In
every way you could measure, Candy's body was average. Average height,
weight, breast size, hip size. For colors, they were all typical --
fair skin, light brown hair, eyes of an unremarkable brown color. The
only thing that wasn't average was the overall effect -- her face was
beautiful. As for her body, I've always found an average young woman's
body to be very sexy.
We worked in a software development
company. I was a programmer and she was one of the QA people. She was
reserved, but had a lovely smile when something pleased her. I sensed a
depth to her; something unusual. Her beauty brought her plenty of male
attention, but when I asked her out, she readily agreed to a date.
Our
second date started with an early dinner. Afterward we decided to take
advantage of a fine summer evening and strolled through the park that
ran beside the river. She was a pleasant conversationalist, and she
seemed to like me. But she was holding back; there was no spontaneous
warmth. I was thinking that unless she gave me a little more
encouragement I wouldn't ask her out again.
We sat on a bench to
admire the river and the passersby. Then I saw a pair of girls run by.
They were perhaps seven, and they were just in love with life, holding
hands and skipping. I should have given them a brief glance and
returned my attention to Candy, but instead I just kept watching them
as they went by. There was something about girls that I really liked.
If I was feeling low, just watching children play would cheer me up.
The boys were fun to watch, but the girls were something else.
My
head had swiveled away from Candy as I followed the girls, and then I
was aware that she had stopped talking. Turning back to her, I saw the
first glimmer of interest as she watched me intently.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" she asked.
I
realized I had been inattentive, but answered smoothly, "Oh,
absolutely. If there is one thing that could get me to believe in
intelligent design instead of evolution, it would be little girls like
that."
Candy laughed out loud, then paused for a bit. "Would you
like to go over to that playground so we can find some more to look at?"
I checked to make sure she wasn't being sarcastic, then let her lead me
to a bench to watch.
"What do you think of him?"
"He's cute," I said politely.
"What about her?"
I
realized I was grinning -- maybe too much. "She is so adorable!" I
said. The girl was perhaps three, and she was sitting in the sandbox
with a shovel in one hand and bucket in the other, but just looking
around in wonder at the children whizzing all around her.
"I can see you as a good daddy," she said.
This surprised me as a topic for our second date, and she realized it
immediately too.
"Someday," I said, stressing the word, "I would like to have kids."
"Do you ever think of them as, well, sexy, instead of just cute?"
I
looked at her, and she looked away, realizing she had asked an odd
question. "I'm not a pedophile, if that's what you're asking."
"No, no, of course not," she said, flustered. "I didn't mean that."
"I think perverts are disgusting, and I'm not sure just locking them up
for life is enough."
"Yeah," she said.
I
knew a lot of women had suffered abuse and were very touchy on the
subject, but she hadn't taken my answer and expounded upon it with
vehemence. I wasn't sure why Candy had brought the subject up.
As
we sat in silence I kept looking at the kids. The girls filled my heart
with a tender ache, and the boys didn't. Why should there be a
difference? Sugar and spice and everything nice, I guessed. And I had
bad memories from my childhood of being tormented by the other kids --
and that meant the boys. That was probably all there was to it. Candy,
I noticed, was looking at me, not at the kids.
After a bit I
suggested we continue our walk, and the subject didn't come up again
for the rest of our date. But instead of letting that be our last date,
I wanted to find out more. Candy had shown a certain vulnerability.
"And she liked to climb all over you and snuggle in your lap."
"Sounds wonderful."
"Then suppose she was taking a bath, and started playing with herself."
"Well, hmmm. If she was young enough I would just look at her and
smile. It's natural ... I think. Isn't it?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Good."
"Suppose when you were drying her off she asked you to dry her again
between the legs, and then again, and again..."
"Gosh, I ... I think I'd say it was dry already."
"Right,"
she said. She was searching for something. "Suppose she was on your
lap, straddling a knee, and she started bouncing up and down, over and
over, and you got the feeling she was rubbing herself against you, like
sexually?"
"Candy, why are you asking me these questions?" I asked quietly.
"Oh, I ..." She looked down and away.
"I
mean, I'm sure you have a good reason, it's just a little odd,
considering we haven't even kissed or anything." She didn't look up or
answer. I decided to answer her question anyway. One of my strengths
was knowing about the latest ways for people to relate for
psychological health -- or at least I knew how to talk about it. "I
guess I would smile at her and tell her maybe it was better to do that
kind of bouncing by herself." I realized with concern that my erection
was swelling in my pants -- I had no idea why it was. I hoped it wasn't
visible.
"Would you think she was -- abnormal?"
"I don't
know, Candy. I haven't had that much to do with kids. But I think my
attitude would be that whatever she was doing was what she needed to
do, and I would accept her and try to figure it out."
Candy had looked up and was giving me a shy smile, but quickly averted
her gaze.
Wanting
to argue against my erection, I continued, "But look, I am not going to
be sexual with any child in any way at any time. It's a matter of not
making them feel embarrassed but setting firm boundaries."
We
had been exchanging some significant kisses in the front seat of her
car. She was about to go up to her apartment, and the question was
whether I was going to come along.
"I've got another question for you. You won't like it," she giggled.
"OK," I said.
"Suppose you and I are married some day and have a little girl, maybe
five years old."
"Sounds good."
"Some bad guy breaks into the house, a real psychopath."
'Sounds bad."
"And
what he says is that he needs you to get all sexy with our little girl.
He says you've got to lick her out, and then she's got to give you a
blow job. Maybe you've even got to penetrate her."
I winced.
"And if we don't he's going to kill our little girl. What would you do?"
"Oh shit, what kind of question is this?" This was some weird foreplay,
that's for sure.
"Just try to go with it, OK? You'd lick out our little girl?"
I considered. "First I'd ask her permission."
She
seemed surprised by that answer. "OK, suppose you explain that the
alternative is to get killed, and she says she'll do anything."
"Yeah, sure, I'd lick her out."
"Would you enjoy it?"
"Huh?"
"Would you enjoy licking her?"
"With a bad guy pointing a gun at us, I doubt it very much."
"Suppose
the bad guy is quite cheerful. He's in the other room, leaving you and
dear young Felicity alone together. You've got all day. She is cheerful
and happy and is sure you'll do the right thing."
I thought
about it. My erection got harder. Fortunately, that conveyed nothing to
Candy even if she was looking closely, since I already had a hard-on
from our earlier kissing. It might have shrunk just a touch as we
discussed the bad guy threatening to kill our daughter. But as I
thought about it, I realized I would like it.
"Maybe," I said.
"What about sticking your finger in her little pussy?"
The
erection got harder. I sensed I might as well just tell the truth. "OK,
yes, it would be sexually arousing! But I'm not a child abuser!"
Candy relaxed a little.
"Can you come upstairs with me?" Candy asked.
"OK," I said. "But those questions..."
"Later," Candy whispered. "Later."
Candy's
average body was just as luscious naked as I would have expected.
Breasts, nipples, all of a beautiful proportion, symmetrical. I
massaged her pussy and clit gently with my hand. She was very hungry
for me, and I was eager to get into her.
"Here, let me get a condom," I said.
"Oh, well OK," she said, sounding disappointed.
I
didn't like the feel of condoms, so I thought about the possibilities.
I was certainly clean. I'd had sex with two other women in the past
year, with condoms at all times. Before that I had been tested.
"Well, I'm clean. Are you on the pill and have you been taking
precautions?"
"No, no," she said.
"Which?"
"Oh, not on the pill."
"What about precautions, you know, for disease?"
She giggled a little sheepishly. "I haven't had sex for a long time."
In
any event, a condom was definitely called for. Her pussy was hot, wet,
and tight. She didn't want anything fancy, no oral, just straight
missionary position. She was totally into it, moaning with delight, her
pleasure building remarkably quickly. She came in less than a minute.
She smiled at me, focusing intently.
"It's so exciting to have you in me!" she said. "I can't wait for you
to come!"
That
was pretty special. I knew she was really with me and it felt just
especially wonderful when I let loose and came inside beautiful,
enthusiastic Candy. She came when I did, and as ecstasy possessed me it
was doubled seeing the pleasure glowing forth from her entire body.
I rolled off and she snuggled against me and we caught our breath.
"Dave?"
"Mmmmm."
"Can I tell you about when I was a little girl?"
It had been a decent interval, but I was still feeling happy and sleepy.
"OK," I said, trying to rev up my attention.
"I
was the oldest. One younger sister and a baby brother. My mother was a
teacher, my father an engineer. Stable home, no drinking. No problems
with money. They both loved us. We kids got along pretty well -- at
least as well as most sibs do."
Candy was gently stroking my cock as she spoke, and it was growing
rapidly.
"Sounds great," I said.
"It wasn't great," she said. "But you are nice and hard again!"
"Well, that happens when a sexy lady strokes it, you know."
"Well, then, make love to me again! If you want..."
"No, I can listen. It sounded like you were going to say something
important."
"Oh, that can wait. If you have a hard cock, and don't mind, I'd like
it in me!"
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Sure," she said, rolling over and rolling me on top of her. She
started guiding my cock to her opening.
"Wait, we need another condom!" I said, barely pulling back before she
pressed my cum-covered dick against her pussy.
"Oh, right, sorry," she said.
I found the next condom and put it on, then took her invitation to
slide straight in.
"Sure you don't want to be on top or something?" I asked.
"No,"
she smiled. "I come easily, as you may have noticed," she said shyly.
"You just go for it! You can just do me hard and fast -- I mean, if you
want."
Candy was going to be pretty amazing. I'd had girls who
might consent to a quickie now and then, as a favor to me, but she was
begging for it. I love sex all different ways, and this was a rare and
happy one for me.
So I banged her deep and hard, looking for
signs of distress. But the harder I banged, the more she smiled. She
panted, "Yes!" over and over. "Fuck me, Dave!" the shy Candy whispered
urgently. Thirty seconds after sliding into her that second time, I
clenched my jaw and gave my orgasm free reign, ramming into her
furiously, orgasm fogging out my brain as I spurted once again.
Just at our joint climax, she yelled, "Oh, daddy! Daddy!"
It
was the sort of comment that puts a damper on lovemaking, though it was
far better to say something so ominous right after your partner
climaxes than just before. Daddy or not, I kept pounding until I felt
satisfied and spent.
So, it wasn't so hard to connect the dots. Candy had been sexually
abused by her father, and had mixed feelings about it.
A
big part of me groaned. My last girlfriend Steph had been abused, and
it had been a heavy burden on the relationship. I was sympathetic --
that's what a guy is supposed to be, certainly. She wasn't totally lost
in her past trauma, and for the most part led an independent, cheerful
life. But sex between us was always a sort of wizened affair. She had
to be in just the right mood, and sometimes she would get overwhelmed
in foreplay and we would have to stop. She had to be on top, and while
she usually came, it often took twenty minutes. It was important to her
that I didn't get too carried away. Nothing rough. A bunch of gentle
strokes, and she really wanted me to come within a few seconds of when
she did, because those feelings would often come and grip her after her
own orgasm faded. Funny how impending orgasm can keep yucky feelings at
bay.
But that was Steph. Candy's behavior in bed so far had been fantastic.
Realizing what she had said, she turned pink, but waited until I had
withdrawn before turning away from me.
"Oh, shit," she whimpered. "You were so nice, and now I've gone and
blown it."
Perhaps
she thought men were like women. For a lot of guys, a gorgeous woman
who gives them unlimited hot sex can yell out as many different names
in the heat of passion as she wants. I wasn't quite that extreme, but
yelling out the name of her daddy was hardly a deal-breaker.
"Nah,
Candy. You're pretty special. Somehow I doubt you're going to leave me
to go back to your daddy. Maybe you should finish your story."
Candy started crying softly then, and I put my arm around her gently.
Many minutes passed, and she said nothing.
I
took a stab at it. "If I had to guess, I'd say your daddy abused you,
over and over for a long time, and probably did it to you like all the
way, and part of you loved it and part of you hated it, and the part
that loved it felt guilty, and you hate him for betraying your trust
but you love him, and everything's all jumbled up."
Candy stopped crying and lay completely still. Then she turned over.
"It sounds like you've known someone like that," she said.
"Last
girlfriend," I said. "I admit it was kind of a drag. But something's
different because you are totally hot in bed. Maybe she hated it more,
and you loved it more? Or you're just different."
She looked down.
"Hey, sorry, I shouldn't assume. So why don't you tell me?
Candy began after a pause. "My daddy never touched me. He never gave me
any lewd looks, never threatened me."
"Uncle? Grandfather?"
"No, nothing like that."
I waited.
"No,
the sicko was me. I wanted him. I was obsessed with him. No matter how
much the therapists talked to me, I couldn't just let it go. So when I
cried out his name, it was for something I wanted so much but never
happened. I'm supposed to be all over it now, but it sure doesn't sound
like it, when I'm yelling his name, right?"
"I guess not," I said, trying to absorb the new information.
"Look,
you can go now if you want, I won't be offended. You don't have to call
me again or make up any reasons. Or you can stay the night. Do it as
many times as you want before morning," she said wistfully.
"So that's why you were asking me those questions about the bad guy and
your daughter and all."
"Yes!" she said.
I'm not a shrink or anything, but I can figure out all this stuff with
feelings better than most guys.
"So
you wanted to know that I wasn't like your dad. You liked that I
wouldn't have said you were sick for getting sexual with me. And you
wanted to know if I might even have felt a little sexy towards you.
Say, how old were you when this started? Puberty?"
"No. Earlier. Way earlier. I don't remember a time when I didn't feel
that way."
"Yeah, you weren't asking me about teenagers, were you."
"No,
not at all. I had a pretty good idea as soon as you started getting a
hard-on when I told you about bouncing up and down on my daddy's knees,
but I wanted to make sure. Like with the bad guys."
I sighed. A guy's sexual arousal is right there on display.
"And you admitted it! That meant a lot to me."
"I said I wasn't a child abuser, and I meant that."
"Of
course," she said. "Of course, I know child abuse is bad. I know it's
terrible. But it's hard for me to relate personally because I wanted to
be abused so much!"
"So," I said. "Here's how I feel. I accept
that you were just a horny little girl, and you were mad at your daddy
for not returning your interest. I think you didn't do anything wrong.
It's just the way you were." I thought a moment. "Do you think if he
had been accepting and loving and all that but didn't do anything you
would have gotten over it?"
Candy looked at me with a level gaze. "No, I wouldn't have. I needed
him to be sexual with me."
"But he couldn't really have done it, right? He would have gone to
jail!"
"Maybe,"
she said, sighing. "I don't know." She took a different tack. "We need
the kind of world where kids like me are accepted, and people
understand what we need and they give us what we need. Don't you see?"
"I guess so," I said. "Though you are pretty rare, no offense."
She shrugged. I congratulated myself on not saying she was weird or
strange or in need of help. Just "rare."
"Did you have the hots for everyone, or just your dad? Like your
teachers?"
"No, just my dad."
"How did you get over it?"
"What do you mean?"
"How did you get so you date people."
"When
I hit puberty I got so I thought boys were interesting. I fumbled
around in college; a few awkward little romances here and there, and
bit of sex, but nothing felt really good. The sex felt good, but not
the relationships. And since then I've dated but nothing feels right.
My daddy died last year..."
"I'm sorry."
"Thanks... But I
think it set me free -- he sure wasn't going to sleep with me now! --
and also made me realize that my life is passing. So I got more willing
to take risks. I've tried bringing up little girls and sex with a few
other guys, but their reaction ended those budding relationships fast.
If they didn't solve the problem by running away, I had no interest in
them any more. Then I met you."
We lay silent for a long time, side by side. Then she turned over to
face me and started stroking my hair.
"But Dave?"
"Yeah?"
"Suppose
we did have a daughter and suppose she was like me. You'd be
understanding and supportive, and that would be a great start. But what
about the rest?"
"The rest?" I said, stalling for time, waiting to get cornered.
"Would you be sexy with her -- if she wanted?"
I sighed. "I said I'd never abuse a child."
"But
would it be abuse? She'd want it. I'd be pretty sure she was right and
not just going through some odd phase. I'd want it for her."
I
imagined a six-year-old begging me to kiss her, suck her tiny nipples,
rub my hand between her legs. My erection was rising strongly, in plain
view.
"It seems like you'd like the idea of it," she said, glancing down.
"Yeah, I guess I would."
"So..."
"There's still the matter of going to jail for a long, long time."
Candy was silent a moment. "So is that the only reason you'd hold back?"
"Yeah," I said. It really was. That luscious little hypothetical
daughter was beckoning me.
"If there was some way to make sure you wouldn't go to jail, then you'd
do it?"
"Yes," I said. "Yes, I would."
Candy
wrapped me in her arms and squeezed tight before shoving me onto my
back and mounting me. She had an almost frighteningly intense orgasm,
screaming and shaking. As I was rising to my orgasm I remembered we had
no condom. I hesitated but came anyway, delighted to leave my sperm up
in her pussy this time, my pleasure supercharged thinking that I just
might be making her pregnant.
Candy had made me aware that my
attraction to little girls could have a sexual component if I let it.
She encouraged it and held out the prospect that if we made a life
together, she might beg me to satisfy a daughter begging me for sex.
There was the matter of jail, and it was all hypothetical in a way. But
it was enough of a possibility that I found my pedophilic attractions
blossoming. Those little girls I passed now and then were sexy. I'd
never go near them, of course. But I knew my attraction for them was
real and strong.
She
was a wonderful girlfriend: flexible, supportive, and fun-loving. We
could talk about any subject, spinning ideas and fantasies, challenging
each other respectfully. She was even a good cook. She made me wonder
how I had even considered marrying any of my previous girlfriends. My
willingness to consider being sexual with some hypothetical future
daughter was the condition that let Candy open her heart. But our
relationship was built on all the regular stuff.
Sometimes we
made love in the dark, and she talked like a little girl, and I talked
like her father as we fucked away with abandon. I didn't mind in the
least. That was part of her past and I was willing to help her deal
with it.
But at least half the time we did it in the light,
trying any position I wanted. She was happy with anything, and pretty
much always had a large, satisfying orgasm whenever I did. She never
turned me down. She learned I liked to do it right after I woke up, so
she often aroused herself fully, then woke me up by guiding my morning
hard-on up her pussy. I often came within seconds, and we both loved it.
We got married in a small civil ceremony six months after the first
time we made love.
For three years we felt we were the luckiest couple in the world. Then
we decided it was time to have children.
When
little Samantha was born, the 'daughter' part became a reality. But she
was an infant and we were both totally in love with her as our baby. I
didn't think of her sexually at all.
As she got a little older,
I noticed her femininity, but I wasn't thinking about sex. She was just
my daughter. A big part of me assumed that no little girl would want
sex. Even if it was possible, there was a very good chance that
whatever Candy had wouldn't be passed along in families.
Candy was five months along with our second child. Sam was three.
Candy turned to me just as we were preparing to turn the lights out.
"Dave?"
"Yes?"
"Sam was just playing on my lap. You know she loves 'Trot, trot, to
Boston'."
"Right." I had played the game with her several times.
"After
we had done it a couple times, she kept bouncing herself up and down
almost like she was getting off on me. So don't be surprised if she
does that with you. It might be starting!"
"Oh!" I said. That got me hard in a hurry, as the possible relevance of
my attraction soared.
"Here's
daddy," Candy said, bringing my precious daughter in to see me. "He
loves to play 'Trot, trot' too!" Sam gave her mother a questioning
look, then reached out to me as I stationed her on my knee. Candy
busied herself around the room but kept an eye on what was happening.
We played three times, and Sam gave the usual giggles as I let her fall
off -- holding her, of course. But she didn't bounce up and down. Part
of me was disappointed.
"You again, mommy!" she said.
Candy
sat and took the girl on her lap. After a mere one time through, Sam
held herself up on Candy's legs with two hands, and then bounced up and
down. It wasn't bouncing, really. She was carefully rubbing her crotch
against Candy's leg, looking at her mother and smiling.
"OK, enough of that!" Candy said breezily, and put Sam down on her own
two feet.
"I
can see it in her eyes," Candy said. "It's the same thing I felt! But I
wonder why she's starting with me. Maybe she's afraid you'll reject
her, and doesn't want to risk that right away?"
"There might be another explanation," I said.
"What?"
"Sam might really want her mommy, not her daddy. Maybe she's a horny
little lesbian."
"Yes. I hear she's likely to be jealous of the new baby."
"Not about that."
"Is she having trouble in preschool again? Did Doris speak to you
again?"
"Yes, Sam's behavior might get her kicked out before long. But that's
not what I wanted to talk about."
"What about --"
"Listen, Candy. Listen. Let me talk, OK?"
"OK."
"I've seen it. Now you won't play 'Trot, trot' any more. I see her
asking for it."
"I don't know, she's weird and doesn't want to play, really."
"Right, she wants to bounce up and down, right?"
"Yeah, it's not comfortable."
"And in the bath, when I walked in the other day. She was playing with
herself."
"It's natural, of course."
"Yes, it is. But she was looking at you the whole time. And you know
what else?"
"What?"
"She never does it when I'm supervising her bath."
"Oh."
"Remember your daddy, and how he wouldn't let you be sexual?"
"Yes, of course!"
"Sam's asking for sexual attention from you."
Candy was silent. "But it's not natural!" she said.
I
am proud of myself. I didn't laugh. She had this baby sexuality gene or
something which she had passed on to her daughter, and she was getting
grossed out by lesbianism.
"Remember what you told me, back when we were first going out? You have
to accept her feelings, right?"
"Yeah, but..." she said, making a face.
"So now the question is, will you go ahead and be sexy with her like
she wants."
"It's illegal..."
"Of course. It would have been illegal for your dad, too."
Candy looked at me, pleading for help, but I couldn't really help her.
"Remember
yourself as a little girl, how much you wanted your daddy to fondle
you, and kiss you on the lips? Lick your nipples, then lower and
lower..."
"All right, I remember!" Candy fumed for a minute, the
crossed her arms over her chest. "You were supposed to be the pedophile
who could come out of the closet to help our little girls. I wasn't
supposed to have to be a closet lesbian pedophile!"
I shrugged.
"I guess we take what we're given." I thought a moment. "Of course, we
could just be like normal parents and set limits and you could tell her
that we can't be sexual with her."
Candy looked at me. "No, I couldn't do that to her."
"Why not?"
"You can see it in her eyes, right? This isn't just normal curiosity.
She's driven. She needs it, just like I did!"
I smiled. Sam's sexuality would never be mistaken for a normal -- make
that 'typical' -- girl's sexual curiosity.
"I think it might be related to her troubles with school, and how she's
pretty tough on us, too."
"Yeah,
of course..." Candy said. After a few seconds' silence, she said, "How
about I start getting used to it after the baby's born?"
"No, you'll be incredibly busy and exhausted. You've got to do it now."
I
gave Candy a big hug. Sam was a lot happier, and her behavior had
turned around just in time so she didn't get kicked out of school.
"Oh,
that's great!" It was great. But I couldn't help give vent to my
jealousy, adding in a significant tone, "I wouldn't know myself."
Candy looked at me. "But you'd like to know, wouldn't you?"
"You wouldn't marry me until I told you I would, right?"
Candy smiled at me. "We never thought of that, I guess. You find her
just as hot even if she doesn't want to get sexy with you."
"Bingo. You gave me permission to think about little girls that way,
and I now find them pretty attractive."
"Sorry, Dave."
"Thanks. I guess I'm no worse off than a regular closet pedo father
with a daughter."
"But you would be sexy if she wanted to, right?"
"Of course."
Candy said in a sultry voice, teasing me. "And you'd really enjoy it."
I was a touch exasperated. "I want to fuck you. Right now!"
Candy
realized she had been a little mean. "Of course dear. Take me!" With
her huge belly, the only way we could do it was from the rear. She
turned around, lifted her gown, and began rubbing her clit with her
fingers.
I stripped and my cock rose. She wasn't quite as sexy
to me with a huge belly, but still plenty sexy. I felt a little guilty,
with flickering images of Sam's little girl lips. After twenty seconds,
as my cock was reaching peak hardness, Candy whispered, "Imagine you're
fucking our little Sam."
With that permission, the image of
Sam's little pussy sizzled in my mind in vivid color, and I was so
excited I shot my wad up into pregnant Candy three strokes later.
"Candy, can you stay a moment? I wanted to talk with you privately."
Marty
was the junior teacher, good with the kids. She took Candy out into the
hall while Sam played with a couple other kids, and spoke in a low
voice.
"I thought you ought to know that I overheard Sam talking
to Iris about things at home. How it was a secret but that you did
'lovey' things to her, like stuff between her legs where it felt really
good. I don't know if she's been reading stuff or how she got that
idea, but I thought you ought to know. If Doris hears, she'll have to
report it." She then brightened. "But she did seem very happy about it,
however she got the idea!"
"Oh, I guess she misunderstood. Thanks for letting me know," and with
that Candy took Sam home.
"I
don't think you know how serious this is!" I told Candy as lay in bed
that night. "Once it's reported, they will come and ask Sam questions.
Once she tells the truth, they'll whisk her away and we may never get
her back!"
"Oh, come on, it can't be quite that bad, can it?"
"Yes, it can."
"What can we do? We could teach her to lie about it."
"Sam's
just barely four. They have ways of asking, indirect ways to get it out
of her. And besides, do we want a daughter who has to lie all the time?"
"So that's why my daddy would never love me that way."
"Yeah, that's part of it, anyway."
We were both silent. I took Candy in my arms in bed.
"We
need to move. I don't think they will follow us when they haven't even
interviewed Sam yet. Not enough probable cause, or whatever the word
is."
"How do you know?"
"I've been studying about it. I
knew this was a possibility. And I think we need to get out of here by
6am and get over the line into New Hampshire."
"You're kidding? Where will we stay in New Hampshire?"
"Tomorrow night, a motel. Maybe then an apartment until we can work
something out."
And so, at 6:45, we packed up the two cars and headed off to a motel
outside Manchester, New Hampshire.
Arthur was born in Manchester, and he was a great joy to all. He also
complicated our efforts to build a new life.
When
I returned by myself to attend to affairs at our Massachusetts house,
it turned out I had been correct. There were letters saying that the
preschool had filed a "51a", suspicion of child abuse, and we were
required to bring Sam in for an evaluation.
Candy was convinced.
We
considered starting a commune out in the woods somewhere. The American
West was full of them. We could perhaps find some families with a
similar problem so our kids would not grow up isolated. We could home
school them. But looking into the future, we could see trouble. An
outsider might wander through and suspect something. A disgruntled
family might leave and report us. And what would happen when our
children grew up and went off on their own in the world? Could they
keep such a big secret about their upbringing? Could we ask them to?
The
only solution we could think of was to get out of the country entirely
to a place where laws were less draconian and bribery could smooth over
many difficulties. We ended up outside Bangkok, Thailand, and soon we
had a community of several American families. What we shared was that
some underage child was engaged in sexual activity that was illegal in
the United States. But that didn't mean that among us anything was OK.
Our rule was that all parties had to be consenting.
Little
Arthur showed no unusual interest in sex at all. As the years went by,
he certainly made no moves to come on to Candy or me. He was a normal
boy and played at boy things with friends he made in our little
community. He and I played catch, tussled, played board games, took
walks. We had a father-son relationship. I love him a lot, but I'm
leaving him out of the story pretty much. The interesting stuff was
what happened with the girls.
Holly
was Candy's younger sister. When they became adults, the two talked to
understand their childhood better and clear the air.
Holly
hadn't had the same attraction to their father that Candy did, and that
had made a huge difference. Their father liked Holly and got along with
her -- the one who wasn't 'sick'. Candy naturally resented that.
Holly had married Bill, and they had two children, Nancy and Jake.
While Jake was a happy well-adjusted boy, Nancy had troubles.
Starting
at age four, she had insisted on showing her naked body to Bill,
opening her labia sometimes. She sat in his lap and openly masturbated.
She liked to touch the little bulge in his pants, the one girls don't
have.
Holly recognized the pattern, and had insisted that Bill
not make her feel guilty about her sexual feelings. Bill had done a
decent job of it. But as she got to be five, Bill insisted that she
keep covered up around him and stop masturbating while sitting in his
lap. He strictly enforced a rule that she couldn't touch his crotch. He
was acting like a totally responsible father. He had allowed about as
much sexuality as he could within the limits of the law and good
child-reading practice, and he had accepted Nancy's sexual feelings as
natural while prohibiting their expression. But it wasn't enough for
Nancy.
Her behavior at school became unruly and she acted sullen
and depressed. She told Holly exactly what was bothering her: she
needed her daddy to love her by touching her between the legs and
kissing her for a long time, and something to do with what was in his
pants -- though she didn't quite know what.
When Sam was six and Arthur just two, Candy brought Nancy to my
attention once more.
"Let me show you some pictures, Dave."
Candy
landed on my lap with a laptop on hers, and showed me a large portfolio
of Holly and family, with special emphasis on Nancy, including Nancy in
bikinis. She wasn't a beauty, and her sullenness showed in some of the
pictures. But she was by no means ugly. Her graceful eight-year-old
body was perfect for a girl that age, and I thought I could see beneath
the sullenness a hunger, a cry for help almost.
"What do you think of her?"
"Who? Holly or Nancy?"
"Nancy."
"She's a nice young girl, but it's too bad she's so unhappy. You can
just see it in the pictures."
"Do you think she's sexy?"
"Oh, yeah. It's too bad her dad can't give her what she needs, but you
can't blame him."
I had a pretty good idea where this discussion was headed, and my cock
was getting very hard.
Candy
wriggled in my lap against my erection. Suddenly she looked around to
see who was nearby. We were in a common room with no privacy. She
pushed a button on the laptop to show a close-up of Nancy in her
bikini, legs open and smiling. Then she knelt on the floor, facing the
sofa we had been sitting on, and put the laptop on her back, facing me.
She then lifted her skirt and pushed her panties to the side. "Quick!"
I
loved my Candy. I whipped my hard cock out of my fly and knelt behind
her and pushed. She guided my cock into her hot, slick cunt. With one
hand I held the laptop a foot from my face and studied every curve of
the girl, especially the crotch of her bikini, with the other I
balanced myself on Candy. I pressed in a dozen times, and we heard
footsteps a couple rooms over.
I let it all out then,
ejaculating up inside Candy while feasting my eyes on Nancy. Candy
pulled away before I had finished ejaculating and within three seconds
was sitting on the sofa holding the laptop as if nothing had happened.
She had even changed the picture on the screen. I whipped my cock back
into my pants, though I was still breathing hard just as Sam rounded
the corner.
"Whatcha doin' on the floor, daddy?" she asked.
"I'm ... proposing to mom again... Candy, would you marry me again?"
Candy barely suppressed her laughter. "Yes, Dave, yes!"
Sam rolled her eyes. "You guys are so weird," and tromped off.
I was still a bit too breathless to laugh out loud, but Candy could no
longer contain her hysterics.
"You are so wonderful," she said. Then we returned to business.
"We've
got a plan, Dave. Holly is going to bring the kids here for a while to
visit, assuming you're willing to make love to Nancy if she wants you
to."
"I'm not her daddy. With you it was just your daddy, right?
And then in Sam's case, she doesn't go after her teachers or anything?"
"Yeah, we know. It's just an experiment."
"You know, Candy, I promised to try to satisfy our daughters. I didn't
promise to service all the nieces and second cousins!"
"Will you if she wants you to?"
I opened my mouth and panted. Candy laughed and pushed her hand
playfully into my face.