"Do me, Daddy!" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Ron)

CHAPTER THREE

I dressed and got Roy's suitcase from the back of his car, while he fished his soaked pants and jacket from the pool. Then he got into some dry clothes and I fixed us fresh drinks, intending to chat him up till he was recovered enough to get a nice hard-on and fuck me again.

He saw through me, of course. I figured that a recital of my sexual history might get him excited, so I began with a description of how the boy who took care of the riding stables at school had persuaded me and a friend to look at his prick and take turns sucking it. That was when we were twelve and impressionable. It didn't take the devious young bastard long to get us into the hay.

Roy listened, nodding seriously, and I thought I could see him turning on, but when he found a chance to speak, he asked me questions about the divorce, about how Mom and Daddy were before it happened, about how I felt. He sounded like a school psychologist pumping an unwary subject, but it wasn't the kind of pumping I had in mind.

So when I got the floor, I moved on to the next chapter in my life, a picnic for our school and the neighboring boys' academy which turned into an orgy in the bushes. That didn't face Roy. He listened to me talk, still nodding straight faced, and then he wanted to know how I thought about my father.

It hit me in a twinkling. He was leading up to what he figured would be a startling revelation to me – that I'd come on with him because I was lonely and had sexual feelings toward my Daddy. He was about to tell me that he represented a father figure in my subconscious and that was why I sucked and balled him.

That was horse-shit. I didn't have any sex feelings about Daddy. He was a pleasant man, fat and bald on top, and sometimes we could laugh together, and that was it, buddy. And anyway, he was in Australia now. The worst was, I didn't really miss him. I only saw him in the summers or on holidays, when I was home from one of the schools they were always sending me to. Daddy and I hardly knew one another, though we did manage to have a little fun together.

I gave Uncle Roy a smug grin that was intended to let him know I was in on his scheme, and as soon as I got the chance to speak I told him about Kendy, my roomie last year at school. She's the one who used to lick my cunt. I enjoyed eating her snatch, too, but not as much as she liked to get her hands and mouth on me. She was from somewhere in New York state, up along the Hudson, very sophisticated, very cute, with the makings of a first-class lesbian. Oh, she'd screw guys sometimes, for kicks or just to be bitchy, but most of her interests revolved around pussies, and mine in particular. She seduced me the first night we shared a room, and I described it to the Uncle Roy in vivid detail, the way she'd crawled into bed with me, all teary-eyed about being away from home and soooo lonely. And before I knew it she had my nightie pulled up and her finger in my crack.

Her mouth soon replaced her finger and she was sucking cunt-honey out of my gash by the gallon. I'd had my cunt licked and sucked by guys, by that time, but never so sweetly as Kendy managed to eat me. Her tongue was like a butterfly on my pussy and I climaxed into her gulping mouth again and again, till my legs and twat ached and my heart was warm and full of love.

So she invited me to give her snatch a try. I did, and I found out why she grooved on that scene so fiercely. Not many guys can eat cunt as nicely as a girl can, and before the first semester was up I'd gotten to be nearly as dykey as Kendall. In fact, I got so interested in her that I almost gave up guys completely. Until one night I got worried about turning into a queer, so I sneaked out of the dorm, went into town, and picked up a guy for a refresher course in hetero fucking. I brought him back with me – Kendy was home for the week to attend an uncle's funeral and I had the room to myself – only the proctor caught us before we could get down to the basics. I got kicked out of school and sent home and didn't even get to kiss my roomie good-bye.

That story seemed to shock Roy just a little bit. Let him try fitting that into his little theories, I thought smugly. A nice thing about me was that I didn't have any complexes. I liked to fuck and stick and I believed in taking my pleasure where I found it. He just happened to be the most delicious thing I'd ever gotten my hands on.

And I was very much interested in getting my hands on him again. We were sitting by the pool and twilight was coming on. Mom would be back soon, if she lived up to her promise. If I was going to get anywhere [missing text].

I got out of my chair, went across the tiled floor to Roy, and plopped down on his lap. I was dressed now, wearing a pair of tight short-shorts and a little bra halter that showed off the insides of my tit-curves, but I didn't have anything on underneath them. My nipples were stiff and pokey, just from remembering all the good times I'd told him about, and the tight fit of the shorts-crotch had rubbed my cunt to near madness. I squished down on him and began to rub my long hair on his face, touching the front of his shirt at first, then slipping my hand inside to feel his bare chest beneath. He mumbled a protest, something about it being too late, that Mom would be here soon, but I kissed him and he kissed me back. The kiss had nothing to do with fathers or even uncles. He knew it and so did I. My ass wriggled on his lap and I felt his boner spring into life. His cock wasn't fully erect – yet. Did we have time for a quickie?

Oh, I didn't want a quickie! I wanted him to throw me down on the tiles by the pool, to strip away my clothes, and then to make long, sensuous love to me. I wanted him to lick my tits and belly, to scrape my clit with his teeth, to ram that long tongue of his all the way up my pussy. I wanted him to kiss my asshole and tease it with his tongue and fingers. And then I wanted him to take off his own clothes and fuck me within an inch of my life. This time, I knew, I'd have no trouble taking his big, lovely cock, on the very first stroke. He'd fill me with his manhood, suffocate me with pleasure, and then we could fuck like horny dogs till the sun came up. I wanted to come and come and come again, and still be hungry for more.

And I heard the Goddamned sound of a Goddamned car outside the Goddamned fucking house and I knew I'd waited too long, that Mom was home at last and my plans were scotched in the bud.

"Get up!" he hissed into my ear. "I don't want her to see this!"

"Oh, fuck her!" I snapped back, hopping off his lap. The point of his dick still poked up inside his pants and I decided that it would be a proper thing if he still had a hard-on when Mom joined us. Serve him right.

"One more thing," I whispered to him as he heard Mom's car door slam shut outside. "Daddy always used to throw you up to her when they were fighting. Did you ever really screw my mother?"

He didn't have a chance to answer. Just then Mom came onto the patio. She stood a moment in the doorway, letting the house lights shimmer round the outlines of her figure, and then she was running towards Roy in a joyous haste. They came together and she lifted her face to his for a kiss that seemed to last forever. And when they finally moved apart to stand side by side, I didn't really need an answer to the question I'd asked Uncle Roy.

It was like I didn't exist any longer. They only had eyes for one another. I heard them start talking, both at the same time, and then they laughed and stopped talking, each waiting for the other to start again. Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. They reminded me of teenagers out on a date.

"I was very sorry to hear about the divorce," Roy said. "It was too bad for you and Dick both."

"Was it?" Mom asked, her voice positively kittenish. She has a soft, Marilyn Monroe way of talking as it is, but she sounded as if she were scooping it from the ladle right now. Damn her, anyway! And Roy was eating it up, the way he'd eaten me up in bed. He smiled and nodded and I could tell that he was listening to every word she said and loving it all. Damn him, too!

It wasn't fair! I'd worked my ass off seducing him, and now he was fallen into Mom's lap like an overripe peach.

I was so Goddamned angry I stomped past them and into the house and, ten to one, neither of them even noticed that I was gone. I went into the game room, turned on the TV, and slumped into a chair, ready to watch whatever might be playing. I just didn't care about anything.

Twenty minutes later they came through the room, holding hands now, still talking and smiling, and neither of them spoke a word to me. I stuck out my lower lip. Maybe I'd tell Mom about what a good time Uncle Roy and I had enjoyed while waiting for her to come home. Maybe that would fix her wagon. It would certainly shock the hell out of her. She knew I'd done a few wild things, like smoking weed and maybe petting with boys, but she thought I was a virgin. With a capital V. This would be a far-fucking-out way to break the news to her.

In a moment Uncle Roy came back into the room by himself. He sat down on a chair across the room from mine, pretending not to be watching me. I slouched in the chair, letting my legs thrust out, their slim curves an unmistakable reminder of how slickly they'd wrapped around him a little earlier.

"Where's Mom?" I asked, finally breaking the silence.

"She went up to dress for dinner. We're going out."

"Oh." I smiled. "It takes her hours to get ready for anything. Wanna try for a quickie while you're waiting?"

He looked green. I jumped out of the chair and pounced across the room. A few kisses on the face and neck, a few feels on the chest, and then my hands closed in on his dick. It took me maybe half a minute to get it romping hard inside his pants and the two of us began to fight for control of his zipper.

"Knock it off!" he barked at me, so sternly I felt as if I'd just been slapped. I began to pout again, lower lip stuck way out and up, till it almost touched the tip of my nose.

"Look here," he went on, "I told you already – what happened this afternoon just happened. It won't happen again, and that's a promise. If I have anything to do with it, I won't even see you again till you've grown up and gotten some sense and decency. God knows you can use both of them."

"Oh, fuck you," I snarled, picking myself up off the floor. I twitched and wiggled back to my chair, reminding him of what a nice piece of ass he was missing out on, and I sat down. At about that time Mom came into the room.

I think I hated her even more right then. Why couldn't she be a dowdy matron like every other decent woman of her age? When I saw her in the doorway, it only made me realize how much more beautiful she was than me.

Mom is thirty-eight, as of her last birthday, and, to be vulgar but accurate, she is a fucking knockout. Her face is mature and gorgeous, with big, big eyes that seem to hypnotize you, and she wears her hair shoulder-length and shimmery. She's auburn-haired, like Daddy before his fell out, and I guess it was just luck that made me so blonde.

Mom was wearing an outrageously slinky, sexy dress up jumpsuit. It didn't have any sleeves, so her arms were bare and slim and tanned just enough to make tern glow, and it was cut rather deeply to show off her cleavage. The material was black and satiny, and though the legs were wide and flowing, they shifted with her movements and really demonstrated the intriguing curves of her long legs. She's tall, taller than I am, nearly as tall as Uncle Roy when she has on her heels, and she's built like a model, except for her tits. They're round and thrusting, firm even at thirty-eight, though they jiggle provocatively when she walks. She really is a good-looking lady and I could almost understand why Uncle Roy preferred to screw around with her instead of me. I could understand, but I couldn't forgive.

She wasn't wearing a Goddamned thing under her jumpsuit. Her big nipples thrust out at the bodice and when she moved, the fabric lifted into her crotch so boldly it must have been teasing hell out of her clitty. My beaver would have been dripping by now, if I'd been her.

But I wasn't. And when Uncle Roy rose from his chair, it was Mom he went to, not me. He took her in his arms and looked her up and down, and he said, "Carrie, you're incredible! My God, I think you're even lovelier than the first time I saw you, all, those years ago."

"It wasn't so long," she said. "In fact, it seems like only yesterday." And she blushed, so heart-tuggingly I wanted to puke. She let him kiss her on that blush and then she looked at me with a good old Mom-type smile. "Jenni, we'll be gone for hours. Lock up when you go to bed. Okay?" I faked a cheery nod, and they went out, holding hands, walking on air, and I was so full of hate I couldn't bear to watch them go.

You're crazy! I told myself as I slouched in the chair watching television and belting tequila straight. The liquor had a fiery kick that warmed up my guts and I felt like a Tijuana whore on her Sunday break.

And I wasn't crazy, either. I was hung on Uncle Roy. He could throw a fuck that made a girl feel like a woman grown, and I could still feel his sharp teeth chewing on my titties, making me whine in glee. And now, to see him puppying around Mom, to think of her being nearly as gruesome in her response – he didn't care for me at all. He'd only balled me because I caught him at a weak moment. It was her he wanted.

"The bastard," I said out loud, but it didn't make me feel better. "The lousy bastard."

I wasn't in love with him, not a bit. I liked him, of course, and had even when I was a little girl. But what I was really interested in was the terrific way he fucked.

If I could just get him alone for a couple of hours – that was all I needed. Sure, Mom's good-looking, but she's an old lady. As far as guys are concerned, the younger, the better. Why should I have so much trouble getting what I wanted? It wasn't fair.

I turned off the TV and went up to my room. Restlessly lying on the bed in my skin and tan, I smoked a cigarette and grooved on the tequila I'd belted.

My hand stale down to rub over the pale fuzz on my crotch. There wasn't a Goddamned thing wrong with my pussy. It was plump and cute, the lips pink, the interior as tight as a pussy ought to be. When I was turned on, the juices dripped out of me free and flowing. Like now. I stroked my box with two fingers, one sliding between the labes, the other tickling the outer flanges, and as I brushed across my clit a few times, I felt those juices begin to really flow. A nice, tingling sense of warmth and well-being occupied my cunt and I wondered why the rest of me felt so Goddamned uptight and out of sorts.

Easy enough to remedy that. I took my last puff on the cigarette, crushed it out, and dived into my snatch with both hands. One set of fingers spread the pink pussy-flaps wide, baring the red mouth of my cunt, while the rest of my fingers began to strum and tickle.

I could feel my nails scratching the flesh of my inner labes, but it didn't hurt. On the other hand entirely, it made me smile for the first time this evening. I scratched a little harder, this time taking care to plant a few scrapes on the steadily rising bud of my clit. Prodded so, it erected all the faster, puffing into my fingers like a sprouting bean, and I tweaked it hello.

The heel of my palm rested on the mouth of my pussy and I could hear the squishing sounds its pressure made as my wetness increased. There was a nice smell, too, wafting out of my moistening hole, and I sniffed in appreciation.

By now my cunt was wet and juicy, ready for play. So I made three fingers into a tight-clenched bunching prong and stuck them up my cunt, twisting from side to side as I worked them farther up my hole. That was really nice! The lips of my cunt spread graciously, and though the clumped fingers didn't quite have the bulk of Uncle Roy's dick, they beat hell out of having an empty pussy, tonight of all times. I pushed till the fingers were buried in my hole and the elastic lips of my box snuggled in close around them, and I tried to use the tips to tickle the end of my cunt, the way Uncle Roy's cock had done during our one and only fuck-session.

It wouldn't work. They weren't long enough. Scratch that nifty idea. I let them slide back down my snatch, the tips resting just inside the pussy-flaps. What a fucking bummer, anyway! I'd been fucked to a faretheewell today and I was damned sure that my fingers just couldn't compete while the memory was still so strong inside me.

While thinking it over, I removed the hand that had been splitting my gash for easy finger entrance. It wasn't needed now that my cunt-hole was pleasantly plugged. I brought it up to my chest and began to fondle both my tits, working back and forth. First the left nipple, teasing and pinching, then the right nipple, and it got the same treatment. I don't play favorites.

The trouble was, when I started thinking consciously, I found myself wondering what Mom and Uncle Roy were doing. What were they up to?

"Oh, fuck it!" I said out loud, sitting up. I didn't want to think about them any more. Quickly I began to diddle my box, fingers stabbing through my gash, into the boiling mouth of my pussy. I dug deeply, crooking my finger when it was buried, and my tits rose and fell faster with the tempo of my breathing, but I could feel the good mood starting to pass from me.

With a sigh, I pulled my fingers out of my twat and got up to get another cigarette, and – my fucking luck – found I was out. Then I remembered that I had bought an extra pack and left them in my coat. I bounced to the wardrobe and began to shuffle through the hanging clothes.

In the process one of my feet slid on a throw rug and I stumbled forward, almost bashing my skull on the inner wall of the wardrobe. I cursed in anger as I regained my balance, and it was just then that my hand lit upon something in the dark recesses of the closet.

I pulled it out, shaking my head in surprise. Good Lord! When I was nine or ten, I'd gone through a spell of fascination with being a majorette. I used to practice twirling with my own junior-size baton, and I really hated the girls who got chosen over me as majorettes for the local junior-league football team. How long had the Goddamned thing been gathering dust in the back of the wardrobe? Three or four years at least. I'd forgotten about having it.

The memories sparked inside me and, half-drunk, I began to prance around the room naked, clumsily twirling, my lips tra-la-laing "The Stars and Stripes Forever". Even when I was interested, I couldn't majorette for shit, and I wasn't doing that well now. In the end I fell onto my bed, laughing, still holding the baton, my fist wrapped tightly around its bigger end knob.

Cold it was, but as my hand warmed it, the baton head began to feel exactly like a throbbing cock. That was a giggle. I brought it to my mouth and kissed it lovingly, but there was no response from the baton.

"Well, fuck you," I told it, letting it fall by my side. I picked it up again almost as soon as I'd dropped it. Hmmmm. No, the larger knob wouldn't fit into my mouth. It was far too big. How about my snatch? How would it feel to have something like this jammed into my cunt? I spread my twat-lips to their widest, and I bathed the rubbery knob in my cunt-juice, but it was no go.

"Shit." Wait! Only one end of the baton had an enormous rubber head adornment. The other tip had only a little rubber cap. I reversed the baton in my hands and began to tease my cunt with the end.

MMMM!! That felt goooadddd! My snatch was greasy already and the rubber knob slid past the labes and right inside my hole. I shoved it, raising my ass from the bed as I took it all the way, and I couldn't repress a shriek when I felt it graze the end of my cunt. Something seemed to throb inside me, all the way from crown to toes, and it didn't stop throbbing when I pulled the baton back for a breather.

Roy had a thicker shaft, and hotter, too, but that baton was doing okay, let me tell you! I grabbed it with both hands, stuffed it as far up my cunt as it would go, then began to revolve it just like a farm girl chums butter. It did the trick in my churn, though it produced cream in me, cream that dripped and oozed from my little pink twat-lips and bubbled in my muff.

I could close my eyes then, and imagine that it was Roy fucking me again. "Yes," I panted, "give it to me hard! Oh, you son of a bitch! Fuck harder!"

And I was getting it harder. The baton swished in and out of my hole, prodding my cunt as deeply as any girl could ever be prodded, and my ass kept bouncing off the bed to meet the swift in-strokes. I didn't have to use my hands. The muscles of my cunt were clenching and unclenching by themselves, sucking the baton in, spitting it out. And the big knob jutted up into the air from between my lifted knees, and it wobbled, too, like the cock of an anxious lover on his way to your bed. I took my hands away and let my pussy control the action, grabbing double fistfuls of my tits.

I squeezed and dug into the firm little mounds, my fingers catching nipples between knuckles and grinding together to make me squeal in delight. I'd have scars and scratches in the morning, but it wasn't morning yet.

My ass lunged and bucked and rocked on the bed. The baton slid up my twat, retreated, then lurched home once more. It was an incredible feeling, to know that the muscles of my snatch were strong enough to dildo me so beautifully. I could have experimented with them, sure, but I wasn't in the mood to experiment. I just wanted it now, hard and fast.

In another moment my cunt muscles weren't giving it to me hard enough or fast enough. I let go of one tit, still grabbing at the other with all my might, and I seized the baton handle, shoving it so far into my cunt the tip should have been stuck inside my throat. I let out a scream that could have been heard in Toledo, and then I lay shivering on the bed, unable to move freely. The shock waves of a massive come rippled through me, over me, around me, battering my body with its force and flogging me brutally with spasms of ecstasy.

I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't see. With the last remnant of energy in me I jerked the baton out of my cunt – the way I was twitching I could easily rupture myself with the fucking thing. It slid from my spanning hole with a squishy pop, rasping the raw lips of my slice, and I seemed to enter a whole new world of coming when the sensation transmitted through my body. I twisted and turned on the bed, pulling my legs up, hugging them against me, and all I could do was sob and purr through my tears.

Wet? I could have filled a couple of Mason jars with the cunt-cream that had poured from my gash and soaked the bed where I lay. My pussy was still sopping, though I could hardly bear to touch it. It felt as if the outer protective layer of skin had been ripped away, exposing the nerves and the raw flesh beneath. My tits were sore, too, the nipples still sticking out a mile, their rubbery extensions too tender to squeeze even in fun. Sweat had formed enormously in my armpits and in the backs of my knees, and I smelled like a well-fucked bitch. The aroma of me was warm, acrid, strong from my perspiration, even stronger from the odor of my tart pussy-juice. I closed my eyes and sniffed, filling my nose with the musky fragrance.

God! I thought suddenly. Had Mom and Uncle Roy come in while I was diddling myself? Unlikely. I'd been screaming my ass off, there towards the end, and if they'd heard me, surely they'd have come to investigate. Just for certainty's sake I opened my mouth and screamed again, a wailing cry that made my throat twinge in pain. But no one tapped at my door, and I knew I was still alone in the house. Time, then, for a fresh cigarette.

I'd taken maybe three or four drags when I doubled up in agony on the bed. My kidneys were killing me – I had to piss like I couldn't believe – and I didn't think I could walk the ten or twelve steps from my bed to my bathroom.

I grabbed my cunt, plugging the dike with my palm, and I staggered towards the bathroom door. Every step was a fresh helping of agony, and I could feel little droplets of piss dampening my hand as I fought a desperate battle.

In the end I made it. I flopped onto the john, grunted, and let go. My kidneys strained and struggled to empty, and the piss streamed like rain into the toilet bowl. It was so obscenely loud and vulgar a sound I couldn't keep myself from laughing, but it also felt so Goddamned good to let it flow. I reached down to touch my cunt while I pissed. My fingers got stinky-wet but they found my clit, too, and rolled upon it slickly. Each touch sent a twinge of delightful pain hammering up my body and I sat jerking and twitching on the commode as I called up one last come this night. My piss ceased to flow, but my twat-juices were streaming from my gash again, and my finger was abusing the already-ravaged slice between my legs, and I sat gasping and cackling till my head reeled and my vision began to blur.

Before I crawled under the sheets, I set my alarm clock for seven in the morning. Mom wouldn't get out of bed before nine if her life depended on it, I was positive, and, since I figured Uncle Roy would be going back to New York tomorrow, I wanted to see him privately one last time. I fell asleep thinking about how nice that private meeting would be, for both of us.