The Forbidden Family Game

by Ward Fulton

  "As young as I am, I could have told her it wasn't smart to let a guy into her panties every time one made goo-goo eyes at her. That's no way to get 'a husband, especially a second husband. When and if I decide to go after a man, he isn't going to get to the Great Divide until there's a license to hang over the bed. Oh^ play him along sure. But don't let him in the Pearly Gates until he'd said 'I do.'

  "That's cynical? Of course it's cynical. Our whole way of life is cynical. You heard only one side of it-how Mother has struggled to raise her two darling little girls on a paltry three thousand a month, and could barely make ends meet. She didn't happen to mention the Alfa-Romeo one guy have her, or the trip on another bird's yacht touring the Mediterranean, or the stock another one handed her. For what? You want to take three guesses?

  "I've lived that life now for a long time. Oh, we're not quite jet-set. We don't get classed, money-wise, with the Kennedy and Shriver and Onassis crowd. Of course, mother would like to be up there and she's always angling for some man in or near that bracket. But I'm afraid it's a lost cause. She gives in too quick. Besides, there aren't too many men hanging around with that kind of money, and, let's face it, Mother is no longer young and dewy-eyed. Carol's seventeen and I'm sixteen. Even granting Mother was a child bride-which she wasn't-she must be well into her thirties. Add it up for yourself. My best estimate is that she's over forty. Not much, maybe, but edging the downhill side.

  "I honestly can't figure why she pulled this raid on Dad. It had to be a setup, with Carol cooperating. Unless she just meant it for a shakedown, a farm of blackmail, and something went haywire. I know she had hinted to me that she'd like to get something on Dad, and did I know of anything, et cetera.

  "You may not believe it, hearing me now, with my hair down, but I can put on a lots better innocent act than Carol gave. Maybe because I can remember what being innocent was like, and I don't think Carol was ever an innocent. She had hot pants at eleven or twelve and was laying anything that came along, including some of Mother's boyfriends, by the time she was thirteen or so. But of course, none of that came out. Not, I suppose, that there are mitigating circumstances in a case of incest. It either is or isn't. Only I don't happen to think it's as terrible as lots of people think. Maybe because I've been doing it, and liking it.

  "When you live in a houseful of women-there was just Mother and the two of us girls, but that's a houseful-and with maids, there's something lacking. Maybe you don't realize it for a while. I know I didn't-not really-when I was younger, but it sort of built into something. There wasn't a man in our house. It's a lack that has to grow on you, this no-man bit.

  "Oh, visitors, yes. And Mother's boyfriends. But there was a hole in my life you could throw a horse through-if you're the type to throw horses. I felt it and didn't know what it was I felt. Carol felt it and knew what it was, all right. But with her, lacking a man was something different from lacking a father, though I suppose, to be honest, if we'd had a father around the house, things would have been different with both of us. Different and quite possibly duller.

  "As it was, Carol started remedying early. She was a little exhibitionist. She liked to have the men looking at her legs and, after she got boobs, to have them look at and, if she could arrange it, feel those. I don't know when she started letting them into her panties, but I do know that at thirteen she wangled a Palomino pony out of one of 'em. And at fifteen got a speedboat out of another-with other little trinkets along the way, like a diamond-studded wrist-watch and a lavaliere the original Madame de La Valier would have envied.

  "Mother was always bringing new men around-men who could afford Palominos and speedboats and diamond-studded wristwatches-and telling us she was looking for a new 'father' for her girls. She wasn't. She was looking for a new man for herself-with bankroll attached. Only she was too obvious-and too quick to open her legs. She was getting panicky, I think. And maybe, having to buy a little cock off some of the beach boys and those that hang around the club, the three thousand a month wasn't stretching as well as it had once. Also, she wasn't getting the presents like she had been. I think that's when she began to edge up on the idea of putting the bee on Dad for some nice lump sum, running maybe to a couple of million.

  "Dad wasn't having any. He and my mother.had split up years back, for reasons I don't know about, though I've heard at least five versions from Mother, up to and including the fact that she ditched him because he was a homosexual, which he definitely wasn't.

  "In addition to the alimony he paid my mother, Dad also gave both us girls allowances, which went up as we got older. He made it a condition of the allowance that each of us collect it in person, since Mother never let him have visiting privileges, though the court said he could have them. Originally, when we were younger, we'd go down to his office-it was very grand and blandly modern-together. Later, when I was about twelve, I think, we went on different days. Just how that came about I'm not sure, but I thought I detected Carol's hand in it.

  "I do know she was just as flirtatious with Dad as she was with Mother's boyfriends, even when I was along, sitting on his desk, right in front of him, and swinging her legs. Oh, I learned a lot from watching Carol, both at home and at the office. She knew how to show off her assets-and when I got enough to show, plus the urge to show 'em, I had a fine living example. Two, in fact, though I thought Mother was obvious.

  "I was maybe thirteen, then, and the newer boyfriends were eyeing me, which got me excited. Excited, but not real twitchy in the twat. Just a little juicy and about ripe for experimenting. And I decided to experiment on Dad. Oh, I didn't really intend to get laid. Just to see if I was able to stir things up-and how I'd feel, doing the stirring.

  "I wasn't just sure how I'd handle it, once I got to Dad's office. Usually I just sat and we talked. Dad was a good talker, interesting, because he didn't talk like he was talking to a kid, yet he could make a kid understand. I mean, he didn't talk over my head. Just gay and a little funny. Once in a while he'd take me out for a 'cocktail'-only it always turned out to be a soda or a sundae.

  "Oh, he'd hug me and kiss me when I came in and when I was leaving. The last couple of times he had looked a little startled and said something about my growing up, getting to be a young lady. Almost all older men say things like that, as if it was flattering you to be told you were growing up. Hell, I knew I was. And couldn't have stopped it if I'd wanted to.

  "Sometimes I almost wish I could have. I think I'd have stopped at twelve. That's the most exciting age, in some ways. Nothing has really happened but there are all kinds of promises, in the air, inside you. Not many of them come true, but the excitement's there, like for a kid at Christmas. Dreaming about it is the best part. You almost never get the present you wanted most and you do get lots of things you don't need and haven't any use for but have to write all those thank-you notes about.

  "So anyway, that day I went to Dad's office, feeling sort of built up and exhilarated just from thinking about flaunting myself at Dad to see how he'd react. I put on some real open-work panties that belonged to Carol and wore one of my kid sweaters that had some loose buttons and was just a shade tight across my boobs-which, to be honest, weren't very big. I didn't wear a bra-I don't think I owned one, then-or a slip. So what tits I had really showed up. I remember, I got sort of embarrassed at the way the elevator boy looked at me: Embarrassed but excited. He had that sort of speculative look every girl recognizes, from seven to seventy.

  "Dad's office was fabulous. Practically a whole floor, full of IBM's and tickers and clerks, busy as all get-out. But he had a special corner, a whole suite, to himself. And an ogre of a female who guarded it. And quiet! When he shut the door behind me-Dad always came out to meet us-you could hear a pin drop, if it didn't fall on that lush, dark-green carpet.

  "Dad is tall and dark and sort of saturnine looking-if that means what I think it does, which is that he'd just as soon screw a girl as look at her and if she wouldn't, well, maybe he'd try rape. Oh, I guess it do
esn't really mean that, but Dad has that sort of look, with a dash of deviltry thrown in. I never will figure out why Mother gave all that up for some of the pallid twerps she lets hang around. Of course, Dad wasn't as rich when they were divorced as he got to be later, so maybe that was it.

  "Dad flung one arm around my shoulders, called over to the ogre that he wasn't to be disturbed unless the building burned down, the Russians landed or the market crashed, and shut us in that big, quiet room. With his arms around me, he walked me over to that desk of his that looks as big as a landing field for jets and is just as clear. I don't know how he ever does any work, because I never see papers around or doodles on his blotter, the way you do in lots of offices. Dad says he does it in his head and doesn't have records the government can check, but that's just a joke.

  "On the way across that big, quiet room I started in on my campaign, feeling a little daring and just a bit scared. I caught Dad's hand and pulled it tighter around me, so he was resting it right on.my tit. He tried to pull it away but I hung on to it, babbling something girlish and getting a big kick out of feeling his hand squirm around on my boob. Actually, because my sweater was a little on the open-work side and stretched, he could feel my nipple. I know I could feel the roughness of his hand against it-and got hot duck-bumps. Which are quite different from cold duck-bumps that you get from being scared or a little chilled.

  "Knowing Dad was working to get his hand free meant he knew what he was touching-my boob-and that set off some delicious shivers in me. I was really getting into the swing of this thing of luring a guy. At the desk Dad indicated a chair for me and pulled his hand away from my tit, but not without the faintest sort of grab at it, just for a feel, so I was sure he was noticing I had something, something worth grabbing a quick feel of.

  "It was a funny kind of game we played, that first time. I was trying to see how much stirring up I could do to Dad. Dad was doing his best not to let me know he was getting hot rocks in his pants. I could tell, though, from the way he squirmed every now and then and got pink spots on his cheeks and his ears got red at the tip.

  "I leaned over the edge of the desk, managing to catch a button of my sweater on the edge so it pulled the neck of the sweater pretty wide. Frankly, I had to hold on to the button to make it work. And Dad cooperated by very much not looking. I mean, he'd swivel his eyes off my boobies that were threatening to pop out of my sweater and then dart a quick look back and away, so I knew he was getting the scenery.

  "I hadn't ever really tried to work on a man before. Oh, some of Mother's twerps had fondled a tit and given my legs the eye. But this time I was doing the routine-and getting reactions, from me, from Dad. Mostly, I was enjoying the excitement it was building up in me, seeing him getting wrought up and knowing it was all on account of my being female and doing very femalish things, like showing my boobs and wiggling them a bit.

  "I know it was corny but I tried it I got real girlish and jumped up and sat on his desk, sliding my miniskirt up and letting one leg dangle, so he could see almost to my split infinitive. A la Die-trich. Then I brought my other leg up and wrapped my arms around it. By that time Dad must have been looking directly up the Little Biggest Tunnel, my cunt, seeing as I had worn Carol's open-mesh panties. And if he could tear his eyes off that, he could look up and see my boobs practically out in the open.

  "He reacted, all right. His eyes were going practically like a metronome, from cunt to boobs-with his cheeks getting hotter looking and his ears redder. What I hadn't figured on was how I would react. It was real interesting. My cunt was getting the hots, and under my tits something started getting tighter and tighter, and hotter. And my belly began to want something-and it wasn't a chocolate double-dip malted with marshmallow topping, which I am partial to, mostly. It was prick I wanted, only I didn't really know it. Not yet.

  "I knew I was really getting the hots, because I could feel my cunt getting slippery with juices, like it did when I played with myself sometimes, or let one of Mother's twerps get too close to home base when patting me. I slid over and swung around on the desk, with my legs open right in front of Dad. I guess I'd done it a hundred times, when I was a kid and it didn't mean anything. You know, Dad would pick me up and plop me on the desk, and I'd sit there like a spraddle-legged doll, watching him count out the nickels of my allowance.

  "This time it meant something, even if I wasn't quite sure what. I mean, getting fucked is just words until it actually happens. So are all the others, seduction, screw, ream-all of 'em-just words. Then suddenly it's real. And you know you're going to get reamed, that a man's dong is going up your twat- but it still doesn't mean The Big Thing until that happens.

  "I could almost feel Dad's eyes slithering up my skirt, peering up at my nice little hairless slit, ready and waiting. And that made it more ready and the waiting got almost impatient. I wanted something to happen, not just eyes bugging at me.

  "Then it started to happen. Dad reached up a; shaky hand "and laid it on my leg, real light but firm. I could even feel it shaking and gradually growing steady as he rubbed the inside of my thigh, watching my face, I guess to see how I took it. I took it and hunched forward on the desk to make him go farther up my leg, to Where the Pot Was Boiling. And it was really boiling. I mean hot!

  "I leaned my hands on the desk and rested on them, thrusting "my boobs up. They were really out of the sweater by then-or one was. Dad leaned forward to kiss it just as his hand hit The Open Switch, and I went and had my private Cape Canaveral. I threw back my head and moaned. Dad slid his mouth upward and started kissing my throat, just under the ear, with one hand playing in my Garden of Eden and the other working on one of my boobs, where the nipple was standing up, hard and firm.

  "I reached with one arm and grabbed Dad around the neck, pulling myself toward him, so his hand on my twitchy twat was really working, one finger sliding up and down my slit and starting trains for Miami, Chicago, Denver and points West. I mean, I never knew anything like that could happen! I had meant to stir things up, sure, but I hadn't known I was using T.N.T, with a nuclear starter to stir.

  "I just closed my eyes and hung on to Dad, feeling-and that's the word-feeling. I couldn't speak. I couldn't have said 'No!' if I had wanted to-and who wanted to?

  "I could feel Dad slide his hand slowly along my leg, that soft, inner side of my thigh, moving up toward my cunt, making me feel as if there was a big balloon of hot air filling inside me, and then he touched my cunt lips, rubbed them softly, and the balloon went, up! But there was another right behind it, ready to go!

  "Then feelings began to get a little confused. They were coming too fast for me to sort them out. Dad was kissing one of my boobs, running his tongue around the nipple, and then kissing my throat, and sliding back down to-the other boob. I've got a shaky notion I helped him undo my sweater. I know it was open and I was bare to my belly button. I know I had to help with that silly, ornamental crib pin that holds my wraparound miniskirt. But the in-between steps are hazy-and blazy, just hot flashes of feeling, some bits of seeing.

  "I know I was lying flat on the desk, with my legs hanging over, and bare-assed naked, without knowing how I got that way. Nor caring. Though I do remember wondering vaguely what happened to Carol's panties. I know I didn't have 'em on any longer, because Dad was going down on my cunt, reaming with his tongue and sucking. And I was ramming my little twat right at him.

  "He'd sort of swapped places, his face at my cunt and his hands playing squeeze bulb with my boobs. His cheeks were a little scratchy against my thighs, because it was late afternoon and he needed a shave, but even the scratchiness was part of the excitement. It sort of told me: There's a man down there. Not that I needed the information, because Dad's tongue up my twat was saying that louder and firmer.

  "I was rocking my ass on the desk, grabbing off more feelings from his lips and mouth and trying my best to shove my twat right down his throat, only I couldn't get any real purchase with my hands on that desk top. Dad was runnin
g his hands over my boobs and diddling my nipples. Once in a while he'd trail his fingernails across my tummy, not really raking but getting the skin worked up, and down around my belly button and the creases between my legs and tummy.

  "Gradually Dad sat back in his desk chair, sliding my ass along the desk top and sucking and tongue-reaming all the time, still playing with my boobs and nipples and doing his little fingernail raking along my sides and tummy.

  "By then my ass was hanging just over the edge of the desk and my feet were resting on either side of Dad, in his chair, with his head up between my legs and his mouth sucking while his tongue twisted around my clitoris and his hands alternately played with my boobies and tugged me closer.

  "Then he raised his head and said huskily, 'Sit up, Alex. Sit up.' I know I tried, but my body felt like it weighed a ton even while it felt like there was nothing inside but heat. So he helped me sit up. Honest, it was even hard for me to hold my head up. It just seemed to want to wobble loosely. And then I looked down!

  "Dad wasn't wearing anything but his shirt, and that was unbuttoned. Somewhere along the line he'd shucked his pants and underpants. And the Real Mister Himself was standing up and taking bows. What a monster! That big, shiny blue-purple head all sparkly with dew-love dew-and his shaft standing up there, seeming as long as a broom handle, but bigger around.

  "I don't even remember thinking I couldn't take all of that in my little twat. I just started shaking. I could even see the ripples of shivers on my stomach, all the time Dad was easing me off the desk and sliding me into his lap, with that enormous love-knot and shaft aimed right at my cunt. And I didn't have strength enough in my legs to push away. I just let my ass slip on down, right on to Dad's prick, while he held me by my hips, guiding me on to it.