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From: "Frank McCoy" <mccoyf@millcomm.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} :*NEW* "Daddy, Please?" [1-4/?] (Mg, incest, cons, pedo, serial?)
X-Original-Subject: :*NEW*: DADYPLES.TXT "Daddy, Please?" [1-4/?] (Mg, incest, cons, pedo, serial?)
Date: Mon, 25 Jun 2001 00:10:05 -0400
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Daddy, Please?
An Erotic Story
Parts 1-4/??
"Daddy, please?"
I'm weak. I never could resist my little girl, when she
gave me that innocent, pleading look. To hear her beg, you'd
think she was dying of thirst, and just wanted a tiny drop of
water, before she withered up and died. Only what the little
girl wanted, wasn't water to drink.
My wife, of course, was no help, even in this. "Oh, go
ahead, Don," she almost choked with laughter. "You can see the
kid really wants it."
"But, but ...," I spluttered.
I looked down at where our almost naked 6-year-old had
crawled into bed with me and my wife. The little pre-schooler
had her father's (my) fat, swollen, and treacherous penis in her
hot little hand, mouth open, and almost ready to take the prick
inside her mouth. It was only fast reactions that had prevented
the little girl from already taking several inches in her now-
pouting little mouth. Sandy seemed SO disappointed that I wasn't
letting her do something that would drive most kids away in
horror at the very thought of ... sucking their own father's
prick.
"Please, Daddy," she repeated. "I'll make it feel REAL good
for you, I promise!"
I had no doubt about that. Even the worst and most
inexperienced blow-job I ever had, was right-on. Having my own
little girl TRYING to make it feel good for me, would be twenty
times the erotic fantasy that even an experienced hooker "doing
her duty" to a customer would ever be.
"Uh ...." Once again, I looked over at my wife for support,
and received none. Marin's eyes danced with glee, as she saw me
caught in my own trap. After all, *I* was the one who read
stories about little girls who liked sex, and insisted that they
were true ... or at least, could be true. To be accosted by our
own child trying to prove *my own* point to *me*, seemed to her
to be poetic justice, of a kind.
"Thanks, Daddy!" Without waiting further for parental
permission that I seemed unable to give, the little girl took my
absence of denial for consent. Suddenly I wasn't able to think
clearly any more, as a hot wet, WONDERFUL something surrounded
the head of my penis, and started moving around it. That
something, was my own little girl's mouth.
"Oh God," I moaned; involuntarily clutching the child's
head, and moving her back and forth, so her sucking mouth slid up
and down on my swollen penis like some expensive imitation of a
vagina.
"See, Daddy," commented Sandy, temporarily pulling back and
taking her mouth off my prick so she could talk, "I told you I'd
make it feel good for you." With that, my daughter returned to
sucking my prick with gusto, until I started feeling the tingles
in the head that presaged a full blown ejaculation, like I hadn't
had in days. Where or how the little girl had learned to do this
so well, and why she even WANTED to do what most girls thought
was nasty and obscene ... especially girls her age ... sucking
1
the thing her father PEED out of, like it was the finest
candy ....
"Oh God," I repeated. "I'm going to cum."
Sandy didn't stop sucking. If anything, the little girl
started moving faster, and I felt her tiny tongue swirling around
the head of my prick, and poking into the pee-hole.
"I'm going to cum in your mouth!" I warned her, even louder
this time. "Sandy!"
Sandy just looked up at me, eyes wide open and smiling the
way only a child's eyes can smile.
"I'm going to squirt my cum in your mouth," I amplified.
"You'd better stop now." I figured it was bad enough letting my
little girl suck my prick, without having her grossed-out or even
throw up when I ejaculated my semen in her mouth. However much
the child liked to actually suck prick (and from her actions,
even I was starting to become a believer that Sandy actually DID
like what she was doing ... The "Mmmm"'s and mewls of
appreciation were all too like the kind the child made when
eating her favorite ice-cream or other foods) I just KNEW that
ejaculating thick white cum out of my prick into her mouth would
be such a nasty and traumatic event, the little girl might end up
turned-off from sex for the rest of her life. Heck, even
seasoned whores rarely let Johns cum in their mouths; and those
who did, usually spit it out as fast as they could. Only in sex-
films, did it seem that women actually liked tasting cum. And
everybody knows how fake THOSE are. I couldn't do such a thing
to my own daughter. I wanted the little girl to LIKE sex. And
to top it off, I would forever feel guilty if I took a child who
actually LIKED oral sex, and turned her into hating it, by doing
such a nasty thing as cumming in her mouth, while she was being
so nice to ME by sucking my prick. No, I just couldn't do it, no
matter HOW much my aching prick wanted to explode in the child's
hard-working mouth, where a lively tongue was working harder than
I would have believed my daughter could go.
Forcing myself to pull away, I took Sandy's head in mine and
pulled her off me. No way could I ruin her life, for my own
pleasure.
Only ... Sandy looked up at me, tears in her eyes at my
forcing her to stop. "Please, Daddy?" she asked. "I want to
taste it. Please, just this once?"
Again, my wife didn't give me any support. "Oh, go ahead,"
she responded to my silent plea for her backing. "You can SEE
that she wants it, so why not? It's not as if you were forcing
her, or did it unexpectedly."
"Please, Daddy?"
I'm sorry to say, I did it. Like I said, I never could
resist my little girl. With great aching heaves and splurts, I
felt surge after surge of thick greasy cum ripple through the
tube on the bottom of my prick, once Sandy returned to sucking
and slurping on it. And, instead of being disgusted and pulling
away when her father started ejaculating his seed in her mouth,
my daughter actually forced her head forward two more inches, so
that almost three quarters of my prick was in her mouth; and I
was almost ejaculating my cum right down her throat. Surge after
surge, blast after blast. It seemed my cum would never stop
2
squirting.
But finally it did. I knelt there in weary amazement, as
the child lapped up the overflow that had escaped her mouth when
my heavy ejaculations were too fast for her to swallow. Licking
around the base of my prick, she cleaned up every drop; making
hums and mewls of appreciation for the taste, as if it was the
finest of ambrosia or (her favorite) ice-cream. Then she popped
my wilting prick back into her mouth, and nursed it until it
finally wilted into a nubbin.
"Thanks, Daddy!" she told me; emphasizing her gladness, with
a big hug and sloppy kiss (that tasted faintly of semen). "I
told you, you would like it; can we do it again; please, Daddy,
please, please, please?" she ran her sentences happily together
in the exuberance only little girls can have. "I'll make it feel
REAL good for you next time," she promised.
And that (of course) was just the start.
3
I was just starting to ease down from one of the most
incredible sex-experiences of my life, where my own baby girl
gave me about the best blow-job I'd ever gotten. (No, as blow-
jobs go, Sandy's inexperience would normally have placed her on
the BOTTOM of the list for technique and ability. Several times
she had accidentally caught the glans of my prick with her teeth,
and twice she had almost gagged while actually seeming to TRY to
deep-throat me, in a manner that even women three times her age
would be hard-put to do. No, what made the sex so good, was
first, it was my own little girl ... the one I would do ANYTHING
for, except hurt somebody else. Second, it was her enthusiasm.
Sandy didn't do the blow-job to impress anybody. She didn't do
it for money, fame, or as a duty. Sandy did it because she LIKED
me, her own father, wanted me to feel good, and [unbelievable as
it seemed at first] because she LIKED to do it.) Sex, ANY sex,
is wonderful, unless one person is forcing another. Then it's
horror incarnate. That's the main reason I had been so reluctant
to give in to my little girl's request. I was afraid she was
being pressured somehow into doing this ... by my wife, by some
girlfriend (Little girls CAN be quite nasty and catty at times.)
or (worst of all) by some unspeakable pervert who had some
terrible hold over her. Once it became crystal clear that Sandy
really wanted to do this ON HER OWN, without somebody forcing her
to do it, then it became impossible for me to resist ... or to
enjoy far more than a man ever should enjoy molesting his little
girl.
Which brought up the next point: WHO was the Son-of-a-
BITCH, who had taught my innocent little girl to WANT to suck a
man's prick like a seasoned whore? (Never mind her comparatively
poor performance. I'd still give her an A+ for both effort, and
for the fact it was her first time.)
I was about to burst into furious questions, both at my wife
and Sandy, when I realized that her first real experience with
sex was NOT the time to traumatize my daughter with harsh words,
or start interrogating her like a cop trying to beat a confession
out of a hardened criminal. So, I caught my breath, tried to
ease my furiously beating heart from that wonderful ordeal, and
cuddle my little girl while we both recuperated from her first
sexual experience with her own father.
Only Sandy, after a moment of cuddling up to me, didn't seem
to be calming down or easing up like I was. In fact, after about
a minute or two she began squirming and wriggling in my arms
almost involuntarily; seeming unaware at first of what she was
doing to me and the prick that SHOULD have been satisfied for the
day after that incredible blow-job.
"Please, Daddy?" she whimpered.
Like I said earlier, I never could resist my little girl.
However, this time it wasn't so obvious what she wanted; as she
didn't have my prick in her hand, about to swallow it, like
earlier. I looked over at my grinning wife for guidance.
Marin seemed to be getting WAY too much pleasure out of my
discomfort. She had always known I was a pedophile, since years
before she even agreed to marry me. It took me quite a while to
convince her that while I found little girls sexy, I was NOT the
kind of guy who would pick up kids in the park and stick my
4
finger in their pants. In fact, chances were I wouldn't even
touch a little girl who came on to me. After all, I have my
ethics. Kids, especially LITTLE kids (like Sandy, or younger)
just do NOT go up to strangers and ask them if they want to fuck.
Such things are only wet-dreams, or sophomoric stories written by
teenagers who probably never got laid in their lives.
However, I DID know that some girls (and boys too) actually
got interested in sex at an early age. Some as young as ten
years old, or even younger. Heck, even babies liked to have
their genitals rubbed; and often would play with themselves, if
not covered up and prevented with heavy diapers. It FEELS good
to be touched down there. Getting this idea across to my wife,
took a while, but was worth it. Otherwise, I don't think she
would have married me in the first place, or agreed to have a
child with me, if she thought I might be molesting the kid, in
the second.
However, there HAD been one dustup since Sandy was born:
About (of course) my books. Marin had wanted me to either toss
them, or hide them at the very least. Especially, as she said
they were unrealistic. Little ten-year-old girls, just did NOT
go up to their fathers and ask the man to stick his thick prick
up inside their tight little bellies and fuck them without
worries of disease, pregnancy, or the other parent finding out.
However, *I* remembered all too well when *I* was young. I
remembered how much I WANTED sex, even at ten, and probably a
year or two younger than that. I simply ACHED to find a girl (or
woman!) to have sex with. And later, when I was an adult, I had
discussed this with my big sister, and found out SHE had felt the
same way, only she started younger than I did! Oh God, if I had
only known.
Only kids just never DO think of siblings as possible sex
partners, dates, or even real human beings. Sisters are SISTERS.
They get in your way, make fun of you, hog the bathroom, go out
on dates with some of the awfullest creeps, and generally make a
little boy's life miserable. But still somehow you love them
anyway. Carol, it turned out, felt the same way about me. She
DID admit having a crush on Dad though; but it never came to
anything. Such crushes rarely do; though they are far more
common than many people think. (And sometimes, like Sandy, they
develop into something far more intense than a mere crush.)
So, for the past several months, our disagreement about my
books (It hadn't escalated into an argument.) had shifted to
where I was defending the idea that SOME little girls actually DO
want sex at an early age (like my sister had) even if possibly
MOST do not (like Marin insisted such ideas had never occurred to
her). Each of us was SURE we were right, and with personal
experience along with friends and family to back it up. For
several months now, Marin had sometimes teased me by pointing out
especially sexy little girls ... most particularly the kind who
wore little slut, "fuck me" outfits down at the mall; asking me
what I'd do if the kid walked over and asked if she could take me
to bed. Of course, *I* would respond by pointing out that the
little girl in question probably DID want sex, as the kinderslut
outfit seemed to show. She was most likely afraid to ask though;
so the sex-bomb outfit was an attempt to get some guy to ask her.
5
And Marin (of course) would respond by saying it was a lot
more likely that the little girl's FATHER and dressed her up like
a sexpot, so he could ogle his little girl's charms, and show her
off to all the other men, in a macho, "See what *I'VE* got, that
you can't have," display, that men are so fond of doing.
I (again, of course) would respond by pointing out that
almost ALL of such kids' clothing was bought by loving mothers,
NOT horny dads. So, what did THAT imply?
The conversations usually stopped there; though I HAD
gathered up most of my books, and filed them neatly in the
headboard of the bed. While Marin was a wonderful wife, and we
(usually) had sex almost twice a day on average, I STILL needed
to "handle things on my own" once in a while. And books like,
"Daughter's Hot Mouth" and "Daddy's Little Darlings" or "The
autobiography of a Flea" did a lot to help me "do my duty". For
some reason, stories about little girls who LIKE sex (like I kept
insisting to Marin did exist) were almost always at least
partially incestuous. I guess that's because when YOUNG, the
place a girl can find sex the easiest, is in the family.
So, there I was, with a reviving prick, after one of the
best blow-jobs of my life (if inexperienced) and a squirming
little girl in my arms, while I looked over helplessly at my
grinning wife.
"What does she want NOW?" I asked plaintively.
Marin's grin grew even wider.
"I think she wants to be molested," she choked; almost
collapsing in giggles on the bed. To my wife, having our little
girl making obscene advances on her pedophile husband, seemed
like the funniest thing in the world. Especially, as I was
resisting far harder than she would expect most men who never
even thought of little girls as sex-objects to do.
"Daddy, Please?" whined Sandy.
"Oh God, I can't," I groaned myself. "I can't rape my own
daughter!"
"Oh don't be silly," snapped Marin; for once, losing her
composure; and slipping from hilarity into annoyance. "She's
much too little for that. You won't be able to fit that nasty
THING of yours in her for several years yet so don't even THINK
of trying! You don't have to FUCK a girl to have sex with her,
you know. Even *I* knew that, when I was probably younger than
she is." That was the FIRST time Marin had ever admitted having
sexual interests at all, before she was twelve years old.
"You can kiss her, cuddle her, feel her up, have her suck
your cock <giggle> lick her, rub her, even stick your finger in
her hole, or up her ass. You DON'T have to put your prick in a
girl to make it feel good for her. Get the idea?"
"Please, Daddy?"
Oh God.
"You can even cum in her, if you want to," amplified Marin;
taking pleasure at my discomfort. I could almost hear her
thought, 'Serves the old bastard right, for being a pedophile!'
At my openmouthed objection, she continued, "Yes, you can hold
your prick up against her ass, or even her cunny, and squirt
inside her THAT way. You don't HAVE to have your cock inside a
girl to get cum in her, you know. My mother pointed this out to
6
me many years ago, when I *thought* I was having 'safe sex' with
a guy. I'm sure Sandy would love to have your cum inside her
body, no matter WHERE you squirt it, wouldn't you, Honey?"
"Please, Daddy?"
Oh God.
I figured that I just HAD to find out where both Sandy AND
Marin have been getting this stuff. It sounded WAY too much like
some of the wet-dream stories I kept on the headboard.
"Daughter's Hot Mouth, BOOK II", came to mind, along with a
couple others.
A sudden thought tore through my head; and I looked in
horror at the bookshelf above the bed, while Marin grinned even
broader. Oh God, no.
"Please, Daddy?" Now a whimper of desperation.
"Well?" asked Marin; now seeming annoyed. "Are you just
going to stand there and tease the child, when you can see she
needs you?"
Oh God. I looked down again; and Sandy was now squirming
against me; her eyes blank and desperate as she pleaded for
something, anything, to ease the feelings she was having for
probably the first time.
I'm both sorry, and proud at the same time, to say that I
gave in once again to the child's pleading, and did what most
people would consider the worst thing a father could do to his
own little girl. Yes, I did what my wife suggested, and molested
Sandy.
Reaching down between my little girl's legs, I ran a finger
over her plump little cunny-lips. Sandy arched her back, and
thrust her hips forward into my searching finger; almost writhing
against me in an attempt to force the probing member into her hot
and ready sex. Yes, little girl or not, Sandy was wet and ready,
as my obscene fingering of the little girl soon met slippery
drool seeping from the child's crack. I could not avoid the
evidence. Sandy wanted SEX, and from her own father; even though
it would probably be years before her tiny vagina would be big
enough to accept a member the size of mine.
Still, even babies like to have their genitals rubbed; and
there are many ways to help a girl get off without sticking your
swollen and throbbing prick into her belly and filling the
child's womb with incestuous seed. Shit. There went my little
head, thinking for the big one again. I tried to shut it down
(and partially succeeded; as my penis had just finished the best
sex in months). Ignoring my own rising heat, I tried my best to
help cool my little girl's.
By this time, Sandy was squirming and panting into my ear;
her hot breath pleading, "Oh Daddy, oh Daddy, oh, oh, oh," while
I petted her raised mons and cupped her tiny sex; all the while
massaging my little girl's body, and trying to ease her needs.
It obviously wasn't enough. I looked over at Marin, and she
just shrugged. Thankfully, my wife wasn't wearing that same
goofy grin she had earlier. She knew, and I knew what I would
have to do ... So I did it.
Leaning my little girl back, I spread her legs and moved my
head in between them. Sandy seemed completely out of it; just
lying there, writhing and pleading for what she didn't know yet.
7
A shock went through her body, the first time my tongue
touched her between the legs; then the child's hands grabbed hold
of my hair, almost tearing out chunks as I swabbed the sensitive
lips of the little girl's sex. I was quite used to this sort of
mistreatment of my hair by my wife, who has even stronger hands;
so I ignored it. Hair (unless you're sick) is stronger than most
people realize. Some girls in circuses have been known to be
pulled up to trapezes by their ponytails, as part of the act.
Just don't put ALL the pressure on a few hairs at time.
For a bit, I deliberately ignored the child's little diamond
of a clit; now swollen and sticking out farther than I would have
thought it could. Early in the game, you want avoid a woman's
clitoris; as it's too sensitive. Only when she's in the throes
of striving for orgasm should you attack it; as by then even
excesses of pain and overstimulation can translate into pleasure.
Sandy was now mewling constantly, "Oh Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,"
as she thrust her little hips up at me; bruising her groin
against my nose; while almost forcing me to stop from the pain of
her pubic bone smashing into my proboscis. Thankfully, I was
able to turn my head a little, while still administering to the
child's sex.
Sandy was much too little to take an adult cock like mine
inside her; but that didn't mean something smaller wouldn't help
the child. So I tentatively took the little finger of my right
hand and tried putting just the tip inside her wet and ready sex,
while I did the main stimulation outside.
That was a mistake. Feeling something actually probing
INSIDE her for the first time, caused Sandy to jerk forward
involuntarily; burying my finger to the hilt in the child's sex.
God, was she hot, wet, and slippery inside. That slippery, it
was no wonder my finger went all the way into her body without
stopping. Once inside however, Sandy involuntarily clamped down
on the invading digit, until I couldn't pull it out if I tried.
"Oh, oh, OOOOOH!" she moaned, pulling even harder at my hair;
trying to force my head into her crotch, just like my finger was
embedded in her belly. "Please, Daddy," she moaned.
I figured now was the time; so moving my tongue from her
tight little hole (where my finger was already doing yeoman duty)
I switched my attention to the little girl's clit and swabbed it.
Sandy screeched; then pulled me into herself even tighter.
The child's cunny cramped around my invading finger; making me
wonder involuntarily and nastily just how good it would feel to
have that incredibly tight little hole squeezing and cramping
around my swollen prick, instead of my little finger. Once again
I ignored the "little head"; while trying my best to get the
child off.
Only Sandy didn't climax. I guess at that age, you can't.
Still, she must have gotten some kind of relief; as after an
incredibly frantic minute or two her thrusts, cries, and urgent
stabs with her hips slowly eased; and she finally pushed my head
away from her body.
I looked up, and found my other hand had been involuntarily
rubbing the child's heaving chest ... and my wife's hands had
been helping me ease our little girl's first erotic experience.
It was with some difficulty that I eased my little finger from
8
our daughter's hole; as once her need was over, she wasn't so
slippery inside, and her body seemed to want to cling to the
invading digit, as if to keep it inside her forever.
NOW, I figured was the time to browbeat my wife into telling
me just how our "innocent" little girl seemed to know so much
about my fantasies ... and in particular about the books I kept
over the head of the bed.
Only pants and moans rising from the other side of the bed
of, "Please, Don, Please?" let me know that there was still one
person remaining in the room who liked sex, NEEDED sex, and
hadn't gotten any yet, after watching a porno-show that you
couldn't see in any theater in the land, for a million dollars.
Shit.
Sandy squirmed over; plastering her sex-soaked body against
mine, and looking with me over at where her mother was trying
desperately to get off by herself.
"Please, Daddy?" she asked; this time not for me or herself.
"Mom looks like she really needs it."
Oh God. A person was NOT supposed to do things like that
with his wife, in front of his own innocent little girl.
"Please, Daddy?"
What could I do? Pleading that the kid was too innocent to
see two adults have sex, was obviously rather pointless;
considering what the two of us had just finished doing. "Here,
let me help," I told Marin; rolling over on between her legs, so
my head would be where it could do the most good. My prick would
be obviously useless for quite a while after that incredible
blow-job she had given me ... even if the subsequent sex I had
returned should have aroused a statue.
Many years experience let me know just what my wife liked
and needed when having sex. So, it didn't take long of stroking,
poking with fingers at the right spots, and mostly working my
tongue into the creaming wet slit that was bumping against my
nose and mouth in increasing urgency before Marin suddenly
grabbed my hair in a death-grip and jammed her sodden cunny in my
face; almost giving me a fat-lip, and her bruises as her pubic
bone mashed against my lips; banging them against my teeth as she
fought to extract each urgent spasm of the orgasm she had been
trying to achieve.
Only when Marin had calmed down a bit, did I realize that
Sandy had been helping too; massaging her mother's belly,
tweaking one swollen bosom, and nursing on the other like she
hadn't done since she was two years old. It was only when my
wife started weakly pushing us away that we both let her collapse
in satiated release on the bed.
"Wow," was all that I could say.
"Yeah," agreed Sandy. "Mom really does like it, doesn't
she?"
I could only shrug in agreement.
"I think it's time for little girls to be going to bed," I
finally managed; ignoring the tiny little twinges of resurrection
from my overused prick. Well, I defy anybody with a working
penis to watch and participate in two beautiful women having
climaxes like that, and NOT have some sort of reaction ... even
if drained like I had been. Thankfully, Sandy didn't notice, or
9
who knows what might have happened. Well, it was only a minor
stiffening anyway; not a full-fledged erection.
"Daddy!" she objected. "Mom hasn't read me a story yet."
I looked over at my wife who was slowly coming back to life.
"I don't think ...," I started.
"Please, Daddy?"
Marin seemed to gather energy with each passing second.
"Well, just a little," she overrode my objections. "Then you go
right to bed, OK?"
"OK." Sandy gave me a pouting, "So there," look, before
settling down between us to hear her nightly story.
"Now where did we leave off?" asked Marin; reaching into the
headboard for a red and white paperback.
"Deni was pretending she didn't like to suck cock," prompted
the little girl.
WHAT?!?!
I looked closer at the fragile pulp magazine my wife was
opening up ... "Daughter's Hot Mouth, Book-II" read the cover;
with the picture of a man sitting on a box with a long-haired
naked little girl between his legs, looking up at him
expectantly. I recognized one of the hotter books I had acquired
years earlier, when such books were available in almost every
bookstore in town. "Sherry Murkin" was a really good author.
My astonishment and some anger were overridden by Marin's
quiet hushing motion. "AFTER she goes to bed."
Well, getting angry wouldn't change things now. I waited
until Marin got to the point (only six pages later) where Alex
was jetting his jism into his daughter's tight little twat for
the first time, and Sandy seemed satisfied; stifling a yawn as
she tried to settle down to sleep in OUR bed.
"Time for bed, Honey," I repeated; picking the child up and
heading off for the other room. This time Sandy didn't object.
"'Night, Mom," she yawned sleepily; collecting a kiss on the
way out.
"'Night, Honey," responded Marin with a grin at the sight
the two of us made: A little girl in a see-through nightie
cuddled sleepily in her father's arms.
By the time I had tucked the little girl in bed, given her
MY goodnight kiss, and managed to escape back into the hall, the
feel of smooth, sexy, little girl skin and my daughter's innocent
dishabille had given me almost another full erection. Thankfully
Sandy was too sleepy to notice.
"Now what was THAT about?" I asked angrily; looking
pointedly at the headboard where Marin had returned the offending
book.
"Well, it's your own fault," she told me; not backing down
in the slightest. (One of the many reasons I love my wife so
much, is that when she feels she's done the right thing, she
isn't the slightest bit hesitant in defending her views. I'm the
same way.)
"So tell me about it," I finally gave up my resentment with
a sigh. If Marin felt it was my fault, it probably was.
"Well," she started, "it all began a few months ago, when
YOU forgot to stop at the library and pick up something for
Sandy. You KNOW how she insists on her bedtime-stories."
10
I did. I even vaguely remembered Marin being quite annoyed
one night when I didn't stop at the library like I had promised,
to pick up the next installment of the current tale about sailing
that the little girl had gotten fascinated with. I had assumed
then (and up to now) that Marin had told the child a story of her
own that day at naptime ... and then gone to the library herself
the next day to pick up the next book in the series. I was about
to learn how wrong I was. Sandy it seems, had gotten interested
in something entirely different than sailing books about kids her
age ... Books where little girls did things she hadn't even
imagined.
"Well," explained Marin, "I was ABOUT to read her something
out of the paper, or possibly tell a tale about when I was
young ... when she reached into your stash here beside the bed,
and asked me to, 'Read this one, Mom!'." Wouldn't you know it,
she had pulled one of YOUR books out ... One like this, with a
picture of a little girl on the cover that said something like
'Daddy's Darling Daughters' or something like that. Here, I'll
find it," she stopped.
I waved away the search. "I think I know which one you
mean," I sighed. "So she ...."
"Yeah, she *insisted* on having me read, 'Daddy's Book' as
she called it; not even knowing the title; but knowing it had a
picture of a man, a little girl like her, and you liked it.
Well, I'll admit I TRIED to convince her that it wasn't really
suitable for little girls ... but I'm afraid our teaching the kid
so much has backfired a little."
"Uh, how so?" I asked; fearing, and yet being almost certain
what was coming.
"Well, you know when we looked in the dictionary and
encyclopedia to explain things to her, how those were "grown-up
books" that she found boring; but she was welcome to have me read
out of if she wanted?"
I nodded; now sure what was coming.
"And how we've never really hidden sex from her; giving her
'The Talk' when we felt she was old enough to understand, yet
were worried about somebody ... anybody ... like a babysitter
maybe ... molesting her without her permission?"
I nodded again.
"And we told her that what mattered was if SHE wanted things
to happen that made the difference between 'Good Touch' and 'Bad
touch', not who did the touching, or where?"
Another nod.
"And then we gave her examples of 'Bad touch', being like
that poor kid in the commercial who got pinched ... and that if
she ever felt that way, she was to TELL us she didn't like what
was going on, and would stop it. Of course, we also told her
about shots and dentists and such, where we ALL have to put up
with some indignities we don't like ... even doctors poking
around in some pretty private places."
"Yeah. but what has this to do with stories?" I asked.
"Well, with all THAT, it got kind of hard to explain that
THESE stories were sex-stories ... ones YOU read for pleasure,
and that she was 'too young for'. Like I said, it's your own
fault! Sandy asked me why I couldn't read them to her anyway?
11
If she didn't like them, just like if she didn't like one of my
boring 'Romance' novels I tried to read her one time, she could
always ask me to stop. So I did. Honest to Gosh, I guess I
thought it served you right."
"Oh God," I moaned.
"Uhuh," she replied; more with a grin than sympathy. "Only
instead of being bored or even grossed-out, Sandy seemed to LIKE
these stories even BETTER than the Amazons. So, when I finished
THAT story, she had me start on 'The autobiography of a Flea' and
then we've gone through about three more since."
This time I just groaned.
"The thing I did NOT expect," Marin finally showed some
sympathy for me in saying, "was what Sandy's reaction to reading
these stories was."
"She got horny?" I prompted.
"Uh ... Not exactly," sniggered Marin.
"Uh ... then Wha ...?"
"She felt sorry."
"For herself, at not getting sex?" I prompted.
"No ... for you." Again Marin stifled a giggle.
"For ME?!?!" I felt my chin drop until it almost hit the
floor. "What for, by Jehosophat?"
"For not having a little girl to fuck and suck, like all the
men in your stories do." Marin looked at me with a smug
expression; just daring me to try and weasel my way out of this
one. "Well, you KNOW how it is, when she begs, 'Daddy, Please?'.
I couldn't resist; and neither could you."
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
I decided that the next day I was going to HAVE to have a
little talk with Sandy about "her father's needs". Damn. A
little girl like Sandy shouldn't even know about such things; let
alone being worried if her father was sexually satisfied.
"Needs" and wants are two separate things too. And I certainly
did *not* need little girls to fuck and suck to be happy. Such
things are just fantasies, not "needs". Tomorrow.
The next morning I told myself that the last thing I needed
was to talk to Sandy, when we were both naked or in clothing that
revealed more than it concealed ... like Sandy's cute little
nightgown that up to now had seemed just that ... cute.
Sometimes what would be incredibly sexy on an adult looks quite
cute on a little girl. At least it HAD been just cute little
girl, until Marin and Sandy had conspired to force me to see my
daughter not only as sexy, but as someone interested in sex.
Then suddenly the "cute" little outfit became a siren's tease.
I knew that more than one of my daughter's outfits was
innocently sexy. Only up to then I just hadn't realize how many
of them had been picked out to show the little girl off, rather
than just cover her body and protect it from the elements.
Parents are *supposed* to be proud of their children ... and we
(it seems) had somewhat innocently ourselves been putting the
little girl on display, like a little girl wearing sexy clothing
to a beauty-pageant.
When Sandy first came down to breakfast that morning, I
almost whistled through my teeth in unconscious appreciation of
12
how strikingly beautiful and erotic she looked. The child was
innocently wearing a little black velveteen outfit that consisted
of white blouse with black dress, skirt, and panties ... with the
hem of the skirt almost a full *inch* above the bottom of her
panties, so that even when Sandy stood up, you could make out the
"camel toe" of the child's sex. When sitting down across from me
at the table ... Well, I could hardly eat, from the pain my hard-
on made straining against my pants. I mean, a father just isn't
supposed to THINK about his little girl like that ... imagining
the tight little slit between her legs opening up to take his
engorged prick inside ....
Somehow I managed to fight my gaze and attention away from
these thoughts. Even if Sandy WAS willing, it would be years
before the child had developed enough to take my ... I mean, a
man-sized prick inside her tight little slit; pumping her flat
little tummy full of inces... I mean before show was big enough
to have real sex with her boyfriend. It was far more than the
heat of the coffee that had me sweating before I had taken more
than a bite or two of breakfast.
Exactly WHAT we ate that morning I'll never remember. I was
too engrossed in trying to force my mind away from what lie
underneath that sexy outfit my daughter had brought to her side
of the table.
"Uh, Honey," I finally managed to choke out. Marin glanced
my way; flashing us both a smile when she realized I was talking
to her daughter. Again, I flushed. Still, what DO you call the
little girl who had given you one of the most erotic episodes of
your life, but something endearing? Besides, I always HAD
treated Sandy like a princess; and wasn't about to stop now.
"When you finish eating," I asked, "could you change clothes into
a different outfit, and then come see me in the den? We have to
talk about something."
Sandy shrugged. Out of the corner of my eye I could see
Marin's quiet amusement. "OK, Daddy," she acquiesced. "What's
this about, anyway?"
"It's about last night," I verified her suspicions. "We'll
talk about it AFTER you change clothes."
Marin looked to her mother for confirmation, shrugged, and
went back to eating, while I breathed a big sigh of relief. At
least I wouldn't have to talk to the child about sex, while she
wore an outfit that was a blatant invitation to fuck. Yeah,
right!
As you might guess by now, when Sandy came to find me after
breakfast, the outfit she was wearing made the black velvet one
look almost innocuous. While the dress was a slight bit longer,
it clung to the child's body; emphasizing each tiny curve. The
top was shaped to fit little girl, with tiny bits of padding
where my daughter would eventually have proper breasts; seeming
to emphasize the little girl's budding sexuality without actually
being obvious about it. Underneath the dress, while not obvious
until she sat down, were flaming-red panties that somehow matched
the off-pink dress without clashing the way you might think. My
wife has incredibly good taste in buying clothes ... both for
herself *and* for our precocious little girl. Again, you could
see the indentation of the child's sex in the soft cloth of the
13
underwear ... But this time the cloth was so thin you could
easily see Sandy's skin right THROUGH the material. Even in the
padding of the crotch, you could almost imagine seeing the little
girl's opening, stretching to take ....
Again, I had to force myself to twist my thoughts away from
where they were leading me. Even if Sandy was willing, she was
obviously WAY too young for such things ... and would be for many
years yet.
"Uh, Sandy," I choked, "could you find some OTHER outfit to
wear right now. Don't you have any pants or outfits WITH pants
to wear?" I figured I'd be safe that way. One more sexy little
dress like she was presently wearing, and I felt like I might be
ripping the clothes off, and ravishing my little girl on the
spot. It's strange how having even oral sex with your daughter
will make you aware of her in a manner that previously you never
even thought of.
"Oh, Daddy, do I HAVE to?" she pouted; unconsciously
wriggling in a manner that made my already rampant prick steel-
hard. I could see her objection; having gotten dressed twice
already that morning. I couldn't really insist, but ....
"Please," I pleaded. "Just for me, OK?"
Sandy pouted again; then finally flashed me a big smile.
"OK," she agreed. "But just once more. OK?"
"OK," I sighed. At least pants wouldn't be the pedophile-
wet-dream that her previous two outfits were.
Oh yeah?
Yeah, you guessed it. When Sandy came back THIS time, I
almost choked and sent her back for the pink outfit with the red
panties. Only I HAD promised. Somehow the child had picked out
a summer sun-suit that included a tank-top that was barely a band
around her chest, with some almost invisible padding to make it
seem that the little girl had development up there that wouldn't
be real for several years yet. The white short pants that went
with the outfit looked almost painted-on, with buttons in the
front leading down to a seam that vanished INSIDE the child's
pouting cunny-lips, in a camel-toe that was far more obvious than
either of the two softer panties she had worn earlier. If what
Sandy had worn the second time was a pedophile's wet-dream, THIS
outfit was the same dream come true, with a blatant invitation to
FUCK, if not inspire rape. Oh God.
Forcing my gaze from the child's sex upward, was no defense.
The bare midriff just emphasized my daughter's flat little tummy
and her sexy little navel made me almost want to bury my head in
the little girl and lick and suck the erotic indentation like I
had once blown bloobers in her tummy before it had suddenly
became erotic to even think about, instead of just a funny
tickling thing a father will play with his little girl.
Oh damn.
Deciding that sending Sandy back for yet another change of
clothes, in an erotic striptease and modeling session that just
showed off how sexy the little girl could be, would be just self-
defeating, I motioned my daughter to sit down, while I mentally
told my prick to do the same thing.
"Uh, Sandy," I began, "you know what you did last night?"
Sandy's face lit up like a child who had just learned about
14
dessert. "Uhuh," she beamed. "Did you LIKE it, Daddy?"
"Uh ... That's not quite what I wanted to talk about," I
backpedaled. "I understand you seem to think that I NEED sex
that I'm not getting."
Sandy's face fell. "You mean you DIDN'T like it," she
pouted; tears starting to form at the corner of one eye. "I
tried REAL hard, honest I did."
"Uh ... That's not it, Honey," I tried. Somehow I found
myself holding half-naked little girl, while I tried to soothe
and explain that while I DID like it when she went down on me
like that, it wasn't something a father *needed* no matter WHAT
the books her mother had been reading her suggested. I guess I
was only partly successful.
"But Daddy," she whimpered; wiping a tear from her eyes, "I
thought you liked it."
"I did, but ...."
"Then if YOU liked it, and I liked it, then why can't we do
it again?"
"Uh ... Sandy? That's NOT the sort of thing a father is
supposed to do to his daughter," I tried.
Sandy just sniffed at what fathers are "supposed to do" with
their daughters. I guess Marin and I had taught the little girl
all to well at only six years of age how little it mattered what
Society expects people to do ... or in this case, NOT to do.
"The girls in the stories you read, get to do it," she
countered.
I TRIED to explain that I wasn't like that: I didn't have a
*need* for little-girl-sex, and most fathers don't. And I didn't
plan on forcing HER into doing things like that for some
imaginary "need" on my part, that didn't really exist.
Sandy just sniffed; looking pointedly at my crotch, where my
traitorous prick was almost steel-hard at all this talk about
having sex with my own daughter. "But you *did* like it?" she
insisted.
"Well, yes but ...," I tried explaining.
"Then why not?" she asked. "You like it. I like it, what's
wrong with that?" Sandy looked almost ready to cry again.
"Uh ... I ...." I really didn't know WHAT to say. I
couldn't honestly DENY enjoying my little girl's pouting little
lips around my swollen prick; sucking and slurping until I had
filled my daughter's hard working little mouth with bolt after
bolt of incestuous seed. It HAD been one of the most incredibly
erotic episodes of my life ... My wife's wonderful lovemaking
sessions included.
"Please, Daddy?" pouted Sandy; tears pooling in the corners
of each eye. "I'll make it feel REAL good for you this time, I
promise."
Oh shit.
Over by the door, I noticed Marin fighting desperately to
keep from sniggering. Yeah, easy for HER to do. She didn't have
a little girl fighting to have sex with her, while she tried to
be proper and not seduce the child like I was. Only ... I was
definitely NOT seducing Sandy. She was seducing me with a
success that I would have thought impossible, two days earlier.
"Daddy Please?"
15
I'm sorry, but I lost. "OK," I said; giving in and
expecting to have to face yet another incredible sexcapade that
evening at bedtime, like I had the previous night.
Only Sandy didn't think of things that way. Little girls
seldom look much further away than the present; which is why
parents are SUPPOSED to do such thinking for them. Only in this
case, my prick seemed to have been doing my thinking for me.
With a hug, a kiss, and a jump of joy, I suddenly found myself
with a little girl wrapped around me. "Thanks, Daddy!" she told
me with another hug and big grin. It's amazing how kids can go
from one extreme of emotion to another in just seconds. "I'll
make it feel REAL good for you this time, I promise," she said.
Before I could even start to object, Sandy was already
reaching for my belt-buckle, while I steadied her head in my
hands ... almost like that picture on the cover of the book Marin
had read the little girl last night, except that Sandy was still
wearing the tight little sun-suit instead of being naked.
"Uh ... You don't Have to ...." I suddenly wasn't thinking
very good. Almost involuntarily I lifted my hips so Sandy could
pull down my pants and briefs. I know ... I know ... I SHOULD
have just sat there and refused. But I was long past refusing
Sandy anything.
"Oh don't be silly, Daddy. I WANT to. Please?"
I'm sorry, I was done in. I knew that from then on I just
wouldn't be able to refuse my little girl anything ... any more
than I was able to refuse her wonderful mother. I knew that this
would create problems in the future ... But the future would have
to take care of itself.
Yes, sandy DID make it "feel good for me". In only her
second blow-job, the little girl had learned quite a lot from the
night before. No teeth; and using hands to help jack on my
swollen prick soon had me gritting my teeth as the rising
pressure in my prick almost had me exploding before she had a
chance to get properly started. The incredible sex-show of
changing outfits, combined with talking to the girl ABOUT sex ...
sex with HER ... for over a half-hour had me almost to the
breaking point of cumming in my pants, before she even started.
"Here it comes, Honey," I warned her. It had been
incredible to cum in Sandy's mouth the night before; but knew
that it had probably just been surprise that had caught her
unready to pull off. THIS time I would give her a chance to
finish me off with her hands, so it wouldn't seem so nasty to the
child ... like it would be if I came in her mouth again. "You'd
better stop now," I warned her.
Only Sandy DIDN'T stop. With a, "Mmmm," of contentment, she
just kept on sucking ... even harder. Then I felt Sandy's hand
reach down lower, grab my prick, and actually start jacking me
off into her mouth!
"Mmmmeee, Mdyee?" she pleaded; not taking her mouth from my
prick. The actual words, "Please, Daddy?" being somewhat
smothered and muffled by my swollen penis.
"Oh ... OH ... Ohhhhh!" With sudden grunts and heaves, I
found my hands entangled in Sandy's hair; almost grabbing it out,
while my pelvis jerked and incredible gobs of semen rippled
thought the tube on the bottom of my prick and into my daughter's
16
hardworking little mouth. I hadn't intended this to happen
again. Heck, even when I had finally agreed to let Sandy
continue sucking me off, I had EXPECTED it to be only at
bedtime ... when she might grow bored with it, or (hopefully)
even forget about having sex with her father, if Marin and I
didn't remind her about it. I really hadn't expected the child
to give me a blow-job, almost fully dressed, in the middle of the
day. And this was no ordinary blow-job, either. With jerks and
grunts I emptied my prostate into my little girl's mouth in an
erotic display of incestuous sex that would melt a movie-camera
if one had happened to be trained on the two of us.
This time, not a drop escaped to make a mess of my crotch.
Sandy continued pumping with her hands until no more semen was
forthcoming; then pulled off and milked and squeezed one final
drop out of the tip of my prick before licking that off too, with
one final, "Mmmm," of satisfaction ... as if my semen was the
most delicious of candies or ice-cream
THEN, to my complete stupefaction, Sandy just stood up,
licked her lips with an incredibly beaming smile, said, "Thanks,
Daddy," and left the room to go out and play!
Marin and I just looked at each other, before I finally got
embarrassed at sitting there with my pants down, while she was
completely dressed. I decided that getting my pants back on was
a fairly high order of business ... Before Marin decided to "take
things into her own hands", like my little girl just had. My
wife is almost as horny (if not more so) as I am.
"Well," she finally giggled, "I guess you showed HER who was
boss around here, didn't you?" Marin looked pointedly at where I
was fighting to get my prick back into my pants.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
Then I finally gave in to the humor of the situation; and
joined my wife in a fit of giggles. "Yes," I agreed, "I guess we
all know who's boss around here ... Old King Prick." Well, it
was either laugh or cry. I still couldn't believe my little girl
would give me such an incredible blow-job, and then walk out to
play as if sucking her daddy off and swallowing his cum was just
another "fun" thing to do ... like playing on swings.
Somehow I knew life would never be the same. Better or
worse; but never the same. Still, I was complaining? How many
men do you think would just LOVE to have their little girl
begging to suck them off with their eyes just pleading, "Daddy,
Please?"
17
-------------------------------------------
OK .... THIS story is/was an experiment. Normally, I never
post unfinished stories. This however, is parts 1-4 of something
that was originally intended to be about 1/2 this size; yet as I
write it appears will take at *least* four or five times as long
as originally planned but it might be as much as two or three
times longer than even it's present length. So, in an attempt to
find out who reads the things I post, I'm stopping here ... for
now.
If enough people continue to ASK me to, I'll continue
writing parts as I can, and post them. I'm NOT posting this
story to my website, however, until it's finished. If nobody
responds, then it'll probably be just another partial story
gathering dust in my hopper, until I decide to finish it. Enough
people have begged already for the finished story that it now
WILL end up on being posted whenever it's done.
Yes, this originally WAS a blatant plug for email, or at
least comments. It seems that unfinished stories, or serials,
are the only thing that people notice in the newsgroups
sometimes. Or at least, they're the only things that get
commented-on.
So, for those who LIKE unfinished stories, here's one.
For those who don't, let me know, and I'll continue trying
to finish this one.
Want more? Then speak up.
Don't like it? Then say so.
Don't care? Then don't bother.
I can be reached at: "Frank McCoy" <mccoyf@millcomm.com>
Or, post a message to either of the newsgroups:
alt.fan.frank.mccoy or alt.sex.stories.d
I check each one religiously, for messages to me.
18
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