my drawers down and off.  She played keep-away with them until I
agreed my "stinky butt" needed bathed as much as the rest of me.  They
remained off.  The soap never did enter her mouth.

Once we were winded, I declared the we must wash before anymore play.
She was reluctant at that, but I offered to wash her back for her and she
came to kneel before me.  She rested her fundament on my thighs.  It was
just inches from my manhood, which stood up and took notice.  The feel
of her small back beneath my hands was contributing as well.  That trust,
which I felt tempted to abuse, was flattering beyond measure.  I took
far more time washing her than needed.

When I finished she took the soap from me and moved behind to wash my
back.  She, too, took a long time at this task.  Her little hands stroking
my skin drove me to a higher level of arousal.  I thought I could take no
more.

She finished, and moved around in front of me again, handing me the soap.
She perched on my thighs, facing me, and said "Wash my chest now, Uncle
Al".  This was too much.  I almost called a halt.  Almost.

"This is not proper," I started.

"I don't care," she insisted, "I like you washing me.  Daddy used to
wash me.  You are taking care of me now, so you may do the same."  Her
face began to cloud up.  She was preparing to "get stubborn" as her
grandma termed it.  I didn't wish to deal with that.  Worse, temptation
beckoned.

As I soaped my hands, Daisy arched her back and planted her hands on my
knees.  I had my first good look at her chest.  I was not prepared for
the sight that greeted me.  She had no real breasts, but she had something
more than a child's, or man's, nipples on a flat base.  They were just
bumps with an slightly oversized nipple.  I had never seen, or imagined
such a thing, yet every girl I had known must have had these at one time.
She could not have been deformed, this must be the first beginning of a
breast.  My hands itched to feel them.

First I put them to more mundane tasks, saving that pleasure for later.
I soaped and washed her shoulders.  She showed her trust by arching her
neck and closing her eyes.  I took advantage of that to wash her neck.
She didn't react at all.  Had I the desire, I could have strangled her.
That total trust almost stopped me from going further, almost.

I worked my way back down to her collarbone. Then I traced a soapy line
down her center to her naval.  She giggled as I pushed my finger in.
I worked my hands in opposing circles up her belly to her ribcage, then
farther up.  Now I came back to those breast buds.  I ran my fingers
across them.  They did not yield as much as a womans.  I brushed them a
second time and she moved slightly.  Afraid I had frightened her I
stopped.  

"You haven't finished, Uncle Al" she said.

I resumed.  I put the palms upon her tiny breasts and turned the fingers
to her sides.  Continuing the circles, I washed along her ribs.  My palms
slid over her breasts again and again.  She was smiling!  I kept washing,
from collarbone to waterline always returning to those breasts, for far
longer than utility required.

Looking down I realized her sex was so close to mine.  It was close
enough I could have pinned mine below hers by pushing it down.  Just the
thought made me harder.  Had she not seen that as she sat down?

I truly, for the first time, grasped the dilemma of Tantalus, standing
in a well I could never drink from, inches from fruit I could never taste.
There could be no relief, not even by self-abuse.  Daisy would not grant
me enough privacy.  The sooner I handed her over to her parents the better
for my shaky sanity.

"I'm finished.  You could hardly get any cleaner."  I dipped water in my
hands and began rinsing her.  I didn't touch her anymore.

"My turn!" she cried, with a grin after.  She picked up the soap and
placed it against my chest.  Soon she was stroking her hands over me.
She seemed to take great delight in running her fingers though my hair.
Her hands made gentle caresses, in long strokes, all over me.  She
stopped to pinch my nipples, a grin of mischief on her face.  She washed
me as I had her.  As her hands ran over me my desire soared.  So too did
my depression that this would not be completed.  The back of her hand
brushed my throbbing member as she washed my belly.  Then she declared
herself done and handed me the soap.

She scooted backwards and stuck a leg up.  "Wash my stinky foot!" This
was worse than before.  Her sex was in full view, spread.  I took the
foot in hand.  I soaped it, caressing the sole.  That caused giggling and
squirming.  Each little toe received attention.  Then on to the ankle
and calf.  On to the thigh.  I could hardly avoid contact with her sex
at this point, and didn't try to.  We repeated the ritual with the other
leg.  She grew thoughtful each time my hand brushed her sex, but she did
not stop me.

When her legs were done she slid herself off of me and demanded my foot.
She had more leg to deal with than I had.  She rested my knee on her 
shoulder to wash the thigh.  When her hand was wedged between sack and
thigh she again grew thoughtful.  She spent more time there than needed.

She stood and turned.  "Now wash my butt!"  She giggled, wiggling that
target.  I squeezed and kneaded those globes.  "Naughty boy," she said
with a wicked smile.  I stuck my tongue out at her.  She turned and
splashed me still smiling.

"It's my turn now.  We'll see how you like it," she said.  She treated
my tail like a lump of bread dough.  Kneading, squeezing, even slapping
it.  She didn't apply enough force to cause pain.  It was clear she
enjoyed herself.  The laughter gave her away.  I growled at her playfully.
That only spurred her on.

"One more part left to wash.  I need to use it first.  Come with me to
the bushes."

"No need for that, just go here, downstream."

She looked surprised, then mischievous.  She squatted, almost to the
water, and peed right in front of me.  She was almost too close.  "All
done, sorry for the mess.  I'm neater most of the time."

"We still have soap" I said, brandishing the bar.

" No soap in the crack!  It stings and itches for days."  She looked
pitiful.

I could believe that.  Her granny brewed a potent soap.  I wouldn't have
wanted it in my eyes, or mouth, or nose.  I suppose the inside of a girl
is the same.  It feels like them.

I washed her, using the soap only were the pee had run on adjacent areas.
I used just water on the rest, splashing it up then rubbing it in.
Throughout this she looked thoughtful.  The third time I did that she
said it was enough.  I didn't want to stop.  I forced myself to.

"You next, do you have to pee first, Uncle Al?"  She looked disappointed
when I said no.  Hard as I was, I couldn't do that.

She soaped me and proceeded to explore.  She poked, squeezed, pulled,
and looked over every bit of that throbbing pole and it's sack.  This
wasn't the stroking I craved.  Some of it hurt.  I didn't try to talk
her into what I wanted.  Soon she was finished.  She splashed a bit to
rinse me, then splashed a great fountain at me.

I called a halt to the play soon after that.  I washed out our small-
clothes, hanging them on bushes to dry.  We wore our towels and pretended
to be South Sea Islanders.

When it came time to put out the bedrolls Daisy insisted I make both up
into one bed.  I refused.  She wore her stubborn look.

"I'm not sleeping where the lions, tigers, panthers, and bears can eat
me!"  She was on the verge of tears.  "You are responsible for me Uncle
Al.  You have to protect me from them."

"There are no lions or tigers in Tennessee.  If there were, they wouldn't
want to eat such a rotten child.  They like fresh food."  I hoped the
logic would change her mind.

"There are bears and panthers.  Bears eat garbage, they won't mind a
rotten girl.  And I'm not rotten anyway, I'm sweet and bears love sweets."

So much for logic.  I thought, for a moment, about the switch her grand-
mother had given me.  In the end I gave in.  We turned in for the night
shortly after sundown.  Daisy went to sleep quickly, I did not.

My mind ran over the day's events, the terrible arousal that could not be
satisfied.  Daisy snuggled against me now did nothing to help that.  My
thoughts wandered on to the woman I had betrothed.  Like many couples we
had borrowed against our marriage to be.  We had touched one another at
every chance, be it so brief.  We had rutted fiercely when we could find
cover to do so.  One week before our wedding she had broken it off, to
flee to the arms of another man.

My mental wanderings were interrupted by the cry of "What are you doing!"
I came to awareness to find my hand inside Daisy's towel, on her sex.
"Stop!  You can't touch there, it's wicked!"  She was wide-eyed with fear.

I withdrew my hand.  "I am sorry, I was half asleep and thinking of
something else.  I didn't realize I was doing that."  

"What could you be thinking of that caused you to put your hand there?"

"You're to young for me to answer that question."

"I am not," she said.  "Why would you be thinking of anything that
could cause you to do that?"  She had calmed down and seamed to be
merely curious.

"I was thinking of a woman to whom I was once betrothed."  I hoped she
would ask no further on that topic.  I should have known better.

"Did you touch her like that, Uncle Al?"  She now looked very intent on
getting an answer.  "Do grownups touch like that?  Why would they do such
a wicked thing?"

"It is not wicked for married people to touch one another in that way,
Daisy."  I hoped not to go much farther with that subject, I was not
ready to tell her all about sex.  That was her parent's task, not mine.
"People accept that a betrothal entitles the couple to act as if they 
are married already."

"Oh, does touching privates have to do with making babies?  I know about
that."  She wore a look of superiority.  "Mommy told me some of it, Cindy
told me more.  She's older, thirteen, and been naughty enough to let a boy
do that to her.  She said it's really fun!  If it's fun, how come it's not
allowed?"

"I don't suppose you'll let me say I don't want to answer those
questions Daisy?"  I hoped she would.

"Nope, you touched me, so you have to tell me why.  If you don't, I'll
tell everyone and you'll be in trouble."

She was more right than she knew about me being in trouble.  If answering
her questions was the price of silence, I'd do it.  "Married people may
touch each other anywhere they please.  Touching each other's privates
is enjoyable by itself, but it is most often a part of coupling.  When
a man and woman join their privates they can make a baby.  It does not
happen every time, but can any time they do it.  Babies need parents to
raise them, and that takes a long, long time.  Only people who have vowed
to stay together, and take care of the babies they make, are allowed to
couple.  If other people do that they are being wicked because the babies
they might make would not be cared for properly.  Your friend is lucky she
didn't get pregnant.  If she keeps letting boys in her, she will.  God
made coupling feel really, really good so we would obey his command to
be fruitful and multiply.  He also commanded that a man and woman join
together, for life, and the good feeling is one of the rewards for
doing so."  I prayed that would be enough for her.

"Did you marry the woman you were thinking about Uncle Al?"

"No, she broke her vow."

"Does that mean you acted wickedly?" she asked.  That was a question I
dreaded.

"That is a tough question to answer.  In one way, yes.  We should have
waited for our wedding night to start doing those things.  As no wedding
happened, we would not have done them.  On the other hand, most people
take the vow to marry to be as binding as the marriage vow itself.  That
is why most people allow that the betrothed may act as if they are
married.  So what we did was not wrong, the fact that she broke her vow
was wrong."

"If we were married, or even betrothed, would it be alright for you to
touch me as you did?"  She looked me in the eye as she asked.  "Would it
be alright if I touched you the same way?"

"Oh, yes.  We would be expected to touch like that Daisy."

"We touched like that in the bath today, were we being wicked then?"  Yet
another question I wished she had not asked.  "My parents washed me, and
played with me in the bath before.  Were they being wicked?"

"We were being at least a little naughty.  You knew that then.  There are
reasons why some other people can be allowed to touch.  Care of children
is one.  That is why your parents did so.  That is what I would like to
claim to have been doing, but I knew we were being naughty too."  I didn't
intend to let her know more of what I had been doing.  I pray, daily, she
has never guessed.

"Play married with me."  I was stunned when she said that.  "I can play
at doing many things I'm not allowed to do for real.  If we play married
we can act like we are married, as long as we don't go too far.  I'll
even let you touch me between my legs again.  Please, Uncle Al?"

"Do you really mean this?  Some of what might happen will be strange to
you."  I ached to say yes and start.  I had to know she meant what she
said.

"If I play at driving a cart I can hold the reins, work the break,and
shout commands to a horse.  I can't have a real horse, or crack the whip.
If I play at married I suppose I can kiss, touch, and talk like we're
married, but not let you inside me.  Play married with me please, Uncle
Al."

I'm afraid I let this child's logic stand.  "Very well.  Should we kiss
to seal our wedding?" I asked.

In answer she pecked me on the lips.  "We're married now." She giggled.
"What should we do next?"

"How about we start by kissing like grownups?"  She gave me an odd look.
"Grownups kiss one another more deeply than that.  They open their mouthes
and put their tongues inside each others mouth.  I warned you some things
would sound strange."

"That sounds icky.  You're just putting me on."  She did stick her tongue
out, from a foot away.

"Nope, this is for real Daisy.  Your parents do it, but not when you're
watching, your grandparents do it, even Cindy does it.  We can try it
without putting the tongues in first.  Would that do?"

"I don't know, it still sounds icky, but we can try."

Daisy was a game beginner.  Despite her protests she puckered up, then
parted her lips slightly.  I moved in my best tongueless kiss, working
my lips over hers, and sucking her bottom lip into mine.  She copied my
kiss, even giving my lip a tentative lick.

"That was kind of fun."  She gave me a wary look.  "I'm still not sure
about the tongues though."

"Trust me, it's more fun than it sounds.  It'll tickle.  You like
tickling, don't try to tell me different."  I attacked her armpit,
drawing squeals of laughter.  When she regained her breath, I puckered
up again.  She move in to join her mouth to mine.  I stroked her lips
with my tongue, and she returned the gesture.  I sucked her tongue into
my mouth and flicked my tongue against hers.  Her eyes grew wide, then
I felt her mouth grin against mine.  She licked my gums, and returned
the flick.  I chased her tongue back into her mouth, darting mine around.

She broke the kiss and said, "It did tickle!  Let's try it again."  We
kissed for several minutes trying variations, and she became a convinced
kiss addict, as all people do sooner or later.  My hands roamed and hugged
her back the whole time.  She soon got the idea and did the same to me,
though her arms lacked a bit in reach.  Then she asked "What else can we
do, Uncle Al?"

"We can kiss other parts than just the mouth.  That's fun too."  I
demonstrated, planting kisses all over her face, not neglecting the ears.
The ears set her to giggling.  Then I moved down her neck, along the line
of her collarbone, and finally to those cute, tiny breasts.  She nearly
jumped out of my arms on first contact with a breast.  Then she pushed it
forward for more.

She breathed out, "Can I do that too?"

Leaving her breast, reluctantly, I answered, "Yes, all you like."  I
returned to her mouth.

She spent some time at my lips before starting.  She did well until she
reached my chest.  "You're all hairy.  I don't want hair in my mouth!
Don't try to tell me women like getting hair in there mouthes.  I won't
believe you this time."

"Do what pleases you.  I doubt many women like hair in there mouthes,
but most do like the smell and taste of a man.  Just don't use your
tongue on the hairy parts, or come on back to my lips, Daisy my sweet
girl."

She did explore my chest.  Soon she was sniffing like a dog.  She paused
to look up at me and grinned.  She put her tongue to my nipple, it felt
like heaven to me, then sucked it.  She planted wet, tongueless kisses
all over.  She gave an experimental lick up my breastbone to the point
where the hair began.  "You do taste and smell wonderful, Uncle Al!  Can
I kiss anywhere I want?"

"Anywhere.  That is one thing love means, I belong totally to you."

She kissed her way to my belly.  Unlike some men I'm not very hairy there.
She used her tongue to tickle me, drawing chuckles.  She dipped into my
naval.  She looked up at me.  "I can touch anywhere?"

"Yes, Daisy, anywhere you wish."

She placed her hand upon my sex, barely touching it, and stroked from
balls to tip.  She looked up for my reaction, grinning in response to
my smile.  She tried a second, firmer, stroke, then buried her nose
against my sack.   "Oh, this smells the best yet!" she said into that
place.  The feel of her breath, and those words, sent me beyond where
I'd been.  She planted a light kiss on the shaft, I suppose the sack was
too hairy, then followed it up to the end.  "Yuck!  It's snotty!  Is it
supposed to do that?"

"Yes, Daisy, it is.  That isn't snot, though it must be similar.  Tell
me you don't lick your snot and I won't believe you."  Show me the
child you claim does not lick their snot, and I'll call you a lier.
All do, and when they want to show off their naughtiness they can be
pretty showy at it.  In any event, she giggled, giving herself away.
"Taste or not as you please.  I hear some women like it, some don't.
I also hear some women lick their men even though they don't like it
to please the man.  The only other lover I've had wouldn't, so I won't
be disappointed if you don't."

She took a small lick and tasted it as if it were an unknown wine.  "Not
bad.  Tastes a lot like snot, but something is different."  She tried some
more.  She shrugged, "It's alright I guess, will you touch me now?  It
feels good when you touch me."

I would have rather she continued what she was doing.  "Your wish is my
command, Sweet Flower."  I latched onto her mouth for a kiss, then used
the buildup of spit to wet my hand.  She looked surprised at that.  For
the next little while I just caressed her lightly.  Then I started
alternating soft and hard strokes.  At one point I even played 'Eencey
Weencey spider', complete with lyric, on her.  All through this, I kissed
at her mouth and upper body.  Then I re-wet my middle finger, parted her
sex, and began to play on the hidden bits within.  She emitted squeaks
and hums as I did this.  At one point I must have rubbed her too much on
the pleasure button, she reached down to move my hand a bit.

Then Daisy reached her climax.  At first I thought I had hurt her.  She
screamed as if the feared bears and panthers were dividing her between
them, with wolves grabbing a portion for themselves.  Her back arched,
and the little tit in my mouth turned to stone.  Her screaming changed
to short bursts that couldn't quite get out, as her breath went ragged.
I could feel the entrance to her womb spasm against my finger.  All this
went on longer than I expected.  She collapsed.

"Did we do something wrong?" she asked, once she had the breath to.

"Looked to me as if we did it just right," I said.  "You just had a
climax many girls might envy."

"That was what was supposed to happen?  It felt really strange!  Are
you sure we did it right?"

"Did it feel good?  Do you feel happy now?  If so it was just right.
If not, you should be hurting a lot, what with all that screaming."  I
gathered her into my arms and kissed her.

"I do feel good, very good.  I've never felt anything like that before!"

She lay against me for several minutes as I stroked and kissed her.  I
whispered words of praise into her ear.

She asked, "Can something like that happen to you if I rub you?"

"Yes, Daisy, if you grip my cock and stroke it, something like that
will happen to me.  If I put mine in you, it should happen to both of
us."

"Is there a way to pretend to put you inside, to do it like that, but not
be inside me?  We're only pretending to be married, can we pretend to --
you know?  I don't know what to call it."

"It's called making love, Daisy.  It's called cruder things too, you
don't need such words, yet.  I believe I know a way that might do.  I
know it will work for me, I don't know if it will for you."

"What would we do?"

"Rub my sex against yours, outside of you, between your legs."

"Alright, Let's try that!  Show me how."  She looked eager.

I had her climb onto my belly.  When she was in place I moved her down,
against my cock, until I was pressed as hard against her as I could stand.
My thighs trapped hers closed around me.  I moved as if within her.  It
took only a few strokes for her to get the idea and move against me.  Soon
we were both clearly on our way to climax.  I was afraid I might cum
first and leave her hanging.  As it happened, Daisy had her climax first,
not as dramatic as the first one, and I came during that.

When we both finished I held her as before, speaking words of love.  I
had never felt so much love for anyone before this.  How could I feel
this forbidden love for a child?  I knew it was not right, but I could not
change it, could not deny it.

"Hold me, Uncle Al.  Don't let go, please, don't let go."

I held her until she was asleep.  Gently I laid her beside me, covered us,
and joined her in sleep.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Taken from the 'Confessions of Brother Dunstan' a manuscript found in the
ruins of St. Steven's, Covington, Kentucky after the flood of 1921.

Continued in Part 2.

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