Chapter 2
Up Yours, My Darling Daughter
"Taking it in the ass from my uncle Kent wasn't really that big a thing with me. I mean, I really dug it, especially the ass bit, but the incest thing never really hit me that hard. Not until we'd been getting it on for a few months. Not until I found out my uncle Kent was really my father.
"That one was pretty far out-even to me.
"I was already pretty experienced as far as sex goes by the time I got it on with the man I thought was my uncle. I'd had a cock in me just about every way you could figure it, and just about any place you could fit one. Jim, this guy I'd gone out with the summer before, had even done it to my belly button once. But usually I stuck with the big three-my cunt, my mouth, and my asshole, although I'll admit that the last hole mentioned received much less attention than the other two. About the only guy who'd done it regularly to me there was old Jimmy-boy again-a real pervert. Too bad that his family moved at the end of my sophomore year in high school. Otherwise, we might have discovered a few new ways.
"But I won't go into the main bouts I had with all my boyfriends. Just wanted to sketch a few facts for you, so as to show you I wasn't by any means a virgin when I came into the arms of Uncle Kent.
"So anyway, this is how it came down. Start of this summer-just after my sixteenth birthday, my aunt kicks the bucket. This leaves my uncle Kent with two kids to raise: Kent, Jr., a cute little kid who's eight; and his sister, Lora, two years younger. Since my uncle worked every day driving a bakery truck, he was left with the problem of getting someone to watch after the kids while he was away, what with it being summer vacation. So I up and volunteer for the job of looking after my motherless cousins. Besides, my uncle offered a good wage and there is nothing to do in Nebraska during the summer-at least not in this town.
"My mom goes along with the idea. She's a pretty good egg, me and her are pretty close, and she puts in a good word with my uncle. I'd had plenty of experience, what with looking after my brat brother when he was little. He was easy to take care of then, I'd just whack him one if he got out of line. Since he's thirteen now, and taller than me, though, I've worked out a truce with the brat. He's too big to have his diapers changed now anyway. Although I do wonder sometimes ... takes after my old man. Both of them are wimps. Me and the old lady get along pretty good though.
"I really didn't need her promo with Uncle Kent when it came down to it. He's always been my very favorite uncle. We only live a few blocks apart-have for years. I remember the way he always used to fill my Christmas stocking up when I was little. He stayed a bachelor until he was almost thirty, so he was always real generous with other kids. He'd been real good with his own kids, too....It was sorta rough seeing him all broken up this way. It always seems to happen to the good guys. I mean, why couldn't it have been my old man?
"So it goes.
"The job of looking out after Junior and Lorna turned out to be a breeze. They were pretty well-behaved kids for their age, a little on the subdued side, in fact, what with losing their mother. It was kind of tough trying to answer Lorna's questions about where mother had gone, but within a week or two, she'd put it in back of her thoughts.
"So I spent the days over there at Uncle Kent's, watching after the kids, cooking their lunch and all. Sorta nice for me-they had a color TV, something my cheap old man had been promising for years, but never produced. Sometimes I'd have a girl friend over, and we'd rap and all. An occasional boy. I didn't usually have my boyfriends over too much though. I mean, we wouldn't have been able to ball or anything with the kids around. So I saved that action for nights at the drive-in. Shit, I don't know how many times I've gone to see the same movie over again there-ending up missing the whole thing again while some guy sticks it to me in the back seat.
"Uncle Kent was really good to me. He's a great guy-even with the tragedy of my aunt's death so recent in his mind, he always managed a smile for me and the kids every afternoon when he came home from work, usually greeting me with something like, 'How's my favorite niece today?' He even took to giving me a big hug and kiss sometimes when he came home, just the way he had when I was real little.
"Somehow I'd get all melty inside when he'd do that. It was something special, nothing like the feelings I'd get when one of my boyfriends would put the same move on me. No, this was different-something surreal. Like you know how girls get a fantasy thing going with an older man sometimes? It was like that. Somehow Uncle Kent was my fantasy when I was younger. And, what with being thrown into closer contact with him, it seemed to give new life to the fantasy. Like it was all in my head. Just a fantasy thing that I'd pull the strings to sometimes when I was daydreaming. I guess lots of girls have them, maybe fantasying about going to bed with their favorite uncle, teacher-someone older like that. But I never really thought I'd ever get a chance to actualize these meanderings of my mind. I'd get feeling guilty about it even when I fantasied too hard about it. You know, they have words for things like that.
"But this strange thing was beginning to happen as time went on. I don't know exactly when it was that I began to have some suspicions that the feelings were reciprocal, but it began to dawn on me after a month or so of sitting with my little cousins that maybe, just maybe, my uncle had been having some of the same kind of fantasies about me.
"At first, I thought my uncle's little gestures were quite harmless, so to speak. Like he'd treat me real nice and have me stay for dinner, or maybe just sit around and talk. I got a few flashes for my fantasy to play with, thinking that maybe he was coming on to me, but I'd usually rationalize them away, figuring it was just me.
"But before I knew what was happening, we drifted past the fantasy to reality. Him shoving that cock of his up my asshole until I couldn't see up for down. Once we got past the barriers that stood in our way, we were able to get down to it.
"I can still feel the way he'd put those knuckles of his up my ass, priming me for the big show to come. His free hand manipulating my boobies, my neck, hair, thighs-getting me all sticky to receive his graveyard kiss. Then the burning shot as he pushed that hot prickhead through the rubber ring of fire, lunging forward till it like to split my guts in two. Me humping back my hips in effort to free myself from that big pole, but it keeps sawing, sawing ... steady in its purpose to follow me down to the blackest hole of my closet's corner.
"So he gets me into the ass route all the way. Smearing the white shots of his Big John the Conqueroo all over my insides like a spray gun. Then, sometimes, smearing the ooze that runs out after he uncorks it all over my buns with his hands.
"Or I'd suck him off, not caring about the craphouse double-seater we'd been sharing. 'Cause he made it all smell like roses to me.
"It did take us awhile though, like I said, to jump the first hurdle and run for the post. The situation in hand, awkwardly absurd, called for somebody to take control-and he did.
"But it wasn't long before he became more obvious. Oh, he started coming on with sort of harmless sayings-little off-the-cuff remarks with double meaning. He was starting to get his sense of humor back-the more time that separated him from the shock of Aunt Fritzi's passing, the more smiles I could draw out of him. Slowly but surely he was regaining his stride. And he was getting horny.
"It was one night about six weeks after I'd been sitting for him when it happened. I'd stayed late, a habit I was developing, especially on weeknights when I didn't have a date. It was sort of fun sitting there and rapping with Uncle Kent, me sort of beating off my fantasies all the while. But this night, I stayed later than usual, and Uncle Kent had tucked the kids in for the night.
"After he'd put the kids to bed, Uncle Kent had taken a quick shower. I was watching this show on TV when Uncle Kent comes padding in from the bathroom in his jockey shorts. I don't think too much about it. I'd seen him in his shorts before-you know, in the family and all. Besides, it's a pretty hot night.
"'It's a pretty hot night,' he tells me as he sits down beside me and opens a brew.
"But somehow, him sitting there in his briefs gets to me, makes me feel all for nosing that door.
"Instead, and I don't know just how, but my mind started floating way off high in space somewhere. But during this mind trip, my head seeming to swim away from the actuality of the situation, my uncle began to actualize a situation that seemed to surpass even my wildest fantasies-he was really interested in me the same way I was in him. And his sudden presentation of this reality, beginning with racy innuendos, then moving on to more direct requests, invaded my dreams with such force as to make me seek refuge in an out-of-control retreat-at least for long enough to let my nerves shift gears from unreal to real. During my hiatus, words spoken by my uncle Kent seemed jumbled like a jigsaw puzzle, the timing warped somehow by the distortions of my own reeling senses.
"'Suck your pussy?'
"'Like my weenie up your ass?'
"'Gee, you're swell."
"Like I couldn't seem to keep the sequential order together-his words hitting me with the weight of a judge's gavel as if I were hallucinating the whole thing, standing naked before my own dreams, guiltily invisible before him. I caught myself pinching my arm to make sure it was really happening, that I wasn't being overcome with my own fantasies and altering the situation as I sat there. But sure enough-he was actually doing it. Yet my brain still couldn't cope with this sudden materialization-all too good to be true. So I kept tripping away, my mouth somehow responding in a sleep-talking, automatic fashion to the reality he was creating, while my mind tried to deny it. Sort of a defense, I suppose. Like when you're offered something that good so suddenly, I guess you just put your hands behind your back until you can decide to believe the sincerity of the other party. Too bad that we're like that, but if you don't watch out sometimes, you'll get conned.
"This was no con, but still, while he created the advance at my reality, my mind tried to hide in a corner to gather its guts together.
"I just couldn't accept the fact that, like the law, the occasion was strictly arbitrary. 'Suck your cock?' I would catch myself saying during brief test-landings, touch-and-goes before I'd take off again for my unreal holding pattern that was crumbling into crazy-eights under his true beam from the control tower. I would choke during the next test swoop, my unreal buzzes flashing more violently turbulent as they do when close to being grounded.
"I tried to make him seem suddenly ugly to me, a pretty ridiculous possibility considering what a hot spot he is, yet I flashed on him as a slob, burping back the TV tube he'd just swallowed, while balancing a Dangerous Beer Can with his famous Regrettable Eyeball Toss.
"That may sound confusing. It is even to me now, but I was wigging out so far that all the realities were seeming to cross wires, to short-circuit my senses into scrambling what was going on. And then these crazy signs seemed to jump from the screen he'd just eaten: I Dig it Short; No Parking; Dirty Clean; On Tuesdays and October Onlies. I was really trying to deny the warmth he was sucking me into.
"Careful, kid, I tried to soothe myself under-breath. 'Cause none of that was happening. Except in my unreal head. None of it. That's the portly truth. I'm a liar-I oughta know.
"My eyes scattered away from his advancing flesh in a last-ditch fight with what I really wanted, getting slammed black and blue with newsprint until it was some weird foxtrot to the confessional booth-a Pulpy Mass. The kind of flipped-out shit that happens when your dreams jump up and scare you with NOW. Too many songs already written by cornered closet cowards. Gotta ride 'em as you finds 'em. So if your Braille fails you, better buy a watchdog. Or get a Braille eraser. His steady steamroller was about to flatten my mirrored LIE with a soft touch, but I still had to (who knows why?) go and fight it to the bitter end. And once it got beyond that, it wasn't better at all, but was something that couldn't have hurt me at all (I was doing that to myself)-something with the sweet taste of the bite out of that big Reality Sandwich.
"In one last loony-tune flight, my head bounced off the wall before falling to the fact that it wouldn't hurt me to try. It only seemed that way, but we were screened in two. It was us up there on the wall where the TV'd been tossed again. But just as the program cut to live coverage of the moon-the astronauts had gotten stranded halfway up Hadley Rill, I flashed into its place. Feeling like Pancho Clock, the time warden, had put me up there on the wall ... the hands of the dial kept coming around, and around ... and then CUCKOOOOO, the bird popped out.
"And I was there. I finally realized that, well-just somehow in my frantic flight from the reality of the situation, I'd stumbled right into the present perfect. Those two images I'd been seeing ... it was just me, looking at my reflection in Uncle Kent's eyes. No beer cans ... the television didn't matter over there in the background ... all those unreal things my head had been tricking down on me were all bullshit. There was just a bird. And it wasn't any wooden woodpecker doing time in solitary, getting sprung on the hour to cry his case and get slammed back in it again.
"I'm talking about the fact that Uncle Kent had rung my number up and jumped all the tangles of barbed wire to get it down to me and him.
"Touching.
"All the words in my mind had gotten in the way while my mind was tripping. Oh, he'd used words during the whole thing. Me, too. But he'd cut right through the bullshit and hit a bull's-eye. For it was the mood-he wasn't talking trash. He was coming through-call it FEELING. Talk is cheap unless you really mean what you're saying. The words carried us into the meaning, despite my futile attempt to deny my own frightened feelings. Words said in diced tongues, 'lonely too long,' and 'I've always felt close to you, but-' and 'I've wanted you,' and 'asshole.' And it all cut past the parts and had become a hole.
"My, my. What a hole it was. It was miiiiiine. Yiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee! I thought about it one last instant and got so scared shitless I almost came. But when I stopped thinking about it I found out. His bird was singing a song in my hole. And it wasn't the hole I'd gotten used to. I was singing along in harmony. Singing a new song.
"During the interval of my brain's flight, my uncle Kent had actualized my fantasy. Brought it all down home. He was a deliverer of dreams ... the main mover. I'd been fighting it off, weaving my own bed. That's the way it's supposed to be. He was all man, making me feel like all woman.
"How we'd lost our clothing, fallen to each other's hot gropes, worked our way to the Main Point-all that didn't matter anymore. It was surprising that I hadn't even felt the pain as he entered through the tight constricts of my ass door-he must've knocked softly, or I was so far out trying to hurt myself through the avoidance of the situation ... whatever. We were past the surprise now.
"He was pleasing me in a way I'd never known possible. Packing it up real tight-a good man giving me the straight line in the best way possible. We were lying in the usual old position: him on top, me on the bottom, but his selection of holes to plow changed the entire deal. I had to arch up a little more than normally, warping my back into a crescent like a cat's spine and clamping my legs high on his back, my knees folding into his armpits.
"I didn't even know if I'd be able to stand it much longer, the way Uncle Kent kept slamming that hammerhead of his in and out of me. Like a rocking, reeking roller-coaster ride: up and down, in and out, all around. Me pivoting my hips around as best as I could, trying to keep up with his experienced way of giving loving.
"There was a sort of dull pain to the whole thing, and soon it was spreading everywhere up inside my body, and even seeming to seep out of my mouth and across the entire room in a vapor. But the funny thing about this brownout was that I was really liking it. It was like it was the only thing I'd ever known. Only this was the first time-sorta opened up the door.
"I looked up to check out Kent's state. He looked down at me. The state of our union was fine. It was pure-pure shit. Stinking. Both of us digging on it. Right down to the corner of whatever it was we were. I didn't know or care. You'd have to ask my uncle about that.
"All I can speak from is my point of view, and from that end I can tell you that everything was fine. He shoved that meat of his up my old bean hole hard and heavy, me just humping away with my fat hips, trying to suck that mother, balls and all, clear up inside my guts. We were all sweaty and smelling funky, but that just added to the kicks I was getting out of this de-flowering of my back gate.
"It felt sort of strained to me at first-a sort of dull, aching pain spreading through my in-sides, but it was a good sort of pain. I was amazed at how my anal tissues gave way to his steady plowing. I'd always thought my asshole was too tight to take on something the size of his prick. But once it went past the tight ring, my tissues seemed to provide their own lubrication and felt like a glove around the thrusting of his stiff ramrod.
"Maybe I was born to take it in the ass. I don't know for sure, but it felt even better to me than the regular way.
"I was really straining to take that cock of his, my back arched up as far as it would go. My knees kept riding along his ribs, the steady slapping of sweaty skin matching time with the steady popping sound made by his cock as it pushed in and out of my rear hole. My asshole kept making little farting noises as he plopped it to me, and I could feel little trickles oozing down my cheeks.
"Then, just about as quickly as I'd gotten away from my mind trip and realized what was going on, my mind began drifting away again. Only this time it was triggered by the crazy way he was plowing my body, sending my mind on a trip controlled by my body-just the opposite of the way it had been before. My eyes started fogging up and doing tricks on me; my brain started swimming around and around; my lungs felt like they were filling up with helium and making me drift away-then, BLAMO-I came all over the place.
"And it didn't stop there. Old Uncle Kent kept kicking his dong around, pumping harder and faster into me, the wild contortions of my ass walls making it harder for him to hold on. And when he came, sending hot gushers of come juice shooting up my ass, it sent me farther and farther into a wild orgasmic state, practically ripping my nerves right out of my body.
"Just then, I passed out. Not really-just sort of drifted off for a while. Otherwise, my senses probably wouldn't have been able to hold on any longer. I mean, you reach a certain point, whether it's from too much pain or from too much pleasure, and the old body can only hold on for so long. And I can tell you that this time it was from pleasure.
"Uncle Kent let me relax for a while, just lying over me and kissing me gently so that I could ease down from the peak I'd hit. As soon as I regained my bearings, he looked down at me and we just sort of balled with our eyes for a while. No time for words and cheap rationalization at a time like this.
"Pretty soon, we both started getting horny again, so he padded out to the bathroom and got a washrag to wipe his cock. He must've had the intention of giving my pussy a good going over for dessert and didn't want to give me any infection or anything. Anyway, he bounces back real soon, his cock dangling between his hairy thighs all clean as a whistle and ready to go for the second round.
"Before long, I couldn't see that cock of his, because he was right on top of me and getting down to action. We were kissing, petting, rubbing at each other's body until we were both sufficiently excited to get on with the main action. I really dug the way he worked my tits over, massaging them gently in circular motions and pinching at the buds to make them real stiff.
"But it wasn't long before he got down to more serious business, grabbing onto his hardened cock to guide it up to my pussy. I spread my legs wide to help him drive it in, letting him put it in nice and easy. I let out a long oooooo of pure joy as he planted that cock in me, and wrapped my legs back up around his waist as it sank home.
"Then he just started slamming it to me, giving me everything he had. I just clawed at his back and hung on as tight as I could, while he gave me that meat hot and heavy. I pumped my hips real fast to keep pace with his tempo, grinding my clit up against his crotch to get as much friction as possible.
"We rode this one out as fast and hard as possible, our bodies too sensitized to the thrill of actually getting beyond the first barrier to be able and stand very much more. Uncle Kent was no mere amateur like the boys I'd fooled around with at the drive-ins, and it was all I could do to hold back my orgasm for any length of time. When it finally happened, I went all dizzy again, letting him take all the controls and just lying back and taking as much as I could stand. When I finally did regain my senses I knew that the best was yet to come-that this had only been the start of something really big."
Caprio and London, in their work on sexual deviations, define incest from its Latin origins, the cestum being the equivalent of the mother's girdle, or cervix. In classical terminology, to break the mother's girdle, or to enter it, when performed by a member of the family, constituted incest, one of the most universal taboo forms of sexual behavior.
Perhaps the most familiar form of this is the Oedipal complex coined by Freud after the Sophoclean tragedy involving Oedipus and Io-caste, his mother, and revolving around the sexual possession of the mother by the son. In popular psychological applications today, this feeling upon the part of the son is often suppressed, but when felt strongly enough it can lead to various forms of deviated behavior such as homosexuality and related acts of fetishism.
The opposite end of this spectrum is known as the Electra complex-that is, the desire upon the part of the daughter to have sexual relations with her father. While we don't often find such actions normally being realized, in the normal pattern of sexual growth an adult eventually replaces the parent as sexual object. There are, however, those who bridge the gap and partake of this so-called "forbidden fruit."
Most studies of incestuous behavior have found certain correlations to be true. One of these is that the activity most generally takes place outside the conjugal family; that is, most often we find that the incestuous relations that are consummated are those between more distantly related individuals than daughter and father or brother and sister. Rather, such sexual unions are between an uncle and a niece, or between, perhaps, cousins. The interesting point involved in this particular case history is that Penny, while fully aware that she was engaged in an incestuous act, did not realize just how close her blood tie with the individual was. At first, she believed her lover to be her uncle; later, she discovered that her uncle Kent was actually her father. We will see that the disclosure actually enhanced the experience for her. This reaction upon her part borders upon a form of behavior known as periculophilia, that is, any sexual excitation based upon the thrill of danger.
Actually, the idea of incest itself is a form of danger-loving, since such behavior is so widely socially unacceptable. Therefore, the participants in such a fantasy-fulfillment are, by the very nature of the act they are committing, challenging their moral fiber. In essence, the closer the relationship involved, the greater the potential excitation.
These studies have also illustrated a strong correlation between the socioeconomic positions and the incidence of incestuous activity. Sociologists have found that the chances of incestuous activity occuring among the poor is much greater than among the economically well-off. While factors such as race, religion, housing, and moral considerations can be taken into account, the individual reasons are of more concern to us here. Therefore, however important such factors may be in the overall picture of an incestual relationship, we must pass over them without involving them in detailed analysis.
Researchers have also found a much higher incidence of incestuous occurrence within crowded housing conditions, where a large family, generally for economic purposes, is forced to live in confined quarters. In the case history involved in this discussion, however, we must once again waive the sociological statistics and focus upon the more intricate individual developments.
When it comes to the correlation of analism and incest, we find that the case history just cited in this work ties in more strongly with the overall pattern of development. Inasmuch as incest often necessitates the practice of contraception, lest such activities be discovered through an accidental impregnation, anal intercourse has often been a chosen method of avoiding such an occurrence.
However, in the case of Penny and the man whom she believed to be her uncle, such phenomenon is only incidental. That is to say, the partners discovered anal sexuality to be a mutually enjoyable act more, and a method of contraception less. Penny, at an age of extreme emotional vulnerability, was so overwhelmed with the actualization of a childhood infatuation, that she might have proceeded to commit practically any act of sexuality her uncle might have presented her with, providing, of course, she found it pleasurable.
Kent, who in actuality was her father, had long been a practitioner of anal intercourse. His wife's recent death, coupled with his long-concealed knowledge that Penny was his daughter, compounded his strongly compulsive behavior. Yet he was long reluctant to disclose this information to his daughter, unsure of her potential reaction as we shall see in the continuation of Penny's narrative.
"The following weeks after Uncle Kent first hung it to me proved to be nothing but a gas, gas, gas. Mainly of the variety that came from my ass. He did all the pushing and I did all the taking. As much as he could push in me, I was more than ready to take.
"He'd give it to me, usually up the ass, in just about every place we could find, so long as it wasn't someplace the kids would find out about, and in just about every position but inside-out. During the next few weeks, I found myself bending over chairs, the TV, the kitchen stove, and hanging from the rafters, trees ... everything, as long as he had that cock of his somewhere around my main joints, if you follow what I'm saying.
"I don't know where he drew the energy from-me either, for that matter-but whatever it was, it seemed like we had such a great magnetism for each other that it got better and better the more we'd screw. It wasn't what I was used to with the punks I'd been balling at the drive-ins. Like they'd get pretty tired, not just physically, but tired to me-like boring. They just didn't have what it takes to turn the key. Didn't seem to know much outside of themselves and their own needs. Like it's okay to satisfy yourself-that's what it's all about-but you've got to make other people dig it, too. If you're selfish about it, then you're clear back in nowhere. It takes a man to know how to give and get satisfaction and still be in control. You might be able to lay a shuck on somebody for a while, but it doesn't take too long for somebody else to notice if that cat's a boy or a man. The boys, whether they're fifteen or fifty-well, you can tell if they're selfish or not, at least by the second or third time you're with them. If you're still going for it after that, then you'd better check your own head out. 'Cause people who can't make the other guy feel good must not be feeling too good about themselves. That's no shit.
"So as my dreams began slipping into reality I found the whole thing to be much better than my imagination had ever turned me on to, mainly because my uncle was in such good control that I was riding on his energy.
"So it comes down to just who's driving your plane. And if you're a chick, it's best to let a man handle the joy stick. That's just the way it is. The more you question it, the farther out you'll get.
"There were no questions in my mind at the time, 'cause Uncle Kent was in firm control. As long as he was showing me a good trip, I didn't care how much of his corner I got to see. It's those motherfuckers who don't let you know if they're coming or going that can get you down. They just keep showing you the negative sides until that's all you can see of yourself.
"But when Uncle Kent took me for a walk down his eyes, it was no tombstone path. Primrose lane, maybe; though I doubt if that's what he was seeing. He made me see what I wanted to see. That's why he was in control.
"It was jabbed up my ass to make me see it, but he did it in such a nice way there was no energy left to waste on arguments from my point-of-view.
"He sharpened up my focus on the strangest planes, but it was such a good spell he put me under, I probably would have thought we were fucking in a bed of roses when maybe he'd be giving it to me in a shithouse. Not that he ever had me do that, you understand. The only shithouse involved was my ass, and at least I didn't have to look at it. I just felt it, and tried not to think about it much.
"My favorite times were when they came up at the moment-like spontaneous, right? One day, one of his days off, we went out for a picnic. Well, as it turned out, my mother and father were along, so they ended up looking out for the kids while we took a walk before supper. Of course, the folks had no idea what was coming off, just thought we were taking a walk down nature's trail or some shit like that. So did I for that matter. Never thought Uncle Kent'd try and get one off that close to home. So we were just walking.
"We came to this little cluster of rocks after we'd been walking for a while and Uncle Kent and I decided to sit and catch our breath, just digging on the sun and trees and all that shit. So there I was, just sitting on this rock watching a crow bounce around some branches when I feel this hand sneaking up between my legs. I jumped about an inch or two, my mind being so preoccupied with the beautiful scene around me that I'd practically forgotten he was with me.
"'Gotcha, Miss Tuffett,' he smiled at me as I turned to him, reassured that no spider had jumped in my pudding. Then I realized that he was really as much a part of the setting as the sun and trees.
"His hand did all the rest of the talking for him, moving up to fondle my crotch and shut my mouth. Pretty soon, we're stretched out on the ground and going at it like high-school kids, feeling each other up by rubbing zippers. So he starts undoing the clothing, getting it down to the real facts, still rubbing his crotch against mine in a dry fuck.
"His hands are there and gone so fast that I can't tell just what's happening, but soon I feel my skin breaking out in goose pimples as the cold breeze touches it behind his deft unpeeling of my body. He pauses to twiddle at my nipples, making my tits jut up towards his chest real hard. Then he puts his tongue to them, rolling them around in circles, bobbing the buds in and out of their pillows, and nipping crisply at the very tips with his teeth.
"His mouth then trails down my stomach and I feel him breathing hot over my navel. In an automatic response, I lift my hips for his pulling hands that rip my shorts and panties down past my ankles. I unwind them from my feet, kicking them to the wind, as he follows his tongue down to my pubes.
"Screwing himself into the ground, he begins lapping gently at my cuntflesh, spreading the lips with his thumbs as he sinks his nose down onto my pubic bone and lets his mouth sink softly into my wet lips. I start pawing at the dirt around me with my hands and feet, trying to bury myself and escape from the head he's giving me. It was too good for me to be alive. But somehow I escaped the graveyard, even though my mind may have taken me there and back.
"I reach up and grab his head with one hand, rooting my fingers into his hairstrands to keep from sinking all the way into the earth, all the time squirming my box around and around, my ass cheeks working in a grinding fashion and imprinting themselves into this monument we'd leave behind for others to ponder. All this time he's keeping up with my every move, breathing hot swells of air through my pube patch like twin tornadoes as his mouth and tongue dip deeper into my cunt.
"And then he pulls his tongue out of my cunt and sucks my clit in between his lips. I get so crazy that I let out a bunch of farts, shouting and yelling for him to do it good. And he does. Real good.
"When he sucks down and clamps it real tight, twiddling at it ... man, he's flat sending me to the moon. I'm all hot and hollering, beating a tattoo into the dirt bed, while he keeps nose-diving down on my muff, slurping up all that good flesh I had to give. And then I'm getting all clenched up in the guts and tight and hot ... and I'm coming and coming and coming....
"He sucks up every last drop.
"So while I'm stargazing there in the middle of the afternoon, I hear a POP and a ZIIIIIIP and bring it back home again. My man is leaning over me, his hot nozzle all ready for the fire, the drill on my clit having given him the call. But just as I start licking my lips, all ready to reach up and swallow that sword of his, he gives me a quick pat on the hip, telling me that it's time to look at the dirt for a turn.
"I flip over, the 180 some-odd degrees whirling past in a paintbrush of colors. Brown and green in fulfillment of some rape's lovedance. And I steady myself, elbows and knees to terra firma, the world's whirl taking a split second to catch up with my motion. And just as fast as my horizontal focuses into control, a jab from behind sets my vertical rolling.
"But soon it, too, is turned in as uncle's hands steady my waist and pull me back to his waiting rod. My ass spreads wide to accommodate his large flange-shaped head as it tests its pliant surface against the tight ring of my asshole. I feel a hand pull away from my side momentarily, hear him spit, then feel its return as it lubricates his cock head. With one finger, he neatly primes away at my sphincter, reaching down in my grotto for a fresh supply of my cunt-goop for further lubrication.
"I steel myself for the sharp pain, then feel his finger stretch the flap open ... then flaffff it snaps down around the large head of his cock like a thick rubber band. I lunge at the pain, but it is a backward push and only drives his shaft further home. The itchy-twitchy burning soon passes, though, as I begin letting my ass juices flow down around the invaded parts.
"It feels all sticky at first, his cock slicing through the tacky surfaces in slow in-and-out movements, but as soon as some of my shit lining comes down to smooth the path, we are able to move in a more harmonious fashion. I push with my hands down to the ground for better traction, my hair swinging into the periphery of my sight, as I grind my asshole high into his lunging prickstaff. His balls slap heavily against my buns as I open it all up to his full length, letting out little sighs of pleasure as he does me in.
"No matter how hard I tried, Uncle Kent just wouldn't let me get away. He kept jabbing that cock of his in me hard and fast, making me dip my head farther and farther down towards the ground in submission. With one hand, Uncle Kent reached around me and began rubbing my clit off with his finger. All the while, my face getting closer and closer to the ground framed by my arms and hair.
"Then I started quaking inside, his powerful thrusts too much for my delicate rectal tissues. At the same time, my knees and elbows began trembling, and I scraped them roughly through the dirt in a vain effort to match his strokes. But they became too unstable to control, my nerve fibers at the very end of their ability to endure, and I found my face being smashed into the dirt as his hot seed spilled into my guts.
"Of course, we had to clean up real good afterwards, walking back into our campsite as if nothing had happened. It was sort of hard to look across the checkerboard picnic table at Kent while I downed my beans and franks without making myself a dead-on giveaway.
"Of all the times we got it on, the most memorable was the time he told me that he was actually my father. I mean, he didn't come on in the middle of a fuck and yell, 'Hey, by the way, I'm really your father,' or anything like that. That would've fractured my buns for good. No, it was over supper one night. He'd been feeling sort of moody-oh, I'll spare you the lurid details. Anyway, I was able to garner the facts from him, as to why he was feeling so down in the dumps and all. So I get him to spill out the real reason and I just about shit.
"Starts laying on about way back when ... and then ... and about my old lady and him getting it on while the old man's away. My old man hadn't been getting it on with her then-that's how they knew. The old man being such a wimp, he ends up thinking I'm his kid through some miraculous brain-twisting known only to an asshole like him. Course, no matter what he might have suspected, he never figured his brother.
"Anyhow, the whole thing sort of knocks me down for a while. I mean, shit-how many days do you get like that? But after the initial shock hits me, he starts soothing me-or more like we sort of cooled each other's nerves about it. From his reaction, I could tell that it must've been just as big a burden, him carrying the knowledge all that time and keeping it a secret, as much as it was a heavy thing the way it hit me.
"Somehow, we got beyond the consolation and mutual back-patting, and progressed along our usual ventures. Kids tucked safely in bed, we began to undress each other as we dressed our nerves, settling into the wonderful escape of going into each other. The way that heals....
"His fingers seemed more sensitive to my flesh this time, as they glided nearly tiptoe over the surface, often just brushing the tips of the hair to implant an eerie kiss of ice. Following his lead, I responded in kind, brushing my lips against his more tenderly than usual, my tongue dripping like honey into his mouth, our tongues blending into one.
"And the feeling grew as our hands sped over each other's skins, our lips and tongues following their paths to erase the shock of our new knowledge. And yet, perhaps due to my finding out about it, the making up for it seemed to provide more excitation than ever before. And too, there was this really heavy thought that thumped from the back of my head-knowing that Uncle Kent was really Daddy! I mean, if I'd have known it to start out, back before we'd gotten into the fucking scene, I might have called it off. But since we'd already found out what compatible lays we were, I was prepared for it. And somehow it was making the whole thing even more exciting. Like we were doing the ultimate sin or something like that.
"After we'd felt up and sucked up just about everything from elbow to appetite, we got on with the more serious business, our bodies already pounding from the goodness we were sharing. I found myself being positioned over the end of the couch as Uncleer-Kent-Daddy? Well, whatever-I still call him Uncle Kent just to keep the whole thing covered-he was having me kneel over the end of the couch so that he could mount me from the rear. And that, as you already know, is our favorite way of getting down to brass tacks.
"He eases down behind me and presses his cockhead up to my rear door. He guides it in with his hand, thrusting hard to get past my ring, making a sharp pain knife through my guts. But then it gets feeling pretty good as he settles down over me and begins humping me hard.
"I feel his sweaty belly slapping against my back as he hunkers down over me and runs a hand around me to play with my right tit. Then it spreads out like a fan and mashes both of my tits within its grip and rolls them round and round while he slaps the old meat to me.
"I move my hips back up to meet his, pivoting them as much as possible in this position, but the limitations of the movement can only go so far. He had to do most of the driving from this angle, so I did my best at just circling my ass around a bit while he pumped it to me.
"He was watching me sink down, but I guess I'd asked for it this way, so I just tried to hang on as best as I could to my falling senses with some sort of blind faith. Luckily, he pulled me through. Our fucking became more frantic then, an unmentioned telepath triggering the fires of our communion. Somehow the words of his disclosure earlier in the evening had become implanted in our flesh, pushing us on to greater emotions than either of us had experienced in our relationship before.
"And then he sent a shower of hot rocks spewing up my ass, making me yield to his violent demands. I crumpled under the assault, the combined emotion of committing such a taboo act along with the degradation I experienced as a result of it, breaking me apart into one of the greatest orgasms I'd ever let go. Jeeeeesusssss, how good it felt!
"'Jeeeeeeeeeeesssusssss!' I yelled.
"And before my flesh crumpled down against the sweat-spotted pad on the couch, my senses must have orbited the galaxy, or at least a sun or two.
"I wake up from my delirium and am confronted with a wide wedge of red and brown. Then I realize that I've been flipped over on my back and Daddy Kent is sitting on my chest, his big spade-shaped cockhead poised over my lips. Without thinking the whys and how comes, I open my lips, running my tongue tip over them in anticipation, then gape wide to take his shit-flecked cockhead into my mouth.
"Once past the preliminaries, I twirled my tongue around the tiny hole of his opening, a string of glue trickling down under my lapping tongue. Then he began to fuck my face, ramming the blue-veined glider of his down my throat, nearly causing me to choke. But I checked my gag reflex and took all he had, making my mouth into an up-front cunt complete with teeth. Teeth that raked and nipped at his flying dick to add to the pain of the occasion. A pain that had to feel good.
"He really had a big load left for me to gargle down-enough to keep me swallowing as fast as I could to keep breathing. His balls were covered with the saliva-come mixture that flowed from my mouth representing the overflow that I just couldn't swallow. All in all, it added up to the best evening we'd ever had, and the nights that followed were all the better. Our secret, made even closer by the fact that I knew we were father and daughter, only made it better."
While Penny's discovery of the extent of her incestuous involvement wove a rather strange spell over the anal affair, it left little lasting psychic scars upon her adult sexual attitudes. The incident never came to the attention of authorities, or other members of the family, but rather was discovered during a voluntary study conducted by the psychology department of her college several years later.
As both anal sex and incest may well have their foundations in undue guilt, apparently Penny, a girl who seemed capable of chosing her own attitudes, feels little or no remorse from her actions, but instead takes it all in stride, a thing of the past not to be weighed too heavily. As it has turned out, Penny prefers anal sexuality, having found that this mode of stimulation offers her the best response, and leads a fairly well-rounded sexual life, free from any shadows of the past.