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From: yngfox@aol.com (YngFox)
Subject: Young Fox--Totally Twisted
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I think this is one of the sickest stories I've ever written, and it is
unfinished. Each paragraph brings me closer and closer to the rim of hell.
Let me know if you like it. For more stories, see my site at Mr.Double.Com.
http://www.mrdouble.com/htm/authors/youngfox.htm
Taking care of a little slut can be a full time chore. Especially if she's
your legal ward and you're the only family she has left and she is just
shitting bricks to get fucked. Such is the case with Tammy, my niece.
So Tammy crawled out of my bed and stumbled down the hall to the bathroom. I
could hear her retching into the toilet. I just hoped she wasn't going to poop
on the floor again like she did Sunday. Fuck the little bitch, I thought.
She's too young to be drinking anyway and she's pounding down a half quart a
day, sometimes more.
I stick with beer, myself. And weed. Tammy likes weed too, and has a knack
for scoring rock, which I never got into. Rock for pussy, so I don't have to
worry about the moola.
When she came back to bed I said "Tammy you look like bloody hell," and I
rolled over and pulled the covers up around my shoulders.
"Thanks a lot Jackson," she snarled at me like she was my peer instead of my
little niece. She never did call me "Uncle Jackson", even when she was
learning to talk, always "Jackson". Just like she called my sister "Alice."
"All I need's another drink, I'll be okay." And she plopped her bare butt on
the bed and I could hear her pouring from the bottle and then I smelled the
waft of the Johnnie Walker hitting bottom in her rocky roiling gut. Followed
by a langourous deep belch. Even I had to laugh at that, and she giggled with
me. I rolled over and embraced her, kissing her whiskey face.
I stroked her limp sweaty hair and said, "You know baby you really should slow
down some. It took me years to establish a statis, and you're pouring down
alcohol like you were a teenager or something."
"Ah, fuckit," she said, licking my lips. Suddenly I began farting non-stop,
first a couple of loud pops then a string of smaller rifts. It was like
popcorn popping. Tammy giggled. I couldn't stop myself, it was the beer shits
coming on me fast, and if I didn't stop I was going to squirt soupy shit on the
bed. I wish I'd worn my shorts, but too late now. Luckily, after my
Tchaikovskian symphony of flatulence, I was de-gassed and unshitted. Close!
"Fuck it, you say?"
"Yeah, Jackson, fuck it." The little slut. Hotter than molten pennies.
Okay, I will, I decided. I pulled her over to the middle of the bed and got on
top of her. She opened her legs as wide as she could. I imagined her as a
butterfly, stuck in an entomologists display. My erection was funny feeling.
Almost like it wasn't there, a mere after-thought. It was woody and spongy and
mindlessly hard, but there was precious little sensation in it. Then I was in
her and I felt like a starfish rubbing myself into the sandy bottom of the
sea--in heaven.
As I fucked Tammy I couldn't help but smile to myself thinking just how
appalling she looked. Most men would never give her a glance, if anything,
they'd turn their heads away. Her hair was thin and mousy brown, he had a
piggish nose, and her stomach was swollen from booze. She almost looked
pregnant, of course that was not possible. And good crikey, her eyes!
Bloodshot and manic at the same time.
Yet Tammy was a wondrously sexual girl with the most clever pussy muscles I
ever used.
And she was razor sharp smart. When I became Tammy's guardian, after her
mother, my sister Alice, was killed, Tammy had been in a coma. When she came
out of it, I had been afraid her much vaunted intelligence would be affected,
but it was not. Tammy was the smartest little girl I ever heard about. Alice
and I had been much the same. I remember how for years the two of us would
compete to see who read the most, and though I usually won at the end of the
year, it was close. We both averaged five books a day. And we read everything
we could get.
The first thing Tammy and I did after I got her home from the hospital was
fuck. Tammy whimpered throughout, her cunt dried from long disuse. "Shit,
Jackson, I tried to get one of the Doctors to fuck me but he just shot me up
with a painkiller. Thought I was delirious."
Alice was only twenty when she and Tammy ran off the road. I remember how
angry our parents had been when they discovered Alice was pregnant. Poor kid,
she hadn't a clue whose baby it was. How could she? I mean, and I guess this
sounds stupid now, but at the time we thought, who would ever think a 12 year
old girl would be knocked up? I didn't think she was my kid, and looks-wise I
was pretty sure she was grafted off one of the Downer kids. What a lunkhead
family that was, inbred for generations. Alice was just thirteen when she
popped out Tammy.
Alice of course was delighted and after she found a guy to move in with, taking
her baby along, she set forth with a plan to corrupt and mature that little
girl into a sex machine. Before she was walking well Tammy was sucking cocks.
Alice dissolved into laughter everytime she saw her daughter engaged in sex.
I'm pretty non-judgmental myself, but even I was a bit grossed out the first
time I saw Tammy out on the prowl. She was asking this total stranger in the
park for a butt fuck. As I sat there on the bench watching the old man screw
her ass, I remarked to myself how red and raw her butthole looked. Constant
usage, I guess. Tammy was relentless.
Anyway, Tammy began drinking and drugging when she was six. Her mother had
kept her out of school preferring "home education", which consisted of a tutor
who taught her Latin and Greek and mathematics. Alice and I were both fluent
in the classic languages, thanks to our Dad's insistence. No social studies,
no home room, no English, no nothing else, just the classics. Even then Tammy
read at college level. She especially liked philosophy, historical fiction,
and books about ancient history, with a special niche in coinage. Gold and
silver coins. Tammy could name every Roman Emperor and his dates, and describe
the coins of his era. She was a bright little girl.
I was 21 when Tammy came for two weeks to my New York studio. I do sculpture,
a few sketches for sale too. Tammy was shameless about blowing me and fucking.
I liked her twat.
Then the accident happened. The autopsy showed Alice had been higher than a
kite on morphine. Tammy didn't have any autopsy. She wasn't dead. But if
they had, they'd have found mescalin. I think it was the drugs that kept her
from being killed. I really do.
After I got done cumming in her Tammy belched again, reached over for the
Johnny bottle, almost knocking it over, and took a swig right from the bottle.
She then recited the opening of the Odyssey in Greek, and looked at me with a
challenge in her eyes as if saying, "See, do you think I'm drunk? You try
that!" Then she voided her bowels on the sheets. Second time this week. Good
thing I hadn't bothered to wash the bedding, as it was ruined anyway. It was
so weird sleeping in half wet shit, but you get used to it. And the constant
fucking helps.
My cock hurt. I think Tammy must have picked up an infection somewhere. Maybe
it was just the intensity of my ejaculation. I'd have a doc check her. Her
ass was red too, but that was because of the bed.
Tammy drifted off to sleep again, her breathing so shallow I suspected she'd be
out til past noon. I took advantage of her intoxicated sleep to chew on her
nipples. In my fantasies I often thought of tearing her nipples off in my
teeth and swallowing them, leaving her with bloody holes around which, in some
years, her tits would grow. But of course I didn't really intend to hurt her.
It was just that the tiny little pink buds were so arousing, that's all.
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