"Loving daughters" - читать интересную книгу автора (Burke Evan)

CHAPTER FIVE IF YOU'VE GOT THE NAME…

It took me a long time to figure out. But once I had it all thought out and straight in my mind, it didn't take me too long to see that I'd come across the one chance I was ever going to have to get back at Pa for all the whippings he'd given me just for breakin' down that one time and lettin' myself do the same thing he was hankerin' for. It was going to feel good, seeing the mean old bastard crawl like a whipped pup. Real good. I stared right into his hungrin' eyes as I leaned back against the tool shelf that was built against the wall of the barn. As I began to undo the buttons at the top of my thin cotton dress, he stood just inside the doorway, shuffling from one foot to the other.

"You come for your sample of what everybody in town's been a-gettin' didn't you," I said, with all the pure spite I could put into my voice. "So don't just stand there and try to make like you didn't. If you want it, come out like a man and ask for it. Less you ain't got the balls…" I just smiled and didn't finish the sentence. He'd ask. I knew he'd ask. That's why he was here.

"You little whore of the devil," he said. His face was in shadow now, but I knew he was staring hard at the open front of my dress. It was like his flat little eyes were burning the white jugs I'd half, bared… I undid another button and the dress was open to my waist.

"Not no little whore, Pa. Don't you remember?" I said, sort of dragging the words out so they'd sting him more. As he came slowly closer, I said, "I'm the biggest whore in Brevard County. Remember? If you've told me once you've told me a million times. Been fucked by everybody but the preacher's mule. Them was your own words. Don't you remember? Course I ain't been fucked by you… not yet!"

"Sinful little slut!" he said, stopping just a couple of feet away. I could see a muscle working beneath the dark brown skin that was stretched drum tight across his square jaws.

"Sinful as they come. But I got nice knockers, ain't I, Pa?" I watched the hunger mix with the hate on his flat features as I pulled the front of my dress wide, letting my big knockers stare him right in the eyes. He kept staring at them and wiping the palms of his hands on the front of his faded jeans, as I fingered them and said, "You gonna just stand there alookin' at 'em all day? You one of them fellows who's gotta do a lot of lookin' 'fore he can get it up? Ol' Miley Adams, he's like that. Has to watch somebody else a-fuckin' 'fore he can get it up. You like that, Pa?"

"Shut your Goddamn mouth," he said, slowly, like it was all he could do to get the words out. The thick muscles of his arms and chest bunched beneath his blue work shirt as he kept on wiping his hands up and down his jeans. I could see his pecker pushing against the front of his pants, and I knew I was really gettin' back at the hateful old bastard.

He was standing there hating himself as much as he hated me. Hating himself because he'd give in and come here, and hating me because I wasn't makin' it easy for him. I wasn't about to, either.

He'd come here to fuck me, and I wasn't going to pretend different.

"Well, if you didn't come to look, and you didn't just come to talk about doin' it, then you must've come to fuck," I said, stepping closer to him across the straw-covered floor. I stopped when I was standing with my tits less than an inch away from his chest, let my hand reach down to feel of his pecker, then, like I was surprised, said, "Well, you sure enough did come here to fuck! Seems like you got a right nice hard on. You could sure enough do a girl up pretty with a pecker like that. That's what you come for, ain't it?"

I wanted to hear him admit it.

"Shut your Goddamn filthy mouth!" he snapped suddenly, and I tried to duck as I saw his open hand swing up from his side. It exploded against the side of my face and I reeled backward. My eyes lost focus for a second or so, then it was all right again. He'd hit me a hell of a lot harder before. I laughed right in his face.

"So you don't want to do no talkin' about it, huh? You just wanna get it in? Well, get it in ain't that what brought you here…? That's what brought me here." His face was twisted with pure hate as he admitted what I wanted to hear. He walked slowly toward me, unbuckling his belt as he came, and he glared at me like I'd crawled from under a rock as he added, "You ain't no good… ain't never been no good… been the ruination of every single one of us. I should never've blamed Clay. Should've knowed it was your doings all along. Should've knowed that."

"But I'm good enough to fuck, ain't I, Pa?" I said, standing with my hands on my hips and not backing up an inch. He didn't scare me no more. Not now. I knew that he'd never scare me again. I said, "I'm good enough you'll come crawling to me for pussy, ain't I? Ain't I that good, Pa?"

"And that's all you're good for," he said, then threw his arms around me and pulled me in against him. His big hands dug brutally into my rump, pulling me in so that I could feel his pecker pushin' at me through our clothes. His face was against my neck. I heard him whisper, "Just good for a man to unload himself," as he backed me toward the straw piled in the corner. His shirt was bruising my nipples. "But you're plenty good for that," he said, then flung me down on the straw.

He tore at his clothes like a wild man, while I watched and waited, laughing to myself. He was horny as a billy goat with three peckers… him, the uppity old son of a bitch, the high and mighty bastard who'd spent three years making me pay for one short fuck. I gave him a look that said I was horny myself… He stared at me as he kept right on clawing at his clothes.

My dress had flew way up my long legs when he threw me down, and I shifted them so he could see most all there was to see. The blue dress made a frame around my white knockers, and I knew that my long dark hair must look pretty good to him as it fanned out against the lighter-colored straw that made a thick pillow beneath me. I was naked under the dress, but I was pretty sure he couldn't see my cunt… just close enough to keep him drooling as he stepped out of his jeans.

He was brown all over from working out in the sun, except from his waist down, and even there the wind had burned him darker than most. His muscles were like thick ropes under his skin, and he would have really turned my damper up, just from looking, if I hadn't hated him so much.

Still, I had to admit, he was really hung…

His pecker was hard, I could easily see as I looked up and saw him shuck his shorts, but its own weight caused it to slant downward toward where I lay. His nuts were enormous beneath it, a hairy sack that filled the space between his thighs. As if his mind had been miles away, he suddenly looked down across his naked body, then down at me, and he said, "So now I ain't no better'n you. We're both of us sure enough headed to hell."

"Sure enough," I agreed, then ran my hand down across the place where my dress sank into the hollow above my cunt. "Any special way you wanna get there, Pa?"

And then he came after me.

As he sank down on the straw, I raised one knee.

The dress lifted and slid down my bare thigh, falling into blue folds across my lower hips. It let him see my cunt, I knew, and his face tightened as he stared down between my thighs. I used my hand to tug the dress up higher. He put his knees between my legs and came at me like a bull in heat. I had won it all.

He got his hands on my knockers and squeezed them like it was the first time he'd ever felt a tit. The hard muscles of his thighs were pushing against the insides of my legs, spreading them, and he tried to kiss me on the mouth. I turned my head.

"You can fuck me, fuck me any way you want," I said, feeling the straw against the side of my face, "but you ain't gonna kiss me. I only kiss people I like."

"Little bitch!" he snorted against the side of my face, but he quit trying to kiss my lips. One hand left my knocker, began tugging my dress higher around my hips. As I raised my butt and tugged it up so that it was around my waist, he panted, "You're a bitch right straight out of hell!"

"With a pussy right straight from heaven," I said, gloating because the old bastard was hooked like a catfish. When I got through with him, I told myself, he'd sure enough never forget it. He'd have a craving for my pussy that would stick to him like his own skin. He'd come crawling and begging for it, for just a quick piece, for just a look, a feel, a sniff of my cunt.

And this was the last time he was going to get it.

I stroked his naked back with my fingers, just fluttering them across the tight muscles until I had teased my way down to the small of his back, and I felt him put one hand on my cunt. He rubbed the lips of it, slipped a finger in, opening them, and his mouth leaped down and sucked at my knocker. The nipple went hard inside his mouth.

I moved one hand around between our bodies and got it around my jug, holding it like I was nursing a baby. While he sucked at the big nipple, sort of chewing it with his lips, I swung my hips up under him, so that my cunt was raised and ready. He fingered it just a second or two longer, then put his hand under my ass. His pecker touched the other side of my bare rump.

I was reaching for it myself when he lifted his hips, settled himself in a better position over my upraised cunt, and drove his cock home. He fucked just like he did everything else… mean!

There was no gentle teasing around my cunt, like other guys did, no givin' it just a little to get it ready for what was to come, no inching it in. He just drove it all the way up my cunt with all the strength he had, then started fucking like he was in a hurry to go some place. And it hurt!

I'd had bigger peckers, I reekon… I just couldn't remember when! And he used his like he was afraid it was gonna fall off. Like this was gonna be his last piece. Like a bull mounts a randy cow. That was how he fucked.

As he rammed his pecker at me with all he had, pushing it right up to my tonsils, his teeth bit down hard on the nipple I was feeding him. It sent a fearsome pain through my body. Biting my bottom lip as I felt the pain ripple through me, I let my knocker go and clawed at his back with the nails of both hands. It only made him give me more of the same.

His teeth just dug deeper into my nipple, like he was trying to chew it off, and the hand he had under my ass tightened brutally on the soft, smooth flesh. His pecker banged into me so hard that I could feel the hard bony place at the top of his groin smashing itself against the little hill above my cunt. His mouth made funny grunting noises around my tit. He was starting to sweat.

Those big nuts of his were swinging in against the naked orbs of my ass with each inward push of his big pecker, and my naked skin made a little squeaking noise as it rubbed against the straw. My cunt ached dully, like it was going to be split by the big rod he was prying it with, and I heard myself begging him to slow down.

"You don't want it slow, bitch," he said, lifting his head from my breast and ramming me hard with his pecker, holding it all the way in me as he said it. "Girl like you wants it fast. Wants it so's she can get a lot. Wants it hard. A hard and proper fucking, that's all a girl of your kind wants!"

"And he kept right on giving me one."

I threw my legs across his back, just above his ass, trying to slow him down. He just pumped it faster, and I could feel him sweating against my naked tits. His hand moved my ass around beneath him. I felt it starting to get good to me. It sure enough wasn't no fault of his… but it was getting good!

I tightened my legs around him — a little trick that shortened the strokes of his pecker — and I let my own hips take up the motions of fucking, sort of revolving in little bumps and grinds beneath him, letting my cunt lift and fall to get a good taste of the pecker he was feeding it.

He had quit biting on my nipple and had pressed his face in the little dip below my throat, but the ache was still pounding in the tip of my knocker. Only it ached in a crazy kind of good way, like it does when it's gettin' a little loving. My cunt was feeling that dull ache, too, thumping and pounding all crazy-like, the way it does when I'm getting all stewed up and ready to come.

And then Pa grunted like a stallion breeding a favorite mare, shoved his pecker at me so hard I felt myself move backward on the straw, and came. He pulled it out while he was still dripping. A few drops fell on my belly, just above my cunt, and a few more left a wet place on my dress. He flopped over on his back, beside me on the straw. I laughed at him. Laughed like a maniac.

"Pa," I said, just as slow and as spiteful as I could, "you're a lousy fuck!" Then I laughed again.

"Just you wait and see," he said. "I ain't got started yet. I ain't done with you yet — just you wait and see."

"I'll wait," I said. "I'll sure enough do that."

I closed my eyes and waited.

I smiled to myself as I listened to him breathing heavy beside me. I'd done just what I'd set out to do. I'd made the pious old bastard do the same thing he'd been tormentin' me about these past three years. I'd made him do it — and it would haunt the better-than-thou old son of a bitch the rest of his days. At least, I hoped it would. Three years, he'd made me suffer… God! It seemed like a century!

And it had started right here. Right in this very barn. Only it was good that time. And different. And it was more by accident than anything else. No… not by accident. More out of curiosity, I guess. At least on my part. Who can say what made Clay do his part in what we did…?

Clay was my older brother, seventeen then, to my fourteen, and I thought he could walk on water. I followed him around like a puppy. When he'd letter me, that is. He was tall and long, with a proud way of carrying himself, and there ain't no doubt at all he was the handsomest boy anywhere around Piney. I wasn't the only girl followed him around, I can tell you. Maybe I was wantin' the same thing as the rest of 'em, I don't know. But if I was wantin' to be laid by him, I'd never admitted it to myself. Not until the day it happened.

I was standing at the pasture fence, leaning over with my elbows on the top railing, when Clay came up behind me. I knew he was there but I didn't pay him any mind. I was watching King, Pa's big red stud, as he tried to mount one of the three mares we owned. Then Clay goosed me, way up between my legs.

"Don't do that, Clay!" I yelled, turning and almost falling backward. He grinned at me.

"Ain't we touchy today, Pearlie May," he said, using my middle name like he always did. "You got somethin' up there that wasn't there last week?" He slapped me on the butt… hard!

"Ouch! You just ain't supposed to touch girls… there." We'd always kidded around, wrestled, stuff like that, but recently I'd been trying to avoid those kind of things… for a simple reason. It gave me that kind of feeling I got when I necked with a boy, and it left me feeling empty when it was over.

"Hell, you're my sister. I seen everything you've got," Clay said. That was the truth; we'd shared a bed until I was twelve. He looked at me sort of funny, then said, "Of course, you're gettin' a helluva lot more of it. Hey! You're even gettin' titties!"

"I've got titties," I corrected, standing so the round little swells poked out against my thin green dress. "In case you ain't noticed, I've got more than that Sue Watson you're always sniffing around." I blushed as soon as I realized what I'd said.

"Hey! You sound almost like you're jealous," he said, then he ran his eyes up and down my body. He shook his head like he was passing judgment on me, then said, "You ought to do a better job of paddin', though. Any fool can see you're wearing falsies."

I knew he was just poking fun at me, the way he was forever doing, but still I said, "Do they feel like falsies?" And taking his hand, I placed it on my tit. With that one stupid, childish move, I ruined both our lives.

He jerked his hand away like I'd burned him, and his eyes gave me a look I'd never seen in them. I knew right off that I'd given him the hots, and it somehow prodded me into teasing him about it.

"Do they feel false?" I asked.

"No, they ain't false," he said, sort of choking on the words. He looked away, then looked back again, and his eyes kept dropping to my tits. "Seems like my sister's done turned into a woman."

It gave me a hot feeling just knowing he'd think of me as a woman. Clay could have had most any girl he wanted, yet here he was staring at my tits like he wanted me. Just before he turned his back and leaned on the fence, I saw that his pecker was hard. He did want me. It gave me a crazy sort of thrill.

"Won't be too long before half the boys in Piney'll be hanging around the house," he said. "Tryin' to mount you like old King's trying to mount that mare."

I saw that the stallion was on the mare, biting her neck as he tried to breed her. I felt a crazy urge to show Clay that I was the woman he'd said I was, that I was no baby.

"Maybe a couple of them have," I said, lying. Then I turned and walked toward the barn, swinging my hips like a stripper, and all the way there I could feel Clay's eyes following the sway of my butt. He followed me a few minutes later.

"Who done it to you?" he asked. I was using a pitchfork to toss hay into one of the feeding stalls and I just kept right on working. Over my shoulder, so he couldn't see my face and know I was lying, I said, "Wouldn't you like to know. Who you been adoing it with?"

"More than a few. They all like it, too."

"I'll bet."

"And they keep right on coming back for more," he bragged, and I turned around in time to see he'd been staring at my ass as I bent to scoop up the hay. He blushed a deep red, the first time I'd ever seen him flustered, and I grinned at him as I said, "You see somethin' you like, Clay? You lookin' at somethin' them other girls ain't got?"

"You shouldn't tease like you're doing, Pearl," he said, and the nervous way he said it made me see he was fighting back a desire to put his hands on me again, to kiss me, to… Looking him right in the eyes, I dropped the pitchfork and said, "I ain't teasing you, Clay. I ain't teasing you a bit."

When he put his arms around me and pulled me close against him, kissing me on the mouth, I was surprised to feel that he was shaking almost as bad as I was. His hard thighs were pressed against mine, and I could feel them trembling through his jeans. His hands were actually shaking as he cupped the cheeks of my ass and lifted me so I was standing on my toes, and he was breathing like he'd been running hard. So was. I.

I'd never before been kissed the way he was kissing me… with his mouth open and his tongue moving. His hands, too, were doing things I'd never before felt. They were working the soft round little globes of my butt, pulling me against the hard swell at the fly of his pants, making me shake worse than ever. I was all dizzy by the time he scooped me up in his arms and carried me toward the back of the barn.

And then we were on the straw.

"I looked up into his handsome face as he fumbled with the buttons at the front of my dress, and he looked like he was hypnotized or something. His eyes looked to be out of focus. Then I felt the dress open down the front, leaving my titties naked: As he looked down at them, blinking, I almost threw my arms across them, covering myself up like a girl's supposed to do. But he didn't give me time for such foolishness, anyhow."

With a little gurgling cry from somewhere in his throat, he flung himself down on my naked breast. I felt a shock like the kind you get from icy water as he sucked one of my nipples into his mouth. His one hand covered my other tittie, doing things to it, and I rolled my head from side to side on the straw. I could feel my nipples getting bigger and bigger, swelling like they'd bust for sure.

When his other hand slipped under my dress and started rubbing me on the insides of my legs, I just naturally parted my thighs to make it easier for him. My pussy was wet inside my panties, just all wet and craving to be touched, the way it sometimes got. My body jerked when his fingers touched my crotch. I put both hands on the back of his head, holding him as he sucked and sucked and sucked on my rigid little nipples, and my fingers tugged at his hair when I felt him slip my panties to one side and touch his fingers to my bare pussy. He fingered the tight little slit for a moment, then, as I lifted my rear to make it easier, he tugged my panties off.

The rough straw felt good against my naked ass and legs, his mouth felt even better as it worked on my tits, and the best feeling of all was the touch of his fingers on my wet little cunt. I got my hand between us and unzipped his pants. I put my hand on his pecker, the first one I'd ever touched.

He pulled back when I touched his pecker, like he was surprised, and then he smiled down at my hand. "You sure know what a cock's made for, don't you?" he said, then reached down to put his hand over mine. He moved my hand on his cock and said, "Just can't wait to get it in you, can you?"

I nodded my head stupidly, staring down at his pecker, and I was starting to get scared. I hadn't really meant to go all this far. A little playing with each other, a little kissing… just letting him see I had as much as most girls. That was all. But I'd heard it hurt something awful the first time around, and his pecker was so big…

Clay didn't give me no chance to back out, though, or to show him I really was the tease he'd said. He suddenly rolled between my legs and, with his hard pecker just sticking out the open fly of his jeans, he slipped both hands under my ass and lifted me to him. As I felt the head of his pecker touch the lips of my cunt, I started to cry out, to say something, but then he fell heavily down on me and was kissing me on the mouth while he used one hand to guide the head of his cock into the narrow slit of my cunt.

As the head of his pecker prodded itself at the tight little cleft, I felt all my fear leave me. It was good! Just like it was when I touched it, when Clay'd touched it.

Then he pushed it in.

I felt something stretch tight inside of me, tighter as the rod of his pecker tried to push it aside. Then it gave way with a searing flash of pain and a ripping of flesh and his pecker was way up in me, gripped tight. I cried out as I felt him move.

I'll never know what made Clay stop. It may be that he heard my cry; it may be that he felt the warm blood that was seeping from me. But he suddenly stopped and backed himself out and knelt there looking down like he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Well, I'll be Goddamned, a Goddamned virgin," he said. "Why did you…"

And that was when Pa came in the barn.

He just stood there blinking for a second or so, and then he bellowed like a bull and went after Clay. Went after him with his fists, too. Clay just stood and took the whippin' for as long as he could, like he didn't even care, but finally he tried to fight back.

It didn't make much difference, though, because Pa was just too strong. Too strong and too mean. He like to of killed Clay, beating him until he was down on the floor and his face was covered with blood, and then stomping him with his heavy boots. And when I tried to stop him, he just knocked me aside like I was a feather and told me he'd see to me later, then kept right on kicking at Clay. His own son, and he beat him like that.

Clay left Piney that day. Left and ain't been back. And I got my beating later, just like Pa had promised. It was just a hint of the beatings the old bastard was to give me over the next three years. But he was never going to beat me again. Not now, now that the hateful old bastard had fucked me himself.

"And was hoping to do it again."

As the reader has learned from the opening portion of this study, Pearl was the child of a rural couple of low income. Her father lacked an education; he was, in fact, semi-illiterate. He was later described by Pearl (in portions of the interview not included in her narrative) as a man totally lacking in affection, even toward his, wife, or toward Pearl as a child.

So it was probably a reaction to this aloofness on the part of her father that directed Pearl's affection and devotion toward her older brother, Clay. And it was, of course, this total devotion, even adoration, which motivated Pearl toward the commission of brother-sister incest. Clay, of course, simply yielded to the temptations of her childish sexual advances.

Though most researchers have concluded that the incidence of incest is somewhat higher among the class of which Pearl is a part (the less-educated, those with lower incomes, those from rural communities), the greater frequency is not because the taboo against incest is less strong among these groups, it is due to other factors.

In a low-income family, a brother and sister are much more likely to share a room, or, for that matter, a bed. The opportunity for sexual exploration is much greater. So is the opportunity for the early creation of sexual curiosity, along with the chance to satisfy it.

In many such households, the child may even share a room with one or more adults. If not, there still exists the lack of privacy which exposes the child to an awareness of the sexual differences that exist among other members of the household; glimpses of the parents in a state of nudity, or near nudity, are inevitable. So is an early understanding by the child that the parents sleep together.

While this early exposure to those children of the opposite sex, and to adults, may be healthy in many respects, it certainly tends to lower the sexual barriers that exist between male and female children reared in households where greater privacy is afforded.

Children raised in rural areas are inclined to see sexual matters as a more natural function of the body than are their counterparts who live in the city. They are exposed to sex from an early age onward. They know how cattle and horses breed; they often see them doing so. They know how the young are born.

Wayland Young, in a dissertation on the genetic dangers involved in incest, observed that:

The best cattle and the best racehorses are produced by continuous incest over tens of generations. "Best" in a cow or racehorse, however, is most reliable: a stock which will stay fat or swift, and will not risk its owner's profits by suddenly changing its shape or weight. Stockbreeding consists of using incest as a fixative. Might not this serve to weaken the fear of genetic damage due to incest among those humans who know of it?

It seems a logical conclusion, though the fear of genetic damage is less likely to be a factor among the young. Most would not even understand the term. It is more probable that exposure to the inbreeding of livestock leaves the child with a vague sense that sexual intercourse is no less acceptable between members of the same family than it would be between any other couple.

The rural child has less social contacts, in most cases, than the child of the city, and the contact with members of the immediate family increases in direct proportion; so does the opportunity for sexual contact.

Finally, though it is by no means true in all cases, the less-educated are far less likely to explain sexual matters to their children than parents with a higher level of education. Sex is just there for many of these people, and the child will learn about it in due time. It is a measure of the strength of the taboo, against incest, however, that few of the parents who do recognize the need for open discussion and explanation of sexual matters would dream of warning their children against incest.

Incest is simply not mentioned in our society. But it exists, and this refusal to admit its existence seems especially disturbing when considered alongside the following statement by Wayland Young: It is clear that brother-sister incest happens mainly in families where no one has got around to telling the children they shouldn't do it.

If one can imagine a situation where no one tells the children anything at all about what they should and shouldn't do, and where, the school does not either, it is easy to imagine that there would be little against incest.

It would be hard to find a more accurate description of the home-situation that led to Pearl's incest with her older brother.

As she has mentioned, Pearl was never allowed to forget that day she was discovered in incestuous intercourse. Her father constantly berated her for it. He falsely accused her of sexual promiscuity with boys her own age. And he had driven from their home the only member of the family toward whom she had felt any affection… her brother Clay.

Pearl had once felt no emotion for her father; now she both hated and despised him, and his actions convinced her that he felt the same toward her. She began to change.

When her mother and father harangued her before a neighboring couple for the "sin" she had committed, her interlude with Clay became a matter of common knowledge; and so, of course, did the reason for his departure. This made her an object of scorn and ridicule among girls her own age, a sexual target for boys, and was the greatest reason behind the sudden charge in her character.

The sexual promiscuity of which she had been accused soon became fact.

Sensing that her father was far more concerned with the "shame" she had brought upon the family than he was with her welfare, Pearl used her sexual looseness as a weapon with which she could strike back at him for the constant beatings she suffered at his hands. She saw that the destruction of her own reputation hurt him far worse than it did her (in her own eyes, at least), and she used it against him.

While it may be that Pearl was convinced of the "sinfulness" of the act she had committed, and was subconsciously punishing herself by degrading herself sexually and encouraging further punishment from her father, it is also true that she soon recognized the frustrated sexual desires hidden behind the sadistic actions of her father.

"The biological significance of it (sadism) seems to lie in the need for overcoming the resistance of the sexual object by means other than the process of wooing," Freud once wrote. Although Pearl would have been the last to think of it in such terms, she did see that her father was struggling, at times, with his own sexual desires.

When Pearl realized that her father wanted her just as badly as Clay had wanted her, but was terrified at the thought of acting on his desires, she lost all fear of him. She began to torment him by openly flaunting her sexuality, by taunting him with the open revelation of sexual escapades, some real, some imagined.

Though this infuriated her father, the beatings were made bearable by the knowledge that he was suffering the pain of his frustration. Besides, the beatings came anyway, submissive though she might be.

Then came the day when Pearl realized she was capable of inflicting the ultimate in pain, shame and humiliation on the father she hated; she needed only to entangle him in the same web of incest which had caused him to treat her so cruelly.

In the conclusion of this case, Pearl tells how she came to realize this and how it was accomplished.

Pa was half slumbering there on the straw beside me, sleepin' it off like a lot of older fellows do after they've had themselves a little. Takes them a while to get it back up. I lifted his soft pecker with my hand, let it fall back between his legs. He opened his eyes, looking at me with a mean glare.

"Can't you get no lead in your pencil, Pa?" I asked, getting up on my knees beside him and bending over so that my big knockers hung down through the wide opening at the front of my unbuttoned dress. I looked mockingly down at his limp peter. "Thought you was a real stud. Thought you could ride a girl raw-assed. Looks to me like you ain't nothin' but a one-shot pistol," I laughed.

"I doubt the man was ever born could give you enough," he said hatefully. "But just you wait…"

"Ain't no sense in waitin," I said, knowing I had to keep him here a good while longer. I had to keep him here until everything fell into place. "I reckon maybe you could get it up if I sucked you off a little. You reckon so?" I said.

"So you're that, too," he said, like he was talking about a murderer or something. But I felt his pecker swelling a little as he spat, "A filthy cocksucker! You've gotten that low!"

"Ain't nothin' filthy about it… unless maybe it's your pecker," I threw right back at him. I noticed he wasn't exactly fightin' to get away. "You gonna tell me Ma don't never suck it a little…"

"Keep her name out of your filthy mouth!" he snapped, and I just smiled real easy at him as I bent low over his pecker and said, "I ain't no filthier'n you, Pa. Remember? Me, you and Clay, we're all in the same boat. Or should I say family? And this…" I kissed his pecker, "… this is just a little fun among kinfolk."

Before he had a chance to do any more arguing, I lifted his pecker and put the head of it between my lips. That stopped anything he might've meant to say. He just choked on his words as his pecker began slowly losing its softness in my mouth. I made myself imagine that it was the pecker of another man — any man but him — and that made it easier and more fun to give him a good and proper blow-job.

I sure as hell wouldn't kiss him on the lips, but kissing and sucking on his pecker was different. It was part of what I was doing to him. I made the most of it.

With his dick all soft and shrunk down like it was, I was able to get most all of it in my mouth. I used my lips to make a soft cushion over my teeth, so they wouldn't scrape him, and then I just opened wide and gobbled down on his pecker. It had a little hardness in it, and more getting there all the time, and that kept me from bein' able to put it all in my mouth; besides, even soft, it was a pretty good-sized dick.

But I managed to take it down far enough into my mouth that the tip of it was poking me right near my throat, and then I just eased my way back up his prod, keeping my lips around it like a tight little hairless cunt and sucking so hard on it that I tasted a little come being oozed into my mouth. That went right on down my throat.

His pecker was hard as a rock by the time I'd gone down on it and sucked my way back up for the third time, and I could feel his hands pawing me all over. One of them was under me, holding tight to the soft white flesh of my naked tit, and the other one was between my legs, up on my cunt.

He had tossed the skirt of my dress up over my ass, leaving me stark naked down there, and his hand was rubbing away at my cunt. He'd bruised me up pretty good with the hard way he'd put the pecker to me earlier, but his hand felt surprisingly good as it rubbed across the lips of my cunt. I opened my legs for him.

My cunt was damp inside and out from the come he'd dumped in me, and from the steam I was working up as I mouthed his pecker, and I reckon that's what all at once gave me the idea of wanting him to eat my cunt. Damn…! What an idea!

"A filthy cocksucker!" he had called me, and maybe I was. But what would that make him if he ate my cunt? If he ate it now, while it was still full of his own come… what would that make him? I didn't know, but I knew he'd remember it every time he thought of me. He'd remember the taste of sticky flesh. The taste of his own cock, maybe, and he'd be too ashamed to even think of me as a filthy cocksucker!

But he had to do it without me asking. It would be better that way. He'd have only himself to blame whenever he remembered the way he'd sucked at my cunt and tasted the thick cream from his own pecker, the way he'd licked and sucked at my cunt and went after…

As I sucked at his rock-hard pecker, I felt myself getting hot and horny just from the thought of having him stick his tongue up my cunt… up the wet cunt he was rubbing. But I wasn't going to ask.

I didn't have to. I'd learned from experience what most men will do when they're having their pecker sucked, especially if a girl has enough brains to make it a little easier for them. So I just made it a little easier for Pa to eat my cunt.

I just shifted myself around, like I was trying to find a position that would make it easier for me to suck him off, and then I just lifted one leg and threw it across him, so I was straddling him with my cunt right above his face. Then I went right on sucking him off, but slower, so he'd be a long time coming.

I doubt that the old bastard had ever thought of sucking a pussy before — that's how pious the old son of a bitch was — or, if he'd ever thought about it. He was too big a hypocrite to admit it to anyone, even the woman who owned the cunt. But now he had one staring him in the face.

And my mind was made up that he was going to eat it.

I braced myself above him by putting both my hands on the thick patch of hair above his pecker, my fingers spread and my thumbs just touching the thick base of it, and I bent down and touched my tongue to the tip of it. It wobbled a little as I licked at the tip of it, so I steadied it with the fingers of one hand. He lifted his hips a little, trying, I reckon, to get me to take his pecker all the way back in my mouth. But this was my ballgame, and we were playing by my rules.

I just kept on licking his cock, running my tongue all they way down the sides, around the head, flicking the big blue vein with my tongue, and I moved my ass from side to side above his face. He had his arms sort of wrapped around my legs, reaching under me with both hands to tug at my knockers, and I was beginning to think maybe he wouldn't eat it. So I spread my knees wider and lowered my cunt down closer to his face. Holding his pecker against the side of my throat with one hand, I leaned way down past it and began working on his nuts. I sucked hairy, wrinkled flesh between my lips, nipped it teasingly with my teeth, licked it with quick little strokes of the tip of my tongue, and I felt one of his hands leave my tit.

It went between my open thighs, rubbed them a little, and then moved up. I felt his lips touch my legs, one, then the other, way down by my knees. He kissed me a little higher as his hand touched my pussy. Then higher still. I felt him spread the lips of my cunt. His head lifted higher between my thighs, rolling from side to side as he kissed his way closer to the cunt he was spreading with his fingers. His hand left, went back to my knocker, and I felt his warm breath spreading over my inner thighs, close to my gash.

I put my mouth back over the head of his cock and began sucking it as his hands left my tits and moved back to the cheeks of my ass.

And then I lowered my rear until I felt the first touch of his lips against my gash. He'd never call me a cocksucker again, I knew. He kissed it like he was afraid it was going to bite him or something, just holding himself up between my thighs with his face barely touching the lips of my cunt. Or maybe he was just checking to see if he liked the taste. But whatever it was he soon got over it.

As I began sucking his cock in dead earnest, mouthing the head of it like I was starving to death and using the fingers of both hands to beat off the rod of it and tease his nuts, I felt him start eating my cunt like he'd been raised on it. If this was the first time he'd ever eaten gash, all I can say is that he was born with a talent for it.

He pressed his face up into the wet lips of my cunt, licking me like I'd never been licked before. His tongue moved like a wet little pecker. It crawled around the tight outer lips. It pried them open and went between them. It moved in and out like a cock. His head moved between my legs, dragging that tongue back and forth through my cunt, and once he pressed his face so deep into the wet trench that I even felt his nose go between the lips. I let my weight shift so that my cunt was pressing down on his face, pushing his head down beneath me. I raised my head from his pecker.

"Suck my cunt good, Pa," I said, grinding it against his face. I wanted him to remember for the rest of his life every last detail of what we'd done today. I tightened my thighs around him. "Suck every last drop of come out of it. There! Suck it like that!"

He was damned sure doing as he was told.

His lips were fastened tight over my cunt, pulling hard at the slimy flesh, and his mouth made funny noises as he tried to suck the juice back out of me. I felt the stiff little bud at the front of my cunt get itself sucked into his hungry mouth, and the good feeling of it caused me to get a hunger of my own. I fed that hunger with a big mouthful of his pecker.

His tongue was giving me a good case of the-hot-and-hornies. It was settled on the little button of my clit now, licking it up good and proper, and I returned the favor by skinning his cock with my lips. With my mouth moving up and down his pecker in a steady bobbing that I knew would bring him off in my mouth before very long, I let my hips pump above his mouth in a fuck-like roll that would do the same for me. In a matter of seconds, it did just that.

I busted loose right in his mouth, squirming and wiggling like crazy, and he kept right on a-sucking at my cunt. He still had me coming when I felt his pecker spew its thick cream into my mouth and down my throat. When the last of it was swallowed and his mouth had fallen away from my cunt, I turned around and put my arms around him, snuggling up close… just like I liked him.

Now that he'd gotten his nuts off for the second time, I knew he'd be wantin' to leave. Just like any man leaves a woman once he's done with her, he'd be ready to walk out.

And I had to keep him there.

"That was good, Pa," I said, changing the tone of my voice so I sounded like a purring kitten. "Real good. You're a real man, sure enough." I pressed my whole body against him, like I was trying to get right inside his skin.

At first, I thought he was gonna pull away and leave me. But he was sufferin' that kind of tiredness most men go through after a good hump, and he just settled back into my arms again. I even thought I saw him smile.

While I locked my legs around him and stroked the back of his head with my fingers, I started giving him a big line of horse manure about how he was the best piece I'd ever had, telling him that I'd really always wanted him to put the pecker to me, and talking about how we could do it all the time from now on.

Well, the man ain't born who don't like to hear that kind of talk, so before long he was snuggling up with his face resting against my knockers, eatin' my words up just like he'd ate my cunt, and even puttin' in a few of his own. He wasn't in no hurry to get away anymore, and I just kept right on sweet talking him until he dropped off to sleep with his head resting against my knockers.

If everything turned out like I'd planned it, it was going to happen pretty damn soon, I figured. While I waited, I held him real easy, so he wouldn't wake up and I thought about how I'd first got the idea of doing what. I was doing. Strange I hadn't thought of it a long time before. But I hadn't. Not until the night before… when Henry had made me see just how possible it was.

I'd snuck out of the house after supper and met Henry on down the road from our house, and we'd drove on over to his place. Les, his little brother, was the only one there, and we'd gone right on in the bedroom and stripped for action. Les, too, because Henry said he was apt to tell the folks if he didn't get a little pussy for himself. I figured that was just an excuse to cut his little brother in, but I didn't argue about it. I'd had a lot more than two run a train on me before, and Henry knew it.

Les was just fourteen, four years younger than Henry, a skinny little fellow with sandy hair and freckles, and he was impatient as all get out. He was pawing on my tits 'fore I even had a chance to get on the bed, and I expected to see come start squirtin' out of his hard little pecker any second.

Henry just laughed and pushed him away from me and said, "Don't go gettin' your bowels in no uproar, boy. Ain't nobody said a word about you goin' first." He got down on the bed beside me and put his hand between my legs. "I don't fuck after no man. Especially after all the trouble I hadda go to t' get Pearl here, away from that bastard Pa of hers." Pa had used a shotgun to chase Henry off our place one time, and Henry, big as he was, was scared to death of him.

"Well, get it on then, huh?" Les said, prancing around, nervous as could be. He looked at me. "I'm horny as hell. You gonna fuck 'er or ain't you?" He rubbed his balls with both hands.

Henry ignored him. "I know why the old motherfucker tries to keep you cooped up like a chicken," he said. He rubbed my cunt. "He's jealous 'cause he ain't gettin' none of this. He can't get his, so he thinks everybody else oughta go hungry. That's what! You think I ain't never seen the way the horny old shit looks at you? In town last week, I…"

"If you ain't gonna fuck 'er, why not let me take firsts?" Les interrupted, and he was begging so hard I laughed. But Henry had set me to thinking. I patted the bed beside me. "There's room for three," I said. "And I know a way you both can go first. But let me hear this, okay?" I put my hand on his pecker as he scampered into bed beside me.

"The man just wants to fuck you, ain't no more to it," Henry said, and just shut up about it. He was ready to fuck.

It come to me in a flash that Henry was right. All this time, these three years, while Pa'd been whippin' me, yellin' at me and wantin' to know where I'd been and who I'd been lettin' do it to me now, he'd been just gettin' himself all worked up and horny, and he was dying for a piece of my tail. Dying for it. Right then I could see his face and the expression that was always on it when he beat me, and I knew for certain that Henry was right.

"How we both gonna go first?" Les asked, bringing me back to the present, where I lay between them on the bed, one of my hands on each of their hard peckers. Henry was kissing me in the dark hair above my cunt. Les was on his side, holding my knocker and looking like he was trying to get up enough nerve to lean down and suck it.

"You ever had your pecker sucked, little fellow?" I asked, and I jacked my hand up and down it a couple of times. He was shaking as he said, "Sure I've had it sucked… lotsa times," and I knew he was lying, trying to play big.

Henry laughed as I said, "Then you know how you're both gonna be first," and he moved around and made room for me as I got on my knees with my hair and my knockers hanging down beneath me and got ready to suck his little brother's pecker. All three of us knew he was just bragging, that this was going to be his first blow-job.

So I made it a good one.

He was so tight and nervous that I had to use my hands to pry his skinny little legs apart before I could get my facedown between them and lick him on the nuts, and when I raised up a little and touched one of my nipples to the head of his dick, he moaned and squirmed so bad, I thought he was going to come right open. I felt Henry behind me.

He was settling himself in against my ass, get ting ready to fuck me from behind, and his pecker was hot and hard as it banged against the insides of my legs. His hands were on my waist, raising me the way he wanted me, and his cock-hairs felt rough on my naked butt. I liked the feel of them, so I wiggled my butt. Then I turned my head to look at the face of his little brother. It was red as a sun burn.

"All them other blow-jobs you had been slow and good like this one?" I asked, teasing him. "Or do most of your girls just get a big mouthful of pecker and suck it till you get off? You rather I just blow you fast?" I watched his head roll from side to side as I worked the skin of his pecker with my fingers. He tried to answer, but just tangled himself up on the words. I licked the head of his pecker.

"You got the kid so horny he'll spend the next month beatin' his meat," Henry laughed from behind me. He reached beneath me and got a hand on my knocker, touched the head of his pecker to my cuntlips, and said, "Better take him off, else he'll go crazy."

So I went ahead and took him off.

"He snorted and squirmed around on the bed as I sucked onto the head of his long slim pecker, and I tasted a drop of come as it seeped into my mouth. He was really hot. I used every trick I knew to make him hotter — teasing his nuts with my fingers, tongue swirls on the head of his prick, slow, drawn-out suckings — and I had myself almost worked to the point of coming when I felt Henry give me the first heavenly shove of his cock." He really put it deep.

"I think I'm gettin' ready… I think I'm…" Les whinnied, his thin hips bucking as I bobbed my lips faster over his prick, and then he came in my mouth. I kept right on sucking, while Henry fucked away at me from behind. My cunt was warming to his touch.

As I sucked thirstily at the thick come pouring from the pecker of the young boy beneath me, I could feel the bigger cock of the older one plowing through the wet flesh of my cunt, really pouring it on. He knew how I liked it. With hard pushes he hammered the head of his prick against the rear of my cunt and brought his hairy nuts swinging in between my legs. Henry knew that I liked it. That was why he gave it to me that way.

And Les, like most young boys can do, got his right back up again. It had gone half-soft inside my mouth as he lost the last of his come, but my fingers on his balls and my tongue on his prick brought it right back to life. By the time I felt my cunt starting to shake and shimmy around Henry's pumping cock, tightening with pure joy as I came for the first time, Les was hard as a rock and was holding the back of my head with one hand as he struggled to fuck me in the mouth; and by the time I'd gotten my rocks off for the second and then the third time, and Henry had cried out and shot so much come into me that it filled my cunt and then ran in warm streams down the insides of my thighs, the kid was going again. He came less this time and I had hardly any trouble swallowing it. Hardly any trouble at all.

It was late when I got home, and I knew I was going to catch it for certain. But it didn't make no difference. I had my mind made up by that time, and I was just sorry I hadn't thought of it sooner. It just took Henry's proddin' to make me see all the things that'd been at the back of my mind. Like the way he'd accuse me of bein' out fucking even when he knew I couldn't have been. And the way he used to make me pull up my dress while he strapped me, back before I stood up to him and put a stop to that. The excuses he'd found to beat on me and yell at me. They all added up.

It had been eating his Goddamned guts out 'cause he'd been dying to fuck me and wasn't man enough to try. And he'd made me go through hell because of it. But never again, I promised myself.

It was his turn to suffer a little. By the time I walked in the house I had it all figured out, and he didn't scare me a bit when he came angrily out of his chair by the fireplace and demanded, "What you think you're doing comin' home this hour of the night? Where in tarnation you been?"

Ma just got up and left the room, like she always did when she knowed he was going to give me a whipping. I watched her go, then said, "You really want to hear what I been doin', not where I been, don't you, Pa? Ain't that it?" He was pulling off his belt, like he thought I'd stand there and let him use it on me. "You'd rather I'd tell you about who I been fuckin', wouldn't you? Well, there was two of 'em, and I…"

"You keep a civil tongue in your mouth!" he shouted, and he looked like he couldn't believe I was standing up to him like I was.

I finished the sentence he'd interrupted."… and I sucked one of 'em's pecker. Would've sucked 'em both, but one fellow liked his straight. Ain't that about what you wanted to hear?"

"Little spawn of Satan," he sputtered. He just stood and stared at me, hating me with his eyes, wanting me with them, too. I almost laughed when I looked at the front of his britches. I walked right up to him and put my hand there.

"Ain't no use wastin' a good hard on, Pa, or just keepin' yourself horny by thinkin' 'bout it," I said. "Not when you and me could get together and knock some off just about any time we had a notion. We could get together down at the barn…" I saw the slap coming but didn't even try to duck.

It knocked me a little bit backward, and caused my ears to ring, but I didn't even reach up to rub at my burning cheek. It wasn't all that bad. It was like I'd took the strength out of him somehow. I just stared right at him and said, "Maybe I'd even go down on you, if you was to ask me real nice."

"Just a sinful little slut," he said, standing there like he was frozen to the spot. He was still standing there staring at me when I walked to the door of my room. He didn't say a word when I looked back and said, "I'll be waitin' down at the barn around four tomorrow… just in case you want to try a little of what everybody else has been a-gettin'." Then I went in my room and closed the door.

And — by God! — he had showed up. And I was holding his naked body between my legs, his face against my tits, waiting for the final piece to fall in place. If it did, he'd spend the rest of his life paying for the pussy I'd given him. But it had to work, I kept telling myself over and over, it just had to.

Then, just when I was starting to think maybe it wasn't and that I was going to have to try another time, I heard the creak of the barn door being pushed inward. Ma stepped through the door and stood there blinking as she tried to adjust her eyes to the changed light inside the barn.

"Pearl, what's all this foolishness of leaving me a note to come clear down to the…" She started to ask about the note she'd found when she came home, then stopped as she realized what she was seeing. Pa's eyes blinked open and he tried to sit up.

I held him with my legs until Ma couldn't possibly doubt what she was seeing, then I let him go. He scrambled to his feet.

"You filthy son of a bitch!" she screamed at him, and she barely noticed me as I walked past her and out the door. She was still yelling when I reached the house. I, knew it would be a lifetime before she stopped.

I changed into the best dress I owned, combed out my hair and straightened my makeup. Then I took two hundred dollars from Pa's savings in the flour bin, put it in my purse and checked the time. I had less than an hour before the bus was due to leave for Nashville.

"I walked out of the house and down the road that led to the world and I never once thought of looking back."

And so it was that revenge — not love or even desire — motivated Pearl to lure her father into the same incestuous situation which had led to her own punishment at his hands.

But even though Pearl was able to leave her home and family behind her, she was unable to escape the scarring memories. From Nashville she drifted through a succession of larger cities, paying her way as a prostitute. At the time she was interviewed, she was living with an experienced lesbian, also a prostitute, and felt sure she was unable to have a meaningful relationship with any man. She attributes this to her experiences with her father, and is probably correct in doing so.

It is just one example of the possible cost of sex between daughters and fathers.