I first heard about the No Panties Club a little over a year ago. It was a Thursday evening after work and I had taken my wife Clare to the downtown mall. Not wanting to stay in tow through an endless row of clothing stores and fru fru boutiques, we agreed to meet in an hour at one of her last stops.

I finally caught up with her at the checkout of Kamala's, a boutique that sold a lot of sexy lingerie as well as a few other adult gifts. She was standing at the counter talking to the sales clerk. A handful of colorful and wispy lace nothings lay on the counter.

I looked at them: red and black silky G-strings, see-through lace panties, some crotchless, and something that disturbed me, three pairs of pastel undies sealed inside of blister packaging that bore the picture of a smiling pre-adolescent girl.

"What are these?" I said picking the package up off the counter.

The clerk still had the demo pair within reach.

"These have a small vibrating disk," she said, shoving the slight garment into my hands. "There are three speeds: high, medium and low." Operating a small gray controller a little bigger than a keychain, panties began to buzz between my fingers.

"There's three modes of operation: continuous, random and user-operated. Once set, you can lock them in either continuous or random mode," she said demoing the third and final button. "There's a chip right here," she said pinching the waistline, "that maintains the setting. Mom can keep the controller at home while your daughter goes off to school."

"These are for Caitlyn?" I asked my wife, dumbstruck. Caitlyn was 12 and was just starting her second year at middle school.

"No, they are for Sam." Sam or Samantha was only nine. I stood there speechless, my mouth agape. My wife sensed my distress and continued.

"I am trying to keep her in panties for a few more years, make wearing panties fun for her. The older girls are in something called the "No Panties Club," so of course Sam and her friends want to emulate them.

"No Panties Club." I could only repeat like a man in shock.

"All the girls are doing it," my wife said as if that explained it all. "I think it is something they see on TV." She shot the clerk a knowing smile as if sharing a private joke.

As my imagination ran wild, the clerk held up a tiny red lace G-string by the waistband, the narrow translucent strip down the front not big enough to cover the pubic area of a four year old.

My wife completed the sale and she more or less led me to the car, too numb to protest.

Once out of public earshot, I demanded to know what was going on with the girls.

"Oh really, Carl. I thought you knew. Caitlyn and all of her friends are in something called the "No Panties Club." They are at that age where they love to tease boys. Adults, too."

"Don't you think that is dangerous?"

"I've already had that talk with both girls, several times. They confine their teasing to school. Or in groups at the mall. Public places where some creep is not going to get them off by themselves and harm them."

I was silent, distressed by what I was hearing.

Traffic was heavy. My wife took advantage of this to say, "Concentrate on your driving and we will talk about it at home."

We continued the drive in silence. The radio murmured. The traffic rumbled. Alone with my thoughts I suddenly remembered something that had happened only three weeks before.

Caitlyn had two friends over and we were all sitting in the living room watching a movie. The girls were sitting across from me on the couch and I suddenly became aware that Brenda, a pretty brunette schoolmate of Caitlyn's, was not wearing any panties. For the next 40 minutes I had a clear, unobstructed view of that exquisitely smooth, hairless pussy. I tried not to look but my eyes kept wandering back to the pretty girl on the couch. At one point she picked both feet off the floor and put them on the couch, hugging her knees, her cunny so well illuminated by the floor lamp I could have taken pictures.

I pretended not to notice, but that night Clare and I made furious love. Twice. It was easy to imagine it was really that pretty 12-year-old my cock was sliding in and out of.

Home. Sam greeted us by the door. Caitlyn sat in the living room watching television.

"Did you girls finish your homework?"

"Yes, Mom," came the reply almost in unison.

Ferrying in purchases, I did not want to be there when Clare gave Sam the bag with her new undies, but I was. Sam looked inside the bag and grinned.

"Put them in the laundry and you can wear them tomorrow," my wife instructed.

Caitlyn was wearing a short flowered sundress. Six months ago when she started wearing dresses I thought it was a good sign that she was growing out of her tomboy phase and starting to be a good, proper little girl. Now that I knew the real reason, I was 95% horrified. The other 5%? Intrigued, curious about what the hell was happening with this new generation. I heard the washer start in the utility room.

That night in bed Clare and I talked.

"Things are not like they were when we were growing up. In some ways, not all, the girls are more sophisticated, better educated about their bodies."

"What about the boys?" I asked.

"Well," she sighed, "boys will be boys."

"I know. I know. A penis and a brain and only enough blood to operate one at a time." She gave a gentle laugh.

"The girls are kind of excited about the power they have over the boys. Jerrod Martin and another boy jerked themselves off in front of a group of girls in the Martin's garage. Sam and Cait both said it was the first time they ever watched a boy cum." Jerrod Martin was 14 and lived two doors down. The mental picture created made me both excited and sick.

"Aren't you afraid the girls will get pregnant?"

"I've had that talk with both girls. The girls will let a boy stick his penis in her vagina-or in her mouth-only when she is good and ready. And believe me, they are in no hurry"

A vision of my youngest with a saliva-wet man-sausage half-buried in her mouth entered my brain. I tried to squash it, but it persisted longer than I want to admit.

"They're teasing adults?"

"What do you think? Do you think that show Brenda gave you two weeks ago was an accident?"

I blushed with shame. I guess my attentions weren't unnoticed.

"The girls got a good laugh out of it," Clare gave me gentle squeeze, "and I certainly got something out of it as well."

My thoughts roiled. My wife knew I was a nascent pedophile.

"Cait said some of the girls were flashing Mr. Witt, her homeroom teacher. She said he got a boner and tried to cover it up by facing the whiteboard while he was writing. She said when he turned around there was a purple outline of his cock on the front of his pants. The whole class busted up."

"Aren't you afraid one of these guys will take advantage of the girls?"

"Again, the girls are way ahead. They are not going to put themselves in a situation where some guy will get them off by themselves. If he tries, the girls know to call the police." She paused thinking if it best to deliver this final bombshell.

"The new rules seem to be that if some guy wants to get himself off by looking at a bunch of little girls. That's OK. Some of the older girls like to give handjobs. But if he tries to stick his dick in her, he's going to jail."

"These girls are not going to end up frustrated; not going to end up like Aunt Marie." Clare's Aunt Marie had never married and though in her late 50's, looked at least ten years older.

I lay there in the dark, confused, and hard. Clare reached over and felt my hardness. This talk had excited us both.

We made love. As we screwed, visions of naked pre-pubescent angels of all shapes and sizes danced around in my head. Some were imaginary. Many I recognized: from the mall, from the neighborhood, from my daughters' classes. My excitement allowed me to pace myself and we screwed a good long time.

After I came the first time, much to my surprise and delight, I stayed hard. Clare was becoming swollen and sore, so offered me a treat. I fetched some warming oil off the dresser and massaged it into the soft flesh of her chest. Rubbing the remainder onto myself, I straddled her ribcage, placed my prick between her delightful breasts, pressed them together and began to slowly pump.

Slow it was or I would have cum almost immediately. As it was I lasted almost five minutes before my prick, jerking and drooling, gave it up and sprayed hot, spattering, chunky blobs of white man-sauce all over the pillow and my wife's beautiful face. The warm liquid shower caused Clare to cum again, both of us howling like coyotes under the moon. The girls had to have heard us through the thin walls if not the neighbors sleeping 80 feet away.

Drifting off to sleep, I heard Clare say, "Sam asked me if I thought you wanted to see her in her new panties, but I told her 'No, not yet, but maybe later.'"

I was able to pretend everything was Ozzie and Harriet for a few days before my wife unleashed a new surprise.

She had hinted that she-we-needed to go to bed early. I first thought maybe she was feeling ill, but soon realized something else was up. I trailed into the bedroom 15 minutes after her. After I climbed into bed, she handed me a 9 x 13 manila envelope a quarter inch thick.

Opening it was my real introduction to the "No Panties Club." There was photo after photo.

The first one was of what had to be about 30 girls from Caitlyn's class, standing on the front steps of the school, dresses hiked above their waists, each beautiful little naked pussy fully exposed in the sunlight. Caitlyn was there. That should have disturbed me but there was no time. There was so much more to look at.

More pictures on the front steps. Others taken inside the school: candids from the classrooms and hallways and more posed shots in the gymnasium. Any chance of me being able to feign disinterest in the photos was dashed when Clare wrapped her hand around my penis that was already nearing diamond hardness.

There was a series with the middle school's cheerleading squad, girls I recognized, all pantiless, legs spread far apart on the gymnasium floor, each girl showing the succulent pout of the unspoiled entrance of their vaginal cavity.

I was dangerously close to cumming, blowing my load in my wife's slowly stoking fist. Throwing back the sheets, I rose to mount her. Before she rolled onto her back, she fanned the portfolio of photos out beside her head.

Laughing, she said, "I want you to look at the pictures while you are screwing me."

Rational thought was not an issue. I no sooner got a rhythm going when Clare came, a hot liquid cum that sprayed out, flooding the bed and soaking me.

Looking at the pictures turned out to be a mistake. The first picture, taken at a playground, was of a tall, pretty freckled brunette no more than ten with straight hair and braces. She was nude below the waist with her t-shirt pulled up as far as it would go exposing two small cone-shaped breasts. She was grinning at the camera.

I came violently, so violently it was almost not even fun or pleasant. Like a seasick sailor, my balls vomited up their contents and continued with what seemed like 30 long seconds of dry-heaving spasms. Every nerve ending in my groin and prostate begged for forgiveness as Clare's cunt squeezed me in a vice-like grip.

We stopped long enough to rearrange the bed and get the lumps out. Clare got a plush beach towel and laid it across the wet spots. The gaze of little brunette in the photo continued to burn as if she were telling me she was looking for some nasty, nasty fun.

Clare and I went back at it. She rolled over on her knees and elbows and let me do it from behind so we both could look at the pictures.

"Look at this," she instructed. "Look at these two little girls." The photo showed two little blonde girls standing eight feet from the drive-up window of a popular chain restaurant. They wore matching polka dotted dresses hiked up well above their waists, nothing underneath. Neither girl looked like they were a day over eight.

"What do you think of these girls?" Clare demanded. "Tell me! I want to hear you say it!"

"P-p-p-pretty," I stammered, "I think the girls are pretty." Dream or nightmare, I was totally caught up in what was going on and had no way to stop.

"What would you like to do to these girls? C'mon, tell me." When I only gurgled something unintelligible, Clare continued, "I'll bet you'd like to take those dresses off, wouldn't you? Go on, tell me!" She pulled forward to where I was almost sliding out and froze. If nothing else, she would withhold the nookie from me until I gave her the response she wanted.

"Yes-s-s-s," I hissed, "I would take those dresses off."

"Off those little girls. What dresses? Let's hear you say all of it."

"I would take those dresses off those little girls."

"And then what would you do?"

"F-f-fuck them."

"No, those two girls are too little to fuck. What would you do?" she asked again.

My lizard brain was failing me and I could not verbalize a response. Clare helped me out.

"I'll bet those girls are waiting for dirty men to drive up to the drive up window and lick them all over, lick those cute little pussies, don't you?"

"Oh, yes-s-s," I moaned, nearly blasting off at the thought.

"Well, ask them. Ask them if you can lick their sweet little pussies." Clare pointed her thumb at the photo.

"Can I lick your sweet little pussies?" My heart was fluttering.

"But first you want to bring them home, right? Bring them home and strip those cute little dresses off those cute little bodies."

"Oh, yes-s-s," I shivered.

Clare froze in mid-stroke. "Say it! Say all of it!"

"I want to bring them home and strip those cute little dresses off those cute little bodies."

"So you can lick those sweet little pussies," Clare finished for me. "Where in the house do you want to do this?"

"Living room," I said, free-associating.

"No," Clare said, "You'll get your cum all over the living room. Garage. I'll bet these little girls would love to have you molest them in our garage. You could all run around naked in our cold garage before you shoot your cum at them.

"Yes."

"One thing: Cait and Sam are going to want to watch. It will be educational to have them see the kind of things dirty men like to do with little girls, don't you think?"

"Yes."

"You are going to have to ask me for permission to have Cait and Sam watch, so go ahead."

"I w-w-want to have Cait and Sam watch."

"Watch what?"

"I want to have Cait and Sam watch me molest the two little blonde girls in the garage."

Clare pointed at the picture. "And what are you going to be wearing?"

"N-n-naked. Me and the little girls are going to be naked."

Clare pulled the next page out from under the first, the same two girls, two photos on this page. The first was in the same place as the first photo only this time the two girls were not posing, but laughing. A third exposed youngster the same age, a brunette, was also in the picture. The second photo was taken indoors. The three girls were wearing cheerleader uniforms, their skirts again above their waists, lying on their sides facing the camera, each one with one leg doubled under, the other leg elevated and crossing the others.

"Look at their little friend. I'll bet you want to bring her along too."

"Yes."

"Well, before you do, you are going to have to ask their mother, Mrs. Woods, for permission and you are going to have to tell her everything you are going to do with the girls. Can you do this?

"Yes." By now, I could not think of anything other than unloading.

"I have her on the phone," Clare said, "Tell her everything." Clare's cunt muscles were gripping and rippling. She was obviously enjoying this role-play.

"I-Mrs. Woods-I want to bring your daughters back to my place and...." I said, trying to remember through the sexual haze, "I want to remove those cute little dresses and see them naked. I want to lick their cute little pussies."

Clare interrupted. "Mrs. Woods wants you to make sure the girls cum. Tell her you will."

"Yes, Mrs. Woods, I will make sure the girls cum. As many times as they can. I love their hot little pussies."

"Mrs. Woods says that her little girls love to get felt up. You are going to feel them up, aren't you? Feel them up until they cum?"

"Yes, I will feel the girls up and make them cum. Cum and cum hard." I was getting dangerously close to spilling.

"Mrs. Woods says the girls are in Sam's class at school and want to know if Sam and her sister will be there. You'd better tell her what our girls will be doing."

"Sam and Cait will be there. They will be watching me molest your daughters and their little friend."

"Mrs. Woods wants to know where you will be. Outside? At the playground? She would like someone to take pictures."

"Garage. We will be doing all this in our dirty garage."

"Mrs. Woods thinks that is perfect. One last thing. Mrs. Woods want to know where you are going to shoot your cum. Look at the pictures and tell me where you are going to sperm all over those cute little girls."

I groaned. What a depraved decision to make. Those sweet angelic faces? All over those pale, smooth legs? My cock jerked wildly, buried to the hilt in Clare's sweet vagina.

Clare whispered in my ear, "It's that little brunette girl's birthday. I bet she wants a hot sperm-shower from you as a present."

That was enough. My balls gave one long protracted contraction that marked the beginning of my orgasm. Clair popped off my cock and spun around as my sperm arced through the air and targeted the remainder of my load on her beautiful, beautiful face.

Though my lizard brain wanted to have another go at the photos, Clare and I were physically and emotionally spent. I collapsed into a deep sleep, dreams filled with lithe young bodies that stripped and gyrated and offered me their charms.

The next two weeks the photos dominated our sexlife. Whoever had done them had done a good job: nice clear prints on professional stock. Clare finally confirmed that she had all the photos on disk when I noticed that some jizzum-splattered prints had been replaced.

There were easily a couple hundred different youngsters in the portfolio, enough to distract me from the fact that my daughters were also present. Caitlyn was obviously a member in good standing of the "No Panties Club."

Sam was in a few of the pictures, one with a group of six of her age mates, posing with their panties around their ankles. In others she was shown wearing lacy underthings more suited to a men's club, often with the crotch pulled aside exposing the smooth pale cleft underneath. In one picture she was one of five girls wearing only panties, identically dressed in white cotton briefs that would be age-appropriate and traditional aside from the words "Little Slut" boldly emblazoned in cursive script across the crotch. The girls were grinning at the photographer and had their legs splayed apart so the message would not get missed. I recognized all the girls as having belonged to Sam's Brownie troop.

There were pictures of girls touching themselves and sometimes each other: pussy lips being spread apart for the camera, clitties stroked to stand erect, fingers probing knuckle-deep in tender vaginas. There was one series of about 26 photos of half a dozen boys and girls together; the kids engaged in a game of "doctor" that, judging from their facial expressions, ended with one and all surrendering to intense pelvic-jarring orgasms.

The activities of the few adults in the pictures were almost always non-sexual: some women who appeared to be teachers; a few men either being flashed or watching someone else being flashed; bystanders and pedestrians at a park or playground. The one exception was a somewhat blurred photo of a man and what might have been his limp prick dangling out of his dark trousers. Standing on a small stage or riser in front of him were four pantiless girls with the obligatory hiked dresses looking very much like little contestants in some perverse beauty pageant.

I was distracted by the great sex Clare and I were having. Clare and I would leaf through the photos and she would make me talk about them, fantasize about the girls in the photos in graphic detail, a practice made more crazily exciting in that I knew a lot of the girls by name and frequently saw them out and about in the community or waiting on the school steps the mornings I drove the girls to school.

Once-a-night sex was becoming a rarity. Most often we would do it two or even three times in a row, the pretty pictures of the pretty girls spread out across the pillows. When Clare became tired and sore and could not do any more, she would slide under me like a mechanic doing an oil change-me on my elbows and knees meditating on half-naked preteens of choice-and attempt to hoover the apparently never-depleting supply of spunk from my insatiable balls. I became faux-angry when she told me she was going to have to enlist Cait and Sam to help out. I was rapidly approaching the point where saying "no" to that seemed less and less an option.

It finally came to a head one night when Clare, Sam and I were sitting in the living room watching TV. Cait had gone to her room. I was beginning to suspect from the noises I heard from the hallway that Cait was spending most of her free time in her room masturbating.

Sam was lying on the sofa when suddenly her back arched and her body went taut. Both hands flew to her crotch and began to rub. From her throat came a groan that turned into a girlish squeak half way through. I looked over at Clare who pulled the controller half out of her sewing bag and winked at me.

"Do you want to operate it?" she asked.

"No, I don't think I better."

Turning her attention to Sam who was still breathing deep ragged breaths and hugging her crotch, Clare asked, "Was that a good one, Honey?"

"Oh, yeah, Mom, that was a great one. That was one of the best I ever had."

"Do you ever have ones that good at school?" I had a feeling Clare was pursuing this line of questioning for my benefit, not hers.

"Yes, or nearly so. I have to be quiet and try to hide it. That is sometimes part of the fun and sometimes that makes me cum even harder. Lisa Andrews cums all the time in class and she is really loud. Ms. Townsley says she is going to take her down to the gym and let the basketball team fuck her silly if she doesn't stop it." Sam giggled at the teacher's naughty joke.

"I think Ms. Townsley can always tell when I cum. I can tell because she looks at me and smiles and her eyebrow goes all the way up. Maybe Mr. Canter can too, because he always seems to be watching me when I cum. I like that. I like to pretend that he is making me cum and my cum is just for him. "

"Maybe we should invite him over for dinner and find out how he really feels about little girls," Clare proffered. "What do you think, Dad?"

I pretended not to hear and that I was engrossed in the mediocre program.

Sam kept it going. "Lori could come over and we could have a sleepover. I bet the two of us could make him shoot his stuff."

Not wanting to hear more I retreated into a personal space inside my head. Yes, it was inhabited by scantily clad nymphets engaged in what were becoming more and more graphic sexual escapades, but none of them were my daughter.

I began to dream. Lori was there. Lori was clad in a short transparent nighty that failed to come below her waist. Lori was one of Sam's closest friends and was always at the house. I had a vivid memory flash before my eyes: Lori in the scanty colorful flowered bikini she was wearing last summer. Lori and Sam lying in the back yard getting some sun. Not wanting lines, both girls strip out of their bikinis. Somehow I am naked too. My prick is bright red as it jerks and drools in front of me. The girls see this and laugh. They roll onto their backs and, legs apart, bring their knees up toward their chins knowing this will make me spill. I grab the head of my prick and squeeze, trying to stifle the flood of sperm surging from my aching balls.

Lori is back in her nighty, back in this dream. She has climbed onto my lap and begins to furiously grind her crotch against me. Hers is bare and sweet and warm and smooth. Somehow my pants have disappeared again in this dream. There is a buzzing on my cock, a buzzing like the vibrating disk inside Sam's panties. It is going up and down, up and down, from the base to the tip and back again. It takes forever for each trip, but each trip brings me closer to an orgasm. I feel bad because I am going to make a mess of the girl and her pretty blue nighty. In my dream, the buzzing disk is making the noise of a thousand bees.

I awoke in orgasm as the first volley spewed from the head of my cock totally soaking the front of Sam's panties. The second and third dumped boiling spunk all over the inside of her soft, warm thighs. By the forth, Sam had managed to coax the spitting, slippery beast inside the front of her panties where, rubbing against her exquisite bare softness, the red dragon finally died, thoroughly drained and exhausted.

"What's all this noise?" a sleepy-eyed Cait said standing in the doorway. Despite being only twelve a quick glance confirmed her suspicions about what had just occurred. That bratty Sam would do anything to be Daddy's favorite.

Clare sat there grinning at us both. "You two look like you had fun."

"We did. We did, Mommy," an excited Samantha said unable to check herself. "That felt soooooo gooood!" she purred.

"Good. I'll bet your daddy is now ready for Lori and Aleece and Margaret to come over and do your fashion show for him. I'd bet he'd like that."

"And we could model our new panties for him?"

"Uh-huh."

"And our birthday suits?" Sam giggled.

Uh-huh. I bet he'd really like that."

"Would he make his white stuff for us?"

Uh-huh. Four pretty girls and I'm sure he won't be able to help himself." Clare winked.

"Oh, goody. Let's do it Saturday."

I was too shattered to protest.

Friday rolled around and with a deadpan expression, Clare informed me that Sam's friends were coming over and I was going to have to chaperone. I asked where she was going to be.

"Oh, I'm going to be here, but you're going to be the guest of honor. Cait and I will make ourselves scare so you and the girls can enjoy yourselves."

"What if the parents find out?"

"Their parents either already know and don't care or else the girls are not going to talk about it."

Sam spent the evening bouncing around the kitchen telling everyone she was "so horny." There had been no sex for me that night or the night previous. "Save yourself," were Clare's instructions when I tried to become amorous. The "No Panty Club" portfolio seemingly disappeared, banished to some far, secret cabinet in the house.

Saturday the girls arrived looking prettier and sexier than I remembered. Clare could tell I was suffering so she wasted no time getting us all up to Sam's room for the fashion show to begin. Clare assured the girls that one of the rules was that I would have to be no more dressed than they were: Underwear for me as well as the girls as they lined up for the naughty show.

The girls strutted and posed while my stiff dick sought to free itself from my precum soaked shorts. I was about to consign myself that the next part of the show was going to be mine when, failing to control myself, I would drop my shorts and beat myself off onto the lovely faces of the four girls.

That was averted when Sam announced that now it was time for the four girls to model their "birthday suits." I watched in sweet, sweet agony as my cock jerked and throbbed and drooled, dangerously close to self-triggering at the slightest movement of air.

"Look, he's making white stuff." Pretty redheaded Margaret's statement brought an abrupt end to the clothes-less fashion show.

"It's sperm," corrected the precocious Aleece, "or cum."

"It looks yummy," said Lori.

"No, it's gross," said Margaret.

I cut off the nascent argument and explained to the girls that I was ready to cum, going to cum whether we were ready or not and that if the girls made me cum then it would be their turn which caused the girls to squirm and giggle in anticipation.

The girls began to position themselves. Sam produced a wine glass and informed me that Mom had told her to tell me that my first cum was to go in there.

I grabbed Margaret under the arms and hoisted her onto my lap facing the other girls. I told her to pretend that the she was a boy and that the big prick sticking out from between her legs was hers and that she needed to jack herself off for the other girls. I could tell the scenario excited the girls as much as me.

Knowing I was not going to last long, I told the girls to get the glass ready. Sam and Aleece knelt down in front of me while Lori stood over them and watched the proceedings from above.

Margaret began to jack, rather clumsily as she was trying to rub her girlish parts against me at the same time. It really didn't matter, the girls could have been using sandpaper and that still wouldn't have delayed my impending orgasm. A thousand butterflies began to stir in my balls and slowly creep up my urethra toward fresh air and sunlight.

The girls were not ready. The first blast went sideways splashing Sam and Aleece with semen-flavored frosting. More errant blasts soaked the girls before the girls managed to trap the head inside the wineglass where it spewed and spewed and spewed. Cum dripped from Margaret's hands.

The girls laughed at their semen-soaked friends and Sam and Aleece laughed at each other. Sam suddenly remembered the digital camera her mother had given her with the instructions to "take lots of pictures."

She grabbed the camera and took a picture of Aleece and then a picture of Margaret and her two slimed hands still sitting astride my exploded cock. Aleece took the camera from Sam and took her picture, recording Sam's first drippy cumface for posterity.

The girls passed the glass around, first sniffing and making faces, then tentatively licking and tasting the jizzum that had sprayed onto the side. Then the moment of truth: more photos as each girl brought the glass to her lips and downed a bit of the still warm, slimy mass slowly liquefying in the bottom of the glass.

The girls could not agree whether they like the taste or not. The one thing they agreed on is they all wanted more.

But first I had a promise to fulfill. I had Margaret spread out on her back on the bed as I knelt on the floor between her knees and gave her sweet cunny the passionate tongue lashing it deserved. Fifteen minutes and three good cums later Margaret got shakily to her feet and Lori took her place.

Five minutes later there was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"Me," came the reply from Caitlyn. "Mom wanted me to give this to you."

I tried to stand behind the door as I opened it a crack. Caitlyn peered into the room and saw what she expected: one naked girl spread-eagled on the bed, three other naked little girls standing in a semi-circle masturbating; her naked father standing behind the door, my bare ass plainly exposed through the crack of the door.

"Here," she said passing a manila envelope into my hands, "Mom said you needed to read the girls a bedtime story."

I thought it was the "No Panties Club" portfolio back to brighten our day, so I tossed it aside while I returned to ministering to the girls' cuntal needs. When Sam had her last orgasm and I felt that my tongue and jaw could take no more, it was recovery time for both of us.

I discovered the other girls had already opened the envelope and were oohing and ahhing and otherwise enthralled in it. It proved to be something other than the softcore posing of the "No Panties Club."

It was a series of several pornographic photo stories depicting the hardcore adventures of adult men and little girls. The models and settings were all different but the endings were all much the same: pretty naked youngsters giggling and laughing while being sprayed by fleshy fire hoses, smiling at the camera bespattered by the pearly, opalescent remains of one or more of their partners' orgasms.

Lori produced a DVD that had also come out of the envelope. Trembling, I knew what it was before the first image lit the small screen in Sam's room: more small girls laughing and giggling while being splashed with white liquid; men groaning, hips thrusting as one ball load after another arced across the screen showering over their tiny friends.

The girls wore themselves and me out trying to act out the things we were seeing on the screen and in the photos. We all collapsed about 11, fell asleep, and awoke three hours later and started again. The girls were beginning to perfect their fellatio technique about the time the sun came up. My cock spat its final load into pretty Lori's sweet suctioning mouth and I could do no more.

After that weekend, things really changed. Clare became more interested in seeing me have sex with little girls than wanting to have sex with me. She encouraged my molestation of both my daughters and their cute little friends and managed to hook me up with like-minded adults who scheduled parties and ran secret resorts and of course had an interest in expensive photographic equipment.

Looking back now it is hard to believe that I was ever concerned about anything as innocuous as "The No Panties Club."