From: bobandcarole@aol.com   
      
   Story: Seven   
      
   An Erotic Story   
      
   By bobandcarole   
      
         "Seven," she told me.   
         "Huh?"  I was resting; trying to get my breath after   
   the most incredible sex I'd ever had, with likely one of the   
   most beautiful women I'd ever meat.  (Pun intended.)  Even   
   the most experienced and high-priced hookers would fail the   
   test.  I was wondering just when this woman, who couldn't be   
   more than just *barely* "legal" at eighteen, if that, had   
   started.   
         "I said, `Seven,'" she replied.  "The answer is always   
   seven."   
         Uh ... Just what I needed ... a kook.  Just about the   
   time I meat a woman that looks worthy of chasing around the   
   world to marry, she turns out to have some weird hangup over   
   numbers.  Damn.   
         "I was seven years old when I first had sex," she   
   explained.   
         Oh.  Oh God ... Seven.  THAT is what she meant.  I   
   tried imagining having sex when I was only seven myself, and   
   couldn't do it.  I was nine, almost ten, before I started   
   playing with myself, and almost two years older when I first   
   ejaculated.  Seven.   
         "Uhuh," the woman answered my inquisitive look.  "It   
   was on the night of my seventh birthday that Daddy first   
   came down to my room, climbed under the covers with me,   
   slipped his fat prick up in my crack, slid in and out, and   
   then pumped thick white gobs of baby-goo in my hole.  Seven.   
   The answer is always seven."   
         Oh shit.  "You mean your father raped you when you were   
   only seven years old?" I asked.   
         "Raped?  Who said anything about rape?  I said I had   
   SEX when I was seven.  It took seven years after I was born   
   before Mom figured I was ready for it.  I took to sex like a   
   duck takes to water.  For a while I was annoyed that Mom   
   actually made me wait seven whole years to feel this   
   wonderful thing."   
         Oh.  I thought a bit more; then opened my mouth to ask   
   how much sex she had at when she first started at such a   
   young age.  After all, you don't expect a kid that young to   
   be having sex several times a day like a teenager!   
         "Seven," she replied before I asked.  "I told you, the   
   answer is always seven."   
         This was getting annoying.  The woman didn't even know   
   what I was going to ask, and replies with the same shit.   
         "At least seven times a week.  Mom saw to it that Daddy   
   slipped into my bed at least once a night after that first   
   time; and on the times he didn't, she made him make it up to   
   me the following week.  Seven."   
          "Seven times ... That's the number of times Daddy   
   fucked me in one day," she explained.   
         Oh shit.  I wondered how old she had been when she   
   first got pregnant; as it didn't sound like her horny goat   
   of a father was inclined to use birth-control ... and her   
   mother didn't sound like the type to make him.   
         "Seven," she said again, to my questioning look.   
         I started a slow burn again.   
         "It took seven years from the first time we had sex   
   until Daddy knocked me up, a little past my fourteenth   
   birthday."   
         Oh Geesh.  How had the woman even guessed the question   
   I was going to ask?   
         "Seven," she said.  "The answer is *always* seven.   
   You're the seventh guy to ask me.  When you look at me that   
   way, the answer is always obvious; and it's always seven.   
   For example, my sisters and I had seven kids by Daddy before   
   we left, and the oldest was just seven, and Daddy was   
   climbing into HER bed for the first time, when we took off   
   for college.  Seven girls in one tiny apartment; two of them   
   my sisters.  No, I didn't have seven kids *personally* by my   
   father, but they came within less than seven years."   
         "So you're ...?"   
         "Twenty-One ... or three times seven," she replied with   
   a grin.   
         God, she didn't really look a day over fourteen.  ("Two   
   times seven," whispered a quiet voice in my mind.  "Shut   
   UP," I told myself.)   
         I wondered if I was crazy enough to marry this woman,   
   how long it would take to get her to the alter, and if I   
   did, how old *our* kids would have to be before she had me   
   porking the girls like she and her sisters were?   
         "Seven years," she answered my unspoken question.  "I   
   *told* you, the answer is always seven.  And yes, my two   
   sisters were named, `Five' and `Six'; as Mom numbered her   
   pregnancies from her own father, before she met Daddy."   
         Oh God ... That meant her very NAME was ....   
                                 7.   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)