Sex With Daddy
by Stephen A. Jones


Chapter One 

The first time I fucked my own father, it changed my whole life. I'd never 
had a cock in me before and then, when I finally learned all the wild, 
animal joys of completely abandoned sex, all the wonderful ways a male and a 
female can join their bodies to bring impossible thrills I'd never thought 
existed, I got so sex hungry I couldn't quit. I did it with my own father, 
and became a sex pervert; but I was hooked - I liked it and I couldn't stop. 
I had to have more and more of Daddy's cock in me all the time. 

But it began long before that first fuck; it began right after my mother's 
death. Daddy had to sell the house because of medical bills, and we were 
forced to move to an apartment. Before that, I had been just another little 
girl - innocent and pure - but living in the apartment changed everything. I 
knew almost the moment we both walked in that there was a feeling of lust in 
the very air of the place. I knew I had to have sex - pure, raw animal sex - 
and I wanted it with my own daddy. 

That move to the apartment was the beginning of our strange life together. 
We began a subtly different relationship right from the first day there. 

There we were, a ten-year-old girl and her father, surrounded by all the 
impossible junk of twelve years' collection. Because we couldn't do anything 
else, we both sat on the floor and laughed out loud. We both seemed to feel 
the urge to laugh at exactly the same instant and , we kept it up for the 
longest time. The whole situation was absolutely hilarious and we couldn't 
help ourselves. 

Finally, Daddy took a great big breath and still smiling, said, "Well, 
sweetheart, which would you rather do, sit here and stare at this mess, or 
go out on your first date? How's dinner and a movie sound?" 

Of course, there was no choice. The dinner and movie were much more exciting 
than any sort of hard work. Although I was anxious to find my room and to 
put my things away, I knew that all that could wait until the next day. We 
had moved in on a Friday purposely, so that we could have two full days to 
put everything in place, and I certainly didn't want to exhaust myself doing 
it the first night. 

Right from the moment I accepted my first "date," Daddy seemed to change 
from a tired man into a really romantic figure. He started to plan the 
evening, asking me what I would like, and as I placed a few things around 
the apartment, he went out to get a newspaper to find out what movies were 
playing and what restaurants were serving what. 

We planned the whole thing together and he even helped me select a dress to 
wear. Then he told me that the following day he would let me try my hand at 
decorating the whole apartment. 

There never had been any stigma to nudity in our family. We weren't nudists 
and we hadn't made a point of parading around the house without clothing on, 
but neither had we run around like prigs and prudes locking doors while we 
were dressing or doing other such Victorian things to call attention to 
nudity. I had often seen my mother dressing and Daddy coming out of the 
shower. I, in turn, had no idea of false or ridiculous modesty. I was taught 
to be decently dressed in the living room and at meals, regardless of the 
time of day. But I also knew that there was no shame in nakedness. 

Maybe that's why, when we decided on the movie and found out the time, I 
asked if I could take a shower at the same time he did, so we would be able 
to eat our dinner without rushing. 

By the time of our move, I still was not completely aware of the changes 
that must have been starting within my mind and body. A eleven, I was just 
experiencing the first rolling surges of sexual awareness and budding 
maturity and that evening in the shower, I shocked myself - these things all 
came to the fore in a way I had hardly expected and hardly knew hoe to 
explain. 

While Daddy adjusted the flow and temperature of the water, I quickly 
slipped out of my dress and peeled off my panties, socks and shoes. He let 
me get into the shower while he stripped out of his clothing. 

Up until that precise moment, I had never really noticed Daddy's body 
before. As I looked at him through new eyes, I saw that he was tall and 
thin, but thin in a way that most people would call wiry. Actually, he was 
magnificently built compared to most men his age - and for many a lot 
younger! 

He had a little .hair on his chest, but wasn't really a hairy man. His 
forearms and face were sunburned, making him look as though those 
extremities had been painted. If I had had to describe his face, I doubt 
that I would have been able to. Before now, Daddy was just a tall man who 
sometimes looked older than his thirty years because of worry, and other 
times seemed almost like a teen-ager. His hair was a light blond and I 
suppose there must have been a little grey in it, but it was hard to spot 
because his hair was so light to begin with. 

Until that moment when we were about to share our first shower, Daddy had 
been just plain Daddy - a familiar face and body that were his alone - but 
that was just Daddy. I had never given either his face or his body a second 
thought. They were merely part of that familiar fixture of a parent I had 
always known and never really seen. Daddy was someone I had always taken for 
granted, but had never really noticed. 

But that evening, as I took the soap and started to rub myself with it, I 
was fascinated by his sexual parts. Even though I had seen them before it 
was as if I had never really seen them! I couldn't take my eyes off that 
soft, wet cushion of hair and the beautifully rounded tube that seemed to 
beckon my attention even though it was obviously completely relaxed. 

And something about it excited me so much that I literally had to reach out 
and touch it - as if some force other than my own was compelling my hand 
toward my father's prick. Try as I would, I could not stop it from reaching 
out ... 

I think my father must have known what was in my mind. At least, I'm sure he 
saw my hand moving towards his private parts. Without sudden movement, or 
anger, or any sign of embarrassment, he simply turned around and asked me if 
I'd mind washing his back. That simple act brought me back to total 
consciousness, although r could never forget my recent and totally new 
vision of his rod. 

I did wash his back, but while I scrubbed his firm flesh, I also rubbed soap 
on my own private parts. 

That was all that happened in the shower. Yet, from that time on, I 
experienced terrible excitement and recurring thoughts of my father's prick. 
And that night, I couldn't get them out of my mind. 

Without further incident of any kind, we both dressed and drove to the 
restaurant where Daddy was a perfect doll of a date. He ordered everything 
for me and treated me just like a perfect little lady - as if I really was 
his date and he were thinking of me as a romantic and mysterious woman of 
the world, instead of his own eleven-year-old daughter. 

I felt as if I were in a dream world during the entire meal. Before dinner 
he ordered me a Shirley Temple and himself a Martini and clinked glasses 
with me, giving me a knowing wink as if we were sharing some great romantic 
secret. During the meal, he told me of the things he was studying in school. 

He was studying architecture and told me about fantastic buildings in Rome 
and Milan; all about the tilting tower of Pisa. I allowed my mind to wander 
with these wonderful romantic thoughts, feeling giddy, half-believing that 
he was a handsome prince and we were dining at some gloriously old 
restaurant in Rome or Genoa. 

Then, the romance was shattered by the memory of my vision of his penis in 
the shower. A different feeling soared through me as truly agonizing on one 
level as it was rapturously exciting on another. 

The dinner was delicious, probably more due to my dreams and fancies and the 
candlelight than to the food itself. We finished just in time to get to the 
theatre for the first part of the movie. 

I don't even remember what the movie was, but I do remember that I held 
Daddy's hand and in the romance of the silver screen, feeling his strong, 
protective fingers on mine, I was as much in love as any young girl of my 
age. 

But I was shy, too. Even though I had been thinking of the memory of his 
penis, I was both ignorant and coy at the same time. Besides, I knew 
absolutely nothing about .sex except what little my mother had told me. I 
knew that babies came from seeds and were carried inside their mothers and I 
knew the names for the male and female sex organs. Maybe she had told me the 
whole story; but I don't think so. All I knew was that I was experiencing a 
feeling that was part loneliness and part childish desire for what was 
beyond my grasp. 

I was half asleep when we came out of the movie - I don't remember Daddy 
carrying me out of the car and putting me to bed. The next morning I found 
that I was in his bed without my clothing on and that Daddy had slept cm a 
couch in the main room. 

I knew something else when I woke up, too. I knew that I must have dreamed 
strange and supposedly forbidden thoughts - my pillow was pressed tightly 
between my legs, against my vagina, and I had succumbed to my first strange 
and compelling urge that morning! As I was waking from a half-sleep, I felt 
my own hand moving tenderly down my bare stomach and under the elastic band 
of my panties. I reached lower, unable to stop my movement and slipped one 
finger into my sexual parts, only to find that they were pleasantly hot and 
very, very wet. 

I became a little frightened by my feeling of hot wetness and lifted the 
covers up so that I could inspect myself. All was in order and nothing 
seemed to look strange, so I lay on top of the pillow and kept my finger 
slowly moving against myself. Then, again, I saw the vision of Daddy's penis 
just as I had seen it in the shower the night before, and I had another 
uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch it. 

The thought frightened me but I couldn't stop the movement of my finger - it 
felt too divinely good and I wanted to keep it up. I don't know how long I 
would have lain there that way, or even if I might have had my first orgasm 
by masturbating, but when I heard Daddy call me, I stopped. Feigning being 
awakened from a deep sleep, I called back, asking what he wanted. 

Never shall I ever forget how handsome and happy Daddy looked as he walked 
into the room bearing a glass of orange juice for me. 

"Came on, baby," he said. "We've got a big day ahead of us. I'm going to let 
you decorate the apartment." 

The prospect of decorating the apartment all by myself was so exciting that 
I fairly gulped the orange juice down in order to get started as soon as 
possible. But had I any idea just how big that "big day ahead of us" was to 
be, I think my reaction might have been entirely different. 

 Chapter Two 

All that day, Daddy was the kindest, most considerate man in the whole world 
- he really did let me decorate the apartment. But first, he fixed us both a 
big breakfast of bacon and eggs, and while we ate, we sat talking about my 
ideas for the place. He actually let me select my own room and what 
furniture I wanted to go where. 

Then, after we had cleared the dishes, we started to work together. He would 
help me move the heavy pieces of furniture and I would experiment with 
colors and placement. I remember thinking at the time that it was almost 
like a honeymoon - I was a bride being allowed to decorate her own little 
cottage. Actually, the apartment wasn't little at all! It had a big living 
room and three bedrooms, one I selected for myself, one was for Daddy, and 
the other was for a combination den and library. We put a folding bed in 
there along with most of Daddy's books and the television set, so that it 
could be a room for either study or relaxation. 

Even though the work was exciting and thrilling for me, it was also very 
exhausting. By noon both of us were ready to collapse mentally and 
physically in the cluttered main room. Daddy had brought all of the 
groceries and stuff from the house, including a six-pack of beer. He poured 
himself one and returned to the couch. 

When I asked him if I could have some, he agreed, but insisted that I get my 
own glass. Now, I realize many people might think such an act scandalous in 
itself - and I can't deny that it didn't confine to the letter of the law - 
but I hardly think that one small glass of beer after a hard morning's work 
can in any way be labeled as contributing to the delinquency of a minor. 
Besides, ever since I was eight or so, I had been allowed to have a small 
glass of beer whenever Daddy did. I guess his theory was that if I was 
allowed the beverage, I would not sneak around, drinking behind my parents' 
back. 

Anyway, there we sat - he with his big glass of beer and I with a very small 
one - completely exhausted, yet very, very happy with our new home and 
satisfied with the work we had done. As we sat there, we didn't talk much, 
but he did suggest that after we finished the drink, we might both go out on 
a little shopping spree after lunch. 

This, of course, made the day even more exciting. I jumped up and went from 
room to room looking to see what I might like in the way of accessories; 
while Daddy remained in the living room with his beer. 

When he had finished, he came into my room and found me standing with my 
.fists on my hips studying the two windows in the corner. He suggested that 
perhaps it might be easier if I measured them, and produced a pencil, paper 
and a tape measure, letting me go to work while he went into the bathroom to 
shave and get ready for our outing. 

I don't know yet what it was about the sound of running water in the 
bathroom that excited me so, but it did. All the visions I'd had about our 
shower the night before seemed to crowd into my mind in a hopeless confusion 
so that my hands actually trembled. Then, when I heard the toilet flush and 
knew that Daddy must have been standing over it urinating, I became so 
overwhelmed, by my fantasies that I actually had to sit down for fear of 
collapsing. Finally I gathered enough command of myself to finish my 
measurements, going from one room to the next, finally coming to Daddy's 
room. 

When I entered, I saw that he was in the process of taking off his clothes 
of the morning. He glanced at me, saying that we could leave as soon as we 
changed our clothes. With that, he peeled off his shirt and unbuckled the 
old pair of ragged pants he had been wearing to work in. 

I just stood there, transfixed - compelled to look at his chest and 
underdrawers and the gentle outline of his sexual organ pressing against 
them. 

"Come on, sweetheart," he told me. "Get into a dress and comb your hair and 
then we'll go." 

I had been wearing an old pair of Levi's and a sweatshirt and I knew it 
wasn't any sort of outfit in which to go shopping. But, for some strange 
reason - for the first time in my life - I felt terribly embarrassed about 
changing in front of Daddy, Although I was fascinated by his partial display 
of nakedness, I didn't want to display myself in any way. Flustered and 
terribly excited, I sat down on the edge of the bed, feigning exhaustion, 
surreptitiously watching my father's private parts as he slipped into a 
clean shirt and trousers. When I finally went to the bathroom, I was 
overcome with something close to fear, and locked the door and proceeded to 
wash my face and comb my hair. 

I don't know what I would have done if Daddy had still been in the bedroom 
when I returned, but he wasn't. I slipped out of my sweatshirt and Levi's, 
noticing that my undeveloped breasts were quite sore, and hurriedly put on a 
thin sleeveless dress. Then I combed my hair again and returned to the 
living room where Daddy was waiting. Hand in hand, we bounced downstairs and 
started off on our shopping spree. 

First, we drove to a big shopping center comprised of several large 
department stores and had lunch. Then we spent several hours shopping for 
just the right curtains and shutters we wanted for the apartment. 

It was almost dusk when we came back and unloaded all the packages in the 
front room. Daddy suggested that it might be relaxing if we went downstairs 
for a swim before he started to fix dinner. 

I was tired and, even though still excited about getting the new apartment 
looking perfect, realized that we only had one more day of complete freedom. 
So I jumped at the idea. It was still quite light out and the idea of a 
cooling swim in a heated pool was just what the doctor ordered. Daddy told 
me to go on ahead, that he would be down in a little while after he had 
sorted some things; so I hurried and changed into my bathing suit. Grabbing 
a towel, I rushed down to the apartment house's pool. 

I noticed that my bosom was still quite sore, but I thought it was something 
that would go away, and didn't think too much of it Plunging into the pool, 
I began to frolic like a dolphin in the crystal clear water. At first I 
didn't even notice that there was another girl in the pool at the other end 
and that her mother was lying in one of the chairs on the side taking in the 
last of the day's sun. But, little by little, we began to splash in the pool 
together, then we began to talk and become friendly. Her name was Jan 
Bradley, I learned, and she lived in one of the other apartments. She told 
me how they had just sold their house, too, and that her parents were 
divorced. 

She was a little older than I - perhaps twelve or thirteen - and seemed to 
take a motherly interest in me right from the very first! Not only did she 
introduce me to her mother, who was a very attractive woman perhaps in her 
late twenties, but she even asked if I could come over to her apartment for 
dinner after the swim. 

I told her that I would have to ask Daddy when he came down to the pool. 
Knowing that he would be there in only a few minutes, we both went back to 
splashing and playing in the water. 

When Daddy finally came down to the pool, the first thing I noticed was that 
he was wearing a knit bathing suit with no support. Up until two days ago, I 
wouldn't have noticed it at all, but now I was aware of his body. I felt 
dreadfully embarrassed seeing him that way, because I had never noticed any 
other grown men look like that while swimming. He must have thought that he 
was dressed properly or just didn't know how prominent the outline of his 
private parts was. At any rate, he seemed perfectly at ease, while I 
remained very embarrassed until he dove into the water, covering himself 
from view. Only then did I regain enough control of myself to swim over to 
him and ask him if I could have dinner with Jan at her apartment that night. 

At first he seemed doubtful, but when Jan told him her mother had agreed, he 
swam over to where Jan's mother was still sunning herself, talked for a few 
moments with her and finally agreed. 

I didn't take much notice of what was going on between Daddy and Jan's 
mother, but they must have clicked right from the start. What I didn't find 
out until later was that they had arranged to go to our apartment while Jan 
and I ate alone at hers. 

We couldn't have been at the pool for more than a half hour or so, and most 
of that time I spent playing and splashing with Jan while Daddy talked to 
her mother. Again, I felt a flush of embarrassment about his costume when he 
pulled himself out of the water and sat on the deck talking with her. It 
seemed to me that Everyone must be staring at his outlined hot spot. I 
noticed Mrs. Bradley glance at Dad's crotch from time to time, but her 
expression was anything but one of embarrassment. I wondered how she could 
even think of looking like that without blushing. 

Finally, Daddy called for me to get out of the pool and get dressed before 
going over to Jan's for dinner. He and Jan's mother were still talking when 
I returned a few minutes later, but as Jan and Mrs. Bradley and I walked off 
toward-their apartment, I noticed Daddy looking after us with a very strange 
smile on his face - it was a look I had never seen before. 

Over at the Bradiey's, Jan's mother fixed us both dinner and then, as We sat 
down to eat, left us alone while she changed out of her bathing suit. She 
came back wearing a pair of slacks and a starched blouse and told Jan that 
she would be back in a little while. We were to eat dinner, clean up the 
dishes, and after we were through, we could watch television if we liked. 
She told us that she was going over to my apartment for a while and that, if 
we got bored with the television, we could go over there. 

Almost immediately after Mrs. Bradley had left, we started talking about 
boys and giggling about sex things. I was very excited about Jan - oh, I 
didn't have a crush on her or anything - but I was thrilled and excited. 
Being older than I, her body had already begun to fill out - she had already 
developed her breasts and they looked almost like those of a grown woman. I 
was thrilled that within a short time, mine would do the same and asked her 
if it had hurt because my bosom was still bothering me. 

She told me that that was the first sign of growth and that I really ought 
to get my mother to buy me a brassiere so that I wouldn't rub my nipples 
against my blouse. When I explained that my mother was dead, Jan seemed 
surprised. Her only thought of family break-up involved divorce. She talked 
at length about that she wished her father would come back to her mother and 
here. 

After swearing me to secrecy, Jan explained that it had all happened because 
of another talking about and told her so. She was very patient and explained 
that her Mom had caught her father "doing it" with another woman right in 
their house. 

I, of course, didn't know what "doing it" meant, and asked her to explain. 

"You know," she said, "making sex, right in the bedroom. Mom came in one 
day, and there was Daddy and this other woman." 

"How do you know?" I asked. 

"Oh, I know all about it," she told me. "I knew right from the beginning 
only I was sort of afraid to tell." 

"I don't believe you!" 

"Silly! It's true! I guess I knew right from the beginning when I cam home 
from school and Daddy was with her in the living room." 

"Doesn't your father work?" I asked. 

"Sure he works' but it's not the same. See, Mom's a secretary downtown and 
has to stay her office all the time. Daddy had a real estate office and he 
could off any time he liked. It always used to be funny because I would see 
him around the house at odd times of the day. I didn't think too much about 
it when he just happened to be there with this woman when I came home from 
school that first day." 

"But how did you know they were 'doing it'?" 

Oh? that. That's easy. I watched." 

"You watched! You mean they let you watch them make sex and all?" 

"No, silly. Nobody lets you do that." 

"Well, then, how did you see?" 

"Easy. I just knew they were going to do." 

"You knew they were going to make sex, right there in the house?" 

"Sure, and I just peeked through the crack in the door." 

Throughout this entire conversation, I hung every word. I had just the 
vaguest idea of what she meant by "doing it" and "making sex", but I was 
trying hard to act just as sophisticated as I possibly could. Still, I knew 
nothing more than what my mother had told me long ago about seeds. I was 
desperately curious about the whole thing! Jan sensed this and finally told 
me the whole story. 

Her father, it seems, had told her to go out and play for an hour or so. And 
she, sensing what was about to happen, had just pretended to leave. She had 
actually seen her father and the woman take off their clothes and make love 
on the bed! 

"He got on top of her," she told me with great authority, "and he put his 
thing right inside her. At first, I thought he was hurting her - but he 
wasn't really. It was real exciting to watch and all, 'cause they looked 
like they were having a ball. He played with her up here and all around, 
then they just sort of did it, bounced around a lot, and lay still for a 
while. Finally they got dressed again." 

"And they did that all the time?" I asked, wanting to hear more. 

"Not all the time, silly, but enough. I must have watched them like that 
twenty times before Mom caught them. I was right outside the window the day 
she walked in on them. Boy, did she look shook! She just sort of stood there 
in the door for a minute, her face almost purple, and then walked out, 
slamming the door hard." 

"She didn't scream or anything?" 

"Nope. Nothing! And then the next day Daddy went away." 

"Gee, and you never told your mom they were doing it like that?" 

"Gosh, no! I was too scared. Besides, you know something? I wanted to watch 
them. You ever see your parents do it?" 

I shook my head dejectedly. 

"It's great. It sort of makes you feel goosie all over, seeing them all 
naked and the man's thing getting real long and standing out. It's kickie 
when you can see it like that." 

I was really more appalled and shocked than anything else. Of course, no one 
had ever told me that sex was bad or wrong, but I didn't think it was quite 
right for Jan to spy on her father or to talk about it that way. But, at the 
same time, I was terribly excited too, and came right out and asked Jan if 
she'd ever let a boy do anything like that to her. She shook her head and 
told me she couldn't do that because her Mom had told her it would make her 
pregnant. 

"Besides," she said, "I'm not even going steady yet. I've got plenty of time 
- I just started menstruating three months ago." 

"Menstruating? What's that?" I asked. 

"You know, your period." 

"What period?" 

"Boy," she said, "you really are a baby. Don't you know anything?" 

"I guess not," I told her. "Nobody ever told me about all this before. My 
mom told me all about babies and all, but not about this sex stuff; I don't 
even know if you're telling the truth." 

"Sure I am," Jan assured me. "You'll get your period one of these days, and 
when you do, you can get pregnant any time." 

I was so impressed by Jan's knowledge of her own body and by the fact that 
she had actually seen two adults join in sexual congress that I kept asking 
the same questions again and again about what she had seen. I was most 
impressed by the fact that her father had had an erection. I was also 
impressed by her knowledge of menstruation and asked her question after 
question regarding what it was like and how she felt. 

Gradually the conversation changed back to boys as we began to talk about 
boys generally and whether we would allow them to touch us if they wanted to 
and things like that. I was even naive enough to ask Jan about what boys 
wanted to touch. 

"They all want to feel you here," she told me, touching her breasts. 
"They're all like that." 

Something inside me made me blurt out that I thought she had a beautiful 
pair of breasts and I asked her right out if I could see them - I mean, 
without her blouse or bra on. 

She looked at me in a funny way for a moment, then sort of smiled a smug, 
proud smile and said, "Sure, why not?" 

Then, right in the living room of the apartment, she lifted up the halter of 
her two-piece bathing suit and there they were, sort of white but rosy with 
the cutest little nipples on them. I was almost green with envy because I 
didn't have hardly anything except a couple of sore bumps, and here was Jan 
with those beautiful round half-oranges. 

I guess my pique must have showed, because I only looked at her for a minute 
before I said something like, "I'd better be going home now," and started to 
leave her apartment. 

She snugged her halter back over her pretty breasts and, smiling as if she 
had something better than I did, said she'd walk me back over to my 
apartment. We hadn't even watched a bit of television, yet it was almost 
eight-thirty, and I was really tired after all the work and shopping I had 
done that day. 

We walked across the lighted patio of the apartment house around the 
swimming pool and then climbed the outside stairs to my apartment. When I 
tried the door, I was rather surprised to find that it was locked. I went 
over to the window to call for Daddy, but before I could open my mouth, I 
heard Mrs. Bradley's voice say something that registered in my mind, 
probably only because of what Jan and I had just been talking about. 

"It's much harder for a woman than a man," she was saying. "It seems the 
whole world's on the man's side and he can do anything he pleases. The poor 
female is damned if she does and damned if she doesn't." 

Frankly, for a horrible moment, I thought Daddy and Mrs. Bradley were doing 
what Jan had seen her father and his woman friend do! Filled with a terrible 
feeling of disgust mixed with jealousy, I rapped on the window frantically, 
calling for my father to open the door. 

Almost immediately it opened. I had half-expected to see him naked, at least 
half-naked, but was I surprised! He was wearing a clean shirt and a pair of 
slacks, and was holding a drink in his hands. Mrs. Bradley, completely calm 
and unruffled, was sitting on a chair in the living room - holding several 
of the packages we had purchased that day, their contents on the floor 
before hen Apparently, all Daddy and she had been doing was having a 
friendly drink and discussing life in general. I felt embarrassed and 
thoroughly ashamed, and something made me embrace Daddy and throw my body 
against him. I grabbed him in such a way that my private parts pressed 
against one of his thighs, and the feeling of him holding me that way - even 
though it was only for an instant - was one of tingling, exciting warmth. 

As Jan came in, Daddy gently pulled me away and suggested we go into the den 
and watch television while he and Mrs. Bradley continued their talk. 

Since the next day was Sunday, and I could sleep as late as I wanted to, 
Daddy apparently was not too concerned about my bedtime. 

Jan and I had only watched part of a program when Jan's mother came in, 
announced that she was going since they had to get up early the next 
morning. Thanking Daddy for her drink, she and Jan left. 

Daddy and I walked them to the door then returned to the den to sit in front 
of the television for a while. 

But my mind wasn't on the TV show. It was racing with thoughts of all that 
Jan had told me that evening, consuming me with a strange embarrassment. I 
was jealous of Jan for being more physically mature than I, and jealous of 
her mother for sitting and talking to Daddy while I was away. I was curious, 
too, about menstruation and the sex that Jan had told me she had seen, but I 
was too self-conscious to come right out and ask Daddy about it. 

Finally, though, I summoned all the courage I had and without looking at 
him, asked quickly, "What's menstruation?" 

He turned to me with the strangest expression on his face. It was as though 
he knew what I was asking about but didn't know, all at the same time. 

"What's what?" he said. 

"Menstruation," I said again. "Jan says it's a period." I noticed that he 
wasn't embarrassed at all - only amused at my misuse of a term. 

"It's a woman's way of building a new home for a child each month." 

I, of course, wouldn't let it go at that and kept asking other questions to 
the point where he finally got up and turned the television off. He sat in 
the big chair and I on the folding bed. Sipping his drink, he quietly and 
calmly explained everything about sex and babies and the facts of life. 

But where Mom had only touched on the highlights of the Subject, Daddy went 
into great detail, explaining the construction of the male and female body, 
the rudiments of sexual intercourse and the cycle of menstrual flow. 

In no way did he deviate from the role of instructor even though the 
information he was giving me somehow filled me with a strange and wonderful 
excitement. Ever since Mom had died, I had been very close to Daddy and had 
learned to trust him as a friend. 

As he spoke to me, my embarrassment seemed to ease away and I, too, became 
more relaxed. Perhaps too relaxed because I began pushing him to go into 
even greater detail about all the things he was telling me. Then I told him 
I was frightened at the thought of bleeding every month and that Jan had 
said it hurt, and that I was amazed that anything the size of a man's penis 
could fit inside an opening as small as a woman's vagina. With great 
understanding, he answered all my questions, honestly and well. 

When the talk was over - if it really was over, since I still had hundreds 
of questions on my mind - I felt emotionally drained and completely 
exhausted. In a way, I felt like a little tiny girl again, as if I didn't 
really want to know about such things and wanted to remain completely 
innocent of all sexual knowledge. On the other hand, I was full of strange 
longings to know how it all worked and if the pleasure was really as 
thrilling as Daddy said it was. 

Finally, I got off the folding bed and walked over to kiss Daddy good night. 
Then, like a little girl again, I snuggled up on his lap and put my face 
against his neck. He patted me on the shoulder and whispered, "Come on, pet, 
let's go to bed." 

Wild visions flashed through my mind as he picked me up. I hoped - yes, 
literally hoped - that he was going to take me to his bed and let me sleep 
with him. Instead, he carried me into my room and placed me on my own bed. 
Whether it was perverse on my part, I do not know, but I feigned exhaustion 
more than I really had, laying on the bed, enjoying the wonderful tingling 
sensations that ran through me as Daddy unbuttoned my dress and slipped it 
off me. Then his gentle fingers reached under my knee&, lifting them and 
sliding my legs under the covers of the bed. Finally, he gave me a soft 
good-night kiss on the forehead and whispering, "Sleep tight, pet," left the 
room. 

But how could I sleep tight? I knew then that I wanted my own father 
physically and yet there was nothing I could do about it For a time, visions 
of his sexual organ flooded my mind along with other visions of what Jan had 
told me. With all the supposed maturity these visions might have shown, they 
were still the wishful dreams of a young girl - dreams that, at that time, I 
never even considered realizing. 

I think there's a little perverse streak in all females, no matter how young 
they may be. To some extent, we are all plotters and planners and connivers. 
Even then, in the last few minutes before I fell into an exhausted sleep, I 
must have been entertaining some seductive plans involving my own father. 

 Chapter Three 

The truth is that I began to plot and to plot seductively as a woman. If, at 
the time, I had stopped to ask myself exactly what I was doing, I would not 
have been able to answer my own questions. Looking back I can finally face 
the fact that I literally seduced Daddy into a situation from which there 
could be only one exit! 

The first thing I did really had nothing to do with Daddy at all. It was all 
part of the same growing interest in my own sexual maturity. I began more 
and more to change my clothes without bothering with my own privacy. I would 
come home from school and strip out of my clothing, standing for long 
minutes in front of my mirror without bothering to shut my bed room door. I 
would inspect my budding breasts, and watched for the slightest trace of 
hair around my sexual parts - always with the knowledge that Daddy was in 
the other room studying for his own school work. 

Once, when I was standing there like that, Daddy came by and looked in. He 
saw me cupping the buttons of my breasts, remembering what Jan had told me 
about a bra, and stopped for a minute just outside my door, looking at me 
standing naked in front of the mirror. A slight frown crossed over his face 
as he asked me if anything was wrong. 

"I hurt," I told him. "It's like I always hurt up here." 

He walked into the room as I slowly dropped my hands to expose the two 
budding mounds of what would one day be my breasts. What a tingling thrill 
it was to stand naked before him that way and know that he was looking at my 
breasts! I was more excited than I had ever been, but he was calm and said 
that the following weekend he would go out with me and buy a bra. 

Then, another time, I made it a point to enter the bathroom just as he was 
getting out of the shower. I stood for a long time openly staring at him 
before he noticed and turned away. But I think my association with Jan and 
Jan's mother is what really started me thinking. It was a result of that, 
coupled with the rapid changes of my own body and mind, that forced the 
issue. I guess I knew, but wouldn't admit, that almost from the first time 
they met, Daddy and Mrs. Bradley were attracted to one another. As I began 
to fill out and develop, Daddy and she started to go out from time to time. 
It seemed that they were always anxious to be together - and to have Jan and 
me together. 

Often they would let us babysit one another when they went out. And it was 
one of these times when they thought we were away that I discovered - at 
least visually - what all the lectures had been about. 

Jan was a very precocious girl who knew a lot more perhaps than she actually 
practiced but who, nonetheless, had taken it upon herself to educate me. 

In the months that followed, she began to date and tell me all about her 
boyfriends and what they wanted to do with her. One, she said had tried to 
stick his tongue in her mouth, but she didn't like that. Two more had wanted 
to feel her breasts. She told me she had liked that, but that when one of 
them had tried to stick his finger inside her, it had hurt. She had slapped 
him and made a scene! 

She also told me that she "knew" that Daddy and her mother were having an 
affair, thought it was really thrilling because maybe they would get married 
and then we would be sisters. 

The idea of being real sisters was thrilling to me, of course. Jan knew a 
great many things and could teach me about life, but the idea of having Mrs. 
Bradley as a mother was something else. Oh, she was all right. I don't mean 
to say there was anything wrong with her. She was pretty and kind and nice 
to be around, but there was something about her that wasn't quite right. It 
was as if she was really thinking only of herself all the time and didn't 
really care about anyone else! I knew she liked Daddy and I didn't really 
mind that. But the thought of Daddy liking her - I mean, really was not very 
pleasant. I still thought about how wonderful my own real mom had been. I 
couldn't even imagine Mrs. Bradley taking her place. And when I thought of 
the possibility of her and Daddy kissing or anything else, I became furious! 

It realty made me mad when I found out that they were doing even more than 
that! I found out one Saturday, when Jan and I went off to a matinee movie 
and found, after the long walk, that we had both already seen the show. I 
had just turned twelve and had really started to fill out, and was really 
taking an interest in boys. Instead of going straight home, we decided to 
fool around for a while and have a hamburger and Coke in a place next to the 
theater where we thought we might meet some new boys. 

Those who were there were too shy to speak to us and neither Jan nor I could 
get up the courage to break the ice, either. So, feeling like failures, we 
wandered on home thinking that maybe we'd have a swim in the pool. We took a 
long time coming back, stopping here and there to window shop and even 
playing a round of miniature golf. About an hour after we left, we were back 
and while Jan went over to her apartment to get into her swim suit, I 
climbed the stairs to mine for the same reason. 

The only thing I was thinking about when I reached the door was the pool and 
the water and how hot a day it was. 

Taking no notice of the front door being slightly ajar - it was always kept 
unlocked because I didn't have a key - I dreamily strolled into the living 
room, padding across the thick, fuzzy carpeting in my bare feet, heading 
towards my bedroom. Just as I reached the hall, I decided to see if Daddy 
was in his room and, without giving the consequences the slightest thought, 
walked right in the door. Then I stopped dead as if hit by a thunderbolt. I 
don't think I could have got the scream that formed in my throat out if my 
very life had depended on it. The scene before me had me paralyzed. 

Daddy was lying on his back in the bed without a shred of clothes on and 
Mrs. Bradley, also naked, was kneeling over him. Her sex parts were almost 
up against Daddy's mouth and her own mouth was sliding up and down the 
length of his erect penis! 

I stood there watching the horrible scene for what seemed like hours - even 
though it couldn't have been more than a few seconds! Daddy was moaning and 
Mrs. Bradley was making little noises in her throat as she let her whole 
head slide up and down the length of Daddy's prick. 

How can I describe my feelings? I was horrified and repelled - but I was 
attracted and fascinated, too. I wanted to scream, but couldn't. Finally, as 
if driven by an uncontrollable flood of conflicting emotions, I gasped and, 
grabbing the door, slammed it behind me as I rushed to my own bedroom and 
flung myself sobbing on my own bed. 

I was aware of nothing except the horror that Daddy was doing something 
terrible with Mrs. Bradley. I felt terribly alone and left out. It was as if 
in some way the whole thing was a personal affront to me. 

How long I remained sobbing on the bed, I don't know, but suddenly I felt a 
gentle hand on my shoulder and knew that Daddy had come in. 

"Go away!" I wailed. "I never want to see you again!" 

He didn't leave. Instead, he sat down on the bed beside me still with one 
hand resting lightly on my shoulders and in a very calm voice asked me why I 
was so upset. 

I was infuriated even more by his patronizing attitude. 

"Why?" I screamed. "Why shouldn't I be? I come in and find you like that 
with her and then you quietly ask me why. I saw it, don't you understand? I 
saw what you and she were doing - what she was doing to you!" 

He didn't say anything for a long while after that, and then I felt his hand 
leave my shoulder and felt his weight lift from the bed. I lay there for a 
moment, relieved that he had gone, and then a sudden panic filled me. I 
thought he had left the room and I didn't want him to go. I hated him at 
that moment, but I needed him too and I thought he had deserted me. 

Suddenly, as I rolled over on the bed and sat up in a panic, wiping my wet 
eyes, I saw him sitting in a chair opposite me, wearing a bathrobe. His legs 
were crossed and he seemed quite relaxed although somewhat concerned. But 
his expression showed a little bit of humor, too. 

My relief at seeing him there dissipated my anger, but the hurt remained 
because in my own adolescent mind, I believed that he had cheated on me - on 
purpose. 

"I suppose she's still in there," I said, spitting out the words. 

"No," he replied calmly. "She's gone." 

Then I seemed to break down again. My tears were almost gone but I was still 
in a state of emotional shock. "Oh, Daddy," I sobbed, "how could you do such 
a nasty, dirty thing?" 

"Nasty?" he said. "Kitten, there was nothing nasty about what you saw. You 
weren't supposed to see it, I know that, but we thought you were at the 
movies with Jan." 

"But she had your ... your ... Well, it was in her mouth! I saw it. You 
can't lie to me. I know!" 

Then he became angry, although not in the same way as I had been. His voice 
took on an edge to it that I had never heard before, but he still spoke 
slowly and quietly. 

"Kitten," he said, "I'm a grown man and you're a little girl. I don't have 
to account to you for the things I do. You've seen something that perhaps 
you shouldn't. But you haven't seen anything dirty or nasty or wrong! Mrs. 
Bradley and I like each other, and when adults like each other, they can 
show it in many different ways." 

Suddenly something I couldn't control came over me. Not realizing the 
implication of my words or what they would ultimately mean ... I blurted 
out- 

"But you let her do it. You wouldn't let me ... you wouldn't even let me see 
you. You're supposed to like me best. Then while I'm gone, you let her do 
that!" 

I had now gone too far - but too far to stop. I was acting like a jealous 
woman rather than a daughter and I had let my father know of my feelings. My 
own mouth dropped open in shock at my own words at the instant his did. He 
stared at me with an expression of disbelief. 

"You don't know what you're saying," he said. 

But I just couldn't seem to stop. "Yes, I do," I insisted, "I want you to 
show me, not some old bag like Mrs. Bradley!" 

Daddy seemed at a complete loss for words. He got up and left the room, 
leaving me to sit there with my own thoughts. How long I remained there, I 
don't know, but finally Jan came in and asked why I wasn't ready. I couldn't 
tell her the truth even though she was my best friend. 

She urged me to change into my swimsuit and I started to undress like a 
robot. 

When she asked me what was wrong, I told her, "Nothing," and then she said 
that her mother was acting really peculiar, and had told her not to come 
over. 

"I'm scared," she said. "Mom said we are going to move right away." 

That stopped me. "She did?" 

"Yes. I don't know why. She just said she had to get out, that she couldn't 
stand it any more. I just don't understand." 

I loved Jan more than any friend I had ever had, but I was elated at this 
news because I hated her mother so much. A new purpose seemed to fill me and 
I quickly changed into my bathing suit and followed her to the pool. 

I would hate to see Jan go, but I think I would have tried to kill Mrs. 
Bradley if I ever saw her again. 

 Chapter Four 

The change that took place in the relationship between Daddy and me began 
then. It was a slow and gradual thing that no one could have foreseen! 
Before, we had been a widower and his adolescent daughter living a normal 
and respectable life. Now, because of my wild fantasies and childish dreams 
of romance, everything was to change. 

Of course, I couldn't know exactly how Mrs. Bradley felt, but from some of 
the things that Jan told me over the next month, I formed some sort of an 
idea. I think she had entertained ideas of marrying Daddy but that she 
fundamentally didn't want the responsibility of a step-daughter. I also 
believe she considered my "interruption" a deliberate and premeditated act. 
She probably began to think that she would never have any privacy with Daddy 
or that I would hate her forever, after seeing what I had done. 

What she said to Daddy before she moved, I don't know, but apparently they 
agreed not to see one another again. 

I honestly don't think that Daddy minded, since I don't believe he had any 
really deep love for Mrs. Bradley. I'm sure he didn't entertain ideas of 
getting married again because he was very anxious to finish his work on his 
master's degree and then go on for his doctorate - and he had a strong sense 
of responsibility toward me. 

As to my relationship with Daddy, before Mrs. Bradley and Jan left I had 
been the aggressor - acting out the role of the scheming seductress by going 
out of my way to display my naked blossoming body to Daddy. However, after 
my "competition" had moved away, a change in our relationship slowly began 
to take place. This change was so subtle that it was difficult to pin-point 
the exact moment when I stopped being the aggressor and Daddy took over 
without either of us ever being aware of what was happening. 

After Jan and her mother had departed, Daddy began to spend more time with 
his books and papers than he ever had before. Sometimes he would even seem 
slightly despondent and quite irritable; although when he was snappish, he 
would always apologize and say some-thing about what had been bothering him 
that day. 

Daddy didn't seek out any new female friends, and so we became much closer 
than we had ever been before. We would study together - and through this 
closeness I gained a great deal, attaining a level of mental maturity and 
open-mindedness far beyond my years. I was at all times aware of Daddy's 
lack of feminine companionship beyond mine. It thrilled me to know that we 
were living together, working together, studying together - growing closer 
by the day. 

As the weeks went by, he introduced me to real scholarly investigation, as 
opposed to the memorization of mere facts and dates as taught in the school 
system. He taught me to reason and to question my reading materials and 
teachers' statements rather than taking them at face value. Daddy's 
philosophy was: Never blindly believe anything you read or hear, and only 
half of what you actually see yourself. 

Even though our relationship tended to seem intellectual on the surface, it 
had become a strong emotional bond of friendship. He still treated me as a 
daughter - a female who had to be educated and taught - but he also showed 
me a great deal of affection in a physical way - affection that would have 
passed unnoticed if I had been a little girl but might have set tongues 
wagging since I was going on thirteen. 

We were always open and free with one another and Daddy became the only true 
confidant that I could really trust. The so-called generation gap didn't 
exist with us. He seemed to understand the problems I faced and the way I 
thought, and everything he said seemed to make complete sense. I felt I 
could trust him completely with any secret and with any promise. 

When I got my first period I got so excited that I called him into the 
bathroom to see my flow, hoping he would be as excited as I. He took it as a 
matter of course and told me he would have to go out for some napkins for 
me. When he came back, I was still so thrilled that I made him help me with 
the new belt and with the pad. This event brought us even closer. 

We used to sit together on the couch in the evening just reading or 
listening to music. I suppose it was there that the subtleties of seduction 
first started. 

One evening we were on the couch, sitting side by side, listening to a 
recording of Beethoven's Fifth Piano Concerto Daddy had just bought. We both 
were totally involved in the music. He had his arm over the top of the couch 
and I didn't even notice that his fingers had slipped down to my shoulder. I 
honestly don't believe he did, either. 

Feeling warm and wonderful, I snuggled closer to Daddy and somehow his hand 
dropped so that his fingers were touching my right breast. And then, very 
gently, his hand was cupping it. Suddenly, gently, his fingers moved away 
and he reached over to the coffee table for a cigarette. 

"Don't go away," I said. "That felt so good." 

He cleared his throat, lit the cigarette and leaned back on the couch 
without looking at me. 

"Please, Daddy," I said. "Touch me there again." 

"Kitten - " he began, clearing his throat nervously. 

"What's the matter, Daddy?" 

He was obviously embarrassed. "Nothing," he said. "It's only that - " 

"What?" I asked in all innocence. 

He took a hard drag on his cigarette, held the inhaled smoke for a long 
time, then turned to me with a vary strange half-lost look on his face. 

"You know," he said at length, "you look almost exactly like your mother. I 
guess I - " 

Again I waited for him to finish. When he did speak again, his voice was 
tense and low; almost as if he had to force enough volume into it for me to 
hear him. 

"Remember, kitten, a long time ago when you asked me about boys and menses 
... ?" 

A strange, unexplained thrill seemed to tingle through me for a second, as 
if I had been touched by some electrified particle of emotion that hit me 
for an instant, shivering through me. I nodded my head. 

"Well, now you've grown to be such a big girl, I guess I just didn't think." 

"About what, Daddy?" 

"About ... touching you ... there ... " 

"I liked it, Daddy," I said. "Please touch me there again." 

He didn't say anything after that, but I could see that he was fighting & 
losing battle within himself. He leaned back on the couch and, still holding 
the cigarette in his left hand, slipped his arm over my shoulders. Gently, 
but far more firmly this time, he cupped my right breast. I, in turn, 
snuggled closer to him and first let my head rest on his chest, then relaxed 
so that it slid into his lap. Under my right ear I could feel the surge of 
excitement pushing as his penis grew and throbbed against my cheek. 

"Daddy?" I murmured. 

"What, kitten?" 

The music - strong and dynamic, and sensual beyond belief - was still 
flooding the room, filling it with an emotion so powerful that it colored 
every nerve of our feelings. 

"Let me sleep in your bed tonight?" 

"What?" 

"Hold me like this," I said. "Let me sleep in the same bed with you." 

He didn't answer for the longest time. I even thought for an instant that he 
hadn't heard me, but finally, after an agony of his silence and a lifetime 
of crashing emotion brought by the music, I heard him say, "All right, 
kitten. All right." 

His words were something between a gasp and a sigh as if he were finally 
facing the fact that whatever fight he was making was hopelessly lost. But, 
with the loss of it, he seemed to suffer some intense relief. 

We sat there listening to records until past ten o'clock. He holding my 
breast, I pressing against the hardness of his penis under his trousers 
until finally, after the last record ended, we both got up at the same time. 

We brushed our teeth together and where he usually turned toward his room 
and I toward mine, this night I followed him into the big bedroom. I knew 
Daddy never slept in pajamas and lately, I had taken to the same practice. 
The shades in the room were drawn and he turned on the light at the head of 
the big bed. 

Neither of us were in any way self-conscious about slipping out of our 
clothing. Daddy still had an erection as he stood naked. It frightened me 
somehow, particularly when he walked over to me, put his arms around me and 
embraced me standing before the mirror. 

I could look into the glass as he did so, and see our naked bodies flattened 
together. I could feel the warmth of his body flattening my breasts and 
pressing against my stomach, the hard pressure of his turgid penis pulsating 
against my stomach. 

Gently, he pulled away from our caress and, with one arm around my waist, 
led me to the bed where we both lay down. I was terribly excited and wanted 
him to touch me right away, but Daddy was not so overcome with desire that 
he would forget the tenderness a young girl needs. Gently, he assumed the 
role, not of a lover but more as an instructor and I, eager to learn - to 
thrill and be thrilled - became his student. 

The light at the head of the bed was still on and, lying on my side, I could 
see the whole length of Daddy's slim, muscular body as he reclined on his 
back with the arched curve of his penis pointing up from its soft pillow of 
pubic hair. 

Very slowly he explained how the penis worked and what was most exciting to 
a man. He showed me the foreskin and the head of his penis and then, with 
just the finger and thumb of his right hand, he showed me how to move the 
skin back and forth so that it caused a pleasant sensation. 

I still hadn't touched him when he stopped and changed the subject to women. 
He explained the structure of my vagina to me and told me that sensation 
there lay in the clitoris as well as inside. Then he reached over and, with 
his left hand, gently caressed the tiny bit of pubic hair I had. I was 
terribly excited by this time and my cunt lips were very moist. He had no 
difficulty parting them slightly and extending his fingers so that one of 
them gently caressed my throbbing clitoris while the other probed slightly 
into my slit. 

I lay there with my legs spread wide, letting the sensations of Daddy's 
fingers shoot through me like wonderful waves of shock. I can't even express 
how good it felt like that. 

Then, I felt such burning excitement that I simply closed my eyes and 
floated in a pink pool of the most intense pleasure I had ever experienced! 

I didn't hear all that he was saying, but I remember him mentioning that 
often women liked it when men used their mouths on them. The words jarred me 
to a turbulent consciousness and filled my mind with an image of Mrs. 
Bradley as she had been using her mouth on Daddy. I could feel the 
electrifying sensations caused by his fingers playing with my most delicate 
parts. I also had a wild desire to touch his prick again and even - yes - to 
put it in my mouth the way I had seen it done before. 

As he played with me and talked, I tentatively reached out and with shy, 
somewhat self-conscious fingers touched his rod. Then, when I knew he was 
not going to withdraw, I clasped my hand around it and, just as he had 
taught me, moved the silken foreskin back and forth so that it and my hand 
caressed the head of his organ. 

Bolder now, because of my own intense excitement and because I knew that I 
was exciting him too, I rolled over and, moving my head down, gently kissed 
the tip of his massive tool. 

He let out a little sigh and fell to his back, letting his fingers slip out 
and away from my sexual area. I kissed the tip of his penis again, this time 
letting my mouth open slightly so that a tiny bit of the magnificent organ 
could touch the inside of my lips and rest against my teeth. Still shy, 
still waiting for any possible negative reaction, I continued this way a 
little tiny bit at a time, until I held the head of his organ in my mouth 
and could roll my lips over the foreskin. Then, clamping my lips tight on 
the skin, I pulled it toward me over the head. 

Again Daddy groaned, but I knew he was not in pain - I was giving him 
pleasure! The very thought of it sent additional waves of sensation through 
me. Once or twice more, I pulled his foreskin over the head of his penis and 
let it slip back always while keeping the organ in my mouth. Then I heard 
Daddy say, "Oh!" as his organ started to twitch. 

But then, he pulled his hips away from me and grasped the penis himself as 
his knees twitched and it seemed that he was having some sort of spasm. I 
knew he was having an orgasm and it filled me with intense pleasure that I 
had been the one responsible for it. 

He held himself like that for several seconds before he got up and went into 
the bathroom. I could hear movement in there, then the sound of urinating 
and finally the flush of the toilet. Finally, he came back and lay beside me 
on the bed. 

I felt cheated at not even being allowed to see his ejaculation. I had 
actually wanted to feel his coming in my mouth, so I felt doubly cheated. 

Daddy lit a cigarette, and we lay there silently immersed in our own 
thoughts. Finally, feeling resentment at not having achieved the fulfillment 
I thought was due me, I came right out and asked Daddy if that was all there 
was to it. He turned to face me, staring for a moment, then put his 
cigarette out. 

"Oh, kitten," he said, "I'm sorry. No, that's not all, not by a long shot 
... But a man has to wait each time for a while until he is strong again." 

"Oh," I said, not quite understanding. 

"But don't worry," he said, as he rolled over on his elbow and gently placed 
two fingers against my urgent clitoris. "That won't be all. You lie back 
now." Without moving his fingers away, he reached over and snapped out the 
light. 

The room was bathed in a warm silver grey from the moonlight shining in 
through the shutters. Although I couldn't actually see him, I could spot his 
outline in the semi-darkness and could sense his presence as his head bent 
down toward me and his face gently nestled in the silken fur between my 
legs. 

When the tip of his tongue first touched me, all my doubts and worries 
disappeared. An ecstasy of sound and sensation and color shot through me, 
tingling every fiber of my being as he gently slipped his tongue into the 
opening of my vagina and caressed my clitoris. 

Involuntarily I raised my knee so that my thigh pressed tight against his 
cheek. Placing both my hands against the top of his head, with trembling 
strength I pressed so that his head snuggled even closer to my fervent 
sexual organs. 

An instant - an eternity - I shall never know! Sensations shot through me, 
burning here, freezing there, electrifying my body and my soul and soaring 
it on a somewhere-seacoast where it finally crashed in roaring breakers that 
would drown my entire being. 

My orgasm was total. It seemed to rock the entire world and fill me and 
splash out from me so that I was no longer myself. I was everyone and no one 
and my entire being was being ripped apart by the softness, yet violence of 
the explosions. 

I gasped and whispered, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," again and again as wave after 
wave of excruciating pleasure tore through me and, like ripples on a pond, 
spread out to a soft eternity. 

Lying there, trying to catch my breath and collect my thought and emotions, 
I was overcome by the complete beauty of what had just happened to me. A 
tiny sob caught in my throat as I relived those precious moments Daddy and I 
had just shared. My virginal vagina was still deep in the throes of 
climactic tremors, my thighs still jerking almost imperceptibly, as I 
noticed that I was pulling Daddy's hair with both my hands. As I lay there 
quivering deliciously, I wondered if this ecstasy would ever cease. 

Daddy had already removed his tongue from between my cunt lips, but his 
warm, comforting head remained between my legs. Letting go my tight grip on 
his hair, I smoothed and caressed his tousled head, dreamily wishing this 
moment would go on forever. 

As Daddy righted himself, I snuggled into his arms, pressing my 
still-tingling body against him, trying to tell him through the pressure 
just how I felt. I was so happy with my new knowledge of physical pleasures, 
and knew that I owed it all to Daddy. There was no way for me to know what 
inner conflicts were battling within his mind; he had seduced me, and his 
guilt must have been unbearable. But, as I drifted off into the sleep of the 
innocent, I felt totally pleased with myself, secure in the knowledge that I 
had seduced Daddy. 

At thirteen, it would have been almost impossible for me to understand that 
Daddy should never have allowed things to reach the point of no return. Had 
he side-stepped ray normal teenaged advances, I would not have been there, 
nestled in his amorous arms, relaxing from an orgasm he had produced for me 
orally. Little did I realize that although Daddy had not raped me 
physically, he had raped me mentally, as surely as if he had torn the 
clothes from me and plunged his penis inside me. 

As a result of that first traumatically delightful experience, I became 
totally infatuated with oral sex - both passively and aggressively - as well 
as completely fascinated by Daddy's penis. My world became a purely sexual 
one in which my primary desires were to touch Daddy's member and have him 
touch me ... often to the point of indiscretion. 

More than anything in the world, I wanted to have his beautiful prick inside 
my yearning vagina. I knew I had to have it there, and Daddy knew it, too. 
He had over-stepped the bounds, and there was no turning back for either of 
us ... nor did we want to. 

 Chapter Five 

After that initial episode, we slept together every night and those who say 
Daddy taught me to be a nymphomaniac or that he was some sort of depraved 
sexual monster are all wrong. I was thirteen and my body was completely 
developed and rounded as a woman's should be. Because my sexual urge had not 
yet arrived at its peak and Daddy's was on the decline, we were ideally 
mated and we seemed to know it instinctively. 

Since Daddy only worked part time and then attended a few classes, he was 
usually home when I arrived from school and we experienced sex when and 
where we wanted, although not, under any circumstances, outside the 
apartment. He was quite definite when he instructed me that our true 
relationship must never be known to outsiders. 

For the first three nights following that first evening, the only activity 
we shared was oral sex. And we even did it "sixty-nine." To say that Daddy 
taught me this would not be completely true since, even though Daddy was the 
one to first suggest it, I already knew what to do - I merely copied the 
position I had seen Mrs. Bradley take some months before. I was proud of the 
fact that now it was I who was on top of Daddy - not her! 

But then, one afternoon, when we were both getting ready to take a swim in 
the pool, Daddy told me that he wanted to explain to me in detail all about 
sexual intercourse - or fucking. I'm sure that his reason for wanting to 
instruct me was that we were both standing there, stark naked, having 
stripped out of our street clothes in preparation for our swim. Every time 
Daddy saw me without my clothes on, something seemed to happen, and this 
time was to be no exception - for which I was very pleased. 

Without a word, I eagerly skipped to the bed and lay down on it. He told me 
that he wanted to show me the way most people have their sexual relations. 
He asked me to spread my legs wide apart and, kneeling between them, he 
touched the opening of my vagina, first with his fingers and then, as it 
became hard and erect, with his prick. 

I watched as Daddy moved his penis back and forth slightly, letting it come 
forward and touch me, then pulling it back as he moved his hips backward. 
Each time he moved like that, he would look closely at my vagina and 
occasionally touch it with his hands to see just how far his tool was 
penetrating. He told me that he would only put the head inside because he 
didn't want to hurt me or break my hymen. 

He asked me if what he was doing felt good and I gasped, "Yes," several 
times, although I wanted him to put more of himself into me. I was burning 
with desire and almost out of control with this new form of pleasure he was 
giving me, but it was not enough. I wanted all of him inside me, not just 
the very head of his penis. 

Yet he refused to go any further. We were both breathing heavily and I could 
feel a difference in his movements just before he pulled away entirely and 
grabbed the end of his organ the way he had the first time I had put it in 
my mouth. I was furious at him, but silently so. I waited for him to return 
from the bathroom before I asked him why he had done such a nasty thing to 
me. 

"I just didn't want to hurt you, kitten," he told me. "I can't get you 
pregnant. We don't want that!" 

My reaction to his statement included pique and hurt and a desire to get 
even with him for denying me the pleasure I thought should be rightfully 
mine. I wanted to get back at him. Even if I had tried, I couldn't have done 
anything about it because I got my period the following day and knew it 
would be four more days before Daddy would even gratify me orally again. 

But then something happened. I noticed when I first started to flow that I 
was low on napkins and had to get some more, but this time when I went to 
the store I decided to get tampons instead. I knew why Daddy hadn't entered 
me although I couldn't quite understand it - not then, anyway. 

He was the guilty one, not I, and I sensed that he might be afraid of the 
evidence left if my hymen were ruptured by him. Because I knew that he still 
wanted me and that I wanted him - all the way - I determined to rupture my 
own maidenhead any way I could. The tampons seemed like the easiest way and 
surely a practical one, too. 

But something else happened which gave me a double idea. While I was in the 
store, I met Sally, one of my girl friends from school who was also shopping 
there. She was with a girl I didn't know too well - one who lived in our 
neighborhood but who went to another school because of her religion. 

It seems that each of us had gone to the store for some purchase of our own, 
instead of family groceries, and because we were friendly, we all stayed 
together as the purchases were made. After we had left the store, the girl 
from the other school, Eileen, asked us if we wanted to come over to her 
house for the afternoon. She said she had found some really wild books in 
her brother's room after he had been drafted and it would be fun to look at 
them together. 

We didn't have anything else to do, so Sally and I followed her to her 
house. Once she was satisfied that her mother wasn't home, she proceeded - 
with a lot of hush-hush theatrics - to dig under the mattress on her bed and 
bring out several cheaply printed comic books. 

They weren't ordinary comic books by any means. She said her brother must 
have bought them in Mexico, that he certainly couldn't have found anything 
like them here in the United States, They had the usual, well-known comic 
characters, but they were out and out pornography showing the Lone Ranger as 
Tonto's homosexual lover and Superman with a super penis. 

Frankly, when I first looked at Eileen's books, I was genuinely shocked. 
Even though Daddy and I had already experienced several mutual acts of oral 
sexual expression, it had been a beautiful secret with me. 

Sex was something tender and emotionally rewarding, as far as I could 
understand, but these books painted it as lurid and spontaneous. At the same 
time, there was something of a terrible beauty about it all. I was 
fascinated by the drawings and by the words like "fuck" and "cunt" and 
"prick" written so openly on the worn paper. 

But my reaction, at least outwardly, had been somewhat priggish. Both Sally 
and Eileen admonished me, saying they knew very well that I couldn't be that 
much of an "old stick-in-the-mud." After all, they said, I was a girl just 
like they were and I must have felt hot and antsy thinking about boys and 
wondering what they looked like when they had their pants off. 

"You know something," Eileen said, "I even saw my brother doing it to 
himself once. He was lying on the bed and he didn't know I was home. I just 
peeked in the door and saw him." 

"Really!" Sally almost screamed. "What's it like? I mean, how did he do it 
and all?" 

"Oh," Eileen gave us both a very wise look. "It gets real big and long and 
it sort of stands straight up only it doesn't, not really. It sort of curves 
a little. And he just sort of played with it for a while. Then he took it in 
one hand and started to move it up and down. He just did that for a while, 
then he shot his stuff all over. It was wild!" 

Sally giggled and seemed to be having trouble controlling herself for a 
moment until Eileen said, "Then he looked up and saw me standing at the 
door. He came right over and told me I'd better not tell Mom about it if I 
knew what was good for me. Gosh, I wouldn't have told on him. I wanted to 
ask him to let me see him do it again, but I was too scared. He was real 
mad. But it sure was exciting." 

Sally giggled again. "I'll bet you wanted him to do it to you," she said. 

"That's not true! I didn't either," Eileen retorted, "I just ... Oh, you 
wouldn't understand anyway." 

All this time, I stood listening to them, dying to tell them that I knew 
more than they did, but knowing that I mustn't say a word about Daddy and 
me. I stood there, listening to them with half an ear and watching them with 
one eye. 

I was also leafing through the books that Eileen had and beginning to feel a 
strange internal sensation as I gazed at the pictures. I can't really say 
that I was sexually stimulated by the books or their illustrations. But I 
couldn't help being aware of sex, particularly when Sally and and Eileen 
began talking more and more directly about sex and boys. 

Sally was saying that she had heard a story of Eileen masturbating a boy on 
a date. 

"Sure," Eileen admitted. "I do that if I like them. What's wrong with it? 
I'm still a virgin, and that's all that matters. Besides, what do you know? 
I'll bet if you got one of them in your hand, you'd do the same thing 
yourself." 

"I would not?" Sally insisted, her voice lacking the conviction it should 
have had. 

But where Eileen was a doer with only one taboo, Sally was only tabooed by 
her own shyness, not by society or religion. 

I tried to avoid being caught between the two girls because I was afraid I 
might feel proud enough to tell them that I had not only masturbated a 
full-grown man but had also sucked his prick! 

As the two girls argued, with Sally wondering how Eileen would ever be good 
with her husband if she was a virgin, I remained apart still staring at the 
books. Actually, I didn't pay too much attention to what they were saying 
because I knew I had to change my napkin. I told Eileen my problem and she 
showed me the bathroom. I went in, unwrapped my package of tampons and, with 
only a casual look at the directions, attempted to put one inside me. 

Since I really didn't know that much about my own anatomy even then, I 
didn't realize how difficult a hymen could be, and I just couldn't get the 
tampon in until I forced it. It hurt, but not badly. I think that I might 
have ruptured my maidenhead slightly, but not all the way. 

Finally, when it was done, I came out to Eileen's room to hear her say, "Is 
that so? Well, smarty, I'll just show you something. I've got another book 
that shows everything anybody needs to know!" With that, she walked over to 
the closet, rummaged around inside for a moment and came back with a small 
book which was showed to both of us. It looked like a serious book but was 
full of pictures of a man and a woman in all sorts of positions showing 
sexual intercourse. 

We all looked at the pictures together, and Sally had to admit that, even if 
a girl was a virgin, she could learn a lot just from looking at the 
pictures. I didn't say anything. I just stared at the pictures and let one 
etch itself in my mind. In it, the man was lying on his back and the woman 
was sitting on top of him, straddling him. I realized that, in such a 
position, the woman could control the depth of penetration entirely. 

After we had all looked at the book, Eileen put it away because her mother 
would be home pretty soon. Sally and I left. 

On the walk home, before we parted, she confessed to me that she was very 
sexually excited and wished she was not so shy because she was really dying 
to have sex with some boy. 

"Sometimes I just don't know what to do about it. I mean, I hear about how 
great it is and then I just sort of get all antsy when a boy even wants to 
kiss me. It's terrible." 

I felt like telling her about Daddy and me, but I knew better. Instead, I 
asked her what she did when she felt like that. 

"Oh," she said, "you know." 

"No, what?" 

"You know," she said again. "I ... well ... I play with it ..." 

We walked on in silence for a while before, with a streak of boldness I 
never knew she had, Sally began to confess her masturbation practices to me. 
I was so interested in what she was saying that I walked along with her, not 
realizing that I hadn't taken the turn to my apartment house. But it was 
still not that late, so I followed her to her house where she continued her 
confession while I listened avidly. 

In her room, she showed me her "thing." It was the end of a broom handle 
that she said she would put inside herself, working it back and forth until 
she felt really good. 

I must have been the world's best listener, because she even sat down on her 
bed, slipped out of her panties and said she would show me how. She spread 
her legs apart and played with the moist pink folds of her vagina with her 
fingers, brushing her clitoris gently. Then lying on her back with her knees 
up, she took the broom handle and slowly let it slip all the way inside her! 
It was only about a foot long, but half of it sunk into her all the way. She 
was looking at me all the time she was doing it to herself, breathing very 
heavily and telling me how good it felt. 

Then, after several moments of pushing and pulling on the piece of wood, she 
said, "Now, I'm going to come off and that's the best part. I can feel it 
about to ... oh, yes ... it's so good ... " 

She gave a little gasp and tried to push the handle into herself even 
farther. Suddenly she seemed to collapse as she let her legs drop and, still 
with the handle in her, lay on the bed breathing very heavily, a dreamy 
smile kind of playing across her lips. 

After she had recovered, she asked me if I wanted to try it myself. But I 
told her I couldn't since I was menstruating. Besides that, I was afraid it 
would break my hymen and hurt a lot. 

"Silly, it doesn't hurt when you break it. Oh, maybe it hurts a little, I 
guess, but all the rest is so good, you hardly notice it. You sure you don't 
want to try?" 

I shook my head and told her I'd better get home. She seemed really 
disappointed because she wanted to share her masturbation with someone who 
was a friend, someone to be trusted. 

As I started to leave, she slipped into her panties again and just as I got 
to the door of her room, she asked hesitantly, "You won't tell anyone, will 
you? I mean, about this and all?" 

"No," I said. "I won't tell. You should know that!" 

She saw me to the door and I started home just as her mother and father 
drove up and parked in the driveway. I waved to them as if nothing had 
happened and headed for the apartment. But my thoughts were far from being 
as casual as my actions and I knew I had been through a rather unique day. I 
still had visions of the pictures in the books before me. 

Watching Sally with her slim rounded legs bent and her tiny but firm breasts 
pressing against her bodice as she masturbated herself with part of a broom 
handle had been very exciting for me, too. I couldn't get the thought out of 
my mind and I knew I wanted to see her do it again. But I had been terribly 
embarrassed about my period and thought that my flow might have been 
offensive to her. 

Now I wandered home with thoughts on my mind that I couldn't even express to 
Daddy, my most trusted friend and confidant. 

That night, we ate dinner quietly, as if nothing was wrong and I even 
reached over the table a couple of times to hold his hand and feel his 
gentle fingers squeeze mine. As we were clearing the dishes, he asked me if 
I wanted to go to a movie that night and I said yes. We looked through the 
evening paper and decided on a show we liked at a nearby drive-in and 
decided to go there after the dishes were done. 

We arrived just before showtime and made ourselves comfortable. As the 
cartoons started, I slid over on the seat, put my head against Daddy's 
shoulder and the palm of my hands on his right thigh. 

Actually, I was just thinking of being close to him - nothing more. But 
closeness itself can be a drug. As the show continued, the sky got really 
dark and the feeling of tight isolation in the car became more apparent, and 
the closeness itself changed into an overwhelming desire to touch and be 
touched. The pictures I had seen that afternoon and Sally's masturbation had 
really stimulated me. 

Still with my head on Daddy's shoulder, I let my hand move slightly over his 
thigh. At first, I just caressed his thigh as I watched the movie. Then, 
feeling bolder and knowing now that he wouldn't stop me, I let my fingers 
move to his lap and gently slide half way between his legs so that I could 
feel his penis under them. 

I was not surprised that it was already hard. Ever so gently, I increased 
the pressure of my fingers on it giving it a lover's squeeze. 

"Don't, kitten," he whispered. 

"Why, Daddy?" 

"Not here, kitten. People will see us." 

"They can't see into the car. It's already very dark outside," I said as my 
fingers began to inch up the length of his fly until I found the top of the 
zipper of his pants. 

He mumbled something else, but I did not hear it and his protestations were 
not strong. Very slowly, I inched the zipper of Daddy's fly down and reached 
inside until my fingertips touched the hard, silken length of his penis. 
Then, still very slowly, I inched my fingers around it and drew it forth so 
that it was standing up in his lap like a small puppet for me to play with. 

I was fascinated by the look of it and the hardness of it. With my head 
still on Daddy's shoulder, I touched it slightly as I watched my hand 
moving. Then, allowing my fingers to encircle it and my hand to squeeze the 
loose skin slightly and pull it all the way down, I held it there for a 
moment, then inched my hand up, stopping again as Daddy let out a sigh. 

"Oh, kitten," he said. "That feels so good!" 

"Do you really like it?" I asked. 

"Yes, kitten ... " 

Again, I let my hand slide the length of his erect organ as I myself 
experienced a trembling of fantastic pleasure at what I was doing. We were 
both aware of the movie flashing on the screen in front of us as well as the 
sexual act we were performing. Though he might still have been suffering 
under some socially implanted guilt feelings, I could sense that they were 
falling away from him with every slight movement of my hand. 

I continued very slowly to move my fingers up and down the length of his 
penis until he whispered again, "Don't, kitten. I'll come ... " 

"But I want you to, Daddy. I want to see you come," I said. 

He tried to pull away from me then, but I held tighter and moved my hand 
faster up and down, watching his organ all the time until its love fluid 
jumped out of the end, seemed to hang suspended for a moment over his lap 
and then fell in a scalding warmth over my fingers and knuckles. 

We sat there just like that for a while without speaking, and then he broke 
the silence. Taking a handkerchief from his coat pocket, he wiped away the 
telltale signs of his orgasm and said, "We mustn't do this any more, kitten. 
We've got to stop this sort of thing!" 

"Why, Daddy?" I asked. "Didn't you like what I did to you?" 

"Yes, but ... well, it's not right." 

"Why?" I asked again. 

"Well," he said, "a father and his daughter are not supposed to ... to play 
like this!" 

Again I asked him why, this time adding that I liked what I was doing, that 
it gave me a funny, wonderful feeling to touch him like that. 

He then began to explain the horrible incest taboo in all its ramifications, 
why something like this could ruin a family and cause terrible problems for 
the people who did it. He told me that he was more guilty than I. That if 
anyone knew of what we had done, he might even go to jail. 

I listened and, even then, understood it all. But I had my arguments, too. 
Apparently my logic, coupled with Daddy's own desire for me which he could 
no longer deny, began to shatter his feelings of guilt. How could something 
like this, I asked him, ruin a family when we two were the only members of 
the family? How could anyone judge us if they didn't know about us? How 
could anything so beautiful and thrilling ever be wrong? 

He did try to answer my questions, but his replies lacked conviction and the 
conversation rambled and then stopped. Finally, we both turned to watch the 
movie, my hand still on his penis and now, his arm around my shoulders. 

That night, as we had for some time, we slept in the same bed, both naked, 
both snuggled tight to one another. Even if I couldn't have expressed it so 
well at the time, I'm sure that I knew then that we were no longer merely a 
father and his daughter. Even though we had not yet experienced the full 
challenge and reward of sexual intercourse, we had become a middle-aged man 
and his teen-aged mistress. We were lovers and our feelings for one another 
were completely sincere. 

I was totally and completely in love. My love for Daddy was a mixture of a 
teen-aged girl's first crush and a woman's feelings of mature affection; a 
love of tenderness and consideration, but one of strange and consuming 
desire - desire that would grow even greater as Daddy's feelings of guilt 
began to vanish completely. 

But before they were to disappear like morning mist under a noon sun, there 
was still a final act that had to be performed - the complete union that 
could only be possible once my hymen was ruptured. After that, our 
relationship could be nothing but total commitment, or hopeless failure. 

 Chapter Six 

The exact moment of the ultimate change in our association came the night of 
the day my period ended. It was a week night, and I still had almost a month 
of school left before vacation time. 

Daddy and I had been in the habit of showering together every morning or 
evening, and I began experiencing an increased sexual urge, perhaps as a 
result of abstinence during my "time" of increasing maturity. 

This night, in the bathroom, I mentioned to Daddy that my flow had stopped 
and he explained how I must douche to make sure my internal areas were 
absolutely clean. This he said could be done by thorough washing, but the 
best way would be to use a douching syringe. 

After I had cleaned myself thoroughly as he directed, we both went to bed. 
Almost instantly, I was thrilled to have his arms go around me and to feel 
his mouth gently kissing my ears and neck as his fingers ran tingles of fire 
through my breasts and along my stomach. I responded to his caresses by 
kissing him back and by stroking his erect organ. After playing with my 
vagina for some moments, he slipped down in the bed and began to lick me 
there. 

The pleasure was so intense, I almost forgot about the plan I had conceived 
as a result of my meeting with Eileen and Sally. But I became so wild with 
searing pleasure that I allowed him to do it to me until I could no longer 
keep myself under control and spasmed into a deliciously swelling orgasm. 

I was only completed a moment before another swell of desire seemed to 
expand within me. I reached over in the bed and caressed Daddy's penis with 
my hand, then gently pushed him so that he rolled over onto his back. 

"Let me do you, too," I whispered. "I like to taste you." 

He relaxed and I started kissing the tip of his erect penis. The lights were 
out and we could barely see one another, which played right into my plan. 
Kneeling between his legs, I bent my head down to him until I was in such a 
position that with the slightest possible movement I would be able to 
straddle him quickly. 

Just before I made my move, my mind was clouded over with doubts, but my 
desire and love soon cleared them away. My only fear was that he might pull 
away from me before I had completed my plan. 

Gently, I substituted my vaginal lips for my mouth, placing Daddy's penis 
ever so lightly against my hole. A surge of joy raced through me as I 
realized that Daddy was not aware of the difference. 

With all my strength, I sat down hard - plunging his beautiful erection deep 
within me. A sharp ripping sensation shot through me as my hymen ruptured 
... then the full hardness of his penis filled me with the passionate love I 
had wanted so badly. 

Daddy gasped, "No, kitten ... no ... " But it was much too late for 
protests. 

He was inside me and we were both slaves to our intertwined emotions. It 
felt beautiful as I moved up and down on him, pressing his organ against the 
tenderness of my newly opened vagina. I knew that he was moving with me 
underneath. But then he gave a surge of muscle strength and, still inside 
me, rolled so that I was on my back and he was on top of me. 

His hands went under my buttocks and my legs twined around his back so that 
the heels of my feet played a tattoo on his naked back. His lips found mine 
and the huge, wonderful pressure of him inside me tore me and thrilled me so 
that I felt I must be going insane with the pleasure of it. 

I must have screamed in my intense pleasure! I felt one hand move from under 
me and gently cup itself over my mouth as the piston-like movement seemed to 
increase to a point where I knew I could no longer stand it. 

I remember yelling into the hand covering my mouth, "Come in me! Come off in 
me!" 

And then it happened. My entire body and soul seemed to explode at the same 
time and shatter throughout all of the universe and all of time. I was 
there, but I was not there. I was floating in space and rolling in a hot 
surf and writhing to get even more of his penis in me. 

He shuddered, too, and his legs moved as if he were trying to sink the whole 
of his body inside me - and I wanted him to. I wanted to devour the whole of 
him inside me and have all of him fill me. 

We had both come together and for hours, it seems, writhed with the 
intensity of it until we were both drained of every shred of sensation any 
two people could be capable of. 

We lay exhausted, both staring at the dim ceiling above us, without 
speaking. But words were no longer necessary and the soft in and out swell 
of our breathing filled the room with a warmth and tenderness that any words 
could have destroyed. 

Gently, I moved my hand so that I could touch his penis again. It was not a 
movement of desire for I was drained c f longing. I just wanted to touch the 
part of him that had given me such total physical and emotional pleasure. 

It was almost soft and very wet with the lubrication that had so recently 
welcomed it inside me. I let my fingers slide over the moist length of it 
and, quietly played with him that way, until he rolled over to get and light 
a cigarette. 

Once he had done that, he turned to me and said, "Kitten, I love you. I love 
you more than anything in the world." 

"I love you, too, Daddy," I said. "That was so good. I never knew anything 
could be that good." 

"Yes, kitten," he said. "Yes ... " he took a long drag on the cigarette and 
seemed to be thinking about how he was going to phrase his next remark. 
Finally, he said, "Kitten, you know, you can't become pregnant. It would be 
terrible. I mean, you're not going to tonight probably because you just 
stopped your period, but you never know." 

He went on to tell me of various ways of contraception, and we agreed that 
the Pill would be the easiest for me because that way our flesh could still 
enjoy all the added pleasure of direct contact while in the throes of 
passion. 

We were still talking about this long after he had finished his cigarette. 
Perhaps even a dispassionate discussion like that was enough in itself to 
make the desire well within me a third time. I reached again for his prick, 
still soft, lying like a dead soldier on his pillow of wiry pubic hair. 

"Let's do it again, Daddy," I said; "and make it last all night." 

"It only works once, kitten," he whispered and gave a soft, embarrassed 
laugh. 

But I continued to stroke him with my fingers and felt a slow, slight 
growth. I turned in the bed and slid down so that I was lying on my stomach 
with my head in his lap. Our bodies formed a T as I took his soft organ in 
my mouth. Again he gasped in pleasure as his right arm reached around and I 
felt the gentle excitement and added lubrication as two of his fingers 
slipped into me, moving back and forth against my fuck-button. 

As I savored the taste of both of our fluids on his penis and ran my tongue 
over the length of it, I could feel it swell in my mouth. I massaged his 
scrotum and testicles with one hand and massaged the foreskin with the other 
as I constantly worked my lips and tongue over the organ. 

And then, when it was hard, I again moved so that I could straddle him. This 
time, there was no barrier within me to impede his entrance and no barrier 
of conscience within him, for they had both shattered with the pleasure we 
had just shared. Besides, as he told me later, he had not been able to get a 
second erection in years and the thrill of it seemed to increase with his 
own desires even more. 

This time, he lay on his back and I alone moved so that I was in control of 
every bit of ecstasy that shot through me. I prolonged it until he told me 
that he could control himself no longer. Then, with a twisting jerk, I sat 
hard on him, leaned forward so that my breasts touched his chest and we both 
experienced orgasm simultaneously. We lay there for some time and finally 
went to sleep entwined in each other's arms. 

The next thing I knew, I was awakened by the clattering rudeness of an 
uncaring alarm clock summoning me to face the day and school. I showered and 
dressed in a dream and when I first saw Daddy in the kitchen, I threw my 
arms around him and kissed him passionately. 

"Oh, Daddy, Daddy," I cried, "I love you so much. You're so wonderful." 

We ate a normal breakfast, spoke of the usual things and didn't discuss the 
happenings of the previous night - not through guilt or shame, but because 
words were no longer necessary. We knew that the relationship was forever 
changed and I think we both were a little bit thrilled at the emotional and 
physical pleasure I had known and was yet to know, but I was also frightened 
of the responsibility I would have to face. I had become Daddy's wife 
instead of his daughter. I had grown up in the surging instant of an orgasm, 
and at thirteen years of age, I had to face the fact that I was a woman! 

 Chapter Seven 

Almost everything I have read about the "horrors of incest" has gone into 
length about how ruinous such practices can be to the participants. But what 
they have failed to mention is the cause and effects, and the pattern that 
applies to incest as well as to every other aspect of human behavior. 

Guilt, of course, is responsible for many traumas whether that guilt is 
centered on incestuous behavior or not. Also, hatred is a strong part of 
sexual behavior, which is responsible for later behavioral defects or mental 
disorders. 

What the authorities on incest don't seem to realize is that acts of this 
sort can be centered on a kind of love and genuine affection that is found 
nowhere else. Surely, if Daddy had raped me against my will, or if my mother 
had instilled in me a fear of sex or an aversion for it, things might have 
been different. 

Granted, if Mom had lived, incest would never have taken place. But she 
didn't live; I don't have my brain filled with moral doubts about right and 
wrong. I loved my father as a father and as a man - a member of the opposite 
sex. What we did was pleasurable and to us, at any rate, natural. 

Certainly he can be said to have taken the greater share of responsibility 
because he was the parent and I the child. But once we became lovers, we 
shared the responsibility equally. He taught me about sex just as he taught 
me about my school studies and life in general. I was no different - I 
suppose, in some ways, I taught him, too. 

Throughout it all, I felt that what we were doing was right. I loved him 
with all my heart - and with all my body, too. I wanted to give to him, 
share with him and be dependent upon him, as a woman is dependent upon her 
man. If my school work and social life were supposed to have suffered 
because of the relationship, it didn't. I felt a new thrill of belonging to 
life and to myself and to Daddy and it inspired me to greater feats of 
scholarship. 

Rarely, if ever, did I get a mark lower than a B and rarely did I balk at 
school assignments. My social life was exactly what I wanted it to be. 
Granted, I didn't date, not because I wasn't asked or that Daddy forbade me 
to, but because I didn't want to go out with immature boys and listen to 
their silly talk about cars and football. 

Except for the fact that Daddy was much older than I, and, of course, that 
we could never be married, it was just as if we lived as man and wife all 
those years. 

I had my girlfriends and my hobbies which did not include Daddy. But the 
main part of my life was centered around him. I knew, too, what society 
would say if it ever found out about us, so I knew we had to perpetuate a 
lie. I had to act like a daughter when other people were around, but when we 
were alone in the apartment I was a woman and he was a man and, most 
important, we were in love. 

Gradually, my duties around the apartment began to change to those of a wife 
rather than those of a child. I began to do all the cooking and the cleaning 
up and housework. He finished his higher education and stayed away longer 
because of his career efforts. I will say that certain aspects of our 
association might be considered wrong, but I went along with them because I 
felt like a wife and knew that I no longer wanted to be treated like a 
child. For one thing, I began to smoke even though Daddy didn't want me to. 
I also made it a point to share a martini with him before dinner. 

Certainly, he still disciplined me, but no longer as a father disciplines a 
daughter - rather as a man controls his wife. And, we did have our 
arguments, too, but they were never intense enough to shatter the love we 
shared in any way. If anything, the love became deeper over time and I'd be 
a fool to suggest that sex didn't form a very great deal of it. 

Some people say that a woman has to know a hundred male bodies before she 
can make up her mind as to whose sexual skill she likes best, but I say this 
is hogwash. Ever since that first time, I knew in my heart that no other man 
would ever be able to thrill me like Daddy had done. And I think he knew too 
that the love was as binding for him, physically and emotionally as it was 
for me. 

After his first doubts crumbled, our sex life was full, and rich, and 
varied. It was never degenerate or sick, or depraved in any way. Once, I did 
have my doubts about the satisfaction of only one man, but after one "fling" 
I came back and I even told Daddy about it. He was kind and understanding 
about it and it never happened again. 

But I was still immature and had little girl dreams about life and love and 
all the rose-colored romance I thought should go with it. To me, Daddy was a 
knight in shining armor. He was still very handsome with a touch of grey in 
his hair and still beautiful to look at when he stripped out of his shirt. 
He was more potent than he thought he was, and often after he realized he 
was able to get more than one erection per evening, we would have love play 
as often as three times a night. 

His responsibility was to earn the money to support the apartment. Mine was 
to clean and maintain the apartment and cook his meals. I'm sure both of us 
felt totally emotionally responsible to one another. 

And yes, there was one thing more. This was something that became 
increasingly hard to explain in terms of the conflict generated within me. I 
had to be very careful I didn't become pregnant. 

He supplied me with money and told me how to take my contraceptive pills, 
which, of course, I did. But as the years rolled on and I became even closer 
to Daddy because of the warmth and tenderness we shared, I knew I wanted to 
prove that love by giving him a child. Somehow, I wanted to prove that I was 
worthy of him and as a woman, I could only do that in the ultimately female 
way - by delivering a child. 

But long before that, I began to experience other doubts. When Daddy first 
mentioned pregnancy to me, I went through a period of fear and my own 
private world of strange guilt's. I didn't like taking the pills on a 
regular schedule, and I began to wonder within myself if a girl could get 
the same kind of thrill if she made love to a woman, as she could loving a 
man. 

I had been introduced to sex too early and I had this nagging feeling that 
perhaps there were other thrills beyond those shared by Daddy and me. But I 
knew that the guys around school were not for me - they were just kids, with 
no sophistication or understanding. Sally, the girl who had let me watch her 
masturbate with the sawed-off broom handle, gradually became my best friend. 
I never told her about Daddy and me, but I wanted to, I really did. I wanted 
to tell her how thrilling it was to be in love and how wonderful it was when 
a man and a girl made love to each other. But I couldn't tell her these 
things. Instead, I had to keep silent while she told me of her doubts and 
shyness. 

Perhaps it was compassion, perhaps it was a genuine eagerness to experiment 
with the world of Lesbos, but, in all the time that Daddy and I shared our 
love, my affair with Sally was my only "adultery." And it, not the incest, 
was the only thing that caused me any great guilt. It wasn't guilt over the 
lesbianism of it, but of cheating on the man I truly loved - my father. 

The strange part of it is that homosexuality with Sally made my love for 
Daddy even stronger and reunited us so that our very souls were fused and 
could never separate. 

But to explain, I must go back to the beginning which wasn't a beginning at 
all, for I'm sure Sally had thought of it long before I. As I said, we were 
friends, just like regular wives have girl friends and after school closed 
that summer we became even closer ... 

 Chapter Eight 

With Daddy attending summer classes and me on vacation that summer, I found 
little to do other than swim in the pool at the apartment or read. I really 
didn't enjoy going out with most of the kids from the school because, living 
so close to Daddy, I suppose I had matured far beyond my years. 

Not only had our physical association turned me into a woman, but our love 
in an emotional sense had matured me. Where most girls my age were still 
screaming at pop singers or giggling about cute boys at school, I, found it 
far more rewarding to discuss politics or something of a similar nature with 
Daddy. 

I did get a few invitations to go to the beach or riding with some groups, 
but after trying these things a couple of times, I simply gave up. I kept to 
myself on the assumption that it would be better to be lonely while Daddy 
was away than to be subjected to immature companions whom I didn't really 
like or understand anymore. It was as if, in some strange way, my first 
total act of sexual congress with Daddy had stolen my adolescence from me. 

Before, I had been a child, now I was a woman and with each added touch of 
his hand or whisper of his voice, I became more of a woman and thus further 
from understanding companions my own age. 

But I didn't lead a completely isolated life for, over the past several 
months I had formed a tight bond of friendship with Sally. Who really began 
the friendship, I don't know. Maybe she sensed that I was not one of the 
many people she had known who would criticize her. Perhaps she wanted to be 
criticized - maybe that was why she had masturbated in front of me - but 
when I refused to comment or evaluate, that must have made our association 
even stronger. 

Remember, I had been raised - even when my mom was alive - to think for 
myself and to analyze on the basis of hard facts. There had never been any 
arbitrary dictum of right or wrong in my home and this was particularly true 
about sex. 

I really saw nothing wrong in the fact that Sally masturbated with various 
things like the sawed-off broom handle, hot dogs, and such. I didn't even 
think it was wrong that she enjoyed the fact that I watched her do it. 

I suppose she was a very strange and lonely girl in her way. Almost every 
time we were at her house, in her room, she would start the practice 
.without seeming to have any motivation. We would be listening to a new 
record and suddenly, she would start playing with herself by sitting on the 
bed, spreading her legs, and extending the fingers of one hand up one of her 
panty legs. 

Sometimes, this would content her, sometimes it wouldn't. If she knew her 
mother was out and had a very strong urge, she would peel her panties down 
her legs and put the broom handle or something else in her. All the time she 
would talk to me, telling me how good it felt, but never saying or doing 
more than that! 

I, of course, was fascinated by the whole process, because I had never seen 
another woman before, except for that one time I spotted Mrs. Bradley with 
Daddy's penis in her mouth. In a strange way, I was very excited whenever I 
watched Sally play with herself, yet I wasn't really desirous. The emotions 
I felt were more intense curiosity than anything else. 

I had seen Sally perform her ritual several times and had listened to her 
talk about wanting boys and about her own shyness several more times before 
doubts really began to nibble in my mind. 

By the time that summer rolled around and I celebrated my fourteenth 
birthday, Daddy and I were well settled down to the life of a married 
couple. Our sexual life was thrilling and rewarding and if there was ever a 
time when I didn't experience orgasm with him, I certainly don't remember 
it. But the newness had worn off. The thrill of the first act and of 
forbidden fruit was no longer there. I, like hundreds of other women before 
me, began to wonder if the sexual experience could be as richly rewarding 
and explosively satisfying with another man, as it was with the one who had 
first introduced me to the joys of Eros. 

Had I been older or freer in my habits, I'm sure I would have followed the 
classic path of meeting some man at the office or at a bar for a one-night 
stand, and discover that way that love is vital to any satisfaction of the 
heart. But I had no office and I couldn't get into bars. 

My only real friend, and my only close companion of my own age was Sally. We 
had been swimming one afternoon and Sally had lain in the sun for some time 
trying to get a tan. She was wearing a cute little two-piece suit that 
really made her body look wonderful, even though she was still sort of 
skinny and not completely developed yet. 

After a long time in the sun, I asked her if she wanted to go inside with me 
and have a drink of iced tea. She agreed and we both went up to the 
apartment. We were in the kitchen and just because I felt wild, I asked her 
if she had ever tasted a martini. 

"Gosh, no," she said. "Have you?" 

"Sure," I told her. "Lots of times." 

With that, Sally seemed even more impressed than usual and said she would 
like to have a martini with me. As she watched me mixing the drinks, she 
began to play with herself through the bottom of her swimming suit. She 
always did that when she was particularly excited about something - whether 
that something was sexual or not. 

I finished making the drinks, poured them into glasses and handed her one. I 
suggested we go into the living room to drink them, but remembering our 
swimsuits were still wet, I asked Sally if she wanted to change before we 
had the drinks. She agreed and followed me into the room that was supposed 
to be mine, although I hadn't slept there in all the time we had lived in 
the apartment. 

Sally peeled out of her damp swimsuit bottoms, revealing slender legs and a 
thin, muscular hip line dotted with only the slightest punctuation of pubic 
hair. Then, still as casual as always, she untied her flimsy bathing suit 
bra and let it fall to the carpet. I don't know what came over me - I had 
seen her tiny erect breasts several times before - but they seemed 
remarkably beautiful and firm, almost as if they were asking to be touched. 

Forcing the thought from my mind, I slipped into a sunsuit and halter. Sally 
stood naked for a moment playing with her private parts almost as if she was 
scratching, although I knew she wasn't. She asked if she could wear a 
bathrobe of mine instead of getting dressed. I agreed and when she had 
slipped her arms into it and looped the tie cord around her slender waist, 
we again went to the living room to sip our forbid-, den drinks. 

Sally sat on the couch and I in a chair, and again she began to play with 
herself. She would take a sip of the martini, wince from the taste sensation 
of it and the heat of the alcohol sliding down her throat and into her body 
and then clutch at her genitals. Finally, she just lay back against the 
couch, raised her left leg with the glass in her left hand and the fingers 
of her right violently stroking her clitoris. 

"Don't you ever do this?" she asked as casually as if she were inquiring 
about the time of day. 

I shook my head, stifling an urge to mention that I didn't have to. I wanted 
to say that I already knew the total pleasures of sex with a grown man and 
that I didn't have to play at being a little girl anymore. I wanted to tell 
her a lot of things about what I had experienced in my father's arms, but I 
knew I must keep our secret. 

"Oh, it's really the greatest," she said, and then with a jerk that almost 
spilled her drink, she tore her fingers from her vagina, placed the glass on 
the table and almost screamed, "I know what!" 

"What?" I asked. 

"Let me do it to you," she said, excitedly. "You'll really like it. Ill get 
a hot dog or something. You got a hot dog in the refrigerator?" 

"Sally ... I ... " 

"Don't be an old square," she said ... "It's really great!" 

She leaped off the couch and, like some sort of legendary fury, dashed into 
the kitchen. I heard the refrigerator door open, scurrying sounds for a 
moment, and then the sound of it closing again. Sally returned to the room 
with an eight-inch-long wiener in each hand and stood waving them 
triumphantly in front of my face. 

"It'll be great," she announced. "I can do you and then you can do me!" 

"But, Sally," I managed, "I don't really want to. It's not like-" 

"Like what?" 

"Nothing." 

She looked at me for a long time before the expression of doubt on her face 
turned slowly to one of complete knowing accompanied by a strange, totally 
illuminating smile. "I know," she said, "you don't have to tell me. I know! 
You've let some boy do it to you! You've gone and gotten yourself fucked, 
haven't you?" 

"I-" 

"Oh, what's it like? I mean when a boy's got it all hard and hot and puts it 
in there? What's it like?" 

I was trapped and I knew it. My only recourse was to let her think that I 
had had some experience with a boy my own age instead of with my own father. 
"It's ... " I began, "sort of ... well, it's good. It feels good." 

"Oh, come on now. Please. We're friends, aren't we? You can tell me about 
it. It's real good, isn't it? Tell me, please!" 

In my own young and fumbling way, I tried to tell Sally what real sex was 
like. As I explained about the prick, she sat again on the couch, her eyes 
getting wider and wider as she took another sip of her martini and slowly 
leaned back, slipping the whole length of the wiener all the way up her 
moist vaginal tract. 

Somehow, I experienced a strange perverse sensation at that moment and took 
an intense vicarious pleasure in going into great detail. First, I told her 
what a rod looked like when erect, but when I saw how excited she got, I 
went back to elaborate each detail as I remembered it. I told her how the 
tip felt, just before the length completely plunged into me, and how great 
that first surge of filling pressure always felt. 

Then I went on to other details, telling her how the man often put his hands 
under the girl's buttocks so that he could pull her tighter to him as he 
thrust harder and faster against the delicate seething walls of her sexual 
pleasure. 

Each time I mentioned something new to Sally, she would try to do it to 
herself. She was lying on the couch now with both legs up and her hand 
holding the wiener, moving it fast as she pushed her masturbation tool back 
and forth. 

I tried to remain dispassionate over the spectacle, but I couldn't. 
Something about her openness in showing how intense her pleasure was, 
brought a surge of excitement to me. When I saw the robe fall away from her 
beautiful young breasts, I seemed to cross the room in a sort of hypnotic 
haze. I was still talking to her and saying things like, "And then he starts 
kissing me all over and maybe even running his hands up over my boobies like 
... " 

My hands were no longer a part of me. They were acting on their own. I was 
beside the couch, as I looked into Sally's eyes for a moment and then, still 
holding her gaze locked to mine, placed both hands gently over her breasts. 
I moved my fingers just the slightest bit to caress the nipples as mine had 
been caressed so often. In that instant, she twitched and spasmed into an 
orgasm that sent an involuntary gasp from her throat, making her body quiver 
like a leaf in the wind. 

"Oh," she gasped after a moment. "Oh, that was the greatest. When you 
touched me there ... oh ..." 

She fell back on the couch gasping for breath with a happy, satiated 
expression on her face, the like of which I had never seen before. 

Embarrassed by what I had done, I returned to where I had been sitting and 
lit a cigarette before taking a sip of my drink. We remained silent for 
several minutes until Sally started to sit up on the couch. At first I 
thought she was going to start masturbating again because her hand was 
working slowly around her private parts. But when she spoke, I realized what 
her problem was. 

"Oh, my!" she said. 

"What?" 

"The weenie's stuck in there. I can't get it out!" 

"You're kidding!" 

"You think I'd kid about something like that? I got a foot of meat in there 
and I can't get it out. Oh, what am I going to do?" 

It all seemed so humorous to me. Here was Sally, the girl who was always 
masturbating whenever she could and now she had a permanent tool in there to 
perform the job. I thought it was ideal for her and told her as much. 

"That's fine for you to say, but what if my mom catches me? She'll kill me. 
Literally kill me." 

I rose from my chair, crossed to where she was on the couch and knelt beside 
her. "Here," I said, "let me see." 

Slowly, she raised her legs and bent the knees so that she was in a similar 
position to the one in which she had experienced such pleasure only moments 
before. 

I had a complete view of her partially open vaginal lips and the soft tuft 
of silken hair that grew from the top of them. 

But something happened in that moment that was more than merely wanting to 
help Sally out of a rather embarrassing situation. As I looked at her sexual 
parts, the very area of her body which had allowed her to experience such 
intense pleasure through her own manipulations, I wondered what it would be 
like to touch another woman instead of a man; what it would be like to 
fondle and caress organs just like mine; what it would be like to touch, 
knowing before I did so, the exact amount of pleasure each particular nerve 
end could convey, what it would be like if Sally, who knew my body as well 
as her own, were to go down on me, as Daddy had. 

The visions of all these possible acts flashed and spattered through my mind 
like shadows from some macabre kaleidoscope and I actually had to shake my 
head to be able to concentrate on what I was about to do. 

Actually, it was Sally herself who helped me the most, because she reached 
her hands around, gently placed her own fingers on either side of her 
vaginal slit, and pulled the lips as far apart as she could. 

"Can you see it?" she asked. 

I couldn't. Apparently in her final surge of fantastic pleasure, she had 
really thrust the wiener as far into her as she could. 

I reached toward the lips of her vagina with trembling fingers and drew back 
once before taking a deep breath and assuming a more professional air. Then, 
I inserted one tentative finger until I was able to touch the end of the 
wiener. It wasn't that far inside and, by taking the top of it in two 
fingers of my left hand and the bottom in two fingers of my right, I was 
able to slowly draw it forth. But, at that point, the strange, budding fires 
of curiosity that had allowed their flames to lick at me before, seemed to 
consume me in a conflagration of perverse desire. 

When the wiener was out just about an inch, I took it in my right hand and, 
exerting an upward pressure on it, rubbed it slowly yet definitely against 
Sally's clitoris as I removed it inch by delectable inch. At the same time, 
I touched her clitoris with the forefinger and thumb of my left hand and 
felt a shivering joy as she gasped her pleasure aloud. Maybe that one gasp 
was all I needed for I, too, was now a part of the performance. I could have 
taken the wiener all the way out, but I didn't. I continued using it as an 
artificial penis, pushing it with just the perfect rhythm in and out and 
never relaxing the pressure on Sally's clit. 

She lay in such a way so that she could watch her own genitals being 
stimulated as her own hands fondled the nipples of her pert breasts. We were 
both fascinated by what we were doing although Sally was obviously 
experiencing more pleasure than I. When she spasmed into her second orgasm, 
she tried to pull the whole length of the wiener into her again, but I 
wouldn't let her. That second explosion of her pleasure shook me back to 
sanity and, pulling the wiener out of her entirely, I left her on the couch 
as I walked with it to the kitchen. 

Suddenly embarrassed, I tossed the wiener into the garbage disposal, and 
returned to where Sally still lay gasping on the couch. It was late and 
Daddy was due home within the hour, so I told Sally that she had better get 
dressed and finish her martini before he arrived. 

She just smiled at me, "I don't want the drink," she said, "I can hardly 
move as it is. Oh, boy, that felt great. You should have let me do you when 
I asked you." 

Finally, with great effort, she got up and went to my room where she had 
left her swimsuit. I took our glasses to the kitchen where I washed and 
dried them and had just returned to the living room and lit another 
cigarette when Daddy came into the apartment. 

He started toward me to throw his arms around me in our usual passionate 
afternoon embrace, just as Sally came out, dressed now, wearying her damp 
bathing suit in one hand. 

Daddy seemed slightly flustered for just a second, but no more. Both he and 
Sally were polite to each other, but she announced that she'd better be 
going home because her mother might worry. With that, she crossed the room 
with a little wave and ambled out of the front door. 

I was so stimulated and excited by all that had happened that afternoon, and 
doubly wanned by the one martini I had consumed, that the very moment I 
heard the door slam and click shut, I leaped into Daddy's arms and began to 
smother him with kisses. 

"Hey, kitten," he said, but I wouldn't let him continue. I kissed him hard, 
letting my tongue play with his as one hand rubbed the smooth hard curve of 
his buttocks and the other slid down the form-fitting front of his body and 
found the growing bulge between his waiting legs. 

"Oh, Daddy," I murmured into his ear. "Please, Daddy, let's fuck right now, 
before dinner. Let's not wait until tonight, Daddy." 

With gentle, strong arms, Daddy reached over so that he held me across the 
shoulders and under the knees. He lifted my feet from the carpet and with 
slow sensuous steps, carried me first to the front door to see if it was 
locked, and then down the hall to the master bedroom where we had shared so 
much pleasure. 

Our experience that afternoon was not bizarre or perverted. It was unique 
for I shall never forget the sensation as long as I live. I was so excited 
by what had happened with Sally that it seemed I couldn't stop coming. 

I came the first time before Daddy was even inside me, and after that, it 
seemed I was on a terrible, wonderful wheel that whirred around making 
orgasm each time it passed a single spot. 

I came four times before Daddy even came once. And, by that last shuddering 
time when we both writhed together in intense mutual pleasure, I was so 
drained and exhausted that for a moment I thought I might never want sex 
again. 

 Chapter Nine 

After that afternoon affair of ours, Daddy and I took a swim together in the 
apartment pool, then came back and shared a martini before having dinner. 
Our conversation was casual and happy, but I knew that there was something 
definitely wrong with me. For some time, I couldn't put my finger on it, but 
then just before sitting down to dinner - possibly because of the second 
martini - I realized what it was. 

Even though I had thought my multiple orgasms of just scant hours before had 
completely sated me, I was still wildly desirous of sexual gratification. 
What I still didn't realize was the fact that, subconsciously at any rate, 
Sally was still on my mind and I was in a state of desire for a particular 
gratification. What that particular form of gratification was, I still 
didn't know and wasn't to realize until long after I had finished cleaning 
the evening's dinner dishes and had joined Daddy in the living room to read. 

I only began to understand what was bothering me as we both stepped into our 
mutual shower. It was as if, through some strange mental process, I had 
reverted to my childhood again for I began staring at his penis as I had 
years ago and I felt a wild surge of desire to take it in my mouth right 
then and there in the shower. 

Impetuously I knelt in the shower allowing the spray of water to spatter on 
my hair and, with a violence I didn't know I possessed, took Daddy's organ 
in my mouth and sucked it into a state of throbbing erection. But even then 
I couldn't stop! I seemed to be all mouth, with one goal only in life - to 
lick and suck and lave - and that's what I did with a wild, passionate 
frenzy, a frenzy so intense that Daddy was almost instantly forced to pull 
away from me to ejaculate. 

It had all happened with such blinding speed and such unexplainable lust on 
my part, that I was slightly shocked. What I hadn't realized at the time was 
that my motive was to make Daddy incapable of any further sexual contact 
that night in order to try an experiment to test my love for him. 

Really, I wanted to test my desire for the male sex against that of the 
female. But at the time, I could not have told even myself that. All I knew 
was that I had an uncontrollable urge to perform fellatio on my father - to 
bring him to completion right there in the shower. 

When it was over, neither of us spoke, but we did exchange surprised looks. 
He helped me dry my hair and we brushed our teeth. Then, as usual, we both 
went to the master bedroom which we shared and to the big bed in the center 
' of the room. 

Daddy lay on his side quietly smoking a cigarette and I also lay staring at 
the ceiling fitfully smoking one of my own. Finally, he turned to me, rested 
his head on one arm and asked, "What's the matter, kitten?" 

"Nothing," I said with just an edge of spite in my voice. "Nothing at all." 

"Come on now, sweetheart," he urged. "I can feel it." 

"Oh, leave me alone!" I pouted. 

Again there was silence for a moment before Daddy spoke. Sometimes his 
understanding was uncanny, only this time he didn't know what his "sensing 
the problem" was exactly what I had probably had in mind from the first. 

"You're frustrated, aren't you?" he asked. 

I shook my head, but apparently he sensed the lie and, with gentle fingers 
reached out and began to slide his hand up and down my stomach, around my 
tense navel and along the edges of my sexual lips. 

"Don't worry, kitten," he assured me as his skilled fingers hit fibre after 
fibre of pure sensation. "There's still pleasure for you." 

Of course, I knew what he was talking about - or at least I sensed what was 
to come for I had actually set about to make it possible. What I had done 
with malice aforethought was to try to completely emasculate the man I loved 
in order to force him into a woman's sexual role. 

I knew he could no longer use his penis after our exhausting affair of the 
afternoon and after my oral ministrations in the shower. Now, he would have 
to caress my body as a woman would caress it - with only the use of his 
fingers and mouth. 

Consumed by this one thought, which I couldn't even recognize at the time, I 
became wild with a burning desire to test him against - what? I still didn't 
know at the time. 

Panting and writhing as I lay on my back, I murmured again and again that I 
wanted and needed him. But I refused to reach out to touch his organ either 
with my hand or my lips. Instead, I lay there waiting for him to make the 
move that I knew had to come sooner or later. 

Slowly, gently, his fingers moved down my belly, past my navel, along the 
taut muscles of my lower abdomen and twitching thighs until they found the 
outer lips of my steaming sexual parts. They lingered there for an agonizing 
eternity that couldn't in point of fact have lasted longer than a second or 
two before they slipped into the wet folds of my welcoming love opening. 

Then, slowly and gently at first, but with added speed and pressure - with a 
quick fluttering, like some butterfly of pure passion - they began to stroke 
and titillate my erect clit, sending electric shocks of ecstasy sliding 
through me like the silent waves of heat lightning on a summer evening. 

Even though the sensation was almost total and almost complete, it was not 
enough! I lay there mentally writhing in my passion, yet not visibly 
responding. I wanted him to thrill me as he never had before, while I did 
nothing but enjoy. 

He played with me like that for some time before, still with his fingers in 
me, he gently slid his long, muscular body down the length of mine and began 
caressing me with the soft brush of his lips. First against my hips, then 
down the insides of my thighs almost to my knees and finally up again, this 
time letting his tongue dart little lines of desire along the burning 
surface of my eager flesh. 

When his tongue finally reached the cauldron of my desire, I was in a state 
of contradiction. Part of me wanted to wrap my lower limbs around him and 
pull his head closer to me - to embrace him as I had never embraced him 
before - but the other half of me held me rigid and outwardly unresponsive. 

I lay flat on my back without even bending my knees as he gently massaged my 
throbbing sexual parts with his lips and tongue - as he found my clitoris - 
and with a gentle passion I hardly knew existed, began to massage it with 
his skilled mouth. Still I could not let myself respond. I was analyzing 
every move as if what we were doing was not love but some sort of bizarre 
scientific experiment. I wanted to see to what extent he could really thrill 
me! I held myself back to savor every tingle, every surge, of pure pleasure 
that shot through me like velvet lightning-bolt after velvet lightning-bolt. 

I let him caress me like that for almost half an hour, letting his fingers 
stroke my erect nipples as his tongue laved my vagina and fuck-button. 
Suddenly I could hold out no longer. 

It seemed as if my mind and body gave way at the same time and, with a spasm 
that was both emotional and physical, I let my whole body follow the course 
it had wanted so desperately to follow long before. My hips lifted as if of 
their own accord and my knees bent with them. I gripped Daddy around the 
neck and threw my arms down over his head and I came ... and came ... and 
came ... until I was still coming with no more pleasure left to experience 
within me! 

I lay there thrilling with remembrance of pleasure for long moments after 
all feeling had washed out of me and shattered in a silent fury of golden 
oil - hot and scented - that covered my entire universe and had drowned me 
in it. 

It had been wonderful - almost as wonderful as having actual intercourse, 
and I was both thrilled and exhausted by it. 

Now, as I turned in the bed, I threw my arm around Daddy's muscular chest 
and, with my face buried in his chest, fell into a cozy safe sleep. 

But with the morning, my doubts had not left me. All was wonderful at 
breakfast and I think I loved Daddy more than I ever had, but I still had a 
nagging desire to test myself. He was the only person who had really known 
me sexually and I had a perverse desire to see if others could thrill me as 
much. 

I didn't know what I was doing. I only knew that, after he left for his 
first class that morning, I immediately went to the phone and dialed Sally's 
number. When she answered, I managed to stammer something incoherent before 
controlling myself sufficiently to ask her if she wanted to come over for a 
swim. 

She told me that she had a few things to do before she could leave but that 
she would be over in about an hour. I hung up the phone and returned to my 
chores of clearing and washing the breakfast dishes, but I was nervous and 
ill at ease. 

When I opened the refrigerator to put the butter back, I noticed the package 
of wieners that had been opened the day before. I stared at them for some 
t"me, before something made me reach out and take one from the package. 

Standing in the middle of the kitchen, running my fingers over the length of 
it for several moments - as if in a trance - I untied the belt of my 
housecoat and squatted just enough to be able to press the end of the wiener 
into my vagina. 

I felt no thrill whatsoever - only the cold sensation of the refrigerated 
meat against my inner flesh. Yet, something compelled me to manipulate my 
clitoris with the fingers of the other hand until I was sufficiently 
lubricated to press the wiener up inside me. 

I can't say it felt good; but it wasn't bad, either - it was strange. I 
could feel it in me as a nice pressure that was cold, but it was not as 
thrilling as a prick and certainly not as exciting as warm human lips 
caressing my tenderest parts. 

In disgust, I pulled the hot dog out of my hole and placed it back in the 
package from which it had come. Then I finished my chores and waited for 
Sally to arrive. 

I knew why I hadn't put on a bathing suit and why I had remained in my 
housecoat but I still couldn't face the fact. I was still trying to talk 
myself into the fact that we were just two girls going for a swim in the 
pool. 

But in the inner, secret part of my mind, I knew the "swim" would have 
nothing to do with water and the "pool" would be one of frothing desire. 

After I had straightened the kitchen, I had enough foresight to go into my 
room and pull the covers of my bed down so that it looked as if it had been 
slept in. However, I did not make the slightest effort to change my clothes. 
I only walked to the mirror and opened my housecoat wide so that I could 
inspect my adolescent body. 

Looking at myself, I went through a moment's daydream. I was curved like a 
woman, and built like a woman. My hips and breasts were formed and my pubic 
hair was grown. I don't know what made me do it, but I walked to the mirror 
and gently placed my own lips against the reflection. Contact with the cold 
mirror brought me back to total awareness again. It was as if I had been in 
a trance. Quickly, I retied my housecoat and returned to the living room 
where I sat down on the couch, lit a cigarette, and waited for Sally to get 
there. 

 Chapter Ten 

Almost half a pack of cigarettes later, there was a knock on the door and 
Sally walked in, I had never really been too clothes conscious before, but I 
delighted by her outfit. It was a soft, light summer dress that seemed to be 
held up by nothing more tangible than a wish - a wish that seemed capable of 
changing at the slightest whim. 

Her hair was combed loosely over her shoulders, and despite her glasses and 
the bad complexion that seemed to keep her from getting the dates she 
wanted, I thought just then as she walked into the apartment that she was a 
really beautiful girl. For the first conscious moment, I became aware of 
exactly why I had acted the way I had the previous afternoon and evening. It 
hit me with the full force of a lightning bolt, and shocked me into a silent 
shy-ness! 

As Sally walked into the apartment and spun slightly to close the door 
behind her, her skirt flared out around her knees. I was treated to a full 
view of her body as it made a half arc before me. My eyes drank in the thin, 
taut hips, the slender legs and the small delectable mounds of her budding 
breasts. 

She said something to me, but I was not aware of words - only the movement 
of her red lips and the flash of white teeth behind them. It was a conscious 
thought now, and I was both shocked and embarrassed by it - I knew I wanted 
those very lips to touch my cunt! I was finally aware of the fact that I 
wanted to compare the caress of a woman, one who had intimate knowledge of 
the female body, with the caress of the man I loved so dearly, my father. 

Certainly I felt guilty about my thoughts, particularly since they were now 
in the open, but it was not what I would call a normal guilt. I had no 
feeling one way or another about a lesbian caress in itself, but I didn't 
want to cheat on Daddy. But, as with any woman who contemplates such things, 
the carnal desire, the curiosity and the longing for experiment soon 
overrode any feelings of loyalty I might have held at that moment. 

Besides, I rationalized, Sally was here in the apartment at the moment and 
Daddy was away at school and now was now! 

Sally stopped before the couch and stared at me in a strange way. "I said, 
'How are you?' " 

"Oh," I managed, taking a deep drag of the cigarette that trembled in my 
hand. "Fine, fine. How are you today?" 

"Great," she said. "But whatever are you staring at?" 

I had been looking at her pubic area wondering if I could bring myself to 
touch her there again and if I could ... bring my lips to touch her there 
... if she touched mine with hers. 

"Nothing," I told her. "Nothing ... I was just admiring your dress. Is it 
new?" 

"This?" she said. "You've seen this a hundred times. Whatever is the matter 
with you?" 

I couldn't answer. Instead, I plunged my cigarette into the ashtray before 
me, and ground it to shreds. But almost instantly I seemed compelled to 
reach for the pack lying on the table and shake another free, and as I did 
so, I had to bend my body forward. The top of my housecoat fell open, but I 
made no move to replace the garment as I leaned back again and lit the new 
cigarette. 

I tried to avoid Sally's glaring eyes, but I knew they were focused on me. I 
also knew that she must be experiencing strange thoughts of her own for she 
reached for the last-cigarette in the pack and lit it, despite the fact that 
she didn't smoke. 

She pulled a deep cloud of white smoke into her mouth, puffing it high in 
the air before turning back to face me. When she spoke, there was a strange 
huskiness in her voice. 

"You sure have nice-looking boobies," she said to me. 

"Do I?" I tried to sound shy and coy, but it didn't work and I knew it 
hadn't. Then something wild and strange came over me - looking Sally full in 
the eyes, I asked, "Would you like to touch them?" 

"Gosh," she replied. "You mean it? Sure!" 

Without the slightest hesitation, she took the two steps to where I sat on 
the couch, dropped her freshly lit cigarette into the ashtray and curled 
down beside me. Instantly, her hand reached out and slipped under the loose 
folds of my housecoat so that her cool fingers were gently stroking my left 
breast and its nipple. 

"Oh, gosh!" she exclaimed. "They're so big and round!" 

She continued her stroking as I leaned back and let the waves of pleasure 
roll through me. Looking down at her hand, I felt an added sensation as I 
watched her fingers manipulating my erect nipple. Then, my own hand moved 
slightly so that it touched her knees. 

Bolder now that she was sending ripples of pleasure through me, and because 
she had made no movement to withdraw when my fingers touched the silken 
flesh of her legs, my voice was calm when I said, "I've still got some 
wieners." 

"Really?" she gasped, but her hand never stopped moving. "Do you suppose ... 
I mean ... well, will you let me touch you here and all? Could I ... do you? 
Just once. Please?" 

"You really want to, Sally?" 

"Oh, yes," she gasped. 

"Well, if you really want to and promise not to tell anyone." 

"Don't be silly. I'll get the wieners myself." 

"Okay," I said, watching as Sally jumped from the couch and dashed into the 
kitchen. In the instant it took her to rip the refrigerator door open and 
grab a hot dog, I had loosened my housecoat even more so that the full 
length of my body was exposed. Slipping one finger along the slightly opened 
mouth of my vagina to make sure I was as lubricated as I supposed, I was 
hardly surprised to find that I was wetter than I had ever been and more 
excited emotionally than I had ever thought possible. 

Sally rushed back with the single wiener in her hand and again sat down 
beside me on the couch, rubbing the wiener between her hands to warm it 
slightly. 

"You've got to lie back and open your legs," she said with authority. "I 
mean, so I can get it in right." 

I did what she asked, reclining full length on the sofa so that one leg 
dangled over the edge and the other rested along the back of the couch. Sail 
sat between my spread legs and touched me with one finger. I winced with the 
sheer ecstasy of it. 

"Goddamn," she said. "You really get wet, don't you? I never get that wet. 
Isn't this just wild?" 

I didn't reply. I looked at the ceiling and savored the feeling of her first 
soft probes with the wiener as her fingers, so used to the folds and 
contours of her own body, began to explore me. Then, as she slowly slipped 
the firm wiener into my gaping opening, I must have gasped in the pure 
physical pleasure of it. There were no emotional involvements at all. This 
was what I had wished for - sheer, uncomplicated physical ecstasy. I could 
enjoy it as calmly as she had - could carry on a conversation - could even 
finish the last two puffs of my cigarette and put it into the ashtray. 

She continued moving the wiener in and out of my throbbing hole as we talked 
to one another. 

"How is it?" she kept asking. "How does it feel in your cunt like that? Is 
it good?" 

"It's good," I told her, '-but press a little higher, like that. Harder and 
not so fast. That's right. Just like that." 

"Oh, gosh. Isn't this exciting?" 

"You know what I did yesterday, Sally, after you were finished and I got it 
out of you?" 

"No, what?" She didn't interrupt her movements for even a split second. 

"I went in and ate the raw hot dog." 

"You what?" 

"You heard me. What's wrong with that?" 

"Well, nothing I guess ... only ... " 

"You seem shocked, Sally. What is it, eating the raw wiener?" 

Still her hands moved back and forth - one holding the hot dog and the other 
gently flickering my clit back and forth, "A little of both, I guess. I mean 
..." 

"Didn't you know a lot of people do that?" 

"Do what? Eat raw wieners?" 

"No, dummy. Kiss each other there. You're not that square that you haven't 
heard of cock-suckers, are you?" 

"Oh, sure, but that's different. I mean boys are different. I wouldn't mind 
that. Goddamn no, I think I'd kind of like it!" 

"Well, they do it back, you know." 

"Do it back? You mean they kiss girls down there?" For the first time since 
she had begun to move the hot dog inside me, she stopped. 

"Sure," I said. "It feels real groovy." 

"How do you know?" 

"You really want to know?" I asked. 

"Sure." 

"And you promise not to tell?" 

"Cross my cunt." 

"Well," I began, "I used to know this boy, see, and he showed me. Don't stop 
moving it, Sally. Good, just like that. And anyway, he used to like to do 
that. He said I couldn't get pregnant that way and he'd just lick me and 
lick me. God, it's the wildest feeling ... right now, it's the best feeling 
I can imagine in the whole world." 

"You ... want me to ... I mean, you want me to do that to you down there?" 

"Do you want to, Sal?" 

"Damn, I dunno! I mean I never even ... " 

I knew I had to get her to kiss me on my fur-burger and my fuck-button like 
Daddy did. And, I also knew I would do anything to get her to do it to me. I 
couldn't have her back away now, no matter what I had to go through. 

"Want me to show you how?" I said. 

"You mean, you'll do that to me?" 

"Sure," I answered. I knew I sounded a lot more confident and self-assured 
than I really felt, but I also knew I had to get her mouth on me. "But only 
if you promise that you'll do me, too." 

"I dunno ... " 

"Of course, if you don't want to ... if you want to play around with old 
broom handles and hot dogs the rest of your life and never know what it's 
like to be eaten off ... " 

"Well ... I ... okay. But only if you do it to me first" 

"Okay," I said. "Here, you lift up your dress and lie on the couch. No, on 
second thought, why don't we take off all our clothes and then, after we're 
done loving each other up real good, we can go down for a swim!" 

Still somewhat reluctant, but now with an added fire of eagerness, Sally 
pulled the dress over her shoulders and slipped out of her flimsy lace 
panties. She stood for a moment, clad only in her bra before she moved 
toward the couch. It was then that I thought of this groovy idea. 

"Let's go into the bedroom," I said. "I mean into Daddy's bedroom. He's got 
a great big bed in there and we can both lie down." 

"What if he finds us?" 

"He won't find out, silly. C'mon." 

I looped one arm around her narrow, hot waist and half led her into Daddy's 
and my bedroom where she lay on the bed as I slipped out of my housecoat. 
"Now take off your bra," I said, "and just relax. Spread your legs open and 
just take it easy ... " 

Although I kept talking possibly more to boost my own confidence than to 
give her any, I could feel an added surge of excitement going through me 
coupled with a deep-seated feeling of doubt. I didn't know whether I wanted 
to go through with it after all, but now I had to. 

I kept trying to think of her doing it to me as I knelt on the bed, moved up 
so that my knees were almost between hers and then first with my hands on 
her hips and then moving them under her tenderly round buttocks, I lowered 
ray face so that my mouth was almost on her cunt. 

I waited for a moment, then stared at the soft open folds of her vaginal 
lips and the little wet pointed finger of her clit as it seemed to beckon to 
me to come even nearer. Then, taking a deep breath, I sunk my fingers into 
the flesh of her behind as I lowered my mouth to her waiting hole. 

If I had any doubts about being disgusted or repelled, they were instantly 
shattered. Her clitoris seemed to fit exactly between my lips and my tongue 
savored the delicately scented juice of her inner vagina. 

"Holy Jesus!" Sally gasped as my tongue slithered the length of her erect 
clitoris and pushed into her vaginal tract. "That's the greatest thing in 
the world ... Jesus, I'm going to come already. I can't stop it. I'm going 
to ... Holy Jesus ... " 

And with that, her body gave a shuddering throb, her hands entwined 
themselves in my hair pulling my face tighter to her groin and her legs 
seemed to flail and kick to a point where I thought she might break the bed. 

Finally, though her convulsions and gasps and swearing had stopped and she 
lay back panting as though she had just run a mile in about two minutes 
flat, she moaned. 

"Well," I asked. "Didn't I tell you?" 

"Yes! God, but I had no idea. I never came off like that in my whole life. 
That's just too fast for me. I can't see straight." 

"Now, you gotta do me," I said. "You promised, remember?" 

"Okay," she gasped, "but you gotta give me a minute at least to catch my 
breath. I never had anything like that happen to me before. Oh, my God, 
you're really something ... " 

I let her lie there on Daddy's bed until it seemed as though her breathing 
had become more regular again, and as I waited, I became increasingly more 
eager for her caress. If I had made her come as fast as that, surely it was 
only because I was female too and knew exactly where and how to touch her 
for the maximum sensation. That meant that she would know the same thing and 
that being loved up by a woman would be better than with a man. 

Finally, I rolled over on my back and spread my legs apart for her. "Come 
and get it, Sally," I urged. "I haven't got all day." 

"Okay, okay. Take it easy." 

I kept my eyes open as she moved into position between my spread legs. Her 
face held an expression of doubt, but I gently placed my hands on either 
side of her head so that her ears rested gently in my palms and our eyes 
caught for just a moment before we both smiled and she lowered her mouth to 
my seething cunt. 

At first, her movements were shy and mouselike as if she were experimenting. 
Then she gradually wanned to her task and as she did, I could feel the 
pleasure mounting in intensity within me. 

What aversion or doubt she may have had at the beginning soon vanished as 
her lips and tongue gradually explored the molten cavern of my desire and as 
she became more relaxed and free with her movements, I, too, began to savor 
added tingles of delight. 

Her tongue was like a magic wand working strange and fantastic miracles with 
every fibre of my body. It seemed as if the waves of sheer physical pleasure 
that began in my groin were spreading throughout my entire being, surging 
through my torso, along the length of my limbs and flashing through every 
finger and toe. 

I gasped aloud with the ecstasy of it and although I tried to keep my head 
up and my eyes open so that I could see her head gently moving in a rolling 
motion between my legs, I could not. All my energy was drained, and all my 
being was between my legs centered in the exact spot where she now labored 
in her own delight. My head fell back to the pillow, my eyes shut and I 
experienced pure ecstatic pleasure that mounted and mounted until I could 
hold my reaction back no longer. 

I tried to keep my body from the ultimate response because I wanted to savor 
every tingle of joy and make it last forever but I failed. My bodily 
responses would not hold back - the walls and bonds broke and shattered and 
there I was, roaring into a wild and golden orgasm that shivered every nerve 
I had, spasming me into the clouds of roaring passion that were the ultimate 
of anything and everything any human being can possibly ever experience. 

I experienced the intensity of it for a moment and an eternity, as it 
constantly built within me, pressing ever harder to explode, shaking my 
limbs involuntarily and squeezing every organ until finally the thrill of it 
was so much that I could not bear the strain any longer. 

With a shrill cry escaping from within my lips, I completely blacked out. 

How long I remained like that, I shall never know, but it couldn't have been 
too long. I awoke with Sally, still naked, leaning over me, pressing a cold 
towel to my forehead. 

Words were no longer necessary for we both knew that we had found something 
neither one of us could ever deny again. This was the greatest pleasure I 
had ever known. It was not love in an emotional sense, but it was pure 
physical abandon based on two young girls who knew each other's body as 
their own. We had now discovered how to give and take pleasure so intensely 
that with only one experience, we were both addicted. 

Slowly, I managed to rise from the bed and walk into the bathroom where I 
splashed water on my face and gradually retained my physical sanity again. 

When I came out of the bathroom, Sally was already dressed in the bottom 
half of her bathing suit, but her young breasts were still bare. They jutted 
toward me, begging me to caress them and, as if hypnotized, I walked to 
where she stood, gently took one in each hand and leaned over to kiss first 
the left and then the right. 

Again, neither of us spoke. Instead, we both donned our complete swim 
outfits and went down to the pool for a morning swim. 

We spent two hours or so in and around the pool, and then went back to the 
apartment for lunch, but it was as if we were again compelled to experiment 
with our adolescent bodies before savoring more substantial food. This time 
I was so eager to have her lips on mine that I asked her to lie on the 
living room floor. I almost ripped the bottom from my bathing suit and knelt 
on the floor so that I straddled her eager mouth and tongue. 

As she licked and kissed my eager cunt, I leaned forward and none too gently 
pulled her own bathing suit bottom away from her hips and down the length of 
her legs. Then, allowing my torso to fall forward, I lowered my mouth to her 
wet pubic bush and inserted my tongue and lips into her gaping, sopping 
hole. We lay there in seventh heaven, savoring the taste of one another and 
the wild, wanton ecstasy of what the other was doing and then - then we 
spasmed together into a writhing, twisting orgasm that was so complete that 
neither of us could move for almost five minutes! 

In my sated pleasure, I had no idea what implications our lesbian pleasures 
would have. I only knew that I had never experienced pleasure so intense in 
my whole young life. 

For that moment, Sally and her wonderful mouth were all I could think of. We 
cooked a small bit of lunch and then returned to the pool. Then, in the 
afternoon we again returned to the apartment and again enjoyed the intensely 
exhausting pleasures of mutual orgasm before it suddenly dawned on me that 
Daddy was due back at any moment. 

Like a demon, I leaped from his bed and hurried Sally into her street 
clothes. Then, just before she left, I pulled her close to me and kissed her 
full on the mouth, letting my tongue savor the hot warmth of her breath and 
the magic excitement that was there. 

Reluctantly, I let her go and then drained, sated and exhausted, I collapsed 
on the couch in the living room to await the return of the man I loved ... 
the man whose love I had defiled by my childish experiment in pleasure. 

 Chapter Eleven 

I was so exhausted when Daddy came home that evening that I couldn't think 
of anything, particularly the sudden change in our relationship that began 
the very instant he opened the door and walked across the room to embrace 
me. It wasn't that I was positively cold to him, but rather that I was 
drained by my experiences with Sally that afternoon. 

Now I was neither child nor wife ... I was nothing more than a body being 
driven towards a narcotic to be found only in the oral embraces of a 
teen-age girl. 

Daddy and I ate dinner in silence. He cooked it because I told him that I 
wasn't feeling too well and then, instead of sitting up with him, I went 
immediately to bed. Even in a simple act like that, I was torn apart. Part 
of me wanted to return to my own room - the room in which I had never slept 
- while another part still recognized the deep emotional love I had for my 
father and wanted to curl up with him in the big bed. Finally, habit won out 
and I went to the master bedroom. 

When he came in and stripped out of his clothing to lie beside me as my 
lover, my husband and my man, I knew I didn't want him to touch me. I was 
ashamed of what I had done with Sally and I was terrified that, if Daddy did 
touch me, his fingers would never be able to bring the old fire back to me. 
I was in the trap of physical and emotional conflict that besets every woman 
who has cheated, but I had no idea what I could do about it. 

I rolled over on my side facing away from Daddy but could feel him snuggle 
tight against me and could feel the hard rising of his turgid penis pressing 
against my buttocks. But the terror held me and feigning sleep, I repulsed 
his efforts at love. 

Throughout the whole tawdry and degenerate affair with Sally, Daddy remained 
silent and understanding. He never pressed me for sexual congress and never 
questioned my excuses. Perhaps he might have, if my association with Sally 
had lasted longer than it did. But the human body and fate and lusty desire 
are all strange things. I do know that what happened to Sally was almost 
destined to be. 

She had never been popular with boys and had always felt shy around them. 
When I introduced her to the joys of cunt-sucking, I really should have 
known that she, like I, would experiment with others and also that she, who 
had never really been in love as I was, would chase after the sparkling 
magnet of lesbianism as a moth dives into the incinerating heat of a candle 
flame. 

But that week - that first gloriously exhausting week with Sally - was an 
agony and an ecstasy I could never forget. I was hooked. I couldn't stop our 
daily affairs, which always followed the pattern of that first day. She 
would arrive after Daddy left in the morning, we would have our first sex, 
then swim, then return for our second and then, still driven by the monster 
of our twin desires, perform yet again in the afternoon! 

But the pace was exhausting and guilt became my master to the point where 
great handfuls of my hair began to drop out. Somehow, as if by an instinct, 
I knew that the trouble I was having with my hair was not a medical one, so 
I was almost elated when, with the beginning of the second week, Sally 
didn't show up as usual. 

At first, I was totally relieved when she didn't show up, but then, after I 
had done the housework for the first time hi a week and had changed into my 
bathing suit, I began to wonder if perhaps something had happened to her. 
With this thought in mind, I tried to concentrate on my swimming, but it 
didn't work. I had to know where she was. 

I returned to the apartment, changed into a shift and making sure the door 
was locked behind me, walked over to Sally's house. If I had had any idea of 
what I would find over there when I arrived, I would never have made the 
trip. 

Sally lived in a residential area near my apartment house. The house which 
her mother owned was older than the rest in the neighborhood and had a 
complete basement. As Sally and I were good friends, her mother had given me 
permission to enter the house through the basement door any time I wanted to 
do so. 

It had become a habit every time I went over there to enter through the 
basement because I wanted to avoid Sally's mother. On this particular day, I 
entered the usual way, walked down the three steps that led to the basement 
and playroom, and recoiled at the scene I saw before me. 

Sally was lying back on the overstaffed couch that rested against the far 
wall of the playroom with one slender leg resting along the back of the 
couch, the other bent at the knee with her foot on the floor. Between her 
legs, a fully grown woman - stark naked - moved back and forth in violently 
passionate gestures, hip to hip, as her eager head bobbed up and down on 
Sally's tiny breasts. 

I could see from where I stood that the woman seemed to be wearing some sort 
of belt around her waist, and nothing more. I was so shocked and appalled by 
the vision before me that my hand leaped to my mouth and an involuntary gasp 
escaped my lips. 

Apparently, the woman - not Sally -heard me and whirled around. Her body 
pulled away from the gaping vagina of my friend and revealed that she was 
wearing some sort of artificial prick belted around her waist. It was a 
huge, curved organ, glistening with moisture from where it had so recently 
been imbedded and, as its wearer turned to face me, it vibrated in the dim 
light. 

"What the hell do you want?" she demanded as she rose and took a threatening 
pace toward me. 

I couldn't have answered if my life had depended on it and - for all I knew 
- it might have. Fortunately, the sound of the woman's voice made Sally 
herself open her eyes to look around the room. As if in a daze, she finally 
focused on me and in a soft, sheepish voice, half spoke, half whispered, 
"Oh, hi?" 

"Hi, yourself," I managed. "I hope you're having fun!" 

"Oh, God," Sally said, ignoring the sarcasm in my remark. "Goddamn, am I 
ever! Lucille's got-some fake dick that makes you really feel wild!" 

"Shut up," the woman said. She was still standing in front of the couch 
glaring at me, the huge prick bobbing up and down before her. 

"Hey, it's okay, Lucy," Sally said. "She's okay. She's a friend of mine." 

"I was a friend of yours," I corrected. "I never want to see you again!" 
With that I whirled around, ran up the cellar stairs and out the door. 

I was running so fast I hardly had time to think until I finally staggered 
into Daddy's and my apartment. Then, completely exhausted, emotionally and 
physically, I rushed into the bedroom and threw myself on the huge bed. 

Grasping the pillow that still held a soft memory of Daddy's after-shaving 
lotion, I buried my face in it, clutching it to my breasts, and bawled in 
choking agony. 

I was still lying there in some form of a trance when Daddy finally came 
home. If he called for me, I didn't hear. I do know that I felt pressure 
beside me on the bed and his gentle hand on my shoulder and his soft, 
familiar voice saying, "There, there, kitten. It's all right." 

At last my sobs broke into a torrent of wailing grief and hurt. I grabbed 
Daddy around the waist and buried my head in his lap as my very soul poured 
out in tears that were long overdue. 

For days, I couldn't explain my emotions for they were such a tangled 
mixture of hate, fear, hurt, guilt and love, plus the adolescence that I had 
willingly denied myself. But again Daddy was understanding and did not press 
me. He was the most wonderful, understanding, loving man in the whole world 
and it was that quality that, three days later, made me confess to him my 
experiences with Sally. 

Strangely enough, it changed Daddy's and my relationship a final time. For 
my confession brought about a new kind of love between my man and me - a 
love that could only be fulfilled by a woman's most priceless gift. 

I had to give, to prove my love, even though I knew that by giving I was to 
ruin the very relationship that was more valuable to me than anything else 
in the world. 

 Chapter Twelve 

For three days, I lived a life of abject penitence. I stayed in the 
apartment silently doing every extra chore I could think of. As if, by 
working harder and harder, I could erase my own guilt and prove to Daddy 
that I really loved him and no one else. But after all that work, I found 
that I could not live with myself. I knew I had to confess. 

Daddy was my mentor, my confident - my all! I could not continue living in 
secret shame, holding a part of myself away from him. Because of this, I had 
to tell him about the lesbian affair with Sally. 

I started all right, but then, as I began to continue the story in hopes of 
easing my own conscience, I lost all self-control, I broke into a sobbing 
confession, blurting out all the details of our perverse acts. But the main 
part was my confession that I had only done it to test my love for Daddy, 
that I had wanted to find out if others could thrill me in order to compare 
his ministrations. 

Throughout the whole terrible scene, he remained calm and understanding. 
Finally I threw myself across his knees and buried my face in his lap, 
begging for forgiveness and promising that I would never do anything like 
that ever again. 

He merely stroked me gently on the back of the head and said over and over 
again, "It's all right, kitten. It's all right!" 

That night, it seemed as if the slate of my guilt had been wiped clean. 
Emotionally, at any rate, I was a virgin again. We lay in bed for a long 
time before any physical contact was made, but we were sharing a fantastic 
love nonetheless. When Daddy did reach out to touch me, an electrical shock 
soared through me with an intensity I had never experienced before. 

That night, after my confession about Sally and myself, I completely gave 
myself to Daddy, literally fusing my soul with his. The emotions we shared 
then were to cement the bond between us - an amalgam no lovers ever made 
stronger. It was a deep feeling that needed no words, that knew no guilt, 
because we were both godlike in our love and cared naught for the whims of 
society. 

That was our first total emotional and physical commitment on a mutual 
basis, and I know that I will never, ever achieve anything even remotely 
similar with any other man. 

Our love was never cracked, dimmed or lessened in the next two years. Many 
of the boys at school asked me for dates, but I refused them all and no one 
would ever have found out our secret if it hadn't been for the depth of my 
own love. 

I think I probably knew from the very beginning that I wanted Daddy to fill 
me with his child. But it was an instinctual feeling then. It didn't reach 
the surface until after I had passed my sixteenth birthday. Then it began to 
grow into a fixation, It seemed that not a day passed when I didn't dream of 
making our love complete by bringing a new life into the world. 

Daddy had taught me research and scholarship. I haunted the local library, 
reading everything I could about incest and the effects of it on offspring. 
I could not find one valid example of deficiency brought on by incest alone. 
Granted, some books insisted that certain traits could be increased by 
incestuous mating so that if both the father and daughter were feebleminded, 
their child might be too. But neither Daddy nor I had any medical or mental 
weaknesses! 

I really searched and read all I could about incest, babies, contraception 
and fertility, and finally, lying in bed with Daddy one calm night, told him 
flatly that I wanted his baby. 

Somehow, I don't think he was in the least surprised at my demand. I 
honestly believe that he, too, wanted to give birth to a living proof of our 
love. I also know that he, if for no other reason than his added age, had a 
tendency to be far more careful than I. 

"You know we can't do that, kitten," he told me. "Just think of the 
repercussions!" 

"Please, Daddy," I begged. "Make a baby in me. Let me give you a child. 
Please!" 

"Kitten," he began as if searching for words, "don't you know what would 
happen if you got pregnant? What we do, what we share may be beautiful here 
in the apartment where no one else knows about it or sees us, but the world 
out there is different. To them, it's wrong, terribly wrong, even though 
they can't explain why. If you had a child, kitten, they'd know about it. 
They'd have to punish us, put us in jail. You just can't do it, kitten." 

"What if I married someone else, only made sure it was yours?" I asked. 

"Do you really want to do that?" he challenged. "Do you really want to live 
with someone else just to have my baby? Besides, you don't really know men, 
kitten. No one willing to marry you would be content to sleep away from you. 
You're just too desirable." 

With that, he gently placed the palm of one hand on my lower abdomen just 
between the top of my vagina and my navel. The sudden soft touch of his 
fingers thrilled me beyond words. I responded by rolling over and gripping 
his penis tightly in one fist. "Please, Daddy," I begged again. "Please, 
make a baby." 

As I spoke, I realized what a tremendous impact my word had, for I could 
feel instant life surge into his organ, making it as hard and erect as I had 
ever felt it. 

I could not wait for play or massage. I straddled his body in the same way I 
had when I broke my maidenhead. Impaling myself upon his turgid desire I 
pressed my torso against his, pushing and thrusting with every bit of 
strength in my body. All the while I cried and murmured: 

"Make a baby, make a baby. Oh, Daddy, please, make a baby in me ... " And 
when I felt the hot, scalding fire of his come within me, I even convinced 
myself that I had suddenly become pregnant with the son of my own father. 

Then, the dream shattered as I realized that with all my fantasies and all 
my wants, I had still been meticulously regular in taking my contraceptive 
pills. I could not become pregnant that night! But there would be one - 
there had to be! I kept telling myself this every moment I thought of my 
dream to become a mother. 

I was determined in some feminine way to go through with my plan, if only I 
could find a way. In every thinking moment, I began to ponder just how I 
could get pregnant without upsetting Daddy or letting the world know what 
kind of love we shared. But other forces of fate were in operation at the 
same time. 

I had not seen Sally since the moment I walked out of her basement playroom 
in a fit of jealous pique. In the two years that had passed, she had 
telephoned me a couple of times, but I had never offered to see her. I had 
wanted no more of her perverted life and thought the best way to avoid being 
sucked into total lesbianism was to avoid all contact with any of its 
practitioners. 

I never even knew who the woman with Sally had been. I can only guess that 
after our first childish experiments, Sally had actively sought out other, 
older female partners. While still a mere child, Sally had totally committed 
herself to a homosexual life. 

But there was something else she had committed herself to and, as I 
gradually began to learn the facts, I discovered that Sally, like so many 
other young kids who strive for kicks without meaning, had virtually 
committed suicide in her own unique way. 

My first inclination of this was a small town item in the local newspaper 
stating simply that a teen-aged girl had been found dead in her own home. 
Her mother had reported the matter to the police. The item went on to 
mention Sally's name and address, and her mother's name, but gave no further 
details. 

At first, even the name didn't ring a mental bell with me. Then it all came 
back! I was shocked and horrified and perhaps' even a bit curious and morbid 
about it all. 

The day I first read the news was a weekday. I liked to read the paper 
before Daddy got home and, right after school I would usually do it. Almost 
immediately after discovering this one particular item, I telephoned Sally's 
mother, just to ask if it was true. 

I must say that she sounded like a rock of strength over the phone. But when 
I asked if there was anything I could do, she did say she would like it if I 
could come over. Of course, I had only made the offer out of politeness 
without any real intent to follow through, but now I had trapped myself by 
my own words. 

Reluctantly, I hung up the phone, wrote a short note to Daddy to explain my 
absence and walked over to Sally's house. What I found there shall live in 
my memory until the day I die. 

My first impression of the house and Sally's mother was completely ordinary. 
She seemed completely calm, at least on the surface. 

The house appeared to be neat and cheerful without any of the aura that 
often surrounds a place of recent death. But these impressions, although 
real and valid, were only a surface veneer. As Sally's mother asked me to 
sit down and brought me a cup of tea, she seemed less and less able to hide 
the true emotions within her pain-wracked body. 

Apparently looking for some form of confessor Sally's age, she began to 
bubble forth the whole, degenerate story - a story that would never reach 
the papers even though in many ways it is typical of hundreds of other 
stories being lived in this country this very day and hour. 

It seems that after her divorce, Sally's mother had made a genuine effort to 
be both mother and father to her only daughter. But she hadn't quite known 
how! She had had to make a living and give her child love, but she freely 
admitted that she had been afraid to discipline Sally in any way for fear of 
losing the dependent affection she had had for her. 

She had known about Sally's masturbation and even knew it stemmed from a 
deep-seated insecurity. But she had been unable to bring herself to the 
point of a heart-to-heart talk with her daughter once she had found out 
about it back in the early days. 

She had thought that I was perhaps the only "normal" friend that Sally had 
ever had. I thanked my lucky stars that she seemed to have no knowledge of 
our single solitary week of lesbian love, but she certainly was not as 
ignorant of Sally's other associations. She knew of the first mature woman 
who had seduced Sally; had even known that she had introduced her daughter 
to marijuana, but still with a terrible fear of losing Sally's affections, 
she had kept her lips sealed. 

A few times, she confessed to me, she had tried to broach the subject with 
Sally, but each time, something seemed to hold her back. Instead of being 
firm, she had usually gone out to buy Sally something by way of a surprise, 
such as a new dress or record she had mentioned she wanted. 

Gradually, of course, the situation became worse on both sides. As her 
mother became more inhibited, Sally became more brazen to the point where 
she would have lesbian parties in the basement while her mother was at work. 
Finally, sex was coupled with other thrills like "goof balls" and sniffing 
various things like glue and hair spray. That was what finally killed Sally. 

During an orgy, she had taken a deep breath of some aerosol compound to 
heighten her lesbian pleasures and, in so doing had literally committed 
suicide. 

Her mother told me that two of her friends were still trying to get her 
dressed when she discovered them with her daughter's dead body. For the 
first time in her life with Sally, she had taken a firm stand and command of 
a situation. She had completely dressed her daughter, told the others to go 
and then, when she had made the situation look like a simple case of suicide 
by accident, had called the police. 

"I don't want a scandal," she said. "I don't want any of those maniacs 
coming to the funeral. Could you ... I mean, could you and some of her 
normal friends come? Just to make it look as if Sally was a nice, normal 
girl." And with that, she lost control and snapped. Placing both hands 
against her face, Sally's mother began to sob into her palms. 

There was nothing for me to do but to agree to speak to some of Sally's old 
friends and to attend the funeral with them. But the next three days were so 
hectic, so fraught with fear and sorrow, that I had no time to think or 
dream of the baby I had wanted so badly. 

Poor Sally had been caught in a trap of her own making and the jaws had 
snapped shut with violent force. That thought stayed with me in my mind 
throughout all the telephone calls I had to make and through the funeral 
itself. I went there with Daddy and could hardly think of anything else as 
the minister spoke the final eulogy for Sally. 

After it was over, I took a tight hold of Daddy's hand as we left the small 
cemetery chapel. Without words, we walked back to where we had parked the 
car. Still silent, I opened the door and started to get in. But my dress 
caught on the latch. Before I could realize it, I had ripped a small rip in 
it. My dress had been caught by the car's door and now - suddenly in a flash 
of total awareness - I knew that I would be caught, too. 

I knew exactly how I would have Daddy's and my baby, and the child that I 
hoped would bring ultimate fulfillment to our already perfect relationship 
was already in the planning. 

What I didn't realize was the fact that we had already been caught in 
another way and that the child, instead of giving the fulfillment of which I 
dreamed, would constitute the final trap - a trap that was soon to slam shut 
with the same power and deadly force that had snuffed the life from my 
friend, Sally. 

But it is true, ignorance is bliss and in the great rose-colored cloud of my 
dream, I set about to become pregnant. 

My first task, of course, was already complete. I had timed my menstrual 
cycle to a point where I more or less knew the time at which I would be most 
fertile. 

My second task was to give up the pill entirely, without letting Daddy know. 
This, I began immediately even though I had over half a container still in 
the medicine cabinet. 

 Chapter Thirteen 

My plan was really quite simple. It's a wonder I hadn't thought of it long 
before I did. I was going to allow Daddy to get me pregnant, tell him the 
truth, and after that, we would both tell the world that I had been raped. 

Exactly how all this was to take place and in what sequence, I had no idea. 
I was so dependent upon Daddy being able to run my life, that I thought, in 
this case too, he would prove to be the wiser of the two of us. 

It was summer. A warm, humid night and the window of the bedroom was open. 
Because we had a second-story apartment, neither Daddy nor I had paid much 
attention to drawing the shades. 

There were no buildings particularly close to us and the new apartment house 
that had recently been completed near us was almost fifty yards away. The 
blanket and top sheet of the bed had been pulled down so that we could enjoy 
what little of the cool breeze that came through the wide open window. 

Daddy and I were both lying on top of the bed, completely naked before going 
to sleep. We were talking about buying a new car so that I could have the 
old one for my very own. We were lying facing one another each with our 
heads nestled on our elbows, and as he talked about some of the automotive 
literature he had read, Daddy reached out and gently ran his hand over the 
trough of my waist and up over the fullness of my now mature hips. The hips 
of a woman, not a child. 

It was slow and sensual, but more a gesture full of love than tingling with 
animal desire. Even then, however, I sensed that this night would, somehow 
be different. How terribly, terribly different, I could never guess. But 
then, I listened to what he had to say and savored the delicate sensations 
of his fingers gently caressing my flesh. 

Gradually, however, the pure tenderness of his caress changed me to more 
positive desire. I rolled onto my back so that his probing fingers could 
find my sexual parts and fondle and play with them. I loved it when he did 
that to me, because it made the whole lovemaking seem longer and richer and 
fuller; it was such a gradual building of passion within my body! 

His fingers inched into me, playing with my vagina and clitoris as if they 
were frets on some remarkable musical instrument. I, in turn, reached out 
and took a gentle grip of his rod. Slowly, I gave it a tug and began to move 
the loose outer flesh up and down until he, too, became harder and harder. 

Still, I continued my gentle ministrations knowing that as I did so, he 
would become even more erect and desirous of sharing his body and soul with 
me. But both of us knew that this initial play couldn't last forever and 
finally, as if of a single accord, we stopped as he rolled to a position 
where he was kneeling with his buttocks on his heels, between my knees. He 
gripped his huge prick - the tool of my most intense pleasure - in one hand. 
Gently leaning forward, Daddy placed the hot tip of it into the opening of 
my passion. As he moved this way, I stared at the beauty of our two bodies 
joining in forbidden passion, yet in passion so great that even if it had 
been forbidden a million times, I still would have found some way to 
continue with our lovemaking. I watched him move so that just the head of 
his prick sank within me and my lips seemed to rise to meet it and jawlessly 
clamp it tight inside me. 

But he teased me that night. He pulled away and it seemed that a frightening 
gush of cold air hit the spot where he had just been. It was frustrating and 
yet doubly exciting, for within a split second, he again touched me with his 
love stick and this time pressed himself just a little bit farther into my 
steaming need. 

Again he pulled all the way out, letting the hotness of almost-congress be 
replaced by humid summer air that seemed by comparison to have been blown 
over an iceberg. He did this again and again as I watched and panted in wild 
anticipation. 

Each time he would pull completely away from me and then sink himself back 
into my eager opening just the slightest bit farther than he had been the 
time before. And each time he did so, he remained in such a position that I 
had a complete and unobstructed view of the meeting of our genitals. Even 
when he made his last move, he was like a man doing pushups, his upper 
weight resting on his straight arms and his legs extended between mine. We 
lay there for a long time watching the fusion of our sexual parts. 

Feeling the same impossible sensations surging through me I could no longer 
stand it and reaching up to throw both my arms around his back, pulled him 
down to me with all my strength and cried, "Daddy! Oh, Daddy, do it Make a 
baby in me ... " 

He still thought I was taking the pills, and my words seemed to make his 
penis even harder inside me. Like a shaft of sheer power and energy, it slid 
back and forth in my welcoming cunt, the servant of a monstrous passion. 

And then after what seemed like hours of agonized pleasure during which I 
savored each tingle of our love, I felt the first throbs of his involuntary 
muscles pulsating him into orgasm. With the heat of his love exploding into 
me, I could feel in surging up into me, meeting and boring into my waiting 
egg. Only then was I so completed with the knowledge that I lost all control 
and, wrapping my legs tight around his back, I tried to rise to the very 
ceiling as he plowed toward the floor. 

My orgasm was total, complete and full of woman's secret knowledge. I knew 
without fear or shame that I was pregnant! Soon I would bear the child I had 
always wanted. The offspring of the man I loved more than anyone or anything 
in the world. 

But, even though I was sure in my heart, I wanted to be sure in terms of 
logic, too. During the next week and a half, I made sure that we experienced 
total sexual congress every night and in as many different positions as we 
knew. I was determined to have enough of his sperm in me so that I couldn't 
escape becoming pregnant. 

So involved was I with my love and my desire to become pregnant that I did 
not even bother to look out the bedroom window. Even if I had, I doubt if I 
would have assigned any importance to the occasional fleck of reflected 
moonlight that struck a pinpoint of brightness in the window of an apartment 
opposite our own. But, had I known what caused the light, I'm sure I would 
have begged Daddy to move as soon as possible. 

The owners of the apartment house in which Daddy and I lived, had long been 
thinking of expansion. They allowed children, of course, and rented only on 
lease arrangements and as soon as they were able, began construction of a 
second apartment complex about fifty yards from the first. That was the new 
building that rose far away outside our bedroom window. 

But, to save money, even though the two huge buildings were apart, the 
owners conceived the idea of putting a playground in the center of the new 
building so that tenants with younger non-swimming children could live 
there. If anyone there wanted to swim, he could walk across the park area 
that separated the two buildings and use the pool where Daddy and I lived. 

Because the pool was a large one and everyone in both buildings met at least 
once, and also because of the fact that both buildings were heavily 
populated with children, most parents were on speaking terms with one 
another. 

The light reflected from the opposite window, however, belonged to a boy I 
had not yet met. His name was Steve and he was a curious thirteen. The light 
itself was the reflection of the moon's glow off the lenses of a pair of 
powerful binoculars through which he enjoyed looking, in order to see Daddy 
and me make our love. 

Had the knowledge of our love affair been confined to Steve, it would have 
gone no further. He was not a tease and, if anything, was very shy. I'm sure 
he watched first put of curiosity and then because of some budding 
adolescent instinct toward his own sexual cravings. Undoubtedly, he would 
have continued to watch and enjoy without speaking. Unfortunately, he, too, 
was caught in his private pleasures by his grandmother who shared her 
knowledge with her son (his father) and daughter-in-law. They, in turn, knew 
that Daddy and I were just that - parent and child - and taking our behavior 
into their own moralistic hands reported the affair to the manager. 

But all this came about later, after the time I knew I was pregnant and 
after the times when I intensified my sexual contacts to make sure that my 
"knowledge" would become fact. 

Actually, we had three more glorious months of borrowed time in which to 
savor every last shred of our consuming passion and we did just that. The 
only thing that disrupted our relationship at all was my announcement, in 
point of fact, that I was pregnant because my period had not started on 
time. 

Daddy's reaction was a strange mixture of resignation - he must have known I 
would do it sooner or later - and quiet joy, but he was also careful. 

We both agreed on the rape story, it being that I had taken the car to a 
movie two weeks ago and, in coming out of the theatre had been attacked by a 
complete stranger in the parking lot. But before telling the tale, we wanted 
to be sure such a lie would be necessary. 

Daddy took me to a doctor, explained the false story, told the medical man 
that we hadn't been to the police because of the possible scandal but that 
he wanted to make sure I didn't have any venereal disease or symptoms of 
pregnancy. We were both terribly worried he said, because I hadn't gotten my 
period on time. 

Of course, I knew, and I'm sure Daddy at least suspected that the laboratory 
tests would show me to be pregnant Our next stop was the police. 

They asked us why we hadn't come in before now to report this. And again we 
explained that shame and fear had held us back and that we probably wouldn't 
have come in at all except for the fact that now I was pregnant. Since there 
was no allowance for abortion, as far as the police knew, I was just another 
girl who had to wait her time before delivering a child for adoption. 

The plan was complete. We had reported the rape and had been virtually 
assured by the police that, with the information they had, it would be 
almost impossible to catch the person responsible. But we were covered. 
Their report was dated and I had checked the theatre on the supposed night 
of the attack so that I knew what picture had been shown at that time. 

Daddy and I had thought of everything, and now settled down to wait for an 
event which I knew was going to be the happiest of my life. The only thing I 
hadn't planned on was Steve. And even if I had, I could have no idea that in 
addition to watching us make love through his binoculars, he also kept a 
completely detailed diary in which he described acts, positions and facial 
expressions - filing them by date! 

But for three months, I had no idea of these things and with a burden of 
frustration finally off my mind and with the full knowledge that now I was 
"caught" as I wanted to be, I seemed to become even less inhibited than I 
had been before. 

Now that Daddy and I had proved our love, we both seemed to become wildly 
and freely passionate for the time we had left. We played and experimented 
and threw all caution to the winds. It was as if I was a grown, mature woman 
with an easy lover and he was the young boy testing all the things he had 
heard about sex. 

But the sands in our hourglass of pleasure were running out and only a few 
grains remained to drop before our love would be wrenched apart by an 
unthinking, uncaring society. 

Strangely, when it finally happened, it was almost as if I knew it would be 
that way. Stage by complicated stage, with a hint here and a sign there, I 
watched the temple of our love crumble around us as the cannonade of society 
battered its walls. When the ultimate shot was fired, it was Daddy, not I, 
who was shocked. 

 Chapter Fourteen 

It began quietly - with whispers, spoken doubts and the silent condemnation 
of strangers. How long it had been going on before I sensed something 
definitely wrong, I don't know. But certainly I became aware of a change 
long before any outward signs of my pregnancy were evident. 

At the time, I was fairly well known, at least on a casual basis, to almost 
everyone in the apartment house. In the summer, when I had nothing else to 
do, I enjoyed sunning myself and swimming in the pool, and it was a rare day 
when I didn't engage in some short but friendly conversation with one of the 
other women there. 

I don't know how they had previously thought of me, but I, because of the 
relationship with Daddy, always considered myself as one of them - housewife 
and all with little to do while her husband was working - who could relax by 
the pool enjoying the conversation of members of her own sex, indulging in 
the relaxation of girl-talk. 

But the day I first noticed things were wrong, was the afternoon I walked 
down to the pool and felt something amiss in the air. Two women were seated 
there at one of the table and when I waved to them, I noticed that both of 
them turned away. 

I thought little of that. They might not have seen me. But as I came close 
and snugged my hair into my bathing cap, I heard one of them say, 
"Absolutely depraved ... a man that age ... " and the other replied, "That 
poor child, poor, poor child. She probably doesn't even know." 

Then, just as I reached the lip of the pool, the first one said, "Doesn't 
know! Indeed! She's as brazen and sick as he is. Just think! With her own 
father!" 

At that moment, I dove into the pool and swam the length, thinking perhaps 
that my ears had deceived me. But, I knew all the while that they hadn't - 
the two women were talking about me and Daddy. In the next two days, I 
overheard other similar snatches of conversation and caught condemning 
glances cast my way. 

Then, on the afternoon of the third day, as I was in the apartment alone, 
there was a knock on the door and I opened it for a woman I knew but 
slightly. Her name was Mrs. Martin and she had been a tenant of the building 
for almost a year. I was as close to her as I was to anyone other than 
Daddy. At least I would stop and chat with her and once had shared a cup of 
coffee with her in her own apartment. 

This time, however, her facial expression was anything but happy. She was 
obviously concerned and her mouth was pulled tight in an expression of 
pursed regret. She asked if she might come in and I showed her into the 
living room and offered her a cigarette. 

She refused. "My dear," she said, "I never like to meddle on other people's 
affairs, but you're such a beautiful young girl with all of your life before 
you and I feel it's my Christian duty to explain some things to you." 

"What's that, Mrs. Martin?" tasked, innocently. 

"Oh, my dear child. Don't make it hard for me. I know - we all know. You've 
been actually - how can I put it? - seen in the ... the act!" 

"The act?" I still wasn't really sure what she was talking about. 

"Oh, my dear child," she said again. "You're so young. How could you know? 
How could you have any idea what a depraved and terrible thing you are being 
forced to undergo?" 

"I don't think I under - " 

"The whole apartment house is buzzing with it. About you and your father. 
Oh, how could that man do such a terrible thing to such a nice, young girl? 
I don't understand how he could do it, you poor thing, you poor, poor 
thing!" 

By this time, I knew what she was talking about, but I didn't care. The only 
thing on my mind was my intense love for Daddy and the knowledge that even 
now his child was growing within me. I was indignant and angry at Mrs. 
Martin's invasion of my privacy. I felt in my heart that everything that 
Daddy and I had experienced together was more real and meaningful and honest 
than any of the life around us. 

My anger welled up in my throat and I rose from where I had been sitting. 
"My father is not terrible," I announced, "and he hasn't made me do anything 
that I didn't want to. And, Mrs. Martin, I'll thank you to mind your own 
business and keep your nose out of my affairs." 

"Well!" she said. "I never!" 

"Then, that's your loss," I said between my teeth. "Now, if you'll leave me, 
I have some work to do!" 

She rose from her chair and huffed to the door. She stood there with one 
hand on the knob and turned to me a final time, her expression not one of a 
busybody but one of deep human concern. "Oh, my poor child," she said as if 
it was her only way of beginning a sentence, "if you only knew the horror, 
the stigma, the pain in store for you because of what you are doing. If you 
only knew!" 

"Get out!" I said. "And leave me and my daddy alone!" 

With that, she turned, opened the door and stalked out without my realizing 
that she actually had come to help - to warn me of the sure danger that lay 
in store for me and Daddy unless we gave up the expression of our love or 
moved to another location. 

Mrs. Martin had, in effect, been my last chance. Now, with my angry slamming 
of the door behind her, I had sealed the doom that had probably lurked over 
Daddy and me from the very first time I had shown him that I would be a 
willing partner to the oldest and most universal of human sins. 

What I didn't know was that Steve had already been caught by his grandmother 
and that she, too, had seen Daddy and me making love. Steve's grandmother 
had passed the information around to members of both apartment buildings. 
Because the knowledge was a hearsay proposition at best, Steve's father had 
conspired with the manager of the apartment house to make a private raid on 
Daddy and me, before calling the authorities and pressing charges of incest, 
child molestation and contributing to the delinquency of a minor, against 
Daddy. 

None of these things were known to me that day, but I was distraught about 
Mrs. Martin's visit, and the words and glances I had heard at the pool. Yet, 
I did feel some sort of premonition, some foreboding of disaster and some 
Intensification of the depth of our love. 

When Daddy came home that evening, I went out of my way to make him a 
delicious dry martini and to have an extra special dinner waiting for him. I 
wanted to do everything I could for him - even got his slippers to wear 
while he read the paper. When he got ready for bed, I insisted that he take 
a bath instead of a shower so that I could wash him like some Oriental slave 
might wash her master. 

Something inside me, something told me that this would be our last night 
together. I knew it; yet I didn't know it - it was a feeling. 

And because it could not be denied, I determined to make this last night 
together, this last joining of our souls and bodies that would take place 
later in the evening the most delicious and fulfilling experience either of 
us had ever had. 

After I had washed him all over in the tub, I took my own shower alone for 
the first time in months. When I had dried myself I made sure that my body 
was thoroughly powdered and little drops of perfume were on the tops of both 
my thighs. 

Then, after I had brushed my teeth, I walked into the bedroom, striking the 
most provocative pose I could in front of the big mirror. He could see my 
jutting breasts in the flesh and my rounded buttocks in the reflection. I 
asked him if he wanted another martini in bed. 

"That might be nice," he said "Why not?" 

Still naked and feeling full of seductive womanliness, I walked into the 
kitchen and mixed two large martinis. I poured them in tumblers with ice 
cubes instead of in stemmed glasses and returned to where Daddy still lay 
naked on the bed. There I handed him one and. as he took his first sip, 
gently reached out and took his cock in my hand. 

My premonition of doom seemed to swirl around me. But, as if knowing that 
this would be the end, I wanted to do everything in my power to make it 
unforgettable for both of us. I wanted to make Daddy's final experience with 
me as sensuously beautiful and exciting as I knew how. 

He sipped on his drink as I fondled his organ until it became erect. When it 
had achieved its total strength, I put my own glass down and gently lowered 
my head to his groin so that I could take his love tool in my mouth. I 
wanted to caress and kiss him without making the excitement too intense or 
rapid, for I wanted the tinglings of sensation that I knew shot through him 
to seem to last for an eternity. 

Perhaps, he, too, shared my premonition. For he seemed to relax totally and 
savor the thrills he was experiencing. But he would not let me bring him to 
ultimate climax that way. 

Apparently, he too, wanted to prove his undying love for me, for after a few 
minutes of allowing me to kiss and caress him, he put his glass down on the 
end table, twisted around on the bed and began to reciprocate the oral act. 

Never have I been so quietly thrilled and pleasantly, warmly aroused. That 
what he did was amazingly exciting I can never deny, but there was something 
about the movement of his lips and tongue on my sexual parts that was 
quietly sensual. It was not violent nor did it draw me inescapably toward a 
surging orgasm. 

The process was slow, delicate and delicious until we both seemed to sense 
the time was ripe for full sexual congress. 

Gently, Daddy removed his mouth from my wet vagina and with maddening 
slowness moved up so that we could both see his erect prick touch my vagina 
and then, slowly sink into the welcoming flesh. Without any violence or 
rapidity, I arched my hips toward his, twined my legs and arms around his 
muscular body and drifted into a physical and emotional dream that I shall 
never experience again. 

Our movements were slow and deliberate - almost like those of gourmets 
savoring a delicious meal knowing, yet not knowing, that it was to be our 
last. 

We both wanted to prolong our ultimate responses as much as we could, but 
the intense sensations of body and soul could not be denied and I knew we 
would ultimately soar to the stars and eternity together. When the knowledge 
was sure in me, I pulled him even tighter by wrapping my legs more closely 
about him and whispering in his ear ... "Daddy ... Daddy . Daddy ... " 

At that very moment, just before orgasm, the door of the room opened with a 
crash and I turned to see the apartment house manager and another man 
standing there right in our bedroom! 

I Finally, I could no longer deny the knowledge that had only nibbled at my 
brain before. Now there was no avoiding the fact that we had been caught in 
our tabooed love! We would not and could not escape the garrot of social 
pressure. I was sure now of what I had only suspected before. We would never 
share our bodies again, no matter what. 

Even though we both were shocked by the entrance of the two men, we both 
realized the implications of their intrusion. With a final, passionate 
surge, we grasped each other in total strength and in a wracking internal 
explosion of mind and body let our love crash together and fuse ultimately 
in a final orgasm. 

But we had no time to savor the after joy of our act, for the manager of the 
apartment house took one step to the bed, roughly grabbed Daddy by the 
shoulder and pulled him away from and out of my still steaming body. He 
fairly threw Daddy against the bedroom wall, as he turned to me and curtly 
ordered, "Put something on!" 

I was too stunned to do anything but obey. I slipped into a shift and Daddy 
donned a pair of trousers and a shirt. Then all of us went into the living 
room while the other man used our telephone to call the police. 

 Chapter Fifteen 

The police took us away. I was confined by the juvenile authorities and 
Daddy went to jail. Then there was the trial, and we both knew what the 
outcome would be. 

Perhaps as many people said, my father was no more than a weak and lonely 
man who had succumbed to his carnal desires for my body and had discarded 
what moral standards he might have had. Perhaps I was an unwilling pawn to a 
monstrous act! I had been hypnotized into a degenerate sexual relationship 
that was both unnatural and against all the laws of civilization. During the 
time of the confinement and trial, I hardly knew what to think. I only knew 
that Daddy was going through some terrible ordeal and I wanted to be by his 
side just to hold his hand and reassure him that I still loved him and 
always would. But even that was denied me and when he was finally sentenced, 
my whole world was so shattered and crushed that I remained in a state of 
absolute shock. 

Paradoxically, the law is not equal - where Daddy suffered all the wrath of 
an indignant society, I was allowed to go free although I had to make 
periodic reports to a parole officer. 

I visited Daddy every chance I could, but these times were rare. I had 
little money and no family, so I had to find work. I managed to get a 
secretarial job and to live an isolated life for some time, but always I 
would think of some excuse to get to see the man I loved whenever I could. 

Fate, too, was good to Daddy, even though it was hard. In prison, his spirit 
withered and ultimately after no more than six months, he seemed to 
completely deteriorate. 

Death was merciful. Perhaps wrongly, I let the state bury him in an unmarked 
grave. That final resting place might have eased some of the guilt from his 
mind; I don't know. 

But I was now hopelessly alone. Society says that I had not merely been a 
pawn, I had not been lured into a degenerate act by a monster. I had loved 
with all my heart and soul and body. I am sure that because of the depth and 
intensity of that love I shall never be able to find similar happiness 
again. If it was wrong. 

I don't even care now, for at least I had the joy of knowing it all! Even 
though the proper members of the society have continued to tell me how 
terrible it all was. 

I did go through a time of hopeless and helpless confusion for some months 
after Daddy finally died. I was lost. Even the psychiatric aid the state 
offered was no help at all for it did not center on understanding me or my 
emotions. It was only a final effort on the part of the "ins" to brainwash 
me into believing I had sinned. 

Perhaps that's why I. finally decided to write it like this - to go into the 
details of an impossible love - a love that can never die, because, as the 
old and corny song goes, my heart belongs to Daddy. It always did, I guess, 
and it always will. Oh, I'm not trying to say that I live in absolutely 
celibate isolation. I don't. I did for a while, while I was with the 
juvenile authorities. I spurned the advances of all the dykes down there and 
when I got out and moved to a small apartment, I tried to stay away from 
everyone. 

But sex had become a habit with me and it was one I couldn't break by just 
wishing the urge away. Daddy was no more; my body still craved attention and 
sexual satisfaction. 

For the first time in my life I turned to masturbation almost on a grand 
scale similar to what Sally had performed on herself when she had been 
alive. Often I would masturbate myself several times in a single day: in the 
mornings before I left for work, in the woman's room at the office and twice 
or more in the evenings when I got home. But it wasn't the same. After a 
while my intensity succeeded in irritating my clitoris to the point where 
the act was painful rather than pleasurable. 

Also, I have to admit that I'm the kind of woman who is not left alone by 
men. I'd always had the opportunity for dates. Despite the fact that I was 
pregnant and flaunting myself to the world, the men asked me out. While the 
child was growing within me, I had an easy excuse, but then everything 
seemed to happen at once. 

My time of delivery came near and Daddy died. I had to give the child up for 
adoption even though she was the one thing I really wanted to keep. 

I suppose I knew it would be that way from the moment we were caught. Maybe 
I am really some form of masochist and really take some form of pleasure in 
my own emotional pain. But that last moment with my child - our child - when 
I was allowed to see and hold it, feel the pressure of its tiny body warm 
against my breast, will live with me forever. 

If things had only been different. If only I could have kept our baby to 
have some living proof that it wasn't the sordid cheap affair that everyone 
kept telling me it was. 

I know just thinking about it like this is no good, but I also know that I 
can never really forget. The sadness is with me. It's a part of me for.-I 
was caught in a trap from which I could not even hope to escape. There never 
could have been the slightest hope of keeping the child after we were 
caught, so I had to face the inevitable. The adoption. Maybe, I tell myself, 
it is better this way, for my baby will be around people who really know how 
to love. 

But the emptiness was there nonetheless. I quit my job, sold all the 
furniture and left because it was all around me. I had no idea where I 
intended going or what I would do when I got there. I suppose I hated myself 
more than anyone or anything. 

It was in New York where I finally determined that, if everything I had done 
was called wrong by an uncaring world, I might just as well do something 
really wrong to make them and myself know the real truth. 

I was alone and almost broke and hadn't found a job yet, and I was just 
walking aimlessly along 42nd Street right by the old Times Building. 
Something came over me in a flash and I walked into the life of a prostitute 
as easily as some people bite into a cookie. 

A middle-aged man was standing on the curb apparently eying the street for 
possible cabs. Whether he reminded me of Daddy or not I can't really say, 
but I walked up to him as bold as ever you please and simply said, "Like 
some fun?" 

He glanced down at me, let his eyes run over my breasts and hips and, 
without speaking, hailed a taxi. He opened the door for me and I got in. 
Within minutes I was in an apartment in the east seventies, lying on my back 
in a huge bed as a stranger pumped his sexual part into me. 

I tried to respond, but I couldn't. I lay there thinking it was all somehow 
wrong, but enjoying the wrongness of it and the dirtiness of it. When it was 
over, he handed me a twenty dollar bill and told me to get out. I went 
downtown, bought myself a good dinner and found another fuck. 

It's a wonder I didn't get caught; but I didn't. What finally caught me was 
myself and one day I woke up in bed with a man who had shared my body but 
who knew nothing of me and I calmly decided that if I kept up this way, I 
would kill myself mentally as well as physically. 

As he still slept, I got dressed, left his hotel room and, after stopping 
once at the bank where I had deposited my savings, decided to leave town. I 
didn't even return to my apartment. I wanted to end the disgusting life I 
was leading with a clean amputation. I got a bus for Chicago but didn't like 
the town. I headed south to Dallas, spent some time in Phoenix, and even 
worked as a topless dancer in Las Vegas for a while, but none of it seemed 
right. 

Finally, I came back to Los Angeles and got a job as a secretary with an 
aircraft concern. I decided that, good or bad, that was where I would stay. 
I would not run from life any more. I would not whore. I would try to live 
the life of a normal young woman. 

Of course, the men wouldn't let me. I hadn't been on the job more than a 
week when I got my first invitation to dinner. I turned that one down but 
then, thinking that I had acted the fool, determined that in the future I 
would accept dates instead of spurning them. After all, the dinner and 
entertainment were free and maybe, just maybe, I. might find some man who 
could thrill me as much as Daddy had in those days that seemed centuries 
ago. 

Always the men wanted sex, and on my third date with one of the men who had 
asked me out, I experienced my first legitimate sexual intercourse since the 
good old days of my childhood. 

We had gone to dinner and had had a few drinks and I suppose I had allowed 
the alcohol to warm me more than I should, but by this time, I didn't really 
care. When he asked if he might come in after he took me home, I agreed and 
the first thing I knew, we were in bed. 

He wanted me to take his prick in my mouth, but I didn't want to. I let him 
lick and kiss and fondle me and gained a certain amount of pleasure from his 
touch, but it wasn't really the same. It wasn't what it should have been and 
in time I got sick of his ministrations. Then I simply rolled him on his 
back, straddled him as I had straddled Daddy that first time and moved so 
fast and furiously that he had an almost instant orgasm. Then I told him I 
was tired and wanted to be left alone to sleep. 

He never asked me out on another date and I wasn't sorry. But other men did 
and I got to know one of them pretty well without knowing what his "problem" 
was. He had always been the perfect gentleman with me in everything he did. 
He always opened car doors and behaved like a knight in shining armor until 
I began to suspect the truth. 

For some reason, the poor fellow was partially impotent. Sensing this, I 
became the aggressor and one evening as we were sitting in his apartment I 
reached over and laid my hand on his lap, hoping that my overtness would 
bring him to a state of potency. It didn't. 

We sat there for a while, he staring across the room obviously thinking, and 
I fondling his flaccid organ until he finally turned to me and asked if I 
would like to see some movies. 

At first, I thought he was joking and then it dawned on me what kind of 
movies he was talking about. I sensed that only with the movies could he be 
aroused. Although I was not that interested in seeing them, I certainly saw 
nothing wrong. 

"Sure," I told him. "Why not?" 

Elated by my reply, he rose from the couch, left the room for a moment and 
returned with the projector in one hand and a small screen under the other 
arm. I waited as he set the machinery in place and returned to sit beside me 
before he flicked the switch on the projector. 

After all of the things I had already been through, it may seem strange that 
I had never seen a pornographic movie before, but I hadn't! 

As the couples on the screen writhed in every possible sexual act, singly 
and in couples and trios, I began to feel strangely stimulated. Again I 
reached out to touch him and wasn't really surprised to find that he had 
taken his cock in his own hand and was sitting beside me playing with 
himself as he avidly watched the twisting bodies on the screen in front of 
us. 

"Here," I said, "let me - " 

With that, I removed his hand and leaned over him in such a way as to be 
able to take his cock in my mouth as I watched the action on the screen. I 
was thrilled and delighted as I felt the flesh of his organ harden in my 
mouth and quiver with a power I had no idea it possessed. The thrill of 
that, coupled with the excitement generated by the film, and finally 
intensified by the fact that his own hand had reached behind me, lifted my 
skirt and was playing with my own sexual parts, made me as eager and excited 
as I had been in years. It was the first time since my last coupling with 
Daddy that I felt desire surge through me and I didn't want the moment to 
leave. 

As the movies played on the screen before us, I helped him unbutton his 
shirt and made his task of undressing me that much easier. As the movies 
still continued, he threw me on the couch and without further preamble, 
thrust the hot power of his sex in me with a surge of wild and passionate 
ecstasy. 

We were both watching the action of the actors while our lower bodies 
concentrated on pounding into one another and then, just as the film ended 
and the screen turned a nickering white, I could feel him beginning to come 
within me. I wanted to hold back - to save my love for a memory, but I 
couldn't! I was on the very lip of life's most intense pleasure and I 
couldn't deny my body's right to it. I let the floodgates open and thought I 
would be torn apart by the great sea of passion that roared through me. My 
legs caught his body in a scissor hold and I screamed in sheer ecstasy at 
the intensity of the pleasure I was experiencing - a pleasure of body I 
thought would never be mine again. 

But it was a pleasure of body alone - one of pure animal desire. I was not 
in love and knew I could never be in love again. My love had all been given 
to one mature man when I was but a mere child, and still remains with him in 
his grave somewhere in a cold, damp, dark cemetery. That, I knew, would 
never change. 

But at least I had overcome one barrier. I was again able to experience the 
purely physical pleasure of sex. That was a milestone in itself. 

Since that time with the movies, I have been able to lead a more or less 
normal sex life, certainly not that much different from some of the other 
girls I have met. I can experience orgasm most of the time and I don't need 
to rely on the crutch of pictures. I do need to know that the man is 
terribly excited, that he feels he has to have me. When I sense that kind of 
excitement, I almost think I belong again and my sexual experiences are 
almost complete. 

They will never be totally complete again, however. For they will always 
lack that essential item for total completion - love. 

Maybe we are all born with only a certain capacity for love. The ability to 
give a little of it here, to art or beauty, and a little there, to our 
parents, and some more to our loved ones and children and thus we can spread 
it around. I don't think I was born with any different capacity, but I do 
know that all the love I had went in one direction and has now hopelessly 
gone from me. 

Call it wrong, call it perverted, call it what you like, but I gave all my 
love to Daddy and there is no changing that fact. Perhaps I am neurotic as 
they say because of my inability to feel as others feel, but I wasn't always 
that way! I loved Daddy in all ways. He was beauty, he was my parent, and he 
was also my lover and companion. All my love went out to him when I was so 
young that none can remain now. I simply do not have it to give. 

But my case is not terribly sad. Even I, with this huge hole of eternal 
emptiness in my heart still find time to see how fortunate I really am! For 
even though I cannot feel love now and even though the only man in my life 
has gone forever - yes, even though my only child is somewhere where she and 
I will never meet, I have one thing that can never be taken away from me and 
which will be with me always. 

This is my little shrine to an impossible love! My little private room of 
thought where the world's criticisms are never heard. There is no time for 
agony. These are the golden fields of eternal sunshine that can never be 
blackened for me. 

With all I lack, and with all I have suffered and may even suffer tomorrow, 
I still have my memories. And no matter what society or psychiatry says, 
they are things of joy and beauty for me. For me, incest was something 
wonderful and I shall always love my daddy. 


THE END
