XPost: alt.sex.stories.incest, alt.stories.incest, alt.sex.incest   
   From: mccoyf@millcomm.com   
      
                           Sleeping Sex   
                          An Erotic Story   
      
        A few times in the past I've gotten my wife to agree to   
   me having sex with her while she was sleeping.  This is a   
   bit hard to do, but not impossible.  The first thing, of   
   course, is to get a hard-on while the woman is sleeping   
   *and* she has her back to you, snuggled up "spoon fashion"   
   so you actually *can* slip inside her while she's off in   
   dreamland.  Not nearly as easy as it sounds; and the few   
   times I've managed to get such permission from my wife to   
   "pork" her while she slept next to me, I've only managed to   
   complete the job about one time in five.  The other times   
   something always got in the way, from me falling asleep   
   before she did to not being able to get it up after an   
   already big night of sex, to not being able to get it in, or   
   other reasons.  Once she let a big fart in my face; and it   
   caused me to lose all interest in sex that night ... and I   
   *know* it was involuntary too.  Oh well.   
        While I've never really been a pedophile; little girls   
   not seeming all that sexy to me until they've developed   
   boobs, fur, and the shapes of women, it's hard to deny that   
   many of them push the envelope at least in how they dress.   
   Still, considering our present fix, maybe it actually would   
   have been better if I was such a person and actually started   
   having sex with our daughter back when she was ten and   
   puberty wasn't even close.  Maybe.   
        Still, even though I've known that Cindy was fast   
   approaching puberty and I'd soon be getting out that   
   baseball bat I'd been joking about for years, "To keep the   
   wolves from the door," and getting at our little girl, now   
   she really was starting to develop sexually, I'd never   
   really expected to be the first person having sex with her   
   myself and especially not while "sleeping" in the same bed   
   with me and Sandy, my wife.  Yeah, "Sandy" and "Cindy".  My   
   wife liked the combination.  So do I.   
        Me?  My name is Daniel ... Daniel Stevens; but don't   
   bother trying to look me up in the phone book.  Even in the   
   local directory there are five "Daniel Stevens" entries, and   
   three "D. Stevens"; and I'm not telling you what town, city,   
   county, or even state I live in.  So fuck off with trying to   
   find me.   
        I'm not really sure exactly how we ended up in bed   
   together, with Cindy snoozing away, cuddled up between me   
   and the wife; but like many such cases it involved something   
   while we were on vacation, a motel-room, and only one bed   
   for the three of us.  Still, I never once did more than   
   cuddle up to the kid the three nights on the road; and no,   
   never felt *then* like molesting my own daughter, no matter   
   how sexy I realized she was getting.   
        Heck, it wasn't even when Cindy started showing up in   
   our bed *after* we got back from DisneyWorld that I   
   personally started thinking about my own daughter as   
   somebody to have sex with.  In actual fact, I'm pretty sure   
   it was the sausage that did it.   
        Yes, sausage ... A hunk of Polish Ring Sausage, likely   
   about three feet long, if you want to know; and since you're   
   reading this, I ass-u-me that you do.   
        Actually, several months *before* the sausage and even   
   before our vacation, there were the hot-dogs.   
        Yeah, hot dogs.  Everybody has experimented with hot   
   dogs as sexual toys while growing up, haven't they?  Yes,   
   even me; though I had to toss mine after trying a couple up   
   the butt when I did it.   
        However, it was catching Cindy with a hot-dog up her   
   twat, just experimenting, that first directed my attention   
   to the fact our "little girl" was getting to be a *woman*.   
   Moaning in her room made me look; but when I saw our   
   daughter on the bed working a little red "skinless frank" in   
   and out of her honey-hole, I quickly backed out so she   
   wouldn't be embarrassed at "being caught" with her hand (or   
   at least a hot-dog) in the cookie-jar (so to speak).   
        It was only afterwards when I saw Cindy about to dump   
   the good meat down the disposal that I said a word.   
        "Uh ... Cindy," I said; almost causing her to jump out   
   of her skin as she started reaching for the grinding switch.   
   "Don't *waste* good meat like that."   
        "Uh ... Daddy," she objected, "We can't *eat* those ...   
   Uh ... not after I've had them in ... in ... in my ... uh   
   ..."  Cindy blushed a bit; but not as much as you might   
   expect; as we've had talks about sex, sexuality, and whether   
   allowing somebody else to touch you in your privates was   
   "good touch" or "bad touch" mainly depending on whether or   
   not you *wanted* to be touched, and to so-touch the other   
   person in return.  Even at eight years old and probably   
   younger, Cindy had known that there wasn't anything really   
   wrong with masturbation; even though it's *usually* a   
   private thing.  That, of course, being why she was   
   embarrassed now:  Being noticed while doing something   
   private.   
        "You haven't had them in your butt, have you?" I asked.   
   Well, if she had, then they *would* go down the disposer.   
        "Well ... No, but I've had them in my ... my, uh,   
   kitty; and we aren't supposed to `share food' even if one of   
   us has had it in our mouths, are we?"   
        "Uh ... Cindy," I responded, "It's pretty clean,   
   whether you've had them in your mouth or up your pussy.   
   It's only if you bit into one or *broke* one of them, that   
   I'd ask you to toss them ... or, of course, if you *had*   
   experimented by putting one of them up your rectum.   
   Otherwise, they're still clean, AND they're going to be   
   boiled anyway; so why waste good food?"  I didn't mention   
   the fact that knowing we'd be eating woman-flavored food   
   that night would be quite a turn-on for me; because yes, my   
   "little girl" *was* becoming a woman.   
        Well, after tossing *one* dog that was a little   
   dilapidated, the rest went back into the refrigerator; and   
   three nights later we had beans and franks.  My wife never   
   did figure out why Cindy kept blushing each time I pulled a   
   hot-dog out of the dish and made a production out of licking   
   and enjoying the taste.  Still, after being cooked, there   
   really wasn't any "woman taste" left.    Oh well.   
        After that first time, every week or so I'd see a   
   package of opened hot-dogs in the refrigerator; mostly all   
   there; but sometimes with a missing frank or two.  I think   
   Cindy made a *point* of leaving them where it was obvious.   
   However, after that first time she never again seemed to be   
   embarrassed at eating or watching us eat food that had been   
   up her tight little twat.   
        Still, it wasn't *that* that made me really notice how   
   our "little girl" was growing up.  After all, hot-dogs are   
   smaller than even most 12-year-old little boys, and I'm a   
   man ... or at least so my wife assures me.  Yes, it was the   
   sausage.   
        I'm not sure, but I *think* Cindy left her door open   
   deliberately that time; her moans once again attracting my   
   attention ... attention to the fact that our "little" girl   
   wasn't so little; as she had both hands wrapped around a   
   sausage almost as thick and fat as my prick ... and likely   
   four or five times as long; looking something like an   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)