Chapter 1
My wife Cindy left earlier that morning to visit a girlfriend who lived in the Bronx, and I didn't expect her back till about eight that evening. I don't mind saying that I didn't miss her very much, and I kind of looked forward to spending the day alone. You see, she and I hadn't been getting along too well, and the less I saw of her the better I felt. We had that kind of a marriage, if you know what I mean. A real loser.
After eating a light breakfast consisting of toast and juice, I plopped down in my favorite leather chair and started to work on the Times crossword puzzle, which is what I generally do most Sunday mornings when the weather looks bad. I was perfectly comfortable, and the subject of sex was the farthest thing from my mind when suddenly my daughter Glenda came out of her room and sat down on the couch opposite from me.
"Good morning, Daddy," she said, and then opened up her schoolbook and started to work on her weekend assignment. She was wearing a pair of tight woolen shorts and a thin cotton blouse which clung to her budding young breasts just delightfully. Although she was only fifteen, it seemed to me at the time that she looked much older. In fact, it was almost as though a perfect stranger was sitting opposite me. She was a big girl, and very developed, with a round, curvy body that could make a man's head turn till it was spinning.
It was a lazy Sunday morning, and a cold October wind blew through the branches outside, as a fight snow powdered the street curb. I tried to concentrate on my puzzle, but I found my eyes wandering again and again to Glenda's body. Almost instinctively, she looked up at me and she smiled.
"Do you think that I'm beautiful, Daddy?? " she asked.
If I had any sense, I would have gotten up and started to run. I must have known all along where it was leading, but I couldn't control myself. It was as though I was staring down the side of a cliff, inching closer and closer toward the edge, when I should have been backing away.
I don't know what it was about Glenda that was so attractive that morning. Sure she was beautiful and sexy. But it was more than that, much more. She had that look in her eye that was a devilish mixture of innocence and evil, which is the most deadly combination in the whole world.
"Do you, Daddy?" she asked again. "Do you think I'm good looking?"
"Sure you are."
"My friend Janet calls me a cow, Daddy. All the girls in school are jealous of me. They always laugh at me, and call me terrible names."
Suddenly Glenda burst into tears: "I hate them, I hate them, I hate them. I want to transfer to another school, Daddy. I can't stand it anymore."
"Come on," I replied. "You're a big girl now. You shouldn't let any of them bother you. They're a bunch of silly geese."
"I know," cried Glenda, her long brown hair falling softly across her shoulder, onto the steep swell of her young breasts. My eyes stared at them as a wild fever burned in my brain. I could feel my heart thumping, and my blood pressure rising. I watched as she crossed her legs, and for a moment I thought that I saw a slight dampness between her thighs. Of course it was my imagination playing tricks on me, but nevertheless I felt aroused. My hands tightened around the arms of my leather chair as I tried to keep control. Even then, I knew that I was fighting a losing battle, that there was no way to stop myself. Still, I tried to hold out, hoping that someone would ring the bell and interrupt the terrible drama that was unfolding.
"If it wasn't for that bitch Janet," Glenda continued. "Nothing would have happened on Friday. She's the one who sent those boys after me. I'm sure that she told them where they could find me."
"What are you talking about?" I asked
"Oh, nothing," replied Glenda. "I'm sorry that I bothered you."
"No," I insisted. "I want you to tell me what this is all about What happened to you in school? Did the boys do something to you?"
Glenda looked up at me, tears running freely from her eyes: "Oh yes, it was awful, just awful. I'm so ashamed that I could die."
I don't know why, but I was suddenly moved by a great compassion. I felt sorry for my daughter and I didn't want her to cry anymore. I wanted all the bad things to go away so that she could be happy. I got up from my chair and sat down beside her and threw my arms around her naked shoulders. When my fingers touched her flesh, a thrill shot through my body. It was as though I had just touched a searing hot iron, and burned myself. I trembled inside, and Glenda must have felt my shiver because she looked up at me and she smiled knowingly.
"Tell me what happened?" I said, intensely curious.
"Well, it was about three-thirty on Friday," Glenda explained. "I was alone in the Art Workshop, finishing up a clay statue, when suddenly a bunch of boys broke in through the door. They were Janet's friends, and I'm sure that she's the one who told them where I would be, because she knows that I stay after class every Friday to work on my statue."
"Did they rape you?" I asked. "Tell me, Glenda, is that what they did to you?"
"Oh, Daddy, I just don't want to talk about it Please leave me alone!!!"
"No, you've got to tell me what happened. You can't keep it bottled inside of you forever. It'll tear you apart, if you don't let it come out."
"Well," replied Glenda, craning her neck like a duck. "Those boys grabbed hold of me and started to call me all sorts of names. They said that I was..
"Go on, don't be ashamed."
"Well they called me bad names."
"What?"
"They said I was a cock-tease. They said that I dressed like a tramp because I liked to turn men on. They made awful accusations."
"Oh...."
"One of the boys put his hand on my breast and started to squeeze it. Naturally, I was angry. I hit him in the mouth, and I think that I knocked out one of his goddamn teeth. That got all the other boys very, very angry. They tied my hands behind my back, so I couldn't do anything."
"Did they molest you?? "
"Yes," replied Glenda. "I was wearing a sweater and a mini-skirt. One of the boys rolled it up, over my hips, and then he pulled down my panty-hose and put his hands inside of my panties. He slipped his hands between my thighs and started to massage my cunt. The other boys swarmed around me, like bees around a flower, and they began to feel me up, rubbing up my ass and my breasts."
"Those hoodlums," I screamed. "Those bastards."
"It was just awful," Glenda continued. "I tried to scream, but they stuffed my panties into my mouth, so that I could hardly breathe. I tried to lack them, so they punched me in the stomach till I almost fainted."
"What else happened?" I asked. "Did they rape you?"
Glenda began to cry: "Yes, Daddy. They raped me. There were seven boys, and one after another, they fucked me. They backed me up against the wall, and they pulled my legs wide apart, and then they rammed their cocks up my cunt. The awful thing is that I enjoyed what they were doing to me."
"You enjoyed it?"
"Yes," replied Glenda. "While they were doing it to me, I felt a hot shiver up and down my spine. I didn't want to enjoy it, but I couldn't help myself."
At that moment, I could feel myself growing erect. As Glenda related the story of her molestation, I grew aroused. I couldn't help it, although I tried very hard. I breathed deeply and it seemed as though her feminine fragrance filled the air. Of course, my imagination was playing games with me again. Still, there was nothing I could do about it. There was no way that I could control the incestuous feelings that swept across my body. I wanted to bend down and bury my face between her legs, to stick my tongue into her young slit, to lick it and kiss it and bite it just like an animal.
Was Glenda aware that she was turning me on? Was she telling me this story purposely, because she wanted to arouse me and seduce me? I don't know the answer to that question, and I guess I never will know. In fact, I'm beginning to think that she made up the whole story deliberately. Maybe I feel that way because I want to feel that way, because it makes me feel less guilty about what happened next Maybe it's just my way of rationalizing the whole affair; maybe it's just my way of avoiding responsibility.
As Glenda continued to speak, I made my first move. I bent over and planted a light kiss on her cheek. I could taste the salty tears that were coming from her eyes which made my mouth tingle. I kissed her again. This time on her neck She shivered as my arms tightened around her. She pulled away from me, or at least she pretended to pull away from my grasp.
"No Daddy," she said. "You mustn't. It's not right"
"Don't be afraid, honey," I replied. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."
"Please don't," she repeated. I'm afraid."
Slowly my fingers fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. I unbuttoned them, one by one, kissing her all the time on her face and her neck. She cooed, yielding to my touch, to my embrace. When my mouth fell to hers, she opened her lips. I rammed my tongue inside, and she swallowed it. I rubbed it against her teeth and palate, tasting the sweetness of her saliva. Suddenly she went wild, throwing herself at me, pressing her breasts to my chest, biting me with her sharp teeth, rubbing her calves against mine, slipping her fingers into my pants.
The bitch knew what she was doing, as she unzipped my fly and inserted her soft white hands into my trousers, underneath my jockey shorts, reaching toward my organ.
"You're hard," she said. "Your cock is hard as a rock. It feels good."
She reached down and started to fondle my balls. She squeezed them like a little child that was playing with a toy. Again she returned to my erection, following the outline with her fingernails, applying just the right amount of pleasure to make me squirm. Somehow I got the feeling that she had done this sort of thing before, because she didn't fumble around the way most inexperienced young girls do. She seemed to know exactly where everything was, and exactly what it was that had to be done.
"Shall we go to the bedroom?" she asked.
"N-n-n-n-o," I replied.
"Are you sure, Daddy," she asked, hauling at my erection. "There's no point pretending anymore. I know what you want. I've known all along. You've got the hots for me, right?"
"Leave me alone," I screamed. But it was too late. My fingers worked almost mechanically, as they pulled off her blouse, and then her brassiere. I let the garments, still warm from body heat, fall to the parquet floor. Her breasts were hard and round, milky white, capped by red nipples that peaked when I touched them. I massaged her gently and her areolas tingled, and her stomach started to tremble. I rubbed the top of her breasts and the bottom, cupping my palms around them, squeezing them ever so softly, kissing her on her face and neck.
"That feels good," she whispered, throwing back her head and closing her eyes the way some women do.
"You know," I said. "You're a beautiful girl, Glenda. You're a very beautiful girl."
"Do you think that a man can love me?" she asked. "Do you think that I'm beautiful enough to love? Or am I just a tramp? Tell me, daddy, do you love me? Please tell me you love me."
"Oh Glenda," I whispered. "I wish it didn't have to be like this. I wish that this wasn't happening. Please forgive me for what I'm doing."
At that moment Glenda got up from the couch, standing directly opposite from me, her hands on her hips, her back arched, her naked breasts shimmering like two snow white hills.
"Do you want me to strip?" she asked. "Do you want to look at my pussy."
I nodded reluctantly: "Yes ... yes I do."
Glenda's fingers gently unbuckled the belt to her shorts, then she unzipped the front. As the fly spread open, I could see her pink panties, and the tuft of dark pubic hair underneath. A wild, sour fragrance seemed to emanate from between her spread thighs. She bent down and rolled her woolen shorts down her legs, letting them fall beside her white brassiere.
"Do you want me to go further?" she asked. "Are you sure you're not chicken?"
"Oh, Glenda," I screamed. "Why are you doing this tome?"
"I don't know," she replied. "I want you to love me, Daddy. Maybe I want to prove to myself that someone does love me, a real man."
"But this isn't the way," I gasped.
"But I don't know any other way," she replied, tugging at the elastic waistband of her bikini panties, pulling them down slowly, across her milky white thighs, past her creamy calves, down over her ankles. She stood there, completely naked, flaunting herself, like a model, preening, and cantering like a proud mare.
"Do you want to look between my legs?" she asked. "Do you want to smell."
"Yes...."
"Then let's go into the bedroom," she smiled. "I want this to be beautiful, the way it's supposed to be the first time around."
Is it your first time?" I asked. "You never fucked anyone before?"
She shook her head: "No ... The farthest I ever went was to let a boy, Billie, put his hands up my legs in a movie. I let him finger me. But that was all. He wanted to fuck, but I didn't feel like doing it down in his basement."
"What about those boys," I asked. "Did they really molest you, or were you asking for it?"
"No," replied Glenda. "It wasn't my fault. Sure I teased them a little bit, but that was all. I didn't want to have anything to do with that gang of little pricks. I'm sure it was Janet who told them where I would be. Otherwise they would never have known, and they would never have done anything to me."
Glenda arched her back, and spread her legs wide apart, exposing the slit of her vagina to my eager eyes. It was full and wet, red as fire. The drape-like folds of her labia seemed to throb, and her clitoris thumped up and down, full of life, full of love.
She smiled, after exposing her cunt, looking down at my erection, which grew out of my unzipped fly like a flag pole. She walked over to me and pressed her belly against my face. She rubbed herself against me like an animal, bending over and kissing me first on my face, and then lower down, taking my exposed organ into her sweet young mouth. I shuddered, as she started to suck on it, licking it with her tongue, biting it with her teeth, massaging it with her thick, hungry lips.
My hands reached down eagerly, climbing between the mounds of her bosom, past her belly, down to her crotch. She spread for me, so I had no trouble as my fingers lunged toward her heat. I could feel the thick, syrupy sweetness of her femininity ooze out of her vaginal opening, covering me with its sweet stickiness. Slowly, deliberately, I fingered her sexuality, tracing the smooth outline of her vaginal slit, prying apart the labial tissue that guarded the entrance, jumping inside of her with my thumb and then with my middle finger.
"Ohhh...." she cried, biting down on my cock, which made me scream painfully.
"Not so hard," I warned. "I don't want you to bite it off or anything."
"Why not?" she laughed, brushing back her hair, as she looked up at me. My finger was still inside of her cunt, moving around like a fish in a clear blue stream, exploring the depths of her moist, dank cavern.
"I like it when you finger me," she said. "It makes me feel good all over."
She got up off her knees, after giving my erection one last suck, and she stood in front of me, gyrating like a dancer, swaying her hips, revolving her buttocks back and forth as my fingers, still inside of her pussy, massaged and rubbed the sensitive cavity.
I don't know whether she came or not, but I had never seen a woman react in quite this manner. First her knees tightened up, and then her thighs closed around my hand, and she began to jump up and down in the air, like a ballerina, howling at the top of her lungs as she squeezed her breasts.
"Oh, Daddy," she finally sighed, falling on top of me. "Oh, Daddy, you filled me up that time. You made it just right. It was beautiful."
"You sure are a hot little bitch," I replied, picking her up in my arms and carrying her into the bedroom. At first I felt a little self-conscious about throwing her down on my bed. After all, she was my daughter, my own little daughter, my blood and flesh. Then, there was the ticklish fact that she was only a minor, only fifteen years old, innocent and young. I was in my middle thirties, and I felt another pang of guilt. She must have noticed, because she looked up at me from the bed and whispered: "Don't worry about a thing. I know it's not your fault I'm old enough to know what I'm doing. Can I help it if I love you, Daddy? Can I help it if I want you inside of me? Can I help it if I want to feel your cock inside of my cunt? Am I crazy? I don't think so. All girls are like that Even Janet told me one day that she loves her father. She looks through the keyhole when he's undressing, and she tells me that it excites her. I'll bet that she would do it with him, if she had the chance."
"Glenda, poor little Glenda," I laughed. "You're such a little idiot, such a little fool. I suppose there's no turning back now."
"No," she answered. "You've already touched me.
You put your finger inside of my hole. It's too late to chicken out."
I nodded my head, and then I unbuckled my trousers, letting them slide down to my ankles, kicking them toward the door. Then off came my jockey shorts, my shirt and my socks. Standing there completely naked, I got goose bumps all over. Glenda reached out, cupping her hands underneath my testicles.
"They're beautiful," she sighed. "You've got nice, big balls, and a nice hard cock. Come and get me."
I lunged into the bed after her, and we wrestled around on the sheets, until I finally had her down, her arms and legs pinned to the mattress. I climbed on top of her, missionary style, pushing my knee between her thighs, prying them apart. I slid my cock up against her, and she arched her back ever so slightly. At first I had trouble getting it into her because she was too tight, so I had to reach down with my hand and pull open the hole. She screamed a little bit.
"Be gentle," she cried. ""I've never been fucked before. I want it to be nice."
"Don't worry, baby," I replied, as I squeezed open the folds of her labia, inserting my middle finger deep into her pussy once again. Then, with all my might, I rammed my hard cock between her legs, sliding my hands underneath her buttocks, lifting her up to the precise angle. She gasped as I guided it into her. I felt a little sorry for her, because I could see that she was scared. It was her first time, all right, and she didn't know how to enjoy it yet In a way, fucking is like eating caviar. You've got to develop a taste for the thing, which is something that my daughter Glenda had not done yet
"Don't worry honey," I said reassuringly, kissing her on her face, on her rosy cheeks, and on the erogenous regions of her neck and throat. Slowly she started to respond, meeting my thrusts and lunges with thrusts and lunges of her own. Her pelvis started to gyrate, and her pussy was running with juices, sopping wet as the teeth of her cunt chewed away at my cock. She pulled it into her with her strong vaginal muscles, sucking at it, hauling it squeezing it like a child that squeezes a balloon.
The two of us were rolling on the bed, locked in a deadly embrace. In a second, she had me down on my back, riding me just like a stallion. She got up, throwing her hands into the air, her breasts jiggling like two globes, her hard red nipples shimmering with traces of sweat
My horn was imbedded deep inside of her womb, and she was sliding up and down on it, licking her lips with her tongue, sighing with delight
"Ahhhh..." she screamed, at the very moment when I released my load. It shot into her rapidly, thick and creamy as it squirted out. She screamed again and again, milking it out pulling it into her with every ounce of strength in her body.
I reached up and grabbed the pink cones of her breasts and pinched them. Slowly I pulled her down from a sitting position, so that her face met mine. I kissed her gently on her little white nose, and I soothed her damp back with my hands. After patting her gently on her bottom, I pulled my erection out of her.
"Why did you do that for?" she asked.
"Quick," I said. "Go and wash out your cunt. I don't want you getting pregnant or anything. You know, those things can happen. I'd feel like hell if I was the father of my own grandchild. Go on, wash yourself."
"How?" she asked.
"With water," I replied. "How else? There's a little rubber hose in the bathroom. Attach it to the faucet and shoot the water into your cunt. It'll get the sperm out."
"But I don't want to," replied Glenda. "I like the way it feels inside of me. It's nice and sticky and gooey. Does mom use the hose after you're done fucking her?"
"I don't want to talk about your mother," I replied.
"Why not?" said Glenda. "Am I a better lay than her? Tell me Daddy, do I give a better fuck than she does?"
"Go wash up," I ordered.
She did as I said, and I watched from the bedroom as she sponged her sticky cunt in the adjoining toilet. She shot the water inside of her hole, which was a bit ticklish and made her laugh. Then she mopped everything out with a rag, and then she took a little perfume and dabbed it on her inner thighs.
"Am I a good girl?" she asked. "I did everything that you told me."
"Sure you are," I replied. "Come over here and climb up beside me."
"Oh, I love you Daddy," she sighed.
"I suppose."
"Are you angry with me?"
"No," I replied. "It wasn't your fault."
"It wasn't anyone's fault," she whispered. "Why should anyone be to blame? What happened between us was beautiful. You enjoyed fucking me, and I enjoyed getting fucked. That should be the only important thing."
I don't know why, but I suddenly slapped her across her face: "That's not the only important thing, you bitch. What we did was evil. Incest is forbidden, because it's immoral. You're my daughter, and I should never have let things get out of control. I should have stopped myself right in the beginning."
Glenda started to cry from my slap. She brushed her fingers across her reddened cheek, and then she put her fingers into her mouth and started to suck on them. As I watched the tears roll out of her calf-like eyes, like large pear shaped diamonds, I knew that I couldn't be angry with her for long. I put my arms over her shoulders and pulled her close to me.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"That's all right," she replied. "I forgive you."
She looked at me, reaching down with her hands. She grabbed hold of my limp, flaccid penis and started to play with it very innocently.
"It looks like a little worm, Daddy."
"Do you like it that way?"
"No," she replied. "I like it better when it's standing up, firm and hard."
"Then make it hard."
"How?" she teased. "You know how." I replied.
She tickled it very gently, after which she bent over and she laved it with her tongue. She gave it five or six hard licks until it stiffened and grew firm once again. I turned to her and wanted to slap her again in the face, when suddenly I melted. Maybe, I'm just a weak man?
When she whispered: "Take me Daddy," I couldn't resist. I pulled her down and my young daughter Glenda and I had sexual intercourse for the second time in less than an hour.