Frank Brown
Wild naughty daughter

CHAPTER ONE

The stores hadn't even opened on Main Street, and already the early-summer day was sweltering. Sally had to run on tiptoe quickly across the asphalt at each intersection to the relative coolness of the concrete on the next sidewalk, although even the sidewalks were getting too hot to walk on barefooted.

She really should have worn shoes, she knew, but she'd gone barefoot and had worn her tightest, skimpiest shorts and blouse in the hopes that when she reached the First Baptist Church were her mother was waiting, her mother would turn red-faced with shock at her indecent manner of dress and send her straight home again instead of making her stay around to help serve coffee and doughnuts to the women's group, of which her mother was chairwoman. On her first day of summer of vacation, Sally couldn't bear the thought of spending the morning catering to a bunch of tittering, gossipy, self-righteous women.

She could already see them looking up and down, appraising her. They'd ask her how school had gone this yew. Had she gotten good grades? Wasn't her hair getting just a bit too long? Her mother, of course, who'd been complaining about the length of her hair for months now, would send her straight to the salon to get it hacked off church-woman length.

It wasn't fair. Why shouldn't she be able to grow her hair any length she wanted to? Her brother Mark could do anything and get away with it. He could grow his hair any length, stay out late at night, take girls to drive-in movies – anything. Dad stuck up for Mark, but he let Mom slave-drive her however she wanted to. It was as if Mark belonged to Dad, and she to Mom. Mark could even skip church and Sunday School half the time.

And Dad even skipped church sometimes. Sally knew Dad didn't believe all that Baptist crap that Mom was always fantatically trying to live up to, and trying to stuff down her throat. If Mom kept this up, one of these days, Sally was going to run away.

A car passed by slowly, the boys inside whistling and whooping. They asked Sally if she wanted a ride, but she just stuck her tongue out at them and kept walking. They laughed crazily and squealed off.

Dumb boys! Why wouldn't they ever leave her alone? She couldn't step out the door and walk two blocks without some boy going by in a car and yelling something dirty at her. All they wanted to do was get into her pants. Even Mark looked at her sometimes like he wanted to get into her pants – her own brother! Well, they could all go jump in the lake. No boy was going to get into her pants until she was good and ready for it.

When will you ever be ready for it? a disturbing voice deep inside herself asked. You know that almost all the other girls at school have had boys between their legs, or so they've claimed or implied. Do you want to be the last one to spread your legs for a boy? How much longer are you going to let Mommie's rules control your life? Do you want to end up a Baptist church-woman, spending your days in a church basement eating coffee and doughnuts and gossiping about all the sinners outside?

Sally's heart pounded. She started trotting. The sooner she got to the church, barefooted and half-naked, the sooner her mother would blow up and send her back home. Maybe on the way back home those boys in the red car would pass her again – but this time she just might take that offered ride.

A block ahead was Lipman's Department Store, the largest business in town, and a block beyond Lipman's was the First Baptist Church. It was appropriate that the biggest store in town should be so close to the largest church, because George Lipman, owner of the store, was not only the church's major contributor, but head of the Board of Directors of First Baptist as well. The Lipman name was the biggest name in town. There were people in town who might not know the name of the current mayor, but everybody in town – including the five-year olds – knew the name Lipman. And people came from hundreds of miles away to shop at the famed Lipman's Department Store, which was known throughout the state because of the store's slick television ads, some of which featured George Lipman himself.

Sally crossed the street in front of Lipman's, wincing as the softening asphalt stuck to her bare toes. She danced on the sidewalk, cursing under her breath, and was about to continue on a good clip when movement behind the large glass doors at the grand main entrance of Lipman's caught her eye. A chubby, greasy-looking man was hanging a large sign on the inside of one of the doors. Sally couldn't believe her eyes. In large bold black letters were printed the words: SALESGIRL WANTED.

Sally froze where she stood, astonished. A job at Lipman's was every girl's dream in this town. Every girl's dream only because George Lipman hired only female salespeople – usually of high school or college age. The wages he paid were the envy of many professional people, and the bonuses were many and generous. The prestige of having a job at Lipman's was as great as being on the high school cheerleading team. Jobs hardly ever came open, were never advertised in the newspaper, and Lipman's accepted no advance applications for future jobs that might come open. The rumor was that announcements of openings were passed on by word of mouth from girls who already worked there. Sally stared up at the big sign shaking and almost sick to her stomach. Here was the greatest opportunity she'd ever stumbled onto – a job at Lipman's. But she was dressed like a slut. They wouldn't let her in the door this way, let alone allow her to fill out an application. She wished she were dead.

The short, chubby man was staring at her through the glass door. He had his hands on his hips and a slight frown on his face, a frown Sally could make out even though from this distance she couldn't make out the man's features too well. From his posture he seemed to be saying: Get away, you dirty little streetwalker!

Sally started to turn away when the man suddenly pushed the door open.

"Interested in the position, young lady?" the man called.

Sally couldn't speak for a few moments, then managed to stammer, "Well, yes."

"Come in then, girl, before I wilt in this heat." The man held the door open as Sally stumbled up the concrete steps and slipped past him into the foyer. He then took down the sign he'd just hung up, and opened the inner glass doors and ushered her into the store, which wouldn't be open for business for another twenty minutes or so.

"Follow me, darling."

Sally moved in a daze through the air conditioned store, following none other than the man she now recognized as George Lipman himself. He wore shiny black shoes, black trousers and a white shirt, open at the neck and with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He looked fatter, balder, and older than he did on television. Greasy black hairs were combed across his bald scalp on top. He wheezed slightly as he walked and smelled of deodorant. They passed the glittering Jewelry Department, Ladies' Clothing, and the perfumes. They went around the large fountain at the center of the store. George Lipman led Sally into an elevator. Before the door closed, one of the few other people in the store – a girl Sally recognized as a junior from school – greeted Mr. Lipman.

"Good morning, my dear," Mr. Lipman said. "I'm glad to see you here so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on your first full-time day."

The girl giggled. "I got here a little early just in case you needed me to do a little extra work for you, Mr. Lipman."

"Why, thank you, my dear, but not this morning. I'm most appreciative of the thought, though."

On the way up in the elevator, Mr. Lipman stroked Sally's hair.

"So fine," he said. "Like spun gold. And you've grown it almost to your waist."

"I'll get it cut right away," Sally blurted.

"Cut? You'll do no such thing, young lady. I mean, it must have taken you years to grow it so long, and it would be a crime to cut it now." The elevator opened at the top floor, and Mr. Lipman let Sally exit first.

He led her down a carpeted hallway, past several offices, but didn't enter the large waiting room of the office labeled: George Lipman, President. Instead, he unlocked an unmarked door farther down the hallway, and showed Sally inside. The room was more of a lounge than an office, resembling a well-furnished living room. There was an intercom in it, though, which Mr. Lipman touched.

"Maxine, absolutely no interruptions, please, until I've finished some pressing business."

"Yes, sir," came Maxine's reply.

"Shall we be seated, my dear?" Mr. Lipman said, indicating the plush couch.

Sally sat down and felt self-conscious under the eyes of Mr. Lipman, who stood over her. She crossed her bare legs.

"Relax," Mr. Lipman said. He suddenly dropped down to his knees in front of her. He put his sweaty hands on her knees and uncrossed her legs, spreading spreading them. "There now, don't you feel more relaxed? I always like my girls to be relaxed. And your name is?"

"Sally Myers."

"Sally. Now isn't that a sweet name? I'm George Lipman, if you haven't guessed. You may have seen me on TV?"

"Oh sure, everybody knows who you are, Mr. Lipman."

The man smiled. "Yes, they do, unfortunately. Well, Sally, I'd like you to call me George whenever we're alone together – but only then. At all other times you are to call me Mr. Lipman. We need a salesgirl for the Sporting Goods Department. Full time now, although once school starts again, I realize you'll have to go to part-time. Have you had any experience with sporting goods or as a sales clerk?"

Sally felt faint. "No, I'm afraid not."

George gave her a deadpan expression, then started to shake his head. Sally tensed to receive the bad news.

"Fine," George said. "Can you begin this morning?"

Sally thought she was hearing things. She couldn't speak.

"You're hired, my dear. Can you begin this morning?"

"Well, yes," Sally finally said. "Just as soon as I can run home and change clothes."

"No need, darling, we have enough clothing in this store to outfit you daily for ten lifetimes. Let's see, about what size shoe do you wear? No, don't tell me, let me calculate it."

He picked up Sally's left foot and held it as he sat back on his heels. His fingers measured her foot, weighed it, began to caress it and massage it.

"You have beautiful feet, Sally," he breathed harder, wheezing louder. "So beautifully tanned and dirty."

He suddenly raised her foot to his lips and kissed it.

Sally squirmed a little, not knowing what the man was going to do next. George Lipman – "the" George Lipman – had just kissed her grubby bare foot. She must be dreaming!

"Relax, darling, I'm going to give you a cursory physical examination. Very quick. Painless. Quite pleasant, as a matter of fact. It's required of all new female employees, I'm afraid, so just relax." He started to lick her toes.

Sally was shaking. This couldn't be happening! She had the disturbing feeling that George Lipman was going to eat her alive.

George wrapped his fat lips around her toes and started to suck on them. Sally gasped.

She was helpless, unable to move, not knowing if she would move if she could. The sensations flooding her feet from George's hot lips and tongue working on her toes made her want to squeeze her legs together. Her pussylips were puffing up, and the crotch-seam of her tight shorts pulled up between them. Her loins started to throb, and suddenly she wanted desperately to take off her shorts.

George wheezed, his face a bright red, the strands of hair combed over his bald pate falling away and dangling from his temple like limp spaghetti. He lapped at Sally's bare foot, slithering his tongue between her toes. He kissed her foot, gnawed on it. He took up her other foot and began to do the same to it.

"Nothing's better than a barefoot teenage girl," he whispered. "Nothing! Oh, delicious!" He munched on her feet and toes until his spit was dripping off them. Then he started to lick his way up her legs.

"So smooth! You don't even shave them. Downy. Oh lovely!"

He pushed her legs wide apart, leaning between them so he could lick the insides of her thighs.

Sally's heart slammed. She was sweating, her face burning up. Her cunt felt like it would explode. Her legs tingled all the way to the tips of her toes. She had no doubts now that George Lipman was seducing her. She had no doubts that she was helpless to stop him. Nor did she want him to stop. He could do whatever he wanted to her.

He mashed his nose to her crotch, inhaling deeply. "Oh, that smell? Teenage cunt! If I could bottle it, I'd be a billionaire overnight."

He inhaled again and again, as if he'd never get enough of her scent.

Sally was moaning, squirming, wiggling her ass. Her toes wriggled. She didn't know what to do. She just wanted to shove a few fingers up her crotch and jerk herself off quick, before she lost her mind.

George unsnapped and unzipped her shorts. As he pulled them off her ass, Sally raised up automatically to assist him and she pointed her toes as he slipped the shorts off over her feet. He spread her legs wide, opening up her blonde furred pussy. Sally felt the air-conditioned coolness licking the wet pink meat between her pussylips.

"Quick, the shirt!" George panted, and Sally let him whisk off the blouse so fast that three buttons popped off.

She wasn't wearing a bra. The air caressed her completely naked body and she'd never felt more naked in her life. Nobody had ever seen her so exposed before. Two impulses fought within herself – one impulse to curl up and hide herself, the other to open up, to spread her legs even farther, to drape her arms over the top of the couch and leave her tits completely vulnerable to attack. The second impulse won. She'd waited too long for this. She wanted to be taken! Completely!

"Oh my angel!" George muttered deliriously. He leaned close, kissing each of her nipples, then sucking on them.

Sally groaned, thrusting her tits deeper into his mouth, rubbing her bare ass against the plush cushion underneath her. The hot pussyjuice bubbled out of her throbbing, burning crotch. The smell of hot pussy rose in the air like musk-scented steam. As George munched on her tits, her cunt contracted again and again. She'd die unless she either squeezed her legs together or shoved a finger inside herself. The fuck-itch in her crotch was maddening.

"Oh, you luscious girl!" George dripped sweat on her as he slobbered over her. His fat lips nipped and sucked, moving all over her tits, down her smooth belly and flanks. He licked up, tasting her armpits. Then he licked his way down and drove his tongue into her navel. "Oh, you delicious little bitch! You're going to drive me out of my mind!"

Sally was a little shocked by his calling her a bitch, but she was trembling too hard to let the word bother her. She was so worked up that he could have called her every dirty name under the sun and she would have ignored him. He called her a bitch again, talking about how good she smelled, how all teenaged bitches smell alike, and this time she found herself enjoying being called the name, found herself being excited by it. Suddenly George Lipman was licking her crotch, and Sally nearly hit the ceiling.

"Ooooaoh!" she moaned. "Mr. Lipman, oooooh!" She put her hands on his shiny wet scalp, gripping his head tight as she pressed his face between her legs.

The man wheezed, gasped as if he were smothering, growled like a dog, mumbled like a crazy man. He pressed his thumbs into her puffed-up pussy-slabs and pried the slabs apart so he could lick the sizzling red crotchmeat between them. He lapped up and down, slurping up the sweet girl-goo that oozed from deep inside her quivering pleasure-hole.

Sally lost control. She threw her legs up over the man's shoulders, clamped his head between her thighs, writhed madly as she ground her open crotch in the man's face. Her heart slammed so hard she could hardly hear herself think.

"Ohhhh, George, lick it, oh God lick it!" She bounced her ass, fucking her cunt in the man's sucking mouth, feeding him her hot slick juices and her sizzling crotchmeat. The fuck-sensations swarmed in her loins, streamed in all directions through her body, tingling her nipples, prickling her toes.

George Lipman sounded like a man fighting for his last breaths. He was smothering, drowning between her legs. He twisted his head, growling, sucking, eating. He rammed his tongue deep inside her hot teenage crotch, probing all the juicy folds and crevices of her young cunthole. His tongue twisted, wriggled, squirmed, jabbed and Sally saw stars. Never had the sensitive nerves in her fluffy cuntmeat been stimulated like this. Even her asshole streamed inside with hot tingles.

Sally realized that George Lipman had his cock out of his pants and was jerking it off. She knew how men jerked off because she'd more than once spied on her brother Mark as he'd beat off his teenaged cockmeat, and she'd heard the girls at school talk a lot about how boys jerked off. She craned her head to the side, trying to peer under George Lipman's paunch so she could get a look at what he held in his jerking hand. She glimpsed a big, purplish knob, all shiny, with a clear fluid oozing out of it. As the man's fist jerked, he worked some loose skin from his cockmeat back and forth over the knob. The loose skin surprised her. Mark's cock-skin was perfectly tight on his erect cock, but then the skin was tight all over Mark's muscular body. Mr. Lipman's skin sagged on his face and belly, and on the rest of him, so she really shouldn't be surprised to see loose skin on his hard cock. George's big shiny cock-knob and that loose skin were really kind of ugly, kind of creepy, but for some reason Sally found herself being excited even more by the sight of the man's fuck-organ.

"Come on, sweetheart," Mr. Lipman gasped. "Come on, baby! Mmnnnmnnnnn!" He sucked fiercely, eating her up, devouring her pulsating crotchmeat. His tongue stabbed deep inside her, and suddenly Sally was coming.

Her head snapped back. She saw stars. She arched up, driving her cunt into the man's mouth, feeding him her exploding young fuckhole. Mr. Lipman slurped, guzzling down her hot fuckjuices as her pussy contracted again and again. Sally moaned loudly, abandoning herself to the pleasure. Mr. Lipman's tongue and teeth felt electrically charged as they licked and gnawed her spasm-wracked crotch.

Sally finally ground her humping to a halt. She went limp, relaxing completely, sighing long as she experienced a tremendous sense of relief from the fuck-tension. Her legs unwrapped from around the man's head. She was panting hard.

George Lipman pushed himself to his feet. His face was a slimy mess of pussycream and sweat. Some of Sally's blonde cunt-hairs stuck to his lips. His head looked like a red balloon about to burst. He gasped for breath, pounding his cock as if trying to mutilate it. Placing one hand an the backrest of the couch, he leaned toward Sally, pushing his cock close to her face. His hot fucklube dripped on her tits.

"Open your mouth!" he gasped. "Quick!" Sally responded automatically, opening her mouth without thinking, because she'd been told to do so. She saw George's pisshole open wide, saw white fluid begin to spurt out. A hot wad of cum splashed against her check, and George stuffed his cock in her mouth before she could do anything to prevent him. His huge wet fucker filled her mouth, pulsating as his cock ejected more cum. Sally choked as the slimy fluid shot against her tonsils.

George was grunting like a bull, moaning as if in pain. "Drink it! Suck it out, little bitch!" Sally had to swallow to keep from choking on the profuse load of thick fuckcream. The man's cock kept vibrating, kept flexing, kept shooting hot slime down her throat. The taste and aroma of the fluid went to Sally's head like smelling salts and made her head reel with dizziness. The man's cock tasted terrible, but before he was done coming, Sally found herself, munching on it as if it were a tasty slab of roast beef. Not only that, she found herself sucking out the last thick drops of man-cum, disappointed that there was no more coming.

George pulled his cock out. He pushed back, standing unsteadily. His eyes closed, his large paunch rising and failing as he sucked in deep breaths. His cock dangled from the fly of his black trousers, long and fat, wet with Sally's spit, its cockhead nearly covered with a sheath of skin. After several moments, he opened his eyes, then began to unbutton his shirt.

Sally sat there, silent and dumbfounded, but fascinated as he undressed completely in front of her. His body was not only grossly fat, sagging even more than she'd guessed, but covered with black hairs. It would have been enough to scare any girl away, except this wasn't just any old fat man – this was George Lipman. And he did have a fascinating set of balls – very large, like a bull's. And his cock hung over his balls, getting longer, swelling. The loose skin over the cockhead started to pull back as the cock stiffened without really standing up. The man had attained a semi-erection, his cock straight and throbbing, but pointed more down than up.

"Lie down, you gorgeous little slut," George said, then he got onto the couch and started to lower his huge sweating body down on top of her.