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Subject: B&E Artist, 1 (Mf,voy,pd)
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===================
ADULT MATERIAL. WARNING!
What you are about to read is sexual fantasy intended for adults only.
If
you are not of legal age to read or view sexually-oriented material,
STOP
HERE. DO NOT READ BEYOND THIS POINT. If you are offended by sexual
fantasies involving incest, STOP HERE. DO NOT GO BEYOND THIS POINT
We offer very hot father-daughter incest and young girl-older man sex
fantasies
Copyright 2000. 2001. 2002. 2003. daddysgirls.com
Daddy's Incest Diaries
The B&E Artist, Chapter One
Daddy Dick's Note: Alvin "Al" M., age 48, was always attracted to
young girls, but he was only a closet pedo-daddy until two years ago.
He bought erotic books, especially those featuring father-daughter
incest, and whatever photos of naked young girls he could find and
fucked them in his fantasies. But "Murph" was a 100 percent
law-abiding citizen. He never actually considered risking sexual
contact with the objects of his desires. Chance changed all that
shortly after he moved to a growing rural/suburban community within
commuting distance of Chicago. That's where 12-year-old Sigrid stepped
into his life and changed it forever.
A little over two years ago, I moved to a tiny town about 60 miles
from Chicago where I work as a commodity trader. Mt. Holly is kind of
an odd little town-one of those places where wealthy city residents
started moving about 10 years ago to escape urban crime, pollution and
congestion of the city and close-in suburbs. I'm one of those--a
"carpetbagger" to the old-time residents.
The neighborhood where I live is on the outskirts Mt. Holly, and it's
a changing neighborhood. By that I mean that there are lots of
old-time local people living here, mixed in with a batch of newcomers
like me. The lots are all 2 acres or more, and the houses are well
spread out, but, still, it has become a kind of like a big city suburb
in many respects.
Nobody is friendly, and I had lived there for six months without a
single one of my neighbors dropping by to introduce themselves and
welcome me to the community. I guess the longtime residents didn't
want a thing to do with us city folks, and most of the city folks
acted just like they did in the city-noses in the air and distinctly
uninterested in anyone but themselves.
So, when I noticed my spare set of keys and the magnetic hide box
missing from under my SUV one summer day, I just figured they had been
knocked off while driving. I had lost a magnetic box before and wished
I had duct taped it onto the frame. I didn't think much else about it,
at first.
Then, after returning home from two-week island cruise vacation, I
started noticing little things that told me right away someone had
been into my house while I was gone. Alerted, I began watching for
clues whenever I returned after a day in the city. There were many
little clues. Nothing was missing, but I would come home and find
something on the fireplace mantle had been knocked off, or my computer
had been turned on and subsequently crashed, leaving me to wait out a
scan disk procedure on several occasions for no apparent reason. I
also noticed a missing roach or two from my roach motel that I keep
near the computer in my home office.
I was, of course, alarmed. It was apparent someone was entering my
house and had viewed my computer files and raided my meager pot
supply. Needless to say, I was totally paranoid after I discovered how
regularly these break-ins were happening. My burglar was coming into
my house every day while I was at work. I couldn't imagine who it
might be, but it was real spooky. It had to be someone who lived close
enough to see me coming and going and to know about how long I would
be absent when I left the house.
Things like this had happened to me in the past. Bachelors make good
targets for burglars and snoops, because when nobody is home, it is
obvious to an observer. And, in the totally-fucked American society of
today, if you are a man and not married, no kids, you are
automatically considered an "oddball"-at the very best. In their worst
imaginings, you are a possible serial killer and child molester. For
those very reasons, I had always gone out of my way to never give
anyone reason to wonder.
So, I changed the door locks and stowed my spare keys outside in a
new, hidden spot along the side of the house, under a rock. You can't
imagine how upsetting it was to find new spares were gone the very
next day! This really made me paranoid-ballistic. Just imagine,
whoever this person was knew I indulged in a controlled substance and
had seen some of my hottest pictures on my computer. There are a lot
of people in jail nowadays for doing less, and I was downright scared.
I cleaned everything out of the house, including every bit of young
erotica I had collected over the years. I nearly cried when I burned
it, thinking of all those treasured images that had brought me so many
hardons, so many cums. When the house was clean, I felt a little more
at ease, but ask yourself, could you feel comfortable in your own
house knowing someone was entering it surreptitiously? I had no idea
what the motive might be or what the burglar might do with all the
personal secrets he had discovered.
It was just by accident that I found out at least one reason the
burglar was entering my house. While cruising some of my favorite
newsgroups-the pre-teen and early-teen binary groups of course-I
noticed that several messages had been downloaded while I wasn't home
to download them. There were some downloaded and viewed but not
viewed, so they had not been removed in cleanup when quitting the news
reader.
Whoever it was shared my tastes in sex. The images downloaded were of
young girls engaged in sex with mainly older men. My guess is that the
burglar had been interrupted and was forced to crash the machine and
make a dash for the back door upon hearing my truck pull into the
garage. Knowing the burglar was into young sex pix eased some of my
fears, but not much. It was just creepy knowing this person could just
walk into my house any time he wanted. My computer's main log also
gave me another good tidbit of information-I could tell exactly what
time the intruder booted my machine. The boot-ups came every
afternoon, nearly every day at around the same time, between 3:30 p.m.
and 4 p.m. Since I never made it home until after 7 p.m. and the sneak
usually shut down between 6 and 6:30 p.m., I knew exactly what time I
could surprise him.
But was that the thing to do? What might happen?
The culprit plainly had to be someone who could watch me without being
seen. It could have been anyone living where I drove past every
morning, or one of my neighbors, and there were only four of them
close enough to leisurely violate my privacy without worry of getting
caught.
I was completely stumped. I didn't have a guess. One neighbor next
door and his wife were in their late 70s, and young couple in their
30s across the road were never home long enough to spend time watching
me. The only other possibility was the next-door neighbor on the other
side-a working, professional 30-something woman who lived in the big
brick house next door with her daughter. No men were ever around the
house. I had seen them often, although I saw the girl more than I did
her mother. She had been the cause of many a hardon.
The girl had often waved at me, and I noticed she seemed to be home
unsupervised every day after school until her mother returned about 7
o'clock. She was a startling beauty, and I guessed she was around 11
or 12 years old-just the age I always fantasized about fucking. I had
a hard time believing either the mother or the girl could be my
mystery break-in artist though. My focus shifted to the old man next
door. Maybe the old guy was just a pervert like me. Maybe he was just
a lowdown sneak. It was driving me crazy, and I felt alarmed enough to
invest in a television security system that recorded the living room
and my office whenever I was gone.
I bought two of those concealed cameras that nobody would ever guess
was a camera, hooked them to a special long-play security tape machine
and turned it on before I left for work in the mornings. It didn't
take long to catch my burglar.
It was the very first day after I had the system installed. When I
came in the door, I saw the VCR had been tripped and had recorded
about two hours of tape. I rewound it and hit the play button, feeling
very smug that my trap had worked. I was dying to see who it was. I
expected to see the old man on the other side of the street, or maybe
some young teenage neighborhood boy from down the street who had too
much time on his hands.
The TV flicked and bug wars shown briefly until the recorded tape ran
across the heads. It showed the door opening and silhouette step
inside. I saw who it was immediately, and my heart skipped a few beats
at the same time my dick started getting hard.
It was the beautiful young girl from next door. Sigrid was her name.
I had heard her mother call for her in the backyard on several
occasions. She was wearing a short blue school dress jumper over a
white blouse, white socks and a pair of saddle oxfords. Her hair was
natural platinum blonde and hung down to her shoulders. It was cut
perfectly straight across the back. I love girls with that hair
style. They look so preppy-rich-snotty-bitch. She was beautiful,
perfection in fact-a young Nordic nymph in every respect. I believe
she is the most perfect girl I have ever seen. While the uniform
didn't reveal her body, I had seen plenty in her yard work outfits and
knew what kind of delights hid beneath that dark blue jumper.
I had tried to avoid looking at her ever since I moved in, because I
was afraid of being accused of something . Besides, dwelling on her
perfection and inherent sensuality only gave me hardons what wouldn't
go away. It doesn't pay to obsess about these fantasies when the girl
is real and lives next door.
She was about 5'5" and just perfectly proportioned, at least in my
mind. I had seen her just a few weeks ago in shorts and a halter top
in her yard after school. I had even put the field glasses on her and
had jacked off as I watched her work in the yard through my darkened
bedroom window. Her butt cheeks showed from the bottom of her very
short, shorts, and I could glimpse a side view of her small girl
titties every now and then as she bent or moved in the just the right
way. They were young, fresh little titties-absolutely firm and
sticking up high on her chest.
Yes, of course I fantasized about fucking her, but I never said a word
to either her or her mother, and they had never said anything to me.
The mother didn't even wave if she passed me on the road, but I did
notice the girl seemed to spend a lot of time outside on my side of
her yard. I would have paid anything to just look at her naked. I
mentally undressed her time and again.
It was obvious from viewing the tape that she had been inside many
times. She went straight to my office, sat down in front of my
computer and turned it on. While she was waiting, she looked around
the desk for my roach motel but didn't find it since it was long gone.
According to the time stamp on the VCR, the girl entered my house at
exactly 3:46 p.m., just about ten or fifteen minutes after the school
bus would have delivered her home. I watched as she manipulated the
mouse with obvious experience. I couldn't see the screen, but after
about 15 or 20 minutes of clicking, she leaned back in my chair and
raised her skirt. My heart skipped more beats as I saw her hand pull
her panties down, all the way to her knees. When she lifted her ass
off the seat to slip her panties down, I caught a glimpse of her mound
but from a poor angle for viewing. It appeared to be hairless, but
the camera was too far off to the side for a good look. She started
playing with herself then, and was humping up to her hand quite
vigorously in just a few more minutes.
I cursed that the camera covering my office was set up wrong. I
couldn't get a good look at her young pussy, but I could see her hand
in action and her facial expressions. Every now and then, she would
reach up to click-probably viewing another newsgroup picture, I
guessed. She must have found one image she really liked then, because
she kicked her panties down to the floor and spread her legs wide in
my chair and started finger fucking herself and humping her ass, first
slow, then faster and faster until she threw her head back and arched
her butt up off my chair.
"O o good " I heard her moan. I could hear her gasping for breath.
My dick was hard as a rock, and my imagination was working overtime.
As I watched this beautiful young girl of my dreams finger-fuck
herself to climax, I took my cock out and jacked off. I came when she
stood and pulled her panties up. For a second, I caught a glimpse of
her cunt-a perfect slit with no visible pubic hair. I rewound and
replayed that short segment over and over again until the image of her
bare slit was burned into my brain.
Just before she pulled her panties up, she turned to look at the
monitor again. She spread her legs and pushed her hips forward as her
hand went back between her legs. She stood her and played with
herself, legs spread, dress hiked up, panties back to about her knees.
Then I heard her say something, very low. It was the first time she
had spoken a word out loud since walking into the house. With cock in
one hand, I used the other to rewind and increase the volume.
"Ummmm, " I heard her mumble, barely audible. "Oh, oh "
Her voice was low and she was twisting her face and sticking out her
tongue. I wished I could see her cunt better as she kept
finger-fucking and jamming her hips forward onto her hand.
She came again standing up, squeezing her legs together and trapping
her own hand in her crotch.
Finally, she pulled her panties all the way up, looked around the
office again, for roaches I guessed. Then she shut down the computer
and wandered into the living room. She looked over the book cases and
pulled one of my erotic novels out. She leafed through it a little,
but as she did my bird song clock sang out. She looked at the clock
and put the book back on the shelf, but she laid it on top of the
other books instead of putting it back into its slot.
I was just beside myself with lust. I replayed the pussy view and
moans and pants over and over again. I came so many times that night
that my back hurt in the morning. I paid it no attention, because I
had the young girl next door on my mind. I jacked off again the next
morning to the tape, loaded a new tape and moved the office camera,
disguised as an electric clock, to the monitor stand. This time, I
would get a much better view of her finger-fucking her pussy as well
as her face which, as I said, was just absolutely stunning. I also
left a small roach on the computer desk, right on the mouse pad where
she would be sure to find it. Finally, I downloaded some really hot
porn pix from a favorite newsgroup and left one of them on screen with
the machine still running. When my little burglar/slut sat down at my
computer this time, I thought, she'd get her eyes full.
As I drove off that morning, she filled my mind with erotic images of
that hairless little cunt, that perfect, tiny butt and that long,
straight platinum blonde hair framing the most lovely young girl face
I had ever seen. It was going to be a long day on the market floor,
and for the first time in my life, I actually thought about risking
everything and making "it" happen with the little girl next door
-end chapter 1-
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