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From: anais ninja <anais_ninja@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Phoenix Rising - Chapter Two - I Touch Myself (fb fg teen inc oral mast)
Date: Thu, 23 Oct 2003 02:10:05 -0400
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Phoenix Rising
 
 
(c) 2003  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html 
 
Note:  This is my story.  The names and details have been changed to 
protect the privacy of those involved.  Some of this account has been 
reconstructed from memory, but most of it has been based on a journal I
kept during these years. 
 
This is a sequel to _Exile_, which can be found on my asstr-mirror.org site:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/exile/index.html

 
                             * * * 


Chapter Two - I Touch Myself (fb fg teen inc oral mast)
 
 
"Anne," Mia whispered, gently stroking my cheek.  "Wake up, Annie." 
 
"Wha?  Where am...?"  I bolted upright on the cot.  It took me a moment
to remember where I was.  "Oh..." 
 
"Come to the kitchen," she said.  "I've got coffee on." 
 
"Thank you," I said.  "I'll be there in a minute."  Mia smiled and left
the room.  I pulled the sheet aside.  My chemise wasn't bunched up,
like in my dream.  Dana's bed was empty, and the digital clock on her
night table read "9:32".  She must be in school by now.  I rubbed the
sleep from my eyes and slipped into my kimono, getting out of bed and 
stretching.  I was heading towards the door when I noticed something on
the floor, something white, something I'd seen in my dreams.  I knelt 
down and picked it up, realizing that it was a pair of Dana's panties, 
white cotton with a cartoon character on the front. 
 
There was something stiff on the back, as if something had dried on the
fabric.  I fingered the stain; it wasn't totally dry, and I held the 
damp part to my nose, taking a tentative sniff.  It smelled a bit like 
pollen, with a slight note of ammonia.  I knew that scent well, 
intimately. 
 
Dana's panties had dried semen on them. 
 
I dropped the panties on the floor and headed to the kitchen, wondering
if my dream had really been a dream.  Unlike most of my dreams, this
one remained with me instead of unraveling like an old sweater.  Still,
it had that unreal quality and, despite the semen stain on Dana's
panties, I wanted to believe it was a dream.  I tried to put it all in
the back of my mind as I got dressed in jeans and a sweater and headed
to the kitchen. 
 
Mia made delicious coffee, with heavy cream, sweetened with raw sugar. 
I poured myself a second cup as she served me pancakes with syrup.  As
I watched her move about the kitchen, I started to notice something
about her, a sensuality, a fluidity in her movements as she reached
into cabinets for clean plates and placed dirty breakfast dishes in the
sink. 
 
"Were you a dancer?" I asked her. 
 
"Gymnast," she replied.  "I transferred to Arizona State to train under
Komarov." 
 
"The Olympic coach?" 
 
"Yes.  It was right after he defected," she said.  I remembered hearing
about him on the news, his daring leap from an Aeroflot jet as it
taxied towards the runway after the closing ceremonies in Montreal, six
years earlier. 
 
"Let me do that for you," I said, watching Mia start to wash the 
breakfast dishes. 
 
"No, you're our guest here, Annie," she said. 
 
"Please.  Let me," I said.  "You shouldn't be on your feet so much." 
 
"Well...," she said, hesitating before she stepped away from the sink. 
"Thanks.  Just rinse the plates and put them in the dishwasher."  Mia 
sat down at the kitchen table and sipped her decaf while we made small 
talk.  I finished the dishes and started scrubbing the pan she'd used
to make breakfast. 
 
"Is there anything else I can do?" I asked her.  "Laundry?  Make the 
beds?" 
 
"You shouldn't...," she said, standing up to put her coffee cup in the 
dishwasher. 
 
"I want to," I said.  "Please."  Mia stood close to me, looking as if 
she was about to kiss me, her big brown eyes gleaming.  I would have 
gladly let her press those full red lips against mine. 
 
"Very well," she said.  "Help me with the beds, okay?" 
 
"I'd be happy to." 
 
We started in Dana's room, stripping her sheets and putting fresh linen
on her bed.  I scooped up the semen-stained panties from the floor 
before Mia had a chance to see them.  Then we did David's bed before 
moving on to the master bedroom.  I hadn't seen it before; the bed was 
huge, with a lacquered wooden headboard that held some books and an 
alarm clock.  The titles were all self-improvement and sales technique 
manuals, my father's I supposed. 
 
There were more of these books in his den.  I folded the blanket that 
Mia had left out for him the night before.  On his desk was a personal 
computer, one of the first that IBM had started making the year before,
with a small monochrome monitor atop a big beige metal case.  I sat
down on the big leather swivel chair behind his desk, imagining myself
as a businesswoman, someone important, someone who wielded power,
controlled vast sums. 
 
I laughed to myself as I stood up from the leather seat.  I'd seen so 
many businesswomen in Boston, walking around in their skirt suits, 
running shoes on their feet, carrying their heels in a tote bag.  Cami 
and I made fun of them sometimes, while we stood on the streets of the 
South End.  Delia called them "yuppies", and growled about how they
were taking over the neighborhood, driving the cost of rent upwards. 
 
Mia showed me where to put the laundry, inside a hamper in the laundry 
room by the kitchen.  The housekeeper would be by later to do the wash,
so I didn't have to load the laundry into the washer.  Then she excused
herself and went into her office, which had once been a spare bedroom. 
She did translation work on a part-time basis.  Her major in college
was Russian  literature, but she was fluent in Spanish and French as
well.  I asked Mia if I could use a phone to call Helen back in Boston,
to let her know how I was doing.  Mia said that I was welcome to use
the phone in Frank's den.  I heard the clattering of her electric
typewriter down the hall as I walked into the den and shut the door. 
 
Helen was happy to hear from me, though it had been only a day since
she and Bradley saw me off at the airport.  I told her about Frank's 
drinking, how cute the kids were, how Mia seemed to glow from her 
pregnancy.  When I told Helen what Mia had said, how my father wanted
me to live with them, there was a momentary silence on the other end of
the phone. 
 
"Annie, you know that we love you, and that our home is your home," 
Helen said.  "But if you do decide to move out there, remember that 
we'll support your decision fully.  Whatever you decide, you'll always 
have our love." 
 
"Helen...," I said, feeling my eyes fill with tears.  "Thank you.  I 
love you." 
 
"I love you, too, Annie," she said, her voice starting to crack.  "Now 
go, enjoy the weather.  It's freezing up here." 
 
I let her go and sat behind my father's desk.  No business fantasies 
this time, just a decision, the hardest decision I ever had to make.  I
felt the need to write, to make a list of pros and cons.  In the end, I
knew that my heart would decide, but I wanted to get my thoughts out on
paper.  There was a coffee mug filled with pens and pencils on my 
father's desk, but I needed some paper.  I searched through his desk
for something to write on. 
 
In the bottom drawer was a crumpled pair of panties, a familiar looking
pair, pink cotton trimmed with picot lace.  I picked them up, feeling 
the same stiff, dried stains that I'd felt on Dana's undies.  These
were my panties, though, a pair that matched one of the soft cup bras
I'd bought at Jordan Marsh a year before.  My father must have taken
them from Dana's room the night before and jerked off in them. 
 
Beneath where I'd found my panties were some magazines, a couple of 
copies of "Hustler", both covers featuring young women with their hair 
up in pigtails, plaid skirts hiked to show a flash of white cotton.  
Beneath these were more magazines, smaller ones, some of them in
German.  A few of these purported to be guides to European nudist
colonies, showing families together on the beach, by a pool, playing
volleyball, having a picnic.  There was no sex, no lascivious poses,
just naked men, women, and children, some as young as three or four. 
These could have just as easily been snapshots from a family photo
album, except no one had any clothes on, save for sandals or
flip-flops. 
 
Further down in the pile, however, I found more little magazines, some 
in English, some in German, some in what might have been Danish, with 
names like "Kinderfich" and "Lolita Sex".  I thumbed through them, 
seeing pictures of girls younger than me undressing, posing, even
having sex with other kids or older men and women. 
 
I felt a chill run down my spine as I remembered how I had posed for 
Cecil, the guy I called "The Photographer".  I'd started out just 
modeling clothes for him, maybe showing a little leg or my panties, but
it had gradually progressed from there, ending up with the porn video 
he'd shot of me having sex with those two boys from that punk rock
band.  He got busted before he had a chance to finish editing the
movie, but I'd always wondered what he did with the photographs he had
shot.  I didn't think he sold them to a magazine, but at that time I
didn't know that magazines like these existed. 
 
I pulled them from my father's desk, looking through all of them, page 
by page, wondering if I'd see myself, laying on Cecil's white scrim, my
panties down around my thighs, a vibrator stuffed into my shaved cunny.
 It took over an hour, and I didn't see any of his photos, but what I
did see left me both horrified and aroused.  The magazines were older, 
anyway, and the copyright notices inside the cover dated them from the 
Seventies.  I heard the door to  Mia's office open and I stuffed them 
back in the drawer, hurriedly closing it as she knocked on the door of 
the den and asked if I wanted some lunch. 
 
I followed her to the kitchen and helped her make some sandwiches,
which we took out to the patio.  There were some men on the long green 
fairway, riding in a white golf cart with bags in the back, heading 
towards the manicured green.  While we ate, I watched them get out and 
pick clubs from their bags, hitting little white balls into a cup. 
 
"Have you ever played golf, Anne?" Mia asked. 
 
"No, never," I said. 
 
"How about tennis?  There's some nice clay courts here," she said. 
 
"Never did that, either." 
 
"Would you like to try?" 
 
"Sure," I said.  My restlessness was back, a nervous energy that had 
built up while I'd been thumbing through those magazines, wondering if 
I'd see my own face staring back at me. 
 
We finished lunch and I helped Mia with the dishes.  Then she took me
to her bedroom and picked out her tennis clothes from the closet, a
short pleated white skirt and a sleeveless white knit sweater.  We were
just about the same size, at least before she got pregnant, so the
skirt and sweater fit pretty well.  I was about to lace up my sneakers
again when Mia stopped me, pulling something from her dresser. 
 
"You should wear these," she said, "so no one will see your panties." 
 
"What are they?" I asked. 
 
"Panties," she replied.  "Tennis panties."  She held them out so I
could step into them, and she pulled them up my legs, her hands
lingering just a little too long on my bottom.  I lifted the skirt and
looked in the mirror; the tennis panties were covered with rows of
ruffles, like the ones that Mr. O'Hare had bought for me to wear with
that awful communion dress.  I shuddered at the memory of him forcing
his fat cock into my cleft, and wondered if I could just wear the
bottoms from my bikini swim suit instead, but Mia seemed to like how
they looked on me. 
 
"You look so pretty, Anne," she said, her hand resting on the small of 
my back.  "Come, let's see if there's a court available." 
 
She rummaged through a hall closet for her tennis racket, called the
dog and snapped a leash on his collar, and we walked a few blocks down
to the clubhouse, stopping every twenty feet so Schultzie could sniff
or piss on just about every fence post or street sign.  There were only
two people on the court, a young man in white shorts and a pale blue 
shirt, and an older woman with bronzed skin, her graying hair tied back
into a ponytail.  They were hitting a bright chartreuse ball back and 
forth, while he shouted out tips in a French-accented voice.  Mia and I
watched them for a while, until the man caught the ball in his hand and
approached the net to talk to the woman.  I couldn't hear what he was 
saying, but something made her laugh and kiss him on the cheek.  She 
squeezed his hand and walked off the court, slipping a vinyl bag over 
her racket and heading towards a soda machine. 
 
"Jean-Paul!  Jean-Paul!" Mia called out.  The man waved and walked
over, kissing Mia on the cheek.  They started conversing in French,
which I couldn't understand.  I picked up one of the balls that was
scattered around the court and started bouncing it. 
 
"Anne?  This is Jean-Paul," Mia said, introducing me.  He held out his 
hand and I shook it, getting an extra squeeze from him in return. 
 
"My pleasure," he said. 
 
"Jean-Paul has time to give you a lesson," Mia said.  "Would you like 
that?" 
 
"Yes, please," I said.  Jean-Paul winked at me and said something else 
to Mia, making her laugh.  He was really cute, mid- to late-twenties, 
not very tall but in wonderful shape, his skin tanned from the Arizona 
sun, his unruly black hair held back from his face with a white 
terrycloth headband. 
 
"Excellent," he said.  "We start with the basics." 
 
"Have fun, Annie," Mia said, squeezing my arm.  "I'm going back to the 
house to finish work and wait for the kids to come home from school." 
 
"Thanks," I said.  "I'll see you soon." 
 
I didn't think I'd be playing tennis like a pro after an hour of 
lessons, but I must have been doing pretty well for a beginner.  Jean-
Paul showed me how to grip the racket, forehand and backhand, standing 
behind me and guiding my arm through an arc.  It took me a while to get
the hang of serving the ball, and I hit the net more times than I 
cleared it, but that just gave him a chance to stand behind me again
and correct my form.  That was the best part, so far as I was
concerned.  I didn't care if I learned how to play or not; just feeling
his hands on me was enough.  By the end of our hour together, we were
volleying the ball back and forth while he shouted "Bon!  Bon!" or
"That's right!  Follow through!  Yes!". 
 
Jean-Paul bought me a soda afterwards, and we chatted for a while as we
cooled down on a long wooden bench.  There was a bead of sweat dripping
down from his temple, and it was all I could do to keep from leaning 
over and licking it from his skin. 
 
"You come back next week, no?" he said.  "Another lesson?" 
 
"I'd love that," I said.  Jean-Paul gave me a quick kiss on the cheek 
and squeezed my hand, heading into the clubhouse to shower.  I felt 
compelled to follow him, to lather his tanned skin and rinse it off
with my tongue.  I could feel myself blushing as I walked off the
court, back to the house. 
 
"How did it go?" Mia asked as she stood at the kitchen counter,
chopping scallions for dinner. 
 
"It was fun," I said.  "Thanks." 
 
"I'm happy you liked it," she said.  "He's a cute one, isn't he?" 
 
"Yes, he really is," I replied.  "He wants to give me another lesson 
next week.  Is that okay?"  I knew that these lessons weren't exactly 
free. 
 
"Of course, Anne.  You're here to enjoy yourself." 
 
"Thank you," I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.  It was her turn
to blush now. 
 
Mia graciously refused any of my offers to help her with dinner, 
insisting that I relax before our meal.  I thanked her and headed to 
Dana's room to take a shower and change out of the tennis outfit she'd 
lent me.  As I walked down the hallway I could hear the kids bounding 
through the front door, excited that it was Friday, the start of their 
weekend.  As I stood in the bathroom and took off the tennis clothes, I
could hear David and Dana, in their rooms adjoining the shared
bathroom, dropping book bags on the floor, drawers opening and closing
as they changed out of their school clothes. 
 
I stepped into the shower and started lathering myself.  It hadn't been
too hot during the lesson, but I'd worked up a sweat anyway.  As I 
soaped up my breasts, I thought about the handsome tennis pro, how I 
wished that it was his hands on my skin instead of my own.  I reached 
for the shower head, pulling it from its bracket, and adjusted the dial
to one of the massage settings, spraying the pulsing jets of water over
my nipples first, and then working lower, down to my cleft, making the 
soap suds pool around my feet. 
 
I closed my eyes and imagined Jean-Paul naked, dressed only in sneakers
as he served the ball over the net, his cock dangling from between his 
legs as he followed through on his stroke.  I imagined myself naked, 
too, my small breasts jiggling as I returned his serve, watching his 
muscular legs tense as he chased the ball and whacked it with a
backhand stroke.  I moved my hands from my nipples down to my sex,
spreading my labia and directing the powerful flow of water over my
swollen clit. 
 
My legs felt weak as I began to come, and I leaned against the tile
wall of the shower, running the water back and forth over my cunny,
imagining that it was Jean-Paul's tongue.  I pictured myself lying on
one of the courtside benches while he licked my sex, circling my button
with his tongue before lashing it directly.  That was all I needed, and
my legs gave out as I came, shuddering on the floor of the bathtub as I
squealed with pleasure. 
 
Suddenly I heard one of the doors slide open.  I froze, the shower 
massage still pulsing against my pussy.  A hand pulled the curtain 
aside: it was David, his eyes wide as he looked me up and down.  I
aimed the shower head at him, soaking his face and most of his shirt. 
 
"Sorry!," he cried out, letting go of the shower curtain and jumping 
back. 
 
"Fuck off!" I shouted, feeling my face turn red. 
 
"I...I heard a scream," he stammered.  "I thought you fell or 
something." 
 
"Get out," I said, picking myself up from the floor of the tub.  David 
left quickly, sliding the door closed behind him.  I grabbed a towel
and dried myself off, wrapping it around me.  I was about to return to 
Dana's room, to get dressed, when I began to regret yelling at David.  
He must have heard me cry out when I came and, thinking that I might 
have slipped in the shower, came in to see if I was okay.  Instead of 
opening the door to Dana's bedroom, I slid open the opposite door, the 
one that led to Davy's room. 
 
"David, I'm sorry that I...," I began to say.  Then I saw him, sitting 
on his bed, his shorts down around his ankles, stroking his hard 
boycock.  He looked up at me, his eyes wide with surprise. 
 
"Annie!" he cried out.  I started to laugh; this was just too funny.  
First he'd barged in on me and seen me naked, now I was walking in on 
him while he jerked off.  I closed the bathroom door behind me and sat 
next to him on his bed. 
 
"Let me do that for you," I whispered, putting one arm around his 
shoulders and reaching into his lap with my other hand, gently stroking
his cock.  He'd started to wilt when I startled him, but soon he was 
hard again.  David had a pretty big cock for a twelve-year-old boy, and
I wondered how big he'd be when he grew up. 
 
"Annie...," he gasped, enjoying the soft touch of my fingers on his 
smooth shaft.  I kissed his cheek and he turned his head, pressing his 
lips against mine.  It must have been his first real kiss, and he
wasn't sure what to do with his tongue, but soon he had the right idea.
 
"I'm sorry I yelled at you," I whispered, breaking off our kiss.  "You 
were just trying help." 
 
"I thought you fell," he said again.  "I'm sorry I walked in on you." 
 
"I know, baby," I cooed.  "That was sweet of you."  I loosened the
towel and let it fall from my body, reaching for his hand and cupping
it around one of my breasts.  He squeezed me gently as I continued
stroking his hardness. 
 
"Lay back, Davy," I whispered, gently pushing him back on the bed.  I 
got down on the floor and kneeled between his legs, slowly leaning 
forward and kissing the tip of his boycock, making him gasp in surprise
and pleasure.  I parted my lips and took him into my mouth, slowly 
sinking my lips down his shaft as I bathed the underside of his cock 
with my tongue. 
 
David's hips began to move, making the bed squeak quietly as I sucked 
him.  I fondled his fuzzy balls and stroked his shaft with my 
fingertips, feeling his cock twitch and tense inside my mouth, dancing 
between my lips like a small animal.  His penis began to twitch again, 
harder this time, and I could feel his thighs begin to tense.  I heard 
him gasp again, and he began to come, a single jet of semen erupting 
from his glans.  I swallowed his boycum, keeping him in my mouth until 
he began to soften, licking the last drops of sperm from his cock.  He 
was smiling when I released him from my lips.  I got up from between
his legs and wrapped the towel around me, laying next to him on his bed
and snuggling with him.  He gently stroked my arm, and I felt
goosebumps begin to emerge. 
 
"Is that your father?" I asked.  There was a picture next to his bed, a
framed photograph of his mother next to a black man in a baseball 
uniform, the word "PADRES" written on the front of his shirt. 
 
"Yes," he said, looking a bit sad. 
 
"You miss him?" 
 
"I never met him," David said.  "He left before I was born." 
 
"I'm sorry, baby," I said, kissing his smooth face.  Like Dana, he had 
some of his mother's features, her eyes, her nose, but with his
father's full lips and angular face. 
 
"It's okay," he said.  "Mom always said he was a dick." 
 
"I'm sorry," I said again, kissing him on the lips.  "I've got to go
get dressed.  Thanks for coming to my rescue." 
 
"Next time I'll knock," he laughed.  I playfully poked him in the ribs 
and got up from the bed, walking through the bathroom, back to Dana's 
room.  She'd changed into a short sundress and was lying in bed,
reading a book.  I closed the door quietly, trying not to disturb her. 
 
"Hi, Annie," she said, closing her book around a bookmark. 
 
"Hi, Dana," I replied.  "Don't let me stop you, honey.  I just need to 
grab my clothes and get dressed." 
 
"It's okay," she said.  "I was almost done, anyway."  She put the book 
aside and sat up in bed.  I was going to just get my jeans and sweater 
and change in the bathroom, but I thought about it for a moment and 
decided that it was okay to get dressed in front of Dana.  After all, 
she was my half-sister.  I dropped the towel and reached into the
bottom drawer of her dresser for my underwear, picking out a bra and
panties, white lycra trimmed with pale pink lace.  As I pulled the
panties up my thighs, Dana reached for the bra, holding it against her
flat chest and threading her arms through the straps.  I laughed and
sat down on the bed next to her, clasping the bra behind her back.  She
smiled and pressed the cups against the bodice of her dress. 
 
"You'll have your own soon enough," I said, unclasping the bra. 
 
"Titties?" she said, giggling and blushing. 
 
"Those, too," I said.  She handed me the bra and watched as I slipped
it on, adjusting the cups against my breasts and reaching back to
fasten the hook and eye clasps. 
 
"I'll do that," Dana said. 
 
"Thanks."  I told her which of the two rows of eyelets to snap the 
hooks into and straightened out one of the straps, which had twisted 
over my shoulder.  Then I wriggled into my jeans and pulled my sweater 
on over my head.  As Dana sat on the bed and watched me get dressed, I 
could see her unconsciously feeling her chest, checking to see if she'd
started growing.  I smiled, remembering how I'd done the same thing
when I was her age, just five years ago.  I gave her an affectionate
kiss on the cheek and gathered the tennis clothes Mia had lent me. 
Dana smiled and went back to her book. 
 
The housekeeper, a young Hispanic woman in a light blue uniform, was in
the laundry room, placing a load of t-shirts, underwear, and socks in 
the washer.  I handed her the tennis skirt and the ruffled panties, and
she smiled and nodded, adding them to the load.  The sweater would have
to be hand washed, so I put that aside.  As I passed through the 
kitchen, I stopped to see what Mia had made for dinner, coq au vin, 
onion soup, and salad. 
 
"Smells wonderful," I said. 
 
"Thank you," Mia replied, taking a sip of wine.  "Would you like a 
glass?" 
 
"Please."  Coq au vin was one of the dishes Julia used to make, and it 
was the basis of the safe word we had used when she tied me to her bed,
"chicken".  I only had to say "chicken" and she would know that I had 
reached my limit.  Mia poured me a glass of white wine, and I sat with 
her while she finished preparing dinner. 
 
"I wish you'd let me help you," I said.  There was something about 
having a woman seven months pregnant cooking for me that just didn't
sit right. 
 
"Nonsense," she scoffed.  "But if it is any consolation, Frank is going
to hire a cook in a few weeks, so I will be off my feet for the last
two months before the baby's due." 
 
"That's great," I said, reaching across the table for her hand.  Mia
was so sweet, and I was starting to wonder what she saw in my father. 
Sure, he was handsome, and he seemed to be doing pretty well selling
real estate, but he had that dark side.  I'd known that even when I was
just a little girl. 
 
"Speak of the devil," Mia said, hearing his key in the front door.  My 
father came into the kitchen and kissed Mia, and then me. 
 
"Smells great," he said, putting his briefcase down on the floor. 
 
"One of your favorites," Mia said, getting up to stir something on the 
stove.  "Be ready in an hour."  She poured my father a glass of wine. 
 
"Good.  I'm going to take a shower first," he said, giving her another 
kiss and leaving with the wineglass. 
 
"So you two made up?" I asked Mia.  He'd slept on the couch in his den 
the night before, after the scene he'd made at the restaurant. 
 
"This morning," Mia said, sitting down at the kitchen table again.  "He
said he was sorry.  He told me he was thinking of seeing a counselor." 
 
"That's good," I said.  Maybe there was hope for him yet. 
 
Dinner was amazing, the coq au vin even better than Julia's, and that 
was saying a lot.  It was preceded by the salad, and the onion soup, 
served in crockery bowls, a layer of melted cheese encrusted over the 
top, a garlicky crouton floating beneath.  We had another bottle of 
wine, and even David and Dana had some, just a half of a glass. 
Between courses, David reached under the table for my hand, giving it a
quick squeeze.  He'd been so shy when I first met him that this gesture
caught me by surprise. 
 
After dinner we went out to see a movie, something my father's family 
did almost every Friday night.  "Clash of the Titans" was playing, and 
though it was sort of scary for Dana -- she held my hand through the 
entire movie -- David loved it.  We went out for ice cream afterwards, 
and then back to the house.  While Mia put the kids to bed, my father 
said he wanted to talk to me about something.  I followed him into the 
living room and sat on the couch while he poured himself a scotch, and
a glass of wine for me.  He handed me the wineglass and sat next to me.
 
"I think you already know what I'm going to ask you, Anne, right?" he 
asked me, laying his arm along the back of the couch and stroking my 
hair.  I took a sip of my wine and closed my eyes. 
 
"Yes, Daddy."  His gentle touch felt nice, soothing me, relaxing me. 
 
"We'd really love for you to come live with us," my father said.  "And 
it's not just me.  Mia, too.  She really likes you, Annie.  And Dana 
looks up to you.  Did you see the way she was looking at you during 
dinner?  She'd love to have a big sister." 
 
"I don't know, Daddy," I said.  I really didn't.  Maybe if I hadn't 
found my panties in his desk drawer, stiff with his semen, or those 
magazines.  Maybe if he hadn't jerked off in Dana's room the night 
before.  But those were also reasons to stay with him: I felt like I
had to protect Dana from him, the way I'd tried to protect little Megan
from Father Ken.  But I'd failed to do even that.  Megan had almost
died in my arms, her blood on my hands.  I'd gotten her to the hospital
in time to save her life, but I wasn't able to prevent the priest from
hurting her.  That was a burden I would carry for the rest of my life. 
 
"I know it's an important decision.  You don't have to decide now," my 
father said, taking another sip of his scotch.  "I won't try to
persuade you any more.  I've laid my cards on the table.  It's all up
to you.  But I want you to think about this, seriously.  When you
called me I was so happy I could burst.  It was just like the day when
Mia told me that she was expecting.  I thought I'd lost you forever,
and then you found me.  It was the happiest day of my life." 
 
"Oh, Daddy," I whispered.  His eyes were glistening, like he was about 
to cry, but I could tell he was trying hard to maintain control.  I 
scooted over on the couch and snuggled next to him, and he put his arm 
around me, holding me close, kissing the top of my head, sniffling back
his tears. 
 
"I love you, princess," he said. 
 
"I love you, too, Daddy." 
 
We sat there for a while, silently, quietly, and then he got up to 
refill his drink.  I sipped the last of my wine, and as he sat back
down on the couch with his scotch, I kissed him on the cheek. 
 
"I'm going to sleep, Daddy." 
 
"Good night, Annie.  Get a good night's sleep.  I want to show you 
around the city tomorrow." 
 
"Good night, Daddy," I said, going into the kitchen to put my glass in 
the dishwasher before heading off to Dana's bedroom. 
 
I managed to find my chemise in the dark, taking it into the bathroom
to change for bed, trying to make as little noise as possible.  Dana
was already asleep, and I didn't want to wake her.  After I changed, I 
climbed into the cot slowly, to keep it from creaking too loudly.  Dana
stirred in her bed, but didn't wake from her slumbers.  I laid my head 
on the pillow, tired, groggy from the wine I'd had, and fell asleep. 
 
 
                                  * * * 
 
 
Her shrieking woke me up.  For a split-second, I thought I was back in 
the shelter, and that it was Megan in the bed next to me instead of 
Dana.  I bolted up from the cot and put my arms around her.  She wasn't
crying, but she had a terrified look on her face, her lower lip 
quivering. 
 
"Just a nightmare, baby," I whispered, stroking her long curly hair.  
"Just a nightmare." 
 
"Annie...," she whimpered. 
 
"Was it the movie?" I asked.  She nodded and started to relax as she 
realized that it was just a picture, that Medusa wasn't real.  I
started to let go of her, but she clung to me. 
 
"Can I sleep with you?" Dana asked. 
 
"The cot's pretty small, sweetie," I said, starting to get up from her 
bed. 
 
"Then stay with me," she pleaded, tugging at my arm. 
 
"Okay," I said.  "Just for a while."  I slipped under the sheets and 
laid down next to her.  Dana rolled over and snuggled against my side, 
her head resting on my shoulder, her leg between my thighs. 
 
"Good night, baby," I whispered, kissing her button nose.  Dana smiled 
and closed her eyes as I stroked her hair and caressed her back.  I 
closed my eyes as well and started to drift off to sleep again. 
 
Except Dana didn't seem to be sleepy just then.  I'd stopped stroking 
her, not wanting to keep her awake, just resting my hand in the small
of her back, and I felt her begin to move her bottom slightly, back and
forth, grinding her cleft against my hip bone.  She began to breathe 
heavier, a sharp intake of air, almost a gasp passing her lips.  I 
turned my head and looked at her.  Dana's eyes were half open, and
there was an unmistakable expression of hunger on her face. 
 
Dana hugged me tighter, and I wondered why she was being so bold with 
her desire.  Was it the scary movie, the nightmare?  Fright sometimes 
had that affect on me, especially when I was younger, watching monster 
movies on television with Del.  I remember screaming during "The 
Creature From the Black Lagoon" and then screaming later, in Del's bed,
while I rode his hardness, my fear turning to sheer horniness.
 
Or was Dana like me, our father's daughters, sexually precocious,
overly curious about the pleasures our bodies could give us.  I was
Dana's age when Luci and I began our explorations, voraciously
consuming any information about sex that we could get our hands on,
playing with her mother's vibrator, learning how to kiss and make love
with each other.  I thought about Luci as I began to caress Dana's back
again, cupping her skinny little bottom through her nightie.  She
almost felt like Luci. 
 
Dana reached down and pulled the front of her nightgown up, pressing
her bare cunny against my hip, moving it back and forth.  Her sex felt
hot and damp  against my skin, and I began to press my own flower back 
against her thigh.  She let out another gasp as I slipped my hand under
the back of her nightie, caressing her soft cheeks, my fingers lightly 
probing her cleft, dancing over her puffy labia, making her press
harder against me. 
 
I leaned my head forward on the pillow and kissed her soft lips, gently
nibbling them.  Dana pressed her lips against mine but, like her 
brother, her tongue was shy, hesitantly touching mine.  I squeezed her 
bottom and she began to hump me faster, pushing forward against my hip 
and then back against my fingers, her thigh grinding across my cleft. 
I reached down and pulled up my chemise so she could feel my heat
against her skin as well. 
 
"Feel good, baby?" I whispered.  Dana nodded. 
 
"You like to touch yourself?"  She shook her head. 
 
"My pillow sometimes, sometimes Mr. Beary Bear," Dana said.  I looked 
over at the big stuffed animal that was sitting on her chair, picturing
her humping the plush toy, its furry leg pressed between her thighs,
her nightie bunched up around her hips, her little ass moving back and 
forth. 
 
"Let me show you something," I said.  "Lie back, honey."  Dana slowly 
stopped grinding her sex against my hip and rolled on to her back.  I 
folded the sheets aside and lifted her nightgown over her chest, 
exposing her little brown nipples.  Leaning over her slim form, I began
to kiss and lick her areola, making her moan softly in the dark
bedroom. 
 
She spread her legs as I gently caressed her thighs, lightly grazing
her labia with my fingertips before pressing them inside her sex.  She
was damp down there, but not wet enough, and I brought my fingers to my
lips to moisten them, returning to her cleft.  As I probed her little
cunny, Dana arched her back slightly, letting me slip my other hand
around her slim waist. 
 
"Oh!" she said softly when I began to circle her tiny clit with a wet 
fingertip.  Humping her stuffed toy or her pillow might have produced a
pleasant enough sensation, but this new feeling caught her by surprise.
 
"Feel nice?" I asked her.  Dana nodded and smiled, and I continued 
circling her little button, never touching it directly.  Her hips began
to move, her chest started to heave, and when I touched her clit 
directly, she let out a louder gasp and I felt her start to shudder.  I
pressed my thumb against her pearl and started probing her wet slit
with my other fingers. 
 
"Annie...," she gasped.  I could feel Dana getting wetter down there as
she humped my fingers, her breathing growing heavier, a series of
short, sharp breaths escaping her parted lips, and then a deep breath
as she pressed her quivering thighs together, arching her back higher
off of the mattress. 
 
"Ah...ah...ah...," she moaned, and then a long "Ahhhhh..." as she 
relaxed against the bed, parting her thighs to release my fingers.  She
wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me close against her flat 
chest, letting out a long contented sigh.  I caressed her flat belly
and stretched out next to her, finding her lips with my own.  Her
tongue was anything but shy now. 
 
"You do that...to yourself?" she asked, a look of wonder on her face. 
 
"Yes, sweetie," I whispered.  "It's great, isn't it?"  Dana nodded and 
touched herself tentatively, grazing her little clit with her finger, 
shivering slightly, still sensitive from her climax. 
 
"Can I watch you...?" Dana said. 
 
"Some other time," I replied.  "Let's get to sleep, baby."  Dana nodded
and snuggled against me, pressing her warm skin against my own and 
closing her eyes.  I was pretty horny, and I probably would have come 
quickly, but I didn't want to make any noise.  It was one thing to 
pleasure myself in the shower, where the sound of running water would 
mask my stifled cries of delight, but a quiet home in the middle of the
night was another matter.  I could wait until morning. 
 
I woke up just before dawn and slowly extricated myself from Dana's 
arms, straightening out my chemise and crawling back into the cot. 
Dana stirred and murmured something, but didn't wake.  I hoped her
dreams were more pleasant now. 
 
 
                                  * * * 
 
 
(c) 2003  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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