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Club 12
by Maynard (pinthesky2@yahoo.com)

***

Uptight man gets loosened up by his young daughter. 
(Mf, ped, inc)

***

Our youngest daughter, Oona, is nine years younger than 
the other children. 

Mary had the first two, the twins Emily and James, when 
we were still in college, and ended up moving back from 
the school we were attending and living in my mother's 
house. 

She helped us take care of the kids while we finished 
school. That was a lifesaver. I don't know what we 
would have done without her help. But it was tough, 
with two infants, and all the coursework. We got our 
degrees and scrimped and struggled and never got enough 
sleep and finally had enough saved for the down payment 
on a house in the same neighborhood, and just as we 
were about to buy it, my mom's car was hit by a dump 
truck and she died, and we found out she'd left her 
house and money to us. 

So we had all that money saved, and the extra from 
mom's will, and a paid-off house. We took a few 
thousand bucks and Mary and I went on a big vacation. 
We weren't careful, and she got pregnant, and Oona was 
the result.

"So?" you ask, "why wasn't your wife on the pill?" 
Because she's a Catholic, and as strict as they come. 
She says that you don't pick and choose what you think 
and do, you adhere to the religion, or you're not a 
Catholic at all. The Pope's the boss, and his word is 
final. That includes what he says about birth control 
and abortion. So we stopped having sex altogether after 
Oona was born. 

I pleaded and begged, and pointed out that the sperm 
was no more being wasted if it went in her than if I 
had a nocturnal emission. But she wouldn't listen. 
There was nothing to be done about it, short of raping 
her, which I'm not the kind of man to do, and which 
would have broken up our happy family. And we do have a 
happy family; we're close, and our kids are good, 
respectful kids. 

So I put up with the lack of sex from my wife. I've 
slipped a few times. Once in a while, when I'm away on 
a business trip, I buy a lap dance. Once I even bought 
a bed dance. And I had a brief affair with a co-worker, 
but she moved away. The affair barely lasted a month.

Oona was always different from the older kids. She 
liked to run around naked. I caught her a few times 
experimenting sexually with her playmates, and she was 
so young she was in preschool. She just always seemed 
to be heavily into her body, into feeling it, and 
feeling things on it. Getting her to keep her clothes 
on when the weather was warm was a real chore. When she 
was little I had to follow her around. And the only 
clothes she was willing to wear were skimpy. This 
bothered Mary no end. A lot of the big family fights 
were about this.

Oona seemed knowing in other ways, too. She seemed to 
understand what sex was about by the third grade. Oona 
told me later, after the story I'm about to tell you, 
that her older sister used to have sex with her 
boyfriend during the middle of school days. Since we 
lived two blocks from the school, they would sneak home 
during lunch hour and have quick sex. 

Oona was in grade school, but on the days she stayed 
home with a babysitter tending her, she somehow 
discovered what her sister was up to, and she would 
hide in her sister's bedroom closet and watch through 
the slats. Her sister and the boy would sneak in the 
window, throw off their clothes, and silently go at it 
on the floor. Oona said they did everything: oral sex, 
anal sex, you name it. This must have made quite an 
impression on a nine-year old girl.

I caught her with a boy when she was eleven, and we had 
the Conversation. I told her all the problems: 
pregnancy, a ruined reputation, the sin of it (Mary 
made sure all the kids were raised Catholic), how it 
would hurt her mother. She listened to me and wept, and 
promised to do better.

I caught her again, with the same boy, behind the 
garage a month later. She had her little Catholic 
schoolgirl plaid skirt flipped up over her butt. She 
was leaning against the garage, her panties on the 
grass, and Jimmy was plowing her from behind. 

"Hey!" I yelled.

The expression on his face would have been funny in 
another context. He pulled out and ran off without 
bothering to pick up his books. Oona stood up straight, 
without looking at me.

"Put your panties on," I said, and she did. "What were 
you thinking? Right out in plain sight like that? Your 
mother would kill you. No, your mother would have a 
heart attack and die. You're too young. You could get 
pregnant. You promised me you wouldn't."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. She was crying. She only 
cried when she was in trouble. She never cried at 
funerals. She didn't even cry when her dog died. But if 
she got caught, the waterworks started. I don't mean 
they were insincere. They weren't. She was afraid, and 
panicked, and remorseful, and she cried.

"Honey. Sorry? Sorry won't take care of a baby, if you 
get pregnant."

"I made him wear a rubber," she mumbled.

That was right. I'd been too stunned to notice at the 
moment, but in memory, I had seen one. That was 
something to be grateful for. But I had a lesson to 
teach.

We rarely spanked the older kids. I could probably 
count the number of times on one hand. But Oona seemed 
to take lessons better through her butt than her ears, 
and we spanked her on a fairly regular basis. I left 
Jimmy's books on the ground; it looked like rain, and I 
hoped he didn't have the guts to come back for them and 
they were ruined and his parents had to buy new ones. 
But in the meantime, Oona and I took the trip to the 
basement.

I started with the opening words of the ritual: "Do you 
know why I'm doing this?"

She was supposed to answer by saying what she'd done 
wrong, but she said, "Yes."

"Do you know why I'm doing this?"

"Because I let Jimmy fuck me?"

"Don't use that word! You're eleven years old. You let 
Jimmy have sex with you. Can you say that."

"I let Jimmy have sex with me."

"Now bend over and grab your ankles."

When she did, and I saw her legs all the way up to her 
panties, that was the first time I thought of my 
daughter as a sexual being, and the first time I wanted 
her. I hadn't even thought of it the two times I'd 
caught her with Jimmy. But that Catholic schoolgirl 
outfit, and the white panties, and the skinny girl legs 
gave me an instant erection, an erection that only got 
harder while I whipped her with my belt. I wanted to 
put her over my knee and spank her with my hand, but 
she would have wondered about that, since we never did 
it that way.

She was always tough, I'll give her that. I laid into 
her like I never had before, twenty hard ones. Even 
through the panties I could see the red stripes, and 
there were stripes on the backs of her thighs when I 
missed. She moaned and sniffled, but she never 
screamed, not even this time, and I was really getting 
into it. You know how when you were a kid and you were 
roughhousing with someone and you had your hands on 
their neck and it would be so easy to keep going and 
actually strangle them, and you almost gave in to the 
temptation? This time it would have been easy to keep 
spanking until I turned my daughter's ass into mush. 

Every time I'd read about a parent doing that, and 
killing the child, I wondered what kind of monsters 
those men and women were. Now I knew. That was the idea 
that stopped me. I didn't want to be a monster. I loved 
my daughter. Now, I was afraid I was starting to love 
her in a different way. I was afraid I would become a 
different kind of monster if I kept thinking of her 
naked and in my arms, or astride my cock. I was 
spanking her so hard because of my fear, and my self-
hate. I was making her my scapegoat.

We always kiss after a spanking. This time, when she 
stood up, she noticed the erection inside my Dockers 
and then looked up at me and kissed me -- and brushed 
herself against me! We both had our eyes open, and I 
saw hers widen, and she looked down at my crotch again, 
and her eyes narrowed. She looked up at me, and the two 
seconds or so seemed much, much longer than a mere two 
seconds, and my face started to feel hot. Then she 
turned away and straightened her skirt and hobbled up 
the stairs. But her skirt looked shorter than before. 

Had she shortened it by rolling in the waistband when 
she straightened it? 

Mary asked me that night, "Why did you spank Oona this 
afternoon?"

"What did she tell you about it?"

"Nothing. I noticed she was having trouble sitting at 
dinner, and I asked her later, and she said you spanked 
her."

Mary was undressing. God, she's hot. Living with her is 
perpetual torment. Her clothes aren't revealing, but 
every night when she takes them off, she's naked for a 
minute or two before she puts on that old, worn flannel 
nightgown. I don't have anyone to compare myself to, 
maybe I'm not normal, but I think about sex all the 
time, and my wife's body aggravates the problem. Her 
tits are a C or a D, depending on the model of bra, and 
they haven't sagged much. 

She has round hips and a big round ass, but not sloppy. 
Everything has held up well. She has a round stomach, 
too, but it's sexy: not fat, no big sloppy handles on 
the side, it sort of juts out the way a fit woman's 
does, but round and smooth instead of hard. Mary's body 
always looks inviting, and it's going to waste.

I couldn't help comparing it to Oona's. Oona still had 
a little girl's body. Her 

breasts had barely started to bud. She didn't like to 
wear a bra, naturally -- given her dislike of any kind 
of clothes, an article that binding would drive her up 
the wall. But lately when she wore a tee shirt around 
the house she had little thimbles under it. And she 
liked to wear those little shorts that barely covered 
her ass. Her legs were incredibly firm, and her ass was 
not a little girl's: it was round and stuck straight 
out, like a dancer's.

Mary had just pulled the nightgown over her head. 
"What's that?" she asked, pointing at my crotch. It was 
warm in the room, I'd flipped the covers off of me, and 
my penis was sticking straight out of my pajamas.

"You," I said. "You do that to me."

"That part of the marriage is over," she said. "I 
thought you knew that by now."

"If God didn't want us to have sex, why did he make us 
man and woman? Sex is natural."

"Sex also leads to pregnancy, and I'm not having any 
more kids."

"What the hell does the Pope know? He's celibate. Who 
made him the expert?"

"The Church." She rolled over and turned out the light 
without saying goodnight.

I had a dream that night that Oona was pregnant. Mary 
was a horse, and Oona was riding her at a gallop. The 
motion brought on the labor, and when the baby came 
out, it looked exactly like me. In fact, it was me, 
just a smaller version. I was even dressed like an 
adult. Neat trick, being born fully dressed. Still, 
there was something deeply kinky about the dream, and I 
couldn't get it out of my head, but I couldn't figure 
it out, either.

I couldn't get back to sleep. The clock showed 
midnight, so I went down to the kitchen and opened the 
refrigerator and poured a glass of milk. Maybe it would 
help. After I'd drunk it, I turned the light off and 
was headed back upstairs when I heard sounds from the 
basement. I listened at the door. Someone was moaning.

It was dark on the stairs, and I groped my way down. 
The house has been well maintained, and there weren't 
any creaky steps. When I neared the bottom, I saw the 
blue flicker of the television set. In the dim light, 
my youngest daughter was sitting on the sofa and 
watched a porn movie.

Now, we don't get the porn channels, so I was baffled 
for a moment. Then I realized she must be watching a 
tape or DVD. I took two more steps, and I saw that she 
was wearing her bedtime outfit of tee shirt and tiny 
shorts, and her hand was in the front of her shorts. I 
couldn't make out any movement, because it was too 
dark, but there were only two reasons to have her hand 
there, and since hadn't just peed and didn't need to 
wipe, one of the reasons didn't apply. I listened 
carefully. Under the moans coming from the tv set, I 
heard her breath getting faster and faster.

This was my eleven-year-old daughter, watching a porn 
movie and masturbating, and I was as aroused I'd been 
in years. I even smelled her. I couldn't hear any of 
the sloppy liquid sounds I expected her fingers were 
making, but that was only because the tv covered them 
up.

Then I looked at the screen. I recognized the kids. 
They were from my daughter's class -- not Oona's class, 
but a girl and two boys from the high school. The girl 
was taking it doggy style while the second boy 
masturbated. Then she took his penis between her lips. 
I almost keeled over. I'd never had a blowjob in my 
life, because Mary thought it was a sin, so I'd always 
wondered what it felt like. Things I'd overheard about 
them made me think they might be even better than 
regular sex. 

Here was a high school boy getting one from a classmate 
of my twins, and my younger daughter was watching the 
movie and masturbating. I wasn't angry. I was simply 
amazed, and jealous. I wanted in. If that was the way 
kids lived today, I'd been born twenty years too early.

I went back to bed, but I didn't sleep. That afternoon, 
I made excuses about not feeling good and came home 
from work early. I went around the entire house, 
checking every room and making sure I was alone. There 
were two hours before anyone else got home, and I put 
them to good use, but I couldn't find the video. 

I checked everywhere in Oona's room, and I checked 
Emily's and James' rooms. I checked the garage, and 
looked for secret nooks and crannies everywhere, even 
the panty -- I mean, pantry. Then it dawned on me that 
the one place I hadn't checked was the basement.

It took almost an hour to find the video, hidden behind 
some books in the shelf where the kids sometimes study. 
There was no telling who put it there. Not Oona; she 
doesn't study much, and always in the kitchen, where 
she had the most chances to be distracted. She hates 
studying. It had to be either Emily or James. But I 
wasn't ready to confront them with it yet. I wanted to 
copy it first.

I set my mental alarm clock for two when I went to bed, 
and woke up around that time. 

The house was completely silent. This time, Oona wasn't 
in the basement watching the movie. I took it upstairs 
to the PC and copied it from the DVD to the hard drive. 
Then, while it burned to another DVD, I watched it from 
the hard drive, sound muted. I made a mental note to 
wipe it from the drive so it couldn't ever be found. At 
the point where the girl and the boys had their clothes 
off, I opened the fly of my pajamas and worked my penis 
out. 

Mentally I compared mine to theirs. Mine was much 
superior. Even in high school I'd had one of the 
biggest ones in the locker room, and now that it was 
fully grown it was a nice specimen. I don't know how 
long it is, but I'd say it's in the top ten per 
centile. I started to pump it, thinking how it would 
fit between that girl's lips. Thinking how I'd like her 
to be in that same position as the movie, on her hands 
and knees, and I'd give it to her in the mouth first, 
then move around behind her. Imagining how soft and 
clinging her vagina would feel.

"Dad, what are you doing?"

The sound of Oona's voice lifted me out of my chair. I 
turned away from her and shoved my penis back into in 
the pajamas and closed my robe over it. Reaching out 
with my right hand, I minimized the movie so Oona 
wouldn't see it. Then I turned around.

Too late. She'd obviously seen the movie, and she'd 
probably seen what I'd been doing, too.

"Oona!" I scolded. "You should be sleeping. Go back to 
bed."

She looked at me with an expression of wonder on her 
face. "Why are you watching that?"

"What?"

"That movie?" She came over to me, reached past, and 
clicked on it, and the movie was playing on the screen 
again. She pointed at it. "Why?"

"Oona, I told you to go to bed." I used my sternest 
voice.

It didn't cut any ice with her. "You're old. Why are 
you watching that movie?"

I minimized it again. "Go to bed!" I grabbed her arm 
and dragged her out of the room, but she opened her 
mouth. I was hurting her. "Oh, sorry, baby."

She stood there, rubbing her arm. I was hoping it 
wouldn't be bruised. "You hurt me," she whined.

"Let's go put some ice on it." We went to the kitchen, 
and I filled a towel with ice cubes and wrapped it 
around her arm. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I would never hurt 
you. You understand? I love you. I don't want to hurt 
you."

"You hurt me when you spanked me. You never spanked me 
that hard before."

"I... I was upset because of what you did. It's very 
serious, having sex. It's not for children. You're 
still a child."

"Is that girl in the movie a child?"

"Uh... I don't know." Ouch. Now I'd admitted that I'd 
been watching the movie. I couldn't

deny that it had been playing on the monitor. The 
elephant in the living room was plain to see now that 
we'd agreed he was there.

She waited, and finally said, "Why do you watch? Don't 
you and Mommy have sex?"

"Oh, Christ," I thought, but aloud I only groaned.

"You don't!" she exclaimed. "That's why you watch! Oh, 
poor Dad!" She hugged me then.

At least this time I didn't get an erection. There was 
no way she would have missed that. 

But a moment later she startled me.

"Do you want me to help you?"

"What?"

"Do you want me to help you?" She dropped to her knees 
and untied the sash of my robe. It fell open. She 
pulled the fly of my pajama open and looked inside, 
almost as if she was looking into an animal's lair and 
wondering whether it would appear. In a moment, it did. 
"It's not sex if you do it with your mouth," she 
whispered.

She was too short, so she raised up, squatting instead 
of kneeling, and took the head of my penis between her 
lips and simply held it there. I groaned again. "Oh, 
honey," I said, and grasped her ears.

She touched the tip of the penis with her tongue, 
lightly, a few taps. Then she moved her mouth an inch 
or two along the shaft, then out, then back in. She'd 
hooked a hand around the back of one of my thighs to 
steady herself.

I looked down. Her mouth was grotesquely stretched. I 
couldn't see how she could get her little eleven-year-
old lips around a penis the size of mine, but somehow 
she was managing to. She seemed to be enjoying it, too, 
because her free hand was in her shorts again, and she 
was rubbing at herself with a frenzied movement. But 
the in and out of her head was calm and deliberate; she 
seemed to have all the time in the world, there. "Oh, 
honey, stop," I said.

She ignored me and kept steadily moving her mouth up 
and down the shaft, her lips rolling in and out with 
the movement. It was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen, 
and I started shooting.

She seemed to have some experience with this, because 
she stopped then. I couldn't figure out where the sperm 
was going -- there had to be a lot of it, and it wasn't 
coming out of her mouth, and she wasn't swallowing. 
Then I remembered the times she opened her throat and 
poured a Coke straight down it. She was letting my 
sperm go down her throat the same way. This only made 
me shoot harder. My vision grayed and blurred, and 
little stars danced in front of my eyes, and I swayed. 
I managed to stay upright, barely.

When I stopped coming, she swallowed, but remained 
crouched, my penis still in her mouth. Then she sucked, 
and the little bit that remained inside me came out 
into her mouth, and she swallowed it.

She held my cock in her hand and took her mouth off it, 
then leaned back in and gave the top a kiss. "There," 
she said. She looked up at me. "Hold it up," she said.

I held it, and watched her go the drawer where we keep 
the clean kitchen washcloths. She took one to the sink 
and ran warm water over it and soaped it up, and 
brought it back and tenderly washed my penis. Then she 
went back for a towel and dried me. She gave the penis 
another kiss and started to put it back inside my 
pajamas.

"Oh, look," she said. "He's still lonely." She pulled 
him back out.

"No, honey, no." I was in a panic. She was squatting in 
front of me again. But it was too late. She took my 
cock between her lips. This time she leaned one hand 
against my thigh while she stroked the cock with the 
other hand. When her lips went in, her hand came out, 
meeting in the middle, then she'd take her lips back 
out to the tip, and her hand down to the root again.

I lasted longer this time, and the orgasm was sweet 
agony, coming too soon after the first one. This time 
she masturbated to orgasm while she held the softening 
cock between her lips. When she came, she leaned back 
and fell on her butt, her legs flying up and out into 
the air. She lay on her back and shook from head to 
foot, a sort of whinnying sound coming out of her 
mouth. It dawned on me then the risk we were taking. 
Mary might hear, and wake up, and come downstairs.

I lifted my little girl in my arms and carried her down 
the basement stairs and dumped her 

on the couch. I ran upstairs, popped out the DVDs, shut 
off the PC, and ran back down to the basement and 
replaced the original DVD exactly where it had been. I 
put the copy in the pocket of my robe.

My little sweetheart was lying on the sofa sound 
asleep. I lifted her in my arms. She put her little-
girl arms around my neck and sighed. Her eyes 
fluttered. She was half-awake when I tucked her into 
bed.

She held up her arms. "Kiss me goodnight."

I leaned down and kissed her on the lips. It was a long 
kiss, and warm, but without any tongue. She kissed 
everywhere on my face next: chin, nose, eyes, ears.

"I have to kiss Atlas now."

"Atlas?" I asked.

"Your penis, silly." She giggled. "We're studying 
ancient history. Atlas was the strongest. So that's the 
name I'm giving it." She rolled onto her side and 
reached in my pajamas and fished him out and gave him a 
kiss on the tip.

God help me, but it was getting hard again. I said, 
"Wait," and hurried to her door and closed it and 
locked it. Then I came back. "Move over," I said.

She slid over and I took off the robe and pajamas and 
slid in next to her. 

"Take off your shirt and shorts," I said. She was out 
of them in a moment. "Come here." I pulled on her, to 
show her that she should lower her pussy onto my face.

She got the idea instantly, sucking on my cock while I 
ate her out. In less than a minute she was coming 
again. By my count, which might be wrong, because her 
orgasms followed each other so quickly, she came five 
times before I did. By then her face was up in the air 
and she was whimpering, so I came on my own stomach, 
purely out of excitement, without any stimulation.

She rolled over and curled up and fell instantly to 
sleep.

I put her clothes back on her, took a shower in the 
children's bathroom so Mary wouldn't hear, and went 
back to the kitchen for another drink of milk. But I 
ended up standing there, staring at my own reflection 
in the window and wondering what was to become of me 
and my daughter. I couldn't let this happen again. The 
danger was too great, in too many ways.

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 42