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DISCLAIMER 

Part of a comprehensive anthology, this is a  collection 
of   veritable   `confessions'  transcribed   from   the 
`privileged'  files  of  various  professionals  in  the 
psychiatric field including analysts, psychologists  and 
psychiatrists whose clientele have graciously offered us 
verbatim  accounts of their experiences. Therefore,  the 
names have been changed and commonalties are evident  in 
that   the   narratives  all   depict   graphic   sexual 
`"revelations'  wherein  the  participants   experienced 
carnal  aberrations  marked by  uncharacteristic  sexual 
perversion and/or gluttony. 

It  is  also important to note in  accordance  with  the 
analytical  summary of the specialist, that  the  events 
described  --  while  shocking  --  are  indicative   of 
incidental factors relative to psyche and  circumstance; 
and  that  the clientele have since  completed  remedial 
efforts. 

  revel:  v.  indulge in keen delight (esp  festive  &amp; 
  sexual) 

  revelation: n. a striking disclosure or discovery of 
  hidden truth 

"THE DADDY PAPERS"
 
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Case: #561 
Name: Karen Houser 
Age: 21 

  As a new mother...and new widow...I felt for Dad  when 
Mom died. The whole thing was like a horrible  nightmare 
at  the  time. I had only had Justin a month  when  Greg 
died at the hands of a drunk driver. I thought I'd never 
stop grieving and the entire time I persevered, both mom 
and  dad were there for support and I am amazed to  this 
day that I simply just did not die myself. 

  Those  fourteen months were agony not just for me  but 
for my parents...they had liked Greg and our son - while 
not  aware of the loss - seemed so much more sad  in  my 
arms  at night as I fed him and tried hard to smile  and 
laugh with him. 

  Babies  are a blessing - this one just happened to  be 
the blessing I needed at a time I loathed. 

  Thank God for my parents and the friends who helped me 
through   those  times.  My  grief  support  group   was 
invaluable  at helping me repiece my life  together  and 
having  to move back home for financial reasons  at  age 
twenty  was  not  simple  for  us  three  but...it   was 
nostalgic. 

  It was just when the nightmare got by us and it seemed 
as   though   things  were  improving   that   Mom   got 
sick....diagnosed with cancer - a month or less to live. 

  She  barely  made  those 30 days though,  and  it  was 
strange...there was not the horror or grief for her that 
there  had been for Greg...maybe because she  seemed  so 
peaceful  about it...so content with the life  that  she 
had. She was not by any means old...41 is certainly  not 
prime-time for death...but oddly, both Dad and I  sensed 
a  sort  of  comfort when  she  finally  passed...not  a 
happiness...just  a  sense of relief that  she  had  not 
suffered horribly and that we could cry at our loss  but 
be moved by her peace. 

  So  it  was  that  Dad and I  wound  up  a  couple  of 
surviving  relatives  and  slowly  getting  things  back 
together.   Dad   was   not  afraid   of   showing   his 
feelings...he  cried...but he was also a strong man  and 
saw  no reason to wallow....he knew that Mom would  have 
been best respected by not dying with her. We both  took 
this principal to heart as we started to get out again. 

  He started to go to local ball-games again with  Mitch 
and  Wally  (his  best friends for years  now)  and   no 
longer  tormented  by  the  jealousy  of  their  present 
husbands, I started visiting old friends. 

  And Justin was turning one. 

  What a wonderful time!!! 

  That  was  when that old memory started to  bother  me 
again. A peculiar memory about which I was never certain 
how I felt...and sometimes as an adult....was certain it 
had  been  some  bizarre dream or hoax  of  my  youthful 
imagination. 

  But  illusion or not, as it had been many  times  here 
and  there  in my late teens and after Greg  and  I  got 
married, it was there again.

  When  I  was about fourteen, I had been working  on  a 
project  for  a  local academic fair....a  sign  for  my 
project  or something or other...and my marker ran  out.  
Out  in  the  yard,  Mom and  Dad  were  barbecuing  and 
laughing  at some radio program so I'd decided  to  just 
help myself to Dad's office and his office supplies. 

  Dad  had  a huge desk upon which he sometimes  laid  a 
long blotter so that he could work at his models of  old 
cars  and I loved the smell of the hickory and the  feel 
of  the leather chair.   Loving nothing better  than  to 
steal in there whenever I got the opportunity, I'd  spin 
in  that  chair and savour the smell of  everything  and 
wonder what lurked in those drawers. 

  Dad did some writing on the side and sold some of  his 
stories  to local publications...stories of his youth  I 
simply  never could bear listening to in whole...and  so 
there was always a stack of paper on the desk-top and  a 
basket full of waste. 

  After  finding  the  markers, I'd  sat  in  the  chair 
spinning  around, listening intently for the  coming  of 
either  of my parents as I was not supposed to  trespass 
here without permission. I could hear them still out  at 
the  porch barbecuing and I could smell  the  hamburgers 
cooking and everything seemed wonderful. 

  As I had an occasional tendency to do, to see what  he 
was writing but not finding anything promising, I'd  dug 
into the garbage pail, then noticing some crumpled pages 
at  the  bottom  which  seemed  to  draw  me  by   their 
concealment,  I'd fetched them out.  Hearing  my  parent 
call  for me, I'd panicked and running through the  back 
entrance  to the kitchen, round to the foyer and up  the 
stairs, I hid them under my pillow. 

  Then back down I went. 

  Later that afternoon, when Mom and Dad went for a walk 
with  the  dogs (two very cute matching  terriers  named 
Fickle and Pickle) I enjoyed what I rarely had -  twenty 
minutes with the house to myself. 

  With lots of cupboards above a window-seat and  ladder 
that  slid back and forth for me to climb that  Dad  had 
built,  I  had a great room for  hiding  things.    Even 
though  it was still a bit girlish for a  fourteen  year 
old,  I liked it..it kept me feeling young and  innocent 
even though my mind was just unravelling the wonders  of 
sex  and lying and cheating (I had copied off a  friends 
math test once and felt terribly guilty for it). 

  Innocence going...going.... 

  Anyhow,   knowing full well there was nothing to  see, 
but  pleased  with my petty thievery and excited  by  my 
successful getaway, I retrieved the papers.

  Only  there was something to see....something  to  see 
indeed. 

  Expecting the usual, `When I was ten...blah  blah...', 
I  read  it unwittingly, but discovering  a  frightening 
tale  of  a fourteen year-old daughter  her  father  was 
starting to fantasise about, and though feeling horrible 
about     said     fantasies...still     found      them 
instead....arousing. 

  I'd  never  thought  of my father  that  way  and  the 
reality was just much too frightening for me to  digest, 
so I did not get far into the story before I was shaking 
and feeling overwhelmed. 

  Hiding  the  papers in one of the very  top  cupboards 
where I knew even I rarely looked, stuffing them into  a 
box of old Barbies I no longer played with...I just  sat 
there wide-eyed. 

  GOD! 

  I know I felt uncomfortable around Dad for awhile, but 
somehow,  I  just forgot about it.  Sometimes,  the  old 
memory would flutter back into my brain but for the most 
part  it  was  a dream I had,  a  strangely  erotic  but 
frightening dream. 

  Thinking  back now, I think I was as  terrified  about 
how it made me feel as I was about how it made HIM feel. 
Children  aren't  supposed to feel  those  things  about 
their  parents  -  I  had  hardly  felt  them  all  that 
thoroughly about boys I knew at school, my age. 

  Anyhow,  the  only times it seemed to come  back  were 
those times when Dad and Mom would be admiring my beauty 
and  Dad would say something like, "You sure have  grown 
into  a gorgeous young woman,"; it would crop up out  of 
nowhere  and I'd feel that same blend of  eroticism  and 
fear and then it would be gone. 

  Sometimes,  I would look into the mirror at my  blonde 
hair  and  blue eyes and admire my slender  and  shapely 
figure  and  think how it was true. I was  pretty,  very 
desirable. And I guess Greg had thought so too,  because 
he could barely wait until our wedding night. 

  But then, it would all slip away and life would go on. 

  And the years passed. 

  And  now I was thinking about it again and  the  house 
felt  empty  without anyone but me: Dad out at  a  game, 
Greg gone, Mom gone, Justin with Greg's parents for  the 
day. 

  Not  sure  if I had left that box of  Barbies  or  had 
thrown  them out, out of curiosity, I went into my  room 
and  getting on the first rung of the white  ladder  (it 
still  held me), I opened that cupboard.  Even though  I 
was only 21, it all seemed so long ago. 

  To my surprise and sudden anticipation,  just where  I 
had left it that day, the box was still there. 

  Were those papers really there? Had I thrown them out? 
Had it all been some dream? 

  But  the fear and eroticism of this secret  seemed  to 
excite  me  and  I felt  suddenly....alive.  Almost  too 
terrified  to open it, I took the box down  and  opening 
it,  there beneath the Barbie dolls, even more  wrinkled 
from my handling of them that day when I shoved them  in 
there, were those papers.  

  Pulling   them  out  gently,  I  lovingly   eyed   the 
pages...the words. 

  Yes. This was it. This was that story, and now reading 
it and realising how well it was written, I knew it  was 
indeed  his style (as I now loved and admired his  work) 
and  yes...there was no mistaking...this was  my  father 
and me in this story. 

  Terrified  again, just as I was when I  was  fourteen, 
but  able  to  handle  the  graphic  images  of   carnal 
indulgence, I was much more fascinated.  In fact, I  was 
able  to mostly put aside my other complicated  feelings 
and really become aroused by it all....somehow imagining 
the people in this story...as people no longer my father 
and myself, but people we once were. 

  And admittedly, I think it aroused me more than I  had 
ever been aroused before. Ever! 

  Putting  the pages and the box back, I spent  most  of 
that day thinking about the whole thing in my mind,  not 
savouring the story but instead the thinking behind  why 
my  father  wanted to so passionately have sex  with  me 
when I was fourteen.  From what I knew, a normal  father 
with a healthy sex life, he had no other strange  sexual 
problems.  I  was  pretty then...sexy  I  suppose  in  a 
way....boys  seemed  to  like me and I  knew  there  was 
talk...boys  making up stories about me. But I was  pure 
as  the driven snow....that's what  Greg  said....that's 
what turned him on so much...that I was so....sweet. 

  Was that Dad's attraction? I had wondered a few  times 
if all fathers didn't have this secret urge to do  these 
things  with their daughters. Did they? Was my dad  just 
average that way? 

  Had it been just a phase? 

  Anyhow, these were the things I wrestled with that day 
and by bedtime, I was glad to get back to the pages  and 
reread  them again, this time allowing myself  a  little 
less  room  for  morality so that I  could  get  aroused 
enough  to masturbate (something I had only  done  three 
times  in my whole life, all of them being after  Greg's 
death when I was sexually frustrated). As I did, my head 
was filled with the images of the story...this girl..who 
had  been  me...eagerly  performing  oral  sex  on   her 
father...once my father. 

  GOD!  Horribly  mixed with guilt and shame,  parts  of 
those  feelings blended into the excitement and  somehow 
made it more arousing. 

  Afterwards, with the arousal quelled, the whole  thing 
seemed awfully silly and I laughed a bit. Elektra I  was 
not!! 

  But  the next four days were not much different.  Life 
was  `normal'  enough,  but in the back of  my  mind,  I 
started  wondering if Dad still saw me that  way,  still 
wondered  himself and invariably, like  some  sex-crazed 
teen ashamedly hiding under the covers to peek at  Dad's 
Playboy,  this tiny little obsession brought me back  to 
those pages again and again. 

  Only  this  Playboy was much more  torrid,  much  more 
taboo. 

  Thinking of those images, each time I masturbated,  it 
got  a little easier to feel a little less shame  and  a 
little more humour.  After all, silly as it all was,  it 
was not like he'd molested me. Truth is, maybe if he had 
approached me back then, I might have even enjoyed it. 

  Might have?  Probably. 

  It probably would have scared the hell out of me,  but 
from  a sexual standpoint at that point of my  life,  it 
probably would have been terribly exciting. 

  All  the same, I was glad he hadn't. Who knows,  maybe 
it would have destroyed me. 

  No, this was much more innocuous, even laughable. GOD! 
Mom  must  be  turning over in her  grave!  I  sometimes 
thought. 

  Both  Dad and I were just....insane...that was  it.  A 
little crazy. 


  Insisting  that even a 14 month-old  could  appreciate 
it, the next day, Dad took Justin to the zoo.   I  guess 
he was right because Justin had a great time. 


  And I had an interesting time of my own. 


  Like  the  child I had been,  trespassing  into  Dad's 
office  now  equipped  with  a  computer  instead  of  a 
typewriter,  I  spun in his chair, rooting  through  the 
innocent  papers  in his waste basket  and  the  various 
things in his desk. 


  This  all inspired me.   Blushing and giggling like  I 
was  playing  some  girlish game  of  Spin  The  Bottle, 
writing some love letter to a boy I knew loved me, going 
into Word Perfect on the computer, I started writing. 


  Only this love letter was much more a story, and  much 
more...well... 


  It  was about a man and his daughter whose  respective 
spouses had died and the girl had found some story about 
her  father and her when she was fourteen and  now,  she 
was  just lusting to do the dirty deed, to  throw  moral 
caution  to the wind and together do  every  unthinkably 
taboo act a daughter and her father could do! 


  When  I was finished I read it over and though  I  was 
terribly turned on, I erased it. 


  Gone,  thank God...if Dad ever saw it,  he'd  probably 
have  a  heart  attack and die.  Although  only  42  and 
healthy  and  virile, handsome and happy,  everyone  has 
their limits. 


  Putting   Justin  to  bed  that  night,   I   returned 
downstairs just as Dad came out of his office. It struck 
me   then  that  there  might  be  a  way  to   retrieve 
documents....weren't  there  people with  that  sort  of 
know-how? 


  Was Dad one of them? 


  No!! And even if he was, having no idea I'd even  used 
his  computer,  why would he be  looking?   Relieved  at 
this,  I  made myself some tea and started  reading  the 
paper. 


  Dad  was flushing the nearby toilet and he  came  into 
the kitchen. 


  "Write  anything?"  I asked a bit  nervously...out  of 
guilt I guess. 


  "No.  Actually I was reading. Is this still  hot?"  he 
asked pointing to the kettle. 


  I nodded and started reading the comics. 


  "I  love these computers," he said and trying  not  to 
tremble, I picked up my tea. GEEZ! You'd think I was ten 
and  had just broken his model and was hoping he  hadn't 
found out. "They're idiot proof for old people like  me. 
If  you  hit  the wrong key  and  do  something  stupid, 
there's always a way around it." 


  As  he stirred in sugar, the tension in the  room  did 
not belong only to me. 


  Dad sipped his tea.  "Take that Word Perfect  program. 
I was writing on it once - something for a local  paper. 
I  had been working on it for about an hour and hit  the 
wrong  key  and  BAM! Gone! I just  about  put  my  fist 
through the screen!" 


  Seeing   this   somehow...very   distantly   inferring 
something  ...ghostly ... I asked nervously,  "What  did 
you do?" 


  "I called Mitch because his son's a technician for the 
machines.    He told me the program has its  own  saving 
system. If you've been writing and you haven't saved  it 
for  sometime,  it just kicks in and saves  the  writing 
into a nameless back-up file." 


  OH  GOD!  My  heart leapt into my throat  as  my  hand 
almost zipped the cup off the counter. I had never  been 
so terrified in my life!! 


  "So  I turned the machine back on when he  called  and 
started  leafing  through the files.   There it  was,  a 
back-up  file!  It wasn't the whole thing...but  it  was 
most  of it, so I didn't have to start from  scratch.  I 
just had to finish the last few paragraphs." 


  "Uh...that's...great...it uh..." 

  His  hand  went to my wrist and before I could  say  a 
word, Dad pulled me forcefully but not harshly from  the 
chair, his hand pushing gently at my shoulder. 

  Terrified  and  suddenly aroused, I  complied  without 
certainty what was happening, and suddenly, I was on  my 
knees  in front of him, his hands unfastening his  pants 
excitedly  - nervously - and as I watched, in  front  of 
me, his cock was there, his hand on the back of my  head 
drawing  me  towards  it.  Guiding it  to  my  lips,  he 
said,"Suck it Karen...please, darling, suck it!" 

  As  though it had a mind of its own, my  mouth  opened 
willingly, and he slid in, filling me with his forbidden 
member.  Its  taste,  the  fullness  and  heat  suddenly 
excited me... 

  "Oooo....that's it Karen...suck Daddy's cock...."

  Referring  to  himself as `Daddy' struck a  chord  and 
excited  me even more. Wrapping my hand around the  base 
of  his  cock, I slid up the head of him and  then  back 
down. 

  "GOD!   KAREN!   I  can't  believe  this   is   really 
happening...I never thought...it was just so...wrong." 

  Pulling  away  nervously,  excited at  our  breach  of 
morality  as  I  pumped his cock with my  fist.  I  said 
breathlessly,  "You've wanted me to do this for  a  long 
time, haven't you?  Is it good?" 

  "Mmmmmm....its  incredible," he replied,  stroking  my 
hair. 

  "Am  I sucking you good, Daddy...is your  little  girl 
doing it the way you want?" I played with him,  enjoying 
the role of myself only younger. 

  "GOD! You're fantastic...." and as his hand pushed  me 
back  down  over his cock, I squealed  playfully  as  he 
thrust deep into my mouth. 

  GOD!  I could hardly believe this was  happening....we 
were really nuts!!! 

  Pantingly, Dad pumped his cock into my mouth.  "That's 
it   baby...suck  Daddy's   cock....oooooo...yeah...that 
feels good....I love watching it go in....love  watching 
you  suck  it! Do you like it Karen....is  Daddy's  cock 
good?" 

  GOD!  This whole thing was so filthy and I was  loving 
it....what was wrong with me??? Oh...who cared!!! I kept 
wanting  to think....just enjoy it...you know  you  want 
to. 

  And I did. 

  Pausing again, pumping him with my fist again, I  said 
in  a girlish voice..."God Daddy....its so big...I  like 
it     how     it    feels    in     my     mouth....its 
so...bad...so....naughty....",  then excited by  my  own 
words, I gulped him back down again. 

  "Mmmmm" Dad moaned. "GOD! I'm going to cum if you keep 
doing that....whoa....slow down..." 

  Withdrawing him, I pumped him with my fist again.  "Do 
you  want to fuck me, Daddy....is that what you want  to 
do? Want to fuck your little girl..?" 

  "GOD KAREN! This is so......" 

  My  voice and manner normal, I stopped and looking  up 
at  him,  said, "Kinky!  But it's what you  want,  isn't 
it?" 

  "You sure you're fine with it...is it scaring  you...I 
just don't want to..." 

  "Dad....I  wouldn't  be doing it if it wasn't  what  I 
wanted....I  know  it's  weird...but  God..I'm  just  so 
turned on... all I want to do...is...enjoy it..."  I was 
nervous  as I said it; aside from my moral  fibre  which 
was  still  providing  that exciting side  of  `this  is 
incest...this is wrong...' to the whole episode, most of 
me meant it.

  With this, Dad took my hand from his cock and used  it 
to spin me like we were dancing. Putting me on my  hands 
and knees, I could hear him rooting around for something 
in a nearby drawer. 

  Finding  the scissors, in seconds, he had cut  a  huge 
whole  in crotch of my jeans just like in my  story  and  
exploring me feverishly, plunged his finger deep into my 
wet    crevice.   "Dad!!!   You're   in   me...    right 
inside...ooo...yeah...deeper  ....rub me, Daddy..."  

  Gyrating  against  him, I moaned as my  hands  pressed 
against  the linoleum and as I rocked on  Dad's  pumping 
finger,  another  finger joined to rub at  my  clitoris.  
"Don't   stop,"   I   panted,   "Do   both...yeah   like 
that....GOD!   Dad!  This  is  incredible....GOD!   Fuck 
me....I can't wait...fuck me please..." 


  Dad  seemed to have the same feeling of impatience!  I 
felt  his finger slip from me and his cock pushing  into 
me right away.  "GOD! DADDY! Ooooo...that feels  good... 
all  the way...push it in...fuck me, Daddy...."  Filling 
me  and  then  starting to plunge  deeper  into  me,  he 
started pushing in,  pumping, his powerful hands pulling 
my waist so his cock could lunge deep into my  grateful, 
forbidden   crotch.  "Yeah...that's   it,   Daddy...fuck 
me...fuck      your     little      girl...fuck      her 
harder...yeah...fuck   me   Daddy...ram  it   right   in 
me..yeah...GOD!....GOD! FUCK ME DAD! FUCK ME!!" 

  Enjoying the image of my father fucking me at 14 to 21 
back to 14 as he fucked me, I was screaming and shouting 
as my excitement built.   It was incredible! I knew  how 
filthy the whole thing was...this was not like either of 
us...we  weren't like that...but somehow... It was  just 
so  unbelievably  erotic, and in spite  of  all  else... 
physically...sexually...it was just great sex!! 

  Dad panted as he kept pounding into me. "How about  my 
fucking  you up the ass..."  The thought had never  been 
arousing  to me before but I had read it in  his  story.  
How  when I was younger, he'd really had a thing for  my 
ass, how much he'd wanted that part of his fantasy.   By 
now, I realised how erotic it was and..."Yeah....fuck me 
up the ass now," I said. 

  Dad  withdrew  anxiously  and poised his  cock  at  my 
crevice.  Feeling him there and suddenly, it aroused  me 
much  more. My body bracing against the  intrusion,  his 
cock pushed into me as I gasped for air and reconsidered 
this invasion. 

  "Do you want me to stop?" Dad asked, concerned. 

  No. Yes. No. Yes. 

  "Might as well go all the way," I gasped...but hurry," 
I panted. 

  Dad  pushed hard then and my throat releasing  against 
the  pleasurable  pain,  I  groaned  as  his  cock  slid 
completely into me and then started pumping. 

  By  now,  the  pain was subsiding  and  the  feel  and 
thought  of  my Dad fucking my ass was  just  delicious. 
God,  it was incredible! Once the pain was gone  -  (and 
there  was  still a twinge of it here and there)  -  the 
feel  of him filling me like that while his hand  rubbed 
my  clit just drove me crazy. Hair flailing,  I  started 
rocking, my hands red against the linoleum as he  rammed 
into me again and again. 

  GOD!  If this was incest and immoral...fine...but  how 
was  I  not supposed to love  it??!!   Being  ass-fucked 
while  Dad rubbed me that way, I thought I was going  to 
absolutely  die from pleasure...and of course,  that  it 
was my Dad, and we both wanted it and it was wrong,  and 
we  were such moral people....normally....this was  just 
like  some  wild  roller  coaster  ride  into  a  sexual 
DisneyWorld of depravity! 

  "You  like  that...don't you," he was  panting.   "God 
Karen...you're  really  into this...do you  want  me  to 
cum...I have to stop now if you want me to wait." 

  I  wanted him to cum inside me all right, but  knowing 
at his age, Dad might not have the stamina to cum  twice 
let alone three times, I begrudgingly told him to stop. 

  Dad's  withdrawal was pleasurable but saddening  in  a 
way.  I  had  never done this before  and  it  had  been 
incredible!!  But  as he picked me up by the  waist  and 
sat me on the counter, I was not disappointed for  long. 
From  the  hole he had made, down my thighs,  his  hands 
tore my jeans right off and into shards on the floor  so 
that  only the areas around my waist remained. What  was 
left of my panties went too, and he bit into my  crotch, 
his  hand  on  my thighs as he  hoisted  them  over  his 
shoulders plunge his tongue into my forbidden flesh. 

  "God!"  I gasped and panting, never  before  imagining 
anything  so lewd and exciting, watched wide-eyed as  he 
covered  my crotch with his mouth.   Shoving his  tongue 
into  it, as I braced backwards against the  counter-top 
and  arched my back to get closer to him, he  licked  my 
insides.  Bucking and whimpering, I was caught up  in  a 
tidal  wave  of  pleasure as he sucked on  me,  my  hips 
shivering  and  gyrating, my thighs  heightening  as  he 
licked  at my clit, thrusting his tongue into  me  again 
and  again.  I could feel the whole current in  my  hips 
and  pelvis come at me as I watched him feverishly  suck 
on  me and I threw my head back and howled.  "GOD!  DAD! 
I'M  GOING TO CUM!!!. DAD!! YEAH!! DAD!" My  whole  body 
shook and my hips were bucking wildly as I had the  most 
exciting  orgasm I have ever had.  I kept whimpering  as 
he brought me through it.... 

  "GOD!" I panted as my legs slid from his shoulders. 

  Dad pulled me off the counter and down into a kneeling 
position in front of him.  His hands pushed me over  his 
cock and feeling excited at the thought of bringing  him 
to climax, I started bobbing fiercely, not the least bit 
concerned  with  my  nudity or my  knees  or  my  aching 
neck... 

  "GOD Karen!...suck me off GOD! Suck my cock...yeah..." 

  I  didn't  need this encouragement  but  it  certainly 
helped.  I was eager now for the inevitable  portion  of 
this  ....swallowing Dad's sperm. I had never done it to 
Greg  and  I still was not fond of the taste but  I  was 
going to savour this, only because it was the cherry  on 
this sundae of taboo.  Swallowing my Dad's cum! 

  I  didn't have to wait long. After another  minute  or 
so,  Dad  panted, "Oh GOD!  Yeah...I'm  cumming..."  and 
eagerly, to leave as much room as possible, I went up to 
the  tip  of his cock to catch a mouthful  of  forbidden 
semen. 

  It spurted into my mouth onto my tongue and  savouring 
the  smooth thick heat, swallowed it as two more  spurts 
erupted into my mouth. 

  "Oh  GOD!"  he  panted.  "Swallow  it  baby....swallow 
Daddy's cum!!" 

  Dad   was   obviously   excitedly-surprised   by    my 
enthusiasm.  Three  more  spurts squirted  out  onto  my 
tongue and I swallowed them, relishing the sensation and 
taste. 

  BUT  GOD!  It was just the whole  thought....my  Dad's 
cock...my Dad's cum...it was just all so.......nasty. 

  Licking  my lips as the final dribbles of  semen  went 
down  my  throat, I withdrew, pumping Dad's  cock  as  I 
leaned back on my haunches. 

  Justin was crying in the monitor. 

  "I better get that," I said softly. 

  Dad nodded. 

      THE END 

