Hey, this is my story, so don’t steal it! Repost elsewhere
if you want, but leave it intact (including the e# address
at the end).
“The Lesson” (FFg pedo incest scat)
(This story is for April — a companion soul on the same
journey of desire.)
It was a rainy spring Sunday in the city. I’d spent a
very enjoyable weekend alone, unwinding from an extremely
hectic couple of weeks at the firm, where I’d successfully
negotiated several multi-million dollar contracts that
promised to catapult my firm far ahead of the competition.
Months ago I’d purchased a ticket to today’s Sunday matinee
performance at the ballet. A troupe of young dancers from
the Bolshoi were performing. The Bolshoi started training
dancers at five and six years old. Those who were kept on
began touring at fourteen. This was one of the first visits
of the young corps de ballet to the United States, and word
was that among the current dancers were some as young as
thirteen — admittedly, a bit old for my tastes but
nonetheless, I knew I would enjoy watching these young teens
on stage, particularly since in most cases the rigorous
training delayed the girls’ development considerably.
I arrived at my seat a few minutes before the
performance began. It was on the aisle, and fortunately the
seat next to mine was empty. I hoped it would stay that way,
since I just wanted to concentrate on the young girls on
stage and not be distracted by idle chit-chat with a
stranger. But that was not to be. An attractive woman –
blonde hair, in her mid-thirties, with a rather voluptuous
figure — was led to my row by the usher and directed to the
empty seat next to me. As I stood to let her by, she
apologized profusely for inconveniencing me. More at here
prompting than mine, we fell into conversation. She seemed
very excited at the prospect of the performance we were
about to see, and mentioned along the way she had a daughter
herself, six years old, who she hoped would become a dancer
Her keen anticipation, plus the mention of her
daughter, peaked my interest, and I made sure to be as
charming and personable as I could — which, to tell the
truth, I can be considerably, when I’m sufficiently
The program was a short one, due to the fact that all
the dancers were fifteen years old or younger, but quite
enjoyable. Sitting in the darkness watching these young
bodies, all definitely pre-teen in form and appearance,
dancing together in their skin-tight leotards and tutus
inspired some wonderful fantasies — so much so that I could
not help reaching under the coat on my lap and pleasuring
myself as I watched.
Sunny — that was her name believe it or not — seemed
restless during the whole performance, and now and then
audibly sighed when a particularly fetching young girl took
the stage. After the final curtain came down we walked out
of the theater together and I suggested we get some coffee.
She readily agreed.
Her personality matched her name — and her head of
hair. She was bright, out-going, cheerful and nice. Very
nice. Nice to everyone. Saying “please” and “thank you,”
despite the fact that she had been born in New York and
never left it for very long. Too nice actually. That usually
turns me off completely, but there was something else about
this woman, something that started that old buzzing in the
back of my head, something that stirred in the pit of my
We were on our second cup of coffee when a young woman
with her little girl came into the coffee shop. She was a
lovely little girl, four years old at the most. We both
looked at her and commented on how pretty she was in her
Sunday dress, her hair brushed out and tied with a ribbon.
Then the mother picked up the little girl, giving her a
boost into her arms with a hand on her bottom under the
dress. The girl’s white panties were easily visible. The
mother seemed to keep her hand on the girl’s bottom longer
than necessary, and even caressed it as she held the girl.
Sunny was transfixed. She could not take her eyes of the
girl and the mother’s hand on her little bottom. Finally the
woman put the girl down at their table. Sunny suddenly
snapped out of it and turned back to me — immediately
realizing I’d been watching her watch the girl. The color
shot up Sunny’s face from her neck to her scalp, turning her
face a deep red. It was the most intense, revealing blush I
had ever witnessed. At that moment I KNEW the truth about my
She looked down at the table in acute embarrassment.
Ever since I was a girl, I’ve had this strange ability to
influence people, to get them to reveal their true selves,
to turn the spark of some deep, suppressed longing into a
flame. I can’t explain how it works, but when I meet certain
sorts of people, certain kinds of souls, I can reach back to
the base of my brain, open up a direct connection between my
head and my loins, and with a glance and a few soft words,
I’ve snared a new victim, whose darkest, most hidden desires
suddenly flare up and consume them. I have used this gift
dozens of times to gratify my own desires (which, unlike my
victims’, have never been hidden or denied).
Sunny’s eyes were on her coffee cup. I reached out and
touched her hair. She looked up at me, still in full blush.
I caressed her cheek and looked lovingly into her eyes, then
leaned across the table toward her. “No need to be ashamed,”
I whispered to her, “I was thinking and feeling exactly the
same thing — and more.”
I suggested we pay the check and leave. I hailed a cab
and we climbed into the back. I continued to stroke her hair
and hold her face close to mine so we could whisper to each
other without being overheard. I asked her to tell me about
her daughter. She described a lovely, vivacious girl, six
years old, with red hair and green eyes, who was admittedly
a bit of a devil but despite that the most wonderful child
in the world. I asked her how long she’d been having sex
with her daughter. Sunny gasped. I assured her it was
alright, that I already knew and quite approved. She
described to me without further hesitation a warm and gentle
and loving relationship, one in which she was insistent that
her daughter — Victoria — get as much pleasure as she
herself did — or even more. Nothing forced. All very
spontaneous and natural. In short — an exceedingly nice
sexual relationship between mother and young daughter. I
asked her if I could meet Victoria. She agreed instantly.
The cab pulled up in front of her East side apartment
building. The doorman held the door open for us and called
the elevator. We went up to Sunny’s apartment. She called
out as we stepped inside: “Vicky, we have company!”
The girl appeared — and my heart stopped. Not from her
beauty. She was certainly a very pretty girl, with dark red
wavy hair down to her shoulders, milky white skin, and a
body well on the way from baby fat to becoming a bony,
athletic young girl. What stopped me were her eyes.
I stared into those eyes — and down into a well of
complete and utter depravity. Looking up at me out of those
dark green pools was a preternatural soul like I’d never
encountered before, an ancient soul, despite the six year
old body, hungry for perversions in all their most glorious
and debased manifestations. I shivered, and the hair stood
on the back of my neck. Liquid fire coursed between my cunt
and the base of my brain.
“Vicky,” Sunny said, seemingly a million miles away,
“say hello to our new friend. Her name is Alma.”
Victoria cocked her head at me. “Alma,” she said,
rolling the two syllables around in her mouth, “that’s a
“Do you know what it means?” I asked her. “It means
“Alma,” the girl repeated. I squatted down and she
immediately came up to me. I held her by the arms, gazed at
her in wonder, then caressed her face. We said nothing to
each other in words, but everything with our hearts. We came
together, lips meeting lips, my tongue pushing into her
mouth, and we kissed a deep, passionate kiss of two souls
meeting again after eons of separation. I consumed her, and
she offered herself up to be consumed. With one hand I
gathered together the hair at the back of her head, with the
other I encircled her neck. I pulled her head back so she
had to look up at me. I broke our kiss, my lips still
grazing hers. She opened her mouth wide and I spit into it.
I head Sunny gasp behind me. Victoria swallowed my spittle,
then opened her mouth for more. I shook my head.
“Victoria,” I said to her sternly. “I want you to get
down on your hands and knees right here and wait for me. Do
“Yes, I understand.” The girl immediately dropped to
all fours. I stood and smoothing my skirt approached Sunny,
who was trembling. I took Sunny by the hand, and then held
the back of her head, staring directly into her eyes. “You
don’t know who — what — your daughter is, do you?” Sunny
shook her head slightly. “She is yours, that I can tell. But
I also know you have missed her, overlooked her, failed to
give her what she most desperately wants and needs.”
“But, I’ve tried to provide –” I closed her lips with
“Victoria,” I said to the girl without turning, “what
do you think of your mother?”
Victoria answered without thinking. “She’s nice. Very
“Too nice, don’t you think?”
“Yes, too nice,” the girl answered, still on her hands
and knees on the floor. My hands were stroking not only
Sunny’s face, but her arms, her breasts and her belly.
“Do you want me to show you the truth about your
daughter — and the truth about yourself? Do you dare let
yourself see the truth?” I asked the trembling woman.
She nodded, terrified and compelled at one and the same
“Take off your pantyhose,” I demanded. She didn’t move.
I slapped her. “Take off your pantyhose.” She quickly did so
and handed them to me, still warm and fragrant. “Go and get
me another pair,” I said, “and a hardback chair with no
arms. You have a chair like that?” Sunny nodded and jumped
to follow my orders.
In less than a minute she was back. I took the second
pair of pantyhose from her and had her place the chair where
I wanted it, facing her daughter.
“Now, take off the rest of your clothes. Just toss them
aside.” She hesitated again. I slapped her again, harder,
leaving a stinging red mark on her cheek. She quickly
removed her clothes and I sat her down in the chair. I stood
behind her, looking down over her shoulder at her lovely
“Victoria, look over at your mother.” The girl did as I
told her. “Sunny, put your hands behind the chair.” She did
so, and I quickly tied her wrists together with one pair of
the pantyhose. I moved around in front of her, knelt down
and yanked her legs apart. I tied each ankle to a chair leg,
using a leg of the other pair of pantyhose for each one. I
made sure Sunny’s legs were spread as wide as possible,
fully exposing her sex to Victoria’s gaze. I stood up to
admire my handiwork — and the luscious sight of Sunny bound
and helpless, her body wide open to me. I leaned down,
pulled her hair back until neck creaked from the strain, and
spit into her open mouth.
“Now, watch and learn how this girl wants — and needs
– to be treated,” I said to her.
I stood and did a couple of slow circles around
Victoria, still on her hands and knees of course, my high
heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Finally, I knelt and
lifted Victoria’s dress up over her back. Her white panties
stretched tight across her butt. I pulled those panties down
to her knees, exposing her. I kneaded her ass cheeks.
“Victoria, what is this? What does you mom call it?”
“She calls it my bottom, or my tushie.”
“What is it really called, dear?”
“My ass,” the girl replied.
“Correct,” I said. Then I pulled my hand back and
smacked her ass hard, sending a crack of hand on flesh
echoing around the room.
“Vicky!” her mom cried out in distress. I smacked the
girl again. Both cheeks glowed bright red. Victoria had not
uttered a sound.
I pulled her panties completely off and forced her to
spread her legs further apart and push her ass up in the
air. Her little girl pussy, its slit red and open slightly,
looking back at us. I ram a finger up and down in that
“What does your mom call this?”
“My special place, or my sweet spot.”
“And what is it really called?”
“My cunt.” Sunny gasped.
“Yes,” I replied. “Your cunt.” I extended my middle
finger and twisted it up into her cunt. It slide right up to
the knuckle. “Somebody — or something — has been here
“I put things there,” the girl said.
“What things?” I asked.
“Fingers, candles, carrots.”
I pulled my finger out, dripping wet from her cunt
juices. With the other hand I spread her ass cheeks apart,
revealing her pink-brown asshole. I pressed the tip of my
wet finger against the hole and twisted. This hole was
tighter, but still evidenced prior use. My finger slide
right in, to the knuckle again.
“And things here too I see.”
“Yes,” was the simple reply.
I dug deep with my finger. Inside I found a soft warm
mass. I poked at it, pushing it around inside her rectum.
Then I pulled my finger out. A squib of brown graced the end
of it. I went around to the girl’s other end and lifted her
chin up with my clean hand.
“Do you know what that makes you, Victoria?”
“Yes, a slut and a whore.” I could hear Sunny moaning.
Her pussy was wide open, turned virtually inside out,
dripping with excitement.
“I think I know what kind of slut you are, what kind of
whore,” I said to the girl.
“Please tell me,” the girl pleaded.
“I think you’re a dirty whore. A filthy whore. A nasty
shit-loving whore,” I said. I waved my dirty finger in front
of her, under her nose. The girl trembled. Her eyes
“Yes,” the girl cried. Her eyes were locked on the end
of my finger.
“I bet you’ve done very dirty things. Disgusting, vile
things, things you didn’t tell you mother, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” she cried again.
“What’s the most disgusting, filthy, nasty thing you’ve
ever done, Victoria?”
The girl faltered. “I don’t know.”
“It wasn’t putting a candle into your cunt was it?”
“But you did that, didn’t you?”
“But there was something even dirtier, wasn’t there?”
“You like to drink your own piss, don’t you?” A groan
from Sunny. I could tell she desperately wanted to touch
herself. She struggled against her bounds, to no avail.
“And your mother’s piss too.”
“No!” Sunny called out.
“Victoria, where do you get your mom’s piss from?”
“The toilet, when she forgets to flush.”
“But you did something even dirtier, didn’t you?”
“Yes, with a carrot.”
“What did you do with a carrot?”
“I . . . put it in my asshole.”
“And then what?”
“Then I ate it.”
“Did you like it? Did it taste good?”
“I liked it, but it tasted very bad.”
“Stick out your tongue.” She did so. “You’ve been such
a good girl, I