Ron Taylor
Hot for dad

CHAPTER ONE

Cheryl rapped on the door but there was no answer. Taking for granted her right to do so, she opened the door and stepped inside. "Hello!" she sang. "It's your friendly neighborhood typing service!" Under her arm was an envelope full of final draft copy.

Ed Bogart appeared at the head of the stairs.

He was shirtless, his chest broad and hairy. Cheryl could just make out the USMC tattoo he'd picked up in Seoul, '56, but she didn't have to see it. She knew it by heart. "I didn't hear you," he said in his rich deep voice – he'd have been perfect for radio, in the old days, before it became a vehicle for commercials and disco music. "You've finished already?"

"Finished and perfect," Cheryl said, starting up the steps to join him. "Double-spaced, margined, and carbon ribboned – courtesy of Cheryl and her Selectric. I even corrected the spelling errors. Most of them, at least. You know, it amazes me that a man of your stature in the world of letters can't spell worth a damn. They can't all be typos."

"They're not," he said. "I'm a functional illiterate." He took the envelope. "And how much do I owe you, Cheryl, love?"

Cheryl Haskins scratched her chin for a moment, pretending to be rapt in thought. "Well," she said, "you could start with a big, wet kiss – if the coast is clear."

He put his hands on her hips and pulled her up the last step. She joined him on the landing where he stood and their bodies melted together. Cheryl was a tall, lithe girl, but she had to tilt her head ever so slightly to bring her mouth into position. It was a tilt worth making. His lips slammed down upon hers, open and wet as per her request, and she opened her own mouth to give his tongue free rein. It snaked into her mouth, where she caught it for sucking, and at the same time she locked her arms around him, allowing his bare chest to experience the thrusting fullness of the firm tits which were bound only by a clingy knit halter.

Their crotches ground together as they embraced, and Cheryl rotated hers in a provocative twist which made his dick tremble with interest inside his pants. She pressed him more tightly to let his growing hardness caress her tight crotch, and she was certain that beneath his trousers Ed wore nothing.

"That was pretty good for a start," she admitted breathlessly, their lips parting. "But it doesn't cover the entire bill."

"What would you suggest for the next installment?" Ed worked his groin against her once more, giving Cheryl another thrilling rub with his hardening cock. She reached between his legs, her fingers testing the lumping bulge in his pants.

"This, maybe," she said thoughtfully, her fingertips seizing upon the protuberant tip and squeezing it with wanton invitation. "But, like I said, if the coast is clear."

"Let me put this in the office," he replied, "and we'll start coast-watching – in the bedroom."

She looked through the door while he took her manuscript package to his desk and placed it beside his battered Olivetti portable. No wonder he needed a professional typist to put his scripts into shape, she thought. The Olivetti looked and typed as if it had been through half a dozen wars. Which it had. Ed had carried it with him as an essential part of his field gear in Lebanon, Suez, the Congo, Cuba, and every other hot spot of the last twenty years or so. The carriage was out of line, some keys were so bent they refused to type at all, and unless he pulled on the ribbon from time to time, it refused to advance. So much the better for me, Cheryl thought. If he hadn't needed someone to type his manuscripts I'd never have met him.

It couldn't last. Ed was only renting this place for the summer. By Labor Day he'd be nothing but a memory to be stored in Cheryl Haskins' book of memories. Ah, but a whole chapter! At the very least!

She could scarcely believe lucking out today, too! Usually their meetings had to be circumspect and careful. Ed's daughter was staying here with him, a pretty but shy girl of eighteen, and Ed, who had faced bullets all around the world, seemed scared shitless of this little Sibyl finding out that he had some beddy-bye action going on the side.

He took Cheryl's hand and led her into the bedroom. The sheets were rumpled from his last night's sleep, giving the place a deliciously sexy ambiance. One of Cheryl's favorite fantasies was that she was a whore, giving sex to man after man on a busy Saturday night, and the sight of an unmade bed made her pussy drip in excitement. Particularly when, as now, she knew that she was in imminent danger of being fucked silly on that same bed.

"Strip," Ed commanded, indulging her fantasy.

He unsnapped a button on his slacks, undid his belt, and let the pants fall to his feet. Just as she'd expected! He was bare as a baby underneath. But what baby ever sported a jiggling, hard eight inches of cock. Cheryl stopped in the act of undoing her halter. The flaps fell aside, baring her brown-tipped boobs, and she dropped to her knees, hands fumbling after his dick.

"Wanna suck it first," she moaned, each word separated from its successor by the swipes of her tongue on his hot, red prick. His hands came down to trap the fat points of her nipples and he began to pinch them while she tongued him. Cheryl sighed between licks, feeling her tits becoming firmer and harder with each twist of his fingertips, and she couldn't wait any longer. Opening her mouth wide, she brought it down over the point of his cock. He lunged into her as she began to suck and his cock seemed to thrust itself into the upper reaches of her throat.

Cheryl fought the urge to gag and she concentrated on sucking instead. Her head angled away from him, causing most of his prick to slide free, and she locked her teeth behind the enormous cock-head. As she sucked it furiously, like a lollipop, her tongue scrubbed it with quick scraping passes that made him throb in spite of his experience. She was good and she knew it. If she'd wanted, she could have fucked the tip of his prick with her tongue, tickling the slitted opening till he couldn't resist and let his cum roll into her mouth. But she didn't – sucking was only a turn-on, as if either of them needed it. He was hard for her and she was dripping for him. The oozy wetness already seeped from her gash, and she'd barely begun to undress. God, she dug him!

He was a gorgeous man, big and sexy and dripping with masculinity. He had money, he'd traveled everywhere, he'd been the most widely published war correspondent of the day, and now he was turning into a best-selling writer of adventure fiction. Cheryl had never been more than a hundred miles from home. She'd never seen an ocean – a real, white-capped, blue ocean, just pictures – and she'd never been to a foreign country and she'd never interviewed Fidel Castro. But for the past two weeks, as often as possible, she'd been bedroom – tight with someone who'd done all those things and so many more she couldn't remember. It was almost the next best thing to being cosmopolitan herself, and besides her whore fantasy, Cheryl liked to pretend that Ed Bogart dug her as much as she dug him – that he was on the verge of asking her to give up the dull, sedate life of Albany, Ohio, and join him as he roved the world in search of adventure and news copy.

Join him, she thought, sucking his cock like a maniac. Join him and his precious, sheltered daughter. The dream deflated like an untied balloon and all she had left was his prick in her mouth. But if it was all she had, she could make use of it while she had it. Cheryl sucked him harder, faster, till she was certain he was about to come in her mouth, and then she slacked off immediately. His cock popped from her lips, red, raw-looking where she had caressed it with her tongue, and she saw the bubbles of saliva she had left upon his stiffened flesh.

She sank back onto her heels, wiggling out of her halter, offering him her tits, bare and free. They were big, firm breasts, as nice as any in Albany – or the rest of the country, too, for that matter. Plenty of boys had been content, during her high school days about six years ago, to suck on those breasts for the whole course of an evening date. She could orgasm if her tits were nibbled and licked in just the right way, but with Ed she didn't have to worry about it. He knew the right way. Even better, he knew it and didn't have to utilize it. He could have any part of her body without asking, and it would be ecstasy for both of them.

Ed stooped down and picked her up in his strong arms. Once in Cambodia he'd carried a three-hundred-pound government general who was wounded horribly, over a mile from a battlefield. Cheryl felt like a feather in his grip as he brought her to the bed and set her on the mattress. She preened and twisted for him, showing him the swelling curve of her breasts, profiling so he could see how her nipples pushed outward in wanton erection, and then he was skinning the tight jeans from her body as effortlessly as a veteran trapper de-hides a mink.

Under the slacks she was naked, her pussy open and wet from anticipation. In the winter she was hairy as a bear between the legs, but this was summer, bikini weather, hot pants weather, and it was so gauche to have pubic curls sticking out of tight, high-cut legbands. With scissors and Daisy she had trimmed her beaver so that only a narrow fringe remained bordering her cunt. Ed lay down beside her, his body reversed, and he dipped his tongue into the juncture of her groin and thighs. Carefully, teasingly, he licked the shaven areas, tickling the little stubble's of hair that Cheryl shaved every week or so. She could feel the short, wiry tendrils vibrating as he stimulated them, and her pussy began to leak profusely in sympathetic reaction. Cheryl closed her eyes and said "Ohhhhh," a long, drawled sigh that died away for a moment and then returned in a sudden gasped "OHHHH!!" when Ed's tongue left her shaven edges and jabbed its way between the lips of her hot, moist cunt.

He fucked her with his mouth, spearing into her pussy again and again, till she couldn't keep her ass from heaving excitedly nor her hands from clutching at his short, curling hair. Her cunt was a dripping swamp and his tongue an alligator swimming with the arrogance of one who is master of all he surveys.

Her clit was as hard as her nipples, which she squeezed eagerly between caresses of his head, but Ed seemed uncaring. If he licked her sex trigger during one of his languid passes in her hole, then he licked it. He didn't go out of his way to suck her button, and the nonchalance of his approach thrilled her more than if he had seized it between his lips and sucked it raw.

"Stop," she whimpered, "please stop that. I want you to fuck me now, darling, please, please!"

But he didn't stop. He pried apart her cuntlips and thrust his face into the opening. His mouth and chin rocked in the pink slickness of her cunt, and now his oral attack seemed to center suddenly upon her clit, as if he had only just realized that it had not received its share of attention. His fingers ground together upon her sensitive fleshy bump – she was positive she could hear the tissues squeak in protest – but the contact was swift and fleeting. Cheryl barely had time to scream in a mixture of joy and agony before he was kissing and licking away the pain he had caused her, and the reconciliation was so sweet she forgave the abuse.

"Oh, do it again, you bastard," she sighed in a voice of almost, angelic lightness.

He did it again, add there was nothing angelic about the way his mouth attacked her cunt, unless it might be the heavenly wooziness that rippled through Cheryl's head and chest. She brought her hands to her tits, caressing and squeezing the jiggly mounds and their hard, brown points. Each time she tightened her fingers upon a nipple, a shimmer of sensation danced through her body, and she began to squeeze harder, faster.

Ed wriggled closer to Cheryl, and through the corner of one eye she could see his big red cock shaking, so near, so near. She wanted to grab it, to stuff it into her mouth and suck its tip off, to make it drown her with a hot, roaring flood of jism. But she also wanted him to fuck her, to feel him upon her body, thrusting his prick into her eager cunt, to enfold him with her legs and pull him inside till his cock rammed into the opening of her womb.

Moisture shone on the purple tip of his cock. He was exuding juice, wetting himself in preparation for spilling his cum. Cheryl knew that his fluids were tart and sweet to taste, that his cock, quivered in a certain way when she tongued away those pre-coital juices, working her tongue on his cum slit in an effort to summon up more of them. One of her hands unclasped on the tit it cupped, and fingers flashed in the air as she made contact with Ed's ready prick.

He was obliging. He scooted even closer, his face still smothered between her legs, and Cheryl could touch his cock with her mouth, providing she twisted her neck at just the right angle. Her throat muscles ached but only for a second as she lifted her shoulder and teased the head of Ed Bogart's cock with the smooth moisture of her lips.

Now he was cooperating like a considerate lover. He pushed toward her, shifting his body into a new position. Or perhaps not such a new position, since the 69 is at least half as old as mankind itself. Cheryl sighed in relief as he crawled atop her in a hunching crouch that forced his cock between her eager, open lips, and then she began to suck on him.

He prodded her in a series of deep, hard strokes that made her mouth and jaws ache in delight. She loved it when men were ever so slightly rough with her. She liked to be dominated if it was all in fun, or at least mostly in fun. Like now. If she demonstrated the least bit of discomfort, why, Ed would immediately remove his cock from her mouth, crawl off her and stretch out beside her, happy to pet and kiss away her upset. Wouldn't he?

He thrust so deeply she thought he was trying to fill her lungs as well as her mouth. Cheryl's eyes popped open, full of stinging water. She couldn't breathe! He was killing her with her choking cock!

But the insistent action of his tongue in Cheryl's cunt was a distracting feature so strong she couldn't resist. Her throat forced itself to adjust to the barrel of his dick and she found that it wasn't so bad, after all. Indeed, the bulky presence of his fat, thick cock was no longer an imposition. Rather, it was titillation. She could feel her salvia rivering around his insertion, soaking his prick from its tip to where he sprouted from her lips. Cheryl's jaws tightened, her cheeks sucked in, and she began to love him furiously with her mouth.

Ed lifted and thrust, pumping into her sucking maw with his cock, at the same time licking the hell out of her scarlet cunt and throbbing clit. Cheryl moaned and whimpered both from the fury of his mouth fucking and from the expert slithering of his tongue on her intimate sexuality.

She wanted him to fuck her with his hot, hard prick, to ram it up her hungry pussy, but if this was how he wanted it, okay. For this time.

Again and again he brought her to the precipice of orgasm, each time slacking off at just the climatic moment, an instant before she would have burst into sopping life and drenched his mouth with her juices. Cheryl felt her cuntlips growing raw and swollen, just as her clit hummed with the repressed excitement she couldn't quite express. But each time Ed caught her trigger with his tongue and licked it, and pulled it, and kissed its whining tip, she found herself teetering more irrevocably on the edge of climax. When she creamed, it was going to be a hot, wet one, and she could hardly wait.

She made her mouth a greasy, cylindrical tunnel for his cock, and he plunged into her relentlessly as he mouthed her cunt. Cheryl's hands caressed the hairy cheeks of Ed's ass while he rose and fell atop her head. She had only to fuck him orally and vaginally. He was doing all the work. Cheryl's domination fantasies were in full blossom.

Without warning, he came into her mouth, almost drowning her with the thick fluid of his cum. She gasped, sucked, swallowed, while his cock kept thrusting in to dump out more of the stuff. God, she couldn't drink it all! There was too much! Ed was squirting as if his cock had been stopped up for weeks. But he always came in big, man-sized loads, and Cheryl adored that. Her throat ached from the strain of swallowing and taking the continued jabs and she simply allowed the collected jism to flaw in a sticky river from the corner of her mouth. It was hot on her flesh, even hotter in her mouth, and sweeter than sugar on the tip of her tongue. She sucked at his cock to keep it stiff, but he pulled it from her oral grip all the same.

Which was a good idea, for when he began to lick her pussy once more, it was with a driving determination that sent Cheryl almost at once into a wailing orgasm marked by groans and cries and gnashing of teeth. She thanked God that Ed's cock was no longer trapped in her mouth, for her facial and oral contortions could have hurt him, and then she surrendered to the release her body craved so hungrily.

"Do we have lime to do it again?" she asked him about ten minutes later. Her hand was stroking his still-hard cock, his fingers playing lightly around the swollen, slippery pussy lips. His hands were big, like his prick, but they were surprisingly gentle. Especially now, when Ed softly inserted his middle finger into Cheryl's recently fucked cunt. She moaned, her mouth forming an O of delighted surprise, and she left a print of that O in lipstick on his face.

"As many times as you want," he laughed, "or as many times as I can get it up." She'd never known him to have the least trouble getting hard, and she laughed with him. One of her legs slid across his lap and she petted the inside of her thigh with the warm purple knob of his cock.

"What about Sibyl?" she asked. The girl was the only real difficulty in the relationship Cheryl had cultivated with Ed. Her lover was so uptight about his daughter, afraid that she'd be pissed off or shocked or something to find out that Daddy was enjoying a roll in the hay. My God, Cheryl thought, when I was her age, I knew the facts of life!

It was more than that, of course. Ed felt that he'd neglected Sibyl during her childhood, farming her out to relatives and to convent schools while he traipsed the globe in search of wars to report. Now, he said, he was back in the states for good, hiding out in the boondocks while he finished two spy novels based on his adventures. He and Sibyl were just beginning to know one another as daddy and daughter, and he didn't want to queer the relationship. By, Cheryl thought, showing his daughter that he was a normal man with a normal man's needs and desires. It was hypocritical in its way, she supposed, but it wasn't her business to debate him on the subject. Her was only to enjoy the summer he was spending in Albany.

"She'll be away for the rest of the day," Ed smiled. "Doing candy stripe volunteer work at the hospital."

Right on! thought Cheryl. For once I don't have to worry about Sibyl turning a dreamy fuck into a sloppy quickie.