Promise To Do Our Daughters (Part 1)
by Sterling

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.

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"Dave, suppose some day you had a daughter."

"OK."

"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."

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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.

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Candy's period came on schedule.

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.

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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.

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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.

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"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.

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"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."

Candy laughed out loud. "Very funny!"

I didn't laugh, but Candy shrugged it off.

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"Candy, we've got to talk."

"About what?"

"Sam."

"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."

Candy looked very tired.

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"Daddy, how come mommy doesn't like me?" Sam asked, plopping herself in my lap.

"Oh, your mommy loves you very much! What's the problem?"

"When she rubs me down there," she said, pointing to her crotch, "her face gets all cold like."

I was afraid that was the kind of problem they were having. I thought for a few seconds.

"You are a very special girl, do you know that?"

"Yeah, of course," she said, squeezing me.

"But there's one thing about you that most girls don't have."

"Yeah?"

"Most little girls don't want their mommies to do some of those things you do."

"Like what things?"

"The things you do with her that you don't do with me, like kissing, rubbing, and so forth."

"Oh."

"Your mommy and I were both brought up to think mommies and daddies shouldn't do those things."

"Oh."

"So when mommy looks cold, it's not really what you're doing that makes her feel weird, it's just the bad things she was taught."

"Oh. Should I stop doing the things that make her think of those bad things she was taught?"

"No, not at all! You go right ahead and do them. Mommy's really OK with them, just give her time."

"Is there something wrong with me?"

"Not at all. You are perfect just the way you are!"

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"You know, Dave, little girl pussy tastes really nice. Really, really nice!"

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.

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Candy was picking up Sam from preschool as usual.

"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.

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"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.

Candy kept me apprised of these developments.

---------------------------------------------------------

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.

(end of Part 1)

Part 1    Part 2

(first posted 9/15/2010)


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