Chapter 5: Thirteen Years Later

Once she started, my daughter had been insatiable. In the past thirteen years, she has borne six children, four of them girls. Pauline had been right there with her. Her first three babies had been sired by Herman, of course, but the next three had been mine.

We had had to move into a bigger house, and to afford it, at least one of the girls had to get a job. I worked from home anyway, and my work provided the most of our household income. Herman had not exactly been poor, and on his death, Pauline had inherited nearly a quarter of a million pounds, about half in cash and the rest in securities and investments, which provided her with a regular quarterly injection of funds. She insisted in sharing her wealth – she said it was because Lindy and I, mainly me, had taken her in and looked after her and her children after Herman died.

We found a former Care Home with 18 en-suite bedrooms, large living room and kitchen, situated on the coast, with great sea views and a golden sandy beach within 10 minutes’ walk. The property came with a couple of hectares of land, enough for us to grow a lot of our own food, and set aside a suitable area as a paddock with stable for half a dozen rescue horses. The nearest neighbours were in the village about half a mile from the house.

Pauline had sold Herman’s house – the memories it evoked, she said, were sometimes painful, so she was glad to make a new start – and by adding my savings and a mortgage to the pot, we had been able to buy the property. It was well-suited to our needs – remote with no immediate neighbours, plenty of space for the children to play in, and enough room to cope with the expected expansion of our family.

The most significant event, as far as I was concerned was the decision we took that Pauline and I should marry. I couldn’t marry Lindy, but we knew it was a kind of ‘book exercise’ to still a few wagging tongues: Lindy shared my bed as often as Pauline and the two young women got along with each other just fine. You could say our lives were blissful and idyllic.

Slightly less idyllic but entirely to be expected was when the four boys – Leo and Mike, who were Lindy’s sons, and Paul and Harry, who were Pauline’s – hit puberty. Their eight sisters/step-sisters had reached menarche a year or two earlier and begun to integrate sex into their lives, unhindered by the boys until the latter were smitten with hormones, growing spurts, and pubic hair all within a short span of time. They suddenly discovered that girls were very interesting. Their differences in body shape and way of thinking gave the boys much to think about.

Of course, the girls, led by Susan, who was the eldest, had discovered that she and her sisters could have the boys wrapped round their fingers, and lead them a merry dance. Susan as a child had witnessed her mother, step-father and nominal aunt, Lindy, fucking and making babies, and since she, too, was high on hormones, she decided fucking might be fun for her, too.

It was easy for Susan to engage her brothers’ interest. All that was necessary, she found, was to make sure they had plenty of opportunities to see her skin. That meant short skirts, thongs, halter-tops, skimpy bikinis, bras that emphasised her boobs, short shorts, body-hugging tight clothes. And, of course, letting the boys catch a glimpse of her naked by leaving her bedroom door ajar when she was getting in or out of her shower.

And thus encouraged, the boys tried hard to see their other sisters and even their mothers – now both slim and attractive women in their early thirties – naked. Lindy and Pauline and the older girls soon realised what was happening and began to tease the boys – and me – as much as possible.

Then came the day Susan decided she had to try sex for herself. Fifteen years earlier, when she was only two, I had caught her looking at me rather as a pike eyes a minnow. Now she waited until Lindy, Pauline and I went to bed. Both women had decided that six or seven children was a good time to stop, and were both on chemical contraception. We could, therefore fuck as much as we liked with no worries that we might have more babies to bring up.

So there we were, with Lindy and I both hot and sweaty while I rammed my cock in and out of her creaming pussy, while Pauline played with Lindy’s tits and my balls, when Susan entered our bedroom quietly, wearing a pyjama top and shorts, and stood by the bed behind her mother who was facing the other way, rubbing her clit with two fingers darting in and out of her fuck-tube.

It was only after I had fired a large dollop of spunk into Lindy and rolled off her that any of us noticed Susan’s presence.

“Susan!” exclaimed Pauline.

“Mama, I want to come to bed with you.”

Pauline’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t think there’s room.”

“Mama!” Susan’s tone of voice was firm. “You promised.”

“What did I promise?”

“That Daddy would give me a baby when I was old enough. Well – I’m old enough.”

Pauline and I looked at each other. I was still sliding in and out of Lindy’s pussy, Susan’s arrival having put a damper on my passion temporarily.

“We meant your real daddy.”

Susan sighed. “Yes, I know, but Daddy Herman is dead. Lindy’s daddy is ... not.”

Pauline eyed her first-born. “You want your Uncle Dan to make a baby with you?”

Susan looked at me, a glint of lust in her fifteen-year-old eyes. “Will you, Uncle Dan? Will you fuck a baby into me?”

“Are you sure you want me to?” I asked. “What about your brothers?” I meant all the boys: our families are so intertwined that the children might as well be brothers and sisters.

“Yes, well, I thought about that, but you’re so much older, that if you were going to give me a baby, we’d better get a move on.”

I drew in a breath, keeping my face straight. “Before I shrivel up and die?”