INTRODUCTION

copyright: This work is released under the Creative Commons Attribution Only (CC BY) License. You can copy it, paste it, change it, try and get some other fool to pay you money for it. I don't care. Just acknowledge my original authorship and if you change anything, be upfront about the fact that you changed it. If that ain't a square deal, I'll kiss your ass.

Story codes: mdom, male dominant, incest, inc, true-ish, bdsm, grooming, spanking, mmf and mff. I'll go ahead and add extreme. I'm sure there's more, but that should be enough to get the story into the search results of the people who would appreciate it most.

This is not a true story. Got it? The story code says it's true-ish. You're going to make a value judgment rather quickly as to whether it's true or not. But if it eases the mind of worried little do-gooders out there in Outrage Nation, permit me to offer you a gift. Here it is: "Not true."� Kay? Spare me your self-righteous emails. True-ish. This is not a fantasy. This is not a porno with a hot girl wearing makeup and a randy pizza delivery man. This is a documentary. This is a reality show. This is ugly and real and -- like life -- it can be a rather brutal slog at times.

This story doesn't feature a nine year old girl talking like a porn princess and begging for sex like a depraved meth whore. It doesn't feature a fifteen year old cheerleader taking on the entire high school football team. There's no freak-of-nature stud who can come six times in a row without so much as a moment of recharging.

Unfortunately, like many of the stories you find in an incest newsgroup, it does contain the cliche of the absentee mother. My wife, Dani's mom, died of bacterial complications from a very routine surgery. They were taking a non-malignant cyst out of her thigh for the second time in two years. The hospital had a super strep bug somewhere in the operating room. The suddenness shocked everyone. It sucks. I loved her. I still miss her.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I sat down to write out some tips on how a guy can (and did) effectively groom his own daughter for sex and stay out of jail. It turned out that the story of how I came to learn what I know about grooming girls was more complicated than I first realized. My grooming tips are nothing without my credibility. My credibility presents itself in a sprawling, novel length account. This story is looong. Loooooong. Before you invest a lot of time in a detailed account of how I turned my daughter into a sex toy when all you were looking for was a ridiculous and improbable jerk story, one of those with the nine-ten-eleven year old trollop begging her father to "Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck me with that big throbbing cock!"�.... Uh... Fair warning. This is not the story for you.

Srsly. You could read three Vonnegut novels in the same amount of time you waste reading this. You can read everything J.D. Salinger ever published. You could read half the introduction to a David Foster Wallace novel. Go. Invest your hours more productively. Don't say I didn't warn you.

When the sex scenes finally unfold, you aren't going to get the usual comic book Manga pedo sex. Some young girls like sex and some don't. It takes the right girl, the right petri dish home environment, and a lot of properly-paced grooming. Most of that grooming is tedious, and not sexy at all, to be honest.

Sure, you can train a young girl to recite scripted lines, but you also have to maintain some shred of paternal life with that same girl the other twenty-two hours of the day when your dick isn't hard. This is a rare true incest story, told without (much) varnish, and wrapped up with a happy ending. So far. So far. That's the thing about raping your daughter. You can't unrape her. There's a point where the power shifts from "Daddy's little obedient girl"� to "Vindictive middle-age bitch with issues."� It will never really be over until I'm dead or she is.

But before we get to the happy ending, we have to go back to the start. The unhappy start.

Chapter 2 - Caryn Part One

I met Caryn my freshmen year in college. I had my own parental issues and had divorced my mom and dad at the end of my freshman year. I was living on student loans and rinky-dink scholarships as I struggled to get my diploma in electrical engineering at a state school in the Midwest. I was broke and living week-to-week on whatever scratch came in from my job as a dishwasher at a Chinese restaurant. I dormed with a Texan named Cliff my freshman and sophomore years. Great guy. Funny as hell.

Caryn met Cliff at a mixer during the first week of college and was immediately smitten by his easy charm and confident southern swagger. Caryn was trying to escape life on an Arkansas hog farm. She wasn't much of a student, but she was a helluva looker. At eighteen, her body was absolutely mouthwatering. Big 38C titties that bounced up and down when she walked and perpetually hard nips that were always poking through her blouse and staring right back at the boys. Oh, and that Kardashian ass exploding from her wasp waist. (A bit of an anachronism, I know. Kim wasn't even born in 1988.) I'm kind of a sucker for tiny girls with elegant little hands, the kind that make your cock look twice as big. Caryn had those. She also had a matching set of perfect size five feet that looked so small I kidded her that she could buy her shoes in the Barbie aisle of Toys-R-Us.

She was five foot one in bare feet and two hundred and twelve degrees in a pair of high heels.

I guess it's tradition to describe a woman foremost by her hair color and shape. Caryn had hair. Caryn had hideous hair. It was a bad mix of mouseshit brunette and brass red. Because she was poor, her mother had been the one to cut Caryn's hair and then try and disguise her crime against humanity with a spiral curly home perm. The color. The cut. Absolute disaster.

Caryn had high cheekbones and full lips, neither of which ever saw a spot of makeup until later in life. Her complexion was clear, but milky and blue and freckled with the unsexy kind of freckles. She may have come from farm stock, but she didn't have the farmer's tan.

It's a testament to my poor writing skills to use a "celebrity"� to fine tune you into Caryn's appearance, but there is a tiny blonde porn knockout currently working (2011) named Lexi Belle. Before Lexi was a blond studio product (who refuses to swallow or take it up the ass, grumble grumble), she was a homely brunette and she did some raunchy amateur work under the name "Nawli."� I think Lexi grew up near New Orleans.�Anyway, being as you are going to be locked into Caryn's sex life on and off for the next 70 thousand words, if you care, Caryn looked EXACTLY like early Lexi Belle. Same height. Same small feet. Same eyes. Same blothchy pale skin. Same mouth. Same slightly too big teeth. Identical ear shapes. Hair same bad color. Caryn had a smaller nose and bushier eyebrows. Much bigger tits and a rounder ass, too. And of course, Caryn had frizzy, messy hair.

I'm not even sure if this will work or if the newsgroups strip out links, but below I'm adding a URL. This is not spam. Just in case you're interested. Early Lexi and Caryn could have been fraternal twins where Caryn got all the boobs.

http://www.xvideos.com/video253744/lexi_belle_-_early_bukkake

The end result was that the boys in our dorm had plenty to say about Caryn's delicious frame, but nobody wanted to deal with the unevenness of the girl above her neck. This includes the part between her ears. She was a sweet enough girl, but a meek lack of confidence hung about her like a fog. Her self conscious skittishness left her with a certain paralysis in conversation. She was the definition of awkward. She certainly didn't project intelligence.

Caryn set her sights on Cliff, headed for law school and a bright future. If she had her way, Caryn probably would have been a happy wife. At least for a little while. Cliff dropped dead of a heart defect a little after his 30th birthday.

Caryn and I had crossed paths dozens of times at campus functions. She would walk by our dorm room and if the door was open she'd walk in looking to sit around next to Cliff and not talk. In retrospect it was creepy and weird. At the time Cliff and I didn't think much of it beyond the normal ration of guy teasing. "Just fuck her,"� I'd tell him, "Give'r the big leg and send her on her way."�

"Dude,"� Cliff said, "If I fuck her, I'll never get to take a dump again without that needy bitch sitting on my lap."�

Cliff was a wise man, as I'd soon find out.

Sophomore year. October Night. Bonfire. Cliff was trying to make time with an Amazon redhead who worked part time at the library. Caryn was following Cliff around the fire like an uninvited puppy. Cliff made eye contact with me across the dark expanse, widened his fire-illuminated eyes, and twitched his head impatiently toward Caryn twice. The signal was clear. "Get this girl off me."� Roger that, Charlie Lima Foxtrot. Air support with ECMs on your mark. Wingman in position.

"Hey Caryn."� Three beers into the autumn eve and no bonfire date of my own, I had nothing but a surplus of game.

"Skip."�

I slid my hand under her elbow and smoothly pulled her away from the bonfire and toward the barrel of hard cider one of the frat houses had brewed up for the occasion. "C'mon. There's finally a break in the line over at the moonshine speakeasy. We gotta try this stuff."�

She looked over her shoulder at Cliff talking to Red Sonja as I stepped her away. She resisted for a moment and then relented.

After we cupped out a pair of plastic Solos filled with a pungent piss of alcohol and apple juice, I stared up at the brilliantly crisp fall sky. "Orion,"� I pointed upwards.

Caryn sighed. "He really likes her, doesn't he?"� Her eyes remained locked on Cliff making time with the redhead.

"Who, Cliff? Ehn. I wouldn't worry about it,"� I said. "As fickle as Cliff is, he's on to greener pastures tomorrow."�

"No, he really likes her. I've seen him talking to her at the library. I can tell by the way he leans toward her when he talks that it's serious. It wasn't that way with Barb or Shelly. But there's something about this girl that makes his eyes sparkle."�

We stood in the awkward boiler room glow of the outer circle of the bonfire. Squiggling tongues of orange and ash licked a pattern over her cheap flannel farmers jacket. Caryn stabbed at the silence with her own answer. "Fuck,"� she spat. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."�

After a moment the water works started and she began to sniffle and hitch. "Oh God, I'm such a pathetic idiot."� Caryn covered her gaping mouth with her tiny hand.

"Oh boy,"� I whispered. For whatever illogical reason, I felt responsible for the situation. It was awkward and getting more awkward by the moment. "Hey..."� I stammered, concerned.

"I'm sorry,"� she began to sob. "I'm so embarrassed. People are looking at me."�

"Walk with me,"� I said. I took her hand and walked away from the bonfire. I walked her toward the path in the town park that leads through a thicket of trees and to the local side of the cliffs framing the Mississippi River. We didn't have a flashlight, but the moon was bright enough to keep us on the path. Barges pumped upstream and another glided downstream, the searchlights in the high wheelhouses of the tugs spun to map the boundaries of the river and find the navigational buoys. The upstream tug spun a beam that locked on Caryn and me like Michigan J. Frog in the spotlight. Perv was probably looking for naked co-eds. Brilliant. Instead the poor bastard threw a spotlight on the third act of Steel Magnolias, Caryn's face contorted and twisted in suffering as she bawled in earnest.

For no good reason I threw my drink into the river and tried to wrap my arms around her tiny frame to comfort her. She relented and leaned into me, blubbering snot and tears into the open V of my unzipped Members Only jacket. My right hand tried to ease comfort from her back while my left hand tangled in that awful, frizzy, witch hair of hers. After a time she began hugging back and her sobs subsided. I sat on the cold whitestone that framed the top of the cliff, my legs dangled over the edge. Caryn tried to sit next to me but complained the ground was freezing.

I scooted back so only my ankles and feet were over the cliff's edge. "Sit on my lap then."� Caryn did. I could barely feel her weight. I had always known she was poor, more poor than I, if that was possible. For the first time I found myself wondering if she was eating at all. A bucket of popcorn weighed less.

When you are in college, it doesn't take much to go from Stranger to Lover. I held her until she stopped crying. I kissed little pecks on her forehead. We made small talk. I walked her back to her dorm room. Her roommate had gone home for the weekend. Caryn invited me in. After that, there was no pretext at all. I wanted to see those enormous tits unwrapped. I eased her back on the bed and pushed my tongue in her mouth. She offered no resistance as I unbuttoned and peeled her shirt off. Caryn's bra was old lace, worn thin. I was shocked by the luminescence of the pink of Caryn's nipples glowing through the fabric. The saliva in my mouth began to gush. I jerked that bra off her big melons with such impatience I heard it give a wet rip. Her aureoles were small and her nipples were long and tantalizing. And oh my God. They were so pink they were electric. My mouth closed hard on her right tit and my teeth latched tight and cruel.

Caryn yelped and bucked. Her hands came to my face and I grabbed her wrists and yanked them down and pinned them against the mattress. Then I bit the left tit with authority, chewing and pulling the textured nip with hungry fervor. When her hands stopped resisting I was able to start peeling her jeans off and down to her knees. There were no panties left behind and none clinging to the inside of her jeans. The waft of Caryn's pussy was a fragrant candle of soap and sex; heady and primal. My hand slipped down her flat stomach, through an unkempt tangle of jungle pubes, and dipped my fingertips into the puddle of sopping soft folds. Her pussy was the wettest cleft I'd fingered in my short career as a Lothario. Caryn's eyes fluttered upward. I fished for her labia, but all my fingertips could find was a clit the size of a 25� gumball. As my fingers traced a map around the long circumference, Caryn thrashed like a landed trout. Her throat noises were guttural. I bit hard again on a tit and she arched and flooded my hand with a squirting orgasm.

"That was quick,"� I said. I smirked and leaned into her panting mouth. I kissed her in a manner that was half biting nips on her slack bottom lip, and half kiss pecks.

"That was awesome,"� she panted. She kicked the tangled knot of her jeans off her feet and onto the carpet.

"I didn't think squirters really existed outside the Penthouse letters column,"� I said.

Caryn blushed. "I'm sorry,"� she said. "Does that gross you out? I only do that when I come really hard."�

"No problem,"� I said. "Kinda cool, actually."� I licked my dripping fingers. the juice was flavored with a tiny tang of cunt, but it was mostly tasteless.

Caryn fumbled at my belt. I had no patience. I had my 501s peeled and shucked in seconds. I flopped back on the bed and pushed Caryn's reluctant head down toward my twitching cock. Then I noticed she wasn't just resisting. She was pushing back up against my hand.

"Suck,"� I said. I wasn't barking, just direct.

"I'm... I'm not very good at that,"� She pushed up and tried to stand/kneel on the bed beside me.

"Suck,"� I said again. I grabbed at the back of her hair and pushed her face at my cock once more. This time I pushed down until the wet of her mouth warmed the top half of my cock. Caryn was right. She wasn't very good at sucking cock. Her teeth scraped the sides of my cock and I winced.

"Sorry,"� she said, "it's big."�

My cock wasn't big. It was a little above average. More than seven inches. Maybe eight. Maybe nine, I dunno. I didn't need cheap flattery, I needed my cock sucked, so I pushed her head down until the tip of my cock pressed into her throat. She gagged and pulled away harder than I could push to keep her down.

"Sorry,"� she said again, coughing. "You have a beautiful cock. What you said about squirters? That you didn't believe they exist? I've seen pictures of purple cockheads, but I've never actually seen one in person before."�

"It's not really purple,"� I said. "It's red."�

"No, it's purple alright. Eggplant."�

I examined my cock. She was right. If my cock stays really hard for a long time, the natural red blush of my cock tip can take on a purplish hue. Usually that comes as a result of a good half hour of steady rockhard. That night the purple was running ahead of schedule. There was something about Caryn's meekness and her inexperience and all her squeaky little "Sorrys"� that was flipping a deeply animal switch in my brain. I had never been as rough with another first date as I was with Caryn.

"C'mon,"� I goaded. "Show me something. Suck me."�

Caryn looked into my eyes and then back at my cock. "Can you sit on the edge of the bed so I can kneel in the floor?"� she whispered.

I did and Caryn did. She knelt in the dirty shag carpet remnant at my feet and tentatively wrapped her tiny hand around the very base of my cock. She batted her eyelashes at me one more time and leaned forward. This time when her lips wrapped around my cock it was an entirely different suck. Practiced. Smooth. Silky. And soft. Frustratingly soft. Her head bobbed at such a measured and slow pace, it was delightful, but it was pure tease. I knew I wasn't going to bust a nut with that suck. I let her head bob for a full half hour. I could feel the cum boiling in my balls, but Caryn's suck was just barely tepid enough not to trigger the first twitch of orgasm.

I'd had enough. I stood up, reached down and grabbed Caryn under her armpits. I swear my intent was only to lift her to her feet so I could push her back on the bed and mount her pussy. Instead I miscalculated how damn light she was. Maybe 80 pounds, and half of that had to be ass and titty. I ended up yanking her off the floor and then some. She flew up against my stomach and wrapped her legs across my back when we collided.

I just went with it. While I stood next to the bed, I reached around the steep curve of her ass and fingered the tip of my throbbing prick, pushing it toward Caryn's dripping fuckhole. She was gushing wet again. I lined up and pulled her downward, reveling in the grip of her tight sloppywet cunt squeezing lower and lower on my shaft. I pulled Caryn down until her meager weight was entirely supported by the bridge of her big clit against my pubic bone.

"OH mother of FUCK!"� Caryn shouted. Her eyes went thin. The backs of her heels began desperately fluttering to find the backs of my knees. "Jesusfuckingchrist, you're going to rip me in half!"� she yelped. For the first time it dawned on me that the pure ecstasy of having my cock buried to the hilt in tight, soppy gash wasn't translating to Caryn. Her entire mass was held up by my purple cockhead drilling up into the top of her cervix. She wasn't trying to fuck me. She was trying to climb me to get the stretching pressure-pain off her womb. Again, I know no one would (or should) believe that I had never had a sexually sadistic thought go through my mind before that night. I was always a perfectly boring gentleman in the sack. But again, there was something about Caryn that sparked my dominant streak. I widened my legs and stepped out when she tried to lock her legs behind me. I used my strength to overpower her and push her down even harder on my cock when she tried to pull up on my shoulders. Her eyes squinted shut in pain and tears started rolling out the corners. I kept my eyes open and mapped every deliciously cruel second of her agony. It was all new.

But eventually my urge to stroke my cock in and out of her pussy won out. I reached behind her and grabbed an ass cheek in each hand and began lifting her up as I backed my cock out of her, and then dropping her as I thrust forward. Caryn's head swiveled. Her top teeth went so far into her bottom lip that I expected blood to flow as she grimaced in pleasure and pain. Her head swiveled erratically around the anchor of her neck like a helium balloon on a windy day. She made little yippy squeaks as my hard prick drilled her pussy over and over.

Then she came. I had never experienced anything like it. Caryn's entire being began to thrash a tight little sine wave of hard, convulsive tremors. It was like holding an earthquake against my chest. Her pussy flooded once more. Soaking my balls and my thighs, raining down on the iffy dorm room carpet. She went limp as a Pad Thai noodle and I thought she may have passed out. I dropped her down on my cock again for some more particularly sadistic upthrusts and she didn't flinch.

"I think I killed you,"� I mumbled in her ear.

"That might explain why I'm in heaven,"� she muttered into my shoulder, her eyes not opening.

I leaned down and plunked Caryn's limp frame across the narrow bed frame. If she thought I was letting her rest, she was wrong. I grabbed her curvy hips, lifted her, and flipped her over on her stomach. Then I pulled her up into a doggy pose and backwards until her knees were barely on the mattress and her tiny feet hung in the air on each side of my legs. I wanted to doggy fuck her while standing so I could pound her pussy nice and hard.

Dammit. She had a nasty bunny tail of hair covering her asshole that was disgusting. I shouldn't have been surprised, given the huge bush she was sporting. "Gah,"� I thought. "This girl really needs work!"� The revelation was obvious. It was simple. It was undeniable. There was a really hot bitch on all fours in front of me. She just needed the Henry Higgins treatment. She needed makeup. She needed a small battalion of Brazilian spa girls sporting wooden sticks dripping with hot wax. She needed some clothes that fit her form, some skirts, something a girl wouldn't slop hogs in. She needed a good haircut and probably a professional dye job. Maybe blonde. Maybe brunette. Hell, she had the light skin to make a knockout redhead.

Caryn needed work.

I, on the other hand, needed to come. I reached out to grab a wad of the back of Caryn's straw coif and pulled her back into my twitching cock. I took turns pulling her hair and yanking her hips until I finally felt the point-of-no-return broiling up from my scrotum. I banged Caryn's pussy even harder and she began yipping in pain again. It felt as if my entire ass melted into lava and then rushed through the length of my cock as I began to pump cum.

I've had some impressive displays of cocksmanship in my life, but that first evening with Caryn set the high water mark. Seven. Eight. Nine orgasmic clenches. I pulled out of Caryn's pussy and a surprising tenth and eleventh shot of thick come fired into the back of her head. Wet white ropes made suspension bridges between the messy curls of her hair. I didn't think it was physically possible to have that much cum in me. I was fucking Spiderman, shooting sticky webs five and six feet in front of me.

I never asked if she was on birth control. Of course she wasn't. Even subsidized Planned Parenthood birth control pills cost a couple bucks every month. Caryn didn't have it.

Did she get pregnant? Amazing to me now, but no. Not that evening, not the next morning when I fucked her again. Not for hundreds of times after that, either. Absolutely fucking amazing. There was a point before we got married when Caryn asked if I'd ever had my sperm checked for mobility. Neither one of us could believe I put that many loads in her without a single "Bingo."� It was odd. Very odd, I admit.

But again, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Chapter 3 - Caryn Part Two

Caryn stopped following Cliff around. She started following me everywhere. Once Cliff found out I had fucked Caryn, he was merciless in his teasing. It bugged me for a little while and I tried to pretend like Caryn and I weren't really an item. But then I fucked her again. And again. She was there. I was a teenager. I wasn't going to turn down having a female pet. And that's what she was. We didn't go on dates. We didn't go out to dinner. When my cock was twitchy (which was nearly always) I did whatever I had a mind to do and she never balked at a single direction I gave her. She complied. She gave lousy, timid head. I posed her in whatever position I fancied. I balled her hard until I could see the pain on her face. Then I came inside her for two or three hard pumps before I pulled out and marked her face, tits, or back with even more strings of my hot seed. Everything was simple.

Then came the Christmas break of sophomore year, the first time Caryn and I were apart after we started fucking. Caryn asked if she could go home with me and stay with my parents. Not a crazy request, but remember, I said I was done with my parents by that time. I was going home for semester break alright, but I was going to stay with my quote-endquote real girlfriend (or rather the couch of her parents' house). My real girlfriend was still a senior in high school, where we'd started dating when I was a junior and she was a slutty freshman. Things were definitely cooling between Peggy and I as absence had made the heart grow distant, but there was still an offer on the table from her folks to crash there, get fed, and dogsit while the family traveled a couple days. Of course there also would be the inevitable crappy sweater under the tree with my name on it. The dorms were shut down and locked over break, so I had to go somewhere. Might as well go live it up and get reacquainted with Peggy's hot little cocksucking mouth. After a few months with Caryn's mediocre-at-best suck skills, I craved Peggy's hard, cock hungry slurping and the way she made defiant eye contact with me as she worked my cock deep from tip to balls.

"Naw, I'm not really going home,"� I told Caryn. "Staying with uh... staying with a friend."�

"Any chance I could crash there too?"� Caryn asked. Her eyes were big. I should have been able to read between the lines, but I wasn't very empathetic. I remember thinking of how insanely jealous Peggy was, and how funny was the idea of bringing a girlfriend with me to Peggy's house. Peggy may have been the only girl I ever fucked who didn't have a single iota of bi-curious adventure in her. She was the last girl on the planet to welcome Caryn.

"Sorry, Doll,"� I said. "I'm already kinda pushing my luck by crashing my friend's house. We're not as close as we used to be. Uh, so I'll catch up with you after break okay?"�

I was such a self-centered asshole. It never never never even crossed my mind to ask what Caryn was doing over the break. I assumed she was going home like everyone else. She was there when the carpool heading for my town packed up a few hours after final exams. She kissed me. I was still skittish about publicly acknowledging any emotional connection with Caryn and my return kiss was half-hearted.

I climbed into the back seat of an old Caprice that belonged to someone who posted an index card in the dorm lobby. I looked out he window. I still remember the expression on Caryn's face. It wasn't longing. It wasn't sadness. It wasn't about our parting. It was a mixture of fear and concern.

I did not have one fuck to give. I was going to be balls-deep in my high school girlfriend before midnight. That was the only thing on my mind.

--- A note from the author ---

Dudes and dudettes, I know I'm pretty far afield of the pedo pud-puller you were expecting. And we're getting pretty deep into the weeds with an intercallary story about a college Christmas dalliance that happened forever ago. I know. I know.

But I told you upfront, this isn't your typical jerk story. This is a true account of what happened over many years. The pedo chapter of my life was indirectly influenced by that which transpired on that Christmas break visit to Peggy's house, way back when. Those fifteen days had more than a little to do with why and how I ended up fucking my own daughter. If you've hung with me this far, hang a little longer.

Chapter 4 - Peggy Part One

Peggy's parents were high-functioning drunks. Fun drunks, but drunks. It was awesome. It was awesome because Mr. and Mrs. Wagner would do their drinking in trendy bars far from the suburbs where they lived. They'd drive into the city to go out drinking at the upscale watering holes and swerve back into the driveway at three thirty in the morning. On countless occasions, Peggy and I would still be in her bed when we heard the family car squeal cattycorner into the garage. We'd run out of her room while pulling on our clothes and sit on the couch. Moments later, Mom and Dad Wags would stumble past the living room, flip a bleary-eyed wave to us, and weave their way to bed.

About a third of the time they'd phone home to tell Peggy they were getting a hotel room for the night instead of driving home wasted. These nights were the best. No listening for the garage opener. Just all night sucking and fucking without fear of interruption.

My first night back in town at Peggy's house, Mom and Dad Wags already had their hotel reservations at the same downtown hotel where Dad Wags' trucking company was having it's holiday bash. Peggy and I were greenlighted for some carefree welcome home sex.

Unfortunately, Peggy had a jones to see the latest Eddie Murphy movie, way back when Eddie Murphy movies didn't suck. I wanted her to pop the pressure on my balls before we left, but she was being her usual headstrong self. It was a power game. It had been a constant power struggle with us for the past year. My win-loss ratio with Peggy's power plays was not impressive.

Peggy had been adopted at birth by the Wagners, who had been told they could not have children of their own. Four years later, Mrs. Wags wound up pregnant with Suzie. Suzie, twelve years old during that Christmas break, was the spitting image of Mrs. Wags. Both were willowy natural blondes. Both had hair that ran shorter than I liked, but not butch short. Both quite beautiful and elvish in their facial features. Mrs. Wags had B-titties at best. Suzie had just started to bud off her flat girl chest. Mrs. Wags was a stitch and Suzie was a little sweetheart who did a lousy job keeping her girl crush on her sister's boyfriend to herself. In many ways I felt more welcome in the Wagner's comfortable middle-class ranch home than Peggy did.

Peggy was a curvy caramel brunette. It was the late 80s so she wore her hair big and usually plastered with so much Aquanet that it was no fun to touch. Her tits were a handful, and I remember how heavy they were. Not so much big carpet schmackers. But dense. Her nipples were brown and flat with just a tiny pimple of a chewable nib on the ends, competing with several other smaller nipple formations swirling through her aureoles. If a guy wasn't watching what he was doing, he could latch on to the wrong nipple.

I thought Peggy was short at 5' 4"�. I must have been comparing her to her tall mother. She seemed taller all of a sudden, but it was likely the comparison to tiny Caryn.

Peggy surprised me the previous year by shaving her pussy smooth. We had watched a Ginger Lynn porno on VHS and I commented on how all the girls in porn had shaved. So Peg shaved her pussy smooth as a birthday present to me. I loved it, so she kept it.

I can't remember if the movie Peggy insisted on seeing that night was Beverly Hills Cop II or The Golden Child. I just remember the movie sucked and my cock kept yo-yoing down my pant leg and back up into my boxers as I impatiently waited for the damn credits to roll. After the movie she tried to talk me into going to her girlfriend's house to hang out for a while, but I put my foot down. We were going back to her house and she was going to hang out with my cock. Period.

The corner of Peggy's mouth twitched and I knew she had been pushing my buttons. Again.

Once through the threshold of her door I pulled her toward her room. Suzie and her sleepover friend Maxy were draped over the living room couches and waved at me as we breezed by.

"I have to pee first,"� Peggy said. "Go on in my room and wait for me."�

Of all my frustrations with Peggy, my Number One gripe was that she had a bladder the size of a walnut. She was always peeing. She'd peed before we left for the movie. She'd peed when we arrived at the theater. She'd been up twice during the movie. She was peeing for her fifth time in three hours. Because she was always peeing, her pussy constantly tasted like piss. I'd stopped trying to lick her years before.

Before I went in to Peggy's pink room, I lingered in the hallway for a moment, looking at the gallery of framed family photographs lining the walls. I loved looking at those pictures. The Wagners were so fucking happy. Even their posed portraits were fun. For a guy with a dysfunctional upbringing, it soothed my heart to see the evidence of a real family. Mom and Dad were drunks. The kids were left home alone too much. One of the kids was adopted. But still, there was no denying they were a real family. They loved each other unconditionally. I wanted that family.

"You see his thing all hard in his pants?"� It was Maxy whispering too loud.

"Shhhh. You tramp!"� Suzie giggled.

"Oh, like you haven't talked about Skip's wiener a dozen times!"�

"Shhhh! Dammit Maxy, be quiet."�

"Tell me again how big it is."�

"It's a telephone pole,"� Suzie giggled. "As big as my forearm."�

Suzie had walked into Peggy's room once while she was jacking my cock. Suzie was exaggerating, but apparently those few seconds before Peggy shouted her back out the door had left an impression on little Suzie. I hadn't thought anything of it. Suzie was too little for me to think of her as anything other than my girlfriend's baby sister.

"I don't know how it all fits in Peg's vagina,"� Suzie whispered. "It would have to stick up into her stomach."�

"Maybe he just puts the head in."�

"Maybe."�

"You think they're going to do it?"� Maxy asked.

"Of course they're going to do it!"� Suzie said. "They always do it. Peggy says she gets tired of how much Skip always wants to do it. But she says that's how girls keep their boyfriends."�

"If she's tired of Skip, I'll do it with him,"� Maxy said. "He can be my boyfriend, I'd even let you watch us do it."� Maxy started laughing.

"Big talk,"� Suzie countered. "Big talk, Cherry McCherison."�

"So you do it,"� Maxy teased back. "You know you want it as much as I do. Now that you're no longer a virgin, you crawl in with Skip tonight after Peggy goes to bed. You know you like Skip as much as I do."�

"More."�

"Nuh-uh."�

"More. Totally. I saw him first, Slut."�

"Slut ho."�

"They'll sleep together all night. My parents aren't coming home. Besides, Peggy would beat the shit out of me if she caught me with her boyfriend. She'd totally fucking kill you, Max."�

Maxy sighed.

The hall bathroom door popped open and Peggy stepped out. "What are you doing out here?"� Peggy said it loud enough that I know the girls in the living room heard her. There must have been a "Did Skip hear us talking shit?"� moment between them.

Again, I know this is a pedo story but God strike me dead, I did not have a "Whooo boy!"� moment. Maxy had really big juicy new tits for a just-turned-thirteen year old and she was tiny the way I liked my girls. She had long, wavy espresso brunette hair the way I really really like on a woman. But I'd seen her playing with dolls just a couple years back. I merely thought her interest and her grown up sex talk was cute. Suzie still looked more like a girl than a woman, even if she was almost as tall as Peggy now. I loved the kid, but I didn't want to bone her. My mind was still trying to process what she said about losing her virginity. I couldn't believe that skinny little girl had already fucked a boy.

I looked down to see Peggy's round water balloon jugs bouncing naked in front of me. Her pants were unzipped, peeled open at the snap, and ready for removal. I planted a hot, wet kiss on her. I pushed the tip of my tongue against the roof of her mouth. My cock was so pumped with anticipation I could have broken a concrete block in half with it. I pulled Peggy into her room by the elbow and pushed the door shut behind us.

Chapter 5 - Peggy Part Two

Peggy sex was an exercise in Love-Hate.

She could suck my cock like a big eyed porn princess, no gag reflex at all. She could deep throat until the head of my cock jammed deep behind her tonsils. She could suck hard, fast, and for a long time.

The bitch, however, would not swallow a drop of cum. I could paint her face. I could starch her already starched hair. I could pump my sticky load all over her tits. I could finish off by emptying my nuts in her pill-protected pussy. But she had never swallowed a drop of my spunk. We were young. It was the 80s. It wasn't unusual for a high school girl not to swallow, but it was annoying.

I begged Peggy to suck from her knees. I didn't understand at the time why it was important to me to see her on her knees. She insisted on sucking either while sitting Indian style or laying down prone on the bed. Annoying.

And the world would fucking end if I went from her pussy to her mouth without washing my cock first. That was very sexy, lemmetellya. I always started in her mouth. Half the time I transitioned to fuck her. Half the time I just kept her sucking until I painted her.

I never mounted Peggy a single time that she didn't act as if her pussy was going to break from the effort. Sure she was young and tight, but c'mon. After the five hundredth fucking, that pussy was not going to tear like rice paper. Peggy had a ridiculously low pain threshold. She had big flapping labia lips she insisted on parting into a perfect pussy butterfly with two fingers of one hand while she worked my cock into her fuckbox slooooooowly with the other hand. The more impatient I was to fuck, the longer she'd take to let my cock slide past he tipping point where I could stroke all the way in. Then she'd lean back, make a sexy little "O"� out of her mouth, and grunt while I sawed in and out of her cunt. She wanted me to stay chest-to-chest with her while I humped, which made it tough to get a good pounding fuck on.

Peggy sat in the floor flat on her ass while I sat on the edge of her waterbed. Peggy paused to pick some lint off from under the crown of my cock head, which was already bright red in anticipation. My brick-hard cock waggled and jerked. The anticipation of Peggy's suck was maddening. Peggy dragged out the moment by running her fingertips all over my cock as if she was looking for more fuzz bits. Peggy wrapped her fingers around the middle of my cock and squeezed. It was the way she telegraphed her readiness. She looked up at me and smiled wanly. Her lips make a kissing pucker and her face leaned forward until that hot soft kiss landed tight against my dripping sperm hole. I saw her jaw working up a mouthful of saliva. Then her suck dropped fast and deep on my swollen prick. A shock to the system. From frustrating pricktease to hungry suckwhore in less than a second. My whole body convulsed in the transition. The hot pleasure of her tight slurp made my stomach drop and my head swoon. Peggy didn't moan while she sucked. Peg was all business.

For no good reason, I had flashbacks to Caryn sucking my cock, but Caryn sucked from her knees, her tiny little feet folded under her curvy ass. Caryn moaned while she bobbed her too-soft, timid suck. I knew that was what I wanted from Peggy. Well, not the "too-soft"� part, but everything else.

"Get on your knees,"� I said to Peggy.

She looked me in the eye while her mouth worked a delicious figure eight pattern over my engorged cock head. She shook her head to say "No,"� without relinquishing her suck. Then she went back to long, deep sword swallows.

"I mean it,"� I insisted. "Just get on your knees."�

This time Peggy pulled her suck off my cock and stroked softly. "I told you before,"� she said flatly, "I'm more comfortable like this."�

My blood pressure started rising in my frustration. I hadn't been told "No"� by Caryn in months. I was used to getting whatever I wanted. I had been home to Peggy for less than six hours and I was getting pissed off already.

"C'mon,"� I said. "C'mon. Knees. C'mon, Peg. Celebrate me home."� (Yes, I cringe at the douchbaggery of it now, but that's what I actually said.)

"No,"� she said flatly again.

"Knees."� I said, the anger coming out in my voice.

Peggy stopped. She dropped my cock. I could see her temper seeping in at the edges of her expression. "Look,"� she said. "Do you want a blow job or not?"�

"Do I want a blow job?"� I asked. The animal frustration of my throbbing cock mixing with the anger of a dusty couple's spat surfaced for the umpteenth time and set me off. I kept thinking "Caryn wouldn't pull this shit on me. Caryn would do as she's told."�

"Do I want a blow job?"� I repeated with incredulity. "Yeah I want a blow job. I want a blow job from a girlfriend who doesn't act like a fucking prissy bitch, that's what I want. I want you to act like you know you're mine, that's what I want. I want you to suck my cock from your goddamn knees, Peggy. That's what I want."�

Peggy rolled her eyes. "Fuck this,"� she said. She shifted off her ass and stood up. "Jerk your own cock. I don't fucking care. Fuck this bullshit. I'm getting dressed and I'm going to Dixie's house. You can stay here. You can leave. You can go to Mars, I don't fucking care."�

I was furious. I'd been mad at Peggy before, but never as boiling hot as I was at that moment.

"Peg, knock it off,"� I said. "Get back here."�

She bent over to pick her panties off the floor. "Fuck off,"� she muttered.

**snap**

Too much testosterone. Too much bullshit. My balls were too blue. Frankly, I had too little to lose.

As Peggy leaned up with her panties in her hand, I stood up off the edge of the bed and my fingers jammed hard and deep into the Frito of crunchy hair on the top of her head. Her eyes bugged with shock as I pulled her face upwards to mine.

"Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees."� I spat through my teeth. "Now."�

"OW! Skip you're hurting me!"�

"Now!"� I jerked her head backwards and she naturally folded down onto her knees.

"Fuck. Skip! Fuck! OW! Stop --"�

While keeping a tight grip on her hair I jammed my cock forward and silenced her. I stuffed rock hard cock all the way into her mouth and as far down her sassy bitch throat as I could until it wouldn't go any farther. I told you Peggy could take a cock in her throat deeper than any other cocksucker I'd ever had to that point, but I was two-plus inches deeper into her jaw than I'd ever been before. I didn't let up. I just kept pulling and twisting her hair tighter and thrusting my prick harder. After a long count, maybe ten seconds, Saliva began boiling out of the corners of Peggy's mouth. Her eyes flashed wide with panic. Her face flushed a deep red and her fingernails began to claw at my thighs. I released her just enough to catch a breath. As soon as she had an air gap she started to scream. My cock went back in her gullet with vengeful determination. There was still a good inch of cock left before my balls smashed into her lips and by God, that last inch was going in that bitch's stretched mouth, somehow.

Another ten seconds and I could see Peggy was in real trouble; The panic in her expression; The force with which she was trying to push off my thighs to escape my strength. She looked terrified.

I kept my grip on her hair and pulled my hips back until my cock popped out of her mouth, coated with a long, looping sheen of goopy white saliva still attached to the lining of Peggy's mouth. She gasped for air and spittle sprayed everywhere. My cock twitched hard and high, flinging saliva strings over her tits neck and face.

"You gonna get with the program, now, Honey?"� I growled at her. I didn't even recognize my own voice.

"Pwah,"� she gushed an unexpected second wave of saliva over her bottom lip. It cascaded down her chin and onto the slope of her tits. She looked up at me with murderous eyes. Her eyeliner mixed with tears and began to streak down her round cheeks.

"Skip you fucking asshol--"�

Crack.

I heard the sound before I even realized I did it. I had slapped her. Not terribly hard, but it sounded impressive. I had never hit a girl before that moment. Peggy screamed meekly a beat later. She looked at me again, this time with total bewilderment.

I couldn't believe I had actually done it. But there was my hand, hanging in the air on the other side of her face where I'd frozen in shock at my own barbarianism.

My overriding instinct: Beg for forgiveness. Drop to my knees and apologize profusely. Do whatever it took to get back on the "right"� side of the metaphorical line I had just crossed.

Craziest damn thing, though. This inner voice sounded off inside my head. "Don't back down. Double down."�

And then my frozen hand moved backwards across Peg's cheek. The backhand blow was purely symbolic. There was only the minimum impact to Peg's face. One time, years before, I'd accidentally cracked her jaw much harder while we were play-wrestling and after the initial "ouch"� registered, we went right back to playing grabass. But even if it was more symbolic than sadistic, the backhand slap was highly-effective symbolism. To this day I'm sure it was the backhand that got me through the tricky moment.

Peg looked at me with stunned, bewildered silence.

"Wrap your lips around my prick,"� I said through my teeth, "and if you so much as blink at me wrong, I'm going to beat your ass unconscious and you are going to wake up ass-raped. Are we clear? Are we clear?"�

"Clear,"� Peg whispered, frightened.

"You're going to suck my cock, aren't you?"�

"Yes."�

"Yes, Sir!"�

Peg blinked. "Yessir."�

"And because you pissed me off you are going to swallow every drop of my cum, aren't you?"�

Peg's eyes got even wider. She opened her mouth to argue, but couldn't shake the words loose.

"Aren't you?"� I repeated.

"Yessir."�

"Suck!"�

And she did. Peg stayed on her knees and she sucked cock like her life might just depend on it. She sucked with machine-like intensity. I had the stamina to hold off an hour if I was getting a great blow job. Hell, I'd sat in a chair and made Peg suck for two hours before; made her suck until her lips were swollen and blisters formed on her gums. That night the momentum of the intensity of the rough sex was way too powerful to resist. I didn't last five minutes until my prostate skipped and all that power and delicious control broiled up and out of my tight balls and gushed into Peg's throat.

She tried to keep up with the waves of spurting come. She really did. But I didn't stop squirting and she eventually missed a swallow that set her choking. She coughed her way off my still-twitching cock and my last shot went directly into her open right eye.

"Uhg,"� she said when her airway cleared. "That tasted nasty. I need a glass of water."� Peg pushed up and stood up. She started to walk out the door of her room. I wasn't ready to let her go.

"No,"� I said. "I worked hard to get my essence inside you. You're going to lay with me for a while and let it work through your bloodstream first."�

Peg looked at me suspiciously. I'm sure I was doing the same. For all I knew she was going to run naked out her front door screaming "Rape!"� to the neighbors.

I sat on the edge of the waterbed and pulled Peg up and onto my lap. I lay back with her into the big unbaffled waves of the old-fashioned waterbed. We bobbed for a moment and then we both swam across the gelatinous rhythms toward the headboard and pillows. Once we arrived in our positions, Peg wiped her eye with a corner of her pillowcase and pulled a comforter over her legs. I spooned behind her. Neither of us spoke. The silence was viscous. Peg sniffled and began to hitch with cries. I felt terrible. I wanted to apologize. I bit my tongue instead.

"Y-you've never been like that to me before,"� she sobbed.

Don't back down. Double down.

"Yeah,"� I said. My arms tightened around her and my fingers started a gentle massage of her outer boobs. "That was a bit intense wasn't it?"�

"That was mean. You were mean."�

"Maybe,"� I said. My mental wheels spun for the words that would get me safely to the other side of the awkward moment. "I was wired pretty tight."�

"I d-don't understand."�

"I haven't jacked off since the last time I saw you. What? Three month ago? On the Patio furniture after Jimmy left? Remember?"�

Her sobbing stopped. She sniffed snot. "Seriously?"�

"God's honest,"� I lied.

"You haven't come a single time since then?"�

"Nope. Saving it for you."�

Peggy spun in the bed to face me. Her eyes looked me over in the moonlight coming though the window. "Oh my God. You are totally serious. Auww. That's sweet.."� She measured my expression again with her stare. "No wonder you were such a fucking hard-on all night. No wonder you came so hard. I was wondering if you had a couple of midgets hidden in those big balls of yours."� She giggled.

Bingo! At that moment I knew I had escaped the consequences of my rough sex wrath. I had a mind blowing power sex session. I came harder than the Johnstown flood. I got some long needed payback on three years worth of Peggy power struggle issues. And I had gotten away with it.

I doubled down again.

"You picked a really shitty night to press my buttons,"� I said.

Peggy sighed. "Yeah, I guess I did."� [Insert sound effect of slot machine paying out here] "I'm sorry. Nobody likes a pricktease."� [Clang clang clang!]

"And I'm sorry things got a little out of hand,"� I said. I kissed her. She kissed back. I pushed her mouth open with my tongue and wrestled her little pink cocklicker. My hands went back on her tits.

"Can you hang on just a minute? Peggy asked. "I have to pee."�

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