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In Her Memory by Mark Dassad

All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Archive-name: In-Her-Mem

(C) 1992 Mark E. Dassad. May be reproduced and redistributed
un-edited and un-altered in electronic format for NON-PROFIT
ONLY with this notice intact. The author reserves the right
to sell paper copies at huge profit to the disconnected. Any
other use constitutes fraud, and you'll be hunted down like a
dawg and violated if you violate this. Okay you can fix typos,
but only if you send me corrections.

In Her Memory

Waking to the quiet sounds of a sleeping household, the refrigerator
humming to itself in the pre-dawn stillness he rises groggily to pee,
absently pondering this mis-feature in human design, the eight-hour
sleep cycle coupled with a seven-hour water tank.

It is nearly time to rise and start the day and his mind wanders back
to the empty spot where his wife had lain until she disappeared nine
or so months ago; half hoping her body will eventually turn up in a
ditch somewhere so that he can be _free_ of her, somehow certain she
simply ran off one afternoon, took the cat and fled her dreary
existence with him and his _job_ and his _mortgage_ and _car payments_
and receding hairline and all the other trappings of adulthood, of

And he wanders over the memories of the body that had lain next to him
all those years, the smooth firm flesh that had been his privileged
pleasure, the curve of her slender soft ass, how well their two bodies
fitted together after all the years of adjustment, of fine tuning to
each other's needs, recalling the soft warm feel of her interior as he
had nestled inside of her...

His cock hardens in memoriam, and it cannot help but remind him of the
soft younger version of _Her_ sleeping in the upstairs bedroom with
the smaller one that _She_ had always said looked a lot like him, if
he'd been a girl of course.

He curses the day she left them and he curses her memory as his feet
pad softly up the carpeted stairs into the room where the two girl
children lie sleeping in their white painted beds, the room
overflowing with ruffles and lace and... girl things, _Her_ legacy.

His dancing penis draws him toward the long-haired one as it seems
increasingly wont to do as _Her_ memory fades in deference to the
reality of the beautiful young thing, here, in the present, with the
soft pink lips and wide dark eyes and long brown hair and slender,
strong, firm legs, beautiful plump nipples swelling with the first
indications of childhood's end. As this creature's reality becomes so
very apparent to the pulsing flesh peering from his loosely wrapped
terry robe he sits down gently on the edge of her bed brushing the
long soft strands of hair from her face as she sleeps quietly on her
stomach breathing softly, her mouth a small delicate "oh" in the
pre-dawn quiet.

Gently, very gently, he shifts so he is stroking her hair, running his
hand down the back of her oversized Garfield nightie, slowly drawing
the sheets away from her body, revealing strong tanned legs splayed
casually in sleep one knee drawn towards her chest so that when he
draws her nightie up her beautiful plump pussy is just barely exposed.
Her round white buttocks, a perfect tan-line arcing high across her
hip bone, a perfect transition line of brown and white drawn across
her back at the very point where her buttocks begin to part, his
dancing penis wills his fore-finger to collect the dewy dribble of
pre-cum oozing from its eye and trace the border-line from the cleft
of her plump young pussy across her hip.

She rouses, startled, when his moist, large rough finger pushes at the
sensitive flesh of her sex, tracing outward along the crease where
buttock meets leg, rolling onto her side, his finger jerked away from
the sweet spot; the penis driving these actions starts nervously,
shrinks in fear to hide beneath the folds of his opened robe.

She smiles sleepily, glancing over at the child sleeping soundly in
the bed barely an arm's length away.


The penis, re-assured, convinces him to press his advantage and he
leans over her, pushing gently on her hip so that she is lying on her
back, his hand moves slowly, gently, pulling up the night-dress,
exposing her plump smooth sex to the cool morning air as his body
leans over her, shifting, placing his scratchy lips against her warm
forehead, leaning over her, resting on his elbow brushing the hair
from her face, drawing his lips lovingly down the bridge of her nose,
his rough thumb reaching between the triangle of her sex easily
finding the pleasure button, pushing insistently at it with his thumb
as the rest of his fingers push between her legs now parting
invitingly as the little kernel of pleasure at the top of her young
hairless gash hardens almost imperceptibly his mouth covers hers, his
tongue probes between her lips, gliding along the roof of her mouth
the soft pink sides of her cheeks so smooth and moist like the tender
new skin hidden, buried between her legs.

She moans appreciatively, humps back at the hand stroking her sex,
thrusting her tongue back into his mouth, neither are concerned with
the child stirring in the bed next to them, roused from a deep sleep
by the un-mistakable sounds of lust. They know only this pleasure, a
special stolen pleasure that they have shared more and more frequently
in the time since _She_ left them, in the time since he first began
noticing the oldest girl's nipples swelling beneath her t-shirts, in
the time since the _penis_ began contemplating the possibilities of
her maturing body as his hands roamed over her in their playful
tickling games, stiffening with an adult-sized lust as her ripening
body slithered across his in their innocent wrestling, the penis
rubbing itself stiffly, against his will, over her smooth firm young
body, yearning for the freedom to enjoy _adult_ games with the
beautiful creature _it_ had helped to create.

Moving slowly, slipping his robe off to let it slide to the ground in
the narrow space between his bed, one hand and then the other
pleasuring the beautiful girl writhing and moaning caught up in the
novelty of a physical pleasure until recently unknown, he has moved so
he is kneeling between her limber young legs, still rubbing at her
pubis his tongue intertwined with hers she gasps as he pushes her
night-dress up under her armpits, lifts herself off the bed to hastily
pull it off over her head as he continues to work adeptly at her
loins. She gasps again as two rough fingers push into the moist dark
hole between her legs, humps appreciatively, pushing herself against
the thumb working wetly against her tiny button, her nightshirt
landing discarded atop his robe she places her mouth against the tight
hard nipple protruding from his matte of greying chest-hair and it is
his turn to gasp, a low guttural moan of pure animal need.

His fingers press into her channel and the hard throbbing life-form
between his legs know that after months of longing and preparation, it
is _finally_ time.

The fingers are withdrawn and she moans, disappointed, until the penis
begins rubbing, not gently, but lustfully, insistently, tapping
urgently at the entrance to her young delights she reaches up to
stroke at his nipples as the penis glides wetly along the pink split
of her young cunny until it can stand it no more: it leaps into the
abyss, driving through the tight narrow opening, spreading the
delightful creature wide as it tears open this fresh package of
pleasure for the very first time; she shrieks at a sharp burning pain
somewhere inside her, between her legs, and a wetness between the
cheeks of her buttocks. She feels the penis driving into her opening
her up more intimately than she had envisioned it it feels as if he
will split her in two and she clutches him to her chest, rubbing her
tender gum-drop nipples against his hairy chest concentrating on the
contrast of her smooth pink skin against his masculine roughness as he
moves urgently, leaning on his elbows, working rhythmicly he towers
over her smelling of sweat and sex she feels the thing begin moving
deep inside her belly and the pain of her abandoned virginity slowly,
oh so slowly begins to resemble pleasure.

It fills her, stretches her, she feels his wiry bush tickle her own
hairless pleasure centers as he plunges into her, marvels at the feel
of his hairy body moving roughly against her nakedness, lurching
violently, driving into her, opening her up, stretching her young cunt
to near splitting each time the penis pushes up into her, _demanding_
she relinquish to him the pleasure her firm young body encompasses.
She rides the building wave of ecstasy, exulting in the way his
driving lust pushes her roughly about on the bed, marvelling at the
rasping sounds of cotton sheets twisting beneath their humping bodies,
opening her legs as wide as she can, inviting him to split her wider,
penetrate deeper as an urgent pressure seems to build in the pit of
her groin, begging for a release she has not yet imagined is possible.

He marvels at her passion, the penis swelling with pride as her pain
gives way to pleasure it senses that she is in the end enjoying the
ride and it quickens the pace; they are moaning and grunting,
thrashing back and forth, the headboard slamming rhythmicly against
the wall, neither notices or cares that the young child in the
adjacent bed has been watching intently as the young beauty and her
father rut frantically only scant feet away, neither is aware of any
existence extending further than the pit of their groin or the
pleasure center of their brain as their grinding genitals are making
sticky wet noisy frantic sex.

He feels a burst of intense pleasure at the back of his head, more
intense than any of the jolts he's ever gotten from a line of even the
purest coke... his testicles are snapped tight swollen to near
exploding and semen spews the length of his prick, splashing thick and
hot into the entrance to her unripened womb, leaking from her narrow
channel, squeezed out by his frantic humping, his sperm continues
spewing into her interior until at last he pulls out, exhausted,
dribbling the last bit of ejaculate.

He leans over his fresh-fucked girl licking and sucking at her
beautiful nipples, rubbing at her moist pussy lips she humps wildly as
one jolt of pleasure after another courses through her limber young
body, she cries out wildly, wailing, almost tearful as successive
jolts of unimagined ecstasy tear through her young loins her hips
thrust violently into the space between their bodies, as he watches,
awe-struck, her tight cunt spasming and twitching uncontrollably her
lust-driven cries finally weakening, pleasure subsiding, turning to
sweet sweaty exhaustion.

He rolls so they are lying, exhausted, side by side, squeezed into the
narrow space of a twin bed, stroking each other in the afterglow of
their animal passion. She leans up on an elbow to glance in the
direction of the little sister who is sleeping _intently_, rigidly,
her small body turned away from the two bodies sharing the bed next to
her, illuminated by the grey light of approaching dawn.

The newly created _woman_ giggles childishly at the thought of the
little one witnessing their violent _fucking_, and kisses her father
wetly and loudly full on the lips.

He smiles at her, so like the mother must have been at that age, still
lusty up until the moment she disappeared. He whispers that they will
likely have to discard the sheets, as there is much sperm, and blood,
proof of her virtue.

Gathering his robe he pads softly from his girls' room; passing the
boy's room on his way back downstairs he believes he hears the
unmistakable sounds of masculine self-pleasuring, and he smiles again
as he prepares to start the day.

The guilt will not happen till much later when the brain has forgotten
the penis' prerogative.

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