contribute to the support of the family — and the father thus becomes more human, and more approachable, in the eyes of his children.
In 1953, the year of the Kinsey report, people were far more reluctant than today to admit that they had engaged in sexual behavior which might be considered antisocial. Thus, considering today's atmosphere of greater sexual freedom, it seems reasonable to conclude that a new study of sexual attitudes and experiences would find an even higher number of women willing to admit that they had engaged in incestuous intercourse.
Youth of today is more aware, sexually, than the young people of years gone by, and it may well be that this awareness will lead to an increase in intra-family sex. Only time will tell. But it is a certainty that the children of those couples who engage in the mate swapping to which we have referred will, in most cases, become aware of the activities of their parents. The effect of such a discovery is hard to predict and will, of course, vary in each case; but it may be that many children, seeing one barrier fall, will feel free to abandon their own moral codes.
The youth communes, too, are another attack upon the traditional structure of the family, and the effect may be tremendous and far-reaching.
In many of these communes, where all property is shared, nudity is accepted without comment, and there are no traditional husbands and wives, even sex is a communal item. 'Making like', it is often called — and the responsibility for the rearing of the children is often shared among the members of the commune.
In such an atmosphere, the child is likely to find it difficult to find a father-image with which she may identify. When the mother is shared equally between several men, and the child receives both her affection and her discipline from more than one 'father', it seems highly unlikely that her mind will erect what Freud called the barrier against incest and erect may be the key word in Freud's writings on the subject.
Raised in such a commune, knowing the females are shared, feeling an equal affection for the male adults of the household, and reaching puberty — is the child likely, if aroused sexually, to make a distinction between her natural father and another? Probably not.
The attitudes of the other members of the commune, of course, will bear heavily upon the development of the child. It may well be that the parents, following their instincts, will maintain the taboo against incest. Perhaps they will not. But the tremendous number of communes now forming across the nation does seem a point worth watching. This final destruction of the family unit could be the first signal that society is shedding its traditional taboo against incest. During the coming years, as the children of these communal families reach puberty, we may well see a tremendous increase in the incidence of sex within the family.
Many members of these communes will no doubt return to the mainstream of our society, picking up the moral codes from which they have attempted to flee. Others will take their place. The communes may be a permanent thing; they may fade into oblivion.
But they are surely the most concerted attack ever made upon the accepted structure of the family and the barrier erected against the incest taboo.
Will the barrier fall? Only time will tell. This book does not pretend to hold the answer to that question. Time and research will provide that answer. And the book is not about the people society calls 'hippies'; nor is it about communes. It is about the people next door. The businessman with the lovely young daughter. It is about the people who, perhaps, work with you, or attend your church; the daughter may go to school with your own daughter. For it is a fact — like it or not — that incest does occur.
The people you will meet within these pages are real. The stories are their own, and so are the words. Sometimes sordid, sometimes heartbreaking, each of them is true. They are case histories of daughters and fathers…
… Daughters and fathers who ignore the barrier against incest.
CHAPTER ONE
YOUR FATHER FOR MINE?
Mama would have raised pure hell if she could have seen us there, naked, four in one bed, sweating even though the air conditioner in the motel room was turned to its coldest. I always sweat when I fuck, sweat until my body gets slippery; and now, as we rested after our first balling of the night, I could feel the perspiration forming cold beads on the flesh of my knockers, on my thighs, my belly. It felt good.
Daddy was sweating, too. His dark hair was wet and pasted to his forehead. The hair on his broad chest and muscular legs was wet and glistening with sweat. He was resting with one arm thrown over his eyes, shielding them from the glare of the overhead light, and I could see that the dark hair beneath his arms was also damp. So was his cock. And the hair around it.
But that was wet with come, not sweat.
Moving closer to him, so that my body was pressed against his side, I pulled his arm down from over his eyes and slipped it under me, snuggling close. With my other hand I reached down to touch his sticky, half-hard prick. His white teeth flashed as he smiled lazily at me.
I kissed him in the hollow of his throat, tasting the salt of his sweat, and I felt his rough hand move down and close over the globe of my tit. My nipple was still hard and erect, the way it always gets when I fuck, or when I even think about fucking, and I felt myself getting hornier as he idly played with my knocker. I began to wonder how long he would have to rest before he could fuck again. Not long, I hoped.
On the other side of my father lay Jodi and her dad, legs still tangled together so that her wet little pussy was pressed against his thigh. She moved it against him as I watched. Both had their eyes closed, the way people will do after a good piece of ass, and I sort of got a kick out of looking them over.
Jodi was seventeen, a year older than me, but she was little. I had it all over her when it came to tits, and I was several inches taller. She was a blonde, just like Ken, her father, and the blondeness was natural. The hair around her cunt proved that. Me, I have the black hair of my father; and it tangles in a thick bush around my cunt. All in all, black hair and blonde, me with the big tits and Jodi with the petite little body she had, we should have made a picture you could put on sale. I reached across the bed and touched Ken's prick.
Jodi, feeling the movement, opened her blue eyes wide. She looked down at my hand, resting on the cock of her father, and she smiled. 'Your father for mine?' she asked. That had been our original plan. I returned the smile, shook my head, my long black hair teasing the flesh of my father, and said, 'No way, friend. Not now. I want a little of them both. Two cocks are better than one, they say.'
And it was the right thing to say. I had rolled half atop Daddy, my knockers reaching down to touch at his side and his chest as I felt his prick with my free hand, and I felt it begin to come alive in my grasp. There is nothing better than the feel of a swelling prick. And in my other hand I could feel the rising of Ken's cock. The suggestion had brought them both to life.
'You can get your pussy from behind,' I told Daddy, giving his cock one last squeeze and letting my fingers rub him hard across his hairy balls before I forced my way in between the legs of Jodi and her father. I got into a kneeling position, ready to blow him, and I used both hands to spread his legs wide. Plenty of room, that was what I needed.
'What about me?' Jodi asked, sliding into a sitting position with her back against the headboard of the bed, her long, slender legs spread wide, her pussy showing the slight gleam of come. The girl had absolutely no imagination. I grinned at my father, who was now standing beside the bed, his cock hard and ready, and I grinned at Ken, whose prick stood upright in the cradle of my hands, and then I grinned at her. 'Daddy has a tongue, sweetheart,' I told her. 'So let him use it. That's what tongues are for.'
And then I bent down to blow her father's cock. As far as I was concerned, Jodi could take care of herself. She was a raunchy little bitch, one of the hottest I had ever known, and I had no doubt that she would. Me, I had my own fucking to worry about.
'Lift your ass a little higher, Nora,' I heard my father say as I eyed the stiff rod of Ken's prick. His hands slid off the back of my legs, stopping when they reached my upraised buttocks, and I could feel him urging me higher. As if I needed urging. I was hot as a firecracker — and getting hotter.
As I slowly bent and touched my lips to the rounded red head of Ken's prick, giving it the gentlest of kisses, I could feel the hand of my father rubbing upward between my legs, stroking the cleft between my buttocks,
