The age of consent was lowered to one-and-a-half on Tuesday. Incest was decriminalised on Wednesday. By Friday morning, rape was no longer a crime.

The country was slow to react. There were no street parades. There were no riots. Stores weren't looted. Nobody was shot, hung or set on fire. Life went on, slowly turning, slowly evolving. By the following Wednesday, one week after the changes were announced and legislated, the newspaper editorials recanted their initial opposition to the changes and enthusiastically endorsed them.

"These monumental modifications to our country's antiquated sex laws will put an end to the sexual repression which is slowly destroying this country," wrote the Editor-in-Chief of the Capitol City Courier-Mail. Public response to the editorial was unanimously in favour.

Alan Pal was stuck in traffic with his six-year-old daughter Claire, a shy, introverted girl, when he first heard the news. Quite frankly, he thought his ears were playing tricks. He turned up the radio and listened with intense interest as the government's decision -- "the first gun fired in the war against sexual repression" -- was detailed. It was incredible. Unbelievable. Too good to be true. The truth was, Alan had fantasised about screwing and sucking his little blonde daughter's slit ever since his wife Brenda had brought her home from the hospital. There had been many a night when he had stood over the child's sleeping body with his erection in his hand, debating whether to push it into her mouth or paint her face with his semen. He had even rubbed his cock against her face once while she was sleeping, but he had never dared to touch her while she was awake, fearing harsh reprisals from his wife and society in general. But now that the age of consent had been lowered, the reality of finally burying his cock in Claire's sweet pussy was suddenly much closer. Alan also considered that he had a three-year-old, Jane, who liked nothing more than to climb onto daddy's lap in her see-through nightie.

How the fuck was Stan Kurts supposed to concentrate on teaching Math with Christina Miles sitting directly in front of him? The little bitch had been teasing him all year, tempting him with her small, ripe, thirteen-year-old breasts and her slim, white, creamy thighs. Her skirts, for Christ's sake, barely covered her hips, let alone her ass. And when she spread her legs in front of him, it was clearer than an azure sky in deepest summer that the dirty little whore either shaved her pussy or was a slow developer in that area. Kurts had, up to now, resisted Christina's less than subtle advances, reminding himself that he had a wife, an eight year old daughter, a secure job and a mortgage. He knew that any move he made towards the girl was akin to fucking suicide. But when Kurts picked up the paper on Friday morning and read that the government had decriminalised rape, his lips formed a broad, devious smile and his cock began to stiffen. Christina Miles was now in his sights. The next time the little tease flashed her cotton panties at him, he wouldn't be thinking about his mortgage.

Susan Paris had just gotten her oldest daughter off to school. The house was quiet once again. Too quiet, actually. Susan equated the quiet with her loneliness, and that wasn't healthy. Quiet could be therapeutic, she'd read, but that didn't take the ache away. David, her husband, left a year ago with another man. Susan had caught them both in bed. The other man's cock was buried deep in David's anus at the time. Stevie, David's ten-year-old son from his first marriage, was lying on the bed between the two men, his legs raised and spread as David licked his hairless asshole and masturbated his balls. The boy had a massive erection and was grinning from ear to ear. That surprised Susan. Perhaps she'd expected the ten-year-old to be unhappy and tearful. Afterall, sexually active children were abused children, weren't they? They were supposed to be unhappy. Why, then, had Stevie appeared so relaxed and content? It certainly contradicted the popular belief that the "experts" promoted.

Her first reaction to the discovery had been to call the police. She had even picked the phone up and dialled the first two numbers. Then she'd stopped herself and smashed the phone against the bedroom door, shattering it. Her second reaction was to pack her bags and drive away with Emma, her oldest daughter, and Melody, her two-year-old. That plan had lasted exactly thirty seconds. Instead, Susan had stormed back into the bedroom and ordered David to leave. "And take Stevie with you," she had added, staring once again at the boy's erect, hairless penis. Two hours later, David and Stevie were gone. David's lover, a man named Brett, had dropped a business card on his way out. Susan had picked the card up, read it and decided against throwing it away.

It took five months for Susan to admit to herself that her ten-year-old stepson's cock had turned her on that day. What had pissed her off most was that David had it and she didn't. She'd wanted to join the three of them on the bed. She had wanted to lick Stevie's asshole, too, and suck his cock, and even drink his cum. Seeing Brett's cock in her husband's rectum had turned her on, too. At the time, she had been too shell-shocked to focus on her real desires, too hurt. Her reaction had been a knee-jerk one. And she'd paid the price for it with loneliness. But whenever Susan replayed the scene in her mind now, she would recast herself in the David position and Stevie in the Brett position. Stevie's cock was in her asshole and she was licking Brett's anus. David wasn't part of the scene anymore because she was still angry with him. She was angry mostly because he'd hidden his sexuality from her.

Eight months after the break-up, Susan's anger at David began to dissolve. The fact was, though David had been guilty of keeping secrets, she was guilty also. Though it hurt like hell to fess up to her hypocrisy, it hurt more not to. For the last eight years, Susan had harboured a secret desire for her daughters. Her initial attraction to Emma, her eight-year-old, had begun soon after Emma was born. She was, like all mothers, constantly changing, bathing and attending to the girl. She lathered soothing creams on the child's vulva when she developed rashes and she was always diligently cleaning, soaping and powdering the child's anus. Her sexual feelings developed slowly and manifested themselves through light touching and rubbing at first. Susan became aware that she was not only touching Emma's slit constantly, but she was staring at it and seeing it as a sexual toy. Before Emma turned one, Susan had taken over one hundred polaroids of the girl's vagina and bottomhole. She stashed the photos in a box in Emma's closet and masturbated constantly to them.

Susan fantasised daily about kissing Emma's vagina and licking her asshole. She found herself licking her fingers after changing Emma. When the girl started wearing panties, Susan would take them from the wash basket and constantly sniff them, licking the dried discharge from the crotches. And to think that she threw David out for licking his son's asshole, something she, ironically, would have killed to do......(cont)