Like Attracts Like, Apart From When They Repel.

You know what; that bloody awful 'why' question causes more computer meltdowns than any other sort of question. 'How' questions? Easy-peasy! 'What' questions? A doddle! 'Who', 'when' and 'where' questions? Elementary, my dear whatsyername! But 'whys'? Best not let such a question anywhere near your laptop if you don't fancy having to send it off for counselling a short time later. That's my advice. Why? Because Artifical Intelligence functions objectively, whereas 'why' is a subjective inquiry to which there are (at the very least) billions of alternative answers. No microchip in creation has the capacity to process them all. But of course, that's just one of over a billion possible answers. Fortunately however, my Linda wasn't blessed with an inter-cranial micro processor implant and so had just the one answer for everything.

"Mum. She's my why! My fucking, fit looking, bitch of a treacherous mother who betrayed and hurt us both to hell and back. That's why."

"B . . . but you haven't seen . . . I mean, she's been gone these past eleven years. I'm lost, Linda; you'll have to help me out here: what has your mother got to do with you running around throttling estate agents?"

"Oh come on, dad, let's not get things out of proportion; there's only been one estate agent so far and I can assure you, absolutely no unpleasant running was involved. But okay, here's the full story. When mum left you, she also left me, right? In doing so, she left a very little girl behind to grapple with the sort of super-colossal 'why' question that causes more computer meltdowns than any other kind. You with me so far?"

I must admit, I found it hard to see what little girl's behinds had to do with anything; but I did manage to grasp the gist of what Linda was saying and so was able to reply, "Yes honey, I hear you. It was a terrible time for both of us. For me, it certainly took a while and a lot of soul searching before I came to terms with your mother wanting to share her life with someone other than me. That said however, I've never understood why she cut off all contact with you. Especially since the two of you always seemed so close."

"I've never understood that either dad, and can't say I ever will. I mean, what did I do to drive her away? Was I too loud about the house? I don't think so. I was as quiet as a diminutive rodent. Didn’t I keep my room tidy enough for her? Fuck that! It was immaculate. Was she upset with me for strangling little fury animals? I can't see how she could be, considering she never said a word against it. She just smiled indulgently and even got rid of the evidence for me so you wouldn’t find out and raise an irate daddy-sized fuss. She kept my secret, just as surely as I kept hers about uncle John coming to play with her in your bedroom while you were out. It was a sort of pact we made with each other. Of course, I was just a kid then and knew next to nothing about sex; apart from the fact that it could apparently get a tad noisy at times. God, but mum had a loud squeal in her, when she got excited!"

"So . . . y . . you . . . you were killing critters . . . BEFORE your mother left?"

"No shit, Sherlock! Boy, you catch on fast. Yeah, but get this: mum had another little secret beside uncle John. One she never knew I knew about. You see, one day, a mouse got away from me and I was silently sneaking around the house with my favourite strangling ribbon in my hand, trying to find it. That's how I came upon mum without her seeing me. She was in the kitchen and had my escaped mouse in her hand. Well, I say hand; it was actually being held by the throat between the thumb and forefinger of one hand. As I watched, she held the struggling, squeaking wee mite up before her eyes so she'd have a better view of it. She then started breathing as heavily as she did when she was playing with uncle John and whispered "soon be over, little mousey, soon be over." I guess she must have pinched its neck so it couldn't breathe at this point because "mousey" struggled all the more for the short time it took it to die. It's the look on mum's face as she killed it I'll never forget though. She looked . . . ecstatic; thrilled even; positively gleeful. In fact, she looked exactly like the way I feel inside when I kill; the fabulous way I felt just now, killing her."

At least this cleared up the mystery of why my wife ran off with John: he owned a petshop just brimming with little furry animals she could throttle.

Linda was looking at Laura's body as she spoke and now she'd started really opening up, there seemed to be no stopping her. Not that I wanted to. The well modulated sound of my daughter's voice was beginning to soothe away my manic panic. It was hypnotic, besides which it was the only familiar thing in this whole bizarre situation from which I could take any comfort. I stopped wrestling with with all my frantic thoughts and emotions, reminded myself that this was my belovéd daughter who I should listen to - and did just that. In fact, I gave myself up to unthinkingly hanging on her every word totally. Petrified as I had been, I was seduced into unconsciously handing my will over to her since she seemed to be the only one of us with any idea as to what was happening right now and what should happen next. At that point, I had no idea that her idea would change my life forever.

Following Linda's gaze, I also looked upon the young woman's very attractive and strangely alluring corpse sprawled on the floor before me. Linda's lips came close to my ear and sang in a whisper, "Isn't she lovely; isn't she wonderful! If you're wondering about the exposed tit, it's just a kink I've got. I love the feel of a fellow female dying in my hand and to have a girl's boob trembling and wobbling like a demented jelly on my palm really gets my vaginal juices flowing. Yes daddy, your little girl has flowing vaginal juices; they're flowing right now in fact. What do you think about that!"

I didn't think, I just mutely accepted as I focused on the whiteness of that exposed breast, the smooth roundness of it. My daughter had been sexually aroused by it. She wanted me to know that and something about the excitement in her voice as she spoke of it suggested that she wanted me to share in this experience. She wanted me to be as turned on by this dead girl as she clearly was. She was working on me to bring this abomination about and dispite all my innate misgivings, it was working.

"You haven't touched a woman in that way for years, have you, dad. Well, just look at lovely Laura there and see what you've been missing. She's freshly killed and still warm. Touch her now and it'll feel just as if she were still alive. Her breasts are very soft, dad. You prefer them soft rather than firm, don't you. You want to touch her, don't you. Go ahead. Feel her. Enjoy her. Take all of her if you want. I'll help you undress her, then you can use her in anyway you wish. I guarantee she won't resist and she definitely won't complain. Touch her for me daddy, please."

Maybe it was the pleading tone of her voice that caused me to do it, because what loving father doesn't wish to oblige his pleading daughter if he can. So I reached out and gently caressed the top half of the exposed breast. Seeing my tanned hand on her pure white skin and feeling how readily her flesh yielded to the pressure of my closing fingers started the arousal process. I pushed and pulled at her bra until both breasts were revealed and was surprised to see both her nipples were standing erect. Possibly a side affect of asphyxiation. I've heard that hanging can have the same affect on a man's penis, especially if he's hanging by the penis I should imagine. Anyway and most certainly, the feel of Laura's lusciously squashy boobs was having that affect on me. I had to adjust my position to accommodate my erection more comfortably. Linda spotted this and was quickly undoing my trousers with all the impatience her mother exhibited when we were first married. I didn't try to stop her. What was the point, we were already both going to hell in a handcart for what had happened here so what difference was a little **** going to make! With both my hands now mauling Laura's busty charms, Linda had a free hand - which she used to grant my erect cock equal freedom. I heard her whispered "wow" which I took to be a compliment and before I knew it, both my little girl's hands were caressing my cock, swiftly followed by her moist, soft lips kissing and sucking the tip until sucked the entire head into her mouth. The thrilling sensations this gave me had me rapidly headed for ejaculation far too quickly for my liking. I figured since that's the way things were heading, I might as well go to prison for a fuck as well as a fondle, so pulling away from both the living and the dead women in the room, I stood up. I'm not too sure just how masterful I could have looked, standing there with my trousers around my ankles, ready to trip me up at my very next step, but I certainly sounded pretty manly as I loudly vocalised the thought now paramount in my mind: "Right! Which of you two cunts shall I hump first?"