Subject:     My Daughter and Friends
Story Codes: MF Mf oral cheat incest mother daughter
Author:      Dan <whalesrevenge2009@gmail.com>
Posted by:   Kelly <pghpa_girl@yahoo.com>

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

                              !!!WARNING!!!!

This file contains sexually explicit material which may include graphic 
depictions of underage, nonconsensual and unprotected sex as well as 
incest, adultery, sodomy and bestiality.  It is distributed on a website 
clearly identified as "For Adults Only".  Possession by a minor is 
strictly forbidden.  If you are not legally empowered to be in possession 
of such material, do not read it and delete it immediately.

This work is copyrighted 2013 to the author. It may be posted to non- 
commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites so 
long as no changes are made to the content and the Author information is 
retained.   Any other use of this work is by written permission of the 
Author only.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Summary
=======
Dan is your typical middle-aged father of three daughters.  While he 
masturbates regularly to thoughts of their friends - he claims to have no 
lust for his own daughters - something I highly doubt considering some 
the cum he has sprayed on some of their photos!

Table of Contents
=================
   Chapter  1 - Introduction
   Chapter  2 - My Mother
   Chapter  3 - Lusting For My Daughter's Friends
   Chapter  4 - About My Daughters
   Chapter  5 - My "Playmate" - Part 1
   Chapter  6 - My "Playmate" - Part 2
   Chapter  7 - Response to Kelly's Ethical Dilemmas
   Chapter  8 - Sex With A Slut Mom While Her Daughter Watches
   Chapter  9 - Fucking the Slut Mom and Cumming on Her Daughter
   Chapter 10 - Fucking the Slut Mom While Her Daughter Helps
   Chapter 11 - My 1st Tribute to Kari, My Daughter's 14 Year-Old Friend
   Chapter 12 - My 2nd Tribute to Kari, My Daughter's 14 Year-Old Friend


Chapter 1 - Introduction
========================

Hey Kelly,

I have to admit that I have been consumed by your website for about the 
last week since I first discovered it.  I feel almost like a dunce not 
finding it sooner since I've been searching and reading ASSTR for years.  
Strange things, these search engines.

You are like nothing I have ever encountered on the web.  You have no 
idea how your website, and then exploring YOU in your writings affected 
me.  Having said that, I couldn't imagine a better way to get acquainted 
than to tackle the dilemmas.  I'll get to work.  It will take me sometime 
to collect my thoughts in writing as I feel them.  I'll take them in 
order and send you one at a time so that you don't have to wait too long 
to hear from me.  Again, I have nothing to teach you or anybody else on 
ethical dilemmas.  Let's just say I'm going to speak from the heart 
(well, the uninhibited one's heart!).

First, a formal introduction from me.  I'm a male in my late forties, 
married with three teenage daughters (ranging in age from thirteen 
through sixteen).  I have no sexual interest in my daughters, not even 
fantasies (thinking about THEM sexually is an anti-fantasy for me).  But 
fantasies about young girls (even very young, but older too) and their 
families that are NOT my family is something I'm guilty as charged.  I do 
love my wife and daughters, and we have a happy household.  I'd like my 
sex life to be wilder, but what husband wouldn't?  I've had a "ying/yang" 
issue since I was a teenager between my inhibited personality and my 
uninhibited personality.  Very recently, the latter is starting to win 
out.  One reflection of that change is for me to be much more overt about 
expressing my love for my wife and daughters.  She is wondering what is 
going on with me.  But it’s not really a complaint, it's more like "hey 
your suddenly being so nice." This different "person" is getting strange 
looks, with a few giggles tossed in.

My physical looks, well, I have a modestly natural athletic build (I 
write this after working out this morning at the gym).  I get feedback 
from time to time that the first impression of women that meet me is that 
they often find me "cute." My wife keeps a wary eye on that, and blurted 
out once "your cute and you know it!" But while I like that, my 
previously dominant inhibited personality never took advantage of it.  
I've never been unfaithful.

I have a well-paying professional job with excellent job security, and 
based on my formal education, I am considered very well educated.  I live 
in the U.S., but that's all I need to say for now.

But, as you might guess, my uninhibited personality is chock full of 
fantasies.  Why else would I have consumed your website with such 
enthusiasm?  Have no fear, you will not get from me, now or ever, a 
flaming email.  In fact, I do hope you take an interest in me.  I would 
enjoy a regular and continuing correspondence with you.  Of course, 
that's your choice, but since you asked directly and repeatedly for 
feedback on your points of view as expressed in your "About Me" section, 
then I'm only answering your request (albeit with great enthusiasm).

I hope you will answer my request to become a correspondent of mine.  In 
fact, I would enjoy the challenge of corresponding about just about 
anything that interests you, and the topic of hand (ethical dilemmas and 
your position on underage sex) was going through my mind throughout my 
morning workout.  It's a great way, by the way, to keep your mind off how 
much you hate doing crunches (my abdomen is my chink in the armor, not 
potbellied by any means, just not as tight as it once was).

But in keeping with the emergence of my uninhibited personality, I would 
like the correspondence to be allowed to be as explicit as the rest of 
the writings on your web page.  Why?  Because, I would like to propose 
"scenarios" and get your comments.  After all, a core set of principals 
is only as good as their manifestation in actual circumstances.  Your 
father the attorney knows that: The law does not really exist outside of 
the cases in which it has been tested.

So, for me to understand your true position, I would like to explore some 
rather explicit scenarios with you.  You must agree with the principal, 
since your ethical dilemmas page is all about scenarios.  They just 
happen to be real ones (I'm taking your word for that, of course).  My 
scenarios will not be real, only fantasies concocted to put the 
principals you advocate or that you DON'T advocate into perspective.  At 
times I might point out inconsistencies I believe I may have spotted.  Of 
course, you will have every opportunity to explain it to me why my 
perception of an inconsistency is incorrect, and I will guarantee you 
that I will ALWAYS respect your position.  Maybe we might agree to 
disagree (that is, whether there is an inconsistency or not), but I will 
NEVER be judgmental.  After all, I've enjoyed the HELL out of your 
website.  I'm not going to call the kettle black!  Really, I just want to 
understand you better.  And by your own admission, some of your positions 
are, well, complicated.  If I, from time to time, make reference to the 
"larger societal position on a particular matter." For example is oral 
sex sex?  Well, you have pointed out more than once that that issue 
didn't turn Bill Clinton's way.  

But having said that, I realize that you make no representations that you 
expect your positions to be accepted by "regular society" which I agree 
with.  It IS ample justification, in my mind, for you to keep many 
aspects of your sexual identity, including the real identity of the 
person stewarding your website, a secret from "regular society." I 
realize that that is not because you are ashamed of your position nor are 
you insincere in your position, but since you must function in "regular 
society" to make a living, and so must other members of your family, it 
is a necessity.  So must I, of course, which is why I am using an 
anonymous email address.  So, to different degrees, we're in the same 
boat.

Well, that's my short introduction.  My motivation?  Simple, to let my 
uninhibited personality to explore my fantasy and maybe other people's 
reality (yes, just like I saw you admit in one of your chats, I find the 
plausibility of reality in some of them mighty erotic) to the LIMITS.  
So, with your permission, I will be uninhibited in my correspondence 
should you encourage me to continue.  And that's how I would like to wrap 
up this introductory email.  Before I write a bunch of fantasy's 
interlocated with introspection on issues raised either directly in your 
various position statements or indirectly in the circumstantial evidence 
of the rest of the website (especially the chats, which are my FAVORITE), 
I need your encouragement.

Now, you may be skeptical to enter into correspondence without "proof" 
that it will be interesting to you.  I realize that, so I would like to 
suggest what I will do should you encourage a continuing correspondence 
and reciprocate adequately to make it worth my time and effort.

1. I will write "Chat Sequence" Fantasy's and narrative fantasy's (more  
   of the former, probably) to provide the context for the discussion.

2. I will be sympathetic to "who you are" at all times.  Remember, I'm 
   NOT a flamer!  But I like to debate (I'm said to be pretty good at 
   it, but from the chat logs you've posted you are incredible
   persuader!).  At the end of the day, I'm really only interested in 
   understanding our positions better and testing them in contextual 
   situations.  I have no interest in challenging your positions.  If, 
   however, you choose to reflect on our conversation and challenge them 
   yourself, well, just let me know, because I will be thrilled to 
   eliminate the confusion in my mind on tricky points.

3. I will be happy to establish "credibility" with you, if that's 
   important to you.  I'm a male, so I can do tributes, and my 
   uninhibited side would JUMP at the chance.  But that's up to you.

Warmest Regards, 
Dan


Chapter 2 - My Mother
=====================

Dear Kelly,

Thanks for sharing the few minutes you had available with me chatting 
this afternoon.  It put some things in perspective, but left me not a bit 
short on my original enthusiasm for you.

So, when we had to "hang up" I had just started blathering about my 
personality while growing up and the topic of my perception of my 
Mother's point of view about sexuality came up.  Don't know why it did as 
it's only one piece of a puzzle about myself, but since you asked to hear 
more via email, why not?

But before I get started, let me lead with one thought.  The following is 
the "truth" as I know it and/or can remember it.  Why do people like me 
confide true personal details (even to the point of web-camming it!) to a 
person like you?  There are folks who, if they read this, would know who 
wrote it.  And given your privacy policy why would I go down that path?  
It's one thing for "Heather" to ask pointedly about including my wife in 
future chats.  Does it matter to "Heather" that even if my "wife" starts 
showing up in chats with "her" (after a decent interval to keep pretenses 
of the fantasy up), it would only be role playing by me?

I don't think Heather would care, or maybe even Heather expects that.  
And since I'm messing around with all you all for more than just the 
interesting intellectual dialog, meaning I'm ok with some nasty fantasy 
thrown in the mix, then I'm inclined to fulfill "her" wish.  But that's 
with Heather, not with you.  With you, I'm going to stick to the truth as 
much as possible and try not to lie, unless we are ourselves in fantasy 
land.  For some reason, I don't want to lie to you.  If we get to a point 
where I can't tell the truth, I'll just change the subject.

So where did I come from and what was my mother like during critical 
phases of my adolescence?  On the face of it, not much different than 
most middle-upper-middle income families with a father who was a 
professional and a mother that had stopped her college education to marry 
my father (no unintended pregnancies, just "kids" closing the deal).  My 
mother's mother was against such traditionalism, she wanted college 
educated children even though she and my mother's adoptive father were 
not.  Grandmother was a very intelligent person, and a hard but not 
poverty stricken life had made that ambition for her children real.  She 
would eventually be rewarded, but in the beginning, the decision to get 
married had a taste of disappointment in the usual feast of celebration.

What kind of professional did my mother stop her education to marry?  If 
you've ever seen the movie "An Officer and a Gentleman" then you know the 
story.  While it wasn't a factory girl getting the Naval Aviation Cadet, 
it was a young college coed from a family of limited means.  Otherwise, 
it was, from what I can gather, a lot like the movie.

Four children followed in the first half of the 1960's.  The nature of my 
father's job meant travel.  Unlike some of the stereotypes about people 
in his profession, he was a family man and did not like long separations 
from his family.  Therefore, his family traveled to faraway places with 
him.

Eventually, we ended up in California, even though that was not where any 
of us were born.  My mother restarted her college career part time, at a 
time when the "non-traditional student" had not even been invented.  
Eventually, we ended up in the vicinity of San Francisco for the longest 
period of our lives to date.  I was able to finish elementary school 
there.  My mother finished her college degree, getting a bachelors in 
sociology from one of the state universities in the area.  The long time 
coming accomplishment was rather unusual at the time.  The local paper (a 
large circulation daily newspaper) ran an article in the style section 
recounting her accomplishment.  We were all in the feature picture.

The time period was the early 1970's.  Dad was away on the longest 
separation he would ever serve.  Yes, Haite Ashbury was at its peak.  And 
we were within driving distance.  My mother is a devout Christian woman.  
All of us children were raised in an environment of regular church going 
(my family does so as well, after a long period before kids of not doing 
so).  The parish was large and dynamic.  And the church was a haven for 
people with an appreciation for changing attitudes.  Not counter culture, 
no far from it, but just ready to take a look at the new ideas and new 
ways.  The parish separated into "traditionalists" and "reformists." Both 
factions were of the same parish, but chose to worship in different 
buildings.  It kept the peace.  We almost always worshiped with the 
reformists.  My mother got to know high-school age young people (no hanky 
panky that I know of) through babysitters, etc.  I remember several 
occasions driving to "cultural events" in San Francisco.  One involved a 
walk through Haite Ashbury with several of the young people (including us 
but we were bored and not particularly impressed).  Some of the youngins 
picked up copies of the local underground newspapers and read them on the 
drive home.  We were shooed away from them.

On another occasion, we drove to see an art exhibition at a major 
downtown museum.  My mother is an artistic person with an appreciation of 
the masters.  Part of the exhibition was a collection of nudes.  I was 
partly mortified, partly beside myself with lust.  This was better than 
national geographic.  My mother dealt with the protests with a standard 
explanation.  "The human body, especially the female body, has always 
been the subject of fine art." 

But the conflict with the "partly this" and "partly that" side of my 
nature became a personality conflict that I still struggle with.  The 
public facade could be of a shy prude.  The private facade was of sexual 
turbulence and desire for verbal and graphical satiation.  That side 
stayed under wraps, except much later around close male friends and when 
further assisted with alcohol.  But that evening, during the non-trivial 
drive home, I was broken open by the paintings and the encouragement of 
my mother to participate in their viewing.  That encouraged me to ask 
some questions.  

We had long since had the birds and the bees conversation (from her 
naturally), but my interest was now about sexuality and attitudes, not 
procreation.  I don't remember all of the questions, but I know I tried 
to escalate with less and less hypothetical questions and more and more 
personal questions.  My mother matched every escalation with a calm 
totally honest seeming answer.  So, maybe I started to get a little 
frustrated.  Wasn't there something that I could ask that would reveal 
the "wrongness" of some of this?  Something must have popped in my head.  
Something like "Well, if the female body is so beautiful that we can view 
paintings of them, what about viewing pictures of them?" So, I went for 
the juggler.

"Mommy, before you were married, if you could have posed in Playboy 
magazine, would you have?"

My mother paused (in my feeble recollection) realizing this was a bit of 
trap.  She did not want to shock me with willfully condoning naughty 
magazines.  But she had encouraged me (and my siblings) to look at those 
paintings.  She just smiled and said, "Yes, maybe I would have, but the 
opportunity never arose."

Stunned into silence was my reaction.  What kind of mother did I have?

A college educated mother with a degree in sociology, that's what kind.  
Which means, she "objectively" studies people and their cultures.  And, 
she was a creature of a "new age." And she had pre-pubescent children, 
but only just so, on her hands without a possibly more conservative 
father's input for the moment.

My mother was also not much of a prude when it came to her body.  But she 
was not an exhibitionist, or even an "open household" type mother either.  
We walked around the house with clothes on at all times.  But, with 
everything that was going on in a busy household, sometimes perfect 
prudence was not possible.  It was a rare but regular event that I would 
somehow manage to walk into her bedroom when she was dressing, or 
sometimes just be in the hallway when she was running around undressed, 
trying to get dressed, while trying to do something else at the same 
time.  Like I said, it was rare, but it did not bother her.  She would 
just laugh.  Much later, when I was an older teenager or even in college 
visiting during the holidays or summer, the "event" would always 
frustrate me.  "MOM!" I would shout as I turned away, while she just 
laughed and sometimes said "it's alright!"

Today's kids have coined a term for these kinds of things: TMI = TOO MUCH 
INFORMATION!  I heard that recently at a soccer team party in which the 
grownups were talking in a group with the teenage girls sitting nearby 
and somehow the "vision" of their parents having sex was dropped into the 
larger group discussion.  One of the girls shouted "YUCK, TMI!" with the 
girl's mother giggling nearby.

We eventually moved away from California for a last tour in my father's 
chosen profession.  It was a fun time, both for us and for them.  The 
basic "business unit" that my father worked in was led by older more 
experienced men like my father, but was filled with young, energetic men, 
often with young attractive and outgoing wives.  Even though the job was 
demanding for all concerned and time consuming, the culture of the 
business unit was "party hard when time permitted." "Fun" was measured in 
parties that now boggle my mind.  They would last long into the night.  I 
was at babysitting age and there were few other ways to make money.  It 
was not unusual for me to be woken up by returning parents at four in the 
morning and then to walk home (those were the days).  Sometimes, it was 
the crack of dawn.  I have no reason to believe that any of these parties 
crossed in moral lines, but the nature of the beast was such that there 
were at least a few wives having more than their fair share of fun while 
husbands were detained by work (tittering on such matters occurred above 
my pay grade).  I have no reason to ever believe this was the norm, and 
certainly not for my parents.  But I remember one couple that I babysat 
for. 

It's difficult now for me to believe that any of MY friends or family 
would ever permit my teenage daughters (or sons if had them) to 
experience what this hip but not wild looking couple casually suggested 
to me (no, it was not to have sex with them or anyone else, still, the 
details are a bit crazy to me given "today's" prohibitions on encouraging 
sexual topics among minors).  But that's a story for another day.  I did 
meet this couple again several years later when I was a senior in high 
school under circumstances that were ironic to say the least.  Again, 
another topic, another day.  And, by the way, I'm not making this up!

Even though I was a teenager during the whole time of the assignment, I 
had been too immature to really take advantage of the raging sexuality 
that teenage girls who were my peers were then experiencing (only later 
did I get a full appreciation of what was going through some of their 
heads).  Despite that, I did have a few desperate girls try to get my 
attention.  But now the inhibited personality stood up and defended my 
virtue.  My uninhibited personality, however, had no end to the 
fantasies, and daily masturbation was the norm.  But "reality" was always 
kept in a bottle.  My mother and father did not push anything.  Still, I 
went to dances and loved to dance with the hotties.  (Some of the music 
of the day is on my iPod and brings back very fun memories.  It's funny 
how much my daughters love the stuff!)

Eventually, this job assignment ended, and we all moved to the East coast 
where I was to graduate from high school and attend college.  During the 
trip home to the East coast, we as a family had a little R&R.  My mother 
wanted to go to Paris, which was an overnight train ride away.  My 
brother and I chose to accompany her, not for "Ullallah," but for museum 
visiting and to say we had been there.  After all, by then I was a 
seasoned traveler and had already explored the red light district of 
Amsterdam as a sixteen year-old along with other high school chums.  
Believe it or not, the inhibited one thought this was an embarrassing 
spectacle that right minded individuals should avoid, although I was not 
so offended that I wouldn't take a peek.  I just didn't want other right 
minded individuals in our larger party to spot us peeking (the chaperone 
didn't seem to care, what an age that was!).  We mostly marveled at the 
ability of us not-even-old-enough-to-drive types to investigate the 
magazine sex shops and to visit virtually any bar and, in a squeaky 
voice, order up a Heineken; which I didn't even like at the time.

Anyway, my father and two younger siblings visited another city while we 
went to Paris.  Upon arriving, my mother decided that she wanted to see 
the follies.  I was sixteen, my brother was fourteen.  Go to the Paris 
Follies?  With my MOTHER?  This was NOT going to be about art, that much 
I knew.  But in search of entertainment during a very short visit, she 
procured tickets and "dragged" us to the Follies.  In addition to the 
many naked or semi-naked beautiful women, the real signature image I 
remember was of a women suspended in air by cables, with legs spread 
wide, being lowered slowly but surely onto a brass dildo (boy, did the 
spot lights shine off that thing!) that was protruding from some type of 
cushioned piece of furniture.  And my mom was right next to me.  I 
assumed she enjoyed it.  My hard-on kept me from thinking about anyone 
else.

Well, after THAT what could a sixteen year-old boy do?  Later that night 
in the hotel room, could I hold back from masturbating this unbearable 
stimulation away until some more convenient time?  You see, the damn 
fleabag hotel room we got on short notice only had one bed.  Mom was in 
the middle.  I tried to be discrete, but how discrete can you be?  She 
had to know, but said nothing.  What a mom.  No, she did not help, and 
NO, I'm not making this up.

Anyway, back on the east coast, I completed my last two years of high 
school.  Finally, in my senior year, I met a girl and the inhibited one 
inside of me was gagged and bound long enough for me to ask her out to a 
fall dance.  And, after that, I was off to the races.  My mom did not 
school me or give me advice.  But knowing the "helper" that she is, and 
the busybody that she can be, especially about more spicy topics, it 
might not have been from lack of want on her part.  It was just that I 
was busy as hell: night job in a restaurant, early mornings to get to 
school, and after-school days spent at the girlfriend’s house supervised 
and feeling chained up and domesticated.  What had I compromised to get 
into this girls panties?  Probably a lot, but I did get into them, and 
slowly turned a love-crazed sixteen year-old into a sexually lust-crazed 
"woman." 

I remember when I finally convinced my girlfriend by just doing it that 
eating her pussy would produce pleasure beyond her comprehension.  One 
night I came home bleary eyed and desperately in need of going to bed (no 
alcohol was involved).  My face was literally covered with the girl's 
pussy juice.  Literally covered, and still a tad damp.  My mother's lamp 
was still on in her room.  My dad was fast asleep (he had a day job that 
started early).  My mom was reading.  She called to me as I tried to 
discretely walk through the hall on the way to my room.  I went to their 
bedroom door.  She said she was glad I was home and told me to come over 
and kiss her good night.  ACK!  Panic immediately set in.

"No mom, if it's alright with you, I'm tired.  Another time."

"Dan, come over here and give your mother a kiss good night."

"Uh, no mom."

"Yes Dan.  Come HERE!"

Sigh.  "Ok, Mom." You asked for it, I thought.

I still shake with laughter over that one.  She didn't say anything.  I 
have no idea what if anything she noticed.  But, as I found out years 
later in more than one "TMI" event, she could be a bit more randy 
thinking in her observations and thoughts.

And then there was college and other glory days.  But, as Bruce 
Springsteen says, they're just boring stories anyway.

So, fast forward to years later.  I'm married with young kids.  So is my 
brother.  My family and I are visiting my brother's house with all 
cousins playing happily somewhere else.  The adults are at the dinner 
table finishing a dinner conversation laced with the usual plentiful 
wine.  My mother is among us, the mother and grandmother in all her 
glory.  We are all mid thirty-somethings.  She's in her late fifties.  
The conversation gets mildly sexual.  My brother can't help himself and 
relates some apocryphal story about the highly popular "Marriage and 
Family" course that was taught at the university he attended.  The story 
supposedly has the instructor going through the details of the contents 
of seminal fluid.  The instructor mentions some "ingredient" or another 
that is in the seminal fluid.  Some ditzy coed supposedly blurts out 
something like "is that why it tastes like that?" And the table cuts up.  
My wife laughs (nervously, looking at me with shifty eyes).  My brother, 
the story teller, laughs but looks awkward when the one laughing the 
hardest is none other than our mother.  I chuckle in a perfunctory way 
but the inhibited one inside of me wants to crawl under the table.

But that's just the beginning.  My brother and his wife at the time were 
trying to have a second child (they eventually do so, not long before 
they get divorced!).  Given my brother's profession, this posed certain 
problems of timing.  My mother goes off the deep end and recommends that 
her daughter- in-law gather samples from her husband and use a turkey 
baster to finish the job at the most opportune time.  Yeah, right mom.  
If I'm paying child support, the turkey baster isn't going to have the 
fun.  My wife is laughing again and looking at me like "hey, it's YOUR 
mother!" Neither of us can imagine HER mother making that suggestion.

Fast forward to another day and time.  I can't remember the exact 
attendance, but we are at my parents’ home.  I think my wife is with me.  
I think both my brothers are there, but I could be mistaken.  It is a 
pleasant, relaxed evening.  We are in the kitchen with either pre- or 
post-dinner putzing around going on.  Again mild but continuous social 
drinking has left everyone free thinking and loose tongued.  Somehow, my 
mother gets to describing the "tittering" that I mentioned earlier.  This 
gossip was pervasive in the close nit group of young adults that formed 
the "business units" in my dad's original profession.  This is the 
"tittering" that was above my pay grade when I was a kid.  So, mom starts 
to talk.  And she decides that we don't fully appreciate that she harbors 
truly above average gossip, not just "who was fucking whom" way back when 
with people we couldn't even remember.  No, she had to bring out the 
timeless stories.  

Like the young wife who spent many days and nights alone or in the 
company of the other wives because the nature of the job took the 
husbands away for days on end.  She had a dog.  A male dog, my mother 
says.  Now, I'm starting to think I need to head downstairs for a cold 
brew before we get to the punch line.  Fortunately, the punch line landed 
slightly below the mark I thought she was going to set.  The young wife, 
it seems, would feel sorry for the un-neutered dog, and masturbate it to 
completion.  With my mother shaking with laughter on recounting this 
story from long ago in front of her adult children and at least one 
daughter in law, I decided to take control of the situation before we got 
to the REALLY good stuff, whatever that might be.

"MOM!  TMI!!!"

Ok, so you asked.  Satisfied?

Love, 
Dan

P.S.  I had a long chat with Heather.  I'll let you in on the log as soon 
as I get a chance.  Got to go to bed now.


Chapter 3 - Lusting For My Daughter's Friends
=============================================

You can't imagine how hot some of these sweeties are.  But the two that 
are hottest to me aren't so because they're the little Britney Spears of 
the teams in looks, but because they just ooze lusty personalities.  I'll 
work on it.

Those two girls are sultry.  Black hair, with the older one having an 
olive- colored skin that gives her a sort of "year round tan" look.  The 
younger one is thirteen, same as Amanda.  The older one is fifteen, same 
as Cheri.  The younger is Crystal while the older one is Debbie.  Debbie 
always seems to wear shorts highlighting her gorgeous legs and one of 
those yarn ankle bracelets that beach-hip hotties like.

Crystal is moody and boiling with sexual emotion.  She's boy crazy as 
observed by my wife during carpooling trips.  When one of her teammates 
in the carpool, who knows the older boy she lusts for, told her "he 
doesn't even know you exist, he's going out with such and such..." 
Crystal went bonkers screaming "NO!  HE'S MINE!" My wife said it was all 
she could do to stay on the road while laughing.  I wasn't there, but 
that just confirmed my impression of her from being around her for a good 
period of time.

Do I masturbate about those girls?  Strange, but not really.  They are 
both kinda shy around me and so I don't have a "playmate" fantasy going 
with them.  Some of my fantasy's about girls and groups of girls that age 
are pretty nasty (which I'm building material from for a try at story 
writing soon) but these fantasies don't seem to have the real faces of 
those girls on them.

Now, one of Amanda's teammates that checked me out while standing in the 
doorway of my a hotel room recently at a tournament, well SHE was 
masturbation fantasy number one for a while.  Her name is Kari.  The 
almost pathetic leer on her face as her eyes went from my shoulders to my 
shorts and back again told me that this was one thirteen year-old girl 
with adolescent lust boiling inside, which I had largely missed before.  
But we're new to this team so I hadn't really had a chance to notice I 
suppose.  (What happened was that I opened the door to the knock with 
only short shorts on assuming that only Amanda would be there trying to 
get in but I was surprised to see two of her teammates hanging out with 
her at the doorway.  It had probably little or nothing to do with me, 
just the idea of a man's body there to be gawked at by a girl curious 
about such things.) But nothing more has happened with Kari, so it's 
faded a bit in my masturbation imagery.

Amanda and Cheri have played with Crystal and Debbie before on other 
teams, so I know them better and have a better impression of their 
personalities.  That's why they score higher on my hottie top ten list.


Chapter 4 - About My Daughters
==============================

Dear Kelly, 

Thanks for keeping me company Saturday night.  I enjoyed our chat.  When 
Cheri was leaving for school this morning, I pulled her aside very 
briefly and said simply "Hey, let's try not to give away that homework, 
no matter how persuasive those boys are.  They will only get more 
persuasive!" And then I gave her a reassuring hug and a kiss.  She 
laughed and said ok.

But I spent most of the weekend with Amanda and her team.  Attached is a 
cute shot of Kari (left) and Amanda on Saturday.  The day was sunny, warm 
and beautiful.  Typical early October around here.  That's what I had 
just finished experiencing when you complained about the cold.  Guess 
what?  I was too smug.  By the next morning, a nasty storm blew in and it 
was raining continuously with a cool blustery wind all damn day.  The 
second image is what our sideline looked like.  Yuck!  If it makes you 
feel any better, I had to stand in that all day.

But, I'm sure your more interested in the first image.  I posed it for 
you, so you could "meet" Kari.  But when my wife saw it last night, she 
thought it was real cute.  They both look so innocent and sweet (and they 
are).  But imagine Kari's brace-filled smile turned into a leer with her 
eyes popping out.  That's what I saw.  Previous experience long-ago with 
my high school girl friend's 13 yo sister reminded me how this age can 
be.  One minute, they're playing like children.  The next minute, it's 
total lust.  They haven't figured out how to be coy yet, so it's like 
they're wearing it on their sleeve.  Not like when they get to be 18; 
then they make the boys crack the veneer.

One more thought.  I know you like Cheri's looks, and there is no doubt 
that she is the stereotypical blond, blue-eyed beauty.  And she does get 
picked on at home for having "blond moments" even if she doesn't really 
have many.  But as I told you the twins have their own advantages.  Case 
in point.  This past Sunday.

It's early afternoon.  Amanda and I are huddled in a Starbucks between 
games trying to get warm.  She had just ordered and I had just moved to 
the counter to order myself.  Amanda is in a soccer uniform, not anything 
hot.  Behind the counter are two 30-something petite women, both rather 
attractive.  The usual Starbuckians I'm sure, with their progressive 
political beliefs safely consistent with the employee selection policy.  
But they ARE cute.  So, I'd be happy for small talk if any opportunity 
arises.  Sure enough, one of them looks at me and says "Is that your 
daughter?  Are you her father?"

I was a bit surprised by that line.  The place was nearly empty and we 
were the only ones in line.  It seemed kind of obvious to me, but hey, I 
realize anything's possible.  I said "why yes."

Then she goes, "Well, you do realize that she is very beautiful?  I'll 
bet you have to keep the chains on!"

Chains?  Hey Ms.  progressive Starbucks employee, this is the twenty 
first century.  Haven't you read Kelly's diary?

Ok, I didn't say that.  I did say "Thank you.  Believe it or not, she has 
a twin, and a fifteen year-old sister."

The next line from her reset my opinion.  "Oh my, you MUST struggle every 
month!" 

Huh?  Did I just hear you right, Ms. 30-something, open minded, can say 
anything to anyone-even strangers-counter woman?  Are you now suggesting 
what it might be like to live in a household with three teenage daughters 
having their periods?  Does the Starbucks employee training manual cover 
tips for expressing customer empathy?  Like "Always offer sympathy to a 
dad with a house full of menstruating teenage girls." What a company.  
They think of everything.

But I'd rather have a discount.

When I told my wife about this conversation later that night after 
climbing in bed, she shook with laughter.  She had no doubt that that's 
what the woman was getting at.  I told my wife that I had wanted to reply 
while pointing at my neck "You should see her in heels, legs up to here."

But I didn't.  I just said "It doesn't bother me.  I'm ok with this 
growing up thing.  It's fun.  A great age." 

So the counter woman asked Amanda, who was now listening while messing 
with the whip cream in her hot chocolate, "How old are you honey?"

Amanda says "I'm thirteen."

The woman and her colleague, who's been listening in, look at me with 
surprise on their faces.  The woman says "really?" 

I nodded yes.  I knew why she was surprised.  Amanda is 90% in height 
among girls her age, and is already taller than many grown women.  She's 
a natural athlete with a model's body.  That's probably what attracted 
the woman's attention in the first place, even through a soccer uniform.

So, that's the latest story fresh off the press.  All true, as usual.  
Never dull around here.

I'm looking forward to chatting again.

Ciao, 
Dan


Chapter 5 - My "Playmate" - Part 1
==================================

Dear Kelly, I knew I had a lot of self-examination to do when I read the 
following embedded in a chat with somebody else: 

From:    Jonathan Holland <jonholland71@yahoo.com>  
To:      all_for_girls_dr@yahoo.com  
Date:    Thursday, January 15, 2009, 2:08 PM  
Subject: Re: sex life 

Dear Heather,

Yes, I know you're right.  The last time we were intimate she just 
happened to get up really early (5 am.?) and I hadn't gone to bed yet.  
The bigger thing is that there is a disconnect and has been for a long 
time.  There's  never been anything dramatically wrong with us, no 
infidelity (physically), no abuse or anything but a lot of the time there 
isn't a lot right with our  relationship either.  I put "physically" 
there because we have both been emotionally unfaithful but it never 
involved actual physical sex.  I'm not sure how much difference that 
makes.  I know we can do better with our love life but my heart is tepid.  
She is a good person and has many fine qualities.  I do think well of 
her.

Things aren't bad but I know I hold back some.  It's gotten to be a 
comfortable place for me.  Heather is supposedly “counseling” Jonathan 
and in the process he admits what most of us married types hardly ever 
admit.  That each of us make some effort to find people other than our 
“significant others” to give us evidence of our own self-worth.  And I 
don’t mean a pat on the back or a little email of encouragement.  I mean 
participating in the well-known, tried and true mechanisms of sexual 
exploration.  Some know it by its common name: “flirting.” 

But that is too simple of a description for the vast array of 
possibilities.  Certainly, everyone seems to know that flirting of some 
kind is going on regardless of marital status.  Ask a wife, any wife, and 
she’ll trot out plenty of examples.

Or ask Ian Kerner, a sex therapist and relationship counselor with a 
regular column on MSNBC.  He wrote an article posted on September 23, 
2009 on the subject of internet infidelity.  Here’s his professional 
definition: “Emotional infidelity often takes the form of a flirty 
friendship with someone of the opposite sex, in which many of the 
characteristics of a sexual relationship are present, but without the 
sex.  At least, for the moment.”  So what?  Aren’t we getting a bit 
sensitive?

Splitting hairs, maybe?  Consider this piece of advice from Kelly 
herself: “For guys who “prowl” the malls and think young girls are coming 
on to them, think again.  I was interested in their ATTENTION, not sex.” 
Ok, then attention of a certainly sexual nature is ok, right?  Does it 
become not ok when or if it becomes sex?  Depends, of course.  If one or 
both (or, shit, however many there are) of the partners are having sex 
but are married to someone else, well society says that’s bad.

Society says this in a lot of different ways, but not necessarily through 
criminal penalties (as long as they are consenting adults, of course).  
If one of those participants is below the legal age of consent, well 
then, it might even get criminal.  But why is attention, rather than sex, 
the intent of this flirtation?

Kelly again: “As I got older I noticed boys – and men, looking at me in 
ways they hadn’t before.  It made me feel good when they did and so I 
would try to dress and act in ways that drew their attention more.  I was 
interested in their ATTENTION, not sex.  I teased because it boosted my 
ego and made me feel grown-up and mature, not with any intent to have sex 
with anyone.

Personally, I think parents should encourage their daughters to tease at 
this age to build their self-confidence and self-worth.” Sounds mighty 
logical, undeniable, even natural.  But does this process for validating 
one’s self-worth end?  Should it end right after “You may kiss the 
bride!”?  Or how about when delivering on Meatloaf’s formula for getting 
some by the glow of the dashboard lights: “I’ll love you to the end of 
time.”?  Does the need for this attention ever go away?  Is it realistic 
to assume that it should only be drawn, like funds from a bank account, 
from the account numbered “my” husband or wife?

Ian Kerner cites an expert in his field to warn those of us in 
relationships of the danger: “According to the late Shirley Glass, whose 
book ‘Not Just Friends’ still remains the classic treatise on the 
subject: ‘Emotional affairs are characterized by secrecy, emotional 
intimacy and sexual chemistry.  Emotional affairs can be more threatening 
than brief sexual flings.’”  Well, our culture often makes taboos out of 
such things.  Why not emotional affairs, too?  But making it taboo hardly 
changes the root causes, and thus may have little impact on people’s true 
behaviors.  Indeed, the taboo may make it MORE appealing, especially when 
secrecy is inherent to the process.

But what of the root causes?  “Needing emotional support” is something 
the ladies write about a lot.  If husbands always seem to be complaining 
about sex (or lack thereof), it seems equally so that wives are 
complaining about not getting enough emotional support.  Nobody’s 
perfect, but does everybody wait for perfection anyway, just in case it 
might show up tomorrow night in bed?  Do I need to answer that question?  
Isn’t it natural to go beyond our significant other for emotional support 
to validate our self-worth?  The whole concept of “family” is the obvious 
starting place for obtaining a huge amount of this daily need, which 
makes the “empty nest” syndrome no laughing matter.  I dread it myself.  
But with only a very few exceptions, the kind of emotional support that 
ministers to our sexual identity does not come from immediate family.

Kelly herself places long odds on this being the right approach for most 
people.  In fact, as many people know, the word “ego” was coined by Freud 
in response to his interest in individual perceptions of self-worth.  And 
he is often reported (rightly or wrongly) to have felt that sexual 
identity was the root of all self-worth.  Ego came from sexual neediness.  
It was a powerful idea at the time it was made.  Natural selection was 
the philosophy on the rise.  And obtaining sex was such a struggle in the 
natural world that it could not be separated from the human experience, 
we were told, regardless of countering religious ideas.  So do we all 
solicit some of that emotional support for our sexual identity from total 
strangers?

For most people this is the PREFERRED source.  After all, for the most 
part we select our sexual mates from the large pool of unrelated 
individuals.  That most of us don’t view our mates as strangers does not 
mean they didn’t, by necessity, start that way.  And the VERY FEW times 
that I have been literally picked up by strange women in bars (or at 
least they tried), I felt like I was being plucked from the “fuck a 
stranger” barrel.  A most bizarre feeling it was, the few times the 
experience washed over me.  And I rejected them all.  But why should it 
be unusual?  The speed of the plucking must have been the only reason it 
felt bizarre, because, after all, the idea is for the mate to start a 
stranger, and then become an ardent, and finally an intimate supporter of 
the other guy or gal.

Eventually, it is hoped it might even become unconditional love, which is 
more often reserved for offspring than it is for spouses.  The former 
were NEVER strangers, the latter by necessity started that way.  So, even 
after the selection has occurred, and the rings are on the fingers, the 
kids in the cribs, and joint bank account created, there is still this 
searching for sexual identity through the person of strangers.  A “study” 
reported on MSN sometime in the past stated what ought to be obvious: 
Women said they were more likely to be attracted to a man who clearly 
conveyed that he was attracted to the woman.  This explains why flirting 
is often mutual, but does it explain the motivation, the fuel if you 
will, for flirting?  No, the search for regular attention to the need for 
our sexual identities to be confirmed and validated seems to be the real 
motivation.

Perhaps a spouse can completely deliver on that need.  At least in the 
early stages of the relationship, that might be true.  But experience 
shows that over time in the average marriage, neither partner’s needs are 
fully met by the other.  Who is surprised by that?  We’re only human.  
But is flirting a violation of relationship rules?  Is there “harmless” 
flirting?  If so, when does it become harmful?  I’ll bet the average 
woman in a long-term relationship will guard the answer to that question 
carefully.  They seem to know it when it happens, and then there is hell 
to pay!  But the word “jealous” cannot be defined outside of the personal 
standard that triggers it.  For some, it’s a dangerously low standard.  
For many others secure in their relationships the bar is considerably 
higher.  It can be described by the popular wifely idiom “I don’t care 
where he gets hungry, so long as he eats at home.” But is this sometimes 
just the calm before the storm?  The naiveté that makes the irony of the 
betrayal seem that much more tragic?  And isn’t it true that many a 
relationship has been shattered, at least in the harmony of trust, 
because of the discovery of a “conspiracy” in progress that has not yet 
consummated itself with adulterous sex?  You bet your shorts, honey!!!

Ian seems to suggest that to avoid this disaster, you can’t have ANY 
secrets: “As an example, I have one password for all of my various e-mail 
accounts and my wife knows what it is.  Does she ever use it?  I doubt 
it, but she’s welcome to sift through my e-mails anytime she likes.  
That’s what trust is all about: having nothing to hide and being able to 
respect each other’s privacy.  One can’t exist without the other.” So, 
the question becomes, when are those that do not condone something guilty 
of hypocrisy nonetheless because they are participating in a process that 
may lead to what is not condoned?

To borrow an analogy from an unrelated struggle in the Baptist 
denomination, when does a religious conviction against the consumption of 
alcohol become compromised beyond repair?  The first sip of wine?  After 
the entire glass?  How about half the bottle?  Or maybe opening a bottle 
and serving it to your non-Baptist friends at a Christmas or New Year’s 
party, but not drinking any yourself?  Just when is it no longer ok?  You 
have to be a little older to remember from firsthand experience the day 
President Jimmy Carter made headlines for “admitting” to having lusted in 
his heart.  This set the country in a tizzy.  Did this mean all of us 
were to be ashamed, like the president, for flirting?  How about looking 
at that gorgeous set of tits on that secretary that just can’t seem to 
come to work without the slut clothes on?  Watch out!  Don’t look if 
you’re wearing a ring!  (I once had to deal with a situation not unlike 
this with my employees.  It was painful and no fun.

I heard the gossip that some of my employees thought I hired her to fuck 
her.  My wife even told one of them that “My husband is not fucking that 
tramp.” I’m glad she was right!) What were we to make of this leader of 
ours?  Were we to follow his example?  Not follow it?  Why did it have to 
be so confusing?  Maybe it would have helped for the country to have 
actually read the longer excerpt of what Carter was quoted by Playboy 
Magazine to have said: “Because I'm just human and I'm tempted and Christ 
set some almost impossible standards for us.

The Bible says, "Thou shalt not commit adultery." Christ said, I tell you 
that anyone who looks on a woman with lust has in his heart already 
committed adultery.  I've looked on a lot of women with lust.  I've 
committed adultery in my heart many times... This is something that God 
recognizes, that I will do and have done, and God forgives me for it.  
But that doesn't mean that I condemn someone who not only looks on a 
woman with lust but who leaves his wife and shacks up with somebody out 
of wedlock.

Christ says, ‘don't consider yourself better than someone else because 
one guy screws a whole bunch of women while the other guy is loyal to his 
wife.  The guy who's loyal to his wife ought not to be condescending or 
proud because of the relative degree of sinfulness.’ “ Not any less 
confusing, perhaps, but neither are the notions of free will, original 
sin, and forgiveness only within the context of Christ’s delivery of 
salvation.  One makes one’s owns standards, I suppose, and then makes up 
their own mind to live within them.  The consequences may be both earthly 
and divine, but we will face them whatever they are.

Kelly appears to agree: “These are the principles that guide my 
behaviors.  I am not trying to judge or condemn anyone for cheating on 
their wives - indeed some of my favorite guys to chat with are doing 
exactly that!” This leads to her flexibility in declaring what she is and 
is not condoning when it comes to adultery: “Understand that I define 
"sex" as the physical mating of a male and female  (insertion of a penis 
into my vagina to be technical) so that leaves a lo open!  Now before 
anyone writes me to complain, once again you have to  remember that I do 
not consider incest to be "cheating".  After all, I am  the product of my 
parents' marriage and thus will always be a part of it.” Well, other than 
the little matter of the law, and that most of the modern Western 
society’s’ moral codes defines this as a major taboo, well, beyond those 
minor matters, have at it Kelly!  Why not indeed?  I “have at it” on 
occasion, too.  It just doesn’t rise to the same level on the “wow” scale 
as Kelly.  But what of it?  Does that mean I shouldn’t feel shame 
nonetheless?  Or not, if it pegs as “harmless” on my personal meter?

In fact, to put me (and a lot of other people) squarely on the same limb 
as Kelly (just closer to the tree trunk, maybe) let me describe a couple 
of scenarios.  One left me feeling like I had let myself down, almost as 
if I had committed actual adultery (I didn’t).  And the other is almost 
comically harmless.  We’ll start with the “harmless” one, if Ian will 
grant me that assumption for the moment.  How about this little past time 
I’ve been enjoying for years in church?  It falls most closely to Kelly’s 
tease-in-the- mall game, but it proves that it can be a team sport.  I 
play the game with my “playmate.” I recall having had three or four over 
the past several years, one at a time.  It’s not important how many or 
whether they played the game exactly the same way.  After all, for me, it 
was about MY self-worth.  And it has never been the main event in my 
life.

To the contrary, even the opportunity to play the game comes and goes.  
And I don’t go to church for the game; I’m in church to satisfy the first 
commandment.  But, let’s be honest.  When I do have a playmate, oh do I 
look forward to playing!  So here’s the game.  I live in a college town.  
That means thousands upon thousands of young people come to live in my 
town every year and stay here until they graduate or leave short of that.  
Some attend services at my church, the vast majority do not.  So every 
year there are young ladies who show up for church service who are not, 
that I can tell, hooked up and certainly not married off.  Most of these 
young woman waste little time finding somebody.  Some came to this 
university because they already have somebody who came here (amazing how 
many of those flunk out).  But there is often one or more that for a 
combination of reasons, isn’t paired off.  Some of them seem more in need 
of validating their self-worth through habitual flirting than others.  
They’re the ones that seem to people watch more intently.  

Maybe in the process looking for someone looking at them.  Someone male.  
When you see this week after week, year after year, it’s really not that 
hard to spot, and then pick up a playmate.  I’ve never known the name of 
any of my playmates, and I only saw one of them outside of church.  That 
was at the university.  She was attending a class that I happened to be 
guest lecturing.

So to illustrate the game, let’s look at this past Sunday, 20 September 
2009.  In fact, I would never have thought to write about my game until 
this past Sunday.  Some, after reading this episode (assuming anyone 
other than me actually does!), may even sneer that it’s all in my mind.  
Well, there is no doubt about the reason why I play the game.  It’s 
because of what it does to my mind, not to my dick!  Having said that, 
the kind of content that Kelly’s Diary contains, and all of ASSTR for 
that matter, seems to make my game appear ridiculously innocent.  But, 
after the game went awry this Sunday, I realized it was worthy of 
recognition.  While my game is a very low level flirtation behavior, it 
seems to me to be every bit as representative of the larger game that so 
many take to sexual adultery.  Through thinking and then writing about my 
game, I saw much more clearly the motivation for adultery, and in 
particular Kelly’s pursuit of married men.

So, let’s walk through last Sunday.  As usual, I dropped the family off 
at the front of the church and headed for the parking lot.  As I came 
into the church, I headed for our likely outpost.  People are remarkably 
constant about their church seating.  Jokes are a plenty about unwritten 
seating assignments, etc.  My family is no different.  Actually, my 
father-in-law is more often than not the guy that anchors the family pew.  
And lately his choice is a back pew on the left center section.  To get 
there, I have to make a turn around a wall and then along the back pew.  
As I make the turn, I notice my family is in the spot that has fairly 
recently become “ours.” And, for the game to be played, the playmate must 
sit close by.  The playmate is also already seated, conveniently, right 
in front of my family.  How convenient, indeed.  Looks like we might 
“play” this morning!  I’m happy.

As I make the final turn to the entrance of the pew I start assessing my 
seating preference.  I could plop down right close to the entrance to the 
pew, sitting next to my daughter.  Playmate will be easy to see and be 
seen.  Or, I can step over a bunch of legs to slip into an open seat 
between my wife and an attractive Asian woman next to her.  The open 
space is not large, but not cramped either.  Lately, my thinking has been 
to make an effort to sit with my wife.  So, I decide to make the effort.  
Playmate looks up at me as I enter the pew.  I notice the look, but 
choose not to do my usual confirming look, with a slight smile usually 
added in.  I got legs and feet to avoid, so I defer the look.  I navigate 
the legs and feet and settle in next to my lovely wife.  She’s happy and 
I’m happy.  She’s questioned me in the recent past about why I seemed to 
avoid sitting next to her.  She’s noticed my behavior, especially now 
that the kids are older and the father-in-law moved us to a more 
accommodating location.  I know that the impact of an obvious change in 
my seating on the playmate was on my mind, but what could that be?  
Playmate’s a subtle flirt partner, NOT a mistress, right?  I have a lot 
more to gain by showering attention on my wife, and that is my plan going 
forward.

My wife knows that’s my intention, and she has even recently told me that 
she’s been enjoying the extra attention.  But we have 5 minutes or more 
to kill before the service begins.  Why not play a little with playmate 
if she’s willing to play?  She is.  With time to kill, people-watching is 
fun.  Playmate likes to watch the front.  It requires her to turn in her 
pew, twist her head and look.  I get involved when the head turns more 
and her eyes come my way.  Contrary to popular opinion, people do not 
have eyes in the back of their heads.  To look backwards takes effort.  
It’s obvious.  I try to reward the effort with a casual look directly in 
the eyes.  It happens every week.  I’m used to it.  I enjoy it.  I even 
look forward to it.

We study each other’s facial expression.  It sounds juvenile.  It 
probably is.  But even if I can’t read playmate’s mind, like the Alan 
Parson Project’s “Eye in the Sky,” I can sure read her face.  Anybody 
can.  Look at your emoticon menu.  It’s called body language.  People 
make a science out of it.  Playmate looks down, checking me out (hey 
playmate, there’s nothing done there but pants and shoes!).  Playmate has 
taught me why women always know when we’re looking at their tits.  It’s 
obvious.  But as I read on-line once, when looking at a woman that you 
want to FEEL you emotionally, always, ALWAYS, look her right in the eyes.  
That’s what I do.  She’s satisfied and turns back forward.  So far, so 
good.  As the service drags on, playmate scans back from time to time.  
Sometimes I try to catch her eyes, sometimes I ignore it.  Don’t want to 
creep her out.  It’s mild flirting, not staring.  Gotta discipline 
myself, sometimes, on the difference.

But, so far, it’s about typical.  We’re killing time supporting each 
other emotionally, however subtle and limited it might be.  I’m convinced 
it’s happening because I feel the support from her.  It’s fun for me.  
Isn’t it harmless, too?  But my wife is next to me.  There’s potential 
fun to be had with her too.  And this can be more explicit, less subtle.  
I look at her.  Nice cleavage in the cute black top.  She says she wears 
stuff like that for me.  I believe her.  And anyway, I like it.  I also 
like that she often wears that cute silver necklace that I bought for her 
in Greece.  The pearl plunges on a thin silver chain toward her cleavage.  
It’s sexy.  I lean over to her.  She leans over toward me expecting to 
hear a whispered comment on a routine topic.  Like “That’s too bad that 
George Forman’s 90 year old uncle died, what a tragedy!” Or “Is it just 
me, or is the Klaus’s teen daughter pregnant?”

Instead, I lean over and say “Sexy girl!” My wife’s head moves away with 
a twist of the mouth and an angle of the brow that says “why are you 
being naughty here?” You see, that’s a phrase I’ve been using during love 
making.  In recent memory, I can’t think of a time when I’ve said that to 
her outside of that context.  She thinks and then gives me a wily look.  
“You just like this top!” Knowing I’ve scored points, I added “Not just 
that, I love that necklace I bought you in Greece.  It looks great with 
that top.” She smirks at that and turns back toward the service.  Before 
I do the same, I take one more look at her and her pretty blond hair.  I 
know I have one more intimate, insiders, factoid to use.  You see, I know 
that she dyed her hair last night before coming to bed.  Only a husband 
would know that.  I lean back over to her.  “And anyway, every guy likes 
to sit next to a hot blond!” The irony of that insider’s joke is not lost 
on her.  She screws her head up with an open- mouthed gawk trying not to 
laugh out loud.  “Gotcha!” I think.

My own head twists the opposite direction and upward so that it’s 45 
degrees past the front in the opposite direction with my chin 15 or 30 
degrees above normal.  My mouth is twisted in a lecherous toothy grin.  
I’m enjoying the overt and intimate exchange with my wife, especially 
because we are ignoring, however briefly, our pious duty to worship, not 
mess around!  It’s not quite Kelly’s antics in church, but hey, everyone 
has their own thing.  In my peripheral vision as my head swivels to this 
un-natural position I spot playmate’s head shaking around.  What’s that?  
A double hair flip!  I hadn’t seen one of THOSE since that bar in Panama 
City!  Hmmm, what’s that about?  I see her head has turned to the “look 
at me” position.  In my slowly ebbing remaining mirth, I decide to swivel 
my head back to normal and catch her thoughts.  As I settle on her eyes, 
still with a hint of smirk on my face, I realize that playmate is not 
going to look away.  Wow, looks like playmate is getting almost reckless.  
So am I, I decide.

I lock her gaze and read her face.  It’s not the normal slack faced 
receiver of attention.  No, not at all.  What do I see?  Jealousy?  No, 
not quite that.  Reproach?  Yes, that’s it.  Reproach.  I’m being 
scolded!  How do I know?  The furrow of the brow, I decide, that’s it for 
sure.  “Ha!” is my initial reaction.  Now I see one of the advantages of 
the game: Nothing verbal.  That’s right, playmate, only my wife can rip 
me a new one verbally.  Finally, she breaks and slowly returns to face 
the front and the service.  The game, I sense, is over for now.  It’s not 
unusual as the service continues into the complexity of the various rites 
for the game to peter off anyway.

But now I realize that playmate is off line.  It seems as a result of the 
event.  But what did she take so personally, I wonder?  Before 
discovering Kelly’s Diary, I may never have had a clue.  After all, if 
she can’t verbally scold me, then I sure can’t ask her what’s bothering 
her, now can I?  But I think I have at least a plausible hypothesis.  
Kelly’s motivation for her affairs with married men is my clue:

“Some of my hottest fantasies and experiences have involved married   
men.  I love the feeling I get knowing that I am sexy and desirable   
enough that a man wants me so bad that he will forsake his vows to his 
wife and risk his career and marriage just to have me for a few hours.”

Could it be true, in a much more sedate way, with playmate, too?  Is 
playmate not just interested in getting flirtatious attention from me, 
but to PROVE it’s real, could she actually expect it to come at the 
expense of the attention I give to my wife?  I thought about my seating 
arrangement controversy that had worked its way out over the last couple 
of months.  For years, my father-in-law and my children pretty much 
choreographed our seating arrangements.  But recently, with my kids often 
busy playing a role serving in the service and having otherwise matured, 
they were to the point where they were just as happy to let my wife and I 
sit together.  No, they have not “disowned” us, it’s just that they can 
sit around their grandfather and do not have to surround my wife.  But, 
then there was the influence of granddad’s seating choice.

For a reason not important here, he usually selected a favorite spot that 
when the tail-end-Charlie (me) arrived from the parking lot it always 
left me with a choice of my usual opposite end of the family seating 
(meaning not next to my wife) or falling off the end of the pew but next 
to the wife.  I had been happy to take the opposite position, and 
playmate was usually sitting where we could play.  If truth be known, I 
liked it better that way because I thought I was pretending to be 
“available.” Meaning unattached.  How ridiculous!  Plenty of people in 
that church had seen my kids baptized as infants and knew my wife well.  
Nobody thinks I’m unattached in that place.  Not even playmate.  But I 
was thinking like a man, not like an intelligent person.

It did not occur to me that I may have been communicating to playmate a 
lack of desire to give my wife attention, and that maybe, just maybe, she 
liked that.  One person whom it was not lost on was my wife.  She had 
started to jibe me gently about not sitting with her.  And when the kids 
started to make that less of an ordeal, she would say things like “Do I 
get to sit with my husband?  Wow, isn’t that nice.” And jazz like that.  
I got the message.  And frankly, I enjoyed the desire on her part for a 
little attention from me.  Who wouldn’t?  But, I had the falling off the 
end of the pew thing going, and I had playmate.  So, I made a fuss about 
the end of the pew thing.  She became aware of my problem with that and 
cut me some slack because fixing it meant moving her father and my kids 
down the pew after they had settled in.  She didn’t want to stir the 
nest.

I eventually did.  I started making them get up and move down to give me 
some room.  Does that sound like a mountain out of a mole hill?  Maybe 
so, but you’d think I had come in and stirred up a hen house.  The hens 
were clucking and feathers were flying.  The jokes about “I lost my warm 
spot” started to get old.  Finally, my father-in-law decided that we 
should move.  The reason for sitting there in the first place had gone 
away (another unrelated story).  He could afford to move us.  So, we 
moved.  Not far, just down the same pew, whenever squatters hadn’t 
already claimed our new seats.  The new location was opposite of where 
playmate usually sat.  And it eliminated the end of the pew problem for 
me (whether I liked it or not!).  That’s why my only issue now was 
climbing over legs and feet to get to the spot next to my wife.

After our move became “official” in the eyes of the people that pay 
attention to that stuff (took a week or two), I noticed a curious thing.  
Playmate moved too.  Hey, way to go playmate!  I love you too!  Well, at 
least I love our game.  That’s why when I walked into the church and made 
the turn to our “new” spot last Sunday, September 20, I was pretty sure 
that playing the game was a possibility.  Playmate’s seat allowed me to 
play the game sitting at the end next to my daughter or the other end 
next to my wife.  I chose to sit next to my wife and braved the legs and 
feet.  As ridiculous as it may seem, that was my decision making process 
as I approached the entrance to the pew.  I could play the game AND sit 
next to my wife.  Sounded optimal to me.

But I hadn’t counted on the “reaction” from playmate.  That caught me 
unprepared.  It would still be a mystery to me if I hadn’t at least 
thought about the parallels between this and Kelly’s motivation for 
fucking married men.  Strange.  Maybe very strange.  The reader of this, 
assuming somebody reads this other than me, may be shaking their head.  
“What bullshit.” But I was there.  It didn’t look like bullshit to me.  
Maybe the game is over.  Maybe playmate will move to the other side of 
the church.  If she does, well, I understand.  I’m going to keep sitting 
here.  We’ll see.  I decided to see if I could make it up to playmate.  
Near the end of the service, we have a ritualistic greeting to your 
nearest neighbors.  I’ve always enjoyed it because you get to greet the 
hotties as well as the suits.

In the past, it did seem to bother playmate a little when I gave my wife 
a peck on the lips instead of the handshake for everyone else.  But not 
enough to end the game or even to get a “scolding” by “emoticon” from 
playmate.  This time, given her proximity, I made a special effort to 
greet HER.  I went straight for the eyes.  She accepted my look, and we 
held it almost noticeably too long.  It was a pretty slack face I looked 
into.  The reproach was gone.  But in its place I thought I read “I’m not 
sure I trust you” impassiveness.  I tried to offer an apology by body 
language; as difficult and as improbable as that might sound.  It helped 
being able to hold her hand.  The fact that she accepted my look, right 
hard in the eyes and held it, told me there was hope yet for the game.  
We’ll see next week!  If you’ll accept my story as real and don’t vomit 
from its juvenile character, then let me ask you: Is this kind of 
emotional infidelity harmless?  That to me is the interesting question.

Ian Kerner might not agree that it’s totally harmless: “The No.  1 danger 
of Internet infidelity is not that it could lead to actual sexual 
infidelity, but that it so easily diverts precious emotional resources 
away from one’s core relationship.” When I was a much younger man, and 
thought women think like men, I would have ridiculed that assertion.  
But, I have to admit the feeling that it may have happened to me, even if 
just a tiny bit.  And it was not just me feeling that way.  Remember, my 
wife and I had a rather involved (but friendly) multi-week go around 
about sitting together in church, and I knew that at least one reason was 
my concern about the impact on playmate and our game.  If I had told her 
about that, I’m sure she would have thought about having me committed.  
But, hey, I KNOW what was going through MY mind.

You see, I thought sitting with my wife would hurt my “relationship” with 
playmate even if I thought it would for almost certainly the wrong 
reason.  It didn’t at first.  It didn’t really matter that I was sitting 
next to my wife, because we often played the game anyway.  As late as 
this last Sunday, in fact, we were still playing the game.  That is, 
until I made the “mistake” of showing playmate that my wife and I would 
share a very intimate moment in front of her, even if she did not know 
what it was about.  It was just too obvious that we were sharing soul 
satisfying emotional support, and playmate perceived it coming at her 
expense.  At least, that is what I think.  I may never know for sure.  
Maybe I should be committed for believing it, but I don’t think so.  I 
would never have written about this episode in the absence of the above 
lesson, experienced by me in person this last Sunday.  It’s so innocent.  
How could it possibly rate mention among experienced ASSTR readers used 
to getting their kicks from stories about fucking five year olds?

Well, none of that here, but that’s beside the point.  In my mind, and 
maybe with a trained professional like Ian Kerning to back it up, I began 
to wonder if maybe, just maybe, Kelly’s short flings with married men, 
terminated habitually after one fuck like some black widow spider, might 
be “less harmful” than my almost imperceptible emotional infidelity.  It 
sounds incredible to me to write that last sentence.  I’m not sure I even 
believe it yet.  But I can see that it could be true, if continued to the 
necessary level.  So what of another episode, a long time ago, that STILL 
did not produce sexual adultery, but that left me emotionally scarred 
over my behavior?

Well, that’s next.


Chapter 6 - My "Playmate" - Part 2
==================================

On the follow-up with playmate this morning, guess what?  She was "off 
line" no ifs ands or buts.  Funny, really.  I gave her a chance when she 
was reading off her neighbor's bulletin.  I know she saw me in her 
peripheral vision.  But with a slight uptick in her cheek ("I caught 
you"), she turned back away.  I know that meant "No!  Game over!"

No big deal.  In writing about the whole thing to you, I kind of decided 
I was investing too much emotional capital in the game for what I was 
getting.  If I invested that with my wife, man, what could I reap?  So I 
worked my wife this morning while getting ready for church.  And she 
rewarded me by dressing up the way I like.  Hey, bigger bang for the buck 
at home!  I rewarded her by not missing an opportunity to compliment her 
and tell her what I liked.  Life's simpler than I used to think.

But, playmates abound.  I tailgated all day yesterday (great party).  Got 
to watch myself.  If I get emotionally sucked in, I'm afraid I could be 
toast with respect to maintaining my marital fidelity.  Gack!  Don't want 
to mess up!

The "playmate" I mentioned is a recent development brought about by my 
personality change I've been trying to affect.  Three weeks ago I went to 
the first tailgate of the season armed with a firm desire to keep the 
"inhibited one" gagged and bound so that my uninhibited side could steer 
the ship for a while.  Armed with a few truisms gleaned from the internet 
(like "always look ‘em right in the eyes") I was determined to make the 
best of it.  But truisms aren't enough, of course.  So it wasn't until I 
discovered your website and read the "about me" section that I started 
truly feeling uninhibited verbally.  What did you teach me that made this 
possible?  Well that women are not inhibited beings requiring tea and 
crumpet polite conversation with men.  I should say what I FEEL about 
them and trust they will take it the right way, as long as I'm being 
genuine and not creepy.

One of the organizers of the tailgate is a good friend of mine from a 
business in town that he works at ("Robert").  He's divorced with grown 
up kids and is around my age.  He says that his wife divorced him when he 
took the job here cause she didn't want to move from where they were 
living (I wouldn't suggest that's the whole story, but I don't know any 
more).  Since then, he crows about the great life he's having courting 
women both in town and elsewhere.  He likes a girl in every port, it 
seems.  One of my female friends that is a coworker likes to bash him 
over that, but he says he's having a good time.  He does have to manage 
the out-of-towners so that invitations to visit during a party weekend, 
like last Labor Day weekend (college football opening day) don't cause 
conflicts.  Rough life.  That weekend was Silvy.

My father-in-law took my second ticket but didn't want to go to the 
tailgate.  That left me unescorted.  When I walked up to the tent most of 
the people I already knew and so I settled in with my first beer relaxing 
among friends.  I was introduced to Silvy, who I saw as an older women 
(my age or less) with an attractive face and hair, a lose tee-shirt and 
rather tight Capri pants on.  She is not a tall woman so she could curl 
up in a fold-out chair which is how I met her.  It was awhile before I 
even tried a modest conversation with her and at first it was just get-
to-know-you chatter.  She was pleasant but rather impassive while talking 
to me.  But there was plenty to do and say with others around the tent 
and I kept drinking beer prior to leaving for the game nearby.  At half 
time I noticed that they were letting people back in with their ticket 
stub.  It's official policy not to allow that because most people are 
leaving to return more liquored up than when they left.  That was my 
reason initially for leaving.  I went to the tent and the crowd of none 
game goers.  About equal guys and girls were sitting around cutting up 
about the sorority hotties trying to walk around the soft grass in 5 inch 
heels.  Silvy was with them because her "boyfriend" Robert went to the 
game and left her outside, for whatever reason.

I sat down next to her and starting talking more directly with her and 
about her.  I noticed that she has large tits, and that they were 
supported by some kind of sexy bra that left them floating, but she had 
that loose tee on that told me that she saw this as a casual party, not a 
see-and-be-seen cocktail event (unlike thousands of college sluts 
strutting about the commons) and that she did not want to defined by her 
tits hangin out.  Her tight capris, however, showed off a nicely sculpted 
pair of thighs and an ass that is not small, but is very shapely.  For 
some reason it struck me what button she wanted pushed, and so I pushed 
it.

"Silvy, I hope you don't mind me saying, but your figure is awesome.  
You're legs are so shapely."

"Without breaking her expression she looked me right in the eyes and said 
"they should for the amount of working out in the gym I do."

Since that's been my kick lately (and I'm heading in the right direction 
with weight loss, abdomen and upper body form) I knew exactly how she 
felt: Pride that she gets results from her hard work and appreciation for 
a guy noticing and SAYING so.  Man, this was just too easy.

All I was really after was a pleasant conversation and an attempt to 
exchange attentions for self-worth building.  And here was modest 
success.  It was time to return to the stadium for the second half, so I 
said "hale and farewell" to everyone but I turned to her and for some 
reason it possessed me that the thing to do was to hug Silvy good bye.  I 
did and she did not hesitate to participate.

After the game the hardcore partiers returned to the tent to finish the 
evening.  I talked with Silvy some, but then got into a long conversation 
about marriage with two of Robert's coworkers that dragged on into the 
night.  Then Robert and Silvy started moving around to break the tailgate 
down and as Silvy passed by me stepping over stuff, I felt her hand 
shimmy around my waist and then she goosed me down the ass.  Hey, I 
thought, that was interesting.

In the past, the inhibited one would have told me that I had imagined all 
that and that it was too risky to follow up with any assumptions that 
this was a sign from heaven.  But the uninhibited one was in control this 
night and HE took this as an initiation by a potential playmate.

We broke the tailgate down.  While Robert went to get his car to load the 
stuff into, Silvy and I found ourselves on the corner in the middle of 
the campus tailgate commons with thousands of people doing the same thing 
as us, but it was like nobody else was there.  I told her that I was 
sorry for neglecting her earlier so now she deserved a double helping of 
attention.  I felt her hand and arm sweep around my waist and I got 
treated to a full hug with both tits on the chest.  Yeah, that's usually 
good enough even for the inhibited one.  The uninhibited one was off to 
the races.

No need to go over the blather, what I remember of it anyway, but I 
poured it on about her.  She told me that she thought the female body is 
art (just like my mom had taught me all those years ago in San 
Francisco).  I might have suggested that her body, then, belonged in a 
museum, or some such stuff.  I wasn't trying to be corny, I was just 
continuing the prose that she had chosen; sort of the medium for us to be 
uninhibited about our thoughts about each other.  After this little 
exchange, in which I kept my eyes totally buried in hers the whole time 
(and NOT on her chest), she shook her head and blurted out what I really 
remember about the night.  She said:

"What have you been doing, reading books about what women want?!!"

I swear to God that is what she said.  I wanted to laugh and say "No, 
I've been reading Kelly's Diary!" 

I held off saying that and soon thereafter Robert showed up in his car.  
When they dropped me off at my car I said goodbye.  I swear she had such 
a quiet, almost forlorn, look on her face that I thought I could almost 
read her mind.  "Why are you letting me go home with this guy?"

Well, because I'm married and not to you.  And Robert is a good friend 
and your here by his invitation.  She knew all that and so they drove 
off.

Three weeks later, I was wondering if she would be at the tailgate 
yesterday.  The weather started atrocious so it ended up just being me, 
Robert, and another friend from Robert's employer.  But no Silvy.  I 
smelled a rat.  I didn't have long to catch him.

As we waited to greet the team, in the rain, he said without prompting 
from me: "I didn't let Silvy come to town this weekend.  I told her I 
wanted a male bonding party and that she was not invited."

I thought for a long moment.  Why would this guy cut his own dick out of 
a fun weekend?  I ain't screwing him, so what could us "men" be worth 
compared to fucking Silvy?  I carefully framed my response, having a 
hunch what he was really telling me.

"Well, Robert, tell Silvy I would have invited her to come."

He looked at me with a gamesmen like face and said "Oh, I know she would 
have too.  She kept saying 'I won't bother you Robert, I like talking to 
Dan, I'll just talk to him while you bond with the guys.'"

Ok, then, I felt better.  I wanted to tell him that in all likelihood if 
we found each other in a closet together, she wouldn't limit herself to 
talking.  I'm pretty confident of that and his admission pretty much 
removed the last doubt.

But he didn't want Mr.  "Reads-books-about-making-women-happy" throwing a 
wrench into his relationship.  Can't blame him.  He knows my wife quite 
well and so I'm sure he's also amused by what he sees as Dan's little end 
around game.

Me, I just wanted to spend some time with my new found playmate.  One 
that is much more comprehensive than the church playmates.  This "super" 
playmate I get to talk to, touch, and give emotional support for which I 
am getting a good return.  Why not?  I have no intention of fucking her.  
But I have to be careful because getting emotionally sucked in is really 
dangerous for me.  That is the moral of the story about my second episode 
for the marital infidelity commentary, which is still a work in progress.

She called Robert later and asked if I was there.  I teased Robert from 
time to time and I could see that he was enjoying the whole game.  I 
think he believes that he controls the game in the end by controlling 
when she is invited to come to town.  He seems to WANT to tease me and 
her so he can show me that he gets the woman in the end.  He told me that 
he had already conceded to her coming for a particular game in a few 
weeks.  I told him that my wife had already reserved that game for her 
one or two attendances per season (kids claim the rest going forward).  
He smiled like a guy holding the trump cards.

"That will work out perfect, Dan, that will work out perfect." I think he 
expects the shootout at the OK corral.

When I needled Robert by asking him to tell Silvy that I would be at the 
tailgate the next game weekend and would look forward to her joining the 
tailgate if she can make it, he said:

"Oh I will Dan, I will.  Actually, no I won't.  If I told her that she 
would be here for sure that weekend no matter what I said."

Based on the power of attention and emotional support that I had 
witnessed in just a few short hours on Labor Day weekend, I am certain 
that he was sincerely speaking the truth.

We are pretty good friends.  It just blows me away that we are messing 
around with this mind game.  But, I'm having too much fun to jump off the 
merry-go- round now.  I want to see where this leads.  But I had better 
be careful.

So, that's the story about the case of the "super playmate being held 
hostage by the boyfriend." Basically, what I just described is true, 
real, and happening to me now.  This all came about because I read your 
website and decided that the stories that I had always felt I should be 
ashamed of, despite liking them, were not to be taken that way at all.  
Instead, I should open my mind to the natural desires of real people, 
especially women who are so often portrayed by society as non-sexual 
beings without the interest to fantasize as intensely as men.  When the 
truth is revealed about women, and the early age that God himself sets 
for this transformation to fully sexual and even extremely lusty human 
beings, well, it's convinced me to throw my inhibitions to the wind.

I feel like I'm a better person for it.  I'm turning toward my wife and 
showering her with verbal expressions of love like I have never done in 
25 years of marriage.  Yes, this also brings forth a desire to think very 
nasty thoughts and to fantasize without limits.  Sometimes I even TRY to 
avoid limits, but only as long as I feel pleasure in the resulting 
fantasies.  I don't bother with them if they don't.  The latter behavior 
comes as naturally as the former behavior.  I'm no longer going to 
suppress either.  Period.

You may be interested in knowing what are fantasies and what are not.  
When I tell you that what you just read is true, well, it is.  The things 
I will tell you I WANT to do to those soccer teammates, those will be 
fantasies.  If you're interested, I'll write about those in the near 
future.

Probably more than you wanted to know.  Scream "TMI" if you wish.

Dan


Chapter 7 - Response to Kelly's Ethical Dilemmas
================================================

Note from Kelly:

I wrote up a series of situations that I actually have found myself in 
over the years as a result of publishing this web site.  This is what Dan 
sent me regarding them.  Do you agree with his analysis?

***************

#1 Dad and His Three year-old Daughter 
--------------------------------------

Dear Kelly,

Before I offer you my feelings on Dilemma 1, which you might be surprised 
to find to be rather supportive, I thought it would be a good idea to lay 
down some general ideas that bound my thought process for all my comments 
on the dilemmas.

First, "if I were you" is an unobtainable perspective.  I am not you, and 
if it were "me" AND I was as thoughtful as you by laying down in writing 
some personal principles to be guided by, well, they would be different 
personal principles, wouldn't they?  After all, you don't want a 
sycophant, do you?  For example, assume for the sake of argument that I 
was an interventionist Christian minister.  In the physical world, I 
would be use to walking some pretty tough streets; ministering to some 
pretty "lost" people; and regularly being confronted with behaviors 
outside the cultural norm as the cost of doing business.  These 
situations and these places are where Christ's message was ALWAYS the 
most powerful, even during Jesus' own ministry.  It would be no problem 
for such an interventionist minister to cruise your webpage.  For him, it 
might even be BETTER than cruising the streets because so much of your 
webpage is probably fantasy, not real.  But if a UK man was totally in 
your power of suggestion to the point that he was IN REALITY putting his 
cock up against her naked back, well that interventionist minister (if 
he/she was not corrupt that is) would surely advise you that if it had 
been HIM, he would not have provoked the father in the first place.  The 
reason is obvious: Because his ethical code was built on different moral 
foundations.

But I'm not an interventionist Christian minister!  I AM a life member of 
a very large Christian church, and I will gladly admit that the singular 
impact of Jesus' ministry on the history of the world leaves me almost 
breathless with awe.  But I ain't here to preach.  This translates into 
I'm not going to confuse your ethical dilemma with a moral dilemma.  Nor 
am I going to suggest that you HAVE a moral dilemma (well, maybe but only 
because you seem to, see the last paragraph).  After all, you are 
exotically and erotically intoxicating because you make it clear in your 
webpage the firm notion that you are a sincere believer in a Christian 
church.  My God!  Isn’t this better than sex?  I would say I am a sincere 
believer, too.  But does that mean I live by the Church’s teaching 
without question?  No, I do not.  For example, is it a sin that my wife 
and I have always practiced artificial birth control?  I found it ironic 
that in church today, the gospel reading and the homily was devoted to 
the difference between the rules of an earthly religious institution, and 
those of God (Mathew Chapter V).  So am I in the holier than thou 
position of living to someone else’s external moral code without 
exception?  Nope.  And thus for the sake of discussion (but not 
necessarily action, by the way) I WILL NOT hold you to any particular 
moral standard.  After all, I'm reading your web page and lovin it: Who 
am I to preach?  

Before I was married, I was as promiscuous as my conflicted 
inhibited/uninhibited personality would permit.  When the head on the 
third leg took over, the uninhibited self did well in the seduction role 
(before I was in a monogamous relationship with my future wife, that is).  
Does that make me a slut before marriage?  I guess so.  It is even more 
ironic that when I was deep in thought about all of this last night I 
walked through the living room where my girls were watching an episode of 
“House” (they are addicts).  The show must be based exclusively on sexual 
themes because, even though I have never watched an entire episode, 
whenever I walk through the living room the sexual nature of the plot, 
and most sub plots, always seem to jump out at me through the dialog.  
This time what caught my attention?  A quick sound bite from Dr.  House: 
“Yesterday’s slut is today’s empowered woman!” Ok, Ms.  Wells, I guess 
you are an empowered woman!!!

So, what's the point?  Easy, an "Ethical Dilemma" assumes rules have been 
chosen by the individuals expected to live up to the ethics.  At least to 
the extent that it is practical to do so.  For example, in a republican 
democracy we not only delegate rule making (i.e., to elected officials), 
but then submit to majority rule.  And when joining a profession, we 
might accept, or even feel forced to accept, the professional rules of 
conduct because we want to be one of the professionals (a specific point 
that I will find relevant in addressing your last dilemma).  But we also 
have the opportunity to change the rules by participating in the 
profession's rule making processes.

In this case, the ethical rules are set by one person and one person 
only: You.  I can't get into the body of Kelly (Freudian slip?) when 
commenting on the ethical dilemmas.  It is indeed extraordinary that you 
even care to ask for comment.  After all, aren't you the rule maker, 
judge and jury all rolled into one?  Perhaps your erotic need to push 
your correspondents to come as close to reality as possible leaves you 
vulnerable to guilt.  Well, you said as much in your Ethical Dilemma 
piece.  I'll take you at your word; but that goes to the heart of a moral 
code, not an ethical code.  More on that below.

I'm going to assume that you don't want my GUESS at YOUR opinion, you 
want MY opinion (at least I think that's what you said) about the case as 
it reflects against YOUR ethical rules (not mine).  To offer that 
opinion, I'm going to look at your other statements about yourself.  What 
do I think you should have done IF you were being consistent with your 
own ethical rules?  The answer from me will be something different from 
your actions ONLY if you were clearly NOT being consistent with your 
ethical rules.

In the case of the first Dilemma the outcome of my reasoning may surprise 
you: I think you did the right thing when you did it.  Why?  Because the 
facts of his behavior, in my opinion, were consistent with all of your 
guidelines (with one technical exception that I argue your reasoning 
resolves anyway) for a Daddy Daughter moment.  In that case, you should 
have felt the need to close the window only when the session no longer 
served YOUR needs for erotic or intellectual stimulation.  “To be fair” 
the daughter was, by your own admission, not being molested by what you 
saw or knew of at least.  But you had lost interest in the continuation 
of the sequence of events, and the image transmission had even become 
unwelcome to you.  So you terminated it because the chat had lost its 
purpose from your standpoint.  The daughter’s well-being and needs were 
not being adversely impacted by your encouragement in the chat cycle.  
Well, maybe in society’s opinion it was; by “Society’s” definition maybe 
she was already being molested!  But as you define it in your various 
discussions on this subject in the “About Me” section, nope, no 
molestation.  And, in many countries, the images might not even be 
considered child porn.  Thus, in your ethical paradigm, only the needs of 
the Daddy and you were in play.  Let's examine this first case a little 
closer to see why my opinion in this case follows that conclusion.

You are chatting with a father with a daughter.  That immediately puts 
him in your special incest category as documented in your underage sex 
statement.  In addition, in that same document you put some rather 
remarkable allowances for activities between very young girls and the 
male cock.  Not only that, but you specifically allow very young girls to 
participate in oral sex (even though they don’t know they are 
“participating” in anything) even to the extent that it might relieve the 
sexual tension of the male partner (admittedly, that’s in the preteen 
section, but as you will see below, if the reasoning is right, it applies 
even more so to younger girls!).  I drew the unmistakable conclusion that 
you anticipate and thus accept that the outcome of THAT could include him 
blowing a huge wad of his sperm in her mouth, face, hair, nose, eyes, 
etc. etc.  Yum.  You justified this conclusion with the notion that 
physical contact with a cock was pretty much like physical contact with 
the man's finger, and, anyway, only he was truly aware that sexual 
activity was involved (defined as stimulation of someone's genitals 
resulting in sexual gratification).  And what sexual gratification it 
would be!  The acceptable case was carefully limited to:

1. Lack of touching of the young girl’s pussy or chest.  And maybe butt 
   too?  (But hell that goes on everywhere without sexual intent by 
   either party, so I'm kinda convinced that you left that one off on 
   purpose).  
2. The male is related or unrelated and any age (i.e., unrestricted).  
3. The girl is six years old or older.

The facts of the case are that you came to believe the man was responding 
to your highly persuasive chat suggestions with a real girl who was his 
daughter aged three.  So what?  What you saw never seemed to even 
approach a technical violation of rule (1).  Rule (2) is no rule at all.  
That leaves curious rule (3).  Why six, Kelly?  If I understand the 
justification for rule (3) from your own written statement of ethics on 
the matter, then I believe you set an arbitrary standard for age.  It 
seemed so obviously arbitrary to me when I first read it that I dismissed 
it as being simply a cop out to keep the flaming emails down a little 
bit.  However, when you realized that he was sending you real-time 
produced child porn (at least in the eyes of one democracy, ours!), you 
reacted, based on your PERSONAL preferences, by no longer participating.  
I can only speculate why, but the nature of your statements in your 
dilemma piece suggest that certain issues of self-interest were involved, 
including a desire not to participate in the receipt of the images, and 
your lack of erotic interest in continuing to participate.  But neither 
of those issues was ethical in nature, at least with respect to your 
rules.

In short, I think you were right to press him to go as far as you wanted 
him to go, even if it was real (cause it's more erotic that way) because 
any violations of your rules of ethics were technical (really only rule 
(3)) and subject to dispute anyway due to the possibility of arbitrary 
limits not consistent with the actual intent of the rule.  Therefore, WAY 
TO GO GIRL!  Nobody persuades a chat partner to take a daddy daughter 
situation to within your cherished framework of incest better than you 
do.

What keeps this from being a total open shut case?  Well, the HINT of a 
moral dilemma on your part.  Here are the telling sections: “Still, it 
was shocking to say the least that anyone would do that to a girl that 
age…” and “Of course, I never believed for a moment that he would 
actually DO it when I made those suggestions!” Why not, Kelly?  Does this 
mean you don’t REALLY want a daddy to act that way around a very young 
daughter?  Masturbate in the open near her?  Have his erect cock come in 
contact with a non-sexual part of her body?  If it’s just the age 
difference, well, baloney!  A three year old is not any more able to 
discern she is in a sexual situation than a six year old.  It’s just a 
finger against her back, isn’t it?  So, at the risk of angering you on 
the first try (please humor me if you feel anger, it is NOTHING 
personal), I guess I’m asking you to explain to me if you are consciously 
or unconsciously signaling a qualm about the moral foundations of your 
own ethical rules.

I am eager to hear how this discussion makes you feel.

Love, 
Dan

P.S.  If you found this interesting and worth continuing (and I certainly 
hope that you do), feel free to suggest to me the next ethical dilemma 
you would like me to tackle.  I can go in chronological order unless you   
suggest otherwise.  And I won’t continue until I get feedback from you.  
If you don’t find it interesting, for God’s sake tell me why!  I want you 
to enjoy this.  Then you might be motivated to allow me to enjoy what 
comes later.

P.S.S.  I thought you might also be interested in knowing the impact 
you’re having on me.  Last night at dinner, the kids left the table and 
my wife was talking to me.  All idle chatter of course.  But I knew that 
by listening I was giving her indirect emotional support.  You know what 
I’m talking about.  Because if she (or most wives) feel you are NOT 
listening, then they become disappointed, not because the information in 
the conversation is that important, but because the unwary husband has 
failed to give needed and valued emotional support.  Well, as I was 
listening, I was thinking ALMOST too much about you (i.e., almost missed 
a couple of cues).  Why might that interest you?  Well, in a sense I am 
trying to give YOU indirect emotional support by writing these pieces.  
It’s really not that strange.  After all, writing personal letters to 
other people was for centuries exactly how you gave indirect emotional :)

#2 Dad and Eleven year-old Daughter 
-----------------------------------

Dear Kelly,

The next topic is a man and his fantasy for his eleven year old daughter.  
Only, you have adequate proof over a long enough period of time to be 
confident that you were, at least some of the time, not seeing fantasy 
but reality.  This is, of course, the first necessary (but not 
sufficient) condition for an ethical dilemma to arise.  For as even the 
U.S.  government admits (with supervision from the Supreme Court), you 
and I can fantasize about ANYTHING without it being a crime.  The 
difference between you and the larger societal norm is that you encourage 
going to the limits.  Of course, no one can complain about a fantasy 
never revealed, but many different types of societal institutions 
advocate limits for the sake of reinforcing cultural norms.  It’s sort of 
like public education.  The content is normed by the society doing the 
teaching.

I once discovered this to my amazement in a context unrelated to fucking 
eleven year old girls.  (Funny, in my day job that subject just never 
seems to come up!) I once had a graduate student from the “former” Soviet 
Union (Gorbychev and Perestroika was “over” by the time of this 
conversation).  While I fiddled with my office door, I found myself 
stammering to be polite by trying to address him as a citizen of whatever 
country he was “from” now.  And since I happen to believe the Soviet 
Union actually was an “evil empire” I didn’t want to tarnish him with 
THAT label.  He finally stopped my stammering and simply said “I view 
myself as a Soviet.” Not a former Soviet, but a Soviet.  Hmmm, that’s 
when I realized that this guy did not feel “liberated” by the fall of the 
Soviet Union at all (however, make no mistake, the one’s subjugated in 
Eastern Europe sure did!).  I realized, this guy received a public 
education (no other kind was permitted) and was normed into accepting and 
desiring his political system.  Well, he was a damn good graduate 
student, so what did I care?  And he was perfectly willing to be a 
“Yankee Doodle” while he lived and worked in America.  Heck, he even knew 
and loved the Ford Taurus (not just his, ALL of them!).  Great guy, 
really.

So what’s the point, Danny me boy?  Society wishes to teach us what 
fantasy’s we should WANT to have (well, the limits on them anyway), but 
not even the law forbids us from accepting Kelly’s motto: Fantasies 
should have no limits.  The corollary is, of course, you cannot have a 
fantasy too extreme.  Thus, there is no ethical dilemma until it starts 
to get real, so that’s the entry point.  And from the description of the 
problem in Ethical Dilemmas, that point with reasonable probability had 
come.

Since we have a POTENTIAL ethical dilemma, the question is, did you go 
over the line, cumulatively or at any time during the rather long run up 
to the sudden disappearance of the father from your communication 
channels?  Remembering back to my “General Thoughts,” in addressing that 
question, I am not going to use Dan’s ethical paradigm (might be a good 
idea, cause, who knows?  I may or may not have rules as trustworthy as 
even naughty Kelly’ rules).  My conclusions must address the following: 
either “you should not have done this when you did it;” or “you should 
have stopped all of this sooner;” or “carry on Kelly, you did nothing 
wrong.”

If we look at the ethical constraints driving the discussion over Ethical 
Dilemma 1, the three rules for underage sex, we get little or no help 
here.  For all practical purposes, none of those rules were broken.  But, 
as we progress through all of the ethical dilemmas, we will take 
increasingly critical looks at the facts of each case to see if there are 
unwritten rules, analogous to “common law,” to help provide extra 
guidance.  In considering dilemma 2, I make the first effort to examine, 
codify, and use these unwritten rules.  Where might I find them?  Well, 
they might reveal themselves in your agreements about positions or 
principles concerning specific events offered to you by others (think of 
these as similar to a “contract”).  Or they might consist of systematic 
behaviors revealed during the course of chats whether related to this 
case or not.  The latter reveal “cultural norms” for the land of Kelly.  
In the following discussion, I will invoke and consider both types.

So, what other circumstances of this dilemma should we consider?  Well 
there was the unauthorized use of the sexy 11-year-old fuck muffin’s 
lingerie for sperm target practice.  At first glance, you might ask “WTF?  
If I can cum in a six year old’s mouth, why would anyone give a damn 
about a cum stain on an eleven year-old’s lingerie?” Ditto with the tooth 
brush and the mouth wash.  After all, cumming directly in the mouth just 
eliminates the middle man; err, the middle brush or bottle, I mean.

Well, Kelly might.  (Kelly, please note that from here on out I’m going 
to switch between first and third person when speaking to you or about 
you for purely rhetorical reasons.  Don’t take points off, please!)

If we read a juicy Farrow-Kelly chat about this “John-Alicia” story 
(please note: I’m workin that in from memory, might have been another 
lingerie shoot out!), Farrow (God I hope that one is real!!!) tells Kelly 
that it is perfectly ok for John to want to use his daughter’s bra as a 
sperm-cell swimming pool, but really it is an invasion of her privacy to 
do it without asking.  (Hmm, given his last brush with the law and the 
battle axe’s continuing feelings on the matter, just the suggestion of 
asking is practically standup comedy!) And, in all fairness to Farrow, 
there probably is a difference between leaving a greasy smudge in a first 
grader’s Cinderella panties and leaving that same present in the new 
thong the hyper- sensitive, hormone-riven teenage slut just talked her 
mom into buying for her with the neighbor boy in mind.  Farrow’s 
suggestion, so clinically and objectively correct, while avoiding all 
hint of judgment (geeze, she sounds like my mother!), is that the wife 
should buy him instead surrogate lingerie.  Naturally, from the 
description of the wife’s feelings of betrayal and humiliation at the 
husband’s past history, the cold day in Hell will come first.  So what’s 
a guy to do, especially with Kelly encouraging him in the way only she 
knows how to do?  Well, cum in the daughter’s panties, of course!  Just 
don’t miss; the sheets are much harder to change.

Is there even a gray area here with respect to Kelly’s ethical paradigm?  
All I could find was that Kelly seems to agree with Farrow when she 
writes this prescription (i.e., the prohibition on violating the girl’s 
privacy).  But Kelly could have been just being polite for the sake of 
conversation and not wanting to look like she was challenging the highly 
trained and licensed sex counseling professional.  And Kelly’s agreement 
sure didn’t look like a contract to me.  Heck, I would have done the same 
thing (“yeah, sure, sure, Farrow” while pressing on with John in the 
other chat window).  And nowhere else have I found on Kelly’s webpage 
that it is written “thou shalt not leave seminal fluid in an eleven year 
old’s lingerie.” So, Kelly, I figure it’s not really something that you 
disapprove of.  Looking at the chat sequence between John and Kelly, one 
sees the usual occurring, namely Kelly using all of her persuasive powers 
to cause that very thing to happen!  “And John, don’t forget to send the 
pictures!!!” I have no evidence that this is a violation of any rules in 
Kelly’s ethical paradigm, so I will dismiss this in summary judgment.  No 
ethical dilemma here.  John, fire away at the little girl’s underwear!

Now, let’s turn to bigger fish than some little girl’s cum rags.  In 
looking at the John-Kelly chat record, I have come to see from time to 
time and on a rather persistent basis, apparently significant departures 
between what I read in your rather emphatic rules and advice testaments 
found in your “About Me” section and what I read you advocating in the 
Chat sessions.  In some places, they are simply in complete and total 
contradiction.  Why, I ask myself?  Here are three possibilities:

1. Kelly, in the heat of the erotic moment, will compromise any and all 
   of her core principles.  We’ll call this the “Hypocrite’s” Hypothesis.  
2. Kelly, in asking for things that appear to violate her core principles 
   that apply to reality is simply role playing in fantasy space.  We’ll 
   call this the “Role Player’s Cue” Hypothesis.
3. Kelly, in asking for things that appear to violate her core principles 
   that apply to reality, is transferring the responsibility to the 
   father/mother on the other side of the chat to decide for themselves 
   whether to do a disapproved act or not.  We’ll call this the “Free 
   Will” Hypothesis.

Let’s look at a couple of examples to see if we can spot a likely correct 
hypothesis for the specific event in question.  If we see that the 
“Hypocrite’s” Hypothesis is the only truly plausible one, then I'll have 
to say that you acted outside of your ethics.  Let’s begin with the 
following chat sequence from chat_john080412.txt:

Kelly (10:46 PM): little cuties, I think sometimes about you and them 

John (10:46 PM): oh really 

John (10:46 PM): what do you think about 

Kelly (10:46 PM): picking one out for you 

John (10:46 PM): mmmm 

John (10:46 PM): and 

Kelly (10:46 PM): keeping her after school 

Kelly (10:47 PM): so you could fuck her in my classroom 

John (10:47 PM): young and hot 

John (10:47 PM): and me fucking her right on your desk 

John (10:47 PM): her parent with NO idea 

Kelly (10:48 PM): while I sit on the end and masturbate for you 

John (10:48 PM): that would be so fucking hot 

Kelly (10:49 PM): there is one that is so cute 

Kelly (10:49 PM): you would love her 

John (10:49 PM): what's she look like 

Kelly (10:49 PM): reminds me of Alicia which is why I think she is so hot 

Kelly (10:49 PM): naughty little grin 

John (10:50 PM): how old is she 

Kelly (10:50 PM): just turned 11

Key facts:

1. John did not initiate the idea of choosing a girl in Kelly’s class for 
   him, Kelly did.  
2. Kelly explains her motivation is so that John can fuck the chosen 
   girl.
3. The girl is young enough and the circumstances involving power over 
   the child clear enough that in the event it would likely be out of 
   Kelly's own safe harbor for preteen sex.

A key differentiating factor from other "more cautious" tales is that 
Kelly does not ask a rhetorical question “so you WOULD fuck her in my 
classroom?” That's a turn of the phrase that Kelly often uses to protect 
herself with plausible deniability; i.e., invoking “Free Will” as 
justification for her advocacy.  But in this case, she does not need it.  
Because John has no access whatsoever to the little girl in question and 
Kelly has taken no steps to make it possible for him to meet her, and she 
has MANY reasons not to ever reveal enough information for John to even 
know who she is, let alone take her up on the proposition, we can 
conclude that this is a fantasy and thus protected.  There can be no 
ethical dilemma arising from this chat sequence.  Are Kelly’s comments, 
then, simply the “cues” that are necessary for the role playing chat 
sequence to go forward?  As Yoda might say: “Practiced chat partners role 
playing are these two.” One, meaning ME, may look with squinty, 
questioning eyes, but the evidence is not there to accuse Kelly of 
ethical departures.

But what about the following chat?  Kelly once again initiates the idea 
of sex with a preteen in a way that at least pushes the envelope of her 
proscriptions for acceptable preteen sex.  And the discussion COULD cause 
a leave of fantasy for reality.

Kelly (11:44 PM): actually, the real reason it turned me on was imagining 
it was you and Alicia 

John (11:45 PM): would you like to see me fondle Alicia while she sleeps 

Kelly (11:45 PM): omg yes 

Kelly (11:45 PM): seeing your dick growing as a sign of your lust for her

Kelly escalates John’s lust, confirming her desire, not just his.  Are we 
dangerously close to the “Hypocrite’s Hypothesis?” But now she grows 
wary, retreating to a question, rather than an admonition.  The retreat 
keeps the “Fee Will” Hypothesis a viable option.

John (11:46 PM): knowing I want my dick in her 

Kelly (11:46 PM): you want that bad, don't you?

John (11:46 PM): fuck yes I do 

Kelly (11:47 PM): would you like to fuck her right now?

John (11:48 PM): I would love to have a cam hooked up and having riding 
my cock on cam so you could watch 

Kelly (11:48 PM): are her pajamas easy to take off tonight?

John (11:49 PM): yes 

John (11:49 PM): loose elastic waist 

Kelly (11:49 PM): pull them down to her knees this time

Is the above sequence Kelly at her best?  Escaping a “Hypocrite’s” fate 
in the nick of time all in the face of serious lust?  It would seem so.  
Careful naughty girl!!

And, then, the grand finale:

John (12:13 AM): would you get turned on watching me fuck that little one  
you are sending me pics of 

Kelly (12:13 AM): mmm, yes 

John (12:13 AM): not just saying that to please me are you 

Kelly (12:13 AM): I don’t do that 

John (12:14 AM): I know... just teasing you 

Kelly (12:14 AM): I would love to just watch 

John (12:14 AM): see me between her tiny thighs... my dick slowly  
disappearing into her little baby cunt 

John (12:43 AM): and I want to share my daughter with you... I really do 

Kelly (12:44 AM): I know, that is what makes it even hotter for me, that 
you really do

Pure “Free Will” territory here.  Kelly is back in her safe harbor, 
encouraging by asking questions or acknowledging her understanding of 
what HE wants to do; but not directing the show.  As the chat closes, 
veiled language is used.  

Kelly (12:44 AM): so now tonight I want you to show me 

John (12:44 AM): mmm ok

Just what does Kelly mean?  It seems John probably does not know for 
sure.  Kelly, in an earlier part of the sequence, tells him to use his 
imagination, as that would be more fruitful than her telling him 
everything.

So, Kelly, what to make of all of this?  To summarize my conclusions:

1. No obvious or certain departures from your “core reality principles” 
   (CRP’s, yeah, I know, shitty acronym :) ) were observed by you during 
   the course of the relationship.  You saw no evil.  
2. No obvious advocacy on your part for departures from your CRP’s. 
   While you came awful close, you are an experienced pro at getting 
   absolutely as close as possible to your erotic reality show without 
   crossing the line.  You spoke no evil.  
3. You did not chat with a previously known pedophile.  Despite the best 
   and most vigorous efforts of the FBI, a state or federal prosecutor, 
   and expensive legions of shrinks, this guy was cleared of being one. 
   You don’t have to assume on your own authority that he was/is one. 
   You heard no evil.

WAY TO GO GIRL!  You played it loose and close, but within your own 
rules.  You may not earn that gold star in discussions of every dilemma, 
but we’ll take ‘em one at a time.  For me, the closer you get the reality 
show to town the higher the sperm flies at the end of the hand job.

Luv, 
Dan

P.S.  Who knows what happened to him?  If the wife found his written 
record, then at least a frying pan upside the head, I’m sure.

#3 Dad and Three year-old Son 
-----------------------------

Dear Kelly,

In referring to the "real" you (and yes, I have taken careful note of 
that admonition throughout your web page), I think you raise an 
interesting issue that is at the center of my thinking about Dilemma 3.  
In fact, you may notice that from here on out I'm going to be building on 
the themes enumerated in the Dilemma 2 feature.  The real "dilemma" with 
you, frankly, is that the "distance" between no limits for fantasies and 
real limits for realities is so fantastically large (infinitely large in 
fact, therefore incomprehensibly large) that it gives some dangerous 
wiggle room.  Combine that with your admitted erotic thrill to stalk 
reality if it looms as an opportunity, and now you know why your loyal 
fans would blow their sperm over half a phone book just to correspond 
with you.  But if you profess to have limits in real life, AND you pledge 
(at least to yourself) that the "real" me will govern your behavior when 
it all becomes real; then I need to ask who was in control when the shit 
hit the fan?  Who was in control right BEFORE the shit hit the fan?  Yes, 
it matters.

To use a tired cliché, what did you know and when did you know it?  
Because intelligent people (and you are definitely one of those, that's 
why you blow people away with this web site) can make predictions about 
the future, and depending on the circumstances, can even make extremely 
accurate predictions, then you can't get away with trivial excuses every 
time: "I didn't think he would REALLY do it" etc.  etc.  You can't, that 
is, if you truly wish to live by your ethical code.  In other words, you 
might have to operate a bit more conservative when all of the information 
points to your participation, through extreme encouragement of a highly 
susceptible-to-suggestion individual, in REAL events that in hindsight 
you do not condone (but go ahead if you condone them, or if your pulling 
our leg about not condoning them).  Are you being fully honest with us 
and yourself?  Why would you bother asking people to comment on your 
ethical dilemmas if you weren't willing to examine this question?  Since 
I don't know you except for what you've written, meaning I don't KNOW the 
REAL you (through, for example, personal acquaintance), then I'm going to 
take you at face value and assume that you do care about this question.

The law knows all about this issue of encouraging susceptible people or 
crowds.  Aren't the ones that incite the riot generally held most 
culpable?  Wasn't Heath Ledger's Joker (OMG, what a MOVIE!!) the really 
bad guy, not all of his dumb ass assistants?  They pulled most of the 
triggers but they were all brainwashed by him, right?  But, hey, I don't 
want you to think that I've suddenly gotten judgmental.  Nothing could be 
farther from the truth.  Like I said in the beginning, you don't want a 
sycophant, do you?  This question, in my mind, is at the heart of Dilemma 
3.

But, I don't want to get ahead of myself.  Expect Dilemma 3 tonight 
sometime.  The wife has carpool duty for soccer practice, and that gives 
me some quality time to be a pervert.  Or, at least, draft commentary 
while THINKING perverted things.

Love, 
Dan

*****************

[Prologue: I’ve tried to inject some levity in the monologue that 
follows.  These commentaries have been getting kind of heavy, and I 
didn’t want them to sink clear out of sight due to their own weight.  
But, I have a bad habit of laughing at my own satire, so if you read some 
of it and instead of lol (or thinking about it) you get that “this is 
sick” kind of look on your face, well, hold that emotion and accept my 
sincere apology.  Because when you get to the end of this commentary, you 
might be able to recycle that “this is sick” emotion!]

Dear Kelly,

The next topic is the man and what-ever-walks-within-arms-reach-and-
can’t-get-away-quick-enough case!  In this case, it would be his three 
year-old son.

First, let’s establish something about myself.  While I’m not homophobic, 
daddy-son stories are not my thing.  I remember being in college and my 
roommate and I would cruise our local neighborhood and dare each other to 
belly up to the bar in the local gay establishment.  And way back then at 
the dawn of time, that was one roaring gay bar.  Lesbian bar, too.  (But 
don’t try to pick ‘em up, unless rejection is your preference.) So we 
would strike up a friendly chatter with the natives, while fending off 
the passes, and next thing you know we found ourselves one very late 
night sipping a post-bar-closed-down beer in the private residence of 
this fair member of the same sex.  He was giving us insight into the 
existential pleasures of being a gay man that has sexual relations with 
other gay men.  All I can remember from this coming of age episode was 
the young man assuring me something to the effect of “you just can’t 
believe how exciting it is to have a massive load of cum in your face!” I 
decided to take his word for it in lieu of taking the lab course.  Ever 
since then, I understand the human reality of homosexuality, but I don’t 
wish to fashion it into my fantasies.  (Unless, of course, we’re talking 
girl-on-girl, then Whoo! Whoo! Let the party begin!)

What’s this anecdote teach us about Dilemma 3?  Nothing, actually, 
because the father’s decision to engage in oral sex with his three-year 
old son on his end of an open cam channel with you did not appear to me 
to be a sincere expression of homosexual interest in his son.  It DID 
appear to be an extremely lustful, uncontrolled response to a Kelly 
demand.  How do we know, at least about the lustful uncontrolled 
responses?  Well, no less an authority than Kelly herself tells us so in 
fantasies/A Naughty Dad and His Kids.txt

One thing I have learned about a horny guy – once he gets to jerking off, 
there's not much he won't do for me!  Mike was no exception and soon he 
had covered the glass over a wedding picture of him and his wife with a 
full load of cum.  Then, the three year-old son makes a mistake.  No, 
it’s not that he toddled into the same room as his father.  After all, we 
can assume the little boy has covered this territory in his random walks 
before without finding himself dancing in the sperm shower.  (Hey, it was 
a RAIN shower when I first saw the movie!!!) No, his mistake was walking 
into the line of sight of the cam camera while Kelly was thinking of 
giving the guy the sendoff for being boring.  Now, Kelly gets an idea:

Kelly: "Ever masturbate with your son in the room?"

Mike: "No, never."

Kelly: "Well, strip for me then."

Mike: "LOL - OK"

And of course, the rest is history: Following no nonsense instructions 
from Kelly, in which she could see cause and effect before her very eyes, 
the young son gets to smoke the magic cigar and claim the jelly toast 
(minus the toast, of course).

But do we have a violation of the ethical code of Kelly land?  Is Kelly 
willing to abandon her own ethical code with respect to real events as 
soon as it becomes possible to do so?  We begin by reading the entire 
“fantasy” which we discover by her own admission is not a fantasy, but 
merely an embellishment, and, indeed, she does not deny that the “real” 
events she says she saw on the cam were, well, actually seen by her in 
real life.  But, since I'm searching for a high standard of guilt, this 
alone is not enough.  To see why, we need only examine what she actually 
insisted the daddy do and compare to the letter of her code.  With the 
son, the letter of the code is not all together clearly violated because 
her underage sex code pretty much allows for:

1. Receiving oral sex from children (just a rite of passage, so Kelly 
   says); and 
2. Returning the favor with a large dose of sperm delivered anywhere 
   convenient on the child’s body.  To be fair, I’ve merely assumed this 
   to be ok after Kelly wrote that “It also provides the men with the 
   opportunity to satisfy their needs.” Well, we can guess what THAT 
   means.

Anyway, it does not look like a slam dunk case, YET.  We do have Kelly 
worrying about the lack of righteousness of a daddy using his 3-year old 
son as a cum rag, and acknowledging that she was pushing him to do it.  
Is this true remorse?  Or just crocodile tears?  We don’t know, but if we 
want to pursue this to a “jury trial,” we need a “smoking gun” for 
evidence.  Sorry, that may have been a poor choice of words.  How about 
“incontrovertible evidence that Kelly lost control of herself in her lust 
and crossed her own ethical line.”

Well, you can find THAT no problem by examining the basic repeat of the 
cum- on- the-son game with the guy’s four year-old daughter.  I won’t 
bore you with the details, but let the record show that Kelly abandons 
all safe harbors and plausible deniability by just telling him what to do 
and when to do it (that would be NOW!).  The result is at least a fully 
documented pussy molestation.  Licking cum was Kelly’s next friendly 
suggestion, but fucking was on the table earlier.  But now the father, 
relieved of a sack full of sperm and the crazy lust that let it fly, 
shunts Kelly’s suggestions to ground.  HE regains control over the 
situation, DESPITE Kelly’s preference.  She wanted “moar.”

How does all of this stack up against Kelly’s rather detailed ideals for 
non-fantasy line crossing?

“Well, let’s see Ms. Kelly.  I’m your court ordered legal counsel in this 
first district court of Kelly land.  Looks like you’ve been pushing the 
ethical limits again, huh sweetie?  I’ll tell you what, with this cam 
thing, and the chat record, and your own written confession (why do my 
clients always do that?!), looks to me like we need to do some deep belly 
scraping toward the prosecutor.  Fortunately for you, he and I go way 
back.  In fact, all the way back to law school, when he and I were 
working on our community service points by helping out at the public 
defender’s office trying to get those oppressed towel heads out of Gitmo 
and back into polite society.  While your case is not quite as wrenching 
as Achmed the terrorist, I think I can work a deal.”

Ok, the above “scenario” is a bit embellished.  But so was “A Naughty Dad 
and His Kids.txt.” Nevertheless, according to Kelly, it wasn’t all made 
up.  It seems to not even have been mostly made up:

I almost couldn't believe they were real!  I must have cum half a dozen 
times at least as I thought about how nasty he had been.

But would Kelly take the “objective” public defender’s advice and plead 
guilty to an ethical violation?  Think again:

I am a firm believer that ANYTHING is OK when it comes to fantasies and 
if a guy wanted to fantasize about doing things with a little girl then 
that was fine with me.  Mike, on the other hand, had crossed the line 
between fantasy and reality and I struggled with the morality of what was 
happening.  Once again I wondered if I was in some way responsible for 
this?  In all fairness, how could I be blamed?  I was just sitting in my 
room all alone and he was far away.  It wasn't like I was forcing him to 
do anything.  He was completely responsible for his actions so was it bad 
for me to watch?  I didn't think so.  Besides, if anything I was now more 
curious than ever as to how far he would really go!

In other words, she just won’t own up to the seemingly obvious (at least 
in the opinion of the non-lust-crazed non participant) that this would 
NOT have happened if Kelly had not “caused” it to happen through her 
advocacy across the chat.  Instead, she rationalizes away her 
culpability.  Why???  What motivation does she have to avoid facing the 
difference between her WORDS, and her ACTIONS?  Somehow, in her mind, she 
does not cross the line, only Mike does.  Can Kelly EVER cross the line?  
Well, her argument is technical and based on the “Free Will” hypothesis 
discussed in the Dilemma 2 discussion.  This “he did it, but not because 
of me” defense is common for Kelly, and often justified by Kelly’s 
careful management of her chat dialog.  But at times, like in this 
scenario, she abandons all pretense of “Free Will” and instead DEMANDS 
action, and demands it now.  How can she now absolve herself?

Well she can’t, of course.  But she rationalizes it away anyway.  After 
all, she is addicted to the reality show, and it does not matter how 
young the boy or girl is except, maybe, for them to be younger if 
possible!  Kelly ignores here “ideals” as soon as the opportunity to 
receive gratification from the reality show reveals itself.  And because 
it IS real, AND she has power over the adult on the other side 
(themselves co-opted through their own lust) her gratification is 
magnified many times.  Anyone that has studied, or experienced, behaviors 
subject to addiction knows just where the little matter of “ideals” 
stands in all of this.  The ideals are the first to be ignored, run over 
like kindling under tank treads.  And Kelly describes all the classic 
symptoms of addiction.  Reckless behavior and escalation of needs, for 
example:

One of the criticisms about sex and porn is that like drugs, people get 
bored at a certain level and continually push the bar higher and higher.  
I don't personally know much about the porn or drug aspects as I don't 
get into it them, but I do agree when it comes to sex.  I find myself 
always looking for something new and exciting…

And then there’s the lack of regard for others, 

No, this was more a case of me getting off based on what her father would 
be doing, not her.  At least, what I HOPED he would be doing to her.  My 
mind was racing with possibilities, each more perverted and naughty than 
the last.  And a willingness to say whatever she must to get 
satisfaction:

Given that what he had done so far was bad enough, if I continued to chat 
with him, what would be the next step?  As bad as it may sound, the truth 
of the matter was I wanted to know!  Deep down it made me horny as hell 
when he did those things with Justin and in some perverted way I was 
curious as to how far he would go with him.  Addiction to the reality of 
molesting the little boy AND girl.  “Moar,” not less is always the answer 
to Kelly’s needs.  Ideals?  Kelly knows what happened to them:

“What I wanted to see at that moment went completely against all my   
morals and upbringing.  What I WANTED was to watch his son suck his   
cock.” While it may be ok to WANT it, but to ask for it?

Kelly: "Rub your cock on Justin's face and lips."

What more to say?  There is nothing more.  Ideals hacked to get what she 
wants.  But what judgment does this behavior deserve?  That kept me up 
one night.  Should I censure her?

“Kelly, you bad, bad woman.”

Hmmm, that didn’t seem to come out right.  After all, who am I to call 
Kelly bad?  And what about the rest of her readers?  (Even the flamers, 
after all, are reading this shit, too.  Who do you all think you’re 
kidding?) Just reading Kelly’s webpage would get many of our better 
halves demanding mandatory counseling.  That’s when I realized, in Kelly 
land, what would a “jury of her peers” look like?  Targets of an FBI 
investigation, no doubt.  That’s when I surprised myself and realized 
that I was missing something way too fundamental, something that up to 
this point, I had simply overlooked in my co-opted world view.  Maybe I 
did not realize that I was still in the shadow of the morals that I had 
grown up with.  Why was Kelly or I paying attention to those?

Then it occurred to me, that my feeling of censure was a sign of 
corruption.  Sexual inhibition.  Sexual oppression.  Exactly what our 
larger society teaches.  Some struggle psychologically with their 
repressed feelings for sexual freedom.  How many marriages flounder on 
the divide between what the husband wants and what the wife will do?  And 
who’s to blame the wife for being inhibited?  Who did that to HER?  Did 
she secretly want to explore her sexual identity as soon as puberty would 
allow, only to deny it or risk the awful public brand of “slut?” When 
gender normed for feelings and willingness to act on those feelings, 
aren’t both girls AND boys sluts?  You bet they are.  I’ve been there, 
done that.

But what about the appearance of using the little boy and girl as sex 
toys?  So what of it?  It’s one thing to kidnap an 11-year old girl from 
a home and family filled with love.  And then, after she had already 
reached an age in which she was aware of the prevailing culture of 
inhibition, and having already learned to accept it herself for better or 
for worse, just rape her?  Yes, that is wrong, and the resulting 
psychological damage is real.

But what about using a child that can’t and doesn’t understand “sexual 
activity” and using her as a sex toy for the pleasure of those that 
provide all that brings her physical and mental security?  And then, when 
she is old enough to understand the decision to “fuck or not to fuck?” 
let her make the decision to continue?  Will she be harmed?  Society will 
say she is brainwashed because, in all likelihood, she will resist 
switching to society’s norms (and all the shrinks know this, just read 
their case histories).  Need further proof?  Look at what the graduate 
student said when his ability to “belong” to the Soviet Union as a 
citizen had disappeared completely and irrevocably.  He was still, in his 
mind, a Soviet.  What would a former fuck toy do when she had the 
cognitive ability to make sexual decisions herself?  We know that 
biological factors inseparable from human nature are certain to make this 
occur over a known range of ages.  That allows the users of the fuck toy 
to adjust to the new reality.  In other words, stop the use, and instead 
begin to engage the potential partner.

Well then, I surprised myself with my conclusion.  Kelly, why shouldn’t 
you use his children as fuck toys to satisfy your sexual needs and for 
that purpose alone?  Why not indeed?

Kelly, if you have the moral courage to change your written statements on 
the matter, please go ahead.  If not, we don’t care about them anyway.  
Be what and who you want to be.  If that means persuading a dad or mom to 
use their young children for your own exclusive sexual pleasure without 
the slightest concern or consideration for the fuck toy or toys involved, 
what are you waiting for?  You know you want it.

Love, Dan

P.S.  Ahmm, obviously, you didn’t wait; all signs suggest you’re already 
a pro!!

P.S.S.  The above conclusion would not go over well at the average dinner 
table.  I advise extreme caution before using this topic to stimulate a 
boring cocktail party.  :)

#4 Cheating Fiancé and School Teacher 
-------------------------------------

Dear Kelly,

And now for Dilemma 4, the guy who is having so much fun with Kelly that 
he forgets which drawer he keeps his underwear in.  You’d think he would 
have noticed the lack of room for his balls in those thongs.  Anyway, 
compared to what we’ve discussed so far, this definitely goes in the 
misdemeanor file.

What’s the dilemma?  Something about should Kelly have filled in the 
fiancé with her lingerie’s dance card while she was away?  Jeez, it’s 
like the nutcracker or something.  And who can blame Kelly for helping 
the fiancé understand that, no, that rather strong smell of Clorox 
wafting up from her “clean” panties is not a slip up with the wash.  I 
mean, this is just girl- girl talk, right?  Throw in a clip or two from 
the webcam to eliminate all doubt, and the fiancé is just getting a cheap 
education into the kind of leftover weirdo’s she might have waiting for 
her if she doesn’t get married soon.  Please, just don’t let it be this 
guy.

Seriously, why the guilt?  He’s the one that slipped up and let her find 
out about his Kelly antics.  Why wouldn’t Kelly complete the circle with 
a little delicious gossip?  Especially about the women’s own fiancé!  
Looks to me like Kelly did a community service.  Now he’s free to go out 
and find someone else adequately covered with tattoos and piercings to 
meet his expectations.

And her?  Well, now she’s got one more good reason to stay out of those 
“Downtown Disney” bars.  Too antiseptic, if you ask me.  A titty bar in 
downtown Orlando?  NOW were talking!

As far as sending the pictures and webcam clips to the guys principal, 
jeez Kelly, can’t you find some lazy dog to kick?  That’s just plain 
mean.  Save that sort of stuff for people that deserve it, like that 
fucked up headmaster of yours.  But THAT dilemma will have to wait its 
turn.

Love and kisses always, Dan

*****************

# 5 Cheating Husband 
# 6 Naughty Cross-Dressing Husband 
# 7 Horny Husband 
# 8 Naughty Dad

Be warned, this is long, and it's not done.  But it’s done through the 
first episode.  Should I continue?  Does this bore you?  Let me know.  
Also, the link to the MSNBC piece I cite is:

Appeared at http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/32895838/ns/today- 
today_relationships/?GT1=43001 on 23 Sep 2009.

[Prologue: Departing from past practice, I’m rolling the next four 
dilemmas (5- 8) into one commentary.  Why?  Well, even though each has 
its own unique features, there is always at least one common thread that 
ties them together, at least in Kelly’s mind.  How do I know?  Consider 
the following questions or comments: “Was it right to encourage him to 
start an affair?” “This started out as yet another guy unhappy with his 
marriage, especially his wife’s lack of sexual interest.” “It’s funny how 
here was a married guy who was actually GETTING laid by his wife and 
STILL, he wasn’t satisfied.” “In retrospect, I think that what he REALLY 
wanted was to meet me and that somehow he thought that telling me about 
his daughter and doing naughty things regarding her might somehow turn me 
on enough to want to meet him.“

What’s the common thread?  Either outright implication of an adulterous 
relationship, or the warning signs there in.  Each question or comment 
comes from one of the four different dilemmas, as Kelly describes them.  
Now, we could get wrapped around the details of each, but why?  They’re 
all kinda boring in themselves, so why bother?  What’s NOT “boring” about 
them?  Well that’s in the eye of the beholder of course.  And who might 
that be?

It goes without saying that for most of the fucked-up perverts going to 
Kelly’s website, my commentary would get a quick scan followed by at 
least a subliminal “when does the five year old get fucked in the ass?” 
question.  Finding that subplot missing, they are already two websites 
down the line.  So, I have no illusions about who might read the crap 
that follows: me and Kelly.

And I’m probably kidding myself about Kelly.  So why should I bother?  
Well, the topic of adultery transcends all else in the enigma that is 
Kelly.  Attacking this question is rather intimidating and captivating at 
the same time.  Reading Kelly’s FAQ, among other things, leaves one 
believing that Kelly is practically a white-dress bride eager to get on 
with the soul mate thing.  But then the caveats begin.  And don’t forget 
the rationalizing!

Does Kelly have two agendas?  No, probably three!!!  So what else can 
your friendly commentator do but waste an evening, or two, questioning 
this question?  In fact, my early morning weight lifting has two parts: 
The sweating against gravity with the muscles, and the sweating against 
Kelly’s logic with the gray matter.

Beyond the Kelly enigma issue, there is the importance of the topic 
itself.  After all, for all the shock the flaming “wives” express once 
they “find out” what the hub has been up to with Kelly (i.e., dreaming of 
teens and preteens, usually closely related ones at that) does anyone 
believe that most of this is anything more than fantasy?  Kelly suggests 
we take 99.9% of it as fantasy, but considering her well documented 
addiction to the “real thing,” I don’t know for sure what to think about 
that 99.9% number.  But what I can be virtually certain of is that in 
this country divorce is the main family wrecking institution, not child 
abuse or incest.  When it comes to “harm” to children, divorce can be 
compared to auto accident fatality statistics, while child sexual abuse 
to airline fatality statistics.

In other words, child psychological trauma due to divorce is endemic, 
while psychological trauma due to sexual child abuse is by comparison 
negligible.  In fact, I might hazard a judgment: The underage child “sex” 
promoted on Kelly’s website can be ignored in the context of society’s 
concerns.  But her role in events leading to adultery is a potentially 
serious concern.  Why?  Because the encouragement to commit adultery is 
much more likely to be acted upon.  And when found out, the vaporization 
of the family unit is often the collateral damage.

Now, I know I promised not to be judgmental, but since I might be the 
only one reading this, I originally planned to craft a “story” that would 
end the commentary with a stark reflection on Kelly’s participation in 
adulterous affairs.  But, my own real life schedule prevented me from 
writing so creatively so quickly, and how fortunate for me that it was 
so!  Because, when I finished reading Kelly’s September 13 update, I knew 
she had taken real life well beyond my little story.  I was happy for 
her.

Kelly had faced the face of the betrayed wife.  And that wife told Kelly 
just how she felt about Kelly’s role in the affair.  Whether she was 
right or wrong, or maybe only half right, it does not matter.  Kelly 
heard, felt, and is now on her own to consider what all that meant.  I am 
a pauper compared to that.  But is this all there is to talk about in 
these four dilemmas?  Just a trip to the woodshed for Kelly?  Why DO I 
read Kelly’s stuff?  Why DO I pay any mind to her ideals and her stern 
convictions, offered so often as challenges?

Consider this from a recent chat I had with her: “Kelly: Outside of silly 
chats where I provoke people, have you ever read where I promoted incest 
when the daughter is older and nothing sexual had ever happened before?” 
The answer is no.  But what about a young lady that says she does not 
condone adultery, and then makes it clear that participating in the act 
of adultery with a married man produces intense feelings of self worth; 
which translates into the most intense of sexual pleasures.  So much so 
that she becomes compelled to beg for it?  (And I’ve seen begging for 
sex, so I know it happens.) 

Is it any wonder that these behaviors of hers show signs of an addiction?  
Given her own actions to deal with her dilemma, I no longer felt the need 
to address the “golden rule” with Kelly.  But, as has been the case in 
each previous commentary I made, I knew I still needed to turn the 
microscope on everyone else just to see if we really are all that 
different.  Take me, for instance.  I can claim nearly 25 years of 
marriage without any slip ups.  Oh really?  Is that strictly true, I 
asked myself?  What IS a “slip up” when it comes to marital infidelity?  
Are Kelly and her latest married lover alone out on that limb?  Or are 
virtually all of us somewhere on that same limb?

For sure, some may be closer to the tree than others, but aren’t we all 
birds of the same feather?  And if we are, what does it say about the 
“natural” tendency of men and women to have feelings about our own self-
worth and then to pursue external validation of our self-worthwhile 
constrained by these promises we make in relationships?  While reflecting 
on these inescapable tendencies, I decided for my own sake to explore 
what at least one of Kelly’s correspondents called being “emotionally 
unfaithful.” 

Could that include me?  Is it natural to be unfaithful in at least tiny 
little ways?  Does it matter?  If not, why should it matter then if it 
occurs in a big way (i.e., full blown adulterous sex, pun intended…)?  If 
it does matter, then who can throw the first rock at Kelly?  The logical 
dilemma filled me with hours of thought; and so I started almost 
clinically cataloging all of my potentially “emotionally unfaithful” 
activities.  Even this past Sunday morning.  In church.  Read on, if you 
give a damn.]


Chapter 8 - Sex With A Slut Mom While Her Daughter Watches
==========================================================

I've got some twenty something slut that I've been casually fucking for a 
while.  She's got a young daughter.  Maybe five years old.

We are in her bedroom, I'm going down on her (the slut that is).  Pretty 
typical fuck session.  The slut loves for me to eat her.  Will do 
anything to get a long pussy eating.  I like it, but make sure I use her 
weakness to get what I want.

Then, her daughter shows up at the edge of the bed, dressed in a cotton 
night gown.  Typical for the age.  I stop in slurp and cock an eye in her 
direction.  "Hmm, what's the slut going to do about this?" I ask.

The slut and the five year old whisper something between them and then 
the five year old hops in bed next to the slut.  I see the girl's legs 
aimed in my general direction.  The sluts legs are spread and my face is 
still between them.  Cock is rock hard and I'm not inclined to be 
interrupted.  Neither is the slut...

She asks me if I mind fucking her with her daughter in bed.  I shrug my 
shoulders in reply and get back to eating her out.  The daughter snuggles 
against slut mom.  Eventually, I move up and push my stiff tool into the 
sluts cunt.  She shrugs her head and shoulders back and forth.  Full 
speed ahead.  Her legs are straight up and I'm pounding the cunt.  The 
bed shakes.  The daughter shakes next to the slut.  I don't care.  The 
slut doesn't care.  The daughter seems ok.

So I'm pounding away, and the slut is grunting and making obscene noises.  
Dirty nasty talk.  Driving me over the edge.  Temporary insanity land... 
I know she likes the pop shot on her, the face if I can manage it (can't 
always get there).  Just one of her nasty preferences.

Besides it being a nasty preference, she likes me to go down on her after 
I finish, so blowing my wad on her face makes that realistic from my 
perspective.  As an aside, one time I made the mistake of getting so 
fucking insane over watching the cum run down her belly and fill her 
belly button, that I reached up while going down on her and started 
rubbing the jizz into her skin.  She told me "don't do that." She 
preferred for it to congeal on her.  She always leaves it where I shot it 
until she takes a shower in the morning.  Her thing...

So, now you know that it’s business as usual for me to yank the manhood 
out and hustle up to her side so I can douse her in baby juice.  She has 
bushy curly black hair that is totally cool with a rope or two of jizz 
stuck in it.  This is time is no exception...

So off I go, except now the daughter is between me and the sluts face.  I 
lean over the girl and start to pump jizz like a fire hose.  My head is 
in the air, groaning.  I look down and see the slut as usual with her 
head lifted toward my cock.  Her hands are stroking the head of the cock, 
spreading the hole, helping my orgasm and improving her view of the nasty 
jizz blasting randomly in her face and hair.  She love it, I love it.

When I finally start to get my rational senses back, I look down.  That 
gorgeous five year old face is looking straight up at my cock, still 
being pumped slowly by hand and the head stroked by slut/mom.  The 
dribble from my cock is, of course, falling on the daughter's face.  I 
can't help it and I don't care.  A couple of lines of jizz from the hot 
blasts that fell down on the little girl are on her chin and the top of 
her cotton nightie.  She's just watching.

Now, it occurs to me that slut being a slut, I know I'm not the only one 
having fun with her from time to time.  In fact, I know some of the other 
lucky joes.  And it occurs to me that little daughter has seen all this 
before.  Makes me feel nonchalant.  What the fuck do I care?  I don't.  I 
don't give a damn if my cum plastered slut/mom or her daughter.  So I 
move back down to give slut/mom what she wants.

I go back to her juicy wet pussy and attack her clit.  As usual, she 
writhes with pleasure.  You just can't do this enough for the slut.  Her 
daughter cum covering doesn't concern her, only her fucking clit.

I look up and see that the daughter's legs are parted just slightly.  Not 
obscene, but more off hand, like it's more comfortable for her to lay 
with her legs parted just so.  That's when I see she has no panties.  
Just a gorgeous smooth little pussy.  Really just a peak cause she's not 
trying to flash.

That's when I know that there are more nights to come with slut/mom and 
daughter.  Does daughter want her pussy licked?

The slut/mom was awesome.  Fucking her every way I wanted as long as she 
got her pussy eaten.  (And yes, she had a daughter that liked to watch, 
mostly because slut/mom was a single mom and poor daughter spent a lot of 
time in daycare and babysitter and was just trying for quality time!  I 
hate to say it, but that shit I'm not making up!).  Going to the end of 
the road that her house was on.  The university president's house was on 
that road.  Getting out on the grass and fucking.  I laugh now that I'm 
on the faculty at another university.  Shit, that would have been a fun 
one to explain to the dean of students...

Slut/mom lived in a small house.  One big bedroom, living room, etc.  
Daughter would wake up, stand up, and start wailing until slut/mom put 
her in bed with us.  Then fucking would continue.  I was just a kid and 
my dick was doing the talking.  I doubt I would do that now.

You want me to tell you what I'm thinking as I blow a nasty puddle of cum 
on her little face?  How I want her to suck the last bit of jizz off the 
end of my cock while I hold her by her hair and pump my cock across her 
jizz covered cheeks?

Next time...


Chapter 9 - Fucking the Slut Mom and Cumming on Her Daughter
============================================================

I haven't told anyone about slut/mom in all these years.  Except for my 
boss/professor.  I talked to him about whether slut/mom was a fit mother.  
Too judgmental back then.  Now, I'd let sluts be sluts...

She struggled with temptation.  And usually gave in eventually.  I saw 
lots of crazy stuff with her daughter.  All I cared about was nasty, no-
limits sex.  But I was 21 years old.  That night that I saw her daughters 
pussy under her nightie, that wasn't the last time.  She did what was 
expected.  Not really doing anything to encourage.  Not stopping 
anything.

Her daughter was curious but then why not?  She watched her mother's legs 
in the air.  Her mother’s mouth around cock.  Smelled her mother covered 
in sperm.  Got used to it.  I did all the eating.  She laid next to mom.  
Watched.  The second time in bed, I managed to pull her into the action 
in a small way.

I got my arms around slut/mom's legs as I worked her cunt with my mouth.  
I  hooked daughter's leg at the same time.  Daughter spread her legs to 
accommodate her leg being trussed up.  Her pussy was more exposed.  I had 
the smell and taste of slut/mom.  Temporary insanity was near at hand.

I hadn't taster her daughter yet.  Not that night.  Slut/mom was wacked 
out with lust.  I worked slut/mom and kept my arm around daughter's and 
slut/mom's leg.  Nice view.  I decided what I would do when I got my 
chance to blow my load on slut/mom.

After getting up and ramming it in I fucked slut/mom hard.  Before 
slut/mom I was fucking college coed's.  Always very tight pussies.  
Taught to hold back.  Slut/mom had already had a kid and was looser.  I 
could go awhile.  It was refreshing.

But, all good things must come to an end.  And since she always begged me 
to pull it out, out it went.  And around the daughter I crawled with 
pecker in hand.  when I got adjacent to slut/mom's face, I started 
jerking the wood.  She assume the position to try and catch it over 
daughter's face.  But I aimed low and blew it onto daughter.  Slut tried 
to accommodate my aim, thinking it was an accident.  It didn't faze 
daughter.  She took a full blast.  Back then, it felt like a fire hose.  
Greasy slime running down the tube.  I didn't give a damn.  Ecstasy does 
that to you.  Slut/mom did her usual fingers on the head of my cock thing 
trying to help it along and watch the spluge at the same time.  I just 
jerked everything I had onto daughter's face hair neck nightie.  
Wherever.  The I rotated back on my legs and rested a minute.

It was unbelievable.  I can't cum like that now.  Youth.

It was then that I looked down and like a fucking robot or an out of body  
experience "watched" myself lower my cock to daughter's mouth and lightly 
pushed it in.  She opened in response and there it rested.  In her mouth 
with spluge still dribbling out.  At first I didn't even look at slut/mom 
to see what she thought.  Obviously it wasn’t the first dick in her 
mouth.  Slut/mom got around and daughter got to watch — a lot I think.

So I stroked a bit longer and then started toward my next destination 
between slut/mom's legs.

Kelly: when you fucked her daughter, did she help or just watch?

Like I said, at first I didn't see what slut/mom's reaction was.  I was 
zeroed in on what I was doing, like it was natural or something.  
Slut/mom spread her legs when she felt me moving back for the post-fuck 
cunt munch.  But that was when I looked up and saw she was still up on an 
elbow looking at daughter.

Kelly: oh?

Slut/mom was missing her nasty spluge bath.  Normally she wore whatever I 
blew on her all night.  Didn't want me touching it (fine with me) and 
didn't want to end the nasty feeling by cleaning herself.  So we just 
kept up our sex act with whatever she had.  But she had little to nothing 
cause I had avoided shooting it on her.  favoring her daughter.  I was 
pretty blatant about it.  I didn't really think about it a the time.  
Just one of those "what did I do that for?" sort of moments.  But 
slut/mom was about to take matters into her own hands, so to speak.

I started licking and eating her pussy.  Took one deep thrust of my 
tongue into her hole tasting the strong "tang" of her vaginal secretions 
and starting to feel my cock throb toward a recovery.  With both of my 
eyes glued to slut/mom looking at daughter.  Then I watched slut/mom 
slide a hand under daughter’s neck and drop her own face into the sperm 
mess that was her daughter's face.  That's when I decided that I was 
staring at a slut and a 5 year old fuck toy.  That was the beginning of 
an escalation I kept going over the time that slut/mom and I were sharing 
a nasty experience.

That’s the back story for the saga to come.  When I do my next tribute (I 
picked out a suitable fuck toy), everyone will see my spluge like it was 
back then.

Here's some late breaking news.  As I write this my oldest daughter Chery 
just walked in and said she has a date tomorrow night.  Guy’s coming out 
to pick her up.  She is nearly sixteen.  Imagine if she knew what her dad 
was writing!


Chapter 10 - Fucking the Slut Mom While Her Daughter Helps
==========================================================

So after blowing my load the last time, slut mom liked me to go back down 
on her.  That night was no exception so down I went.  I already had 
witnessed slut mom smearing my jiz onto her face from daughter so when I 
wrapped my arms around slut mom's legs, I hooked daughter's leg again, 
pulling her daughter's legs apart.  What I was looking for was there 
again, her daughter's bare pussy.

It was so cute.  Her smooth pussy lips slightly parted by my spreading 
her legs.  The clit hood peeking out.  And me with my face in her grown 
moms pussy.  The smell intoxicating me.  The taste turning me freaky.

So I when slut mom finished using her daughter as a sperm sponge and laid 
back on her back to enjoy the pussy eating, instinct once more took over.  
And yes, it was unbearably HOT!

I just ran my hand up her daughter's leg until I came to the hem of her 
nightie, and then just kept going.  My fingertips glided over the 
daughter’s 5 year-old pussy.  I used two fingers to slide around the 
labia.  Then I spread the cunt lips.  And gently touched the hood and 
slid my finger down to the hole, where I just rested the finger tip.  The 
daughter moved her butt a bit in response.  But otherwise just laid next 
to moaning mom.  She was very passive.  No sign of reaction.  Just 
accepting that my fingers where on her tiny cunt, and as long as she was 
beside slut mom, she seemed ok.

For the rest of the time that I sucked on slut mom's pussy, I fingered 
her 5 yo daughter's pussy.  Slowly moving a single index finger up and 
down.  Pushing the lips apart gently and then letting them fall back 
together.  Needless to say, I was hard again quick.  When you're 21, you 
can recover quick, especially under unbearable provocation.

The mom was doing her usual head back and forth, eyes like slits, into 
her own orgasmic space.  I couldn't be sure at that time if she was ok 
with what I was doing.  So, after 20 minutes of snatch chewing and a 
tired tongue ready for a break, I had a woody and I got up and shoved it 
into mom.  Her daughter laid there with her nightie pushed up above her 
pussy while the bed just shook.  I had a second hard on and was able to 
pound away and still take my time blowing my load.

With slut mom's legs above my head, I finally reached the second orgasm 
and shot my load into slut mom's pussy.  It was less of a flow compared 
to the first blast on her daughter's face, but I wasn't going down on her 
again and we just drifted off to sleep, the three of us.

When I woke up slut mom was in the shower.  She was several years older 
than me.  A full time nurse.  I was a college student.  Might have been 7 
AM, which back then was like the crack of dawn.  Daughter had either gone 
or been put back in her bed, I wouldn't know since I was sawing logs.  
Then slut mom got dressed and grabbed a bowl of cereal before collecting 
daughter for the day sitter and heading to work.  She told me to let 
myself out when I felt like it.

I guess I was wondering about all of this, now that the insanity had worn 
off.  I mentioned something to slut mom while watching her eat breakfast 
that might have been something like "hey, I had a great time, I felt 
really close to you" or some such jazz.  I felt awkward, I mean, usually 
the chicks are looking for something meaningful, at least in my 
experience.  Her response forever labeled her "slut" in my book.

She said "Don't fall in love with me!"

"I got back on the pill so that we could fuck whenever because I like the 
way you eat my pussy and you have a big cock." [Look, that's not my 
opinion, that was hers!]

"If you want to fuck, just call me."

And that was how we left it.  Which 21 rear-old guy is going to leave it 
at that?  Not me.  Third time was just around the corner - the next 
weekend.  Had all week to figure out how to call a chick to ask her to 
fuck you without asking her to fuck me.  I still hadn't taken her 
literally yet.

So as usual we had some kind of party going on, so I called and invited 
her.  She said she would get a baby sitter.  After the party ran its 
usual course, I drove her back to her house.  She wouldn't let me leave, 
of course.  We both went in to relieve the baby sitter.  Cute coed.  They 
chatted in the hallway.  Looked like they were talking about the "catch" 
of the night.  Probably should have told slut mom to invite the 
babysitter.  Too fucking inhibited back then to seize the opportunity.

So, as soon as the door finally hit the sitter on the way out, we were on 
the floor with me getting through the panties to get the pussy.  Daughter 
was in the bedroom asleep.

So, after getting her panties off and getting her warmed up they way she 
liked it, we started doing stuff she wanted to do, the way she does it 
with others (like I said, I knew from the beginning that she got around, 
a lot!).

We were initially on the floor of the living room, and given that her 
daughter was in the bedroom, I assumed (still not really believing the 
past two times were somehow "real") that we were in the living room to 
fuck in "private."

So, we went at her suggestion to her "fuck chair" (I didn't know that's 
what it was until I was led to it!).  We fucked with her on top and 
somehow, she got down on my cock wrong and said it had hurt her.  
Frankly, she was looser than any chick I had ever fucked (a good thing 
back then for me), so I didn't know what had happened, but I was just a 
guy with wooden pole sticking up, so what would I know?

That put a damper on things for a while.  We got a bit irritable, but 
like I said, I hadn't done anything intentional.  We just sort of 
repaired to her bed room to lay down for a while.  The party had been a 
drink fest, so we were both a bit fucked up probably anyway.

Eventually, I got her relaxed and her legs apart.  She was more than 
encouraging to go back to where I had started, eating her pussy.  I love 
it, so it was fine with me.  And I was relieved that Mr.  Hyde had gone 
away and we were back on track to have a totally depraved evening.

And then, guess who shows up at the edge of the bed?  The 5 y.o.  fuck 
toy!

My senses were heightened about this little ritual.  Two's the charm, 
three times and we've got a pattern.

I practically stopped slurping on mom cunt and watched much more 
carefully what slut mom did next.

She kind of rolled lightly onto an elbow and reached over, putting her 
hand on the little girl's back, encouraging her to climb up.  As daughter 
did, that's when I noticed what I hadn't noticed before.  Slut mom eased 
her daughters Disney panties off of her as she came over the side.

That's why a beautiful little pussy was staring at me under pushed up 
nightie.  "Respectable" mom kept panties on her little girl, but, for 
some reason, decided that they best be removed before joining us 
"innocently" in mom's bed.  I really didn't know what to think of it at 
the time.

It took me awhile to figure it out.  What would you think, knowing that 
daughter did not attempt in the slightest to initiate anything sexual 
with me during these early episodes.  She was very passive.  I was 
puzzled 

Eventually, I just decided it was to keep me coming around.  She was 
pretty depraved, but she didn't need to have sex with her kid that I 
could tell.  Being such a slut, thought, I think she had a lot of 
turnover in fuckmates.  In an earlier chat I mentioned she was trying to 
turn over a new leaf.  I had not experienced her prior life, but this one 
seemed above the pale for most girls already.  If this was relatively 
prim and proper, then jeez, it must have been unbelievable before.

She was the one that said "don't fall in love with me." So she had 
already sort of rejected the "normal" way you keep a man coming around 
(give it when he wants but make him say "I love you!").

Well it didn't seem to bother her.  But I wasn't sure what was going on.  
I did get enough of a hint that I didn't worry much about trying some 
more with the fuck toy.  Maybe it was one of the few times when my 
inhibited self-paid off.  I didn't scare slut mom because I was too 
inhibited to just go nuts and assume too much.  I wanted a slower ramp.

So fuck toy climbs next to slut mom with no panties, but still with 
nightie.  Basically, like the last two times, just now I knew that slut 
mom had made some of the arrangements.

I immediately start taking liberties with fuck toy's pussy.  Playing with 
a bit more energetic.  Fuck toy moves in response.  I wouldn't call it 
"sexual" stimulation, just stimulation.

She shifts about.  Accepting my touch passively.  I push her legs up a 
bit with my free hand.  Spread her butt cheeks and look at her pink 
asshole.  I reach back and start to put my finger in my mouth to 
lubricate, but get nasty instead and stick it all the way into slut mom's 
cunt.

I make sure it is soaked with slut mom.  Then I rub my finger down fuck 
toy's leg toward her crotch.  I watch the glistening of slut mom's 
vaginal secretions as it traces a path on fuck toy's inner thigh.  Seeing 
slut mom take her daughter's panties off really let me explore my nasty 
side.  I pull my finger back and back into slut mom it goes.  I look up 
and slut mom is in her usual daze.

Slut mom knows how to frig herself and on previous occasions has taken 
matters into her own hands (literally).  On these occasions, I noticed 
that she likes a lubricated finger to do the frigging.

Sticking a finger in slut mom's cunt, pulling it out and positioning said 
finger in front of slut mom's mouth usually produces a saliva bath from 
her own tongue.  So I pull my cunt juice covered finger out and stretch 
my arm up to slut mom's face.

No exception this time either.  What's different is that slut mom’s cunt 
juice and her spit are now being rubbed onto her daughter's pussy.  All 
around the labia and then around the hood and against the hole.  I guess 
slut mom expected the finger to go against her cunt, and when it didn't I 
noticed she tilted her head forward and she glanced down quickly.  A very 
fast twist of the lips and then her head was back on the pillow.

So then what?  What would a man who's munching pussy do when a new pussy 
becomes available a few inches away?  At least the thought went through 
my head.  "EAT 5 Y.O.  PUSSY!"

But I'm more inhibited than many guys.  So that thought went through my 
head, but I still wasn't ready to stop munching slut mom's pussy and 
repair to her daughter's pussy, even though it might appear that a 
flashing green light was on.  Everything so far was kinda of "incidental" 
to the main sex act going on between slut mom and me.  I just didn't 
think it was prudent to be that overt.

I may be sckitzo.  I mean, isn't the typical script "the man starts 
munching the 5 y.o.  pussy and she writhes with pleasure have multiple 
orgasms.

So far, fuck toy is totally passive.  Not stopping anything, but not 
reacting in a sexual way.  And mom really hasn't done anything out of 
character for our fucking.  I could almost talk myself into believing 
that slut mom just doesn't want the need to take care of her daughter to 
scare her current fuckmate off.  Might have happened in the past, but I 
don't know since no conversation on this topic has occurred.

Maybe this is why in the light of day, when I had gone home and was 
around "normal" roommates and friends that I started to get judgmental.  
Asking for "hypothetical" advice about the suitability of a mother.

Those hypothetical conversations would go nowhere.  Pike some perverts 
interest and then I would have to back out looking stupid.  Fortunately, 
my other head did the thinking when it was really important.  To this 
day, I think that was what she assumed would happen.  Kept me coming 
around until finally quite some time later, I got back into the "normal" 
groove.

Anyway, instead of sucking on fuck toy's pussy, I got up and rammed a 
granite rod into slut mom's pussy.  When I was overheated, I pulled out 
and thought I was going to make the head, but as soon as I was out and in 
my hand, I knew I wouldn't make it.

So I straddled with the right knee between slut mom's legs near her 
crotch and my left knee on the opposite side of her daughter.  Old 
faithful blew and I just let it go where it wanted to (insane orgasms do 
that to guys).  Greasy globs landed in daughters nightie, on her left leg 
and on slut moms right hip and torso.

I kept stroking and it kept croaking.  I reached down and deliberately 
grabbed the bottom edge of daughter's nightie and wiped the head of my 
cock clean of pussy slime and left over semen.  Then slipped my hand up 
daughter's nightie and I wiped my "pumping" hand off on fuck toys belly.

This time I was deliberate, not instinctive.  When I guy blows a load, he 
changes from a totally insane lust driven animal to, very suddenly, 
disgusted with what he sees and feels.  It leads to a powerful emotion to 
degrade your fuckmate.  It's hard to explain, but most guys, especially 
when young, get carried away with this emotional swing.  Some chicks get 
into it.  Slut mom was one of them for sure.

Since I already knew that slut mom would want to where my semen all 
night, letting in congeal and then dry before hitting the shower in the 
morning, I didn't have much more to work with her.  I guess that's why I 
wanted the semen and pussy slime on my inner palm to be wiped off on 
daughter's belly.  I wanted her to feel nasty and dirty.  I wanted her to 
be my fuck toy.  Nothing seemed to be stopping me.

It was that incremental thought process that kept me coming back for more 
of slut mom - and her daughter.

At that point, with the alcohol from the party, the earlier blow up over 
"hurting" slut mom's pussy, and the feeling of regret and revulsion over 
using slut mom and her daughter as I had that night, I was done.  I 
collapsed on the opposite side of slut mom from her daughter and the 
congealing mess on both of them and fell asleep (yeah, yeah, typically 
man!).

But that wasn't the end of it.  Nope, I kept coming around.  And 
overtime, I got to see more and more of what slut mom was passively 
offering.  And as a result, I started getting integrated into their life, 
bit by bit.  Not moving in, but helping out slut mom.  Sometimes this 
meant fixing something or taking care of something.  But mostly it meant 
hanging out around her house from time to time when it was convenient.

Will tell more about how I got strung along later...

**************

Hey Kelly,

Attached is what I saw when I dumped my load on slut mom's daughter the 
second time she climbed into bed with us while we fucked.  I shouldn't 
have done it, but I my cock was too hard and I was insane from slut mom's 
pussy.  Her juice was covering my face and I just decided to roll the die 
and see what happens.  I didn't think I would be in trouble, but I was 
still a bit surprised to see slut mom reclaim her lost sperm bath by 
smearing her face in the facial slime covering her daughter.  That told 
me I hadn't begun to reach the limits of slut mom.

What happened next?  I took advantage of the situation, of course.  And 
my heightened senses on the third time the daughter climbed in bed with 
us gave me a mind blowing realization about what slut mom was doing.  
Daughter was clearly my fuck toy.  Why would only slowly reveal itself.

Next time we chat I'll fill you in on the details.

Tell me what you think of this tribute!  If you don't like it, well, be 
honest and tell me why.  If you like it, tell me how it makes you feel.  
Send me a pic if you feel like it.  Receiving a gift from you will only 
help my motivation and surely wouldn't hurt my productivity, either.

Xxxx, 
Dan


Chapter 11 - My First Tribute to Kari, My Daughter's 14 Year-Old Friend
=======================================================================

Hey Kelly,

I spent most of the weekend with my daughter Amanda and her team.  
Attached is a cute shot of my youngest daughter Amanda (on right) and her 
13 year-old friend Kari on Saturday.  The day was sunny, warm and 
beautiful.  What am I thinking when I took this image?  A fantasy I will 
include with the "after" image.  It involves Kari's mom giving me a no-
hands blow job.  And she's (willingly) in a compromised position to 
ensure it stays no hands.  Beyond mom's face I can see Kari in the dimly 
lit bedroom.  She is masturbating with her legs open on a love seat.  One 
foot is on the seat and her knee is bent up.  The other leg is stretched 
onto the floor.  Her hand works constantly on her clit in her hairless 
pussy.  Mom is trying to get me off with a combination of throating and 
sucking my cock while talking as nasty as she can, both about herself and 
her daughter.  She's motivated by the "rules" of our game that I will 
describe in the full fantasy.

Dan


Chapter 12 - My Second Tribute to Kari, My Daughter's 14 Year-Old Friend
========================================================================

SCENE 1
-------

Kari’s cute, thirteen to fourteen, small boobs still.  Always gives me 
the "yes sir" reply from a good polite upbringing.  But, the leer showed 
me there's a thirteen year-old sexual fire burning...

I use to masturbate about her more in the past.  The "yes sir" is not 
erotic but she has me fantasizing, and so it's getting nasty.

When I get the phone call, I already noticed that Kari was wearing those 
short sheer pants.  Look like long panties.  Tight, sheer or almost so.  
Meant for hot butts.  A LOT of chicks on the edge of preteen-teen wear 
them.  I was at the beach a couple of years ago and in the evening a 
thirteen to fourteen year-old walked by wearing one with bikini panties 
underneath.  Mom was walking with her.  Talk about a slut exhibition.

That's what Kari's mom has Kari teed up like but more conservative.  But 
in the room the masturbation thing starts.  But Kari tells me before that 
"mom picks out this stuff for me to wear.  I'm kinda shy about it and 
embarrassed sometimes..."

Mom wants her thirteen year-old daughter to look like a slut for her.  
Makes her feel young.  Probably watches the public reactions of the guys.  
Makes her feel slutty.  Mom is cute but not thin.  Big round milky white 
boobs.  Almost always likes to show cleavage.  But not the whore dress up 
thing, she saves that for Kari.

I get to their room after the phone call inviting me.  The mom told me 
over the phone "Kari told me that she told you some personal things and 
that you encouraged her to do what she and me makes us feel good.  Would 
you like to join us and talk some more?"

What could I say to that?

So I make it down to their room.  Mom lets me in.  Kari is undressed to a 
short top and the boy pants with thong underneath (sheer enough to see).  
Usual early teen flat tummy and "inny" belly button.  My pole begins to 
rise.  This is fuckin porn.  Mom is in shorts with usual scoop neck top 
and cleavage.  Bra is more push up than usual, otherwise, it's her 
typical "take a look" look.

Mom repeats her thanks for being kind and listening to Kari's personal 
thoughts without being discouraging.  I tell her that "not at all, I 
think it is wonderful the relationship that she has with you.  Maybe the 
most healthy I've heard of."

Mom blushes.

So mom tells me that she believes that the whole range of human emotion 
is for parents to address with their children.  I like the way this is 
going...

I restrict myself to encouraging sounds, avoiding saying much.  Blowing 
this opportunity by being too eager and coming off as a jerk is not gonna 
happen.  I'm too seasoned for that mistake.

She asks if sexually-oriented talk with girls bothers me.  I assure her 
that I think it’s only natural.  And Kari and I have already talked about 
some private things, so please feel free to say or do anything she (mom) 
feels comfortable with.

So mom turns to Kari and tells her that she looks so slutty tonight.  
Kari rolls her eyes and says "MOM, be cool!"

Mom ignores her daughter's embarrassed reply and moves over next to her.  
"Baby, you know I love you and I need you to help me tonight." Kari's 
eyes dart my direction and then stares straight ahead with a typical 
teenager "what do I do, I can't believe this is happening" look.  She 
purses her mouth and says, "Yeah I know mom, but can we talk some 
fantasies to make my mind go there?"

Mom's reply comes low and husky.  She knows she's on the right track.  
While what she says next is a question, it's only a device to let her 
release out loud the nasty feeling she has inside.

"Baby, can we get fucking get dirty tonight?  Nasty?  Mr.  Dan wants to 
hear what bad girls we can be."

Kari's eyes dart once more my direction, surprised that my presence is 
overtly mentioned.  She cracks an embarrassed smile but purses her lips 
to stop it.  Kari narrows her shoulder in a typical little girl shrug, 
like "why am I here?" But she isn't going anywhere.

"K, mom.  YOU start, ok?"

Mom had every intention of starting, to make sure it went as nasty as she 
felt inside.

Mom says, looking right at Kari: "Baby, I remember when you were barely 
11 and I first came into your room and touched you.  do you remember?"

Kari just grunts "uh huh" while her eyes look sideways with a "what's 
next" look.

Mom's hand then reaches to Kari's knee and starts up the thigh.  "Like 
this baby, remember?"

*****************

Kelly,

Mom was about to tell Kari about her smooth preteen pussy.  But Karli, my 
wife, just walked in.  I'll have to finish This later.

Meanwhile you can frig knowing that my wife is putting clothes away while 
I chat with you about Karli and her barely covered pussy and tits while 
her horny mom is working her way up her daughter’s thigh.  I'm doing that 
for you while she's here.  Cool?

Love and gnite, 
Dan

*****************

SCENE 1 (cont.)
---------------

As Kari's mom's hand moved up her 13 year-old daughter's thigh to begin 
their masturbation ritual, Kari's thigh's began to part in anticipation.  
The fingers on mom's right hand curled inward, with the tips lightly 
grazing Kari's inner thigh.  Mom's face was upturned, lips slightly 
parted as she mouthed obscene comments toward Kari's ear.  Kari's eyes 
became slits as she anticipated mom's next touch.

The edge of mom's index finger came to a rest in the crotch of her nearly 
preteen daughter, separated from the little pussy by only the flimsy 
fabric of the girl's very sheer cotton short shorts.  Mom began lightly 
rubbing the edge of her finger up and down the groove formed by her 
daughter's pussy lips.  I could see Kari visibly relax and her eyes 
nearly shut to allow the fantasy to mingle with the sensation of her 
mother teasing her pussy.  Kari's mom picked up the nasty talk with the 
contact with the girl's gentiles through the pants.

"Baby, remember when I first touched your little cunt?  It was soooooo 
smooth.  You were still just a little girl, no hair on the cunt at all.  
God it was cute." 

Kari breathed a soft reply.  "Yes mom, I remember." 

Mom continued.  "Baby, you became my little girl slut so fast.  I just 
touched your cunt and you wanted more.  Now, baby, your my favorite nasty 
little slut.  Baby?  I want to feel your cunt juices on my fingers.  
Baby, I've just got to get into your pants.  Be a dirty little slut and 
help me get them off." 

Kari said nothing, but with a motion that looked well practiced, she 
lifted her butt lightly off the hotel bed and slipped the fingers of both 
hands under the hem of the pants and slipped them lightly around her hips 
and down her legs, taking her thong with them.  Her short pants and her 
thong stopped at the end of her reach near her knees.  Then Kari's arms 
went back to her side and she waited for mom to continue.

I noticed that if Kari had begun growing pubic hair, it was nowhere to be 
seen.  Her pussy was as smooth and hairless as any preteen cunt.  My cock 
was rock hard in my shorts, but I left it there, with some difficulty, 
for now.

Mom wasted no time in moving her fingers into the folds of her daughter's 
small pussy.  She lightly rubbed the little girl's clit and hood, running 
the tip of her middle finger toward the girl's vaginal opening, but 
stopping short and moving back up and down in a measured motion.  She 
continued the nasty talk.

"Baby, do you like my finger in your dirty little pussy?  Hmmm, I want to 
smell your girl juice on my fingers.  Would you like that too?  Baby tell 
me you want my finger in your cunt.  Tell me to stick it in." 

Kari didn't say anything in reply.  Instead, she suddenly turned her head 
to face mom's face and twisted her head so that her parted mouth and lips 
settled on mom's mouth.  Mom immediately slipped her free left hand 
behind Kari's neck and returned the kiss.

I was surprised by how quickly it happened, and how intense it was.  I 
could see both of their jaws working back and forth.  From the looks of 
both the girl's and the woman's cheeks that fluttered back and forth the 
unseen tongues were together in their mouths, .  It was a deep sloppy 
mother- daughter lesbian kiss.  I was beside myself with lust as I 
watched saliva from the two-girl kiss seep out around both of their lips.  
They started smacking and sucking each other’s tongues in an almost 
violent display before returning to a lip locked spit swap.

Watching the drool running down mom's chin drew my eyes further down 
until I saw that mom's finger was inside her daughter's vagina more than 
half way to the second knuckle.  I assumed that Kari's cherry must be 
history with that deep of a penetration.  It occurred to me that mom 
probably was the one to have broken the hymen.  That thought was too much 
for me to bear and my cock had to come out for some stroke relief.  I 
leaned back in my chair and pulled the pole from its resting place in my 
shorts and began a light stoke.  I was in no hurry; I didn't want to blow 
this lucky load too early.  Who knows where I might be invited to launch 
it?

The wet kiss finally broke with saliva glistening on each girl's chin.  
Kari began to fall backward onto the bed and mom lay down beside her.  
Mom slowly pulled the finger out of Kari and made of show of watching the 
finger on the end of her hand come toward both of their faces.  As mom's 
finger came closer to mom's face, I could see the light sheen of pussy 
juice gleaming in the soft light.  Before mom finished the movement to 
her own face, she turned toward Kari and rapidly moved the finger to just 
below Kari's nose.

"Here you dirty fucking slut, smell yourself." 

Then mom wiped the finger along the girl's upper lip before moving it to 
her own mouth, where she sucked it clean with a loud popping sound.

"Hmmm.  Tastes like the cunt of a cheap whore.  You nasty piece of shit!  
You taste like sloppy thirds are pooling in your cunt!" 

That finally startled Kari into saying something.  "Momma, please, you 
know I haven't been fucked by a boy yet!" 

I had no idea of the truth of that statement, and mom just smiled an evil 
little smile and replied.

"I don't know what a whore like you does when I'm not around!  Why don't 
you bring any boys home, baby?  I want to fuck some boys and you don't 
bring them home, you stupid cunt!" 

Mom croaked this last in a lusty voice that told me she was still role 
playing.  But was she really?  Did mom want Kari to bring home young boys 
for mom's use?  Seemed plausible, but stroking my dick and watching and 
listening to this made anything erotic seem plausible.

I could see Kari starting to tense, like something deep within her was 
welling up to the emotional surface.  Mom noticed too, and put her finger 
back to work, frigging her little daughter faster than before.  Kari's 
legs started to straighten and then I noticed a slight shiver start to 
set into them.  Mom immediately removed her finger and bent over the 
girls pussy, clawing at her daughter's knees to spread them.  All I could 
see was mom's dirty blond hair on the back of her head as her face 
disappeared between Kari's thighs.  Mom's head started an almost 
imperceptible bob.  I imagined that mom was licking the girl's pussy, but 
I couldn't tell for sure from where I sat.

I got up with cock in hand and moved to the side to see what she was 
doing.  From my new closer vantage point, partly bent over to peer down 
into the depths of the unfolding obscene act but with my hard-on securely 
in my hand getting a maintenance stroke, I could just make out mom's 
tongue pointing toward the daughter's cunt lips.

Just then, Kari's knees suddenly bent and she drew her legs up a bit as 
she put her hand on mom's head and started breathing very hard.  Her head 
also started flipping back and forth stopping when the side of her face 
hit the bed and then flipping the other way.  Pleasure of which I could 
only imagine was obviously coursing through the 13 year old.  Kari's hand 
on mom's head began shoving hard so that mom's face was pushed deeper 
into the girl's cunt and then Kari's erupted with a curse laden rant.

"Oh god momma, lick my little girl's cunt.  I'm such a dirty slut!  
Please don't stop!  Lick my dirty cunt, PLEASE MOMMA!  PLEASE!" 

And then her arched back began to relax and she went silent again.  
Kari's hand fell from her mother’s head and I could once again hear the 
obscene sound of mom's tongue licking something largely unseen between 
Kari's legs.

As I watched hunched over and slowly fapping rock-hard man meat, mom's 
mouth slowly came to a halt and she began to lift her head up from her 
daughter's crotch.

"Baby, that was soooooo good.  You taste just as yummy as the first time 
I went down on you.  Did you get off?" 

Kari replied slowly and almost inaudibly.  "Yessss momma, I did.  It was 
soooooo cool.  Thank you for tasting my cunt at the end, it really made 
me cum hard." 

Mom, looking satisfied, said "that's why I did it.  You think I like the 
taste of raw pussy?  Hah!  Wait till I get paybacks." 

And then mom slowly began to turn her head my direction.  I watched 
without moving as her face swung around and I could see it was covered 
with enough saliva and whatever had been secreted by her daughter's pussy 
to positively shine in the uneven light.  How nasty could this show get, 
I wondered?

"So, Mr.  Dan, looks like your taking care of yourself just fine, eh?" 

I was caught a bit off guard.  Before Kari's mom had started masturbating 
her daughter, the conversation directed my way had been so, well, polite.  
Just like on the soccer field.  But now it was like I was suddenly in the 
inner sanctum.  And in a sense I was.  I started to stammer a reply but 
she continued speaking, making it clear the rhetorical nature of her 
question.

"Yep, doing just fine.  But haven't blown the wad yet, huh?" 

She turned to Kari and continued.  "See baby, there are some advantages 
to an older more experienced man, they can hold up before wasting the 
cum." 

She then turned back toward me.  "Ok, Mr.  Dan, let me take over.  I want 
you to use that fine dick of yours and whatever's waiting in your balls 
to show my daughter and I what dirty sluts like us are good for." 

This was definitely NOT the usual way a Saturday evening on the soccer 
trail usually ended.  Correction, EVER had ended.  Until now.  I released 
my cock, straightened up to my not inconsiderable height and took stock 
of the situation with one hand on my hip.  What was to come next needed a 
little planning.  While Kari's mom clearly had at least an outline of a 
plan, I could tell by her last statement that a bit of submission was 
involved and that meant I needed to take more than a little initiative in 
the grand finale.

"So, momma" I said, "the question is am I going to blow a load on a cheap 
whore and her pimped daughter, or are you just a an easy slut with a 
walking, talking fuck toy in a soccer uniform?" 

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Kari watching and resting, but 
she continued to say nothing.  Mom was obviously doing the talking for 
both of them.

"Now you’re talking Mr.  Dan." Kari's mom said by reply.  "Do you meet a 
dumb, full of cum MILF slut with a live fuck toy often?" 

That's when I knew how to play my role.  My man pole was still rigid.  
Not going to let me down tonight!  We eyed each other, mom and me, and 
then she made the first move.

SCENE 2
-------

Kari, a fourteen year-old teen girl who has just cum with the 
masturbation assistance of her mother, lies on her back and watches from 
the hotel bed as her mom moves quickly off the bed and down on her knees 
and scoots directly toward me.

Or more accurately, toward my firm cock suspended straight out from the 
base of my crotch.  My balls hang down in a fully extended scrotum.  
Aroused nearly beyond the point of sanity, I watch with my head down as 
she scoots over on her knees.  Then she reaches out and slides her right 
hand over the shaft of my cock, looks up and says: 

"Hey honey, if you ain't gonna wank that thing, mind if I do?" 

Frankly, I'm not sure I've ever heard her use the word "ain't." We've 
always exchanged pleasantries about events of the day without ever 
straying from anything "safe for work." Now she's holding my cock and 
beginning a light stroke and sounding like trailer trash just released 
from jail.  I guess now I'm talking to the "stranger" in Kari's mom.  But 
I'm too burdened with the feeling that comes from a hard cock with more 
stimulation in progress to give a damn about Dr.  Jekyll or Mr.  Hyde.

"Mmmmmmm" I murmur as I raise my head slightly and close my eyes to 
slits.  I'm standing there and she's on her knees stroking me with her 
clothes still on.  That amounts to a light tank top with scoop neck and a 
black bra pushing up two perfectly round globes of C-cup tits.  She's 
always been proud of them and even when she plays the part of Lady's 
Auxiliary Club role model (which has been every time that I've known her, 
until now!), she's always shared her cleavage with the rest of us.  "Good 
girl," I've always thought.  It's good to have a little pride in her 
wares of a women.

But this is different.  Much different.  For the last ten minutes she's 
been cussing up a storm while she frigged her own daughter to a sexual 
frenzy and then finished her off to orgasm by tongue lapping the little 
girl's cunt in a way that would make a bi-sexual porn model proud.  I 
jerk my head back down, snap my eyes open, and realize that I have a role 
to play too, and it's time I caught my cue.

My left hand slips behind her head and grabs up a bunch of dirty blond 
hair.  "Listen you whore, don't you yabber a bunch of shit at ME.  I got 
work for you and that mouth." 

With that, I closed my palm and fingers tightly around the hair I 
gathered, pulling it to the scalp and then pulled her head right to the 
tip of my cock.  She parted her lips instinctively and my meat member 
passed through the opening formed and made contact with her watery 
tongue.

All I heard from her was a low moan which I took to be pleasure, which 
then immediately turned into an obscene sucking and slurping sound as her 
lips, cheeks and tongue began working together to apply suction and 
stimulation to the shaft and head of my dick.  I moved my arm back and 
forth rhythmically to set the pace of the blow job, gripping her hair as 
tightly as I could, making sure her scalp was pulled tight against my 
fingers.

This continued for about a minute when I looked up and noticed little 
Kari looking at the both of us with a small pout on her face.  I couldn't 
tell for sure if she was upset, but as soon as she caught my eye her 
mouth turned even more directly to a frown.

Was she upset because of the unladylike like treatment that I was dishing 
out to her mother?  As ridiculous as that sounds, and as far from 
rational decorum as my sexually excited conscious was, a wee bit of 
"polite society" still intruded into my thinking.  I froze with mom stuck 
on my lollipop, but still sucking on her own authority without the 
benefit of me moving her head back and forth.  Then I spoke softly, 
almost tentatively, directly to Kari: 

"Hey sweetheart, why the rainy day look?" 

She replied almost immediately.  "I was hoping you came to see ME 
tonight..." 

Instinct, honed from a lot of mess ups with women and a few successes, 
immediately animated my response.  Almost with a violent tug of her hair, 
I pulled whore mom off of my cock with a loud pop.  (Damn good thing the 
bitch didn't catch me with her teeth!) She fell back on her legs from the 
kneeling position and caught her backward momentum with a hand to the 
floor.  But I was already climbing onto the bed, where Kari was.

Naked from the hips down and with a cock dripping of drool and precum 
from the previous cock stroking and the short blow job just ended, I 
knelt next to this pretty little barely teenage girl.  Her frown was 
already replaced with a slight grin and a barely audible giggle that 
arose from her throat as her body lightly bounced from my frantic 
movements to climb next to her on the bed.

Her legs were still parted from the show of masturbation and cunnilingus 
just ended with her mother.  Her tiny cotton top, with "spaghetti" straps 
over her shoulders and stopping well short of her belly button, covered a 
small A-cup push-up bra, origins unknown (yet).  "Probably Victoria's 
Secret," I thought.  Isn't that were all the preteen and teenage chicks 
with pretenses to being sluts shop now--with their mothers?

Then I leaned down, ignoring her totally naked abdomen, hips, and ultra-
cute (but small!) hairless pussy.  Instead, I wrapped my arms around her 
shoulders and slipped them underneath her back.  As I drew her up with my 
arms she collected her elbows underneath herself and my head went 
straight down to her lips, which parted immediately to allow my tongue to 
slide into her ready mouth.

That began a writhing, rolling, laughing, urgent, and saliva laden make 
out session like I had not remembered having since before I was married.  
This little girl and I kissed so passionately that perhaps I needed to go 
back to high school and my slut girl friend to remember anything so 
innocent and totally sincere.  We spoke nothing, but communicated 
constantly with laughs, nose rubs, sudden licks of tongues, and acted as 
though we were one.

My hands glided over this tiny little girl.  I marveled over the 
smoothness of her butt.  Her incredibly small waist enchanted me.  But I 
didn't push my hands up to her chest.  I didn't need to.  Everything I 
needed was in her small delicate but incredibly wet and alive mouth.  Our 
lips, cheeks, chins, even our noses soon became positively covered in our 
intermingled saliva.  While my rock hard dick was always there, after all 
I couldn't help but feel the tension of a 100% erection, I paid it no 
mind.  Kari's mom didn't even register in my conscious for what seemed 
like forever.

Then we both heard a rather flat, unimpressed voice rise to a can't-miss-
it level and say: "O.K.  you two fricken love birds, take a break and 
catch a breath!" 

We stopped with our tongues fully intertwined deep in her mouth and both 
started to giggle, blowing air through our sealed lips.

Prior to tonight, the thought of making out with this little hot stuff 
and hearing her mother say something like THAT would have meant the 
nightmare of being caught red handed in the act.  But this was no 
nightmare.  The echoes of my pounding heart seemed to me to fly off the 
masonry walls of yet another soccer motel.  Kari's arms, which had been 
mostly wrapped around my neck and head, slowly loosened.  Our lips 
parted.  And we turned our heads to look at whore mom.

"Good, now that I've got your attention, remember, this masturbation 
assistance club is not a one way street.  I've got some needs too, you 
know." 

"Yeah, well, I've been carrying around a man-sized hard on for the past 
hour.  What the fuck do you know about THAT, you dumb cunt?" I growled.

Kari's mom was no quaking teen.  She placed a hand on a hip and gave a 
side- wise glance at me.

"If you hadn't yanked it out of my mouth before I could finish, you might 
be singing the praises of my world class cock sucking right now and be 
putting the finishing touches of a Picasso of cock slime on little-miss 
man-stealer's face over there." 

I looked at Kari and thought for a minute.  She looked up at me with 
innocence and total trust while we lightly held each other.  While I had 
no problem with the concept of blowing my load on her young face and 
watching the milky sperm- laced semen sticking to her two rows of braces 
in that small mouth (that somehow I had managed to keep my tongue from 
getting stuck in during the frenzy of making out), I wasn't sure it was 
right to ask that of her first time.  Based on what her mom had been 
shouting to her about her failure to bring boys home from school to share 
with mom, I suspected that little Kari had not done her duty yet with 
respect to pleasuring a man or boy.  But I also knew that she would need 
to be introduced to this part of oral sex so that she would understand 
and readily perform what was expected of her when she started seriously 
dating.  And I allowed that I could play a special role in expanding her 
sexual awareness.  But, so could her mom.

"Baby" I said directly to Kari, "I need you to help me shut your fucking 
mom up, will you do it?" 

She did not hesitate, "Sure, I'd love to, What is it?" 

"Come with me to the side of the bed." I replied.

With that, we crawled over to the side where Kari's mom waited.  Mom 
brightened as we came toward her.

"Cool, I thought you'd be reasonable.  What we gonna do next?" She spat 
out in broken grammar laced with anticipation.

Before she could finish I had swung my legs around and I was sitting on 
the edge of the bed.  Kari did the same.  I reached out and guided mom on 
her knees and stopped her in front of me.  Or, I should say, in front of 
my hard cock standing straight up.

Next, I reached down and took Kari's hand and lightly pulled it over to 
my hard cock.  She immediately got the message and wrapped her hand 
around the shaft and looked up at me for instruction.  I said nothing but 
just started moving her hand up and down on the shaft.  By now it was 
mostly dry but her tiny, soft hand left an incredible tingle in the head 
of my cock that I simply can't describe.

Then I began to speak slowly and directly to Kari's mom.  "OK, you dirty 
slut, I've got a job for you.  Your mouth is my condom, and your little 
girl is going to be my stroker.  Like you said, she needs to learn to 
suck a boy off, but she should learn that from her mom, don't you think?" 

Kari's mom immediately broke into an wide, evil grin.  "Mr.  Dan, you 
have one hell of a way with words.  I accept your challenge.  It is my 
duty and my right to show my daughter how a women pleasures a man." 

With that, she bent her head down and resumed sucking on my cock.  Kari 
stroked lightly, but did not really understand what she was to do, so she 
just kept doing what I had showed her.  Mom reached up to take over the 
stroking, but I blocked her arm.

"Whoa, whore, you teach, you don't do." 

Her eyes' flicked up at me with a gleam of understanding and without 
breaking the sucking action, she used her hands to gather both of Kari's 
hands around my shaft and squeezed them enough so that the stroking would 
do some good.  The spittle that was left on the shaft from mom's mouth 
acted as replacement lubricant for the drool that had since dried from 
the earlier interrupted blow job.

This continued, with mom sucking and making nasty loud popping sounds 
from the suction, while swirling her tongue around the head of my cock, 
from time to time pushing it into the hole at the end searching for 
precum.

From time to time she pulled my cock out of her mouth and spoke to Kari 
in short clipped sentences about what she was doing.  She explained the 
need to use her lips to cover the cock shaft and to use the tongue to 
bath the cock in a warm sensation of stimulation and saliva.  She warned 
Kari about the cock going too far into the mouth and throat because of 
the gagging reflex that would surely hamper a girl her age.  And she 
urged her to keep a steady hand on the shaft so that she could regulate a 
future boy's unauthorized lunge in that direction.  ("Baby, boys are 
pigs, they have no control.") 

For now, I let them do the blow jobbing and avoided adding to the action.  
Instead, I tried to concentrate on raising a world class orgasm so the 
ejaculation would be worth their effort.

It didn't take long.  With mom urging Kari and squeezing her hands, 
Kari's grip on the shaft tightened to the point where I could feel the 
contractions of orgasm near.  Mom couldn't tell by feel, but she kept a 
close eye on my eyes and facial expression and she caught the drift.  A 
sense of urgency began to take hold of her and her sucking and licking 
became intense.  She started to make grunts and whines to urge Kari along 
with her own hard grip on the child's hands.  That's when my loss of self 
control began to manifest itself verbally.

"Oh God, Oh God, yes that's good, So fuckin good." Then my eyes opened 
and I looked down and snarled at mom.  "Hey dirty fuckin hoe, what you 
say to this?  Your little girl is jerkin my manhood in your fuckin mouth.  
Do you HEAR me you fucking hoe, YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!  Keep jerking baby, 
I'm gonna use your mom's mouth and face.  Oh God!  Oh God!  I'm going to 
use it good, fuckin good!" 

Kari just looked at my face and kept jerking my cock with her hands as 
best she could.  Mom kept her eyes glued to Kari's hands and supervised 
the stroking.  She knew that she would know right after me when I blew 
the wad.

And, then, that's exactly what I did.  My left leg started shivering and 
my cock started to spasm.  My prostate got caught in a vice of 
contracting muscles as the orgasm hit me from head to toe.  With the 
other leg starting to shiver, I put my hand underneath the lower hand of 
Kari as she kept pumping but not knowing exactly what was going on.  I 
grunted as evenly as I could under the emotional torment of the orgasm so 
as to not scare Kari or make her feel she was doing something wrong.  
(After all she was doing great with mom's help!) It came out in measured 
but quick one word sentences.

"Baby.  Great!  Awesome!  Nice!" 

Then I pushed her hands up from underneath.  She looked surprised as I 
pressured her hands and the motion popped the pumping cock from mom's 
mouth.  The first rope of ejaculate had already into mom's mouth flowed 
like a stream of piss after three beers.  I could feel the instant that 
the slippery slime filled the woman's mouth cavity.  The feel of the 
extra lubrication was sudden.  Now, the cock was pointed at the woman's 
upper lip and nose and the second rope blasted into her face like it was 
shot from a gelatin gun.

And it kept shooting.  The third rope was less and now the ejaculation 
was winding down.  Mom's hands covered Kari's and she used them to work 
the cock head up and down and back and forth.  The smell of the semen, 
sharp and odoriferous, floated up to my nostrils.  Kari's mom was 
dripping with it.  But she knew her role and acted it out well.

"Yes Mr.  Dan, show my baby how a man finishes his blow job in a woman's 
face.  That's right, yeah that's it, make me a dirty mess.  Kari, baby, 
do you see what semen is, baby?  See it honey doll?  This is what I want 
you to bring home to ME, baby.  Please, lots of young cock that need our 
services.  Yeah, baby.  Look at the goo run down my nose.  Emm, I got it 
in my mouth baby.  Lots of sperm.  Emmm." 

That's when I chimed in: "You fucking whore mom.  Do you see what you 
made me do?" 

Turning slightly to Kari I continued.  "Baby, I promise, when I finish in 
your mouth, it won't pop out and make your beautiful face nasty.  Really, 
sweetheart, all you will have to do is help me stroke it off in your 
mouth, ok?" 

I was recovering my senses and I wanted to return to the tender, romantic 
feeling we had before the blow job grand finale.  I took my right hand 
and used my fingers to gently stroke her neck and raise her chin toward 
my face.  She rose immediately, letting go of my cock and wrenching her 
hands out from underneath her mom's hands.  Mom kept stroking and using 
the cock to spread the ejaculated mess around her face, taking little 
sucks from the head of the cock as she did.

Kari and I immediately went into a lip lock and I felt her tongue against 
mine.  Then she slipped away slightly and quietly said: "Ok, that sounds 
like it will be fun.  If it makes you happy to do that, I'll do it.  I 
feel soooooo good with you right now." 

Then with a slight inflection in her voice she almost broke my heart when 
she said: "Will you hold me and kiss me some more?" 

I laughed lightly and said: "Yes, of course Kari sweetheart!  Let's move 
back onto the bed and put some space between us and this used condom..." 

I finished with a weak gesture toward her mom, who by now had let go of 
my pecker and was licking her lips and playing with a wad of semen like 
some internet porn hoe.  Kari's mom was still dressed and that's when I 
noticed semen and probably saliva had dripped onto her halter top.  She 
might as well have been a cum whore on ImageFap for all I cared at that 
moment.

Kari and I moved back to the middle of the king-sized hotel bed and 
settled down to some late middle school, early high school making out.  
And if felt great!

SCENE 3
-------

"Kari, honey?" I said just above a whisper.

"Hmmm?" A soft murmur with a small inflection at the end was Kari's only 
reply.  This fourteen year-old teen girl possessed an athletic body 
sculpted from hours of running on a soccer pitch in practice and in 
games.  Combined with her naturally slight build and the gift of being a 
very young girl, hardly out of puberty, I was beyond myself with animal 
attraction to this Venus of youth.  It was an unfair advantage to compare 
her simple, natural, and innocent beauty to anyone not her own age.

And she showed no shame whatsoever to be laying on top of me.  Her small 
early teen A-cup breasts were still captured in a pink push up bra 
designed by some lingerie specialist to be knowingly marketed to girls 
who were as close to preteens as was possible without actually being one.  
Against my chest, the fabric of the tiny spaghetti-strapped pull over top 
hardly masked the feel of the bra and the breasts they contained.  And 
below this pull over top that did not reach midriff the tiny young girl 
was naked.

For that matter, so was I!  And that meant the girl was straddling my 
waist while laying on top of me with the both of us lying in the expanse 
of the king-sized hotel bed.  Normally, we veterans of a soccer traveling 
team groan when we get stuck with the remaining rooms in a sold-out hotel 
outfitted only with king size beds.  It means awkward moments and efforts 
to find an alternative to male and female family members sleeping on the 
same bed.  But now I had enough insight into Kari's and her mom's 
masturbation habits to realize that a king-sized bed was no accident in 
their room.

With her legs flowing around either side of my waist, it meant that her 
small, hairless pussy was laying straight down on the next place it would 
touch.  Her pussy lips were literally spread around my semi-hard cock.  
It was semi-hard because of the fabulous hand and blow job administered 
by her mom, with Kari's help.  Now I was relaxed, not pent up.  I had the 
sanity and presence of mind to just hold the little girl against me.  And 
she did the same to me.  Her arms wrapped around my neck while mine 
covered her back and gently stroked her butt and legs; straying from time 
to time up her back.  I looked down at her and she up at me.  Our noses 
touched and we kissed and smacked lips in an absent minded way while 
exchanging a few words back and forth.  

Kari's murmur was that of a young girl experiencing the pleasure of a 
soft touch and warm embrace.  But unlike the familiar experiences of her 
youth, this now came from a man who was intent on making it an erotic 
moment.  Her pleasure at finally experiencing what girls her age and 
younger had been gossiping about seemingly forever was palpable.  Like 
nearly all girls her age, she was constantly questioning her self-esteem, 
certain that some other girl that she envied was receiving this exciting 
experience whenever she wished, all because the "other" girl was 
prettier, more comfortable with herself around boys--and men--and was in 
turn desired by boys--and men--above herself.

But now it was happening to her!  Her body nearly shook with pleasure.  A 
pleasure that strangely manifested itself with a churning stomach, a 
sweaty brow, a feeling like her face was aflame and red, and a wetness 
and warmth between her legs that defied even the regular pleasure that 
came from masturbating with her mom.  This was something totally new.  
And every time this man said something, he seemed to provoke the feeling 
anew.

"Baby doll, you are so pretty!  I am so lucky to have a girl as beautiful 
and sexy as YOU with me tonight!  Did you just now come down from heaven 
to be my angel?  Where are your wings, baby!  I know they're here 
somewhere." 

She writhed when I purposely touched her sides and goosed her lightly.  
The tickling was magnified by the intensity of the other sensations and 
the pounding of her heart.  Fortunately for me, she caught herself before 
banging my chin and nose with the top of her head.  I instinctively tried 
to raise a hand to protect my chin, but it would have been far too late.

"Whoa, you gorgeous thing!  I'm going to have to be more careful before I 
pull that stunt again!" I said while angling my head defensively away and 
laughing at having nearly caused my own painful injury.

Kari just giggled and chased my retreating mouth with hers and then we 
were French kissing with passion and urgency all over again.  It had been 
like this for a while since the successful conclusion of the mother-
daughter hand and blow job.  How long I didn't know nor had I cared.

In fact, I had assumed that her mom would retreat to the bathroom to 
clean the mess of semen I had deposited over most of her face.  Most 
women did that, with a run to a towel, any towel, that bespoke the lack 
of appreciation for the complement just paid.  I had grown used to it.  
So I assumed that the return of Kari's mom from cleaning up would be the 
alarm clock for this joyful interlude with Kari.

I had not considered that Kari's mom might have another point of view 
when it came to receiving a face full of sperm from me.  Instead of 
running to the bathroom, she had found the standard hotel room recliner 
and laid back in it still fully clothed in shorts and her scoop neck 
halter top, with her ample C- cup tits bound up in a sexy black bra.

As I swung my head down following the near collision with Kari's head, I 
looked over Kari's face while we lip locked and spotted her mom there in 
the chair.  One hand was pushed up into her shorts through one leg 
opening.  The other hand was stuffed in her bra where I could clearly see 
that it was cradling a creamy tit inside the straining bra.  The first 
hand was virtually certain to be frigging her pussy.  What else could it 
be doing?  And, with her head back, I could see in the low light from a 
weak hotel compact fluorescent lamp on the table that a shiny mess left 
over from my ejaculation was still covering her face.  She was wearing 
the sperm-infested man paint like a trophy.  Her mouth was open and her 
lips formed a circle as the sound of light breathing through them reached 
my ears.  Her eye lids were shut, but only lightly so.  Both of her arms 
were moving with the effort of masturbating herself.  That was when I 
realized that fair was fair.  Kari and I owed her mom something.

"Hey, Kari, listen to me." As I pulled my lips off of the little beauty's 
mouth.  She tried to prevent it, but I was stronger.

"Kari, baby doll...yes, baby I know, I know, I like it too sweetheart..." 
I laughed while fighting off her mouth searching urgently for mine.  
"Look, you gorgeous thing, we need to do something for your mom." 

Kari relaxed as this statement settled down upon her like a fact that 
could not be ignored.  For being only 14 and with her lust suddenly 
stoked to a fiery pitch, I was impressed with her maturity at handling my 
interruption.

"O, ok Mr.  Dan, yeah, I guess you're right." 

I was impressed with her wish to continue referring to me with the modern 
version of what a polite kid says in reference to an adult.  At least she 
wasn't calling me "Mr.  Dirty Old Man"!  "Look, since you are the one who 
usually helps her with that over there..." I gestured toward the MILF in 
the process of masturbating herself to orgasm "why don't you call her 
over here and we'll help her out together.  How does that sound?" 

"Ok, sure, that sounds cool." Was Kari's suddenly enthusiastic reply.

Then she lifted herself up off my chest with her hands and twisted to 
face her mother across the room and said "Hey momma, Mr.  Dan and I want 
you to come over here with us!" 

Without slowing down her hand from what I could see she must be doing to 
her pussy buried underneath her shorts or moving her head from its 
position hanging back resting on the top of the recliner, she replied 
"Why baby?  I'm trying to get off over here." 

"Momma, 'cause we want to help you feel good in your pussy!" Was Kari's 
quick reply.

Kari's mom seemed to ignore her daughter for a moment longer, but then 
her hands started to slip out of her clothing, and she leveled her head 
in our direction.  "Really?  I thought you two were going to fuck and 
leave me to my own devices!" 

Despite everything that had just happened of a sexual nature, things that 
could only be partly explained with the phrase "assisting masturbation." 
And despite everything that her mother had said to her daughter in lust 
filled nasty statements, I still nearly blushed at the reference to 
fucking her daughter.  Call me old fashioned, but I just wasn't prepared 
for her mom to be practically betrothing us after less than one date!

Her mom then got out of her chair and climbed onto the edge of the bed.  
The sturdy king-sized bed took hardly a notice.  I saw her recently sperm 
covered face coming my direction like a strange character in a low-budget 
movie.  It had to be drying on her face by now, but it was still shiny in 
the soft light.  And I saw something that might have been semen start as 
a drop hanging off her cheek but then start to stretch into a long strand 
from the jostling of her movement.  It finally parted from her face and 
fell onto the bed spread, disappearing in the maize of the fabric.  I 
thought to myself, "Glad I'm not making the bed in the morning." 

As mom got close, Kari reached out her hand and slid it behind her mom's 
head, pulling her toward us.

As I watched, I whispered to Kari "give her a kiss, sweet thing." 

Why I said this should be no mystery.  I'm a man, and I like seeing 
chicks kiss.  I especially like seeing two girls kiss while wearing my 
manhood.  There's no point in looking for a reason.  A man simply likes 
this act of lewd and nasty behavior from the girls in his life.  He just 
does.  Tonight was no exception.

Kari looked back at me and gave me nasty flick of her tongue.  Where did 
she learn THAT I wondered.  It didn't take long to conjecture an answer.  
This "innocent" little girl had been around other "innocent" teen and 
preteen girls, her peers, long enough to pick up all manner of nasty 
thoughts and behaviors.

Kari immediately swiveled herself across my chest to face her mom.  In 
the process, I was now facing a most beautiful site.  A pink and 
seemingly impossibly small pussy.  It was slightly spread open by the 
physical separation of her legs.  I could see the clitoral hood between 
the larger lips of the labia.  Her vaginal hole was still invisible.  Her 
tightly clinched anus was clear as day, perched above the lower end of 
her pussy lips, where they taper away into her butt crack.  I was 
immediately smitten by the beauty of this display.  So did my dick.  A 
steady stirring began, like a snake coming alive from the touch of the 
first rays of the sun in the morning.  My snake.  I felt a slight pulsing 
from my cock head.  This meant a loss of sanity could be in my future if 
this continued.  Kari's beautiful, small, hairless, perfectly formed 
little girl pussy remained suspended above me.  Her ass started wagging 
as her other end began doing something.  I assumed it was with her 
mother.

I peered around the little girl's thigh to see what I was missing.  Mom 
and daughter where lightly kissing and rubbing noses and cheeks.  Mom was 
whispering to Kari encouragement and instructions.

"Come on Kari.  Yeah, that's cool.  Ummmmm, that's it lick it off of me.  
Good girls share the sperm." 

And then mom chuckled from the silliness of that last comment, not to 
mention the tickling that came from her young daughter's licking and 
kissing across the mother's face.

I saw a congealed tendril of what I assumed was sperm filled semen 
rolling on her mother's face as Kari licked.  And then it caught on the 
lower lip of Kari's mouth.  And then it was gone, somewhere in Kari's 
mouth.  That was all I could take.  My cock had reached full mast.  This 
display of mother- daughter nastiness was stimulation that no man could 
resist.  My erection was proof of my own weakness.

My erection took over my thinking, if thinking is a word that you can use 
to describe a man in my condition.  I reached up and placed both hands 
around Kari's butt and directed my face right into the little girl snatch 
that was teasing me inches above my head.  My nose disappeared between 
the bottom portion of the lips framing the upside down cunt.  My lips 
parted around one of her pussy lips and my tongue slid into the folds of 
her cunt.  I swirled my tongue and tasted the acidic flavor I knew all 
too well.  A fourteen year-old cunt tastes about the same as any other.  
It's just in the nature of things.  The smell was vintage pussy.  For 
just a moment I almost launched my face hard into her pussy, as temporary 
insanity overcame me, but I resisted losing control.  Why risk possibly 
hurting her or upsetting a good feeling by becoming a pig?  I could tell 
I was on the hairy edge of a sexual lust that could take over all my 
actions.

Kari reacted positively to this violation of her most private inner 
sanctum.  Her butt leaned back lightly into my face.  I then broke the 
embrace of man on pussy and lightly moved her butt aside and addressed 
her mom directly.

"Hey, cool chick, you need some help with those clothes?" 

I gently pushed Kari further to the side that her body had slid while 
kissing and licking her mother’s ejaculation covered face.  That slid 
Kari off of me and she landed on all fours on the bed.  I was able to sit 
up on the bed and fold my legs underneath me, giving me a front row view 
of the action.

I decided it was time for the party to get naked.  Placing a hand on 
Kari’s back I lightly tugged her top so she leaned back toward me.  I 
then whispered loudly “Kari, let’s get your mom naked!  You take her top, 
I’m going for her bottom.” Kari nodded her understanding and we both 
turned toward her mom, whose eyes were mostly shut and both hands were 
down on the bed supporting her.

Kari started pulling up on mom’s top, which made mom sit up and raise her 
hands high.  I reached down and pulled the button holding her shorts 
closed.  Then I pulled the zipper down, revealing lacey black hip-hugging 
thong panties in the wedge created by the parting zipper.  I took hold of 
the legs of the shorts and gave them a light tug, and they yielded across 
mom’s hips without much protest.  The shorts stopped when they hit the 
bed at mom’s knees.

I turned my attention to the thong, slipping my fingers over the thin 
straps and pulled them down.  The front of the panties rolled down 
revealing the woman’s pussy in the triangle formed by her thighs.  I 
instantly felt my excitement provoked at the sight of her female anatomy, 
like seeing a wonderful view after cresting a hill.  As the panties 
joined the shorts at the knees of the woman, I took a closer look at my 
quarry.  It was hairless as far as I could see in the dim light.  The 
pussy lips were expansive reflecting the maturity of the woman, and the 
noticeable heft that came with her slightly more than full figure.  I 
could see a large clit and hood protruding from the lips, probably 
engorged by the woman’s own vigorous stimulation.  Clearly she was 
conscious of her looks down there because her whole pubic area was smooth 
and free of hair.  I liked what I saw.

“Hey Kari, your mom’s pussy is pretty!  Just like yours.  Cool.” 

I looked up to see her mom’s breasts right in front of me.  Kari had 
helped her mom remove the top and the bra in no time at all.  I had to 
admit, the cleavage she had always been proud of was reflected in the 
naked tits themselves.  I looked at mom right in the eyes and said “hmm, 
nice tits honey.” 

She smiled quickly and replied “cop a feel sailor?” 

I took the invitation literally and reached out and massaged the nearest 
one.  It was soft and very pliable.  Natural all the way.  “The real 
McCoy, eh?  I love them sweetie!” was the cheeky comment that spilled 
from my lips.

Then I looked at Kari.  Her top and bra were the only stitches of 
clothing left on her.  As for me, I had taken my shirt off after the 
blowjob.  I said “Baby, time to get you naked.” even though she had been 
naked below the waist for quite some time.  I reached over and lifted her 
top from the hem.  Rather than let me finish, she crossed her bent arms 
and pulled the hem up herself and over her head.  It was an erotic sight.  
Her tight figure framed by her butt bent one way and her torso angling 
the other.  As her top lifted, she looked momentarily like a porn model 
in mid act.  If my cock could get any harder, it just did.  The back of 
the pink bra was suddenly revealed to me.  Without hesitation, I reached 
over with both of my hands and began struggling with the single clasp; I 
was never good at releasing boobs from a bra (James Bond must get some 
help when he does it!).  She cocked her head in my direction and began to 
smirk.

“Hey Mr. Dan, need some help?” 

Just then the clasp popped open and the previously tightly pulled straps 
suddenly went slack.  I immediately slid my hands to either side of her 
torso and kept the bra moving off of her from the front.  As I reached 
around her front I slid both palms over her young A-cup titties.  They 
were firm with small nipples pointing straight out.  I could not see 
them, but I knew their shape and youthful dimensions were certain to be 
better than beautiful.  Just the feel prompted me to say “Hey, baby doll, 
you have awesome tits.” 

She asked, in a suddenly defensive voice, “Are you sure Mr. Dan?  Really, 
do you think so?” 

Typical, I thought.  She’s insecure about her breasts, like virtually all 
women, but especially a young teenager.

I twisted her half way around in my direction and saw what I had been 
touching.  That allowed me to pour on the flattery.  Her question was not 
seeking an answer, it was seeking reassurance.  I did not want to let her 
down.

“Kari, darling, you have the most magnificent tits.  Please tell me I’m 
not dreaming.  I absolutely love your breasts.  You are totally gorgeous!  
And your tits are just another perfect part of you.” 

With that I turned back toward mom and wrapped an arm around her and 
pulled all three of us closer.

“Momma, Kari and I want you to be as happy as we are tonight.  Why don’t 
you lay down and let us get to work on your fine clit?  By the way, I 
love your shaved pussy!  I’m just going to have to call you my two little 
girls.  I absolutely love it.” 

Turning to Kari, I gave a quick instruction.  “Kari, let’s get your mom’s 
legs apart and get her off together.  What do you say?” 

She said nothing.  Both her and her mom had obviously used this position 
and this division of labor for sexual stimulation before.  And more times 
than once I was sure.  We alternated licking mom’s pussy, covering the 
clit with saliva from our tongues and encouraging each other to suck her 
genitals into our mouths and suck her off like a blow job.  We snuck a 
quick kiss between each other from time to time, too.  It took only a 
short time to bring her mom to a loud and physical orgasm.  Holding one 
of the woman’s thighs was a chore.  How Kari held the other beats me.

Following mom's orgasm she just went limp on the bed.  Her finger's, 
which had been sharing time with our tongues on her clit, stopped moving 
and went slack while lightly touching the edges of her pussy lips.  I 
could tell that the events of tonight had exhausted her and as her 
breathing returned to normal, she drifted off to sleep.

My face was covered with an accumulation of vaginal secretions and the 
spit of Kari and I the likes of which I had not known for years.  And I 
had a steely erection.  Under the influence of this erotic stimulation, 
my cock had not needed a longer break to recover.  But as I gathered my 
thoughts I knew my bewitching hour was upon me.  I would be lucky to make 
it back to my room without being noticed in the hallway by others in our 
group.  Or worse, Amanda might have returned to our room early.  I needed 
to get back in my own bed before this amazing set of events took a turn 
for the worst and required immediate explanations.  Ignoring the yearning 
in my cock and a nagging belief that relief for that erection could 
easily be found inside the body of a fourteen year-old hottie resting on 
the other side of her mother, I twisted my body to the edge of the bed 
and swung my legs around so my feet hit the floor in a sitting position.

I stood up and started rooting around the floor for my shorts and shirt.  
I figured I would chance it and leave the room with a face covered in 
pussy juice and spit.  If anyone decided they needed a hug from ole Dan 
tonight, they might decide they were hugging a vagina instead!  If I 
thought I knew of no one who would try that tonight, I was mistaken.  I 
heard a small voice back on the bed.

“Mr. Dan, why are you leaving me so soon?” 

I stopped fumbling with my clothes and lifted my head.  I knew I needed 
to go, but I didn’t want to upset the beautiful teen behind that voice 
either.  She was experiencing, perhaps for the first time, the emotional 
pleasure of an erotic experience with a male admirer.  That could easily 
lead to an infatuation that might result in a disastrous emotional 
letdown.  I did not want to hurt her.  And I surely did not want her to 
hurt me.

Before I accepted the original invitation to come to this room, I had 
considered the potentially thorny problems that might arise.  Because the 
invitation came from her mom, I was pretty certain that if anything like 
what I hoped might happen actually did, then I would have mom to help 
manage the aftermath.  Now that it had happened and more, I knew that I 
would need to contact mom at the next opportunity to work out an 
understanding.

But right at THIS moment, I realized I had a responsibility to talk to 
Kari about what we had done and experienced.  I had to find away to leave 
her with a positive feeling about our mutual expressions of affection.  I 
was sincere in that affection and I had a growing feeling that she was 
too.  But that door leading to the hallway also lead back to the real 
world.  And I knew it was too “real” out there to understand what had 
happened in here.  But I had to do something and do it fast.

“Hey Kari, come here sweetheart?” I asked in reply.

Stark naked, she crawled off the bed and came over to me.  I intercepted 
her shoulders with my hands and glanced down her front.  It was an 
incredible sight.  Her perfect young mounds with tiny nipples on the ends 
looked marvelous on her ultra slim shapely body.  And further down, past 
her flat tummy, there was the erotic image of her pussy, looking 
childlike in its smooth and clean but tiny symmetry.  I saw two 
protruding lips with an enigmatic dark crease in between.  I thought it 
might be the most beautiful sight a man could hope to see.

I drew her to me and embraced her.  In turn, she rested her hands on my 
broad shoulders as her tiny body folded into mine.  I looked down on her 
upturned delicate face.  It inspired me to find the loving and 
encouraging words that I wanted to use to express my feelings.

“Kari, darling, please listen to me for a minute.” I began.  “You are the 
most beautiful and sexy young lady I have had the privilege to hold close 
to me.  I want to thank you for bringing joy and excitement to my 
evening.  It was your invitation, not your mothers, that I sought and 
accepted.  Now, we need to take the next step.” 

She looked confused and expressed her confusion with a question.  “I 
don’t understand, what’s the next step?” 

“Baby, I need to leave now and go back to my room.  You need to go to 
bed.  You have responsibilities in the morning.  It’s the right thing for 
both of us to do now.  There will be other days and other times for us to 
be together again…” 

Those last words provoked an immediate physical response from Kari.  Her 
arms flew up around my neck and her hands clasped together behind my head 
in a grip that practically sealed the front of her body and face to mine.  
This was followed by her urgent appeal.

“No!  I need you to stay with me.  PLEASE stay with me tonight.  I can’t 
bear the thought of going to sleep without you holding me all night.  I 
felt good when you kissed me!  I want to keep feeling good!” 

I sighed.  Had I underestimated the challenge I now faced?  Had I really 
thought through what I had got myself into?  Despite my unease, I 
couldn’t help but laugh at my predicament.  It came out with my reply as 
a chuckle.

“Kari, please understand.  Just because I can’t be with you any longer 
tonight doesn’t mean you won’t be in my thoughts and dreams all night 
long.  And you can do the same about me.  Please gorgeous girl...” 

Before I continued I took her cheeks into the palms of my hand and looked 
deep down into her youthful eyes.

“...will you dream about me too?  Will you pleasure yourself when you 
think of me?  I promise that we will spend time together again.  But for 
now, fantasize about me when you masturbate, ok?  I promise to do the 
same when I even think of your name, or dream of your voice.  Ok?  And 
when you see me tomorrow, think about our embraces.  Think about our 
kisses.  And know it will be like that again.  Soon.  Can you do that for 
me sexy girl?  Tell me you will, please sweetheart…” I ran out of words 
and let my voice trail off, hoping she would listen to me and understand.

There was only silence while her grip around my neck continued.  And 
then, I felt her fingers loosen.  And then they parted and her hands 
slowly slid down my neck and down my shoulders.  I slowly loosened my 
hold on her in turn.  And then she was standing very near with her arms 
at her side and her gaze straight ahead.  I could read a slight pout on 
her lips, but no more of her emotions leaked from her gaze.  I knew I 
should leave now, while there was still time.

Quickly pulling on my shorts and shirt in a silence that was now 
deafening, I started moving toward the door.  As I reached for the door 
knob, I heard her mother start to lightly snore.  I looked at the light 
coming through the crack in the door and hesitated.

“Kari, sweetheart you were wonderful this evening.  I think you are so 
beautiful.  Don’t forget what I told you, ok?” 

And then I looked directly into her eyes and smiled.  Standing like a 
statue of a naked nymph so common to the squares and plazas of old 
Europe, the gorgeous young teenager couldn’t help herself.  She returned 
my smile.  That’s when I knew it would be ok, at least for tonight.

I turned back to the door and listened for the noise of unwelcome company 
in the hallway beyond.  Hearing none, I slipped through the door and was 
thankfully welcomed by an empty hotel hallway.

With a face covered in pussy juice, I took advantage of my good fortune 
and strode purposefully back to where I belonged.

THE END