MERRILL, CASTLE & GRAY (uk)                       Adult Books On The Internet          A  non-profit making organisation.    Subscriptions  and          purchases  only finance and maintain our FREE  and  ever                           increasing archive.                  Completely  free  and  currently  containing  some  7000          stories,  the  GENERAL SECTION of our  Archive  aims  to          gather together the best of erotic material available.                   To have "ELECTRA MAGAZINE" delivered on a regular basis,          ensuring  all Subscribers are over the age of 18  years,          upon receipt of credit card details, (or other  evidence          of  age) the first TWO issues are FREE.  Forward  Credit          Card no. etc. or other verification to:                        `sub-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'         for  further details.   Perfected over months, a  `safe'          monetary transaction.         Three    consecutive   months   subscription    entitles          Subscribers  to  access  to `The  Zoo'  section  of  the          Archive.         Through  freely  obtaining unpublished sections  of  our          publications, subscription charges are recovered  within          six months.           Save   for   hitherto  unpublished   sections   of   our          publications,   copies  of  all  stories  and   articles          contained in "ELECTRA MAGAZINE"  can be freely  obtained          by list-server.         Mail  `list-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'  for  an  up-to-date          list.         +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+                               EDITORIAL                               ~~~~~~~~~           Granted  the  current problems with  pedophiles  being          experienced  in  Belgium and  the  conference  regarding          child-prostitution  recently  taking  place  in  Sweden,          Governments  are attempting to radically alter  outlooks          and  attitudes  on  all sorts of sexual  practice  on  a          world-wide  scale.    Whilst this  will  obviously  make          itself  felt in the months and years ahead,  because  of          all  the regional variations of law and practice on  the          subject  of tolerance of sex, whilst rewarding  for  the          individual  politician  or  institution,  inception   of          suppressive  change is likely to prove an  embarrassment          for concerted, organised and co-ordinated assault.           By the very nature of the Internet, interpretation  by          various  servers  of what is legal,  moral  and  ethical          clashes frequently with the mandate of such governments,          and  it  is our opinion that, given  time,  apathy  will          return and things will carry on as normal.           Hideous  though  the thought may  be,  an  interrupted          freedom  of  speech and expression is likely to  be  the          outcome in the short-term and for that matter, a  lively          discussion  will replace the displaying of binaries  and          many stories on newsgroups.           Albeit  that the intention of authority is  right  and          noble, its attitude of persecution will do untold damage          and cause great hindrance to its own operations, and  in          the  meantime,  we  will continue  to  publish  "ELECTRA          MAGAZINE"   magazine and our archive -  although  behind          schedule - will open during the Autumn months.           We trust you will make use of it.            Merrill Castle and Gray           September 1996         +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+                    Each  month,  we publish one or two stories  from  our          Archive.    Whilst we hope you will enjoy it, as it  can          involve  any sex-related matter, we cannot guarantee  it          will be to your liking or taste.           Therefore, we give a formal disclaimer:           THE  FOLLOWING MATERIAL CONTAINS DESCRIPTIONS OF  SEX-         RELATED TOPICS.   DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU ARE PREPARED TO          BE OFFENDED OR SHOCKED.             MERRILL, CASTLE AND GRAY (UK) ACCEPT NO RESPONSIBILITY          WHATSOEVER FOR ANY EFFECT WHICH THE STORY MAY HAVE.           DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18 YEARS OF          AGE.         +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+                             "VOLUNTEER"                                Anon                                 ~~~~           Men often complain that their wives aren't  interested          in sex, but my husband doesn't complain at all- I'm  the          one with the complaint!            From early morning to late at night, my husband  works          as  a heavy equipment salesman. He makes tons of  money,          but he never makes love to me except for a  half-hearted          effort on some weekends.            What's  even  worse,  when he gets home  at  night  he          usually falls asleep on the couch. We never see a movie,          go out to dinner, or even just go to the mall to get out          of  the  house. Yes, if it wasn't for the fact  that  he          gives me and the kids all the money we need, life  would          be unbearable.            The  worst thing, though, is that I really  loved  him          before he began to think of nothing but work. I still do          love him, and that's why for 15 years I never thought of          cheating on him.            I always thought everything would be all right if he'd          just   think  of  me  sometimes  instead  of  how   many          bulldozers  he  can sell to the big  account  in  Idaho!          Anyway,  when I told him I was getting bored and  needed          something  to do during the day (he doesn't want  me  to          work;  he  says he makes more money than we  could  ever          spend,  and he might be right!), he said "Why don't  you          go  volunteer to work at the hospital. That should  keep          you busy!"            Although I don't like the sight of blood, I  responded          to  an ad in the paper looking for hospital  volunteers.          As I was given a tour of the hospital, the volunteer co-         ordinator  explained  that I would  basically  help  the          nurses--make sure ice water bottles in rooms are filled,          maybe  push  a  patient  around  in  a  wheelchair,  get          newspapers for the patients, and so on. It didn't  sound          too difficult, so I told them I would begin on Monday.            Since I'm just 36, I was easily the youngest volunteer          in  the hospital. Most of the daytime help consisted  of          retired  gents,  or  elderly widows  after  the  retired          gents.  Still, everyone pitched in and  made  themselves          useful.  After  the first week, I was finding  the  work          very  rewarding  and I looked forward  to  my  four-hour          shift  three days a week! I was still frustrated  by  my          husband's  lack  of attention, but  the  volunteer  work          provided  some  outlet  and  relief  from  my   physical          cravings for sex.           After  about  three weeks on the job, the  head  nurse          assigned me the job of filling up the ice water  bottles          in  each  room.  The wing I was working  on  was  mostly          orthopaedic  patients.  It  wasn't  very  crowded,   and          several of the rooms only had one patient in them. As  I          pushed  my  cart along, I reached the last room  in  the          corridor,  took  a  bottle  off  the  car  and   breezed          unannounced  into a room. I didn't think before  pushing          aside  the privacy curtains around the bed, and  I  soon          learned  why  they  were closed! The  patient,  a  good-         looking  male around my age, was sitting up in  the  bed          masturbating  himself  while looking at  a  pornographic          magazine! While my sudden entrance briefly startled him,          his reaction startled me.            "Well,"  he said, "did you come to just watch, or  did          you  want  to  give me a hand!"  I  then  realized  that          instead  of putting the ice bottle down and  leaving,  I          had just stood there staring at his huge prick. Maybe it          was because I hadn't seen an erect cock at home in a few          weeks,  or  maybe I was just in shock  at  finding  this          patient  jerking  himself off. Whatever  the  reason,  I          finally responded by blushing, mumbling "excuse me," and          rushing out of the room.            Soon  it was time to go home, but that night  I  could          hardly sleep. And, when I did, all I did was dream about          that  man holding his huge cock and pumping his hand  up          and  down the shaft. I soon woke up and, with  fantasies          of  that big cock floating through my head, I  began  to          caress  my clit with my fingers, moving slowly  until  I          felt a wetness between my legs. My clit was now  swollen          and  responding  to the least bit of pressure, so  as  I          rubbed it around and round, I inserted two fingers  into          my cunt. Imagining they were the patient's huge cock,  I          felt  my body began to respond. But, I knew  my  fingers          were no match for his huge prick. I began to rub my clit          and cunt faster and faster, and a quickening arose in my          twat.  Faster  and faster I moved my hands, but  my  own          hands could not provide the satisfaction I needed!                       Reaching  over  I tried to arouse my  husband,  and  I          started rubbing my hands up and down his flaccid  shaft.          But, there was no response, either from him, or his limp          prick. He was deep in sleep, probably dreaming about the          fuel-saving benefits of a 18,000 horsepower diesel earth          mover!  It was no use! I rolled over, and with my  juicy          cunt longing for a good fucking, cried myself to sleep.            The next day was Tuesday, and because I didn't have  a          shift  at  the hospital until Wednesday, I went  to  the          hairdresser, got my nails done, bought some make-up, and          finished my food shopping. Oddly enough, I didn't  think          about the patient, or his huge cock, all day or night. I          didn't even think about him when I reported for duty the          next  day!  But, it wasn't long before  I  was  thinking          about him. When the nurse told me to take the  newspaper          down to Room 101, I felt my heart jump.            As I walked down the hall with the paper in my hand, I          didn't  know if the lump in my throat was from  fear  or          anticipation.  It wasn't long before I found  out!  This          time,  I knocked at the door and heard the man say  come          in. His privacy curtains were open, so I mustered up  my          courage  and  walked over to the bed and  held  out  the          paper  to him. He just sat there and smiled, and it  was          almost  like  he was reading my mind.  "Please  put  the          paper on the table," he said. "I'll read it later."            I  was  just getting ready to turn and leave,  when  I          heard  him  push  the switch  that  closes  the  privacy          curtains.  As  the curtains closed around  us,  he  said          "There's something I want you to see."            With that, he pulled the waistband of his pajamas down          to  reveal his huge cock. I realized then that I  wanted          to  see  it as much as he wanted me to see  it.  It  was          beautiful,  and he must have seen my appreciation of  it          in my face. "Would you like to hold it?" he asked.            Instead  of  answering, I reached over  and  took  his          organ in my hand. As I began to move my hand up and down          the  shaft, I could see and feel it gorging with  blood,          growing longer and thicker with each caress of my  hand.          "That's  nice," he said. "Your hands feel much nicer  on          my cock than my own hands.            Pump a little faster if you want to!"            My  hand  started sliding up and down his shaft  in  a          fast rhythm, but I soon realized his prick was too  much          for  one  hand. One hand grabbed the base of  his  cock,          while the other massaged the meaty head of his shaft. He          started to move his hips in tandem with my grasps  along          the  length of his shaft, and soon I saw the  glistening          of  semen  that dribbles out when excitement  starts  to          build.            Having been without sex for several weeks, I  couldn't          control  myself  any  longer. Leaning over  the  bed,  I          sucked his cock deep into my mouth, and began to run  my          mouth  up and down the shaft so that his tip  must  have          went halfway down my throat. It was only seconds  before          I felt his hot cum squirting in torrents down my throat,          into  my  mouth,  and dribbling out onto  my  cheeks.  I          sucked and sucked on his prick until every last drop  of          cum  was gone. As I did, I felt my juices dripping  down          my  thighs  as a wave of satisfaction swept  through  my          body.            Suddenly,  we  heard steps in the hallway,  and  as  I          quickly  composed  myself, he covered  himself  up  like          nothing happened. A few seconds later the nurse came  in          and sent me on some errands.            When  I came back to work on Friday, the patient  with          the  big cock was gone. I never saw him again, but  from          that day on my sex life got better and better. You  see,          the  nurse  wasn't coming down to the room that  day  to          send me on an errand. She had been blowing the guy  ever          since he was in the hospital (I don't think anything was          wrong  with  him---he  just liked to spend  a  few  days          getting sucked!), and he told her I gave head almost  as          good as the head nurse!            Well,  she  spread the word around the  hospital,  and          soon  I  was  spreading my legs, my  cunt,  my  ass  and          everything  else  for doctors, interns,  orderlies!  You          name  it, I fucked it! It's a little easier  putting  up          with my husband's lack of interest in sex now. I get all          the  money I want at home, and all the sex (and more)  I          need at the hospital.            And,  just yesterday the staff named me "Volunteer  of          the Year!"          +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+                    JULIA'S 10 MOST ASKED QUESTIONS                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~           (`Julia' (not her real name) is the sister whose story          is  related  in  `Consequences'.    The  mother  of  her          brother's  Tom's two children, Shonagh and William,  for          some  time,  she  had  assisted in  the  writing  of  an          syndicated  `agony' column for a well- known  syndicated          newspaper group.   Here, exploding a number of paradigms          and misconceptions as she goes, she replies to an often-         asked  question:  `in  incest, what  are  the  ten  most          prevalent questions?')                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~         Why do people do it?           I'd don't know about everyone else, but as far as I am            concerned,  it was for the same reason as  ever  other            woman  wants to live with a man.    Without  realising            it,  I  fell in love with my brother at a  very  early            age, and how it grew out of that is a very long story,            but  suffice it to say that by the age of 24,  because            of   a   sudden  shift  in  my   matrimonial   status,            circumstances  threw  us together. Obviously,  it  had            been  laying  under  the surface all  that  time,  and            `bang!' everything happened in about five minutes.           No   matter   who   is   involved;    father/daughter,            mother/son,  sister/brother, the thing everyone  seems            happy to forget is that in incest, `love' is  involved            in  it  somewhere!   The sooner people  take  that  on            board and stop trying to legislate for other  people's            emotions, the quicker all the subsidiary problems will            be resolved.         What are the risks to progeny?           Genetics  are more a question for medical people,  but            for  `first-generation'  children from incest,  it  is            much  less  riskier  than  people  generally  believe.              Elsewhere  in  the animal world, incest  is  part  and            parcel  of  the  natural life-cycle  and  deformed  or            otherwise deprived off-spring are very rare.           A  bigger  risk  to incestuous progeny  is  that  they            usually  get spoilt to death.   Except in cases  where            sexual attention has been forced on a relative  (which            has everything to do with rape and nothing to do  with            incest), in the majority of cases, children are  borne            through  loving conception; if they  weren't  `special            children' before, after birth, they certainly are, and            it  is very difficult for the parents not to  enshrine            the  children  as virtual `living-gods'.    Keeping  a            sense  of  perspective and raising  them  as  `normal'            children can be very difficult.   There are a thousand            reasons for it, which would fill many books, time  and            again.         When you found you were pregnant, what did you do?           Personally, I jumped for joy.   I'd been wanting Tom's            baby  for a couple of years, it is just one  of  those            `loving'  things which, because of  our  relationship,            was probably very much stronger in me than other women            in  `normal' relationships.   When the  pregnancy  was            confirmed,  I realised I'd been wanting it  since  the            age of puberty, so all told I was very happy.           Initially,  there  often were times  when  the  little            insidious voice of doubt got to me, and to Tom, but we            supported  each  other and with some  positive  mental            effort,  were able to push the problems to  one  side.              In  the  event, both children were  perfectly  normal,            (except  they  are much  more  mentally-brighter  than            their parents, but we do not know whether that is just            evolution or because they are the results of incest).         Have you no shame?           To  people who ask this, I always feel  like  bursting            out  laughing!   My `husband' is extremely  happy,  as            are our children; we live a very honest life together,            there are no secrets and we have never lied, misled or            deceived each other in any way at all.              Within  my  sphere of influence, my son  is  extremely            confident, calm, a natural gentleman who treats  other            people (particularly women) with respect, and who  has            learnt the virtues of loving, and - we think - has got            his priorities in the right order, i.e. is exactly how            most other people would be happy to see their children            develop.   In all areas of his life, including sexual,            exactly  the same as any other parent, I have done  my            absolute  best for his happiness in the short,  medium            and  kong-term future, and although  through  people's            questions,  I often think about it, I'm sorry,  but  I            have  absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.   But by  a            similar token, should I have fallen short of doing  my            best for him by denying him something which was in  my            power  to give, including myself and my body,  I  most            certainly would feel ashamed.         What trauma is caused to the children?           By  dictionary  definition, `trauma' means  injury  by            shock,  and in that context, we'd defy anyone  to  see            where  our  children have ever  been  `shocked'.    As            doors   have  opened  to  them  in  life,   with   our            encouragement,  they  have gone  through  those  doors            which have appealed to them.   That on the other  side            of  the door lay an emotional and  physical  love-life            involving  their  relatives is a  `by-the-way'  thing;            there  are many more events in day-to-day  life  which            cause  untold harm and trauma, but people very  rarely            become concerned about that.   Tom and I consider  the            art  of  the  exercise lays in  letting  things  occur            naturally  to children as they go through life; it  is            only  when the `shock', `horror',  `tragedy'  syndrome            comes  into people's lives that they  become  shocked,            horrified and tragic.           If  there  was any `trauma' involved,  in  my  earlier            life, it came about by my desperately trying to  force            myself away from what was, to me, a very natural  path            of loving my family members!           What  we  are talking about, I  suppose,  is  teaching            children  how  to  cope  calmly  and  not  only   with            `ordinary life', our children were also taught how  to            cope  with sex, their bodies and those of  the  people            around them.            At what age did you become involved in incest?           Theoretically,  when I was 24 and Tom was 26,  but  it            actually  started  when I was 4 and he was  6.    From            unwitting  actions and the social environment  of  the            time,  fuel  was very gradually added  to  the  flames            until  one day, as I said, circumstances  changed  and            within  us both was a raging, forest fire.   But  from            the  tiniest  events,  it was like  a  chain  reaction            spread  over  the  next  twenty  years.    `For  every            action,  there  is an equal  and  opposite  reaction',             which is why we called our story `Consequences!'          How did you become involved?           People  have hypothesised that it was  through  child-           curiosity, which seems to be a `knee-jerk' answer  for            things they are happy children cannot experience,  but            I  remember the day in the most intimate detail,  even            to  how I felt.   Probably because I was too young  to            have  attracted  the sophistication  and  cynicism  of            adulthood,  when  it  was  happening  to  me,  I  felt            completely  innocent,  extremely happy and  loved  the            person  who  was doing it to me very, very  much.    A            bond  formed, and being the character he is, he  never            naturally did the things people do to each other which            destroys  the  bond; if anything  over  the  following            years,  by and large, everything he did added  to  it.             That he was my brother was just one of those things.            When  it  came to making love to him and  living  with            him, I certainly experienced no hang-ups; what we  had            for each other burnt away any other consideration.         Did your parents ever find out?           As  we  relate in our story, although  Mum  was  never            officially  told - in our family, we  never  discussed            ANYTHING - we believe she eventually guessed.   To the            day  he  died, Dad never caught on,  it  would  simply            never have occurred to him.          When  it comes to loving your son, how do you deal  with          the guilt?           The  short  answer is, what guilt?   We are  open  and            honest  together, we do everything to keep each  other            happy, we put effort into each other's lives, so where            can guilt come from?   I'd feel guilty if any of those            things were missing, not because they are there!         If your `husband' ever left you, what would you do?           This  always  implies that because of  our  `illegal',            `immoral'  life-style,  I have a `hold' over  him,  or            would   feel  differently  to  any  other  woman.    A            difficult  question to answer, it seems  well  outside            the  province of our life-style and into the world  of            any loving-relationship.           If  any  person is well-loved, well-wanted  and  well-           needed,  and  their love-life is happy,  they  do  not            wander away.   If Tom REALLY wanted `out', then I love            him  enough  to want him to be free, even of  me,  but            really,  granted the state of his home-life,  I  don't            think  such a proposition ever crosses anyone's  mind.              With  two very-loving `wives', a young  grand-daughter            and  freedom to do as you wish, whenever  you  wished,            would YOU leave?         (To  obtain  a free copy of the first parts  of  Julia's          life-story with her brother, `Tom', email:                      `CQ1-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'         One of our "Case-Book" series.         +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+                       "ELECTRA AND HER DAUGHTERS"                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~           Both Doctors of Philosophy,, the verified work of  two          American   researchers,  `Electra  And  Her   Daughters'          relates  11  true accounts of  incestuous  relationships          started  and  maintained by the female  of  the  specie.            The  distaff  side  of the Oedipus Complex,  a  term  in          psychiatry,  `Electra'  was  a  Greek  goddess  desiring          sexual-relations  with her father.   Taken from  written          accounts   supplied   by  the   person   involved,   the          authenticity  of  which  has been  verified  as  far  as          possible, the following is the story of:              Edward: "A daughter ought to be a comfort..."             [When  we  began our search for participants  in  non-         traumatic  incestuous  relationships,  our  expectations          were if we received any responses at all, they would  be          from  women.     At least physically,  whilst  most  men          would  undoubtedly  enjoy such a relationship,  we  were          almost  totally  certain they would not respond  to  our          appeal,  either because their consciences would not  let          them  and/or because they were sure in their  own  minds          their  partners in incest did not share their  feelings.          So, the following letter from `Edward' came as  somewhat          of a surprise to us, as anticipated by its writer. FB.]            Dear Dr. VB:            I  imagine  that you will be surprised to  be  hearing          from  a  man;  everything  I  have  read  lately   about          incestuous  relations between fathers and daughters  has          been  written  by  women, for whom  the  experience  was          traumatic. No doubt their fathers did not find what they          were  doing traumatic, or they would not have  done  it,          but you won't be getting any letters from them! But, let          me introduce myself:            I  am forty years old, an attorney - who  should  (and          does) know what he is doing is against the law.           An  avid tennis player, I am physically very fit.    I          have  also been called handsome but however, my wife  of          eighteen  years  apparently  didn't  find  me   handsome          enough,  because  she left me a little over a year  ago,          running  off with my partner, Richard, and most  of  the          negotiables,   leaving  me  with  our   fifteen-year-old          daughter, Roberta.            Needless to say, `Bobbie,' as everyone calls her,  and          I  were  devastated  by my  wife's  abandonment  of  her          family,  and  even moreso by the discovery  that  before          leaving  town,  she  had `slept  around'  with,  I  must          assume, her `favourite' corespondent.            For  the first few months after my  wife's  departure,          I'm afraid I wasn't a very good father to our daughter -          as  though  I am, now! At any rate, I did not  take  the          interest a parent should in the life of a teenage  girl.          In other words, my supervision of her was quite cursory.           Of  course,  I knew she was dating, but so long  as  her          dates were from `our set', I didn't object.            Then, late one Sunday afternoon, Bobbie came home from          a  supervised swimming party at a boy's house  and  went          straight  to  her room. She was wearing a  long,  floppy          sweat-shirt  which came down barely far enough to  cover            her well-rounded bottom. There was something I  wanted            to  ask her, so I rose from where I had been  watching            TV and followed her.            Although  I always knocked before entering  her  room,          since  it had hardly been more than five  seconds  since          she  had entered it, that day I opened her door  without          knocking and walked in a step or so.            Bobbie is sixteen years old, about five foot three and          a  hundred and five pounds.   With  medium-length  dark-         blonde  hair and hazel eyes, her breasts are  about  the          size  of oranges, her waist is slim, and her  bottom  is          like  two halves of a small, round water-melon.    As  I          entered, she was standing by her bed, half-facing in  my          direction and in the process of removing it, had  pulled          her floppy top up  so that her head was engulfed in  it.          Below,  she  was  wearing the bottom  of  her  two-piece          swimsuit  but  her  breasts  were  completely  bare.   I          couldn't keep myself from audibly gasping at the sight.             When she heard my intake of breath, Bobbie pulled her          top  down  so  she could see over  its  folds,  but  her          jutting of her breasts prevented it from coming down far          enough  to hide them completely.    Naturally,  since  I          did  always knock before entering, her eyes showed  some          surprise and she said, "Daddy?"            I  tried - God, how I tried! - to divert my gaze  from          her  half-nude body, but for a long moment I could  only          stare  at  her. Then I said, "I'm sorry,  Dear,"  and  I          turned toward the door.            Before  I  could  go  through  it  though,  she  said,          "Daddy,"  again,  and I turned back toward  her.     Not          very  diligently, I'm afraid, Bobbie was now  trying  to          pull  her  top down farther, but her bare  breasts  were          still  nearly completely visible to me. Keeping my  eyes          away  from  those luscious mounds exposed before  me,  I          tried  hard to look into her eyes and she  was  blushing          profusely. "The catch on the bra of my swimsuit  broke,"          she  explained. "That's why I don't have it on under  my          pullover."            "I  see,"  I  said,  and  then  saw  her  eyes   flick          downwards.  At the sight of those lovely little breasts,          I could feel my penis rapidly growing hard and realizing          there  was  no way I could hide my  condition  from  her          gaze, I turned again to the door.            "Daddy," Bobbie said again, and I turned back to  her.          She  had abandoned her top, leaving her breasts in  full          view.  "Do you think my breasts are pretty?" she  asked,          and   pulled  her  shoulders  back  to   enhance   their          appearance.  Not knowing what to say, I  gulped  deeply.          "You  haven't  seen them since they developed.  I  mean,          uncovered,"  she  went on.   "Well," she  insisted,  "do          you?"            "Do I what?" I asked, my mind in a complete dither.            "Think  my  breasts  are  pretty,  silly,"  she  said,          smiling at me.            "They're-beautiful,  Sweetheart,"  Glancing  at   them          again in spite of myself, to my dismay, I noticed  their          nipples were now erect.            "Daddy,"  said  Bobbie in her gentlest  voice,  "Am  I          giving you a problem?"            "Why,  no," I lied, but saw her eyes were fastened  on          the  unmistakable bulge profiled in my shorts. Her  eyes          rose to meet mine as she said,            "Are you sure?"            After the break-up of my marriage I had not engaged in          sex  with  anyone, getting a job with a large  law  firm          where the only women were either elderly secretaries  or          the masculine-looking, hard-as-nails type with about  as          much  sex appeal as a book of statutes.   Fear  of  AIDS          prevented  me from even thinking of seeking relief  from          anyone  else I came into contact with and  the sight  of          the  half-nude body of my sixteen-year-old daughter  was          reminding  me just how deprived I had been.   "Well,  of          course  you are!" I almost shouted at her. "I am  human,          you know, even if I am your father!"             My  daughter  smiled  at me  in  apparent  sympathetic          understanding.  In hardly more than a whisper, she asked          "Have  you   had sex with anybody since Mom  left?"  she          asked.            I shook my head. "The AIDS thing has . . ."            Bobbie  cut  off  my  stumbling  words.  Stating   the          obvious, she observed, "Then you must be feeling awfully          horny," and I wondered where she had learned that word.            Somewhat defensively, I said, "Well, of course I  miss          sex. I'm just not cut out for celibacy."            A  very serious look came over Bobbie's  lovely  face.          "Do you want to do it to me?" she asked.            Interpreting  her question to mean she was  astounded,          even horrified, that I was obviously sexually aroused at          the  sight of my own daughter's body, I said,  "Darling,          I'm  sorry.   Whether he wanted it to or not, the  sight          of a beautiful young nearly-naked body like yours  would          stimulate any man."            Understanding my disavowal, Bobbie shook her head.  "I          wasn't condemning you," she said. "I was inviting you."            Unable   to  believe  my  ears,  I  stared   at   her,          speechless.            Her voice soft, Bobbie went one. "Did you know, before          she went away,  Mom got me a prescription for the pill?"          and  surprised,  I shook my head.  "Uh-huh,"  she  said,          nodding  her head. "When I started dating and having  my          periods.  Mom said they would help my  complexion."  She          laughed.   "But  I knew she thought I'd probably  do  it          with somebody before long.   I guess she thought I might          have inherited her `hot pants' and she didn't want me to          get pregnant.            "So,  I don't see why I can't help you  sometimes.  It          isn't as though you're going to knock me up and have  to          pay for an abortion."            I  was  aghast  at her suggestion.    "But  you're  my          daughter."            As  though that were hardly worth considering,  Bobbie          shrugged her shoulders.   Pointedly looking again toward          my  crotch,  she  said, "And a daughter ought  to  be  a          comfort to her father.   Not a problem!            Bobbie  looked at me very seriously. "I  know   you've          had a pretty rough time of it since Mother ran off.    I          know knew men needed sex every so often, so wouldn't  it          be better for you to do it with me than take the  chance          of catching `some horrible disease' from someone else?"            When  I didn't respond, Bobbie was  insistent.  "Well,          wouldn't it? You mentioned the AIDS thing, yourself."            Vehemently shaking my head, I said, "I'm not going  to          take your virginity."            Staring  at me for a moment as though I  were  someone          from an earlier century, Bobbie threw her head back  and          laughed  lightly. "That's already been taken  care  of!"          she said.            My  jaw  dropped open. I had not wanted  to  think  my          beautiful  young  daughter might have already  lost  her          virginity,  but  with  a  face and  body  like  hers,  I          shouldn't  have been surprised. And I  certainly  didn't          want to think she might have inherited her mother's `hot          pants!'            Frowning  at my stunned look, Bobbie said, "Well,  I'm          not a tramp! I've only done it three times, and with the          same  boy. And if you're wondering," she went  on,  "I'm          the first and only girl he's done it with. So you  don't          have  to worry about me having caught some disease  from          him."            My mind in a turmoil, I was still speechless and stood          staring at he. After a moment or two, Bobbie reached  up          and,  finishing pulling her top off over her  head,  she          slipped   the  skimpy  bottom  of  her  suit  over   her          beautifully-rounded  bottom,  letting  it  drop  to  the          floor. Stepping out of it, she turned to face me. At the          top  of  her slit, the tuft of hair was  the  same  dark          blonde as the hair on her head, but there was so  little          of it I could see her genital lips disappearing  between          her thighs. I groaned! She smiled sympathetically at  my          discomfort - what an inadequate word! - and sat down  on          the edge of her bed. Holding her arms out toward me, she          said, "Daddy, I love you. Let me help you."            Now, Dr. VB, if there is a man alive who can walk away          from  an  invitation like that from  such  a  delectable          example  of female youth, I will eat his hat, his  coat,          and his trousers! Yes, I succumbed, and daughter or not,          I defy any man to say he wouldn't have done likewise!  I          walked  -  no, staggered - to Bobbie and  kneeling  down          before her, put my arms around her waist and my head  on          those  luscious,  soft young breasts. Putting  her  arms          around  my neck and pressing my cheek to her bosom,   as          though  I were a baby in her arms, she rocked  back  and          forth. Then putting her hands on my biceps, she urged me          to rise.            Standing  me before her, Bobbie unfastened my  shorts,          pulling  them  down so they dropped  around  my  ankles.          Causing  my erection to spring upright not over  a  foot          from  her  face,  grasping the waistband  of  my  jockey          shorts, she pulled them down too.            Smiling  grimly  at her look of surprise,  I  thought,          `Not the half-grown cock of some pimply-faced  teenager,          is it, my sweet?'            Gingerly,  Bobby  took  my  penis  in  her  hand   and          examining  it closely, moved it this way and  that.  "So          that's where I came from," she said. And then she looked          up at me and said, "Daddy?"            Thinking my cock being larger than she'd expected, she          was  having second thoughts - and, if she did, I  didn't          know if I could prevent myself from raping her!, I asked          "What?"            "I  really am doing this just to help you," she  said.          Bobbie lay back on the bed, her thighs spread  slightly,          and smiled up at me.            "I  know,  Honey," I said.   Climbing in  between  her          legs, which she opened wider to receive me, I removed my          shirt and laid myself between them.            "What  I mean is, when you are feeling  really  horny,          you  can come to me," Bobbie said. "But I don't want  to          do it, like every night, just for your pleasure."            "I understand, Sweetheart," I said, and a smile on her          lips,  Bobbie  lay back and waited for  my  penetration.             Arms  up, hands beside her head on the pillow, her  body          totally  relaxed, it was almost as if she were simply  a          little  girl  again,  waiting for Daddy to  read  her  a          story.             Approaching  her gingerly and placing the head  of  my          penis  into  her slit, to my  surprise,  it  encountered          dampness.  Bobbie's  juices were flowing, and  with  the          lubricant  seeping from the end of my cock, I  was  sure          entry  would  be no problem. Pushing forward,  my  penis          slid in to about half its length and Oh, God! she was so          tight!     Retreating an inch and pushed again,  it  was          all  the  way  in her.  Probably because  my  penis  was          larger than the other one she had experienced, there was          a  flickering  of  her eyelids and  a  quick  intake  of          breath, but then she smiled again.            Positioning  myself over her, I began  the  in-and-out          movements.   Looking down her flat tummy and watching my          cock, shiny with our juices, disappear into her and then          reappear was the most fascinating sight of my life!            No  matter how urgent my need for relief, I make  sure          my  partner enjoys her own orgasm, and  even  though  it          had  been a `long time between drinks', I didn't  intend          for  this time to be an exception.    Making long,  slow          insertions  and withdrawals, moving a little from  side-         to-side  to stimulate the nerve-endings in the walls  of          her  vagina,  I  made my  pubic  bone  massage  Bobbie's          clitoris  when I was completely within her.    Realizing          later  I was taking substantially longer than any  self-         serving  teenage  boy was likely to, I did  this  for  a          considerable  time and then the expression on  her  face          began  to change. A very thoughtful look appearing,  and           clutching at the pillow slip on either side of her head,          Bobbie  didn't seem to know what to do with  her  hands.            Until  now, she had been lying perfectly still, but  her          bottom  began  making  small,  jerky  moves  against  my          middle.  Looking  at  me  with  half-closed  eyes,   she          suddenly said, "Daddy?"            "What, Sweetheart?" I said, not slowing my pace.            In a high, quavering voice, she said, "Can girls  c-c-         come?".            Surprised, I stopped all movement and said, "Of course          they can." I looked down into her face, and asked,  "You          haven't had an orgasm when you've done this before?"            Closing  her  eyes, Bobbie shook her  head.  "I  don't          know," she said.            "Oh  darling,  when  you have one,  you'll  know  it!"          Resuming  my  in-and-out motions, in  a  still-quavering          voice and almost as if she hadn't even heard my comment,          Bobbie  continued, "But I'm feeling funnier and  funnier          down there.            "Oh,  boy! Oh-h-h, bo-o-y!"   Bobbie's  arms  suddenly          went around my neck, and she pushed her buttocks  upward          in short, sharp jabs. "Oh, Daddeee!" she cried and as  I          felt the muscles of her tight little pussy clamp  around          my  turgid  cock,  I hit the  high-spot.  Cum  exploding          through my shaft like bullets from a machine-gun barrel,          Bobbie  clutched me to her breasts, her body shaking  so          hard I was afraid for her.            And then she fell back, and I collapsed on top of her.            After  a few moments' rest, I rolled over  and  pulled          her  head onto my shoulder. I kissed her cheek,  and  my          lips  tasted a salty tear.   Truly concerned,  I  asked,           "I didn't hurt you, did I, Precious?"            Bobbie  shook  her head and peeped at me  out  of  the          corner of her wet eyes. "No, Daddy. It was -  beautiful!          I  didn't  know  it could be  like  that."  Her  breasts          rubbing  against  my ribs, she snuggled up  to  me,  and          after a moment, put her lips to my ear.            "You  know  what  I  said?"  she  asked,  in  a  voice          surprisingly  husky  for  her age, "I  mean,  about  you          coming to me just when you were really horny?" I nodded,          yes. "Well, you can forget that," she said. Then  Bobbie          chuckled, almost to herself. "You can do that to me  any          time you want!"            Figuring  they were just showing their ignorance,  she          later  told  me she'd heard girls talk  about  `coming'.            How  could a girl come, she'd wondered, if  she  doesn't          ejaculate  semen?    Knowing it felt pretty good  to  do          it,  Bobbie said, "But I hadn't expected  anything  like          that!"            Having experienced her first orgasm, she has not  been          shy about seeking repetitions. The `anytime you want to'          has  become  anytime  she  wants  to,  and  that  is   -          frequently!            What her former boy-friend thinks, I don't know  since          she tells me that she has `cut him off' entirely. And  I          don't  know  what is going to happen in  the  future.  I          suppose  she'll  get married one of these  days,  and  I          probably  will, too. But, for now, I just have to  admit          that I'm not strong enough to resist Bobbie's youth  and          beauty.  And enthusiasm!            Sincerely yours,            Edward            P.S.  So you won't think I have made all this  up,  or          that  my daughter might have a different story to  tell,          I'm going to show this letter to Bobbie and tell her she          can add her own comments if she wants to, so -            Dear Dr. VB: I love my Daddy, and I am so glad that he          gave  me my very first orgasm because I might  not  have          ever  had  one if he hadn't. Well, I  guess  I  probably          would  have,  sooner or later. Anyhow, I love  doing  it          with  him!  And I really love it when he brings  me  off          with  his tongue in my pussy! (I see he didn't tell  you          about that, though! Ha, ha!) Yours truly, Bobbie            P.P.S. I promised her that I wouldn't change  anything          she  wanted  to  add to the letter, so I  won't.  But  I          notice that she didn't tell you how she can suck my very          soul  out of me through my penis with her  sweet,  young          mouth. (So there, my love!)            Edward            P.P.P.S. Daddy! Bobbie             +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+                             CAROL AND TOM                             by `Nom de Plume'                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~           We  were dirt poor, as it was called then. There  were          many poor families in the Depression, and we were  among          the  poorest.  Our  father  did  what  he  could:   auto          mechanic,  home  handyman,  occasional  logger,  but  we          sometimes  didn't have enough to eat - my  twin  sister,          Carol and I. We were 15 and had not known any other way.          We had always been poor, but happy.            At  least as I look back on it now, I realize we  were          happy.  We weren't comfortable and our daily lives  were          filled  with  the chores one must do when  there  is  no          central heat, no plumbing, and very little money to  buy          food.  We  lived  in  western  Virginia,  in  the   Blue          Mountains.  Carol did the cooking and house-cleaning.  I          chopped  wood in the fall and winter, tried to stop  the          roof  from  leaking, slaughtered the  chickens  and  the          other  man-chores around the house. We attended  a  one-         room school that we walked to. We were the oldest in the          class  since our father was not a farmer. We  had  never          been  farther  than our local town,  Thompsonville,  and          that only on special occasions or on Sunday.            Our  cabin  was  tiny,  just  three  rooms  -  a  main          living/dining/kitchen  with  one  wood  stove  and   two          bedrooms.  Our  father  had a bedroom and  Carol  and  I          shared  one.  Back  then this  was  acceptable,  out  of          necessity.  Boys and girls frequently shared  a  bedroom          with several siblings. We had small beds not quite  long          enough for our lanky teenaged bodies, and we each had  a          home-made  dresser.  Our headboards butted  in  opposite          directions  so  we couldn't see each  other  when  lying          down. We had no closet and hung coats and things on pegs          along  one wall. There was a window on the outside  wall          through which the virgin forest dominated the view.            I  had  reached puberty - that is, I had  grown  pubic          hair - a little after my 14th birthday. My knowledge  of          sex  was limited to barnyard observances. I had no  idea          how humans did it. I started masturbating in the  spring          following  my 15th birthday. Our little cabin  and  tiny          bedroom afforded little privacy so I got into the  habit          of waking up in the middle of the night, when I knew  my          sister   would   be  asleep,  to  masturbate.   It   was          impossible,  what  with  the rusty  springs  and  wooden          floor,  to  be  entirely silent about it  but  I  tried.          Having  to  go  slowly  and the  fear  of  being  caught          heightened the experience and I did it almost nightly.            One night as I was almost silently stroking and  ready          to come, I thought I heard an unusual sound from in back          of  me. I froze immediately and waited. And waited.  The          sound did not recur and my cock was ready to burst, so I          gave  it some quick strokes and shot a very  large  load          all  over my pajamas. There it was, that sound again!  I          couldn't place it but it almost sounded like water, like          the creek in the hollow, like a slurping sound.            A  few  nights later, as I was stroking  away  in  the          middle  of the night, I heard the sound. I froze, but  -          being bolder now - started up again soon. This time  the          sound was louder and I didn't stop and the sound  didn't          stop.  This went on for a few weeks. I supposed she  was          masturbating,  but - remember this was the Thirties  and          before widely available pornography - I didn't know  how          girls masturbated. The possibility that she was doing to          herself  something like what I was doing  was  extremely          exciting for me and I looked forward to hearing her.  We          each tried to be quiet but I think each of us knew  that          the other knew.            Sharing a bedroom meant that, no matter how  carefully          we planned it, accidents of overly exposed skin happened          all  too frequently. I had seen my sister's  naked  body          often  enough to watch it change. Her hips widened,  her          nipples and then her breasts swelled, and although I saw          it  less frequently, she started growing hair in  the  V          where  her legs met. She had seen me naked also  and  we          had  both  been  secretly  curious  about  each  other's          bodies.  Lately  though, I noticed Carol  trying  harder          than  normal  to catch me. Once I saw  her  watching  me          bathe in the creek.            One morning I awoke sleepily and in desperate need  of          a  good  long piss. As I stumbled to the door  my  erect          cock slipped out of the slit in the front of my pajamas.          I  heard a gasp from her and quickly tucked it back  in.          That  night I masturbated twice while  remembering  that          gasp. Both times I heard the slurping again.            Partly due to my nightly pleasure sessions I was,  and          still  am, a light sleeper. One night I awoke gently  to          hear the floor creeping. I opened my eyes just barely to          see  my  sister,  in  her  pajamas,  oh-  so-slowly  and          gingerly tiptoeing toward my bed. She was looking at  my          crotch,  and  seeing  my  erection  bobbing  out  of  my          pajamas. I pretended to be asleep as she crept closer. I          was  scared, to tell you the truth. What  was  happening          was new, taboo, and exciting. She knelt down next to  my          bed and watched it for the longest time. Needless to say          this  was very stimulating to me and my cock bobbed  for          attention. After a while, she crept back to her bed  and          I heard the slurping sound again.            This continued for some time, this nightly  inspection          at  attention and became the fantasy I thought  of  when          masturbating.  One  night  I just got so  turned  on  by          exposing  myself  to her that I had to touch  myself.  I          figured I had to pretend I was doing it in my sleep  and          almost  casually  jerked my hand across my cock.  I  saw          Carol jump but she dared not move suddenly or the  floor          would make a definite and loud noise. I decided that the          most  I could do was one more brush of my hand  over  my          hard-on. This time I squeezed it between two fingers  as          my hand went over it. In spite of herself, she gasped.            Well, this was getting interesting. Carol didn't  show          up   at  my  bedside  for  several  nights  and  I   was          disappointed. I thought I had scared her away. One night          I  became  aware of her presence and,  still  pretending          sleep,  stroked  my  cock casually  several  times.  She          stayed. After a little while, I stroked it several  more          times,  then  waited, then several more times.  All  the          while my movements were slow and awkward enough so  that          I could claim sleep if questioned. Well, this  situation          and slow stroking was getting to me and, without trying,          I  came.  Carol audibly groaned. I was  embarrassed  and          stayed  quite still for the rest of the night.  I  vowed          never to do that again.            A few nights later I became aware of my sister  beside          me. My cock was hard and peeking through my pajamas,  as          usual.  I  determined  not to stroke  myself  and  Carol          stayed  for  a very long time waiting for me to  do  so.          Suddenly  but  gently I felt her fingers on my  cock.  I          couldn't  believe it. I didn't know anything could  feel          so  good. Her touch was light and yet at just the  right          spot.  Her hand wasn't moving but it didn't need  to.  I          couldn't  help  myself and came spontaneously.  My  jism          went  all over her hand. She gently took her  hand  away          and wiped it on her pajamas.            As  I  thought back on it later, that night  marked  a          turning  point in our relationship. Always friendly  and          co-operative, we now treated each other with some warmth          and tenderness. Carol was much freer with showing me her          body  now and made no pretence of modesty. We  undressed          in front of each other, if it didn't seem too forced  to          do  so, and swam naked together in the  creek.  However,          months had gone by and she had not visited my bedside. I          was disappointed and desperately clung to every  instant          of   the  last  time  she  did.  It  was   my   constant          masturbation fantasy.            One night I heard her masturbating and decided to  see          just exactly what she was doing. It was a moonless night          so  the room was almost pitch black. I carefully  lifted          myself  from  my  bed and started  to  cross  the  room,          stepping only where I knew the boards did not creak. She          must have heard me anyway because she suddenly  stopped.          I froze. After what seemed like an eternity she  started          again.  I  could  see movement, but  couldn't  make  out          exactly   what  was  moving.  I  stepped   closer,   the          floorboard  made  a sound, but Carol did not  stop  this          time.            Finally,  I was within three feet of her bed  and  sat          down.  My cock was absolutely rigid and ready  to  burst          from  the tension of the scene. I could barely make  out          my  sister's  arm across her waist and her hand  in  her          crotch.  It  was moving up and down and making  quite  a          slurping  sound  now.  Carol  was  moaning  and  quietly          grunting.  Well,  this  was too  much  and  I  carefully          lowered myself so I was flat on my back on the floor and          began  to stroke myself. I could tell she was  going  to          come soon and so was I. I decided to time myself so that          we  came together. When we did, we dropped all  pretence          of  being quiet and grunted quite audibly.  Hers  lasted          longer than mine. I lay there for quite awhile and  then          snuck back to bed.            The next morning my sister and I looked at each  other          and acknowledged with our eyes the secret we shared.  It          was a further deepening of our relationship. A few  days          later  I was bathing in the creek and was really  turned          on.  Naked,  I lay down on the plush grass  and  started          stroking myself. It was such a turn-on to feel the sun's          warmth  on  my balls and to be doing this in  the  open.          Suddenly  I heard a noise in the bush in back of me  and          turned around to see Carol emerging and heading straight          for me. I was paralysed.            She gently knelt beside me and without saying a  word,          put  her hand on my cock, which had started to  go  soft          from the fright. She stroked it slowly and it sprang  to          attention. It felt so good that I lay back and closed my          eyes. It didn't take long for her ministrations to  have          the desired result and I came great globs of semen.  She          continued  to  hold my cock until I  calmed  down  some.          Then,  without  saying  a word she got  up  and  started          taking  off her clothes. Naked, she lay down  beside  me          and proceeded to gently pinch her nipples and stroke her          stomach.            I  got  up on my elbow to watch. She parted  her  legs          and,  for the first time I got a clear view of a  girl's          pussy.  What  a sight! She had bushy sandy  brown  pubic          hair, very plush pussy lips, a large and erect clit  and          she  was very wet. Her hand stroked the lips, oh  how  I          longed to do so, and rubbed up and down on her clit.  It          didn't  take very long for her to come and as  she  did,          her  whole  body  tensed and her  hips  lifted  off  the          ground.  She gradually came down but kept rubbing.  Soon          the   tension  built  to  another  orgasm,   then   soon          afterward, another. This was incredibly exciting for  me          and  I was stroking my cock again. About Carol's  fourth          orgasm I had my second. We were wild.            That  night, as soon as we went to bed, she came  over          and knelt beside my bed. She reached into my pajamas and          softly  and  tentatively  held  my  cock.  It  got  hard          immediately and she started stroking. It felt so good in          spite of my having come twice already today. Before long          I came once again, this time more vehemently than I ever          had before. Afterward, Carol just grazed the head of  my          cock  with  her lips, as if to kiss  it  goodnight.  She          stood and went back to her bed. Before long I heard  her          masturbating and went over to her bedside.            I  lightly placed my hand on top of hers  between  her          legs and our hands moved in unison for a while. I wanted          to feel her wetness and so took my hand away and  stoked          her  inner  thigh up to her pussy. My, was she  wet  and          messy.  I  explored  the many folds of  her  pussy.  She          withdrew her hand and I found her clit and rubbed it the          way  I'd seen her do it by the creek. After a  while,  I          got the hang of it and felt her body tensing for climax.          Her  peak  was  extremely violent also,  with  her  body          arching, teeth clenching, and fists white. When she came          down,  I slowly withdrew my hand and silently went  back          to bed. This day would be a favourite fantasy for  years          to come.            Our  sexual relationship continued like this for  many          months. Many times we would mutually masturbate down  by          the creek or would make each other come at night in  our          beds,  or just listen to the other masturbate. We  knew,          of  course,  living in the country, that cocks  go  into          vaginas.  We were afraid to try that though for fear  of          Carol getting pregnant. My sister was increasingly using          her fingers inside her pussy when she masturbated though          and I longed to put my dick in there. One night, as  she          was  sitting on my bed stroking my cock she seemed  more          turned on than unusual. She stood up and pulled down her          pajamas  and  said  to me, "I just want to  try  this  a          little."            She straddled me with her pussy just above my cock.  I          could  hardly bare it, waiting for the first feel  of  a          pussy  on  my  cock. Slowly,  too  slowly,  she  lowered          herself  and holding my cock, let it just graze her  wet          and dripping pussy lips. It felt so good, her hand,  her          wetness, her warmth so close to me. She poised there for          what seemed like an eternity, just stroking herself with          my  cock. Finally she lowered herself a little  and  the          head  of my cock went inside. I thought I was  going  to          explode. Carol sensed that and said that I mustn't come.          We  remained  motionless for a long time.  Finally,  she          took  my cock out and lay down beside me. She  proceeded          to  stroke  herself  and  I  stroked  myself.  We   came          together.            A few days later my sister and I decided to picnic  on          top of Thompson's Hill, about a three mile walk from our          cabin.  Along the way was a small waterfall and we  went          skinny-dipping.  The cold water felt good. I was  amazed          at  how fast Carol's body had changed. Her breasts  were          now  more  than mounds. They actually sagged  a  little,          although the cold tightened them up and made her nipples          very  prominent.  She had an explosive  growth  of  hair          between  her  legs yet her pronounced  pussy  lips  were          clearly  visible.  We hugged and I gently  squeezed  her          nipples. They were so cute. We got dressed and proceeded          on our hike. Soon we reached our destination, a clearing          in  a  dense virgin timber forest on top  of  Thompson's          Hill. We spread our blanket and ate our lunch.            Afterward,  Carol  lay with her head in my  lap  as  I          played  with  her breasts. I said,  "Let's  get  naked,"          which we did with deliberate speed. It was a chilly  day          and the sun felt good on our bodies. I rolled on my side          and  traced circles on my sister's breast, just  outside          the areola. Her nipples were already hard and I  lightly          grazed  them with my finger tips. I kept doing this  for          quite  a while, first one nipple, then the other. I  was          fascinated  with  these. They were so  responsive.  Soon          Carol  was moaning almost under her breath.  She  gently          tugged  my hand down over her stomach to the top of  her          pubic hair and then to her pussy, which was  deliciously          wet.  As I ran my finger delicately up the folds of  her          pussy and nudged her clitoris she let out a squeak I had          never heard before. Needless to say, I had been hard all          this  time and had been against her leg, getting it  wet          with my pre-cum.            I  made several more strokes up her vagina. She  said,          "I  can't take it anymore. Come inside me."  She  opened          her  legs more and I got over her and positioned  myself          with  my cock-head against her pussy. I had  never  done          this  before and my actions were tentative. My cock  was          right at her pussy lips and I stayed that way for a long          time. Slowly, an inch at a time I moved forward until my          cock-head  was  just inside. I moved deeper  and  slowly          deeper. It was tight but it felt so good. Suddenly I ran          into a wall. I said, "It won't go in anymore." She said,          "Yes, it will. You just have to try harder." This was  a          challenge  so  I thrust with some force  now  and  Carol          cried out in pain. I said, "What happened?" She said, "I          don't know, but don't take it out." We remained in  that          position  for  a  long time until  I  couldn't  take  it          anymore  and  started stroking. I was in  deep  now  and          noticed that whenever I thrust all the way in she seemed          to  like it. I got in the rhythm of going very  deep.  I          tried   to  hold  my  climax  but  couldn't   and   came          explosively.            We  stayed locked together for a long time and then  I          got soft and withdrew. As I did so, I noticed blood -  a          lot  of blood - all over her pussy and my cock. I  said,          "Carol,  look!" She screeched. We thought I had  damaged          her. We quickly packed up and she used leaves and  grass          to wipe herself. When we got back to the waterfall,  she          undressed and washed her pussy. I said, "Does it  hurt?"          She said, "A little. but I still liked it."            After that time we made love several more times before          we both went away to school. I became a writer and Carol          became  an artist. She married happily and raised  three          boys. Much later in life, in our late forties, we talked          about  our  childhood  sex  and agreed  it  had  been  a          positive  experience.  Both  of  us  had,  partly  as  a          consequence, had active and fulfilling sex lives.  Carol          passed  away  three years ago and I miss her  dearly.  I          never  got  to tell her that she was the  most  exciting          woman of my life.          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~         For your assistance and information.         Common abbreviations used on alt.sex.stories and others                   qualifier   story to include                       ________+______________________                   aphyx         breath control                            beast         with animals                              bon           bondage                                   child         non-adult: children                       dis           discipline                                dom           domination                                enema         enema given/received                      exhib         public exhibition                         Fm            female dominating male                    f or m        female or male                            ff or F       lesbians                                  forced        non-consensual                            funny         humorous stuff                            furry         humans with fur                           group         more than two persons                        heavy         intense                   incest        family relations                   info          information on a topic                   mild          mild whatever                   Mf            male dominating female                   mm or Mm      gays                   pedo          adult/child                   poem          poetic material                   sm            involving pain                   teen          non adult:teenagers                   trans         transsexual                   vanilla       simple male-female                   weird         very odd              comments?  additions?  We are trying to build a  generic          list and are sure we've left some out...???         +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+                            ANON.PENET.FI                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~           Following the closure of `anon.penet.fi', the  popular          anonymous remailing service, M.C.G. are entertaining the          idea  of devoting a proportion of our computer space  to          offering  a similar service.   All transmissions and  e-         mail are completely `untouched by human hand' (and eye),          and  subscribers to "ELECTRA MAGAZINE" will be  e-mailed          with  details of how to use the service, should it  ever          come about.         +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+           From our "Case-book" Series of true accounts, run as a          serial  on newsgroups, Chapters 1 to 6 of the  following          story  told  of  Steven Morris's  realisation  that  his          daughter and son-in-law, with whom he had gone to  live,          were  incestuously-involved with their daughter, 12  yr-         old Paula, and that as a result, she was running wild.           Matters  become  further  complicated  when   Steven's          attraction to Pam, his daughter, is sensed by Roger, her          very self-centred husband.           Confronted  with either having having to  abandon  his          daughter  to  solve  her  own  problems  and  leave  the          household,  or to help her, stay and face Roger,  Steven          wondrs just what is:                                 "THE BEST POLICY"                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                 (contd)           "Yesterday,  in  your bedroom, my mind  was  on  other          things.   I never noticed it."   There was silence for a          few  seconds.    Pam's  voice  was  hushed.    "I  never          realised before, it is so long."           Since  moving-into his daughter's home, with  so  much          sexually-orientated   activity:  his  gathering   sexual          desire for Paula; the discovery of incestuous  activity;          Paula's   near-rape  of  him;  his   daughter's   sexual          coquettishness  and  profoundly erotic  demand  of  that          morning;  his  touching  of  her  body;  the  developing          intimacy during their riverside stroll, over the  weeks,          Steven  had  been sexually-aroused and,  when  about  to          climax,  on  so  many  occasions  let  down,  his  penis          permanently semi-hard to the point of ache, the  sexual-         spring within him was stretched taut.                He  smiled.  "It's  one  of the  things  God  made  an          extremely  good  job  of for  me.    Your  mother  never          realised it, but it was full of love for her.   And  now          it  is  for you."   He paused.   "If you want  it,  that          is."           Her  head on one side, Pam eagerly looked up  at  him.            "Can I love it now?"            Low,  husky-voiced sexiness dripping from Pam  roared          violently  into  Steven's abdomen  and  flames  suddenly          ignited, dull pain thumping in his genitals.   For years          suppressed, incestuous fantasy in his mind had generated          smouldering  embers.   Fuelled by Pamela's  and  Paula's          incestuous  activities, re-inforced by physical  contact          with  them,  with high-octane energy  pouring  from  his          daughter's  now-openly-admitted  incestuous  desire,   a          blow-torch flare of sexual heat sat between his  thighs.           If  exposed  to  Pam's touch, Steven  knew  the  sexual-         tension wouldn't last a minute.            Silently, his hand guiding his long penis towards her,          Steven  slid  the other around Pam's head,  coaxing  her          towards  the bloated, dull-shining head.  "Let  it  love          you instead," he said.            "Will  it?"  whispered Pam.   Face flushed, her  eyes          gleaming,   her  tongue  slithered  across   her   lips,          quivering tip protruding  as clasping his penis near the          enormous  purple-red  bell that was  his  glans,  Steven          gently eased her mouth towards it.              Possessed  by the life's-desire to  sexually-love  his          daughter,  Steven was beyond excitement; in  slow  time,          all mental-vision, thought and awareness gone, his  sole          focus  was the fiery, throbbing pain in  his  testicles,          channelling  the  dull ache towards the  soft  flesh  of          Pamela's glistening-red lips as, ready to take him, they          parted.            Apprehensive of its force but eager to gather the life          threatening  to detonate within him, sensing his  climax          powering,  Pam sank lower to the floor, her  lips  below          the tiny pouting slit at his penis-tip.   Well aware  of          an  inner sense saying she was committing her future  to          him,  deliberately, her pointed tongue-tip  reached  up,          delicately caressing bunched nerve-ends.               Muscle,  tendon and sinew locking him, his head  back,          Steven's eyes bulged.  Gripping her father's thighs, his          buttocks  pushed towards her, Pamela felt  an  unhurried          spill of white sperm arc into her filling mouth.            Steven's smooth, tangy semen flowing across her tongue          in a steady, oily stream, a brilliant light shimmered in          Pam's mind.   Spinning in her womb, surging up into  her          soaring  heart, intensely exciting  realisation  struck;          she was feeding at the fountainhead of her own  genesis,          tasting the origin of her own conception.              Her  mouth  swiftly filled, loops of  milky  secretion          dribbling  over  her  lips and cheek  as  Pam's  probing          tongue urgently reached for its source.  Eyes closed  in          blissful  ecstasy,  her  breath  catching,  she   slowly          swallowed.             Holding herself stock-still, her larynx closing,   Pam          waited  the last slippery-deliverance to drip  into  her          open  mouth.    Licking her lips  clean,  relishing  the          cold/warm sensation as she swallowed again, with a small          sigh, her eyes flicked open.   Holding Steven's gaze for          a second, she suddenly caught hold of his sagging penis,          and kissing it, buried her head in his lap.   "Oh, Dad,"          she  whispered.   "That was beautiful.   I felt it  flow          right  down  in  me, right into my  heart."    Her  eyes          moist,  she looked up at him again.   "Paula was  right,          having  her  Daddy's love come into her would  make  any          girl  happy.    It was just as I always hoped  it  would          be".                 His eyes smiling, Steven gently stroked her hair.   "I          wish now we had done that years ago.   Things would have          been so different."   Expectantly, his eyes opened  wide          as he looked at her.   "Doing that felt wonderful."           Pam   smiled.    "Mummy  didn't  know  what  she   was          missing,"  she said.   "The first of many?"   They  knew          something  profound had happened, that within them,  one          door had firmly shut and another opened wide.   Replaced          by  a future as warm and intimate as they wished  it  to          be,  past days of distance and strain between  them  had          passed.    Chased  away by the warmth exuding  from  the          good-looking  man  sitting opposite  her,  Pam  suddenly          realised  the image she'd held of her father  had  gone,          replaced  by a strong feeling of friendship, covered  in          healthy  lust, wrapped up in his want for her.    Inside          her,  sufficient  to make what  she'd  just  experienced          produce sexy-twinges of illicit-fun, daughterly-love for          her  father  remained, but most had been replaced  by  a          strong  glow of adult happy love of the man.    With  an          inner  shiver of excitement, a little seepage  of  fluid          trickled from her vagina.           Giving her a swift kiss as he helped her to her  feet,          Steven looked at her. "The first of many."           Delight  and  deep satisfaction  in  letting  Steven's          penis  fill  her mouth suddenly  tingled  through  Pam's          belly  and breasts.   Gasping at the  moral-enormity  of          the   realisation,  for  an  instant,  her   imagination          elatedly  cherished  the powerful, sexy image  of  being          pinned  beneath his naked body,  her legs  locked  round          her   father's  back,  and  her  heart  squeezing,   she          visualised  feeling that fantastically long  penis  bury          itself deep into her womb, squirting in her.  Her  heart          skipping a beat, Pam suddenly knew she was in love  with          him.   Involuntarily clamping her thighs together  under          the   table  as  she  closed  her  eyes,   her   stomach          shudderingly clenched as her cervix thrilled.           Shaking  her  head to clear it, Pam's eyes  opened  to          find  Steven looking at her, a grin on his face.    "Has          another  of those `positive benefits' just turned  up?",          he knowingly enquired.           "Yes."  Momentarily, Pam felt sheepishly  embarrassed,          then, reliving the sensation, her shoulders going  back,          squarely  catching her father's gaze,  she  straightened          up.    "Yes,"  she said emphatically.   "And I  like  it          very much."                               *    **    *                                  A little later, thoroughly recovered and at ease  with          each  other,  as always, the  conversation  reverted  to          Paula.    Pam sighed.   "One of the difficulties of  the          way  of  life in this house is that, to Roger,   in  all          other  things except his sex-life, Paula  comes  second.            All  the time he wants to screw her, she can do  as  she          wishes, but if ever he lost interest in her body - which          he wont - he'd simply see her as his daughter, expecting          her  to  revert back to being an obedient  12  year-old,          doing as her father tells her, when he tells her!              "That  is going to be the difficult thing  to  contend          with.   Suppose,  knocking  at the  door  of  love,  she          suddenly  grows up, only to realise her father  is  only          interested in fucking her?"           Steven shrugged his shoulders.  "Eventually, she  must          do.   Even more reason this is the time to give her  the          real  thing."   He glanced at Pam, sorrowful that  lines          of concern had re-appeared on her face.   "If it is done          properly,  she'll think it the best thing she  has  ever          had.    You  appreciate what it can do for you;  do  you          think she will be able to overcome her own  shortcomings          once she has found out how love really feels?"           Pam  made  a face.   "Not yet, she is getting  it  all          from  Roger."   She looked keenly at Steven.    "If  you          take a part in things, what if she tells him?"           "Only mild consternation.   Roger cannot say too much,          only  bluster."   Steven smiled to himself.   "All  that          rubbish of yesterday about people in the house  trusting          each  other!   The only person Roger trusts is  himself!            Eventually, he'll kick himself for letting incest become          the family way of life.   Until then, he'll revel in the          good  things and let Paula run his life.   All the  time          she  is  doing that, she will want it to carry  on.    I          fear  dear  Roger is working himself into a  very  tight          corner."           Later,  preparing the evening meal, Pam stood  at  the          cooker.    Suddenly,  she  called  over  her   shoulder.           "Dad?"           "Yes."    Over  the  top  of  his  newspaper,   Steven          regarded her.           Turning  towards  him,  Pam leant  against  the  sink-         drainer. "If I were to leave Roger, how would you feel?"           A pleasing mental flash of a possible future rolled in          his  stomach  as  Steven said,  "Half  of  me  would  be          unhappy,  and  the  other half would  be  very  pleased.            Why, are you thinking of it?"           "I'm thinking about it, not of it.   But things  could          go  either way, and I like to be prepared.    Why  would          you be happy about it?"           Steven  thought,   "Because you'd have a chance  of  a          fresh  start, you'd be happier.   Marriage is  only  any          good  if  all the people in it are  happy.    With  your          situation with Paula, and Roger and Paula, and Roger and          you, well, it must be like living in a strait-jacket."           "It  is", said Pam emphatically.   "I'm  very  rapidly          realising  what  I have been missing-out on.    All  the          wealth in the world doesn't buy peace of mind, and  I've          been  so  long  without  it,  I'm  just  realising  I've          forgotten what it feels like."           Steven  sniffed.    "It's the same position  in  which          your  mother and I found ourselves.  If trust has  gone,          everything else slowly and surely falls apart.  Once  it          starts,  there  is  nothing anyone  can  do  about  it."            Unhappily  recalling the empty days without  Pamela,  he          stared absent-mindedly into space.           After  a few moments, Pamela asked,   "Assuming  Roger          and I split up, where would you go?"           Steven  smiled  reassuringly at  her.    "Don't  worry          about that.   I would find somewhere."           "Would you come and live with us?           For  all  the  warm, easy swell of  hope  within  him,          Steven knew he must divorce himself from the equation of          everything  he might wish for, and concentrate  on  what          was best for his daughter.   And grand-daughter!   "That          could be difficult," he replied.           "Why?" asked Pamela promptly.           Very   methodically,  Steven  carefully   folded   his          newspaper  and laid it on the table.   "You've  made  it          very  clear what you want of me and I could very  easily          be induced into saying I want the same.              "But Paula's presence complicates things.   All  plans          to  bring her back to earth to one side, there is  still          the  little thing that she is into sexual  relationships          within her family.   With you, her and I under the  same          roof, who knows to where it would lead?"           "I  already thought of that, before I asked you.    We          know  damned well where it would lead."   Pam looked  at          him evenly.   "I'm not a fool, Dad.   Whilst I could say          `whatever  will  be, will be' and  leave  everything  to          Destiny, in our circumstances, certain things are almost          foregone conclusions.              "But  even at its very worst, I'd be  happier  knowing          you were helping me to raise Paula than Roger; at  least          I'd know whatever was going on, someone was doing it for          her happiness and not their own."           "That's  very  true.    So  would  I",  said   Steven.            "Seeing  that it closely involves her, we  could  always          see what Paula thought of the idea."           Pam smiled and nodded her head.           "I'll  sound  her  out, if your  wish,"  said  Steven.            "But before I do, you have to clearly understand and  be          happy  to accept the possibilities.   You know what  she          will want?   And very probably how it will have to be?"           Pamela  pursed  her lips.   "With  all  these  divided          loyalties,  it's  complicated,  isn't  it?    Why  can't          anything  be simple?   Everything is so insecure.    No-         one  can make a clear decision or get on  with  anything          enjoyable   without   wondering   whether   Roger   will          manipulate it for his own ends.   And just to ensure  he          can still fuck her whenever he wishes, drag Paula  along          behind him!"   She clutched the edge of the sink.   "Oh,          I wish to God I'd stopped Paula and Roger before it even          started!    Everything  went wrong from then!    I  hate          this  existence!    It's not real-life, it's so -  so  -          miserable!"           Hearing   the  unhappiness  in  her  voice,   as   his          daughter's  tears  started to flow,  starting  from  his          chair,  Steven  caught  hold  of  her.    Quelling   his          resentment for Roger, towering above her and lifting her          chin, he caught her tear-bright gaze.   "That's not fair          on you," he said reprovingly.   "Roger had seduced Paula          long  before  you  ever knew about  it.   You've  become          caught in the back-wash, that's all.             "An unhappy marriage is more than any wife and  mother          should be asked to endure, and this is one with the very          distasteful  side of the after-effects of incest  thrown          in  for  good measure.   Now dry your  eyes."    As  Pam          sniffed,  he went on, "You are about  three-quarters  of          the way home.   Have a lot of faith, see it through  and          everyone will come out of it quite happily, you'll see."            Mentally  crossing  his  fingers,  he  thought,  `Except          Roger.   But then, he did make the running'.                            *    **    *                                  After  dinner, before the family settled down for  the          evening,  Steven  adjourned  to his  bedroom  to  think.            Earlier, Paula and her father had returned from  Roger's          office  and the meal had been eaten in subdued  silence.            Nothing had been said by anyone, but a deaf person could          have detected strain and undercurrents of tension in the          atmosphere.   Particularly avoiding meeting her mother's          eyes, Paula had scarcely spoken to Steven, whilst Roger,          something  on  his mind making him  look  red-faced  and          angry, had stared into space.           Deeply  immersed  in his daughter's  problems,  Steven          hardly  heard the gentle tap on the bed-room  door,  and          Paula  was  in the room before he  really  realised  it.            Wearing  a  button-through grey-and-white dress  with  a          slim  belt  at  the waist, her  long  fair-hair  hanging          loosely  around her shoulders, Paula's usual bounce  and          vitality  was missing, and  sitting on the edge  of  the          bed, she unhappily gazed down at her feet as they  swung          in  space.    Steven  left her to make  the  running  of          conversation.   Finally breaking the silence, she  said,          "I  don't think Daddy likes you any more, Grandad.    He          wants you to leave."           `So  Roger  has  read chapter  two',  thought  Steven.            "And do you want that?", he asked Paula.           "No!    I want everything to be as it was  before  you          came here," said Paula.   "But I want you to be part  of          it and not have to leave."           "And who would be happy if I went?", asked Steven.           Paula's  slim shoulders slumped.   "Only  Daddy,"  she          said.    "Mummy is very happy you are here and so am  I.            I don't understand.   Why isn't Daddy?"                            Feeling a 12 year-old shouldn't know so much, so soon,          seeing  his  grand-daughter's  troubled  face,  propping          himself up on one elbow and picking his words carefully,          Steven turned towards her.   "Because until I turned  up          on  the  scene,  your father had Mummy and  you  all  to          himself",  he said gently.    "Roger was happy he  could          go to bed with you or your mother anytime he wanted, but          now  he is not too sure.   Probably, he feels  he  might          lose you and her, that everything could suddenly change.            And that he might not be happy with the results."           Paula's  oval  face  flushed  pink  with  indignation.            "But  why?    If he can fuck me when he  wants  to,  why          can't Mummy and I do the same?   That's not fair!"           "Because  in  your father's mind, Mummy is  still  his          wife.   And you are still only a 12 year-old  daughter."            Steven's  tone  was soothing.   "Maybe  not  Roger,  but          other husbands and fathers are happy to think they  rule          the  roost,  that the women and girls must  do  as  they          say."            Paula  thoughtfully investigated a mark on  her  shoe.            "Mmm,  Daddy's like that too.  When we are together,  he          makes  me  do things because he likes it.    Mummy  does          things  to me as well, but they are the things  I  like.            Daddy never does!"           As  a downcast grand-daughter swung her heels  against          the  side of the bed, Steven suddenly wanted to  comfort          the  insecure  adolescent  she  was.     "When  we  were          talking  yesterday,  I  told you there was  a  power  of          difference  between sex and love.   Perhaps that is  the          difference."           Paula  looked forlorn.   "Daddy never does anything  I          like.   He says we `make love', and that it is good  for          me  and will help make me a better girl when I grow  up.            But it feels different somehow."  Looking at Steven from          under  shy  eye-lashes,  she asked, "Can I  tell  you  a          secret, Grandad?"              Swinging  his legs to the floor, Steven sat up on  the          bed  and  put  his arm  round  Paula's  shoulders.    He          nodded.   "Of course."           Feeling  guilty she might be breaking faith  with  her          father, Paula hesitated.   "When Daddy puts his thing in          me,  sometimes it hurts.   Really hurts, I  mean.    And          when I ask him to stop, most times he doesn't."             Seeking comfort, she suddenly slipped an innocent  arm          round  Steven's waist.   He gave her a squeeze.    "Then          that's  a downright shame.   When people who  love  each          other  are  making  love, they make  each  other  happy.            They never ever hurt each other."           With   a   slight  frown,  Paula   contemplated   this          proposition.    "Do  you  mean people  do  it  for  fun,          Grandad?   Make love, I mean."           Astounded that something so fundamental had been  kept          from Paula and unexpectedly foreseeing a great,  yawning          abyss  opening up in front of Roger, and unless  he  was          careful,  the  possibility of falling into  it  himself,          Steven  mind ruled his heart.   Postponing giving her  a          text-book  lecture on the deeper significance of  loving          another person, he decided on another approach.    "Why,          isn't it fun when you make love to Roger?"           "Sometimes.   I like doing it, but quite often, I feel          as  though  Daddy's  doing  it to  me  because  I'm  his          daughter,  and not because it is me,  Paula."    Sharing          another  confidence,  Paula's confused  face  looked  at          Steven.    "He's  told me he doesn't like  doing  it  to          Mummy any more.   That's another reason why I hoped  you          would love her."           Even more understanding Pamela's desperate request  of          the morning as a cry for help, Steven inwardly  seethed.            During  the  two  weeks  he had  been  under  Roger  and          Pamela's  roof,  how could he have been so  blind?    So          good was the face of the happy family they presented  to          the world, not one clue had revealed itself that  Pamela          was  so unhappy or that Paula was anything but a  normal          happy,  bright, developing young woman.   "So  when  you          are with your father, what happens?" he asked.           "It depends where we are", answered Paula.   "If we go          to his office, he makes me lay on the floor.   Or I have          to  sit  on his desk and then he does it  to  me  there.            Here  at home, he usually comes in to see me  before  he          goes to bed.   That's when I like it best."           "Why's that?", enquired Steven.           "Because  Daddy isn't in so much of a rush.   Even  at          week-ends,  when everyone is at home, if we are  at  his          office,  he's always worried that someone will come  in.            And if we go out into the country and do it in his  car,          he's  forever looking to see if someone is looking.    I          think  it makes him hurry, because that's when he  hurts          me the most."           "And when you are at home...?"           "It  is usually OK, but if Daddy thinks Mummy  is  not          happy,  when  they  have  had a  row,  he  tries  to  do          everything quickly and get back to her.   But sometimes,          he  just  doesn't  care and stays with  me  all  night."            Paula's voice became unhappy again.   "Sometimes, I  can          hear  Mummy crying, and it makes me sad.   I don't  like          those  times  at all."   She gave a  little  involuntary          shiver.           "And does that happen often?", asked Steven.           "Not so much now, but when Mummy found out Daddy and I          were  doing it, they had lots of arguments.    I  always          knew,  because those times, Daddy would be rougher  with          me and it hurt more."           "How do you mean, rougher with you?"           "Normally,  at  home, when Daddy wants to  do  me,  he          makes me undress and then puts it in me."   Paula looked          at  Steven.  "His  thing, you  know."    Steven  nodded.            "When  we  are  anywhere else, I just have  to  take  my          knickers  down.   Daddy likes it when I do that,  but  I          have  to do it very slowly.   He usually has  his  thing          out  and then he puts it in me.   But when he  is  upset          about  something, he sort of pulls my knickers down  and          does it."           "And is it like that every time?", asked Steven.           "Mostly.    In the beginning, when it all began,  we'd          lay  on the bed and I'd stroke him.   Then he showed  me          how  to suck his thing.   When Mummy started  coming  to          bed  with  us, it got to be very nice,  all  gentle  and          lovey.    She  showed  me  ways  of  making  Daddy  very          excited, but that seemed to make him do everything  much          faster.   But now, Mummy doesn't join in."           "And  does  your Daddy ever make you  feel  lovey,  or          cuddle you?"           "Sometimes, but not often.   If we are out  somewhere,          after he has come, we normally come straight home.   And          if  we  are here, he tells me I need to go to  sleep  or          that  Mummy  might make trouble and he  goes  back  into          their bedroom."           "Does Daddy ever love you?"           Paula looked puzzled.   "What do you mean?"           "Does  he  ever cuddle you or kiss you.  Or  make  you          feel happy?"           "No.    I  mean,  I feel happy  if  he  feels  happy."            Paula thought about it.   "Is that what you mean?           Steven  was  forming  a  picture  of  Roger   severely          overlooking  parts of his daughter's  education.   "When          most  other girls are making love, their lover goes  out          of his way to make them feel warm and happy and lovely.           "How do you mean?"   Paula's interest was piqued.           "There's  lots of kisses and cuddling.  Being  stroked          and  touching  each  other."   Steven  grinned  at  her.            "It's known as `getting in the right mood'.           Paula's  slim shoulders gave a small  shrug.    "Daddy          kisses  me some times.   I like that, but what does  the          mood feel like?"           "Lovely.    Soft  and  pleasant.   Making  love  is  a          lovely  thing, for both people.   Or it should be.    It          becomes  very  dreamy and romantic.    Didn't  you  know          that?           "No.    I've seen people on films and  the  television          doing things like that and wondered what it feels  like.            Daddy  doesn't do that to Mummy, and he has never  shown          me."    Steven could see the gears working.   "Will  you          make me feel like that, Grandad?"   Paula's earnest eyes          pleaded with him.    "Please!"           "Oh,    my   poor   little   Paula."    said    Steven          sympathetically.    "All this time, you have  been  left          out  of the best part of love-making.   Let's see if  we          can't put that right for you."              As  Steven  gently eased her back to lay on  the  bed,           her eyes opening wide, Paula said in a trembling  voice,          "Don't  hurt me, Grandad.   I don't want it to  hurt  me          any more."           "Never,  my little love.   Never ever."     Swallowing          the trace of a lump in his throat, Steven determined  to          eradicate Paula's uncomfortable memories of sex.   "Just          relax and let things happen."             Very pensive, sombre grey eyes looking into his, Paula          didn't  move as Steven's hand started to  gently  stroke          around her face, smoothing over her ears and  shoulders.            As  signs  of sexual arousal flushed her neck,  after  a          little, her eyes closed, her breathing quickening as she          felt  Steven's hands gently slide down the  material  of          her dress, his fingers deftly undoing the top buttons.              As  his  hand slid across her slight  breast,  staring          earnestly  into  Steven's face, Paula's  fawn-like  eyes          flashed open as he quietly kissed her hair and  forehead          but continually kissing her, undoing the buttons one  by          one, he felt her respond as his fingers slid between the          layers of material, brushing her skin.           Gently  running  his hand in small  circles,  becoming          aroused himself as he saw her clear skin stretching away          in  front  of him,  Steven eased the dress  open.    Her          eyes  closed again, Paula suddenly curled an arm  around          his  neck,  and drawing him down to her  lips,  dreamily          murmured "I love you, Grandad."           "I  know,  Paula,  I  love  you  too.    Very   much",          whispered  Steven.    "Just  relax and  let  the  lovely          things  happen.    Let  it flow along."     She  gave  a          little nod and quietly sighed.           Smoothly  undoing  the thin leather  belt,  the  final          button  giving way to a swift twist,  Steven  delicately          laid  back  the  sides  of  the  grey-and-white   dress,           Encased  in a white, girlish-brassiere, Paula's  forming          breasts  evenly  rose and fell with her  breathing,  the          outline  of small nipples clearly showing  arousal.  His          fingers  slowly walking a path towards the thin  elastic          strip of white bikini-briefs, feeling Paula stir beneath          him  as  his tongue touched the warm skin  of  the  arch          below  her breast-bone, he licked  her.    "Everything's          OK,  Paula.    Just  let things  happen  and  enjoy  it.            Let's  see  if we can show you what  this  thing  called          love-making can be like."           Concern  in her voice, Paula asked, "Are you going  to          do me like Daddy does, Grandad?"           Steven smiled down at her.   "No, my love.   I'm going          to  make  love to you."   From the corner  of  his  eye,          still with her eyes closed, he saw Paula relax and  give          a slow smile.  "Yes, please, Grandad.   I'd like that."           "Then   lay  still.   You'll  like  it   very   much."             Deliberately  spending  a long time licking  the  gentle          depression around her dimpled navel, his tongue  working          round  in  circles,  Steven slowly traced  a  path  down          Paula's  body.   As the minutes slid by,  her  breathing          becoming easier and easier, her body only moving as  his          hands  caressed the exposed flesh, his  thumbs  touching          each  other  as they gently slid along the line  of  her          lower  ribs, then to glide up to caress the lobe of  her          breasts.           Taking his time, feeling Paula completely entranced by          the  silky warmth growing within her,  his  fingers  now          constantly  touching and stroking her  breasts,   Steven          discreetly  slid  from the bed, kneeling on  the  thick,          comfortable  carpet.    Still  stroking  Paula's   body,          leaning   forward,   he   gently   licked   her   knees.            Surprised, Paula momentarily stiffened and then, to  his          joy, her legs partly opened.           His  nostrils  filled with the  aroma  of  excitement,          working  up  and  down one leg and then  moving  to  the          other, Steven slowly kissed and cat-licked the inside of          Paula's  thighs.    With  eyes fixed  on  the  alluring,          sharply-contoured  cleft  only  six  inches  from   him,          gradually  easing closer to her vulva with  every  slide          forwards,   her  legs gradually parted.    As  his  nose          brushed  against the damp-stained white material of  her          briefs, under his still-caressing hands, her body giving          a   little   wriggle,  Paula  heaved  a  big   sigh   of          contentment.   "That's nice, Grandad."           Unobtrusively, his tongue and lips coursing the length          of her thigh, as her white abdomen gently rose and  fell          with  her  breathing,  Steven's fingers  hooked  in  the          elastic  of Paula's knickers.  Brushing  his  tongue-tip          around  the backs of her knees and along the top of  her          long legs, quietly tugging, first one side and then  the          other,  he  began to ease them over  her  slender  hips,          until, tightly stretched between her legs, the  wet-mark          on  the gusset showing starkly, they were clear  of  her          body.    Moving back on his heels, casting them and  her          shoes  onto the floor in one slow flowing  movement,  he          slid them over her ankles.           After the momentary disturbance, of their own  accord,          Paula's slim legs drew apart, and massaging her body, on          hearing  a little gasp, Steven smiled to himself  as  he          realised  she had been holding her breath as he  removed          her  underwear.   Dry tongue steadily slithering  across          her  thigh up towards her vulva, sliding his arms  under          her legs, he laid them across his shoulders.   Framed by          the   slight  suggestion  of  downy  light-brown   hair,          revealing   the  fan-shaped  dewy-silveryness   of   her          glistening labia lips, Paula's legs were opened wide.               Reaching  across  her white  thighs,  readily  parting          under  Steven's gently-prising fingers,  her  inner-lips          opened.   Peering whitely from its sheath, betraying her          excitement,  Paula's  clitoris  slowly  pulsed,   whilst          trembling  as  though  alive,  red-coloured  filmy  skin          shimmered at the mouth of her moist, dark vagina.            His  reaching hand constantly roaming her breasts  and          belly, Steven felt Paula's whimpering breath  quickening          as, eyes tightly-closed, she started to pant.              In  one  long, slow deliberate wet  lick,  his  tongue          glided  over the apex of her legs, and as Steven's  nose          slid  across  the  face  of  her  clitoris,  his  grand-         daughter's  buttocks  naturally rose towards him.  Of  a          sudden,  his  long,  pointed tongue  firmly  but  gently          probed  the puckered bud of her anus.   Paula  squealed,          her body arching as his tongue rapidly slid upwards, her          clitoris  slipping  into his mouth. Clamping  it  firmly          between his lips, his tongue flicking its beaded-tip, it          swelled,  lengthening until it was touching  his  teeth.            Letting  go,  pulling  her slim hips  towards  him,  his          nostrils  rubbed  against  her clitoris  as  his  tongue          scathed the intensely sensitive skin of her birth-canal.            As Paula's body began to jerk and squirm, Steven  sucked          and licked, kissing and chewing her vagina.    Her knees          swinging  to  one side and then  the  other,  frenziedly          looking  to  escape the mounting torment,  her  buttocks          bouncing on the bed, Paula's hand tried to push his head          away,  but  firmly  grasping  her  hips,   remorselessly          licking,  mouth glued to her clitoris,  Steven's  tongue          stayed  in her.   Cramming his mouth against the  smooth          gaping flesh of her vaginal-wound, he sucked loose folds          into  his mouth, tongue sliding round them as  more  and          more innocent softness entered him.   Suddenly, her will          succumbing,  her buttocks rising as she drew  her  knees          towards  her  breasts, Paula offered her vagina  to  his          mouth.   Knowing  he'd  mastered her,  slipping  a  hand          between her legs and cupping her buttocks, Steven raised          her  open  genitals to his lips.    Driving  his  tongue          deeply  into  her,  his  thumb  felt  for  her   excited          clitoris.    As it tried to elude him, feeling it  nudge          her  pelvic  arch,  pressing  down on  it,  he  began  a          remorseless  attack.   Under the  cruelly-rhythmic  rub,          rub,  rub, Paula's body again began to writhe and  buck,          her  head  twisting from side to side. gasps  of  breath          coming  from  her open mouth.      Beneath  his  sucking          lips,  running  into his swallowing mouth  in  a  steady          pouring,  her  already-trickling  bitter-sweet   vaginal          fluid began to spurt.               Suddenly,   pulling  Steven  even  closer,  her  hands          sliding round the back of his head, Paula sat up.               Tongue buried deep in her fleshy vagina, snuffling for          breath as soft, slim thighs clamped his head,  realising          Paula was near climax, Steven exhaled deeply.   Dragging          his  imprisoned  finger free, linking  hands  round  her          buttocks  and pulling her tight onto his mouth,   slowly          engulfing  her clitoris and flimsy labia lips, he  began          to  exert suction.   As the vacuum deepened,  a  whining          gurgle  came from Paula's throat as she strove  to  push          her   vagina  deeper  into  Steven's  wide-open   mouth.            Wildly rocking backwards and forwards, grinding her  wet          belly on him, her pelvic bone knockingly-jarred  against          him. His teeth sinking into soft flesh, suddenly tasting          blood,  Steven  sucked  harder as  gasping  and  crying,          tearing  at  his hair and ears, legs locked  around  his          neck, Paula clung to him.              Mouth   wildly  sucking  gasps  of  air,  head   flung          forwards, long fair-hair cascading over her  perspiring,          flushed  face, mewing and grinding her teeth, her  juice          freely flowing onto Steven's lapping-tongue, like a sky-         rocket exploding, Paula came.                 +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+                           ARCHIVING YOUR WORK                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~         Any  Author  wishing to have their work  placed  in  the          Archive  must feel free to submit it.   Any work on  any          subject is eligible for inclusion in any format, whether          old,  new or previously published.    Owing  to  varying          requirements  of both Subscribers and Newservers  around          the world, having to work in DOS, all we ask is that  if          transmitted in coded form, that UUENCODE is used.          Many well-known and often-read authors on the Net  have          been  happy  to  send .TXT and disk  versions  of  their          efforts   to  us  for  inclusion  on  our   list-server,          including Frank McCoy, The Hawk, Rob Morton, Barry Traga          and others.               If  a story is included in "ELECTRA MAGAZINE", based  on          the subscription list for the month in which it appears,          a royalty is paid.         For further details, mail `arch-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'         +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+                               "THE DOORS TO GAYLE'S FUTURE"                             Conclusion                             ~~~~~~~~~~           For some weeks, there was no evidence even that  Gayle          was  alive.   Expecting as she did I'd be away  for  two          months,  I was foolish to even expect to hear from  her,          and not wishing to rake over hot coals, decided my self-         inflicted exile was all for the best.              Life  continued as it always will, and to keep  myself          amused,  I killed the long, miserable hours  by  reading          all   the   library  could  find   concerning   people's          experiences  and philosophies on life after death,  fate          and destiny.     Sometimes reading well into the  night,            acutely aware of loneliness around me, wondering how I'd          ever  got myself in this position when  deliberating  on          some point, I'd find myself staring into space for  long          periods   of  time.     Fearful  of  Gayle's   hurt   or          embarrassment   should  I  do  so,  and  in  any   case,          completely  devoid  of any desire to find  other  female          company, the days crawled by.              Of  the subject of which I was constantly  reading,  I          knew much more than I had, but was no nearer to  finding          any  answer  than  when I  had  commenced  my  research.          However,  reading of many experiences similar to mine  I          came to accept the mental `light' was inherently `good'.            Exampled  by  `dark forces' or `dark  deeds',  when  the          `powers  of  darkness'  were supposed to  be  about,  as          opposed to `dark', anything `light' - light-heartedness,          light-spirited,  even  unto the expressions `I  saw  the          light'  or `light dawned on me' - could only be used  in          the  context  of good being  done,   positive  happiness          created  or the furthering of education  or  experience.            Somehow  deeply relieving concern in me, I was happy  to          finally and unquestioningly accept the strange  feelings          I'd  experienced  were  all for  Gayle's  happiness  and          health.           Affording  the opportunity of having  something  other          than  Gayle  to  think  about,  seriously  contemplating          taking a job of work to occupy the time, tax laws  being          as   they  are  and  it  radically   affecting   Gayle's          investment  income  should  I do such  a  thing,  I  was          strongly  advised against it, and another  avenue  along          which to steer my mind closed off to me.              Far  from  walking  through open  doors  of  Fate,  it          placing  my life in abeyance through refusing to  budge,          I'd  somehow  walked right into this  one.   Undermining          everything as my  leaden heart became heavier, never for          one  moment  wanting  or  needing  Gayle  any  less  but          believing  as the saying goes, `I could live  with  it',          still   positively  regarding  my  decision   as   being          fundamentally correct,  I was desperately unhappy.              Stumped and seeking respite from emotional heart-ache,          I sought out mediums, clairvoyants and others of similar          ilk, and nothing making sense, therefore never believing          a  word  of what I was told, apart  from  convincing  me          there  were  some  very peculiar people  abroad  in  the          world,   such   encounters  only  managed   to   produce          confusion.    Guided by such perfect morality and  legal          correctness,  how could I feel so mentally-strained  and          spiritually-dispirited?      Why   had   something    so          punctiliously-right    turned    so     unhappily-wrong?            Gradually,  a  step  forward on the path  to  Wisdom,  I          learnt enough to realise how little I knew.              But  this  wasting of time being all very  well,  said          Fate, I ordain the opening of another door!           Travelling by train to London one day, sitting  beside          me,  I can still recall every word of  the  conversation          when  a complete stranger suddenly said "Excuse  me  for          asking,  but  are  you by any chance a  student  of  the          Second World War?"              Having  nothing better to do for two hours or  so  and          the  man looking completely innocuous  and  nondescript,          deciding  anything was better than being trapped  in  my          own unhappiness, I replied, "No.   Why do you ask?"           A   short,  lean  man,  the  fellow  smiled.     "This          sometimes happens.   Often when in the company of  other          people,  I  sense things, or pick up what  is  on  their          mind.    Forgive  me,  but  are you  sure  there  is  no          connection  with the last war?"   He sat  forward.    "I          have  this  picture of British aircraft  of  that  time.            Hurricanes,  Tempests, Typhoons; they were the names  of          some of them."   He seemed to think for a moment.    "Or          have you been attached to any kind of Navy?   The  Royal          Navy?    Or  the Merchant Marine?    Any  service  which          would have to accept extreme weather conditions, such as          those named hurricanes and tempests?"              Shaking my head, I said "No, not at all."    Beginning          to  think the man odd, that would have been the  end  of          our  conversation,  save for him suddenly  snapping  his          fingers  and  saying,  "Gale,  that's  the   connection.            Gale!"           Heart racing and now riveted to my seat, I  cautiously          asked, "Well, what about it?"           Observing my sudden interest, the man sat back in  his          seat.    "Ah, then it is right."   Abruptly sitting  up,          he  went on, "Forgive me again, please. It would all  be          much  simpler  if the words came in  direct  terms,  but          these  things  usually have to be  deciphered.    I  was          looking at the names rather than the weather  conditions          they describe.   Yes, that is it!"           My  heart was at explosion level.   "Well, what  about          it?" I repeated, tersely.           "Let's see", the man said.   "Young, bright, walking."          His  brow furrowing, he frowned.  "But only just."    He          stared  at me.  "How very confusing!   A young girl  who          should be skipping around, but who for some reason seems          incapable of doing so.   But then, suddenly can!    Lots          of  surprise  and  amazement around  her."    His  voice          became  concerned.    "Oh, suddenly, there  is  lots  of          unexpected  grief."   Looking harassed, he gazed out  of          the  window.   "Must be something wrong, perhaps  it  is          me."           "Your  right  on  target  so  far",  I  said   grimly.            Desperately,  I looked at him.   "What  else?    Please,          tell me."   Embarrassed, my voice dropped.   "It's  very          important to me."           For  some moments watching the scenery speed  by,  the          man  continued  looking  out of the  window.    When  he          looked  back,  his  whole  demeanour  had  changed.    A          serious  look  on his face, the hair on the back  of  my          neck  standing up as his eyes looked into mine,  I  knew          he knew;  every little detail, the past, the present, of          Gayle and me!              Searching  for  the  right  words,  the  man   coughed          nervously.    "It's  my experience that in  this  world,          love overcomes everything, even good common sense.   And          that once led by their emotions, people find  themselves          doing the most extraordinary things."           His  face completely bland, the man lit  a  cigarette.           "But once certain things are done or said, there can  be          no  going back, there is nothing else to do but  to  see          them  through  to  their  natural,  normal   conclusion.            Having  gone through the door, it must be played out  to          the end."    Fighting down an impatient urge to tear  it          from  his  lips as he drew on his cigarette, I  let  him          exhale.    He  looked at the  cigarette's  glowing  tip.           "What  is  started, must be seen through.    You  became          committed  a long time ago, and you must see what is  at          the  end of the path.   Not for your sake, but  for  the          sake of - er - shall we say, the young lady.           "For  whatever  reason, people cannot  break  ties  of          love.    They try, but they only hurt  themselves.    To          suit  yourself,  you've tried to bend love, or  stop  it          still  and you're reaping the harvest of  the  whirlwind          you've  created.    You  lost sight  of  the  truth  and          deviated from the path.   You are extremely unhappy."           Any  fool could see that.   I bit my lip  in  anxiety.          "What should I do?"           His  eyes crinkling, the man smiled kindly.    Leaning          towards  me,  he said in a quiet voice.    "Believe  me,          there  is only one thing to do."  Seeing  the  imploring          look  on my face, his face compassionate, he  said,  "Go          back and put it right!           "But how?", I exclaimed in frustration.   "I thought I          had."           "Never!",   the   man  replied,  shaking   his   head.            "Anything  which makes love unhappy, makes God  unhappy.            Whoever she is, she deserves better of you, the girl  is          love, and neither she nor you are ever going to be  able          to  get on with life until bridges have been built.   Go          and  put it right, cast your Fate to the winds  and  see          what  happens."   His voice became firm.   "In this  day          and  age, it sounds trite, but please believe me, it  is          nevertheless  true!    This situation is  above  people,          this  is  a matter of Destiny.   However it  looks,  the          core  of  what  you have created is  very,  very  right!            There  is only one more door through which you  have  to          go.   Thereafter, whatever there is between you,  you'll          be creating it in your own time, your own future as  you          go along."           Smiling,  he  leant back again.   "So go to  her,  and          whatever  you  have  to do - ", the  break  catching  my          attention,  I  saw  his eyebrows raise, "  -  mind  you,          whatever  you  have to do, make sure you do  it.    Blow          everything else!              "Have  lots of faith!   There is no danger,  and  save          from your own mind, no problems!"   He looked at me in a          strange  way.   "Although you seem to already  have  had          ample proof of that.   Do you know a medical person, one          who   is  blind,  by  the  way?"   Thinking  of   Gayle,          bewildered by the sudden  question, as I shook my  head,          the words of Gayle's Ward Sister, who'd seen everything,          yet seen nothing, came to mind.   No danger, except what          had been in my mind.   "No, but I believe I know to what          you are referring."           "Good", said the man, smiling.  "Now you know what  to          do."  Relaxing, he smiled.   "I must say, it sounds very          simple."           Great  feelings  of  light-heartedness  milled  around          inside  me, and for the first time in weeks, I  actually          grinned.   "Yes, it does, doesn't it?   And I'm going to          do  it!"    Struck by a thought, I  asked,  "Please,  is          there anything else you can tell me."           The  man  pursed  his lips.   "No,  not  really.   The          words,  the  pictures,  whatever  manner  by  which  the          information  turns up, it's gone now."   As I  began  to          relax, he puffed his cigarette.  "Hold on though!"           Excited and although at that moment, the fellow  could          have  sold  me Hyde Park, icy fingers  slithered  up  my          spine  and an electric buzz rippled across my  shoulders          as,  looking  directly at me, he said, "I  hear  a  very          happy cat."                              Game,  set and match, I gave in.   Desiring to give  a          Cheshire-Cat beam of my own to everyone around me, as  I          planned my next move, the train started to slow for  the          next station.  Leaning towards me, the man smiled.   "If          I were you, I'd think about getting out here."           Glancing out of the window to fix my bearings, I asked          "Why?"           The  man grinned.   "Well, this train goes to  London,          which is east.   She is behind you, westwards."           Three  minutes later, hurrying through the  subway  to          catch  my  connection, it occurred to me I  hadn't  even          asked the man his name.                            **      *      **            Save for a small lamp glowing in the sitting-room, the          house  was  in  darkness.   If everything  had  gone  as          planned,  Grand-mother  had returned home  the  previous          week, and peering through the front window, although the          television-set  flickered, there was no sign  of  Gayle.            A quick inspection proving her car still in the  garage,          positive  she  couldn't  have gone  far  and   taking  a          chance, I set off up the lane.   Reaching the top of the          cliff, searching around in the darkening twilight, I was          unable  to find her until just about to leave,  I  heard          the scrunch of a stone being disturbed.    Following the          noise  and  clambering  down  towards  the   cliff-edge,          sitting on a large rock, I saw her.              Hearing  my approach, recognising me in  the  twilight          but  saying  nothing  as she turned,  watching  the  sea          tumbling  below, Gayle looked away.   Sitting  alongside          her  and  slipping my arm round her waist,  I  felt  her          stiffen.              What I wanted to say wouldn't form properly, and for a          long  while, we just sat there.   Finally, I could  only          express  what  kept  coming  to  mind.    "Gayle,  I  so          tremendously sorry."           Picking  up  a small stone  and tossing  it  over  the          cliff edge, Gayle watched it bounce and ricochet to  hit          the  sea below before replying in a flat,  tired  voice.            "That's  OK, Daddy.   There's no need to be.    You  did          what any father would have done.  It made me want to get          better,  so  I suppose it was worth  it."  She  sniffed.            "There's no hard feeling, I love you just the same."           "But  I told you lies," I persisted.    "Whatever  the          circumstances,  I shouldn't have done that.    I'm  very          sorry."           "Why  be?" asked Gayle, her voice  subdued.    "What's          the  point?    For me, it was a lovely  dream  for  many          years,  it gave me something to work for.   And  on  the          bad  days, something to hold onto.   Why be sorry?"  she          repeated.                           "Because...",   I  started.    Suddenly   tremendously          fatigued, I had to concentrate hard.  "...Because to me,          it was as real as it was for you.   Everything I did  to          you,  it became more and more right.  It felt  good,  it          felt almost perfect."   I shrugged helplessly.   "It was          just - well, right, I suppose."            Scepticism in her eyes, Gayle looked at me.   "It  was          right for us then?   Or feels right for you now?"           "No",  I  said  quickly.   "It's  wrong  for  me  now,          everything.    That's why I've had to see you.   To  try          to put it right.   To say sorry."           Disinterestedly, Gayle looked out to sea.  "Well,  you          have.    So  everything's happy again."   After  a  long          pause, she whispered in a forlorn voice,  "I've sat here          every evening.   Waiting for you to come."           I  was startled.   "What made you think I  would?    I          didn't know myself until this morning."           "Fate,"  Gayle  murmured.    "When  people  have   got          something  going  as  strong as we  had,  it  cannot  be          stopped  just like that, it has to work  out  somewhere.            Mummy said everything would work out right, that I'd  be          very  happy  in the future with the man of  my  dreams."           Staring  ahead  of  her,  as though  she'd  just  run  a          marathon,  Gayle's  breath suddenly  caught.    Sounding          strangled, her words ran together as beginning to choke,          she  said,  "But you were the man, Daddy; I  dreamed  of          you!  Night after night."              Gayle's  voice became miserably tight.   "Now I  can't          go forward, I cannot change the past...I'm all empty and          hung-up  and  there's  no point in  anything  any  more.             You don't want me...and I can't be happy until you  work          out  of  me...but unless you want me,  you  never  will,          there isn't a way..." Tears began to freely stream,  her          sentences punctuated by gasps and heaving sobs.  "...for          my  love  to work itself out, and I'm  going  to...start          crying  in a moment and I don't ever cry  because...it's          me feeling sorry for myself...and I've no right to  feel          that    because...oh,   Daddy,   can't   you    see!..."             Grizzling, sobbing misery reached its peak as my darling          Gayle  whispered, "...I'm so in love with you and I'm  a          very unhappy girl...and it was all for nothing..."            Breaking   her  heart,  Gayle  collapsed  against   my          shoulder.    Unable  to think of anything to  help  her,          feeling  utterly  futile, I silently sat  there  as  she          cried  herself out.   Unseeing, her head in  her  hands,          Gayle  gazed at the ground as the tears fell,  and  they          were  all of my creation.   There could be  little  left          for life to throw at her and at every stage of the game,           she had buckled to, applied herself and beaten the  odds          without tears of self-pity.   She hadn't wanted to walk,          she'd  wanted to walk for me!   By itself, that she  was          sitting  alongside  me was a testament to  her  courage:          that  she  had walked even two yards to  get  there  was          monumental achievement; that she could walk at all  made          people want to cry.           Then  there  was me.   Safely tucked  behind  a  blind          faith which told me something would turn up to solve  my          problem  for  me, day by day, just blimping  along  with          things,  happily  thinking  it  was  for  the  best  and           writing  everything difficult or unhappy-making  off  to          `let's  see what happens'.   "It was all lies",  I  said          absent-mindedly.           Sniffing,  Gayle  reached out and took my  hand.    "I          know, but you meant well."           "No,  I meant the things I told myself.   Did  I  mean          well?    And  if so, for who?"   I sat  up.    "So  busy          doing  what  was best for you sounds good,  but  it  was          nothing  of the sort.   All the time, it was giving  you          what I wanted to give, not what you wanted to have.   It          was  rubbish!   If it was all right for you, it was  all          right for me, but only providing I agreed with it.   But          that's  finished  now, this is where I  make  the  right          decision and make everything right.   It's mine to make,          and until I do, there's no life, there is nothing.    It          goes against all we've been taught, what we've learnt to          respect.    But  there is just the  one  thing  everyone          respects over and above convention.           "Morally, I'll be a blaggard, and conventionally, I'll          be leading you in sin.   There's even a fair-to-middling          chance  I've jeopardised your eternal soul, but I'm  not          the one who makes that decision, thank God.           "For  your  sake, I've done it every which  way  other          people  think  it ought to be, but I can see  now,  they          think they understand reality and then compromise.   But          also for your sake, now I'm going to do it our way, what          we want, and to Hell with the rest!"              Confident and clear-minded now, as I looked at  Gayle,          I  said  firmly,  "If we are right, we'll be  happy  and          they won't even know about it!   And if they are  right,          we'll find out soon enough!   But someone else will have          to  sort  everything out, this is far too  big  for  me.            Until notice to the contrary, you and I together is  how          God intended it, and if He isn't happy about that, He'll          let  us  know.    In  the  meantime,  there's  a  future          together there for us.   If you want it, that is?"           Now no 18 year-old, Gayle's voice was the woman in her          was speaking.   "Do you think it will last?"           "God,  yes.    There's  everything going  for  it,"  I          replied  readily.   "I've just spent the most  miserable          weeks  of my life trying to go against it, and I  can't,          it's   far  too  strong.    Now  I'm  going  with   it."            Standing, I put my hand out to her.  "Coming?"           Making no attempt to move, Gayle looked at me.    "Are          you sure?   You've put so much effort into backing  away          from  it,  I'm  doubtful.   I've learnt  a  lot  in  two          months.    Now  we are talking again, I'm no  longer  an          emotional cripple.  I can exist like this."           Getting  nowhere,  I was talking to a woman  of  equal          years.    Beginning  to feel desperate, I  said,  "Gayle          darling,  the day I brought you here, everything I  said          was  lies.   I'd convinced myself it was the best  thing          to  do, men just don't sleep with their  daughters.    I          thought you'd want to find someone of your own and  love          them,  that you'd eventually see the sense in it.    But          that wasn't true either.   You'd found him and I  didn't          see it.              "This  isn't about what's best for you.  I didn't  see          it  but  for some time, everything has  revolved  around          what's best for me.   The truth is, I can't live without          you.   I've been compromising since I was at school  and          I  can't  compromise any more.   It hurts too  much  and          whatever  I must do to bring you about in my life,  I've          got  to do it.   Whatever the cost and  whatever  people          may  think."   I smiled ironically to myself as  I  told          her, "From that time in the hotel, I didn't see it,  but          it  became whether you could really want me.   The  same          as I lost your mother, as soon as you could walk  again,          I thought I'd lose you.   And if making love to you, I'd          be  forcing the issue; I might have been about  to  ruin          your  future and you'd probably have hated me for  doing          it.   And then I'd have lost you forever.    I  couldn't          make myself believe you really wanted me.   For me."           "Well, I did," said Gayle flatly as she rose.    "Come          on, walk home with me."           Very  uncertain  of her, as we walked down  the  lane,          Gayle  took my arm.   Much comforted, as  we  approached          the house and she said, "When you brought me here, I was          so happy.   Do you want to know why?",  I nodded.           "Because  you'd brought it and fitted it out.    You'd          done  everything.  It was the loveliest surprise  and  I          believed you'd done it for us.   I so loved you for  it,          but  you went so quickly.    I wasn't able to say  thank          you."   Rising on tip-toe, kissing my cheek, Gayle said,          "Thank you, Daddy.   It's beautiful."              Unlocking  the  door, she pushed it wide  open.   "And          there  is another reason why I so love it!      Can  you          see?"           Craning  forward, as Gayle entered and turned  on  the          lights, I looked in.    Glass-panelled doors throughout,          I  could  see right through to the rear  of  the  house.             Neat, tidy and clean, fresh and airy, I looked but all I          could  see was new carpets and the furniture I'd  helped          carry in.   I shook my head.   "I give in."           More  like  my  Gayle,  happiness  in  her  eyes,  she          suddenly  smiled. "The doors," she said.   "Look at  the          doors."           Studying  the front door, and then the doors from  the          hallway to the sitting-room and the kitchen, I shook  my          head again.              "There's  nothing  in it for disabled  people,"  Gayle          whispered.    "No  special  door knobs so  they  can  be          opened from a wheel-chair.   No special handles to  grab          in  funny places.   And no sloping door-step to  get  my          chair  up."   She nodded towards the front door.    "And          look at the paint!"           Realising,  I looked and grinned at her.   "No  wheel-         marks.   Or scratches where your chair bumped it.    All          that time and I never thought of it.   Had I known,  I'd          have repainted them all."           Smiling again, Gayle led me through to the smart,  big          kitchen.    "It wouldn't have made any  difference.    I          would still have known they were there."     Reaching up          on  those long legs for the crockery, she  said,    "Sit          there and I'll make you a drink before you drive  home."            Different to what I'd hoped, brought back to reality, my          heart dipped.              Sipping  a  mug of coffee in  the  living-room,  Gayle          suddenly  asked,  "Tell me, Daddy, what  made  you  come          tonight?"           "Two things", I replied.   "Well, one thing  triggered          off   the  other,"  and  I  told  her  of  the   strange          conversation on the train.   "Whoever he was, he had you          and  the  situation  very clear.    He  pointed  out  my          problem,  and  then gave me the answer."    I  shook  my          head.   "It was most peculiar."           "Not  really,  my  love", said  Gayle  with  a  laugh.            "It's  been  on my mind for two or three days  you  were          going to turn up."   She smiled. "Fate!"           "That or your mother," I remarked.           "Probably one and the same", Gayle laughed.           Happy to open any door but the only one making  sense,          telling  me  details  of her  grand-mother's  visit  and          generally  chatting,  Gayle  seemed  intent  on  letting          things stand as they were and sitting listening to  her,          I was becoming nervous.   Time ticked by and the  moment          came  when any decent visitor, even a father,  would  be          making a move.   Unable to find any break in  continuity          of the conversation to turn it back onto what was on  my          mind, eventually I said, "Well, I suppose I ought to  be          going."           From  the  depths of her  arm-chair,  Gayle  chuckled.            "Now why would you be wanting to do a thing like  that?"            With  heartfelt relief, as she rose, I reached  out  for          her, but slipping past me and smiling, she held out  her          hand.  "Come on, I'll show you to your room."           Close  behind  her as she climbed the  stairs,  as  we          reached  the square-landing and Gayle went to  open  the          guest-room door, I suddenly felt frightened.   If I went          through  it, nothing would change save that I'd  forever          lose  a future.   On a sudden compulsion,  reaching  for          her and pressing her up against the wall, I kissed  her.            Momentarily,  she held back and then, grabbing  for  me,          lips searching, her strong body pushed against me as her          arms went around my shoulders.              Revelling  in  the  strange,  wondrous  sensation   of          feeling her legs pressing against mine, my groin  pushed          into  Gayle as a hand slid under her breast.    Chancing          upsetting her, sliding my other hand between us to reach          for her vulva, she began to rub against it.   Still with          our  lips  pressed noisily together, slipping  into  her          blouse  and  kneading  her  nipple  through  her   silky          brassiere, as my hand tried to cup her soft breast,  she          unexpectedly began to strain, hands pushing at me as she          turned  her face away.   Surprised and lifting  my  lips          from  hers, seeing her chance  to dart to the centre  of          the landing, she wriggled out of my arms.   "No,  Daddy,          it  doesn't  read  like that,"  she  said  breathlessly.            "It's not that easy."           Amazed, I said, "What's up?   What did I do?"           "Nothing!   That's the trouble, it's what you  haven't          done!"    Seeing  my  puzzled  expression,  Gayle  said,          "Look, I knew all about incest when I was thirteen and I          wanted you.   Since then, still wanting you in spite  of          everything, I've lived with incest.   Never sure whether          you wanted me or were patronising me, waiting for you to          be  happy to live with incest, I've wanted you  for  six          patient years;  I've loved you and believed in you,  but          to ease your conscience, you made everything wrong!           "Then  because some stranger on a train finally  makes          up your mind for you, you arrive out of the blue,  think          nothing  has changed and I'm going to welcome  you  with          open arms.   And open legs!           "When  this  all started, you once told me  that  when          you'd made up your mind, no matter what anyone  thought,          you'd do it, but darling Daddy, every move you have ever          made  about me, someone has made the decision  for  you.           You've needed six years to make an instant decision!"              Seeing me prepared to argue, Gayle said, "Think  back!            Right back in the early days, I offered myself to you. I          pushed  you into playing with my pussy, and my  nipples,          remember?"    Watching my face, Gayle saw  memory  flood          back.   "And on that holiday when we found I could  move          my  legs,  I  wanted you to make love to  me,  but  your          precious conscience got in the way.   Just so you  could          tell yourself you hadn't pushed me, or co-erced me, that          I'd  only done what I wanted to do, that it was my  idea          and  you hadn't led me into anything; it was  as  though          every five minutes or so, you were expecting to be taken          to  Court,  and wanted to be able to tell the  world  it          wasn't  your  fault  you'd committed  incest.    So  you          always  parked me to one side and got out of making  the          commitment.               "And  the  first  time  I  sucked  you,  rather   than          compromise  yourself  because  you loved  me,  you  even          watched  me  struggle  to  unzip  you.    I  had  to  do          everything.             "Trusting  your promise you'd make love to me  when  I          could walk across the room, when I came out of hospital,          ready  to start living with you as your wife and  lover,          what  happened?   Who backed away from incest  and  went          home?  And has felt sorry for himself ever since?"           Nostrils flaring, her face tight, Gayle stared at  me.            "God knows, I love you, Daddy and I want to be with  you          forever,  but I'm not going to make it easy for you  any          more, to simply slide into something!   As far as things          between you and I are concerned, the only decision which          has  been  left up to you has been whether you  want  me          enough to forget self-interest and fuck me!             "And  being you, you're going to damned  well  decide,          once  and  for all, because if you do,  then  you'll  be          happy to stand by it.   It's `make up your mind time'!"           Glancing over my shoulder, in a business-like  manner,          Gayle nodded towards the bed-room door.  "So look behind          you,  my darling!   There's a door leading to  the  life          you  have now.    With so little use, there's some  dust          and  stillness, the room contains a comfortable  single-         bed, a chair and a chest-of-drawers.    If you wish, you          can move here with me as my father and that can be  your          world.    No decisions of conscience, no-one to whom you          need explain you're just making the best of being a good          father!   Almost all you need.    Live that life for  as          long  as  you  want  and looking  after  my  father  and          supplying  any other necessities, I'll be happy to  play          the good daughter."            Jerking  her  head  towards  the  main-bedroom   door,          Gayle's  head came up as her eyes challenged  me.    "Or          there's  the  door ahead of you.  That's where  I  live.            Through  that one, there's a bouncy  double-bed,  frills          and flounces, and all things feminine and loving.  And a          warm heart that loves you very much, everything that  is          me!    It also contains my lips, my tits, and  my  body,          everything  I've  got!   That means  lots  of  laughter,          kisses and cuddles.   But it also means lots of sex  and          making love!              "We  might  be caught, or we might get away  with  it.           There's  also  lots of risks and chances in  there,  but          it's  life, it's living, it's fun and it's  the  future!            That's  my  world!  If you want me - really want  me,  I          mean,  that's  the  door you'll have  to  walk  through.             Not to play with my nipples if you feel like it, not for          me  to suck you off every now and again, or for  you  to          lick  my pussy when the mood strikes you.   Not  because          you've  been led, and certainly not because a man  on  a          train  told  you to, but because of your own  will,  you          want me and because you love me.   And because of  that,          you want to screw me."           Slowly,   I  realised  Gayle's  door  and  mine   were          identical.   Opening to her future, it opened onto mine.           Going  through the one leading to my moral, safe  little          life  gave  her  the same.   Although  she'd  walk  with          another  eventually, she'd still be my  daughter.    But          her way of life was still my choice, my responsibility!               Acknowledging six minutes in Gayle's arms and bed was          worth as many years of being confined in the safe prison          my  conscience  had  allowed me to build for  us,  if  a          future  with me was happiness to Gayle, whatever Fate  -          or  her mother - held for us and whatever the  risks,  a          future with Gayle was certainly happiness to me.             So  obvious to her, the Ward Sister at  the  hospital          had  clearly told me Gayle loved me with all her  heart,          and when it thought it would lose her, it was mine  that          had cried.   That's where love lived, and it had  always          known  the answer.   Whatever my decision, who would  be          happy  with it?  Gayle?  Her mother?  God?   The  public          at  large?   There was only one person in whose  eyes  I          had to justify myself and starting the same fatal  tramp          around   morals,   principles  and   scruples,   finally          understanding  the  dangers and problems it  had  always          posed me,  to silence my head, I shook it.                   Because all that mattered was my wanting Gayle as much          as  she wanted me, and whatever anyone else thought,  or          whatever  happened to us, something making me  so  happy          because  from now on, they'd be our doors, suddenly  not          in  the slightest concerned who else was happy about  my          decision,  I grabbed her.   "If you want a  wicked  life          with  an old reprobate of an incestuous  father,  you've          got it!"              Sweeping  her up as kissing me, she happily  clung  to          me,  with my arms under her legs, reaching the  door  to          her  bedroom, Gayle looked at me.   "Can you hear  it?",          she asked.           It  was  quite distinct.   I nodded.  "There's  a  cat          purring."              Six  years before, confronted by a door to a  life  of          sorts, her world in ruins, her useless legs over my arm,           rightly or wrongly, I'd carried Gayle through it and  by          a long chalk, I hadn't made the best of it.   Because of          her courage and determination, out of disaster had  come          a  happy life, and from that life had been born a  love.            Confronted now by the door of future happiness,  pulsing          with  strength and health, the very same legs  over  the          self-same arm gently kicked it open.            Carrying  her  through into her bedroom,  tinged  with          dynamic  awareness as Gayle laid back on the bed,  those          very misty, loving brown-eyes gazed at me as I struggled          to  tear off my clothes.   Knowing it a turn-on for  me,          tanned, shapely thighs appeared as,  deliberately-slowly          lifting  the  hem  of her skirt,  quickly  removing  her          panties, her breathtakingly-exquisite down-covered vulva          revealed   itself   and  in  sudden   slow-time,   those          healthily-white legs parted as spreading her knees - the          same  knees we just couldn't get to bend -  and  lifting          her  feet  onto  the bed, oozing  love  and  wetness,  a          quiveringly-pulsing vagina  opened to me                          Still  gazing at me as I moved between her thighs,  my          rampant penis nudged the delicate fronds of  pink-tissue          aside, and holding my shoulders off with her hands as it          slowly  pressed  into  her,  Gayle's  glove-like  uterus          suddenly contracted as the tip of my penis made  contact          with  her resisting hymen.   Through those  brown  eyes,          lost in the depths of Gayle's soul, I breathed, "I  fell          in love with you when you were thirteen.   And every day          since, I've wanted to make love to you!   I've wanted to          do the most lecherous, carnal things to you."               Straining  up  towards me, softly  kissing  my  mouth,          Gayle  whispered, "You should have, my darling  one.   I          so wanted you to.   Do them for the rest of your life."           Gayle's  to give to whomever she wished, and  mine  to          take  if I wanted, once exceeded, never to  be  restored          and to me, representing the physical limit to which  I'd          been  prepared  to go,  her hymen had  always  been  the          impediment of our union and old life.              And now, it was now the key to the new.            Within  me, a towering, powerful want soared,  to  be          with  Gayle,  to share her tomorrows,  and  nothing  was          going to stop it.   Nestling my glans against that  tiny          piece of tissue, our eyes locked.             Quietly,  Gayle  said,   "You're dealing.    You  call          it!"           Still gazing at each other, lips together, feeling the          willingness  of my penis pushing harder and harder,  for          the  first  time pulling and gripping me closer  to  her          warm  body,  those  strong legs came  snaking  round  my          waist.    Straining  against her vulva,  desire  for  my          daughter's  love instinctively compelled a sharp  thrust          as  she  tensed, and to her  sighing,  `o-oh-h,  Daddy',          feeling  resistance  give, I suddenly  melted  into  her          deep,  fluid  soft-depths.   From father  and  daughter,          piercing  a barrier only millimetres thick  transforming          us  lover  and  lover, the bolts  thundering  home,  the          hesitant door to our past slammed shut.            And a better one, a million times better, swung open.            No more alone and waiting for me to open it for her,  it          was the last of the doors to Gayle's future.                                 THE END                                ~~~~~~~           The Authors:              ~~~~~~~~~~~           Still  wondering  how matters arranged  themselves  so          fantastically,  at  46  years of age, a  result  of  the          incidents  related in his narrative, now well-known  and          with  a respected reputation in the world  of  spiritual          philosophy  and  healing, still  following  the  amazing          `light' which so helped heal Gayle, the Author  lectures          on  the  subjects  on an  international  basis.    Often          appearing  on TV and radio, he has written a  number  of          books of his experiences.                 Then  aged 20, Gayle finally had her game  of  tennis.            Including  the Nursing Sister, watched by  patients  and          Nursing  Staff from the Hospital she'd attended  for  so          long,  chasing him all over the court and leading  by  2          sets  to 1, she was leading in the fourth set when,  for          lack of strength, her ex-surgeon's legs failed him.           Living  as  man-and-wife,with  two  adopted  children,          Gayle and her father currently reside on the South coast          of England.            +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+         copyright: Merrill, Castle & Gray 1996           ANONYMOUS CLASSIFIED ADVERISMENTS         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~           Copy for advertisements carried in the next Edition of          "ELECTRA MAGAZINE" is being accepted NOW.           Commencing  next  month, we have  reserved  space  for          Classified  Advertisements.    ABSOLUTELY  CONFIDENTIAL,          they  can  include ANYTHING whatsoever.    Meet  people,          exchange   or  sell  goods  or  other   material,   swap          information   and  opinions;  the  scope  of   what   an          advertisement can do for you is unlimited.           Space  up  to TEN LINES is FREE.   Remailing  of  each          reply costs $2 (one pound sterling).   For collection at          your  convenience, a CONFIDENTIAL personal post-box  may          be  hired  at an extra  cost of $5 per month  (3  pounds          sterling).           ABSOLUTELY  CONFIDENTIAL means PRECISELY  that;  dealt          with  by machine, contents of replies never come  before          a human eye.              Upon  receipt,  each  advertisement  is  automatically          given  its  own reference number.    Mail  the  required          wording to: `adv-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'           Receipt will be acknowledged.         +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+                       "IN PRAISE OF OLDER WOMEN..."                           Adapted from `Jailbait'                                 by Jack                                 ~~~~~~~           Little  boys are just little boys - `rats  and  snails          and puppy dog tails,' as the old poem goes - but  little          girls are very often merely little women. I'd read about          that young girl named Lolita, who made it with an  older          man,  but  I  assumed she  was  totally  fictional.  She          wasn't,  much  to my amazement and sorrow, and  I  found          that out.            My  wife  of six years and I finally divorced  in  the          winter of '93, and I moved out. Managing to keep my job,          that was about all, but because I'd become awfully weary          of the fighting and tension I, I figured it was worth it          though.            When I'd finally caught her making it with some  young          grunt  of  a  high school football player,  in  our  own          house,  that  did  it. Like the husband  in  a  classic,          French  farce,  I'd come home too early  and  found  her          getting  her  red-headed  brains  screwed  out  by  that          juvenile  jock.  The soft, rhythmic sound  of  expensive          bedroom  hardware should've clued me, but  unthinkingly,          I'd  pushed open the door to see the soles  of  Brenda's          feet  bobbing the air and her fingers digging  into  his          butt  as  with youthful gusto, he was humping  her  down          into the mattress. She was groaning and whimpering,  and          both  of them were too engrossed in the job at  hand  to          hear me enter.            Acting  without thinking, leaping across the room  and           just  as he was coming, jerking that punk off of her  by          the  hair,   before he recovered, I got in a  couple  of          good punches. Then he beat the living hell out of me.  I          was  thirty-two, and in decent shape, but the kid  -  if          you  could call him that - was over six-foot tall,  one-         ninety-five, eighteen years old, and in peak  condition.          Trying to stay conscious, beginning to hurt all over,  I          lay on the floor as, her curvy butt going  jiggle-jiggle          as she ran out of the room, Brenda jumped off the bed, .            And that was that. Filing for divorce, but out of male          pride,  not citing adultery, the court clobbered me  and          bitterness  piled  upon  anger.  When  the  legal  smoke          cleared, I moved into the YMCA and began my new,  single          life.            Boy, did I get a hard lesson in the mating game. I got          teased,  stood up, ripped off and generally trashed  for          six months before I got wiser and wary.            By  June, things were looking a little  better  though          and  I  went  house hunting. Finding  a  nice  apartment          across  town - actually a guest house at the rear  of  a          large  home  - I set up bachelor  house-keeping.  I  had          reasonable   privacy,  and  a  back  entrance  off   the          alleyway, so I hardly ever saw the couple who owned  the          place.  My landlord was a middle aged exec with a  large          computer  corporation, and I think I got a deal  on  the          place  because, trying to finish my degree  in  computer          science,  I  was  back  in  school.    His  wife  was  a          friendly,  blonde,  but we kept it  civil  and  strictly          platonic.            So  all  went well until late June when  their  grand-         daughter, Molly, moved in.    Pushing fifteen, Molly was          tall for her age, red-headed and green-eyed, like my ex,          and  just  past the budding stage. In fact,  she  had  a          fairly  lush figure for a kid, but the trouble was,  she          knew  it. Her breasts weren't big, but they were  headed          that  way,  the  large nipples  making  prominent  peaks          against the material of whatever top she wore. Her  hips          were beginning to take on the alluring, female curve  of          womanhood,  and  her legs were already well  shaped  and          long.            That  much  body, coupled with  surging  hormones  and          juvenile emotions is one very dangerous combination  for          any male in sight. I noticed her shortly after she moved          in and spoke to her, but she responded with a dour  look          and I ignored her after that.            Being  ignored  was something  little  Molly  couldn't          handle  so after a couple of weeks, she  began  flirting          with  me.  Now  it seemed every time I  looked  over  my          shoulder, she was there. I got sly glances, then smiles,          then  I got treated to the sight of her in  a  minuscule          bikini,  and  supposedly to dump the garbage,  once  she          came out of the main house in just her bra and  panties.           I blew it off though until my landlady asked me to tutor          the girl in computers for the summer. I almost said  no,          but she pleaded sweetly and I finally agreed.            So on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, Molly would  come          back to my little place and we'd sit down at my  pentium          for a lesson in electronic data mystique. It went okay -          she was a fast learner - and I tried to ignore the  knee          bumping  under  the desk, the frequent touches  and  the          heady scent of expensive perfume until the third week.            That Tuesday she showed up wearing just a t-shirt with          obviously  nothing  under  it and  tight  short  shorts.          "Oops,"  she  said as she plunked herself  down  in  the          chair  next  to mine, "Sorry I'm late. I had  to  finish          some chores."            Suddenly,  I  was having a lot of trouble  keeping  my          eyes  on the monitor and off the dual rise of  her  bare          boobs  under the thin shirt. Distracted, I  suggested  a          break  and  got  us cokes from my small  'fridge.  As  I          handed her the can, her fingers wrapped around mine  and          I saw she was wearing nail polish.            Sitting  on  the  couch across  the  small  room,  she          crossed her legs to give me a nice shot of her legs  all          the  way  up to her ass.  Keeping my gaze  elevated  and          away from her thighs, all too adult and luxurious, below          the high edge of her pink shorts, I sat across from her.            "Jack,"  she  finally said, using my first name  in  a          disturbingly familiar way, "Maybe you could help me with          a problem, if you wouldn't mind a lot." She paused, then          continued. "I should ask my grandma, I guess, but she's,          well,  kinda older, and I think you might know what  I'm          talking about more. Besides, I can't talk to them  about          it."            "If  it's computers, I can help," I told  her  firmly.          "But otherwise I doubt it."            Molly laughed. "It's not computers. I'm confused about          this boy I've been dating. I know he wants sex from  me,          but I'm, well, getting tired of saying no all the time."          I started to speak, but she held up her hand to stop me.          "I  know, I know, it's awfully personal and  everything,          but  since  I'm probably going to say yes, and  I  don't          want  to get pregnant, I'd be awfully grateful if  you'd          help me get some birth control."            Sweet  Jesus! She was about to get laid and wanted  me          to further her delinquency. I shook my head quickly.            "Please?"  she wheedled, looking under her  lashes  at          me. "They won't sell them to me, he won't get any, and I          don't want to be pregnant."            "Try saying no," I suggested sharply.            She  gazed  at me as if I'd suddenly turned  into  the          pedantic  Caterpillar  from Alice in  Wonderland.  "I've          been saying no," she said petulantly, "but I don't  want          to anymore. He puts his finger in me and I get so  dizzy          and flustered."            Her legs and her emerging breasts dominated my  sight,          and my brain, and I began to picture her naked,  heaving          under some pimply boy, taking his thrusts and moaning in          pleasure.  Sweat dampened my sides and the palms  of  my          hands,  and  worse, I felt an insistent stirring  in  my          lonely penis. "Whoo," I muttered. "I can't do that.  I'd          be  in deep trouble even talking any more about it  with          you."            Molly wheedled again, coming over and trying to sit on          my  lap. I pushed her off and she settled for  squatting          down next to my chair. "Please. I really trust you.  And          you can trust me too. I wouldn't tell anyone, no  matter          what. Please."            I  tried a different tack. "Look, I'm assuming  you're          still  a virgin, and I know it's awfully old  fashioned,          but you might consider staying that way."            She gave me an arch little smile. "You are sort of old          fashioned,  but kind of sweet. What makes you think  I'm          still virgin?"            I  felt a hard, warm ripple through my crotch.  "Okay,          so  you've  already  done it. I still  can't  buy  birth          control for you."            "You  wouldn't  want  a boy to take  me  without  some          protection, would you?" Her hand rested on my leg as  if          to  make  a point, but it was about as  uncalculated  as          Wellington's  campaign against Napoleon. "You  wouldn't,          would you?"            "No," I said in a daze of lust, "I wouldn't."            "Well  then,"  she smiled, "buy some for me  and  I'll          even  pay you back. Or maybe you could loan me  some  of          yours."            I gaped at her in surprise, then comprehension.  Molly          blushed,  and I knew she'd been prowling in my room.  "I          guess you have something like that," she said quickly to          cover her lapse.            I  decided  to  try  shocking her  out  of  it.  Half-         jokingly,  I  said, "I don't suppose you'd  want  me  to          demonstrate them for you would you?"            She pulled her hand from my knee and stared at me, her          eyes going wider. "I wouldn't be afraid if you did," she          said in a low tone, but her expression made a lie of her          words.            We'd come to a turning point and I thought I'd  scared          her enough to where she'd leave me alone after that. But          I  didn't realise just how determined she was. "I'm  not          really  in  love  with him," she said. "I  mean,  I  was          thinking about doing it with him, but I still might  not          if I had someone I really liked better."            I told myself I was trying to scare her off even  more          as  I  said,  "You know just  what  you're  hinting  at?          Talking  to  a  man my age about sex  is  tantamount  to          asking for it. Is that what you want?"            Molly  put  her  chin  up, set her  jaw  and  put  her          shoulders back, pushing her tits against the material of          her  shirt.  "I  might be. Does that  bother  you?"  she          smiled.            I  couldn't see her as a little girl anymore  then.  I          got up and slowly moved toward the door, locking it, and          then  turned back to her. She looked at me  soberly,  no          longer wheedling or smiling.            "Are your grandparents home?"            Molly  shook her head, her eyes fastened on  mine.  My          nice-guy  side  was  screaming 'no,  don't!  she's  only          fourteen!'  but  the  other  side  of  me,  the   horny,          frustrated,  not-so-nice  side, was saying,  'she's  old          enough  and she's no virgin, go for it! Fuck her  little          brains out!'            The horny side won out. I stepped over to her and took          her  hands  in  mine, kidding myself that  I  was  still          trying  to  shock her out of it, and said,  "Okay  then,          let's go to bed."            "Aren't  you going to kiss me first?" she asked  in  a          tremulous voice. I was still trying to kid myself that I          was  attempting  to shock her out of it as  I  drew  her          close  and  kissed her, pressing my  pelvis  tightly  to          hers,  knowing that she had to be feeling the firm  rise          of my swelling penis against her belly. She didn't  back          off  though and I got a very adult kiss  back,  complete          with probing tongue.            That really did it. We side-walked to the couch and in          just a couple of minutes, we were stretched out, my hand          up  under  the edge of her shorts and her  ankle  hooked          over the back of mine.. As we came up for air once,  she          whispered, "You don't have to use anything if you  don't          want to."            I intended to, but just then I was busy pushing up her          t-shirt.  I got it up and I was shocked at how full  her          breasts  were. They were nicely curved and nubile,  with          fairly  large  nipples, now swollen with  excitement.  I          bent to kiss them and she held my head.            "I'm getting all squirmy and tingly in my tummy,"  she          told me.            "Good! Let's get your shorts off." I felt her go tense          again.  "You want to stop?" I asked, the  nice-guy  part          hoping  she'd  say she did. But, no, she  didn't  and  I          helped her unzip and wiggle out of the snug shorts.            Still going easy as I was able, I ran my fingers  down          her  abdomen and pressed them gently into the crease  of          her mons under her underpants. Instead of flinching, she          opened  her legs, making it easier, inviting me,  and  I          discovered that she was slightly damp. I started to pull          them  off  her, but she stopped me. "You  get  undressed          first."            "Why? Are you embarrassed?"            Molly nodded. "But it's okay. I just want to see." Her          face coloured. I sat up and stripped as she gazed at me,          hesitating  a little before I pulled off my  shorts.  My          cock jumped free and I waited for her gasp of shock           But  it didn't come. Almost wonderingly,  she  reached          over  and  touched the turgid length of my  male  staff,          touching the tip cautiously. "It's wet on the end,"  she          observed, repressing a giggle.            "I noticed you're a little damp yourself."            She  lifted  her  hips  and  quickly  pulled  her  red          underpants off. I don't know why, but I was surprised to          see  the  curly delta of woman fur at  her  crotch.  Her          shirt bunched up at her chest, she lay back, moving  her          legs  apart, looking at me. I forgot all about going  to          the  dresser  for  a condom as I moved  up  between  her          spreading  thighs. Now there was no turning back and  no          fooling myself. I was about to fuck her. She sucked in a          hissing  breath as I got into position and  touched  the          tip  of my all too eager cock to the fleshy cleft  below          that thin woman fur.            I pushed a bit, barely parting her labia and she  gave          a sharp gasp and her eyes went wide. I stopped, but  her          hands  pressed the small of my back, urging me on.  "No,          it's okay. Go on."            I pushed again, she gave another little gasp and I was          in  her. I don't know what I had expected but it  wasn't          like screwing a little girl. She lay still, but the feel          of her so snug and warm around my intruding cock was not          so  different  from the way it would be  with  an  older          girl.  I  kept still on her for a  moment,  hearing  her          breathing,  and  after a bit, she shifted,  moving  more          under  me  and bringing one knee up. "Oh,"  she  sighed,          "it's so different."            Pulling  back a bit, I thrust again and this time  she          didn't  flinch or gasp. I took another easy stroke,  she          sighed,  and then I was humping her, slowly stroking  it          to  her.  She became wetter and looser and  I  began  to          believe  she really hadn't been virgin. I  stopped  just          long  enough to grab a throw pillow and place  it  under          her  head, then put her arm around my neck. "How do  you          want me to do?" she asked in a quivery voice.            "How ever you feel like."            Molly  made a tentative movement of her  hips,  biting          her  lower  lip  in  concentration.  "Uh,"  she  grunted          softly, her arm tightening around my neck.            "Bring  your legs up," I ordered and her knees  cocked          back.  "Good. Now just try to move with me." Resting  my          forearm under her neck, I grasped her butt with my other          hand and began to really hump it to her, moving  faster,          plunging  in  and  out in a nice,  steady  rhythm,  then          hammering  down on her until she was grunting  under  me          and  her legs were flopping in the air above  my  sweaty          back. She kept saying, 'oh, oh, oh' as I drove into  her          and I grinned to myself, thinking that kid she'd  fucked          hadn't given it to her like this.            Molly  got over her confusion after a bit and did  try          to  move with me, starting to push her hips back to  me.          In  a  few minutes, the couch springs sighed  under  our          weight  and  Molly's hands were stroking my back  as  we          moved nicely together.            "Are  you going to come?" she whispered thinly  a  bit          later.            "You ready?"            "Yeah."            Lifting my upper body, I drove for a finish, thrusting          hard  to  her, looking down between us to see  my  prick          pistoning in and out of her stretched inner lips. Then I          came, arching up as I burst into her. She went tense  as          she felt my sperm filling her, sucking in a quick breath          and tightening her arms.            Then  came the awful realisation that I had  just  had          sex with a kid. Sudden visions of enraged guardians  and          stern judges filled my brain and cold panic washed  over          me. I came out of it with Molly's voice in my ear.            "How do I know if I came?"            I  pushed  off  of her and sat  up,  icy  with  dread.          "What?"            "It  felt so . . . different. My tits got all hard,  I          got dizzy and my tummy went all swirly inside, like  big          waves and I felt like fainting."            I looked at her, naked, open and flushed, her one  leg          bent  behind  me, the other over my thighs.  "Yeah,  you          could have."            "I never came before," Molly said wonderingly. Smiling          up at me, she touched my forearm. "Am I as good as  your          dumb ol' girlfriend?"            "I don't know. You're too young for me."            "Crap!" Molly snapped, sitting up. "I am not. We  just          did it and we both came, so I'm old enough." She gave me          a sly grin. "Besides, we didn't use anything so I  might          be pregnant right now even."            `God  forbid!'  I thought. "You'd better  get  out  of          here," I told her.            "No,  I'm staying. They won't be back for  hours  yet.          Anyway, you have to do what I say now because you  could          get  in  trouble  for  doing it to me."  I  gave  her  a          horrified look and she giggled. "I won't tell, so  don't          look so scared." She looked thoughtful. "I don't know if          I could stay all night with you, but I can try.  Anyway,          next time we'd better be careful."            `Next time?' I shook my head.            Molly  scowled  at  me. "You don't  want  to  make  me          pregnant, do you?"            "I  don't  even  want you over  here  again,"  I  said          darkly.            "Yes you do!" she snorted. "You liked it. I bet  you'd          even  like  to  do it to me again  too."  Boldly,  Molly          touched my limp cock, still damp with her female  fluids          and  my  semen. "It's all wrinkly  now,"  she  observed,          tracing my length with one finger.            I flinched away but taking my penis in her hand, Molly          pursued. "Can you make it get bigger again?"            I  was  certain  I  was going to  go  to  jail.  Then,          perversely,  I  didn't give a damn anymore. If I  was  a          rotten  child  molester and I was doomed  to  prison,  I          might  as  well  do it right. "You  could  make  it  get          bigger,"  I said in a malevolent tone. Molly gave  me  a          questioning look. "Sure. Play with it a bit and see what          happens."            Hesitating, she tried stroking my still flexible cock,          squeezing  and pulling on it. When I didn't  immediately          become  erect, she stopped. "A grown up woman would  try          kissing it," I advised, wickedly grinning at her.            Glowering  at  my teasing, Molly thrust her  chin  out          defiantly. "It's all yucchy and slimy and I'd puke." She          suddenly  switched  moods again and gave  me  a  naughty          little  smile.  "You think I'm chicken, don't  you?  You          think I'm just a kid. Well, I'm just as sexy as that fat          old  lady  you brought over that night."  She'd  done  a          little sneaking and peeking on me and no doubt had  seen          me balling a woman I'd picked up and brought home a  few          weeks ago.            Before  I could rip her for spying, she scooted  back,          bent over my lap and planted a quick kiss on the head of          my penis. "Poo!" she spat. "It tastes funny." Then  with          an  age  old  instinct, she bent  again  and  cautiously          sipped at the end of it. She grimaced with distaste  but          tried  again, this time leaving her lips on  me  longer.          "Huh,"  she muttered wonderingly. Holding  my  twitching          cock in her fingers, she carefully placed her lips  over          the  head and took a tentative suck. I must have  sighed          or groaned or something because she grinned up at me and          immediately  went down again, sucking harder. In a  very          short  time,  Molly was awkwardly pulling  on  my  cock,          trying to really suck on it right, even using her tongue          a  little. I responded, shifting lower on the couch  and          lifting my hips to encourage her. My cock began to swell          in  her moist, fourteen-year-old mouth and  surprisingly          soon I was coming up to complete erection. I petted  her          hair and her back as she slurped away on me.            "Hah,  did  it!" Molly exclaimed a couple  of  minutes          later,   holding  my  hard-on.  Looking  up   from   her          handiwork, she said, "Do you want me to lie down now?"            "No,"  I  said thickly, "Climb up on  it."  I  thought          she'd  balk  at  that, but no,  she  straddled  me,  her          features  tight  with concentration as  she  grasped  my          resurrected  cock,  raised up and set the  head  to  her          female entrance. She gave a little grunt as she  settled          down  to  drive  it up in  her,  then  squirmed  closer.          Hugging my neck, she said into my ear, "Okay, it's in."            Totally  gone to lust, I kissed her cheek. "Good.  See          if you can come again."            Her arms tightening around my neck,  moving slowly  up          and  down on me, Molly flexed her thighs. It  felt  very          good. I slid wetly in and out as she made short pumps on          me  and I leaned back, letting her ride me. She got  the          rhythm  and  was soon humping me in  fine  fashion,  her          breath beginning to whistle in my ear, her face  flushed          and  her eyes half closed. It was good sex and I had  to          keep  reminding myself that this was a little  girl  and          not some experienced woman.            "I  . . . think I . . . can," she sighed after  a  few          minutes.            "Okay. But hurry. I think I'm getting pretty close."            "Okay.  Uh, yeah." She inhaled sharply, stiffened  and          all  at  once pushed down very tight to me,  her  pelvis          grinding   against  mine.  "Oh!"  she   blurted.   "It's          happening!".            Leaning back as I squirted into her, her eyes squeezed          shut,  her  fingers  digging into  my  shoulders,  Molly          flopped  forward against me, gasping. I could  feel  her          vagina  going tighter on me, grasping my cock inside  of          her.            "Oh,  God,"  I groaned. We rested for a  moment,  then          lifting her off, I moved back and laid her down with her          legs  over  the edge of the couch.  Pushing  her  thighs          apart,  I put my face to her crotch and began to  nibble          at her slick, fleshy folds.            "No," she cried, pushing at my head. "That's nasty! We          just  . . ." But she got quiet as I flicked her  swollen          little  clitoris with my tongue and thrust  two  fingers          deep into her slippery, semen lubed vagina.            A bit later, Molly's legs were around my shoulders and          she  was  shuddering as I knelt on the  floor,  my  face          buried  in  her  cleft.  She  came  again,  lifting  and          whimpering. I pushed back and sat back on the couch.            Molly  lay  there, staring at the ceiling,  her  mouth          open.  "That's  what men do with big girls," I  said,  a          trifle smugly.            Molly  slowly sat up, staring at me. "I'm all  squirmy          inside. My bottom hurts."            "Think you'd want to do it again?"            She thought, then nodded. "Not right away though." She          shivered. "But I can sneak out after they've gone to bed          tomorrow night."            "Better  not," I advised. "Just keep it  for  Tuesdays          and Thursdays, like usual."            "I  feel funny about you doing that - you know -  with          your mouth, right after we did it."            "How would you feel about doing it from the back?"            "In my rear end?" She looked aghast.            "Sure.  Some  big  girls like it that  way,  and  it's          harder to get pregnant like that."            Molly chewed her lip in consternation. "I don't  know.          Couldn't we just use one of those plastic things?"            "Hey,  look, you want to be grown up about it,  right?          Well . . ."            She  surprised me once more by saying, "Maybe. But  it          might hurt."            "I'll do it real easy."            "Okay, I guess. We'll see." She left a while later.            I wasn't sure she'd show up again, but that  Thursday,          there she was at my door. She was no sooner inside  than          she was hugging me, ready to be kissed. "I'm okay  now,"          she said. "You can do it to me, but not in my behind.  I          tried putting my finger in there but I'm too small  back          there for your thing."            With the aplomb of a long time, older girlfriend,  she          dug  through  my dresser and found a condom.  Without  a          trace  of shame or reluctance, she went to my  bed,  got          undressed  and  slid under the covers, waiting  for  me.          When  I stripped and got in beside her, she  kissed  me,          then pressed me back. "I want you to kiss me down  there          first instead of afterwards."            I got her good and wet and warmed with my tongue,  and          when  she was happy with that, Molly pulled me  up  onto          her, parted her legs for me and deftly rolled the condom          onto my ready cock before she brought it to her  swollen          and moist cunt. As I sank down on her, and slid smoothly          into  her, she said, "I'm going to keep on  dating  that          boy  I know, but I won't let him do it, not  right  away          anyhow. But if I do, I promise to make him use one too."            Then proceeding to screw my head off, locking her legs          around me, she bucked and sighed under me until I came.            Laws  and such notwithstanding, some females are  born          lusty  little seductresses. And now that I  think  about          it, once she made her mind up to have me, I don't  think          I ever had a chance.            I was only thirty-two, but she was fourteen, going  on          forty.          +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+         `ELECTRA MAGAZINE' is usually published between 10  days          and 2 days prior to the month to which it applies.         The Proprietors, Editor and Staff of Merrill, Castle and          Gray  accept no responsibility for matters arising  from          the   contents   of  the  Magazine,  neither   does   it          necessarily reflect their views or opinions.         +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+             ARCHIVE NAME:           ~~~~~~~~~~~~           Although   an  excellent  name,  excluding  `The   New          Louvre',  or any derivation thereof, do you have a  good          title for the Archive?           Some suggestions already received have been:                                                 `The Vatican Library'                                                `The Parthenon',                           `Library of Congress'                           `Scherezade Archive'                           `The Boudoir Press'                           `The Great Archive'                               `The Attic'                                 and the                           `Alexandria Library'.          but  apart from not wishing to upset the Pope, and  with          the poetic talent often displayed by newsgroups posters,          we are looking for something a little subtle and  easily          remembered.              In the meantime, M.C.G. have specifically reserved the          title  `The Zoo' for that part of the Archive  available          only to those smoking funny tobacco, the  strong-hearted          or  weak-headed.   When ready, access instructions  will          be sent to Magazine Subscribers.                         FREE COPY           ~~~~~~~~~           FOR the sake of sending an e-mail with your  suggested          name,  the  mailer  submitting the  best  title  in  our          estimation  will  WIN  a FREE copy  of  the  soon-to-be-         released  revised and up-dated best-seller,  `TOMORROW'S          FAMILY?'.    Retailing at $30.00 (15  pounds  sterling),          written  by the family involved, it is the true  account          of  their conversion to incest as a  way-of-life.    The          competition is open to anyone over the age of 18 years.         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~         "Electra Magazine" is always happy to hear from  readers          on any subject at all.         Of what would you like to read?   Can we improve on  the          contents, lay-out and design of the Magazine?                   e-mail: `mag-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'         For all our publications: `list-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'         FRIENDS: Would any of your friends or associates like to          receive  a  FREE copy of the Magazine?  Or  if  changing          your e-mail address, contact:                                `dist-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk'         NEXT  MONTH:          ~~~~~~~~~~~         `Viccy'  reveals more from her `Incest-Help-Line'  mail-         bag.         By  request, a reprint of `Darlin' Daughter's'  10-point          guide to finding TRUE stories on the Internet.         The  start  of the UNPUBLISHED chapters  of  `Tomorrow's          Family?',  the  true  account  of  an  entire   family's          coversion to incest as a way of life.         Part one of `Etienne' by Rob Morton.         News of a PRICE REDUCTION CONCESSION for subscribers  of          "ELECTRA MAGAZINE" to a major binary archive.         and much more, including a section of `Energy For Life',          the  story  of a mother and father  and  their  daughter          Sabine.            And `Charlie', their Red Setter.             +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+        "ELECTRA MAGAZINE" (September)                 copyright: Merrill, Castle & Gray 1996 (UK Edition)          All rights reserved. No part of this publication may  be          reproduced  or transmitted in any form or by any  means,          electronic,   mechanical,  photocopying,  recording   or          otherwise, without prior permission of the publishers.          This magazine is published subject to the condition that          it  shall not, by way of trade or  otherwise  circulated          without  the  publishers prior consent in  any  form  or          binding  or  cover  other  than  that  in  which  it  is          published  and without similar condition including  this          condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.          Merrill, Castle & Gray.          e-mail:ed-mcg@bartra.demon.co.uk -- Distribution ManagerMerrill, Castle & Gray

  
electra_magazine_1996_09