Date: Wed, 11 Feb 2015 02:24:30 -0800
From: Zack McNaught <zackmcnaught@hotmail.com>
Subject: My Angel, Alice (b/g, F/g, M/g and M/F, and a hint of M/b)

Disclaimer: I never said I was any good, so don't blame me if you think
it's a bit shit. The following story has the themes: b/g, M/F, M/g, F/g,
consensual, anal, oral, vaginal, masturbation. Bloody hell!

Please let me know if you liked the story, just so I know I'm not whistling
into the wind: zackmcnaught@hotmail.com.


My Angel, Alice

The Peterson family were our oldest family friends. The kids reflected my
siblings and I almost perfectly. My older brother was born a few weeks
before the eldest boy among them, and to mirror me was Andrew, and then,
born only hours apart came the girls - Marie, my little sister, and her
almost-twin Carrie; they were two years younger than me. For the first nine
years of my life, the Petersons lived next door, our only neighbours. We
lived in a pair of old brick-built houses out in the farmlands of Suffolk.
I think the farmer had intended to build a whole little community, but -
perhaps because the money ran out - he stopped after two. So, there we
were, out in the middle of absolutely bugger all, forced together because
we couldn't get away from each other. Summers were spent in glorious hours
of endless play, winter in snowball fights (when it snowed!), and in
between times laughter and play and generally forming the memories upon
which a lifetime of happiness could be built.

Then the world fell apart around us, because when I was nine the Petersons
moved. Losing the equivalent of three extra siblings at that point in your
life is absolutely devastating. Worse still, it happened so quickly - Mr
Peterson's job moved down to Cornwall one day, and then in less than four
weeks they were gone. The house sold a couple of weeks after that, and when
an old, childless couple moved in, the desolation of the life I had known
was complete. OK, so that's over-dramatising a little (perhaps a lot...),
but I really did feel as though I had in some way been bereaved.

Our solace, such as it was, came in the summer holidays. With my dad
working and my mum having to look after three bored kids in the middle of
nowhere for six weeks, it quickly became the norm for us to join up with
the Petersons for at least a month of the holidays, if not the whole
time. And where better than their house down on the coast, with the beach
right there? It was a rambling old place with uneven floors and half-baked
extensions all over the place, and hidden passages in the walls; a properly
fantastical location, then, to spend the warm summer days, with nothing to
do but play. It was our haven, that house, a place where childhood dreams
could seed, grow and blossom in a day, and be reborn the next. Whole
mornings out at the beach followed by sultry afternoons playing games
around the house as outside thunder growled around the skies, ready at any
moment to drench you with fat droplets of warm rain in their millions, or
to blow you right out of your shoes with a lethal bolt of lightning. My
warmest memories of childhood came from that place - the games, the
laughter, and those secret little moments which came in the night or early
morning, and made you wonder whether perhaps it had been a dream after all.

It was the girls who started it. The girls who spoke in whispers and were
smart and sensible, and mature beyond their years. I didn't know if it was
Marie or Carrie who was the ringleader, or perhaps they were both
responsible for what went on, but from the age of ten (when the girls were
eight), Andrew and I became the test subjects in what seemed a never-ending
quest to learn the differences between boys and girls, and everything that
implied.

It started slowly, of course - these things are organic, not
planned. Swimming was very much a clothing optional activity when it was
just us boys, and so, confident that we were alone, Andrew and I found
ourselves out in the bay messing about in the water one day. Returning to
shore, we discovered that to our horror our clothes were gone. There was
no-one about, and nor would there be - even dog walkers wouldn't make it
out to this remote little corner - but even then the embarrassment of
returning to the house naked was mortifying, because our mothers and the
girls would be there. At first we thought our older brothers were
responsible, but then remembered that they were out in a nearby town all
day, and wouldn't be back until dusk (oh, the privilege of being
fifteen!). It was then I saw the note. It was written on pink paper in my
little sister's curly handwriting, and it said: "If you want your clothes
back, get both your willys [sic] to stand up and turn all the way round."

I immediately scanned the bushes all along the edge of the beach, but could
see no sign of the girls. Frustration kicked in - I really didn't want to
have to do what they asked, but I equally didn't want Mrs Peterson to see
me naked. The girls were one thing, but Mrs Peterson? For some reason the
very thought horrified me. I looked across at Andrew, and our eyes met. We
had in fact been wanking off together for a couple of weeks already, after
he showed me some old polaroids he'd found in the attic of the house when
they moved in. They were extremely explicit, and he'd even promised me one
of them if I wanked off with him, and so I did. So, it wasn't as though we
hadn't seen each other with a hard-on, and perhaps because of that, he
tilted his head slightly to one side and shrugged.

It wasn't easy to get hard. Even in the height of summer the water was
freezing, and we were very much shrivelled up, but once the warm sun had
heated us through and the sheer naughtiness of what we were doing had hit
me, my little spike managed to bob its way skywards, until it was nail-like
with the hardness of youth. As soon as we were primed, we span on the spot,
and even before we had returned to our starting positions our clothes were
flying out of the bushes a little way down the beach, propelled forward, it
seemed, by the riotous giggling coming from within. The girls were of
course long gone before we came even close to their hiding place.

It wouldn't be the last event that summer, either. As the days wore on, the
girls became bolder. Carrie flashed me her soft little girl place from
beneath the confines of her nightdress one evening as we played Monopoly,
then grew braver still, strutting past me and into her bedroom one evening
after her bath, naked as they day she was born with only a towel wrapped
around her head. She flashed me a brilliant smile over her shoulder as she
kicked the door shut behind her. Only much later, as I replayed the events
in my mind, did I realise she must have carefully waited for me, and for
no-one else to be around. What had appeared utterly nonchalant was probably
mildly terrifying for her.

These little liaisons continued, almost always at her instigation. Any
number of times she burst in on me as I took a bath or a shower,
proclaiming her immediate and irresistible urge to wee, her eyes fixed on
the immature worm in my crotch. At first I covered up shyly, but by the
time it had become an almost nightly occurrence I simply left myself
exposed, and more often than not grew hard, too. I wonder what her parents
thought - all those times she burst in on me when she could just as easily
have used the downstairs loo. Then I started finding excuses to do the same
- forgotten clothes, or a similar need to use the toilet, until after a
while we might as well have bathed together.

In fact, that's how it ended up after all. On the last night of the holiday
both sets of parents decided they would go for a meal and leave the older
boys in charge. That didn't mean complete freedom, but while my brother and
Carrie's tried to act mature and responsible downstairs, us kids ended up
making a massive den in one of the bedrooms upstairs, planning to camp in
it for the night. It was when we were making sleeping arrangements that a
blushing Carrie came up to me and leaned close, whispering in my ear.

"Do you want to have a bath with me?"

I was both shocked and immediately aroused. Right then I wanted nothing
more in the entire world. We scampered off together, not mentioning where
we were going to anyone. In the bathroom we shed our clothes as quickly as
we could, and then just stood in front of each other, motionless, waiting
for the other to move. My heart was thumping so hard in my chest that I
could see it beating beneath my sternum, and Carrie blushed so deeply that
it spread down her neck almost to her nipples.

"We should run the bath," she said, breathlessly, after we had been
standing there for what seemed like an eternity, but was almost certainly
somewhat less.

She sat on the side of the bath with one leg in and the other out as the
water cascaded into the tub. Her position spread her lips wide apart, and I
feasted my eyes on the pinkness within, and the strange protrusion at the
front. I had been through sex education by that stage, but the dull
two-dimensional, monochrome images in books hadn't prepared me for the
soft, sloping valley of her sex and the bump which rose through it to
gently kiss the enamelled side of the bath when she leaned forward.

Her eyes followed my gaze to her girlhood, and she chuckled, a dirty little
sound which was out of keeping with her normal sweet and innocent
demeanour, but somewhat fitting.

"It's like a mini willy, isn't it? Mummy says it's called a clitoris, but I
just call it my bump."

For my part I had become diamond hard, the tip of my long foreskin
quivering with each heartbeat.

"Does the skin peel back?" she asked suddenly, pointing to the tip of my
boyhood. I nodded and demonstrated, and she gasped as the shiny, engorged
head came into view.

"Can I do it?"

I had no idea what it would feel like to have her hand upon me. I hadn't
counted on it being so warm, and soft, and so perfect. As her fingers
wrapped around my shaft and pulled the skin down and back up, down and back
up, I felt something stirring deep inside. I tried to stop myself, tried to
make it last longer, but hair-triggered as I was I groaned, shivered
violently and fired a single volley of watery, thin semen three feet in the
air. It landed with a splat right in the middle of the bath water, and
Carrie burst out laughing, falling off the side of the bath and onto the
floor in the process. I, too, couldn't stop giggling, and fell with her. We
lay there, panting, trying to catch our breaths, while the bath continued
to fill.

She moved closer, then up on all fours, and then above me, leaning over me,
looking deep into my eyes. I knew then that, as immature as my feelings
were, Carrie was the first girl I ever loved. Thank God she took the
initiative, because I never could - she leaned down and with an infinitely
gentle caress gave me my first kiss.

"I know how it happens," she said somewhat cryptically. I stared back at
her, trying to act as if I knew what she was saying, but no words came. I
was still contemplating what it could be that she understood when the
softest, warmest sensation I had ever felt spread over the underside of my
still-rigid penis. I glanced down between us and there, sticking out from
the lips of her fanny, was the tip of my willy. Her little bump was crushed
of to one side, and the fat lips of her fanny spread around my shaft to
touch the skin of my crotch.

I almost came again. Tingling sensations shot out from my groin, making my
stomach cramp, my breathing become ragged and my head go light. Ever so
gently she rubbed herself back and forth on the spike between her legs, her
eyelids drooping as pleasure blossomed deep down. For a few minutes she
just ground herself there, wetness slowly forming inside her and pushing
out to bathe my boyhood until she slid back and forth with ease.

She stopped, and her eyes came up. She had been watching what she was
doing, but now she looked me deep in the eyes, kissed me again - still a
little peck, not a grown-up kiss - and said again,

"I really do know how to do it."

And this time she made it quite clear what she meant. Reaching down between
us she pushed the rigid spike backwards into the soft folds of her sex, and
then with little ceremony began to sit.

It was agony, as least as much for me as her, for her tight passage gripped
my foreskin and wrenched it back as the unprepared tube of flesh stretched
to accommodate me. But stretch it did, and when she lifted her hips and sat
back down there was sudden, shocking compliance and the most
heart-poundingly astonishing sensation all around my little protrusion.

Oh God, nothing should have felt that good, that tight, that hot, that
soft, that wet, that thoroughly fucking wonderful. Nothing could have
matched the sucking sensation as she pulled up, or the rushing, sliding
feeling of her gentle return, until pubis met hairless pubis, and she sat
upon my hips.

I didn't reach orgasm that time. Nor did she. It's just not the kind of
thing which happens when you're both so young and so inexperienced. I knew
what it was like to reach my peak, but she was just too tight, and her
motions too rough for me to gain that much pleasure from the
act. Eventually we just stopped, and she climbed off with a grin on her
face. My dick pulled out of her and slapped wetly against my lower stomach,
my skin made dark with her wetness.

"See, told you I could do it," she said, proudly.

I sat up and stared at her in wonder, and nodded mutely, then looked down
between her legs to where her hold still gaped slightly open. It was an
image seared into my memory for life.

---

We did it once more that holiday, in the pale light of early morning, on
the floor of her bedroom wrapped in sleeping bags. This time she lay back
with her legs open, and I pushed myself into her, and this time I reached
my peak, wrapped in a warm fug of our combined scents, a jumble of arms and
legs and panting, thrusting desire. Afterwards she showed me how she played
with herself until she, too, made it, curling into a ball with her fingers
pressed tightly between her thighs and her skin mottled red. When she had
finished she looked up at me with a guilty expression, and pulled the
covers over herself.

---

To be parted from her was agonising for at least a few days, but then
school started, and I was ten, and it's amazing how quickly these things
are forgotten by boys that age. Occasionally she would write, and I would
always reply, but it would end up being a year before I saw her again.

The summer of the year I turned eleven we made our annual pilgrimage down
to Cornwall, stuffed into mum's ageing estate car for eight hours of pure
hell. By the time we tumbled out at the other end we were hot, sweaty and
tired, and in my little sister's case smelling strongly of her own
vomit. All in all, we were in no mood for anything other than cooling down
and getting some fresh air, and yet when I saw Carrie standing there my
heart instantly lifted.

The year had changed her. Still some way short of her ascension to
womanhood, she had nonetheless grown magnificently, from a short girl with
sensuous, rounded limbs into a tall, willowy wraith, all pale-skinned and
freckled, her auburn hair flowing in thick locks across her shoulders. My
God she was beautiful, and my youthful heart responded by sending
butterflies to flutter vigorously in my stomach. She gave me a shy, nervous
half wave as I stumbled from the car.

Then, for the next few hours, we studiously ignored each other.

Funny that, isn't it? Funny how you can realise you're so keen to see
someone, but because of the social structure around you, you can feel
unable to even talk to them. I was Andrew's friend, and my little sister,
Marie, was Carrie's, and that's how we were divided. The girls went off,
giggling together before they were even out of sight, and Andrew
immediately took me off to see something or other cool that he had found in
the year we were apart. I don't even remember what it was.

I was quite happy with this arrangement, and so it seems was Carrie. It's
just how things were - I was two years older than her, and a boy, and we
couldn't just start playing together, no matter how close we'd been in the
past. Which was pretty close, really - I'd used the memories of our time
together the previous summer to fuel at least half a thousand moments of
private pleasure in the intervening months. That's more than one a day, for
those of you counting. Yet that was purely a physical act, and not
representative of an emotional desire to be around Carrie all day
long. Let's not forget, she was nine, and I eleven. She a girl, and I a
boy.

And so we played, separately, for the rest of the day, until with the sun
finally sinking in the west we were called inside and told to go to
bed. Three or four hours later, when we had actually, finally made it to
bed and almost everyone was asleep, at the point where one day becomes
another I was awoken.

"Come with me," she said softly, her nose tickling my ear. I did so gladly,
following her soft, nightie-clad bottom across the hallway. My shorts were
already tenting in anticipation.

Her bedroom hadn't changed a great deal. She evicted most of the soft toys
from her bed, although her favourite teddy was allowed to remain. She
climbed in, and held the sheet back for me, and then when I joined her
pulled it over us both. We lay on our sides facing each other, and she
stared into my eyes with a vague smile on her lips. Her bed had a musty,
sexy smell about it, and I recognised it as coming from that magical pocket
between her legs.

"I missed you," she said. "Did you miss me?"

I nodded, of course - at that point I would have said anything to please
her.

"Good. Do you remember what we did last year?"

I nodded again, this time with a smile. How the hell could I forget that?

"If you want to do it again, you have to do something for me," she said,
shifting around in the bed. She rolled onto her back, and out from beneath
the sheets and over her head came her nightie, which she threw past me onto
the floor.

Without telling me what she intended she took my hand in hers and guided my
fingers to the warm, soft skin of her cleft. I gasped at the sensation, and
felt my dick throb and spray a little jet of watery semen into my
shorts. Jesus, I'd spurted already!

"Now push it down and in a bit," she said, coaching me. I could see her
heart beating in her chest, and the pulse in her throat as she lay back and
instructed me. Her eyes fluttered and shut, and a gasp escaped her lips.

"Now bring it up and press on the button. Wiggle it," she said, and I
trailed my fingers up through her slit to the top, finding the little bean
of her clit and mashing it into the bone beneath. "Oh my God. It's sooo
much better when someone else does it. Just keep going up and down and
touch the button sometimes."

I did exactly as she asked, feeling privileged to be touching her like
this. Her fanny was slippery with wetness now, and split wide apart as her
legs fell to either side. One knee bumped into my still-erect boyhood, and
I humped slightly against it through the damp fabric of my shorts as I ran
my fingers up and down her slit.

Carrie became more and more agitated, pushing her hips up to meet my
fingers, directing where they went with sensuous wriggles of her
pelvis. Her breathing became ragged, and then reduced to nothing more than
a series of rapid pants, and then she made it over the top. Her hands flew
down to clamp onto mine, pressing my fingers hard into her and squeezing
the whole lot in an iron grip with her thighs. She shivered and moaned, and
cried like a little kitten, so much so that for a moment I thought I had
damaged her. But then she came back to me, and smiled, and all was well
with the world.

She let go of my hand and reached up to brush a stray strand of hair away
from her damp, sweaty forehead.

"Thanks," she whispered after a few moments. "That was the best one ever."

She lay back for a minute with her eyes shut, still breathing hard. I
thought for a minute she might be going to sleep, but then her eyes
flickered open once more and she grinned at me.

"OK, then. Your turn. Do you want me to do you with my fingers or do you
want to put it in my fanny?"

"Um," I replied, far less sure of myself than she was.

"Go on," she said, sitting up and throwing off the sheet before tugging my
shorts down and off. "Put it in. Let's have sex."

Nervous despite everything which had happened between us, I got up and
knelt between her legs as she lay back with her hands behind her head and
her legs spread widely. I leaned over her and tried to guide myself in, but
all I did was mash my foreskin against her sex, and as enjoyable as that
was, it wasn't what I wanted.

Carrie smiled at me, and I felt a hand worm its way down between our
bodies. The sensation of her fingers on my shaft was incredible, but
nowhere near as astonishing as the feeling of being dragged to the opening
of her vagina.

"Push in now," she said, and as I did so I found heaven. She was looser
than the year before, but only just, and I pushed forward through a tight
ring of muscle into a velvet glove beyond. I sat there for a moment,
breathing hard, trying not to let myself go again before I'd had the chance
to enjoy it. Her sex twitched and clamped down hard on my rigid little
invader; I groaned and she giggled.

"Remember you have to move it in and out," she said, and so I did, and
found the sensation even more excruciatingly pleasurable. On each thrust
into her my foreskin was peeled back so that the hypersensitive skin of my
glans was exposed to the silken flesh of her tunnel, and on each withdrawal
it sucked at me, as if unwilling to let go. All the time I was thrusting in
and out of her she simply smiled up at me, and sometimes grunted when I
thrust too hard.

A minute later I came. The extra fluid eased my passage until with each
orgasmic thrust we squelched, and Carrie had to stifle her laughter with a
hand. I pulled out of her now thoroughly sodden hole, and she peered down
at it, grabbing a flash-light from her bed and shining it down at herself
unabashedly. I took the chance to have a look, and found her gaping
slightly from the intrusion. A little fluid, partly hers and partly mine,
had dribbled down onto the sheet, making a darker patch.

"Did you sperm in me?" she asked, with a shocked look on her face.

"Sorry," I muttered, but she wasn't angry.

"Oh my God, Andrew is going to be so pissed off. He still doesn't make
sperm yet. Do you make lots?"

I couldn't answer that - after all, how many eleven year olds know what
'lots' is? But I did have questions of my own.

"Do you do this with him, then?"

Carrie got a shocked look on her face, and punched me on the arm.

"He's my brother! Of course I don't, you idiot. I just watch him through
his door sometimes. He doesn't know I do that. Don't tell him, OK? If you
do I won't let you do this any more."

I promised not to tell, and a few minutes later was sent back to bed. Yep,
Carrie was definitely in charge.

---

This would turn out to be a summer of firsts. Who knew where her knowledge
came from? There was no internet in those days, and most kids learned about
sex by word of mouth long before teachers or parents had a chance to say
anything. Perhaps one of her little friends was particularly
promiscuous. It hardly mattered, though - I wasn't exactly wondering how
she knew what to do as she lowered her mouth around my willy, closed her
lips and applied the most wonderful, shocking suction. Or when she made me
push not one but two fingers into her tight little hole, because she liked
the feeling of being stretched. Or the first time she convinced me to push
my tongue in between the delicate folds of her vulva and taste her musty,
sweet nectar.

To suggest that all we experienced that summer was sex would be to paint an
unfair picture. During the day, there was little opportunity for naked
fun. We would play with our peers - I with Andrew and she with Marie - but
then in the nighttime she would come to me. Not each night, sometimes not
for several nights in a row, but always she would return, and whisper in my
ear, and take me off to her bed. There she would toy with me until my
increasingly voluminous ejaculation was drawn from my body, to fall across
my stomach, or fire up into her hot little fanny, or into her mouth to be
spat out of her window into the rose hedge below.

Then, toward the end of the summer a change came over us. She wouldn't send
me straight back to bed after our play. She wanted to hug, to snuggle her
naked form against mine, and curiously I found myself enjoying those
hugs. I liked the feeling of her pressed along my side, her crooked leg
draped over my middle, the damp heat of her well-used sex pressed against
my thigh. More often than not another playtime would be invoked as my
boyhood rose to the occasion, but sometimes, just sometimes, I would drift
off to sleep and wake still wrapped in her arms in the pale light of
morning. If anyone noticed, nothing was ever said.

---

Parting from her as the summer drew to a close was both more painful and
pleasurable than I had expected. Promises were made to stay in touch, and
in a moment of pure wonder she dragged me off to a hidden little spot in
the shade of a honeysuckle tree and kissed me. Then, smiling, she knelt in
front of me, unzipped my shorts and took my stiff little boyhood out
through the fly. She leaned forward and with well practised lips and tongue
brought me to a knee-trembling ejaculation in her mouth. For the first
time, as a dedication to me she swallowed my slippery, salty load, then
grinned at me while an uncaptured drip dangled from her chin.

I stumbled to the car and waved her goodbye with a silly grin on my face.

---

And so the summers came and went. Each year our attraction was renewed, and
each year we were ripped apart once more. I grew into puberty, and so did
she. I started having to wear protection, and discovered the joy of her
growing breasts, and she enjoyed the thickening of my penis and the
increased pleasure she could gain from it.

Then, one year it didn't happen. There was no sign, no particular ending,
but we just stopped. I was sixteen and she fourteen, and we had enjoyed six
summers of sex together. Then we just didn't do it any more. She didn't
come to me in the night. I didn't ask. We just... stopped.

---

I had been at university for two years when I saw Carrie again; after the
summer I turned sixteen we had stopped going to Cornwall. It was time.

I was just moving into my third year and was helping with the new intake of
freshers. There I was standing outside the student union holding a sign
asking if anyone needed help, and someone tapped me on the shoulder. I span
around and there she was, bright as a button, and absolutely ravishingly
gorgeous. My heart leapt into my mouth.

We ended up dating for a little while. It worked, sort of, but we were
different people and so we drifted apart.

---

Seven years later, I was working for an advertising firm in London when I
received a call from reception saying there was someone who wanted to see
me, someone by the name of Carrie Peterson. I almost dropped the phone, but
managed to maintain enough composure to respond that yes, I would like her
to be shown in.

She was as stunning as ever, but now elegant, assured, and dressed to the
nines in a business suit so sharp that she cut the air around her.

"Hi, Zack," she purred. "How are you?"

---

She was in town for one night, and one night only, before jetting back to
New York. Of course she lived in New York, of course she did! In a bloody
trendy loft apartment, too. We walked around London that night, warmed
through with wine, and then we fucked, long and hard in her hotel room.

"Do you remember when I was eight and we did this in the bathroom that
summer?" she asked as she lay with her head on my shoulder afterwards. Then
she laughed as my manhood rose to attention at the memory, and we did it
again.

---

Some years later, out of the blue I got a Christmas card from Carrie... and
Alice. Who, I asked myself, was Alice? I allowed all sorts of crazy ideas
to pass through my mind before I did what I should have in the first place
- I checked the back of the card. There she was - Carrie, as marvellous as
ever, and next to her the cutest little girl I had ever seen. Carrie and
Alice. There was no doubt at all she was Carrie's - the similarity was just
too strong - but there was another familiarity in that face, too. I
couldn't pin it down though.

---

"Hey, Zack, it's Carrie. How are you?"

I almost dropped the phone, again. She had a habit of inducing that in
me. I was back at my parents' house for a few days, visiting while my
mother underwent a minor op. My father was in no way capable of looking
after himself, so I stepped in. And there she was. Carrie, on the end of
the phone. She had rung because she was back in Cornwall, at her parents'
house just as I was at mine, and her mother had told her of my mother's
illness. She had rung, out of the blue, to ask after mum, and had got me
instead of my dad.

We agreed that a meet-up was most definitely in order, and having
established that I was free for another week after mum's trip to the
hospital (just in case something was amiss) she insisted that I visit her
in Cornwall. Well, what was I to do? On the proviso that all went well with
the operation, I agreed to the visit instantly.

---

The house had hardly changed. I think perhaps it had been repainted - a
very pale yellow hue instead of equally anaemic pink - and the rose and
honeysuckle bushes had conquered the garden walls, but I was transported
instantly back to my youth, to those glorious summers spent here.

It was early morning still. I'd caught the sleeper down from London the
night after my mum had been discharged. She was fine, and so I was relieved
of my duties. The journey down hadn't quite held up to the romantic visions
I had in my mind, and the bumpy taxi ride with chain smoking racist hadn't
helped, but to be here in spitting distance of the sea was glorious. I
stood a moment, letting the salty tang in the morning breeze clean out my
mind.

"Oh!" came a sound to my right. It was a tiny little squeak, surprised and
yet melodic. I turned to face it and came face to face with a vision of an
angel.

She must have been about seven or eight, I thought, or maybe a small nine;
I never could tell with kids, despite having several nephews and a
niece. She was blonde haired, blue eyed and alabaster white, and wore
nothing more than a thin, white cotton summer dress. It was soaked through,
and clung tightly to every last curve and crease of her body, leaving
nothing at all for the imagination to muse over. My heart leapt at the
sight of her, and emotions stirred in me which I fought hard to
suppress. Most surprising of all, if she knew what she was showing off she
showed no sign of modesty.

"Uh... hi," I finally managed. "I'm Zack. I'm looking for Carrie."

She smiled a sweet little smile, and spun on her heel.

"Mom, there's a man here for you!" she yelled. It was still a melodious
voice, but with more syllables to go on I could appreciate the thick New
York accent. She turned back to me and grinned. "She's inside."

I nodded, and waited, not wishing to intrude, although I'm sure Carrie's
parents would have had no objection to me simply waltzing in and sitting
down at the kitchen table. No matter, though - a moment later Carrie
appeared, and like her daughter blew me completely away.

Carrie is one of those women who grows ever more majestic with age. Thick
tresses of hair, dyed shocking orange fell across her shoulders. Her face
was adorned with fashionably thick-framed spectacles, but they did nothing
to hide her obvious beauty. She carried herself with the sophistication and
confidence which only very powerful women can manage, and I found her
irresistibly alluring. Everything I had felt on seeing Alice for the first
time went double for her mother.

The hug was something else, though - this wasn't the forced intimacy of the
air kiss or the gentle embrace, this was a bear hug, strong enough to
squeeze the air from my lungs. She pulled away from me with damp eyes and a
gentle smile on her lips.

"My God am I glad to see you, Zachary."

"Me too," I said, raising a hand and touching her face. I hadn't realised
until then how badly I had missed her. Why weren't we together again?

"Come here, sweetie," she called over to Alice, who complied without
complaint. "Probably guessed it, Zack," she went on, "but this is my little
girl, Alice. Ally, sweetheart, this is Zack, mummy's friend. Do you
remember me talking about him?"

Alice, for some reason, blushed very heavily, giggled and buried her head
in her hands, peeking at me through a gap between her fingers.

"Ignore her," Carrie said with laughter in her voice. "I'll explain
later. First, though, you have to come round and have breakfast in the back
garden. Mum and dad are out for the morning already, but we're taking it
easy."

And so we sat in the sun, feeling it slowly warm the day and burn the dew
off the grass. That was how Alice's nightshirt had become so thoroughly
soaked - from rolling in the morning dew. I had forgotten, but Carrie
reminded me that she, too, had done something similar as a child. Alice
soon grew bored of our adult conversation, and went off to explore the back
of the garden.

"She's adorable," I said, when she was out of earshot.

"You think so?" Carrie asked.

"Yeah, she's wonderful. She looks just like you."

"She does, doesn't she? I've got a lovely picture of us two the year I
turned eight, out here in the garden, and she looks just like I did
then. Quite a bit like you, too, I suppose..."

She looked straight into my eyes as she said that, and I knew instantly
what she was trying to tell me. I knew why, when I saw their photo on the
back of the Christmas card years before that Alice looked so familiar. It
was a face which stared out of the mirror at me every morning. In my head
and my heart I went through a thousand emotions in the handful of seconds
which followed, while outwardly I tried to match Carrie's cool
detachment. A rather enigmatic Mona Lisa smile curled the corners of her
lips.

"It's quite cute, really," she said after a few moments' awkward
silence. "You look a bit like a rabbit in the headlights. Don't worry,
Zack, I'm not going to start demanding anything of you."

"I thought I was doing quite well," I replied, probably a little more
sulkily than I intended.

"Oh, you are, sweetie. You're doing very well," she said in a patronising
tone.

"It's not every day you get told you have a nine year old daughter, you
know! It's going to take a while to sink in. My mum's going to kill me!"

She laughed uproariously at that, until tears were streaming down her
cheeks.

"I suppose I'll have to marry you, too," I continued. "Make an honest woman
of you and all that."

She stopped laughing, but the smile never left her lips.

"That's not what I..." she began, then stopped herself.

"What about New York?" I asked.

She looked at me with a slight expression of dread. For the first time the
smile was gone from her lips.

"Please don't talk about that place, Zack. Just... don't."

And that was that.

---

I stayed for the rest of the week, and unlike when we were kids there was
no need for sneaking around. I slept in Carrie's double bed with the full
knowledge and presumed consent of her parents, who were over the moon to
see me despite the fact that I had impregnated their daughter and never
even met my offspring.

Carrie and I had long chats into the wee hours about everything and
nothing. I was desperate to know why she hadn't told me Alice was mine for
all these years, and what had made her change her mind now, but every time
I raised the question she avoided answering, until I gave up and just
accepted that this was where I was and nothing I could do would change
it. She wouldn't discuss New York, or why she was so keen to return to the
UK now.

And she took me to her bed, and we made gentle, sweet, tender love. Not
mad, animalistic, passionate sex - there would be plenty of time for that
later - but the kind of union where each lover is reminding the other why
they fell in love in the first place. Perhaps, for the first time we also
admitted that's what we had felt for each other all those years
before. Carrie took me outside in the middle of the night, and beneath the
very same honeysuckle where she had drawn my essence from me so many years
before, she knelt and repeated the devotion.

---

One morning, toward the end of the week, we lay slumbering in our bed. The
window was open, letting in the cool breeze after a sultry, thundery
night. We'd slept without making love, so when I woke to feel Carrie
stirring next to me I decided - before I'd even woken enough to open my
eyes - that I must have her.

We were naked beneath the sheets, so it was the simplest task to run my
hand up her flank. She was turned away from me, so I continued to trace my
fingertips up across her hip, over her ribcage and onto the breast which
hung down. I skirted around her nipple, knowing that it would drive her
crazy to do so, and was rewarded with the feel of goosebumps raised beneath
my fingers, like Braille telling me she was ready. She sighed gently and
rolled her shoulders toward me, trying to force my fingers to brush the
little sensitive nub, but I pulled away, and instead returned to her lower
reaches.

She let out a tiny moan when I caressed the hills of her firm backside, and
then squeaked when I cheekily plunged my fingers between her thighs from
behind, finding her hot, damp sex ready to accept my intruding fingers. Our
foreplay was barely begun and already she was in heat. I pushed firmly
inside and she grunted, then moaned again, this time louder and more drawn
out. Determined not to make it easy for her, I slid free my fingers and
trailed them over her buttocks and hips, leaving a damp trace of her
excitement.

I carried on up and over her hip, and onto the soft skin of her stomach,
when something strange happened. The backs of my knuckles brushed against
bare skin. I paused, trying to work out what position she could possibly be
lying in, but I could think of nothing. I opened my eyes and tried to look
beyond her, but from where I was I could see nothing, and although I was a
little confused I wasn't ready to stop playing. If I'd known what my hand
had actually touched, perhaps I would have ended it there and then. But I
didn't.

I resumed moving my hand, not put off by the extra resistance of sliding
between two sets of skin. I remember thinking it was funny that what was
brushing against my knuckles felt very much like a bottom. A little
bottom. The kind of pert little bottom which might be attached to the kind
of little nine year old who at that very moment let out a muffled squeak.

I froze. My heart wanted to burst from my chest. Why hadn't Carrie stopped
if she knew Alice was in the bed with us? And now here I was with my hand
between them, wedged up against Alice's very naked little bum! I started to
ever so slowly withdraw it, not wanting to make too much of the action in
case it was misconstrued, but Carrie had other thoughts.

"Don't you dare!" she whispered angrily, taking my hand and shoving it back
toward her crotch, which pushed the back of my middle finger firmly between
Alice's buttocks. My daughter squeaked again, but this time there was
something more to the tone, and a little sigh to follow. I moved my fingers
gently into Carrie's cleft, finding her pubic hair matted with her arousal,
and for a few moments ran my fingers up and down. Each time I withdrew, my
knuckles bumped into Alice's soft backside, and each time she moaned or
sighed, and pressed herself just a little farther back into her mother's
lap.

This was beyond weird, and yet at the same time it felt very natural, and
totally loving. From the way we lay I could tell Carrie's arms were around
our daughter, though it was impossible to tell where her hands lay. I
continued gently frigging my lover while the nine year old on the other
side of her grew ever more insistent with her backward pressure. She was
pushing my knuckle ever further into the sweaty crevice of her backside,
until as I drew my hand away from the mother's sex my finger was pushing
against the daughter's rear passage.

My only excuse for what happened next as that lust had driven me
insane. Curious, inflamed with passion, and determined to see how serious
Carrie was about involving Alice, I reversed my hand and plunged it down
between Alice's buttocks, hunting for her soft, hairless, immature
sex. Memories of her mother's smooth little vulva flooded my mind - the
feel, the smell, the taste - and I wanted to experience that again. I
wanted to push my fingers into the soft little valley and hunt for her tiny
nubbin, and press the very tip of my finger against the most intimate spot
of her body. Would she yield as easily as her mother had all those years
before?

But I was late to the party! Someone else's fingers were there already,
plugging the hole and squeezing gently in and out. Little fingers, the
girl's not her mothers, though I wouldn't have been surprised either
way. Carrie must have known what I was doing, but she lay unmoving, except
for the gentle, insistent rocking of her bum in my lap, trapping my leaking
erection between her cheeks.

I thought my passage blocked, my advance fruitless, but suddenly hot, damp
little fingers grabbed my own, and drew me forward. Expertly they bent all
but my middle finger down, and then pressed its tip against the hot pocket
of her nine-year-old sex.

Alice's hole grasped my finger, clamping down on it as she first gasped and
then shuddered. A little orgasm, a twitch, a warning sign for something
bigger to come. I pushed in to the second knuckle, feeling pressure
building until I felt I had to stop, then withdrew. Alice groaned, and
pushed her bum backwards.

Carrie chose that moment to push backward, too, reaching down between us
and grasping my shaft, painting her rosebud with my wetness. I'd never been
in her that way before, but as I fingered her daughter she pressed slowly
but insistently back onto me, until I was buried to the hilt in her bum.

It took very little to make Alice go off like a firecracker, wriggling,
squirming, kicking out with her legs and desperately pushing my finger out
of her grasping insides. She whimpered and rolled away from us, emerging
from beneath the sheet and lying on her stomach with her eyes closed and a
frown on her face, and her little hands trapped beneath her body in her
crotch. God, she was pretty - her pert little backside was just about the
nicest I'd ever seen, and as I watched her lying there in post-orgasmic
trauma, I grabbed Carrie's hips and fucked her bum for all I was worth.

---

Alice slept upstairs, while Carrie and I crept down and made coffee,
sitting in the kitchen overlooking the sea. She sat gingerly, and gave me a
wry smile.

"Sorry, I went a bit hard."

"It's OK. Tells me how hard we turned you on."

"I... look, I'm sorry, Carrie. I shouldn't have done that to Alice. That
was wrong. I should've stopped."

She looked me squarely in the eyes.

"Could you have? Could you have stopped yourself? If you could you're
stronger than I am. God, I can barely keep my hands off her. I mean, have
you seen that little bum?"

I sat speechless for a moment. I shouldn't have been shocked any
more. Nothing should have surprised me, and yet her blunt admission knocked
me for six.

"Have you... have you and she..."

I couldn't quite bring myself to say it, but Carrie wasn't so squeamish.

"Sometimes," she said, staring out of the window at the waves rolling
gently in, "sometimes we lie in bed in the morning and I hug her, and she's
so warm and snuggly, and I'm in a sort of daze and my hands wander. I
suppose it was about two years ago it started; I just kind of let it happen
one morning, and she didn't stop me, she didn't question what I was
doing. It's not like we do it all the time, and we've never spoken about
it. It's just a nice time, me and her. She gets her little orgasm, and
sometimes I do too. We've never had anyone in bed with us though."

"And you don't mind that I touched her?"

Carrie shrugged.

"I don't know. I thought I might, but then when it happened it didn't seem
wrong."

"Do you think she minds? I mean, I didn't ask her."

Carrie gave me a lopsided smile.

"No, you didn't, did you? Don't worry, I know what she did. I felt her
pulling your hand forward. If she didn't want you to do it, she would've
stopped you. She can be quite forthright at times."

"She's so young, though..."

Another shrug.

"I was a year younger when we did it for the first time, and I'd been
playing with my uncle since I was five."

"Michael?" I asked. She nodded.

"He was always so gentle and loving, and he wasn't taking advantage of me,
not really. I kind of started it, and I suppose he could've stopped me, but
I don't hate him for letting it happen. It was just a bit of touching, and
he got me to suck him a few times, but it was never forced. I never felt
like he was using me, and I absolutely adored him. Big, strong, fun uncle
Mike. He was a little girl's dream, and he made me feel so squishy between
my legs."

"Doesn't he have two daughters of his own?"

"Yes, but don't worry, I've asked him. He said he's never touched them, and
I believe him."

"So, what do we do now?" I asked. But the reply never came, because at that
moment Carrie's father wandered into the kitchen.

---

A little while later we were out in the garden in the sun, enjoying its
warmth and having a family breakfast. Alice had emerged, still sleepy but
with a big smile and a hug for Carrie, and surprisingly for me, too. As she
wandered back in the house to get a glass of juice, I turned to Carrie.

"Does she know anything? About me, I mean."

"No, I haven't quite worked out how to tell her. She's always known her dad
was in England, and she knows who you are because I've talked about you,
but I don't think she's ever put two and two together."

"And what do you think, Paul?" I said, turning to Carrie's father. "Have
you always known?"

He stared at me, an indecipherable expression on his face. I always used to
be scared of Mr Peterson, but age had dulled his menace.

"Yes, I knew," he said at length. "Wanted Carrie to come after you for
child support, too, but she wouldn't. I almost told your mother once, but
she got in first and told me you were engaged, and it didn't seem the right
thing to do. What happened to that, by the way?"

"It... well, it didn't happen. Karen left me about a week before the
wedding. Lucky escape for me, by all accounts. And besides, Carrie's the
only girl I would ever really consider marrying."

It was meant in jest, of course. Carrie raised an eyebrow.

"If that's a proposal, you're going to have to make it a hell of a lot more
special!"

We laughed, and the moment was forgotten. It was only as we were clearing
away breakfast that Carrie brought it up once more. She leaned toward me in
passing, and whispered,

"It would be 'yes', by the way. Just in case you were thinking about it."

I stood shell-shocked and rooted to the spot, until my daughter pushed me
impatiently out into the garden to watch her do cartwheels.

---

We took a last walk along the coast path before I had to leave to get the
train back to London. We held hands, smiled at each other, laughed a bit
and smiled like goofy idiots. At the very top of the highest cliff I knelt
and asked Carrie to marry me. She smiled down at me and made me the
happiest man alive.

---

The guest bedroom was a tip. I'd always planned to turn it into a study or
library, but never managed to quite get around to it. Now, though, it would
be Alice's room, at least until after Carrie and I were married and we
could get somewhere bigger a bit further out of town. So, I boxed up what I
could, hired a van and took it all down to my parents' rambling old place,
where there was room in one of my dad's old sheds to keep it for a while.

Alice was over the moon to be allowed to choose how the room was
decorated. I'd naively expected something bright, mostly in shades of pink,
but I underestimated my little girl. Instead she choose a very grown-up
pale blue scheme, and asked me to buy some old furniture and help her
distress it in a French farmhouse style. She had a real eye for design, in
fact, and by the time she was done, her room was probably the best in the
house.

"Where did you learn about all this stuff?" I asked, and she just pulled
out her iPad and opened Pinterest. There were all her ideas, laid out in
various pins. It still took quite an eye to work out a design which fitted
the room, though, and I remained as impressed as ever.

Carrie and Alice moved in as soon as the room was ready. Alice was quickly
enrolled in a nearby school, and what possessions they had decided to ship
across from America turned up some weeks later to complete the picture.

And, for a little while at least, normality returned. I went to
work. Carrie got a job. Alice went to school. Everyone slept where they
should have done, and there were no early morning visits to our bed, to my
mixed relief and chagrin.

It made it no better to know that Alice would sometimes slip into bed with
Carrie when I had left early for work, and they would have their special
hugs. The fragrance often lingered in the room until I got home, the spicy
aroma of my fianc?e's sex mixed with the softer, sweeter flavour of my
little girl's. I could always sense the slightest trace of Alice's
excitement, because it so closely matched her mother's youthful scent.

---

It was now nearly a month before the wedding. Alice was about to turn ten,
and the issue of her true parentage had come up once again. I was standing
on the tiny little balcony outside our master bedroom, looking down at the
street where Alice rode back and forth on her bike.

"I want you to tell her," Carrie said, coming up behind me and wrapping her
arms around my torso. I didn't need to ask her what she wanted me to tell
Alice; it clearly wasn't to come inside and wash her hands for dinner. I
could see the idea made Carrie nervous, but at the same time she was
adamant. "I bought you something to give to her."

'Something' turned out to be a little silver pendant on a fine chain. It
had a daisy design on the front and was flat on the rear, with the name
'Alice McNaught' engraved thereon.

"Will she understand?" I asked.

"If she doesn't," Carrie replied, "then she's not the clever little girl I
thought I had raised."

I took Alice to the zoo; it seemed a good sort of a place to tell her
something like that. I don't know why I thought that - perhaps it was the
influence of countless films and television programmes. Besides, she was
inordinately fond of penguins, and if it's one thing ZSL is good for, it's
penguins...

We were having an ice-cream near the lions when I decided perhaps it was
time.

"Alice, sweetheart," I started, then realised I didn't have a script for
this, and inspiration was somewhat lacking. "Uh, there's something we need
to talk about."

"OK, what is it?" she asked brightly, not yet conditioned to expect
life-changing words to follow that particular sentence.

"Well, your mum and I are getting married soon, and we're all going to be
living together as a family."

"Well, duh. I know that, dummy."

"Yeah, well, given that it's a new start for everyone, your mum and I
thought it was about time we told you something really important."

"Oh God," she said, rolling her eyes. "Don't tell me, you're going to say
something like you're my real dad or something."

I just stared at her. She was joking, obviously, but had hit the nail right
on the head. She saw my look, and the smile dropped from her face.

"You're kidding, right?" she said.

"Er, no. Not really," I replied, pulling the pendant from my pocket. "We
got this made up for you. You were meant to guess from this, but..."

There were tears in her eyes. It was hard to tell whether they were of joy
or sadness. She sat and stared at me a moment longer, then looked
away. When she blinked, two fat droplets ran down her cheeks and fell into
her lap. She looked back at me, and then gently took the pendant in her
hands. She turned it over, and traced her finger along the engraved text.

"Is it really true?"

"Yes. Totally. Your mum and I dated for a while, just over a decade ago. I
had no idea that you were born, but I don't blame your mum for that. She
had her reasons, and she tells me you were happy together without me
around."

Alice shrugged.

"I wondered, sometimes. The other kids at school would talk about stuff
like that. I just didn't say anything. You know, it's really stupid, but I
daydreamed about you being my dad after you came to see us. Then mum told
me you were getting married and I thought, 'that's crazy, it's like my
dream came true'. And now you're telling me it was always true. Does this
mean I get to call you dad now?"

I laughed at her and grabbed her into a hug.

"Of course you can, sweetie," I whispered into her ear.

We left shortly after. Alice had lost her appetite for looking at animals.

---

It was only after the wedding that things started to return to normal, for
whatever value of 'normal' we were now working to. The month before the
event had been somewhat difficult: Alice had trouble adjusting to the new
reality, and Carrie and I were in a constant battle against the onrushing
deadline of the wedding. In the end, of course, it all went just fine, as
these things have a habit of doing, but it was obvious that a great deal of
time would have to be spent getting back on an even keel.

The defining change came one Saturday morning. It was late summer, turning
to autumn, and a sudden cold snap had taken us by surprise. The heating was
off, and a rather frozen Alice snuggled her way into our bed to steal our
surplus heat. I was spooned into Carrie's back, and Alice sneaked in on the
other side. When Carrie grumbled and rose to empty her bladder and make a
pot of coffee, the left Alice bereft of a heat source, and so she
gravitated toward me, wrapping my arms around her. It felt good, and
natural, and for a few minutes my thoughts remained pure as I simply
enjoyed the hug for what it was.

My treacherous libido betrayed me, though. Alice wore a nightie, and I knew
there was nothing beneath. I'd seen her sitting on the sofa in the mornings
often enough to know that. She would sit cross-legged, and with both hands
occupied with a bowl of cereal and spoon, she would unashamedly present a
view of what lay between her legs to anyone else in the room. Fortunately,
that was usually only her mother and I, and she became instantly more
decent when guests were around. As we lay in bed, though, it wasn't her
decency which was of concern, but rather the lack of it. It was no help at
all that during the night her mother and I had made love, and I'd never
quite managed to retrieve my shorts. So there was between her firm little
bottom and my hairy crotch only one thin layer of cotton.

As soon as I thought about that, I couldn't think of anything else, and the
results were inevitable. She made no move to pull away from me when she
felt my growing excitement press into the back of her thigh. Quite the
opposite, in fact - she lifted her leg, and with a little wriggle my
tumescence popped up between her warm thighs. It was wrapped in the cotton
of her nightie, but pressed quite firmly up along the length of her little
tuppence.

If she hadn't started rocking, perhaps I could have believed it was
something innocent, but it clearly wasn't. She milked thick droplets of
lubrication out of the tip, which wet the fabric of her night clothes and
made it stick to us both, and with an annoyed huff she rolled away from me
and sat up. She watched me with a strangely lustful smile as she shimmied
out of the garment and let it fall to the floor beside the bed. Without
asking, she pulled back the covers, her eyes widening at the sight of my
thickened shaft lying across my hip. She'd seen it before, but not like
that.

A little hand reached down and gingerly picked it up. She said nothing as
she gently manipulated it, rolling the skin up and down the shaft,
squeezing a drop of excitement out on to her finger and wiping it off on
the soft hair of my tummy. She looked down at her crotch, which was spread
wide open by the way she was sitting, and I could almost hear the thought
going through her mind: is it really meant to go in there?

She tired of her exploration all too soon, and lay down with her back to
me. She indicated that I should spoon her once more, and I was all too glad
to oblige. This time my over-sensitive manhood pressed into the warm, naked
skin of her backside, and with a little wriggle from her and some guidance
from me, my head popped in between her cheeks and bumped up against her
wrinkled little rosebud.

We said nothing, made no agreement. She moved her hips in a little circle,
and I worked mine back and forth, and in no time at all I was sliding
around in a damp crack, front to back. I could feel everything: the
wrinkled skin of her arsehole; the deeper, wetter, hotter depression which
marked the most sacred place; the folds of her vulva with the pea-sized
lump of her clitoris hidden within. I reached a hand around and ran it down
her tummy - revelling at the softness of her skin - then plunged it between
her thighs. With my fingers I pressed my hard shaft even more firmly into
her crotch, and she began to make the cutest little whimpering sounds when
it pushed past her engorged little bump.

I kissed her gently on the cheek, and nibbled at her ear as I pressed the
tip of my shaft backward through her damp slot, hunting for the entrance I
knew was there. I hadn't intended to take her virginity, but now in my
impassioned haze I found the idea all too alluring. I found my mark and
hunched upward a little and Alice let out a surprised squeak and hissed at
me. She reached down and slapped my hand away, and pushed my shaft
backwards out of her sex until it nestled once more in the soft valley of
her behind. Once there, she wriggled and pressed against the tip, and I
finally cottoned on - she wouldn't let me tear through her maidenhead, but
she was willing to let me in at the back.

With one arm trapped beneath her and holding her chest tightly, and the
other pressed against her tummy, I pulled her back towards me, and gently
but insistently applied pressure. The slickness I had spread through her
crack eased my way a little, but it was still so very slow - a gentle creep
forward, not the rush of bursting through her mother's weaker
resistance. She whimpered and buried her face, but her hand reached back
and grabbed my hip, pulling me into her. She wanted to feel me inside her,
wanted to know what it was like to get fucked, even if it was just in her
perfect little bottom not her oh-so-tight fanny.

I looked up to see Carrie watching us from the doorway, a wry smile on her
face. Her hand was inside her pyjamas, slowly frigging herself as I forced
my way into our daughter's behind. Then it happened - Alice's sphincter
suddenly relaxed and flared out around my head, and I was inside her. Only
a couple of inches in, but it was enough for her. She lay panting and
moaning with the effort as the muscles in her arse twitched and spasmed
around my invading manhood.

I leaned forward and kissed her.

"Are you OK, sweetie?" I asked. She clamped her eyes shut and nodded.

"It hurts so much, but I really want you to do it. Is that... is it..."

But she didn't finish the sentence. Instead she burst into tears. I slipped
out of her, deflating rapidly, and spun her over to hug her tightly to me.

"Shh, it's OK," I said. "You're allowed to want it, even if it doesn't feel
very nice."

"Does it always hurt like that?" she asked between sobs.

"No, no, not at all. It gets a lot, lot easier. Sometimes it doesn't hurt
even one tiny bit. It's a nice hurt, though, isn't it?"

She giggled, and nodded her head, wiping her eyes with the backs of her
hands.

"I felt really full. Why did you stop?"

"Because I didn't like you being in pain, sweetie."

"Didn't you want to get the good feeling and squirt, though?"

I smiled at her.

"Yeah, of course I did, but not if it meant hurting you."

"So, do you still want the good feeling?" she said, one eyebrow arched. I
didn't respond, because I could feel her hand snaking its way across my
hip, and I didn't want to do anything to put her off. Her fingers shook
slightly as she curled them around my erection, and her breath came in
short gasps; she was both nervous and excited.

"Up and down, right?" she whispered, looking into my eyes. I nodded, and
she lay her head on my shoulder, looking down at my crotch, watching her
own hand bring me pleasure. She wasn't skilled, but she was gentle, and her
tiny fingers felt more incredible than I could have imagined. She took it
slowly, watching the way my foreskin rolled back and forth over the head,
and giggling delightfully when a glassy droplet of my excitement dripped
out of the end to land softly in the hair on my lower stomach.

I was in an agony of ecstasy as she took me ever closer to the edge, but
not quite over. I started to seek ways to make it to my peak, and found my
hand drifting down to stroke slowly across the perfect hills of her
behind. It was soft and warm to the touch, and Alice let out a tiny moan of
appreciation as I gently fondled her globes. It was all the encouragement I
needed, and with a growl I fired volley after volley of semen all the way
up my torso, and even across her chest.

She jumped and laughed as it hit her, and then wrinkled her nose as she sat
up and saw it dripping down her body. Quickly she grabbed some tissues from
the bedside table and mopped herself up, dropping the box for me to take
care of my own mess.

"I think you might need a shower to clean that off!" Carrie said from the
doorway, making Alice jump.

"Mom! Sorry, I didn't... we just..." said the little girl, with fear in her
eyes. Carrie moved over to her quickly, and knelt down by the bed, taking
Alice's hands in her own.

"Sweetie, it's fine. You can do whatever you like with Zack, OK? He's your
daddy. As long as you had fun."

Alice looked down and blushed heavily.

"Yeah, I guess we did."

"Go on," Carrie said, lifting Alice onto her feet and patting her on the
bottom. "Go and take a shower."

Alice padded away naked as the day she was born, and I made a mental note
to get some blinds for the hallway. When Carrie arched her eyebrow at me,
all I could do was grin back.

"Anal?" she asked. "Well, at least it's better than the other way. I think
you might be a bit big for her in front."

"I'm a bit big for her bum, to be honest," I said, not unaware how bizarre
it was to be talking so openly about something so taboo. But Carrie just
shrugged.

"She'll soon get used to it, I reckon," she said. "You ought to make her
cum, though, when you're playing, OK?"

I took the rebuke in good humour, and kissed my wife passionately.

---

The summer I was twelve, and Carrie ten, one of our favourite things to do
was play where we might get caught. I distinctly remember sitting on the
back seat of the bus with her, while our siblings and parents occupied
various other scattered positions. The only ones near us were Marie and
Andrew, who sat together one row further forward. It was Carrie's idea to
go to the back, and it soon became apparent why - with the seat-backs
between us and discovery, she made me push my shorts and pants to my
ankles, and then proceeded to wank me as we went along. It was incredible
to sit there, basically naked in public, with Carrie's warm little hand
bringing me off.

Marie noticed fairly quickly, and span round in her seat, putting her hand
over her mouth to suppress a giggle. Andrew soon cottoned on, and they did
their best to look at what we were doing without attracting the attention
of the others. Thankfully this was a country bus, and so there was no-one
other than our families on board, and most of them were sitting well away
from us. Because I was so horny, and so keen not to let the great feeling
stop, I didn't make a fuss about my little sister or Andrew seeing Carrie
handling me.

I was treated, too, to a view of my sister she normally wouldn't allow. She
was getting older now, and no longer tended to go walk the house naked
after her bath, so it had been quite some time since I'd seen what she was
like down there. I don't know what she and Andrew got up to at night
(although I my sister did learn everything Carrie knew), but she had no
hesitation at pulling up her dress, dropping her knickers and pulling his
hand into her crotch to fondle her. I could see the slickness on Andrew's
fingers, and leaned forward over the seat to get a between view of him
fingering her little fanny, even as Carrie continued to fondle my little
spike.

I learned then that not all girls look the same between their legs. Carrie
had a prominent mound and big fat lips. I liked the way it stuck out, and
her bump at the top bulged out when she was excited. Marie was quite
different, though - thin little lips dived down between her legs, and there
was almost no bulge at all. Her bump was hidden in the folds of her sex,
but one thing was obvious: her cleft was way deeper than Carrie's because
Peter's finger was completely buried within, even before he curled the tip
back and pressed at the entrance to her hole.

Marie was wetter, too. The seats were made of some hideous fake leather,
made of plastic, and as Marie grew ever more drenched she started sliding
around on the seat when the bus cornered, which out here in the countryside
was often enough. I was astonished by this - Carrie became damp, but never
more than that. She didn't drip with excitement, and the only wet patch in
the bed came from my watery load dripping out of her after we
screwed. Marie tried to hold on, and Andrew made a valiant effort to keep
his finger in her cleft, but it was no use - with my sister unsatisfied and
somewhat disgruntled they gave up.

For me, it was already too late. My emission ran like raindrops down the
back of the seat in front.

---

That experience had taught me that all girls are different, and that
included my own daughter. Her body mimicked her mother's at the same age,
but she was far less hormonally driven. She didn't need sex in the way
Carrie had as a preteen. But one thing was certain, she was wet. Very
wet. I nipped out on Sunday morning to get some milk, and returned to find
my two girls giggling together in the shower. I wandered into the bedroom
and saw quite an astonishing sight - there, on a towel draped across the
bed was a very thin vibrator, in the middle of a truly astonishing wet
patch. It was a couple of feet wide, and glistened in the sunlight which
spilled around the edges of the curtains. I knelt by the bed and let the
aroma invade my nostrils, then leaned over and ran my tongue along the
length of the vibrator.

I knew from experience what Carrie tasted like, and it certainly wasn't
this. It could only be Alice's excitement I was sampling, and by God I
wanted more. I wanted it from source. I needed to shove my head between her
thighs and drink in her nectar, to suck it out of her little vagina, to
flick my tongue across the little bean at the top of her slit and drive her
wild, until my whole face was covered in her wetness. I envied Carrie for
having had the chance to see it flooding out of her, but at the same time I
felt my heart swell with love for them both. It took only an handful of
tugs to spill my load on top of Alice's.

I rolled up the towel and took it down to the washing machine, then
returned to the room and cleaned off the toy with a wipe, then placed it in
my wife's bedside table. By the time they emerged from their shower - their
skin flushed with heat and who knows what else - I was sitting eating my
breakfast downstairs.

---

Alice's affection was naturally biased toward her mother, but there was
something she had started to desire which she couldn't get from Carrie -
she wanted penetration, and not just with a piece of vibrating
rubber. Something in her itched for it; our failed attempt at anal hadn't
put her off one bit.

A few weeks later we found ourselves alone in the house for the evening
while Carrie caught up with some old friends she hadn't seen since before
she moved to the States. As with all of Alice's advances toward me, it was
made in silence, save for the film which continued unheeded in the
background. She was definite, not shy, but still wracked with nerves, if
her shaking hands and gasping breath were anything to go by.

It started with a hand on my stomach as she snuggled into me, with her head
on my shoulder. I could feel her warm little fingers - two on the hem of my
t-shirt and two on my bare skin where it had ridden up to reveal my
stomach. I'm by no means a rippling hunk of man flesh, but a keen interest
in swimming and cycling has always meant that I'm in reasonable shape, and
as if merely finding something for her fingers to do Alice began to trace
the outline of my abdominal muscles through my skin.

It was a gentle, teasing, playful act. If there hadn't been a history of
playing between us, I might have thought that it was entirely innocent. But
knowing what had happened between us in the past lent it a distinctly
erotic air, and as her fingers traced a little lower once in a while, I
began to feel there was more to this touch than daughterly affection. When
her fingers grazed the elasticated waist of my shorts, and even pressed a
little within, I knew the game was afoot.

Alice took her time, though. She let her slow circles drift ever downward
until her two smallest fingers passed beneath my waistband, and then
immediately reversed and worked her way up, pushing my t-shirt higher and
higher, exposing more and more flesh. All the time, she said nothing, and
showed no sign - other than her roving hand - that she wasn't entirely
absorbed in the film. I could sense this was a delicate situation - if I
said anything, or made any move of my own to participate, it would make the
situation too real for her and she would without a doubt stop. So, it was
my job to lie there and allow her to explore on her own; it was the most
exquisite form of torture imaginable.

Eventually the cycle of her delicate movements took her hand south once
more, and this time all four fingertips strayed within the confines of my
shorts. Having already changed into our nightclothes ahead of watching the
movie, that meant there was nothing now between her hand and my manhood,
save for the few centimetres further she would have to commit.

I'd been teased long enough that I was all but fully hard. It lay across my
hip, dripping with anticipation. Alice had paused for a moment, but now
pushed her hand down, taking with her the waistband of my shorts so that I
could clearly see - just as she could watch herself - her hand closing
around the middle of my shaft. I stifled a groan at the contact, aware that
I needed to maintain the pretence; this wasn't happening, not really. She
pulled it upward backhanded, then reversed her grip. As she did so her palm
passed across the very tip, taking with it a thick bead of my excitement
which she smeared down the shaft - probably unintentionally - as she
regained her grip.

She released me long enough to push at my shorts, and for the first time I
joined in the activity, risking raising my hips a fraction to make it
easier for her to push them to mid thigh. There could be no doubting what
was happening now, but I still couldn't risk it. Not yet.

Her hand on my damp shaft was a warm, wriggly little delight. She rubbed
slowly up and down, the skin passing easily over the hardness beneath. I
couldn't remember the last time I was this worked up; her teasing had had
its desired effect, and I was about ready to explode. Something astonishing
happened, though - as she carried on, I came no closer to orgasm. I was in
a state of perpetual bliss, but just when I needed to forestall the
ultimate pleasure, I somehow managed to do so.

She turned her face up to mine for the first time, and I could see a
fearful, questioning look in her eyes. I tried to reassure her with a
smile, and then thought of something far better to do the job. Lifting a
hand to the back of her head, I leaned down and placed my lips against
hers. She gave a surprised little squeak, but then melted into the kiss,
and before I knew it I was locked in an embrace with my ten year old
daughter.

My manhood was forgotten, cast aside, as her hands came to my shoulders and
her leg swung across my waist. Her nightie-clad bottom came to rest in my
lap, and her lips danced the tango against my own. This was 'making out',
as Alice might have put it in her adorable New York accent. Her hips moved
to the same rhythm as her lips, and it was becoming increasingly difficult
to maintain decorum.

In fact, I abandoned all pretence. My hands went to her back, and I pulled
upward on her nightie. She made no move to resist, as the soft, hot, damp
flesh of her juvenile vulva was exposed to the underside of my rock-hard
manhood. It was like a kiss from the most sensual lips in the world; in
fact, that's exactly what it was. I wanted to see what it looked like, so I
kept lifting, and Alice complied without hesitation, letting me take off
the only thing she was wearing and toss it aside.

I'd seen her naked before, of course, but not like this. Not with the heat
of her passion showing in the glow which spread from her neck all the way
to her puffy little nipples. And certainly not with her bare little pussy
lips wrapped around my shaft. Her hands went back to my shoulders, and her
mouth to mine, and we kissed with passion as she gyrated her hips.

I couldn't hold back my groans as the pleasure built in the tip of my
manhood. She was concentrating there, hunching her hips so that the head
slid back and forth through the well-slicked folds of her sex, insistently
battering her swollen little lump. With a squeak and a shudder she
collapsed against me, burying her face in the crook of my neck and biting
into the flesh there as her tummy spasmed uncontrollably, and her empty
little tunnel contracted painfully over and over.

She lay there for some time, occasionally shuddering. I ran my hands up and
down her back, feeling goosebumps forming where the air cooled her hot
skin. On one occasion, I let my fingertips drift a little lower, to graze
across her tailbone, and her hips moved a little of their own accord. I
took a risk and repeated the caress, with the same result. Her wetness had
thoroughly slicked my shaft, and as her cleft slid up and down the
underside again, I enjoyed the possibility that I might just flood us both
with my juices if she carried on.

She stiffened when I pushed a finger into her cleft from behind, but I was
only after the slick juices which had poured out as she came. Once my
finger was well coated, I took it out and instead applied it to her little
pucker. Her orgasm had relaxed her in all sorts of ways, and I was able to
slip easily inside, feeling the slick heat of her arsehole beyond the
elastic ring of her pucker. As I fingered her backside the motion of her
hips became ever more frantic, spreading even more lubrication along the
length of my shaft.

I thought perhaps I would come this way, with my finger in her backside and
my manhood trapped between us, but Alice had other ideas. She reached a
hand down and gently but firmly pushed my wrist away, dragging my finger
out of her bowels. The same hand then reached back and grabbed my shaft, as
Alice moved up my body a little. She held me up with her hand, and then
pushed her hips back until the tip pressed against her little arsehole. She
didn't stop there, but kept up the pressure until I oh-so-slowly slid
through her sphincter. She shuddered at the intrusion, and I could feel her
insides pulsing - whether through protest or pleasure I could not tell.

She stopped with about half of me inside, and collapsed with a little moan
onto my chest. I didn't dare move inside her, not yet, so instead I held
her and rubbed her back, and kissed the top of her head. Then she lifted
her head and surprised me by speaking or the first time since our
lovemaking had begun.

"I can't believe your dick actually feels good in my ass!" she said with a
giggle, which morphed into a groan as her overstretched muscles contracted
around my pole.

"Can I push it in and out a bit?" I asked, and she nodded uncertainly.

"Just not too far in, OK?"

I took her hips and gently slid out a little, and she instantly started
swearing.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

Then she clapped her hand over her mouth and looked at me with a terrified
expression on her face.

"It's OK," I reassured her, "you can swear as much as you like when we're
doing this."

She nodded and I resumed, this time pushing back in, which bought another
little volley of curses. As I established a little rhythm, she loosened up
back there, but each thrust into her bum still forced a "Shit!" from her.

I don't know if you've ever made a girl come from fucking her backside, but
let me tell you it's something quite unique. Her pussy will squeeze you,
press you, try force you back out, but her arse behaves altogether
differently. As her orgasm hit, Alice's bum began to suck at my shaft,
sending me straight off the edge of a cliff of pleasure. I held her hips
tightly and fired volley after volley of my seed deep into her bowels, as
she sat up and started to frantically tug at her clit. A little ejaculation
of her own fired out between her widely stretched lips, followed by another
two clear spurts. it was a first for me, seeing that, and as I closed my
eyes and felt her weight falling on my chest I stored the image in the
vaults of my mind.

We lay there slick with sweat and our combined juices until we both nodded
off.

---

That didn't exactly open the floodgates. Alice was still very shy around me
sexually, and admitted that her advances that evening were fuelled by a
little wine she'd taken while Carrie and I weren't looking. That quickly
became our little sign, and from time to time I would ask Alice if she
wanted a glass of wine with her evening meal. If she said yes, Carrie would
retire to bed early, while I and a slightly tipsy little Alice would gently
- and sometimes, at her insistence, not so gently - fuck on the sofa.

She grew used to the intrusion, so that after a few months, as her eleventh
birthday grew nearer, she could happily bounce up and down on my lap with
my shaft buried to the hilt in her bum. The river of her juices lubricated
us as it ran from her ever more excited little vagina. That was her
favourite position, with her thumb and finger tugging at her little bump,
so she could come, and make me join her in the ultimate pleasure.

For my manhood, her soft little pocket was still off limits, but as we
snuggled on the sofa watching television - on the nights when Alice
favoured me over her mother - she would let me slip a hand inside her
pyjamas, and up inside her little tunnel. It always left me unsatisfied,
but Carrie would get it good and hard on those nights, and she got off
knowing it was our daughter's hairless little fanny which had hyped me up
so much.

It was her upcoming eleventh birthday which changed all that, though. I
came down to breakfast one morning to find the girls giggling, and when I
asked what had amused them so much, I was answered only with a further
round of laughter. I ignored it as best I could, and got some toast. As I
sat down to eat, Alice came over to me, her cheeks flushed red. She could
hardly look at me, and her words came out in a mumble.

"Daddy," she said, "I've worked out what I want for my birthday."

"Oh, good, sweetie. What is it?"

"This," she replied, reaching out and grabbing my crotch. "In me."

"Well, you can have that in your bum any time you like, sweetie. Why do you
want it for your birthday?"

She shook her head emphatically.

"Not my bum. Here," she said, pointing to her open mouth, "and here."

She grabbed my hand and pushed it down the front of her pyjamas, and into
her warm, slightly damp crack.

I choked a little and looked up at Carrie, who shrugged at me.

"It's what she wants," she said, and Alice agreed with an enthusiastic
nod. I'd never been in either hole. How was I meant to refuse to give her
that for her birthday?

---

It started with an early morning snuggle with our newly-minted eleven year
old. Carrie fingered Alice to a heart stopping orgasm, while I fondled my
wife's breasts and pussy from behind. While Alice lay with her eyes closed,
panting in post-orgasmic bliss with her legs spread-eagled, Carrie grabbed
my hand out of her sex and pushed it up against our daughter's. I pressed
down through the folds and found the entrance to Alice's most private
place. Carrie's fingers had just been there, so it was slick and loose, and
it was easy to entirely sheath my middle finger in her hot little tunnel.

Alice groaned and whimpered at the sudden intrusion into her sensitive
hole, but still writhed in pleasure as I pushed it in and out. I could have
been happy making her come just like this, but several times she'd repeated
her desire to be deflowered on her birthday, and I intended to do just
that. Wanting her to be as ready as possible, I pulled back my finger and
added another, and tried to gently squeeze them into her. At first they
wouldn't go, but then oh so slowly she stretched, and I felt the tight skin
of her entrance pass over the first knuckles, and then the second, until
two adult fingers were entirely, obscenely buried in her bald little
fanny. I finger fucker her a little as I leaned down and whispered in her
ear.

"Are you ready to go all the way with Daddy, sweetie?"

I felt her hole squeeze my fingers, and she shuddered and groaned. She
shook her head, and for a moment I was bitterly disappointed. But I'd
misunderstood her.

"Not yet," she whispered. "I want to do something else first."

I pulled my fingers out of her hole, watching with delight as it gaped
open, and then felt her hand on my shoulder. She pushed me over onto my
back, and climbed on top. I'd forgotten what she said when we'd first
discussed her birthday plans, and so I thought she was preparing to have me
fill up her bum. I was wrong though, because she kissed me slowly on the
lips, then leaned down and kissed my chest, and my stomach, and then came
to rest between my legs, with my manhood in front of her face. She looked
up and me and smiled, then closed her eyes and kissed my shaft. She kissed
all up and down it with hot, wet little caresses, and then took the shaft
in her hand and looked me dead in the eye while she leaned forward and
kissed the very tip.

A string of my lubrication stretched between her lips and my manhood as she
pulled back, and her little tongue darted out to gather it in. She leaned
forward again, and this time opened her mouth as she deliberately sucked
the clear juice out of my foreskin. She sat back again, cleaning her lips
with her tongue, considering the flavour. Then she pulled the skin all the
way back and leaned in again, smooching the exposed tip.

That was it for me. The first eruption caught her nose and hair as she
pulled away. She watched the second fall uselessly back across my crotch,
and then - as if remembering something - she leaned forward and took the
head in her mouth to receive the remainder of my volcanic emission. When
the last dribbles were done, and my shaft bucked no more, she looked up at
me and with a smile swallowed my load.

When Carrie and I were little kids, before puberty hit, I would stay hard
after my first little orgasm, and it would usually take another one before
I was done for the night. Since then, like most men, I had always needed a
good long time to recharge. But as Carrie lovingly cleaned my spilled load
from my crotch with a baby wipe, and the stray shot from our daughter's
face and hair, I stayed entirely stiff. When my daughter knelt above me,
and my wife lifted my shaft up to meet her downward motion, I was more
erect than I ever remember being.

Thank God for all that fingering we'd done. Thank God Alice was such a wet
girl when she was excited. Thank God I have a very slender shaft. Thank Him
for all those things, because as Alice's lips kissed the tip of my penis,
and then wrapped themselves around it, I pressed upwards, and with little
fuss squeezed my way into my daughter's hot little tunnel. Of course she
was tight. Of course I had to push through the resisting muscles of her
juvenile sex, but with her eyes clenched and biting her bottom lip, Alice
lowered herself until she had no more to give. Only an inch remained
unabsorbed, but inside her I was pressed right up against the mouth of her
cervix.

Her breasts had swollen lately, and her hips flared ever so slightly, and
there was the faintest hint of hair on her pubis, so perhaps she was
becoming a woman already. Maybe that's why it was possible to enter her,
and perhaps that's why she showed signs of pleasure, too. But perhaps it
wasn't easy enough, or sufficiently pleasurable, because when my shaft
flexed inside her she gasped and whimpered, and fell forward, beating my
chest with her fist as her overstuffed vagina clenched hard around my
shaft. I pulled out a little and pushed in, and she made a gurgling sound,
collapsing completely on top of me, her fingers grasping the sheets either
side.

I hadn't expected it to be this dramatic, but Alice was in too much pain. I
couldn't let it go on - she was twitching and gasping for breath, and
Carrie looked on with a worried expression. I slipped out of her and pushed
her onto her back, diving between her legs to lovingly lap at her damaged
little sex, trying to heal the pain. She writhed and moaned, and the
pleasure overtook the hurt, until she gently shook with the force of a
soft, rolling orgasm. I jumped up onto my knees, pushed just the very tip
of my manhood into her dilating hole and filled her with every drop of
semen I could muster.

Afterwards, she snuggled into my side and cried silently.

"I so wanted it to work," she whispered in my ear.

As it happened, we never tried again, because someone came into Alice's
life who changed everything.

---

We lay together on the sofa, with a blanket over us. The nights were
drawing in, and we snuggled for warmth as we watched some stereotypical
Disney movie or something. Honestly, I wasn't paying attention. Carrie was
out, and I was feeling horny, and lying with my arms around Alice as she
texted her friends and checked Facebook over and over again led to my mind
wandering, and my fingers, too. I pulled up her t-shirt and let my
fingertips dance across the soft, warm skin of her tummy. She gave an
appreciative moan, and snuggled back into me.

I was distracted by a different message tone on her phone. She opened a new
app, and a picture of a young boy her age appeared on the screen, pulling
some terrible selfie face and with a haircut straight out of One
Direction. A banner across the message said "hey sexie". I had to hold back
two emotions: who the hell was this little shit, and why couldn't he spell,
or for that matter use grammar?

I tried to be as casual as I could, enquiring about the boy, but apparently
I wasn't subtle enough.

"Oh my God, dad!" Alice fumed at me. "He's just a boy from school. He's
called Jason, OK?"

She got up and moved to the other sofa, taking the blanket with her. Cold
and a little confused, I got up and made myself a cup of tea. By the time I
returned to the living room, Alice was in full narcissist mode, snapping
duck-faced selfies from all angles, and even sending the boy a picture of
her bare midriff.

"Careful, sweetheart," I cautioned. "He'll think you want to do it with
him."

"Shut up!" she said with a giggle. "He won't think that, dad. Seriously, he
doesn't even look at me like that."

But when the message tone went again and I saw Alice's shocked and amused
face, I knew I'd hit the nail on the head. I stole a peek over her shoulder
and nearly spat my tea across the room. There, on the screen, was the boy's
hairless dick, standing straight up, with a caption that read "all yours
bb". Either he was a pretty lucky lad, or it was a well posed photograph,
because he looked to be way bigger than I was at that age. In fact, if it
was a fair reflection of his size, he was probably the biggest boy in his
year. I was impressed, and somewhat turned on. That was new - I'd never
looked at boys that way before, but there was something about the
flawlessness of his hairless crotch which triggered a long forgotten
memory. I filed that away for later and returned to the moment. A little
counter on the screen reached zero, and the picture vanished.

Alice was sitting there slightly stunned, with both a smile and a blush on
her face.

"Don't you even think about it," I said, as I saw her hand moving toward
the hem of her t-shirt. I knew there wasn't a training bra beneath, and I
also knew what she was about to send the boy.

"What?"

"You're not sending him a picture of your breasts, Alice."

"Why not?"

"Because he'll show the picture to all his friends and you'll get the sort
of reputation you don't want. We've talked about this sort of thing before,
haven't we?"

Alice looked glum. "The pictures get deleted really quick," she
said. "Can't I send him just one?"

I shook my head. "Not a chance, sweetie."

"He does want to have sex with me though," she said, a little happiness
returning to her voice. "He's, like, the hottest boy in the year. Well, I
think so anyway."

"Please tell me you're not thinking about doing it with him," I said.

Alice shot me a look.

"What's wrong, dad. You jealous?"

I sat speechless for a moment, not quite sure how to respond. I just hadn't
looked at it like that. Having our incestuous little affair seemed totally
different in my mind to Alice going out and getting it on with her
classmates. They were far too young to be having sex! Except, of course, I
knew quite differently. Carrie and I had started when she was only eight
years old, and I ten. That wasn't normal, but it was mutually desired, and
we both knew what we were doing. This kid Jason wasn't too young to be
having sex with Alice, and from my experience I knew she could take it and
enjoy it. It just seemed wrong, though.

I looked at Alice, staring at me accusingly. There was so much of the young
Carrie in her, and why not? As a kid, my wife had been the most headstrong
person I knew, and our daughter seemed to have inherited more than a little
bit of the same attitude to the world.

"Let me talk to your mother, OK?"

She looked at me in confusion.

"You're going to let me?"

"I didn't say that, sweetie. I said I'm going to talk it over with your
mum. I want to know what she thinks. What you say about you and I doing it
is true. It's a good argument. I'm just worried about a couple of things,
OK? Just let us talk about it first. Will you promise to do as we ask, no
matter what the answer?"

She nodded, with a big grin. She was certain that we would give in.

---

"You want to what?!"

"I want to meet the boy. Get to know him. See if he's a good lad."

"And then what?" Carrie asked. "Tell him to go upstairs and fuck her?"

I shrugged.

"I can hardly tell her she shouldn't be having sex at her age, can I? And
you're in no better position than I am. You've been playing with her for
years. You can't just expect her to ignore her desires now that you've
awoken them."

Carrie sighed, looking deflated.

"It was never a conscious thing, though, Zack. I never set out to make her
a sexual creature. It just happened. It's not as though she was unaware of
the feelings she could get between her legs. She used to hump her teddy
into submission every night. That's how I first became interested in
her. The way that thing smelled - oh my God, Zack, it reminded me of the
smell in my bed when I was little."

"I remember that, too," I said with a laugh. "Look, I know it's pretty
unusual for parents to just agree for their daughter to sleep with someone,
especially when the kids are only eleven, but there's plenty about our
current situation which isn't normal. If we invite Jason over and we don't
like him we'll send him packing. But if he's alright, then we let him stay
over and let things take their course. Maybe Alice will change her mind
anyway."

Carrie stared at me. "Do you really think that's going to happen?"

---

"Thanks, Mr McNaught," Jason said as I showed him in.

"Alice is upstairs in her room. Turn back on yourself at the top of the
stairs. Her room's at the end of the hallway. You can't miss it."

He nodded and scampered off upstairs. I was reminded how young the boy was
- he was dressed very smartly, but he still had Batman socks on. He hadn't
started to shoot up in height either - he was about four or five inches
shorter than Alice. Jesus, what was I doing letting a little boy into my
house to have sex with my preteen daughter?

I wandered into the kitchen, where Carrie was standing.

"I know what you're thinking," I said, seeing the look of shock on her
face. "I'm pretty sure that can't have been his dick on the picture I saw,
or those skinny jeans he was wearing would have crushed the bloody thing."

"How big did you think it looked?"

"I don't know. About five inches I suppose."

"There is no way that skinny little boy has a five inch dick, Zack."

"Well, there's one worry out the way, isn't there?" I said. "She won't get
hurt by it."

Carrie sighed and shook her head despairingly.

---

We called them down for dinner half an hour later. I didn't want to go
upstairs and disturb them, not because I didn't want to see what they were
up to (in fact, I really did want to see that bit), but rather because I
knew Alice wouldn't forgive me for intruding.

They came down with rather flushed faces, and my more mature eye could
quite clearly spot the lump of boy flesh pressing up against Jason's fly
from the inside. It wasn't the monster from the picture, but it wasn't that
easily hidden either. Whatever they'd been doing they must've kept their
clothes on, given the speed with which they came downstairs. I glanced over
at Alice and saw a little drool at the corner of her mouth. Had they been
kissing, or was her mouth watering for another reason?

Over dinner I tried to engage Jason about his life, but it was clear he was
a bit shy. Not so shy that he wouldn't send a picture of his (or, more
probably, someone else's) not so little boy toy to her, I thought. Too
nervous to answer my questions, anyway. Almost as soon as the food was
gone, Alice was dragging him back upstairs and into her room, for who knows
what purpose.

Well, I had an idea, at least. It would be an hour or so before his mum was
coming back for him, and I wondered what Alice and he might get up to in
that time. Then an idea struck me - I didn't have to wonder, and I didn't
have to ask them to find out.

"Carrie, sweetheart," I said, walking up behind her and putting my arms
around her waist, nuzzling my nose into her neck.

"What?" she said with a giggle as I tickled her.

"Do you remember when you and Alice first moved in here, we tried to fit
some of your stuff into the loft, and couldn't because most of it isn't
boarded?"

"Uh, yes, I suppose. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, above Alice's room there in't even any insulation down, 'cause we
needed to get to the top of that light fitting to repair it. I never put
the stuff back."

"And?"

"Well, aren't you interested to know what Alice and Jason are getting up
to? Doesn't it make you just a little bit horny?"

I felt her pressing her bum back into my crotch, rubbing it back and forth
across the hardness there.

"No, not at all..." she lied, and then groaned when I slid my hands up and
pinched her stiff nipples.

"Well, it does me. I'm going up through the hatch in our room and having a
look through that little hole where we had to drill through the ceiling. If
you change your mind, you know where I am."

She sighed and followed me anyway, despite her protestations that I had no
right to spy on my daughter.

Alice's door was, as expected, closed when we went upstairs. As soon as we
were in the loft, it was easy to spy our target - with the light off, a
shaft of light speared up through the gloom from the hole in Alice's
bedroom ceiling. It wasn't a very big hole, but it would be large enough
for us to see everything going on below. Carrie hung back and let me go
first.

The sight which greeted me through the gap was at once reassuring and quite
a massive turn on. Their clothes remained intact, but they lay on Alice's
bed with Jason on top, grinding away between her legs. His little bum
looked fantastic as he flexed his hips, framed as it was in his skinny
jeans. What a sight! They were kissing quite passionately, too. This was a
hedonistic little tryst, fuelled by youthful enthusiasm and emerging
hormones. Alice's hands went to the boy's backside and pulled him harder
against her, and I could recognise in her the signs of impending orgasm.

I beckoned my wife over, and when she peered down through the minute
opening I heard her stifle a gasp. She watched for a few moments, then got
up and whispered in my ear,

"That's so cute!"

"I know! And quite sexy!" I whispered back.

Carrie nodded and returned her attention to the scene below. I heard
muffled squeaks from beneath, and a moment later Carrie sat up again with a
grin on her face.

"He finished, but she didn't," she said, trying not to laugh. "So bloody
typical!"

"Is he going to do anything about it?"

She looked again.

"She's talking to him. I can't quite make it out, though. She's being very
quiet."

Carrie went back to her spying, and I could see a hand sneak down and
across the crotch of her jeans. She stayed there a while longer, then sat
up. As she leaned in to whisper in my ear, I could feel the heat radiating
off her.

"She's got him fingering her," she said, panting slightly. "But only with
his hand down the front of her pants. She hasn't taken them off."

As desperately as I wanted to watch myself, I let Carrie enjoy the scene,
and instead imagined what it would be like below. Carrie moved around so
that her bum was in the air, and pushed down her jeans to mid
thigh. Whether it was an invitation or simply to allow her own fingers
better access, I didn't care. I knew I needed something, and without
hesitation I got up on my knees, pulled down my own trousers, and pushed
myself into her simmering hot quim.

This time Carrie couldn't stop herself groaning, and I hoped she hadn't
alerted Alice to our presence. On our knees in the dark, I took her ever so
gently as she frigged herself and watched our daughter's boyfriend bring
her to her own gentle peak. I heard a stifled, high-pitched groan from
below, and at the same moment felt my wife's tunnel clamp down hard around
my shaft as the eroticism of watching our daughter reach nirvana took her
over the edge. It was truly a family affair, as the intense pressure around
my manhood sent my seed boiling from its tip and straight into Carrie's
womb.

"We are definitely letting that boy come back to play again," Carrie said
with a lascivious grin when we were down out of the loft in the safety of
our room.

---

Alice's relationship with Jason became a bit of an obsession for her over
the coming weeks, as you would expect for a girl of her age. The intensity
of youthful love is quite astonishing for an adult to observe. Alice would
receive about a hundred texts from the boy every day, or so it seemed. No
small number of pictures, too. She became coy about the relationship, even
despite her mother's clear diktat that we should be kept informed of
everything, since we were her parents and had explicitly blessed her union
with the boy.

That didn't mean we missed everything, though. One day Alice was out of the
room when her phone buzzed. I looked at Carrie, who nodded with a grin, and
quick as a flash I scooped it up and opened the message which had arrived.

It was a text, so wasn't about to disappear on me. And it was a picture,
and this time I knew Jason was being honest, because his face was in the
picture, and in the background on the television was the very same football
match I was currently watching. And he was absolutely stark bollock naked,
with a three inch erection much more appropriate to his age. It was a very
pretty little spike of boyish flesh, arrow straight and blessed with a
lengthy foreskin which for some reason I really wanted to nibble. This boy
was bringing out all sorts of feelings in me I'd never before
entertained. Beneath the message was a one word question - 'Skype?'

I just managed to get the phone back to where it was before Alice came
back, and luckily it buzzed a couple more times even as she was sitting
down, so she probably wouldn't notice I'd already read the one from
Jason. I watched her face for any signs as she read the text, but apart
from a slightly raised eyebrow she gave no sign of being surprised.

Carrie and I shared a giggle when Alice excused herself a few minutes
later, ostensibly to take a shower. It wasn't impossible to know for sure
what she got up to in there - other than showering, of course - but it
wasn't terribly difficult to guess. She locked herself away in her bedroom
after that, and as tempted as I was to go and have a peek from above, I
left her and her boy to it.

---

Jason became a fixture at our house, too. I got the feeling his parents
were a little less liberal about leaving the two of them alone together, so
they preferred to spend time at ours. Or out and about, for that matter. I
gave them a lift to the cinema one day, only to discover they were on a
double date with another young couple from their year at school - so very
grown up for kids their age!

When Jason came around, the two of them would disappear into their room for
hours on end. Alice would glare at me if I even so much as suggested she
tell me what they got up to, and it seemed Carrie and I had been played
somewhat. I occasionally took to peeping on them through the ceiling, but
amazingly, more often than not there was nothing sexual going
on. Eventually I tired of my perverted little habit, and left them to it,
whatever that may be.

It was about two months later, though, that Alice finally made that last
step with Jason, and for once we knew all about it. She came to us one day
with a hopeful look on her face, and finally plucked up the courage to
speak.

"Mum, Dad, I want to ask you something. Please don't flip out, OK?"

She still held on to a couple of little Americanisms like that, which I
found endlessly adorable.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Carrie asked.

"Um, this Friday. Could Jason... could he stay over? And," she continued,
rushing now to submit her whole request, "could you two go out for, like,
the whole evening and not come back until really late?"

I stared at Carrie, wondering what her response would be.

"I think you better leave us to talk it over," I said, when it was clear
that Carrie was unable to answer. Alice bolted from the room, thankful for
the excuse to leave now she'd got the question-asking part out of the way.

"I suppose I knew it was going to come to this one of these days," Carrie
said quietly after she'd gone.

"Do you think... ?"

"Of course they're going to do it, Zack! You're so dense sometimes."

"She might just be planning a romantic evening and not want us around."

Carrie gave me a withering look.

"No, she wants to fuck him. I suppose I should be a bit surprised it took
her this long to get around to it, especially after all that stuff you and
she did."

I stared at her in surprise.

"That's a bit unfair, isn't it? I don't think her libido is entirely my
fault."

"Sorry, you're right," she said. "It's just now that she's wanting to do it
with someone who isn't you, it doesn't seem right any more. I guess I
understood her attraction to you. It seemed... natural, maybe? But this
Jason boy. I mean, we hardly know him!"

"Sweetie, he's been around here three times a week for three months. He's
practically family."

And so that was that. They were too young to be left alone without a
babysitter, really, but we wanted to respect Alice's maturity, and so we
made plans for the evening, and nervously awaited Friday night.

---

If we were nervous, it was nothing compared to what Alice was going
through. When she and I had fooled around, everything was
spontaneous. Since Jason had come into her life to satisfy her needs, she
had only come to me once, needing to feel me filling up her backside. Other
than that, she had been faithful to him, and had shut me out of her sex
life. For her, having intercourse with Jason was something entirely new,
and waiting all week for it to happen was torture. Though she hadn't ever
confirmed what she had planned, we could see she had the jitters from about
Wednesday morning onward.

There was pure fear in the boy's eyes when I answered the door on Friday
night. He mumbled out a 'hi', and shot past me. I was under strict
instructions, though, and collared him before he ran upstairs.

"Wait in there," I said, pointing to the living room. With the walk of the
condemned, he trooped in and sat down. It made me wonder what Alice had
told him was happening.

I left him there sitting on his hands, looking nervous, and went to finish
my own preparations for the evening. Carrie and I had reservations at a
rather nice restaurant, and I wanted to actually be smart for once, so I
had a shirt to iron. I was in the kitchen doing just that when I heard
Alice come downstairs and saw her walk into the room.

I choked back a gasp. She was dressed in an evening dress I don't recall
having seen before, but which fit her perfectly. Her hair was done up,
too. She was barefoot, but that just seemed to fit. She stood in front of
Jason and reached out a hand to him. He took it and she lifted him to his
feet. She was totally in charge!

She moved closer, and ignoring the fact that I was standing not ten feet
away, put her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. Caught up in the
moment, he kissed her back, and let his hands wander down to cup her
backside. When she broke the kiss, Jason suddenly seemed to remember
himself, and his hands flew away from her bottom. Alice looked my way and
giggled, then took Jason by the hand and led him upstairs.

Carrie and I left for our meal about a quarter of an hour later, and
returned somewhere about eleven. The house was quiet, the front door
locked. There were signs of a disturbance in the living room, and the
unmistakeable odour of Alice's excitement in the air. Carrie and I shared
an amused glance, and then retired to bed. On the way I noticed that
Alice's door was ajar; there was darkness beyond, and two gentle snores.

---

At breakfast the next morning, both kids were sheepish. Jason refused to
meet my eye, and Alice kept blushing whenever I spoke to her, so in the end
I left them at the breakfast bar and went for a shower. By the time I had
showered and dressed, Jason had left, and Carrie and Alice were in
conference in her room.

Alice herself left a short while later to go to her swimming practise just
around the corner, which left Carrie and I alone.

"Is she alright?" I asked, to which my wife replied with a smile and a
blush of her own. I groaned and she gave a little laugh.

"She told me everything," she said. "And she told me I could tell you if
you would want to hear it. Do you?"

"Oh God, yes!"

Carrie giggled, and then recounted what she had been told.

"After we went out, they came downstairs and Alice got them both some
wine. Jason had never had any before, so he got a little bit drunk. Alice
said it just made her a bit less nervous. Then she made him stand in the
middle of the room, and she danced around him doing a striptease, until she
was completely naked and rubbing up and down against him. Then she knelt
down and pulled his pants down, and started sucking him. She said she'd
never done that for him before, and he nearly fell over! She told me his
fit her mouth nicer than yours, but because he doesn't shoot yet she didn't
bother making him get there in her mouth, 'cause there wouldn't be any
juice to swallow!

"Then she pushed him over onto the sofa, and took his pants right off, and
then his shirt. Then she got two of her long socks and used one to
blindfold him and the other to tie his hands together behind his back."

"Jesus! Where the hell did she learn that?" I asked.

"Apparently she borrowed one of my more... interesting novels."

I laughed and shook my head, amazed at the lengths to which my little girl
would go.

"Then she teased him," Carrie went on. "Seriously, teased him for, like,
half an hour. Told him not to move and left him there until he went soft,
then went over and made him hard again, and then did it all again. She said
he was whimpering by the end, pleading with her to let him go.

"Then she sucked him again until he was almost there, and then climbed up
and sat down on his dick. She said it went in really easy, and felt like
your fat middle finger. Apparently he lost it really quick and came
straight away, but he was still stiff afterwards, so she bounced up and
down on his lap until she got off, then climbed down and sucked him until
he had another one. She said the thing that really made him get there was
she stuck her finger in her hole and then put it up his bum.

"Then, later he got hard again when they were messing around, and she made
him stick it up her bum doggy-style while she used my vibrator between her
legs. She said that was the best because he went in further and kept going
for ages. Then they did it with him on top this morning, but she didn't cum
this time, just him. She said that was the worst way of doing it!"

I was forced to laugh again at my daughter's honesty.

"Well," I said, with a wry smile. "I guess my little girl's a woman now.
All grown up."

"Not quite," Carrie said with a laugh. "But anyway, even when she's all
grown, there's always this."

She grabbed my hand and pulled it to her tummy. It felt firmer and rounder
than usual.

"What?" I asked, always the slowest to catch on. She gave me a bright smile
with a twinkle in her eyes. Then it dawned on me.

"Oh, shit!"