Message-ID: <7388eli$9801181707@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: rapeslut Subject: Photo Pro (1/3) by Phil Phantom Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii 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: <34BFEC07.41E5@hotmail.com> The following story is an uncensored sexual fantasy involving practices that are illegal, immoral, socially unacceptable, and messy. Only mature adults with a firm grasp on reality should venture further. This story promotes nothing, and nothing in this story should be taken seriously. Readers are cautioned not to attempt any of these acts without professional guidance and a net. If you are underage, stand, move away from the console, and unplug the computer. Reading stories like this can make you go blind. If you are a servant of the Lord, looking for sinners to convert, study this story and memorize it. This will help you recognize sinners when you see them. Good luck, and avoid mirrors! Phil Phantom "Photo Pro" (Part one of three) By Phil Phantom Ginger returned from the clinic with a curious gleam in her eye. She set her purse down and joined her mother at the dining table, saying, "All right, Mother, the jig is up. Daddy is not my biological father. I was rejected as a donor. I know enough genetics to know why. Our blood types can't be related in one generation. I'm not upset, but I would like to know who you were fucking twenty-two years and six months ago." "I knew you'd find out one day. It's not like I tried to keep it a big secret. Christ, we didn't meet until I was sixteen." "I never knew when you guys met. I always thought you were childhood sweethearts that got careless, then married when you were old enough. I do have some of his features. It's no big deal, really; but who was the guy that got lucky?" "Honey, I don't know who your father was, but I can narrow him to a field of seven men. Your Grandpa is a prime candidate." "That's interesting. Did he rape you?" "No, he didn't rape me. He did use intimidation, cunning, and deception, though; and he did screw me two or three times a day during that time." "What did he do, exactly? Come on, I told you about all the things Daddy did to me. Maybe I should just call Daddy, Frank, now. Shit, if her ever gets a kidney, we could get married." "You bore him three kids. Marrying him seems the decent thing to do." "You're still bitter, aren't you? Look, you divorced him; he didn't divorce you. We could have shared." "I am not bitter, Ginger. I am glad you took him off my hands, but I don't recall you ever offering to share, either. I went a full year without sex from him, then I divorced him." "You could have gotten laid. If you ask me, you were prettier and sexier than I was back then. I'd say we are even, now, though." "True, but I wasn't sixteen and a virgin; besides, who said I wasn't getting laid? I just said I hadn't had any from Frank." "You are bitter, but come on, tell me about my potential fathers. I am especially interested in hearing about the other six men who could be my daddy." "Well, you won't learn much about them from me, except for what they did to me. I never learned who they were, what they did, or their real names. They were always Fred, Joe, Jim, Bill, Bob, Phil, and Ed. Each time I saw them, they had switched names. Even Daddy assumed a new identity each week. One week they'd be calling him Phil, the next week, he'd be Bob. You needed a score card to keep up, and they damn near drove poor Mom, crazy. She's terrible with names, anyway." "This has got to be good, I mean, you were thirteen or fourteen at that time. At least I waited till I was sixteen. Come on, tell me about my bad Grandpa and his band of merry perverts. I'm in the mood for a juicy sex story. I haven't had a good poke in over a month." "Oh, all right. If you want a juicy sex story, I'll give you one that will drown your asshole. For your information, from the moment they learned I was pregnant with you, they took me out of school and kept me at home, naked, with my arms bound behind my back. I could do nothing for myself. I was fed, pottied, enemaed, twat shaved, fucked, sucked, photographed, and mated to dogs on a daily basis; and all I could do was watch my tits and belly grow." "Oh, God, Mother! I love it. Tell me the whole story, from the beginning. How did it start?" "This all started when Daddy got into photography and built a studio out back. Mom wanted him to have a hobby after his medical retirement, and she fully supported his interest in photography. He went away to schools, took courses, and invested literally thousands in fancy equipment. "One day, he asked me to be his model. He told me he wanted to take artistic pictures of me to enter in contests. I was so flattered, me, an art photography model. At first, that's just what they were, art photos. Though many involved partial or total nudity, they were tastefully done. He entered my pictures in contests and won a few minor awards. Mom made a big deal out of the awards and displayed them proudly. The underground kiddie porn exchange discovered Daddy long before he received any real recognition. They wanted more graphic shots - frontal nudes and beaver shots. They paid in cash. Daddy really got into photography then. Mom thought it was great that Daddy turned pro." "Mother, this is making me hotter than shit. I have to masturbate. I'm sorry, but I have to." "Go right ahead, but don't expect me to look away." Ginger self- consciously lifted her short skirt and revealed a bare, shaved, full-lipped, inflamed pussy right before both hands cupped the lewd sight, and Ginger swung her legs under the table. Bonnie said, "No panties. How convenient." "Look if you want to, but don't comment. Go on with the story! Please!" "Give me something to look at, or the story is over." "Shit, Mom, I gave you a peek on purpose. Besides, it's not like you've never seen it. You're not turning queer on me, are you?" "I've never seen you masturbate; and I am certainly not queer. Bisexual, yes, but not queer. Well?" "Oh, fuck! All right." Ginger swung her legs back to face Bonnie, then spread her knees wide, lifted the skirt to her middle, and began lewdly fondling her wet sex, saying, "Does this make you happy? Can you see everything all right?" "Yes, thank you." She resumed, "Mom didn't know Daddy had a little home grown porno business going, and he also had a local clientele. In her mind, Daddy was a professional art photographer with an international clientele. Had she ever just poked her head in his studio, she'd have known what was going on. The place was wallpapered with my pornographic pictures. Those pictures were in no way tasteful and grew progressively less so. It wasn't long before he had me doing the splits over a camera lens and using household objects as dildoes. Anything he thought he could cram up my twat was photographed sticking out of my beaver from every angle. I knew we weren't making art, but I enjoyed posing for nasty pictures. "Before long, the weekly sessions took a pornographic turn, and grew progressively more pornographic as Daddy tried to fill customer requests. This trend, I didn't like, but Daddy was a pro at moving me along from one level to the next, while blaming the escalation on demands of the market place. In no time he had me masturbating for the camera. He had me fucking myself in the ass with rubber dicks. He gave me enemas. He had me sucking his cock within a month. He fucked my ass the following month and took my cherry a week later. I was thirteen at that time, and I prayed Mom would find out what was going on and put an end to it, because I couldn't. "When I stopped protesting, and he knew I wouldn't tell on him, he began inviting his porno buddies over for photo sessions. They only watched, at first, but they soon began to use me as well. This went on all through High School, and actually continued long after your dad and I were married. "Wow, I guess Dad was right; you were getting it on the side." "Side, back, front, up-side-down, and in every hole." "Cool! But why did you keep posing for Grandpa after you got married?" "Daddy blackmailed me with the pictures he had; and besides, I enjoyed the variety." "So why did you stop?" "After I divorced Frank, I didn't care about the blackmail, and I just got tired of being a sex toy for a bunch of dirty old men. I just quit." "Did Grandma ever find out?" "Yes, but in a way, no, at least not at first. The story is long, rather complicated, and more than a little bizarre. If you're in a hurry, I'll tell you about her some other time." "No, I've got plenty of time. I want to hear everything; besides, Grandma Stevens is my favorite relative. She's the one who encouraged me to have sex with Daddy. I am especially interested in how she ties into this." "Well, that doesn't surprise me. Okay, I will start at the beginning, but you have to realize that she was not the woman that you know today. She made Mary Poppins look like Madonna. Mom was very excited when Daddy and I began working together, and she cleared three walls in anticipation of creating a gallery of award-winning photos to go with the plaques and trophies. When she saw the first picture to win an award, she blushed and said how nice it was, then placed the picture in a box. "After that, Mom just wanted the awards, not the pictures, and she wanted noting to do with the studio out back that produced them. That was fine with Daddy. Still, she saw plenty but never acknowledged what she saw for what it was. This was my biggest frustration. Imagine standing before a cop with a mugger behind you. The mugger has a gun in your back and is wearing a ski mask. You have your hands high, and the cop doesn't notice anything unusual. That's what my home life was like for me. Mom either had a classic case of chronic denial syndrome, or she was the most naive human on Earth. I never found out which it was. She played her part well if she was aware from the start. I honestly don't think she suspected a thing. She was way too sweet and innocent for what was going on, and far too maternal to turn a blind eye." "There must have been some close calls." "There were many, for any normal person. To show how naive she was, or how effective her mental block was, imagine this. It's two in the morning. I am almost fourteen. I come in through the kitchen door walking stiff and bowlegged with a small towel wrapped around me. Daddy is walking behind me carrying the clothes I'd worn when I went out to the studio with him and six men earlier that evening. "She had just gotten up for a drink of water and unexpectedly met us in the kitchen. She eyed me all over, sees my hair mussed and matted with semen, cum all over my face, trails running down my neck, and gobs of slimy white goo running down both legs. She looks to Daddy and says, "Walter, you shouldn't keep Bonnie up past midnight on a school night. I don't see why photo art has to involve such long sessions, or why it has to be so messy." "What did she think that mess was?" "I don't know, but Daddy told her it was cream to protect me from the hot lights, and that the container got dropped and splashed me. She bought this story and even helped wipe the cream off with a wash rag." "Didn't she notice the cream was coming from your pussy? "My asshole, too? And yes, but she didn't say anything about it. She went right to work and wiped my legs, face, and neck. Daddy stood by watching with an amused grin. He, in fact, suggested she check between my legs and told her that's where most of the cream went. She nervously removed the towel and knelt before me. Daddy reached down and took me by the right ankle, then lifted my foot high over my head. I was doing the sideways splits with my beaver in her face, holding onto his waist. "You can imagine the obscene view she had. She saw how red, open, and swollen my pussy was. She must have seen the red hand prints from where they'd spanked me. I'm sure she noticed my asshole still stretched and open. I could feel gobs of the stuff oozing from both holes. She dabbed at my pussy, dabbed at my asshole, then made a wiping pass along my crack. Daddy was enjoying himself, and in no hurry to end the game. He held me in that position for a good five minutes. Mom stayed in place and caught each new dribble as it appeared. So, you see, Daddy didn't have much to worry about from her." "Mom, Grandma had to know. Nobody is that stupid." "I don't know. I think she refused to see what her eyes were showing her. Daddy offered an explanation, a dumb one I'll grant you, but an explanation. I think she latched onto his explanation like a life ring thrown to a drowning woman." "Okay, but how did he explain the hand prints on your ass?" "He didn't need to. Daddy had always been a strict disciplinarian. He'd spank me on my bare ass with his hand, and sometimes with a belt for the most minor infractions. Mom hated seeing him do that to me, so she'd leave the room. I suppose she figured I'd given him some back talk during the shoot. She knew Daddy would be a hard task master to work for." "I guess, but I still can't see how she could not put two and two together." "At that time, I don't think she could have dealt with the reality. She was into collecting ceramic poodle miniatures, doing needle point, Camp Fire Girl fund raising, and organizing Tupperware home parties. I don't think sex ever entered her mind, and the woman wouldn't say the word shit if she a mouthful." "She will now." "Yes, but the woman you know as Grandma is not the same woman that raised me to the age of fourteen. I'm telling you, she was living in a world of her own creation. In her mind, we lived in Mr. Rogers' neighborhood, and she was Susie Homemaker who lived by the glen. "Daddy went out of his way to make her realize what he'd been doing with me. I could see he wanted to turn her world in-side- out, and he found her denial amusing. While she was wiping sperm from my twat, he said, 'It looks a lot like sperm, doesn't it?' She admitted it did. He said, 'It tastes like sperm, too. Taste some. Go on, it's safe. Taste it!' I watched Mom lick some from her finger. With a face blushing red, she agreed. He then said, 'Yeah, by the looks of things, with all that spermy stuff leaking out of her pussy and asshole, you'd think we were out there fucking her, huh?' "Mom blushed a deeper red, but said, 'I thought no such thing. I do wish you wouldn't use those words in front of Bonnie. She's just a child.' "I asked Daddy about Mom's strange behavior the following day, and he said, 'If she don't know what's going on, she's a bigger fool than I thought. On the other hand, she knows I won't stop, and knows better than to try and stop me. She's going to see what she wants to see.' "His assessment appeared correct. There were numerous instances when she'd see me coming in late and totally naked in the company of dad and several men, and usually leaking semen down my legs to my heels, making pecker tracks on her waxed floor as I padded through on bare feet. I didn't want to believe she knew what was happening to me but was too intimidated and insecure to say or do anything about it. That seemed to be the case, though. "Mother, why didn't you just come right out and tell her what they were doing?" "Daddy made me promise not to ever tell a soul." "And you felt you had to honor a promise to a child molester." "He was my dad, Ginger. You of all people should know the position I was in." "But I did tell you." "Yes, when your belly was so big your clothes wouldn't fit, and you were too far along to abort. Keep in mind, at this point we were only two or three months into the sexual activity, and the sessions with other men present were only a month old. I was waiting for Mom to wake up. I figured nothing would change, but she'd at least get me on the pill or insist they use rubbers." "Okay, Mom, you're right. I can see where your head was. I still don't understand hers, though." "I didn't either. I tried to rationalize her behavior. I knew she was very gullible and naive, and she knew art photography involved nude modeling and was a respectable field. She thought Daddy's cronies were art people and photography experts and that seeing me naked was necessary and essential. I think she figured they thought nothing of seeing a nude child model." "Could you just walk around the house, naked, with men there?" "Not at first, but after that late night scene in the kitchen, Daddy thought it was cool to flaunt their activities in front of her. The men thought the game was fun, too. The sessions would start in the house and go to the studio only after everyone arrived. Daddy decided I should wait naked. He'd have me stripped and sitting on the table before the first man arrived. "Mom wasn't happy about Daddy stripping me in the house, but she remained quiet about it and even served coffee. The men would gather around our large oval dining table and drink coffee for thirty minutes to an hour before going out to the studio. They would gather again for an after-shoot beer and bull session that sometimes lasted into the early morning. Mom joined these sessions, but she kept a low profile whenever photo business was being prepared or discussed. "While waiting for everyone to arrive, the men talked photography, discussing the upcoming shoot with their attention focused on me. I was, after all, sitting naked in the center of the fucking table. They discovered that even if they touched me openly in intimate areas, Mom wouldn't raise an eyebrow. They kept pushing the limits, trying to get her to crack. Daddy encouraged them to try and assured them that whatever her complaint was, he could smooth things over. "At first, they posed me in what they called aesthetic poses, discussing my photogenic qualities. They also discussed lighting and shadow for the upcoming shoot. They played their roles to the hilt and used all kinds of technical lingo that no one understood. They also used clinical terms for my female body parts. "I suppose, to Mom, the strange pre-shoot warmup routine looked proper and professional. Even when they made me sit back and expose a spread beaver, or used their fingers to trace shadow and highlight areas on my pussy lips. She might blush, look away, go after coffee, but she never raised an objection." Ginger made a face of disbelief and said, "Mom, that's incredible. She watched men touching your pussy and never said anything about that? She had to be in on it." "No, not then she wasn't. There would be no reason to hide. I'd be the only one she was hiding that fact from, and she didn't need to hide from me. I was no threat to anyone at that point. I was whipped. I totally accepted my lot in life." "She had to be suspicious." "No, not even when their attentions centered more and more on my intimate anatomy. By the way they acted, you'd think art photography was the art of photographing a young girl's beaver. This was typical. A guy would be toying with my clit while Mom asked him if he cared for a warm-up for his coffee. The closest she got to objecting was when a guy stuck his finger up my ass. He didn't keep that finger still, either. He finger fucked my asshole with Mom looking on. She meekly said, 'Is that really necessary?' Daddy said, 'That's called rectal enhancement. Probing the rectum produces a prominence and swelling in the sphincter muscle which results in better shadow effects, dear.' Her response was, 'Oh.'" Ginger said, "Oh? You've got to be kidding. This could be a comedy if the story were halfway believable. I think you're jerking my chain, Mother." "I'm not kidding. This is all true, I swear to you. To top it off, she apologized for questioning the man's motives. She said, 'I'm so sorry. Every time I think something bad is going on, there turns out to be a perfectly rational explanation. As you can tell, I know nothing about this field.'" "Oh, that's rich, Mother. How did anyone keep a straight face?" "They didn't, and she was always asking, 'What's so funny?' The next time we had a session, they laid me out on the dining table with my knees drawn up and pulled back. I had a man holding each leg wide and pressed down on the table top. Mom came over to see what was up and looked shocked to see me in such a vulgar and vulnerable position. Another man stepped up and started masturbating me, feeling my pussy all over, poking his fingers deep inside, rubbing and pinching my clit, pulling on my clit, in fact. At one point, he had his two middle fingers thrust in to the palm, demonstrating to Mom that I was no virgin. Mom stood by and watched him do this and finally asked in a concerned voice, 'What is the purpose in doing that to her?' "Daddy says, 'It's like the anal stimulation technique. Massaging the vagina brings out the vaginal highlights by stimulating blood flow. This makes the vagina blossom into full prominence and produces the best photo effects when combined with proper lighting. What were you thinking, Beth? Dirty thoughts again.' "Mom said, 'Oh, no! Absolutely not. I was not questioning the practice. I knew what he was doing to Bonnie had to be for a good reason. I was just curious, that's all.'" "Mother, I think Grandma was jerking your chain. That would be just like her, too." "That's possible, but totally out of character for her back then. You could read the genuine anxiety in her face when she saw something inappropriate going on, but as soon as any explanation was offered, relief flooded over her. I doubt she could act that well, even now." "I sure wish I knew her back then. I'm sorry, Mother, but this strikes me as extremely funny, besides being a super turn on." "It gets funnier then, so stick around. Before we go on, though, get naked." "WHAT? Oh Mom!" "Get naked, or we stop here." "FUCK!" Ginger got to her feet and quickly went about divesting herself of all clothing, saying, "I think you are becoming queer for me. God, this is going to be so weird." "You have a terrific body, Ginger. Why keep it under cover when you are jerking off. And, I do love those firm, sweet titties of yours." Ginger kicked off her shoes and stood naked for a few seconds before returning to her seat. She said, "Look, but no touching. I don't have a queer bone in my body, Mother, so don't get any ideas." "Ginger, do you know why I never made a fuss about you and Frank getting it on?" "I don't know. I just figured you were afraid to say anything to him. Why didn't you?" "For one thing, I couldn't blame Frank. For another, I was hoping the two of you would become uninhibited. I was hoping I'd see you two fucking, and see you going about the house naked. That's also why I surrendered my marital bed to you and took your room." "That was so cool. I felt like the wife, and you were like our live-in maid. That's what I pretended you were. That's also why I never lifted a finger around the house after I moved in with Dad. The other kids were so jealous, especially Cindy. Mark and Steve hated me, but they were still getting off on the situation. You got your wish, though. We fucked all over that house, and I hardly ever wore anything, even at the dinner table. It wasn't the same after the divorce and you moved out last year. By the way, Cindy is two months pregnant. You should stop by and see her. A pregnant fourteen-year-old needs her mommy. You, of all people, should relate to that." "I can't say I'm surprised. She can still get an abortion this early. I'll pay for it if she wants one." She wants an abortion, but Daddy won't let her get one. I don't want her to have one either. Mark and Steve want to watch her belly get big, so you'd be the only one." "Well, I wouldn't want to spoil everyone's fun. Cindy's going to have a baby." "Great! You're the best, but quit staring at my tits with that hungry look. You're not getting any, so forget it." "I guess you've heard enough, then." "Oh, Jesus. Oh, all right. What do you want?" "Bring them here. Let me have a suck and nibble of those fine titties." -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |