                     Little Girls need it too.
                            By Frosty

M/f,  Pedo, A little humour,  Preg?

All rights reserved, etc.
Please do not read this if you are easily led, tend to try to 
turn fantasy into reality, or just plain dislike stories that 
contain, sex, underaged-sex, incest or any and all of that nasty 
stuff.

This story has no basis in reality; it is just the hard 
copy/electronic message, ramblings of a fervid imagination; put 
here for other people's enjoyment.

Praise and constructive criticism cheerfully accepted.  Flames go 
in the special round filing cabinet beside the desk.


To my regular readers (if there are any other than the two I 
communicate with now and then) this is not like the "Dawn" story 
(which will continue) but occurred to me while driving home one 
night.  So I wrote it.  It should be fairly short and the idea 
was planted while reading  "An  Erotic Story"  written by someone 
else.

[Gee, I wonder WHO that someone could be . . . Frank.   ;-}]


                     Little Girls need it too.
                            By Frosty

     I never intended any of this to happen; but this is how it 
started:

     Children can be strange animals, and I say animals in the 
nicest possible way, like . . . maybe a kitten or puppy dog.
     When our little girl was about two years old, and just 
getting out of the nappy stage, my wife and I noticed something a 
little odd about her.  Not a physical abnormality, or anything 
serious like that you understand, but just something unusual.
     Often my wife would strip Carly's training panties off (you 
know, those things like thick towels, but with rubber on the 
outside) and leave her lying on the floor watching the cartoons 
on TV.   While she lay there, she would rest her hands on her 
chin and wriggle her hips around; pressing her groin against the 
carpet.  How long she had been doing it neither of us knew; until 
we noticed it one Sunday when we had been gardening all morning 
and had slumped on the sofa to recover.
     There in front of us was this toddler grinding her crotch 
against the floor.
     "Maybe it's a touch of nappy rash," I told my wife; as she 
looked at me inquiringly.
      Paula went and picked up a tube of zinc-cream; and with the 
utmost care applied it to the right spot.  Carly wriggled even 
harder as my wife tenderly spread the thick white cream; leading 
us to believe that we had been right.
     As doting parents, we obviously kept an eye on things for a 
while, and carried out whatever treatment seemed appropriate; but 
it didn't seem to help.  Our little girl still wriggled around on 
the floor at every opportunity; and not only that but sometimes 
we would see her doing it in her bed.
     We would lay her on her back, tuck her in, and almost before 
we out of the room she was at it again; turning herself over and 
rubbing herself on the mattress.
     After a couple of weeks of this we started to get worried; 
wondering if maybe she had some sort of infection or something.    
We got an appointment with the pediatrician; and as I was 
working, my wife took her along and explained the problem.  It 
wasn't 'til that evening when I got home and we were eating our 
evening meal, that we finally got around to discussing what the 
problem was.
     "Well the doc told me what her problem is," Paula informed 
me.
     "Uh Huh," I muttered back through a mouthful of food.
     "Yeah.  It's not TOO much of a problem though; and it will 
probably go away on it's own."
     "Uh Huh," again through a mouthful of my dinner.  "What is 
it?" I asked; as another forkful of mashed potato was pushed 
between my lips.
     An amused grin spread across my wife's face.  "Apparently 
she's masturbating."
     One mouthful of semi-chewed mash sprayed across the table.



                                1


     "She's WHAT?" I coughed; grabbing a glass of water.  "Where 
the hell did she learn that?" I yelled accusingly.
     "She taught herself, Stupid," my wife shot back.  "She 
probably had an itch at some time; and found that it felt nice to 
rub herself on something.  At least that's what the doc said."
     I was dumbstruck.  I had never heard of such a thing before. 
"Are you sure?  I mean I don't think you're lying of course; but 
it does seem a little strange."
     "The doctor gave me this leaflet thing about it; and gave me 
the name of a book to check out.  I'm going to the bookshop to 
get it tomorrow," my wife informed me; shaking her head and 
smiling at my obvious discomfort at the whole thing.
     Well that was . . . five, going on six years ago now; and 
she was right.
     The book, by some doctor or other, explained that it was 
quite normal for a baby to gently masturbate themselves, right 
from about the age of six months; that we shouldn't encourage it 
but that we shouldn't chastise her either.  It was a normal 
activity, and we could cause her some reticence toward her body 
if we told her it was wrong or naughty.  So (like good parents) 
we did as we were told, and just ignored it completely (or tried 
to anyway).
     My wife read the book from cover to cover several times 
after that.  I just relied on what she told me; trusting her to 
give me all the relevant info.
     Well, Carly didn't grow out of it.  In fact, she seemed to 
like it so much she was in an almost constant state of arousal.  
We would see her wandering around the garden with one hand down 
the front of her knickers (Good job we've got a high fence.) 
rubbing furiously at herself.  Or we'd catch her sitting on her 
bed, playing with her dolls; then suddenly stop and rub the hard 
plastic dolly between her legs for a few moments before carrying 
on with the game.
     Once she was old enough to hold a conversation with 
properly, and before she went off to pre-school my wife sat her 
down and explained that it was all right to do it at home, or in 
private, but that she shouldn't do it in front of other people, 
especially strangers.   Carly nodded solemnly; agreeing with her 
mother; then skipped off happily to play.
     We kept a discreet eye on her for a while; and were pleased 
to see that she actually took notice of what she was told.  When 
we were out or had friends around, our daughter was the height of 
discretion, never touching herself once; but when they left or we 
returned home, it was as if a dam had broken.  The little four-
year-old would usually dash up to her room and several minutes 
later (if we were upstairs) we would hear a little whimper and 
then a sigh from her room.  Moments after that she would be 
downstairs playing quite happily again for an hour or two.  
Sometimes, if we had been out for more than a couple of hours, 
she wouldn't even get as far as her room and would just flop onto 
the sofa, spread her legs, shove her hand own the front of her 
panties and rub her knuckles back and forth against herself  
until she felt better.




                                2


     It was times like that, that it got hard to ignore what she 
was doing.  (Well imagine it yourself.  A little girl, hardly 
more than a toddler, rubbing and fingering the little hairless 
crack between her legs on your sofa, while you carry on like 
she's not there.  Tough to ignore, wouldn't you say?)
     Don't get me wrong here.  It didn't turn me on or anything.  
Christ, she was just a baby.
     But it WAS a distraction.  Seeing her little face screw up 
and go all red; then seeing her shudder like that . . . well I 
ask you . . . wouldn't YOU be distracted?
     By the time she had gotten to six-years-old, we found out 
that Carly had progressed further than just rubbing herself with 
her hands and stuff.
     My wife regularly started finding small bits of coloured 
paper in our daughter's bedroom; and in particular in her bed.  
When asked where all the paper was coming from, Carly showed my 
wife that she had torn the paper wrapping off her wax crayons.
     "Why did you do that?" Paula scolded Carly.
     "'Cos it hurts." was her reply.
     "What do you mean it hurts?" Paula had replied; a puzzled 
expression on her face.
     "When I put them in here," Carly had replied; nonchalantly 
pointing to her crotch.
     Sitting on the bed beside Carly and handing her one of the 
crayons, Paula had asked what she meant.
     Apparently Carly just lifted her skirt; pulled the cotton 
crotch of her panties to one side; and hunching her groin 
forward, she pushed the wax stick deep inside the little pink 
slit between her legs.
     My wife told me afterwards that she had just sat there 
speechless, while Carly slid the thing in and out of herself; 
grinning all the time she was doing it.  She could understand now 
why Carly had stripped the paper off.  It must have felt like 
sandpaper in that tender little passage.
     "I - I'm not sure that's a terribly good idea, sweetheart," 
Paula had tried to explain.  "It might  get stuck in there."
     "Naw.  It only goes in this far," Carly explained 
unconcernedly; pushing the wax stick in, until only the last 
half-inch of the four inch crayon remained exposed.
     "Well, just be careful and make sure it's clean before you 
put things in there.  You don't want to get an infection down 
there," was all my wife could think to say; stunned as she still 
was.
     "It's always clean," Carly piped up.  "I keep sucking it to 
make it slippery and that makes it clean."
     Paula just stood up and left her to it; shaking her head in 
disbelief as she went.
     We did try to talk her into stopping once; but she became so 
depressed after the first day, we just let her get on with it.  
Well, it WAS supposed to be harmless, according to the doctor who 
wrote the book that Paula had.






                                3


     Well that was a year or more ago and Carly, to our certain 
knowledge has carried on as normal . . . Huh, if you can call it 
normal.   My wife found the handle of our daughter's skipping-
rope under her bed the other day.  No rope attached; just the 
plastic handle.  I didn't even want to think about that.
     The thing that really changed things happened just two weeks 
ago.

     Paula had gone out with a couple of her girlfriends for a 
drink (as they did every Friday night) and left me to babysit.   
I had the TV turned down low; taken a shower and was browsing 
around some web sites on my trusty old PC in my dressing gown; 
when I heard the patter of not-so-tiny-anymore feet, going across 
the master-bedroom floor above me.
     "What is she up to now?" I asked myself.
      Carly had always seemed to need less sleep than any other 
kid I knew; and we would put her to bed at seven o'clock and let 
her get on with whatever she wanted, as long as she was in her 
room.  It was past nine now and she would usually have fallen 
asleep.  What she was doing in our room I didn't know; but I was 
sure going to find out.
     Silently creeping up the stairs, I was just in time to catch 
a glimpse of my, now eight-year-old daughter's nightdress, as she 
slipped back into her bedroom and closed the door.
     Ignoring her for a moment, I went into our room to see if I 
could see what she had been doing.  Well, apart from our normally 
closed wardrobe door being slightly open, there wasn't any sign 
that she had been in there at all.  So I tiptoed back along the 
landing, and listened at my daughter's bedroom door.  For a bit, 
I felt like a Peeping Tom.  There was silence for a few seconds 
then a little groan, then silence then a little whimper.
     Quietly I cracked open the door a fraction of an inch, so I 
could peer inside (hopefully without alerting my daughter to the 
fact that her father was spying on her).  If everything was OK, I 
didn't want Carly to think I was suspicious.
     The only light in the room came from a small bedside lamp 
with a low wattage bulb in it; really just to give a bit of 
security I guess.  My little daughter was lying back on the bed 
with her head propped against the headboard.  Nothing unusual in 
that you might think; but it was then that I noticed what she was 
doing.
     Sometime back, after a business trip abroad, I had brought 
back one of those shiny white vibrators.  You know: the ones they 
advertise as being a body massager?  Yeah . . . right!!
     Well after a few trials with it, and a few fun and games, my 
wife decided she preferred the real thing.  Rather than throw it 
out and have the embarrassment of the trash collector having it 
roll out the rubbish bag, at his feet, all buzzing and hopping 
about, it had been relegated to an old shoe-box, with a few dated 
hard-core porno mags, in the wardrobe.







                                4


     Yeah I know . . . stupid place to leave it, with a little 
girl who likes to dress in her mother's clothes and stuff around.  
But there you go; we aren't ALL perfect.  Any normal family 
wouldn't have had a problem.  THEIR kid wouldn't have looked 
twice at it, if they HAD found it.  Looking back, I guess we 
should have known better really.
     Anyway, Carly was slouched down, her knees spread wide, with 
this long white instrument buried deep inside her.  I stood there 
dumbstruck.  How could a slim little thing like our eight-year-
old little girl get something that thick and long so far up 
inside herself?  I wouldn't have believed it had I not seen it 
with my own eyes.
     Gripping the thing with both hands, she was plunging it in 
and out of herself at breakneck speed; stopping every so often to 
stick it in her mouth to make it slippery, before pushing it back 
inside herself.
     Well, I'm afraid that I defy almost anybody not to find 
something like that a turn-on.  I just couldn't help myself.   
The sight of my little girl, legs spread wide, her little pink 
pussy lips, all hairless and plump, splayed widely around that 
thick white shaft was too much for me.
     Quietly, so as not to frighten her, I closed the door again 
and knocked on it gently; giving my daughter time to cover 
herself or whatever, before opening the door and stepping into 
the room.
     "Hi Daddy," Carly smiled up at me; her legs still spread 
wide, and the vibrator unashamedly still pressed deep inside her 
body; making no attempt at all to cover herself.
      "What 'yer doing, Pumpkin?" I asked in a cracked voice, as 
I sat on the side of the bed beside her; my eyes inextricably 
drawn to the stretched crease of my daughter's bald cunny.
      "Just playing Daddy," Carly replied innocently, as she 
started sliding the thing slowly in and out again; only this time 
not two feet from her father's face.
     Carly noticed my rapidly hardening erection emerging from 
the gap in my dressing gown before I did.
     "Wow Daddy," She cried; reaching out and wrapping her little 
fingers around it, before I even had a chance to stop her, "you 
got one of those big things, like in those books in your 
bedroom."
     I'm sorry; but I was lost.
     "Um . . . er . . .yeah," was all I could say for a few 
moments, as my little girl gripped my throbbing erection; tugging 
it this way and that as she examined it.
     "It's all warm and spongy, Daddy.  Is this the thing that 
goes in a lady down there?" she asked; pointing to the length of 
white plastic wedged in her belly.
     "Well . . . Um . . . yeah.  I guess so Pumpkin," I stuttered 
weakly; but flattered that my little girl would associate my 
seven-inch dick with the horse-hung guys in the magazines.
     "Can I try it Daddy?" Carly asked; and before I had a chance 
to reply, my daughter had extracted the vibrator from inside her 
cunny, and was clambering off the bed.




                                5


     Up until the moment I opened her bedroom door, I can 
honestly say I had never had any lustful thoughts about my 
daughter.  As I said, seeing her rubbing herself and stuff had 
over the years become part of normal daily life around our house.
     Things had changed now.
     I've also got to say here and now, that I didn't even try to 
fight my daughter off.

     Carly dropped to the floor and stood between my knees; her 
big blue eyes shining excitedly, before pulling my dressing gown 
out the way and, just as I had seen her do with the Vibrator, 
leaning forward and taking the end of my cock in her mouth to 
cover it with spit.
     I thought my nuts were going to explode there and then.  
Watching my sweet little girl open her mouth wide and suck my 
cock as deep into her mouth as she could get it, was almost more 
than I could take.  Fortunately for me and her, she only did it 
long enough to ensure it was thoroughly wet and shiny, before 
raising her arms and signaling for me to lift her up and set her 
on my lap.
     I did just that.  As I lifted her up, the little minx opened 
her legs wide, outside mine, and watched as I positioned her over 
the up-thrust column of my cock.  Gently I lowered her until I 
felt the head of my cock touch the soft warm lips of her little 
cuntlet.
     "Are you sure about this Pumpkin?" I asked; thoroughly 
excited at the thought of being buried in that tight little 
tunnel, but still with enough sense to be concerned about my 
little girl.
     "Pleeeeeeeaase Daddy," was all she said, before groaning 
sweetly as I lowered her onto my cock.  Well, who can resist that 
pleading tone children manage to put in their voices when they 
want something?
     Slowly I let my daughter sink down on me; the sensations 
running through my overexcited cock unlike anything I have felt 
before.  Eventually, with my arm aching from supporting her 
weight as I oh-so-slowly slid her down my length, her knees made 
contact with the bed, and she was able to support her own weight.
     Gasping for air, I let myself flop back across the bed; my 
head propped against the wall; and looked down my body.   The 
cute little eight-year-old knelt astride me; her hairless little 
cunny firmly impaled on about six of my seven inches, and a big 
cheesy grin of achievement on her pretty face.
     "It's much better than that old thing," Carly told me, 
nodding toward the again-redundant length of plastic laying 
discarded on the bed.
     "Oh, thanks for the vote!"  I grinned back; rolling my eyes 
at the look of incomprehension on her face; but ignoring it.
     Carly took the next step all on her own.  With a look of 
concentration on her face, she lifted, then lowered herself 
slightly.
     "Mnnnn that's nice.  It's all warm and bulgy," Carly 
whimpered, as she started a rhythm of up and down motions; her 
little legs only allowing her to lift herself about halfway up 
the length of my cock, before she dropped herself down again.


                                6


     I tried to imagine what was going on inside that narrow, 
immature little channel inside her, but I couldn't sustain it.  
The thought of the moist pink passage stretching and sliding 
along my cock threatened to push me over the edge before she was 
ready; so I started thinking of other things to calm me down. 
Things like counting the corners in the room, and washing the 
car, etc.  I was quickly brought back to reality by the complaint 
from my little girl that her legs were starting to ache where she 
was lifting herself.
     It was no good though.  I had gotten the need and the need 
needed to be satisfied.  Reaching under her cute bare little bum, 
I gripped the pert cheeks and stood up, supporting her on my 
hands.
     Carly giggled sweetly as I slowly stood up; her little body 
deeply impaled on my cock; then turned and laid her on the bed 
without slipping from inside her.  (No easy task, when she's so 
much smaller than me.)  I knelt beside the bed with my daughter's 
cute little backside right at the edge, and started doing the 
work for her.
     "Oohhhh Daddy, that's better," Carly squealed; putting her 
hands behind her head and watching as I slid in and out of her.  
"Will that stuff come out of your thing like in those books?"
     "I - I 'spect so," I grunted in reply; amazed that my little 
eight-year-old had taken so much notice of those magazines.
     Slipping my hands under her knees, I lifted her legs and 
planted her feet on the edge of the bed; then pressed her knees 
outward until they almost touched the quilt; the elasticity of a 
child's joints never failing to amaze me.  Carly continued to 
grin up at me as I thrust in and out of her; her position 
allowing me to push into her until my balls were pressed tightly 
into the crease of her buttocks.
     After several more deep thrusts I quickly pulled out; 
watching the tiny opening between her legs snap shut then leaned 
over the bed.  "Suck it Pumpkin.  Make it all wet for Daddy."  
(It didn't really need it as she was sopping wet from her own 
juices; but the thought of my little eight-year-old sucking her 
own flavourings off me, as those pouting lips closed around my 
cock was so exciting I couldn't resist it.)
     Without hesitation Carly did as I asked.  Lifting herself on 
her elbows, she opening her mouth wide, then wrapped those pretty 
pink lips around me; bobbing her head back and forth as she laved 
her tongue around the swollen head.
     "There," was all she said, as she decided it was wet enough 
and pulled her mouth off it.
     Slipping back down the bed, I again knelt in front of her. 
Sliding my hands up the insides of her thighs, I pressed my 
thumbs between the reddened lips of her little crease and split 
her open to reveal the deeper pink interior; then pushed my cock-
head into the tiny elastic opening I had exposed.
     Carly whimpered with pleasure and arched her back; urging me 
inward until my full seven inches were again buried deep in her 
little tummy.





                                7


     "Daddy's going to squirt that white-stuff inside you," I 
croaked; barely able to keep from doing just that; as the very 
thought and feel of my little girl's cunny sliding tightly over 
my swollen member until the head poked against the hard lump of 
her cervix was so intense I almost let my daughter have every 
drop of sperm I had in me, right then.  "Would you like that?" I 
asked.
     Carly just nodded; looking interestedly down between her 
legs at the thick fatherly cylinder sliding in and out of her 
tightly stretched little slit.  Each time I hit bottom inside 
her, my daughter squirmed a little; trying to seat my engorged 
prick as far up inside her tight little tummy as it would go.  
Obviously, the thought of her own father filling her cute little 
tummy with cum didn't bother the little girl at all.
     Slowly I built up speed again; thrusting firmly into the 
mushy depths of her clasping passage.  Dropping one hand between 
her legs, I pressed my thumb against the exposed nub of her baby 
clitty; rubbing at it roughly as I had seen her do.  The other 
hand went up her body and my fingertips stroked the tiny pink 
nipples on her flat chest.
     "That's even better Daddy," Carly yelped; tilting her head 
back and closing her eyes tightly, so she could concentrate on 
the feel of my prick sliding in and out of her body, like no 
plastic dildo or jumprope-handle could ever do.
     "Good, Babygirl," I muttered, as I watched, mesmerized by 
the sight of  the shaft of my cock emerging then disappearing 
between the soft baby-fat lips of her immature young vagina.  The 
feeling of the tight little hole squeezing on it as it entered, 
and clinging to it as it withdrew, was indescribably good.  I 
could tell my daughter was enjoying it almost as much as I was, 
if not more.
     Carly began to gasp and groan; the narrow passage that 
massaged my cock flexing and clamping down on me as her orgasm 
built inside her.  "I - I'm getting that nice feeling, Daddy," 
she grunted; her hips flailing around in front of me.
     From the slow gently in and out motion I had been making, I 
started moving faster; one hand pressing down on her soft warm 
tummy, while the other continued teasing her hard little clitty.
     With a loud gasp, the child's body went rigid; her face 
flushed and her mouth open wide, as the intense sensations rushed 
through her tiny frame.  "Daddeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" she squealed 
loudly, as her hips jerked up; forcing me inside her still 
deeper; her hands grabbing for her crotch and squeezing herself 
hard.  This lasted for several minutes before she slumped limply 
across the bed, panting to catch her breath.
     I was right behind her with my own powerful orgasm.  
Gripping her narrow boyish hips I held her tightly as I pumped 
into her; my swollen cock traveling the full length of her narrow 
slippery channel to bump against the mouth of my daughter's 
immature young womb.







                                8


     "Uhng - Ungh - Ungg," she grunted before me, in time to my 
inward thrusts; my mind heedless to what she was now feeling; as 
my whole being concentrated on the task of getting my prick to 
deposit my seed in the child's body.  All thoughts of it being 
right or wrong to ejaculate my sperm in my little 8-year-old  
daughter were washed away by the incredible NEED to squirt inside 
her.  Not that Carly was complaining . . . far from it, in fact.
     As the tingling in my balls reached its peak, I pushed my 
prick deep inside my daughter's body; the narrow opening that led 
inside the little 8-year-old gripping the base of my cock like an 
overtight elastic band.
     "Daddy's getting that nice feeling now," I grunted; as I 
doubled up over her, and the first heated white string of my 
sperm spurted wetly into my daughter's developing womb.  The 
feeling of that first thick surge of cum rippling through my 
bulging penis and into the child's belly, was indescribably good.
     Carly lay passively under me while I jerked inside her 
squeezing little cunny; spraying my seed into the little girl's 
warm spongy depths.  Over and over I spat my sperm into the tight 
little receptacle; flooding my daughter's cervix with gobs of hot 
fluid, until my balls were totally drained.  With my head bent 
forward against her chest, I too panted for breath; my heart 
beating fit to explode.
     "That was nice Daddy," Carly finally said.  "Much better 
than that plastic thing and my skipping rope.  Can we do it 
again?"
     With an exasperated laugh I slowly slid my rapidly softening 
penis from my little girl's still clasping hole, and sat back on 
my heels; watching as a greyish trickle of my sperm slowly leaked 
from the tiny pink opening between her legs, and ran down the 
crack of her bum.
     Carly looked down at the white drop oozing from the tip of 
my prick; connected by an obscene string to the matching dribble 
oozing from her slowly closing cunny.  "Thanks, Daddy," she said; 
touching a finger to the white drop, before licking it off.  "For 
a while there, I thought you were going to pull out, and squirt 
that white stuff all over me, like the guys in the pictures do, 
and get me all messy.  This is much nicer."  Carly wrapped her 
little hand around my wilting prick, as if she thought that by 
holding and squeezing it, she could make it hard again.  (Not 
exactly an impossible thing, at that.)  "Can we do it again, 
Daddy?" she repeated, hopefully.
     "Another day, Sweet Pumpkin," I told her; knowing that there 
was no way I was going to be able to perform again tonight; and 
hoping for the first time ever, that my wife wouldn't be "in the 
mood" when she came home.
     "I Think you'd better have a quick shower, and get off to 
sleep before your mother comes home," I told my daughter.  "And 
you'd better not tell Mummy that you played with Daddy's special 
toy; because Mummies think it's only for them, and she might be 
upset if she knows you played with it as well."
     "OK Daddy," Carly replied, as if it were the most natural 
thing in the world; and scooted off the bed.




                                9


     I nearly had second thoughts about being able to get it up 
again that night, when I saw the thin rivulet of sperm running 
down the inside of her thigh, as my little girl walked toward the 
bedroom door.
     "Yuck.  Your stuff is all sticky," was all she said over her 
shoulder, as she opened the bathroom door, then closed it behind 
her.
     Unfortunately, you know it didn't end there.

     Carly has been like a bitch in heat since then; wanting 
desperately to get me inside her again.
     Two nights ago she came down to give her mother and me a 
goodnight kiss, as usual; and asked if someone would come up and 
read her a story.
     "Ask your father," Paula told her.  "He's only watching the 
box."
     "Daddeeeee, will you read me a story?" she asked; turning to 
me as I vegged on the sofa.
     "Come on then Pumpkin," I replied; dragging myself to my 
feet and clasping her little hand as we climbed the stairs.
     Once safely in her room I realized what she was up to, the 
devious little minx.
     With all her not inconsiderable strength, she pushed me 
toward the bed until I sat down on it.  Carly then grabbed my 
feet, and lifting them off the floor swung me round until I 
sitting with my back against the headboard.  Once in the position 
she wanted me, she climbed on the bed and stood straddling my 
thighs, then lifting her long cotton nightie and showing me she 
was naked beneath it, plonked herself down on my lap, grinding 
the plump little pouch of her cunny against my cock, covered only 
by my thin jogging bottoms.
     "Daddy?" She asked, fiddling with the buttons on the front 
of her nightie.
     "What, sweetheart?" I asked; knowing exactly what was coming 
next, but wanting to hear her ask for it.
     "Will you put your thing in me again?"
     And that was it.  Within moments she had extracted my now 
hard dick from the waist of my joggers, sucked it until it was 
dripping with her saliva, then sat herself down on it hard.  
Slowly she bounced up and down on it; my hands molding the soft 
round cheeks of her rear, as my little girl impaled herself on 
seven inches of steel-hard fatherly cock.
     The creak of the stairs warned Carly that her mother was 
approaching before I even heard it.  She quickly sat down hard on 
me; impaling herself to the limit on my prick; while grabbing a 
book and thrusting it in front of my face.  "Quick," she 
whispered, "Mummy's coming."
     "Me too," I nearly replied; until I realized what she meant.
     When Paula stuck her head round the side of the door, she 
smiled at the heartwarming sight of her little girl sitting on 
her daddy's lap; listening intently to the story her father was 
stutteringly reading to her.





                                10


     Even through the fright of nearly getting caught, the 
exquisite feel of my little 8-year-old's tight little cunny-lips 
squeezing the base of my dick, her cervix bumping against the 
head, while her needing little tunnel milked on its swollen 
length, almost had me spouting thick white cum in my daughter's 
womb while her mother looked on.  Almost.
     As the bathroom door closed, and her mother turned on the 
shower, Carly giggled sweetly.  "That was close Daddy.  Mummy 
nearly caught me playing with your thing, didn't she?"
     I closed my eyes and groaned at my daughter's 
understatement; while she returned to bouncing happily on my 
cock.  I think the idea that she was being secretly naughty, 
playing with the thing only mummies were supposed to play with, 
appealed to the child.
     It was only when Carly and I gasped our way through our 
orgasms and I had pumped what felt like a bucketful of  
incestuous seed into the child's tender little womb, that we 
realized her mother was in the bathroom and that Carly wouldn't 
be able mop herself up afterwards.
     "Don't worry," I said; taking a fresh paper hanky from my 
pocket and pressing it into the now-satiated crease between my 
daughter's legs.  "This will stop it from making a mess on the 
bed; but make sure you wash properly in the morning."  Then I 
kissed her softly on the forehead before tucking her down in bed.
     "It's OK Daddy," she replied softly, "I don't mind.  It 
feels NICE inside me like that . . . I don't feel so itchy inside 
afterwards, like when I do it with my jumprope."
     Shaking my head, I covered the little girl up, gave her a 
big kiss, and headed back downstairs; wondering what I had gotten 
myself (or more correctly my prick) into (other than my own 
daughter's tight little cunny, that is).  Thinking about it now, 
maybe I was better off not knowing.
     I was back in front of the box watching football, by the 
time Paula came out of the shower, and she told me that Carly was 
sound asleep at a reasonable time for once, and with a big smile 
on her face.  Surprisingly, even after filling my daughter's 
cunny with all that sperm, I was horny enough to give Paula a 
ride in bed like she hadn't had in months.  Having already spent 
myself once in my daughter's belly, I wasn't so horny I needed to 
cum immediately; while the thought of my little girl sleeping in 
the other room with my thick white cum oozing in her tight little 
slit all night long, (after that incredible scene where our 
daughter had been sitting on my prick right in front of her 
mother, and my prick dribbling precum and sperm in her cute 
little tummy, without Paula knowing) kept me hard through orgasm 
after orgasm of my still sexy wife.
     Paula never DID find out what made me able to perform so 
well that night.  At the time, I shuddered to think what would 
happen if she ever did find out; even though the very thought of 
my wife watching as I sprayed her little girl's womb full of 
incestuous seed was quite a turn-on itself . . . even if it WAS 
incredibly scary at the same time.





                                11


     The very idea of Paula catching me fucking Carly was 
thrillingly exciting; even though I knew my wife would probably 
kill me if she ever found out I was molesting our daughter.  
Heck, I figured Paula would probably kill me with a dull butcher-
knife if she found out I had even TOUCHED Carly in a sexual 
manner; let alone finding out that I was having full unprotected 
vaginal intercourse with her little girl.  And that STILL wasn't 
the worst part.

     Here I am lying in bed on a Friday night, wide awake and my 
mind a turmoil of thoughts while my wife, bless her, lies 
snuggled up against my arm; sound asleep with her soft deep 
breathing tickling the hairs on my neck.

     It had started off like any other Friday night; my wife 
dashing about; getting dinner ready; tripping over the cat; and 
talking on the phone to her mother; while at the same time trying 
to put on her makeup so that she's ready when her mates call.
     I was doing the normal male thing . . . sitting watching the 
TV with a beer, and my daughter sitting beside me.
     I (I guess I should say We . . . that's my daughter and I) 
had been looking forward to my wife's night out for the last 
couple of days.  Carly had even asked me, "Could we play our game 
when Mummy's gone?" last night.  I had of course reluctantly 
agreed . . . OK yeah; I'm a liar, and there was absolutely no 
reluctance on my part at all now.
     In fact, it seemed that our father-daughter sessions were 
actually helping things; although thankfully my wife had no idea 
of the reasons.  Our little girl was not playing with herself so 
much now; or so my wife had happily informed me yesterday.  That 
our little girl would be using her own father's penis to satisfy 
her horny urges with, never seemed to occur to my wife (thank 
Goodness).
     Anyway, the expected sound of a car pulling into the drive 
and a horn blaring signaled the arrival of Paula's friends and 
Paula eventually went out.
     Almost before the door was closed, Carly had slid her hand 
down over my tummy, under the waist of my joggers, and wrapped 
her fingers around my cock.
     "Whoa there!  Wait until the car's out the drive," I scolded 
her; the fear of my wife suddenly coming back making me nervous.
     "She won't come back; she never does." Carly threw back; 
using her other hand to drag the front of my trousers down and 
pull my rapidly hardening dick out.  Leaning over and dropping 
her head as she sat beside me, Carly engulfed the swelling mauve 
dome with her mouth and proceeded to suck me to full hardness.  
Within moments she was madly scrabbling around under her short 
dress; trying to pull her panties off without releasing the hold 
her lips had on me.
     Reaching over, I used one hand to assist her; the other 
gripping the shaft of my cock and sliding up and down it in time 
with my daughter's mouth.  Quickly we pulled her little white 
panties down until they were 'round her ankles.  Then I slipped 
my hand between her legs; cupping it over the entire area of her 
perfect pink cuntlet.


                                12


     Carly was all for climbing on my lap and stuffing me inside 
her as quickly as possible; but with a little persuasion I 
managed to talk her into just sucking me while I fingered her hot 
slippery little crease for a while.   Gently I massaged the 
pouting little crack; rubbing the lips together then spreading 
them and stroking the tiny erect bud of her clitty; each time 
bringing her close to her orgasm before letting it slip away 
again.
     I loved teasing my little girl like this.  Each time she 
approached her peak, she would suck harder on me; her little 
blonde head bobbing up and down faster and obscene slurping 
noises coming from her mouth as she sucked her daddy's cock.
     Unable to take too much more, I slid my hands under her 
arms, and lifting her up, stood her astride me on the sofa; then 
dropped my hands down and under her skirt.  Slowly I rubbed my 
hands along the back of her thighs; feeling the muscles ripple 
where it tickled her; then cupped my hands over the pert out-
thrust ball of her bottom; gently squeezing it with my fingers 
and palms.
     "Lift your skirt, Pumpkin," I told her; watching as she 
immediately complied; slowly exposing the deeply split V nestling 
between her thighs.  Leaning forward, I pressed a little kiss 
against the soft warm flesh above the start of her slit; then 
poking out my tongue, I slid it into the moist crease.
     My daughter's hands clamped at the back of my head, and she 
pulled my face hard against her groin.  "Oowwwww Daddy," I heard 
her squeal loudly, as the tip of my tongue found her tiny bud and 
slid across it.  "THAT'S Nice," she mewled.
     I spent the next couple of minutes lapping along my 
daughter's vagina; teasing her and dipping my tongue into the 
amazingly elastic opening to her womb before breaking her grip 
and pulling my face free.  "Let's put it in now," I instructed 
her.
     Bending her knees, Carly dropped into a squatting position 
and reached underneath herself; gripping my almost bursting 
erection and positioning it at her entrance.
     Once satisfied she had located it correctly and I had a good 
grip on her rear to stop her dropping herself onto it as she had 
done before, I let her take me inside herself; my mouth open and 
my eyes closed as the sensations of a tight eight-year-old vagina 
squeezing on my swollen peter engulfed me.
     We were both too excited for it to last for long; and the 
avid sucking of that little cunt on my throbbing cock soon 
brought on the desired effect.  With only about twelve deep 
thrusts, and a lot of huffing and puffing we both, for the first 
time, came together; with my daughter's tiny abused little 
channel clamping down on her daddy's sperm-spewing penis at the 
same time.  Carly ground herself down on me; her full weight 
forcing me deeper than I thought possible; as I, holding her 
narrow hips held her down on it; my hips bucking upward as each 
new gout of living incestuous seed was unloaded inside her.  It 
seemed to go on for ever.  As each racking spasm passed through 
my body, another rushed up behind it; my sperm laden balls 
pumping a fresh powerful stream of hot white incestuous fluid 
deep into my precocious daughter's developing young womb.


                                13


     When the spasms finally subsided we just sat there together; 
Carly with her head pressed against the front of my shirt; me 
with my face buried in my daughter's fresh, little-girl-smelling 
hair; while we got our breath back and the last thin trickles of 
cum dribbled out of my prick and into the child's body where it 
belonged.
     Eventually Carly looked up; and smiling her big cheesy grin, 
broke the silence.  "That was the best Daddy," she giggled, while 
trying to raise herself from my lap.
     Grabbing her hips, I held the little girl down on me; not 
wanting to break the intimate incestuous connection we had.
     "Sit still Pumpkin," I told her.  "Just sit there for a 
while."
     Happily Carly did . . . well for a while anyway.
     "Can I turn round Daddy?  I can't see the telly," Carly 
asked, after about a minute and a half.
     Telling her to lift her knees, I gripped under her arms and 
lifted her slightly, managing to keep my semi-hard cock still 
inside her; and swiveling her on it, then set her down again.  
Carly giggled at this; wriggling herself down on my penis again; 
then leaned back and concentrated on the TV.
     I, for my part, slipped both hands round in front of her, 
and tucking the hem of her skirt into the waistband, amused 
myself by softly rubbing her tummy with one hand while stroking 
the swollen, hairless lips of her immature little cuntlet with 
the other.  It's a strange sensation sitting with a little eight-
year-old on your lap, your penis wedged deep inside the leaking 
little hole you've just fucked; keeping the thick white sperm 
you've just ejaculated inside her, bottled up in the child's 
squeezing young vagina.  Strangely satisfying, I would suggest.
     Well one thing led to another; and about an hour later 
Carly's wriggling and rapid breathing, coupled with the irregular 
squeezing of her tight little tunnel on my prick, signaled that 
the attention I had been playing to the slippery little slit 
between her legs, had gotten her hot again; not to mention that 
she now had a bellyful of again-hard cock.  I say bellyful, 
because I'm sure that I could trace the outline of myself deep 
inside her as I stroked her tummy.
     What's that you say?  Vivid imagination?
     I don't know; but you could sure see her little flat belly 
swell as I moved in and out of her.
     We were in a bit of an awkward position the way we were 
sitting; Carly with her legs stretched out in front of her and me 
sitting back on the sofa, made it a little difficult for either 
of us to move very much.  Shuffling forward and spreading my 
knees, I managed to let Carly's feet down onto the ground and 
with my backside perched on the edge of the seat; and with Carly 
bending and straightening her legs she was able to move herself 
up and down on me.  The height between her little bum and my 
groin was just right to allow a full stroke; but the fact that 
she stood inside my thighs didn't allow her to spread her legs 
very much.





                                14


     The point of this, is the fact that it made her already 
tight little channel almost painfully tight; and as I leaned back 
to watch my cock slewing in and out of her, I could see the plump 
hairless lips of her vagina almost oozing out from between her 
thighs.
     It was so obscene, and yet such a turn-on, that I had to 
reach out and grab the little girl; holding her still for a few 
moments to stop from spewing thick white cum inside my daughter's 
needing little tunnel right then.   When I recovered, I let Carly 
carry on; raising and lowering herself until she complained that 
her legs were aching.
     Reaching forward, I wrapped my arms around my daughter's 
waist and lifting her, turned her until she was able to kneel on 
the sofa cushion.  Then I proceeded to shaft my little 
eight-year-old from behind.  Playful as always, Carly gripped the 
back of the sofa and informed my brightly that she had seen two 
dogs do it like this when she had been at school one day.  All 
the time she was talking, she was ramming herself back at me; 
taking her father's swollen prick all the way up inside her cute 
little belly, until it bounced off her cervix.
     Kids these days?  I ask you.
     I leisurely pushed in and out of my little girl for several 
minutes; watching the overstretched opening between her legs suck 
me deep inside; the widely spread lips of her baby cunt pressing 
against my groin as I bottomed out inside her, then pulled out of 
her, much to her vocal disappointment; and then watched in 
amazement that the tiny little hole between my daughter's legs, 
that had been so rudely stretched by having her father's prick 
buried inside it, could still contract until it closed.
     Stepping 'round behind the sofa, I presented my cock to my 
daughter.  "Suck it for Daddy, Pumpkin," I said.  "Make it all 
wet again for him."
     Without hesitation Carly did as I asked; parting those 
pretty pink lips and pushing her head forward until I slipped 
deep in her mouth.   Resting my hands on the back of her head I 
urged her up and down its length; fucking her pretty face and 
feeling her little tongue darting back and forth along it.  The 
sight of my little girl sucking me was something else and I 
dearly wished I had a camera handy to record it.
     Wrenching myself reluctantly from her mouth, I again 
approached my daughter from behind; and after a couple of seconds 
spent trying to hold her wriggling little bottom still long 
enough to enter her; thrust myself deep inside her body, and was 
rewarded by a gratifying groan from the child.
     "It - It's so nice Daddy," Carly whimpered; hunching herself 
back against me.  "It's not fair that mummies should be the only 
ones who are supposed to play with it.  I wish I could have it 
all the time," she complained.
     Silently I was beginning to agree with her, as she was far 
more sexually adventurous than my wife; and certainly willing 
more often.






                                15


     We fucked like this for about twenty minutes; my earlier 
orgasm allowing me to hold back even from the assault of a horny 
eight-year-old; but eventually it had to end.  My daughter is one 
of the few females that can orgasm just from being fucked (not 
that I've been with that many; but most seem to need manual 
manipulation).
     [Maybe you're just not a very good fuck?  Ed :)]
     Not Carly.  Within moments of having something inside her, 
her little body starts a series of little tremors, tiny orgasms 
that seem to build into one big one at the end; and at that 
moment she was approaching the big one.
     Holding her hips I started working in and out of her harder 
and deeper; watching as those hairless pink baby-fat lips seemed 
to turn inward under the assault, until I felt the familiar 
contractions inside her.
     "It's happening Daddy," Carly whimpered, as if to confirm my 
suspicions; and started throwing herself back at me almost 
violently.  "It's going to happen Daddy," she repeated; making 
sure I knew.
     "I know honey.  Let it happen.  Cum on Daddy's cock Baby 
Girl," I encouraged her, as she ground herself back at me; 
forcing my cock head against the spongy bump of her cervix until 
it must have surely hurt her.  But Carly didn't complain; just 
groaned deeper in her chest, until with a final hard push back at 
me, her little stuffed body shuddered delightfully as she 
orgasmed; her back dipping and her mouth opening in a silent 
scream of pleasure.
     The sudden tightening of her narrow passage around my cock 
was the last thing needed to start my own mind-numbing cum; and 
holding her hips tightly against me, I felt the first powerful 
jet of spunk erupt inside her; my cock-head pressed hard against 
the entrance to my daughter's womb.  Her little blonde head 
snapped back as I spurted inside her.
     "I can feel it Daddy.  I can feel your stuff squirting 
inside me," she squealed; pressing back still harder into my lap.
     I must have been emptying my balls directly into her cervix 
I surmised; excited by the thought of depositing my seed that far 
up inside my little girl's body.  After several more strong 
outpourings into my daughter, I finally held myself inside her as 
the last thick *spurt* of cum spat wetly into my little girl's 
uterus, and I could almost feel the tiny opening to her womb 
nursing on the head of my prick for each precious drop of cum; 
her tiny abused little cunt by now awash with her own daddy's 
wriggling little tadpoles.  "Thank God she's too young to have 
kids," I thought, "or she'd be knocked up for sure, with the 
amount she's had inside her tonight."
      Wrapping my arms around my daughter again, I pulled her 
limp body against me and sat down again; my little girl's body 
sitting on my lap with my penis still buried inside her.
     Carly lay her head back against my shoulder and relaxed; 
just as I was resting my head against the back of the sofa and 
recovering from two powerful orgasms in the space of a couple of 
hours.
     And that's where we were several hours later, when we woke 
up.


                                16


     I hadn't realized that we had both fallen asleep; but as I 
opened my eyes and tried to focus them, the first thing I saw was 
the top of my wife's head as she peered between our daughter's 
thighs.
     She was shaking her head and muttering to herself, "I knew 
it . . . it's my own fault.  I should have warned him."
     "Wh - What's????"  I just didn't know what to say . . . well 
what DO you say when your  wife comes home and finds you sitting 
on the sofa, with your eight-year-old daughter sitting on your 
lap, naked from the waist down, with her father's cock still 
wedged deep inside her body, and rivulets of sperm running down 
between the cheeks of the child's bum, and making a puddle on 
your balls?
     Looking up, Paula realized I had woken, and signaled for me 
to remain quiet; then untucking our daughter's skirt, dropped it 
down over her naked, sticky charms.  Reaching forward, my wife 
gently shook Carly's shoulder until she too woke up.
     "Time for bed, Sweetheart," Paula said softly.  "It's very 
late, and you've got dance lessons in the morning."
     "Uh . . . OK, Mummy," Carly muttered sleepily and slid to 
the floor and headed for the stairs; walking a little wide-legged 
as a trail of my sperm slid slowly down the inside of her leg to 
her knee.  The catching sensation of her little slit pulling off 
my prick was exquisite, but I was too worried to appreciate it.
      "I'M DEAD," I thought to myself; imagining the blue 
flashing light (probably from the ambulance rather than from the 
police).  I quickly ran through all the excuses I could think of; 
(which didn't take long; as there weren't any) then just slumped 
back in the couch and waited for the explosion.
     "I need to talk to you; and put that away," was all Paula 
said, before calling up the stairs to our Daughter, "Get 
undressed and go in the bathroom Carly!"
     Paula dropped her bag on the chair and shucked off her coat; 
then headed up the stairs after our little girl.  It was the 
longest fifteen minutes of my life sitting there waiting to be 
killed, then resurrected and killed again only slower the second 
time.
     When she returned downstairs, Paula had a concerned look on 
her face . . . which worried me more than if she had been 
steaming at the ears, and with sparks leaping from her eyes.
     "I . . . I can . . . can explain," I stuttered; knowing that 
I couldn't.
     "No," Paula said firmly, "it's my fault really, I should 
have realized it would probably happen.  I just didn't expect it 
to be YOU that's all.  I thought it would be some older kid  or 
at the very worst, one of her teachers.  I should have explained 
it to you; but I didn't think it would happen this early."
     "What the HELL are you talking about?" I eventually 
interrupted her.  "What do you mean it's YOUR fault . . . you 
come home, find me with my bare prick buried to the hilt in our 
8-year-old daughter's cunt; sperm leaking all over the place; 
knowing I've not only just fucked our little girl by sliding my 
thick prick all the way up in her tummy, but I didn't even pull 
out when I came; ejaculating my sperm in the child's womb and 
filling our daughter's body with incestuous seed almost as if I 


                                17


was trying to get the little girl pregnant by her own father; and 
then you say it's YOUR fault?!"  (If it sounds like I was trying 
to shock Paula, I was.  I couldn't figure out why she wasn't mad 
at me; and I felt so guilty I actually WANTED her to punish me.)
     "Well yeah.  Like I said, I should have warned you it might 
happen," she groaned; sinking into the sofa beside me. "It 
explained it all in that book we got . . . remember the one the 
Doctor recommended when we noticed what Carly was doing?  The one 
I read and you didn't," she said; giving me a pointed look.  "It 
said that if the touching and playing continued into later life, 
like six or seven, it could be a sign of what's called 
promiscuous puberty."
     I looked at her with a blank expression on my face.  "So 
what's that then?"
     "Well, what it means is: That unlike most girls and boys of 
course, some kids mature far earlier than others.  The fact that 
Carly has always been interested in what could be described as 
'sexual pleasures' could have caused it.  And when I say 'mature 
earlier' I mean it.  They most often fixate on someone of the 
opposite sex, and try to interest them sexually.  It's happened 
lots of times before.  Don't you remember reading about little 
girls getting pregnant before they leave primary school?"
     "Vaguely," I replied.  "But she's only eight," I thought to 
myself, "surely not."
     "Well, that's our Carly . . . an early starter if ever there 
was one," Paula chuckled.  "So don't feel like you abused her. I 
would rather it was YOU who loved her, if it was going to happen, 
rather than some uncaring stranger, who'd exploit her."
     We chatted about it a while longer; relief that I wasn't 
going to be castrated with a blunt kitchen knife washing over me.  
With the trauma over and my heart back to a near normal speed, 
and the thought of imminent heart attack slowly receding, we went 
to bed.  After we showered, I was lying back thinking about what 
had occurred that evening, when Paula came into the room and 
slipped in beside me.
     "I'm glad you were so understanding about Carly's needs," my 
wife whispered in my ear; as she switched off the bedside lamp 
and snuggled down.  "She must have done a REAL good job on you 
tonight, for you to have squirted that much inside her.  Do you 
realize it had run right down both thighs to her ankles and 
soaked her socks by the time I got to clean her up?"
     Paula chuckled before continuing, "Not many men would do as 
good a job as that for their daughters, if they knew her 
condition.  It was late, so I just wiped her up and put her to 
bed.  There's probably going to be a wet-spot on the bed, and 
I'll have to wash sheets in the morning, because your cum was 
STILL oozing from her when she went to bed."  Paula giggled a 
little before turning over.  "No wonder Carly hasn't needed to 
masturbate, if you've been fucking her two or three times a day."
     "Uh . . . ."  I started to correct my wife's misconception.







                                18


     "Just make sure you finish in time for her to get to her 
dance-lessons, when you fuck her in the morning," continued 
Paula; not giving me a chance to explain that I hadn't been 
fucking Carly all that much . . . yet.  "While I don't want our 
daughter going there horny out of her mind; I don't want Carly to 
miss any lessons either.  OK?"
     "Uh . . . OK," I replied; almost stonkered by the idea that 
my wife seemed to almost EXPECT me to fuck our little girl in the 
morning as well as at night; sending our daughter off to her 
lessons with her tummy as full of her father's potent sperm as it 
was right now.  I grinned to myself in the darkness; as I thought 
about my sexy daughter lying in bed with my thick white sperm 
still oozing from her cute little cunny.
     "Seeing how much you came in her tonight" giggled Paula, 
expanding the image, "I'll have probably have to use a tampon to 
keep your sperm bottled up inside her in the morning; so Carly 
won't be dribbling cum down her legs, in front of her dance-
teacher.  We don't want to shock the poor man.  Some people have 
qualms about full-grown men fucking 8-year-old little girls, you 
know."
     Thus my wife let me know that while she wasn't mad at me, 
she still wasn't completely pleased by the idea of her husband 
fucking her pre-teen daughter and filling the child's womb with 
her own father's incestuous seed.  (Pre-teen?  My God; Carly is 
only 8 years old!)
     On the other hand, Paula seemed to actually EXPECT me to 
continue fucking Carly, now that I had started (as if I would 
either be cheating the little girl, or neglecting her, if I 
didn't).  And to top everything off, my wife not only didn't seem 
terribly annoyed by the idea of me having full unprotected 
vaginal intercourse with our daughter, she almost seemed to 
expect me to continue ejaculating my sperm in the little 8-year-
old's body; almost as if I was trying to get our little girl 
pregnant.
     Well, if that was what Carly and Paula wanted, I didn't see 
why I couldn't do my best to see that our daughter's vagina was 
kept filled with incestuous cum until she got old enough that we 
had to start taking precautions.  With any luck, it would be at 
LEAST three or four years (and maybe even longer than that) 
before we had to worry about one of my sperm combining with our 
little girl's eggs, and giving her a big belly.  In the meantime, 
since Paula didn't seem to mind, (Mind?  Heck, my oversexed wife 
almost seemed to WANT me to fuck Carly.) I figured I would "do my 
duty" to Carly by sending our daughter off to class each morning 
with my thick white sperm trapped in her cute little cunny by a 
fabric plug.
     Thinking of which, I couldn't help but grin at the image of 
our little girl going off to dance with a tampon holding my sperm 
bottled up in her cute little tummy.  Then I wondered, "Tampon?"  
curious as to where my wife would get some during the  night.  
Paula hasn't used tampons for YEARS.  The grin was wiped from my 
face a moment later when she replied; just before turning over 
and going to sleep.




                                19


     "Yes, tampon," assured Paula.  "I got some for Carly a week 
or so ago.  I DID tell you that Carly had her first period a 
couple of weeks ago, didn't I?"
     Now you know why I'm laying here awake relating my story to 
you . . . If you were in my place, would YOU be able to 
sleep???????

     The End
     Penned by Frosty
     Please feel free to write to me Via Mr. Double's page; but 
take note of the details in the header.
     Or, since Mr. Double seems to be at least temporarily "out 
of service" you can send me letters c/o Frank McCoy, and he'll 
try to forward them to me.











































                                20
