His stories mostly involve incest, (family members having sex) pedophilia, (young children having sex) pregnancy (yes, having babies) and quite often several other quirks as well. These stories (with a few notable exceptions) are usually completely consensual (That means that all parties involved want to do whatever they are doing.) and are basically love-stories. Even though most people might consider this 'abuse,' nobody (with the above noted exceptions) gets abused in his stories. If a little girl has sex, (gets fucked) it's because she wants to get fucked, and asks for it. This may be unrealistic; but these are stories, FANTASIES. They are not intended as examples of the real world, or suggestions of things to do.
Frank started out by publishing a complete novel, ('Her Father's Daughter') ostensibly written by a friend ('Tammy') who didn't want to be identified further. He has also published several stories that he claims are his own, besides those of the mysterious Tammy. Once he started publishing, several other people have asked him to publish some of their stories, in the same manner.
My little sister is sick. Some people would say I was even sicker, because I take advantage of her. No, I mean physically sick, not mentally. Though some people might say she was mentally sick too. You see, my little sister drinks pee. Yes, pee. Piss. Urine. You know what I mean.
You see, she doesn't drink it because she likes to, but because she has too. No, that's wrong too. I didn't mean to imply that she didn't like it. Chrissie likes to drink pee, as much as you or I like to drink pop. She got that way, because she HAS to drink it, or she gets sick. Well, maybe she doesn't actually HAVE to. OH shit! I started this all wrong. Perhaps I'd better start at the beginning.
When Chrissie was born, she looked and acted just like any other baby. It wasn't until she was about 2 years old, and Momma first switched her from breast-milk to solid foods, that we first found out that something was wrong.
It's not that Chrissie had a hard time adjusting to solid food; it's just that she always seemed to be so thirsty. Then, she started to lose weight. After about six months, my little sister looked starved and pale. She always seemed to be sweating, and she drank whatever liquids she found, almost constantly. The first real indication of what was to come, was when Momma found my little sister drinking out of the toilet-bowl, that Daddy had just finished peeing in. She was so thirsty that when she couldn't find anything to drink, (the cupboards and sink were too high) she copied the cat, which she had seen drinking there earlier. (We tried to stop that animal from drinking out of the toilet-bowl, but it never seemed to learn.) Nobody had ever told Chrissie that toilet-bowls weren't drinking-fountains, (She was JUST beginning to talk, at the time.)
Momma almost had kittens herself, when she saw her little girl face-down in the toilet. At first, she thought the little girl had drowned. Then, when she saw what was REALLY going on, Momma was almost as upset as if Chrissie HAD drowned. Hysterical doesn't begin to describe my mother that day. That was the last straw. Straw? Heck, that was the whole straw-stack, with a load of lumber on top. Momma called the doctor, and tried to set up an appointment right then.
Well, you know doctors. If the kid isn't dying, then she has to wait on them. It was over a week before Momma could get Chrissie scheduled to go in for testing. During that time, Momma watched Chrissie like a hawk; fearing that her little escapade might have made an already sickly little girl even sicker.
Surprisingly, (to Momma; all the rest of us figured that a little piss wouldn't hurt her) Chrissie didn't seem to be hurt at all. In fact, for two days she cut down on her liquid intake and a little color seemed to appear in my little sister's cheeks. Then she went back to looking the same.
About halfway through the week, Chrissie came toddling into the bathroom, just when I was about to start to take a piss myself. She had been using the toilet herself for almost a month now; and the whole family was trying to encourage her. So nobody had yet told her she shouldn't come in when other people were using it. Usually, whoever was in the bathroom would finish up as quickly as possible, and let the little girl go.
Chrissie never did piss too much. Not even when she was a baby. Her diaper very rarely got wet. Stinky, yes. Wet, not very often. We hadn't really noticed this the way we should have, until our noses were rubbed in it.
That day, I'm ashamed of. That was the first time I took advantage of my little sister's ignorance. It turned out to be lucky that I did; but it also set a pattern for later in both of our lives. I kept taking advantage of my little sister; and she kept letting me. Since the results were usually positive for her, she got to expect it; and I never felt as guilty about it as I should have. So I never stopped; and she kept on letting me; until we got trapped in our pleasant (Uh sorry, that's: present.) situation.
That morning I hadn't yet gone myself. So I moved out of the way for Chrissie; expecting her to sit down and relieve herself; then I could go after her. (OK, I'll admit it; I was something of a voyeur.) I wanted to watch my little sister pee, because it would give me a chance to get a close look at what the little girl had between her legs.
Chrissie wasn't old enough to know she shouldn't do "private" things like this in front of her big brother. At 10 years old, I was just beginning to get interested in what girls had between their legs, and had just discovered the fun of playing with what I had between mine. Still, what I did that day was, to say the least, naughty. To say the worst? No, I don't want to repeat what Momma said later to me. My ears still burn even now, almost 15 years later. Oh. I forgot to tell you what I did that day. I'll continue.
Well, I just moved out of the way; expecting my little sister to put the toilet-seat down, and sit on it. You can imagine my surprise, when the little girl kneeled down instead, and bent over to where her face was almost in the water. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what the little girl was going to do, after the big blowup 3 days before. I reached for my little sister and stopped her; shaking my head as I did so.
Chrissie looked at me with those big sad eyes of hers and said, "No?" That was one of the few words she understood at the time.
I tried to make it clear to her. "No," I said. "No drink potty." I THOUGHT she understood all three words.
"No?" repeated my little sister. I think she understood; but her big blue eyes got even bigger; and tears started to run down her cheeks. I was afraid I was going to have a bawling little girl on my hands, when a VERY nasty idea occurred to me. Even now, years later, I can't believe I did what I did.
"Oh heck," I said, "if you want to drink pissy-water, why don't you drink the real thing?"
I had been standing there with my pants half-down, cock in hand, ready to pee, when this all started. At the time I was joking; but I waved my little peter at my sister's face in a manner that even a 2-year-old could understand.
Chrissie looked at me; not sure. "Drink?" she asked. She DID understand the word. (Not surprising, considering how much she drank every day.) It was then, that I did it. It's too late now to apologize; and Chrissie wouldn't let me anyway. She's too happy with the results. What I did was very simple: I nodded my head.
Chrissie knew what to do. It hadn't been all that long since she'd been on the bottle; and she had seen me and Daddy pissing before; so she knew that liquid came out of a man's peter. Liquid was what Chrissie wanted: She swallowed my cock; then started sucking on it like a milking machine.
I was caught by surprise. I had really expected Chrissie to turn me down. Actually, I had expected her to be disgusted. I was slightly worried about what Momma might think, but figured that Chrissie wasn't old enough to explain what I had tried to do. (Yes I know. . . I was a little punk bastard.)
As I said, Chrissie caught me by surprise. The shock of feeling my little sister's warm mouth on my already leaking penis was too much. I had needed to pee fairly badly when I came into the bathroom; and Chrissie's interruption had just increased my bladder pressure. I let go. Yes, I peed right in my own two-year-old sister's sucking little mouth. I peed, and peed, and then peed some more. It seemed as if I just couldn't stop.
I really expected Chrissie to pull away in disgust; so that I would squirt all over the floor and make a big mess. To my surprise, Chrissie not only didn't pull away, she sucked even harder; gulping madly, as she strained to keep up with the flow. I couldn't believe it. My little sister actually seemed to LIKE the taste of my piss. I had tasted it myself once, but never actually DRANK it.
When I finished peeing, Chrissie kept right on sucking. As the last little dribbles came out, she worked to get more. I didn't have any; but the feeling of my little sister's mouth on my peter felt good; so I didn't tell her to stop. MY prick got unbelievably hard; but I was too young to have an orgasm; so after about 10 minutes it got to be too much, and I asked Chrissie to stop.
Chrissie seemed disappointed that she couldn't get any more out of me; but dropped my peter, and happily toddled back out into the living room. It was only then that I started to have the shakes, as I thought of the danger I had been in. Either one of our parents might have seen us. I hadn't even had the presence of mind to shut the bathroom door. Boy was I dumb! I broke out in a cold sweat, as I thought of how much trouble I had just missed. Still, two days later I couldn't resist doing it again.
After that first time, I watched my little sister closely. After all, I DID love the kid; and if swallowing my pee made her sick, then I vowed I would tell Mom even if I got in trouble. (I wouldn't DARE tell Dad. He'd probably kill me, for doing something like that to his "little princess.")
Well, my piss didn't make Chrissie sick. In fact, She seemed to be getting better. Her face tuned pink, instead of pasty-white. She cut down a LOT on how much she was drinking; and she seemed unusually bright and cheerful. So much so, that Momma was almost ready to cancel the doctor's appointment for her, when it happened. The third time, I got caught.
Yeah, I did it again. The second time Chrissie followed me into the bathroom I was still scared; and looked around carefully before pulling out my peter, and letting her suck on it. She seemed to expect it after that first time; and I didn't disappoint her. The only trouble was: The second time I wasn't caught by surprise, and the feeling of the little girl's mouth on my horny little peter was so stimulating that I got a hard-on that wouldn't LET me pee. It was almost 10 minutes, before I lost control (or gained it) and once again filled my little sister's tummy with pee.
Now that she knew what to expect, she seemed to like it even better than the first time. She kept sucking though, even after I stopped peeing, until I told her she should quit. Happily, the little girl left me there; wondering just what I had gotten myself into. A lot of trouble, it turned out.
The next day, I got caught. Chrissie followed me into the bathroom again; only THIS time Momma noticed. She came in (probably to tell Chrissie that she shouldn't bother her big brother in the bathroom) and got there just as my prick got into full-flow in my little sister's mouth. Momma's yelp of surprise caught me and Chrissie by surprise ourselves; and I jerked so that my prick came out of Chrissie's mouth and squirted piss all over her face, and down her front. I just stood there, frozen in fright; but Chrissie hurriedly grabbed my cock and redirected the remaining spurts of urine into her mouth, so they didn't go to waste. At least it was obvious that Chrissie wanted this, and I wasn't forcing her. If it HADN'T been so obvious, I shudder to think of what might have happened next. It was bad enough as it was. Such screaming, hollering and accusations, you never heard in your life.
I tried to explain that Chrissie had started the whole thing, but Momma wouldn't listen; saying that, "Her idea or not, you should know better."
Well, I guess I did. I just hadn't been able to resist. The only thing that saved my ass, was Momma's worry about Chrissie. Years later, the whole family chuckles about it; but at the time Momma was scared that drinking my piss would make my sickly little sister even sicker. Possibly even seriously so. So Momma grabbed me and Chrissie; left a message for Daddy; and hustled us both down to the doctor's office. Appointment or no appointment, Momma wanted Chrissie's stomach pumped; and she wanted ME to know just what was happening, and that I was to blame for anything that happened to Chrissie.
Doctors are not mothers; thank goodness. I also thank heaven that Dr. Curtis was a GOOD doctor, and not some quack with pre-conceived notions who was too busy to investigate. Chrissie did NOT get her stomach pumped. (Thank goodness again.)
Since Momma was obviously almost in hysteria by the time we got to the doctor's office, the nurse found us a room, and Dr. Curtis saw us in less than 15 minutes. Those were about the longest 15 minutes of my life. Once the doctor got Momma calmed down enough to explain what the trouble was, he took a quick look at Chrissie, and told Momma that he was NOT going to have her stomach pumped, as doing so would cause far more damage than swallowing a little urine. "People swallow urine every day," he assured her, "and except for a queasiness in the stomach, it usually does no harm."
Momma looked a little relieved at this, but still worried.
Me? I was so relieved, I felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice-water on me. Then I looked at Momma's stern face and realized I still wasn't off the hook.
Dr. Curtis Had a lot of appointments to attend to that afternoon; but told Momma that since she was already there, he would look at Chrissie when he got a chance, instead of us coming back the next day, when her appointment was. Also, I think he wanted to talk to me, not just my little sister. So, Momma and I waited for two hours. Me feeling like a condemned man waiting for his execution; but not knowing if they were going to shoot, hang, or electrocute him.
Since I didn't know what Daddy was going to do, that was pretty close to my situation anyway. Daddy loved both of us, and there has never been any doubt about that; but when it came to my little sister, well there's no describing it. No, Daddy didn't pamper her, or let her get away with anything that he wouldn't let me get away with (except for the fact that she WAS younger than I was). Daddy always did his best to be fair.
It's just that Daddy always had wanted a little girl, and Chrissie almost didn't make it. You could see the love in Daddy's eyes, as he always watched my little sister whenever she was in the room with him. Daddy always loved me, and was always proud of me (Well, not ALWAYS. This time, for example.) but love almost doesn't describe how he felt about Chrissie. I love her too, but somehow I guess she'll still always be "Daddy's girl."
Anyway, when Daddy got there Momma explained what was going on. By this time The doctor was examining Chrissie; the office had emptied out; so except for a nurse and secretary, the office was pretty much empty.
Daddy's reaction surprised me. Once he learned what had happened, he wasn't as worried about Chrissie any more, as he was about me. Yes, me.
Daddy looked at me with such disappointment, that I would do this to my own little sister, that I wanted to crawl in a hole and pull a rock over myself; like the bug that I felt I was. As I said, I do love my little sister; and Daddy made me feel as if I had betrayed her. Maybe I had.
Well, about 10 minutes after that, Dr. Curtis brought Chrissie back; and wanted to talk to me. Yes ME. So this time I went down the hall, and talked to the doctor.
I expected Dr. Curtis to give me some kind of lecture about not pissing in your little sister's mouth, and hygiene, or something like that; but he didn't. Instead, he kept asking me questions about Chrissie. Like:
"How long have you and your little sister been doing this?"
"When was the first day?"
"How many times have you done it since then?"
"Your mother says Chrissie has been pale, and drinks a lot. Has she always been this way?"
"The first time this happened, did you or your little sister start it?"
"Tell me exactly what happened."
"Before that, do you know if your sister had been drinking from the toilet before; or was that the first time?"
"Have you noticed any changes in your sister since this started?"
"Has Chrissie shown any interest in feces?"
(I had to ask him what he meant by that one.)
"Does Chrissie have any other unusual habits, that you know of?"
"How much do you think your little sister drinks each day?"
"Have you noticed if your sister smells different than other children?"
"Does your sister have any other unusual appetites, that you know of?"
This questioning went on and on. I felt like a witness at an accident being grilled by the police. No, not a suspect (yet), but a possible one.
After me, the doctor talked to both Momma and Daddy separately, then all of us together. I presume he asked my parents similar questions. I do remember one particular question that he asked us all, when Chrissie was there: "Is this normal for her? I mean, is this how Chrissie usually looks?"
We all stared at my little sister. She was quietly playing; making "Zoom zoom" noises, with a toy kept in the corner of the office, for young children just like her. We all stared at my little sister; at first worried, then wondering.
Momma first put it into words. "No," she said, "not really. Usually by this time Chrissie will be crying for something to drink, or otherwise fussing."
Momma was right. Usually my little sister couldn't go two hours with yelling for something. There was something else too.
"She doesn't look as pale as she usually does," I volunteered.
Daddy put the final touch on it. "She seems, well. . . Happy," he said.
Dr. Curtis nodded. "Then you all agree, that she doesn't seem to be hurt by this episode?"
Hurt? My little sister seemed more contented than I had seen her for months. Momma and Daddy seemed to think so too.
"I'm going to make an unusual request," said Dr. Curtis.
We all listened.
"You haven't punished her for this, have you?" he asked.
Momma and Daddy both shook their heads. Punish Chrissie? They thought she was the victim.
"Well, don't" said Dr. Curtis, "And don't punish Mike here either."
"Huh?" I'm not sure who said that, but it could have been any or all of us. I began to wonder if I might get off the hook after all.
"But what if he does it again?" My mother put the whole family's thoughts into words.
"If SHE wants to, then let her," said the doctor; almost shocking us all. He then looked at me sternly. "Just don't YOU go asking HER," he said. "Do you know what I mean?"
I did. "You mean, that if SHE tries to get me to. . . to. . ." I couldn't say it in front of my parents.
"Urinate in her mouth," prompted Dr. Curtis. Somehow it wasn't so obscene, when HE said it.
"Yeah, that," I blurted; then continued, "If SHE tries to, then you WANT me to do it? Really?" This was almost a plaintive cry.
"Yes I do," reaffirmed the doctor. "In fact," he looked at both me and my father before continuing, "I want you both to promise me that you WILL do this for her, if she wants it."
Daddy turned red. I guess he might have bought the idea that having ME piss in my little sister's mouth wouldn't hurt her, but what the doctor was suggesting. . . "If you think I'm going to. . . to. . . to. . . to my own daughter. . ."
I had never seen my father tongue-tied before. Usually Daddy was about the most articulate person I knew. He had to be. He was the public spokesman for his company, and a heck of a salesman to boot.
Dr. Curtis interrupted my father's blustering. "Look at her," he commanded.
We all looked at my little sister playing contentedly in the corner.
Daddy wilted. If ANYTHING would make his little girl get better, he would do it; if it was cutting off his own arm. "But what if I. . ." Daddy tried for one last stab at sanity.
"Accidentally ejaculate?" Dr. Curtis seemed to know what was bothering Daddy.
I didn't yet. After all, I was only 10 years old myself.
"Mr. Carlson," said the doctor sternly, "I HOPE you don't have any hang-ups like that with your wife." At my parent's head-shakes, he continued, "Then you know that won't hurt her, if you do. Just don't try to. . . Well, you know what I mean," he said, looking pointedly in my direction.
I didn't know, but it was obvious that my parents did. Daddy gave up. "I guess," he said, "if you say so."
"I do," said the doctor. "Now, I want you to take Chrissie down to see this specialist next Monday. That's the earliest I could get you in. I want him to confirm my suspicions before we start treating Chrissie. In the meantime, a little urine in her diet won't hurt Chrissie; and if I'm right, it might actually help."
"Treating Chrissie?" asked Daddy with hope. "You mean we won't have to keep on doing this? There's a treatment for it?"
"Maybe," said the doctor; not wanting to commit himself until the test-results were in. "In the meantime," he continued, "you'll do what I asked?"
Daddy looked at me; I looked at Daddy; we both looked at Mommy. "I guess," he said; and that was that. If Daddy said he would do something, then he would. I think Daddy hoped he wouldn't be tested.
So, that night when I was ready for bed and I started for the bathroom, when Chrissie followed me in I just pulled down my pants, and let my little sister "do her thing." It took me a while; as the feeling of her warm little mouth on my prick kept me so hard, that for a while I couldn't go. But after a while the pressure got too great, and I let go.
I was just finishing up, when I became aware of my parents watching the obscene scene going on in the bathroom between their 10-year-old little boy and his 2-and-a-half-year-old little sister. Like always, Chrissie didn't stop sucking when I finished peeing; she kept right on, until I told her it was OK, and she could stop. Chrissie gave me a big grin; licked her lips; and headed off to bed. Funny, I never noticed HER pee.
For the next three days, this developed into a pattern.
Even when I went to take a shit, Chrissie would kneel down in front of me and have me pee into her mouth, instead of the toilet. The more she got, the more she seemed to want. Sometimes I'd see one or the other of my parents peeking in on us; but they seemed to be spending a lot of "private-time" in the bedroom those days; so I wasn't too sure, as they were never there when I got out. In the meantime, it sure didn't seem to be hurting Chrissie to be doing such a normally obscene thing. In fact, she seemed to be healthier for it. Maybe the doctor was right after all. I guess that Daddy must have figured so, because he stopped looking mad at me when he saw me heading for the bathroom, with my little sister in tow.
His worried looks at Chrissie seemed to increase a little though. I guess he was worried about just WHAT was wrong with his daughter.
Honestly, I was a little worried myself. I mean, I liked my little sister. But if she kept on doing this when she got older, I foresaw a lot of trouble for the little girl. I guess Daddy could see even further in that direction than I could. Still, I guess he figured that Chrissie would be better off alive, healthy, and happy, with a reputation as a nasty little slut, than sickly, unhealthy, and hurting. I guess that's why he went along with what came next.
It was almost a week later; just the night before Chrissie's big appointment at the hospital, where she was going to see the specialist that it happened. (The doctor was some special urologist/dermatologist/geneticist thing. I can't remember just what it was. I remember that the man specialized in skin and burn victims, and kidney problems associated with them.)
Anyway, this was after we had all gone to bed. I got up to go to the bathroom. (Actually hoping that my little sister did NOT wake up and follow me in. Much as I liked the feel of my little sister's mouth on my prick, it usually took me a lot longer to pee, when she was there, as she gave me an erection that made it HARD to piss. [WHAT a pun!]) I was tired and sleepy, and wanted to get back to bed, not get sucked off.
I was about halfway through, when Chrissie came in. She looked SO disappointed when she saw me. Valiantly I TRIED to stop, but just couldn't. I wasted almost 3/4 of my bladder in the toilet, instead of my little sister.
Chrissie looked so disappointed; she was almost ready to cry. By this time, we had managed to convince her that she shouldn't drink out of the toilet-bowl, as that was DEFINITELY unsanitary. A man's pee is almost as clean and germ-free as his blood. His shit is another matter entirely.
Chrissie was standing there, staring longingly at the bowl where I had just "wasted" about a half-cup of pee, when Daddy came in with a piss hard-on. He hadn't been expecting to catch us in the bathroom, but doing so made his hard-on get even harder. Daddy had just slipped naked out of his and Momma's bedroom; never expecting his kids to be in there at that time of night.
When Chrissie saw Daddy come in, wiping his eyes before he realized he had company, her eyes lit up like Christmas. Chrissie looked so expectantly at Daddy, that he couldn't refuse. He DID look a little annoyed at me for not taking care of my little sister though. Still, once Chrissie made it plain what she wanted, Daddy kept HIS promise. (Daddy always did.) The only comment he made, was, "Oh shit," before offering his cock to Chrissie.
Chrissie looked delighted. My little peter was only about 3 or four inches long at the time, but Daddy's was well over 6 inches long, and over an inch thick. It looked enormous to both of us. I guess Chrissie figured that if Daddy's cock was bigger, she'd get a bigger drink from it. Well, I guess she did, but not right away.
Chrissie couldn't get her mouth all the way around Daddy's cock like she could mine. Actually, she could barely open her mouth enough to cover the head. Still, Chrissie did her best. It must have been pretty good. Daddy couldn't pee. Just like me, the feeling of his own daughter's warm little mouth on his engorged penis, made it too hard to allow him to piss.
Chrissie just kept sucking harder. She knew from her experience with me, that if she kept on sucking, eventually she would get what she wanted. I know that Daddy TRIED to piss, without cumming, but the stimulation was too much. "Oh God," groaned Daddy, "I can't cum in my own daughter's mouth!"
"You'd better," snapped Momma, who had wondered what was taking so long, and was beginning to feel the need to pee herself. "You promised," she added.
I wondered what they were talking about. I didn't REALLY learn, until a few years later, even though I watched the whole thing many times.
"Oh!" grunted Daddy, and I watched his hips jerk.
Chrissie put her hands around Daddy's prick in self-defense, to keep him from accidentally jamming it right down her throat. (Later, she got to like taking me and Daddy all the way down her throat, but that was YEARS later.)
Chrissie's eyes opened in surprise, when she got a mouthful of cum, instead of the much thinner liquid she had been expecting, but she didn't pull away. She just kept on sucking, as Momma and I watched my little sister drink every drop of her father's incestuous seed. Afterwards, she kept right on sucking, (just like she did with me) as Daddy's cock got smaller, until suddenly she was able to swallow over half of it.
"Oh god," said Daddy again, in a quieter tone this time. His hips twitched again, and then I saw my little sister's throat working, as Daddy poured what must have seemed like a deluge of pee right down my little sister's hardworking throat. I could actually hear the sound of the spray hitting the back of Chrissie's mouth. I learned later, (from Chrissie) that Daddy not only had more piss than me, (because he was bigger, I guess) but it was much stronger tasting as well. Chrissie loved it. Daddy not only had more piss to give her than I did, but it had more of the flavor she seemed to crave.
From then on, Chrissie chased after Daddy like a little puppy; hoping to be around when he had to urinate. Since Daddy had to work though, she still got most of her "supply" from me. Except I didn't cum in her mouth, like Daddy did. (At least, not until several years later.)
The next day, we went to see the specialist, and they looked Chrissie over; prodded her, poked her, took blood samples, stool sample, urine samples, and even skin-samples. That last, was the only one that caused Chrissie to cry. She had stoically endured all the rest; even the blood samples hadn't dampened her spirits all that much. Afterwards, they said we were done. Daddy was mad, and insisted on seeing the doctor. "Well tell me," he insisted, "what's wrong?"
"Won't know for another couple of weeks," mumbled the blue-garbed man around the sandwich he was eating. The doctor had agreed to talk to Daddy, but only if they talked while he ate lunch. He had three more scheduled appointments in 20 minutes. "Tests won't all be completed until then," he explained.
"But what about my daughter?!?!" Daddy almost exploded. "I mean we can't just keep on. . ." Daddy didn't want to say what was going on, in the lunchroom.
"Your daughter's doing just fine right now, isn't she?" asked the specialist.
"Well, yes but," Daddy spluttered.
"Then keep on doing it, until we tell you different," said the doctor, before heading out. "It doesn't seem to be hurting her; and as far as we can tell, it might actually be helping." Then he was gone.
Daddy was left gasping at his retreating back. "But, but, but," he spluttered.
"You sound like a motorboat," admonished Momma. I had come along as well; both because Momma figured they might want to talk to me again, and because they didn't really trust me alone at home yet. After all, I was only 10.
Momma sighed. "It's only for another week or so," she said, "it won't hurt her, or even YOU that much, to do this for just a week or so."
Momma looked at Daddy for a moment, as he started to object again. "And don't try to tell me you didn't like doing it," she said with steel in her voice, "because I know better."
Daddy wilted. From then on, Daddy never objected, though I still occasionally saw worry in his eyes for his little girl.
The next morning I was awaken by Chrissie pulling on my blankets, as she shook me awake. "Want!" she said firmly.
So, I sleepily swung my legs over to the floor, and my little sister sucked me off in the bedroom; kneeling on the floor in front of me, until she had every drop of pee, and my erection had subsided afterwards.
About 10 minutes later, I heard a squeak that sounded like my mother. So I headed down to my parents' bedroom to see what mischief Chrissie was up to now. Somehow, I just KNEW it was my little sister. I was right.
When I got there, it was quite a sight. Daddy was lying on the bed, covers half-off; and Chrissie was sprawled half-across him, with Daddy's prick in her mouth. Daddy had a morning erection, that was truly huge; but Chrissie didn't seem to mind, as her head bobbed up and down, and her tongue licked around the shaft. She hadn't done that to me; but I guess she was still learning.
Daddy had a "What can I do?" look on his face, as his little girl gave him what must have been a very good blow-job for such a little girl, and the rest of his family watched. Yes, Momma was watching too, and even giving Chrissie pointers in how to make it feel good to her father. Maybe that's where Chrissie learned to use her tongue.
After about 5 minutes of this, I saw a bubble of white appear at the corner of my little sister's mouth, before she hurriedly slipped her mouth farther down over Daddy's spewing cock, so she didn't waste any of it.
When Daddy's erection had subsided a little, he moved over to the side of the bed, where Chrissie duplicated the actions she had performed earlier with me. Except she now had a tummyful of her own father's sperm, and Daddy must have pissed about three times the amount that I did. Chrissie seemed to love it.
From then on, unless I was at school, or Daddy was at work, the only place we took a piss, was in my little sister. Chrissie wanted it, and Momma made us both promise to give it to her as long as she did. This led to quite some trouble later.
It actually took three weeks before the hospital called us with the results of the testing they did on Chrissie. By this time my little sister seemed to be completely over whatever sickness had been making her look so pale and lose weight. In fact, Chrissie had been improving by leaps and bounds. Even her vocabulary had picked up to the point she now had almost 100 words she used. She seemed smarter too. She was even going to the bathroom herself now. Actually peeing; where in the past she had rarely, if ever, used the bathroom for that purpose.
The only things that seemed different about her, were that she still seemed to always have slightly clammy skin, (It LOOKED normal enough now.) and she seemed to pick up a permanent odor of urine. At first, Momma thought she had started peeing in her panties, now that she was finally urinating normally; but that wasn't it. Momma would give Chrissie a bath, and by about 6 hours later she would once again smell faintly of uric acid and ammonia. It was almost as though the extra piss she was swallowing from me and Daddy was coming out her skin. It didn't make a lot of sense to us until after we talked to the doctor. But then I was reminded of D. Curtis' question about whether my little sister smelled funny. Previously, she hadn't.
Well, when we got to the hospital for our "consultation" we finally found out what was wrong. Chrissie had some type of disorder you never hear of. There's only a few hundred of them a year in the United States; and they are even LESS common worldwide. Only in a few families in our state, is the problem common. They figure that Momma got it through HER great-grandfather, and it just hadn't shown up in her parents' line until Chrissie.
Chrissie had about a one-in-4 chance of passing it to her children. Even then, there was only a slight chance that the child would develop the "syndrome" like Chrissie did. I don't remember the full name of the trouble that made my little sister sick (Chrissie does. She HAS to, every time she sees a doctor.) It's called hyper-derma-something-or-other. All it is, (Chrissie says, and she should know) is fancy words that mean her skin-glands are overactive, and they don't know why.
Yeah, skin-glands. Sweat-glands, and others. By the time Chrissie was 15, the whole family was experts on skin-glands, skin-disorders, kidneys, and thyroid conditions. They were all related. Most people don't know that the skin is almost as important an organ for cleansing the blood, as the kidney is. Only it doesn't have the delicate chemical balance, that the kidneys do. That's why when people sweat a lot, they can lose chemical balance in their bodies and get heat-prostration.
Chrissie's skin had an out-of-control setting. Her skin sweated WAY too much, and she lost a lot of body salts. Normally, uric acid is built up in the body when the body burns protein. If the body gets too much of it, then it can be poisonous. The kidneys do most of the job in getting rid of the excess, but the skin also performs a part. (That's one reason BO on a hot day smells almost like pee sometimes.) When the uric-acid content gets high, the kidneys remove the extra. Notice I said extra. Uric acid IS actually needed by the body. It's just that there is normally far more of it than the body needs, so the kidneys remove it, along with extra water, and then we have to go to the bathroom and pee.
Not Chrissie, however. As I said, HER skin was overactive, causing her to sweat ALL the time, even when she wasn't hot. This made her thirsty; she would drink more; and the skin glands would remove even more uric-acid from her body. It was like a runaway reaction.
It seems that the less uric acid she had in her body, the faster her skin worked at getting rid of it, until the concentration in her blood was so low it caused other troubles.
As I said, uric acid is needed in the body. Not much, but some. Chrissie's blood level had almost none. That is, until she started drinking out of the toilet, after watching the cat do it. She had just been thirsty at first, but the piss left there by one of us (who forgot to flush) seemed to taste good to Chrissie, and made her feel better. Who knows how many times she did this, before I caught her? Anyway, one of the main symptoms of Chrissie's "disease" is a craving to drink urine. There are other people who actually eat shit; but that's another disorder. Luckily, not Chrissie's. Also luckily, Dr. Curtis had just read about the disorder a month or two before Momma brought Chrissie in.
It turned out that the treatment was fairly simple. They gave us a prescription for about three different types of pills (uric-acid, folic acid, various salts, including cholesterol, urea, and table-salt). Later in life, Chrissie said she thought they just distilled cow-urine, and called it "medicine". Other than that, the doctors told us that there wasn't much that they could do, as Chrissie's trouble was one of those "orphan" diseases that don't get much attention or funding, since so few people are affected. Dad was fairly happy anyway. At least we finally knew what was wrong with my little sister; and with the pills, he could stop acting like some monster of a child-molester by having his own little two (almost three then) year old daughter suck him off every morning. Daddy figured it was better to do THAT, than have Chrissie sick; but he still felt like some unspeakable pervert doing it.
Me? While I liked getting sucked off by my little sister, it was getting to be a pain sometimes too. Gee, a guy likes SOME privacy. Still, I was going to miss Chrissie coming into my room each morning to drain my bladder.
Well, we all didn't figure on Chrissie. She wouldn't take the pills. Well, she tried; but spit them up. Have you EVER tried to give a 3-year-old child pills she needs to take? Ones that she doesn't want? You never heard such screaming and tantrums in your life.
My parents tried. For almost two months they tried. When Chrissie's birthday party got completely ruined because Chrissie wouldn't take her pills, and Daddy had to punish her for throwing a tantrum, they finally gave up. Two days later, Chrissie was in my bedroom as usual, when Momma caught us.
She didn't say a word; but from then on, Chrissie's prescription sat unused in the hall medicine-chest. Chrissie liked the taste of pee. She did NOT like the pills. Once more, Chrissie got her own way. (My little sister almost ALWAYS gets her own way. On the other-hand, so do I.)
It was barely a week after that, when I passed by our parent's bedroom, and saw my little sister drinking urine direct from the source. Nobody said anything, and it was just one of the things we did. For almost two years, nothing much else happened.
One day, when I was about 12 years old, Chrissie came into my room with that "thirsty" look in her eyes. At the moment, I didn't feel like interrupting what I had been doing, so as a joke I asked Chrissie what she would do for me, if I would let her drink my pee. I wasn't really serious, as I didn't want my sister having those bouts of deprivation like she got after only a week's visit at our grandparents' house. By then she understood how we had to keep everything a secret, or Daddy would get in a LOT of trouble.
"How about if I let you lick ME?" she replied.
Now this was interesting. I decided to try it. After getting her promise NOT to pee in MY mouth, I licked my little sister's 5-year-old slit. It was smooth, and actually tasted good. She liked it. I liked it. So we eventually added it to the daily routine.
When I was 14, I came for the first time in Chrissie's mouth. We had been expecting it, but it still caught us both by surprise. By that time, Chrissie was 7 years old, and so cute you wouldn't believe it. Having orgasms, opened up a whole new world to me. Now, I was almost as eager as Chrissie to get her to suck on me. Sometimes she would do it for me even when I didn't have to pee. I wanted more though.
"Can I put it up against your hole?" I would ask? Chrissie answered, "NO," and that was it for a while. Until the day came along when she was "thirsty" and I was just bored. This time, I refused, unless she let me put it up against her hole, and rubbed it.
Chrissie wasn't too thrilled by the idea, but she went along with it. "As long as you don't try to squirt your white-stuff up inside me," she insisted. Well, that's what I really wanted, but I promised anyway.
A year later, I talked her into letting me squirt inside her. Two years after that, (I was 17 and she was 10) she let me slip the head of my prick inside her, but not break her hymen.
I remember one morning coming into the bathroom, where Chrissie was sitting on the toilet, sucking Daddy off. She smiled at me, around Daddy's big cock, and spread her legs so that I could see right up her tight little slit.
She began sucking even harder on Daddy, trying to get him to cum in her mouth. At the same time, the little girl spread her legs in an open invitation to me.
Daddy watched as I moved up alongside him and slipped the head of my cock right up into the familiar sucking heat of my little sister's vagina. I'm fairly sure Daddy knew we had been "fooling around" fairly seriously before that day, but he had never actually seen me put my cock inside my sister before.
As I felt the familiar tightness of my little sister's hole snap over the head of my prick, the stimulation of watching his two children fucking must have been too much for Daddy. Chrissie says that Daddy must have squirted almost a gallon of sperm in her hotly sucking little mouth, before I let loose about a quart of it in her tight little cunny.
Chrissie was still a virgin at this time, but it was less than a year before I convinced her to let me do that too. I stood there, with Chrissie's tight little cunny keeping my prick all nice and warm; while Daddy pissed about two gallons of piss down my little sister's throat. Then he pulled out, and watched while I added about another gallon. By this time Daddy was hard again from just watching; so Chrissie sucked him off again. Only this time he didn't pee. Afterwards, she sucked me off too. We never repeated that together; but it's still one of my fondest memories.
By the time our parents got killed in the big accident, I had managed to work Chrissie up to letting me fuck her all the way. Yes, squirt my sperm right up inside her cunt, with her having started periods about 6 months before, and no birth-control. Well, not completely. She still insisted on my not fucking her for about three days in the middle of her period. Chrissie wasn't ready to have a baby yet. Especially, not by her own brother.
It was about a year after our parents died, when I decided it was time I moved out. By this time I was 25 years old, and Chrissie was almost 18. Plenty old enough to take care of herself. She didn't even need me to piss in her mouth, as she could still get the prescription from the doctor. Actually, I was leaving because I was frustrated.
Chrissie was in tears. "What am I going to do?" she asked.
I pointed out that she didn't need to "do" anything. I was leaving the house to her, and with the insurance settlement she could live there for the rest of her life, without ever having to work.
"But why?" she asked. "I thought you liked it here!" With this, my little sister started sobbing fit to bust.
This time, it was MY turn to ask her "Why?"
She finally told me how she was afraid of spending her life alone. "I mean, who would have a girl who stinks like a cow-barn, and has a reputation as the girl who drinks urine and likes it?" My little sister had once made the mistake of "doing her thing" on one too many boyfriends. After that, the only boys who took her out were the ones who wanted her to suck them off; and they all seemed to want her to fuck them as well. This back when Chrissie was still a virgin. (Well, almost.)
When I explained that there were plenty of men like me, who would be only too happy to have a girl like her, she complained that SHE sure never met any. Then, she repeated her question, that I hadn't answered: "Why was I leaving?"
I explained to my little sister, that I had dreams of a home and family of my own. I wanted a son to be proud of. I wanted little girls to adore. I wanted to meet some woman who would be willing to let me plant a part of myself in her, so that we could both love the result of joining our bodies together. As long as I stayed with her, my chances of finding a wife were almost non-existent. Especially if she ever found out what Chrissie and I had been doing all these years. (And were STILL doing, for that matter.)
With this, I pointedly reminded my little sister of how she never let me squirt my sperm in her when she might get pregnant. Then I resumed my packing.
Chrissie gulped down her tears, and asked, "What if I LET you do that with me?" At my raised eyebrow, she continued, "I mean what if I let you fuck me, cum in me when I'm fertile, and knock me up? I never let you do it before, because I was always afraid of when you would leave me: Like you are now. If I became your 'wife', and had your kids, would you promise me you'd never leave me? I need you Mike. I love you too much to let you go."
If she hadn't thrown that last line in, I might still have left. However, it was the one sentence I most needed to hear. The one thing I really inherited from Daddy, was the absolute commitment to keeping a promise. I figured that I had kept my promise to my parents about taking care of Chrissie. She was now an adult, and I figured that I had done everything I was obligated to. On the other hand, If I made THIS promise, I could NEVER leave her. Not that I would want to.
"Chrissie," I said, "if you have my baby, you won't be able to CHASE me away!"
"Promise?" she asked.
"Promise," I said firmly.
When my little sister came into my arms THIS time, it was if the whole world had changed. What a difference. I finally found out what I knew I had been missing, and had been willing to chance losing Chrissie to get. (OK, I'll admit it: It was all a setup, to pressure Chrissie into letting me knock her up. Only Chrissie had her own agenda.)
Up to now, I had been having sex with my little sister on almost a daily basis, and I thought I knew what it was to "make love." That night, Chrissie taught me the difference. Sex is nothing. Sex is boring. Making love to the woman you love, and who loves you, is the reason for existing. Now I finally found out why Daddy had always looked at Momma in that special way.
Many times in the past, (FAR too many to remember) Chrissie had sucked me off. It had always been pleasant; and she had never tried to hurry me, like a few of the girls I met in high-school. She had never even really turned me down. That night, my little sister made love to my prick. She didn't suck it so that I could get off, and piss down her throat. She didn't suck it out of gratitude, or even just to make me feel good. She did it because she loved me, and knew this was one of the things I liked. For 10 minutes that seemed like 10 wonderful hours, my beautiful sister sucked my cock, doing everything she could to make it fun. That's right, fun. Not just "feel good" but a fun thing that two people do together.
When I finally came, filling her mouth with my seed, she savored the taste, and even shared it with me. No hurry to get me to pee, now that I was flaccid. My little sister was making love to my prick, instead of just sucking me off, like she had in the past, as a "thank you" for letting her drink my pee. (Funny isn't it? Chrissie being grateful for me doing something that would make most girls sick at the very thought of doing.)
After that (about an hour after that) we made love. Yes, made love, not just fucked. I hadn't realized before that was all we had ever done, was fuck. Before this, Chrissie and I had never made love.
Well, fucking your little sister is fun. Making a baby in your own sister, with her permission yet, is ecstasy. Even that pales though, compared to the pleasure of making love to your little sister, and she not only is allowing you to fuck her and get her pregnant, she actually WANTS to feel you making a baby in her tight little tummy. To feel your own sister, the girl you've loved since she was in diapers, squeezing and milking on your prick with her tight little cunny, while she jerks and shakes in orgasm underneath you, is a pleasure unmatched.
Up to then, I hadn't even realized that Chrissie hadn't been having orgasms. She had always seemed to like fucking, so I thought she was. Only I guess the fear of letting loose had always kept her from it. Even when Daddy had been alive. Now that she knew I was not only sticking around, but was planning on being her life-companion, Chrissie had no more reasons to hold back.
What a difference. Always before, Chrissie had just worked with me; helping me to get off because she liked me and wanted me to feel good. . . Just like I made her feel good, and took care of her. I hadn't known that the reason my little sister let me fuck her, instead of fighting me to make me stop, was because she appreciated the way I was always willing to give her what SHE needed (a dick pouring pee down her throat) whenever she needed it. Besides, she loved me and hated to see me suffer after getting aroused by pissing in my own sister. Yes, she loved me; just like I loved her.
Only she had never planned on marrying me. (Of course, neither had I.)
Now that we were going to be together, and she knew she wouldn't lose me, Chrissie felt free to "let go" and finally enjoy herself like I had been doing all these years. I think her first orgasm with a man pumping thick sticky baby-making cum in her tight little slit caught Chrissie as much by surprise as it did me.
I was just about to squirt my little sister's tight little hole full of sperm, when she suddenly grabbed me in a bear-hug, and began wailing and yelling incoherently. The slick wet feel of my little sister's vagina sliding on and off my prick changed to a clamping, squeezing vise, that threatened to cut it off.
Not that I minded. Feeling my sibling's already tight little hole squeezing on my prick, like a farmer trying to get the last precious drop of milk from a cow's teat, was too much. I began filling Chrissie's hot little hole with squirt after squirt of incestuous cum, with no worries this time about her either getting pregnant, or not getting pregnant. If she did, then we'd both enjoy having a child to share. If not, then we could always try later. We had the rest of our lives to do it in. No more wanting to "sneak" a baby in my little sister for me; and no more being worried if I got her pregnant for her. From now on, there would be no more cross-purposes.
When I finally came down from the incredible high of breeding my own sister, I found Chrissie panting and gasping from her orgasm, just like I was. Always before, Chrissie had been so calm and collected when we "made love".
Only now I knew that we never had before. Chrissie had just been "being nice" to me, by letting me "jack off" inside her. THIS was making love. Everything before had just been Chrissie "returning the favor" of me being nice to her, by her being nice to me. WHAT a difference!
"Oooh! That was good," sighed Chrissie, in satisfaction. "We've GOT to do that again sometime." We both giggled at that; even though it was all either of us could do to do more than pant in exhaustion. I felt as if I had left enough baby-juice in my little sister's belly to impregnate half the county. It looked like it would be a week before I would be able to get it up again. (Only a week turned out to be just two hours.)
You might think that we were all set. Well, so did we. At least, until two days later when I came home and found my sister looking like death warmed over.
"Look at this!" she exclaimed; shoving a tabloid newspaper in my face.
So I did. There was an article in the paper about a brother and sister in Oklahoma or one of those western states, who had been living together for 15 years; just like Chrissie and I planned to do. They had 8 lovely children, and were doing just fine, until someone figured out that they were brother and sister, after somebody found out they weren't married.
Chrissie told me that she wasn't going to let that happen to us. No more sex for me. No more fun for either of us, unless I figured out some way that we could get married. And it had to look legal too. Damn!
Well, I did it. Only it wasn't me that really figured out a solution to our problem. I had been working on several ideas; the best of which involved searching graveyards for the right person. If we found someone born about the same age as she was, and who died not long afterwards, I was figuring on pulling a shenanigan, and getting a copy of that person's birth-certificate, and then having Chrissie BE that person, from then on. The social-security number we'd have to either fake, or try getting a new one for her. Other possibilities involved Chrissie "getting married" to someone else, so her name was changed.
Only (as I said) it wasn't me, who came up with a solution, or even Chrissie. . . It was her doctor. Yes, the same one who had Daddy keep on peeing in his little girl's mouth, what seemed like so many years before. Dr. Curtis was almost getting ready to retire, but Chrissie still didn't see anyone else. So, since she was still planning on having children, she went to see the doctor, and ask him about her chances in having normal children. Somehow, she let it slip that she wondered what would happen if two siblings had children, and he figured out what the two of us were up to.
Dr. Curtis is quite a guy. He didn't see anything wrong with the two of us getting married and having children. Especially considering my sister's limited selection of people she could even talk to about her "problem", let alone marry.
He told us that the horror stories about relatives having sex and babies were mostly old wives' tales. The actual risk of two healthy young siblings having children was much lower than for people over 35. So he came up with a solution FOR us. He adopted Chrissie.
Since Chrissie wasn't 18 yet, she and I were willing, and both our parents were dead, it was easier than you might think. Chrissie then changed her name (under court approval) to her new "parent's" name, and we were home free.
Chrissie could now claim (legally) to be Chrissie Curtis, with two parents completely different from mine. Since adoption records are sealed, nobody could tell any different. Six months later, Chrissie's new dad gave away a blushing bride that was three months pregnant. Chrissie was radiant!
(Oh, by-the-way: Curtis is NOT Chrissie's real last name. Neither is Chrissie her first name, and I'm not giving away either of MY real names in this story, either.)
After the wedding (Only immediate family on both sides attended. . . We didn't want anybody except family, who knew us as brother and sister to know.) we moved out of state. (No, NOT to Oklahoma!) I've got a nice job fixing computer problems out here; and nobody has any suspicion that we aren't like any other normal couple. Chrissie has found a body-powder that covers up most of her odor, for almost 4 hours at time, so nobody has even noticed her "problem". Certainly, nobody has any suspicion that we were ever related before we got married.
Dr. Curtis got us a referral to a local doctor, who is familiar with Chrissie's syndrome, but has no idea that we are anything other than any other husband and wife, except for that. Dr. Jaevers admires me for the way I don't mind "helping" my wife get over her problem; though sometimes I think he envies me a bit too.
It was almost a year to the day after I almost moved out, that Chrissie had our first baby. Johnny (Oh, OK. . . John.) is the handsomest boy you ever did see. . . Unless you saw his little brother, that is.
After John, came Ginny, and then Mike, and finally Sherry, with not quite two years between each of them, as Chrissie breast-fed each of them for at least a year before we tried again. (There was SOME slight evidence, that breast feeding might reduce the chances of children having the hyper-derma-whatever syndrome that Chrissie had. On the other hand, most evidence pointed to the theory that it was probably genetic in nature.)
That was why we watched VERY closely to see that each of our kids were normal. Such normal, healthy, squalling brats, you never saw. And we love every one of them.
After Sherry, we stopped. Four kids are enough for any normal couple; and besides, we figured we had been pushing our luck to have that many. Thankfully, none of the kids seemed to be in the least bit unusual. . . Which is surprising when you consider the odds that someone with a problem like Chrissie has, keeping her electrolytes balanced, all through her pregnancy.
Of course, I was always willing to give my little sister the "treatment" she needed every day. Though now, Chrissie keeps a baby-bottle or two of "apple-juice" that's been sterilized in the refrigerator, "just in case". (Thanks again Dr. Curtis, for the suggestion. Someday, I'll find a way to thank you.)
Chrissie and I still like to fuck, though making love isn't quite the same as when you know there's a chance you're making a baby. Still, we do enjoy it very much. Chrissie usually wakes me up in the morning, and drinks my piss-hard, before turning it into the real thing. (Chrissie says I taste better in the morning, after holding it in all night long. . . Whatever. I give her all I've got, anyway.)
You probably already have figured out what I'm going to say next. . . Well, I hate to say it, but you're right. Everything went fine, up to last night. About a week ago Sherry had her third birthday; and Chrissie and I were just congratulating each other on being lucky; when this morning I walked into the bathroom and found Sherry sitting on the toilet with her brother's prick in her mouth, while he peed down her throat. Johnny was standing there watching his little brother; waiting for his "turn". It seems the kids had been doing this for over 6 months, and never thought anything of it, since they all knew that their mother and I did this all the time!
I watched my eldest son replace his little brother; pouring what seemed like gallons of hot pee down his little sister's throat, before heading back to bed. I got so hot watching, I had to go pee in MY little sister, before giving her a fuck she'll never forget.
That night, Chrissie had me pee in Sherry, while she "took care of" our two sons. At first I was hesitant, but Chrissie reminded me about how Daddy's pee seemed to do so much more for her when she was younger, than mine had. Since Chrissie knew more about her condition than I did, I agreed. After all, it hadn't hurt either her or my father when they did it.
Oh God! The feel of my little girl's hot little mouth on my prick is something I'll never forget! Chrissie taught Sherry how to suck me off, so she could get the "medication" she needed, while the rest of the family looked on. Sherry swallowed my sperm, and then the half-gallon or so of piss I'd worked up; not only without objecting, but she thanked me afterwards!
I'd better be careful though. I don't want my little sister missing HER "medication" just because my daughter likes it too. Sherry's going to have to get most of her "treatment" from her brothers. Thank goodness she has two of them.
Well, that SHOULD have been it. Only this morning I woke up to the feel of teeth on my prick! It seems that while Ginny doesn't need (or want) to drink piss like her little sister does, she feels that she should be able to suck Daddy off anyway. Oh shit. How can I explain that it's OK for her Sherry to do it, because she has to; but not for her, because she wants to?
Ginny KNOWS it feels good to me; and figures it isn't fair for Sherry to do something for me that she can't. Especially, since she loves me too. How do you explain to a 7-year-old, that sucking your father off is NOT something that little girls are supposed to want to do. Especially, when we're letting her little sister who's four years younger do it.
I KNEW we had pushed our luck a little too far. The worst part is, it feels so GOOD to cum in either of my daughters' hot little mouths; whether I pee in her, or not. And Ginny seems to LIKE the taste of cum, if you can believe it. Sherry doesn't mind it; but prefers the taste of me peeing down her throat.
Still, if I let this go on, who knows what might happen? Anyone out there have any advice?
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