Chapter 3
After Leo Blake woke up that morning, he called the coroner's office and told them that he was sick. The head coroner had laughed and said, "Don't I know it?" and then had hung up on Leo.
But he had given notice and that was good enough to keep him away from work for the day.
Then the doctor turned assistant coroner wondered what he could do with his day. He could have spent it with Kitty, he thought, but he knew that she would probably want to sleep and he did not like to be around her any longer when he was not beating her or fucking her.
He had come to believe that that was all that his sexy, teen-aged daughter was really good for, fucking and beating.
He wished that he could have been more of a kind father to her, but her presence in that house reminded him too much of his loss, too much of her mother, who had left Leo for that dance instructor. And, even though he did not want Kitty to leave him, he did not want her around him most of the time either. It was a confusing relationship that he had set up with that girl.
He got up and showered and dressed and went into his den for a drink. He had a headache and he wondered why. Then he remembered that he had cried himself to sleep earlier that morning, cried thinking of the good .times that he had shared with Molly.
He took his whiskey straight and gulped it down and let that liquor work on his headache. Then he wondered what time it was. He looked at the clock.
It was only ten o'clock in the morning. He had the whole day to kill.
And he decided that he would take a walk, perhaps go to the park near the house and sit there in the sun and overhear conversations.
Leo liked to listen to other people discuss the events of the world. He liked to overhear other people's opinions. He did not want to discuss those opinions, but he liked to listen to them.
He was constantly surprised by just how stupid most people were and how ill-formed their opinions were.
So he walked to the park and sat down and listened to the middle of a conversation between two fat men on a nearby bench. He wondered why those men were not working that day, why they were not toiling at jobs. They were both middle-aged and look like the type that should be working. Then he remembered that he was middle-aged and he was not working that day.
Leo thought about himself and those men sitting close by and he had a vision: In his vision, all the working people of Victory, Missouri, called in sick on this day, made this day, June 15, some kind of illegal holiday. Commerce ground to a halt. Plant foremen and supervisors and presidents of firms were aghast at the laziness of their workers. There were rumors of epidemics and communist takeovers. Everyone would have been fired for calling in sick, except that there was no one to take the calls. Everyone had called in sick, and everyone had come to the parks to sit in the sun and exchange their stupid opinions.
It was a nice vision, Leo thought. The kind of vision that tickled his fancy and made him wish that the whole world ran so easily and so well.
But his vision dried up in his brain as he listened to the two men talk.
One of them was telling his friend about his ideas on exercise and physical fitness.
"Once a man gets past a certain age, usually about forty, I would say," the fat man suggested, "he should give up all that running and weight-lifting and stuff. Ain't good for him. He don't need to keep in shape. Only fags keep in shape past forty."
"Huh?" his friend asked, rather absent-mindedly, and Leo wondered if the other fat man was actually listening to his friend's silly idea at all.
"Only fags keep in shape when they are over forty. Come here some morning and look at them running through here sweating and puffing like some kind of college athletes. They are all fags, every goddamned one of them. A real man don't have to do that past a certain age. He can sit there and watch TV and yell as his wife to bring him another bottle of beer."
"Guys like that don't even fuck their wives no more," the other man muttered a little sadly.
"Sure, they don't. They don't have to. They know that they are men. Don't have to fuck nobody. They aren't fags, though. They don't fuck little boys or nothing like that. These guys who run through this park every morning fuck little boys, I bet." - "Yeah," the other man said, "probably do."
"What you think of those Cubans?" the first fat man asked.
The abrupt change of subject startled the eavesdropping Leo, but he quickly got used to the new tone of the conversation. They were finished with the fags and the weight-watchers. Now they were going on to the Cubans, who had recently come into the country in boats, seeking political asylum.
Leo had never met a Cuban, and he figured that neither one of these guys had either.
But a whole bunch of them were down at Fort Chaffee, Arkansas, about a hundred miles south of Victory.
"Don't like them," the sad-sounding fat man said. "Don't like nobody much, but I especially don't like Cubans. They are too dark." "Huh?"
"Too dark! They all look like all they do is lie on the beach. Got dark skin like some sun-tanned, lazy, radical college students."
"Yeah, and they rioted down at Chaffee. You hear about that?"
"Sure. I read the papers, don't I? I heard about it. Didn't surprise me when they did that. College kids riot too, you know. It is all that sun."
Leo noticed that the two fat men were sitting in the sun as they talked about this.
But they were not afraid of sun-tans. They were both dressed in white shirts and slacks.
"Cubans and college kids," the sad-sounding muttered. "Send them all back to where they came from."
"My boy went to college," the other one said. "Got himself a degree in something or other and moved to ST. Louis."
"That's the way it is with college kids. When they get their degrees, a place like Victory ain't good enough for them. They got to move up to St. Louis or Kansas City or Chicago or somewhere like that and mix. with Cubans and god knows what else. Your son might even marry a Cuban girl, you know."
"Nope, he is already married. Married a Vietnamese girl."
"Just as bad, except you don't see a Vietnamese with a tan that often."
"This girl is white as ivory, sort of yellowish, but white."
"She will be a good wife , you know." "Yeah. I wonder how many of those Cubans are fags."
"Most of them probably." Leo stood up and moved away from them, chuckling.
He liked listening to such conversations but there was just so much idiocy that he could stand.
The two men had made him think of one thing, however. He had started to wonder if Kitty, his little, sexy Kitty was planning to go to college.
He could afford to send her to college, even on his pay as an assistant coroner, but he wondered if college would really do her any good. It had not done her mother much good at all. Molly Blake had still been a whore, even with a college education.
And she had run off with a college dance instructor, a man who had just come to town for the summer.
When Leo thought of that, the sense of loss overcame him, and he collapsed exhausted onto another park bench.
He looked around, wondering where the other people were. He wished that someone would come by and get into a conversation with someone else so that he could listen to that conversation and not think about Kitty and Molly and all the things that he had lost in his life. He touched his stomach. He was middle-aged but trim because he did not eat that much. But he was not a fag, he thought angrily. He wanted to go back and tell that fat man with the idea about men who kept trim that he was fucking wrong.
"I am not fat," he said, "and I am not a fag either. I fuck my daughter. I don't have a son, but, even if I did, I would not fuck him. I fuck my own daughter and she is a sexy, little thing and that means that I am not a fag."
But Leo could not get up and go back to that man. He could not stand up because of , the weakness in his body, the weakness that came with the sorrow that flooded him. It was his memories that caused all of that sorrow in his body, Leo thought, memories of things that he had lost for certain.
He closed his eyes and remember that dance instructor named Harry, the one who had moved into the little house next door to the Blakes. They had tried to be good neighbors, had invited Harry over for meals because Harry lived alone and probably did not eat that well, Molly explained to Leo.
Harry had been a young guy, slim and wiry and balding and he moved with a sleek grace that convinced Leo that Harry was a homosexual. For that reason, Leo had not worried about all the time that Molly started spending with her neighbor.
Leo had never been quite sure what Harry was doing in Victory in the first place. He said that he was taking off a few months from teaching to work on a ballet. But Leo did not understand why the man had picked Victory to do something like that in.
When Harry left Victory after a few weeks, he did not have a ballet with him, but he had Leo Blake's sexy wife.
Yes, Molly was still sexy even in her late thirties, still strong and young and well-formed. She had taken care of her body too and she had watched what she ate. But she did not drink like Leo did. And she did not want to" fuck Leo any longer. She said that she could not stand him being around her with his alcoholic breath, and she would turn away from him when he approached her even for a kiss.
The strange thing was that Leo did not blame his wife for doing that. He knew in his heart that she was right, that he was not really good enough for her any longer. He had been good enough in New York and he had been good enough when he had been a regular doctor but then things had started to go wrong, terribly wrong and he wound up not good enough for his wife and not good for anything much.
He was reminded of all that he was not good enough for the morning that he got up and walked into the kitchen and found the note that his wife had written for him pinned to the bulletin board there.
"Leo," she had written, "I am leaving with Harry. He dances so well and he needs me. He makes me feel young and alive. You are old and dead, Leo, and you don't need anything but your bottles of liquor."
She did not even sign it. Leo guessed that she assumed he would know that it was from her.
He had run to the little house next door in his anger and he had banged on the door. But then he looked in the window and saw that the house was deserted. The furniture was still there. It had been there before Harry, but the paintings that he had put on the walls and the books on the shelves were all gone.
They were gone and Harry was gone and Molly was gone too.
Then Leo remembered Harry's nickname. Molly had called him Blazes. He had never known why. He had never known what in that balding man had reminded his wife of fire. But he supposed now that it was the fire that Harry filled' Molly with when he fucked her. He supposed now that that fire had been more than she had ever felt with Leo.
The assistant coroner sat down on the front porch of the little house that Blazes had used in his kidnapping of Molly and cried.
He cried there in the early morning sunlight and thought that he had lost everything.
But then he thought about Kitty. Had Molly taken the girl with her? She had not mentioned such a thing in her note, but she might have forgotten to mention it, just as she had forgotten to sign the damned thing.
Leo, in a fit of anxiety, stood up and rushed to his own house and ran into his daughter's room and looked at her.
Kitty was standing in front of her mirror naked, and, when she saw her father there, she squealed and reached for her robe. She put it on quickly and closed. it around her naked body.
But, by that time, Leo had had the chance to see her, to notice how sexy the girl was.
How old was she then? Fourteen, almost fifteen.
She had matured into a sexy, young woman without Leo even noticing it.
But how many fathers did notice such a thing? Probably very few.
And she had been admiring her own sexiness, her own breasts and her own body in the mirror when he had arrived in her room.
Now she was wearing a robe and she was looking at him with her blue eyes wide with surprise. Leo looked around and remembered that he had not even been in his daughter's room for a couple of years. She had posters on the walls, posters of young celebrities that she admired and maybe lusted after. He did not even recognize any of those stars.
But he knew that they were probably famous, and fie remembered the part that a famous but dead celebrity had played .in the wooing of her mother.
And Leo asked the first question that came into his head.
"Are any of these people dead yet?" he asked, pointing at the posters.
Kitty looked around at the posters too and she shivered with the thought of death.
"No, Daddy, of course not. They are all, very famous and young."
"They will be dead one day," Leo assured her. "They will all be dead someday."
"Daddy," she said chiding him girlishly, "you are such a coroner at heart."
Then the father looked into his daughter's blue eyes and told her the great truth of that morning.
"Your mother left me this morning," he said. "I guess she left you too." .
"She left with Blazes?" the girl asked calmly.
Blazes? Kitty called the balding dance instructor by that name too?
Leo suddenly wondered how much Kitty knew about this whole situation and wondered if his daughter was some kind of conspirator in the mess that had been made of her father's life.
He was suddenly angry when he thought that his daughter, even his own daughter, might be against him.
Leo raised his hand and growled out the question.
"How much do you know about your mother and that man?"
Kitty staggered back, looking up at the hand with fear in her eyes, fear that looked so sweet to her father even at that moment. He tried to think of the last time that anyone had ever been afraid of him. He could not think of a time in his life when he had made anyone afraid of anything that he might do. He had been that weak as a man, he thought.
But he was not weak now. He felt strong and powerful with his daughter.
And he stepped toward her, with his hand still raised.
Kitty backed up and stumbled on the bed and fell backwards onto her bed.
When she fell her robe came open but she too frightened to close it, too frightened to move.
"What do you know about your mother and that man?" he asked again. "Was he a fag?" "A what?"
"A homosexual, damn it! I was sure that he was a homosexual!"
"No, Daddy," the daughter assured him. "He was not that. Mother fell in love with him."
"She told you that? She told you that she was in love with him?"
"Yes, and she said that she was going to leave with him."
"Why did she tell you something like that? You are her daughter, just a child."
"She trusted me," the daughter said, her eyes still looking up at that hand that was raised so threatening by her father.
"She trusted you," the father repeated softly, sadly.
And then he dropped his hand and turned and sat down on the bed and started to weep.
"She trusted you," Leo groaned as he put his hands over his face and cried.
Kitty sat up and put her hand on her father's shoulder. Trie father remembered the softness of her touch "at that moment. It had been years since Kitty or any female had touched him like that. For years, he had been unworthy of such a touch and for years females had avoided him.
But Kitty did not avoid him then. She held her hand on his shoulder and she spoke to him with a soft and girlish, daughter's voice.
"She wanted me to come with her and Blazes," the girl said, "but I told her that I would not do that. I told her that I would stay with you. You needed someone. I knew that."
Leo put his hand out and touched his daughter's bare leg. He meant to thank her for doing that, for staying with him because she knew that he needed her. He did need her there with him. If she had not stayed, he would have been so alone in the World that he would have probably died. He knew that his daughter was a reason for living, and he tried to tell her all of those things, how grateful he was and how he would live just for her. But none of those words came out. Instead, he heard himself ask her a question which had nothing to do with his gratitude.
"What were you doing when I came in here, Kitty?" he asked.
"What, Daddy?" she asked, knowing full well what he had asked but shivering now as she thought of what she had been doing. Leo knew all of that. He knew women well. He especially knew Kitty's mother, and this girl was the product of that whore, her mother's daughter.
"You were standing in front of that mirror and admiring yourself, weren't you?" he growled.
"Yes, Daddy," she sighed. "I guess I was."
"You guess you were?" Leo thundered. He stood up from the bed and turned and looked at her and she suddenly tried to close her robe again, but he slapped her hands and stopped them from working. She sat there with her robe open and her tits and her blonde cunt-hair showing in front of her own father.
She was sexy and she was cute and she would be a beautiful woman one day, her father thought.
But she would also be a whore, just like her mother, and she would marry some man when one of her teen idols kicked off unexpectedly. She would marry some man and then leave him for someone who reminded her of fire, someone she would nickname Blazes, someone who should have been a homosexual.
Leo looked around at the posters on the walls and wondered which one it would be. Which of these teen-aged stars would die so that Kitty could meet the man that she would hurt in a riot at his funeral?
Probably the one in the big poster that hung opposite her bed, he thought. That one was lying in a pair of cut-offs in the woods and that one was young and dark and had a slim, hairless body and pouting lips. He was the kind of young sex god who could start a riot with his death.
And Leo pointed at the poster.
"Who is that one?" he asked.
Kitty looked at the poster and then she answered her father.
"That is Bobby-" "He will die one day," Leo growled interrupting his daughter.
"Yes," she muttered, "I suppose he will." "And you will go to his funeral too." "What?"
"You will go to his funeral, just as your mother went to--" "Daddy, Bobby lives in California. He stars in movies out there. I would not be able to go to his funeral, even if he did die--" "He will die!" the father demanded.
"But he lives in California," the girl whimpered.
Leo did not say anything. He was too angry to argue with his daughter. He was the coroner and he knew a lot about death. All people die, even people in California, he knew.
Leo's brow was burning with the wrath that he felt in his body.
It was like a fever in his blood and he wanted to get rid of that fever.
He wanted to do something to work out all that anger that he felt.
And then he realized something about that poster. He realized that his daughter could lie in bed at night and look at that young, sex god and play with herself: She could make believe that he was doing things to her before she went to sleep and she would look at him as younger children said their prayers before they went to bed and to sleep.
She would pray to him? He wondered if Kitty was that much of a hedonist, if she would pray to some Hollywood star.
He looked at her as she sat there with her robe open and. he figured that she was that much of a hedonist, that, even if she did not pray to this young man in the woods, she did the teen-aged girl's equivalent to praying. She masturbated while looking at him there in his cut-offs.
Leo hated that young, Hollywood star, and he thought about going to that wall and tearing the poster down. But then he realized that he could not move. He was frozen there and his eyes kept moving back and forth, looking at his sexy, nearly-naked daughter and then looking at that sex god that she prayed to, that she masturbated to.
And he wanted the truth from Kitty. He wanted her to tell her father the truth about the things that she did at night.
Leo pointed at the poster and asked her the question.
"Do you think about him while you lie in your bed at night?"
"What, Daddy? What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean, slut!" he yelled.
And that was the first time that he used the name, the dirty word, for his daughter.
And she did know what he meant. He could tell that by the way that she blushed and looked down at the floor as she sat there on the edge of her bed.
"Do you?" he asked. "Do you think about him and play with yourself?"
"Sometimes," she admitted softly. "Sometimes?"
"All right, damn it, Daddy!" she said angrily. "I do it every night! I look at him and I think about how cute he is and I think that I would like to go out with him and kiss him! And I play with myself!" And Leo understood his daughter's fiery anger.
He had had no right to ask her such questions about what she did in her bedroom late at night. No father had such a right.
But, now that the questions were asked and answered, he could not stop himself.
He had to ask another question, an even more important one.
"Kitty," he said, letting the word bubble up from deep in his throat, "what have you done with other boys? What have you let boys do to you?"
And, again, he could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew exactly what he meant by that.
"Nothing, Daddy," she said softly. "I am a virgin, if you really care."
The voice was soft now but her anger was still there. Leo felt that anger and it chilled him to his bones.
And Leo knew that she had a right to that anger. He had hardly even spoken to her for the past couple of years. He had been too taken up with his own sense of loss and his own drinking. Now that he thought about it, he wondered why his daughter had decided to stay with him. He had never been much of a father to her. But, for that matter, Molly had never been much of a mother either. And~Leo was still angry too He could not stand thinking that his daughter would play with herself and think about that boy who was in that poster.
It was the beginning of whoredom, Leo thought, and he had no. doubt that in a few years, his daughter would be just like her mother, that she would marry some man and then hurt him by running off with some other men. He knew that Kitty could not really help being that way. It was in her blood, as it had been in her mother's blood too.
"Your mother is a slut," he said softly.
"Daddy," the girl whimpered. "Don't say that, please. Mother loved Blazes. She used to love you but now she loves Blazes and she has a right to be with--" He slapped her hard and stopped her words. He knew it then for sure. His little daughter talked about her mother's love for another man in such an understanding way that he knew she would be just like her mother, that she would hurt a man just as her mother had hurt Leo.
And Leo knew that there was nothing that he could do about it.
"You are a slut," he said firmly. "You are a slut just like your mother is a slut. I am sorry, but that is just the way that it is."
Kitty looked at him with her blue eyes filling with tears.
She did not deny what Leo said. She knew that he was right, her father thought.
Even at that young age, Kitty probably already felt the sluttish things in her system.
She had probably been feeling those sluttish things when she had stood in front of her mirror and looked at her naked, sexy body, her father thought.
Leo looked at her tits and her blonde-haired pussy again as she sat there, still with her robe open.
That was certainly the body of a slut, if he had ever seen one, he thought.
And there was nothing that he or Kitty could do about it. It would just have to be accepted, like some kind of terminal illness that could not be cured.
But, like an illness in his daughter, the sluttish quality to her body and her soul brought out Leo's rage.
It was not really a rage against Kitty, he thought.
It was a rage against heaven, but it worked itself out on Kitty. There was no one else to work it out on. Her mother was gone and Kitty was all that Leo had left.
As his rage grew, he felt his heart throb and he felt that old pain of loss come back to his head.
As his body and soul ached with pain, he heard himself give his daughter an order.
At first it did not seem that the voice had come from him, but he knew that it did.
There was no one else in the room with Kitty.
Kitty did not have anyone else but her father, just -as her father had no one else but her.
"Take off your robe, you little slut," the father said in his pain.
Kitty did not move for a moment. She just sat looking at Leo.
And then the hand came out and slapped her again.
"I said get that fucking robe off," the voice that was Leo's voice growled in Leo's head.
And he wondered for a moment if Kitty had even heard that voice.
But, when she stood up and pulled off her robe, he knew that she had heard him.
She sat back down on the bed and looked up at him. She was completely at his mercy.
And she was the only thing that he left in his life. He could not let her go.
Leo knew that he had to keep Kitty with him, even if it meant making her his slave.
And he wanted to make her his slave. That was the strange thing. He had hardly noticed his daughter for years. To him, she had just been a body around the house, some girl who cost him money to raise. But now she was going to be his slave and he was going to work out on her all of the anger that he felt towards her mother. Her mother had never been his slave. Molly had never been anyone's slave, and Leo thought that that moment that there would come a time in a few years when Molly would even leave Blazes Harry, leave him for some other man who crossed her path and started her juices flowing again.
But Kitty, the father determined, would never leave him. He would not be able to stand that. He would not be able to live in this house all alone.
Now she was naked in front of him. What could he do to prove to himself and to his daughter that she was his slave? That she was his slave and no other man's slave?
Then it came to him quickly, and he shivered with the thought.
And that voice that did not seem to his voice at all gave her the order.
"Lie down on that bed, you little slut, and look at that boy in the poster and play with yourself. Show me how you do it. Show me how you get your virgin pussy all wet with scummy juices."
And, this time, the blonde daughter did not hesitate.
She moved across the bed and lay on her back and looked at the poster and then looked at her father and her little hand ran down her naked body and fell on her young, virgin snatch.
She had to do what her father told her to do. She was his slave and he would hit her again if she stalled for even a moment. The father gulped in some air and watched as his daughter opened her firm, young legs and ran the finger of her hand around the pink lips of her pussy. He could see those lips shimmer in the sun that came in through her bedroom window, and that shimmering, that wet shining of her cunt, drove him crazy with lust and anger.
He fell on her and started to hit her with his hands, to slap her young, sexy body.
And he screamed at her with, that same rough voice that did not seem to be his.
"You fucking slut! You worthless, teen-aged cunt!"
To Leo's surprise, his daughter did not try to fight his blows.
She did not even try to turn and retreat from them. She lay there on the bed, opened and naked and let his hands fall on her in his wrath. She seemed hypnotized, unable to defend herself, unwilling to fight the father that she had decided in her girlish love to stay with.
And Leo started to cry with his anger and with his wrath, to weep as he continued to slap her. He hit her tits and her stomach and her pussy too. She pulled her hand away from her pussy and lay on the bed with her arms stretched out, like some girl who was being crucified on that bed.
Then her father did something that was so mad that it seemed strangely normal and he wondered as he did it why all fathers did not do the same things to their daughters.
He put his hand on her pussy and he jammed his finger into her cunt.
And the girl screamed as her hymen broke with the force of his jab.
The tears flooded her eyes and Leo felt the warm blood of his daughter on his finger, running over him and stilling the wrath that was in him.
He pulled his finger out of her cunt and held it up in the sunlight and studied it.
The blood was sticky and red and warm and looked strangely sweet.
He wanted to stick out his tongue and lick that blood off his finger.
But he did not have a chance to do that. By that time, Kitty was as crazy as her father was and she reached out and took his finger and pulled it down on her and put the finger in her own mouth. She sucked her own blood from her father's finger and tasted the sweet product of her own womanly rupture.
Then she took that finger out of her mouth and started to tremble on the bed.
She tossed like someone possessed by a demon, as if she were a volcano that was erupting with a great, underworld power, the power of hell itself.
"Fuck me, Daddy," she moaned in a voice that did not seem to her voice either. "I want to know what it is like and I don't want to find out from that boy in the poster. Even if I could find out from him, I would not want to. I want to find out from you, Daddy. Please, fuck me, Daddy. Show me what it means. Show me so that I can be a woman."
"Just as your mother was a woman?" he muttered.
"Just as my mother IS a woman!" she cried, emphasizing the word. "She is not dead, Daddy. She is not dead."
"She will be one day," Leo murmured to his quaking daughter.
"But she is not dead now! She is just with Blazes!"
And she continued to toss with an unholy desire in her body and to hold his hand tightly in her own hands and to beg him.
"Fuck me, Daddy. Show me what it is like. I must know what it is like."
And he could not stand in the way of her dream. He could not leave his daughter so unsatisfied. He could not leave her now. She was the only thing that he had in the whole world.
So Leo Blake unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock and was surprised to find that that cock was hard.
And he wondered about his prick. It had not been that hard in years.
Had his daughter, his naked, quaking daughter and the blows that he had given her done this to him?
And then he realized that he was truly mad, as mad as his daughter, as mad as the most demented person in the darkest corner of an asylum. And he was suddenly happy in his madness. If he could mad with Kitty, he thought, then it would be worth it all.
If he could be mad with her and fuck her, it would be worth everything that he had suffered and everything that he had lost.
Thinking that, Leo lay down next to his quaking down and pulled over on his own body and lifted up his stiff, fatherly prick.
She trembled and tossed, but she was little and light and he could handle her with ease. He lifted her up and set her down on his hard cock and he moved her down, handling her as if she were a baby again, bouncing her on his body as he had down when she was only a little girl.
But this time she was not a little girl, he thought.
And this time he was bouncing her on his cock and putting his stiff cock in her.
And this time he was going to fuck her mad cunt with his own mad, fatherly prick.
And that fucking would make everything in his life worthwhile.
Kitty suddenly seemed to calm down when that cock eased into her.
She put her hand on her firm, girlish tits and she moaned with satisfaction, like a girl who had just tasted the sweetest candy of her life.
Her father's cock was soon in her tight, little pussy.
And she moaned to her father in a quiet, girlish voice.
"Daddy," she said, "that feels so good. I think that I am being stuffed with your cock. Is that what it is like to be a little whore?"
"Yes," her father told her solemnly, "that is what it is like."
"Is this the feeling that all little sluts crave, Daddy?"
"Yes, I suppose that it is, Kitty," he groaned, feeling sad and happy at the same time.
The girl lifted her arms high over her blonde head and glanced back at the poster of the boy that was on the wall.
"I do not need him any longer," she said. "I know what it feels like to be a little slut now. Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck my slut cunt hard."
And the good father could not deny his young daughter anything.
He put his hands on her sides and held her while he started to move under her, to buck under her, to give her the fucking that she so desired from him.
Kitty moaned as her father invaded her cunt time and time again and she put her hands on his slim, hairy chest and matched his fucking rhythm with her own.
On that First morning, Leo remembered, she had fucked him like a real pro, a real slut.
And he knew that she was going to break a lot of men's hearts as she grew older.
And he knew that he was preparing her for her sluttish life, preparing her so that she would be even more of a whore, even more of a slut, even more of a cheap tramp than her mother was.
After all, Molly's father had never fucked her like this.
But, Leo thought, Molly's father had never needed his daughter as he needed Kitty at this moment.
Molly's mother had stayed with her husband all of her life and had died just two weeks after he did. Leo remembered. He had gone to both funerals and had held Molly while she cried.
And Leo felt like crying right now, as he fucked his daughter, but he was not certain if he wanted to cry out of joy or out of guilt or for both reasons and other reasons that he could not even comprehend.
Kitty ran her fingers over his chest and thrilled him with her girlish touch.
She seemed to know just what to do with a man, and Leo wondered as he fucked her, as he drove his cock in and out of her, where she had learned all of this. Then he figured that it just came naturally to his daughter, that his daughter had been born with the soul and the cunt of a slut.
And the father did not know whether to be proud of his daughter's expertise or sad because she was such a natural slut.
But then all thoughts and all confusions drained from his brain as he felt her pussy tighten even more on his cock, as he felt it try to strangle that cock and in the attempt to kill it give the prick even more life.
He fucked his young daughter with vigor and passion and love. He slammed his cock deep into her cunt and he groaned and sweated and churned there on the bed as his daughter rode him with an expert, natural skill and ran her fingers over his body and moaned to him just like a real slut would moan to one of her many lovers.
"Oh, fuck me, Daddy. Fuck my pussy. God, that feels good."
And Leo did fuck her, responding with heat to her wicked words and her natural sexuality.
And then he groaned to Kitty with that same hoarse voice that did not seem to be his own.
"I am coming, Kitty. I am coming. Get off me. I am coming."
And the girl moved quickly. She pulled herself off her father's cock and she moved to one side of his body as Leo grabbed his manly organ and choked it until he started to shoot his white semen into the air.
Kitty watched that with the fascination of a child. Her blue eyes grew big and she followed the spurts of come up into the air and then back down on Leo's body.
The assistant coroner and lonely father looked at his naked daughter as he came. .
And he came as he had not come in years. He milked what seemed like gallons of come from his randy cock, and he came and came and came.
Then, when the coming was over, he released his cock and lay on the bed exhausted by his perverted passion for his sexy, teen-aged daughter.
But Kitty did not seem tired at all. She seemed to be more filled with play than ever before, and, with a playful look in her big, blue eyes, she ran her finger through some of her father's white come and she lifted that finger--the same one that was still specked with her own virginal blood--into her mouth. She probably tasted both the blood and the come together, tasted both of the spices, the male spice of semen and the female spice of vaginal blood.
And then she pulled her finger out of her mouth and bent over and kissed her father's lips softly.
She beamed at him like the happy child that she was.
But Leo could not be sure what she was so fucking happy about.
"Thank you, Daddy,"she said cheerfully. "Thank you for showing me what it felt like and for showing me just what I really am."
"And what are you, Kitty," the father asked softly.
"Why," she said, moving up on her knees again and kneeling there on the bed, naked and girlishly proud of herself, "why, Daddy, I am a slut, just like you said."
Leo would have slapped her for saying that except that he was too tired from the fucking and too confused from what he had done to her.
And he thought that she was probably right, that he and Kitty had found some deep dark thing in her soul that morning that had been there always. And he wondered if they had also found something dark in his soul, something that had been there since his birth too.
He knew that the sex of a child was determined by the father, not by the mother.
And he wondered if it was possible to consciously fuck your wife and make a girl-child because somewhere deep in your soul you knew that, in a few years, you would want to fuck that girl-child that you had made. He thought of the way that a potter made a piece of ceramic from a blob of clay and then waited for that piece of burn to hardness in a kiln and then used that piece in his own home, for his own comfort and pleasure. And he thought that maybe he had made Kitty in much the same way.
But he was too tired and too confused to worry about why he had made his girl-child in his wife's womb. He just wanted to sleep.
Kitty crawled over and and stood beside the bed and looked at that one poster, the one that she and her father had talked about, her favorite poster of a movie star.
"I do not need him any longer, Daddy," she said softly. "I have you now."
And she walked naked to the wall and ripped that poster down. Then quickly, determinedly, calmly, she began to rip the poster into little pieces. Leo watched as she tore the handsome boy from the movies apart with a cold calmness in her hand. She tore the boy into pieces as if she were a young and sexy cannibal, he thought.
And then, when the poster was torn up, Kitty brought the pieces back to her naked dad and offered them to him.
She held them in her hands and then turned her hands over and let the pieces of the poster fall on her father and especially on his cock like a dry, paper shower.
The shower did not refresh Leo Blake, did not stop his confusion.
The man stood up and pushed the pieces of the poster off him and put his spent cock back in his trousers and zipped his pants up.
Then he moved silently to the door of his daughter's bedroom. He did not say anything. He did not know what to say to her. What do you say to a daughter after you have fucked her? I am sorry? I enjoyed it? Thanks? I love you? Do your homework now?
He had no idea what a father should say in such a situation, so he said nothing, nothing at all.
But Kitty said something. She spoke to her father's retreating back.
"You will come back to me, won't you, Daddy? You will come back and show me what it feels like again and again?"
And that voice that was not his voice, that voice that came from deep in his throat and sounded like the voice of a man who would beat and fuck his own virgin daughter, answered her as Leo Blake left the room.
"Of course," the voice croaked. "Of course, I will come back."
Leo walked out the door then and stood there in the hallway outside his daughter's bedroom and cursed himself for doing that to her, even though she had asked him to do it.
He was the father and he should have been strong, he thought. He should have been strong enough to resist the temptation.
But he had always been a weak man at heart.
And he shivered when he remembered what that voice that had been his voice had said to his daughter. He knew that that voice had spoken the truth.
He would be back. He would not be able to resist Kitty's tempting ways and he would be back to do the same things to her again and again.
And, as much as he hated himself for what he would do to her, he would enjoy it too. He knew that.
After all, he thought, Kitty was the only thing he had left in the whole world.
And she had fucked that first time like a natural-born slut.
Not even a father could have resisted a girl like that. He smiled proudly when he remembered just how sexy his daughter was.
No man would be able to resist her, he thought, and he was no different than any other man who would ever enter his daughter's life, except for one thing, one little thing that made everything a little sweeter to him, no matter how much he hated it.
That one thing was that she was his daughter and he was her father.
And that would add life to the sex in the days to come. Leo knew that even as he cursed himself and wished himself dead. He knew that there would be life in the sex with his daughter.
And he knew that that life would be the other life that he would ever have now.
He walked to his bedroom and went in and closed the door behind him.