´╗┐My Sister Drinks It (parts 1-9) (Mg,extreme pedo,toddler,nepi,ws)
                         
by Frank McCoy

     My little sister is sick.  Some people would say I was even 
sicker, because I take advantage of her.  No, I mean physically 
sick, not mentally.  Though some people might say she was 
mentally sick too.  You see, my little sister drinks pee.  Yes, 
pee.  Piss.  Urine.  You know what I mean.
     You see, she doesn't drink it because she likes to, but 
because she has too.  No, that's wrong too.  I didn't mean to 
imply that she didn't like it.  Chrissie likes to drink pee, as 
much as you or I like to drink pop.  She got that way, because 
she HAS to drink it, or she gets sick.  Well, maybe she doesn't 
actually HAVE to.  OH shit!  I started this all wrong.  Perhaps 
I'd better start at the beginning.
     When Chrissie was born, she looked and acted just like any 
other baby.  It wasn't until she was about 2 years old, and Momma 
first switched her from breast-milk to solid foods, that we first 
found out that something was wrong.
     It's not that Chrissie had a hard time adjusting to solid 
food; it's just that she always seemed to be so thirsty.  Then, 
she started to lose weight.  After about six months, my little 
sister looked starved and pale.  She always seemed to be 
sweating, and she drank whatever liquids she found, almost 
constantly.  The first real indication of what was to come, was 
when Momma found my little sister drinking out of the toilet-
bowl, that Daddy had just finished peeing in.  She was so thirsty 
that when she couldn't find anything to drink, (the cupboards and 
sink were too high) she copied the cat, which she had seen 
drinking there earlier.  (We tried to stop that animal from 
drinking out of the toilet-bowl, but it never seemed to learn.)  
Nobody had ever told Chrissie that toilet-bowls weren't drinking-
fountains,  (She was JUST beginning to talk, at the time.)
     Momma almost had kittens herself, when she saw her little 
girl face-down in the toilet.  At first, she thought the little 
girl had drowned.  Then, when she saw what was REALLY going on, 
Momma was almost as upset as if Chrissie HAD drowned.  Hysterical 
doesn't begin to describe my mother that day.  That was the last 
straw.  Straw?  Heck, that was the whole straw-stack, with a load 
of lumber on top.  Momma called the doctor, and tried to set up 
an appointment right then.
     Well, you know doctors.  If the kid isn't dying, then she 
has to wait on them.  It was over a week before Momma could get 
Chrissie scheduled to go in for testing.  During that time, Momma 
watched Chrissie like a hawk; fearing that her little escapade 
might have made an already sickly little girl even sicker.
     Surprisingly, (to Momma; all the rest of us figured that a 
little piss wouldn't hurt her) Chrissie didn't seem to be hurt at 
all.  In fact, for two days she cut down on her liquid intake and 
a little color seemed to appear in my little sister's cheeks.  
Then she went back to looking the same.


                           CHAPTER 1
 

     About halfway through the week, Chrissie came toddling into 
the bathroom, just when I was about to start to take a piss 
myself.  She had been using the toilet herself for almost a month 
now; and the whole family was trying to encourage her.  So nobody 
had yet told her she shouldn't come in when other people were 
using it.  Usually, whoever was in the bathroom would finish up 
as quickly as possible, and let the little girl go.
     Chrissie never did piss too much.  Not even when she was a 
baby.  Her diaper very rarely got wet.  Stinky, yes.  Wet, not 
very often.  We hadn't really noticed this the way we should 
have, until our noses were rubbed in it.
     That day, I'm ashamed of.  That was the first time I took 
advantage of my little sister's ignorance.  It turned out to be 
lucky that I did; but it also set a pattern for later in both of 
our lives.  I kept taking advantage of my little sister; and she 
kept letting me.  Since the results were usually positive for 
her, she got to expect it; and I never felt as guilty about it as 
I should have.  So I never stopped; and she kept on letting me; 
until we got trapped in our pleasant (Uh sorry, that's: present.) 
situation.
     That morning I hadn't yet gone myself.  So I moved out of 
the way for Chrissie; expecting her to sit down and relieve 
herself; then I could go after her.  (OK, I'll admit it; I was 
something of a voyeur.)  I wanted to watch my little sister pee, 
because it would give me a chance to get a close look at what the 
little girl had between her legs.
     Chrissie wasn't old enough to know she shouldn't do 
"private" things like this in front of her big brother.  At 10 
years old, I was just beginning to get interested in what girls 
had between their legs, and had just discovered the fun of 
playing with what I had between mine.  Still, what I did that day 
was, to say the least, naughty.  To say the worst?  No, I don't 
want to repeat what Momma said later to me.  My ears still burn 
even now, almost 15 years later.  Oh.  I forgot to tell you what 
I did that day.  I'll continue.
     Well, I just moved out of the way; expecting my little 
sister to put the toilet-seat down, and sit on it.  You can 
imagine my surprise, when the little girl kneeled down instead, 
and bent over to where her face was almost in the water.  It 
didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what the little girl 
was going to do, after the big blowup 3 days before.  I reached 
for my little sister and stopped her; shaking my head as I did 
so.
     Chrissie looked at me with those big sad eyes of hers and 
said, "No?"  That was one of the few words she understood at the 
time.
     I tried to make it clear to her.  "No," I said.  "No drink 
potty."  I THOUGHT she understood all three words.
     "No?" repeated my little sister.  I think she understood; 
but her big blue eyes got even bigger; and tears started to run 
down her cheeks.  I was afraid I was going to have a bawling 
little girl on my hands, when a VERY nasty idea occurred to me.  
Even now, years later, I can't believe I did what I did.
     "Oh heck," I said, "if you want to drink pissy-water, why 
don't you drink the real thing?"


                     CHAPTER 2
 

     I had been standing there with my pants half-down, cock in 
hand, ready to pee, when this all started.  At the time I was 
joking; but I waved my little peter at my sister's face in a 
manner that even a 2-year-old could understand.
     Chrissie looked at me; not sure.  "Drink?" she asked.  She 
DID understand the word.  (Not surprising, considering how much 
she drank every day.)  It was then, that I did it.  It's too late 
now to apologize; and Chrissie wouldn't let me anyway.  She's too 
happy with the results.  What I did was very simple:  I nodded my 
head.
     Chrissie knew what to do.  It hadn't been all that long 
since she'd been on the bottle; and she had seen me and Daddy 
pissing before; so she knew that liquid came out of a man's 
peter.  Liquid was what Chrissie wanted: She swallowed my cock; 
then started sucking on it like a milking machine.
     I was caught by surprise.  I had really expected Chrissie to 
turn me down.  Actually, I had expected her to be disgusted.  I 
was slightly worried about what Momma might think, but figured 
that Chrissie wasn't old enough to explain what I had tried to 
do.  (Yes I know. . . I was a little punk bastard.)
     As I said, Chrissie caught me by surprise.  The shock of 
feeling my little sister's warm mouth on my already leaking penis 
was too much.  I had needed to pee fairly badly when I came into 
the bathroom; and Chrissie's interruption had just increased my 
bladder pressure.  I let go.  Yes, I peed right in my own two-
year-old sister's sucking little mouth.  I peed, and peed, and 
then peed some more.  It seemed as if I just couldn't stop.
     I really expected Chrissie to pull away in disgust; so that 
I would squirt all over the floor and make a big mess.  To my 
surprise, Chrissie not only didn't pull away, she sucked even 
harder; gulping madly, as she strained to keep up with the flow.  
I couldn't believe it.  My little sister actually seemed to LIKE 
the taste of my piss.  I had tasted it myself once, but never 
actually DRANK it.
     When I finished peeing, Chrissie kept right on sucking.  As 
the last little dribbles came out, she worked to get more.  I 
didn't have any; but the feeling of my little sister's mouth on 
my peter felt good; so I didn't tell her to stop.  MY prick got 
unbelievably hard; but I was too young to have an orgasm; so 
after about 10 minutes it got to be too much, and I asked 
Chrissie to stop.
     Chrissie seemed disappointed that she couldn't get any more 
out of me; but dropped my peter, and happily toddled back out 
into the living room.  It was only then that I started to have 
the shakes, as I thought of the danger I had been in.  Either one 
of our parents might have seen us.  I hadn't even had the 
presence of mind to shut the bathroom door.  Boy was I dumb!  I 
broke out in a cold sweat, as I thought of how much trouble I had 
just missed.  Still, two days later I couldn't resist doing it 
again.
     After that first time, I watched my little sister closely.  
After all, I DID love the kid; and if swallowing my pee made her 
sick, then I vowed I would tell Mom even if I got in trouble.  (I 
wouldn't DARE tell Dad.  He'd probably kill me, for doing 
something like that to his "little princess.")


                     CHAPTER 3
 

     Well, my piss didn't make Chrissie sick.  In fact, She 
seemed to be getting better.  Her face tuned pink, instead of 
pasty-white.  She cut down a LOT on how much she was drinking; 
and she seemed unusually bright and cheerful.  So much so, that 
Momma was almost ready to cancel the doctor's appointment for 
her, when it happened.  The third time, I got caught.
     Yeah, I did it again.  The second time Chrissie followed me 
into the bathroom I was still scared; and looked around carefully 
before pulling out my peter, and letting her suck on it.  She 
seemed to expect it after that first time; and I didn't 
disappoint her.  The only trouble was:  The second time I wasn't 
caught by surprise, and the feeling of the little girl's mouth on 
my horny little peter was so stimulating that I got a hard-on 
that wouldn't LET me pee.  It was almost 10 minutes, before I 
lost control (or gained it) and once again filled my little 
sister's tummy with pee.
     Now that she knew what to expect, she seemed to like it even 
better than the first time.  She kept sucking though, even after 
I stopped peeing, until I told her she should quit.  Happily, the 
little girl left me there; wondering just what I had gotten 
myself into.  A lot of trouble, it turned out.
     The next day, I got caught.  Chrissie followed me into the 
bathroom again; only THIS time Momma noticed.  She came in 
(probably to tell Chrissie that she shouldn't bother her big 
brother in the bathroom) and got there just as my prick got into 
full-flow in my little sister's mouth.  Momma's yelp of surprise 
caught me and Chrissie by surprise ourselves; and I jerked so 
that my prick came out of Chrissie's mouth and squirted piss all 
over her face, and down her front.  I just stood there, frozen in 
fright; but Chrissie hurriedly grabbed my cock and redirected the 
remaining spurts of urine into her mouth, so they didn't go to 
waste.  At least it was obvious that Chrissie wanted this, and I 
wasn't forcing her.  If it HADN'T been so obvious, I shudder to 
think of what might have happened next.  It was bad enough as it 
was.  Such screaming, hollering and accusations, you never heard 
in your life.
     I tried to explain that Chrissie had started the whole 
thing, but Momma wouldn't listen; saying that, "Her idea or not, 
you should know better."
     Well, I guess I did.  I just hadn't been able to resist.  
The only thing that saved my ass, was Momma's worry about 
Chrissie.  Years later, the whole family chuckles about it; but 
at the time Momma was scared that drinking my piss would make my 
sickly little sister even sicker.  Possibly even seriously so.  
So Momma grabbed me and Chrissie; left a message for Daddy; and 
hustled us both down to the doctor's office.  Appointment or no 
appointment, Momma wanted Chrissie's stomach pumped; and she 
wanted ME to know just what was happening, and that I was to 
blame for anything that happened to Chrissie.
     Doctors are not mothers; thank goodness.  I also thank 
heaven that Dr. Curtis was a GOOD doctor, and not some quack with 
pre-conceived notions who was too busy to investigate.  Chrissie 
did NOT get her stomach pumped.  (Thank goodness again.)


                            CHAPTER 4
 

     Since Momma was obviously almost in hysteria by the time we 
got to the doctor's office, the nurse found us a room, and Dr. 
Curtis saw us in less than 15 minutes.  Those were about the 
longest 15 minutes of my life.  Once the doctor got Momma calmed 
down enough to explain what the trouble was, he took a quick look 
at Chrissie, and told Momma that he was NOT going to have her 
stomach pumped, as doing so would cause far more damage than 
swallowing a little urine.  "People swallow urine every day," he 
assured her, "and except for a queasiness in the stomach, it 
usually does no harm."
     Momma looked a little relieved at this, but still worried.
     Me?  I was so relieved, I felt as though someone had dumped 
a bucket of ice-water on me.  Then I looked at Momma's stern face 
and realized I still wasn't off the hook.
     Dr. Curtis Had a lot of appointments to attend to that 
afternoon; but told Momma that since she was already there, he 
would look at Chrissie when he got a chance, instead of us coming 
back the next day, when her appointment was.  Also, I think he 
wanted to talk to me, not just my little sister.  So, Momma and I 
waited for two hours.  Me feeling like a condemned man waiting 
for his execution; but not knowing if they were going to shoot, 
hang, or electrocute him.
     Since I didn't know what Daddy was going to do, that was 
pretty close to my situation anyway.  Daddy loved both of us, and 
there has never been any doubt about that; but when it came to my 
little sister, well there's no describing it.  No, Daddy didn't 
pamper her, or let her get away with anything that he wouldn't 
let me get away with (except for the fact that she WAS younger 
than I was).  Daddy always did his best to be fair.
     It's just that Daddy always had wanted a little girl, and 
Chrissie almost didn't make it.  You could see the love in 
Daddy's eyes, as he always watched my little sister whenever she 
was in the room with him. Daddy always loved me, and was always 
proud of me (Well, not ALWAYS.  This time, for example.) but love 
almost doesn't describe how he felt about Chrissie.  I love her 
too, but somehow I guess she'll still always be "Daddy's girl."
     Anyway, when Daddy got there Momma explained what was going 
on.  By this time The doctor was examining Chrissie; the office 
had emptied out; so except for a nurse and secretary, the office 
was pretty much empty.
     Daddy's reaction surprised me.  Once he learned what had 
happened, he wasn't as worried about Chrissie any more, as he was 
about me.  Yes, me.
     Daddy looked at me with such disappointment, that I would do 
this to my own little sister, that I wanted to crawl in a hole 
and pull a rock over myself; like the bug that I felt I was.  As 
I said, I do love my little sister; and Daddy made me feel as if 
I had betrayed her.  Maybe I had.
     Well, about 10 minutes after that, Dr. Curtis brought 
Chrissie back; and wanted to talk to me.  Yes ME.  So this time I 
went down the hall, and talked to the doctor.


                          CHAPTER 5
 

     I expected Dr. Curtis to give me some kind of lecture about 
not pissing in your little sister's mouth, and hygiene, or 
something like that; but he didn't.  Instead, he kept asking me 
questions about Chrissie.  Like:
     "How long have you and your little sister been doing this?"
     "When was the first day?"
     "How many times have you done it since then?"
     "Your mother says Chrissie has been pale, and drinks a lot.  
Has she always been this way?"
     "The first time this happened, did you or your little sister 
start it?"
     "Tell me exactly what happened."
     "Before that, do you know if your sister had been drinking 
from the toilet before; or was that the first time?"
     "Have you noticed any changes in your sister since this 
started?"
     "Has Chrissie shown any interest in feces?"
     (I had to ask him what he meant by that one.)
     "Does Chrissie have any other unusual habits, that you know 
of?"
     "How much do you think your little sister drinks each day?"
     "Have you noticed if your sister smells different than other 
children?"
     "Does your sister have any other unusual appetites, that you 
know of?"
     This questioning went on and on.  I felt like a witness at 
an accident being grilled by the police.  No, not a suspect 
(yet), but a possible one.
     After me, the doctor talked to both Momma and Daddy 
separately, then all of us together.  I presume he asked my 
parents similar questions.  I do remember one particular question 
that he asked us all, when Chrissie was there:  "Is this normal 
for her?  I mean, is this how Chrissie usually looks?"
     We all stared at my little sister.  She was quietly playing; 
making "Zoom zoom" noises, with a toy kept in the corner of the 
office, for young children just like her.  We all stared at my 
little sister; at first worried, then wondering.
     Momma first put it into words.  "No," she said, "not really.  
Usually by this time Chrissie will be crying for something to 
drink, or otherwise fussing."
     Momma was right.  Usually my little sister couldn't go two 
hours with yelling for something.  There was something else too.
     "She doesn't look as pale as she usually does," I 
volunteered.
     Daddy put the final touch on it.  "She seems, well. . . 
Happy," he said.
     Dr. Curtis nodded.  "Then you all agree, that she doesn't 
seem to be hurt by this episode?"
     Hurt?  My little sister seemed more contented than I had 
seen her for months.  Momma and Daddy seemed to think so too.
     "I'm going to make an unusual request," said Dr. Curtis.
     We all listened.
     "You haven't punished her for this, have you?" he asked.


                          CHAPTER 6
 

     Momma and Daddy both shook their heads.  Punish Chrissie?  
They thought she was the victim.
     "Well, don't" said Dr. Curtis, "And don't punish Mike here 
either."
     "Huh?"  I'm not sure who said that, but it could have been 
any or all of us.  I began to wonder if I might get off the hook 
after all.
     "But what if he does it again?"  My mother put the whole 
family's thoughts into words.
     "If SHE wants to, then let her," said the doctor; almost 
shocking us all.  He then looked at me sternly.  "Just don't YOU 
go asking HER," he said.  "Do you know what I mean?"
     I did.  "You mean, that if SHE tries to get me to. . . 
to. . ."  I couldn't say it in front of my parents.
     "Urinate in her mouth," prompted Dr. Curtis.  Somehow it 
wasn't so obscene, when HE said it.
     "Yeah, that," I blurted; then continued, "If SHE tries to, 
then you WANT me to do it?   Really?"  This was almost a 
plaintive cry.
     "Yes I do," reaffirmed the doctor.  "In fact," he looked at 
both me and my father before continuing, "I want you both to 
promise me that you WILL do this for her, if she wants it."
     Daddy turned red.  I guess he might have bought the idea 
that having ME piss in my little sister's mouth wouldn't hurt 
her, but what the doctor was suggesting. . . "If you think I'm 
going to. . . to. . . to. . . to my own daughter. . ."
     I had never seen my father tongue-tied before.  Usually 
Daddy was about the most articulate person I knew.  He had to be.  
He was the public spokesman for his company, and a heck of a 
salesman to boot.
     Dr. Curtis interrupted my father's blustering.  "Look at 
her," he commanded.
     We all looked at my little sister playing contentedly in the 
corner.
     Daddy wilted.  If ANYTHING would make his little girl get 
better, he would do it; if it was cutting off his own arm.  "But 
what if I. . ."  Daddy tried for one last stab at sanity.
     "Accidentally ejaculate?" Dr. Curtis seemed to know what was 
bothering Daddy.
     I didn't yet.  After all, I was only 10 years old myself.
     "Mr. Carlson," said the doctor sternly, "I HOPE you don't 
have any hang-ups like that with your wife."  At my parent's 
head-shakes, he continued, "Then you know that won't hurt her, if 
you do.  Just don't try to. . . Well, you know what I mean," he 
said, looking pointedly in my direction.
     I didn't know, but it was obvious that my parents did.  
Daddy gave up.  "I guess," he said, "if you say so."
     "I do," said the doctor.  "Now, I want you to take Chrissie 
down to see this specialist next Monday.  That's the earliest I 
could get you in.  I want him to confirm my suspicions before we 
start treating Chrissie.  In the meantime, a little urine in her 
diet won't hurt Chrissie; and if I'm right, it might actually 
help."
     "Treating Chrissie?" asked Daddy with hope.  "You mean we 
won't have to keep on doing this?  There's a treatment for it?"


                      CHAPTER 7
 

     "Maybe," said the doctor; not wanting to commit himself 
until the test-results were in.  "In the meantime," he continued, 
"you'll do what I asked?"
     Daddy looked at me; I looked at Daddy; we both looked at 
Mommy.  "I guess," he said; and that was that.  If Daddy said he 
would do something, then he would.  I think Daddy hoped he 
wouldn't be tested.
     So, that night when I was ready for bed and I started for 
the bathroom, when Chrissie followed me in I just pulled down my 
pants, and let my little sister "do her thing."  It took me a 
while; as the feeling of her warm little mouth on my prick kept 
me so hard, that for a while I couldn't go.  But after a while 
the pressure got too great, and I let go.
     I was just finishing up, when I became aware of my parents 
watching the obscene scene going on in the bathroom between their 
10-year-old little boy and his 2-and-a-half-year-old little 
sister.  Like always, Chrissie didn't stop sucking when I 
finished peeing; she kept right on, until I told her it was OK, 
and she could stop.  Chrissie gave me a big grin; licked her 
lips; and headed off to bed.  Funny, I never noticed HER pee.
     For the next three days, this developed into a pattern.
     Even when I went to take a shit, Chrissie would kneel down 
in front of me and have me pee into her mouth, instead of the 
toilet.  The more she got, the more she seemed to want.  
Sometimes I'd see one or the other of my parents peeking in on 
us; but they seemed to be spending a lot of "private-time" in the 
bedroom those days; so I wasn't too sure, as they were never 
there when I got out.  In the meantime, it sure didn't seem to be 
hurting Chrissie to be doing such a normally obscene thing.  In 
fact, she seemed to be healthier for it.  Maybe the doctor was 
right after all.  I guess that Daddy must have figured so, 
because he stopped looking mad at me when he saw me heading for 
the bathroom, with my little sister in tow.
     His worried looks at Chrissie seemed to increase a little 
though.  I guess he was worried about just WHAT was wrong with 
his daughter.
     Honestly, I was a little worried myself.  I mean, I liked my 
little sister.  But if she kept on doing this when she got older, 
I foresaw a lot of trouble for the little girl.  I guess Daddy 
could see even further in that direction than I could.  Still, I 
guess he figured that Chrissie would be better off alive, 
healthy, and happy, with a reputation as a nasty little slut, 
than sickly, unhealthy, and hurting.  I guess that's why he went 
along with what came next.
     It was almost a week later; just the night before Chrissie's 
big appointment at the hospital, where she was going to see the 
specialist that it happened. (The doctor was some special 
urologist/dermatologist/geneticist thing.  I can't remember just 
what it was.  I remember that the man specialized in skin and 
burn victims, and kidney problems associated with them.)


                         CHAPTER 8
 

     Anyway, this was after we had all gone to bed.  I got up to 
go to the bathroom. (Actually hoping that my little sister did 
NOT wake up and follow me in.  Much as I liked the feel of my 
little sister's mouth on my prick, it usually took me a lot 
longer to pee, when she was there, as she gave me an erection 
that made it HARD to piss.  [WHAT a pun!])  I was tired and 
sleepy, and wanted to get back to bed, not get sucked off.
     I was about halfway through, when Chrissie came in.  She 
looked SO disappointed when she saw me.  Valiantly I TRIED to 
stop, but just couldn't.  I wasted almost 3/4 of my bladder in 
the toilet, instead of my little sister.
     Chrissie looked so disappointed; she was almost ready to 
cry.  By this time, we had managed to convince her that she 
shouldn't drink out of the toilet-bowl, as that was DEFINITELY 
unsanitary.  A man's pee is almost as clean and germ-free as his 
blood.  His shit is another matter entirely.
     Chrissie was standing there, staring longingly at the bowl 
where I had just "wasted" about a half-cup of pee, when Daddy 
came in with a piss hard-on.  He hadn't been expecting to catch 
us in the bathroom, but doing so made his hard-on get even 
harder.  Daddy had just slipped naked out of his and Momma's 
bedroom; never expecting his kids to be in there at that time of 
night.
     When Chrissie saw Daddy come in, wiping his eyes before he 
realized he had company, her eyes lit up like Christmas.  
Chrissie looked so expectantly at Daddy, that he couldn't refuse.  
He DID look a little annoyed at me for not taking care of my 
little sister though.  Still, once Chrissie made it plain what 
she wanted, Daddy kept HIS promise.  (Daddy always did.)  The 
only comment he made, was, "Oh shit," before offering his cock to 
Chrissie.
     Chrissie looked delighted.  My little peter was only about 3 
or four inches long at the time, but Daddy's was well over 6 
inches long, and over an inch thick.  It looked enormous to both 
of us.  I guess Chrissie figured that if Daddy's cock was bigger, 
she'd get a bigger drink from it.  Well, I guess she did, but not 
right away.
     Chrissie couldn't get her mouth all the way around Daddy's 
cock like she could mine.  Actually, she could barely open her 
mouth enough to cover the head.  Still, Chrissie did her best.  
It must have been pretty good.  Daddy couldn't pee.  Just like 
me, the feeling of his own daughter's warm little mouth on his 
engorged penis, made it too hard to allow him to piss.
     Chrissie just kept sucking harder.  She knew from her 
experience with me, that if she kept on sucking, eventually she 
would get what she wanted.  I know that Daddy TRIED to piss, 
without cumming, but the stimulation was too much.  "Oh God," 
groaned Daddy, "I can't cum in my own daughter's mouth!"
     "You'd better," snapped Momma, who had wondered what was 
taking so long, and was beginning to feel the need to pee 
herself.  "You promised," she added.
     I wondered what they were talking about.  I didn't REALLY 
learn, until a few years later, even though I watched the whole 
thing many times.
     "Oh!" grunted Daddy, and I watched his hips jerk.


                         Chapter 9
 

     Chrissie put her hands around Daddy's prick in self-defense, 
to keep him from accidentally jamming it right down her throat.  
(Later, she got to like taking me and Daddy all the way down her 
throat, but that was YEARS later.)
     Chrissie's eyes opened in surprise, when she got a mouthful 
of cum, instead of the much thinner liquid she had been 
expecting, but she didn't pull away.  She just kept on sucking, 
as Momma and I watched my little sister drink every drop of her 
father's incestuous seed.  Afterwards, she kept right on sucking, 
(just like she did with me) as Daddy's cock got smaller, until 
suddenly she was able to swallow over half of it.
     "Oh god," said Daddy again, in a quieter tone this time.  
His hips twitched again, and then I saw my little sister's throat 
working, as Daddy poured what must have seemed like a deluge of 
pee right down my little sister's hardworking throat.  I could 
actually hear the sound of the spray hitting the back of 
Chrissie's mouth.  I learned later, (from Chrissie) that Daddy 
not only had more piss than me, (because he was bigger, I guess) 
but it was much stronger tasting as well.  Chrissie loved it.  
Daddy not only had more piss to give her than I did, but it had 
more of the flavor she seemed to crave.
     From then on, Chrissie chased after Daddy like a little 
puppy; hoping to be around when he had to urinate.  Since Daddy 
had to work though, she still got most of her "supply" from me.  
Except I didn't cum in her mouth, like Daddy did.  (At least, not 
until several years later.)
     The next day, we went to see the specialist, and they looked 
Chrissie over; prodded her, poked her, took blood samples, stool 
sample, urine samples, and even skin-samples.  That last, was the 
only one that caused Chrissie to cry.  She had stoically endured 
all the rest; even the blood samples hadn't dampened her spirits 
all that much.  Afterwards, they said we were done.  Daddy was 
mad, and insisted on seeing the doctor.  "Well tell me," he 
insisted, "what's wrong?"
     "Won't know for another couple of weeks," mumbled the blue-
garbed man around the sandwich he was eating.  The doctor had 
agreed to talk to Daddy, but only if they talked while he ate 
lunch.  He had three more scheduled appointments in 20 minutes.  
"Tests won't all be completed until then," he explained.
     "But what about my daughter?!?!" Daddy almost exploded.  "I 
mean we can't just keep on. . ."  Daddy didn't want to say what 
was going on, in the lunchroom.
     "Your daughter's doing just fine right now, isn't she?" 
asked the specialist.
     "Well, yes but," Daddy spluttered.
     "Then keep on doing it, until we tell you different," said 
the doctor, before heading out.  "It doesn't seem to be hurting 
her; and as far as we can tell, it might actually be helping."  
Then he was gone.
     Daddy was left gasping at his retreating back.  "But, but, 
but," he spluttered.
     "You sound like a motorboat," admonished Momma.  I had come 
along as well; both because Momma figured they might want to talk 
to me again, and because they didn't really trust me alone at 
home yet.  After all, I was only 10.

THE END (there are thirteen more chapters to this story - found on goodle)

NOTE: More stories like this can be found at:
http://www.asstr.org/files/Collections/Nepi_Stories/