None of us really noticed anything on our way down the long driveway to our summer cabin. The girls, Shannon, 22, Shirley, 20, and Victoria, 19, were just as excited as their mother, my wife Barabara, that the five of us would be spending a weekend together. Shannon was engaged, and with the wedding just a month away, this was probably the last time the five of us could be together - and we intended to make the best of it.

I turned the radio off just as the announcer was mentioning something about a gang of bankrobbers who had vanished somewhere in the mountains, and started singing at the top of my voice. Pretty soon, the laides joined in, and it was one loud ruckus that proclaimed our entry into the cabin's compound.

Everything was just as neat as I had hoped it would be. There was a guy who would come up once in a week to clear the yard, and once in a month to clean the house. Vicky, my youngest daughter, pranced around happily in her t-shirt and shorts. Young and exuberant, she was always the exhibitionist of the three - and she had the body that could justify the wild streak! Somehow, her sisters had kept her quiet, but after they had moved out, Vicky just became more daring. Maybe it was just that I was noticing her more only then, but it seemed to me that she spent more time in bikins and bath-towels than in ordinary, conservative clothes.

I will admit I have looked at her with more than a fatherly interest. It would have helped if my wife had been a little more strict in enforcing dress-codes around the house, but no - she was more a friend to her daughters, and wouldn't curtail their freedom in such silly manners. This, of course, led to me walking in when Vicky was sunbathing topless, and even though my wife would be there, neither would I be asked to leave them alone, nor would any instruction be given to my youngest to cover herself.

And when her sisters came home during the hols... man, it was just sheer torture. Vicky and Sherry took to sleeping buff naked, and it was always up to me to wake them up. Shannon would come down to the breakfast table on her own though, but her robe would be open enough to reveal that the only thing she had on underneath were her panties. My wife always seemed to have an amused expression on her face when these things happened, and I am sure she knew the effect the girls were having on me. My own idea of revenge was to fuck her pussy off every night... Barb had no complaints about that!

When I finally worked up enough guts to tell Barb that the girls were being too immodest around me, she brushed me off, saying that as a red-blooded male, it shouldn't bother me. That got to me.

I pointed to my hardon. "It does bother me!"

She giggled, then slid her hands into my boxers and toyed with the erection. "Well, I suppose it doesn't make you feel any better that we don't have a son you could have shared this predicament with... But if I remember correctly, you were the one who wanted three daughters. You certainly got them, didn't ya?"

"Okay, but - "

"Buts nothing! Look, hun, the kids are all grown up. They can do what they want, and if they can't do it here, they will do it somewhere else. Besides, we've always been like pals - to impose silly restrictions would only drive a wedge between us. And don't worry about their immodesty - just think of it as harmless flirtations. Join in the fun, hubby, darling, don't spoil it."

I nodded - trust Barbara to get the better of me! Then I grinned naughtily at her. "Does that mean you won't throw me out if I get caught feeling them up?"

She gave my cock a tight squeeze before replying, "Only if they don't object, you lecher. You can feel them up all you want, darling, but remember, this Johnny belongs to me!"

"I can live with that."

Now, as I watched Vicky climb to the top of the car to untie our baggage, the conversation came back to me. It had been a turning point as far as yours truly was concerned, and after that, I had allowed myself the luxury of ogling the girls pretty licentiously. Barbara commented to me once that Vicky had noticed my interest, and was actually considering it a compliment. Not to mention the fact that she seemed to get even more of a kick walking topless around the house. Still, true to my wife, nothing else developed between Vicky and I - except that our goodnight kisses had become longer, our morning pecks more daring, but nothing else.

It was obvious that Vicky had not bothered with a bra, and I sure as hell wouldn't have allowed her to go anywhere slse in those shorts. Her full breasts juggled with every little movement, and it wasn't much of a secret that she was the most voluptuous of the three girls. I could even make out the slightly pinkish discoloration of her nipples against the white of her t-shirt, and she had accentuated her curves by stuffing her t-shirt into her shorts so much it was skin-tight.

Sherry wasn't any less desirable. She had taken off her blouse in the car itself, and was now in just her bra and miniskirt. It wasn't much of a bra either, more of a webbed covering that was just as revealing as if she had worn a transparent jacket. The rim of her areola was barely covered by the cup of the bra, and a nipple just about poked through one of the holes the webbing had provided. I couldn't believe my wife was letting them wear such things...

Shannon, my eldest, was comparitively more conservative, but that didn't disguise her full figure, long legs or apple-sized breasts. Unlike her sisters, who were blonde-haired, Shan's was a brownish tint, emphasising the loveliness of her face and the demureness of her character. She wasn't as brash or outspoken as her younger siblings, but that didn't mean she was averse to batting her eyelids and kissing me indelicately whenever she wanted anything.

My wife had once asked me if I could define the kind of girlfriends my daughters would make. I had replied, "Shannon would be an excellent wife, Vicky the consummate mistress. And Sherry would be perfect for the office lover..." Don't get shocked, this was the kind of attitude my wife encouraged in me. To see my little girls as women in their own right.

Shannon was attired in a sleeveless blouse, one that looked plain enough up front, but it was only when she turned around that I saw the split in the material. Whether by design or by accident, it showed a lot of her breast, the creamy skin of the side, and when she raised her hands to receive her suitcase from Vicky, I almost had a glimpse of her nipple. Nipples, breasts, pussies,... women... there are some things you can never get enough of seeing.

My wife came up from behind me, whirled me around and kissed wetly, obviously jealous that I had been noticing our daughters instead. Never one to cry at a challenge, my wife did what she always did when she felt ignored or threatened - she grabbed my attention. What a kiss!

By the time we had finished, the girls had unpacked most of the stuff. Only a couple of heavier cases remained, but they could wait - I was suddenly thirsty, and I figured a good soak in the tub with my wife would get rid of whatever tiredness I felt after five straight hours of driving. "Where's the key?" I asked, realizing that I had given it to one of my daughters.

Holding a suitcase in each hand, Shannon gestured towards her breast-pocket. "In here," she said, smiling coyly, "You have to take it."

Like I said, Shannon was the shy kid of the three - but that is only by comparison. It wasn't the first time I have had to dip my hands into her pockets. And like the previous times, by the time I had reached the key, my hand was already pressed against her breast. The erect nipple poking was too much of a temptation to resist, and as I drew the key out, I gave her bud a slight squeeze. Doubtless, everyone knew what I was doing, but no one said anything. It was all part of the game.

The door opened, and I led the girls into the room. By the time it had registered that something was wrong, the door slammed shut behind us, the lock was turned, and the lights came on. Seven armed men, clothed from head-to-toe (quite unlike my daughters, I thought fleetingly) surrounded us in an instant, the weapons in their arms reflecting the light off their dulled steel. Instinctively, I extended my arms bacwards in a protective gesture, as if drawing my family into my folds.

"What do you want?"

"Shhh!" replied a voice from the other end of the room, and I whirled around. Two men entered from the doorway of the kitchen, weapons drawn, and the taller man spoke. "Please. Do not make noise. We, ah, just rented this cabin for a week -"

"The bank robbers!" my wife exclaimed.

"Very good," the man said, his attention now drawn to my wife. "The wife is just as well-informed as she is beautiful, is she not, Mr.Michael?"

"You know my name?" I was beyond surprise, but his knowledge of my name was definitely intimidating.

"Of course," replied the gentleman in black, "As I mentioned, we've been here for a week. It's almost as if we are all - how do we say - family - ah, yes - family now. And these must be the little girls in those photographs." He glanced at my daughters appreciatively, but, Thank God, I thought, not lecherously. "I must say, Mike - may I call you Mike... thank you - I must say that the pictures do little justice to these beauties. You really ought to get newer pictures, Mike. The ones that you have must be antique."

"I will consider your advice," I said, with a show of rising indignation, "And if that's all, I suggest you leave now..."

The man laughed mirthlessly. "Why is it that everytime we try to get friendly, folks like you think we are fools? Look around you, Mike - the weapons are trained on you. Do you know that the one with the weapons gives the orders? Fact is, Mike, pal, you and your family arrived a day too early. Tomorrow, and you wouldn't even have known we were here. However, the fact that you are here right now, with us, puts all of us in a dilemma."

"What are you going to do with us?" I would like to say I demanded, but it was more a request, given, as he had so succinctly pointed out, that my wife and kids were in their beads.

"That's the dilemma. The thing is, we are neither murderers nor rapists. At the same time, you know we have been here. Now that's unfortunate. We could just shoot you all, but, like I said, we don't want. That doesn't mean we won't, just that it's an option that we are reluctant to consider. As soon as we release you, though, you are gonna run to the cops and say that you saw us."

"What if I promise you I won't?"

"I may believe you, Mikey, old friend, but some of us here don't. So that brings us to an enforcer, an insuarance. Plain old blackmail, if you want to be crude, but it's just to make sure you keep your word. How does that sound?"

I was about to say something when I realized that the question hadn't been directed at me. It had been directed at his gang-members; all of them nodded. Yes. Good.

"You have a camera here?" the leader of the gang asked me.

I shook my head. There was one in the car, a handycam, but why volunteer information? The man apparently realized I was lying, for he signaled towards my wife, and the next thing I know, she was kneeling down in front of us, a gun pointed at her head.

"I do not think you have grasped the delicacy of the situation here, Mike. A family doesn't go on a trip without a camera - I am sure you must have one in your suitcase. Or would you rather do it after your wife..." he left the threat hanging.

"It's outside," I stammered, "In the car."

"Get it. And no nonsense."

His eyes lit up when he saw that it was a handycam, with a blank cassette inside. He made a momentary check of the batteries, and then, having satisfied himself that things couldn't be better, turned towards us with a smile.

"I have always wanted to make a home video, Mike. This fits the bill rather nicely." Still smiling, he turned to his lieutanant and whispered something in his ear. The second man grinned, and walked over to my wife. I watched helplessly as he dragged her over to a straight-backed chair, pulling her hair, and poor, brave Barbara! As much as it would have pained her, she didn't cry. Vicky clung on to my hand even harder.

The man pulled out a pair of cuffs from his pocket and slapped them on my wife, much like the cops arresting a suspect. He turned her around, then, to our horror, pulled down her skirt in one smooth motion. He clamped a hand over her mouth as he pulled her panties down, until it was free, and then, tossing his gun to a cohort, proceeded to gag my wife with her own panties. The room was deathly silent, with only the sound of my wife's strained speech distorted by the cotton strung across her mouth. I was so angry I contemplated charging them right then and there - only Vicky's grip on me held me back. The girls were sobbing silently, and I could do nothing...

Using her skirt, the man tied my wife's legs to the chair, as his superior watched with a look of quiet satisfaction. "Now," the latter said when my wife was securely bound, "It's time for action."

"Please don't do anything to her," Shannon whimpered.

"Of course not, dear. She is just the motivation. Let's just say that her well-being depends on you." I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, and what he said next shocked the senses out of me.

"Now how would you like to make a little love with your father?"

"You bastard - " The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, gasping for breath. The pain in my stomach was for real...

"Please, Mike. Understand us. It's all a question of necessity, is it not? Your wife is the bait, to spell it out. You make love to your daughters, we tape it. We leave with the tape, we ensure your silence. You go to police, the tape finds its way to the right people."

"I could show we were forced," I gasped out.

"Very good. You are not as dumb as you act. But you seem to forget the nuances of the smaller picture, my friend. By the time your names are cleared, your life, as you know it, will be over. Kaput! Ruined! And as for your daughters... they will forever be known as the whores who bedded their own father. No matter what happens. Let me ask you - is putting us behind bars worth that much to you?"

My wife started to sob; we were finished. I glanced at my wife, my heart dying at the sight of her head bent forward, shaking as she cried. I looked at Shannon, my sweet baby Shannon, my DAUGHTER Shannon, whom this prick was asking to lay me... Death seemed a very viable option right then.

Shannon, on the other hand, seemed to want to live some more - even as I watched, she slowly raised a hand to her blouse, and had unbuttoned the first one when the man stopped her.

"Not here, dear. In there, in your bedroom. We have to make this seem real, no?" The look I shot him could have killed him, to adapt an old cliche, but further retorts were prevented when I was roughly made to stand up again and follow my daughter into the bedroom that had been my wife's and mine. Only one of the hooded bastards followed us, the camera in his hand - the others waited outside, as calmly as if they were watching a movie at the local duplex.