"ELECTRA MAGAZINE"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Published Monthly
through the Internet
August 1996
NOT TO BE READ BY ANY PERSON UNDER THE AGE OF 18
Merrill, Castle and Gray (UK)
e-mail: `mag-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'
MERRILL, CASTLE & GRAY (uk)
Adult Books On The Internet
A non-profit making organisation. Subscriptions and
purchases only finance and maintain our FREE and ever
increasing archive.
Completely free and currently containing some 7000
stories, the general section of our Archive aims to
gather together the best of erotic material available.
Through "ELECTRA MAGAZINE", supporting the Archive NOW
can only be to the benefit of its Subscribers in the
future!
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
EDITORIAL
THE ARCHIVE
~~~~~~~~~~~
IN introducing Issue Six of `Electra Magazine', news
of the Archive is good. Collation and cataloguing is a
full-time operation, but it is hoped necessary work will
be completed to permit a partial-opening during August.
All requiring time and effort, in each archive acquired,
many stories are replicated, many exist only in part and
most have to be re-set to our standard format.
Frequently, to make it readable, an unreadable story
with a good story-line has to be re-written. Of one
recently submitted archive with a library containing 500
stories, only approx. 100 were either new to us or fit
to be re-published.
ACCESS by the general reading-public to the archive
will be via normal `list-serving' techniques, and as
time progresses, availability of those stories available
to subscribers will increase.
FOLLOWING negotiations, MCG have successfully obtained
sole publishing rights for such stories as `A Matter Of
Perspective', `Mending The Tear', and `Etienne 2' and
after the very popular reception of Part One, we hope to
soon be able to present Part Two of `Electra And Her
Daughters', more true-accounts of incestuous liaisons
started by women. Prior to being released to
newsgroups, these will be appearing in `Electra
Magazine' in the next few months.
THE MCCOY SECTION
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To help the Archive, regular-poster and writer of many
distinctive incest-related stories, Frank McCoy has
donated his complete Library. When open, all freely
available to newsgroup readers, amongst many others, it
includes such titles as:
`Rats'
`Pedophile`
and
`But Mom!'
ARCHIVE SUBMISSION
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SHOULD any Author wish their work to be placed in the
Archive, forward details to:
`arch-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'.
COPYRIGHT AND RECEIPT WILL BE ACKNOWLEDGED.
Remember, if a story is published in `Electra Magazine',
always retaining the copyright, the Author receives a
properly-audited ROYALTY payment.
Occasional stories, large or small, defunct or unused
Archives are always welcome.
Subscriptions and proceeds only go to gather and
maintain the archive.
"ELECTRA AND HER DAUGHTERS"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As regular readers know, "Electra" is a term used
in psychiatry. The reverse of "Oedipus" who wished to
marry his mother, "Electra" was desirous of sexual
intercourse with her father. In letters to the
Authors, one herself an `Electra', women describe the
circumstances surrounding their decision to instigate
incestual contact.
This is the true story of:
Virginia: "Her name is Virginia, `Virgin' for
~~~~~~~~ short..."
Dear Dr. Woods:
A couple of months from now, I will be 25 years old,
and for the past 18 months, have been living in a
husband-wife relationship with my brother.
Rick is two years younger than me. My first sexual
contact with him was four months before that, and
happened as a result of me being in an extremely
traumatic situation.
I married when I was twenty, when my husband, Elmer,
was starting his career as a teacher. Naturally, we
didn't want children right away, so I was on the `pill.'
Life was just fantastic, and I thought our happiness
would go on forever.
One Friday, not long after our second wedding
anniversary, Elmer came home early from school.
Feeling very ill, he felt pretty sure a week-end of rest
would fix him up just fine, but it didn't. He felt worse
on Monday and I insisted on calling the doctor who said
he was not sure what was wrong with Elmer and a few days
later, we went into the city to see a specialist. When
he'd finished running a bunch of tests, the specialist
got us both in his office and told us Elmer would have
to go into the hospital for exploratory surgery. Saying
he thought he was feeling better and that he really
needed to get back to his teaching, Elmer protested but
the doctor looked at both of us pretty grimly and said,
"No, Elmer. This could be serious." Surgery! Hearing
him say that, I nearly died and grabbed Elmer and hugged
him to me.
For the next several days, while we were waiting for
the operation to be scheduled, I just went around in
kind of a numb daze. How could this be happening to us?
When I should have been the one cheering him up, telling
me everything was going to be all right, poor Elmer
tried to cheer me up!
Elmer's father is his only living relative, a poor,
very sick old man who lives a couple of thousand miles
from where we live. I called him but of course he
couldn't come.
My mother and father are both dead and my only
relative is my younger brother, Rick, who lived in a
smaller city just under a hundred miles from here.
Asking him if he could be with me while Elmer was in the
operating room, he got emergency leave and got to the
hospital about fifteen minutes before they rolled Elmer
into the operating room. As he was going past on the
gurney, Elmer took Rick's hand and said, "Look after her
for me," and Rick assured him he would.
Rick and I sat in the waiting room, sometimes just
holding hands and sometimes getting up and pacing the
floor. We both expected to have a pretty long wait, so I
was surprised - and very hopeful - when the operating
surgeon came out sooner than expected. Pulling his
mask down, he walked up to me and said, "Mrs.-------,
I'm afraid I have bad news for you." My face must have
turned very pale, because Rick came quickly to my side
and put his arm around me to steady me.
"He's going to be all right, isn't he?" I finally
choked out.
Shaking his head sadly, the doctor put a hand on my
arm. "We've lost him."
The surgeon told me when they'd opened Elmer up,
they'd discovered he was eaten up with cancer. "Since
there was nothing we could do for him, we started
closing, and his heart just stopped. We tried, but we
couldn't get it to start again."
Reeling back against Rick, he held me up with both
arms. The doctor told is if Elmer had survived the
operation, he would have had perhaps a month or two to
live and in constant, unbearable pain. "Believe me,
Mrs.------," he said, "Elmer is better off not having to
go through that, and though I know how hard it is to
believe such a thing right now, so are you."
After thanking the Doctor, holding me tight against
his side so I wouldn't fall kicking and screaming to the
floor, Rick led me out of the hospital.
When we got home, not knowing what to do, I walked
dazedly through the house. I was not even 23 years old -
and already a widow! Rick fixed us lunch and made me sit
down at the table, but I just picked at my food.
Rick called the hospital and the mortuary, and the
Principal at Elmer's school, telling him what had
happened. Later in the afternoon, he sat and talked to
me. I cried a lot, and he did his best to comfort me.
Finally he fixed us some supper. I ate a little of that,
and afterwards, showed Rick the bedroom where he could
sleep. Then, I went to mine and Elmer's bedroom,
undressed, and climbed in bed.
I laid there, not tossing and turning like you hear of
people doing. I didn't have the energy for it. I just
laid there and stared at the ceiling. I felt so alone!
It was still before midnight when, in desperation, I
called out to Rick. In only a moment, he was coming
through my door. He hadn't even taken time to dress and
was just wearing boxer shorts.
"Ginny," he said, "are you all right?"
I was crying and I shook my head. "Please lie down
with me, Rick," I begged him. He hesitated for just a
second, then crawled in bed by my side and pulled the
covers up over us. I put my head on his shoulder and
sobbed for a while, and then I rolled away from him.
"Please hug my back," I asked him, and he took me in his
arms in a `spoon hug'.
I don't know how long we laid like that, but after a
little while, I felt Rick's penis start getting hard
against my bottom. He moved back, but it was like his
cock had pressed a `start button' in me!
I don't understand the psychology of what I did and
I'm not sure I want to, but I moved back a little bit so
that my buttock touched Rick's erection again - and it
was very hard. He jumped at the contact, and all of a
sudden, throwing my uppermost leg across his hips and
worming my lower one under him, I found myself rolling
over to face him. Pressing my groin to that hard thing
between my brother's legs, my arms were around him and I
was pulling him to me as hard as I could.
Rick groaned and tried to push away from me, but
wildly humping against his middle, I had an arm and leg
lock around him. I was still crying, but had managed to
get my night-gown up around my waist and when I finally
got his penis out of his shorts and the head of it
against the entrance to my vagina, I jammed forward with
my bottom and it sank all the way into me. For a minute
or so, he laid still while I moved my vagina up and down
on him, and then rolling over on top of me, began
pounding it into me.
I was like a wild woman! I hunched up against his cock
as hard as I could, and he stabbed it into me like he
was trying to drive it right through my body. When I
came, I remember thinking that I hoped the neighbours
would just think it was a `widow's wail' and screamed at
the top of my voice. And grunting and grinding himself
against me, Rick came at the same instant. When I felt
his cum shooting into me, I clutched him tightly and
felt his body straining to me. Then he collapsed on
top of me.
Almost immediately, he tried to roll away from me, but
I locked my legs around his hips and my arms around his
shoulders. I was crying again as inside me, I felt his
penis beginning to soften, and I started slowly grinding
my bottom in small circles until I felt it grow again.
Rick raised his head and looked into my face for just a
moment. I closed my eyes, and he laid back flat on me
and let me work my vagina on him until he was hard.
Then we went at it a second time like a couple of
rabbits. Rick plunged, and I was jerking up against him,
almost like we were trying to hurt each other until we
brought each other to a second orgasm.
Like I said, I don't understand why I was doing what I
was doing with my brother, but it was like I thought if
I let Rick take his penis out of my vagina, I would die,
too. Even after coming a second time, I held him
between my legs and wouldn't let him pull out. I knew I
had strong muscles around my cunt, Elmer had teased me
many times about trying to bite his cock off with my
pussy, and now I put them to good use, squeezing my
brother's limp penis. He was breathing hard, but it
wasn't too long before I felt him stir inside me again,
and we went at it a third time.
When we came that time - it took Rick longer, which
isn't very surprising - my orgasm was so strong that it
felt like he was tearing my guts out, and then I
fainted.
Next morning, neither of us said a word about what had
gone on the night before, it was just as if it had never
happened. We called the funeral home and Rick and I
picked out a casket, then I called Elmer's father and
told him what had happened. He cried a little over the
phone, but finally said he was too sick and didn't have
enough money to buy a ticket to come to the funeral. So,
the funeral would be a few neighbours, whatever friends
Elmer had had at school and Rick and me.
By the middle of the afternoon, everything had been
arranged for the funeral the next day. I wanted to get
it over as quickly as possible. We had phone calls from
other teachers and a few students, and then things sort
of came to a standstill. Drained from the fits of crying
I'd had during the day, I told Rick I wanted to take a
nap.
I don't know how to explain this, but when I stood up
to go to my bedroom, I caught him by the hand and pulled
him with me, and when we were in my room, I grabbed the
buttons on his shirt and nearly tore them off. I was a
wild woman again, and I couldn't get his clothes off
fast enough! Rick stood there looking at me as if he
was patiently indulging a child and as soon as I had him
completely naked, I ripped off my own clothes and pulled
him to the bed. My legs wide-spread, I fell back on
it, and pulled him down on top of me. He was already
hard, and I couldn't wait to get his penis in me!
Again, we screwed like a couple of rabbits and when we
came, I locked my legs and arms around Rick like I'd
done the night before and wouldn't let him take it out.
I milked him with my cunt muscles until he was hard
again, and we did it a second time. When the spasms died
away in me, I felt him moving off. As I grabbed him
again with my arms and legs, he put his head down by
mine and said, "Sis, I just can't do it again. Please
let me up."
Deep in my mind, I knew I'd been using Rick and I
guess my conscience at wearing him out took over,
because I let him could roll off me. Instead of getting
up and going out of the room, he laid back beside me and
put his arm under my neck. I hugged him to me and had
another spell of crying, and then we both went to sleep.
The phone woke us as evening was coming on. Then there
were more phone calls from people who wanted to know the
funeral details. A little before midnight, I said I
thought it was time to go to bed, and Rick agreed.
Without either saying anything, we both went to my
bedroom and got ready for bed. I think he came with me
because he knew I could not stand being alone and I'm
sure he had no intention of instigating any more sex.
Our bodies not touching, we laid down together and
turned out the bedside lights. My eyes open, looking
toward the ceiling for a long time, I laid flat on my
back. Then it was almost as if the different parts of my
body had a mind of their own.
My left hand reached over and, finding Rick's penis,
pulled it out through the opening in his shorts. Like it
was drawn there by a magnet, my head went down to where
my hand was, and I sucked him into my mouth. As his
body jerked and he gave a little groan, I couldn't tell
whether he was awake or not, but then felt his hand on
the back of my head as he pushed down with it gently to
get more of his cock into my mouth. For maybe a minute
or two, I sucked him until he got fully hard, and then,
pulling away from him, stripped off my night-gown.
Straddling his middle and sinking down on him until he
was all the way in, I moved my bottom up and down,
increasing my speed until finally stretching forward, I
pressed my breasts to his face. He took a nipple into
his mouth and sucked and I felt like my body was flying
apart. Grinding myself down on Rick's penis, his bottom
was hunching up, pushing it into me, and both of us
shaking like we were in an earthquake, we came together.
When it was over, I rolled off of him and laid with my
back to him. He put his arms around me and wet with
both of our juices, I could feel his limp cock lying in
my bottom crack. And then we slept.
Getting ready for the funeral service next morning, we
were very busy. There were more people there than I had
expected. I guess Elmer had more friends at school than
I realized, both teachers and students. They were all
very sad and very sympathetic, but the funny thing is -
well, it isn't funny at all, but I don't know what to
call it or how to explain it - whilst acknowledging all
the expressions of sympathy, Rick and I were both just
going through the motions. We smiled sadly and shook
hands with everybody, but casting furtive looks at each
other, we both knew we could hardly wait to get away
from there and go home and fuck!
And that is exactly what we did. Elmer's coffin had
hardly been lowered into the ground and people starting
to drift away when Rick and I made a dash to our car and
headed for home. We didn't even make it to the bedroom.
I think we were undoing our clothes before we even
reached the house. As we entered, I threw my panties
and bra on a chair in the living room, and Rick was down
to his shorts.
Grabbing me and sitting me down on the sofa, for the
first time, Rick took the initiative. Spreading my
legs, he knelt on the floor in front of me and the next
thing I knew, his mouth was on my pussy. Just to get it
hard like I'd done to Rick the night before, I'd sucked
Elmer's cock, but I don't think either of us ever
thought of him licking my pussy. I wondered why Rick was
doing that, since I didn't have to be gotten hard, and
then I felt his tongue on my clitoris and my bottom
nearly jumped off the sofa. Never in my life had I felt
anything like that, and I could no more control my
movements than I could fly! My buttocks lifted up to
push my pussy into my brother's face and I ground it
against him like a belly dancer. My hands pulling his
face into me and my bottom grinding against his tongue,
I came in almost no time, and then he pulled back and
smiled up at me.
Shuddering for just a moment, I jumped up and pulled
him with me into the bedroom. Rick's cock was standing
straight out in front of him and I could hardly wait to
feel it filling my vagina. He was so ready, it didn't
take many pumps of his stiff cock before he was huffing
and puffing and poking it to me with all his might. I
thought he might come ahead of me, but when I felt his
stuff shooting into the depths of my vagina, it set off
my own orgasm, and hugging each other tightly, we came
together.
For awhile, breathing heavily, we laid beside each
other, and then Rick got up on one elbow and looked down
at me. Giving me a small, kind of quizzical smile, he
whispered, "Why, Ginny?"
Of course, I knew what he was talking about, and
looked away in embarrassment. Finally, I said, "I don't
know, Rick. I just don't know." Then I looked him
straight in the eye and said, "I felt like I just had to
do it. I felt like I'd die of grief if I didn't have
it." Putting my hand on his naked shoulder, I said,
"I'm sorry, Rick. Please don't think badly of me. I just
had to do it!"
To my surprise, he smiled again and leaning down,
kissed me on the lips, the first time he'd done that.
"Ginny, I've been in love with you since I was twelve
years old."
Kind of like I didn't believe him, I guess, I looked
at him. He must have read my look because he said,
"Before that, you were pretty much of a pain in the ass,
I'll admit, but when you got to be fourteen, you all of
sudden kind of grew up." He told me I'd gotten pretty
and even started treating him nicer, and reminded me of
the time, after school one day when he was fourteen, he
showed up at home with a black eye and a cut over his
eyebrow.
Remembering, I said, "Yes, you said you were hit by a
swing while you were crossing the playground."
"Well, that wasn't what had happened," he said. What
happened was he'd seen me walking across the campus and
a couple of the older high school boys were watching me.
One of them said I was the prettiest girl in school, and
the other one said, "Yeah! Her name is Virginia, Virgin
for short, but not for long," and they'd both giggled.
[Having changed the respondent's name to protect her
identity, we also had to change the "joke." The
original remark which "Rick" overheard was considerably
cruder. F. vB.]
I laughed, and Rick said when he heard the boy say
that, he'd lit right into him. He didn't know Rick was
my brother, so he'd been taken by surprise when Rick
poked him in the belly. It hadn't hurt much, though, and
then he'd straightened up and given Rick the black eye.
I hugged him and said, "That was sweet, you standing
up for me like that."
"Well-l," Rick said, turning kind of red in the face,
"That was the first time I ever thought about you and
sex at the same time. I guess it made me realize that
someday you were going to let somebody fuck you, and I
was awfully jealous of whoever that might be."
"Oh, Rick!" I said, smiling at him.
Rick nodded his head several times and said when he'd
see me in my night-gown, or underwear after that - "You
know, you weren't as modest as you could have been
around a teenage boy, Sis," - thinking about how it
would be to do it to me, he'd go to his room and
masturbate, "I even thought about how wonderful it
would be if I could marry you, and it made me sad to
know I couldn't".
I looked at him in surprise, and he laid his head back
on the pillow. "And now I've really done it to you," he
finished.
"And how did you like it?" I whispered.
Rick turned his head to look into my eyes. "It was
about ten times as great as I thought it would be if I
ever got the chance to do it to you, which I was sure I
wouldn't."
A couple of days later, Rick had to go back to his
job, but since he wasn't terribly far away, promised to
come back on the week ends to help straighten out
Elmer's affairs. He did. And we slept together.
In those awful weeks before and after Elmer died, I
guess I was under so much stress that remembering to
take my pill every morning was the least of my worries.
Several week-ends later, I had to tell Rick I was
pregnant with his child.
I think life begins at conception and to me, having an
abortion would be the same thing as murder. Besides,
I'd just lost a husband and couldn't face losing a child
too, so when Rick asked if I was going to have one, I
told him `no'.
Rick pointed out I would need to think about moving
away from where we had lived It was too late for anyone
to believe the child was Elmer's, so people would know
I'd been sleeping with somebody. I knew he was right,
but had no idea where I could go.
A week later, Rick showed up for his week-end and told
me he had talked to his company about him transferring
to another city, far away from where we were. He asked
if I would go with him. I said, yes, I'd love to live in
the same city with him.
Rick said what he had in mind was something
different. "Will you make a dream come true for me?"
"What dream?" I asked him.
"The dream I used to have about how great it would be
if I could marry you," he said, smiling at me.
Saying we couldn't get married, I protested; we were
brother and sister. Rick said he knew that, but we
could live together and let people think we were
married. Legally, I could get my maiden name back
"Who'd know us having the same last name was not because
we were married?" he asked.
It was kind of a wild idea - but I told Rick I'd think
about it.
Elmer's insurance paid off the house we'd been buying,
so I put it on the market and, meanwhile, Rick got his
transfer. A couple of weeks later, I called him, telling
him I'd decided I would go along with him on the husband
and wife thing. If the father was present, it really
would be better for our child and having a `husband'
would save an awful lot of explanations. Rick was
elated!
About a month later, the house sold, he came to help
me move to the little house he'd rented in the suburbs
of our new home city.
There was a large vase filled with roses on a table in
the entry hall when we walked in the front door.
Grinning, Rick said they were for me, (he'd wired them
to a neighbour and gotten him to bring them over just
before we were scheduled to arrive). Looking at the
little card, the only thing written on it was "Song of
Solomon 4:9-11." I gave him a questioning look and,
still grinning like a kid with a delicious secret, he
picked up a Bible that was behind the vase and handed it
to me.
Bursting into tears, when I read the verses, I fell
into his arms. I can't even come close to describing the
love I felt flowing between us. (This letter is long
enough as it is, Dr. Woods, so I won't copy the verses
here; you can look them up if you want to know what they
say.)
[Author's Note: Of course we looked them up!
And, from the King James Version:
"Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my
bride; thou hast ravished my heart with one of
thine eyes, with one chain of thy necklace.
How fair is thy love, my sister, my bride!
how much better is thy love than wine! and the
smell of thine oils than all spices!
Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the
honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy
tongue; and the scent of thy garments is like
the smell of Lebanon." R.W.]
Crying and hugging him to me for some minutes, I told
Rick I didn't know he was a Bible scholar. He laughed,
telling me that ever since high school, when he had
something really preying on his mind, he's close his
eyes and let the Bible fall open by itself. Putting
his finger down on the page, reading what it was
pointing to, he'd done it when he'd got back home after
my telling him that I was pregnant. "I don't understand
what the Song of Solomon is all about," he said,
blushing, "but that sure looked like an omen to me. It's
what gave me the nerve to suggest this."
I have to admit that I was amazed!
With the foresight to adopt a middle name, I filed a
petition to get my maiden name restored to me. I chose
one that could be a surname so it would appear to be my
maiden name whenever I filled out any kind of papers.
With my blonde coloring and Rick's dark hair, no one
would ever guess we are brother and sister, so we don't
have any trouble being accepted as a married couple.
Our daughter is close to a year old now, and much to
the relief of both of us, she is a perfect baby! She is
the product of incest, so how could we know how she
would turn out? But there certainly is nothing
physically wrong with her, and the paediatrician says
she's smart as a whip, so I guess no harm done!
I guess you'd have to say that there was a lot of
traumatic stuff involved here, Dr. Woods, but living
with my brother as his wife and having sex with him is
not part of it.
We love each other very much. I don't know where Rick
learned all the stuff he knows about sex, but I'm sure
glad he did. I really do wish Elmer hadn't died, but I
admit that if I was still married to him we'd always do
it the same old way, with him on top and his penis in my
vagina.
But Rick and I really let ourselves go and do all
sorts of different things. No use tempting fate, you
know, so I am on the pill now, and will stay on it.
I'm taking some courses in college in preparation for
becoming a teacher - as good as Elmer was, I hope!
By the way, not long ago I read about how some people
- men and women both - turn to sex when they are in a
grief situation. It told about one woman who got her
husband's brother into bed with her at about the same
point where I got Rick into bed with me, and another man
and his sixteen-year-old daughter consoled each other
with sex before the undertaker had even picked up their
wife's and mother's body from the bedroom where she'd
died in the same house.
So, maybe I'm not as weird as I thought I was!
[Author's Note: Virginia is right; it is not an
extremely uncommon occurrence for a newly-bereaved
person to seek consolation through sex, though usually
with a close friend rather than a family member.
However, it would appear from other responses received
that death of a husband/father can be the impetus -
perhaps even an understandable one - for mother-son
incest. But none have been included here because of
their lack of any corroboration from the son that the
incest was, indeed, non-traumatic. R.W.]
Sometimes, though, remembering Elmer laying on that
gurney, telling Rick to `look after me,' I think, "Oh,
Elmer! I know this is not what you meant, but I'm
happier than I thought I'd ever be again!"
Yours truly,
`Virginia'
From: "ELECTRA AND HER DAUGHTERS"
c: Drs. FvB and RW 1995 (US Edition)
Merrill Castle and Gray (This Edition)
All rights reserved
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
SPECIAL FEATURE: In September's edition, `Julia', the
incestuous sister from `Consequences' discusses her way-
of-life and answers queries. Your opportunity to
receive a reply to those questions concerning incest
you've only thought about. Submit the question you wish
answered to
`jul-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'.
If you have yet to read `Consequences!', chapter one
can be obtained from `CQ1-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
!!!!COMPETITION : COMPETITION: COMPETITION!!!
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
ARCHIVE NAME:
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Although an excellent name, excluding `The New
Louvre', or any derivation thereof, do you have a good
title for the Archive?
Some suggestions already received have been:
`The Vatican Library'
`The Parthenon',
`Library of Congress'
and the
`Alexandria Library'.
but apart from not wishing to upset the Pope, and with
the poetic talent often displayed by newsgroups posters,
we are looking for something a little subtle and easily
remembered.
In the meantime, M.C.G. have specifically reserved the
title `The Zoo' for that part of the Archive available
only to those smoking funny tobacco, the strong-hearted
or weak-headed. When ready, access instructions will
be sent to Magazine Subscribers.
FREE COPY
~~~~~~~~~
FOR the sake of sending an e-mail with your suggested
name, the mailer submitting the best title in our
estimation will WIN a FREE copy of the soon-to-be-
released revised and up-dated best-seller, `TOMORROW'S
FAMILY?'. Retailing at $30.00 (15 pounds sterling),
written by the family involved, it is the true account
of their conversion to incest as a way-of-life. The
competition is open to anyone over the age of 18 years.
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
!!!Story - Story - Story!!!
"TAKING THE BLAME"
A Sad Story
by Frank McCoy
I remember the first time I saw Jennie. My first
impression, was, "Oh what a shame!" The little 11-year-
old seemed so bright and cheerful that day, I almost
couldn't believe that she didn't even seem to know what
had been done to her.
Well, sadly that's my job. I'm a psychiatrist who
works for the city Human Services Department, and they
send me the abused little girls that seem to make up an
ever-growing number of our city's children. If you
looked, you could almost see the tiny little bulge in
the girl's tummy, that advertised the fact that she
would probably be a mother, before she was 12 years old.
The really sad thing was; Jennie didn't even seem to
realize what had been done to her.
I mean, she DID know that she was pregnant, it's just
that, at that time, the little girl seemed almost proud,
that she was carrying her own father's baby inside her,
instead of ashamed and frightened, like she should have
been. It was my duty to show her, so she could lead a
normal life, like I do.
I got into this job, because I know what it's like to
be raped by a relative, and it gives me insight that
other people don't have; especially men. Some people
think that a single woman like me isn't the best person
to be handling cases involving families, but I've been
able to counter that at least I'm a woman.
No man could possibly know what it's like to be raped.
Besides, could you imagine putting these little girls in
the hands of a MAN, after a thing like this? I try to
fix things up, but sometimes even I can't do much to
undo the damage.
It took me three days to win Jennie's confidence,
enough that she'd even talk to me. At first she was
suspicious of me, figuring I was just another or those
so-called court-appointed head-shrinks; trying to help
the prosecutor make a case against her father. I had to
reassure the little girl, that my duty was to her, not
to the state, and that anything she told me couldn't be
divulged. Not even to convict her father.
As I talked to her, she finally admitted to having sex
with her father. Not once, but many times. It had all
started, she told me, as she followed her big sister one
night; when she saw the older girl sneaking down to
their father's bedroom. She told me that once she saw
how much fun her older sister had with their father, she
insisted on doing the same thing herself. Later, when
her big sister got pregnant, she told me how she had
bugged her father, until she finally got him to do the
same thing to her.
Can you imagine the depravity of the man? Not only
does he fuck his own little girl; somehow convincing her
that she "enjoys" this atrocity, but he abuses her,
until she actually BEGS him to get her pregnant. That's
something like whipping a man, until he begs you to
shoot him. Something I think should be done to men like
the one who raped this cute little girl.
Of course, Jennie kept insisting it WASN'T rape, that
if anything, SHE raped HIM. God, that's even worse. Can
you imagine how much he must have abused the child, to
get her to think that having sex with him was a
pleasure? And worse yet, she didn't seem to think there
was anything wrong, with having her own father's baby.
In fact, she seemed quite proud of the fact, almost
flaunting her slightly bulging tummy, and saying how
much she was looking forward to holding the little boy
in her arms, and feeding him from her own body.
That a man would do this, to his own little girl, then
somehow force her into thinking she LIKED it, is beyond
me. For the first few days, hearing the little girl
chattering happily away, about how good it felt; how
much she liked the idea of being able to give her father
another child to love, and even how having sex with her
father had made both her and her big sister grow even
closer together, almost convinced me.
Then reality set in. I mean, a little girl starting to
have sex, at 10 years old? There's no WAY a child that
young could enjoy sex. I mean, a woman's body isn't
ready to have babies, until she's 14 or 15 (Jennie being
the rare exception.) If a girl that young is having sex
with her father, no matter how much she says she wants
it, it must because he's forced her. Probably in some
unspeakable manner as well.
In a case like Jennie, I figured that her father's
abuse must have been so bad, she was even repressing the
memory. This made me all the more determined to find out
just how bad his abuse had been; to make her think it
never happened. I mean ALL men abuse their children to
some extent. It's in the nature of being a man. It's
just that some men are worse than others; and her father
looked to be one of the worst.
It took many sessions, but I finally managed to get
Jennie to remember how her father had abused her. At
first, the little girl insisted that her father had
NEVER abused her, but after many sessions, I was able to
help her uncover the memories she had repressed so hard.
It makes me so mad; to see a little girl so abused, that
she can't even remember BEING abused. It was only when I
made her dig into her memories, pointing out each little
time her father had punished her, and showing her that
the times she thought he was showing his love, were just
a chance to feel her body, not genuine hugs of
affection. I mean, a man isn't supposed to hug his own
son; let alone his daughter.
I told Jennie, that she should have known that men
don't love the same way women do. Any man who pretends
to love you, is just dreaming of a way to get in your
pants. It's a shame, but true. I remember the first time
I found out about men. As I mentioned earlier, I was
raped by my uncle, when I was 12 years old. Just a
little older than Jennie here. No, he didn't hold a
knife to my throat. In fact, his approach was similar to
Jennie's father. He made me believe I wanted it. I was
just a little girl playing at being sexy, and he
encouraged me. In fact, the SOB actually made me feel I
wanted it. And you know that's not true. I mean, how can
a girl of 12, really want to have sex? Heck, I'm over 35
years old, and barely like it now.
Of course, the worst part, was when he got caught.
There I was that time, in his bedroom, sliding up and
down on his cock while John was lying on his back with
his eyes closed. He didn't even know my parents were
there, until Momma's screams about him raping me woke
the whole neighborhood.
Up until that time, I thought a man had to hold a
knife or gun to a woman, to rape her. Thankfully Momma
taught me different. Momma says I must have been in
incredible pain, as I was moaning and screaming and even
begging my uncle to cum in me.
Can you imagine how much pain I must have felt, to be
begging my own uncle to squirt his sperm inside me, just
to get it over with? It must have been unbelievably bad,
as my mind has blocked out almost everything.
Even now, after years of therapy, I still can't make
myself remember the pain. It must have been extremely
bad, as all I remember is the horrified look on my
mother's face, when she came into the room and found me
sliding up and down one last time, before her brother
filled my womb with incestuous cum. Years later, my
memories still almost trick me into thinking it felt
good.
For a while, I thought my mother was mad at ME. In
fact, it wasn't until she got me to press charges
against my uncle, that she let up on lecturing me about
the evils of sex, and especially with your own
relatives. After that, Momma would always make sure
everyone knew about how abused I was and how you had to
be careful around men. Indirectly, I think that my
uncle's raping me, led to my parent's divorce, as my
father was trying to make Momma stop protecting me all
the time, while Momma knew I had to be sheltered, and
taught never to let men touch me in any way. Thankfully,
Momma decided that I needed to be protected from men,
more than she needed a husband, so they broke up.
Can you imagine? My father actually thought I should
go to dances and parties, where men actually held the
girls in their arms, before I was eighteen. Momma
protected me from this kind of sexual abuse, until I
turned 21. Then, she told me that being of age, she
couldn't legally protect me any more, so she hoped I had
learned to do it myself.
I think I have. If it hadn't been for Momma, who knows
what might have happened? Momma taught me all about men,
and what they wanted. If it hadn't been for her, who
knows how I might have turned out? Thanks to my mother,
I'm the woman I am today.
Poor Jennie. It took so much longer than I originally
figured it would, to bring up the repressed memories of
abuse. At first, she kept insisting her father had NEVER
hurt her, and that you could hold a gun to his head, and
he still wouldn't hurt her. It's a shame to see a little
11-year-old girl brainwashed like that. It was only with
the help of hypnosis that I was finally able to bring
the full horror of her abuse to the surface.
For those of you not in the psychiatric field,
hypnosis is a very suggestible state, where the person
being hypnotized will do almost anything to please the
hypnotist. A person can be made to imagine they feel no
pain, even through having teeth pulled, or to see things
that aren't there, or to even forget things, if the
subject thinks that will please the hypnotist.
It can also be used as a tool to uncover repressed
memories. The subject can be asked to remember
something, and he or she will search their memory in a
manner not possible to a normal person. It was this
method, that finally gave me some success with Jennie.
At first, even under hypnosis, Jennie insisted that
her father had always loved her, and had never hurt her.
However, when I asked her to remember times when she at
least didn't get her way, she gradually remembered times
when he had sent her to bed hungry, then times when he
had spanked her. When I encouraged her, I was gradually
able to get her to remember worse and worse things he
had done to her, at my prompting.
After about 5 hypnosis sessions, Jennie finally broke
down. Now I finally had her remembering these horrible
things that her father had done to her. (Some of which
are just too horrible to tell here. It's absolutely
amazing, that the little girl wasn't scarred for life,
the things she told me her father did to her, with a
knife, cigarettes, and heavy leather belt. Surprisingly,
she had managed to escape with only one little scar,
that at first she had insisted she had gotten while
roller-skating. It was only under hypnosis, that I was
able to get her to remember how her father had beaten
her with the lamp-cord, and then only when I prompted
her.)
It was quite a relief to me, to see the little girl
finally admit to this abuse. After all, they say the
first step to recovery, is to admit you have a problem.
Now, Jennie finally had. Once she realized that her
father's love was all a sham, Jennie broke down. It was
at this point, that she tried to take both her own life
and the baby's, by sticking herself in the gut with a
sharpened coat-hanger. She only succeeded with the baby.
When I remember how much Jennie had told me she wanted
that baby, I almost cried. I guess the little girl is
better off without it though. I mean: can you imagine
having to spend your life caring for the baby of the man
who raped you? It still aches me a little bit, when I
remember how proud Jennie had been, when she first came
to see me, almost showing off the fact that she was big
enough to have her Daddy's baby. She had seemed so smug.
Now look at her. She'll probably never have normal sex
again, and almost certainly never have any children,
with the damage she did. And all because of her father.
After several years, I'm just beginning to get Jennie
to remember how much she hates her father. It's
surprising how much she had suppressed this. Even with
hypnosis, she's just beginning to remember. Up to now,
she's kept this hate hidden so deep inside her, that you
wouldn't even have suspected it, if you weren't a
professional like I am. Once I get Jennie to confront
the hate for her father, maybe she can finally start to
heal.
Jennie is slowly recovering from her trauma, and I
still see her every so often. Sadly, I was never able to
help her older sister, like I have Jennie. It was with
Karen's help, and even some from Jennie, that their
father's sentence was reduced from 20 years, to 2, of
which he only served 3 months. They both moved out of
state, and who knows what depravity the man does to the
girl? Karen was old enough at the time, that she refused
to let me help her, like I did her little sister.
Right now, I understand that Jennie is doing fairly
well, at the nursing home. She'll never be the young,
happy child again, that I had such a precious glimpse of
when I first saw her. Sadly, I understand that both her
father and her older sister blame ME for her condition
for some reason, instead of putting the blame where it
belongs, on her father. It's amazing how some people
will blame everybody but themselves, for the damage they
do.
THE END
~~~~~~~
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
!!!YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!
Very far removed from Incest, concerning one girl and
her horse, this story is entitled:
HORSEWASH
~~~~~~~~~
by Kaftka
Bright and blinding, the sun shone on the green
outside, but in the barn, it was cool and warm. From
the blur outside, each step echoing through the empty
building as the hollow floorboards resonated with the
heavy foot-falls of the fine animal, through the rough
grey door into the smell of fresh hay, she led the horse
in.
Lean and tan, her strong, muscular thighs showed well
under the tight denim cut-offs that hugged her firm ass.
Shining in the bright beams of light peering through the
cracks in the walls, each step in the hay kicked-up
thousands of tiny motes of dust as, barefoot, she
brought the hose from its place in the corner.
Scrubbing hard with a stuff brush against the soft and
wet hair, carefully working her way over the back of the
animal, her own back showed well beneath her tank-top,
lithe muscles rippling below the surface of tanned skin.
Firmly scrubbing against the tough skin below the wet
coat of fur, she brushed out the beautiful animal's
mane. Shining briefly in stripes of sunlight, wetting
her shirt and face, short sprays of water flew through
the air and red, pointed, tight nipples showing through
the wet tank- top. Tiny rivulets tricking over the
small swellings of her chest, her freckled face gleamed
with delight as she threw back her hair and laughed with
sheer happiness.
Scattering more tiny droplets across her face, tossing
back its mane, the horse stood still as bending down,
the slick wet hair clinging to its lean and muscular
body, she began to massage the chest of the fine animal.
Slowly working her way down the chest and belly, her
body shivered in anticipation as she ran her fingers
over the huge animal's penis. Fastened to the body with
a small fold of skin, the huge cock was clamped tight to
the chest and covered with a soft downy fur, almost
kitten-like in shape and size, its testes were already
large and tender. Delicately massaging them, under her
fingers, she felt them grow larger and firmer.
Sitting lotus-like on the ground beneath the massive
animal's belly, continually running her long, thin
fingers across its chest, the slick soap foamed and
dripped into her lap as artfully, each tickle making it
expand and swell, her skilful hands slowly teased the
length of the lightly-veined, fleshy phallus from its
sheath. Soon, fingers encircling its girth, its
strange weight in her hand, the engorged spear of flesh
was at full length.
Smoothly blunt-ended, as its dull-shining head
beckoned her, her heart skipped a beat. So large she
could barely fit the enormous glans into her wet-lipped
open mouth, as the animal's head tossed, relishing the
salty-tang, lubrication escaped from the jet-black
nozzle as she slid it across her tongue.
The snorting horse slowly bucked, sending tiny ripples
across the muscles of the back, the body tossing up into
the air; now, the cock was enormous.
Cupping the testes in her hand and holding them firmly
as the animal began to wriggle and buck, slowly, very
slowly, withdrawing her mouth, she ran her tongue over
the huge pipe, mouthing it, lovingly licking its length
as if cleansing something adorable.
Quiet and well-behaved now, the black horse waited.
Finally, she could stand it no longer. They both knew
what would come next.
Setting it down under the still-dripping chest,
withdrawing the small stool from the table nearby and
sliding out of the tiny shorts, placing her firm, white-
skinned buttocks upon it, her nipples rubbing the
animal's bristly-hair, she slid underneath him.
Cool water dripped unto the wet shirt she wore, her
small teats shining, the nipples ever visible through
the loose fabric. Tiny droplets slid from between her
waiting thighs and slid down her legs as between them,
the pink slit visible under the wispy dewy-blonde hairs
as she breathlessy spread her legs underneath the huge
wavering black cock, she slowly began to rub it against
her clitoris. One steadying hand against the shining
black flank of the animal, holding it to her soft
tissue, her other hand grasped the huge organ, and slow-
stretching inch by inch, forced it into her wet, waiting
slit.
Her face tight and drawn as she pressed her cheek
against the fur of the chest above her, taking many
tries to stretch them out enough so that they could
accept such a cargo, in time, her body had learned to
well handle what her mind desired, and now opening to
swallow the massive cock as it had done so many times
before, the muscles about the pink folds of skin
relaxed.
Stimulated by the warm, oily, still-slender tightness
of her vagina, trying to penetrate its enormous cock
into her, haunching in a slow and regular rhythm, the
huge body began to buck. Rearing-up, forcing her up
into the air as she clung with both hands for dear life,
the musky scent of her slender body mingling with the
sweet and pungent horse-smell that permeated every pore
of her body, her clit briskly rubbed against the wet
and sweaty fur.
Moaning and whimpering, feeling her body full and
complete with every movement, faster and faster, the
animal above rocked into her. Under no control of her
own, head rearing back, her screaming-mouth opened as
every muscle in her body tensed to breaking point, her
sheath expanding, to contract around the hot flesh over
and over and over again.
Lasting an eternity, giving herself to the rhythm, she
hung on until, rearing back for one final stroke, the
massive animal tossed its front legs into the air.
Sheer force of the powerful spray forcing it out of her
slit, the spurting cock squirted sticky white fluid
across her thighs and chest.
Sore in every muscle, sliding off the tiny stool to
lay in dry, sweet-smelling hay, the delicious flavour of
warm, satisfied lethargy slowly crept over her.
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
FROM THE POSTBAG
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taken from the Incest Help-Line post-bag this month is
the following interesting letter. Together with the
reply from the `Tomorrow's Family' team, it highlights a
not unusal problem, but a wife's unorthodox answer.
As with all names in `Electra Magazine', the letter
has been `anonymised'.
>From help-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk (Incest Help-Line)
Reply-To: help-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk
Message-Id: <10666@bartra.demon.co.uk>
Subject: Re: I'm pregnant, can my daughter stand in for me?
Lines: 56
Status: R
>
> Dear people
>
> I'm eight months pregnant and the pregnancy is a bit precarious so I
> won't be able to "service" my husband vaginally for at least three or
> four months. (two before the birth and two after). He doesn't find
> handplay satisfying.
>
> I have a lovely daughter by a previous marriage, she is 12 years 6 months
> old and very skinny, with long blonde hair and the most perfect deep blue
> eyes. I have asked her whether she would mind standing in for me two or
> three nights a week and satisfying my husband. She is a bit nervous but
> my husband seems keen. Do you think I should swap beds with her for a
> while and see how the two of them get on?
>
> Theresa
>
>
Viccy's Reply
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
hello
all we can tell u to do under these circumstances is to tread very, very
gently; it seems to us all u are likely to be doing this for the very
wrong reasons.
assuming something does happen; who is going to be happy afterwards?
u'll probably be filled with wall-to-wall guilt, so will your husband
and your daughter might just be very upset.
if she has any form of attraction towards him, then it might be a little
different! putting the age situation to one side - although it is a
big point - if this is foisted on her, prepare for upset!
the best thing u could all do is to sit and have a long talk about it.
if this proved to make anyone feel guilty, it is the proof u are looking
for that this is not a good scheme. on the other hand, if everyone
finds that they ARE happy to openly discuss it, even if nothing comes of it,
no damage will be done and some good will come from it even if only from
the deepening relationship which will come about.
tread very carefully, talk it out first and see who is happy and who isn't.
we also suggest u do not get caught as being the person to do all the
instigating; u'll be caught as piggy-in-the-middle; if everyone else
enjoys it, it will be on your conscience; if they do not like just the
idea of talking about it, it will be your fault.
come back to us if you need further help; we are in no position to
say whether u should or shouldn't, it's going to be what you make of
it and how u go about it that really counts.
love
viccy
--
Incest Help-Line
For Readers:
~~~~~~~~~~~
(The `Incest Help-Line' averages twenty enquiries a
week from people with problems in this difficult field
of human emotion and experience).
If any reader of "Electra Magazine" has any comment to
add to the above, please e-mail:
`help-mcg@@bartra.demon.co.uk'.
`Viccy', `Alex' and their family are always prepared
to discuss any aspect of incest, and/or sex in general.
Regular followers of the `Tomorrow's Family'
serialisation will be pleased to learn that the legal
difficulites which arose regarding publication of the
book have now been over-come and from next month,
ensuing chapters will regularly be published in `Electra
Magazine'.
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
AMBUSH
Author: Unkown
~~~~~~
You're in your bedroom, getting ready for bed. As you
climb between the cool sheets, I can tell what you're
thinking. I know exactly what you are thinking. You are
thinking of me. We've sent E-Mail back & forth before,
but we've never met...yet.
You can't see me but I am here. Waiting in the shadows
patiently. As you turn off the light, I watch you try to
go to sleep. My heart is pounding wildly against my thin
silk gown that flows over my nude form. I want you, I
mouth to myself, as I watch you drift almost to sleep. I
long for you, for your touch, for your kiss.
I make my move and go very slowly to your bed. You do
not notice me. : Your breathing is even and slow. I
nudge your bed gently, shaking it only enough to make
you turn over to gaze at me with half-aware eyes. My
hands move slowly over the roundness of my breasts, down
to my firm, smooth stomach, then I caress my hips and
thighs.
As you watch me, you wonder, but for a moment, how I
could have gotten in here, but you find you really don't
care. I crawl gently next to you on your bed. I rest my
fingers gently upon your lips, quelling any doubt, and I
gaze into your questioning eyes and you realize what I
want. :
I move my fingers from your lips slowly to your neck
and I bend to kiss you with my soft, full lips. Softly
and gently I give my tongue to your mouth as you enclose
me with your arms, and pull me towards you. I can feel
your wild heartbeats against my chest. I break the kiss
as to slide my lips down to your neck so that I may lick
and tug on the skin where I feel your rapid pulse. I
caress your chest with my soft fingers, and then I use
my nails to trace patterns from one nipple to your
other, making you sigh quietly.
I feel your cock stiffen against my thigh. I begin to
leave a wet path with my tongue down to your stomach, my
eyes slowly, steadily watching you watching me. I move
to kiss the insides of your thighs, your cock stands
directly in front of me, waiting for my mouth to attack
it. But I won't! I want you to feel everything. I want
you to feel every single thing that I'm doing to you. I
tongue your balls slowly and bring them very gently into
my mouth. The sensation wakes you up in a heartbeat,
meanwhile, I increase the intensity by breathing hot on
your tight balls.
Your wait is over, and your mouth gapes as I encase
your cock with my lips. I go all the way to the bottom
of your shaft, and move very, very slowly upward to the
very tip, and back down again. Your hands clutch the
sheets and beads of sweat fall from your forehead. You
close your eyes to intensify the pleasure.
Your move your hips up and down, in an unconscious
effort to drive your cock even further into my hot, wet
mouth. I know your game, and I know what you really
need. I go back to the tip, your swollen head, and lick
the hard vein underneath, and I flick it back and forth,
while you whisper, begging me to take you inside my
warm, wet mouth. I do so and swirl my tongue around your
delicious head. Then I put a firm clamp on you with my
lips and just move my head back and forth.
I increase my suction and you plead for release. No,
not yet, I want to drive you near insane. I push my head
down just a bit further so I can rub your sensitive head
against the roof of my mouth and push you deeper into my
mouth until you're just at the back of my throat.
In one swift motion, I have you deeply imbedded in my
mouth, and I swirl all around your hot, throbbing cock.
You've thrown your head back, and your moans of pleasure
are nothing compared to the waves of ecstacy that are in
my own body. I gently remove your cock from my mouth.
You lean up and see my eyes widen, as I notice that it's
just glistening with my saliva. You look as if you're
about to burst! I move on top of you, and kiss your
forhead, your eyes, your nose, your lips, and try to
draw blood out of your tongue. I know you want to come
and you shall, but not yet. You find my nipple close to
your mouth and you suck it between your teeth. Ooooh,
your mouth feels so good on me! Then you hold me tight
and run your fingers along my very wet slit, I'm in a
position where I couldn't move if I wanted to!
You start to tease me with your cock, putting it on my
clit, rubbing it back and forth. I beg you to put it
inside me, but you don't, you want me to beg you more,
you want me half-crazed from the pleasure I feel. I rub
my pussy against your cock, letting you feel my wetness,
and move back to try to lure into my hot, steamy, lust
filled slit. You push your hips up and I feel your the
head of your cock spreading me apart, and then entering
me.
My pussy contracts involuntarily as you move deeper
in, sending shivers down my spine. I cry out, your cock
feels so good sliding into me. As I feel you more and
more, deeper and deeper inside my pussy, nice and snug,
and I'm not about to let go.
I dig my fingernails deep into your chest and rotate
my hips, around & around & around, grinding slowly. My
mouth hangs open and I moan loud when you thrust deep
into me. We gaze into each other's eyes almost
hypnotically.
You become more aggressive, our juices and sweat
mingle. You pump me faster for a while, then we change
places and now I'll ride your hips for a while. The
rhythm comes back, and you roam my steamy body with your
hands. You squeeze my tits and pinch my nipples, while I
stroke my swollen clit. I suck on your cock with my
pussy, squeezing it, and pulling it as you buck wildly
under me.
I lean over, only for a moment, to whisper softly and
slowly in your ear, "Fuck me, lover, don't hold anything
back..." In a swift motion, you re-enter me after I turn
back over, I throw you an admiring look. I throw my legs
over your shoulders, and you ball me savagely. Ooooh, I
love the way you ravish me! We develop a rhythm and
grind together passionately. Deep within me, I feel you
swell even more than before!
I move my legs around your waist in an effort to pull
you closer and deeper. Time has little meaning, if any.
We gasp heavily, almost as if possessed. My utterances
aren't words, but sounds of ecstacy.
As I grind my cunt up into your groin, you bite my
neck. Your balls are burning with the desire to shoot
forth your delicious come. I can feel them slap against
me. I reach down and slide my fingers over your balls
and feel their smooth tightness. Your whole body
trembles, and you feel a tingling that is unmistakable.
My clit is burning and I beg you to go faster, faster,
faster, I scream. Oooooh! Yes, harder, ram your cock
into me, harder, faster! Slam it into me, tear me apart
with your beautiful cock! We sound like animals. Our
moans and gasps are louder as we lose control and head
for the silver rainbow.
I feel your cock twitching & jerking inside my cunt.
Our bodies shake and quiver and tremble and we lose
awareness of all else except each other and our
pleasure. Our voice becomes one great crescendo, our
bodies burst forth, I feel you come inside me and I
follow suit by bathing your groin with my nectar.
Our heads spin for a time, and finally, the last
moments of our climax draw to a close. We breathe
heavily, almost glowing, you move up to bury your tongue
in my mouth and I bring our hearts close together by
hugging you very tightly. Neither of us have looked
better, the eyes of one taking in the other to the
fullest. We sleep in each others' arms, content,
tranquil...
You stir, half-aware of my lips caressing yours, with
a look back, I gather up my gown. You rub your eyes to
clear them, and look around your room...but I have
returned to the darkness from whence I came.
THE END
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
"Electra Magazine" is always happy to hear from readers
on any subject at all.
Of what would you like to read? Can we improve on the
contents, lay-out and design of the Magazine?
e-mail: `com-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'
For all our publications: `list-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'
FRIENDS: Would any of your friends or associates like to
receive a FREE copy of the Magazine? Or if changing
your e-mail address, contact:
`dist-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
And now, the penultimate chapter of
"THE DOORS TO GAYLE'S FUTURE"
Chapter Seven
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes having to put our minds to remembering it,
Gayle and I were no longer father and daughter, we'd
transcended that. Somehow surpassing awareness of any
family tie, I never even regarded her as anyone I had
known longer than the last three of four years. In our
existence between home and hospital, we were simply us,
two entwined people who shared life, thoughts and love.
As a reversal, when out together, always calling me
by a pet or my Christian name and often causing us a
smile, it was only when alone together in intimate
moments was the word `Daddy' said or whispered. Within
the limits imposed by her physical frame, she did more
for me than I did for her and into the bargain, I came
out well, for I'd happily do everything for her.
It was only when other people were happy to talk of
her future that reality struck home, a bolt of fear
occasioning itself when her surgeon pronounced Gayle was
almost mended. For so long visualised as a blurry,
meaningless `one day', this day had sneaked up on me.
Unprepared for it, without reason to sense other
patients in the Ward were holding a secret, on bidding a
`good morning' to the Sister, I didn't detect a certain
sparkle in her eye. As I walked past her, in just her
normal voice, and starting to chat about normal every-
day things, she called me back Impatient to see Gayle,
I was about to take my leave of her and make my way to
Gayle's room when a soft voice gently called -
"Daddy."
and thunderstruck, jaw dropping in amazement, I spun
round.
No crutches, no walking-sticks, just resting on
the arm of a nurse, and silhouetted by sunlight behind
her, a few yards away stood Gayle. Dressed in a
diamond-patterned tan and green Raglan jumper and,
falling gracefully away over her hips, a tan skirt with
a broad brown belt, her brown hair swept up over her
forehead revealing her oval face with just a touch of
skin-tone lipstick. She looked beautiful but timidly
seeking approval, her brown-eyes looked at me.
Caught by surprise, moving habitually to support her,
the Ward Sister caught my arm as letting go of the
nurse, very slowly, but very steadily, Gayle started to
walk. Our eyes locked together; one step, two steps,
three steps and as I held my breath, every one of them
increased the tightness in my throat. Willing her
towards me, as Gayle approached, nothing else existed in
the world but the beats of my heart matching her, thump
for step.
With the slightest of limps but without so much as a
tiny falter, Gayle confidently closed the distance
between us, until standing only a few inches in front
of me, the breath burst from my aching lungs as hands
flared at her side, with a huge, happy smile over her
face, she presented herself.
"Well?"
Stupidly gazing at her for many misty moments, I
could eventually only think of one thing to say.
Swallowing hard and only able to whisper, I took her
hands in mine.
"Do you know, Gayle, you really are the most beautiful
girl. If I wasn't already so proud of you, I'd be
proud of you all over again."
Oblivious to others watching, throwing our arms round
each other, we were lost in a long, long hug. With
even the occasional cheer and much applause, an excited
hub-bub of conversation burst out amongst the people
watching us to drown my voice as I whispered, "I love
you very, very much."
"I know. I love you, too."
"I'm afraid she's been holding out on you," smiled the
Ward Sister. "Gayle took her first real unaided steps
some time ago, but swore everyone to secrecy. She
wanted it to be perfect when you saw her. She's
practised that walk every day for a month.
"Everyone's been marvellous", I said sincerely.
"Oh, yes", she agreed, "But Gayle had to make it
happen. Everyone could only help in their own funny
way. Some funnier than others," she added and I felt
myself flush as she gave me a direct, meaningful look.
We turned to watch Gayle walking along the long corridor
back to her side-ward.
"I never thought I would live to see the day that
happened," I said.
"Gayle's had some big secret incentive", Sister said.
"Two years ago, she confided to us that when she could
cross a room to you, something wonderful was to happen.
We've been wondering what it was." Hopefully, she
stared at me. "Now she's done it, what happens next?"
With a swimming head, I slowly sank onto a chair. I'd
completely forgotten the bargain I'd made with Gayle.
Able to walk, a promised door was supposed to open, but
to maintain the integrity of Gayle's future life, this
was one I had to keep a shoulder firmly wedged against.
With a sinking feeling, my heart sank.
Short-term reprieve came in the shape of my mother.
Leaving the hospital for the last time a few weeks
later, Gayle's surgeon came to see her off. Shaking
hands with me, an old-fashioned gentleman, as he peered
over his spectacles, he'd said, "I'm most terribly sorry
I never believed you. But as I recall, some six years
ago, I did mention miracles could happen." Somewhere
within me, a male voice said `hmpff', but once he'd
become convinced, aware of the efforts the surgeon had
put into to help Gayle, I grinned at him. Turning to
her, he said, "Well, I suppose I owe you a game of
tennis. You've beaten everything else, so I have
little doubt you're going to beat me."
On the journey home, looking around her with a
contented little smile, Gayle was very quiet but to her
surprise, as we'd walked up the garden path, the front-
door opened and there, come to stay for two months, was
my mother, "...just for company until you are used to
getting around". Suspicious, Gayle looked at me, but
said nothing, for which I was grateful; it had needed
much persuasion to get my widowed mother to agree.
Busily completing a long-ago day-dream, for days
ensuring her grand-mother was never out-of-earshot and
consequently, we were never alone, blaming the presence
of Grandma, I kept myself at arms-length from Gayle.
Often, a hopeful or romantic expression on her face, I
found her looking at me, but sure I was doing the right
thing, apart from normal father/daughter morning and
evening kisses, I avoided all physical contact.
Apart from regular check-ups, clear of hospital
visits, Gayle still continued with daily exercises, and
even before five weeks had passed from the day I'd first
seen her walk, her limp all but disappeared, she began
to participate in all the normal physical activities of
an 18 year-old girl. Many celebratory parties were
held for her, our local newspaper featured her story,
and tipped-off by the Hospital Friends, she was
interviewed for local radio. Having previously passed
a driving test in a disability-adapted car, it was short
work to convert ours back to normal operation, and being
able to travel around, all-in-all, she became quite the
local celebrity, as well as being only too happy to help
the Hospital at any time, called upon to open Church
Bazaars and the like.
Although I watched her carefully, with no signs of
strain or tiredness, Gayle took everything in her
stride. Why did I expect anything less?
** * **
Without warning or discussion, three weeks after
Gayle's discharge from hospital, leaving the following
morning, I told them both I was going away, alone.
Mother said, "You deserve it, dear", but the look of
hurt surprise in Gayle's eyes stayed on my conscience
for a long while. For the first time in some six
years, she and I were going to be parted overnight, and
deliberately avoiding any opportunity for conversation,
before anyone rose the following morning, I'd left the
house. Everything was going to be difficult enough
without courting drama.
Very pleased with myself, three days later, I'd
returned. Gayle's happy, warm kiss of greeting did
nothing to ease my guilt, but uneasy of opening
unnecessary doors, whilst returning it, kept it purely a
`Daddy' kiss.
Mother was completely in the picture, and when I
suggested taking a Sunday afternoon drive that week-end,
she was so enthusiastic that a still confused Gayle
became caught up in it and for a time, we functioned as
a normal happy family. But, aware of what was at
journey's end, refraining from catching Gayle's eye in
the rear-view mirror as, unusually and another piece of
my engineering, she sat in the rear of the car, as the
miles ticked by, inside, I became more and more morose.
Since first visiting a particular coastal county as a
child, Gayle had often expressed a wish to live there
when she grew older. Some hours later, just outside a
country village which was a particular favourite of
hers, I pulled up the car in front of a newly-built
little house.
Constructed of stone with smart grey and white
woodwork, the afternoon sunlight reflecting from old-
style, mullioned-windows gave the house a homely yet
neat appearance, and watching Gayle's face, I knew at
once she liked what she saw. Old trees had been left
in the gardens, and from the top of a nearby cliff, the
sea stretched away to the horizon.
Mother and I keeping perfectly silent, after a few
minutes, Gayle asked, "Who lives here, then?"
"You. If you want, that is."
Delighted, Gayle squealed. "Daddy! How? Whose is
it?" Scrambling from the car, laughing happily, she
stood in front of the house. Helping a smiling Mother
out of her seat, glancing at Gayle, she whispered "This
might just work."
Supporting her arm as we walked across to where, hands
on hips, Gayle was admiring the view, crossing my
fingers, I murmured, "I hope so. Oh, how I hope so."
Opening the front door with a flourish, I stood to one
side as, like a child looking at her first Christmas
tree, Gayle entered. Passing from room to room,
sweeping round in wondrous circles as her eyes took in
the fixtures and fittings, her face was a picture of
happiness. To my question, "Do you like it?"
reproachfully she looked at me. "You know I do.
There's everything in it I've ever wanted."
"I should think so, too," I grumbled with a smile.
"It's just taken four men three days to move everything
in. And me to supervise them."
Beginning to move towards me, about to give me a hug,
Gayle's face lit-up, but rudely, I turned to my mother.
"Shall we tell her the rest?"
Grannie nodded. "Well, you ought, seeing it's hers"
To Gayle's puzzled look, I said "The house is all
yours. From the accident money. When it happened, I
made up my mind that if you survived, you'd have your
own little house, just how you wanted it and where you
wanted." I waved my arm around the room. "This is it!
With love from your mother and I. She'd want you to
have it. And so do I. You have a life to lead, now.
All yours, to do with as you wish."
Incredulously staring around her, Gayle sat down with
a bump. "It's what I always dreamed of. Everything I
wanted in my own little home, with the people I love
around me." She turned to me. "How did you know what
furniture to get and things like that?"
"All those evenings talking to you, I was spying on
you. When you said you like something you saw, or when
you were talking about colours and such-like, it just
sort of became filed away in my mind. The insurance
claim was settled about two years ago and we've scarcely
touched the money. It's all on deposit; we've been
living just on the interest." I held out the bunch of
house-keys. "The money and these, they're all yours,
kid."
Suddenly aware of something in my attitude and sensing
betrayal, her face white and serious, Gayle stared at
me. In an false, tight voice, she asked, "When are we
going to move in, Daddy?"
Like the fantasy `one day' when Gayle would walk,
never believing it would arrive until it actually did,
disbelievingly talked-about for years but suddenly here,
that other `moment' was hurriedly and unpityingly upon
me. Suddenly feeling sick and dizzy, I said pointedly,
"You just did."
Hurt and disappointed, suddenly realising the truth,
Gayle said in a small voice, "Oh."
There was a long pause as she thought things through.
Like a child trying to delay bed-time, inspiration for
obstruction coming to her, her face lighting up, Gayle
exclaimed, "But I can't live on my own, Daddy! Not
yet, anyway. I've just come out of hospital. I need
help around me."
Ruthless, I'd already cut off that retreat. "You
won't be on your own, my love. Until we are sure you
are perfectly OK, Grandma has agreed to live with you
for a few months. She's happy to stay for as long as
you need. Aren't you, Mother?"
Expecting happiness and smiles all the way, suddenly
aware something was drastically wrong, glancing uneasily
first at Gayle and then me, my mother said, "Of course,
dear. I'll make us a drink."
Looking at each other as crockery rattled and Mother
hummed to herself in the kitchen, her eyes wide and
frightened and on the verge of tears, Gayle's trembling
lips mouthed a silent, "Why?"
"Because it's for the best, I suppose, darling," I
replied dumbly. "It wouldn't be right. Much though I
love you, you know that, it just wouldn't be right.
Try to understand."
Clutching a last feeble straw, Gayle asked in a small
voice, "How about my clothes and things? I need to
talk to you. We'll come and pick them up."
Foreseeing this particular question, I had the answer
ready. "There's a charge-account in your name in all
the major stores in town. You can well afford to buy
whatever you want and in any case, everything at home of
yours is being brought down here tomorrow."
"But, Daddy..." Misery beginning to well in her,
Gayle's voice faltered. "But, Daddy... White-lipped,
she looked away from me, her fingers pinching the bridge
of that lovely nose as fighting tears, she screwed up
her eyes. Swallowing hard, her voice throaty, she
whispered, "But what about your promise? We made a
deal and I love you and I don't want this." Slowly
shaking her head, her voice cracking, she slowly
repeated. "I really do not want this. I want it to
be as we promised each other." Tears very close, her
voice choking as it changed to a little whine of
anguish, her brown eyes sparkled water as she looked at
me. "Oh, Daddy. Why? Don't make it this way,
please."
Avoiding her eyes, I swallowed. "Of all the promises
I've ever made you, Gayle, I've always kept them. But
there is just this one I can't keep. It isn't because
I don't want to. I just can't!" Pleading, I looked
back at her. "Oh, Gayle, I've done my best. Surely
I'm entitled to renege on just one promise?"
Unsteadily, her lips pinched, a pale-faced Gayle leant
against the back of a chair. Gazing at nothing, in
exactly the same very flat voice, unemotional voice
she'd used when the rabbit had hit the car, she said,
"So it was all a big fib. You never did want me.
Everything was simply to keep me working at getting
better, wasn't it? Just to stop me from feeling sorry
for myself."
More than ever before, I wanted to put my arms round
her, to kiss Gayle's eyes and lips and face and neck and
anything else I could possibly reach; to tell her it was
all subterfuge, that in six years, the only reason I'd
been able to keep going was because she had made me feel
so selfish, too ashamed to give up. That I desperately
wanted her, that the future would mean nothing without
her.
And break faith and tell her I might have, save at
that moment, the serving-hatch opened and Mother pushed
through the tea-tray. Clamping my heart back in place,
I shrugged as she came into the room. "I can't stay
any longer, Mother. It's a long journey, and I must be
getting back." Moving to Gayle, as I kissed her cheek,
I closed my eyes to avoid the look of deep pain on her
face. Slipping a set of keys on the table, I murmured,
"There's a car in the garage. That's all yours as
well."
Glancing sideways at her grand-mother, in a whisper,
Gayle asked, "Who's going to look after you? You'll be
all on your own. I want to look after you." She
paused. "I always have done."
"I've looked after us both for a long time, darling.
I can easily fend for myself." Avoiding Gayle's look
of disappointment, I did my best to smile cheerfully.
"In any case, I'm off on holiday tomorrow, a real
holiday. My present to me from the Insurance Company.
Sunny climes and sandy beaches!" I lied. "For two
whole months."
With my head down as I scuttled from the house, my
last sight of Gayle was as she sat with her elbows on
the table, her hands clasped either side of her nose,
her shoulders heaving as she choked back unexplainable
tears which my mother wouldn't understand. Hunch-
shouldered, falling over my own feet like the drenched
rat I felt, I scurried to the car.
But I knew I was right! Fully-recovered, Gayle now
had her own life to lead. For 154 long miles, I knew I
was right. Back in a normal environment, she'd quickly
abandon all day-dreams of our continuing our love-affair
and be very happy that events had progressed only as far
as they had. All the drive home, I constantly reminded
myself I was right; Gayle was much more mature than her
18 years, she'd quickly appreciate the wisdom of my
decision, why I had kept her at arm's length. For
every inch of those dark, cold long miles, I told myself
that given time, she would even come to appreciate how
from the moment I knew she could walk, it had been
necessary to avoid her, to put distance between us and
for fear my heart would break and I'd give-in, to park
her Grand-mother on her for some months; good company,
someone to talk to and laugh with. About the same
company I'd always tried to be.
Gayle was hurt, but she'd soon know why it was
necessary. I knew I'd hurt her, but it was for the
very best of good reasons; how many good reasons did I
need? What did she know of love? Tantamount to a
school-girl crush, infatuated with a White
Knight-figure, she was still a child who didn't know her
own mind. Any thought to the contrary was kicked out.
Reaching home, wearily garaging the car, I entered the
cold, still house. Making myself a hot drink, as I
recalled everything that had happened and had been said
in each room of the house, remembering Gayle's misery
and tearful eyes, reminding myself of all the
wonderfully right, moral and noble reasons I'd done what
I'd done, grimacing, I paced the room,
I was right! If the situation were explained to
them, who would be happy to agree with me, I wondered.
Just about everybody! Wouldn't God? Would Val?
Sitting inside me for weeks, squeezing my heart, the
truth I'd summarily suppressed suddenly popped up and as
once again, thoughts beginning to churn, I acknowledged
I'd made a terrible, ghastly mistake. Using the old
routine, I separated myself from the equation, and seen
through her mother's eyes, I was wrong. Despite her
distress, through all the difficulties, the only person
upon whom I could rely to keep faith, to always trust me
and whose judgement I respected was Gayle. From
everyone around, the only person consistently thinking
of me and for me, the one importance was Gayle. And
I'd just broken her heart. Between any two people, as
long as it was unconditionally-given and they both were
happy, love - be it heterosexual, homosexual, incestual
or any other `ual'- was their own private concern and
no matter how important they considered themselves, of
no business of any other person, race, creed, colour,
religious denomination or anything else!
And through the eyes of The Almighty? Expecting a
prompt `you're right!', amazingly, I just couldn't think
of an answer. But if Gayle was love to me, the same
Love He was purported to be, I'd broken His heart as
well. Slumping down in my chair, I realised that in my
nobility, just how hideously wrong I was, that whilst
I'd lost a true love for ever, into the bargain, I'd
very probably lost a fried, a mate. And a daughter.
Jumping as I thought I heard Gayle's bell ring,
outside the window, a cat mewed. Beset by the empty
house's memories of Gayle's laughter, her voice, her
scent, of her whispered tendernesses as we'd loved
together in this very room, I sat.
And remembered.
And wept.
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
Chapters 1-6 of this story can be obtained from
`list-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'
Concludes in the September edition of
`Electra Magazine'
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
NEXT MONTH: includes another true-account of incest
written by an `Electra'
Two other stories taken from our Arichive
`Viccy' reveals more from her `Incest-Help-Line' mail-
bag and asks if incest is geographic? Or even natural?
`Julia' answers your incestuous questions!
And read the moving, final chapter of "THE DOORS TO
GAYLE'S FUTURE"
Plus other features, letters and topics of interest.
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
Merrill, Castle and Gray (UK)
e-mail:
editor : `ed-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'
distribution: `dist-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'
subscription: `sub-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'
publications: `list-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'
archive : `arch-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
`ELECTRA MAGAZINE' is usually published between 10 days
and 2 days prior to the month to which it applies.
The Proprietors, Editor and Staff of Merrill, Castle and
Gray accept no responsibility for matters arising from
the contents of the Magazine, neither does it
necessarily reflect their views or opinions.
Any discrepancy or omission of Author acknowledgment is
entirely circumstantial.
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
"ELECTRA MAGAZINE" (August)
copyright: Merrill, Castle & Gray 1996 (UK Edition)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or
otherwise, without prior permission of the publishers.
This magazine is published subject to the condition that
it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise circulated
without the publishers prior consent in any form or
binding or cover other than that in which it is
published and without similar condition including this
condition being imposed on the s ubsequent purchaser.
Merrill, Castle & Gray.
e-mail:ed-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk
--
Distribution Manager
Merrill, Castle & Gray