My name is Janine Simms, Janey for short. I am 30 years old. I live here in Georgia, in the midst of the Savannah marshlands. I live with my younger brother Timmy, and my daughter Hope. We live a quiet but peaceful life. For all these years, I have been silent about what had happened to me, trying to forget; but of late, the memories have been coming back, filling me with haunting pain. I figure the only way I can ever escape these memories is to tell my story to someone else. And so...here's my story.
I grew up in the woods of Pennsylvania, the eldest daughter of Rupert and Erin Simms. I had one younger brother, Timothy-he was the most adorable little sibling. Our parents were normal rural parents. Sundays we'd all attend service like all the other families in the area, Mom was an active member of the church choir. We were everything you'd expect from the average American family. That all changed during the winter of my fourteenth year. Mom got stricken with cancer, at the young age of 36. I had just turned 14 years old, and Timmy was 3. It was now only us two kids and dad.
When Mom died, we all took it really hard. But we never really shared our grief together, as a family. Timmy was only 3, so he was too young for her death to really impact him, and as for Dad, well, he just got really moody, and spent most of his time outside the house. While he had never really been the warmest father to us, even while Mom had been alive, he was almost distant now. Many nights, he would come home drunk, the smell of booze and cigarettes all over his clothing. For the most part, it was just me and Timothy at home. I wound up having to do most of the housework. I was only 14 then, and most of the times, it was just us two fending for ourselves.
My body started to really develop about the time I turned fifteen. I think Dad also became aware of my development then, because I began to notice him eyeing my chest-at first furtively, but then more and more openly as time went on. We were never really a cuddling type of family, so I knew things weren't quite okay when he started asking me for hugs, or when Timmy and I would be watching a movie in the living room, and he'd walk in, sit on his couch, and pat his lap and ask for his little girl to sit in Daddy's lap.
A few months after my fifteenth birthday, I'd come home from school to find him still there, snoozing on the couch with a newspaper and an opened can of beer. Usually, he would have left for work about a half-hour earlier, and I would come home to find Timmy sleeping. I would usually do my homework and cook dinner for Timmy and me. Dad usually got home around midnight. For some reason, he was hadn't left for work today. It turned out that his construction company had laid him off for drinking on the job.
Well, from that point on, he was at home a lot of the time. After a few weeks, I started getting worried about when he would find a job, and then the weeks turned to a month. When we were really low on money for groceries, I finally got up the courage to ask him if he'd found a job yet, since we needed money for groceries. Rather than reply, he'd reached into his pocket and tossed a check at me, before turning back to the television and his can of beer. It was an envelope, containing a welfare check for the month of July.
With Dad hanging around the house all the time now, I began to feel more and more uncomfortable with his roving eyes. He started commenting frequently on how I'd grown into such a fine woman; meanwhile his eyes would be staring at my chest or my buttocks. He took to finding opportunities to brush against me 'accidentally'. Once, after dinner, while I was washing the dishes, he came up behind me, asking if I needed help with the dishes. Before I could refuse, he'd slipped his arms under mine from behind, and was pressed up against me, so that I had to lean forward toward the sink. With a start, I could feel the heat of his groin right up against my buttocks. I remember gasping, and him chuckling, as he gave a quick grind of his groin against me. Then he'd left the room.
By the time I turned sixteen, my father had still not found a job. Every now and then he'd go for interviews, just to satisfy the welfare agencies, to show them he was earnest in trying to find employment, but he stayed unemployed, and lounged around at home. Dad became less subtle in his overtures toward me. Frequently, he'd comment on how nicely my chest was filling out, or he'd eye my crotch with such intense scrutiny right in front of me. At every opportunity, he tried to cop a feel of my breasts, or grope my buttocks, always trying to make it seem like an accidentally.
"Dad, I'm trying to doing homework... " or "Dad...I need to cook dinner..." These became my frequent excuses to get him to stop. However they became less and less effective. As the months went by, he started getting bolder and more demanding.
Once, on a Friday night, while watching TV after dinner, after Timmy had gone to bed, he said "Jane, come here and sit on your Daddy's lap. I haven't hugged my little girl in such a long time."
The way he said it, in that tone of voice, I knew he wouldn't take no for an answer. I remember walking reluctantly over to him, and then facing away from him, gently seated my right buttock on his left thigh, so that I was only partially up against him. Even then, I could feel his hairy thighs against mine, since I was wearing shorts at the time. What came next was a shock for me, since he had never done anything so obviously sexual before.
I remember gasping out loud, startled, almost losing balance, when suddenly, his thick hands were encircling my hips. Chuckling, he lifted me high and up and twisted me around until I was facing him, with my legs to each side of him. Grunting appreciatively, his hands still tight around my waist, he pulled me downward onto him, settling my pelvis down right against his, so that our crotches were fused together. Now, both my legs were to each side of his legs, so that I was in effect, straddling him. Gasping in fright, I tried to lift myself off of him, but I had no purchase to push against. My feet were off the floor, and when I braced my arms across the arms of the couch to lift myself, he just pulled down on my hips, settling me down again.
"Now that's a good girl", he moaned, as he grounded himself against me. Through his boxer shorts and my own shorts, I could feel the hard bulge of his manhood. As he crushed my crotch against him, he began humping back and forth. With each forward push of his hips, he'd pressed down on my hips, so that I could feel his bulge through the thin material of our clothing.
"Daddy! Let me go! I'm too old to be sitting on your lap! Please!" I whispered frantically, in tears. I didn't want to wake up Timothy, but I was scared to death.
"Soon...baby..soon...", his words began to come in gasps, as his buckling quickened in pace. In embarrassment, I could feel his penis through his shorts. It felt huge. His constant rubbing caused a wedgie in my own shorts, and I could feel my panties riding up into my crotch, between my lips. After maybe a minute of heated crotch grinding, he groaned loudly. His hands came up behind my back, pressing our bodies close together. I could feel my breasts mashed flat against his massive chest, even as he gluing our crotches together. The large bulge of his manhood, which I could feel pressed through the thin material of my shorts and his boxer shorts, was wedged right up against my crotch. Stunned, I could feel it throbbing wildly, as if it had a life of its own. I could feel the heat of his groin through the thin layers of clothing, as it spasmed. Groaning, he held me motionless against him, while he finished his orgasm.
After a few minutes, his grip on me slackened, as he exhaled noisily, leaning back onto the couch. Sobbing, I remembered scrambling off his lap, and running up the stairs to my room, and quickly locking the door behind me. It was only when I was inside, huddled on bed, that I realized my entire crotch area was all damp. I knew from the sex education classes at school what had happened, but the reality of it didn't make it any more palatable. Removing my shorts, I examined my panties. They were soaked wetly with my dad's cum too, so that they looked sheer, making my enflamed vaginal lips visible. I remember thinking that I had my father's sperm soaking through my shorts and panties, and my crotch was now damp with it. Scared, I rushed to the bathroom and wetted a towel to wipe myself clean.
The next day, Dad acted like the whole thing had never happened. And as far as I was concerned, it didn't either. Incidents like these, I learned to put in the back of my mind.
These incidences didn't stop though. Rather, they became more and more frequent. He might be passing by me in the hallway, then without warning, he would reach forward with one hand, cupping my crotch and wriggling his fingers through my pants to massage me down there. Or other times, when I'd come out of the bathroom cloaked in a towel, he'd be there waiting, eyeing me. As soon as I walked passed him, he would pull on my towel, leaving me naked in the hallway. I always ran into my room then, amidst his chuckling. Thankfully, he never pursued. I learned then to take my showers when he was asleep, or he was outside the house.
The months went by. Summer approached, and I neared the completion of my junior year of high school. I continued to do fairly well in school, usually getting all A's with an occasional B in phys ed. or music. I didn't have any close friends. To be honest, I didn't want any. I couldn't invite them over for fear of them seeing my Dad, and I didn't have any time to hang around after school, because I had to watch Timmy.
Dad's perverse little games continued. Things got worse when he began subscribing to all these smut magazines. I remember the first time I came across one of his porno mags, wrapped up in some brown paper. I'd been curious about it, but seeing that it was addressed to my father, and that it wasn't a household bill that I had taken the responsibility for writing checks for, I left it alone. Later the next day, coming home from school, I found the opened magazine, sprawled across his belly as he lay snoring on the living room couch. Curious, I tiptoed to the edge of the couch, leaning forward to take a closer look.
"Family Taboos" the title read. Across the front cover, I could see a picture of a young brunette girl, who looked to be in her mid-teens, on all fours on a bed. Towering behind her, an older man had his arms clasped around her waist. He looked to be rutting into her. "Exclusive photos of father-daughter incest!" the banner read across the cover, artfully shielding the nipples of the girl.
I must have been staring at the cover for a long time, because the next thing I know, when I finally took my eyes off the page, I glanced up to find him staring right back at me. I could feel myself burning red, embarrassed at having been caught looking at his filth.
He gazed at me with an amused look for a brief moment. "So, did you like looking at Daddy's magazine? Does it get you all hot and bothered?" he chuckled?
Furious at myself at having gotten caught, and hating him with a vengeance, I turned around to leave, but his hands quickly shot out, gripping my wrist tightly. Sitting upright on the couch, he yanked me by the wrist, pulling me onto his lap.
"It's okay, Daddy's not angry at your for reading his stuff. In fact, I wanted to show you something I'm sure you'll find very nice." his voice had turned thick. With one arm around my waist, holding me onto his lap, he flipped the magazine over to the centerfold page with his free hand.
"Take a look at this here, Janey" he said, placing the open magazine on my lap. Anything to get this over with, I sighed in exasperation and look down on the picture. It showed the girl from the cover. She was on her back, lying on a bed, with her 'father' above her. Her knees were pressed back towards her head, and her legs were resting on her father's shoulders. My eyes centered downward, and I gasped involuntarily, seeing where her father's immense penis was splitting her vagina.
I swallowed. My thoughts were a blur of confusion. This was the first time I had ever seen the sex act taking place. The centerfold shot was raw and unsubtle. Despite my revulsion over what was happening, I couldn't help but feel a tingle in my loins, at seeing such a graphic display of the sex act. Collecting myself, I spoke "Dad, I really have to go up and do my homework now." I squirmed in his lap, feeling his arousal poking up at me.
Chucking, he tossed the magazine onto the coffee table, relaxing his grip on me. I quickly move up to leave, but his arms quickly recircled around my waist, pulling me back down on him.
"Mmm Janey...did you notice..how much you look like that girl Susie in the picture. Did you see her face--how much she loved it--when she had her daddy's big cock deep up inside her tight wet pussy. She was such a good girl to spread her legs wide open for her Daddy."
My heart was pounding frantically. Daddy had been groping me a lot recently, but he'd never been so open and direct about wanting to fuck me.
"Dad! I gotta go!" I whined, twisting on his lap. His cock felt huge pressing against my buttocks.
"In just a minute.." he panted, as his hips began rocking back and forth against my imprisoned buttocks.
"You know Janey, you're such a good girl to help Daddy out like this.." he panted. "Here you are, helping your daddy satisfy his needs, while yours go on unsatisfied. " He punctuated this statement by grabbing at my crotch through my jeans. "You know, if you're ever feeling lonely or need something to help you sleep better, all's you need to do is come over to Daddy's room, and I'll be more than happy to give you what Susie's daddy gave her." Groaning, he ejaculated in his pants. His lust sated, he released his grip on me. Springing up, I ran up the stairs, sobbing. Damn him! Damn him! Damn him. I wish he would just roll over and die!!
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Mr Double's Palisade
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Changes last made on: Friday, January 1, 1999