Subject:     My Daughter and Friends
Story Codes: MF Mf oral cheat incest mother daughter
Author:      Dan <whalesrevenge2009@gmail.com>
Posted by:   Kelly <pghpa_girl@yahoo.com>

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                              !!!WARNING!!!!

This file contains sexually explicit material which may include graphic 
depictions of underage, nonconsensual and unprotected sex as well as incest, 
adultery, sodomy and bestiality.  It is distributed on a website clearly 
identified as "For Adults Only".  Possession by a minor is strictly 
forbidden.  If you are not legally empowered to be in possession of such 
material, do not read it and delete it immediately.

This work is copyrighted 2012 to the author. It may be posted to non- 
commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites so long as 
no changes are made to the content and the Author information is retained.   
Any other use of this work is by written permission of the Author only.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Summary:

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

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


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

Hey Kelly,

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

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

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

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

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

But, as you might guess, my uninhibited personality is chock full of 
fantasies.  Why else would I have consumed your website with such enthusiasm?  
Have no fear, you will not get from me, now or ever, a flaming email.  In 
fact, I do hope you take an interest in me.  I would enjoy a regular and 
continuing correspondence with you.  Of course, that's your choice, but since 
you asked directly and repeatedly for feedback on your points of view as 
expressed in your "About Me" section, then I'm only answering your request 
(albeit with great enthusiasm).

I hope you will answer my request to become a correspondent of mine.  In 
fact, I would enjoy the challenge of corresponding about just about anything 
that interests you, and the topic of hand (ethical dilemmas and your position 
on underage sex) was going through my mind throughout my morning workout.  
It's a great way, by the way, to keep your mind off how much you hate doing 
crunches (my abdomen is my chink in the armor, not pot bellied by any means, 
just not as tight as it once was).

But in keeping with the emergence of my uninhibited personality, I would like 
the correspondence to be allowed to be as explicit as the rest of the 
writings on your web page.  Why?  Because, I would like to propose 
"scenarios" and get your comments.  After all, a core set of principals is 
only as good as their manifestation in actual circumstances.  Your father the 
attorney knows that: The law does not really exist outside of the cases in 
which it has been tested.

So, for me to understand your true position, I would like to explore some 
rather explicit scenarios with you.  You must agree with the principal, since 
your ethical dilemmas page is all about scenarios.  They just happen to be 
real ones (I'm taking your word for that, of course).  My scenarios will not 
be real, only fantasies concocted to put the principals you advocate or that 
you DON'T advocate into perspective.  At times I might point out 
inconsistencies I believe I may have spotted.  Of course, you will have every 
opportunity to explain it to me why my perception of an inconsistency is 
incorrect, and I will guarantee you that I will ALWAYS respect your position.  
Maybe we might agree to disagree (that is, whether there is an inconsistency 
or not), but I will NEVER be judgmental.  After all, I've enjoyed the HELL 
out of your website.  I'm not going to call the kettle black!  Really, I just 
want to understand you better.  And by your own admission, some of your 
positions are, well, complicated.  If I, from time to time, make reference to 
the "larger societal position on a particular matter." For example is oral 
sex sex?  Well, you have pointed out more than once that that issue didn't 
turn Bill Clinton's way.  

But having said that, I realize that you make no representations that you 
expect your positions to be accepted by "regular society" which I agree with.  
It IS ample justification, in my mind, for you to keep many aspects of your 
sexual identity, including the real identity of the person stewarding your 
website, a secret from "regular society." I realize that that is not because 
you are ashamed of your position nor are you insincere in your position, but 
since you must function in "regular society" to make a living, and so must 
other members of your family, it is a necessity.  So must I, of course, which 
is why I am using an anonymous email address.  So, to different degrees, 
we're in the same boat.

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

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

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

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

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

Warmest Regards, Dan


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

Dear Kelly,

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

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

But before I get started, let me lead with one thought.  The following is the 
"truth" as I know it and/or can remember it.  Why do people like me confide 
true personal details (even to the point of web-camming it!) to a person like 
you?  There are folks who, if they read this, would know who wrote it.  And 
given your privacy policy why would I go down that path?  It's one thing for 
"Heather" to ask pointedly about including my wife in future chats.  Does it 
matter to "Heather" that even if my "wife" starts showing up in chats with 
"her" (after a decent interval to keep pretenses of the fantasy up), it would 
only be role playing by me?

I don't think Heather would care, or maybe even Heather expects that.  And 
since I'm messing around with all you all for more than just the interesting 
intellectual dialog, meaning I'm ok with some nasty fantasy thrown in the 
mix, then I'm inclined to fulfill "her" wish.  But that's with Heather, not 
with you.  With you, I'm going to stick to the truth as much as possible and 
try not to lie, unless we are ourselves in fantasy land.  For some reason, I 
don't want to lie to you.  If we get to a point where I can't tell the truth, 
I'll just change the subject.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh, no mom."

"Yes Dan.  Come HERE!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"MOM!  TMI!!!"

Ok, so you asked.  Satisfied?

Love, Dan

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Dear Kelly, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I'd rather have a discount.

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

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

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

Amanda says "I'm thirteen."

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

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

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

I'm looking forward to chatting again.

Ciao, Dan


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

Dear Kelly, I knew I had a lot of self-examination to do when I read the 
following embedded in a chat with somebody else: 

From: Jonathan Holland <jonholland71@yahoo.com>  To:  
all_for_girls_dr@yahoo.com  Date: Thursday, January 15, 2009, 2:08 PM  
Subject: Re: sex life 

Dear Heather,

Yes, I know you're right.  The last time we were intimate she just happened 
to get up really early (5 am.?) and I hadn't gone to bed yet.  The bigger 
thing is that there is a disconnect and has been for a long time.  There's  
never been anything dramatically wrong with us, no infidelity (physically), 
no abuse or anything but a lot of the time there isn't a lot right with our  
relationship either.  I put "physically" there because we have both been 
emotionally unfaithful but it never involved actual physical sex.  I'm not 
sure how much difference that makes.  I know we can do better with our love  
life but my heart is tepid.  She is a good person and has many fine  
qualities.  I do think well of her.

Things aren't bad but I know I hold back some.  It's gotten to be a 
comfortable place for me.  Heather is supposedly “counseling” Jonathan and in 
the process he admits what most of us married types hardly ever admit.  That 
each of us make some effort to find people other than our “significant 
others” to give us evidence of our own self worth.  And I don’t mean a pat on 
the back or a little email of encouragement.  I mean participating in the 
well known, tried and true mechanisms of sexual exploration.  Some know it by 
its common name: “flirting.” 

But that is too simple of a description for the vast array of possibilities.  
Certainly, everyone seems to know that flirting of some kind is going on 
regardless of marital status.  Ask a wife, any wife, and she’ll trot out 
plenty of examples.

Or ask Ian Kerner, a sex therapist and relationship counselor with a regular 
column on MSNBC.  He wrote an article posted on September 23, 2009 on the 
subject of internet infidelity.  Here’s his professional definition: 
“Emotional infidelity often takes the form of a flirty friendship with 
someone of the opposite sex, in which many of the characteristics of a sexual 
relationship are present, but without the sex.  At least, for the moment.”  
So what?  Aren’t we getting a bit sensitive?

Splitting hairs, maybe?  Consider this piece of advice from Kelly herself: 
“For guys who “prowl” the malls and think young girls are coming on to them, 
think again.  I was interested in their ATTENTION, not sex.” Ok, then 
attention of a certainly sexual nature is ok, right?  Does it become not ok 
when or if it becomes sex?  Depends, of course.  If one or both (or, shit, 
however many there are) of the partners are having sex but are married to 
someone else, well society says that’s bad.

Society says this in a lot of different ways, but not necessarily through 
criminal penalties (as long as they are consenting adults, of course).  If 
one of those participants is below the legal age of consent, well then, it 
might even get criminal.  But why is attention, rather than sex, the intent 
of this flirtation?

Kelly again: “As I got older I noticed boys – and men, looking at me in ways 
they hadn’t before.  It made me feel good when they did and so I would try to 
dress and act in ways that drew their attention more.  I was interested in 
their ATTENTION, not sex.  I teased because it boosted my ego and made me 
feel grown-up and mature, not with any intent to have sex with anyone.

Personally, I think parents should encourage their daughters to tease at this 
age to build their self-confidence and self-worth.” Sounds mighty logical, 
undeniable, even natural.  But does this process for validating one’s self 
worth end?  Should it end right after “You may kiss the bride!”?  Or how 
about when delivering on Meatloaf’s formula for getting some by the glow of 
the dashboard lights: “I’ll love you to the end of time.”?  Does the need for 
this attention ever go away?  Is it realistic to assume that it should only 
be drawn, like funds from a bank account, from the account numbered “my” 
husband or wife?

Ian Kerner cites an expert in his field to warn those of us in relationships 
of the danger: “According to the late Shirley Glass, whose book ‘Not Just 
Friends’ still remains the classic treatise on the subject: ‘Emotional 
affairs are characterized by secrecy, emotional intimacy and sexual 
chemistry.  Emotional affairs can be more threatening than brief sexual 
flings.’”  Well, our culture often makes taboos out of such things.  Why not 
emotional affairs, too?  But making it taboo hardly changes the root causes, 
and thus may have little impact on people’s true behaviors.  Indeed, the 
taboo may make it MORE appealing, especially when secrecy is inherent to the 
process.

But what of the root causes?  “Needing emotional support” is something the 
ladies write about a lot.  If husbands always seem to be complaining about 
sex (or lack thereof), it seems equally so that wives are complaining about 
not getting enough emotional support.  Nobody’s perfect, but does everybody 
wait for perfection anyway, just in case it might show up tomorrow night in 
bed?  Do I need to answer that question?  Isn’t it natural to go beyond our 
significant other for emotional support to validate our self-worth?  The 
whole concept of “family” is the obvious starting place for obtaining a huge 
amount of this daily need, which makes the “empty nest” syndrome no laughing 
matter.  I dread it myself.  But with only a very few exceptions, the kind of 
emotional support that ministers to our sexual identity does not come from 
immediate family.

Kelly herself places long odds on this being the right approach for most 
people.  In fact, as many people know, the word “ego” was coined by Freud in 
response to his interest in individual perceptions of self worth.  And he is 
often reported (rightly or wrongly) to have felt that sexual identity was the 
root of all self worth.  Ego came from sexual neediness.  It was a powerful 
idea at the time it was made.  Natural selection was the philosophy on the 
rise.  And obtaining sex was such a struggle in the natural world that it 
could not be separated from the human experience, we were told, regardless of 
countering religious ideas.  So do we all solicit some of that emotional 
support for our sexual identity from total strangers?

For most people this is the PREFERRED source.  After all, for the most part 
we select our sexual mates from the large pool of unrelated individuals.  
That most of us don’t view our mates as strangers does not mean they didn’t, 
by necessity, start that way.  And the VERY FEW times that I have been 
literally picked up by strange women in bars (or at least they tried), I felt 
like I was being plucked from the “fuck a stranger” barrel.  A most bizarre 
feeling it was, the few times the experience washed over me.  And I rejected 
them all.  But why should it be unusual?  The speed of the plucking must have 
been the only reason it felt bizarre, because, after all, the idea is for the 
mate to start a stranger, and then become an ardent, and finally an intimate 
supporter of the other guy or gal.

Eventually, it is hoped it might even become unconditional love, which is 
more often reserved for offspring than it is for spouses.  The former were 
NEVER strangers, the latter by necessity started that way.  So, even after 
the selection has occurred, and the rings are on the fingers, the kids in the 
cribs, and joint bank account created, there is still this searching for 
sexual identity through the person of strangers.  A “study” reported on MSN 
sometime in the past stated what ought to be obvious: Women said they were 
more likely to be attracted to a man who clearly conveyed that he was 
attracted to the woman.  This explains why flirting is often mutual, but does 
it explain the motivation, the fuel if you will, for flirting?  No, the 
search for regular attention to the need for our sexual identities to be 
confirmed and validated seems to be the real motivation.

Perhaps a spouse can completely deliver on that need.  At least in the early 
stages of the relationship, that might be true.  But experience shows that 
over time in the average marriage, neither partner’s needs are fully met by 
the other.  Who is surprised by that?  We’re only human.  But is flirting a 
violation of relationship rules?  Is there “harmless” flirting?  If so, when 
does it become harmful?  I’ll bet the average woman in a long-term 
relationship will guard the answer to that question carefully.  They seem to 
know it when it happens, and then there is hell to pay!  But the word 
“jealous” cannot be defined outside of the personal standard that triggers 
it.  For some, it’s a dangerously low standard.  For many others secure in 
their relationships the bar is considerably higher.  It can be described by 
the popular wifely idiom “I don’t care where he gets hungry, so long as he 
eats at home.” But is this sometimes just the calm before the storm?  The 
naiveté that makes the irony of the betrayal seem that much more tragic?  And 
isn’t it true that many a relationship has been shattered, at least in the 
harmony of trust, because of the discovery of a “conspiracy” in progress that 
has not yet consummated itself with adulterous sex?  You bet your shorts, 
honey!!!

Ian seems to suggest that to avoid this disaster, you can’t have ANY secrets: 
“As an example, I have one password for all of my various e-mail accounts and 
my wife knows what it is.  Does she ever use it?  I doubt it, but she’s 
welcome to sift through my e-mails anytime she likes.  That’s what trust is 
all about: having nothing to hide and being able to respect each other’s 
privacy.  One can’t exist without the other.” So, the question becomes, when 
are those that do not condone something guilty of hypocrisy nonetheless 
because they are participating in a process that may lead to what is not 
condoned?

To borrow an analogy from an unrelated struggle in the Baptist denomination, 
when does a religious conviction against the consumption of alcohol become 
compromised beyond repair?  The first sip of wine?  After the entire glass?  
How about half the bottle?  Or maybe opening a bottle and serving it to your 
non-Baptist friends at a Christmas or New Year’s party, but not drinking any 
yourself?  Just when is it no longer ok?  You have to be a little older to 
remember from firsthand experience the day President Jimmy Carter made 
headlines for “admitting” to having lusted in his heart.  This set the 
country in a tizzy.  Did this mean all of us were to be ashamed, like the 
president, for flirting?  How about looking at that gorgeous set of tits on 
that secretary that just can’t seem to come to work without the slut clothes 
on?  Watch out!  Don’t look if you’re wearing a ring!  (I once had to deal 
with a situation not unlike this with my employees.  It was painful and no 
fun.

I heard the gossip that some of my employees thought I hired her to fuck her.  
My wife even told one of them that “My husband is not fucking that tramp.” 
I’m glad she was right!) What were we to make of this leader of ours?  Were 
we to follow his example?  Not follow it?  Why did it have to be so 
confusing?  Maybe it would have helped for the country to have actually read 
the longer excerpt of what Carter was quoted by Playboy Magazine to have 
said: “Because I'm just human and I'm tempted and Christ set some almost 
impossible standards for us.

The Bible says, "Thou shalt not commit adultery." Christ said, I tell you 
that anyone who looks on a woman with lust has in his heart already committed 
adultery.  I've looked on a lot of women with lust.  I've committed adultery 
in my heart many times... This is something that God recognizes, that I will 
do and have done, and God forgives me for it.  But that doesn't mean that I 
condemn someone who not only looks on a woman with lust but who leaves his 
wife and shacks up with somebody out of wedlock.

Christ says, ‘don't consider yourself better than someone else because one 
guy screws a whole bunch of women while the other guy is loyal to his wife.  
The guy who's loyal to his wife ought not to be condescending or proud 
because of the relative degree of sinfulness.’ “ Not any less confusing, 
perhaps, but neither are the notions of free will, original sin, and 
forgiveness only within the context of Christ’s delivery of salvation.  One 
makes one’s owns standards, I suppose, and then makes up their own mind to 
live within them.  The consequences may be both earthly and divine, but we 
will face them whatever they are.

Kelly appears to agree: “These are the principles that guide my behaviors.  I 
am not trying to judge or condemn anyone for cheating on their wives - indeed 
some of my favorite guys to chat with are doing exactly that!” This leads to 
her flexibility in declaring what she is and is not condoning when it comes 
to adultery: “Understand that I define "sex" as the physical mating of a male 
and female  (insertion of a penis into my vagina to be technical) so that 
leaves a lo open!  Now before anyone writes me to complain, once again you 
have to  remember that I do not consider incest to be "cheating".  After all, 
I am  the product of my parents' marriage and thus will always be a part of 
it.” Well, other than the little matter of the law, and that most of the 
modern Western society’s’ moral codes defines this as a major taboo, well, 
beyond those minor matters, have at it Kelly!  Why not indeed?  I “have at 
it” on occasion, too.  It just doesn’t rise to the same level on the “wow” 
scale as Kelly.  But what of it?  Does that mean I shouldn’t feel shame 
nonetheless?  Or not, if it pegs as “harmless” on my personal meter?

In fact, to put me (and a lot of other people) squarely on the same limb as 
Kelly (just closer to the tree trunk, maybe) let me describe a couple of 
scenarios.  One left me feeling like I had let myself down, almost as if I 
had committed actual adultery (I didn’t).  And the other is almost comically 
harmless.  We’ll start with the “harmless” one, if Ian will grant me that 
assumption for the moment.  How about this little past time I’ve been 
enjoying for years in church?  It falls most closely to Kelly’s tease-in-the- 
mall game, but it proves that it can be a team sport.  I play the game with 
my “playmate.” I recall having had three or four over the past several years, 
one at a time.  It’s not important how many or whether they played the game 
exactly the same way.  After all, for me, it was about MY self worth.  And it 
has never been the main event in my life.

To the contrary, even the opportunity to play the game comes and goes.  And I 
don’t go to church for the game; I’m in church to satisfy the first 
commandment.  But, let’s be honest.  When I do have a playmate, oh do I look 
forward to playing!  So here’s the game.  I live in a college town.  That 
means thousands upon thousands of young people come to live in my town every 
year and stay here until they graduate or leave short of that.  Some attend 
services at my church, the vast majority do not.  So every year there are 
young ladies who show up for church service who are not, that I can tell, 
hooked up and certainly not married off.  Most of these young woman waste 
little time finding somebody.  Some came to this university because they 
already have somebody who came here (amazing how many of those flunk out).  
But there is often one or more that for a combination of reasons, isn’t 
paired off.  Some of them seem more in need of validating their self worth 
through habitual flirting than others.  They’re the ones that seem to people 
watch more intently.  

 Maybe in the process looking for someone looking at them.  Someone male.  
When you see this week after week, year after year, it’s really not that hard 
to spot, and then pick up a playmate.  I’ve never known the name of any of my 
playmates, and I only saw one of them outside of church.  That was at the 
university.  She was attending a class that I happened to be guest lecturing.

So to illustrate the game, let’s look at this past Sunday, 20 September 2009.  
In fact, I would never have thought to write about my game until this past 
Sunday.  Some, after reading this episode (assuming anyone other than me 
actually does!), may even sneer that it’s all in my mind.  Well, there is no 
doubt about the reason why I play the game.  It’s because of what it does to 
my mind, not to my dick!  Having said that, the kind of content that Kelly’s 
Diary contains, and all of ASSTR for that matter, seems to make my game 
appear ridiculously innocent.  But, after the game went awry this Sunday, I 
realized it was worthy of recognition.  While my game is a very low level 
flirtation behavior, it seems to me to be every bit as representative of the 
larger game that so many take to sexual adultery.  Through thinking and then 
writing about my game, I saw much more clearly the motivation for adultery, 
and in particular Kelly’s pursuit of married men.

So, let’s walk through last Sunday.  As usual, I dropped the family off at 
the front of the church and headed for the parking lot.  As I came into the 
church, I headed for our likely outpost.  People are remarkably constant 
about their church seating.  Jokes are a plenty about unwritten seating 
assignments, etc.  My family is no different.  Actually, my father-in-law is 
more often than not the guy that anchors the family pew.  And lately his 
choice is a back pew on the left center section.  To get there, I have to 
make a turn around a wall and then along the back pew.  As I make the turn, I 
notice my family is in the spot that has fairly recently become “ours.” And, 
for the game to be played, the playmate must sit close by.  The playmate is 
also already seated, conveniently, right in front of my family.  How 
convenient, indeed.  Looks like we might “play” this morning!  I’m happy.

As I make the final turn to the entrance of the pew I start assessing my 
seating preference.  I could plop down right close to the entrance to the 
pew, sitting next to my daughter.  Playmate will be easy to see and be seen.  
Or, I can step over a bunch of legs to slip into an open seat between my wife 
and an attractive Asian woman next to her.  The open space is not large, but 
not cramped either.  Lately, my thinking has been to make an effort to sit 
with my wife.  So, I decide to make the effort.  Playmate looks up at me as I 
enter the pew.  I notice the look, but choose not to do my usual confirming 
look, with a slight smile usually added in.  I got legs and feet to avoid, so 
I defer the look.  I navigate the legs and feet and settle in next to my 
lovely wife.  She’s happy and I’m happy.  She’s questioned me in the recent 
past about why I seemed to avoid sitting next to her.  She’s noticed my 
behavior, especially now that the kids are older and the father-in-law moved 
us to a more accommodating location.  I know that the impact of an obvious 
change in my seating on the playmate was on my mind, but what could that be?  
Playmate’s a subtle flirt partner, NOT a mistress, right?  I have a lot more 
to gain by showering attention on my wife, and that is my plan going forward.

My wife knows that’s my intention, and she has even recently told me that 
she’s been enjoying the extra attention.  But we have 5 minutes or more to 
kill before the service begins.  Why not play a little with playmate if she’s 
willing to play?  She is.  With time to kill, people-watching is fun.  
Playmate likes to watch the front.  It requires her to turn in her pew, twist 
her head and look.  I get involved when the head turns more and her eyes come 
my way.  Contrary to popular opinion, people do not have eyes in the back of 
their heads.  To look backwards takes effort.  It’s obvious.  I try to reward 
the effort with a casual look directly in the eyes.  It happens every week.  
I’m used to it.  I enjoy it.  I even look forward to it.

We study each other’s facial expression.  It sounds juvenile.  It probably 
is.  But even if I can’t read playmate’s mind, like the Alan Parson Project’s 
“Eye in the Sky,” I can sure read her face.  Anybody can.  Look at your 
emoticon menu.  It’s called body language.  People make a science out of it.  
Playmate looks down, checking me out (hey playmate, there’s nothing done 
there but pants and shoes!).  Playmate has taught me why women always know 
when we’re looking at their tits.  It’s obvious.  But as I read on-line once, 
when looking at a woman that you want to FEEL you emotionally, always, 
ALWAYS, look her right in the eyes.  That’s what I do.  She’s satisfied and 
turns back forward.  So far, so good.  As the service drags on, playmate 
scans back from time to time.  Sometimes I try to catch her eyes, sometimes I 
ignore it.  Don’t want to creep her out.  It’s mild flirting, not staring.  
Gotta discipline myself, sometimes, on the difference.

But, so far, it’s about typical.  We’re killing time supporting each other 
emotionally, however subtle and limited it might be.  I’m convinced it’s 
happening because I feel the support from her.  It’s fun for me.  Isn’t it 
harmless, too?  But my wife is next to me.  There’s potential fun to be had 
with her too.  And this can be more explicit, less subtle.  I look at her.  
Nice cleavage in the cute black top.  She says she wears stuff like that for 
me.  I believe her.  And anyway, I like it.  I also like that she often wears 
that cute silver necklace that I bought for her in Greece.  The pearl plunges 
on a thin silver chain toward her cleavage.  It’s sexy.  I lean over to her.  
She leans over toward me expecting to hear a whispered comment on a routine 
topic.  Like “That’s too bad that George Forman’s 90 year old uncle died, 
what a tragedy!” Or “Is it just me, or is the Klaus’s teen daughter 
pregnant?”

Instead, I lean over and say “Sexy girl!” My wife’s head moves away with a 
twist of the mouth and an angle of the brow that says “why are you being 
naughty here?” You see, that’s a phrase I’ve been using during love making.  
In recent memory, I can’t think of a time when I’ve said that to her outside 
of that context.  She thinks and then gives me a wily look.  “You just like 
this top!” Knowing I’ve scored points, I added “Not just that, I love that 
necklace I bought you in Greece.  It looks great with that top.” She smirks 
at that and turns back toward the service.  Before I do the same, I take one 
more look at her and her pretty blond hair.  I know I have one more intimate, 
insiders, factoid to use.  You see, I know that she dyed her hair last night 
before coming to bed.  Only a husband would know that.  I lean back over to 
her.  “And anyway, every guy likes to sit next to a hot blond!” The irony of 
that insider’s joke is not lost on her.  She screws her head up with an open- 
mouthed gawk trying not to laugh out loud.  “Gotcha!” I think.

My own head twists the opposite direction and upward so that it’s 45 degrees 
past the front in the opposite direction with my chin 15 or 30 degrees above 
normal.  My mouth is twisted in a lecherous toothy grin.  I’m enjoying the 
overt and intimate exchange with my wife, especially because we are ignoring, 
however briefly, our pious duty to worship, not mess around!  It’s not quite 
Kelly’s antics in church, but hey, everyone has their own thing.  In my 
peripheral vision as my head swivels to this un-natural position I spot 
playmate’s head shaking around.  What’s that?  A double hair flip!  I hadn’t 
seen one of THOSE since that bar in Panama City!  Hmmm, what’s that about?  I 
see her head has turned to the “look at me” position.  In my slowly ebbing 
remaining mirth, I decide to swivel my head back to normal and catch her 
thoughts.  As I settle on her eyes, still with a hint of smirk on my face, I 
realize that playmate is not going to look away.  Wow, looks like playmate is 
getting almost reckless.  So am I, I decide.

I lock her gaze and read her face.  It’s not the normal slack faced receiver 
of attention.  No, not at all.  What do I see?  Jealousy?  No, not quite 
that.  Reproach?  Yes, that’s it.  Reproach.  I’m being scolded!  How do I 
know?  The furrow of the brow, I decide, that’s it for sure.  “Ha!” is my 
initial reaction.  Now I see one of the advantages of the game: Nothing 
verbal.  That’s right, playmate, only my wife can rip me a new one verbally.  
Finally, she breaks and slowly returns to face the front and the service.  
The game, I sense, is over for now.  It’s not unusual as the service 
continues into the complexity of the various rites for the game to peter off 
anyway.

But now I realize that playmate is off line.  It seems as a result of the 
event.  But what did she take so personally, I wonder?  Before discovering 
Kelly’s Diary, I may never have had a clue.  After all, if she can’t verbally 
scold me, then I sure can’t ask her what’s bothering her, now can I?  But I 
think I have at least a plausible hypothesis.  Kelly’s motivation for her 
affairs with married men is my clue:

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

Could it be true, in a much more sedate way, with playmate, too?  Is playmate 
not just interested in getting flirtatious attention from me, but to PROVE 
it’s real, could she actually expect it to come at the expense of the 
attention I give to my wife?  I thought about my seating arrangement 
controversy that had worked its way out over the last couple of months.  For 
years, my father-in-law and my children pretty much choreographed our seating 
arrangements.  But recently, with my kids often busy playing a role serving 
in the service and having otherwise matured, they were to the point where 
they were just as happy to let my wife and I sit together.  No, they have not 
“disowned” us, it’s just that they can sit around their grandfather and do 
not have to surround my wife.  But, then there was the influence of 
granddad’s seating choice.

For a reason not important here, he usually selected a favorite spot that 
when the tail-end-Charlie (me) arrived from the parking lot it always left me 
with a choice of my usual opposite end of the family seating (meaning not 
next to my wife) or falling off the end of the pew but next to the wife.  I 
had been happy to take the opposite position, and playmate was usually 
sitting where we could play.  If truth be known, I liked it better that way 
because I thought I was pretending to be “available.” Meaning unattached.  
How ridiculous!  Plenty of people in that church had seen my kids baptized as 
infants and knew my wife well.  Nobody thinks I’m unattached in that place.  
Not even playmate.  But I was thinking like a man, not like an intelligent 
person.

It did not occur to me that I may have been communicating to playmate a lack 
of desire to give my wife attention, and that maybe, just maybe, she liked 
that.  One person whom it was not lost on was my wife.  She had started to 
jibe me gently about not sitting with her.  And when the kids started to make 
that less of an ordeal, she would say things like “Do I get to sit with my 
husband?  Wow, isn’t that nice.” And jazz like that.  I got the message.  And 
frankly, I enjoyed the desire on her part for a little attention from me.  
Who wouldn’t?  But, I had the falling off the end of the pew thing going, and 
I had playmate.  So, I made a fuss about the end of the pew thing.  She 
became aware of my problem with that and cut me some slack because fixing it 
meant moving her father and my kids down the pew after they had settled in.  
She didn’t want to stir the nest.

I eventually did.  I started making them get up and move down to give me some 
room.  Does that sound like a mountain out of a mole hill?  Maybe so, but 
you’d think I had come in and stirred up a hen house.  The hens were clucking 
and feathers were flying.  The jokes about “I lost my warm spot” started to 
get old.  Finally, my father-in-law decided that we should move.  The reason 
for sitting there in the first place had gone away (another unrelated story).  
He could afford to move us.  So, we moved.  Not far, just down the same pew, 
whenever squatters hadn’t already claimed our new seats.  The new location 
was opposite of where playmate usually sat.  And it eliminated the end of the 
pew problem for me (whether I liked it or not!).  That’s why my only issue 
now was climbing over legs and feet to get to the spot next to my wife.

After our move became “official” in the eyes of the people that pay attention 
to that stuff (took a week or two), I noticed a curious thing.  Playmate 
moved too.  Hey, way to go playmate!  I love you too!  Well, at least I love 
our game.  That’s why when I walked into the church and made the turn to our 
“new” spot last Sunday, September 20, I was pretty sure that playing the game 
was a possibility.  Playmate’s seat allowed me to play the game sitting at 
the end next to my daughter or the other end next to my wife.  I chose to sit 
next to my wife and braved the legs and feet.  As ridiculous as it may seem, 
that was my decision making process as I approached the entrance to the pew.  
I could play the game AND sit next to my wife.  Sounded optimal to me.

But I hadn’t counted on the “reaction” from playmate.  That caught me 
unprepared.  It would still be a mystery to me if I hadn’t at least thought 
about the parallels between this and Kelly’s motivation for fucking married 
men.  Strange.  Maybe very strange.  The reader of this, assuming somebody 
reads this other than me, may be shaking their head.  “What bullshit.” But I 
was there.  It didn’t look like bullshit to me.  Maybe the game is over.  
Maybe playmate will move to the other side of the church.  If she does, well, 
I understand.  I’m going to keep sitting here.  We’ll see.  I decided to see 
if I could make it up to playmate.  Near the end of the service, we have a 
ritualistic greeting to your nearest neighbors.  I’ve always enjoyed it 
because you get to greet the hotties as well as the suits.

In the past, it did seem to bother playmate a little when I gave my wife a 
peck on the lips instead of the handshake for everyone else.  But not enough 
to end the game or even to get a “scolding” by “emoticon” from playmate.  
This time, given her proximity, I made a special effort to greet HER.  I went 
straight for the eyes.  She accepted my look, and we held it almost 
noticeably too long.  It was a pretty slack face I looked into.  The reproach 
was gone.  But in its place I thought I read “I’m not sure I trust you” 
impassiveness.  I tried to offer an apology by body language; as difficult 
and as improbable as that might sound.  It helped being able to hold her 
hand.  The fact that she accepted my look, right hard in the eyes and held 
it, told me there was hope yet for the game.  We’ll see next week!  If you’ll 
accept my story as real and don’t vomit from its juvenile character, then let 
me ask you: Is this kind of emotional infidelity harmless?  That to me is the 
interesting question.

Ian Kerner might not agree that it’s totally harmless: “The No.  1 danger of 
Internet infidelity is not that it could lead to actual sexual infidelity, 
but that it so easily diverts precious emotional resources away from one’s 
core relationship.” When I was a much younger man, and thought women think 
like men, I would have ridiculed that assertion.  But, I have to admit the 
feeling that it may have happened to me, even if just a tiny bit.  And it was 
not just me feeling that way.  Remember, my wife and I had a rather involved 
(but friendly) multi-week go around about sitting together in church, and I 
knew that at least one reason was my concern about the impact on playmate and 
our game.  If I had told her about that, I’m sure she would have thought 
about having me committed.  But, hey, I KNOW what was going through MY mind.

You see, I thought sitting with my wife would hurt my “relationship” with 
playmate even if I thought it would for almost certainly the wrong reason.  
It didn’t at first.  It didn’t really matter that I was sitting next to my 
wife, because we often played the game anyway.  As late as this last Sunday, 
in fact, we were still playing the game.  That is, until I made the “mistake” 
of showing playmate that my wife and I would share a very intimate moment in 
front of her, even if she did not know what it was about.  It was just too 
obvious that we were sharing soul satisfying emotional support, and playmate 
perceived it coming at her expense.  At least, that is what I think.  I may 
never know for sure.  Maybe I should be committed for believing it, but I 
don’t think so.  I would never have written about this episode in the absence 
of the above lesson, experienced by me in person this last Sunday.  It’s so 
innocent.  How could it possibly rate mention among experienced ASSTR readers 
used to getting their kicks from stories about fucking five year olds?

Well, none of that here, but that’s beside the point.  In my mind, and maybe 
with a trained professional like Ian Kerning to back it up, I began to wonder 
if maybe, just maybe, Kelly’s short flings with married men, terminated 
habitually after one fuck like some black widow spider, might be “less 
harmful” than my almost imperceptible emotional infidelity.  It sounds 
incredible to me to write that last sentence.  I’m not sure I even believe it 
yet.  But I can see that it could be true, if continued to the necessary 
level.  So what of another episode, a long time ago, that STILL did not 
produce sexual adultery, but that left me emotionally scarred over my 
behavior?

Well, that’s next.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dan


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

Note from Kelly:

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

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

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

Dear Kelly,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love, Dan

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

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

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

Dear Kelly,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kelly (10:46 PM): little cuties, I think sometimes about you and them 

John (10:46 PM): oh really 

John (10:46 PM): what do you think about 

Kelly (10:46 PM): picking one out for you 

John (10:46 PM): mmmm 

John (10:46 PM): and 

Kelly (10:46 PM): keeping her after school 

Kelly (10:47 PM): so you could fuck her in my classroom 

John (10:47 PM): young and hot 

John (10:47 PM): and me fucking her right on your desk 

John (10:47 PM): her parent with NO idea 

Kelly (10:48 PM): while I sit on the end and masturbate for you 

John (10:48 PM): that would be so fucking hot 

Kelly (10:49 PM): there is one that is so cute 

Kelly (10:49 PM): you would love her 

John (10:49 PM): what's she look like 

Kelly (10:49 PM): reminds me of Alicia which is why I think she is so hot 

Kelly (10:49 PM): naughty little grin 

John (10:50 PM): how old is she 

Kelly (10:50 PM): just turned 11

Key facts:

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

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

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

Kelly (11:44 PM): actually, the real reason it turned me on was imagining it 
was you and Alicia 

John (11:45 PM): would you like to see me fondle Alicia while she sleeps 

Kelly (11:45 PM): omg yes 

Kelly (11:45 PM): seeing your dick growing as a sign of your lust for her

Kelly escalates John’s lust, confirming her desire, not just his.  Are we 
dangerously close to the “Hypocrite’s Hypothesis?” But now she grows wary, 
retreating to a question, rather than an admonition.  The retreat keeps the 
“Fee Will” Hypothesis a viable option.

John (11:46 PM): knowing I want my dick in her 

Kelly (11:46 PM): you want that bad, don't you?

John (11:46 PM): fuck yes I do 

Kelly (11:47 PM): would you like to fuck her right now?

John (11:48 PM): I would love to have a cam hooked up and having riding my 
cock on cam so you could watch 

Kelly (11:48 PM): are her pajamas easy to take off tonight?

John (11:49 PM): yes 

John (11:49 PM): loose elastic waist 

Kelly (11:49 PM): pull them down to her knees this time

Is the above sequence Kelly at her best?  Escaping a “Hypocrite’s” fate in 
the nick of time all in the face of serious lust?  It would seem so.  Careful 
naughty girl!!

And, then, the grand finale:

John (12:13 AM): would you get turned on watching me fuck that little one  
you are sending me pics of 

Kelly (12:13 AM): mmm, yes 

John (12:13 AM): not just saying that to please me are you 

Kelly (12:13 AM): I don’t do that 

John (12:14 AM): I know... just teasing you 

Kelly (12:14 AM): I would love to just watch 

John (12:14 AM): see me between her tiny thighs... my dick slowly  
disappearing into her little baby cunt 

John (12:43 AM): and I want to share my daughter with you... I really do 

Kelly (12:44 AM): I know, that is what makes it even hotter for me, that you 
really do

Pure “Free Will” territory here.  Kelly is back in her safe harbor, 
encouraging by asking questions or acknowledging her understanding of what HE 
wants to do; but not directing the show.  As the chat closes, veiled language 
is used.  

Kelly (12:44 AM): so now tonight I want you to show me 

John (12:44 AM): mmm ok

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

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

1.  No obvious or certain departures from your “core reality principles”   
(CRP’s, yeah, I know, shitty acronym :) ) were observed by you during   the 
course of the relationship.  You saw no evil.  2.  No obvious advocacy on 
your part for departures from your CRP’s.  While you came awful close, you 
are an experienced pro at getting   absolutely as close as possible to your 
erotic reality show without   crossing the line.  You spoke no evil.  3.  You 
did not chat with a previously known pedophile.  Despite the best   and most 
vigorous efforts of the FBI, a state or federal prosecutor,   and expensive 
legions of shrinks, this guy was cleared of being one.  You don’t have to 
assume on your own authority that he was/is one.  You heard no evil.

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

Luv, Dan

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

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

Dear Kelly,

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

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

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

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

Love, Dan

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

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

Dear Kelly,

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

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

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

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

Kelly: "Ever masturbate with your son in the room?"

Mike: "No, never."

Kelly: "Well, strip for me then."

Mike: "LOL - OK"

And of course, the rest is history: Following no nonsense instructions from 
Kelly, in which she could see cause and effect before her very eyes, the 
young son gets to smoke the magic cigar and claim the jelly toast (minus the 
toast, of course).

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

1.  Receiving oral sex from children (just a rite of passage, so Kelly   
says); and 2.  Returning the favor with a large dose of sperm delivered 
anywhere   convenient on the child’s body.  To be fair, I’ve merely assumed 
this   to be ok after Kelly wrote that “It also provides the men with the   
opportunity to satisfy their needs.” Well, we can guess what THAT   means.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kelly: "Rub your cock on Justin's face and lips."

What more to say?  There is nothing more.  Ideals hacked to get what she 
wants.  But what judgment does this behavior deserve?  That kept me up one 
night.  Should I censure her?

“Kelly, you bad, bad woman.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love, Dan

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

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

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

Dear Kelly,

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

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

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

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

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

Love and kisses always, Dan

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

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

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

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

[Prologue: Departing from past practice, I’m rolling the next four dilemmas 
(5- 8) into one commentary.  Why?  Well, even though each has its own unique 
features, there is always at least one common thread that ties them together, 
at least in Kelly’s mind.  How do I know?  Consider the following questions 
or comments: “Was it right to encourage him to start an affair?” “This 
started out as yet another guy unhappy with his marriage, especially his 
wife’s lack of sexual interest.” “It’s funny how here was a married guy who 
was actually GETTING laid by his wife and STILL, he wasn’t satisfied.” “In 
retrospect, I think that what he REALLY wanted was to meet me and that 
somehow he thought that telling me about his daughter and doing naughty 
things regarding her might somehow turn me on enough to want to meet him.“

What’s the common thread?  Either outright implication of an adulterous 
relationship, or the warning signs there in.  Each question or comment comes 
from one of the four different dilemmas, as Kelly describes them.  Now, we 
could get wrapped around the details of each, but why?  They’re all kinda 
boring in themselves, so why bother?  What’s NOT “boring” about them?  Well 
that’s in the eye of the beholder of course.  And who might that be?

It goes without saying that for most of the fucked-up perverts going to 
Kelly’s website, my commentary would get a quick scan followed by at least a 
subliminal “when does the five year old get fucked in the ass?” question.  
Finding that subplot missing, they are already two websites down the line.  
So, I have no illusions about who might read the crap that follows: me and 
Kelly.

And I’m probably kidding myself about Kelly.  So why should I bother?  Well, 
the topic of adultery transcends all else in the enigma that is Kelly.  
Attacking this question is rather intimidating and captivating at the same 
time.  Reading Kelly’s FAQ, among other things, leaves one believing that 
Kelly is practically a white-dress bride eager to get on with the soul mate 
thing.  But then the caveats begin.  And don’t forget the rationalizing!

Does Kelly have two agendas?  No, probably three!!!  So what else can your 
friendly commentator do but waste an evening, or two, questioning this 
question?  In fact, my early morning weight lifting has two parts: The 
sweating against gravity with the muscles, and the sweating against Kelly’s 
logic with the gray matter.

Beyond the Kelly enigma issue, there is the importance of the topic itself.  
After all, for all the shock the flaming “wives” express once they “find out” 
what the hub has been up to with Kelly (i.e., dreaming of teens and preteens, 
usually closely related ones at that) does anyone believe that most of this 
is anything more than fantasy?  Kelly suggests we take 99.9% of it as 
fantasy, but considering her well documented addiction to the “real thing,” I 
don’t know for sure what to think about that 99.9% number.  But what I can be 
virtually certain of is that in this country divorce is the main family 
wrecking institution, not child abuse or incest.  When it comes to “harm” to 
children, divorce can be compared to auto accident fatality statistics, while 
child sexual abuse to airline fatality statistics.

In other words, child psychological trauma due to divorce is endemic, while 
psychological trauma due to sexual child abuse is by comparison negligible.  
In fact, I might hazard a judgment: The underage child “sex” promoted on 
Kelly’s website can be ignored in the context of society’s concerns.  But her 
role in events leading to adultery is a potentially serious concern.  Why?  
Because the encouragement to commit adultery is much more likely to be acted 
upon.  And when found out, the vaporization of the family unit is often the 
collateral damage.

Now, I know I promised not to be judgmental, but since I might be the only 
one reading this, I originally planned to craft a “story” that would end the 
commentary with a stark reflection on Kelly’s participation in adulterous 
affairs.  But, my own real life schedule prevented me from writing so 
creatively so quickly, and how fortunate for me that it was so!  Because, 
when I finished reading Kelly’s September 13 update, I knew she had taken 
real life well beyond my little story.  I was happy for her.

Kelly had faced the face of the betrayed wife.  And that wife told Kelly just 
how she felt about Kelly’s role in the affair.  Whether she was right or 
wrong, or maybe only half right, it does not matter.  Kelly heard, felt, and 
is now on her own to consider what all that meant.  I am a pauper compared to 
that.  But is this all there is to talk about in these four dilemmas?  Just a 
trip to the woodshed for Kelly?  Why DO I read Kelly’s stuff?  Why DO I pay 
any mind to her ideals and her stern convictions, offered so often as 
challenges?

Consider this from a recent chat I had with her: “Kelly: Outside of silly 
chats where I provoke people, have you ever read where I promoted incest when 
the daughter is older and nothing sexual had ever happened before?” The 
answer is no.  But what about a young lady that says she does not condone 
adultery, and then makes it clear that participating in the act of adultery 
with a married man produces intense feelings of self worth; which translates 
into the most intense of sexual pleasures.  So much so that she becomes 
compelled to beg for it?  (And I’ve seen begging for sex, so I know it 
happens.) 

Is it any wonder that these behaviors of hers show signs of an addiction?  
Given her own actions to deal with her dilemma, I no longer felt the need to 
address the “golden rule” with Kelly.  But, as has been the case in each 
previous commentary I made, I knew I still needed to turn the microscope on 
everyone else just to see if we really are all that different.  Take me, for 
instance.  I can claim nearly 25 years of marriage without any slip ups.  Oh 
really?  Is that strictly true, I asked myself?  What IS a “slip up” when it 
comes to marital infidelity?  Are Kelly and her latest married lover alone 
out on that limb?  Or are virtually all of us somewhere on that same limb?

For sure, some may be closer to the tree than others, but aren’t we all birds 
of the same feather?  And if we are, what does it say about the “natural” 
tendency of men and women to have feelings about our own self worth and then 
to pursue external validation of our self worthwhile constrained by these 
promises we make in relationships?  While reflecting on these inescapable 
tendencies, I decided for my own sake to explore what at least one of Kelly’s 
correspondents called being “emotionally unfaithful.” 

Could that include me?  Is it natural to be unfaithful in at least tiny 
little ways?  Does it matter?  If not, why should it matter then if it occurs 
in a big way (i.e., full blown adulterous sex, pun intended…)?  If it does 
matter, then who can throw the first rock at Kelly?  The logical dilemma 
filled me with hours of thought; and so I started almost clinically 
cataloging all of my potentially “emotionally unfaithful” activities.  Even 
this past Sunday morning.  In church.  Read on, if you give a damn.]


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next time...


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kelly: oh?

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Kelly,

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

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

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

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

Xxxx, Dan


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

Hey Kelly,

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

Dan


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

SCENE 1
=======

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

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

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

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

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

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

What could I say to that?

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

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

Mom blushes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"K, mom.  YOU start, ok?"

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

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

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

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

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

Kelly,

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

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

Love and gnite, Dan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Here you dirty fucking slut, smell yourself." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 SCENE 2
=======

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey sweetheart, why the rainy day look?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Baby.  Great!  Awesome!  Nice!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With her legs flowing around either side of my waist, it meant that her 
small, hairless pussy was laying straight down on the next place it would 
touch.  Her pussy lips were literally spread around my semi-hard cock.  It 
was semi-hard because of the fabulous hand and blow job administered by her 
mom, with Kari's help.  Now I was relaxed, not pent up.  I had the sanity and 
presence of mind to just hold the little girl against me.  And she did the 
same to me.  Her arms wrapped around my neck while mine covered her back and 
gently stroked her butt and legs; straying from time to time up her back.  I 
looked down at her and she up at me.  Our noses touched and we kissed and 
smacked lips in an absent minded way while exchanging a few words back and 
forth.  Kari's murmur was that of a young girl experiencing the pleasure of a 
soft touch and warm embrace.  But unlike the familiar experiences of her 
youth, this now came from a man who was intent on making it an erotic moment.  
Her pleasure at finally experiencing what girls her age and younger had been 
gossiping about seemingly forever was palpable.  Like nearly all girls her 
age, she was constantly questioning her self esteem, certain that some other 
girl that she envied was receiving this exciting experience whenever she 
wished, all because the "other" girl was prettier, more comfortable with 
herself around boys--and men--and was in turn desired by boys--and men--above 
herself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was impressed with her wish to continue referring to me with the modern 
version of what a polite kid says in reference to an adult.  At least she 
wasn't calling me "Mr.  Dirty Old Man"!  "Look, since you are the one who 
usually helps her with that over there..." I gestured toward the MILF in the 
process of masturbating herself to orgasm "why don't you call her over here 
and we'll help her out together.  How does that sound?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey Mr.  Dan, need some help?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE END

  
Dan - My Daughter and Friends - MF Mf oral cheat