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 Archive name: lesson Authors name: Fitfully
Yours(fitfully_yours@hotmail.com) Story title: Mandi's Lesson

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Thank you for your consideration. 
------------------------------------------------------- Author's Note If
you are not old enough to read stories describing sexual activity, go away.
If you are not allowed, legal or otherwise, to read stories describing
sexual activity, get lost.  If you are morally offended about stories
concerning consensual sex between an adult and a child, pick a different
story.  If you are ignorant enough to think any part of this story is in
any way, shape, or form, non-fiction, get lost.  If you think this story is
a good thing to do in real life, go kill yourself.

   As an author, I appreciate any kind of constructive feedback for my
work. I do not write for profit, so the only payment I get is knowing what
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   --------------------------------------------------------

   They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and I can tell
you, my good intentions may not have led me to hell, but it definitely led
me somewhere.  I am a normal, everyday guy you might see on your way to
work, or at a ball game, or the movies.  In fact, I'm so average, no one
really looks twice.  They don't see the former athlete that had won All
State High School Wrestling, the husband of a former beauty pageant
participant (she never won, but my wife did place fifth or better in six
out of ten pageants), the father of two daughters (6 and 11), or a man who
has developed a condition where he cannot make love to his wife without
first taking a little blue pill.  That's ok, though.  I don't mind being
beneath other people's notice; in fact, I'm grateful for it.  As a
wrestling star in high school, I surrounded myself with people who I
thought were going to help me get where I wanted to go.  Of course, that
didn't happen.  Three of my "friends" got arrested for dealing pot, and I
would have been there if I hadn't been on a date with Amy (my wife), I
would have been there and been arrested as well.  So for me, unnoticed is a
good thing.

   Anyway, one Friday, I drove up to the house, looking forward to relaxing
in front of the TV, maybe drink a beer or two and see what games were on.
All that vanished in an instant the moment I opened the door.  I was met by
the sound of two females shouting at the top of their lungs - well, to be
honest, my wife was shouting; my older daughter, Mandi's voice was more a
shriek than yell.

   "I don't care where you got them; you'll go change this instant!"

   "I don't have to!"

   Oh, shit, I thought, now what?

   I turned the corner just in time to catch a wooden spoon that had been
flying across the room.  What surprised me was that my wife had thrown it
at our daughter.  I calmly walked it over to the sink, dropped it in, and
turned to face the combatants.

   "Ok, will someone please tell me what's going on here?"

   "She's ruining my life," came from our daughter at the same time "I'm
sick of her not listening" came from my wife.

   "Stop," I said calmly, and their bickering stopped.  "Mandi, go wait in
the living room.  Amy, you wait in the breezeway." I watched as they both
slunk in different directions.  I'm not big on discipline; instead, I
listen to what my family members, even our younger daughter, Katie, and
make my decision based on logic.  I don't always side with my wife, but
rarely will she complain my decision, and she hasn't ever made a decision
for the family without at least checking with me first.

   After letting them settle for a few minutes, I went to the breezeway to
talk to Amy.  "First of all, where is Katie?"

   "Up in her room."

   "Now, tell me what this is all about."

   She looked at me like I had just asked how to boil water.  "Are you
serious?" she hissed.

   Instead of retorting like she obviously expected, I stood there looking
at her until she started talking again.

   "Don't tell me you approve of how she's dressed!"

   That threw me.  "What do you mean?"

   "Didn't you see what she's wearing?"

   "Can't say that I did, babe.  I was too busy ducking flying spoons."

   She managed to look a little embarrassed at that, at the same time
starting to cool down.

   "So you were trying to get her to change her clothes, right?" Amy
nodded. "Then let's go and talk to her about it, ok?"

   Without waiting for her to reply, I walked out of the room.  As soon as
I reached the living room, I understood what Amy was talking about.  My
eleven year old daughter was sitting on the couch in a pink and white
striped tube top and matching miniskirt.  She must have seen the look on my
face, because she immediately started protesting.

   "Stop," I said when she paused to catch her breath.  "I haven't told you
to do anything yet, have I?" She shook her head.  Now, your mom says you
won't go up and change like she asked you to.  Why not?"

   "Cause Kevin is taking me to the movies," she said, not quite as
forceful as before.

   "Who is Kevin?"

   "He's a boy from school."

   "And how were you supposed to get to the movies?"

   "He just got his license last week and he said his parents let him use
the car whenever he wants."

   "His Drivers License?" my wife screamed.  "Just How Old..." she started
before I raised my hand.

   "How old is he?" I asked in a calm voice.

   "He's sixteen," she stated smugly.  "He works in the library, and I love
him and he loves me." (Amy snorted her laughter here, but didn't say
anything.)

   "And are you having sex?"

   "Daddy!  I don't do sex yet!  That's gross!"

   "Keep dressing like that, you'll be raped in no time," my wife muttered.

   "Mommy, I know how to defend myself," Mandi stated, and that was the
statement that started us down the path paved with good intentions.

   "David, wrestle her."

   "Huh?"

   "Pin her to the ground," Amy said.  "I want you to show her how easily
you can overpower her."

   I looked at my daughter.  Eleven years old, barely over four feet tall,
maybe seventy pounds, against my forty years, six foot six, two hundred or
so pounds.  "Amy, you can't be serious."

   "I can do it, daddy," Mandi piped up.

   "There are some rules, though," my wife said.  "If you lose against dad,
you are grounded, in the house, for a week."

   Mandi appeared to think it over.  "Then if I get away, I get to go out
with Kevin tonight, in what I'm wearing."

   Now it was my wife's turn to think it over.  "Fine," she said.  "David,
pin her."

   I shrugged my shoulders and stood up, letting Mandi stand up in front of
me.  Amy said "go!" and I grabbed Mandi by her shoulders, pushing her
backwards without letting her go.  I gently but forcefully guided her down
to the floor and held her shoulders to the ground, ignoring the way her
lower body twisted around the floor.

   "See," I said, looking down at her.  "You're pinned."

   "Daddy, you pinned my shoulders, but I can still fight against rape."

   I looked at Amy, and she nodded.  "Pin her all the way, just like you
were really raping her."

   I shrugged my shoulders and move my lower body over Mandi's.  I wasn't
worried about it - after all, I hadn't taken my blue pill.  My weight
pushed her legs down and apart, although she did get one good knee up, she
missed my genitals all together.

   She struggled to get free, but it was obvious she wasn't going to
succeed, and my wife claimed my (and hers, apparently) victory.  In the few
seconds before that claim of victory, though, something happened that was
both disturbing and amazing - my dick started getting hard.  Not just a
little, mind you, but from soft to rock hard in less time than it takes to
scream "rape".  It was like it was saying, "Blue pill?  We don't need no
stinkin blue pill!"

   As soon as my wife said I had won, I popped off my daughter's prone
body, thankful I was wearing jeans so Amy couldn't spot my hard on.  I
think my daughter noticed it though (although I have to admit it would have
been tough for her not to notice), because for a moment she lay there, legs
spread and a look of ...  of ...  well, I'm not sure what.  I think it was
disbelief, but at that moment I thought it might be shocked horror, and the
next words out of her mouth would be to denounce me as a pervert to my
wife.

   She didn't say a word, however.  She stood up, walked to her room, and
an hour later came downstairs in a pair of pajamas that she was clearly
outgrowing.  We went through that night without any more confrontations,
not bothering to tell Katie why the furniture was a little out of place, or
why Mandi wasn't talking much.

   That week passed without incident, Mandi behaving like an angel.  That's
not to say there wasn't a little tension, but compared to the previous
Friday, Saturday through Thursday was a peace filled vacation.

   Then Friday came around.  Again, I was met by screams of rage and
shrieks of frustration.  As I rounded the corner, I realized why my wife
was angry; Mandi was wearing a skirt short enough to be seen on a
cheerleader, and what looked like the top for a bikini.  A bikini that had
fit her perhaps two years ago, and did nothing but accentuate the tiny
little breasts that had developed (quite) recently.

   I sent them to their own areas again, following my wife into the
breezeway.  "You think she hasn't learned her lesson, right?"

   "Does it look like it?" she demanded.

   "You did say she was grounded for a week, and that week is up," I
reminded her.

   "She's not leaving this house dressed like that!" she hissed.

   "What would you like me to do - wrestle her again?" That was meant to be
a joke, but apparently Amy had lost her sense of humor.

   "Yes, I want you to, and this time, try and put a little force into it.
I want her to know we aren't joking around!"

   Instead of waiting for me, she stormed out of the breezeway and into the
living room.  I followed close behind - when she gets this mad, I have to
make sure I stand between her and the kids.  When we reached the living
room, Mandi and Katie were sitting next to each other, whispering.  I
grabbed Amy's arm before she could snap at the six year old, then calmly
said, "Katie, honey?  Can you go upstairs for a little bit?  Mommy, Daddy
and Mandi have to talk, and there are some things you are a little too
young to hear."

   "Ok, daddy," she said, skipping up the stairs, around the corner, and
into her room, shutting the door behind her like we taught her to do.

   "Ok, care to explain yourself?"

   "You said I was only grounded for a week, so I should be able to go out
today," she said.

   "But why are you wearing those clothes?" I asked.

   "Cause they're comfy!" she shouted, and I had to hold my hand up to stop
her.  "I'm sorry," she muttered.

   "Your mom wants the same deal as last week.  If I can pin you, you're
grounded for a week, and if you can get away, you can go on your date
wearing what you are.  Is that fair?"

   "I can beat you this time," Mandi said with confidence, leaping to her
feet.  Amy looked pissed off beyond anything I had ever seen, but this had
been her idea, after all, so she couldn't complain.  I got to my feet, and
the moment I did, Mandi tried darting out of the room.  I barely caught one
outstretched arm, and dragged her back to me.  As she stumbled back into
me, I felt the little girl try her best to grab at the crotch of my pants,
but I twisted away, not wanting my nuts popped.

   I wrapped my arms around her arms and torso, locking my hands in front
of her.  I lifted my daughter off the ground and not quite slammed her to
the ground (belly-to-back suplex, for all you wrestling fans).  She landed
on her stomach, of course, but I flipped her to her back and sat on my
haunches over her stomach.  She reached up and tried to scratch me, but I
grabbed her hands, and with both her wrists trapped in one of my hands, I
pinned her arms above her head.  With my other hand, I reached between her
legs and pinched the nerve that runs along the inner thigh, and her leg
shot out to the side.  I wedged it in place with my knee, then forced her
other leg out with my hand, then other knee, and stopped.

   "Keep going," my wife said, as I balanced on hands and knees above the
prone body of our eleven year old daughter, her budding breasts stretched
to nothing with her arms above her head, her panties showing, and her face
flushed with exertion.

   "Are you sure?" I asked, knowing three things that she could not know
and still ask me to continue.  First, I had a raging erection.  Second, I
was just moments away from cumming.  Third, sometime during the battle, my
zipper had come undone, and my hard dick was pressing against my underwear,
not quite enough to push through the denim fly, but enough to force it out
of my pants at least if I applied any pressure.

   "Yes, I'm sure!  I'm not going to listen to any bullshit about how you
were in the wrong position or no leverage, or whatever stupid thing she's
cooking up in that mind of hers.  I want her to see exactly how easy it is
for men to make you do things they want, even if you don't want to."

   I shrugged, and then lowered my lower body onto Mandi's, hoping the girl
would stay quiet about this as well as she had last week.  As my dick
pressed against her, the underwear bulged slightly out of my jeans.  What I
didn't expect was her panties giving way slightly.  I felt the shift, and
the definite heat of her immature little pussy.  She struggled, (in effect
humping herself against me) but didn't give any sign that something wasn't
right, and by that point I couldn't have stopped even if she had said "mom,
daddy's penis is trying to get in my pussy."

   "Are you ready to give up," my wife asked Mandi.

   "No," she panted, trying to buck my hips off her.  I used my hips to
push her back down, and realized that if we had been naked, her last
movement would have looked exactly like a woman in the throes of passion
trying to get a man's entire dick inside her.  With that thought, I lost
control, cumming in my underwear.  Almost instantly Mandi's struggles
stopped, although her hips still pressed up against me.  There was no way
she could miss the pulsating bar of iron trying to press two layers of
cloth into her pussy.  Instead of exclaiming her shock, however, she tried
freeing her hands (which she almost succeeded doing in my distraction).  My
orgasm ended, the pulsating stopped, and Mandi closed her eyes.  "Daddy
wins," she whispered.

   "Good," Amy said, standing up and walking toward the kitchen.  "Get
upstairs and get changed for supper."

   I let her up, wanting to talk to her, but too embarrassed to.  I had
just molested my daughter, and I didn't know how to talk to her anymore. 
Mandi didn't talk either.  She just walked up the stairs and went to her
room.

   Twenty minutes later, Katie came down and announced that Mandi had gone
to bed, claiming a stomach ache.  "Pissed of she didn't win, more likely,"
my wife said.  I could only hope that was the case and not because I had
done such an inappropriate thing to her.

   Mandi seemed to be her old self by Monday, not acting out and not moping
around after school.  Instead, she seemed energized despite being grounded,
planning her sister's afternoon of crafts and games.  Amy didn't know what
to think, shaking her head in wonderment.

   "I'm not sure what's going on with her, but she's all yours.  I have to
go to the store, so I should be back in an hour." She grabbed her keys and
headed off to do the weekly grocery shopping.

   Five minutes after the car pulled out of the drive, Mandi stepped in
front of me.  "Daddy, can I ask you a couple questions?"

   Dread filling my heart, I slowly nodded.  "Where's your sister?"

   "She's up in my room watching a movie." She settled on the couch next to
me.  "Um, about Friday," she began.  I went to interrupt, but she held up
her hand.  I don't think anyone had ever gotten away with that with me, but
the guilt of what had happened Friday gave her an edge.  "I was talking to
a couple of my friends about what happened - no I didn't say anything about
you; they think I have a boyfriend.  Anyway, I asked them about boys and
sex, and they all had answers, but I think half of what they know isn't
right, cause Allison seemed to know things, so I asked her separate, and
she said her and her daddy have been having sex since she turned eight, and
sometimes it hurts her a lot cause she doesn't really want to do it, but
her mommy told her to do what her daddy said, and then she died, and
Allison has to do what her daddy says, even sex, and she said ..."

   "Whoa, wait a minute," I said, finally interjecting.  "Are you saying
Allison Franks, the girl right down the street, is having...  being... 
getting...  with her dad?"

   Mandi nodded.  "She says that if his thingy gets hard, it hurts a lot
unless he finishes, and when he finishes, his thingy leaks stuff out, but
only she can help him finish, and only in her privates or in her mouth."
She looked at me like saying those things embarrassed her, but she didn't
look embarrassed at all.  "Does it hurt?  I mean, if it gets all hard and
you don't finish?"

   "Before I answer, you have to promise never to tell anyone about this.
That includes your friends, your mom, everyone, ok?" Mandi nodded her
agreement.  "Ok, first of all, it can hurt a little.  Guys call that blue
balls, because their testicles - um, do you know what testicles are?"

   Mandi shook her head.  "Ok, testicles are things that hang below a man's
penis that holds sperm.  Anyway, if a man get excited and doesn't ...  what
did you call it, finish?  Ok, fine.  If a man doesn't finish, the testicles
can hurt because they made sperm and now it's not being used.  Do you
understand?"

   "I think so.  Allison called it blue balls too, but I thought she was
just making it up."

   "No, those are real."

   "Oh.  Does yours leak stuff when you finish?"

   "Yes, that's what holds the sperm I told you about."

   "I wonder if that's what mommy was talking about."

   "Huh?"

   "Mommy was doing the laundry Saturday, and she was saying how you had
stuff in your underpants, and then she went upstairs, and when she came
back down, she was laughing and said that they were all there and she
couldn't understand why she would think an impotent bastard like him could
be cheating.  What is impotent daddy?"

   I swallowed.  "It means I have a tough time getting my penis hard."

   Mandi looked at me like I was crazy.  "It got hard Friday, didn't it? 
And the Friday before?"

   "Yes, honey, but I've had some trouble doing that when your mommy and I
are trying to have sex."

   "Is it true you have to finish inside a girl's privates or mouth?  I
think that sounds gross."

   "No man has to do that inside a girl.  It sounds like Allison's dad lied
to her to get what he wanted.  And it's not gross as long as the person
washes well."

   "Oh.  Have you ever thought about having sex with me?"

   I looked at my eleven year old daughter in all seriousness.  "Before a
couple of weeks ago, I had never thought about you as a growing young
woman. Even now, though, I would never, and I mean never force you to do
stuff like Allison's dad does to her."

   Mandi nodded, then stood up.  "I'm going to go upstairs now.  Good
night." She gave me a peck on the cheek and walked quickly up the stairs. I
heard Katie protest as the movie was turned off, then silence as doors were
shut.

   Then no problems, no arguments, and no more questions from Mandi for the
rest of the week.  Friday, I got home, and no shouting, no arguments - it
was peaceful when I walked through the door, and I was hoping it would stay
quiet for the rest of the night.

   That didn't quite happen.  Two hours after I got home, after I had
changed from my work clothes into a tee shirt and sweats, the kitchen
exploded in loud voices.  Apparently, Mandi tried sneaking out, this time
in both parts of the bikini with a scarf tied around her waist in a type of
makeshift skirt.

   As soon as I walked into the kitchen, Amy pointed at me, then Mandi,
then at the living room.  Without a word, we walked through the door.  I
was desperately hoping she wouldn't force me to wrestle Mandi, though.  In
sweat pants, there was no way I could hide any sort of erection.

   My wife turned to me.  "Pin her.  On the ground.  Now.  None of that
crap from last week.  Supper will be done in thirty minutes, so if you
can't pin her in that time, neither of you will eat.  Got it?"

   With that, she turned around and strode from the room.  I looked at my
daughter, she looked at me, then she moved like greased lightning. 
Directly at me.

   Startled, I returned her hug, and reveled in the feel of her arms going
around me.  "We have to wrestle," she whispered.  "If we don't mommy won't
let us eat." I shook my head in confusion.  "Come on, daddy, throw me on
the ground like last week.

   I repeated my movements from last week, ending again with me lying
between Mandi's legs, her arms pinned above her head.  Amy peeked in the
room once while I was trying to get Mandi to spread her legs, but that was
the only resistance the eleven year old showed.  As soon as Amy ducked back
into the kitchen, Mandi relaxed her legs, and I was once again lying with
my hardon running along the crease of her pussy.

   "Go ahead and finish daddy, it's ok."

   I started pumping my hips, humping my eleven year old daughter into the
living room floor.  I was close to cumming, but Mandi stopped me.  "Daddy,
don't finish yet.  Mommy will see the stuff in your underpants and wonder
about it again." She pulled her hands, and I let them go.

   I thought she was going to try and get up, but instead her hands went
between us, and I was amazed to feel her hands pawing at the waistband of
my sweats!  "If it's outside your pants, mommy won't know what it is," she
explained as she grasped my hard dick and pulled it free from my pants.

   "Ok, now finish," she whispered.  My naked dick could feel the heat
baking out of her immature little pussy, and I quickly pressed against her,
reveling in the feel of her silky bikini bottoms rubbing the upper surface
of my dick.

   "Ouch," she whispered.  "That pinched me."

   I shifted my hips and started humping, but she instantly started
complaining that I was pinching her.  I started lifting myself off her, but
Mandi held me down.  "Hold on, let me try something else."

   She reached between us again, adjusting the way my dick lay against the
thin cloth of her bikini, then sighed in frustration.  "You gotta lift up a
little, daddy."

   I raised my hips, and she adjusted me again.  The head of my dick felt
strange, but she said, "Ok, daddy, now try it," and I could only do what
she said.

   I pressed forward, almost desperate for the feeling of her heat against
the top of my dick, when two things shattered their way through everything.
First was the hiss of pain from Mandi escaping through her clenched teeth.
Second was the fact that even though her arms were currently wrapped around
my chest, her hands surrounded my dick in a vice grip that was both
extremely tight and wet.

   Then I realized what that vice actually was.  Here I was, not thirty
feet from where my wife was making supper, on top of my eleven year old
daughter, with my dick buried to the hilt in her underage little pussy.

   I tried to pull out, but with her arms wrapped around my chest, hands
locked behind my back, and her feet locked around my ass, all I
accomplished was lifting her off the ground, my dick firmly planted inside
her.

   "Don't, daddy.  If you stop now, then you hurt me for nothing, and you
have pain too.  Please finish.  Finish before mommy comes back in."

   I looked her in her eyes, and even though they were filled with pain, I
could tell she was serious, so I lowered her back to the floor.  "Ok, baby,
if you're sure."

   She nodded and loosened her legs a little, and I pulled out until only
the head was inside her pussy.  I pushed forward, sinking into her again,
thinking she was the tightest woman, well girl, really, that I had ever
been with.

   I pulled out again, and then pushed back in, realizing that this
beautiful creature beneath me wouldn't have been possible without the dick
that was now buried inside her.  I could feel the cum bubbling in my balls,
getting ready to fire.

   I pulled out, feeling every ridge of muscle on the inside of my baby's
pussy, then pressed back in, fucking her eleven year old frame to the
floor. I pressed harder than ever, the familiar feel of orgasm overtaking
me, then culminating with jet after jet of semen shooting from the tip of
my dick and straight against Mandi's cervix.

   With a final, gasping shudder, I collapsed on top of her, making sure I
wasn't smothering her.  After a moment or two I became aware of my
surroundings.  Here I was (still) laying on top of my underage daughter,
with my still hard dick buried balls deep in her underage pussy, still only
thirty feet or so away from my wife who was probably just finishing dinner,
and my cum was seeping into my eleven year olds womb.

   I struggled to raise myself off her, and this time she did not fight me.
She simply reached between us again and adjusted her bathing suit bottoms
so fast her pussy was covered almost before my dick had fully withdrawn.  I
looked down and noticed my dick was bright with our combined sex fluids,
and pink with her virginal blood.  What I had done hit me like a ton of
bricks.

   "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry.  I don't know how I could have ..."

   "Stop, daddy.  It's ok.  I wanted it, and I did it, not you."

   "But I shouldn't have started it in the first place," I moaned, knowing
she was going to hate me forever.  "Don't worry, that will never happen
again!" I lifted myself off her and tucked my dick into my pants, still
kneeling between her spread legs.

   "Daddy, we can do it again - if you want to at least." She looked down
at her undeveloped body.  "I know I don't really have boobies yet, and I'm
probably no good at sex, but if you want to all you gotta do is tell me and
I'll go and get my almost naked clothes and make sure mommy sees me - I
don't mind getting in trouble if I do it for you, and ..."

   This time I interrupted.  "First of all, I think you're beautiful, so
don't even think of putting yourself down.  Second, I have never felt that
good,"

   "Even with mommy?"

   "Even with mommy.  I have never felt anything near that good in my
entire life.  I would do that with you every day if I could."

   "I think mommy would get suspicious if I got in trouble for clothes
every day, though."

   "Yeah," I said.  "Not only that, but I doubt you mom would leave us
alone that long every day either, don't you?  That's beside the point.  I
don't care what your friend said, daddies are not supposed to have sex with
their daughters, especially when they are as young as you are."

   "So does that mean daddies can have sex with their daughters when they
get older?"

   "Most people say no, but..."

   "Well, you like it, and I like making you feel good, so if I say it's
ok, and you really like it, we can do sex whenever you want to, ok?"

   I nodded, not able to speak.  My eleven year old daughter had just given
me an open invitation to her body whenever I wanted, and no matter how much
my mind may rebel against the idea of sex with Mandi; my body was reacting
like it had been on a sex strike for the last ten years, tenting the front
of my sweats.  Mandi raised herself onto her elbows, looking at my obvious
erection.  "Did you want to do sex again, daddy?"

   The question almost drove me out of my mind, and in that instant I
wanted to fuck her, not just three or four pumps and filling her with cum,
but fucking and fucking, hours without end and damn the consequences, but
that instant passed as I realized just what the consequences would end up
being; divorce, prison time, never seeing my family again, etc.

   I reached for her, and somehow managed to grab for her arms instead of
her breast buds, and helped her get to her feet.  "Honey," I said, thinking
quick, but hard, "I would, without a doubt, love to do sex with you again,
but do you really think we would have time before your mommy comes back
in?" Mandi shook her head.  "Maybe later, ok?"

   Mandi nodded.  "But won't you get blue balls or whatever you called it?"

   "No, not after what we already did, ok?  Now, go upstairs, clean this
really good," I said, gently touching the cloth now covering her little
pussy, "and change your clothes for supper, ok?"

   I rose up on my knees, and pulled her to me.  My head was at her
breasts, and I rested my head against her chest.  I could hear her heart
beating fast.

   "I love you, daddy," Mandi said, letting go and leaning forward for a
kiss.  While it was definitely an innocent kiss, it was also not a "proper"
father/daughter kiss.  Her mouth pressed hard against mine for several
seconds before she turned and ran upstairs.  Bemused, I watched her run. 
It was already difficult to believe I had just had sex with my daughter,
but the truth of it was one I would never deny - at least to myself.  And,
if we did "do sex" again as Mandi said, I would have (hopefully) reminder
after reminder.

   To Be Continued

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

   As I stated at the beginning, this is entirely fiction.  I write
fiction, and do not believe fiction should be censored, but neither should
it be followed.  If you have an urge to have sex with a child, seek
immediate help, or cut off your pecker.  Kids need to be cherished, not
ravaged, protected, not exploited.

   As an author, I appreciate any kind of constructive feedback for my
work. I do not write for profit, so the only payment I get is knowing what
my readers think.
   Fitfully Yours(fitfully_yours@hotmail.com)