Author: Loren Tres Title: Mechanic's Helper Part: 1 of 1 Summary: Mindy is an amazing little mechanic's helper Keywords: MF, Mf, 1st, cons, rom, preg, humor, cars email: loren@lorentres.com Copyright 2010 by Loren Tres, all rights reserved. Do not copy, edit, republish, etc. -- Mechanic’s Helper Loren Tres I’ve read several stories about sex under a car, most notably the anonymously written story, ‘The Garage’. Years later, I decided to write one of my own. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Best, Loren Tres -- I felt bad for Mindy. It must be boring, to be a newly minted teen, living in a large old house, situated on twelve-hundred-eighty acres out in the middle of nowhere, in the hot Nevada desert. The nearest folks lived almost twenty miles away. The nearest city was ninety miles. I needed to give her something interesting to do during those times of aching boredom, so I let her play with my tools. Soon after that, she became the best little mechanic’s helper on the planet. My uncle had purchased the property back in the sixties, because it abutted tall beautiful majestic cliffs along its entire western edge. Five years after he bought it, he discovered that the property was over a natural underground aquifer and had an amazingly high water table, which was extremely unusual for anywhere in the Nevada desert. The colorful cliffs shaded much of the property from the evening sun, and kept it cooler than it would otherwise be. He willed the acreage to me when he died eleven years ago. A very large garage building, fifty feet wide and one hundred feet long, stood next to our house. The garage had a concrete floor and a drain in the middle, which was ideal for a mechanic who likes to work on old classic cars, like me. I worked hard, but I loved my work. I made a living buying abandoned, wrecked, and salvage cars cheap from a friend of mine who owned a tow truck company out on highway 93. About a third of the cars came from anywhere else I could get them. Some, I repaired and returned to service. They were good basic transportation. Some, I used as parts. A select few, the classics with potential, I restored from the frame up. I sold those special projects in Las Vegas, about a hundred miles south, through a dealer friend who specializes in classic cars for wealthy buyers. I used the extra money to fix up the house and to care for the two loves of my life: my pretty wife Mary, who was twenty-nine when these events happened, and her beautiful blonde-haired blue-eyed tomboy daughter, Mindy, who had just turned fourteen. The story of how I fell in love with Mary could fill a book – a hot, steamy, riveting romance book – maybe even two books. However, here is the condensed version. It starts when I was a boy. Ever since I can remember, I needed sexual release, far more often than was normal, even for a teenage boy. I used to masturbate constantly, several times a day or more. My parents only caught me a few times but they saw the evidence nearly everywhere. They worried by just how much evidence they found, so they took me to a doctor specializing in sexual anomalies. That is where I learned about a condition known as Male Satyr Syndrome. MSS is a condition where a male has an abnormally excessive sex drive. Unlike most men, a man with Satyr Syndrome can perform sexually, repeatedly, several times a day, or for hours on end, sometimes staying erect even after ejaculation. The good doctor was kind enough to provide me with a book designed to help boys in my condition control their urges, and soon, even though it about drove me crazy, I learned how not to masturbate all the time. Women I had dated for sex loved my problem – at least at first, but then they got annoyed, and then irritated by my constant needs. They all eventually left me. One girl even claimed I was in league with the devil to lead poor unsuspecting women down to hell. Yes, she was serious. That is why I learned to keep it a secret, and only give as much as my woman seemed to want, which was helpful, but not what I needed. I was frustrated. Even when I was getting it, I always wanted more sex. I did not want indiscriminant sex though; it just did not feel right. I really wanted a loving full-time relationship with just one woman, and that had me in a quandary of sorts. Then, I went back to UNLV for a year, and that is where I met Mary. She was twenty-two, and her daughter had just turned eight. Mary seemed insatiable. I loved her more than I could even articulate, but I went slowly because I was afraid I would lose her, just like all the others. Things went along fine, until she confessed to being a nymphomaniac, and told me how happy she was that I seem to like sex so much. Then things were more than fine. I confessed my problem to her, we confessed our love for each other, and then we got married on the Las Vegas strip later that day. What can I say? You have to act quickly when a good thing comes your way. Las Vegas is, well, the World’s capital of acting quickly. If you snooze, you lose. We enjoyed a wonderful marriage. It was not very long before we decided to have children together. We tried often (very, very often) for more children, but none came. The doctors confirmed I had no trouble at all with my sperm count. It was even abnormally high. There was one anomaly though. There always is, right? It seems that I was only firing X chromosomes, for some unknown reason. Many, many Xs – which meant, if Mary ever caught, we would be having girls – many, many girls. Anyway, the point is, my plumbing was working fine, so we could only conclude that Mary, for some unknown reason, was unable to have any more children. We gave up the idea. Instead of deliberately trying, we just enjoyed sex as often as hot as we could share it, without the need to worry about contraceptives or timing. Surprisingly, my stepdaughter Mindy was the one who was most disappointed when she found out. It seems she really, really wanted a little girl around the house to play with. Oh well, she would have to wait a few years, at least until she grew up and started a baby of her own. Then later, Mary started having trouble with yeast infections. Nothing that we tried seemed to help. Finally, I succeeded in persuading her to go to the doctor, who gave her a prescription and told her to avoid sex until it cleared up. We couldn’t keep away from each other, and soon her condition got worse. That’s when we discovered the polyps on her ovaries. She had surgery to have the polyps removed, but there were complications, and the yeast infections continued unabated. I felt very guilty. I thought that somehow all our constant unrelenting sex could have caused Mary’s problem, or made it worse. I respected her needs, though. I did not put any pressure on her. We managed to go six whole months without sex. Of course, after that much abstinence, I was a walking erection, ready to blow my load at the slightest provocation. I was a loaded gun with a hair trigger. Once, I was running a sander on the trunk of a car to prep it for a paint job, and I had to lean over the trunk to reach under the back window. The vibration of the sander made the trunk lid vibrate. When I leaned over, my chronically swollen erection touched the vibrating trunk lid through my shorts, and I blew my hot sticky load right there in my pants, just like that. I felt so bad. Mary was there. She noticed, but I tried not to make her feel bad about it. She probably already felt bad enough. I didn’t masturbate; it would be emotionally unfaithful to Mary, so I escaped by throwing myself into my work. I had to work VERY hard for that strategy to be effective, so it wasn’t long before I was making a lot more money. I usually ended up doing all the mechanic work by myself. Well, not all by myself. Mary handled the household and gardening stuff, and she used her spare time to finish her business degree online. Mindy assisted whenever she could with the cars and trucks I was restoring. She was very smart, and as I mentioned, she had become quite the mechanic’s helper. -- One hot humid Saturday in August, I was working, flat on my back, on a mechanic’s creeper, in the tight space under a classic Plymouth Barracuda convertible. It had great potential. I had decided to keep it for myself. I thought the thermometer must be broken. The digital readout said a hundred and thirty degrees. I knew it had to be at least a hundred and twenty five. We had the swamp cooler in the garage going full blast, but I was still sweating like a pig. I was trying to keep cool, so I wore only my loose boxers and a thin, well-worn t-shirt. I wore thin running shoes with short socks to keep my feet as cool as possible. Eventually, I even kicked off my shoes and pulled off my sweaty t-shirt. I was retrofitting a high-tech, six-speed automatic transmission into the car to replace the ailing original three-speed automatic. I needed to reroute the steel transmission fluid cooling tubes in order to accommodate everything. I was also installing a new engine computer, one that could understand and control the new six-speed-automatic transmission. I had selected the gear ratios carefully. This car would smoke the competition, yet get over thirty miles to the gallon on the freeway. Carefully, I mapped out the routes for the new steel tubes. On the workbench, I heated the tubes at each bend point, and then using a small pipe bender, I bent them to fit. They looked perfect. However, as is often the case with custom retrofits like this one, there were a few problems. I had to hold too many things all in place at the exact same time before I could even begin to think about threading the nuts over the flanges of the cooling tubes. After fumbling the job for the third time and scraping my knuckles painfully, I finally cursed – loudly. “Damn it!” I slid out on my creeper to reach for a shop rag, wiped the sweat off my hands to get a better grip, and slid back under the car, only to have the bulge of my big bad boner bump the protruding jack handle and challenge it to a duel. The jack handle won, um, hands down, so to speak. Unbelievably, it was actually harder than I was, but not by much. “Ouch! Damn!” "Daddy, are you okay?" My sweet young stepdaughter had been close by. She heard my expletives. "I'm okay, Baby, I just need sixteen fingers and four thumbs." “Looks like you already have three thumbs,” she said cheerily. “Huh?” I responded stupidly. I had to be mistaken, because Mindy could not have meant what just popped into my sex-crazed mind. She bent down to look under the Barracuda and saw the frustrated expression on my face. We spent a lot of time together and she knew how to read my moods as if they were her own. “It’s not going so well, is it?” She said it like it was a fact. “No, Girl, it’s not,” I agreed. “Did the jack handle hurt you?” Oh no, she had seen that too. Her tone of voice, the way she said it, made me think of all the times she had ever had a hurt, and Mary or I had offered to ‘kiss it and make it better’. I imagined Mindy kissing it to make it better, which of course only made it swell more, which made it hurt worse. I tried to push the errant thought out of my mind. I felt myself turning redder, as if that was even possible in the relentless heat of the Nevada desert summer. “No,” I downplayed, “well, yes, maybe it hurt a little, but don’t worry about it. I’ll be okay.” “Are you sure, Daddy?” “Yes. I’m sure. Thanks.” “Okay, then maybe we can fix your other problem.” “What other problem?” “You know, whatever is up with the car.” “Oh,” I mumbled, worried that she had been thinking about what was up with me. Then she sat on me, put her hands on my stomach, ducked her head, and hunched over and to the side to get a closer look under the classic convertible. She was wearing a short flared hip-skirt and a sleeveless crop- top t-shirt, so her simple, seemingly innocent action a surprise effect. Her short cotton skirt opened to accommodate the spreading of her smooth young legs, which pressed her panty-clad genitals firmly onto my bruised but still very swollen, boxer-covered manhood. My woody swelled even more in response to the hot wet pressure of her sweet teen sex. It was sort of like one of those long balloons on the business end of a helium tank. The old expression, ‘if you want it to feel better, soak it in cider’ popped into my head. I imagined myself soaking it inside her, and I quickly jammed the thought out of my fevered imagination. I forced myself to refocus on the task. “I’m just trying to add this six-speed automatic transmission and this computer adapter gizmo kit to the ‘Cuda,” I explained, as I pointed. “The computer makes it all work together electronically, which improves performance, mileage, and shifting. It’s also supposed to give me a bunch of security features and stuff.” “It sounds good to me.” “Yeah, but the problem is the custom exhaust system. The engineers did not design the kit with that in mind. So I had to reroute the tranny oil cooler tubes.” “The ones that go to the radiator,” she asked, “or did you get a separate cooler for the tranny?” “The radiator,” I replied, “but the tubes can’t go in until all the other parts are in place and the other parts can’t go in until the tubes are in place, so it all needs to go in at the same time.” She leaned down sideways to study the situation, still sitting on my genitals, which made her sweet young sex rotate on the underside of my sensitive swollen shaft through my way-too-thin boxers as she moved this way and that. Hot moisture began soaking through the thin cotton fabric of my boxers from her crotch and I thought I would die of a heart attack caused by excess sexual need, right on the spot. Could she be lubricating? I wondered about all that hot moisture which liberally soaked her panties and my boxers, right where the fabric was sandwiched between our genitals. Then I scolded myself as a sex-starved pervert. She was just sweating from the Nevada desert heat, the same as I was. She had to be, because her little cotton crop top was soaking wet with sweat too, and I could see the beautiful white skin on the bottom swell of her beautiful young breasts through the thin wet fabric. Anyway, I was lubricating prodigiously and all that wetness might be coming from my own overloaded testicles. I worried what Mindy might think, if she ever realized what she was sitting on and what it was doing. “I need to take a closer look,” she announced. "The other creeper is hanging on the back wall, Baby," I offered. "No need for the creeper," she announced, and then she slid down to my knees, put the side of her face right on my now very damp crotch, and began squeezing in on top of me. Her wet, firm, t-shirt-covered breasts rubbed me all the way from my manhood to the naked skin of my lower chest as she wiggled her way upward. The feel of her beautiful young braless breasts rubbing around on my hot sweaty chest through the sweat soaked fabric of her thin cotton t-top was, well, uncontrollably erotic to my sex-starved body. At last, she was all the way in. I was utterly and completely aroused. I wanted her. She had just rubbed the entire front of her body, from her face to her sex, on my swollen leaking member, and my sperm had probably smeared itself all over that entire area. The situation, however uncomfortable, seemed supremely erotic too, and I was embarrassed, and horny, all at the same time. She turned her head to the right and the left, wiggling her body to the left and right on my chest, all the better to examine the situation. All that movement made her crotch rub around on my massive manhood, arousing me beyond description. “Paddle-nosed vise-grips,” she concluded. “Huh?” I wasn’t thinking clearly, because she had interrupting my brain just as I was imagining how good it would feel if I were ever lucky enough to have my rock-hard woody buried in her sweet teen virgin vagina, squirting buckets of sperm into her tight little tummy. She turned her face to mine. “If you clamp a paddle-nose vise-grips here [she wiggled around to point], with part on the tube and part on the support rail, and then put a wooden shim here, [she wiggled to point the other way] then you can do it all without any extra thumbs.” Did I mention she is a genius? I looked at the situation, and ran through the steps in my mind. “You are right, Baby, this could work!” “Mm, it really could!” she breathed, as her sex pressed into mine and squirmed. “I’ll go get the grips and the shim.” Once again, I had to reel in the racing fantasies of my sex-starved brain. She couldn’t really mean what I had thought. She’s probably just trying to find a spot without uncomfortable lumps in it, I thought guiltily. Her lithe long legs spread to either side of my hips, and then she began her journey back out from under the car. As she wiggled out, her cotton top rolled up on her belly, then up and over her firm young breasts, which burned the naked skin of my hard sweaty abdomen like firebrands as they slipped around on my sweaty skin. It was so erotic to feel her hot nude breasts rubbing the bare skin of my hard abdomen. My balls were boiling. I was about to melt into a puddle of steamy creamy spooge, right on the spot. Every time she moved, some delicious part of her perfectly formed, petite, barely-teen body pressed into my swollen penis. I tried not to think about where my erection was and what it was touching, but the more I tried NOT to think about it, the less I could think about anything else. She crawled off me and disappeared from view. I heard the drawers to the toolbox opening and closing. I could not let on that she was having that kind of an effect on me. After all, I was her trusted stepfather. Then I remembered. I couldn’t use a socket with the paddle-grips in the way. I would need a box-end wrench. “Sweetie, I need a box end instead of the socket. Can you get that for me too?” "Sure, Daddy, what size?" "It’s nine-sixteenths." I heard her mutter, “Right, nine inches.” I had to be hallucinating. My brain must have fried from all the heat. Surely, I had misheard my stepdaughter. She could not mean what my sex-addled, perverted, dirty old mind thought she meant. Unable to get it out of my mind, I decided to get clarification. “What was that, Baby? I couldn’t hear you.” More tool drawers opened and closed. I did not hear a response. "Mindy?" "Right here, just a minute," She replied. My swollen erection was stretching my boxers, and the stretched boxers were strangling my nuts, which it turn were filled to bursting with half a year’s accumulation of my over-productive sperm. It felt like my nuts were each as big as a child’s softball, and I could not even close my legs all the way for fear of popping them like super-large and very overripe grapes. The boxers might yank my balls right off. Not wanting to live my life as a eunuch, I sent my left hand into my shorts to straighten out the mess. Ah, there! Then, I saw her, vise-grip, shim, mallet, and wrench in hand. Her other hand pressed onto my erection, as she positioned herself to sit back down on me. For a brief moment, just before she sat down, a cool breeze from the swamp- cooler seemed to blow lightly on the hot skin of my swollen erection. Had my woody worked its way out of the opening in the front of my boxers? I sincerely hoped this would not get any more embarrassing than it already was. "Sorry it’s so long, Daddy." "No problem," I replied, sure that she must be talking about the time, and not the length of my swollen member. She reached under the side of the car as she sat on me, and handed me the first tool: the paddle-nose vise-grips, which I dutifully adjusted and clamped on the support rail and the metal tube. The sensations of hot wet friction of her sex on mine were nothing short of amazing. Somewhere in my mind, I was wondering. The place where she was sitting felt different, and somehow, well – wetter and better. I made myself stay focused on what I was doing, too focused to give it any direct thought. After all, I did NOT want to end up doing something stupid. Then Mindy handed me the shim, which I jammed into its proper place. I imagined jamming something else in its proper place, because the feelings assaulting my body from where Mindy was sitting were overwhelming, and my testicles began roiling in anticipation of blowing their load. It was probably just as with the sander and the trunk lid, I thought. Only I couldn’t explain all that to my trusting stepdaughter. It just would not be right. Instead, I made myself concentrate on my work, to the exclusion of all else, just like in the book the good doctor had given me all those years ago. Mindy handed me the mallet I needed next. I hadn’t realized I would need it until I did need it. She had already known I would need it, and she already had it waiting. “Thanks, Mindy.” “Mm, my pleasure, Daddy.” “You’re a genius.” “I know.” No false modesty coming from that little girl, I thought. Mindy was wiggling up and down where she sat. The opening of her vagina rotated around on the huge knob of my swollen erection. Her pubes were rubbing vigorously on my hard abs. Then I realized – where she was sitting felt, well, much too slippery, as if her hot wet sex was in direct skin-to-skin contact with my bulging boner. Must – focus. I forced my mind back on task, and hammered the back of the shim, until the spacing was just right. This produced many additional interesting sensations in my groin area, where Mindy was sitting, but I resolutely remained in my Zen concentration mode – the mode I had used for so many years to avoid thinking about anything sexual. Then I set the mallet down, and reached for the box end wrench. Mindy reached down by her side to hand it to me. The end of the wrench went under the hem of her flared skirt, and when I brought it toward me, the front of her skirt lifted, revealing the sparse downy blonde hairs of her beautiful nude pussy mound, between the smooth-skinned thighs of her widespread legs. Her mound was pressing directly into the hard muscles of my abdomen. I was numb with shock. All the feelings I had been suppressing jumped to the fore. "Mindy! Where are your panties?" "I took them off, Daddy,” she said, breathing heavy as she scrubbed her naked sex around on my body. “I didn’t want them to get any dirtier because I won’t have any clean ones until tomorrow.” “Oh,” I said, still trying to ignore what she was doing, because I was too shocked and embarrassed by my own feelings, “that sounds reasonable, I guess.” “Uh-huh,” she gasped. Then it dawned on me just how wet and intimate her genital contact with my leaky lizard really felt. “Am, am, am I – exposed?” I stuttered. The friction felt far too much like real sex to ignore any longer. “Uh-huh.” She breathed, wiggled, and then pressing backward. The knob of my huge turgid rod began to stretch that hot moist opening between her beautiful young legs. “Uh-huh,” she repeated again, her eyes closed in concentration. She pressed back even harder, causing the tip of my erection to nose deeper into the small opening between the inner labia of her virgin vagina. “I love you, Daddy,” she whimpered as she pushed back quickly, making my swollen knob disappear entirely inside her hot wet vagina with a pop. The tightness of her small opening tried to strangle the narrow part of my turgid penis just below the knob. I gasped, and she groaned. It felt so incredible. Too incredible, so damn incredible that my aching, long neglected balls belched up a huge serving of baby-making spooge, which surged through the long tube of my swollen erection and blasted into the opening of her virginity. “Oh no; oh no,” I whimpered, as my stomach crunched up hard, and my body lay helpless and stiff in the paroxysms of orgasm. “Oh yes, oh yes,” she said at exactly the same moment. My swollen baby-maker kept right on belching up huge ropes of thick, sticky white baby-making goo. “Oh yes, Daddy! Yes! I can feel your stuff!” Then she groaned so loud, I couldn’t tell if it was joy or pain. Gobs of gooey sticky messy spooge surged up inside her small vagina, and kept right on surging. Some of it oozed out between us, coating my hard stomach with its slippery essence. "Oh, Mindy, I, um, I, I’m so sorry," I stammered, even as my balls kept trying to empty themselves inside my little girl. “It’s okay, Daddy," she said reassuringly, rubbing my exposed abs gently with her small hands, as if I were a scared little boy. “Poor, poor Daddy, you must have needed that so badly.” “I am SO sorry, Mindy.” The twitching and squirting had stopped, as my sudden orgasm wound down, but I was still as hard as carbon steel torque wrench. “Ooh, Daddy, I think you still need some help.” “No, Mindy, I’m fine, really.” “Don’t move, Daddy. I’ll take care of everything.” Without waiting for a response, she took a few short breaths and pushed back again, taking another millimeter of my swollen member inside her hot young body. My knob pressed firmly into her precious intact hymen, stretching it as thin as rice paper. “Baby, you don’t need to do this! I’m just fine!” I protested. “Shush, Daddy, I’m concentrating.” She took a few more quick panting breaths, and then pushed again, tearing her hymen to shreds and suddenly impaling her body another inch onto my huge swollen manhood. "Ouch," she whimpered, quietly. I scooted the creeper out from underneath the car, taking Mindy with me, still impaled on my huge erection. A single teardrop fell from her cute little nose onto my hairy chest. I did not know what else to do. I did not want to hurt her in any way, but here she was, hurt anyway. I felt so guilty. She lay down gingerly on my hairy chest, taking care to keep my erection inside her newly deflowered sex, and then she wrapped her slender arms around me and gave me the sweetest hug. I kissed the top of her head and caressed her hair and her back. A huge glop of my sperm pressed deeper into her virgin vagina, herded inward by the swollen drippy knob of my giant club. “I love you, Mindy. I really, really love you. You really don’t have to do this.” “I love you too, Daddy. I want to do this.” She sat back up, and slowly pulled off her top. She was very careful to keep my swollen monster inside her body as she did it. Now it was my turn to gasp. I watched, enthralled, first by her amazingly slender abdomen, then the beautiful smooth firm skin on the bottom swells of her amazing breasts, and then by her beautiful areola, topped with the most amazing dark cream-colored nipples. Her nipples had scrunched up into cute little nubs, in spite of the intolerable heat of the room. She finished pulling the top off over her head, tossed it to the cleanest spot she could find in the garage. Then, seeing a strand of her beautiful blonde hair hanging errantly, she took the clip off her hair and tossed her head, letting her beautiful wavy blonde hair drape all over her shoulders, back, and down her front. The effect was indescribable. In spite of the sweat and the grime, she was at that moment, the most beautiful and angelic creature I had ever seen in my life. Then she smiled at me, just like the angel she was, and the whole world lit up. I lay there, mesmerized, by the movements of her beautiful breasts as she gathered her hair carefully back together and re-clipped it. “I love you, Daddy,” she said again. Then she unsnapped and unzipped her short skirt and pulled it off over her head, making her completely nude, and looking like a perfect young goddess. I didn’t even know a girl could pull a skirt off over her head. Then she put her hands on my shoulders, lowered her amazing breasts to my eager chest, and lay down on me to put her hands gently on my cheeks. She smiled warmly, and kissed me full on the lips, slowly at first, then with building passion. Her hips rocked and her pubic bone pressed into my hard abdomen. Her sensitive young clit was rubbing on my skin, and she was breathing faster and heavier through her nostrils as the motion of her rocking hips became gradually more intense. Soon she was impaling my erection deeper and deeper into her hot wet heaven, using my turgid tool to conquer her own virginity, one small centimeter at a time. I reached down and caressed her beautiful round butt, her muscular thighs, and the precious little area between her firm young legs, and it drove her on to greater and greater thrusts. Soon her hot young body began taking half my swollen manhood inside her hot wet vagina with each rotation of her beautiful slender hips. I answered her lips with mine, and then she pressed her tongue between my lips and into my mouth. Stepdaughter or not, I had completely lost control. Though I had just dumped a load into Mindy’s young body and all over both of us, I needed sex so much, and here was the most beautiful young girl I had ever met, giving me the priceless gift of her first love. We kept going. Now her naked firm young breasts scrubbed frantically into the hairy skin of my chest as her hips rotated on mine, gradually surrendering more and more of her precious virginity to my turgid tool with every passing second. The pressure of my sperm, having nowhere else to go, built up in front of my invading piston. “Oh,” she groaned, “it feels so full.” Suddenly the pressure released, her vagina easily swallowed another two inches of my manhood, and my knob pressed into her virgin cervix. Her cervix had opened up to swallow all my sperm. I had pushed it all, like a piston, all the way into her womb! “Oh, Daddy, I can feel it! It’s going all the way inside me!” “I love you so much, Mindy!” I kissed her full on the lips, and she returned the kiss with unbridled passion. I put my hands on her beautiful bottom, and guided her hips as I drew my swollen erection outward, and then pressed it slowly back in. We groaned our passion into each other’s mouths, and then I pressed back in again all the way, bumping and massaging her cervix with every long slow thrust. “Mm, Daddy,” she moaned, taking her lips from mine to get more air. “It’s tickling me on the inside!” Her long slow thrusts now took most of my baby-maker inside her hot young body. “Oh, Mindy, that feels incredible!” "Yes. You feel so, very right, way up inside me," she said dreamily, as she rocked back and forth. “It’s like, the universe made us, just for this moment.” I began answering her thrusts with thrusts of my own, and soon my swollen rod drew all the way out and pressed all the way back into Mindy’s hot young body. “You feel so good – so very, very good.” She didn’t say anything. She was too busy thrusting and panting and pressing her clit harder into my pubic bone. Her breathing turned into small gasps. It was obvious her orgasm was near. “Oh, Daddy, I’m buzzing. It’s coming, oh, Daddy!” Soon her actions were growing frantic as she struggled to get the release she felt rising inside her. My testicles roiled again, as the remainder of my sperm collected in the blast chamber, ready to blow through my turgid baby-maker into Mindy’s womb. I know you will think I am stupid. Maybe I am stupid. Maybe it was because it had been so many years since I had to worry about getting Mindy’s mother pregnant. Until that very moment, it hadn’t even occurred to me to worry about getting Mindy pregnant, even though I had already felt her hot, sticky, stringy vaginal discharge, and even though I had known she had started her period two weeks earlier. I suddenly realized, on a conscious ‘oh no’ level, that she was fertile. I would be making her pregnant. Maybe I had already made her pregnant. A bit of quick calendar math confirmed my fears. She was right in the middle of her cycle. “Mindy, stop,” I said urgently, “You could get pregnant.” It was a stupid thing to say, because I had already filled her body with enough baby-making spooge to populate half a planet, and here I was, about to do it again. “Uh-huh,” she said as she continued to hump my bone with all her energy. “But, Mindy...” I started. An inarticulate syllable, something that sounded a lot like “Mmggrr,” squeezed out of her delicate throat. She thrust hard onto my erect manhood and every muscle in her firm young body clenched into knots. She seemed to turn into a marble statue, as hard as a rock all over except her breasts, which flattened against my hairy sweaty chest. The strong young muscles in her tight tummy milked my swollen baby-maker for all it could give. The tip of my baby- maker fit itself tightly into her cervical opening, aiming directly into her unprotected womb. I tried to yell out, “No Mindy,” but it was too late. It sounded more like, “Nn mndrrg.” There was no way to pull out in time. I gripped her close in my arms and hunched up as my abdominal muscles contracted involuntarily. My orgasm welled up in my balls and another huge load of baby-making sperm began rocketing into the depths of Mindy’s dangerously fertile and completely unprotected young womb. “Oh no,” I groaned, as the next load welled up and fired into the depths of her body. I could imagine her waiting egg, drenched in millions of eager sperm, all fighting to be the first to start new life inside her sweet young body. It would be a baby girl. Then I imagined how beautiful and intelligent and amazingly cute our little baby girl would be, and I was lost. I WANTED to make her pregnant. “Yes, I feel it,” Mindy hissed, “Oh yes, Daddy!” Eight more solid blasts of virile sperm rocketed deep into Mindy’s fertile womb. I felt terrible and elated beyond comprehension. I was probably making a baby in my sweet, beautiful, and way too young stepdaughter. I was enjoying my first sex in over six months. What hell. What heaven. My testicles kept churning, my prostate kept twitching, and my baby-making machine kept throbbing, long after all my sperm had emptied into Mindy’s womb. She rested the side of her face on my chest and hugged me close, and we lay like that for several minutes, basking in the glow of our union. Our heart rate and our labored breathing began to slow. "Mindy, I'm so sorry," I apologized, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” “I did,” she said with a smile. “Mindy, you could be pregnant.” “Uh-huh,” she agreed, smiling as if it were the most wonderful thing in the world, “That’s how I’m going to get that baby sister I always wanted, except she’ll be my daughter too, and Mom’s granddaughter, and your granddaughter, and your daughter too! How cool is that?” “I, um, um...” I think we have a job to finish, don’t you?” “Huh?” “You still have to tighten your nuts, Silly.” “Huh?” “On your tube” “My tube?” “You know, the cooling tubes – for the car?” “Oh yeah, duh.” We scooted back under the car, with her laying nude on my chest, and my woody still buried to the hilt inside her body. I went to work, trying to function as if everything were completely normal, but I was worried sick about the possible long-term consequences of what we had done. "Done," she said proudly, as she saw me set down the wrench. “Now let’s come inside – no wait, you already did that.” She paused to grin playfully at her sexual pun before she continued. “Let’s go inside and get cleaned up,” she clarified, “I’ve got grease all over me, and I probably have your big greasy handprints all over my butt!” she grinned broadly. We scooted back out on the creeper, and she stood, reluctantly. “Bye, bye big guy,” she said looking in mock sadness at my wilting Willie as it slipped out of her, “I hope I see you again soon.” I lay there overwhelmed for a few moments, trying to assimilate my new experiences, trying to figure out if it was an accident or if Mindy actually set out to seduce me, before I rolled out and got up, adjusting my boxers as I did. Mindy was sitting on the tall workbench stool, spinning in circles, with her feet kicking outward like a little girl. She had already put her panties, skirt, and top back on. She was quick when she wanted to be. "Thank you, Daddy. I really liked helping you with your tube and your tool and your nuts," she said, with a cute impish grin. “You little stinker,” I said as I stood, adjusted my boxers to cover my deflated evidence, pulled down my shirt, slipped back into my shoes, and we started toward the house. “I think we should do that again, as often as we can,” she said, thoughtfully. “I can’t imagine THAT would ever get boring!” “You don’t know what you’d be getting yourself into,” I cautioned. “I could do that a lot!” “Mom says you’re a Satyr, so I guess I DO know what I’m getting myself into.” “What’s Mom doing telling you about that?” “Why not? I’m fourteen already,” she said, as if that explained everything. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. “I love you, Daddy,” she said, giving me a warm, breast-squeezing hug. “I love you too, Mindy,” I said, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm. As we walked in the door, Mary greeted us. "Hi, Mindy, did you do it?" "Yes, Mom. Daddy was having a problem with his tube! I lubricated his knob and got his tool out for him, and then he tightened his nuts, and then I helped him get his tool off," she said with a grin. I just about died as I looked at Mindy’s wicked little grin. She was going to get me killed if she kept that up. “That’s nice, Mindy,” she grinned, “His equipment needs to be cared for daily, and without some attention, it might just up and disappear.” Mary’s response seemed just as impish as Mindy’s had been. I was dumbfounded, “You put her up to this?” “Up to what dear,” my wife said sweetly, blinking at me innocently. “I um, well, um,” I stammered, thinking that maybe she had not known what Mindy had done and I had just put my size twelve down my own throat up to my ankle. Then Mary hugged me, letting me off the hook. “It was Mindy’s idea, Hun,” she said, “She wanted you, and she wanted a baby to play with. She’s young, beautiful, and fertile. I know how much you’ve always wanted a baby, and I can’t have one anymore, so we figured what the heck.” “What the heck? You’re okay with that?” “Mindy’s been bugging us for a baby for years now, so I finally agreed if she wanted one she would have to help out. This way, we all get everything we want.” “You do?” I asked as I turned back to Mindy. “Uh-huh,” she said, “I’ve wanted to have your baby ever since I was eight!” “My baby,” I parroted, stupidly, “Eight?” “Uh-huh.” “Since you were eight?” “Yes, Daddy, ever since I saw you and Mom going at it like bunnies all over the house!” “You saw?” “Uh-huh,” she said, her voice turning sad, “Then Mom and I talked about it, but she wouldn’t let me do it. She said I was too young.” “Well,” said Mary, “You WERE too young.” “Yeah, but I kept bugging her and bugging her, until she said okay! Isn’t that the coolest?” “Oh.” It was all I could manage to say for several uncomfortable seconds, as I pondered how weird and yet how perfectly wonderful the new situation felt. “So?” prompted Mary. “Why didn’t anybody say anything? I thought I had turned into a child- raping sicko pervert and I hated myself for loving it so much!” “Well,” mused Mindy, “child: I guess so, at least legally, but raping? Well I guess I did sort of rape you...” “I see I taught you well,” Mary giggled. “And ‘sicko pervert’: well, aren’t most men? Anyway, you have an excuse because you’re a satyr. I love it because that means I get to use your tools way more often.” My Johnson began swelling again at the thought of this delectable beauty 'using my tools’ on a regular basis. “I’ve got really good news,” my wife interjected, “The doctor seems to think I can start having sex again in a week or two. We’re trying a new medication.” “What happens then?” “Well I guess we’ll just have to share you darling,” she responded with a grin, “but just so you know, we both intend to love you forever, right, Mindy?” “Right, Mom,” she said, “but right now I need to clean his tools and put them away. Would you like to help, Mom?” “Sure,” Mary said as they each grabbed an arm and led me to the shower. Mary and Mindy both started pulling off their clothing as they walked. “Let’s clean his tools very, very well,” urged Mindy, as she licked her lips. “I intend to use them at least twice a day until I know they’ve done their job, and then I intend to practice with his equipment every day after so I don’t forget how to use it.” Now Mindy was entirely nude. I saw the long pink-tinged rivulet of sperm on the inside of her thighs, running down to her calves, caking as it dried on her smooth young skin. Mindy started working my boxers off my hips. I hoped I wouldn’t trip when the boxers fell to my feet. “You don’t mind if Mindy uses your equipment a lot do you dear?” asked Mary sweetly. “Not at all, dear. You can both use my tools anytime you want. After all, we are a family. My tools are your tools right?” “Right,” they both chimed in together, and we all laughed. -- It has been a few years. It seems that Mindy inherited her sexual desire from her mother. Between the two of them, even a satyr like me wears out. My food bill is up, and my productivity is down, but we still manage. Manage might be a bit of an understatement. The value of our acreage skyrocketed, and I sold off all but five acres to a developer for several million dollars. Later, I invested part of it with a friend who had a concept for a social website, and Goo... err, I mean, well, a large corporation – bought the company, the concept, and all the software for almost two-hundred million. I only got forty-five million of it to keep (darn!), which we invested in a profitable mutual fund. My passive income, about three-hundred-thousand dollars a month, is more than we can ever spend, for the rest of our lives. We used a part of the remainder to buy a second home on a mountainside overlooking the beautiful lights of Las Vegas, and we split our time between our two homes. Mindy could afford any education she wanted, and so she is already most of the way through college, at the ripe old age of seventeen. It turns out Mindy is interested in genetics – more specifically, the genetic causes of sexual ‘disorders’ like ours. She did all this while giving our family two beautiful daughters. She has another bun in the oven. Obviously, it’s a girl too. After a series of expensive medical protocols, Mary finally has a bun in the oven too, another little girl. That means that in a few more months, the three of us will have four little girls running around. Little girls are so cute. I love it that my satyr’s testes are only producing X chromosomes. Mindy and I still like to restore classic muscle cars, but now we outsource whatever we don’t find ‘fun’. We have a collection, consisting of more than eighty classic cars. One of the major casino holding companies pays us well to keep some of those cars in their classic car museum, which takes up the entire fifth floor of their flagship casino on the Las Vegas strip. Mindy has been the ideal mechanics helper. Yes. That way, too, you pervert. We’ve all been in absolute heaven ever since. Nevertheless, I’m going to have to carry a big shotgun when my baby girls start to grow up, especially if they’ve inherited what we’re calling the Johnson-Satyr-Nymph gene-set. --