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Archive name: lost.txt (M/g, ped, inc, reluc, sn)
Authors name: Phoebe (phoenlxarlzona@aol.com)
Story title : When I Lost It

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

When I Lost It (M/g, fath/daught, inc, ped, rel, sn)
by Phoebe (phoenlxarlzona@aol.com)

***

This story contains non-consensual sex, violence and 
acts not appropriate in a civilized society. Neither 
the author nor this archive condones such actions in 
real life. This story was written as an unusual fantasy
and was not meant to offend anyone who may have been 
subject to real violence in their life. Why can't we 
all just do unto others as we would have others do 
unto us?

***

Dear reader: Yes, I know this story is a departure 
for me, but I felt compelled to write it. My friend 
Sandy who now lives in prison and will do so for 40 
more years was more of a victim than a perpetrator. 
She was made into what she was by a father who 
didn't know right from wrong.

***

Why had he done it? Why couldn't he have just 
humored me? Why did he have to antagonize me like 
that?

My Daddy's dead and I'm the one who killed him. 
What now? My life will end with this one act, even 
if the authorities don't punish me I know it's all 
over for me now.

From the very first moment that my father started 
acting scary and different I realized something bad 
would happen to me, I just didn't know that I'd end 
up killing him. I never thought it would come to 
that...

***

It all began such a long time ago; I think I 
couldn't have been more than 6-years-old at the 
time. I'm not totally sure what age I was; back 
when you're a kid time isn't all that important.

But I do remember that first time. It was after 
dark and my Mom had put me to bed like always. But 
when Dad came up to "tuck" me in I remember that he 
acted strange, he was nervous and kept clearing his 
throat and he looked sweaty.

He sat down on the bed beside me and when he leaned 
down to kiss me goodnight he held my head and 
pressed his lips against mine. At first I just 
kissed him back like I always did, but when he 
didn't stop, and when he held my head and pushed 
his tongue into my mouth I was so surprised that I 
struggled with him.

He continued to hold my head and kept him mouth on 
mind. I clenched my teeth so he couldn't stick his 
tongue inside my mouth anymore, but I couldn't do 
anything else.

I remember that I was frightened by his actions 
that I wanted to cry. I couldn't understand why he 
was treating me like some grown-up woman in the 
movies. I knew that his kiss was sexual even though 
I didn't know what sex was. I was six - not stupid.

When Dad finally sat back up he looked at me and 
nervously apologized for scaring me. He made it 
plain that he hadn't meant to do it, but that he 
and Mom hadn't been close with each other in a long 
time and that he'd just lost it.

That's the term he used, "lost it," I would come to 
know that term well over the next few years.

That was all he did to me that first time. He just 
apologized for scaring me and then got up, turned 
out the light and closed the door behind him.

I lay there for a long time in shock. I guess 
looking back I didn't know what had happened and I 
didn't realize that I was in shock, I just knew 
that something had changed in my life and that I no 
longer felt safe.

***

My father didn't come to my room to tuck me in the 
next night, or for almost a week. Being so young I 
was able to push the thoughts and fears to the back 
of my mind after a few days. So when my Dad came 
into my room to "tuck me in" again I reached up for 
him and let him hug me.

But I was in for another surprise, it wasn't a 
fatherly hug, it was a full body hug. He picked me 
up out of the bed and pressed my small body against 
his. I remember feeling his body pressing hard 
against mine and I knew that his penis was hard and 
he was humping it against my stomach.

Yes I know, at six I couldn't really know what my 
Dad was doing, but I'd actually seen my father 
naked several times, once even while he and Mom 
made love to each other, so I had a vague idea.

Looking back from an adult perspective I believe 
that he seduced my mother while I was in their bed 
one night just so I would see him naked and bonking 
Mom. I guess the point I'm trying to make is that I 
knew what Dad was doing to me even if I was too 
young to know why, or the ramifications of what was 
happening.

That second time Dad didn't stop with just hugging 
and humping. After he'd "hugged" me for a while he 
laid me back down on the bed. I remember that I 
felt all out of breath and my body felt really 
strange and light. I didn't know that what we were 
doing was wrong, all I knew was that it made me 
feel weird and I couldn't look at Dad.

As I lay there looking away at the wall I felt him 
take my hand and he pulled at it. I felt my fingers 
bump into something smooth and warm.

I looked over to see what was happening and my eyes 
went wide at the sight of Dad's long stiff penis 
sticking out of his pants. My hand had been placed 
on his erection and he was holding it there, 
rubbing it against himself.

Dad whispered in a strained voice for me to grip 
it. I didn't know what else to do so I did as I was 
told. I remember feeling surprised when clear 
liquid came up from the little slit in his erect 
penis. The fluid was copious and soon coated his 
shaft and my fingers as well.

Then Dad began moving my hand up and down in his 
lap, slowly at first. He quietly groaned with 
pleasure and his penis slit emitted more and more 
of the clear lubrication as he moved my hand faster 
and faster on his shaft.

I remember the fear and anguish I felt when he 
groaned like he was in pain and white sticky gunk 
spurt out of his penis slit and high into the air. 
I thought I'd hurt him and started to cry, but I 
soon realized that he liked it and that he wanted 
me to keep moving my hand.

After a while Dad got up and apologized, saying 
that he'd needed it so badly that he'd just "lost 
it" and that he loved me for helping him. He went 
to the hall bathroom and got a wet washcloth and 
cleaned my fingers. Then he leaned down and kissed 
my gently on the lips and I knew that he loved me.

That kiss made me feel better and even the 
weirdness that had just taken place didn't seem to 
matter when I knew that my Dad "loved me" and I 
felt safe once again.

***

Over the next several months Dad would come into my 
room to "tuck me in" about once a week. And 
invariably he'd start out by kissing me like a 
grown up woman and then almost always he'd have me 
touch his naked penis until it spewed white stuff.

I know that I'm not using improper names for 
actions and reactions, but at that time I didn't 
know what to call anything and I'm trying to stay 
true to the moment by describing things as I 
remember then at the time they happened.

My birthday was on the 15th and Dad was going to 
take me on a fishing trip, just the two of us. Once 
I would have cherished that, but now I didn't 
really know him, and I was frightened of him 
because he was acting strange.

In my childish way I somehow convinced Mom to not 
let me go on the trip with Dad. I think he was 
hurt, I think he knew that I didn't want to be 
alone with him, because he didn't come to my room 
for a long time afterward.

Daddy also avoided me. He barely talked to me at 
the dinner table and after dinner he went out or 
worked in his study and ignored me. I was worried 
that he didn't love me any more. Even if I was a 
little afraid of him, I still loved my Dad and I 
desperately wanted him to love me.

Finally one night after dinner when Mom went next 
door to visit her friend and Dad went into his 
study I decided in my childish way to make up with 
Dad.

I often wonder if I'd just left well enough alone 
if things might have turned out differently. But I 
didn't leave well enough alone, I shyly approached 
Dad in his study and stood beside him and watched 
him work.

I realized that he was going to ignore me and I 
felt hurt. I knew what I needed to do to make him 
like me so I reached over and put my hand on his 
crotch. For a moment I thought he'd get angry with 
me, but the troubled look on his face lightened and 
he pushed his chair back from the desk and opened 
his legs.

I looked up at my Dad to see a contented smile on 
his face and I massaged him through his pants. Then 
he told me to undo his pants, and I did. I wanted 
him to like me again.

There it was, standing up straight and shiny, just 
like before. I wrapped the fingers of both hands 
around his shaft and began to move my hands up and 
down it as I'd been instructed in the past.

But this time Daddy wanted something more. He 
quietly said, "Lick it sweetie, lick Daddy's cock, 
c'mon sweetie, please do it for Daddy."

At first the idea of licking him there was 
repulsive to me, but I wanted him to like me again 
and I couldn't think of any way NOT to do it. So 
still moving my hands up and down I tentatively 
stuck my tongue out and licked the end where all 
the stuff comes out.

That's all it took. I got several shots of hot 
white Daddy-spew splattered all over my face. I 
hadn't realized what was happening until the third 
spurt slapped me across my nose. I jerked my face 
away and began to cry.

Daddy cuddled me and told me what a good girl I'd 
been and how much he loved me. He got up and went 
to the kitchen and brought back wet paper towels 
and washed my face and then kissed me and told me 
again that he loved me.

That night when Daddy came up to tuck me in, that's 
what he actually did, he kissed me and told me what 
a good little girl I was and that he loved me more 
than anyone else.

I went to sleep that night in perfect 
contentedness. My Daddy loved me again and now I 
knew what to do to make him keep loving me.

***

After that time in the study I sought HIM out. I 
always made sure that Mom was out or asleep when I 
approached Dad. It soon became a habit for Dad to 
"work" late in his study and when Mom went to bed, 
I'd hear her and sneak down to be with Dad.

It's strange what can seem normal to a small kid. I 
guess if you don't know anything else, even 
perverted behavior by your parents seems normal. I 
became my father's little blowjob/handjob whore and 
I didn't even know it.

Looking back I now realize that I was manipulated 
into doing things for Dad. He made me feel like he 
wouldn't love me if I didn't make him feel good. So 
I made sure to keep him very happy.

***

Over the next four years, we'd meet in his study 
two or three times a week, whenever Mom went to bed 
without Dad. But when I turned eleven Dad wanted to 
take me on that fishing trip "just the two of us" 
like he'd wanted to do when I was six.

This time I didn't try to get out of it. As I said 
before, I'd grown used to things the way they were. 
I even was beginning to feel my own arousal now. 
Actually I'd been feeling excited for almost a year 
by then.

Watching my Dad's body jerking and his head moving 
back and forth in pleasure gave me "pleasure" the 
kind of pleasure that confused me and excited me 
and left me with a "wanting" feeling, a vague 
feeling of unrest and a wetness between my legs 
that I hadn't mentioned to him.

Anyway we went on that fishing trip and my Dad 
ended up fucking me. I say fucking, because by then 
I knew what "fucking" was, I'd heard about it from 
friends who'd heard about it from friends. But I 
think I was the first girl in my group to actually 
"do" it.

I'd go into what happened that first time, but to 
be totally honest I'm not really sure what 
happened. We were in our sleeping bag, (Dad had 
zipped the two bags together) and we were talking 
about the day, then suddenly he moved over to me 
and shoved his dick into me and started fucking me.

I didn't know what to do, or how to react, so I 
just hugged him and held on. 

It didn't last very long and I was in pain most of 
the time. I think it was more that he was so big 
and I'd never had anything in me before. I do know 
that the next time there wasn't much pain and by 
the time we started fucking on a regular basis I 
was enjoying it as much as him.

***

I became my father's lover on that fishing trip and 
remained so for the next five years. All through 
high school I never had a boyfriend, I never dated 
and all the kids at school thought I was just a 
weird recluse.

What could I say to them? Sorry Charlie, but I'm 
already dating my Dad! Or No Neil, I can't let you 
fuck me; I'm already doing it with my Dad!

I don't think so.

So I ended up hanging out with the misfits in 
school. Being a teenager, it was impossible to be a 
complete loaner, I have to identify with something 
or someone. It's a growing time when kids are 
trying to find their identity and mine was stranger 
than any of my friends.

I slowly fell into the "Punk" scene, dying my hair 
jet black and then purple; shaving my body, once I 
even shaved my head in my junior year. (I got 
suspended for week and the school administrator 
made me wear a wig until my hair grew out enough. 
You should have seen my wigs! Bozo the clown comes 
to mind.)

My Dad tried to keep me on the straight and narrow, 
but with what I had on him, he couldn't push me too 
much. Plus if he wanted to get any sex, he had to 
lay off when I got pissed, or I'd tell him to fuck 
off when he came to me with a hardon.

Then I started getting into drugs and piercing and 
even a little mutilation and all the while my Mom 
was mystified and my Dad was miserable. He kept 
telling me that I was a beautiful kid and that I 
should treat my body with more respect.

One night just after I graduated from high school 
our relationship took a turn. I had shaved my head 
again into an 8" Mohawk and had stayed out all 
weekend doing sex, drugs and heavy metal and when I 
came home I looked pretty rugged.

Dad yelled at me, telling me that I looked like a 
cheap whore and that if I kept this up I'd be dead 
before I was twenty-five.

I wasn't feeling well, and I guess the pounding 
headache didn't help. I turned on him and yelled at 
the top of my voice, "If I look like a fucking 
whore, it's because you made me into one!"

Right as I said it I knew I'd really blown it. Mom 
was in the room and there were several neighbors in 
their front yards who I knew must have heard me.

I was standing there wearing my punk attire 
(leathers and shreds) with my Mohawk and I was 
yelling for the world to hear that my dear Dad had 
been molesting me.

As it turned out, everyone ignored me, except Dad 
of course. That little display had scared the shit 
out of him. The world had changed by then, sexually 
molesting your little girl could get you put away 
for life now, where back when it had all begun the 
penalties had been much less severe.

I'm not sure what snapped in Dad, but after that 
stupid incident he wouldn't let me touch him again. 
I tried seducing him time and again, but no matter 
what I did, or suggested he would rebuff me.

***

Several months after that incident Dad joined a 
church and began dragging Mom along with him every 
Sunday. Then to beat all, the shit began preaching 
at me to change my ways. He was calling me a harlot 
and a sinner. In private moments I called him a few 
choice names too, but he just said that he'd answer 
to god when his time came at he'd do good works 
until then.

What turned everything really bad was when Dad 
tried to have me committed. It was one of those 
interventions where you hire thugs to grab and 
"beat sense" in to you through a little tough love.

We'll I had just turned twenty-five and was pretty 
much living on my own, having abandoned my asshole 
father and now my quite mad mother to their fait, 
when I got grabbed.

I was held for seven days and made to do and say 
what they wanted to hear. They washed the mousse 
out of my Mohawk and pulled out all my studs, 
burned my clothing and preached to me for days on 
end.

I played along with them, what else could I do? 
Then finally the stupid bastards let me go.

But instead of going home to thank my father and 
mother for redeeming me, I went to a punker friend 
on mine and got some duds to wear and shaved my 
head and moussed my hawk and went to the mall and 
bought a stud for every hole I had including a 
custom one for my clit.

Then I went home to say hi to Daddy...

Like I said, I didn't mean to kill him, it was 
almost an out of body experience for me. But when 
he started calling me a whore and a sinner I just 
"lost it" as they say. I grabbed the gun I'd taken 
from my friend's house and made Dad go into his 
bedroom. The bedroom that we'd fucking in more 
times than I could remember.

When he started badgering me again I pulled the 
trigger. The force of the bullet hitting him in the 
face knocked him back onto the bed. His face had 
disappeared. I was in shock, I hadn't meant to do 
it.

I was numb all over as I climbed onto the bed next 
to my bleeding father and hugged him, I cried for 
both of us then. I knew that I'd ended two lives, 
and for what?

He'd called me a whore and a sinner? He made me 
into a whore and a sinner; he was my teacher, my 
lover and my father. The son of a bitch. I lay 
there, hugging him, listening to his breathing 
slow, then stop. Now all I had to do was wait and 
see what happened next...

END

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not "real life." Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 24