BB-218  A Hot Mouth For Daddy
(Warren Bisig)


CHAPTER ONE 

Little Lorie. Little Annie Lorie. Little Lorie Lorie? Shit! Little 
cock-teaser was what she was! 

Steve watched his daughter lean far forward over the passenger side of the 
car and kiss Rudy, her boyfriend. The micro-mini rode high, displaying the 
pink halves of her nylon-clad ass. Christ! he thought. Back in his day, the 
fifties-when fourteen-year-olds wore tent-like skirts, bobby socks, and 
blouses that actually hid their titties-a kiss like that meant a sure screw 
in the back seat. 

The souped-up Ford rumbled. Lorie stepped back and waved as the car burned 
rubber and shot away from the curb. A sudden breeze, carrying with it a fine 
salt mist off the Atlantic, plastered the yellow skirt to her round hips. 
She wore no bra. The wind toyed with her sleeveless blouse, emphasizing her 
small, party-hat breasts. 

On the porch Steve groaned. There was a familiar tightness in his chest. 
More and more lately, he was looking at Lorie with the eyes of a man on the 
make. The girl was her mother all over again; the same straight white-blonde 
hair, green eyes and feathery lashes, the same pert little ass, fleshy 
thighs, and provocative little round belly above the dip to her crotch. Now 
he wondered if the tight bristles between her lovely young legs were as 
blonde and soft as the velvety scruff Midge called her "egg harbor." 

"Steve?" Midge's head appeared at the door. Her hair was frizzy from the 
heat of the stove. "Supper's ready." 

He crossed his legs to hide his half-hard cock. He watched Lorie skip up the 
walk, step onto the porch, and lean back against the screen door. Her gaze 
dropped to his lap. She grinned. "In a minute," he told Midge. He didn't see 
the flash of anger in Midge's eyes before she disappeared into the house. He 
was too busy eyeing Lorie-his Lorie-who seemed to know what he was thinking 
and seemed not the least bit embarrassed by the bulge in his pants. He 
thought back, trying to remember when the tomboy with pigtails became the 
enticing girl now matching his stare for stare. 

The sound of silverware and plates being slammed down on the table came from 
the house. Lorie parked her saucy behind close beside him on the wicker 
couch. She sat sidesaddle-one leg up, thighs wide. "You and Mom fighting 
again?" she asked. 

Steve cleared his throat. It was as if the girl had read his earlier 
thoughts and now wanted to prove that the hair on her pussy was indeed 
platinum-blonde. He could see a clump of the downy stuff at the legband of 
her panties and there was a hint of dampness where the white nylon was stuck 
in the pouting lips of her little-girl cunt. His dick throbbed; his balls 
were being squeezed in a nutcracker, it seemed. 

"Your mother's getting old," he managed in a shaky voice. "She's always 
bitching lately ... like an old cow afraid of drying up." 

"Moo!" Lorie showed her teeth. Planting both feet on the couch, she locked 
her arms around her knees and cocked her cute head at him. She studied him 
for a moment, then said, "Isn't she giving you any?" 

"That's no way to talk about your mother," snapped Steve. "Especially to 
me!" 

"Oh, Daddy." Lori scowled. "This is 1973 and everyone talks about sex. It's 
not like when you and Mummy were young and had to sneak off and do it in the 
back seat of the car. Now it's fun." 

Again Steve feasted his hungry gaze on his daughter's damp crotch. With her 
legs up, he could see the lush mound of her heart-shaped pussy and the 
alluring crack where the nylon was sunk deep in the crack of her ass. What 
would she do if, without warning, without a word, he touched the smooth 
underside of her thigh, he wondered. Would she be frightened? Shocked? Or 
would she smile the way she did while prancing around the house in shorty 
pajamas-pajamas she knew goddam well he could see through! 

With difficulty, he forced the thoughts from his mind. The banging from 
within the house was louder. Reluctantly he said, "We'd better go in for 
supper before your mother breaks every dish in the place." 

Lori giggled. She leaned suddenly toward him-like a sparrow, a swift, 
delightfully excited bird-and gave him a pecking kiss on the lips. "I love 
you, Daddy," she whispered before leaping from the couch and darting into 
the living room. 

He retreated to the porch again while Lorie and Midge did the dishes. It was 
a balmy evening. Janice, the sixteen-year-old across the way, had come out 
to water the mournful flowerbed in front of the Mitchell bungalow. He liked 
Janice; he liked the skintight jeans she wore, the cuffs cut ragged at 
mid-thigh. He liked too the way the skimpy halter hugged her melon breasts. 
He stood at the screen door and watched her, looking from her to the 
Anderson girl, who lay asleep on the hammock next door, and thought how good 
life was. 

Down the street, Dave Snider's willowy wife was hosing the grit from the 
family car. The sun was beginning to set, bathing the coast in soft purples, 
golds, and reds. The night breeze, heavy with the smell of fish from the 
boats docking a walking distance away, was subduing the heat with the 
gentleness of a mother's touch. This was the time he liked best-when the sky 
became crowded with stars, and a casual atmosphere that didn't exist in the 
city fell over the shore area. And cunt! Cunt all over the place! 

"Darn it, anyway!" Janice was having trouble with the sun-baked hose. She 
turned two white round patches toward him, bent to tap the nozzle on a 
stone. 

And asses! Steve mused. Cunt and ass everywhere. Each year since shortly 
after Lorie was born he and Midge had spent their summers here. But this 
year was different ... special. He was no longer a twenty-year-man in Uncle 
Sam's Army. There was a comfortable pension to see to the family needs, an 
executive's job nine months a year, and three solid months of vacation to 
make up for the extra-marital fucking he'd been missing while a goody-good 
in a uniform with captain's stripes. 

Opening the screen door, he stepped from the porch and walked leisurely 
across the sand and gravel street. His shoes made small crunching noises. 
Janice looked back over her shoulder, grinned. "Hi," she sang. "I don't 
suppose you know anything about hoses?" 

"I can try." Steve took the hose from her hand. Her cool slender fingers 
brushed his. He remembered the tight cunt-Lorie's pussy-he'd seen half an 
hour before, and felt his cock stirring. Unscrewing the nozzle, he blew into 
the hose-pretending to know what he was doing, while eyeing the creamy upper 
halves of the girl's huge breasts. 

Janice was the neighborhood rip-off, he knew. The summer before, she and 
Dave Snider were caught together in the nude-apparently getting ready to 
screw-in the back seat of Dave's car. He'd like to get Janice in the back of 
a car, Steve thought. Or in a bed, on the beach, anywhere. "Nothing wrong 
with the nozzle," he said, his dick beginning to leap about in his pants 
leg. "Did you check to see if the water's turned on at the main?" 

Janice frowned. "What the heck is a 'main'?" 

Steve laughed. He eyed the cinder block foundation of the Mitchell summer 
home. "Under there somewhere," he said, pointing. "There should be a door 
around back and maybe four feet of crawling space." 

"I knew I shouldn't have agreed when Daddy asked me to water his dumb 
flowers." Janice sighed. Her breasts almost popped free of the halter. "Oh, 
well," she added. "Let's go find the dumb thing." 

Steve followed her swishing hips to the rear of the bungalow. Each step 
pulled the dungarees tighter across her plump buttocks, emphasizing the lush 
crack. Her full thighs rubbed together, making the denim hiss. By the time 
they reached the wooden door in the foundation, his prick was so hard he 
thought sure it was going to burst free and attack her without help from 
him. 

They had to crouch on hands and knees. He let Janice go first, but followed 
close behind. She chatted incessantly, but his face was mere inches from the 
deep split up her backside, and he was too horny, too ready to screw, to 
hear what the girl said. He held back. Until Janice banged her knee on a 
rock, fell forward onto her belly, and yelped, "Ouch! Oh, cock-sucker!" 

Steve came down on her, as if by accident. He centered the rigid pole in his 
pants between her delectable thighs, pressed. The blood pounded at his 
temples. He said something, something inane, all the time pressing, sawing 
his dick in and out of the hot pocket at the crotch of the jeans. 

Janice squirmed. "Um. I ... I thought we came in here to find the main?" 

"I found it," choked Steve, undoing the clasp at her back. The bikini-like 
top fell away. He cupped her soft breasts. With thumb and forefinger, he 
worked her nipples while grinding against the jiggling halves of her ass. 

"C'mon," whispered Janice unconvincingly. 

"I intend to," breathed Steve into her ear. "Just as soon as I get your 
pants off." 

Kneading one tit, he moved his free hand down over her belly to the 
waistband of the tight jeans. She continued to protest and squirm until he 
undid the zipper, stole beneath the denim and began to rub her pubic mound. 
Her hips bucked. Her buttocks tightened on the shaft of his sawing cock. 

"Should I stop?" Steve found the legband of the panties and drove two 
fingers high in her juicy slit. 

"Oh. Ohahhh." Janice rolled beneath him and answered by mashing her soft 
open lips to his. Her hand found his fly. Hastily she worked the zipper, 
dove inside, and wrapped small anxious fingers around his rigid meat. 

It was Steve's turn to gasp and strain. He felt the night air on the knob of 
his cock as she freed it and reached back inside the pants to fondle his 
balls. Sucking her mouth, his dick threatening to explode before it was 
sheathed, he yanked the jeans and panties off her hips. He broke her kiss, 
kneeled to undo his belt. "Jesus!" he groaned, staring down at the white 
flesh--legs wide at either side of his-the clump of black cunthair and pink 
gash, open and ready to receive his enraged member. 

"It ... it's so big," cooed Janice, eyes wide as she sat up and closed both 
tiny hands at the hairy roots of his sex. She leaned forward, heavy tits 
swaying away from her body. Still cooing, she touched her moist lips to the 
glans. 

"Ahhhhhh!" Steve's hips shot forward. 

"Can I suck it, Steve?" 

"Motherfucker! You-ummmmmm! You can do anything you want with it. Only do it 
quick." 

Without hesitation, Janice bent lower and drew the fat tip into her mouth. 
Her fiery tongue swirled ... wetting ... teasing him. She let her prize 
escape, flattened her tongue at the base and licked slowly upward. 

"Suck it, honey." Roughly Steve took hold of the girl's head, not caring if 
he hurt her, and forced the knob of his cock deep inside her small hot 
mouth. She gagged. He locked his fingers in her hair, pressed 
forward-pumping it into her face until her lips were flush with his 
cockhair. 

Janice began to make loud sucking noises. With his cubes in the palm of her 
hand, she probed his asshole with one tiny finger. 

"What the fuck?" Steve's buttocks tightened. His dick leaped as the fiery 
little dart slid home, torturing his sphincters. But there was a more 
profound torture, a hungry demon, building in his sacs. The tongue swirled, 
the mouth moved up and down, the girl whined. And deep in the pit of his 
belly the semen began to rise, began to make the climb to the aperture at 
the head of his tool. 

Janice must have sensed that he was close to orgasm, Her head, moved 
faster-up-down, up-down, red hair dancing. She guided one of his hands to 
her pussy, moved her hips sensuously. "Finger me," she moaned. "Hurry!" 

Steve obliged. Forcing all four fingers up her gaped open slit, he toyed 
with her clit and worked the slippery inner walls of her vagina. She was big 
down there. Big and hot and exuding the fishy smell of a woman in heat. But 
there was a sweetness to the smell; the special fragrance of a young eager 
girl. 

Suddenly, Janice drove her stinkfinger high in his asshole, and the cum, 
spurt after thick spurt, flew from the glans of his pistoning rod. 

Moaning, the girl gulped. She pulled back, until only the swollen tip was in 
her mouth. She kneaded his balls, fucked her finger in and out of his 
rectum, coaxing more gism. She sucked until a last forlorn drop trickled 
off, then allowed his meat to pop noisily from her face. 

Panting, cock only slightly less hard, Steve fell back on the sandy ground 
and watched her lick the last pearly drops from the corner of her mouth. He 
reached for her, took her hand, and pulled her down across his body. He 
closed his eyes, wanting to rest a moment before he climbed between her full 
white thighs. But Lori was there, inside his head in her pink see-through 
pajamas. Her lips moved slowly toward his lap. Her fingers toyed with his 
belt buckle. She was driving him crazy, and she knew it, he was certain. She 
was fourteen, old enough to know what she was doing. And what she was doing 
was making him want her more and more. 

"I thought soldiers were supposed to be tough?" Janice flicked her tongue 
across his nipples. Again her hand closed on his cock. She threw one leg 
over his, rubbing her wet pussy up and down his muscular thigh. 

"I'm an ex-soldier," Steve corrected. "Uncle Sam divorced me. But I can 
still out maneuver, out shoot and out fuck the best of them." Cupping the 
girl's, wide soft ass, he arranged her atop and astraddle his body. He 
reached for his cock. Setting the mighty tip at the lips of her cunt, he 
drove upward. 

"Steeeeeeeve!" cried Janice as the entire length bored into her sopping wet 
hole. 

Loris was slouched on the sofa watching TV when he came in. She waved at him 
and shifted to make room. She was wearing the flimsy pajamas he'd envisioned 
while lying with Janice beneath the Mitchell bungalow, and he could see her 
pert nipples in the light from the lamp on the end table. Flopping beside 
her, he stored fastidiously at the variety show on the tube. 

The show was the usual collection of trained dogs, an unfunny comedian, and 
a singer who sounded more like a gargler for a mouthwash commercial. There 
were puppets for the kids, too much applause, and an audience participation 
thing that left the volunteers looking like boobs. After half an hour, his 
eyes burned and he was ready to join Midge in bed. He glanced sidelong at 
Lorie. She too was nodding. She was curled at the corner of the sofa, bathed 
in soft light. The tightness returned to his chest. 

It was all wrong, he told himself. This was his daughter, his Lori, the 
sweet baby he used to bounce on his knee. But the smell of Janice clung to 
his hand and he couldn't stop thinking about the thatch of blonde hair he'd 
seen when Lori raised her legs-for him? Had she done it because she knew he 
wanted her to?-on the porch. His breathing grew labored. He waited. 

Finally his daughter's small chin dropped to her breast. He listened to her 
sigh, watched her breasts set a steady rhythm as she sank into sleep. His 
gaze traveled longingly up her thigh, to where the legband of the pajamas 
dug into her flesh. And above, to the pointed tits that reminded him so of 
the hats kids wore at birthday parties. Although he had taken Janice again 
and again, fucking until he thought sure his nuts would shrivel and drop 
off, the sight of Lori-smooth, blemishless skin glowing through the night 
garment--sent the hot blood gushing into his lower abdomen. How many men 
fucked their daughters, he wondered. But then-how many fathers had daughters 
like Lori ... all pink and white curves and softness, and shaking her tight 
little ass in Daddy's face. 

His heart raced. He took a deep breath. Hand suspended above the elastic 
legband of the shorty pajamas, dick bloated inside his pants, he waited 
another moment to be sure she was asleep. His nymphet was adorable. She lay 
with her head on the arm of the sofa, the top of the nightie pulled taut 
across one little breast. Her succulent nipple seemed to cry, "Kiss me, 
Daddy. Squeeze me. Put me in your mouth." 

With trembling fingers, he worked the leg-band back until the plump 
underside of one buttock was free. He touched her, groaned. She was softer 
than cotton, her cheeks dimpled. He worked the garment farther back ... 
until his fingers grazed the hot inward slant, the downward slope, the 
whiter than white area where her buttocks dipped together and cut a deep 
silky runway to an asshole he knew would be tighter than any rear entry he'd 
ever humped his long prick into. 

His fingertips met her soft down. "Lori!" he hissed, wanting her. Wanting 
her more than anything in the world. He traced the hair that began low in 
the crack of her ass, thickened as it continued down and under, and opened 
into a blonde V that surrounded her wet cuntlips. 

"Sweet Lori. Sweet baby, don't wake up." He couldn't wait any longer; he no 
longer cared that she was his daughter, fourteen years old, and that what he 
was about to do was the cardinal sin. Incest! But he didn't care. Already he 
had his fly open, hard cock in hand. And he didn't care about anything 
except driving those ten inches of manmeat into her belly. 

Her cunt seemed to breathe on his fingers. It opened and closed, trapping 
him. He felt her clit rise up tall. Again she sighed, slipping farther down 
on the cushions, as if purposely drawing his finger into her cunthole. She 
was so small and lovely, so willing it seemed in sleep. 

Little Lorie Lorie, Steve thought, the kid with the platinum snatch. She was 
going to get his stiff dick in her-daughter or not! 

With maddening slowness, careful not to wake her and savoring every inch of 
her backside, he worked the pajama bottoms off her hips. There were no 
panties to hamper his progress; Lorie never wore more than the flimsy night 
garment to bed. He'd watched her night after night cross in front of the 
lighted TV, as if daring him. She had to be aware of what she was doing, he 
thought. Did she think there was water instead of blood in his veins? And 
the way she'd kissed Rudy! No innocent girl kissed like that! He was willing 
to bet a month's pay the boy had been sucking her tongue while he watched 
from the porch. 

As the night garment slipped farther and farther down, revealing more and 
more of the girl's secret blonde parts, Steve eased himself onto the 
cushions close behind her. The sensitive head of his dick grazed a hot mound 
of ass flesh. Electric fire shot through his loins. With hands that refused 
to stop shaking, he maneuvered the pajamas all the way off her round 
backside. He left them bunched at the top of her slim thighs-slim but fleshy 
in that unique way little girls have of becoming a woman. His head swam. His 
breathing grew ragged. The room seemed to spin as he set the bloated knob of 
his cock at the mouth of her little-girl pussy. 

"Steve? Are you coming to bed tonight, or do I have to sleep alone again?" 

Jesus H. Christ! he objected mentally. Of all the goddam nights for Midge to 
want screwing, she had to pick this one! 

He leaped fumbling with his fly. from the sofa. But it was already too late. 
Lori was blinking at him with disbelieving eyes. Her small hand groped for 
the pajama bottoms, mouth opening wider and wider as realization dawned. 

"I ... I'm sorry, honey," he croaked, searching for something adequate to 
say. But there was nothing to say, the stiff meat protruding from his pants 
said it all. 

Demurely, Lori placed one hand over her little blonde pussy. She studied him 
a moment. Then her eyelashes began to flutter. She grinned, shook her small 
head. "Shame on you, Daddy," she said, barely above a whisper. "You're 
always lecturing me and you're really nothing but a dirty old man." 

 CHAPTER TWO 

It was Sunday and Midge and Lori had left early to spend the day with 
Midge's folks. As he did every week, Steve began to putter outside the 
bungalow, replacing a loose shingle here, weeding a clump of crabgrass from 
the sandy soil there. By midmorning the sun was a fiery orange ball in the 
cloudless blue sky and was beating like hot hammer blows on his sweaty back. 

Stu and Lyn Anderson appeared in the gravel drive next door. Lyn was a 
stacked little brunette, with tits that pointed skyward and hips that were 
too big for the tight skirts she wore. Steve had often wondered what she'd 
be like in bed. 

"Hey, Steve-o," called Stu. "How about weeding my place while you're at it?" 

"Sure thing." Steve's gaze traveled slowly up Lyn's short trim legs. He had 
other crabgrass in mind. 

"There's brew in the frig," continued Stu. "Put Betty to work, too. That 
goddam kid sits around like she owns the place." 

A small dark head shot out of the window overlooking the drive. "Hey, Pop?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Drop dead, will ya?" Betty wagged a pink tongue at Stu. Her huge brown eyes 
flashed. She was younger than Lorie by more than a year, Steve knew. Yet her 
tits had already begun to thrust hard little nipples out at the world, and 
when she wore shorts or slacks, the soft rise of her sex formed a 
provocative V. 

Steve watched his neighbor throw up his hands in exasperation. "Kids!" the 
man bellowed. "Can't do a goddam thing with 'em. Help yourself to the beer, 
Steve. You know where the kitchen's at." 

The Andersons climbed into the new station wagon backed into the drive. The 
motor purred. "If that brat gives you any lip," called Stu as the car rolled 
onto the street, "put a foot in her ass." 

Steve glanced to the window, where Betty stood with chin propped on folded 
arms. She eyed him defiantly. He grinned She scowled. "Wanna give me a 
hand?" he asked. 

"Ha!" 

"What's that mean?" 

"Drop dead!" 

What she needed was more than a foot in her ass, thought Steve. He could 
imagine himself coming up behind her, lifting the housecoat she wore, and 
teaching her some manners by driving a stiff dick up her brown. He studied 
her mouth. He'd never been too keen on blowjobs ... until Janice showed him 
what a good cocksucker could do. Now he stared speculatively at the Anderson 
girl's bowed pink lips, and could almost feel her sharp teeth. Damn! he 
admonished himself. What in hell was wrong with him, anyway? First Lori, 
then Janice last night and Lori again, and now his neighbor's 
twelve-year-old. He was indeed becoming a dirty old man. 

"Behave!" he told Betty. "Or I may take your father's advice, and fix it so 
you won't be sitting down for a week." Again he imagined himself coming up 
behind her. 

"You're not big enough," retorted Betty. 

Steve winced when she slammed the screen shut, walked across the room, and 
fell back onto what he supposed was the bed. One small round knee rose above 
the level of the window sill. He wiped sweat from his brow. The girl was as 
bad as Lori with her cock-teasing. 

He worked on the Anderson drive for half an hour, until the sweat stung his 
eyes and the wet shorts dug into his crotch. The cold beer Stu Anderson had 
offered seemed like a good idea. He strode to the rear entrance and, 
remembering how Betty had looked asleep on the hammock the afternoon before, 
entered the bungalow. 

The air conditioner in the living room hummed cool air into the kitchen. A 
long hall stretched from one end of the house to the other, the bedrooms 
branching off on either side. He eyed the girl's room, She was in there, 
perhaps naked beneath the shorty housecoat, he thought. Her young body would 
be soft, even softer than Lori's, cunt tight! His dick stirred. Lately he 
seemed to think about nothing but fucking. 

He opened a beer, guzzled half the can, moved back to the hall, and stood 
staring at the open door to Betty's room. His nuts grew tight, aching to 
unload. He finished the beer, got another-unable to forget the girl's tiny 
bowed lips. He drank, closed his eyes and rubbed the front of his pants, 
remembering Janice. Betty Anderson would be a better blowjob, he reflected, 
she had the mouth for it. And she might even be cherry, he mused. She was 
young enough and her snotty ways were the ways of a girl who hadn't yet felt 
a man between her thighs. 

He groaned, cock growing stiff as he rubbed. He heard music-soft at first, 
then louder and louder until the bungalow seemed to vibrate with the sound. 
"Turn it down," he hollered, angry because she had disturbed his reverie. 

Betty came out of her room into the hall. "If you don't like it," she said, 
pausing to moisten her lips with a delicate pink dart, "you know what you 
can do." 

"Fresh little bitch." Steve gulped the last of the beer. "Your old man was 
right. What you need is a cock ... afoot in your smart ass." 

The girl's tongue reappeared, wagged at him. She leaned back against the 
doorjamb, crossing her legs at the ankle. The housecoat parted. Her legs 
were short, slim but tapering up into plump thighs. She was tiny all 
over-like Dresden china, Steve thought. He could see the shadow beneath the 
hem of the lounge garment; he could almost see her tight-it had to be 
tight-little-girl pussy. 

For a moment, the girl matched him stare for stare. Then she rolled her 
eyes, as if bored, turned, and disappeared into the bedroom once more. Steve 
looked at the beer can in his hand. It was bent in the middle, crushed with 
the tension of thoughts of taking Betty. As if in a trance, he moved to the 
door and gaped at the sight on the mattress. Betty wore nothing beneath the 
housecoat. She raised her legs again, foot sawing up and down over one knee, 
exposing her crotch and round white ass. Steve gulped. He could see her 
asshole and the almost hairless lips of her hot cunt winking at him. 

She didn't see him at first. But she yelled when he strode to the bed and 
grabbed her. "What you need is what I have in my pants," he growled, beyond 
reason, beyond caring what happened after his prick was sheathed. 

"NOOO!" Betty fought-all flailing arms and thrashing legs. She twisted away 
from the hand groping between her thighs. She squealed. "I'll TELL!" she 
threatened, trying to knee him, clawing the air near his face with her sharp 
fingernails. 

Steve's fingers found and dug hard into her tight cunthole. The girl gasped. 
Her eyes opened wide, almost as wide as her mouth, and her hips bucked high 
off the bed. "That's better," Steve panted, working her clit. "Lay still. 
Put your hand inside my pants and take out my cock." 

"No ... I never ... I ... I...." 

Steve kissed her. Rubbing her pussy with the palm of his hand, wiggling his 
stinkfinger, he forced his tongue into her mouth and sucked her sweet 
breath. She screamed against his lips. But her ass began to bounce like a 
beached flounder. He guided her hand to the bulge in his pants. He had to 
open the fly and thrust her hand inside before the girl's delicate fingers 
began to oblige. They closed tentatively about his swollen dickhead. She 
whined. He drove his tongue in and out of her mouth, fucked his finger 
faster and faster into her vulva, and allowed her a moment to get used to 
the awesome size of his tool. 

Humping his rod hard into the palm of her tiny cool hand, he broke the kiss 
and whispered, "Isn't that what you want? A dick? Right up-" he wedged 
another finger into her pink slit-"here!" 

"Eeeeeeeeeeeee!" The hand on his meat tightened. Betty's exquisite young 
body arched up. The belt at the waist of the housecoat carne undone, 
revealing tits that were almost all nipple. 

Steve became drunk with the sight of her. There was nothing in the world to 
compare with the smooth limbs and budding splendor of a woman-child. He'd 
seen women all over the planet-old ones, young ones, middle-aged. It was the 
same everywhere, the daughters of the women he'd screwed, the kid sisters 
and nieces, were the ones who could get his dick hard when nothing else on 
his body wanted to go. 

He abandoned her cunt and pushed her hand away long enough to strip the 
pants and shorts from his legs, then climbed onto the bed-too anxious to get 
his rod in her, to feel the hot walls of her sex close, to prolong it by 
wasting time with the rest of his clothes. "Say you want it," he told her, 
mouthing a bright pink nipple while his hand massaged her belly and pubic 
mound. 

"I ... I ... I...." 

"Say it!" 

"Oh. Owahhh." She began to move her head from side to side on the pillow. "I 
... I've never done it," she breathed. Her tiny hand returned to his shaft, 
closed. "It ... it's too big. I ... I'm too little down there." 

A fucking virgin! thought Steve. When was the last time he'd stuck his dick 
in a virgin? It was too long ago to remember, and he was too busy exploring 
her lush body-sucking her tits, hand rubbing, fingers inching back up her 
hole-to care. He coaxed her thighs wide. Nibbling his way up her slim neck, 
over her chin to her lips, he kissed her again and positioned himself over 
the target. 

Setting the knob of his cock at her cunthole, he paused to savor the heat 
exuding from her upper vagina. She was built so close he had to force the 
glans in. He humped. Betty tore her lips from his, gasping. He humped 
again,. 

"OHHHHHHHH! It ... it'll never go!" she cried, backing off, trying to grind 
her ass into the mattress. 

Reluctantly, Steve pulled out, moved down on the bed, and glued his lips to 
her cunthole. The smell of her filled his nostrils. He sucked, batting his 
tongue against her hard little pink soldier. He cupped her buttocks. One 
finger slipped up her cute asshole. 

"Oh, Steve. Oh! OH! OHHH!" Betty's knees shot up. She began to grind, 
mashing her sharp little pussy hairs into his face. "Owahh!" 

Moving his mouth down deeper into the valley between her quivering thighs, 
Steve licked her sphincters. The knees came together at either side of his 
head. He licked again, sending her hips high. He returned to her vulva, blew 
hard into her slit, and nibbled her clit. He waited until he was sure she 
was too hot to object to anything, then rearranged his body, legs astraddle 
her head. He had almost forgotten the bowed mouth. Now he pointed his cock 
at her lips, balls dangling. "Suck it!" he told her. "Put it in your sweet 
mouth." 

Betty whimpered, hesitating. Then her tiny hands closed at the hairy roots 
of the monster throbbing above her. Her tongue flicked out, caressed the 
tip. "It's purple," she said in wonder. "I never knew they were purple like 
that." 

"Jesus!" Steve's ass bucked back as the wet pink dart shot down the glans of 
his tool. He buried his face between her thighs once more. He matched her 
flick for flick ... inching his knees wide ... lowering, easing his meat 
closer to the bowed pocket in the girl's lovely flushed face. 

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" Betty thrashed about wildly, the juice oozing hot and 
thick from her gash. 

She was coming, Steve knew; her first orgasm. He humped downward, driving 
half the length of his joystick into her face. She gurgled. He drove, 
planting the last inches, knowing she was too stunned with the wonder of 
what was happening inside her sex to object. 

Then he was coming too, almost before his cockhair reached its destination. 
Nuts flush with her pert nose, the gism leaped from his cock. He groaned 
into her pussy ... lapping ... lapping. He fingered her asshole-so tight he 
marveled that she could shit-and fucked his joint rapidly in and out of her 
face, depositing gobs of cum with each lunge. 

Where a moment before the girl had seemed reluctant to suck him, she now 
gulped the sticky stuff pouring off in her mouth. She made greedy little 
love noises each time he pulled back, as if afraid he'd pop free and she'd 
lose some of his cream. As if she'd been sucking hardens instead of baby 
bottles and ice cream cones all her young life. 

Finally Steve yanked his joint from her wet mouth, sat on the edge of the 
bed, and observed his new conquest. Her lips were red and swollen with the 
shape of him. And her cunt-the pink slitted mound that resembled a man with 
a midnight shadow-was puffy and pulsed, aching for more, he knew. 

Betty fidgeted under his gaze. She had not yet become accustomed to being 
looked at. She closed her legs, hiding her sex, said, "I didn't think I'd 
ever let anyone do that-in my mouth, I mean. Mommy does it to Daddy though. 
I saw them." 

Steve envisioned Lyn sucking a joint into her face. "They let you watch?" he 
asked. 

"Of course not. How come grown-ups are so dumb?" Betty propped herself on 
her elbows, emphasizing the cute mounds on her chest. "Their bedroom's right 
next door," she explained. "Boy! You should hear them! They make all kinds 
of noise once they get going. They leave the door open because of the air 
conditioner, and I sneak over and watch them from the hall." 

Steve's dick had lost some of its fullness, but the picture of Stu and Lyn 
fucking while Betty watched from the hall brought him up hard again. Did 
Lori ever watch him and Midge? he wondered. Or did the two girls-Lori and 
Betty-who were close friends and often spent weekends at each other's home, 
ever get together to compare notes about their parents? He touched the 
girl's thigh, remembering his own childhood, when he and his sister Elaine 
had listened to their parents make love before retreating to the cellar to 
play with each other. He cupped the girl's pussy, made her squirm. Elaine! 
He hadn't seen her since the family breakup. She was only a little thing 
then-not as old as Betty. Too little to screw. Too little to do more than 
giggle while she yanked on his dong, and his unsophisticated fingers 
explored her front and rear holes. Where was she now, he wondered, lying 
down beside the lovely young girl once more. Who was she fucking? 

"Ummmmmmmmmm!" Betty sighed as his thumb and forefinger recaptured her clit. 

Steve watched her young face go slack, saw her eyes glaze with longing. He 
kissed her breasts, her belly. He ran his finger up and down the tight crack 
of her ass. She was lots like Elaine, lots like Lori, lots like all the 
young girls he'd had all over the world. And yet different. Special because 
every minx had her own heady smell, her own whining love noises and immature 
thoughts and actions. 

"Oh! N-n-not in there," she objected when, with thumb and two fingers, he 
spread the halves of her ass to get at her anus. 

"Where then?" Steve asked, gaping her thighs once more, climbing hurriedly 
between. 

"You know." She raised her hips, telling him with her body. 

He laughed, thinking how easy it was to seduce the young ones. Once you 
found the switch, turned their sex motor on, there was no stopping them. 
They pleaded and cried and fucked a guy out of his mind. He set his cock at 
her cunthole. 

"There," Betty whispered, humping upward again. "It's gonna hurt like 
before, I know. But I ... I...." 

Steve planted the glans before she could finish the sentence. "You wanna get 
fucked!" he said. 

"I ... owwwwwwww!" The girl wrapped her slender arms around his shoulders, 
held tight. "I'm almost thirteen and still cherry, and all ... owwwwWWWWW! 
All the other girls make fun of me, Steve. E-even Lorie. She won't hardly 
talk to me anymore." 

He stopped with the knob of his cock at the gateway to her upper channel. 
"Lorie? My Lorie?" 

Betty chewed her lip and nodded. "She says, ah! OW! Lorie says fucking is 
about all she ever wants to do, and that I'm just a kid because I haven't 
been done yet." She stared up at him with mouth open and eyes wide. Her tiny 
breasts heaved. Her ass moved in slow circles. 

Fucking cock-teaser Lori, thought Steve, raising himself on outstretched 
arms, preparing to drive. He'd known it all along: Lori was screwing for 
everyone but him, and doing her damndest to taunt him into her stable. But 
before it was merely supposition, where now it was fact. He remembered the 
look on her face when she caught him the night before-the coy grin. He'd 
take her the next time, he decided, the very next time Midge left them 
alone. 

But for now Betty's mewing sounds demanded attention. He let his gaze wander 
leisurely over the young body beneath him, to the gap where his long rod 
protruded from her tight cunthole. "Push up with your ass," he directed, 
applying pressure with his hips. "Help me get it in." 

"Like this?" Betty raised her knees, planted her feet on the bed and lifted. 

"Just like that, baby. Keep pushing." Ears ringing, cock throbbing with the 
tightness of her, he watched the shaft begin its climb up her belly. She was 
good, hot and close and slippery feathers inside. But he had embedded only 
three inches when the barrier stopped him. 

"It hurts," whimpered Betty, small body tense, fingernails digging into his 
shoulders. Again she turned wide pleading eyes up at him. "Is ... is it 
supposed to hurt so bad? I mean ... owww! It ... it really does." 

"Only for a little while," he soothed. "Hold tight, honey. Put your legs 
around my waist and keep pushing up." He waited for her to comply, then 
lowered himself. He gripped the soft cheeks of her ass, a mound in each 
hand, pulled back until his rod almost sprang free, then drove hard at the 
elastic-like barrier. 

"D-d-dooooon't!" 

Steve kissed her to shut her up. The girl tried again to back off, to drop 
her legs from his waist. But he held tight to the round halves of her 
bottom, bludgeoning the membrane hidden high in her vagina. He knew he was 
hurting her. But he knew too that in a moment, when her maidenhead gave, 
she'd be the thrashing anxious sex partner who'd sucked him off like a pro 
minutes before. 

The thought made him wild. He pulled back, taking a firmer grip on her ass, 
and lunged with all the strength in his hips. He groaned into her mouth, 
breaking through, driving the glans of his prick high in her belly. He 
kissed from her mouth to her ear. "Now you're a woman," he told her. 

"Not yet." 

"Huh?" Again he raised his body on outstretched arms, looked into her huge 
brown eyes. 

"Not until you shoot in me there," she explained. "All ... all the girls say 
that's the best part-when your thing spits like before." 

Steve wanted to bite her. She was perfect, exquisitely naive. He looked down 
at the union. He pulled back, watching his stiffness come out slick with her 
blood and cuntjuice. She was nonetheless tight, and even hotter now that he 
had penetrated the sheath no other cock had known. But he wished it was Lori 
beneath him; he wished it was his daughter's white-blonde pussy instead of 
black bristles tickling the roots of his rod, and wished he'd been the first 
to plant a load of cum in her hot daughter-twat. 

"G-go in and out," said the girl in a small appealing voice. She reached 
down to take hold of his meat, to direct him. "Like Pop does to Mom. Up and 
down." 

He thrust, transfixed by the look of ecstasy on her pretty young face. She 
cooed, opening and closing her cuntlips, wiggling her ass, the walls of her 
sex caressing his swollen joint. The cheeks of her plump little behind grew 
taut when he stoked out and jiggled in the palms of his hands when he humped 
it to her again. Her sloppy wet bloody gash made faint sloshing noises. Her 
thighs trembled. Steve couldn't remember when he'd experienced a better 
screw. 

They fucked leisurely for a while-he content to let his cock dip in and out 
without coming, she learning, moving her hips first round and round, then up 
and down, then combining the two to create a sensuous rhythm. 

But still, in his mind, it was Lori Steve was fucking; his own little girl! 
It was Lorie who had sucked him off, and Lorie whose whipped cream thighs 
were moving restlessly beneath him. And it was Lori, not Betty, whose 
all-nipple tits tasted of salt, and Lori whose slippery buttocks began to 
churn faster as he forced his way deeper and deeper into the almost 
hairless, tight and hot little hole, between the trim legs of Stu Andersen's 
twelve-year-old daughter. 

Suddenly Betty went rigid. Her mouth opened, as if she were going to yell, 
but nothing came out. Her small strong legs shot high on his waist. Her 
nails dug into his back. A mewing sound-part moan, part sigh-came from deep 
in her throat, and the pussy swabbing his dipstick became as tight as a 
vise. 

"You're coming," Steve told her, wanting to laugh, but so close to the brink 
himself that he could barely suck air into his tortured lungs. 

"It oh! It feels-owwwwww! S-S-S-SO GOOD!" the girl managed, the lower half 
of her body grinding like an erratic electric mixer. "Don't s-stop. Don't 
... eeeeeeee! D-don't ever s-stoooooooooop!" 

Steve had no intention of stopping. He told her so. He gasped the words into 
her open mouth, twisted a finger up her brown, and expanded and contracted 
the knob of the thing soaking at the top of her juicy love hole. 

Lori! he thought, ramming his tongue into the girl's sweet warm mouth. He 
closed his eyes-fucking, fucking, driving his big daddy-dick into another 
man's daughter. Lori was there in his head, on the sofa with the shorty 
pajamas bunched at the top of her smooth thighs, the halves of her ass 
beckoning. Only this time Midge didn't call, and Lori didn't awake, and the 
tightness milking the semen up from his sacs, the wet hole filled with his 
ten inches of cock, was the winking brown velvet pocket low between the 
beautiful cheeks of her ass. 

"Lori!" he spit, his dick spitting too. He dug his fingers cruelly into 
Betty's soft bottom. "Oh God, Lori!" 

 CHAPTER THREE 

It was late afternoon when Steve finally stepped from the Anderson place, 
crossed the drive, and slowly climbed the stairs to the back door of his 
bungalow. Midge and Lorie hadn't yet returned. He strode to the girl's room, 
eyed the crumpled shorty pajamas at the foot of the bed. His gaze scanned 
the pop art posters hung from the walls, settled on UNCLE SAM WANTS YOU! He 
couldn't blame Uncle Sam. She was some kid, his Lorie; a man, even old Uncle 
Sam, would have to be dead not to want her. 

Without design, he moved to the bureau and began to rummage through the top 
drawer. Underwear! Perfumed strips of silk that were too scanty, and bras 
she never wore. Lorie. His little Lorie. 

In one corner of the drawer, hidden beneath the skimpy undergarments, lay a 
stack of dog-eared muscle-building magazines. Steve frowned. Choosing one, 
he leafed through and stopped at the page with the corner turned down. He 
blinked. Someone had drawn a huge cock on a Mr. America contestant. 

Holy Christ! he thought, tracing the lipstick smear at the tip of the 
penciled member. Had Lorie done that? Was she, like Janice across-the 
street, a confirmed blowjob? 

His insatiable prick began to stiffen. He closed the magazine, thrust it 
back into hiding. There were so many others, he told himself; there were 
girls like Betty and Janice all over the area, girls who came to the shore 
from the stifling city each year, leaving morals behind. But-God help him-he 
couldn't stop wanting Lori. 

He had barely closed the drawer when the front screen door slammed. "Anybody 
home?" called a throaty female voice. 

Steve didn't answer, not wanting whoever it was to see him come out of 
Lori's bedroom with a harden. The voice was familiar ... one of the 
neighborhood women Midge played bridge with each Thursday, but he couldn't 
remember which one. He waited until his rod slackened; becoming a limp hose 
that could pass for merely an extra-large weapon instead of excitement. Then 
he entered the living room. 

Vivian, Dave Snider's attractive ex-model wife, stepped from the kitchen 
with a quart of milk in her hand. She saw him and stopped, said oh! 

"Housebreaking?" asked Steve. 

"I called. I didn't think there was anyone home." She cocked her head at 
him, smiled. She held up the milk. 

What he liked best about Vivian was her long slim legs. But he had never 
before taken full stock of the rest of her. Now his gaze traveled up to the 
tight hot pants she seemed to have an endless supply of, to a wasp waist, to 
tits not much bigger than the creamy hillocks he'd fondled and sucked 
earlier next-door. 

"Am I about to be raped?" Vivian's hazel eyes flashed, daring him. Nor was 
it the first time she had looked at him that way. 

Moving to his favorite armchair, Steve sat. He lit a cigarette, studied her, 
noting the way she stood with unconscious grace, as if unaware of her body. 
As if sex were a commodity apart from her. "Would being raped bother you?" 
he countered through a cloud of smoke. 

"That depends." 

"On what?" 

"On who happens to be the rapist, and how good he is." She sat on the sofa 
opposite him, crossed her legs. She set the milk down. Pointing a slender 
finger at his cigarette, she added, "Can I have one of those?" 

Cunt all over the place! Steve reaffirmed mentally. A guy could go nonstop 
from one end of the street to the other, with maybe five-minute intervals 
between screws. And that only to rejuvenate himself! He moved to the wide 
sofa, sat beside her and held a match to the cylinder she took from his 
pack. 

"God, it's hot," sighed Vivian, plucking at her damp blouse, "I'll be damned 
if I know why I let Dave drag me down here every year. He and the kids have 
a ball, but all I do is cook and try to stay one jump ahead of the sand." 

Steve felt the warm softness of her bare thigh against his. He wished she 
wasn't wearing a bra. He could see through the white blouse, but the whiter 
undergarment hid the hard little round nuggets at the tips of her breasts. 
They were more brown than pink, he knew; the puckered nipples of a mature 
woman, a mother. He could imagine them standing tall for his tongue. 

Vivian must have sensed the heat rising within him. She leaned back, 
stretched. "Where's Midge?" 

"She and Lori are gone for the day." He watched her uncross her long legs. 
Her thighs came slightly apart, flattened. Now he could see where the shorts 
hugged her lush pussy. "Lonesome me," he added, reaching across her for the 
ashtray on the far end table. 

"Um. Two lonely people." She didn't seem to mind that his elbow had come to 
rest at her crotch, and was moving suggestively against her as he crushed 
the cigarette. 

Their gazes met, locked. Her eyes flashed fire; it was as if he were looking 
into the crater of a live volcano. "There's no reason for two people to be 
lonely when one's a man and the other's a woman," he said. 

Vivian sighed and slipped lower on the sofa. The gap between her thighs 
widened. She continued to stare, the heat from her eyes spreading to turn 
her cheeks crimson. She was begging to be screwed ... pressing her hot cunt 
into his elbow ... telling him she didn't object, wanted him. 

Taking the cigarette from her, Steve mashed it out in the ashtray. His hand 
dropped to her thigh. Hot silk! Satin! His fingers curled over the smooth 
surface, the tips moving slowly up and down the velvet inner expanse. 

"I like that," whispered Vivian, opening wider still, making the swell at 
the crotch of the shorts more accessible. 

Steve watched her face contort as the palm of his hand cupped over her 
pussy. She was hot there ... an oven. And her ex-model thighs began to 
quiver even before he pressed the shorts and panties into her fat cuntlips. 

Outside a car crunched into the sandy drive. The motor roared once, went 
silent. A door slammed. Another. "Jesus H. Christ!" barked Steve, leaping 
from the sofa and to the front window in time to see Midge and Lori start 
for the porch entrance. 

Hastily, Vivian stood and straightened her shorts. She flashed him an evil 
look. "Gone for the day, huh?" 

He started to speak, to make some inadequate excuse, but Lori ran up the 
steps onto the porch and was in the living room even before he could get his 
cock under control. She too started to speak. Then her lovely green eyes 
widened. Her gaze dropped to the mighty bulge in his pants-leg, shot from 
there to the wrinkled dampness at Vivian's crotch. She set her small jaw. 
"Boy, Daddy," she blurted-but low enough so that Midge wouldn't hear on the 
porch. "It's a good fucking thing we didn't come in five minutes from now." 

It was too hot to sleep. And he couldn't stop thinking about Lori's reaction 
to finding him and Vivian together. Midge hadn't noticed a thing. But the 
girl-Christ! At fourteen she knew all the signs and seemed to take fucking 
for granted. 

He glanced down at his wife. She lay on her back, one knee raised, arms out 
flung and hair spread out like a fan on the pillow. In panties and bra she 
was still an appealing sight. But her breasts had begun to flatten with age 
and there was silver among the gold down atop and between her full thighs. 
She no longer excited him as in the beginning; he knew every blemish, every 
erotic point on her body, and sex with her had become too familiar, too much 
like ritual. 

He thought back, to the night they met at the U.S.O. She was much like Lori 
then-a bird-like creature, full of life and innocent awareness. He recalled 
the dates, the maddening objections night after night until finally, after 
plying her with wine, she allowed him to undress her in the back seat of a 
borrowed car. He remembered too his joy at finding that the hair on her 
pussy was as blonde and soft as the stuff on her head. And the first 
penetration-she wasn't a virgin, had said a cousin broke her when she was 
ten, but she was as tight and as new to fucking as little Betty next door. 

Steve groaned, remembering. His dick rose, sprang from the fly of his 
shorts. It had been good with Midge. But she wasn't a blowjob. And although 
it had never bothered him before Jan-ice and Betty, he now felt cheated. He 
touched the round rise above the waistband of the transparent panties. 
"Midge?" 

She mumbled a sleepy reply, rolled onto her side, butt to him, and began, to 
breathe deeply again. The nylon hugged her bottom, the crack between her 
plump cheeks. He'd fucked her there twice-only twice in sixteen years of 
marriage. She didn't like it that way, said it hurt. Now he wanted to hurt 
her, wanted to ram his stiffness up her tight chute and forget the lovely 
young girl asleep in the next room. 

He touched her soft ass, closed his eyes, and envisioned Lori on the sofa 
the night before. He moved close, set the glans of his cock between the back 
of her thighs. He groaned, thinking that if Midge hadn't called, if she had 
gone to sleep and left them alone, his rod would have been in the girl 
before her eyes fluttered open. He would have committed the cardinal sin ... 
the dirty word used for a father who screwed his own daughter. What would 
Lori have done if it had happened that way, he wondered. He doubted she'd 
have objected. Surprise, yes. Perhaps disbelief at finding his meat in her 
belly. But in the months since his retirement, particularly since they 
arrived at the shore, he was learning that the girl they'd raised was more 
woman than child and seemed to want him. 

Slowly, he worked the panties down Midge's wide hips, baring her ass, the 
hot split. But he wished it was Lori. God, how he wished it was his own 
little Lorie. Yet the twin halves of white flesh against him were 
provocative too. The crack was deep and hairy at the winking aperture he'd 
plowed meat into twice before. He set his dick there. He pushed the panties 
farther down, reached around to cup her blonde pussy, and began to press 
home. 

Midge stirred, looked back over her shoulder with heavy-lidded eyes. "Not 
there," she objected. "Not tonight." 

"I'm hard, honey." He fingered her cunthole, made her moan and thrash. 

"But you know I don't like it there," she persisted. 

"For me," grunted Steve, embedding the head of his cock in the hot brown 
tightness. 

"Oh, no, Steve. No-owwwwwwww!" She tried to twist away from his driving 
member. But her cunthole breathed on his fingers and, although she continued 
to object, her rectum opened and began to draw him in. 

"That's-ahhhhhhhhhkh! That's it, baby. Don't fight me. I need you tonight. 
Bad! I need you so fucking bad I ... ohhhhhhhhhhh! Oh, Christ motherfucker, 
I need you tonight!" 

Midge went limp, allowing him to pump the length of his meat up her asshole. 
Her cunt sucked his fingers. "I'll be sore every time I go to the bathroom 
for a. week," she complained. But her buttocks began to churn rhythmically, 
and inside, deep within the slippery walls of her anus, tiny muscles 
feathered his cock ... squeezing gently ... silently pleading for the gush 
of cream that would tear a cry of joy from her throat despite her verbal 
reluctance. 

Turning her onto her belly, Steve snatched the pillow from the head of the 
bed and propped her hips high. He turned on the nightstand lamp. There was 
nothing he enjoyed more than watching his big prick hump in and out, in and 
out between alabaster cheeks that grew pink with his furious pounding. He 
spread her legs wide, began to stroke: driving in to the hilt, withdrawing 
the shit-smeared cylinder, and humping it back up her belly in long even 
jabs. 

"Steve! Ow! D-don't poke so hard. I ... ow! OWWWWWWWWWW!" Midge trembled. 
Her hands became claws that tore at the bedding. "You-owivwwwwivww! YOU'RE 
HURTING MEEEEEEEEEEE!" 

He was beyond hearing, beyond caring about anything except the cumload 
inching up from the sacs slapping her naked behind. He stared with glazed 
eyes down at Midge, watched her soft ass flesh quiver like jelly as he 
stoked. But it was Lori he saw. It was Lori's little round ass he was 
fucking-her hot hairy dung-hole. The blonde curls were hers. The swollen 
pink sphincters-turning outward when he withdrew, and folding in along his 
pistoning shaft when he thrust-were the fiery pinchers low in the crack of 
her beautiful bottom. Everyone he screwed lately it seemed, every juicy 
cunthole and anus, every tight mouth, belonged to his Lori. 

"G-G-GO EASY! You ... YOU'RE T-T-TEARING ME APART BACK THERE!" cried Midge. 
She lifted up onto her knees-head on the mattress, ass suspended, opening 
her rear port for his cruel lunges. Her hips gyrated. She was doing her 
damndest to rip the cum from his cock, Steve knew, trying to get it over 
with, trying to fuck him dry so he'd let her be. 

"Keep it going, baby," he hissed, barely able to breathe. "Just ... ummmmm! 
Ah! Just like that!" 

Reaching around and under her belly, he began to fingerfuck her wet twat. He 
let his weight down on her arched back, gripped and kneaded a tit with his 
free hand. The panties bunched at the top of her thighs were in the way, He 
ripped them from her, threw them onto the floor. He closed his eyes and 
fucked it hard up her brown-using her. The heat from her guts flooded 
through him, spread at his loins, and touched the trigger at the inner roots 
of his manhood. 

"Sweetheart!" he choked, depositing goo in her rectum, gulping air. 

Moaning, Midge brought her thighs together, locked the cheeks of her ass and 
milked. The cum-there seemed to be gallons of the thick sticky 
stuff-trickled out and down the lips of her cunt, dripping onto the sheets. 
She pressed back, grinding against him, squealing as the hot gobs leaped 
from the stiffness high in her chute. It was different now-good! His fingers 
were coaxing her hard little clit over the brink, and the soreness, the hurt 
of a moment before was gone. 

Steve let his cock bask in the sloppy brown pocket until he began to go 
limp. Then he withdrew ... slowly ... inch at a time ... still savoring the 
sight of himself slipping from the tight treasured niche. The front of his 
shorts were smeared with cream and brown gook, and his dick would have to be 
fumigated. But it was worth it; Midge's asshole was the only exciting place 
left. He rolled away, fell onto his back, and looked up into her flushed 
face. 

"Bastard!" she yelped. 

He chuckled. She wasn't a bad wife. He told her so; he kissed her and pulled 
her down across his sweaty body. His fingers went to the hole he'd dropped 
his load in, probed. She wiggled away, protesting into his mouth, locking 
her teeth on his tongue. He felt her hand on his half-hard joystick ... 
jerking him off ... rubbing the tip in her silky blonde pubic hair. 

He undid the bra, wanting to feel her nipples digging into his chest. At 
times like this he almost forgot Lori. Almost! But he never quite got the 
girl out of his head. He had made a lasting mistake the night before. Now, 
now that he had seen her lying open, vulnerable, lovely beyond his wildest 
dreams; now that he had felt her tender little-girl flesh and made his 
intentions known by being caught by her with his cock out, there was no 
forgetting. No matter how often he reprimanded himself, reminding himself 
that the girl-the adorable pink and white wonder in the next room-was his 
daughter, his and Midge's only child, there was no ignoring the 
uncontrollable lust he felt each time she came near. 

Midge threw her legs wide across his thighs and rubbed the tip of his 
stiffening member up and down her hot open cuntlips. "Do it right this 
time," she whispered. "In front. Like we used to, Steve. Remember? All night 
sometimes. You never used to get tired of me." 

Steve frowned up into her pleading face. "What brought all this on?" 

Midge hesitated, looked away from his questioning eyes. "I ... I saw the way 
you were looking at Lori tonight. You used to look at me like that when we 
first met, but now...!" She left the thought hanging between them. 

Christ! thought Steve, Was it that obvious? Even to Midge? Did everyone know 
what he was thinking when he and Lorie exchanged secretive glances? 

"Don't talk crazy," he told Midge, angry with her because what she said was 
true. "Lori's only a baby-fourteen! And she's my goddam daughter!" 

Midge pushed the shorts down his legs, waited while he kicked them off, then 
got atop him again. "I wasn't much ... ummmm!" She ground her sopping wet 
cunt down onto his cock, bit her lip. "I wasn't much older when we met," she 
finished, working her hips, drawing him in to the hilt. "And I know plenty 
of girls, including me ... remember my cousin? The one I told you about? 
Well, I know lots more who were had by their fathers and brothers and like 
that even before they had hair." 

Steve began to object, stopped himself. Instead, he gripped the back of her 
head and brought her mouth down to his. He didn't want, to hear anymore 
about Lorie. He didn't want to think about her-about how she would be 
astraddle his tense legs, pulling his big daddy-hard-on into the sweet 
little grotto between her still immature thighs. 

"Do it," moaned Midge. "Hard! Fuck me, Steve. Fuck me like you used to." 

He obliged. He took firm hold of the plump cheeks of her ass, and pumped 
himself up off the mattress into her. He abandoned her lips to mouth a firm 
nipple, and he grew harder because of the small pleasure noises she made. He 
supposed he loved Midge-even though she wasn't as innocent, as young, as 
good as she used to be. 

He fucked. He sucked her nipples-first one, then the other-deep into the 
warmth of his mouth. He fingered her brown. He screwed her the way she 
wanted it ... fast and hard. But at the back of his mind he was scheming, 
anticipating Thursday, when Midge's bridge club was to meet at another 
summer home, and he and Lori would be alone most of the night. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Thursday was a long day. It was the one day each week Midge had set aside 
for G-Iing the bungalow, using the work as a penance to make up for running 
off after supper to the weekly card game that lasted most of the night. And 
Lori. In jeans that hugged her plump rear, out-lined her lush little wedge, 
and a polo shirt that was more tantalizing than nakedness, she darted from 
room to room with a dust cloth, humming a tuneless song and grinning 
mischievously each time she passed the sofa where Steve sat, pretending to 
be engrossed in the nonsense on TV. 

He watched them both, mother and daughter. Midge was still an attractive 
woman, he told himself. She was older, of course, and perhaps a little less 
firm where it counted. But men still looked at her with lust in their eyes. 
And in bed, once she let her hair down, she was almost as good as.... 

As what, he wondered. He had almost compared Midge to Lori. There was no way 
of knowing how good or how bad the girl was, he reminded himself. And yet he 
knew. Knew as well as he knew his own name that once they got past the 
natural barriers, the inhibitions, made the transition from father and 
daughter to lovers, Lori would be best. Better than Midge ever was. Better 
even than Janice and Betty combined. 

He tried not to think of the girl in that way; he told himself over and over 
that she wasn't a cunt, but his daughter. He tried to lose himself in the 
soap opera on TV. But sex was there, too; the heroine had gotten herself 
pregnant by her husband's boss, and the husband, indignant over the 
infidelity, demanding a divorce, was having an affair with the boss's 
secretary. 

As the afternoon wore on, he became restless. He moved from the sofa to the 
porch, paced. He smoked too many cigarettes. He tried to busy himself 
puttering around outside. Betty Anderson waved from her bedroom window. Lyn 
Anderson appeared at the kitchen door, said, "God, how can you stand it out 
there in this heat? I'm wilting!" 

"I've seen hotter days," Steve replied, recalling the morning the 
dark-headed minx at the window opened first her mouth then her legs for his 
cock. Pussy! That was the problem. There was no way of forgetting. The area 
was crawling with cunts who became bored after the first few weeks of summer 
vacation, who paraded their stuff. Inviting. Sometimes daring. Every tit 
that jiggled, every pair of shorts or slacks that showed a deep crack, every 
moist mouth, reminded him of Lori asleep on the sofa. Lori drawing pricks on 
figures in muscle magazines. Lori walking in on him and Vivian. Lori. Lori! 

"Would you like something?" Lyn wiped her brow with the back of one hand, 
tilted an imaginary glass to her lips. 

"No thanks." 

"Sure?" 

Steve detected a pleading note in her voice. He glanced to where Betty was 
making cute faces, rolling her eyes as if to say Mom wants some, too. He 
looked back to Lyn. "Where's Stu?" he asked speculatively. 

The lines around Lyn's mouth hardened. "Fishing, he says," she snapped. "He 
and the boys went out on a head boat this morning, and Stu, my he-man, won't 
be back 'til sometime tomorrow. You wouldn't believe this is supposed to be 
my vacation too, would you?" She shifted her weight from one hip to the 
other, pulling the slacks tight at her crotch. 

Christ! mused Steve. There was what appeared to be great fishing grounds 
right there between Lyn's legs. He concentrated on the button at the waist 
of the white bellbottoms. "I didn't know Stu was a fisherman. He doesn't 
seem like the 'salt water and wind in your face' type." 

Lyn gave him a long significant look. Betty said something giggly about the 
fishing being best at the nightclubs along the boardwalk, then her head 
disappeared from the window. Lyn stood silent for a moment, as if searching 
her mind for an adequate retort to the girl's accusation. Finally she 
humped. She stared at Steve with wide, smoldering brown eyes, eyes that said 
I know darn well Stu uses the fishing trips as an excuse to fool around, and 
one of these days-maybe even today if you're interested-I may just try some 
hanky-panky myself. Before stepping back from the screen door into the 
kitchen, she said. "There's beer 'n' fresh lemonade, in case you get 
thirsty. I'm going to lie down for a while. Just walk in and ... an' take 
what you want." 

Cunt! thought Steve. That's what he wanted, and that's what Lyn wanted, too. 
They were making him crazy. Everyone wanted to screw, and he, with his big 
insatiable prick-probably because the other men in the area, like Stu, used 
the summer months to roam far from home and do what they didn't dare do in 
the city-was suddenly the most eligible stud around. Or so it seemed. He 
wasn't quite sure of anything anymore. Only Lori, who enjoyed playing sexy 
games ... cocking her trim teenage legs up to give him a look at her 
delectable white-blonde pussy ... lying around in pajamas that barely 
covered her ass ... acting little girlish and indignant when he went too 
far, but always placing herself within reach, within sight, within teasing 
distance of him.... 

His dick swelled, irritated by the sweat running down the inside of his. 
pantsleg. His breathing grew labored. He turned toward the bungalow where 
Midge and Lori were doing the Thursday housework, toward the girl's bedroom 
window. Softly, he groaned. He could almost see the magazine in the top 
bureau drawer, the penciled-in cock hidden beneath the girl's nylon panties 
... exactly where his own cock longed to be. 

"God help me," he whispered in the direction of the waning sun. "Jesus, I 
want my own fucking daughter so bad I can almost taste her sweet pussy." 

By the time the table was cleared, the supper dishes washed and set in the 
drain board to dry, and the kitchen lights out, Steve had gotten himself 
under control-had regeared the image of Lori, returning it, but none too 
stably, to the place where a small cuddly girl, a daughter, belonged. He 
watched his wife look swiftly about the living room, as if checking for land 
mines. Her gaze settled on Lori. "Not too late," she scolded. 

"Mother! I worked hard all day!" The girl's tiny fist came down on the arm 
of the sofa. 

Midge looked pleadingly to him. Steve shrugged. He moved to the armchair 
across from the girl, flopped. In the days since the afternoon Lori stepped 
onto the porch and showed him her scruff, and the session with Midge that 
followed, her admitted suspicions, mother and daughter seemed to be growing 
farther and farther apart. He felt out of place, awkward. More so because of 
what Midge had guessed. "The kid'll be okay," he said finally, paternally. 
"I'll see to it she gets tucked in before midnight." 

"She's old enough to tuck herself...." 

"You'll be late for your bridge club," he hastily interrupted, angry with 
Midge because what she was thinking, what he could see in her face and hear 
in her voice, was true. He wanted the girl. They both knew it. Lori, too. It 
was an unspoken wall that had been building for days, and now, with Midge 
about to leave them alone for the night, there was a clown atop the wall 
mocking the usual mother-to-daughter-through-father small talk. 

"I'll brush my teeth, hang up my clothes, say my prayers, and put on my own 
nightie," said Lori much too sweetly. Boldly she met her mother's hot stare. 
"Or would you rather I went to bed now so you can lock me in?" 

A blush crept into Midge's cheeks. She opened her mouth, as if to retort, 
turned suddenly and was gone from the bungalow. The porch door slammed 
behind her. Her heels clicked down the side walk to the car. Another door 
slammed ... metallic-sounding. An engine roared. The crunch of tires on 
gravel, loud at first, growing faint as the car backed down the drive, was, 
inside Steve's head, the sound of a zipper being undone, the fly being 
opened down the front of a tight pair of jeans. 

"Moo!" cooed Lorie. 

"Huh?" 

"What you said about Mom getting old. Like a cow. I guess that's why you had 
Vivian here the other day? And me-fooling around, I mean-the other night?" 

Steve stiffened. The girl was embarrassing him, actually making his ashamed 
of his recent thoughts and actions. He stared at the crotch of her 
dungarees, heard the tires hum as Midge set the car in motion down the 
street. Wanting Lori was one thing, but having her taunt him with it, 
hearing it from her lips, as if he were one of her teenage boyfriends, was 
something else entirely. It was a sudden slap in the face. Cold water. Yet 
he couldn't tear his gaze away from the swell where her thighs came 
together; he couldn't make himself stop remembering how tiny and 
white-blonde and pink-slitted her plump little-girl pussy was. 

Lori giggled, Her tits jiggled provocatively beneath the thin polo shirt. 
"Know what I like best about you, Daddy?" 

My dick! he wanted to say. You liked it real good when you awoke the other 
night and caught me trying to get it back inside my pants. But you're my 
daughter. Chrissakes! Be a baby again. Hide your tits and close your legs 
and stop talking as if we were about to shack up. 

"Sometimes you're such a dream," Lori continued. "Like in your uniform. And 
when you get mad. And then, like now, you get all dopey. Like I didn't catch 
you the other night. Like you didn't take my pajama bottoms off, and ... 
well, you know what I mean, Daddy. Fooling around. I was all wet, too. 
Especially when I heard you and Mummy fucking afterward." 

Steve leaped up. "If you say that again I'll spank your ass raw." 

Lori stood too. Hands on hips, feet wide apart, and pointed breasts heaving, 
she wailed, "It's what you wanted to do when I was asleep. Boy! Lookit you 
now. Wow! I thought Rudy had a big one." 

Fucking Rudy, thought Steve. He'd suspected as much; they were screwing. He 
glanced down at himself. His dick was an extra long railroad spike in one 
pantsleg and was pointing-as a trained bird dog zeros in on quail-at the 
puffy V atop and between Lori's legs. Christ, how he wanted to ram his 
stiffness up there! He wanted to throw her down on the floor, tear off her 
clothes, and make her yell as he drove it in, in. Up her hot daughter belly. 
Like Rudy. Others? How many others? He moved as if in a trance, took the 
girl in his arms, and crushed her to him. 

"Ummmmmm." Lori's arms locked tight at his neck. She stood on tiptoe, tilted 
her chin. 

She wasn't his daughter; the soft restless body molded against him belonged 
to a wanton, Midge. Midge as she was long before Lori was born. Tiny and 
blonde, ripe. He closed his eyes and pretended. He lowered his mouth to her 
moist pink lips, squeezed her so hard her fragile spine threatened to break. 

"Daddy." The endearment came out in a barely audible whisper ... breathless 
... full of promise. Lori's tits flattened against his chest. She kissed him 
back, opened her mouth for his tongue and pressed her cunt to his hard-on. 

Steve was lost. His head spun. The hot blood of lust roared loud in his 
ears. It was wrong, he knew-the unforgivable sin. For a moment he wished he 
had the willpower, was strong enough to step back, to release the lovely 
young girl. He cursed God for having made him her father, Midge for having 
produced an adorable self-image, Lori for being a tease, and himself for 
being a man, for owning a prick. His hands dropped to her small round 
buttocks, his nuts leaped. The pole in his pantsleg burrowed into the niche 
between her little-girl thighs. He wished-Christ, how he wished-he could 
turn the clock back, make her a baby again, make her safe. 

Suddenly they were at the sofa, Lori falling back, back. He didn't know how. 
He didn't know anything except Lori. She wasn't resisting; she was slipping 
down on the cushions, pulling him down with her. Her legs opened wide. Hands 
still on her plump ass, kneading the velveteen melons, fingers deep in the 
crack, positioning himself in the gap. His cock, like a guided missile, a 
terrible warhead, found the heat of her sex, savored it through the denim 
and pants. 

"Do it, Daddy," cried Lori into his mouth. "Fuck me. I ... I want you to. I 
want ... ummmmmmmm! Ow! Ow, Daddy, I want your ... your big dick up my 
pussy." 

Steve stared hard into her flushed impish face. How had it happened? His 
whole life had been a calm, regimented daily routine, with honor and 
military discipline as the gas that made him go. And now, a mere few months 
after retirement, a few extramarital affairs, and the moral values were 
gone, the discipline of a lifetime shattered. He couldn't stop ... even if 
he wanted to. Worse, he didn't want to. He didn't care that she was his only 
child, that her tight delectable cunthole was sacred ground in a healthy 
family relationship. 

How many fathers fucked their own daughters, he wondered. He'd read of some 
reported cases. During the long lonely nights while stationed far away from 
Lori and Midge, he'd read the reports, asking himself how a father could do 
that to his own little girl. And now all he could wonder was how many 
fathers were, at that very moment around the world, lying atop the warm 
flesh that had sprung from their loins, about to take and enjoy what their 
cum had created. How many were willing to risk producing a bastard child 
with the child they'd fathered? He hadn't any idea. 

He stared into the girl's flashing green eyes, felt her tiny hand creeping 
low on his belly, seeking the stiffness. He felt the little-girl eagerness 
in the. gentle grind of her hips, the heat of her crotch, the tremor of 
thigh, and dismissed from his mind, banished completely from his 
consciousness, the thought of her as his daughter. 

Lori gasped when his fingers forced the jeans and panties up her cunt from 
behind. "D-D-D-D-Da-deeeeee!" 

"What?" demanded Steve. "Tell me what you want, baby. Say it again." 

"I ... umph! Um! Hummmmmm! I want you to-ow! Ow! To s-s-stick it in. Y-your 
dick. P-p-put it there, Daddy. Where your fingers are. Up me. All ... all 
the way up my pussy. Please. Oh, please take it out an' f-fuck me. Fuck 
meee." 

He lifted his hips, allowed her hand to take firm hold of the mighty bulge 
in his pantsleg. "You take it out, honey. Open the zipper and show Daddy 
what you want." He relinquished one tender rear melon, cupped his hand at 
the hot swell between her gaped legs. 

Both zippers opened in unison, and both hands-Steve's forcing its way into 
the small opening and to the tinier aperture below the clump of soft blonde 
pussy hair, Lori's lost in the vastness, miniature fingers struggling to 
wrap themselves around the steely shaft-began to make love to the thing each 
desired. Lori mewed as his stinkfinger fucked its way beneath the panties 
and into her tight cuntlips, up her wet little vagina. Her ass shot up off 
the cushions. Her nipples went rigid beneath the thin polo shirt. Each stab 
of the dart in her pussy drew a Sow purring sound from the mouth that tasted 
so sweet, so delightfully innocent, that Steve was flung back to the day 
Janice taught him the joys of having his cock sucked. 

"I love you, Daddy. Oh, I love you. I love you ... ow ... ow. Umph. Ah. Do 
it. DO IT!" 

"How much do you love me?" asked Steve. 

Lori thrusted her cunthole onto his finger, jerked hard on his cock. She 
lifted her knees at either side of his waist, let one leg drop over the edge 
of the sofa ... suspended ... thigh trembling. "This much," she moaned. 
"More t-than anything. I ... I love you here!" Her hot little hand slipped 
down the shaft of his prick. "An" here!" Her fingers-like curious 
butterflies batting their wings-curled beneath his tense balls. "I ... I 
love to see you up hard, Daddy. Like now. Up harder than anything just for 
meee." 

Steve's lungs were about to burst. The words, Lori's exploring fingers, were 
driving him mad. His insides were tied in knots, with the biggest, the most 
cumbersome knot, at the place where the girl's silken hand lay curled. His 
sacs leaped with each gentle caress. Dizzily, his vision clouded by lust, he 
watched her moist lips open and close, open and close ... sharp little teeth 
biting down on the full lower grape with each dip of his stinkfinger. Her 
mouth wasn't as tight as Betty's, he could see. Her cunthole seemed tighter. 
But he had made up his mind, he wanted to press her flushed face down the 
hard length of his member, hear her gag when he shot. It somehow seemed less 
like incest that way-almost right. 

Wildly, Lori thrashed beneath him. Her fingers crept back up the length of 
his tool, clutched the fat pulsing tip. "Oh, it ... it's so big. So ... so 
stiff." 

"Like a lollipop," said Steve. 

"Huh?" 

Quickly he fucked another finger up her hot cunt, twisted a third into her 
nipping asshole. "Like the all-day suckers you used to lick way back before 
you had hair on your pussy. 'Member, honey? 'Member how you used to lick all 
over the thing and suck it in and out of your mouth? That's what I want. 
Your mouth on my cock. Suck me off." 

The girl's eyes opened wide. "No! I ... I n-n-never sucked, I...." 

Abruptly Steve rearranged himself, sat at the edge of the sofa looking down 
at the girl. Quickly, before she could protest further, he pushed the jeans 
and panties down to mid-thigh, bared her white-blonde pussy. Lori sobbed, 
freed his rod, and moved her hand furiously up and down. He was tempted. The 
sight of her, the heady odor wafting up from the pink slit between her young 
creamy thighs, was intoxicating. He wanted to fuck her, ram his joint up 
her-ass and drive it into her face, all at the same time. 

"So g-good," breathed Lori. "Hummmmmm!" Her hips churned rhythmically, 
fucking the wet little pocket onto and off and onto his fingers. Her own 
fingers squeezed as if trying to force the cum from his cock. 

"Suck it!" growled Steve, afraid he would pop before it was in. "Put Daddy's 
prick in your mouth, baby. Love it. Pretend it's a lolly and suck. Now!" 

Lori's eyes rolled back white. Her head rocked from side to side on the 
cushion. "No, Daddy, Please. Do ... do it the right way. Up me. Here!" Her 
free hand came down on the one kneading her sex, forced the fingers deeper. 
"It ... I ... y-your thing is t-t-too big to ... to...." 

Again Steve kissed her. Hard. Insistently. He mashed her lips open, used his 
tongue to acquaint her mouth with the feel of meat slipping in and out. The 
girl cooed as his fingers captured her clit, rubbed. Her hand worked faster 
on his dick, up-down, up-down the stiff length. Making his hips buck off the 
sofa. Making his tortured balls tight. 

Steve held the kiss and worked her clit until Lori went rigid, arched her 
spine like a bow, shuddered, and fell back moaning. Hot juice poured from 
her cunt onto his hand, the slipcovers. It was time. Before she could regain 
her breath, while the afterglow of orgasm lulled her brain, he broke the 
kiss, lifted one leg onto the sofa, and said, "Kiss it, honey. Just a little 
kiss. Love it." 

"Daddy, I...." 

"Shhh!" Cupping his hand at the back of her head, he coaxed her lovely face 
forward. The tiny fingers at the base of his cock tightened. His own 
daughter, he thought. Christ! His own baby girl, barely fourteen and there 
they were; her creaming all over the place, him about to stick his big dick 
in her mouth. It was insane. Evil! But no matter how loathsome the act, no 
matter how hard he tried to remember who Lori was, what they were to-each 
other, his stiffness knew only the warmth, the beauty, the little-girl 
softness and pliability. He pressed her face closer still, moist pink lips 
to the glans of his cock. He drove his fingers brutally up her wet cunthole. 
"Suck me off," he croaked. "Lori? Baby? Open your sweet little mouth, and 
eat Daddy's dick." 

Lori whined. She looked from his sweating face to the long veiny thing 
protruding like a slightly bowed hickory stick from her small , fist. Her 
mouth opened and closed ... opened again ... slowly ... tentatively. As if 
she were testing the elasticity, trying to convince herself it would fit. 
She shivered. She looked back into his face. Her tongue appeared, flicked 
experimentally across the tip of his rod. 

"Ar! ARRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrr!" Steve forced her head forward, pumped with his 
hips. 

"D-Da-deeeeee." Lori gulped as the stiffness burrowed in past her teeth. Her 
eyes threatened to pop from their sockets. Her cheeks caved in as she tried 
to suck air ... noisily drawing on the fat glans ... pulling him deeper. 
Taking half the length into her face before Steve stopped pumping. 

Outside a seagull squalled. It soared low over the bungalow, dove toward the 
bay in the distance. Silently it glided over the rooftops, the beach, then 
swooped down, grazed the moonlit surface of the Atlantic and came up with a 
huge silver fish protruding from its gullet. Again it squalled, the cry 
garbled because of the treasure. Like Lori's small cries. Muffled. Somewhere 
between disbelief and submission. But sucking. Taking her father's hard dick 
into her face in spite of the initial reluctance, the awesome size. 

"Tha-that's it," groaned Steve. "Jesus! Eat it, sugar. Daddy's girl. 
Ummmmmm! Don't stop. Ta-take it all in. ALL! It'll ah! AHHHHHH! It'll fit, 
honey. Just pre ... umph! UM-MMumph! Pretend you're little again and my dick 
is one of them all-day suckers you liked so fucking much. Suck, sweetheart. 
Suck!" 

At the shoreline in the distance, the gull found a rock, landed and chewed 
until only the silver tail remained outside its gullet. Its body grew 
bloated, muscular spasms drawing the prize into its belly. Just as Lori's 
sweet mouth was drawing the glans of Steve's big Daddy-dick deep in her 
throat ... neck muscles working ... tongue and lips and cheeks milking the 
cum up from his sacs. 

The fish went down slowly. But inside the bungalow the cream came too 
quickly to suit Steve. He abandoned Lori's wet bush, clutched her head in 
both hands. He made her turn onto her stomach, pressed her face down, gasped 
and shot. The cum poured. His gaze traveled over her ass, the roundness, the 
milk-white texture, the blonde fuzz growing like fine jewel work low in the 
succulent crack. Panting, groaning from deep in his chest, he pumped upward, 
mashed the roots of his sex, his coarse cockhair, into the girl's lovely 
face. 

What kind of a man was he, he wondered. His own daughter. He watched her 
small blonde head bob up and down, watched her soft-softer than soft-ass 
jiggle, little-girl cheeks rubbing tightly together, pinching the crack, 
making the roundness more alluring. There was cunt all over the place ... 
two right next door. Willing pussy. Blowjobs. Janice and Betty and Lyn, 
Vivian and all the others who, with a bit of persuasion, would throw up 
their dresses and pull down their panties and screw. He didn't have to use 
Lori. He could, he was certain, have a different cunt three times a day. 
Perhaps two together. Perhaps Betty and Lyn, if he worked it just right, if 
he concentrated, would consent to form a mother-daughter team, with him as 
the ringmaster. Perhaps even three. Perhaps he could turn the next barbeque, 
the next block beach party, into an orgy, and fuck himself out in one night. 
There was absolutely no reason why he should have his dick in the girl's 
face, except she was lovely. New. Illicit. Her mother all over again, but 
better. At once different and the same. Pussy! 

"Lori," he sighed, doubling over, forcing the girl's face all the way down 
his stiff cock. He was unable to stop pissing cum. It ran from her mouth 
into the open fly of his pants. It grew thick in his cockhair. But it wasn't 
as if they were fucking, he told himself. Only a suck. A quick blowjob, with 
no one to see or tell. Their secret. "Again, baby," he choked. 

"Ummm!" Lori wrapped her hands around the roots of his meat, glanced up. Her 
eyes were laughing at him, joyous. Slowly, she lifted her head, drew her 
lips wetly up the length of his prick, and paused with only the tip in her 
mouth. It was indeed their secret, her mischievous look said. She spread her 
legs wide, glanced back at herself, telling him with her eyes that she 
wanted his fingers down there. Up her cunthole. Her ass. Then her head 
darted down-as swiftly as a seagull diving for a big silver fish-taking him 
in to the hilt, and sucking, noisily sucking, greedily sucking for another 
hot cumload. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

It was a lousy day. The sun was too bright at the window, the sky too blue, 
the truth too repulsive. He heard Lori moving about in the next room, the 
wood-on-wood grate of a drawer being opened. She was selecting the clothes 
she would wear, as she did every morning, then the shower would start, and 
her humming, tuneless but nonetheless sweet, would drift through the 
bungalow. 

Midge sighed in her sleep, turned toward him. The nightgown she wore was 
old, loose. One breast fell from the low neck, the nipple brown and 
puckered, the flesh smooth but with fine stretch marks and veins marring the 
whiteness. Not like Lori's firm little tits. Attractive, but no longer 
beautiful. No longer young. 

He cursed softly, turned away from his wife and stared at the bedroom door. 
He heard the shower being turned on, adjusted, the water splashing into the 
tub, then subdued, cushioned by Lori. The humming began. Low. High-pitched, 
and somehow different this morning, as if she were making the little-girl 
sounds only for him. He listened and wondered how it had happened; how he, a 
man who had never broken a law, who had lived half his life without shame, 
how such a man could suddenly become what he was. An incestuous father. A 
husband who neglected his wife and fucked everything in sight. He listened 
intently to Lori's sweet voice, wanting to feel guilty, knowing he should, 
but remembering instead how good the girl was, how willing. Remembering 
Janice and Betty. Vivian. Lyn. Unable to quiet the hunger deep in his gut. 

Again he cursed, sat up. He had to piss. His prick was stiff with morning 
water, protruding from the fly of his shorts. He reached for his cigarettes, 
lit one, and drew the acrid smoke into his lungs. He glanced back over his 
shoulder at Midge, wondered what she would say if she knew what had happened 
last night. Trying to forget, but sensitive to the sounds coming from the 
bathroom, to the thought of Lori naked and wet in the tub. The girl would be 
in there for at least half an hour, he knew. Washing. Brushing her long 
silken hair. On the toilet. And he did have to piss, he reasoned: he'd read 
somewhere, in some medical journal, that it was dangerous to hold back water 
or shit. Even a fart held back could hurt you internally. If he did go into 
the bathroom, it would be because of that and not to ogle the girl, Not to 
pick up where they had left off. Not to screw. 

He stood, crushed the cigarette in the ashtray on the night table. His dick 
throbbed. It was no use kidding himself. True, he had a piss-hard-on. But he 
awoke with a like dilemma every morning, and never before had he considered 
entering the bathroom while Lori was there. He started for the door. 

"Steve?" 

He turned to find Midge watching him from the bed. Her gaze dropped to his 
fly, leaped back to his face. She knew. He could see it in her sleepy green 
eyes, in the blush that crept into her face whenever she thought about sex. 
"I have to piss," he said gruffly. 

"Lori's in there." 

"So?" 

"I...." She bit her lip, frowned. She sat up, propped herself against the 
pillows and brushed a wisp of hair from her brow. Confusion crossed her 
face. It was as if she were seeing him for the first time and equating what 
she saw with the comments she'd made on the night he came in to find Lori on 
the sofa, the night it began. "You can't go in there while she's taking a 
shower," she finished at last. "She ... she's a woman now, and you can't 
walk in on her like ... like that!" She pointed at the red bulbous tip of 
his dick, bit her lip again. 

Steve was suddenly angry-with Midge for having guessed the truth, and with 
himself for making it obvious, for thinking with Ills cock instead of his 
head. He stood at the door for a long time. Until his piss-hard-on went 
down, leaving a limp hose hanging from the fly of the shorts, and leaving no 
doubt in his mind-or in Midge's mind, he could see in the troubled look on 
her face-about the cause of the stiffness. 

Without speaking, knowing there was nothing he could say to refute the 
physical evidence, knowing too that this was not the time to speak, that 
Midge needed to be left alone with her own thoughts, he strode to where his 
pants lay on the floor near the bed. He had never done that before either, 
he mused. The service had taught him neatness. And that was the problem: 
system and regimentation! In the past few weeks, since they'd arrived at the 
summer home and he'd made up his mind to compensate for the long line of 
neat years behind-years of training, and early to bed, early to rise-his 
entire outlook had changed, and was changing still. He was no longer the guy 
with stripes on his arm and a rifle stuck up his ass to keep him from going 
any way but straight. He was free. 

"W-where you going now?" asked Midge, voice small and timid, looking as if 
she might cry as he slipped the pants on, stepped into loafers, and again 
started for the door. 

"Out!" he snapped. "To take a piss where I don't have to wait in line." 

He walked angrily around the block three times before deciding to stop at 
the Anderson house. He saw it ahead, shabby beside his bungalow, in need of 
repairs. Stu rarely worked on the place. Shingles were gone from the roof, 
and the paint, faded yellow with dingy white trim, was at least four years 
old. He recalled what Lyn had said about Stu the day before. A fishing trip. 
A day and a night, and another half day, with an excuse to do what even 
Betty knew about. He turned into the drive, wondering if Lyn would prove as 
hospitable this morning as she had been the evening before. 

Betty came rushing out the screen door, almost knocked him down. He caught 
her shoulders, grinned-into her pixie face. She was bright-eyed and scrubbed 
clean, a tempting morsel. It was great the way the prospect of another young 
piece, one he had already sampled and knew to be almost as good as Lori, 
almost as eager, could banish the anger, the doubt, make him sure of himself 
once again, set the adrenals flowing hot in his loins. He stared down at her 
miniature tits, mostly nipple and showing plainly through the T-shirt-like 
top she wore. His gaze dropped to the crotch of her short-shorts. 

Betty giggled, covered her mouth with one fragile hand and glanced nervously 
back at the house. "Boy," she whispered, "if everyone I knew was like you, 
all I'd ever do is ... well, you know!" She twisted out of reach, ran down 
the drive. "Gotta meet the kids," she called back, waving. She was gone 
before he could ask where her mother was. 

Steve stood at the door, undecided whether to knock or take Lyn at her word, 
the open invitation the day before, and walk right in. He scratched softly 
on the screen, tried to peer into the house. Nothing. No movement, no 
answer. The bungalow was dark compared to the glare of sunlight, and if Lyn 
was in, she was at the opposite end of the place, maybe still in bed. 

Did she sleep naked, he wondered. Pajamas? A housecoat like the one Betty 
was wearing the day he walked in on her? The prospect of finding out made 
him pant. Quietly, he opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. He eyed 
the long hall off the kitchen, the way to the bedrooms and bath. He had to 
piss, he reminded himself. His cock was no longer hard, but felt bloated. 
His bladder was full. "Lyn?" But not really loud enough, not really wanting 
to be heard. He stepped into the hall, started for the bathroom door beyond 
the master bedroom. 

He stopped short, drew a sharp breath. Lyn was dressing. She stood before 
the dresser at the far side of the bedroom, reaching up and behind to hook 
the snaps of her bra ... sheer panties covering her plump ass like a second 
skin ... the nylon sunk deep in the crack. It was like looking at twins; the 
one in the mirror was showing him her tits and the dark puffy triangle at 
the crotch of the panties, the other displaying the backs of full thighs, 
and the motor, her wide bottom, that made the front go when a man climbed 
aboard. He forgot about having to piss. He forgot about Betty, Lori, Janice, 
Vivian, Midge. He forgot everything except how good it felt to stick his 
dick in a strange pussy. 

Lyn sighed as the stubborn snaps caught, dropped her arms and turned. "Oh!" 

"I'm sorry, I...." he began, stopped himself. Why bother, her reasoned, she 
knew what he wanted. Cunt! She had as much as offered it to him yesterday. 
There was no reason to fake it, waste time. "I figured you'd be asleep," he 
continued. "In bed. I saw Betty go out and wanted to catch you that way. But 
this is even better." 

"How dare you!" Lyn balked. She retreated. One hand spread like a fan with 
five stems at her pussy, the other went to her tits. 

Steve laughed. Women were all alike, all wanting to screw, but playing it 
coy, demanding a chase, persuasion. Stepping boldly into the room, he closed 
the distance between them. His hand captured the one at her tits, brushed it 
away. "I like you better this way," he said softly. "You've got a beautiful 
body, Lyn, don't hide it. Every time I look at you, I think, She must be a 
great lay. I bet her cunt is tighter than Betty's. Hotter. Like mother like 
daughter." 

"You bastard, you ... you didn't!" 

"She fucks like a bunny if that's what you're asking. I bet she got it from 
you. I bet she lays awake night listening to you and Stu, and that's how she 
learned all the tricks. She sucks pretty good, too. You ever try that? 
Sucking? A dick in your face?" 

Lyn tried to move past him, toward the bed where her housecoat lay. Steve 
caught her arm, spun her. She tried to slap his face. He caught that hand, 
too, twisted both arms behind her back, held her wrists trapped and forced 
her close. The nylon panties crackled electrically against his pants. His 
dick began to rise. 

"L-llet me go," hissed Lyn. 

"I might if I thought you really wanted me to. But you don't want me to." 

"I do. Do!" She squirmed, rubbing her cunt, her belly, her thighs, against 
him, bringing his dick up tall. "Oh, you ... you ... you fucking cocksucker, 
you!" she cried. "Betty's only twelve. A baby. You animal. You ... you ... 
oh, let me fucking go!" 

"I'll let you fuck any way you want to, but not go," he taunted. The hand 
holding her wrists moved teasingly up and down the hot crack of her 
quivering ass. He pressed forward, making her back up until her thighs met 
the edge of the mattress. He let her go, let her fall back onto the bed and 
bounce. He was on her, spreading her legs on the rumpled bedding before she 
could regain her balance. 

Lyn fought, panted. She clawed and kicked, twisting her face away each time 
he tried to cover her lips with his mouth. He shoved his hand between her 
legs, made her open, and fingered her slit through the panties. She gasped, 
struggling still, refusing to kiss him, but gaping her legs and accepting 
the fingers as readily. 

Steve nuzzled her breasts. His fingers found the elastic legband of the 
panties, slipped beneath to weave patterns in her wiry cunthair, then 
approached the mouth of her sex but pulled abruptly back each time her hips 
rose off the bedding. He had her, he knew. It was getting easy-almost too 
simple. He locked his teeth on one cup of the bra, tugged. Her huge breast 
jumped free, the nipple red-brown and turgid. He sucked the fat bud into his 
mouth, worked it around on his tongue and rubbed the hot hairy mound of her 
sex. 

"Stu'll be home soon," whispered Lyn. 

"He's fishing." 

"Betty...." 

"She has a date. By now she's probably doing the same thing we're doing." 

"Oh, don't. Don't do it. Not now. Wait. I-" her ass shot off the mattress to 
meet the finger slipping finally up her wet gash. "Ohhhhhhhhh. Owww. Y-you 
... you-ow! Don't. You mustn't. You ... we ... oh! Oh! OH!" 

Steve lifted his face from her tit. This time she didn't resist. Her lips 
opened, her mouth accepted his tongue. The fists at his chest uncurled, 
fingers splayed, reaching for his shoulders, searching. Her nails bit into 
his flesh. She moaned, raised one knee, and kissed him back. Her cunt drew 
him deep, the satiny inner muscles working like an excited clam on his 
stabbing fingers. The estimation was correct, Steve affirmed mentally, she 
was going to be a great lay. Already her cunthole was sopping wet, eager. 
Already her ass was in motion. He threw his leg over her thigh, letting her 
feel the stiffness, the urgent need in his pants. 

Turning slightly onto her side, Lyn placed her thick bush close to the 
bulge. Steve glanced down. The kinky black hair of her pussy was bunched at 
the leg of the panties, the scruff parted where his fingers stoked. He liked 
hairy cunts. He remembered the time Midge was shaved to give birth to Lori, 
how stupid it looked. A cunt without hair was like Thanksgiving without 
turkey; a holiday still, a treat, but not nearly so good. He eyed the wiry 
coils, felt them spring up against the palm of his hand, felt her 
cuntlips-mature, fat, and pouting-nip like a toothless puppy on his wet 
fingers. He sniffed. Lyn had a stronger aroma than Betty. He could almost 
see it shimmering up from her twat, like heat rising up from the pavement on 
a July afternoon. Like the cloud that wafted in off the docks when the 
Shrimpers came in. He made the kiss last, prolonging the moment of entry. He 
devoured her with his eyes, letting gaze travel leisurely up to her one 
naked tit, then back to her heaving belly-some fat, but not enough to 
mention-the perfect cushion for lovemaking. He tried to gauge the strength 
in her full mother thighs, to imagine the feel of her short legs tight at 
his waist, the heels of her feet high on his back. Anticipating. Making the 
conquest even better through the uncertainty of what she would be like once 
his hard dick was in. Dipping. Sloshing in and out. Grating across her 
sensitive clit with each forward lunge. 

Momentarily, he abandoned her cunt, searched for the snaps he had watched 
her struggle with when he arrived at the bedroom door. Lyn turned farther 
onto her side, helping him now, the last ounce of resistance gone. The bra 
came undone. He slipped the straps from her shoulders, down her arms, off. 
Her big tits quivered like pink and white Jell-o. 

He broke the kiss. "Take these fucking things off," he growled, tugging at 
the waist of the panties. 

Lyn hesitated. In her eyes there was doubt-not the doubt of unwillingness, 
but a question. "Did ... did you really d-d-do it to Betty?" she asked in a 
hoarse voice. "F-fuck her like you said? In ... in the mouth too?" 

"I would've fucked 'er again this morning if she hadn't run when I got 
here," he replied bluntly. "She's good. A virgin til I broke 'er in. But a 
natural. That hot little pink cunt of hers can do tricks you wouldn't 
believe. And her mouth! Christ! She sucks almost as good as ... Jesus 
motherfucker! Almost as fucking good as Lori!" 

Lyn blinked. Disbelief, confusion, crept into her face. "L-L-Lori? Your 
Lori?" 

He nodded, delighted by her reaction. Suddenly he didn't care who knew about 
him and Lori. Lyn wouldn't tell, he was certain. Not while he was fucking 
her too. Not while she had her own secrets to hide. Again he considered the 
possibility of an orgy. "You should watch that kid go," he continued, 
setting it up in his head, envisioning a tangle of female arms and legs and 
himself in a huge bed. "Betty, too. I never fucked anything near as good as 
those two. It's something to see. You might learn something." 

Lyn made a subdued sound of disgust. But in her brown smoldering eyes there 
was curiosity, the same look he'd seen in Betty's wide frightened eyes when 
his dick came up hard and he steered her tiny hand to it. Women were 
strange, complex creatures, he was learning, timid, voicing revulsion at the 
first mention of illicit sex, but far more eager than men once the barriers 
were down and the fucking began. He tugged at the waist of the panties, 
pushing them down past the mass of ebony curls crowning her womanhood. His 
fingers crept beneath her big ass. "Take 'em off," he demanded, rubbing the 
furious bulge of his cock along the smooth inner expanse of her thigh, the 
tip grazing her cunt-hole. 

"I ... I should hate you!" yelped Lyn. "M-my Betty. An' Lori, your own 
daughter! Oh! You ... y-you're a ... an animal! A ... ap-p-pervert!" 

"Off!" He stared into her face, intimidating her, willing her to comply. 
Slowly, her hands dropped. He watched her thumbs hook at the waist of the 
panties. She raised up for the hand kneading her buttocks, doubled her legs, 
and slid the nylon down, threw the panties to the floor, "Now my pants," 
commanded Steve, feeling suddenly omnipotent. Cruel. He guided her hands, 
waited while she undid the belt, his fly. He kicked off his loafers. "Take 
the fuckin' things all the way off," he ordered, shifting so she could get 
the pants and shorts down his, legs. All the time watching her face. Noting 
each muscular twinge, revolt, a residue of revulsion making her jaw square, 
then partial acceptance, a relaxation of features, undeniable pleasure as 
his fingertips probed deep in the split up her backside. 

At last they were naked, Steve propped on his elbow above her, hands 
encircling the base of one succulent tit. He squeezed, made the nipple stand 
tall. Again he lowered his head and sucked the bud into his mouth. 

"Ow, Owwwwwwwwww!" Lyn trembled. Her hips rolled from side to side on the 
sheet, wet black pussy reaching for the stiffness dry-humping her thigh. One 
arm snaked over his shoulder, hand curled at the back of his neck. Her other 
hand moved down his body, through the matted hair on his chest, pausing to 
test the hardness of his washboard abdomen, stopping timidly at the forest 
surrounding his sex. 

Steve held his breath. Waiting, Knowing that soon, when the urge became more 
than she could endure, when her cunthole demanded its due, the hand would 
close tight on his prick, and Lyn, like the others, would do anything he 
asked. He sucked first one nipple then the other, tonguing the tensile buds 
until both were twice normal size. 

The hand clutched suddenly. Steve gulped. He watched her legs open wide, 
felt her tug at the knob of his cock, trying to steer it home. "Easy, baby," 
he choked. "Make it last. Slow. Go um! UMMMMMMmmm! Go fucking slow!" 

"Bastard!" Lyn gritted her teeth, refused to meet his gaze. But her hand 
stoked. A tiny bead of clear gel appeared at the tip of his dick. Her finger 
distributed the lubricant, palm working it over the cylindrical shaft, 
preparing the stake for the initial lunge. Small, unintelligible noises came 
from deep in her throat. Her hips bucked. The sound of her breathing filled 
the room. Her pussy began to smoke, the heat from her gash actually visible, 
rising up to tantalize his nostrils-with the sweet woman stink. She was his. 
His to do with as he pleased. 

Looking her up and down, from the mysterious blackness of her pussy to the 
equally appealing pinkness of her mouth, Steve tried to decide which hot 
little port to weigh anchor in. He kissed down her belly and into the hair. 
She squirmed, urging him on. He craned his neck to stare wondrously into the 
livery folds of her cunt. He grinned. It was, he had to admit, a 
dumb-looking contraption-as if someone had made the cut with an ax, leaving, 
layers of raw flesh, and completing the job by placing a pink-headed soldier 
at the main gate. His gaze traveled lower, met her tight winking asshole. 
The smell there was stronger. Dank. Almost repulsive. As if she hadn't wiped 
herself well the last time she shit. He considered her sphincters. He had 
never been one for backdooring, had tried it only once, had made the girl 
mess the bed and had never gone back for more. But he had never been one for 
blowjobs either, he reminded himself. Not until Janice. And Lyn's ass did 
have unique qualities. Like the dimples in .each snow-white cheek, the 
softness. What appeared to be an extra deep crack, an extra tight round-eye, 
His dick sprang free of her, hand, as if in agreement. As if telling him to 
guide it there, set the fat tip in the brown tightness and watch. 

"Damn you," sobbed Lyn. "Why don't you do something? P-put it in!" 

"Where?" countered Steve. 

She met his gaze now, the revulsion back in her eyes. "You ... you know 
where. Where it goes. In ... in my cunt! I won't blow you, if that's what 
you're thinking. No! I won't do it. I ... won't!" 

Steve laughed, amused by the lie. She'd do whatever he told her to do, he 
knew. He positioned himself between her fleshy white thighs. "Who said 
anything about sucking? Not me, baby. I've had that from the best-Betty and 
Lori, Now I want some of this!" 

"Oh! Oh, you fucking no good bastard, s-s-sto-op!" She tried to twist away 
from the spike burrowing low between the tender halves of her ass. "No! 
NO-OWWWW!" 

Steve ignored her. Staring down, watching his dick perform, he humped. The 
tip disappeared into the tuft of blackbrown hair at the mouth of her rectum. 
The delicious bite of her sphincters tore a strangled cry from his lips. He 
humped again. Harder. He pressed, using his weight to drive the torpedo into 
the tightness. 

Lyn wiggled back on the mattress, retreating a bit before he caught up to 
her. But the more she fought, the more determined he became. An asshole 
screw ... how long had it been? He couldn't remember, didn't try. Instead he 
reached beneath her, took firm hold of the fat cheeks of her rear and pulled 
her up to meet his next forceful drive. She yelped, opened her mouth as if 
to scream. He stifled the cry with a kiss. Sucking the breath from her 
lungs, gagging her with his tongue, he spread the soft mounds of her bottom 
and pumped half the length of his throbbing joint up her delectable chute. 

"Umph! Ohhh! Ummmmmmmmmmuupphhh! Ummmmmmmmmmm," moaned Lyn ambiguously. But 
there was nothing ambiguous about the way she moved, nothing to guess at in 
the sensuous grind of her hips. She opened her legs wider still, cocking 
them at the knee-a frog spread-eagled beneath him. The flesh along her inner 
thigh trembled. Her cunthole opened and closed wetly on his coarse cockhair. 

He let his cock bask. Moving one hand around to her pussy, he captured her 
clit between thumb and forefinger. Gently he pinched. Lyn squealed. He 
rolled the bud, taunting her, making her thrash. The bed rocked like a boat 
out to sea. Her movements drew his dick deeper. Her asshole sucked the fat 
glans, the slippery walls of her rectum suddenly eager, willing, wanting it 
all. But it wasn't enough for Steve; he wanted to prove to her, to himself, 
that he could persuade her to do whatever he asked. That fucking was a 
narcotic, and once she was hooked, knew the joy of a manmeat injection, 
nothing else-not daughters or husbands or wives, morals or 
conscience-mattered. That the holes in a woman's body were made to be 
plugged and cocks were invented to fill the vacant slots. 

He pulled back, marveling at the way her tight asshole protested, tried to 
hold him. He raised up on outstretched arms, looked into her face. He stared 
for a long time, watching her chew her lip, start to speak, stop herself, 
and lay docile. He glanced down to where his long prick protruded from 
between the halves of her ass, only the tip embedded. "I changed my mind," 
he said at last. "About the blowjob. I think it'd go pretty good about now." 

"You rotten...." 

He pulled all the way out before she could complete the sentence. Her mouth 
formed a wide disappointed O. Her hand reached for him. Quickly Steve 
rearranged himself on the bed, crotch to face, crotch to face. "That what 
you want, baby? Take it! All you want!" 

Lyn stared askance at the shit-smeared rod bobbing at her chin. "It ... oh, 
it's the filthiest thing! It ... it stinks!" 

"That's your own hole you smell, not me. Wash it off. With your tongue." He 
laid his cheek on her thigh, blew into her bush. Her ass bucked. He moved 
his face closer, wedged one arm beneath her, his hand coming up from behind 
between her gaped legs. With two fingers, he spread the lips of her cunt and 
blew harder. 

"Ohah! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Lyn clutched his prick as if she were 
drowning and it was a life raft. Her eyes fluttered closed. She turned onto 
her side, cocked one leg and strained with her hips. Her pussy ground itself 
into the morning stubble on his chin. "Oh! Oh! Ohah! Owwwww! Umph! Ah! 
UMMMM-MMMMMMMMmmmmah!" 

He knew what she wanted-knew too she would do what he wanted once he gave it 
to her. His tongue lashed out, raked her gash. The pouting lips opened. Her 
clit popped out. He caught the sensitive bud between his teeth, shook his 
head like a dog playing with a bone. 

"Oh, God. Oh! Oh God, yessssss," whispered Lyn. "Um! Do it. Steve? Do it to 
me, to me, to me." 

"Do what?" he mumbled against her pussy. 

"My cunt. Like t-that. Um!" 

He licked up one juicy cuntlip, down the other. He flicked his tongue into 
the breach, down the crack of her ass and back. His fingers teased both hot 
hairy holes. He inched his dick closer, within tonguing distance, said, "It 
works both ways, baby. Suck for suck." 

"I do hate you. I do!" 

His teeth closed on a clump of coarse pussy hair, chewed. It was nice to be 
hated, he thought. Hated the way Lyn was about to hate him. With her mouth. 
Sucking. Drinking his cream. He felt her hot breath on the knob of his rod, 
drove his tongue deep in her cunthole and inched closer still. 

Suddenly Lyn took the initiative. She rolled, placing him on the bottom, her 
legs astraddle his face and mouth suspended above the pole standing straight 
up from his cockhair. "All right!" she sobbed. "I ... I'll do it. I will. 
Only don't stop again. Eat me. My cunt. Eat it good. I ... I'll do it. 
An-y-thing!" Her lips brushed the tip of his joint. She cooed. Her mouth 
opened wide. Slowly she lowered her face. 

Lights flashed inside Steve's head. The wrinkled skin on his balls went 
tight. He fucked up into the warmth, the moistness. He heard Lyn gag. He too 
opened his mouth wide, covered her cunthole and sucked ... showing her how 
it was done ... gulping the sweet juice from her pussy ... sniffing her 
stink. He felt her soft lips slide down the shaft of his tool, pause midway 
while she tasted the strange thing in her face. He let his ass fall back to 
the bed, demonstrating how smoothly a cock slipped in and out of her mouth. 
His dick felt suddenly cold. He lifted, replacing the veiny stiffness in the 
warmth, the tight wetness. 

Going slowly, tentatively, taking only an inch at a time, Lyn took him back 
in. Her ass began to sway gently from side to side. Her cunt dripped goo on 
his face. She took his fat balls in her hand, hefted them. "Gog!" she 
exclaimed. "Um! Um, do it, Steve." 

He didn't have to be told; he'd won! But the prize was yet to come-the blast 
that would tear his insides apart, leave both of them spent and gasping. He 
gripped her wide hips, stared into her asshole and sucked. It was far better 
this way, he mused. Getting a blowjob was good, but participating, chewing a 
pussy and tonguing a clit while it happened, was like drawing interest on 
money in the bank. Like having the best of everything. Like what he imagined 
heaven would be, if there was such a place. Two for one, Double your 
pleasure, double your fun. 

He envisioned Lori taking a shower, recalled the look on Midge's face when 
she awoke and saw his piss-hard-on. He still had to piss. But fucking came 
first; mouth to joint, mouth to pussy resuscitation. There would be time 
enough later for pissing and thoughts of Midge. Time for decisions. 

He buried his nose in the crack of her ass, drove his tongue as far up her 
nipping vagina as it would go. He lifted his knees at either side of her 
head, braced his weight on his feet. Lyn stepped up the pace. He matched it, 
roll his hips down, skimming the sheets, never quite touching the mattress. 
Fucking. Pumping upward and back. In and out, in and out. Lyn was a good 
pupil. She took him in to the roots, held for a moment before allowing his 
dick to retreat, then was there, coming down to meet his next lunge, mashing 
her cunt into his face at the same time. 

The room seemed to spin. He watched the ceiling tumble over and over and 
over, matching the sway of Lyn's hips. He saw the sky through the window, 
the top of Lyn's head in the dresser mirror across from the foot of the bed. 
He heard seagulls, their cries interspersed with the soft moans and gulps 
from the mouth swabbing his tool. He felt the orgasm building ... in his 
nuts ... in the hole he was sucking. He worked faster. He traced the deep 
crack of her ass with one finger, shafted the dart into the slot his hard 
dick had recently vacated. 

"I ... oh! "liiiiiiiiii! S-S-Steve! Owl I ... I'm c-c-oh! OH! I ... I...." 

"Coming!" he supplied, already there, already shooting hot gook into her 
mouth. 

Later there would be time for problem solving, he decided, For Lori and 
Midge. For getting his thoughts straight and untangling the mess he could 
sense brewing next door. Later. Sometime between now and the next lay. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

No summer had ever passed so quickly. It seemed as if they had just arrived, 
as if he had only the day before begun to make up for what he had missed 
while in the Army, and suddenly, far too suddenly, it was Labor Day-back to 
school for Lori, for him and Midge back to the daily city grind. Nothing had 
been resolved. The weeks had slipped by unnoticed, each of them so 
thoroughly involved in the hectic vacation routine, that there was no time 
to think, to reason things out, to attempt to span the awkward breach 
created on the morning Midge awoke and saw the physical proof of what she 
had merely been guessing at since the night Steve first touched the girl 
while she lay asleep on the sofa. 

The anticipated orgy hadn't materialized. For Steve, the summer had begun 
with a promise and had ended with disappointment. He sat slouched behind the 
wheel of the family car, trying to ignore Lori's sexy antics in the 
rear-view mirror, and trying to get Midge to talk about her fall plans, the 
traffic, anything. 

But it was no good. Midge had withdrawn, almost as if she were giving him to 
Lori. There was an unspoken understanding between them; they were husband 
and wife in public, but at home alone, when other couples made love, the 
bedroom door was locked after supper, and the sofa, the place where Lori 
always seemed to be at bedtime, was his for the night. And Lori was always 
willing to soothe him, always eager to make it momentarily right by giving 
Daddy what Mummy had denied. It was a situation that perpetuated itself. 

"Can't we stop for a Coke?" Lori asked now. "We've been going for hours, 
Daddy. Hours!" 

He glanced sidelong at Midge. She continued to stare at the windshield, eyes 
unblinking behind the dark glasses, as if she hadn't heard. "Relax," he told 
the girl. "We'll be home soon enough. Enjoy the ride." 

"Rut Daddy!" 

He watched her cute sunburned face in the mirror. You owe me that much, her 
look said. Boy! 

They lapsed into silence again, the steady thump of the tires, the sway of 
the car, putting distance between them and the shore. It was the first 
chance Steve had had to reason things out ... Lori ... Midge. It was indeed 
an awkward situation. But it wasn't as if he were actually fucking the girl, 
he mused. Lord knew he wanted to. Each time her hot little mouth gripped 
him, each time he touched her warm naked flesh-feeling but never permitting 
himself to go all the way, to fuck-it was as if they were the only two 
people left in the world. But he had decided the first time, the first day 
the moral barriers fell, t-hat there were plenty of others to screw, and 
Lori was special. Only her mouth. Her lovely young face. It wasn't as if he 
were actually committing incest, because the girl would never get pregnant 
from sucking his cock. 

Trees whizzed by the car. A convertible, two teenage longhairs in front, 
passed them, the boy on the passenger side flirting with Lori. She scowled, 
slumped in the back seat, and rolled her eyes at Steve in the mirror. 

Traffic grew heavy, slowing them down as the turnpike exit appeared ahead on 
the right. Steve sighed. Back to work, he thought. But with the experiences 
of the summer behind, and more extramarital adventures ahead. Midge? There 
was no telling! Eventually he'd figure it out, settle her down. They had 
already invited the Andersons and the Sniders to visit with them in the 
city, and if he worked it just right, got Viv and Betty and Lyn on his side, 
put Lori to work on her mother, perhaps Midge would see things their way. 
Perhaps she'd realize that balking was nonsense, come around, and then, 
again if he worked it just right, the orgy he'd planned as icing on the 
vacation would materialize. 

He braked for the toll booth, choosing the one on the right to create an 
excuse to touch Midge's hand. She reached for the coin he offered. "Summer's 
over," he said softly, significantly, knowing she would read more than was 
meant into the statement. 

He paused to look down at her legs, at the place where the minidress dipped 
into her crotch. He didn't want to lose her. He wanted them both-mother and 
daughter. In the Army he had conquered impossible objectives; had taken 
strategic positions others refused to dare, always making even the most 
un-likely things work his way. He wasn't used to defeat, didn't like it. 

A pair of fingers snapped inside his head. Why not, he reasoned. Boldness! 
He could take Midge in the same military fashion, seek and destroy all 
defenses. Attack when expected to retreat, give ground when called for. Once 
they were home, in familiar surroundings, in the bed they'd christened on 
their wedding night, the place where Lori was made, he'd surprise her with a 
frontal onslaught. He'd tell about him and Lori, the others. Shock her. 
Break through her lines. He'd use her reactions, her revulsion-just as he 
had used Lyn Anderson's disbelief-to get his own way. 

He glanced back at Lori. She was still watching the boys in the convertible, 
engrossed in spite of herself, peeking over the edge of the door. He turned 
back to Midge. "No more fucking bridge clubs," he finished at last. "No more 
goddam locked bedroom doors." 

Midge too glanced back at their daughter, countered, "No more Lori?" 

The car behind them honked impatiently. He motioned to the toll box. He 
watched Midge lean out the window to drop the coin into the slot. The hem of 
her dress rode high, exposing one nylon-clad cheek of her tempting ass. He 
cupped his hand there, squeezed. She jumped, turned and stared uncertainly 
into his eyes. "No more nothing you're not a part of," he said. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

It simply wasn't to be. He'd forgotten that home was a place where Lori had 
friends, and that all of her friends were delightful young girls, and that 
girls, like Janice and Betty, Lori herself, found him attractive. He had 
barely gotten the front door open, had yet to bring the bags in from the 
car, when the first minx appeared. 

"Hey! Hey, Lori, you're back!" 

Lori waved. "Hi, Deb." 

Steve stood at the open door, wondering how little Debbie Watson from down 
the street had managed to grow tits since the last time he saw her. He 
watched the two embrace, saw Debbie eye him shyly over "Lori's shoulder. 
Little girls did grow up, he reminded himself. All the squealing minxes he 
remembered from his leaves, the kids Lori used to bring home for cookies and 
milk, would be young ladies now. Ripe. In bloom. They would be wearing bras 
and blouses in place of the colorful pullovers; silk and nylon pantyhose, 
panties and sheer silk stockings, instead of little-girl cotton drawers. But 
Debbie was wearing none of these; there were no elastic pantyleg ridges 
beneath the hip-huggers caressing her ass, and nothing but nipple showing 
through the crop top. 

"'Lo," said the girl, acknowledging him. She stepped back from Lori, cocked 
her small head and eyed him curiously. "Hey! Where's your soldier suit?" 

"Daddy retired," supplied Lori, making it sound as if he were 300 years old. 
"Didn't you know? He'll be home all the time now. Resting up. Won't you, 
Daddy?" She grabbed Debbie's hand, ran past him into the house before Steve 
could reply. 

Steve shook his head. Cunt! Even Lori was jealous! If he did live to be 300, 
he'd never understand women, he was certain. He returned to the car for the 
bags, the image of the girl vivid in his mind. He wondered if Al Watson ever 
looked at his daughter in the way he looked at Lori. Al was a horny old 
bastard, he knew; there wasn't a Friday that went by without him running off 
to what he told Helen was his "bowling night with the boys." But all the 
boys had tits and lived in the plush whorehouse downtown, and the extra 
money Al made, his last raise, the one he hadn't told Helen about, supported 
the outings. It wasn't difficult to imagine the man putting it to the 
delectable Debbie. 

Midge was changing when he returned to the house with Lori's suitcases. He 
headed for the girl's room, stopped in the hall out of sight, listened. 

"He's a dream!" Debbie was saying in an excited whisper. "We went for a ride 
in his dad's new car last night, an' we parked--out by the old football 
diamond. Wow, Lor! It took him maybe two minutes to get my top off." 

Steve almost dropped the bags. He glanced back over his shoulder. The door 
to the master bedroom stood ajar and he could see Midge, perched at the edge 
of the mattress, peeling the nylons off her trim legs. He moved closer to 
Lori's room, out of Midge's line of vision and to where he could see the 
gossiping girls. 

"But he's only a boy!" Lori was seated Indian fashion at the center of the 
bed, the skirt high on her thighs, the blonde curls showing at the sides of 
her panties. But Steve had eyes only for Debbie. The girl lay on her 
stomach, legs raised at the knee, ankles crossed, and succulent little round 
ass squirming like two pups in a blanket each time she moved. "Boys're 
okay," Lori told her. "But I like men!" 

Debbie propped her chin in the cradle formed by her hands. "Ha!" she 
blurted. "I suppose you know all about it!" 

"I do. I had Rudy doing me all summer. And a man, a real dream, doing me 
too." 

Debbie sat up. "Who?" 

Steve coughed, stepped abruptly into the room and set the bags down. He eyed 
the pair. They stared back at him guiltily. He didn't care if Debbie knew, 
but he, not Lori, had to be the one to tell her. At the right time. When 
they were alone. When he could use what he'd heard to get into her 
mischievous pants. It was going to take longer than he had anticipated to 
make up with Midge, he decided. Because he had made up his mind to not only 
tell the Watson girl what she wanted to know, but to show her. By nightfall 
the house was in order, the suitcases unpacked, and Midge's mother was on 
the phone wanting to know if they'd gotten home in one piece-the way Stevie 
drives! He listened to Midge say, "Yes, Ma. Uh-huh. That's right, Ma. Of 
course," for ten minutes, until Lori came into the room and asked for five 
bucks and a ride to the neighborhood hangout. 

Frowning, Midge watched him rise from the armchair. Placing her hand over 
the mouthpiece, she said, "It's only a few blocks, Steve. Lori can walk." 

But it wasn't Lori he was interested in. He'd heard Debbie say she'd be home 
alone most of the night, babysitting while her parents went to a show. It 
was the ideal opportunity to "kill three birds with one stone; to begin 
reconciling Midge, to show Lori he wasn't hers to command, and to visit the 
curious minx who considered boys who took off her clothes to be real dreams. 
He reached for his wallet, extracted a five. "Your mother's right," he told 
Lori. "It won't hurt you to walk. Besides, I have to see Al Watson on 
business. His firm does our accounting and I have to set up a few things." 

Midge murmured another uh-huh into the phone, apparently satisfied. And 
before Lori could say what he knew she was about to blurt, he had hustled 
her to the front door and out. "I'll be awhile," he directed at Midge. "You 
know Al Watson. He'll probably talk my damn ear off for an hour before we 
get anything settled." 

Outside, Lori gave him a dirty look. He took hold of her arm, marched her 
down steps, down the walk to the street. She started to balk. He motioned 
toward the living room window, where Midge sat watching them through the 
blinds. "But Debbie's father's not home an' you know it," Lori cried. 

He grinned, turned her, and started her down the street. She looked back, 
glanced again at the lighted living room window. She looked down at the five 
dollar bill in her hand, then at him. For the moment they were father and 
daughter, nothing more. Steve could see she didn't like it, didn't think it 
was fair. Liked even less the thought of him with Debbie. He stood firm, 
playing the game for their audience, Midge. Until finally Lori relented, 
turned again, and was gone. He sighed, did an about-face, paused to light a 
cigarette, then strode purposefully toward the Watson place. 

Debbie appeared at the door after the second ring of the bell. She had set 
her shoulder-length chestnut hair in curlers, and there was a brown smudge, 
what he supposed was chocolate, on her cute chin. She cocked her head as 
she'd done that, afternoon, waited. When he said nothing, merely stood 
looking past her at the noisy TV, she smiled, piped, "Love American Style. 
It's my favorite program. I even watch all the reruns." 

She began to fidget under his gaze. He watched her tits, the nipples like 
pinkietips reaching, rise and fall evenly beneath the skimpy crop top. She 
was the same age as Lori, but taller, her lush little body more mature, 
wider of hip, fuller of breast. He eyed her bare navel, wanting to drop to 
his knees and kiss her there. To hold her round ass in his hands and chew 
the front the hip-huggers off with his teeth. His dick was already beginning 
to stir, to creep down the inside of his pantsleg like a hungry python 
uncoiling at the scent of easy prey. His nuts ached. He hadn't had a strange 
piece of pussy in days, and was so anxious, so horny from anticipating this 
moment all day, that he couldn't for the life of him think of a thing to 
say. 

"M-my father ... n-n-nobody's home 'cept me and the baby," offered Debbie. 

"I came to see you," he managed. 

"Huh?" 

"About the old football field outside town. What you and your boyfriend did 
out there in his dad's car last night. What you were telling Lori about in 
her bedroom today." 

Debbie gulped, stepped back, and clutched her hand to her mouth. He moved 
suddenly into the house, closed the door. He watched her gaze drop to his 
crotch, jump back to his face as if his long dick were a blowtorch, had 
seared her feathery lashes, her big brown-babydoll eyes. "I ... I...." 

He laughed, self-confidence returning. He liked them young. Pliable. More 
than a girl, yet not quite a grown woman. He glanced swiftly about the room, 
zeroed in on the deep easy chair facing the TV. He envisioned himself in the 
seat, the girl in his lap. He imagined her thighs astraddle the arms of the 
chair, cunthole gaped open, coming down on his meat. Was her pussy hair 
black, he wondered. Silky?-Coarse? Chestnut-colored like the hair on her 
head? He stepped close, took her hand. Her fingers curled over his like the 
wings of a delicate bird. "C'mon," he said hoarsely. "Don't worry, I'm not 
gonna tell your old man. I got something to show you." 

Debbie held back for a moment, then allowed him to walk her to the chair. He 
sat, patted his lap. Again she hesitated, warily eyeing the lengthy hose in 
his pantsleg. He tugged. She came slowly down, avoiding his harden, gingerly 
setting her plump buttocks low on one thigh. 

It would demand a bit of persuasion, thought Steve. Like Betty the first 
time. All the young ones, virgin or not, were frightened by the prospect of 
a grown man, a prick that was stiffer and bigger, more experienced, than a 
boy's knobby tool. But that was no problem. When it came to fucking, the 
more work involved, the more fore-play, the better the end result. He let 
the hand holding hers come to rest on the inside of one fleshy young thigh. 
He drew a last puff of smoke, crushed his cigarette out in the ashtray on 
the end table beside the chair. Grinning into the girl's half-frightened, 
half-curious face, he asked, "You ever go all the way with that boyfriend of 
yours? Fucking? You ever let him do more then take off your top and suck on 
your titties?" 

Debbie's cheeks turned first pink, then red, then deep, burning scarlet. She 
looked away from his hot searching eyes, shifted from buttock to buttock as 
if the questions had set an army of ants going inside her pants. Cutely, she 
balked, "How come you wanna know about stuff like that?" 

"Because I'm the man Lori told you about. Fucking. Me and her. All summer." 

The girl met his gaze. Her eyes went as wide as half-dollars. Her chin 
dropped. Her nose crinkled up, the nostrils turning out at each side like 
the petals of a delicate flower. The hand, lost to the wrist in his, turned, 
tried to wiggle free of his fingers. 

Steve stared hungrily at the points of her tits, thinking how white they 
would be, how pink of nipple, good to suck. He held fast to the hand 
squirming in his, moved it close to her cunt, and let the girl's fingertips, 
his own, brush the place where the skintight hip-huggers out-lined a puffy 
slit so tiny and sweet he was certain he'd never get his long bloated cock 
in. He could almost hear her crying out in pain at the first mighty lunge 
... thighs atremble ... plump little ass bucking. He could imagine himself 
gritting his teeth, forcing the bloated meat in, in spite the impossible 
tightness. "Jesus H. fucking Christ," he hissed, so engrossed in the vision 
his prick sprang up like a tree trunk and threatened to pop. 

"You let me go!" yelped Debbie, gaze riveted to the fat bulge in his lap. 

"Lori likes best to suck it. You ever suck one? A cock? Your boyfriend's? 
You let him come in your mouth?" 

Again the girl's nose crinkled up. "No-ow!" 

"Then we'll have to put it up here!" He released her hand, rammed his own 
hand into her crotch and wrapped his free arm around her hourglass waist. 
"Up your pussy. I bet you got a nice one. Christ! I bet it's already all 
fucking wet, you just thinking about a dick up there." 

"It's not. No. I ... I ... let me goooooo!" The girl's tiny fingers clawed 
at the hand working her sex. Rubbing. Making her squirm. She tried to rise, 
but the arm at her waist held fast, Steve coaxing her close to the bulge. 
"I'll tell!" she sobbed. "I'll ... oh! Oh, s-s-stop that. I ... ummmmmmmmmm! 
No! Owah! I ... I'll t-t-tell my father when he comes home. I ... I will!" 

Steve grunted cruel laughter, making light of the threat. "You won't tell, 
baby. If you do, then you'll have to tell about the boy in the car. How he 
sucked your tits. Maybe that's it, huh? Maybe you want old Uncle Steve to 
suck your nipples up hard before you give him some pussy." He nuzzled her 
breasts through the crop top, nipped the tips. He had her, he knew. He could 
feel it in the way her pubic mound swelled beneath his caresses, the way her 
hips jerked when he flattened his stinkfinger at the tight slit and pressed. 

"No-owww!" whispered. Debbie unconvincingly. "The baby. He ... he'll wake 
up." 

"Fuck the baby!" 

"Hummm!" 

"Tell me about your boyfriend." Steve tugged at her waist, drew her close. 
He made her rest her small head at his shoulder. "Tell me about how you 
screwed in the car," he urged. "How the boy sucked on your tits and what you 
did for him. Tell me, sweetheart. Be nice to old Uncle Steve." 

The girl whimpered. Her fingers stopped wrestling his wrist, tiny hands 
quiet atop the one steadily stroking her hot little wedge through the 
hip-huggers. Her breathing grew labored. "His name is Jimmy," she said 
finally, in a voice so low Steve wasn't sure she'd spoken until she went on. 
"Jimmy Lutz. He ... he plays football for our school team. I always liked 
him. But he never paid any attention to me till this year. When ... when my 
titties got big. An' my ass. He ... I used to catch him looking at me back 
there when I walked down the hall. He wanted to do me, I knew-all the boys 
did. Some I let feel me up ... in class ... in the movies. Only Jimmy I 
wanted to tease because it took him so long to notice I was a girl. With ... 
with a pussy an' all." She shifted, spread her young thighs for Steve's 
probing fingers. She lifted one hip for the bulge. 

Quickly, before she could revaluate and maybe protest again, but gently, so 
as not to frighten her by the awesome size, the steely stiffness, Steve 
shimmied down in the seat and centered his prick in the crack of her 
delectable little-girl ass. He felt her soft cheeks spread at either side of 
the shaft, felt the heat of her. He groaned. The hand at her waist moved 
slowly up, under the hem of the crop top to one succulent tit. "Then you let 
him suck this," he croaked, taunting the rubbery nipple, prompting her to 
continue. 

"Ummm." She leaned into his hand, conical breast flattening against his 
kneading fingers. 

"Tell me," he urged her. 

"In school at first. He ... he got me in the cloak room after class. 'I been 
watchin' you' he said. 'Them tits. Wow! That ass!' I ... I made believe I 
didn't want him to feel me. 'You're just a dumb football nut,' I told him., 
'I don't care if you are the star of the team, or if you never notice me.' I 
kept saying it over an' over while he felt me. Un-until he kissed me an' 
p-p-put his hand up my mini. On my p-p-pussy. Like ok! Iiiiiii ... I L-like 
you're doing now." Again she shifted, as engrossed in the tale, in 
remembering, as Steve had been in the vision of her fiery little pink 
cunthole protesting at the first furious stab of his dick. "But then someone 
came into the classroom, made a noise," she added. "I made him stop. Jimmy. 
I made him take his f-finger out of my ... my hole! But he wouldn't until I 
felt him too, squeezed his hard thing, an' promised to meet him after supper 
an' do it again." 

The juice from her cunt had soaked through the crotch of the hip-huggers. 
Steve lifted his hand, sniffed. "Jesus!" The scent was like expensive 
perfume; a guaranteed man-getter. 

Debbie whimpered. She closed and opened her legs, closed and opened ... 
squeezing the halves of her cunt together ... using the fleshy part of her 
thighs to take up the massage where his hand had left off. She didn't resist 
when his fingers traced the waistband of the hip-huggers, Steve hunting the 
zipper. Nor did she protest when he found the brass links and opened the 
breach at her side. 

"Then the car," Steve breathed in her shell-like pink ear. 

"Yesssssssss!" Again Debbie opened wide for his probing fingers; gulped when 
he pushed the hip-huggers and panties, down, bared her to mid-thigh, and 
sought the mouth of her tight-so hot and tight Steve thought he would die 
from the mere touch-black-brown and curly-haired pussy. "Jimmy parked," she 
said, voice high-pitched, rising to match the frenzy he caused at her 
cuntlips. "I ... almost before I could turn in the seat, he had my top off 
an' was sucking. My tits. Like ... like baby does Mummy. I ... I was scared 
at first. I ... I was cherry. But then he made me touch him again, hold his 
... his hard thing! Um! I ... I forgot all about what I'd heard about it 
hurting the first time an' all. I didn't care if it hurt something awful. I 
wanted ... I ... I ... oh! J-J-Jimmy made me lie down on the seat, sucked my 
nipples an' took my pants off. All the time making me hold him, his ... his 
big cock! Hummm! Until he had me undressed, had it out, an' I felt it down 
thereere!" She pumped her hips frantically onto Steve's fingers, taking all 
four to the hilt-up her once-removed virgin cunthole. 

"Hold mine," said Steve. "Like you did for Jimmy in the car. Take it out for 
me, sweetheart." He undid the curls at the back of her head, threw the 
curlers to the floor. He turned her face toward him. "Kiss old Uncle Steve 
and take it out. Then we'll screw. Big? Jimmy's only a kid, like Lori told 
you. Uncle Steve'll show you what a real dick is, what it's like to be 
fucked by a man!" 

Breathing in short gasps, eyes glazed, Debbie complied. She puckered her 
lips-moist pink fruit, the lower lip a full grape, the upper atremble-opened 
to accept his tongue and groped at the front of his pants. Her hand shook. 
The zipper stuck halfway down. She tugged mightily, surprising Steve by the 
sudden burst of strength that left the material shredded along one side of 
the stubborn brass links. Her fingers shot into the opening, into the fly of 
the shorts. 

"Ah! Ah! Ahah, ummmmmmm!" she blurted as his long veiny dick leaped into the 
cool palm of her hand. 

Steve tore at the hip-huggers and panties, yanked them down and off her 
smooth legs. While she stroked his stiff joint, making it jump like a pogo 
stick, working the loose outer jacket of skin down and back, down and back, 
down and back, he undid his belt and the one button at his waist. He made 
her raise up, made her relinquish her greedy hold for the moment it took to 
rid himself of the pants and underwear. "Take off my shirt," he said gruffly 
into her mouth. And while she complied, undoing the buttons with one hand, 
jerking his need with the other, he lifted the crop top, and somehow-he 
didn't know how, couldn't say afterward-got her arms raised one at a time, 
got the thing off and had the lovely young girl, almost as lovely as Lori, 
naked in his lap. All except shoes. Her flats and his loafers and socks. But 
that didn't matter. What mattered was that his dick was free of encumbrance, 
and the girl, thighs wide, whacking him off in the space between, up-down, 
up-down close to her little-girl pussy, was dripping hot goo down his balls, 
ready to take him. 

Holding the kiss, sucking her tongue, thinking how good she would be as a 
blowjob but too close to coming to prolong penetration, he made Debbie turn 
in his lap, raise her knees. He guided her legs astraddle the arms of the 
chair, fiery cunthole suspended a mere inch above the angry red knob of his 
rod. He gripped one satiny buttock, fingers deep in the split up her 
backside, one dart sunk in her asshole, steered her hand to his thumping 
balls, took hold of the shaft of his manhood and set the tip of her livery 
slit. 

"Ohah! Oh! OHHHHHHHHHH!" Debbie threw her head back when he thrust. 

"Easy, baby," he gasped. "Ah! Oh, God! Christ!" He set the knob firmly, 
gripped the other cheek of her ass, preventing escape. "Fuck with me," he 
directed. "Open ahhhhh! OH! Work your cunt muscles for Uncle Steve. Come 
down when I pump." 

"I can't. It ... it hurts! I ... I...." 

He fucked his hips brutally upward again, planted his dick halfway in her 
hot little hole. Dizzy with the tight wetness of her, a fit so good, so 
perfectly matched-cunt to full-grown cock-that not a hair could be wedged in 
at either side, he was certain, he watched her firm titties bounce; he 
watched her expression go from pleasure to pain, back to uncertain pleasure, 
and wished he'd brought Lori along. He thought again of the orgy he'd 
planned; of Midge, Jan-ice, and Viv, Lyn and Betty. He held fast to the 
girl's quivering ass, drove another hard inch up her belly and imagined how 
good it would be to partake of two cunts at once. Or three. Or four. He 
envisioned himself surrounded by sopping wet pussies, fingers and tongue and 
rod working in unison ... hands cupped at two willing crotches ... mouth 
loving another ... insatiable cock buried right where it was. He barely 
heard the girl's moans, was aware only of the wonder of fucking his meat up 
a gash so delightfully tiny, so adorably tight, that it was like trying to 
force a size small rubber glove onto the business end of a baseball bat. 

"Oh-ho-ow. Ow. OHAH! It ... it's t-t-too big!" Debbie gripped the arms of 
the chair and lifted, trying to work herself up off the relentless stake. 

"Sit ... amhhhhhh! AH! Sit fucking still!" He moved his hands to her waist, 
squeezed. The girl gasped. He squeezed harder. Harder still. Until the 
resistance lessened and the inner walls of her luscious vagina accepted the 
spike ... sucking him in while he watched ... drawing ... nipping ... 
tugging him up, up. Until the black-brown curls of her pussy were flush with 
his balls. 

Whimpering, Debbie glanced down at the spectacle as if trying to convince 
herself the deed was actually done. Tentatively she let go of the arms of 
the chair. She slipped lower, the soft, creamy white halves of her teenage 
baby-doll bottom coming to rest full on his thighs. "Ow. Ow-wow." Her lush 
little pussy pulsed on the cylindrical monster. "Hummmmm!" She stared 
incredulously into Steve's face. 

"Should I stop?" he taunted. 

"Uh ... uh-UH!" 

He smiled triumphantly. One hand returned to her bottom, found the crack, 
and traced it down to her gaped open asshole. His stinkfinger burrowed, made 
her leap up and settle back slowly on the meat throbbing like a toothache at 
the depths of her sheath. His free hand captured one tit. He lowered his 
lips to the taut nipple. Encircling the bud with thumb and forefinger, he 
sucked the pinkness greedily into his mouth, said, "Tell old Uncle Steve 
what you want, honey. Say, 'Do it, .Uncle Steve. Fuck in and out of Debbie's 
pussy.' " 

"I want ... I ... I...." 

He lifted with the finger high in her chute, let her down again. She made 
the sound of a small injured bird. He lifted again, wanting to slam his cock 
furiously in and out of the tightness, to abuse her remaining innocence and 
make her cry out for more, but prolonging it now, wanting more to bend her 
completely to his will. "Say it," he prompted. "Say, 'I want you to fuck out 
my cunthole and shoot your hot cream up my little-girl belly.' " 

He watched the struggle in her eyes, the confusion on her flushed young 
face. She was still virgin enough to find the dirty words abhorrent; her 
mind hadn't yet caught up to her body, he could see. A small voice inside 
her said no! I won't say it. I won't! But her body, the velveteen sheath 
gripped his prick like a pro, the breast in his face, the fragrant brown 
pocket nipping his finger, all belonged to a woman whose gyrations said yes! 
Fuck me good! 

"But you're not ow! Owah, J-J-Jimmy's was-wasn't as long. Ummm! Oh! You ... 
you're n-not my uncle at all," she blubbered at last. "How ow-wow! H-how 
c-c-come I have to say all those awful things?" 

"Say it," demanded Steve. 

The girl thrashed. Her tiny hands gripped his broad shoulders, fingernails 
biting deep in his flesh. She leaned back from the waist, thrusted her 
lovely pink and white tits in his face. She mashed her hot little cunt down 
on the roots of his tool, breathed, "Fuck me, Uncle Steve. Fuck out ... oh! 
Ummm! F-fuck out my pussy an' shoot your cream up my bb-belly." 

"That's better," sighed Steve. "Now put your feet up on the arms of the 
chair. Knees high, sweetheart. Legs wide. As wide as they'll go. Old Uncle 
Steve's gonna show you what a real fuck is. Like nothin' you ever imagined. 
You'll be able to feel me, this-" he expanded and contracted the knob of his 
sex, made her yelp in delight-"my big prick, in your throat. At the top of 
your sweet fuckin' head even." 

Feverishly, Debbie followed his directions, raised first one foot than the 
other. Her trim legs formed a wide V that began at his shoulders and ended 
at the place where his hard-on protruded from her hot hairy hole. "L-like 
this?" 

"Christ, yeah. Perfect! Now fuck, honey. Wiggle your ass. Use your feet to 
lift up and come down. Up and down, up and down. Go!" 

Holding fast to his shoulders, Debbie performed the awkward gymnastic. She 
raised up, all the time watching the stiffness slip wetly from her 
delectable bush; then, just as Steve thought sure they would lose the 
connection, just as the rolled back skin at the neck of the glans of his 
manhood appeared, she dropped ... taking him smoothly back in to the hilt 
... moaning as her buttocks settled atop his muscular thighs once more. 

It was Steve's turn to gulp. The girl was a natural-a cunt that could drive 
a man crazy after only two screws. He wished he'd gotten back a day earlier; 
that he, not Jimmy whoever-he-was, had taken her cherry. He stared down at 
her kinky scruff. It wasn't quite wiry yet, still growing and almost as soft 
as the hair on her head. He watched her creamy thighs tremble; watched the 
round underside of her ass, the satiny buttocks, open and close in time with 
her nipping young pussy. He felt her feathery inner cunt muscles clamp tight 
on the tip of his tool, then loosen as she lifted again, then tighten as she 
came down. He groaned. He set his own hips in motion, swinging from side to 
side in the chair, slamming it to her each time she dropped. "Hold tight," 
he cautioned. "Keep ... ah! Christ, that's good. Yeah! Keep doin' just like 
you're doin', but hold on as if I'm a bronc and you're ridin' in a rodeo." 

Brutally, he drove his rod up her little-girl belly. Again he took hold of 
the halves of her ass, guiding her inexperienced movements, teaching her the 
art of dipping onto a cock. Momentarily he wondered where Lori was, if she 
was fucking. He wondered too how he was going to resolve the dilemma at 
home; if he would ever be able to convince Midge that fucking was something 
everyone did, every day, and that it didn't much matter who the fucking was 
done with ... what it had taken him almost a lifetime to learn. 

"It ... it feels as if liiiiiiiii...!" Debbie quivered from head to toe, 
squirmed sweetly in his lap. "As if I ... ummmmmmmm! Some ... ow! Ee! 
S-s-some-something's hap-happening, Steve. Ow! Inside. I ... ohhhHHHHHHHH! 
I'm on fire. In ... in my p-p-pussy. Wha ,...? oh! OW! Wha's hap-hap-pening 
to me-eee?" 

Motherfucker! thought Steve, dismissing all but the trembling girl from his 
mind. She was coming. He could feel it-in the hungry contractions of her 
tight little pussy, the bite of her cuntlips. It was incredible; she was 
coming and didn't know what the sensation meant. Jimmy whoever-he-was had 
taken her maidenhead, but had left the best part. Her first orgasm. The 
incomparable thrill of watching her face contort in utter surrender. Like 
with Betty. And with Lori the first time he planted cum in her mouth. And 
with Midge long ago. There was nothing more delicious than being the man who 
induced the thrill that would come again and again in her lifetime, but 
would never be quite the same as the first time. 

The mere thought made him pop prematurely. But on time for the girl. At the 
exact moment her cunthole went wild, locked tight on his prick and spewed 
gooey love juice down his fat hairy balls. 

Debbie yelled something garbled. Her head dropped, lolled from her neck. Her 
ass bounced erratically. "Fuck my pus-seee," she wailed. "Ugh! Fuck! Ugh! 
Fuck, fuck, fuck me, Steve. Oh. OHHHHHHHHHHHH!" 

He had no intention of stopping, he wanted to say. But the cumload had taken 
his breath, his voice. The exquisite thrill of another young gash, the 
conquest, the fact that he was the first to make her give of herself 
completely, was a hammer inside his chest, a nutcracker pinching his balls. 
Groaning, he fucked. He fucked for all he was worth, pissing gob after gob 
of thick semen up her hole. He had no intention of stopping, because he 
couldn't forget the sweet warmth of her mouth-where he would put his dick 
next, while he had her. And the bite of her hot little-girl asshole, where, 
if there was time, if there was enough gook left in his sacs after the 
initial entries were conquered, he intended to plant a third cumload before 
going home. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

Fall in the city was the best time of year. The oppressive summer heat was 
gone, and the trees, majestically shedding their hairdos of green, were the 
bright colors of the outfits the neighborhood girls wore to school. The sky 
too seemed different; dawn came later, and sunset, the time of day Steve 
liked best, arrived with reds that were warmer because of the breeze; with 
ambers that hung above the horizon, as if suspended from clouds that were 
white blankets hugging the onrushing night. 

The new job was a bore. After twenty years of the military, Steve simply 
couldn't adjust to the carefree, 9 to 5 lifestyle. Each day he came home 
from work restless, looking forward only to what new adventures Lori and her 
seemingly endless stream of hot little friends could supply. 

It was weeks after the evening with Debbie before he and Midge finally 
talked. She was at the sink when he stepped into the kitchen, bending 
forward, the hem of her dress high at the back of her thighs, waist 
accentuated. He paused at the door. At work there were willing secretaries, 
stenographers and comely girl Fridays the entire executive staff was getting 
to. Midge was private stock. He knew, although they hadn't been sleeping 
together much since they got back from vacation, although he'd been 
neglecting her because of Debbie, Lori, and the other minxes that ran in and 
out of the house, Midge was just prude enough to be saving it-as if she were 
a virgin and sex was something a girl did only with hubby. It was the one 
thing about her he adored; the fact that he was the only man ever to have 
sampled the golden fleece atop and between her still delectable thighs. 

"Who...?" Midge spun at the touch of his hand on the cheek of her ass. 

He pressed her back against the drain board, kissing her before she could 
speak. She didn't respond. He felt her tit. She merely submitted, as limp in 
his arms as the washcloth she held in her hand. "Supper is almos...." she 
began when the kiss ended. 

"Fuck supper," growled Steve, nuzzling her neck, trying to work her nipples 
hard with his fingers. "We haven't made love in a week. Let's go to bed. 
I'll eat you and you can eat me." 

Midge pushed him away. She moved from the sink to the table, busied herself 
with the place settings. She glanced warily up when he pursued, said, 
"Don't. I ... I don't want to. I ... you know why without me having to say 
it." She stared defiantly, daring him to deny the unspoken accusation. 

It was still there, a little brick wall named Lori. The girl had grown 
brazen since their return home, and he, wanting to console Midge, to carry 
through with his plan, but wanting the girl more, unable to conceal his 
desire, had let the wall grow. Now he was faced with the challenge of making 
it right. He moved slowly around the table, backed her into a corner. He was 
determined to get it out and settled once and for all. 

"No teenage girl friends today?" Midge spit, suddenly angrier than he had 
ever before seen her. Her chin trembled. Her hands became hard little fists 
at her sides. "Wait awhile," she added in a quivering voice. "Lori'll be 
home soon. Then you can ... you and she...." 

Steve gripped her shoulders. He studied her flushed face a moment, trying to 
decide the best line of attack. But he had already determined the strategy, 
he reminded himself. Surprise. Shock her into submission. It would hurt her 
at first, he knew, probably send her rushing off to her mother's place for a 
few days. But she would come back, he knew too. And once the ultimatum was 
there-either accept the unalterable or leave him for good-Midge would be rid 
of her self-righteous tears, the barriers would crumble, and there would be 
nothing but wondrous lovemaking; Midge and Lori and him, and whoever else 
they could entice into their communal bed. 

Again he pressed close, rubbed his limp cock suggestively against her soft 
thigh. "Stop acting like Lori's maiden aunt," he told her. "This is 1973, 
not twenty years ago when we were kids. Lori knows it. She told me! All the 
kids-Debbie, the others Lori brings home-are enjoying what we were too 
stupid to do at their age. Sex makes the world go round, Midge. Me and Lori 
... well, she's a lot like you were when we first met. So what if...." 

He paused, searching for the right words. But there was only one way to say 
it. Bluntly. Like a fist in the gut. Then he could take it from there, 
soothe the hurt. "So fucking what if she's sucking my cock!" he blurted. "It 
won't hurt 'er. She'll grow up and get married some day like it never 
happened, and no one's complaining 'cept you." Again he paused, gauging the 
flash of disgust in her eyes. She'd known all along, but having it put into 
words seemed to scald her, to leave her red-faced and stunned. "I know lots 
of guys who're banging their kids," he lied. "And lots more who'd like to. 
Al Watson for one. You think he don't look at Debbie? Well, do you? The only 
difference between me and the ones who only look is that I'm a man. I take 
what I want." 

Midge gasped from the hand that shot beneath the hem of the housedress to 
her crotch. She started to protest, shook her head, and clamped her lips 
shut. There was nothing to say-both of them knew it. Steve had changed: he 
was no longer the quiet, safe, one-woman man she'd been married to for so 
many years. Now it was her turn to choose. 

"Right now I want you, Midge," he continued, massaging her pussy with the 
palm of his hand. "You're still my wife, unless you want that to change too. 
If you don't, if you still love me, you'll just have to get used to things 
the way they are." He found the legband of the panties, fucked a finger up 
her hot cunt. His dick began to grow hard. It was funny, he thought-lately 
he surprised even himself. A mere few months ago he wouldn't have been 
capable of the speech he'd just made. 

Midge sobbed-half protest, half acceptance of what he was doing. She leaned 
back against the cool kitchen wall, arms limp at her sides, allowed him to 
dig deep in her pussy. Her eyes closed. Her hips jerked as he found her 
small clit, fingered it stiff. It had been a long time, a week, and although 
her mind was in obvious revolt against what he'd told her, her body needed a 
man, Steve could see. Her cunthole had no objections to him and Lori, him 
and Debbie, him and the others. What she would do afterward was anyone's 
guess, but for now her breathing grew shallow, her breasts heaved. For the 
moment her loins were willing to overlook all but the pole in his pantsleg. 

"We haven't done it like this in years." Steve lifted the hem of the dress, 
tucked it into the apron belt at her waist. "Standing up. Remember, honey? 
'Way back when we were first married, you thought I was nuts when I asked 
you to do it this way. We used to fuck all over the place ... in the shower 
... on the goddam floor. It was good then. Like it is with me and Lori when 
she sucks me off." Stinkfinger moving slowly in and out of her gash, wetting 
her, making her ready, he worked the panties down, bared her white-blonde 
wedge. It was still a precious sight, and almost as soft as Lori's 
little-girl scruff, almost as fragrant. 

"Steve." Midge raised her arms, clung to his neck. Her hips bucked again 
when his finger slipped out long enough for the panties to be pushed low on 
her thighs, then her cunthole accepted him back, greedily sucking the dart. 

Using his knee, Steve pushed the panties down past her dimpled knees. The 
nylon slithered of its own accord to her ankles. "Kick the fuckin' things 
off," he whispered against her moist lips. 

Midge obeyed. The panties went slithering across the floor, wrapped 
themselves around a chair leg. Whole she opened her legs, spread herself, he 
undid his fly, took out his long veiny rod. It throbbed in his hand. 
Standing up-Christ! He hadn't fucked anyone that way since one of the few 
times he'd cheated on Midge while stationed in Europe. In Paris, a 
raven-haired French girl. A pickup who had lured him into an alley, had held 
up her hand with five fingers splayed, naming the price, and then, once it 
was in, buried to the hilt up her midnight-black bush, had moaned sexy 
French words in his ear till he popped. He undid his belt, let the pants 
drop to his ankles. He pushed his shorts down, stepped out of the garments, 
and kicked them after the panties. Remembering how good the Parisian whore 
was, how good it had been with Midge through the first years of their 
marriage, he removed his wet fingers and set the bloated tip of his joint at 
her pulsing cunthole. 

Midge moaned. The sound came from deep within her-the sound of a woman 
giving herself completely to her man. Her hips jerked forward and down, 
drawing the red knob of his dick up her belly. She sat in the cradle 
provided by his hands, sucked air through her teeth as he began to hump the 
rest of it in. 

It had been worth waiting years for, thought Steve; her sheath was as hot as 
a furnace, and the awkward position made it tighter-as close as Debbie's 
sweet cunt. He gripped the plump, mature cheeks of her ass, mentally 
comparing the melons to Lori's and the Watson girl's. Each had a special 
quality, he decided. The young ones were firmer, less quivery, yet somehow 
softer, the cracks illicitly alluring. But there was more hair at Midge's 
pinched anus, the wispy stuff growing under her crotch and around into her 
pussy. And Midge's movements were more direct, more experienced. He couldn't 
decide which was best, didn't know if it mattered. He knew only that variety 
was great, and that Midge, despite her initial reluctance, was fucking like 
never before ... gyrating furiously ... gasping his name ... grinding 
herself, her white-blonde pussy, onto his rod. 

"Put your legs up," he directed. "At my ... umph!" His knees trembled, 
threatening to give from the delicious sensations racing through his loins. 
He planted his feet farther apart, leaned in to her. "At ... at my waist, 
babe. Like ... ah! UMMMmmmmmmmmmmm! Like we used to, 'way back when." 

One leg shot quickly into position. Wheezing, Midge chewed her lower lip, 
rested her weight full in his hands. Using the wall as a brace, she brought 
the other leg up, hooked her ankles, and purred softly as his cock slid 
farther up the livery folds of her nipping vagina. 

Steve kissed her. Driving his tongue into her mouth, he began to screw. 
In-out, in-out his dick slipped. The ass in his hands rocked rhythmically 
from side to side, round and round. Eagerly Midge sucked his tongue, as if 
expecting the cum to spurt there. As if, at that special moment, if he 
yanked his meat out and directed her to her knees, she'd give him the 
blowjob she had always denied him before. He lifted her hips, glanced down 
to watch the slippery length of hard meat pull back from her blonde pussy 
curls. He let her drop, groaned as the stiffness disappeared up her belly 
once more. The whole room seemed to shake with their gyrations, the house. 
He fucked faster. Harder. He mashed his mouth to hers, made her lips swell. 
He drove his rod in to the roots, pulled back to the glans, and fucked it, 
fucked it, fucked it into and out of and again into her sopping wet 
cunthole. 

They were too intent on the impending orgasm to hear the front hall door 
open and close, or the whisper of footsteps on the living room rug. Steve 
wouldn't have heard an elephant enter the kitchen, and Midge was breathing 
so loudly, so laboriously, that the elephant might have trumpeted without 
recognition. The first hint of an unwanted audience was the giggle that fell 
like the tinkle of bells on Steve's ear. 

"Boy!" exclaimed Lori. She eyed her mother speculatively, grinned. "You 
don't do it much, Mom, but when you do you sure don't fucking fool around." 

Midge gurgled something unintelligible. Her face went lobster red. Her legs 
dropped from Steve's waist. Before he could utter a word, she was off him, 
standing, frantically straightening her dress, hiding her shame. 

"You forgot something." Lori pointed to the panties wrapped around the chair 
leg. 

Steve laughed, disappointed by the interruption, but glad it was out at 
last. The family triangle; mother and daughter at odds because both wanted 
the thing standing straight out from his cockhair. He watched Midge start 
for the archway where Lori stood, stop. She looked from the girl to him. She 
sobbed. Then she ran to the outside kitchen door, threw it open and rushed 
out of the house. 

"What the fuck...?" Steve snatched his pants off the floor, thrust one leg 
in and was lifting the other when an engine roared in the drive. By the time 
he got to the door, Midge was backing the car onto the street. He called. 
She glanced back once, set the car in gear, and was gone. 

Innocently, Lori asked, "Did my coming in cause all that, Daddy?" 

Steve faced her, scratched his head. Lori was grinning uncertainly now, her 
gaze on the rapidly diminishing thing protruding from the open fly of his 
pants. Midge was off to her mother's place, he knew. Either there or the 
deserted summer home. He couldn't make himself feel upset over her sudden 
departure. He hadn't planned it exactly this way, but it was done, the truth 
out for an airing, the three of them face to face with sex. The problem 
would either work itself out or blow up in his face. 

But there was a more immediate problem which needed solving. It had to do 
with the cool air shrinking his rod like an overcooked hot dog. His nuts 
still ached, the cumload hovering somewhere between the wrinkled 
contraptions and the roots of his smoldering tool. He closed the door, 
returned to the table. He eyed the skirt Lori was wearing. The hem, barely 
reaching the top of her thighs, was more enticing than nakedness. He looked 
into her face, at her pink mouth. "I told your mother about us," he said 
gruffly. 

The girl set her school books down on the table, stepped close. "Then why'd 
she run when I came in?" 

He shrugged. "Who fucking knows why women're women? Especially you and your 
mother. I told her she'd have to get used to the idea-me, you, and her or 
nothing. Now we'll just have to wait and see what happens, what she does." 

Lori cocked her head, stared thoughtfully at the panties lying forlornly on 
the tile floor. She squeezed her knees tightly together. Her hand shot 
forward, clutched his wet limpish prick. "Know what, Daddy?" she whispered. 

Steve pulled her into his arms, looked longingly at the spot where Midge had 
stood propped against the wall moments before. "What's on your mind, baby? " 

"I never did it standing up." 

"No?" His heart leaped. 

"Uh-uh. An' you never, ever did it to me, the right way. Up ... up here!" 
She took hold of his wrist, steered his hand to the pussy he had seen and 
touched, sniffed and licked, eaten and fingered, but had been reluctant to 
plow. 

He felt her small hand on his cock, jerking it back to its former state of 
arousal. He felt the springy curls beneath her panties, the dampness and 
heat where the nylon was sunk in her slit. His reluctance seemed suddenly 
silly-incest meant nothing. He wanted her cunt; he wanted to stand her in 
the same spot where Midge had stood, take her in the same way. Compare. 
Watch her white-blonde daughter-pussy come down the length of his insatiable 
tool. 

"Daddy?" 

She didn't have to say more. Their problem was solved; Lori had never had 
any compunctions about doing whatever kinky sex thing he desired, and now he 
felt the same. Midge was the only one with a problem to solve. Later they 
would talk about that-him and Lori. Now there was time only for the hot cunt 
grinding itself onto his fingers. 

 CHAPTER NINE 

Steve began to worry when, by the end of the week, Midge hadn't returned, 
hadn't called. He stared at the phone, as if by sheer will he could make the 
thing ring. But he had stared at it most of the night and now it was 
morning, Saturday, and Lori and Debbie had talked him into a surprise party 
for Peggy, a friend who, to hear the girls tell it, came from a family too 
poor to be able to afford a birthday cake. Steve stretched. "How the fuck 
can a guy refuse something like that?" he grumbled. 

He lit a cigarette, coughed, inhaled again and fell back onto the pillows. 
Lori had said Peggy was voted "the prettiest girl in class" the previous 
year, that she was blonde, hair the color of straw, and that sixteen was a 
girl's special time. He had to agree. Midge had been exactly sixteen when 
they met. It was the time when a girl began to see herself as a woman, he 
knew, the time when she began to look out at the world, at men, with the 
eyes of a potential mate. Older women screwed for the enjoyment, or to make 
babies, and younger women primarily to satisfy their female curiosity. But 
at sixteen girls fucked because everything-their bodies, their minds, the 
sex orientated culture that pretended to worship virginity and taunted them 
with what was in store when they met the right man-urged them to become what 
nature had designed them to be. A cunt. The second half of a team. The 
receptacle for the thick cream in a stiff cock. 

He lay smoking and thinking until Lori came in. They exchanged grins. He 
watched her saunter barefoot across the room, flop beside him on the bed on 
her tummy. The shorty pajama top bunched at her waist. She had discarded the 
pajama bottoms the night Midge left, and now, with him sporting the usual 
piss-hard-on, her cute pink ass, the cleft more alluring than ever, lay a 
whisper away from his fingers. 

"I've got it all planned," she informed him, chin propped in her hands and a 
sober expression on her freshly washed face. "We'll tell Peggy we're coming 
here to do our homework for Monday, and then, when we come in-" she paused 
to scratch the hair low on her belly, made a face that said ouch! "You'll 
have the lights out, Daddy, and the rest of the kids'll be waiting. And when 
we come in you'll turn the lights on and the gang'll yell surprise!" She 
rolled gleefully onto her back, raised one knee and threw her arms wide. 
"Boy! I'll bet Peggy'll absolutely flip!" 

Steve eyed her blonde wedge. He was about to "flip" himself. "Does she, ah 
... I Does your girl friend Peggy fuck much?" 

"Daddy!" Lori stared reprehensibly back over her sleep-muddled hair at him. 
Then she giggled, rolled onto her belly again and cuddled close. 

He listened intently as she told about the few boys Peggy had dated, but 
admitted that none of the girls-not her, not Debbie, not no one-knew if the 
sixteen-year-old put out. Peggy was shy, she said. Although sweet to 
everyone, the girl was a loner because all her friends could afford new 
dresses while she had to wear the same old things day after day. It made 
Steve feel almost rotten about what he was thinking; perhaps he'd buy poor 
little Peggy a new dress, present it to her in the bedroom, and suggest she 
try it on. It was the least he could do, and his dick grew harder the more 
he thought about it. 

"Uh-uh. Not this morning," objected Lori when his hand came down on her 
plump ass. She twisted away, leaped from the bed and ran to the door in a 
flash. She stopped with one hand high on the jamb, the light from the living 
room windows outlining her figure beneath the flimsy pajama top. 

"Come back here," he growled. 

She stuck her tongue out. "I have to get dressed, then go buy the stuff for 
the party and get all the kids together." She started to leave, stopped 
again. "I been thinking, Daddy," she added, the sober expression back on her 
baby-doll face. "I used to be jealous-about you and Debbie 'n' all. No more, 
though. I figure if I can do it with whoever I want, so can you." She smiled 
her sweetest smile, waved, then was gone down the hall. 

Steve coughed, crushed out his cigarette and lit another. He was a lucky 
guy, he mused. Lori was perfect-in bed, and now in her reasonable outlook. 
Both of them had come a long way since the night she fell asleep on the sofa 
at the summer home, and he, all the time reprimanding himself for his 
incestuous desire, first felt the heat of her pussy, and grazed the soft 
lips of her cunt with the tip of his cock. 

He sighed. He still had to piss. But he remembered another morning, the 
first time with Lyn Anderson, when he fucked for over an hour with a swollen 
bladder and would have continued through most of the day if they hadn't 
heard Stu's car crunching into the sand-pebble drive. 

He settled back into the pillows, content to wile away the morning with sexy 
imaginings of the surprise birthday party; a houseful of young cunt. But he 
wished Midge were there too; he wished she could think as rationally as Lori 
and would come back from wherever in hell she'd gone to hide from the 
unalterable truth. 

By the time the kids arrived-Lori and Debbie, six other girls and eight 
pimply-faced boys-and Rudy agreed to chauffeur the escort to the place where 
Peggy was waiting, Steve had put Midge from his mind and was concentrating 
on the business at hand. He felt awkward, almost old, watching the noisy 
teenagers grind through their tribal dances, but there were two in the bunch 
whom he "knew" and who made it a point to shake their stuff his way. He sat 
at the edge of the sofa, sipping beer, his gaze leaping from one saucy rump 
to another, wondering when the kissing games were going to start and hoping 
Peggy what's-her-name arrived without a boy to keep her warm when things 
really got going. 

It was night when the goose-horn on Rudy's hot rod finally blasted, and the 
kids, already coached by Lori, doused the lights, took up assigned 
positions, and hissed shhhhh! He heard the car brake at the curb in front of 
the house, the souped-up engine roar before dying. He moved to the light 
switch at the door. 

"Hi, Steve." A hand gently brushed his limp cock. 

"Jesus! Who're you?" He reached out in the dark, felt a small tit, heard a 
muted giggle. Ginny, the brunette with a cunt as big as a sewer, but with a 
greedy mouth to make up for the deficit. She had somehow gotten away from 
the boy who, while they danced, had made no secret of their intimate 
relationship. Now Steve's hands took the tour ... feeling up and down ... 
reacquainting himself with the willing terrain. 

The door burst suddenly open, the three conspirators and the birthday girl 
forming silhouettes framed by moonlight. Steve had only a moment to look 
Peggy up and down before the kids, in one deafening voice, yelled surprise! 

The living room became a tangle of noisy confusion, the lights and stereo 
coming on, those at the door pushing Peggy into the waiting arms of her 
friends. It was pleasant. So much so Steve forgot about sex for a moment and 
enjoyed the look of astonishment in the girl's huge blue eyes. Until one of 
the boys took advantage of the crowd to rub himself, his pants front, 
against Peggy's ass, and the birthday girl smiled uncertainly back at him. 

"Let's get the party going," one of the youngsters suggested impatiently. 
"Cut the cake." 

"Naw!" objected the boy who had gotten the cheap thrill. "You don't cut the 
cake 'til later. Now we...." 

The others whisked the girl away, to where the presents were stacked atop an 
end table, and Peggy spent the next ten minutes saying oh and ah and 
thanking the group. Then the dancing resumed, one couple at a time, until 
the birthday girl stood alone ... smiling uncertainly at the tribal 
gyrations ... tall ... willowy ... happy but obviously uneasy. 

Kids! thought Steve. Even Lori had all but forgotten her friends, was 
intently wiggling her hips and flailing her arms to the music. Quickly he 
crossed the room, indignant over the way the others were acting, and using 
his indignation, pretended parental concern, to get close enough to see for 
himself if Peggy really ,,as the prettiest girl in the class. He was halfway 
there when he decided she was. The prettiest and more. Shy and lovely, 
dressed in an outfit that was indeed out of style, but which she made bulge 
in all the right places. And legs! Long, long tapering legs. Legs he could 
almost feel locked tight at his waist. 

"I haven't given you my present yet," he said, envisioning the neatly 
wrapped box at the foot of the bed in the room down the hall. 

"But you ... you don't even know me," objected the girl in a musical voice-a 
sound that made Steve want to crush her to him. 

"That's easy enough." He took her hand. "I'm Lori's old man, Steve. And 
you're Peggy. Now, do I get to kiss you happy birthday like everyone else?" 
Before she could open her mouth to object or agree, he leaned close, touched 
his lips gently to hers. 

Peggy blushed. The blouse she wore was open to the second button. She 
stepped back when she saw he was looking, raised her free hand to the 
breach. The flush on her face spread to her slender neck, her ears. It made 
her long golden hair seem even brighter; not the color of straw, as Lori had 
said, more like the yellow flame of fire. But it was too early to give her 
the gift and what he had planned to go with it, Steve could see. The others 
kids weren't subdued yet; hadn't yet begun tapping the beer supply in the 
kitchen. And Peggy would need more persuading than the others, he could see, 
too. 

"Would you like something? A sandwich? The cake?" 

"I ... I ate something before...." 

He grinned, held up his hand. "Leave it to me. Lori'll tell you-I'm one of 
the gang aroun' here." 

Reluctantly, he released her long slender fingers, strode across the room to 
the kitchen. He was back in a moment with two cans of cold beer. The others 
watched him pass, the boys greedily licking their lips, the girls, those he 
hadn't bedded, cocking their heads curiously. Lori winked. Debbie crinkled 
her nose. "Okay. Okay already!" he shouted, certain Peggy wouldn't touch the 
stuff unless the others were drinking. "But only one can apiece. One!" 

Peggy's uncertain smile grew more so. But she accepted the can, sipped 
politely and thanked him. They stood watching the kids race into the kitchen 
and back, the looks on their faces saying at last! A parent who really 
understood, someone who was on their side. 

The beer cans never seemed to empty. Amused, recalling his own youth and 
similar tricks, Steve pretended not to see the two boys designated to sneak 
into the kitchen for refills each time a girl reached bottom. The music grew 
louder. Laughter, too. Then the lights began to go out-the large, overhead 
fixture first, then the lamps, one by one, until only two dim night lights 
remained at either end of the wide room, and the kids, coupled off now, only 
two couples still dancing--as a diversion, he wondered, designed to keep his 
prying eyes off the others who were finding dark corners to neck in. 

He turned to Peggy, stared, intimidating her. Nervously, she tilted the can 
to her unpainted lips, drained the contents and hiccoughed. "Oh! I ... I 
d-don't drink much," she apologized softly. 

Steve laughed, enchanted. He took the empty can and shoved his almost full 
one into her hand. Where was it he'd read about warm beer being more potent? 
She didn't need very much more, he could see, already she was swaying 
slightly on her high heels, eyes blinking, glazed. "C'mon." he said 
teasingly, wanting to grab and kiss her, to feel the tits he'd seen from 
above, the creamy melons bursting from the neck of the blouse, but holding 
off, waiting for the right moment. "How often do you turn sixteen? Besides, 
I want you to be braced when you see the present I got you." 

Again the girl drank, deeper this time, as if beginning to enjoy the taste 
of the beer. She looked over the rim of the can, giggled. 

Steve was delighted. It was the first sign of relaxation, the first 
indication that the girl would soon be putty in his hands. His dick began to 
get hard-partially from anticipation, but mostly because of what was 
happening in the dark around them. He could see Debbie in the armchair 
across the room. Apparently she liked it best astraddle a chair, the way he 
had put it to her at the Watson place. The boy hadn't yet gotten it in, was 
busy rubbing her crotch, whispering to her, kissing her, but it was only a 
matter of minutes until they'd be fucking. He pointed, drawing Peggy's 
attention to the pair. It was time. He had made up his mind to see if the 
birthday girl was the prettiest all over. 

"Drink up, sweetheart. One more swallow." He waited for her to comply, gulp 
what was left from the can. He took the empty, set it down beside the gifts 
on the end table. He took her hand, nodded toward Debbie. "We're in the way 
out here. Let's go see what old Uncle Steve got you for your birthday." 

The light in the bedroom was harsh after the dark living room, and the 
wrapping on the box at the foot of the bed shone like a Christmas tree. He 
led the girl to it, winked when she blinked questioningly up at him. He 
helped her undo the ribbon, throw off the cardboard top and push back the 
tissue inside. Peggy gulped, ran her hands lovingly over the new dress, the 
heels, the purse. 

"A whole outfit," said Steve, standing close, his cock coming up hard near 
her upthrust behind. "I got your sizes from Lori. Look underneath ... a bra 
... panties. I got you the god-damndest silk drawers you ever saw." 

He watched her lift the black undergarment from beneath the folds of the 
knit minidress, hold it up to the light. He watched the blush return to her 
face, this time mingled with feminine wonder, the irresistible urge to try 
the things on, feel the newness close to her skin, clinging luxuriously to 
her most secret parts. It was the way Midge reacted whenever he bought her 
some personal item, some female flimsiness. He touched the girl's hip. "Go 
on," he breathed close to her ear. "Try 'em on. Everything. I-" he almost 
laughed-"I promise I won't look." 

"I ... hic! Oh! I d-don't know if ... if I should!" 

"You want to, don't you?" 

"Um!" 

"Then do it. You're sixteen, a woman. You deserve something nice." He turned 
away, heart thumping, walked to the dresser at the far side of the bed and 
pretended to busy himself with Midge's trinkets. He watched her through the 
mirror, saw her hesitate, look from him to the presents. It was rotten of 
him to tempt her like this, he knew. But rottenness was part of it all; 
breaking down the natural female defenses. Then it got good. Good for both 
the man and the woman. Fucking good! 

He watched Peggy sway, heard her hiccough again. He watched her fingers move 
tentatively to the buttons down the front of the blouse, then, slowly at 
first but faster as each garment fell open, she dropped the blouse, let the 
skirt fall, pushed the frilly half-slip down her legs and stepped free of 
the outer garments. 

Steve groaned, clutched his cock. It throbbed like a tom-tom. In panties and 
bra, the girl was exquisite-white and pink and soft blonde, with shoulders 
so fragile and creamy, buttocks so round and deep-clefted, legs so long-all 
the way from the floor to her magnificent young ass, he thought. To the hair 
on her hot teenage cunt-he thought sure he'd come in his pants. He watched 
her struggle with the snaps high on her back, almost fall onto the bed. He 
turned, moved swiftly to her. "Let Uncle Steve help," he offered in a 
gravelly voice. "That's what I'm here for. To make things nice. Easy." 

"No, I ... I...." 

He had the snaps open, was easing the bra from her arms before she could 
complete the sentence. Her white, big pink-nippled breasts tumbled from the 
cups, hung away from, her chest. She raised her hands to cover the 
delectable globes. "No. Don't hide 'em from me," he croaked. "Christ all 
fuckin' mighty, they're too sweet to hide. Jesus!" 

"D-d-don't!" Peggy tried to brush his hands away. But the alcohol had taken 
affect, her movements were slow. His arms were around her, pressing her ass 
to the bulge of his prick, fingers working her nipples even before the 
protest was out of her mouth. 

"Happy birthday, baby." 

"NOOOoooo!" The girl's hips pumped back into his rod. "You ... ah ... ahhh. 
You said ... y-y-you promised you wo-wouldn't look at meeeee. You did, you 
... ummmmmmmmmmm! Ah! Ow! My titties. Stop. Oh! OHHH!" 

Steve kissed the back of her neck, her ear, drank deep of the clean fresh 
smell of her hair. His joint felt petrified. Rock-hard. Slowly he gyrated 
his loins, grinding the bloated length in the hot split up her backside. He 
swayed with her in time to the silent music of sex, the inner chords of her 
ripe young body fraying his nerve ends, communicating with the cumload deep 
in his balls. Was she cherry, he wondered, recalling what Lori had said. A 
cunthole that had never been pried open by the bludgeoning knob of a cock? 
Brand-new pussy? 

He moved one hand to her belly, rubbed. His fingertips grazed the mass of 
curls crowning her womanhood. The girl shivered. He rubbed harder, working 
her nipple still, panting into her ear until she flung her head back on his 
shoulder and began to moan. 

"Lori tells me you don't like boys," he breathed against the nape of her 
neck. 

Peggy looked back at him with wide, hazy blue eyes. Her belly went tight, 
emphasizing the roundness as his fingertips moved lower, the palm of his 
hand cupped at her bush-a mere whisper away from the indentation where the 
panties were sunk in her wet cuntlips. "I ... I like boys," she said in a 
voice as soft as a midsummer night breeze. "I do." 

The blood pounded inside his head, at his groin. He moved his thumb to her 
navel, hooked it at the waistband of the panties, and inched the elastic 
down. "And dicks!" he told her, sure of himself now, sure of her. "Tell me, 
honey. Tell your old Uncle Steve how much you like big veiny pricks fucking 
in and out of your pussy." 

Peggy turned in his arms, stumbled as one high heel tipped and threw her off 
balance. Steve caught her by the cheeks of the ass, lifted, and pressed her 
to the enraged bulge in his pantsleg. Suddenly the girl was a tigress, arms 
locked at his neck, breath hot and sweet in his face, taut belly and hips 
and fat teenage pussy grinding sensuously against his hard dick, dry-fucking 
him. He should have known, Steve thought. It was always the shy ones, the 
ones who pretended to be proper and prime, reserved, cool, who were the best 
screws. The hottest. The wildest. He kissed her moist pouting lips, dug his 
fingers deep in the jiggly flesh of her ass, and pressed her back, back, 
until they lay over the foot of the bed, the giftbox crumpled beneath them, 
the girl's wide hips churning like a cement mixer. 

He tore at the panties, ripped them from her bucking loins. The girl's legs 
gaped for his fingers. He searched through her wedge for the livery slit, 
found it, and shoved his stinkfinger in to the last knuckle, sinking deep 
into her. 

Peggy twisted her lips away from his mouth, gasped, "Ohah! Oh! Oh. OWWWWWW!" 
Her ass shot up off the bed, cunthole sucking, milking his finger as if it 
were a small skinny cock about to explode. 

And his cock was indeed about to explode, to burst through the links of the 
zipper at his fly. He had been anticipating Peggy all day; scheming, 
devising elaborate ploys to get her to fuck. And there she was beneath him 
... taking the initiative ... reaching for the brass tong at the top of the 
zipper without having to be told. He raised up on outstretched arms to watch 
her slim fingers release him. His gaze fell on her wedge: thick blonde pussy 
curls, not quite as bright as the hair on her head, more brown, but with 
shiny gold ringlets scattered throughout. A pussy that was at once 
honey-colored and platinum, with whipped cream beneath, and the fleshy pink 
of ripe fruit where the mound dipped to the puffy gates to her inner vagina. 

"Ah! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He fucked his stiff cock into the cool palm of 
her hand, shoved his finger so deep in her .cunt-hole the girl whined and 
wiggled back on the bed-not to escape, but to give him room. To get the 
crushed giftbox out from under her succulent ass. 

Outside the bedroom, the kids began to chant and clap in time to an acid 
rock record someone had placed on the turntable. It was subtle at first, but 
soon grew loud, intense. As if one. of the girls-which one? Steve tried to 
guess-had grown bold, was stripping, the others the others egging her on. He 
listened, envisioning the scene while watching Peggy purse her pink lips as 
she stared as if mesmerized at the throbbing shaft in her hand. He drove his 
finger in and out of her vulva, slopping her up, pushing her toward the 
brink of orgasm, while he considered for the hundredth time the orgy that 
hadn't materialized. Why hadn't he thought of it before, he wondered now. 
The party! The perfect setting! A houseful of young cunt, with four in the 
living room who had felt the stab of his meat. 

But for the moment there was a fifth cunt snapping beneath him, demanding 
attention, he reminded himself. And a mouth, a tongue that was like a small 
snake licking lips that were soft and warm and natural-pink without makeup. 
He could almost see her flushed lovely young face coming down on the knob of 
his rod, drawing him in, in. He kissed her again, took hold of her clit and 
worked it in time to the music from the living room and the hand whacking 
him off ... everything synchronized ... a non-rehearsed smash. 

Peggy didn't resist when, gripping the tender halves of her ass, he shimmied 
around so they lay full length on the mattress, the crumpled box out from 
beneath them. Nor did she protest when he broke the kiss, and said, "The 
best part of your birthday present is yet to come, sweetheart. I been savin' 
it for you all fuckin' day." 

He licked down her neck, down between her quivering, big-nippled breasts, to 
the tiny button in her round white belly. She shuddered when his tongue 
washed the lint from the pocket, and again started down, wetting the almost 
invisible blonde fuzz that covered her lower abdomen, led to her bush. The 
girl squirmed like an eel. He grinned, licked lower still. He paused at the 
top of the V, sniffed. It was his turn to squirm. He inched down, savoring 
the stink which grew stronger as he neared the hot hairy breach between her 
magnificent thighs. Then he was there. Suddenly. Hungrily. Mouth open over 
her juicy cunthole, blowing air into the sopping wet folds of her sex. 

He wondered if she had ever felt the stab of a dick in her face, what she 
would do when he twisted around for the union of lips to crotch, lips to 
crotch. But she'd said she liked boys. He interpreted that to mean she liked 
sucking, too. Most of them did-the young ones. Sixteen, he groaned mentally. 
It was the time when a girl was willing to try almost anything. Not like 
Midge, who thought mouthing a prick was as awful as eating a turd. 

He licked Peggy's pinched asshole, tasted the sour tang of her shit. Christ! 
He'd eat even that, he decided. He'd suck out her bowels for a taste of her 
twat, and to get her to blow him. He lapped both tiny ports until the girl 
stiffened, arched her spine, reaching for orgasm. Then he stopped and waited 
for her reaction. 

"Ohah, Steve. Steve!" Peggy strained upward. Again she reached for his cock. 

Steve pulled back, flung his legs around toward the head of the bed. "Not 
with your hand, sweetheart. Your mouth! A suck for a suck. Sixty-nine." He 
shoved his finger back up her cunt-hole to keep the orgasm building, to make 
certain she wouldn't resist. 

"Oh, Hove it this way!" 

Steve yelped in delight as the girl's moist lips closed willingly on the 
knob of his prick. "Motherfucker. Mother. MO-ther! And all the time I 
thought you were ... ah! A HHHHHHH! I thought you were fuckin' shy! Jesus! 
All cunts should be shy like you about sucking a cock." Rolling, 
spread-eagling her on the bed, him atop, he cupped his hands at the insides 
of her thighs, spread her wide. He glued his mouth to her wet sweetness once 
more. 

The girl sucked with the force of a pump draining a hose. Almost before he 
was planted, rod deep in her face, the cumload was jacking up from his 
turbulent balls. He made her slow down, then he lay flat, weight full in her 
face, letting her gurgle on the red tip but refusing to shaft when she urged 
his hips up. Loudly he sucked her wet cunthole. He heard the gurgling become 
a series of grunts, then a long moan. Again her spine arched. This time he 
tongued her small clit, made it twang. She gasped on the glans of his tool, 
mashed her pussy into his face and spurted love lubricants from the gash he 
was sucking. 

He was about to pop off himself when some-one knocked at the door. "Oh, ta' 
it ou'," mumbled Peggy on the pulsing meat in her mouth. 

But he wasn't about to stop now, no matter who came in. In fact, he was glad 
someone had knocked. The music in the next room had grown loud, the beat 
frantic. But the chanting and clapping had stopped, as if whoever had been 
stripping-somehow he knew it was that; a cock-teaser, doing her thing for 
the roomful of boys, had reached the finale, and now, with nothing left to 
take off, was taking the boys on. Still sucking, letting his rod bask for 
the moment in the warmth of Peggy's small mouth, he watched the door 
open-watched Lori, his wonderful Lori, step into the bedroom with Rudy in 
tow. He should have known. No one but Lori would have gumption enough to 
strip for the kids. 

"Holy shit!" blurted Rudy. 

Lori giggled. She eyed the scene as if it were an everyday household 
occurrence. But her pussy was swollen, Steve could see, fat and sassy, ready 
to swab a stiff prick. He watched her close the door and tug the astounded 
Rudy to the side of the bed. 

Unable to escape the dick in her face, Peggy looked shamefully away. There 
was an awkward moment when Steve thought sure both she and the boy were 
going to faint. Then Lori said, "Boy, Peg, that sure looks like fun. Lemme 
help. Daddy has no sense at all once he gets going." 

The mattress shifted as Lori came aboard. On her knees, arms stroking the 
air for balance, she waddled to the head of the bed. She sighed 
satisfaction. There was a moment of nothing, Steve staring at Rudy as if the 
boy were supposed to call the next play. Then he felt miniature hands 
tugging at his hips, prompting him up. "What the fuck?" 

"You're strangling her, Daddy," accused Lori. Peggy gurgled in agreement. 
"Lift your dumb ass already." 

"Holy shit!" Rudy reiterated. 

Lori rolled her eyes at the boy, called him an asshole. Peggy raised her 
knees at either side of Steve's head, began to breathe again. Rudy sat 
tentatively at the edge of the bed, reached for Peggy's left tit, and yanked 
his hand away as if burnt when he grazed the stiff rod pulling out of the 
girl's lovely face. 

"For crying out loud!" Lori scolded. 

It would have been funny, thought Steve. If it had happened at another time 
or to someone else. If he didn't have his prick in a mouth, and if his balls 
weren't about to shoot cream all over the place. He lifted, allowing Lori to 
guide his hips. He groaned, the sweetness of Peggy's lips turning out along 
the length of his stiffness making his senses whirl. It wasn't exactly an 
orgy. But he was almost forty, middle-aged, and this was the very first time 
in his life two cunts had shared his bed at the same time. He buried his 
nose, his mouth and chin, his tongue, in the dual splits and silky blonde 
hair between Peggy's gaped thighs, sucked ravenously. 

"Um. That's better, Daddy." Lori bent to inspect her handiwork. Intently she 
watched his long cock disappear down Peggy's throat, pull back, shift with 
the swing of his hips and fuck deep once more. She bent closer still. "Oh, 
Daddy, that's nice. Yummy!" Mouth hanging open, curious green eyes a mere 
inch from the action, she breathed hot on his agitated balls. 

"Arah-ah-ah-ahhhhumph!" Steve thought sure he'd die with delight when his 
daughter's pink little-girl tongue lashed out, flicked his sphincters. Peggy 
too seemed to feel the giddy sensation. Again the walls of her mouth began 
to cling like barnacles to the hull of a ship, sucking eagerly, noisily, 
drawing from deep in her throat-mouthing his prick as she had done before 
Lori and Rudy came in. Four small satiny hands vied to fondle his swinging 
nuts. Ten tiny fingers roamed through his cockhair, over his ass, in the 
smelly crack. Two little mouths sucked and washed and licked him toward the 
white flame of orgasm. 

The mattress shifted again, Rudy finally climbing aboard. He followed Lori's 
example, waddled on his knees to the head of the bed and came up behind the 
girl. Swiftly he whipped out his miniature pole before her. 

"What're you doin' now?" demanded Lori, annoyed. She craned her neck to look 
back at the impulsive boy. 

"Getting ready to fuck your cunt!" Rudy replied. 

"Oh." Lori spread her knees wide apart on the bedding, bent forward. She 
turned her attention back to the shaft dipping smoothly in and out of 
Peggy's lovely young face, ran her hands lovingly over her father's big 
bucking ass. 

Steve blubbered incoherently. It was like watching an upside-down smoker. He 
could see himself plowing, see Lori's chin and pink, licking tongue each 
time his loins rose. He pulled back, raised his hips until the meat dagger 
almost popped from its moist scabbard, let his gaze travel slowly up Peggy's 
willowy body-past cunthair and belly, big-nippled breasts and 
pleasure-contorted features-to Lori, her tits dangling topsy-turvy between 
his legs, and down the length of her jackknifed body to the small, knobby 
prick nuzzling its way into her white-blonde pussy. His nuts swelled. His 
joint tingled. Groaning, every nerve in his lower abdomen prompting the 
final lunge, the jab that would release the overdue cumload, he shot his 
hips down. 

Peggy gulped. Her fingers closed tight on his sacs. Rudy yelped. "Holy 
shit!" and fucked his rod in short eager thrusts up Lori's little round 
belly. 

"Suck it," cried Steve, the cum spurting. He held at the hilt, lapping the 
flowing juice from Peggy's hot cunthole and ground the roots of his cock and 
his coarse pubic hair into the girl's eager mouth. "Drink it, baby, Yeah. 
Ah! Oh, Jesus! UMMM! Suck it all, sweetheart. Eat my prick. UM! Ar! 
Ar-ahhhHHHHH!" 

Peggy's ass rose high off the bedding, the gook pouring off in her face, 
triggering another orgasm in her birthday-girl pussy. Loudly she swallowed, 
moaning each time another thick gob shot into her gullet. She worked her 
throat muscles on the knob of Steve's pissing tool ... milking ... demanding 
more. 

Steve heard whispers, a giggle. The noise broke slowly through the sighs and 
moans of their lovemaking. Still coming, still unable to breathe because of 
the thrill gripping his loins, the smell of Peggy's wet gash, the sight of 
Lori being fucked from behind, he glanced toward the door. Debbie had 
entered the room. She and the boy from the armchair stood staring wondrously 
at the bed-the boy's hand sunk deep in the split up the ass of her jeans, 
his cock standing straight out in his pants. 

"Oh, Ru-deee. Ow! Ummm, do it. Fuck me good." Lori leaned farther forward, 
glued her mouth to the winking eye of her father's ass. 

Rudy panted, took firm hold of her hips, and began to drive in and out. The 
two at the door moved to the side of the bed. Steve didn't know .where to 
look first. He wanted them all-Lori, Peggy and Debbie. His dick was still 
spitting and the cunt in his face was, for the moment, the sweetest he'd 
ever lapped. But he rolled, popping the slippery shaft impulsively from 
Peggy's mouth, the last gobs of cream spurting off on her brow, in her hair. 
He grabbed Debbie's small hand, yanked her away from the boy and onto the 
pile of warm, gyrating bodies. 

There was no need to talk; the boy at the side of the bed fell greedily upon 
Peggy, and she-cunthole nipping in search of the tongue that had been taken 
away-spread her trim legs even wider, trying to take the bulge at his fly 
... pants and all. On elbows and knees, Lori matched the furious tempo of 
the dick swabbing her tight white-blonde pussy. And Debbie, by now used to 
being ripped off wherever and whenever Steve pleased, sucked in her tummy 
when his hand sought the button and zipper at the front of her jeans; buried 
her face at his neck and whimpered when he pushed the outer and under 
garments down, off; moaned when he rolled her atop him, found her lush 
little slit from behind, and fucked his stinkfinger in, in-to the hilt up 
her cunthole. 

How many times could a man come in one night, wondered Steve. There was cunt 
all around him; three shades of little-girl pussy hair, three succulent 
little-girl asses, and three pairs of pink and white tits. 

He glanced at his daughter, watched her screw. He listened to her soft 
buttocks slap back into Rudy's pumping loins ... the grunts each time Rudy 
lunged ... the little-girl whimpers and sighs. He looked from there to the 
minx at his side, watched the new boy-Jimmy what's-his-name? The one who had 
taken Debbie's cherry in the front seat of a car?-whip out his rod, bigger 
than Rudy's miniature dipstick, but not nearly as long, as veiny and fat 
around, as the one Debbie now held in her cool hand, and nervously, so eager 
he trembled, plant the fat tip in Peggy's wet, honey and sunshine-bright 
bush. 

He groaned. "Jesus, put the fuckin' thing in for me," he told Debbie. 
"Quick! Shove it ... ah!" His hips bucked in time to the rod being planted 
in the girl at his side. "Shove the fuckin' thing up before I come again all 
over the place, Debbie. Now!" 

Without hesitation, the girl spread her smooth creamy legs astraddled his 
thighs, steered the pulsing knob of his prick to the hot hairy hole in her 
pussy. "Ha-ha-hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," she breathed, fucking herself onto 
the monster, drawing like a vacuum from within, taking him high in her 
belly. 

"Now screw," ordered Steve. "Wiggle. Fuck that sweet ass up and down." 

The bedsprings began to squeak as he threw his hips up to meet her. It was 
as if he hadn't come only moments ago; as if he hadn't come in a lifetime. 
His dick was stiffer, longer than any prick in the room. He watched the two 
smaller rods dip, saw the envy in the lidded eyes of both Lori and Peggy as 
the chestnut-haired minx moved her cunt up and down, up and down, and round 
and round on his need. 

"Ow. Ow, Ru-deee" Lori gulped, dropped her pretty blonde head to the sheets 
and thrust her rump high. 

Rudy quickened the pace, nuts smacking loudly against the girl's cheeks, 
cock boring relentlessly in. They were coming, Steve knew. And the couple 
beside him and Debbie were about to pop, too. He could see it in the glazed 
blue eyes of the girl who, moments before, had been sucking his meat, hear 
it in the deep-throated love noises she made. He fucked faster, as hard as 
he could, wanting to be on time. Wanting it to be a unanimous blast, with 
three pricks planting cum in three pussies in unrehearsed unison. 

Debbie picked up the rhythm. Her mouth hung open, eyes closed tight. Her hot 
little cunt snapped, almost smoking. The halves of her rear bounced like two 
pink balls in the palms of his hands. 

Christ! thought Steve, nostrils full of the maddening stink of hot young 
pussy, mouth full of the delicious taste of cuntjuice, hands full of ass. 
Not in his wildest dream had he ever imagined how good multiple fucking 
could be. It was like humping all three girls at once-the sounds and 
movements, the dizzy sway of the bed, the loud slurp-slurp of three hard 
dicks digging in and out of three soft pussies, all combined in one wondrous 
screw inside his head. He thought of Midge, sorry for her, for what she was 
missing. Sorry again for himself for having wasted half a lifetime before 
discovering the incomparable thrill to be found between a variety of legs. 
He reached out, cupped his hand over Peggy's left tit, then dug the fingers 
of his free hand deep in the crack of Debbie's plump behind. His gaze 
settled on Lori. Dizzily he watched her lovely breasts bob this way and 
that, saw the ecstasy on her face when Rudy rammed in and hold ... pumping 
semen ... grunting like a stuck pig as the act of love was completed. 

He stopped thinking, stopped caring about everything except the ass grinding 
above his tense loins. There were six other young cunts in the next room, he 
reminded himself. There was plenty of beer in the kitchen, and two boys 
working feverishly to keep the stuff flowing, to get the other six drunk. 

"Fuck!" he told Debbie, drunk himself with speculation, and the sounds and 
sights and smells of a bed full of willing teenage twat. 

Music drifted in from the living room. His cock spit. The night was young, 
he mused at the back of his sex-fogged mind. He didn't know how many times a 
man could come without stopping to rest. But he was determined to find out. 

 CHAPTER TEN 

The house was quiet when he awoke. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if perhaps 
it was all a dream. But there was nothing unreal about the shape of the bed; 
the rumpled sheets, the stains, and the lingering smell. He stared groggily 
at the sunlit blinds on the window. Morning. He tried to put the pieces of 
the night before together in his mind. It came out one endless screw; pussy 
hopping. 

He looked down his body. His prick felt like raw chopmeat, but tingling 
still. The hair on his nuts was crusted with dried cum. He remembered 
now-recalled how the party in the living room had broken up before he could 
get enough of the three minxes who had, he was certain, tried to fuck him 
into oblivion. He groaned, exhausted. He fell heavily back into the pillows 
and drifted again. 

It was noon when he opened his eyes the second time. He heard the sharp 
crack-crackle of bacon being fried in the kitchen. He grinned, feeling 
better now, stomach demanding attention, "Hey, Lori," he called. No answer. 
He waited a moment, frowned. The food wasn't cooking all by itself, he 
reasoned. Again he called. Louder. 

Midge appeared at the door. He blinked. She looked older; her eyes were 
black-ringed from lack of sleep, hair mussed. The wrinkled dress was the 
same one she was wearing on the day she ran from the house, spattered with 
grease from the stove now, a mess. She was the damndest unpredictable woman, 
he thought. A jack-in-the-box; now you see her, now you don't. He scowled, 
undecided whether to leap from the bed and crush her in his arms or pretend 
to be angry. 

"I tried," blurted Midge at last. "I did, I really and truly did. I kept 
telling myself I'd never come back, that I'd just sit there in our damp 
summer home and die so you and Lori...." Her voice broke. She brushed stray 
hair from her brow, shook her head. She sniffled. "Then the food ran out," 
she continued. "And when I started to go out for more, I remembered I'd 
forgotten my purse. Then the gas and electric went off, the whole block 
closing down for the winter. I ... I thought about going home, to my mother. 
But I couldn't tell her. I just couldn't! And then ... well, I guess I got 
lonely." She met his gaze, chewed her lip. "I thought about it and thought 
about it, Steve. About you and Lori. And me. I ... I don't know. What you 
said about her suc ... s-s-suc...." she stammered. 

"Sucking my prick?" he supplied, knowing the blunt use of the word would 
make her wince and deriving a perverse sense of satisfaction when she did. 

Midge nodded. "I ... I guess it really isn't as if you ... as if you and she 
... on, darn it, you know what I mean. As if you were doing it. Sex. I mean, 
like you said, she can't get pregnant from ... from sucking." She made a 
face, as if the hose lying limp on his thigh had entered her own mouth and 
the taste was awful. 

Steve reached for his cigarettes, lit one, and exhaled a cloud of smoke in 
her direction. Another problem, he mused, wondering what Midge would do when 
she learned the truth. That it wasn't just sucking anymore. That he and Lori 
were fucking almost every night now. And the others. Cunt all over the 
place. She had only to approach the bed, sniff, see the yellow cum stains to 
know. 

He threw his legs over the side of the mattress, stood. It was merely 
another hurdle, he told himself,-Midge was already halfway home, on her way 
to acceptance. "Is that breakfast I smell?" he asked, wanting to put her at 
ease. 

Again Midge nodded. Her gaze dropped to his long, red rubbery cock. Steve 
knew the look. Midge, for all her pretended morals, was a woman who liked to 
screw. It had been more than a week since she'd felt the hot stab of a 
prick; a week alone, thinking about him and Lori and remembering the day in 
the kitchen. She was more than halfway home, he decided. She was at the 
brink, a bare whisper away from complying with his every command. 

His stomach grumbled. It was the one appetite that was even stronger than 
sex. Not like pissing. That he had to do now-notwithstanding the lack of a 
hard on. Urine he could suppress; he could make a bloated bladder work for 
him, keep him hard longer when he screwed. But food was the fuel that made 
things go, replaced the wiggly cumworms for the next round of fucking. 

He moved slowly toward her, watched her green eyes flash as she followed the 
swing of his balls. He stopped with his meat dangling inches away from the 
dip below her round belly. She met his inquiring gaze, looked hastily 
away-as if she were the one at fault. He congratulated himself. She expected 
him to take her, he knew. Perhaps to finish the stand-up session begun more 
than a week ago in the kitchen. Instead he said, "Let's go eat." 

"Like...?" Midge pointed a trembling finger at his nakedness. 

He laughed. "Why not? Lori's probably asleep, and even if she isn't...!" 

He left the thought dangling as limp as his rod, took hold of her elbow and 
turned her toward the delicious aromas wafting in from the kitchen. Later 
they would talk, he added mentally. And before another day dawned, Midge-the 
wavering prude, a cunt who thought she wasn't a cunt like the others-would 
be eating out of his hand. 

Better still, he amended silently. By nightfall she'd be eating out of his 
crotch. 

It wasn't nightfall, wasn't even late afternoon. But Steve's belly was full; 
they had returned to the bedroom so Midge could change clothes, and as he 
watched the soiled dress come off over her head, watched the half-slip 
follow, saw her in panties and bra, garter belt, silk stockings, and 
heels-standing exactly where Peggy had stood at the foot of the bed-he 
remembered how good it had been before Lori interrupted their first stand-up 
fucking in too many years. He eyed the blonde pussy curls at the legband of 
the panties, the nipples showing red-brown through the semi-transparent bra. 
His mouth watered. His chest went suddenly tight. The soreness left his raw 
cock and hot blood rushed into the cord-like vein along the limp underside. 

Again Midge glanced at his growing manhood and looked hurriedly away. "I ... 
I think I'll take a shower." 

"I'll wash your back," offered Steve, envisioning her standing wet in the 
tub ... bending to retrieve the soap ... cunt and asshole gaped open ... him 
coming up on her silently from behind. He gripped his stiffening prick 
suggestively. "We haven't done that in a long time either, baby. Me, ah ... 
me washing your back. Like the stand-up screw we had going when you ran the 
hell out of here." 

Midge blushed bright red. "We ... we were supposed to talk, Steve. About us. 
Me, you, and Lori. Nothing's settled." She saw where he was looking. She 
spread her hand self-consciously at the crotch of the panties, hid the 
curls. 

It was time, Steve decided. In fact, it was long overdue. He recalled the 
plan he'd formulated upon their return home from summer vacation-the bold 
frontal attack. Midge had the front of it, he mused, blood beginning to 
boil. He was tired of trying to handle her with kid gloves, of trying to 
bring her around to his way of thinking in stages. Moving around the bed, 
placing himself between her and the bedroom door-just in case-he took a deep 
breath and said, "You should've been here last night, honey. Then we'd 
really have something to talk about. Christ, would we." 

She eyed him with a mixture of hesitation and curiosity. Her hand came away 
from her cunt, hung limp at her side. Her gaze darted down, up again. It 
seemed she couldn't resist sneaking another quick look at his growing rod, 
no matter how hard she tried. "Wha ... w-what hap-hap-pened las ... last 
night?" she stammered. 

"Fucking. Like you wouldn't believe." He pointed to the crusted cum and 
pussyjuice stains on the sheets as evidence of the act. 

"L-Lori?" 

He laughed, again squeezed his joint suggestively, moved his hand slowly up 
and down the hardening length. "She's some hot piece of ass," he said, 
wishing Lori was there to help, that he'd found her instead of the note 
which said she'd be late. "That kid-she could teach you a few things, Midge. 
A bagful of tricks is what she is. Her and the others ... Debbie Watson, 
Peggy. All of 'em fuck like bunnies, and I'm number one jackrabbit." He 
moved to her side before the information could really sink in, before she 
could rant and accuse him of what he knew she was thinking. It was silly, he 
thought: a married man seducing his wife to get what his daughter and half 
the female population of the neighborhood gave up without blinking an eye. 

Midge's hands came up to his chest, tried to push him away. "I ... oh, I'll 
never let you touch me again. I won't, Steve. Never. Never, ever!" 

His arm locked at her waist, bent her back. His dick snuggled into the 
heated pocket atop and between her thighs. "It started with Peggy last 
night," he breathed into her face. "A knob-job. Man! Then Lori came in, her 
and Rudy. You know kids-everything the grown-ups do. Then Debbie. She's a 
good little cocksucker, too. But last night ... Jesus fucking Mary! I had to 
have a shot of pussy after Peggy's sweet mouth. A mouth's good for openers, 
but...!" He spread his hand over her ass, felt the melon-like contours. His 
dick jerked upward, at attention, the fiery shaft flush with the puffy lips 
of her sex. 

"Oh, you ... you bastard! You rotten ... oh!" Futilely she pounded his 
chest. She sobbed. She struggled and tried to bite him, his shoulder, his 
chin. "I wish ... oh, I wish I'd never met you. You and ... and this!" 
Infuriated, too angry to evaluate what she was doing, she drove her cunt 
brutally onto his cock, gulped, "Ouch!" 

"What you mean is you wish you didn't want this." Steve returned the thrust. 
His fingers crept down the crack of her ass. 

"I ... I don't want it. I don't, I don-on't!" 

But he knew better; he knew she had fucked her hips forward because of an 
inner compulsion, a subconscious desire all women possessed. But why was it 
that only the older ones gave him so much trouble? The young ones, even 
Peggy, after the first halfhearted protests, seemed to know something the 
mothers and wives overlooked. Something as simple as admitting that fucking 
was good, the best thing ever invented, a national pastime-indoor sports. A 
cunt was a cunt and a cock was a cock, and Midge, if he was to keep her, her 
and Lori too, had to learn that there wasn't much else really worth caring 
about. 

"And then Lori," he continued, hoping to bring her around, to set her 
cunthole afire with a verbal rehash of the impromptu orgy. "It wasn't the 
first time, Midge. No! The first time was the day you ran from the kitchen, 
when she finished what you started, standing up. She's a sweet kid, our 
Lori. Um! The sweetest'. Her pussy's a shade or two lighter blonde than 
yours. Tighter, too. The way yours used to be. When we first met. 'Way back 
when. But there's still something special about you, Midge. Honest. 
Something I can't quite put my-" he dug his fingers into her cuntlips from 
behind-"my finger-on!" 

Midge threw back her head, gasped, "Ohah. Oh, you ... you d-dirty fink 
mother. You know I can't, ... ummmmmm! I c-can't ... oh! Oh!" 

He knew what she was trying to say: he knew she couldn't resist once he got 
a dart, any dart, up her pussy. As he had done with Peggy, he inched her 
back. Until her legs met the mattress and she teetered, then sat, then went 
down, feet dangling over the edge of the bed, thighs slightly parted, and 
tits-they seemed bigger now, lusher than the teenage boobs he'd grown used 
to-forcing the taut red-brown nipples against the flimsy bra with each 
heaving breath she drew. He flung his leg between hers, used his knee to 
rub, agitating her pussy. On his side, stiff dick digging into her hip, he 
gripped one magnificent breast and worked the peak against the palm of his 
hand ... massaging the way Midge liked best. It seemed he spent his whole 
life fucking now. But there was nothing he wanted more ... nothing so good. 
Nothing except getting Midge to adapt to his new, non-moral lifestyle. 

"Her cunt!" he went on, stroking her nipples, humping his rod urgently up 
and down along the panties at the soft outer expanse of her thigh. "I'm 
telling you, Midge-that fucking Lori! You gotta see it to know how she does. 
Last night she brought me up stiff when I thought sure I'd never get a 
harden again. Man-oman! Jesus H. Christ! Sucking ... fucking for hours. She 
performs miracles. All she did was lean over, kiss the tip. Run her lips 
down the shaft. Play with my balls. Um!" He moved his hand down her body. 
Her belly heaved up, held tight. Anticipating. Waiting for the dart to find 
the livery port. Inwardly, Steve smiled, paused with fingertips at the waist 
of the panties. "Play with my balls, Midge. Like Lori does for her Daddy. 
Hold 'em." 

Midge made a sound that was somewhere between a sob of acceptance and 
protest. He could see the mental struggle reflected in her lidded green 
eyes: incest ... a big Daddy-dick in a tight daughter-pussy ... infidelity 
with Debbie and Peggy and how many others? The accusations flashed, but 
interspersed with desire. 

He took hold of her wrist, guided her hand to his nuts. Her long, slender 
fingers closed. He sucked air through his teeth, choked, "It-um, Jesus!" He 
shifted, made her open her legs and positioned himself between. "It doesn't 
show, Midge. Lori's fuckin' for everyone else anyway. Why shouldn't I get 
some, huh? Think ... ah! Um! T-think about it, honey. Midge? Baby? Try ... 
ah! Try to see it from my point of view." 

"It ... it's sinful!" 

He laughed. He centered the head of his prick in the hot indentation at the 
crotch of the panties. "Everything good is sinful, Midge. Like it was sinful 
for me and you to be screwin' before we were married. Remember? You used to 
tell me that was wrong, too. Fucking just for the hell of it, instead of for 
makin' babies; some still consider that sinful-the same bunch who made up 
the rules about incest. Only nobody asked me, and the ole cock-suckers who 
made up the rules never had a sweet kid like Lori." He considered his own 
analysis, surprised at the clarity, the logic. Not even Midge could refute 
common sense. He waited for her to say something; to object or agree. 

"Oh...!" Midge looked away from his questioning eyes, again as if she were 
at fault. Her head thrashed from side to side on the rumpled bedding. 

Steve glanced down her spread-eagled body. The garter belt bit deep in the 
creamy flesh along the top of her thighs, the meat bulging succulent above 
the dark elastic tops of the stockings. And her pussy! It showed puffy and 
bright through the panties, the yellow nylon enhancing the yellow-white 
curls at each leg-band. An older version of Lori, he thought for the 
ten-thousandth time. A slightly fogged mirror image of the young, girl he 
adored. He shoved his hand between her legs, dug deep in her crotch with his 
fingers. 

Midge closed her eyes tight, bit down hard on her full lower lip. Her legs 
moved spasmatically, working the panties high on one hip, baring the springy 
curls of her pussy. Her wide ass bucked. Bucked higher still when his 
stinkfinger bored into her slit. She moaned. Her head continued to thrash, 
as if she were trying to say no-oow! But the accusations had left the 
sex-hungry look on her face, only the desire remaining. Need. Acceptance, at 
least for the moment, of being a cunt and having a cock stiff and ready to 
fuck its way in. 

Abruptly Steve rose and dropped to his knees on the floor at the foot of the 
bed. He knew Midge; he knew he'd have to get her so hot, hotter than ever 
before, so eager to screw that she'd fuck for a snake, before she'd consent 
to blow him. He wanted that. Wanted it more than anything. Because once that 
was accomplished, the last barrier down, his big dick pissing cum in her 
face, there would be no more pretenses. She'd know herself. She'd be the 
cunt she was destined to be, and there would be nothing to hamper many more 
nights like the night before. 

Swiftly he pushed the panties far to one side, bared her sopping wet gash. 
She sat up, said, "Wha...?" 

His mouth was there, sucking a sob from her throat before the word was 
completed. And his tongue was flicking rapidly-like the wings of a bird, a 
hummingbird siphoning nectar from a moist little flower-against her pink 
clit even before she fell back gasping, gyrating her loins, mashing her hot 
juicy cunt in his face. 

"You like it, huh, honey?" He stared up her body, past the panties and bra, 
watched her head come jerkily off the mattress, green eyes vacant of all but 
lust. "My tongue? Tell me, Midge. Tell me quick what you want my wet tongue 
to do." 

"Ea ... I w-want you to e-e-eat me, Steve. Ummm! S-suck my cunt. Yes. Like 
... just like you do ... oh! OHHHHH!" She doubled her knees, hooked the 
spiked heels of her shoes at the edge of the mattress. Her cunt and asshole 
gaped wide, the silk stockings and garter belt, the disarranged panties, 
emphasizing the blonde V of her sex, the glistening halves of her cunt and 
the cheeks of her ass. "Just like you do Lori," she finished, inching 
closer, bringing the target to the end of the bed. "Eat it for me. Please. I 
... I won't get mad anymore. I won't! I don't care about you and Lori. Only 
do it. Lick. P-put your ... umah! Oh! Put y-your mouth therere!" 

Eagerly he obliged. He opened, his mouth over the hot velvet lips of her 
pussy, sucked and licked. Fingered and lapped and tongued. He drank the 
strong woman stink, wanting to bathe in it. Wanting to make her stand over 
him and drip the sweet goo on his face, in his hair. Wanting to bottle it 
for his old age. For when fucking became impossible and he had only the 
kinky memories and a sense of smell. 

Noisily he lapped. Until Midge was a whimpering mass of raw woman flesh-a 
thrashing puppet to be worked by the nerve-end strings inside her smelly 
pink and purple and livery red sheath. Then he eased gently back onto the 
bed ... all the time sucking ... coaxing one nylon-clad leg down ... turning 
his face as he turned his body with feet toward the headboard. Until he lay 
reversed at her side, cock jerking like a live electric wire close to her 
mouth. 

"I ... I can't," whispered Midge, knowing what he wanted without having to 
be told. 

Steve ignored the unconvincing protest. He licked down the crack of her ass, 
back. He licked into her cuntlips. The panties were in the way. He curled 
two fingers beneath the crotch, yanked. The seam gave, the two halves of the 
undergarment forming a nylon loincloth. He tucked the rear flap under her 
buttocks, turned the one in front back over her vulva. He washed her blonde 
bush, down again. Inch by inch, he fucked his hips forward, until the glans 
of his prick was flush with her cheek, burning to enter the toothy hole in 
her face. 

"Nooo." Midge turned her face away, sobbed. "It ... it's too big. You ... 
you'll kill me, I know." 

He almost laughed. But there was no humor in the throbbing demand in his 
loins. His meat was a rocket about to blast off, about to tear the roof from 
the house. His nuts were two steaming comets. His chest was a bellows that 
had stopped working, leaving a smoldering fire inside his lungs. He wanted 
to take her face in his hands, force the length of his need in, making her 
gurgle and gag. Instead, he held himself back, said, "Try it, baby. For me. 
Just a little suck. I ... I promise I won't make you take it all the way 
in." He glued his mouth to her cunthole and sucked as hard as he could. 

Midge gasped on the tip of his cock. Her breath came in small, labored 
gushes, each intake matching the flick of his tongue, each exhalation in 
time with the grind of her hips. Tentatively, fingers atremble, she touched 
the long veiny monster standing like a tentpole straight out from his wiry 
cockhair. "Steeeeeeeeeeeeve!" she yelled when he captured her clit in his 
teeth, chewed gently. 

It was the moment he had been waiting for. While her mouth was open, the 
thrill holding her spine arched high off the bed, he rolled. He set his 
knees astraddle her head and fucked down. He felt her clenched teeth give. 
He pressed, slipping the knob of his joint into her face. 

The satiny warmth raced up his spinal column, triggered shooting stars in 
his brain. He cried out into her bush ... a triumphant bellow. He sucked her 
wet cunt and pressed on, planting inch after hard inch of dick in the face 
he had looked at and loved, kissed and caressed, through all the years their 
daughter Lori was growing. 

It was ironic, he thought. They were adults and Lori was merely a child. Yet 
it took Lori to teach him the real meaning of love-the thing he was now 
teaching Midge. There was nothing without sex-no love, no drive, nothing but 
the monotony he had endured for twenty years in the Army. Now life was worth 
living, tomorrow a challenge. Midge herself was a dare, her inhibitions a 
hurdle to leap. Every new cunt he met was a test, a variation. Every pussy 
he plowed, sucked, or fingered, every flushed lovely face he shoved his rod 
into, every asshole he reamed, was a conquest. 

He heard Midge gagging, felt her hands pushing frantically against his 
thighs. He hooked two fingers at each lip of her cunt, spread the halves 
wide and licked deep into the livery darkness, the mystery. The hands 
fluttered away. The gagging became a deep-throated gulp, the walls of her 
mouth turned inward. 

"That's it, honey," he breathed into her womb-so deep he half expected to 
see the pecker-like contraction at the end of her uterus ... see the place 
where Lori was made. Lori! He pulled back, drove his rod in to the roots 
with thoughts of the girl. 

Midge locked her legs at his neck, smothering him in the fragrant smell of 
her inner vagina. She yelped on the knob of the cock deep in her throat. Her 
arms flew about his broad hips, held tight. She sucked like a child drawing 
a thick milkshake through a pinched straw, all hesitation gone now, the 
pretenses and protests buried beneath the thrill of a tongue bringing on 
orgasm, shooting her stiff little pink clit into orbit. 

He'd won. He drove his dick in and out of her face like a greased piston, 
savoring the dual thrill of conquest and cum building. He felt the thighs at 
his neck tighten, tasted the hot gush of cuntjuice that meant Midge had 
reached the plateau and was tumbling into the world of bright lights and 
tingles. He lapped up the goo, strained. He urged his stiff dipping prick to 
join her. He fucked faster, slamming it brutally into her face, knowing that 
no matter what he did now, no matter how much he hurt her, abused her, used 
her, Midge wouldn't object. They were past the stage of tentative sucking. 
They had reached the place where a woman's mouth is a cunt without hair, and 
semen was the only cure for the hungry love noises coming from deep in her 
throat. 

"Suck it, baby," he told her, the cumload rising, eager to plant worms in 
her mouth, to initiate her. 

And Lori! Lovely Lori! Soon the girl would be home, he mused dizzily; the 
three of them reunited. Only this time there would be no brick walls. This 
time there would be only three willing bodies locked in mutual need. 

 CHAPTER ELEVEN 

It was a cool, clear, beautiful starlit night; a night worthy of the 
occasion, the end of a perfect day. Steve sat smoking in the dark living 
room. He felt relaxed, one with the blue-black sky beyond the big picture 
window. It was a day he and Midge would remember for a long time. 

He glanced toward the bedroom where his wife lay sleeping. He smiled. He 
could see only her small feet at the foot of the bed framed in the door, the 
lamp on the night table making her toes translucent. There was nothing she 
wouldn't do for him now, he mused. Life had taken on a different meaning for 
both of them, and love, that which they had shared through all the years of 
their marriage, was suddenly new, full of surprises. 

"Because of Lori," he whispered aloud, wanting to hear the girl's name. 

He turned his attention back to the window, anxious to have the girl home, 
in his arms once more. It was strange the way things had happened; Janice 
first, then Betty Anderson compounding the oral desire, and Lori-so far 
ahead of him and Midge in her childish way-forcing him to admit to his own 
incestuous drives, to come to grips with himself, and finally Midge. It was 
strange and unique and wonderful ... perhaps evil, perverted and wrong, in 
the eyes of those who still lived by ancient biblical codes, moral values 
that demanded mindless agreement, but the only possible way for him, Midge, 
and Lori. 

He drew deeply on his cigarette, let the smoke billow out and dance up to 
the ceiling. He watched it curl along the plaster, roll at the molding and 
fade, becoming one with the air. Just as he had become one with the 
stillness and tranquility of the starlit night. At peace. No longer at odds 
with the natural forces within. A man who knew what he wanted; a man who had 
conquered the last inhibition and who was about to embark on the adventure 
every father of a girl like Lori, every husband of a woman like Midge-though 
few would admit it-dreamed of ... longed for from the day the first fuzz 
appeared between their little girl's legs, to the time she walked out of 
their lives to fuck for another. 

He sighed. He heard a car in the distance-tires squealing around a corner. 
It was Rudy, he knew. And Lori. Little Annie Lori. Wonderful little 
cock-teasing Lori. He crushed his cigarette out in the ashtray beside the 
deep armchair, leaned forward and held his breath. 

The roar of a hot rod engine sounded at the far end of the street, sputtered 
as the driver stepped down on the gas. Again tires squealed, this time 
braking. Rudy's quivering jalopy jerked to a stop at the curb in front of 
the house. The motor screamed one last time before coughing, gurgling on the 
last ounce of gas, and settling into quiet. 

There was a blank moment-a moment of kissing and feeling Lori's high tits, 
Steve supposed-before the passenger door opened and Lori stepped out of the 
car. Rudy emerged at the opposite side. The girl waited for him. Steve 
watched them join hands and walk leisurely up to the house. He hadn't 
anticipated Rudy. Now he wondered why Lori had invited the boy in, and how 
best to get rid of the nuisance so he and Midge and Lori.... 

The front door opened as he rose from the chair. "It's late!" he snapped, 
angry because the boy was an unforeseen monkeywrench thrown into his plans. 
"You better send Rudy home, baby. Now!" 

"But we have something to tell you." Lori eyed the open fly of his shorts, 
grinned. She coaxed the boy by the hand into the room, closed the door. She 
cocked her head in the cute way she had of making Steve smile, no matter how 
angry he was. 

He flopped back into the chair, lit another cigarette and tapped his fingers 
impatiently. But he wasn't prepared for the news: he sat staring, mouth 
dropping slowly open as Lori said, "Me an' Rudy decided tonight we'd get 
married, Daddy. Not right away, but someday. After we finish school maybe. 
In a couple of years. An' Rudy, well ... you tell him, Rudy." 

The boy stepped awkwardly forward. He cleared his throat, sucked in his 
chest. Steve looked him up and down. Was he hearing right, he wondered. 
After all the scheming, all the preparations for this special night, was he 
to be cheated by a runt five-foot-six inches tall, and with a "prick no 
bigger than a hot dog? He glanced at Lori, at the disarranged skirt and the 
blouse hanging out at the waist. They'd been fucking, anyone could see. He 
didn't mind that-he didn't mind who the girl screwed. But he wasn't about to 
let the afternoon with Midge to waste; he wouldn't stand for Rudy or anyone 
coming between them now. 

"We ... we been talking," said Rudy at last. "About last night and all. We, 
ah ... figure we can ... I mean you can, ah ... that is, Lori and me want 
you to know we dig the way you, ah ... the way you do things. What happened 
and all. The party and like that." Again the boy fell into awkward silence, 
looked helplessly at Lori. 

The girl stroke across the room, parked her ass sidesaddle on the arm of the 
chair. She hugged her father's neck. "What he's trying to say, Daddy, is 
that we-I mean I want you to teach him how to screw. Like you. I love Rudy 
and all, but when it comes to fucking, well...!" She stared at him with big 
innocent little-girl eyes. 

It took Steve a moment to digest the request. Then he laughed. So loud the 
room seemed to shake, the house threatening to come down on their heads. He 
squeezed Lori, thinking how little he knew her, her impishly mischievous 
mind, in spite of everything. Who else would think of something like that? 
Fuck lessons! Him preparing her future husband! It was as insane as 
wonderful as everything else that had happened between him and the girl 
since his retirement. 

The noise had awakened Midge. She stood rubbing sleep from her eyes at the 
bedroom door, a sheet wrapped loosely about her. She looked from one to the 
other, as if she were the child of the family, and Steve and Lori, her 
parents, owed her an explanation. 

Steve let his hand drop to Lori's plump ass. "I'm going into business," he 
told Midge. 

"Business?" 

He nodded. "Tutoring, at Lori's request. Rudy's gonna be my first pupil." 

Again Midge looked from one to the other. Her eyebrows rose quizzically. The 
sheet inched low on her breast, exposing two halfmoons of creamy flesh. The 
material clung to her belly. She was a Roman goddess, thought Steve. A nymph 
called in from the outlands of Venus, province of Aphrodite, to participate 
in the banquet he had prepared. 

Lori giggled. "Tell 'er, Daddy. Before she goes ape trying to guess." 

Steve extended his hand. Midge came slowly, falteringly, from the doorway to 
the armchair, the sheet dragging the floor. Her fingers closed over his. She 
looked from his face to the hand kneading Lori's round buttocks. Her color 
deepened. She was still a bit gun-shy, mused Steve: still hung up in the 
last rigors of a lifetime of inhibition. He wished they'd had a son, too. A 
boy with Lori's temperament. Someone to do for Midge what the girl had done 
for him. 

A bulb went on inside his head. He blinked. Why not, he reasoned, staring 
past Midge at Rudy. "C'mere, son," he said. 

He waited for the lad to comply, to move close to the armchair. Then, before 
Midge knew what he was up to, he grabbed a fistful of sheet, yanked. The 
improvised garment fell away, exposing her pink and white quivering flesh. 

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Rudy. 

Midge gasped, tried to retrieve the covering. Steve threw it across the 
room, captured the hands that tried to hide her thick bush, the red-brown 
peaks of her breasts. "Rudy's your first extramarital fuck," he told her 
bluntly. "That's what I'm tutoring in, honey. Fucking ... sucking ... Lori's 
idea. Like I told you this afternoon, our daughter's some kid." 

It was nip and tuck for a while, Midge objecting that the boy was too young, 
wasn't part of what he had told her that afternoon, Steve countering that 
Rudy was three years older than Lori-almost a man-and was, as their future 
son-in-law, almost part of the family. The tug of wills continued until they 
entered the bedroom. Until Lori flung off her clothes, bounced naked onto 
the bed, and Rudy, apparently delighted at the prospect of sex with a woman 
twice his age, a woman almost as white-blonde and lovely as the girl he 
someday intended to wed, tentatively touched Midge's ass. 

"Don't do that!" she yelped. 

Steve stepped out of his shorts and sat beside Lori at the edge of the bed. 
He flung his arm over her shoulder, cupped his hand at her tit. He winked at 
the boy. Adding moral support, he dug his free hand into the girl's pussy, 
motioned for Rudy to do likewise. 

Rudy advanced on his prospective mother-in-law. "Holy shit," he balked. 
"How're we gonna fuck if you won't let me feel?" 

"We ... w-w-we're not going to ... to do anything!" But already her breasts 
were heaving, the nipples taut, and the V-shaped mound of her sex was 
swollen bright pink beneath the tight curls. She glanced, at Steve, watched 
for a moment as he fondled their daughter. Her eyes grew wide when Lori took 
hold of his cock, began to move her hand slowly up and down while they 
kissed. Her gaze followed the strokes ... up, down, up, down ... Steve's 
dick getting fatter ... longer ... veins popping like cords beneath the 
loose outer jacket of skin. She stared as if mesmerized, obviously 
forgetting the eager boy. It was only a moment, but more time than Rudy 
needed to twist his stiff middle finger up her hot cunthole. 

Then they were all on the bed; mother and daughter lying side by side, Rudy 
and Steve spreading two pair of thighs-one set more mature, fleshier, the 
other pair firmer up top, slightly pinker where the white columns joined 
trembling buttocks-one miniature rod and one bloated monster about to seal 
the pact Steve had made with himself. It was even better than he had 
planned. Now Midge would accept not only Lori, not only a threesome, but 
would be primed for whatever numbers he could lure to the house. Groaning, 
lost in visions of the future, of parties that became orgies, he set the fat 
tip of his prick at Lori's sweet slit, humped. 

"You-ow! Owah!" The girl took him halfway in, raised her knees and moved her 
hips in slow easy circles. "You're supposed to teach Rudy, Daddy. Remember?" 

It was a hell of a time to give lessons, he wanted to say. But one glance at 
Rudy and Midge was more than enough to convince him the boy was indeed in 
need of direction. Rudy hadn't bothered to take off his clothes-which was 
understandable considering Midge's initial reluctance. But more, instead of 
working her cunthole until it was wet, greased for a rod, he was fucking it 
to her dry, and Midge, tight to begin with, torment that showed on her 
pinched face, each time the impetuous boy lunged. 

"Fucking lesson number one," he growled at the over-anxious, 
under-experienced youngster. "You finger or suck a pussy 'til it stinks. 
When you can smell it across the goddam room, you know she's ready to 
screw." He scowled at Midge, who was blushing so red he thought sure she was 
going to rupture a blood vessel. It was funny, and he would have laughed if 
his joint weren't so hard, and if the little-girl hips beneath him weren't 
so soft, warm, and wiggly. 

It was Lori who did the rest-sweet, uninhibited Lori. Without waiting for 
him to complete the verbal instructions, she grabbed Rudy's knobby cock, 
yanked it out of its niche. Pouting, telling them all just what she thought 
of their dumbness, she undid the boy's pants and tugged at his shirt while 
he kicked free of the cumbersome lower garment. Ass churning faster, pointed 
tits rising and falling rapidly now, she waited for the boy to squirm out of 
his shorts. Then her hand returned to his prick. "Open, Mummy." she breathed 
in a small, appealing voice, fingers working the livery slit so like her own 
... probing ... darting in ... opening and closing the lips. "I'll help. Men 
don't know." 

"I ... Iiiiiiiiii...!" Midge obeyed. She raised one knee, threw it wide, 
jackknifed at the boy's side. Her thighs formed a delectable alabaster 
runway to the springy blonde target. Arms flung back, hands clutching the 
headboard, she stared wondrously down at the tiny fingers steering Rudy's 
meat into the pinkness, that had indeed, after only a few gentle stabs, 
begun to stink. 

Steve watched too. It was something else he hadn't planned; he had never 
thought of matching two cunts, Midge and Lori, watching them work on each 
other. Now he considered the possibilities, the endless variations. Again, 
as he had done the previous night, he wondered how many 'times a man could 
pop before he went blind. Fell unconscious. Tore the insides out of his 
balls. 

"Holy, holy, holy holy, ho-leeeeeee!" Rudy's ass jacked up and down, 
planting the last inches in Midge's tight pussy. "Ah! Manomano-manomanoman!" 

"Now latch onto her buttocks," directed Steve. "Hold 'er ass and fuck. Not 
too fast, though. Easy at first. 'I'll she starts to go wild-like someone 
stuck a knotted rope up 'er rear and is pulling it out." He knew because it 
was what he was feeling in Lori. 

He turned his attention back to the girl, stared into her flashing green 
eyes. He pulled out until the base of the tip appeared at her cuntlips, 
watched her pout become a grimace of longing as he pressed ... forcing the 
stake slowly in ... making it last ... prolonging the union of soft pussy 
curls and coarse cockhair. 

"Daddy. Oh, Daddy, I love you so." Lori locked her arms at his neck, urged 
his face close to hers. 

Steve kissed her, took hold of the cheeks of her ass, and began to screw in 
earnest. He listened to Midge's sighs, the boy's eager grunts. That was 
another thing he had to teach Rudy, he cataloged mentally. Not to grunt! To 
pant and growl and bellow triumphantly, but never to make noises like a 
stuck pig. A couple of years, Lori had said. There was plenty he could teach 
Rudy in a few years, and more for Lori to teach both of them before she 
married the boy. 

The bedsprings began to squeak rhythmically. Beside him Midge took control, 
at last giving in, shedding the last mental restraint Her hands slid down 
the boy's back, clutched his small, wiry cheeks. Her legs shot up to his 
waist, locked. Out of the corner of his eye, mouth still glued to Lori's, 
Steve watched his wife become the woman who had sucked him off that 
afternoon. Their gazes met. But only for an instant. Only long enough for 
her to mouth a silent yes! Then her head began to thrash from side to side 
on the pillow, her ass began to pound. Her pussy began to slurp on the boy's 
dip-dip-dip-ping tool. 

"Lori, baby," he groaned into his daughter's sweet mouth. There was no need 
to say more. Only fuck. Ram his big Daddy-dick up her hot belly. Twist a 
finger deep in her asshole and slam. Hammer her gyrating hips brutally into 
the mattress with endless energy. 

It was over too soon. He had just gotten it in, it seemed, when the girl 
stiffened, closed her cunt tight at the roots of his meat and refused to let 
go. She tore her moist lips from his, cried, "Da-Da-deeeeeeee...!" 

It was more than he could endure. The look on her lovely face, the sight of 
her swollen white-blonde pussy breathing, sucking, demanding its due, worked 
on his prostate-triggered the switch that opened the floodgates of love. The 
cum poured. It ripped a strangled sob from his chest, another from hers. It 
made his dick spring up longer and stiffer inside her, made his hips buck 
and pound. He couldn't think, couldn't see, couldn't hear, could only feel. 
And what he felt was heaven itself, white-hot and good. So good. Pussy to 
cock and belly to belly, a plump little-girl ass in his hands. A special 
little-girl ass-his little girl's. 

When at last it was over; the semen oozing hot from Lori's pink gash, 
forming new stains on the sheets; when he lay limp atop her, cock basking, 
preparing itself for more, recuperating; when Rudy and Midge had reached the 
white-hot place too, the boy wheezing like the carburetor on the jalopy he 
drove, Midge cooing, mothering him; when the room stopped spinning and the 
boat they were on was a bed once more, Steve turned to his wife, said, "That 
wasn't so tough, was it?" 

Midge smiled. It was more than mere facial acceptance-it came from within. 
It was the first real smile he'd seen on her face in months. She tried to 
speak, but the orgasm, the thrill, was still caught like a lump in her 
throat, locking her vocal mechanism. She reached for his hand instead, 
placed it over the tit opposite the one Rudy was sucking. 

They lay still for a long time. Until the sound of labored breathing grew 
faint, became normal. Lori stretched beneath him, made his cock leap anew. 
She made a face. "What now, Daddy? "she asked. 

"Now--he glanced at Rudy, who was watching him with the look of a puppy 
waiting to be told to go fetch a stick. "Now we get on with it," he 
finished. "Your boyfriend's education. Your mother's, too." He raised his 
ass. His joint popped wetly from the girl's sloppy little pink cunthole. 

He barked orders as if he were back in the Army, and the three-Rudy eager, 
Midge slightly skeptical, Lori wide-eyed and curious-were his troops. He 
made Rudy pull out. He made Midge and Lori wipe the goo from their cunts 
with the edge of the sheet. He studied the terrain, searching for the most 
rewarding approach. It was cock-sucking time; they all knew it. But he 
wanted something more. Something like champagne. An extra treat. 

He snapped his fingers, suddenly inspired. It would be awkward, he knew ... 
a four-way, rotating gymnastic. A switch game. Something he'd heard about 
somewhere, though he couldn't recall where. On his knees, he waddled to 
Midge, arranged his legs astraddle her chest. His sweaty ass and huge balls 
came down on her tits, dick still rock-hard and bobbing at her chin. She 
started to speak. He silenced her with a hand over her mouth-stinkfinger, 
wet with the gook from Lori's tight rear, smelling of shit, probing her 
lips, getting her ready for the longer, mightier dart. He motioned Lori to 
her feet at the head of the bed, and Rudy, who had been watching every move 
with eyes that threatened to pop from their sockets, up behind. 

"In her ass," he told the boy. "While I suck her pussy, and Midge-" he 
grinned evilly down at his wife-"sucks me. Then we'll switch up, everyone 
getting a shot at being the low man. Even the girls." 

Lori scowled. Hands on hips, feet planted wide apart and cunthole wafting 
its fishy aroma in his face, she said, "That's dumb, Daddy." 

"Is it?" Steve took hold of the cheeks of her ass, spread them open for 
Rudy. He lashed out with his tongue, raked her wet slit, the tiny pink 
soldier showing its head-like a man wearing a derby, round and shiny-from 
between the fleshy lips. 

"Umph! Owwwwwwwwww!" The girl's hips shot forward as if someone had shoved a 
torpedo up her cute ass. Her hands came down at the back of his head. 
"Owah-ah! Ow, Daddy. Um! Umah!" She gasped as his tongue found, the pinkness 
once more, made her clit dance. "Da-dee-eeeeee...!" 

Steve pushed his hard prick into Midge's mouth at the same moment Rudy set 
his miniature pole at Lori's pinched anus. Together they humped, the boy 
matching the tempo Steve set, the girls moaning. Two hardens bored home-Lori 
taking hers with backward drives of her hips, pulling the meat deep in her 
delectable rectum, Midge sucking the glans of her husband's rod into her 
throat. Again the bed began to rock ... though gently this time, the four 
working as one to prolong the sexual bliss. 

The second cumload was always the best, mused Steve, his gaze darting from 
the white-blonde bush in his face to the mouth caressing his tool. He felt 
the soft tits, the rubbery nipples, quivering beneath his ass, against his 
balls, hefted the lush little melons in his hands. He smelled and licked. He 
rotated his loins, shafting Midge's flushed face. He listened to the sounds 
of their lovemaking-Rudy grunting again-damn! He'd forgotten to tell the boy 
about that! Lori gasping as if her small lungs would burst, and Midge 
gurgling like a clogged drain. It was stupendous. And there were two holes 
in mother and daughter he had yet to plow: Lori's asshole and mouth, both 
lower ports on Midge. Only not yet, he reminded himself. Slowly. Just as the 
cum was about to spurt. Out of one and into the other, the short pause 
cooling the action, making it last. It was the name of the game-switch! 

He thought back to summer vacation, to the cunts he'd sampled. Hadn't Midge 
said something about having invited the Andersons and Sniders to visit? 
Betty? Lyn and Viv? He closed his eyes, drank deep of the sweet smell of 
pussy and envisioned a night in the future-a summer reunion. 

"Holy shit!" blurted Rudy. "Man, if we're gonna ... ah! Ah-ah-oh, manoman!" 
He gripped Lori's tits, squeezed so hard the melons receded into her chest. 
"Goddam, Lor. What an asshole you got. But if we're gonna switch, we better 
do it quick 'cause I'm comingggggggg!" 

Lori stared down at her father. Her hips slowed. She loosened her grip on 
his head. "Daddy?" 

Midge gurgled, unable to speak but telling him with her body that it was 
time for something to be shoved in one of the vacant holes where it 
counted-pussy or ass, both if he could arrange it that way. 

Was there anything in the world better than fucking, Steve wondered. Money? 
Fame? No! he decided. Empathically not! There was nothing to compare with 
cunt. With a daughter who loved him in the best possible way, and a wife who 
had at last come around, would do anything for him. And with prospects for 
the future that could-if he thought about it long enough, closed his eyes 
and imagined-wrench the cream from his balls. 

How many men, husbands and fathers, could claim as much, he wondered, 
wanting to pass it on, to say to the world of inhibited men, "Don't fight 
it. Because life's too short to let it slip by without taking that pussy ... 
a daughter ... whatever. Go!" 

He grinned up at Lori, then down at Midge. He released the girl's succulent 
ass flesh, used the back of one hand to wipe the cuntjuice from his mouth. 
He pulled his dick slowly from his wife's face. He winked at the boy peering 
expectantly over Lori's cute shoulder. 

"Switch! "he said. "Go!" 


THE END
