SIS-108  Her Eager Brother
[aka 'My Sister My Lover']
(Mark Conroy)


FOREWORD 

When Vladimir Nabokov created his immortal "Lolita", he was formulating the 
prototype of the child-woman, whose blend of candor and ingenuousness has 
through the ages been capable of luring the most mature and sophisticated of 
males to erotic desire. Yet his teenaged heroine was far from being so naive 
about her sexual appeal to Humbert. Humbert as the latter erroneously 
suspected-and, indeed, it was that failure to appreciate the degree of 
intuitive womanhood which she possessed which led to his undoing. 

The totally uninitiated teenaged female, just emerging from puberty, has for 
many adult males the most dangerous allure of all. They imagine themselves 
as her benevolent initiator, and they are attracted by her very innocence 
because it suggests the age-old prize of untouched virginity. For centuries, 
this virtue of maidenhood was esteemed above all else in the female. It is 
only with our current sexual revolution that we have come to learn that it 
is not at all synonymous with reciprocal erotic passion. 

In reality, as modern psychiatrists declare, the desire of a mature, aging 
male for an under-age, nubile, budding female has at base the subconscious 
temptation of incest. From the dawn of time, society has imposed a stringent 
taboo upon relationships between father and daughter, mother and son or any 
other immediate blood kinships. Initially, in the era of primitive man, 
virginity in the young female was allocated as a gift to be bestowed upon 
the warrior-male of a neighboring tribe whose conjugal link with the tribe 
of the girl was sought to bring about peace between both tribes and a 
strengthening of these neighboring groups against common human and predatory 
animal enemies. If her virginity were taken by her own father, she would no 
longer be desirable to the warrior-male. 

Yet, just because propinquity is born out of proximity and because that 
which is taboo becomes all the more tempting, we find increasingly numerous 
instances of incestuous relationships in our present-day society. Nor are 
these limited to ethnic groups or the lower economic classes by any means. 
Dr. Kirstein Weinberg, a nationally known authority on incest, maintains 
that the proportion of such illicit unions may actually be greater among the 
well to do and the better educated classes, because of the powerful stimuli 
of fantasy and imagination. 

In Mark Conroy's new novel, Kristina, the thirteen-year-old heroine, arrives 
at the dawn of her adolescence totally ignorant of sexual knowledge or 
awareness. Her vague yearnings, she innocently believes, are attributable to 
"growing-up pains." On the day of her birthday, out of the seemingly 
innocuous ritual of "birthday spanks", both she and her father are 
transformed out of their inevitable roles to make him her initiator and 
lover. Thereafter, as her brother and uncle discover the subtle alteration 
of her young psyche, she becomes a true Lolita, childishly aware of her own 
powers, even eager to test them in the deliciously exciting game of 
pretending to be grownup. 

Since her father and mother have been separated, Kristina becomes the 
wife-substitute symbol for her father, not unlike the Biblical precedent of 
Lot and his daughters. And when at last her father falls in love with an 
adult female and ultimately marries her, Kristina makes the discovery of her 
own initial jealousy as a love-rival, impatiently awaits her own maturity to 
lead a life now enlightened by what she has learned through almost 
accidental experience. 

The story of Kristina is not at all unique. From it, we may learn that it is 
sensible as well as advisable to acquaint under-age males and females with a 
sound sexual education that will stand them in good stead in later life to 
banish the inhibitions of fear, guilt and shame. 

-The Publisher 

 CHAPTER ONE 

Kristina Ainsley sighed unhappily as she looked out of her bedroom window to 
see the poplar trees along the pleasant, quiet residential blocks of Morse 
Avenue bending before the gusts of a rainy April wind. It was Friday, her 
thirteenth birthday, and even the mysterious package which a uniformed 
delivery man had just brought to the house with her name on it failed to 
cheer her up. 

The package, she knew, was from Mother. Six months ago Daddy and Mother had 
had some sort of quarrel. They had told her and her fifteen-year-old 
brown-haired, wiry brother Donald that sometimes grown people had 
differences and decided to go their own separate ways. 

She'd always been close to her blonde, tall, soft-spoken mother, much closer 
than Donald. It still puzzled her that in spite of their being such friends, 
Mother hadn't even given her a hint as to why she and Daddy were breaking 
up. All she'd said, when she'd come to Kristina's room that awful Saturday 
morning, was, "Now you be a good girl, honey, and mind your daddy, hear? 
I'll write you and I'll send you presents. Now give me a nice hug and a 
kiss." 

And even though she'd been crying, Mother had pretended not to notice and 
had just whispered, "Now that's no way to carry on, darling. It's not the 
end of the world, really it isn't. And now I've got to catch my plane, so 
you behave yourself." 

Since then, there'd been only a few letters, and now this package. Daddy 
never talked about Mother anymore, either. The week after she'd left, he'd 
hired a nice old German widow to keep house and cook the meals. Kristina 
liked old Mrs. Weidman, but of course it wasn't the same thing as having 
your mother. 

Tonight, Kristina knew, there'd be a special birthday dinner, with roast 
chicken and brown betty, her very special favorites. But she still felt lost 
without Mother. There were things a girl could talk about, real private 
things, with one's mother that you couldn't somehow bring yourself to 
mention to a father. like why she was so restless at night lately and could 
hardly fall asleep. There were dreams too, about going out on dates with 
boys who would try to kiss her, and she'd wake up feeling flushed and 
feverish, with the funniest tickling along the insides of her legs. 

She turned back at last to the package on the bed. She was tall for her age, 
five feet five and a half inches. Her face was heartshaped with large, 
closely spaced dark-blue eyes, dainty little turned-up nose, and a full, 
generous mouth. Her honey-gold hair was braided into two thick pigtails, but 
she was thinking of changing that because Donald was forever yanking at them 
and teasing her. Most of the time she wore jeans and blouse. She liked 
playing softball with the boys. Just the other day daddy had called her his 
little tomboy. Maybe that was what she wanted, now that Mother was gone. She 
knew Daddy liked her brother the best, and perhaps one reason she had 
started wearing jeans and playing ball was to be closer to him. It was 
awfully lonely being an outsider now. 

It was a department store box, but there was a card inside from Mother, 
lying on top of the tissue-wrapped gift. She opened the envelope and read 
it, but there wasn't any address to show where Mother was living now. All it 
said was, "To my big girl on her birthday, wear these now you, you'll grow 
up to be a beautiful woman." 

Wonderingly, she unwrapped the package, saw it was several gifts: a pretty 
sky-blue cotton frock with modishly short skirt, a monogrammed white nylon 
petticoat, a pair of matching white nylon bras and panties, and two pairs of 
beige nylon hose with a white satin-elastic garter belt. Her eyes widened 
with sudden excitement; she'd never had such lovely, grownup things to wear 
before. Up to now, she'd worn a training bra-halter, a clumsy, unattractive 
thing she hated. 

Glancing up at the door, she suddenly ran to it and turned the key in the 
lock. Lately, Donald had been teasing her about her pigtails and playing 
with boys and wearing boy's clothes. He had a disconcerting habit of walking 
in on her even when she had the door closed. And this was certainly one time 
she didn't want him to do that. 

Quickly, she unbuttoned her blouse, tugged it off, then unfastened the 
skintight jeans and began to pull them down, wriggling her hips to 
facilitate their descent. She had no way of knowing that there was a jagged 
crack in the plaster on the wall directly across from her bed and that at 
this very moment Donald Ainsley was crouching against his own bedroom wall, 
his right eye screwed tightly up against the peephole which he himself had 
carefully bored with a drill a few months ago as a lark. The fact was, 
precociously sex-minded Donald had become very much aware of his young 
sister's blossoming out. Several times he'd seen her in the halter and 
panties, but never naked. This afternoon, his patient vigilance was about to 
be rewarded. As her jeans fucked down to her knees, he stealthily unzipped 
the fly of his new dacron slacks and liberated his long, bony, plum-headed 
prick. It was already in savage erection and he began cuddling the angrily 
reddened bulbous head in his left palm as he balanced himself with his right 
hand clamped against the wall, quivering with hungry anticipation. 

As Kristina stooped to scuff off her pedal pushers and then yank off the 
jeans, her young round tits jutted boldly and tautly against the halter, 
which shaped out the budding points of her virgin nipples. Donald Ainsley 
sucked in his breath and tightened his fingers around the throbbing glans of 
his rigid prick. All his attention was focused on the round little hole 
which furnished such an exciting revelation, praying she wouldn't move out 
of range. 

She didn't. Thoughtfully, slowly, she reached behind her to unfasten the 
halter, shrugged pink dimpled shoulders out of the straps and tossed it onto 
the bed. The movement made her perky round apple-like tits jiggle 
fascinatingly and drew another suppressed gasp of excitement from her avid 
brother. Now, for a moment, Kristina contemplated herself, blushing 
adorably. Her soft slim hands hesitantly touching the rounds of her swelling 
tits she peered quizzically down at them, narcissistically admiring herself. 

Then, quickly, thrusting her forefingers under the waistband of the little 
panties, she snugged them down and let them drop to her ankles, stepped out 
of them and was naked but for socks. Kneeling down on her left knee, she 
doffed the right sock and then shifted to the other knee. At last she rose 
deliciously pink-naked. Her cuntal lips were delicately formed, softly 
pouting over the secretive vulva, and only a few sparse, silky 
light-brownish hairs fleeced her virgin cunt. 

"Ohh, Jeez," Donald Ainsley muttered to himself, his left forefinger 
beginning to rub the taut, velvety glans of his aching prick as he squinted 
at his sister's tempting virgin cunt. "Is she ever built for it!" 

He was not only seeing Kristina naked for the first time, but also viewing 
her with the air of a connoisseur of cunt. Last Saturday afternoon, he had 
gloriously graduated from secret jacking-off to dream-fantasies in favor of 
a real bare-skin fucking. like most boys his age who enjoy bragging about 
their sexual abilities, Donald has boasted of his varied experiences, all of 
which were, of course, in his mind and his right hand. To his consternation, 
Cy Edwards, his best friend at Selmar High, had proposed, "I'll bet you're 
not good enough to make June Tomlinson cum." And when he had swaggeringly 
assured his friend he could satisfy any girl, Cy had taken the wind out of 
his sails by nonchalantly proposing, "Okay, Don, I'll just call your bluff. 
I've got a date Saturday afternoon with June in her basement-you wanna come 
along and fuck her? She can't get enough, so she'll put out for you too if I 
tell her you're my buddy." 

Not without misgivings, Donald Ainsley had glibly told his father he was 
going to play Softball with Cy, and had joined his crony in the basement of 
June's three-story apartment building on Olive Street. June, a plump, 
bespectacled, somewhat bovine 16-year-old, had gigglingly led the boys to an 
unoccupied storeroom at the far back of the basement, assuring them that 
none of the tenants ever came back that far. Then, whisking off her pink 
cotton dress and white cotton slip, she had stood for a prick-hardening 
minute under the glaring light of a single 100-watt bulb in a ceiling 
fixture, clad in only yellow ankle socks and loafers and a pink cotton bra 
which strained against the ripe closely set gourds of her lush young tits, 
wantonly letting both goggle-eyed boys see the wide shallow dimple of her 
bellybutton and the thick dark-brown curls of a luxuriant cuntal fleece 
which completely hid the fleshy pink lips of her lasciviously eager cunt, 
before reaching up to yank the cord and plunge the basement into total, 
mysterious and exciting darkness. 

Donald Ainsley had had just time enough to see his lanky, black-haired 
friend drop his trousers and follow the giggling brunette to the far back of 
the storeroom where a discarded mattress conveniently awaited. Then, 
standing in the darkness, he had been spellbound by the salacious sounds of 
threshing, sucking, kissing, whimpering and moaning which ensued. All too 
soon, Cy had emerged, panting, and muttered, "G'wan, Don, she wants to try 
you out. I'm tellin' you, man, she's got a pussy that can't ever get 
enough." When he had hesitated, suddenly remembering that this forbidden 
pleasure might have dire consequences, Cy had urged, "Hell, you don't hafta 
wear a safe or anything. June's on the pill, dummy-hey, I thought you were a 
real cocksman." 

"Aw, shut up 'n watch," he'd grumbled, glad that the darkness hid his 
embarrassed blushes. Then, groping in the darkness on his hands and knees, 
he'd straightened, opening his fly and freeing his already swollen prick 
just as June's soft hand had reached out and touched it. "Oh, my, you're 
bigger'n Cy, honey," she'd giggled, and that commendation had saved the day 
for Donald Ainsley. As he crawled between her straddled plump, pale 
milky-skinned thighs, the clutch of her soft fingers, against his aching 
shaft had strengthened as well as guided him to the juicy, hot sheath of her 
ardent young cunt. Sinking down and burying himself to the hilt, he had 
groaned as her legs agilely swung over his and her arms locked around his 
shoulders. Her small ripe wet mouth was pressing feverishly to his as she 
had gasped, "Ooooh, that's so good, Don lover! My pussy needs lots'n lots of 
screwin', oh give it to my pussy good now, I'm so hot I just hafta cum!" 

Intuitively, he had raised and lowered himself on the teenaged nymph, 
quickening his pace as her arms and legs augmented their fierce enclaspment. 
Her mouth was fused to his, and she had thrust her tongue furiously between 
his lips, rubbing it against his own till the aching torment of his prick 
had become a veritable frenzy. Happily for his own ego, Cy's hasty but 
vigorous fucking of the wanton young brunette had drawn her close to orgasm, 
so that when at last, unable to hold back the bubbling torrent of fiery 
jism, Donald had uttered a sobbing cry of indescribable ecstasy and felt 
himself explode deep in her constricting cuntal sheath, June herself was 
more than ready. With a shrill shriek of rapture, the almost naked young 
nymph had rolled him over and over, grinding her cunt to him to absorb the 
last delving inch of his throbbing spear. And at last, moaning with 
appeasement, she had panted, "Oh golly, that was the best fuck I ever had, 
Don honey, oh my, did you ever make me cum!" 

Cy had gone back for seconds, but he had wisely refrained. Her accolade, he 
wisely divined, had elevated his stature in both her and Cy's eyes, and a 
poorer performance the second time around could only have detracted from the 
laurel he had won as a cocksmith on this memorable Saturday afternoon. 
Indeed, on the way back to the school recreation yard for a game of 
softball, Cy had admiringly shaken his head and mumbled, "Boy, you sure were 
good! June's always gripin' she can't get enough, but you really screwed 
her, man!" 

As Kristina moved to the bed to try on her new birthday finery, her brother 
shuddered with an overpowering lust. Where only a momentary glimpse of plump 
naked June had fired him to achieve his first fuck, now he had ample time to 
detail his burgeoning young sister's tantalizing naked charms. His gaze 
fixed on the shallow wide dimple of her navel, then the suave curve of the 
lower abdomen which led to her almost bare pink, surprisingly fleshy cuntal 
lips. While the labia majora were deliciously plump, the secretive petals of 
her virgin vulva seemed delicate, furtively closed against any male 
invasion. At the apex of her cunt, he could make out the diminutive nodule 
of her clitoris. He gulped, his face hotly flushed, and he began to milk his 
prick with left thumb and forefinger, fantasizing what it would be like 
right now to shove his aching cock between those dainty soft pink lips and 
gouge his way along the tight, warm unprofaned chasm of her tender cuntal 
sheath. 

Kristina, of course blithely unaware of being spied on, reached for the 
garter belt and tentatively tried it on. Adjusting it and tightening it, she 
giggled at the sight of the tabs dangling down her lithe pink thighs. Then, 
her face sobering delightfully, she selected one of the pairs of sheer beige 
nylons, seated herself on a little footstool near the bed, and began to draw 
one of the filmy sheaths on. Her mother had accurately remembered her 
dimensions. The stockings were snug, just right. 

She beamed as she applied the tabs to the top of the nylon welts, very proud 
of herself. And it was true: already she had begun to look like a woman, 
with such a imagine, decorative stocking support fixed around her slim 
waist. Ingenuously, but with an unerring feminine instinct, she had 
stretched out each lovely leg in turn to draw on the nylon stocking. Her 
brother, by this time, was almost unable to hold back the burning load of 
jism which strained along his aching, bulging prick. He had to pinch his 
shaft with two fingers to suppress it. 

Next Kristina put on the petticoat, turning to the mirror on the dresser to 
see herself. She was enchanting in this half-nudity. The white nylon fabric 
shaped out her loins and thighs and her lovely pink-sheened breasts were 
proudly bared and jiggling as she turned this way and that, admiring 
herself. Satisfied that the garment fitted perfectly, she removed it, went 
back to the bed and drew the white nylon panties up over her lush young 
hips. They were extremely snug, molding out the jouncy rounds of her bottom 
and even more lasciviously clinging over the well developed mound of her 
virgin cunt. 

Donald Ainsley could not restrain himself any longer. Again with two 
fingers, he hastened the milking maneuver along his bulging prick, and, 
tilting his contorted face up to the ceiling, clapped his right hand over 
his glans to catch the torrential jet of viscous jism as he shuddered and 
swayed in the throes of ferocious cum. 

Her eyes sparkling with pleasure at the feel and fit of the lovely grownup 
clothes her mother had sent her, Kristina swiftly donned the bra. She found 
it snug and decorative as well. Putting on the blue frock, she finally 
seated herself on the footstool and tried on the chic white high heeled 
pumps which had been included in the birthday package. Rising, she walked 
carefully, glancing down at the gleaming pumps with a look of coquettish 
wonder on her charmingly pretty face, then stood rapt with delight before 
her mirror. 

Oh golly, don't I ever look grown-up now-just like a woman, Mother said! I 
wonder what Daddy and Don will say when they see me all dressed up like 
this? I'll bet Don won't tease me and treat me like a baby girl any more 
when he sees how old I look! But I wish Mother were here right now to see 
me, so I could thank her and hug her and kiss her-I sort of feel so alone 
now she's gone. And Daddy never talks about her, either. Gosh, I wonder why 
they didn't get along. 

She turned to one side, admiring herself, then frowned. Oh gosh, I forgot 
all about my darned old pigtails. Well, it's almost time for supper, so I 
guess they'll have to stay the way they are. But tomorrow, first thing, I'm 
going to comb them out. Gosh, I-I feel so grownup, I want to look that way 
all over, too! 

 CHAPTER TWO 

"That'll be all for today, Miss Henshaw," David Ainsley nodded to his prim, 
svelte, tall, bespectacled black-haired secretary. He reached for a 
cigarette, then leaned back in his swivel chair as he heard his private 
office door close behind him. He was looking forward to Kristina's birthday 
dinner tonight, almost as a desperately needed distraction from the 
frustrations and denials which had been building up in him the past six 
months. 

Six feet tall, wiry, with almost crew-cut dark-brown hair, he hardly looked 
his 43 years, but this afternoon he'd begun to feel them. If only Helga had 
played fair with him, he morosely thought to himself as he puffed angrily at 
the cigarette. After seventeen years of marriage and two kids, she'd 
suddenly taken it into her head-or rather, into her cunt-to go traipsing off 
with a 28-year-old garage mechanic. She was even going to marry the guy as 
soon as the final divorce decree was issued, which ought to be any day now. 
And the only explanation she'd given him was that she was bored from the 
lack of excitement in their going to bed together and that Jirka-that was 
her lover's name-knew how to domineer a woman and make her feel all woman. 
What a hell of a note that was-to say nothing of what it had done to his 
cocksmith's pride. 

David Ainsley was the director of a media research firm which did business 
with the big ad agencies. They wanted to know what TV shows, radio programs 
and newspapers and magazines could guarantee their clients the best sales 
results for moneys expended. He'd started as a junior copy-writer out of 
journalism school, worked his way up to account executive and then 
discovered he liked research better than the daily hassle with grumpy 
clients who thought they could write better ads than he did. He'd met Helga 
Berndtsson at a cocktail party thrown by his agency. She'd come there as the 
distantly related cousin of one of the artists on his agency's staff, and it 
had been love at first sight. Tall, willowy, with golden hair almost down to 
her waist, she'd been a kind of Nordic goddess who'd awakened all his 
romantic lusts. Maybe that had been the trouble, treating her reverently 
like a goddess rather than as a hot-pussied floozie who wanted rough 
fucking, which apparently was what Jirka had been giving her. 

An only child and strictly brought up, David Ainsley had had very little 
erotic experience prior to his marriage. A few necking parties with a senior 
coed who had turned out to be a genuine prickteaser, then the quickie and 
not too thrilling loss of his male virginity to a plump coppery-haired young 
waitress from the coffee shop across the street from his ad agency late one 
night when he'd been working overtime on a deadline full-page newspaper ad 
for a new deodorant, and then Helga. In the seventeen years of their 
marriage, he'd been unbelievably faithful. After all, his golden-haired wife 
had been exactly the type of bed partner he'd always dreamed of as a 
thwarted, tortured adolescent. With her silky long blonde hair, pale 
carnation-tinted skin, full breasts and thighs and buttocks and a gentle 
sweetness to her face she was ideal. Yet, in spite of his adoring her, it 
hadn't been enough. 

Now he'd lost her for good, but with that thought came the knowledge that he 
was free. He could have an affair, or remarry, or do whatever he wanted to, 
within reason. Briefly, his mind dwelt on Rita Henshaw, whom he'd hired just 
about the time Helga had split. She had a kind of subtle boldness to her, a 
slinkiness that suggested hot fucking. But long ago he'd decided to rule out 
any liaisons with females working at the same place he did. It was too 
risky, and besides, once you slept with a file clerk or secretary, she 
figured she had it made and didn't have to worry about doing her job. No, 
Rita Henshaw was hors de concours for that reason alone. 

He might have revised his thinking if he could have known that Rita Henshaw, 
24 and on the rebound from being jilted by a muscle-bound gymnasium 
instructor from a South Side high school, entertained secret fantasies in 
which she saw herself the helpless, but very willing captive of her 
handsome, mature soft-spoken boss. As a freshman at college, Rita had been a 
sorority pledge bound to a dominating "Big Sister" who had introduced her to 
the paddle and the dildo. Breaking away from lesbian supremacy in her 
sophomore year, she had purposely seduced her assistant English professor if 
only to prove that she preferred being fucked by an honest-to-goodness male 
instead of a simulacrum wielded by a butch dyke. But that first sadistic 
experience had left its indelible mark on her passionate psyche, and what 
she really craved was a combination of virile cocksmith and tyrannical 
master who would force her to lose all her inhibitions and to perform the 
most self-demeaning acts upon him. A few subsequent affairs had convinced 
her that she was a man's woman, but that the men who had thus far fucked her 
had lacked that mastery which she so masochistically craved. So she had 
transferred her burning frustrations to her unsuspecting boss, David 
Ainsley, with even more ardor now that her latest lover had proved to be a 
rather impotent dud. 

His work done at last, he opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a 
tissue-wrapped box from Peacock's, Kristina's birthday present. It was an 
attractive Swiss ladies' watch. Of course, he'd have to suggest she not wear 
it when she played ball with the boys. And that was another problem Helga 
had saddled him with: having to teach Kristina the difference between being 
a tomboy and a young lady who shouldn't get quite so familiar with the 
opposite sex till she was old enough to control her own emotions. He and 
Kristina had never talked about sex. He'd always assumed Helga had taught 
the girl the rudiments of the differences between boys and girls. But from 
some of the broad hints old Mrs. Weidman had dropped earlier this week, 
Kristina would be having her first period any time now, and she certainly 
ought to be prepared for it so she wouldn't get hysterical when it happened. 
Maybe he ought to let the old housekeeper have a talk with her. He'd 
certainly be embarrassed to have to discuss such a thing with the girl. 

With a sigh, he walked out of his office, just in time to see Rita Henshaw 
standing with her back to him, her right leg posed on the seat of her chair, 
her dark-brown skirt lofted almost to her crotch, inspecting a run in her 
charcoal-brown nylon hose. He couldn't help seeing what a luscious long, yet 
curvaceous thigh she had and a high-set, sinuous, calf whose muscles flexed 
entrancingly. He felt a sudden aching twinge in his balls, and forced 
himself to look away as he bade her good night and wished her a pleasant 
weekend. As the outer door closed behind him, he heard her husky, "Same to 
you, Mr. Ainsley." What he didn't see, of course, was her staring forlornly 
after him, then slipping her right hand up to her white nylon panty briefs 
and, closing her eyes and shivering, beginning to tickle her cunt with her 
forefinger as she conjured up images of his dragging her by the wrist off to 
bed and ordering her to strip naked and be quick about it. 

David Ainsley had done a double-take at the dinner table when Kristina, 
blushing prettily and with eyes demurely lowered, had slipped into her chair 
with a whispered, "Hi, Daddy." Her brother, slyly remembering her incredible 
transition from tomboy to sexy young siren-and a naked one at that-had 
vented his admiration for her new look with a loud wolf-whistle. 

"Well now, small fry, I don't recall buying you that outfit," her father had 
said when he'd recovered from the startling revelation of how his daughter 
had unexpectedly become an alluring young Lolita capable of reminding him 
painfully of his enforced continence the past six months. 

"It-it's from Mother. The delivery man brought it this afternoon, just after 
I got home from school, Daddy," she quavered, nervously glancing up at him, 
half-afraid to mention that word which was so rarely used in this household 
these days. 

"Oh, I see. That was nice of her," David Ainsley pursed his lips, then 
brightened as he reached into his lapel pocket to take out her watch. "Well, 
mine's something to wear too, honey, though it's certainly not so 
attractive. And I think you ought to save it for when you go out, like to 
the restaurant or a movie. You know." 

Kristina hastily unwrapped the little box, opened it, then beamed with joy. 
"Oh, it's lovely, Daddy. Thank you ever so much! It's a super watch, and 
I'll be awfully careful with it, I promise. Thank you again." 

"You're quite welcome. Ah, Mrs. Weidman, I see you've made her favorite 
brown betty and-what's this, a little birthday cake too, with thirteen 
candles? Well now, that was very thoughtful of you," he chuckled as the 
plump gray-haired housekeeper carefully set the little round white-frosted 
cake in front of the excited blonde teenager. 

"Betcha she can't blow all the candles out on the first puff, Dad," Donald 
slyly volunteered, his eyes fixing on his younger sister's delightfully 
swelling round firm tits which the bodice of her birthday dress so snugly 
emphasized. 

"I bet I can, too," Kristina irritatedly retorted, with an angry glance at 
her smirking brother. 

"Okay, Kris, I'll betcha double birthday spanks you can't, how's that?" 
Donald Ainsley proffered with a jeering little snigger as he looked to his 
father for approbation. 

"That's right, that's the tradition, Kristina," the latter chuckled 
good-naturedly. "A spank for every year of your age and one to grow on." 

"Oh no!" the pretty blonde teenager breathed, furiously embarrassed. "I've 
never been spanked, you know that, Daddy!" 

Then, as if to eliminate the threatened danger, she sucked in her breath, 
leaned forward and blew with all her might. Twelve of the candles flickered 
out, with tiny wisps of smoke rising, but the fateful thirteenth, though 
wavering and bending towards the level of the cake, remained steadfastly 
burning. 

"Yahh! You lose, Krissie, double swats," her brother gleefully exclaimed. 

"No, I didn't bet with you, so it doesn't count-does it, Daddy?" Tears of 
mortification glistened in the pretty teenager's widened dark-blue eyes. 

"Technically, you're right, honey. Tell you what, I'll give you your 
birthday spanks myself-but it'll be private between us. That lets you out, 
Don," her father indulgently decreed. 

"Aw, lemme watch you paddle Krissie, huh, Dad?" Donald avidly begged, and 
Kristina again turned imploring, humid eyes towards her handsome father. 

"I said no, Don, and that's enough of that. Now, honey, are you going to let 
me have a piece of your birthday cake?" 

"Oh, sure, Daddy-a nice big piece," she gratefully breathed. 

But her brother, though discomfited by his father's refusal, maliciously 
persisted, " 'Course, Dad, you oughta give her, her birthday spanks on the 
bare so she'll really feel 'em!" 

"Ohh-you-you hateful boy you!" Kristina was close to tears. 

"I don't want to hear another word on the subject, young man," his father 
said sharply, and Donald quailed before his angry look. 

They had stayed up to watch a movie on TV till ten o'clock, and then David 
Ainsley had said goodnight to his brash young son, who was obviously 
reluctant to leave the living room, still hoping he might be privileged to 
watch his pretty blonde sister's birthday spanking. But when the mature 
grass widower had irritatedly remarked that there might be someone else 
spanked if he didn't follow orders, Donald hastily excused himself and 
hurried to his room. 

Kristina squirmed uneasily in her chair, eyeing her father with no little 
embarrassment. Gee, I never have been spanked-is he really going to do it or 
is he just teasing me, the way Don does? I'm sure he won 't do it hard, 
'cause I've been a good girl, my school grades are fine, and even Mrs. 
Weidman says I help with the chores. Oh my, I'd just die if Daddy did what 
Don said-g-give it to me on the buh-buh-bare! 

David Ainsley glanced at his wristwatch, rose with a congenial smile. "Time 
for bed, honey. You want to get your beauty sleep. Maybe tomorrow night 
we'll all take in a movie, if you like." 

"T-that would be nice, D-Daddy," Kristina stammered as she meekly rose. 

"Then that's what we'll do. Okay now, you get ready for bed, and I'll come 
in and kiss my big girl goodnight," he told her as he lit a cigarette. "You 
look very grownup and lovely in that getup. It was thoughtful of your mother 
to send it to you." 

"Y-yes. D-Daddy?" she glanced nervously at him, then looked down at the 
floor, flushing hotly. 

"What is it, honey?" 

"Is-is Mother ever coming back?" she dared, in a tiny, fearful voice. 

He frowned, puffed at his cigarette. "Not to stay for good, no, honey. I'm 
sorry. But I'm sure she'll come visit you every so often. Now you'd better 
get to bed." 

"All-all right, Daddy. I-I'm sorry if I said something I shouldn't have." 
Out of both contrition and a forlorn need to be reassured and loved, she ran 
over to him, put her arms round him and hugged him, then tilted her face up 
for his kiss. His hands grasped her waist, and the startling resilience and 
suppleness of her burgeoning young body sent a sudden, unexpected shiver of 
lust through him, made him scowl at the awareness of that forbidden 
reaction. He kissed her on the forehead. "Now run along, honey," he said 
gruffly, trying to cover up the emotion she had roused. It had been much too 
long to have gone without feeling his prick dig to the hilt in a warm tight 
arden cunt, he irritatedly told himself. 

After she had left the living room, he lit another cigarette and noticed 
that his fingers were trembling. He swore under his breath, angry with Helga 
for having walked out on him to leave him so unnerved. If she'd only come 
out and told him what she really wanted in bed, things could have been 
different. As it was, if this kept up, he'd have to go find himself a call 
girl, just to make sure he was still virile and capable. Damn Helga anyway! 

As he crushed out the cigarette, David Ainsley felt himself powerfully drawn 
to Kristina and that silly birthday ritual. Baffled at his own furious 
carnal response to the girl's hugging him, he rose slowly from his chair, 
glancing down to find his prick in agonizedly full erection. This was 
crazy-what was the matter with him, anyway, thinking of a thirteen-year-old 
girl as if she were an available piece of tail? He'd go give her, her 
birthday spanks, just to prove to himself that he had complete control, the 
way a rational adult should have. 

Meanwhile, in her bedroom, Kristina had slowly and thoughtfully taken off 
the pretty blue frock and the glossy petticoat, standing in bra and panties, 
garter belt, hose and pumps, her back turned to the door. 

Clenching her thighs together as tightly as she could, the distracted blonde 
teenager thrust her hands behind her, trying to push his face away, gasping 
faintly, "Nno-you-you mustn't do that, D-Daddy! Puh-please, no!" But by this 
time the lure of Kristina's satiny, palpitating flesh, warm and crimsoned 
from the spanking, the scent of her delicate femininity, the pentup agony of 
his long fuckless nights, had pushed her father over the edge of 
rationality. Keeping her pinned down with his left arm, he now thrust out 
his tongue and lingeringly rubbed it over her contracting, quivering bare 
butt cheeks. 

"Oooh-w-what are you d-doing to me-oh it tickles so-Daddy-no-puh-please pull 
my p-panties back up-oh, don't-" she tremulously begged. 

Suddenly, he rolled her over onto her back, and the frantic young girl tried 
to clap both hands over the pink, temptingly fleshy lips of her virgin cunt. 
The tangled panties round her slim ankles acted like a fetter, partly 
immobilizing her. Now, his eyes blazing, David Ainsley grasped her ankles in 
both hands, bowed his head, and applied a passionate, wet kiss on the very 
center of her soft twitching cuntal lips. 

Daddy's kissing my little spot-ohhh, I never dreamed he'd do a thing like 
that-oh, I'm going to faint-the tickling's driving me just crazy-my bottom 
stings and smarts from where he spanked me, and now-ohh, I feel so strange, 
it doesn't hurt, I can feel my hips jerking, as if-ohh no, it can't-as if I 
was trying to push-to push my spot right up to him to kiss it more and make 
it well! Ohhhh- 

"Sweet little Krissie, don't be frightened, darling, I'm just kissing your 
darling little pussy to apologize for spanking your lovely bottom," David 
Ainsley gasped. He was beside himself as his eyes feasted on the delicious 
miracle of his young daughter's near nakedness, at the wet, twitching, 
pouting cuntal lips framed by the sparse dark-golden curls that so lightly 
fleeced her virgin aperture, at the spasmodic flexions that shiveringly 
rippled along her writhing thighs, at the tumultuous heaving of her firm 
round young tits straining against the sheer nylon bra. 

Face twisted to one side, eyes closed so as to hide this shameful abandon of 
herself, Kristina had pressed her fists hard against her tits, flattening 
their exuberant apple-rounds. "My p-pussy?" she echoed, the word being 
exquisitely new to her, and her cheeks flamed. 

"Yes, darling, your sweet pink little pussy-does it feel nice when I kiss 
it? Does it make you forget the spanking, Krissie?" he hoarsely insisted. 

"Oooh-y-yes, D-Daddy-ahh-but-but you shouldn't-oh, please, I-I shouldn't be 
n-naked like this for-for you to-to see me-ohhhhh, Daddy-" she moaned 
deliriously, writhing convulsively as his tongue flicked over the apex of 
her cunt, brushing the dainty nub of her clit and sending violent sensual 
waves of intoxicating excitement deep into her innermost feminine nerves. 

Now, shifting himself on his knees, he had forced her knees back up against 
her panting young tits, and, whisking off the tangled little panties, bowed 
his head against the gaping, moist, palpitating coral-tinted crevice of her 
distended young cunt. He applied a long sucking kiss, then furled his tongue 
all over the rims of the labia majora, then brushed her clit, then gouged 
the tip of his tongue against the closely set, delicate petals of her maiden 
vulva. 

Beside herself, reeling under the lascivious tumult of her 
first-time-awakened, budding senses, Kristina moaned and sobbed, distraught, 
forgetting the shamefulness and the potent taboo against such surrender to 
her very own father. "Ohh, Daddy-ahh-ohhh it's so exciting when you do that 
with your tongue-ohhh Daddy, I can't stand it, it tickles so-mm-ahh-ohh 
Lordie-ouuuooahhhhh! Oh, something's happening to me-whatever are you doing 
to my p-pussy to make me feel this way-ohh, Daddy-ohh 
Lordie-ahh-ouuu-aiiiiiii!! " Her body leaped and threshed, her hips jerking 
wildly from side to side as David Ainsley, stealthily rubbing his bulging 
crotch with his left hand to quicken his own maddened fulfillment, kept his 
right palm pressed against the upturned back of one nylon-sheathed thigh. He 
quickened the prodding of his tongue all over his daughter's twitching, 
moistening cunt as her feet kicked frantically in the air and her face 
twisted back and forth, contorted with the sweet delirium of her first hot, 
total cum. 

"Jeez!" Donald Ainsley was whispering to himself, dazed by the unleashed 
lust of the scene he had just witnessed, sinking down on his knees, his face 
damp with lust-sweat, his hand stickied with his own violent outpouring in 
tribute to the Lolita-magic of his exquisitely awakened younger sister. 
Dazed though he was, there nonetheless began to burgeon in his inventive 
young mind the inspiration which would enable him not only to force Kristina 
to accord him the same libidinous delights she had just surrendered to her 
own father, but even more erotic gratification to his precociously virile 
young prick. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

There had been a strained silence between David Ainsley and his blonde 
daughter all this Saturday. At the breakfast table, she had blushed and 
looked down at the floor when he had seated himself and thanked the old 
German housekeeper for the piping hot plate of scrambled eggs and bacon and 
the side of dark whole wheat toast, just the way he liked it. Young Donald, 
joining them a few minutes later, had sent his sister a knowing, covert 
glance, but made no comment on the burning secret he had learned last night 
through his improvised peephole. 

That afternoon, finding himself alone for a moment with Kristina, her father 
had awkwardly tried to apologize. "Honey, about last night-I don't know what 
got into me. Shall we forget it ever happened and will you let me apologize 
for embarrassing you so much?" The blonde teenager, a wave of hot red color 
flooding her charming face, had only nodded and gasped, "S-sure, Daddy." 

"Some day, I'll talk to you about your growing up and what you have to know 
about what it'll mean, honey. Now then, are we all set for the movie 
tonight?" 

"Uh huh, I want to go, Daddy," she had stammered. 

Before their supper of Swiss steak, salad and strawberry shortcake, Kristina 
had diligently restyled her honey-gold hair, unraveling the pigtails and 
combing her hair out, then letting it flow free to her shoulders in back, 
and keeping it in place with a little silver barrette. Then again she put on 
the gift outfit her mother had sent yesterday and studied herself in the 
mirror. 

Oh my yes, I do look lots older this way! Grownup enough to have a fellow. I 
wonder if Don has a girlfriend-I hope he treats her nicer than he does me. 
Poor D-Daddy, he looked so unhappy this afternoon-I still don't know why he 
got so mad at me and paddled me on the b-bare-oh, and-and then kissing my 
p-pussy the way he did-but I won't ever tell-I-I know it's not nice-but he's 
my Daddy, he's all I've got now that Mother's gone for good-gosh, I wish she 
were here so I could ask her about last night. It-it scared me so at first, 
and he was starting to hurt when he spanked me-and then-then when he 
k-kissed me ... t-there, I felt so strange, I was all hot and tickly between 
my legs-gosh, I wonder why he wanted to do that to me and why-why I-I even 
liked it? 

They had gone to see "Jaws", and Kristina, seated at her father's left, had 
gripped his hand and squeezed it hard during the battle with the great white 
shark, squirming fitfully in her seat from the terrifying realistic drama. 
David Ainsley couldn't help thinking of the days of his own adolescence, 
when he'd dated girls and taken them to a movie and held hands and done a 
little mild necking. His daughter's stifled little squeals and gasps of 
excitement as the movie reached its powerful climax made him close his eyes 
and think of that plump red-haired waitress, Marian, who had hauled his 
ashes for the first time and taught him how thrilling it could be to thrust 
a hard prick deep into the tight moist soft cuntal sheath of a willing 
female. Damn it, he was getting horny all the time now without Helga. The 
two-timing bitch had really left him high and dry, to the point where he had 
actually gammed his own innocent little girl. He'd have to do something 
about getting Helga's replacement, even on a temporary basis, and damn fast 
before something far worse happened. Kristina was growing up much too fast. 
He glanced carefully towards her, and his eyes widened to notice, close up, 
how very mature she looked with her hair in this new, pretty style. 

Alone in her bedroom, half an hour before midnight, Kristina was pensively 
undressing. She didn't feel sleepy at all. Mostly, it was worry about how 
sad and unhappy Daddy had looked tonight. She could tell he was just 
dreadfully ashamed for what he'd one last night, but she didn't really blame 
him. Things had been so strained and different since Mother had gone away. 
In a way, she wished he'd come in and visit with her right now and maybe 
tell her some of the things a grownup girl ought to know and what was wrong 
and what was right. Not that, up till now, she had thought very much about 
going out with any boy. But maybe, now that she had these cute new clothes 
and had changed her hairdo, she ought to start thinking about not playing 
ball and being just a playtime pal in the neighborhood. 

She had just taken off her petticoat and reached back to unhook her bra, 
standing before her mirror in panties, garter belt, hose and pumps, when the 
door silently opened and Donald slipped in, closing and then locking the 
door behind him. He was wearing just his pajama pants and slippers, and he 
clutched something in his right hand as he stared hungrily at his half-naked 
younger sister. 

Kristina whirled, eyes widening, a hand to her mouth and at once huddled her 
other arm over the delectable pink-sheened apple-firm rounds of her virgin 
tits. "Ohh! Donald Ainsley, you get out of my room, you horrid boy you-right 
this minute, or I'll tell Daddy!" 

He shook his head, grinning nastily. "Uh uh, Krissie, I don't think you'll 
do that." 

"Why not, I'd like to know?" she panted, shrinking back against the 
chiffonier, her face flooded with the blushes of outraged modesty. 

He shrugged. "Oh, 'cause I saw how you and Dad carried on last night. And if 
you tell him I came in here now, I might just ask him why he pulled your 
pants off and then started kissin' that sexy little pussy of yours-he could 
get into awful trouble, doin' a thing like that!" 

"Ohhhhhh!" she was scandalized into speechlessness, staring at him as if he 
were the devil incarnate. 

" 'Course, if you act nice, I won't tell anybody, not even Dad," he slyly 
added with a salacious wink as he moved closer to the quivering, half-nude 
blonde youngster. 

Not sure whether her father was actually going to do what he'd said, the 
ingenuous blonde teenager waited, glancing at her mirror and blushing 
vividly. If it hadn't been for the pigtails, she wouldn't have recognized 
herself in the lithe, provocatively accentuating bra and panty set, 
especially with those diaphanous nylons gracing her long lovely legs and the 
piquant, coquettish tabs of the garter belt clinging against the pink satiny 
smoothness of her thighs, So bemused was she, indeed, that she scarcely 
heard his soft knock at her door. David Ainsley entered and stopped dead in 
his tracks. His eyes widened and the aching, gnawing torment of his prick 
was instantly redoubled as he saw the saucy jutting rounds of Kristina's 
succulent butt snugged out like a sheer second skin by the tight little 
white panties, then the pink flesh of her lithe young thighs flexing and 
quivering, as the rippling tremors of her virgin flesh traveled down her 
nylon-sheathed sinuous, agilely muscled calves. 

She whirled, a hand at her throat, her mouth gaping in furious embarrassment 
to see him standing on the threshold staring fixedly at her. 
"Oh-D-Daddy-Iohhh!" she faintly gasped. 

"It's all right, honey," he uttered an unconvincing chuckle. "Let's get this 
silly business over with, and then you can go to bed." 

"You-you mean-you-you want toto sp-spank me, D-Daddy?" she stammered in a 
tremulous little voice. 

David Ainsley's prick seemed to grow even more agonizedly rigid, and his 
balls ached with the torment of long-endured deprivation as he approached 
the scantily clad youngster. There was a buzzing in his ears. He seemed 
again to hear his wife's withering comment on how boring going to bed with 
him had been. In that instant, it was almost as if Helga herself stood 
before him in the privacy of her boudoir, denying him entry into it as into 
her tight, hot cunt. And so, with a stifled gasp of overwhelming lust, he 
seized his daughter's slim wrist and, moving quickly over to her bed, seated 
himself on the edge as he pulled the startled, incredulous blonde teenager 
over his lap. 

"Oh please-no, d-don't-oh D-Daddy, I-I don't want you to!" she timidly 
protested, twisting her crimsoned face around to him, her long, 
nylon-sheathed legs sporadically kicking in the air as she tried to wriggle 
free. 

The glossy sheen of her bare thighs above the gossamer nylons, the 
squirmings and contractions of her jouncy, panty-snugged behind, the 
delicious aura of feminine helplessness at bay, all combined to drive David 
Ainsley over the brink of propriety. His left arm curving round her slim 
waist, he ignored Kristina's now wistfully sobbing pleas as his eyes fixed 
on the impudently upreared globes of her well developed bottom. He pressed 
his right palm over the huddling cheeks as if to intimate to her that her 
plea for mercy had been rejected. Symbolically, just as Helga had rejected 
him, this became a kind of subconscious, vindictive vengeance born of lust. 

"I'll count them for you, honey," his voice was tight and choked as the 
winsome, half-naked young girl continued to squirm and twist frantically 
over his lap. Tightening his grip round her waist, he raised his right hand 
and brought it down smartly on the very center of her right buttock. "That's 
one." 

Donald Ainsley had gone to his room and got into his pajamas to be ready for 
bed. But, hearing noises from Kristina's adjoining room, he moved towards 
the little peephole in the wall and, holding his breath, stared avidly. He 
was just in time to see his father raise his hand for the second spank, then 
bring it down crisply on the girl's left bottom-cheek and call out, "That 
makes two, honey." 

"Oh boy, I hope he takes her pants down," he muttered to himself, his left 
hand slipping to the fly of his pajama pants and drawing out his stiffening 
prick. 

Oh this is just awful! I feel so ashamed, having Daddy see me undressed like 
this-and if Don ever finds out, he'll just about tease me to death-ouch, 
that hurt! I don't understand why Daddy looks so mad, as if I'd done 
something naughty-when he came in, he was staring at me as if he wanted to 
punish me good and hardooooooooh, that one stung lots! I don't want to cry, 
Don might hear me, but Daddy's so strong, he's holding me down so tight I 
can't get loose-ouch-and now his hand's pressing down on my butt where he 
just sp-spanked-and he's keeping it there- 

Fists clenched, eyes misty with tears, face flaming, the honey-haired 
teenager stoically tightened all her muscles and tried to submit herself 
passively so it would be over the boner. Also, instinctively, she clenched 
her thighs together to try to diminish the immodest display she knew she was 
making of herself. 

"That's five, honey, just eight more and one to grow on," David Ainsley 
declared, his voice curiously hoarsened and taut as his eyes laved the 
quivering, nubile body stretched across his lap. His prick had swollen 
enormously, and by now the reiterated aching torment was almost unbearable. 
And into his mind, too, there had come a sudden, startling recollection. 
Perhaps if he had done this to Helga, but for real, when she'd announced she 
was leaving him, he might have kept her. 

His eye glued to the peephole, his left hand feverishly stroking his 
tautened prick, Kristine's brother followed this incredible scene with 
breathless suspense. He saw how his sister had crossed her slim ankles, and 
how her pretty new pumps were waggling nervously as she abandoned herself to 
this humiliating yet singularly titillating penance. For her father's right 
palm still continued to press down on the crevice between her saucily 
contoured butt cheeks, where it had last fallen, forcing her cuntal mound 
down against his lap till she could not help feeling the unusual 
protuberance which thrust up against the fly of his trousers towards her 
tender virgin cunt. 

Why doesn't he get it over with-oh my gosh, he-he's feeling me up, yes he 
is-now his hand's rubbing over my h-hind end-oh I'm going to faint, I'm so 
embarrassed-and something-something's p-poking me between the legs-every 
time I move, I can feel it rub against my-my s-spot! 

His face flushed, his temples pounding with the sudden swirling lust that 
his brooding memories of Helga and the sight of his budding daughter's 
provocative undress had aroused, David Ainsley lifted his right hand and 
delivered two sonorous smacks, one to the center of each tensing buttock. 
"Six and seven," he announced, his voice noticeably thick with his almost 
uncontrollable passion. Kristina gasped aloud at the sting and salacious 
sound of each harsh slap, and wriggled uneasily across his lap. For her 
sense of security, the posture of being over his lap and stretched out along 
the edge of the bed was relatively comforting, but it was also extremely 
disconcerting to her girlish modesty. For now, even as she shifted herself, 
she felt the unmistakable prodding of her father's rigid prick gouging 
against the soft plump mound of her virgin cunt which was concealed by only 
the thickness of the filmy nylon panties. 

Nervously, she glanced back at him again, biting her lip to see that his 
right palm still lingered on the resilient left summit of her behind where 
it had last fallen. "Ohh g-gosh, Daddy!" she breathed, "this is just 
awful-please get it over with!" 

"Don'tcha do it, Dad, whale her cute ass hard and pull her pants down," 
Donald Ainsley muttered to himself, breathing harshly now as his frigging 
fingers drew his pulsating prick towards the savage ecstasy of hot 
ejaculation. 

David Ainsley's palm moved off his daughter's bottom, brushing down over the 
base to rest for an instant on her naked pink-sheened thigh. The contact was 
electrifying for him. His prick throbbed and jerked convulsively, and he 
blinked his eyes several times as the lewd images of sexual coercion leaped 
into his mind. Tightening his lips, he applied three quick but nonetheless 
briskly sonorous slaps all over the upturned, quivering butt, calling out, 
"Eight, nine and ten, Kristina." 

"Oooh! Oh Daddy, it stings, it really does-please finish it!" she gasped, 
again glancing back at him, her little fists tightly clenched on each side 
of her crimsoned face. 

"Oh come on, youngster," he desperately tried to bring levity into this 
nerve-wracking, prick-hardening scene, "it can't hurt all that much. If I 
really was going to punish you and spank hard, you'd know the difference. 
I'll bet your bottom isn't even red!" 

"Oh it is, I know it is, Daddy," Kristina-ingenuously protested, feverishly 
rubbing her crossed ankles together and glancing back at him. Her nervous 
shiftings over his lap proved to be like a spark struck in dry straw. His 
aching prickhead rubbed vigorously against the plump fig of her virgin cunt, 
and the sensation finally overpowered his already wavering self-control. 

"I'll prove you're wrong, Krissie," he said thickly, and, as his left arm 
increased its pinioning cling round her supple waist, he inserted his right 
hand under the waistband of the filmy panties and gave them a brisk downward 
tug. 

Ohhhh he's pulling my panties down, he can see my bare seat! Oh, I'm so 
ashamed, I just want to die-oh how could Daddy do such an awful thing to 
me-I'm too old to be spanked anyhow, and now-ohhhh, he's pulled them down to 
my ankles, and he's got his big hand right on my b-bare s-seat! Oh I'm going 
to cry in a second, I feel so awful, I don't dare move, 'cause it r-rubs my 
s-spot when I do right over his lap- 

"Gosh! He went and did it!" Donald Ainsley panted to himself. Pinching the 
reddened glans of his tortured prick with left thumb and forefinger, he 
stared incredulously at his sister's squirming, huddling, vividly reddened 
naked ass. 

"Why, it's only a little pink, honey, that's all. Now I'll give you the last 
spanks, and it'll be over," her father announced. Lifting his right hand, he 
dealt her wriggling bare bottom three quick noisy slaps, then, lifting his 
hand again and halting it a moment, descended it right over the sinuous, 
shadowy crevice between her crimsoned butt cheeks. "And one to grow on. 
There, now, it's all over." 

"Oww-ouu-oohh! Ohh D-Daddy, it hurts, it does-oh you were mean to me, I'm so 
ashamed!" Kristina looked round, tears running down her flushed cheeks. 
Actually, the spanking didn't hurt too much, it was true, but her immature 
feminine nerves were frayed by the prolongation of this childish ritual and 
then the shocking, unexpected descent of her last veil of virginal modesty. 
She plunged both hands back to her naked ass, sniffling dolefully, kicking 
up one pumpshod foot, then digging the toe back down into the covers of the 
bed. 

"I'm sorry, kitten, I'll kiss it and make it well," David Ainsley said 
contritely, keeping his left arm clinging round her bare waist. Then, to 
Kristina's utter consternation, he bent his head and pressed his lips along 
the sinuous rosy-ambery groove between her smarting, reddened satiny butt 
cheeks. 

Ooooohhh, he-he's kissing my s seat-it feels so funny, it tickles, I'm 
getting the funniest feeling in my little sp-spot-it's as if I had to go to 
the bathroom and make peepee-my spot's getting wet, and it tickles and I 
can't hold still, I have to wiggle over Daddy's lap-ohh my, I can feel 
something big and hard rubbing right against my s-spot-whatever is it? 

"Wh-what do you mean?" she quavered in a tiny, fearful voice. 

"Don't get scared, I don't wanna give you your birthday swats-Dad did a good 
enough job on that," he snickered. "I just want to cuddle and feel you up 
some, 'n kiss'n pet, see?" 

"Ohh! B-but I'm your own sister! That-that's awful, to think about a thing 
like that!" she breathed, the blushes spreading now to her dainty little 
ears as her arm protectively tightened over her tumultuously heaving tits. 

"You're a square, Krissie! Long as I don't get you in trouble, it won't do 
any harm at all, and you'll sure have lots of fun. Why, Jack Murview over at 
school, he's a junior, and he and his sister even fuck and nobody knows 
about it." 

"F-fuck?" she echoed, her eyes huge and questioning. 

"Yeah!" he murmured huskily. "You mean you don't know what that is, Krissie? 
Hell, I thought for sure Dad was going to do it to you last night when he 
took your pants off and started fooling around. If you'd seen how big his 
cock was, you sure as hell would have figured he'd do it to you, too!" 

"Ohh-you-don't you say nasty things about Daddy-you're just mean, you always 
have been to me, and you know it, Donald Ainsley," Kristina valiantly 
defended her father. 

"Okay, okay," he hastily amended, moving still closer to her and forcing a 
wheedling smile to his smirking face. "I like Dad as much as you do. Only, 
you're so cute'n sexy, I wanna show you how to have some fun. And I know 
what to do, so you won't get into any trouble. Now if you played around with 
some guy at school, you might get a baby or something, see? But you and I 
can have a swell time, and it won't hurt a thing." 

"I-I don't know what you-you want to do to me," she quavered. 

"C'mon, let's lie down on the bed and I'll kiss'n feel you up. You know," he 
bragged, "I already fucked a girl, and she wasn't half as pretty as you are, 
Krissie, that's a fact." 

"Wh-who do you mean?" 

"Oh, old June Tomlinson, that's who. Cy and I, we both fucked her just last 
Saturday, and that's a fact, Krissie. Wanna see what it's like, huh?" 

As she stared incredulously at him, her eyes fell on the stiff projection at 
the fly of his pajama pants, for Donald Ainsley was in ferocious erection by 
now. Intercepting her glance, he looked down at himself, then nodded with a 
leer: "Yeah, betcha I'm as big as Dad is. Wanna have me show you?" 

"Ohhhh! That-that's d-dirty-" her voice was choked and trembling. 

"Aw, c'mon now, what's dirty about it?" he grumbled defensively. "You didn't 
gripe, I noticed, when Dad's cock was big as a tentpole rubbing your cute 
little pussy last night-" 

"You-how-how could you see and know all this, Donald Ainsley?" she suddenly 
gasped, as the belated reaction of recognition slashed through her ingenuous 
mind. 

"There's a crack in the wall, goes through my room and yours, that's how, 
Krissie. I've seen you lots of times peeled down like you are now." 

"Ohh, you-you-" she burst into sudden hysterical tears and struck out at him 
with her free hand. Agilely, he grasped her wrist and pulled her up against 
him, his left arm clamping round her satiny smooth waist, then bent his head 
and kissed her on her left nipple, taking the dainty coral tidbit into his 
mouth and sucking at it. 

"Stop that-I don't want you to-oh, you awful, hateful boy you! You go away 
right now, you hear?" she sobbed, trying to wrest herself free and slapping 
at him. But Donald Ainsley was so feverishly aroused by the feel of his 
sister's naked flesh that all moral scruples had been dispersed. Thrusting 
his right hand's contents into the pocket of his pajama pants, he used both 
hands to grip her wrists and pull her onto the bed. 

"Noo-stop it-let go of me-I'll scream, Daddy'll hear," she gasped as she 
tried to jerk her wrists free and wriggle off the bed. 

Shifting his hold of her wrists to his left hand, delving into his pocket to 
remove the object he had concealed and to shove it under her pillow, Donald 
Ainsley now yanked down his pajama pants, tugged them off and flung them 
onto the floor, and Kristina's eyes fixed on the rigid, taut-skinned 
projection of his furiously swollen young prick. Her mouth gaped in 
stupefaction at what seemed to her to be its enormity and its pulsating 
life, particularly in the throbbing, angrily reddened glans. 

"It-it's so-b-big!" she whispered, awestricken in this her first awareness 
of the male sexual weapon. 

"Sure it is, Krissie, June liked it lots and you will too. Now quit fightin' 
me, I won't hurt you, honest. Just lie back 'n lemme feel you up and kiss 
you, the way I did June. like I said, you're lots cuter than that old bag," 
he wheedled. 

Panting, trembling violently, lying on her back, her apple-firm tits rising 
and falling with erratic rhythm, her honey-gold hair spread out on the 
pillow like a silken mantle, Kristina indeed looked far older than her 
just-reached thirteen years. Crouching on his knees over her, his hands 
still gripping her wrists, he bent down and kissed her other nipple, this 
time flicking the tip of his tongue against the sensitive coral nugget. 

"Oooh-d-don't-please-you-you have to get out of here-if-if baddy heard you 
and came in, I-I'd just die," she pleaded, but in a husky, tremulous whisper 
that already told her precociously oversexed brother that she was not about 
to shriek for help and precipitate a violent domestic scene. 

"He won't, he's asleep-I heard him snoring downstairs before I came in here, 
Krissie. Now, you gonna be a nice girl 'n lemme show you how much fun we can 
have? I promise I won't hurt you, and I'll teach you what it's all about, 
see?" he cajoled. Then again, putting his lips to her left nipple, he sucked 
at it, flicked it with his tongue, and lightly nibbled at it with his teeth. 

Oh this is just awful-whatever am I going to do? I don't want Daddy to know 
awful licking-but if I don't, he says he'll tell Daddy what he saw 
him-us-d-do last night-oh golly, I don't know what to do-and-and he hasn't 
hurt me yet-it felt so funny when he-he put his mouth on my bare bobbies-and 
I can see that great big red thing sticking up between his legs-I never knew 
boys' things were that way-ohhh, now he's kissing my tummy-my own 
brother-what did he shove under my pillow, I wonder-oooh, his-his b-big 
t-thing is shaking and moving every time he moves over me-it's so long and 
hard and red- 

"Now, does that hurt, Krissie?" her brother hoarsely demanded as he raised 
his head to stare at her flushed, contorted face, still pinning both her 
wrists beyond her head. 

"N-no-" she grudgingly admitted, her face flooded with scarlet and her eyes 
averted, "but I don't want you to be here-" 

"Can that crap, Sis," he impatiently broke in, "'less you wanna have me tell 
Dad what I saw you both doing, see? Now if you act nice, I'll show you how 
we can have some real hot fun. And I toldja, I won't hurt you. Well, you 
gonna do what I want or do I tell Dad and maybe the kids at school?" 

Oh this is just terrible! I'd just die if anybody knew what Daddy did to me 
last night! And Donald's so nasty, I know, I just know he'd blab-I guess I 
have to do what he wants, but I'm sort of scared-he acts so fierce and mean 
now-just the way Daddy did when he was sp-spanking me and then-ohhh, 
Donald's thing is getting ever so much bigger-I can't believe it-I didn't 
think he went out with girls yet and I wonder what it was he did with that 
June Tomlinson- 

"Well?" he repeated. "You gonna be nice and lemme show you, or do I tell?" 
I-I guess I better let him-oh that awful boy, to look through a crack in the 
wall and watch me take my clothes off-but if he did that, he must have seen 
Daddy spank and-and kiss me-d-down there-oh Lordie, I better let him do what 
he wants-and-and anyhow, maybe I can find out why Daddy wanted to treat me 
like that- 

"All-all right," she closed her eyes and nodded faintly. "Only, don't h-hurt 
me, Donald. I ... I'm just a girl, and you're older'n I am." 

"Sure, Krissie," he hoarsely acquiesced, "I'll make it real nice for you, 
you'll see. Now lift your butt up so I can slip your pants off." 

"Ohh!" Her eyes opened, very wide and frantic. "Do-do you have to?" 

"Sure I do, Krissie, if I'm gonna fuck you, I hafta get my cock in yer cute 
pussy, see? C'mon, you promised!" he urged. 

Biting her lips, closing her eyes again, the half nude teenager mutely and 
docilely arched up her bottom, and Donald Ainsley, with trembling fingers, 
snugged down the little white nylon panties and drew them off her pumpshod 
feet. Then, almost as an afterthought, he removed the pumps and dropped them 
gently to the floor, leaving his blonde nubile sister in the provocative 
bed-costume of garter belt and nylon hose. 

His eyes at once devoured the soft pink conch-shell of her virgin cunt. 
"Jeez, Krissie, you got the sweetest pussy-honest, it's cuter'n June's," he 
thickly muttered. 

"Did you like what Dad did to you last night, huh, Krissie?" he now 
demanded. Twisting her scarlet face to one side, covering it with a 
trembling hand, the naked young girl gasped, "Oh, pi-please, D-Donald, do 
what you want-and-and don't talk like that-please-" 

"Okay, you liked it, you know you did, baby," he grinned wolfishly. "Anyhow, 
I'm gonna do it too, work'n get your pussy all hot for a fuckin', see?" With 
this, emulating his father, the lanky youth bowed his head, his hands 
gripping Kristina's nylon-sheathed knees to keep them widely parted and 
prevent her remonstrance, and then applied a long smacking kiss on her 
quivering pink cuntal lips. 

"Ooooh!" she gasped, unable to prevent the sporadic jerking of her lithe 
hips as the salacious kiss suddenly wakened the vague, tantalizing 
sensations which had so dazed her last night as to harbor no hostility 
towards her passion-driven father. 

"Just relax, Krissie, you're gonna love it, watch'n see," the grinning boy 
boastfully predicted. His prick bobbed and jerked, tilting up, its reddened 
glans swollen and exacerbated as his gloating, triumphant knowledge that his 
young sister had capitulated to his lusts titillated all his precociously 
keened sensuality. It had been much too quick and furtive with June. This 
would be unspeakably more exciting and prolonged, he resolved. 

Once again, his mouth fused on her cuntal core, sucking at the pouting, 
delicately formed lips of her maiden vulva, as his hands glided up and down 
her quivering long sleek thighs, caressing their lower columns and reveling 
in the sensuous feel of the sheer clinging nylon, ascending to the soft 
slightly moist quivering satiny in-sides. 

Oh my goodness, I can't believe how-how g-gentle Donald's being to me-my own 
brother k-kissing my p-pussy and-and feeling my I-legs-ohhh, I've got the 
funniest tickling between my legs, even more than with D-Daddy-what does it 
all mean? I-I don't think I ought to be letting my own brother do-do things 
like this to me-b-but I can't help it-I don't want him to blab about Daddy 
and me or worry poor Daddy by saying he was peeking in on us-oooh, 
besides-it-it feels so funny, all over ... my ... boobies ... a ... are 
starting to tickle, too, r-right at the tips-oh my gracious, now he's 
putting his tongue into my pussy- 

"Oh don't do that, Donald-oh my Lordie-oooh!" she squealed, as his rapacious 
young tongue goaded the urethral slit, then nudged the tiny little bud of 
her clitoris. Her knees rose up, spreading widely, and she thrust down one 
soft trembling hand towards his head to restrain his obscene yet strangely 
stirring brotherly homage to her tender virgin cunt. 

"Shh, don't yell like that, you'll wake 

Dad," her brother cautioned, with a nervous glance toward the locked door. 
"Now, it's not hurtin' you any, is it?" 

"N-n-b-but you oughtn't-oh, I feel so ashamed, letting you g-get in bed with 
me all n-naked-oh Donald, that's enough now, please go-go away, please?" 

"Uh uh," he grinned maliciously, his face reddened, his prick throbbing 
ferociously. "Not till you lemme fuck your pussy with my cock. Then I'll go, 
okay?" 

"I-I don't kn-know what you mean by f-f-fuck-" she quavered, lowering her 
eyes as new, even more furious blushes suffused her charmingly distraught 
face. Her soft little hand had edged over the moist twitching grotto of her 
cunt to fend off his further audacities, her other arm still covering her 
face to hide herself in her genuine virginal shame and embarrassment. 

"That's what I'm gonna show you, Krissie. Only you gotta be worked up more, 
any guy who goes with a broad knows that," Donald Ainsley bragged out of his 
one-time wisdom. 

Then, crawling forward a little astride her, and bending his head down to 
mouth her nipples, he ordered, "Now, stick out your hand and have a good 
feel of my cock, Krissie, so you know what it's like!" 

Still keeping one arm covering her blushing face, the petty, naked youngster 
reached her other hand out gingerly to encounter the hot rigidity of his 
prick, and instantly gasped, "Oh my! It's so big-and it-it jumps around when 
I touch it!" 

"Yeah," he gritted his teeth, "that's 'cause I wanna fuck your pussy so bad, 
Krissie, just the way I'll bet Dad did last night!" 

"Ohhh!" she lifted her head, consternated, "you-you mustn't say awful things 
like that, D-Donald! that's not right!" 

"Well, I betcha it's true. Hey, if you don't believe me, ask him yourself," 
he slyly insinuated, then again began to kiss and suck her panting 
apple-round tits, his hands cupping their undercurves to feed them to his 
avid lips. "G'wan, squeeze and rub my cock some, Krissie, till I tell you to 
stop! You gettin' hot any now?" 

The scarlet-faced naked blonde teenager did not know what to reply. Coerced 
by fear of her brother's artful blackmail but also as much as by a 
mountingly feverish curiosity to learn the meaning of her inexplicable 
submission to her father's startling overtures, Kristina had indeed begun to 
shiver and quiver as her brother's lips and hands stirred new sensations in 
her virgin, not yet awakened flesh. 

As his lips continued to brush over her panting young tits and chest and 
waist, Kristina clutched her brother's prick, spanning it with her palm, 
then gingerly lowering her little hand, her fingertips convulsively pressing 
it and thereby learning its taut, bulging, hot dimensions. With a groan, 
Donald twisted himself away, panting, "That's enough now! Now I'm gonna fuck 
your pussy good, honey!" 

Reaching under the pillow, he drew out a glossy white condom, which he had 
come upon some weeks ago in their father's study desk, and began to fit it 
along his aching prick, while Kristina, her face lifted, stared 
incredulously. "W-what's that?" she at last timidly asked. 

"Boy, are you square, Krissie! That's so's when I fuck your pussy, you won't 
get a baby or anything, see? Now I'm gonna get on top of you and push it 
into your cute pussy. You put your arms and legs around me and hold on 
tight, get it?" 

She had gone too far across her Rubicon of carnal initiation to turn back 
now, and so she nodded, twisting her face quickly to one side and closing 
her eyes. Slowly, Donald lowered himself over her, and she felt the sheathed 
rigidity of his prick prodding against the soft pink entryway of her maiden 
cunthole. "Ooooh!" she gasped, as a feverish tickling attacked the twitching 
lips of her besieged young cunt. Suddenly afraid and yet at the same time 
secretly eager to learn what these incredible new feelings portended, she 
locked her arms round her brother's wiry shoulders, her stockinged heels 
stiffening and digging against the rumpled covers of her bed as she readied 
herself for the unknown. 

"Now it shouldn't hurt much, honest-you never did this before, didja, 
Krissie?" he whispered, a flicker of remorse stirring in him at the last 
rational moment. 

"Nooo! Of course I haven't you big stupid-ohhh-ohhh-you-I can feel your 
pushing-it-it into mee-ooooh, Donald, it does hurt, just a little-oh my 
goodness-ahhh-Donald-no, I don't want you to-please-ohhh, stop-" 

Her voice rose shrilly as she felt his prickhead rasp against the thin, 
resisting membrane of her young cherry, and she stiffened, now more fearful 
than curious. But her brother clamped his palm over her mouth and hissed, 
"I'll do it quick, then it'll be fine, you'll see, honey-now don't yell, or 
Dad'll hear-I'm gonna do it now, honey-there-ahh-ohh, Gawd, I can feel it 
goin' into your tight hot li'l pussy Krissie honey-ohh, is it ever good!" 

Thanks to Kristina's athletic prowess as a tomboy, her hymen had been 
pierced at Donald's first energetic thrust. Now only a sudden fierce little 
twinge of pain accompanied her transition from innocent girlhood to 
unvirgined female. As she felt her brother's prick gouge inside her to the 
very hilt, she had uttered a stifled little cry, her eyes opening and fixing 
questioningly on his contorted, flushed face. Her fingernails dug 
spasmodically into his sinewy shoulders, and then, as if tutored by age-old 
instinct, her stockinged legs had flung round his flexing thighs as she 
arched to him, all her being concentrated on the blazing new sensation that 
had penetrated her innermost vitals and taught her at last what fucking was. 

Ohhh Donald's t-thing is all the way inside my pussy-now I know what Mother 
meant when she said she wanted me to grow up and be a woman 'cause I am 
now-oh, is this what Daddy really wanted to do to me last night? I do so 
wish it had been his c-cock inside my little pussy, oh yes I do-but I don't 
dare tell him or Donald either! Ooooh, it-it doesn't hurt so much now, and I 
can feel Donald shoving back and forth inside of my pussy, and his hands are 
squeezing my boobies-and now he's kissing me on the mouth-oh, my, he's so 
excited, and he's swinging himself up and down on me, I can feel and see 
him-oooooh, it tickles so inside my pussy, I just can't stand it-he's 
pushing in and out of me so fast it takes my breath away- 

Donald Ainsley's hands had slipped under his sister's jouncy pink-satiny 
bottom as, gripping the palpitating, resilient cheeks, he steered himself 
furiously back and forth with long hard thrusts, grinding his teeth to hold 
back the savage, bubbling waves of cum all he could. His mouth came down 
hard on hers, and Kristina moaned, arching to him as her young senses began 
to swirl into utter chaotic abandon. Her dainty coral nipples had hardened 
and darkened with her first tumescence. Now they scraped his heaving chest 
as he hastened his fucking pace, casting all concern for her to the winds. 
Then, with a sobbing cry, he felt himself explode deep inside her churning 
sheath, and lay sprawled over her, mashing down her panting firm tits with 
his shuddering chest. 

Kristina whimpered softly. She had no more control over her young flesh. 
Churning tides, glowing and clamorous, seethed inside her deflorated cunt, 
and her buttocks rubbed to and fro against the bedcovers, black spots danced 
before her dilated, humid eyes. She was hardly conscious that her long, 
lovely, nylon-sheathed legs were tightly wrapped round his bottom, or that 
her fingernails had scraped his shoulder blades nearly raw in that frenetic 
moment of volcanic release when orgasm had come upon her and made her, 
indeed, the woman Helga Ainsley had predicted she would be. But even her own 
doting mother couldn't have dreamed that it would take place just one day 
after that fateful birthday package! 

"Ohhh, Jeez, you were terrific, Krissie honey," vaguely, as in a dream, she 
heard her brother gasp. She felt him pull out of her, and the aching voice 
inside her twitching young cunt seemed suddenly torturing, as if she longed 
to remain in that exquisite, salacious state of carnal cohesion with his 
hard young prick burrowed to its utmost deep inside her quaking cuntal 
sheath. 

He knelt up, staring hungrily down at her still quivering naked body, 
accentuated in that delightful nubile satiny pinkness by the garter belt and 
nylons. "See? Wasn't it nice for you, Krissie?" he anxiously demanded, 
suddenly contrite to see the slight smear of hymeneal blood which signified 
her maiden loss. 

Kristina couldn't trust herself to speak. 

There were too many thoughts and emotions coursing through her wakened 
psyche. In reaction, she burst into muffled sobs, turning her face to one 
side, then suddenly covering her cunt with a trembling hand. 

"I'll sponge you off, it'll be okay, honey," he worriedly offered, getting 
off the bed and hurrying to her bathroom to dampen a hand towel and gently 
mop her cunt. 

"Sure you're okay, Krissie?" he lingered, now rueful, as if to verify the 
Latin proverb that after coitus, all animals are sad. But perhaps, aware of 
the enormity of his act in fucking his own young sister, he was apprehensive 
that she might denounce his act to their father. 

"Uh huh," she nodded wanly. "Just you go, Donald. Please. I-I won't tell 
Daddy, you don't have to worry any." 

"Yeah-thanks, honey. Gee, I'll make it up to you. You were swell, lots 
better'n June, honest. Well, see you tomorrow, huh, Sis?" Carefully 
unlocking the door and opening it to peer warily down the darkened hallway, 
he crept back to his own room. 

In the darkness, her naked body still quivering from sensual aftermath, 
Kristina Ainsley sighed disconsolately, put her soft hand to her cunt and 
began to stroke it lightly, as if trying to determine whether what had 
happened had noticeably altered her. The delicious tickling sensation 
gradually returned, and she spread her thighs, raised her knees, closed her 
eyes, as she whispered to herself, "Ooooh, it feels so nice-oh, Daddy, I 
wished you'd done it to me instead of Donald-oh, Daddy darling, maybe doing 
it to me'd have made you happier!" 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

It was the Monday after Easter, and Kristina was staying home from school 
for the week. Donald had gone out that afternoon to play softball with his 
friend Cy, and of course their father was busy at his office. Old Mrs. 
Weidman had been given the first three days of this week off to visit her 
cousin in Peoria, and, to make the school vacation something out of the 
ordinary, David Ainsley had promised 

Kristina and Donald to take them out to a different restaurant each of these 
three nights. 

The honey-haired teenager still wore her pretty blue dress and the 
coquettish lingerie sent by her mother, and she had definitely given up her 
pigtails for the grownup barrette and long sheaf of shimmering, silky hair 
which she carefully combed out into a neat cascade. Early yesterday morning, 
she'd awakened at seven out of a strange, disturbing dream in which she saw 
herself seized by a masked man who had led her by the wrist into a dark 
room, undressed her, taken her over his lap and spanked her till she cried 
and begged him to fuck her instead. And when he had done it to her, she had 
squirmed and wriggled so frantically from the rapturous sensations teeming 
through her pussy that she had ripped off his mask and discovered it was 
Daddy. He had laughed and told her that she was the one he really loved and 
that was why he had spanked her. When her eyes had opened to find herself in 
her own bed and to realize that, vivid though it had been, it had been only 
a strange, haunting dream, she had blushed to discover that her forefinger 
was buried to the knuckle inside her soft pink cunt, and that she was wet 
between her legs. 

Daddy had taken her and Donald to Easter brunch at Hugo's at the Water 
Tower, and the wonderful treats and the chocolate eggs and rabbits had 
occupied her enough to distract her from thinking about last night and the 
night before that. Donald had been on his best behavior. In fact, Daddy had 
asked him if he was sick or something, he was so unusually quiet. And she'd 
looked away quickly and tried very hard not to blush. 

Kristina had made her own lunch this afternoon and put away the dishes. Mrs. 
Weidman had often let her help in the kitchen and shown her how to cook a 
few simple things. As she went back to the living room to turn on TV, she 
thought to herself how cozy it would be if Mrs. Weidman didn't ever come 
back-though she was awfully nice-so that she could cook all of Daddy's meals 
and be closer to him. From the way he'd acted yesterday and some of the 
things he'd said, she knew he was really missing Mother. She was glad she 
was growing up so fast she could understand things about grownups which used 
to seem so mysterious to her. Maybe that was what Mother had meant in her 
note. 

And from what Donald had said about f-fucking Saturday night, how he was 
putting that rubber thing on so she wouldn't get a baby, Kristina had done a 
lot of thinking and figured out that that was exactly how Daddy and Mother 
had got her and Donald to be born. And now, if Mother was gone for good, 
Daddy didn't have anyone to fuck and be sweet on, so no wonder he was lonely 
and looking so sad so much of the time. 

The doorbell rang, and Kristina hurried to the door, then remembered what 
Daddy had said about keeping it on bar till she knew who was outside. 
Carefully she drew the door back, peering through the crack. "Who-who is 
it?" 

"Kristina, it's your Uncle Bjorn," came the answer in a strong baritone 
voice. 

"Oh, just a minute, Uncle Bjorn, I'll let you in!" she happily exclaimed as 
she slid the bar free and opened the door. 

Bjorn Berndtsson was Helga's younger brother, 38, with curly, sandy-colored 
hair, sturdy as a Viking, with twinkling blue eyes and full sensual mouth, 
and a perennial bachelor. He had been best man at his sister's wedding to 
David Ainsley, affably insisted on standing treat to the wedding reception. 
Then he had taken a plane to Los Angeles and rejoined the Swedish freighter, 
of which he was third mate, at San Pedro. From time to time, over the years, 
he had mailed gifts to both Kristina and Donald from various exotic ports of 
the world to which his travels took him. Last year, a week after her twelfth 
birtgh-day, he had come to Chicago on a cargo cruise up the Great Lakes, now 
master of the freighter, and he had brought Kristina a little garnet ring 
from Morocco and a tortoise-shell comb from Andalucia. 

"How's my favorite niece, sweetheart?" he lifted her up in his arms and 
kissed her on the mouth, then set her down and stood back, hands on his 
hips, to study her admiringly. "Ah, I can see you've grown up fast since 
your last birthday. And you've made your hair very lovely, too. That 
beautiful golden hair, which you inherited from my dear sister, the mark of 
a true Swede." 

"T-thank you, Uncle Bjorn. You haven't written for ages, I didn't know if 
you were coming-specially now that-well-you know-" Kristina flushed, looked 
down at her pumps, embarrassed for having referred to the divorce. 

"Oh. I see. But that makes no difference, wouldn't I still love my 
prettiest, my only, niece?" he chuckled jovially. He wore a visored cap, 
leather jacket and heavy corduroy trousers. Delving his big hand into the 
pocket of the jacket, he produced a tissue-wrapped jewelry case. "This is 
for your birthday, pretty one. Open it and then you will thank me." 

"Ohh, what is it?" Kristina hurriedly unwrapped the case and opened it, then 
gasped with delight to see an imitation pearl necklace. 

"That, young lady, is all the way from Macao. Oh, there is no better life 
than a sailor's, to see so many beautiful places all over the world, to have 
the wind and the sun and the sea blow away the dust of living all the time 
in a house. That is why I am always on my ship, you see, little one." 

"Oh, it's just beautiful-thank you so much, Uncle Bjorn!" 

"Now you must hug your uncle and kiss him nicely for such a present!" he 
chuckled. Blushingly, Kristina obeyed, tilting her mouth up to be kissed. 
His big hands gripped her sides, then slid down to press against her jouncy 
bottom. Suddenly his blue eyes narrowed and his mouth came down hard on 
hers, prolonging the kiss beyond the amenities till Kristina gasped and 
squirmed and finally put her hands to his cheeks to push him away. 

Her cheeks flamed as she stepped back, a hand to her bruised mouth, for she 
had just felt the unmistakable thrust of his hardened prick against her soft 
cunt when he had pulled her to him. 

"Oh ho!" he boomed in his resonant voice, with a lewd grin, "you are more 
grownup than I think, I, Bjorn Berndtsson, say this to you because we are 
alone and by ourselves. But, little one, a man who is on the high seas 
almost all year long, has little time to take himself a wife, and so after 
my long voyage up your dirty lakes, which cannot equal the beauty of our 
fjords and bays, here I see my niece in a pretty dress and nylon stockings. 
I am a simple man who appreciates such beauty even if I cannot have it for 
myself. Come now, give me the kiss of peace to show you are not angry with 
your Uncle Bjorn." 

Kristina had placed the necklace round her slim throat and touched it with 
her sensitive slim fingers. Somehow, it seemed to convey a kind of magical 
power, making her feel ever so mature. And he was so good-looking and so 
full of fun she could not be angry with him. 

"I-I'm not angry," she whispered as she shyly moved back to him to link her 
lovely arms around his neck and arch up on the toes of her suede pumps to 
offer him her mouth. 

"Now that is mine-eskalde, my little sweetheart, truly," he chuckled as his 
lips came down lingeringly on hers. His fingers again glided down from her 
waist to her lithe rounded young hips, and pressing intimately against the 
base of her resilient buttocks. Even as she gasped and struggled to break 
free, his fingers pressed her fiercely to him. His pelvic basin ground into 
hers, so that she could not help but feel the avid thrusting of his fully 
erect prick, pressing frock and petticoat and panties lasciviously into the 
soft pouting pink lips of her young cunt. 

"N-no, please-you-you mustn't," she whispered, twisting like an eel to get 
loose. 

"Ho, ho, you try to tell your Uncle Bjorn you know nothing of boys, min 
eskalde? But this I cannot believe, your body is already full and sweet as a 
young woman's, and there is about your face a look which I did not see last 
year. Surely you have a sweetheart at your school, a boy you let kiss and 
play with you?" 

"Oh n-no, Uncle Bjorn, oh no I don't-please-don't hold me that way-please 
be-be n-nice!" she stammered, flustered by the torrid emotions which his 
unexpected caresses and kisses had wakened in her burgeoning, young flesh. 

"Nice?" he mocked her, his hands rubbing up and down against her tensing 
bottom cheeks as he continued to press her tightly against his rigid prick. 
"But a delicious eskalde such as my favorite niece, when she is dressed like 
a woman who loves to flirt with strong men, must know that she must take the 
consequences if she excites them. My sister knew that-ja, Kristina, your own 
beautiful mother. It was only a pity she wasted so many years without your 
father's understanding how it is with women who wish to be women but are too 
proud to ask their men to treat them so. Now, there is something else that 
must be done, in honor of your birthday. Come along, my sweet little 
tempting eskalde!" 

So saying, he grasped her by the wrist and led her up the stairs. "Wh-what 
are you going to do, Uncle Bjorn?" she stammered, self-conscious as she had 
not been even with her own father or with Donald. 

"You will see, Kristina. Now, which is your room?" he authoritatively 
demanded, tugging her along as she followed. Stumbling and hesitant, an 
uneasy premonition grew with every step. 

"Here it is," she gasped. With a chuckle, Bjorn Berndtsson pulled her into 
the room, kicked the door shut, and then seated himself on the 
straight-backed chair beside her little writing desk near the bay window. To 
her consternation, he pushed her down over his knees, slid his right leg out 
from under hers, and promptly clamped it over her slim ankles, while his 
left arm pressed like a steel vise over her supple waist. 

"Oh nooo! Uncle Bjorn, what are you going to do? Oh please let me up!" 
Kristina tearfully protested, turning her contorted, flushed face back to 
her handsome, Viking-like uncle. 

"Min eskalde, as I could not come in time for your exact birthday, I must 
make up for it today," he announced, his right palm slyly caressing the 
firm, resilient curves of her well developed butt through her frock and 
savoring her frantic wrigglings and weavings. "So now you must have your 
birthday spanks, it is the tradition, and as your uncle I would not have you 
think I do not have love and affection for you." 

"Oh noooo, noo, I already had my b-birthday spanking, Uncle B-Bjorn!" 
Kristina wailed, plunging her hands back over her bottom to protect it from 
the threatened castigation. 

Bjorn Berndtsson chuckled, his eyes glittering with lustful admiration of 
the pretty youngster's burgeoning figure, then expertly pinned both her 
wrists with his big left hand and forced them back high along her back till 
she winced with pain. Tightening his clamp over her struggling 
nylon-sheathed ankles, he reached with his free hand to loft skirt and 
petticoat and roll them neatly up above her supple waist. "Ah ha," he 
pronounced delightedly when he saw the round saucy globes of her virgin butt 
contracting and huddling under the snug white nylon panty sheath, "it is as 
I thought, you are already a very tempting young woman. And only thirteen? 
It is truly incredible. Well then, min eskalde, you must have thirteen good 
strong spanks and an extra one to grow on from your Uncle Bjorn!" 

"Ohh noo, stop, stop, I don't want you to, please, Uncle B-Bjorn!" Kristina 
wailed, trying to free her wrists. 

"And," he went on as if she had not even spoken, "to make sure that your 
lovely backside gets its full accounting, I am going to give you the spanks 
on your bare skin." 

"Oh nooo! Not that-ohh for Lordie's sake, don't take my p-panties down, no, 
please don't, Uncle Bjorn!" she twisted frantically to avert the threatened 
disaster, but in vain. With the forefinger and middle finger of his right 
hand, he seized the waistband of the filmy sheath, gave it a vehement tug, 
and Kristina's despairing wail proclaimed the descent of her final veil of 
modesty down to her knees. 

"Ahhh, now I can truly see how much you have matured in the year I have been 
away, my little blonde Viking goddess," he chuckled suggestively as his 
right palm lingeringly stroked the flinching, tightening rounds of her naked 
butt. "Such warm satiny skin, so soft and yet so firm-and you still tell 
your old uncle you have no boyfriends to take pleasure in that lovely body 
of yours?" 

"Oh noooo! Oh my Lordie, oh please pull my p-panties up, Uncle Bjorn! This 
is just dreadful of you-you've no right to treat me like this, my birthday's 
over!" she tearfully protested, again trying to jerk her wrists loose of his 
inexorable hold. As she arched and twisted her loins over his big lap, she 
unwittingly exposed the soft pink fig of her delicious, well formed cunt, 
and his eyes glittered more ardently than ever at the exquisitely 
provocative sight. 

"Not for me it is not, min eskalde. Now be a brave good girl and take your 
spanking properly, or I will think you are still a naughty little child, and 
then of course you will have to be punished severely," he declared. Patting 
her cringing bare behind, he suddenly raised his hand and descended it 
briskly, flattening the inner edges of both satiny butt-cheeks at the exact, 
ripest center of her delightfully contoured naked posterior. 

"Owww, that stings!" she ruefully called out, sniffling and looking back 
imploringly at him. 

"And that is only one. What, you start to cry already? Bah, you are not yet 
a worthy descendant of your dear mother's heroic ancestors. But I will do my 
poor best to make you proud of your heritage, my little niece!" he taunted 
as his big hand came down sonorously on the base of her right buttock. 
Kristina's legs stiffened, jerked, then clenched, her hips squirming 
lasciviously from side to side, then unrearing lewdly as if to invite more 
spanking. Once again, unknowingly, she exposed the palpitating lips of her 
tender young cunt. 

"Two!" he chuckled, staring fixedly at the bright crimson splotches, 
imprints of his spanking palm, which stood out in lewd contrast against the 
pale glossy sheen of her carnation-tinted naked flesh. 

The third spank flattened the base of the other buttock, drew a plaintive, 
sobbing "Owww, oh please stop, Uncle Bjorn" from the disconsolate blonde 
teenager, and was duly counted. Pausing a moment now, he ran his palm very 
slowly, appraisingly, over Kristina's huddling bare butt, a forefinger tip 
insinuating along the ambery-rosy sinuous crevice that led to her anal 
maidenhead. 

"Ohhh noo!! Oh please take your hand away, Uncle Bjorn, that's not 
d-decent!" she sobbed, again struggling to get loose, but accomplishing only 
his further arousal in witnessing the lascivious wrigglings of her naked 
hips and the glimpse of that palpitating soft pink cuntal niche. 

Perhaps if Kristina's virile bachelor uncle had not caught a pretty blonde 
stowaway, a 19-year-old hippie dressed in jeans and man's shirt, who had 
sneaked aboard his freighter just before it cleared the Erie Chanal, he 
might have been more circumspect with his luscious young niece. But the 
stowaway, Elsie Torrance, had strikingly resembled Kristina in demure, saucy 
features and the intense dark-blue eyes and turned-up dainty nose. like 
Kristina, too, her tits were small but perfectly formed, round and 
arrogantly firm, and her skin a soft pale glossy pink. She had kicked and 
cursed him when two sailors had dragged her out of a hogshead into his 
cabin, and though he had at first been inclined to put her to work earning 
her keep and then letting her off at the next port of call, her vicious 
obscenities and struggles had inflamed his rut. He had had the sailors tie 
her down over a tall stool and wind a cord round her waist and under the 
top, then had fucked down her jeans and men's shorts to bare a surprisingly 
spacious, round tight-spaced pair of butt-cheeks. Taking his belt, he had 
striped her wriggling ass some thirty times, then demanded she apologize for 
her insults. And when she had tearfully told him to go fuck himself, he had 
smeared his prick with shaving cream, waggled his cream-smeared forefinger 
into the dainty pink orifice of her ass hole, then buggered her enjoyably. 

Unhappily for unsuspecting, precocious young Kristina, her now denuded young 
hips and loins and her struggles and her sauciness had feverishly aroused 
the exciting images of his subjugation of the audacious young stowaway. Now, 
lifting his hand off his niece's bare behind, he applied a noisy smack to 
the upper right summit, calling out "That makes four!" 

"Oww, you're hurting me so, Uncle Bjorn-oh please stop, that's enough," 
Kristina tearfully entreated, again turning back her flushed, contorted face 
to her handsome, obsessed uncle. 

Smack! His palm flattened the lower left summit of her now vividly reddening 
ass and was greeted by a shrill wail of "Owouuuu! Ohh, no more, you-you 
spank too hard, Uncle Bjorn, oh please don't, I'll be good!" 

"Five! And you know you are fibbing to your uncle when you say you have no 
boyfriends, you are much too pretty and well made not to have them!" Smack! 
His right palm visited the upper right summit again, darkening the bright 
crimson hue already imprinted, and making Kristina's voluptuous bare ass 
jerk and twist lasciviously from side to side as if to shake off the 
excruciating hot sting of the spanking. "Six!" he gruffly declared as she 
sobbed and again pleaded with him to spare her. 

"Ohh-ohh-but-but I'm telling the truth, Un-Uncle B-Bjorn, I don't have any 
b-boyfriends, h-honest I don't-oh do let me up and pull my panties back, 
puh-puh-lease, you hurt my bottom so!" she besaught him in a voice choked 
with intermittent sobs. 

"I will see for myself, you little vixen," he chuckled lewdly, as, 
maintaining his tight grip on her slim wrists, he artfully probed with his 
right forefinger under her tossing, angrily reddened bare ass to insert 
within the pouting, soft lips of her vulva and, before she could frenziedly 
wriggle and try to jerk herself away, had gouged his finger in up to the 
knuckle. 

"OH NOOO! DON'T DO THAT, OH UNCLE BJORN, THAT'S AWFUL OF YOU! OH I'M SO 
ASHAMED, LET ME BE! OH SPANK ME IF YOU HAVE TO, BUT PLEASE TAKE YOUR FINGER 
OUT OF MY PUSSY!" Kristina wailed hysterically. 

"So, you have been fokking, min eskalde, and do not try to lie to me this 
time, for my finger tells me different," he muttered thickly, his eyes 
narrowed and flinting with his mounting lust. "If you were still a virgin, 
my finger could not go in so far! So you are playing tricks on boys already 
and you try them on a full grown man such as myself? For that you shall have 
not only your spanking, but also a little taste of the way the Vikings did 
to shameless hussies when they made them slaves in the olden days!" 

So saying, he pulled her closer to him, shifted his right leg higher along 
her nylon-sheathed, sinuous calves, and then began to spank in earnest 
without bothering to keep count. His big hand rose and fell vehemently, and 
the noisy, crisp slaps were punctuated with her woebegone, feverish cries 
and choking sobs as she tried with all her might to twist herself free. Her 
thighs flexed violently, tried to clench, then yawned apart, then bent, 
while her flaming naked round-cheeked ass weaved, flattened, arched, swung 
furiously this way and that, unable to evade the barrage of burning spanks 
that attacked it from hip slopes to the tops of her long lithe thighs. 

At last he paused to catch his breath, and Kristina, sobbing as if her heart 
would break, abandoned herself, going limp over his lap, head bowed, 
shoulders jerking with her uncontrollable plaints. "Oh-ohhh, puh-puhlease-no 
more, please, d-dear Un-Uncle Bjorn-I'll do anything you want-just anything! 
Only please don't sp-spank my poor b-bottom any more!" 

"Are you telling the truth for once, min eskalde!" he angrily demanded, 
releasing her wrists and twisting the fingers of his left hand into her 
tumbled, honey-gold hair, yanking at it to force her to look back at him. 

"Y-yes-oh yes-oh please, I-I can't stand it any more-I'll do anything you 
want-honest-" 

"Then, naughty one, start by telling me who it was took your flower-you know 
very well what I mean-who was it fokked you?" His thickly accented use of 
the Sweedish word for "fuck" was close enough to the lewd word her own 
brother had taught her, and Kristina's face turned as fiery red as her 
wriggling naked bottom. I don't dare tell Uncle Bjorn, I just don't 'cause 
it was my own brother-and if I told him about D-Donald, then-then-it might 
come out that that was what D-Daddy himself wanted-wanted to do to me-and 
I'd die before I'd let anybody know that-oh how hard he spanked me, my poor 
bottom's burning so, but I won't tell him, I won't, not even if he goes on 
doing it to me-ohh, I'm so ashamed-he-he stuck his fingerr-right in my 
pussy-my own Uncle Bjorn-he's holding me so tight I can't get hose, he can 
do anything he wants to me and I can't stop him-oooh, it's starting to 
tickle again inside my pussy-j-just the way it did when Daddy sp-spanked me 
and-and when Daddy kkissed my pussy-and-and then Donald f-fucked it-oh, why 
do I feel this funny way when I get spanked and when somebody t-touches my 
little pussy? 

"Ah ha, I see, you are ashamed now and you want to keep it a secret. And I 
bet also your own father does not know what a naughty little girl he has 
growing up in his house. Well then, if you want me to keep your secret, you 
must be as nice to me as you were with whatever boy it was you let between 
your legs, min eskalde!" Bjorn Berndtsson grinned triumphantly as his right 
hand resumed fondling and kneading Kristana's inflamed, pain-throbbing bare 
ass cheeks. 

Oh noool What does he mean? Oh no-he-he can't-he wouldn't-not what D-Donald 
did to me? Oh my gosh, this is just terrible-but I'm only a little girl, I 
can't stop him, he's so big and strong and he's holding me down over his lap 
and my panties are off and my poor bottom is still stinging from that awful 
spanking-and he'll go on doing it till I say I will-ohh, nobody's home to 
stop him either-I'm all alone here with Uncle Bjorn, I never thought he 
could be so mean and wicked to a helpless little girl, oh what am I going to 
do? 

"I am waiting to hear you answer me, Kristina," he said hoarsely, giving her 
reddened naked ass a sharp slap that drew a stifled gasp from the 
frantically shamed teenager. His left hand was still twisted in her tumbled 
hair, and he gave it a sudden little tug to remind her of her helplessness. 
"So, shall I go on spanking your pretty behind till you make up your mind, 
eh? like this-and this-and this one too-well now, are you going to decide? 
Or do you enjoying being spanked like this-and also this?" 

At each "this," his right hand rose and swiftly made impact with Kristina's 
writhing, huddling, inflamed butt cheeks. "Owww-ouuu, don't, ohh, I won't 
tell you, oh please don't ask me to tell, Uncle Bjorn-aiii-yes-yes, all 
r-right, I-I'll do what you want-if you'll only stop-oh, it hurts me so!" 
she blubbered. 

"Very well, I will let you off the spanking, then, if you promise to do nice 
things for your uncle. Get down off my lap and kneel between my legs, just 
so!" Releasing her, he leaned back and avidly watched the sniffling young 
blonde gingerly squirm off his lap and sink down on her knees between his 
straddled thighs. "Now, pull down the zipper and take out what you find, min 
eskalde," he chuckled with a salacious wink. "And do not be so foolish as to 
tell me you do not know what it is, not after my own finger has made sure 
you have had something like that inside you long before this! Hurry now, be 
quick, or back over my lap you go!" 

"Ohh, Uncle B-Bjorn-that-that's d-dirty-oh please don't make me do that!" 
she implored in a dying, sobbing voice. 

"I will use my belt instead of my hand on your bare sit down place, naughty 
little Kristina, if you do not at once do as I have told you!" he sternly 
countered, putting a hand to the heavy black leather belt of his corduroy 
trousers. 

Squirming restlessly on her stockinged knees, feeling the hot throbbing 
pangs assail her quivering young bottom, the honey-haired teenager faltering 
extended a trembling little hand to his zipper and reluctantly tugged it 
down. Then she recoiled, a hand to her mouth to stifle the incredulous gasp 
that rose to her lips. His savagely stiff prick had bobbed out like a 
Jack-in-the-box, the glans hugely plum-shaped and broad, set off from the 
taut, bony-looking shaft by a wide shallow circumcisional groove, the lips 
of the meat was twitching and contracting to evince the furious lust which 
now had full possession of his senses. 

"Ja, now take it in your soft hand, my Kristina, and kiss it!" 

Ohhh, Lordie, how can he ask a girl my age to do such a horrid thing? My 
goodness, his is so huge and long and-and th-thick! Oh it's ever so much 
bigger than Donald's-yes, or even Daddy's! But he's looking at me so cross 
and scowling, and he's got his hand on that awful big thick belt, and it 
would hurt my poor bottom just dreadfully if he spanked me with it, I can't 
help doing what he wants, I just can't! Oh Donald, just see what an awful 
mess you got me into, all because you had to go and tell Daddy to-to give me 
a birthday spanking-I'll bet all this wouldn't have happened if you'd kept 
your big mouth shut-oh my goodness, Uncle Bjorn is pointing to-to his big 
hard t-thing-he-he wants me to k-kiss it-I-I guess I'll just have to! 

Cupping the shaft in her left palm and grimacing as if it were a hot coal 
burning her tender flesh, Kristina approached her stricken, scarlet face to 
his heavy, inflamed prick. Closing her eyes and drawing a shuddering breath, 
she brushed the glans with her trembling lips. 

"How very shy and sweet you pretend to be, but you and I know differently, 
nichts?" he chuckled slyly. Then, in a harsh, taut voice, "Better than that, 
Kristina, or I will use the belt on you very hard-put as much of it as you 
can all the way into your mouth, and suck on it, as you would do with a 
lollypop I had brought you for your birthday! Quickly, now!" 

"Ohhhh, Uncle Bjorn-please don't make me do that-I couldn't-" 

"No?" he softly purred, eyeing her steadily and beginning to unbuckle the 
heavy leather belt. 

"Yes, yes, I will, don't sp-spank any more, please, Uncle B-Bjorn!" she 
despairingly sobbed. Then, fearful, that he might carry out his threat after 
all, the blonde teenager hastily opened her mouth, took firmer hold of his 
throbbing prick with her left hand and, leaning to it, inserted it deeply 
before she closed her lips. Her eyes went very wide with repugnance and 
alarm, and also something more, something she herself could not explain for 
her nostrils dilated and shrank convulsively, her firm round tits heaved 
erratically and as she wavered on her stockinged knees, she felt her thighs 
ripple and prickle with the same treacherous hot waves of female awareness 
that had betrayed her on the night of her birthday-and on that even more 
memorable night following it when her own brother had claimed her virgin 
cherry. I can't believe it, I-I've got Uncle Bjorn's c-cock inside my month 
and I'm sucking it! Ugh, it-it tastes so strong and b-bitter-and I can feel 
it move when I suck it, as if it was trying to-to bite me back! I hope I 
won't get sick-ugh, I never thought I'd ever do something like this-I can 
feel it fill up my mouth and press against my cheek, I can hardly 
swallow-my-my bottom still stings so, but-but it's so funny, it sort of 
doesn't really hurt, it's tickling me lots more in-in my-p-pussy and I can't 
seem to stay still on my knees, I-I'm swaying-am I going to faint or 
something? Oh my, how big his c-cock is getting, I can feel the big red head 
of it getting bigger every minute- 

"Now that's enough, little one," he said roughly as he pushed her head away 
and abruptly rose, his big glistening red prick bobbing between his sturdy 
thighs. "Now take off that dress and your panties too, while I go find 
something so I don't hurt your sweet little hole! Do as I tell you to, 
Kristina girl! Or do you want a taste of my belt, hm?" 

Shamefacedly, she stumbled to her feet, shaking her head, her eyes big and 
wide and humid with fear and also the inexplicable submission of a conquered 
young slave girl. She couldn't explain it, but his bold authority, 
outrageous though it was, had impressed her, made her afraid to do anything 
else but obey. And her gaze fixed unwaveringly on the huge, straining 
projection of his prick. Her own lips had sucked it, wet till it glistened 
with her own saliva. Her hands fumblingly tugged the frock off. Then, 
stopping, she husked her twisted little panties down to her ankles and 
stepped out of them. Clad in the petticoat, bra, garter belt, hose and 
pumps, she was bewitching in the Lolita-like allure of child-woman who had 
suddenly become no longer virgin, not yet mature and yet precociously 
instructed in what her body must perform to the demand of him who would 
command it. 

Bjorn Berndtsson emerged from the bathroom with a little jar of cleansing 
cream and Kristina, who had just turned towards him, gasped and shrank back 
to see that he had doffed his corduroy trousers and shorts and was naked 
from the waist down, his prick enormously swollen, the heavy balls 
contracting and covered with thick dark-blonde hair. "Now take that 
petticoat off and come here to me, min eskalde, he huskily commanded, and 
the blonde teenager tremblingly obeyed, naked now save for bra and garter 
belt, nylons and pumps. She moved as if hypnotized towards him, eyes huge 
and humid, fixing on his face with an imploring yet submissive expression. 

"Ahhh, now you are just the way I like a pretty girl, Kristina," he 
muttered, his eyes fixing on the soft pink lips of her quivering cunt. "God 
lay yourself over the side of the bed and spread your legs nicely for your 
Uncle Bjorn!" 

"You-you aren't g-going to spank me any more, are you?" she quavered as she 
reluctantly approached the bed. 

"Not if you do what I tell you to, Kristina. Stretch out now, that's it, and 
keep your legs wide apart-that's the way! Now hold still!" So saying, he 
uncapped the jar of cream and moved to her, bending to her reddened bottom 
as he daubed his right forefinger with the scented cream. Kristina uttered a 
shocked squeal when she felt him probe against the dainty coral-tinted lips 
of her virgin butt hole and daub the cream over the shrinking petals of her 
anus. Looking back, she gasped, "Ohh, what are you doing?" 

"I would much rather fokk your sweet pussy, my darling, but I have nothing 
with me and I do not with you to be with child. So I will teach you how nice 
it can be in the other tight little hole, and I will make you have pleasure 
just the same, you will see," he explained, now anointing his prick 
liberally with the cream. 

"Ooo-I don't know what you me-an-ohhhh, what are you doing to me?" for he 
had just yawned open the inflamed cheeks of her well-spanked ass to expose 
the flinching, stickied pink lips of her maiden anus, and now playfully 
prodded it with the tip of his huge, glistening glans. "Ohhh, noooo, it'll 
never go in, Uncle Bjorn, ohhh, don't f-fuck me there, please, no!" she 
tearfully entreated, trying to raise herself off the bed. 

It will go in, do not worry, little one. And I will be very gentle and slow, 
I promise, so as not to cause you pain. Then you will learn how exciting it 
can be for a naughty girl who-likes to fokk and not tell her father how 
grownup she is," he playfully assured the squirming, uneasy half-nude 
teenager. "Now lie still and keep your legs well apart, or I shall have to 
spank you with my belt and you will not like that at all. Gently now-" his 
big hands very lingeringly opened her butt-cheeks again and he arched 
himself to press the glans of his straining prick against the tensing labia 
of her virgin ass hole. Kristina tilted back her head, eyes enormously 
widened, nostrils flickering, her mouth gaping in an anguished little O as 
she awaited her martyrdom. 

Very gently, he pressed the tip of his heavy prickhead till grudgingly her 
ass hole lips gave way and accepted the swollen spear-point. Kristina 
uttered a long-drawn "Ahhh!", began to shiver as with ague, and kicked up. 
First one foot, then the other, her suede pumps thudded to the floor as she 
valiantly summoned all her young energies to withstand this novel and 
much-feared assault on her final cherry. 

"Tell me how it feels, Kristina," Bjron Berndtsson demanded, both his hands 
kneading his young niece's reddened, saucy round butt-cheeks as he halted 
himself with a single inch of his prick burrowed into the tight warm grotto 
of her tender ass hole. 

"It-it's so big-oh I'm scared-it-it'll hurt me, Un-Uncle Bjorn-please t-take 
it out-oh, if you-if you have to f-fuck me, please won't you f-fuck my 
p-pussy instead, please?" she tremulously petitioned, keeping her flushed, 
contorted face turned back to stare imploringly at him. 

"I have already told you why I will not put it in your pussy, naughty little 
Kristina. Now try to relax yourself, don't fight me with your muscles, and 
you will see how nicely it will go in," he advised. 

"I-I'll try, Uncle B-Bjorn-ohhhohhhhhh, I can feel it stretching me in 
there, Uncle Bjorn!" her voice rose shrilly as he pressed slowly forward, 
imbedding the full length and breadth of his plum-shaped glans inside the 
sphincter-ring of muscles which acted as repelling sentinels at the gateway 
to her virgin ass hole. Again she kicked up first one foot then the other, 
thrust her little hands back to her bottom as yearning to seize his 
ferocious weapon and pull it out of her dainty anal channel. But with a soft 
laugh, he grasped both her wrists in his left hand, whispering hoarsely, 
"Lift yourself up a little, sweetheart, now I will give you pleasure, you 
will see-trust your Uncle Bjorn!" 

Whimpering, still apprehensive, the half-naked blonde teenager arched up her 
hips, whereupon he slid his right forefinger under her and probed to find 
the diminutive nodule of her clitoris. No sooner had he touched it than a 
stricken look of mingled wonder and alarm congealed on her saucy flushed 
face. 

Ohhhhhhh whatever is he doing to me-he's touching my pussy, and it's 
tickling me like crazy, more than it ever did before inside my p-pussy. Ohhh 
now his finger's rubbing something inside there, so slowly and so lightly, 
and I can feel my bottom move around-ohhh now he's pushing his great big 
cock inside my bottom-ohh, ohhhh, how it stretches me-I feel I want to go to 
the toilet and push it back out but I can't-now he's tickling me faster and 
faster with his finger-ugghh-ahh-his cock-ohh Lordie, he's tearing me wide 
open in my bottom, I just know he is-ooooh, ahh, I feel so dizzy, it tickles 
so much I'm so dizzy, everything's going black, ohhh he just pushed his cock 
harder into my b-bottom-ohhhh I can feel it way down deep inside me, so very 
deep, oh his finger-his finger-I wish my Daddy were f-fucking me, oh I wish 
he were ohh I feel so funny, oh every time he touches me in my pussy there, 
I ... I feel my bottom jerking and w ... wiggling-and-and the spanking he 
gave me has made me so hot all over, I'm going to yell in a minute, I can't 
stand the tickling, ohhh Lordie, something's happening inside my pussy, I'm 
getting all wet and-and- 

"Ohh fuck meeee oh yes yes ohhhh fuck me harder ohhh it's so good, what 
you're doing with your finger, Uncle Bjorn!" Kristina twisted her face round 
and plaintively sobbed, her tits shudderingly rising and falling as she was 
inexorably drawn into the dark swirling vortex of her very first true cum. 

"Yes, yes, my sweet eskalde, I'llioA;A; you good now, cum with me, sweet 
Kristinaahh haa-now-now-ahhhhh oh how tight it is to my big cock-now!" he 
bellowed as, working his prick back and forth, pitilessly gouging her well 
distended young anal groove, he violently bubbled all his viscous come deep 
into the young blonde's quaking bowels. Kristina uttered a clamorous shriek 
of indescribable rapture, buried her scarlet face in the covers of her 
rumpled bed, turning it this way and that as her hips and loins threshed 
uncontrollably in the overwhelming frenzy of orgasmic bliss. 

She lay sprawled, panting and whimpering, as he carefully and slowly pulled 
out of her stickied, clenching ass hole, then disappeared into her bathroom 
for a moment. When he returned, he was dressed, his face gentle and calm as 
he bent down to stroke her bottom and thighs, then kiss each quivering, 
reddened butt-cheek. "What a woman you already are, my little niece," he 
said tenderly. "How nice it would be if you were not my niece and I could 
wait perhaps three or four years till you are-as you will surely be-a 
magnificent woman born to give a strong man like me all the pleasures. Now, 
do you feel better, sweetheart?" 

She nodded wanly, still shivering with the aftermath of that tempestuous 
carnal storm which had burst within her young flesh and nerves and psyche. 

"You'd best tidy up in the bathroom, Kristina love," he murmured, kissing 
the deliciously hollow of her spine just above the chinkbone. "Then take a 
good nap. I shall be writing to you from the next foreign port, and I will 
send you a beautiful present. Remember, this is our little secret. You will 
keep yours about that boy who taught you so much already, and I will keep 
mine of the wonderful hour of love my true eskalde gave me." 

He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Kristina sighed, 
shivered voluptuously, then slowly reached back to touch her reddened 
buttocks. Ohh Mother, she thought to herself, I never thought I'd grow up so 
fast or that there were so many ways to f ... fuck. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

With Easter vacation closing down the school all this week, both Kristina 
and her brother had plenty of time to themselves. The charming blonde 
teenager, however, kept away from Donald as much as she could out of a 
furious embarrassment which made her blush and lower her eyes whenever she 
looked at him. It was, indeed, all she could do to hide these signs of 
intense self-consciousness when both of them were at the breakfast and 
supper table with their father. At times there was a strained silence 
between them during the usual family conversations. However, David Ainsley 
was far too preoccupied to observe this curious phenomenon. For one thing, 
he himself was still anxiously dismayed over his impulsive lustful usage of 
his thirteen-year-old daughter and tried as much as possible to efface her 
memory of it by a kind of withdrawal in their usual communications. He was 
also giving a good deal of thought to finding someone to take Helga's place. 
Her departure had imposed too torturing a continence on his vigorous male 
passions, and the shocking proof of that, which continued to loom in his 
mind, had been the playful spanking of Kristina which had snowballed into 
his nearly raping his own daughter. 

Consequently he plunged himself into his work at the office, and his 
brooding self-analysis made him particularly glum and snappish with his 
attractive secretary Rita Henshaw. Irritated as he was by his domestic 
problem and by the daily proximity of a tempting long-legged young woman 
whose very presence in his office reminded him all too bitterly of his 
empty-bed woes, he had occasion to reprimand her rather sharply several 
times during the first part of the week for the slightest lapses, such as a 
single misspelled word or one of the letters he had dictated with his back 
turned towards her, ungenerously failing to realize that she had been 
extremely competent to transcribe his mumbled dictation at all. 

In return, Rita Henshaw retaliated with an icy aloofness and a glacially 
polite acceptance of his orders which only served to widen the breach 
between them. Irked by the unsatisfactory fucking performance of her last 
lover as much as by her apparently ignored interest in her boss as an ideal 
replacement, Rita evidenced a studied hostility each time she answered the 
intercom buzzer from David Ainsley's office to come in with her steno pad. 
The frown on her sensual, oval-shaped face made her even more challengingly 
desirable and in its consequential turn whetted his sexual awareness of her 
as a fuckable female whom he had already vetoed as a sexual partner because 
she was his employee. 

By four-thirty this Friday afternoon, only the art director and David 
Ainsley and his secretary remained in the office. His media research firm 
employed an even dozen employees, and his own working philosophy was 
easygoing so far as hours were concerned, just so the work was done. The 
work load had been lighter than usual this week, and so most of the staff 
had already left for the long weekend. He sat smoking, going through a sheaf 
of letters Rita Henshaw had just brought in for him to sign, wondering how 
he was going to get through another lonely, boring weekend and feeling 
particularly sorry for himself. 

The phone rang and he picked it up. "Ainsley here. Oh, yes, Mr. Hebron, now 
about that prospectus-what's that? You-you what? A bill from us, is that 
what you're saying-to Markheim Inc. of St. Louis? My God, I'll bet the 
prospectus went to them. I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Hebron. Tell you what, I've 
got a carbon of the prospectus, I'll have it Xeroxed right now and bring it 
over-oh, you're leaving the office now? Well, suppose I send it special 
delivery to your home-fine-thanks for being so nice about it. The same to 
you, Mr. Hebron." 

The lanky dark-brown-haired executive slammed down the phone, then, his lips 
tightening grimly, pressed the intercom buzzer. 

Rita Henshaw entered, poised, her thin penciled brows arched with a kind of 
insolent expectancy. He glared at her, all the more angrily because she 
seemed more tantalizingly fuckable than ever. Five feet seven inches in 
height, her brown rayon dress outlining the svelte elegance of a 
mouthwatering figure, the gauzy charcoal-brown nylons caressing the sleek 
curves of high-set, sinuous calves and showing the suavely dimpled knees and 
just a hint of the lithe long willowy and very womanly thighs above. Her 
high-set cheekbones gave her oval face an exotic allure. She had a feline 
arrogance to her that was maddening to him, angered as he was by this 
unpardonable blunder. 

"That was Ben Hebron, Miss Henshaw," he growled. "Remember that prospectus 
you typed up for him?" 

"Yes, I do, Mr. Ainsley. What's wrong?" 

"Oh, you typed it well enough, Miss Henshaw. But it seems you sent him the 
Markheim bill instead. Now how the hell could a stupid thing like that 
happen?" 

Instantly she flared back at him, "We have a mail boy, remember, Mr. 
Ainsley? I take out all your mail-except your last-minute letters, which I 
handle myself-out to the mailroom desk. I don't stand there to make sure 
Elmer puts the right piece into the right envelope, you know. And I resent 
your swearing at me and blaming me for someone else's mistake." 

"Swearing at you? All I said was hell. Damn it, Miss Henshaw, you're getting 
just a little too impertinent, and I don't especially care for it." 

She stared coolly at him. "I can't say I enjoy your browbeating me either, 
Mr. Ainsley. Or taking it out on me because your wife left you." 

"God damn it, that remark was uncalled for! I've a good mind to fire you. 
But first, you're going to take this Hebron prospectus carbon, Xerox it, 
type out the label for an envelope to his home address and take it yourself 
to the main post office so it'll go out special delivery." 

"Of course I'll do that, Mr. Ainsley." She turned to go. "I've got the 
carbon in my files." 

"And you'll apologize for that unnecessary and offensive remark of yours 
too, young lady!" 

She turned back to face him, slowly shook her head. "No, I won't. Because 
it's true and you know it." 

David Ainsley swore under his breath, then declared in a hoarse, angry 
voice, "I've had just about enough of your sarcasm, Miss Henshaw. You're 
acting the way my thirteen-year-old daughter might, and the remedy for her 
if she behaved that way is a good sound spanking!" 

Rita Henshaw tossed her head with a triumphantly mocking little smile. "Oh, 
of course, Mr. Ainsley," she countered with disdainful politeness, "violence 
is always the last resort of people who can't cope with situations." 

"It is, eh?" his voice throbbed with unleashed fury. "Then put me down as 
one of those, Miss Henshaw, because that's exactly what I'm going to 
prescribe for you!" And with this, he caught her by the wrist and pulled her 
towards the leather-padded couch towards the back of his spacious private 
office. 

"Take your hands off me-how dare you treat me this way, Mr. Ainsley-stop 
it-you're hurting my wrist-" Rita Henshaw indignantly protested as she tried 
to jerk her wrist loose, then struck at him ineffectually with her closed 
left fist, at the same time trying to kick at his shins with the toe of her 
brown suede pump. 

Agilely evading both kick and blow, the dark-brown-haired executive seated 
himself on the couch, then unceremoniously yanked her down across his lap, 
keeping hold of her wrist with his left hand and bending it up high on her 
back to hamper her resistance. 'With a cry of raging humiliation, the svelte 
brunette kicked her legs to and fro wildly and tried to twist herself off 
his lap. Deftly, he slid his right leg out from under her, only to lock it 
over her sleek nylon-sheathed calves and thus immobilize her. "And now, Miss 
Henshaw, you're going to get what's coming to you!" he declared. 

"Damn you, let me up-I quit, I don't want your rotten job, you're just a 
lousy sport, that's all you are!" she cried, twisting her lovely, contorted 
face back round to him and, awkwardly, with her free hand, trying to break 
his hold on her right wrist. 

Ignoring her vehement struggles and tirades, David Ainsley gripped the hem 
of her brown rayon skirt and lofted it high above her slim waist, drawing a 
furious shriek of indignation and a redoubled wriggling effort to get loose. 
A peach-hued nylon petticoat veiled the spectacularly ripe, firm oval-shaped 
cheeks of her magnificent bottom, all the more accentuated by the supple 
slimness of her waist and her long sleek thighs. Unerringly, his right hand 
grasped the hem of that veil too and pulled it up to join her skirt high on 
her gracefully hollowed back. 

"Nooooo! Stop it, Goddamn you anyway!" she shouted, tears of fierce 
humiliation glistened in her dilated gray-green eyes. Once again she twisted 
her hips this way and that and struck out at him with her left fist. 

"Now who's using profanity?" he chuckled sarcastically as he stared with 
undisguised lustful admiration at Rita Henshaw's upturned, spacious, oval 
ass cheeks, snugly and provocatively displayed in a pair of peach-tinted 
nylon panties, while, under the waistband could be seen the tight cling of a 
very narrow, fragile flesh-colored, satin-elastic garter belt whose tabs 
hugged her long, shapely, nervously muscled tawny-sheened thighs. 

"Let me go! Ohh, you've got no right to manhandle me this way, Mr. Ainsley, 
you're just taking your spite out on me, it's not fair!" she stormed as she 
kept looking round at him, futilely twisting and wriggling her hips as she 
kept trying to escape. 

His lips tightened, and his right hand impulsively inserted itself beneath 
the waistband of the skimpy, gossamer panties. "Ohh nooo, don't you dare do 
that! Do you hear me? Stop it this minute-ohhh, you big brute you!" Rita 
Henshaw wailed despairingly as she tried to flatten herself on his lap to 
prevent the ultimate catastrophe. 

With a vigorous tug, he yanked the filmy panties down to her knee hollows, 
and could not suppress a gasp of excitement at the mouthwatering, 
prick-hardening sight of the plump, jutting oval-shaped globes of her naked 
ass, the ambery-rosy cleft between the cheeks salaciously broadening as it 
neared the base. The smooth, satiny, warm skin with its tawny tintings 
shivered and palpitated as Rita, frantic with humiliation, contracted all 
her muscles to attempt to diminish the lewd spectacle she was so unwillingly 
according her angry employer. 

Impulsively again, before beginning her spanking, David Ainsley could not 
suppress an expression of his lustful appreciation of his brunette 
secretary's quivering bare ass. His right palm moved to the huddling cheeks 
and lingeringly grazed them, delectating in the warm smooth palpitating 
satin of her superb flesh as well as appraising its marvelous resilience and 
boldly contoured symmetries. 

"Nooooo! Ohhh, don't do that to me-you've no right, it's indecent!" the 
black-haired young woman shrilly denounced him, her voice throbbing with 
tearful intonations, as with all her strength she arched and twisted, trying 
uselessly to extricate her nylon-sheathed legs out from under his pinioning 
right leg. "I-I'll sue you for this, Mr. Ainsley, you-you've attacked me-I 
warn you, I-Owwwwww!! " 

In the midst of her furiously indignant protests, he had lifted his right 
hand and brought it down sonorously across the crevice of her squirming butt 
cheeks, just above the base. Rita Henshaw's body stiffened, then writhed 
convulsively this way and that, her eyes bulging with horror and shame to 
realize that he was actually carrying out his audacious threat of spanking 
her. 

Now, finding that her frantic jerking of her captive wrist was impeding him, 
David Ainsley locked his left arm tightly round her slim bare waist, and 
energetically resumed spanking his rebellious brunette secretary. 
Methodically, his right hand rising and falling about every five seconds, 
and alternating on the jutting, ripely curvaceous oval cheeks of her 
tawny-skinned bare ass, he proceeded to color her writhing, tossing behind a 
furious crimson after some thirty-five noisy, stinging slaps which 
progressively descended from the tops of her wriggling hips to the welts of 
her charcoal-brown nylons. 

Rita Henshaw cursed, sobbed, threatened, thrust both hands back to dig her 
lacquered sharp fingernails at his pinioning arm, flexed her clamped down 
legs frenziedly and swerved her reddening ass in the most salacious 
gyrations throughout the spanking. Her face was as scarlet as her behind 
when he paused for breath, pressing his throbbing palm down over the sinuous 
shadowy groove that separated her resilient ass-cheeks. By then he had a 
prodigious hard-on, which she certainly must have felt as she writhed and 
ground her furry cunt against his lap in her desperate attempts to evade the 
scalding, burning pangs of his vigorously smiting palm. 

Trembling violently with sexual reaction, he turned to stare at her 
contorted, tear-drenched face. Her glossy black hair was styled in a prim 
bun at the back of her head, which left her nape deliciously bare, and it 
was combed away from her high-arching forehead, making her look very 
sophisticated and mature. But in her present pose, her face as red as her 
incessantly squirming, inflamed naked ass, the muscles of her long lithe 
thighs spasming visibly through the diaphanous cling of her gauzy nylons, 
and the peach-hued narrow tabs of the garter belt which hugged her thighs 
emphasizing all the more lewdly the blazing red coloration imparted by the 
spanking, she took on the aura of a subjugated, helpless female slave, and 
the effect on sexually deprived David Ainsley was gigantic. 

"Ohh ... oww ... ouuuuu, my God, you ... you just about killed me," she 
moaned, still thrusting her hands back against his restraining, clamping 
arm, "Let me go now, I want to get out of her, you-you horrid brute!" 

"I'm waiting for you to apologize for that wisecrack about my wife, Miss 
Henshaw. Then you're quite free to leave my employ." 

"L-leave your employ indeed! Ohh, you haven't heard the last of this, Mr. 
David Ainsley-I'm going to get a lawyer and sue you for every cent you've 
got-and what I said was true-it didn't give you grounds to just about beat 
me to death-now let me up-ohh, this is awful," Rita Henshaw sobbingly 
avowed. 

"Since you're going to sue me, I might as well do a good job once and for 
all, Miss Henshaw," he hoarsely retorted. "It seems the spanking hasn't had 
sufficient effect, you're still insolent! So let's see if another dose will 
get me that apology!" With this, flexing his right hand, then blowing on it, 
he lifted it high, hovered it a long moment, and even as the half-nude young 
woman cried out frantically, "Oh noo, my God, no more, stop it!" he brought 
it down with an emphatic Whackk on the already inflamed base of her firm 
ripe oval right ass-cheek. 

A second even harsher spank, which flattened the lower inner curve of her 
left buttock, drew a sobbing wail from the struggling victim and a rueful 
grimace from her executioner, whose hand was beginning to sting. Flexing his 
fingers again, he improvised by descending his hand with his fingers limp, 
flicking her swollen bottom-cheek as with the thongs of a whip, and a shrill 
cry of distress rewarded him? "Aiiii, ohh please, please stop, Mr. Ainsley! 
That's enough, for God's sake!" 

"You're ready to apologize, then?" he gently flicked his fingertips against 
the shadowy groove separating her swollen hindquarters. Rita Henshaw's 
svelte hips jerked and wriggled feverishly, but, bowing her head, she gasped 
out in a chokingly muffled voice, "No, no, I won't ever give you that 
satisfaction, you brute you!" 

Tightening the crook of his left arm round her bare waist and shifting his 
right leg up over her knee hollows, David Ainsley ground his teeth and now 
began to apply quick little flicks of his fingers all over her angrily 
reddened naked ass, attacking the tender insides of the globes along the 
gradually widening crevice, as well as the sensitive insides of her upper 
thighs. Rita Henshaw moaned and sobbed, writhing even more salaciously, her 
angrily flaming behind sometimes lurching upwards, then wildly swerving from 
side to side, and her fingers clawed at his restraining arm as she tried to 
free herself. A particularly stinging flick of his limp fingers whisked 
between the cheeks of her weaving ass and as he felt them make contract with 
the thick black silky curls of her cuntal fleece and the fleshy lips it 
concealed, he felt a frenzied jerking of his rigid prick. 

"Eeeeeeouuuu, please, stop, stop, oh you're hurting me so-all right-all 
right-I'll do anything you say-only stop," she wailed. 

He patted her bottom meaningfully. "Start by apologizing for that crack 
about my wife, then." 

"Y ... yes ... s ... sir ... I-I'm-ouu-I-I'm sorry I said that-oh, please! 
No more!" she sobbed distractedly, her shoulders shaking. 

"That's better," he grumbled, shifting his leg off hers and lifting his left 
arm from its compressing grip of her bare quivering waist. Rita Henshaw 
burst into hysterical sobs, bowing her head, abandoning herself over his 
lap, her hands feverishly thrusting back as they could to attempt to soothe 
the fiery pangs of her swollen, well-spanked ass. As her body squirmed and 
shifted over his lap, he was agonizedly conscious of the tremendous 
throbbing of his prick, which her soft fleshy cunt continued to rub against 
in this aftermath of the chastisement. 

Finally, with a gasp of distress, she slipped down off his lap and stumbled 
onto her knees, both hands unabashedly rubbing her dark-reddened ass, tears 
running unchecked down her flushed, contorted face. Her upswept skirt and 
petticoat seemed to cling about her waist for a long moment, and his eyes 
devoured the bewitching sight of her exposed cunt, the thick, shaggy 
triangular fleece nearly concealing the twitching, succulently fleshy lips 
of the labia majora, and in the center the suave, pouting, more delicate 
petals of her vulva, a black-and-pink jewel of lascivious allure at the apex 
of her sinuous, long, stockinged thighs. 

He slowly rose from the couch, and in that fleeting moment when conscience 
tries to overpower the forces of lust, glanced down at his savagely 
projecting prick, which threatened to burst through his fly. A she continued 
to kneel there, still rubbing her behind, still sobbing feverishly, he put 
out a propitiatory hand and ruefully stammered, "Look, Miss Henshaw, I'm 
sorry as hell-but you drove me to it-" 

He wasn't prepared for her reaction. Her gray-green eyes, hugely dilated, 
swimming with tears that continued to drip down onto her flushed cheeks, 
fixed on his prick. Her mouth opened and a stifled, incoherent gasp escaped 
her. Then, crawling forward, she flung her arms round his wiry thighs and 
panted, "Oh God, don't just talk, fuck me-oh, God, I need to be 
fucked-please, please do it, I'm burning up for it!" 

"Miss Henshaw-Rita-I assure you I-" again he tried for self-control. But the 
conquered brunette young woman, with a desperate groan, slipped one hand to 
his fly and wantonly dragged down his zipper, reached in and took out his 
heavy, dark-veined prick, then bent her head forward and closed her sensual 
red lips avidly over the swollen glans and applied a feverishly long, 
sucking kiss. 

This done, she looked up at him, shivering fitfully, her right hand still 
clutching his aching shaft, and gasped, "What more do I have to do, Mr. 
Ainsley, for God's sake? Oh fuck me! You don't have to worry, if that's 
what's bothering you, I'm on the pill-please, oh please! You don't know how 
I need it!" 

With a groan of frantic, lustful joy, he lifted her up by the armpits, and 
at once her arms locked round his shoulders as she crushed her moist, 
panting mouth on his, then delved her pert pink tongue deeply between his 
lips, her loins squirming and grinding lasciviously against his bared, 
stiff, swollen prick. Tiny whimpering moans exuded from her, and he could 
feel the hard pears of her tits flatten against his heaving chest. 

As they stood locked in furious embrace, Rita Henshaw lifted one pump-shod 
foot and scuffed her tangled panties down to her ankles, stepped out of 
them, then pressed her cunt even more ardently against his aching prick. 
Trembling violently in the access of his violent rut for this unexpectedly 
submissive siren, David Ainsley stooped, pulled up her skirt and petticoat 
above her waist. "Oh yes, yes, darling!" she breathed, reaching for the 
up-trussed garments and gripping them a loft with her left hand as she 
circled his waist with her right arm, then arched her eager cunt to the 
fulminating weapon of his readied, throbbing prick. 

With a groan of delight, he felt his glans press apart the deliciously 
moist, twitching, willingly yielding lips of her soft pink cunt and gouge 
into the wonderfully tight sheath. His hands gripped the inflamed, hot 
cheeks of her ass, mercilessly kneading and squeezing them as Rita Henshaw 
mewled with masochistic rapture and thrust herself furiously upon his 
impaling weapon till he could feel himself hilted to the balls in her torrid 
cuntal sheath. Their lips fused again, this time his own tongue taking the 
amorous initiative, and he could feel the indescribable torture-bliss of her 
vaginal contractions as they kissed and nibbled and took avid emprise of his 
scabbarded, hard prick. 

Rita Henshaw sobbed with delight as she arched herself away from his prick, 
staring down between their bodies to see its glistening, tight skinned 
rigidity slowly emerge out of her moist, quivering cunt. Joyous now in his 
restoration of virile manhood, David Ainsley laughed huskily and squeezed 
her reddened ass cheeks hard as he pulled her back to him, his prick 
thrusting back into the tight warm volutes of her passionate cuntal sheath. 

"Hard-give it to me really hard, darling-oh, how I've wanted you to do this 
to me ever since I came to work for you," she moaned. 

"Oh, you sweet teasing bitch, you don't know how I've wanted to fuck you 
either-but I told myself it wasn't a good policy to get involved in my own 
office," he muttered, pressing her hard against him till he could feel 
himself delved into the balls and taste again the maddening, fluttering 
contractions of her womb walls squeezing and trying to drain his overloaded 
prick. 

"And now how does my brute of a boss feel?" she tremulously teased, eyeing 
him wistfully, as tears still streaked her exquisitely sulky, sensual face. 

"That's a silly question, Rita. Does that gorgeous rear end of yours still 
hurt?" 

"That's an even sillier question, darling. Of course it does and that's 
exactly why I'm dying to be fucked-now please attend to me or I will sue you 
for driving a poor working girl up the wall," she breathed. 

His answer was to silence her with a hot French kiss, his tongue rubbing 
against her mouth walls as he drew slowly back, then crammed to the hilt 
inside her humid, quivering, churning cunt. Swaying, locked together, they 
began to quicken their passionate tempo as Rita, moaning in ecstasy at the 
harsh bite of his wiry fingers into her reddened, throbbing ass-flesh, 
squirmed and writhed, nostrils flaring and shrinking, till at last she let 
go of her up-trussed clothes and locked both arms to him, sobbing and 
shuddering, her head bowed on his left shoulder as he felt her feverish 
cuntal spasms proclaim her achievement of total, rapturous, hot cum. Then 
with a groan of agonized pleasure, he thrust home a last time and flooded 
her quaking cunt with his viscous jet as she twisted her face to fuse her 
lips to him again, her tongue darting furiously back and forth inside his 
gasping mouth. 

"Oh, God, lover, that was just wonderful," she wanly murmured when the 
carnal storm had subsided, and her knees began to tremble and give way as 
she clung to him, her superb pear-tits rising and falling tumultuously. 

His hands gently stroked and patted her still weaving, contracting oval 
ass-cheeks, as he felt his prick, for all its fiery libation poured into her 
avidly eager cuntal sheath, still stiff and aching. "Forget the damn Xerox, 
Rita honey," he muttered. "I want you again, only this time, take off 
everything and let's have more fun on the couch." 

She giggled softly, kissed him hard, then moved away. "I'll use your biffy 
first, with your permission, boss. But I'll still do that Xerox-only lots 
later-that is, if you still want me to work for you after all this?" 

He began to take off his clothes, grinning at her. "Just try to quit now, 
you black-haired, hot pussied bitch you, you'll get such a spanking the one 
I just gave you will feel like a love-tap!" 

Rita wriggled out of dress and petticoat, reached back to unhook her bra and 
let it flutter to the floor. Then, excitingly provocative in just nylons, 
pumps and snug, narrow garter belt, she walked to the door of the private 
bathroom, turned back to him on the threshold, and, wiggling her hips 
suggestively, purred, "All right, boss man, this time I won't quit, because 
I don't think I could take seconds on that fantailing. But next time, when I 
give you a hard time, don't stand on ceremony. Give me what I need! 

He sprawled on the couch, naked now but for socks, lit a cigarette and 
smilingly shook his head. It was so damn funny in a way; if he hadn't 
thought about Kristina's birthday spanking, he mightn't have had the stroke 
of genius to turn Rita Henshaw from a haughtily efficient secretary into the 
hottest piece of cunt he'd ever had. And maybe, if he'd done the same thing 
to Kristina's blonde mother, she might still be waiting for him to come to 
bed with her. 

Rita emerged in just nylons and garter belt, hurried over to the couch, and 
bent down to him, her widely spaced ripe firm pear-tits dangling temptingly. 
He reached out to cup and fondle them, then impulsively reached up to 
unravel the prim thick bun of her glossy black hair and let it tumble to her 
smooth, dimpled shoulders. Rita Henshaw sighed with pleasure, furled out her 
tongue and began to lick his balls, her soft fingertips tickling his inner 
thighs. With a gasp, he cupped her cheeks and drew her on top of him, then 
agilely rolled her over onto her back and knelt up, playing with her tits as 
she reached for him. 

"Not yet, baby," he muttered as he moved down her lithe tawny-sheened body 
till he bestrode her knees. Then, bending down, his fingers stroking her 
quivering sides and hips, he began to brush the twitching fleshy lips of her 
cunt with the tip of his tongue, then deftly prodded the well developed, 
stiffened love-bud of her clit. 

"Ohh, Dave, oh my God, oh yes!" she moaned, writhing, arching up one knee 
and yawning it to the back of the couch, then lowering it and raising the 
other as her bottom squirmed restlessly, arching up her cunt to his gamming. 

Seizing her knees, he forced them back up against her tits and with a sudden 
thrust, hilted his prick to the roots inside her moist contracting cuntal 
sheath. Rita Henshaw wailed aloud with ecstasy, her feet kicking 
sporadically, her toes twisting and curling, her fingernails clawing at the 
couch, her head turning from side to side. As he moved closer to her, 
thrusting and withdrawing with jerky, rapid strokes, the naked brunette 
secretary draped her stockinged legs over his shoulders and, moaning as her 
climax neared, cupped and squeezed her heaving dark-tipped tits to intensify 
the myriad excitements of this rapacious fuck. 

David Ainsley had just solved one of his major domestic problems-but in a 
way that was destined to create quite another! 

 CHAPTER SIX 

"Know what, Krissie? I'll bet Dad's gonna marry that Miss Henshaw," Donald 
Ainsley was playing softball catch with his sister in the backyard of their 
house this warm May Friday afternoon. Once again, Kristina had resumed her 
jeans and blouse, though she had made the concession to her newly gained 
maturity by keeping her hair in a barrette and falling in a thick, 
honey-golden sheaf down past her shoulders. 

"Oh gosh! What makes you say that, Don?" she held the ball instead of 
throwing it right back, and a frown shadowed her lovely, pert face. 

" 'Cause I heard him on the phone last night when I was in the hall goin' to 
the kitchen for a glass of milk and he didn't know I was there. He was 
telling his lawyer, that Mr. Raymond, that now that the decree was final 
from Mom, there wasn't any reason he couldn't remarry. And you know he 
brought her out to have dinner with us last Sunday, don't you? Well, that 
means he's really stuck on her, see? I think she's a nifty looker." 

"Huh! She's just his secretary, that's all," Kristina sniffed and threw the 
ball back with angry strength. 

"Hey, watch it, Krissie!" her brother grimaced and flexed his right hand. 
"You're not supposed to pitch it, just throw it, see? Yeah, that Miss 
Henshaw's a dish. I'll bet you a month's allowance Dad's gonna marry her, 
you wait and see. Gee, though, it'll feel sorta funny calling her Mom, she's 
real young." 

"Huh! Well, I won't call her that, no matter what he does," she disdainfully 
sniffed and flung the ball back hard again. 

"Hey, cut that out or I'll quit," he grumbled, rubbing his hand against his 
knee. "If he marries her, you'll hafta call her Mom, or Dad'll spank you. 
Yeah," he snickered at the sudden thought, "maybe she'll do it to you too." 

"I'd just like to see her try something like that!" Kristina's face reddened 
furiously. 

"Yeah? Well anyway, I think it's a great idea. Dad's been so down in the 
mouth ever since Mom went away. You want him to be happy, don't you, 
Krissie?" 

"Sure I do, you big stupid!" Kristina angrily retorted. "I don't want to 
play any more. Whyn't you go see your friend Cy and have him take you over 
to that June you're always bragging about?" 

The lanky brown-haired boy glanced quickly around to make sure nobody else 
was within hearing range, then slyly countered, "Sure, why not? Unless 
maybe, though, you'd like to have some fun with me tonight in bed?" 

"Ohhhh! You-you-" Kristina spluttered, turning scarlet to the ears, "don't 
you ever say that again, not ever! I-I only let you do it so-so you wouldn't 
blab to Daddy and your awful friends like Cy! And anyhow, you know it's 
awful wrong to-to do it with your own sister." 

"Okay, I just thought I'd ask-you might want seconds. Wanna know something, 
Krissie? Ever since your birthday, when you started wearing girl's clothes 
and changed your hair, you're real sexy, see?" 

"All-all right. But I still won't ever let you again-you know. Now I'm going 
in and help Mrs. Weidman fix dinner for Daddy." 

"Sure. I guess maybe I will go over and chew the fat with old Cy." 

It was nearly midnight, and Kristina hadn't been able to get to sleep. The 
weather had been unseasonably warm all day long, and she'd put on her little 
white shortie nightie rather than her pajamas, but she still felt 
uncomfortably warm and restless. 

Just two weeks ago she'd had her first period, and she'd been real scared. 
Mrs. Weidman had been there to calm her fears and show her what to do and 
even praise her for becoming "a real grownup young lady now, Miss Kristina, 
and you're going to be a beautiful woman very soon, I can see that." It had 
strangely comforted her. Indeed, she had felt very proud of herself for 
advancing out of the little-girl, childhood stage. That was one reason she 
wasn't being a tomboy with the fellows round the neighborhood any more. 

But what Donald had told her this afternoon was staying in her mind, and it 
was really why she couldn't get to sleep right now. That Miss Henshaw was 
all right, she supposed, pretty enough, but somehow it just didn't seem 
right to have to call her Mom. She'd only had one short letter from her real 
mother, the day after her period, and the news had made her very sad. Mother 
was going to marry that Jirka fellow and move to New York for good, and 
maybe Daddy would let her come visit during the school vacation this summer. 
She felt terribly forlorn and abandoned all of a sudden. 

Pensively she sat up and hugged her knees and stared into the warm darkness. 
I bet I know why Daddy wants to marry that Miss Henshaw. He wants to fu-fuck 
her. I guess a man has to have a girl to fuck or he gets angry and grumpy, 
the way Daddy's been ever since Mother left. But if he does go ahead and 
marry Miss Henshaw, then I won't be Daddy's girl any more. And he always did 
seem to like Donald the best anyhow-then it 'll be even worse and I'll be 
left out like an orphan, sort of. Oh, what am I going to do? 

She frowned and bit her lips, then hugged her dimpled shapely round knees up 
even tighter against her, leaning forward and feeling them flatten the firm 
apply-rounds of her delicious young tits as she pondered this exasperating 
problem. 

Now that I've had the curse-that's what Mrs. Weidman called it, and it's so 
funny-I'm really grownup, she said. I know I am anyhow, 'cause Donald fucked 
me and Daddy almost did-I-know-now that's what he really wanted to do. Maybe 
if I'd made him f-fuck my p-pussy that time, he wouldn't have gone looking 
for somebody like that slinky Miss Henshaw to do it to. Maybe-maybe if I 
talk to him and tell him I want to be his girl and I know how, too, maybe he 
won't marry her after all. I-well, I guess I wouldn't care so much if he 
just-well, just fucked her when he felt like it, but didn't marry her. 

She squirmed uneasily, and shivered as she felt her cunt twitch and prickle 
with tantalizing sensations-the very same she'd experienced when Donald had 
fucked her and when Uncle Bjorn had tickled her pussy with his finger while 
he was shoving his big hard cock into her behind. Then, her face flaming at 
the boldness of her sudden impulsive resolve, she scrambled out of bed, and, 
barefooted, in her thin shortie nightie, tiptoed to her door, opened it and 
peered down the hall. She had made Donald promise he'd stuff some paper or 
putty into that crack in the wall in his room and not peek in at her, and 
he'd agreed. But she couldn't really trust him to keep his word about that. 
She waited a minute to make sure she didn't hear him stirring around in his 
room, and then, satisfied, took a deep breath and, headed down the stairs 
and down the hall to Daddy's room. 

His bedroom door was partly open and she could vaguely make out his big 
double bed. He was lying there and breathing evenly, snoring. Her heart was 
pounding like a trip hammer as she cautiously crept towards the bed and 
stared down at him. He didn't have anything on-or else, since the sheets hid 
the lower part of him, he was just wearing his jammy pants. She tiptoed back 
to the door and closed it. Then, bolder still, turned the key quietly in the 
lock, and moved back to the bed. 

Irresolute for a moment as she faced the most monumental crisis of her 
precocious young life, she hesitated, not quite sure how to go about 
convincing him that he didn't need to marry that Miss Henshaw because he 
could have her instead. As she stood staring at him, she felt the tickling 
in her soft cuntal lips increase, as did the pounding of her heart, till at 
last, drawing a deep breath and summoning up all her bravado, she carefully 
clambered into bed beside him and turned on her left side towards him. 

"Daddy!" she whispered urgently, putting out her right hand to touch his 
cheek. "Daddy, please wake up, I have to talk to you!" 

He stirred, mumbled, then blinked his eyes and turned to look at her. 
"Kristina-what are you doing here, honey?" 

"I-I have to talk to you, Daddy. It-it's just awfully important." 

"Oh? What's the matter, honey, couldn't you get to sleep? I know, it's so 
warm. Well, let me sit up and get a cigarette, okay?" 

"If-if you want, Daddy," she sat up warily, again hugging her knees with 
both hands and shivering as he reached out to the little night table lamp, 
turned it on, then fumbled for a half-empty pack of Pall Malls, and lit one. 
"Now then, small fry, what's the trouble?" 

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at that demeaning endearment. "I-I'm 
not small fry either, Daddy. Mrs. Weidman says I'm grownup and I'm going to 
be-well, real nice-pretty soon." 

"Of course you are, honey. You are already. Is that what you came to tell 
me?" 

She lowered her eyes, cleared her throat, stricken now by a sudden furious 
self-consciousness. But she knew she just had to tell him now or he'd go 
ahead and marry 

Miss Henshaw and then it would be too late. "Daddy." 

"Yes, honey?" 

She decided to take the bull by the horns. "Are you really gonna marry that 
Miss Henshaw, Daddy?" 

David Ainsley chuckled. "There seems to be a grapevine around this house. I 
hadn't planned on telling you and Don for another couple of weeks, but the 
answer is, yes, honey. I loved your mother very much and I missed her 
terribly, but now that she's marrying again, there's no point in crying over 
spilled milk. Rita-Miss Henshaw-is a very fine young woman, and she-likes 
you both, and I'm sure you'll get along just fine with her. Now, it's late, 
Krissie, why don't you go back to bed?" he patted her cheek. 

Kristina stared at her knees, frowned, and then in a small, quavering voice, 
proffered: "Daddy, when a grownup gets married, it's 'cause he wants to go 
to bed with her, isn't it?" 

"Good Lord, who gave you that bit of barnyard wisdom, Mrs. Weidman? I'll 
have to speak to her," he chuckled, regarding his blonde daughter with a 
startled glance. 

"But that's so, isn't it. Daddy? I mean-well, you-you want to-well, to 
f-fuck Miss Henshaw so-" 

David Ainsley grabbed Kristina by the shoulders and shook her. "Where the 
devil did you pick up that dirty word, young lady? Whom have you been 
talking to?" 

"Ouch-please, D-Daddy-you-you're hurting me-I-some of the girls at school 
said it, h-honest, "She fibbed out of frantic improvisation. 

"Then they need their bottoms paddled and their mouths washed out with soap 
is all I've got to say. And I don't want your using that word again, do you 
hear me?" 

Kristina meekly nodded, her cheeks aflame now, her eyes averted from his 
stern, intent face. But the tickling in her soft cunt persisted and as his 
fingers gripped her bare shoulders, her own forlorn, secret need outweighed 
her fear of his wrath. "But D-Daddy-you don't have to marry her if-if you 
just want a g-girl to go to bed with-I mean-you don't 'cause-'cause I can be 
your girl-" 

"Kristina Ainsley. What's got into you anyhow?" he peered at her 
incredulously, still holding her shoulders with digging fingers that made 
her wince but also shiver out of a secret, subconscious urge she herself 
could not possibly explain. "I'm sorry you heard about Rita-Miss 
Henshaw-from someone else rather than from me. I can imagine you're upset 
because of the divorce and everything, but we'll have a nice long talk about 
it all, when she's over here and then-" 

"You-you don't understand, though, Daddy," she stammeringly interposed, 
twisting to kneel up and face him, as her hands took hold of his and she 
blushingly stared into his widened, worried eyes. "I mean-you-you can f-fuck 
me, Daddy, then you won't have to marry her to-to have somebody to do it to, 
don't you see?" 

"My God, I-" his voice failed him as he regarded her with dazed 
stupefaction. 

Hastening to press home her advantage in this moment of his apparent 
hesitation, the lovely blonde teenager finished, "You see, Daddy, I-I know 
what-what f-fucking is-'cause-well, I did it-" 

"Kristina, have you gone stark staring raving mad?" he shouted, shaking her 
again till her honey-gold hair danced about her dimpled shoulders. "I warned 
you, I don't like that kind of language from a nice young girl-" 

"But it's true, Daddy," she bravely nodded without taking her eyes from his 
taut, flushed face, "I did it-and you know something? You-you really wanted 
to do it to me yourself, the night of my birthday when-when you sp-spanked 
me-" 

"Oh my God!" he ruefully groaned. "Honey, I thought we were going to forget 
all about that-I went crazy for a time here, I'm sorry, you know that-but 
don't tell lies just because you're upset about my getting married again, 
baby? Now stop this nonsense and go back to sleep!" 

Again she shook her head. "Uh uh. I'm not making it up, Daddy, honest I'm 
not. I-I did it with a boy, Daddy, and ... and he used one of those white 
things you put on-on your c-cock when you f-fuck somebody." 

"If I hear another word, young lady, I'm going to take the hairbrush to your 
bottom and make you regret making up such a colossal lie. Now look, I-I 
understand why you're doing this, but I told you we'd talk it over sensibly 
in the morning." 

Kristina began to sniffle. "You don't believe me. You think I'm just a silly 
little girl. Well, I'm not. I'm grownup, Daddy. And you can spank me if you 
want, but I did so tell the truth-I did get f-fucked! Want-want to see me?" 
And with this, she lofted her shortie nightie, pulled it over her head and 
tossed it to the floor, then confronted him on her knees, her face scarlet 
and tearstained. 

David Ainsley turned red and started to speak, but couldn't. His eyes 
riveted on his daughter's budding apple-round tits with their dainty coral 
tidbits in the center of the delicate narrow aureolae, on the soft nook of 
her bellybutton, on the silky dark-golden curls which framed the plump pink 
citadel of her tempting young cuntal mound, on the quivering, long 
satiny-sheened thighs which parted in her shamefaced yet proud offertory of 
her girlish nakedness. Gradually, the horrifying realization came to him: 
how else would she have known about the condom if it hadn't happened to her? 

And then a kind of jealous, selfishly possessive rage began to build in him, 
along with the throbbing ache and swelling of his prick to think of the 
naked lovely young nymph in such terms and, mostly, to think that someone 
else had tasted the succulent sweetness of her virgin cunt, when it had only 
been by Herculean self-control on the night of her birthday that he had held 
himself back at the last possible moment from taking her cherry himself. 

Before he could think rationally, acting solely out of blind, jealous 
impulse, David Ainsley had thrust his right forefinger between the soft 
pouting pinks of Kristina's tender cuntal lips, and burrowed to the knuckle. 
"Christ-you were telling the truth, weren't you? Why, you little slut 
you-who was it? Who fucked you, Kristina? I want to know, d'you hear?" 

"I-I won't tell you, Daddy-you-you'd only be mad at him and hurt him-and 
besides, he-he didn't get me into trouble-like I said-he-he used one of 
those white things he says stops having babies!" Pale and trembling, but 
courageous, Kristina faced her aghast father, naked on her knees, while his 
eyes glitteringly fixed her taut, anxious, lovely face and his finger 
remained hilted inside her twitching cunt. 

"Oh, you won't? We'll see about that, young lady!" he finally growled. 
Getting off the bed, clad only in thin white cotton pajama shorts, he strode 
to his dresser, picked up a black wooden hairbrush and went back to the bed 
where Kristina cowered, wringing her hands and staring apprehensively at the 
ominous smooth-backed, oval-shaped implement of her imminent chastisement. 

He swung himself onto the bed and seated himself in the middle, then gripped 
Kristina's left wrist and yanked her over his lap, his left palm pressing 
down hard on the center of her smooth pink deeply-hollowed back to hold her 
down to penance. Then, patting her huddling bare ass-cheeks with the flat 
back of the hairbrush, he hoarsely declared, "I'm going to get it out of you 
one way or another, young lady, so when you've had enough, you can just tell 
me what boy it was did it to you, understand?" 

Kristina covered her face with her hands and bowed her head, abandoning her 
nubile naked body, huddling her long shapely thighs. Already she could feel 
her father's throbbingly swelling prick prod against her lower abdomen. I 
won't tell him I just won't. He can spank me to death but I won't! When he 
spanked me that first time, he got so excited he-he almost f-fucked me then, 
I know he did-well, maybe this time he'll really do it, and then he won't 
want to marry that Miss Henshaw! I know it's going to hurt lots worse'n his 
hand, but I don't care-ohhhhh, that did hurt, awfully! Ouchh, ohh the 
hairbrush is lots worse'n his big hand, oh yes it is! Ohhhh, he's spanking 
so hard, he's really mad at me-oh gosh, I can't hold still, I have to kick 
and wiggle my poor bottom 'cause it burns so! 

The very first crisp Whackk of the hairbrush on his daughter's bare ass made 
David Ainsley's prick jerk and ache agonizingly with the salacious sound. As 
he lifted the brush, the sight of the bright pink oval splotch decorating 
the upper left cheek of her stoically tightened behind sent a wave of 
lustful heat through his viscera. 

Grimly, he lifted the brush again and brought it down on the other cheek, 
then a third, and a fourth time, pausing to contemplate his handiwork. 
Kristina had sucked in her breath audibly each time, her body stiffening at 
the impact of the smooth flat wood against her springy, satiny bare flesh, 
and at the fourth spank her right foot had kicked up and down as she 
wriggled uneasily across his lap, still keeping her head down and her face 
covered with her trembling little hands. 

"I mean it, young lady," he harshly repeated, patting the base of her 
flinching ass with the upper part of the hairbrush. "I'm going to use this 
till you tell me his name! Oh, you're going to be stubborn, are you now? 
We'll just see!" Smack-thwack-whack-crack-smackk! Raising the brush, he 
inflicted five quick stinging cracks all over Kristina's squirming bare ass, 
pushing down with his left palm as her body uncontrollably arched and 
writhed. 

"Oooooooh! Ahhhh, ohh, D-Daddy, it hurts! Owww! I can't tell-I won't-you can 
sp-spank me all you want but I still won't-ouuuueeeeee! Ahrrrr, ohh, it 
stings, Daddy-oooh, Lordie, it stings something fierce-boo, hoo hoo, I 
didn't mean to be naughty, honest I didn'tahrr-oh please, not-not so h-hard 
there, Daddy, oh it's awful-I-I did itooohhheeeeeeahrrrr, oh let up a 
second, II have to talk to you, Daddy, puhleaseeee! Ahrrr! Owwweeeee! I had 
to do it, Daddy-" under the inexorable barrage of hairbrush spanks, Kristina 
could no longer maintain her heroic stoicism. Her hips leaped, swerved 
violently, her feet kicked to and fro in the air, and her writhing gyrations 
rubbed her soft pink twitching cunt more and more vigorously against his, by 
now savagely swollen, prick. As he paused after the twentieth spank, his 
glittering, narrowed eyes laving her woefully bright-red-streaked naked ass, 
Kristina turned her tear-drenched face back to supplicate: "I-I had to do 
it, Daddy-I wanted to-to know what f-fucking was like so's-so's you could do 
it to me and I'd be your girl all the time and-and you wouldn't ever, ever 
have to marry anybody else-there-now you know w-why, Daddy-but please, n-not 
so hard with that awful b-brush, please, Daddy darling!" 

He kept the hairbrush pressed over the crevice of her squirming, flaming 
bottom as he stared at her, his jaw dropping. "You poor lonesome kid you," 
he finally ejaculated in a shaky voice. "It was all my fault you got into 
this mess-first, that crazy birthday spanking and then what I did 
because-well, you were right, honey-a man needs a girl to fuck, and yes, 
that's one good reason I'm going to marry Miss Henshaw, darling. But my God, 
sweetheart, there's a law against our doing what you want me to do-you have 
to wait till you're really grownup, like Miss Henshaw, though maybe not that 
old, and then pick someone you love very much, don't you see?" 

Her hands plunged back to rub and soothe her fiery, swollen, quivering ass 
as she tearfully nodded, beseechingly staring at him. "Y-yes, Daddy, but 
couldn't youjust this once-please-d-do it to me? I want you to-you-you 
aren't married yet-you-you could put on one of those things and do-do it to 
me-you-you spanked so hard, I'm so awful hot, I want you to love me good, 
Daddy darling-please?" 

The hairbrush dropped from his nerveless hand as he stared mutely at his 
precocious naked sobbing daughter. Then he uttered a tortured groan. 
Kristina had drawn back her left hand, insinuated it between their bodies 
and was squeezing the swollen head of his violently aroused prick. "You know 
you want to f-fuck my p-pussy, Daddy-I can feel your c-cock wants to, isn't 
that so?" she chokingly murmured. 

"All right, you asked for it, young lady!" he panted, rolling her onto her 
back. Kristina squealed as her blazing bottom pressed against the sheets, 
but her eyes were wide and anxious, glimmering with tears of mingled 
discomfort and rapt expectancy, as she watched her father strip off his 
pajama shorts, pull open the drawer of the little night table and take out a 
glossy white condom, then fit it along his bulging, angrily reddened prick. 

"Now just you remember that when I get married, this will never happen, 
honey," he admonished as he knelt before her, his hands stroking her bare 
knees and quivering calves, while she thrust her palms down on either side 
of her, shuddering with anticipation. The throbbing heat of her well 
thrashed naked ass made her squirm her hips in the most lascivious way, like 
a young concubine just purchased by the vizier of a mighty emir and brought 
at once to his bedchamber to be sampled and judged for her carnal competence 
to please. "You and Rita and I are going to have a nice long talk about 
things very soon, because I've got to do something about you. If you're this 
way at thirteen, heaven knows what you'll be like five years from now unless 
we give, you some real parental guidance." 

"You-you can always spank me when I'm naughty, Daddy," she sniffled, with a 
wry little smile through her tears. 

"Oh no," he shook his head with a hollow laugh. "I'm wise to your cute 
little sexy tricks, young lady. Look what happened just now when I paddled 
that naughty backside of yours-now keep still or I'll do it all over again!" 

"Y-yes, Daddy-are-are you g-going to-f-fuck me, now, Daddy d-darling?" she 
quavered in a tiny, scared, anxious little voice. 

He didn't answer, too overwrought to trust himself to speak. Instead, 
drawing her knees lasciviously apart, he plunged his face against her 
twitching, already moistened cunt and began to kiss and suck it lingeringly, 
flicking his tongue all over the fleshy outer labia rims, then slyly gouging 
between the delicate more fragile lips of her tingling vulva. 

"Oooooh-ahh-ohh Daddy-ohh that's so nice, ohh how it tickles my p-pussy-ohh 
Daddy darling, I can't k-keep s-still when you're doing that to my 
p-pussy-ahh-ouu-ohhhhh I have to wiggle and kick and tell you what it feels 
like-ouu--ahh-Daddy-ahh-hoooh Lordie-ohh, I'm going to faint if you keep 
d-doing that to my p-pussy, Daddy darling-eeeeekoohhh-ouuuuu Daddddddyyyyy!" 

She lifted herself with her palms, head tilting back till her soft throat 
was a taut pink-fleshed arc, the pulse hollow throbbing wildly. Her tits 
arched up, dusky-stiffened points jabbing at the air as her body vibrated 
and threshed, her hips swerving lewdly and uncontrollably as his tongue now 
concentrated on her diminutive, sensitive clit. 

"Ohhh-ahhhhhhh-D-Daddy," she moaned, delirious with excitement, "f-fuck my 
pussy now, oh do it now, I want you to, oh puhlease, Daddy darling, fuck 
your girl!" 

He straightened, then cupped her burgeoning, heaving tits and moved between 
her straddled, shaking thighs, his white-sheathed prick rubbing lightly 
against the moist pink twitching gape of her frantically yearning young 
cunt. "Ohh-ohh-y-yes, put it into my pussy, oh put it all in, Daddy!" she 
breathed, arching herself up frantically with her palms, trying to grant him 
easier access, stretching her long sleek pink-sheened thighs as far apart as 
she possibly could. Her dark-blue eyes wide and unwaveringly fixed on his 
massive weapon. 

David Ainsley moved forward, his glans disappearing slowly as the fragile 
pink lips of Kristina's young wanton cunt absorbed the adamant intruder. She 
moaned with delight at the stretching, rasping sensation it inflicted on her 
tight sheath, closing her eyes, her nostrils dilating and clenching 
spasmodically as her feverish excitement mounted. 

"Am I hurting you, sweetheart?" he solicitously panted, halting halfway 
inside her quaking cunt, his hands kneading her jouncy warm young tits. 

"Oh nooo! Ohh please, do it hard-f-fuck my pussy hard, Daddy! Oooh, my 
bottom hurts so, f-fuck me hard so I won't feel it so much, please, Daddy!" 
Kristina huskily exhorted. 

With a shuddering groan, her father slowly stretched himself out over the 
passionate young naked teenager, burrowing his prick to the balls inside her 
churning cunt. 

Ohhh it's so good, so much bigger'n harder'n Donald's-oh, my Daddy's fucking 
my pussy, he really is, I'm so happy, I want to be his girl to fuck, even if 
he does go ahead and marry that Miss Henshawoooh, mmmm, it's just heaven ... 
I can feel my pussy kissing my Daddy's big s tiff cock, yes lean-it's so 
tight inside me, it's open- 

HQing my little pussy so! Oohhh, ouuuuu, I'm rubbing my sore bottom on the 
sheets and it makes me get hotter all the time-oohhh, Daddy's fucking his 
Kristina and I wont ever, ever tell Donald, but if he hadn't shown me, I 
wouldn't ever have known how lovely it is! 

Fearful that he might crush the naked young girl with his weight, David 
Ainsley clutched her by the hips and rolled her over atop him, as she 
squealed with surprise and delight to find herself staring blushingly down 
at him. "Am I doing it right for you, Daddy dearest?" she begged with a 
happy little giggle. 

"You're wonderful, Krissie angel," he groaned, grinding his teeth to hold 
back the maddened urge to explode, feeling her narrow warm cuntal walls 
clench and flutter against his achingly imbedded prong. His hands slipped 
down to her hairbrush-heated ass-cheeks and savoringly palpated the 
luscious, tingling, reddened flesh. 

"Oooh, Daddy, it-it's still awfully sore there-b-but it feels good just the 
same," she whispered, and with a happy little sob, crushed her moist soft 
mouth on his, parting her lips and out of deliciously spontaneous impulse 
foraging her pert pink tongue inside his panting mouth. 

"Sweetheart, wiggle up and down on me," he whisperingly instructed slipping 
a forefinger into the sinuous crease between her inflamed buttocks to brush 
the furtive, crinkly petals of her ass hole. 

Oooooh, I wonder what Daddy would think if I dared tell him Uncle Bjorn put 
his big hard cock into that place too! Oh gosh, what an awful lot of secrets 
I've got to keep-but I'll bet that Miss Henshaw won't be able to f-fuck 
Daddy any better'n I do, I'll just bet! Oooh, it's so lovely, I'm wiggling, 
just like Daddy said to do, and I can feel his cock rub and push back and 
forth in my hot pussy-ouuu, something's happening, to Daddy's cock, it's 
jerking and-oooooh, ohhhhhh I'm going to faint, I just know I am, 
everything's getting so dizzy inside of me, ohhh, it's so wonderful, ohhh 
now Daddy knows what a nice pussy his girl has for him to fuck! 

His fingers had dug into her swollen butt-cheeks as he felt himself explode, 
and Kristina, sobbing, writhing uncontrollably, clutched at his flushed 
cheeks as she experienced the quaking tumult of her answering hot cum. 

"There," he gasped, "now you put on your nightie and go right to bed and 
don't ever let me catch you doing this again." 

Slowly, shivering with erotic aftermath, the naked blonde teenager wriggled 
off his still shuddering body, sat on the edge of the bed, then archly 
looked back at him. "Is it all right if I have a boyfriend, then, if I can't 
have you, Daddy?" she petitioned with a teasing little smile. 

"Don't you dare," he exclaimed, reaching for the discarded hairbrush. 

"Oooh, I'm going, I'm going, Daddy," Kristina giggled as she hastily donned 
her shortie nightie and scampered to the door. Then, as she opened it, she 
whispered saucily, "Only if you ever want to f-fuck my pussy again, Daddy, 
all you have to do is say so!" 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

"You really do have a problem on your hands, David dearest," Rita Henshaw 
giggled as she crouched on all fours between his sinewy, hairy naked thighs 
and lovingly fondled his rising prick with both soft slim hands, 
lasciviously swaying her hips from side to side to let him enjoy the sight 
of her thick-fleeced cunt and her widely spread off-black-nylon-sheathed 
thighs. Clad only in garter belt and nylons, his black-haired secretary, now 
his fiancee, had cooked him dinner this Friday evening in her Near North 
Side apartment and then, leaving the dishes in the sink, eagerly undressed 
to play the role of love-slave to her adored lord and master-to-be. 

"Yes, I do, and I admit it baffles me, Rita." He hadn't told her the entire 
story about Kristina, of course. He couldn't be sure how she might react. 
He'd only said that Kristina had turned very jealous at the news of his 
plans to remarry and had shown him an unusual amount of affection to prove 
he didn't need a wife. 

"One thing you could do," she murmured, "is to send Donald away to a private 
school, or maybe a military school. I've a hunch there's a sibling rivalry 
there and Kristina feels he's your favorite." 

"You may be right about that. And Don would like the idea of a military 
school, seeing how crazy he seems to be about his R.O.T.C. at Selmar High." 

"That's perfect. And about Kristina, Dave lover, if she stays home with us 
and knows she's loved by us both, that ought to make her less jealous. 
Besides, I've got another idea about that, but I'll wait till we're married. 
Right now, I need my guy, I've needed him all week." She cuddled his prick 
between her palms, bent her head to implant a wet, prolonged kiss on his 
throbbing glans, and crawled over him, her legs lewdly straddled, till she 
was over his up-tilting, inflamed prick. Retaining hold of it at the scrotum 
with her left hand, she parted the fleshy moist palpitating lips of her 
ardent cunt with right thumb and forefinger and slowly lowered herself upon 
his rigid weapon. "Ooooh, darling!" she breathed rapturously as she felt his 
taut-skinned prick gouge upwards, frictioning her torrid sheath, then slowly 
sank down till he was buried in her to his heavily laden balls. 

Now, balancing herself with her palms on either side of his hips, she arched 
and lowered herself, turning her svelte tawny-sheened hips lubriciously so 
as to make his prick scrape the sides of her burning cuntal cavern, her 
breasts dangling and shuddering, their nipples dark and flinty-tipped with 
passion. 

"And to think I held off all those months just because you worked for me," 
David Ainsley gasped, reaching up to squeeze and cup Rita's juicy pear-tits. 

"I'd like to go on working at least a few months after we get married, Dave 
dearest," Rita reached back to undo the prim bun of her raven hair and let 
it tumble in a soft silky swathe down her lovely, sculptured bare back. "But 
I'll want to help choose my replacement-and it'll be a mature woman you 
won't be tempted to spank and then fuck." 

"Rita Henshaw, I never thought a word like that was in your vocabulary," he 
teased, arching up to grind his pelvic basin to hers and feel the glorious 
throbbing tight cohesion between prick and eager clamping cunt. 

"There's lots about me you don't know yet, and I'm saving it for when you've 
made an honest woman out of me," she purred. "I just love being fucked this 
way, but it's a little wearing on my leg muscles-has your slavegirl her 
master's permission to lie on top of him and go on from there?" 

"Yes, slave-girl, only you'll pay the penalty," he chuckled as Rita felinely 
stretched out over him, slipping her slim hands under his bottom, and slyly 
goosing him as she moaned to feel his prick throb and dig to the hilt inside 
her churning cuntal sheath. 

"I'm ready, just do it hard and make me cum, sweetheart," she whispered as 
she glued her mouth to his and shivered voluptuously as she felt him lock 
his left arm tightly round her waist, then palpate her tensing oval 
ass-cheeks with his right palm. 

"Slave-girl, I sentence you to be spanked on your naked bottom till you make 
me cum," he hoarsely announced as he lifted his right hand, then brought it 
down hard on the top of her left bottom-cheek. 

"Oooh, your slave-girl felt that one, master," Rita huskily whispered as she 
began sinuously to arch and squirm over David Ainsley's naked loins, 
regulating the in and out progression of his delving prick, her eyes starry 
and humid with a masochistic fervor. Her fingertip nudged his anus, edged 
between the puckering lips, and he inflicted a pair of noisy slaps on her 
right bottom globe which left bright crimson splotches on the tawny-satiny 
skin and drew stifled, excited gasps from the voluptuous young brunette. 
Rita at once quickened her wriggling gyrations, foraging her forefinger to 
the hilt inside his ass hole and waggling it back and forth. Groaning with 
lustful pleasure, David Ainsley began to spank her haphazardly, and soon her 
gasps and sobs of excited bliss mingled with his moans of rutting ecstasy as 
her lithe svelte body threshed and ground, arched and squirmed, hips weaving 
furiously as her buttocks took on a brilliant red hue from hip0slopes to the 
tops of her stockinged thighs. 

"Ohhh, darling-ahh-David, ooooh, I'm going to cum-oh I can't help it, ohh my 
bottom, ohh master, it's so good, is it nice for you-ahhh-lover, harder, 
thrash my naughty bare ass hard as you can now," Rita fairly shouted as she 
writhed and twisted, whimpering, head tilting back, eyes starry and humid. 

With a bellow of fulfillment, David Ainsley felt himself burst volcanically 
inside her quaking cuntal sheath, as his right hand applied a last furious 
pair of sonorous smacks to her flaming oval-cheeked ass, and Rita's hips 
bucked and jerked frenetically as she joined him in the turbulent, 
shattering climax of mutual orgasmic joy. 

It was the second week of June, and David and Rita Ainsley had just returned 
from a two-week honeymoon in Acapulco. Donald had been treated to a camp 
vacation in Estes Park, Colorado, joining a group of youngsters his own age 
who were a contingent from the military school in which he would be enrolled 
this September. Old Mrs. Weidman had looked after Kristina, who, to tell the 
truth, had moped about a good deal of that two weeks, dolefully pondering 
the consequences of being under the possibly repressive thumb of her new, 
young stepmother. 

This bright warm Sunday afternoon, Rita had invited her new stepdaughter to 
help her unpack, and in the suitcases, to Kristina's delighted surprise, 
there were several colorful presents bought in Mexico, a multi-colored shawl 
and a pair of bright-beaded zapatillas, moccasin-like slippers. 

"Those are from me, honey," Rita gently explained. "Now I wanted to have 
this little chat with you all alone, big-girl talk, because I know how you 
feel about your father." 

Kristina's cheeks turned a flaming red and her eyes went very wide. "You-you 
do?" 

"Of course, sweetheart. Believe me, I understand it. After all," the svelte 
brunette woman winked, "your father is a very sexy man, that's how he got me 
to say yes. And you're growing up to be such a fine, beautiful young woman, 
it's perfectly understandable that you should fall in love with him." 

Kristina shifted her feet nervously, stared down at the floor, discomfited 
and not certain what to say. 

"I know you want to be loved, honey, and that's natural too," Rita went on 
softly, an arm round the blonde teenager's waist. "But there are different 
kinds of love. And you'll learn more about them as you get a little older. I 
want to let you in on a little secret. I want to give your daddy a baby just 
as soon as I can. Maybe it'll be a little sister, Kristina dear, and then 
you can look after her. That way, somebody very important will be entirely 
dependent on you for love, and it'll be your job to help her grow up." 

"Ohh-do-do you mean that, R-Rita?" 

"Of course, darling. And by the way, I like your calling me that. I don't 
ever expect to take your mother's place, but I do want to be like a big 
sister to you. So you can always come to me with any problem you have and 
I'll do my very best to help you, understood?" 

"Uh huh. R-Rita, I-gee, I think you're just swell." 

"All right, darling. Now, I think I can guess your secret too." 

"Ohh! W-what?" Kristina gulped, her cheeks fiery with embarrassment. 

"I'll bet you've wanted to-well, have sex with Daddy, haven't you?" 

"Ohhhh!" Kristina stared incredulously at the alluring brunette. 

"I'm not going to pry. But tonight, I'm going to ask your daddy if you can 
watch us start your new little sister, Kristina darling. Now that's 
something you can't ever do for Daddy, dearest, but I can. And that, if you 
want to know the truth, is really why your daddy married me." 

Kristina's eyes were shining. "I-I see. Oh, gosh, that'd be terrific-a 
little sister, and I could learn to take care of her and change her clothes 
and stuff and maybe even feed her?" 

"That's right, honey. Now come on, let's finish my unpacking, and then 
tonight, when you're ready for bed, you come into Daddy's room. I'm going to 
ask his permission-but mind you, just this once." 

"Oh yes-oh, Rita-I-I love you so, I do, lots!" the enraptured, precocious 
teenager ecstatically gasped as she flung her arms round her brunette 
stepmother. 

"My God, Rita, you-you mean you actually want to let Kristina watch us 
fuck?" 

"Uh huh, lover. Not only that, I want her to see you spank me and get me 
ready to start that baby sister for our very wise and beautiful grownup 
daughter. Once she has someone to look after, David darling, I predict you 
won't have to worry about her turning into a nymph. But when she's old 
enough for a fellow, her instincts for love and mating and motherhood will 
turn her into a perfect wife and sweetheart in bed." 

"You're amazing, Rita." 

She giggled softly as she reached out to squeeze his already swelling prick 
through his trousers fly. "I told you, you'd have lots of things to learn 
about me once we got married, David lover. Such as, the fact that you've 
already fucked sweet little Kristina at least once." 

"Rita-you-how the hell could you know that, did she tell you?" his face 
turned a furious red. 

"She didn't have to, lover. I could read it in what she said and the way she 
looked whenever I talked about my big strong lover. And now, it's almost 
time for her to come in, so let's get ready for bed." 

As she spoke, Rita began to undress till she stood tall, svelte, sleekly 
naked before her entranced husband. Then she slowly, tantalizingly donned a 
diaphanous black net nightie, a wedding gift he had bought her in Acapulco. 
Then, putting her hands to the back of her head, she undid the stylish bun 
and let her lustrous black hair tumble about her shoulders, arching out the 
magnificent pears of her luscious ripe tits whose already stiffening nipples 
prodded against the clinging black net fabric of the low-cut bodice. 

David Ainsley caught his breath, then began to remove his clothes till he 
was naked. "I'm supposed to spank you too?" he hoarsely demanded as Rita 
stretched out on the bed, pillowing her head in her arms. 

"Yes, and I want it to be with the hairbrush. I want Kristine to hear and 
see my cry, so she'll know I've taken her place as your grownup slave-girl, 
David darling." 

"You're incredible-but all right, you asked for it," he grinned wolfishly. 

There was a timid knock at the door, and Rita called, "Come in, Kristina 
darling." 

The door opened, and the honey-gold-haired teenager, delicious in her 
shortie nightie, blushingly entered, closed the door behind her. 

"Come here and kiss us both, sweetheart," the svelte brunette smilingly 
urged as David Ainsley, not a little self-conscious, stretched out naked 
beside his beautiful young wife, his prick uncontrollably uptilted and 
throbbingly hardened. 

Kristina approached the bed, trying not to look at her father's prick, 
leaned to Rita, who hugged her and pressed her soft moist red mouth on the 
girl's. "Now Daddy," Rita whispered, nodding towards him. 

Eyes demurely downcast, cheeks aflame, Kristina moved to the other side of 
the bed and leaned over to kiss her father. 

Ohh my, just look at Daddy's cock, how big it is-I guess he does love Rita 
lots. And she's awfully beautiful too-and so nice to me, and she knows how I 
feel. I-I guess growing up is more than just-well-just knowing how to 
f-fuck-oh I feel so embarrassed, they're going to show me how grownups d-do 
it-oh my goodness, Daddy said something to Rita and now she's getting out of 
bed and going over to the dresser-oh my gosh, she's bringing back the 
hairbrush, the one he used to spank me with-now she's pulling up her nightie 
and crawling over his lap and handing it to him-he-he's going to spank her 
b-bottom, just the way he did mine-I didn't know grownup women actually ever 
got spanked-he's putting his other arm round her to hold her down for the 
sp-spanking-now he's patting her b-bottom with the hairbrush and asking her 
if she's going to be good to me and look after me so I can grow up right-oh 
myy, he hit her bottom so hard, I know I'd be crying already from that hard 
swat-she's awfully brave, she just gasped a little and wiggled her 
bottom-look how awfully red that first spank mark is, though! 

Rita writhed and sobbed softly as the hairbrush cracked wickedly against her 
weaving, squirming bottom. After ten, equally distributed to the ripe oval 
tawny-skinned cheeks, she panted, "Krissie, take your nightie off and stand 
over in front of me, I'll make you happy while your Daddy finishes punishing 
his naughty big girl!" 

Trembling with an excitement that surpassed any she had had till then, 
Kristina almost automatically obeyed, letting the nightie drop to the floor 
and moving like one hypnotized in her lithe young nakedness to face her 
stepmother's upturned, tear stained face. Rita groaned as David Ainsley 
patted the base of her flinching butt cheeks with the flat of the hairbrush, 
then reached out her right forefinger and began to tickle Kristina's soft 
pink cuntal lips. 

"Ohhhh! R-Rita-" 

"Shh, honey, it's all right, Daddy understands a big girl has to have relief 
when her pussy gets hot-I'm ready, master-give it to me hard for being so 
naughty with your daughter," Rita panted as she looked back to the flushed, 
excited, wiry naked man who had learned her own delicious masochistic 
secret. 

As the hair brush fell with a crisp Thwack, Rita's wriggling hips started 
convulsively, and she slipped her other hand between her legs and 
alternately began to frig David Ainsley's throbbing prick and her own 
rapidly moistening cuntal lips while she continued to tickle the rims of the 
blonde teenager's twitching pink cunt. 

"Ohh,. Daddy, not so hard. I love Rita-ohhh, ohh it tickles-Daddy, don't 
spank her bottom so hard with that mean old hairbrush-I love her, 
Daddy-please let her off-ohh, Rita, you're tickling me so lovely-ahhhh!" 
Kristina sobbed, unconsciously spreading her legs and arching her young 
burning cunt towards the brunette's expertly delving forefinger. 

David Ainsley, beside himself with frenzied lust, quickened the cadence of 
the spanking, the hairbrush fairly bouncing off Rita's flaming, swollen 
butt-cheeks with hardly a pause between noisy stinging spanks. 

Kristina uttered a sobbing cry and sank down to her knees, eyes closed, her 
naked round apple-tits heaving furiously as the flood of cum swirled through 
her. Then, as the miasmic aura of uninhibited passion seethed in her, 
blinking her eyes, she saw her father roll the sobbing young woman off his 
lap and order her to all fours. And as Rita crouched, head bowed, hair 
mantling the rumpled white sheets, her knees wavering, her upturned buttocks 
shuddering and an angry dark-red, David Ainsley crouched behind his 
fervently masochistic young wife, reached for her dangling tits with his 
wiry hands, and with a groan of delirious ecstasy, thrust to the balls 
inside her gaping pink wet cunthole in a single savage, cramming dig. 

"Ahh, David, ohh my God, sweetheart, fuck your slave-girl, cream her pussy, 
give her a baby girl for our sweet Krissie!" Rita sobbingly cried out. 

Kristina knelt, transfixed, a hand rubbing her wet cunt slowly, reviving the 
exquisite, salacious pleasure Rita had so sagely bestowed on her. Mmmmmm, 
now I know what I can do when I start thinking about Daddy and my wonderful 
new Mummy fucking ... I can pretend it's me Daddy's fucking, and my finger 
can be his big hard wonderful cock ... and maybe, if I'm naughty to my new 
Mummy, Daddy'll spank me hard so I can go to my room and pretend this lovely 
new way--
