Phil's Site

 

Cher ran away from home when she was twelve. I did everything a father was supposed to, called all her friends, prowled the neighborhood looking for her and finally called the police. The dead give away that she ran rather then been abducted was some of her personal possessions were gone too. In twenty-twenty hindsight I knew it was my fault, I was too hard on her. I thought I was doing the right thing. I had to be father, mother, sister and brother to her. I had to protect her from the cruel world. I got one postcard from her, it said, "I am fine. Don't worry about me." I turned it over to the police, but nothing came from the Huntsville, Alabama postmark.

She called a little over a year later. She wanted to come home, but only would do it if I asked no questions. I fully agreed. She was dressed in jeans and flannel shirt as if she just got off the farm and for all I knew, she did. She was taller then I remembered, with a look in her eyes that only belonged in adults weary of the world. I took her to her old room. "You didn't change anything," she said. No, everything right down to the Raggedy Ann dolls were where she left them.

We ate supper in complete silence. I had no idea what to say. After supper she retreated to her room. About an hour later she came and stood in the middle of the living room dressed in one of my old robes that hung almost to the floor on her.

"It didn't take long to find out there is no place for a twelve-year-old to go in this world. I was cold, miserable and hungry when what seemed like a nice man offered me a meal. He talked me into going home with him and I was gullible enough to accept. It was okay for a few days, but then he told me what he expected in return. As least he was nice enough not to demand it, but to ask for it. The first time hurt a lot, but he assured me it would get easier as I got more experience and it did. I was with him about six weeks when I was sent to another man. His expectations of me were the same as the first man, sex for food and shelter. From then on I was moved from man to man every month. There were six men and six young girls. They called it 'the Circle.' I hope you don't think any less of me, but I actually got to like sex. My life was, more or less idyllic. As long as I treated the man to sex he treated me well. That is until they added a seventh man. He was a control freak. Everything had to be done his way or I got beat. He was horrible. Most days he kept me chained to the bed. When I got the chance to run, I did and here I am. I want to show you what happened to me while I was away."

She untied the sash and dropped the robe. She had high, rounded breasts with thick gold rings hanging from deep red nipples. She had a tattoo of a serpent twined up her left leg starting with the tail at the ankle. It disappeared between her legs close to her crotch and reappeared just above her hip. The tattoo curled down with the head of the serpent with its beady eye tattooed on her pubic mound. The opening of her slit acted as the serpent's mouth. Her visible hood had been tattooed to resemble a serpent's forked tongue. At the end of her hood hung another thick gold ring. She turned around and bent forward. The serpent's body rose from between her legs, crossed her taint, disappeared into the valley of her buttocks and came out the top where it turned toward her hip. On each of her ample butt cheeks was a thickly black inked Japanese symbol. "One supposedly means luck and the other fate if you're interested." She turned around and looked down at her sex then looked at me right in the eye. "They had to cut the lips to expose the hood." My stomach churned just at the thought of it.

"Well we can start getting you back to normal by taking off the jewelry."

"No!" She barked it so hard that it made me jump and hold up my hands in surrender. "We will do what ever you say," I said, and thought, as long as you don't leave again.

She sat down right next to me still naked. I wasn't sure what to do - then, Bing! - I realized she wanted my acceptance of her the way she was. I turned and drew her into my arms hugging her tight. I felt her nipple ring push against my chest. She kissed me very tenderly on the cheek. "Thank you daddy," she whispered.

The next morning I was frying eggs when she walked into the kitchen naked. "No clothes?" I asked.

"Don't you like to see me naked? All the men preferred me naked. I usually stayed that way all day."

The problem had always been my intolerance. I had to change if I wanted to keep her home. "I love seeing you however you want to be."

"Then you don't mind if I stay this way?" I wished I knew what kind of answer she was looking for. "Stay however you like." I changed the subject quickly. "You will have to dress later when we go to see the police."

"Do we have to?"

"Yes."

They interrogated her. With Cher being underage I sat in. It was obvious she was being evasive about where she had been and with whom. The cop just shook his head, closed the file, and walked out. The one thing he gave me was a business card for a private school that catered to disturbed children. I wondered if Cher was really disturbed, surely other promiscuous girls were not considered disturbed. On the other hand I could not see her running around in gym shorts with a serpent tattooed up her leg, and at the least her hatred of the last man was disturbing.

Since her old clothes didn't fit her anymore and all she had was the blouse and pants she came home in we went shopping. She was very careful to buy only clothes that covered her tattoos, no skirts. When we got home she was the old pre-runaway Cher and I was glad. I had hopes we could turn back the clock and forget all about her misadventure.

In the morning she again came into the kitchen naked. I said not a word about it, but did try again to talk about the body modifications. "Are you sure you want to keep wearing the rings? I thought maybe we would see a specialist about laser tattoo removal."

"I have no intention of changing what I did. Let me explain, the first six men were extremely nice to me, they fed me and provided shelter. They bought clothes for me. They took me to movies and bought me ice cream sundaes afterward. They treated me better than you ever did." Oooh that stung. "When I got sick they nursed me back to health. These were nice men whose only problem was liking young pussy."

"You were sick?" It was a shock to hear my daughter use the term pussy for genitals, and yet, I used it all the time.

"It was nothing, a bout of the flu, a case of food poisoning. The important part is they were there for me. What do you think a twelve-year-old runaway can do to survive? Prostitution is about the only thing. I heard too many stories of prostitutes being mishandled by their pimps to get into that. When these men that took care of me, these men that I really cared for, suggested at different times to the tattoos and piercings I readily agreed. It's my body and I've got to live with it. I like the way I look. I like the tattoo of the serpent curled around my leg and how the artist sculpted my pussy to make my hood look like the serpent's tongue."

"Okay. Peace. I won't bring it up again. But at the police station, I could understand you wanting to protect the men that treated you well, but what about the last man that kept you chained to your bed. Why didn't you tell the cops about him?"

"It was like a club, all the men knew each other. I was afraid if I told the cop about the last guy they would all eventually get arrested. Dad, I am home. Please accept it and don't pursue it."

No, I wanted to pursue it. I wanted to find the guy that carved up my daughter's pussy, eviscerate his genitals and make him eat it. That is the kind of guy I am, or hopefully was. I had to somehow turn into Mr. Nice Guy for Cher's sake. Forgive and forget, that was my new motto.

Cher stayed naked the rest of the day. I was sure she was testing me and I refused to fail. I was determined to be tolerant. I am not made of stone and there were times I was sexually attracted to her, times that my cock began to harden in my pants as I gazed at her, but despite those times, by the end of the day I congratulated myself for not giving into my baser instincts.

Monday morning Cher was again walking around naked. I ignored her. I called work, told my boss about the good news of Cher being back home and asked for a few days off. He told me to take all the time I needed. Next I called the school the cop told me about and made arrangements to talk to a counselor. I made an appointment for that afternoon.

The counselor was in her fifties and wore reading glasses on the end of her nose. Her name was Margaret. She took Cher to another room and when she came back a half hour later it was without Cher. Then we talked. I told her everything that was going on since Cher returned. Margaret told me what I already knew. Cher ran away because I was way too strict. She didn't call me anal, but certainly implied it. She told me that Cher had learned to use sex for favors. "Mr. Bradley, now we come to the hard part," she said. "You have to become way more tolerant of your daughter. We have to wean her off using sex to get her way. Unfortunately, if we try to stop her cold turkey she is bound to rebel. I am not saying you should go to extremes with her; just let her win sometimes. You mentioned she refuses to dress, that is pretty harmless; let her do it for now. Yours is a fine line to walk and I don't envy you. You are going to have to decide when too far is too far. I will only guarantee you that if you go back to your old ways she will run again. Are we in agreement?"

Cher started school the following day. I drove her there in the morning and a school bus dropped her off after school. She was a latch-key kid until I got home. When I arrived at five-thirty I found her naked in the kitchen preparing supper and humming a tune. "When did you learn to cook?" I asked. "The men taught me." she replied. After supper she did the dishes without me having to order her, which was a welcome change. I thought that perhaps her sojourn did her some good. When she was finished she sat right next to me. I instinctively knew she wanted attention, so I put my arm around her and she leaned into me. We watched TV like that for the rest of the night and just about every night.

Saturday morning I heard my name being called muffled by the bathroom door so I stuck my head inside. She was standing in the shower with the curtain pushed open and water pelting down from the shower head. "Join me," she said. She must have seen the appalled look on my face. "I have seen seven men naked and they all look pretty much alike. I don't think you are any different. Beside all the men enjoyed washing me."

I asked myself a simple two word question, "Too far?" and the answer was, not really. I undressed and by the time I was stepping in the shower my cock was half hard. By the time I had washed her down to her breasts I had a full erection. Luckily, she ignored it other than looking at it and smiling. "Do you like the color of my nipples?" she asked, "I had them tattooed like that." Yes, up close I could see how the aureoles had been colored a deep red while leaving the nipple centers its normal pink. I sat on the edge of the tub and carefully washed her legs and her sex. I could see the scars left by the butcher's handiwork on her nether lips. I had a close look at the hood and how it was tattooed to make it look forked like a serpent's tongue. The end of her hood bulged out lower than the lips and that was what they had pierced for the gold ring. Scrubbing her backside was just as enlightening and perhaps as stomach curdling. The tattoo of the serpent crossed from leg to crotch and up the center of the valley of her buttocks going right across her anus. I could not image how much pain she must have gone through.

We dried ourselves and I reached for my clothes. She put her hand on my arm. "Humor me. Go without." I thought about it. She saw me when I was at three inches and when I was at six. There really wasn't anything left to hide. "Okay." I spent the morning feeling guilt about walking around the house naked. I spent the afternoon feeling guilty about enjoying walking around the house naked. That night we sat side by side with my arm around her. She put her hand on my thigh two inches below my genitals. I judged that to be a safe distance. There was no cause for alarm.

When I awoke the next morning I was sure I was still dreaming. Dreaming of when my wife was alive and we were living together. Dreaming of waking and having her in my arms with her warm body pressed against mine. Reality interrupted when I realized the warm body pressed against me was Cher. My cock was erect and pressing against her buttocks. I had, in my joy of spending the day naked, decided to spend the night naked too. It took all my will power not to yell at her. I grit my teeth so tight my jaw hurt. When I thought I had myself under control I asked, "Cher, what are you doing in my bed?"

"I was lonely by myself. I am used to sleeping with a man. I have been doing it for the past year. Why are you upset? We didn't do anything." She was right, but the situation came awfully close to "too far."

We fell into a routine of sorts, we went naked together, we took showers together, we slept spooned together and watch TV with her in my arms. Her fingers came dangerously close to my genitals, but never actually touched it. Wordlessly a line had been drawn between us and neither one crossed, not for lack of wanting to I am sure - by either one of us. We touched each other, but never with the intent to arouse.

Thursday after work was our traditional supermarket shopping night. That Thursday as we were moving down the aisles Cher said, "Look, Charlotte and her daddy." The girl was about Cher's age, a little taller and thinner than Cher. Her bright blond hair hung down to her shoulders in dozens of thin braids. Who ever did it had to have the patience of Job. I put the dad's age about the same as mine, late thirties. Later Cher told me Charlotte was eleven.

"Is she in your class at school?"

"No, they were in the circle." It took me a moment to remember what she meant by "the circle." The two girls ran toward one another and hugged in the middle of the aisle. Us men finally caught up to them and the girls made introductions. His name was Bill Flagger. It was awkward, to say the least, and we let the girls do the talking. Charlotte asked, "Daddy, can we invite Cher over to play?"

"Well, I guess so." We decided the following Sunday afternoon would be the best. It was a thirty minute drive due west through three adjoining towns to their house. I could not believe she ran less than fifteen miles away. The Alabama post mark had been a ruse, as the police had suspected.

After we got there the girls went to Charlotte's room to play while Bill and I talked about our jobs, always a safe subject. I couldn't very well ask what it was like to be screwing young girls, although that was exactly what I wanted to know. Later the girls came out of the room jaybird naked. Charlotte asked her dad if they could have a snack. "First bring Mr. Bradley another beer and a glass of wine for me. As they talked I noticed Bill's hand petting Charlotte’s behind. When he finished his fingers slid into the valley of her buttocks and he gave the cheek a squeeze. "Go on, now." he said with a slap to her butt. I could swear she stood and waited for it. She went off with a grin on her face and a bright pink spot on her rump. I thought about how close Cher always stood next to me when we talked and I wondered if she expected the same treatment.

Charlotte and Cher brought back the drinks for us. Bill said to Charlotte, "That's a good girl," and patted her butt. The two girls charged back to the kitchen and when they returned they sat on the floor with a bowl of popcorn between them and each had a Coke.

"That's some serpent tattoo your girl has got. Charlotte has been pestering me to get one too."

The tattoos were a taboo subject between Cher and me, and with her sitting right there I didn't want to give my honest opinion. "I am still trying to decide if I like it."

"Why not, it is a work of art by Hash Brown."

Showing my stupidity I asked, "Who's Hash Brown?" Other than a potato.

"Actually Hester Brown, but he goes by Hash. He is one of the top tattoo artists in the U.S. The cost of the serpent tattoo ran $10,000. It is well known. Here let me show you." He got up, left the room and a minute later return with a book entitled, "Tattoos, Foreign and Domestic". He thumbed through the book until he came to the page he wanted. There were three full color glossies of the serpent tattoo on Cher, front, left side and back from her waist down to her ankles. Nothing even came close to hinting that she was twelve at the time or who she was, The Japanese symbols either came later or they were airbrushed out. There was a side blurb, not saying a thing about Cher, except that the subject had flawless skin. It mentioned Hash Brown's research into how the pattern on the serpent changes in relationship to the twists and turns of its body. It also mentioned how the serpent's mouth had been professionally carved into the subject's labiates. I supposed a high-class book like that couldn't just say pussy lips.

So my daughter was a walking piece of art. I wasn't sure if that changed the way I felt about the tattoos or not.

I think Bill thought that I had the same relationship with Cher as he had with Charlotte. He hinted rather clearly that he would be open to an exchange of girls over a weekend. I mentioned that to Cher on the way home. "I won't mind, would you?" was her response.

"Would I?" plagued me for days afterward. The law was frightening clear about the penalties for having sex with minors. But, and it was a big but, both girls turned me on. That was quite clear when I walked around the house with a hard-on. I also had an extremely strong curiosity what it would be like to have sex with a girl so young. Another thing, if I had sex with Charlotte it wouldn't be like I was engaged in incest with my own daughter. The last and probably deciding factor, I truly believed Cher would love to spend the weekend having sex with Bill. When I told Cher my decision I saw a definite brightening in her eyes. She said, "Thank you, daddy," as if I were doing it for her and she gave me a tight hug. I called Bill and arranged for the exchange two weeks down the road giving me time to cancel if I had a change of heart.

That same day I started petting and squeezing Cher's butt when I talked to her. I saw she actually waited for the slap before moving away from me.

Was trading Cher for sex 'too far?' well definitely it was borderline. I appeased myself with the thought that the counselor said she should be eased out of her old way of life, so, in effect, I was helping her ease.

Charlotte had small, just-forming breasts high and widely spaced on her chest. Her aureola were colored a delicate pink with a blue fringe around the outer edge. The nipple centers were no bigger than and the color of small blanched peanuts. She was lean enough for me to be able to count her ribs. Her stomach was flat with an oblong innie and her abdomen flowed down between her legs without any sign of a pubic mound. The edges of her slit fit so closely together that it looked like the opening was drawn on with a pencil. Her legs rose smoothly up and curved into the small of her back with just a small bulge for her buttocks. Her porcelain skin was creamy smooth without any scars or moles. She could well have been the perfect model for an anatomically correct doll.

"What do you like best about sex?" I asked.

"Everything"

"No, there has to be something you like better than anything else."

"Well...I like my pussy licked."

"Okay, lie down on the bed and spread your legs."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." She jumped on the bed with a big grin on her face, laid down and spread her legs as far as they could go. I rolled on a condom and crawled up the bed between her legs. I tipped her butt up and pushed her lips open with my thumbs. Her hood was narrow and the inner lips were two ribbons. The clitoris got to me, it looked like the head of a red earthworm and I almost expected it to wiggle. I started licking away. She took my head in her hands and, more or less, directed me where she wanted to be licked, mostly on her clit. After a while her hips started to move and push into my face. I licked even faster. I listened to the sound of her breathing grow shorter and faster. She started making noises as if she had a hard time breathing, then she said in a wavering voice: "Now, please, now." and I knew what she meant. I slid up her body until my cock made contact with her vagina; it was pulsating as it entered her warm, wet tunnel. I thought I could hold off until she came, but that was impossible, I had been teasing it with the games I had been playing with Cher for too long and I felt like my cock exploded.

I lay there panting and saying over and over, "I'm sorry."

She combed my hair with her fingers and said, "Don't fret; next time will be my turn."

She was right, by evening I was ready again, but not as horny. I made sure she had a climax. I fingered her little red worm as I pumped my cock in her vagina. Afterward she told me how good I was. It may have been bullshit, but I loved hearing it. I wished she could have stayed longer. The weekend seemed to fly by way too fast. Sunday evening Bill brought Cher back and picked up Charlotte.

Cher and I were as happy as two kids on Christmas morning. That evening as we watched TV with her cuddled in my arms she fingered my cock. It stood at attention and I never said a word. I was sure it would not have met with Margaret's approval and I didn't care.

Instead of satisfying my curiosity about having sex with a young girl Charlotte's performance aroused it even more. I called up Bill and asked for another weekend.

Seeing Charlotte naked again released all my inhibitions. I was the kid in the candy store with my allowance burning a hole in my pocket. We played, we wrestled, and we slapped each others bottoms, hard as if we meant it. We laughed and sang and danced. One would have thought I was on drugs. I was pretty high and so was she but it wasn't induced by pharmaceuticals. I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard or acted so silly. I didn't want it to stop. I was worried that if I hit a climax I would get all adult and serious.

We started out with a spray can of whipped cream and coated and licked one another. I kissed her small buttocks, filled the valley with whipped cream and licked it out down to her anus. By the time we got to the intercourse part both we and the bed were sticky with whipped cream. We didn't care, we were having fun.

A week later Bill and Charlotte visited us. "I hear you had a ball with my daughter," he said after we were settled in.

"I have to admit that the last two times she has been over have been the best in my life."

"I talked it over with the other men. How would you two like to join our circle?" he asked. "There are six men and the girls range in age from ten to sixteen. Once a month we meet and the girls are rotated on a planned basis so every month you get a new girl until the rotation starts all over again.

"It sounds interesting, but do you know why Cher came back to me?"

"Yes and that was an unfortunate situation which has been rectified. The man in question is no longer in our circle."

"In that case I see no reason why we shouldn't join. Cher really enjoyed it otherwise."

"Good, the men miss Cher and I am sure you will fit right in."

That night Cher and I were in bed fooling around. We were doing what I called, washing my cock in pussy juice. I was lying on my back with my cock flat against my stomach. Cher was sitting astride me with her pussy on top of my cock. She was slowly sliding back and forth. Because of her gold ring she could only use the back half of her open pussy to 'scrub' my cock. I blamed what happen next on the fact that Cher was leaning farther over then usual and sliding back at the same time. Quite suddenly the head of my cock was in my little girl's vagina. "Oops, what do we do now?" she asked as she sat up allowing my cock to slide all the way in. My first impulse was to jerk myself out of her, but what was done was done and we couldn't very well say it didn't happen. Anyway, her tender flesh felt great wrapped around my erection.

"I guess we are going to have to learn to live with it."

She smiled a great big smile. "I guess so," she said. Ever so slowly she moved up and down my shaft teasing the hell out of me. "In that tattoo book Mr. Flagger showed you there is a picture of a man whose cock and sack are completely tattooed. He has a Prince Albert piercing the head. Would you do that for me?"

"Yes I would." God she was sliding up and down so slow she was driving me crazy.

"You're not just saying that to make me happy."

"No, dear. I'll have it done as soon as possible. As long as you promise never to run away again."

"If you do that for me and if we stay in the circle I promise never to leave you again. Tomorrow you have to shave your crotch. He can't tattoo over hair."

"Tomorrow for sure."

"I love you daddy."

"I love you to princess, more than you'll ever know. Now do me a favor, move faster."

"Sure daddy, for you anything. Now you won't forget what you promised."

"I won't forget." She moved faster and I hit such a violent climax I nearly threw her off. She laughed, oh how she laughed.

Did I go "too far?" Definitely. That was why I called the school the next morning and told Margaret that Cher wouldn't be attending any longer. Then I called Hash Brown for an appointment.

Story edited by James

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