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The Schemer
by Anonymous (xpost@hotmail.com)

***

I know Jack's a bit of a slimeball - I always have - but 
he manages to convince me again and again that I'm 
better off with him than without him. (MFf, ped, inc, 
mc)

***

I know Jack is up to something, and I'm not happy about 
it.

He's a schemer, and I suspect this scheme has something 
to do with our daughter, Tracey - something illegal and 
immoral and perverse.

Tracey is turning 13 in two weeks. That's a clue in and 
of itself.  Jack's told me for years that a girl is at 
her ripest, her most perfect, at age 13. "You need to 
pop her cherry then," he's said, "when she's right at 
the edge of innocence, so she learns how to fuck, how to 
really get into it."

He's said, too, "I'm going to break our baby in, Karen. 
I'm going to make sure she turns out a perfect little 
slut. That sweet little body is made for all sorts of 
sex."

Usually he says this sort of thing while we're fucking. 
I admit, whenever he says it, I start coming about four 
seconds later. And it's always an insanely intense 
orgasm. Like for the last couple months, we've done it 
doggie-style nearly every time, and after a while, 
Jack'll start spanking my ass - lightly at first, then 
progressively harder - and he'll bend down and whisper 
in my ear:

"Our little girl's birthday is coming up, Karen. She's 
getting riper every day. I'm going to give her a great 
big birthday present. You've got her birthday present 
stuffed in your pussy right now. Do you like that 
present? It's going to push those baby pussy lips wide 
open. Those *wet* baby pussy lips. And Tracey is going 
to moan and squeal, and I'm going to squirt her cunt 
full of cum. Her birthday cunt. Her brand new, ready-
for-all-sorts-of-fun, sticky birthday cunt. And she's 
going to be our beautiful birthday slut."

I'm always a little scared when he starts the spanking, 
because I know the whispering is coming next. I don't 
stop it or do anything though, because I like the 
fucking too much. And as soon as Jack starts talking - 
as soon as he mentions Tracey - my cunt gets ten times 
wetter. I'm reduced to moaning and shaking my head "no," 
and then pressing my face into the pillow and biting 
down so Tracey can't hear me scream so loud when I come.

When I calm down, I always feel ashamed. You can't 
imagine how ashamed I feel. Sometimes I'll cry for 
several seconds into the pillow, and then Jack will 
nudge me, rub my back or something; and I'll turn to 
look at him and see him smiling at me, like he knows 
he's in total control; and I'll see his cock, slippery 
with my fuck stuff and a little bit of his come dangling 
from the tip; and I'll know he's right, he is in 
control, because even with all the guilt and shame and 
coming down just moment before from a mammoth orgasm, I 
still worship that cock and what it does to me.

That feeling does wear off, though, when the cock isn't 
right in front of me. And so, since I've known Jack's 
plans for years (since Tracey was about eight, 
actually), I've drilled it into her head that she must 
tell me immediately if anyone tries to touch her in her 
private places. Even a relative.

I've never come out and said anything about her dad to 
her, but Tracey's a smart girl, and in the last year or 
so, I think she's started to understand what I really 
mean. She loves her dad, but I think she knows he's not 
the nicest guy. 

As I said, he's a schemer - which is why he's such a 
successful businessman - and it shows. You know, when 
you're talking to Jack, that he'd con you out of 
something or talk you into something just to prove he 
could. It's sort of explains our marriage: I know he's a 
bit of a slimeball - I always have - but he manages to 
convince me again and again that I'm better off with him 
than without him.

Nevertheless, I've promised myself, ever since he 
started mentioning it, that he wouldn't touch Tracey. To 
be honest, it's become almost an obsession, a self-
imposed geas of sorts. Especially since Tracey turned 
12, I've worried constantly; I've even had nightmares 
about coming home to find Jack fucking our daughter - 
even worse, I usually wake up wet as a puddle from these 
dreams.

I'm better off than I might have been, though, I'm sure. 
A couple of months after Tracey's last birthday, I was 
really starting to go crazy over this situation. I don't 
work much - like I said, Jack's an amazing salesman, so 
our income is fine - so I had plenty of time to think 
about Jack and Tracey, Jack and Tracey...

I became very tense, and it showed. Tracey knew 
something was wrong, but she didn't have any idea what 
it was. Jack must have suspected; he asked me what was 
the matter in the middle of a particularly wet and nasty 
fuck session. He pulled his cock out of my pussy, put it 
in front of my face and told me I could put it in my 
mouth if I answered him.

As I said, that dick is irresistible to me. I spilled my 
worries to him, panting, begging him to let me taste it.

He did. While I sucked him, he said, "So you're all 
worked up because Tracey's getting that great big 
birthday present in less than a year?  Does that get you 
too hot to think straight? Do you collapse on the couch 
and jam a finger in that slick little pussy and fuck 
yourself with it while you think about it? Do you like 
having that dick in your mouth after it's been in your 
creamy pussy-hole? In a year, you might be sucking 
creamy, dreamy little Tracey's juice off that dick..."

He fucked me that night. I came hard; and I cried hard. 
I don't think Jack was really concerned for me, but he 
didn't want Tracey to worry, and he was tired of my 
nervousness himself, so the next day, he suggested I 
start seeing a therapist he knew a couple of times a 
week.

I was surprised, but relieved too. It sounded good, the 
idea that maybe I could talk to someone about this. I 
asked him if he didn't feel uncomfortable knowing I'd be 
discussing his plans for Tracey with a friend of his.

He just smiled and said, "It's all confidential. He 
can't say anything to anyone."

So I started seeing Dr. Holms twice a week, Tuesdays and 
Thursdays, from 4 to 6. He was very sympathetic, very 
understanding and very professional. And Jack was right: 
The doctor wouldn't breathe a word to anyone. He had too 
strong a sense of ethics. It almost made me mad. I mean, 
my daughter was going to get fucked by her father on her 
13th birthday, and I knew I couldn't do anything to stop 
it, and I'd told the doctor so; and he wouldn't take it 
upon himself to do anything to keep it from happening. 

He wouldn't even discuss the subject with Jack if he 
happened to see him - he said, despite Jack's 
involvement, I was his patient, and he couldn't discuss 
my case with anyone else.

I voiced my concern - my anger - to Dr. Holms, and he 
said he could do *something* to appease me. He 
suggested, about a month and a half after I'd started 
seeing him, that Tracey attend an afterschool group 
every day for gifted youngsters. The group was run by 
one of his colleagues, Dr. Larrimore. Dr. Holms 
suggested that spending a couple of hours every day with 
other intelligent children might boost her self-esteem 
so that she could resist any attempt by Jack to sneak 
into her pants.

It sounded good to me. In any case, I didn't think it 
could hurt. So, Tracey's been going to see Dr. Larrimore 
every weekday, even now that it's summer; and I've been 
seeing Dr. Holms for almost a year now. And, as I said, 
I'm sure I'm much better off than I'd have been if I 
hadn't ever gone for help.

I'm also very confident that Jack's not going to get to 
Tracey. Not on her 13th birthday, not ever. We've had 
plenty of open discussions about sex lately, and Tracey 
says she's not having sex till she's married.  She's 
very firm about that. 

That might change, of course, but as long as she sticks 
to it till she's old enough to fend for herself, I'll be 
happy. And she *knows* that if anyone touches her - a 
stranger, a relative, a boy at school - she needs to 
make them stop and tell me right away.

So I feel better. Jack knows how Tracey feels too. He 
keeps spanking and whispering while we fuck, though, 
like he still thinks it's going to happen. It scares me, 
but I calm down much more than I used to. I really don't 
think he'd try to rape Tracey - it's not his style, not 
at all - so I figure he's just maintaining the fantasy, 
getting off on how I, like a whore, get off on it.

I'm a little concerned, though. As I said, I think he's 
up to something. 

I can usually sense that. And he is a schemer.

*	*	*

It's Tracey's 13th birthday. It's 6:30 p.m., a Tuesday. 
I've just walked in the door, just got home from my 
session with Dr. Holms. I need to get ready - Jack said 
he'd be home by 7, and we're taking Tracey out for 
dinner.

I head upstairs and for the bathroom, to check my hair 
and makeup. I stop outside the bathroom door, though. I 
hear noises coming from our bedroom.

My heart is beating hard and fast, and it seems like it 
takes forever to get to the end of the hall. The noises 
are becoming clearer: heavy breathing, and Tracey's 
voice sighing, "Yes, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy..."

The bedroom door is open. Jack is on our bed. He's 
naked, sitting mostly upright against a pillow against 
the headboard. His cock is erect, curving straight up, 
and Tracey - who is naked too, except for a lacy bra, 
which is only half on, and knee-high socks - is facing 
Jack and sliding up and down on it, like it's a big, 
slippery pogo stick.

I stand in the doorway in shock. I'm too shocked even to 
cry. I want to speak, but I can't. I just stand there.

Jack looks at me and smiles, that same smile, the one of 
total control.  "Karen," he says, "you're home. You want 
to wish our little girl Happy Birthday?"

Tracey turns her head to look at me without changing her 
slow, easy fuck-rhythm: up and down, up and down... 
She's smiling dreamily. Her hair is in pigtails, and it 
makes her look even younger. "Hi, Mom," she says, and 
turns back to her father.

"This birthday pussy is as tight as I thought it'd be," 
Jack says, still grinning. "It's tasty, too."

"H-how?" I finally manage to stammer. "Tracey, no..."

"Honey," Jack says patronizingly, "this is what Tracey 
wants to do. It doesn't matter how many times you told 
her not to let me do this. I had her taken care of. 
See?" He looks her straight in the eye. "Tracey," he 
says, "turn all the way off for Daddy."

It looks like an electric shock courses through Tracey. 
She sits straight up. "Daddy!" she says. "No! No, Daddy! 
We can't do this!" She tries to push herself off him, 
tries to lift herself off his dick.

He puts his hands on her shoulders and holds her firmly. 
"Tracey," he says, "turn on for Daddy."

In an instant, Tracey is relaxed. She's more than 
relaxed - she begins fucking him contentedly again.

Jack smiles at me. I'm just standing in the doorway, 
gaping. He looks at Tracey again. "Tracey-baby," he 
says, "let's put on a show for Mom. Turn into a real 
slut for Daddy."

Tracey starts fucking Jack twice as fast. Her cunt 
bounces up and down on his cock. "Daddy," she breathes, 
"fuck my little pussy. Make your little girl come. I 
need a birthday come, Daddy. My great big birthday 
present feels so good. I wanna get it greasy-wet when I 
come on it..." She continues to murmur nasty words to 
her father while I watch in silence. She turns to me.

"Mommy, when Daddy sticks all his gooey cum up in me - 
it's a good thing he got fixed, 'cause I want that gooey 
cum - are you gonna lick it out?  Are you gonna suck on 
the birthday pussy, Mommy?"

Now I am just about ready to cry, mostly because, in 
spite of how shocked and angry I am, hearing my little 
girl say that has made my pussy moist. I'm about to 
speak...

"Tracey," Jack says, breathing hard, "go back to normal 
level for me, baby. I can't come in your pussy til Mommy 
decides whether she's going to clean it up or not." 
Tracey resumes fucking her daddy more slowly and 
quietly.

Words form in my mouth. "How did you do this?" I ask, 
horrified - but perversely intrigued.

Jack is still smiling. "Simple hypnotic conditioning. 
Some intense subliminals. Things like that. Dr. 
Larrimore is awfully effective.  Didn't you know that's 
his specialty?"

I swoon a little. Tears are forming. To learn that I put 
my daughter in the hands of the man who made this 
possible - it's too much...

And it almost certainly means that...

Jack's smile becomes even broader as he sees the thought 
forming in my confused mind. "By the way," he says, "you 
look great."

I look across the room at the mirror on our dresser.

I gasp. I'm wearing a dress I've never seen before. It's 
pink and lacy, and it looks like something a girl 
Tracey's age - not a 36-year-old woman - might wear to 
church. I have knee-high socks on. My hair is in 
pigtails.

I look back at Jack, terrified, although I'm becoming 
wetter every second.

Jack just shrugs and grunts a little as our daughter 
grinds her pussy onto his dick.

"I figured, I'm going to have one little girl sexpot, 
why not have two?  It makes everything easier. And Dr. 
Holms is just as qualified as Larrimore. I believe they 
actually studied together."

I make a noise like a sigh of despair, of desperation; I 
try to shake my head "no."

"Karen, honey," Jack says, grunting, and I know he's 
coming in our daughter Tracey's tight pussy; and I know 
I *will* be volunteering - happily, lustfully, even - 
for cleanup duty momentarily...

"Turn on for Daddy."

END

xpost@hotmail.com
Please send comments.

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is 
meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in 
real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real 
life" can look forward to many unproductive years 
getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their 
local prison system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 67