Subject: Dan and His Daughter Kari (MF, Mf, incest, cheat)
Submitted By: Dan <whalesrevenge2009@gmail.com>
Posted by: Kelly <pghkelly@yahoo.com>

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                                   !!!WARNING!!!!
This file is a work of fiction containing sexually explicit material which may 
include depictions of underage, nonconsensual and unprotected sex as well as 
incest and adultery. It is not intended to implicate any person or action by 
them or me, nor advocate such practices. If you can't separate fantasy from 
reality, get professional help - FAST!

The material is distributed as "For Adults Only" and possession by a minor is 
strictly forbidden.  If you are not legally empowered to be in possession of 
this material, do not read it and delete it immediately.

This work is copyrighted to the author ©2010. It may be posted to non-commercial 
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites so long as no changes 
are made AND the author information is retained.
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Summary:

Dan is your typical middle-aged father of three daughters.  While he masturbates 
regularly to thoughts of their friends - he claims to have no lust for his own 
daughters - something I highly doubt considering some the cum he has sprayed on 
some of their photos!

Table of Contents:
   Chapter  1 - Introduction
   Chapter  2 - My Mother
   Chapter  3 - Lusting For My Daughter's Friends
   Chapter  4 - About My Daughters
   Chapter  5 - My "Playmate" - Part 1
   Chapter  6 - My "Playmate" - Part 2
   Chapter  7 - Response to Kelly's Ethical Dilemmas
   Chapter  8 - Sex With A Slut Mom While Her Daughter Watches
   Chapter  9 - Fucking the Slut Mom and Cumming on Her Daughter
   Chapter 10 - Fucking the Slut Mom While Her Daughter Helps
   Chapter 11 - My First Tribute to Kari, My Daughter's 14 Year-Old Friend
   Chapter 12 - My Second Tribute to Kari, My Daughter's 14 Year-Old Friend


Chapter 1 - Introduction
========================

Hey Kelly,

I have to admit that I have been consumed by your website for about the last 
week since I first discovered it. I feel almost like a dunce not finding it 
sooner since I've been searching and reading ASSTR for years. Strange things, 
these search engines.

You are like nothing I have ever encountered on the web. You have no idea how 
your website, and then exploring YOU in your writings effected me.  Having said 
that, I couldn't imagine a better way to get acquainted than to tackle the 
dilemmas. I'll get to work. It will take me sometime to collect my thoughts in 
writing as I feel them. I'll take them in order and send you one at a time so 
that you don't have to wait too long to hear from me. Again, I have nothing to 
teach you or anybody else on ethical dilemmas. Let's just say I'm going to speak 
from the heart (well, the uninhibited one's heart!).

First, a formal introduction from me. I'm a male in my late forties, married 
with three teenage daughters (ranging in age from 13-16). I have no sexual 
interest in my daughters, not even fantasies (thinking about THEM sexually is an 
anti-fantasy for me). But fantasies about young girls (even very young, but 
older too) and their families that are NOT my family is something I'm guilty as 
charged. I do love my wife and daughters, and we have a happy household. I'd 
like my sex life to be wilder, but what husband wouldn't? I've had a "ying/yang" 
issue since I was a teenager between my inhibited personality and my uninhibited 
personality. Very recently, the later is starting to win out. One reflection of 
that change is for me to be much more overt about expressing my love for my wife 
and daughters. She is wondering what is going on with me. But its not really a 
complaint, it's more like "hey your suddenly being so nice." This different 
"person" is getting strange looks, with a few giggles tossed in.

My physical looks, well, I have a modestly natural athletic build (I write this 
after working out this morning at the gym). I get feedback from time to time 
that the first impression of women that meet me is that they often find me 
"cute." My wife keeps a wary eye on that, and blurted out once "your cute and 
you know it!" But while I like that, my previously dominant inhibited 
personality never took advantage of it. I've never been unfaithful. 

I have a well paying professional job with excellent job security, and based on 
my formal education, I am considered very well educated. I live in the U.S., but 
that's all I need to say for now.

But, as you might guess, my uninhibited personality is chock full of fantasies. 
Why else would I have consumed your website with such enthusiasm? Have no fear, 
you will not get from me, now or ever, a flaming email. In fact, I do hope you 
take an interest in me. I would enjoy a regular and continuing correspondence 
with you. Of course, that's your choice, but since you asked directly and 
repeatedly for feedback on your points of view as expressed in your "About Me" 
section, then I'm only answering your request (albeit with great enthusiasm). I 
hope you will answer my request to become a correspondent of mine. In fact, I 
would enjoy the challenge of corresponding about just about anything that 
interests you, and the topic of hand (ethical dilemmas and your position on 
underage sex) was going through my mind throughout my morning workout. It's a 
great way, by the way, to keep your mind off how much you hate doing crunches 
(my abdomen is my chink in the armor, not pot bellied by any means, just not as 
tight as it once was).

But in keeping with the emergence of my uninhibited personality, I would like 
the correspondence to be allowed to be as explicit as the rest of the writings 
on your web page. Why? Because, I would like to propose "scenarios" and get your 
comments. After all, a core set of principals is only as good as their 
manifestation in actual circumstances. Your father the attorney knows that:  The 
law does not really exist outside of the cases in which it has been tested.  So, 
for me to understand your true position, I would like to explore some rather 
explicit scenarios with you. You must agree with the principal, since your 
ethical dilemmas page is all about scenarios. They just happen to be real ones 
(I'm taking your word for that, of course). My scenarios will not be real, only 
fantasies concocted to put the principals you advocate or that you DON'T 
advocate into perspective. At times I might point out inconsistencies I believe 
I may have spotted. Of course, you will have every opportunity to explain it to 
me why my perception of an inconsistency is incorrect, and I will guarantee you 
that I will ALWAYS respect your position. Maybe we might agree to disagree (that 
is, whether there is an inconsistency or not), but I will NEVER be judgmental. 
After all, I've enjoyed the HELL out of your website. I'm not going to call the 
kettle black! Really, I just want to understand you better. And by your own 
admission, some of your positions are, well, complicated. If I, from time to 
time, make reference to the "larger societal position on a particular matter." 
For example is oral sex sex? Well, you have pointed out more than once that that 
issue didn't turn Bill Clinton's way. But having said that, I realize that you 
make no representations that you expect your positions to be accepted by 
"regular society" which I agree with. It IS ample justification, in my mind, for 
you to keep many aspects of your sexual identity, including the real identity of 
the person stewarding your website, a secret from "regular society." I realize 
that that is not because you are ashamed of your position nor are you insincere 
in your position, but since you must function in "regular society" to make a 
living, and so must other members of your family, it is a necessity. So must I, 
of course, which is why I am using an anonymous email address. So, to different 
degrees, we're in the same boat.

Well, that's my short introduction. My motivation? Simple, to let my uninhibited 
personality to explore my fantasy and maybe other people's reality (yes, just 
like I saw you admit in one of your chats, I find the plausibility of reality in 
some of them mighty erotic) to the LIMITS. So, with your permission, I will be 
uninhibited in my correspondence should you encourage me to continue. And that's 
how I would like to wrap up this introductory email. Before I write a bunch of 
fantasy's interlocated with introspection on issues raised either directly in 
your various position statements or indirectly in the circumstantial evidence of 
the rest of the website (especially the chats, which are my FAVORITE), I need 
your encouragement.

Now, you may be skeptical to enter into correspondence without "proof" that it 
will be interesting to you. I realize that, so I would like to suggest what I 
will do should you encourage a continuing correspondence and reciprocate 
adequately to make it worth my time and effort.

1. I will write "Chat Sequence" Fantasy's and narrative fantasy's (more of the 
   former, probably) to provide the context for the discussion. 

2. I will be sympathetic to "who your are" at all times. Remember, I'm NOT a 
   flamer! But I like to debate (I'm said to be pretty good at it, but from the 
   chat logs you've posted you are incredible persuader!). At the end of the 
   day, I'm really only interested in understanding your positions better and 
   testing them in contextual situations. I have no interest in challenging your 
   positions. If, however, you choose to reflect on our conversation and 
   challenge them yourself, well, just let me know, because I will be thrilled 
   to eliminate the confusion in my mind on tricky points.

3. I will be happy to establish "credibility" with you, if that's important to 
   you. I'm a male, so I can do tributes, and my uninhibited side would JUMP at 
   the chance. But that's up to you.

Warmest Regards,
Dan


Chapter 2 - My Mother
=====================

Dear Kelly,

Thanks for sharing the few minutes you had available with me chatting this 
afternoon. It put some things in perspective, but left me not a bit short on my 
original enthusiasm for you.

So, when we had to "hang up" I had just started blathering about my personality 
while growing up and the topic of my perception of my Mother's point of view 
about sexuality came up. Don't know why it did as it's only one piece of a 
puzzle about myself, but since you asked to hear more via email, why not?

But before I get started, let me lead with one thought. The following is the 
"truth" as I know it and/or can remember it.  Why do people like me confide true 
personal details (even to the point of web-camming it!) to a person like you? 
There are folks who, if they read this, would know who wrote it. And given your 
privacy policy why would I go down that path? It's one thing for "Heather" to 
ask pointedly about including my wife in future chats. Does it matter to 
"Heather" that even if my "wife" starts showing up in chats with "her" (after a 
decent interval to keep pretenses of the fantasy up), it would only be role 
playing by me?  I don't think Heather would care, or maybe even Heather expects 
that. And since I'm messing around with all you all for more than just the 
interesting intellectual dialog, meaning I'm ok with some nasty fantasy thrown 
in the mix, then I'm inclined to fulfill "her" wish. But that's with Heather, 
not with you.  With you, I'm going to stick to the truth as much as possible and 
try not to lie, unless we are ourselves in fantasy land. For some reason, I 
don't want to lie to you. If we get to a point where I can't tell the truth, 
I'll just change the subject.

So where did I come from and what was my mother like during critical phases of 
my adolescence? On the face of it, not much different than most middle-upper-
middle income families with a father who was a professional and a mother that 
had stopped her college education to marry my father (no unintended pregnancies, 
just "kids" closing the deal). My mother's mother was against such 
traditionalism, she wanted college educated children even though she and my 
mother's adoptive father were not. Grandmother was a very intelligent person, 
and a hard but not poverty stricken life had made that ambition for her children 
real. She would eventually be rewarded, but in the beginning, the decision to 
get married had a taste of disappointment in the usual feast of celebration.  

What kind of professional did my mother stop her education to marry? If you've 
ever seen the movie "An Officer and a Gentleman" then you know the story. While 
it wasn't a factory girl getting the Naval Aviation Cadet, it was a young 
college coed from a family of limited means. Otherwise, it was, from what I can 
gather, a lot like the movie.

Four children followed in the first half of the 1960's. The nature of my 
father's job meant travel. Unlike some of the stereotypes about people in his 
profession, he was a family man and did not like long separations from his 
family. Therefore, his family traveled to far away places with him. 

Eventually, we ended up in California, even though that was not where any of us 
were born. My mother restarted her college career part time, at a time when the 
"non traditional student" had not even been invented. Eventually, we ended up in 
the vicinity of San Francisco for the longest period of our lives to date. I was 
able to finish elementary school there. My mother finished her college degree, 
getting a bachelors in sociology from one of the state universities in the area. 
The long time coming accomplishment was rather unusual at the time. The local 
paper (a large circulation daily newspaper) ran an article in the style section 
recounting her accomplishment. We were all in the feature picture.

The time period was the early 1970's. Dad was away on the longest separation he 
would ever serve. Yes, Haite Ashbury was at its peak. And we were within driving 
distance. My mother is a devout Christian woman. All of us children were raised 
in an environment of regular church going (my family does so as well, after a 
long period before kids of not doing so). The parish was large and dynamic. And 
the church was a haven for people with an appreciation for changing attitudes. 
Not counter culture, no far from it, but just ready to take a look at the new 
ideas and new ways. The parish separated into "traditionalists" and 
"reformists." Both factions were of the same parish, but chose to worship in 
different buildings. It kept the peace. We almost always worshiped with the 
reformists.  My mother got to know high-school age young people (no hanky panky 
that I know of) through babysitters, etc. I remember several occasions driving 
to "cultural events" in San Francisco. One involved a walk through Haite Ashbury 
with several of the young people (including us but we were bored and not 
particularly impressed). Some of the youngins picked up copies of the local 
underground newspapers and read them on the drive home. We were shooed away from 
them.

On another occasion, we drove to see an art exhibition at a major downtown 
museum. My mother is an artistic person with an appreciation of the masters. 
Part of the exhibition was a collection of nudes. I was partly mortified, partly 
beside myself with lust. This was better than national geographic. My mother 
dealt with the protests with a standard explanation. "The human body, especially 
the female body, has always been the subject of fine art." 

But the conflict with the "partly this" and "partly that" side of my nature 
became a personality conflict that I still struggle with.  The public facade 
could be of a shy prude. The private facade was of sexual turbulence and desire 
for verbal and graphical satiation. That side stayed under wraps, except much 
later around close male friends and when further assisted with alcohol.  But 
that evening, during the non-trivial drive home, I was broken open by the 
paintings and the encouragement of my mother to participate in their viewing. 
That encouraged me to ask some questions. We had long since had the birds and 
the bees conversation (from her naturally), but my interest was now about 
sexuality and attitudes, not procreation.  I don't remember all of the 
questions, but I know I tried to escalate with less and less hypothetical 
questions and more and more personal questions. My mother matched every 
escalation with a calm totally honest seeming answer. So, maybe I started to get 
a little frustrated. Wasn't there something that I could ask that would reveal 
the "wrongness" of some of this? Something must have popped in my head. 
Something like "Well, if the female body is so beautiful that we can view 
paintings of them, what about viewing pictures of them?" So, I went for the 
juggler. 

"Mommy, before you were married, if you could have posed in Playboy magazine, 
would you have?"

My mother paused (in my feeble recollection) realizing this was a bit of trap. 
She did not want to shock me with willfully condoning naughty magazines. But she 
had encouraged me (and my siblings) to look at those paintings. She just smiled 
and said, "Yes, maybe I would have, but the opportunity never arose."

Stunned into silence was my reaction.  What kind of mother did I have?

A college educated mother with a degree in sociology, that's what kind. Which 
means, she "objectively" studies people and their cultures. And, she was a 
creature of a "new age." And she had pre pubescent children, but only just so, 
on her hands without a possibly more conservative father's input for the moment.

My mother was also not much of a prude when it came to her body. But she was not 
an exhibitionist, or even an "open household" type mother either. We walked 
around the house with clothes on at all times. But, with everything that was 
going on in a busy household, sometimes perfect prudence was not possible. It 
was a rare but regular event that I would somehow manage to walk into her 
bedroom when she was dressing, or sometimes just be in the hallway when she was 
running around undressed, trying to get dressed, while trying to do something 
else at the same time. Like I said, it was rare, but it did not bother her. She 
would just laugh. Much later, when I was an older teenager or even in college 
visiting during the holidays or summer, the "event" would always frustrate me. 
"MOM!" I would shout as I turned away, while she just laughed and sometimes said 
"it's alright!"

Today's kids have coined a term for these kinds of things:  TMI = TOO MUCH 
INFORMATION! I heard that recently at a soccer team party in which the grown ups 
were talking in a group with the teenage girls sitting nearby and somehow the 
"vision" of their parents having sex was dropped into the larger group 
discussion. One of the girls shouted "YUCK, TMI!" with the girl's mother 
giggling nearby.

We eventually moved away from California for a last tour in my father's chosen 
profession. It was a fun time, both for us and for them. The basic "business 
unit" that my father worked in was led by older more experienced men like my 
father, but was filled with young, energetic men, often with young attractive 
and outgoing wives. Even though the job was demanding for all concerned and time 
consuming, the culture of the business unit was "party hard when time 
permitted." "Fun" was measured in parties that now boggle my mind. They would 
last long into the night. I was at babysitting age and there were few other ways 
to make money. It was not unusual for me to be woken up by returning parents at 
four in the morning and then to walk home (those were the days). Sometimes, it 
was the crack of dawn. I have no reason to believe that any of these parties 
crossed in moral lines, but the nature of the beast was such that there were at 
least a few wives having more than their fair share of fun while husbands were 
detained by work (tittering on such matters occurred above my pay grade). I have 
no reason to ever believe this was the norm, and certainly not for my parents.  
But I remember one couple that I babysat for. It's difficult now for me to 
believe that any of MY friends or family would ever permit my teenage daughters 
(or sons if had them) to experience what this hip but not wild looking couple 
casually suggested to me (no, it was not to have sex with them or anyone else, 
still, the details are a bit crazy to me given "today's" prohibitions on 
encouraging sexual topics among minors). But that's a story for another day. I 
did meet this couple again several years later when I was a senior in high 
school under circumstances that were ironic to say the least. Again, another 
topic, another day. And, by the way, I'm not making this up!

Even though I was a teenager during the whole time of the assignment, I had been 
too immature to really take advantage of the raging sexuality that teenage girls 
who were my peers were then experiencing (only later did I get a full 
appreciation of what was going through some of their heads). Despite that, I did 
have a few desperate girls try to get my attention. But now the inhibited 
personality stood up and defended my virtue. My uninhibited personality, 
however, had no end to the fantasies, and daily masturbation was the norm. But 
"reality" was always kept in a bottle. My mother and father did not push 
anything. Still, I went to dances and loved to dance with the hotties. (Some of 
the music of the day is on my iPod and brings back very fun memories. It's funny 
how much my daughters love the stuff!)

Eventually, this job assignment ended, and we all moved to the East coast where 
I was to graduate from high school and attend college. During the trip home to 
the East coast, we as a family had a little R&R. My mother wanted to go to 
Paris, which was an overnight train ride away. My brother and I chose to 
accompany her, not for "Ullallah," but for museum visiting and to say we had 
been there. After all, by then I was a seasoned traveler and had already 
explored the red light district of Amsterdam as a 16 year-old along with other 
high school chums. Believe it or not, the inhibited one thought this was an 
embarrassing spectacle that right minded individuals should avoid, although I 
was not so offended that I wouldn't take a peek. I just didn't want other right 
minded individuals in our larger party to spot us peeking (the chaperone didn't 
seem to care, what an age that was!). We mostly marveled at the ability of us 
not-even-old-enough-to-drive types to investigate the magazine sex shops and to 
visit virtually any bar and, in a squeaky voice, order up a Heineken; which I 
didn't even like at the time.

Anyway, my father and two younger siblings visited another city while we went to 
Paris. Upon arriving, my mother decided that she wanted to see the follies. I 
was sixteen, my brother was fourteen. Go to the Paris Follies? With my MOTHER? 
This was NOT going to be about art, that much I knew. But in search of 
entertainment during a very short visit, she procured tickets and "dragged" us 
to the Follies. In addition to the many naked or semi-naked beautiful women, the 
real signature image I remember was of a women suspended in air by cables, with 
legs spread wide, being lowered slowly but surely onto a brass dildo (boy, did 
the spot lights shine off that thing!) that was protruding from some type of 
cushioned piece of furniture. And my mom was right next to me. I assumed she 
enjoyed it. My hard-on kept me from thinking about anyone else.

Well, after THAT what could a sixteen year-old boy do? Later that night in the 
hotel room, could I hold back from masturbating this unbearable stimulation away 
until some more convenient time? You see, the damn fleabag hotel room we got on 
short notice only had one bed. Mom was in the middle. I tried to be discrete, 
but how discrete can you be? She had to know, but said nothing. What a mom. No, 
she did not help, and NO, I'm not making this up.

Anyway, back on the east coast, I completed my last two years of high school. 
Finally, in my senior year, I met a girl and the inhibited one inside of me was 
gagged and bound long enough for me to ask her out to a fall dance. And, after 
that, I was off to the races. My mom did not school me or give me advice. But 
knowing the "helper" that she is, and the busybody that she can be, especially 
about more spicy topics, it might not have been from lack of want on her part. 
It was just that I was busy as hell:  night job in a restaurant, early mornings 
to get to school, and after-school days spent at the girl friend's house 
supervised and feeling chained up and domesticated. What had I compromised to 
get into this girls panties? Probably a lot, but I did get into them, and slowly 
turned a love-crazed 16-year old into a sexually lust-crazed "woman." 

I remember when I finally convinced my girl friend by just doing it that eating 
her pussy would produce pleasure beyond her comprehension.  One night I came 
home bleary eyed and desperately in need of going to bed (no alcohol was 
involved). My face was literally covered with the girl's pussy juice. Literally 
covered, and still a tad damp. My mother's lamp was still on in her room. My dad 
was fast asleep (he had a day job that started early). My mom was reading. She 
called to me as I tried to discretely walk through the hall on the way to my 
room. I went to their bedroom door. She said she was glad I was home and told me 
to come over and kiss her good night. ACK! Panic immediately set in.

"No mom, if it's alright with you, I'm tired. Another time."

"Dan, come over here and give your mother a kiss good night."

"Uh, no mom."

"Yes Dan. Come HERE!"

Sigh. "Ok, Mom." You asked for it, I thought. 

I still shake with laughter over that one. She didn't say anything. I have no 
idea what if anything she noticed. But, as I found out years later in more than 
one "TMI" event, she could be a bit more randy thinking in her observations and 
thoughts.

And then there was college and other glory days. But, as Bruce Springsteen says, 
they're just boring stories anyway.

So, fast forward to years later. I'm married with young kids. So is my brother. 
My family and I are visiting my brother's house with all cousins playing happily 
somewhere else. The adults are at the dinner table finishing a dinner 
conversation laced with the usual plentiful wine. My mother is among us, the 
mother and grandmother in all her glory. We are all mid thirty somethings. She's 
in her late fifties. The conversation gets mildly sexual. My brother can't help 
himself and relates some apocryphal story about the highly popular "Marriage and 
Family" course that was taught at the university he attended. The story 
supposedly has the instructor going through the details of the contents of 
seminal fluid. The instructor mentions some "ingredient" or another that is in 
the seminal fluid. Some ditzy coed supposedly blurts out something like "is that 
why it tastes like that?" And the table cuts up. My wife laughs (nervously, 
looking at me with shifty eyes). My brother, the story teller, laughs but looks 
awkward when the one laughing the hardest is none other than our mother. I 
chuckle in a perfunctory way but the inhibited one inside of me wants to crawl 
under the table.  

But that's just the beginning. My brother and his wife at the time were trying 
to have a second child (they eventually do so, not long before they get 
divorced!). Given my brother's profession, this posed certain problems of 
timing. My mother goes off the deep end and recommends that her daughter-in-law 
gather samples from her husband and use a turkey baster to finish the job at the 
most opportune time. Yeah, right mom. If I'm paying child support, the turkey 
baster isn't going to have the fun. My wife is laughing again and looking at me 
like "hey, it's YOUR mother!" Neither of us can imagine HER mother making that 
suggestion.

Fast forward to another day and time. I can't remember the exact attendance, but 
we are at my parents home. I think my wife is with me. I think both my brothers 
are there, but I could be mistaken. It is a pleasant, relaxed evening. We are in 
the kitchen with either pre- or post-dinner putzing around going on. Again mild 
but continuous social drinking has left everyone free thinking and loose 
tongued. Somehow, my mother gets to describing the "tittering" that I mentioned 
earlier. This gossip was pervasive in the close nit group of young adults that 
formed the "business units" in my dad's original profession. This is the 
"tittering" that was above my pay grade when I was a kid. So, mom starts to 
talk. And she decides that we don't fully appreciate that she harbors truly 
above average gossip, not just "who was fucking whom" way back when with people 
we couldn't even remember. No, she had to bring out the timeless stories. Like 
the young wife who spent many days and nights alone or in the company of the 
other wives because the nature of the job took the husbands aways for days on 
end. She had a dog. A male dog, my mother says. Now, I'm starting to think I 
need to head downstairs for a cold brew before we get to the punch line. 
Fortunately, the punch line landed slightly below the mark I thought she was 
going to set. The young wife, it seems, would feel sorry for the un-neutered 
dog, and masturbate it to completion. With my mother shaking with laughter on 
recounting this story from long ago in front of her adult children and at least 
one daughter in law, I decided to take control of the situation before we got to 
the REALLY good stuff, whatever that might be. 

"MOM! TMI!!!"

Ok, so you asked. Satisfied?

Love,

Dan

P.S. I had a long chat with Heather. I'll let you in on the log as soon as I get 
a chance. Got to go to bed now.


Chapter 3 - Lusting For My Daughter's Friends
=============================================

You can't imagine how hot some of these sweeties are. But the two that are 
hottest to me aren't so because they're the little Britney Spears of the teams 
in looks, but because they just ooze lusty personalities. I'll work on it.

Those two girls are sultry. Black hair, with the older one having an olive-
colored skin that gives her a sort of "year round tan" look. The younger one is 
13, same as Amanda. The older one is 15, same as Cheri. The younger is Crystal 
while the older one is Debbie. Debbie always seems to wear shorts highlighting 
her gorgeous legs and one of those yarn ankle bracelets that beachy-hip hotties
like. 

Crystal is moody and boiling with sexual emotion. She's boy crazy as observed by 
my wife during carpooling trips. When one of her teammates in the carpool, who 
knows the older boy she lusts for, told her "he doesn't even know you exist, 
he's going out with such and such..." Crystal went bonkers screaming "NO! HE'S 
MINE!"  My wife said it was all she could do to stay on the road while laughing. 
I wasn't there, but that just confirmed my impression of her from being around 
her for a good period of time.

Do I masturbate about those girls? Strange, but not really. They are both kinda 
shy around me and so I don't have a "playmate" fantasy going with them. Some of 
my fantasy's about girls and groups of girls that age are pretty nasty (which 
I'm building material from for a try at story writing soon) but these fantasies 
don't seem to have the real faces of those girls on them.  

Now, one of Amanda's teammates that checked me out while standing in the doorway 
of my a hotel room recently at a tournament, well SHE was masturbation fantasy 
number one for awhile. Her name is Kari. The almost pathetic leer on her face as 
her eyes went from my shoulders to my shorts and back again told me that this 
was one 13 year-old girl with adolescent lust boiling inside, which I had 
largely missed before. But we're new to this team so I hadn't really had a 
chance to notice I suppose.  (What happened was that I opened the door to the 
knock with only short shorts on assuming that only Amanda would be there trying 
to get in but I was surprised to see two of her teammates hangin out with her at
the doorway. It had probably little or nothing to do with me, just the idea of a
man's body there to be gawked at by a girl curious about such things.) But 
nothing more has happened with Kari, so it's faded a bit in my masturbation 
imagery.

Amanda and Cheri have played with Crystal and Debbie before on other teams, so I 
know them better and have a better impression of their personalities. That's why 
they score higher on my hottie top 10 list.


Chapter 4 - About My Daughters
==============================

Dear Kelly, 

Thanks for keeping me company Saturday night. I enjoyed our chat. When Cheri was 
leaving for school this morning, I pulled her aside very briefly and said simply 
"Hey, let's try not to give away that homework, no matter how persuasive those 
boys are. They will only get more persuasive!" And then I gave her a reassuring 
hug and a kiss. She laughed and said ok.

But I spent most of the weekend with Amanda and her team. Attached is a cute 
shot of Kari (left) and Amanda on Saturday. The day was sunny, warm and 
beautiful. Typical early October around here. That's what I had just finished 
experiencing when you complained about the cold. Guess what? I was too smug. By 
the next morning, a nasty storm blew in and it was raining continuously with a 
cool blustery wind all damn day. The second image is what our sideline looked 
like. Yuck! If it makes you feel any better, I had to stand in that all day.

But, I'm sure your more interested in the first image. I posed it for you, so 
you could "meet" Kari. But when my wife saw it last night, she thought it was 
real cute. They both look so innocent and sweet (and they are). But imagine 
Kari's brace-filled smile turned into a leer with her eyes popping out. That's 
what I saw. Previous experience long-ago with my high school girl friend's 13 yo 
sister reminded me how this age can be. One minute, they're playing like 
children. The next minute, it's total lust. They haven't figured out how to be 
coy yet, so it's like they're wearing it on their sleeve. Not like when they get 
to be 18; then they make the boys crack the veneer.

One more thought. I know you like Cheri's looks, and there is no doubt that she 
is the stereotypical blond, blue-eyed beauty. And she does get picked on at home 
for having "blond moments" even if she doesn't really have many. But as I told 
you the twins have their own advantages. Case in point. This past Sunday. 

It's early afternoon. Amanda and I are huddled in a Starbucks between games 
trying to get warm. She had just ordered and I had just moved to the counter to 
order myself. Amanda is in a soccer uniform, not anything hot. Behind the 
counter are two 30 something petite women, both rather attractive. The usual 
Starbuckians I'm sure, with their progressive political beliefs safely 
consistent with the employee selection policy. But they ARE cute. So, I'd be 
happy for small talk if any opportunity arises. Sure enough, one of them looks 
at me and says "Is that your daughter? Are you her father?"

I was a bit surprised by that line. The place was nearly empty and we were the 
only ones in line. It seemed kind of obvious to me, but hey, I realize 
anything's possible. I said "why yes."

Then she goes, "Well, you do realize that she is very beautiful? I'll bet you 
have to keep the chains on!"

Chains? Hey Ms. progressive Starbucks employee, this is the twenty first 
century. Haven't you read Kelly's diary? 

Ok, I didn't say that. I did say "Thank you. Believe it or not, she has a twin, 
and a 15 year old sister."

The next line from her reset my opinion. "Oh my, you MUST struggle every month!" 

Huh? Did I just hear you right, Ms. 30-something, open minded, can say anything 
to anyone--even strangers--counter woman? Are you now suggesting what it might 
be like to live in a household with three teenage daughters having their 
periods? Does the Starbucks employee training manual cover tips for expressing 
customer empathy? Like "Always offer sympathy to a dad with a house full of 
menstruating teenage girls." What a company. They think of everything. 

But I'd rather have a discount.

When I told my wife about this conversation later that night after climbing in 
bed, she shook with laughter. She had no doubt that that's what the woman was 
getting at. I told my wife that I had wanted to reply while pointing at my neck 
"You should see her in heels, legs up to here."

But I didn't. I just said "It doesn't bother me. I'm ok with this growing up 
thing. It's fun. A great age." 

So the counter woman asked Amanda, who was now listening while messing with the 
whip cream in her hot chocolate, "How old are you honey?"

Amanda says "I'm thirteen."

The woman and her colleague, who's been listening in, look at me with surprise 
on their faces. The woman says "really?" 

I nodded yes. I knew why she was surprised. Amanda is 90% in height among girls 
her age, and is already taller than many grown women. She's a natural athlete 
with a model's body. That's probably what attracted the woman's attention in the 
first place, even through a soccer uniform.

So, that's the latest story fresh off the press. All true, as usual. Never dull 
around here. 

I'm looking forward to chatting again.

Ciao,
Dan


Chapter 5 - My "Playmate" - Part 1
==================================

Dear Kelly,
 
I knew I had a lot of self-examination to do when I read the following embedded 
in a chat with somebody else:
 
     From:    Jonathan Holland <jonholland71@yahoo.com>
     To:      all_for_girls_dr@yahoo.com
     Date:    Thursday, January 15, 2009, 2:08 PM
     Subject: Re: sex life
 
     Dear Heather. 
 
     Yes, I know you're right. The last time we were intimate she just happened 
     to get up really early (5 am.?) and I hadn't gone to bed yet. The bigger 
     thing is that there is a disconnect and has been for a long time. There's 
     never been anything dramatically wrong with us, no infidelity (physically), 
     no abuse or anything but a lot of the time there isn't a lot right with our 
     relationship either. I put "physically" there because we have both been 
     emotionally unfaithful but it never involved actual physical sex. I'm not 
     sure how much difference that makes. I know we can do better with our love 
     life but my heart is tepid. She is a good person and has many fine 
     qualities. I do think well of her. Things aren't bad but I know I hold back 
     some. It's gotten to be a comfortable place for me.
 
Heather is supposedly “counseling” Jonathan and in the process he admits what 
most of us married types hardly ever admit. That each of us make some effort to 
find people other than our “significant others” to give us evidence of our own 
self worth. And I don’t mean a pat on the back or a little email of 
encouragement. I mean participating in the well known, tried and true mechanisms 
of sexual exploration. Some know it by its common name: “flirting.” But that is 
too simple of a description for the vast array of possibilities. Certainly, 
everyone seems to know that flirting of some kind is going on regardless of 
marital status. Ask a wife, any wife, and she’ll trot out plenty of examples. 
 
Or ask Ian Kerner, a sex therapist and relationship counselor with a regular 
column on MSNBC. He wrote an article posted on September 23, 2009 on the subject 
of internet infidelity.  Here’s his professional definition: “Emotional 
infidelity often takes the form of a flirty friendship with someone of the 
opposite sex, in which many of the characteristics of a sexual relationship are 
present, but without the sex. At least, for the moment.”
 
So what? Aren’t we getting a bit sensitive? Splitting hairs, maybe? Consider 
this piece of advice from Kelly herself:
 
     “For guys who “prowl” the malls and think young girls are coming on to 
     them, think again.  I was interested in their ATTENTION, not sex.”
 
Ok, then attention of a certainly sexual nature is ok, right? Does it become not 
ok when or if it becomes sex? Depends, of course. If one or both (or, shit, 
however many there are) of the partners are having sex but are married to 
someone else, well society says that’s bad. Society says this in a lot of 
different ways, but not necessarily through criminal penalties (as long as they 
are consenting adults, of course). If one of those participants is below the 
legal age of consent, well then, it might even get criminal.
 
But why is attention, rather than sex, the intent of this flirtation? Kelly 
again:
 
     “As I got older I noticed boys – and men, looking at me in ways they hadn’t 
     before.  It made me feel good when they did and so I would try to dress and 
     act in ways that drew their attention more.  I was interested in their 
     ATTENTION, not sex.  I teased because it boosted my ego and made me feel 
     grown-up and mature, not with any intent to have sex with anyone.  
     Personally, I think parents should encourage their daughters to tease at 
     this age to build their self-confidence and self-worth.”
 
Sounds mighty logical, undeniable, even natural.  But does this process for 
validating one’s self worth end? Should it end right after “You may kiss the 
bride!”? Or how about when delivering on Meatloaf’s formula for getting some by 
the glow of the dashboard lights: “I’ll love you to the end of time.”? Does the 
need for this attention ever go away? Is it realistic to assume that it should 
only be drawn, like funds from a bank account, from the account numbered “my” 
husband or wife? Ian Kerner cites an expert in his field to warn those of us in 
relationships of the danger:  “According to the late Shirley Glass, whose book 
‘Not Just Friends’ still remains the classic treatise on the subject: ‘Emotional 
affairs are characterized by secrecy, emotional intimacy and sexual chemistry. 
Emotional affairs can be more threatening than brief sexual flings.’”  
 
Well, our culture often makes taboos out of such things. Why not emotional 
affairs, too? But making it taboo hardly changes the root causes, and thus may 
have little impact on people’s true behaviors. Indeed, the taboo may make it 
MORE appealing, especially when secrecy is inherent to the process. But what of 
the root causes? “Needing emotional support” is something the ladies write about 
a lot. If husbands always seem to be complaining about sex (or lack there of), 
it seems equally so that wives are complaining about not getting enough 
emotional support. Nobody’s perfect, but does everybody wait for perfection 
anyway, just in case it might show up tomorrow night in bed? Do I need to answer 
that question?
 
Isn’t it natural to go beyond our significant other for emotional support to 
validate our self-worth?  The whole concept of “family” is the obvious starting 
place for obtaining a huge amount of this daily need, which makes the “empty 
nest” syndrome no laughing matter. I dread it myself. But with only a very few 
exceptions, the kind of emotional support that ministers to our sexual identity 
does not come from immediate family. Kelly herself places long odds on this 
being the right approach for most people.  
 
In fact, as many people know, the word “ego” was coined by Freud in response to 
his interest in individual perceptions of self worth. And he is often reported 
(rightly or wrongly) to have felt that sexual identity was the root of all self 
worth. Ego came from sexual neediness. It was a powerful idea at the time it was 
made. Natural selection was the philosophy on the rise. And obtaining sex was 
such a struggle in the natural world that it could not be separated from the 
human experience, we were told, regardless of countering religious ideas.
 
So do we all solicit some of that emotional support for our sexual identity from 
total strangers? For most people this is the PREFERRED source. After all, for 
the most part we select our sexual mates from the large pool of unrelated 
individuals. That most of us don’t view our mates as strangers does not mean 
they didn’t, by necessity, start that way.  And the VERY FEW times that I have 
been literally picked up by strange women in bars (or at least they tried), I 
felt like I was being plucked from the “fuck a stranger” barrel. A most bizarre 
feeling it was, the few times the experience washed over me. And I rejected them 
all. But why should it be unusual? The speed of the plucking must have been the 
only reason it felt bizarre, because, after all, the idea is for the mate to 
start a stranger, and then become an ardent, and finally an intimate supporter 
of the other guy or gal. Eventually, it is hoped it might even become 
unconditional love, which is more often reserved for offspring than it is for 
spouses. The former were NEVER strangers, the latter by necessity started that 
way.
 
So, even after the selection has occurred, and the rings are on the fingers, the 
kids in the cribs, and joint bank account created, there is still this searching 
for sexual identity through the person of strangers. A “study” reported on MSN 
sometime in the past stated what ought to be obvious:  Women said they were more 
likely to be attracted to a man who clearly conveyed that he was attracted to 
the woman. This explains why flirting is often mutual, but does it explain the 
motivation, the fuel if you will, for flirting? No, the search for regular 
attention to the need for our sexual identities to be confirmed and validated 
seems to be the real motivation. Perhaps a spouse can completely deliver on that 
need. At least in the early stages of the relationship, that might be true. But 
experience shows that over time in the average marriage, neither partner’s needs 
are fully met by the other. Who is surprised by that? We’re only human.
 
But is flirting a violation of relationship rules? Is there “harmless” flirting? 
If so, when does it become harmful? I’ll bet the average woman in a long-term 
relationship will guard the answer to that question carefully. They seem to know 
it when it happens, and then there is hell to pay! But the word “jealous” cannot 
be defined outside of the personal standard that triggers it. For some, it’s a 
dangerously low standard. For many others secure in their relationships the bar 
is considerably higher. It can be described by the popular wifely idiom “I don’t 
care were he gets hungry, so long as he eats at home.”
 
But is this sometimes just the calm before the storm? The naiveté that makes the 
irony of the betrayal seem that much more tragic? And isn’t it true that many a 
relationship has been shattered, at least in the harmony of trust, because of 
the discovery of a “conspiracy” in progress that has not yet consummated itself 
with adulterous sex? You bet your shorts, honey!!! Ian seems to suggest that to 
avoid this disaster, you can’t have ANY secrets:  “As an example, I have one 
password for all of my various e-mail accounts and my wife knows what it is. 
Does she ever use it? I doubt it, but she’s welcome to sift through my e-mails 
anytime she likes. That’s what trust is all about: having nothing to hide and 
being able to respect each other’s privacy. One can’t exist without the other.”
 
So, the question becomes, when are those that do not condone something guilty of 
hypocrisy nonetheless because they are participating in a process that may lead 
to what is not condoned? To borrow an analogy from an unrelated struggle in the 
Baptist denomination, when does a religious conviction against the consumption 
of alcohol become compromised beyond repair? The first sip of wine? After the 
entire glass? How about half the bottle? Or maybe opening a bottle and serving 
it to your non-Baptist friends at a Christmas or New Year’s party, but not 
drinking any yourself? Just when is it no longer ok?
 
You have to be a little older to remember from first hand experience the day 
President Jimmy Carter made headlines for “admitting” to having lusted in his 
heart. This set the country in a tizzy. Did this mean all of us were to be 
ashamed, like the president, for flirting? How about looking at that gorgeous 
set of tits on that secretary that just can’t seem to come to work without the 
slut clothes on?  Watch out! Don’t look if you’re wearing a ring! (I once had to 
deal with a situation not unlike this with my employees. It was painful and no 
fun. I heard the gossip that some of my employees thought I hired her to fuck 
her. My wife even told one of them that “My husband is not fucking that tramp.” 
I’m glad she was right!) What were we to make of this leader of ours? Were we to 
follow his example? Not follow it? Why did it have to be so confusing?
 
Maybe it would have helped for the country to have actually read the longer 
excerpt of what Carter was quoted by Playboy Magazine to have said:
 
     “Because I'm just human and I'm tempted and Christ set some almost 
     impossible standards for us. The Bible says, "Thou shalt not commit 
     adultery." Christ said, I tell you that anyone who looks on a woman with 
     lust has in his heart already committed adultery. I've looked on a lot of 
     women with lust. I've committed adultery in my heart many times.... This is 
     something that God recognizes, that I will do and have done, and God 
     forgives me for it. But that doesn't mean that I condemn someone who not 
     only looks on a woman with lust but who leaves his wife and shacks up with 
     somebody out of wedlock. Christ says, ‘don't consider yourself better than 
     someone else because one guy screws a whole bunch of women while the other 
     guy is loyal to his wife. The guy who's loyal to his wife ought not to be 
     condescending or proud because of the relative degree of sinfulness.’ “
 
Not any less confusing, perhaps, but neither are the notions of free will, 
original sin, and forgiveness only within the context of Christ’s delivery of 
salvation.  One makes one’s owns standards, I suppose, and then makes up their 
own mind to live within them. The consequences may be both earthly and divine, 
but we will face them whatever they are.
 
Kelly appears to agree:
 
     “These are the principles that guide my behaviors. I am not trying to judge 
     or condemn anyone for cheating on their wives - indeed some of my favorite 
     guys to chat with are doing exactly that!”
 
This leads to her flexibility in declaring what she is and is not condoning when 
it comes to adultery:
 
     “Understand that I define "sex" as the physical mating of a male and female 
      (insertion of a penis into my vagina to be technical) so that leaves a lot 
     open!  Now before anyone writes me to complain, once again you have to 
     remember that I do not consider incest to be "cheating".  After all, I am 
     the product of my parents' marriage and thus will always be a part of it.”
 
Well, other than the little matter of the law, and that most of the modern 
Western society’s’ moral codes defines this as a major taboo, well, beyond those 
minor matters, have at it Kelly!
 
Why not indeed? I “have at it” on occasion, too. It just doesn’t rise to the 
same level on the “wow” scale as Kelly. But what of it? Does that mean I 
shouldn’t feel shame nonetheless? Or not, if it pegs as “harmless” on my 
personal meter? In fact, to put me (and a lot of other people) squarely on the 
same limb as Kelly (just closer to the tree trunk, maybe) let me describe a 
couple of scenarios. One left me feeling like I had let myself down, almost as 
if I had committed actual adultery (I didn’t). And the other is almost comically 
harmless. We’ll start with the “harmless” one, if Ian will grant me that 
assumption for the moment.
 
How about this little past time I’ve been enjoying for years in church? It falls 
most closely to Kelly’s tease-in-the-mall game, but it proves that it can be a 
team sport. I play the game with my “playmate.” I recall having had three or 
four over the past several years, one at a time. It’s not important how many or 
whether they played the game exactly the same way. After all, for me, it was 
about MY self worth. And it has never been the main event in my life. To the 
contrary, even the opportunity to play the game comes and goes. And I don’t go 
to church for the game; I’m in church to satisfy the first commandment. But, 
let’s be honest. When I do have a playmate, oh do I look forward to playing! So 
here’s the game. 
 
I live in a college town. That means thousands upon thousands of young people 
come to live in my town every year and stay here until they graduate or leave 
short of that. Some attend services at my church, the vast majority do not. So 
every year there are young ladies who show up for church service who are not, 
that I can tell, hooked up and certainly not married off. Most of these young 
woman waste little time finding somebody. Some came to this university because 
they already have somebody who came here (amazing how many of those flunk out). 
But there is often one or more that for a combination of reasons, isn’t paired 
off. Some of them seem more in need of validating their self worth through 
habitual flirting than others. They’re the ones that seem to people watch more 
intently. Maybe in the process looking for someone looking at them. Someone 
male. When you see this week after week, year after year, it’s really not that 
hard to spot, and then pick up a playmate. I’ve never known the name of any of 
my playmates, and I only saw one of them outside of church. That was at the 
university. She was attending a class that I happened to be guest lecturing.
 
So to illustrate the game, let’s look at this past Sunday, 20 September 2009. In 
fact, I would never have thought to write about my game until this past Sunday. 
Some, after reading this episode (assuming anyone other than me actually does!), 
may even sneer that it’s all in my mind. Well, there is no doubt about the 
reason why I play the game. It’s because of what it does to my mind, not to my 
dick! Having said that, the kind of content that Kelly’s Diary contains, and all 
of ASSTR for that matter, seems to make my game appear ridiculously innocent. 
But, after the game went awry this Sunday, I realized it was worthy of 
recognition. While my game is a very low level flirtation behavior, it seems to 
me to be every bit as representative of the larger game that so many take to 
sexual adultery. Through thinking and then writing about my game, I saw much 
more clearly the motivation for adultery, and in particular Kelly’s pursuit of 
married men.
 
So, let’s walk through last Sunday. As usual, I dropped the family off at the 
front of the church and headed for the parking lot. As I came into the church, I 
headed for our likely outpost. People are remarkably constant about their church 
seating. Jokes are a plenty about unwritten seating assignments, etc. My family 
is no different. Actually, my father-in-law is more often than not the guy that 
anchors the family pew. And lately his choice is a back pew on the left center 
section. To get there, I have to make a turn around a wall and then along the 
back pew.
 
As I make the turn, I notice my family is in the spot that has fairly recently 
become “ours.” And, for the game to be played, the playmate must sit close by. 
The playmate is also already seated, conveniently, right in front of my family. 
How convenient, indeed. Looks like we might “play” this morning! I’m happy. As I 
make the final turn to the entrance of the pew I start assessing my seating 
preference. I could plop down right close to the entrance to the pew, sitting 
next to my daughter. Playmate will be easy to see and be seen. Or, I can step 
over a bunch of legs to slip into an open seat between my wife and an attractive 
Asian woman next to her. The open space is not large, but not cramped either. 
Lately, my thinking has been to make an effort to sit with my wife. So, I decide 
to make the effort. Playmate looks up at me as I enter the pew. I notice the 
look, but choose not to do my usual confirming look, with a slight smile usually 
added in. I got legs and feet to avoid, so I defer the look.
 
I navigate the legs and feet and settle in next to my lovely wife. She’s happy 
and I’m happy. She’s questioned me in the recent past about why I seemed to 
avoid sitting next to her. She’s noticed my behavior, especially now that the 
kids are older and the father-in-law moved us to a more accommodating location. 
I know that the impact of an obvious change in my seating on the playmate was on 
my mind, but what could that be? Playmate’s a subtle flirt partner, NOT a 
mistress, right? I have a lot more to gain by showering attention on my wife, 
and that is my plan going forward. My wife knows that’s my intention, and she 
has even recently told me that she’s been enjoying the extra attention. But we 
have 5 minutes or more to kill before the service begins. Why not play a little 
with playmate if she’s willing to play?
 
She is. With time to kill, people-watching is fun. Playmate likes to watch the 
front. It requires her to turn in her pew, twist her head and look. I get 
involved when the head turns more and her eyes come my way. Contrary to popular 
opinion, people do not have eyes in the back of their heads. To look backwards 
takes effort. It’s obvious. I try to reward the effort with a casual look 
directly in the eyes. It happens every week. I’m used to it. I enjoy it. I even 
look forward to it. We study each others facial expression. It sounds juvenile. 
It probably is. But even if I can’t read playmate’s mind, like the Alan Parson 
Project’s “Eye in the Sky,” I can sure read her face. Anybody can. Look at your 
emoticon menu. It’s called body language. People make a science out of it. 
Playmate looks down, checking me out (hey playmate, there’s nothing done there 
but pants and shoes!). Playmate has taught me why women always know when we’re 
looking at their tits. It’s obvious. But as I read on-line once, when looking at 
a woman that you want to FEEL you emotionally, always, ALWAYS, look her right in 
the eyes. That’s what I do. She’s satisfied and turns back forward. So far, so 
good.
 
As the service drags on, playmate scans back from time to time. Sometimes I try 
to catch her eyes, sometimes I ignore it. Don’t want to creep her out. It’s mild 
flirting, not staring. Gotta discipline myself, sometimes, on the difference. 
But, so far, it’s about typical. We’re killing time supporting each other 
emotionally, however subtle and limited it might be. I’m convinced it’s 
happening because I feel the support from her. It’s fun for me. Isn’t it 
harmless, too?
 
But my wife is next to me. There’s potential fun to be had with her too. And 
this can be more explicit, less subtle. I look at her. Nice cleavage in the cute 
black top. She says she wears stuff like that for me. I believe her. And anyway, 
I like it. I also like that she often wears that cute silver necklace that I 
bought for her in Greece. The pearl plunges on a thin silver chain toward her 
cleavage. It’s sexy. I lean over to her. She leans over toward me expecting to 
hear a whispered comment on a routine topic. Like “That’s too bad that George 
Forman’s 90 year old uncle died, what a tragedy!” Or “Is it just me, or is the 
Klaus’s teen daughter pregnant?” 
 
Instead, I lean over and say “Sexy girl!” My wife’s head moves away with a twist 
of the mouth and an angle of the brow that says “why are you being naughty 
here?” You see, that’s a phrase I’ve been using during love making. In recent 
memory, I can’t think of a time when I’ve said that to her outside of that 
context. She thinks and then gives me a wily look. 
 
“You just like this top!”
 
Knowing I’ve scored points, I added “Not just that, I love that necklace I 
bought you in Greece. It looks great with that top.”
 
She smirks at that and turns back toward the service. Before I do the same, I 
take one more look at her and her pretty blond hair. I know I have one more 
intimate, insiders, factoid to use. You see, I know that she dyed her hair last 
night before coming to bed. Only a husband would know that. I lean back over to 
her.
 
“And anyway, every guy likes to sit next to a hot blond!”
 
The irony of that insider’s joke is not lost on her. She screws her head up with 
an open-mouthed gawk trying not to laugh out loud. 
 
“Gotcha!” I think.
 
My own head twists the opposite direction and upward so that it’s 45 degrees 
past the front in the opposite direction with my chin 15 or 30 degrees above 
normal. My mouth is twisted in a lecherous toothy grin. I’m enjoying the overt 
and intimate exchange with my wife, especially because we are ignoring, however 
briefly, our pious duty to worship, not mess around! It’s not quite Kelly’s 
antics in church, but hey, everyone has their own thing.
 
In my peripheral vision as my head swivels to this un-natural position I spot 
playmate’s head shaking around. What’s that? A double hair flip! I hadn’t seen 
one of THOSE since that bar in Panama City! Hmmm, what’s that about? I see her 
head has turned to the “look at me” position. In my slowly ebbing remaining 
mirth, I decide to swivel my head back to normal and catch her thoughts.
 
As I settle on her eyes, still with a hint of smirk on my face, I realize that 
playmate is not going to look away. Wow, looks like playmate is getting almost 
reckless. So am I, I decide. I lock her gaze and read her face. It’s not the 
normal slack faced receiver of attention. No, not at all. What do I see? 
Jealousy? No, not quite that. Reproach? Yes, that’s it. Reproach. I’m being 
scolded! How do I know? The furrow of the brow, I decide, that’s it for sure. 
 
“Ha!” is my initial reaction. Now I see one of the advantages of the game:  
Nothing verbal. That’s right, playmate, only my wife can rip me a new one 
verbally. Finally, she breaks and slowly returns to face the front and the 
service. The game, I sense, is over for now. 
 
It’s not unusual as the service continues into the complexity of the various 
rites for the game to peter off anyway. But now I realize that playmate is off 
line. It seems as a result of the event. But what did she take so personally, I 
wonder? Before discovering Kelly’s Diary, I may never have had a clue. After 
all, if she can’t verbally scold me, then I sure can’t ask her what’s bothering 
her, now can I? But I think I have at least a plausible hypothesis. Kelly’s 
motivation for her affairs with married men is my clue:

     “Some of my hottest fantasies and experiences have involved married men.  I 
     love the feeling I get knowing that I am sexy and desirable enough that a 
     man wants me so bad that he will forsake his vows to his wife and risk his 
     career and marriage just to have me for a few hours.”

Could it be true, in a much more sedate way, with playmate, too? Is playmate not 
just interested in getting flirtatious attention from me, but to PROVE it’s 
real, could she actually expect it to come at the expense of the attention I 
give to my wife? 
 
I thought about my seating arrangement controversy that had worked its way out 
over the last couple of months. For years, my father-in-law and my children 
pretty much choreographed our seating arrangements. But recently, with my kids 
often busy playing a role serving in the service and having otherwise matured, 
they were to the point where they were just as happy to let my wife and I sit 
together. No, they have not “disowned” us, it’s just that they can sit around 
their grandfather and do not have to surround my wife. But, then there was the 
influence of granddad’s seating choice. For a reason not important here, he 
usually selected a favorite spot that when the tail-end-Charlie (me) arrived 
from the parking lot it always left me with a choice of my usual opposite end of 
the family seating (meaning not next to my wife) or falling off the end of the 
pew but next to the wife. I had been happy to take the opposite position, and 
playmate was usually sitting where we could play. If truth be known, I liked it 
better that way because I thought I was pretending to be “available.” Meaning 
unattached. How ridiculous! Plenty of people in that church had seen my kids 
baptized as infants and knew my wife  well. Nobody thinks I’m unattached in that 
place. Not even playmate. But I was thinking like a man, not like an intelligent 
person.  It did not occur to me that I may have been communicating to playmate a 
lack of desire to give my wife attention, and that maybe, just maybe, she liked 
that.
 
One person whom it was not lost on was my wife. She had started to jibe me 
gently about not sitting with her. And when the kids started to make that less 
of an ordeal, she would say things like “Do I get to sit with my husband? Wow, 
isn’t that nice.” And jazz like that. I got the message. And frankly, I enjoyed 
the desire on her part for a little attention from me. Who wouldn’t?
 
But, I had the falling off the end of the pew thing going, and I had playmate. 
So, I made a fuss about the end of the pew thing. She became aware of my problem 
with that and cut me some slack because fixing it meant moving her father and my 
kids down the pew after they had settled in. She didn’t want to stir the nest. I 
eventually did. I started making them get up and move down to give me some room. 
Does that sound like a mountain out of a mole hill? Maybe so, but you’d think I 
had come in and stirred up a hen house. The hens were clucking and feathers were 
flying. The jokes about “I lost my warm spot” started to get old. Finally, my 
father-in-law decided that we should move. The reason for sitting there in the 
first place had gone away (another unrelated story). He could afford to move us. 
So, we moved. Not far, just down the same pew, whenever squatters hadn’t already 
claimed our new seats. The new location was opposite of where playmate usually 
sat. And it eliminated the end of the pew problem for me (whether I liked it or 
not!). That’s why my only issue now was climbing over legs and feet to get to 
the spot next to my wife.
 
After our move became “official” in the eyes of the people that pay attention to 
that stuff (took a week or two), I noticed a curious thing. Playmate moved too. 
Hey, way to go playmate! I love you too! Well, at least I love our game.  That’s 
why when I walked into the church and made the turn to our “new” spot last 
Sunday, September 20, I was pretty sure that playing the game was a possibility. 
Playmate’s seat allowed me to play the game sitting at the end next to my 
daughter or the other end next to my wife. I chose to sit next to my wife and 
braved the legs and feet. As ridiculous as it may seem, that was my decision 
making process as I approached the entrance to the pew. I could play the game 
AND sit next to my wife. Sounded optimal to me.
 
But I hadn’t counted on the “reaction” from playmate. That caught me unprepared. 
It would still be a mystery to me if I hadn’t at least thought about the 
parallels between this and Kelly’s motivation for fucking married men. Strange. 
Maybe very strange. The reader of this, assuming somebody reads this other than 
me, may be shaking their head. “What bullshit.” But I was there. It didn’t look 
like bullshit to me.  Maybe the game is over. Maybe playmate will move to the 
other side of the church. If she does, well, I understand. I’m going to keep 
sitting here. We’ll see.
 
I decided to see if I could make it up to playmate. Near the end of the service, 
we have a ritualistic greeting to your nearest neighbors. I’ve always enjoyed it 
because you get to greet the hotties as well as the suits. In the past, it did 
seem to bother playmate a little when I gave my wife a peck on the lips instead 
of the handshake for everyone else. But not enough to end the game or even to 
get a “scolding” by “emoticon” from playmate. This time, given her proximity, I 
made a special effort to greet HER. I went straight for the eyes. She accepted 
my look, and we held it almost noticeably too long. It was a pretty slack face I 
looked into. The reproach was gone. But in its place I thought I read “I’m not 
sure I trust you” impassiveness. I tried to offer an apology by body language; 
as difficult and as improbable as that might sound. It helped being able to hold 
her hand. The fact that she accepted my look, right hard in the eyes and held 
it, told me there was hope yet for the game. We’ll see next week!
 
If you’ll accept my story as real and don’t vomit from its juvenile character, 
then let me ask you: Is this kind of emotional infidelity harmless? That to me 
is the interesting question. Ian Kerner might not agree that it’s totally 
harmless: “The No. 1 danger of Internet infidelity is not that it could lead to 
actual sexual infidelity, but that it so easily diverts precious emotional 
resources away from one’s core relationship.” When I was a much younger man, and 
thought women think like men, I would have ridiculed that assertion. But, I have 
to admit the feeling that it may have happened to me, even if just a tiny bit. 
And it was not just me feeling that way. Remember, my wife and I had a rather 
involved (but friendly) multi-week go around about sitting together in church, 
and I knew that at least one reason was my concern about the impact on playmate 
and our game. If I had told her about that, I’m sure she would have thought 
about having me committed. But, hey, I KNOW what was going through MY mind.
 
You see, I thought sitting with my wife would hurt my “relationship” with 
playmate even if I thought it would for almost certainly the wrong reason. It 
didn’t at first. It didn’t really matter that I was sitting next to my wife, 
because we often played the game anyway. As late as this last Sunday, in fact, 
we were still playing the game. That is, until I made the “mistake” of showing 
playmate that my wife and I would share a very intimate moment in front of her, 
even if she did not know what it was about. It was just too obvious that we were 
sharing soul satisfying emotional support, and playmate perceived it coming at 
her expense. At least, that is what I think. I may never know for sure. Maybe I 
should be committed for believing it, but I don’t think so.  
 
I would never have written about this episode in the absence of the above 
lesson, experienced by me in person this last Sunday. It’s so innocent. How 
could it possibly rate mention among experienced ASSTR readers used to getting 
their kicks from stories about fucking five year olds? Well, none of that here, 
but that’s beside the point. In my mind, and maybe with a trained professional 
like Ian Kerning to back it up, I began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, Kelly’s 
short flings with married men, terminated habitually after one fuck like some 
black widow spider, might be “less harmful” than my almost imperceptible 
emotional infidelity. It sounds incredible to me to write that last sentence. 
I’m not sure I even believe it yet. But I can see that it could be true, if 
continued to the necessary level.
 
So what of another episode, a long time ago, that STILL did not produce sexual 
adultery, but that left me emotionally scarred over my behavior? Well, that’s 
next.


Chapter 6 - My "Playmate" - Part 2
==================================

On the follow-up with playmate this morning, guess what? She was "off line" no 
ifs ands or buts. Funny, really. I gave her a chance when she was reading off 
her neighbor's bulletin. I know she saw me in her peripheral vision. But with a 
slight uptick in her cheek ("I caught you"), she turned back away. I know that 
meant "No!  Game over!"

No big deal. In writing about the whole thing to you, I kind of decided I was 
investing too much emotional capital in the game for what I was getting. If I 
invested that with my wife, man, what could I reap? So I worked my wife this 
morning while getting ready for church. And she rewarded me by dressing up the 
way I like. Hey, bigger bang for the buck at home! I rewarded her by not missing 
an opportunity to compliment her and tell her what I liked. Life's simpler than 
I used to think.

But, playmates abound. I tailgated all day yesterday (great party). Got to watch 
myself. If I get emotionally sucked in, I'm afraid I could be toast with respect 
to maintaining my marital fidelity. Gack! Don't want to mess up!

The "playmate" I mentioned is a recent development brought about by my 
personality change I've been trying to affect. Three weeks ago I went to the 
first tailgate of the season armed with a firm desire to keep the "inhibited 
one" gagged and bound so that my uninhibited side could steer the ship for 
awhile. Armed with a few truisms gleaned from the internet (like "always look 
‘em right in the eyes") I was determined to make the best of it. But truisms 
aren't enough, of course. So it wasn't until I discovered your website and read 
the "about me" section that I started truly feeling uninhibited verbally. What 
did you teach me that made this possible? Well that women are not inhibited 
beings requiring tea and crumpet polite conversation with men. I should say what 
I FEEL about them and trust they will take it the right way, as long as I'm 
being genuine and not creepy. 

One of the organizers of the tailgate is a good friend of mine from a business 
in town that he works at ("Robert"). He's divorced with grown up kids and is 
around my age. He says that his wife divorced him when he took the job here 
cause she didn't want to move from where they were living (I wouldn't suggest 
that's the whole story, but I don't know any more). Since then, he crows about 
the great life he's having courting women both in town and elsewhere. He likes a 
girl in every port, it seems. One of my female friends that is a coworker likes 
to bash him over that, but he says he's having a good time. He does have to 
manage the out-of-towners so that invitations to visit during a party weekend, 
like last Labor Day weekend (college football opening day) don't cause 
conflicts. Rough life. That weekend was Silvy.

My father-in-law took my second ticket but didn't want to go to the tailgate. 
That left me unescorted. When I walked up to the tent most of the people I 
already knew and so I settled in with my first beer relaxing among friends. I 
was introduced to Silvy, who I saw as an older women (my age or less) with an 
attractive face and hair, a lose tee-shirt and rather tight capri pants on. She 
is not a tall woman so she could curl up in a fold-out chair which is how I met 
her. It was awhile before I even tried a modest conversation with her and at 
first it was just get-to-know-you chatter. She was pleasant but rather impassive 
while talking to me. But there was plenty to do and say with others around the 
tent and I kept drinking beer prior to leaving for the game nearby. At half time 
I noticed that they were letting people back in with their ticket stub. It's 
official policy not to allow that because most people are leaving to return more 
liquored up than when they left. That was my reason initially for leaving. I 
went to the tent and the crowd of none game goers. About equal guys and girls 
were sitting around cutting up about the sorority hotties trying to walk around 
the soft grass in 5 inch heals. Silvy was with them because her "boyfriend" 
Robert went to the game and left her outside, for whatever reason.

I sat down next to her and starting talking more directly with her and about 
her. I noticed that she has large tits, and that they were supported by some 
kind of sexy bra that left them floating, but she had that loose tee on that 
told me that she saw this as a casual party, not a see-and-be-seen cocktail 
event (unlike thousands of college sluts strutting about the commons) and that 
she did not want to defined by her tits hangin out. Her tight capris, however, 
showed off a nicely sculpted pair of thighs and an ass that is not small, but is 
very shapely. For some reason it struck me what button she wanted pushed, and so 
I pushed it.

"Silvy, I hope you don't  mind me saying, but your figure is awesome. You're 
legs are so shapely."

"Without breaking her expression she looked me right in the eyes and said "they 
should for the amount of working out in the gym I do."

Since that's been my kick lately (and I'm heading in the right direction with 
weight loss, abdomen and upper body form) I knew exactly how she felt: Pride 
that she gets results from her hard work and appreciation for a guy noticing and 
SAYING so. Man, this was just too easy.

All I was really after was a pleasant conversation and an attempt to exchange 
attentions for self worth building. And here was modest success. It was time to 
return to the stadium for the second half, so I said "hale and fairwell" to 
everyone but I turned to her and for some reason it possessed me that the thing 
to do was to hug Silvy good bye. I did and she did not hesitate to participate.

After the game the hardcore partiers returned to the tent to finish the evening. 
I talked with Silvy some, but then got into a long conversation about marriage 
with two of Robert's coworkers that dragged on into the night. Then Robert and 
Silvy started moving around to break the tailgate down and as Silvy passed by me 
stepping over stuff, I felt her hand shimmy around my waist and then she goosed 
me down the ass. Hey, I thought, that was interesting. 

In the past, the inhibited one would have told me that I had imagined all that 
and that it was too risky to follow up with any assumptions that this was a sign 
from heaven. But the uninhibited one was in control this night and HE took this 
as an initiation by a potential playmate.

We broke the tailgate down. While Robert went to get his car to load the stuff 
into, Silvy and I found ourselves on the corner in the middle of the campus 
tailgate commons with thousands of people doing the same thing as us, but it was 
like nobody else was there. I told her that I was sorry for neglecting her 
earlier so now she deserved a double helping of attention. I felt her hand and 
arm sweep around my waist and I got treated to a full hug with both tits on the 
chest. Yeah, that's usually good enough even for the inhibited one. The 
uninhibited one was off to the races.

No need to go over the blather, what I remember of it anyway, but I  poured it 
on about her. She told me that she thought the female body is art (just like my 
mom had taught me all those years ago in San Francisco). I might have suggested 
that her body, then, belonged in a museum, or some such stuff. I wasn't trying 
to be corny, I was just continuing the prose that she had chosen; sort of the 
medium for us to be uninhibited about our thoughts about each other. After this 
little exchange, in which I kept my eyes totally buried in hers the whole time 
(and NOT on her chest), she shook her head and blurted out what I really 
remember about the night. She said:

"What have you been doing, reading books about what women want?!!"

I swear to God that is what she said. I wanted to laugh and say "No, I've been 
reading Kelly's Diary!" 

I held off saying that and soon thereafter Robert showed up in his car. When 
they dropped me off at my car I said goodbye. I swear she had such a quiet, 
almost forlorn, look on her face that I thought I could almost read her mind. 
"Why are you letting me go home with this guy?"

Well, because I'm married and not to you. And Robert is a good friend and your 
here by his invitation. She knew all that and so they drove off.

Three weeks later, I was wondering if she would be at the tailgate yesterday. 
The weather started atrocious so it ended up just being me, Robert, and another 
friend from Robert's employer. But no Silvy. I smelled a rat. I didn't have long 
to catch him.

As we waited to greet the team, in the rain, he said without prompting from me: 
"I didn't let Silvy come to town this weekend. I told her I wanted a male 
bonding party and that she was not invited."

I thought for a long moment. Why would this guy cut his own dick out of a fun 
weekend? I ain't screwing him, so what could us "men" be worth compared to 
fucking Silvy? I carefully framed my response, having a hunch what he was really 
telling me.

"Well, Robert, tell Silvy I would have invited her to come."

He looked at me with a gamesmen like face and said "Oh, I know she would have 
too. She kept saying 'I won't bother you Robert, I like talking to Dan, I'll 
just talk to him while you bond with the guys.'"

Ok, then, I felt better. I wanted to tell him that in all likelihood if we found 
each other in a closet together, she wouldn't limit herself to talking. I'm 
pretty confident of that and his admission pretty much removed the last doubt. 

But he didn't want Mr. "Reads-books-about-making-women-happy" throwing a wrench 
into his relationship. Can't blame him. He knows my wife quite well and so I'm 
sure he's also amused by what he sees as Dan's little end around game.

Me, I just wanted to spend some time with my new found playmate. One that is 
much more comprehensive than the church playmates. This "super" playmate I get 
to talk to, touch, and give emotional support for which I am getting a good 
return. Why not? I have no intention of fucking her. But I have to be careful 
because getting emotionally sucked in is really dangerous for me. That is the 
moral of the story about my second episode for the marital infidelity 
commentary, which is still a work in progress.

She called Robert later and asked if I was there. I teased Robert from time to 
time and I could see that he was enjoying the whole game. I think he believes 
that he controls the game in the end by controlling when she is invited to come 
to town. He seems to WANT to tease me and her so he can show me that he gets the 
woman in the end.  He told me that he had already conceded to her coming for a 
particular game in a few weeks. I told him that my wife had already reserved 
that game for her one or two attendances per season (kids claim the rest going 
forward). He smiled like a guy holding the trump cards. 

"That will work out perfect, Dan, that will work out perfect." I think he 
expects the shoot out at the OK corral.

When I needled Robert by asking him to tell Silvy that I would be at the 
tailgate the next game weekend and would look forward to her joining the 
tailgate if she can make it, he said:

"Oh I will Dan, I will. Actually, no I won't. If I told her that she would be 
here for sure that weekend no matter what I said."

Based on the power of attention and emotional support that I had witnessed in 
just a few short hours on Labor Day weekend, I am certain that he was sincerely 
speaking the truth. 

We are pretty good friends. It just blows me away that we are messing around 
with this mind game. But, I'm having too much fun to jump off the merry-go-round 
now. I want to see where this leads. But I had better be careful.

So, that's the story about the case of the "super playmate being held hostage by 
the boyfriend." Basically, what I just described is true, real, and happening to 
me now. This all came about because I read your website and decided that the 
stories that I had always felt I should be ashamed of, despite liking them, were 
not to be taken that way at all. Instead, I should open my mind to the natural 
desires of real people, especially women who are so often portrayed by society 
as non-sexual beings without the interest to fantasize as intensely as men. When 
the truth is revealed about women, and the early age that God himself sets for 
this transformation to fully sexual and even extremely lusty human beings, well, 
it's convinced me to throw my inhibitions to the wind.

I feel like I'm a better person for it. I'm turning toward my wife and showering 
her with verbal expressions of love like I have never done in 25 years of 
marriage. Yes, this also brings forth a desire to think very nasty thoughts and 
to fantasize without limits. Sometimes I even TRY to avoid limits, but only as 
long as I feel pleasure in the resulting fantasies. I don't bother with them if 
they don't. The latter behavior comes as naturally as the former behavior. I'm 
no longer going to suppress either. Period.

You may be interested in knowing what are fantasies and what are not. When I 
tell you that what you just read is true, well, it is. The things I will tell 
you I WANT to do to those soccer teammates, those will be fantasies. If you're 
interested, I'll write about those in the near future.

Probably more than you wanted to know. Scream "TMI" if you wish.

Dan


Chapter 7 - Response to Kelly's Ethical Dilemmas
================================================

Note from Kelly:

I wrote up a series of situations that I actually have found myself in over the 
years as a result of publishing this web site.  This is what Dan sent me 
regarding them.  Do you agree with his analysis?

***************

#1 Dad and His 3 year-old Daughter
----------------------------------

Dear Kelly,

Before I offer you my feelings on Dilemma 1, which you might be surprised to 
find to be rather supportive, I thought it would be a good idea to lay down some 
general ideas that bound my thought process for all my comments on the dilemmas.

First, "if I were you" is an unobtainable perspective. I am not you, and if it 
were "me" AND I was as thoughtful as you by laying down in writing some personal 
principles to be guided by, well, they would be different personal principles, 
wouldn't they? After all, you don't want a sycophant, do you? For example, 
assume for the sake of argument that I was an interventionist Christian 
minister. In the physical world, I would be use to walking some pretty tough 
streets; ministering to some pretty "lost" people; and regularly being 
confronted with behaviors outside the cultural norm as the cost of doing 
business. These situations and these places are where Christ's message was 
ALWAYS the most powerful, even during Jesus' own ministry.  It would be no 
problem for such an interventionist minister to cruise your webpage. For him, it 
might even be BETTER than cruising the streets because so much of your webpage 
is probably fantasy, not real. But if a UK man was totally in your power of 
suggestion to the point that he was IN REALITY putting his cock up against her 
naked back, well that interventionist minister (if he/she was not corrupt that 
is) would surely advise you that if it had been HIM, he would not have provoked 
the father in the first place. The reason is obvious:  Because his ethical code 
was built on different moral foundations.

But I'm not an interventionist Christian minister! I AM a life member of a very 
large Christian church, and I will gladly admit that the singular impact of 
Jesus' ministry on the history of the world leaves me almost breathless with 
awe. But I ain't here to preach. This translates into I'm not going to confuse 
your ethical dilemma with a moral dilemma. Nor am I going to suggest that you 
HAVE a moral dilemma (well, maybe but only because you seem to, see the last 
paragraph). After all, you are exotically and erotically intoxicating because 
you make it clear in your webpage the firm notion that you are a sincere 
believer in a Christian church. My God! Isn’t this better than sex?  I would say 
I am a sincere believer, too. But does that mean I live by the Church’s teaching 
without question? No, I do not. For example, is it a sin that my wife and I have 
always practiced artificial birth control? I found it ironic that in church 
today, the gospel reading and the homily was devoted to the difference between 
the rules of an earthly religious institution, and those of God (Mathew Chapter 
V). So am I in the holier than thou position of living to someone else’s 
external moral code without exception? Nope. And thus for the sake of discussion 
(but not necessarily action, by the way) I WILL NOT hold you to any particular 
moral standard. After all, I'm reading your web page and lovin it:  Who am I to 
preach? Before I was married, I was as promiscuous as my conflicted 
inhibited/uninhibited personality would permit. When the head on the third leg 
took over, the uninhibited self did well in the seduction role (before I was in 
a monogamous relationship with my future wife, that is). Does that make me a 
slut before marriage? I guess so. It is even more ironic that when I was deep in 
thought about all of this last night I walked through the living room where my 
girls were watching an episode of “House” (they are addicts). The show must be 
based exclusively on sexual themes because, even thought I have never watched an 
entire episode, whenever I walk through the living room the sexual nature of the 
plot, and most sub plots, always seem to jump out at me through the dialog. This 
time what caught my attention? A quick sound bite from Dr. House:  “Yesterday’s 
slut is today’s empowered woman!”  Ok, Ms. Wells, I guess you are an empowered 
woman!!!

So, what's the point? Easy, an "Ethical Dilemma" assumes rules have been chosen 
by the individuals expected to live up to the ethics. At least to the extent 
that it is practical to do so. For example, in a republican democracy we not 
only delegate rule making (i.e., to elected officials), but then submit to 
majority rule. And when joining a profession, we might accept, or even feel 
forced to accept, the professional rules of conduct because we want to be one of 
the professionals (a specific point that I will find relevant in addressing your 
last dilemma). But we also have the opportunity to change the rules by 
participating in the profession's rule making processes.

In this case, the ethical rules are set by one person and one person only: You. 
I can't get into the body of Kelly (Freudian slip?) when commenting on the 
ethical dilemmas. It is indeed extraordinary that you even care to ask for 
comment. After all, aren't you the rule maker, judge and jury all rolled into 
one? Perhaps your erotic need to push your correspondents to come as close to 
reality as possible leaves you vulnerable to guilt. Well, you said as much in 
your Ethical Dilemma piece. I'll take you at your word; but that goes to the 
heart of a moral code, not an ethical code. More on that below.

I'm going to assume that you don't want my GUESS at YOUR opinion, you want MY 
opinion (at least I think that's what you said) about the case as it reflects 
against YOUR ethical rules (not mine). To offer that opinion, I'm going to look 
at your other statements about yourself. What do I think you should have done IF 
you were being consistent with your own ethical rules? The answer from me will 
be something different from your actions ONLY if you were clearly NOT being 
consistent with your ethical rules. 

In the case of the first Dilemma the outcome of my reasoning may surprise you:  
I think you did the right thing when you did it. Why? Because the facts of his 
behavior, in my opinion, were consistent with all of your guidelines (with one 
technical exception that I argue your reasoning resolves anyway) for a Daddy 
Daughter moment. In that case, you should have felt the need to close the window 
only when the session no longer served YOUR needs for erotic or intellectual 
stimulation. “To be fair” the daughter was, by your own admission, not being 
molested by what you saw or knew of at least. But you had lost interest in the 
continuation of the sequence of events, and the image transmission had even 
become unwelcome to you. So you terminated it because the chat had lost its 
purpose from your standpoint. The daughter’s well being and needs were not being 
adversely impacted by your encouragement in the chat cycle. Well, maybe in 
society’s opinion it was; by “Society’s” definition maybe she was already being 
molested! But as you define it in your various discussions on this subject in 
the “About Me” section, nope, no molestation. And, in many countries, the images 
might not even be considered child porn. Thus, in your ethical paradigm, only 
the needs of the Daddy and you were in play. Let's examine this first case a 
little closer to see why my opinion in this case follows that conclusion.

You are chatting with a father with a daughter. That immediately puts him in 
your special incest category as documented in your underage sex statement.  In 
addition, in that same document you put some rather remarkable allowances for 
activities between very young girls and the male cock.  Not only that, but you 
specifically allow very young girls to participate in oral sex (even though they 
don’t know they are “participating” in anything) even to the extent that it 
might relieve the sexual tension of the male partner (admittedly, that’s in the 
preteen section, but as you will see below, if the reasoning is right, it 
applies even more so to younger girls!). I drew the unmistakable conclusion that 
you anticipate and thus accept that the outcome of THAT could include him 
blowing a huge wad of his sperm in her mouth, face, hair, nose, eyes, etc etc. 
Yum. You justified this conclusion with the notion that physical contact with a 
cock was pretty much like physical contact with the man's finger, and, anyway, 
only he was truly aware that sexual activity was involved (defined as 
stimulation of someone's genitals resulting in sexual gratification). And what 
sexual gratification it would be!  The acceptable case was carefully limited to:  

1. Lack of touching of the young girl’s pussy or chest. And maybe butt too? (But 
   hell that goes on everywhere without sexual intent by either party, so I'm 
   kinda convinced that you left that one off on purpose).
2. The male is related or unrelated and any age (i.e., unrestricted). And...
3. The girl is 6 years old or older.  

The facts of the case are that you came to believe the man was responding to 
your highly persuasive chat suggestions with a real girl who was his daughter 
aged three.  So what? What you saw never seemed to even approach a technical 
violation of rule (1). Rule (2) is no rule at all. That leaves curious rule (3). 
Why six, Kelly?  If I understand the justification for rule (3) from your own 
written statement of ethics on the matter, then I believe you set an arbitrary 
standard for age. It seemed so obviously arbitrary to me when I first read it 
that I dismissed it as being simply a cop out to keep the flaming emails down a 
little bit.  However, when you realized that he was sending you real-time 
produced child porn (at least in the eyes of one democracy, ours!), you reacted, 
based on your PERSONAL preferences, by no longer participating. I can only 
speculate why, but the nature of your statements in your dilemma piece suggest 
that certain issues of self interest were involved, including a desire not to 
participate in the receipt of the images, and your lack of erotic interest in 
continuing to participate. But neither of those issues was ethical in nature, at 
least with respect to your rules.

In short, I think you were right to press him to go as far as you wanted him to 
go, even if it was real (cause it's more erotic that way) because any violations 
of your rules of ethics were technical (really only rule (3)) and subject to 
dispute anyway due to the possibility of arbitrary limits not consistent with 
the actual intent of the rule.  Therefore, WAY TO GO GIRL! Nobody persuades a 
chat partner to take a daddy daughter situation to within your cherished 
framework of incest better than you do.

What keeps this from being a total open shut case? Well, the HINT of a moral 
dilemma on your part. Here are the telling sections: “Still, it was shocking to 
say the least that anyone would do that to a girl that age…” and “Of course, I 
never believed for a moment that he would actually DO it when I made those 
suggestions!” Why not, Kelly? Does this mean you don’t REALLY want a daddy to 
act that way around a very young daughter? Masturbate in the open near her? Have 
his erect cock come in contact with a non-sexual part of her body? If it’s just 
the age difference, well, baloney!  A three year old is not any more able to 
discern she is in a sexual situation than a six year old. It’s just a finger 
against her back, isn’t it?  So, at the risk of angering you on the first try 
(please humor me if you feel anger, it is NOTHING personal), I guess I’m asking 
you to explain to me if you are consciously or unconsciously signaling a qualm 
about the moral foundations of your own ethical rules.

I am eager to hear how this discussion makes you feel.

Love,
Dan

P.S.   If you found this interesting and worth continuing (and I certainly hope 
       that you do), feel free to suggest to me the next ethical dilemma you 
       would like me to tackle. I can go in chronological order unless you 
       suggest otherwise. And I won’t continue until I get feedback from you. If 
       you don’t find it interesting, for God’s sake tell me why! I want you to 
       enjoy this. Then you might be motivated to allow me to enjoy what comes 
       later.

P.S.S. I thought you might also be interested in knowing the impact you’re 
       having on me. Last night at dinner, the kids left the table and my wife 
       was talking to me. All idle chatter of course. But I knew that by 
       listening I was giving her indirect emotional support. You know what I’m 
       talking about. Because if she (or most wives) feel you are NOT listening, 
       then they become disappointed, not because the information in the 
       conversation is that important, but because the unwary husband has failed 
       to give needed and valued emotional support. Well, as I was listening, I 
       was thinking ALMOST too much about you (i.e., almost missed a couple of 
       cues). Why might that interest you? Well, in a sense I am trying to give 
       YOU indirect emotional support by writing these pieces. It’s really not 
       that strange. After all, writing personal letters to other people was for 
       centuries exactly how you gave indirect emotional :)


*****************

#2 Dad and 11 year-old Daughter
-------------------------------

Dear Kelly,

The next topic is a man and his fantasy for his 11 year old daughter. Only, you 
have adequate proof over a long enough period of time to be confident that you 
were, at least some of the time, not seeing fantasy but reality. This is, of 
course, the first necessary (but not sufficient) condition for an ethical 
dilemma to arise. For as even the U.S. government admits (with supervision from 
the Supreme Court), you and I can fantasize about ANYTHING without it being a 
crime. The difference between you and the larger societal norm is that you 
encourage going to the limits. Of course, no one can complain about a fantasy 
never revealed, but many different types of societal institutions advocate 
limits for the sake of reinforcing cultural norms. It’s sort of like public 
education. The content is normed by the society doing the teaching. 

I once discovered this to my amazement in a context unrelated to fucking 11 year 
old girls. (Funny, in my day job that subject just never seems to come up!) I 
once had a graduate student from the “former” Soviet Union (Gorbychev and 
Perestroika was “over” by the time of this conversation). While I fiddled with 
my office door, I found myself stammering to be polite by trying to address him 
as a citizen of whatever country he was “from” now. And since I happen to 
believe the Soviet Union actually was an “evil empire” I didn’t want to tarnish 
him with THAT label.  He finally stopped my stammering and simply said “I view 
myself as a Soviet.” Not a former Soviet, but a Soviet. Hmmm, that’s when I 
realized that this guy did not feel “liberated” by the fall of the Soviet Union 
at all (however, make no mistake, the one’s subjugated in Eastern Europe sure 
did!). I realized, this guy received a public education (no other kind was 
permitted) and was normed into accepting and desiring his political system. 
Well, he was a damn good graduate student, so what did I care? And he was 
perfectly willing to be a “Yankee Doodle” while he lived and worked in America. 
Heck, he even knew and loved the Ford Taurus (not just his, ALL of them!). Great 
guy, really.

So what’s the point, Danny me boy?  Society wishes to teach us what fantasy’s we 
should WANT to have (well, the limits on them anyway), but not even the law 
forbids us from accepting Kelly’s motto:  Fantasies should have no limits. The 
corollary is, of course, you cannot have a fantasy too extreme.  Thus, there is 
no ethical dilemma until it starts to get real, so that’s the entry point. And 
from the description of the problem in Ethical Dilemmas, that point with 
reasonable probability had come.  

Since we have a POTENTIAL ethical dilemma, the question is, did you go over the 
line, cumulatively or at anytime during the rather long run up to the sudden 
disappearance of the father from your communication channels? Remembering back 
to my “General Thoughts,” in addressing that question, I am not going to use 
Dan’s ethical paradigm (might be a good idea, cause, who knows? I may or may not 
have rules as trustworthy as even naughty Kelly’ rules).  My conclusions 
must address the following:  either “you should not have done this when you did 
it;” or “you should have stopped all of this sooner;” or “carry on Kelly, you 
did nothing wrong.”

If we look at the ethical constraints driving the discussion over Ethical 
Dilemma 1, the three rules for underage sex, we get little or no help here. For 
all practical purposes, none of those rules were broken. But, as we progress 
through all of the ethical dilemma’s, we will take increasingly critical looks 
at the facts of each case to see if there are unwritten rules, analogous to 
“common law,” to help provide extra guidance. In considering dilemma 2, I make 
the first effort to examine, codify, and use these unwritten rules.  Where might 
I find them? Well, they might reveal themselves in your agreements about 
positions or principles concerning specific events offered to you by others 
(think of these as similar to a “contract”). Or they might consist of systematic 
behaviors revealed during the course of chats whether related to this case or 
not. The latter reveal “cultural norms” for the land of Kelly. In the following 
discussion, I will invoke and consider both types.

So, what other circumstances of this dilemma should we consider? Well there was 
the unauthorized use of the sexy 11-year-old fuck muffin’s lingerie for sperm 
target practice.  At first glance, you might ask “WTF? If I can cum in a six 
year old’s mouth, why would anyone give a damn about a cum stain on an 11-year-
old’s lingerie?” Ditto with the tooth brush and the mouth wash. After all, 
cumming directly in the mouth just eliminates the middle man; err, the middle 
brush or bottle, I mean. 

Well, Kelly might. 

(Kelly, please note that from here on out I’m going to switch between first and 
third person when speaking to you or about you for purely rhetorical reasons. 
Don’t take points off, please!)

If we read a juicy Farrow-Kelly chat about this “John-Alicia” story (please 
note:  I’m workin that in from memory, might have been another lingerie shoot 
out!), Farrow (God I hope that one is real!!!) tells Kelly that it is perfectly 
ok for John to want to use his daughter’s bra as a sperm-cell swimming pool, but 
really it is an invasion of her privacy to do it without asking. (Hmm, given his 
last brush with the law and the battle axe’s continuing feelings on the matter, 
just the suggestion of asking is practically stand up comedy!)  And, in all 
fairness to Farrow, there probably is a difference between leaving a greasy 
smudge in a first grader’s Cinderella panties and leaving that same present in 
the new thong the hyper-sensitive, hormone-riven teenage slut just talked her 
mom into buying for her with the neighbor boy in mind. Farrow’s suggestion, so 
clinically and objectively correct, while avoiding all hint of judgment (jeeze, 
she sounds like my mother!), is that the wife should buy him instead surrogate 
lingerie. Naturally, from the description of the wife’s feelings of betrayal and 
humiliation at the husband’s past history, the cold day in Hell will come first. 
So what’s a guy to do, especially with Kelly encouraging him in the way only she 
knows how to do? Well, cum in the daughter’s panties, of course! Just don’t 
miss; the sheets are much harder to change.  

Is there even a gray area here with respect to Kelly’s ethical paradigm? All I 
could find was that Kelly seems to agree with Farrow when she writes this 
prescription (i.e., the prohibition on violating the girl’s privacy).  But Kelly 
could have been just being polite for the sake of conversation and not wanting 
to look like she was challenging the highly trained and licensed sex counseling 
professional. And Kelly’s agreement sure didn’t look like a contract to me. 
Heck, I would have done the same thing (“yeah, sure, sure, Farrow” while 
pressing on with John in the other chat window).  And nowhere else have I found 
on Kelly’s webpage that it is written “thou shalt not leave seminal fluid in an 
11-year old’s lingerie.” So, Kelly, I figure it’s not really something that you 
disapprove of.  Looking at the chat sequence between John and Kelly, one sees 
the usual occurring, namely Kelly using all of her persuasive powers to cause 
that very thing to happen! “And John, don’t forget to send the pictures!!!”  I 
have no evidence that this is a violation of any rules in Kelly’s ethical 
paradigm, so I will dismiss this in summary judgment. No ethical dilemma here. 
John, fire away at the little girl’s underwear!

Now, let’s turn to bigger fish than some little girl’s cum rags. In looking at 
the John-Kelly chat record, I have come to see from time to time and on a rather 
persistent basis, apparently significant departures between what I read in your 
rather emphatic rules and advice testaments found in your “About Me” section and 
what I read you advocating in the Chat sessions. In some places, they are simply 
in complete and total contradiction. Why, I ask myself? Here are three 
possibilities:

1. Kelly, in the heat of the erotic moment, will compromise any and all of her 
   core principles. We’ll call this the “Hypocrite’s” Hypothesis.
2. Kelly, in asking for things that appear to violate her core principles that 
   apply to reality is simply role playing in fantasy space. We’ll call this the 
   “Role Player’s Cue” Hypothesis. 
3. Kelly, in asking for things that appear to violate her core principles that 
   apply to reality, is transferring the responsibility to the father/mother on 
   the other side of the chat to decide for themselves whether to do a 
   disapproved act or not. We’ll call this the “Free Will” Hypothesis.

Let’s look at a couple of examples to see if we can spot a likely correct 
hypothesis for the specific event in question. If we see that the “Hypocrite’s” 
Hypothesis is the only truly plausible one, then I'll have to say that you acted 
outside of your ethics. Let’s begin with the following chat sequence from 
chat_john080412.txt:

   Kelly (10:46 PM):  little cuties, I think sometimes about you and them
 
   John (10:46 PM):  oh really
 
   John (10:46 PM):  what do you think about
 
   Kelly (10:46 PM):  picking one out for you
 
   John (10:46 PM):  mmmm
 
   John (10:46 PM):  and
 
   Kelly (10:46 PM):  keeping her after school
 
   Kelly (10:47 PM):  so you could fuck her in my classroom
 
   John (10:47 PM):  young and hot
 
   John (10:47 PM):  and me fucking her right on your desk
 
   John (10:47 PM):  her parent with NO idea
 
   Kelly (10:48 PM):  while I sit on the end and masturbate for you
 
   John (10:48 PM):  that would be so fucking hot
 
   Kelly (10:49 PM):  there is one that is so cute
 
   Kelly (10:49 PM):  you would love her
 
   John (10:49 PM):  what's she look like
 
   Kelly (10:49 PM):  reminds me of Alicia which is why I think she is so hot
 
   Kelly (10:49 PM):  naughty little grin
 
   John (10:50 PM):  how old is she
 
   Kelly (10:50 PM):  just turned 11
 
Key facts:  

1. John did not initiate the idea of choosing a girl in Kelly’s class for him, 
   Kelly did. 
2. Kelly explains her motivation is so that John can fuck the chosen girl.
3. The girl is young enough and the circumstances involving power over the child 
   clear enough that in the event it would likely be out of Kelly's own safe 
   harbor for preteen sex. 

A key differentiating factor from other "more cautious" tales is that Kelly does 
not ask a rhetorical question “so you WOULD fuck her in my classroom?” That's a 
turn of the phrase that Kelly often uses to protect herself with plausible 
deniability; i.e., invoking “Free Will” as justification for her advocacy. But 
in this case, she does not need it. Because John has no access whatsoever to the 
little girl in question and Kelly has taken no steps to make it possible for him 
to meet her, and she has MANY reasons not to ever reveal enough information for 
John to even know who she is, let alone take her up on the proposition, we can 
conclude that this is a fantasy and thus protected. There can be no ethical 
dilemma arising from this chat sequence. Are Kelly’s comments, then, simply the 
“cues” that are necessary for the role playing chat sequence to go forward? As 
Yoda might say: “Practiced chat partners role playing are these two.”  One, 
meaning ME, may look with squinty, questioning eyes, but the evidence is not 
there to accuse Kelly of ethical departures.

But what about the following chat? Kelly once again initiates the idea of sex 
with a preteen in away that at least pushes the envelope of her proscriptions 
for acceptable preteen sex. And the discussion COULD cause a leave of fantasy 
for reality. 

   Kelly (11:44 PM):  actually, the real reason it turned me on was imagining it 
   was you and Alicia
 
   John (11:45 PM):  would you like to see me fondle Alicia while she sleeps
 
   Kelly (11:45 PM):  omg yes
 
   Kelly (11:45 PM):  seeing your dick growing as a sign of your lust for her
 
Kelly escalates John’s lust, confirming her desire, not just his. Are we 
dangerously close to the “Hypocrite’s Hypothesis?” But now she grows wary, 
retreating to a question, rather than an admonition. The retreat keeps the “Fee 
Will” Hypothesis a viable option.

   John (11:46 PM):  knowing I want my dick in her
 
   Kelly (11:46 PM):  you want that bad, don't you?
 
   John (11:46 PM):  fuck yes I do
 
   Kelly (11:47 PM):  would you like to fuck her right now?
 
   John (11:48 PM):  I would love to have a cam hooked up and having riding my 
   cock on cam so you could watch
 
   Kelly (11:48 PM):  are her pajamas easy to take off tonight?
 
   John (11:49 PM):  yes
 
   John (11:49 PM):  loose elastic waist
 
   Kelly (11:49 PM):  pull them down to her knees this time
 
Is the above sequence Kelly at her best? Escaping a “Hypocrite’s” fate in the 
nick of time all in the face of serious lust? It would seem so. Careful naughty 
girl!!

And, then, the grand finale:

   John (12:13 AM):  would you get turned on watching me fuck that little one 
   you are sending me pics of
 
   Kelly (12:13 AM):  mmm, yes
 
   John (12:13 AM):  not just saying that to please me are you 
 
   Kelly (12:13 AM):  I don’t do that
 
   John (12:14 AM):  I know... just teasing you
 
   Kelly (12:14 AM):  I would love to just watch
 
   John (12:14 AM):  see me between her tiny thighs... my dick slowly 
   disappearing into her little baby cunt
 
   John (12:43 AM):  and I want to share my daughter with you... I really do
 
   Kelly (12:44 AM):  I know, that is what makes it even hotter for me, that you 
   really do
 
Pure “Free Will” territory here. Kelly is back in her safe harbor, encouraging 
by asking questions or acknowledging her understanding of what HE wants to do; 
but not directing the show. As the chat closes, veiled language is used. 
 
   Kelly (12:44 AM):  so now tonight I want you to show me
 
   John (12:44 AM):  mmm ok

Just what does Kelly mean? It seems John probably does not know for sure. Kelly, 
in an earlier part of the sequence, tells him to use his imagination, as that 
would be more fruitful than her telling him everything.  

So, Kelly, what to make of all of this? To summarize my conclusions:

1. No obvious or certain departures from your “core reality principles” (CRP’s, 
   yeah, I know, shitty acronym :) ) were observed by you during the course of 
   the relationship.  You saw no evil. 
 
2. No obvious advocacy on your part for departures from your CRP’s. While you 
   came awful close, you are an experienced pro at getting absolutely as close 
   as possible to your erotic reality show without crossing the line. You spoke 
   no evil.

3. You did not chat with a previously known pedophile. Despite the best and most 
   vigorous efforts of the FBI, a state or federal prosecutor, and expensive 
   legions of shrinks, this guy was cleared of being one. You don’t have to 
   assume on your own authority that he was/is one. You heard no evil.

WAY TO GO GIRL! You played it loose and close, but within your own rules. You 
may not earn that gold star in discussions of every dilemma, but we’ll take ‘em 
one at a time. For me, the closer you get the reality show to town the higher 
the sperm flies at the end of the hand job.

Luv,
Dan

P.S. Who knows what happened to him? If the wife found his written record, then 
     at least a frying pan upside the head, I’m sure.


*****************

#3 Dad and 3 year-old Son
-------------------------

Dear Kelly,

In referring to the "real" you (and yes, I have taken careful note of that 
admonition throughout your web page), I think you raise an interesting issue 
that is at the center of my thinking about Dilemma 3.  In fact, you may notice 
that from here on out I'm going to be building on the themes enumerated in the 
Dilemma 2 feature. The real "dilemma" with you, frankly, is that the "distance" 
between no limits for fantasies and real limits for realities is so 
fantastically large (infinitely large in fact, therefore incomprehensibly large) 
that it gives some dangerous wiggle room. Combine that with your admitted erotic 
thrill to stalk reality if it looms as an opportunity, and now you know why your 
loyal fans would blow their sperm over half a phone book just to correspond with 
you. But if you profess to have limits in real life, AND you pledge (at least to 
yourself) that the "real" me will govern your behavior when it all becomes real; 
then I need to ask who was in control when the shit hit the fan? Who was in 
control right BEFORE the shit hit the fan? Yes, it matters. 

To use a tired cliché, what did you know and when did you know it? Because 
intelligent people (and you are definitely one of those, that's why you blow 
people away with this web site) can make predictions about the future, and 
depending on the circumstances, can even make extremely accurate predictions, 
then you can't get away with trivial excuses every time:  "I didn't think he 
would REALLY do it" etc. etc. You can't, that is, if you truly wish to live by 
your ethical code. In other words, you might have to operate a bit more 
conservative when all of the information points to your participation, through 
extreme encouragement of a highly susceptible-to-suggestion individual, in REAL 
events that in hindsight you do not condone (but go ahead if you condone them, 
or if your pulling our leg about not condoning them).  Are you being fully 
honest with us and yourself? Why would you bother asking people to comment on 
your ethical dilemmas if you weren't willing to examine this question? Since I 
don't know you except for what you've written, meaning I don't KNOW the REAL you 
(through, for example, personal acquaintance), then I'm going to take you at 
face value and assume that you do care about this question.

The law knows all about this issue of encouraging susceptible people or crowds. 
Aren't the one's that incite the riot generally held most culpable? Wasn't Heath 
Ledger's Joker (OMG, what a MOVIE!!) the really bad guy, not all of his dumb ass 
assistants? They pulled most of the triggers but they were all brainwashed by 
him, right? But, hey, I don't want you to think that I've suddenly gotten 
judgmental. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Like I said in the 
beginning, you don't want a sycophant, do you? This question, in my mind, is at 
the heart of Dilemma 3.

But, I don't want to get ahead of myself. Expect Dilemma 3 tonight sometime. The 
wife has carpool duty for soccer practice, and that gives me some quality time 
to be a pervert. Or, at least, draft commentary while THINKING perverted things.

Love, 
Dan

*****************

[Prologue:  I’ve tried to inject some levity in the monologue that follows. 
These commentaries have been getting kind of heavy, and I didn’t want them to 
sink clear out of sight due to their own weight.  But, I have a bad habit of 
laughing at my own satire, so if you read some of it and instead of lol (or 
thinking about it) you get that “this is sick” kind of look on your face, well, 
hold that emotion and accept my sincere apology. Because when you get to the end 
of this commentary, you might be able to recycle that “this is sick” emotion!]

Dear Kelly,

The next topic is the man and what-ever-walks-within-arms-reach-and-can’t-get-
away-quick-enough case! In this case, it would be his three-year old son. 

First, let’s establish something about myself. While I’m not homophobic, daddy-
son stories are not my thing.  I remember being in college and my roommate and I 
would cruise our local neighborhood and dare each other to belly up to the bar 
in the local gay establishment. And way back then at the dawn of time, that was 
one roaring gay bar. Lesbian bar, too. (But don’t try to pick ‘em up, unless 
rejection is your preference.)  So we would strike up a friendly chatter with 
the natives, while fending off the passes, and next thing you know we found 
ourselves one very late night sipping a post-bar-closed-down beer in the private 
residence of this fair member of the same sex.  He was giving us insight into 
the existential pleasures of being a gay man that has sexual relations with 
other gay men. All I can remember from this coming of age episode was the young 
man assuring me something to the effect of “you just can’t believe how exciting 
it is to have a massive load of cum in your face!”  I decided to take his word 
for it in lieu of taking the lab course.  Ever since then, I understand the 
human reality of homosexuality, but I don’t wish to fashion it into my 
fantasies. (Unless, of course, we’re talking girl-on-girl, then Whoo! Whoo! Let 
the party begin!)

What’s this anecdote teach us about Dilemma 3? Nothing, actually, because the 
father’s decision to engage in oral sex with his three-year old son on his end 
of an open cam channel with you did not appear to me to be a sincere expression 
of homosexual interest in his son. It DID appear to be an extremely lustful, 
uncontrolled response to a Kelly demand. How do we know, at least about the 
lustful uncontrolled responses? Well, no less an authority than Kelly herself 
tells us so in fantasies/A Naughty Dad and His Kids.txt

One thing I have learned about a horny guy – once he gets to jerking off, 
there's not much he won't do for me!   Mike was no exception and soon he had 
covered the glass over a wedding picture of him and his wife with a full load of 
cum.
 
Then, the 3-year old son makes a mistake. No, it’s not that he toddled into the 
same room as his father. After all, we can assume the little boy has covered 
this territory in his random walks before without finding himself dancing in the 
sperm shower. (Hey, it was a RAIN shower when I first saw the movie!!!) No, his 
mistake was walking into the line of sight of the cam camera while Kelly was 
thinking of giving the guy the send off for being boring. Now, Kelly gets an 
idea:

   Kelly: "Ever masturbate with your son in the room?"
   Mike: "No, never."
   Kelly: "Well, strip for me then."
   Mike: "LOL - OK"
 
And., of course, the rest is history:  Following no nonsense instructions from 
Kelly, in which she could see cause and effect before her very eyes, the young 
son gets to smoke the magic cigar and claim the jelly toast (minus the toast, of 
course). 

But do we have a violation of the ethical code of Kelly land? Is Kelly willing 
to abandon her own ethical code with respect to real events as soon as it 
becomes possible to do so? We begin by reading the entire “fantasy” which we 
discover by her own admission is not a fantasy, but merely an embellishment, 
and, indeed, she does not deny that the “real” events she says she saw on the 
cam were, well, actually seen by her in real life. But, since I'm searching for 
a high standard of guilt, this alone is not enough. To see why, we need only 
examine what she actually insisted the daddy do and compare to the letter of her 
code. With the son, the letter of the code is not all together clearly violated 
because her underage sex code pretty much allows for:

1. Receiving oral sex from children (just a rite of passage, so Kelly says); and

2. Returning the favor with a large dose of sperm delivered anywhere convenient 
   on the child’s body. To be fair, I’ve merely assumed this to be ok after 
   Kelly wrote that “It also provides the men with the opportunity to satisfy 
   their needs.”  Well, we can guess what THAT means.

Anyway, it does not look like a slam dunk case, YET. We do have Kelly worrying 
about the lack of righteousness of a daddy using his 3-year old son as a cum 
rag, and acknowledging that she was pushing him to do it. Is this true remorse? 
Or just crocodile tears?  We don’t know, but if we want to pursue this to a 
“jury trial,” we need a “smoking gun” for evidence. Sorry, that may have been a 
poor choice of words. How about “incontrovertible evidence that Kelly lost 
control of herself in her lust and crossed her own ethical line.”

Well, you can find THAT no problem by examining the basic repeat of the cum-on-
the-son game with the guy’s 4-year old daughter.  I won’t bore you with the 
details, but let the record show that Kelly abandons all safe harbors and 
plausible deniability by just telling him what to do and when to do it (that 
would be NOW!).  The result is at least a fully documented pussy molestation. 
Licking cum was Kelly’s next friendly suggestion, but fucking was on the table 
earlier. But now the father, relieved of a sack full of sperm and the crazy lust 
that let it fly, shunts Kelly’s suggestions to ground. HE regains control over 
the situation, DESPITE Kelly’s preference. She wanted “moar.”

How does all of this stack up against Kelly’s rather detailed ideals for non-
fantasy line crossing?

“Well, let’s see Ms. Kelly. I’m your court ordered legal counsel in this first 
district court of Kelly land. Looks like you’ve been pushing the ethical limits 
again, huh sweetie? I’ll tell you what, with this cam thing, and the chat 
record, and your own written confession (why do my clients always do that?!), 
looks to me like we need to do some deep belly scraping toward the prosecutor. 
Fortunately for you, he and I go way back. In fact, all the way back to law 
school, when he and I were working on our community service points by helping 
out at the public defender’s office trying to get those oppressed towel heads 
out of Gitmo and back into polite society. While your case is not quite as 
wrenching as Achmed the terrorist, I think I can work a deal.”

Ok, the above “scenario” is a bit embellished. But so was “A Naughty Dad and His 
Kids.txt.” Nevertheless, according to Kelly, it wasn’t all made up. It seems to 
not even have been mostly made up:

I almost couldn't believe they were real!  I must have cum half a dozen times at 
least as I thought about how nasty he had been. 

But would Kelly take the “objective” public defender’s advice and plead guilty 
to an ethical violation? Think again:

I am a firm believer that ANYTHING is OK when it comes to fantasies and if a guy 
wanted to fantasize about doing things with a little girl then that was fine 
with me.  Mike, on the other hand, had crossed the line between fantasy and 
reality and I struggled with the morality of what was happening.  Once again I 
wondered if I was in some way responsible for this?  In all fairness, how could 
I be blamed?  I was just sitting in my room all alone and he was far away.  It 
wasn't like I was forcing him to do anything.  He was completely responsible for 
his actions so was it bad for me to watch?  I didn't think so.  Besides, if 
anything I was now more curious than ever as to how far he would really go!

In other words, she just won’t own up to the seemingly obvious (at least in the 
opinion of the non-lust-crazed non participant) that this would NOT have 
happened if Kelly had not “caused” it to happen through her advocacy across the 
chat. Instead, she rationalizes away her culpability. Why??? What motivation 
does she have to avoid facing the difference between her WORDS, and her ACTIONS? 
Somehow, in her mind, she does not cross the line, only Mike does. Can Kelly 
EVER cross the line? Well, her argument is technical and based on the “Free 
Will” hypothesis discussed in the Dilemma 2 discussion. This “he did it, but not 
because of me” defense is common for Kelly, and often justified by Kelly’s 
careful management of her chat dialog. But at times, like in this scenario, she 
abandons all pretense of “Free Will” and instead DEMANDS action, and demands it 
now. How can she now absolve herself? 

Well she can’t, of course. But she rationalizes it away anyway. After all, she 
is addicted to the reality show, and it does not matter how young the boy or 
girl is except, maybe, for them to be younger if possible! Kelly ignores here 
“ideals” as soon as the opportunity to receive gratification from the reality 
show reveals itself. And because it IS real, AND she has power over the adult on 
the other side (themselves co-opted through their own lust) her gratification is 
magnified many times. Anyone that has studied, or experienced, behaviors subject 
to addiction knows just where the little matter of “ideals” stands in all of 
this. The ideals are the first to be ignored, run over like kindling under tank 
treads.  And Kelly describes all the classic symptoms of addiction. Reckless 
behavior and escalation of needs, for example:

One of the criticisms about sex and porn is that like drugs, people get bored at 
a certain level and continually push the bar higher and higher.  I don't 
personally know much about the porn or drug aspects as I don't get into it them, 
but I do agree when it comes to sex.  I find myself always looking for something 
new and exciting…

And then there’s the lack of regard for others, 

No, this was more a case of me getting off based on what her father would be 
doing, not her.  At least, what I HOPED he would be doing to her.  My mind was 
racing with possibilities, each more perverted and naughty than the last.
 
And a willingness to say whatever she must to get satisfaction:

Given that what he had done so far was bad enough, if I continued to chat with 
him, what would be the next step?  As bad as it may sound, the truth of the 
matter was I wanted to know!  Deep down it made me horny as hell when he did 
those things with Justin and in some perverted way I was curious as to how far 
he would go with him.
 
Addiction to the reality of molesting the little boy AND girl. “Moar,” not less 
is always the answer to Kelly’s needs.  Ideals? Kelly knows what happened to 
them:

   “What I wanted to see at that moment went completely against all my morals 
   and upbringing.  What I WANTED was to watch his son suck his cock.”
 
While it may be ok to WANT it, but to ask for it?

   Kelly: "Rub your cock on Justin's face and lips."
 
What more to say? There is nothing more. Ideals hacked to get what she wants. 
But what judgment does this behavior deserve? That kept me up one night. Should 
I censure her? 

“Kelly, you bad, bad woman.”

Hmmm, that didn’t seem to come out right. After all, who am I to call Kelly bad? 
And what about the rest of her readers? (Even the flamers, after all, are 
reading this shit, too. Who do you all think you’re kidding?) Just reading 
Kelly’s webpage would get many of our better halves demanding mandatory 
counseling.  That’s when I realized, in Kelly land, what would a “jury of her 
peers” look like? Targets of an FBI investigation, no doubt.  That’s when I 
surprised myself and realized that I was missing something way too fundamental, 
something that up to this point, I had simply overlooked in my co-opted world 
view.  Maybe I did not realize that I was still in the shadow of the morals that 
I had grown up with. Why was Kelly or I paying attention to those?

Then it occurred to me, that my feeling of censure was a sign of corruption. 
Sexual inhibition. Sexual oppression. Exactly what our larger society teaches. 
Some struggle psychologically with their repressed feelings for sexual freedom. 
How many marriages flounder on the divide between what the husband wants and 
what the wife will do? And who’s to blame the wife for being inhibited? Who did 
that to HER?  Did she secretly want to explore her sexual identity as soon as 
puberty would allow, only to deny it or risk the awful public brand of “slut?” 
When gender normed for feelings and willingness to act on those feelings, aren’t 
both girls AND boys sluts? You bet they are. I’ve been there, done that.

But what about the appearance of using the little boy and girl as sex toys? So 
what of it?  It’s one thing to kidnap an 11-year old girl from a home and family 
filled with love. And then, after she had already reached an age in which she 
was aware of the prevailing culture of inhibition, and having already learned to 
accept it herself for better or for worse, just rape her? Yes, that is wrong, 
and the resulting psychological damage is real. 

But what about using a child that can’t and doesn’t understand “sexual activity” 
and using her as a sex toy for the pleasure of those that provide all that 
brings her physical and mental security?  And then, when she is old enough to 
understand the decision to “fuck or not to fuck?” let her make the decision to 
continue? Will she be harmed? Society will say she is brainwashed because, in 
all likelihood, she will resist switching to society’s norms (and all the 
shrinks know this, just read their case histories). Need further proof? Look at 
what the graduate student said when his ability to “belong” to the Soviet Union 
as a citizen had disappeared completely and irrevocably. He was still, in his 
mind, a Soviet. What would a former fuck toy do when she had the cognitive 
ability to make sexual decisions herself? We know that biological factors 
inseparable from human nature are certain to make this occur over a known range 
of ages. That allows the users of the fuck toy to adjust to the new reality.  In 
other words, stop the use, and instead begin to engage the potential partner.

Well then, I surprised myself with my conclusion. Kelly, why shouldn’t you use 
his children as fuck toys to satisfy your sexual needs and for that purpose 
alone? Why not indeed?  

Kelly, if you have the moral courage to change your written statements on the 
matter, please go ahead. If not, we don’t care about them anyway. Be what and 
who you want to be.  If that means persuading a dad or mom to use their young 
children for your own exclusive sexual pleasure without the slightest concern or 
consideration for the fuck toy or toys involved, what are you waiting for? You 
know you want it.

Love,
Dan

P.S. Ahmm, obviously, you didn’t wait; all signs suggest you’re already a pro!!

P.S.S. The above conclusion would not go over well at the average dinner table. 
I advise extreme caution before using this topic to stimulate a boring cocktail 
party. :)

*****************

#4 Cheating Fiancé and School Teacher
-------------------------------------

Sent:    Sunday, September 6, 2009 9:40:01 PM
Subject: Dilemma 4, short but fun

Whea! This one was a nice break from the supreme court briefs covering the first 
three dilemmas. I hope you like it.

Dear Kelly,
 
And now for Dilemma 4, the guy who is having so much fun with Kelly that he 
forgets which drawer he keeps his underwear in. You’d think he would have 
noticed the lack of room for his balls in those thongs. Anyway, compared to what 
we’ve discussed so far, this definitely goes in the misdemeanor file.

What’s the dilemma? Something about should Kelly have filled in the fiancé with 
her lingerie’s dance card while she was away? Jeez, it’s like the nutcracker or 
something. And who can blame Kelly for helping the fiancé understand that, no, 
that rather strong smell of Clorox wafting up from her “clean” panties is not a 
slip up with the wash. I mean, this is just girl-girl talk, right? Throw in a 
clip or two from the webcam to eliminate all doubt, and the fiancé is just 
getting a cheap education into the kind of leftover weirdo’s she might have 
waiting for her if she doesn’t get married soon. Please, just don’t let it be 
this guy.

Seriously, why the guilt? He’s the one that slipped up and let her find out 
about his Kelly antics. Why wouldn’t Kelly complete the circle with a little 
delicious gossip? Especially about the women’s own fiancé! Looks to me like 
Kelly did a community service. Now he’s free to go out and find someone else 
adequately covered with tattoos and piercings to meet his expectations.

And her? Well, now she’s got one more good reason to stay out of those “Downtown 
Disney” bars. Too antiseptic, if you ask me. A titty bar in downtown Orlando? 
NOW were talking!

As far as sending the pictures and webcam clips to the guys principal, jeez 
Kelly, can’t you find some lazy dog to kick? That’s just plain mean. Save that 
sort of stuff for people that deserve it, like that fucked up headmaster of 
yours. But THAT dilemma will have to wait its
turn.

Love and kisses always,
Dan

*****************

# 5 Cheating Husband
# 6 Naughty Cross-Dressing Husband
# 7 Horny Husband
# 8 Naughty Dad

Be warned, this is long, and it's not done. But its done through the first 
episode. Should I continue? Does this bore you? Let me know. Also, the link to 
the MSNBC piece I cite is:

Appeared at  http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/32895838/ns/today-
today_relationships/?GT1=43001
on 23 Sep 2009.

[Prologue:  Departing from past practice, I’m rolling the next four dilemmas (5-
8) into one commentary. Why? Well, even though each has it’s own unique 
features, there is always at least one common thread that ties them together, at 
least in Kelly’s mind. How do I know? Consider the following questions or 
comments:
 
“Was it right to encourage him to start an affair?”
 
“This started out as yet another guy unhappy with his marriage, especially his 
wife’s lack of sexual interest.”
 
“It’s funny how here was a married guy who was actually GETTING laid by his wife 
and STILL, he wasn’t satisfied.”
 
“In retrospect, I think that what he REALLY wanted was to meet me and that 
somehow he thought that telling me about his daughter and doing naughty things 
regarding her might somehow turn me on enough to want to meet him. “
 
What’s the common thread? Either outright implication of an adulterous 
relationship, or the warning signs there in. Each question or comment comes from 
one of the four different dilemmas, as Kelly describes them. Now, we could get 
wrapped around the details of each, but why? They’re all kinda boring in 
themselves, so why bother? What’s NOT “boring” about them? Well that’s in the 
eye of the beholder of course. And who might that be? It goes without saying 
that for most of the fucked-up perverts going to Kelly’s website, my commentary 
would get a quick scan followed by at least a subliminal “when does the 5 year 
old get fucked in the ass?” question. Finding that subplot missing, they are 
already two websites down the line. So, I have no illusions about who might read 
the crap that follows:  me and Kelly. And I’m probably kidding myself about 
Kelly. 
 
So why should I bother? Well, the topic of adultery transcends all else in the 
enigma that is Kelly. Attacking this question is rather intimidating and 
captivating at the same time. Reading Kelly’s FAQ, among other things, leaves 
one believing that Kelly is practically a white-dress bride eager to get on with 
the soul mate thing. But then the caveats begin. And don’t forget the 
rationalizing!  Does Kelly have two agendas? No, probably three!!! So what else 
can your friendly commentator do but waste an evening, or two, questioning this 
question? In fact, my early morning weight lifting has two parts:  The sweating 
against gravity with the muscles, and the sweating against Kelly’s logic with 
the gray matter.
 
Beyond the Kelly enigma issue, there is the importance of the topic itself. 
After all, for all the shock the flaming “wives” express once they “find out” 
what the hub has been up to with Kelly (i.e., dreaming of teens and preteens, 
usually closely related ones at that) does anyone believe that most of this is 
anything more than fantasy? Kelly suggests we take 99.9% of it as fantasy, but 
considering her well documented addiction to the “real thing,” I don’t know for 
sure what to think about that 99.9% number. But what I can be virtually certain 
of is that in this country divorce is the main family wrecking institution, not 
child abuse or incest. When it comes to “harm” to children, divorce can be 
compared to auto accident fatality statistics, while child sexual abuse to 
airline fatality statistics. In other words, child psychological trauma due to 
divorce is endemic, while psychological trauma due to sexual child abuse is by 
comparison negligible.  In fact, I might hazard a judgment:  The underage child 
“sex” promoted on Kelly’s website can be ignored in the context of society’s 
concerns. But her role in events leading to adultery is a potentially serious 
concern. Why? Because the encouragement to commit adultery is much more likely 
to be acted upon. And when found out, the vaporization of the family unit is 
often the collateral damage.
 
Now, I know I promised not to be judgmental, but since I might be the only one 
reading this, I originally planned to craft a “story” that would end the 
commentary with a stark reflection on Kelly’s participation in adulterous 
affairs. But, my own real life schedule prevented me from writing so creatively 
so quickly, and how fortunate for me that it was so! Because, when I finished 
reading Kelly’s September 13 update, I knew she had taken real life well beyond 
my little story. I was happy for her. Kelly had faced the face of the betrayed 
wife. And that wife told Kelly just how she felt about Kelly’s role in the 
affair. Whether she was right or wrong, or maybe only half right, it does not 
matter. Kelly heard, felt, and is now on her own to consider what all that 
meant. I am a pauper compared to that.
 
But is this all there is to talk about in these four dilemmas? Just a trip to 
the woodshed for Kelly? Why DO I read Kelly’s stuff? Why DO I pay any mind to 
her ideals and her stern convictions, offered so often as challenges? Consider 
this from a recent chat I had with her:
 
“Kelly: Outside of silly chats where I provoke people, have you ever read where 
I promoted incest when the daughter is older and nothing sexual had ever 
happened before?”
 
The answer is no. But what about a young lady that says she does not condone 
adultery, and then makes it clear that participating in the act of adultery with 
a married man produces intense feelings of self worth; which translates into the 
most intense of sexual pleasures. So much so that she becomes compelled to beg 
for it? (And I’ve seen begging for sex, so I know it happens.) Is it any wonder 
that these behaviors of her’s show signs of an addiction? 
 
Given her own actions to deal with her dilemma, I no longer felt the need to 
address the “golden rule” with Kelly. But, as has been the case in each previous 
commentary I made, I knew I still needed to turn the microscope on everyone else 
just to see if we really are all that different. Take me, for instance. I can 
claim nearly 25 years of marriage without any slip ups. Oh really? Is that 
strictly true, I asked myself? What IS a “slip up” when it comes to marital 
infidelity? Are Kelly and her latest married lover alone out on that limb? Or 
are virtually all of us somewhere on that same limb? For sure, some may be 
closer to the tree than others, but aren’t we all birds of the same feather? And 
if we are, what does it say about the “natural” tendency of men and women to 
have feelings about our own self worth and then to pursue external validation of 
our self worth while constrained by these promises we make in relationships?
 
While reflecting on these inescapable tendencies, I decided for my own sake to 
explore what at least one of Kelly’s correspondents called being “emotionally 
unfaithful.” Could that include me? Is it natural to be unfaithful in at least 
tiny little ways? Does it matter? If not, why should it matter then if it occurs 
in a big way (i.e., full blown adulterous sex, pun intended…)? If it does 
matter, then who can throw the first rock at Kelly? The logical dilemma filled 
me with hours of thought; and so I started almost clinically cataloging all of 
my potentially “emotionally unfaithful” activities. Even this past Sunday 
morning. In church. Read on, if you give a damn.]


Chapter 8 - Sex With A Slut Mom While Her Daughter Watches
==========================================================

I've got some twenty something slut that I've been casually fucking for awhile. 
She's got a young daughter. Maybe five years old.

We are in her bedroom, I'm going down on her (the slut that is). Pretty typical 
fuck session. The slut loves for me to eat her. Will do anything to get a long 
pussy eating. I like it, but make sure I use her weakness to get what I want.

Then, her daughter shows up at the edge of the bed, dressed in a cotton night 
gown. Typical for the age. I stop in slurp and cock an eye in her direction. 
"Hmm, what's the slut going to do about this?" I ask.

The slut and the five year old whisper something between them and then the 
five year old hops in bed next to the slut. I see the girl's legs aimed in my 
general direction. The sluts legs are spread and my face is still between them. 
Cock is rock hard and I'm not inclined to be interrupted. Neither is the slut...

She asks me if I mind fucking her with her daughter in bed. I shrug my shoulders 
in reply and get back to eating her out. The daughter snuggles against slut mom. 
Eventually, I move up and push my stiff tool into the sluts cunt. She shrugs her 
head and shoulders back and forth. Full speed ahead. Her legs are straight up 
and I'm pounding the cunt. The bed shakes. The daughter shakes next to the slut. 
I don't care. The slut doesn't care. The daughter seems ok.

So I'm pounding away, and the slut is grunting and making obscene noises. Dirty 
nasty talk. Driving me over the edge. Temporary insanity land...  I know she 
likes the pop shot on her, the face if I can manage it (can't always get there). 
Just one of her nasty preferences.

Besides it being a nasty preference, she likes me to go down on her after I 
finish, so blowing my wad on her face makes that realistic from my perspective. 
As an aside, one time I made the mistake of getting so fucking insane over 
watching the cum run down her belly and fill her belly button, that I reached up 
while going down on her and started rubbing the jizz into her skin. She told me 
"don't do that." She preferred for it to congeal on her. She always leaves it 
where I shot it until she takes a shower in the morning. Her thing...

So, now you know that it’s business as usual for me to yank the manhood out 
and hustle up to her side so I can douse her in baby juice. She has bushy curly 
black hair that is totally cool with a rope or two of jizz stuck in it. This is 
time is no exception...

So off I go, except now the daughter is between me and the sluts face. I 
lean over the girl and start to pump jizz like a fire hose. My head is in the 
air, groaning. I look down and see the slut as usual with her head lifted toward 
my cock. Her hands are stroking the head of the cock, spreading the hole, 
helping my orgasm and improving her view of the nasty jizz blasting randomly in 
her face and hair. She love it, I love it.

When I finally start to get my rational senses back, I look down. That 
gorgeous five year old face is looking straight up at my cock, still being 
pumped slowly by hand and the head stroked by slut/mom. The dribble from my cock 
is, of course, falling on the daughter's face. I can't help it and I don't care. 
A couple of lines of jizz from the hot blasts that fell down on the little girl 
are on her chin and the top of her cotton nighty. She's just watching.

Now, it occurs to me that slut being a slut, I know I'm not the only one 
having fun with her from time to time. In fact, I know some of the other lucky 
joes. And it occurs to me that little daughter has seen all this before. Makes 
me feel nonchalant. What the fuck do I care? I don't. I don't give a damn if my 
cum plastered slut/mom or her daughter. So I move back down to give slut/mom 
what she wants.

I go back to her juicy wet pussy and attack her clit. As usual, she writhes 
with pleasure. You just can't do this enough for the slut. Her daughter cum 
covering doesn't concern her, only her fucking clit.

I look up and see that the daughter's legs are parted just slightly. Not 
obscene, but more off hand, like it's more comfortable for her to lay with her 
legs parted just so. That's when I see she has no panties. Just a gorgeous 
smooth little pussy. Really just a peak cause she's not trying to flash.

That's when I know that there are more nights to come with slut/mom and 
daughter. Does daughter want her pussy licked? 

The slut/mom was awesome. Fucking her every way I wanted as long as she got her 
pussy eaten. (And yes, she had a daughter that liked to watch, mostly because 
slut/mom was a single mom and poor daughter spent a lot of time in daycare and 
babysitter and was just trying for quality time! I hate to say it, but that shit 
I'm not making up!). Going to the end of the road that her house was on. The 
university president's house was on that road. Getting out on the grass and 
fucking. I laugh now that I'm on the faculty at another university. Shit, that 
would have been a fun one to explain to the dean of students...

Slut/mom lived in a small house. One big bedroom, living room, etc. Daughter 
would wake up, stand up, and start wailing until slut/mom put her in bed with 
us. Then fucking would continue. I was just a kid and my dick was doing the 
talking. I doubt I would do that now.

You want me to tell you what I'm thinking as I blow a nasty puddle of cum on her 
little face? How I want her to suck the last bit of jizz off the end of my cock 
while I hold her by her hair and pump my cock across her jizz covered cheeks?

Next time...


Chapter 9 - Fucking the Slut Mom and Cumming on Her Daughter
============================================================

I haven't told anyone about slut/mom in all these years. Except for my 
boss/professor. I talked to him about whether slut/mom was a fit mother. Too 
judgmental back then. Now, I'd let sluts be sluts...

She struggled with temptation. And usually gave in eventually. I saw lots of 
crazy stuff with her daughter. All I cared about was nasty, no-limits sex. But I 
was 21 years old.  That night that I saw her daughters pussy under her nightie, 
that wasn't the last time. She did what was expected. Not really doing anything 
to encourage. Not stopping anything.

Her daughter was curious but then why not? She watched her mother's legs in the 
air. Her mother’s mouth around cock. Smelled her mother covered in sperm. Got 
used to it.  I did all the eating. She laid next to mom. Watched. The second 
time in bed, I managed to pull her into the action in a small way.

I got my arms around slut/mom's legs as I worked her cunt with my mouth. I  
hooked daughter's leg at the same time. Daughter spread her legs to accommodate 
her leg being trussed up. Her pussy was more exposed. I had the smell and taste 
of slut/mom. Temporary insanity was near at hand.

I hadn't taster her daughter yet. Not that night. Slut/mom was wacked out with 
lust. I worked slut/mom and kept my arm around daughter's and slut/mom's leg. 
Nice view. I decided what I would do when I got my chance to blow my load on 
slut/mom.

After getting up and ramming it in I fucked slut/mom hard. Before slut/mom 
I was fucking college coed's. Always very tight pussies. Taught to hold back. 
Slut/mom had already had a kid and was looser. I could go awhile. It was 
refreshing.

But, all good things must come to an end. And since she always begged me to pull 
it out, out it went. And around the daughter I crawled with pecker in hand. 
when I got adjacent to slut/mom's face, I started jerking the wood. She assume 
the position to try and catch it over daughter's face. But I aimed low and blew 
it onto daughter. Slut tried to accommodate my aim, thinking it was an accident. 
It didn't faze daughter. She took a full blast. Back then, it felt like a fire 
hose. Greasy slime running down the tube. I didn't give a damn. Ecstasy does 
that to you. Slut/mom did her usual fingers on the head of my cock thing trying 
to help it along and watch the spluge at the same time. I just jerked everything 
I had onto daughter's face hair neck nightie. Wherever. The I rotated back on my 
legs and rested a minute.

It was unbelievable. I can't cum like that now. Youth. 

It was then that I looked down and like a fucking robot or an out of body  
experience "watched" myself lower my cock to daughter's mouth and lightly pushed 
it in. She opened in response and there it rested. In her mouth with spluge 
still dribbling out. At first I didn't even look at slut/mom to see what she 
thought.  Obviously it wasn’t the first dick in her mouth. Slut/mom got around 
and daughter got to watch — a lot I think.

So I stroked a bit longer and then started toward my next destination 
between slut/mom's legs.

Kelly: when you fucked her daughter, did she help or just watch?

Like I said, at first I didn't see what slut/mom's reaction was. I was 
zeroed in on what I was doing, like it was natural or something. Slut/mom spread 
her legs when she felt me moving back for the post-fuck cunt munch. But that was 
when I looked up and saw she was still up on an elbow looking at daughter.

Kelly: oh?

Slut/mom was missing her nasty spluge bath. Normally she wore what ever I 
blew on her all night. Didn't want me touching it (fine with me) and didn't want 
to end the nasty feeling by cleaning herself. So we just kept up our sex act 
with whatever she had. But she had little to nothing cause I had avoided 
shooting it on her. favoring her daughter. I was pretty blatant about it. I 
didn't really think about it a the time. Just one of those "what did I do that 
for?" sort of moments. But slut/mom was about to take matters into her own 
hands, so to speak.

I started licking and eating her pussy. Took one deep thrust of my tongue 
into her hole tasting the strong "tang" of her vaginal secretions and starting 
to feel my cock throb toward a recovery. With both of my eyes glued to slut/mom 
looking at daughter. Then I watched slut/mom slide a hand under daughter’s neck 
and drop her own face into the sperm mess that was her daughter's face. That's 
when I decided that I was staring at a slut and a 5 year old fuck toy.  That was 
the beginning of an escalation I kept going over the time that slut/mom and I 
were sharing a nasty experience. 

That’s the back story for the saga to come. When I do my next tribute (I picked 
out a suitable fuck toy), everyone will see my spluge like it was back then. 

Here's some late breaking news. As I write this my oldest daughter Chery just 
walked in and said she has a date tomorrow night. Guy’s coming out to pick her 
up. She is nearly 16. Imagine if she knew what her dad was writing!


Chapter 10 - Fucking the Slut Mom While Her Daughter Helps
==========================================================

So after blowing my load the last time, slut mom liked me to go back down on 
her. That night was no exception so down I went. I already had witnessed slut 
mom smearing my jiz onto her face from daughter so when I wrapped my arms around 
slut mom's legs, I hooked daughter's leg again, pulling her daughter's legs 
apart. What I was looking for was there again, her daughter's bare pussy.

It was so cute. Her smooth pussy lips slightly parted by my spreading her legs. 
The clit hood peaking out. And me with my face in her grown moms pussy. The 
smell intoxicating me. The taste turning me freaky.

So I when slut mom finished using her daughter as a sperm sponge and laid back 
on her back to enjoy the pussy eating, instinct once more took over. And yes, it 
was unbearably HOT!

I just ran my hand up her daughter's leg until I came to the hem of her nightie, 
and then just kept going. My finger tips glided over the daughter’s 5 year-old 
pussy. I used two fingers to slide around the labia. Then I spread the cunt 
lips. And gently touched the hood and slid my finger down to the hole, where I 
just rested the finger tip. The daughter moved her butt a bit in response. But 
otherwise just laid next to moaning mom. She was very passive. No sign of 
reaction. Just accepting that my fingers where on her tiny cunt, and as long as 
she was beside slut mom, she seemed ok.

For the rest of the time that I sucked on slut mom's pussy, I fingered her 5 yo 
daughter's pussy. Slowly moving a single index finger up and down. Pushing the 
lips apart gently and then letting them fall back together. Needless to say, I 
was hard again quick. When you're 21, you can recover quick, especially under 
unbearable provocation.

The mom was doing her usual head back and forth, eyes like slits, into her own 
orgasmic space. I couldn't be sure at that time if she was ok with what I was 
doing. So, after 20 minutes of snatch chewing and a tired tongue ready for a 
break, I had a woody and I got up and shoved it into mom.  Her daughter laid 
there with her nightie pushed up above her pussy while the bed just shook. I had 
a second hard on and was able to pound away and still take my time blowing my 
load. 

With slut mom's legs above my head, I finally reached the second orgasm and shot 
my load into slut mom's pussy. It was less of a flow compared to the first blast 
on her daughter's face, but I wasn't going down on her again and we just drifted 
off to sleep, the three of us.

When I woke up slut mom was in the shower. She was several years older than me. 
A full time nurse. I was a college student. Might have been 7 AM, which back 
then was like the crack of dawn. Daughter had either gone or been put back in 
her bed, I wouldn't know since I was sawing logs. Then slut mom got dressed and 
grabbed a bowl of cereal before collecting daughter for the day sitter and 
heading to work. She told me to let myself out when I felt like it.

I guess I was wondering about all of this, now that the insanity had worn off. I 
mentioned something to slut mom while watching her eat breakfast that might have 
been something like "hey, I had a great time, I felt really close to you" or 
some such jazz. I felt awkward, I mean, usually the chicks are looking for 
something meaningful, at least in my experience. Her response forever labeled 
her "slut" in my book.

She said "Don't fall in love with me!"

"I got back on the pill so that we could fuck whenever because I like the way 
you eat my pussy and you have a big cock." [Look, that's not my opinion, that 
was hers!]  

"If you want to fuck, just call me."

And that was how we left it. Which 21 yo guy is going to leave it at that? Not 
me. Third time was just around the corner -  the next weekend. Had all week to 
figure out how to call a chick to ask her to fuck you without asking her to fuck 
me. I still hadn't taken her literally yet.

So as usual we had some kind of party going on, so I called and invited her. She 
said she would get a baby sitter.  After the party ran its usual course, I drove 
her back to her house. She wouldn't let me leave, of course. We both went in to 
relieve the baby sitter. Cute coed. They chatted in the hallway. Looked like 
they were talking about the "catch" of the night. Probably should have told slut 
mom to invite the babysitter. Too fucking inhibited back then to seize the 
opportunity. 

So, as soon as the door finally hit the sitter on the way out, we were on the 
floor with me getting through the panties to get the pussy. Daughter was in the 
bedroom asleep.

So, after getting her panties off and getting her warmed up they way she liked 
it, we started doing stuff she wanted to do, the way she does it with others 
(like I said, I knew from the beginning that she got around, a lot!).

We were initially on the floor of the living room, and given that her daughter 
was in the bedroom, I assumed (still not really believing the past two times 
were somehow "real") that we were in the living room to fuck in "private."

So, we went at her suggestion to her "fuck chair" (I didn't know that's what it 
was until I was led to it!). We fucked with her on top and somehow, she got down 
on my cock wrong and said it had hurt her. Frankly, she was looser than any 
chick I had ever fucked (a good thing back then for me), so I didn't know what 
had happened, but I was just a guy with wooden pole sticking up, so what would I 
know?

That put a damper on things for awhile. We got a bit irritable, but like I said, 
I hadn't done anything intentional. We just sort of repaired to her bed room to 
lay down for awhile. The party had been a drink fest, so we were both a bit 
fucked up probably anyway.

Eventually, I got her relaxed and her legs apart. She was more than encouraging 
to go back to where I had started, eating her pussy. I love it, so it was fine 
with me. And I was relieved that Mr. Hyde had gone away and we were back on 
track to have a totally depraved evening.

And then, guess who shows up at the edge of the bed? The 5 y.o. fuck toy!

My senses were heightened about this little ritual. Two's the charm, three times 
and we've got a pattern.

I practically stopped slurping on mom cunt and watched much more carefully what 
slut mom did next.

She kind of rolled lightly onto an elbow and reached over, putting her hand on 
the little girl's back, encouraging her to climb up. As daughter did, that's 
when I noticed what I hadn't noticed before. Slut mom eased her daughters Disney 
panties off of her as she came over the side.

That's why a beautiful little pussy was staring at me under pushed up nightie. 
"Respectable" mom kept panties on her little girl, but, for some reason, decided 
that they best be removed before joining us "innocently" in mom's bed. I really 
didn't know what to think of it at the time. 

It took me awhile to figure it out. What would you think, knowing that daughter 
did not attempt in the slightest to initiate anything sexual with me during 
these early episodes. She was very passive. I was puzzled 

Eventually, I just decided it was to keep me coming around. She was pretty 
depraved, but she didn't need to have sex with her kid that I could tell. Being 
such a slut, thought, I think she had a lot of turnover in fuckmates. In an 
earlier chat I mentioned she was trying to turn over a new leaf. I had not 
experienced her prior life, but this one seemed above the pale for most girls 
already. If this was relatively prim and proper, then jeez, it must have been 
unbelievable before.

She was the one that said "don't fall in love with me." So she had already sort 
of rejected the "normal" way you keep a man coming around (give it when he wants 
but make him say "I love you!"). 

Well it didn't seem to bother her. But I wasn't sure what was going on. I did 
get enough of a hint that I didn't worry much about trying some more with the 
fuck toy. Maybe it was one of the few times when my inhibited self paid off. I 
didn't scare slut mom because I was too inhibited to just go nuts and assume too 
much. I wanted a slower ramp.

So fuck toy climbs next to slut mom with no panties, but still with nightie. 
Basically, like the last two times, just now I knew that slut mom had made some 
of the arrangements. 

I immediately start taking liberties with  fuck toy's pussy. Playing with a bit 
more energetic. Fuck toy moves in response. I wouldn't call it "sexual" 
stimulation, just stimulation. 

She shifts about. Accepting my touch passively. I push her legs up a bit with my 
free hand. Spread her butt cheeks and look at her pink asshole. I reach back and 
start to put my finger in my mouth to lubricate, but get nasty instead and stick 
it all the way into slut mom's cunt.

I make sure it is soaked with slut mom. Then I rub my finger down fuck toy's leg 
toward her crotch. I watch the glistening of slut mom's vaginal secretions as it 
traces a path on fuck toy's inner thigh. Seeing slut mom take her daughter's 
panties off really let me explore my nasty side.  I pull my finger back and back 
into slut mom it goes. I look up and slut mom is in her usual daze. 

Slut mom knows how to frig herself and on previous occasions has taken matters 
into her own hands (literally). On these occasions, I noticed that she likes a 
lubricated finger to do the frigging.

Sticking a finger in slut mom's cunt, pulling it out and positioning said finger 
in front of slut mom's mouth usually produces a saliva bath from her own tongue. 
So I pull my cunt juice covered finger out and stretch my arm up to slut mom's 
face.

No exception this time either.  What's different is that slut mom’s cunt juice 
and her spit are now being rubbed onto her daughter's pussy. All around the 
labia and then around the hood and against the hole. I guess slut mom expected 
the finger to go against her cunt, and when it didn't I noticed she tilted her 
head forward and she glanced down quickly. A very fast twist of the lips and 
then her head was back on the pillow.

So then what? What would a man who's munching pussy do when a new pussy becomes 
available a few inches away? At least the thought went through my head. "EAT 5 
Y.O. PUSSY!"

But I'm more inhibited than many guys. So that thought went through my head, but 
I still wasn't ready to stop munching slut mom's pussy and repair to her 
daughter's pussy, even though it might appear that a flashing green light was 
on. Everything so far was kinda of "incidental" to the main sex act going on 
between slut mom and me. I just didn't think it was prudent to be that overt.

I may be sckitzo. I mean, isn't the typical script "the man starts munching the 
5 y.o. pussy and she writhes with pleasure have multiple orgasms. 

So far, fuck toy is totally passive. Not stopping anything, but not reacting in 
a sexual way. And mom really hasn't done anything out of character for our 
fucking. I could almost talk myself into believing that slut mom just doesn't 
want the need to take care of her daughter to scare her current fuckmate off. 
Might have happened in the past, but I don't know since no conversation on this 
topic has occurred.

Maybe this is why in the light of day, when I had gone home and was around 
"normal" roommates and friends that I started to get judgmental. Asking for 
"hypothetical" advice about the suitability of a mother.

Those hypothetical conversations would go nowhere. Pike some perverts interest 
and then I would have to back out looking stupid. Fortunately, my other head did 
the thinking when it was really important. To this day, I think that was what 
she assumed would happen. Kept me coming around until finally quite sometime 
later, I got back into the "normal" groove.

Anyway, instead of sucking on fuck toy's pussy, I got up and rammed a granite 
rod into slut mom's pussy. When I was overheated, I pulled out and thought I was 
going to make the head, but as soon as I was out and in my hand, I knew I 
wouldn't make it.

So I straddled with the right knee between slut mom's legs near her crotch and 
my left knee on the opposite side of her daughter. Old faithful blew and I just 
let it go where it wanted to (insane orgasms do that to guys). Greasy globs 
landed in daughters nightie, on her left leg and on slut moms right hip and 
torso.

I kept stroking and it kept croaking. I reached down and deliberately grabbed 
the bottom edge of daughter's nightie and wiped the head of my cock clean of 
pussy slime and left over semen. Then slipped my hand up daughter's nightie and 
I wiped my "pumping" hand off on fuck toys belly. 

This time I was deliberate, not instinctive. When I guy blows a load, he changes 
from a totally insane lust driven animal to, very suddenly, disgusted with what 
he sees and feels. It leads to a powerful emotion to degrade your fuckmate. It's 
hard to explain, but most guys, especially when young, get carried away with 
this emotional swing. Some chicks get into it. Slut mom was one of them for 
sure.

Since I already knew that slut mom would want to where my semen all night, 
letting in congeal and then dry before hitting the shower in the morning, I 
didn't have much more to work with her. I guess that's why I wanted the semen 
and pussy slime on my inner palm to be wiped off on daughter's belly. I wanted 
her to feel nasty and dirty. I wanted her to be my fuck toy. Nothing seemed to 
be stopping me. 

It was that incremental thought process that kept me coming back for more of 
slut mom - and her daughter.

At that point, with the alcohol from the party, the earlier blow up over 
"hurting" slut mom's pussy, and the feeling of regret and revulsion over using 
slut mom and her daughter as I had that night, I was done. I collapsed on the 
opposite side of slut mom from her daughter and the congealing  mess on both of 
them and fell asleep (yeah, yeah, typically man!).

But that wasn't the end of it. Nope, I kept coming around. And overtime, I got 
to see more and more of what slut mom was passively offering. And as a result, I 
started getting integrated into their life, bit by bit. Not moving in, but 
helping out slut mom. Sometimes this meant fixing something or taking care of 
something. But mostly it meant hanging out around her house from time to time 
when it was convenient. 

Will tell more about how I got strung along later...

**************

Hey Kelly,

Attached is what I saw when I dumped my load on slut mom's daughter the second 
time she climbed into bed with us while we fucked. I shouldn't have done it, but 
I my cock was too hard and I was insane from slut mom's pussy. Her juice was 
covering my face and I just decided to roll the die and see what happens. I 
didn't think I would be in trouble, but I was still a bit surprised to see slut 
mom reclaim her lost sperm bath by smearing her face in the facial slime 
covering her daughter. That told me I hadn't begun to reach the limits of slut 
mom.

What happened next? I took advantage of the situation, of course. And my 
heightened senses on the third time the daughter climed in bed with us gave me a 
mind blowing realization about what slut mom was doing. Daughter was clearly my 
fuck toy. Why would only slowly reveal itself.

Next time we chat I'll fill you in on the details.

Tell me what you think of this tribute! If you don't like it, well, be honest 
and tell me why. If you like it, tell me how it makes you feel. Send me a pic if 
you feel like it. Receiving a gift from you will only help my motivation and 
surely wouldn't hurt my productivity, either.

xxxx
Dan


Chapter 11 - My First Tribute to Kari, My Daughter's 14 Year-Old Friend
=======================================================================

Hey Kelly,

I spent most of the weekend with my daughter Amanda and her team. Attached is a 
cute shot of my youngest daughter Amanda (on right) and her 13 year-old friend 
Kari on Saturday. The day was sunny, warm and beautiful.  What am I thinking 
when I took this image? A fantasy I will include with the "after" image. It 
involves Kari's mom giving me a no-hands blow job. And she's (willingly) in a 
compromised position to ensure it stays no hands. Beyond mom's face I can see 
Kari in the dimly lit bedroom. She is masturbating with her legs open on a love 
seat. One foot is on the seat and her knee is bent up. The other leg is 
stretched onto the floor. Her hand works constantly on her clit in her hairless 
pussy. Mom is trying to get me off with a combination of throating and sucking 
my cock while talking as nasty as she can, both about herself and her daughter. 
She's motivated by the "rules" of our game that I will describe in the full 
fantasy.

Dan


Chapter 12 - My Second Tribute to Kari, My Daughter's 14 Year-Old Friend
========================================================================

SCENE 1
=======

Kari’s cute, 13-14, small boobs still. Always gives me the "yes sir" reply from 
a good polite upbringing. But, the lear showed me there's a 13 yo sexual fire 
burning...

I use to masturbate about her more in the past. The "yes sir" is not erotic but 
she has me fantasizing, and so it's getting nasty.

When I get the phone call, I already noticed that Kari was wearing those short 
sheer pants. Look like long panties. Tight, sheer or almost so. Meant for hot 
butts. A LOT of chicks on the edge of preteen-teen wear them. I was at the beach 
a couple of years ago and in the evening a 13-14 yo walked by wearing one with 
bikini panties underneath. Mom was walking with her. Talk about a slut 
exhibition. 

That's what Kari's mom has Kari teed up like but more conservative. But in the 
room the masturbation thing starts. But Kari tells me before that "mom picks out 
this stuff for me to wear. I'm kinda shy about it and embarrassed sometimes..."

Mom wants her 13 yo daughter to look like a slut for her. Makes her feel young. 
Probably watches the public reactions of the guys. Makes her feel slutty. Mom is 
cute but not thin. Big round milky white boobs. Almost always likes to show 
cleavage. But not the whore dress up thing, she saves that for Kari.

I get to their room after the phone call inviting me. The mom told me over the 
phone "Kari told me that she told you some personal things and that you 
encouraged her to do what she and me makes us feel good. Would you like to join 
us and talk some more?"

What could I say to that?

So I make it down to their room. Mom let's me in. Kari is undressed to a short 
top and the boy pants with thong underneath (sheer enough to see). Usual early 
teen flat tummy and "inny" belly button. My pole begins to rise. This is fuckin 
porn. Mom is in shorts with usual scoop neck top and cleavage. Bra is more push 
up than usual, otherwise, it's her typical "take a look" look.

Mom repeats her thanks for being kind and listening to Kari's personal thoughts 
without being discouraging. I tell her that "not at all, I think it is wonderful 
the relationship that she has with you. Maybe the most healthy I've heard of."

Mom blushes.

So mom tells me that she believes that the whole range of human emotion is for 
parents to address with their children. I like the way this is going...

I restrict myself to encouraging sounds, avoiding saying much. Blowing this 
opportunity by being to eager and coming off as a jerk is not gonna happen. I'm 
too seasoned for that mistake.

She asks if sexually-oriented talk with girls bothers me. I assure her that I 
think its only natural. And Kari and I have already talked about some private 
things, so please feel free to say or do anything she (mom) feels comfortable 
with.

So mom turns to Kari and tells her that she looks so slutty tonight. Kari rolls 
her eyes and says "MOM, be cool!"

Mom ignores her daughter's embarrassed reply and moves over next to her. "Baby, 
you know I love you and I need you to help me tonight." Kari's eyes dart my 
direction and then stares straight ahead with a typical teenager "what do I do, 
I can't believe this is happening" look. She purses her mouth and says, "Yeah I 
know mom, but can we talk some fantasies to make my mind go there?"

Mom's reply comes low and husky. She knows she's on the right track. While what 
she says next is a question, it's only a device to let her release out loud the 
nasty feeling she has inside.

"Baby, can we get fucking get dirty tonight? Nasty? Mr. Dan wants to hear what 
bad girls we can be."

Kari's eyes dart once more my direction, surprised that my presence is overtly 
mentioned. She cracks an embarrassed smile but purses her lips to stop it. Kari 
narrows her shoulder in a typical little girl shrug, like "why am I here?" But 
she isn't going anywhere.

"K, mom. YOU start, ok?"

Mom had every intention of starting, to make sure it went as nasty as she felt 
inside.

Mom says, looking right at Kari: "Baby, I remember when you were barely 11 and I 
first came into your room and touched you. do you remember?"

Kari just grunts "uh huh" while her eyes look sideways with a "what's next" 
look. 

Mom's hand then reaches to Kari's knee and starts up the thigh. "Like this baby, 
remember?"

*****************

Kelly,

Mom was about to tell Kari about her smooth preteen pussy. But Karli, my wife, 
just walked in. I'll have to finish This later.

Meanwhile you can frig knowing that my wife is putting clothes away while I chat
with you about Karli and her barely covered pussy and tits while her horny mom 
is working her way up her daughter’s thigh. I'm doing that for you while she's 
here. Cool?

Love and gnite,
Dan


*****************

SCENE 1 (cont.)
===============

As Kari's mom's hand moved up her 13 year-old daughter's thigh to begin their 
masturbation ritual, Kari's thigh's began to part in anticipation. The fingers 
on mom's right hand curled inward, with the tips lightly grazing Kari's inner 
thigh. Mom's face was upturned, lips slightly parted as she mouthed obscene 
comments toward Kari's ear. Kari's eyes became slits as she anticipated mom's 
next touch. 

The edge of mom's index finger came to a rest in the crotch of her nearly 
preteen daughter, separated from the little pussy by only the flimsy fabric of 
the girl's very sheer cotton short shorts. Mom began lightly rubbing the edge of 
her finger up and down the groove formed by her daughter's pussy lips. I could 
see Kari visibly relax and her eyes nearly shut to allow the fantasy to mingle 
with the sensation of her mother teasing her pussy. Kari's mom picked up the 
nasty talk with the contact with the girl's gentiles through the pants. 

"Baby, remember when I first touched your little cunt? It was sooo smooth. You 
were still just a little girl, no hair on the cunt at all. God it was cute." 

Kari breathed a soft reply. "Yes mom, I remember." 

Mom continued. "Baby, you became my little girl slut so fast. I just touched 
your cunt and you wanted more. Now, baby, your my favorite nasty little slut. 
Baby? I want to feel your cunt juices on my fingers. Baby, I've just got to get 
into your pants. Be a dirty little slut and help me get them off." 

Kari said nothing, but with a motion that looked well practiced, she lifted her 
butt lightly off the hotel bed and slipped the fingers of both hands under the 
hem of the pants and slipped them lightly around her hips and down her legs, 
taking her thong with them. Her short pants and her thong stopped at the end of 
her reach near her knees. Then Kari's arms went back to her side and she waited 
for mom to continue. 

I noticed that if Kari had begun growing pubic hair, it was nowhere to be seen. 
Her pussy was as smooth and hairless as any preteen cunt. My cock was rock hard 
in my shorts, but I left it there, with some difficulty, for now. 

Mom wasted no time in moving her fingers into the folds of her daughter's small 
pussy. She lightly rubbed the little girl's clit and hood, running the tip of 
her middle finger toward the girl's vaginal opening, but stopping short and 
moving back up and down in a measured motion. She continued the nasty talk. 

"Baby, do you like my finger in your dirty little pussy? Hmmm, I want to smell 
your girl juice on my fingers. Would you like that too? Baby tell me you want my 
finger in your cunt. Tell me to stick it in." 

Kari didn't say anything in reply. Instead, she suddenly turned her head to face 
mom's face and twisted her head so that her parted mouth and lips settled on 
mom's mouth. Mom immediately slipped her free left hand behind Kari's neck and 
returned the kiss. 

I was surprised by how quickly it happened, and how intense it was. I could see 
both of their jaws working back and forth. From the looks of both the girl's and 
the woman's cheeks that fluttered back and forth the unseen tongues were 
together in their mouths, . It was a deep sloppy mother-daughter lesbian kiss. I 
was beside myself with lust as I watched saliva from the two-girl kiss seep out 
around both of their lips. They started smacking and sucking each others tongues 
in an almost violent display before returning to a lip locked spit swap. 

Watching the drool running down mom's chin drew my eyes further down until I saw 
that mom's finger was inside her daughter's vagina more than half way to the 
second knuckle. I assumed that Kari's cherry must be history with that deep of a 
penetration. It occurred to me that mom probably was the one to have broken the 
hymen. That thought was too much for me to bear and my cock had to come out for 
some stroke relief. I leaned back in my chair and pulled the pole from its 
resting place in my shorts and began a light stoke. I was in no hurry; I didn't 
want to blow this lucky load too early. Who knows where I might be invited to 
launch it? 

The wet kiss finally broke with saliva glistening on each girl's chin. Kari 
began to fall backward onto the bed and mom lay down beside her. Mom slowly 
pulled the finger out of Kari and made of show of watching the finger on the end 
of her hand come toward both of their faces. As mom's finger came closer to 
mom's face, I could see the light sheen of pussy juice gleaming in the soft 
light. Before mom finished the movement to her own face, she turned toward Kari 
and rapidly moved the finger to just below Kari's nose. 

"Here you dirty fucking slut, smell yourself." 

Then mom wiped the finger along the girl's upper lip before moving it to her own 
mouth, where she sucked it clean with a loud popping sound. 

"Hmmm. Tastes like the cunt of a cheap whore. You nasty piece of shit! You taste 
like sloppy thirds are pooling in your cunt!" 

That finally startled Kari into saying something. "Momma, please, you know I 
haven't been fucked by a boy yet!" 

I had no idea of the truth of that statement, and mom just smiled an evil little 
smile and replied. 

"I don't know what a whore like you does when I'm not around! Why don't you 
bring any boys home, baby? I want to fuck some boys and you don't bring them 
home, you stupid cunt!" 

Mom croaked this last in a lusty voice that told me she was still role playing. 
But was she really? Did mom want Kari to bring home young boys for mom's use? 
Seemed plausible, but stroking  my dick and watching and listening to this made 
anything erotic seem plausible. 

I could see Kari starting to tense, like something deep within her was welling 
up to the emotional surface.  Mom noticed too, and put her finger back to work, 
frigging her little daughter faster than before. Kari's legs started to 
straighten and then I noticed a slight shiver start to set into them. Mom 
immediately removed her finger and bent over the girls pussy, clawing at her 
daughter's knees to spread them. All I could see was mom's dirty blond hair on 
the back of her head as her face disappeared between Kari's thighs. Mom's head 
started an almost imperceptible bob. I imagined that mom was licking the girl's 
pussy, but I couldn't tell for sure from where I sat. 

I got up with cock in hand and moved to the side to see what she was doing.  
From my new closer vantage point, partly bent over to peer down into the depths 
of the unfolding obscene act but with my hard-on securely in my hand getting a 
maintenance stroke, I could just make out mom's tongue pointing toward the 
daughter's cunt lips. 

Just then, Kari's knees suddenly bent and she drew her legs up a bit as she put 
her hand on mom's head and started breathing very hard. Her head also started 
flipping back and forth stopping when the side of her face hit the bed and then 
flipping the other way. Pleasure of which I could only imagine was obviously 
coursing through the 13 year old. Kari's hand on mom's head began shoving hard 
so that mom's face was pushed deeper into the girl's cunt and then Kari's 
erupted with a curse laden rant. 

"Oh god momma, lick my little girl's cunt. I'm such a dirty slut! Please don't 
stop! Lick my dirty cunt, PLEASE MOMMA! PLEASE!" 

And then her arched back began to relax and she went silent again. Kari's hand 
fell from her mothers head and I could once again hear the obscene sound of 
mom's tongue licking something largely unseen between Kari's legs. 

As I watched hunched over and slowly fapping rock-hard man meat, mom's mouth 
slowly came to a halt and she began to lift her head up from her daughter's 
crotch. 

"Baby, that was soo good. You taste just as yummy as the first time I went down 
on you. Did you get off?" 

Kari replied slowly and almost inaudibly. "Yesss momma, I did. It was sooo cool. 
Thank you for tasting my cunt at the end, it really made me cum hard." 

Mom, looking satisfied, said "that's why I did it. You think I like the taste of 
raw pussy? Hah! Wait till I get paybacks." 

And then mom slowly began to turn her head my direction.  I watched without 
moving as her face swung around and I could see it was covered with enough 
saliva and whatever had been secreted by her daughter's pussy to positively 
shine in the uneven light. How nasty could this show get, I wondered? 

"So, Mr. Dan, looks like your taking care of yourself just fine, eh?" 

I was caught a bit off guard. Before Kari's mom had started masturbating her 
daughter, the conversation directed my way had been so, well, polite. Just like 
on the soccer field. But now it was like I was suddenly in the inner sanctum. 
And in a sense I was. I started to stammer a reply but she continued speaking, 
making it clear the rhetorical nature of her question. 

"Yep, doing just fine. But haven't blown the wad yet, huh?" 

She turned to Kari and continued. "See baby, there are some advantages to an 
older more experienced man, they can hold up before wasting the cum." 

She then turned back toward me. "Ok, Mr. Dan, let me take over. I want you to 
use that fine dick of yours and whatever's waiting in your balls to show my 
daughter and I what dirty sluts like us are good for." 

This was definitely NOT the usual way a Saturday evening on the soccer trail 
usually ended. Correction, EVER had ended. Until now. I released my cock, 
straightened up to my not inconsiderable height and took stock of the situation 
with one hand on my hip. What was to come next needed a little planning. While 
Kari's mom clearly had at least an outline of a plan, I could tell by her last 
statement that a bit of submission was involved and that meant I needed to take 
more than a little initiative in the grand finale. 

"So, momma" I said, "the question is am I going to blow a load on a cheap whore 
and her pimped daughter, or are you just a an easy slut with a walking, talking 
fuck toy in a soccer uniform?" 

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Kari watching and resting, but she 
continued to say nothing. Mom was obviously doing the talking for both of them. 

"Now your talking Mr. Dan." Kari's mom said by reply. "Do you meet a dumb, full 
of cum MILF slut with a live fuck toy often?" 

That's when I knew how to play my role. My man pole was still rigid. Not going 
to let me down tonight! We eyed each other, mom and me, and then she made the 
first move. 


SCENE 2
=======

Kari, a 14 year old teen girl who has just cum with the masturbation assistance 
of her mother, lies on her back and watches from the hotel bed as her mom moves 
quickly off the bed and down on her knees and scoots directly toward me. 

Or more accurately, toward my firm cock suspended straight out from the base of 
my crotch. My balls hang down in a fully extended scrotum. Aroused nearly beyond 
the point of sanity, I watch with my head down as she scoots over on her knees. 
Then she reaches out and slides her right hand over the shaft of my cock, looks 
up and says: 

"Hey honey, if you ain't gonna wank that thing, mind if I do?" 

Frankly, I'm not sure I've ever heard her use the word "ain't." We've always 
exchanged pleasantries about events of the day without ever straying from 
anything "safe for work." Now she's holding my cock and beginning a light stroke 
and sounding like trailer trash just released from jail.  I guess now I'm 
talking to the "stranger" in Kari's mom. But I'm too burdened with the feeling 
that comes from a hard cock with more stimulation in progress to give a damn 
about Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde. 

"Mmmm" I murmur as I raise my head slightly and close my eyes to slits. I'm 
standing there and she's on her knees stroking me with her clothes still on. 
That amounts to a light tank top with scoop neck and a black bra pushing up two 
perfectly round globes of C-cup tits. She's always been proud of them and even 
when she plays the part of Lady's Auxiliary Club role model (which has been 
every time that I've known her, until now!), she's always shared her cleavage 
with the rest of us. "Good girl," I've always thought. It's good to have a 
little pride in her wares of a women. 

But this is different. Much different. For the last 10 minutes she's been 
cussing up a storm while she frigged her own daughter to a sexual frenzy and 
then finished her off to orgasm by tongue lapping the little girl's cunt in away 
that would make a bi-sexual porn model proud. I jerk my head back down, snap my 
eyes open, and realize that I have a role to play too, and it's time I caught my 
cue. 

My left hand slips behind her head and grabs up a bunch of dirty blond hair. 
"Listen you whore, don't you yabber a bunch of shit at ME. I got work for you 
and that mouth." 

With that, I closed my palm and fingers tightly around the hair I gathered, 
pulling it to the scalp and then pulled her head right to the tip of my cock. 
She parted her lips instinctively and my meat member passed through the opening 
formed and made contact with her watery tongue. 

All I heard from her was a low moan which I took to be pleasure, which then 
immediately turned into an obscene sucking and slurping sound as her lips, 
cheeks and tongue began working together to apply suction and stimulation to the 
shaft and head of my dick. I moved my arm back and forth rhythmically to set the 
pace of the blow job, gripping her hair as tightly as I could, making sure her 
scalp was pulled tight against my fingers. 

This continued for about a minute when I looked up and noticed little Kari 
looking at the both of us with a small pout on her face. I couldn't tell for 
sure if she was upset, but as soon as she caught my eye her mouth turned even 
more directly to a frown. 

Was she upset because of the unladylike like treatment that I was dishing out to 
her mother? As ridiculous as that sounds, and as far from rational decorum as my 
sexually excited conscious was, a wee bit of "polite society" still intruded 
into my thinking. I froze with mom stuck on my lollipop, but still sucking on 
her own authority without the benefit of me moving her head back and forth. Then 
I spoke softly, almost tentatively, directly to Kari: 

"Hey sweetheart, why the rainy day look?" 

She replied almost immediately. "I was hoping you came to see ME tonight..." 

Instinct, honed from a lot of mess ups with women and a few successes, 
immediately animated my response. Almost with a violent tug of her hair, I 
pulled whore mom off of my cock with a loud pop. (Damn good thing the bitch 
didn't catch me with her teeth!) She fell back on her legs from the kneeling 
position and caught her backward momentum with a hand to the floor. But I was 
already climbing onto the bed, where Kari was. 

Naked from the hips down and with a cock dripping of drool and precum from the 
previous cock stroking and the short blow job just ended, I knelt next to this 
pretty little barely teenage girl. Her frown was already replaced with a slight 
grin and a barely audible giggle that arose from her throat as her body lightly 
bounced from my frantic movements to climb next to her on the bed. 

Her legs were still parted from the show of masturbation and cunnilingus just 
ended with her mother. Her tiny cotton top, with "spaghetti" straps over her 
shoulders and stopping well short of her belly button, covered a small A-cup 
push-up bra, origins unknown (yet). "Probably Victoria's Secret," I thought. 
Isn't that were all the preteen and teenage chicks with pretenses to being sluts 
shop now--with their mothers? 

Then I leaned down, ignoring her totally naked abdomen, hips, and ultra cute 
(but small!) hairless pussy. Instead, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and 
slipped them underneath her back. As I drew her up with my arms she collected 
her elbows underneath herself and my head went straight down to her lips, which 
parted immediately to allow my tongue to slide into her ready mouth. 

That began a writhing, rolling, laughing, urgent, and saliva laden make out 
session like I had not remembered having since before I was married. This little 
girl and I kissed so passionately that perhaps I needed to go back to high 
school and my slut girl friend to remember anything so innocent and totally 
sincere. We spoke nothing, but communicated constantly with laughs, nose rubs, 
sudden licks of tongues, and acted as though we were one. 

My hands glided over this tiny little girl. I marveled over the smoothness of 
her butt. Her incredibly small waist enchanted me. But I didn't push my hands up 
to her chest. I didn't need to. Everything I needed was in her small delicate 
but incredibly wet and alive mouth. Our lips, cheeks, chins, even our noses soon 
became positively covered in our intermingled saliva. While my rock hard dick 
was always there, after all I couldn't help but feel the tension of a 100% 
erection, I paid it no mind. Kari's mom didn't even register in my conscious for 
what seemed like forever. 

Then we both heard a rather flat, unimpressed voice rise to a can't-miss-it 
level and say: "O.K. you two fricken love birds, take a break and catch a 
breath!" 

We stopped with our tongues fully intertwined deep in her mouth and both started 
to giggle, blowing air through our sealed lips. 

Prior to tonight, the thought of making out with this little hot stuff and 
hearing her mother say something like THAT would have meant the nightmare of 
being caught red handed in the act. But this was no nightmare. The echos of my 
pounding heart seemed to me to fly off the masonry walls of yet another soccer 
motel. Kari's arms, which had been mostly wrapped around my neck and head, 
slowly loosened. Our lips parted. And we turned our heads to look at whore mom. 

"Good, now that I've got your attention, remember, this masturbation assistance 
club is not a one way street. I've got some needs too, you know." 

"Yeah, well, I've been carrying around a man-sized hard on for the past hour. 
What the fuck do you know about THAT, you dumb cunt?" I growled. 

Kari's mom was no quaking teen. She placed a hand on a hip and gave a side-wise 
glance at me. 

"If you hadn't yanked it out of my mouth before I could finish, you might be 
singing the praises of my world class cock sucking right now and be putting the 
finishing touches of a Picasso of cock slime on little-miss man-stealer's face 
over there." 

I looked at Kari and thought for a minute. She looked up at me with innocence 
and total trust while we lightly held each other.  While I had no problem with 
the concept of blowing my load on her young face and watching the milky sperm-
laced semen sticking to her two rows of braces in that small mouth (that somehow 
I had managed to keep my tongue from getting stuck in during the frenzy of 
making out), I wasn't sure it was right to ask that of her first time. Based on 
what her mom had been shouting to her about her failure to bring boys home from 
school to share with mom, I suspected that little Kari had not done her duty yet 
with respect to pleasuring a man or boy. But I also knew that she would need to 
be introduced to this part of oral sex so that she would understand and readily 
perform what was expected of her when she started seriously dating. And I 
allowed that I could play a special role in expanding her sexual awareness. But, 
so could her mom. 

"Baby" I said directly to Kari, "I need you to help me shut your fucking mom up, 
will you do it?" 

She did not hesitate, "Sure, I'd love to, What is it?" 

"Come with me to the side of the bed." I replied. 

With that, we crawled over to the side where Kari's mom waited. Mom brightened 
as we came toward her. 

"Cool, I thought you'd be reasonable. What we gonna do next?" She spat out in 
broken grammar laced with anticipation. 

Before she could finish I had swung my legs around and I was sitting on the edge 
of the bed. Kari did the same. I reached out and guided mom on her knees and 
stopped her in front of me. Or, I should say, in front of my hard cock standing 
straight up. 

Next, I reached down and took Kari's hand and lightly pulled it over to my hard 
cock. She immediately got the message and wrapped her hand around the shaft and 
looked up at me for instruction. I said nothing but just started moving her hand 
up and down on the shaft. By now it was mostly dry but her tiny, soft hand left 
an incredible tingle in the head of my cock that I simply can't describe. 

Then I began to speak slowly and directly to Kari's mom. "OK, you dirty slut, 
I've got a job for you. Your mouth is my condom, and your little girl is going 
to be my stroker. Like you said, she needs to learn to suck a boy off, but she 
should learn that from her mom, don't you think?" 

Kari's mom immediately broke into an wide, evil grin. "Mr. Dan, you have one 
hell of a way with words. I accept your challenge. It is my duty and my right to 
show my daughter how a women pleasures a man." 

With that, she bent her head down and resumed sucking on my cock. Kari stroked 
lightly, but did not really understand what she was to do, so she just kept 
doing what I had showed her. Mom reached up to take over the stroking, but I 
blocked her arm. 

"Whoa, whore, you teach, you don't do." 

Her eyes' flicked up at me with a gleam of understanding and without breaking 
the sucking action, she used her hands to gather both of Kari's hands around my 
shaft and squeezed them enough so that the stroking would do some good. The 
spittle that was left on the shaft from mom's mouth acted as replacement 
lubricant for the drool that had since dried from the earlier interrupted blow 
job. 

This continued, with mom sucking and making nasty loud popping sounds from the 
suction, while swirling her tongue around the head of my cock, from time to time 
pushing it into the hole at the end searching for precum. 

From time to time she pulled my cock out of her mouth and spoke to Kari in short 
clipped sentences about what she was doing. She explained the need to use her 
lips to cover the cock shaft and to use the tongue to bath the cock in a warm 
sensation of stimulation and saliva. She warned Kari about the cock going too 
far into the mouth and throat because of the gagging reflex that would surely 
hamper a girl her age. And she urged her to keep a steady hand on the shaft so 
that she could regulate a future boy's unauthorized lunge in that direction. 
("Baby, boys are pigs, they have no control.") 

For now, I let them do the blow jobbing and avoided adding to the action. 
Instead, I tried to concentrate on raising a world class orgasm so the 
ejaculation would be worth their effort. 

It didn't take long. With mom urging Kari and squeezing her hands, Kari's grip 
on the shaft tightened to the point where I could feel the contractions of 
orgasm near. Mom couldn't tell by feel, but she kept a close eye on my eyes and 
facial expression and she caught the drift. A sense of urgency began to take 
hold of her and her sucking and licking became intense. She started to make 
grunts and whines to urge Kari along with her own hard grip on the child's 
hands. That's when my loss of self control began to manifest itself verbally. 

"Oh God, Oh God, yes that's good, So fuckin good." Then my eyes opened and I 
looked down and snarled at mom. "Hey dirty fuckin hoe, what you say to this? 
Your little girl is jerkin my manhood in your fuckin mouth. Do you HEAR me you 
fucking hoe, YOUR FUCKING MOUTH! Keep jerking baby, I'm gonna use your mom's 
mouth and face. Oh God! Oh God! I'm going to use it good, fuckin good!" 

Kari just looked at my face and kept jerking my cock with her hands as best she 
could. Mom kept her eyes glued to Kari's hands and supervised the stroking. She 
knew that she would know right after me when I blew the wad. 

And, then, that's exactly what I did. My left leg started shivering and my cock 
started to spasm. My prostate got caught in a vice of contracting muscles as the 
orgasm hit me from head to toe. With the other leg starting to shiver, I put my 
hand underneath the lower hand of Kari as she kept pumping but not knowing 
exactly what was going on. I grunted as evenly as I could under the emotional 
torment of the orgasm so as to not scare Kari or make her feel she was doing 
something wrong. (After all she was doing great with mom's help!) It came out in 
measured but quick one word sentences. 

"Baby. Great! Awesome! Nice!" 

Then I pushed her hands up from underneath. She looked surprised as I pressured 
her hands and the motion popped the pumping cock from mom's mouth. The first 
rope of ejaculate had already into mom's mouth flowed like a stream of piss 
after three beers. I could feel the instant that the slippery slime filled the  
woman's mouth cavity. The feel of the extra lubrication was sudden. Now, the 
cock was pointed at the woman's upper lip and nose and the second rope blasted 
into her face like it was shot from a gelatin gun. 

And it kept shooting. The third rope was less and now the ejaculation was 
winding down. Mom's hands covered Kari's and she used them to work the cock head 
up and down and back and forth. The smell of the semen, sharp and odoriferous, 
floated up to my nostrils. Kari's mom was dripping with it. But she knew her 
role and acted it out well. 

"Yes Mr. Dan, show my baby how a man finishes his blow job in a woman's face. 
That's right, yeah that's it, make me a dirty mess. Kari, baby, do you see what 
semen is, baby? See it honey doll? This is what I want you to bring home to ME, 
baby. Please, lots of young cock that need our services. Yeah, baby. Look at the 
goo run down my nose. Emm, I got it in my mouth baby. Lots of sperm. Emmm." 

That's when I chimed in: "You fucking whore mom. Do you see what you made me 
do?" 

Turning slightly to Kari I continued. "Baby, I promise, when I finish in your 
mouth, it won't pop out and make your beautiful face nasty. Really, sweetheart, 
all you will have to do is help me stroke it off in your mouth, ok?" 

I was recovering my senses and I wanted to return to the tender, romantic 
feeling we had before the blow job grand finale. I took my right hand and used 
my fingers to gently stroke her neck and raise her chin toward my face. She rose 
immediately, letting go of my cock and wrenching her hands out from underneath 
her mom's hands. Mom kept stroking and using the cock to spread the ejaculated 
mess around her face, taking little sucks from the head of the cock as she did. 

Kari and I immediately went into a lip lock and I felt her tongue against mine. 
Then she slipped away slightly and quietly said: "Ok, that sounds like it will 
be fun. If it makes you happy to do that, I'll do it. I feel sooo good with you 
right now." 

Then with a slight inflection in her voice she almost broke my heart when she 
said: "Will you hold me and kiss me some more?" 

I laughed lightly and said: "Yes, of course Kari sweetheart! Let's move back 
onto the bed and put some space between us and this used condom..." 

I finished with a weak gesture toward her mom, who by now had let go of my 
pecker and was licking her lips and playing with a wad of semen like some 
internet porn hoe. Kari's mom was still dressed and that's when I noticed semen 
and probably saliva had dripped onto her halter top. She might as well have been 
a cum whore on ImageFap for all I cared at that moment. 

Kari and I moved back to the middle of the king-sized hotel bed and settled down 
to some late middle school, early high school making out. And if felt great! 

SCENE 3
=======
"Kari, honey?" I said just above a whisper. 

"Hmmm?" A soft murmur with a small inflection at the end was Kari's only reply. 
This 14 year-old teen girl possessed an athletic body sculpted from hours of 
running on a soccer pitch in practice and in games. Combined with her naturally 
slight build and the gift of being a very young girl, hardly out of puberty, I 
was beyond myself with animal attraction to this Venus of youth. It was an 
unfair advantage to compare her simple, natural, and innocent beauty to anyone 
not her own age. 

And she showed no shame whatsoever to be laying on top of me. Her small early 
teen A-cup breasts were still captured in a pink push up bra designed by some 
lingerie specialist to be knowingly marketed to girls who were as close to 
preteens as was possible without actually being one. Against my chest, the 
fabric of the tiny spaghetti-strapped pull over top hardly masked the feel of 
the bra and the breasts they contained. And below this pull over top that did 
not reach midriff the tiny young girl was naked. 

For that matter, so was I! And that meant the girl was straddling my waist while 
laying on top of me with the both of us lying in the expanse of the king-sized 
hotel bed. Normally, we veterans of a soccer traveling team groan when we get 
stuck with the remaining rooms in a sold-out hotel outfitted only with king size 
beds. It means awkward moments and efforts to find an alternative to male and 
female family members sleeping on the same bed. But now I had enough insight 
into Kari's and her mom's masturbation habits to realize that a king-sized bed 
was no accident in their room. 

With her legs flowing around either side of my waist, it meant that her small, 
hairless pussy was laying straight down on the next place it would touch. Her 
pussy lips were literally spread around my semi-hard cock. It was semi-hard 
because of the fabulous hand and blow job administered by her mom, with Kari's 
help.  Now I was relaxed, not pent up. I had the sanity and presence of mind to 
just hold the little girl against me. And she did the same to me. Her arms 
wrapped around my neck while mine covered her back and gently stroked her butt 
and legs; straying from time to time up her back. I looked down at her and she 
up at me. Our noses touched and we kissed and smacked lips in an absent minded 
way while exchanging a few words back and forth. 

Kari's murmur was that of a young girl experiencing the pleasure of a soft touch 
and warm embrace. But unlike the familiar experiences of her youth, this now 
came from a man who was intent on making it an erotic moment. Her pleasure at 
finally experiencing what girls her age and younger had been gossiping about 
seemingly forever was palpable. Like nearly all  girls her age, she was 
constantly questioning her self esteem, certain that some other girl that she 
envied was receiving this exciting experience whenever she wished, all because 
the "other" girl was prettier, more comfortable with herself around boys--and 
men--and was in turn desired by boys--and men--above herself. 

But now it was happening to her! Her body nearly shook with pleasure. A pleasure 
that strangely manifested itself with a churning stomach, a sweaty brow, a 
feeling like her face was aflame and red, and a wetness and warmth between her 
legs that defied even the regular pleasure that came from masturbating with her 
mom. This was something totally new. And every time this man said something, he 
seemed to provoke the feeling anew. 

"Baby doll, you are so pretty! I am so lucky to have a girl as beautiful and 
sexy as YOU with me tonight! Did you just now come down from heaven to be my 
angel? Where are your wings, baby! I know they're here somewhere." 

She writhed when I purposely touched her sides and goosed her lightly. The 
tickling was magnified by the intensity of the other sensations and the pounding 
of her heart. Fortunately for me, she caught herself before banging my chin and 
nose with the top of her head. I instinctively tried to raise a hand to protect 
my chin, but it would have been far too late. 

"Whoa, you gorgeous thing! I'm going to have to be more careful before I pull 
that stunt again!" I said while angling my head defensively away and laughing at 
having nearly caused my own painful injury. 

Kari just giggled and chased my retreating mouth with hers and then we were 
French kissing with passion and urgency all over again. It had been like this 
for awhile since the successful conclusion of the mother-daughter hand and blow 
job. How long I didn't know nor had I cared. 

In fact, I had assumed that her mom would retreat to the bathroom to clean the 
mess of semen I had deposited over most of her face. Most women did that, with a 
run to a towel, any towel, that bespoke the lack of appreciation for the 
complement just paid. I had grown used to it. So I assumed that the return of 
Kari's mom from cleaning up would be the alarm clock for this joyful interlude 
with Kari. 

I had not considered that Kari's mom might have another point of view when it 
came to receiving a face full of sperm from me. Instead of running to the 
bathroom, she had found the standard hotel room recliner and laid back in it 
still fully clothed in shorts and her scoop neck halter top, with her ample C-
cup tits bound up in a sexy black bra. 

As I swung my head down following the near collision with Kari's head, I looked 
over Kari's face while we lip locked and spotted her mom there in the chair. One 
hand was pushed up into her shorts through one leg opening. The other hand was 
stuffed in her bra where I could clearly see that it was cradling a creamy tit 
inside the straining bra. The first hand was virtually certain to be frigging 
her pussy. What else could it be doing? And, with her head back, I could see in 
the low light from a weak hotel compact fluorescent lamp on the table that a 
shiny mess left over from my ejaculation was still covering her face. She was 
wearing the sperm-infested man paint like a trophy. Her mouth was open and her 
lips formed a circle as the sound of light breathing through them reached my 
ears. Her eye lids were shut, but only lightly so. Both of her arms were moving 
with the effort of masturbating herself. That was when I realized that fair was 
fair. Kari and I owed her mom something. 

"Hey, Kari, listen to me." As I pulled my lips off of the little beauty's mouth. 
She tried to prevent it, but I was stronger. 

"Kari, baby doll...yes, baby I know, I know, I like it too sweetheart..." I 
laughed while fighting off her mouth searching urgently for mine. "Look, you 
gorgeous thing, we need to do something for your mom." 

Kari relaxed as this statement settled down upon her like a fact that could not 
be ignored. For being only 14 and with her lust suddenly stoked to a fiery 
pitch, I was impressed with her maturity at handling my interruption. 

"O, ok Mr. Dan, yeah, I guess you're right." 

I was impressed with her wish to continue referring to me with the modern 
version of what a polite kid says in reference to an adult. At least she wasn't 
calling me "Mr. Dirty Old Man"! 

"Look, since you are the one who usually helps her with that over there..." I 
gestured toward the MILF in the process of masturbating herself to orgasm "why 
don't you call her over here and we'll help her out together. How does that 
sound?" 

"Ok, sure, that sounds cool." Was Kari's suddenly enthusiastic reply. 

Then she lifted herself up off my chest with her hands and twisted to face her 
mother across the room and said "Hey momma, Mr. Dan and I want you to come over 
here with us!" 

Without slowing down her hand from what I could see she must be doing to her 
pussy buried underneath her shorts or moving her head from its position hanging 
back resting on the top of the recliner,  she replied "Why baby? I'm trying to 
get off over here." 

"Momma, 'cause we want to help you feel good in your pussy!" Was Kari's quick 
reply. 

Kari's mom seemed to ignore her daughter for a moment longer, but then her hands 
started to slip out of her clothing, and she leveled her head in our direction. 
"Really? I thought you two were going to fuck and leave me to my own devices!" 

Despite everything that had just happened of a sexual nature, things that could 
only be partly explained with the phrase "assisting masturbation." And despite 
everything that her mother had said to her daughter in lust filled nasty 
statements, I still nearly blushed at the reference to fucking her daughter. 
Call me old fashioned, but I just wasn't prepared for her mom to be practically 
betrothing us after less than one date! 

Her mom then got out of her chair and climbed onto the edge of the bed. The 
sturdy king-sized bed took hardly a notice. I saw her recently sperm covered 
face coming my direction like a strange character in a low-budget movie. It had 
to be drying on her face by now, but it was still shiny in the soft light. And I 
saw something that might have been semen start as a drop hanging off her cheek 
but then start to stretch into a long strand from the jostling of her movement. 
It finally parted from her face and fell onto the bed spread, disappearing in 
the maize of the fabric. I thought to myself, "Glad I'm not making the bed in 
the morning." 

As mom got close, Kari reached out her hand and slid it behind her mom's head, 
pulling her toward us. 

As I watched, I whispered to Kari "give her a kiss, sweet thing." 

Why I said this should be no mystery. I'm a man, and I like seeing chicks kiss. 
I especially like seeing two girls kiss while wearing my manhood. There's no 
point in looking for a reason. A man simply likes this act of lewd and nasty 
behavior from the girls in his life. He just does. Tonight was no exception. 

Kari looked back at me and gave me nasty flick of her tongue. Where did she 
learn THAT I wondered. It didn't take long to conjecture an answer. This 
"innocent" little girl had been around other "innocent" teen and preteen girls, 
her peers, long enough to pick up all manner of nasty thoughts and behaviors. 

Kari immediately swiveled herself across my chest to face her mom. In the 
process, I was now facing a most beautiful site. A pink and seemingly impossibly 
small pussy. It was slightly spread open by the physical separation of her legs. 
I could see the clitoral hood between the larger lips of the labia. Her vaginal 
hole was still invisible. Her tightly clinched anus was clear as day, perched 
above the lower end of her pussy lips, where they taper away into her butt 
crack. I was immediately smitten by the beauty of this display. So did my dick. 
A steady stirring began, like a snake coming alive from the touch of the first 
rays of the sun in the morning. My snake. I felt a slight pulsing from my cock 
head. This meant a loss of sanity could be in my future if this continued. 
Kari's beautiful, small, hairless, perfectly formed little girl pussy remained 
suspended above me. Her ass started wagging as her other end began doing 
something. I assumed it was with her mother. 

I peered around the little girl's thigh to see what I was missing. Mom and 
daughter where lightly kissing and rubbing noses and cheeks. Mom was whispering 
to Kari encouragement and instructions. 

"Come on Kari. Yeah, that's cool. Ummm, that's it lick it off of me. Good girls 
share the sperm." 

And then mom chuckled from the silliness of that last comment, not to mention 
the tickling that came from her young daughter's licking and kissing across the 
mother's face. 

I saw a congealed tendril of what I assumed was sperm filled semen rolling on 
her mother's face as Kari licked. And then it caught on the lower lip of Kari's 
mouth. And then it was gone, somewhere in Kari's mouth. That was all I could 
take. My cock had reached full mast. This display of mother-daughter nastiness 
was stimulation that no man could resist. My erection was proof of my own 
weakness. 

My erection took over my thinking, if thinking is a word that you can use to 
describe a man in my condition.  I reached up and placed both hands around 
Kari's butt and directed my face right into the little girl snatch that was 
teasing me inches above my head. My nose disappeared between the bottom portion 
of the lips framing the upside down cunt. My lips parted around one of her pussy 
lips and my tongue slid into the folds of her cunt. I swirled my tongue and 
tasted the acidic flavor I knew all too well. A 14 year-old cunt tastes about 
the same as any other. It's just in the nature of things. The smell was vintage 
pussy. For just a moment I almost launched my face hard into her pussy, as 
temporary insanity overcame me, but I resisted loosing control. Why risk 
possibly hurting her or upsetting a good feeling by becoming a pig? I could tell 
I was on the hairy edge of a sexual lust that could take over all my actions. 

Kari reacted positively to this violation of her most private inner sanctum. Her 
butt leaned back lightly into my face. I then broke the embrace of man on pussy 
and lightly moved her butt aside and addressed her mom directly. 

"Hey, cool chick, you need some help with those clothes?" 

I gently pushed Kari further to the side that her body had slid while kissing 
and licking her mother’s ejaculation covered face. That slid Kari off of me and 
she landed on all fours on the bed. I was able to sit up on the bed and fold my 
legs underneath me, giving me a front row view of the action. 

I decided it was time for the party to get naked.  Placing a hand on Kari’s back 
I lightly tugged her top so she leaned back toward me. I then whispered loudly 
“Kari, let’s get your mom naked! You take her top, I’m going for her bottom.” 
Kari nodded her understanding and we both turned toward her mom, whose eyes were 
mostly shut and both hands were down on the bed supporting her. 

Kari started pulling up on mom’s top, which made mom sit up and raise her hands 
high. I reached down and pulled the button holding her shorts closed. Then I 
pulled the zipper down, revealing lacey black hip-hugging thong panties in the 
wedge created by the parting zipper. I took hold of the legs of the shorts and 
gave them a light tug, and they yielded across mom’s hips without much protest. 
The shorts stopped when they hit the bed at mom’s knees. 

I turned my attention to the thong, slipping my fingers over the thin straps and 
pulled them down. The front of the panties rolled down revealing the woman’s 
pussy in the triangle formed by her thighs. I instantly felt my excitement 
provoked at the sight of her female anatomy, like seeing a wonderful view after 
cresting a hill. As the panties joined the shorts at the knees of the woman, I 
took a closer look at my quarry. It was hairless as far as I could see in the 
dim light. The pussy lips were expansive reflecting the maturity of the woman, 
and the noticeable heft that came with her slightly more than full figure. I 
could see a large clit and hood protruding from the lips, probably engorged by 
the woman’s own vigorous stimulation. Clearly she was conscious of her looks 
down there because her whole pubic area was smooth and free of hair. I liked 
what I saw. 

“Hey Kari, your mom’s pussy is pretty! Just like yours. Cool.” 

I looked up to see her mom’s breasts right in front of me. Kari had helped her 
mom remove the top and the bra in no time at all. I had to admit, the cleavage 
she had always been proud of was reflected in the naked tits themselves. I 
looked at mom right in the eyes and said “hmm, nice tits honey.” 

She smiled quickly and replied “cop a feel sailor?” 

I took the invitation literally and reached out and massaged the nearest one. It 
was soft and very pliable. Natural all the way. “The real McCoy, eh? I love them 
sweetie!” was the cheeky comment that spilled from my lips. 

Then I looked at Kari. Her top and bra were the only stitches of clothing left 
on her. As for me, I had taken my shirt off after the blowjob. I said “Baby, 
time to get you naked.” even though she had been naked below the waist for quite 
sometime. I reached over and lifted her top from the hem. Rather than let me 
finish, she crossed her bent arms and pulled the hem up herself and over her 
head. It was an erotic sight. Her tight figure framed by her butt bent one way 
and her torso angling the other. As her top lifted, she looked momentarily like 
a porn model in mid act. If my cock could get any harder, it just did. The back 
of the pink bra was suddenly revealed to me. Without hesitation, I reached over 
with both of my hands and began struggling with the single clasp; I was never 
good at releasing boobs from a bra (James Bond must get some help when he does 
it!). She cocked her head in my direction and began to smirk. 

“Hey Mr. Dan, need some help?” 

Just then the clasp popped open and the previously tightly pulled straps 
suddenly went slack. I immediately slid my hands to either side of her torso and 
kept the bra moving off of her from the front. As I reached around her front I 
slid both palms over her young A-cup titties. They were firm with small nipples 
pointing straight out. I could not see them, but I knew their shape and youthful 
dimensions were certain to be better than beautiful. Just the feel prompted me 
to say “Hey, baby doll, you have awesome tits.” 

She asked, in a suddenly defensive voice, “Are you sure Mr. Dan? Really, do you 
think so?” 

Typical, I thought. She’s insecure about her breasts, like virtually all women, 
but especially a young teenager. 

I twisted her half way around in my direction and saw what I had been touching. 
That allowed me to pour on the flattery. Her question was not seeking an answer, 
it was seeking reassurance. I did not want to let her down. 

“Kari, darling, you have the most magnificent tits. Please tell me I’m not 
dreaming. I absolutely love your breasts. You are totally gorgeous! And your 
tits are just another perfect part of you.” 

With that I turned back toward mom and wrapped an arm around her and pulled all 
three of us closer. 

“Momma, Kari and I want you to be as happy as we are tonight. Why don’t you lay 
down and let us get to work on your fine clit? By the way, I love your shaved 
pussy! I’m just going to have to call you my two little girls. I absolutely love 
it.” 

Turning to Kari, I gave a quick instruction. “Kari, let’s get your mom’s legs 
apart and get her off together. What do you say?” 

She said nothing. Both her and her mom had obviously used this position and this 
division of labor for sexual stimulation before. And more times than once I was 
sure. We alternated licking mom’s pussy, covering the clit with saliva from our 
tongues and encouraging each other to suck her genitals into our mouths and suck 
her off like a blow job. We snuck a quick kiss between each other from time to 
time, too. It took only a short time to bring her mom to a loud and physical 
orgasm. Holding one of the woman’s thighs was a chore. How Kari held the other 
beats me. 

Following mom's orgasm she just went limp on the bed. Her finger's, which had 
been sharing time with our tongues on her clit, stopped moving and went slack 
while lightly touching the edges of her pussy lips. I could tell that the events 
of tonight had exhausted her and as her breathing returned to normal, she 
drifted off to sleep. 

My face was covered with an accumulation of vaginal secretions and the spit of 
Kari and I the likes of which I had not known for years. And I had a steely 
erection. Under the influence of this erotic stimulation, my cock had not needed 
a longer break to recover. But as I gathered my thoughts I knew my bewitching 
hour was upon me. I would be lucky to make it back to my room without being 
noticed in the hallway by others in our group. Or worse, Amanda might have 
returned to our room early. I needed to get back in my own bed before this 
amazing set of events took a turn for the worst and required immediate 
explanations. Ignoring the yearning in my cock and a nagging belief that relief 
for that erection could easily be found inside the body of a 14 year-old hottie 
resting on the other side of her mother, I twisted my body to the edge of the 
bed and swung my legs around so my feet hit the floor in a sitting position. 

I stood up and started rooting around the floor for my shorts and shirt. I 
figured I would chance it and leave the room with a face covered in pussy juice 
and spit. If anyone decided they needed a hug from ole Dan tonight, they might 
decide they were hugging a vagina instead! If I thought I knew of no one who 
would try that tonight, I was mistaken. I heard a small voice back on the bed. 

“Mr. Dan, why are you leaving me so soon?” 

I stopped fumbling with my clothes and lifted my head. I knew I needed to go, 
but I didn’t want to upset the beautiful teen behind that voice either. She was 
experiencing, perhaps for the first time, the emotional pleasure of an erotic 
experience with a male admirer. That could easily lead to an infatuation that 
might result in a disastrous emotional let down. I did not want to hurt her. And 
I surely did not want her to hurt me. 

Before I accepted the original invitation to come to this room, I had considered 
the potentially thorny problems that might arise. Because the invitation came 
from her mom, I was pretty certain that if anything like what I hoped might 
happen actually did, then I would have mom to help manage the aftermath. Now 
that it had happened and more, I knew that I would need to contact mom at the 
next opportunity to work out an understanding. 

But right at THIS moment, I realized I had a responsibility to talk to Kari 
about what we had done and experienced. I had to find away to leave her with a 
positive feeling about our mutual expressions of affection. I was sincere in 
that affection and I had a growing feeling that she was too. But that door 
leading to the hallway also lead back to the real world. And I knew it was too 
“real” out there to understand what had happened in here. But I had to do 
something and do it fast. 

“Hey Kari, come here sweetheart?” I asked in reply. 

Stark naked, she crawled off the bed and came over to me. I intercepted her 
shoulders with my hands and glanced down her front. It was an incredible sight. 
Her perfect young mounds with tiny nipples on the ends looked marvelous on her 
ultra slim shapely body. And further down, past her flat tummy, there was the 
erotic image of her pussy, looking childlike in its smooth and clean but tiny 
symmetry. I saw two protruding lips with an enigmatic dark crease in between. I 
thought it might be the most beautiful sight a man could hope to see. 

I drew her to me and embraced her. In turn, she rested her hands on my broad 
shoulders as her tiny body folded into mine. I looked down on her upturned 
delicate face. It inspired me to find the loving and encouraging words that I 
wanted to use to express my feelings. 

“Kari, darling, please listen to me for a minute.” I began. “You are the most 
beautiful and sexy young lady I have had the privilege to hold close to me. I 
want to thank you for bringing joy and excitement to my evening. It was your 
invitation, not your mothers, that I sought and accepted. Now, we need to take 
the next step.” 

She looked confused and expressed her confusion with a question. “I don’t 
understand, what’s the next step?” 

“Baby, I need to leave now and go back to my room. You need to go to bed. You 
have responsibilities in the morning. It’s the right thing for both of us to do 
now. There will be other days and other times for us to be together again…” 

Those last words provoked an immediate physical response from Kari. Her arms 
flew up around my neck and her hands clasped together behind my head in a grip 
that practically sealed the front of her body and face to mine. This was 
followed by her urgent appeal. 

“No! I need you to stay with me. PLEASE stay with me tonight. I can’t bear the 
thought of going to sleep without you holding me all night. I felt good when you 
kissed me! I want to keep feeling good!” 

I sighed. Had I underestimated the challenge I now faced? Had I really thought 
through what I had got myself into? Despite my unease, I couldn’t help but laugh 
at my predicament. It came out with my reply as a chuckle. 

“Kari, please understand. Just because I can’t be with you any longer tonight 
doesn’t mean you won’t be in my thoughts and dreams all night long. And you can 
do the same about me. Please gorgeous girl…” 

Before I continued I took her cheeks into the palms of my hand and looked deep 
down into her youthful eyes. 

“…will you dream about me too? Will you pleasure yourself when you think of me? 
I promise that we will spend time together again. But for now, fantasize about 
me when you masturbate, ok? I promise to do the same when I even think of your 
name, or dream of your voice. Ok? And when you see me tomorrow, think about our 
embraces. Think about our kisses. And know it will be like that again. Soon. Can 
you do that for me sexy girl? Tell me you will, please sweetheart…” I ran out of 
words and let my voice trail off, hoping she would listen to me and understand. 

There was only silence while her grip around my neck continued. And then, I felt 
her fingers loosen. And then they parted and her hands slowly slid down my neck 
and down my shoulders. I slowly loosened my hold on her in turn. And then she 
was standing very near with her arms at her side and her gaze straight ahead. I 
could read a slight pout on her lips, but no more of her emotions leaked from 
her gaze. I knew I should leave now, while there was still time. 

Quickly pulling on my shorts and shirt in a silence that was now deafening, I 
started moving toward the door. As I reached for the door knob, I heard her 
mother start to lightly snore. I looked at the light coming through the crack in 
the door and hesitated. 

“Kari, sweetheart you were wonderful this evening. I think you are so beautiful. 
Don’t forget what I told you, ok?” 

And then I looked directly into her eyes and smiled. Standing like a statue of a 
naked nymph so common to the squares and plazas of old Europe, the gorgeous 
young teenager couldn’t help herself. She returned my smile. That’s when I knew 
it would be ok, at least for tonight. 

I turned back to the door and listened for the noise of unwelcome company in the 
hallway beyond. Hearing none, I slipped through the door and was thankfully 
welcomed by an empty hotel hallway. 

With a face covered in pussy juice, I took advantage of my good fortune and 
strode purposefully back to where I belonged