I guess you'd have to call me a family girl. At any rate, I was never happier than when our evenings were free and I was able just to be home with my own family in the fine old-fashioned mansion in the green-lawn suburb outside Indianapolis ... especially when my own beloved father was poking his prick so sweetly in and out of my pulping pussy.
Those of my brothers and sisters who were also present were also happy at home ... especially since the Martin family's profession kept all of us on the road for a full five months of the year. They were really my half-brothers and sisters, as most of them were to each other, but we never thought of ourselves that way. If ever there was a family close knit by bonds of love and mutual interest, it was ours ... in fact, I don't think there was ever a more loving family in the history of the entire world ...
* * *
There, in the early autumn evening, with a fire roaring and crackling cheerily in the large old-fashioned living room, with its fringed curtains and comfortable overstuffed furniture, everyone was amusing himself after his or her fashion. My beautiful big brother Terry had our lovely sister Leona lying prone atop a tall table with her long hair hanging over each side like a pair of rivers of gold, and was rolling his ebon-hued loins to match the rotation of her luscious, peach-colored buttocks, his big black prick embedded to the hilt in her churning cunt from behind.
Casting my eyes in another direction, my Alaskan-part-Eskimo brother Malamute (Mal for short) was enjoying a lingering lingual sixty-nine with coal-black Donna, whose coral-pink tongue was leaping up and down and around his blunt, thick codpiece like a goldfish at play around a piece of nougat candy ... while, on a big bearskin rug in front of the hearth, my magnificent Hawaiian brother Duke was giving silver-blonde, ebulliently built Jill, a happy ride with his super-prick. The flickering firelight created fascinating highlights and shadow-play on her big bouncing boobs as she squatted on his heaving saddle, uttering happy little streams of obscenities as her spasms followed one another in machine gun-like succession.
All in all, it was a typical quiet evening at home for such of the Martin family as was in residence at the Indianapolis headquarters. As usual, we had worked hard during the day in preparation for our coming tour ... me harder than anybody, since I was new to the Martins and had an awful lot to learn. We had dined well on a beautiful baron of beef with all the appropriate side dishes and now all we wanted was to take things easy and relax and have fun until Mother Nature called us to bed.
Daddy named this our "Time of Love" and he could hardly have expressed it better ...
But with all this happiness around me, I had to be the happiest of all ... for Daddy, for the third straight night, had selected me to first feel the penetration of his magnificent cock with its irresistible curve to the left about halfway up its eight-inch length, a curve that put indescribably delicious pressure on any part of a girl's tunnel of love, depending on the angle at which she set her cunt to his thrusting cock.
On this occasion, I lay on my right side along the top of a refectory table, with my crotch just overlapping one end. Daddy stood right behind me, slowly sinking his delightful dong in and out of the juice-filled cavity of my cunt ... and in this position, the curve of his cock already mentioned pushed against the roots of my clit from within and made me gasp and sigh with its every insertion and half-withdrawal ... nor was my pleasure lessened by the firm grip of his strong, supple right hand on the inside of my right thigh, which he held high to increase his penetration of my creaming coozy, while, with the fingers of his left hand, he naughtily toyed with my clit to add a bonus fillip to the waves of ecstasy his slowly plunging prick inspired in my juicing young body.
As an especially violent storm of delight racked me, I stiffened and groaned and grabbed hold of the edges of the table lest I roll off in my transports of rapture ... and then began driving my cunt down on the roots of his impaling prong, feeling absolutely overwhelmed with my flooding delight. Since it was Daddy's first piece of the evening (we had little time for fucking during the day) my activity brought his prick to a boil, which was perhaps a good thing since the pleasure it was giving me was so intense I would probably have passed out if it had continued much longer ... and what good is fucking when you can't feel it?
I jammed my crotch down on the base of his cock, savoring the juncture of our sopping wet pubic hairs and the final slap of his balls against the inner curves of my sweetly shuddering buttocks. And then his darling dong was leaping like a living trout in my stream and then adding to its contents with a burst of sperm that seemed to drown first my delirious womb and then to trickle slowly down the entire length of my vagina to add to the juices already making a swamp of my crotch ...
Although the fucking stamina of the Martin men is phenomenal, when we are all together, we have a seldom-spoken agreement never to go for doubles save under very special circumstances and with the agreement of all the other girls present ... that way, nobody gets shorted with her share of any of the pricks in the family. While this occasion was special enough for me (and, I hoped sincerely and from the bottom of my heart, for Daddy), I knew getting the instant consent of Donna, Jill and Leona, especially busy and happy as they were, would be out of the question ...
So, with a sigh, I let our action grind slowly to a halt. Daddy has always been very considerate about not pulling out of a girl's cunt after he's sent its owner really winging, until she has come down out of orbit and won't be left halfway up the wall. Once again, he made it easy and gentle, and when his half-masted prick pulled out of the morass of my flooded hole, I felt no more than a mild sadness that it was gone.
Daddy helped me up from the table and we adjourned to the downstairs bathroom to clean ourselves off ... for, though I would have been more than happy to clean the sexsap and semen from my father's cock and crotch with my tongue, he could hardly have done the same for me without merely increasing my flood of pussyjuice. So we showered, lovingly but holding things under wraps, and toweled each other off ... trying not to overdo the rubdown on each other's fucking pieces ... and then returned to the living room.
The others, except for Jill and Duke on the bearskin rug in front of the fire, who were having a marathon run, had finished their fucking for the time being and followed our example in going to the John for post-coital repairs. Daddy poured himself a glass of rich red Burgundy from a carafe on the coffee table in front of the matching sofa on which our naked bodies reposed and regarded me fondly and thoughtfully for a moment.
Then he said, "You have undoubtedly wondered why I am keeping you so close to my side, Robin."
I massaged my boobs, which were itching for further fondling, and said, "Not really ... after all, I do have a lot to learn about the family operation. I've only been with you all seven weeks, so..." I let it trail off and then rubbed my naked flesh against his and gave his dormant prick a gentle squeeze.
"Besides," I added, resting my auburn-topped head against his shoulder, "I love you, Daddy, very, very much..."
He slid an arm around me and hugged me close to his side, one of his strong sensitive hands slipping through my armpit to mash my right tit almost flat against my chest and causing my pink nipples to come to instant attention. As this happened, I could feel his darling dong begin to stiffen within the hollow of my hand, lengthening until its proud purple crown poked its way up through the circle of my right thumb and forefinger, thickening so that the circle these digits had been making became barely more than a half circle.
Whatever Daddy had been about to tell me was forgotten as we both felt a surge of utterly irresistible desire to renew our fucking, rules or no rules, code or no code, custom or no custom ... but we reckoned without the lovely, long-limbed flamboyant black sister Donna, who returned from her shower, her raven-hued satin skin still covered with droplets of water that glistened like diamonds in the firelight.
Coming around the end of the sofa on which we were still sitting, and discovering what was happening, she gathered herself and pounced like a black panther with a cry of, "Oh no, you don't ... not with our daddy you don't!"
like Terry, her full brother, Donna was long and lean and deliciously black ... yet with all the undulant if not wholly opulent curves a girl (or a man who covets her) could wish. Landing hard against Daddy from the other side, she used her greater strength to pull him clear of my embrace. The hand that was mashing my tit so delectably was yanked clear of my body, even as his burgeoning prick was drawn free from the palm and fingers of my right hand. I had to let go in that department or risk pulling Daddy's darling dong right out by the roots.
Her white teeth flashing in her lovely black face as she uttered a low laugh of triumph, Donna pushed him back flat on the sofa and mounted him with a twisting, supple lift of her body that revealed the bright pink lining of her labia as her cunt hovered briefly, wide open, above the royal purple prow of his prick. Then, with a corkscrewing down-thrust of her pelvis, Donna encompassed that organ of ecstasy completely, blotting it from my view with the most intimate flesh of her dynamic black body. Her natural hairstyle bobbed and rolled atop her lovely head like a black chrysanthemum caught in a hurricane, and she bore down on Daddy with a fervor that suggested, quite falsely by the way, that she had never had our father's curving scimitar of prick in her hyperactive cunt before.
As she began to sweat with the vehemence of their fucking ... for Daddy was giving at least as good as he received, the black satin hide of her abdomen picked up bright blue highlights that danced with every undulation she engaged in ... undulations worthy of any belly dancer who ever lived. Her high-cast boobs bounced tirelessly on her rib cage and the grinding of her cunt on Daddy's cock was so persistent that only briefly did she lift sufficiently to expose as much as an inch of the root of his stalk, and then only for the merest flashes.
When it did appear, it was liberally coated with the rich white of her cream, matching the hue of her loins and his, from which the pussy-juice was being squeezed each time she tightened her muscles around his turgid dong in her churning depths.
As both Daddy and her brother Terry had told me, and as I was now seeing for myself, sister Donna was an unpredictable piece of butt. Sometimes, she would lie with a cock in her cunt, fucking lazily for an hour or more without a break. On other occasions, such as this one, she could be a tiger in heat, demanding come after come of her partners and seeming to be utterly insatiable. The only thing anyone could be sure of was that, whatever her mood and behavior, she was a terrific lay.
As with everybody else in this remarkably talented and happy family ... we loved to fuck above all else, even sucking. And we loved to fuck each other most of all. Of course, the one all us kids desired the most was Daddy. After all, he was king ... not only king of the hills, reigning over every mons veneris within the family circle, but unquestionably the most, whether fucking or doing anything else. His quiet, entirely justified, confidence, had to be encountered to be believed. He ... well, that's what this part of my story is mostly about.
I didn't have a chance to watch much more of their fucking, because, in short order, I became entirely engaged on my own account. To get out of the way of the wild action of Donna and Daddy on the sofa, I had perched myself on one arm, with my feet on the sofa cushions and my elbows on my knees, my chin in my fists, the better to enjoy the spectacle, t had not occurred to me that, thus leaning forward, I had left my own cunt wide open for the onslaught of the first stiff prick that passed behind me ... nor, had I thought on the matter, would I have had it otherwise. After all, in the privacy of the family circle, what else is a cunt for?
Powerful hands went around me and pulled me backward. For a moment, I thought I was about to be dumped on the carpet. But as I was pulled backward, something long and thick and slightly pliable, rather like a snake or a length of living garden hose, was slid adroitly up into my well-greased tunnel of lust until it passed the tender flanges at the gates of my womb and lodged, in part, in my uterus.
"Guess who?" said a voice above and behind me as the same powerful hands began making my rump dance around the lithe and limber spear that impaled it.
I didn't even need to see that the hands grasping my middle from the rear were black to know that it was Donna's big and beautiful full brother and my half-brother, Terry Martin, who was fucking me. I knew that Hamitic prick all too well, even from this unusual angle of incidence. My heaving flesh seemed to turn to steam at the prospect of the pleasures immediately in front of me ... or, in this case, ought I to say behind me?
At any rate, I played a little game with him, asking, "Is it Mal?" ... then, "Is it Duke?" ... then, "Is it Daddy?"
Each time I guessed wrong, I'd give my rump a fillip and he'd ram that big, long dong of his right back into my guts, having let it slide out about halfway between strokes. By then, game time was over and we were off to the races together. Lifting me clear of the sofa-arm, with his Hamitic prick buried deep in my pulping guts, holding me close to him by maintaining his grip . around my waist, he let me down over a hassock to one side of the big fireplace, so that my midsection was supported and my rump well elevated for continued penetrating by his Hamitic dick.
Hamitic, in case you hadn't heard, means African, and a Hamitic dick was what brother Terry had in copious quantity as well as quality. The great point of variance between a Hamitic prick and an Indo-European penis is that, in some fortunate instances, there is almost no variation in the length of that organ of masculine love whether erect or in repose ... and this in the best sense of the idea. Which means that a girl can get a full cuntload of African cock even when it isn't actually erect. All she has to do is stuff it up into her hole and let nature do the rest ...
It's not really better than the white variety, of course, but each has its advantages ... and disadvantages. For one, the Hamitic prick never gets quite as stiff as that of the white man when up to his best. On the other hand, there's never any sweat for a girl in getting it up into her tunnel even when it's taking a siesta or something.
Add love to this kind of a cock ... and Terry and I adored one another ... and you've really got something to write home about to mother. Add an extra bonus of intimate mutual acquaintance and good powerhouse animal lust working both ways ... and you've got some to cherish for life with the gold stars you got in Sunday school. Anyway, what I mean is ... Terry and I gave each other a real double-fucking.
He had the most adorable little trick when he came ... not that other men haven't tried it, or something like it, with me, but somehow it seemed to work better with Terry's prick and my cunt. When he was ready to spurt the sperm into me, he put both hands on my buttocks and pulled them wide apart. This enabled him to poke right into the top of my womb with the head of his prick, just as he let go with his emission, and enabled him to give me the added bonus of running his thumbs up and down on my cuntal lips around the root of his pulsing stalk, even while he diddled my tight little arsehole with his forefinger tips.
This extra-added attraction sent me into a succession of spasms that almost caused me to dive right over the hassock over which he had me doubled, but his prong was in me too deep and too strongly for me to fly loose from its impalement. My pleasure was so intense, though, that when he pulled his dripping black prong out of my sopping wet hole, I actually went limp over the leather-covered cushion that held me up from the carpet, and came very close to passing out.
But, because I am young and healthy and resilient and get all the exercise a girl needs in fucking alone, I made a swift comeback and was soon able to sit up and look around. Donna and Daddy were still humping but had fallen or rolled off the sofa and were busily fucking away on the thick Persian carpet that covered most of the big living room floor. Leona and brother Duke were just climaxing in a stand-up fuck in one of the bay window seat recesses, with my beautiful golden-blonde sister standing on the step so that our Kanaka brother did not have to go into an unsightly squat to get his dong up into her juicing cunt. They were doing a sort of samba together, their naked bodies shining with one another's sweat, that a pair of cariocas from a beach in Rio might well have envied.
As for Jill and Mal, they had had enough of sucking, and my bouncing-boobed high-yellow sister, with the silvery curls and pussy to match, rolled clear and bridged her body high from the carpet with her legs wide, offering Mal an invitation he was not slow to accept.
As his spit-covered prick slid into sister Jill's gaping haven of happiness and their hairs collided, there was a wet-smacking sort of sound that indicated how happily their fucking pieces were joined. His Eskimo-slit eyes narrowed until they were almost invisible as he drove his blunt-tipped dong in and out of the luscious moving target his sister was offering him so freely.
This time the four of us who were between fucks ... Duke and Leona and Terry and I ... shared the bathroom together. It was not as big as the main bathroom upstairs, which was equipped for lovemaking as well as the more usual functions, but it did have a much needed bidet and the John was separated from the rest of the room with a nubble-glass wall. There were also twin washbasins and an oval raised tub and a stall shower.
Since Leona and Terry got into the shower first, Duke and I decided to inaugurate a share-the-tub movement. As we got into it, with the warm water splashing around us, I admired again not only his handsome Hawaiian face, but that beautiful golden-brown body with the smooth satin flesh rippling over muscles made long and strong and limber by water sports since he was a baby on one of the lesser known beaches of our nation's fiftieth state.
We sat facing each other, and our legs interlaced beneath the surface and we laughed and hugged and tongued and teased and kissed until the crown of his prick broke the surface of the water from below ... and then, somehow and almost without conscious bidding, feeling deliciously refreshed and clean, my legs spread and slid over his and around his waist and my body was drawn up onto his thighs and then, with both of us pushing down on it, that beautiful bronze prick was no longer idly up-periscoping in the empty air but was running a snorkel right up into my thrusting tunnel of lust ...
Thus, deliciously united and with my boobs gathered flat against Duke's almost hairless chest, my Hawaiian brother and I settled down to a dreamy, lazy-man's sort of incest, neither of us attempting to dominate the other but just lying back and reveling in the delights our united fucking pieces sent through our singing young bodies ...
CHAPTER TWO
Duke and I were so happy with our bathtub fucking that we forgot to turn off the water ... and just as he sent his sperm winging into my excruciatingly pleasure-bent womb an arm and hand the color of cafe au lait entered my frame of vision and did the job ... just as the deliciously warm water was on the verge of lapping over the rim of the oval tub. When I emerged from the golden cloud of rapture, I looked right up into sister Jill's cunt with its extravagantly full mound just above capped by short silver-dyed curls that matched those on her lovely plump head.
She laughed down at us from between the ebullient coffee-tipped gloves of her boobs and said, "What are you two trying to do ... wash out the whole family?"
Mal, who was standing behind her with his Eskimo-yellow arms circling her brown waist and his cock separating the cheeks of his sister's plump buttocks, said, "Oh, for a big cake of ice."
Duke smiled up at him and said, "Mal, you're a five-flushing phony ... the only cakes of ice you ever want to see again are the cubes in a highball glass. As an Eskimo, you'd make a good Hawaiian beach-boy, fourth class."
"At least I wouldn't drown," replied our Alaskan Eskimo brother, referring to an incident at a California beach when Duke had been caught in a cross rip and had to be fished out by the lifeguards.
"All right, all right ... " Duke brushed it off. "How about it, darling Jill ... you ready to go a round with me?"
"Just as soon as I get my pussy washed out." She plumped herself down on the bidet and turned on the water jets that flushed her bottom.
Mal fished me out of the tub and held my dripping body full against his sweat-covered one. He may not be built like a football hero ... his body is shaped more like a kayak ... but he's sleek and strong as a bull seal. And when he feels like fucking, which is about ninety-nine and forty-four hundredths percent of the time, he can really make a girl as happy as a lark.
He hugged me and I reached down between our bellies for his prick, which was rising to its action station. It was still nubbly from his and Jill's sex-saps, so I dropped to my knees and savored the blend of exotic flavors that covered it while licking it clean for further employment. He stood there, his sturdy legs parted, looking down on what I was doing to him with a seraphic expression and his eyes once more closed to mere slits.
I always like to give a little more than the occasion demands where fucking or sucking is concerned, so I really did a rim-job on this exotic spawn of our mutual father. I coddled his balls with my left hand and coddled the lower portion of his cock with the right ... the upper portion was the province of my lips, mouth, tongue and teeth. Mal has a good thick stiff prick, long enough but with no bulge at the crown. Instead, it is almost flat on top when erect, like a cylinder. But its taste is delicious, even with the pussyjuice and semen licked clean, and he-likes to have me munch on it gently.
I did the job so well that, suddenly, he was pushing my red head away with both hands and his delightful dong throbbed in the unmistakable prelude to orgasm. But it was too late to get it into my well-juiced cunt in time, so I just shook my head and hung on ... and the act of shaking it brought him to ejaculation that much the quicker. I swallowed his sperm, thinking that this divine fluid had to be the real nectar of the Ancient Greek gods ... no, not the goddesses alone from what Daddy has told me of the bisexual habits of the males who dwelt on Olympus, to say nothing of their fondness for transforming themselves into animals or birds for the sake of a little variety in their fucking and sucking routines.
When I removed my mouth from his spent prick, Mal looked down at its dwindling length ruefully, then at me and said, "That's what I call overdoing things."
"Sorry, darling," I said, rising and giving this dear brother a hug. "I guess I just got carried away."
He slid thick fingers into my cleft and began diddling my clit and juicing cunt and said, "It may take me a couple of minutes, darling Robin. You seem to have shot me down."
"Oh, honey!" I pressed myself tight against his sleek facade and began rubbing my boobs and belly and mound on his well-padded flesh. "I can't wait."
"It won't be long ... promise..." he said.
"It's not long now," I told him. "At least, not long enough."
By this time, I had taken hold of his semi-limp dong and was working on it, kneading it like a piece of dough, tickling it, squeezing it, doing everything I could think of to restore its pristine glory. Over his shoulder, I could see that Jill was fucking her black brother Terry, who was sitting on the John. The nubbly glass door of the cabinet was open, and her buttocks were lifting and falling around the black shaft in her creaming coozy like the walking beam on an old-fashioned river steamer in a Currier & Ives print.
All of a sudden, I wanted out of there. I'd been fucked on a table by Daddy and over a hassock by Terry, in the tub by Duke ... I wanted to go somewhere that I could just lie on my back in comfort while Mal or somebody ran a fine full stiff prick in and out of my hole. My hip was sore from the table, my belly felt strained from the hassock, my butt ached from the porcelain bottom of the tub.
I mean, can fucking can be fun when you're in the mood for naughtiness ... but, under the best of erotic circumstances, it simply is not the most romantic locale for the all-out making of love. I wriggled clear of Mal's embrace and, still holding onto his semi-soft stick, led him back into the living room, where Daddy was screwing daughter Leona on the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace while Terry and Donna were making like a double chocolate malt on one of the big sofas.
Daddy and Leona were enjoying one of my favorite positions, leaning back on their arms with her legs athwart his and their fucking pieces joined so that both of them could see all the action. Father and daughter looked so beautiful and so happy as they wriggled their intersticed crotches in perfect harmony, that I longed for a movie camera to record their bliss for posterity.
The firelight picked up the white pussyjuice that oozed from my golden-haired sister's hole around her father's deeply embedded cock, making it sparkle like mother-of-pearl, and her lovely long hair of spun gold gave the entire incestuous operation a sort of homey pre-Raphaelite look.
Donna was bending over with her black hands braced flat against the wall while her equally black brother rammed his long dong in and out of her juicing hole from the rear. The wild contortions of her buttocks, which bounced and thrust and bobbed and weaved, suggested the violence of her reaction to her full brother's plunging prick so happily housed in the hot hole between them.
I watched both couples until I was brought back to my own situation by the stiffening of the dick I held tightly gripped in my right hand. Turning and looking up at my Alaskan brother, I said, "I want to lie down and have you on top of me."
"Position one?" he said, his narrow eyes widening. "That would be a novelty in this family ... "
The window seat was wide and cushioned, offering us ample space for what we both had in mind. Just as, once in a while I am told, a seasoned gourmet tires of imagine French dishes and longs for a cheeseburger or a hot dog, so I was fed up with the extraordinary antics to which we of the Martin family were at times driven by the urge to bring variety to our deliciously full sex lives. I only wanted to lie on my back and fuck like a teenager lucky enough to get out of the back seat of the family car with her boyfriend.
Although the window-seat cushion was not the world's thickest, it felt like a swansdown lined mattress after the hard surfaces on which I had been screwing that evening. I lay flat on my back and laid my hands on either side of Mal's loins as he moved into my saddle, opening my thighs and pushing my crotch upward toward the blunt head of his yellow-brown prick as he aimed it for my hole. Then, pushing down on it with the fingertips of each hand, I directed it a little beneath my lubricated cunt so that, when I lifted my hands, it snapped upward and into me like a snake springing successfully at its prey.
We both thrust slowly forward, rendering our union complete, and his arms slid under my shoulders, with his hands palm upward and his belly lay flat on mine and his chest pressed pleasantly on my gravity-flattened boobs. I widened my thighs still further and rested my heels on the little hollows in the backs of his knees, and then we kissed and our lips and tongues seemed to flow together into a single delicious whole...
Thanks to the fuckings he had already received from Jill and Leona, to say nothing of the rim-jobs Donna and I had done on his dick, Mal was slow to come with me ... which did not make our window-seat session any the worse. In fact, his dilatory reactions gave me time to play all number of little tricks to the satisfaction of my own sensual cravings while drawing no complaints from my Eskimo brother.
I got things going slowly, keeping his tubular cock buried deep in my tunnel of lust, rotating my crotch gently to get my juices really flowing, reveling in the fine full occupancy of my creaming coozy by such a stalwart dong. Then I hit him hard for a few minutes, bringing myself to a delicious overboil, reveling not only in the feel of his cock in my driving, gyrating cunt but finding added fillips in the perfumes of sex that arose from the area where our fucking pieces were so deliciously joined.
Then, when I had successfully reached Cloud Twelve or so and my every nerve-end was singing in radiant harmony, I let myself cast for a while, savoring the sweet squishiness of my cunt and the slight stickiness of its fluids around the piston sliding in and out of it to a regular beat. Then, when I was wholly satisfied, I pick up the tempo once again, driving my cunt upward around his throbbing prick to beat on the door of his jock, coming from every angle my crotch could encompass, until I felt he was ready and knew I was.
He flattened full out on me then, his weight grinding my body deliciously into the cushion that covered the window seat under my backside. His strokes became deep and long and his weight all but crushed me and inhibited the wild automatic action of my pelvis ... so I locked my legs tight around his plunging rump and drove my bottom up and around again and again until, at last, I felt the fierce spurt of his semen deep in my core and letting my legs fall apart while he remained fully embedded in my dripping cunt, lying perfectly still until, long moments after, my madness was dissipated like a low morning mist.
* * *
When we separated, we saw that this phase of the evening was over. Daddy was sitting on the sofa with Leona and Jill, while Donna reclined with Duke and Terry. All were smoking and sipping red Burgundy, and when we had showered (and I had used the bidet) we joined them. Talk was general until every glass was empty.
Then Daddy looked at me, perched on the hassock over which brother Terry had fucked me so fiercely earlier, and smiled at me with a fond parental smile that made his handsome face glow from within with love and said, "Darling Robin, I want you with me tonight." And, to the others, "I'm sure you can all find diversion in the dormitory. ... all I ask is that you get some rest. We have a full day ahead of us tomorrow."
The other three girls showed disappointment in their various ways ... for all of them would willingly give their eyeteeth (except for Jill, who lost hers and wears a bridge) to spend a night alone with Daddy. Generally, he took two of us to bed with him, sweetly and thoughtfully servicing them one at a time.
Jill wrinkled her pert brown nose in disappointment, Donna looked sad and a bit sullen. Only beautiful golden-haired Leona, who could get jealous over Daddy at the drop of a French tickler, actually said anything, her tone tinged tartly with jealousy.
"How come she gets a call, Daddy, when she's the newest of us all?"
He quelled her with a look and said, "I have a great deal to discuss with Robin, kids ... I shouldn't have to remind you of the amount of business that still remains to be done before we go on tour."
Leona said, "Hah! Some business ... with a goodly bit of. the chimpanzee involved if I know you two ... and I do!"
Daddy just looked at her, and her angry lavender eyes met his until he said, "Would you like to miss your next turn, my dear. It would be my loss, but in the interests of ... "
Her eyes fell. She said, "Oh, all right ... but I still don't think it's fair."
Daddy smiled and went over and gave her a kiss and squeezed her beautiful big boobs one by one. Her arms went around his neck and her lovely naked body followed his upward as he stood and she began rubbing her pussy against his jock. For a moment, I thought she was going to get him as I saw his pecker stiffen between her grinding hips and his ... but then he held her gently but firmly away from him, avoiding the cuntal thrusts she made in an effort to capture his marvelous curved cock for herself.
"Duke ... Terry!" he said. "Take care of her." And, as the two young powerhouses pulled her reluctant body from that of our father, "Leona, you've just lost your turn. There has to be some discipline."
"Fuck discipline!" Leona yelled, her lovely face a mask of fury. "I want to fuck you, Daddy."
He had his arm around my naked body by this time and turned to reply, "And so you shall, my little golden spitfire ... let's see, that will be next Thursday night."
There were sounds of struggling and curses as we walked from the living room, and a small pot containing geraniums crashed against the door-jamb just as we passed through it, crashing to pieces and spattering our unclad rumps with dirt. Daddy never turned around but led me across the hall to the big staircase with the stained glass window on the landing halfway to the second floor of the fine old mansion.
He said quietly, once we were out of earshot, "Sometimes, Leona's possessiveness causes me concern."
Because I love Leona and was feeling a bit guilty about robbing her of her rotation night with Daddy (although it had been Daddy's doing, not mine), I said, "It's only because she loves you so much, darling Daddy. She can't help it."
"I may have to send her on assignment," he said. "There's plenty to be done in the field."
"But not," I said, "until she's had her night with you. Otherwise, she might do something silly."
"You're right, of course, dear Robin," he said and, as always, the term of endearment made my cunt cream. "She's certainly quite a bedful. But, to paraphrase that same young lady just now, fuck Leona. I really do have much to discuss with you, Robin."
"I know," I said, hugging his arm tightly so that my near boob was sweetly squashed against its lean muscular hardness. All the same, I felt a pang of disappointment that he had not summoned me to his bed alone for the sole reason that he wanted to fuck me all night alone. I'd have been less than female had I not felt thus.
Still, a night alone with my own father was something to flood my coozy ... no matter what the circumstances. Thanks to our week or so alone in the Kernstown motel, when he first claimed me from my foster father and real mother (who was also his sister) in nearby Riverville, I was quite sure that our night alone together would not be entirely sexless. Nor did the event prove me wrong ...
Daddy's bedroom looks as chaste as a well-conditioned abbot's monastery bedroom. Save for the fact that one whole wall is a picture window and louvered glass door, looking out on a balcony that, in turn, looks out on the lovely garden of the old mansion, its walls are innocent of decoration. The floor is covered with thick carpeting and the only apparent article of furniture is an emperor-sized Hollywood bed adorned with a spread of cool green damask thrown over sheets and blankets of bright vermilion. The walls are a rich dark blue, perfectly plain to the uneducated eye. There are no chairs, no pictures to be seen on entering Daddy's chamber. Even the door to the wardrobe-lined dressing room and to the opulent bath beyond cannot be seen or found unless the visitor knows the proper button to push.
There is a battery of such buttons, set flush with the wall above the headboard, and when we lay down, Daddy pressed one he had never pressed for me before. An oval niche opened in the wall opposite the foot of the big bed, a niche illuminated indirectly from below. Within its soft burnt orange glow stood an alabaster symbol, a beautifully carved-likeness of the erect male phallus whose every detail was expressed from the bulb-like uncircumcised tip with its tiny spout-spire to the double mound of the testides wherein its symbolic seed was stored. Its translucent surfaces seemed actually to shimmer in the light when I moved my head slightly the better to study it.
"Dear Robin," said Daddy in his wonderful deep voice, "you know what that is..."
"I ought to," I replied. "I've been fucking them since, I was eleven years old. That's a male prick, up and ready to go ... or come."
In the dim light, Daddy winced slightly at my cornball joke. But he did not reprove me, merely said, "That is the priapic image in its purest and most ancient form. The original of that statue lies in the special rooms, of the museum at Pompeii, the one for which visitors must have permits to view. It was carved by some genius in one of the pre-Christian cities of Hellenic Asia Minor and much later brought to Rome, where some rich connoisseur purchased it and installed it in a place of honor in his summer villa at Pompeii."
I was impressed and said so. Daddy nodded and went on with, "As you know, Priapus is the deity upon which our family cult is reared, the ancient god of lust and love and male fertility and laughter, a partial embodiment of the god Pan, who was actually the embodiment of all nature in its variety and universality. Hence our own Pan-Priapic terminology. , "There is great need of such worship nowadays, when the world has become neurotic slaves to the gadgets of its own people. What is needed to recover harmony is not psychiatry, is not violence, is not toiling over machines or overindulging on vacations ... what is needed is Pan's own remedy, the lingam and yoni or, if you will, the male prick and a pulsing female hole in which to put it, the greatest release, the most marvelous therapy, in the world."
When he paused, I snuggled close to his side and said, "My hole is pulsing, darling Daddy ... "
He slid expert fingers into my cleft, which I opened to render his access the easier, testing the wetness of my cunt and said, "Why so it is, dear Robin, so it is..."
It was my turn to make a move, and I took hold of his magnificent curved saber of a cock and found it long and thin and hard and said, "Lingam, your yoni is awaiting you."
He pulled me close into his arms, half-cradling me and laughing down at me as he swung my body across his lap, increasing my pleasure with the adroit penetration of a thumb into my juicing cunt as he did so. He said, "You little devil. You know, dear Robin, I think I find you the most irresistible of all my lovely daughters."
"Oh, go on!" I said, wriggling to bring his big prick closer to the ripeness of the parking space I had in mind for it. "I'll bet you've said that to every one of them ... and I'll bet you cannot resist them, either. I mean, who'd want to?"
He let me push him back against the pillows piled at the head of the bed and, straddling him, push my creaming coozy slowly down over the long curving fullness of the priapic emblem I worshipped above all others. I knew right then that this was going to be quite a night . ...
CHAPTER THREE
Looking up at me, he stroked my loins, not only increasing my early pleasure but revealing himself ready to put a manual clamp on my bottom should I get out of control. All at once, I realized that this was to be no mere night of sex and sweetness with the prick I adored above all others lodged deep in my pleasure-mad hole ... but a test of my abilities to qualify as a practicing priestess on the Martin family tour. In his lucid way, Daddy proceeded to spell it out for me once more ... though never before had he read me the ritual under actual field conditions, as he was now with his darling dong in my suppurating hotbox.
Holding me perfectly still on his curving spire, he said, "Dearest Robin, you have qualified in every way but one as a full-fledged priestess of Pan-Priapus ... you are young, you are beautiful, you are intelligent, you are a true worshiper of the phallus that is the core and emblem of our cult. In only one department have you proved inadequate."
I murmured a "Yes, Daddy" through clenched teeth, so difficult was I finding it to continue the absolute stillness of body his light but firm touch on my loins demanded.
"Unfortunately, my darling daughter, this is a vital department: that of control over your own body while it contains a lingam in its yoni ... all right, a cock in your cunt. When you perform the actual rites, with adept or acolyte alike, it is essential that you be able to withhold your own ultimate pleasure while bringing your partner to a point where he can render his offering to Pan-Priapus in your womb."
"But, darling Daddy," I said, battling a spasm that racked me from head to toes, "what's the point of giving pleasure without receiving it? I mean, like I'm young and healthy and can go all night ... and all day too if I have to. So why do I have to fuck like a whore?"
"Because," he said firmly, "you are a priestess ... at least I hope you will be a priestess of Pan-Priapus. You may not know this, but the first prostitutes known to mankind were priestesses of various divinities of Central and Western Asia. They were trained from childhood, and in much of the ancient world temple revenues were dependent upon their earnings."
"Daddy," I said when he paused, "why can't I fuck all out without holding back a thing ... the way I always have?"
"Because" (it was his favorite word), "having found you, darling, I have no desire to lose you ... nor do I want Pan-Priapus to lose you to a sanitarium. Child, we need you."
"But Daddy ... I've been fucking and sucking almost every night since I was eleven years old. Why can't I just.. "
He interrupted me, saying, "I know, and I'll always be grateful to your stepfather for starting you so young. But, compared with the fucking you're going to have to do when we're on tour and in session, you've only been playing bean-bag. Twelve hours at a stretch is not unusual ... and without sleep. In that time, you may have to fuck a hundred times. If you gave yourself prodigally, you'd be lucky to last the ten days of a single meeting."
"Gee, Daddy," I said wistfully, barely conquering another minor orgasm that threatened to erupt into a Vesuvius of voluptuous delight, "why can't I use the salve Cherie gave me in Chicago, the salve that numbs my cuntal feelings?"
"Because," he replied patiently, "it would also dull the sensibilities of the prick of every man who got into your adorable cunt and string him out to last an hour or even more without rendering his offering. That was a special case in any event, one not to be repeated soon again, I sincerely hope."
Cherie was another of my sisters, a delicious French-Canadian girl, who had saved my life during a visit to Chicago with Leona, by use of the aforementioned numbing aphrodisiac ointment. A gifted painter of obscene murals, she had been engaged in decorating our Windy City "office," as we called our Pan-Priapic temples, and had moved on to do a similar job for our Los Angeles office. Mal and Duke had been with her in Chicago, but had returned to the Indianapolis headquarters to prepare for the tour with the main troupe. There were other brothers and sisters on the West Coast, I had been informed, to assist her out there...
"Why can't we forget all about my being a priestess, then, Daddy?" I begged. "I mean, surely I could do something else that would be useful."
"Do you wish to remain here with the old ladies," he countered, "or do you want to remain with your family?"
"Oh, Daddy ... oh, darn ... oh shit . ... '" I gasped as my self-control suddenly gave wav and my whole body convulsed with ecstasy that sent my sex-sap flowing freely and spread its sweet sticky thickness over both of our crotches and loins. There was no question of remaining still any more. The rupture of my repression had, if anything, made my reaction to holding Daddy's darling dong in my titillated twat even wilder than usual once the dam burst.
Daddy's hands clamped down hard on my loins, seeking to help me regain control of my wild cunt ... but in vain. I was too far gone to be amenable to any such restraint now, my whole lower torso bucking and rolling and driving up and down on the curving scimitar of flesh that had caused the explosion. I heaved like a mare in heat and my boobs seemed to be flying all around the room, so frantic were my gyrations.
How did I feel? Wonderful, especially when my coming went into high gear on what seemed to be a permanent high plateau of close to unbearable pleasure. I flipped and flopped and flattened myself against the body of the man whose prick, now deep in my cunt, had given me life in a series of explosive detonations that filled the whole world with the most delicious insanity ...
Not until I came down from these heights, did I discover that Daddy had made no movement to join mine, that his eight inches of bliss-giving meat remained erect but otherwise unstimulated in my suppurating fucking piece. It so frustrated me to realize he had not come that I was tempted to beat on his magnificent chest with my fists ... but he read my mind and gripped my wrists tightly before I could put this idiotic plan into operation.
"Daddy," I sobbed, "why didn't you come?"
He sounded almost sad. "Dearest Robin, I just wanted to show you what true control means. If ever any man wanted to plant his seed in your womb, it was myself just now ... when, in less than ten minutes, you used up energy that should last you for an hour or more."
I began to feel sobs close to the surface in my throat and cried, "Oh, darling Daddy, I can't help being the way I am. So why can't I just go along as something extra ... you know, in a special capacity or something ... please."
He shook his beautiful greying head and said, "Honey, it won't work ... you'll wear out your brothers and sisters with after-hours fucking while we're in session."
"Then let me go back to Riverville where you found me!" I cried. "This is never going to work."
"Even if I thought you meant that, which I don't for a minute, dearest daughter, I'd do my best to stop you."
"Why?" I knew, of course, but I wanted to hear him say it again.
"Because, Robin, I not only love you but I need you. You alone of my children have real psychic rapport with me ... we can reach each other's mind under some conditions, even when hundreds of miles apart."
"I know," I murmured, taking a deep breath that not only filled my lungs but almost set my well-filled tunnel of love winging again. "Even close to, sometimes ... as when you read my intention to hammer your chest just now. We share the same vibrations."
"And that, dearest Robin," he said with the definitive manner and tone of a man delivering the clincher in a debate, "is why you must become a professional. Despite your extreme youth, darling, I have independent command in view for you. At times, while touring the smaller cities, we divide the troupe. Sometimes crises have arisen in which the unit leader has been unable to reach a telephone for advice. With you in such a job, there will be no need for any form of mechanical or electronic communication. So now do you understand, darling daughter?"
"Oh, Daddy!" I cried again, flinging myself flat on him and squashing my boobs against his beloved chest while putting my arms around his neck and hugging and kissing him. The prospect he had just opened for me delighted me, and I resolved right then to do whatever was necessary to learn orgasm control.
Of course, any such control was impossible just then, for the movements of my body in expressing my gratitude for the offer he had just made sent a thousand little wavelets of ecstasy radiating outward, ring fashion, from my tunnel of love ... each wavelet bigger than the one ahead of it until they became ripples and then waves and then great rollers that racked my entire being with rapture.
This time, to my joy, Daddy joined in the fucking, sending his Stradivarius of a prick winging in and out of my flooding hole from all possible directions. I began lifting myself in rhythm, high to be able to bring my cunt down in the greatest possible degree on darling Daddy's scimitar cock ... But Daddy, the devil, lifted his cock right with my cunt, keeping it buried to the hilt in my pulsing inner flesh no matter how I wriggled and writhed and pumped and pulsed on that curving lance of love.
Finally, he asserted himself more fully and, pulling me flat against his own heaving bosom, rolled me under him and, dividing my thighs so they stuck out almost at right angles to my body, proceeded to give my thus-exposed pubes a plumbing so prodigious that I thought they would never recover from the battering they were getting. He rodded me like a pile driver, ramming his prick right into me time after time, while I keened and convulsed and sought only to return as good as I was getting from my father.
It couldn't last forever, of course ... even though it seemed to and the prospect was scarcely terrifying. I simply rode with the storm, coming so rapidly that my orgasms at last flowed into one superbly enduring super-climax. And then, at last, I felt the convulsive leap of his cock in my creaming coozy and knew our time was fast approaching. The better to contain his cream and blend it with my own, I thrust my cunt upward as high as I could so that his saber-like prick pushed against the right side of the top of my womb, remaining there while it sent the semen winging into its target of desire ...
When, after a long ease-off period, we at last disengaged our fucking pieces, we were bathed in sweat and semen and sex-sap, so Daddy pressed another button and the paneled door to the dressing and bathroom did open. As in the downstairs crapper, the actual John was set off from the other fixtures in a sort of double stall shower ... for in this, as in the remaining implements with which it was so lavishly equipped, everything was in twos, save the big, half-sunken oval tub, which could comfortably contain a pair of amorous duets.
He emerged from the shower while I was still flushing out my crotch and cunt on the bidet and looked down at me with a mixture of love and concern. Although Daddy was then in his early forties, he was still the handsomest man I had ever seen, not merely in face but in body. His superbly conditioned torso and limbs, his long, unlumpy muscles beneath skin of a radiantly healthy tone, were monuments to a lifetime of careful conditioning. As I well know from experience I would never forget, his strength of prick, his delicacy and his stamina were outstanding even among the younger men of his own family.
Earlier, explaining his remarkable fitness, he had told me, "Ever since I was a boy, I have conditioned myself for sex ... and every sport requires its own kind of conditioning. The football player, for instance, requires development and training very different from that of the boxer. In both cases, since in both of these sports, actual danger of bodily harm and even destruction is involved, long courses of simulated action are required before the body is deemed fit for the brutality of competition.
"But the golfer or the tennis player, who faces no such peril in combat, gets his conditioning from actual play, whether in sporting matches or tournament ... once he has mastered the techniques of his game. Thus it is with the lover ... once he has learned how to fuck, there is no better method of keeping in trim than by fucking. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
He had, of course ... he always did. Daddy could make the most complicated problems and situations as simple as X Y Z. So now, as I wriggled my butt to get the fullest possible cleansing effect from the jets of water splashing up into it from the bidet, I sensed that he was pondering my problem and seeking some means of translating my inability to control my reactions while being fucked into a simple problem and solution.
"Daddy," I said, forestalling him, "what can I do?"
He laughed his lovely silent laugh, which as always made his face glow from within, and gave his limp cock a pull and said, "Don't stop fucking, whatever you do, darling Robin. Just between the two of us, you are the most."
I knew what he meant ... that I was better than any of my sisters ... and this caused me to do some glowing, too. But, as I turned off the bidet and sat there, waiting for my crotch to dry, the weight of my problem returned to weigh on me heavily.
"Dearest Daddy," I said, "how am I going to control it?"
"You went to dancing school when you were very small, he said. "Your mother, my sister, told me. She said you could spin like a top on your toes without ever getting dizzy. Do you know how you did that?"
"Of course," I said. "You simply fix your gaze on something that spins with you ... like a ruffle on one of your shoulders. Thus, you don't see the room whirl around you. And, since it is your eyes that make you dizzy, you don't get dizzy."
"Exactly."
"But how is that going to help me from coming when I fuck, dear Daddy?" I asked.
"Fuck dear Daddy," He smiled at me again. "I like that."
"You won't be doing it with your eyes," he told me. "You do it with your mind. While a man has his prick plunging in and out of your cunt, you think about something else. You think about it before he fucks you, you think about it while he fucks you."
"But what sort of thing should I think about?" I asked doubtfully ... I couldn't believe it would work. It sounded terribly difficult.
"Anything at all ... as long as it will hold your interest and has nothing to do with sex."
"Golly gee!" I cried, "That's a large order, Daddy."
"Oh, come on," he said. "You had dolls, didn't you."
"Natch."
"Then dress and undress them while you fuck ... remember every little detail and keep on remembering. Or, if your dolls don't work, try something else until you find one that does. Try extracting the cube root of a million."
"I was always lousy at math, Daddy ... No, I think the doll bit might work. Oh, thank you, Daddy, thank you . ... ! "
I ran to him and hugged his body close and flattened my sensitive boobs against his lower ribs and then looked up at him and said, "Daddy ... can't we go once more for kicks before we put your theory to the tests?"
His prick was rising against my belly, but he shook his handsome head and said, "No, darling daughter ... we need some sleep. We have a hard day ahead tomorrow, especially you."
"What does that mean, Daddy?" I peered up at his so-handsome face through the light covering of fur on his chest.
"You'll find out, darling," he replied, picking me up and carrying me lightly and easily to a broad chaise lounge close to a sidewall and covered with water-proof material. There, laying me down, he said, "Now, let's see how well you play with dolls."
"Hello, Dolly," I giggled ... a limp remark that was greeted with the dignified silence it merited.
Still carrying me, he reclined on this piece of furniture and placed me athwart his loins for the prospective piece of tail. "Since, according to the customs of ancient times," he told me, "the primary position had the female in the driver's seat, almost all of our ritual fucking is done in this posture.
"Therefore," he continued as he lowered my rump, using his hands for a chair and spreading my tailpieces wide to make insertion easier, "I think we'd better do it this way during rehearsals. Now," and with this he worked his curving codpiece slowly into my creaming coozy until its tip exerted that sweet, murderous pressure against the upper right-hand portion of my womb, "think about dressing your favorite dolly ... "
"Hello, Dolly," I said again and barely suppressed a giggle ... which, in turn, brought me within a hair's breadth of detonation as the effort caused my whole body to shake with highly erotic results.
"That's not funny!" snapped Daddy with a whiplash in his voice that I had never heard before. It scared me sober for a moment and, desperately, I thought of my old Barbie doll and of the various outfits with which I used to dress her when I was a little girl in my pre-fucking years in Riverville.
It took a lot of doing, because Daddy was not wasting time downstairs. He was strapping my cunt with his prick in a number of ways, rolling his loins, bridging to lift me high in the air and then sliding his hands under my buttocks again so that, when he lowered his cock, all but the tip of that canted lance of love was out of my hole ... then, after teasing my labia and nymphae abominably with its purple and pink crown, digging his fingers into my underflesh and lowering my cunt on his cock until the insertion was once more as complete as insertion can be. After this, he launched a slow-sweet series of thrusts and rolls that flooded my crotch with pussyjuice, adding to the overwhelming erotic stimuli thus afforded me by rubbing and pinching the most sensitive unoccupied portions of my crotch, not neglecting the little pink button of my clit, which had stiffened outrageously under his erotic mastery.
Yet, Daddy's prescription worked ... at least up to a point. Bit by bit I selected Barbie's outfit from the cardboard bureau in which they were kept. The clothes were all out of date, naturally, since I hadn't played with Barbie for some seven years, but in my imagination, I pulled on a pair of pantyhose and then a clinging sweater-blouse of pale turquoise blue and then I selected tiny, shiny black boots and a coral colored miniskirt with a broad leather belt complete with silver buckle. I thought she looked very smart for her own era.
And all the while, the man I loved and lusted for most in the whole world was giving me the full treatment with his terrific dong plumbing the very depths of my being. I knew I couldn't hold out much longer, so I cast about for something else and remembered he had suggested I undress as well as dress Barbie.
So I began removing her garments, piece by piece ... but, try as I would to slow the process down, she got undressed faster than when I put the clothes on her. Before I really wanted it to happen, she was stripped naked, and I found myself looking at her little pink crotch with my mind's eye and placing a cute little hole in its middle with little red lips on either side and a button above and an arsehole below. And then, out of nowhere, I seemed to see a tiny, pink prick run right into her imaginary hole and out of sight ... and Barbie exploded in a series of violent orgasms.
That was the point at which I exploded, too ...
CHAPTER FOUR
The following morning, when we went to the chapel-or the "office," as we called it-I received my first real workout in cunt control. Daddy had done his very best to prepare me during the long, fuck-filled night, and I had worked as hard as I could to absorb his lessons as well as his divine prick.
We had to give up the doll-dressing idea after the third time it betrayed me into the wildly delicious orgasmic explosions that were to be strictly taboo during working hours. The final time I tried it, just when I thought I had it whipped and was containing Daddy's cock beautifully without climaxing, a whole succession of Ken dolls seemed to come out of nowhere and strip my imaginary Barbie and poke their plastic pink pricks into every hole but her ears.
This set me winging, naturally, and I convulsed all over the beautiful big bed, carrying Daddy with me and, to my great joy, causing him to lose control and send a soul-and hole-filling spurt of sweet sperm right into my sopping wet womb.
Obviously, the doll idea was not going to work. It was time to work out something else ...
Daddy suggested, "Maybe if you imagine you're menstruating it would do the trick."
I shook my head, said, "But, Daddy, that never stopped me from fucking. In some ways, I like it more when I'm having a period."
He looked up at me, shaking his wonderful gray-fringed head, massaging the inner surfaces of my well-spread thighs with his lovely curved scimitar of a prick still half-erect in my dripping coozy. "Really try, won't you, dearest of daughters?"
"What do you think I've been doing, darling Daddy?" I countered.
"I mean, really try to hold a non-fucking image while you're screwing," he said. "I need you, remember?"
That did it ... being needed by Daddy in the Martin family profession was almost as important as being desired by Daddy in bed. I finally came up with an idea while we were sharing the bathtub built for four. As usual, after enjoying such a lot of fucking, with all of that pelvic activity, I had had to go to the johnny in the worst way. One of the unsung fringe benefits of the kind of active, healthy life my family enjoyed living so much was that I had rarely been constipated since my half-brother Bill first fucked me when I was eleven years old and he was nine.
Before then, though, I had had a lot of difficulty with my bowels, and I remembered having to take suppositories to loosen them up. I decided to pretend every prick in my pussy was a suppository up my arsehole ... after all, they aren't far apart ... and thus stalemate erotic thought and feeling.
I didn't tell Daddy, though. As I slipped into the deliciously warm water of the big oval sunken tub, I said, "I have an idea, Daddy ... shall we try it out?"
"I hope it works, darling daughter," he replied, giving my boobs a delicious preliminary squeeze. Right then, I almost blew the whole ball game as delicious little thrills began coursing through my vibrant and vibrating young body.
But I thought of those ridiculous suppositories up my butt and it actually brought my already-launched fucking machinery to a halt. I felt another kind of thrill, a thrill of impending success, as I straddled his lap and lifted my rump to receive the sweetest of all suppositories in my well-lubricated hole.
I wanted to test it then and there in the tub, because I have always found fucking in water especially exciting and erotic. Don't ask me why, but this is true of a lot of girls. Leona got as much of a charge out of aquatic sports as I did, while roly-poly, chocolate brown Jill went crazy when a prick penetrated her plump little pussy below the waterline. In the immediate family, as then constituted, only inky-black Donna seemed to derive no added excitements from tub or pool-fucking. But then, charged the way she was, she didn't need any extras. None of us did really, for that matter.
Anyway, each time Daddy poked his prick up my passage until it passed the soft flanges of my womb-gate and pressed along its right side until it hit the top ... each time he withdrew it until only its imperial purple crown remained within the lips of my cunt ... I thought butt-hole ... arsehole ... suppository ... suppository ... arsehole ... suppository . . .and so on. Daddy went through a good many of his bottomless bag of fucking tricks to bring me on again, but to no avail.
Finally, he paused and said, "Congratulations, dearest daughter mine ... but controlling yourself is only half the battle. You've got to make your partners come and the quicker the better."
"Oh..." I felt my face burn with embarrassment. "I guess I forgot. I'm sorry, Daddy."
With that, I tightened every muscle in my vagina on the beloved prick filling it so deliciously. Then, still thinking arsehole ... suppository ... ad infinitum, I put my pelvis through a series of bumps and grinds and rolls and kickrolls that caused Daddy's cock to leap against the muscles confining it in my cunt and, in less than twenty seconds, he was shooting sperm into my core once again.
"Is that what you mean?" I asked, feigning anxiety.
He laughed and gave my buttocks a slow double-squeeze and said, "You lovely little devil."
I could tell by his tone and the light in his eyes that he was proud of me, so I let myself go then and he stayed right with me and this time it didn't matter that most of the bubble bath had evaporated ... we made so many bubbles and kicked up so much foam with our fucking pieces that the water's surface was white as shaving cream. After holding in, I came so fast and so many times that, when Daddy once again fired a seminal charge into my throbbing uterus, I was actually fucked out for the time being.
We didn't even bother to towel each other off, but padded back to bed still wet and enjoyed the delicious feeling of lying in sheets damp with water scented not only by the bubble bath's perfume but by that of the semen and pussyjuice with which we had impregnated it.
* * *
For a man in his forties, Daddy is unbelievable ... it was be who woke me up, finger-fucking me and diddling my clit until the last vestiges of sleep had fled and I opened my eyes to see morning sunlight streaming through the casement windows.
He was half-lying over me, with his healthy sun-bronzed body resembling that of some ancient demigod and his prick with its wonderful curve to port already prodding the soft flesh on my mound. I enjoyed a lazy convulsion and was about to push for a bigger one when I remembered what I had learned during the fuck-filled night just past. Somehow, I knew Daddy was testing me, and I quickly killed all thought of my own pleasure and put my mind on my butt-hole.
I spread my legs wide as he mounted my saddle and thrust my crotch upward to receive the thrust of his lovely long lance. Whether it came from my E.S.P. rapport with Daddy I still don't know, but I understood perfectly what he had in mind.
Naturally, having spent a goodly portion of my young life fucking and being fucked, I was aware that everybody's senses are duller than usual on first awakening ... therefore that everybody is a lot slower in reaching orgasm while sleep still drugs normally detonative reactions.
Personally, I love being fucked the first thing in the morning. It's a lot more fun than corn flakes and, if you don't react as explosively at first, you can get there if you take your time and, in this instance, getting there is at least half the fun. It's sort of slow-roll time and my fucking piece is deliciously sticky with the sex-sap that forms while I sleep and everything is sort of nubbly and sweet and ... well, different, at least until the senses at last come fully awake.
But this, I knew, was no time for that sort of thing. Daddy had wakened me with his prick to see if I remembered what I had learned in the bathtub ... also, to see how long it would take me to milk his cock with my cunt, slowed up as his reactions were with slumber. There was only one thing to do to prove my ability to become a full-fledged member of the Martin family ... get busy!
So ... busy I got. Thinking arsehole ... suppository ... as hard as I could, I began fucking my father in the most provocative method I knew. Starting slowly and then speeding up the action imperceptibly until we were fucking and bucking like a pair of alley-cats in heat ... and everybody knows how fast they can move their feline fucking pieces.
It took a little longer than it had in the tub, but not a great deal. Within a couple of minutes, by which time I was really whipping my cunt about like a snake, I felt the stiffness of his scimitar prick give that unmistakable convulsive leap that spells come on the way, and I really let him have it, gripping his prick as if I were trying to squash it in my juicing hole.
* * *
When it was over, I said, "How can you be sure I didn't come, Daddy?"
He smiled and flicked one of my nipples lightly and said, "That's the tipoff ... or should I say titoff?"
"Should you, darling Daddy?" I reached down and gave his receding cock a caress that brought it back to attention.
He said, "Look at your nipples now, dearest of daughters."
I did, and so help me, the little teats were standing up as straight as Daddy's pussyjuice-soaked prick. I said, "You mean they didn't that time?"
He shook his head, said, "A man who knows the score can always tell."
"Well, fuck you, Father," I said. And, climbing aboard him, I proceeded to do exactly that, and this time I held nothing back and we were still at it when Donna came into the room with her high boobs bobbing at every step she took and said, "Come on, you two, it's almost nine-thirty."
* * *
Breakfast was a hearty meal in the Martin family for obvious reasons ... it is doubtful that any other family in the country enjoyed as thorough-going and consistent night exercise. It was served English country house style, with a lot of chafing dishes lined up on a fine old mahogany sideboard. Everybody helped him or herself and we ate at a long refectory table that was always laid for twelve no matter how many of us were on hand at any given mealtime.
We cooked in shifts ... cooking, like fucking, was a sine qua non in the Martin family and that included the boys as well as the girls. This morning, Luana and Duke had done the honors, and we enjoyed the usual scrambled eggs and thick Irish bacon and English muffins and jam and hashed-brown potatoes ... with a big casserole of medallions of pork sirloin.
Most of the others had finished by the time we showered and got downstairs. And we ate with Leona and Duke, since the pair on K.P. duty always ate last. As always when we ate en famille, we were naked save for our fine damask napkins ... but there was no talk of sex. Not that there was ever much talk of sex at the Martins' ... we were usually too busy doing it one way or another. But Daddy had declared the dining room and kitchen out of bounds for fucking, and if those of us on K.P. occasionally sneaked a quickie in the pantry or laundry, we made damned sure Daddy was not around.
Meal times were devoted to eating and to general conversation. Daddy considered it important for every member of the family to be well informed and to be able to express an opinion lucidly. Thanks to this policy of his, we were forever surprising outsiders who knew something of our way of life and considered us mere fucking and sucking machines.
As Daddy discussed with Duke the probable future of rock music while Leona and I listened and shoveled the food into our pretty faces, I sensed an unusual excitement in the air, a sort of electric anticipation. Not that anybody said anything, but my E.S.P. antennae were peculiarly alert and it was there ... I could feel it. Since nobody told me what was in the wind, I figured it had something to do with me, but I knew better than to ask. I had a hunch I was not going to be kept in ignorance long.
* * *
After breakfast, Daddy summoned Duke and assigned me to help Leona clean up. It was not my turn, but after having two extra straight nights with my father (and after having caused Leona to be bumped only the night before), I made no protest. Into each life a little dishwater must fall and all that jazz...
It took us about a half hour to clean up and not until we were finished did my beautiful golden half-sister give me a clue. Then, when we were finally finished in the kitchen, she gave me a hug, pulling me close, and said, "Oh golly, honey, you've got to make it!"
"Make what?" I asked, looking into her lovely lavender eyes and rubbing my boobs against her somewhat larger mammaries.
"I can't tell you." She blushed as if embarrassed at having said so much even though it was little enough.
"Then don't ... " I played it cool and pulled my flesh gently clear of hers.
"I love you, Robin," She drew my belly against her delicious flat dome again. "I only wish I could help you ... you're so-so reactive. But I'll be praying to Priapus every step of the way."
That gave the whole show away, of course. I was going to be put through my ritualistic paces that very morning. Instead of being anxious, I felt proud ... for I was certain that Daddy would have called off my test if he had the slightest doubt about my being ready for it. I felt proud for having mastered the necessary trick or orgasmic control so thoroughly in a single night. I was dying to ask Leona how long it had taken her, but I decided against letting her know she had tipped me off so thoroughly. When Leona blew, she blew ... as when she threw the bric-a-brac at Daddy and me the night before.
"Oh, come on," she said, grabbing my hand. "Let's get at it."
We slipped out a side door and walked the hundred feet of lawn to the chapel. It was a sort of American Gothic structure that went with the rest of the old house and its walled-in grounds. When we reached the entrance, his immense black frame was cloaked by a white robe and, from a silver chain around his neck, two-inch silver lingam hung. Its base at the top carried twin silver loops to represent balls, through which the end-links of the chain were fastened.
I thought he looked like a chocolate-marsh-mallow sundae, but I didn't say so. like Leona, his expression was entirely serious. In rumbling tones, deeper than his normal voice, he said, "Priestess Leona, take the acolyte to the tiring room and prepare her for the ritual."
I was whisked into a chamber just inside the front door to the left, where Donna and Jill were awaiting us. They wore white robes like Terry's, save that, from the silver chains around their necks hung silver yonis ... only slightly stylized ornamental female genitals. They handed Leona a robe and chain and she struggled into them, and then the three of them busied themselves with me.
Save for a few necessary remarks like, "Suture, Nurse," or, "Sponge," or "Scalpel," or their equivalent as they seemingly embalmed my body, they were silent as the priestesses of Pan-Priapus into which they had metamorphosed. They stretched me out on a hospital-type rolling bed and rubbed me all over with some sort of unguent and then bathed me in a strange but not unpleasant scent and then put some sort of special cream in and around my pussy. Then, and only then, when I had been massaged from scalp to soles, they helped me sit up and, before I realized what was happening, a velvet mask had been slipped over my head.
It fitted my entire head with perfect comfort. It was silk lined and felt soft and smooth against my skin. It had holes for breathing and for my mouth as well. There was only one drawback ... wearing it, I could see nothing. There were no holes for my eyes. For a moment, I was frightened ... but then I reflected that my sisters must have been through the mill and I was perfectly certain that, whatever they could survive, so could I.
Donna said, "Come, Robin," and took my hand. I felt Leona, bless her, give my bottom a pat of reassurance ... the lovely little dickens even managed to slip a finger into my cleft from behind and give my cunt a quick feel. I smiled beneath my mask as I was led by both sisters, where I could not tell, and brought to a halt perhaps fifty paces from where we had started. Save for the mask-helmet that covered my russet curls and face, I was stark naked.
I heard Daddy utter a ritual in what sounded like Greek (it was Greek to me, anyway), punctuated by chorused chants by the others. I simply stood there, wondering what in hell was going on, until finally Daddy, in his wonderful deep voice, said, "Daughter of Pan-Priapus called Robin, are you prepared to enter into your father's service?"
"I am," I said.
There were other questions, all of which I answered in the affirmative. It sounded a little like a wedding service, then a lot like a wedding service ... then I realized that it was & wedding service between me and my father, whether his name was Leicester Martin or Pan-Priapus, it mattered not a white.
When it ended, there was a pause ... and then Daddy's voice intoned, "Sons of Pan-Priapus, take my bride and discover if she be truly fit to be the consort of a god."
There was another chorus of alien assents, and then I was seized in strong arms and lifted bodily and placed on my back on what I took to be some sort of altar with attachments that seemed more proper on an abortionist's table. It had stirrups in which my ankles were caught, high and wide apart, and clasps on either side of my shoulders in which my wrists were imprisoned.
By this time, I was pretty certain as to what lay in store for me. Far from dreading it, I looked forward to it eagerly. Furthermore, I put my thoughts where they belonged ... on my arsehole, resolved not to let dear Daddy down. I had hoped at the beginning of the ceremony that Daddy alone would perform the ritual fucking, but realized quickly that was too much to expect of a family devoted to such a pagan cult.
Come to think of it, I had nothing to complain about in any case, all my brothers being the terrific studs they were. My only problem, I sensed, was going to be keeping my hot little hole under wraps while I brought each of them to a boil in a hurry.
Sure enough, in a matter of mere seconds, I could sense that someone was standing at the foot of the altar, where my cunt lay open and fully exposed to his assault. Then I could feel the head of a prick pushing against my well salved labia and sliding easily into my cunt. It was a prick I knew well, a stiff round cylinder of a prick, almost flat at the tip. Mal, my Eskimo half-brother, was being given first crack at my crack.
I lifted my crotch and thrust it forward as much as my restricted condition permitted to aid his insertion and to render it complete as quickly as possible. I heard him utter a familiar little grunt of content and excitement as my labia and his soft scrotum made intimate contact and his dong's flat tip nuzzled my womb-gate flanges.
There are some people, I know, who get a great boot out of being fucked by someone they cannot see ... but not me, thank you. I like to be able to look at whoever is doing me and, even more important, to see what we are doing with and to each other. So, to a considerable extent, my being blind-folded helped me a lot in retaining the necessary measure of self-control to win my acceptance into the inner circle of the Martin family which was otherwise doubly mine by my incestuous birthright.
So I thought arsehole ... suppository ... arsehole ... suppository ... and really put my cunt into swinging motion. I was going to make the grade or bust....
CHAPTER FIVE
With restraining my own orgasm during the ordeal-by-fucking, I had the objective of bringing on to a climax each of my partners as rapidly as possible. At first, I felt sorely hampered by the loops that held my ankles high and my wrists pinioned to the sides of the hospital-type cart to which my naked body was strapped. But, as I lifted my rump clear of the surface in counter action to Mal's blunt thrusts, I found that I could get a swinging rhythm going that made things interesting as long as I held my buttocks in the air.
But not too interesting for me ... I forgot briefly the arsehole-suppository routine as I began meeting my Eskimo brother's onslaughts more than halfway and almost blew the whole deal right at the start. But I remembered in the very nick of time, just as a series of rippling spasms brought me to the very brink of disaster, and managed to quiet the waves of voluptuous delight before things got entirely out of hand.
Early in my fucking career, I had discovered that the quickest way to bring a stud to early ejaculation-always granting he isn't a hair-trigger type who explodes on first contact or even before-is unexpected variations in screwing technique. But, to make a sudden switch effective, it is necessary to establish a regular rhythm that can then be broken.
With this in mind, I swung my rump up straight ahead, meeting him in mid-air as it were and causing his swinging balls to slap against the inner curves of my rump in a metronomic beat. I knew he was feeling it by the characteristic little grunt of pleasure he gave each time our sopping hairs met and meshed.
Now, with a steady motion established, I was faced with the problem of how to achieve something new and unexpected in my restricted field of operations. Had my arms and legs and therefore my body been free, I could have indulged in any of a score of sextrobatic stunts which, by themselves or employed in sequence, would certainly have sufficed to bring his sperm spurting into my juicing womb.
As yet, being unrehearsed, I had no idea what I could get away with under the conditions in which I was forced to operate ... and all the time, I was forced to deny myself the delicious thrills of climax that had become my life's object since my twelfth year.
I felt that it was time to do something ... but what? All I could do was make the effort and trust that it would be effective.
Midway between thrusts, when only the upper half of my Eskimo brother's flat-headed fucking piece remained in my well-oiled hole, I put the plan into action with a rapid lateral swinging of my bottom that, with my legs strapped high, became a sort of figure eight ... and each time my cunt crossed in its center, I gave it a flip toward the base of Mal's prick, nipping at it with my vaginal muscles as I did so.
I heard him mutter, "Jesus Christ!" as I hit him thus for the fourth time, so this time, instead of merely nipping at his cock, I held on, keeping him there, deep in my tunnel of lust ... and was rewarded by feeling his fine tool begin to buck and then to spurt its thick white juice into my own cream.
I felt like crying, "Gotcha!" but the semi-religious atmosphere of the occasion caused me to refrain from any such ribaldry. Besides, if I let go even for an instant, I could well be lost in the surge of my own pent-up pleasure.
Mal pulled out and left me hanging there with our blended juices tickling a little as they dribbled down my crotch past my arsehole ... but almost before I could feel hung up, Duke slammed his Hawaiian hook into the wet and waiting void of my cunt, filling it even more fully than his predecessor. I reacted, of course, but by dint of clinging to the arsehole-suppository technique, I got things in hand or rather in cunt, again and settled down, or rather up, to the not entirely unpleasant assignment in front of me, or rather inside of me.
This time, once he was solidly established with his poignant prick in my flooded hole, I bent to my incestuous task in a different order, beginning by rolling my rump in small circles. Having seen how I handled Mal, Duke had no intention of being trapped the same way. His solution was to follow me rather than attempt to lead, keep his scrotum flat against my steaming labia with our cream-covered hairs intertwined, thus keeping his cock buried in my hot little hole to the maximum.
This constant pressure soon proved more than I could endure and keep my senses. With each rump-roU my level of climax crept higher despite my desperate employment of the butt-hole-suppository diversion of interest. So I did the only thing I could think of ... I gradually slowed tc a stop. And then, with both of us outwardly absolutely still, I went to work on my light-brown brother's magnificent manhood with the muscles that lined my cunt from womb to labia major.
At first I simply contracted and relaxed them all the way, using all of them simultaneously.
Then I began contracting them in sequence, beginning with the muscles at my cuntal entrance and slowly working upward to the door of my womb. I then relaxed them in reverse order, repeating the process three times before again calling the recourse of variation into play.
Still holding my body otherwise absolutely still, I again held the whole of his massive meat tightly ... and then turned it right around by gripping only its thick crown and then working down toward the base. By the time I got there, my Hawaiian half-brother uttered a soft oath and it was his turn to fill my hole with his joy-juice.
Then he withdrew and big black Terry's big black Hamitic dong slid into the sopping softness of my most intimate area and his big black balls pushed and flattened themselves against the cheeks of my rump. Where the first two of my brothers had come into me all tensed up, I could sense that Terry was employing a much more relaxed approach. With that long, thick Hamitic prick of his, he could afford to ... since, even when it was not aroused, that snake-like snickersnee of his was almost as large as where it was fully aroused.
At first, his technique stymied me entirely, but I decided two could play at that game ... so, for long minutes, I relaxed, too, and simply let myself lie there with his cock reposing-and I do mean reposing-in my inactive tunnel of lust. As a matter-of-fact, Duke had brought me so close to an overboil of delight that I needed a brief rest right then ... even with all that marvelous black meat embedded in my hot little hole and stretching it deliciously.
In a way, it was dirty chess ... since Terry had time going for him while I did not. As a priestess of Pan-Priapus, it was my job, as it was the job of any temple prostitute, to service my worshipers quickly, thus freeing myself to take on the next lucky adorer in line. I could not remain relaxed indefinitely and hope to qualify for the role Daddy intended me to fill in his plans.
What to do-what to do? It was going to have to be sudden, unexpected ... and quickly successful.
Getting a good firm grip on my black half-brother's massive meat, I went into action. This time, I did not lift my rump from the pad that supported it. Instead, holding it firmly in place, I began rolling and grinding it around the ebon pillar in my sluicing, juicing hole, as if I were grinding chopped meat in a butcher's shop. I bore down on it instead of rising to meet it, using the frontal bone under my mons veneris to put downward pressure on its base at the top, and then wriggled my bottom rapidly as my vagina simply devoured it.
I could not have kept it up long without wearing out the muscles of my lower spine but, mercifully, it worked and worked fast.
"Shit, darling-you've got me!" he cried as that big black codpiece leapt to life in my hole and sent its rich white fluid to its predestined terminus inside my well-flushed womb.
Then he was gone and there was darling Daddy's sweet curving scimitar impaling me. Bless him, Daddy made no effort to bring me on as his sons had done. Instead, he simply fucked me as a worshiper might have done, driving his delicious dong in and out of me without a vestige of trickery ... but so great was my love for my father that this act of parental consideration was all but enough to prove my undoing.
Dangerously, I skirted the rim of the abyss of delight and, for a long, precarious moment, I feared that even the arsehole-suppository routine was at last going to fail me. But just as I was about to detonate and to hell with the consequences, a message from Daddy flashed into my brain.
... with it, darling. Steady the Buffs...
Bless you, Daddy! It worked. I went into a swift series of convolutions calculated to extract semen from a stone image ... and a stone image Daddy never was. Moments later, I was receiving the most precious charge of all in my flooding uterus, and a thrill of triumph raced through me as I realized I had won the difficult game.
* * *
Daddy withdrew from the swamp of my underside and I went limp, awaiting to be released from my bondage ... but things didn't work out quite that way.
Instead of having my ankles and wrists freed and my blindfold removed, my cunt was invaded by a fifth prick ... one that had never been in there before. I uttered an involuntary cry of alarm as it slid remorsely on inside me, working its way toward the target of my uterine gate.
For one moment, my reaction was stayed by recollection of a ridiculous story I had learned back in Riverville as a child from my friend and classmate, Hotpants O'Houlihan. It concerned a trio of women playing golf at a country club, two of them married, the other a single swinger.
As they walked alongside an out-of-bounds fence, hunting a ball sliced into the rough, they came upon a urinating penis thrust through a hole in the solid palings of the fence ... and, not unnaturally, stopped to look at it.
One of the married women said, "That doesn't belong to my husband." The other married woman said, "Nor does it belong to my husband."
At this, the single swinger remarked, "Hell, it doesn't belong to anybody in the club."
Which was precisely how I felt at that moment, lying blindfold and with an utterly strange prick pumping in and out of my pussy.
It was total ambush. My guard was down all the way. I had thought, after my final fuck with Daddy, that the ordeal by incest was ended ... and here I was, with entirely alien titillator in my twat.
Not that it was an inadequate prong ... far from it. If not as long as Daddy's or my brother Terry's, and not having darling Daddy's delicious curve to port, it was thicker than any prick I have ever before absorbed with my cunt. For one wild moment, I thought it was going to split the tender tissues of my tract and waited, quivering, for the splatting sound of rending flesh-my own.
But then I was containing it womanfully, and, rather than proving a detriment to my enjoyment, the large diameter of this strange codpiece greatly added to my pleasure as it plunged in and out of my quivering quim with a sort of nonchalant assurance not even Daddy could improve upon. All of these factors coalesced in a matter of seconds to become my undoing.
There was no time even to think ... arsehole ... suppository ... as, caught with every barrier down, a long-repressed tidal wave of passion swept over me, inundating my cunt and all the area around it with the flash-flood flow of my sex-sap. My whole body seemed literally to explode with the vehemence of the rapid succession of orgasms that gripped me. Each time the thick crown of the strange cock diddled the flanges at the gate of my womb, I convulsed. Each time my unseen attacker withdrew until only the tip of his tool remained within the thrusting grip of my purple labia ... I convulsed again.
I arched my back and began a series of wild counter-onslaughts that had my rump swinging wildly in a variety of directions, leaping and flopping like a beached salmon ... yet never losing the persistent alien prick that seemed to follow it everywhere with unerring intuition. There was no way I could even pretend to cling to the vanished vestiges of self-control ... simply no way!
I came all over that hospital-care of a cot and I kept right on coming, time after time, until I had milked my invisible man's prodigiously thick fucking piece three times without a break. Whoever and whatever he was, he wielded his prick like a master symphonic conductor wielding his baton, playing me for every sensation in the inexhaustible book of orgasmic delights. I was cooked and I knew it, so I did the only thing I could under the circumstances: somewhat like the girl being raped, I lay back and enjoyed it ... except that I didn't lie back but gave it everything I had, and the word enjoyed is hardly powerful enough to suggest the richness of the myriad delights that ran freely through my trussed and deliciously helpless body.
* * *
When at last it was over and he removed his dripping prick from my sopping cunt, I lay close to unconscious in a near-water bed of my own sweat. I was barely aware of it when helpful hands unfastened the loops that bound me to the narrow, wheeled cot and was utterly unable to lift the mask from my face.
Donna did this for me, holding me upright in a sitting position and handling me as gently as a baby. But I was in no mood for condolence as, with the return of my sex-addled senses had come deepening and bitter awareness that I had flunked my all-important test for matriculation into the active portion of the Martin family. Granted, ringing in a strange prick just when they did was an underhanded sort of trick ... but I felt unhappily that I should have been on my guard for just such a subterfuge and should have remained ready for anything until the loosening of my bonds signaled my release...
* * *
Although my self-reproach was such that I could hardly demand sympathy, yet I was unprepared for the happy, smiling faces my brothers and sisters were wearing ... even Daddy was laughing at me with his wonderful silent laugh, for once unappreciated by me. One would hope that at least one or two of them would be expressing concern over my failure. To my horror, such was my chagrin that I could feel tears beginning to course down my cheeks and was barely able to repress a sob.
I had not cried since I first began fucking with what I then believed to be my father and kid brother and sister at the age of eleven. In my former family, whenever anybody felt ready to cry, the rest of us had simply gathered around and fucked her (or him) out of it. The only crying any of us had done was in the throes of a prolonged enjoyment of great sexual fulfillment ... and that hardly counted as grief.
So here I was, weeping and about to blubber like a baby ... which did nothing to lessen mv feelings pf guilt and defeat.
It was darling Daddy, of course, who noticed my wretchedness first. He came swiftly to me, pushing Donna gently aside, and gathered my tearstained face to his beautiful chest and hugged me there and repeated soothing words over and over again.
So intense was my preoccupation with my own unhappy feelings, that it must have been a full minute at least before I actually heard what he was saying..."It's all right dearest of daughters. You came through with flying colors. We're all proud as punch of you and happy for you."
Even after I finally heard what he was trying to tell me, it took another full minute for its sense to sink into my sex-addled brain. Even then, I couldn't believe it ... I thought Daddy was merely applying the soft soap to pull me out of my misery.
When I could talk, I half-blubbered, "But, Daddy ... the last time, I ... well, you saw."
He hugged me closer and smiled his wonderful smile down at me and said, "Oh, you had already passed when that happened. We thought you had a little fun coming to you, so we rang in Uncle Jake for a surprise."
"Uncle Who?"
Daddy called, "Jake ... come here. Robin wants to meet you."
A short, plump, bald-headed little man with a blob of a nose between a pair of close-set, twinkling little black eyes and with a mouth that looked more like a female sex orifice than an eating mechanism, pushed his way through between the wall my brothers and sisters were making in front of me ... following the round dome of his hairy belly by almost three feet.
He beamed at me, revealing a solid wall of gold teeth and extended a pudgy hand adorned with three big lodge rings sparkling on stubby fingers. With his other paw, he patted my still-dripping pussy and said, "Proud to have you in the family, Robin. That's one hell of a hotbox you're carrying between those pretty young legs of yours. Take good care of it, honey."
He gave my boobs a couple of pats and a squeeze before moving off, leaving behind him the definite impression that here was a man who really loved his nooky ... as if I hadn't already received ample proofs of this while strapped to the table.
"Uncle Jake...? " I whispered to Daddy when he was out of earshot.
Daddy laughed softly, said, "Jack flew in from Tulsa this morning. He's our advance man."
"Is he really your brother?"
"You'd better believe it, dear girl ... the fruit of my own mother's womb and all that."
"Sound like men's underwear," I said. "But he doesn't look at all like you. You mean he's my mother's brother, too?"
"Naturally." And, while I was trying to digest this unexpected addition to the family circle, "Of course, there has always been some question as to his paternity. Jake-likes to think of himself as the son of a famous theatrical producer of days long gone-who scattered his seed freely among the good-looking young ladies of the chorus."
"You mean, my grandmother was a chorus girl? I never heard about that."
"Dear girl, there is a lot you have to learn about this family, I fear. Yes, your grandmother was featured in a road company of No, No, Nanette ... but she was booted from the show in Des Moines. There was a little matter of her being five months pregnant with Jake."
"Didn't she sue?"
"Darling, trying to sue Jake's probable namesake and father was like trying to sue the government. There was a bit of a fuss, to be sure. A reporter asked her if she was going to claim the baby was an 'act of God," like Helen Hayes, but she said, 'No, it was an act of Jake.' Anyway, it's a good thing she had him. When the going gets rough, as it does from time to time, it's a good thing to have Uncle Jake in your corner."
"He's not bad in your cunt," I replied.
"I wouldn't know about that," said Daddy, trying to suppress a smile, "but I've never heard any complaints on the subject." He gave me a big hug then and said, "In any case, darling, welcome to the Martin family. You really did your daddy proud just now."
"I'm glad it's over," I said, beginning to feel a little bit proud myself. "I'd hate to have to do it over again. I mean, not that I don't love having all of you fuck me, but that's the point. Having you fuck me and not being able to enjoy it is plain hell."
"That's why we break all my girls in with the family, after they've learned to love us, my dear. If you can keep it cool under those conditions, they're not apt to have any trouble controlling themselves with the rank and file of the members of our little cult."
I watched Uncle Jake over in a corner, where he sat on a low bench with his legs wide apart so that Jill could do a blow job on his cock. He was seated right under a mural by Cherie of old Silenus, the demigod Bacchus' old horned and horny satyr buddy. Save for the horns and the hoofs and the small pointed beard of the man in the corner, it was hard to tell them apart.
As I watched the performance, I considered ways of getting even with Uncle Jake for the way he had bushwhacked me while I was trussed and helpless as a Thanksgiving turkey. It was going to take time and thought, but I felt certain that I'd come up with something satisfactory when the time was ripe.
I was going to give him the kind of a fucking he had just given me ... and I meant to enjoy it even more than he had...
CHAPTER SIX
What it was about Uncle Jake Martin that set my teeth on edge, I don't know. Maybe it was unreasonable resentment for his having taken me while I was blindfolded and, in my own mind at any rate, spoiling my track record for self-control during my initiation rites into the Martin family Inner Sanctum. My barely maintained self-control while Mal and Duke and Terry and darling Daddy were fucking me in succession had been hard come by ... especially with such a quartet of hards plumbing my cunt with but a single desire ... to make me explode before they did.
Or maybe it was Jake's personality. Where the rest of the family, at least among ourselves, were straightforward and loving and cooperative, Uncle Jake was as arrogant as a bantam cock. From the little I had seen of him since my de-masking, it was not so much what he said or did as the way he said or did it. I had a hunch he couldn't sit on the John without strutting.
It could have been his looks, of course. Every other member of the clan had more than his or her share of physical beauty, from darling Daddy right down to Mal ... for if our Eskimo brother was firm and meaty of body and flat of feature and small of eye, he was a strapping and handsome specimen of his race once you adjusted to him. As for the rest, black, white or in-between, they were so lovely of face and body it was impossible not to love them.
But not Uncle Jake ... with his bald head and pop eyes and bulging blob of a nose and cunt-like mouth, with his round-bellied, hairy body and short, bandy legs, he looked like a creature out of the tiny horrors of a painting of hell by Hieronymus Bosch. I mean, he just didn't seem to be out of the same bag, which, of course, he wasn't save for the accident of having been fruit of the same womb Daddy came from.
Probably it was astrological inimicality, but the mere thought of having those stubby fingers fondling my body or of letting his cock into my cunt gave me the brass chills...
To my amazement, the rest of the girls failed to share my deep distaste for Uncle Jake. Over against the wall, Jill's platinum-dyed curls rose and fell at a slowly increasing pace as she sucked away at the newcomer's prick. Bent over as she was with her back to the room, I could see the cream in her crotch which indicated that she was thoroughly aroused.
What made me even more annoyed was that, despite my own revulsion, despite the five fuckings I had so recently enjoyed (if enjoyed was quite the word to express my true feelings in the matter), I could feel the cream spreading in my own twat, which began to itch as if it hadn't held a human prick for a week or more. There was something so utterly loathsome about Uncle Jake that it actually did things to me. For the first time in my life I had some comprehension of the old fairy story Beauty and the Beast.
As Jill's platinum curls bobbed up and down ever faster as she sucked the newcomer off, her plump rump began to circle and the white area around her hole got almost visibly larger. Suddenly, Uncle Jake's fat, be-ringed fingers were digging dents in her ample flesh, pulling her head from his upcurving cock, which gleamed bright with his niece's spit as it lifted its big, thick crown unerringly toward the well-lubricated cunt that was so patently ready to be filled by it.
Writhing like a plump pigeon, the light-brown Jill spread her full thighs wide as her uncle pulled her athwart his lap and squashed her beautifully big boobs flat against the hairy surface of his own receding chest. Her plump belly somehow went into a reverse-curve around the much greater arch of his big, fat abdomen and her downthrusting cunt met his up-thrusting cock with a perfect conjuncture of movements to place it securely in the juicing hole it was so ardently seeking.
She began to grunt like a sow in childbirth each time she drove her crotch down over Uncle Jake's cock, and from the way she squeezed and hugged and kissed and slobbered over him, it was all too plain that she was actually crazy about fucking him. I had no doubt of his screwing talent, of course ... after all, it was only a few minutes since he had completed bringing me to one of the seethingest boils in my entire fucking lifetime ... but if I hadn't been wearing the mask, I doubt that I'd have let his prick come within a country mile of my cunt.
Yet, as Jill writhed in all-too-evident rapture on the thick, short (compared with Daddy's) prick in her rotating rump, I could feel the itching and creaming in my own cunt grow ever more urgent. Tearing my eyes from the spectacle that both revolted and fascinated me simultaneously, I glanced around to see who and what was available to ease my itching.
Evidently, the balance of the day was to be given up to festivities celebrating my successful matriculation into the bosoms of the family, for the only work being done was being performed by Donna and Duke, who were busily setting a refectory table with all sorts of goodies, both liquid and solid. Behind the altar on which I had made my initial sacrifices that morning, were laid a pair of king-size box springs topped by thick mattresses. At the moment, one of these floor-beds was being employed by Daddy and Mal and Donna and Leona, who lay on their sides in a rough rectangle busily engaged in sucking one another off even while being sucked off themselves.
This left beautiful, big, black Terry ... but where in hell was he? I looked for him everywhere, turning my head in all directions in vain as my desperation mounted. If I didn't get a prick in this distressed and itching area, I was going to have to masturbate ... which was like eating grits at a table piled with caviar.
Suddenly, rope-like black arms circled my slender waist from behind and huge black hands began dextrously kneading the palpitating flesh of my abdomen, working sweetly and swiftly down toward my mound and the cleft whose top its red-brown thicket of hair concealed. So much taller was Terry than I that his balls pressed into the small of my back and the Hamitic ramrod of his prick ran up my spine almost to my shoulder-blades.
"I thought you looked horny, honey," Terry murmured, nibbling my left earlobe.
It sent an electric shock racing through me that all but reduced me to aspic, quivering wildly in an earthquake. I gasped, "You were never lighter, darling brother," then reached around behind me to get a grip on his magnificent black cockalorum.
Using it as a fulcrum, I turned around in his embrace so that we were tete-a-tete instead of front to my rear. My beautiful black big brother was so much taller than I that his head seemed halfway to the ceiling while the royal and dusky crown of his cock now actually pressed into my skin between my boobs while his balls were pushed against my belly button.
But this tallest and biggest of all my brothers and I had not been savoring each other's meat sweetly since our first encounter at the airport motel in Kernstown without turning the apparent disadvantage of our ill-matched sizes to a source of extra-added delight. After all, we were both young and healthy and smart and not only the business but the joy of our lives was fucking ...
It was difficult for our lips and tongues to meet and mingle while Terry's prick was in my hole ... so we simply let that part of it go. As Terry said, "Let's concentrate where we've both got the most-our fucking pieces-and let the rest of it go."
A well-expressed sentiment with which I heartily agreed...
Holding me as if I were a medicine ball, my beautiful, big, black brother dropped to his knees on the unoccupied king-size floor-bed. The top of his cock-head slid into my richly pulping crotch and he maneuvered me so that it rubbed from one end of my slot to another a slow half-dozen times or more.
This was delicious foreplay ... to enjoy it all the more, I made a ball of myself, hugged my knees to my belly and boobs so that my crotch was the more fully exposed and available to his adept poking and prodding. Slowly, still holding me easily just above the quivering head of his beautiful black prick, Terry lay down on his back and looked up into my eyes with his own onyx orbs aglow with love and mischief and anticipation of the joys to be shared by both of us immediately ahead.
He lowered me, still coiled into a ball, until the fine, full crown of his cock was pushed barely between the throbbing labia at the very gate of my avid cunt. For a moment longer, he held me there, rotating my body slowly back and forth around the mighty meat whose tip lay just within the gateway to its goal.
Then he said, "Now, darling sister?"
I nodded and said, "Now, beautiful, big brother ... "
He drew me down on that projecting pillar of joy of his and it slipped up into my whirlpool bath of pleasure as slickly and easily as a knife through soft butter. Thanks to my curled-up position, he really got that dong into me, crowding its head right up inside my quivering uterus until it pressed against the very top of that vital organ. Holding me thus deliciously impaled, he began rotating the ball of my body in slow half circles, first to my right, then to my left, in gentle horizontal arcs that caused the wildest and most wonderful waves of sensation to put my whole being ablaze with the raging fire that should never be quenched.
Thanks to the intensive course darling Daddy had given me the night before, and the initiation ordeal I had so triumphantly survived that morning, my first instincts were to keep things under control just as long as I could. But then I remembered that this was no ritual fucking but an act of love and friendship and pleasure ... so I thought, To hell with that shit! and really let it all hang out. This was my last coherent thought for some time as the tidal waves of ecstasy rolled right over me and claimed me" with rhythmic surges and undertow and crossrips as well.
I came out of my human ball position and my arms and legs shot out from my thrusting, pulsing body ... and if this rendered my impalement a trifle less deep, the disadvantage was more than made up for by the increased freedom and mobility it gave me. First, I planted my hands flat on my dear black brother's steel-velvet chest and, thus braced, put my rump through a series of convolutions that had the effect of sending me off into the asteroid belt like a shooting star. I mean, like the young fellow from Ghent in the limerick, whose tool was so long that it bent ... instead of coming, I went!
Nor was I alone on my golden-tinged giddy journey. As loving as he was adept at the art of it, Terry not only stayed right with me but increased my rapture time after time with little tricks only a past master of fucking even knows exist. A majority of men, for instance, are of the belief that the quickest way to bring a girl on manually is by pressing on or rubbing her clitoris hard.
This is simply not so in any girl I've ever talked fucking with. Direct pressure on the clit does not bring excitation in its wake ... rather it hurts and causes revulsion. That most sensitive of female organs demands a more subtle approach than that of the head-on fingerfucking assault.
It is excited by pressures that rub against it, be they vertical, horizontal or on a bias and its excitation is of great importance in getting a girl's cunt ready to contain a stiff prick. A man who knows how, can give a girl all sorts of jollies by rolling it between his fingers or even tweaking it ... but he must do it gently or it won't have the desired effect of putting her sexual machinery in motion.
Gentle pressures alongside the button or any light but insistent pressure anywhere save at its little tip are bound to take their toll of a girl's self-control and get the thrills started coursing through her and her sex-sap flowing. And in fucking, unless a girl's clit is completely up out of the action, the sliding in and out of the prick past its head gives an added joy to the swogging that ultimately melts into everything else when full orgasm takes over her body.
Terry knew just how to get the most mileage in delight out of my little red button. Even as my bumps and grinds and snap-rolls of my crotch and buttocks were juicing me into outer space on the deep penetration of his Hamitic prick, my black brother worked a forefinger into the front of my cleft, just ahead of his ebon shaft, giving my button a sort of rolling massage that all but put me into rigid orgasm a number of times.
However, this was not a condition I desired, since a girl who attains it remembers little or nothing of the intense joys that sent her there ... and, thanks to Daddy's tutoring of the night before, I was somehow able to push back the rich red tide of darkness each time it threatened to black me out with delight.
I flattened my boobs against Terry's rib cage and kept my streaming cunt bobbing and driving on his codpiece until I could feel his coming begin to gather ... when I sat upright on his massive meat and leaned against the backrest he had made for me by up-bending his knees with his thighs close together. Extending my hands down and backward, I was able to encircle these twin black pillars and get a grip on his lean firm buttocks.
Thus braced, I put my flooded crotch in rhythmic motion once more, circling his scrotum with my juicy cunt in steady rhythm and nipping and tightening my vaginal and cervical muscles around the long, black prick that filled my tunnel to such delightful repletion. While the shift of position delayed his climax, it did not cause him to hold back for long. Within minutes, I felt that involuntary wild throb the length of my cunt; that sure prelude to male orgasm that invariably brings my own cup of joy to running over.
I planted my labia firmly against the base area of Terry's big, black, beautiful dong and there I held it while I milked his spurting cock of its sweetest cream, deep in my core, until the whole world felt flooded with semen and pussy juice.
When at last this memorable piece was over and the great floods of pleasure reduced to little minnow-flicks of afterglow spasms, there I was, still seated on Terry's loins, still leaning back against his thighs, most important still impaled on that eight-inch Hamitic prick that never lay down and died.
I could tell by the yielding of its surface to my muscle-pressure that it was no longer in a state of arousal even though it still filled my soppy tunnel of love to repletion ... and, for the moment, I was quite content to let it lie that way. After all, I needed a little rest and, under such conditions, with that big, black baton still stuffed deep up my hole, how could I lose.
Looking down, I could see the white ring of sperm and pussyjuice around the base of his dong, thanks partly to the hairlessness of his India ink jock. The smoothness of his skin was like satin, yet it was unmistakably male ... as masculine as the black cock that remained upright in my hole even after the thorough hosing it had just given me.
I gave the base of it a tender squeeze with my sopping labia and nymphae and had the pleasure of seeing the ring of white sex fluids thicken and then break as a tiny rivulet made its way slowly down into the folds of his scrotum toward the wrinkled, black sac of his balls. Things like that, after a successful fucking, always give me a charge. I mean, they're so human and natural and sort of gentle after the full, fierce primitive encounter of the sex act itself.
Lifting my eyes to meet my brother's, I said, "Terry, what's with Uncle Jake?"
"What do you mean, what's with him?" Terry countered. "I mean, he's one of us ... and a damned useful member of the family, too. The original Mr. Fixit-and in all fifty states."
I sighed and said, "Okay ... but I don't think any of the rest of you would have taken advantage of me the way he did while I was helpless and blindfolded."
Terry shifted his buttocks under me, and the resulting thrust of his prong in my hole caused me to hang on for dear life as a sweet little spasm went shuddering through me. He smiled up at me fondly, perfectly aware of what pleasure his move had given me, then said, "Maybe not ... Uncle Jake really loves his nooky. He's the cunt-happiest of all of us, and that's going some."
"You can say that again!" I affirmed and gave my vaginal muscles a slow contraction around my black brother's big, black cock that caused it to stiffen if not to grow larger in my sticky-sweet tunnel of love. A quick look around had assured me that the rest of the family present was thoroughly occupied in various ways, and that for once Terry and I could get away with going for a double. Then, too, I had just passed my ordeal by intercourse and I figured I had a right to do what I pleased on this day of all days.
I should have known better. In the Martin family, nobody gets away with anything unless everybody is in on it. I was just getting us rolling with the laziest of easy lateral figure-eights and Terry had just placed his hands on the very top of the inside of my thighs, so that his thumbs could work havoc with my clit, when two strong pairs of arms pulled my already juicing cunt right off the pillar of joy that was making it juice, holding me helpless in mid air ... still mere inches above the cream-covered crown of my black brother's beautiful rigid prick, although I might as well have been a mile above it since none of my frantic downthrusts enabled my hungry cunt to renew the contact it so deeply desired.
It was Leona and Uncle Jake, who had been engaged in a particularly loud, slurpy sixty-nine when last I had examined the scene around me. I had no idea either of them possessed such strength but, working in perfect team together, they held me as helpless as a new-born baby, carrying me to one side of the big floor-bed and dropping me on my rump ... so hard that it shook me and I could not move for a few moments.
My beautiful blonde sister Leona took full advantage of my incapacity to leap like a golden panther atop Terry's black loins and, lowering the boom of her cunt with a sinuous, twisting, corkscrew motion, replacing my hole with her own on that lovely, fully roused pillar of Hamitic meat. In seconds, she was using it to flush her hole joyously with intricate cinder-shifting rolls of her loins and buttocks that wrought instant response in her partner.
As for me, by the time I recovered my senses, I was being finger-fucked and otherwise mauled by the repulsive fat man I had disliked almost at first sight. Uncle Jake's pudgy fingers did dreadful things to my still flooding hole, while his bulging brown eyes bleared into mine and his cunt-like lips sought my own and thrust a thick wet tongue past the barrier of my teeth before I could put a stop to his activities.
His fat, hairy body reeked with sweat and semen and he pulled me under him with all the adroitness of a longshoreman wielding a sack, pushing and prodding me until he was full in my saddle, then ramming his short but over-thick prick right into my reluctant tunnel of love.
Or was it reluctant? Although contact with this repulsive relative made my skin crawl, what happened inside of my hole could hardly be called indicative of any reluctance on the part of the sexual area of my body. Even my nipples stood up at rigid attention as the hair of his chest scraped my boobs and an unwanted flood of pussyjuice was released by the lining of my cunt as that thick, somewhat stubby prick filled its middle and lower portions to bursting point.
All the time, he was pressing my lips with his own and all but choking me with the thickness of the tongue he had thrust into my mouth at the outset. I dug my fingernails into his soft, flabby flanks to repel him, but this bit of desperate sadism seemed merely to increase his heaving passion as, seeming to crush me into the mattress with the dome of his belly, he sent his cock plunging in and out of my flowing cunt with piston-like force and regularity.
I began to feel the thrusts of panic as well as of his thick prick, and all I wanted was to get out of the grip of this man I so hated on sight whose cock caused such treachery in my cunt. The only thing I could think of in my unhappy plight was to bite ... right around the middle of his fat tongue ...
CHAPTER SEVEN
The minute I bit Uncle Jake's tongue, I knew I had done something terribly wrong.
I let go right away, but it was too late. I could taste his blood in my mouth. He reacted as if I were a live wire or something and, with a galvanic leap, he cleared himself from my body, pulling both his tongue from my overstuffed mouth and his prick from my overstuffed cunt.
As he rolled off and came to his knees, he clapped both hands to his face, uttering a series of half-strangled grunts. In a way, it was slapstick comedy, or would have been comic but for the blood that dribbled down his chin ... nor was blood the only fluid his body was spending. His thick, medium-length cock had become a fountain and jetted a series of seminal spurts into the air to fall to the mattress in utter futility.
It was like a tableau. All other action-and there was plenty of it-stopped. Jake and I became the cynosure of all eyes. He wiped his bleeding mouth with a hairy forearm and stared at me, even more bug-eyed than usual, with an expression of sheer disbelief on his fat, ugly face.
Then his eyes became twin slits of fury and he said, "Why, you dirty little bitch!" . With that, he slapped me so swiftly and so hard that I had no opportunity to duck out of the way. The flat of a pudgy hand hit the side of my face so hard that it bowled me over sideways into a tangle of black and white bodies and limbs on the other mattress, where Donna and Daddy had been performing in a variation of position sixteen, with only their fucking pieces in contact.
It was the first time I had been struck with violence since Hotpants O'Houlihan and I had it out over who was going to date the football captain in junior high (he went to the prom with my kid sister Joanie instead and got royally fucked for his pains while Hotpants and I got nothing). So unexpected was it, albeit well-earned, that I could only lie there, half stunned, with the whole side of my head numb and my ear ringing.
Uncle Jake spat out a mouthful of blood on the mattress and made a dive for me. I let out a scream and, finally regaining the use of my limbs, made an effort to scramble clear of his onslaught. But, fat and pudgy as he looked, Uncle Jake was fast as a cat and I was out of luck. As I reached my hands and knees, a cruel fat hand dug into my crotch.
I screeched again as a thick thumb drove savagely into my arsehole and a fore and middle finger dug into my cunt, holding me as helpless as a bowling ball. He curved thumb and finger, claw-fashion, and I really screamed as it felt as if he were going to pierce the barriers of tender flesh that separated my two holes and make them one.
"Daddy!" I gasped, beating the mattress with my fists like a professional wrestler feigning mortal agony ... the only difference being that I was not faking mine. "Help!
My cry caused my ugly attacker to ease up on his excruciatingly painful grip but not enough to permit me to wriggle free. There was another stHl-life bit then, save for Daddy, who calmly reinserted his beautiful curved prick into the coal-black cunt from which I had dislodged it.
When he spoke, it was not me but Uncle Jake he addressed, saying calmly, "What happened, Jake?"
His voice thick from an undoubtedly sore and swollen tongue, my unattractive uncle said, "The little bitch bit my tongue."
Daddy looked at me and said, "Did you, Robin?"
There was no way out. I could only nod. Daddy gave me a long look and said, "That was wrong, Robin. The principle of this family is love." Then, after making the point further by running his dong in and out of Donna's beautifully responsive cunt three or four times, he said to his brother, "Jake, I can't blame you for slapping Robin ... but that's where it ends."
Reluctantly, Uncle Jake removed his fingers from my crotch and I remained where I was, on my hands and knees, feeling like a dog that deserved to be whipped. Daddy returned to his fucking of beautiful black Donna, as if to prove that this was the only form of violence in which the Martin family was permitted to engage with its own members.
Then he paused as Donna's orgasm came to a shuddering halt and said, "Why'd you do it, Robin?"
I felt myself blush all over. What could I say in reply? ... if I didn't, I feared I might be drummed out of the ranks I had just been through so much to enter. I could only hang my head and remain stupidly silent.
Daddy's magical light blue eyes bored into me and, when I lifted my head, I thought I saw a faint twitch at the corners of his mouth. He said, "You won't do it again, will you, Robin?"
"Oh, no, darling Daddy!" I gasped. "I'd rather bite out my own tongue."
Daddy said, "I'm quite sure you would, dear daughter, but I hope such drastic action will not be necessary." Then, to his fat brother, "Jake, you old pervert, how do you feel about this?"
Uncle Jake said, "I feel this little quim made me waste a come ... and I want it back."
This time Daddy did smile. He shook his head and said, "Good old Jake-consistency has to be thy middle name."
"Oh, shove it!" said Uncle Jake. "I want my come back."
Daddy said, "That might prove difficult, Jake, but you're welcome to try. Why don't the two of you go back to the house and get better acquainted?"
Uncle Jake got to his feet and said, "Okay, Les." Then, to me, "Come on, kid, we've got some catch-up fucking to do."
Daddy called after us as I followed obediently, "Remember, Robin, the maxim is love ... oops!"
This last as Donna, tired of the interruptions in her screwing with Daddy, really put her magnificent black body into high gear and, catching Daddy unaware, succeeded in making him climax before he was ready, an act which caused him to lose all interest in us for the time being.
As we walked naked in the early afternoon sunlight across the lawn to the handsome old mansion that was Martin family headquarters, Jake said, "Sweetie, I know I'm no Adonis, but I'm a charter member of this family and I've got a good stiff prick that is worthy of respect. Remember that, and we'll let bygones be bygones."
Once again, what could I say? His forgive-and-forget attitude merely added to the shame I was feeling for what I had done to him ... even though, at the moment, I had been unable to help myself. Again I was forced to drop my eyes and, inevitably, they fell on the prick of my willy-nilly companion. It had already regained its rigidity, apparently at the prospect of an encore in my cunt. The tiny slit at the pink-and-purple apex of its crown was pointed directly toward the sun that was still high overhead. I felt a certain pride in this fact, thinking that it was not every girl who could cause a man to get a hard one while merely walking at his side...
About Uncle Jake, I still had a lot to learn!
When we reached his bedroom-it was kept locked during his absence from Indianapolis family H.Q. and therefore was one chamber I had not fucked in or even seen before-I discovered that, while Uncle Jake was ready, my usually creaming cavity was almost bone dry. Although the room was crammed with all sorts of erotica, Uncle Jake was in no mood to waste time sightseeing. He got onto the bed, which was oval and decorated to resemble a huge mahogany cunt, and lay on his back and said, "Okay, sugar, let's give Willy a workout ... "
I thought that, if I sucked his thick prick for a bit, it would inevitably start my reluctant sexsap to flowing once more ... but my aggressive, fat uncle was having none of that. He pulled me athwart his loins when I tried to bend my head to his cock, crying, "No smoke-um ... fuck-urn!"
When he brought the head of his ready cock upward against the lips of my cunt and discovered them to be dry, he wasted no time in, to him, unessential preliminaries. Instead, shifting his grip from my waist to my rump, he parted my buttocks rudely, thus opening my un-lubricated cunt and then yanking me down forcibly over his howitzer of a prick.
As that thick, rather short dong was shoved into my tender cuntal tissues, I felt as if I were being raped by a carrot. Internally, it seemed to be skinning me alive. I moaned and shuddered and tears came to my eyes, sought to lift my cunt clear of its tormentor but found the movement too painful to endure ... even if Uncle Jake had permitted me to get off his dong, which he evidently had no intention of doing.
Blessedly, however, this desperate mini-movement had another, more fortunate result for me. It finally stimulated my recalcitrant vaginal juices. They began suffusing from the myriad sap-glands that lined my tunnel of love and, within seconds, Uncle Jake's thick prick was comfortably ensconced in my velvet-lined hole.
With something that resembled a twinkle in his bulging eyes, he grunted, "I guess that makes us even, honey. Now, let's have some fun."
* * *
Uncle Jake was the first really fat man who ever fucked me. Granted, his cock was not as long as those of the other males in the family, but its thickness was phenomenal ... and he certainly knew how to put it to the best account. Where men with longer dongs tend to plunge and thrust with their mast-like codpieces, Uncle Jake had evolved a series of techniques calculated to exploit his own dimensions to the utmost.
Continuing to grip my pelvis with his strong, pudgy hands, he pushed me down on his loins so fully and so firmly that my labia felt as if they were going to be squashed between our frontal bones. But the sensation was anything but unpleasant and, as the minutes went by, it became a source of pleasure, giving me voluptuous sensations of a sort I had never before enjoyed-not major spasms, but a pleasant addition to those secondary sweetnesses that, merged with the big O, render an orgasm exquisite...
Instead of basing his fucking technique on thrust and withdrawal, Uncle Jake Martin mounted his system on constant horizontal movements. Of these, being a Martin male, he was an absolute master. There was some thrust and withdrawal, naturally, ... after all, you can't really fuck without it ... just as there is some horizontal activity in the fucking of even the most plunge-minded participants.
But, with Uncle Jake, the lateral was the keynote, and he was like a whirlpool bath in my cunt. His loins were never still, always rolling or circling, and that thick prick embedded in my juicing and wide-stretched hole carried me with him. His variations were those of a virtuoso. He would run his baton in wide circles, then stop without warning, causing my still-moving cunt to push one side or the other against that stalled dong ... with shockingly sweet results. Or he would go into reverse, or narrow the radius of his circles ... or, beginning a sequence with tiny circles, he would widen them suddenly or gradually according to his whim of the moment.
At other times, he would slide north and south under me, or laterally, east and west ... or in any other direction that suited his pleasure. Now and then, to bring me to an explosive peak, he would roll from side to side, rocketing me to ever higher plateaus of pleasure ... and his variations in speed of movement were almost as provocative as the movements themselves.
For more excitement, his short, pudgy hands were everywhere, prodding and stroking and pinching and pulling my boobs, my belly, my buttocks, my butt hole and, above all, my clit. With that ultra-thick cock buried solidly in my cunt and all these other wild and wonderful things happening all over me, I soon forgot the fact that Uncle Jake's cuntal penetration was far less deep than that of his brother and his nephews, even Mal, It was there ... and that was all that counted to my reeling and unreeling sensitivities. It was beautifully, seemingly permanently there!
With such terrific action everywhere, I no longer thought of Uncle Jake as fat or bald or too hirsute of body or too ugly of face to make an attractive bedmate. No longer was he the beast toward whom I had felt such instinctive distaste as a fucking partner. He was Uncle Jake and he was all Martin and all male and he was giving me one of the finest fuckings of my exceedingly sex-active young life.
Within minutes, I was coming so hard and so fast that I lost count of the breakers of delight flooding over me. My entire universe became the single ineffably sweet sensation of orgiastic rapture, and my body and mind mere instruments of its expression. I felt his sperm blast upward in my hole twice without causing him even to break the heavenly rhythm of our fucking ... and still that thick prick of his remained stalwart in my juicing hole.
Both our bodies became oiled with sweat as the long workout continued and I began to make little contributions of my own as, unrequested, they occurred to me, or rather to my fucking machinery. I set up counter-rhythms to his and the result was delightful chaos where our sopping organs were piping the music of the spheres between my legs. To gain better support for such activity, I even turned his obesity to advantage, resting my forearms atop the curve of his belly as if it were a hassock, to give my tail greater mobility ... and then I really put my backfield in motion, making it dance in a myriad of movements to a myriad of rhythms.
This time, while I was briefly between tremendous peaks, I felt the bucking of his precious prick and rammed my cunt down around in just as hard as I could, to receive my uncle's heavenly load as deeply as possible in my streaming guts.
For the time being, this did it for both of us. We ground slowly to a halt, with occasional little flurries of frenzied activity as after-spasms gripped me, until at last we were perfectly still, disheveled, dripping with sweat and sex-sap, my head collapsed on the great round rise of his hairy belly. But his prick, although slowly diminishing, was still firmly within the gates of my sopping cunt, and I was still reacting to it, however faintly, even on the edge of sexual exhaustion.
Again I read a twinkle in Uncle Jake's bulging eyes and he said, "Not so bad as you thought it would be ... what?"
I hugged his belly, rubbing my flattened breasts against it and thrilling to the coarseness of the hair against their firm but tender flesh. I said, "Oh, Uncle Jake ... you're marvelous. You really know how to ride a girl right up to heaven and beyond."
He chuckled with justifiable smugness and said, "Stay with Uncle Jake, sugar ... you ain't felt nothin' yet."
As I looked at him I did not see how I could ever have found him repulsive. What woman can ... with a man who has literally sent her to paradise and then brought her gently back? Even the features I had found disgusting ... the blobby nose, the bulgy eyes, the cunt-like mouth, the baldness, the overall pudgy grossness ... had been transformed into lovable symbols of the joys he had so lavishly given me.
I lifted my boobs from his belly and planted a loving kiss on his navel, which was the kind that sticks out like a new lipstick protruding from its tube. As I tongued it lovingly, I felt his body stiffen ... and then the part of it that mattered most to me was regaining its sizing, its stiffness, above all that delicious thickness that stretched the middle and lower portion of my tunnel of love to the snapping point.
"Why, Uncle Jake!" I cried in girlish glee. "I didn't dream you had a belly-button fetish."
"Like I told you, sweetie, there's a lot you don't know about your Uncle Jake."
"And there's a lot you don't know about Robin," I gaily replied. I've always found it hard to treat any man with his prick in my hole as a senior whose years demand respect. The only thing which gains respect from me is the way he wields the precious instrument with which a kindly Mother Nature endowed him.
Lifting my left leg straight upward, I turned slowly to the right, bypassing the Capitol dome of his belly until, when I lowered it once more, I was riding his loins side-saddle. He was quick to pick up the idea, of course, and his hands slid fore and aft to my centerpiece, steadying me, which was important since that big pot of his made things a bit crowded on my port side.
By way of a couple of added bonuses, the little finger of his right hand diddled my arsehole delightfully, while his left little finger dug deliciously into the top of my frontal cleft to play grace notes on my stiffly protruding pink clit. Otherwise, he let me take charge this time, more or less just lying back to enjoy it.
Not that he remained completely inert. He had the sweet little trick of unexpected motion, usually time these small bursts of activity so that they would do both of us the most good ... usually just as I was on the downslope from a big orgasm, thus triggering me right back up there again. When, at length, his fourth time came, he tightened his fore-and-aft grip on my pelvis and anchored me to his loins while his life-fluid spurted past the flanged gates of my womb and floated inside that gloriously aroused organ.
After this, we were both shot down, so we rested for long, lazy moments, bathed in our own and each other's sweat and sex-sap. Only then, lying on my back for the first time, did I discover that the ceiling of Uncle Jake's room was a solid mirror. I recalled that, more than once while we were fucking, I had noticed my uncle's bulging eyes apparently staring aimlessly upward at nothing. Now I knew that his regard had not been aimless at all, but had been giving him added pleasure by viewing our activities even while engaging in them.
I sat up and pouted and said, "It's not fair for you to lie on your back all the time, Uncle , Jake. That way, you're the only one who gets to watch the fun."
He glowered at me in pretended anger and snapped, "It's my room, ain't it?" Then, chuckling and patting his huge corporation, "Besides, you'd have one hell of a time fucking me in any other position."
He had a point there, I decided, maybe in more senses than one. I sat up and, with consciousness returning, began to take more notice of the room. During our rush to the bed, I had been vaguely aware that everything it was furnished with had erotic intention or meaning, including that yoni-shaped bed itself.
Below the mirror, the room was girdled by a frieze of Sagittorian centaurs and nymphs and satyrs performing every imaginable sort of sex, portrayed in what I had already come to recognize was my gifted French-Canadian half-sister Cherie's brushwork. The room's two armchairs were cleverly designed to resemble naked females with their legs wide apart. The long table between them was supported by carved wooden-likenesses of couples engaged in anal fucking, while lamps, ashtrays and everything else it contained had a strictly sexual motif.
Feeling a need to cleanse my sex-soaked body, I slid from the bed and entered the bathroom adjoining, just beyond the sliding doors of the big wardrobe closet. I found the light switch just inside the door and flicked it on ... and gasped. The entire room, floor, ceiling and walls, was of mirror glass. In fact, walls and ceiling were one, since the chamber was shaped like the inside of half a gigantic egg. The large end was the entrance, while the third of the room that became the smaller end, was a sunken tub, also of mirror. The other needed implements that compose a bathroom were placed strategically along the walls at either side.
This, I thought, was something ... really something ... and my new-born admiration for Uncle Jake grew apace. This was the sexiest John I had ever seen, or even thought of ...
As I admired it, Uncle Jake's short hairy arms closed around my waist from behind, and his homely head appeared on the opposite wall over my right shoulder. He said, "Hey, honey, ready for water sports?"
The stiffness of the up-thrust prick that nestled in the top of my rear cleft informed that whether or not I was ready, my uncle certainly was.
CHAPTER EIGHT
We half slid our way into the tub.
Uncle Jake held me with his back to him and lifted his knees as he reached a semi-horizontal position; nor did it take long for him to lift me so that the stout cock that was pressing so sweetly into my dorsal area was pushing even more sweetly into my churning cunt from behind. Even though his cock was relatively short and even though, in this position, its penetration was not as deep as when we fucked front-to-front, his amazing ability to employ it laterally soon had me hugging his thighs tightly while my juices flooded us both and I was again off on the wings of ecstasy.
Unexpectedly, we both came quickly together and I rejoiced as his sperm shot upward in my tunnel, then settled down for a longer haul. But Uncle Jake checked my activity by gripping my bouncing buttocks and holding them firmly in place with my sopping labia pressed flat against his scrotum and that short, thick pillar of joy still stiff in my wet-velvet tunnel.
It was sweet as a popsicle where it was, but I craved more action and said so, at the same time straining my rump to free my tail from Uncle Jake's grip ... but despite my very best efforts, he held me right where I was.
"Turn the water on, honey," he told me, "and make it hot."
"I'm trying to make it as hot as I can," I replied, "but you won't let me."
"The water, Robin," he said and, pulling my sex-scattered wits together, I reached past his raised knees for the silver faucets and obeyed.
We remained where we were until the water had risen within a few inches of the rim of the sunken tub, when he told me to turn it off. Not knowing what was coming, I was content merely to enjoy this delicious water therapy, finding pleasant reassurance in that, at least, my hole was not empty.
"Child," he said from behind me, "I want to talk to you. There's still a lot you don't know about our family."
Just like darling Daddy, Uncle Jake was one of those rare (at least I've found them rare) men who can conduct a serious conversation while maintaining his prick in a girl's cunt. At first, I had not known how to take this, but after a while, I not only accepted it but was delighted to have my serious briefings rendered thus so much more palatable.
Besides, neither Daddy nor Uncle Jake was a man who would leave a girl he was fucking without her share of goodies very long ...
"You're about to be given unusual advancement and responsibilities for anyone so young and so green," he told me. "You know why, of course ... "
"Because of my E.S.P. rapport with Daddy, I suppose."
"That's it. There was a time when your father and I hoped your mother would work with us ... that was when we were just beginning our operations. But ... well, you know how your mother is. For some reason, she went straight Protestant Christian, and we have had to do without her. More than once there has been need for her powers ... but she has made up for her dereliction by producing you.
"Unfortunately, I'm as psychic as a doorknob," he went on. "What gifts I have run in a much more mundane pattern. Naturally, we aren't going to put you on your own until you've been thoroughly tested ... so don't be afraid. We have our first convention during in Springfield next week. We always open there.
"Until now, while we keep offices open in Los Angeles, California, and in New Jersey, we have always toured as a unit. If you work out, honey, we can send out two teams simultaneously and reap double rewards. So you see why my brother and I are advancing you so swiftly ... I only hope not too swiftly."
"Speaking of working out," I said, "if you don't give my cunt a workout right now, I'm going to blow my mind."
"Spoken like a true member of the Martin family!" he said admiringly.
With that, the lecture went into recess and the hands that had been holding my rump in thrall began guiding it in slow circular motions that caused their owner's cock to put pressure on every part of my cunt it could reach. Then, without warning, he began moving my crotch rapidly back and forth sideways, and this sudden change in the action caused my barely held dam against orgasm to burst.
I could no longer be restrained as wild delight raced through my throbbing body, and I began to lift my cunt and mash it down time after time in a rhythmic beat of which my flooding, churning guts could not seem to get enough. This motion caused the water in the tub to ripple so violently that it overflowed the tub into a sort of gutter surrounding it for just that purpose.
When I felt his jock expand still further and begin to buck in my sluicing hole, I jammed myself down over it even harder to savor to the full the delicious sensation of having his sperm add its inundation to the flood of pussyjuice already making a bathtub of my tunnel of love.
When it was over, we left the tub and dried one another off and I scented myself with cologne and put my dark red hair in order before going down to join the others for dinner. By then, of course, I was hungry as an unfed panther, thanks to the great amount of healthy sexercise I had enjoyed since breakfast.
* * *
like breakfast, dinner was served buffet style, with a variety of stomach-warming tureens and bowls and platters lined up on the long sideboard. Once again, Duke and Luana had done themselves proud while Uncle Jake and I were upstairs. Rich chicken gumbo and an even richer oyster stew in the two big soup tureens. The roasts included a huge turkey with chestnut and mushroom stuffing and an immense twelve-pound boneless top sirloin almost three inches thick, ruby red in the oozing center and charcoal black on the outside. There were potatoes, a huge compote of mixed green vegetables, rolls, butter, a tossed green salad and pitcher of milk and iced coffee or tea. For dessert, there were deep dish apple pies and a large black-and-white layer cake so lovely it seemed a crime to cut into it.
While there was no taboo against alcoholic beverages in the Martin clan, we seldom if ever seemed to drink while we were at home and together. I mean, like who needed any extra stimulation with all that we had going for us?
As a sop to formality, we all dressed in something for the evening meal ... the boys in open, colorful sports shirts, the girls in little, bright bolero jackets that left our boobs free to bob and swing unhindered. Naturally, we wore nothing below the waist ... after all, in this family, it could be a nuisance at any time to have passage to our genitals impeded by clothing.
* * *
After dinner, Daddy and Uncle Jake walked me back to the chapel where I had undergone my delicious ordeal by fucking earlier in the day. There, Daddy explained to me that it was time to indoctrinate me in certain parts of the pagan ritual that was the Martin family's livelihood ... parts that had been withheld until I passed my physical that morning.
The altar, which had been hooded during my earlier chapel session was now unveiled. It proved to be a twin to the grotesque statue of Pan-Priapus I had seen during my brief visit to the Chicago office, a monstrous prick rising from a caricature of a satyr-like little man with a goat beard.
"As a priestess of Pan-Priapus," Daddy told me, "you will be official wife-mistress of the god before you. In the climax of the ritual, after fucking the male acolytes, you will be required to fuck Preepy himself."
My mouth fell open as I regarded the monstrous diameter of the effigy's caricature of a prick and thought with a shudder of the inadequate diameter of my hole. Obviously, the whole idea was impossible.
Turning to Daddy, I said, "Darling Daddy, you're putting me on!"
They regarded me solemnly, and I felt fear stir just below my diaphragm ... but then they looked at one another and began to break up. Uncle Jake tousled my reddish curls with his short thick fingers, and Daddy's smile widened and grew until it became his wonderful silent laugh.
"What's so funny?" I demanded.
"Your expression, dearest of daughters." Daddy gave my pubic hair a loving little tweak, added, "How much of that super cock do you think you could work into that darling little coozy of yours."
I said, "If I ever worked any of that stovepipe prick into my coozy, it wouldn't be darling or little any more."
"Jake, a point well taken," said Daddy. "Shall we show Robin how it works?"
Jake led me in front of the insane statue so that I was standing right over the prepuce of that enormous dick. It appeared to be carved of solid ivory, and there seemed no way in which I could encompass its nine-inch diameter with my much too little hole ... not even with a gallon of lubricating oil or cold cream ... no way, no way at all, at all ... or so I thought.
"Come on, honey," said Uncle Jake, giving my rump a hoist upward. "Put your lovely little feet in those slots in the statue."
They weren't exactly slots but they were footholds ... and, once I placed my feet in them, I was sitting eye-to-eye with this-likeness of old Preepy, with my rump resting on the round dome of his gigantic codpiece. It was chilly and awfully sleek and smooth and the pressure against my crotch made me shudder from the coldness of it.
"Now what?" I said. "That thing makes me feel like the Incredible Shrinking Woman. Do you really expect me to get that thing inside me and live?"
Uncle Jake grinned and said, "All is not gold that glitters, sweetie . . , and all is not prick that prods pussy. Lean forward as if you're embracing Old Preepy ... that's it. Now, see those two Little buttons in the hollow of his neck?"
"Uh-huh..." I could barely make them out, so cleverly were they integrated into the crazy statue's throat, but there they were.
"Good girl!" Uncle Jake beamed at me like a satiated satyr. "Push the one nearest you, honey ... the one in front."
"What's going to happen?" I felt no compulsion to obey.
Daddy moved front and center, said, "Push it, dearest daughter. It's not going to hurt you."
Thinking, Here goes nothing, I pushed . ... and felt the huge round head of the ivory-colored cock sinking under my rump. Down it went ... at least a foot, so that, instead of being eye to eye with the goatish old god, I found myself looking up at him. Turning to darling Daddy and Uncle Jake, I said, "Now what?"
Jake said, "Now, darling ... feel a little knob under your crotch?"
I wriggled my rump and, sure enough, I felt something pushing upward not there when old Preepy was at his peak ... something more my size. When I nodded, Jake said, "Now make sure it's right under your cunt, honey."
"Okay," I said. "What next?"
"Just push the other button and sit tight," said my mischievous fat uncle.
"Not too tight," said Daddy as I obeyed once more.
Something rose out of the tip of old Preepy's prick and slowly penetrated my coozy, something smooth and hard and round of tip that slid into me with the greatest of ease. I sat perfectly still until it ceased growing, with its head just short of the flanged gates of my womb.
"What's it for?" I asked and, recognizing a dumb question when I hear one, added, "I mean, like it could take me a month of Sundays to get any real jollies out of it."
My father and my uncle exchanged a long glance, then Daddy said, "Just push the button back again."
I did, and from then on, I had a wild ride. The dildo suddenly became insanely alive in my rapidly juicing tunnel of lust. Apparently, it was some sort of electric vibrator, and it acted like an upended Mixmaster blade in my guts. I mean, it seemed to be doing everything at once. All I could do was grab old Preepy around the neck and hang on while that plastic prick whirred and whirled and kept jolting around in my twat.
It made me come ... make no mistake about that. It would have made another statue come. In fact, once it got me started, there seemed to be no way of stopping not only its action but my reaction. Finally, when I felt my guts churning to jelly, I cried, "How do I turn this damn thing off?"
"Back button, honey!" cried darling Daddy, who was beginning to look concerned for his prize chick ... meaning me.
I did so, and the animation in my cunt ran down to a merciful halt. I made a move to lift my crotch off the dildo that had given it such a jazzing, but Uncle Jake cried, "No, Robin ... not that way ... not ever! Push the back button again."
Wondering, I did so and felt the stiff dildo slide out of my cunt and back into its niche in the urethra of Old Preepy's prodigious proppy-cock. I finally began to get the idea then and, as I lifted my rump, I pushed the front button in the zany statue's throat. There were murmurs of approval from my audience of two as old Preepy's prick rose once more to its eye-popping peak.
"That's one way of ending a ritual serving of our god," said Daddy. "But only when you want your audience to believe you've out fucked him. Usually, it's better to push both buttons simultaneously once you've stopped the interior action. That way, when you climb off, you won't seem to be leaving even a temporarily unstiff divine prick behind you."
"But can't the audience see I'm not really being fucked by a statue?" I asked.
Daddy pulled me against his side and gave me a hug and said, "Not the way we work it, daughter dear. Not with the audience twelve feet or more back and with the lights working their magic." A pause, then "Jake, get Leona in here and let's show Robin how it works." And, when Uncle Jake had departed, "Dearest of daughters, it hasn't failed yet in thousands of demonstrations. Remember, you and the god are always in profile to the audience, which makes it look even more as if you were getting a real fucking.
"We even let privileged acolytes prepare old Preepy's prick by oiling it up for the job it appears to do."
I said, "But, Daddy darling, why bother with the dildo?"
Because simulation is never as convincing as stimulation ... and when Preepy's inner prick gets vibrating in a cunt, that cunt's owner is getting fucked and no mistake, either by herself or by her audience."
"Amen to that," I said.
"Sometimes, we have even let medical men examine a priestess after such a divine servicing. There's a gizmo rigged for a seminal emission in the dildo and there's never any question about the priestess being thoroughly aroused. So far, we have acquired more than a dozen physician members of our cult." A pause, then with a half-smile, "And sent at least as many running to their psychiatrist's couches. Ah, here we are ... thank you, Leona."
Lovely Leona flipped a hand and said, "-likewise, I'm sure." Uncle Jake had evidently briefed her on what we wanted, because she climbed aboard old Preepy's horrendous horn without asking what for, looking like a golden princess of Lilliput doing her best to get diddled by Gulliver.
Uncle Jake moved around behind the statue and got to work on the lighting. First, the chapel was cast in dimness, then the statue with its beautiful human passenger was lighted eerily from underneath.
Moving her beautifully curved body like a dancer in slow motion, my blonde half-sister performed the ritual of servicing old Preepy with a skill that left me breathless. Even though I was on the inside, so to speak, it seemed to me that this remarkable girl was actually making love to the grotesque old god of sex.
Daddy drew me back until we were the prescribed twelve feet from the exhibition, and, as it proceeded, I could hardly believe my startled eyes ...
From a starting point, like mine, eye to eye with the ancient divinity, Leona, while hugging Old Preepy's neck as if she adored him, actually seemed to be absorbing that gigantic cock in a hole I knew to be far too tight to take anything more than a third as thick, if that. Slowly, as the big dong slid downward beneath her rump, her head was lowered as well. From where I stood, I could have sworn that big, big, big prick was right inside her, even though I knew how the gizmo worked.
"But, Daddy, how...? " I asked.
The hand slipped inside my arm gave my left tit a loving squeeze as Daddy took my question for the compliment it was. He said, pointing, "It's all in the lighting, my dearest daughter. Having most of it from below not only gives the entire ritual a supernatural effect not unknown to the makers of Hollywood monster films ... actually, it casts just enough shadow over the area it pretends to illuminate so that Leona really does seem to be getting fucked by our insatiable lord."
Just then, Leona called, "Here goes, everybody ... ivheeeeeee!" This last as she punched the back button a second time and set the dildo mixer whirring in her pussy as, minutes before, it had whirled in mine.
This made the illusion marvelously complete ... rendered entirely convincing thanks to the alliance between flimflammery and a real if artificially induced fucking. There was no question about my beautiful blonde sister getting her rocks off. Beneath the golden sun tan that covered it, her exquisite body took on a roseate hue that verged on purple and her writhings and rollings increased. A clever spotlight picked out the stiffness of her bouncing nipples, assuring the onlookers that this was nO mere simulation.
Thanks to the shadows cast by her gyrating body across the idol of yesteryear, old Preepy actually seemed to flicker into life, with a variety of expressions passing over his grotesque face ... now smiling, now angry, now silently laughing out loud.
"Okay, darling ... come on down!" cried darling Daddy. "We've got the idea. Thank you."
"Just a minute, Daddy," Leona gasped. "I've got one more big one coming on." Her whole body began to quiver violently and, again, she cried, "Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!"
When she had turned it off, she slid gracefully from her perch aboard old Preepy's prick as if she were dismounting sidesaddle. She came up to us, pouting and wriggling her provocative hips, and said to darling Daddy, "You shouldn't have called it off so soon, Daddy."
"Since when have you obeyed that kind of order so quickly?" Daddy countered, plucking her pubic hair fondly. "Besides, I wanted you to save some for me tonight."
"Hah!" cried Leona, tossing her golden mane. "Now you're getting around to me. How do you know I haven't made a date for tonight with Uncle Jake? Or Duke? Or Mal? Or Terry?"
"Because," Daddy said quietly, "even if you had, you'd break it."
Leona looked at me, her eyes wide, her hands open. She said, "How do you like that for male conceit, Robin? Come on, you beautiful thing, let's give them a little dose of Women's Lib-treatment."
She led me to the mattresses that had seen such delightful usage early in the day. I looked at her, and we both giggled. I like an occasional bout with one of my sisters, if only to vary the sex routine ... most do, as a matter-of-fact, though the boys never bugger each other and only do rim jobs once in a rare while. And of all my sisters, Leona was the most fun that way. Not only because she was the most beautiful and sexy as a fucking machine, but because she has such a crazy clit. She can actually work it a couple of inches into a girl's cunt, and she gets almost as big a charge out of using it as she does when she's getting a real fucking. So does the girl she's poking it into, because Leona knows more about sex than Dr. David Reuben himself.
But just as I was opening up my thighs to receive her, she stopped and said, "Oh, those bastards . .
Looking up, I was just in time to see the last of Daddy's rump as he followed Uncle Jake out the door.
I made a move to get up and go after them, saying, "So much for Women's Lib, honey."
But Leona pushed me back on the mattress and said, "Screw them. Let's leave them two girls short for a while and have ourselves a ball at the same time ... "
CHAPTER NINE
Plucking up a large bolster pillow from alongside the assemblage of mattresses on the chapel floor behind the altar, Leona thrust it under my uplifted rump, thus placing my crotch in the most readily penetrable position.
I opened my legs as widely as possible, so that my already well-dampened cunt was thrust even further up front and center for her penetration.
As she settled in my saddle, I savored once again the delightful difference in having such a beautiful girl in my arms. It was one of those moments, mercifully rare for me, when not only did I understand why man's desire for woman is so insatiable, but why so many women prefer members of their own sex to the opposite.
Leona's body was utterly delicious ... so soft yet so firm, so satin-smooth, so velvety against my own. As she lowered that lovely engine of sex upon my own and our boobs met and flattened one another's, a thrill went racing right through me from the soles of my feet to the top of my head ... a thrill as different as day from night when compared with my sensations as a man fucked me. It was a thrill heightened by the quintessential naughtiness of what we were doing, depriving the men of the family of some of their legitimate sources of pleasure, as well as by the access of mutual desire Leona and I had always felt for each other since we first engaged in lesbian pleasures when Daddy had to leave us alone in the Kernstown airport motel.
But this time was better ... the best of all we had enjoyed till then. By this time Leona and I knew each other as well as it is possible for two girls to attain such mutual knowledge, and the sharp spur of desire lay glittering and knife-sharp between us. As our lips and tongues met and merged, as our bodies writhed ecstatically against, each other's soft yet solid flesh, as our boobs made thrilling music in their mutual mashing operation ... as all these wonderful things happened to us magically, with our free hands we dug fingers into each other's genitalia, seeking to add to the fluxes of preliminary pleasure already making our thrusting bodies sing.
Leona cupped a palm over my clit, poking her fingers into my juicing crotch and playing cunning little games there, now rubbing my butt-hole until it tingled delightfully, now massaging my clit with the heel of her hand, now digging into my sopping cunt itself with adroit manipulations of her fore-and middle-fingers to send spasms of early orgasmic rapture winging through me until I was impelled to drum with my heels on the mattress beneath us.
Nor did I fail on my part. I cuddled her coozy and rubbed her rectum and then gently fondled her remarkable projecting clit until it rose ripe and ready to its fullest erectile extent. Then, up-thrusting my cunt as she released it to indicate her readiness for insertion, I pushed the tip of her darling button within the lips of my flooding hole and wriggled as she did until its entry was as full as its length permitted.
As we settled down to a slow fucking rhythm as sweet as honey, I slipped both hands around her churning, gently plunging buttocks and worked my fingers into her crotch from behind on both sides so that she would not lack cuntal stimulation while her delectable super-clit was giving me so much enjoyment.
One of the wonderful things about fucking Leona, or vice versa, lay in the fact that once she was really clitorally aroused, she could go right around the clock. Talk about rocking ... and rolling, too, and all the sweet little extras that spell the difference between a routine piece of tail and a truly great one.
If she couldn't send any sperm winging up into my fevered womb, she could simulate the bucking throb perfectly with her female prick ... if the prick itself were no bigger than a small boy's, well, I had learned how to get my jollies out of that sort of fucking with my kid brother Bill while we were still children. In any event, Leona was so intensely loving and lovable, and there was so much zest in the addition of homosexuality to incest, that I began coming almost before she was in me and I kept right on coming until her clit was abruptly pulled out of my jamming crotch and her struggling, beautiful body lifted right out of my embrace.
* * *
Holding Leona's squirming rump tight against his ivory-hued loins, our burly Eskimo brother, Mal, penetrated her with his flat-topped prick while her legs were still flailing frantically in mid-air and, looking down at me with a leer of triumph, he cried, "Talk about sending a broad to do a stud's job!"
Leona, her quick temper always at hair-trigger, increased her struggles, her lovely long golden hair whirled about both of them and her beautifully big boobs swayed and bounced as if they had lives of their own.
She snarled, "I'll make you eat my shit, you crumb!" but her wild writhing and gyrations as she sought to clear her well-filled cunt from its uninvited invader took their inevitable betrayal of her intentions.
Within a few further seconds, her angry growls had become groans of voluptuous delight as her every little movement made its meaning all too clear to her sex machinery ... and instead of attacking Mal with intent to maim at the very least she was cooperating with his fucking drives into her deliciously damp coozy from behind with every symptom of enthusiastic cooperation.
So vehement were her counterthrusts to the penetrative drives of his thick, stiff dong in her churning guts that she caused him to lose his balance and to stumble over onto his back. But did this stop my wholly aroused blonde half-sister? You know it didn't if you've been reading my story. Mounted on his loins, with her plunging rump toward his face, she assumed the leadership of their fucking and proceeded to run her hole up and down on his pillar of joy as if she were afraid fucking were going out of fashion on the morrow.
Soon, she was uttering little grunts of delight as she completed each down-thrust that brought his prick up into her creaming hole as far as it would go. Her lovely face, which had been lax with passion while she was clit-fucking me mere minutes before, now contorted itself with an ecstasy that was obviously next to impossible to endure.
I felt out of it, forlorn, empty ... even though
I knew this was not the case. Had I been possessed of a clit as remarkable as my sister Leona's, I would have been riding topside on her, and Mal would perforce have had to zero in his hijacking attack on my tail rather than hers. But, since this was not the case, I was out of luck.
So great was my loneliness and frustration that I decided to complete the coitus interruptus by myself. After all, there was old Preepy right behind me, and I knew how to operate his su-per-dildo. I got up and, turning my back on the happy couple, prepared to rest my rump atop the ancient god's outrageous super prick.
I knew there was plenty of tail awaiting me back at the house, tail as splendid as any girl could ever hope to enjoy. At that moment, however, I could not endure even the thought of having to wait the minute or two it would take me to leave the chapel, to cross the brief stretch of lawn and, grabbing the first available male partner, getting his prick embedded in my clamoring cunt.
I was reduced to making do with the best material at hand and, with Malamute so happily occupied in ramming his dong to the hilt, time after time, in his and my half-sister's squirming coozy, old Preepy was certainly the readiest substitute cock available. As I hoisted my rump atop the ridiculous round dome of his oversized cock-head, I felt impelled to address this grotesque phallic divinity as if he were actually alive and living in Argentina or somewhere.
"Preepy," I murmured as I fitted my feet into their allotted slots and settled my crotch over the slight round lump in the top of his majestic prick that would become my instrument of pleasure once I pressed the two buttons at the base of his throat. "Preepy, old man, make it good for Robin. Robin is a damsel in distress who desperately needs your brand of medicine..."
With that, I pressed the buttons ... the forward one once, the one in back twice ... and once again I felt myself sink as his gigantic cock was lowered and then the thick, deep cuntal penetration of the smaller dildo concealed in Big Brother.
Clinging to his neck, I wriggled my famine-stricken tunnel of life until I got all of him into me and felt a swift contentment ease the tensions that were tearing me apart as the sweet round plastic tip of his operating prick slid past the softly responsive flanges that guard the gates of my womb. I looked up at the goatish face of old Preepy and, so help me, it seemed to me that his eyes narrowed and his lips widened beneath the beard and mustache which all but hid them ... insanely, it seemed that this plastic reproduction of a long forgotten ancient god actually smiled at me.
I felt a chill touch of something alien surrounding me ... the sort of chill a child feels when he has to go upstairs in the dark ... and involuntarily I lifted my creaming coozy to clear it, forgetting in my infantile panic that all I had to do was press the neck buttons in reverse order to cause the dildo to slide silently back into the recesses in the tip of the bigger prick.
But I could not lift it more than halfway off the pillar of plastic impaling it ... and when I did move to push the buttons, of course I turned on the vibrator that had given both Leona and myself so much delight earlier ... and once that rod began spinning and shuddering in my full-stuffed cunt, I became far too busy to be concerned about anything else but the sweetness of the sensations that flooded through me.
I came and came again ... and again and again and again. I reached for the button to turn it off in the near-anguish of my delight, but as I looked upward into his face, something forbade my putting a halt to the terrific churning in my flooding guts. Instead, the very persistence of the attack lifted me to a plateau no human prick-no, not even Daddy's delicious curved scimitar of a codpiece-had ever conveyed me.
As my senses lost their grip on reality, I saw visions of a type utterly unfamiliar to me ... visions of a world still young and green, with twisted groves and verdant meadows and hillsides alike and purple with the profusion of wild grapes that climbed their slopes. And everywhere I looked in that landscape of delight, I saw nymphs and satyrs at their erotic play, performing their happy mockery of rape and wild submission at the foot of every boulder, beneath every bush, half out of sight behind the gnarled bole of every tree . ...
And I? I was fleeing, naked, filled with fear both of being caught and fucked or not being caught and not being fucked. I could hear the thudding hoofs of my pursuer and felt a shudder course through my lithe young body as I realized that I was soon to be the victim of his inordinate animal lusts. My virginity was to be sacrificed to Sagittarius, the hideous, half-man, half-stallion king of the centaurs with his gigantic prick quite capable of tearing a mere nymph's insides to shreds . ...
On and on I ran, with the hoof beats coming ever closer until, winded beyond further effort, I sought to look around at my pursuer. As I did so, I stubbed a toe over a rock in my path and took a tumble ... to be scooped up, powerless and gasping for breath, by a pair of hair-covered arms whose strength rendered all thought of resistance futile. I was lifted high, and tossed in the air and turned until, when I came down, my cunt was pierced to its furthest extremity by the rigid pole protruding from his hairy loins and was thus captured, no longer a virgin, and savaged with a swift sweetness that overpowered my senses until I swooned.
But even as he fucked me, I grew aware that this was no stallion's strap in my yielding hole, large as it was. I opened my eyes and saw, not the brutal half-equine Sagittarius but the merry, lustful face of the bearded god of all the fields and woodlands, the joy bringer to all female creatures, Pan-Priapus himself.
And there could be no doubt, from the smile that wreathed his ugly bearded face, as to the extent of the forest god's enjoyment of my lithe young body, whose innermost recesses were penetrated and probed by his prick as if it were a spear piercing a struggling fish. Yet each of my struggles only added to the divine delight that held me captive, and I gloried in having been selected by the divinity until, at last, I passed out cold . ...
* * *
When I recovered consciousness, I was no longer mounted on old Preepy's prick ... I was again lying on the mattresses behind the altar and Mal and Leona and Daddy were bending over me anxiously. I opened my eyes and smiled at them ... and wondered how I had known they were there before opening them.
"Are you all right, Robin?" Daddy asked.
I nodded and tried to sit up ... only to keel right over on the mattress. With Daddy's help, I made it to a sitting position and said to my beautiful blonde half-sister, "Leona, what happened?"
"That's what Mal and I were wondering. When we stopped fucking, there you were, riding old Preepy's prick like a drunken jockey, uttering all sorts of cries in some weird language we never heard before. We were afraid you were going to fall off, so Mal shinned up Preepy and turned him off, and that turned you off so we could bring you down."
My Eskimo brother said, "I didn't know you were a linguist, Robin ... what language were you spouting up there?"
"Don't ask me," I said. "If I hadn't done a blow job on Mr. Dubois, I'd have flunked high-school French. That's the only foreign language I ever studied."
"You sure were spouting something," said Leona.
Daddy looked at her, said, "Can you remember what any of it sounded like, my dear?"
"Jesus, Daddy, I don't know..."
"Try!" Daddy was insistent.
"I don't see how I can get it right," my blonde half-sister pouted. "After all, I never heard anything like it before. Why, Daddy ... is it important?"
"It could be, my dear ... it could be." He looked faraway for a moment, then regathered his senses, regarded his golden girl with a frown, said, "You have an excellent ear, Leona ... I've heard you imitate film stars."
"But that's different," she insisted. "I've heard them all hundreds of times. I only heard Robin do this goofy double-talk once."
"Try..." said Daddy, and while his tone was gentle, it was an order. Leona rolled her beautiful lavender eyes at me and then got serious and got her recall faculties into action. After a few false starts, she began to utter sounds that were absolute gibberish to me.
In a couple of minutes, I stopped her, saying, "Come off it, Leona ... you're putting us on. I never made sounds like that in my life. I wouldn't know how to."
Daddy said, "Shut up, Robin." Then, to Leona once more, he asked if a sound she had pronounced one way hadn't been something else. Evidently, Daddy was right as usual, because her beautiful golden eyebrows rose and she nodded and said it was his way.
Then she added, "So what, Daddy? What difference does it make whether she said it my way or yours?"
"Leona," said Daddy, "much as I love you, sometimes you can be an insensitive little idiot. Now I want you to join the others at the house. I wish to talk to Robin here ... alone."
Leona's lavender eyes flashed danger signals. In an ominously calm tone, she said, "Does that mean Robin gets to sleep with you for a fourth straight night?"
Daddy regarded her steadily until her defiant gaze dropped. Then he said, "That was not my original intention, Leona ... have you forgotten that you are my daughter? "
"I'm trying to," she said with a flash of bravado. Then, half sobbing, "But it's not easy." With that she fled from the chapel, running so fast her lovely, long, golden hair streamed out behind her like an old-fashioned automobile radiator cap.
Daddy turned to his Eskimo son, saying, "Mal, go after her. See that she is taken care of until she gets out of this mood she's in."
"I'll try, Dad," Mal said stoutly, "but I don't think she'll straighten out until you catch up on your fucking with her."
"Ridiculous!" I could sense darling Daddy's mounting anger. He said, "If she brings the matter up, remind her that she was most-favored daughter until Robin arrived ... also, that Robin, in turn, may be displaced in the role. You might also remind her that, if she tries any more nasty little tricks on Robin, she'll be out of the family for the rest of the year."
To my surprise, Mal blushed fiery red all over. He stared at Daddy with something close to awe, saying, "How did you catch on, sir?"
"I'm quite aware of all my children's educational shortcomings," said Daddy, "and that included Leona's pitiful pretensions to knowing any ancient Greek. When I quizzed her just now, she gave herself away ... more than once, I might add." A pause, then, "By the way, I'm surprised at you, son ... I thought you had a stronger sense of family solidarity."
"I'm sorry, sir." Mal sounded as if he meant it. A brief pause, then, "But surely, sir you know how persuasive Leona can be with a man when she has his cock in her cunt."
"I dare say..." said Daddy with a thoughtful cast of tone. "But don't let it happen again ... and see that she gets into no more trouble."
"I'll do my best." Strong and stocky but with his dong dragging, Mal moved toward the chapel door. After him, Daddy called, "If you can't handle her, let Jake do it."
He turned toward me again and even in repose the scimitar that dangled from his loins was a thing of beauty I longed to resurrect. But he held me at arm's length and said, "Now, darling daughter, I'd like to hear what happened here after we left. I've already heard Leona's account and dismissed it as fraudulent. But I'd like to hear yours."
* * *
We sat Turkish fashion on one of the mattresses, facing one another and with our lower legs touching. As I told him of how Mal had interrupted my lesbian session with Leona and of how I had mounted old Preepy and of the strange vision I had had while being fucked by the plastic dildo, his wonderful light blue eyes became .luminescent and his expression became one of deep inner excitement.
He said "Then it was not all lies ... you say you were talking to old-to Pan-Priapus-when the vision overcame your consciousness as he fucked you?"
I nodded, gently kneading his still-quiescent prick and gave him such sparse details as I could remember. When I had finished, he fondled my boobs lovingly and said, "Robin, did you ever hear of the 'gift of tongues?' "
I nodded and told him I had. It was a not uncommon feature of seances and occasional revival meetings around my home town of Lakeville. When some people are overcome by religious hysteria, they seem to babble in strange languages. Since my step daddy didn't believe in religion much, I had never heard anyone who had the gift, but Hotpants O'Houlihan had and told me all about it.
"Hotpants says it sounded to her like double-talk," I finished.
Daddy put back his head and laughed and then said, "Just between the two of us it is. But it has its uses in our profession."
"You mean I've got it?" I found it hard to believe. "My vision seemed awfully real, though."
Daddy said, "I'll be damned!" Then ... whether at my unsuspected new talent or at the fact that, under my kneading, his beautiful prick had fully come back to life ... of this I was never to be sure ... nor did I give a flying fuck in hell.
CHAPTER TEN
What I got, of course, was not a flying fuck in hell ... rather, it was a flying fuck in heaven. Thanks to the talent for sexual ingenuity that seemed to run in the Martin family, plus the delightful experiences we had shared so plentifully since Daddy first picked me up, with neither of us knowing who the other was, in the restaurant of the Kernstown motel, we had the happy facility of being able to fuck perfectly naturally from whatever positions we found ourselves in when we got the impulse to unite our bodies.
Seated as we were, facing one another on the comfortable mattresses, we almost seemed to flow together. Daddy's arms gripped my slender waist and I lifted automatically, unlocking my ankles and spreading my legs wide as he pulled me onto his lap and extended his own lean, beautifully muscled lower limbs so that his loins were pushed forward and his sweet scimitar with the blunt, off-center tip, slid into my sweetly suffusing hole like a homing pigeon.
It was a perfect bulls eye as usual. In, in, in it went, in and upward, all the way with that excruciating pressure on the left side of my flooded tunnel of love, until its imperial head pushed past the flanges that guarded the gate of my womb and on into that ultimate organ of intimate delight.
Resting my arms atop his shoulders, with my hands clasped behind his neck, I used their purchase to lean backward slightly, wriggling and thrusting my cunt downward and ahead to render our union even more complete. When at last this perfect fusion of our fucking pieces was achieved, I tightened my grip around his neck so that my nipples, spiking outward from the fullnesses of my boobs, brushed the firm flesh of his chest.
Our lips met and merged, as did our tongues in a delicious tango, and for long, ineffably delirious moments, we remained absolutely still save for the lilting licks of our tongues inside each other's mouth. But such a stillness, unlike the stillness at Appomattox, could not endure for long.
Inevitably, my body thirsted for the thrill of crushing contact with this man I loved and lusted for beyond all other males ... my father, whose sperm, infiltrating his sister's womb, had spawned me. Out of such a union and such a birth, the incestuousness of our relationship seemed in no way a violation of any moral code. Rather, in its sheer magnificence of sensation, it seemed to transcend all mere man-made moral law and to approach the mightier truth of divinity ... "
Father and sister had spawned daughter-me-and now it was altogether fitting and proper that father and daughter should repeat their union behind the altar of the ancient god. As I hugged him close until the flesh of our torsos seemed to fuse, I perforce lost a little of the length of paternal prick in my sopping tunnel of delight ... so, fearful of losing that pillar of joy entirely, I not unnaturally tightened the muscles of my vagina wall to hold the rest of it in my juicing guts ... and this battening of my hatch as it were, brought on the full force of the hurricane....
As my breasts were smashed flat against his chest, I drove my cunt downward ... and darling Daddy drove his curved cock upward, seeking like me to retain full insertion in my reactivated hole. Result ... our hairs met with a liquid sound that was almost a splash, and then, with our union once more complete, we began grinding our fucking pieces around and around in one continuous thrust lest, by withdrawing even slightly, we should lose the delirious delight of being entirely at one with each other.
My cream flowed more heavily still until its slippery-stickiness glued our genital tissues together with little soppy sounds as our movements broke temporarily the surface tensions it established. As always, we moved like a single person, a realization of the hermaphroditic principle which should be the aim of all deep lovers, attaining a unity not merely of movement but of sensation as well. Daddy's cock and my cunt melted into a single organism and, it seemed to me, that I could feel not only my own flooding delight as orgasm claimed me but every sensation my father felt as well ...
Somehow, even through the overwhelming shocks that made a Chinese gong of my body, I knew that this was Nirvana and that it was vital to both of us to maintain it as long as possible. For the first time, while I was fucking and being fucked by darling Daddy, I could feel the rapport of our psyches as well as of our corporeal bodies. The flow of our delight was heightened by the extra-sensory perception we both shared, and, thus united, I could forestall each little movement of his prick that Daddy intended, just as he could sense what I wanted to do with my creaming cunt almost before I had thought of it.
When I felt the sudden trout-leap of his prick in my hole, instead of thrusting down on it and burying it deep and still in my womb during ejaculation, this time, I kept right on grinding my pussy around its base, if anything adding special fillips to our union of climaxes in an effort to lift our delight to an even higher plateau. As his seed spurted upward into me, however, I was forced to grab my father tightly and hold him close, close, close until, making a milking machine of my vagina, I had drained every last drop of his discharge from his lovely curving codpiece.
Still holding me as tight as I was holding him, Daddy rolled up over on our sides, so that we could rest during the aftermath such a dream-fucking entails without even the briefest of separations. We were both dreamily aware, of course, that we had achieved a towering perfection of pleasure in this encounter that we had never attained before ... not even during the most frantically sweet pieces of tail we had already so often enjoyed to the hilt.
I could not help whispering, as we lay there in a state of sublime stickiness induced by the merger of my pussyjuice and Daddy's sweet semen, "Has it ever been this great with anyone else, darling?"
I all but died of jealousy when he nodded and said, "Yes, divine daughter ... just once before."
"Who was it?" I had to ask, even though I dreaded to hear the answer. If it were Leona, I knew I was going to be miserable.
"It was with Edna ... your mother," he replied, and the relief I felt was so deep that I wriggled my bottom and experienced a delectable minor orgasm that had the brightness and swiftness of a shooting star.
Then curiosity overcame me again and I said, "If Mom was so great and you were so great together, why did she run away and marry Harry?"
Lying there on his side, facing me, darling Daddy thrust his marvelous curving cock slowly in and out of my still-juicing cunt a half-dozen times, causing with each stroke, a minor climax that might have put us on the road to another wild explosion had he continued to plumb the softnesses of my inner tissues. But we both sensed that it was not yet time for another so-terrific blaze of beauty, which might well have consumed us both, so he slowed and lessened his thrusts still further until, once more, we were deliciously at peace, with our bodies held sweetly and sweatily close, bosom to bosom and belly to belly and with our fucking pieces completely joined so that my labia were squashed flat against the tender flesh of his scrotum.
He said, "I think Edna's problem was the difference in our upbringing. Our parents separated while we were still very young, and I traveled with my father while my sister-your mother-remained at home with our mother. She absorbed so much of what they call 'old-fashioned religion' that I fear she will never get over it.
Mind you, I like Harry ... he's a free soul and he certainly gave you a fine bringing up, dear daughter ... in fact, I don't see how I could have done better myself."
"I wonder how they all are," I said in a sudden fit of homesickness for the family and town in which I had spent my first seventeen years.
"One of these days," said Daddy, "we'll find out, never fear."
"Poor Mom!" I said with a sigh. "It's hard for me to think of her as a sexpot. She always held herself aloof from the years of fucking the three of us kids enjoyed with Harry and each other. I'm sure she must have known what was going on ... but she always pretended she didn't."
Daddy smiled his marvelous half-smile and said, "I've thought more than once that there must have been some ostrich blood in the Martin line ... and that my poor sister inherited all of it. She has always had the faculty of burying her head in the sand when she didn't want to admit anything she decided was wrong. The only trouble with that, as far as Edna is concerned, lay in the fact that such a position left her rump high in the air and utterly unprotected. Every once in a while, her sex-drive would get the better of her, and she'd do something idiotic."
"Like fucking that preacher in Running Water ... and getting caught?" I said.
"That wasn't the first time," said darling Daddy. "Before that, Harry was always able to bail her out. But this last one was more than he could handle alone, so quite rightly he called on me for help."
"Thank goodness for that!" I said fervently. "If he hadn't, I might never have met my real daddy and known the most marvelous fucking in the world."
Daddy laughed softly and clasped me close to him again and our tongues resumed their dance of life, first inside my mouth, then in his, clinging and moving and darting and then separating, to renew their melting contact from a myriad of different angles and degrees.
Needless to say, such upstairs activity was not without reactions downstairs ... and, since we were horizontal already, he employed the simplest of all devices for fucking me ... in short, Daddy simply rolled me over on my back side and, mounting me, thrust his resurrected whang into my overripe twat and opened me up as if he were using an electric can-opener.
To abet our completeness of contact, he got a good grip on the underside of each of my thighs and, digging his fingers into that ultra-soft flesh just short of painfully, he spread my thighs flat out against the mattress at right angles to my plunging body, at the same time lifting my thrashing, soppy coozy so that he could run his dong in and out of its creaming depths just as he chose. As far as I was concerned, his choice was invariably the best.
Strangely, this time, we were man and woman in life combat. The fact that we were father and daughter provided an erotic rather than a psychic bond between our plunging envelopes of flesh. The inner rapport that had enabled us, during our marvelous earlier piece of tail, to anticipate each other perfectly was shut off as if an asbestos curtain had been dropped between us.
This time, we were engaged in the most exciting and rewarding of all human double-aggressions-the effort to fuck one another right into the mattress and through it if possible. Nor was I at all reluctant to surrender rapport for such sportive wrestling. The fusion of souls we had earlier achieved was close to being insupportable for mere mortals like ourselves ... now we needed the mutual reassurance that we were creatures of earth. It was a little as if, having tasted the nectar of divinity, we needed desperately to roll in the dirt from which we were born.
Yet, in this very earthiness, there was both compensation and delight. If Daddy drove his arching prick into my teeming, roiling sex-sapping cunt like a battering ram, my pussy responded like a hungry octopus anxious to ingest completely the massive meat thrusting in and out of its maw. I planted my feet wide apart and proceeded to put my deliciously aching cunt through a series of dance routines that made those of our meshed tongues seem like those taught in a small children's dancing class.
I drove the rounded beak of my pelvic fore-bone up into his loins and scrotum at least as vigorously as he jammed his dripping prick into its recesses ... time after time after time. How often I came I was never to know, since the climaxes swept over me like breaking waves on a rocky coast at the height of an August hurricane.
With a single violent assault, darling Daddy pushed me backward and off my self-made bridge at the upper end, then proceeded to lay his full flat belly down on me and all the time continued to jam, jam, jam his mighty mace in and out of my crazy, creaming cunt as though he were actually an embodiment of the god Pan-Priapus and I were some woodland nymph who had roused both his anger and his lust.
Continuing to crush my boobs with his hard-ribbed chest, he got his hands down to our plunging loins and, gripping me by both buttocks, once more assumed mastery of our revels. He was close to the end of his stamina, as I was all but played out myself, and I could tell, not by psychic rapport but from the beloved and familiar leap of the phallus buried in my softest flesh, that he was about to send another load of the old paternal sperm shooting into my already flooded womb, to come out along my vaginal tunnel until it blended with the sweat and pussyjuice already making a morass of my crotch.
I swung into high gear and managed to attain fulfillment just as the semen came spurting from the tip of his cock with its tiny orifice into the very depths of my seething being. For precious moments that seemed to endure forever but which, once it was over, were as fleeting as cobwebs in a high wind, we reached, by a very different route, the incredible heights of Nirvana in coitus.
We had attained divinity this time, not through our spirits but through our flesh. Hence it was the greater triumph for our incestuous union, even though it was far briefer. It was as if we had turned our backs voluntarily on heaven attained and regained its delights through the service entrance. Certainly, I thought mischievously as we came down from the stars slowly, no father and daughter deserved it more. No father and daughter could ever possibly have serviced one another to greater perfection.
When at last we were all the way back to earth and were enjoying the smoking of sweat-damp cigarettes, I said, "Darling Daddy, why don't you give Leona the swogging she craves? When Leona is unhappy, she wants everybody else to be as unhappy as she can make them. And, Daddy, she's very ingenious that way."
"If she weren't ingenious, she wouldn't be worthy of us," said Daddy, and I thrilled at his inclusion of myself in the word us.
Still, I was not entirely satisfied and said, "But, Daddy, we know what we've got. We can afford to be generous."
He tousled my still sweating head and smiled and said, "Robin, you're truly a noble spirit. What's more, I fear you may be right."
"Then why...? "
"Two reasons, darling," he said. "One, our revelations in this chapel this evening-yours and mine-suggest a need for revamping our program. Two, since we open at Springfield Thursday next, there simply is not going to be time."
Daddy regarded me thoughtfully for a long moment, saying, "Robin darling, have you ever felt with anyone else the ... the oneness ... you and I seem so miraculously to have attained here tonight?"
"Never," I said. "Why? Is it important?"
"I thought better of you than to ask such an idiot question," he said with a note of reproach in his sonorously deep voice. "Of course, it's important. It means I can integrate a program I had to scrap when your mother fled the scene years ago."
"Why did Mom split, Daddy darling?"
He rubbed my tits lovingly, saying, "I can't say for sure. We had psychic rapport, but she lowered the curtain of her mind on me and I couldn't get through. My hunch is that she began to have visions of little horned devils prodding her with their pronged pitchforks."
"That's Mom," I said with a sigh. "Always the born masochist."
He sighed, saying, "You may be right, darling
Robin ... but we have things to do. Come on!" He ground out both our cigarettes and helped me to my feet. We kissed, but our bodies were both so crusted and sticky with the dried and caked fluids that had emanated from them during our sweet and strenuous sex sessions that we gave up the attempt at an encore quickly if ruefully.
"We'll use Jake's bath before we love again," he said, opening the chapel door for me and carefully turning out the lights inside before walking back to the fine old main house with me in the moonlight. For a moment, as the soft night air caressed my flesh, I looked up at the golden crescent in the wine-dark sky and, with the grass pressing the soles of my feet and my body naked to the night, I felt a faint stir of the primeval impulses deep within me that had inspired my vision of times long gone while I was riding the dildo of Pan-Priapus back in the chapel.
Was I reincarnated, born only to pursued and caught by goatish half-men and centaurs who rolled me on banks of moss and fallen leaves beside the clear streams of ancient empires? At that moment, so deep was the feeling of the past within me that I could not have given a definite answer...
I felt darling Daddy's touch, gentle but insistent as he cupped his hand over my rump cheeks and diddled my cleft from the rear with his middle finger. I relaxed and returned to the here-and-now without regret ... for a world without tubs and mattresses was not a world for me.
With the prescience of his understanding of my psyche, he said, "Lost in the mists of time, my dearest?"
"Something like that," I murmured, grateful for his near-magical understanding. "The moonlight does something to me."
"Ah, yes ... the Mother Goddess who ruled the world in woman's name until the triumph of Apollo, god of the Sun," he said ... and though it was Greek to me, I understood.
But I had had enough of magic and mysticism for a single evening. So I said, "The screwy part of it is that, until now, I preferred looking at a ceiling after dark instead of at the sky. Al fresco fucking-phooey!"
"You may find yourself changing in that regard," said Daddy.
I hugged his arm and got us again started toward the beautifully kept up old mansion that was Martin family headquarters and said, "I'm for Uncle Jake's sunken tub at the end of that mirror of eggs."
"Of course you've been there, Robin ... I forgot," said Daddy. At his suggestion, we slipped into the house by a back door and made our way to the second story by a rear stairway. I needed no psychic rapport with Daddy to understand his choice of route. Merely being a girl was enough to inform me without explanation that he wished to avoid the others, especially Leona, while he was doing whatever he planned to do with me during the remainder of that magic night.
Four nights in a row with Daddy ... I felt a thrill pass through me at the prospect, not merely at the prospect of the lush loving that lay ahead but that he had let the regular rotation of nights with his daughters go hang in my favor for so long. It was something a girl could treasure proudly. Four nights in a row with her father against competition of the quality offered so readily by Donna and Leona and Jill ...
Uncle Jake's door was locked, but there was a trick to opening it and Daddy knew it. Leaning close to the knob side of the entrance, he whispered something in singsong tones and then opened it without trouble.
We were afraid Uncle Jake might be asleep, but we should have known better. He was busily punching his thick, short prick in and out of her blue-lipped mouth while he held his head actively, buried in her wildly gyrating crotch. Uncle Jake and my coal-black sister were evidently having a ball on Route Sixty-nine...
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Darling Daddy regarded fondly the expert antics of his brother and the blackest of his daughters as they wriggled and writhed on the gigantic cunt that was Uncle Jake's bed. Then, with a smile, he propelled me gently toward the bathroom door on the opposite side of the super-erotic room.
"Come on, Robin dear," he said, pulling at my arm as I proved hard to move. "Surely, you've seen enough sixty-nines in your life."
But I could not move ... I could not speak. All I could do was point upward at the frieze of classically bawdy murals that girded the room just below the ceiling. There they were ... the nymphs and satyrs and centaurs of my vision, disporting themselves amid suggested hills and vine-covered slopes and woodlands and stream-banks in every conceivable sort of sexual situation.
Daddy's eyes followed my finger and, after panning the frieze, his light blue eyes lowered to meet mine. He read the wonderment in my gaze and nodded and said, "So that's where it came from!"
I nodded, still unable to speak, but I no longer resisted his effort to move me toward Uncle Jake's John with its egg-shaped mirrored walls and floor and its sunken tub at the narrow end. He turned on the water and poured sweet-smelling oil into it that created a gentle white frosting of suds on its rising surface. While the tub filled, we briefly showered together and he held me close to soften my disappointment.
Not until we were in the tub together with the water turned off did he say, "I hope you're not too disappointed, dearest daughter."
I finally found my tongue and cried, "How can I not be disappointed, Daddy dear? I thought my vision was real. I thought I was actually a reincarnation of some ancient wood-nymph born before the dawn of history. I believed it. Now to find that I'm merely a suggestible modern maiden..."
"You, my dear," said Daddy bluntly, "have not been a maiden for at least six years ... thank Pan-Priapus and all the rest of the gods!"
I said, "But it's not funny, Daddy!"
"I didn't say it was, Robin. On the contrary, I find it exceedingly interesting." He pulled me atop him as he half reclined against the round end of the tub and his perfect prick broke water right under my modestly lowered eyes. Quickly, I accommodated it, for I could no more resist its pink-and-purple challenge to delight than, as a child, I could resist a candy bar. In fact, more than once, as I licked it lingeringly with my tongue or reveled in the wonderful tingling fullness its insertion gave my suffusing tunnel of love, I had actually thought of Daddy's curving cock as the most delicious candy bar of all time.
But disappointment and disillusion still blocked my path to paradise as we lay joined by our fucking pieces in that softly scented water. I felt close to tears.
Smiling tenderly, Daddy saw my plight and massaged my soft full boobs and kissed my nipples until they stood up as straight if not as tall as the prick so lovingly inserted in my streaming hole. Then, resting his hands on either side of my pelvic flesh, he said, "If you believed it, it was real, darling. Actually, your vision was as real as it ever was, for these creatures you romped with in your dream were creatures of myth in their own time."
"But, Daddy," I blurted, "how can I ever be a true priestess of Pan-Priapus if I no longer believe?"
"It will be far better if you don't," he replied. "The fact that you had such a vision puts you far ahead of your sisters in the cult. That's what we must discuss with Jake. We must redraw our rituals to get the most out of your visionary abilities ... which, I am quite sure, re-enactment will restore."
I took comfort from his words even though I did not believe them ... almost as much comfort as I took from his prick in my flooding hole, a prick whose existence was so paradisiacally palpable that the question of belief or disbelief never arose. Inevitably, there was movement between our fucking pieces, just as inevitably a rapturous rhythm was set up and the resulting climax that swept over me was nonetheless sweet for having been rooted in disillusion.
There could be not the slightest doubt about the reality of my sensations, and my thrashing rump really made waves in the tiny pool of the tub. I abandoned myself once again to the driving delights of darling Daddy's powerhouse prick in my churning guts and rode on swift chariots of golden sensation to the outer reaches of heaven itself ...
When I came back from this fabulous flight, I discovered that Daddy and I were no longer alone in the tub: Uncle Jake and Donna had joined us. While Daddy and I reprised gently, the blackest of my sisters hoisted herself up against the flat end of the sunken tub, leaning well backward on her hands and opening her bitter-chocolate hued thighs wide so that the jet blackness of her well-creamed crotch was entirely exposed ... and, within seconds, Uncle Jake had his short, thick prick buried to the hilt within the velvet tunnel so lavishly offered him.
At Daddy's suggestion, we both made these fucks short but sweet, after which we adjourned to the big cunt of a bed and forswore fucking while Daddy told Uncle Jake what had happened to me since the two of them had left me alone with Leona in the chapel. Uncle Jake listened without a word, his bulbous eyes narrowed in thought, until darling Daddy had finished.
Then he said, "How are you planning to use the kid?" This with a nod in my direction.
"Back to the Edna principle," said Daddy. "We're still looking for a smash finale for this season." And, as Uncle Jake remained silent, "Well ... ? "
Uncle Jake nodded. Then he said, "It might work. You know the kid better than I do ... think she can carry it? Edna couldn't ... remember?"
"It won't kill us to try it at Springfield," said Daddy. Then, regarding me proudly, "I'm sure Robin can carry it."
"You're the boss, Les," said Uncle Jake with a shrug of his meaty shoulders. "Think we can get her ready in time?"
"I'm sure of it." Daddy drew me close to his side and gave me a loving hug.
Donna said, "Pardon my obtuseness, but what's the Edna Principle?"
It was a question I had been about to ask myself, since I seemed to be stuck with it, though of course I knew it had to do with my mother's long-ago failure to cut the mustard in the wonderful business Daddy and Uncle Jake were then only beginning to build.
So I listened closely, while Daddy and Uncle Jake explained it. The Edna principle had been developed before Daddy had sired enough children, and before they had grown old enough, to: make the act an all-Martin family affair. To make sure it became a family affair, they had used their sister as a high priestess of the cult, giving her the all-powerful, Mother-Moon goddess role. It was only after her defection and reversion to more conventional religion, that they had elevated Pan-Priapus to the supreme godhood with Daddy as the star of the cult in the role of old Preepy's living representative on earth today.
When they had finished, I said, "It should fit right in with Women's Lib."
"Exactly," said Daddy, looking happy at such a display of intelligence on my part. And, turning to Donna, "Sweet child, what do you think?"
Donna ran a black hand across her elegantly high black boobs and said, "The idea is in like hot pants for today and I think Robin can handle it superbly. But some of the other kids may not like it ... especially if it cuts into their part of the act."
We all looked at each other while we digested this. Then Daddy said, "How many of them would you say might object, darling?"
Donna cocked her beautiful black head and said after a moment, "I was thinking of one in particular ... after all, this was supposed to be her year to play girl superstar."
There was no need to say whom she meant ... we all knew it was Leona. Daddy looked thoughtful for a long moment, then said, "You could be right, Donna ... but you know how we all feel about jealousy. It runs absolutely counter to every tie that binds this family together. Therefore, it cannot and will not be tolerated."
"You may not tolerate it, Daddy," said Donna, "but you already got it!"
Jake nodded, said, "She's right, Les. That beautiful little blonde cunt is touchier than an adder with the seven-year itch when it comes to what she considers her prerogatives. She's good and sore right now ... and when she hears about this, she'll blow right through the roof."
"Perhaps," said Daddy, "if we put her in charge of the second unit ... "
"Not a chance," said Donna.
"Why not?" said Daddy.
"For one thing, the kids won't take it ... they know how bitchy she can be at times. For another, Donna won't. She'd never accept road-company status and she won't take separation from you. You see, Daddy, you're too good a fucker for your own good. And that reminds me ... I haven't had the curved cock of yours in this little old hole of mine for. what seems like a month of fun days."
She moved in on Daddy so swiftly and deftly that, even had he had a mind to protest, he was riding her with his again-stiff prick embedded to the hilt in her plunging black hole. I noted with amusement that Donna took no chances of losing this obviously longed-for opportunity to enjoy her father's cock in her flooding cunt once again. For insurance, her long, strong, black legs circled Daddy's rump and her heels dug into her sire's sun-bronzed buttocks as she made sure his sealed-in goodness was locked in tight.
That left me and Uncle Jake ... he lay back against one of the bolster pillows and looked at me, narrow-eyed, over the mound of his belly. His legs were parted and, with his right hand, he was casually pulling his pud.
He said, "Honey, you sure you don't have any religious hang-ups like Edna? I'd hate to be wrong a second time about a high priestess."
"Uncle Jake," I said, "that vision or whatever-it-was I had riding old Peepy's dildo was the first spiritual experience of any kind I ever had in my life. That's why I was so disappointed when Daddy brought me back here and I saw Cherie's frieze around the wall again. I'd actually forgotten about it. I must have buried it in my subconscious."
"You'll do, kid," he told me. "You got your head screwed on right. And speaking of screwing..."
His thick fingers reached for me and I conquered the involuntary revulsion the prospect of screwing Uncle Jake had instilled in me from the first moment I saw how ugly he was. But once he got his prick working in my guts, I didn't give a damn how he looked, he felt so good. Jill said once, when we were girl-talking about the men in the family, that fucking Uncle Jake, to her, was like eating limburger cheese. Once you got it inside you, you didn't care how shitty it smelled. I had to go along with that, because, once he had that thick joint in there, you forgot everything else.
This time was no exception. Our little conference had given his prick plenty of time to recuperate from the multiple workout Donna had given it ... if, in fact, Uncle Jake's cock ever needed more than a couple of minutes' rest.
There it was, popped right into my comfortably creaming little cunt and filling it, from the waist down sort of, so full that it felt ready to burst at the seams. He held my hands and I lay back and we made a sort of seesaw together with our united fucking pieces as the fulcrum. Each time one of us pulled the other up into a sitting position, it resulted in the most marvelous action and reaction where his irresistible prick met and milled around in my all-too-movable object.
No playground seesaw, erected at the taxpayers' expense, ever gave a pair of children the delight and fun the involuntary teeter-totter Uncle Jake and I had contrived gave us. Or, as Uncle Jake put it during a brief lull in our delicious little game, "Kids ought to know about this. Why should they be deprived of their jollies through ignorance, just because of their tender years."
I muttered an unsolemn, "Amen!" and we began pulling on each other's arms first on one side, then on the other, thus giving my free-flowing tunnel of love a delicious lateral swing. Seeking to increase my pleasure, I made a quick switch, pulling on the same arm twice instead of alternating. This caught Uncle Jake by surprise and toppled us both over sideways ... right off the bed and onto the thick carpeting beneath. But it didn't stop our fucking even for a single beat ... As a matter-of-fact, it lifted us to a new plateau of delight and we banged away at each other with our fucking pieces perfectly intersticed until we came together, lying there on our sides, pumping like a pair of rabbits in heat.
Maybe Uncle Jake couldn't fill my hole to the top like his brother and all his nephews save Mal, but he sure used what he had superbly and I never realized I was missing a thing while he was in me. I could almost hear the splash of his sperm against the upper walls of my vagina, so hard and fast did it come. I curled my buttocks in tight and squeezed his pumping, jumping avuncular dong with all my might, constricting and relaxing and then again constricting the muscles of my funnel until I was sure the last drop of precious milk had joined the sticky well of my pussyjuice.
Looking upward as my senses rearranged themselves in order, I saw Donna's black and beautiful head staring down at us over the edge of that cunt-shaped bed, her eyes and teeth flashing in the soft light as she smiled at our activities. When I disengaged and scrambled back up on the bed, I fully expected to see Daddy fucking her dog-fashion from behind. But Donna was alone on the bed, lying flat on her belly across it.
"Where'd Les go?" asked Uncle Jake as he scrambled aboard right behind me.
Donna rolled over on her side, long and lovely as a statue of ebony but a hell of a lot more alive than any statue.
She said, "He got thinking about Leona. He decided he'd better try and knock some sense into her, and I had to second the idea. He seemed to think you could take care of both Robin and me without calling up any reserves."
Uncle Jake brushed imaginary lint from a thick naked forearm and said, "Child's play-a mere bagatelle?"
"Oh, yeah?" said Donna, pulling him on top of her. "Let's see how much you got left ... Hey, not bad. Not fed!--bad!" The last with a change of tone as our indefatigable uncle winged his prong home in Donna's ever-ready cunt.
As they settled down to a juicy, leisurely piece of sweet tail, I remained on the edge of the action. After all, I had done a lot of fucking and sucking already that evening and undergone a weird mysto-emotional experience. Besides, I always liked to watch Donna fuck. With that long, lean snake-graceful elegant black body of hers, she brings so much class to the act of love that it's like watching a great porn movie live ... only I never saw a broad in a blue film who could compare to Donna either in looks or style.
That girl loved to fuck as much as I do ... and nobody could possibly love or enjoy it more. But when she contained a man' cock in her cunt, she made something special out of it, like when she had made a sort of pitcher plant out of her body, a beautiful plant ingesting a beautiful insect. Not that I'd ever think of Daddy as an insect ... that was just to make the metaphor fit better.
After watching for a while, however, I wanted in on the action again and slid up close and rubbed the front of my body against their sides and then hovered over their hyper-active crotches and finger-fucked both of them even while Jake's prong was pistoning out of the sluicing sleeve of Donna's rolling, thrusting, snapping cunt.
In no time at all, my own hole was juicing white cream as thickly as Donna's, even though I was not actively engaged in sex.
But I was really craving.
One of my blackest sister's long arms snaked around behind her and grabbed hold of my left boob and began pulling me around alongside the happy couple. Then Uncle Jake was in the act with his shorter, stronger arms and the two of them handled me like a doll until we were all lying on our sides and I was clutching my knees against my belly and boobs with my fully exposed bottom lying right between their heads.
Holding me firmly in place with their four hands and without breaking the beat of their own fucking, these two darlings got me into their action in the most ingenious and delightful way imaginable-for while Uncle Jake began lapping my clit and cunt with his thick, rough tongue, Donna used her snake-like mouth organ to attack me from the rear, mouthing the taut little ring of my arsehole and then moving forward until the tip of her tongue toyed with the rear of my fucking hole just as Uncle Jake pulled his out of the front of it.
Thus their two tongues met right over my pulping pussy and they played with each other all over that sensitive surface like a pair of tiny dolphins sporting in water. Of course, there was no water in that area just then but my flooding pussyjuice and their saliva made more than adequate substitutes.
The novelty of my position, as well as the adroitness of the two-tongue assault on my sex pieces caused me to come early and hard, clutching my thighs tight against myself and rolling back and forth as they made sweet sport of my previous frustration. When at last it was time for them to come, they held my writhing, plunging body firmly affixed to its place on the bed and launched such an attack of my underside, coinciding with their own cresting peak, that we all exploded together in a truly delectable super-climax for three.
There was a lot more fucking and sucking before Uncle Jake and Donna slept the sleep of exhaustion ... but while I was at least as beat as they were, I found myself unable to sleep. Real or false, that vision of life and love in a prehistoric times, had shaken me to the depths of my being. Even as I stared at Cherie's erotic frieze of capering, fucking, sucking and buggering nymphs and satyrs and centaurs, they seemed to come alive, twining together and dancing just out of my range of vision, all the time mocking me with their sly, enigmatic pagan smiles...
At last, I could endure it no longer. Leaving Jake snoring sonorously with his face buried in Donna's elegantly black boobs, I slipped from the bed and, not troubling to clothe myself, tiptoed downstairs and out into the yard. It was darker now, since the moon had long since set and there were only the golddust of the stars to light my way, but I crossed the lawn once more to visit the chapel, impelled by an irresistible urge to test my reaction to old Peepy's secret built-in dildo.
I had to know if my vision was a one-time thing or if it was something that would return whenever the original conditions were reproduced. The uncertainty was really bugging me, blowing my mind...
But, just as I approached the darker rectangle of the chapel door, I heard something that stopped me cold. Somebody was in there, somebody was moving around, somebody was coming directly toward the door outside of which I stood. I had no idea who it could be, hence had no desire to be seen until I had learned the mover's identity, so I darted around a corner of the building, a corner partially masked by a vine through which I could peep without revealing myself.
And there I waited, shivering slightly in the cool breezes of very early morning...
It seemed that whoever it was would never come out ... but at last the door swung open. As it was shut, the other nightwalker stood revealed in the near-darkness and starlight was reflected softly from long golden hair. It was Leona, and she moved with some sort of purpose as she walked slowly away.
More astonishing, Leona had clothes on ... the smart lilac knit two-piece suit she had worn in the Kernsville motel the night we picked up the famous men's magazine publisher. She was carrying a large clothes bag in one hand, a smaller overnight bag in the other. A strap handbag was slung from her right shoulder.
Leona walked slowly past the house toward the onetime coach house that served Martin family H.Q. as a garage. Moments later, I heard a starter whir and a motor throb into life, then the sound of a powerful little car as it edged down the driveway, turning into the road beyond, picked up speed and dwindled to silence in the night ...
CHAPTER TWELVE
Leona might have walked over the edge of the world as far as the rest of the Martin family was concerned.
During the following forty-eight hours, while we all were kept busy putting the show on the road for the Springfield opening, she simply was not there. Nor did anyone say a word about her absence. Her name was never mentioned, her chores taken up by the others. It was as if she had fallen in battle and the rest of us had simply closed ranks and marched on without her.
When I asked Donna about it the next day, as we were loading one of the glittering stainless steel trailers that held some of our portable equipment, she simply seemed not to hear me. So I held my peace, although I felt horribly responsible for her leaving ... since I had been all too aware of my usurping a stellar role in our production that had evidently been promised her. But there seemed to be nothing that I could do about it.
Not until the eve of our departure from Indianapolis, when I found myself again in Uncle Jake's fantastically erotic bedroom, did I ask again about my lovely blonde sister.
We were alone for the moment, since Jill and Duke, who were teaming up with us that night, were tearing off a prolonged multiple-piece in the bath of mirrors just beyond. I could hear the gentle rhythm of their grunts and moans of pleasure each time their pubic hairs met and the faint splashing sounds of the ripples they were making against the sides of the sunken tub.
I was seated atop Uncle Jake's thick prick with my legs straight out and my feet in his armpits, using his big round dome of a belly as a fulcrum for fucking. After a particularly sweet third orgasm involving much intricate in-termeshing of our fucking pieces, we both relaxed to let the flood of our well-mixed sexual fluids subside and, folding my arms over his protuberant navel and resting my chin upon them I asked him why all the secrecy about Leona.
He looked briefly surprised, then said, "You've become so much a part of the family that I guess we forget you don't know all the ground rules yet."
"Fill me in, Uncle Jake," I begged.
He lifted his loins to send a sweet after-spasm through my softly satiated body and said, "Jesus, honey, what do you think I'm trying to do?"
"Please..." I said as my ecstasy eased again.
"Oh, all right, Robin. It isn't the first time Leona has goofed off, worst luck. We need her. She's the only real blonde in the family and, along with you and Donna, the best piece of tail. But she's prone to these fits of jealousy, and that's one thing your father won't allow."
"You can't blame her," I said. "After all, I'm just a Jeannie come lately, and..."
"Stuff that!" Uncle Jake said rudely. "Your special qualifications made the change necessary. She pulled the same sort of thing two years ago, when Donna got to ride old Preepy the first time out. And Leona is a mean bitch when she gets her back up. She put itching powder in Donna's cunt cream right before a ritual, and seven neophytes thought she had given them some sort of venereal disease. Shit ... the palms I had to grease to keep us in business after that little fiasco. That dizzy blonde nearly put us out of business."
"How did Daddy handle it then?" I asked.
"He wanted to read her right but of the family, but I talked him out of that. Leona was heartsick when she realized how much trouble she'd caused, and, like I said, we need her. So your father took her back, albeit with reluctance and on condition she never do it again. Now? I don't know what he'll do when she wants back."
"Oh, I hope he does take her back. I love Leona. Outside of Daddy, she's the first member of our family I got to know. She's a ball."
"You might not think so if you'd heard some of the things she's been saying about you lately," said Uncle Jake. "And watch yourself, honey ... she can be tricky. But enough talk ... "
Uncle Jake's cock, which had been lowered to half mast during our brief colloquy, began to renew itself in the non-stagnant swamp of my well-filled hole. I gave my cunt a couple of twists to help it along, as well as to get my own fucking machinery going for the fourth round in this bout of bed-wrestling.
"That," said Uncle Jake, lifting his loins and thus driving his short but oh-so-thick prick into the revolving door of my cunt, "is more like it."
We were still swinging together when Mal and Donna, dripping wet, came trotting back from the tub together, with Donna leading and holding our burly Eskimo brother by his still half-erect cock. They sat alongside until we came to a driving finish that had us both sweating and grunting like pigs and happy as the night is long.
Then, somewhat unkindly I thought, Donna said with a flash of white teeth in her beautiful black face, "Put an apple in his mouth, Robin."
Considering that Uncle Jake was fat as a county fair prize hog, I thought his feelings might be hurt ... but evidently Donna knew him better than I did. Literally plucking me off his cock and tossing me into Mal's lap with a roar, Uncle Jake scrambled to his hands and knees and launched himself in a head-first dive at Donna, who squealed and dodged, but not in time. Within seconds, our uncle had her spread-eagled across the foot of the bed and was putting his full weight or top of her elegant ebon body, plunging his prick in and out of her hairless hole ... and Donna, still laughing, was giving him as good as she was getting.
Mal looked at them, then at me, and shook his round head, then said, "You've got to hand it to Uncle Jake ... he's got even more stamina than Daddy. That fat little cock of his is always loaded and ready to fire."
Glancing down at the near-perfect cylinder of Mal's prong, which was rising from his loins like an anti-air-craft cannon, I reached for it and said, "You're not doing so badly yourself in the stamina department."
He glanced down, then up at me again and said, "Well, what do you know! But you can thank the source for that ... namely yourself."
I was pleased, but I was also! empty, so I said, "Talk, talk, talk ... all the time talk and no action. Shall we dance?"
We shalled and we did and our final night in Indianapolis was as memorable as those that had preceded it.
Late the following morning, which was pleasantly cool and overcast, we left the family headquarters behind us and headed for the highway that would carry us west to Springfield, Illinois. Our caravan consisted of three vehicles ... the first a glittering Cadillac Coupe De Ville, the second a stainless steel land-yacht, the third a truck with a long trailer of the same material.
I rode in the front seat of the Cadillac, between Uncle Jake, who was driving, and Daddy. This was no special honor but a matter of common sense, since there was still a lot of briefing I had to absorb. Mal drove the land yacht, which could sleep and feed eight people comfortably with no strain, with Jill for company ... while Duke handled the truck and trailer with our heavy equipment and Donna and Terry shared the big cab with him. We had breakfasted hugely before leaving, and drove straight on through Danville to a pleasant suburb of the state capital, where a small chapel had been prepared to receive us. There, to my pleased surprise, Cherie was waiting, a smudge of blue paint on her pert little French Canadian nose.
Daddy hugged and kissed her and said, "I thought you'd be on your way back to Los Angeles by now, darling."
"L.A.'s done," said Cherie, rubbing herself happily against her father's rapidly rising frontispiece. "I decided to hang around not only to see you, Daddy dearest, but because I had one of my hunches. Tell me, are you a girl short for this meeting?"
Daddy nodded, said, "Leona."
Cherie said, "Oh, no! Not again?" Then, without waiting for a reply. "Come on, Daddy ... it's been a hell of a long time between fucks for us."
"We've got too much to do," said Daddy, pulling away from his lovely daughter yet looking down at his bulging fly with evident distress.
"Oh, go ahead, Les," Uncle Jake growled. "Neither one of you is going to be worth a tinker's dam around here until you get your rocks off together. Beat it!"
Father and daughter skipped off to the land yacht, hand in hand, like a couple of happy kids ... and who could blame them? Certainly not I ...
Meanwhile, there was plenty of work for the rest of us. There was a great deal of scenery to set up in the chapel, not least the altar with its leering, grotesque statue of old Preepy, who seemed to look right at home behind his incredible prick no matter where he found himself. There had been no opportunity for me to renew my acquaintance with this resurrected god of the ancient world following Leona's flight in the night. I regarded him with mixed feelings, since my copulation with Pan-Priapus was to climax the evening's festivities. I wondered if I would once again relieve that startlingly real vision of the days of nymphs and satyrs and felt a chill ripple up my spine.
I decided I was going to find out soon enough ...
* * *
So swiftly did everyone turn to and so expertly organized were the assignments that, under Uncle Jake's direction, everything was in its proper place within three quarters of an hour ... just in time for Daddy's and Cherie's return to the group from their happy time in the land yacht.
This time, my French-Canadian sister with the huge, mischievous milk-chocolate eyes greeted me warmly in remembrance of our time together in the Chicago office, when Leona and I were temporarily ensconced in publishing tycoon Philip Parker's Dreamboat enterprises as models and members of his harem. Cherie, along with Mal and Duke, had offered us a welcome haven when the Parker menage became a bit overwhelming with its plastic fucking machines posing as real live girls and women...
After hugging me, she said, "Hey, Robin ... how's it feel to be the coming Miss Dreamboat of the month?"
This was the first I'd heard of it and I said so. Cherie told me she had seen the proofs in Chicago and that I had come through photogenically, like money from home. Before I could digest this pleasant fact and ask a few pertinent questions, however, Terry and Duke grabbed me and hustled me into the land yacht, insisting that it had been a long, hard day and promised to be a long hard night and that, if they didn't get their nooky right now, they were going to be very, very bitter about it.
Skinning out of my clothes as fast as I could, I said, "Look, boys, what's stopping you ... apart from your big loud mouths?"
For that fresh-sister bit, they jumped me and I pretended to shrink from the long Hamitic prick that was promptly inserted to the full in my quivering cunt, and to the equally sizable Hawaiian cock that Duke pushed past my willing lips. We were just getting a swinging threesome going, when Donna came in and looked at the tangle of bodies and buttocks and legs and arms on our bunk and said, "Pardon me, kids, but is this a private fuck?"
My Kanaka brother left me and began helping Donna to strip ... not that she needed help then or ever. But I didn't really mind, since Terry's titanic tickler was titillating me to a T ... and, besides, while the bunks, large for a land yacht, were constructed to give ample room in which two can fuck to their hearts' delight, three was definitely a crowd in such confined quarters.
So Terry and I spread ourselves and had us a ball. Each of the males in the Martin family is eminently satisfactory as a stud, but there are little differences between them all, as I have already mentioned, which adds the unfailing aphrodisiac of unending variety to fucking inside the family. For instance, in contrast to Uncle Jake's thick, somewhat stubby cock, Terry's meat is built like a rapier ... And is, I believe, a smidgen longer even than Daddy's dildo of a dong. Put a pin on its tip, and it would puncture a normal-sized girl's heart from below . ...
Along with this length, it has that wonderful garden-hose limberness that enables it to follow the internal convulsions of a girl even in the wildest of fucking bees. It seems to be poured into her and, since it can penetrate even when unaroused due to its African heritage, once it is in a girl's happy twat, it is there to stay.
After a while, we changed partners, and I spasmed all over the bed in heavenly reaction to his indolent island easy sensuality ... and when at last we were done and it was time to think of dinner and the long evening ahead, we discovered that two other couples had joined us during our recreation period. Up front just behind the driver's area, Cherie's pretty pussy was jamming up and down on Uncle Jake's ever ready fucking piece, while Jill and Mal were hammering away at each other on the opposite side of the aisle.
There was a compact, fully equipped stainless steel kitchen in the rear of the land yacht and Donna and I got busy preparing a nourishing dinner for the family ... there was not time to cook a roast, so we hauled a huge top sirloin steak out of the freezer ... three inches thick, and backed it up with French fried potatoes, French fried onions, a mess of fresh asparagus we had picked up that afternoon at a roadside stand, mushrooms and corn on the cob.
After dining, we got into our working clothes ... the men in brief Grecian tunics that looked like the miniskirts of yesteryear, the girls in even more revealing clothes-except for me, who was in ... starring role that evening as consort of the god. They adorned me with so many leaves that I felt like a weirdo of the woods, but then Uncle Jake looked me over and stripped most of them off.
"You can't see the she for the forest," he grumbled. "Just a couple of leaves here and there to suggest the woodland nymph. Not a blanket of them."
So little, in fact, was left of my costume that, on Jill's counsel, I wore a polo coat on the short walk to the converted chapel, where I was to wait backstage for my cue. It can get cold in central Illinois of an evening, even at the end of a warm day...
I was dying to see the show, but there was no way ... so I sat alone most of the time in a crummy improvised dressing room just inside the back door, awaiting my cue, which was set for the very end of the first of the three nightly meetings that constituted one of our stays ... in the big cities, we ran for a week or even two if the returns warranted...
I had plenty of magazines to read, but it was dull business and I guess I must have dozed off. After a while, I had a dream ... not of fauns and satyrs but of Leona. I dreamt she was there in the room with me, calling my name ... and then I opened my eyes and there she was ... you guessed it ... calling my name.
She looked very unhappy and very upset, and when she saw I was awake. She pounded on me, crying, "Darling Robin, don't ride old Preepy tonight. Whatever you do, promise me you won't ride old Preepy..."
But I had just about had it with my beautiful blonde half-sister at that point. She had been treating me bitchily ever since we reached the Indianapolis H.Q. from Chicago, and the bit in the chapel the other night, plus her erratic behavior since, had fed me right up to the plimsol line.
Now, she was trying to make me louse up my all-important role in my first performance as a member of the Martin family. There's as much ham in me as there is in anybody else, and right then I wasn't going to give up my moment as old Preepy's consort in front of an audience for anybody-especially not for a sneaking, underhanded sister like Leona.
I heard Uncle Jake calling me from outside and got up to move past my golden-haired sister and go onstage to give my all, but Leona tried to stop me and that was it. Something popped inside me and I hauled off and clouted her with a backhand slap that tumbled her right over the back of a chair. She landed with her lovely head in a wastebasket and her cunt in the air, and I marched out of there and shut the door behind me.
There, Uncle Jake was waiting, and he hustled me into the wings and held me there, waiting for my cue to go on. I felt no stage fright ... not then. Something, perhaps my rout of Leona, had set my adrenals racing, and I wanted to charge right out there and give them the business. But it was not yet time ... Donna and Daddy were performing a beautiful dance of love in a blue spotlight that gave them both the appearance of supernatural beings as they undulated to the rhythm of a strange erotic recorded song of long ago, with Daddy's prick firmly embedded in Donna's foiling black cunt.
There was never any simulation in a Martin family performance ... when we fucked we fucked, when we sucked, we sucked, and so on ... The sole exception, the only bit of chicanery involved, was my pseudo-fucking by the divine Pan-Priapus ... and, believe me when I say that felt very much like the real thing with that dildo pulping in and out of my hole...
Daddy and Donna finished their dance, climaxing right on the musical cue in one of their almost incredible bits of fucking in time ... but I had little opportunity to admire their magnificent technique as they came off and as the lights and music changed and Jill and Cherie slipped onstage, nude, to worship before the statue of old Preepy that Duke, looking like a young god himself, unveiled, while Terry, his eyes shining with excitement, came to lead me onstage and give me a lift to my perch atop old Peepy's prodigious prick.
I could not see the small but select audience beyond the blinding glare of the amber spotlight that engulfed me as I settled my rump carefully atop its rounded perch ... but I could feel them and hear their gasp as they realized with incredulity that I was about to be penetrated by that incredible pecker. The music picked up a faster beat as I leaned forward to embrace the resurrected god of fun and sex and carefully pushed the buttons ... the front one once, the rear one once and then again.
The instant that dildo rose up into my carefully oiled hole as I wriggled around to make its entrance easier, I realized that something new had been added ... but before I could do a thing about it, I was in convulsions with my tunnel of love being rubbed and pushed and tickled by a variety of contusions and other devices that had not adorned old Peepy's prick when I rode it before.
Even though I had never before been fucked by a French tickler, I had heard enough about them to know perfectly well what was being done to me. Also, in the final flash of sanity before madness took over completely, I knew who had pulled this beauty. It was Leona, natch ... she must have fitted old Preepy with his new equipment just before I saw her sneaking out of the chapel in the darkness ... and, smitten with remorse, had tried to warn me in the dressing room, when I had been in no mood to listen to her ...
But that was my last sane thought for some time as the unbearable stimulation my cunt was getting caused me to go crazy. I have little memory of the rest of my performance, not really recovering consciousness until the curtain had fallen and old Preepy's prick halted and myself lifted down from my very hot seat.
* * *
When I finally regained my senses, I was lying on a cot in the little dressing room with everybody hovering over me and Leona sobbing and crying over and over again, "I tried to stop her ... honest, I did."
Daddy said, "Oh, shut up, Leona. How come you didn't mention why you wanted to stop her? I'll tend to you later."
I said, "She did try to stop me, but I didn't listen."
Daddy, who was right there with me, bless him, said, "She did it then ... as I suspected." Then, to me, "Are you all right, dearest daughter mine?"
"I'll live," I told him, wincing as I prodded my bottom gently. "But I've got an awfully sore hole."
Daddy said, "I can believe that." He looked up as Uncle Jake appeared in the doorway, looking like a contented cat, said, "How'd it go?"
"Just great ... A-okay," said Uncle Jake. "That finale really got them winging." Then, looking down at me and shaking his homely head. "Sweety, that was some performance. Maybe we ought to write it into the act."
Even Daddy couldn't hold me then, as I leapt from the cot and, sore hole and all, delivered my second backhand smash to the face that evening. Uncle Jake went down for the count ... or should it be for the cunt? He always went for the latter...
