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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of o
o stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the o
o world. Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no o
o particular order other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o I don't believe in categorizing things. "I don't want to o
o be typed therefore I don't type things myself." I think it's o
o a lot more fun to browse around and find 'little' surprises o
o that you might not have even thought of looking for. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult en- o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors. o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
The Scheme (mc, MF, Mf, inc, ped)
by xpost@hotmail.com
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Please don't read this story if you're under 18, 21 or the applicable
age in your part of the world. Thanks.
Any comments would be appreciated, and positive feedback would provide
incentive to continue writing.
Thank you, to everyone who sent feedback (99% positive, happily) on
"Slut-Maker." It's nice to know one's work is appreciated!
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I know Jack is up to something, and I'm not happy about it.
He's a schemer, and I suspect this scheme has something to do with our
daughter, Tracey - something illegal and immoral and perverse.
Tracey is turning 13 in two weeks. That's a clue in and of itself.
Jack's told me for years that a girl is at her ripest, her most perfect,
at age 13. "You need to pop her cherry then," he's said, "when she's
right at the edge of innocence, so she learns how to fuck, how to really
get into it."
He's said, too, "I'm going to break our baby in, Karen. I'm going to
make sure she turns out a perfect little slut. That sweet little body is
made for all sorts of sex."
Usually he says this sort of thing while we're fucking. I admit,
whenever he says it, I start coming about four seconds later. And it's
always an insanely intense orgasm. Like for the last couple months,
we've done it doggie-style nearly every time, and after a while, Jack'll
start spanking my ass - lightly at first, then progressively harder -
and he'll bend down and whisper in my ear:
"Our little girl's birthday is coming up, Karen. She's getting riper
every day. I'm going to give her a great big birthday present. You've
got her birthday present stuffed in your pussy right now. Do you like
that present? It's going to push those baby pussylips wide open. Those
*wet* baby pussylips. And Tracey is going to moan and squeal, and I'm
going to squirt her cunt full of cum. Her birthday cunt. Her brand new,
ready-for-all-sorts-of-fun, sticky birthday cunt. And she's going to be
our beautiful birthday slut."
I'm always a little scared when he starts the spanking, because I know
the whispering is coming next. I don't stop it or do anything though,
because I like the fucking too much. And as soon as Jack starts talking
- as soon as he mentions Tracey - my cunt gets ten times wetter. I'm
reduced to moaning and shaking my head "no," and then pressing my face
into the pillow and biting down so Tracey can't hear me scream so loud
when I come.
When I calm down, I always feel ashamed. You can't imagine how ashamed I
feel. Sometimes I'll cry for several seconds into the pillow, and then
Jack will nudge me, rub my back or something; and I'll turn to look at
him and see him smiling at me, like he knows he's in total control; and
I'll see his cock, slippery with my fuckstuff and a little bit of his
come dangling from the tip; and I'll know he's right, he is in control,
because even with all the guilt and shame and coming down just moment
before from a mammoth orgasm, I still worship that cock and what it does
to me.
That feeling does wear off, though, when the cock isn't right in front
of me. And so, since I've known Jack's plans for years (since Tracey was
about eight, actually), I've drilled it into her head that she must tell
me immediately if anyone tries to touch her in her private places. Even
a relative.
I've never come out and said anything about her dad to her, but Tracey's
a smart girl, and in the last year or so, I think she's started to
understand what I really mean. She loves her dad, but I think she knows
he's not the nicest guy. As I said, he's a schemer - which is why he's
such a successful businessman - and it shows. You know, when you're
talking to Jack, that he'd con you out of something or talk you into
something just to prove he could. It's sort of explains our marriage: I
know he's a bit of a slimeball - I always have - but he manages to
convince me again and again that I'm better off with him than without.
Nevertheless, I've promised myself, ever since he started mentioning it,
that he wouldn't touch Tracey. To be honest, it's become almost an
obsession, a self-imposed geas of sorts. Especially since Tracey turned
12, I've worried constantly; I've even had nightmares about coming home
to find Jack fucking our daughter - even worse, I usually wake up wet as
a puddle from these dreams.
I'm better off than I might have been, though, I'm sure. A couple of
months after Tracey's last birthday, I was really starting to go crazy
over this situation. I don't work much - like I said, Jack's an amazing
salesman, so our income is fine - so I had plenty of time to think about
Jack and Tracey, Jack and Tracey...
I became very tense, and it showed. Tracey knew something was wrong, but
she didn't have any idea what it was. Jack must have suspected; he asked
me what was the matter in the middle of a particularly wet and nasty
fuck session. He pulled his cock out of my pussy, put it in front of my
face and told me I could put it in my mouth if I answered him.
As I said, that dick is irresistible to me. I spilled my worries to him,
panting, begging him to let me taste it.
He did. While I sucked him, he said, "So you're all worked up because
Tracey's getting that great big birthday present in less than a year?
Does that get you too hot to think straight? Do you collapse on the
couch and jam a finger in that slick little pussy and fuck yourself with
it while you think about it? Do you like having that dick in your mouth
after it's been in your creamy pussy-hole? In a year, you might be
sucking creamy, dreamy little Tracey's juice off that dick..."
He fucked me that night. I came hard; and I cried hard. I don't think
Jack was really concerned for me, but he didn't want Tracey to worry,
and he was tired of my nervousness himself, so the next day, he
suggested I start seeing a therapist he knew a couple of times a week.
I was surprised, but relieved too. It sounded good, the idea that maybe
I could talk to someone about this. I asked him if he didn't feel
uncomfortable knowing I'd be discussing his plans for Tracey with a
friend of his.
He just smiled and said, "It's all confidential. He can't say anything
to anyone."
So I started seeing Dr. Holms twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays, from
4 to 6. He was very sympathetic, very understanding and very
professional. And Jack was right: The doctor wouldn't breathe a word to
anyone. He had too strong a sense of ethics. It almost made me mad. I
mean, my daughter was going to get fucked by her father on her 13th
birthday, and I knew I couldn't do anything to stop it, and I'd told the
doctor so; and he wouldn't take it upon himself to do anything to keep
it from happening. He wouldn't even discuss the subject with Jack if he
happened to see him - he said, despite Jack's involvement, I was his
patient, and he couldn't discuss my case with anyone else.
I voiced my concern - my anger - to Dr. Holms, and he said he could do
*something* to appease me. He suggested, about a month and a half after
I'd started seeing him, that Tracey attend an afterschool group every
day for gifted youngsters. The group was run by one of his colleagues,
Dr. Larrimore. Dr. Holms suggested that spending a couple of hours every
day with other intelligent children might boost her self-esteem so that
she could resist any attempt by Jack to sneak into her pants.
It sounded good to me. In any case, I didn't think it could hurt. So,
Tracey's been going to see Dr. Larrimore every weekday, even now that
it's summer; and I've been seeing Dr. Holms for almost a year now. And,
as I said, I'm sure I'm much better off than I'd have been if I hadn't
ever gone for help.
I'm also very confident that Jack's not going to get to Tracey. Not on
her 13th birthday, not ever. We've had plenty of open discussions about
sex lately, and Tracey says she's not having sex til she's married.
She's very firm about that. That might change, of course, but as long as
she sticks to it til she's old enough to fend for herself, I'll be
happy. And she *knows* that if anyone touches her - a stranger, a
relative, a boy at school - she needs to make them stop and tell me
right away.
So I feel better. Jack knows how Tracey feels too. He keeps spanking and
whispering while we fuck, though, like he still thinks it's going to
happen. It scares me, but I calm down much more than I used to. I really
don't think he'd try to rape Tracey - it's not his style, not at all -
so I figure he's just maintaining the fantasy, getting off on how I,
like a whore, get off on it.
I'm a little concerned, though. As I said, I think he's up to something.
I can usually sense that. And he is a schemer.
* * *
It's Tracey's 13th birthday. It's 6:30 p.m., a Tuesday. I've just walked
in the door, just got home from my session with Dr. Holms. I need to get
ready - Jack said he'd be home by 7, and we're taking Tracey out for
dinner.
I head upstairs and for the bathroom, to check my hair and makeup. I
stop outside the bathroom door, though. I hear noises coming from our
bedroom.
My heart is beating hard and fast, and it seems like it takes forever to
get to the end of the hall. The noises are becoming clearer: heavy
breathing, and Tracey's voice sighing, "Yes, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy..."
The bedroom door is open. Jack is on our bed. He's naked, sitting mostly
upright against a pillow against the headboard. His cock is erect,
curving straight up, and Tracey - who is naked too, except for a lacy
bra, which is only half on, and knee-high socks - is facing Jack and
sliding up and down on it, like it's a big, slippery pogo stick.
I stand in the doorway in shock. I'm too shocked even to cry. I want to
speak, but I can't. I just stand there.
Jack looks at me and smiles, that same smile, the one of total control.
"Karen," he says, "you're home. You want to wish our little girl Happy
Birthday?"
Tracey turns her head to look at me without changing her slow, easy
fuck-rhythm: up and down, up and down... She's smiling dreamily. Her
hair is in pigtails, and it makes her look even younger. "Hi, Mom," she
says, and turns back to her father.
"This birthday pussy is as tight as I thought it'd be," Jack says, still
grinning. "It's tasty, too."
"How?..." I finally manage to stammer. "Tracey, no..."
"Honey," Jack says patronizingly, "this is what Tracey wants to do. It
doesn't matter how many times you told her not to let me do this. I had
her taken care of. See?" He looks her straight in the eye. "Tracey," he
says, "turn all the way off for Daddy."
It looks like an electric shock courses through Tracey. She sits
straight up. "Daddy!" she says. "No! No, Daddy! We can't do this!" She
tries to push herself off him, tries to lift herself off his dick.
He puts his hands on her shoulders and holds her firmly. "Tracey," he
says, "turn on for Daddy."
In an instant, Tracey is relaxed. She's more than relaxed - she begins
fucking him contentedly again.
Jack smiles at me. I'm just standing in the doorway, gaping. He looks at
Tracey again. "Tracey-baby," he says, "let's put on a show for Mom. Turn
into a real slut for Daddy."
Tracey starts fucking Jack twice as fast. Her cunt bounces up and down
on his cock. "Daddy," she breathes, "fuck my little pussy. Make your
little girl come. I need a birthday come, Daddy. My great big birthday
present feels so good. I wanna get it greasy-wet when I come on it..."
She continues to murmur nasty words to her father while I watch in
silence. She turns to me.
"Mommy, when Daddy sticks all his gooey cum up in me - it's a good thing
he got fixed, 'cause I want that gooey cum - are you gonna lick it out?
Are you gonna suck on the birthday pussy, Mommy?"
Now I am just about ready to cry, mostly because, in spite of how
shocked and angry I am, hearing my little girl say that has made my
pussy moist. I'm about to speak...
"Tracey," Jack says, breathing hard, "go back to normal level for me,
baby. I can't come in your pussy til Mommy decides whether she's going
to clean it up or not." Tracey resumes fucking her daddy more slowly and
quietly.
Words form in my mouth. "How did you do this?" I ask, horrified - but
perversely intrigued.
Jack is still smiling. "Simple hypnotic conditioning. Some intense
subliminals. Things like that. Dr. Larrimore is awfully effective.
Didn't you know that's his specialty?"
I swoon a little. Tears are forming. To learn that I put my daughter in
the hands of the man who made this possible - it's too much...
And it almost certainly means that...
Jack's smile becomes even broader as he sees the thought forming in my
confused mind. "By the way," he says, "you look great."
I look across the room at the mirror on our dresser.
I gasp. I'm wearing a dress I've never seen before. It's pink and lacy,
and it looks like something a girl Tracey's age - not a 36-year-old
woman - might wear to church. I have knee-high socks on. My hair is in
pigtails.
I look back at Jack, terrified, although I'm becoming wetter every
second.
Jack just shrugs and grunts a little as our daughter grinds her pussy
onto his dick.
"I figured, I'm going to have one little girl sexpot, why not have two?
It makes everything easier. And Dr. Holms is just as qualified as
Larrimore. I believe they actually studied together."
I make a noise like a sigh of despair, of desperation; I try to shake my
head "no."
"Karen, honey," Jack says, grunting, and I know he's coming in our
daughter Tracey's tight pussy; and I know I *will* be volunteering -
happily, lustfully, even - for cleanup duty momentarily...
"Turn on for Daddy."
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xpost@hotmail.com
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