Pride and Punishment.

The Trial.

Chapter 1. (Francis contemplates her family's social viability.)

It came to Megan's attention that sweet, innocent, Francis may be guilty.

The crime---naughtiness in the first degree!

Francis; a sweet tender and loving girl she is, just turning 19. Brought up in a caring supportive family-unit, with contemporary values and run-of-the-mill double-standards; superficial contradictory mores, and hypocritical religious beliefs, from all accounts, a normal, ordinary household, by all current social markers.

Chapter 2. (Francis rates her parent's psychological relationship.)

The house is alternately dominated by an hysterical mother, and a blasé, cold, affectionless father, who has let-himself-go, and torments his wife by masturbating into his glossy magazine--that he thinks no one knows about--in the bathroom, whilst taking a shit: The dog-eared mag, the one with half the pages stuck together, that he tucks away in the back of the laundry closet, under the folded curtains; a wedding present from his mother, that will never see the light of day again, as long as mommy lives. It's the safest place, for dad's rotten sexual displacement material, which keeps the two together, locked in a downward spiraling malaise, into their approaching old age. It's not pleasant, but more importantly, it is highly predictable, and reliable, and that beats pleasant, or unpleasant, hands down every time.

Chapter 3. (Francis recognizes a pattern.)

Francis, or Fran, as she is affectionately referred to in the house, noticed that her daddy has developed a certain pattern of behavior over the last few months. She has noticed that about ten minutes, or so, after her mommy leaves to do the daily food shopping, daddy rises from the living room couch, in front of the blaring telly, and goes up into the hallway bathroom, the one with the laundry closet in it; the one where his mother's curtains are laid to rest. He has started to do this almost every day now when mommy is out food shopping. No, not-almost-every day now; but, definitely every day lately.

Chapter 4. (Francis moves to investigate strange noises.)

Wondering what daddy was up to in there: Fran's curiosity piqued by the odd noises echoing down the hallway; the grunting, the howling and all the panting...? She took it upon herself to investigate, and when she was alone in the house, she climbed up on a chair, and scrapped the paint from the corner of the glass fan-light above the bathroom door one afternoon, when nobody was about.

Chapter 5. (Francis put a stop to Richie, her brother, sniffing her farts, and cunt. It wasn't proper anymore.)

Fran has a younger brother, he is some 7 years her younger. She finally had to put her foot down with him in the last year though. Up until then, he was very affectionate with her and loved to cuddle up into her budding breasts, and as she sat on the couch watching telly with the rest of the family, he loved to fall asleep with his head snuggled deep into her lap. Even when she farted silently, he wouldn't move, but sometimes it was very ripe, and he did stir slightly. Fran would giggle, and fart silently all night long, her little brother gasping for air, in her lap. It was rather sexy, she thought. It bonded them together. And it gave her a feeling of power. One night after a huge Sunday dinner, Fran pushed the limit a little too far, and followed through with a fairly large log, that slithered into the gusset of her panties. Richie, her brother woke up with as start, and Fran had to rush off to the bathroom, and throw the turd down the lavatory, and wash her ass. She just folded her panties into the laundry basket for Megan, her mother to do, on wash day.

Chapter 6. (Richie gets a gob full, and sulks when cut off sniffing farts and cunt.))

They had the most enormous skid mark in them, but who would be looking, so she just threw them in there, dried her crotch on the towel, and went back down to watch the telly with the family. Richie snuggled back into her crotch and as the night progressed, her legs got more and more relaxed, and fell open, wider and wider, until Richie's little face was snug up, and tucked tight into her damp vulva: She wasn't wearing any panties at the time, considering the accident with the log earlier on.

He would fall fast asleep, sometimes, and when mom and dad finally went to bed, Fran would hold Richie's, head still between her hands, and rub herself off on him. Using his nose to excite her stiff clitoris. She would come hard on the couch, her legs flying wild apart, up in the air, holding her brothers head steady, using it for her own ends. As she came, she would squirt into his face, and rub it into her pubic hairs to dry him off. Sometimes she would revolve her pelvic region around, until her bung-hole was located on his unconscious lips, and over the tip of his nose. The stimulation of her pooh-pooh hole by the nose, would carry on until it made her open up and let out a very hot silent fart. She would hold him there, and notice the change in his breathing pattern, as he breathed in the thick, methane gas out of her ring. It took a lot of control to meter out the gas evenly, and silently, so that the optimal quantity would be breathed in by her lovely brother. Fran felt it was good for him, so she always let him have it, hot and stinky. Lately though, Fran felt that her brother, was sniffing her pussy with intent, and the last time she came in his sleeping face, she thought she felt his tongue darting in and out of her dripping cunt hole. She wasn't sure if he was totally asleep anymore. And that would be absolutely unacceptable! Why, it would be--perverted! So Fran stopped her brother from sleeping in her lap. He sulked for a whole month.

Fran, though, used her younger brother's toy periscope to watch her daddy with: Peeping through the scratched paint of the bathroom sky-light window; in the corner.

Chapter 7. (Francis discovers her daddy sniffing her panties.)

Fran was shocked, but also flattered, to find daddy was at the laundry in there. Daddy was sniffing. When she saw it she wet her clean panties--the ones he will be sniffing in two more days, no doubt: A self-serving sexual feedback loop of sorts. Fran ran into her bedroom, and locked the door. After she calmed down, she rubbed herself, and came.

Chapter 8. (Francis' curiosity kills the cat.)

The very next day, mommy went shopping again, and a few minutes later, daddy went up into the bathroom, and locked the door behind him. Fran stole up the stairs, missing-out the ones that creaked, and silently entered her bedroom. She pulled her the periscope out from under the bed that she had pinched from her brother's toy box, and made her way quietly to the bathroom door. She could hear the strange noises again coming from inside, out through the door. She raised the periscope up into the corner of the sky-light, and brought its lens to peer through the scratched paint, in the corner of the fan-light window. Francis reluctantly stuck her eye into the into the eyepiece, and ogled the view--she shivered, as what she saw registered upon her sensibilities.

Chapter 9. (Francis equates love making with the internal combustion engine.)

Fran saw that daddy rubs himself-off into her dirty panties, whilst sniffing a second pair too. His bulging purple helmet battering into the sticky goo deposit at the center of her discarded knickers, her vaginal cream spreading over his knob-end, and being forced down into the eye of his cock on the down-stroke, as he bottoms-out on the slack of his foreskin. A further downward stretch opens his urethra's eyelet, like a little goldfish's mouth feeding at the meniscus of its bowl. If the panties are positioned just right, and just enough space is allowed to accommodate the downward travel, then the creamy gusset will be stretched tight over the top of his red knob; just as his little eye blinks open, gobbling minute quantities of Fran's love-tunnel deposit. Exactly as it would if he were having intercourse with her: When, on the in-stroke, as her vaginal muscles clamp tight around his throbbing shaft, and he runs out of foreskin, his little gold-fish mouth opens just as it batters into her weeping cervix. The juice from inside her womb, having been sucked out through the cervix, by the pumping, and piston action of his massive thrusting cock, fills up the top of her vaginal tunnel, whereby on his next deep thrust, the thick, viscous, pungent womb syrup, laced with estrogen, is forced deep down his urethra, by the combined events of his rock-hard plunger, thrusting forward, compressing the fluid high up in her tunnel, whilst simultaneously running out of foreskin, as she grips his shaft tight with her vulva muscles, pulling the eye open, injecting her brew, all the way down its center shaft's tube, basically force-feeding him directly from the womb with hot a potent estrogen brew, via the urethra tube of his gulping proboscis. Bathing his balls, in her peaceful elixir, nullifying the inherent violence of his own testosterone poisoning. Putty in her hands he becomes, as calm as a little lamb, as faithful as a puppy-dog, as she feeds him more of her concoction, holding him by the ears, as he obediently laps and ingests more and more of her chemicals and hormones directly from her driveling cunt.

Chapter 10. (Francis is awed by the size of her daddy's cock.)

Fran could hardly believe how big daddy is between the legs. No wonder she used to hear mommy screaming and moaning late into the night, something about her ass-hole was going to split into two, and her constant pleading that he not take it out just yet, or she would follow through and shit all over him. Then she would hear daddy moaning and complaining and calling her a bitch, and for her to get some paper towels. And mommy fighting back telling him that that thing is too big for anyone's ass-hole, and that if he can't handle her shit, then he should stay out of her ass altogether!

Now, finally Fran understood! She saw daddy, sitting there on the pan, with that fearful, wonderful--thing--arcing out from between his hairy center. A strident 14 measures long, to the inch, at least, and the head---a wonton, bulbous, 4 sexual parsecs in diameter at the hood! It looked like a baby's arm holding a large hothouse tomato in its tiny grip.

Chapter 11.

Apparently, daddy was seen to be frantically polishing the rigid shaft of his manhood, by his devoted daughter, Francis, and the polishing rag used; that of her panties, draped over it, like a veil over a coffin of a stiff dignitary, with a second pair of her stinky knickers pulled over his head, sniffing at her creamy gusset that she laid-down specifically with him in mind--Fran always wears her panties for three days, just for her daddy--and looking through the leg-holes, down at the open magazine on the floor, between his legs, he starts to writhe around on the toilet seat. Fran knows then that he is about to come. Her panties are being blown out, then alternately sucked in, as her daddy gasps for air, then he groans, and stiffens rigid; shudders and shakes, and fills the gusset of her panties to the brim with his cream. On a few occasions, he has burst clean through the fabric of her knickers with his rod, and Fran is amazed to see spurt after spurt of thick, white, cream shoot high up into the air, in a perfect arc, that lands halfway across the bathroom. The first two or three shots go the furthest, usually hitting the shower curtain, and the subsequent loads diminishing in both height and distance. After the last few puny loads of cream spill out of her daddy, driveling down his softening shaft, over Fran's wrecked panties, and dripping off his clenched hand, he slumps back on the pan, blowing and grunting the panties inflating and deflating slower and slower, as the orgasmic rush leaves him. When this happens Fran tip-toes back to her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her, hiding the periscope under her bed, and lays on the bed, pretending to read. She can hear her daddy trying to clean up the semen with what sounds like handfuls of toilet tissue. When he has finished Fran creeps into the bathroom. She always finds at least one load that her daddy missed, and scoops it up with her fingers for him, and sucks them clean. Fran has never seen such a huge long cock, and her daddy's balls are enormous. She usually keeps count of how many loads he shoots out. Twelve is the record, but that was because mommy didn't go shopping for three days last month, his little ball-sack must have been bursting with come. If Fran looks in the trash later, she invariably will find her torn panties stuffed in the bottom of a tin can, with a ball of toilet tissue rammed on top for camouflage, and the lid folded back down over it. Fran's daddy is very crafty and careful, but he can't fool Fran. Fran's mother is always puzzled and perplexed on laundry days, when one of Fran's panties goes missing, and she questions Fran about it, but what can she say? She just shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head, and Megan, her mother, looks at her with squinted eyes and says,

"I just hope you are not doing anything that you shouldn't be doing down there at the college! I don't like this new crowd you're hanging out with lately."

I say, "Oh...mom, don't be silly. They're just friends, that's all."

Daddy hides behind his paper.

Daddy is still quite limber, and lately, if he happens to break through my gusset with his over zealous pumping, he has taken to tearing the panties off his head, and grabbing his head at the back and pulling it down hard. Daddy is so long that her can get the entire head of his purple, magenta helmet all the way in his mouth, and I can see his balls dancing up and down in their sack, as he unloads into his mouth, rubbing his pulsating shaft furiously, and pulling his head up and down in a bobbing motion. I can hear him swallowing his hot, creamy loads, one after another, and see his Adam's apple, going up and down in unison with his balls. Sometimes he can't swallow fast enough and the thick, creamy syrup squirts out of the corners of his mouth, and sometimes he's not fast enough, getting his cock-head into his mouth, and the first shot, goes straight up his nose, or into his eye, or right over his head altogether and lands in his hair or down his back.

Most times though, daddy , is more careful, and just fills my panties with his loads, then wipes his knob end and throws the panties back in the laundry bin, covering them over with a handful of clothes, and he's done for the day, and saunters off back to the coach to watch the telly.

I sneak into the bathroom and rummage through the laundry until I find the panties that daddy used to unload into, and I run back to my room and lock the door.

I open them up slowly, and find a huge load of Thick, white creamy goo filling my knickers. If I am quick enough, the sperm hasn't liquefied yet, and is still the consistency of whipped cream, or cold custard.

I pull my panties off, and get my vibrator out from my locked trinket box under my bed, and dive onto the bed. I build up the pillows behind me, and pull my legs up over my shoulders, threading my arms and upper body through my open legs. I push my feet through the rungs of the headboard behing me, and lock my ankles there. Then I dip my vibrator into daddy's cream and do both my holes using daddy's thick white treacle as lube. Some times I push the loaded gusset all the way into my love-tunnel, and some of it into my bung-hole with the pointy end of my vibrator, then I buzz my clitoris, licking the end of my vibrator, every few seconds until I come.

Sometimes I leave my panties stuffed into my holes for hours, and almost come at the dinner table just knowing that daddy's come is being eaten by my vagina and ass-hole, right there in front of mommy. I love that.

After dinner, I excuse my self to the bathroom, and pull the panties out of my holes. They are very smelly and wet, but most of daddy's come is now inside me. I hide my panties deep down in the laundry basket, to dry out before mommy does the wash.

My period came very late last month. I thought I was pregnant. Daddy would have to divorce mommy, of course, if I was, and marry me. I would make him do it! I know he secretly wants to. I would be a loving wife to my daddy. And he wouldn't need that magazine any longer, and he wouldn't have to sneak into the bathroom and rub his cock on my panties like that while mommy is out shopping everyday, and he wouldn't have to suck his own rod, and swallow his own come. I would do all of that for daddy. I would love to do that for him.

Chapter 12.(Francis is suspected by her fastidious mother, Megan, of shamelessly gallivanting with men, and carousing with those floozies of hers that she calls--friends.)

Megan first became suspicious of her daughter's possible goings'-on when she noticed something out of the ordinary whilst doing the weekly wash. Francis had started hanging out with a new crowd at college, and Megan sensed something in her demeanor of late that piqued her motherly sense of alarm. It was difficult to put one's finger on it exactly, but Francis seemed to exude a suppression of--guilt, hidden beneath a happy-go-lucky outer facade.

Chapter 13.

Megan turned her daughter's skimpy little soiled panties inside-out for the washing: She noticed two heavy stains in the gusset. They were dried beige-colored crystalline deposits encrusting a softer gooey middle. One was centered about where her daughter's love-tunnel rests throughout the day, and the other sat a few inches back toward the rear of there; where her pooh-hole resides.

Chapter 14.

Megan sniffed and tasted the gummy, crusted, deposits. Alarm bells went off in her head! She knew the taste of dried come from old a mile away. She sniffed deeply of the panties, and to be sure she rubbed the gooey center over the taste-buds at the back of her tongue, swilling the sample around her pallet like a wine taster, and sniffing and snorting the scent from her daughter's reconstituted drippings.

During the swallowing, Megan confidently detected a concentrated admixture of men's semen mixed in with Francis' love-cave-cream, and bung-hole-mud. Megan had blown enough cock, and licked more gash than anyone she knew during her college days, and just for old-times-sake, she adroitly turned the washer-dial-knob around to the spin-cycle setting, whilst reaching under her short skirt at the same time.

Megan is expert at raking her panty-gusset over her Mount-of-Venus, at a moment's notice, latching it down into the cleft between her vulva and thigh: Securing it--out of the way--readying her vent for-action, and it got plenty of action in her time, believe me: Tucking the damp, sticky, fabric safely into her pungent groin.

Megan, lost in olfactory nostalgia, lifted her open vulva up onto the corner of the cool, oscillating, machine--and came hard sucking the remnant stains out of the tiny panties: She needed to be absolutely sure of her findings before taking action...!

Chapter 15.

Megan sucked her daughter's gusset clean before she slithered off the corner of the washer, falling back against the wall of the laundry room, panting and groaning and sucking hard on her rigid, red, hot nipples, as she tore her blouse open yanking her bra up around her neck, and roughly hiking two overflowing handfuls of ample breast high-up off her chest, and inserting their teats into her mouth. She sucked and bit on the stiff deep-brown nipples, and lurched forward once again locating her clitoris back up onto the violently wobbling machine: The corner of it--pushed as far as she could manage into her gaping, dripping, love-hole. She came again, almost instantly, and this time her feet actually left the ground, and with perfect balance, an gripping the sides of the vibrating washer with her powerful thighs, she pivoted, humping wildly, with the corner of the machine fucking her hole relentlessly. This time she came long and intense, and pissed everywhere. Megan's husband, called down the stairs into the basement wondering what all the noise was about? Megan gathered enough composure to answer back that she was just singing as she did the laundry, her hubby grunted and told her to keep it down, her couldn't here the T.V. with all the racket! Megan slid off the corner of the washer, and fell backward into the pile of dirty laundry, biting her nipples hard, and squirting golden piss up into the air, as wave after wave of thundering orgasm rocketed through her quaking body: Megan composed herself once more and hollered in a calm, and convivial voice: