When Vladimir Nabokov created his immortal "Lolita", he was formulating the prototype of the child-woman, whose blend of candor and ingenuousness has through the ages been capable of luring the most mature and sophisticated of males to erotic desire. Yet his teenaged heroine was far from being so naive about her sexual appeal to Humbert. Humbert as the latter erroneously suspected-and, indeed, it was that failure to appreciate the degree of intuitive womanhood which she possessed which led to his undoing.
The totally uninitiated teenaged female, just emerging from puberty, has for many adult males the most dangerous allure of all. They imagine themselves as her benevolent initiator, and they are attracted by her very innocence because it suggests the age-old prize of untouched virginity. For centuries, this virtue of maidenhood was esteemed above all else in the female. It is only with our current sexual revolution that we have come to learn that it is not at all synonymous with reciprocal erotic passion.
In reality, as modern psychiatrists declare, the desire of a mature, aging male for an under-age, nubile, budding female has at base the subconscious temptation of incest. From the dawn of time, society has imposed a stringent taboo upon relationships between father and daughter, mother and son or any other immediate blood kinships. Initially, in the era of primitive man, virginity in the young female was allocated as a gift to be bestowed upon the warrior-male of a neighboring tribe whose conjugal link with the tribe of the girl was sought to bring about peace between both tribes and a strengthening of these neighboring groups against common human and predatory animal enemies. If her virginity were taken by her own father, she would no longer be desirable to the warrior-male.
Yet, just because propinquity is born out of proximity and because that which is taboo becomes all the more tempting, we find increasingly numerous instances of incestuous relationships in our present-day society. Nor are these limited to ethnic groups or the lower economic classes by any means. Dr. Kirstein Weinberg, a nationally known authority on incest, maintains that the proportion of such illicit unions may actually be greater among the well to do and the better educated classes, because of the powerful stimuli of fantasy and imagination.
In Mark Conroy's new novel, Kristina, the thirteen-year-old heroine, arrives at the dawn of her adolescence totally ignorant of sexual knowledge or awareness. Her vague yearnings, she innocently believes, are attributable to "growing-up pains." On the day of her birthday, out of the seemingly innocuous ritual of "birthday spanks", both she and her father are transformed out of their inevitable roles to make him her initiator and lover. Thereafter, as her brother and uncle discover the subtle alteration of her young psyche, she becomes a true Lolita, childishly aware of her own powers, even eager to test them in the deliciously exciting game of pretending to be grownup.
Since her father and mother have been separated, Kristina becomes the wife-substitute symbol for her father, not unlike the Biblical precedent of Lot and his daughters. And when at last her father falls in love with an adult female and ultimately marries her, Kristina makes the discovery of her own initial jealousy as a love-rival, impatiently awaits her own maturity to lead a life now enlightened by what she has learned through almost accidental experience.
The story of Kristina is not at all unique. From it, we may learn that it is sensible as well as advisable to acquaint under-age males and females with a sound sexual education that will stand them in good stead in later life to banish the inhibitions of fear, guilt and shame.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
Kristina Ainsley sighed unhappily as she looked out of her bedroom window to see the poplar trees along the pleasant, quiet residential blocks of Morse Avenue bending before the gusts of a rainy April wind. It was Friday, her thirteenth birthday, and even the mysterious package which a uniformed delivery man had just brought to the house with her name on it failed to cheer her up.
The package, she knew, was from Mother. Six months ago Daddy and Mother had had some sort of quarrel. They had told her and her fifteen-year-old brown-haired, wiry brother Donald that sometimes grown people had differences and decided to go their own separate ways.
She'd always been close to her blonde, tall, soft-spoken mother, much closer than Donald. It still puzzled her that in spite of their being such friends, Mother hadn't even given her a hint as to why she and Daddy were breaking up. All she'd said, when she'd come to Kristina's room that awful Saturday morning, was, "Now you be a good girl, honey, and mind your daddy, hear? I'll write you and I'll send you presents. Now give me a nice hug and a kiss."
And even though she'd been crying, Mother had pretended not to notice and had just whispered, "Now that's no way to carry on, darling. It's not the end of the world, really it isn't. And now I've got to catch my plane, so you behave yourself."
Since then, there'd been only a few letters, and now this package. Daddy never talked about Mother anymore, either. The week after she'd left, he'd hired a nice old German widow to keep house and cook the meals. Kristina liked old Mrs. Weidman, but of course it wasn't the same thing as having your mother.
Tonight, Kristina knew, there'd be a special birthday dinner, with roast chicken and brown betty, her very special favorites. But she still felt lost without Mother. There were things a girl could talk about, real private things, with one's mother that you couldn't somehow bring yourself to mention to a father. like why she was so restless at night lately and could hardly fall asleep. There were dreams too, about going out on dates with boys who would try to kiss her, and she'd wake up feeling flushed and feverish, with the funniest tickling along the insides of her legs.
She turned back at last to the package on the bed. She was tall for her age, five feet five and a half inches. Her face was heartshaped with large, closely spaced dark-blue eyes, dainty little turned-up nose, and a full, generous mouth. Her honey-gold hair was braided into two thick pigtails, but she was thinking of changing that because Donald was forever yanking at them and teasing her. Most of the time she wore jeans and blouse. She liked playing softball with the boys. Just the other day daddy had called her his little tomboy. Maybe that was what she wanted, now that Mother was gone. She knew Daddy liked her brother the best, and perhaps one reason she had started wearing jeans and playing ball was to be closer to him. It was awfully lonely being an outsider now.
It was a department store box, but there was a card inside from Mother, lying on top of the tissue-wrapped gift. She opened the envelope and read it, but there wasn't any address to show where Mother was living now. All it said was, "To my big girl on her birthday, wear these now you, you'll grow up to be a beautiful woman."
Wonderingly, she unwrapped the package, saw it was several gifts: a pretty sky-blue cotton frock with modishly short skirt, a monogrammed white nylon petticoat, a pair of matching white nylon bras and panties, and two pairs of beige nylon hose with a white satin-elastic garter belt. Her eyes widened with sudden excitement; she'd never had such lovely, grownup things to wear before. Up to now, she'd worn a training bra-halter, a clumsy, unattractive thing she hated.
Glancing up at the door, she suddenly ran to it and turned the key in the lock. Lately, Donald had been teasing her about her pigtails and playing with boys and wearing boy's clothes. He had a disconcerting habit of walking in on her even when she had the door closed. And this was certainly one time she didn't want him to do that.
Quickly, she unbuttoned her blouse, tugged it off, then unfastened the skintight jeans and began to pull them down, wriggling her hips to facilitate their descent. She had no way of knowing that there was a jagged crack in the plaster on the wall directly across from her bed and that at this very moment Donald Ainsley was crouching against his own bedroom wall, his right eye screwed tightly up against the peephole which he himself had carefully bored with a drill a few months ago as a lark. The fact was, precociously sex-minded Donald had become very much aware of his young sister's blossoming out. Several times he'd seen her in the halter and panties, but never naked. This afternoon, his patient vigilance was about to be rewarded. As her jeans fucked down to her knees, he stealthily unzipped the fly of his new dacron slacks and liberated his long, bony, plum-headed prick. It was already in savage erection and he began cuddling the angrily reddened bulbous head in his left palm as he balanced himself with his right hand clamped against the wall, quivering with hungry anticipation.
As Kristina stooped to scuff off her pedal pushers and then yank off the jeans, her young round tits jutted boldly and tautly against the halter, which shaped out the budding points of her virgin nipples. Donald Ainsley sucked in his breath and tightened his fingers around the throbbing glans of his rigid prick. All his attention was focused on the round little hole which furnished such an exciting revelation, praying she wouldn't move out of range.
She didn't. Thoughtfully, slowly, she reached behind her to unfasten the halter, shrugged pink dimpled shoulders out of the straps and tossed it onto the bed. The movement made her perky round apple-like tits jiggle fascinatingly and drew another suppressed gasp of excitement from her avid brother. Now, for a moment, Kristina contemplated herself, blushing adorably. Her soft slim hands hesitantly touching the rounds of her swelling tits she peered quizzically down at them, narcissistically admiring herself.
Then, quickly, thrusting her forefingers under the waistband of the little panties, she snugged them down and let them drop to her ankles, stepped out of them and was naked but for socks. Kneeling down on her left knee, she doffed the right sock and then shifted to the other knee. At last she rose deliciously pink-naked. Her cuntal lips were delicately formed, softly pouting over the secretive vulva, and only a few sparse, silky light-brownish hairs fleeced her virgin cunt.
"Ohh, Jeez," Donald Ainsley muttered to himself, his left forefinger beginning to rub the taut, velvety glans of his aching prick as he squinted at his sister's tempting virgin cunt. "Is she ever built for it!"
He was not only seeing Kristina naked for the first time, but also viewing her with the air of a connoisseur of cunt. Last Saturday afternoon, he had gloriously graduated from secret jacking-off to dream-fantasies in favor of a real bare-skin fucking. like most boys his age who enjoy bragging about their sexual abilities, Donald has boasted of his varied experiences, all of which were, of course, in his mind and his right hand. To his consternation, Cy Edwards, his best friend at Selmar High, had proposed, "I'll bet you're not good enough to make June Tomlinson cum." And when he had swaggeringly assured his friend he could satisfy any girl, Cy had taken the wind out of his sails by nonchalantly proposing, "Okay, Don, I'll just call your bluff. I've got a date Saturday afternoon with June in her basement-you wanna come along and fuck her? She can't get enough, so she'll put out for you too if I tell her you're my buddy."
Not without misgivings, Donald Ainsley had glibly told his father he was going to play Softball with Cy, and had joined his crony in the basement of June's three-story apartment building on Olive Street. June, a plump, bespectacled, somewhat bovine 16-year-old, had gigglingly led the boys to an unoccupied storeroom at the far back of the basement, assuring them that none of the tenants ever came back that far. Then, whisking off her pink cotton dress and white cotton slip, she had stood for a prick-hardening minute under the glaring light of a single 100-watt bulb in a ceiling fixture, clad in only yellow ankle socks and loafers and a pink cotton bra which strained against the ripe closely set gourds of her lush young tits, wantonly letting both goggle-eyed boys see the wide shallow dimple of her bellybutton and the thick dark-brown curls of a luxuriant cuntal fleece which completely hid the fleshy pink lips of her lasciviously eager cunt, before reaching up to yank the cord and plunge the basement into total, mysterious and exciting darkness.
Donald Ainsley had had just time enough to see his lanky, black-haired friend drop his trousers and follow the giggling brunette to the far back of the storeroom where a discarded mattress conveniently awaited. Then, standing in the darkness, he had been spellbound by the salacious sounds of threshing, sucking, kissing, whimpering and moaning which ensued. All too soon, Cy had emerged, panting, and muttered, "G'wan, Don, she wants to try you out. I'm tellin' you, man, she's got a pussy that can't ever get enough." When he had hesitated, suddenly remembering that this forbidden pleasure might have dire consequences, Cy had urged, "Hell, you don't hafta wear a safe or anything. June's on the pill, dummy-hey, I thought you were a real cocksman."
"Aw, shut up 'n watch," he'd grumbled, glad that the darkness hid his embarrassed blushes. Then, groping in the darkness on his hands and knees, he'd straightened, opening his fly and freeing his already swollen prick just as June's soft hand had reached out and touched it. "Oh, my, you're bigger'n Cy, honey," she'd giggled, and that commendation had saved the day for Donald Ainsley. As he crawled between her straddled plump, pale milky-skinned thighs, the clutch of her soft fingers, against his aching shaft had strengthened as well as guided him to the juicy, hot sheath of her ardent young cunt. Sinking down and burying himself to the hilt, he had groaned as her legs agilely swung over his and her arms locked around his shoulders. Her small ripe wet mouth was pressing feverishly to his as she had gasped, "Ooooh, that's so good, Don lover! My pussy needs lots'n lots of screwin', oh give it to my pussy good now, I'm so hot I just hafta cum!"
Intuitively, he had raised and lowered himself on the teenaged nymph, quickening his pace as her arms and legs augmented their fierce enclaspment. Her mouth was fused to his, and she had thrust her tongue furiously between his lips, rubbing it against his own till the aching torment of his prick had become a veritable frenzy. Happily for his own ego, Cy's hasty but vigorous fucking of the wanton young brunette had drawn her close to orgasm, so that when at last, unable to hold back the bubbling torrent of fiery jism, Donald had uttered a sobbing cry of indescribable ecstasy and felt himself explode deep in her constricting cuntal sheath, June herself was more than ready. With a shrill shriek of rapture, the almost naked young nymph had rolled him over and over, grinding her cunt to him to absorb the last delving inch of his throbbing spear. And at last, moaning with appeasement, she had panted, "Oh golly, that was the best fuck I ever had, Don honey, oh my, did you ever make me cum!"
Cy had gone back for seconds, but he had wisely refrained. Her accolade, he wisely divined, had elevated his stature in both her and Cy's eyes, and a poorer performance the second time around could only have detracted from the laurel he had won as a cocksmith on this memorable Saturday afternoon. Indeed, on the way back to the school recreation yard for a game of softball, Cy had admiringly shaken his head and mumbled, "Boy, you sure were good! June's always gripin' she can't get enough, but you really screwed her, man!"
As Kristina moved to the bed to try on her new birthday finery, her brother shuddered with an overpowering lust. Where only a momentary glimpse of plump naked June had fired him to achieve his first fuck, now he had ample time to detail his burgeoning young sister's tantalizing naked charms. His gaze fixed on the shallow wide dimple of her navel, then the suave curve of the lower abdomen which led to her almost bare pink, surprisingly fleshy cuntal lips. While the labia majora were deliciously plump, the secretive petals of her virgin vulva seemed delicate, furtively closed against any male invasion. At the apex of her cunt, he could make out the diminutive nodule of her clitoris. He gulped, his face hotly flushed, and he began to milk his prick with left thumb and forefinger, fantasizing what it would be like right now to shove his aching cock between those dainty soft pink lips and gouge his way along the tight, warm unprofaned chasm of her tender cuntal sheath.
Kristina, of course blithely unaware of being spied on, reached for the garter belt and tentatively tried it on. Adjusting it and tightening it, she giggled at the sight of the tabs dangling down her lithe pink thighs. Then, her face sobering delightfully, she selected one of the pairs of sheer beige nylons, seated herself on a little footstool near the bed, and began to draw one of the filmy sheaths on. Her mother had accurately remembered her dimensions. The stockings were snug, just right.
She beamed as she applied the tabs to the top of the nylon welts, very proud of herself. And it was true: already she had begun to look like a woman, with such a imagine, decorative stocking support fixed around her slim waist. Ingenuously, but with an unerring feminine instinct, she had stretched out each lovely leg in turn to draw on the nylon stocking. Her brother, by this time, was almost unable to hold back the burning load of jism which strained along his aching, bulging prick. He had to pinch his shaft with two fingers to suppress it.
Next Kristina put on the petticoat, turning to the mirror on the dresser to see herself. She was enchanting in this half-nudity. The white nylon fabric shaped out her loins and thighs and her lovely pink-sheened breasts were proudly bared and jiggling as she turned this way and that, admiring herself. Satisfied that the garment fitted perfectly, she removed it, went back to the bed and drew the white nylon panties up over her lush young hips. They were extremely snug, molding out the jouncy rounds of her bottom and even more lasciviously clinging over the well developed mound of her virgin cunt.
Donald Ainsley could not restrain himself any longer. Again with two fingers, he hastened the milking maneuver along his bulging prick, and, tilting his contorted face up to the ceiling, clapped his right hand over his glans to catch the torrential jet of viscous jism as he shuddered and swayed in the throes of ferocious cum.
Her eyes sparkling with pleasure at the feel and fit of the lovely grownup clothes her mother had sent her, Kristina swiftly donned the bra. She found it snug and decorative as well. Putting on the blue frock, she finally seated herself on the footstool and tried on the chic white high heeled pumps which had been included in the birthday package. Rising, she walked carefully, glancing down at the gleaming pumps with a look of coquettish wonder on her charmingly pretty face, then stood rapt with delight before her mirror.
Oh golly, don't I ever look grown-up now-just like a woman, Mother said! I wonder what Daddy and Don will say when they see me all dressed up like this? I'll bet Don won't tease me and treat me like a baby girl any more when he sees how old I look! But I wish Mother were here right now to see me, so I could thank her and hug her and kiss her-I sort of feel so alone now she's gone. And Daddy never talks about her, either. Gosh, I wonder why they didn't get along.
She turned to one side, admiring herself, then frowned. Oh gosh, I forgot all about my darned old pigtails. Well, it's almost time for supper, so I guess they'll have to stay the way they are. But tomorrow, first thing, I'm going to comb them out. Gosh, I-I feel so grownup, I want to look that way all over, too!
CHAPTER TWO
"That'll be all for today, Miss Henshaw," David Ainsley nodded to his prim, svelte, tall, bespectacled black-haired secretary. He reached for a cigarette, then leaned back in his swivel chair as he heard his private office door close behind him. He was looking forward to Kristina's birthday dinner tonight, almost as a desperately needed distraction from the frustrations and denials which had been building up in him the past six months.
Six feet tall, wiry, with almost crew-cut dark-brown hair, he hardly looked his 43 years, but this afternoon he'd begun to feel them. If only Helga had played fair with him, he morosely thought to himself as he puffed angrily at the cigarette. After seventeen years of marriage and two kids, she'd suddenly taken it into her head-or rather, into her cunt-to go traipsing off with a 28-year-old garage mechanic. She was even going to marry the guy as soon as the final divorce decree was issued, which ought to be any day now. And the only explanation she'd given him was that she was bored from the lack of excitement in their going to bed together and that Jirka-that was her lover's name-knew how to domineer a woman and make her feel all woman. What a hell of a note that was-to say nothing of what it had done to his cocksmith's pride.
David Ainsley was the director of a media research firm which did business with the big ad agencies. They wanted to know what TV shows, radio programs and newspapers and magazines could guarantee their clients the best sales results for moneys expended. He'd started as a junior copy-writer out of journalism school, worked his way up to account executive and then discovered he liked research better than the daily hassle with grumpy clients who thought they could write better ads than he did. He'd met Helga Berndtsson at a cocktail party thrown by his agency. She'd come there as the distantly related cousin of one of the artists on his agency's staff, and it had been love at first sight. Tall, willowy, with golden hair almost down to her waist, she'd been a kind of Nordic goddess who'd awakened all his romantic lusts. Maybe that had been the trouble, treating her reverently like a goddess rather than as a hot-pussied floozie who wanted rough fucking, which apparently was what Jirka had been giving her.
An only child and strictly brought up, David Ainsley had had very little erotic experience prior to his marriage. A few necking parties with a senior coed who had turned out to be a genuine prickteaser, then the quickie and not too thrilling loss of his male virginity to a plump coppery-haired young waitress from the coffee shop across the street from his ad agency late one night when he'd been working overtime on a deadline full-page newspaper ad for a new deodorant, and then Helga. In the seventeen years of their marriage, he'd been unbelievably faithful. After all, his golden-haired wife had been exactly the type of bed partner he'd always dreamed of as a thwarted, tortured adolescent. With her silky long blonde hair, pale carnation-tinted skin, full breasts and thighs and buttocks and a gentle sweetness to her face she was ideal. Yet, in spite of his adoring her, it hadn't been enough.
Now he'd lost her for good, but with that thought came the knowledge that he was free. He could have an affair, or remarry, or do whatever he wanted to, within reason. Briefly, his mind dwelt on Rita Henshaw, whom he'd hired just about the time Helga had split. She had a kind of subtle boldness to her, a slinkiness that suggested hot fucking. But long ago he'd decided to rule out any liaisons with females working at the same place he did. It was too risky, and besides, once you slept with a file clerk or secretary, she figured she had it made and didn't have to worry about doing her job. No, Rita Henshaw was hors de concours for that reason alone.
He might have revised his thinking if he could have known that Rita Henshaw, 24 and on the rebound from being jilted by a muscle-bound gymnasium instructor from a South Side high school, entertained secret fantasies in which she saw herself the helpless, but very willing captive of her handsome, mature soft-spoken boss. As a freshman at college, Rita had been a sorority pledge bound to a dominating "Big Sister" who had introduced her to the paddle and the dildo. Breaking away from lesbian supremacy in her sophomore year, she had purposely seduced her assistant English professor if only to prove that she preferred being fucked by an honest-to-goodness male instead of a simulacrum wielded by a butch dyke. But that first sadistic experience had left its indelible mark on her passionate psyche, and what she really craved was a combination of virile cocksmith and tyrannical master who would force her to lose all her inhibitions and to perform the most self-demeaning acts upon him. A few subsequent affairs had convinced her that she was a man's woman, but that the men who had thus far fucked her had lacked that mastery which she so masochistically craved. So she had transferred her burning frustrations to her unsuspecting boss, David Ainsley, with even more ardor now that her latest lover had proved to be a rather impotent dud.
His work done at last, he opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a tissue-wrapped box from Peacock's, Kristina's birthday present. It was an attractive Swiss ladies' watch. Of course, he'd have to suggest she not wear it when she played ball with the boys. And that was another problem Helga had saddled him with: having to teach Kristina the difference between being a tomboy and a young lady who shouldn't get quite so familiar with the opposite sex till she was old enough to control her own emotions. He and Kristina had never talked about sex. He'd always assumed Helga had taught the girl the rudiments of the differences between boys and girls. But from some of the broad hints old Mrs. Weidman had dropped earlier this week, Kristina would be having her first period any time now, and she certainly ought to be prepared for it so she wouldn't get hysterical when it happened. Maybe he ought to let the old housekeeper have a talk with her. He'd certainly be embarrassed to have to discuss such a thing with the girl.
With a sigh, he walked out of his office, just in time to see Rita Henshaw standing with her back to him, her right leg posed on the seat of her chair, her dark-brown skirt lofted almost to her crotch, inspecting a run in her charcoal-brown nylon hose. He couldn't help seeing what a luscious long, yet curvaceous thigh she had and a high-set, sinuous, calf whose muscles flexed entrancingly. He felt a sudden aching twinge in his balls, and forced himself to look away as he bade her good night and wished her a pleasant weekend. As the outer door closed behind him, he heard her husky, "Same to you, Mr. Ainsley." What he didn't see, of course, was her staring forlornly after him, then slipping her right hand up to her white nylon panty briefs and, closing her eyes and shivering, beginning to tickle her cunt with her forefinger as she conjured up images of his dragging her by the wrist off to bed and ordering her to strip naked and be quick about it.
David Ainsley had done a double-take at the dinner table when Kristina, blushing prettily and with eyes demurely lowered, had slipped into her chair with a whispered, "Hi, Daddy." Her brother, slyly remembering her incredible transition from tomboy to sexy young siren-and a naked one at that-had vented his admiration for her new look with a loud wolf-whistle.
"Well now, small fry, I don't recall buying you that outfit," her father had said when he'd recovered from the startling revelation of how his daughter had unexpectedly become an alluring young Lolita capable of reminding him painfully of his enforced continence the past six months.
"It-it's from Mother. The delivery man brought it this afternoon, just after I got home from school, Daddy," she quavered, nervously glancing up at him, half-afraid to mention that word which was so rarely used in this household these days.
"Oh, I see. That was nice of her," David Ainsley pursed his lips, then brightened as he reached into his lapel pocket to take out her watch. "Well, mine's something to wear too, honey, though it's certainly not so attractive. And I think you ought to save it for when you go out, like to the restaurant or a movie. You know."
Kristina hastily unwrapped the little box, opened it, then beamed with joy. "Oh, it's lovely, Daddy. Thank you ever so much! It's a super watch, and I'll be awfully careful with it, I promise. Thank you again."
"You're quite welcome. Ah, Mrs. Weidman, I see you've made her favorite brown betty and-what's this, a little birthday cake too, with thirteen candles? Well now, that was very thoughtful of you," he chuckled as the plump gray-haired housekeeper carefully set the little round white-frosted cake in front of the excited blonde teenager.
"Betcha she can't blow all the candles out on the first puff, Dad," Donald slyly volunteered, his eyes fixing on his younger sister's delightfully swelling round firm tits which the bodice of her birthday dress so snugly emphasized.
"I bet I can, too," Kristina irritatedly retorted, with an angry glance at her smirking brother.
"Okay, Kris, I'll betcha double birthday spanks you can't, how's that?" Donald Ainsley proffered with a jeering little snigger as he looked to his father for approbation.
"That's right, that's the tradition, Kristina," the latter chuckled good-naturedly. "A spank for every year of your age and one to grow on."
"Oh no!" the pretty blonde teenager breathed, furiously embarrassed. "I've never been spanked, you know that, Daddy!"
Then, as if to eliminate the threatened danger, she sucked in her breath, leaned forward and blew with all her might. Twelve of the candles flickered out, with tiny wisps of smoke rising, but the fateful thirteenth, though wavering and bending towards the level of the cake, remained steadfastly burning.
"Yahh! You lose, Krissie, double swats," her brother gleefully exclaimed.
"No, I didn't bet with you, so it doesn't count-does it, Daddy?" Tears of mortification glistened in the pretty teenager's widened dark-blue eyes.
"Technically, you're right, honey. Tell you what, I'll give you your birthday spanks myself-but it'll be private between us. That lets you out, Don," her father indulgently decreed.
"Aw, lemme watch you paddle Krissie, huh, Dad?" Donald avidly begged, and Kristina again turned imploring, humid eyes towards her handsome father.
"I said no, Don, and that's enough of that. Now, honey, are you going to let me have a piece of your birthday cake?"
"Oh, sure, Daddy-a nice big piece," she gratefully breathed.
But her brother, though discomfited by his father's refusal, maliciously persisted, " 'Course, Dad, you oughta give her, her birthday spanks on the bare so she'll really feel 'em!"
"Ohh-you-you hateful boy you!" Kristina was close to tears.
"I don't want to hear another word on the subject, young man," his father said sharply, and Donald quailed before his angry look.
They had stayed up to watch a movie on TV till ten o'clock, and then David Ainsley had said goodnight to his brash young son, who was obviously reluctant to leave the living room, still hoping he might be privileged to watch his pretty blonde sister's birthday spanking. But when the mature grass widower had irritatedly remarked that there might be someone else spanked if he didn't follow orders, Donald hastily excused himself and hurried to his room.
Kristina squirmed uneasily in her chair, eyeing her father with no little embarrassment. Gee, I never have been spanked-is he really going to do it or is he just teasing me, the way Don does? I'm sure he won 't do it hard, 'cause I've been a good girl, my school grades are fine, and even Mrs. Weidman says I help with the chores. Oh my, I'd just die if Daddy did what Don said-g-give it to me on the buh-buh-bare!
David Ainsley glanced at his wristwatch, rose with a congenial smile. "Time for bed, honey. You want to get your beauty sleep. Maybe tomorrow night we'll all take in a movie, if you like."
"T-that would be nice, D-Daddy," Kristina stammered as she meekly rose.
"Then that's what we'll do. Okay now, you get ready for bed, and I'll come in and kiss my big girl goodnight," he told her as he lit a cigarette. "You look very grownup and lovely in that getup. It was thoughtful of your mother to send it to you."
"Y-yes. D-Daddy?" she glanced nervously at him, then looked down at the floor, flushing hotly.
"What is it, honey?"
"Is-is Mother ever coming back?" she dared, in a tiny, fearful voice.
He frowned, puffed at his cigarette. "Not to stay for good, no, honey. I'm sorry. But I'm sure she'll come visit you every so often. Now you'd better get to bed."
"All-all right, Daddy. I-I'm sorry if I said something I shouldn't have." Out of both contrition and a forlorn need to be reassured and loved, she ran over to him, put her arms round him and hugged him, then tilted her face up for his kiss. His hands grasped her waist, and the startling resilience and suppleness of her burgeoning young body sent a sudden, unexpected shiver of lust through him, made him scowl at the awareness of that forbidden reaction. He kissed her on the forehead. "Now run along, honey," he said gruffly, trying to cover up the emotion she had roused. It had been much too long to have gone without feeling his prick dig to the hilt in a warm tight arden cunt, he irritatedly told himself.
After she had left the living room, he lit another cigarette and noticed that his fingers were trembling. He swore under his breath, angry with Helga for having walked out on him to leave him so unnerved. If she'd only come out and told him what she really wanted in bed, things could have been different. As it was, if this kept up, he'd have to go find himself a call girl, just to make sure he was still virile and capable. Damn Helga anyway!
As he crushed out the cigarette, David Ainsley felt himself powerfully drawn to Kristina and that silly birthday ritual. Baffled at his own furious carnal response to the girl's hugging him, he rose slowly from his chair, glancing down to find his prick in agonizedly full erection. This was crazy-what was the matter with him, anyway, thinking of a thirteen-year-old girl as if she were an available piece of tail? He'd go give her, her birthday spanks, just to prove to himself that he had complete control, the way a rational adult should have.
Meanwhile, in her bedroom, Kristina had slowly and thoughtfully taken off the pretty blue frock and the glossy petticoat, standing in bra and panties, garter belt, hose and pumps, her back turned to the door.
Clenching her thighs together as tightly as she could, the distracted blonde teenager thrust her hands behind her, trying to push his face away, gasping faintly, "Nno-you-you mustn't do that, D-Daddy! Puh-please, no!" But by this time the lure of Kristina's satiny, palpitating flesh, warm and crimsoned from the spanking, the scent of her delicate femininity, the pentup agony of his long fuckless nights, had pushed her father over the edge of rationality. Keeping her pinned down with his left arm, he now thrust out his tongue and lingeringly rubbed it over her contracting, quivering bare butt cheeks.
"Oooh-w-what are you d-doing to me-oh it tickles so-Daddy-no-puh-please pull my p-panties back up-oh, don't-" she tremulously begged.
Suddenly, he rolled her over onto her back, and the frantic young girl tried to clap both hands over the pink, temptingly fleshy lips of her virgin cunt. The tangled panties round her slim ankles acted like a fetter, partly immobilizing her. Now, his eyes blazing, David Ainsley grasped her ankles in both hands, bowed his head, and applied a passionate, wet kiss on the very center of her soft twitching cuntal lips.
Daddy's kissing my little spot-ohhh, I never dreamed he'd do a thing like that-oh, I'm going to faint-the tickling's driving me just crazy-my bottom stings and smarts from where he spanked me, and now-ohh, I feel so strange, it doesn't hurt, I can feel my hips jerking, as if-ohh no, it can't-as if I was trying to push-to push my spot right up to him to kiss it more and make it well! Ohhhh-
"Sweet little Krissie, don't be frightened, darling, I'm just kissing your darling little pussy to apologize for spanking your lovely bottom," David Ainsley gasped. He was beside himself as his eyes feasted on the delicious miracle of his young daughter's near nakedness, at the wet, twitching, pouting cuntal lips framed by the sparse dark-golden curls that so lightly fleeced her virgin aperture, at the spasmodic flexions that shiveringly rippled along her writhing thighs, at the tumultuous heaving of her firm round young tits straining against the sheer nylon bra.
Face twisted to one side, eyes closed so as to hide this shameful abandon of herself, Kristina had pressed her fists hard against her tits, flattening their exuberant apple-rounds. "My p-pussy?" she echoed, the word being exquisitely new to her, and her cheeks flamed.
"Yes, darling, your sweet pink little pussy-does it feel nice when I kiss it? Does it make you forget the spanking, Krissie?" he hoarsely insisted.
"Oooh-y-yes, D-Daddy-ahh-but-but you shouldn't-oh, please, I-I shouldn't be n-naked like this for-for you to-to see me-ohhhhh, Daddy-" she moaned deliriously, writhing convulsively as his tongue flicked over the apex of her cunt, brushing the dainty nub of her clit and sending violent sensual waves of intoxicating excitement deep into her innermost feminine nerves.
Now, shifting himself on his knees, he had forced her knees back up against her panting young tits, and, whisking off the tangled little panties, bowed his head against the gaping, moist, palpitating coral-tinted crevice of her distended young cunt. He applied a long sucking kiss, then furled his tongue all over the rims of the labia majora, then brushed her clit, then gouged the tip of his tongue against the closely set, delicate petals of her maiden vulva.
Beside herself, reeling under the lascivious tumult of her first-time-awakened, budding senses, Kristina moaned and sobbed, distraught, forgetting the shamefulness and the potent taboo against such surrender to her very own father. "Ohh, Daddy-ahh-ohhh it's so exciting when you do that with your tongue-ohhh Daddy, I can't stand it, it tickles so-mm-ahh-ohh Lordie-ouuuooahhhhh! Oh, something's happening to me-whatever are you doing to my p-pussy to make me feel this way-ohh, Daddy-ohh Lordie-ahh-ouuu-aiiiiiii!! " Her body leaped and threshed, her hips jerking wildly from side to side as David Ainsley, stealthily rubbing his bulging crotch with his left hand to quicken his own maddened fulfillment, kept his right palm pressed against the upturned back of one nylon-sheathed thigh. He quickened the prodding of his tongue all over his daughter's twitching, moistening cunt as her feet kicked frantically in the air and her face twisted back and forth, contorted with the sweet delirium of her first hot, total cum.
"Jeez!" Donald Ainsley was whispering to himself, dazed by the unleashed lust of the scene he had just witnessed, sinking down on his knees, his face damp with lust-sweat, his hand stickied with his own violent outpouring in tribute to the Lolita-magic of his exquisitely awakened younger sister. Dazed though he was, there nonetheless began to burgeon in his inventive young mind the inspiration which would enable him not only to force Kristina to accord him the same libidinous delights she had just surrendered to her own father, but even more erotic gratification to his precociously virile young prick.
CHAPTER THREE
There had been a strained silence between David Ainsley and his blonde daughter all this Saturday. At the breakfast table, she had blushed and looked down at the floor when he had seated himself and thanked the old German housekeeper for the piping hot plate of scrambled eggs and bacon and the side of dark whole wheat toast, just the way he liked it. Young Donald, joining them a few minutes later, had sent his sister a knowing, covert glance, but made no comment on the burning secret he had learned last night through his improvised peephole.
That afternoon, finding himself alone for a moment with Kristina, her father had awkwardly tried to apologize. "Honey, about last night-I don't know what got into me. Shall we forget it ever happened and will you let me apologize for embarrassing you so much?" The blonde teenager, a wave of hot red color flooding her charming face, had only nodded and gasped, "S-sure, Daddy."
"Some day, I'll talk to you about your growing up and what you have to know about what it'll mean, honey. Now then, are we all set for the movie tonight?"
"Uh huh, I want to go, Daddy," she had stammered.
Before their supper of Swiss steak, salad and strawberry shortcake, Kristina had diligently restyled her honey-gold hair, unraveling the pigtails and combing her hair out, then letting it flow free to her shoulders in back, and keeping it in place with a little silver barrette. Then again she put on the gift outfit her mother had sent yesterday and studied herself in the mirror.
Oh my yes, I do look lots older this way! Grownup enough to have a fellow. I wonder if Don has a girlfriend-I hope he treats her nicer than he does me. Poor D-Daddy, he looked so unhappy this afternoon-I still don't know why he got so mad at me and paddled me on the b-bare-oh, and-and then kissing my p-pussy the way he did-but I won't ever tell-I-I know it's not nice-but he's my Daddy, he's all I've got now that Mother's gone for good-gosh, I wish she were here so I could ask her about last night. It-it scared me so at first, and he was starting to hurt when he spanked me-and then-then when he k-kissed me ... t-there, I felt so strange, I was all hot and tickly between my legs-gosh, I wonder why he wanted to do that to me and why-why I-I even liked it?
They had gone to see "Jaws", and Kristina, seated at her father's left, had gripped his hand and squeezed it hard during the battle with the great white shark, squirming fitfully in her seat from the terrifying realistic drama. David Ainsley couldn't help thinking of the days of his own adolescence, when he'd dated girls and taken them to a movie and held hands and done a little mild necking. His daughter's stifled little squeals and gasps of excitement as the movie reached its powerful climax made him close his eyes and think of that plump red-haired waitress, Marian, who had hauled his ashes for the first time and taught him how thrilling it could be to thrust a hard prick deep into the tight moist soft cuntal sheath of a willing female. Damn it, he was getting horny all the time now without Helga. The two-timing bitch had really left him high and dry, to the point where he had actually gammed his own innocent little girl. He'd have to do something about getting Helga's replacement, even on a temporary basis, and damn fast before something far worse happened. Kristina was growing up much too fast. He glanced carefully towards her, and his eyes widened to notice, close up, how very mature she looked with her hair in this new, pretty style.
Alone in her bedroom, half an hour before midnight, Kristina was pensively undressing. She didn't feel sleepy at all. Mostly, it was worry about how sad and unhappy Daddy had looked tonight. She could tell he was just dreadfully ashamed for what he'd one last night, but she didn't really blame him. Things had been so strained and different since Mother had gone away. In a way, she wished he'd come in and visit with her right now and maybe tell her some of the things a grownup girl ought to know and what was wrong and what was right. Not that, up till now, she had thought very much about going out with any boy. But maybe, now that she had these cute new clothes and had changed her hairdo, she ought to start thinking about not playing ball and being just a playtime pal in the neighborhood.
She had just taken off her petticoat and reached back to unhook her bra, standing before her mirror in panties, garter belt, hose and pumps, when the door silently opened and Donald slipped in, closing and then locking the door behind him. He was wearing just his pajama pants and slippers, and he clutched something in his right hand as he stared hungrily at his half-naked younger sister.
Kristina whirled, eyes widening, a hand to her mouth and at once huddled her other arm over the delectable pink-sheened apple-firm rounds of her virgin tits. "Ohh! Donald Ainsley, you get out of my room, you horrid boy you-right this minute, or I'll tell Daddy!"
He shook his head, grinning nastily. "Uh uh, Krissie, I don't think you'll do that."
"Why not, I'd like to know?" she panted, shrinking back against the chiffonier, her face flooded with the blushes of outraged modesty.
He shrugged. "Oh, 'cause I saw how you and Dad carried on last night. And if you tell him I came in here now, I might just ask him why he pulled your pants off and then started kissin' that sexy little pussy of yours-he could get into awful trouble, doin' a thing like that!"
"Ohhhhhh!" she was scandalized into speechlessness, staring at him as if he were the devil incarnate.
" 'Course, if you act nice, I won't tell anybody, not even Dad," he slyly added with a salacious wink as he moved closer to the quivering, half-nude blonde youngster.
Not sure whether her father was actually going to do what he'd said, the ingenuous blonde teenager waited, glancing at her mirror and blushing vividly. If it hadn't been for the pigtails, she wouldn't have recognized herself in the lithe, provocatively accentuating bra and panty set, especially with those diaphanous nylons gracing her long lovely legs and the piquant, coquettish tabs of the garter belt clinging against the pink satiny smoothness of her thighs, So bemused was she, indeed, that she scarcely heard his soft knock at her door. David Ainsley entered and stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened and the aching, gnawing torment of his prick was instantly redoubled as he saw the saucy jutting rounds of Kristina's succulent butt snugged out like a sheer second skin by the tight little white panties, then the pink flesh of her lithe young thighs flexing and quivering, as the rippling tremors of her virgin flesh traveled down her nylon-sheathed sinuous, agilely muscled calves.
She whirled, a hand at her throat, her mouth gaping in furious embarrassment to see him standing on the threshold staring fixedly at her. "Oh-D-Daddy-Iohhh!" she faintly gasped.
"It's all right, honey," he uttered an unconvincing chuckle. "Let's get this silly business over with, and then you can go to bed."
"You-you mean-you-you want toto sp-spank me, D-Daddy?" she stammered in a tremulous little voice.
David Ainsley's prick seemed to grow even more agonizedly rigid, and his balls ached with the torment of long-endured deprivation as he approached the scantily clad youngster. There was a buzzing in his ears. He seemed again to hear his wife's withering comment on how boring going to bed with him had been. In that instant, it was almost as if Helga herself stood before him in the privacy of her boudoir, denying him entry into it as into her tight, hot cunt. And so, with a stifled gasp of overwhelming lust, he seized his daughter's slim wrist and, moving quickly over to her bed, seated himself on the edge as he pulled the startled, incredulous blonde teenager over his lap.
"Oh please-no, d-don't-oh D-Daddy, I-I don't want you to!" she timidly protested, twisting her crimsoned face around to him, her long, nylon-sheathed legs sporadically kicking in the air as she tried to wriggle free.
The glossy sheen of her bare thighs above the gossamer nylons, the squirmings and contractions of her jouncy, panty-snugged behind, the delicious aura of feminine helplessness at bay, all combined to drive David Ainsley over the brink of propriety. His left arm curving round her slim waist, he ignored Kristina's now wistfully sobbing pleas as his eyes fixed on the impudently upreared globes of her well developed bottom. He pressed his right palm over the huddling cheeks as if to intimate to her that her plea for mercy had been rejected. Symbolically, just as Helga had rejected him, this became a kind of subconscious, vindictive vengeance born of lust.
"I'll count them for you, honey," his voice was tight and choked as the winsome, half-naked young girl continued to squirm and twist frantically over his lap. Tightening his grip round her waist, he raised his right hand and brought it down smartly on the very center of her right buttock. "That's one."
Donald Ainsley had gone to his room and got into his pajamas to be ready for bed. But, hearing noises from Kristina's adjoining room, he moved towards the little peephole in the wall and, holding his breath, stared avidly. He was just in time to see his father raise his hand for the second spank, then bring it down crisply on the girl's left bottom-cheek and call out, "That makes two, honey."
"Oh boy, I hope he takes her pants down," he muttered to himself, his left hand slipping to the fly of his pajama pants and drawing out his stiffening prick.
Oh this is just awful! I feel so ashamed, having Daddy see me undressed like this-and if Don ever finds out, he'll just about tease me to death-ouch, that hurt! I don't understand why Daddy looks so mad, as if I'd done something naughty-when he came in, he was staring at me as if he wanted to punish me good and hardooooooooh, that one stung lots! I don't want to cry, Don might hear me, but Daddy's so strong, he's holding me down so tight I can't get loose-ouch-and now his hand's pressing down on my butt where he just sp-spanked-and he's keeping it there-
Fists clenched, eyes misty with tears, face flaming, the honey-haired teenager stoically tightened all her muscles and tried to submit herself passively so it would be over the boner. Also, instinctively, she clenched her thighs together to try to diminish the immodest display she knew she was making of herself.
"That's five, honey, just eight more and one to grow on," David Ainsley declared, his voice curiously hoarsened and taut as his eyes laved the quivering, nubile body stretched across his lap. His prick had swollen enormously, and by now the reiterated aching torment was almost unbearable. And into his mind, too, there had come a sudden, startling recollection. Perhaps if he had done this to Helga, but for real, when she'd announced she was leaving him, he might have kept her.
His eye glued to the peephole, his left hand feverishly stroking his tautened prick, Kristine's brother followed this incredible scene with breathless suspense. He saw how his sister had crossed her slim ankles, and how her pretty new pumps were waggling nervously as she abandoned herself to this humiliating yet singularly titillating penance. For her father's right palm still continued to press down on the crevice between her saucily contoured butt cheeks, where it had last fallen, forcing her cuntal mound down against his lap till she could not help feeling the unusual protuberance which thrust up against the fly of his trousers towards her tender virgin cunt.
Why doesn't he get it over with-oh my gosh, he-he's feeling me up, yes he is-now his hand's rubbing over my h-hind end-oh I'm going to faint, I'm so embarrassed-and something-something's p-poking me between the legs-every time I move, I can feel it rub against my-my s-spot!
His face flushed, his temples pounding with the sudden swirling lust that his brooding memories of Helga and the sight of his budding daughter's provocative undress had aroused, David Ainsley lifted his right hand and delivered two sonorous smacks, one to the center of each tensing buttock. "Six and seven," he announced, his voice noticeably thick with his almost uncontrollable passion. Kristina gasped aloud at the sting and salacious sound of each harsh slap, and wriggled uneasily across his lap. For her sense of security, the posture of being over his lap and stretched out along the edge of the bed was relatively comforting, but it was also extremely disconcerting to her girlish modesty. For now, even as she shifted herself, she felt the unmistakable prodding of her father's rigid prick gouging against the soft plump mound of her virgin cunt which was concealed by only the thickness of the filmy nylon panties.
Nervously, she glanced back at him again, biting her lip to see that his right palm still lingered on the resilient left summit of her behind where it had last fallen. "Ohh g-gosh, Daddy!" she breathed, "this is just awful-please get it over with!"
"Don'tcha do it, Dad, whale her cute ass hard and pull her pants down," Donald Ainsley muttered to himself, breathing harshly now as his frigging fingers drew his pulsating prick towards the savage ecstasy of hot ejaculation.
David Ainsley's palm moved off his daughter's bottom, brushing down over the base to rest for an instant on her naked pink-sheened thigh. The contact was electrifying for him. His prick throbbed and jerked convulsively, and he blinked his eyes several times as the lewd images of sexual coercion leaped into his mind. Tightening his lips, he applied three quick but nonetheless briskly sonorous slaps all over the upturned, quivering butt, calling out, "Eight, nine and ten, Kristina."
"Oooh! Oh Daddy, it stings, it really does-please finish it!" she gasped, again glancing back at him, her little fists tightly clenched on each side of her crimsoned face.
"Oh come on, youngster," he desperately tried to bring levity into this nerve-wracking, prick-hardening scene, "it can't hurt all that much. If I really was going to punish you and spank hard, you'd know the difference. I'll bet your bottom isn't even red!"
"Oh it is, I know it is, Daddy," Kristina-ingenuously protested, feverishly rubbing her crossed ankles together and glancing back at him. Her nervous shiftings over his lap proved to be like a spark struck in dry straw. His aching prickhead rubbed vigorously against the plump fig of her virgin cunt, and the sensation finally overpowered his already wavering self-control.
"I'll prove you're wrong, Krissie," he said thickly, and, as his left arm increased its pinioning cling round her supple waist, he inserted his right hand under the waistband of the filmy panties and gave them a brisk downward tug.
Ohhhh he's pulling my panties down, he can see my bare seat! Oh, I'm so ashamed, I just want to die-oh how could Daddy do such an awful thing to me-I'm too old to be spanked anyhow, and now-ohhhh, he's pulled them down to my ankles, and he's got his big hand right on my b-bare s-seat! Oh I'm going to cry in a second, I feel so awful, I don't dare move, 'cause it r-rubs my s-spot when I do right over his lap-
"Gosh! He went and did it!" Donald Ainsley panted to himself. Pinching the reddened glans of his tortured prick with left thumb and forefinger, he stared incredulously at his sister's squirming, huddling, vividly reddened naked ass.
"Why, it's only a little pink, honey, that's all. Now I'll give you the last spanks, and it'll be over," her father announced. Lifting his right hand, he dealt her wriggling bare bottom three quick noisy slaps, then, lifting his hand again and halting it a moment, descended it right over the sinuous, shadowy crevice between her crimsoned butt cheeks. "And one to grow on. There, now, it's all over."
"Oww-ouu-oohh! Ohh D-Daddy, it hurts, it does-oh you were mean to me, I'm so ashamed!" Kristina looked round, tears running down her flushed cheeks. Actually, the spanking didn't hurt too much, it was true, but her immature feminine nerves were frayed by the prolongation of this childish ritual and then the shocking, unexpected descent of her last veil of virginal modesty. She plunged both hands back to her naked ass, sniffling dolefully, kicking up one pumpshod foot, then digging the toe back down into the covers of the bed.
"I'm sorry, kitten, I'll kiss it and make it well," David Ainsley said contritely, keeping his left arm clinging round her bare waist. Then, to Kristina's utter consternation, he bent his head and pressed his lips along the sinuous rosy-ambery groove between her smarting, reddened satiny butt cheeks.
Ooooohhh, he-he's kissing my s seat-it feels so funny, it tickles, I'm getting the funniest feeling in my little sp-spot-it's as if I had to go to the bathroom and make peepee-my spot's getting wet, and it tickles and I can't hold still, I have to wiggle over Daddy's lap-ohh my, I can feel something big and hard rubbing right against my s-spot-whatever is it?
"Wh-what do you mean?" she quavered in a tiny, fearful voice.
"Don't get scared, I don't wanna give you your birthday swats-Dad did a good enough job on that," he snickered. "I just want to cuddle and feel you up some, 'n kiss'n pet, see?"
"Ohh! B-but I'm your own sister! That-that's awful, to think about a thing like that!" she breathed, the blushes spreading now to her dainty little ears as her arm protectively tightened over her tumultuously heaving tits.
"You're a square, Krissie! Long as I don't get you in trouble, it won't do any harm at all, and you'll sure have lots of fun. Why, Jack Murview over at school, he's a junior, and he and his sister even fuck and nobody knows about it."
"F-fuck?" she echoed, her eyes huge and questioning.
"Yeah!" he murmured huskily. "You mean you don't know what that is, Krissie? Hell, I thought for sure Dad was going to do it to you last night when he took your pants off and started fooling around. If you'd seen how big his cock was, you sure as hell would have figured he'd do it to you, too!"
"Ohh-you-don't you say nasty things about Daddy-you're just mean, you always have been to me, and you know it, Donald Ainsley," Kristina valiantly defended her father.
"Okay, okay," he hastily amended, moving still closer to her and forcing a wheedling smile to his smirking face. "I like Dad as much as you do. Only, you're so cute'n sexy, I wanna show you how to have some fun. And I know what to do, so you won't get into any trouble. Now if you played around with some guy at school, you might get a baby or something, see? But you and I can have a swell time, and it won't hurt a thing."
"I-I don't know what you-you want to do to me," she quavered.
"C'mon, let's lie down on the bed and I'll kiss'n feel you up. You know," he bragged, "I already fucked a girl, and she wasn't half as pretty as you are, Krissie, that's a fact."
"Wh-who do you mean?"
"Oh, old June Tomlinson, that's who. Cy and I, we both fucked her just last Saturday, and that's a fact, Krissie. Wanna see what it's like, huh?"
As she stared incredulously at him, her eyes fell on the stiff projection at the fly of his pajama pants, for Donald Ainsley was in ferocious erection by now. Intercepting her glance, he looked down at himself, then nodded with a leer: "Yeah, betcha I'm as big as Dad is. Wanna have me show you?"
"Ohhhh! That-that's d-dirty-" her voice was choked and trembling.
"Aw, c'mon now, what's dirty about it?" he grumbled defensively. "You didn't gripe, I noticed, when Dad's cock was big as a tentpole rubbing your cute little pussy last night-"
"You-how-how could you see and know all this, Donald Ainsley?" she suddenly gasped, as the belated reaction of recognition slashed through her ingenuous mind.
"There's a crack in the wall, goes through my room and yours, that's how, Krissie. I've seen you lots of times peeled down like you are now."
"Ohh, you-you-" she burst into sudden hysterical tears and struck out at him with her free hand. Agilely, he grasped her wrist and pulled her up against him, his left arm clamping round her satiny smooth waist, then bent his head and kissed her on her left nipple, taking the dainty coral tidbit into his mouth and sucking at it.
"Stop that-I don't want you to-oh, you awful, hateful boy you! You go away right now, you hear?" she sobbed, trying to wrest herself free and slapping at him. But Donald Ainsley was so feverishly aroused by the feel of his sister's naked flesh that all moral scruples had been dispersed. Thrusting his right hand's contents into the pocket of his pajama pants, he used both hands to grip her wrists and pull her onto the bed.
"Noo-stop it-let go of me-I'll scream, Daddy'll hear," she gasped as she tried to jerk her wrists free and wriggle off the bed.
Shifting his hold of her wrists to his left hand, delving into his pocket to remove the object he had concealed and to shove it under her pillow, Donald Ainsley now yanked down his pajama pants, tugged them off and flung them onto the floor, and Kristina's eyes fixed on the rigid, taut-skinned projection of his furiously swollen young prick. Her mouth gaped in stupefaction at what seemed to her to be its enormity and its pulsating life, particularly in the throbbing, angrily reddened glans.
"It-it's so-b-big!" she whispered, awestricken in this her first awareness of the male sexual weapon.
"Sure it is, Krissie, June liked it lots and you will too. Now quit fightin' me, I won't hurt you, honest. Just lie back 'n lemme feel you up and kiss you, the way I did June. like I said, you're lots cuter than that old bag," he wheedled.
Panting, trembling violently, lying on her back, her apple-firm tits rising and falling with erratic rhythm, her honey-gold hair spread out on the pillow like a silken mantle, Kristina indeed looked far older than her just-reached thirteen years. Crouching on his knees over her, his hands still gripping her wrists, he bent down and kissed her other nipple, this time flicking the tip of his tongue against the sensitive coral nugget.
"Oooh-d-don't-please-you-you have to get out of here-if-if baddy heard you and came in, I-I'd just die," she pleaded, but in a husky, tremulous whisper that already told her precociously oversexed brother that she was not about to shriek for help and precipitate a violent domestic scene.
"He won't, he's asleep-I heard him snoring downstairs before I came in here, Krissie. Now, you gonna be a nice girl 'n lemme show you how much fun we can have? I promise I won't hurt you, and I'll teach you what it's all about, see?" he cajoled. Then again, putting his lips to her left nipple, he sucked at it, flicked it with his tongue, and lightly nibbled at it with his teeth.
Oh this is just awful-whatever am I going to do? I don't want Daddy to know awful licking-but if I don't, he says he'll tell Daddy what he saw him-us-d-do last night-oh golly, I don't know what to do-and-and he hasn't hurt me yet-it felt so funny when he-he put his mouth on my bare bobbies-and I can see that great big red thing sticking up between his legs-I never knew boys' things were that way-ohhh, now he's kissing my tummy-my own brother-what did he shove under my pillow, I wonder-oooh, his-his b-big t-thing is shaking and moving every time he moves over me-it's so long and hard and red-
"Now, does that hurt, Krissie?" her brother hoarsely demanded as he raised his head to stare at her flushed, contorted face, still pinning both her wrists beyond her head.
"N-no-" she grudgingly admitted, her face flooded with scarlet and her eyes averted, "but I don't want you to be here-"
"Can that crap, Sis," he impatiently broke in, "'less you wanna have me tell Dad what I saw you both doing, see? Now if you act nice, I'll show you how we can have some real hot fun. And I toldja, I won't hurt you. Well, you gonna do what I want or do I tell Dad and maybe the kids at school?"
Oh this is just terrible! I'd just die if anybody knew what Daddy did to me last night! And Donald's so nasty, I know, I just know he'd blab-I guess I have to do what he wants, but I'm sort of scared-he acts so fierce and mean now-just the way Daddy did when he was sp-spanking me and then-ohhh, Donald's thing is getting ever so much bigger-I can't believe it-I didn't think he went out with girls yet and I wonder what it was he did with that June Tomlinson-
"Well?" he repeated. "You gonna be nice and lemme show you, or do I tell?" I-I guess I better let him-oh that awful boy, to look through a crack in the wall and watch me take my clothes off-but if he did that, he must have seen Daddy spank and-and kiss me-d-down there-oh Lordie, I better let him do what he wants-and-and anyhow, maybe I can find out why Daddy wanted to treat me like that-
"All-all right," she closed her eyes and nodded faintly. "Only, don't h-hurt me, Donald. I ... I'm just a girl, and you're older'n I am."
"Sure, Krissie," he hoarsely acquiesced, "I'll make it real nice for you, you'll see. Now lift your butt up so I can slip your pants off."
"Ohh!" Her eyes opened, very wide and frantic. "Do-do you have to?"
"Sure I do, Krissie, if I'm gonna fuck you, I hafta get my cock in yer cute pussy, see? C'mon, you promised!" he urged.
Biting her lips, closing her eyes again, the half nude teenager mutely and docilely arched up her bottom, and Donald Ainsley, with trembling fingers, snugged down the little white nylon panties and drew them off her pumpshod feet. Then, almost as an afterthought, he removed the pumps and dropped them gently to the floor, leaving his blonde nubile sister in the provocative bed-costume of garter belt and nylon hose.
His eyes at once devoured the soft pink conch-shell of her virgin cunt. "Jeez, Krissie, you got the sweetest pussy-honest, it's cuter'n June's," he thickly muttered.
"Did you like what Dad did to you last night, huh, Krissie?" he now demanded. Twisting her scarlet face to one side, covering it with a trembling hand, the naked young girl gasped, "Oh, pi-please, D-Donald, do what you want-and-and don't talk like that-please-"
"Okay, you liked it, you know you did, baby," he grinned wolfishly. "Anyhow, I'm gonna do it too, work'n get your pussy all hot for a fuckin', see?" With this, emulating his father, the lanky youth bowed his head, his hands gripping Kristina's nylon-sheathed knees to keep them widely parted and prevent her remonstrance, and then applied a long smacking kiss on her quivering pink cuntal lips.
"Ooooh!" she gasped, unable to prevent the sporadic jerking of her lithe hips as the salacious kiss suddenly wakened the vague, tantalizing sensations which had so dazed her last night as to harbor no hostility towards her passion-driven father.
"Just relax, Krissie, you're gonna love it, watch'n see," the grinning boy boastfully predicted. His prick bobbed and jerked, tilting up, its reddened glans swollen and exacerbated as his gloating, triumphant knowledge that his young sister had capitulated to his lusts titillated all his precociously keened sensuality. It had been much too quick and furtive with June. This would be unspeakably more exciting and prolonged, he resolved.
Once again, his mouth fused on her cuntal core, sucking at the pouting, delicately formed lips of her maiden vulva, as his hands glided up and down her quivering long sleek thighs, caressing their lower columns and reveling in the sensuous feel of the sheer clinging nylon, ascending to the soft slightly moist quivering satiny in-sides.
Oh my goodness, I can't believe how-how g-gentle Donald's being to me-my own brother k-kissing my p-pussy and-and feeling my I-legs-ohhh, I've got the funniest tickling between my legs, even more than with D-Daddy-what does it all mean? I-I don't think I ought to be letting my own brother do-do things like this to me-b-but I can't help it-I don't want him to blab about Daddy and me or worry poor Daddy by saying he was peeking in on us-oooh, besides-it-it feels so funny, all over ... my ... boobies ... a ... are starting to tickle, too, r-right at the tips-oh my gracious, now he's putting his tongue into my pussy-
"Oh don't do that, Donald-oh my Lordie-oooh!" she squealed, as his rapacious young tongue goaded the urethral slit, then nudged the tiny little bud of her clitoris. Her knees rose up, spreading widely, and she thrust down one soft trembling hand towards his head to restrain his obscene yet strangely stirring brotherly homage to her tender virgin cunt.
"Shh, don't yell like that, you'll wake
Dad," her brother cautioned, with a nervous glance toward the locked door. "Now, it's not hurtin' you any, is it?"
"N-n-b-but you oughtn't-oh, I feel so ashamed, letting you g-get in bed with me all n-naked-oh Donald, that's enough now, please go-go away, please?"
"Uh uh," he grinned maliciously, his face reddened, his prick throbbing ferociously. "Not till you lemme fuck your pussy with my cock. Then I'll go, okay?"
"I-I don't kn-know what you mean by f-f-fuck-" she quavered, lowering her eyes as new, even more furious blushes suffused her charmingly distraught face. Her soft little hand had edged over the moist twitching grotto of her cunt to fend off his further audacities, her other arm still covering her face to hide herself in her genuine virginal shame and embarrassment.
"That's what I'm gonna show you, Krissie. Only you gotta be worked up more, any guy who goes with a broad knows that," Donald Ainsley bragged out of his one-time wisdom.
Then, crawling forward a little astride her, and bending his head down to mouth her nipples, he ordered, "Now, stick out your hand and have a good feel of my cock, Krissie, so you know what it's like!"
Still keeping one arm covering her blushing face, the petty, naked youngster reached her other hand out gingerly to encounter the hot rigidity of his prick, and instantly gasped, "Oh my! It's so big-and it-it jumps around when I touch it!"
"Yeah," he gritted his teeth, "that's 'cause I wanna fuck your pussy so bad, Krissie, just the way I'll bet Dad did last night!"
"Ohhh!" she lifted her head, consternated, "you-you mustn't say awful things like that, D-Donald! that's not right!"
"Well, I betcha it's true. Hey, if you don't believe me, ask him yourself," he slyly insinuated, then again began to kiss and suck her panting apple-round tits, his hands cupping their undercurves to feed them to his avid lips. "G'wan, squeeze and rub my cock some, Krissie, till I tell you to stop! You gettin' hot any now?"
The scarlet-faced naked blonde teenager did not know what to reply. Coerced by fear of her brother's artful blackmail but also as much as by a mountingly feverish curiosity to learn the meaning of her inexplicable submission to her father's startling overtures, Kristina had indeed begun to shiver and quiver as her brother's lips and hands stirred new sensations in her virgin, not yet awakened flesh.
As his lips continued to brush over her panting young tits and chest and waist, Kristina clutched her brother's prick, spanning it with her palm, then gingerly lowering her little hand, her fingertips convulsively pressing it and thereby learning its taut, bulging, hot dimensions. With a groan, Donald twisted himself away, panting, "That's enough now! Now I'm gonna fuck your pussy good, honey!"
Reaching under the pillow, he drew out a glossy white condom, which he had come upon some weeks ago in their father's study desk, and began to fit it along his aching prick, while Kristina, her face lifted, stared incredulously. "W-what's that?" she at last timidly asked.
"Boy, are you square, Krissie! That's so's when I fuck your pussy, you won't get a baby or anything, see? Now I'm gonna get on top of you and push it into your cute pussy. You put your arms and legs around me and hold on tight, get it?"
She had gone too far across her Rubicon of carnal initiation to turn back now, and so she nodded, twisting her face quickly to one side and closing her eyes. Slowly, Donald lowered himself over her, and she felt the sheathed rigidity of his prick prodding against the soft pink entryway of her maiden cunthole. "Ooooh!" she gasped, as a feverish tickling attacked the twitching lips of her besieged young cunt. Suddenly afraid and yet at the same time secretly eager to learn what these incredible new feelings portended, she locked her arms round her brother's wiry shoulders, her stockinged heels stiffening and digging against the rumpled covers of her bed as she readied herself for the unknown.
"Now it shouldn't hurt much, honest-you never did this before, didja, Krissie?" he whispered, a flicker of remorse stirring in him at the last rational moment.
"Nooo! Of course I haven't you big stupid-ohhh-ohhh-you-I can feel your pushing-it-it into mee-ooooh, Donald, it does hurt, just a little-oh my goodness-ahhh-Donald-no, I don't want you to-please-ohhh, stop-"
Her voice rose shrilly as she felt his prickhead rasp against the thin, resisting membrane of her young cherry, and she stiffened, now more fearful than curious. But her brother clamped his palm over her mouth and hissed, "I'll do it quick, then it'll be fine, you'll see, honey-now don't yell, or Dad'll hear-I'm gonna do it now, honey-there-ahh-ohh, Gawd, I can feel it goin' into your tight hot li'l pussy Krissie honey-ohh, is it ever good!"
Thanks to Kristina's athletic prowess as a tomboy, her hymen had been pierced at Donald's first energetic thrust. Now only a sudden fierce little twinge of pain accompanied her transition from innocent girlhood to unvirgined female. As she felt her brother's prick gouge inside her to the very hilt, she had uttered a stifled little cry, her eyes opening and fixing questioningly on his contorted, flushed face. Her fingernails dug spasmodically into his sinewy shoulders, and then, as if tutored by age-old instinct, her stockinged legs had flung round his flexing thighs as she arched to him, all her being concentrated on the blazing new sensation that had penetrated her innermost vitals and taught her at last what fucking was.
Ohhh Donald's t-thing is all the way inside my pussy-now I know what Mother meant when she said she wanted me to grow up and be a woman 'cause I am now-oh, is this what Daddy really wanted to do to me last night? I do so wish it had been his c-cock inside my little pussy, oh yes I do-but I don't dare tell him or Donald either! Ooooh, it-it doesn't hurt so much now, and I can feel Donald shoving back and forth inside of my pussy, and his hands are squeezing my boobies-and now he's kissing me on the mouth-oh, my, he's so excited, and he's swinging himself up and down on me, I can feel and see him-oooooh, it tickles so inside my pussy, I just can't stand it-he's pushing in and out of me so fast it takes my breath away-
Donald Ainsley's hands had slipped under his sister's jouncy pink-satiny bottom as, gripping the palpitating, resilient cheeks, he steered himself furiously back and forth with long hard thrusts, grinding his teeth to hold back the savage, bubbling waves of cum all he could. His mouth came down hard on hers, and Kristina moaned, arching to him as her young senses began to swirl into utter chaotic abandon. Her dainty coral nipples had hardened and darkened with her first tumescence. Now they scraped his heaving chest as he hastened his fucking pace, casting all concern for her to the winds. Then, with a sobbing cry, he felt himself explode deep inside her churning sheath, and lay sprawled over her, mashing down her panting firm tits with his shuddering chest.
Kristina whimpered softly. She had no more control over her young flesh. Churning tides, glowing and clamorous, seethed inside her deflorated cunt, and her buttocks rubbed to and fro against the bedcovers, black spots danced before her dilated, humid eyes. She was hardly conscious that her long, lovely, nylon-sheathed legs were tightly wrapped round his bottom, or that her fingernails had scraped his shoulder blades nearly raw in that frenetic moment of volcanic release when orgasm had come upon her and made her, indeed, the woman Helga Ainsley had predicted she would be. But even her own doting mother couldn't have dreamed that it would take place just one day after that fateful birthday package!
"Ohhh, Jeez, you were terrific, Krissie honey," vaguely, as in a dream, she heard her brother gasp. She felt him pull out of her, and the aching voice inside her twitching young cunt seemed suddenly torturing, as if she longed to remain in that exquisite, salacious state of carnal cohesion with his hard young prick burrowed to its utmost deep inside her quaking cuntal sheath.
He knelt up, staring hungrily down at her still quivering naked body, accentuated in that delightful nubile satiny pinkness by the garter belt and nylons. "See? Wasn't it nice for you, Krissie?" he anxiously demanded, suddenly contrite to see the slight smear of hymeneal blood which signified her maiden loss.
Kristina couldn't trust herself to speak.
There were too many thoughts and emotions coursing through her wakened psyche. In reaction, she burst into muffled sobs, turning her face to one side, then suddenly covering her cunt with a trembling hand.
"I'll sponge you off, it'll be okay, honey," he worriedly offered, getting off the bed and hurrying to her bathroom to dampen a hand towel and gently mop her cunt.
"Sure you're okay, Krissie?" he lingered, now rueful, as if to verify the Latin proverb that after coitus, all animals are sad. But perhaps, aware of the enormity of his act in fucking his own young sister, he was apprehensive that she might denounce his act to their father.
"Uh huh," she nodded wanly. "Just you go, Donald. Please. I-I won't tell Daddy, you don't have to worry any."
"Yeah-thanks, honey. Gee, I'll make it up to you. You were swell, lots better'n June, honest. Well, see you tomorrow, huh, Sis?" Carefully unlocking the door and opening it to peer warily down the darkened hallway, he crept back to his own room.
In the darkness, her naked body still quivering from sensual aftermath, Kristina Ainsley sighed disconsolately, put her soft hand to her cunt and began to stroke it lightly, as if trying to determine whether what had happened had noticeably altered her. The delicious tickling sensation gradually returned, and she spread her thighs, raised her knees, closed her eyes, as she whispered to herself, "Ooooh, it feels so nice-oh, Daddy, I wished you'd done it to me instead of Donald-oh, Daddy darling, maybe doing it to me'd have made you happier!"
CHAPTER FOUR
It was the Monday after Easter, and Kristina was staying home from school for the week. Donald had gone out that afternoon to play softball with his friend Cy, and of course their father was busy at his office. Old Mrs. Weidman had been given the first three days of this week off to visit her cousin in Peoria, and, to make the school vacation something out of the ordinary, David Ainsley had promised
Kristina and Donald to take them out to a different restaurant each of these three nights.
The honey-haired teenager still wore her pretty blue dress and the coquettish lingerie sent by her mother, and she had definitely given up her pigtails for the grownup barrette and long sheaf of shimmering, silky hair which she carefully combed out into a neat cascade. Early yesterday morning, she'd awakened at seven out of a strange, disturbing dream in which she saw herself seized by a masked man who had led her by the wrist into a dark room, undressed her, taken her over his lap and spanked her till she cried and begged him to fuck her instead. And when he had done it to her, she had squirmed and wriggled so frantically from the rapturous sensations teeming through her pussy that she had ripped off his mask and discovered it was Daddy. He had laughed and told her that she was the one he really loved and that was why he had spanked her. When her eyes had opened to find herself in her own bed and to realize that, vivid though it had been, it had been only a strange, haunting dream, she had blushed to discover that her forefinger was buried to the knuckle inside her soft pink cunt, and that she was wet between her legs.
Daddy had taken her and Donald to Easter brunch at Hugo's at the Water Tower, and the wonderful treats and the chocolate eggs and rabbits had occupied her enough to distract her from thinking about last night and the night before that. Donald had been on his best behavior. In fact, Daddy had asked him if he was sick or something, he was so unusually quiet. And she'd looked away quickly and tried very hard not to blush.
Kristina had made her own lunch this afternoon and put away the dishes. Mrs. Weidman had often let her help in the kitchen and shown her how to cook a few simple things. As she went back to the living room to turn on TV, she thought to herself how cozy it would be if Mrs. Weidman didn't ever come back-though she was awfully nice-so that she could cook all of Daddy's meals and be closer to him. From the way he'd acted yesterday and some of the things he'd said, she knew he was really missing Mother. She was glad she was growing up so fast she could understand things about grownups which used to seem so mysterious to her. Maybe that was what Mother had meant in her note.
And from what Donald had said about f-fucking Saturday night, how he was putting that rubber thing on so she wouldn't get a baby, Kristina had done a lot of thinking and figured out that that was exactly how Daddy and Mother had got her and Donald to be born. And now, if Mother was gone for good, Daddy didn't have anyone to fuck and be sweet on, so no wonder he was lonely and looking so sad so much of the time.
The doorbell rang, and Kristina hurried to the door, then remembered what Daddy had said about keeping it on bar till she knew who was outside. Carefully she drew the door back, peering through the crack. "Who-who is it?"
"Kristina, it's your Uncle Bjorn," came the answer in a strong baritone voice.
"Oh, just a minute, Uncle Bjorn, I'll let you in!" she happily exclaimed as she slid the bar free and opened the door.
Bjorn Berndtsson was Helga's younger brother, 38, with curly, sandy-colored hair, sturdy as a Viking, with twinkling blue eyes and full sensual mouth, and a perennial bachelor. He had been best man at his sister's wedding to David Ainsley, affably insisted on standing treat to the wedding reception. Then he had taken a plane to Los Angeles and rejoined the Swedish freighter, of which he was third mate, at San Pedro. From time to time, over the years, he had mailed gifts to both Kristina and Donald from various exotic ports of the world to which his travels took him. Last year, a week after her twelfth birtgh-day, he had come to Chicago on a cargo cruise up the Great Lakes, now master of the freighter, and he had brought Kristina a little garnet ring from Morocco and a tortoise-shell comb from Andalucia.
"How's my favorite niece, sweetheart?" he lifted her up in his arms and kissed her on the mouth, then set her down and stood back, hands on his hips, to study her admiringly. "Ah, I can see you've grown up fast since your last birthday. And you've made your hair very lovely, too. That beautiful golden hair, which you inherited from my dear sister, the mark of a true Swede."
"T-thank you, Uncle Bjorn. You haven't written for ages, I didn't know if you were coming-specially now that-well-you know-" Kristina flushed, looked down at her pumps, embarrassed for having referred to the divorce.
"Oh. I see. But that makes no difference, wouldn't I still love my prettiest, my only, niece?" he chuckled jovially. He wore a visored cap, leather jacket and heavy corduroy trousers. Delving his big hand into the pocket of the jacket, he produced a tissue-wrapped jewelry case. "This is for your birthday, pretty one. Open it and then you will thank me."
"Ohh, what is it?" Kristina hurriedly unwrapped the case and opened it, then gasped with delight to see an imitation pearl necklace.
"That, young lady, is all the way from Macao. Oh, there is no better life than a sailor's, to see so many beautiful places all over the world, to have the wind and the sun and the sea blow away the dust of living all the time in a house. That is why I am always on my ship, you see, little one."
"Oh, it's just beautiful-thank you so much, Uncle Bjorn!"
"Now you must hug your uncle and kiss him nicely for such a present!" he chuckled. Blushingly, Kristina obeyed, tilting her mouth up to be kissed. His big hands gripped her sides, then slid down to press against her jouncy bottom. Suddenly his blue eyes narrowed and his mouth came down hard on hers, prolonging the kiss beyond the amenities till Kristina gasped and squirmed and finally put her hands to his cheeks to push him away.
Her cheeks flamed as she stepped back, a hand to her bruised mouth, for she had just felt the unmistakable thrust of his hardened prick against her soft cunt when he had pulled her to him.
"Oh ho!" he boomed in his resonant voice, with a lewd grin, "you are more grownup than I think, I, Bjorn Berndtsson, say this to you because we are alone and by ourselves. But, little one, a man who is on the high seas almost all year long, has little time to take himself a wife, and so after my long voyage up your dirty lakes, which cannot equal the beauty of our fjords and bays, here I see my niece in a pretty dress and nylon stockings. I am a simple man who appreciates such beauty even if I cannot have it for myself. Come now, give me the kiss of peace to show you are not angry with your Uncle Bjorn."
Kristina had placed the necklace round her slim throat and touched it with her sensitive slim fingers. Somehow, it seemed to convey a kind of magical power, making her feel ever so mature. And he was so good-looking and so full of fun she could not be angry with him.
"I-I'm not angry," she whispered as she shyly moved back to him to link her lovely arms around his neck and arch up on the toes of her suede pumps to offer him her mouth.
"Now that is mine-eskalde, my little sweetheart, truly," he chuckled as his lips came down lingeringly on hers. His fingers again glided down from her waist to her lithe rounded young hips, and pressing intimately against the base of her resilient buttocks. Even as she gasped and struggled to break free, his fingers pressed her fiercely to him. His pelvic basin ground into hers, so that she could not help but feel the avid thrusting of his fully erect prick, pressing frock and petticoat and panties lasciviously into the soft pouting pink lips of her young cunt.
"N-no, please-you-you mustn't," she whispered, twisting like an eel to get loose.
"Ho, ho, you try to tell your Uncle Bjorn you know nothing of boys, min eskalde? But this I cannot believe, your body is already full and sweet as a young woman's, and there is about your face a look which I did not see last year. Surely you have a sweetheart at your school, a boy you let kiss and play with you?"
"Oh n-no, Uncle Bjorn, oh no I don't-please-don't hold me that way-please be-be n-nice!" she stammered, flustered by the torrid emotions which his unexpected caresses and kisses had wakened in her burgeoning, young flesh.
"Nice?" he mocked her, his hands rubbing up and down against her tensing bottom cheeks as he continued to press her tightly against his rigid prick. "But a delicious eskalde such as my favorite niece, when she is dressed like a woman who loves to flirt with strong men, must know that she must take the consequences if she excites them. My sister knew that-ja, Kristina, your own beautiful mother. It was only a pity she wasted so many years without your father's understanding how it is with women who wish to be women but are too proud to ask their men to treat them so. Now, there is something else that must be done, in honor of your birthday. Come along, my sweet little tempting eskalde!"
So saying, he grasped her by the wrist and led her up the stairs. "Wh-what are you going to do, Uncle Bjorn?" she stammered, self-conscious as she had not been even with her own father or with Donald.
"You will see, Kristina. Now, which is your room?" he authoritatively demanded, tugging her along as she followed. Stumbling and hesitant, an uneasy premonition grew with every step.
"Here it is," she gasped. With a chuckle, Bjorn Berndtsson pulled her into the room, kicked the door shut, and then seated himself on the straight-backed chair beside her little writing desk near the bay window. To her consternation, he pushed her down over his knees, slid his right leg out from under hers, and promptly clamped it over her slim ankles, while his left arm pressed like a steel vise over her supple waist.
"Oh nooo! Uncle Bjorn, what are you going to do? Oh please let me up!" Kristina tearfully protested, turning her contorted, flushed face back to her handsome, Viking-like uncle.
"Min eskalde, as I could not come in time for your exact birthday, I must make up for it today," he announced, his right palm slyly caressing the firm, resilient curves of her well developed butt through her frock and savoring her frantic wrigglings and weavings. "So now you must have your birthday spanks, it is the tradition, and as your uncle I would not have you think I do not have love and affection for you."
"Oh noooo, noo, I already had my b-birthday spanking, Uncle B-Bjorn!" Kristina wailed, plunging her hands back over her bottom to protect it from the threatened castigation.
Bjorn Berndtsson chuckled, his eyes glittering with lustful admiration of the pretty youngster's burgeoning figure, then expertly pinned both her wrists with his big left hand and forced them back high along her back till she winced with pain. Tightening his clamp over her struggling nylon-sheathed ankles, he reached with his free hand to loft skirt and petticoat and roll them neatly up above her supple waist. "Ah ha," he pronounced delightedly when he saw the round saucy globes of her virgin butt contracting and huddling under the snug white nylon panty sheath, "it is as I thought, you are already a very tempting young woman. And only thirteen? It is truly incredible. Well then, min eskalde, you must have thirteen good strong spanks and an extra one to grow on from your Uncle Bjorn!"
"Ohh noo, stop, stop, I don't want you to, please, Uncle B-Bjorn!" Kristina wailed, trying to free her wrists.
"And," he went on as if she had not even spoken, "to make sure that your lovely backside gets its full accounting, I am going to give you the spanks on your bare skin."
"Oh nooo! Not that-ohh for Lordie's sake, don't take my p-panties down, no, please don't, Uncle Bjorn!" she twisted frantically to avert the threatened disaster, but in vain. With the forefinger and middle finger of his right hand, he seized the waistband of the filmy sheath, gave it a vehement tug, and Kristina's despairing wail proclaimed the descent of her final veil of modesty down to her knees.
"Ahhh, now I can truly see how much you have matured in the year I have been away, my little blonde Viking goddess," he chuckled suggestively as his right palm lingeringly stroked the flinching, tightening rounds of her naked butt. "Such warm satiny skin, so soft and yet so firm-and you still tell your old uncle you have no boyfriends to take pleasure in that lovely body of yours?"
"Oh noooo! Oh my Lordie, oh please pull my p-panties up, Uncle Bjorn! This is just dreadful of you-you've no right to treat me like this, my birthday's over!" she tearfully protested, again trying to jerk her wrists loose of his inexorable hold. As she arched and twisted her loins over his big lap, she unwittingly exposed the soft pink fig of her delicious, well formed cunt, and his eyes glittered more ardently than ever at the exquisitely provocative sight.
"Not for me it is not, min eskalde. Now be a brave good girl and take your spanking properly, or I will think you are still a naughty little child, and then of course you will have to be punished severely," he declared. Patting her cringing bare behind, he suddenly raised his hand and descended it briskly, flattening the inner edges of both satiny butt-cheeks at the exact, ripest center of her delightfully contoured naked posterior.
"Owww, that stings!" she ruefully called out, sniffling and looking back imploringly at him.
"And that is only one. What, you start to cry already? Bah, you are not yet a worthy descendant of your dear mother's heroic ancestors. But I will do my poor best to make you proud of your heritage, my little niece!" he taunted as his big hand came down sonorously on the base of her right buttock. Kristina's legs stiffened, jerked, then clenched, her hips squirming lasciviously from side to side, then unrearing lewdly as if to invite more spanking. Once again, unknowingly, she exposed the palpitating lips of her tender young cunt.
"Two!" he chuckled, staring fixedly at the bright crimson splotches, imprints of his spanking palm, which stood out in lewd contrast against the pale glossy sheen of her carnation-tinted naked flesh.
The third spank flattened the base of the other buttock, drew a plaintive, sobbing "Owww, oh please stop, Uncle Bjorn" from the disconsolate blonde teenager, and was duly counted. Pausing a moment now, he ran his palm very slowly, appraisingly, over Kristina's huddling bare butt, a forefinger tip insinuating along the ambery-rosy sinuous crevice that led to her anal maidenhead.
"Ohhh noo!! Oh please take your hand away, Uncle Bjorn, that's not d-decent!" she sobbed, again struggling to get loose, but accomplishing only his further arousal in witnessing the lascivious wrigglings of her naked hips and the glimpse of that palpitating soft pink cuntal niche.
Perhaps if Kristina's virile bachelor uncle had not caught a pretty blonde stowaway, a 19-year-old hippie dressed in jeans and man's shirt, who had sneaked aboard his freighter just before it cleared the Erie Chanal, he might have been more circumspect with his luscious young niece. But the stowaway, Elsie Torrance, had strikingly resembled Kristina in demure, saucy features and the intense dark-blue eyes and turned-up dainty nose. like Kristina, too, her tits were small but perfectly formed, round and arrogantly firm, and her skin a soft pale glossy pink. She had kicked and cursed him when two sailors had dragged her out of a hogshead into his cabin, and though he had at first been inclined to put her to work earning her keep and then letting her off at the next port of call, her vicious obscenities and struggles had inflamed his rut. He had had the sailors tie her down over a tall stool and wind a cord round her waist and under the top, then had fucked down her jeans and men's shorts to bare a surprisingly spacious, round tight-spaced pair of butt-cheeks. Taking his belt, he had striped her wriggling ass some thirty times, then demanded she apologize for her insults. And when she had tearfully told him to go fuck himself, he had smeared his prick with shaving cream, waggled his cream-smeared forefinger into the dainty pink orifice of her ass hole, then buggered her enjoyably.
Unhappily for unsuspecting, precocious young Kristina, her now denuded young hips and loins and her struggles and her sauciness had feverishly aroused the exciting images of his subjugation of the audacious young stowaway. Now, lifting his hand off his niece's bare behind, he applied a noisy smack to the upper right summit, calling out "That makes four!"
"Oww, you're hurting me so, Uncle Bjorn-oh please stop, that's enough," Kristina tearfully entreated, again turning back her flushed, contorted face to her handsome, obsessed uncle.
Smack! His palm flattened the lower left summit of her now vividly reddening ass and was greeted by a shrill wail of "Owouuuu! Ohh, no more, you-you spank too hard, Uncle Bjorn, oh please don't, I'll be good!"
"Five! And you know you are fibbing to your uncle when you say you have no boyfriends, you are much too pretty and well made not to have them!" Smack! His right palm visited the upper right summit again, darkening the bright crimson hue already imprinted, and making Kristina's voluptuous bare ass jerk and twist lasciviously from side to side as if to shake off the excruciating hot sting of the spanking. "Six!" he gruffly declared as she sobbed and again pleaded with him to spare her.
"Ohh-ohh-but-but I'm telling the truth, Un-Uncle B-Bjorn, I don't have any b-boyfriends, h-honest I don't-oh do let me up and pull my panties back, puh-puh-lease, you hurt my bottom so!" she besaught him in a voice choked with intermittent sobs.
"I will see for myself, you little vixen," he chuckled lewdly, as, maintaining his tight grip on her slim wrists, he artfully probed with his right forefinger under her tossing, angrily reddened bare ass to insert within the pouting, soft lips of her vulva and, before she could frenziedly wriggle and try to jerk herself away, had gouged his finger in up to the knuckle.
"OH NOOO! DON'T DO THAT, OH UNCLE BJORN, THAT'S AWFUL OF YOU! OH I'M SO ASHAMED, LET ME BE! OH SPANK ME IF YOU HAVE TO, BUT PLEASE TAKE YOUR FINGER OUT OF MY PUSSY!" Kristina wailed hysterically.
"So, you have been fokking, min eskalde, and do not try to lie to me this time, for my finger tells me different," he muttered thickly, his eyes narrowed and flinting with his mounting lust. "If you were still a virgin, my finger could not go in so far! So you are playing tricks on boys already and you try them on a full grown man such as myself? For that you shall have not only your spanking, but also a little taste of the way the Vikings did to shameless hussies when they made them slaves in the olden days!"
So saying, he pulled her closer to him, shifted his right leg higher along her nylon-sheathed, sinuous calves, and then began to spank in earnest without bothering to keep count. His big hand rose and fell vehemently, and the noisy, crisp slaps were punctuated with her woebegone, feverish cries and choking sobs as she tried with all her might to twist herself free. Her thighs flexed violently, tried to clench, then yawned apart, then bent, while her flaming naked round-cheeked ass weaved, flattened, arched, swung furiously this way and that, unable to evade the barrage of burning spanks that attacked it from hip slopes to the tops of her long lithe thighs.
At last he paused to catch his breath, and Kristina, sobbing as if her heart would break, abandoned herself, going limp over his lap, head bowed, shoulders jerking with her uncontrollable plaints. "Oh-ohhh, puh-puhlease-no more, please, d-dear Un-Uncle Bjorn-I'll do anything you want-just anything! Only please don't sp-spank my poor b-bottom any more!"
"Are you telling the truth for once, min eskalde!" he angrily demanded, releasing her wrists and twisting the fingers of his left hand into her tumbled, honey-gold hair, yanking at it to force her to look back at him.
"Y-yes-oh yes-oh please, I-I can't stand it any more-I'll do anything you want-honest-"
"Then, naughty one, start by telling me who it was took your flower-you know very well what I mean-who was it fokked you?" His thickly accented use of the Sweedish word for "fuck" was close enough to the lewd word her own brother had taught her, and Kristina's face turned as fiery red as her wriggling naked bottom. I don't dare tell Uncle Bjorn, I just don't 'cause it was my own brother-and if I told him about D-Donald, then-then-it might come out that that was what D-Daddy himself wanted-wanted to do to me-and I'd die before I'd let anybody know that-oh how hard he spanked me, my poor bottom's burning so, but I won't tell him, I won't, not even if he goes on doing it to me-ohh, I'm so ashamed-he-he stuck his fingerr-right in my pussy-my own Uncle Bjorn-he's holding me so tight I can't get hose, he can do anything he wants to me and I can't stop him-oooh, it's starting to tickle again inside my pussy-j-just the way it did when Daddy sp-spanked me and-and when Daddy kkissed my pussy-and-and then Donald f-fucked it-oh, why do I feel this funny way when I get spanked and when somebody t-touches my little pussy?
"Ah ha, I see, you are ashamed now and you want to keep it a secret. And I bet also your own father does not know what a naughty little girl he has growing up in his house. Well then, if you want me to keep your secret, you must be as nice to me as you were with whatever boy it was you let between your legs, min eskalde!" Bjorn Berndtsson grinned triumphantly as his right hand resumed fondling and kneading Kristana's inflamed, pain-throbbing bare ass cheeks.
Oh noool What does he mean? Oh no-he-he can't-he wouldn't-not what D-Donald did to me? Oh my gosh, this is just terrible-but I'm only a little girl, I can't stop him, he's so big and strong and he's holding me down over his lap and my panties are off and my poor bottom is still stinging from that awful spanking-and he'll go on doing it till I say I will-ohh, nobody's home to stop him either-I'm all alone here with Uncle Bjorn, I never thought he could be so mean and wicked to a helpless little girl, oh what am I going to do?
"I am waiting to hear you answer me, Kristina," he said hoarsely, giving her reddened naked ass a sharp slap that drew a stifled gasp from the frantically shamed teenager. His left hand was still twisted in her tumbled hair, and he gave it a sudden little tug to remind her of her helplessness. "So, shall I go on spanking your pretty behind till you make up your mind, eh? like this-and this-and this one too-well now, are you going to decide? Or do you enjoying being spanked like this-and also this?"
At each "this," his right hand rose and swiftly made impact with Kristina's writhing, huddling, inflamed butt cheeks. "Owww-ouuu, don't, ohh, I won't tell you, oh please don't ask me to tell, Uncle Bjorn-aiii-yes-yes, all r-right, I-I'll do what you want-if you'll only stop-oh, it hurts me so!" she blubbered.
"Very well, I will let you off the spanking, then, if you promise to do nice things for your uncle. Get down off my lap and kneel between my legs, just so!" Releasing her, he leaned back and avidly watched the sniffling young blonde gingerly squirm off his lap and sink down on her knees between his straddled thighs. "Now, pull down the zipper and take out what you find, min eskalde," he chuckled with a salacious wink. "And do not be so foolish as to tell me you do not know what it is, not after my own finger has made sure you have had something like that inside you long before this! Hurry now, be quick, or back over my lap you go!"
"Ohh, Uncle B-Bjorn-that-that's d-dirty-oh please don't make me do that!" she implored in a dying, sobbing voice.
"I will use my belt instead of my hand on your bare sit down place, naughty little Kristina, if you do not at once do as I have told you!" he sternly countered, putting a hand to the heavy black leather belt of his corduroy trousers.
Squirming restlessly on her stockinged knees, feeling the hot throbbing pangs assail her quivering young bottom, the honey-haired teenager faltering extended a trembling little hand to his zipper and reluctantly tugged it down. Then she recoiled, a hand to her mouth to stifle the incredulous gasp that rose to her lips. His savagely stiff prick had bobbed out like a Jack-in-the-box, the glans hugely plum-shaped and broad, set off from the taut, bony-looking shaft by a wide shallow circumcisional groove, the lips of the meat was twitching and contracting to evince the furious lust which now had full possession of his senses.
"Ja, now take it in your soft hand, my Kristina, and kiss it!"
Ohhh, Lordie, how can he ask a girl my age to do such a horrid thing? My goodness, his is so huge and long and-and th-thick! Oh it's ever so much bigger than Donald's-yes, or even Daddy's! But he's looking at me so cross and scowling, and he's got his hand on that awful big thick belt, and it would hurt my poor bottom just dreadfully if he spanked me with it, I can't help doing what he wants, I just can't! Oh Donald, just see what an awful mess you got me into, all because you had to go and tell Daddy to-to give me a birthday spanking-I'll bet all this wouldn't have happened if you'd kept your big mouth shut-oh my goodness, Uncle Bjorn is pointing to-to his big hard t-thing-he-he wants me to k-kiss it-I-I guess I'll just have to!
Cupping the shaft in her left palm and grimacing as if it were a hot coal burning her tender flesh, Kristina approached her stricken, scarlet face to his heavy, inflamed prick. Closing her eyes and drawing a shuddering breath, she brushed the glans with her trembling lips.
"How very shy and sweet you pretend to be, but you and I know differently, nichts?" he chuckled slyly. Then, in a harsh, taut voice, "Better than that, Kristina, or I will use the belt on you very hard-put as much of it as you can all the way into your mouth, and suck on it, as you would do with a lollypop I had brought you for your birthday! Quickly, now!"
"Ohhhh, Uncle Bjorn-please don't make me do that-I couldn't-"
"No?" he softly purred, eyeing her steadily and beginning to unbuckle the heavy leather belt.
"Yes, yes, I will, don't sp-spank any more, please, Uncle B-Bjorn!" she despairingly sobbed. Then, fearful, that he might carry out his threat after all, the blonde teenager hastily opened her mouth, took firmer hold of his throbbing prick with her left hand and, leaning to it, inserted it deeply before she closed her lips. Her eyes went very wide with repugnance and alarm, and also something more, something she herself could not explain for her nostrils dilated and shrank convulsively, her firm round tits heaved erratically and as she wavered on her stockinged knees, she felt her thighs ripple and prickle with the same treacherous hot waves of female awareness that had betrayed her on the night of her birthday-and on that even more memorable night following it when her own brother had claimed her virgin cherry. I can't believe it, I-I've got Uncle Bjorn's c-cock inside my month and I'm sucking it! Ugh, it-it tastes so strong and b-bitter-and I can feel it move when I suck it, as if it was trying to-to bite me back! I hope I won't get sick-ugh, I never thought I'd ever do something like this-I can feel it fill up my mouth and press against my cheek, I can hardly swallow-my-my bottom still stings so, but-but it's so funny, it sort of doesn't really hurt, it's tickling me lots more in-in my-p-pussy and I can't seem to stay still on my knees, I-I'm swaying-am I going to faint or something? Oh my, how big his c-cock is getting, I can feel the big red head of it getting bigger every minute-
"Now that's enough, little one," he said roughly as he pushed her head away and abruptly rose, his big glistening red prick bobbing between his sturdy thighs. "Now take off that dress and your panties too, while I go find something so I don't hurt your sweet little hole! Do as I tell you to, Kristina girl! Or do you want a taste of my belt, hm?"
Shamefacedly, she stumbled to her feet, shaking her head, her eyes big and wide and humid with fear and also the inexplicable submission of a conquered young slave girl. She couldn't explain it, but his bold authority, outrageous though it was, had impressed her, made her afraid to do anything else but obey. And her gaze fixed unwaveringly on the huge, straining projection of his prick. Her own lips had sucked it, wet till it glistened with her own saliva. Her hands fumblingly tugged the frock off. Then, stopping, she husked her twisted little panties down to her ankles and stepped out of them. Clad in the petticoat, bra, garter belt, hose and pumps, she was bewitching in the Lolita-like allure of child-woman who had suddenly become no longer virgin, not yet mature and yet precociously instructed in what her body must perform to the demand of him who would command it.
Bjorn Berndtsson emerged from the bathroom with a little jar of cleansing cream and Kristina, who had just turned towards him, gasped and shrank back to see that he had doffed his corduroy trousers and shorts and was naked from the waist down, his prick enormously swollen, the heavy balls contracting and covered with thick dark-blonde hair. "Now take that petticoat off and come here to me, min eskalde, he huskily commanded, and the blonde teenager tremblingly obeyed, naked now save for bra and garter belt, nylons and pumps. She moved as if hypnotized towards him, eyes huge and humid, fixing on his face with an imploring yet submissive expression.
"Ahhh, now you are just the way I like a pretty girl, Kristina," he muttered, his eyes fixing on the soft pink lips of her quivering cunt. "God lay yourself over the side of the bed and spread your legs nicely for your Uncle Bjorn!"
"You-you aren't g-going to spank me any more, are you?" she quavered as she reluctantly approached the bed.
"Not if you do what I tell you to, Kristina. Stretch out now, that's it, and keep your legs wide apart-that's the way! Now hold still!" So saying, he uncapped the jar of cream and moved to her, bending to her reddened bottom as he daubed his right forefinger with the scented cream. Kristina uttered a shocked squeal when she felt him probe against the dainty coral-tinted lips of her virgin butt hole and daub the cream over the shrinking petals of her anus. Looking back, she gasped, "Ohh, what are you doing?"
"I would much rather fokk your sweet pussy, my darling, but I have nothing with me and I do not with you to be with child. So I will teach you how nice it can be in the other tight little hole, and I will make you have pleasure just the same, you will see," he explained, now anointing his prick liberally with the cream.
"Ooo-I don't know what you me-an-ohhhh, what are you doing to me?" for he had just yawned open the inflamed cheeks of her well-spanked ass to expose the flinching, stickied pink lips of her maiden anus, and now playfully prodded it with the tip of his huge, glistening glans. "Ohhh, noooo, it'll never go in, Uncle Bjorn, ohhh, don't f-fuck me there, please, no!" she tearfully entreated, trying to raise herself off the bed.
It will go in, do not worry, little one. And I will be very gentle and slow, I promise, so as not to cause you pain. Then you will learn how exciting it can be for a naughty girl who-likes to fokk and not tell her father how grownup she is," he playfully assured the squirming, uneasy half-nude teenager. "Now lie still and keep your legs well apart, or I shall have to spank you with my belt and you will not like that at all. Gently now-" his big hands very lingeringly opened her butt-cheeks again and he arched himself to press the glans of his straining prick against the tensing labia of her virgin ass hole. Kristina tilted back her head, eyes enormously widened, nostrils flickering, her mouth gaping in an anguished little O as she awaited her martyrdom.
Very gently, he pressed the tip of his heavy prickhead till grudgingly her ass hole lips gave way and accepted the swollen spear-point. Kristina uttered a long-drawn "Ahhh!", began to shiver as with ague, and kicked up. First one foot, then the other, her suede pumps thudded to the floor as she valiantly summoned all her young energies to withstand this novel and much-feared assault on her final cherry.
"Tell me how it feels, Kristina," Bjron Berndtsson demanded, both his hands kneading his young niece's reddened, saucy round butt-cheeks as he halted himself with a single inch of his prick burrowed into the tight warm grotto of her tender ass hole.
"It-it's so big-oh I'm scared-it-it'll hurt me, Un-Uncle Bjorn-please t-take it out-oh, if you-if you have to f-fuck me, please won't you f-fuck my p-pussy instead, please?" she tremulously petitioned, keeping her flushed, contorted face turned back to stare imploringly at him.
"I have already told you why I will not put it in your pussy, naughty little Kristina. Now try to relax yourself, don't fight me with your muscles, and you will see how nicely it will go in," he advised.
"I-I'll try, Uncle B-Bjorn-ohhhohhhhhh, I can feel it stretching me in there, Uncle Bjorn!" her voice rose shrilly as he pressed slowly forward, imbedding the full length and breadth of his plum-shaped glans inside the sphincter-ring of muscles which acted as repelling sentinels at the gateway to her virgin ass hole. Again she kicked up first one foot then the other, thrust her little hands back to her bottom as yearning to seize his ferocious weapon and pull it out of her dainty anal channel. But with a soft laugh, he grasped both her wrists in his left hand, whispering hoarsely, "Lift yourself up a little, sweetheart, now I will give you pleasure, you will see-trust your Uncle Bjorn!"
Whimpering, still apprehensive, the half-naked blonde teenager arched up her hips, whereupon he slid his right forefinger under her and probed to find the diminutive nodule of her clitoris. No sooner had he touched it than a stricken look of mingled wonder and alarm congealed on her saucy flushed face.
Ohhhhhhh whatever is he doing to me-he's touching my pussy, and it's tickling me like crazy, more than it ever did before inside my p-pussy. Ohhh now his finger's rubbing something inside there, so slowly and so lightly, and I can feel my bottom move around-ohhh now he's pushing his great big cock inside my bottom-ohh, ohhhh, how it stretches me-I feel I want to go to the toilet and push it back out but I can't-now he's tickling me faster and faster with his finger-ugghh-ahh-his cock-ohh Lordie, he's tearing me wide open in my bottom, I just know he is-ooooh, ahh, I feel so dizzy, it tickles so much I'm so dizzy, everything's going black, ohhh he just pushed his cock harder into my b-bottom-ohhhh I can feel it way down deep inside me, so very deep, oh his finger-his finger-I wish my Daddy were f-fucking me, oh I wish he were ohh I feel so funny, oh every time he touches me in my pussy there, I ... I feel my bottom jerking and w ... wiggling-and-and the spanking he gave me has made me so hot all over, I'm going to yell in a minute, I can't stand the tickling, ohhh Lordie, something's happening inside my pussy, I'm getting all wet and-and-
"Ohh fuck meeee oh yes yes ohhhh fuck me harder ohhh it's so good, what you're doing with your finger, Uncle Bjorn!" Kristina twisted her face round and plaintively sobbed, her tits shudderingly rising and falling as she was inexorably drawn into the dark swirling vortex of her very first true cum.
"Yes, yes, my sweet eskalde, I'llioA;A; you good now, cum with me, sweet Kristinaahh haa-now-now-ahhhhh oh how tight it is to my big cock-now!" he bellowed as, working his prick back and forth, pitilessly gouging her well distended young anal groove, he violently bubbled all his viscous come deep into the young blonde's quaking bowels. Kristina uttered a clamorous shriek of indescribable rapture, buried her scarlet face in the covers of her rumpled bed, turning it this way and that as her hips and loins threshed uncontrollably in the overwhelming frenzy of orgasmic bliss.
She lay sprawled, panting and whimpering, as he carefully and slowly pulled out of her stickied, clenching ass hole, then disappeared into her bathroom for a moment. When he returned, he was dressed, his face gentle and calm as he bent down to stroke her bottom and thighs, then kiss each quivering, reddened butt-cheek. "What a woman you already are, my little niece," he said tenderly. "How nice it would be if you were not my niece and I could wait perhaps three or four years till you are-as you will surely be-a magnificent woman born to give a strong man like me all the pleasures. Now, do you feel better, sweetheart?"
She nodded wanly, still shivering with the aftermath of that tempestuous carnal storm which had burst within her young flesh and nerves and psyche.
"You'd best tidy up in the bathroom, Kristina love," he murmured, kissing the deliciously hollow of her spine just above the chinkbone. "Then take a good nap. I shall be writing to you from the next foreign port, and I will send you a beautiful present. Remember, this is our little secret. You will keep yours about that boy who taught you so much already, and I will keep mine of the wonderful hour of love my true eskalde gave me."
He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Kristina sighed, shivered voluptuously, then slowly reached back to touch her reddened buttocks. Ohh Mother, she thought to herself, I never thought I'd grow up so fast or that there were so many ways to f ... fuck.
CHAPTER FIVE
With Easter vacation closing down the school all this week, both Kristina and her brother had plenty of time to themselves. The charming blonde teenager, however, kept away from Donald as much as she could out of a furious embarrassment which made her blush and lower her eyes whenever she looked at him. It was, indeed, all she could do to hide these signs of intense self-consciousness when both of them were at the breakfast and supper table with their father. At times there was a strained silence between them during the usual family conversations. However, David Ainsley was far too preoccupied to observe this curious phenomenon. For one thing, he himself was still anxiously dismayed over his impulsive lustful usage of his thirteen-year-old daughter and tried as much as possible to efface her memory of it by a kind of withdrawal in their usual communications. He was also giving a good deal of thought to finding someone to take Helga's place. Her departure had imposed too torturing a continence on his vigorous male passions, and the shocking proof of that, which continued to loom in his mind, had been the playful spanking of Kristina which had snowballed into his nearly raping his own daughter.
Consequently he plunged himself into his work at the office, and his brooding self-analysis made him particularly glum and snappish with his attractive secretary Rita Henshaw. Irritated as he was by his domestic problem and by the daily proximity of a tempting long-legged young woman whose very presence in his office reminded him all too bitterly of his empty-bed woes, he had occasion to reprimand her rather sharply several times during the first part of the week for the slightest lapses, such as a single misspelled word or one of the letters he had dictated with his back turned towards her, ungenerously failing to realize that she had been extremely competent to transcribe his mumbled dictation at all.
In return, Rita Henshaw retaliated with an icy aloofness and a glacially polite acceptance of his orders which only served to widen the breach between them. Irked by the unsatisfactory fucking performance of her last lover as much as by her apparently ignored interest in her boss as an ideal replacement, Rita evidenced a studied hostility each time she answered the intercom buzzer from David Ainsley's office to come in with her steno pad. The frown on her sensual, oval-shaped face made her even more challengingly desirable and in its consequential turn whetted his sexual awareness of her as a fuckable female whom he had already vetoed as a sexual partner because she was his employee.
By four-thirty this Friday afternoon, only the art director and David Ainsley and his secretary remained in the office. His media research firm employed an even dozen employees, and his own working philosophy was easygoing so far as hours were concerned, just so the work was done. The work load had been lighter than usual this week, and so most of the staff had already left for the long weekend. He sat smoking, going through a sheaf of letters Rita Henshaw had just brought in for him to sign, wondering how he was going to get through another lonely, boring weekend and feeling particularly sorry for himself.
The phone rang and he picked it up. "Ainsley here. Oh, yes, Mr. Hebron, now about that prospectus-what's that? You-you what? A bill from us, is that what you're saying-to Markheim Inc. of St. Louis? My God, I'll bet the prospectus went to them. I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Hebron. Tell you what, I've got a carbon of the prospectus, I'll have it Xeroxed right now and bring it over-oh, you're leaving the office now? Well, suppose I send it special delivery to your home-fine-thanks for being so nice about it. The same to you, Mr. Hebron."
The lanky dark-brown-haired executive slammed down the phone, then, his lips tightening grimly, pressed the intercom buzzer.
Rita Henshaw entered, poised, her thin penciled brows arched with a kind of insolent expectancy. He glared at her, all the more angrily because she seemed more tantalizingly fuckable than ever. Five feet seven inches in height, her brown rayon dress outlining the svelte elegance of a mouthwatering figure, the gauzy charcoal-brown nylons caressing the sleek curves of high-set, sinuous calves and showing the suavely dimpled knees and just a hint of the lithe long willowy and very womanly thighs above. Her high-set cheekbones gave her oval face an exotic allure. She had a feline arrogance to her that was maddening to him, angered as he was by this unpardonable blunder.
"That was Ben Hebron, Miss Henshaw," he growled. "Remember that prospectus you typed up for him?"
"Yes, I do, Mr. Ainsley. What's wrong?"
"Oh, you typed it well enough, Miss Henshaw. But it seems you sent him the Markheim bill instead. Now how the hell could a stupid thing like that happen?"
Instantly she flared back at him, "We have a mail boy, remember, Mr. Ainsley? I take out all your mail-except your last-minute letters, which I handle myself-out to the mailroom desk. I don't stand there to make sure Elmer puts the right piece into the right envelope, you know. And I resent your swearing at me and blaming me for someone else's mistake."
"Swearing at you? All I said was hell. Damn it, Miss Henshaw, you're getting just a little too impertinent, and I don't especially care for it."
She stared coolly at him. "I can't say I enjoy your browbeating me either, Mr. Ainsley. Or taking it out on me because your wife left you."
"God damn it, that remark was uncalled for! I've a good mind to fire you. But first, you're going to take this Hebron prospectus carbon, Xerox it, type out the label for an envelope to his home address and take it yourself to the main post office so it'll go out special delivery."
"Of course I'll do that, Mr. Ainsley." She turned to go. "I've got the carbon in my files."
"And you'll apologize for that unnecessary and offensive remark of yours too, young lady!"
She turned back to face him, slowly shook her head. "No, I won't. Because it's true and you know it."
David Ainsley swore under his breath, then declared in a hoarse, angry voice, "I've had just about enough of your sarcasm, Miss Henshaw. You're acting the way my thirteen-year-old daughter might, and the remedy for her if she behaved that way is a good sound spanking!"
Rita Henshaw tossed her head with a triumphantly mocking little smile. "Oh, of course, Mr. Ainsley," she countered with disdainful politeness, "violence is always the last resort of people who can't cope with situations."
"It is, eh?" his voice throbbed with unleashed fury. "Then put me down as one of those, Miss Henshaw, because that's exactly what I'm going to prescribe for you!" And with this, he caught her by the wrist and pulled her towards the leather-padded couch towards the back of his spacious private office.
"Take your hands off me-how dare you treat me this way, Mr. Ainsley-stop it-you're hurting my wrist-" Rita Henshaw indignantly protested as she tried to jerk her wrist loose, then struck at him ineffectually with her closed left fist, at the same time trying to kick at his shins with the toe of her brown suede pump.
Agilely evading both kick and blow, the dark-brown-haired executive seated himself on the couch, then unceremoniously yanked her down across his lap, keeping hold of her wrist with his left hand and bending it up high on her back to hamper her resistance. 'With a cry of raging humiliation, the svelte brunette kicked her legs to and fro wildly and tried to twist herself off his lap. Deftly, he slid his right leg out from under her, only to lock it over her sleek nylon-sheathed calves and thus immobilize her. "And now, Miss Henshaw, you're going to get what's coming to you!" he declared.
"Damn you, let me up-I quit, I don't want your rotten job, you're just a lousy sport, that's all you are!" she cried, twisting her lovely, contorted face back round to him and, awkwardly, with her free hand, trying to break his hold on her right wrist.
Ignoring her vehement struggles and tirades, David Ainsley gripped the hem of her brown rayon skirt and lofted it high above her slim waist, drawing a furious shriek of indignation and a redoubled wriggling effort to get loose. A peach-hued nylon petticoat veiled the spectacularly ripe, firm oval-shaped cheeks of her magnificent bottom, all the more accentuated by the supple slimness of her waist and her long sleek thighs. Unerringly, his right hand grasped the hem of that veil too and pulled it up to join her skirt high on her gracefully hollowed back.
"Nooooo! Stop it, Goddamn you anyway!" she shouted, tears of fierce humiliation glistened in her dilated gray-green eyes. Once again she twisted her hips this way and that and struck out at him with her left fist.
"Now who's using profanity?" he chuckled sarcastically as he stared with undisguised lustful admiration at Rita Henshaw's upturned, spacious, oval ass cheeks, snugly and provocatively displayed in a pair of peach-tinted nylon panties, while, under the waistband could be seen the tight cling of a very narrow, fragile flesh-colored, satin-elastic garter belt whose tabs hugged her long, shapely, nervously muscled tawny-sheened thighs.
"Let me go! Ohh, you've got no right to manhandle me this way, Mr. Ainsley, you're just taking your spite out on me, it's not fair!" she stormed as she kept looking round at him, futilely twisting and wriggling her hips as she kept trying to escape.
His lips tightened, and his right hand impulsively inserted itself beneath the waistband of the skimpy, gossamer panties. "Ohh nooo, don't you dare do that! Do you hear me? Stop it this minute-ohhh, you big brute you!" Rita Henshaw wailed despairingly as she tried to flatten herself on his lap to prevent the ultimate catastrophe.
With a vigorous tug, he yanked the filmy panties down to her knee hollows, and could not suppress a gasp of excitement at the mouthwatering, prick-hardening sight of the plump, jutting oval-shaped globes of her naked ass, the ambery-rosy cleft between the cheeks salaciously broadening as it neared the base. The smooth, satiny, warm skin with its tawny tintings shivered and palpitated as Rita, frantic with humiliation, contracted all her muscles to attempt to diminish the lewd spectacle she was so unwillingly according her angry employer.
Impulsively again, before beginning her spanking, David Ainsley could not suppress an expression of his lustful appreciation of his brunette secretary's quivering bare ass. His right palm moved to the huddling cheeks and lingeringly grazed them, delectating in the warm smooth palpitating satin of her superb flesh as well as appraising its marvelous resilience and boldly contoured symmetries.
"Nooooo! Ohhh, don't do that to me-you've no right, it's indecent!" the black-haired young woman shrilly denounced him, her voice throbbing with tearful intonations, as with all her strength she arched and twisted, trying uselessly to extricate her nylon-sheathed legs out from under his pinioning right leg. "I-I'll sue you for this, Mr. Ainsley, you-you've attacked me-I warn you, I-Owwwwww!! "
In the midst of her furiously indignant protests, he had lifted his right hand and brought it down sonorously across the crevice of her squirming butt cheeks, just above the base. Rita Henshaw's body stiffened, then writhed convulsively this way and that, her eyes bulging with horror and shame to realize that he was actually carrying out his audacious threat of spanking her.
Now, finding that her frantic jerking of her captive wrist was impeding him, David Ainsley locked his left arm tightly round her slim bare waist, and energetically resumed spanking his rebellious brunette secretary. Methodically, his right hand rising and falling about every five seconds, and alternating on the jutting, ripely curvaceous oval cheeks of her tawny-skinned bare ass, he proceeded to color her writhing, tossing behind a furious crimson after some thirty-five noisy, stinging slaps which progressively descended from the tops of her wriggling hips to the welts of her charcoal-brown nylons.
Rita Henshaw cursed, sobbed, threatened, thrust both hands back to dig her lacquered sharp fingernails at his pinioning arm, flexed her clamped down legs frenziedly and swerved her reddening ass in the most salacious gyrations throughout the spanking. Her face was as scarlet as her behind when he paused for breath, pressing his throbbing palm down over the sinuous shadowy groove that separated her resilient ass-cheeks. By then he had a prodigious hard-on, which she certainly must have felt as she writhed and ground her furry cunt against his lap in her desperate attempts to evade the scalding, burning pangs of his vigorously smiting palm.
Trembling violently with sexual reaction, he turned to stare at her contorted, tear-drenched face. Her glossy black hair was styled in a prim bun at the back of her head, which left her nape deliciously bare, and it was combed away from her high-arching forehead, making her look very sophisticated and mature. But in her present pose, her face as red as her incessantly squirming, inflamed naked ass, the muscles of her long lithe thighs spasming visibly through the diaphanous cling of her gauzy nylons, and the peach-hued narrow tabs of the garter belt which hugged her thighs emphasizing all the more lewdly the blazing red coloration imparted by the spanking, she took on the aura of a subjugated, helpless female slave, and the effect on sexually deprived David Ainsley was gigantic.
"Ohh ... oww ... ouuuuu, my God, you ... you just about killed me," she moaned, still thrusting her hands back against his restraining, clamping arm, "Let me go now, I want to get out of her, you-you horrid brute!"
"I'm waiting for you to apologize for that wisecrack about my wife, Miss Henshaw. Then you're quite free to leave my employ."
"L-leave your employ indeed! Ohh, you haven't heard the last of this, Mr. David Ainsley-I'm going to get a lawyer and sue you for every cent you've got-and what I said was true-it didn't give you grounds to just about beat me to death-now let me up-ohh, this is awful," Rita Henshaw sobbingly avowed.
"Since you're going to sue me, I might as well do a good job once and for all, Miss Henshaw," he hoarsely retorted. "It seems the spanking hasn't had sufficient effect, you're still insolent! So let's see if another dose will get me that apology!" With this, flexing his right hand, then blowing on it, he lifted it high, hovered it a long moment, and even as the half-nude young woman cried out frantically, "Oh noo, my God, no more, stop it!" he brought it down with an emphatic Whackk on the already inflamed base of her firm ripe oval right ass-cheek.
A second even harsher spank, which flattened the lower inner curve of her left buttock, drew a sobbing wail from the struggling victim and a rueful grimace from her executioner, whose hand was beginning to sting. Flexing his fingers again, he improvised by descending his hand with his fingers limp, flicking her swollen bottom-cheek as with the thongs of a whip, and a shrill cry of distress rewarded him? "Aiiii, ohh please, please stop, Mr. Ainsley! That's enough, for God's sake!"
"You're ready to apologize, then?" he gently flicked his fingertips against the shadowy groove separating her swollen hindquarters. Rita Henshaw's svelte hips jerked and wriggled feverishly, but, bowing her head, she gasped out in a chokingly muffled voice, "No, no, I won't ever give you that satisfaction, you brute you!"
Tightening the crook of his left arm round her bare waist and shifting his right leg up over her knee hollows, David Ainsley ground his teeth and now began to apply quick little flicks of his fingers all over her angrily reddened naked ass, attacking the tender insides of the globes along the gradually widening crevice, as well as the sensitive insides of her upper thighs. Rita Henshaw moaned and sobbed, writhing even more salaciously, her angrily flaming behind sometimes lurching upwards, then wildly swerving from side to side, and her fingers clawed at his restraining arm as she tried to free herself. A particularly stinging flick of his limp fingers whisked between the cheeks of her weaving ass and as he felt them make contract with the thick black silky curls of her cuntal fleece and the fleshy lips it concealed, he felt a frenzied jerking of his rigid prick.
"Eeeeeeouuuu, please, stop, stop, oh you're hurting me so-all right-all right-I'll do anything you say-only stop," she wailed.
He patted her bottom meaningfully. "Start by apologizing for that crack about my wife, then."
"Y ... yes ... s ... sir ... I-I'm-ouu-I-I'm sorry I said that-oh, please! No more!" she sobbed distractedly, her shoulders shaking.
"That's better," he grumbled, shifting his leg off hers and lifting his left arm from its compressing grip of her bare quivering waist. Rita Henshaw burst into hysterical sobs, bowing her head, abandoning herself over his lap, her hands feverishly thrusting back as they could to attempt to soothe the fiery pangs of her swollen, well-spanked ass. As her body squirmed and shifted over his lap, he was agonizedly conscious of the tremendous throbbing of his prick, which her soft fleshy cunt continued to rub against in this aftermath of the chastisement.
Finally, with a gasp of distress, she slipped down off his lap and stumbled onto her knees, both hands unabashedly rubbing her dark-reddened ass, tears running unchecked down her flushed, contorted face. Her upswept skirt and petticoat seemed to cling about her waist for a long moment, and his eyes devoured the bewitching sight of her exposed cunt, the thick, shaggy triangular fleece nearly concealing the twitching, succulently fleshy lips of the labia majora, and in the center the suave, pouting, more delicate petals of her vulva, a black-and-pink jewel of lascivious allure at the apex of her sinuous, long, stockinged thighs.
He slowly rose from the couch, and in that fleeting moment when conscience tries to overpower the forces of lust, glanced down at his savagely projecting prick, which threatened to burst through his fly. A she continued to kneel there, still rubbing her behind, still sobbing feverishly, he put out a propitiatory hand and ruefully stammered, "Look, Miss Henshaw, I'm sorry as hell-but you drove me to it-"
He wasn't prepared for her reaction. Her gray-green eyes, hugely dilated, swimming with tears that continued to drip down onto her flushed cheeks, fixed on his prick. Her mouth opened and a stifled, incoherent gasp escaped her. Then, crawling forward, she flung her arms round his wiry thighs and panted, "Oh God, don't just talk, fuck me-oh, God, I need to be fucked-please, please do it, I'm burning up for it!"
"Miss Henshaw-Rita-I assure you I-" again he tried for self-control. But the conquered brunette young woman, with a desperate groan, slipped one hand to his fly and wantonly dragged down his zipper, reached in and took out his heavy, dark-veined prick, then bent her head forward and closed her sensual red lips avidly over the swollen glans and applied a feverishly long, sucking kiss.
This done, she looked up at him, shivering fitfully, her right hand still clutching his aching shaft, and gasped, "What more do I have to do, Mr. Ainsley, for God's sake? Oh fuck me! You don't have to worry, if that's what's bothering you, I'm on the pill-please, oh please! You don't know how I need it!"
With a groan of frantic, lustful joy, he lifted her up by the armpits, and at once her arms locked round his shoulders as she crushed her moist, panting mouth on his, then delved her pert pink tongue deeply between his lips, her loins squirming and grinding lasciviously against his bared, stiff, swollen prick. Tiny whimpering moans exuded from her, and he could feel the hard pears of her tits flatten against his heaving chest.
As they stood locked in furious embrace, Rita Henshaw lifted one pump-shod foot and scuffed her tangled panties down to her ankles, stepped out of them, then pressed her cunt even more ardently against his aching prick. Trembling violently in the access of his violent rut for this unexpectedly submissive siren, David Ainsley stooped, pulled up her skirt and petticoat above her waist. "Oh yes, yes, darling!" she breathed, reaching for the up-trussed garments and gripping them a loft with her left hand as she circled his waist with her right arm, then arched her eager cunt to the fulminating weapon of his readied, throbbing prick.
With a groan of delight, he felt his glans press apart the deliciously moist, twitching, willingly yielding lips of her soft pink cunt and gouge into the wonderfully tight sheath. His hands gripped the inflamed, hot cheeks of her ass, mercilessly kneading and squeezing them as Rita Henshaw mewled with masochistic rapture and thrust herself furiously upon his impaling weapon till he could feel himself hilted to the balls in her torrid cuntal sheath. Their lips fused again, this time his own tongue taking the amorous initiative, and he could feel the indescribable torture-bliss of her vaginal contractions as they kissed and nibbled and took avid emprise of his scabbarded, hard prick.
Rita Henshaw sobbed with delight as she arched herself away from his prick, staring down between their bodies to see its glistening, tight skinned rigidity slowly emerge out of her moist, quivering cunt. Joyous now in his restoration of virile manhood, David Ainsley laughed huskily and squeezed her reddened ass cheeks hard as he pulled her back to him, his prick thrusting back into the tight warm volutes of her passionate cuntal sheath.
"Hard-give it to me really hard, darling-oh, how I've wanted you to do this to me ever since I came to work for you," she moaned.
"Oh, you sweet teasing bitch, you don't know how I've wanted to fuck you either-but I told myself it wasn't a good policy to get involved in my own office," he muttered, pressing her hard against him till he could feel himself delved into the balls and taste again the maddening, fluttering contractions of her womb walls squeezing and trying to drain his overloaded prick.
"And now how does my brute of a boss feel?" she tremulously teased, eyeing him wistfully, as tears still streaked her exquisitely sulky, sensual face.
"That's a silly question, Rita. Does that gorgeous rear end of yours still hurt?"
"That's an even sillier question, darling. Of course it does and that's exactly why I'm dying to be fucked-now please attend to me or I will sue you for driving a poor working girl up the wall," she breathed.
His answer was to silence her with a hot French kiss, his tongue rubbing against her mouth walls as he drew slowly back, then crammed to the hilt inside her humid, quivering, churning cunt. Swaying, locked together, they began to quicken their passionate tempo as Rita, moaning in ecstasy at the harsh bite of his wiry fingers into her reddened, throbbing ass-flesh, squirmed and writhed, nostrils flaring and shrinking, till at last she let go of her up-trussed clothes and locked both arms to him, sobbing and shuddering, her head bowed on his left shoulder as he felt her feverish cuntal spasms proclaim her achievement of total, rapturous, hot cum. Then with a groan of agonized pleasure, he thrust home a last time and flooded her quaking cunt with his viscous jet as she twisted her face to fuse her lips to him again, her tongue darting furiously back and forth inside his gasping mouth.
"Oh, God, lover, that was just wonderful," she wanly murmured when the carnal storm had subsided, and her knees began to tremble and give way as she clung to him, her superb pear-tits rising and falling tumultuously.
His hands gently stroked and patted her still weaving, contracting oval ass-cheeks, as he felt his prick, for all its fiery libation poured into her avidly eager cuntal sheath, still stiff and aching. "Forget the damn Xerox, Rita honey," he muttered. "I want you again, only this time, take off everything and let's have more fun on the couch."
She giggled softly, kissed him hard, then moved away. "I'll use your biffy first, with your permission, boss. But I'll still do that Xerox-only lots later-that is, if you still want me to work for you after all this?"
He began to take off his clothes, grinning at her. "Just try to quit now, you black-haired, hot pussied bitch you, you'll get such a spanking the one I just gave you will feel like a love-tap!"
Rita wriggled out of dress and petticoat, reached back to unhook her bra and let it flutter to the floor. Then, excitingly provocative in just nylons, pumps and snug, narrow garter belt, she walked to the door of the private bathroom, turned back to him on the threshold, and, wiggling her hips suggestively, purred, "All right, boss man, this time I won't quit, because I don't think I could take seconds on that fantailing. But next time, when I give you a hard time, don't stand on ceremony. Give me what I need!
He sprawled on the couch, naked now but for socks, lit a cigarette and smilingly shook his head. It was so damn funny in a way; if he hadn't thought about Kristina's birthday spanking, he mightn't have had the stroke of genius to turn Rita Henshaw from a haughtily efficient secretary into the hottest piece of cunt he'd ever had. And maybe, if he'd done the same thing to Kristina's blonde mother, she might still be waiting for him to come to bed with her.
Rita emerged in just nylons and garter belt, hurried over to the couch, and bent down to him, her widely spaced ripe firm pear-tits dangling temptingly. He reached out to cup and fondle them, then impulsively reached up to unravel the prim thick bun of her glossy black hair and let it tumble to her smooth, dimpled shoulders. Rita Henshaw sighed with pleasure, furled out her tongue and began to lick his balls, her soft fingertips tickling his inner thighs. With a gasp, he cupped her cheeks and drew her on top of him, then agilely rolled her over onto her back and knelt up, playing with her tits as she reached for him.
"Not yet, baby," he muttered as he moved down her lithe tawny-sheened body till he bestrode her knees. Then, bending down, his fingers stroking her quivering sides and hips, he began to brush the twitching fleshy lips of her cunt with the tip of his tongue, then deftly prodded the well developed, stiffened love-bud of her clit.
"Ohh, Dave, oh my God, oh yes!" she moaned, writhing, arching up one knee and yawning it to the back of the couch, then lowering it and raising the other as her bottom squirmed restlessly, arching up her cunt to his gamming.
Seizing her knees, he forced them back up against her tits and with a sudden thrust, hilted his prick to the roots inside her moist contracting cuntal sheath. Rita Henshaw wailed aloud with ecstasy, her feet kicking sporadically, her toes twisting and curling, her fingernails clawing at the couch, her head turning from side to side. As he moved closer to her, thrusting and withdrawing with jerky, rapid strokes, the naked brunette secretary draped her stockinged legs over his shoulders and, moaning as her climax neared, cupped and squeezed her heaving dark-tipped tits to intensify the myriad excitements of this rapacious fuck.
David Ainsley had just solved one of his major domestic problems-but in a way that was destined to create quite another!
CHAPTER SIX
"Know what, Krissie? I'll bet Dad's gonna marry that Miss Henshaw," Donald Ainsley was playing softball catch with his sister in the backyard of their house this warm May Friday afternoon. Once again, Kristina had resumed her jeans and blouse, though she had made the concession to her newly gained maturity by keeping her hair in a barrette and falling in a thick, honey-golden sheaf down past her shoulders.
"Oh gosh! What makes you say that, Don?" she held the ball instead of throwing it right back, and a frown shadowed her lovely, pert face.
" 'Cause I heard him on the phone last night when I was in the hall goin' to the kitchen for a glass of milk and he didn't know I was there. He was telling his lawyer, that Mr. Raymond, that now that the decree was final from Mom, there wasn't any reason he couldn't remarry. And you know he brought her out to have dinner with us last Sunday, don't you? Well, that means he's really stuck on her, see? I think she's a nifty looker."
"Huh! She's just his secretary, that's all," Kristina sniffed and threw the ball back with angry strength.
"Hey, watch it, Krissie!" her brother grimaced and flexed his right hand. "You're not supposed to pitch it, just throw it, see? Yeah, that Miss Henshaw's a dish. I'll bet you a month's allowance Dad's gonna marry her, you wait and see. Gee, though, it'll feel sorta funny calling her Mom, she's real young."
"Huh! Well, I won't call her that, no matter what he does," she disdainfully sniffed and flung the ball back hard again.
"Hey, cut that out or I'll quit," he grumbled, rubbing his hand against his knee. "If he marries her, you'll hafta call her Mom, or Dad'll spank you. Yeah," he snickered at the sudden thought, "maybe she'll do it to you too."
"I'd just like to see her try something like that!" Kristina's face reddened furiously.
"Yeah? Well anyway, I think it's a great idea. Dad's been so down in the mouth ever since Mom went away. You want him to be happy, don't you, Krissie?"
"Sure I do, you big stupid!" Kristina angrily retorted. "I don't want to play any more. Whyn't you go see your friend Cy and have him take you over to that June you're always bragging about?"
The lanky brown-haired boy glanced quickly around to make sure nobody else was within hearing range, then slyly countered, "Sure, why not? Unless maybe, though, you'd like to have some fun with me tonight in bed?"
"Ohhhh! You-you-" Kristina spluttered, turning scarlet to the ears, "don't you ever say that again, not ever! I-I only let you do it so-so you wouldn't blab to Daddy and your awful friends like Cy! And anyhow, you know it's awful wrong to-to do it with your own sister."
"Okay, I just thought I'd ask-you might want seconds. Wanna know something, Krissie? Ever since your birthday, when you started wearing girl's clothes and changed your hair, you're real sexy, see?"
"All-all right. But I still won't ever let you again-you know. Now I'm going in and help Mrs. Weidman fix dinner for Daddy."
"Sure. I guess maybe I will go over and chew the fat with old Cy."
It was nearly midnight, and Kristina hadn't been able to get to sleep. The weather had been unseasonably warm all day long, and she'd put on her little white shortie nightie rather than her pajamas, but she still felt uncomfortably warm and restless.
Just two weeks ago she'd had her first period, and she'd been real scared. Mrs. Weidman had been there to calm her fears and show her what to do and even praise her for becoming "a real grownup young lady now, Miss Kristina, and you're going to be a beautiful woman very soon, I can see that." It had strangely comforted her. Indeed, she had felt very proud of herself for advancing out of the little-girl, childhood stage. That was one reason she wasn't being a tomboy with the fellows round the neighborhood any more.
But what Donald had told her this afternoon was staying in her mind, and it was really why she couldn't get to sleep right now. That Miss Henshaw was all right, she supposed, pretty enough, but somehow it just didn't seem right to have to call her Mom. She'd only had one short letter from her real mother, the day after her period, and the news had made her very sad. Mother was going to marry that Jirka fellow and move to New York for good, and maybe Daddy would let her come visit during the school vacation this summer. She felt terribly forlorn and abandoned all of a sudden.
Pensively she sat up and hugged her knees and stared into the warm darkness. I bet I know why Daddy wants to marry that Miss Henshaw. He wants to fu-fuck her. I guess a man has to have a girl to fuck or he gets angry and grumpy, the way Daddy's been ever since Mother left. But if he does go ahead and marry Miss Henshaw, then I won't be Daddy's girl any more. And he always did seem to like Donald the best anyhow-then it 'll be even worse and I'll be left out like an orphan, sort of. Oh, what am I going to do?
She frowned and bit her lips, then hugged her dimpled shapely round knees up even tighter against her, leaning forward and feeling them flatten the firm apply-rounds of her delicious young tits as she pondered this exasperating problem.
Now that I've had the curse-that's what Mrs. Weidman called it, and it's so funny-I'm really grownup, she said. I know I am anyhow, 'cause Donald fucked me and Daddy almost did-I-know-now that's what he really wanted to do. Maybe if I'd made him f-fuck my p-pussy that time, he wouldn't have gone looking for somebody like that slinky Miss Henshaw to do it to. Maybe-maybe if I talk to him and tell him I want to be his girl and I know how, too, maybe he won't marry her after all. I-well, I guess I wouldn't care so much if he just-well, just fucked her when he felt like it, but didn't marry her.
She squirmed uneasily, and shivered as she felt her cunt twitch and prickle with tantalizing sensations-the very same she'd experienced when Donald had fucked her and when Uncle Bjorn had tickled her pussy with his finger while he was shoving his big hard cock into her behind. Then, her face flaming at the boldness of her sudden impulsive resolve, she scrambled out of bed, and, barefooted, in her thin shortie nightie, tiptoed to her door, opened it and peered down the hall. She had made Donald promise he'd stuff some paper or putty into that crack in the wall in his room and not peek in at her, and he'd agreed. But she couldn't really trust him to keep his word about that. She waited a minute to make sure she didn't hear him stirring around in his room, and then, satisfied, took a deep breath and, headed down the stairs and down the hall to Daddy's room.
His bedroom door was partly open and she could vaguely make out his big double bed. He was lying there and breathing evenly, snoring. Her heart was pounding like a trip hammer as she cautiously crept towards the bed and stared down at him. He didn't have anything on-or else, since the sheets hid the lower part of him, he was just wearing his jammy pants. She tiptoed back to the door and closed it. Then, bolder still, turned the key quietly in the lock, and moved back to the bed.
Irresolute for a moment as she faced the most monumental crisis of her precocious young life, she hesitated, not quite sure how to go about convincing him that he didn't need to marry that Miss Henshaw because he could have her instead. As she stood staring at him, she felt the tickling in her soft cuntal lips increase, as did the pounding of her heart, till at last, drawing a deep breath and summoning up all her bravado, she carefully clambered into bed beside him and turned on her left side towards him.
"Daddy!" she whispered urgently, putting out her right hand to touch his cheek. "Daddy, please wake up, I have to talk to you!"
He stirred, mumbled, then blinked his eyes and turned to look at her. "Kristina-what are you doing here, honey?"
"I-I have to talk to you, Daddy. It-it's just awfully important."
"Oh? What's the matter, honey, couldn't you get to sleep? I know, it's so warm. Well, let me sit up and get a cigarette, okay?"
"If-if you want, Daddy," she sat up warily, again hugging her knees with both hands and shivering as he reached out to the little night table lamp, turned it on, then fumbled for a half-empty pack of Pall Malls, and lit one. "Now then, small fry, what's the trouble?"
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at that demeaning endearment. "I-I'm not small fry either, Daddy. Mrs. Weidman says I'm grownup and I'm going to be-well, real nice-pretty soon."
"Of course you are, honey. You are already. Is that what you came to tell me?"
She lowered her eyes, cleared her throat, stricken now by a sudden furious self-consciousness. But she knew she just had to tell him now or he'd go ahead and marry
Miss Henshaw and then it would be too late. "Daddy."
"Yes, honey?"
She decided to take the bull by the horns. "Are you really gonna marry that Miss Henshaw, Daddy?"
David Ainsley chuckled. "There seems to be a grapevine around this house. I hadn't planned on telling you and Don for another couple of weeks, but the answer is, yes, honey. I loved your mother very much and I missed her terribly, but now that she's marrying again, there's no point in crying over spilled milk. Rita-Miss Henshaw-is a very fine young woman, and she-likes you both, and I'm sure you'll get along just fine with her. Now, it's late, Krissie, why don't you go back to bed?" he patted her cheek.
Kristina stared at her knees, frowned, and then in a small, quavering voice, proffered: "Daddy, when a grownup gets married, it's 'cause he wants to go to bed with her, isn't it?"
"Good Lord, who gave you that bit of barnyard wisdom, Mrs. Weidman? I'll have to speak to her," he chuckled, regarding his blonde daughter with a startled glance.
"But that's so, isn't it. Daddy? I mean-well, you-you want to-well, to f-fuck Miss Henshaw so-"
David Ainsley grabbed Kristina by the shoulders and shook her. "Where the devil did you pick up that dirty word, young lady? Whom have you been talking to?"
"Ouch-please, D-Daddy-you-you're hurting me-I-some of the girls at school said it, h-honest, "She fibbed out of frantic improvisation.
"Then they need their bottoms paddled and their mouths washed out with soap is all I've got to say. And I don't want your using that word again, do you hear me?"
Kristina meekly nodded, her cheeks aflame now, her eyes averted from his stern, intent face. But the tickling in her soft cunt persisted and as his fingers gripped her bare shoulders, her own forlorn, secret need outweighed her fear of his wrath. "But D-Daddy-you don't have to marry her if-if you just want a g-girl to go to bed with-I mean-you don't 'cause-'cause I can be your girl-"
"Kristina Ainsley. What's got into you anyhow?" he peered at her incredulously, still holding her shoulders with digging fingers that made her wince but also shiver out of a secret, subconscious urge she herself could not possibly explain. "I'm sorry you heard about Rita-Miss Henshaw-from someone else rather than from me. I can imagine you're upset because of the divorce and everything, but we'll have a nice long talk about it all, when she's over here and then-"
"You-you don't understand, though, Daddy," she stammeringly interposed, twisting to kneel up and face him, as her hands took hold of his and she blushingly stared into his widened, worried eyes. "I mean-you-you can f-fuck me, Daddy, then you won't have to marry her to-to have somebody to do it to, don't you see?"
"My God, I-" his voice failed him as he regarded her with dazed stupefaction.
Hastening to press home her advantage in this moment of his apparent hesitation, the lovely blonde teenager finished, "You see, Daddy, I-I know what-what f-fucking is-'cause-well, I did it-"
"Kristina, have you gone stark staring raving mad?" he shouted, shaking her again till her honey-gold hair danced about her dimpled shoulders. "I warned you, I don't like that kind of language from a nice young girl-"
"But it's true, Daddy," she bravely nodded without taking her eyes from his taut, flushed face, "I did it-and you know something? You-you really wanted to do it to me yourself, the night of my birthday when-when you sp-spanked me-"
"Oh my God!" he ruefully groaned. "Honey, I thought we were going to forget all about that-I went crazy for a time here, I'm sorry, you know that-but don't tell lies just because you're upset about my getting married again, baby? Now stop this nonsense and go back to sleep!"
Again she shook her head. "Uh uh. I'm not making it up, Daddy, honest I'm not. I-I did it with a boy, Daddy, and ... and he used one of those white things you put on-on your c-cock when you f-fuck somebody."
"If I hear another word, young lady, I'm going to take the hairbrush to your bottom and make you regret making up such a colossal lie. Now look, I-I understand why you're doing this, but I told you we'd talk it over sensibly in the morning."
Kristina began to sniffle. "You don't believe me. You think I'm just a silly little girl. Well, I'm not. I'm grownup, Daddy. And you can spank me if you want, but I did so tell the truth-I did get f-fucked! Want-want to see me?" And with this, she lofted her shortie nightie, pulled it over her head and tossed it to the floor, then confronted him on her knees, her face scarlet and tearstained.
David Ainsley turned red and started to speak, but couldn't. His eyes riveted on his daughter's budding apple-round tits with their dainty coral tidbits in the center of the delicate narrow aureolae, on the soft nook of her bellybutton, on the silky dark-golden curls which framed the plump pink citadel of her tempting young cuntal mound, on the quivering, long satiny-sheened thighs which parted in her shamefaced yet proud offertory of her girlish nakedness. Gradually, the horrifying realization came to him: how else would she have known about the condom if it hadn't happened to her?
And then a kind of jealous, selfishly possessive rage began to build in him, along with the throbbing ache and swelling of his prick to think of the naked lovely young nymph in such terms and, mostly, to think that someone else had tasted the succulent sweetness of her virgin cunt, when it had only been by Herculean self-control on the night of her birthday that he had held himself back at the last possible moment from taking her cherry himself.
Before he could think rationally, acting solely out of blind, jealous impulse, David Ainsley had thrust his right forefinger between the soft pouting pinks of Kristina's tender cuntal lips, and burrowed to the knuckle. "Christ-you were telling the truth, weren't you? Why, you little slut you-who was it? Who fucked you, Kristina? I want to know, d'you hear?"
"I-I won't tell you, Daddy-you-you'd only be mad at him and hurt him-and besides, he-he didn't get me into trouble-like I said-he-he used one of those white things he says stops having babies!" Pale and trembling, but courageous, Kristina faced her aghast father, naked on her knees, while his eyes glitteringly fixed her taut, anxious, lovely face and his finger remained hilted inside her twitching cunt.
"Oh, you won't? We'll see about that, young lady!" he finally growled. Getting off the bed, clad only in thin white cotton pajama shorts, he strode to his dresser, picked up a black wooden hairbrush and went back to the bed where Kristina cowered, wringing her hands and staring apprehensively at the ominous smooth-backed, oval-shaped implement of her imminent chastisement.
He swung himself onto the bed and seated himself in the middle, then gripped Kristina's left wrist and yanked her over his lap, his left palm pressing down hard on the center of her smooth pink deeply-hollowed back to hold her down to penance. Then, patting her huddling bare ass-cheeks with the flat back of the hairbrush, he hoarsely declared, "I'm going to get it out of you one way or another, young lady, so when you've had enough, you can just tell me what boy it was did it to you, understand?"
Kristina covered her face with her hands and bowed her head, abandoning her nubile naked body, huddling her long shapely thighs. Already she could feel her father's throbbingly swelling prick prod against her lower abdomen. I won't tell him I just won't. He can spank me to death but I won't! When he spanked me that first time, he got so excited he-he almost f-fucked me then, I know he did-well, maybe this time he'll really do it, and then he won't want to marry that Miss Henshaw! I know it's going to hurt lots worse'n his hand, but I don't care-ohhhhh, that did hurt, awfully! Ouchh, ohh the hairbrush is lots worse'n his big hand, oh yes it is! Ohhhh, he's spanking so hard, he's really mad at me-oh gosh, I can't hold still, I have to kick and wiggle my poor bottom 'cause it burns so!
The very first crisp Whackk of the hairbrush on his daughter's bare ass made David Ainsley's prick jerk and ache agonizingly with the salacious sound. As he lifted the brush, the sight of the bright pink oval splotch decorating the upper left cheek of her stoically tightened behind sent a wave of lustful heat through his viscera.
Grimly, he lifted the brush again and brought it down on the other cheek, then a third, and a fourth time, pausing to contemplate his handiwork. Kristina had sucked in her breath audibly each time, her body stiffening at the impact of the smooth flat wood against her springy, satiny bare flesh, and at the fourth spank her right foot had kicked up and down as she wriggled uneasily across his lap, still keeping her head down and her face covered with her trembling little hands.
"I mean it, young lady," he harshly repeated, patting the base of her flinching ass with the upper part of the hairbrush. "I'm going to use this till you tell me his name! Oh, you're going to be stubborn, are you now? We'll just see!" Smack-thwack-whack-crack-smackk! Raising the brush, he inflicted five quick stinging cracks all over Kristina's squirming bare ass, pushing down with his left palm as her body uncontrollably arched and writhed.
"Oooooooh! Ahhhh, ohh, D-Daddy, it hurts! Owww! I can't tell-I won't-you can sp-spank me all you want but I still won't-ouuuueeeeee! Ahrrrr, ohh, it stings, Daddy-oooh, Lordie, it stings something fierce-boo, hoo hoo, I didn't mean to be naughty, honest I didn'tahrr-oh please, not-not so h-hard there, Daddy, oh it's awful-I-I did itooohhheeeeeeahrrrr, oh let up a second, II have to talk to you, Daddy, puhleaseeee! Ahrrr! Owwweeeee! I had to do it, Daddy-" under the inexorable barrage of hairbrush spanks, Kristina could no longer maintain her heroic stoicism. Her hips leaped, swerved violently, her feet kicked to and fro in the air, and her writhing gyrations rubbed her soft pink twitching cunt more and more vigorously against his, by now savagely swollen, prick. As he paused after the twentieth spank, his glittering, narrowed eyes laving her woefully bright-red-streaked naked ass, Kristina turned her tear-drenched face back to supplicate: "I-I had to do it, Daddy-I wanted to-to know what f-fucking was like so's-so's you could do it to me and I'd be your girl all the time and-and you wouldn't ever, ever have to marry anybody else-there-now you know w-why, Daddy-but please, n-not so hard with that awful b-brush, please, Daddy darling!"
He kept the hairbrush pressed over the crevice of her squirming, flaming bottom as he stared at her, his jaw dropping. "You poor lonesome kid you," he finally ejaculated in a shaky voice. "It was all my fault you got into this mess-first, that crazy birthday spanking and then what I did because-well, you were right, honey-a man needs a girl to fuck, and yes, that's one good reason I'm going to marry Miss Henshaw, darling. But my God, sweetheart, there's a law against our doing what you want me to do-you have to wait till you're really grownup, like Miss Henshaw, though maybe not that old, and then pick someone you love very much, don't you see?"
Her hands plunged back to rub and soothe her fiery, swollen, quivering ass as she tearfully nodded, beseechingly staring at him. "Y-yes, Daddy, but couldn't youjust this once-please-d-do it to me? I want you to-you-you aren't married yet-you-you could put on one of those things and do-do it to me-you-you spanked so hard, I'm so awful hot, I want you to love me good, Daddy darling-please?"
The hairbrush dropped from his nerveless hand as he stared mutely at his precocious naked sobbing daughter. Then he uttered a tortured groan. Kristina had drawn back her left hand, insinuated it between their bodies and was squeezing the swollen head of his violently aroused prick. "You know you want to f-fuck my p-pussy, Daddy-I can feel your c-cock wants to, isn't that so?" she chokingly murmured.
"All right, you asked for it, young lady!" he panted, rolling her onto her back. Kristina squealed as her blazing bottom pressed against the sheets, but her eyes were wide and anxious, glimmering with tears of mingled discomfort and rapt expectancy, as she watched her father strip off his pajama shorts, pull open the drawer of the little night table and take out a glossy white condom, then fit it along his bulging, angrily reddened prick.
"Now just you remember that when I get married, this will never happen, honey," he admonished as he knelt before her, his hands stroking her bare knees and quivering calves, while she thrust her palms down on either side of her, shuddering with anticipation. The throbbing heat of her well thrashed naked ass made her squirm her hips in the most lascivious way, like a young concubine just purchased by the vizier of a mighty emir and brought at once to his bedchamber to be sampled and judged for her carnal competence to please. "You and Rita and I are going to have a nice long talk about things very soon, because I've got to do something about you. If you're this way at thirteen, heaven knows what you'll be like five years from now unless we give, you some real parental guidance."
"You-you can always spank me when I'm naughty, Daddy," she sniffled, with a wry little smile through her tears.
"Oh no," he shook his head with a hollow laugh. "I'm wise to your cute little sexy tricks, young lady. Look what happened just now when I paddled that naughty backside of yours-now keep still or I'll do it all over again!"
"Y-yes, Daddy-are-are you g-going to-f-fuck me, now, Daddy d-darling?" she quavered in a tiny, scared, anxious little voice.
He didn't answer, too overwrought to trust himself to speak. Instead, drawing her knees lasciviously apart, he plunged his face against her twitching, already moistened cunt and began to kiss and suck it lingeringly, flicking his tongue all over the fleshy outer labia rims, then slyly gouging between the delicate more fragile lips of her tingling vulva.
"Oooooh-ahh-ohh Daddy-ohh that's so nice, ohh how it tickles my p-pussy-ohh Daddy darling, I can't k-keep s-still when you're doing that to my p-pussy-ahh-ouu-ohhhhh I have to wiggle and kick and tell you what it feels like-ouu--ahh-Daddy-ahh-hoooh Lordie-ohh, I'm going to faint if you keep d-doing that to my p-pussy, Daddy darling-eeeeekoohhh-ouuuuu Daddddddyyyyy!"
She lifted herself with her palms, head tilting back till her soft throat was a taut pink-fleshed arc, the pulse hollow throbbing wildly. Her tits arched up, dusky-stiffened points jabbing at the air as her body vibrated and threshed, her hips swerving lewdly and uncontrollably as his tongue now concentrated on her diminutive, sensitive clit.
"Ohhh-ahhhhhhh-D-Daddy," she moaned, delirious with excitement, "f-fuck my pussy now, oh do it now, I want you to, oh puhlease, Daddy darling, fuck your girl!"
He straightened, then cupped her burgeoning, heaving tits and moved between her straddled, shaking thighs, his white-sheathed prick rubbing lightly against the moist pink twitching gape of her frantically yearning young cunt. "Ohh-ohh-y-yes, put it into my pussy, oh put it all in, Daddy!" she breathed, arching herself up frantically with her palms, trying to grant him easier access, stretching her long sleek pink-sheened thighs as far apart as she possibly could. Her dark-blue eyes wide and unwaveringly fixed on his massive weapon.
David Ainsley moved forward, his glans disappearing slowly as the fragile pink lips of Kristina's young wanton cunt absorbed the adamant intruder. She moaned with delight at the stretching, rasping sensation it inflicted on her tight sheath, closing her eyes, her nostrils dilating and clenching spasmodically as her feverish excitement mounted.
"Am I hurting you, sweetheart?" he solicitously panted, halting halfway inside her quaking cunt, his hands kneading her jouncy warm young tits.
"Oh nooo! Ohh please, do it hard-f-fuck my pussy hard, Daddy! Oooh, my bottom hurts so, f-fuck me hard so I won't feel it so much, please, Daddy!" Kristina huskily exhorted.
With a shuddering groan, her father slowly stretched himself out over the passionate young naked teenager, burrowing his prick to the balls inside her churning cunt.
Ohhh it's so good, so much bigger'n harder'n Donald's-oh, my Daddy's fucking my pussy, he really is, I'm so happy, I want to be his girl to fuck, even if he does go ahead and marry that Miss Henshawoooh, mmmm, it's just heaven ... I can feel my pussy kissing my Daddy's big s tiff cock, yes lean-it's so tight inside me, it's open-
HQing my little pussy so! Oohhh, ouuuuu, I'm rubbing my sore bottom on the sheets and it makes me get hotter all the time-oohhh, Daddy's fucking his Kristina and I wont ever, ever tell Donald, but if he hadn't shown me, I wouldn't ever have known how lovely it is!
Fearful that he might crush the naked young girl with his weight, David Ainsley clutched her by the hips and rolled her over atop him, as she squealed with surprise and delight to find herself staring blushingly down at him. "Am I doing it right for you, Daddy dearest?" she begged with a happy little giggle.
"You're wonderful, Krissie angel," he groaned, grinding his teeth to hold back the maddened urge to explode, feeling her narrow warm cuntal walls clench and flutter against his achingly imbedded prong. His hands slipped down to her hairbrush-heated ass-cheeks and savoringly palpated the luscious, tingling, reddened flesh.
"Oooh, Daddy, it-it's still awfully sore there-b-but it feels good just the same," she whispered, and with a happy little sob, crushed her moist soft mouth on his, parting her lips and out of deliciously spontaneous impulse foraging her pert pink tongue inside his panting mouth.
"Sweetheart, wiggle up and down on me," he whisperingly instructed slipping a forefinger into the sinuous crease between her inflamed buttocks to brush the furtive, crinkly petals of her ass hole.
Oooooh, I wonder what Daddy would think if I dared tell him Uncle Bjorn put his big hard cock into that place too! Oh gosh, what an awful lot of secrets I've got to keep-but I'll bet that Miss Henshaw won't be able to f-fuck Daddy any better'n I do, I'll just bet! Oooh, it's so lovely, I'm wiggling, just like Daddy said to do, and I can feel his cock rub and push back and forth in my hot pussy-ouuu, something's happening, to Daddy's cock, it's jerking and-oooooh, ohhhhhh I'm going to faint, I just know I am, everything's getting so dizzy inside of me, ohhh, it's so wonderful, ohhh now Daddy knows what a nice pussy his girl has for him to fuck!
His fingers had dug into her swollen butt-cheeks as he felt himself explode, and Kristina, sobbing, writhing uncontrollably, clutched at his flushed cheeks as she experienced the quaking tumult of her answering hot cum.
"There," he gasped, "now you put on your nightie and go right to bed and don't ever let me catch you doing this again."
Slowly, shivering with erotic aftermath, the naked blonde teenager wriggled off his still shuddering body, sat on the edge of the bed, then archly looked back at him. "Is it all right if I have a boyfriend, then, if I can't have you, Daddy?" she petitioned with a teasing little smile.
"Don't you dare," he exclaimed, reaching for the discarded hairbrush.
"Oooh, I'm going, I'm going, Daddy," Kristina giggled as she hastily donned her shortie nightie and scampered to the door. Then, as she opened it, she whispered saucily, "Only if you ever want to f-fuck my pussy again, Daddy, all you have to do is say so!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
"You really do have a problem on your hands, David dearest," Rita Henshaw giggled as she crouched on all fours between his sinewy, hairy naked thighs and lovingly fondled his rising prick with both soft slim hands, lasciviously swaying her hips from side to side to let him enjoy the sight of her thick-fleeced cunt and her widely spread off-black-nylon-sheathed thighs. Clad only in garter belt and nylons, his black-haired secretary, now his fiancee, had cooked him dinner this Friday evening in her Near North Side apartment and then, leaving the dishes in the sink, eagerly undressed to play the role of love-slave to her adored lord and master-to-be.
"Yes, I do, and I admit it baffles me, Rita." He hadn't told her the entire story about Kristina, of course. He couldn't be sure how she might react. He'd only said that Kristina had turned very jealous at the news of his plans to remarry and had shown him an unusual amount of affection to prove he didn't need a wife.
"One thing you could do," she murmured, "is to send Donald away to a private school, or maybe a military school. I've a hunch there's a sibling rivalry there and Kristina feels he's your favorite."
"You may be right about that. And Don would like the idea of a military school, seeing how crazy he seems to be about his R.O.T.C. at Selmar High."
"That's perfect. And about Kristina, Dave lover, if she stays home with us and knows she's loved by us both, that ought to make her less jealous. Besides, I've got another idea about that, but I'll wait till we're married. Right now, I need my guy, I've needed him all week." She cuddled his prick between her palms, bent her head to implant a wet, prolonged kiss on his throbbing glans, and crawled over him, her legs lewdly straddled, till she was over his up-tilting, inflamed prick. Retaining hold of it at the scrotum with her left hand, she parted the fleshy moist palpitating lips of her ardent cunt with right thumb and forefinger and slowly lowered herself upon his rigid weapon. "Ooooh, darling!" she breathed rapturously as she felt his taut-skinned prick gouge upwards, frictioning her torrid sheath, then slowly sank down till he was buried in her to his heavily laden balls.
Now, balancing herself with her palms on either side of his hips, she arched and lowered herself, turning her svelte tawny-sheened hips lubriciously so as to make his prick scrape the sides of her burning cuntal cavern, her breasts dangling and shuddering, their nipples dark and flinty-tipped with passion.
"And to think I held off all those months just because you worked for me," David Ainsley gasped, reaching up to squeeze and cup Rita's juicy pear-tits.
"I'd like to go on working at least a few months after we get married, Dave dearest," Rita reached back to undo the prim bun of her raven hair and let it tumble in a soft silky swathe down her lovely, sculptured bare back. "But I'll want to help choose my replacement-and it'll be a mature woman you won't be tempted to spank and then fuck."
"Rita Henshaw, I never thought a word like that was in your vocabulary," he teased, arching up to grind his pelvic basin to hers and feel the glorious throbbing tight cohesion between prick and eager clamping cunt.
"There's lots about me you don't know yet, and I'm saving it for when you've made an honest woman out of me," she purred. "I just love being fucked this way, but it's a little wearing on my leg muscles-has your slavegirl her master's permission to lie on top of him and go on from there?"
"Yes, slave-girl, only you'll pay the penalty," he chuckled as Rita felinely stretched out over him, slipping her slim hands under his bottom, and slyly goosing him as she moaned to feel his prick throb and dig to the hilt inside her churning cuntal sheath.
"I'm ready, just do it hard and make me cum, sweetheart," she whispered as she glued her mouth to his and shivered voluptuously as she felt him lock his left arm tightly round her waist, then palpate her tensing oval ass-cheeks with his right palm.
"Slave-girl, I sentence you to be spanked on your naked bottom till you make me cum," he hoarsely announced as he lifted his right hand, then brought it down hard on the top of her left bottom-cheek.
"Oooh, your slave-girl felt that one, master," Rita huskily whispered as she began sinuously to arch and squirm over David Ainsley's naked loins, regulating the in and out progression of his delving prick, her eyes starry and humid with a masochistic fervor. Her fingertip nudged his anus, edged between the puckering lips, and he inflicted a pair of noisy slaps on her right bottom globe which left bright crimson splotches on the tawny-satiny skin and drew stifled, excited gasps from the voluptuous young brunette. Rita at once quickened her wriggling gyrations, foraging her forefinger to the hilt inside his ass hole and waggling it back and forth. Groaning with lustful pleasure, David Ainsley began to spank her haphazardly, and soon her gasps and sobs of excited bliss mingled with his moans of rutting ecstasy as her lithe svelte body threshed and ground, arched and squirmed, hips weaving furiously as her buttocks took on a brilliant red hue from hip0slopes to the tops of her stockinged thighs.
"Ohhh, darling-ahh-David, ooooh, I'm going to cum-oh I can't help it, ohh my bottom, ohh master, it's so good, is it nice for you-ahhh-lover, harder, thrash my naughty bare ass hard as you can now," Rita fairly shouted as she writhed and twisted, whimpering, head tilting back, eyes starry and humid.
With a bellow of fulfillment, David Ainsley felt himself burst volcanically inside her quaking cuntal sheath, as his right hand applied a last furious pair of sonorous smacks to her flaming oval-cheeked ass, and Rita's hips bucked and jerked frenetically as she joined him in the turbulent, shattering climax of mutual orgasmic joy.
It was the second week of June, and David and Rita Ainsley had just returned from a two-week honeymoon in Acapulco. Donald had been treated to a camp vacation in Estes Park, Colorado, joining a group of youngsters his own age who were a contingent from the military school in which he would be enrolled this September. Old Mrs. Weidman had looked after Kristina, who, to tell the truth, had moped about a good deal of that two weeks, dolefully pondering the consequences of being under the possibly repressive thumb of her new, young stepmother.
This bright warm Sunday afternoon, Rita had invited her new stepdaughter to help her unpack, and in the suitcases, to Kristina's delighted surprise, there were several colorful presents bought in Mexico, a multi-colored shawl and a pair of bright-beaded zapatillas, moccasin-like slippers.
"Those are from me, honey," Rita gently explained. "Now I wanted to have this little chat with you all alone, big-girl talk, because I know how you feel about your father."
Kristina's cheeks turned a flaming red and her eyes went very wide. "You-you do?"
"Of course, sweetheart. Believe me, I understand it. After all," the svelte brunette woman winked, "your father is a very sexy man, that's how he got me to say yes. And you're growing up to be such a fine, beautiful young woman, it's perfectly understandable that you should fall in love with him."
Kristina shifted her feet nervously, stared down at the floor, discomfited and not certain what to say.
"I know you want to be loved, honey, and that's natural too," Rita went on softly, an arm round the blonde teenager's waist. "But there are different kinds of love. And you'll learn more about them as you get a little older. I want to let you in on a little secret. I want to give your daddy a baby just as soon as I can. Maybe it'll be a little sister, Kristina dear, and then you can look after her. That way, somebody very important will be entirely dependent on you for love, and it'll be your job to help her grow up."
"Ohh-do-do you mean that, R-Rita?"
"Of course, darling. And by the way, I like your calling me that. I don't ever expect to take your mother's place, but I do want to be like a big sister to you. So you can always come to me with any problem you have and I'll do my very best to help you, understood?"
"Uh huh. R-Rita, I-gee, I think you're just swell."
"All right, darling. Now, I think I can guess your secret too."
"Ohh! W-what?" Kristina gulped, her cheeks fiery with embarrassment.
"I'll bet you've wanted to-well, have sex with Daddy, haven't you?"
"Ohhhh!" Kristina stared incredulously at the alluring brunette.
"I'm not going to pry. But tonight, I'm going to ask your daddy if you can watch us start your new little sister, Kristina darling. Now that's something you can't ever do for Daddy, dearest, but I can. And that, if you want to know the truth, is really why your daddy married me."
Kristina's eyes were shining. "I-I see. Oh, gosh, that'd be terrific-a little sister, and I could learn to take care of her and change her clothes and stuff and maybe even feed her?"
"That's right, honey. Now come on, let's finish my unpacking, and then tonight, when you're ready for bed, you come into Daddy's room. I'm going to ask his permission-but mind you, just this once."
"Oh yes-oh, Rita-I-I love you so, I do, lots!" the enraptured, precocious teenager ecstatically gasped as she flung her arms round her brunette stepmother.
"My God, Rita, you-you mean you actually want to let Kristina watch us fuck?"
"Uh huh, lover. Not only that, I want her to see you spank me and get me ready to start that baby sister for our very wise and beautiful grownup daughter. Once she has someone to look after, David darling, I predict you won't have to worry about her turning into a nymph. But when she's old enough for a fellow, her instincts for love and mating and motherhood will turn her into a perfect wife and sweetheart in bed."
"You're amazing, Rita."
She giggled softly as she reached out to squeeze his already swelling prick through his trousers fly. "I told you, you'd have lots of things to learn about me once we got married, David lover. Such as, the fact that you've already fucked sweet little Kristina at least once."
"Rita-you-how the hell could you know that, did she tell you?" his face turned a furious red.
"She didn't have to, lover. I could read it in what she said and the way she looked whenever I talked about my big strong lover. And now, it's almost time for her to come in, so let's get ready for bed."
As she spoke, Rita began to undress till she stood tall, svelte, sleekly naked before her entranced husband. Then she slowly, tantalizingly donned a diaphanous black net nightie, a wedding gift he had bought her in Acapulco. Then, putting her hands to the back of her head, she undid the stylish bun and let her lustrous black hair tumble about her shoulders, arching out the magnificent pears of her luscious ripe tits whose already stiffening nipples prodded against the clinging black net fabric of the low-cut bodice.
David Ainsley caught his breath, then began to remove his clothes till he was naked. "I'm supposed to spank you too?" he hoarsely demanded as Rita stretched out on the bed, pillowing her head in her arms.
"Yes, and I want it to be with the hairbrush. I want Kristine to hear and see my cry, so she'll know I've taken her place as your grownup slave-girl, David darling."
"You're incredible-but all right, you asked for it," he grinned wolfishly.
There was a timid knock at the door, and Rita called, "Come in, Kristina darling."
The door opened, and the honey-gold-haired teenager, delicious in her shortie nightie, blushingly entered, closed the door behind her.
"Come here and kiss us both, sweetheart," the svelte brunette smilingly urged as David Ainsley, not a little self-conscious, stretched out naked beside his beautiful young wife, his prick uncontrollably uptilted and throbbingly hardened.
Kristina approached the bed, trying not to look at her father's prick, leaned to Rita, who hugged her and pressed her soft moist red mouth on the girl's. "Now Daddy," Rita whispered, nodding towards him.
Eyes demurely downcast, cheeks aflame, Kristina moved to the other side of the bed and leaned over to kiss her father.
Ohh my, just look at Daddy's cock, how big it is-I guess he does love Rita lots. And she's awfully beautiful too-and so nice to me, and she knows how I feel. I-I guess growing up is more than just-well-just knowing how to f-fuck-oh I feel so embarrassed, they're going to show me how grownups d-do it-oh my goodness, Daddy said something to Rita and now she's getting out of bed and going over to the dresser-oh my gosh, she's bringing back the hairbrush, the one he used to spank me with-now she's pulling up her nightie and crawling over his lap and handing it to him-he-he's going to spank her b-bottom, just the way he did mine-I didn't know grownup women actually ever got spanked-he's putting his other arm round her to hold her down for the sp-spanking-now he's patting her b-bottom with the hairbrush and asking her if she's going to be good to me and look after me so I can grow up right-oh myy, he hit her bottom so hard, I know I'd be crying already from that hard swat-she's awfully brave, she just gasped a little and wiggled her bottom-look how awfully red that first spank mark is, though!
Rita writhed and sobbed softly as the hairbrush cracked wickedly against her weaving, squirming bottom. After ten, equally distributed to the ripe oval tawny-skinned cheeks, she panted, "Krissie, take your nightie off and stand over in front of me, I'll make you happy while your Daddy finishes punishing his naughty big girl!"
Trembling with an excitement that surpassed any she had had till then, Kristina almost automatically obeyed, letting the nightie drop to the floor and moving like one hypnotized in her lithe young nakedness to face her stepmother's upturned, tear stained face. Rita groaned as David Ainsley patted the base of her flinching butt cheeks with the flat of the hairbrush, then reached out her right forefinger and began to tickle Kristina's soft pink cuntal lips.
"Ohhhh! R-Rita-"
"Shh, honey, it's all right, Daddy understands a big girl has to have relief when her pussy gets hot-I'm ready, master-give it to me hard for being so naughty with your daughter," Rita panted as she looked back to the flushed, excited, wiry naked man who had learned her own delicious masochistic secret.
As the hair brush fell with a crisp Thwack, Rita's wriggling hips started convulsively, and she slipped her other hand between her legs and alternately began to frig David Ainsley's throbbing prick and her own rapidly moistening cuntal lips while she continued to tickle the rims of the blonde teenager's twitching pink cunt.
"Ohh,. Daddy, not so hard. I love Rita-ohhh, ohh it tickles-Daddy, don't spank her bottom so hard with that mean old hairbrush-I love her, Daddy-please let her off-ohh, Rita, you're tickling me so lovely-ahhhh!" Kristina sobbed, unconsciously spreading her legs and arching her young burning cunt towards the brunette's expertly delving forefinger.
David Ainsley, beside himself with frenzied lust, quickened the cadence of the spanking, the hairbrush fairly bouncing off Rita's flaming, swollen butt-cheeks with hardly a pause between noisy stinging spanks.
Kristina uttered a sobbing cry and sank down to her knees, eyes closed, her naked round apple-tits heaving furiously as the flood of cum swirled through her. Then, as the miasmic aura of uninhibited passion seethed in her, blinking her eyes, she saw her father roll the sobbing young woman off his lap and order her to all fours. And as Rita crouched, head bowed, hair mantling the rumpled white sheets, her knees wavering, her upturned buttocks shuddering and an angry dark-red, David Ainsley crouched behind his fervently masochistic young wife, reached for her dangling tits with his wiry hands, and with a groan of delirious ecstasy, thrust to the balls inside her gaping pink wet cunthole in a single savage, cramming dig.
"Ahh, David, ohh my God, sweetheart, fuck your slave-girl, cream her pussy, give her a baby girl for our sweet Krissie!" Rita sobbingly cried out.
Kristina knelt, transfixed, a hand rubbing her wet cunt slowly, reviving the exquisite, salacious pleasure Rita had so sagely bestowed on her. Mmmmmm, now I know what I can do when I start thinking about Daddy and my wonderful new Mummy fucking ... I can pretend it's me Daddy's fucking, and my finger can be his big hard wonderful cock ... and maybe, if I'm naughty to my new Mummy, Daddy'll spank me hard so I can go to my room and pretend this lovely new way--
