Asstr Viagra

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Asstr Viagra
This story is the sole property of the author. It may be downloaded for private use, but may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites without the author's permission.
Story Intro:
Moving into a new house can be stressful, but when you have a cute young neighbour to help with the move it can be fun in more ways than one.
Cast of characters:
Me (Ben) = author, age 32, brown hair, hazel eyes.
Tracy = my new neighbour, age 7, light blond hair, green eyes, pixie face.
[This house is perfect.] I thought as I looked around. The house had three bedrooms, the smallest one would fit all of my computer equipment, the largest would be my bedroom and the middle would be big enough to accommodate my ever-increasing library of books.
Outside, through the front windows, I could see a selection of young children, mostly girls I was happy to note, playing in the street. I made the usual non-committal comments about the place, took one final look around then left. Shortly after reaching my apartment I put in an offer for the full asking price, six weeks later they had moved out and I could move in.

Mf13, fath/dau, inc, 1st, cons & nc
Driven by an intense desire, a remarkably intelligent daughter resorts to drastic measures to get what she wants more than anything - her father.
The private, unpaved gravel road curled and undulated, ending at a circular cul-de-sac just short of Skeleton Lake, a five mile body of water formed from the impact of a galactic traveler, a meteorite that had slammed into earth 800 million years ago. Ice Age glaciers had ground down the crater to its current depth of one hundred metres.
Three long, rutted drives bled off the end of the cul-de-sac, one to the right, one to the left, and one straight ahead, all disappearing through close-packed silver birches, maples and pines that formed branch-covered tunnels, darkening as the sun slipped towards the horizon. Down the right drive, two hundred yards in, sat a log cottage, steep roofed with shingles to slough-off the weight of winter snow, a tall thick brick chimney at one side, and large overhanging eave. It had small wood-framed windows, two to the left, one to the right, and a railed veranda that circled the cottage. The door bore a hand carved Canadian flag, the Maple Leaf embossed into solid wood. To the right of the door, a brightly painted boot brush carved like a Loon rested on the veranda looking serene. Bright red geraniums cascaded from planters on the railings. If the cottage was smaller, it might be considered quaint. Instead, it appeared large and rustic.
At the back, the veranda swept out into a large deck, a propane bar-b-que to the side and three broad steps led down to a footpath that wended across rocky moss-covered ground to a boathouse. The boathouse sat jutting into a placid lake, sporting a flat roof for sunbathing, chaise lounges sitting haphazardly here and there. In the early evening it was quiet, the silence broken occasionally by the rumble of a slowly passing motorboat, the slap of tiny waves against the rocky shore, or the lonely cry of a Loon. Blue-green lake water was nearing the glass-like stage of evening, only ripples left. Black flies and mosquitoes buzzed as they hunted for prey, although, now at the end of their season, their numbers were drastically reduced.
To all intents and purposes, it looked like many other cottages on the lake. But in this one, in this rustic cottage, events were about to take place that were unlike those in the other cottages. In this one, careful plans were about to unfold. Two lives would be irreversibly altered. In this rustic log cottage, on this night, a most unusual rape was about to take place.
The genesis of what was about to happen started long ago, seven years ago.
It started with love, the pure love of a father for a daughter, an emotional attachment only possible between fathers and daughters. It was a closeness strengthened by Jim's frustrations with a wife becoming distant, increasingly frigid, increasingly occupied with social activities, in fact, any activity as long as it wasn't at home.
It started with Jim seeking company and finding it in his six year old daughter's bedroom, finding solace from being with Jasmine. It started from the deep bond that formed between a daughter and a father, both ignored and psychologically abandoned by a mother.
The genesis of what was about to occur started seven years ago.
JASMINE STOOD IN THE cottage's kitchen, hand paused. She was debating, a clear frown drawing blond eyebrows together, sapphire eyes intent. She nodded to herself, decision made, and picked up both drinks; a Coke for her and a glass of Sleeman Silver Creek Lager for Dad. Turning, she walked through the sliding glass door onto the deck, walking over to where he sat in a low pine-green painted Muskoka wood chair.
"Here, Dad." She handed him his beer and sat in the chair next to him, angled slightly so she could look out over the lake and watch her father at the same time.
"Thanks sweetheart. It sure is peaceful."
Jasmine studied her father. She noted the slight grey appearing at his temples, almost unnoticeable with his blond hair, cut short for convenience not style. She looked at the off-centre dimple on his chin, a lasting gift from a hockey puck. His face was still slender without an ounce of fat, a ruler-straight nose, thick eyebrows that shaded intense, penetrating blue eyes, and a wide mouth that curved naturally into a smile. Laid back in the chair with his legs out and ankles crossed she could see how slender and wiry he was, the result of a lifetime of marathon competitions. He'd probably been exactly the same at twenty, she thought.
Jasmine could feel her love like a physical presence inside her. It was there, a tight ball inside her chest; a ball that could inflate to fill her with joy, or squeeze into a piece of lead, weighing her down. She couldn't remember not loving Dad.
She watched him take a sip of his beer, the glass frosted with condensation. She watched him swallow, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing up and down. She watched his slender, muscular arm lower to rest on the broad arm of the chair. He looked relaxed. She was glad he'd agreed to spend a week here. She knew Mom wouldn't join them, expressing distain for the cottage, annoying bugs, for being too quiet, too isolated, and the lack of social activities.
A shadow of doubt passed through her mind making her pause as she brought the Coke to her lips. It passed and she took a sip, letting her mind conjure up the rationalisations she'd built. She loved Dad. It had always been that way, but the earliest memory of her awareness was seven years ago and her love had grown and evolved ever since. Jasmine's mind drifted back.
"Will you read to me Daddy?" she asked. Mom had told her she was too old for bedtime stories, and given her a frown of disapproval as well. She was beginning not to like Mom, even though she loved her. Daddy's smile made her heart thump. She loved Daddy. He always listened to her.
"Sure, Jaz. What would you like me to read?"
She pulled The Cat in the Hat from under the covers. She'd been planning to read it after saying goodnight. "Here, Daddy. Read this."
She sat up quickly and waited for him to sit next to her, then pulled his arm around her, snuggled close with her head against his chest, face turned up with her eyes riveted to his face. She knew the book by heart. It wasn't the story she wanted to hear, she wanted to watch Daddy's face as he read. She sighed as he started, inhaling Daddy's smell deep, a smile curling her red lips, eyes studying his animated face. This was her favorite time of the day.
She sighed again when Daddy kissed her cheek goodnight and told her he loved her. "Night Daddy, love you too."
Cuddled under the covers, she decided she loved Daddy more than Mom. As long as she had Daddy, she didn't care about Mom.
Playing soccer, Daddy standing on the sidelines pointing at her and telling everyone around him loudly, "That's my daughter," when she scored a lucky goal. The way he beamed in pleasure and pride made her heart thump. The love shining in his eyes when he looked at her made her stop and stare as she was running back down the field; so intense. His tight hug at the end of the game, sweeping her up, nestling his face to her neck whispering, "I'm so proud of you Jaz," made her heart hurt. She loved Daddy.
Waking up slowly, Dad's arms holding her and the strange smell of a hotel room mixed with Dad's smell. Dad had taken her to one of his marathons, a double marathon; Mom gone on a trip with her girl friends. The room was tiny, all that was available, just one bed. Dad had been so embarrassed when they found out they'd have to share. After she'd overcome her embarrassment of having to share a bed, she'd felt a small spark of pleasure inside, wondering what it would be like to share a bed with someone. The small spark grew into a warm feeling when she pictured herself sleeping with Dad.
It had been the first time. Waking in his arms, she lay as still as possible so he wouldn't wake up. Her face was close to his chest, his musky scent filling her nostrils. The first spark happened when she realized her knee was between Dad's legs, her pussy nestled to his hard thigh. The spark hit her in her pussy and intensified when she felt his erection inside his underwear pushing against her tummy.
At first confused, she slowly explored the feeling, pressing her tummy against it slightly, feeling its tip push into her. Dad with an erection; how interesting. She had wondered what an erection was like. It felt hard but soft pushing at her. She extracted herself carefully and went to the bathroom, mind abuzz. When she sat on the toilet she saw the wet spot in her panties. Suddenly she was conscious of her arousal, her pussy tingling as she peed. She replayed the feel of Dad's erection pushed against her, his scent, his arms holding her.
Wiping herself, a pulse of pleasure hit her. Sitting on the toilet, legs parted, she looked between her spread legs and touched herself, let the familiar tingles grow, arousal build. She caressed her little clit, a hard bead, thinking of Dad's erection pressed against her, so hard, big, and mysterious. Her climax hit suddenly, shaking her body, pleasure filling her. It had been the first time she'd climaxed to thoughts of Dad, but not the last.
It was the first touch. Mom was out for the evening again leaving her and Dad at home alone. She liked it that way, Dad to herself. Sitting side by side on the couch, cuddled against Dad, they watched Titanic, again. She loved the romance, dreaming of her and Dad together, a frequent dream. Ever since the trip, she'd replayed that morning, caressing herself, pleasuring herself to the memory of Dad's erection pushing against her tummy, dreaming of maybe touching it, holding it. She'd imagine Dad touching her, kissing her, and she'd climax every time.
With her emotions stirred by the romantic movie, memories of Dad holding her in his arm, and the feel of his erection poking her in the stomach, she moved her hand from his thigh to rest on his chest, looking up at him.
"Are you sure you don't mind watching this again?" she asked.
She rubbed his chest gently. "Thanks. Love you, Dad." His smile sent shivers through her, the love in his blue eyes so clear. My Dad, I love him.
"Love you too, Jaz," he responded, hugging her slightly.
Her hand returned to his thigh, slightly higher.
She pointed to the screen. "Was the Titanic really that big?" She lay her hand back on his thigh, slightly higher.
"At the time it was the largest. Unsinkable they claimed. Just goes to show you, don't tempt fate."
Five minutes later she pointed, "Why did it have four smoke stacks?"
A surge of arousal pulsed through her pussy when she let her hand fall gently, this time resting it on the side of Dad's crotch.
Jasmine closed her eyes slowly, pleasure and excitement flooding her when she felt Dad's large penis move, just a twitch. She said nothing when he gently moved her hand back down his thigh. It was her first touch; the first time she touched Dad's penis.
That night, laying in bed with no panties on, she masturbated, fingers sliding through her slit, pushing at her vagina then diddling her sensitive clit to the memory of touching Dad's penis, feeling it move; Dad getting an erection. She rubbed her aching tiny boobs under her Tee.
Her hand on her pussy became more insistent, rubbing her clit hard, slipping down, pushing gently at her vagina. Dad got an erection from her touch! Need to cum, need to cum. Hips undulating, dreaming of her and Dad, of maybe holding his erection, Dad kissing her, hugging her, oh, Dad telling her he loved her, she climaxed, her hips heaving off the mattress suddenly with the force of her orgasm. She cried out when her finger penetrated her vagina, the jab of pain shocking her as her hymen tore. She was shaking when Dad rushed into her room, a look of concern etched on his handsome face.
With embarrassment and her climax making her face flush hot, and the feel of blood slipping between her buttocks, she reassured Dad. "Sorry, I thought I saw a spider but it was just a shadow."
Dad kissed her sweaty brow. "Okay sweetheart. Sleep well. I love you."
"Dad? Can I go to the movies tonight with Rachael? Her mom's going to be with us," she yelled over the sound of his shower, strolling into the bathroom. She'd planned it purposefully, waiting until he showered after work. Standing inside the door she examined Dad through the clear glass shower walls, admiring his slim body, his tight butt.
The heat that flushed through her groin when he turned felt marvellous. Dad's penis was flaccid and smallish, but she remembered feeling it erect pushing against her tummy. She wished she could see it grow, see how big it would be, how hard. What would it feel like to hold it or stroke it? What would it look like when he ejaculates?
Suddenly she needed to relieve the pressure inside, feeling horny. Stepping back through the door she peeked in to watch Dad wash. He hadn't heard her yell. Popping open the button on her jeans and pulling the zipper down to give her room, she slipped her hand inside and under her panties. Spreading her legs slightly to give her hand room, she cupped her pussy feeling the new pubic hair that had recently appeared, staring at Dad's penis, imagining it erect. She burrowed into her crotch seeking the slippery moisture she could feel dampening her panties. Drawing it up, she caressed her hard clit, staring at Dad's penis, watching it move, wondering what it might feel like when it was hard, pressing along her cleft, rubbing her clit.
Breathing harder, she let her slippery finger probe down, curling it, pushing into the silky warmth of her vagina, hips hunched forward. She wondered what it would feel like to hold and kiss it, maybe take it into her mouth, suck it. She wondered how good it would feel to be stretched by Dad's erection. A second finger joined the first, stretching her, feeling how tight she was, imagining it was Dad's erection pushing up into her. Another thrill hit her when she watched Dad washing his penis and balls, wishing it was her hand washing him, arousing him, making him erect, caressing and fondling Dad. Oh, good.
Sliding her fingers in and out, imagining it was Dad's erection stroking into her, her orgasm stirred, heaviness in her groin, vagina stretched, feeling good, feeling good. She wanted Dad. She wanted Dad to make love to her, to feel him inside her. Hair shaking, fingers thrusting, she knew she wanted Dad as a lover, Dad kissing her, Dad caressing her, Dad whispering how much he wants her, Dad whispering how much he needs her, oh God Dad! Cumming! Cumming!
It had been so good, she'd repeated it whenever she could, peeking in on Dad taking a shower and masturbating.
Eleven weeks ago. Mom and Dad had moved into separate bedrooms.
It had become an obsession. The decision made. Dad didn't understand. He needed a woman and he loved her, she loved him. He needed companionship, to be loved and appreciated. He deserved to be happy and she would make him happy. He needed her.
Taking every opportunity she could, she'd hugged Dad, pressing her new boobs into him, rubbing her aching nipples against him. She would push her crotch against his thigh trying to stimulate herself; give him hints that, unlike Mom, she was willing to love him. She told him she loved him. She tried to let him know she wanted him, that they were right for each other, fated to be together. But, despite everything, he wasn't getting the message.
Then came the last straw. Dad had gently pushed her away when she was hugging him and rubbing herself slowly against his front, seeing if she could get him interested, excited, aroused. And she had! She'd felt a movement in his crotch, the beginning of an erection. But just as it was getting interesting he'd pushed her away from him gently. "No, Jasmine, don't do that," he'd said softly with a gentle smile.
It wasn't right! He wanted her. He must, otherwise why would he get excited? The love in his eyes, the adoration he showed, and his constant attention was proof of his desire. And she wanted Dad, badly. She wanted Dad to make love to her just like in all her dreams. Well, if Dad was afraid of the whole incest thing, she'd have to help him get over that stumbling block. She'd find a way. This was true love.
The sound of Loons calling and echoing across the lake brought her out of her reverie. She saw Dad take the last sip of his beer, foam sliding down the inside of the glass. Sitting quietly Jasmine kept an eye on him, waiting. It was wrong. She knew it. But Dad didn't seem to understand it was meant to be. In her heart of hearts she knew he wanted her and she knew she had to have Dad or she'd die from heart ache. She understood his reluctance to accept what they felt, the taboo of incest. She knew he thought she was too young, but she wasn't and she'd prove it. She wondered how the Gamma-Hydroxybutyrate would affect him, hoping she'd calculated the dose right. It had taken a lot of research to figure it out.
Jasmine shuddered in disgust remembering Larry, the twenty-something guy she'd bought it from, agreeing to give him a kiss and let him fondle her tits over her shirt. It was horrible feeling his slimy tongue shoving into her mouth and he was rough, squeezing her small boobs until they hurt. Boy he was stupid though. He really thought it was to get her nerd virgin boyfriend in bed. But it had been worth it. She got what she needed.
She felt arousal stir inside her wondering how long it would take for the Viagra pill, the one she'd ground up and dissolved in his beer with the GHB, to take effect. She wondered how big Dad's erection would be and, with little pulses of arousal, how it would feel to have Dad's erection inside her. This time Dad would not have a choice. This time she was going to get what she wanted, what he needed, show him it was their destiny to be together. He would not be able to refuse her. He loved her. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, she just knew.
SIPPING MY BEER AND enjoying the peacefulness that can only be found at our cottage, the feeling of having shed civilization, dropped business pressures, and left the complexities of my life behind, I felt relaxation seep through my body. It actually felt like I was physically changing, muscles becoming jelly-like.
I enjoyed the quiet company of Jaz next to me. Looking across at her I wondered what she was thinking. She had a faraway look in her sapphire eyes. God I loved my daughter. I could feel my love as a physical warmth slowly mushrooming inside me. Jaz was, in my eyes, the prettiest girl on the planet; my daughter. I was so lucky to have her.
Studying her, I marvelled at how she had grown i
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