Little Kimberly's Family Fun

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I was only a somewhat well-developed 11-year-old that humid July afternoon I admitted to my sweet little cousin, Amy, I'd been having sex with my father. It'd been going on for over a month. Five weeks, actually.

“What?” she gushed. “Kimberly! Oh, my God!”

Also that (even though he'd had a vasectomy years ago) I was now on birth control, just in case. Of course, my up-tight mother had no idea, not a clue, or she'd have killed me! And at St. Katherine's Academy, where Amy and I both attended, they wouldn't have been thrilled at the birth control part, either, to say nothing about the ongoing acts of genuinely perverted incest.

On the other hand, it wasn't my fault.

Perverted acts or not, the dirty fun I shared with my father was far too stimulating at my young age to halt. I was far from innocent, even then, but he'd clearly found theonbutton to my little 5^th -grader's cunt. From that moment forward, my smoothly-bare genitalsitchedin moist sexual anticipation, my already sensitive clitoris pitched into a heightened state of almost unbearable attention.

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