Message-ID: <16635eli$9810162128@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Switchable Yento of Seattle" Subject: Daddy, will you read me a real bedtime story about when I meet my beloved... Newsgroups: uw.alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.hetero,alt.sex.stories.incest,alt.sex.stories.moderated Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Auth-User: 003154033/8781af70e8d462a9 X-Post-Time: 15 Oct 1998 03:07:43 GMT Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <703otv$1s94$1@newssvr04-int.news.prodigy.com> "Daddy, will you read me a bedtime story?" Copyright 1997 (c) by Switchable Yento of Seattle switchable-yento@affection.com All rights reserved. Slumped in my easychair, trying to concentrate on reading the New York Times, I knew the end was near when Isabella slowly pulled herself out of her Quickie (TM) wheelchair, spread her "eight" year old legs, and slowly sat on my left thigh facing me before asking, "Daddy, will you read me a bedtime story?" "Sure," I said, looking down at her bald head, remembering her long gone red hair and energy. "What story would you like to hear? Mulan? Cinderella? Beauty and the Beast? Esther and Mordecai?" "None of them," she said, shaking her Deltan head defiantly but throwing her arms around me. "This time, I want the story to be about me. About when I fall in love and meet my beloved. That will happen, won't it?" she asks hesitantly. I look into her pale almond eyes and realize she knows. "Yes, Isabella, it happens to all of us. We all meet our beloved at some time in our life." I find myself reluctantly saying, "Even you." "Promise?" Eyes wide as saucers of spilled coffee. "Yes, I promise to make sure it happens, one way or another." "Good," she sighs, letting the gravity press her little bottom against my thunder thigh, feeling my arms caress her like ivy surrounding a tree, resting her head in the dark forest of fur on my chest. I hear her breath deeply in contentment. "Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a man and a woman..." I paused. "Do you want it to be two women, Isabella?" "No, let's be traditional this time." she whispers, digging her small hands into my chest, pressing her growing nips against me. Bringing back memories when the slapping sounds had awakened me and discovering her and a tied up nude female playmate pretending they were doctor and a naughty patient. "OK. Who had never met. And the women had been raised by her father, a carpenter after her mother had died when she was eight. But now, the woman was of merging age but no man (or woman) would want her. Although she dressed conservatively for a women, she had learned the male trades as well as the female ones. They were all scared of her. Afraid she would want all of the power of the relationship." I pause. "OK," I query as my hand drifts down to massage her belly, the way I used to massage her many months ago when she was healthier, feeling her right developing breast brush slightly against my arm, the nip probing like a plant pushing through the snow in spring. "Hmmm," she murmurs in agreement, turning around to throw her head into my chest, faintly smelling my after-shave "Different Loving", unbuttoning my shirt as if were August and not January, shivering from the cold encircling her while letting my hands fall to caress her rounded peach cheeks straining to escape from her jeans. My cock begins to stir with attention as I try not to kiss her and pull my hands upward, trying to defy the natural laws to massage her lower back. It has been a while. I never though I would have the opportunity. I feel her nips stabbing at me, hands running through my forest, body trying to arouse me while her smell began to develop like ash from a smoldering volcano. Reluctantly turning her around, hearing her protest, agreeing to let her sit on my lap, legs wrapped around my thighs as she watches the two dying candles from Friday night dinner, resting against my still growing penis. Feeling her hands brush lightly against it and the my stiffening response as she remembers what she learned in school. "And so, the woman, whose name was the same as yours, Isabella felt that no one would want her and went for long walks in the woods. One day, while walking by the river, now raging from the Spring floods, she saw a stranger, Ferdinand..." "Daddy, that's your name!" "Well, I couldn't think of anyone else," I stammer. "It's your story, may I use my name?" "All right," she sighs as if her hand has been between her legs all this time, fingering and rubbing her clit, seeing if her pussy would get moist if she played with it the way she would let the flow of warm water from a faucet fall against it. "OK," I return to the story. "Isabella try to straddle the river only to fall in. Expecting him to rise to the surface, she leaped in when he didn't surface and pulled him, resisting the strong pull of the water's flow. When he awoke, his head hurting from the fall against the unyielding rocks, he thanked her and asked how she was able to do what most could not. She told him of her upbringing but hid the fact that none of the men in her village had asked for her hand in marriage. Ferdinand settled in the village and courted Isabella telling her that he wasn't courting her because she had saved him but because she interested him. Within a year, the were married and lived happily after." I quickly added looking at my watch. The arms read 11:30 PM. "Mmmm," I heard Isabella moan and turn herself around, using my neck to anchor her arms. "That was a good story. Much better than all the others. But did they kiss and make love, daddy?" "I'm sure they did, darling." "Show me, daddy. Kiss me. Pretend you're Ferdinand." I heard her whisper in my ear, feeling her suddenly cooling breath against my neck. Looking into her wet eyes as Isabella threw herself against me and begged me to make love to her the way her story characters did. "I know," she sobbed, "that I'm not going to grow up. But, daddy, before I go, let me experience it," she pleaded. "Please, Daddy, please." I didn't know what to do. None of the training had prepared me for this possibility. It seemed the only thing I could do was hold her and hope the passing would happen tonight. It didn't seem like she was capable of consent and yet she knew what was happening. I was aroused, wanting to be her Ferdinand, wanting to drag her in lust and love, take her in the snow on the riverbank on the outskirts of our small village, probing her mouth with mine, playing with her tits, ass, skin, whispering sweet words into her ears, anointing her with oils, cuddling with her and starting the next day with a rise. I tried to resist the river of lust ready to burst within me. Our tongues met. Tasting her saltiness from the medication. Finding it to be an aphrodisiac, I plunged my tongue deep in her mouth as she imprisoned my neck and responded. I found one hand begin to caress her behind, slipping my hands into her jeans, fondling the soft cotton panties before penetrating to her bare skin, fingering the crack of her ass. The other slowly unbuttoned her shirt, exposing the training bra, moving to the her back to remove it and release her tits from bondage as my cock strained to have a dream to be free. "OOOOHHH, daddy," I heard her cry as one hand began to fondle my now rising cock, stirring up my volcanic desires, forbidden desires. Her tongue fucked my ears making them moist like a cave. "Take me to your's and mommy's bed. Fuck me hard," she exclaimed as memories returned and I could smell her hornyness. I picked her up, all emaciated 70 pounds she was and carried her, using my cock as an anchor pushing hard against her and laid her down in our bed. Finished undressing her, letting her undress me, feeling her mouth around me, tasting her muskiness, impaling her on top of me and then straddling her as we both quickly exploded in love. "That's what daddys are for, Isabella," I whispered afterwards as my arms tried to caress and protect her. "Thank you," she replied as the redness began to fade from her chest. A few minutes later, as the clock struck midnight, I felt her stiffen then begin to cool beside me. I held her for a few moments and kissed her for the last time. Her illness, the curse we call it on the planet Haman is a strange disease. Two years ago, she was a vibrant women and wife and PhD candidate through the University of Washington. In the last 24 months, she had de-aged one year for every month both physically and mentally to the point where up until the end, she didn't know that I was the man she had pulled from the river rushing by our house. And who would stand by her when she finally went on the ice. But I think, in the end Isabella did know who I was and that's why she demanded that our last act together be something special, making love. And it didn't feel like making love to a child because she knew and could therefore consent. I don't know if it was the right thing to do what she asked but you know, sometimes love is a little kinky. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----