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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2006. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Emma
by Peter Pan (uds3@hotmail.com)
***
Even in the best families, you never know what secret
lives are being played out. Sometimes confessing to a
stranger seems like a good idea! (Mf, ped, inc, 1st,
mast, rom)
***
I received this "confession" if you like, from a man in
Western Australia just last week. He refers to himself
as "Phoenix" and in subsequent emailed communication,
has given me permission to reproduce his story here,
although I have where indicated, corrected his grammar,
and punctuation as well as amending his sometimes
unsupported phraseography. He is not proud of his
accomplishments and readily admits to being weak, if
not a slave to lust. My guess is that he is just one of
many fathers - some who have acted on their impulses -
many more who would dearly like to.
I have not submitted this that he should be judged one
way or the other. It is simply a case-study as might be
deemed "Harper Valley" itself. Strictly on account of
the girl's tender age, some readers will find the
unfolding events reprehensible - others possibly
tantalising. It is after all, much like beauty itself -
somewhat in the eyes of the beholder!
Herewith his communique.
"Dear Pan,
Reading many of your stories, one in particular - "It
Came Upon A Midnight Clear" struck a chord with me. I
have assumed this tale is true mainly because the
feelings you describe, mirror to some extent, the
experiences with my own very young daughter here in
suburban Perth.
I am sure you love your daughter/s dearly and you must
know how easily things can get out of hand.
I have had a fixation I suppose you would call it, with
Emma ever since she was eight or nine. I have managed
to keep my feelings from my wife (Emma is an only
child) and I am sure she had never suspected a thing.
It would destroy our marriage and obviously her trust
in me if she ever found out the truth, but I have
desperately wanted to confess my desires and lately -
actions - just to vindicate myself in some small way.
Of course, I can never do that. In writing to you, I am
in part clearing my conscience by openly sharing with
many readers (if you do decide to reproduce this) my
weakness and paternal downfall.
Emma has just turned eleven and what I am about to tell
you started when she was little more than nine.
No pun intended, but I suppose you could call me a
hands-on father. I had helped out with Emma's
upbringing right from the start. Changed as many
diapers as her mom and fed her just as often. From
babyhood I had bathed her, washed and dried her hair,
dressed her and all the things so many fathers should
do but haven't the time or inclination to fulfil.
Not surprisingly a strong father-daughter bond
developed and during her pre-school period she would
always find some excuse to "snuggle up with daddy" late
nights. Susan didn't care - her sleep on the far side
of the bed wasn't disturbed!
Throughout these years I never once had a sexual
thought about Emma - she was just my beautiful little
girl that I could never wait to get back home to. As a
family, we scaled the heights of contentment and loving
interaction.
I remember precisely the day something insinuated
itself into my subconscious.
I had taken Emma to one of those kids' playgrounds in a
neighboring park while her mom got dinner ready. Having
always push-started her on the swings, at eight now and
with a growing independence, she wanted to do it all by
herself, insisting I stand in front of the swing to
watch her progress.
It was I think her third down-swing when a gust of wind
blew her skirt up just marginally. Uninhibited and
without any real sexual awareness at that age, the fact
that her panties were fully displayed momentarily
caused her not a second's thought. She made not even
the least attempt to preserve a degree of modesty, such
that any teenager would most certainly have seen to.
That delightfully exposed triangle of light-blue cotton
undies, triggered something in my frontal lobes that
had lain dormant all these years. I was privy suddenly
to something other than my eight-year old daughter on
that swing, and even as I smiled my appreciation of her
new trapeze-like skills, my mind was riveted on areas
of Emma's anatomy that might best be termed
inappropriate!
When shortly after, she was wanting me to push her
again, I found myself gazing with unfettered delight at
that compact young bottom nestling there on the seat of
the swing. My hands encircled those firm little cheeks
as they had done so many times before, though now
incurring a delightfully new sense of tactility. I
ached to see her sans that tight little skirt.
Emma giggled as I pushed her yet higher, as innocent
and blissfully unaware of her father's decadent
thoughts as only a child can be.
I found myself studying her closely as we walked home.
The way those pretty blonde curls danced around her
shoulders, the softness of her tiny hand as it nestled
lovingly in mine. The girlish features as she would
look up at me with that expression of childlike trust
and affection. And what was my contribution that day?
Simply to glance at her top taking in the temporary
flatness of her chest and the image of those soon to be
swollen nipples within. Her very lack of development in
that area, I found to be of considerable arousal
itself. How might she react to being licked there even
at this stage I wondered? before chastising myself for
such wickedly left-field contemplations.
In the following weeks, although I did nothing overtly
inappropriate, I THOUGHT plenty. Mainly I suppose, how
I might get to see Emma's panties on a more regular
basis. As it happened, opportunity presented itself
within days.
Invited to a friend's birthday party, Susan had bought
Emma a couple of new dresses. I was just putting the
finishing touches to the pasta creation I had been
working on, when I was called upstairs.
"Emma's not sure which dress looks best honey," Susan
said, as I walked in. My nether regions stirred with
unprovoked interest as I stared at our beautiful
daughter, looking years older in that velvety flounced
outfit with pretty lace edging. Emma smiled at me and
muttered "What do you think daddy?"
If I had told her what I was thinking right then, Susan
would have been tossing up which to call first - her
attorney or 911.
I just sat down in the chair alongside her work-desk
and said "You look like an angel sweetheart."
"Can I show daddy the other dress?" she gabbled
excitedly to my wife who then to my total and
everlasting shock, helped her out of the velvety
creation, leaving her standing momentarily right there
before me, in simply a pair of skimpy little white
bear-print cotton undies. If I had been forced to stand
up for whatever reason - questions would most
definitely have been asked.
For the briefest moment, as Emma held her arms skywards
for her mother to slip the other dress over her head,
my retinas were subjected to the murderously hot aspect
of two tiny but noticeably puffy pre-teen nipples as
they adorned an otherwise flat but fully girlish little
chest.
Following adjustments to the hemline, sleeves and
shoulder straps - a vision of under-age temptation
stood before me awaiting the verdict. Well Nadia
Comeneci may have scored a perfect "10" all those years
ago, but in terms of judging poise, beauty and feminine
perfection - Emma would have consigned her to the
support team!
"That one honey" I said, "Trust me on this!"
All the way to the party and back, my mind was a
maelstrom of unholy images. My hands itched to smooth
their way up between her slim legs where so rich and
innocent a prize lay hidden beneath its cotton
guardian. My warped perspective allowed me the luxury
of imagining the feel of those tiny nipples as I
caressed them outside her dress as she urged me on to
even greater daring.
"You seem very distracted tonight," Susan's statement
dissolved the mirage instantly.
"Nah, just a thinking about work," I lied effortlessly.
I knew I had crossed the line and I didn't even care.
The first recorded "contact" as we may as well term it,
occurred a week or so later. The circumstances brought
to mind immediately, your story entitled "It Came Upon
a Midnight Clear."
Having said prayers with Emma she was about to pull up
the covers when she remembered something she had to put
in her backpack for school the next morning. She was
still fussing around at the foot of the bed, her
shapely little butt teasing the life out of me as she
tried forcing a couple more books into the flap when I
said "C'mon cheeky face, hurry up and get into bed." So
saying I gave her a playful little smack flush on her
bottom.
At that second she spun around and the look she tossed
me was both questioning and evocative in ways I
couldn't immediately describe. "That's naughty daddy,"
she laughed, but something in that cute expression took
her meaning to another level. "Was not she wanting me
to do that again?" I couldn't help thinking. Tucking
her in, I kissed her on the forehead and left the room.
An hour later, mid some quite passionate lovemaking,
Susan whispered "What's gotten into you tonight?" I
figured it was best I didn't tell her!
The evening then came, that I found myself nuzzling
Emma's neck as I kissed her goodnight. It was only for
a second or two but long enough for me to know that she
wanted it. The next night I kissed her a little longer
and the night after that I kissed her lips. I was on a
roller-coaster to somewhere and we hadn't even hit that
first big drop yet.
A few nights later, after prayers Emma turned onto her
tummy and looking at me with what I could only
translate as "expectation," whispered "Good night Daddy
- I so love you." She had never added those last four
words and it rocked me momentarily...they didn't come
across somehow as the innocent outpourings of a nine
year old (that she now was)
Right then my arm was around her waist and for some
reason I felt impelled to seek out more intimate
contact. I allowed my hand to rest up on her curvy
little bottom. Far from objecting to my borderline
indecency, the brief wriggling of her hips suggested
she liked the familiarity.
"I love you too darling," I whispered, kissing her
whilst smoothing my hand across her rear-end and fully
aware now that this was meeting with her complete
approval. I almost raped Susan to death that night.
It was only a matter of time. For several nights I had
been holding her firstly around the hips, then the
waist, then higher up. The night in question (and I had
resolved to make my play this night whatever the cost)
my hand first encroached upon her upper chest. I felt
her stiffen slightly but as my palm came to rest across
that vaguest of swellings I knew it had been worth it.
"Ohh Daddy," she whimpered, pulling me to her, those
sweet-tasting lips seeking out contact with my own. I
kissed her harder and longer than ever I had, all the
time smoothing my fingers across her PJ top, beneath
which those girlish nipples could just be felt. She
brought up her own small hand and laid it across my
own, eyes willing me to maintain the contact.
"We shouldn't be doing this sweetheart," I
involuntarily mumbled. "Please forgive me," I made as
if to leave.
"Don't go daddy," she pleaded...."I won't tell anyone,
I promise....I just love you doing that...it feels
really nice."
She wasn't far wrong!
"Can I just slip my hands underneath?" I whispered,
never for a second expecting her acquiescence. At the
point she nodded and looked up at me with those pretty
eyes inviting further carnality I just slipped a hand
up beneath her top and discovered a tiny island of
uncharted land-mass - two actually. Manipulating that
indescribably pleasurable teat between thumb and
forefinger, I watched as Emma first gasped with
surprise then began wriggling with unhinged delight,
her eyes betraying the pleasure her nine-year old body
was experiencing.
As for me... what lay now between my own legs was a
penile ramrod of hitherto unexperienced solidarity.
"You are just so beautiful Emma," I muttered goofily,
not entirely sure how long I could hang on to my sanity
here. Rather then engage in further pointless epithets
I lowered my face and began kissing her lips
passionately... all the time fondling, rubbing and
gently pulling on her nipples. Her lips it must be
admitted, met mine with an equal fervor.
"Can daddy see?" I murmured. My eyes directing her gaze
to the buttons of that top. "Uh huh," she responded,
arms now up over her head. She looked up at me
teasingly. Even as I undid that last button and drew
aside her top, I could feel her stiffen with
anticipation. The stiffening I myself was undergoing,
doesn't bear mention.
I suppose they were erect but all I could see was the
perfection of nature's handiwork. Prominent but tiny
nipples atop the merest hint of a mound either side of
her sternum trembled with her increasing respiratory
rate. Leaning forward slightly, I inclined my face to
her right nipple and kissed the softness there. Emma's
sudden intake of breath betrayed the young girl's
probable confusion. An instinctive understanding that
what her father was doing was wrong but an equally
natural response to the newly discovered pleasures his
lips were bestowing on so sensitive an area.
Unable to call a halt to proceedings as I knew I must,
I began to draw down on Emma's nipple and the sighs of
pleasure issuing from her palpably young lips filled me
with even greater desire. I sucked deeply as my hand
involuntarily worked its way to the elastic of her
pyjama pants.
It was the contact with this, her last line of defense,
that recalled some degree of parental responsibility.
Withdrawing both my hand and my lips I got to my feet,
drawing the two halves of her top together as I did so.
"What's wrong daddy?" she asked, "Have I done something
wrong?"
"Oh God Emma," I replied, "Of course not, I just think
its better if daddy goes to his own bed now
sweetheart... mommy is probably wondering why I've been
so long."
She looked up at me with that angelic smile of hers -
it melted my heart. "Can you kiss me like that again
tomorrow night?" she asked with such heart-wrenching
innocence I wondered how I was ever going to leave the
room.
"Yes darling of course I will," I told her. "It will be
our little secret - just something for you and I to
share forever cheeky-face." She was still staring up at
me lovingly, even as I reached the door.
This ritual was to be repeated the next couple of
months and despite my burgeoning need to slip a hand
down inside her panties, and seek the Holy Grail of
perverted desire, I managed to content myself with
suckling both her undeveloped breasts that she would
now freely expose to me nightly without even being
asked. On more than one occasion I would enter her room
to hear some crazed giggling, only to discover her
snuggled up under the sheets fully topless.
Running my hand the length and breadth of her pyjama-
clad bottom became part of our sex-play although that
last bastion of little-girl modesty - her PJ pants, had
yet to be lowered.
It was a few weeks later that Emma herself seized the
initiative during a particularly arousing nipple
sucking session. Pausing as always at that smooth
ribbon of exposed skin between her pants and top she
whispered quite without provocation "Do you want to put
your hands in my panties daddy?.....you can if you
like"
I almost bit her nipple in shock.
"Are you sure darling?" I asked tentatively. "Daddy
really would like to if its OK with you."
That heat-seeking smile drew me to her and slipping my
hand beneath the elastic of her PJ bottoms I was on my
way to Hell all right. Rather than enter the Holy of
Holies first up. I allowed myself the luxury of simply
smoothing over her panties right to the point they
curved down between her slim legs. Rubbing her softly
there, I heard the onset of a moan - not a fully
fledged adult groan - more a sigh of expectant
pleasure.
"Does that feel nice Emma?" I whispered. She simply
nodded.
I could feel now the outline of her tiny pussy and the
cleft of her wholly innocent little vaginal lips. As I
pushed in a fraction, I felt her wriggle her hips in
encouragement. That I definitely did not need!
Backing up the requisite few inches I slipped my hand
inside her panties. I was finally doing it... feeling-
up my nine-year old daughter. Thing is though it was
most definitely with her consent - not that the Courts
would have been taking that into account I realise.
As I cupped her pussy, Emma spread her legs, enough
that I could slip my index finger between her labia and
enter her tiny receptacle. "Tight" does not adequately
cover it. We're talking strictly a "No Entry" sign! It
was enough though and able to caress gently her
developing clitoral hood, I was in hog heaven as I
fingered my little girl's pussy stupid.
I don't think Emma came close to an orgasm... I wasn't
trying for such... but the sensations afforded her sexy
little body that night had her respiratory rate nudging
the red-line and her hips thrusting every which way. I
had in fact to leave her a short time later to go and
relieve myself in the bathroom. I only just made it!
"Our little secret" it may have been, but it wasn't
enough. Nirvana never is, is it?
Working from home simply aided and abetted our
clandestine get-togethers. Home from school at least an
hour and a half before Susan was back from her legal
firm, afforded me and Emma the time we needed to push
even further back the boundaries of social acceptance.
No sooner would she be home, than I would whisk her off
to her bedroom for all manner of indecent pleasures.
Having her pose topless on her bed while I suckled her
breasts - both of which, once she turned ten, were
noticeably rounding out nicely, was a standing request.
I could hardly fail to note either her introductory
cleavage which the purchase of her first training bra
highlighted to perfection.
Happy to walk around for me in just that skimpy little
bra and panties I would ask her to then sit on my knee
whilst I fondled her nipples and kissed her silly. She
never failed to gasp as I slipped a hand inside her
panties and proceeded to finger that needful little
slit while she wriggled her curvy little butt all over
my lap, thereby laying siege to my own unfulfilled
equipment. "Am I making you hard daddy?" she would
giggle as my agonies multiplied. So much for Sex-Ed!
It progressed to play-spanking her, stripping her
outright, laying her on the bed quite naked whilst I
licked her pussy until she was begging me not to stop.
It was only a matter of time naturally until she
experienced that first wondrous orgasm. I can still see
that expression of sheer ecstasy on her pretty face as
the shock-waves radiated outwards from her openly
abused but wholly contented pussy.
And Susan never suspected a thing, although twice we
lost track of time and I was still sucking those
arousing little breasts and fingering her stupid even
as my wife pulled in the driveway. Emma though, carried
it off without so much as a hair seemingly out of
place.
I lived for the following day and the school bus
pulling up just two doors down from our front gate. For
more than eighteen months now Emma and I have
transgressed most every social dictate there is. All
but one of course
To sicken you further, let me admit to the most damning
of eventualities. I am completely in love with her,
needing only now to consummate that incestuous reality.
As I said, she is now eleven...and as it happens, Susan
will be interstate all weekend!
Regards,
"Phoenix"
(c) Peter_Pan 2006
"The Complete Harper Valley"
www.lulu.com/content/106537
Visit also "The World of Peter_Pan"
http://www.geocities.com/worldofpeter_pan/intro.html
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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 44