Calliope s New Life
- 4 years ago
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They Call Me Ismail free porn video
Copyright© 1999-2003
In bed Dr. Oscar McPugh
Spoke of Spengler -- and ate crackers too.
His wife said, "Oh, stuff
That philosophy guff
Up your ass, dear, and throw me a screw!"
My Netscape inbox new mail indicator had the red flag up which indicated I had new mail waiting for me. If your reading this account, which is where it all started not so long ago, via the Internet you must know just how email works.
Just looking for any excuse not to work I minimized the window that I had been working on and double clicked on the mail indicator. Netscape mail finally came up, I've never been satisfied with the speed of my machine, and began to download my new messages.
I rarely get mail, except for the unwanted spam message of course, that is unrelated to work. Sometimes a friend from the coast sends me mail, but rarely. I assumed, since the message was taking so long to download, that someone had again sent me that darn dancing baby. Cute once, irritating the second time. Especially if it gets sent to you multiple times in your email.
Sitting back I took a sip of my coffee and watch the indicator get closer to the end.
Finally.
I saw a single message in the inbox but it was from '[email protected]' and had no subject line. Great a spammer that sent huge attachments in their messages.
Half prepared to delete it immediately I clicked on the message and a picture appeared inline to the body of the message. Or at least the top portion of a picture.
Frowning I stared at the face and neck of my daughter Liz. Someone had sent me a picture of my own daughter?
I saw that the scroll bar was small indicating there was more to the message. I clicked with my mouse and the message scrolled down slowly.
What I saw changed my life, Liz was wearing only white socks and a smile. My own daughter was naked! She was standing in what was obviously her bedroom, upon her own bed, hands behind her back, her young pert breasts thrust out proudly and her sparse pubic hair darker than the hair upon her head. For the first time in years I saw the long sleek lines of my own daughters nudity, her thin lithe teenage body with its flat stomach, smooth flawless skin and definite woman's shape. She was beautiful!
I saw and digested all that in a mere second.
Quickly I closed Netscape and sat staring at the place upon my monitor that my own daughter had been. My god who the hell would send me this picture while at work? Who the hell took the picture, Liz didn't even have a fucking boyfriend?
Like a conspirator I looked around expecting to see my coworkers snickering at what they just witnessed. I saw only two people and it was impossible for them to see my monitor from where they sat. In fact, I had set my monitor just so most could not see what was on my screen.
I actually picked up the phone and dialled home to tell my wife Helen just what happened. It rang only twice when I reopened Netscape and clicked on the same message. There she was my own daughter. Some sicko pervert fuck had thought to play a joke and send me a picture of my own daughter. Hope he got his rocks off, because I'll have his name out of Liz as soon as she gets home from school.
No answer. I hung up frustrated.
Liz's eyes looked at me, through the camera and monitor to stare at her father. The one now looking at her naked proud stance and attractive body.
Yes, indeed, she was very attractive. Beautiful even. If you consider a thin seventeen year-old can be 'beautiful'. In fact she looked rather sexy... !
Oh god, my own daughter! Those eyes condemned me.
I didn't tell Helen, I'm not sure why. Nor did I speak to Liz about it. In fact, we sat for our regular evening meal and when it was done the kids ran off to their room while Helen started to clean up. I was left with the memories of my daughter naked body and smiling proud face.
That next day, approximately the same time, I received another email.
When my download indication took a long while my heart beat faster and I wondered if another picture of my own daughter soon awaited me. It was.
Liz stood in profile, facing another teenage girl of approximately the same age. She didn't look familiar at all, none of the friends that Liz had over to the house while I was home that was certain. Yet, the picture was in our living room, with the fireplace behind the two teens.
The unknown girl was the same height as Liz, shorter darker hair, several pounds heavier. Where Liz was sleek and lithe, the new girl was soft and voluptuous. From what I could see, she didn't have as pretty a face as Liz but still comely in a teenage sort of way.
It was what the two teenage girls where doing that startled me.
Liz and this voluptuous babe were in a wide mouthed wet passionate kiss. They were pressed together and wore clothes, if that is what they could be called. Liz wore a short tee-shirt that ended just above her navel and only a pair of plain white cotton panties on. The other young woman wore a bikini top and tight shorts. The tee shirt and bikini were both partially transparent, I could see the two darkened nipples as they pressed against the others bodies. The other girl probably had a 'C' cup bosom. While the girl had her head tilted away from the camera, Liz was towards it and I had a great view of their sloppy sexy kiss. Liz had one hand just beneath the large breast and the other upon the others back. The heavier girl had one hand beneath the cotton panty and had a full handful of my daughters hard teenage butt. The second hand I could not see.
Again, the message had no text in the body nor a subject line.
All through supper I watched her, seeing a different young woman than I had ever seen before. Here was a woman that had a life outside the one her family had raised her with, a sexual life. Even a bi-sexual life evidently. Those lips that ate had kissed those full lips of the other girl with hunger. I wondered what else they did.
Again I never mentioned the photos or questioned my daughter.
Yet again I received another large message containing a erotic picture of my daughter, again at the same time of day.
This time I knew not where it was taken, a basement somewheres. Liz was fully naked in the black and white photo, and lay upon the lap of a dressed woman. The woman had an attractive short skirt on with dark hose and black heels, feet together. Very attractive legs. The photo only came up to clothed woman's moderate white blouse covered chest, no face could be seen. Yet I guessed her to be a few years older than Liz, just by the styles and posture.
One hand roughly held my daughters hair and forced the face up towards the camera. While the other had just came down upon the round hard buttocks in a strong spanking, the sexy ass was indented with the pressure of the blow. Liz was open mouthed in a scream of pain and wild look was in her eye that I could only guess at.
It was a photo of a lifestyle I had never even imagined. Oh, of course I've heard and read about others indulging in dominance and spanking and other such things. But to have such a blunt image as this picture thrust upon me, left me dizzy with the cloud of my own mind. Her mother and I had never even spanked Liz as a child!
I was this girls father - what was I to do?
That weekend was rough for me, I avoided my daughter as much as possible. Yet, my mind could not get out the images that some malicious fuck had sent me.
Helen had been energetic in our weekly early-Sunday-morning-fuck, as she always was. Yet as she bounced up and down upon my lap, my cock buried deep within her, I could not get the images of my daughter out of my head. That didn't trouble me nearly as much as when I had a very fulfilling and explosive orgasm that left me drained and exhausted till noon. Helen just laughed playfully and whispered into my ear, "Your getting old honey!"
Old indeed, I had imagined it was my daughter that had been bouncing above me when I finally came!
Monday, approximately the same time, I received yet another email and photograph.
Each of the three other photos were each successively more graphic, I trembled when I finally opened the new message. I knew these images excited me, they shouldn't of course, but they did. I had no idea how to stop them though, or how to stop the fire in my own veins.
I was not disappointed.
Liz was naked and bound. Her wrists bound together with a white rope over my own dining room table. The other end of the binding went over the far end of the table and bound to the floor. Both her ankles were tied to the table legs, far apart. Behind her stood that same bountiful teenager from the second photo, naked except for a wide leather strap and what I can only describe as a jutting cock. Yup, a pale coloured six inch long fake cock was attached in some way to the front of the belt, just at right level that a cock would be if she had been a man. The other end of the cock was inside my own daughters vagina, just small portion of the rounded head.
My daughter's face was flat on my table but facing the camera, her mouth open and her eyes practically screaming out her passion and enjoyment. The pudgy girl was holding the base of her cock, aiming it for what looked like the final thrust, a look of concentration upon her brow.
In the corner of the picture, another woman, possibly the same woman as the last photo. Or rather only her legs. She wore white nylons, the thigh high kind. The photo stopped at her navel, but it was evident that she wore nothing else. One of her hands was between her thighs watching the ocean before her.
It was done in such detail that I could see the moisture upon the flowered open ready-to-be-invaded vagina of Liz, my daughter. I could also see a ring of moisture about my daughters lips and chin, the substance unknown. Yet I thought of some very graphic conclusions.
I must have stared at that picture for twenty minutes. It was graphic, kinky and very exciting. My daughter seemed to be in some lesbian group, if such things exist, and evidently enjoying herself.
I reviewed the four photos, and determined this 'group' had been going on for some time. Simply from the different hair styles that my daughter wore, and from the placement of some of the furniture and items about my own house.
My house! My daughter!
I didn't say a thing that night but was determined to tell Helen about these disturbing images. Why I didn't, I'm not sure. Perhaps it was because I wanted to find out what the next image was. It fascinated me, and it most certainly turned me on.
The next email came, again, at the same time. Though it was much smaller this time. I opened it and only saw one line in the body, a email address at Yahoo. The user id was simply a random mixture of numbers and letters. Whomever had been sending these pictures wanted to chat, I'm just not sure I wanted to chat with them.
But of course my curiosity won out and I sent a rather terse email. "Who is this? Where did you get these pictures?".
My anger rising at the intrusion into my life, both aimed towards my daughter for her adventurous and wild private life and this unknown individual who was sending me email.
Surprise, a response returned within minutes. Whomever it was, was also online at the same time I was.
"They call me Ismail." Huh? That sounded familiar but I couldn't place it. It didn't matter, it seems it was what the person wanted to be called. "I have many many more - are you ready?"
It didn't take me long to answer, "Yes." What else could I do. If I was to find out who this was that invaded our private lives, I had to play this persons game.
Soon another picture came. If the first picture that was sent to me startled me from my middle-aged bliss, this picture crushed any illusions I may have about my life, future and past. Yes, it was that intense.
Within the photo, my daughter was kneeling naked on our living room floor, her head between the sexy mature thighs of my own wife Helen. Helen wore white stockings, the same as the previous photo, and had her ankles upon on the edge of the couch and wide apart. Liz's tongue was sticking out and was half submerged into the grotto of my wife's love canal, her vagina. Helen had her head flung back in ecstasy, one that I've seen before in our marriage bed and was holding her own breasts.
Almost comically, I said, "I definitely can't tell Helen about the pictures!"
It was incest! Sex with a minor!
My wife Helen with our seventeen year old daughter Liz. Named after Helen's mother, Elizabeth. My total world, the one where my family was the foundation of my life, tumbled down in a millisecond.
I stumbled out of work, hours early, with those images in my briefcase. What was I to do? What could I do? What should I do?
It was illegal, it was immoral, it was disgusting!
Was it?
I was certainly excited by the images of my darling daughter in the raw glory of her lesbian escapades, of the simple sight of her nudity. Perhaps it was similar with my wife? I could imagine something along the lines of... Helen walks in on Liz masturbating and storms out, hours later attempts to talk with her daughter, one thing leads to another and they begin their first incestuous tumble.
A part of that scenario turned me on immensely! Another part of that drew out my life's blood, that I could be betrayed by my own wife and daughter.
It had to be Helen's fault right? She was the adult. She was the one that had spanked Liz, not the other way around. Had my wife orchestrated all this, had organized my daughters fall to the level of a sexual slut, a whore?
Never before would I have even considered it.
I returned home late, ate supper and crawled into our marriage bed next to my sleeping wife. I lay in the dark hearing her light regular breathing and remember the photo of her stocking clad legs with her hand between them masturbating while her own daughter was fucked by another girl. Normally it was too fantastic and impossible to imagine. Yet, I had the digital images in my briefcase, proof!
Another message came to me the next day, "You like?"
The bastard! Asking me that. He must know who I was, how could he not. So he asked me this question when I felt my life was crumbling about me!
I wrote back, honestly, "It disturbed me."
Ismail replied minutes later, "You like?!"
I had to find out this bastard was, "Yes." It was true wasn't it? As much as I hate to admit it, it turned me on immensely.
Another photo some appeared in my mailbox. My naked wife now wore the leather belt and fake cock, the other end within my own daughters rectum. Liz lay upon my marriage bed, her knees by her breasts and held with her own hands. Helen knelt between them and it looked as if she was pumping, as a man would, within my own daughters bowels.
I felt like crying. I nearly did.
"Liz does anything for her mom." Ismail wrote. "I have many pictures."
I wrote back, "Who are you?"
"They call me Ismail." Bastard. "Liz calls mommy 'Mistress'."
"What do they call you?" That got him, I received no response for nearly twenty minutes. "They don't know I exist." Thats interesting, then who the hell was he?
Another photo, my daughter sucking my wife's toes, both naked in our living room. I saved it with the others.
Supper was interesting, I sat watching my family looking for signs, anything, that resembled or gave an indication that my wife and daughter were having an affair. Nothing!
In fact, that supper time Liz started to whine about going over to her friends house after supper. The two argued until Helen gave in but I caught a glint in her eye as Liz, finished with her meal, happily ran up to her room to call her friend to plan the meeting.
If Ismail had never sent me a photo, I would never have thought twice about that look. But I did now. Was my wife planing on extracting her revenge later? Perhaps to spank her own daughter again? Much to my amazement my cock hardened within my slacks.
Ismail was getting more chatty, "There are four of them, your wife, her friend and their two daughters."
Another photo came seconds after this message, four completely naked ladies. My wife and daughter with two others, one the voluptuous girl from previous photos. They had broken up into twos, by age and were upon the floor inverted licking the others sex.
Of the photos this was the worst of the bunch, bad lighting, the bodies over to the side of the photo and whom was who hard to make out. All the others had been clean, crisp and detailed with perfect lighting and images. Then I saw the cord going from the bottom of photo, over some discarded clothing to the unknown older woman's hand. I knew enough about photography to know this was the remote switch on the camera.
It told me something, that there were only the four of them. My wife Helen, my daughter Liz, the pudgy girl and another older woman, also rather round. I could also deduce that this new person, the heavy-set older woman took most of the photos while the others participated.
That evening, while Helen cooked our supper, I hastily searched through her drawers for more clues and proof to this heresy. I found none. Not even a pair of stockings, in fact no lingerie at all. But of course, she had never worn these things with me, in our marriage bed. It, evidently, had been something she saved for her incestuous lesbian affair.
Sunday I awoke with my wife's hand fondling my hard cock, it was the one time of the week we had always been able to get enough privacy to enjoy the benefits of married life. This time when I awoke enough to realize who it was and the images I had been tortured to view these last few days, I pulled away mumbling something about "feel sick". I avoided her until it was impossible for us to continue what she had started.
About that same time each work day that I received the anonymous email, I sent my own first. "What are their names?"
Several minutes later Ismail responded, "Melony and her daughter Jeannie."
"Who is in charge?" I thought this question relevant, as he said my daughter called Helen 'Mistress'.
"Helen and Melony." The daughters must be toys to the two older ladies desires. Nice toys I thought as an afterthought.
Another photo. Helen, still dressed but her skirt hiked up over her waist revealing her tan stockings and panties pushed to her knees. Behind her my daughter, still wearing jeans and blouse, her normal school clothing, knelt behind. Liz pulled her mom's ass wide apart and had her tongue half submerged into the round wrinkled anus.
My wife never let me near her asshole, telling me that it never turned her on.
I broke with protocol and asked, "Do you have more of my wife' getting her ass filled?"
No answer. I went home frustrated and stunned.
The next day I received a picture that answered my last request perfectly. My daughter lay upon my bed, wearing a leather belt with that familiar fake cock sticking straight up. Kneeling upon the bed and between my daughters knees was Jeannie, with a double headed dildo in her own cunt. Between the two was my naked wife, both her asshole and vagina filled with fake cock. The look on her face was of sheer bliss. My daughter had a mouthful of her mom's nipple and was holding her mothers ass cheeks wide apart to allow the other teenager easier access. The picture was graphic, in that I could easily see the insertion, and very very kinky.
I had not even thought about such a thing before.
This time a message appeared after I received the photo. "You like?"
"Yes." I answered immediately. It was exactly what I wanted, enough though I had no idea at the time.
I asked, "How long has Helen and Liz been lovers?"
It took a while for a reply, "They are not lovers and I do not know."
That told me something, it probably was not one of the ladies within the picture. I had started to think it was Melony or maybe Jeannie and not some guy after all.
But something bothered me, "Not lovers?"
Several minutes later, finally, a reply, "Liz is her mothers slave?"
I couldn't let that go, of course they were lovers, just look at the photos. "What do you mean?"
Nothing.
I returned to my home hours late, my schedule had been getting longer lately. At least since Ismail has been sending me the photos. They were not lovers, that did not make sense to me. Liz was her mom's slave, to me that meant in their incestuous lesbian games they played a dominant and submissive role.
Helen came into the study and brought me a plate of food, re heated. "Hi babe." She set the plate down before me and sat at the edge of my desk. I couldn't ignore her any longer and looked up into her eyes.
"Can I ask you a question?" She had her arms folded over her chest, and looked rather somber when she asked that question.
All I could think of was the look in her eyes compared to the picture of her getting both ends filled and her eyes staring into my soul though the camera and my monitor.
Since I didn't answer her question she continued, "Are you having an affair."
I couldn't help it and started to chuckle. Helen looked so serious, so aggressive in her manner that I thought it amusing that she would be asking me that!
My response warmed her demeanour and she started to smile. She shrugged and continued, "You have been a bit strange these last few days, I just thought... !"
"I'm not having an affair Helen, on my soul." I wanted to ask the question of her, wanted her to confess to me her sins. Yet I knew I would only get lies. My wife had to be good at lying to hide her incestuous affair from me for all this time. What could I say, "Darling are you fucking our daughter?" Hardly. Instead I kept silent and didn't pull away when she reached for my hand.
She rubbed it for several seconds before saying in a tiny voice, "Come to bed darling?" Helen was offering me herself if only I came to bed. "The kids are in bed already..."
I pulled her hand downwards and she came towards me, kneeling before me. I reached out and brought my wife's lips to my own. As I kissed her passionately, I knew where these lips had been and found a new strength between my legs at the knowledge.
Helen became impassioned at our hot kiss, groaning into my mouth. I put a hand on the back of her head and began to push her face downwards. "Honey... the kids!" I didn't say a word and she never said another. My wife rarely did this for me in all our years of marriage, yet never offered to tell me why. For the first time in our marriage, I just didn't care what she wanted.
Her hands quickly released my hard cock and I felt her warm hot mouth engulfed me. Helen, the mother of my kids began to move her head up and down sucking my cock with love and duty, if not passion. All the while she did her duty, I remembered those photos and her betrayal. I hated her, hated what she was doing behind my back. I wanted to punish her, to fuck her how she didn't like it. To force her over my knee and make her cry with shame and from the pain of my blows. I wanted to have our daughter watch as I humiliated Helen.
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