The 40 Hour Nude Famine: Book 1

A series for lovers of 18yo daughters and schoolgirls

by Lisa Smiles

It's 40 Hour Nude Famine time again and, as usual, Vice Principal Simon Clark will be running a special class for the eighteen year old girls at his school. With only pretty girls wanting to be a part of the fundraiser these days, the famine is turning into a feast—at least for teachers like Simon who are as serious about working with schoolgirls as they are about loving their daughters.

Seldom has taboo fiction seen a new premise like this: eighteen year old girls raising money by remaining verifiably nude for 40 hours, starting at 10am on a school day. Naturally they need a teacher to facilitate things on the first Friday and a father to vouch they stayed nude on the weekend. Your reliable witness as you enter this world will be Vice Principal Simon Clark, a veteran of romantic and kinky encounters with schoolgirls and his own 19 year old daughter. He has a younger one too, 18 year old Molly, a girl so nebulous and angelic that impure thoughts about her cannot even be held in his mind, and that isn't because he's not trying. She is just too amazing to even consider. But if he can use the 40 Hour Nude Famine to get some momentum, starting off easy with some smoking hot students, he may just have a shot at the stars.

Book one takes us straight into the bedroom with 19 year old daughter Regina, before we get to know Molly and a dozen more schoolgirls and start to undress them.

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Excerpt:

This is what a man needs to come home to. A nineteen-year old’s bedroom with the right sort of lock on the inside of the door. As far as her mother is aware the lock is to keep out the kid sister. Regina and I know it’s for us. The only time it ever gets used is while dad and daughter are on the job. Times like these, when the rest of our family are awake and about, are the most dangerous when we tend to come quicker than mice. We’ve got a drill we’ve rehearsed in case anyone comes that, thankfully, so far, we’ve not needed, but if by chance there is a knock at the door I will to leap to the desk chair and pretend I’m proofreading an essay while Regina coughs over the sound of the flush bolt that she’ll remove while she’s turning the handle. It’s why I’ve come to her room in loose shorts without any undies and why Regina is wearing a skirt and T-shirt without any bra.

“So what’s up?” I ask as I enter.

“I’m horny.”

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“Any reason?”

“You know.”

“The forty-hour nude famine tomorrow?” I ask her.

“Are you going nude?” she asks me.

“I have to. The other teachers at work have pledged money.”

“So that means…”

“I know. I’ll be naked all day with your sister.”

I put my reading glasses on her desk with the homework she put there as our alibi, if we need to move fast. When I turn around she’s on the bed with her skirt gathered under her navel, my cue to release daddy’s stiff jonny from the right leg of my shorts.

“Hmm,” I say, motioning for her to lift up her T-shirt. If I didn’t tell she would never remember.

We begin with some open mouthed high school style kissing, like I see my students doing at discos, followed by a routine inspection for breast lumps. The only lumps I’ve ever found are two pea sized clusters of cells right in the middle of her pink areola. I roll them on my tongue, yet again, to confirm they’ve not grown. “I’m pretty sure they’re just nipples,” I tell her. It’s the same old joke I say every time, before returning my mouth to her lips—kissing still feels like the most radical thing a father can do with his daughter, even more than the genital contact, if you ask me.

Closing her lips on any more tongue she says, “Can you feel for any changes in my girl-flower daddy?”

“You know I will, always.” Each outer then inner lip is slid through my fingers. “These are okay. You’re nice and wet for your daddy this time.”

“It’s tomorrow,” she groans. “I wish still went to school.”

“You should be a teacher,” I tell her.

“Daddy. My clitoris. It’s ready to be checked now as well.”

That was fast. Usually she’s not ready for that for some time. Rolling my thumb on her bullet I tell her, “Regina. It’s fine. It’s just normal swelling because you’re with your daddy doing bad things.”

“What’s it like daddy, being in a class full of girls in the nude?”

“Surprisingly easy, I tell her.” Her mocking smile forces me to give detail: “They’re easier to control. Surely you found that at your school last year?”

“No. We had a woman teacher. We talked and mucked up the whole day.”

“Oh,” I say. “Girls must behave better for men.”

“Do you do the whole class with your jonny out daddy?”

“I have to!”

“What if it’s like this though?” she asks, rolling her thumb in a glistening drop at the eye.

“I sit at my desk with my legs crossed,” I tell her.

“That’s a waste.”

“I don’t think a class full of girls want to see their teacher with a stiff penis, Regina.”

She says, “You’ve got the windows blocked out. Why wouldn’t you let them?”

“Because, silly billy, someone might tell, then daddy would not have a job.” The eye of her cunt is winking at the much smaller eye of its friend, daddy’s penis, inviting him in for a visit.

With her last breath before being silenced she tells me: “No one would tell. The other girls would find out who she was and drive her to kill herself daddy. You should be more trusting of girls.”

COLLAPSE

About the Author

In their physical details, taboo acts can sometimes be no different from boring old honeymoon love scenes, but that's not my main focus. What fascinates me are relational details, or the way girls do their makeup, or the way incest is bass jumping compared to other sex that's just cricket. Why is that? It's precisely because of the fear. In the arts that fear is called The Sublime. You might feel it in your chest when you read me.

Please, reach out to me however you can. I want to work with you to provide unique reading experiences and valuable products that you will store and return to again and again.


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