Little Lorie. Little Annie Lorie. Little Lorie Lorie? Shit! Little cock-teaser was what she was!
Steve watched his daughter lean far forward over the passenger side of the car and kiss Rudy, her boyfriend. The micro-mini rode high, displaying the pink halves of her nylon-clad ass. Christ! he thought. Back in his day, the fifties-when fourteen-year-olds wore tent-like skirts, bobby socks, and blouses that actually hid their titties-a kiss like that meant a sure screw in the back seat.
The souped-up Ford rumbled. Lorie stepped back and waved as the car burned rubber and shot away from the curb. A sudden breeze, carrying with it a fine salt mist off the Atlantic, plastered the yellow skirt to her round hips. She wore no bra. The wind toyed with her sleeveless blouse, emphasizing her small, party-hat breasts.
On the porch Steve groaned. There was a familiar tightness in his chest. More and more lately, he was looking at Lorie with the eyes of a man on the make. The girl was her mother all over again; the same straight white-blonde hair, green eyes and feathery lashes, the same pert little ass, fleshy thighs, and provocative little round belly above the dip to her crotch. Now he wondered if the tight bristles between her lovely young legs were as blonde and soft as the velvety scruff Midge called her "egg harbor."
"Steve?" Midge's head appeared at the door. Her hair was frizzy from the heat of the stove. "Supper's ready."
He crossed his legs to hide his half-hard cock. He watched Lorie skip up the walk, step onto the porch, and lean back against the screen door. Her gaze dropped to his lap. She grinned. "In a minute," he told Midge. He didn't see the flash of anger in Midge's eyes before she disappeared into the house. He was too busy eyeing Lorie-his Lorie-who seemed to know what he was thinking and seemed not the least bit embarrassed by the bulge in his pants. He thought back, trying to remember when the tomboy with pigtails became the enticing girl now matching his stare for stare.
The sound of silverware and plates being slammed down on the table came from the house. Lorie parked her saucy behind close beside him on the wicker couch. She sat sidesaddle-one leg up, thighs wide. "You and Mom fighting again?" she asked.
Steve cleared his throat. It was as if the girl had read his earlier thoughts and now wanted to prove that the hair on her pussy was indeed platinum-blonde. He could see a clump of the downy stuff at the legband of her panties and there was a hint of dampness where the white nylon was stuck in the pouting lips of her little-girl cunt. His dick throbbed; his balls were being squeezed in a nutcracker, it seemed.
"Your mother's getting old," he managed in a shaky voice. "She's always bitching lately ... like an old cow afraid of drying up."
"Moo!" Lorie showed her teeth. Planting both feet on the couch, she locked her arms around her knees and cocked her cute head at him. She studied him for a moment, then said, "Isn't she giving you any?"
"That's no way to talk about your mother," snapped Steve. "Especially to me!"
"Oh, Daddy." Lori scowled. "This is 1973 and everyone talks about sex. It's not like when you and Mummy were young and had to sneak off and do it in the back seat of the car. Now it's fun."
Again Steve feasted his hungry gaze on his daughter's damp crotch. With her legs up, he could see the lush mound of her heart-shaped pussy and the alluring crack where the nylon was sunk deep in the crack of her ass. What would she do if, without warning, without a word, he touched the smooth underside of her thigh, he wondered. Would she be frightened? Shocked? Or would she smile the way she did while prancing around the house in shorty pajamas-pajamas she knew goddam well he could see through!
With difficulty, he forced the thoughts from his mind. The banging from within the house was louder. Reluctantly he said, "We'd better go in for supper before your mother breaks every dish in the place."
Lori giggled. She leaned suddenly toward him-like a sparrow, a swift, delightfully excited bird-and gave him a pecking kiss on the lips. "I love you, Daddy," she whispered before leaping from the couch and darting into the living room.
He retreated to the porch again while Lorie and Midge did the dishes. It was a balmy evening. Janice, the sixteen-year-old across the way, had come out to water the mournful flowerbed in front of the Mitchell bungalow. He liked Janice; he liked the skintight jeans she wore, the cuffs cut ragged at midthigh. He liked too the way the skimpy halter hugged her melon breasts. He stood at the screen door and watched her, looking from her to the Anderson girl, who lay asleep on the hammock next door, and thought how good life was.
Down the street, Dave Snider's willowy wife was hosing the grit from the family car. The sun was beginning to set, bathing the coast in soft purples, golds, and reds. The night breeze, heavy with the smell of fish from the boats docking a walking distance away, was subduing the heat with the gentleness of a mother's touch. This was the time he liked best-when the sky became crowded with stars, and a casual atmosphere that didn't exist in the city fell over the shore area. And cunt! Cunt all over the place!
"Darn it, anyway!" Janice was having trouble with the sun-baked hose. She turned two white round patches toward him, bent to tap the nozzle on a stone.
And asses! Steve mused. Cunt and ass everywhere. Each year since shortly after Lorie was born he and Midge had spent their summers here. But this year was different ... special. He was no longer a twenty-year-man in Uncle Sam's Army. There was a comfortable pension to see to the family needs, an executive's job nine months a year, and three solid months of vacation to make up for the extra-marital fucking he'd been missing while a goody-good in a uniform with captain's stripes.
Opening the screen door, he stepped from the porch and walked leisurely across the sand and gravel street. His shoes made small crunching noises. Janice looked back over her shoulder, grinned. "Hi," she sang. "I don't suppose you know anything about hoses?"
"I can try." Steve took the hose from her hand. Her cool slender fingers brushed his. He remembered the tight cunt-Lorie's pussy-he'd seen half an hour before, and felt his cock stirring. Unscrewing the nozzle, he blew into the hose-pretending to know what he was doing, while eyeing the creamy upper halves of the girl's huge breasts.
Janice was the neighborhood rip-off, he knew. The summer before, she and Dave Snider were caught together in the nude-apparently getting ready to screw-in the back seat of Dave's car. He'd like to get Janice in the back of a car, Steve thought. Or in a bed, on the beach, anywhere. "Nothing wrong with the nozzle," he said, his dick beginning to leap about in his pants leg. "Did you check to see if the water's turned on at the main?"
Janice frowned. "What the heck is a 'main'?"
Steve laughed. He eyed the cinder block foundation of the Mitchell summer home. "Under there somewhere," he said, pointing. "There should be a door around back and maybe four feet of crawling space."
"I knew I shouldn't have agreed when Daddy asked me to water his dumb flowers." Janice sighed. Her breasts almost popped free of the halter. "Oh, well," she added. "Let's go find the dumb thing."
Steve followed her swishing hips to the rear of the bungalow. Each step pulled the dungarees tighter across her plump buttocks, emphasizing the lush crack. Her full thighs rubbed together, making the denim hiss. By the time they reached the wooden door in the foundation, his prick was so hard he thought sure it was going to burst free and attack her without help from him.
They had to crouch on hands and knees. He let Janice go first, but followed close behind. She chatted incessantly, but his face was mere inches from the deep split up her backside, and he was too horny, too ready to screw, to hear what the girl said. He held back. Until Janice banged her knee on a rock, fell forward onto her belly, and yelped, "Ouch! Oh, cock-sucker!"
Steve came down on her, as if by accident. He centered the rigid pole in his pants between her delectable thighs, pressed. The blood pounded at his temples. He said something, something inane, all the time pressing, sawing his dick in and out of the hot pocket at the crotch of the jeans.
Janice squirmed. "Um. I ... I thought we came in here to find the main?"
"I found it," choked Steve, undoing the clasp at her back. The bikini-like top fell away. He cupped her soft breasts. With thumb and forefinger, he worked her nipples while grinding against the jiggling halves of her ass.
"C'mon," whispered Janice unconvincingly.
"I intend to," breathed Steve into her ear. "Just as soon as I get your pants off."
Kneading one tit, he moved his free hand down over her belly to the waistband of the tight jeans. She continued to protest and squirm until he undid the zipper, stole beneath the denim and began to rub her pubic mound. Her hips bucked. Her buttocks tightened on the shaft of his sawing cock.
"Should I stop?" Steve found the legband of the panties and drove two fingers high in her juicy slit.
"Oh. Ohahhh." Janice rolled beneath him and answered by mashing her soft open lips to his. Her hand found his fly. Hastily she worked the zipper, dove inside, and wrapped small anxious fingers around his rigid meat.
It was Steve's turn to gasp and strain. He felt the night air on the knob of his cock as she freed it and reached back inside the pants to fondle his balls. Sucking her mouth, his dick threatening to explode before it was sheathed, he yanked the jeans and panties off her hips. He broke her kiss, kneeled to undo his belt. "Jesus!" he groaned, staring down at the white flesh--legs wide at either side of his-the clump of black cunthair and pink gash, open and ready to receive his enraged member.
"It ... it's so big," cooed Janice, eyes wide as she sat up and closed both tiny hands at the hairy roots of his sex. She leaned forward, heavy tits swaying away from her body. Still cooing, she touched her moist lips to the glans.
"Ahhhhhh!" Steve's hips shot forward.
"Can I suck it, Steve?"
"Motherfucker! You-ummmmmm! You can do anything you want with it. Only do it quick."
Without hesitation, Janice bent lower and drew the fat tip into her mouth. Her fiery tongue swirled ... wetting ... teasing him. She let her prize escape, flattened her tongue at the base and licked slowly upward.
"Suck it, honey." Roughly Steve took hold of the girl's head, not caring if he hurt her, and forced the knob of his cock deep inside her small hot mouth. She gagged. He locked his fingers in her hair, pressed forward-pumping it into her face until her lips were flush with his cockhair.
Janice began to make loud sucking noises. With his cubes in the palm of her hand, she probed his asshole with one tiny finger.
"What the fuck?" Steve's buttocks tightened. His dick leaped as the fiery little dart slid home, torturing his sphincters. But there was a more profound torture, a hungry demon, building in his sacs. The tongue swirled, the mouth moved up and down, the girl whined. And deep in the pit of his belly the semen began to rise, began to make the climb to the aperture at the head of his tool.
Janice must have sensed that he was close to orgasm, Her head, moved faster-up-down, up-down, red hair dancing. She guided one of his hands to her pussy, moved her hips sensuously. "Finger me," she moaned. "Hurry!"
Steve obliged. Forcing all four fingers up her gaped open slit, he toyed with her clit and worked the slippery inner walls of her vagina. She was big down there. Big and hot and exuding the fishy smell of a woman in heat. But there was a sweetness to the smell; the special fragrance of a young eager girl.
Suddenly, Janice drove her stinkfinger high in his asshole, and the cum, spurt after thick spurt, flew from the glans of his pistoning rod.
Moaning, the girl gulped. She pulled back, until only the swollen tip was in her mouth. She kneaded his balls, fucked her finger in and out of his rectum, coaxing more gism. She sucked until a last forlorn drop trickled off, then allowed his meat to pop noisily from her face.
Panting, cock only slightly less hard, Steve fell back on the sandy ground and watched her lick the last pearly drops from the corner of her mouth. He reached for her, took her hand, and pulled her down across his body. He closed his eyes, wanting to rest a moment before he climbed between her full white thighs. But Lori was there, inside his head in her pink see-through pajamas. Her lips moved slowly toward his lap. Her fingers toyed with his belt buckle. She was driving him crazy, and she knew it, he was certain. She was fourteen, old enough to know what she was doing. And what she was doing was making him want her more and more.
"I thought soldiers were supposed to be tough?" Janice flicked her tongue across his nipples. Again her hand closed on his cock. She threw one leg over his, rubbing her wet pussy up and down his muscular thigh.
"I'm an ex-soldier," Steve corrected. "Uncle Sam divorced me. But I can still out maneuver, out shoot and out fuck the best of them." Cupping the girl's, wide soft ass, he arranged her atop and astraddle his body. He reached for his cock. Setting the mighty tip at the lips of her cunt, he drove upward.
"Steeeeeeeve!" cried Janice as the entire length bored into her sopping wet hole.
Loris was slouched on the sofa watching TV when he came in. She waved at him and shifted to make room. She was wearing the flimsy pajamas he'd envisioned while lying with Janice beneath the Mitchell bungalow, and he could see her pert nipples in the light from the lamp on the end table. Flopping beside her, he stored fastidiously at the variety show on the tube.
The show was the usual collection of trained dogs, an unfunny comedian, and a singer who sounded more like a gargler for a mouthwash commercial. There were puppets for the kids, too much applause, and an audience participation thing that left the volunteers looking like boobs. After half an hour, his eyes burned and he was ready to join Midge in bed. He glanced sidelong at Lorie. She too was nodding. She was curled at the corner of the sofa, bathed in soft light. The tightness returned to his chest.
It was all wrong, he told himself. This was his daughter, his Lori, the sweet baby he used to bounce on his knee. But the smell of Janice clung to his hand and he couldn't stop thinking about the thatch of blonde hair he'd seen when Lori raised her legs-for him? Had she done it because she knew he wanted her to?-on the porch. His breathing grew labored. He waited.
Finally his daughter's small chin dropped to her breast. He listened to her sigh, watched her breasts set a steady rhythm as she sank into sleep. His gaze traveled longingly up her thigh, to where the legband of the pajamas dug into her flesh. And above, to the pointed tits that reminded him so of the hats kids wore at birthday parties. Although he had taken Janice again and again, fucking until he thought sure his nuts would shrivel and drop off, the sight of Lori-smooth, blemishless skin glowing through the night garment--sent the hot blood gushing into his lower abdomen. How many men fucked their daughters, he wondered. But then-how many fathers had daughters like Lori ... all pink and white curves and softness, and shaking her tight little ass in Daddy's face.
His heart raced. He took a deep breath. Hand suspended above the elastic legband of the shorty pajamas, dick bloated inside his pants, he waited another moment to be sure she was asleep. His nymphet was adorable. She lay with her head on the arm of the sofa, the top of the nightie pulled taut across one little breast. Her succulent nipple seemed to cry, "Kiss me, Daddy. Squeeze me. Put me in your mouth."
With trembling fingers, he worked the leg-band back until the plump underside of one buttock was free. He touched her, groaned. She was softer than cotton, her cheeks dimpled. He worked the garment farther back ... until his fingers grazed the hot inward slant, the downward slope, the whiter than white area where her buttocks dipped together and cut a deep silky runway to an asshole he knew would be tighter than any rear entry he'd ever humped his long prick into.
His fingertips met her soft down. "Lori!" he hissed, wanting her. Wanting her more than anything in the world. He traced the hair that began low in the crack of her ass, thickened as it continued down and under, and opened into a blonde V that surrounded her wet cuntlips.
"Sweet Lori. Sweet baby, don't wake up." He couldn't wait any longer; he no longer cared that she was his daughter, fourteen years old, and that what he was about to do was the cardinal sin. Incest! But he didn't care. Already he had his fly open, hard cock in hand. And he didn't care about anything except driving those ten inches of manmeat into her belly.
Her cunt seemed to breathe on his fingers. It opened and closed, trapping him. He felt her clit rise up tall. Again she sighed, slipping farther down on the cushions, as if purposely drawing his finger into her cunthole. She was so small and lovely, so willing it seemed in sleep.
Little Lorie Lorie, Steve thought, the kid with the platinum snatch. She was going to get his stiff dick in her-daughter or not!
With maddening slowness, careful not to wake her and savoring every inch of her backside, he worked the pajama bottoms off her hips. There were no panties to hamper his progress; Lorie never wore more than the flimsy night garment to bed. He'd watched her night after night cross in front of the lighted TV, as if daring him. She had to be aware of what she was doing, he thought. Did she think there was water instead of blood in his veins? And the way she'd kissed Rudy! No innocent girl kissed like that! He was willing to bet a month's pay the boy had been sucking her tongue while he watched from the porch.
As the night garment slipped farther and farther down, revealing more and more of the girl's secret blonde parts, Steve eased himself onto the cushions close behind her. The sensitive head of his dick grazed a hot mound of ass flesh. Electric fire shot through his loins. With hands that refused to stop shaking, he maneuvered the pajamas all the way off her round backside. He left them bunched at the top of her slim thighs -slim but fleshy in that unique way little girls have of becoming a woman. His head swam. His breathing grew ragged. The room seemed to spin as he set the bloated knob of his cock at the mouth of her little-girl pussy.
"Steve? Are you coming to bed tonight, or do I have to sleep alone again?"
Jesus H. Christ! he objected mentally. Of all the goddam nights for Midge to want screwing, she had to pick this one!
He leaped fumbling with his fly. from the sofa. But it was already too late. Lori was blinking at him with disbelieving eyes. Her small hand groped for the pajama bottoms, mouth opening wider and wider as realization dawned.
"I ... I'm sorry, honey," he croaked, searching for something adequate to say. But there was nothing to say, the stiff meat protruding from his pants said it all.
Demurely, Lori placed one hand over her little blonde pussy. She studied him a moment. Then her eyelashes began to flutter. She grinned, shook her small head. "Shame on you, Daddy," she said, barely above a whisper. "You're always lecturing me and you're really nothing but a dirty old man."
CHAPTER TWO
It was Sunday and Midge and Lori had left early to spend the day with Midge's folks. As he did every week, Steve began to putter outside the bungalow, replacing a loose shingle here, weeding a clump of crabgrass from the sandy soil there. By midmorning the sun was a fiery orange ball in the cloudless blue sky and was beating like hot hammer blows on his sweaty back.
Stu and Lyn Anderson appeared in the gravel drive next door. Lyn was a stacked little brunette, with tits that pointed skyward and hips that were too big for the tight skirts she wore. Steve had often wondered what she'd be like in bed.
"Hey, Steve-o," called Stu. "How about weeding my place while you're at it?"
"Sure thing." Steve's gaze traveled slowly up Lyn's short trim legs. He had other crabgrass in mind.
"There's brew in the frig," continued Stu. "Put Betty to work, too. That goddam kid sits around like she owns the place."
A small dark head shot out of the window overlooking the drive. "Hey, Pop?"
"Yeah?"
"Drop dead, will ya?" Betty wagged a pink tongue at Stu. Her huge brown eyes flashed. She was younger than Lorie by more than a year, Steve knew. Yet her tits had already begun to thrust hard little nipples out at the world, and when she wore shorts or slacks, the soft rise of her sex formed a provocative V.
Steve watched his neighbor throw up his hands in exasperation. "Kids!" the man bellowed. "Can't do a goddam thing with 'em. Help yourself to the beer, Steve. You know where the kitchen's at."
The Andersons climbed into the new station wagon backed into the drive. The motor purred. "If that brat gives you any lip," called Stu as the car rolled onto the street, "put a foot in her ass."
Steve glanced to the window, where Betty stood with chin propped on folded arms. She eyed him defiantly. He grinned She scowled. "Wanna give me a hand?" he asked.
"Ha!"
"What's that mean?"
"Drop dead!"
What she needed was more than a foot in her ass, thought Steve. He could imagine himself coming up behind her, lifting the housecoat she wore, and teaching her some manners by driving a stiff dick up her brown. He studied her mouth. He'd never been too keen on blowjobs ... until Janice showed him what a good cocksucker could do. Now he stared speculatively at the Anderson girl's bowed pink lips, and could almost feel her sharp teeth. Damn! he admonished himself. What in hell was wrong with him, anyway? First Lori, then Janice last night and Lori again, and now his neighbor's twelve-year-old. He was indeed becoming a dirty old man.
"Behave!" he told Betty. "Or I may take your father's advice, and fix it so you won't be sitting down for a week." Again he imagined himself coming up behind her.
"You're not big enough," retorted Betty.
Steve winced when she slammed the screen shut, walked across the room, and fell back onto what he supposed was the bed. One small round knee rose above the level of the window sill. He wiped sweat from his brow. The girl was as bad as Lori with her cock-teasing.
He worked on the Anderson drive for half an hour, until the sweat stung his eyes and the wet shorts dug into his crotch. The cold beer Stu Anderson had offered seemed like a good idea. He strode to the rear entrance and, remembering how Betty had looked asleep on the hammock the afternoon before, entered the bungalow.
The air conditioner in the living room hummed cool air into the kitchen. A long hall stretched from one end of the house to the other, the bedrooms branching off on either side. He eyed the girl's room, She was in there, perhaps naked beneath the shorty housecoat, he thought. Her young body would be soft, even softer than Lori's, cunt tight! His dick stirred. Lately he seemed to think about nothing but fucking.
He opened a beer, guzzled half the can, moved back to the hall, and stood staring at the open door to Betty's room. His nuts grew tight, aching to unload. He finished the beer, got another-unable to forget the girl's tiny bowed lips. He drank, closed his eyes and rubbed the front of his pants, remembering Janice. Betty Anderson would be a better blowjob, he reflected, she had the mouth for it. And she might even be cherry, he mused. She was young enough and her snotty ways were the ways of a girl who hadn't yet felt a man between her thighs.
He groaned, cock growing stiff as he rubbed. He heard music-soft at first, then louder and louder until the bungalow seemed to vibrate with the sound. "Turn it down," he hollered, angry because she had disturbed his reverie.
Betty came out of her room into the hall. "If you don't like it," she said, pausing to moisten her lips with a delicate pink dart, "you know what you can do."
"Fresh little bitch." Steve gulped the last of the beer. "Your old man was right. What you need is a cock ... afoot in your smart ass."
The girl's tongue reappeared, wagged at him. She leaned back against the doorjamb, crossing her legs at the ankle. The housecoat parted. Her legs were short, slim but tapering up into plump thighs. She was tiny all over-like Dresden china, Steve thought. He could see the shadow beneath the hem of the lounge garment; he could almost see her tight-it had to be tight -little-girl pussy.
For a moment, the girl matched him stare for stare. Then she rolled her eyes, as if bored, turned, and disappeared into the bedroom once more. Steve looked at the beer can in his hand. It was bent in the middle, crushed with the tension of thoughts of taking Betty. As if in a trance, he moved to the door and gaped at the sight on the mattress. Betty wore nothing beneath the housecoat. She raised her legs again, foot sawing up and down over one knee, exposing her crotch and round white ass. Steve gulped. He could see her asshole and the almost hairless lips of her hot cunt winking at him.
She didn't see him at first. But she yelled when he strode to the bed and grabbed her. "What you need is what I have in my pants," he growled, beyond reason, beyond caring what happened after his prick was sheathed.
"NOOO!" Betty fought-all flailing arms and thrashing legs. She twisted away from the hand groping between her thighs. She squealed. "I'll TELL!" she threatened, trying to knee him, clawing the air near his face with her sharp fingernails.
Steve's fingers found and dug hard into her tight cunthole. The girl gasped. Her eyes opened wide, almost as wide as her mouth, and her hips bucked high off the bed. "That's better," Steve panted, working her clit. "Lay still. Put your hand inside my pants and take out my cock."
"No ... I never ... I ... I ... "
Steve kissed her. Rubbing her pussy with the palm of his hand, wiggling his stinkfinger, he forced his tongue into her mouth and sucked her sweet breath. She screamed against his lips. But her ass began to bounce like a beached flounder. He guided her hand to the bulge in his pants. He had to open the fly and thrust her hand inside before the girl's delicate fingers began to oblige. They closed tentatively about his swollen dickhead. She whined. He drove his tongue in and out of her mouth, fucked his finger faster and faster into her vulva, and allowed her a moment to get used to the awesome size of his tool.
Humping his rod hard into the palm of her tiny cool hand, he broke the kiss and whispered, "Isn't that what you want? A dick? Right up-" he wedged another finger into her pink slit-"here!"
"Eeeeeeeeeeeee!" The hand on his meat tightened. Betty's exquisite young body arched up. The belt at the waist of the housecoat carne undone, revealing tits that were almost all nipple.
Steve became drunk with the sight of her. There was nothing in the world to compare with the smooth limbs and budding splendor of a woman-child. He'd seen women all over the planet-old ones, young ones, middle-aged. It was the same everywhere, the daughters of the women he'd screwed, the kid sisters and nieces, were the ones who could get his dick hard when nothing else on his body wanted to go.
He abandoned her cunt and pushed her hand away long enough to strip the pants and shorts from his legs, then climbed onto the bed-too anxious to get his rod in her, to feel the hot walls of her sex close, to prolong it by wasting time with the rest of his clothes. "Say you want it," he told her, mouthing a bright pink nipple while his hand massaged her belly and pubic mound.
"I ... I ... I ... "
"Say it!"
"Oh. Owahhh." She began to move her head from side to side on the pillow. "I ... I've never done it," she breathed. Her tiny hand returned to his shaft, closed. "It ... it's too big. I ... I'm too little down there."
A fucking virgin! thought Steve. When was the last time he'd stuck his dick in a virgin? It was too long ago to remember, and he was too busy exploring her lush body-sucking her tits, hand rubbing, fingers inching back up her hole-to care. He coaxed her thighs wide. Nibbling his way up her slim neck, over her chin to her lips, he kissed her again and positioned himself over the target.
Setting the knob of his cock at her cunthole, he paused to savor the heat exuding from her upper vagina. She was built so close he had to force the glans in. He humped. Betty tore her lips from his, gasping. He humped again,.
"OHHHHHHHH! It ... it'll never go!" she cried, backing off, trying to grind her ass into the mattress.
Reluctantly, Steve pulled out, moved down on the bed, and glued his lips to her cunthole. The smell of her filled his nostrils. He sucked, batting his tongue against her hard little pink soldier. He cupped her buttocks. One finger slipped up her cute asshole.
"Oh, Steve. Oh! OH! OHHH!" Betty's knees shot up. She began to grind, mashing her sharp little pussy hairs into his face. "Owahh!"
Moving his mouth down deeper into the valley between her quivering thighs, Steve licked her sphincters. The knees came together at either side of his head. He licked again, sending her hips high. He returned to her vulva, blew hard into her slit, and nibbled her clit. He waited until he was sure she was too hot to object to anything, then rearranged his body, legs astraddle her head. He had almost forgotten the bowed mouth. Now he pointed his cock at her lips, balls dangling. "Suck it!" he told her. "Put it in your sweet mouth."
Betty whimpered, hesitating. Then her tiny hands closed at the hairy roots of the monster throbbing above her. Her tongue flicked out, caressed the tip. "It's purple," she said in wonder. "I never knew they were purple like that."
"Jesus!" Steve's ass bucked back as the wet pink dart shot down the glans of his tool. He buried his face between her thighs once more. He matched her flick for flick ... inching his knees wide ... lowering, easing his meat closer to the bowed pocket in the girl's lovely flushed face.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" Betty thrashed about wildly, the juice oozing hot and thick from her gash.
She was coming, Steve knew; her first orgasm. He humped downward, driving half the length of his joystick into her face. She gurgled. He drove, planting the last inches, knowing she was too stunned with the wonder of what was happening inside her sex to object.
Then he was coming too, almost before his cockhair reached its destination. Nuts flush with her pert nose, the gism leaped from his cock. He groaned into her pussy ... lapping ... lapping. He fingered her asshole-so tight he marveled that she could shit-and fucked his joint rapidly in and out of her face, depositing gobs of cum with each lunge.
Where a moment before the girl had seemed reluctant to suck him, she now gulped the sticky stuff pouring off in her mouth. She made greedy little love noises each time he pulled back, as if afraid he'd pop free and she'd lose some of his cream. As if she'd been sucking hardens instead of baby bottles and ice cream cones all her young life.
Finally Steve yanked his joint from her wet mouth, sat on the edge of the bed, and observed his new conquest. Her lips were red and swollen with the shape of him. And her cunt-the pink slitted mound that resembled a man with a midnight shadow-was puffy and pulsed, aching for more, he knew.
Betty fidgeted under his gaze. She had not yet become accustomed to being looked at. She closed her legs, hiding her sex, said, "I didn't think I'd ever let anyone do that-in my mouth, I mean. Mommy does it to Daddy though. I saw them."
Steve envisioned Lyn sucking a joint into her face. "They let you watch?" he asked.
"Of course not. How come grown-ups are so dumb?" Betty propped herself on her elbows, emphasizing the cute mounds on her chest. "Their bedroom's right next door," she explained. "Boy! You should hear them! They make all kinds of noise once they get going. They leave the door open because of the air conditioner, and I sneak over and watch them from the hall."
Steve's dick had lost some of its fullness, but the picture of Stu and Lyn fucking while Betty watched from the hall brought him up hard again. Did Lori ever watch him and Midge? he wondered. Or did the two girls-Lori and Betty -who were close friends and often spent weekends at each other's home, ever get together to compare notes about their parents? He touched the girl's thigh, remembering his own childhood, when he and his sister Elaine had listened to their parents make love before retreating to the cellar to play with each other. He cupped the girl's pussy, made her squirm. Elaine! He hadn't seen her since the family breakup. She was only a little thing then-not as old as Betty. Too little to screw. Too little to do more than giggle while she yanked on his dong, and his unsophisticated fingers explored her front and rear holes. Where was she now, he wondered, lying down beside the lovely young girl once more. Who was she fucking?
"Ummmmmmmmmm!" Betty sighed as his thumb and forefinger recaptured her clit.
Steve watched her young face go slack, saw her eyes glaze with longing. He kissed her breasts, her belly. He ran his finger up and down the tight crack of her ass. She was lots like Elaine, lots like Lori, lots like all the young girls he'd had all over the world. And yet different. Special because every minx had her own heady smell, her own whining love noises and immature thoughts and actions.
"Oh! N-n-not in there," she objected when, with thumb and two fingers, he spread the halves of her ass to get at her anus.
"Where then?" Steve asked, gaping her thighs once more, climbing hurriedly between.
"You know." She raised her hips, telling him with her body.
He laughed, thinking how easy it was to seduce the young ones. Once you found the switch, turned their sex motor on, there was no stopping them. They pleaded and cried and fucked a guy out of his mind. He set his cock at her cunthole.
"There," Betty whispered, humping upward again. "It's gonna hurt like before, I know. But I ... I ... "
Steve planted the glans before she could finish the sentence. "You wanna get fucked!" he said.
"I ... owwwwwwww!" The girl wrapped her slender arms around his shoulders, held tight. "I'm almost thirteen and still cherry, and all ... owwwwWWWWW! All the other girls make fun of me, Steve. E-even Lorie. She won't hardly talk to me anymore."
He stopped with the knob of his cock at the gateway to her upper channel. "Lorie? My Lorie?"
Betty chewed her lip and nodded. "She says, ah! OW! Lorie says fucking is about all she ever wants to do, and that I'm just a kid because I haven't been done yet." She stared up at him with mouth open and eyes wide. Her tiny breasts heaved. Her ass moved in slow circles.
Fucking cock-teaser Lori, thought Steve, raising himself on outstretched arms, preparing to drive. He'd known it all along: Lori was screwing for everyone but him, and doing her damndest to taunt him into her stable. But before it was merely supposition, where now it was fact. He remembered the look on her face when she caught him the night before-the coy grin. He'd take her the next time, he decided, the very next time Midge left them alone.
But for now Betty's mewing sounds demanded attention. He let his gaze wander leisurely over the young body beneath him, to the gap where his long rod protruded from her tight cunthole. "Push up with your ass," he directed, applying pressure with his hips. "Help me get it in."
"Like this?" Betty raised her knees, planted her feet on the bed and lifted.
"Just like that, baby. Keep pushing." Ears ringing, cock throbbing with the tightness of her, he watched the shaft begin its climb up her belly. She was good, hot and close and slippery feathers inside. But he had embedded only three inches when the barrier stopped him.
"It hurts," whimpered Betty, small body tense, fingernails digging into his shoulders. Again she turned wide pleading eyes up at him. "Is ... is it supposed to hurt so bad? I mean ... owww! It ... it really does."
"Only for a little while," he soothed. "Hold tight, honey. Put your legs around my waist and keep pushing up." He waited for her to comply, then lowered himself. He gripped the soft cheeks of her ass, a mound in each hand, pulled back until his rod almost sprang free, then drove hard at the elastic-like barrier.
"D-d-dooooon't!"
Steve kissed her to shut her up. The girl tried again to back off, to drop her legs from his waist. But he held tight to the round halves of her bottom, bludgeoning the membrane hidden high in her vagina. He knew he was hurting her. But he knew too that in a moment, when her maidenhead gave, she'd be the thrashing anxious sex partner who'd sucked him off like a pro minutes before.
The thought made him wild. He pulled back, taking a firmer grip on her ass, and lunged with all the strength in his hips. He groaned into her mouth, breaking through, driving the glans of his prick high in her belly. He kissed from her mouth to her ear. "Now you're a woman," he told her.
"Not yet."
"Huh?" Again he raised his body on outstretched arms, looked into her huge brown eyes.
"Not until you shoot in me there," she explained. "All ... all the girls say that's the best part-when your thing spits like before."
Steve wanted to bite her. She was perfect, exquisitely naive. He looked down at the union. He pulled back, watching his stiffness come out slick with her blood and cuntjuice. She was nonetheless tight, and even hotter now that he had penetrated the sheath no other cock had known. But he wished it was Lori beneath him; he wished it was his daughter's white-blonde pussy instead of black bristles tickling the roots of his rod, and wished he'd been the first to plant a load of cum in her hot daughter-twat.
"G-go in and out," said the girl in a small appealing voice. She reached down to take hold of his meat, to direct him. "Like Pop does to Mom. Up and down."
He thrust, transfixed by the look of ecstasy on her pretty young face. She cooed, opening and closing her cuntlips, wiggling her ass, the walls of her sex caressing his swollen joint. The cheeks of her plump little behind grew taut when he stoked out and jiggled in the palms of his hands when he humped it to her again. Her sloppy wet bloody gash made faint sloshing noises. Her thighs trembled. Steve couldn't remember when he'd experienced a better screw.
They fucked leisurely for a while-he content to let his cock dip in and out without coming, she learning, moving her hips first round and round, then up and down, then combining the two to create a sensuous rhythm.
But still, in his mind, it was Lori Steve was fucking; his own little girl! It was Lorie who had sucked him off, and Lorie whose whipped cream thighs were moving restlessly beneath him. And it was Lori, not Betty, whose all-nipple tits tasted of salt, and Lori whose slippery buttocks began to churn faster as he forced his way deeper and deeper into the almost hairless, tight and hot little hole, between the trim legs of Stu Andersen's twelve-year-old daughter.
Suddenly Betty went rigid. Her mouth opened, as if she were going to yell, but nothing came out. Her small strong legs shot high on his waist. Her nails dug into his back. A mewing sound-part moan, part sigh-came from deep in her throat, and the pussy swabbing his dipstick became as tight as a vise.
"You're coming," Steve told her, wanting to laugh, but so close to the brink himself that he could barely suck air into his tortured lungs.
"It oh! It feels-owwwwww! S-S-S-SO GOOD!" the girl managed, the lower half of her body grinding like an erratic electric mixer. "Don't s-stop. Don't ... eeeeeeee! D-don't ever s-stoooooooooop!"
Steve had no intention of stopping. He told her so. He gasped the words into her open mouth, twisted a finger up her brown, and expanded and contracted the knob of the thing soaking at the top of her juicy love hole.
Lori! he thought, ramming his tongue into the girl's sweet warm mouth. He closed his eyes-fucking, fucking, driving his big daddy-dick into another man's daughter. Lori was there in his head, on the sofa with the shorty pajamas bunched at the top of her smooth thighs, the halves of her ass beckoning. Only this time Midge didn't call, and Lori didn't awake, and the tightness milking the semen up from his sacs, the wet hole filled with his ten inches of cock, was the winking brown velvet pocket low between the beautiful cheeks of her ass.
"Lori!" he spit, his dick spitting too. He dug his fingers cruelly into Betty's soft bottom. "Oh God, Lori!"
CHAPTER THREE
It was late afternoon when Steve finally stepped from the Anderson place, crossed the drive, and slowly climbed the stairs to the back door of his bungalow. Midge and Lorie hadn't yet returned. He strode to the girl's room, eyed the crumpled shorty pajamas at the foot of the bed. His gaze scanned the pop art posters hung from the walls, settled on UNCLE SAM WANTS YOU! He couldn't blame Uncle Sam. She was some kid, his Lorie; a man, even old Uncle Sam, would have to be dead not to want her.
Without design, he moved to the bureau and began to rummage through the top drawer. Underwear! Perfumed strips of silk that were too scanty, and bras she never wore. Lorie. His little Lorie.
In one corner of the drawer, hidden beneath the skimpy undergarments, lay a stack of dog-eared muscle-building magazines. Steve frowned. Choosing one, he leafed through and stopped at the page with the corner turned down. He blinked. Someone had drawn a huge cock on a Mr. America contestant.
Holy Christ! he thought, tracing the lipstick smear at the tip of the penciled member. Had Lorie done that? Was she, like Janice across-the street, a confirmed blowjob?
His insatiable prick began to stiffen. He closed the magazine, thrust it back into hiding. There were so many others, he told himself; there were girls like Betty and Janice all over the area, girls who came to the shore from the stifling city each year, leaving morals behind. But-God help him-he couldn't stop wanting Lori.
He had barely closed the drawer when the front screen door slammed. "Anybody home?" called a throaty female voice.
Steve didn't answer, not wanting whoever it was to see him come out of Lori's bedroom with a harden. The voice was familiar ... one of the neighborhood women Midge played bridge with each Thursday, but he couldn't remember which one. He waited until his rod slackened; becoming a limp hose that could pass for merely an extra-large weapon instead of excitement. Then he entered the living room.
Vivian, Dave Snider's attractive ex-model wife, stepped from the kitchen with a quart of milk in her hand. She saw him and stopped, said oh!
"Housebreaking?" asked Steve.
"I called. I didn't think there was anyone home." She cocked her head at him, smiled. She held up the milk.
What he liked best about Vivian was her long slim legs. But he had never before taken full stock of the rest of her. Now his gaze traveled up to the tight hot pants she seemed to have an endless supply of, to a wasp waist, to tits not much bigger than the creamy hillocks he'd fondled and sucked earlier next-door.
"Am I about to be raped?" Vivian's hazel eyes flashed, daring him. Nor was it the first time she had looked at him that way.
Moving to his favorite armchair, Steve sat. He lit a cigarette, studied her, noting the way she stood with unconscious grace, as if unaware of her body. As if sex were a commodity apart from her. "Would being raped bother you?" he countered through a cloud of smoke.
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On who happens to be the rapist, and how good he is." She sat on the sofa opposite him, crossed her legs. She set the milk down. Pointing a slender finger at his cigarette, she added, "Can I have one of those?"
Cunt all over the place! Steve reaffirmed mentally. A guy could go nonstop from one end of the street to the other, with maybe five-minute intervals between screws. And that only to rejuvenate himself! He moved to the wide sofa, sat beside her and held a match to the cylinder she took from his pack.
"God, it's hot," sighed Vivian, plucking at her damp blouse, "I'll be damned if I know why I let Dave drag me down here every year. He and the kids have a ball, but all I do is cook and try to stay one jump ahead of the sand."
Steve felt the warm softness of her bare thigh against his. He wished she wasn't wearing a bra. He could see through the white blouse, but the whiter undergarment hid the hard little round nuggets at the tips of her breasts. They were more brown than pink, he knew; the puckered nipples of a mature woman, a mother. He could imagine them standing tall for his tongue.
Vivian must have sensed the heat rising within him. She leaned back, stretched. "Where's Midge?"
"She and Lori are gone for the day." He watched her uncross her long legs. Her thighs came slightly apart, flattened. Now he could see where the shorts hugged her lush pussy. "Lonesome me," he added, reaching across her for the ashtray on the far end table.
"Um. Two lonely people." She didn't seem to mind that his elbow had come to rest at her crotch, and was moving suggestively against her as he crushed the cigarette.
Their gazes met, locked. Her eyes flashed fire; it was as if he were looking into the crater of a live volcano. "There's no reason for two people to be lonely when one's a man and the other's a woman," he said.
Vivian sighed and slipped lower on the sofa. The gap between her thighs widened. She continued to stare, the heat from her eyes spreading to turn her cheeks crimson. She was begging to be screwed ... pressing her hot cunt into his elbow ... telling him she didn't object, wanted him.
Taking the cigarette from her, Steve mashed it out in the ashtray. His hand dropped to her thigh. Hot silk! Satin! His fingers curled over the smooth surface, the tips moving slowly up and down the velvet inner expanse.
"I like that," whispered Vivian, opening wider still, making the swell at the crotch of the shorts more accessible.
Steve watched her face contort as the palm of his hand cupped over her pussy. She was hot there ... an oven. And her ex-model thighs began to quiver even before he pressed the shorts and panties into her fat cuntlips.
Outside a car crunched into the sandy drive. The motor roared once, went silent. A door slammed. Another. "Jesus H. Christ!" barked Steve, leaping from the sofa and to the front window in time to see Midge and Lori start for the porch entrance.
Hastily, Vivian stood and straightened her shorts. She flashed him an evil look. "Gone for the day, huh?"
He started to speak, to make some inadequate excuse, but Lori ran up the steps onto the porch and was in the living room even before he could get his cock under control. She too started to speak. Then her lovely green eyes widened. Her gaze dropped to the mighty bulge in his pants-leg, shot from there to the wrinkled dampness at Vivian's crotch. She set her small jaw. "Boy, Daddy," she blurted-but low enough so that Midge wouldn't hear on the porch. "It's a good fucking thing we didn't come in five minutes from now."
It was too hot to sleep. And he couldn't stop thinking about Lori's reaction to finding him and Vivian together. Midge hadn't noticed a thing. But the girl-Christ! At fourteen she knew all the signs and seemed to take fucking for granted.
He glanced down at his wife. She lay on her back, one knee raised, arms out flung and hair spread out like a fan on the pillow. In panties and bra she was still an appealing sight. But her breasts had begun to flatten with age and there was silver among the gold down atop and between her full thighs. She no longer excited him as in the beginning; he knew every blemish, every erotic point on her body, and sex with her had become too familiar, too much like ritual.
He thought back, to the night they met at the U.S.O. She was much like Lori then-a birdlike creature, full of life and innocent awareness. He recalled the dates, the maddening objections night after night until finally, after plying her with wine, she allowed him to undress her in the back seat of a borrowed car. He remembered too his joy at finding that the hair on her pussy was as blonde and soft as the stuff on her head. And the first penetration-she wasn't a virgin, had said a cousin broke her when she was ten, but she was as tight and as new to fucking as little Betty next door.
Steve groaned, remembering. His dick rose, sprang from the fly of his shorts. It had been good with Midge. But she wasn't a blowjob. And although it had never bothered him before Jan-ice and Betty, he now felt cheated. He touched the round rise above the waistband of the transparent panties. "Midge?"
She mumbled a sleepy reply, rolled onto her side, butt to him, and began, to breathe deeply again. The nylon hugged her bottom, the crack between her plump cheeks. He'd fucked her there twice-only twice in sixteen years of marriage. She didn't like it that way, said it hurt. Now he wanted to hurt her, wanted to ram his stiffness up her tight chute and forget the lovely young girl asleep in the next room.
He touched her soft ass, closed his eyes, and envisioned Lori on the sofa the night before. He moved close, set the glans of his cock between the back of her thighs. He groaned, thinking that if Midge hadn't called, if she had gone to sleep and left them alone, his rod would have been in the girl before her eyes fluttered open. He would have committed the cardinal sin ... the dirty word used for a father who screwed his own daughter. What would Lori have done if it had happened that way, he wondered. He doubted she'd have objected. Surprise, yes. Perhaps disbelief at finding his meat in her belly. But in the months since his retirement, particularly since they arrived at the shore, he was learning that the girl they'd raised was more woman than child and seemed to want him.
Slowly, he worked the panties down Midge's wide hips, baring her ass, the hot split. But he wished it was Lori. God, how he wished it was his own little Lorie. Yet the twin halves of white flesh against him were provocative too. The crack was deep and hairy at the winking aperture he'd plowed meat into twice before. He set his dick there. He pushed the panties farther down, reached around to cup her blonde pussy, and began to press home.
Midge stirred, looked back over her shoulder with heavy-lidded eyes. "Not there," she objected. "Not tonight."
"I'm hard, honey." He fingered her cunthole, made her moan and thrash.
"But you know I don't like it there," she persisted.
"For me," grunted Steve, embedding the head of his cock in the hot brown tightness.
"Oh, no, Steve. No-owwwwwwww!" She tried to twist away from his driving member. But her cunthole breathed on his fingers and, although she continued to object, her rectum opened and began to draw him in.
"That's-ahhhhhhhhhkh! That's it, baby. Don't fight me. I need you tonight. Bad! I need you so fucking bad I ... ohhhhhhhhhhh! Oh, Christ motherfucker, I need you tonight!"
Midge went limp, allowing him to pump the length of his meat up her asshole. Her cunt sucked his fingers. "I'll be sore every time I go to the bathroom for a. week," she complained. But her buttocks began to churn rhythmically, and inside, deep within the slippery walls of her anus, tiny muscles feathered his cock ... squeezing gently ... silently pleading for the gush of cream that would tear a cry of joy from her throat despite her verbal reluctance.
Turning her onto her belly, Steve snatched the pillow from the head of the bed and propped her hips high. He turned on the nightstand lamp. There was nothing he enjoyed more than watching his big prick hump in and out, in and out between alabaster cheeks that grew pink with his furious pounding. He spread her legs wide, began to stroke: driving in to the hilt, withdrawing the shit-smeared cylinder, and humping it back up her belly in long even jabs.
"Steve! Ow! D-don't poke so hard. I ... ow! OWWWWWWWWWW!" Midge trembled. Her hands became claws that tore at the bedding. "You-owivwwwwivww! YOU'RE HURTING MEEEEEEEEEEE!"
He was beyond hearing, beyond caring about anything except the cumload inching up from the sacs slapping her naked behind. He stared with glazed eyes down at Midge, watched her soft ass flesh quiver like jelly as he stoked. But it was Lori he saw. It was Lori's little round ass he was fucking-her hot hairy dung-hole. The blonde curls were hers. The swollen pink sphincters-turning outward when he withdrew, and folding in along his pistoning shaft when he thrust-were the fiery pinchers low in the crack of her beautiful bottom. Everyone he screwed lately it seemed, every juicy cunthole and anus, every tight mouth, belonged to his Lori.
"G-G-GO EASY! You ... YOU'RE T-T-TEARING ME APART BACK THERE!" cried Midge. She lifted up onto her knees-head on the mattress, ass suspended, opening her rear port for his cruel lunges. Her hips gyrated. She was doing her damndest to rip the cum from his cock, Steve knew, trying to get it over with, trying to fuck him dry so he'd let her be.
"Keep it going, baby," he hissed, barely able to breathe. "Just ... ummmmm! Ah! Just like that!"
Reaching around and under her belly, he began to fingerfuck her wet twat. He let his weight down on her arched back, gripped and kneaded a tit with his free hand. The panties bunched at the top of her thighs were in the way, He ripped them from her, threw them onto the floor. He closed his eyes and fucked it hard up her brown-using her. The heat from her guts flooded through him, spread at his loins, and touched the trigger at the inner roots of his manhood.
"Sweetheart!" he choked, depositing goo in her rectum, gulping air.
Moaning, Midge brought her thighs together, locked the cheeks of her ass and milked. The cum-there seemed to be gallons of the thick sticky stuff-trickled out and down the lips of her cunt, dripping onto the sheets. She pressed back, grinding against him, squealing as the hot gobs leaped from the stiffness high in her chute. It was different now-good! His fingers were coaxing her hard little clit over the brink, and the soreness, the hurt of a moment before was gone.
Steve let his cock bask in the sloppy brown pocket until he began to go limp. Then he withdrew ... slowly ... inch at a time ... still savoring the sight of himself slipping from the tight treasured niche. The front of his shorts were smeared with cream and brown gook, and his dick would have to be fumigated. But it was worth it; Midge's asshole was the only exciting place left. He rolled away, fell onto his back, and looked up into her flushed face.
"Bastard!" she yelped.
He chuckled. She wasn't a bad wife. He told her so; he kissed her and pulled her down across his sweaty body. His fingers went to the hole he'd dropped his load in, probed. She wiggled away, protesting into his mouth, locking her teeth on his tongue. He felt her hand on his half-hard joystick ... jerking him off ... rubbing the tip in her silky blonde pubic hair.
He undid the bra, wanting to feel her nipples digging into his chest. At times like this he almost forgot Lori. Almost! But he never quite got the girl out of his head. He had made a lasting mistake the night before. Now, now that he had seen her lying open, vulnerable, lovely beyond his wildest dreams; now that he had felt her tender little-girl flesh and made his intentions known by being caught by her with his cock out, there was no forgetting. No matter how often he reprimanded himself, reminding himself that the girl-the adorable pink and white wonder in the next room-was his daughter, his and Midge's only child, there was no ignoring the uncontrollable lust he felt each time she came near.
Midge threw her legs wide across his thighs and rubbed the tip of his stiffening member up and down her hot open cuntlips. "Do it right this time," she whispered. "In front. Like we used to, Steve. Remember? All night sometimes. You never used to get tired of me."
Steve frowned up into her pleading face. "What brought all this on?"
Midge hesitated, looked away from his questioning eyes. "I ... I saw the way you were looking at Lori tonight. You used to look at me like that when we first met, but now ... !" She left the thought hanging between them.
Christ! thought Steve, Was it that obvious? Even to Midge? Did everyone know what he was thinking when he and Lorie exchanged secretive glances?
"Don't talk crazy," he told Midge, angry with her because what she said was true. "Lori's only a baby-fourteen! And she's my goddam daughter!"
Midge pushed the shorts down his legs, waited while he kicked them off, then got atop him again. "I wasn't much ... ummmm!" She grinded her sopping wet cunt down onto his cock, bit her lip. "I wasn't much older when we met," she finished, working her hips, drawing him in to the hilt. "And I know plenty of girls, including me ... remember my cousin? The one I told you about? Well, I know lots more who were had by their fathers and brothers and like that even before they had hair."
Steve began to object, stopped himself. Instead, he gripped the back of her head and brought her mouth down to his. He didn't want, to hear anymore about Lorie. He didn't want to think about her-about how she would be astraddle his tense legs, pulling his big daddy-hardon into the sweet little grotto between her still immature thighs.
"Do it," moaned Midge. "Hard! Fuck me, Steve. Fuck me like you used to."
He obliged. He took firm hold of the plump cheeks of her ass, and pumped himself up off the mattress into her. He abandoned her lips to mouth a firm nipple, and he grew harder because of the small pleasure noises she made. He supposed he loved Midge-even though she wasn't as innocent, as young, as good as she used to be.
He fucked. He sucked her nipples-first one, then the other-deep into the warmth of his mouth. He fingered her brown. He screwed her the way she wanted it ... fast and hard. But at the back of his mind he was scheming, anticipating Thursday, when Midge's bridge club was to meet at another summer home, and he and Lori would be alone most of the night.
CHAPTER FOUR
Thursday was a long day. It was the one day each week Midge had set aside for G-Iing the bungalow, using the work as a penance to make up for running off after supper to the weekly card game that lasted most of the night. And Lori. In jeans that hugged her plump rear, outlined her lush little wedge, and a polo shirt that was more tantalizing than nakedness, she darted from room to room with a dust cloth, humming a tuneless song and grinning mischievously each time she passed the sofa where Steve sat, pretending to be engrossed in the nonsense on TV.
He watched them both, mother and daughter. Midge was still an attractive woman, he told himself. She was older, of course, and perhaps a little less firm where it counted. But men still looked at her with lust in their eyes. And in bed, once she let her hair down, she was almost as good as ...
As what, he wondered. He had almost compared Midge to Lori. There was no way of knowing how good or how bad the girl was, he reminded himself. And yet he knew. Knew as well as he knew his own name that once they got past the natural barriers, the inhibitions, made the transition from father and daughter to lovers, Lori would be best. Better than Midge ever was. Better even than Janice and Betty combined.
He tried not to think of the girl in that way; he told himself over and over that she wasn't a cunt, but his daughter. He tried to lose himself in the soap opera on TV. But sex was there, too; the heroine had gotten herself pregnant by her husband's boss, and the husband, indignant over the infidelity, demanding a divorce, was having an affair with the boss's secretary.
As the afternoon wore on, he became restless. He moved from the sofa to the porch, paced. He smoked too many cigarettes. He tried to busy himself puttering around outside. Betty Anderson waved from her bedroom window. Lyn Anderson appeared at the kitchen door, said, "God, how can you stand it out there in this heat? I'm wilting!"
"I've seen hotter days," Steve replied, recalling the morning the dark-headed minx at the window opened first her mouth then her legs for his cock. Pussy! That was the problem. There was no way of forgetting. The area was crawling with cunts who became bored after the first few weeks of summer vacation, who paraded their stuff. Inviting. Sometimes daring. Every tit that jiggled, every pair of shorts or slacks that showed a deep crack, every moist mouth, reminded him of Lori asleep on the sofa. Lori drawing pricks on figures in muscle magazines. Lori walking in on him and Vivian. Lori. Lori!
"Would you like something?" Lyn wiped her brow with the back of one hand, tilted an imaginary glass to her lips.
"No thanks."
"Sure?"
Steve detected a pleading note in her voice. He glanced to where Betty was making cute faces, rolling her eyes as if to say Mom wants some, too. He looked back to Lyn. "Where's Stu?" he asked speculatively.
The lines around Lyn's mouth hardened. "Fishing, he says," she snapped. "He and the boys went out on a head boat this morning, and Stu, my he-man, won't be back 'til sometime tomorrow. You wouldn't believe this is supposed to be my vacation too, would you?" She shifted her weight from one hip to the other, pulling the slacks tight at her crotch.
Christ! mused Steve. There was what appeared to be great fishing grounds right there between Lyn's legs. He concentrated on the button at the waist of the white bellbottoms. "I didn't know Stu was a fisherman. He doesn't seem like the 'salt water and wind in your face' type."
Lyn gave him a long significant look. Betty said something giggly about the fishing being best at the nightclubs along the boardwalk, then her head disappeared from the window. Lyn stood silent for a moment, as if searching her mind for an adequate retort to the girl's accusation. Finally she humped. She stared at Steve with wide, smoldering brown eyes, eyes that said I know darn well Stu uses the fishing trips as an excuse to fool around, and one of these days-maybe even today if you're interested-I may just try some hanky-panky myself. Before stepping back from the screen door into the kitchen, she said. "There's beer 'n' fresh lemonade, in case you get thirsty. I'm going to lie down for a while. Just walk in and ... an' take what you want."
Cunt! thought Steve. That's what he wanted, and that's what Lyn wanted, too. They were making him crazy. Everyone wanted to screw, and he, with his big insatiable prick-probably because the other men in the area, like Stu, used the summer months to roam far from home and do what they didn't dare do in the city-was suddenly the most eligible stud around. Or so it seemed. He wasn't quite sure of anything anymore. Only Lori, who enjoyed playing sexy games ... cocking her trim teenage legs up to give him a look at her delectable white-blonde pussy ... lying around in pajamas that barely covered her ass ... acting little girlish and indignant when he went too far, but always placing herself within reach, within sight, within teasing distance of him ...
His dick swelled, irritated by the sweat running down the inside of his. pantsleg. His breathing grew labored. He turned toward the bungalow where Midge and Lori were doing the Thursday housework, toward the girl's bedroom window. Softly, he groaned. He could almost see the magazine in the top bureau drawer, the penciled-in cock hidden beneath the girl's nylon panties ... exactly where his own cock longed to be.
"God help me," he whispered in the direction of the waning sun. "Jesus, I want my own fucking daughter so bad I can almost taste her sweet pussy."
By the time the table was cleared, the supper dishes washed and set in the drain board to dry, and the kitchen lights out, Steve had gotten himself under control-had regeared the image of Lori, returning it, but none too stably, to the place where a small cuddly girl, a daughter, belonged. He watched his wife look swiftly about the living room, as if checking for land mines. Her gaze settled on Lori. "Not too late," she scolded.
"Mother! I worked hard all day!" The girl's tiny fist came down on the arm of the sofa.
Midge looked pleadingly to him. Steve shrugged. He moved to the armchair across from the girl, flopped. In the days since the afternoon Lori stepped onto the porch and showed him her scruff, and the session with Midge that followed, her admitted suspicions, mother and daughter seemed to be growing farther and farther apart. He felt out of place, awkward. More so because of what Midge had guessed. "The kid'll be okay," he said finally, paternally. "I'll see to it she gets tucked in before midnight."
"She's old enough to tuck herself ... "
"You'll be late for your bridge club," he hastily interrupted, angry with Midge because what she was thinking, what he could see in her face and hear in her voice, was true. He wanted the girl. They both knew it. Lori, too. It was an unspoken wall that had been building for days, and now, with Midge about to leave them alone for the night, there was a clown atop the wall mocking the usual mother-to-daughter-through-father small talk.
"I'll brush my teeth, hang up my clothes, say my prayers, and put on my own nightie," said Lori much too sweetly. Boldly she met her mother's hot stare. "Or would you rather I went to bed now so you can lock me in?"
A blush crept into Midge's cheeks. She opened her mouth, as if to retort, turned suddenly and was gone from the bungalow. The porch door slammed behind her. Her heels clicked down the side walk to the car. Another door slammed ... metallic-sounding. An engine roared. The crunch of tires on gravel, loud at first, growing faint as the car backed down the drive, was, inside Steve's head, the sound of a zipper being undone, the fly being opened down the front of a tight pair of jeans.
"Moo!" cooed Lorie.
"Huh?"
"What you said about Mom getting old. Like a cow. I guess that's why you had Vivian here the other day? And me-fooling around, I mean -the other night?"
Steve stiffened. The girl was embarrassing him, actually making his ashamed of his recent thoughts and actions. He stared at the crotch of her dungarees, heard the tires hum as Midge set the car in motion down the street. Wanting Lori was one thing, but having her taunt him with it, hearing it from her lips, as if he were one of her teenage boyfriends, was something else entirely. It was a sudden slap in the face. Cold water. Yet he couldn't tear his gaze away from the swell where her thighs came together; he couldn't make himself stop remembering how tiny and white-blonde and pink-slitted her plump little-girl pussy was.
Lori giggled, Her tits jiggled provocatively beneath the thin polo shirt. "Know what I like best about you, Daddy?"
My dick! he wanted to say. You liked it real good when you awoke the other night and caught me trying to get it back inside my pants. But you're my daughter. Chrissakes! Be a baby again. Hide your tits and close your legs and stop talking as if we were about to shack up.
"Sometimes you're such a dream," Lori continued. "Like in your uniform. And when you get mad. And then, like now, you get all dopey. Like I didn't catch you the other night. Like you didn't take my pajama bottoms off, and ... well, you know what I mean, Daddy. Fooling around. I was all wet, too. Especially when I heard you and Mummy fucking afterward."
Steve leaped up. "If you say that again I'll spank your ass raw."
Lori stood too. Hands on hips, feet wide apart, and pointed breasts heaving, she wailed, "It's what you wanted to do when I was asleep. Boy! Lookit you now. Wow! I thought Rudy had a big one."
Fucking Rudy, thought Steve. He'd suspected as much; they were screwing. He glanced down at himself. His dick was an extra long railroad spike in one pantsleg and was pointing-as a trained bird dog zeros in on quail-at the puffy V atop and between Lori's legs. Christ, how he wanted to ram his stiffness up there! He wanted to throw her down on the floor, tear off her clothes, and make her yell as he drove it in, in. Up her hot daughter belly. Like Rudy. Others? How many others? He moved as if in a trance, took the girl in his arms, and crushed her to him.
"Ummmmmm." Lori's arms locked tight at his neck. She stood on tiptoe, tilted her chin.
She wasn't his daughter; the soft restless body molded against him belonged to a wanton, Midge. Midge as she was long before Lori was born. Tiny and blonde, ripe. He closed his eyes and pretended. He lowered his mouth to her moist pink lips, squeezed her so hard her fragile spine threatened to break.
"Daddy." The endearment came out in a barely audible whisper ... breathless ... full of promise. Lori's tits flattened against his chest. She kissed him back, opened her mouth for his tongue and pressed her cunt to his hard-on.
Steve was lost. His head spun. The hot blood of lust roared loud in his ears. It was wrong, he knew-the unforgivable sin. For a moment he wished he had the willpower, was strong enough to step back, to release the lovely young girl. He cursed God for having made him her father, Midge for having produced an adorable self-image, Lori for being a tease, and himself for being a man, for owning a prick. His hands dropped to her small round buttocks, his nuts leaped. The pole in his pantsleg burrowed into the niche between her little-girl thighs. He wished-Christ, how he wished-he could turn the clock back, make her a baby again, make her safe.
Suddenly they were at the sofa, Lori falling back, back. He didn't know how. He didn't know anything except Lori. She wasn't resisting; she was slipping down on the cushions, pulling him down with her. Her legs opened wide. Hands still on her plump ass, kneading the velveteen melons, fingers deep in the crack, positioning himself in the gap. His cock, like a guided missile, a terrible warhead, found the heat of her sex, savored it through the denim and pants.
"Do it, Daddy," cried Lori into his mouth. "Fuck me. I ... I want you to. I want ... ummmmmmmm! Ow! Ow, Daddy, I want your ... your big dick up my pussy."
Steve stared hard into her flushed impish face. How had it happened? His whole life had been a calm, regimented daily routine, with honor and military discipline as the gas that made him go. And now, a mere few months after retirement, a few extramarital affairs, and the moral values were gone, the discipline of a lifetime shattered. He couldn't stop ... even if he wanted to. Worse, he didn't want to. He didn't care that she was his only child, that her tight delectable cunthole was sacred ground in a healthy family relationship.
How many fathers fucked their own daughters, he wondered. He'd read of some reported cases. During the long lonely nights while stationed far away from Lori and Midge, he'd read the reports, asking himself how a father could do that to his own little girl. And now all he could wonder was how many fathers were, at that very moment around the world, lying atop the warm flesh that had sprung from their loins, about to take and enjoy what their cum had created. How many were willing to risk producing a bastard child with the child they'd fathered? He hadn't any idea.
He stared into the girl's flashing green eyes, felt her tiny hand creeping low on his belly, seeking the stiffness. He felt the little-girl eagerness in the. gentle grind of her hips, the heat of her crotch, the tremor of thigh, and dismissed from his mind, banished completely from his consciousness, the thought of her as his daughter.
Lori gasped when his fingers forced the jeans and panties up her cunt from behind. "D-D-D-D-Da-deeeeee!"
"What?" demanded Steve. "Tell me what you want, baby. Say it again."
"I ... umph! Um! Hummmmmm! I want you to-ow! Ow! To s-s-stick it in. Y-your dick. P-p-put it there, Daddy. Where your fingers are. Up me. All ... all the way up my pussy. Please. Oh, please take it out an' f-fuck me. Fuck meee."
He lifted his hips, allowed her hand to take firm hold of the mighty bulge in his pantsleg. "You take it out, honey. Open the zipper and show Daddy what you want." He relinquished one tender rear melon, cupped his hand at the hot swell between her gaped legs.
Both zippers opened in unison, and both hands -Steve's forcing its way into the small opening and to the tinier aperture below the clump of soft blonde pussy hair, Lori's lost in the vast-ness, miniature fingers struggling to wrap themselves around the steely shaft-began to make love to the thing each desired. Lori mewed as his stinkfinger fucked its way beneath the panties and into her tight cuntlips, up her wet little vagina. Her ass shot up off the cushions. Her nipples went rigid beneath the thin polo shirt. Each stab of the dart in her pussy drew a Sow purring sound from the mouth that tasted so sweet, so delightfully innocent, that Steve was flung back to the day Janice taught him the joys of having his cock sucked.
"I love you, Daddy. Oh, I love you. I love you ... ow ... ow. Umph. Ah. Do it. DO IT!"
"How much do you love me?" asked Steve.
Lori thrusted her cunthole onto his finger, jerked hard on his cock. She lifted her knees at either side of his waist, let one leg drop over the edge of the sofa ... suspended ... thigh trembling. "This much," she moaned. "More t-than anything. I ... I love you here!" Her hot little hand slipped down the shaft of his prick. "An" here!" Her fingers-like curious butterflies batting their wings-curled beneath his tense balls. "I ... I love to see you up hard, Daddy. Like now. Up harder than anything just for meee."
Steve's lungs were about to burst. The words, Lori's exploring fingers, were driving him mad. His insides were tied in knots, with the biggest, the most cumbersome knot, at the place where the girl's silken hand lay curled. His sacs leaped with each gentle caress. Dizzily, his vision clouded by lust, he watched her moist lips open and close, open and close ... sharp little teeth biting down on the full lower grape with each dip of his stinkfinger. Her mouth wasn't as tight as Betty's, he could see. Her cunthole seemed tighter. But he had made up his mind, he wanted to press her flushed face down the hard length of his member, hear her gag when he shot. It somehow seemed less like incest that way-almost right.
Wildly, Lori thrashed beneath him. Her fingers crept back up the length of his tool, clutched the fat pulsing tip. "Oh, it ... it's so big. So ... so stiff."
"Like a lollipop," said Steve.
"Huh?"
Quickly he fucked another finger up her hot cunt, twisted a third into her nipping asshole. "Like the all-day suckers you used to lick way back before you had hair on your pussy. 'Member, honey? 'Member how you used to lick all over the thing and suck it in and out of your mouth? That's what I want. Your mouth on my cock. Suck me off."
The girl's eyes opened wide. "No! I ... I n-n-never sucked, I ... "
Abruptly Steve rearranged himself, sat at the edge of the sofa looking down at the girl. Quickly, before she could protest further, he pushed the jeans and panties down to mid-thigh, bared her white-blonde pussy. Lori sobbed, freed his rod, and moved her hand furiously up and down. He was tempted. The sight of her, the heady odor wafting up from the pink slit between her young creamy thighs, was intoxicating. He wanted to fuck her, ram his joint up her-ass and drive it into her face, all at the same time.
"So g-good," breathed Lori. "Hummmmmm!" Her hips churned rhythmically, fucking the wet little pocket onto and off and onto his fingers. Her own fingers squeezed as if trying to force the cum from his cock.
"Suck it!" growled Steve, afraid he would pop before it was in. "Put Daddy's prick in your mouth, baby. Love it. Pretend it's a lolly and suck. Now!"
Lori's eyes rolled back white. Her head rocked from side to side on the cushion. "No, Daddy, Please. Do ... do it the right way. Up me. Here!" Her free hand came down on the one kneading her sex, forced the fingers deeper. "It ... I ... y-your thing is t-t-too big to ... to ... "
Again Steve kissed her. Hard. Insistently. He mashed her lips open, used his tongue to acquaint her mouth with the feel of meat slipping in and out. The girl cooed as his fingers captured her clit, rubbed. Her hand worked faster on his dick, up-down, up-down the stiff length. Making his hips buck off the sofa. Making his tortured balls tight.
Steve held the kiss and worked her clit until Lori went rigid, arched her spine like a bow, shuddered, and fell back moaning. Hot juice poured from her cunt onto his hand, the slipcovers. It was time. Before she could regain her breath, while the afterglow of orgasm lulled her brain, he broke the kiss, lifted one leg onto the sofa, and said, "Kiss it, honey. Just a little kiss. Love it."
"Daddy, I ... "
"Shhh!" Cupping his hand at the back of her head, he coaxed her lovely face forward. The tiny fingers at the base of his cock tightened. His own daughter, he thought. Christ! His own baby girl, barely fourteen and there they were; her creaming all over the place, him about to stick his big dick in her mouth. It was insane. Evil! But no matter how loathsome the act, no matter how hard he tried to remember who Lori was, what they were to-each other, his stiffness knew only the warmth, the beauty, the little-girl softness and pliability. He pressed her face closer still, moist pink lips to the glans of his cock. He drove his fingers brutally up her wet cunthole. "Suck me off," he croaked. "Lori? Baby? Open your sweet little mouth, and eat Daddy's dick."
Lori whined. She looked from his sweating face to the long veiny thing protruding like a slightly bowed hickory stick from her small , fist. Her mouth opened and closed ... opened again ... slowly ... tentatively. As if she were testing the elasticity, trying to convince herself it would fit. She shivered. She looked back into his face. Her tongue appeared, flicked experimentally across the tip of his rod.
"Ar! ARRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrr!" Steve forced her head forward, pumped with his hips.
"D-Da-deeeeee." Lori gulped as the stiffness burrowed in past her teeth. Her eyes threatened to pop from their sockets. Her cheeks caved in as she tried to suck air ... noisily drawing on the fat glans ... pulling him deeper. Taking half the length into her face before Steve stopped pumping.
Outside a seagull squalled. It soared low over the bungalow, dove toward the bay in the distance. Silently it glided over the rooftops, the beach, then swooped down, grazed the moonlit surface of the Atlantic and came up with a huge silver fish protruding from its gullet. Again it squalled, the cry garbled because of the treasure. Like Lori's small cries. Muffled. Somewhere between disbelief and submission. But sucking. Taking her father's hard dick into her face in spite of the initial reluctance, the awesome size.
"Tha-that's it," groaned Steve. "Jesus! Eat it, sugar. Daddy's girl. Ummmmmm! Don't stop. Ta-take it all in. ALL! It'll ah! AHHHHHH! It'll fit, honey. Just pre ... umph! UM-MMumph! Pretend you're little again and my dick is one of them all-day suckers you liked so fucking much. Suck, sweetheart. Suck!"
At the shoreline in the distance, the gull found a rock, landed and chewed until only the silver tail remained outside its gullet. Its body grew bloated, muscular spasms drawing the prize into its belly. Just as Lori's sweet mouth was drawing the glans of Steve's big Daddy-dick deep in her throat ... neck muscles working ... tongue and lips and cheeks milking the cum up from his sacs.
The fish went down slowly. But inside the bungalow the cream came too quickly to suit Steve. He abandoned Lori's wet bush, clutched her head in both hands. He made her turn onto her stomach, pressed her face down, gasped and shot. The cum poured. His gaze traveled over her ass, the roundness, the milk-white texture, the blonde fuzz growing like fine jewel work low in the succulent crack. Panting, groaning from deep in his chest, he pumped upward, mashed the roots of his sex, his coarse cockhair, into the girl's lovely face.
What kind of a man was he, he wondered. His own daughter. He watched her small blonde head bob up and down, watched her soft-softer than soft-ass jiggle, little-girl cheeks rubbing tightly together, pinching the crack, making the roundness more alluring. There was cunt all over the place ... two right next door. Willing pussy. Blowjobs. Janice and Betty and Lyn, Vivian and all the others who, with a bit of persuasion, would throw up their dresses and pull down their panties and screw. He didn't have to use Lori. He could, he was certain, have a different cunt three times a day. Perhaps two together. Perhaps Betty and Lyn, if he worked it just right, if he concentrated, would consent to form a mother-daughter team, with him as the ringmaster. Perhaps even three. Perhaps he could turn the next barbeque, the next block beach party, into an orgy, and fuck himself out in one night. There was absolutely no reason why he should have his dick in the girl's face, except she was lovely. New. Illicit. Her mother all over again, but better. At once different and the same. Pussy!
"Lori," he sighed, doubling over, forcing the girl's face all the way down his stiff cock. He was unable to stop pissing cum. It ran from her mouth into the open fly of his pants. It grew thick in his cockhair. But it wasn't as if they were fucking, he told himself. Only a suck. A quick blowjob, with no one to see or tell. Their secret. "Again, baby," he choked.
"Ummm!" Lori wrapped her hands around the roots of his meat, glanced up. Her eyes were laughing at him, joyous. Slowly, she lifted her head, drew her lips wetly up the length of his prick, and paused with only the tip in her mouth. It was indeed their secret, her mischievous look said. She spread her legs wide, glanced back at herself, telling him with her eyes that she wanted his fingers down there. Up her cunthole. Her ass. Then her head darted down-as swiftly as a seagull diving for a big silver fish-taking him in to the hilt, and sucking, noisily sucking, greedily sucking for another hot cumload.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was a lousy day. The sun was too bright at the window, the sky too blue, the truth too repulsive. He heard Lori moving about in the next room, the wood-on-wood grate of a drawer being opened. She was selecting the clothes she would wear, as she did every morning, then the shower would start, and her humming, tuneless but nonetheless sweet, would drift through the bungalow.
Midge sighed in her sleep, turned toward him. The nightgown she wore was old, loose. One breast fell from the low neck, the nipple brown and puckered, the flesh smooth but with fine stretch marks and veins marring the whiteness. Not like Lori's firm little tits. Attractive, but no longer beautiful. No longer young.
He cursed softly, turned away from his wife and stared at the bedroom door. He heard the shower being turned on, adjusted, the water splashing into the tub, then subdued, cushioned by Lori. The humming began. Low. High-pitched, and somehow different this morning, as if she were making the little-girl sounds only for him. He listened and wondered how it had happened; how he, a man who had never broken a law, who had lived half his life without shame, how such a man could suddenly become what he was. An incestuous father. A husband who neglected his wife and fucked everything in sight. He listened intently to Lori's sweet voice, wanting to feel guilty, knowing he should, but remembering instead how good the girl was, how willing. Remembering Janice and Betty. Vivian. Lyn. Unable to quiet the hunger deep in his gut.
Again he cursed, sat up. He had to piss. His prick was stiff with morning water, protruding from the fly of his shorts. He reached for his cigarettes, lit one, and drew the acrid smoke into his lungs. He glanced back over his shoulder at Midge, wondered what she would say if she knew what had happened last night. Trying to forget, but sensitive to the sounds coming from the bathroom, to the thought of Lori naked and wet in the tub. The girl would be in there for at least half an hour, he knew. Washing. Brushing her long silken hair. On the toilet. And he did have to piss, he reasoned: he'd read somewhere, in some medical journal, that it was dangerous to hold back water or shit. Even a fart held back could hurt you internally. If he did go into the bathroom, it would be because of that and not to ogle the girl, Not to pick up where they had left off. Not to screw.
He stood, crushed the cigarette in the ashtray on the night table. His dick throbbed. It was no use kidding himself. True, he had a piss-hardon. But he awoke with a like dilemma every morning, and never before had he considered entering the bathroom while Lori was there. He started for the door.
"Steve?"
He turned to find Midge watching him from the bed. Her gaze dropped to his fly, leaped back to his face. She knew. He could see it in her sleepy green eyes, in the blush that crept into her face whenever she thought about sex. "I have to piss," he said gruffly.
"Lori's in there."
"So?"
"I ... " She bit her lip, frowned. She sat up, propped herself against the pillows and brushed a wisp of hair from her brow. Confusion crossed her face. It was as if she were seeing him for the first time and equating what she saw with the comments she'd made on the night he came in to find Lori on the sofa, the night it began. "You can't go in there while she's taking a shower," she finished at last. "She ... she's a woman now, and you can't walk in on her like ... like that!" She pointed at the red bulbous tip of his dick, bit her lip again.
Steve was suddenly angry-with Midge for having guessed the truth, and with himself for making it obvious, for thinking with Ills cock instead of his head. He stood at the door for a long time. Until his piss-hardon went down, leaving a limp hose hanging from the fly of the shorts, and leaving no doubt in his mind-or in Midge's mind, he could see in the troubled look on her face-about the cause of the stiffness.
Without speaking, knowing there was nothing he could say to refute the physical evidence, knowing too that this was not the time to speak, that Midge needed to be left alone with her own thoughts, he strode to where his pants lay on the floor near the bed. He had never done that before either, he mused. The service had taught him neatness. And that was the problem: system and regimentation! In the past few weeks, since they'd arrived at the summer home and he'd made up his mind to compensate for the long line of neat years behind-years of training, and early to bed, early to rise-his entire outlook had changed, and was changing still. He was no longer the guy with stripes on his arm and a rifle stuck up his ass to keep him from going any way but straight. He was free.
"W-where you going now?" asked Midge, voice small and timid, looking as if she might cry as he slipped the pants on, stepped into loafers, and again started for the door.
"Out!" he snapped. "To take a piss where I don't have to wait in line."
He walked angrily around the block three times before deciding to stop at the Anderson house. He saw it ahead, shabby beside his bungalow, in need of repairs. Stu rarely worked on the place. Shingles were gone from the roof, and the paint, faded yellow with dingy white trim, was at least four years old. He recalled what Lyn had said about Stu the day before. A fishing trip. A day and a night, and another half day, with an excuse to do what even Betty knew about. He turned into the drive, wondering if Lyn would prove as hospitable this morning as she had been the evening before.
Betty came rushing out the screen door, almost knocked him down. He caught her shoulders, grinned- into her pixie face. She was bright-eyed and scrubbed clean, a tempting morsel. It was great the way the prospect of another young piece, one he had already sampled and knew to be almost as good as Lori, almost as eager, could banish the anger, the doubt, make him sure of himself once again, set the adrenals flowing hot in his loins. He stared down at her miniature tits, mostly nipple and showing plainly through the T-shirt-like top she wore. His gaze dropped to the crotch of her short-shorts.
Betty giggled, covered her mouth with one fragile hand and glanced nervously back at the house. "Boy," she whispered, "if everyone I knew was like you, all I'd ever do is ... well, you know!" She twisted out of reach, ran down the drive. "Gotta meet the kids," she called back, waving. She was gone before he could ask where her mother was.
Steve stood at the door, undecided whether to knock or take Lyn at her word, the open invitation the day before, and walk right in. He scratched softly on the screen, tried to peer into the house. Nothing. No movement, no answer. The bungalow was dark compared to the glare of sunlight, and if Lyn was in, she was at the opposite end of the place, maybe still in bed.
Did she sleep naked, he wondered. Pajamas? A housecoat like the one Betty was wearing the day he walked in on her? The prospect of finding out made him pant. Quietly, he opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. He eyed the long hall off the kitchen, the way to the bedrooms and bath. He had to piss, he reminded himself. His cock was no longer hard, but felt -bloated. His bladder was full. "Lyn?" But not really loud enough, not really wanting to be heard. He stepped into the hall, started for the bathroom door beyond the master bedroom.
He stopped short, drew a sharp breath. Lyn was dressing. She stood before the dresser at the far side of the bedroom, reaching up and behind to hook the snaps of her bra ... sheer panties covering her plump ass like a second skin ... the nylon sunk deep in the crack. It was like looking at twins; the one in the mirror was showing him her tits and the dark puffy triangle at the crotch of the panties, the other displaying the backs of full thighs, and the motor, her wide bottom, that made the front go when a man climbed aboard. He forgot about having to piss. He forgot about Betty, Lori, Janice, Vivian, Midge. He forgot everything except how good it felt to stick his dick in a strange pussy.
Lyn sighed as the stubborn snaps caught, dropped her arms and turned. "Oh!"
"I'm sorry, I ... " he began, stopped himself. Why bother, her reasoned, she knew what he wanted. Cunt! She had as much as offered it to him yesterday. There was no reason to fake it, waste time. "I figured you'd be asleep," he continued. "In bed. I saw Betty go out and wanted to catch you that way. But this is even better."
"How dare you!" Lyn balked. She retreated. One hand spread like a fan with five stems at her pussy, the other went to her tits.
Steve laughed. Women were all alike, all wanting to screw, but playing it coy, demanding a chase, persuasion. Stepping boldly into the room, he closed the distance between them. His hand captured the one at her tits, brushed it away. "I like you better this way," he said softly. "You've got a beautiful body, Lyn, don't hide it. Every time I look at you, I think, She must be a great lay. I bet her cunt is tighter than Betty's. Hotter. Like mother like daughter."
"You bastard, you ... you didn't!"
"She fucks like a bunny if that's what you're asking. I bet she got it from you. I bet she lays awake night listening to you and Stu, and that's how she learned all the tricks. She sucks pretty good, too. You ever try that? Sucking? A dick in your face?"
Lyn tried to move past him, toward the bed where her housecoat lay. Steve caught her arm, spun her. She tried to slap his face. He caught that hand, too, twisted both arms behind her back, held her wrists trapped and forced her close. The nylon panties crackled electrically against his pants. His dick began to rise.
"L-llet me go," hissed Lyn.
"I might if I thought you really wanted me to. But you don't want me to."
"I do. Do!" She squirmed, rubbing her cunt, her belly, her thighs, against him, bringing his dick up tall. "Oh, you ... you ... you fucking cocksucker, you!" she cried. "Betty's only twelve. A baby. You animal. You ... you ... oh, let me fucking go!"
"I'll let you fuck any way you want to, but not go," he taunted. The hand holding her wrists moved teasingly up and down the hot crack of her quivering ass. He pressed forward, making her back up until her thighs met the edge of the mattress. He let her go, let her fall back onto the bed and bounce. He was on her, spreading her legs on the rumpled bedding before she could regain her balance.
Lyn fought, panted. She clawed and kicked, twisting her face away each time he tried to cover her lips with his mouth. He shoved his hand between her legs, made her open, and fingered her slit through the panties. She gasped, struggling still, refusing to kiss him, but gaping her legs and accepting the fingers as readily.
Steve nuzzled her breasts. His fingers found the elastic legband of the panties, slipped beneath to weave patterns in her wiry cunthair, then approached the mouth of her sex but pulled abruptly back each time her hips rose off the bedding. He had her, he knew. It was getting easy-almost too simple. He locked his teeth on one cup of the bra, tugged. Her huge breast jumped free, the nipple red-brown and turgid. He sucked the fat bud into his mouth, worked it around on his tongue and rubbed the hot hairy mound of her sex.
"Stu'll be home soon," whispered Lyn.
"He's fishing."
"Betty ... "
"She has a date. By now she's probably doing the same thing we're doing."
"Oh, don't. Don't do it. Not now. Wait. I-" her ass shot off the mattress to meet the finger slipping finally up her wet gash. "Ohhhhhhhhh. Owww. Y-you ... you-ow! Don't. You mustn't. You ... we ... oh! Oh! OH!"
Steve lifted his face from her tit. This time she didn't resist. Her lips opened, her mouth accepted his tongue. The fists at his chest uncurled, fingers splayed, reaching for his shoulders, searching. Her nails bit into his flesh. She moaned, raised one knee, and kissed him back. Her cunt drew him deep, the satiny inner muscles working like an excited clam on his stabbing fingers. The estimation was correct, Steve affirmed mentally, she was going to be a great lay. Already her cunthole was sopping wet, eager. Already her ass was in motion. He threw his leg over her thigh, letting her feel the stiffness, the urgent need in his pants.
Turning slightly onto her side, Lyn placed her thick bush close to the bulge. Steve glanced down. The kinky black hair of her pussy was bunched at the leg of the panties, the scruff parted where his fingers stoked. He liked hairy cunts. He remembered the time Midge was shaved to give birth to Lori, how stupid it looked. A cunt without hair was like Thanksgiving without turkey; a holiday still, a treat, but not nearly so good. He eyed the wiry coils, felt them spring up against the palm of his hand, felt her cuntlips-mature, fat, and pouting-nip like a toothless puppy on his wet fingers. He sniffed. Lyn had a stronger aroma than Betty. He could almost see it shimmering up from her twat, like heat rising up from the pavement on a July afternoon. Like the cloud that wafted in off the docks when the Shrimpers came in. He made the kiss last, prolonging the moment of entry. He devoured her with his eyes, letting gaze travel leisurely up to her one naked tit, then back to her heaving belly-some fat, but not enough to mention-the perfect cushion for lovemaking. He tried to gauge the strength in her full mother thighs, to imagine the feel of her short legs tight at his waist, the heels of her feet high on his back. Anticipating. Making the conquest even better through the uncertainty of what she would be like once his hard dick was in. Dipping. Sloshing in and out. Grating across her sensitive clit with each forward lunge.
Momentarily, he abandoned her cunt, searched for the snaps he had watched her struggle with when he arrived at the bedroom door. Lyn turned farther onto her side, helping him now, the last ounce of resistance gone. The bra came undone. He slipped the straps from her shoulders, down her arms, off. Her big tits quivered like pink and white Jell-o.
He broke the kiss. "Take these fucking things off," he growled, tugging at the waist of the panties.
Lyn hesitated. In her eyes there was doubt- not the doubt of unwillingness, but a question. "Did ... did you really d-d-do it to Betty?" she asked in a hoarse voice. "F-fuck her like you said? In ... in the mouth too?"
"I would've fucked 'er again this morning if she hadn't run when I got here," he replied bluntly. "She's good. A virgin til I broke 'er in. But a natural. That hot little pink cunt of hers can do tricks you wouldn't believe. And her mouth! Christ! She sucks almost as good as ... Jesus motherfucker! Almost as fucking good as Lori!"
Lyn blinked. Disbelief, confusion, crept into her face. "L-L-Lori? Your Lori?"
He nodded, delighted by her reaction. Suddenly he didn't care who knew about him and Lori. Lyn wouldn't tell, he was certain. Not while he was fucking her too. Not while she had her own secrets to hide. Again he considered the possibility of an orgy. "You should watch that kid go," he continued, setting it up in his head, envisioning a tangle of female arms and legs and himself in a huge bed. "Betty, too. I never fucked anything near as good as those two. It's something to see. You might learn something."
Lyn made a subdued sound of disgust. But in her brown smoldering eyes there was curiosity, the same look he'd seen in Betty's wide frightened eyes when his dick came up hard and he steered her tiny hand to it. Women were strange, complex creatures, he was learning, timid, voicing revulsion at the first mention of illicit sex, but far more eager than men once the barriers were down and the fucking began. He tugged at the waist of the panties, pushing them down past the mass of ebony curls crowning her womanhood. His fingers crept beneath her big ass. "Take 'em off," he demanded, rubbing the furious bulge of his cock along the smooth inner expanse of her thigh, the tip grazing her cunt-hole.
"I ... I should hate you!" yelped Lyn. "M-my Betty. An' Lori, your own daughter! Oh! You ... y-you're a ... an animal! A ... ap-p-pervert!"
"Off!" He stared into her face, intimidating her, willing her to comply. Slowly, her hands dropped. He watched her thumbs hook at the waist of the panties. She raised up for the hand kneading her buttocks, doubled her legs, and slid the nylon down, threw the panties to the floor, "Now my pants," commanded Steve, feeling suddenly omnipotent. Cruel. He guided her hands, waited while she undid the belt, his fly. He kicked off his loafers. "Take the fuckin' things all the way off," he ordered, shifting so she could get the pants and shorts down his, legs. All the time watching her face. Noting each muscular twinge, revolt, a residue of revulsion making her jaw square, then partial acceptance, a relaxation of features, undeniable pleasure as his fingertips probed deep in the split up her backside.
At last they were naked, Steve propped on his elbow above her, hands encircling the base of one succulent tit. He squeezed, made the nipple stand tall. Again he lowered his head and sucked the bud into his mouth.
"Ow, Owwwwwwwwww!" Lyn trembled. Her hips rolled from side to side on the sheet, wet black pussy reaching for the stiffness dry-humping her thigh. One arm snaked over his shoulder, hand curled at the back of his neck. Her other hand moved down his body, through the matted hair on his chest, pausing to test the hardness of his washboard abdomen, stopping timidly at the forest surrounding his sex.
Steve held his breath. Waiting, Knowing that soon, when the urge became more than she could endure, when her cunthole demanded its due, the hand would close tight on his prick, and Lyn, like the others, would do anything he asked. He sucked first one nipple then the other, tonguing the tensile buds until both were twice normal size.
The hand clutched suddenly. Steve gulped. He watched her legs open wide, felt her tug at the knob of his cock, trying to steer it home. "Easy, baby," he choked. "Make it last. Slow. Go um! UMMMMMMmmm! Go fucking slow!"
"Bastard!" Lyn gritted her teeth, refused to meet his gaze. But her hand stoked. A tiny bead of clear gel appeared at the tip of his dick. Her finger distributed the lubricant, palm working it over the cylindrical shaft, preparing the stake for the initial lunge. Small, unintelligible noises came from deep in her throat. Her hips bucked. The sound of her breathing filled the room. Her pussy began to smoke, the heat from her gash actually visible, rising up to tantalize his nostrils -with the sweet woman stink. She was his. His to do with as he pleased.
Looking her up and down, from the mysterious blackness of her pussy to the equally appealing pinkness of her mouth, Steve tried to decide which hot little port to weigh anchor in. He kissed down her belly and into the hair. She squirmed, urging him on. He craned his neck to stare wondrously into the livery folds of her cunt. He grinned. It was, he had to admit, a dumb-looking contraption-as if someone had made the cut with an ax, leaving, layers of raw flesh, and completing the job by placing a pink-headed soldier at the main gate. His gaze traveled lower, met her tight winking asshole. The smell there was stronger. Dank. Almost repulsive. As if she hadn't wiped herself well the last time she shit. He considered her sphincters. He had never been one for backdooring, had tried it only once, had made the girl mess the bed and had never gone back for more. But he had never been one for blowjobs either, he reminded himself. Not until Janice. And Lyn's ass did have unique qualities. Like the dimples in .each snow-white cheek, the softness. What appeared to be an extra deep crack, an extra tight round-eye, His dick sprang free of her, hand, as if in agreement. As if telling him to guide it there, set the fat tip in the brown tightness and watch.
"Damn you," sobbed Lyn. "Why don't you do something? P-put it in!"
"Where?" countered Steve.
She met his gaze now, the revulsion back in her eyes. "You ... you know where. Where it goes. In ... in my cunt! I won't blow you, if that's what you're thinking. No! I won't do it. I ... won't!"
Steve laughed, amused by the lie. She'd do whatever he told her to do, he knew. He positioned himself between her fleshy white thighs. "Who said anything about sucking? Not me, baby. I've had that from the best-Betty and Lori, Now I want some of this!"
"Oh! Oh, you fucking no good bastard, s-s-sto-op!" She tried to twist away from the spike burrowing low between the tender halves of her ass. "No! NO-OWWWW!"
Steve ignored her. Staring down, watching his dick perform, he humped. The tip disappeared into the tuft of blackbrown hair at the mouth of her rectum. The delicious bite of her sphincters tore a strangled cry from his lips. He humped again. Harder. He pressed, using his weight to drive the torpedo into the tightness.
Lyn wiggled back on the mattress, retreating a bit before he caught up to her. But the more she fought, the more determined he became. An asshole screw ... how long had it been? He couldn't remember, didn't try. Instead he reached beneath her, took firm hold of the fat cheeks of her rear and pulled her up to meet his next forceful drive. She yelped, opened her mouth as if to scream. He stifled the cry with a kiss. Sucking the breath from her lungs, gagging her with his tongue, he spread the soft mounds of her bottom and pumped half the length of his throbbing joint up her delectable chute.
"Umph! Ohhh! Ummmmmmmmmmuupphhh! Ummmmmmmmmmm," moaned Lyn ambiguously. But there was nothing ambiguous about the way she moved, nothing to guess at in the sensuous grind of her hips. She opened her legs wider still, cocking them at the knee-a frog spread-eagled beneath him. The flesh along her inner thigh trembled. Her cunthole opened and closed wetly on his coarse cockhair.
He let his cock bask. Moving one hand around to her pussy, he captured her clit between thumb and forefinger. Gently he pinched. Lyn squealed. He rolled the bud, taunting her, making her thrash. The bed rocked like a boat out to sea. Her movements drew his dick deeper. Her asshole sucked the fat glans, the slippery walls of her rectum suddenly eager, willing, wanting it all. But it wasn't enough for Steve; he wanted to prove to her, to himself, that he could persuade her to do whatever he asked. That fucking was a narcotic, and once she was hooked, knew the joy of a manmeat injection, nothing else-not daughters or husbands or wives, morals or conscience-mattered. That the holes in a woman's body were made to be plugged and cocks were invented to fill the vacant slots.
He pulled back, marveling at the way her tight asshole protested, tried to hold him. He raised up on outstretched arms, looked into her face. He stared for a long time, watching her chew her lip, start to speak, stop herself, and lay docile. He glanced down to where his long prick protruded from between the halves of her ass, only the tip embedded. "I changed my mind," he said at last. "About the blowjob. I think it'd go pretty good about now."
"You rotten ... "
He pulled all the way out before she could complete the sentence. Her mouth formed a wide disappointed O. Her hand reached for him. Quickly Steve rearranged himself on the bed, crotch to face, crotch to face. "That what you want, baby? Take it! All you want!"
Lyn stared askance at the shit-smeared rod bobbing at her chin. "It ... oh, it's the filthiest thing! It ... it stinks!"
"That's your own hole you smell, not me. Wash it off. With your tongue." He laid his cheek on her thigh, blew into her bush. Her ass bucked. He moved his face closer, wedged one arm beneath her, his hand coming up from behind between her gaped legs. With two fingers, he spread the lips of her cunt and blew harder.
"Ohah! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Lyn clutched his prick as if she were drowning and it was a life raft. Her eyes fluttered closed. She turned onto her side, cocked one leg and strained with her hips. Her pussy ground itself into the morning stubble on his chin. "Oh! Oh! Ohah! Owwwww! Umph! Ah! UMMMM-MMMMMMMMmmmmah!"
He knew what she wanted-knew too she would do what he wanted once he gave it to her. His tongue lashed out, raked her gash. The pouting lips opened. Her clit popped out. He caught the sensitive bud between his teeth, shook his head like a dog playing with a bone.
"Oh, God. Oh! Oh God, yessssss," whispered Lyn. "Um! Do it. Steve? Do it to me, to me, to me."
"Do what?" he mumbled against her pussy.
"My cunt. Like t-that. Um!"
He licked up one juicy cuntlip, down the other. He flicked his tongue into the breach, down the crack of her ass and back. His fingers teased both hot hairy holes. He inched his dick closer, within tonguing distance, said, "It works both ways, baby. Suck for suck."
"I do hate you. I do!"
His teeth closed on a clump of coarse pussy hair, chewed. It was nice to be hated, he thought. Hated the way Lyn was about to hate him. With her mouth. Sucking. Drinking his cream. He felt her hot breath on the knob of his rod, drove his tongue deep in her cunthole and inched closer still.
Suddenly Lyn took the initiative. She rolled, placing him on the bottom, her legs astraddle his face and mouth suspended above the pole standing straight up from his cockhair. "All right!" she sobbed. "I ... I'll do it. I will. Only don't stop again. Eat me. My cunt. Eat it good. I ... I'll do it. An-y-thing!" Her lips brushed the tip of his joint. She cooed. Her mouth opened wide. Slowly she lowered her face.
Lights flashed inside Steve's head. The wrinkled skin on his balls went tight. He fucked up into the warmth, the moistness. He heard Lyn gag. He too opened his mouth wide, covered her cunthole and sucked ... showing her how it was done ... gulping the sweet juice from her pussy ... sniffing her stink. He felt her soft lips slide down the shaft of his tool, pause midway while she tasted the strange thing in her face. He let his ass fall back to the bed, demonstrating how smoothly a cock slipped in and out of her mouth. His dick felt suddenly cold. He lifted, replacing the veiny stiffness in the warmth, the tight wetness.
Going slowly, tentatively, taking only an inch at a time, Lyn took him back in. Her ass began to sway gently from side to side. Her cunt dripped goo on his face. She took his fat balls in her hand, hefted them. "Gog!" she exclaimed. "Um! Um, do it, Steve."
He didn't have to be told; he'd won! But the prize was yet to come-the blast that would tear his insides apart, leave both of them spent and gasping. He gripped her wide hips, stared into her asshole and sucked. It was far better this way, he mused. Getting a blowjob was good, but participating, chewing a pussy and tonguing a clit while it happened, was like drawing interest on money in the bank. Like having the best of everything. Like what he imagined heaven would be, if there was such a place. Two for one, Double your pleasure, double your fun.
He envisioned Lori taking a shower, recalled the look on Midge's face when she awoke and saw his piss-hardon. He still had to piss. But fucking came first; mouth to joint, mouth to pussy resuscitation. There would be time enough later for pissing and thoughts of Midge. Time for decisions.
He buried his nose in the crack of her ass, drove his tongue as far up her nipping vagina as it would go. He lifted his knees at either side of her head, braced his weight on his feet. Lyn stepped up the pace. He matched it, roll his hips down, skimming the sheets, never quite touching the mattress. Fucking. Pumping upward and back. In and out, in and out. Lyn was a good pupil. She took him in to the roots, held for a moment before allowing his dick to retreat, then was there, coming down to meet his next lunge, mashing her cunt into his face at the same time.
The room seemed to spin. He watched the ceiling tumble over and over and over, matching the sway of Lyn's hips. He saw the sky through the window, the top of Lyn's head in the dresser mirror across from the foot of the bed. He heard seagulls, their cries interspersed with the soft moans and gulps from the mouth swabbing his tool. He felt the orgasm building ... in his nuts ... in the hole he was sucking. He worked faster. He traced the deep crack of her ass with one finger, shafted the dart into the slot his hard dick had recently vacated.
"I ... oh! "liiiiiiiiii! S-S-Steve! Owl I ... I'm c-c-oh! OH! I ... I ... "
"Coming!" he supplied, already there, already shooting hot gook into her mouth.
Later there would be time for problem solving, he decided, For Lori and Midge. For getting his thoughts straight and untangling the mess he could sense brewing next door. Later. Sometime between now and the next lay.
CHAPTER SIX
No summer had ever passed so quickly. It seemed as if they had just arrived, as if he had only the day before begun to make up for what he had missed while in the Army, and suddenly, far too suddenly, it was Labor Day-back to school for Lori, for him and Midge back to the daily city grind. Nothing had been resolved. The weeks had slipped by unnoticed, each of them so thoroughly involved in the hectic vacation routine, that there was no time to think, to reason things out, to attempt to span the awkward breach created on the morning Midge awoke and saw the physical proof of what she had merely been guessing at since the night Steve first touched the girl while she lay asleep on the sofa.
The anticipated orgy hadn't materialized. For Steve, the summer had begun with a promise and had ended with disappointment. He sat slouched behind the wheel of the family car, trying to ignore Lori's sexy antics in the rear-view mirror, and trying to get Midge to talk about her fall plans, the traffic, anything.
But it was no good. Midge had withdrawn, almost as if she were giving him to Lori. There was an unspoken understanding between them; they were husband and wife in public, but at home alone, when other couples made love, the bedroom door was locked after supper, and the sofa, the place where Lori always seemed to be at bedtime, was his for the night. And Lori was always willing to soothe him, always eager to make it momentarily right by giving Daddy what Mummy had denied. It was a situation that perpetuated itself.
"Can't we stop for a Coke?" Lori asked now. "We've been going for hours, Daddy. Hours!"
He glanced sidelong at Midge. She continued to stare at the windshield, eyes unblinking behind the dark glasses, as if she hadn't heard. "Relax," he told the girl. "We'll be home soon enough. Enjoy the ride."
"Rut Daddy!"
He watched her cute sunburned face in the mirror. You owe me that much, her look said. Boy!
They lapsed into silence again, the steady thump of the tires, the sway of the car, putting distance between them and the shore. It was the first chance Steve had had to reason things out ... Lori ... Midge. It was indeed an awkward situation. But it wasn't as if he were actually fucking the girl, he mused. Lord knew he wanted to. Each time her hot little mouth gripped him, each time he touched her warm naked flesh- feeling but never permitting himself to go all the way, to fuck-it was as if they were the only two people left in the world. But he had decided the first time, the first day the moral barriers fell, t-hat there were plenty of others to screw, and Lori was special. Only her mouth. Her lovely young face. It wasn't as if he were actually committing incest, because the girl would never get pregnant from sucking his cock.
Trees whizzed by the car. A convertible, two teenage longhairs in front, passed them, the boy on the passenger side flirting with Lori. She scowled, slumped in the back seat, and rolled her eyes at Steve in the mirror.
Traffic grew heavy, slowing them down as the turnpike exit appeared ahead on the right. Steve sighed. Back to work, he thought. But with the experiences of the summer behind, and more extramarital adventures ahead. Midge? There was no telling! Eventually he'd figure it out, settle her down. They had already invited the Andersons and the Sniders to visit with them in the city, and if he worked it just right, got Viv and Betty and Lyn on his side, put Lori to work on her mother, perhaps Midge would see things their way. Perhaps she'd realize that balking was nonsense, come around, and then, again if he worked it just right, the orgy he'd planned as icing on the vacation would materialize.
He braked for the toll booth, choosing the one on the right to create an excuse to touch Midge's hand. She reached for the coin he offered. "Summer's over," he said softly, significantly, knowing she would read more than was meant into the statement.
He paused to look down at her legs, at the place where the minidress dipped into her crotch. He didn't want to lose her. He wanted them both-mother and daughter. In the Army he had conquered impossible objectives; had taken strategic positions others refused to dare, always making even the most unlikely things work his way. He wasn't used to defeat, didn't like it.
A pair of fingers snapped inside his head. Why not, he reasoned. Boldness! He could take Midge in the same military fashion, seek and destroy all defenses. Attack when expected to retreat, give ground when called for. Once they were home, in familiar surroundings, in the bed they'd christened on their wedding night, the place where Lori was made, he'd surprise her with a frontal onslaught. He'd tell about him and Lori, the others. Shock her. Break through her lines. He'd use her reactions, her revulsion-just as he had used Lyn Anderson's disbelief-to get his own way.
He glanced back at Lori. She was still watching the boys in the convertible, engrossed in spite of herself, peeking over the edge of the door. He turned back to Midge. "No more fucking bridge clubs," he finished at last. "No more goddam locked bedroom doors."
Midge too glanced back at their daughter, countered, "No more Lori?"
The car behind them honked impatiently. He motioned to the toll box. He watched Midge lean out the window to drop the coin into the slot. The hem of her dress rode high, exposing one nylon-clad cheek of her tempting ass. He cupped his hand there, squeezed. She jumped, turned and stared uncertainly into his eyes. "No more nothing you're not a part of," he said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It simply wasn't to be. He'd forgotten that home was a place where Lori had friends, and that all of her friends were delightful young girls, and that girls, like Janice and Betty, Lori herself, found him attractive. He had barely gotten the front door open, had yet to bring the bags in from the car, when the first minx appeared.
"Hey! Hey, Lori, you're back!"
Lori waved. "Hi, Deb."
Steve stood at the open door, wondering how little Debbie Watson from down the street had managed to grow tits since the last time he saw her. He watched the two embrace, saw Debbie eye him shyly over "Lori's shoulder. Little girls did grow up, he reminded himself. All the squealing minxes he remembered from his leaves, the kids Lori used to bring home for cookies and milk, would be young ladies now. Ripe. In bloom. They would be wearing bras and blouses in place of the colorful pullovers; silk and nylon pantyhose, panties and sheer silk stockings, instead of little-girl cotton drawers. But Debbie was wearing none of these; there were no elastic pantyleg ridges beneath the hip-huggers caressing her ass, and nothing but nipple showing through the crop top.
" 'Lo," said the girl, acknowledging him. She stepped back from Lori, cocked her small head and eyed him curiously. "Hey! Where's your soldier suit?"
"Daddy retired," supplied Lori, making it sound as if he were 300 years old. "Didn't you know? He'll be home all the time now. Resting up. Won't you, Daddy?" She grabbed Debbie's hand, ran past him into the house before Steve could reply.
Steve shook his head. Cunt! Even Lori was jealous! If he did live to be 300, he'd never understand women, he was certain. He returned to the car for the bags, the image of the girl vivid in his mind. He wondered if Al Watson ever looked at his daughter in the way he looked at Lori. Al was a horny old bastard, he knew; there wasn't a Friday that went by without him running off to what he told Helen was his "bowling night with the boys." But all the boys had tits and lived in the plush whorehouse downtown, and the extra money Al made, his last raise, the one he hadn't told Helen about, supported the outings. It wasn't difficult to imagine the man putting it to the delectable Debbie.
Midge was changing when he returned to the house with Lori's suitcases. He headed for the girl's room, stopped in the hall out of sight, listened.
"He's a dream!" Debbie was saying in an excited whisper. "We went for a ride in his dad's new car last night, an' we parked--out by the old football diamond. Wow, Lor! It took him maybe two minutes to get my top off."
Steve almost dropped the bags. He glanced back over his shoulder. The door to the master bedroom stood ajar and he could see Midge, perched at the edge of the mattress, peeling the nylons off her trim legs. He moved closer to Lori's room, out of Midge's line of vision and to where he could see the gossiping girls.
"But he's only a boy!" Lori was seated Indian fashion at the center of the bed, the skirt high on her thighs, the blonde curls showing at the sides of her panties. But Steve had eyes only for Debbie. The girl lay on her stomach, legs raised at the knee, ankles crossed, and succulent little round ass squirming like two pups in a blanket each time she moved. "Boys're okay," Lori told her. "But I like men!"
Debbie propped her chin in the cradle formed by her hands. "Ha!" she blurted. "I suppose you know all about it!"
"I do. I had Rudy doing me all summer. And a man, a real dream, doing me too."
Debbie sat up. "Who?"
Steve coughed, stepped abruptly into the room and set the bags down. He eyed the pair. They stared back at him guiltily. He didn't care if Debbie knew, but he, not Lori, had to be the one to tell her. At the right time. When they were alone. When he could use what he'd heard to get into her mischievous pants. It was going to take longer than he had anticipated to make up with Midge, he decided. Because he had made up his mind to not only tell the Watson girl what she wanted to know, but to show her.
By nightfall the house was in order, the suitcases unpacked, and Midge's mother was on the phone wanting to know if they'd gotten home in one piece-the way Stevie drives! He listened to Midge say, "Yes, Ma. Uh-huh. That's right, Ma. Of course," for ten minutes, until Lori came into the room and asked for five bucks and a ride to the neighborhood hangout.
Frowning, Midge watched him rise from the armchair. Placing her hand over the mouthpiece, she said, "It's only a few blocks, Steve. Lori can walk."
But it wasn't Lori he was interested in. He'd heard Debbie say she'd be home alone most of the night, babysitting while her parents went to a show. It was the ideal opportunity to "kill three birds with one stone; to begin reconciling Midge, to show Lori he wasn't hers to command, and to visit the curious minx who considered boys who took off her clothes to be real dreams. He reached for his wallet, extracted a five. "Your mother's right," he told Lori. "It won't hurt you to walk. Besides, I have to see Al Watson on business. His firm does our accounting and I have to set up a few things."
Midge murmured another uh-huh into the phone, apparently satisfied. And before Lori could say what he knew she was about to blurt, he had hustled her to the front door and out. "I'll be awhile," he directed at Midge. "You know Al Watson. He'll probably talk my damn ear off for an hour before we get anything settled."
Outside, Lori gave him a dirty look. He took hold of her arm, marched her down steps, down the walk to the street. She started to balk. He motioned toward the living room window, where Midge sat watching them through the blinds. "But Debbie's father's not home an' you know it," Lori cried.
He grinned, turned her, and started her down the street. She looked back, glanced again at the lighted living room window. She looked down at the five dollar bill in her hand, then at him. For the moment they were father and daughter, nothing more. Steve could see she didn't like it, didn't think it was fair. Liked even less the thought of him with Debbie. He stood firm, playing the game for their audience, Midge. Until finally Lori relented, turned again, and was gone. He sighed, did an about-face, paused to light a cigarette, then strode purposefully toward the Watson place.
Debbie appeared at the door after the second ring of the bell. She had set her shoulder-length chestnut hair in curlers, and there was a brown smudge, what he supposed was chocolate, on her cute chin. She cocked her head as she'd done that, afternoon, waited. When he said nothing, merely stood looking past her at the noisy TV, she smiled, piped, "Love American Style. It's my favorite program. I even watch all the reruns."
She began to fidget under his gaze. He watched her tits, the nipples like pinkietips reaching, rise and fall evenly beneath the skimpy crop top. She was the same age as Lori, but taller, her lush little body more mature, wider of hip, fuller of breast. He eyed her bare navel, wanting to drop to his knees and kiss her there. To hold her round ass in his hands and chew the front the hip-huggers off with his teeth. His dick was already beginning to stir, to creep down the inside of his pantsleg like a hungry python uncoiling at the scent of easy prey. His nuts ached. He hadn't had a strange piece of pussy in days, and was so anxious, so horny from anticipating this moment all day, that he couldn't for the life of him think of a thing to say.
"M-my father ... n-n-nobody's home 'cept me and the baby," offered Debbie.
"I came to see you," he managed.
"Huh?"
"About the old football field outside town. What you and your boyfriend did out there in his dad's car last night. What you were telling Lori about in her bedroom today."
Debbie gulped, stepped back, and clutched her hand to her mouth. He moved suddenly into the house, closed the door. He watched her gaze drop to his crotch, jump back to his face as if his long dick were a blowtorch, had seared her feathery lashes, her big brown-babydoll eyes. "I ... I ... "
He laughed, self-confidence returning. He liked them young. Pliable. More than a girl, yet not quite a grown woman. He glanced swiftly about the room, zeroed in on the deep easy chair facing the TV. He envisioned himself in the seat, the girl in his lap. He imagined her thighs astraddle the arms of the chair, cunthole gaped open, coming down on his meat. Was her pussy hair black, he wondered. Silky?-Coarse? Chestnut-colored like the hair on her head? He stepped close, took her hand. Her fingers curled over his like the wings of a delicate bird. "C'mon," he said hoarsely. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna tell your old man. I got something to show you."
Debbie held back for a moment, then allowed him to walk her to the chair. He sat, patted his lap. Again she hesitated, warily eyeing the lengthy hose in his pantsleg. He tugged. She came slowly down, avoiding his harden, gingerly setting her plump buttocks low on one thigh.
It would demand a bit of persuasion, thought Steve. Like Betty the first time. All the young ones, virgin or not, were frightened by the prospect of a grown man, a prick that was stiffer and bigger, more experienced, than a boy's knobby tool. But that was no problem. When it came to fucking, the more work involved, the more fore-play, the better the end result. He let the hand holding hers come to rest on the inside of one fleshy young thigh. He drew a last puff of smoke, crushed his cigarette out in the ashtray on the end table beside the chair. Grinning into the girl's half-frightened, half-curious face, he asked, "You ever go all the way with that boyfriend of yours? Fucking? You ever let him do more then take off your top and suck on your titties?"
Debbie's cheeks turned first pink, then red, then deep, burning scarlet. She looked away from his hot searching eyes, shifted from buttock to buttock as if the questions had set an army of ants going inside her pants. Cutely, she balked, "How come you wanna know about stuff like that?"
"Because I'm the man Lori told you about. Fucking. Me and her. All summer."
The girl met his gaze. Her eyes went as wide as half-dollars. Her chin dropped. Her nose crinkled up, the nostrils turning out at each side like the petals of a delicate flower. The hand, lost to the wrist in his, turned, tried to wiggle free of his fingers.
Steve stared hungrily at the points of her tits, thinking how white they would be, how pink of nipple, good to suck. He held fast to the hand squirming in his, moved it close to her cunt, and let the girl's fingertips, his own, brush the place where the skintight hip-huggers outlined a puffy slit so tiny and sweet he was certain he'd never get his long bloated cock in. He could almost hear her crying out in pain at the first mighty lunge ... thighs atremble ... plump little ass - bucking. He could imagine himself gritting his teeth, forcing the bloated meat in, in spite the impossible tightness. "Jesus H. fucking Christ," he hissed, so engrossed in the vision his prick sprang up like a tree trunk and threatened to pop.
"You let me go!" yelped Debbie, gaze riveted to the fat bulge in his lap.
"Lori likes best to suck it. You ever suck one? A cock? Your boyfriend's? You let him come in your mouth?"
Again the girl's nose crinkled up. "No-ow!"
"Then we'll have to put it up here!" He released her hand, rammed his own hand into her crotch and wrapped his free arm around her hourglass waist. "Up your pussy. I bet you got a nice one. Christ! I bet it's already all fucking wet, you just thinking about a dick up there."
"It's not. No. I ... I ... let me goooooo!" The girl's tiny fingers clawed at the hand working her sex. Rubbing. Making her squirm. She tried to rise, but the arm at her waist held fast, Steve coaxing her close to the bulge. "I'll tell!" she sobbed. "I'll ... oh! Oh, s-s-stop that. I ... ummmmmmmmmm! No! Owah! I ... I'll t-t-tell my father when he comes home. I ... I will!"
Steve grunted cruel laughter, making light of the threat. "You won't tell, baby. If you do, then you'll have to tell about the boy in the car. How he sucked your tits. Maybe that's it, huh? Maybe you want old Uncle Steve to suck your nipples up hard before you give him some pussy." He nuzzled her breasts through the crop top, nipped the tips. He had her, he knew. He could feel it in the way her pubic mound swelled beneath his caresses, the way her hips jerked when he flattened his stinkfinger at the tight slit and pressed.
"No-owww!" whispered. Debbie unconvincingly. "The baby. He ... he'll wake up."
"Fuck the baby!"
"Hummm!"
"Tell me about your boyfriend." Steve tugged at her waist, drew her close. He made her rest her small head at his shoulder. "Tell me about how you screwed in the car," he urged. "How the boy sucked on your tits and what you did for him. Tell me, sweetheart. Be nice to old Uncle Steve."
The girl whimpered. Her fingers stopped wrestling his wrist, tiny hands quiet atop the one steadily stroking her hot little wedge through the hip-huggers. Her breathing grew labored. "His name is Jimmy," she said finally, in a voice so low Steve wasn't sure she'd spoken until she went on. "Jimmy Lutz. He ... he plays football for our school team. I always liked him. But he never paid any attention to me till this year. When ... when my titties got big. An' my ass. He ... I used to catch him looking at me back there when I walked down the hall. He wanted to do me, I knew-all the boys did. Some I let feel me up ... in class ... in the movies. Only Jimmy I wanted to tease because it took him so long to notice I was a girl. With ... with a pussy an' all." She shifted, spread her young thighs for Steve's probing fingers. She lifted one hip for the bulge.
Quickly, before she could revaluate and maybe protest again, but gently, so as not to frighten her by the awesome size, the steely stiffness, Steve shimmied down in the seat and centered his prick in the crack of her delectable little-girl ass. He felt her soft cheeks spread at either side of the shaft, felt the heat of her. He groaned. The hand at her waist moved slowly up, under the hem of the crop top to one succulent tit. "Then you let him suck this," he croaked, taunting the rubbery nipple, prompting her to continue.
"Ummm." She leaned into his hand, conical breast flattening against his kneading fingers.
"Tell me," he urged her.
"In school at first. He ... he got me in the cloak room after class. 'I been watchin' you' he said. 'Them tits. Wow! That ass!' I ... I made believe I didn't want him to feel me. 'You're just a dumb football nut,' I told him., 'I don't care if you are the star of the team, or if you never notice me.' I kept saying it over an' over while he felt me. Un-until he kissed me an' p-p-put his hand up my mini. On my p-p-pussy. Like ok! Iiiiiii ... I L-like you're doing now." Again she shifted, as engrossed in the tale, in remembering, as Steve had been in the vision of her fiery little pink cunthole protesting at the first furious stab of his dick. "But then someone came into the classroom, made a noise," she added. "I made him stop. Jimmy. I made him take his f-finger out of my ... my hole! But he wouldn't until I felt him too, squeezed his hard thing, an' promised to meet him after supper an' do it again."
The juice from her cunt had soaked through the crotch of the hip-huggers. Steve lifted his hand, sniffed. "Jesus!" The scent was like expensive perfume; a guaranteed man-getter.
Debbie whimpered. She closed and opened her legs, closed and opened ... squeezing the halves of her cunt together ... using the fleshy part of her thighs to take up the massage where his hand had left off. She didn't resist when his fingers traced the waistband of the hip-huggers, Steve hunting the zipper. Nor did she protest when he found the brass links and opened the breach at her side.
"Then the car," Steve breathed in her shell-like pink ear.
"Yesssssssss!" Again Debbie opened wide for his probing fingers; gulped when he pushed the hip-huggers and panties, down, bared her to mid-thigh, and sought the mouth of her tight- so hot and tight Steve thought he would die from the mere touch-black-brown and curly-haired pussy. "Jimmy parked," she said, voice high-pitched, rising to match the frenzy he caused at her cuntlips. "I ... almost before I could turn in the seat, he had my top off an' was sucking. My tits. Like ... like baby does Mummy. I ... I was scared at first. I ... I was cherry. But then he made me touch him again, hold his ... his hard thing! Um! I ... I forgot all about what I'd heard about it hurting the first time an' all. I didn't care if it hurt something awful. I wanted ... I ... I ... oh! J-J-Jimmy made me lie down on the seat, sucked my nipples an' took my pants off. All the time making me hold him, his ... his big cock! Hummm! Until he had me undressed, had it out, an' I felt it down there-ere!" She pumped her hips frantically onto Steve's fingers, taking all four to the hilt-up her once-removed virgin cunthole.
"Hold mine," said Steve. "Like you did for Jimmy in the car. Take it out for me, sweetheart." He undid the curls at the back of her head, threw the curlers to the floor. He turned her face toward him. "Kiss old Uncle Steve and take it out. Then we'll screw. Big? Jimmy's only a kid, like Lori told you. Uncle Steve'll show you what a real dick is, what it's like to be fucked by a man!"
Breathing in short gasps, eyes glazed, Debbie complied. She puckered her lips-moist pink fruit, the lower lip a full grape, the upper atremble-opened to accept his tongue and groped at the front of his pants. Her hand shook. The zipper stuck halfway down. She tugged mightily, surprising Steve by the sudden burst of strength that left the material shredded along one side of the stubborn brass links. Her fingers shot into the opening, into the fly of the shorts.
"Ah! Ah! Ahah, ummmmmmm!" she blurted as his long veiny dick leaped into the cool palm of her hand.
Steve tore at the hip-huggers and panties, yanked them down and off her smooth legs. While she stroked his stiff joint, making it jump like a pogo stick, working the loose outer jacket of skin down and back, down and back, down and back, he undid his belt and the one button at his waist. He made her raise up, made her relinquish her greedy hold for the moment it took to rid himself of the pants and underwear. "Take off my shirt," he said gruffly into her mouth. And while she complied, undoing the buttons with one hand, jerking his need with the other, he lifted the crop top, and somehow-he didn't know how, couldn't say afterward-got her arms raised one at a time, got the thing off and had the lovely young girl, almost as lovely as Lori, naked in his lap. All except shoes. Her flats and his loafers and socks. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that his dick was free of encumbrance, and the girl, thighs wide, whacking him off in the space between, up-down, up-down close to her little-girl pussy, was dripping hot goo down his balls, ready to take him.
Holding the kiss, sucking her tongue, thinking how good she would be as a blowjob but too close to coming to prolong penetration, he made Debbie turn in his lap, raise her knees. He guided her legs astraddle the arms of the chair, fiery cunthole suspended a mere inch above the angry red knob of his rod. He gripped one satiny buttock, fingers deep in the split up her backside, one dart sunk in her asshole, steered her hand to his thumping balls, took hold of the shaft of his manhood and set the tip of her livery slit.
"Ohah! Oh! OHHHHHHHHHH!" Debbie threw her head back when he thrust.
"Easy, baby," he gasped. "Ah! Oh, God! Christ!" He set the knob firmly, gripped the other cheek of her ass, preventing escape. "Fuck with me," he directed. "Open ahhhhh! OH! Work your cunt muscles for Uncle Steve. Come down when I pump."
"I can't. It ... it hurts! I ... I ... "
He fucked his hips brutally upward again, planted his dick halfway in her hot little hole. Dizzy with the tight wetness of her, a fit so good, so perfectly matched-cunt to full-grown cock -that not a hair could be wedged in at either side, he was certain, he watched her firm titties bounce; he watched her expression go from pleasure to pain, back to uncertain pleasure, and wished he'd brought Lori along. He thought again of the orgy he'd planned; of Midge, Jan-ice, and Viv, Lyn and Betty. He held fast to the girl's quivering ass, drove another hard inch up her belly and imagined how good it would be to partake of two cunts at once. Or three. Or four. He envisioned himself surrounded by sopping wet pussies, fingers and tongue and rod working in unison ... hands cupped at two willing crotches ... mouth loving another ... insatiable cock buried right where it was. He barely heard the girl's moans, was aware only of the wonder of fucking his meat up a gash so delightfully tiny, so adorably tight, that it was like trying to force a size small rubber glove onto the business end of a baseball bat.
"Oh-ho-ow. Ow. OHAH! It ... it's t-t-too big!" Debbie gripped the arms of the chair and lifted, trying to work herself up off the relentless stake.
"Sit ... amhhhhhh! AH! Sit fucking still!" He moved his hands to her waist, squeezed. The girl gasped. He squeezed harder. Harder still. Until the resistance lessened and the inner walls of her luscious vagina accepted the spike ... sucking him in while he watched ... drawing ... nipping ... tugging him up, up. Until the black-brown curls of her pussy were flush with his balls.
Whimpering, Debbie glanced down at the spectacle as if trying to convince herself the deed was actually done. Tentatively she let go of the arms of the chair. She slipped lower, the soft, creamy white halves of her teenage baby-doll bottom coming to rest full on his thighs. "Ow. Ow-wow." Her lush little pussy pulsed on the cylindrical monster. "Hummmmm!" She stared incredulously into Steve's face.
"Should I stop?" he taunted.
"Uh ... uh-UH!"
He smiled triumphantly. One hand returned to her bottom, found the crack, and traced it down to her gaped open asshole. His stinkfinger burrowed, made her leap up and settle back slowly on the meat throbbing like a toothache at the depths of her sheath. His free hand captured one tit. He lowered his lips to the taut nipple. Encircling the bud with thumb and forefinger, he sucked the pinkness greedily into his mouth, said, "Tell old Uncle Steve what you want, honey. Say, 'Do it, .Uncle Steve. Fuck in and out of Debbie's pussy.' "
"I want ... I ... I ... "
He lifted with the finger high in her chute, let her down again. She made the sound of a small injured bird. He lifted again, wanting to slam his cock furiously in and out of the tightness, to abuse her remaining innocence and make her cry out for more, but prolonging it now, wanting more to bend her completely to his will. "Say it," he prompted. "Say, 'I want you to fuck out my cunthole and shoot your hot cream up my little-girl belly.' "
He watched the struggle in her eyes, the confusion on her flushed young face. She was still virgin enough to find the dirty words abhorrent; her mind hadn't yet caught up to her body, he could see. A small voice inside her said no! I won't say it. I won't! But her body, the velveteen sheath gripped his prick like a pro, the breast in his face, the fragrant brown pocket nipping his finger, all belonged to a woman whose gyrations said yes! Fuck me good!
"But you're not ow! Owah, J-J-Jimmy's was-wasn't as long. Ummm! Oh! You ... you're n-not my uncle at all," she blubbered at last. "How ow-wow! H-how c-c-come I have to say all those awful things?"
"Say it," demanded Steve.
The girl thrashed. Her tiny hands gripped his broad shoulders, fingernails biting deep in his flesh. She leaned back from the waist, thrusted her lovely pink and white tits in his face. She mashed her hot little cunt down on the roots of his tool, breathed, "Fuck me, Uncle Steve. Fuck out ... oh! Ummm! F-fuck out my pussy an' shoot your cream up my b-b-belly."
"That's better," sighed Steve. "Now put your feet up on the arms of the chair. Knees high, sweetheart. Legs wide. As wide as they'll go. Old Uncle Steve's gonna show you what a real fuck is. Like nothin' you ever imagined. You'll be able to feel me, this-" he expanded and contracted the knob of his sex, made her yelp in delight-"my big prick, in your throat. At the top of your sweet fuckin' head even."
Feverishly, Debbie followed his directions, raised first one foot than the other. Her trim legs formed a wide V that began at his shoulders and ended at the place where his hard-on protruded from her hot hairy hole. "L-like this?"
"Christ, yeah. Perfect! Now fuck, honey. Wiggle your ass. Use your feet to lift up and come down. Up and down, up and down. Go!"
Holding fast to his shoulders, Debbie performed the awkward gymnastic. She raised up, all the time watching the stiffness slip wetly from her delectable bush; then, just as Steve thought sure they would lose the connection, just as the rolled back skin at the neck of the glans of his manhood appeared, she dropped ... taking him smoothly back in to the hilt ... moaning as her buttocks settled atop his muscular thighs once more.
It was Steve's turn to gulp. The girl was a natural-a cunt that could drive a man crazy after only two screws. He wished he'd gotten back a day earlier; that he, not Jimmy whoever-he-was, had taken her cherry. He stared down at her kinky scruff. It wasn't quite wiry yet, still growing and almost as soft as the hair on her head. He watched her creamy thighs tremble; watched the round underside of her ass, the satiny buttocks, open and close in time with her nipping young pussy. He felt her feathery inner cunt muscles clamp tight on the tip of his tool, then loosen as she lifted again, then tighten as she came down. He groaned. He set his own hips in motion, swinging from side to side in the chair, slamming it to her each time she dropped. "Hold tight," he cautioned. "Keep ... ah! Christ, that's good. Yeah! Keep doin' just like you're doin', but hold on as if I'm a bronc and you're ridin' in a rodeo."
Brutally, he drove his rod up her little-girl belly. Again he took hold of the halves of her ass, guiding her inexperienced movements, teaching her the art of dipping onto a cock. Momentarily he wondered where Lori was, if she was fucking. He wondered too how he was going to resolve the dilemma at home; if he would ever be able to convince Midge that fucking was something everyone did, every day, and that it didn't much matter who the fucking was done with ... what it had taken him almost a lifetime to learn.
"It ... it feels as if liiiiiiiii ... !" Debbie quivered from head to toe, squirmed sweetly in his lap. "As if I ... ummmmmmmm! Some ... ow! Ee! S-s-some-something's hap-happening, Steve. Ow! Inside. I ... ohhhHHHHHHHH! I'm on fire. In ... in my p-p-pussy. Wha , ... ? oh! OW! Wha's hap-hap-pen-ing to me-eee?"
Motherfucker! thought Steve, dismissing all but the trembling girl from his mind. She was coming. He could feel it- in the hungry contractions of her tight little pussy, the bite of her cuntlips. It was incredible; she was coming and didn't know what the sensation meant. Jimmy whoever-he-was had taken her maidenhead, but had left the best part. Her first orgasm. The incomparable thrill of watching her face contort in utter surrender. Like with Betty. And with Lori the first time he planted cum in her mouth. And with Midge long ago. There was nothing more delicious than being the man who induced the thrill that would come again and again in her lifetime, but would never be quite the same as the first time.
The mere thought made him pop prematurely. But on time for the girl. At the exact moment her cunthole went wild, locked tight on his prick and spewed gooey love juice down his fat hairy balls.
Debbie yelled something garbled. Her head dropped, lolled from her neck. Her ass bounced erratically. "Fuck my pus-seee," she wailed. "Ugh! Fuck! Ugh! Fuck, fuck, fuck me, Steve. Oh. OHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
He had no intention of stopping, he wanted to say. But the cumload had taken his breath, his voice. The exquisite thrill of another young gash, the conquest, the fact that he was the first to make her give of herself completely, was a hammer inside his chest, a nutcracker pinching his balls. Groaning, he fucked. He fucked for all he was worth, pissing gob after gob of thick semen up her hole. He had no intention of stopping, because he couldn't forget the sweet warmth of her mouth-where he would put his dick next, while he had her. And the bite of her hot little-girl asshole, where, if there was time, if there was enough gook left in his sacs after the initial entries were conquered, he intended to plant a third cumload before going home.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Fall in the city was the best time of year. The oppressive summer heat was gone, and the trees, majestically shedding their hairdos of green, were the bright colors of the outfits the neighborhood girls wore to school. The sky too seemed different; dawn came later, and sunset, the time of day Steve liked best, arrived with reds that were warmer because of the breeze; with ambers that hung above the horizon, as if suspended from clouds that were white blankets hugging the onrushing night.
The new job was a bore. After twenty years of the military, Steve simply couldn't adjust to the carefree, 9 to 5 lifestyle. Each day he came home from work restless, looking forward only to what new adventures Lori and her seemingly endless stream of hot little friends could supply.
It was weeks after the evening with Debbie before he and Midge finally talked. She was at the sink when he stepped into the kitchen, bending forward, the hem of her dress high at the back of her thighs, waist accentuated. He paused at the door. At work there were willing secretaries, stenographers and comely girl Fridays the entire executive staff was getting to. Midge was private stock. He knew, although they hadn't been sleeping together much since they got back from vacation, although he'd been neglecting her because of Debbie, Lori, and the other minxes that ran in and out of the house, Midge was just prude enough to be saving it-as if she were a virgin and sex was something a girl did only with hubby. It was the one thing about her he adored; the fact that he was the only man ever to have sampled the golden fleece atop and between her still delectable thighs.
"Who ... ?" Midge spun at the touch of his hand on the cheek of her ass.
He pressed her back against the drain board, kissing her before she could speak. She didn't respond. He felt her tit. She merely submitted, as limp in his arms as the washcloth she held in her hand. "Supper is almos ... " she began when the kiss ended.
"Fuck supper," growled Steve, nuzzling her neck, trying to work her nipples hard with his fingers. "We haven't made love in a week. Let's go to bed. I'll eat you and you can eat me."
Midge pushed him away. She moved from the sink to the table, busied herself with the place settings. She glanced warily up when he pursued, said, "Don't. I ... I don't want to. I ... you know why without me having to say it." She stared defiantly, daring him to deny the unspoken accusation.
It was still there, a little brick wall named Lori. The girl had grown brazen since their return home, and he, wanting to console Midge, to carry through with his plan, but wanting the girl more, unable to conceal his desire, had let the wall grow. Now he was faced with the challenge of making it right. He moved slowly around the table, backed her into a corner. He was determined to get it out and settled once and for all.
"No teenage girl friends today?" Midge spit, suddenly angrier than he had ever before seen her. Her chin trembled. Her hands became hard little fists at her sides. "Wait awhile," she added in a quivering voice. "Lori'll be home soon. Then you can ... you and she ... "
Steve gripped her shoulders. He studied her flushed face a moment, trying to decide the best line of attack. But he had already determined the strategy, he reminded himself. Surprise. Shock her into submission. It would hurt her at first, he knew, probably send her rushing off to her mother's place for a few days. But she would come back, he knew too. And once the ultimatum was there-either accept the unalterable or leave him for good-Midge would be rid of her self-righteous tears, the barriers would crumble, and there would be nothing but wondrous lovemaking; Midge and Lori and him, and whoever else they could entice into their communal bed.
Again he pressed close, rubbed his limp cock suggestively against her soft thigh. "Stop acting like Lori's maiden aunt," he told her. "This is 1973, not twenty years ago when we were kids. Lori knows it. She told me! All the kids-Debbie, the others Lori brings home-are enjoying what we were too stupid to do at their age. Sex makes the world go round, Midge. Me and Lori ... well, she's a lot like you were when we first met. So what if ... "
He paused, searching for the right words. But there was only one way to say it. Bluntly. Like a fist in the gut. Then he could take it from there, soothe the hurt. "So fucking what if she's sucking my cock!" he blurted. "It won't hurt 'er. She'll grow up and get married some day like it never happened, and no one's complaining 'cept you." Again he paused, gauging the flash of disgust in her eyes. She'd known all along, but having it put into words seemed to scald her, to leave her red-faced and stunned. "I know lots of guys who're banging their kids," he lied. "And lots more who'd like to. Al Watson for one. You think he don't look at Debbie? Well, do you? The only difference between me and the ones who only look is that I'm a man. I take what I want."
Midge gasped from the hand that shot beneath the hem of the housedress to her crotch. She started to protest, shook her head, and clamped her lips shut. There was nothing to say-both of them knew it. Steve had changed: he was no longer the quiet, safe, one-woman man she'd been married to for so many years. Now it was her turn to choose.
"Right now I want you, Midge," he continued, massaging her pussy with the palm of his hand. "You're still my wife, unless you want that to change too. If you don't, if you still love me, you'll just have to get used to things the way they are." He found the legband of the panties, fucked a finger up her hot cunt. His dick began to grow hard. It was funny, he thought-lately he surprised even himself. A mere few months ago he wouldn't have been capable of the speech he'd just made.
Midge sobbed-half protest, half acceptance of what he was doing. She leaned back against the cool kitchen wall, arms limp at her sides, allowed him to dig deep in her pussy. Her eyes closed. Her hips jerked as he found her small clit, fingered it stiff. It had been a long time, a week, and although her mind was in obvious revolt against what he'd told her, her body needed a man, Steve could see. Her cunthole had no objections to him and Lori, him and Debbie, him and the others. What she would do afterward was anyone's guess, but for now her breathing grew shallow, her breasts heaved. For the moment her loins were willing to overlook all but the pole in his pantsleg.
"We haven't done it like this in years." Steve lifted the hem of the dress, tucked it into the apron belt at her waist. "Standing up. Remember, honey? 'Way back when we were first married, you thought I was nuts when I asked you to do it this way. We used to fuck all over the place ... in the shower ... on the goddam floor. It was good then. Like it is with me and Lori when she sucks me off." Stinkfinger moving slowly in and out of her gash, wetting her, making her ready, he worked the panties down, bared her white-blonde wedge. It was still a precious sight, and almost as soft as Lori's little-girl scruff, almost as fragrant.
"Steve." Midge raised her arms, clung to his neck. Her hips bucked again when his finger slipped out long enough for the panties to be pushed low on her thighs, then her cunthole accepted him back, greedily sucking the dart.
Using his knee, Steve pushed the panties down past her dimpled knees. The nylon slithered of its own accord to her ankles. "Kick the fuckin' things off," he whispered against her moist lips.
Midge obeyed. The panties went slithering across the floor, wrapped themselves around a chair leg. Whole she opened her legs, spread herself, he undid his fly, took out his long veiny rod. It throbbed in his hand. Standing up-Christ! He hadn't fucked anyone that way since one of the few times he'd cheated on Midge while stationed in Europe. In Paris, a raven-haired French girl. A pickup who had lured him into an alley, had held up her hand with five fingers splayed, naming the price, and then, once it was in, buried to the hilt up her midnight-black bush, had moaned sexy French words in his ear till he popped. He undid his belt, let the pants drop to his ankles. He pushed his shorts down, stepped out of the garments, and kicked them after the panties. Remembering how good the Parisian whore was, how good it had been with Midge through the first years of their marriage, he removed his wet fingers and set the bloated tip of his joint at her pulsing cunthole.
Midge moaned. The sound came from deep within her-the sound of a woman giving herself completely to her man. Her hips jerked forward and down, drawing the red knob of his dick up her belly. She sat in the cradle provided by his hands, sucked air through her teeth as he began to hump the rest of it in.
It had been worth waiting years for, thought Steve; her sheath was as hot as a furnace, and the awkward position made it tighter-as close as Debbie's sweet cunt. He gripped the plump, mature cheeks of her ass, mentally comparing the melons to Lori's and the Watson girl's. Each had a special quality, he decided. The young ones were firmer, less quivery, yet somehow softer, the cracks illicitly alluring. But there was more hair at Midge's pinched anus, the wispy stuff growing under her crotch and around into her pussy. And Midge's movements were more direct, more experienced. He couldn't decide which was best, didn't know if it mattered. He knew only that variety was great, and that Midge, despite her initial reluctance, was fucking like never before ... gyrating furiously ... gasping his name ... grinding herself, her white-blonde pussy, onto his rod.
"Put your legs up," he directed. "At my ... umph!" His knees trembled, threatening to give from the delicious sensations racing through his loins. He planted his feet farther apart, leaned in to her. "At ... at my waist, babe. Like ... ah! UMMMmmmmmmmmmmm! Like we used to, 'way back when."
One leg shot quickly into position. Wheezing, Midge chewed her lower lip, rested her weight full in his hands. Using the wall as a brace, she brought the other leg up, hooked her ankles, and purred softly as his cock slid farther up the livery folds of her nipping vagina.
Steve kissed her. Driving his tongue into her mouth, he began to screw. In-out, in-out his dick slipped. The ass in his hands rocked rhythmically from side to side, round and round. Eagerly Midge sucked his tongue, as if expecting the cum to spurt there. As if, at that special moment, if he yanked his meat out and directed her to her knees, she'd give him the blowjob she had always denied him before. He lifted her hips, glanced down to watch the slippery length of hard meat pull back from her blonde pussy curls. He let her drop, groaned as the stiffness disappeared up her belly once more. The whole room seemed to shake with their gyrations, the house. He fucked faster. Harder. He mashed his mouth to hers, made her lips swell. He drove his rod in to the roots, pulled back to the glans, and fucked it, fucked it, fucked it into and out of and again into her sopping wet cunthole.
They were too intent on the impending orgasm to hear the front hall door open and close, or the whisper of footsteps on the living room rug. Steve wouldn't have heard an elephant enter the kitchen, and Midge was breathing so loudly, so laboriously, that the elephant might have trumpeted without recognition. The first hint of an unwanted audience was the giggle that fell like the tinkle of bells on Steve's ear.
"Boy!" exclaimed Lori. She eyed her mother speculatively, grinned. "You don't do it much, Mom, but when you do you sure don't fucking fool around."
Midge gurgled something unintelligible. Her face went lobster red. Her legs dropped from Steve's waist. Before he could utter a word, she was off him, standing, frantically straightening her dress, hiding her shame.
"You forgot something." Lori pointed to the panties wrapped around the chair leg.
Steve laughed, disappointed by the interruption, but glad it was out at last. The family triangle; mother and daughter at odds because both wanted the thing standing straight out from his cockhair. He watched Midge start for the archway where Lori stood, stop. She looked from the girl to him. She sobbed. Then she ran to the outside kitchen door, threw it open and rushed out of the house.
"What the fuck ... ?" Steve snatched his pants off the floor, thrust one leg in and was lifting the other when an engine roared in the drive. By the time he got to the door, Midge was backing the car onto the street. He called. She glanced back once, set the car in gear, and was gone.
Innocently, Lori asked, "Did my coming in cause all that, Daddy?"
Steve faced her, scratched his head. Lori was grinning uncertainly now, her gaze on the rapidly diminishing thing protruding from the open fly of his pants. Midge was off to her mother's place, he knew. Either there or the deserted summer home. He couldn't make himself feel upset over her sudden departure. He hadn't planned it exactly this way, but it was done, the truth out for an airing, the three of them face to face with sex. The problem would either work itself out or blow up in his face.
But there was a more immediate problem which needed solving. It had to do with the cool air shrinking his rod like an overcooked hot dog. His nuts still ached, the cumload hovering somewhere between the wrinkled contraptions and the roots of his smoldering tool. He closed the door, returned to the table. He eyed the skirt Lori was wearing. The hem, barely reaching the top of her thighs, was more enticing than nakedness. He looked into her face, at her pink mouth. "I told your mother about us," he said gruffly.
The girl set her school books down on the table, stepped close. "Then why'd she run when I came in?"
He shrugged. "Who fucking knows why women're women? Especially you and your mother. I told her she'd have to get used to the idea-me, you, and her or nothing. Now we'll just have to wait and see what happens, what she does."
Lori cocked her head, stared thoughtfully at the panties lying forlornly on the tile floor. She squeezed her knees tightly together. Her hand shot forward, clutched his wet limpish prick. "Know what, Daddy?" she whispered.
Steve pulled her into his arms, looked longingly at the spot where Midge had stood propped against the wall moments before. "What's on your mind, baby? "
"I never did it standing up."
"No?" His heart leaped.
"Uh-uh. An' you never, ever did it to me, the right way. Up ... up here!" She took hold of his wrist, steered his hand to the pussy he had seen and touched, sniffed and licked, eaten and fingered, but had been reluctant to plow.
He felt her small hand on his cock, jerking it back to its former state of arousal. He felt the springy curls beneath her panties, the dampness and heat where the nylon was sunk in her slit. His reluctance seemed suddenly silly-incest meant nothing. He wanted her cunt; he wanted to stand her in the same spot where Midge had stood, take her in the same way. Compare. Watch her white-blonde daughter-pussy come down the length of his insatiable tool.
"Daddy?"
She didn't have to say more. Their problem was solved; Lori had never had any compunctions about doing whatever kinky sex thing he desired, and now he felt the same. Midge was the only one with a problem to solve. Later they would talk about that-him and Lori. Now there was time only for the hot cunt grinding itself onto his fingers.
CHAPTER NINE
Steve began to worry when, by the end of the week, Midge hadn't returned, hadn't called. He stared at the phone, as if by sheer will he could make the thing ring. But he had stared at it most of the night and now it was morning, Saturday, and Lori and Debbie had talked him into a surprise party for Peggy, a friend who, to hear the girls tell it, came from a family too poor to be able to afford a birthday cake. Steve stretched. "How the fuck can a guy refuse something like that?" he grumbled.
He lit a cigarette, coughed, inhaled again and fell back onto the pillows. Lori had said Peggy was voted "the prettiest girl in class" the previous year, that she was blonde, hair the color of straw, and that sixteen was a girl's special time. He had to agree. Midge had been exactly sixteen when they met. It was the time when a girl began to see herself as a woman, he knew, the time when she began to look out at the world, at men, with the eyes of a potential mate. Older women screwed for the enjoyment, or to make babies, and younger women primarily to satisfy their female curiosity. But at sixteen girls fucked because everything-their bodies, their minds, the sex orientated culture that pretended to worship virginity and taunted them with what was in store when they met the right man-urged them to become what nature had designed them to be. A cunt. The second half of a team. The receptacle for the thick cream in a stiff cock.
He lay smoking and thinking until Lori came in. They exchanged grins. He watched her saunter barefoot across the room, flop beside him on the bed on her tummy. The shorty pajama top bunched at her waist. She had discarded the pajama bottoms the night Midge left, and now, with him sporting the usual piss-hardon, her cute pink ass, the cleft more alluring than ever, lay a whisper away from his fingers.
"I've got it all planned," she informed him, chin propped in her hands and a sober expression on her freshly washed face. "We'll tell Peggy we're coming here to do our homework for Monday, and then, when we come in-" she paused to scratch the hair low on her belly, made a face that said ouch! "You'll have the lights out, Daddy, and the rest of the kids'll be waiting. And when we come in you'll turn the lights on and the gang'll yell surprise!" She rolled gleefully onto her back, raised one knee and threw her arms wide. "Boy! I'll bet Peggy'll absolutely flip!"
Steve eyed her blonde wedge. He was about to "flip" himself. "Does she, ah ... I Does your girl friend Peggy fuck much?"
"Daddy!" Lori stared reprehensibly back over her sleep-muddled hair at him. Then she giggled, rolled onto her belly again and cuddled close.
He listened intently as she told about the few boys Peggy had dated, but admitted that none of the girls-not her, not Debbie, not no one-knew if the sixteen-year-old put out. Peggy was shy, she said. Although sweet to everyone, the girl was a loner because all her friends could afford new dresses while she had to wear the same old things day after day. It made Steve feel almost rotten about what he was thinking; perhaps he'd buy poor little Peggy a new dress, present it to her in the bedroom, and suggest she try it on. It was the least he could do, and his dick grew harder the more he thought about it.
"Uh-uh. Not this morning," objected Lori when his hand came down on her plump ass. She twisted away, leaped from the bed and ran to the door in a flash. She stopped with one hand high on the jamb, the light from the living room windows outlining her figure beneath the flimsy pajama top.
"Come back here," he growled.
She stuck her tongue out. "I have to get dressed, then go buy the stuff for the party and get all the kids together." She started to leave, stopped again. "I been thinking, Daddy," she added, the sober expression back on her baby-doll face. "I used to be jealous-about you and Debbie 'n' all. No more, though. I figure if I can do it with whoever I want, so can you." She smiled her sweetest smile, waved, then was gone down the hall.
Steve coughed, crushed out his cigarette and lit another. He was a lucky guy, he mused. Lori was perfect-in bed, and now in her reasonable outlook. Both of them had come a long way since the night she fell asleep on the sofa at the summer home, and he, all the time reprimanding himself for his incestuous desire, first felt the heat of her pussy, and grazed the soft lips of her cunt with the tip of his cock.
He sighed. He still had to piss. But he remembered another morning, the first time with Lyn Anderson, when he fucked for over an hour with a swollen bladder and would have continued through most of the day if they hadn't heard Stu's car crunching into the sand-pebble drive.
He settled back into the pillows, content to wile away the morning with sexy imaginings of the surprise birthday party; a houseful of young cunt. But he wished Midge were there too; he wished she could think as rationally as Lori and would come back from wherever in hell she'd gone to hide from the unalterable truth.
By the time the kids arrived-Lori and Debbie, six other girls and eight pimply-faced boys -and Rudy agreed to chauffeur the escort to the place where Peggy was waiting, Steve had put Midge from his mind and was concentrating on the business at hand. He felt awkward, almost old, watching the noisy teenagers grind through their tribal dances, but there were two in the bunch whom he "knew" and who made it a point to shake their stuff his way. He sat at the edge of the sofa, sipping beer, his gaze leaping from one saucy rump to another, wondering when the kissing games were going to start and hoping Peggy what's-her-name arrived without a boy to keep her warm when things really got going.
It was night when the goose-horn on Rudy's hot rod finally blasted, and the kids, already coached by Lori, doused the lights, took up assigned positions, and hissed shhhhh! He heard the car brake at the curb in front of the house, the souped-up engine roar before dying. He moved to the light switch at the door.
"Hi, Steve." A hand gently brushed his limp cock.
"Jesus! Who're you?" He reached out in the dark, felt a small tit, heard a muted giggle. Ginny, the brunette with a cunt as big as a sewer, but with a greedy mouth to make up for the deficit. She had somehow gotten away from the boy who, while they danced, had made no secret of their intimate relationship. Now Steve's hands took the tour ... feeling up and down ... reacquainting himself with the willing terrain.
The door burst suddenly open, the three conspirators and the birthday girl forming silhouettes framed by moonlight. Steve had only a moment to look Peggy up and down before the kids, in one deafening voice, yelled surprise!
The living room became a tangle of noisy confusion, the lights and stereo coming on, those at the door pushing Peggy into the waiting arms of her friends. It was pleasant. So much so Steve forgot about sex for a moment and enjoyed the look of astonishment in the girl's huge blue eyes. Until one of the boys took advantage of the crowd to rub himself, his pants front, against Peggy's ass, and the birthday girl smiled uncertainly back at him.
"Let's get the party going," one of the youngsters suggested impatiently. "Cut the cake."
"Naw!" objected the boy who had gotten the cheap thrill. "You don't cut the cake 'til later. Now we ... "
The others whisked the girl away, to where the presents were stacked atop an end table, and Peggy spent the next ten minutes saying oh and ah and thanking the group. Then the dancing resumed, one couple at a time, until the birthday girl stood alone ... smiling uncertainly at the tribal gyrations ... tall ... willowy ... happy but obviously uneasy.
Kids! thought Steve. Even Lori had all but forgotten her friends, was intently wiggling her hips and flailing her arms to the music. Quickly he crossed the room, indignant over the way the others were acting, and using his indignation, pretended parental concern, to get close enough to see for himself if Peggy really ,,as the prettiest girl in the class. He was halfway there when he decided she was. The prettiest and more. Shy and lovely, dressed in an outfit that was indeed out of style, but which she made bulge in all the right places. And legs! Long, long tapering legs. Legs he could almost feel locked tight at his waist.
"I haven't given you my present yet," he said, envisioning the neatly wrapped box at the foot of the bed in the room down the hall.
"But you ... you don't even know me," objected the girl in a musical voice - a sound that made Steve want to crush her to him.
"That's easy enough." He took her hand. "I'm Lori's old man, Steve. And you're Peggy. Now, do I get to kiss you happy birthday like everyone else?" Before she could open her mouth to object or agree, he leaned close, touched his lips gently to hers.
Peggy blushed. The blouse she wore was open to the second button. She stepped back when she saw he was looking, raised her free hand to the breach. The flush on her face spread to her slender neck, her ears. It made her long golden hair seem even brighter; not the color of straw, as Lori had said, more like the yellow flame of fire. But it was too early to give her the gift and what he had planned to go with it, Steve could see. The others kids weren't subdued yet; hadn't yet begun tapping the beer supply in the kitchen. And Peggy would need more persuading than the others, he could see, too.
"Would you like something? A sandwich? The cake?"
"I ... I ate something before ... "
He grinned, held up his hand. "Leave it to me. Lori'll tell you-I'm one of the gang aroun' here."
Reluctantly, he released her long slender fingers, strode across the room to the kitchen. He was back in a moment with two cans of cold beer. The others watched him pass, the boys greedily licking their lips, the girls, those he hadn't bedded, cocking their heads curiously. Lori winked. Debbie crinkled her nose. "Okay. Okay already!" he shouted, certain Peggy wouldn't touch the stuff unless the others were drinking. "But only one can apiece. One!"
Peggy's uncertain smile grew more so. But she accepted the can, sipped politely and thanked him. They stood watching the kids race into the kitchen and back, the looks on their faces saying at last! A parent who really understood, someone who was on their side.
The beer cans never seemed to empty. Amused, recalling his own youth and similar tricks, Steve pretended not to see the two boys designated to sneak into the kitchen for refills each time a girl reached bottom. The music grew louder. Laughter, too. Then the lights began to go out-the large, overhead fixture first, then the lamps, one by one, until only two dim night lights remained at either end of the wide room, and the kids, coupled off now, only two couples still dancing--as a diversion, he wondered, designed to keep his prying eyes off the others who were finding dark corners to neck in.
He turned to Peggy, stared, intimidating her. Nervously, she tilted the can to her unpainted lips, drained the contents and hiccoughed. "Oh! I ... I d-don't drink much," she apologized softly.
Steve laughed, enchanted. He took the empty can and shoved his almost full one into her hand. Where was it he'd read about warm beer being more potent? She didn't need very much more, he could see, already she was swaying slightly on her high heels, eyes blinking, glazed. "C'mon." he said teasingly, wanting to grab and kiss her, to feel the tits he'd seen from above, the creamy melons bursting from the neck of the blouse, but holding off, waiting for the right moment. "How often do you turn sixteen? Besides, I want you to be braced when you see the present I got you."
Again the girl drank, deeper this time, as if beginning to enjoy the taste of the beer. She looked over the rim of the can, giggled.
Steve was delighted. It was the first sign of relaxation, the first indication that the girl would soon be putty in his hands. His dick began to get hard-partially from anticipation, but mostly because of what was happening in the dark around them. He could see Debbie in the armchair across the room. Apparently she liked it best astraddle a chair, the way he had put it to her at the Watson place. The boy hadn't yet gotten it in, was busy rubbing her crotch, whispering to her, kissing her, but it was only a matter of minutes until they'd be fucking. He pointed, drawing Peggy's attention to the pair. It was time. He had made up his mind to see if the birthday girl was the prettiest all over.
"Drink up, sweetheart. One more swallow." He waited for her to comply, gulp what was left from the can. He took the empty, set it down beside the gifts on the end table. He took her hand, nodded toward Debbie. "We're in the way out here. Let's go see what old Uncle Steve got you for your birthday."
The light in the bedroom was harsh after the dark living room, and the wrapping on the box at the foot of the bed shone like a Christmas tree. He led the girl to it, winked when she blinked questioningly up at him. He helped her undo the ribbon, throw off the cardboard top and push back the tissue inside. Peggy gulped, ran her hands lovingly over the new dress, the heels, the purse.
"A whole outfit," said Steve, standing close, his cock coming up hard near her upthrust behind. "I got your sizes from Lori. Look underneath ... a bra ... panties. I got you the god-damndest silk drawers you ever saw."
He watched her lift the black undergarment from beneath the folds of the knit minidress, hold it up to the light. He watched the blush return to her face, this time mingled with feminine wonder, the irresistible urge to try the things on, feel the newness close to her skin, clinging luxuriously to her most secret parts. It was the way Midge reacted whenever he bought her some personal item, some female flimsiness. He touched the girl's hip. "Go on," he breathed close to her ear. "Try 'em on. Everything. I-" he almost laughed-"I promise I won't look."
"I ... hic! Oh! I d-don't know if ... if I should!"
"You want to, don't you?"
"Um!"
"Then do it. You're sixteen, a woman. You deserve something nice." He turned away, heart thumping, walked to the dresser at the far side of the bed and pretended to busy himself with Midge's trinkets. He watched her through the mirror, saw her hesitate, look from him to the presents. It was rotten of him to tempt her like this, he knew. But rottenness was part of it all; breaking down the natural female defenses. Then it got good. Good for both the man and the woman. Fucking good!
He watched Peggy sway, heard her hiccough again. He watched her fingers move tentatively to the buttons down the front of the blouse, then, slowly at first but faster as each garment fell open, she dropped the blouse, let the skirt fall, pushed the frilly half-slip down her legs and stepped free of the outer garments.
Steve groaned, clutched his cock. It throbbed like a tom-tom. In panties and bra, the girl was exquisite-white and pink and soft blonde, with shoulders so fragile and creamy, buttocks so round and deep-clefted, legs so long-all the way from the floor to her magnificent young ass, he thought. To the hair on her hot teenage cunt -he thought sure he'd come in his pants. He watched her struggle with the snaps high on her back, almost fall onto the bed. He turned, moved swiftly to her. "Let Uncle Steve help," he offered in a gravelly voice. "That's what I'm here for. To make things nice. Easy."
"No, I ... I ... "
He had the snaps open, was easing the bra from her arms before she could complete the sentence. Her white, big pink-nippled breasts tumbled from the cups, hung away from, her chest. She raised her hands to cover the delectable globes. "No. Don't hide 'em from me," he croaked. "Christ all fuckin' mighty, they're too sweet to hide. Jesus!"
"D-d-don't!" Peggy tried to brush his hands away. But the alcohol had taken affect, her movements were slow. His arms were around her, pressing her ass to the bulge of his prick, fingers working her nipples even before the protest was out of her mouth.
"Happy birthday, baby."
"NOOOoooo!" The girl's hips pumped back into his rod. "You ... ah ... ahhh. You said ... y-y-you promised you wo-wouldn't look at meeeee. You did, you ... ummmmmmmmmmm! Ah! Ow! My titties. Stop. Oh! OHHH!"
Steve kissed the back of her neck, her ear, drank deep of the clean fresh smell of her hair. His joint felt petrified. Rock-hard. Slowly he gyrated his loins, grinding the bloated length in the hot split up her backside. He swayed with her in time to the silent music of sex, the inner chords of her ripe young body fraying his nerve ends, communicating with the cumload deep in his balls. Was she cherry, he wondered, recalling what Lori had said. A cunthole that had never been pried open by the bludgeoning knob of a cock? Brand-new pussy?
He moved one hand to her belly, rubbed. His fingertips grazed the mass of curls crowning her womanhood. The girl shivered. He rubbed harder, working her nipple still, panting into her ear until she flung her head back on his shoulder and began to moan.
"Lori tells me you don't like boys," he breathed against the nape of her neck.
Peggy looked back at him with wide, hazy blue eyes. Her belly went tight, emphasizing the roundness as his fingertips moved lower, the palm of his hand cupped at her bush-a mere whisper away from the indentation where the panties were sunk in her wet cuntlips. "I ... I like boys," she said in a voice as soft as a midsummer night breeze. "I do."
The blood pounded inside his head, at his groin. He moved his thumb to her navel, hooked it at the waistband of the panties, and inched the elastic down. "And dicks!" he told her, sure of himself now, sure of her. "Tell me, honey. Tell your old Uncle Steve how much you like big veiny pricks fucking in and out of your pussy."
Peggy turned in his arms, stumbled as one high heel tipped and threw her off balance. Steve caught her by the cheeks of the ass, lifted, and pressed her to the enraged bulge in his pantsleg. Suddenly the girl was a tigress, arms locked at his neck, breath hot and sweet in his face, taut belly and hips and fat teenage pussy grinding sensuously against his hard dick, dry-fucking him. He should have known, Steve thought. It was always the shy ones, the ones who pretended to be proper and prime, reserved, cool, who were the best screws. The hottest. The wildest. He kissed her moist pouting lips, dug his fingers deep in the jiggly flesh of her ass, and pressed her back, back, until they lay over the foot of the bed, the giftbox crumpled beneath them, the girl's wide hips churning like a cement mixer.
He tore at the panties, ripped them from her bucking loins. The girl's legs gaped for his fingers. He searched through her wedge for the livery slit, found it, and shoved his stinkfinger in to the last knuckle, sinking deep into her.
Peggy twisted her lips away from his mouth, gasped, "Ohah! Oh! Oh. OWWWWWW!" Her ass shot up off the bed, cunthole sucking, milking his finger as if it were a small skinny cock about to explode.
And his cock was indeed about to explode, to burst through the links of the zipper at his fly. He had been anticipating Peggy all day; scheming, devising elaborate ploys to get her to fuck. And there she was beneath him ... taking the initiative ... reaching for the brass tong at the top of the zipper without having to be told. He raised up on outstretched arms to watch her slim fingers release him. His gaze fell on her wedge: thick blonde pussy curls, not quite as bright as the hair on her head, more brown, but with shiny gold ringlets scattered throughout. A pussy that was at once honey-colored and platinum, with whipped cream beneath, and the fleshy pink of ripe fruit where the mound dipped to the puffy gates to her inner vagina.
"Ah! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He fucked his stiff cock into the cool palm of her hand, shoved his finger so deep in her .cunt-hole the girl whined and wiggled back on the bed-not to escape, but to give him room. To get the crushed giftbox out from under her succulent ass.
Outside the bedroom, the kids began to chant and clap in time to an acid rock record someone had placed on the turntable. It was subtle at first, but soon grew loud, intense. As if one. of the girls-which one? Steve tried to guess-had grown bold, was stripping, the others the others egging her on. He listened, envisioning the scene while watching Peggy purse her pink lips as she stared as if mesmerized at the throbbing shaft in her hand. He drove his finger in and out of her vulva, slopping her up, pushing her toward the brink of orgasm, while he considered for the hundredth time the orgy that hadn't materialized. Why hadn't he thought of it before, he wondered now. The party! The perfect setting! A houseful of young cunt, with four in the living room who had felt the stab of his meat.
But for the moment there was a fifth cunt snapping beneath him, demanding attention, he reminded himself. And a mouth, a tongue that was like a small snake licking lips that were soft and warm and natural-pink without makeup. He could almost see her flushed lovely young face coming down on the knob of his rod, drawing him in, in. He kissed her again, took hold of her clit and worked it in time to the music from the living room and the hand whacking him off ... everything synchronized ... a non-rehearsed smash.
Peggy didn't resist when, gripping the tender halves of her ass, he shimmied around so they lay full length on the mattress, the crumpled box out from beneath them. Nor did she protest when he broke the kiss, and said, "The best part of your birthday present is yet to come, sweetheart. I been savin' it for you all fuckin' day."
He licked down her neck, down between her quivering, big-nippled breasts, to the tiny button in her round white belly. She shuddered when his tongue washed the lint from the pocket, and again started down, wetting the almost invisible blonde fuzz that covered her lower abdomen, led to her bush. The girl squirmed like an eel. He grinned, licked lower still. He paused at the top of the V, sniffed. It was his turn to squirm. He inched down, savoring the stink which grew stronger as he neared the hot hairy breach between her magnificent thighs. Then he was there. Suddenly. Hungrily. Mouth open over her juicy cunthole, blowing air into the sopping wet folds of her sex.
He wondered if she had ever felt the stab of a dick in her face, what she would do when he twisted around for the union of lips to crotch, lips to crotch. But she'd said she liked boys. He interpreted that to mean she liked sucking, too. Most of them did-the young ones. Sixteen, he groaned mentally. It was the time when a girl was willing to try almost anything. Not like Midge, who thought mouthing a prick was as awful as eating a turd.
He licked Peggy's pinched asshole, tasted the sour tang of her shit. Christ! He'd eat even that, he decided. He'd suck out her bowels for a taste of her twat, and to get her to blow him. He lapped both tiny ports until the girl stiffened, arched her spine, reaching for orgasm. Then he stopped and waited for her reaction.
"Ohah, Steve. Steve!" Peggy strained upward. Again she reached for his cock.
Steve pulled back, flung his legs around toward the head of the bed. "Not with your hand, sweetheart. Your mouth! A suck for a suck. Sixty-nine." He shoved his finger back up her cunt-hole to keep the orgasm building, to make certain she wouldn't resist.
"Oh, Hove it this way!"
Steve yelped in delight as the girl's moist lips closed willingly on the knob of his prick. "Motherfucker. Mother. MO-ther! And all the time I thought you were ... ah! A HHHHHHH! I thought you were fuckin' shy! Jesus! All cunts should be shy like you about sucking a cock." Rolling, spread-eagling her on the bed, him atop, he cupped his hands at the insides of her thighs, spread her wide. He glued his mouth to her wet sweetness once more.
The girl sucked with the force of a pump draining a hose. Almost before he was planted, rod deep in her face, the cumload was jacking up from his turbulent balls. He made her slow down, then he lay flat, weight full in her face, letting her gurgle on the red tip but refusing to shaft when she urged his hips up. Loudly he sucked her wet cunthole. He heard the gurgling become a series of grunts, then a long moan. Again her spine arched. This time he tongued her small clit, made it twang. She gasped on the glans of his tool, mashed her pussy into his face and spurted love lubricants from the gash he was sucking.
He was about to pop off himself when some-one knocked at the door. "Oh, ta' it ou'," mumbled Peggy on the pulsing meat in her mouth.
But he wasn't about to stop now, no matter who came in. In fact, he was glad someone had knocked. The music in the next room had grown loud, the beat frantic. But the chanting and clapping had stopped, as if whoever had been stripping-somehow he knew it was that; a cock-teaser, doing her thing for the roomful of boys, had reached the finale, and now, with nothing left to take off, was taking the boys on. Still sucking, letting his rod bask for the moment in the warmth of Peggy's small mouth, he watched the door open-watched Lori, his wonderful Lori, step into the bedroom with Rudy in tow. He should have known. No one but Lori would have gumption enough to strip for the kids.
"Holy shit!" blurted Rudy.
Lori giggled. She eyed the scene as if it were an everyday household occurrence. But her pussy was swollen, Steve could see, fat and sassy, ready to swab a stiff prick. He watched her close the door and tug the astounded Rudy to the side of the bed.
Unable to escape the dick in her face, Peggy looked shamefully away. There was an awkward moment when Steve thought sure both she and the boy were going to faint. Then Lori said, "Boy, Peg, that sure looks like fun. Lemme help. Daddy has no sense at all once he gets going."
The mattress shifted as Lori came aboard. On her knees, arms stroking the air for balance, she waddled to the head of the bed. She sighed satisfaction. There was a moment of nothing, Steve staring at Rudy as if the boy were supposed to call the next play. Then he felt miniature hands tugging at his hips, prompting him up. "What the fuck?"
"You're strangling her, Daddy," accused Lori. Peggy gurgled in agreement. "Lift your dumb ass already."
"Holy shit!" Rudy reiterated.
Lori rolled her eyes at the boy, called him an asshole. Peggy raised her knees at either side of Steve's head, began to breathe again. Rudy sat tentatively at the edge of the bed, reached for Peggy's left tit, and yanked his hand away as if burnt when he grazed the stiff rod pulling out of the girl's lovely face.
"For crying out loud!" Lori scolded.
It would have been funny, thought Steve. If it had happened at another time or to someone else. If he didn't have his prick in a mouth, and if his balls weren't about to shoot cream all over the place. He lifted, allowing Lori to guide his hips. He groaned, the sweetness of Peggy's lips turning out along the length of his stiffness making his senses whirl. It wasn't exactly an orgy. But he was almost forty, middle-aged, and this was the very first time in his life two cunts had shared his bed at the same time. He buried his nose, his mouth and chin, his tongue, in the dual splits and silky blonde hair between Peggy's gaped thighs, sucked ravenously.
"Um. That's better, Daddy." Lori bent to inspect her handiwork. Intently she watched his long cock disappear down Peggy's throat, pull back, shift with the swing of his hips and fuck deep once more. She bent closer still. "Oh, Daddy, that's nice. Yummy!" Mouth hanging open, curious green eyes a mere inch from the action, she breathed hot on his agitated balls.
"Arah-ah-ah-ahhhhumph!" Steve thought sure he'd die with delight when his daughter's pink little-girl tongue lashed out, flicked his sphincters. Peggy too seemed to feel the giddy sensation. Again the walls of her mouth began to cling like barnacles to the hull of a ship, sucking eagerly, noisily, drawing from deep in her throat-mouthing his prick as she had done before Lori and Rudy came in. Four small satiny hands vied to fondle his swinging nuts. Ten tiny fingers roamed through his cockhair, over his ass, in the smelly crack. Two little mouths sucked and washed and licked him toward the white flame of orgasm.
The mattress shifted again, Rudy finally climbing aboard. He followed Lori's example, waddled on his knees to the head of the bed and came up behind the girl. Swiftly he whipped out his miniature pole before her.
"What're you doin' now?" demanded Lori, annoyed. She craned her neck to look back at the impulsive boy.
"Getting ready to fuck your cunt!" Rudy replied.
"Oh." Lori spread her knees wide apart on the bedding, bent forward. She turned her attention back to the shaft dipping smoothly in and out of Peggy's lovely young face, ran her hands lovingly over her father's big bucking ass.
Steve blubbered incoherently. It was like watching an upside-down smoker. He could see himself plowing, see Lori's chin and pink, licking tongue each time his loins rose. He pulled back, raised his hips until the meat dagger almost popped from its moist scabbard, let his gaze travel slowly up Peggy's willowy body-past cunthair and belly, big-nippled breasts and pleasure-contorted features-to Lori, her tits dangling topsy-turvy between his legs, and down the length of her jack-knifed body to the small, knobby prick nuzzling its way into her white-blonde pussy. His nuts swelled. His joint tingled. Groaning, every nerve in his lower abdomen prompting the final lunge, the jab that would release the overdue cumload, he shot his hips down.
Peggy gulped. Her fingers closed tight on his sacs. Rudy yelped. "Holy shit!" and fucked his rod in short eager thrusts up Lori's little round belly.
"Suck it," cried Steve, the cum spurting. He held at the hilt, lapping the flowing juice from Peggy's hot cunthole and ground the roots of his cock and his coarse pubic hair into the girl's eager mouth. "Drink it, baby, Yeah. Ah! Oh, Jesus! UMMM! Suck it all, sweetheart. Eat my prick. UM! Ar! Ar-ahhhHHHHH!"
Peggy's ass rose high off the bedding, the gook pouring off in her face, triggering another orgasm in her birthday-girl pussy. Loudly she swallowed, moaning each time another thick gob shot into her gullet. She worked her throat muscles on the knob of Steve's pissing tool ... milking ... demanding more.
Steve heard whispers, a giggle. The noise broke slowly through the sighs and moans of their lovemaking. Still coming, still unable to breathe because of the thrill gripping his loins, the smell of Peggy's wet gash, the sight of Lori being fucked from behind, he glanced toward the door. Debbie had entered the room. She and the boy from the armchair stood staring wondrously at the bed-the boy's hand sunk deep in the split up the ass of her jeans, his cock standing straight out in his pants.
"Oh, Ru-deee. Ow! Ummm, do it. Fuck me good." Lori leaned farther forward, glued her mouth to the winking eye of her father's ass.
Rudy panted, took firm hold of her hips, and began to drive in and out. The two at the door moved to the side of the bed. Steve didn't know .where to look first. He wanted them all-Lori, Peggy and Debbie. His dick was still spitting and the cunt in his face was, for the moment, the sweetest he'd ever lapped. But he rolled, popping the slippery shaft impulsively from Peggy's mouth, the last gobs of cream spurting off on her brow, in her hair. He grabbed Debbie's small hand, yanked her away from the boy and onto the pile of warm, gyrating bodies.
There was no need to talk; the boy at the side of the bed fell greedily upon Peggy, and she-cunthole nipping in search of the tongue that had been taken away-spread her trim legs even wider, trying to take the bulge at his fly ... pants and all. On elbows and knees, Lori matched the furious tempo of the dick swabbing her tight white-blonde pussy. And Debbie, by now used to being ripped off wherever and whenever Steve pleased, sucked in her tummy when his hand sought the button and zipper at the front of her jeans; buried her face at his neck and whimpered when he pushed the outer and under garments down, off; moaned when he rolled her atop him, found her lush little slit from behind, and fucked his stinkfinger in, in-to the hilt up her cunthole.
How many times could a man come in one night, wondered Steve. There was cunt all around him; three shades of little-girl pussy hair, three succulent little-girl asses, and three pairs of pink and white tits.
He glanced at his daughter, watched her screw. He listened to her soft buttocks slap back into Rudy's pumping loins ... the grunts each time Rudy lunged ... the little-girl whimpers and sighs. He looked from there to the minx at his side, watched the new boy-Jimmy what's-his-name? The one who had taken Debbie's cherry in the front seat of a car?-whip out his rod, bigger than Rudy's miniature dipstick, but not nearly as long, as veiny and fat around, as the one Debbie now held in her cool hand, and nervously, so eager he trembled, plant the fat tip in Peggy's wet, honey and sunshine-bright bush.
He groaned. "Jesus, put the fuckin' thing in for me," he told Debbie. "Quick! Shove it ... ah!" His hips bucked in time to the rod being planted in the girl at his side. "Shove the fuckin' thing up before I come again all over the place, Debbie. Now!"
Without hesitation, the girl spread her smooth creamy legs astraddled his thighs, steered the pulsing knob of his prick to the hot hairy hole in her pussy. "Ha-ha-hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," she breathed, fucking herself onto the monster, drawing like a vacuum from within, taking him high in her belly.
"Now screw," ordered Steve. "Wiggle. Fuck that sweet ass up and down."
The bedsprings began to squeak as he threw his hips up to meet her. It was as if he hadn't come only moments ago; as if he hadn't come in a lifetime. His dick was stiffer, longer than any prick in the room. He watched the two smaller rods dip, saw the envy in the lidded eyes of both Lori and Peggy as the chestnut-haired minx moved her cunt up and down, up and down, and round and round on his need.
"Ow. Ow, Ru-deee" Lori gulped, dropped her pretty blonde head to the sheets and thrust her rump high.
Rudy quickened the pace, nuts smacking loudly against the girl's cheeks, cock boring relentlessly in. They were coming, Steve knew. And the couple beside him and Debbie were about to pop, too. He could see it in the glazed blue eyes of the girl who, moments before, had been sucking his meat, hear it in the deep-throated love noises she made. He fucked faster, as hard as he could, wanting to be on time. Wanting it to be a unanimous blast, with three pricks planting cum in three pussies in unrehearsed unison.
Debbie picked up the rhythm. Her mouth hung open, eyes closed tight. Her hot little cunt snapped, almost smoking. The halves of her rear bounced like two pink balls in the palms of his hands.
Christ! thought Steve, nostrils full of the maddening stink of hot young pussy, mouth full of the delicious taste of cuntjuice, hands full of ass. Not in his wildest dream had he ever imagined how good multiple fucking could be. It was like humping all three girls at once-the sounds and movements, the dizzy sway of the bed, the loud slurp-slurp of three hard dicks digging in and out of three soft pussies, all combined in one wondrous screw inside his head. He thought of Midge, sorry for her, for what she was missing. Sorry again for himself for having wasted half a lifetime before discovering the incomparable thrill to be found between a variety of legs. He reached out, cupped his hand over Peggy's left tit, then dug the fingers of his free hand deep in the crack of Debbie's plump behind. His gaze settled on Lori. Dizzily he watched her lovely breasts bob this way and that, saw the ecstasy on her face when Rudy rammed in and hold ... pumping semen ... grunting like a stuck pig as the act of love was completed.
He stopped thinking, stopped caring about everything except the ass grinding above his tense loins. There were six other young cunts in the next room, he reminded himself. There was plenty of beer in the kitchen, and two boys working feverishly to keep the stuff flowing, to get the other six drunk.
"Fuck!" he told Debbie, drunk himself with speculation, and the sounds and sights and smells of a bed full of willing teenage twat.
Music drifted in from the living room. His cock spit. The night was young, he mused at the back of his sex-fogged mind. He didn't know how many times a man could come without stopping to rest. But he was determined to find out.
CHAPTER TEN
The house was quiet when he awoke. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if perhaps it was all a dream. But there was nothing unreal about the shape of the bed; the rumpled sheets, the stains, and the lingering smell. He stared groggily at the sunlit blinds on the window. Morning. He tried to put the pieces of the night before together in his mind. It came out one endless screw; pussy hopping.
He looked down his body. His prick felt like raw chopmeat, but tingling still. The hair on his nuts was crusted with dried cum. He remembered now-recalled how the party in the living room had broken up before he could get enough of the three minxes who had, he was certain, tried to fuck him into oblivion. He groaned, exhausted. He fell heavily back into the pillows and drifted again.
It was noon when he opened his eyes the second time. He heard the sharp crack-crackle of bacon being fried in the kitchen. He grinned, feeling better now, stomach demanding attention, "Hey, Lori," he called. No answer. He waited a moment, frowned. The food wasn't cooking all by itself, he reasoned. Again he called. Louder.
Midge appeared at the door. He blinked. She looked older; her eyes were black-ringed from lack of sleep, hair mussed. The wrinkled dress was the same one she was wearing on the day she ran from the house, spattered with grease from the stove now, a mess. She was the damndest unpredictable woman, he thought. A jack-in-the-box; now you see her, now you don't. He scowled, undecided whether to leap from the bed and crush her in his arms or pretend to be angry.
"I tried," blurted Midge at last. "I did, I really and truly did. I kept telling myself I'd never come back, that I'd just sit there in our damp summer home and die so you and Lori ... " Her voice broke. She brushed stray hair from her brow, shook her head. She sniffled. "Then the food ran out," she continued. "And when I started to go out for more, I remembered I'd forgotten my purse. Then the gas and electric went off, the whole block closing down for the winter. I ... I thought about going home, to my mother. But I couldn't tell her. I just couldn't! And then ... well, I guess I got lonely." She met his gaze, chewed her lip. "I thought about it and thought about it, Steve. About you and Lori. And me. I ... I don't know. What you said about her suc ... s-s-suc ... " she stammered.
"Sucking my prick?" he supplied, knowing the blunt use of the word would make her wince and deriving a perverse sense of satisfaction when she did.
Midge nodded. "I ... I guess it really isn't as if you ... as if you and she ... on, darn it, you know what I mean. As if you were doing it. Sex. I mean, like you said, she can't get pregnant from ... from sucking." She made a face, as if the hose lying limp on his thigh had entered her own mouth and the taste was awful.
Steve reached for his cigarettes, lit one, and exhaled a cloud of smoke in her direction. Another problem, he mused, wondering what Midge would do when she learned the truth. That it wasn't just sucking anymore. That he and Lori were fucking almost every night now. And the others. Cunt all over the place. She had only to approach the bed, sniff, see the yellow cum stains to know.
He threw his legs over the side of the mattress, stood. It was merely another hurdle, he told himself,- Midge was already halfway home, on her way to acceptance. "Is that breakfast I smell?" he asked, wanting to put her at ease.
Again Midge nodded. Her gaze dropped to his long, red rubbery cock. Steve knew the look. Midge, for all her pretended morals, was a woman who liked to screw. It had been more than a week since she'd felt the hot stab of a prick; a week alone, thinking about him and Lori and remembering the day in the kitchen. She was more than halfway home, he decided. She was at the brink, a bare whisper away from complying with his every command.
His stomach grumbled. It was the one appetite that was even stronger than sex. Not like pissing. That he had to do now-notwithstanding the lack of a hard on. Urine he could suppress; he could make a bloated bladder work for him, keep him hard longer when he screwed. But food was the fuel that made things go, replaced the wiggly cumworms for the next round of fucking.
He moved slowly toward her, watched her green eyes flash as she followed the swing of his balls. He stopped with his meat dangling inches away from the dip below her round belly. She met his inquiring gaze, looked hastily away-as if she were the one at fault. He congratulated himself. She expected him to take her, he knew. Perhaps to finish the stand-up session begun more than a week ago in the kitchen. Instead he said, "Let's go eat."
"Like ... ?" Midge pointed a trembling finger at his nakedness.
He laughed. "Why not? Lori's probably asleep, and even if she isn't ... !"
He left the thought dangling as limp as his rod, took hold of her elbow and turned her toward the delicious aromas wafting in from the kitchen. Later they would talk, he added mentally. And before another day dawned, Midge-the wavering prude, a cunt who thought she wasn't a cunt like the others-would be eating out of his hand.
Better still, he amended silently. By nightfall she'd be eating out of his crotch.
It wasn't nightfall, wasn't even late afternoon. But Steve's belly was full; they had returned to the bedroom so Midge could change clothes, and as he watched the soiled dress come off over her head, watched the half-slip follow, saw her in panties and bra, garter belt, silk stockings, and heels-standing exactly where Peggy had stood at the foot of the bed- he remembered how good it had been before Lori interrupted their first stand-up fucking in too many years. He eyed the blonde pussy curls at the legband of the panties, the nipples showing red-brown through the semi-transparent bra. His mouth watered. His chest went suddenly tight. The soreness left his raw cock and hot blood rushed into the cordlike vein along the limp underside.
Again Midge glanced at his growing manhood and looked hurriedly away. "I ... I think I'll take a shower."
"I'll wash your back," offered Steve, envisioning her standing wet in the tub ... bending to retrieve the soap ... cunt and asshole gaped open ... him coming up on her silently from behind. He gripped his stiffening prick suggestively. "We haven't done that in a long time either, baby. Me, ah ... me washing your back. Like the stand-up screw we had going when you ran the hell out of here."
Midge blushed bright red. "We ... we were supposed to talk, Steve. About us. Me, you, and Lori. Nothing's settled." She saw where he was looking. She spread her hand self-consciously at the crotch of the panties, hid the curls.
It was time, Steve decided. In fact, it was long overdue. He recalled the plan he'd formulated upon their return home from summer vacation-the bold frontal attack. Midge had the front of it, he mused, blood beginning to boil. He was tired of trying to handle her with kid gloves, of trying to bring her around to his way of thinking in stages. Moving around the bed, placing himself between her and the bedroom door-just in case-he took a deep breath and said, "You should've been here last night, honey. Then we'd really have something to talk about. Christ, would we."
She eyed him with a mixture of hesitation and curiosity. Her hand came away from her cunt, hung limp at her side. Her gaze darted down, up again. It seemed she couldn't resist sneaking another quick look at his growing rod, no matter how hard she tried. "Wha ... w-what hap-hap-pened las ... last night?" she stammered.
"Fucking. Like you wouldn't believe." He pointed to the crusted cum and pussyjuice stains on the sheets as evidence of the act.
"L-Lori?"
He laughed, again squeezed his joint suggestively, moved his hand slowly up and down the hardening length. "She's some hot piece of ass," he said, wishing Lori was there to help, that he'd found her instead of the note which said she'd be late. "That kid-she could teach you a few things, Midge. A bagful of tricks is what she is. Her and the others ... Debbie Watson, Peggy. All of 'em fuck like bunnies, and I'm number one jackrabbit." He moved to her side before the information could really sink in, before she could rant and accuse him of what he knew she was thinking. It was silly, he thought: a married man seducing his wife to get what his daughter and half the female population of the neighborhood gave up without blinking an eye.
Midge's hands came up to his chest, tried to push him away. "I ... oh, I'll never let you touch me again. I won't, Steve. Never. Never, ever!"
His arm locked at her waist, bent her back. His dick snuggled into the heated pocket atop and between her thighs. "It started with Peggy last night," he breathed into her face. "A knob-job. Man! Then Lori came in, her and Rudy. You know kids-everything the grown-ups do. Then Debbie. She's a good little cocksucker, too. But last night ... Jesus fucking Mary! I had to have a shot of pussy after Peggy's sweet mouth. A mouth's good for openers, but ... !" He spread his hand over her ass, felt the melonlike contours. His dick jerked upward, at attention, the fiery shaft flush with the puffy lips of her sex.
"Oh, you ... you bastard! You rotten ... oh!'' Futilely she pounded his chest. She sobbed. She struggled and tried to bite him, his shoulder, his chin. "I wish ... oh, I wish I'd never met you. You and ... and this!" Infuriated, too angry to evaluate what she was doing, she drove her cunt brutally onto his cock, gulped, "Ouch!"
"What you mean is you wish you didn't want this." Steve returned the thrust. His fingers crept down the crack of her ass.
"I ... I don't want it. I don't, I don-on't!"
But he knew better; he knew she had fucked her hips forward because of an inner compulsion, a subconscious desire all women possessed. But why was it that only the older ones gave him so much trouble? The young ones, even Peggy, after the first halfhearted protests, seemed to know something the mothers and wives overlooked. Something as simple as admitting that fucking was good, the best thing ever invented, a national pastime-indoor sports. A cunt was a cunt and a cock was a cock, and Midge, if he was to keep her, her and Lori too, had to learn that there wasn't much else really worth caring about.
"And then Lori," he continued, hoping to bring her around, to set her cunthole afire with a verbal rehash of the impromptu orgy. "It wasn't the first time, Midge. No! The first time was the day you ran from the kitchen, when she finished what you started, standing up. She's a sweet kid, our Lori. Um! The sweetest'. Her pussy's a shade or two lighter blonde than yours. Tighter, too. The way yours used to be. When we first met. 'Way back when. But there's still something special about you, Midge. Honest. Something I can't quite put my-" he dug his fingers into her cuntlips from behind-"my finger-on!"
Midge threw back her head, gasped, "Ohah. Oh, you ... you d-dirty fink mother. You know I can't, ... ummmmmm! I c-can't ... oh! Oh!"
He knew what she was trying to say: he knew she couldn't resist once he got a dart, any dart, up her pussy. As he had done with Peggy, he inched her back. Until her legs met the mattress and she teetered, then sat, then went down, feet dangling over the edge of the bed, thighs slightly parted, and tits-they seemed bigger now, lusher than the teenage boobs he'd grown used to-forcing the taut red-brown nipples against the flimsy bra with each heaving breath she drew. He flung his leg between hers, used his knee to rub, agitating her pussy. On his side, stiff dick digging into her hip, he gripped one magnificent breast and worked the peak against the palm of his hand ... massaging the way Midge liked best. It seemed he spent his whole life fucking now. But there was nothing he wanted more ... nothing so good. Nothing except getting Midge to adapt to his new, non-moral lifestyle.
"Her cunt!" he went on, stroking her nipples, humping his rod urgently up and down along the panties at the soft outer expanse of her thigh. "I'm telling you, Midge-that fucking Lori! You gotta see it to know how she does. Last night she brought me up stiff when I thought sure I'd never get a harden again. Man-oman! Jesus H. Christ! Sucking ... fucking for hours. She performs miracles. All she did was lean over, kiss the tip. Run her lips down the shaft. Play with my balls. Um!" He moved his hand down her body. Her belly heaved up, held tight. Anticipating. Waiting for the dart to find the livery port. Inwardly, Steve smiled, paused with fingertips at the waist of the panties. "Play with my balls, Midge. Like Lori does for her Daddy. Hold'em."
Midge made a sound that was somewhere between a sob of acceptance and protest. He could see the mental struggle reflected in her lidded green eyes: incest ... a big Daddy-dick in a tight daughter-pussy ... infidelity with Debbie and Peggy and how many others? The accusations flashed, but interspersed with desire.
He took hold of her wrist, guided her hand to his nuts. Her long, slender fingers closed. He sucked air through his teeth, choked, "It-um, Jesus!" He shifted, made her open her legs and positioned himself between. "It doesn't show, Midge. Lori's fuckin' for everyone else anyway. Why shouldn't I get some, huh? Think ... ah! Um! T-think about it, honey. Midge? Baby? Try ... ah! Try to see it from my point of view."
"It ... it's sinful!"
He laughed. He centered the head of his prick in the hot indentation at the crotch of the panties. "Everything good is sinful, Midge. Like it was sinful for me and you to be screwin' before we were married. Remember? You used to tell me that was wrong, too. Fucking just for the hell of it, instead of for makin' babies; some still consider that sinful-the same bunch who made up the rules about incest. Only nobody asked me, and the ole cock-suckers who made up the rules never had a sweet kid like Lori." He considered his own analysis, surprised at the clarity, the logic. Not even Midge could refute common sense. He waited for her to say something; to object or agree.
"Oh ... !" Midge looked away from his questioning eyes, again as if she were at fault. Her head thrashed from side to side on the rumpled bedding.
Steve glanced down her spread-eagled body. The garter belt bit deep in the creamy flesh along the top of her thighs, the meat bulging succulent above the dark elastic tops of the stockings. And her pussy! It showed puffy and bright through the panties, the yellow nylon enhancing the yellow-white curls at each leg-band. An older version of Lori, he thought for the ten-thousandth time. A slightly fogged mirror image of the young, girl he adored. He shoved his hand between her legs, dug deep in her crotch with his fingers.
Midge closed her eyes tight, bit down hard on her full lower lip. Her legs moved spasmatically, working the panties high on one hip, baring the springy curls of her pussy. Her wide ass bucked. Bucked higher still when his stinkfinger bored into her slit. She moaned. Her head continued to thrash, as if she were trying to say no-oow! But the accusations had left the sex-hungry look on her face, only the desire remaining. Need. Acceptance, at least for the moment, of being a cunt and having a cock stiff and ready to fuck its way in.
Abruptly Steve rose and dropped to his knees on the floor at the foot of the bed. He knew Midge; he knew he'd have to get her so hot, hotter than ever before, so eager to screw that she'd fuck for a snake, before she'd consent to blow him. He wanted that. Wanted it more than anything. Because once that was accomplished, the last barrier down, his big dick pissing cum in her face, there would be no more pretenses. She'd know herself. She'd be the cunt she was destined to be, and there would be nothing to hamper many more nights like the night before.
Swiftly he pushed the panties far to one side, bared her sopping wet gash. She sat up, said, "Wha ... ?"
His mouth was there, sucking a sob from her throat before the word was completed. And his tongue was flicking rapidly-like the wings of a bird, a hummingbird siphoning nectar from a moist little flower-against her pink clit even before she fell back gasping, gyrating her loins, mashing her hot juicy cunt in his face.
"You like it, huh, honey?" He stared up her body, past the panties and bra, watched her head come jerkily off the mattress, green eyes vacant of all but lust. "My tongue? Tell me, Midge. Tell me quick what you want my wet tongue to do."
"Ea ... I w-want you to e-e-eat me, Steve. Ummm! S-suck my cunt. Yes. Like ... just like you do ... oh! OHHHHH!" She doubled her knees, hooked the spiked heels of her shoes at the edge of the mattress. Her cunt and asshole gaped wide, the silk stockings and garter belt, the disarranged panties, emphasizing the blonde V of her sex, the glistening halves of her cunt and the cheeks of her ass. "Just like you do Lori," she finished, inching closer, bringing the target to the end of the bed. "Eat it for me. Please. I ... I won't get mad anymore. I won't! I don't care about you and Lori. Only do it. Lick. P-put your ... umah! Oh! Put y-your mouth ther-ere!"
Eagerly he obliged. He opened, his mouth over the hot velvet lips of her pussy, sucked and licked. Fingered and lapped and tongued. He drank the strong woman stink, wanting to bathe in it. Wanting to make her stand over him and drip the sweet goo on his face, in his hair. Wanting to bottle it for his old age. For when fucking became impossible and he had only the kinky memories and a sense of smell.
Noisily he lapped. Until Midge was a whimpering mass of raw woman flesh-a thrashing puppet to be worked by the nerve-end strings inside her smelly pink and purple and livery red sheath. Then he eased gently back onto the bed ... all the time sucking ... coaxing one nylon-clad leg down ... turning his face as he turned his body with feet toward the headboard. Until he lay reversed at her side, cock jerking like a live electric wire close to her mouth.
"I ... I can't," whispered Midge, knowing what he wanted without having to be told.
Steve ignored the unconvincing protest. He licked down the crack of her ass, back. He licked into her cuntlips. The panties were in the way. He curled two fingers beneath the crotch, yanked. The seam gave, the two halves of the undergarment forming a nylon loincloth. He tucked the rear flap under her buttocks, turned the one in front back over her vulva. He washed her blonde bush, down again. Inch by inch, he fucked his hips forward, until the glans of his prick was flush with her cheek, burning to enter the toothy hole in her face.
"Nooo." Midge turned her face away, sobbed. "It ... it's too big. You ... you'll kill me, I know."
He almost laughed. But there was no humor in the throbbing demand in his loins. His meat was a rocket about to blast off, about to tear the roof from the house. His nuts were two steaming comets. His chest was a bellows that had stopped working, leaving a smoldering fire inside his lungs. He wanted to take her face in his hands, force the length of his need in, making her gurgle and gag. Instead, he held himself back, said, "Try it, baby. For me. Just a little suck. I ... I promise I won't make you take it all the way in." He glued his mouth to her cunthole and sucked as hard as he could.
Midge gasped on the tip of his cock. Her breath came in small, labored gushes, each intake matching the flick of his tongue, each exhalation in time with the grind of her hips. Tentatively, fingers atremble, she touched the long veiny monster standing like a tentpole straight out from his wiry cockhair. "Steeeeeeeeeeeeve!" she yelled when he captured her clit in his teeth, chewed gently.
It was the moment he had been waiting for. While her mouth was open, the thrill holding her spine arched high off the bed, he rolled. He set his knees astraddle her head and fucked down. He felt her clenched teeth give. He pressed, slipping the knob of his joint into her face.
The satiny warmth raced up his spinal column, triggered shooting stars in his brain. He cried out into her bush ... a triumphant bellow. He sucked her wet cunt and pressed on, planting inch after hard inch of dick in the face he had looked at and loved, kissed and caressed, through all the years their daughter Lori was growing.
It was ironic, he thought. They were adults and Lori was merely a child. Yet it took Lori to teach him the real meaning of love-the thing he was now teaching Midge. There was nothing without sex-no love, no drive, nothing but the monotony he had endured for twenty years in the Army. Now life was worth living, tomorrow a challenge. Midge herself was a dare, her inhibitions a hurdle to leap. Every new cunt he met was a test, a variation. Every pussy he plowed, sucked, or fingered, every flushed lovely face he shoved his rod into, every asshole he reamed, was a conquest.
He heard Midge gagging, felt her hands pushing frantically against his thighs. He hooked two fingers at each lip of her cunt, spread the halves wide and licked deep into the livery darkness, the mystery. The hands fluttered away. The gagging became a deep-throated gulp, the walls of her mouth turned inward.
"That's it, honey," he breathed into her womb -so deep he half expected to see the pecker-like contraction at the end of her uterus ... see the place where Lori was made. Lori! He pulled back, drove his rod in to the roots with thoughts of the girl.
Midge locked her legs at his neck, smothering him in the fragrant smell of her inner vagina. She yelped on the knob of the cock deep in her throat. Her arms flew about his broad hips, held tight. She sucked like a child drawing a thick milkshake through a pinched straw, all hesitation gone now, the pretenses and protests buried beneath the thrill of a tongue bringing on orgasm, shooting her stiff little pink clit into orbit.
He'd won. He drove his dick in and out of her face like a greased piston, savoring the dual thrill of conquest and cum building. He felt the thighs at his neck tighten, tasted the hot gush of cuntjuice that meant Midge had reached the plateau and was tumbling into the world of bright lights and tingles. He lapped up the goo, strained. He urged his stiff dipping prick to join her. He fucked faster, slamming it brutally into her face, knowing that no matter what he did now, no matter how much he hurt her, abused her, used her, Midge wouldn't object. They were past the stage of tentative sucking. They had reached the place where a woman's mouth is a cunt without hair, and semen was the only cure for the hungry love noises coming from deep in her throat.
"Suck it, baby," he told her, the cumload rising, eager to plant worms in her mouth, to initiate her.
And Lori! Lovely Lori! Soon the girl would be home, he mused dizzily; the three of them reunited. Only this time there would be no brick walls. This time there would be only three willing bodies locked in mutual need.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was a cool, clear, beautiful starlit night; a night worthy of the occasion, the end of a perfect day. Steve sat smoking in the dark living room. He felt relaxed, one with the blue-black sky beyond the big picture window. It was a day he and Midge would remember for a long time.
He glanced toward the bedroom where his wife lay sleeping. He smiled. He could see only her small feet at the foot of the bed framed in the door, the lamp on the night table making her toes translucent. There was nothing she wouldn't do for him now, he mused. Life had taken on a different meaning for both of them, and love, that which they had shared through all the years of their marriage, was suddenly new, full of surprises.
"Because of Lori," he whispered aloud, wanting to hear the girl's name.
He turned his attention back to the window, anxious to have the girl home, in his arms once more. It was strange the way things had happened; Janice first, then Betty Anderson compounding the oral desire, and Lori-so far ahead of him and Midge in her childish way-forcing him to admit to his own incestuous drives, to come to grips with himself, and finally Midge. It was strange and unique and wonderful ... perhaps evil, perverted and wrong, in the eyes of those who still lived by ancient biblical codes, moral values that demanded mindless agreement, but the only possible way for him, Midge, and Lori.
He drew deeply on his cigarette, let the smoke billow out and dance up to the ceiling. He watched it curl along the plaster, roll at the molding and fade, becoming one with the air. Just as he had become one with the stillness and tranquility of the starlit night. At peace. No longer at odds with the natural forces within. A man who knew what he wanted; a man who had conquered the last inhibition and who was about to embark on the adventure every father of a girl like Lori, every husband of a woman like Midge-though few would admit it -dreamed of ... longed for from the day the first fuzz appeared between their little girl's legs, to the time she walked out of their lives to fuck for another.
He sighed. He heard a car in the distance-tires squealing around a corner. It was Rudy, he knew. And Lori. Little Annie Lori. Wonderful little cock-teasing Lori. He crushed his cigarette out in the ashtray beside the deep armchair, leaned forward and held his breath.
The roar of a hot rod engine sounded at the far end of the street, sputtered as the driver stepped down on the gas. Again tires squealed, this time braking. Rudy's quivering jalopy jerked to a stop at the curb in front of the house. The motor screamed one last time before coughing, gurgling on the last ounce of gas, and settling into quiet.
There was a blank moment-a moment of kissing and feeling Lori's high tits, Steve supposed-before the passenger door opened and Lori stepped out of the car. Rudy emerged at the opposite side. The girl waited for him. Steve watched them join hands and walk leisurely up to the house. He hadn't anticipated Rudy. Now he wondered why Lori had invited the boy in, and how best to get rid of the nuisance so he and Midge and Lori ...
The front door opened as he rose from the chair. "It's late!" he snapped, angry because the boy was an unforeseen monkeywrench thrown into his plans. "You better send Rudy home, baby. Now!"
"But we have something to tell you." Lori eyed the open fly of his shorts, grinned. She coaxed the boy by the hand into the room, closed the door. She cocked her head in the cute way she had of making Steve smile, no matter how angry he was.
He flopped back into the chair, lit another cigarette and tapped his fingers impatiently. But he wasn't prepared for the news: he sat staring, mouth dropping slowly open as Lori said, "Me an' Rudy decided tonight we'd get married, Daddy. Not right away, but someday. After we finish school maybe. In a couple of years. An' Rudy, well ... you tell him, Rudy."
The boy stepped awkwardly forward. He cleared his throat, sucked in his chest. Steve looked him up and down. Was he hearing right, he wondered. After all the scheming, all the preparations for this special night, was he to be cheated by a runt five-foot-six inches tall, and with a "prick no bigger than a hot dog? He glanced at Lori, at the disarranged skirt and the blouse hanging out at the waist. They'd been fucking, anyone could see. He didn't mind that-he didn't mind who the girl screwed. But he wasn't about to let the afternoon with Midge to waste; he wouldn't stand for Rudy or anyone coming between them now.
"We ... we been talking," said Rudy at last. "About last night and all. We, ah ... figure we can ... I mean you can, ah ... that is, Lori and me want you to know we dig the way you, ah ... the way you do things. What happened and all. The party and like that." Again the boy fell into awkward silence, looked helplessly at Lori.
The girl stroke across the room, parked her ass sidesaddle on the arm of the chair. She hugged her father's neck. "What he's trying to say, Daddy, is that we-I mean I want you to teach him how to screw. Like you. I love Rudy and all, but when it comes to fucking, well ... !" She stared at him with big innocent little-girl eyes.
It took Steve a moment to digest the request. Then he laughed. So loud the room seemed to shake, the house threatening to come down on their heads. He squeezed Lori, thinking how little he knew her, her impishly mischievous mind, in spite of everything. Who else would think of something like that? Fuck lessons! Him preparing her future husband! It was as insane as wonderful as everything else that had happened between him and the girl since his retirement.
The noise had awakened Midge. She stood rubbing sleep from her eyes at the bedroom door, a sheet wrapped loosely about her. She looked from one to the other, as if she were the child of the family, and Steve and Lori, her parents, owed her an explanation.
Steve let his hand drop to Lori's plump ass. "I'm going into business," he told Midge.
"Business?"
He nodded. "Tutoring, at Lori's request. Rudy's gonna be my first pupil."
Again Midge looked from one to the other. Her eyebrows rose quizzically. The sheet inched low on her breast, exposing two halfmoons of creamy flesh. The material clung to her belly. She was a Roman goddess, thought Steve. A nymph called in from the outlands of Venus, province of Aphrodite, to participate in the banquet he had prepared.
Lori giggled. "Tell 'er, Daddy. Before she goes ape trying to guess."
Steve extended his hand. Midge came slowly, falteringly, from the doorway to the armchair, the sheet dragging the floor. Her fingers closed over his. She looked from his face to the hand kneading Lori's round buttocks. Her color deepened. She was still a bit gun-shy, mused Steve: still hung up in the last rigors of a lifetime of inhibition. He wished they'd had a son, too. A boy with Lori's temperament. Someone to do for Midge what the girl had done for him.
A bulb went on inside his head. He blinked. Why not, he reasoned, staring past Midge at Rudy. "C'mere, son," he said.
He waited for the lad to comply, to move close to the armchair. Then, before Midge knew what he was up to, he grabbed a fistful of sheet, yanked. The improvised garment fell away, exposing her pink and white quivering flesh.
"Holy shit!" exclaimed Rudy.
Midge gasped, tried to retrieve the covering. Steve threw it across the room, captured the hands that tried to hide her thick bush, the red-brown peaks of her breasts. "Rudy's your first extramarital fuck," he told her bluntly. "That's what I'm tutoring in, honey. Fucking ... sucking ... Lori's idea. Like I told you this afternoon, our daughter's some kid."
It was nip and tuck for a while, Midge objecting that the boy was too young, wasn't part of what he had told her that afternoon, Steve countering that Rudy was three years older than Lori-almost a man-and was, as their future son-in-law, almost part of the family. The tug of wills continued until they entered the bedroom. Until Lori flung off her clothes, bounced naked onto the bed, and Rudy, apparently delighted at the prospect of sex with a woman twice his age, a woman almost as white-blonde and lovely as the girl he someday intended to wed, tentatively touched Midge's ass.
"Don't do that!" she yelped.
Steve stepped out of his shorts and sat beside Lori at the edge of the bed. He flung his arm over her shoulder, cupped his hand at her tit. He winked at the boy. Adding moral support, he dug his free hand into the girl's pussy, motioned for Rudy to do likewise.
Rudy advanced on his prospective mother-in-law. "Holy shit," he balked. "How're we gonna fuck if you won't let me feel?"
"We ... w-w-we're not going to ... to do anything!" But already her breasts were heaving, the nipples taut, and the V-shaped mound of her sex was swollen bright pink beneath the tight curls. She glanced, at Steve, watched for a moment as he fondled their daughter. Her eyes grew wide when Lori took hold of his cock, began to move her hand slowly up and down while they kissed. Her gaze followed the strokes ... up, down, up, down ... Steve's dick getting fatter ... longer ... veins popping like cords beneath the loose outer jacket of skin. She stared as if mesmerized, obviously forgetting the eager boy. It was only a moment, but more time than Rudy needed to twist his stiff middle finger up her hot cunthole.
Then they were all on the bed; mother and daughter lying side by side, Rudy and Steve spreading two pair of thighs-one set more mature, fleshier, the other pair firmer up top, slightly pinker where the white columns joined trembling buttocks-one miniature rod and one bloated monster about to seal the pact Steve had made with himself. It was even better than he had planned. Now Midge would accept not only Lori, not only a threesome, but would be primed for whatever numbers he could lure to the house. Groaning, lost in visions of the future, of parties that became orgies, he set the fat tip of his prick at Lori's sweet slit, humped.
"You-ow! Owah!" The girl took him halfway in, raised her knees and moved her hips in slow easy circles. "You're supposed to teach Rudy, Daddy. Remember?"
It was a hell of a time to give lessons, he wanted to say. But one glance at Rudy and Midge was more than enough to convince him the boy was indeed in need of direction. Rudy hadn't bothered to take off his clothes-which was understandable considering Midge's initial reluctance. But more, instead of working her cunthole until it was wet, greased for a rod, he was fucking it to her dry, and Midge, tight to begin with, torment that showed on her pinched face, each time the impetuous boy lunged.
"Fucking lesson number one," he growled at the over-anxious, under-experienced youngster. "You finger or suck a pussy 'til it stinks. When you can smell it across the goddam room, you know she's ready to screw." He scowled at Midge, who was blushing so red he thought sure she was going to rupture a blood vessel. It was funny, and he would have laughed if his joint weren't so hard, and if the little-girl hips beneath him weren't so soft, warm, and wiggly.
It was Lori who did the rest-sweet, uninhibited Lori. Without waiting for him to complete the verbal instructions, she grabbed Rudy's knobby cock, yanked it out of its niche. Pouting, telling them all just what she thought of their dumbness, she undid the boy's pants and tugged at his shirt while he kicked free of the cumbersome lower garment. Ass churning faster, pointed tits rising and falling rapidly now, she waited for the boy to squirm out of his shorts. Then her hand returned to his prick. "Open, Mummy." she breathed in a small, appealing voice, fingers working the livery slit so like her own ... probing ... darting in ... opening and closing the lips. "I'll help. Men don't know."
"I ... Iiiiiiiiii ... !" Midge obeyed. She raised one knee, threw it wide, jackknifed at the boy's side. Her thighs formed a delectable alabaster runway to the springy blonde target. Arms flung back, hands clutching the headboard, she stared wondrously down at the tiny fingers steering Rudy's meat into the pinkness, that had indeed, after only a few gentle stabs, begun to stink.
Steve watched too. It was something else he hadn't planned; he had never thought of matching two cunts, Midge and Lori, watching them work on each other. Now he considered the possibilities, the endless variations. Again, as he had done the previous night, he wondered how many 'times a man could pop before he went blind. Fell unconscious. Tore the insides out of his balls.
"Holy, holy, holy holy, ho-leeeeeee!" Rudy's ass jacked up and down, planting the last inches in Midge's tight pussy. "Ah! Manomano-manomanoman!"
"Now latch onto her buttocks," directed Steve. "Hold 'er ass and fuck. Not too fast, though. Easy at first. 'Til she starts to go wild -like someone stuck a knotted rope up 'er rear and is pulling it out." He knew because it was what he was feeling in Lori.
He turned his attention back to the girl, stared into her flashing green eyes. He pulled out until the base of the tip appeared at her cuntlips, watched her pout become a grimace of longing as he pressed ... forcing the stake slowly in ... making it last ... prolonging the union of soft pussy curls and coarse cockhair.
"Daddy. Oh, Daddy, I love you so." Lori locked her arms at his neck, urged his face close to hers.
Steve kissed her, took hold of the cheeks of her ass, and began to screw in earnest. He listened to Midge's sighs, the boy's eager grunts. That was another thing he had to teach Rudy, he cataloged mentally. Not to grunt! To pant and growl and bellow triumphantly, but never to make noises like a stuck pig. A couple of years, Lori had said. There was plenty he could teach Rudy in a few years, and more for Lori to teach both of them before she married the boy.
The bedsprings began to squeak rhythmically. Beside him Midge took control, at last giving in, shedding the last mental restraint Her hands slid down the boy's back, clutched his small, wiry cheeks. Her legs shot up to his waist, locked. Out of the corner of his eye, mouth still glued to Lori's, Steve watched his wife become the woman who had sucked him off that afternoon. Their gazes met. But only for an instant. Only long enough for her to mouth a silent yes! Then her head began to thrash from side to side on the pillow, her ass began to pound. Her pussy began to slurp on the boy's dip-dip-dip-ping tool.
"Lori, baby," he groaned into his daughter's sweet mouth. There was no need to say more. Only fuck. Ram his big Daddy-dick up her hot belly. Twist a finger deep in her asshole and slam. Hammer her gyrating hips brutally into the mattress with endless energy.
It was over too soon. He had just gotten it in, it seemed, when the girl stiffened, closed her cunt tight at the roots of his meat and refused to let go. She tore her moist lips from his, cried, "Da-Da-deeeeeeee ... !"
It was more than he could endure. The look on her lovely face, the sight of her swollen white-blonde pussy breathing, sucking, demanding its due, worked on his prostate-triggered the switch that opened the floodgates of love. The cum poured. It ripped a strangled sob from his chest, another from hers. It made his dick spring up longer and stiffer inside her, made his hips buck and pound. He couldn't think, couldn't see, couldn't hear, could only feel. And what he felt was heaven itself, white-hot and good. So good. Pussy to cock and belly to belly, a plump little-girl ass in his hands. A special little-girl ass-his little girl's.
When at last it was over; the semen oozing hot from Lori's pink gash, forming new stains on the sheets; when he lay limp atop her, cock basking, preparing itself for more, recuperating; when Rudy and Midge had reached the white-hot place too, the boy wheezing like the carburetor on the jalopy he drove, Midge cooing, mothering him; when the room stopped spinning and the boat they were on was a bed once more, Steve turned to his wife, said, "That wasn't so tough, was it?"
Midge smiled. It was more than mere facial acceptance-it came from within. It was the first real smile he'd seen on her face in months. She tried to speak, but the orgasm, the thrill, was still caught like a lump in her throat, locking her vocal mechanism. She reached for his hand instead, placed it over the tit opposite the one Rudy was sucking.
They lay still for a long time. Until the sound of labored breathing grew faint, became normal. Lori stretched beneath him, made his cock leap anew. She made a face. "What now, Daddy? "she asked.
"Now--he glanced at Rudy, who was watching him with the look of a puppy waiting to be told to go fetch a stick. "Now we get on with it," he finished. "Your boyfriend's education. Your mother's, too." He raised his ass. His joint popped wetly from the girl's sloppy little pink cunthole.
He barked orders as if he were back in the Army, and the three-Rudy eager, Midge slightly skeptical, Lori wide-eyed and curious -were his troops. He made Rudy pull out. He made Midge and Lori wipe the goo from their cunts with the edge of the sheet. He studied the terrain, searching for the most rewarding approach. It was cock-sucking time; they all knew it. But he wanted something more. Something like champagne. An extra treat.
He snapped his fingers, suddenly inspired. It would be awkward, he knew ... a four-way, rotating gymnastic. A switch game. Something he'd heard about somewhere, though he couldn't recall where. On his knees, he waddled to Midge, arranged his legs astraddle her chest. His sweaty ass and huge balls came down on her tits, dick still rock-hard and bobbing at her chin. She started to speak. He silenced her with a hand over her mouth-stinkfinger, wet with the gook from Lori's tight rear, smelling of shit, probing her lips, getting her ready for the longer, mightier dart. He motioned Lori to her feet at the head of the bed, and Rudy, who had been watching every move with eyes that threatened to pop from their sockets, up behind.
"In her ass," he told the boy. "While I suck her pussy, and Midge-" he grinned evilly down at his wife-"sucks me. Then we'll switch up, everyone getting a shot at being the low man. Even the girls."
Lori scowled. Hands on hips, feet planted wide apart and cunthole wafting its fishy aroma in his face, she said, "That's dumb, Daddy."
"Is it?" Steve took hold of the cheeks of her ass, spread them open for Rudy. He lashed out with his tongue, raked her wet slit, the tiny pink soldier showing its head-like a man wearing a derby, round and shiny-from between the fleshy lips.
"Umph! Owwwwwwwwww!" The girl's hips shot forward as if someone had shoved a torpedo up her cute ass. Her hands came down at the back of his head. "Owah-ah! Ow, Daddy. Um! Umah!" She gasped as his tongue found, the pinkness once more, made her clit dance. "Da-dee-eeeeee ... !"
Steve pushed his hard prick into Midge's mouth at the same moment Rudy set his miniature pole at Lori's pinched anus. Together they humped, the boy matching the tempo Steve set, the girls moaning. Two hardens bored home- Lori taking hers with backward drives of her hips, pulling the meat deep in her delectable rectum, Midge sucking the glans of her husband's rod into her throat. Again the bed began to rock ... though gently this time, the four working as one to prolong the sexual bliss.
The second cumload was always the best, mused Steve, his gaze darting from the white-blonde bush in his face to the mouth caressing his tool. He felt the soft tits, the rubbery nipples, quivering beneath his ass, against his balls, hefted the lush little melons in his hands. He smelled and licked. He rotated his loins, shafting Midge's flushed face. He listened to the sounds of their lovemaking-Rudy grunting again-damn! He'd forgotten to tell the boy about that! Lori gasping as if her small lungs would burst, and Midge gurgling like a clogged drain. It was stupendous. And there were two holes in mother and daughter he had yet to plow: Lori's asshole and mouth, both lower ports on Midge. Only not yet, he reminded himself. Slowly. Just as the cum was about to spurt. Out of one and into the other, the short pause cooling the action, making it last. It was the name of the game-switch!
He thought back to summer vacation, to the cunts he'd sampled. Hadn't Midge said something about having invited the Andersons and Sniders to visit? Betty? Lyn and Viv? He closed his eyes, drank deep of the sweet smell of pussy and envisioned a night in the future-a summer reunion.
"Holy shit!" blurted Rudy. "Man, if we're gonna ... ah! Ah-ah-oh, manoman!" He gripped Lori's tits, squeezed so hard the melons receded into her chest. "Goddam, Lor. What an asshole you got. But if we're gonna switch, we better do it quick 'cause I'm comingggggggg!"
Lori stared down at her father. Her hips slowed. She loosened her grip on his head. "Daddy?"
Midge gurgled, unable to speak but telling him with her body that it was time for something to be shoved in one of the vacant holes where it counted-pussy or ass, both if he could arrange it that way.
Was there anything in the world better than fucking, Steve wondered. Money? Fame? No! he decided. Empathically not! There was nothing to compare with cunt. With a daughter who loved him in the best possible way, and a wife who had at last come around, would do anything for him. And with prospects for the future that could-if he thought about it long enough, closed his eyes and imagined-wrench the cream from his balls.
How many men, husbands and fathers, could claim as much, he wondered, wanting to pass it on, to say to the world of inhibited men, "Don't fight it. Because life's too short to let it slip by without taking that pussy ... a daughter ... whatever. Go!"
He grinned up at Lori, then down at Midge. He released the girl's succulent ass flesh, used the back of one hand to wipe the cuntjuice from his mouth. He pulled his dick slowly from his wife's face. He winked at the boy peering expectantly over Lori's cute shoulder.
