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Crystal - By Mack the Knife
   One - A Man, a Girl, and a Pool.
   I suppose I should start when things started to change.
   The first memory I have of those days was standing in the patio doorway
of our home.  It was a nice home, nothing fancy, but for being outside
Atlanta, it had a lot of room.  I had managed to wheedle the property out
of a farmer whom my parents knew when he needed a large sum of cash all at
once.  It was most of an acre and sat across the access road from a largish
subdivision.  It also sat on top of a small hill.  When I stood at my front
door, I felt like a lord overlooking the peasants below.  That thought
always gave me a chuckle.  The lot had been wooded, and with a lot of
sweat, and quite a few bruises and sore muscles, and a couple of sticks of
dynamite I managed to clear room for a home and a large back yard with
trees around the whole periphery.  The whole property sloped downhill from
the split-level single story Jennifer and I had built.  One front side
sloped down to the road, and the facing row of little crammed together
houses.  The back side of the property sloped down to the trees I had left
in place.  It was our quiet haven in a loud world.
   I had been missing Jennifer a lot of late.  She had died in a car
accident four years before.  That had been the lowest point in my life.  I
always missed her, but recently, I had been missing her more pointedly.  I
was trying to raise a young lady, and I needed her help.  Crystal was our
daughter, and our lives for a long while.  Then she had been my life since
Jennifer's death.  I got a telecommuting job and stayed home to make sure
she always had access to a parent.  It didn't pay as much, but since
Jennifer and I had built the home with cash, I wasn't in debt.  Crystal was
growing up like a hothouse orchid.  It seemed every time I looked at her.
She was older, taller, and more, well, more a woman.
   I was wondering at that now.  She was four foot seven now, as the
notches by the patio door attested to.  She weighed about one hundred
pounds, and every ounce of it bone or muscle.  She was incredibly strong
for such a small thing, and I always found myself amazed at her displays of
might.  Crystal had her mother's straight silken brown hair.  She also had
her mothers stunning green eyes.  She had my olive skin tone and, much to
my chagrin, my nose.  If any feature of my daughter could be said to be
anything but lovely, it was her rather rounded nose.  She had just had her
twelfth birthday, and now it was early summer.
   Seven months ago I had shepherded her through her first period. 
Naturally, she had started while at school.  I received a phone call from
the office staff telling me she had an `accident' and would probably like
to come home for the day.  The nature of the problem was unclear, but she
was healthy and safe, but would need parental assistance.  I broke only a
few speeding and stop sign laws getting to the school in the attempt to
save my angel from `utter mortification.' I managed to escort her out under
cover of other kids being in class and got her to the car.  On the way home
I stopped at Wal Mart and went inside to get her necessaries.  Inside, I
pidgin holed a youngish female employee and asked for her assistance on
this matter of life and death.  After being grilled about such charming
issues as build, gap, flow, thickness, clothes, and how wide my daughters
groin was, the girl pointed me to a shelf now narrowed down to about fifty
products.  I had to choose from pad or tampon, wings or no wings, maxi or
mini, light or heavy, and several other criteria I would rather skip on. 
After spending fifteen minutes thinking way harder than was comfortable
about my daughter's privates and preferences, I emerged victoriously with a
box of standard Stay-Free mini pads.  So, off to the house we go, making
sure to park inside the garage to minimize terminal emotional trauma from
the neighbors seeing her in such a state.  I stood outside the bathroom
door with the box in my hand, trying to guide her through the procedure as
delineated on the box in little drawings.  Finally, I grabbed the phone and
dialed Crystal's Aunt April.  April had me give Crystal the phone and
apparently guided her though the rest of the process without incident.  My
sister still gives me shit about that frantic phone call.
   To list just her physical attributes would be to sell her far short of
the mark.  My Crystal would have been amazing even if wheelchair-bound. 
She had a sharp wit, and an analytical outlook on the world.  Everything
she saw she took with a grain of salt.  It was fun watching her watch
commercials meant for girls her age and to observe her dissect why that
particular product or service `wasn't worth a crap.' It made me proud to
know she would be no man's fool.  She was bright, but of course a parent
would say that, but I have good reason.  By twelve, she had consumed and
could hold quite animated discourse on classic works, including Mein Kampf,
The Art of War, Cosmos, and dozens of books on hard science and even
psychology.  She was an insatiable reader, going through books at a rate
that kept the local library's `books on loan' program busy most of the
year. She wasn't, however, a straight `A' student, but she could have been.
She participated in few extracurricular activities, though she should have
taken up competitive swimming, my own opinion.  This brings us back to me
standing at the patio door.
   Crystal was just climbing up the steep stairs onto our aboveground
pool's little deck.  I noted distantly, that she needed a new swimsuit. 
The one she was wearing was at least two years old, and was beginning to
look a bit worn.  It was also woefully inadequate to cover her newly
blooming `assets.' At least three inches of butt-crack was to be seen
emerging from the top of the bottoms as she ascended the stairs.  As funny
as that was, I wasn't following her to check out her butt.  I was following
her to watch her swim a bit.  Swimming was Crystal's favorite pastime other
than, maybe reading.  She got to the deck and dropping her towel on the
deck chair jumped and slipped into the water without a splash.  A second
later, she emerged from the water at the far side of the pool, then
immediately plunged back in.
   I had reached the stairs to the deck and climbed up.  Looking down I saw
her bulleting through the water at a speed that never failed to impress me.
For a long time, I thought that she used momentum from the edge of our
admittedly small pool to improve her speed.  But I had taken her to the
college and let her swim at their Olympic-sized pool a few times, and to
challenge her, I had her start from a dead stop in the middle of the pool,
denying her a launch pad.  While it took her an extra moment to build up
speed, she still swam just as fast, managing to pass the college
competition swimmers in the water practicing.  When I finally got a look at
her on a long straight run, I noted that she didn't use her hands much,
mostly to steer, apparently, her feet and even her whole body was acting as
a flexible surface that the water moved over as she swam, like a wing, I
suppose.
   Crystal resurfaced after making two full circuits of the pool.  She
grinned up at me from the water.  She wasn't even winded.  She was treading
water with just her feet now.  The pool went two feet into the ground,
making it six feet deep and far over her head.
   "Are you going to swim with me today?" She asked, a little hope in her
eyes.  It was Friday and I had finished my allotted tasks from work early.
   I looked down at her.  She was like a bundle of live wires.  The girl
had more energy than was even proper.  She would swim like this for an hour
or so, then come inside and do something else, like play that silly `Dance
Dance Revolution' on our livingroom TV for another half hour before even
pretending to be winded.  "I dunno, darling, I don't feel like being smoked
on the water today." I said.
   Most kids her age would have missed the reference, but she was my
daughter, and she knew her rock history.  She got a slightly let down look
for a fleeting moment, then brightened.  Maintaining her place in the water
with just her feet and legs, she mimed an air guitar.  "Duh, duh, duh, dah,
dah, dah, dun, dun, dun." Her voice produced a reasonable facsimile of a
base guitar.
   I laughed, then promised I'd go swimming with her tomorrow.  She nodded,
and seemed to be satisfied.  Her head slipped beneath the water and she
rocketed toward my side of the pool.  This was our `signature' trick.  She
came flying out of the water right in front of me, her entire body clearing
the surface up to her knees.  She curled her legs under herself, and I
grabbed one of her outstretched arms.  I tugged her onto the relative
safety of the deck before she could fall back into the water.  In the
Olympic pool, she could build up enough speed to propel herself completely
out of the water and even onto the walkway around the pool.  It was really
neat, but fantastically wet.  A geyser of water came up with her, drenching
me from head to toe.  I looked down.  My shirt was a sodden mess.  I was
pulling it away from my body and starting to wring it out when I noticed
that my light-blue nylon shorts were now transparent, and I was `commando'
that day.  I looked up, hoping my little girl was looking at my face, and
preferably preparing to laugh.  I had no such luck.  Her eyes were locked
on my now-visible manhood.  I pulled my shirt down, hoping to minimize the
exposure.  She blinked then looked up at me, grinning.
   "Sorry." She giggled insincerely.  This was proven by the immediate
shaking of her head, causing her long hair to spin into a disk, and soaking
me further.  Having completed that particular action, she hugged me, that's
what she had come up for, and then before I could grab her back, she was
leaping form the deck and back into the water.  "If you want to hug me, you
got to be in the water." She said when she resurfaced.
   I shook my head.  "I'll get my hug later." I said.  "We'll have dinner
in about two hours." I turned to head into the house.  As I shut the patio
door, a jet of water she had fired from her mouth hit it's little glass
panes.  I looked at her head, bobbing at the near corner of the pool, still
a good twenty feet away.  "How the hell does she do that?" I said to
myself, and shook my head some more.
   My sodden state left a trail across the hardwood floor of the living
room then up the stairs to the upper level, where our bedrooms, the
bathroom and my office were.  My office was the first door on the right,
and I went into it.  My computer was chirping happily that I had received
some email.  I sat and clicked it open.  It was a missive from our
company's sysop, and my personal best friend, Marcus, he was letting me
know that he was going to be sending me a new chunk of `Superspider.'
   `Superspider' was a piece of smart software.  It would go into the
internet, and search a large number of porn websites.  Off those sites it
would look for movie clips.  Those it would match up, by imbedded coding,
the actual sequence of the segments.  When it was done looking, it would
attach all the little ten second samples into viewable movies.  It would
store any snippets it got, and would display a list of any movies that
managed to go beyond a set minimum time.  Mine was set at three minutes. 
Marcus and I referred to our little porn flicks in terms of how many
`wot's' it rated.  A `wot' was an acronym for Wack Off Time.  The higher
the `wottage' the more times one could use it to stimulate yourself before
growing tired of it.  I know, men are twisted.
   I downloaded and installed the new patch to `Superspider.' Then figured,
what the hell?  Lets fire this bad boy up.  I started it, and `Superspider'
went into search mode.  I got up and went to the window while it did its
magic.  If I stood real close to the wall, I could get an angle that let me
see the pool and the deck.  Crystal was still swimming.  She got to the
middle of the pool and leapt upward like a porpoise, flipping in midair
then back into the water to finish the lap.  Damn, why didn't she compete.
I never saw a swimmer like her in my life, and some of the college
competition swimmers said they hadn't either.
   My computer pinged.  I walked back over and it showed me a bunch of
little thumbnails of what it had found so far.  Sitting, I saw that a few
had promise.  I looked them over, and found one of a nubile teen girl using
a dildo on herself.  I popped it open and sat back.  She filled the screen,
a pretty brunette who couldn't be more than twenty.  As she slid the dildo
over her belly toward her shaved slit, she stared at the camera with light
green eyes.  I found my cock growing hard.  She had a toned body, and long,
muscular legs, obviously a newcomer to the industry, as the old timers were
thin, but rarely toned.  Her ruby lips opened as she shoved the dildo home,
sliding inch after inch of it into herself.  Her moans were quite nice and
pretty reasonable in volume and timing, perhaps this girl was really
enjoying it.  I reached down and pulled the elastic from my waist, and
lifted out my now-swollen cock.  Slowly stroking it up and down its shaft I
watched the pretty girl give it to herself, too.  She was good.  She made
you feel like she was watching you while you watched her.  I decided she
was a good seven `wotter' and figured I'd make sure to point out `Heather,'
as the movie file claimed, to Marcus.
   A few minutes of satisfying stroking and I was completing my current
mission.  I came with a bit of a grunt and managed to wet my shorts a bit
further.  I stood up and made my way to my room quickly and changed shirt
and shorts for a clean, dry pair.  I went back to the computer room and
shut down the `Superspider.' "Nice work Marcus." I said.
   I went to go check on Crystal.  Looking down at the pool and deck again,
now she was on the deck, sunning herself on one of the three deck chairs.
At first I thought she was sleeping.  Then I caught movement.  It didn't
register at first, but then it cracked through daddy's `rose colored
glasses' Crystal was playing with herself.  As I focused on what she was
doing, she was moving her hand under her swimsuit bottoms in a circular
motion, just her fingers sliding around.  She was apparently getting to the
good bit, because now her hips joined in the movement.  She hiked up her
knees and spread her legs a bit more.  I saw her mouth open a bit as she
moved her hand deeper into her bottoms.  The tight cloth was snug before
her hand was in them, and now it was stretched so tight I could count the
fingers under it.  I only counted two.  She slid the missing two fingers
back into view than inside herself again, each time thrusting her pelvis
upward to meet them.  She did this for about thirty seconds, going a little
faster every moment until by the end she was pumping her fingers rapidly.
She was dragging her palm over her upper pelvis and, I assumed, her
clitoris.  Suddenly she arched her back and performed a magician's
levitation trick.  Her body left the deck chair, lifting up and touching
the chair only at her heels and the back of her head.  A muffled scream
filtered through the window.  Had I not been right by it I wouldn't have
heard it.  She held this obviously tense position for about ten seconds
then collapsed to the chair, panting.
   She laid like this a bit then sat up quickly, like she thought of
something.  She peered over her shoulder toward the patio door.  Probably
making sure dad wasn't coming out.  I chuckled.  She unfolded from the deck
chair and slipped back into the water, though her swimming was now
noticeably slower.
   As I turned from the window, I realized I had a serious case of wood
going on in my shorts.  "You twisted little man." I said to my dick. 
"You'll get hard for anything, won't you?"
   He gave no response.
   "Playing it tough, are you?" I said.  "Guess we'll have to beat you into
submission." I declared and went back to the computer.  I decided that I
needed something with a bit more `teeth' than a girl masturbating so I
browsed till I found one of a petite gal being worked over by a couple of
guys.  I clicked it open to watch another pretty and petite brunette being
fucked doggy style by a well-hung steroid-stud.  Near her head knelt
another man, his prong imbedded in her mouth.  As the man in back pounded
his cock into her cunt, she rocked forward and impaled her mouth on the
other man's cock.  "Such efficiency of motion." I commented as my organ
began its build up to discharge.  The man at her mouth pulled his organ
loose and began stroking it.  Her mouth stayed open and her tongue lolled
out.  Soon he was shooting a impressive amount of come on her face, in her
mouth, and even in her hair.  She promptly spit out the semen that had
gotten into her mouth, and then began to suck him some more even though he
was quickly softening.  The man in the back started grunting and pulled
himself out now.  The girl, being the good porn chick spun around and took
his load to the face and mouth.  Again, she spat out what got into her
mouth and then sucked on his pole as it went down.  With a loud grunt, I
began my own little fountain, and it was much more impressive than my first
attempt.  Come managed to get all over my hand, shorts, and even a couple
of long impressive strands landed on my keyboard.
   "Dad, you okay?" I heard Crystal calling from downstairs.
   "Um.  I just stubbed my damn toe." Holy shit, I thought, jumping up.  I
grabbed a couple of tissues from the desk and sopped up the semen from my
shorts and hand, and off my pole.  I managed to slip my bird back into its
nest before Crystal's head slid into view around the frame of the door. 
She was still a little wet from the pool, and had her towel wrapped around
her waste like a skirt.  She removed the towel and tossed it with a jump
shot into the hall hamper near the bathroom door at the far end.  She
walked into my office after that, then froze.
   I looked down quickly to make sure I wasn't showing any obvious come
stains, or an unsightly bulge, all clear.  Then I heard a voice form over
my shoulder say "Take it you slut!" I cringed and turned about.  There was
a middle aged woman with a large black man's tool pumping into her mouth.
He pulled out and shot a massive load of come onto her tongue, which she
pulled into her mouth, then made a big show of swallowing.
   I turned slowly back around, hoping to not see too much shock or disgust
on my daughter's face.  Instead she was smiling.  She looked me in the eye
and said.  "It's okay, dad, I've seen dirty movies before."
   I raised an eyebrow at her.  "You have, have you?" I asked.  Trying to
look stern.
   Crystal would have none of that, though, she saw through my facade. 
"Yep." She said.  "I even have some in my room."
   "Really." I said, trying to put a chill in my voice.
   This gave her a moment's pause.  "Um.  Yeah, a DVD.  I.  I got it from
Sarah before they moved.  I was supposed to give it back to her, but I
guess with them moving so suddenly, it got forgot." She actually had a
twinge of fear on her pretty face.
   "Hmm." I said, thoughtfully.  "I think, maybe, you should go get it and
turn it over, little lady."
   She was still somewhat smiling, but a lot of the cockiness that she had
at the beginning of the conversation was gone.  She turned and walked out,
only to return a few moments later with a jewel case in her hand.  "Here,
please don't be mad."
   "I'm not mad, angel, just don't think this stuff is good for a young
woman your age to be consuming." Then I grinned maliciously.  "Wait till
you're fourteen." and winked at her.  I took the jewel case from her and
put it on my desk.
   Crystal turned to walk out.  "Oh, yeah." I said.  "Go get dressed, we're
going out to McDonald's for dinner, then I thought we might go by the mall.
You need a new bathing suit." I waited for it.
   Her tiny body slammed into my side at some near relativistic velocity
and her arms clenched around my chest.  "The mall!" She squealed.  My
darling was unusual in many ways, but as far as shopping, she was a very
normal adolescent.  "New bathing suit?  Yay!" She cheered into my left ear,
leaving it ringing.  I grinned at this display of exuberance, rather
unusual these days.  Her best friend, Sarah, had moved away about four
months ago, and she's been rather lethargic and depressed since.  She
bounced herself up and down for a few moments, making me bounce with her.
Then she released my chest and arms and bolted from the room.
   I switched off the computer and cleaned up the keyboard from my own
exuberance a bit before.  A few minutes later, she was decked out in a
denim skirt and blouse, with her hair in a pony tail and a pair of those
ridiculous thick-soled shoes on her feet.
  
Crystal - Part 01