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+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
EDITORIAL
~~~~~~~~~
Granted the current problems with pedophiles being
experienced in Belgium and the conference regarding
child-prostitution recently taking place in Sweden,
Governments are attempting to radically alter outlooks
and attitudes on all sorts of sexual practice on a
world-wide scale. Whilst this will obviously make
itself felt in the months and years ahead, because of
all the regional variations of law and practice on the
subject of tolerance of sex, whilst rewarding for the
individual politician or institution, inception of
suppressive change is likely to prove an embarrassment
for concerted, organised and co-ordinated assault.
By the very nature of the Internet, interpretation by
various servers of what is legal, moral and ethical
clashes frequently with the mandate of such governments,
and it is our opinion that, given time, apathy will
return and things will carry on as normal.
Hideous though the thought may be, an interrupted
freedom of speech and expression is likely to be the
outcome in the short-term and for that matter, a lively
discussion will replace the displaying of binaries and
many stories on newsgroups.
Albeit that the intention of authority is right and
noble, its attitude of persecution will do untold damage
and cause great hindrance to its own operations, and in
the meantime, we will continue to publish "ELECTRA
MAGAZINE" magazine and our archive - although behind
schedule - will open during the Autumn months.
We trust you will make use of it.
Merrill Castle and Gray
September 1996
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
Each month, we publish one or two stories from our
Archive. Whilst we hope you will enjoy it, as it can
involve any sex-related matter, we cannot guarantee it
will be to your liking or taste.
Therefore, we give a formal disclaimer:
THE FOLLOWING MATERIAL CONTAINS DESCRIPTIONS OF SEX-
RELATED TOPICS. DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU ARE PREPARED TO
BE OFFENDED OR SHOCKED.
MERRILL, CASTLE AND GRAY (UK) ACCEPT NO RESPONSIBILITY
WHATSOEVER FOR ANY EFFECT WHICH THE STORY MAY HAVE.
DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18 YEARS OF
AGE.
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
"VOLUNTEER"
Anon
~~~~
Men often complain that their wives aren't interested
in sex, but my husband doesn't complain at all- I'm the
one with the complaint!
From early morning to late at night, my husband works
as a heavy equipment salesman. He makes tons of money,
but he never makes love to me except for a half-hearted
effort on some weekends.
What's even worse, when he gets home at night he
usually falls asleep on the couch. We never see a movie,
go out to dinner, or even just go to the mall to get out
of the house. Yes, if it wasn't for the fact that he
gives me and the kids all the money we need, life would
be unbearable.
The worst thing, though, is that I really loved him
before he began to think of nothing but work. I still do
love him, and that's why for 15 years I never thought of
cheating on him.
I always thought everything would be all right if he'd
just think of me sometimes instead of how many
bulldozers he can sell to the big account in Idaho!
Anyway, when I told him I was getting bored and needed
something to do during the day (he doesn't want me to
work; he says he makes more money than we could ever
spend, and he might be right!), he said "Why don't you
go volunteer to work at the hospital. That should keep
you busy!"
Although I don't like the sight of blood, I responded
to an ad in the paper looking for hospital volunteers.
As I was given a tour of the hospital, the volunteer co-
ordinator explained that I would basically help the
nurses--make sure ice water bottles in rooms are filled,
maybe push a patient around in a wheelchair, get
newspapers for the patients, and so on. It didn't sound
too difficult, so I told them I would begin on Monday.
Since I'm just 36, I was easily the youngest volunteer
in the hospital. Most of the daytime help consisted of
retired gents, or elderly widows after the retired
gents. Still, everyone pitched in and made themselves
useful. After the first week, I was finding the work
very rewarding and I looked forward to my four-hour
shift three days a week! I was still frustrated by my
husband's lack of attention, but the volunteer work
provided some outlet and relief from my physical
cravings for sex.
After about three weeks on the job, the head nurse
assigned me the job of filling up the ice water bottles
in each room. The wing I was working on was mostly
orthopaedic patients. It wasn't very crowded, and
several of the rooms only had one patient in them. As I
pushed my cart along, I reached the last room in the
corridor, took a bottle off the car and breezed
unannounced into a room. I didn't think before pushing
aside the privacy curtains around the bed, and I soon
learned why they were closed! The patient, a good-
looking male around my age, was sitting up in the bed
masturbating himself while looking at a pornographic
magazine! While my sudden entrance briefly startled him,
his reaction startled me.
"Well," he said, "did you come to just watch, or did
you want to give me a hand!" I then realized that
instead of putting the ice bottle down and leaving, I
had just stood there staring at his huge prick. Maybe it
was because I hadn't seen an erect cock at home in a few
weeks, or maybe I was just in shock at finding this
patient jerking himself off. Whatever the reason, I
finally responded by blushing, mumbling "excuse me," and
rushing out of the room.
Soon it was time to go home, but that night I could
hardly sleep. And, when I did, all I did was dream about
that man holding his huge cock and pumping his hand up
and down the shaft. I soon woke up and, with fantasies
of that big cock floating through my head, I began to
caress my clit with my fingers, moving slowly until I
felt a wetness between my legs. My clit was now swollen
and responding to the least bit of pressure, so as I
rubbed it around and round, I inserted two fingers into
my cunt. Imagining they were the patient's huge cock, I
felt my body began to respond. But, I knew my fingers
were no match for his huge prick. I began to rub my clit
and cunt faster and faster, and a quickening arose in my
twat. Faster and faster I moved my hands, but my own
hands could not provide the satisfaction I needed!
Reaching over I tried to arouse my husband, and I
started rubbing my hands up and down his flaccid shaft.
But, there was no response, either from him, or his limp
prick. He was deep in sleep, probably dreaming about the
fuel-saving benefits of a 18,000 horsepower diesel earth
mover! It was no use! I rolled over, and with my juicy
cunt longing for a good fucking, cried myself to sleep.
The next day was Tuesday, and because I didn't have a
shift at the hospital until Wednesday, I went to the
hairdresser, got my nails done, bought some make-up, and
finished my food shopping. Oddly enough, I didn't think
about the patient, or his huge cock, all day or night. I
didn't even think about him when I reported for duty the
next day! But, it wasn't long before I was thinking
about him. When the nurse told me to take the newspaper
down to Room 101, I felt my heart jump.
As I walked down the hall with the paper in my hand, I
didn't know if the lump in my throat was from fear or
anticipation. It wasn't long before I found out! This
time, I knocked at the door and heard the man say come
in. His privacy curtains were open, so I mustered up my
courage and walked over to the bed and held out the
paper to him. He just sat there and smiled, and it was
almost like he was reading my mind. "Please put the
paper on the table," he said. "I'll read it later."
I was just getting ready to turn and leave, when I
heard him push the switch that closes the privacy
curtains. As the curtains closed around us, he said
"There's something I want you to see."
With that, he pulled the waistband of his pajamas down
to reveal his huge cock. I realized then that I wanted
to see it as much as he wanted me to see it. It was
beautiful, and he must have seen my appreciation of it
in my face. "Would you like to hold it?" he asked.
Instead of answering, I reached over and took his
organ in my hand. As I began to move my hand up and down
the shaft, I could see and feel it gorging with blood,
growing longer and thicker with each caress of my hand.
"That's nice," he said. "Your hands feel much nicer on
my cock than my own hands.
Pump a little faster if you want to!"
My hand started sliding up and down his shaft in a
fast rhythm, but I soon realized his prick was too much
for one hand. One hand grabbed the base of his cock,
while the other massaged the meaty head of his shaft. He
started to move his hips in tandem with my grasps along
the length of his shaft, and soon I saw the glistening
of semen that dribbles out when excitement starts to
build.
Having been without sex for several weeks, I couldn't
control myself any longer. Leaning over the bed, I
sucked his cock deep into my mouth, and began to run my
mouth up and down the shaft so that his tip must have
went halfway down my throat. It was only seconds before
I felt his hot cum squirting in torrents down my throat,
into my mouth, and dribbling out onto my cheeks. I
sucked and sucked on his prick until every last drop of
cum was gone. As I did, I felt my juices dripping down
my thighs as a wave of satisfaction swept through my
body.
Suddenly, we heard steps in the hallway, and as I
quickly composed myself, he covered himself up like
nothing happened. A few seconds later the nurse came in
and sent me on some errands.
When I came back to work on Friday, the patient with
the big cock was gone. I never saw him again, but from
that day on my sex life got better and better. You see,
the nurse wasn't coming down to the room that day to
send me on an errand. She had been blowing the guy ever
since he was in the hospital (I don't think anything was
wrong with him---he just liked to spend a few days
getting sucked!), and he told her I gave head almost as
good as the head nurse!
Well, she spread the word around the hospital, and
soon I was spreading my legs, my cunt, my ass and
everything else for doctors, interns, orderlies! You
name it, I fucked it! It's a little easier putting up
with my husband's lack of interest in sex now. I get all
the money I want at home, and all the sex (and more) I
need at the hospital.
And, just yesterday the staff named me "Volunteer of
the Year!"
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
JULIA'S 10 MOST ASKED QUESTIONS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(`Julia' (not her real name) is the sister whose story
is related in `Consequences'. The mother of her
brother's Tom's two children, Shonagh and William, for
some time, she had assisted in the writing of an
syndicated `agony' column for a well- known syndicated
newspaper group. Here, exploding a number of paradigms
and misconceptions as she goes, she replies to an often-
asked question: `in incest, what are the ten most
prevalent questions?')
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Why do people do it?
I'd don't know about everyone else, but as far as I am
concerned, it was for the same reason as ever other
woman wants to live with a man. Without realising
it, I fell in love with my brother at a very early
age, and how it grew out of that is a very long story,
but suffice it to say that by the age of 24, because
of a sudden shift in my matrimonial status,
circumstances threw us together. Obviously, it had
been laying under the surface all that time, and
`bang!' everything happened in about five minutes.
No matter who is involved; father/daughter,
mother/son, sister/brother, the thing everyone seems
happy to forget is that in incest, `love' is involved
in it somewhere! The sooner people take that on
board and stop trying to legislate for other people's
emotions, the quicker all the subsidiary problems will
be resolved.
What are the risks to progeny?
Genetics are more a question for medical people, but
for `first-generation' children from incest, it is
much less riskier than people generally believe.
Elsewhere in the animal world, incest is part and
parcel of the natural life-cycle and deformed or
otherwise deprived off-spring are very rare.
A bigger risk to incestuous progeny is that they
usually get spoilt to death. Except in cases where
sexual attention has been forced on a relative (which
has everything to do with rape and nothing to do with
incest), in the majority of cases, children are borne
through loving conception; if they weren't `special
children' before, after birth, they certainly are, and
it is very difficult for the parents not to enshrine
the children as virtual `living-gods'. Keeping a
sense of perspective and raising them as `normal'
children can be very difficult. There are a thousand
reasons for it, which would fill many books, time and
again.
When you found you were pregnant, what did you do?
Personally, I jumped for joy. I'd been wanting Tom's
baby for a couple of years, it is just one of those
`loving' things which, because of our relationship,
was probably very much stronger in me than other women
in `normal' relationships. When the pregnancy was
confirmed, I realised I'd been wanting it since the
age of puberty, so all told I was very happy.
Initially, there often were times when the little
insidious voice of doubt got to me, and to Tom, but we
supported each other and with some positive mental
effort, were able to push the problems to one side.
In the event, both children were perfectly normal,
(except they are much more mentally-brighter than
their parents, but we do not know whether that is just
evolution or because they are the results of incest).
Have you no shame?
To people who ask this, I always feel like bursting
out laughing! My `husband' is extremely happy, as
are our children; we live a very honest life together,
there are no secrets and we have never lied, misled or
deceived each other in any way at all.
Within my sphere of influence, my son is extremely
confident, calm, a natural gentleman who treats other
people (particularly women) with respect, and who has
learnt the virtues of loving, and - we think - has got
his priorities in the right order, i.e. is exactly how
most other people would be happy to see their children
develop. In all areas of his life, including sexual,
exactly the same as any other parent, I have done my
absolute best for his happiness in the short, medium
and kong-term future, and although through people's
questions, I often think about it, I'm sorry, but I
have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. But by a
similar token, should I have fallen short of doing my
best for him by denying him something which was in my
power to give, including myself and my body, I most
certainly would feel ashamed.
What trauma is caused to the children?
By dictionary definition, `trauma' means injury by
shock, and in that context, we'd defy anyone to see
where our children have ever been `shocked'. As
doors have opened to them in life, with our
encouragement, they have gone through those doors
which have appealed to them. That on the other side
of the door lay an emotional and physical love-life
involving their relatives is a `by-the-way' thing;
there are many more events in day-to-day life which
cause untold harm and trauma, but people very rarely
become concerned about that. Tom and I consider the
art of the exercise lays in letting things occur
naturally to children as they go through life; it is
only when the `shock', `horror', `tragedy' syndrome
comes into people's lives that they become shocked,
horrified and tragic.
If there was any `trauma' involved, in my earlier
life, it came about by my desperately trying to force
myself away from what was, to me, a very natural path
of loving my family members!
What we are talking about, I suppose, is teaching
children how to cope calmly and not only with
`ordinary life', our children were also taught how to
cope with sex, their bodies and those of the people
around them.
At what age did you become involved in incest?
Theoretically, when I was 24 and Tom was 26, but it
actually started when I was 4 and he was 6. From
unwitting actions and the social environment of the
time, fuel was very gradually added to the flames
until one day, as I said, circumstances changed and
within us both was a raging, forest fire. But from
the tiniest events, it was like a chain reaction
spread over the next twenty years. `For every
action, there is an equal and opposite reaction',
which is why we called our story `Consequences!'
How did you become involved?
People have hypothesised that it was through child-
curiosity, which seems to be a `knee-jerk' answer for
things they are happy children cannot experience, but
I remember the day in the most intimate detail, even
to how I felt. Probably because I was too young to
have attracted the sophistication and cynicism of
adulthood, when it was happening to me, I felt
completely innocent, extremely happy and loved the
person who was doing it to me very, very much. A
bond formed, and being the character he is, he never
naturally did the things people do to each other which
destroys the bond; if anything over the following
years, by and large, everything he did added to it.
That he was my brother was just one of those things.
When it came to making love to him and living with
him, I certainly experienced no hang-ups; what we had
for each other burnt away any other consideration.
Did your parents ever find out?
As we relate in our story, although Mum was never
officially told - in our family, we never discussed
ANYTHING - we believe she eventually guessed. To the
day he died, Dad never caught on, it would simply
never have occurred to him.
When it comes to loving your son, how do you deal with
the guilt?
The short answer is, what guilt? We are open and
honest together, we do everything to keep each other
happy, we put effort into each other's lives, so where
can guilt come from? I'd feel guilty if any of those
things were missing, not because they are there!
If your `husband' ever left you, what would you do?
This always implies that because of our `illegal',
`immoral' life-style, I have a `hold' over him, or
would feel differently to any other woman. A
difficult question to answer, it seems well outside
the province of our life-style and into the world of
any loving-relationship.
If any person is well-loved, well-wanted and well-
needed, and their love-life is happy, they do not
wander away. If Tom REALLY wanted `out', then I love
him enough to want him to be free, even of me, but
really, granted the state of his home-life, I don't
think such a proposition ever crosses anyone's mind.
With two very-loving `wives', a young grand-daughter
and freedom to do as you wish, whenever you wished,
would YOU leave?
(To obtain a free copy of the first parts of Julia's
life-story with her brother, `Tom', email:
`CQ1-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'
One of our "Case-Book" series.
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
"ELECTRA AND HER DAUGHTERS"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Both Doctors of Philosophy,, the verified work of two
American researchers, `Electra And Her Daughters'
relates 11 true accounts of incestuous relationships
started and maintained by the female of the specie.
The distaff side of the Oedipus Complex, a term in
psychiatry, `Electra' was a Greek goddess desiring
sexual-relations with her father. Taken from written
accounts supplied by the person involved, the
authenticity of which has been verified as far as
possible, the following is the story of:
Edward: "A daughter ought to be a comfort..."
[When we began our search for participants in non-
traumatic incestuous relationships, our expectations
were if we received any responses at all, they would be
from women. At least physically, whilst most men
would undoubtedly enjoy such a relationship, we were
almost totally certain they would not respond to our
appeal, either because their consciences would not let
them and/or because they were sure in their own minds
their partners in incest did not share their feelings.
So, the following letter from `Edward' came as somewhat
of a surprise to us, as anticipated by its writer. FB.]
Dear Dr. VB:
I imagine that you will be surprised to be hearing
from a man; everything I have read lately about
incestuous relations between fathers and daughters has
been written by women, for whom the experience was
traumatic. No doubt their fathers did not find what they
were doing traumatic, or they would not have done it,
but you won't be getting any letters from them! But, let
me introduce myself:
I am forty years old, an attorney - who should (and
does) know what he is doing is against the law.
An avid tennis player, I am physically very fit. I
have also been called handsome but however, my wife of
eighteen years apparently didn't find me handsome
enough, because she left me a little over a year ago,
running off with my partner, Richard, and most of the
negotiables, leaving me with our fifteen-year-old
daughter, Roberta.
Needless to say, `Bobbie,' as everyone calls her, and
I were devastated by my wife's abandonment of her
family, and even moreso by the discovery that before
leaving town, she had `slept around' with, I must
assume, her `favourite' corespondent.
For the first few months after my wife's departure,
I'm afraid I wasn't a very good father to our daughter -
as though I am, now! At any rate, I did not take the
interest a parent should in the life of a teenage girl.
In other words, my supervision of her was quite cursory.
Of course, I knew she was dating, but so long as her
dates were from `our set', I didn't object.
Then, late one Sunday afternoon, Bobbie came home from
a supervised swimming party at a boy's house and went
straight to her room. She was wearing a long, floppy
sweat-shirt which came down barely far enough to cover
her well-rounded bottom. There was something I wanted
to ask her, so I rose from where I had been watching
TV and followed her.
Although I always knocked before entering her room,
since it had hardly been more than five seconds since
she had entered it, that day I opened her door without
knocking and walked in a step or so.
Bobbie is sixteen years old, about five foot three and
a hundred and five pounds. With medium-length dark-
blonde hair and hazel eyes, her breasts are about the
size of oranges, her waist is slim, and her bottom is
like two halves of a small, round water-melon. As I
entered, she was standing by her bed, half-facing in my
direction and in the process of removing it, had pulled
her floppy top up so that her head was engulfed in it.
Below, she was wearing the bottom of her two-piece
swimsuit but her breasts were completely bare. I
couldn't keep myself from audibly gasping at the sight.
When she heard my intake of breath, Bobbie pulled her
top down so she could see over its folds, but her
jutting of her breasts prevented it from coming down far
enough to hide them completely. Naturally, since I
did always knock before entering, her eyes showed some
surprise and she said, "Daddy?"
I tried - God, how I tried! - to divert my gaze from
her half-nude body, but for a long moment I could only
stare at her. Then I said, "I'm sorry, Dear," and I
turned toward the door.
Before I could go through it though, she said,
"Daddy," again, and I turned back toward her. Not
very diligently, I'm afraid, Bobbie was now trying to
pull her top down farther, but her bare breasts were
still nearly completely visible to me. Keeping my eyes
away from those luscious mounds exposed before me, I
tried hard to look into her eyes and she was blushing
profusely. "The catch on the bra of my swimsuit broke,"
she explained. "That's why I don't have it on under my
pullover."
"I see," I said, and then saw her eyes flick
downwards. At the sight of those lovely little breasts,
I could feel my penis rapidly growing hard and realizing
there was no way I could hide my condition from her
gaze, I turned again to the door.
"Daddy," Bobbie said again, and I turned back to her.
She had abandoned her top, leaving her breasts in full
view. "Do you think my breasts are pretty?" she asked,
and pulled her shoulders back to enhance their
appearance. Not knowing what to say, I gulped deeply.
"You haven't seen them since they developed. I mean,
uncovered," she went on. "Well," she insisted, "do
you?"
"Do I what?" I asked, my mind in a complete dither.
"Think my breasts are pretty, silly," she said,
smiling at me.
"They're-beautiful, Sweetheart," Glancing at them
again in spite of myself, to my dismay, I noticed their
nipples were now erect.
"Daddy," said Bobbie in her gentlest voice, "Am I
giving you a problem?"
"Why, no," I lied, but saw her eyes were fastened on
the unmistakable bulge profiled in my shorts. Her eyes
rose to meet mine as she said,
"Are you sure?"
After the break-up of my marriage I had not engaged in
sex with anyone, getting a job with a large law firm
where the only women were either elderly secretaries or
the masculine-looking, hard-as-nails type with about as
much sex appeal as a book of statutes. Fear of AIDS
prevented me from even thinking of seeking relief from
anyone else I came into contact with and the sight of
the half-nude body of my sixteen-year-old daughter was
reminding me just how deprived I had been. "Well, of
course you are!" I almost shouted at her. "I am human,
you know, even if I am your father!"
My daughter smiled at me in apparent sympathetic
understanding. In hardly more than a whisper, she asked
"Have you had sex with anybody since Mom left?" she
asked.
I shook my head. "The AIDS thing has . . ."
Bobbie cut off my stumbling words. Stating the
obvious, she observed, "Then you must be feeling awfully
horny," and I wondered where she had learned that word.
Somewhat defensively, I said, "Well, of course I miss
sex. I'm just not cut out for celibacy."
A very serious look came over Bobbie's lovely face.
"Do you want to do it to me?" she asked.
Interpreting her question to mean she was astounded,
even horrified, that I was obviously sexually aroused at
the sight of my own daughter's body, I said, "Darling,
I'm sorry. Whether he wanted it to or not, the sight
of a beautiful young nearly-naked body like yours would
stimulate any man."
Understanding my disavowal, Bobbie shook her head. "I
wasn't condemning you," she said. "I was inviting you."
Unable to believe my ears, I stared at her,
speechless.
Her voice soft, Bobbie went one. "Did you know, before
she went away, Mom got me a prescription for the pill?"
and surprised, I shook my head. "Uh-huh," she said,
nodding her head. "When I started dating and having my
periods. Mom said they would help my complexion." She
laughed. "But I knew she thought I'd probably do it
with somebody before long. I guess she thought I might
have inherited her `hot pants' and she didn't want me to
get pregnant.
"So, I don't see why I can't help you sometimes. It
isn't as though you're going to knock me up and have to
pay for an abortion."
I was aghast at her suggestion. "But you're my
daughter."
As though that were hardly worth considering, Bobbie
shrugged her shoulders. Pointedly looking again toward
my crotch, she said, "And a daughter ought to be a
comfort to her father. Not a problem!
Bobbie looked at me very seriously. "I know you've
had a pretty rough time of it since Mother ran off. I
know knew men needed sex every so often, so wouldn't it
be better for you to do it with me than take the chance
of catching `some horrible disease' from someone else?"
When I didn't respond, Bobbie was insistent. "Well,
wouldn't it? You mentioned the AIDS thing, yourself."
Vehemently shaking my head, I said, "I'm not going to
take your virginity."
Staring at me for a moment as though I were someone
from an earlier century, Bobbie threw her head back and
laughed lightly. "That's already been taken care of!"
she said.
My jaw dropped open. I had not wanted to think my
beautiful young daughter might have already lost her
virginity, but with a face and body like hers, I
shouldn't have been surprised. And I certainly didn't
want to think she might have inherited her mother's `hot
pants!'
Frowning at my stunned look, Bobbie said, "Well, I'm
not a tramp! I've only done it three times, and with the
same boy. And if you're wondering," she went on, "I'm
the first and only girl he's done it with. So you don't
have to worry about me having caught some disease from
him."
My mind in a turmoil, I was still speechless and stood
staring at he. After a moment or two, Bobbie reached up
and, finishing pulling her top off over her head, she
slipped the skimpy bottom of her suit over her
beautifully-rounded bottom, letting it drop to the
floor. Stepping out of it, she turned to face me. At the
top of her slit, the tuft of hair was the same dark
blonde as the hair on her head, but there was so little
of it I could see her genital lips disappearing between
her thighs. I groaned! She smiled sympathetically at my
discomfort - what an inadequate word! - and sat down on
the edge of her bed. Holding her arms out toward me, she
said, "Daddy, I love you. Let me help you."
Now, Dr. VB, if there is a man alive who can walk away
from an invitation like that from such a delectable
example of female youth, I will eat his hat, his coat,
and his trousers! Yes, I succumbed, and daughter or not,
I defy any man to say he wouldn't have done likewise! I
walked - no, staggered - to Bobbie and kneeling down
before her, put my arms around her waist and my head on
those luscious, soft young breasts. Putting her arms
around my neck and pressing my cheek to her bosom, as
though I were a baby in her arms, she rocked back and
forth. Then putting her hands on my biceps, she urged me
to rise.
Standing me before her, Bobbie unfastened my shorts,
pulling them down so they dropped around my ankles.
Causing my erection to spring upright not over a foot
from her face, grasping the waistband of my jockey
shorts, she pulled them down too.
Smiling grimly at her look of surprise, I thought,
`Not the half-grown cock of some pimply-faced teenager,
is it, my sweet?'
Gingerly, Bobby took my penis in her hand and
examining it closely, moved it this way and that. "So
that's where I came from," she said. And then she looked
up at me and said, "Daddy?"
Thinking my cock being larger than she'd expected, she
was having second thoughts - and, if she did, I didn't
know if I could prevent myself from raping her!, I asked
"What?"
"I really am doing this just to help you," she said.
Bobbie lay back on the bed, her thighs spread slightly,
and smiled up at me.
"I know, Honey," I said. Climbing in between her
legs, which she opened wider to receive me, I removed my
shirt and laid myself between them.
"What I mean is, when you are feeling really horny,
you can come to me," Bobbie said. "But I don't want to
do it, like every night, just for your pleasure."
"I understand, Sweetheart," I said, and a smile on her
lips, Bobbie lay back and waited for my penetration.
Arms up, hands beside her head on the pillow, her body
totally relaxed, it was almost as if she were simply a
little girl again, waiting for Daddy to read her a
story.
Approaching her gingerly and placing the head of my
penis into her slit, to my surprise, it encountered
dampness. Bobbie's juices were flowing, and with the
lubricant seeping from the end of my cock, I was sure
entry would be no problem. Pushing forward, my penis
slid in to about half its length and Oh, God! she was so
tight! Retreating an inch and pushed again, it was
all the way in her. Probably because my penis was
larger than the other one she had experienced, there was
a flickering of her eyelids and a quick intake of
breath, but then she smiled again.
Positioning myself over her, I began the in-and-out
movements. Looking down her flat tummy and watching my
cock, shiny with our juices, disappear into her and then
reappear was the most fascinating sight of my life!
No matter how urgent my need for relief, I make sure
my partner enjoys her own orgasm, and even though it
had been a `long time between drinks', I didn't intend
for this time to be an exception. Making long, slow
insertions and withdrawals, moving a little from side-
to-side to stimulate the nerve-endings in the walls of
her vagina, I made my pubic bone massage Bobbie's
clitoris when I was completely within her. Realizing
later I was taking substantially longer than any self-
serving teenage boy was likely to, I did this for a
considerable time and then the expression on her face
began to change. A very thoughtful look appearing, and
clutching at the pillow slip on either side of her head,
Bobbie didn't seem to know what to do with her hands.
Until now, she had been lying perfectly still, but her
bottom began making small, jerky moves against my
middle. Looking at me with half-closed eyes, she
suddenly said, "Daddy?"
"What, Sweetheart?" I said, not slowing my pace.
In a high, quavering voice, she said, "Can girls c-c-
come?".
Surprised, I stopped all movement and said, "Of course
they can." I looked down into her face, and asked, "You
haven't had an orgasm when you've done this before?"
Closing her eyes, Bobbie shook her head. "I don't
know," she said.
"Oh darling, when you have one, you'll know it!"
Resuming my in-and-out motions, in a still-quavering
voice and almost as if she hadn't even heard my comment,
Bobbie continued, "But I'm feeling funnier and funnier
down there.
"Oh, boy! Oh-h-h, bo-o-y!" Bobbie's arms suddenly
went around my neck, and she pushed her buttocks upward
in short, sharp jabs. "Oh, Daddeee!" she cried and as I
felt the muscles of her tight little pussy clamp around
my turgid cock, I hit the high-spot. Cum exploding
through my shaft like bullets from a machine-gun barrel,
Bobbie clutched me to her breasts, her body shaking so
hard I was afraid for her.
And then she fell back, and I collapsed on top of her.
After a few moments' rest, I rolled over and pulled
her head onto my shoulder. I kissed her cheek, and my
lips tasted a salty tear. Truly concerned, I asked,
"I didn't hurt you, did I, Precious?"
Bobbie shook her head and peeped at me out of the
corner of her wet eyes. "No, Daddy. It was - beautiful!
I didn't know it could be like that." Her breasts
rubbing against my ribs, she snuggled up to me, and
after a moment, put her lips to my ear.
"You know what I said?" she asked, in a voice
surprisingly husky for her age, "I mean, about you
coming to me just when you were really horny?" I nodded,
yes. "Well, you can forget that," she said. Then Bobbie
chuckled, almost to herself. "You can do that to me any
time you want!"
Figuring they were just showing their ignorance, she
later told me she'd heard girls talk about `coming'.
How could a girl come, she'd wondered, if she doesn't
ejaculate semen? Knowing it felt pretty good to do
it, Bobbie said, "But I hadn't expected anything like
that!"
Having experienced her first orgasm, she has not been
shy about seeking repetitions. The `anytime you want to'
has become anytime she wants to, and that is -
frequently!
What her former boy-friend thinks, I don't know since
she tells me that she has `cut him off' entirely. And I
don't know what is going to happen in the future. I
suppose she'll get married one of these days, and I
probably will, too. But, for now, I just have to admit
that I'm not strong enough to resist Bobbie's youth and
beauty. And enthusiasm!
Sincerely yours,
Edward
P.S. So you won't think I have made all this up, or
that my daughter might have a different story to tell,
I'm going to show this letter to Bobbie and tell her she
can add her own comments if she wants to, so -
Dear Dr. VB: I love my Daddy, and I am so glad that he
gave me my very first orgasm because I might not have
ever had one if he hadn't. Well, I guess I probably
would have, sooner or later. Anyhow, I love doing it
with him! And I really love it when he brings me off
with his tongue in my pussy! (I see he didn't tell you
about that, though! Ha, ha!) Yours truly, Bobbie
P.P.S. I promised her that I wouldn't change anything
she wanted to add to the letter, so I won't. But I
notice that she didn't tell you how she can suck my very
soul out of me through my penis with her sweet, young
mouth. (So there, my love!)
Edward
P.P.P.S. Daddy! Bobbie
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
CAROL AND TOM
by `Nom de Plume'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We were dirt poor, as it was called then. There were
many poor families in the Depression, and we were among
the poorest. Our father did what he could: auto
mechanic, home handyman, occasional logger, but we
sometimes didn't have enough to eat - my twin sister,
Carol and I. We were 15 and had not known any other way.
We had always been poor, but happy.
At least as I look back on it now, I realize we were
happy. We weren't comfortable and our daily lives were
filled with the chores one must do when there is no
central heat, no plumbing, and very little money to buy
food. We lived in western Virginia, in the Blue
Mountains. Carol did the cooking and house-cleaning. I
chopped wood in the fall and winter, tried to stop the
roof from leaking, slaughtered the chickens and the
other man-chores around the house. We attended a one-
room school that we walked to. We were the oldest in the
class since our father was not a farmer. We had never
been farther than our local town, Thompsonville, and
that only on special occasions or on Sunday.
Our cabin was tiny, just three rooms - a main
living/dining/kitchen with one wood stove and two
bedrooms. Our father had a bedroom and Carol and I
shared one. Back then this was acceptable, out of
necessity. Boys and girls frequently shared a bedroom
with several siblings. We had small beds not quite long
enough for our lanky teenaged bodies, and we each had a
home-made dresser. Our headboards butted in opposite
directions so we couldn't see each other when lying
down. We had no closet and hung coats and things on pegs
along one wall. There was a window on the outside wall
through which the virgin forest dominated the view.
I had reached puberty - that is, I had grown pubic
hair - a little after my 14th birthday. My knowledge of
sex was limited to barnyard observances. I had no idea
how humans did it. I started masturbating in the spring
following my 15th birthday. Our little cabin and tiny
bedroom afforded little privacy so I got into the habit
of waking up in the middle of the night, when I knew my
sister would be asleep, to masturbate. It was
impossible, what with the rusty springs and wooden
floor, to be entirely silent about it but I tried.
Having to go slowly and the fear of being caught
heightened the experience and I did it almost nightly.
One night as I was almost silently stroking and ready
to come, I thought I heard an unusual sound from in back
of me. I froze immediately and waited. And waited. The
sound did not recur and my cock was ready to burst, so I
gave it some quick strokes and shot a very large load
all over my pajamas. There it was, that sound again! I
couldn't place it but it almost sounded like water, like
the creek in the hollow, like a slurping sound.
A few nights later, as I was stroking away in the
middle of the night, I heard the sound. I froze, but -
being bolder now - started up again soon. This time the
sound was louder and I didn't stop and the sound didn't
stop. This went on for a few weeks. I supposed she was
masturbating, but - remember this was the Thirties and
before widely available pornography - I didn't know how
girls masturbated. The possibility that she was doing to
herself something like what I was doing was extremely
exciting for me and I looked forward to hearing her. We
each tried to be quiet but I think each of us knew that
the other knew.
Sharing a bedroom meant that, no matter how carefully
we planned it, accidents of overly exposed skin happened
all too frequently. I had seen my sister's naked body
often enough to watch it change. Her hips widened, her
nipples and then her breasts swelled, and although I saw
it less frequently, she started growing hair in the V
where her legs met. She had seen me naked also and we
had both been secretly curious about each other's
bodies. Lately though, I noticed Carol trying harder
than normal to catch me. Once I saw her watching me
bathe in the creek.
One morning I awoke sleepily and in desperate need of
a good long piss. As I stumbled to the door my erect
cock slipped out of the slit in the front of my pajamas.
I heard a gasp from her and quickly tucked it back in.
That night I masturbated twice while remembering that
gasp. Both times I heard the slurping again.
Partly due to my nightly pleasure sessions I was, and
still am, a light sleeper. One night I awoke gently to
hear the floor creeping. I opened my eyes just barely to
see my sister, in her pajamas, oh- so-slowly and
gingerly tiptoeing toward my bed. She was looking at my
crotch, and seeing my erection bobbing out of my
pajamas. I pretended to be asleep as she crept closer. I
was scared, to tell you the truth. What was happening
was new, taboo, and exciting. She knelt down next to my
bed and watched it for the longest time. Needless to say
this was very stimulating to me and my cock bobbed for
attention. After a while, she crept back to her bed and
I heard the slurping sound again.
This continued for some time, this nightly inspection
at attention and became the fantasy I thought of when
masturbating. One night I just got so turned on by
exposing myself to her that I had to touch myself. I
figured I had to pretend I was doing it in my sleep and
almost casually jerked my hand across my cock. I saw
Carol jump but she dared not move suddenly or the floor
would make a definite and loud noise. I decided that the
most I could do was one more brush of my hand over my
hard-on. This time I squeezed it between two fingers as
my hand went over it. In spite of herself, she gasped.
Well, this was getting interesting. Carol didn't show
up at my bedside for several nights and I was
disappointed. I thought I had scared her away. One night
I became aware of her presence and, still pretending
sleep, stroked my cock casually several times. She
stayed. After a little while, I stroked it several more
times, then waited, then several more times. All the
while my movements were slow and awkward enough so that
I could claim sleep if questioned. Well, this situation
and slow stroking was getting to me and, without trying,
I came. Carol audibly groaned. I was embarrassed and
stayed quite still for the rest of the night. I vowed
never to do that again.
A few nights later I became aware of my sister beside
me. My cock was hard and peeking through my pajamas, as
usual. I determined not to stroke myself and Carol
stayed for a very long time waiting for me to do so.
Suddenly but gently I felt her fingers on my cock. I
couldn't believe it. I didn't know anything could feel
so good. Her touch was light and yet at just the right
spot. Her hand wasn't moving but it didn't need to. I
couldn't help myself and came spontaneously. My jism
went all over her hand. She gently took her hand away
and wiped it on her pajamas.
As I thought back on it later, that night marked a
turning point in our relationship. Always friendly and
co-operative, we now treated each other with some warmth
and tenderness. Carol was much freer with showing me her
body now and made no pretence of modesty. We undressed
in front of each other, if it didn't seem too forced to
do so, and swam naked together in the creek. However,
months had gone by and she had not visited my bedside. I
was disappointed and desperately clung to every instant
of the last time she did. It was my constant
masturbation fantasy.
One night I heard her masturbating and decided to see
just exactly what she was doing. It was a moonless night
so the room was almost pitch black. I carefully lifted
myself from my bed and started to cross the room,
stepping only where I knew the boards did not creak. She
must have heard me anyway because she suddenly stopped.
I froze. After what seemed like an eternity she started
again. I could see movement, but couldn't make out
exactly what was moving. I stepped closer, the
floorboard made a sound, but Carol did not stop this
time.
Finally, I was within three feet of her bed and sat
down. My cock was absolutely rigid and ready to burst
from the tension of the scene. I could barely make out
my sister's arm across her waist and her hand in her
crotch. It was moving up and down and making quite a
slurping sound now. Carol was moaning and quietly
grunting. Well, this was too much and I carefully
lowered myself so I was flat on my back on the floor and
began to stroke myself. I could tell she was going to
come soon and so was I. I decided to time myself so that
we came together. When we did, we dropped all pretence
of being quiet and grunted quite audibly. Hers lasted
longer than mine. I lay there for quite awhile and then
snuck back to bed.
The next morning my sister and I looked at each other
and acknowledged with our eyes the secret we shared. It
was a further deepening of our relationship. A few days
later I was bathing in the creek and was really turned
on. Naked, I lay down on the plush grass and started
stroking myself. It was such a turn-on to feel the sun's
warmth on my balls and to be doing this in the open.
Suddenly I heard a noise in the bush in back of me and
turned around to see Carol emerging and heading straight
for me. I was paralysed.
She gently knelt beside me and without saying a word,
put her hand on my cock, which had started to go soft
from the fright. She stroked it slowly and it sprang to
attention. It felt so good that I lay back and closed my
eyes. It didn't take long for her ministrations to have
the desired result and I came great globs of semen. She
continued to hold my cock until I calmed down some.
Then, without saying a word she got up and started
taking off her clothes. Naked, she lay down beside me
and proceeded to gently pinch her nipples and stroke her
stomach.
I got up on my elbow to watch. She parted her legs
and, for the first time I got a clear view of a girl's
pussy. What a sight! She had bushy sandy brown pubic
hair, very plush pussy lips, a large and erect clit and
she was very wet. Her hand stroked the lips, oh how I
longed to do so, and rubbed up and down on her clit. It
didn't take very long for her to come and as she did,
her whole body tensed and her hips lifted off the
ground. She gradually came down but kept rubbing. Soon
the tension built to another orgasm, then soon
afterward, another. This was incredibly exciting for me
and I was stroking my cock again. About Carol's fourth
orgasm I had my second. We were wild.
That night, as soon as we went to bed, she came over
and knelt beside my bed. She reached into my pajamas and
softly and tentatively held my cock. It got hard
immediately and she started stroking. It felt so good in
spite of my having come twice already today. Before long
I came once again, this time more vehemently than I ever
had before. Afterward, Carol just grazed the head of my
cock with her lips, as if to kiss it goodnight. She
stood and went back to her bed. Before long I heard her
masturbating and went over to her bedside.
I lightly placed my hand on top of hers between her
legs and our hands moved in unison for a while. I wanted
to feel her wetness and so took my hand away and stoked
her inner thigh up to her pussy. My, was she wet and
messy. I explored the many folds of her pussy. She
withdrew her hand and I found her clit and rubbed it the
way I'd seen her do it by the creek. After a while, I
got the hang of it and felt her body tensing for climax.
Her peak was extremely violent also, with her body
arching, teeth clenching, and fists white. When she came
down, I slowly withdrew my hand and silently went back
to bed. This day would be a favourite fantasy for years
to come.
Our sexual relationship continued like this for many
months. Many times we would mutually masturbate down by
the creek or would make each other come at night in our
beds, or just listen to the other masturbate. We knew,
of course, living in the country, that cocks go into
vaginas. We were afraid to try that though for fear of
Carol getting pregnant. My sister was increasingly using
her fingers inside her pussy when she masturbated though
and I longed to put my dick in there. One night, as she
was sitting on my bed stroking my cock she seemed more
turned on than unusual. She stood up and pulled down her
pajamas and said to me, "I just want to try this a
little."
She straddled me with her pussy just above my cock. I
could hardly bare it, waiting for the first feel of a
pussy on my cock. Slowly, too slowly, she lowered
herself and holding my cock, let it just graze her wet
and dripping pussy lips. It felt so good, her hand, her
wetness, her warmth so close to me. She poised there for
what seemed like an eternity, just stroking herself with
my cock. Finally she lowered herself a little and the
head of my cock went inside. I thought I was going to
explode. Carol sensed that and said that I mustn't come.
We remained motionless for a long time. Finally, she
took my cock out and lay down beside me. She proceeded
to stroke herself and I stroked myself. We came
together.
A few days later my sister and I decided to picnic on
top of Thompson's Hill, about a three mile walk from our
cabin. Along the way was a small waterfall and we went
skinny-dipping. The cold water felt good. I was amazed
at how fast Carol's body had changed. Her breasts were
now more than mounds. They actually sagged a little,
although the cold tightened them up and made her nipples
very prominent. She had an explosive growth of hair
between her legs yet her pronounced pussy lips were
clearly visible. We hugged and I gently squeezed her
nipples. They were so cute. We got dressed and proceeded
on our hike. Soon we reached our destination, a clearing
in a dense virgin timber forest on top of Thompson's
Hill. We spread our blanket and ate our lunch.
Afterward, Carol lay with her head in my lap as I
played with her breasts. I said, "Let's get naked,"
which we did with deliberate speed. It was a chilly day
and the sun felt good on our bodies. I rolled on my side
and traced circles on my sister's breast, just outside
the areola. Her nipples were already hard and I lightly
grazed them with my finger tips. I kept doing this for
quite a while, first one nipple, then the other. I was
fascinated with these. They were so responsive. Soon
Carol was moaning almost under her breath. She gently
tugged my hand down over her stomach to the top of her
pubic hair and then to her pussy, which was deliciously
wet. As I ran my finger delicately up the folds of her
pussy and nudged her clitoris she let out a squeak I had
never heard before. Needless to say, I had been hard all
this time and had been against her leg, getting it wet
with my pre-cum.
I made several more strokes up her vagina. She said,
"I can't take it anymore. Come inside me." She opened
her legs more and I got over her and positioned myself
with my cock-head against her pussy. I had never done
this before and my actions were tentative. My cock was
right at her pussy lips and I stayed that way for a long
time. Slowly, an inch at a time I moved forward until my
cock-head was just inside. I moved deeper and slowly
deeper. It was tight but it felt so good. Suddenly I ran
into a wall. I said, "It won't go in anymore." She said,
"Yes, it will. You just have to try harder." This was a
challenge so I thrust with some force now and Carol
cried out in pain. I said, "What happened?" She said, "I
don't know, but don't take it out." We remained in that
position for a long time until I couldn't take it
anymore and started stroking. I was in deep now and
noticed that whenever I thrust all the way in she seemed
to like it. I got in the rhythm of going very deep. I
tried to hold my climax but couldn't and came
explosively.
We stayed locked together for a long time and then I
got soft and withdrew. As I did so, I noticed blood - a
lot of blood - all over her pussy and my cock. I said,
"Carol, look!" She screeched. We thought I had damaged
her. We quickly packed up and she used leaves and grass
to wipe herself. When we got back to the waterfall, she
undressed and washed her pussy. I said, "Does it hurt?"
She said, "A little. but I still liked it."
After that time we made love several more times before
we both went away to school. I became a writer and Carol
became an artist. She married happily and raised three
boys. Much later in life, in our late forties, we talked
about our childhood sex and agreed it had been a
positive experience. Both of us had, partly as a
consequence, had active and fulfilling sex lives. Carol
passed away three years ago and I miss her dearly. I
never got to tell her that she was the most exciting
woman of my life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For your assistance and information.
Common abbreviations used on alt.sex.stories and others
qualifier story to include
________+______________________
aphyx breath control
beast with animals
bon bondage
child non-adult: children
dis discipline
dom domination
enema enema given/received
exhib public exhibition
Fm female dominating male
f or m female or male
ff or F lesbians
forced non-consensual
funny humorous stuff
furry humans with fur
group more than two persons
heavy intense
incest family relations
info information on a topic
mild mild whatever
Mf male dominating female
mm or Mm gays
pedo adult/child
poem poetic material
sm involving pain
teen non adult:teenagers
trans transsexual
vanilla simple male-female
weird very odd
comments? additions? We are trying to build a generic
list and are sure we've left some out...???
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
ANON.PENET.FI
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Following the closure of `anon.penet.fi', the popular
anonymous remailing service, M.C.G. are entertaining the
idea of devoting a proportion of our computer space to
offering a similar service. All transmissions and e-
mail are completely `untouched by human hand' (and eye),
and subscribers to "ELECTRA MAGAZINE" will be e-mailed
with details of how to use the service, should it ever
come about.
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
From our "Case-book" Series of true accounts, run as a
serial on newsgroups, Chapters 1 to 6 of the following
story told of Steven Morris's realisation that his
daughter and son-in-law, with whom he had gone to live,
were incestuously-involved with their daughter, 12 yr-
old Paula, and that as a result, she was running wild.
Matters become further complicated when Steven's
attraction to Pam, his daughter, is sensed by Roger, her
very self-centred husband.
Confronted with either having having to abandon his
daughter to solve her own problems and leave the
household, or to help her, stay and face Roger, Steven
wondrs just what is:
"THE BEST POLICY"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(contd)
"Yesterday, in your bedroom, my mind was on other
things. I never noticed it." There was silence for a
few seconds. Pam's voice was hushed. "I never
realised before, it is so long."
Since moving-into his daughter's home, with so much
sexually-orientated activity: his gathering sexual
desire for Paula; the discovery of incestuous activity;
Paula's near-rape of him; his daughter's sexual
coquettishness and profoundly erotic demand of that
morning; his touching of her body; the developing
intimacy during their riverside stroll, over the weeks,
Steven had been sexually-aroused and, when about to
climax, on so many occasions let down, his penis
permanently semi-hard to the point of ache, the sexual-
spring within him was stretched taut.
He smiled. "It's one of the things God made an
extremely good job of for me. Your mother never
realised it, but it was full of love for her. And now
it is for you." He paused. "If you want it, that
is."
Her head on one side, Pam eagerly looked up at him.
"Can I love it now?"
Low, husky-voiced sexiness dripping from Pam roared
violently into Steven's abdomen and flames suddenly
ignited, dull pain thumping in his genitals. For years
suppressed, incestuous fantasy in his mind had generated
smouldering embers. Fuelled by Pamela's and Paula's
incestuous activities, re-inforced by physical contact
with them, with high-octane energy pouring from his
daughter's now-openly-admitted incestuous desire, a
blow-torch flare of sexual heat sat between his thighs.
If exposed to Pam's touch, Steven knew the sexual-
tension wouldn't last a minute.
Silently, his hand guiding his long penis towards her,
Steven slid the other around Pam's head, coaxing her
towards the bloated, dull-shining head. "Let it love
you instead," he said.
"Will it?" whispered Pam. Face flushed, her eyes
gleaming, her tongue slithered across her lips,
quivering tip protruding as clasping his penis near the
enormous purple-red bell that was his glans, Steven
gently eased her mouth towards it.
Possessed by the life's-desire to sexually-love his
daughter, Steven was beyond excitement; in slow time,
all mental-vision, thought and awareness gone, his sole
focus was the fiery, throbbing pain in his testicles,
channelling the dull ache towards the soft flesh of
Pamela's glistening-red lips as, ready to take him, they
parted.
Apprehensive of its force but eager to gather the life
threatening to detonate within him, sensing his climax
powering, Pam sank lower to the floor, her lips below
the tiny pouting slit at his penis-tip. Well aware of
an inner sense saying she was committing her future to
him, deliberately, her pointed tongue-tip reached up,
delicately caressing bunched nerve-ends.
Muscle, tendon and sinew locking him, his head back,
Steven's eyes bulged. Gripping her father's thighs, his
buttocks pushed towards her, Pamela felt an unhurried
spill of white sperm arc into her filling mouth.
Steven's smooth, tangy semen flowing across her tongue
in a steady, oily stream, a brilliant light shimmered in
Pam's mind. Spinning in her womb, surging up into her
soaring heart, intensely exciting realisation struck;
she was feeding at the fountainhead of her own genesis,
tasting the origin of her own conception.
Her mouth swiftly filled, loops of milky secretion
dribbling over her lips and cheek as Pam's probing
tongue urgently reached for its source. Eyes closed in
blissful ecstasy, her breath catching, she slowly
swallowed.
Holding herself stock-still, her larynx closing, Pam
waited the last slippery-deliverance to drip into her
open mouth. Licking her lips clean, relishing the
cold/warm sensation as she swallowed again, with a small
sigh, her eyes flicked open. Holding Steven's gaze for
a second, she suddenly caught hold of his sagging penis,
and kissing it, buried her head in his lap. "Oh, Dad,"
she whispered. "That was beautiful. I felt it flow
right down in me, right into my heart." Her eyes
moist, she looked up at him again. "Paula was right,
having her Daddy's love come into her would make any
girl happy. It was just as I always hoped it would
be".
His eyes smiling, Steven gently stroked her hair. "I
wish now we had done that years ago. Things would have
been so different." Expectantly, his eyes opened wide
as he looked at her. "Doing that felt wonderful."
Pam smiled. "Mummy didn't know what she was
missing," she said. "The first of many?" They knew
something profound had happened, that within them, one
door had firmly shut and another opened wide. Replaced
by a future as warm and intimate as they wished it to
be, past days of distance and strain between them had
passed. Chased away by the warmth exuding from the
good-looking man sitting opposite her, Pam suddenly
realised the image she'd held of her father had gone,
replaced by a strong feeling of friendship, covered in
healthy lust, wrapped up in his want for her. Inside
her, sufficient to make what she'd just experienced
produce sexy-twinges of illicit-fun, daughterly-love for
her father remained, but most had been replaced by a
strong glow of adult happy love of the man. With an
inner shiver of excitement, a little seepage of fluid
trickled from her vagina.
Giving her a swift kiss as he helped her to her feet,
Steven looked at her. "The first of many."
Delight and deep satisfaction in letting Steven's
penis fill her mouth suddenly tingled through Pam's
belly and breasts. Gasping at the moral-enormity of
the realisation, for an instant, her imagination
elatedly cherished the powerful, sexy image of being
pinned beneath his naked body, her legs locked round
her father's back, and her heart squeezing, she
visualised feeling that fantastically long penis bury
itself deep into her womb, squirting in her. Her heart
skipping a beat, Pam suddenly knew she was in love with
him. Involuntarily clamping her thighs together under
the table as she closed her eyes, her stomach
shudderingly clenched as her cervix thrilled.
Shaking her head to clear it, Pam's eyes opened to
find Steven looking at her, a grin on his face. "Has
another of those `positive benefits' just turned up?",
he knowingly enquired.
"Yes." Momentarily, Pam felt sheepishly embarrassed,
then, reliving the sensation, her shoulders going back,
squarely catching her father's gaze, she straightened
up. "Yes," she said emphatically. "And I like it
very much."
* ** *
A little later, thoroughly recovered and at ease with
each other, as always, the conversation reverted to
Paula. Pam sighed. "One of the difficulties of the
way of life in this house is that, to Roger, in all
other things except his sex-life, Paula comes second.
All the time he wants to screw her, she can do as she
wishes, but if ever he lost interest in her body - which
he wont - he'd simply see her as his daughter, expecting
her to revert back to being an obedient 12 year-old,
doing as her father tells her, when he tells her!
"That is going to be the difficult thing to contend
with. Suppose, knocking at the door of love, she
suddenly grows up, only to realise her father is only
interested in fucking her?"
Steven shrugged his shoulders. "Eventually, she must
do. Even more reason this is the time to give her the
real thing." He glanced at Pam, sorrowful that lines
of concern had re-appeared on her face. "If it is done
properly, she'll think it the best thing she has ever
had. You appreciate what it can do for you; do you
think she will be able to overcome her own shortcomings
once she has found out how love really feels?"
Pam made a face. "Not yet, she is getting it all
from Roger." She looked keenly at Steven. "If you
take a part in things, what if she tells him?"
"Only mild consternation. Roger cannot say too much,
only bluster." Steven smiled to himself. "All that
rubbish of yesterday about people in the house trusting
each other! The only person Roger trusts is himself!
Eventually, he'll kick himself for letting incest become
the family way of life. Until then, he'll revel in the
good things and let Paula run his life. All the time
she is doing that, she will want it to carry on. I
fear dear Roger is working himself into a very tight
corner."
Later, preparing the evening meal, Pam stood at the
cooker. Suddenly, she called over her shoulder.
"Dad?"
"Yes." Over the top of his newspaper, Steven
regarded her.
Turning towards him, Pam leant against the sink-
drainer. "If I were to leave Roger, how would you feel?"
A pleasing mental flash of a possible future rolled in
his stomach as Steven said, "Half of me would be
unhappy, and the other half would be very pleased.
Why, are you thinking of it?"
"I'm thinking about it, not of it. But things could
go either way, and I like to be prepared. Why would
you be happy about it?"
Steven thought, "Because you'd have a chance of a
fresh start, you'd be happier. Marriage is only any
good if all the people in it are happy. With your
situation with Paula, and Roger and Paula, and Roger and
you, well, it must be like living in a strait-jacket."
"It is", said Pam emphatically. "I'm very rapidly
realising what I have been missing-out on. All the
wealth in the world doesn't buy peace of mind, and I've
been so long without it, I'm just realising I've
forgotten what it feels like."
Steven sniffed. "It's the same position in which
your mother and I found ourselves. If trust has gone,
everything else slowly and surely falls apart. Once it
starts, there is nothing anyone can do about it."
Unhappily recalling the empty days without Pamela, he
stared absent-mindedly into space.
After a few moments, Pamela asked, "Assuming Roger
and I split up, where would you go?"
Steven smiled reassuringly at her. "Don't worry
about that. I would find somewhere."
"Would you come and live with us?
For all the warm, easy swell of hope within him,
Steven knew he must divorce himself from the equation of
everything he might wish for, and concentrate on what
was best for his daughter. And grand-daughter! "That
could be difficult," he replied.
"Why?" asked Pamela promptly.
Very methodically, Steven carefully folded his
newspaper and laid it on the table. "You've made it
very clear what you want of me and I could very easily
be induced into saying I want the same.
"But Paula's presence complicates things. All plans
to bring her back to earth to one side, there is still
the little thing that she is into sexual relationships
within her family. With you, her and I under the same
roof, who knows to where it would lead?"
"I already thought of that, before I asked you. We
know damned well where it would lead." Pam looked at
him evenly. "I'm not a fool, Dad. Whilst I could say
`whatever will be, will be' and leave everything to
Destiny, in our circumstances, certain things are almost
foregone conclusions.
"But even at its very worst, I'd be happier knowing
you were helping me to raise Paula than Roger; at least
I'd know whatever was going on, someone was doing it for
her happiness and not their own."
"That's very true. So would I", said Steven.
"Seeing that it closely involves her, we could always
see what Paula thought of the idea."
Pam smiled and nodded her head.
"I'll sound her out, if your wish," said Steven.
"But before I do, you have to clearly understand and be
happy to accept the possibilities. You know what she
will want? And very probably how it will have to be?"
Pamela pursed her lips. "With all these divided
loyalties, it's complicated, isn't it? Why can't
anything be simple? Everything is so insecure. No-
one can make a clear decision or get on with anything
enjoyable without wondering whether Roger will
manipulate it for his own ends. And just to ensure he
can still fuck her whenever he wishes, drag Paula along
behind him!" She clutched the edge of the sink. "Oh,
I wish to God I'd stopped Paula and Roger before it even
started! Everything went wrong from then! I hate
this existence! It's not real-life, it's so - so -
miserable!"
Hearing the unhappiness in her voice, as his
daughter's tears started to flow, starting from his
chair, Steven caught hold of her. Quelling his
resentment for Roger, towering above her and lifting her
chin, he caught her tear-bright gaze. "That's not fair
on you," he said reprovingly. "Roger had seduced Paula
long before you ever knew about it. You've become
caught in the back-wash, that's all.
"An unhappy marriage is more than any wife and mother
should be asked to endure, and this is one with the very
distasteful side of the after-effects of incest thrown
in for good measure. Now dry your eyes." As Pam
sniffed, he went on, "You are about three-quarters of
the way home. Have a lot of faith, see it through and
everyone will come out of it quite happily, you'll see."
Mentally crossing his fingers, he thought, `Except
Roger. But then, he did make the running'.
* ** *
After dinner, before the family settled down for the
evening, Steven adjourned to his bedroom to think.
Earlier, Paula and her father had returned from Roger's
office and the meal had been eaten in subdued silence.
Nothing had been said by anyone, but a deaf person could
have detected strain and undercurrents of tension in the
atmosphere. Particularly avoiding meeting her mother's
eyes, Paula had scarcely spoken to Steven, whilst Roger,
something on his mind making him look red-faced and
angry, had stared into space.
Deeply immersed in his daughter's problems, Steven
hardly heard the gentle tap on the bed-room door, and
Paula was in the room before he really realised it.
Wearing a button-through grey-and-white dress with a
slim belt at the waist, her long fair-hair hanging
loosely around her shoulders, Paula's usual bounce and
vitality was missing, and sitting on the edge of the
bed, she unhappily gazed down at her feet as they swung
in space. Steven left her to make the running of
conversation. Finally breaking the silence, she said,
"I don't think Daddy likes you any more, Grandad. He
wants you to leave."
`So Roger has read chapter two', thought Steven.
"And do you want that?", he asked Paula.
"No! I want everything to be as it was before you
came here," said Paula. "But I want you to be part of
it and not have to leave."
"And who would be happy if I went?", asked Steven.
Paula's slim shoulders slumped. "Only Daddy," she
said. "Mummy is very happy you are here and so am I.
I don't understand. Why isn't Daddy?"
Feeling a 12 year-old shouldn't know so much, so soon,
seeing his grand-daughter's troubled face, propping
himself up on one elbow and picking his words carefully,
Steven turned towards her. "Because until I turned up
on the scene, your father had Mummy and you all to
himself", he said gently. "Roger was happy he could
go to bed with you or your mother anytime he wanted, but
now he is not too sure. Probably, he feels he might
lose you and her, that everything could suddenly change.
And that he might not be happy with the results."
Paula's oval face flushed pink with indignation.
"But why? If he can fuck me when he wants to, why
can't Mummy and I do the same? That's not fair!"
"Because in your father's mind, Mummy is still his
wife. And you are still only a 12 year-old daughter."
Steven's tone was soothing. "Maybe not Roger, but
other husbands and fathers are happy to think they rule
the roost, that the women and girls must do as they
say."
Paula thoughtfully investigated a mark on her shoe.
"Mmm, Daddy's like that too. When we are together, he
makes me do things because he likes it. Mummy does
things to me as well, but they are the things I like.
Daddy never does!"
As a downcast grand-daughter swung her heels against
the side of the bed, Steven suddenly wanted to comfort
the insecure adolescent she was. "When we were
talking yesterday, I told you there was a power of
difference between sex and love. Perhaps that is the
difference."
Paula looked forlorn. "Daddy never does anything I
like. He says we `make love', and that it is good for
me and will help make me a better girl when I grow up.
But it feels different somehow." Looking at Steven from
under shy eye-lashes, she asked, "Can I tell you a
secret, Grandad?"
Swinging his legs to the floor, Steven sat up on the
bed and put his arm round Paula's shoulders. He
nodded. "Of course."
Feeling guilty she might be breaking faith with her
father, Paula hesitated. "When Daddy puts his thing in
me, sometimes it hurts. Really hurts, I mean. And
when I ask him to stop, most times he doesn't."
Seeking comfort, she suddenly slipped an innocent arm
round Steven's waist. He gave her a squeeze. "Then
that's a downright shame. When people who love each
other are making love, they make each other happy.
They never ever hurt each other."
With a slight frown, Paula contemplated this
proposition. "Do you mean people do it for fun,
Grandad? Make love, I mean."
Astounded that something so fundamental had been kept
from Paula and unexpectedly foreseeing a great, yawning
abyss opening up in front of Roger, and unless he was
careful, the possibility of falling into it himself,
Steven mind ruled his heart. Postponing giving her a
text-book lecture on the deeper significance of loving
another person, he decided on another approach. "Why,
isn't it fun when you make love to Roger?"
"Sometimes. I like doing it, but quite often, I feel
as though Daddy's doing it to me because I'm his
daughter, and not because it is me, Paula." Sharing
another confidence, Paula's confused face looked at
Steven. "He's told me he doesn't like doing it to
Mummy any more. That's another reason why I hoped you
would love her."
Even more understanding Pamela's desperate request of
the morning as a cry for help, Steven inwardly seethed.
During the two weeks he had been under Roger and
Pamela's roof, how could he have been so blind? So
good was the face of the happy family they presented to
the world, not one clue had revealed itself that Pamela
was so unhappy or that Paula was anything but a normal
happy, bright, developing young woman. "So when you
are with your father, what happens?" he asked.
"It depends where we are", answered Paula. "If we go
to his office, he makes me lay on the floor. Or I have
to sit on his desk and then he does it to me there.
Here at home, he usually comes in to see me before he
goes to bed. That's when I like it best."
"Why's that?", enquired Steven.
"Because Daddy isn't in so much of a rush. Even at
week-ends, when everyone is at home, if we are at his
office, he's always worried that someone will come in.
And if we go out into the country and do it in his car,
he's forever looking to see if someone is looking. I
think it makes him hurry, because that's when he hurts
me the most."
"And when you are at home...?"
"It is usually OK, but if Daddy thinks Mummy is not
happy, when they have had a row, he tries to do
everything quickly and get back to her. But sometimes,
he just doesn't care and stays with me all night."
Paula's voice became unhappy again. "Sometimes, I can
hear Mummy crying, and it makes me sad. I don't like
those times at all." She gave a little involuntary
shiver.
"And does that happen often?", asked Steven.
"Not so much now, but when Mummy found out Daddy and I
were doing it, they had lots of arguments. I always
knew, because those times, Daddy would be rougher with
me and it hurt more."
"How do you mean, rougher with you?"
"Normally, at home, when Daddy wants to do me, he
makes me undress and then puts it in me." Paula looked
at Steven. "His thing, you know." Steven nodded.
"When we are anywhere else, I just have to take my
knickers down. Daddy likes it when I do that, but I
have to do it very slowly. He usually has his thing
out and then he puts it in me. But when he is upset
about something, he sort of pulls my knickers down and
does it."
"And is it like that every time?", asked Steven.
"Mostly. In the beginning, when it all began, we'd
lay on the bed and I'd stroke him. Then he showed me
how to suck his thing. When Mummy started coming to
bed with us, it got to be very nice, all gentle and
lovey. She showed me ways of making Daddy very
excited, but that seemed to make him do everything much
faster. But now, Mummy doesn't join in."
"And does your Daddy ever make you feel lovey, or
cuddle you?"
"Sometimes, but not often. If we are out somewhere,
after he has come, we normally come straight home. And
if we are here, he tells me I need to go to sleep or
that Mummy might make trouble and he goes back into
their bedroom."
"Does Daddy ever love you?"
Paula looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Does he ever cuddle you or kiss you. Or make you
feel happy?"
"No. I mean, I feel happy if he feels happy."
Paula thought about it. "Is that what you mean?
Steven was forming a picture of Roger severely
overlooking parts of his daughter's education. "When
most other girls are making love, their lover goes out
of his way to make them feel warm and happy and lovely.
"How do you mean?" Paula's interest was piqued.
"There's lots of kisses and cuddling. Being stroked
and touching each other." Steven grinned at her.
"It's known as `getting in the right mood'.
Paula's slim shoulders gave a small shrug. "Daddy
kisses me some times. I like that, but what does the
mood feel like?"
"Lovely. Soft and pleasant. Making love is a
lovely thing, for both people. Or it should be. It
becomes very dreamy and romantic. Didn't you know
that?
"No. I've seen people on films and the television
doing things like that and wondered what it feels like.
Daddy doesn't do that to Mummy, and he has never shown
me." Steven could see the gears working. "Will you
make me feel like that, Grandad?" Paula's earnest eyes
pleaded with him. "Please!"
"Oh, my poor little Paula." said Steven
sympathetically. "All this time, you have been left
out of the best part of love-making. Let's see if we
can't put that right for you."
As Steven gently eased her back to lay on the bed,
her eyes opening wide, Paula said in a trembling voice,
"Don't hurt me, Grandad. I don't want it to hurt me
any more."
"Never, my little love. Never ever." Swallowing
the trace of a lump in his throat, Steven determined to
eradicate Paula's uncomfortable memories of sex. "Just
relax and let things happen."
Very pensive, sombre grey eyes looking into his, Paula
didn't move as Steven's hand started to gently stroke
around her face, smoothing over her ears and shoulders.
As signs of sexual arousal flushed her neck, after a
little, her eyes closed, her breathing quickening as she
felt Steven's hands gently slide down the material of
her dress, his fingers deftly undoing the top buttons.
As his hand slid across her slight breast, staring
earnestly into Steven's face, Paula's fawn-like eyes
flashed open as he quietly kissed her hair and forehead
but continually kissing her, undoing the buttons one by
one, he felt her respond as his fingers slid between the
layers of material, brushing her skin.
Gently running his hand in small circles, becoming
aroused himself as he saw her clear skin stretching away
in front of him, Steven eased the dress open. Her
eyes closed again, Paula suddenly curled an arm around
his neck, and drawing him down to her lips, dreamily
murmured "I love you, Grandad."
"I know, Paula, I love you too. Very much",
whispered Steven. "Just relax and let the lovely
things happen. Let it flow along." She gave a
little nod and quietly sighed.
Smoothly undoing the thin leather belt, the final
button giving way to a swift twist, Steven delicately
laid back the sides of the grey-and-white dress,
Encased in a white, girlish-brassiere, Paula's forming
breasts evenly rose and fell with her breathing, the
outline of small nipples clearly showing arousal. His
fingers slowly walking a path towards the thin elastic
strip of white bikini-briefs, feeling Paula stir beneath
him as his tongue touched the warm skin of the arch
below her breast-bone, he licked her. "Everything's
OK, Paula. Just let things happen and enjoy it.
Let's see if we can show you what this thing called
love-making can be like."
Concern in her voice, Paula asked, "Are you going to
do me like Daddy does, Grandad?"
Steven smiled down at her. "No, my love. I'm going
to make love to you." From the corner of his eye,
still with her eyes closed, he saw Paula relax and give
a slow smile. "Yes, please, Grandad. I'd like that."
"Then lay still. You'll like it very much."
Deliberately spending a long time licking the gentle
depression around her dimpled navel, his tongue working
round in circles, Steven slowly traced a path down
Paula's body. As the minutes slid by, her breathing
becoming easier and easier, her body only moving as his
hands caressed the exposed flesh, his thumbs touching
each other as they gently slid along the line of her
lower ribs, then to glide up to caress the lobe of her
breasts.
Taking his time, feeling Paula completely entranced by
the silky warmth growing within her, his fingers now
constantly touching and stroking her breasts, Steven
discreetly slid from the bed, kneeling on the thick,
comfortable carpet. Still stroking Paula's body,
leaning forward, he gently licked her knees.
Surprised, Paula momentarily stiffened and then, to his
joy, her legs partly opened.
His nostrils filled with the aroma of excitement,
working up and down one leg and then moving to the
other, Steven slowly kissed and cat-licked the inside of
Paula's thighs. With eyes fixed on the alluring,
sharply-contoured cleft only six inches from him,
gradually easing closer to her vulva with every slide
forwards, her legs gradually parted. As his nose
brushed against the damp-stained white material of her
briefs, under his still-caressing hands, her body giving
a little wriggle, Paula heaved a big sigh of
contentment. "That's nice, Grandad."
Unobtrusively, his tongue and lips coursing the length
of her thigh, as her white abdomen gently rose and fell
with her breathing, Steven's fingers hooked in the
elastic of Paula's knickers. Brushing his tongue-tip
around the backs of her knees and along the top of her
long legs, quietly tugging, first one side and then the
other, he began to ease them over her slender hips,
until, tightly stretched between her legs, the wet-mark
on the gusset showing starkly, they were clear of her
body. Moving back on his heels, casting them and her
shoes onto the floor in one slow flowing movement, he
slid them over her ankles.
After the momentary disturbance, of their own accord,
Paula's slim legs drew apart, and massaging her body, on
hearing a little gasp, Steven smiled to himself as he
realised she had been holding her breath as he removed
her underwear. Dry tongue steadily slithering across
her thigh up towards her vulva, sliding his arms under
her legs, he laid them across his shoulders. Framed by
the slight suggestion of downy light-brown hair,
revealing the fan-shaped dewy-silveryness of her
glistening labia lips, Paula's legs were opened wide.
Reaching across her white thighs, readily parting
under Steven's gently-prising fingers, her inner-lips
opened. Peering whitely from its sheath, betraying her
excitement, Paula's clitoris slowly pulsed, whilst
trembling as though alive, red-coloured filmy skin
shimmered at the mouth of her moist, dark vagina.
His reaching hand constantly roaming her breasts and
belly, Steven felt Paula's whimpering breath quickening
as, eyes tightly-closed, she started to pant.
In one long, slow deliberate wet lick, his tongue
glided over the apex of her legs, and as Steven's nose
slid across the face of her clitoris, his grand-
daughter's buttocks naturally rose towards him. Of a
sudden, his long, pointed tongue firmly but gently
probed the puckered bud of her anus. Paula squealed,
her body arching as his tongue rapidly slid upwards, her
clitoris slipping into his mouth. Clamping it firmly
between his lips, his tongue flicking its beaded-tip, it
swelled, lengthening until it was touching his teeth.
Letting go, pulling her slim hips towards him, his
nostrils rubbed against her clitoris as his tongue
scathed the intensely sensitive skin of her birth-canal.
As Paula's body began to jerk and squirm, Steven sucked
and licked, kissing and chewing her vagina. Her knees
swinging to one side and then the other, frenziedly
looking to escape the mounting torment, her buttocks
bouncing on the bed, Paula's hand tried to push his head
away, but firmly grasping her hips, remorselessly
licking, mouth glued to her clitoris, Steven's tongue
stayed in her. Cramming his mouth against the smooth
gaping flesh of her vaginal-wound, he sucked loose folds
into his mouth, tongue sliding round them as more and
more innocent softness entered him. Suddenly, her will
succumbing, her buttocks rising as she drew her knees
towards her breasts, Paula offered her vagina to his
mouth. Knowing he'd mastered her, slipping a hand
between her legs and cupping her buttocks, Steven raised
her open genitals to his lips. Driving his tongue
deeply into her, his thumb felt for her excited
clitoris. As it tried to elude him, feeling it nudge
her pelvic arch, pressing down on it, he began a
remorseless attack. Under the cruelly-rhythmic rub,
rub, rub, Paula's body again began to writhe and buck,
her head twisting from side to side. gasps of breath
coming from her open mouth. Beneath his sucking
lips, running into his swallowing mouth in a steady
pouring, her already-trickling bitter-sweet vaginal
fluid began to spurt.
Suddenly, pulling Steven even closer, her hands
sliding round the back of his head, Paula sat up.
Tongue buried deep in her fleshy vagina, snuffling for
breath as soft, slim thighs clamped his head, realising
Paula was near climax, Steven exhaled deeply. Dragging
his imprisoned finger free, linking hands round her
buttocks and pulling her tight onto his mouth, slowly
engulfing her clitoris and flimsy labia lips, he began
to exert suction. As the vacuum deepened, a whining
gurgle came from Paula's throat as she strove to push
her vagina deeper into Steven's wide-open mouth.
Wildly rocking backwards and forwards, grinding her wet
belly on him, her pelvic bone knockingly-jarred against
him. His teeth sinking into soft flesh, suddenly tasting
blood, Steven sucked harder as gasping and crying,
tearing at his hair and ears, legs locked around his
neck, Paula clung to him.
Mouth wildly sucking gasps of air, head flung
forwards, long fair-hair cascading over her perspiring,
flushed face, mewing and grinding her teeth, her juice
freely flowing onto Steven's lapping-tongue, like a sky-
rocket exploding, Paula came.
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"THE DOORS TO GAYLE'S FUTURE"
Conclusion
~~~~~~~~~~
For some weeks, there was no evidence even that Gayle
was alive. Expecting as she did I'd be away for two
months, I was foolish to even expect to hear from her,
and not wishing to rake over hot coals, decided my self-
inflicted exile was all for the best.
Life continued as it always will, and to keep myself
amused, I killed the long, miserable hours by reading
all the library could find concerning people's
experiences and philosophies on life after death, fate
and destiny. Sometimes reading well into the night,
acutely aware of loneliness around me, wondering how I'd
ever got myself in this position when deliberating on
some point, I'd find myself staring into space for long
periods of time. Fearful of Gayle's hurt or
embarrassment should I do so, and in any case,
completely devoid of any desire to find other female
company, the days crawled by.
Of the subject of which I was constantly reading, I
knew much more than I had, but was no nearer to finding
any answer than when I had commenced my research.
However, reading of many experiences similar to mine I
came to accept the mental `light' was inherently `good'.
Exampled by `dark forces' or `dark deeds', when the
`powers of darkness' were supposed to be about, as
opposed to `dark', anything `light' - light-heartedness,
light-spirited, even unto the expressions `I saw the
light' or `light dawned on me' - could only be used in
the context of good being done, positive happiness
created or the furthering of education or experience.
Somehow deeply relieving concern in me, I was happy to
finally and unquestioningly accept the strange feelings
I'd experienced were all for Gayle's happiness and
health.
Affording the opportunity of having something other
than Gayle to think about, seriously contemplating
taking a job of work to occupy the time, tax laws being
as they are and it radically affecting Gayle's
investment income should I do such a thing, I was
strongly advised against it, and another avenue along
which to steer my mind closed off to me.
Far from walking through open doors of Fate, it
placing my life in abeyance through refusing to budge,
I'd somehow walked right into this one. Undermining
everything as my leaden heart became heavier, never for
one moment wanting or needing Gayle any less but
believing as the saying goes, `I could live with it',
still positively regarding my decision as being
fundamentally correct, I was desperately unhappy.
Stumped and seeking respite from emotional heart-ache,
I sought out mediums, clairvoyants and others of similar
ilk, and nothing making sense, therefore never believing
a word of what I was told, apart from convincing me
there were some very peculiar people abroad in the
world, such encounters only managed to produce
confusion. Guided by such perfect morality and legal
correctness, how could I feel so mentally-strained and
spiritually-dispirited? Why had something so
punctiliously-right turned so unhappily-wrong?
Gradually, a step forward on the path to Wisdom, I
learnt enough to realise how little I knew.
But this wasting of time being all very well, said
Fate, I ordain the opening of another door!
Travelling by train to London one day, sitting beside
me, I can still recall every word of the conversation
when a complete stranger suddenly said "Excuse me for
asking, but are you by any chance a student of the
Second World War?"
Having nothing better to do for two hours or so and
the man looking completely innocuous and nondescript,
deciding anything was better than being trapped in my
own unhappiness, I replied, "No. Why do you ask?"
A short, lean man, the fellow smiled. "This
sometimes happens. Often when in the company of other
people, I sense things, or pick up what is on their
mind. Forgive me, but are you sure there is no
connection with the last war?" He sat forward. "I
have this picture of British aircraft of that time.
Hurricanes, Tempests, Typhoons; they were the names of
some of them." He seemed to think for a moment. "Or
have you been attached to any kind of Navy? The Royal
Navy? Or the Merchant Marine? Any service which
would have to accept extreme weather conditions, such as
those named hurricanes and tempests?"
Shaking my head, I said "No, not at all." Beginning
to think the man odd, that would have been the end of
our conversation, save for him suddenly snapping his
fingers and saying, "Gale, that's the connection.
Gale!"
Heart racing and now riveted to my seat, I cautiously
asked, "Well, what about it?"
Observing my sudden interest, the man sat back in his
seat. "Ah, then it is right." Abruptly sitting up,
he went on, "Forgive me again, please. It would all be
much simpler if the words came in direct terms, but
these things usually have to be deciphered. I was
looking at the names rather than the weather conditions
they describe. Yes, that is it!"
My heart was at explosion level. "Well, what about
it?" I repeated, tersely.
"Let's see", the man said. "Young, bright, walking."
His brow furrowing, he frowned. "But only just." He
stared at me. "How very confusing! A young girl who
should be skipping around, but who for some reason seems
incapable of doing so. But then, suddenly can! Lots
of surprise and amazement around her." His voice
became concerned. "Oh, suddenly, there is lots of
unexpected grief." Looking harassed, he gazed out of
the window. "Must be something wrong, perhaps it is
me."
"Your right on target so far", I said grimly.
Desperately, I looked at him. "What else? Please,
tell me." Embarrassed, my voice dropped. "It's very
important to me."
For some moments watching the scenery speed by, the
man continued looking out of the window. When he
looked back, his whole demeanour had changed. A
serious look on his face, the hair on the back of my
neck standing up as his eyes looked into mine, I knew
he knew; every little detail, the past, the present, of
Gayle and me!
Searching for the right words, the man coughed
nervously. "It's my experience that in this world,
love overcomes everything, even good common sense. And
that once led by their emotions, people find themselves
doing the most extraordinary things."
His face completely bland, the man lit a cigarette.
"But once certain things are done or said, there can be
no going back, there is nothing else to do but to see
them through to their natural, normal conclusion.
Having gone through the door, it must be played out to
the end." Fighting down an impatient urge to tear it
from his lips as he drew on his cigarette, I let him
exhale. He looked at the cigarette's glowing tip.
"What is started, must be seen through. You became
committed a long time ago, and you must see what is at
the end of the path. Not for your sake, but for the
sake of - er - shall we say, the young lady.
"For whatever reason, people cannot break ties of
love. They try, but they only hurt themselves. To
suit yourself, you've tried to bend love, or stop it
still and you're reaping the harvest of the whirlwind
you've created. You lost sight of the truth and
deviated from the path. You are extremely unhappy."
Any fool could see that. I bit my lip in anxiety.
"What should I do?"
His eyes crinkling, the man smiled kindly. Leaning
towards me, he said in a quiet voice. "Believe me,
there is only one thing to do." Seeing the imploring
look on my face, his face compassionate, he said, "Go
back and put it right!
"But how?", I exclaimed in frustration. "I thought I
had."
"Never!", the man replied, shaking his head.
"Anything which makes love unhappy, makes God unhappy.
Whoever she is, she deserves better of you, the girl is
love, and neither she nor you are ever going to be able
to get on with life until bridges have been built. Go
and put it right, cast your Fate to the winds and see
what happens." His voice became firm. "In this day
and age, it sounds trite, but please believe me, it is
nevertheless true! This situation is above people,
this is a matter of Destiny. However it looks, the
core of what you have created is very, very right!
There is only one more door through which you have to
go. Thereafter, whatever there is between you, you'll
be creating it in your own time, your own future as you
go along."
Smiling, he leant back again. "So go to her, and
whatever you have to do - ", the break catching my
attention, I saw his eyebrows raise, " - mind you,
whatever you have to do, make sure you do it. Blow
everything else!
"Have lots of faith! There is no danger, and save
from your own mind, no problems!" He looked at me in a
strange way. "Although you seem to already have had
ample proof of that. Do you know a medical person, one
who is blind, by the way?" Thinking of Gayle,
bewildered by the sudden question, as I shook my head,
the words of Gayle's Ward Sister, who'd seen everything,
yet seen nothing, came to mind. No danger, except what
had been in my mind. "No, but I believe I know to what
you are referring."
"Good", said the man, smiling. "Now you know what to
do." Relaxing, he smiled. "I must say, it sounds very
simple."
Great feelings of light-heartedness milled around
inside me, and for the first time in weeks, I actually
grinned. "Yes, it does, doesn't it? And I'm going to
do it!" Struck by a thought, I asked, "Please, is
there anything else you can tell me."
The man pursed his lips. "No, not really. The
words, the pictures, whatever manner by which the
information turns up, it's gone now." As I began to
relax, he puffed his cigarette. "Hold on though!"
Excited and although at that moment, the fellow could
have sold me Hyde Park, icy fingers slithered up my
spine and an electric buzz rippled across my shoulders
as, looking directly at me, he said, "I hear a very
happy cat."
Game, set and match, I gave in. Desiring to give a
Cheshire-Cat beam of my own to everyone around me, as I
planned my next move, the train started to slow for the
next station. Leaning towards me, the man smiled. "If
I were you, I'd think about getting out here."
Glancing out of the window to fix my bearings, I asked
"Why?"
The man grinned. "Well, this train goes to London,
which is east. She is behind you, westwards."
Three minutes later, hurrying through the subway to
catch my connection, it occurred to me I hadn't even
asked the man his name.
** * **
Save for a small lamp glowing in the sitting-room, the
house was in darkness. If everything had gone as
planned, Grand-mother had returned home the previous
week, and peering through the front window, although the
television-set flickered, there was no sign of Gayle.
A quick inspection proving her car still in the garage,
positive she couldn't have gone far and taking a
chance, I set off up the lane. Reaching the top of the
cliff, searching around in the darkening twilight, I was
unable to find her until just about to leave, I heard
the scrunch of a stone being disturbed. Following the
noise and clambering down towards the cliff-edge,
sitting on a large rock, I saw her.
Hearing my approach, recognising me in the twilight
but saying nothing as she turned, watching the sea
tumbling below, Gayle looked away. Sitting alongside
her and slipping my arm round her waist, I felt her
stiffen.
What I wanted to say wouldn't form properly, and for a
long while, we just sat there. Finally, I could only
express what kept coming to mind. "Gayle, I so
tremendously sorry."
Picking up a small stone and tossing it over the
cliff edge, Gayle watched it bounce and ricochet to hit
the sea below before replying in a flat, tired voice.
"That's OK, Daddy. There's no need to be. You did
what any father would have done. It made me want to get
better, so I suppose it was worth it." She sniffed.
"There's no hard feeling, I love you just the same."
"But I told you lies," I persisted. "Whatever the
circumstances, I shouldn't have done that. I'm very
sorry."
"Why be?" asked Gayle, her voice subdued. "What's
the point? For me, it was a lovely dream for many
years, it gave me something to work for. And on the
bad days, something to hold onto. Why be sorry?" she
repeated.
"Because...", I started. Suddenly tremendously
fatigued, I had to concentrate hard. "...Because to me,
it was as real as it was for you. Everything I did to
you, it became more and more right. It felt good, it
felt almost perfect." I shrugged helplessly. "It was
just - well, right, I suppose."
Scepticism in her eyes, Gayle looked at me. "It was
right for us then? Or feels right for you now?"
"No", I said quickly. "It's wrong for me now,
everything. That's why I've had to see you. To try
to put it right. To say sorry."
Disinterestedly, Gayle looked out to sea. "Well, you
have. So everything's happy again." After a long
pause, she whispered in a forlorn voice, "I've sat here
every evening. Waiting for you to come."
I was startled. "What made you think I would? I
didn't know myself until this morning."
"Fate," Gayle murmured. "When people have got
something going as strong as we had, it cannot be
stopped just like that, it has to work out somewhere.
Mummy said everything would work out right, that I'd be
very happy in the future with the man of my dreams."
Staring ahead of her, as though she'd just run a
marathon, Gayle's breath suddenly caught. Sounding
strangled, her words ran together as beginning to choke,
she said, "But you were the man, Daddy; I dreamed of
you! Night after night."
Gayle's voice became miserably tight. "Now I can't
go forward, I cannot change the past...I'm all empty and
hung-up and there's no point in anything any more.
You don't want me...and I can't be happy until you work
out of me...but unless you want me, you never will,
there isn't a way..." Tears began to freely stream, her
sentences punctuated by gasps and heaving sobs. "...for
my love to work itself out, and I'm going to...start
crying in a moment and I don't ever cry because...it's
me feeling sorry for myself...and I've no right to feel
that because...oh, Daddy, can't you see!..."
Grizzling, sobbing misery reached its peak as my darling
Gayle whispered, "...I'm so in love with you and I'm a
very unhappy girl...and it was all for nothing..."
Breaking her heart, Gayle collapsed against my
shoulder. Unable to think of anything to help her,
feeling utterly futile, I silently sat there as she
cried herself out. Unseeing, her head in her hands,
Gayle gazed at the ground as the tears fell, and they
were all of my creation. There could be little left
for life to throw at her and at every stage of the game,
she had buckled to, applied herself and beaten the odds
without tears of self-pity. She hadn't wanted to walk,
she'd wanted to walk for me! By itself, that she was
sitting alongside me was a testament to her courage:
that she had walked even two yards to get there was
monumental achievement; that she could walk at all made
people want to cry.
Then there was me. Safely tucked behind a blind
faith which told me something would turn up to solve my
problem for me, day by day, just blimping along with
things, happily thinking it was for the best and
writing everything difficult or unhappy-making off to
`let's see what happens'. "It was all lies", I said
absent-mindedly.
Sniffing, Gayle reached out and took my hand. "I
know, but you meant well."
"No, I meant the things I told myself. Did I mean
well? And if so, for who?" I sat up. "So busy
doing what was best for you sounds good, but it was
nothing of the sort. All the time, it was giving you
what I wanted to give, not what you wanted to have. It
was rubbish! If it was all right for you, it was all
right for me, but only providing I agreed with it. But
that's finished now, this is where I make the right
decision and make everything right. It's mine to make,
and until I do, there's no life, there is nothing. It
goes against all we've been taught, what we've learnt to
respect. But there is just the one thing everyone
respects over and above convention.
"Morally, I'll be a blaggard, and conventionally, I'll
be leading you in sin. There's even a fair-to-middling
chance I've jeopardised your eternal soul, but I'm not
the one who makes that decision, thank God.
"For your sake, I've done it every which way other
people think it ought to be, but I can see now, they
think they understand reality and then compromise. But
also for your sake, now I'm going to do it our way, what
we want, and to Hell with the rest!"
Confident and clear-minded now, as I looked at Gayle,
I said firmly, "If we are right, we'll be happy and
they won't even know about it! And if they are right,
we'll find out soon enough! But someone else will have
to sort everything out, this is far too big for me.
Until notice to the contrary, you and I together is how
God intended it, and if He isn't happy about that, He'll
let us know. In the meantime, there's a future
together there for us. If you want it, that is?"
Now no 18 year-old, Gayle's voice was the woman in her
was speaking. "Do you think it will last?"
"God, yes. There's everything going for it," I
replied readily. "I've just spent the most miserable
weeks of my life trying to go against it, and I can't,
it's far too strong. Now I'm going with it."
Standing, I put my hand out to her. "Coming?"
Making no attempt to move, Gayle looked at me. "Are
you sure? You've put so much effort into backing away
from it, I'm doubtful. I've learnt a lot in two
months. Now we are talking again, I'm no longer an
emotional cripple. I can exist like this."
Getting nowhere, I was talking to a woman of equal
years. Beginning to feel desperate, I said, "Gayle
darling, the day I brought you here, everything I said
was lies. I'd convinced myself it was the best thing
to do, men just don't sleep with their daughters. I
thought you'd want to find someone of your own and love
them, that you'd eventually see the sense in it. But
that wasn't true either. You'd found him and I didn't
see it.
"This isn't about what's best for you. I didn't see
it but for some time, everything has revolved around
what's best for me. The truth is, I can't live without
you. I've been compromising since I was at school and
I can't compromise any more. It hurts too much and
whatever I must do to bring you about in my life, I've
got to do it. Whatever the cost and whatever people
may think." I smiled ironically to myself as I told
her, "From that time in the hotel, I didn't see it, but
it became whether you could really want me. The same
as I lost your mother, as soon as you could walk again,
I thought I'd lose you. And if making love to you, I'd
be forcing the issue; I might have been about to ruin
your future and you'd probably have hated me for doing
it. And then I'd have lost you forever. I couldn't
make myself believe you really wanted me. For me."
"Well, I did," said Gayle flatly as she rose. "Come
on, walk home with me."
Very uncertain of her, as we walked down the lane,
Gayle took my arm. Much comforted, as we approached
the house and she said, "When you brought me here, I was
so happy. Do you want to know why?", I nodded.
"Because you'd brought it and fitted it out. You'd
done everything. It was the loveliest surprise and I
believed you'd done it for us. I so loved you for it,
but you went so quickly. I wasn't able to say thank
you." Rising on tip-toe, kissing my cheek, Gayle said,
"Thank you, Daddy. It's beautiful."
Unlocking the door, she pushed it wide open. "And
there is another reason why I so love it! Can you
see?"
Craning forward, as Gayle entered and turned on the
lights, I looked in. Glass-panelled doors throughout,
I could see right through to the rear of the house.
Neat, tidy and clean, fresh and airy, I looked but all I
could see was new carpets and the furniture I'd helped
carry in. I shook my head. "I give in."
More like my Gayle, happiness in her eyes, she
suddenly smiled. "The doors," she said. "Look at the
doors."
Studying the front door, and then the doors from the
hallway to the sitting-room and the kitchen, I shook my
head again.
"There's nothing in it for disabled people," Gayle
whispered. "No special door knobs so they can be
opened from a wheel-chair. No special handles to grab
in funny places. And no sloping door-step to get my
chair up." She nodded towards the front door. "And
look at the paint!"
Realising, I looked and grinned at her. "No wheel-
marks. Or scratches where your chair bumped it. All
that time and I never thought of it. Had I known, I'd
have repainted them all."
Smiling again, Gayle led me through to the smart, big
kitchen. "It wouldn't have made any difference. I
would still have known they were there." Reaching up
on those long legs for the crockery, she said, "Sit
there and I'll make you a drink before you drive home."
Different to what I'd hoped, brought back to reality, my
heart dipped.
Sipping a mug of coffee in the living-room, Gayle
suddenly asked, "Tell me, Daddy, what made you come
tonight?"
"Two things", I replied. "Well, one thing triggered
off the other," and I told her of the strange
conversation on the train. "Whoever he was, he had you
and the situation very clear. He pointed out my
problem, and then gave me the answer." I shook my
head. "It was most peculiar."
"Not really, my love", said Gayle with a laugh.
"It's been on my mind for two or three days you were
going to turn up." She smiled. "Fate!"
"That or your mother," I remarked.
"Probably one and the same", Gayle laughed.
Happy to open any door but the only one making sense,
telling me details of her grand-mother's visit and
generally chatting, Gayle seemed intent on letting
things stand as they were and sitting listening to her,
I was becoming nervous. Time ticked by and the moment
came when any decent visitor, even a father, would be
making a move. Unable to find any break in continuity
of the conversation to turn it back onto what was on my
mind, eventually I said, "Well, I suppose I ought to be
going."
From the depths of her arm-chair, Gayle chuckled.
"Now why would you be wanting to do a thing like that?"
With heartfelt relief, as she rose, I reached out for
her, but slipping past me and smiling, she held out her
hand. "Come on, I'll show you to your room."
Close behind her as she climbed the stairs, as we
reached the square-landing and Gayle went to open the
guest-room door, I suddenly felt frightened. If I went
through it, nothing would change save that I'd forever
lose a future. On a sudden compulsion, reaching for
her and pressing her up against the wall, I kissed her.
Momentarily, she held back and then, grabbing for me,
lips searching, her strong body pushed against me as her
arms went around my shoulders.
Revelling in the strange, wondrous sensation of
feeling her legs pressing against mine, my groin pushed
into Gayle as a hand slid under her breast. Chancing
upsetting her, sliding my other hand between us to reach
for her vulva, she began to rub against it. Still with
our lips pressed noisily together, slipping into her
blouse and kneading her nipple through her silky
brassiere, as my hand tried to cup her soft breast, she
unexpectedly began to strain, hands pushing at me as she
turned her face away. Surprised and lifting my lips
from hers, seeing her chance to dart to the centre of
the landing, she wriggled out of my arms. "No, Daddy,
it doesn't read like that," she said breathlessly.
"It's not that easy."
Amazed, I said, "What's up? What did I do?"
"Nothing! That's the trouble, it's what you haven't
done!" Seeing my puzzled expression, Gayle said,
"Look, I knew all about incest when I was thirteen and I
wanted you. Since then, still wanting you in spite of
everything, I've lived with incest. Never sure whether
you wanted me or were patronising me, waiting for you to
be happy to live with incest, I've wanted you for six
patient years; I've loved you and believed in you, but
to ease your conscience, you made everything wrong!
"Then because some stranger on a train finally makes
up your mind for you, you arrive out of the blue, think
nothing has changed and I'm going to welcome you with
open arms. And open legs!
"When this all started, you once told me that when
you'd made up your mind, no matter what anyone thought,
you'd do it, but darling Daddy, every move you have ever
made about me, someone has made the decision for you.
You've needed six years to make an instant decision!"
Seeing me prepared to argue, Gayle said, "Think back!
Right back in the early days, I offered myself to you. I
pushed you into playing with my pussy, and my nipples,
remember?" Watching my face, Gayle saw memory flood
back. "And on that holiday when we found I could move
my legs, I wanted you to make love to me, but your
precious conscience got in the way. Just so you could
tell yourself you hadn't pushed me, or co-erced me, that
I'd only done what I wanted to do, that it was my idea
and you hadn't led me into anything; it was as though
every five minutes or so, you were expecting to be taken
to Court, and wanted to be able to tell the world it
wasn't your fault you'd committed incest. So you
always parked me to one side and got out of making the
commitment.
"And the first time I sucked you, rather than
compromise yourself because you loved me, you even
watched me struggle to unzip you. I had to do
everything.
"Trusting your promise you'd make love to me when I
could walk across the room, when I came out of hospital,
ready to start living with you as your wife and lover,
what happened? Who backed away from incest and went
home? And has felt sorry for himself ever since?"
Nostrils flaring, her face tight, Gayle stared at me.
"God knows, I love you, Daddy and I want to be with you
forever, but I'm not going to make it easy for you any
more, to simply slide into something! As far as things
between you and I are concerned, the only decision which
has been left up to you has been whether you want me
enough to forget self-interest and fuck me!
"And being you, you're going to damned well decide,
once and for all, because if you do, then you'll be
happy to stand by it. It's `make up your mind time'!"
Glancing over my shoulder, in a business-like manner,
Gayle nodded towards the bed-room door. "So look behind
you, my darling! There's a door leading to the life
you have now. With so little use, there's some dust
and stillness, the room contains a comfortable single-
bed, a chair and a chest-of-drawers. If you wish, you
can move here with me as my father and that can be your
world. No decisions of conscience, no-one to whom you
need explain you're just making the best of being a good
father! Almost all you need. Live that life for as
long as you want and looking after my father and
supplying any other necessities, I'll be happy to play
the good daughter."
Jerking her head towards the main-bedroom door,
Gayle's head came up as her eyes challenged me. "Or
there's the door ahead of you. That's where I live.
Through that one, there's a bouncy double-bed, frills
and flounces, and all things feminine and loving. And a
warm heart that loves you very much, everything that is
me! It also contains my lips, my tits, and my body,
everything I've got! That means lots of laughter,
kisses and cuddles. But it also means lots of sex and
making love!
"We might be caught, or we might get away with it.
There's also lots of risks and chances in there, but
it's life, it's living, it's fun and it's the future!
That's my world! If you want me - really want me, I
mean, that's the door you'll have to walk through.
Not to play with my nipples if you feel like it, not for
me to suck you off every now and again, or for you to
lick my pussy when the mood strikes you. Not because
you've been led, and certainly not because a man on a
train told you to, but because of your own will, you
want me and because you love me. And because of that,
you want to screw me."
Slowly, I realised Gayle's door and mine were
identical. Opening to her future, it opened onto mine.
Going through the one leading to my moral, safe little
life gave her the same. Although she'd walk with
another eventually, she'd still be my daughter. But
her way of life was still my choice, my responsibility!
Acknowledging six minutes in Gayle's arms and bed was
worth as many years of being confined in the safe prison
my conscience had allowed me to build for us, if a
future with me was happiness to Gayle, whatever Fate -
or her mother - held for us and whatever the risks, a
future with Gayle was certainly happiness to me.
So obvious to her, the Ward Sister at the hospital
had clearly told me Gayle loved me with all her heart,
and when it thought it would lose her, it was mine that
had cried. That's where love lived, and it had always
known the answer. Whatever my decision, who would be
happy with it? Gayle? Her mother? God? The public
at large? There was only one person in whose eyes I
had to justify myself and starting the same fatal tramp
around morals, principles and scruples, finally
understanding the dangers and problems it had always
posed me, to silence my head, I shook it.
Because all that mattered was my wanting Gayle as much
as she wanted me, and whatever anyone else thought, or
whatever happened to us, something making me so happy
because from now on, they'd be our doors, suddenly not
in the slightest concerned who else was happy about my
decision, I grabbed her. "If you want a wicked life
with an old reprobate of an incestuous father, you've
got it!"
Sweeping her up as kissing me, she happily clung to
me, with my arms under her legs, reaching the door to
her bedroom, Gayle looked at me. "Can you hear it?",
she asked.
It was quite distinct. I nodded. "There's a cat
purring."
Six years before, confronted by a door to a life of
sorts, her world in ruins, her useless legs over my arm,
rightly or wrongly, I'd carried Gayle through it and by
a long chalk, I hadn't made the best of it. Because of
her courage and determination, out of disaster had come
a happy life, and from that life had been born a love.
Confronted now by the door of future happiness, pulsing
with strength and health, the very same legs over the
self-same arm gently kicked it open.
Carrying her through into her bedroom, tinged with
dynamic awareness as Gayle laid back on the bed, those
very misty, loving brown-eyes gazed at me as I struggled
to tear off my clothes. Knowing it a turn-on for me,
tanned, shapely thighs appeared as, deliberately-slowly
lifting the hem of her skirt, quickly removing her
panties, her breathtakingly-exquisite down-covered vulva
revealed itself and in sudden slow-time, those
healthily-white legs parted as spreading her knees - the
same knees we just couldn't get to bend - and lifting
her feet onto the bed, oozing love and wetness, a
quiveringly-pulsing vagina opened to me
Still gazing at me as I moved between her thighs, my
rampant penis nudged the delicate fronds of pink-tissue
aside, and holding my shoulders off with her hands as it
slowly pressed into her, Gayle's glove-like uterus
suddenly contracted as the tip of my penis made contact
with her resisting hymen. Through those brown eyes,
lost in the depths of Gayle's soul, I breathed, "I fell
in love with you when you were thirteen. And every day
since, I've wanted to make love to you! I've wanted to
do the most lecherous, carnal things to you."
Straining up towards me, softly kissing my mouth,
Gayle whispered, "You should have, my darling one. I
so wanted you to. Do them for the rest of your life."
Gayle's to give to whomever she wished, and mine to
take if I wanted, once exceeded, never to be restored
and to me, representing the physical limit to which I'd
been prepared to go, her hymen had always been the
impediment of our union and old life.
And now, it was now the key to the new.
Within me, a towering, powerful want soared, to be
with Gayle, to share her tomorrows, and nothing was
going to stop it. Nestling my glans against that tiny
piece of tissue, our eyes locked.
Quietly, Gayle said, "You're dealing. You call
it!"
Still gazing at each other, lips together, feeling the
willingness of my penis pushing harder and harder, for
the first time pulling and gripping me closer to her
warm body, those strong legs came snaking round my
waist. Straining against her vulva, desire for my
daughter's love instinctively compelled a sharp thrust
as she tensed, and to her sighing, `o-oh-h, Daddy',
feeling resistance give, I suddenly melted into her
deep, fluid soft-depths. From father and daughter,
piercing a barrier only millimetres thick transforming
us lover and lover, the bolts thundering home, the
hesitant door to our past slammed shut.
And a better one, a million times better, swung open.
No more alone and waiting for me to open it for her, it
was the last of the doors to Gayle's future.
THE END
~~~~~~~
The Authors:
~~~~~~~~~~~
Still wondering how matters arranged themselves so
fantastically, at 46 years of age, a result of the
incidents related in his narrative, now well-known and
with a respected reputation in the world of spiritual
philosophy and healing, still following the amazing
`light' which so helped heal Gayle, the Author lectures
on the subjects on an international basis. Often
appearing on TV and radio, he has written a number of
books of his experiences.
Then aged 20, Gayle finally had her game of tennis.
Including the Nursing Sister, watched by patients and
Nursing Staff from the Hospital she'd attended for so
long, chasing him all over the court and leading by 2
sets to 1, she was leading in the fourth set when, for
lack of strength, her ex-surgeon's legs failed him.
Living as man-and-wife,with two adopted children,
Gayle and her father currently reside on the South coast
of England.
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
copyright: Merrill, Castle & Gray 1996
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"IN PRAISE OF OLDER WOMEN..."
Adapted from `Jailbait'
by Jack
~~~~~~~
Little boys are just little boys - `rats and snails
and puppy dog tails,' as the old poem goes - but little
girls are very often merely little women. I'd read about
that young girl named Lolita, who made it with an older
man, but I assumed she was totally fictional. She
wasn't, much to my amazement and sorrow, and I found
that out.
My wife of six years and I finally divorced in the
winter of '93, and I moved out. Managing to keep my job,
that was about all, but because I'd become awfully weary
of the fighting and tension I, I figured it was worth it
though.
When I'd finally caught her making it with some young
grunt of a high school football player, in our own
house, that did it. Like the husband in a classic,
French farce, I'd come home too early and found her
getting her red-headed brains screwed out by that
juvenile jock. The soft, rhythmic sound of expensive
bedroom hardware should've clued me, but unthinkingly,
I'd pushed open the door to see the soles of Brenda's
feet bobbing the air and her fingers digging into his
butt as with youthful gusto, he was humping her down
into the mattress. She was groaning and whimpering, and
both of them were too engrossed in the job at hand to
hear me enter.
Acting without thinking, leaping across the room and
just as he was coming, jerking that punk off of her by
the hair, before he recovered, I got in a couple of
good punches. Then he beat the living hell out of me. I
was thirty-two, and in decent shape, but the kid - if
you could call him that - was over six-foot tall, one-
ninety-five, eighteen years old, and in peak condition.
Trying to stay conscious, beginning to hurt all over, I
lay on the floor as, her curvy butt going jiggle-jiggle
as she ran out of the room, Brenda jumped off the bed, .
And that was that. Filing for divorce, but out of male
pride, not citing adultery, the court clobbered me and
bitterness piled upon anger. When the legal smoke
cleared, I moved into the YMCA and began my new, single
life.
Boy, did I get a hard lesson in the mating game. I got
teased, stood up, ripped off and generally trashed for
six months before I got wiser and wary.
By June, things were looking a little better though
and I went house hunting. Finding a nice apartment
across town - actually a guest house at the rear of a
large home - I set up bachelor house-keeping. I had
reasonable privacy, and a back entrance off the
alleyway, so I hardly ever saw the couple who owned the
place. My landlord was a middle aged exec with a large
computer corporation, and I think I got a deal on the
place because, trying to finish my degree in computer
science, I was back in school. His wife was a
friendly, blonde, but we kept it civil and strictly
platonic.
So all went well until late June when their grand-
daughter, Molly, moved in. Pushing fifteen, Molly was
tall for her age, red-headed and green-eyed, like my ex,
and just past the budding stage. In fact, she had a
fairly lush figure for a kid, but the trouble was, she
knew it. Her breasts weren't big, but they were headed
that way, the large nipples making prominent peaks
against the material of whatever top she wore. Her hips
were beginning to take on the alluring, female curve of
womanhood, and her legs were already well shaped and
long.
That much body, coupled with surging hormones and
juvenile emotions is one very dangerous combination for
any male in sight. I noticed her shortly after she moved
in and spoke to her, but she responded with a dour look
and I ignored her after that.
Being ignored was something little Molly couldn't
handle so after a couple of weeks, she began flirting
with me. Now it seemed every time I looked over my
shoulder, she was there. I got sly glances, then smiles,
then I got treated to the sight of her in a minuscule
bikini, and supposedly to dump the garbage, once she
came out of the main house in just her bra and panties.
I blew it off though until my landlady asked me to tutor
the girl in computers for the summer. I almost said no,
but she pleaded sweetly and I finally agreed.
So on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, Molly would come
back to my little place and we'd sit down at my pentium
for a lesson in electronic data mystique. It went okay -
she was a fast learner - and I tried to ignore the knee
bumping under the desk, the frequent touches and the
heady scent of expensive perfume until the third week.
That Tuesday she showed up wearing just a t-shirt with
obviously nothing under it and tight short shorts.
"Oops," she said as she plunked herself down in the
chair next to mine, "Sorry I'm late. I had to finish
some chores."
Suddenly, I was having a lot of trouble keeping my
eyes on the monitor and off the dual rise of her bare
boobs under the thin shirt. Distracted, I suggested a
break and got us cokes from my small 'fridge. As I
handed her the can, her fingers wrapped around mine and
I saw she was wearing nail polish.
Sitting on the couch across the small room, she
crossed her legs to give me a nice shot of her legs all
the way up to her ass. Keeping my gaze elevated and
away from her thighs, all too adult and luxurious, below
the high edge of her pink shorts, I sat across from her.
"Jack," she finally said, using my first name in a
disturbingly familiar way, "Maybe you could help me with
a problem, if you wouldn't mind a lot." She paused, then
continued. "I should ask my grandma, I guess, but she's,
well, kinda older, and I think you might know what I'm
talking about more. Besides, I can't talk to them about
it."
"If it's computers, I can help," I told her firmly.
"But otherwise I doubt it."
Molly laughed. "It's not computers. I'm confused about
this boy I've been dating. I know he wants sex from me,
but I'm, well, getting tired of saying no all the time."
I started to speak, but she held up her hand to stop me.
"I know, I know, it's awfully personal and everything,
but since I'm probably going to say yes, and I don't
want to get pregnant, I'd be awfully grateful if you'd
help me get some birth control."
Sweet Jesus! She was about to get laid and wanted me
to further her delinquency. I shook my head quickly.
"Please?" she wheedled, looking under her lashes at
me. "They won't sell them to me, he won't get any, and I
don't want to be pregnant."
"Try saying no," I suggested sharply.
She gazed at me as if I'd suddenly turned into the
pedantic Caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. "I've
been saying no," she said petulantly, "but I don't want
to anymore. He puts his finger in me and I get so dizzy
and flustered."
Her legs and her emerging breasts dominated my sight,
and my brain, and I began to picture her naked, heaving
under some pimply boy, taking his thrusts and moaning in
pleasure. Sweat dampened my sides and the palms of my
hands, and worse, I felt an insistent stirring in my
lonely penis. "Whoo," I muttered. "I can't do that. I'd
be in deep trouble even talking any more about it with
you."
Molly wheedled again, coming over and trying to sit on
my lap. I pushed her off and she settled for squatting
down next to my chair. "Please. I really trust you. And
you can trust me too. I wouldn't tell anyone, no matter
what. Please."
I tried a different tack. "Look, I'm assuming you're
still a virgin, and I know it's awfully old fashioned,
but you might consider staying that way."
She gave me an arch little smile. "You are sort of old
fashioned, but kind of sweet. What makes you think I'm
still virgin?"
I felt a hard, warm ripple through my crotch. "Okay,
so you've already done it. I still can't buy birth
control for you."
"You wouldn't want a boy to take me without some
protection, would you?" Her hand rested on my leg as if
to make a point, but it was about as uncalculated as
Wellington's campaign against Napoleon. "You wouldn't,
would you?"
"No," I said in a daze of lust, "I wouldn't."
"Well then," she smiled, "buy some for me and I'll
even pay you back. Or maybe you could loan me some of
yours."
I gaped at her in surprise, then comprehension. Molly
blushed, and I knew she'd been prowling in my room. "I
guess you have something like that," she said quickly to
cover her lapse.
I decided to try shocking her out of it. Half-
jokingly, I said, "I don't suppose you'd want me to
demonstrate them for you would you?"
She pulled her hand from my knee and stared at me, her
eyes going wider. "I wouldn't be afraid if you did," she
said in a low tone, but her expression made a lie of her
words.
We'd come to a turning point and I thought I'd scared
her enough to where she'd leave me alone after that. But
I didn't realise just how determined she was. "I'm not
really in love with him," she said. "I mean, I was
thinking about doing it with him, but I still might not
if I had someone I really liked better."
I told myself I was trying to scare her off even more
as I said, "You know just what you're hinting at?
Talking to a man my age about sex is tantamount to
asking for it. Is that what you want?"
Molly put her chin up, set her jaw and put her
shoulders back, pushing her tits against the material of
her shirt. "I might be. Does that bother you?" she
smiled.
I couldn't see her as a little girl anymore then. I
got up and slowly moved toward the door, locking it, and
then turned back to her. She looked at me soberly, no
longer wheedling or smiling.
"Are your grandparents home?"
Molly shook her head, her eyes fastened on mine. My
nice-guy side was screaming 'no, don't! she's only
fourteen!' but the other side of me, the horny,
frustrated, not-so-nice side, was saying, 'she's old
enough and she's no virgin, go for it! Fuck her little
brains out!'
The horny side won out. I stepped over to her and took
her hands in mine, kidding myself that I was still
trying to shock her out of it, and said, "Okay then,
let's go to bed."
"Aren't you going to kiss me first?" she asked in a
tremulous voice. I was still trying to kid myself that I
was attempting to shock her out of it as I drew her
close and kissed her, pressing my pelvis tightly to
hers, knowing that she had to be feeling the firm rise
of my swelling penis against her belly. She didn't back
off though and I got a very adult kiss back, complete
with probing tongue.
That really did it. We side-walked to the couch and in
just a couple of minutes, we were stretched out, my hand
up under the edge of her shorts and her ankle hooked
over the back of mine.. As we came up for air once, she
whispered, "You don't have to use anything if you don't
want to."
I intended to, but just then I was busy pushing up her
t-shirt. I got it up and I was shocked at how full her
breasts were. They were nicely curved and nubile, with
fairly large nipples, now swollen with excitement. I
bent to kiss them and she held my head.
"I'm getting all squirmy and tingly in my tummy," she
told me.
"Good! Let's get your shorts off." I felt her go tense
again. "You want to stop?" I asked, the nice-guy part
hoping she'd say she did. But, no, she didn't and I
helped her unzip and wiggle out of the snug shorts.
Still going easy as I was able, I ran my fingers down
her abdomen and pressed them gently into the crease of
her mons under her underpants. Instead of flinching, she
opened her legs, making it easier, inviting me, and I
discovered that she was slightly damp. I started to pull
them off her, but she stopped me. "You get undressed
first."
"Why? Are you embarrassed?"
Molly nodded. "But it's okay. I just want to see." Her
face coloured. I sat up and stripped as she gazed at me,
hesitating a little before I pulled off my shorts. My
cock jumped free and I waited for her gasp of shock
But it didn't come. Almost wonderingly, she reached
over and touched the turgid length of my male staff,
touching the tip cautiously. "It's wet on the end," she
observed, repressing a giggle.
"I noticed you're a little damp yourself."
She lifted her hips and quickly pulled her red
underpants off. I don't know why, but I was surprised to
see the curly delta of woman fur at her crotch. Her
shirt bunched up at her chest, she lay back, moving her
legs apart, looking at me. I forgot all about going to
the dresser for a condom as I moved up between her
spreading thighs. Now there was no turning back and no
fooling myself. I was about to fuck her. She sucked in a
hissing breath as I got into position and touched the
tip of my all too eager cock to the fleshy cleft below
that thin woman fur.
I pushed a bit, barely parting her labia and she gave
a sharp gasp and her eyes went wide. I stopped, but her
hands pressed the small of my back, urging me on. "No,
it's okay. Go on."
I pushed again, she gave another little gasp and I was
in her. I don't know what I had expected but it wasn't
like screwing a little girl. She lay still, but the feel
of her so snug and warm around my intruding cock was not
so different from the way it would be with an older
girl. I kept still on her for a moment, hearing her
breathing, and after a bit, she shifted, moving more
under me and bringing one knee up. "Oh," she sighed,
"it's so different."
Pulling back a bit, I thrust again and this time she
didn't flinch or gasp. I took another easy stroke, she
sighed, and then I was humping her, slowly stroking it
to her. She became wetter and looser and I began to
believe she really hadn't been virgin. I stopped just
long enough to grab a throw pillow and place it under
her head, then put her arm around my neck. "How do you
want me to do?" she asked in a quivery voice.
"How ever you feel like."
Molly made a tentative movement of her hips, biting
her lower lip in concentration. "Uh," she grunted
softly, her arm tightening around my neck.
"Bring your legs up," I ordered and her knees cocked
back. "Good. Now just try to move with me." Resting my
forearm under her neck, I grasped her butt with my other
hand and began to really hump it to her, moving faster,
plunging in and out in a nice, steady rhythm, then
hammering down on her until she was grunting under me
and her legs were flopping in the air above my sweaty
back. She kept saying, 'oh, oh, oh' as I drove into her
and I grinned to myself, thinking that kid she'd fucked
hadn't given it to her like this.
Molly got over her confusion after a bit and did try
to move with me, starting to push her hips back to me.
In a few minutes, the couch springs sighed under our
weight and Molly's hands were stroking my back as we
moved nicely together.
"Are you going to come?" she whispered thinly a bit
later.
"You ready?"
"Yeah."
Lifting my upper body, I drove for a finish, thrusting
hard to her, looking down between us to see my prick
pistoning in and out of her stretched inner lips. Then I
came, arching up as I burst into her. She went tense as
she felt my sperm filling her, sucking in a quick breath
and tightening her arms.
Then came the awful realisation that I had just had
sex with a kid. Sudden visions of enraged guardians and
stern judges filled my brain and cold panic washed over
me. I came out of it with Molly's voice in my ear.
"How do I know if I came?"
I pushed off of her and sat up, icy with dread.
"What?"
"It felt so . . . different. My tits got all hard, I
got dizzy and my tummy went all swirly inside, like big
waves and I felt like fainting."
I looked at her, naked, open and flushed, her one leg
bent behind me, the other over my thighs. "Yeah, you
could have."
"I never came before," Molly said wonderingly. Smiling
up at me, she touched my forearm. "Am I as good as your
dumb ol' girlfriend?"
"I don't know. You're too young for me."
"Crap!" Molly snapped, sitting up. "I am not. We just
did it and we both came, so I'm old enough." She gave me
a sly grin. "Besides, we didn't use anything so I might
be pregnant right now even."
`God forbid!' I thought. "You'd better get out of
here," I told her.
"No, I'm staying. They won't be back for hours yet.
Anyway, you have to do what I say now because you could
get in trouble for doing it to me." I gave her a
horrified look and she giggled. "I won't tell, so don't
look so scared." She looked thoughtful. "I don't know if
I could stay all night with you, but I can try. Anyway,
next time we'd better be careful."
`Next time?' I shook my head.
Molly scowled at me. "You don't want to make me
pregnant, do you?"
"I don't even want you over here again," I said
darkly.
"Yes you do!" she snorted. "You liked it. I bet you'd
even like to do it to me again too." Boldly, Molly
touched my limp cock, still damp with her female fluids
and my semen. "It's all wrinkly now," she observed,
tracing my length with one finger.
I flinched away but taking my penis in her hand, Molly
pursued. "Can you make it get bigger again?"
I was certain I was going to go to jail. Then,
perversely, I didn't give a damn anymore. If I was a
rotten child molester and I was doomed to prison, I
might as well do it right. "You could make it get
bigger," I said in a malevolent tone. Molly gave me a
questioning look. "Sure. Play with it a bit and see what
happens."
Hesitating, she tried stroking my still flexible cock,
squeezing and pulling on it. When I didn't immediately
become erect, she stopped. "A grown up woman would try
kissing it," I advised, wickedly grinning at her.
Glowering at my teasing, Molly thrust her chin out
defiantly. "It's all yucchy and slimy and I'd puke." She
suddenly switched moods again and gave me a naughty
little smile. "You think I'm chicken, don't you? You
think I'm just a kid. Well, I'm just as sexy as that fat
old lady you brought over that night." She'd done a
little sneaking and peeking on me and no doubt had seen
me balling a woman I'd picked up and brought home a few
weeks ago.
Before I could rip her for spying, she scooted back,
bent over my lap and planted a quick kiss on the head of
my penis. "Poo!" she spat. "It tastes funny." Then with
an age old instinct, she bent again and cautiously
sipped at the end of it. She grimaced with distaste but
tried again, this time leaving her lips on me longer.
"Huh," she muttered wonderingly. Holding my twitching
cock in her fingers, she carefully placed her lips over
the head and took a tentative suck. I must have sighed
or groaned or something because she grinned up at me and
immediately went down again, sucking harder. In a very
short time, Molly was awkwardly pulling on my cock,
trying to really suck on it right, even using her tongue
a little. I responded, shifting lower on the couch and
lifting my hips to encourage her. My cock began to swell
in her moist, fourteen-year-old mouth and surprisingly
soon I was coming up to complete erection. I petted her
hair and her back as she slurped away on me.
"Hah, did it!" Molly exclaimed a couple of minutes
later, holding my hard-on. Looking up from her
handiwork, she said, "Do you want me to lie down now?"
"No," I said thickly, "Climb up on it." I thought
she'd balk at that, but no, she straddled me, her
features tight with concentration as she grasped my
resurrected cock, raised up and set the head to her
female entrance. She gave a little grunt as she settled
down to drive it up in her, then squirmed closer.
Hugging my neck, she said into my ear, "Okay, it's in."
Totally gone to lust, I kissed her cheek. "Good. See
if you can come again."
Her arms tightening around my neck, moving slowly up
and down on me, Molly flexed her thighs. It felt very
good. I slid wetly in and out as she made short pumps on
me and I leaned back, letting her ride me. She got the
rhythm and was soon humping me in fine fashion, her
breath beginning to whistle in my ear, her face flushed
and her eyes half closed. It was good sex and I had to
keep reminding myself that this was a little girl and
not some experienced woman.
"I . . . think I . . . can," she sighed after a few
minutes.
"Okay. But hurry. I think I'm getting pretty close."
"Okay. Uh, yeah." She inhaled sharply, stiffened and
all at once pushed down very tight to me, her pelvis
grinding against mine. "Oh!" she blurted. "It's
happening!".
Leaning back as I squirted into her, her eyes squeezed
shut, her fingers digging into my shoulders, Molly
flopped forward against me, gasping. I could feel her
vagina going tighter on me, grasping my cock inside of
her.
"Oh, God," I groaned. We rested for a moment, then
lifting her off, I moved back and laid her down with her
legs over the edge of the couch. Pushing her thighs
apart, I put my face to her crotch and began to nibble
at her slick, fleshy folds.
"No," she cried, pushing at my head. "That's nasty! We
just . . ." But she got quiet as I flicked her swollen
little clitoris with my tongue and thrust two fingers
deep into her slippery, semen lubed vagina.
A bit later, Molly's legs were around my shoulders and
she was shuddering as I knelt on the floor, my face
buried in her cleft. She came again, lifting and
whimpering. I pushed back and sat back on the couch.
Molly lay there, staring at the ceiling, her mouth
open. "That's what men do with big girls," I said, a
trifle smugly.
Molly slowly sat up, staring at me. "I'm all squirmy
inside. My bottom hurts."
"Think you'd want to do it again?"
She thought, then nodded. "Not right away though." She
shivered. "But I can sneak out after they've gone to bed
tomorrow night."
"Better not," I advised. "Just keep it for Tuesdays
and Thursdays, like usual."
"I feel funny about you doing that - you know - with
your mouth, right after we did it."
"How would you feel about doing it from the back?"
"In my rear end?" She looked aghast.
"Sure. Some big girls like it that way, and it's
harder to get pregnant like that."
Molly chewed her lip in consternation. "I don't know.
Couldn't we just use one of those plastic things?"
"Hey, look, you want to be grown up about it, right?
Well . . ."
She surprised me once more by saying, "Maybe. But it
might hurt."
"I'll do it real easy."
"Okay, I guess. We'll see." She left a while later.
I wasn't sure she'd show up again, but that Thursday,
there she was at my door. She was no sooner inside than
she was hugging me, ready to be kissed. "I'm okay now,"
she said. "You can do it to me, but not in my behind. I
tried putting my finger in there but I'm too small back
there for your thing."
With the aplomb of a long time, older girlfriend, she
dug through my dresser and found a condom. Without a
trace of shame or reluctance, she went to my bed, got
undressed and slid under the covers, waiting for me.
When I stripped and got in beside her, she kissed me,
then pressed me back. "I want you to kiss me down there
first instead of afterwards."
I got her good and wet and warmed with my tongue, and
when she was happy with that, Molly pulled me up onto
her, parted her legs for me and deftly rolled the condom
onto my ready cock before she brought it to her swollen
and moist cunt. As I sank down on her, and slid smoothly
into her, she said, "I'm going to keep on dating that
boy I know, but I won't let him do it, not right away
anyhow. But if I do, I promise to make him use one too."
Then proceeding to screw my head off, locking her legs
around me, she bucked and sighed under me until I came.
Laws and such notwithstanding, some females are born
lusty little seductresses. And now that I think about
it, once she made her mind up to have me, I don't think
I ever had a chance.
I was only thirty-two, but she was fourteen, going on
forty.
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
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+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
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'
`Scherezade Archive'
`The Boudoir Press'
`The Great Archive'
`The Attic'
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.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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NEXT MONTH:
~~~~~~~~~~~
`Viccy' reveals more from her `Incest-Help-Line' mail-
bag.
By request, a reprint of `Darlin' Daughter's' 10-point
guide to finding TRUE stories on the Internet.
The start of the UNPUBLISHED chapters of `Tomorrow's
Family?', the true account of an entire family's
coversion to incest as a way of life.
Part one of `Etienne' by Rob Morton.
News of a PRICE REDUCTION CONCESSION for subscribers of
"ELECTRA MAGAZINE" to a major binary archive.
and much more, including a section of `Energy For Life',
the story of a mother and father and their daughter
Sabine.
And `Charlie', their Red Setter.
+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+
"ELECTRA MAGAZINE" (September)
copyright: Merrill, Castle & Gray 1996 (UK Edition)
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