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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2006.  Please
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Secret Rooms
by Your Ghost (address withheld)

***

A teenage girl has an erotic dream about her father. 
(M/f-teen, ped, inc, oral, dream)

***

I didn't know why I went down into the basement. There 
was just something telling me that I needed to go 
there, something waited for me down there, waited to be 
found. I had no idea what it might be, and not knowing 
made me nervous, even a little scared, but I kept 
going, descending each step, peering into the dim light 
cast by the single bulb at the top of the stairs.

I found all of the things my family had stored over the 
years: discarded furniture, boxes of baby clothes, worn 
out sports equipment, old dishes, appliances, school 
projects. There was a ton of the stuff, but it was all 
very neatly arranged and organized. There was a bed 
too, but instead of being disassembled and stored up 
against the wall near the far left corner like I'd 
always remembered, it was put together and sitting 
right in the center of the room. Headboard, footboard, 
mattress and box springs. There was a bedspread on it, 
one I recalled from my childhood. Pillows too. I looked 
at it, squinting through the darkness, and wondered who 
had put it there and why.

I suddenly felt afraid; I didn't want to go near it. 
Yet at the same time I was compelled. I couldn't keep 
myself from crossing the room, going carefully around 
all the boxes and chairs, the volleyballs and hockey 
sticks, until I was standing at the foot of the bed. I 
bent forward and touched the bedspread. It seemed cold.

"I bought that ten years ago."

I jumped at the sound of his voice, turned around 
quickly, my heart beating hard in my chest. Dad stood 
by the bottom of the stairs, where I had just been, his 
arms crossed.

"You startled me," I said.

Dad gave me one of his charming smiles and said, 
"Sorry."

I looked back at the bed, then back at him.

"What did you say?" I asked.

"I said, 'I bought that ten years ago.' The bed. When 
you were just six years old. You complained about 
having to share a bed with Trisha. Said that you were 
big enough for your own bed, so I went out and got it 
for you." Dad's smile widened. "I couldn't tell if it 
really made you any happier, but at least you stopped 
complaining."

"I was happy," I said. "I remember."

"Your mother didn't want me to buy it. She said I was 
spoiling you."

The mention of my mother sparked a hint of pain inside 
of me; she had left when I was twelve, taking my sister 
Trisha with her. She'd wanted to take me too, but I'd 
insisted on staying with Dad. It had been just the two 
of us for the last four years.

"I couldn't help it," Dad went on. "You were my little 
girl." His eyes drifted slowly down my body. "You're 
still my little girl, even though you're not so little 
anymore."

I was suddenly aware of how I was dressed, tanktop and 
peejay bottoms. I was embarrassed too, because I wasn't 
wearing anything underneath, and I knew he could tell. 
I could feel his eyes caressing the intimate parts of 
my body, as if he could see beneath my thin 
nightclothes. I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Who put the bed like that?" I asked.

Dad's smile slowly faded.

"You did," he said.

I blinked.

"I didn't," I said.

"You must have," Dad replied. He dropped his arms to 
his sides. "It's your bed."

I looked at it again. It was my bed. But I couldn't 
remember reassembling it, placing it in the center of 
the basement, putting on the bedspread. Fluffing the 
pillows. Why would I do that?

"I couldn't have," I said, my voice a whisper.

I felt Dad's hand on my shoulder and I turned to face 
him, shame burning my cheeks. I didn't want to look at 
him but he touched me under the chin, pushed gently 
upward until our eyes met. "Lena, everything in this 
room is here because you want it to be."

"But-"

Dad took my face in his hands and kissed me, firmly, on 
the lips. I wanted to resist but I couldn't. Then his 
tongue pushed into my mouth and I felt a startling heat 
blossom in my belly. And between my legs. My shame 
deepened. And yet I felt my arms going around him, 
embracing him, my hands sliding up and down his back.

We kissed long and deep, Dad's tongue filling my mouth. 
I heard myself moan as his hands cupped my breasts and 
began to fondle them. His touch was gentle and knowing, 
and I could feel my nipples getting hard beneath his 
fingers. I moved one of my own hands from his back down 
over his hip, then between us. I found his cock 
sticking out of his pants, surprisingly long and hard, 
and I wrapped my fingers around it. I started to stroke 
it, sliding my hand slowly up and down the shaft, from 
the head all the way down to his balls. Dad groaned 
into my mouth, then broke our kiss. He let go of my 
breasts and took a step back, and even though he didn't 
say anything I knew what he wanted.

I dropped down onto my knees and held his long stiff 
cock in front of my face. I wrapped my other hand 
around it, under the first one, and continued to stroke 
him, using both hands now as I leaned forward and took 
the end of it into my mouth. It was much too large for 
me, much too long, and yet I managed to get the whole 
thing in my mouth, sliding my lips and tongue all the 
way to the end of it. I could feel his pubic hair on my 
nose, and his balls against my chin. The head of his 
cock was in my throat, filling it completely, and yet I 
could still breathe.

I thought to myself, 'I have my dad's cock in my 
mouth.'

"Oh, Lena," Dad said softly as he put his hands on top 
of my head. "My sweetheart, my darling. I love you so 
much."

I moaned around his cock, knowing he would like that, 
and slowly brought my lips and tongue back toward the 
head. I held his balls in one hand and massaged them 
gently as I began sucking and stroking him. Dad ran his 
hands through my hair, moaning and whispering things to 
me, filthy things that I'd never heard him say before.

Suck my cock, Princess. Suck Daddy's big cock, take it 
all in.

His words, and the tone of his voice, the sensation of 
his cock moving inside my mouth, and his sudden hands 
on my breasts, caressing and squeezing, it all fanned 
the small heat inside of me, lured it into life. I 
became more excited, sucked and stroked with greater 
energy. Dad groaned my name, and then I felt his cock 
throbbing and his come spurting into my mouth. It was 
hot and sweet and it flowed down my throat like thick 
water.

I pulled my mouth away and wiped my lips with the back 
of my hand. I stood up and looked at my dad like a 
little girl needing affection. Dad took me in his arms 
again, kissed me, then suddenly we were falling onto 
the bed together. He lay on top of me, his body heavy 
on mine, and now we were naked and he was kissing my 
breasts. I felt him take my nipples into his mouth, 
seemingly both of them at the same time, and gently 
suck on them as his hand moved up my thigh.

His fingertips brushed my pubic hair, then delved down 
into it, touching my pussy. He caressed the lips 
lightly, up and down, up and down, then I felt one of 
his fingers penetrating me. The heat that had bloomed 
inside me grew into a fire, burning white hot in the 
center and flaring out to my arms and legs, through my 
whole body.

I told myself I didn't want this, it was wrong, it was 
incest, and yet at the same time I found myself 
spreading my legs as wide as they would go.

Dad's finger slid further and further into me as he 
continued to lick and suck at my nipples. His finger 
felt huge, as big as a man's cock, and he began pushing 
it in and out of me, fucking me with it, and then I 
realized that it wasn't his finger anymore, it was his 
cock. Dad was fucking me with his cock, and suddenly I 
exploded and melted inside.

I took his face in my hands and kissed him, pushed my 
tongue into his mouth, then took his into mine. He was 
still fucking me, steadily pushing his big cock into me 
again and again, and I sucked on his tongue, out of 
control now, not caring that I was being bad. His 
tongue moved in and out of my mouth in tandem with his 
thrusts into my pussy. I felt myself getting closer and 
closer to orgasm, the heat and the pressure building 
inside of me until I wanted to cry out. I did cry out, 
a shrill yelp of unrestrained pleasure as my second 
orgasm engulfed me.

Dad continued to fuck me, harder and harder, battering 
me with his cock, until finally he hugged me so tight 
that he squeezed the breath out of me. I gripped his 
biceps and held on with all my strength. And then he 
was coming, pumping his hot semen into my body, into my 
pussy, into my womb. It poured into my like a giant 
river, filling me up and overflowing, spilling out of 
my pussy and onto the bed.

Dad nearly shouted with pleasure as his cock continued 
to erupt. He pulled out of me and held it in his hand, 
stroked himself, and his come jetted from the head in 
milky arcs that splashed onto my belly, my breasts, all 
over my face. There was more of it than humanly 
possible, and I was bathed in it, swimming in it, and 
still it burst from him, pouring over me like a 
waterfall.

Dad lay on top of me again, embraced me, kissed my 
semen-covered face, whispered his love. I held him too 
and returned his kisses, and when his cock slipped back 
inside of me my body filled up with light and orgasm 
rushed through me like a firestorm.

And then suddenly I was alone, going back up the 
stairs, away from the basement and the bed I'd known as 
a child. I was still nude, and as I looked down I 
noticed that my belly had grown, inflated. I was 
pregnant. Pregnant with my daddy's baby. I stopped at 
the top of the stairs, placed a hand on my swollen 
stomach, and smiled.

And then I woke up.

***

I was in my own room, in the bed that I'd had since the 
old one had gone down to the basement. I'd thrown the 
covers off me, but even in the cool morning air I could 
feel the warmth of my body, my clammy skin. There was a 
tightness in my belly, my nipples were hard, and the 
place between my legs felt full and wet. I had come in 
my sleep.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes, trying to chase away the 
fog of slumber, but at the same time trying to remember 
the dream. It wasn't hard; I'd been having the same 
dream now for more than a week. Every detail was the 
same, every word spoken, every movement made. Even the 
end result, my body's memory of orgasm, was the same.

I looked at my clock. Seven in the morning. Earlier 
than usual. I could go back to sleep, but for some 
reason I didn't want to. Instead I got up, put a robe 
on over my peejays, and went to the bathroom. I washed 
my face, then studied myself in the mirror. I tried to 
find some explanation for what had been happening to 
me, but the only thing reflected back was the confusion 
in my large dark eyes. I looked down at my breasts, saw 
that my nipples were still hard. I touched them, to 
make sure that they were real and not some leftover 
illusion.

I left the bathroom and went downstairs, wandered 
through the living room, the kitchen, the family room. 
The house was completely silent and still. I went to 
the door that led down the basement, paused there for 
just a moment, then opened the door and went down the 
steps. I found everything there, almost exactly like it 
was in the dream; the boxes, the furniture, the 
volleyballs and hockey sticks. My bed was leaning 
against the wall, in pieces.

It wasn't real, I told myself. It wasn't real, 
but...but what? But it could be? Could it be?

I closed my eyes and tried to remember back when I was 
six, when the bed had been replaced. Had my dad done 
anything to me then? Something that had buried itself 
in my subconscious, something that was banging on the 
doors of my mind and demanding to be let out?

No, I didn't think so. Dad had always been a great dad 
to me. The best dad in the world. Besides, if there had 
been anything like that, then the memories would be 
frightening, terrible, painful. Nothing in the dream 
had made me feel that way.

What was it, then? Dreams were all about unfinished 
business, but if it wasn't about the past, then it had 
to be about the future. But we can't know the future.

"We can only create it," I told myself.

I went back up the stairs and closed the door to the 
basement. I went back through the living room, back up 
to the second floor. I passed my own room and went to 
the door of my dad's bedroom, opened it and went in. 
Dad was still in bed, asleep. At first I was surprised; 
I expected that he'd already gone to work, but then I 
realized that this was Saturday.

I went over to the side of his bed, stood there and 
watched him sleep. He was handsome, my dad, with strong 
masculine features, a long muscular body. He was forty-
two but he was still good-looking enough that even my 
girlfriends swooned when they saw him. Sometimes I did 
too.

I pulled the covers down to his waist. His biceps and 
his chest were well-defined, his stomach hard and flat. 
I couldn't see what I'd been looking for, although I 
saw the bulge in his pajama bottoms. That mysterious 
part of him that I'd never been allowed to know about. 
The sentry guarding the door to a room I was never 
allowed to enter.

I wondered how much his secret room looked like mine.

I took a deep breath, lifted the covers up, and crawled 
into the bed next to my dad. I lay next to him, my body 
against his, and put my arm across his stomach. I laid 
my head on his shoulder, closed my eyes, and thought 
about the nature of dreams.

Sometimes they came to warn us, but more often they 
came to lead us, to guide us toward the things we 
wanted, the things we needed, the things we feared and 
yet wished for.

the end

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 47