index


Message-ID: <42305asstr$1052309406@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: consanguina@yahoo.com (Consanguina)
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
NNTP-Posting-Date: 6 May 2003 23:36:38 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Daughter-or-Not, Part II (Mf, rom, inc, pedo)
Date: Wed,  7 May 2003 08:10:06 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

All right, I'm sorry I got so emotional.  Be patient with me, please:
I've never told anyone about this before ....

By the time Karen was a toddler, my wife Cindy had abandoned us.  Oh,
she still lived at the same address that Karen and I did, or at least
picked up her mail there, but she had become utterly, unabashedly
promiscuous, going from one "boyfriend" to another, often staying away
from the home overnight, and sometimes longer. I simply couldn't
understand her actions. Any woman might suddenly choose to neglect or
abandon her husband, but her own infant child?   I tried to look at it
psychologically: was she trying to "distance herself" from Karen
because she didn't know whether I, or my slain brother, was the
child's father?  Was she rejecting the child because she was angry at
my brother for dying?  Or angry at me, for surviving?  Or was she
simply an irresponsible bitch who had never cared in the first place?

In retrospect, I'm afraid that the latter explanation was probably
closest to the truth.  But at the time, my efforts at psychoanalysis
were cut short by the constant demands of a toddler. By the time she
was three, Karen and I were alone together: not just alone in an empty
house, but alone in the whole wide world - - - except for each other.
And we loved each other more and more with each passing day.

When do a father's hugs and kisses and carresses become something
more?  I truly don't know.  For the first few years of her life, I was
affectionate with Karen, feeding and changing and bathing her as any
father might.  But by the time she was three, then four, then five,
our constant, enforced closeness began to veer slowly into a sensual
direction.  At bedtime, instead of merely tucking her in, I would lie
down with her, often getting under the covers with her, clad only in
my own "pajamas:" a pair of soft gray cotton gym shorts.  As we lay on
our sides like spoons, I would pull her close, feeling her warm body
against mine, separated only by her pink or blue cotton nightie and
her panties, and I would whisper in her tiny ear, as her long golden
hair, dark and dripping from her bath, dampened the pillow beneath her
head.  Sometimes I would make her giggle, sometimes I would tickle
her, sometimes I would simply talk nonsense to her, softly, until she
fell asleep against me .... but when she did, I did not leave her bed,
but often stayed throughout the night.  I was not even surprised when
I first became erect, and felt my cock began to press and thrust
against her tiny, perfectly-sculpted, cotton-covered  fanny ... I
hadn't even thought of trying to actually have sex with the child, but
how could I deny that the pressure of her little form against me was
stimulating and inviting?  Furthermore, I had never been attracted to
children before, and felt most men's outrage at anyone who would
abuse, rape, or otherwise violate a child.  But now, my world was
changing.  This was my Karen snuggled up against me!  She was either
my daughter, or the daughter of my brother, the war hero; and
(irresistable combination!) she already bore the image of the only
woman I had ever really loved, the faithless Cindy.  She was
absolutely unique!  And she was utterly dependent on me.  Her love, of
course, was as absolute as it was innocent.

So when our love made a sudden switch to a new track, on a warm spring
evening in her fifth year of life, we were both ready.  I am not proud
of what happened that night, but please understand me: I am not
ashamed of it, either.  And I know that Karen wasn't ashamed, either,
then or now.

As usual, Karen took her bath at the appointed hour; now, because she
was such a "big girl," she even washed her own hair and dressed
herself, although I helped when help was needed.  When she called me
to her room, to say goodnight, I climbed into bed with her, as I had
done a thousand other nights, dressed in my gym shorts.  But tonight
there was a surprise.

"Karen!" I said with surprise, then modulated my tone so that she
wouldn't think I was angry.  "Why aren't you wearing your nightgown? 
Or your ... um, why are you undressed?"

She beamed up at me, innocently, blue eyes and pink face framed by the
dripping hair, and replied, "Well, Daddy, um, you sleep?  like this?
Can't I?"  Her voice rose at the end of each phrase, turning it into a
question.

I didn't know that she had seen me nude in the mornings, but why
should I have been surprised?  The only times I wore the gym shorts,
nowadays, was when I was in her bed; it was inevitable that she'd see
me.  "Um, well, yes, honey," I muttered, "there's nothing wrong with
sleeping that way, but why do you want to?"

She didn't miss a beat.  "Because? You do? Daddy?  Why do YOU?  Do
it?"

"Um, well, because it feels good," I said slowly.

"Well, I want to! Feel good?" Her eyes were wide with innocence and
innocent logic.  "Okay?"

What could I say?  And what possible reason would I have had for
saying no?  There were a million things in life that might hurt or
defile my little girl, but sleeping nude in her own bed wasn't one of
them.  The only other objection might have had to do with bedwetting,
but she was long since out of diapers, and accidents would happen
whether she was nude or wrapped up like a mummy.  "Yes, well, you're
right, baby," I said.  "You're a big girl, and you can decide how to
sleep."

"Oh!  Cool!" (Now, where did she pick up THAT word?  Foolish question:
television!) She threw herself at me, wrapping her legs around my
waist, innocently grinding her naked little pussy against my bare
stomach.  An inch or two farther south, my cock, already hard and
throbbing, twitched angrily against the confines of the gym shorts.

If I had ever had any hesitations, any doubts, any misgivings, they
were gone in an instant.  The last time I'd been in a position of such
intimacy with anyone was when Karen's mother and I had made love ...
literally years before.  And now, not only was a happy, giggling,
naked female rubbing her sex against me, but my baby Karen was doing
so: my daughter, or my niece, or my half-daughter, whatever the term
might be.  MY Karen ....

Without a word, I folded my arms around her and hugged her tight, one
hand gently cradling the downy back of her neck, the other cupping her
squirming fanny.  I kissed the top of her head, the scent of her
shampoo better than perfume, and she made a contented little sound,
halfway between a sigh and a squeak, deep in her throat.  Her arms
wrapped around my neck as she buried her face in my throat, and as I
caressed her little ass, my fingertips brushed up against the
indescribable softness of her pussy.  But instead of yelping or
laughing or jerking away, she simply pressed down against my
fingertips.  My cock was now jutting out of the waistband of my
shorts.

"Okay, baby girl," I sighed, gently removing her arms from my neck and
rolling her onto her back.  She blinked up at me inquisitively,
probably wondering if I was about to tuck her in and leave the room. I
reached down and skinned off the gym shorts, tossing them to the
floor, then lay back down on my side and let my eyes drink in the
sight of her naked, unself-conscious body.  She was my baby, my pride
and the brightest light in my life; and at that moment of confusion
and boundless love, she was the most beautiful female on the planet.

"Daddy, I - - - "

But I pressed a finger to her lips.  "Shh, baby, I'm not going
anywhere."  I bent over and brushed my lips against hers in only the
faintest hint of a kiss, and my fingers began to slowly explore her,
stroking across her throat, her utterly flat chest, her tiny
peach-colored nipples, her little belly, still soft with baby-fat ....
and then my fingertips were replaced by my lips, as I literally kissed
her from the top of her head to her little pink toes, which I sucked
noisily into my mouth, producing the uproarious baby laugh I most
desired to hear ....

And then my hands were parting her thighs with infinite tenderness,
and my tongue traced down from her belly-button to her pale-pink,
ever-so-slightly swollen mound.  And I heard myself saying, "I love
you, you're only my baby girl, and I'll always take care of you," and
as she sucked in a sudden, surprised gasp, my tongue slipped down
between her little pussy lips, as my hands grasped her shoulders
reassuringly.

And there, on a warm spring evening, in my baby girl's bed, I licked
her and stroked her and gently probed at her until her little body
stiffened, and shuddered, and  I only had time to rise up and slip my
tongue into her mouth as my cock twitched, and spasmed, and bathed my
little girl's belly and chest and face in the hot white fluid whence
she had been conceived.

Sometime, I do not know when, I rolled onto my back and closed my
eyes.  When I awoke in the morning, she was swrapped around me,
looking sleepily up at me, and although I could not remember it all, I
saw the shine of my seed on her smiling, tiny lips.

(if you want this to be continued, please write....)

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+