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| Illegal Incest Porn | Free Incest Pics Of Grandparents | Free Erotic Xxx Incest Stories | Incest Pictures Teen Rape |
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Part 1. “Isabelle, if you wouldn’t mind staying behind just now, only for a few minutes, I’d like to have a word with you.” “I’ll-I’ll be late for Chemistry, Mr McCarthy.” “Oh, don’t you worry about that. I informed your Chemistry teacher that you would not be attending the lesson for reasons, unavoidable.” The last of the student chatter faded away into the distant corridors, the classroom door slammed shut with a hollow thud, leaving her utterly alone with Mr McCarthy. “Isabelle, you look worried. In fact I’ve noticed you always look worried. Don’t be. I’d like you to pull up a seat next to my desk.” She studied Mr McCarthy’s face intently, for clues on what this could all be about. It was not in Isabelle’s nature to question. He was a man in his late forties, stout and reasonably small though still taller than her. He stroked his greying goatee and motioned for her to comply. She obeyed immediately and sat down on a nearby chair. “The truth is Isabelle, I’m quite concerned about you. Your grades have been consistently falling. You’re a very quiet student Isabelle. You never ever speak unless your spoken to. I’d like to think that you could tell me if something was the matter.” Isabelle stared at the scattered papers and chewed pens that was sprawled across his desk. “Is there anything the matter Isabelle?” “No sir,” she said quietly, barely moving her lips. “You know Isabelle, I notice you. Not just in my class but around school. You haven’t got any friends have you? You don’t have a boyfriend, do you Isabelle? A beautiful young woman like you, its just not right. They’re all to immature for you aren’t they?” Isabelle remained silent, though her gaze had abruptly lifted to Mr McCarthy’s face. “I’d like to help you Isabelle. Would you like me to help you?” With that he stood up and walked around his desk, Isabelle kept her eyes on him as he moved. Noticing how he held his shoulders far, far back to improve his height and stature, only to accentuate his bulging stomach beneath his suit. He stopped and knelt down beside her, his right hand began to stroke her hair. She closed her eyes and stiffened every muscle in her body. Her mouth opened slightly but no sound came out. “Don’t fight it Isabelle. I told you. I just want to help you.” Still stroking her hair with one hand he placed the other on her lap and began to slowly draw circles into her thigh. “You’ll like it Isabelle.” His hand edged its way up her skirt the higher it explored, the more violent she quivered. Isabelle’s bottom lip was shaking uncontrollably. His hand reached the place in between her legs. She exploded in a maelstrom of emotion. “NNNNOOOOOOO, GET AWAY!” Her eyes still tightly shut she flailed her arms at her attacker and fell backwards out of the chair sliding across the tiled floor. Mr McCarthy, losing his balance during the brief fray also fell backwards, grasping at desk legs in order to get to his feet as quickly as possible. “ISABELLE!” He gasped, his face contorting in anger. She scrambled frantically to get to her feet and upon doing so bolted straight for the door, tears streaming down her cheeks. She fled out into the empty corridor and to safety. Mr McCarthy stood up, still looking at the door, where he had last seen the fleeing Isabelle moments before. He smashed his fist on a desk. “FUCK.” ******************************* She had been lying on top of her bed for the last hour, her eyes tightly shut, and her head a torrent of emotion from the days events. Isabelle was resting on her front as her legs kicked almost involuntary into the air as she thought. She had stripped to her under garments and wore a pair of pink cotton panties and a matching tight pink vest that finished at her midriff. Sighing gently she opened her eyes and became aware that she had been lying in total darkness for some while. Isabelle slid gently off the side of the bed and landed silently on her bare feet. She switched the small lamp on next to her bed and drew the curtains. Why is existing so hard? As she turned away from the curtains she noticed her reflection in the full length mirror on the opposite side of the room. As she stepped towards her reflection she could see shadows playfully sliding in and out of the contours of her body in motion. Moving towards the mirror she began looking at herself from head to toe as if seeing herself, truly, for the first time. Isabelle stood still now, close enough to see her reflection clearly, through the modest light of her bedside lamp. She looked into her large, dark brown eyes and wondered in vain what people saw when they looked into them (when she rarely did make eye contact with another person other than her father.) A rebellious wave of her choppy black hair flopped down over her face, partially concealing her left eye. She replaced it back behind her ear running her hand through her hair for it to return to a similar position moments later. Isabelle’s hair finished two inches above her shoulders and was of a striking, naturally shiny crow-black. Her hair perfectly framed her youthful, feminine face, only her dark oval eyes, beautiful seas of sadness betrayed her true feelings of despair. Her gaze lowered down her body-her long neck slid down to greet her small round shoulders which set the trend for her petite, perfectly proportioned frame. Isabelle’s eyes stopped travelling down at her breasts. She could see her nipples through the thin, pink cotton of her tight fitting vest. Isabelle placed her cold hands at the top of each leg and began slowly sliding them up her body. She had not once taken her eyes off the mirror. When her hands left her supple skin and met the cotton she peeled her fingers underneath the material and bit by bit slid the vest up her body and over her head. The pink top dropped silently to the floor beside her. Isabelle looked at the top half of her naked body. Her breast were large but not vast. They appeared all the more significant due to her lithe, petite frame but were certainly not over sized. Isabelle’s thoughts again returned to today’s earlier situation replaying it for the thousandth time in her head. She felt angry and confused but no sign of this was present in the mirror. Only the sadness. She returned her conscious gaze to the mirror, trying to repress the tirade of thoughts in her head. The dim light only accentuated the perfect, smooth curve of her hips from her narrow waist. She stood at 5 3” her slim, toned legs were remarkably long and slender for her height giving her a graceful beauty not common among girls of Isabelle’s height. She rested a hand on the thin cloth of the front of her panties. Her eyes left the mirror and looked down at her real body. She quickly slid her panties down her legs and kicked them gently off her ankles. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her full lips. She looked intently into the mirror once again, this time at her fully naked body, wrapped only in the occasional shadow playfully exploring her figure as she turned and swayed, exploring her own body with her eyes and hands. Isabelle slid her hands gently from one side of her body to another, running them sensuously down her sides. Standing side on in front of the mirror now, she cupped her breast firmly and then removed a hand to follow the contour of her lower back down to the flawlessly smooth curve and surface of her buttocks. Turning again to face herself front-on, she guided her hands to her belly button and carefully descended until the tips of her fingers reached the lips of her shaven sex. Almost immediately a wave of heat erupted from her centre and rippled through her body like a shock wave. Isabelle let out the slightest of gasps before dropping her hands down to her sides without reluctance. She welcomed the salty taste of her tears like an old, familiar friend, one that was never judgemental or critical of her. This friend was never particularly comforting but at least made frequent visits. Isabelle began to wipe away the stream of tears that had trailed down from her eyes like a waterfall over her high cheek bones, when the door opened and her father stepped into the room. Isabelle recovered in a second from the moment of initial alarm. The sound of the door opening, the first real sound she had heard since entering her room, late in the afternoon. Isabelle made no attempt to cover up her exposed body but simply stood there, her enormous eyes looking up at her father for him to say something. Anything. Just as his daughter made no attempt to cover up her body, he made no attempt to avert his gaze to the wall or floor. He looked at her body, once, upon immediately entering the room but then settled on her eyes. It was his voice that broke the deafening silence. “W-why didn’t you tell me this morning. I’m so sorry I forgot. I only remembered, just now. I promise I’ll make it up to you next year, Isabelle.” Isabelle remained silent. She was still standing in front of her mirror, her underwear on the floor beside her feet. “I love you. You know that right?,” he said. She smiled with her lips sealed, as another tear tricked down her cheek. “For what its worth…happy Seventeenth birthday, Isabelle.“ He turned to leave her room, his hand on the door handle. It stayed there, frozen for several moments. “Oh, and sweetheart…why are you crying?” He asked casually, still facing the door. “No reason.” *************************** Unremitting and cold, the electronic drone of the alarm clock penetrated Isabelle’s nightmares before dragging her, harshly into the real world. She awoke with a sharp gasp and sat straight up as if she had been submerged in water or finally freed from heavy restraints. Isabelle switched the alarm off and positioned herself on the side of the bed. 07:45 She rubbed her bare feet into the carpet vigorously while she sat, her hands massaging her folded arms. At least I don’t have Mr McCarthy today. And at least its Friday. Optimism. With that she lifted herself off the bed and bent towards a chest of drawers, digging out a vest and panties to cover her nudity. After showering and getting dressed, Isabelle made her way downstairs. Her father was busy washing plates in the sink, his back to the open door. He gave no indication that he had heard Isabelle coming down the stairs and into the kitchen, even as Isabelle paused in the doorway watching him carefully return a plate back to the cupboard, he remained oblivious. After a moment or two, Isabelle stepped into the kitchen, purposely emphasising the noise of her steps. “Oh, morning Isabelle.” “Morning daddy.” Her soft voice, a recognisable whisper. She walked up to his side placing a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I should have done these last night…I wasn’t feeling-” “-very well.” He finished. “Right.” She said, after an uncomfortable pause as she looked down at the sea of soapy bubbles expanding in the sink. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart. it’s the least I can do.” He turned his head and smiled down at her, she returned it with her own genuine smile. At that instant he became overwhelmed by the astonishing beauty of his daughter, just seeing her commit the simplest of human gestures. A smile. Perhaps it was because such a thing was a precious rarity upon Isabelle’s face (almost as rare on his own) or perhaps it was because through the glorious simplicity of a smile, he had noticed how beautifully radiant she really was. She wrapped her arms round him and buried one side of her face into his chest. He placed his hands round her gently, enveloping her in bodily warmth like she wanted. His voice was low and comforting-”Isabelle, things have been pretty hard lately.” Her head and body attempted to wriggle closer into him, he responded by using his arms to press her, warm, petite form, into his, strengthening their embrace. He continued, slowly- “It takes time, to heal. The nastiest wounds are those which you can’t always see…and these wounds of ours are bleeding pretty bad. But people can‘t always see that.” Isabelle nodded slowly, rubbing her cheek against his upper body. “I guess you’d better get to school.” Her father said with another smile. “Hey!” Almost instantaneously a flood of adrenaline pulsated through her veins. Isabelle knew he was shouting at her, she could see him strutting ever closer through the corner of her eye. She felt as if her heart had risen up to her throat and was choking her to death. “Hey you! Yeah you bitch! Don’t act like I’m not talking to you!” He was still half way down the corridor, viscously shoulder barging those who innocently got in his way. Isabelle rested her forehead against her locker in despair. As she closed her eyes she heard an assortment of papers drop and scatter at her feet. Opening her eyes she realised that she’d dropped her English folder. Pages and pages of notes had fluttered across the floor. Isabelle winced as if suffering from a sharp physical pain. Upon bending down to pick up the now almost empty folder, the item was kicked furiously from under her fingertips. The folder slid almost frictionless down the corridor until it invaded a sea of feet and was crushed beyond repair. “Hey Izzy! Did you fuckin’ forget something baby? Because I think you did.” Isabelle looked up at Jimmy, the typical high school jock. Tall, broad, clean shaven with a cropped dark hair. His only distinguishing physical feature that segregated him from the other popular, faceless, clones, was an unusual set of eyes. His left eye was the palest of blue while his right was a hazel brown. Both were piercing down at Isabelle as if she were an abomination. Isabelle stood up shakily, rummaging through her mind for the right thing to say. “I-I-I didn’t have time to finish it. I-I completely forgot…I was…There was…I’m s-sorry.” “I waited for you outside this morning, Izzy,” His voice now deadly quiet. “I told you I’d keep all those other faggots from hassling you. Do it out the good of my heart. All you had to do was a couple of my History and English assignments. But you couldn’t even do that!” He prodded her shoulder hard forcing her back against the locker as he finished speaking. Passers-by had radically thinned out, the lesson bell had rang and in moments they were completely alone. “So Izzy, what the fuck are you gonna do about this?” She looked down at her feet, wanting nothing more in the world but to shrink and shrink and become even more invisible then she already was. “Bitch, answer me.” This time he shoved her against the locker with considerable force. The clanking sound echoed throughout the hallway. “Did that hurt bitch? Did it?” She nodded, hugging herself tightly as she began to sob. “I’ll tell you what your gonna do. You’re gonna meet me tomorrow night, by the bridge, we’re gonna go back to my place and then you’re gonna help me…relax.” Isabelle pushed herself back against the wall of lockers as hard as she could, as if was trying to become part of it, she looked up at his face, her mouth a little open. “Do you fucking understand!?” “Y-yes.” The word barely audible as her voice trembled. He turned around sharply and flicked the collar of his jacket up. His back towards her, he tilted his head slightly and hissed- “And don’t even think about tryin’ any shit. Remember Izzy, I still know where you live.” With every pace he took down the corridor Isabelle sunk lower, her back gradually sliding down the lockers until she was on the floor. She curled up, her head on her knees and silently cried. “How was school today sweetheart?” Isabelle lay on her side, spreading her modest full length on the living room sofa. The only light in the room was being emitted from the muted television. Isabelle’s eyes were fixed at the screen, reminding herself to blink every half hour or so. Her father walked into the room as the gaudy, flashing images of a soap commercial appeared on screen. “That bad huh? Jesus, it’s dark in here.” He said with a raised eyebrow. As he switched on a lamp he paused and gazed down at his daughter. She had broke from her trance and had shifted on to her back, returning her fathers gaze with her own dreamy eyes. Isabelle was wearing her usual vest and panties, he could see the rise and fall of her firm breasts as she breathed in and out silently. “What’s wrong daddy?” “I was about to ask you the same thing.” He motioned for her to sit up momentarily and he sat down, resting his left hand on the cushiony arm. Isabelle lay back down, her head now in his lap. She turned onto her side again and stared lazily into the television, he stroked her silky hair off her face and returned a strand to behind her ear. “I guess you didn’t have a great day at school.” “Not really.” She responded, her voice utterly devoid of malice or sarcasm. “How was yours?” “No luck.” “Never mind daddy, you’ll get one.” Isabelle lifted herself up and kissed her father gently on the cheek. “Lie down with me, I’m cold.” He complied and in a moment he lay on his back, his eyes noticing the cracks of decay in the ceiling. Isabelle rested on top of him, again staring blankly at the T.V. noticing only the cracks of decay in her life. An hour past as they lay together in the dimly lit room, with the television on mute, comfortable only in each others arms and silence. As he continued to stroke her hair, his arms engulfing her, she began to squirm with tingles of pleasure. Isabelle felt complete. Utterly safe and content in the arms of this man. As he ran a hand down the small of her back, she could feel electricity on the surface of her skin. She closed her eyes dreamily and let out the faintest of moans as he explored more of her body, gliding his hands up and down. As she rubbed against his body with her own, her vest began to ride further up her midriff allowing him to touch more and more of her smooth, creamy skin. “Daddy…t-t-take it off.” she managed, her eyes closed as her body writhed sensuously over his. He grasped at the tight bunch of cloth that was up to her shoulder blades and pushed it further upwards as she wriggled to help him free her of the clothing. Stretching her arms out Isabelle sighed with relief as she parted with her vest as they returned to exploring each other with one less restriction. His shirt quickly followed. She craved the closeness; The intense connection of another body with her own. Her breasts swelled as they pressed down onto his chest as she stroked her hands down his sides. He began squeezing his daughter tighter, one arm bent round her under arm, the hand resting upon her shoulder from behind, the other gently kneading and massaging her buttocks, inside her panties. Isabelle was kissing the inside of his neck, feeling herself melting, deeper and deeper into him. “Isabelle, If I could…tell you…my thoughts right now…I…I-” Her moans drowned out his whispered words. She opened her eyes, almost sleepily, and lay her small hand on his. Isabelle guided the hand downwards along her side, tracing the small, sultry curves of her own body. By now both their bodies were heating up with the intensity of their passion, and their forms glided over and around each other slippery with sweat. His hand slid in between their bodies on its descent. He rubbed against the front of her soaking panties as she groaned, yearning for more. Her aura of pure, white hot desire was intoxicating and relentless. Arching her lower back she thrust with her pelvis deep into her father’s groin. Isabel could feel a growing swell underneath her panties. They moaned with pleasure and fervour. Finally, after she blindly unbuttoned his jeans, tugging them down as fast as she could- she looked down upon his face, their lips a millimetre apart. Her velvety whisper, teasing and playful but utterly undeniable.- |
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