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.

CHAPTER TWO

"Hello, Doctor Steiner," said Betsy Pike as she pushed her cart down the hospital corridor. The white-haired surgeon nodded with delight at the pretty blonde candy striper, and there seemed to be an added youthfulness to his step as he went on. Betsy had been striping for over a year and everyone in the hospital knew her. Some better than others, she thought wickedly.

At eighteen, Betsy was a looker, promising to grow into a genuine heartbreaker of a lady. Her long blonde hair was neatly pinned up today, and her pink uniform with green-and-white striped pinafore did its best to conceal the lithesome curves of Betsy's ripe young figure.

She was satisfied with herself. Makeup was applied so sparingly she almost looked barefaced, and the effect was perfect. Her eyes were lined with careful, economic strokes, her cheeks wore their own color of natural health, and her lips were painted a dainty, glossy pinkish-red that didn't look at all as if it had originated in a tube. Betsy had sharp, intelligent features and she believed in making the most of them. She always took care to look her best at the hospital, for candy striping was her third favorite thing in life. For the past two and a half years fucking and sucking had been odds-on favorites for positions number one and two, and Betsy didn't see much chance they'd be deposed in the near future.

She didn't think about them all the time, thought. Like right now, she told herself. Screwing is the furthest thing from my mind. At the moment she was too busy handing out the afternoon's quota of magazines, newspapers, and patient mail even to think about a slick, hard cock reaming out her tight cunt. Of course I'm too busy, she reminded herself of course.

Betsy opened the door of Room 311 and pushed her cart inside. Yesterday she hadn't gotten up to this floor, and on her last duty day the previous week no one had been quartered here. She sang out a greeting in her high, girlish voice as she neared the bed where a patient lay, his legs in casts, his arms thrust high above him, supported by traction equipment. "Candy striper here," she said. "Would you like me to read you the headlines?"

He looked her way and she started to giggle. "What's so funny?" he asked. It was a young man on the bed, not much, if at all, older than Betsy, and he glowered at her. Recognition stole upon him. "Oh, hi," he said.

She knew him. It was Terry McGraw, and he'd graduated from Albany High not quite a month ago. He was cute, too, even if he was in fraction. God, what had happened to him, anyway?

"Car wreck," he said. "Friday evening. Didn't you read about it in the paper?"

She shook her head.

"I broke both legs and one arm, and the other one's sprained to hell and back. I didn't know you were a candy stripe, Bets."

"Bets." My, she thought, aren't we getting intimate? He'd never given her the time of day before. Last fall she'd gotten a girl friend to put in a good word for her, the "Betsy Pike thinks you're really cute, and if you called her up, she'd put Robert Redford on hold" kind of good word. And what had Mr. Terry Hot Shot McGraw said in reply? Betsy pursed her lips, trying to remember his exact words. Oh, yes! "No thanks! It's more distinctive to be the only guy in Albany County who hasn't balled Betsy Pike than to join the throng who have."

It wasn't even true that she'd balled every guy in the county, or even the town, or even the high school. She'd done her bit for the sexual revolution, sure, but in a small town a girl only had to do it with three or four boys before she got a mini-reputation. And now look at Terry McGraw. He was stretched out on a hospital bed, helpless, in need of consolation and TLC, and who should be the candy striper on duty but the girl he'd rejected so nastily? Betsy felt there was indeed a kind of poetic justice operating in the world. She went to the bed and used a tissue on his forehead, wiping away a few drops of sweat.

"Is it too hot for you?" she asked considerately. "Why don't I adjust the room temperature? Or, maybe, if I just pulled away this sheet…"

She did pull it away, where the sheet was thrown carelessly across the lower part of his body, and she couldn't stifle a giggle. His hospital gown was pulled up – he couldn't very well adjust it for himself, not with everything in casts or cables – and she could see the tip of his little wiener sticking out beneath the high-risen hem.

"Ooops," she grinned. "We'd better get you decent, hadn't we?" She reached down to pull his gown to a lower level, but the demon that occasionally possesses Betsy sprang up out of nowhere. Instead of lowering his gown, she tugged it higher, so that all his male equipment lay bare beneath her gaze.

"What're you doing?" he demanded, his voice cracking.

Hmm, thought Betsy. Isn't he finished with his body changes yet? She reached down to tickle him beneath the balls. Terry jerked as much as his condition would allow, and he groaned when she cupped his nuts in one hot little hand, giving them a firm but careful squeeze. "It isn't very big, is it?" she asked consolately, eyeing his limp member.

Her estimate was premature, for in just seconds, the more firmly she caressed him, the larger his pecker began to grow. "Knock it off," he grimaced, trying to wiggle himself free of her exploring hand, but Terry was like a fly pinned to a display board and Betsy's other hand took hold of the tip of his cock, squeezing till it suddenly bulged and gave a quivering throb between her fingertips. "Oh," she said gaily. "Maybe you're not so small."

"C'mon, Bets," he pleaded. "I'll ring for the nurse if you don't cut it out." The bell hung beside one hand, close enough for him to reach it. Betsy saw that. Instantly she'd let go of his genitals and pushed the signal bell to the side. "I don't understand, Terry," she sighed. "A candy striper is supposed to make the patients as comfortable as possible. And I'll bet you haven't had any hot, juicy screwing since – oh, since Friday, at least. Have you? Well, if you want me to leave you alone, I will, but – oh! Just look at that big hard-on you're getting! It'd be a terrible shame if it went to waste! Don't you think so, Terry?"

He groaned as her hands found his cock once again. She leaned over the bed and kissed him on the end of his peter. It was a lingering kiss, and her mouth pulled free with a loud smack. As Betsy straightened up, she licked her lips thoughtfully, and then she turned to go. "See you," she said over her shoulder.

"Hey!" he called. "You're not leaving now, are you?"

"Uh-huh," she said seriously. "You said for me to let you alone."

"Oh, come back."

Before she did, she found a small sign on the table next to the door. It read: DOCTOR IN CONSULTATION – DO NOT DISTURB. It was stamped with the name of one of the hospital staff and looked official. No one would come in till it was removed. Betsy hung it on the outside doorknob, pulled the door shut, and made her way back to the bed. Terry waited, as he must, and she took her time.

She sat down on his bed, fondling with one hand the hard-on she'd created. It had a nice, slender feel in her fist. Nothing extra special in length or thickness, Betsy decided, though she'd never messed around with a guy who had very much size on Terry. All the really big dicks must be in Playgirl, she decided. They sure weren't in Albany, Ohio.

He was almost purring when her soft, warm hands went to work on him. Betsy held one palm straightened on each side of him and moved them up and down in a maddeningly slow friction. Terry lifted from the bed with her hand motion, or at least he lifted as much as he could. She knew he was trying, though.

"Isn't this fun?" she asked teasingly. "Bet you never guessed how much fun I could be. At least not when you told everybody you thought I was a whore."

"I never!" he protested between gasps. No, he hadn't, but it was the next thing to it. He'd put her down, his quip had gotten around, and Betsy had taken a lot of razzing for several days. She'd sworn to get even, and she still intended to. But, was blowing him the way to revenge herself? She stopped in mid-fondle. "Uh, Bets," he said, making a feeble lunge with his groin in an effort to get her started once more.

Betsy smiled, a smile so sugary-cute that Terry should have taken warning. But he didn't. And when she dipped in with her head, Terry gave a sigh of joy. Her tongue shot out from between slick, glossy lips, and she cat-bathed the lip of his cock for three seconds of what must have been nirvana to the tractioned young man. Her tongue's snaky whip flitted around the rim of his cock, tracing the sharp ridges, attacking the head from the underside, where it was most sensitive. He moaned. Betsy jerked her face back in defense, certain that she'd gone too far, that he was going to come in her eyes from the meager stimulation she'd given. She locked her thumb and finger on his cock-tip and gave a healthy squeeze. That was from a magazine article. It was supposed to get a guy out of the idea of squirting too fast, and it had worked every time she'd tried it.

It worked again. Terry's face went red, then the excessive blood began to drain out and his flesh took on an almost normal tone. She smiled at him, showing off her pretty, even teeth and the end of her playful red tongue, and then she returned to work.

Her mouth opened wide and she sucked him in. His cock lay for a moment on the wet bed of her tongue as she worked her jaws upon him. It was a turn-on kind of suckling, Betsy knew damned well, and she felt him make a feeble thrust upward, an attempt to force more of his dick into her. She resisted him, successfully, for she had the upper hand in this encounter. It was her mouth and she would dictate what went into it, and how much. He wasn't in the best position for objecting, anyway.

She had about half his six inches in her maw, and she sucked on it vigorously, reaching down now and then to fondle or squeeze his nuts. Just enough to make him squirm against the myriad of ropes which held him, just enough to make his cock twist lamely inside her mouth. She sucked him harder, letting her tongue flit around his hard length.

And my, wasn't he hard indeed! Let's see – this was Tuesday, and he'd been here since Friday evening – at least three full days when he hadn't even had the option of masturbating himself. No wonder his erection felt so stiff, no wonder she could feel the lustful blood racing in each of the knotty little veins which stood out on his cock. She licked at those blood-filled channels, tapping them with her tongue, feeling Terry jerk each time she bumped him, and then she returned to sucking.

Betsy enjoyed sucking, nearly as much as she relished being spread out and filled with a hard penis. Was there some reason she shouldn't? She was seventeen years old, lovely to look at, and a resident of the richest nation in the world (barring one or two Arab oil empires). Everyone said that the sexual revolution was here and now, that the shackles of repression had been thrown off and libidos were liberated. Of course, she hadn't broken the news of her enlistment to her parents – they belonged to the repressed generation, they wouldn't understand at all. But it was her life and her body, and if she wanted to indulge it sensually, it seemed to Betsy Pike that she had every right to do just that.

Like now. Even if Terry was a prick, metaphorically speaking, he had a nice prick, a cute prick, and it throbbed like a pulsating sausage in her mouth. She swallowed him as deeply as she dared, head jerking back automatically whenever she felt him slide too near her throat. That was something she'd have to work on. If she could ever find a guy long enough to make deep-throating worthwhile. She had time. She was only seventeen. And she wouldn't be in Albany all her life.

Betsy's head began to rise and fall in long, sure patterns. Once in a while his cock slid in deeper than she intended, and a little gag rose in the back of her mouth, but for the most part she was able to control what she did and how she did it. Her head twisted jerkily as she moved up and down on him, making his cock twist too, and occasionally she let go of all but his knob, keeping it entrapped behind her front teeth so she could suck it hellishly hard while bopping it all over with the tip of her tongue. She couldn't tell whether Terry liked that or loved it. He moaned every time her tongue dragged through his cum slit, and some of those moans were quite suggestive. She kept one eye on his face, attentive lest he get much closer to coming. She'd give him the old finger squeeze so hard his dick would turn blue. He would squirt when she was ready, and not a moment before.

Without warning she let all his dick slide from her mouth. Betsy started kissing the underside of his shaft, kissing it with slurpy, smacking noises, making her way toward his tight, small scrotum. She let go with her hand just as her lips touched the edge of his jewel-sac, and she found that his nuts were small enough to suckle. Her mouth strained when she opened wide, but she got his balls inside, and she held them for a long, long time in a drooly caress. She didn't even have to suck. The pressure of her mouth on his delicate stones was enough to make Terry groan and squirm as much as his constraints would allow, and Betsy could feel the bed wobbling beneath them. Wouldn't that be a pisser, if the bed collapsed, and the attendants who came running to investigate found the hospital's most efficient candy striper still in the act of going down on a helpless patient?

It wouldn't happen. She'd been screwed on hospital beds and she knew they could take a hell of a lot of pounding. Her cunt still dripped whenever she remembered the young intern from med school at Columbus who'd been here last fall. He had a permanent hard-on, and it always seemed to point in the direction of Betsy's jiggly ass. She'd tried him on for size – he was the biggest she'd ever taken, over seven inches long, and thick, too – in the linen closet, on unoccupied beds, in an empty operating room, and once in the maternity ward waiting room on a slow day. And they'd never been caught. So why should it happen now?

Betsy hummed around the nuts she suckled, and she thought Terry would go out of his mind! Her eyes shot toward his face. He was so red-faced he could have camouflaged himself as a grape and hidden out in the Gallo vineyards. His eyes bugged out and his hands twitched in the air. Betsy gave his nuts one last suck, then let them pop free. Her hand immediately fisted around his erect pecker, and she stroked him up and down the way she'd done boys before she found out that fucking beat hand-jobs.

"This can last all day if you want," she purred at him. "I know how to streeeetttttcccchhhh it out."

"No, don't," he insisted breathlessly, "just let me come! I want to come so badly! In your mouth, Bets let me come in your mouth!"

"Mmmm," she trilled, pursing her lips, then licking them. She eyed the tip of his cock. It was wet, sloppy from her spit and from the natural fluids a man gave out to juice up his dick for intercourse. Well, he wasn't going to get the chance to screw her. Not in the shape he was in. Soooo…

Betsy gobbled him up once more, stuffing his cock into her mouth. This time she didn't try for depth or speed. She just engulfed him in her sweet ocean and sucked like his wettest dream come to flesh-and-blood life. Her tongue made lazy semi-circles around his tool where it was imbedded, and sighing hums of delight seeped from her mouth.

That was the funny part, she thought. She didn't really like Terry at all. Not as a person. He'd made fun of her, and Betsy did not care for being made fun of. The sting had been with her far too long. But his prick felt just like a prick in her mouth, and it tasted just like a prick, with a salty, meaty flavor, and she could really groove on sucking it. She could get off on the idea of his gushing into her mouth, too. The jism he'd been storing up since Friday at least. There'd be a flood of it, she was certain. Big, gobby spurts of cum. She knew so well how they'd feel and could be pretty sure of how they'd taste.

"I wanna cum in your mouth, Bets," he was groaning. "I wanna cum in your sweet, gorgeous mouth. Oh, don't stop, you hot-mouthed bitch! Keep sucking!"

A blonde girl named Betty or Beth or Betsy or something, had shown her the ropes this morning.

Sibyl Bogart wasn't sure of her way around the hospital. One of the veteran candy stripers, a blonde girl named Betty something, had shown her the ropes this morning, and she'd been gadding around like a freckle-faced Florence Nightingale ever since, but she had no idea where she was in the spacious building right now. It was fun, though, and it got her out of Daddy's way for a while. Oh, she hated to be away from him, of course. Sibyl had been motherless for twelve of her eighteen years, and sometimes she felt as if she'd been fatherless, too. Daddy was always in some exotic country, reporting for some newspaper chain or big magazine, and she rarely saw him. Now that he was home to stay, he cherished every moment she could be with him.

He was like a young girl's dream come true. Big, rugged, handsome in a real-man way (how could she ever have hero-worshiped a dinky twit like Danny Osmond? she asked herself). He'd been places and done things. He knew half the world's leaders on a first name basis. In spite of the State Department he'd interviewed Ho Chi Minh and Fidel Castro in their palaces long before that was a popular journalistic sport. She loved to hear him tell stories from his travels.

But he was busy now, trying to get two books finished. Paperback adventure books, based on his own adventures. He'd gotten big advances for both of them, and a movie deal was in the offing for one, even before publication. And she was in his way at the summer house, always underfoot, interrupting him. They'd come here so he could work in peace, in the bucolic setting of southeastern Ohio, but he couldn't work with a worshiping daughter at his heels. So she'd sacrificed her reunion time for the present and taken up volunteer work here at the hospital. It was okay. By October they'd be settled in California with all the time in the world for one another.

"Peppermint!" someone called – it was the address form for candy stripers until the girls had become faces. Sibyl turned. "Here," said an orderly. "Take this to Doctor Waverly." Sibyl nodded quickly, wondering who Doctor Waverly was. The orderly was gone before she could ask, but a nurse said she thought Waverly might be on third floor this time of day. Sibyl headed for the elevator.

She didn't see him – or her – in the corridor, but she wasn't familiar with the hall's turnings, and so she went with hope. On her way back down the hallway, Sibyl noticed a sign, hung from a doorknob, which read DOCTOR IN CONSULTATION – DO NOT DISTURB, and the name of Jeffery Waverly, M.D., was rubberstamped underneath.

She touched the doorknob. It said DO NOT DISTURB. But maybe this was very important. She looked at the envelope. You couldn't tell from the outside. Maybe she'd just peek into the room, make sure Dr. Waverly was there, see if he was busy with something serious. He couldn't do any more than yell at her. She turned the knob as quietly as she could and peeked round the edge of the door. "Oh, good Lord!" she said.

Betsy's head whirled, Terry's cock jumping from her mouth to wobble wetly in open air. She looked at the partially opened door and saw the face of a candy striper – the new girl, the shy red-headed one. "Oh, close the Goddamn door!" she barked, her hand catching Terry's cock for steadying.

Sibyl had half her body inserted in the door's aperture, and there was no real reason for her to enter the room as opposed to departing. Perhaps she still expected to find Dr. Waverly in here someplace. She didn't understand – even afterwards, she never understood why – but she stepped inside and closed the door firmly. The sound of closing was a cue to Betsy, who returned to her task at once.

Sibyl had known something unusual was going on, but not till now could she see it. She'd noticed that the patient's gown was pulled up very high, she'd seen that Betsy Pike was sitting on the bed, her head bent over the young man's lap, and now she could see that Betsy was carrying her candy stripe duties to a point which regulations probably wouldn't have approved. She was – good Lord! – she was putting the boy's penis in her mouth and she was – sucking it! – loudly, voraciously, with big smacks and quick jerks of her head.

Sibyl came closer, transfixed with horror. She knew that such things happened between men and women – married men and women, of course – in real life. The nuns at St. Ursula's had explained last term in hygiene that it was even permissible in marriage, by church law, if it were not used as a birth control technique. But Sibyl had never grasped the vivid reality of the act of oral sex until this very moment, and she was shocked. Her face reddened with a massive blush, and she felt numb from head to toe.

Neither of the room's occupants paid any attention to her, it seemed. The boy's eyes were closed and he was calling Betsy some nasty names while encouraging her to keep doing what she was doing. Sibyl didn't use words like that in her speech or thoughts, and she tried to block them out of her mind.

Betsy ignored the newcomer, too. Her cheeks were pulled in to an incredible degree of concavity, Sibyl thought, and her eyes were closed as if she were in prayer. Oh, that was obscene! And so was this! She should close her own eyes, or at least turn her head away so she'd not have to look. Instead, she found herself taking another step toward the bed, then still another, so that the action she watched grew ever sharper and clearer before her wide green eyes.

CHAPTER THREE

Surely this wasn't part of a candy striper's normal duties. If it were, Sibyl was quitting at once! Oh, no! she thought. Dr. Waverly's card hung from the hall side of the door. What if he were on his way back? What if he came in and saw this filthy scene in progress? She leaned forward, her hands jerking at Betsy's shoulder.

"Stop it!" she hissed. "For heaven's sake, stop it!"

Betsy lurched and wobbled as Sibyl pulled at her, and in the process of that lurching and wobbling, Terry's cock jumped from her tight sucking mouth. Sibyl saw it – really saw it – for the first time, and she was shocked out of her shoes. Her first sight of the sex-ready male instrument displayed a long, red extension of flesh, so hard she was positive the boy must have been in sheer agony. It was soaking wet from Betsy's mouth, and the skin looked raw and painful as the dick jerked in mid-air. Sibyl fought the impulse to scream, but her hands went slack on Betsy's shoulder, allowing the blonde candy striper to reach for Terry's cock.

Betsy's sucking had reached the point of no return as far as Terry was concerned. His face contorted with the need to blow his nuts and he whined in a little boyish voice that would have been comic in any other setting. And when Betsy grabbed his prick with both hands, steering it toward her mouth, his groan dropped a full octave in pitch. "Unh-unh-unh!" he grunted, letting his cum fly where it would.

The first squirt of jism from the tip of Terry's cock took Sibyl in virginal surprise. She saw it burst forth, she could even see that the boy's pecker was momentarily pointing in her direction as Betsy fought to re-establish it in her mouth. But Sibyl couldn't move, not even when a huge, steaming gob of semen splashed her pinafore apron midway between the dainty twin thrust of her tits. She looked down in stunned horror as the sticky cream began to ooze in a viscous course down the front of her candy-striped apron, and the need to cry out in disgust was a burning impulse inside her muted throat.

The stuff oft her starched, clean pinafore – it had come from the patient's penis – it reminded her of – ugh! – snot. And there was a strange, almost fishy odor drifting toward her nostrils. An odor which hadn't been there before. She was going to be sick. Right here.

Sibyl looked toward the bed. Now she really felt sick.

Betsy was bent over the patient's midsection, and once again she had his thing in her mouth. Just the end of it, this time, and her hand flew up and down the exposed red shaft. Her cheeks sucked in, then puffed out, like a bellows in use, and Sibyl knew that the pretty blonde candy striper was allowing more of this hideous male juice to spurt into her mouth. Oh, God, how could she? Even the fumes of the stray burst which had splattered Sibyl's apron made the red-headed girl's brain woozy. Sibyl made a fist and covered her lips with it, as if she were trying not to vomit.

"C'mon, you little slut," Terry chanted wildly. "Suck it all up! Gargle with my jism." He thrashed as much as his traction would allow, which wasn't much, and Betsy's head swayed from side to side as she permitted his dick to empty itself into her mouth. She hummed as she accepted his offering, and the vibrato of her humming seemed to intensify the facial reactions Terry made while squirting. He panted like a weary dog and Sibyl could see beads of sweat rolling across his forehead.

Betsy raised her head from the already deflating cock she had sucked to completion. Her lips were glossy, both from the lipstick and from stray droplets of cum which had streaked across them, and she curled them into a kittenish smile. Sibyl couldn't understand the smile. If anyone had forced her to perform such a shocking act, she'd be green with nausea and revulsion.

Terry groaned and panted still, rocking in his traces. His cock was wilted to a small noodle, a stray drop of watery cream seeping from its tip and falling to the sheet on which he lay. Sibyl was astonished at how much the boy's member had shrunk in the space of only a few seconds.

Betsy slid up the bed, touching Terry's face with her cummy fingers. To Sibyl, the blonde girl's cheeks looked slightly swollen, and her lips seemed to be too firmly set. Terry recoiled when Betsy stroked his mouth with one sticky digit. "Don't do that," he grimaced, but he couldn't very well move out of her way, and he had no real defense when she seized the initiative and pushed her middle finger into his mouth. It muffled his enunciation of "that", and he began to sputter in powerless upset. Betsy used both hands then, prying his lips open and lowering her face. She pressed her mouth upon his and ground against him, purring as she kissed Terry.

She hadn't swallowed his jizz. It sloshed inside Betsy's mouth, for she had realized even as he squirted that this would be the sweetest revenge for what Terry owed her. And she solicited her revenge now. She opened her mouth as they kissed, and she gave him back his cum. He'd gushed it into her mourn, a thick, stringy, sticky load, several days' backlog, and Betsy let it pour from her mouth to his.

Terry gasped and sputtered and choked. His face cringed beneath Betsy's, but the girl kept her mouth in place a long, long time. When she raised it at last, Terry's lips and flopping tongue were white and sticky with the cream she'd returned. "You cunt," he coughed, a thin rivulet of jism spilling from the corner of his mouth. "You rotten lousy bitch of a cunt! I think I'm gonna be sick! I'm gonna puke!"

"Nonsense," Betsy asserted stoutly. "It isn't the tastiest brand on the market, but it won't hurt you. I've swallowed buckets in my time. Besides, lover, I didn't want to run away with anything that belonged to you." She took a tissue from the pocket of her pinafore, wiped her lips daintily, and turned to go. "Try gargling it, big stuff," she added spitefully over her shoulder.

"I think my apron is ruined," Sibyl said disconsolately, holding it at arm's length. The squirt of cum had flowed down the front of her pinafore and was nearly dry now, with a definite, ugly brown stain in its wake.

"Oh, maybe," Betsy agreed. They were in the basement lounge for student nurses, and no one else was around. Betsy went to the coffee pot, half-filled a paper cup, then spilled the hot contents on Sibyl's apron, obliterating the cum stain. "If anyone asks, tell them you spilled your coffee. Besides, there are hundreds of pinafores around."

That seemed to clinch it. Sibyl poured herself a cup of coffee, sipped it, then turned to her nonchalant blonde co-worker, who was buffing her nails. "How could you – how could you do that?" Sibyl asked suddenly, squeezing the paper cup so fiercely it almost crumpled in her hand.

Betsy looked up, her blue eyes big arid vacant. "He deserved it," she said. "He put me down once, and everyone at school heard about it. I always knew I'd get even." She giggled. "Oh, it wasn't so bad. I mean, cum isn't poison. God, I'd be dead."

"Not that," Sibyl said, shivering at the memory of what Betsy had done to the boy. "I meant, how could you have done that at all? Put his thing in your…"

Betsy tilted her head to one said and she laughed softly. "I suppose you've never? Oh, my God, you haven't! Don't blush, Sibyl. Being a virgin isn't the worst thing in the world. I mean, there's cancer, and – you are a virgin, aren't you? I mean, a real, honest-to-God…" She stopped. "I'm embarrassing you."

Yes, very much! Sibyl wanted to shout. In fact, she was even more embarrassed than when she'd stumbled in to watch Betsy's act of perversion. Of course she was a virgin. Chastity was a girl's greatest treasure. All the nuns had agreed on that. Bad girls went to hell and scorched in the fires of their sinful lusts. Betsy would probably go to hell, or at least to purgatory, and Sibyl found the thought saddening. Betsy didn't seem like such a bad girl, though her morals were obviously flawed. There was something fresh and appealing about Betsy, something which especially reached out to a girl like Sibyl, who'd always had trouble making friends.

"Look," Betsy went on. "If you're a good girl, that's nobody's business but yours. I'm a naughty girl, and I dig the hell out of being one. Talk about ironic. Look at us. Here you are, pure as a rose, and you have that really sexy red hair – mm, it feels just like a horse's mane, very nice – and freckles, and your face! Lord, you've got the kind of face that kinda smirks, you know? Naughty, but wouldn't it be soooo nice?" She did a half-turn and came round wearing a big-eyed kissy-face that shocked Sibyl all over again.

"No," Betsy protested. "That's how you look. It doesn't mean anything, necessarily. Take me, for example. Here I am, five-feet-four of blonde, blue-eyed apple pie. I was first runner-up for Miss Teenaged Albany County. Not bad, considering that I'd probably win it hands down for Town Slut, if they held a contest. See? Oh, we're two different people, you and I, and neither of us is responsible for the other's moral values. Is there any reason we can't be friends? Okay! Let me get some coffee, and you tell me about yourself. You're new in town?"

Sibyl began to talk at machine-gun tempo about herself, about her father and his adventures and books, about the house they were renting here, about the California house to which they'd move come fall. She couldn't believe she was talking so much, but it was her voice, sure enough.

"Oh, you're at the O'Brien place," Betsy deduced. "Up on the hilltop. Pool and patio out back. Yeah, that's only a few blocks from our house. God, you should be soaking up the sun, not wasting your days pepperminting. I wish we had a pool."

"Maybe you could come by sometime," Sibyl offered hesitantly, not sure Betsy would accept. The other girl was so outgoing, so self confident – why did she want to be friends with a wallflower like Sibyl?

"I was hoping you'd ask," Betsy mugged. "Maybe I'll just pack my bikini and sunglasses and take you up on it. Very soon."

Sibyl sighed. Betsy had the kind of figure bikinis were made for. Long-legged, well-proportioned, not busty but not flat-chested. Betsy would be dynamite on a beach. She'd have to carry a whip and gun to keep the boys away. Sibyl felt inadequate in comparison, though the two girls could probably have interchanged clothes from the skin out, with perfect fit. There was something about Betsy, though, an aggressive confidence, an elan, which Sibyl knew she lacked.

"Please do," she said in spite of her envy. "It would be awfully nice."

Sibyl's shift ended at four-thirty. She changed from uniform into shirt and jeans, mounted her bicycle, and pedaled home. A good cyclist, she was able to pedal all the way up the steep hill which led to her summer residence, though she was puffing by the time she reached the top. A small Japanese car was parked in front of the house, alongside Daddy's gray Mercedes. Who? Oh, sure! The girl who typed Daddy's final drafts. She was in and out every day, it seemed, dropping off batches of manuscript. And staring at Daddy with big calf eyes, too, Sibyl thought. As if he were some hot-stud rock singer. Women certainly didn't mature just because they got older. Sibyl parked her bike and went inside.

From the foyer she could hear the sounds. A woman, sighing, sobbing, her voice cracking with some emotion Sibyl didn't recognize. Pain? Delirious excitement? It smacked of both. The young girl hesitated, rocking on her heels. A man's voice, too, deeper pitched, calling out with the growl of a well-fed lion. A bed, and she was certain it could be only a bed, heaving like a trampoline. The shaking, the rattling, the creaking of mattress springs – Daddy certainly wasn't pounding his typewriter!

She took off her shoes and crept up the stairs, very softly, very slowly, watching where she stepped. The sounds Sibyl heard emanated from her father's bedroom. She was positive of that as soon as she'd climbed halfway up the staircase. The bedroom door was opened all the way. She glued her face to a gap between banister rails and looked straight ahead, into the bedroom, to the bed. As clearly revealed to her sight as if it were in the center of a theatrical stage were two people, a man and a woman, both of them completely naked, their bodies joined together as they exercised on the bed. It was Daddy, of course, and with him was that girl – what was her name? Cheryl something. And – God! thought Sibyl in revulsion.

She had a profile view. Certain details were obscured, but she could see enough to know what was going on. Cheryl was on her back, legs kicking high in the air. Her brunette hair was flipping and swirling in a disordered mess, and she sang and purred in a gasped breathless tone. Sibyl's father, Ed, knelt on the bed, behind Cheryl, the cheeks of her ass balanced on his folded thighs. His loins pressed against the space between her legs and he kept pushing himself against her, sighing each time he rammed her body with his own. And each time Ed sighed, Cheryl moaned, and her feet paddled in the air as if she were pedaling a bicycle downhill.

He's-he's fucking her, Sibyl told herself in shock. Not the least of Sibyl's horror was traced to the fact that she even thought of such an obscene phrase as "fucking." But she'd heard it so often today during her conversation with Betsy. The sweet-faced blonde could talk up a storm, and her favorite adjectives and modifiers were "fuckin'" and "bitchin'". Now it was rubbing off on Sibyl. I should have my mouth washed out with soap, she thought.

But he was fucking her. Or having intercourse with her. Or whatever description, polite, or impolite, was appropriate. Cheryl even said so. "Oh, come on, fuck me!" she moaned, over and over as her body and Ed's slammed together with squishes and thwacks of flesh. She used the word nearly as often as Betsy.

It's disgusting, Sibyl fumed. Hideous and disgusting they looked like animals, doing that. She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch another second, but she opened her eyes almost as soon as she'd shut them. Some power stronger than her outraged moral sense was controlling her, and she was helpless. She could only watch.

Ed doubled his pace. His body was a blur of motion as he shoved his cock in and out of Cheryl's sucking cunt. It was the third time they'd balled this afternoon, besides the first-time sixty-nine. His cock was harder than ever, and he was giving Cheryl unmitigated hell. She screamed in joy every time it banged its fierce way into her pussy, and she rotated her feet in the air. His hands burned where they gripped her ass, lifting her to receive him, and there was a strained ache in the small of her back which meant nothing in comparison to the feverish delight of her pussy.

"Oh, you brutal bastard," she moaned, "you gorgeous, brutal, sonofabitch! You're killing me with that prick of yours! I think my cunt is on fire!"

His only reply was to laugh heartily and shaft her all the harder. She screamed when he fucked even faster, and her body wobbled where it touched the bed. Hair flew across her face, a stray curl dangling into her open, gasping mouth. She clutched her big, stiff-pointed tits, squeezing the nipples till she thought they would burst like pimples.

Ed stopped balling her as the tremors of release rippled through her pussy. Cheryl's legs tensed, her toes curling and uncurling, and she felt five or six separate orgasms race through her cunt. She could only groan in weary satisfaction. Then: "Oh, Jesus, take it out, Ed – please!" Her cunt, settling down, felt raw from the repeated insertions of his dick and still-imbedded cock made lances of pain radiate from her creamed-over box. She wriggled, trying to escape her lover.

Ed pushed forward, burying his cock in her even while she tried to escape it. "We're paying for the typing, aren't we?" he asked slyly. "What about my change?" Graciously, he leaned back then, withdrawing his wet, red, ferociously hard peter from her splayed gash. It waved in the air, thrusting up fiercely from his loins, a monster of a cock.

A monster! thought Sibyl. A monster! It was only the second erect penis she had ever seen – Terry's was the first – but its size was frightening. She had thought Terry's cock was big, and big it looked to her virgin eyes, but compared to her father, the boy at the hospital was a penile dwarf. Sibyl looked down at her slim forearm, making a mental comparison. If her father's dick was smaller than her forearm, it wasn't that much smaller. And he had been using it like a crowbar in the typing girl's vagina! Sibyl thought of her own delicate cunt and tried to imagine the havoc such a prick would cause there…

"So, how about my change?" Ed went on, and his daughter lifted her eyes to the scene in progress. "You owe me one come."

Cheryl didn't hesitate. She scooted her ass out of his hands, dropped onto the bed, then reversed herself, so that she lay on her belly. Like a worshiper at a pagan altar, she looked up at the stiff prong extending above her head. Cheryl lifted her shoulders, moving her face closer, closer. Her tongue shot out – it was bright red – and its tip brushed the dangling sac of Ed's balls. Only a brushing contact. She tongued the underside of his cock and licked her way toward the huge, purple-red knob, the fat crown of the oversized prick.

Her mouth made an O, and she screwed that O onto the end of Ed's peter. Cheryl gulped hungrily moving her head down, down, down. Sibyl watched in bemused dismay as the brunette girl appeared to swallow Ed Bogart's rod. It must be a foot long, Sibyl thought. How can she do that?

Cheryl's head just kept moving downward, mote and more of that huge, thick prick disappearing into her mouth. Her eyes were wide open, and so was her mouth, its stretch-strain obvious to Sibyl from a distance of fifteen or twenty feet. But Cheryl didn't stop. She was gagging and choking, but she pushed forward, and for one long, unbelievable moment, she pressed her wet lips down upon the base of Ed's dick and the massive sac of balls which hung just beneath. Her face reddened, as if she were holding her breath and she went "Nnnnrrrppp" like a burp of protest, and she withdrew faster than she'd gone down. But Ed's cock was completely spit-wet as it reappeared from between her lips, and Ed was smiling paternally and patting his lover on her rumpled hair. He said, "Baby, that was beautiful. A magazine editor I used to know in Sydney almost killed herself trying that trick."

Cheryl grabbed his cock by the root and took her mouth off it. "Am I better than she was? Am I better than anybody else you've ever had?"

"You're better than a lot of them," he confessed. "And you're definitely the best I've ever had in Ohio."

"So are you," Cheryl grinned, and with that she thrust him back inside. Her cheeks closed in upon his cock, and she began to suck it eagerly. He'd brought her to come after come. God love him, and if he had one more burst of jism left in his nuts, she wanted him to dump it in her mouth, where it belonged.

Cheryl sucked with loving purrs and hums – she'd heard about a dirty movie, where a girl actually sang "Jingle Bells" while sucking a guy's cock, and she wondered how it was done. She couldn't sing or speak with that big piece of bone in her mouth, and she was too embarrassed to practice right now, lest Ed think she was silly and laugh at her. So she kept on humming and purring, sending shivery vibrations up and down his cock, and along with the cunty noises, she threw some of her finest suction onto her man. She might be just a piece to him, but she wanted him to think of her as the piece de resistance.

"Get ready," he panted, moments before she expected it. "I'm going to come, right in your beautiful mouth!"

"Mmmmmm!!" Cheryl moaned around his hardness. She had an open throat, eager to receive his jizz.

Ed grabbed her by the ears about the same time she closed one fist upon his nuts, giving them a kinky twist. He uttered, "Nnnnnggghhh!" in a passion-choked groan, then humped forward, and his cock poured out so much joy-juice Cheryl was positive it must be gushing in sticky streams from her eyes and ears and nostrils. She tried to keep sucking, to make him squirt his very soul into her grateful mouth, but her lips trembled so agitatedly she was afraid of biting him. So Cheryl let her mouth go slack, offering him the dominant role she didn't mind surrendering, and he braced her with his hands, filling her mouth to the brim. She felt his jism drip from her unsteadied lips, but for every drop she lost, Cheryl swallowed two, and her tummy sang in contentment long after he'd stopped shooting and his cock had begun, at last, to go soft in her warm mouth.

Sibyl's entire body was numb, except for the nipples on her young tits, which seemed to pulsate inside her bra. She had her knees braced against the wall beside the staircase, and one of her hands clutched at the railing base. Otherwise, she knew, she surely would have toppled and fallen.

The two of them, Daddy and Cheryl, were cuddling on the bed now, kissing, petting, but not at all seriously. The first time their lips touched, Sibyl cringed, remembering Betsy and the boy at the hospital. Her friend had made the boy irate by giving him back his semen in the midst of a kiss. Daddy must be tasting himself now, as his tongue jiggled inside Cheryl's mouth, but it wasn't apparent. At least, he wasn't calling her dirty names and reacting in shock. It seemed unbearably perverted, in Sibyl's estimation, that her father was willing to plant big soul kisses on the mouth that had just sucked him to a tremendous orgasm.

"Sibyl will be getting home soon," Ed told his girl. He shrugged as he said it, and Cheryl sat up with a deep sigh. "The last three chapters of the book are on the desk beside the typewriter," he added. "You can have them done by day after tomorrow?"

Cheryl nodded. She was reaching for her halter, slipping her tits into it. She smoothed down the material, but her nipples were sated with sex and barely responded to her invitation to spring up afresh. "Fine," she said. "It'll take me that long to rest up."

Sibyl was still numb, still emotionally stunned by what she'd seen. But she realized, as Cheryl stood up and poured her ripe, wide-hipped body into a pair of tight slacks, that within a very few moments the couple would be leaving the bedroom, that they'd see her and know she'd been watching them. Pins tingled in her bare feet as she forced them to creep silently down the stairs. No one had noticed her yet – the sun was on the far side of the house and the staircase was in shadow from the surrounding walls. And neither her father nor Cheryl had been in any observant frame of mind while they were fucking.

She went outside, mounted the bike and coasted down the bill to the street below. There she stopped, halted on the sidewalk, waiting.

In ten minutes she heard the unmistakable sound of a Toyota. Cheryl pulled to the entrance of the private road; looked both ways, then zipped onto Richland Street. Sibyl wondered if it were safe to go home now. She hesitated. Could she face her father, knowing what she knew?

She pushed her bike up the drive but met her father coming down, driving his Mercedes. He stopped alongside her, leaning out the window to speak. "Hi, honey," he smiled – almost innocently, Sibyl thought…"how was your day?" She threw away her reply with a fluttery gesture. "Say, I'm going to the store, Sib – out of coffee, pipe tobacco, and all the other necessities. Is there anything you need?" There wasn't. He smiled again, and drove on down the road.

Sibyl chained her bike and clattered into the house. This time she could stomp if she wanted, and stomp she did! All the way up to her room, stopping on the way to open Daddy's bedroom door and stare at the sex-rumpled bed inside. It was empty now, the sheets cooling, but if she closed her eyes – she didn't have to close them. The scene began, almost by magic, to re-enact itself before her gaze. Cheryl, legs thrust high, breasts swollen, pinching her nipples to make them ache with a harder throbbing pain, and Daddy, kneeling between her thighs, smacking his groin against her bottom, filling her with that – that…

Sibyl could see it now, that monstrous cock. Long, wet, reddened from the friction it had found inside Cheryl's body. Thick, too, and hard, with a big purple ball set atop its shaft. She saw her father once more remove it from Cheryl's cunt, saw Cheryl hurry to twist herself round and begin sucking. That was the second act of oral sex she'd seen today, Sibyl reminded herself as she clutched the door's edge for steadiness. The first had been the doing of strangers, even though Betsy was on the verge of becoming a friend. Sibyl had come upon it by accident, and she had been shocked immeasurably by what she saw. But this – this didn't involve strangers! She didn't know Cheryl very well, and – did she even know her father?

Sibyl slammed the door and ran down the hall to her own bedroom. Tears were fighting one another in her eyes. "How could you, Daddy?" she sobbed as the teardrops began to flow. "How could you be so beastly and dirty? In front of me?"

It was like being told that Robert Redford was a closet homosexual, Sibyl thought. It was that kind of shocking discovery. Except that Redford wasn't, and she wouldn't care if he was. She'd never idolized him, or anyone else, the way she'd idolized Daddy. Even when she was a little girl, he'd been her hero.

It was natural. Her mother had died when Sibyl was five, and she'd been raised by aunts and uncles and grandparents, and sent to good, conservative Catholic schools when she was old enough to go. She only saw Daddy once in a while, when he came home from some exotic country to spend a few days with her.

But she'd followed his career. At school, her walls were papered with photos of him, with tear sheets of newspaper clippings, magazine articles, souvenirs. She was the only girl at St. Bridget's with an autographed photo of President and Mrs. Kennedy, and her daddy standing between them, one arm around Jack, the other round Jackie. She'd saved clippings, stories, reviews, interviews and spent hours pasting them into scrapbooks. She had boxes containing the carbons of all Daddy's books. Her young girlish brain had built him into a hero, an adventurous knight, chivalric, brave, dashing – boys had never interested her, because who among them could be half so exciting as her father?

He made her heart throb in joy because he was so handsome and adventuresome. Why hadn't she realized that other women would look at him with the same cast of eyes? And he'd been a widower for eleven years. Had he never once thought about sex in all that time? She couldn't know. Until today she'd never had occasion.

Oh, she didn't want to think about it even now, when it had been thrust upon her by reality! She didn't want to remember how her father had looked, naked, having sex with that cheap, trampy, big-breasted girl! And she knew that this evening she'd not sit on his lap, put her arms around his neck, and talk to him about her love for him and her desire never to be separated from him again. She wondered if she could even bear to kiss him on the mouth again, knowing that he'd kissed that.

Sibyl looked down at herself. It was no wonder boys treated her with the same disdain she had for them. Look! She let her palms glide across the big cones in the front of her blouse. Tiny. Men liked big, biiiiggggg tits – tits like Cheryl's. Even Daddy had smiled and cooed as he petted them, after they'd rutted like animals. Sibyl closed her hands over her tits and squeezed, groaning as the nipples throbbed in reply. Her tits were so small, but sometimes it seemed as if every inch of their conical thrusts was alive with sensation. She knew that her nipples were erecting inside the cups of her bra, the little pink smears dotting with goosebumps, the nips themselves stiffening.

No! Her mind screamed. No! No!!! There was a time, two or three years ago, when her body ached with the pains of growing, when she'd lie in her bed at St. Ursula's or St. Bridget's or whichever St. she'd been attending. All the lights out, her covers pulled up to the top of her head, she'd let her hands rove beneath the cotton, ankle-length nightie that was prescribed bedwear.

She'd touch herself in places that had just begun to tingle with the onset of womanhood: her breasts, then no more than little bumps of flesh capped by twin patches of pink; her neck, her earlobes, her ribcage; the insides of her thighs; and, at last, the soft, plumpening hillock between them, its little bun-like swell creased by a delicate nil along whose slit a sparse fringe of red hairs had just begun to blossom.

Sibyl sucked in her breath as she recalled those evenings of sinful pleasure. It was wrong. All the nuns said it was wrong. A girl shouldn't have urges that could be felt in her private parts. But it was easy to forget about sin when she was playing with her nipples in the dark, squeezing their points into darts of thrusting tissue, or when she'd let her fingertips glide gently up and down the inner surfaces of her slim thighs. Or when – her mind swam with the memory – she rubbed her palm back and forth, up and down, side to side on the just-fleecing rise of her cunt, the insides of her fingers digging and lingering as they stroked the lips of her young slit. A throbbing inside, a swelling, a pulsating – Sibyl knew she had a clit before she knew what it was and what it was called.

And she knew how delirious she could feel, when that clit was strummed and petted and coaxed into peeking out of its hooded sweater of flesh. When it stole forth, shy but ready, and her fingertips slid across its moist, glimmery tip until it sprang up hot and wet and each pinch of fingers was a fresh exercise in the limits of her endurance but each pinch, no matter how fierce, was also a burning invitation to do it again, but harder.

No! NO! NO!!! Again she battled with herself.

She hadn't done that – masturbated – in two or three years. Breaking the habit strained her to agony and frustration, but she'd broken the habit. She hadn't even thought about it, not in a long time. But now, as she squeezed her tits again, she knew that she was doing more than simply thinking.

Sibyl stood up. She unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it to the floor. Next her jeans. They were fashionably snug but not tight, and they dropped easily enough. She stood in bra and panties, but only for a moment. The crotch of her panties was unexpectedly wet. She touched herself there, remembering how sweet it had been once to do just that, and she could smell the musk of arousal staining her nylon undies. They'd have to be changed, anyway. She took them off, then removed her bra.

There was a mirror on her dresser and she saw herself in it: the red hair, coarse-toned but soft to the touch; the freckles; the opaque green eyes; nose up-tilted, chin small and blunt; the body. She hated to see her body because it was so meager. Her tits were baby-sized cones, tipped in pink and her belly soft and rounded, a pillow of peach-toned skin culminating between her thighs in a puff of reddish curls. Like most natural redheads, Sibyl's pubic hair was sparse, barely sufficient to cover the folding lips of her gash. She turned around. Her ass was slim, almost skinny, though it swelled from her backbone at an angle that nearly approached provocative. Her legs were sturdy, but they'd never be cast in a pantyhose commercial on television. She was a loser. Who could ever look at her and feel desire?

Oh, God, who would want to? Desire was evil. Something that must be fought constantly. But she didn't desire anyone, and no one hungered after her. She was safe. Sibyl threw herself onto the bed, her hands searching automatically. One closed around her breast, the other touching the furry knoll between her legs. She moaned aloud at the unfamiliar contact, though it became more and more familiar as the seconds ticked by. Her nipple engorged between her fingertips and her palm grew damp with nervous sweat.

It was Daddy's fault. He'd betrayed her. He'd ruined every dream and illusion she had about him. He was nothing but a rutting beast. She could never love him again.

And why had he chosen Cheryl, of all women, to be sinful with? A brazen, busty slut with the morals of a bitch in heat. What had attracted him? Her availability? Her full-breasted, full-hipped figure? Sibyl stroked her pussy with harsher, harder fingers, one of them slipping inside almost by accident. She moaned and whimpered to feel the nail scraping her slick, wet cunt, and her lips seemed bone-dry. She licked them but it didn't help. Her forehead was warm; tight, too, as if a leather band were being tightened round her head. Oh, God, Sibyl thought, help me!

Her finger plunged deeper into her cunt. She was so tight in there. Her finger wasn't much larger than the vaginal tampons she preferred. Nothing bigger had ever been inside her cunt. Sibyl closed her legs upon the masturbating hand, curling up on the bed. She lay on her side, sobbing and frigging. Her tummy heaved and her tits felt as if they'd burst into flames. She hated herself, for what she was doing, but she hated her father even more. He was no hero. He was only a bull. "He fucked Cheryl," Sibyl said aloud, ramming her finger into her tight little pussy. "He fucked Cheryl!" She had never said that dirty word aloud before, and she repeated it half a dozen times, testing it on her tongue. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck," she said, as if it would relieve the anguish and anxiety which beset her like a lead bedspread.

Would she have liked it better if she'd caught Daddy doing it with anyone else? Was it Cheryl, or was it the fact that he had sexual urges and expressed them sexually? Was she angry, was she disillusioned, or was she [missing text]?

"Why did he do it with her?" she said aloud. "Why? Why couldn't he – if he had to fuck someone – why not…"

Sibyl screamed as orgasm struck her head-on. Her pussy exploded, hot, wet flesh melting around her stabbing finger, and the muscles of her straining body collapsed. She didn't know if her father might have returned from the store. Could he have heard the scream she made at the moment of orgasm? What if became up to investigate, if he caught her now, with her body naked and her finger thrust into her snatch? She didn't care! Let him look! Let him see that his daughter was grown up, that she didn't need him anymore! He could be no more saddened, disillusioned, hurt, than she was, and she wanted him to know that special agony.

CHAPTER FOUR

Betsy Pike knocked on the front door but nobody came to answer, so she turned away, towel slung over her arm. Her bottle of tanning oil was wrapped up in the towel, while her thigh-length beach jacket shielded her bikini from snoopy eyes. Sibyl was probably out back, by the pool, soaking up some sunshine, and that's exactly what Betsy was here for. She liked being tanned, all over, if possible, but it was such a bitch at home. What with Mom and the neighbors whose backyards fronted on hers, she couldn't very easily spread out a blanket, strip to the goodies, and let herself bake languidly in the sun. But up here, on top of a hill, it should be okay. If Sibyl didn't get all flustered. The girl was cute and sweet, but she seemed to have a problem about sex and bodies and all the other good stuff.

Betsy went around the house, easing through the hedge. Just as she remembered. Big patio, medium-sized pool, full of blue-tinted water. Mmmmm, she could feel that cool water dripping from her skin already. She stepped forward.

"Sib!" she called lightly. "You out here?" Betsy heard a noise and she turned to the back of the house. A man was coming out. A man? she thought. Spell that M-A-N! God, he was gorgeous! Well over six feet, muscles where he ought to have them, a devil-may-care face that smacked of romantic adventure. Broad chest, big hands, small tattoo on one arm. Her eyes roved down his advancing form and she felt saliva flowing in her mouth.

Jesus Christ! Betsy's mind shrieked, halfway between prayer and commentary. The man wore only a pair of red bikini shorts, skimpy, form-fitting and such a form! Only yesterday she, had been wondering where all the really big dicks were. Yes, she thought, there really is a God.

His swim shorts were as tight as if they'd been painted onto his body, and they hid nothing. She could see the enormity of his cock and nuts. Even now, limp and relaxing, his dick was something to dream about. It curled like a snake at his loins and it seemed to have no discernible end. Betsy felt a weakness in the pit of her stomach and she wondered if this was what the moment of true love was all about.

"Hi," he said in a deep, resonant baritone voice. All man.

"Hi," she croaked. "I was looking for Sib. Uh, I'm Betsy. We, uh, we're candystripers together, at the hospital, y' know, and she invited me to come up for a swim, and it was my day off today, so…"

He smiled, showing a mouthful of good white teeth. "Sibyl's at the hospital today," he apologized, and Betsy groaned.

"Oh, hell!" she said angrily. "Why didn't I think of that? I should have called first. God, I am such a fu-dummy!"

"It's all right," he said. "I'm Sibyl's father. Call me Ed, though." He smiled, offering his hand. Betsy thrilled to the male strength she felt in him. "Now, why don't you go ahead and have a swim, if you'd like? I'm just delighted to hear Sibyl is making friends."

How could Betsy refuse? She didn't even want to. As they walked toward the pool, she said, "Sibyl tells me you write books. I'd love to read one. One of yours, I mean. I'm not very intellectual, but when it's by someone you know…"

"I just finished a new one yesterday," Ed smiled. "Typed THE END, let off some steam. Today I'm taking it easy. Figured I might as well get some use out of the pool. We've been here two or three weeks, and I've only been in a couple of times."

Betsy nodded, spreading her towel on the grass at the edge of the patio. Off to the side some judiciously thinned trees cast an arrow of shade in her direction. She straightened up, unzipped her jacket, and cast it aside. She didn't miss the soft "Whew!" Ed made involuntarily at his first glimpse of her in the flesh, so to speak.

She was mostly flesh. Right now, at least. The bikini she had picked out was the one Mom wouldn't let her wear to the town's pool because it was so skimpy. All her bikinis were bitchin', but this one was the trashiest. A vivid purple, it consisted of little patches of nylon which molded round the ends of her boobs and a tiny panty that just covered her bush in the front and dipped low, low, low to display the upper crack of her ass. She hadn't counted on modeling it for Sibyl's daddy, hilt if he wanted to look, she wasn't about to blindfold him.

Betsy wasn't big anywhere. Her breasts were hand-sized lumps of rounded flesh, her waist narrow, her hips delicately flaring. She had good legs, and her father's refusal to buy her a car made certain they got plenty of exercise. Her face smacked of middle America, of hay rides and corn huskings and girls next door, but her types were a knowing blue that suggested how much fun the girl next door might be, on the right kind of hay ride. She had a dozen different ways of walking – candy striper on duty, high school girl scurrying to class, dutiful daughter in the company of parents – but as she moved toward the pool she gave Ed the standout, in her repertoire. Her hips moved in a frisky swaying manner that was sensual without being overly skittish, and she put her feet down daintily, as if she were walking across a floor full of eggs.

She stopped a moment on the edge of the pool, then dove forward, closing her eyes as she entered the water. She went under and arose in one graceful move, and when she surfaced she saw Ed standing on the pool's brim, watching her thoughtfully. "That was nice," he said. "You swim like an Olympic contender."

She smiled and went under again. When she came up, Ed was in the pool with her. Betsy wanted to swim into his arms, to wrap her good legs around his waist and feel his cock stiffen where it rubbed against the tight-stretched crotch of her bikini. She wanted to lock her arms around his neck, to stick her tongue into his mouth and keep it there till he had no choice but to suck it. She wanted him to feel her hard young tits pressed against his broad chest, to revel in the pliant suppleness of her body, to know that she could be his. God, she'd never wanted anyone or anything so much as she wanted that big cock she'd seen when they first met!

Trouble was, she didn't know how to go after him. If he'd been a boy her own age, Betsy would have been home free. High school guys were easy.

They liked to think of themselves as seducers, but she'd never been seduced. The scalps were in her belt, not theirs. But Ed Bogart wasn't a callow kid. He was a man, he'd obviously been around. Of course he had a breathy comment on catching sight of her body, but did that mean he was interested, or did it mean that he just had a good aesthetic sense?

She swam till her arms were tired, and then she climbed from the pool, lingering at the ladder. Her suit had contracted a bit, as it usually did when it was wet, and she could tell by feel alone that a generous expanse of her bare ass was on display to the man in the water. Let him look, she thought. Let him get the idea. She hopped onto the patio's stones, feeling them hot beneath her feet, and she shook the water from her body. Her tits were too small to wobble much, but anything was a help.

He was swimming on his back, and she knew he was watching her. Betsy smiled, going to her towel on the grass. She sat down and uncapped the bottle of tanning oil. Time for some sun.

Ed came out of the pool just as she began to smooth the lotion on her thighs, and she stopped abruptly. His trunks had his cock had been noticeable, it was now beautifully obvious. Even the stretchy nylon seemed to have difficulty stretching around his pecker bulge, and Betsy's cunt was wet – not only from her swim.

She gulped softly. Oh, shit, she told herself, a guy is a guy. In the dark they're all the same. Even with foot-long cocks? She had to find out about that!

Ed sprawled on the grass, stretching in the sun. Betsy eyed him. Forty something, eminently virile, definitely beddable. Would it really be so difficult? But he was Sibyl's father. So what? She and Sibyl had lust met. It wasn't as if Ed was an honorary uncle or anything like that. Betsy sucked in her breath, so that her tits lifted to their highest, fullest peaks, and then she reached behind and untied her bikini bra. When it fell away her tits remained high and youthfully uplifted, brown nipples arising to the occasion.

"What are you doing, Betsy?" Ed asked, sitting up. His eyes seemed to be fixed upon her tits as she rubbed them with oil.

"Oh, I thought I'd touch up my tan," she acknowledged, indicating the white flesh around her chest. Above and below she was a nice summery brown, but here the skin was a pale white, and the blue veins stood out in her small, milky-fleshed tits, making the nipples seem much browner than they really were. She flipped those nipples with her fingertips to test their stiffness. A tingle raced through her body at the fleeting contact, and she knew that her titties were ready for action. A shift of her thighs, bringing them together for just a moment, produced a similar tingle in her cunt, and she smiled with assurance. Rising to her knees, Betsy untied the knots which held up her panty. When she sat down on the towel once again, she was naked as a baby but infinitely more appealing.

She had a white strip round the loins, too, and her pubic hair was deceptively dark, almost black, a stunning contrast to the creamy texture of her skin. Sometimes Betsy wished she'd been blonde snatched as well as blonde-headed, and she often thought of dyeing her beaver, but today she was delighted with her image.

"It's a good idea," Ed said, standing. "I'm getting a dungeon pallor from being inside so much. I think I'll join you." It wasn't true. His skin had an olive glow, which Betsy thought was simply far-out. But she didn't contradict him. Not when he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and tugged them down in a fluid motion, which made his cock and balls dance into her line of vision.

Big, she thought. Even bigger than she'd imagined. Six inches of soft muscle dangling from a thick clump of pubic hair at the base of a perfectly flat belly, hanging between a pair of athletic, muscled legs, with a set of nuts bouncing like a miser's purse just beneath. Betsy was on her back, and her mouth tilled with saliva so swiftly, so unexpectedly, that she almost choked.

Betsy Pike took peat pride in being an aggressive girl, one who called the shots and took her pleasure where she wanted. But when she saw it finally, that cock of his, she felt pride dying inside her body. The sight turned her into a hungry bitch. She went onto hands and knees, crawling toward him, calling his name as she moved across the grass. One of her hands streaked out, grabbing his cock where he stood. He was still wet from the pool but he felt hot inside her fist. So fucking hot. "Please," she told him. "Let me have some."

"I thought that was your intention," he said smugly, unclasping her hand seemingly without effort. He was beginning to harden, thanks to the vise-like squeezes she had given, and even a semi-erection was marvelous to see.

Ed dropped to his knees beside her, helping Betsy sit up. "You're just a little girl with hot ideas," he announced. "I don't think you're ready for this."

"Ready?" Betsy exploded. She seized his hand and guided it to her pussy. "Feel me!" she commanded, making his finger a spear point and her gash the target. Her cunt opened to receive him, and she sighed tremulously as her cunt sucked at his finger. She was wet and squishy. He had an easy entrance, and he thrust deeply. Betsy moaned and her ass lifted from the grass. When she settled down again, his finger seemed to go even deeper.

He made no effort to to move his finger. Betsy took that as a green light, and once more she grasped his dick. It swelled as she caressed it, and she could feel his life-blood pumping into the shaft, making it thicker, harder, hotter, making it pulsate and hum with sexual energy. "Oh, my God," she said, looking down at the erection her hands were nursing. She thought of a better way to nurse it and, his finger still pumping politely in her cunt, she leaned toward him, her tongue shooting out in anticipation.

Once she'd touched him with her tongue, there was no turning back. Betsy's tongue was a red carpet for his dick and he rolled forward, into her mouth, coaxed by the graceful case of her sucking.

She felt him there, trapped in her orality, and she sucked gingerly. He was by far the biggest man she'd ever seen. Not a foot long, but a good eight or nine inches, all of it throbbing gristle. He filled her mouth excitingly, and she struggled to pull more of him inside. "Take it easy," she heard him say. "I don't think you're experienced enough for that."

She'd show him who was experienced enough! Betsy had never swallowed a guy, not even the smaller ones, but she'd gulp this pecker into her fucking throat, or she'd die trying! She tried, and only when she was certain she was about to strangle did she give up the useless fight. He was too big. Struggle as she would, she could get no more than three or four thick inches of him into her mouth. The rest of his cock loomed just outside her mouth, a challenge that tantalized and frustrated Betsy traumatically.

But what she couldn't give him in the way of penetration, she could Goddamn well give him in suction. No one had ever found reason to fault her sucking. She pulled in her cheeks and began to treat him to the best she could offer.

As Betsy sucked, she could feel his finger, still buried in her pussy. It wriggled round, bumping her clit as it passed, and she writhed in happy acceptance. Sometimes he'd give her a wicked twisting shove, one that tested the elasticity of her snatch's lining, and when that happened she came nearest to actually swallowing his cock. Pleasure would course through her body – she'd sigh deeply, full-throated, and she could feel his dick pushing into her mouth, flirting with the back of her tongue, and she thought, if only I could stretch my mouth the way I can stretch my pussy, I'd have him in my Goddamn lungs! But her palate was a bony, immovable barrier, and his cock was too large to by-pass it, so Betsy had to content herself with sucking as much of his prick as she could stuff into her mouth.

He had the biggest cock she'd ever seen, and he had the hardest, too. She knew that she could never go back to fucking and sucking the meagerly endowed boys around Albany. She was being spoiled in a big way. She loved it.

The friction of his finger inside her cunt was whipping Betsy to the inevitable brink of orgasm. She couldn't help it. In two seconds she was going to cream all over his fingers. Tightening her mouth on his big penile crown, she started sucking him with all the oral power she could summon.

That left most of his cock, six or seven inches, outside her mouth. Betsy's hands were small. To get a good grip on him, she had to use both of them, one wrapping around him from each side.

They made a tight glove on his cock, then began to shuck up and down rapidly. It wasn't really a suck-off Betsy reminded herself. What she was doing was little more than jacking him off into her mouth. But plenty of guys enjoyed that, and she enjoyed the slutty way it made her feel, as well as the power implicit in the act. She was directing her partner, bringing him to orgasm precisely when and where she wanted. She'd begged him for cock, but only to get things started. Now Betsy wanted to be in charge.

He moved as she sucked him and handled him, his hips swaying where he sat, his cock pushing into her mouth occasionally, ramming a bit too deeply for comfort. Betsy let that pass. She could handle almost anything, and she still had a firm grip on his peter.

Again and again he tickled her clit, making her cream, making her squirm and wiggle. She fucked herself against him, wishing he'd forget about digging out her cunt and just start pinching her trigger. Some girls couldn't bear to be touched on the clit. Betsy felt deprived if she weren't chewed and bitten. But she could teach him.

Her hands raced on his cock. She felt it tense in her grip, as if it were ready to burst into her mouth. Betsy opened her throat to receive his offering, but it didn't come. He trembled inside her fist, but she felt the trembling diminish just as abruptly as it had started. Who's sucking this cock? she thought in a pout. I am! She clamped her lips fiercely upon his knob, washing it round and round with her tongue, and started to jerk him so furiously her fists kept bumping her in the nose and chin every time they raced up to meet her face.

Still his finger reamed her pussy, and she kept moving her groin closer so he could go even deeper. The depth was only an illusion, for his finger had a preordained limit to its penetration; but as he twisted it inside her, he made his fingertip brush areas of her pussy she hadn't known existed until Ed's stimulation brought them to life. Each rotation was a fresh lesson in cuntal arousal, and Betsy was a quick learner.

As it was, he was the first to come. Betsy knew how to give sensuous hand-jobs long before she'd surrendered her cherry, and she used every trick in her extensive book. Her hands experimented with rhythmic variations while her mouth continued to bathe his cock in wet saliva and vacuum-like suction. She was good, and she knew it. The next time she felt him quiver up and down the stalk of his rod, she knew that he couldn't avoid paying his dues. She opened her throat once again, ready for the cum that was definitely on its way.

Even so, the river of jism he spouted into her sucking, ready mouth was astonishing. Betsy had never been so drenched in her life, and the taste was even more incredible. It lingered in the corners of her mouth – she wished it would always remain there, so that on bad or dreary days she could close her eyes and taste his essence once again to brighten her life – and she let what felt like a cupful accumulate before she could force herself to swallow any. When she did take her first deep drink, it was with a gulping sigh that seemed to echo endlessly.

She kept on shucking, as well as sucking, working on his cock till he'd emptied. He took a minute's break from his finger-pronging of her vagina, and she felt neglected down there. As his limpening cock slipped from her cum-smeared mouth, she twitched her bottom and impaled herself afresh on his finger, wishing that it was his big dick instead. God, she prayed, don't let him be a one-shot Charlie! Make him hard again! I wanna be fucked!

His cock no longer in her mouth, Ed was free to move. He leaned forward, stretching Betsy in the grass face up. His finger thrust into her in this new position, but it was no longer alone. He shoved his face between her thighs and began to bite her cuntlips as he finger-fucked.

"Goddamn you!" Betsy screamed, not caring if the whole town of Albany could hear her. "Goddamn you, don't stop unless it kills me!" She wiggled one leg from beneath him and clamped it round his neck, locking him into the soppy gash of her pussy. She hoped he liked the smell of her aroused cunt, because he'd have to break her Goddamned leg to get free.

Betsy had been planning to zap Sibyl's father, to throw a seduction on him he couldn't resist, but she was the one being zapped, or so it seemed. His tongue lapped at her pussy, slipping in beside the finger he already had shoved up her hole, and she couldn't decide which instrument was the better trained. He was no novice at the fine art of eating pussy, and Betsy had never been sucked more deliciously. She was spoiled for life, she thought joyously. How could she ever go back to those silly boys who thought that kissing a slit was all there was to giving a girl head? They were eager to shove their cocks into your mouth and pump cum onto your tonsils, she reflected bitterly, but when you asked for turnabouts, they'd either say cunts smelled too raunchy to eat or they'd lick around a few swipes and expect that to do the trick. Not Ed Bogart! Betsy was sure that what he was doing to her was exactly what she'd been needing all her life. She'd have to remember to thank Sibyl for inviting her to come by. And to thank herself for neglecting to confirm a reservation.

Sibyl! she thought with an unsuppressed giggle. Wouldn't Sibyl shit a brick if she saw this? But the girl was so innocent, basically. It was almost pathetic. But a stroke of luck, too. Betsy realized that she could use her friendship with Sibyl to optimum advantage the rest of the summer. Maybe she could wangle a few overnight visits. Wait for Sibyl to go beddy-bye, then hot-foot it to Daddy's room and fuck away the night. Far fucking out!

His tongue was smooth-coated but he could use it so expertly, so provocatively, that sometimes his lingual member felt as if it were made of a sexy sandpaper rubbing away on Betsy's clit. For the first time in her life she knew why her love button had been created. It wasn't for her masturbational pleasure, it wasn't even so fumble-fingered boys could diddle her to a squishy come in the backseat of a car. It was put there so that its trembling erection could be suckled and bitten and given hell by Ed's mouth. Right now if it fell out of her cunt tomorrow, it would have served its purpose. Betsy tightened her leg on Ed's neck and tried to pull her pussy up and into his face. Before she could complete the attempt, she felt herself getting dizzy with lust, and then it was all over.

Her cunt exploded internally as well as externally. She was oozing juices, which Ed lapped up as fast as she could make them drip forth, and his tongue delved inside to get more. That only kicked Betsy in the ass, lifting her into a new, more intense plateau of orgasm, one that he was quick to exploit with his mouth and finger. Her cunt had contracted around his finger – it felt enormous thrusting inside her – and she could not control the agitated jerking of her cunt muscles. It was as if she were sucking his entire hand up her tunnel, pulling his fist into her Goddamned cunt, and she loved it! She wanted to drag him inside, feeling a disappointment when the bulk of his fist wedged against her pussy and refused to slide any further. But it was enough. She humped against his hand and mouth, screaming and sobbing while he sucked her clit to bring her all the way up, and she hoped she'd never have to go all the way down. Never!

CHAPTER FIVE

She didn't make it all the way down from her supernatural orgasmic high. Betsy writhed in the euphoria of her body and senses, and she thought that the sky had never been quite so blue, the sun quite so energetically bright, the grass so soft, nor the birdsong quite so melodious. And she had never appreciated any of them so much as she did now, lying close to Sibyl's father in the warm green grass. Her mouth opened slowly – she intended to speak but there seemed no need for hurrying.

By the time she'd uttered the first syllable she was no longer lying on the grass. She was nestled in Ed's strong arms, her face pressed to the mat of soft, kinky hair on his chest, and he was walking as he carried her to the edge of the pool.

She looked down. "Hey!" she said, just before he tossed her into the translucent blue water below. Betsy first sank, then fought her way back to the surface.

"You sonofabitch!" she yelled, spitting out water. "What the hell are you…"

But he was in the water by then, too, and his arms were around her. Strong arms. Big hands. One of them closed over Betsy's right tit, the other locked around her middle, and she felt herself being pulled toward the middle of the pool. She paddled to keep afloat but she really didn't need to. His body was all the buoy she needed.

Bobbing in the water, Ed turned Betsy around. She began to bob, too, but only for as long as it took him to fit her legs around his waist. "Oh!" she said delightedly, getting the idea with marvelous rapidity. Betsy wriggled into position, letting her pubic hair slide back and forth on his hardening prick. She felt him stiffen almost at once, his cock filling the narrow space between their bodies.

"Up," he commanded, and she bobbed again, this time high enough to let his cock slide beneath her half-submerged body. Her nipples were hot against his chest as she pressed her tits against him while pulling her ass away. She felt his dick resting in the groove between her legs, warming her slit in spite of the water, and Betsy's breath caught in her throat. He had the biggest cock she'd ever seen and her cunt was big enough to be fucked, but was she spacious enough to accommodate his prick? Even now, with its bulky shaft merely riding between her thighs, she felt as if she had been pussy-choked with love. What, for Christ's sake, would it be like when he actually put the thing in her? She couldn't guess, and in spite of her tension, she was dying to find out.

She found out.

Ed tickled her submerged asshole with his fingertip until she began to giggle. That did the trick, she realized later. While Betsy was laughing hysterically and alternately trying to avoid his finger and to suck it up her asshole, Ed was using his other hand to bring his cock to her cunt. She felt the big swollen knob touch her intimately – she pressed back with an exploratory wiggle and at the same moment he thrust even more firmly at her anus. When she shied away from his asshole poking, she shied herself right onto the end of his cock, and, with his cock-head stuck inside her splayed gash, she had no choice, no desire, but to get the rest of him up her, and at once!

Betsy moved upon him, making a fierce current flow around them in the water. Her body felt light as air, his cock almost weightless inside her despite its thick, heavy bulk. Her cunt was still greasy from the finger and mouth job he'd given her on the grass, and she accepted his prick gleefully.

In spite of Betsy's frantic squirming and repeated screams of invitation, Ed fed it to her slowly, easily. "Oh, come on!" she hissed into his ear, biting his lobe to punctuate the command. "Sock it to me!" She had never fucked a man so massively, thickly built, and she was astonished at how perfectly he seemed to fit her snatch. The water had a lot to do with it, of course. She was wet and ready.

She was also eager, and delighted to find that her cuntal muscles stretched with a lithesome gracefulness which gave him a velvet carpet welcome. Realizing that she couldn't hurry him on his way, Betsy wrapped her arms around his neck more tightly, bit him on the jaw, then smacked her mouth down upon his for a sloppy, loving kiss. Her legs flexed where they fit round his waist, and she could feel the currents in the water as he kept them afloat with his feet and hands. It was like fucking on a cloud.

Water was up to their chins when Ed completed his first, lingering insertion. Betsy almost choked, for she opened her mouth to cry out her pleasure. Water poured into her and she began coughing as she rocked upon him. But the discomfort passed quickly, and all that remained was sheer delight. His cock was completely immersed in her cunt. His balls kissed the lower end of her sliced opening, his pubic hair, a soggy mat of fur, tickled her exposed wet clit, and his knobby cock-head was somewhere inside her, deeper than Betsy had ever been fucked before. Whatever Ed's length, she thought in abandon, it seems a perfect match for the length of her cunt. When he made his cock dance inside her to emphasize their union, she could feel its tip bump time after time on the mouth of her womb. If he'd filled her with his cum right then, Betsy thought, she would have come a bucketful to match his explosion. She knew she was a pretty girl, but he made her feel beautiful.

"Oh, God," she whispered, smacking her lips. "Let's fuck!" And without waiting for him to answer, Betsy began to move her ass.

She couldn't rise high enough to give herself the long, ramming thrusts she craved, but her cunt was such a tight glove around his pecker that it didn't matter. The slightest motion of Ed's dong spread her pussy marvelously and made warm juices flow. She knew it was going to be dreamy.

"Lean back," he commanded, and she pushed her upper body away from him. He leaned forward, his face knifing through the water, and he took an oral beachhead on the stiff brown point of her right tit. His teeth caressed her in a lovingly savage manner, scraping the delicate skin around her areola before closing upon the nipple. The long spur of erectile tissue already throbbed with arousal, but she felt it lift to new heights when Ed began to chew her. He combined teeth, tongue and lips in a fashion that was more sensual, more sophisticated, more soul-stirring than anything the local boys had ever done to her, and Betsy knew, if she had not guessed before, that she had lucked out. This was no boy, this was a man, and he was rapidly turning her into a real woman.

"Please," she whimpered when she had endured as much as she could. "Suck the other one now. I want to feel that way all over."

"What way?" he asked, raising his face from her boob. "How do you want to feel?"

"Like a bitch," she moaned. "Like a Goddamn bitch in heat!"

"Try this," Ed suggested, and he planted his mouth on her left tit. When he ground his teeth on her nipple, Betsy moaned and screamed and paddled her feet in the water. She flailed with her hands, sending a tidal wave across the surface of the pool. Chlorinated water sprayed her face, some of it entering her nostrils, her mouth, but she didn't care. Her cunt was quite full of his cock, for she was on full downstroke, and he was eating her tit as if it were a piece of irresistibly sweet candy. Betsy wrapped her hands around his head and gave herself up to enjoyment.

She started to move her hips a bit faster, eager to have him inside her more deeply and more often. Ed cooperated, pulling, back to prod her more insistently, and she understood more fully what it was like to be fucked by him. She loved it.

He spat out the water he'd sucked in, along with her boob, when he released her nipple, and when Betsy kissed him, she was positive she could taste her breast on his lips. She thrust her tongue into his mouth and wiggled it, hoping that he'd continue sucking. When he did, it was with a compulsion that startled Betsy. He pulled on her tongue, capturing it with his strong oral muscles, and she felt as if he were trying to pull her entire face into his mouth. Her lips thrust eagerly against his as her tongue shot incredibly far and fast. For a second she wondered if her tongue might not be on the verge of tickling his tonsils.

She felt herself floating as well, and it occurred to her that they were swimming once again. Betsy was in no mood to resist, and her mouth was so completely occupied she couldn't have spoken out in protest. She went where Ed directed her, her cunt still moving in short, quick strokes on his thick pecker.

His body seemed to have more support now, she thought. Her eyes, which had closed automatically during the kiss (just as they closed automatically whenever she began to suck a big, hard cock) opened and she saw that they were very near the edge of the pool. Ed's feet were touching bottom – they were in the shallow end – and he sidled against the pool's edge, one arm resting on the brim.

It was more comfortable now, she decided, her tongue still buried in his mouth. She put her near arm on the ledge and found that it could be very comfortable. Their bodies were supported by one another and by the solid construction. They could forget about balance and concentrate on fucking for fucking's sake. Betsy hummed, making her tongue wiggle like an erotic snake inside Ed's mouth, and she shoved her tits against his chest. Her cunt lifted from his dick, lurching high, almost disengaging him, and she slammed back down, hard, fierce, impaling herself on his cock.

This time he rammed her cunt so hard Betsy wanted to scream. She had dreamed of balling a man as big as Ed, as capable of bringing her to ecstatic fever, but her dreams had been abysmally poor in their conception. When he bumped her womb with his cock point, she felt her insides turning cartwheels, and the only thing she knew was that she wanted to feel that same sensation again, now!

His legs tensed as Betsy began to ride him furiously. Her cunt was a slick glove for his big cock, and she writhed from side to side, stretching herself more than she'd ever been stretched, but confident that her elastic young cunt would easily regain its proper shape and tightness. Each time she came down, his balls jerked against the lower corner of her slit, and if she twisted in a certain way at deepest penetration, she could get full measure of delight from the rubbing of his soaked pubic fur against her crotch. Her clit was stiff and hot, despite its long immersion – she was certain it would be wrinkled from the water but she didn't care – and whenever his cock moved in her, the push-pull he exerted on her cuntlips squeezed her clit just so – Betsy's tummy heaved, her ass jerked, and her legs tightened their knot around Ed's waist.

He mouthed her tongue for what felt an eternity. A lesser man would have strangled but Ed Bogart merely kept on sucking. It was Betsy whose lungs collapsed from the need to breathe, and it was Betsy's tongue that slithered in retreat. She licked his mouth as she inhaled and her heart was pounding like a jackhammer inside her breast. She leaned against him, letting Ed feel the agitated flutter of her aroused pulse. Her nipple pressed stiffly upon his chest.

Betsy lifted and fell, buoyant in the water, her cunt swallowing the thrusts of his cock. "You're spoiling me," she said in excitement. "I'll never do it with anyone else again. It can't be this good again unless I dolt with you!"

"Don't sell yourself short," Ed smiled. "You're contributing a lot." He underlines his praise by giving her another chance to show just how accommodating her pussy could be. His cock slicked up into her with an unexpected twisting lunge that was harder than Betsy had anticipated and which seemed to go deeper than she had yet been plumbed. She thrust herself upon him, pushing at his chest and shoulders with all her body, and his back arched in resistance. His legs were bending, too – Betsy felt them sinking into the water with alarming speed. She closed her eyes and held her breath, clawing him with her legs and refusing to give him the chance to withdraw his cock from her hungry pussy.

They sank fully, still fucking, but their bodies bobbed to the surface. "Out of the pool," Ed commanded, blinking his eyes to clear away the chlorinated water which flowed across their orbs. "We'll finish on solid ground."

His cock popped from her – Betsy was astonished at the iron strength of his arms as he pulled her legs from around his body and lifted her forcefully from his dick. She flopped over and her ass stuck up like a low reef. Ed slapped her on one cheek.

"Step on it," he ordered.

She swam toward the step bars, seized the guides with both hands, and pulled herself from the water like a gymnast. Her pussy dripped as she moved forward on the files, but she looked over her shoulder, saw him coming out of the pool too, and Betsy dropped to her knees where she stood. Her legs were braced, set widely, and she knew that her cunt was on display to him, an inviting target framed by her thighs. She reached down to touch her pussy, fingers stroking her split, making it even hotter, wetter, more open for him, and he was coming toward her on swift feet, his cock still lancing upward from his matted hair, gleaming, reddened, with water running off.

She rubbed herself more vigorously, finger slipping inside her pussy sometimes and doing a world of good whenever it did. Betsy moaned like a whipped dog, realizing that she was only in the stage of preparation. Fucking in the water had been a turn-on, she was making sure she stayed turned on right now, and the real action was still to come. "Fuck me like a bitch," she whimpered. "Fuck me like a Goddamn bitch!" Her hand caressed her pussy while her ass swiveled from side to side, already approximating the rhythm of screwing. She touched her clit, found it thicker, harder, and hotter than she had ever known it to be, and Betsy knew that she could never again be this ready for balling.

He knelt behind her, his dick-head bumping her finger out of its playground. Betsy's hand darted away, happy to surrender, and she felt Ed's prick begin to slide back and forth across her damp, dark beaver.

Betsy lunged forward in shock as his cock entered. Her cunt had almost reverted to its original shape and snugness, and his sudden insertion spread her immediately. She felt her pussy muscles stretching to accommodate him, tightening back as much as they could, and she reached back to clutch one of his hands for security.

He pushed his way up her in circular stokes, the head of his peter reaming through her wet, hot cunt, and Betsy couldn't keep her ass from wiggling joyously. He seemed to go even deeper this way, as if his cock were actually fucking into and not just against the opening of her uterus. Her belly swelled and that made her entire body glow and hum.

"Harder," she whispered. "Fuck me harder!" Her ass smacked against his belly, bumping him two or three times in quick succession while she bathed his dick in her cuntal juices. She wanted him and all he could give her.

Ed grabbed one cheek of her perky ass, his fingers digging into the soft, pliable flesh, and he pulled away from her, most of his cock vacating its squishy home. Then he shoved her hard, harder than she would have believed possible. His cock slammed in, held, then pulled back once again. His next shoving penetration was even harder, fiercer. Betsy howled like a bitch in the fury of heat and she squeezed his hand. "Yes!" she shrieked.

If he took it as a command, it was because she meant him to. Her cunt sucked him in, rippled as if it meant to keep him there for all time, then let him pull free for yet another smashing plunge. Betsy knew that her ass would be black and blue tomorrow, if it wasn't already, but she could live with that. The fucking – harder, faster – that, Betsy was certain, she could not live without.

Resisting orgasm was a strain upon the girl. She wanted to come. Her cunt, her ovaries, every part of her sexuality – all screamed for release. But she wanted to make it with Ed, to spill her fiery juices at the same blinding moment when he filled her body with his. She wanted to reach down afterwards, to touch the oozing jism mixture as it seeped from her gash, to know that they had shared the sexual joy from start to finish. Betsy nibbled on her lip, begging her body to endure just a while longer. Soon, she promised, it would be over and worth the waiting.

But her cunt nonetheless betrayed her. The scraping friction of Ed's knob withdrawing from her in a particularly wicked spiral pattern was more than her racked pussy tissue could bear. Betsy shivered, she sobbed, she wept, and she exploded. The nerves in and around her cunt felt as if their covering of skin had been torn away, leaving the raw wires exposed and vividly tactile, and she could feel the return of his cock with every single cell in the slick, squishy lining of her cunt. He rammed into her, knowing that she was in the throes of orgasm, and he seemed to take a particular pleasure in fucking her with an added degree of roughness, of slamming his cocktip against her womb and prodding her hard before he withdrew to do it again. The rippling muscles of her cunt licked him as he plunged, coaxed him as he pulled back, constricted delightedly as he thrust home once more. She sighed, licked her lips, she drooled upon the tiles beneath her head. Her tits were hard as stones, the nipples so incredibly stiff, tight and erect, she was certain they'd break off if touched too roughly.

Ed squeezed the buttock he held possessively. Betsy moaned, her eyes awash with tears of joy. "If it's not all right for me to come in you," he warned, "you'd better say so. Fast!"

"Come!" she cried, "please, please, please come in me!" Her ass twisted against him, her cunt still shimmering and bubbling, and she sucked at his cock with it, begging him with her body as well as her mouth.

Ed plunged forward, holding his cock firmly against the mouth of her cunt, and she felt the sudden jerks as he unloaded his jism. Each time he squirted – and there were at least six individual jerks before she stopped counting – Betsy's ass bounced up, and she felt as if she were floating by the third or fourth burst. It was safe – her IUD had never failed – and though her over-worked cunt was in an agony of muscular strain, she wanted him to keep on squirting his cum into her body. She tightened her cunt as much as possible, locking his dick inside her, and she squeezed him, anxious to tickle all the jism possible from his nuts.

He leaned forward, his body coming to rest upon her back. He bit her on the shoulder, a gentle love bite which made her purr for more, and he got one hand onto her tits. She felt his caresses, but neither nipple broke off. Stiff, she thought, but certainly not brittle. She turned and kissed him. Because of the position in which they rocked, Betsy couldn't kiss him directly. But she could stick out her tongue, stick it out so far its roots ached, and she could lick his mouth like a mother cat bathing her kitten. Ed's tongue lanced out in reply, met her own, and they dueled appreciatively while her breasts throbbed in his big hands and her pussy drank gluttonously of his cum.

Her knees ached where they dug into the tiled surface, and she didn't think it worthwhile to brace herself any longer. Betsy eased her body downward, the tiles coming up to meet her belly, and Ed slid down upon her, his hands trapped beneath her, still clutching her tits. She felt him jerk inside her cunt a time or two, and then his cock began, to soften noticeably. She sighed wistfully and she could swear that he did, too, as his slackening prick popped out of her sticky hole.

Ed rolled off her back and Betsy moved onto her side. She reached down between her legs to touch the ooze that flowed from her cunt. God, she thought, there was so much! Hem and his, mixed. She had never come so wetly, nor had her pussy ever ached so much after sex. But it was a delicious kind of aching, a satisfied, smug pleasance which imprinted itself unforgettably on her memory when she rubbed the slit and its tender, still half-swollen pussy lips. Any time in the future, she thought. Any time. One touch down there and she'd remember exactly how this was. Every lovely second of it. She stroked herself again, programming her pussy one more time, and when she took her hand away, the fingers were shiny and aromatic from the sexual juices which coated them.

Betsy turned her blue eyes upon his face. "I have never been so-so-SO fucked! Ever. In my life. I don't know how to…"

"Wanna go around again?" he asked, fixing her with a sure stare, and Betsy turned several colors in succession before she understood that he was putting her on. Then she felt safe laughing.

Betsy relaxed, her head on his chest. They were on the soft grass once again, the tree shady overhead, and if his hand cupped her breast or if her fingers made a loop round the base of his recumbent cock, both understood that these were only caresses rather than challenges.

It really was delicious, Betsy thought. She felt great. Fulfilled. She'd come a bucketful, and so had he. This was a day she could never forget. Kind of weird, though. She'd asked him why he hadn't resisted her initial pass, why he'd gone along with her, and he'd replied something about "swimming with the current" and "lines of least resistance" and what he called the Tao, none of which she understood precisely. What he seemed to mean was that he had decided, philosophically, that fucking her would be less bothersome than not fucking her, since she was determined to be fucked. But he'd taken over the aggression, hadn't he? When he dumped her into the pool, dived in after, and shoved his cock up her slot? So who was floating with the current or seeking the line of least resistance then?

It was too bad. Betsy was a girl who prided herself on being utterly realistic. And she was realistic-minded enough to know that this relationship, if it could even be called that, had no future in a long-term sense. Ed and Sibyl would move away come the end of summer. Odds were astronomical that Betsy would never see either of them again. She could easily become addicted to this man's brand of sexing, but she was smart enough not to let herself do that. Besides – to him, she must be only one of many girls, even if he was the most satisfying screw she'd ever had. "I'll find out about Sibyl's schedule," she told him. "Candy striping, I mean. And I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Mmmm," he said, squeezing her tit. "But she'll be home soon – it must be almost four. I hate to love and run, but…"

"Oh," Betsy said. "You want me to cut out, right? Well, sure," she said, feeling only a little miffed.

"I'm thinking of Sibyl," Ed replied. "She might be upset to find you here. You don't really know her, I suspect. Christ, I don't really know her, not yet. We've never had a relationship, a real relationship, and sometimes she puzzles the hell out of me. At the moment, for example, she's upset about something. I don't know what. She barely spoke to me last night, but later, when I was in bed, I was meditating my way to sleep and – well, I became aware that she was nearby. She was standing in the doorway, staring at me – she must have thought I was asleep – and she was crying. I could see tears rolling down her cheeks, and I could hear the faintest sobs. But when I ask her if anything is wrong, she smiled and said, 'of course not'."

Talk about weird, Betsy thought.

"Sibyl is very shy, very withdrawn," Ed went on. "I don't think she's ever had a close friend. When I was out of the country she used to write me thirty and forty-page letters, once or twice a week. She's sixteen, Betsy, and she's never had a date, never kissed a boy, never had her little heart broken. You could be a very good influence on her."

"Me?"

"You. You're outgoing, gregarious, self confident. You could be good for Sibyl. Introduce her to people. Help her make more friends. Let her meet some boys, maybe."

"Oh," Betsy said, smiling wickedly. "You want me to get her laid!"

She knew as soon as she'd said that she shouldn't have. Ed's face clouded so swiftly, so unmistakably, that she had a moment of alarm, fearing he might hit her. She recoiled, preparing for a blow that never came. "I was only kidding," she said in a fluttery, defensive tone.

"It wasn't a very good joke."

"I'm sorry! So I have an X-rated sense of humor. It goes with the territory! But I know what you're talking about. Sibyl has a father fixation, right? And you'd like her to find out that there are things in life other than worshiping Daddy."

"Something like that," Ed agreed. He tied her bra into place and helped her with the knots of her panties. Betsy slipped into her beach jacket, kissed him goodbye, and set off for home, promising to do something nice for Sibyl. "It'll cost you, though," she hollered over her shoulder, and he only smiled and waved.

Jesus, she thought, talk about kinky! One minute he's dishing out the most bitchin' screw since screwing was invented, the next I'm Dear Abby and he's writing in for advice on teen-age social adjustment problems. It's a wonder I don't go schizo.

But she'd do something, just as she'd promised. She knew a guy from school, kind of thin and sensitive. He wrote poetry Betsy didn't understand, he did a little painting, and she suspected he might be a closet fag. But he wasn't sexually aggressive and maybe he and Sibyl could be platonic and sensitive together for what remained of the summer. Besides, Betsy mused, if she could get Sibyl dated up for a week or two, she could drop by for evening visits at the Bogart place and see if Ed knew any more tricks. Yeah, she thought. One good turn deserves another.

CHAPTER SIX

Betsy wanted to talk to Sibyl but it seemed that their paths had no way of crossing the next day. Sibyl had been drafted into leading story time activities in the children's ward, while Betsy found herself smiling as she tended the punchbowl at a reception for a new doctor. It wasn't till the end of the day that the two girls came together, in the locker room.

Betsy was hanging up her pink frock when Sibyl came past. "Oh, hi!" she bubbled. "I've been trying to catch you all day."

Sibyl nodded. "Daddy told me you stopped by the house yesterday. Sorry I wasn't home."

"Oh, it's okay," Betsy said, willing herself not to look too smug. "I had a swim and talked to your dad. He's really nice." She wasn't wearing a bra, so she hurried into her blouse. Sibyl's face had begun to turn a noticeable red. "Say, hope it's okay if I come by again. Or is that being pushy?"

"Of course it's all right," Sibyl shrugged, removing her pinafore and dress. Her body was slim and pale – and it wasn't a bad body either, but Sibyl didn't carry herself well, so she tended to look frail and even skinny. They could have traded clothes on the spot, and everything would have fit perfectly, except the underwear. Sibyl's bra and panties were clean and crisp, but very undistinguished. Utilitarian. Definitely un-chic.

Sibyl sat down on the bench, her shirt and jeans beside her. "What did you and Daddy talk about?" she asked, obviously trying to sound very casual.

"Mmmm," Betsy shrugged, buttoning her blouse halfway up, then adjusting the lapels so that her braless cleavage was on display. "Just stuff." She took her shorts from the locker but didn't put them on. Instead, she sat down, about a foot from Sibyl. Sibyl was fixated on her father, she remembered, and her father had asked Betsy to help the girl broaden her horizons. "Look," she said brightly, "are you doing anything Saturday? I thought maybe you and I might do something. How about a picnic? I know a couple of guys, too. There's this one named David, see. He's kinda quiet and he writes poetry – I think you'd like him…"

"No," said Sibyl, "I don't believe…"

"Come on," Betsy urged. "You shouldn't sit around at home all the time. It isn't good for you. I mean, sure, your dad is a great guy – God, he's soooo sexy and gorgeous." She could hear the enthusiasm building in her voice but she seemed powerless to control it. "But you can't spend all your time with him. It would just be a picnic, for Christ's sake, and you might go for David – I think he's really your type, very sweet and quiet, and not the aggressive kind. Oh, come on, Sib!" Again the red-haired girl shook out a no. It was a pouty-faced no that angered Betsy.

"Well, look, dammit," she went on, "I wouldn't even have asked, except that your dad told me he was worried about you, that you seemed to have some kinky sort of hang-up about him and he was afraid it was unhealthy for you. Come on, Sib, loosen up! He's one of the top ten all-time, sure but he's your father, and you shouldn't moon around in his doorway at nights, crying while he's asleep, or seems to be. Let me introduce you around town. Get to meet some people. Guys, especially. Time's wasting. If you're sixteen and never even been kissed…"

Sibyl's face went chalky white. "How do you know all those things? About me, I mean? That I've – that I – about the other night…" She threw her arms around herself, as if she meant to protect whatever was left of her privacy.

Betsy touched her lightly on the knee, her hand resting there. "Your dad told me," she confided. "I probably shouldn't have lost my temper, but it's true. He did ask me to help you, and I figured I owed him that much, for God's sake." And for God's sake, she thought, I am saying too much! Did Sibyl think so?

Sibyl did. Her eyes enlarged and ideas moved across their soft green surfaces. She made a gasping sound. "Did…" she began and then, "You didn't."

"I guess so," Betsy confessed, smiling. "If you mean, did I make it with him. And I'd do it again. Sib, I can see why you might be hung on Ed. He's got his act together, you know?" Her hand squeezed Sibyl's knee in a friendly, secret-sharing way. "So, how about Saturday? I'll make a call or two, fix us a lunch…"

She hadn't noticed that Sibyl's face was changing color rapidly, from dead-white to flaming red and every shade between. But she heard the sputtering gasp, felt the tension of muscle as Sibyl's body stiffened. And then Sibyl jumped to her feet, panting like a bull about to charge.

"You slut!" she hissed. "I hate you! I hate you, I hate him! Take Saturday and your stupid friends and your stupid self and go straight to hell!" She lurched back against one of the lockers and hung there trembling like a butterfly pinned to a display board.

Betsy sat up in surprise at Sibyl's tirade. If those green eyes had been lasers, thought Betsy, I'd be dead! The look of hatred on Sibyl's sweet, agreeable face had made astounding changes. Sibyl looked like a jealous beast brought to bay, unable to fight but unwilling to surrender. One of her hands made a claw and her bra-cupped tits lifted and fell rapidly, in agitation.

"I'm sorry," said Betsy. "I didn't mean for you to know. But it happened, and I'm glad it happened to me."

"You're like the other one," Sibyl moaned. "A cheap slut. Sex! Did he fuck you? Did you suck on him? Did he squirt that repulsive stuff all over you? I'll bet you liked it, didn't you? Acting like a crude animal comes natural to your type!"

"A hell of a lot you know about it," sniffed Betsy, angry at Sibyl's words and tone. "A bloody hell of a lot you know about anything! It was the best I've ever had, and I've had plenty! If that makes me a crude animal, at least I'm a healthy one! We fucked, all right, and we sucked each other off, and he shot me so Goddamn full of that repulsive stuff, as you call it, that I squished all the way home! And I'd do it again – in a minute! – in front of you, if I felt like it. How do you like that, Sibyl? Would you get off watching me ball your daddy? I know I'd get off doing it. He's dynamite, with a fuse that long!" Sibyl moaned defensively, turning her head away. Her glare had dissolved during Betsy's reply, and now her face looked chalky framed between the falling tresses of red. "I hate him," she whispered. "I hate him."

Betsy leaned closer. "No, you don't!" she shouted triumphantly. "Look – it makes you hot! You're dripping!"

"No," Sibyl said weakly.

"The hell!" snapped Betsy. "Your panties are so wet they're gluing to your cunt! Can't you feel yourself oozing? Can't you even smell it?" One of her hands shot toward Sibyl, index finger pointing out straight. The tip of that finger pressed home, upon Sibyl's panty crotch, and it seemed to sink into a musky swamp.

Sibyl's pussy was dripping uncontrollably. Her white panties were already near-transparent, and the delicate slice of her cunt was obvious in the tight-stretched, soaked nylon. Even the puffs of her pubic hair were on plain display, each little curl showing in wet relief.

Sibyl stiffened at the first brush of Betsy's finger. "Nnnnn," she whined, lifting onto tiptoes, as if she meant to haul her cunt out of touching range. The locker door rattled as she moved and Betsy pushed more firmly. Sibyl's pussy was hot and incredibly wet. The oozing aura of cunt-juice bathed Betsy's finger, while the vaginal fragrance seemed to fill the room with its musky perfume. Betsy's head swam giddily and the blonde candy striper shivered uncontrollably. The tremors passed up and down her arm, making that finger jiggle where it touched Sibyl's panty crotch, and Betsy could feel the red-haired girl's cuntlips swelling as she stroked them.

God, she thought, it feels just like mine would after an hour or so of making out. I get about that wet, and then I can't sit still unless I get some cock, fast and hard. But Sibyl hadn't been making out. She'd gotten so wet, so hot, merely from thinking about her father and Betsy fucking.

Sibyl moaned and her thighs seemed to lock upon Betsy's finger, trapping it against the plump swell of her pussy. Betsy sighed and leaned in closer, trying to disengage her finger. She sought to work it loose, now that she'd proved her point, but it was as if they had been glued together. Her finger's stiffened dart clung to Sibyl's crotch, refusing to break away no matter how Betsy tried. What is this? she wondered.

"Oh, stop," Sibyl whispered, her hips beginning to sway from side to side. Her thighs clenched Betsy like a vise. If she'd been serious about stopping, Betsy asked herself, wouldn't Sibyl at least let go? She tried one more time to pull her finger away, with no more success than before.

It was the first time Betsy had ever touched another girl's cunt, and she was rather surprised to discover that it felt very much like her own. Softer, perhaps, more yielding, with a petite slice that was dainty-lipped and tactile as hell on the other side of a wisp of nylon panty. Betsy nibbled her lower lip and she started working her finger with delicate, tentative motions. Again the locker door rattled. Sibyl's shoulders were bumping it as she began moving in time with Betsy's slow finger strokes.

It's like doing myself, Betsy thought. God, I can even feel it, my finger sawing back and forth on my own cunt! She had to look down to verify. No, she wasn't touching herself. But her sensory centers were picking up something. What? Interested, and more than a little turned-on, Betsy's mind willed her finger to move just a bit faster.

Sibyl groaned, her hands on her face, stroking herself from temples to jaw. She wasn't gripping with her thighs now and Betsy could have jerked her hand away easily. She didn't. And each time that finger slid across the sticky-wet center of Sibyl's panties, the red-headed girl arched and sank and pushed her pussy against Betsy's hand in a rhythmic, caressing motion.

Betsy brought her own thighs together. She could feel a seeping of juice from the lips of her cunt too, a wetness that was rapidly soaking her panties, too. Thank God cunt stains washed out! These were her favorite bikinis, the yellow ones, with the big black and white smiling face. Everyone said they were the cutest pair she owned, and she agreed. She tightened her legs, accentuating the unexpected bubble of her own arousal, and she became more aggressive in her fingering of Sibyl's cunt.

Betsy knew by hearsay that girls sometimes did things like this together. She'd never bothered, since she'd been too busy doing this sort of thing with boys. But she felt no guilt as she masturbated Sibyl – only a curiosity, a growing excitement, and with it the knowledge that a good job on Sibyl would be nearly as fulfilling as a good job on herself.

She couldn't understand why that should be. Of course she was using her legs to caress her own cunt. She did that nearly all the time, without even thinking about it. But each squeezing press of her legs now was sending jolts of ferociously orgasmic invitation through her body, making her cunt seem to swell, to grow ever wetter and hotter, and she found difficulty breathing evenly. Her finger moved with a fierce impatience on Sibyl, and she was scarcely aware that her girl friend was even now clutching her blonde locks, fingers digging into Betsy's skull, her mouth cooing and puffing.

Back and forth, like a saw, her finger jerked, the knuckle grazing and bruising the panty-covered lips of Sibyl's slice. There wasn't much coverage by now. Sibyl's undies had soaked through and seemed to get even wetter each time Betsy fondled. She could feel body heat, and she could not avoid knowing intimately the details of Sibyl's cuntal flesh. The pliable softness, the yielding as the pussy opened, the tension as it closed, the throbbing impetuosity of Sibyl's clit, which Betsy brushed in passing on at least every other foray. She could hear the delicate rustle of sopping pubic hairs, but that sound was nearly drowned by the low, husky moans from Sibyl's throat. Betsy felt that snatch growing more sticky, more vulnerable. It seemed to open, sucking in finger and panties at the same tune. Betsy chirped in surprise, giving her finger full rein. She pressed upon the slice of Sibyl's cunt and thrust, sinking, sinking, sinking.

Betsy's heart skipped every other beat for what seemed an eternity as she performed her first finger-fuck on another girl. She stabbed, then pulled back till she'd almost vacated, and she stabbed once more, her finger thrusting deeply, lewdly, turning in a semi-circular fashion as it penetrated. Sibyl's drenched nylon pants were no match for Betsy's carefully manicured nail. One scratch and…"God!" Betsy whined. She had torn through the panties and now her finger was buried in real, slick, pulsating flesh! She wanted to thrust deeper, harder, but she was already as deep as her finger was long and the rest of her hand ground in futility at Sibyl's pussy.

For Sibyl, it was all over when Betsy broke through. The panties were like a nylon cherry. When they tore, she didn't bleed, but the bare finger inserted within her tickled juice out of her cunt. It kept wriggling and twisting, and so did Sibyl. She swayed from side to side, her thighs lifting and falling, her cunt grinding down to meet Betsy's hand, and even the padded cups of her bra couldn't quite conceal her erect nipples. Sibyl took her hands off Betsy's head, placed them on her tits, and squeezed until she ached and tears oozed from her eyes just as juice oozed from her pussy. Her lips were moving but no words were coming out, just a low-pitched, keening moan. The blonde girl trembled as she felt the orgasmic contractions which milked at her finger. If Betsy's digit had been a stiff cock, Sibyl would have a cuntful of jism right now.

Betsy was tingling and her tits seemed hard as lead balls inside her shirt. With her free hand she stroked her blouse, purring as she felt the aroused curves of her boobs, and then her hand was diving low, into the panty-covered gap between her legs. She shoved her fingers inside, pushing the lacy nylon trim out of her way, and her hand made thrilling contact with the dark-flossed mound of her pussy. Her nails were too long for uncontrolled masturbation – she was surely scratching her tender flesh – she didn't give a fuck! Her cunt opened wide and the fingers slid inside. Bunched together, they almost gave Betsy the feeling of being screwed by a relatively small cock. She sucked them up her pussy, and for good measure she began to ream Sibyl afresh, in counterpoint to her own masturbatory caresses.

She'd brought Sibyl to orgasm. Couldn't she do the same for herself? Betsy chewed her lips as she frigged in and out of her tight young hole, and she felt her body lifting, building up to it. She rammed her finger into Sibyl with an almost sadistic vehemence, drawing strength from Sibyl's rippling pussy action, from the younger candy striper's moaning cry of delight, and then her body responded just as she'd known it must. Betsy's cunt-dredging hand was awash with her cream, numb from the agitated vaginal contractions, and she closed her eyes in joy, shivering and whimpering as she came.

"I never did that before either," Betsy confessed later. "Not with a girl. But I don't think it makes either of us a lesbian. God, Sibyl, do you always come so hard? I thought you'd break off my finger! Are you sure you're a shy, withdrawn virgin? I mean, you come like a hot bitch."

Sibyl was dressed now, except for the torn panties, which she'd thrown into a wastebasket. It felt strange, but good, having her jeans crotch seam tight against her bare, tingly cunt, and she touched herself between the legs, relishing that good strangeness. "Honest," she smiled. "I really am a virgin. Except that I don't have a maidenhead. When I was twelve I had an accident in gym class." She squirmed, remembering that second of sharp pain, the sudden smear of carmine in her white gym shorts, the flustered face of Sister Barbara, the physical education instructor, when she realized what had happened. Still, she was a virgin. Unless Betsy's finger counted.

"And I think you're definitely hung up on your father," Betsy went on. "Don't deny it. You started creaming when I told you about him and me."

"I guess it's true," Sibyl agreed, blushing. "I think I've always felt that way about him. He's so good-looking, so romantic. I mean, like in glamorous adventure, not be a gigolo or something." She giggled nervously. "But I didn't realize it till the other day. Bets, I came home from the hospital – it was the day I met you, remember? You were sucking that boy – a crazy day, I guess – anyway, I got home, and Daddy was upstairs in bed with the girl who types his scripts. I watched them for a long time. He-he fucked her. She came, too. But he was still hard, so he made her suck on him until he squirted semen into her mouth. I felt sick, watching, but – I don't know, Bets, I felt strange, too. I didn't understand at the time. It was so disgusting. He was sticking that big thing of his…"

"Big is hardly the word," Betsy cut in, licking her lips.

"Sticking it into her body – her cunt – and into her mouth, too. Later I went up to my room and started touching myself, just like you were touching me. I hadn't masturbated in a couple of years, but I did then. I fingered myself till it hurt, and I couldn't forget how they'd looked, making love on his bed. And I-I wished it could have been me, instead of her! Bets, is that terrible? Do you think I'll burn in hell?"

"I don't even think there is a hell," Betsy said firmly, "and if there is, it's probably so full of politicians and military leaders, they don't have room for a poor little kid who just likes to play with her pussy and pretend she's getting fucked by a near, dear relation. Oh, look, kid, face the facts. He is your dad. He's a dynamite screw, too, but the only way you're ever gonna find that out is to hear it from someone who's been there. It's incest, and I don't believe he'd go along with you. No matter how doting he is."

Sibyl sighed mournfully. Betsy was right. It was only a dream. The urge had always been there, in her subconscious, but she'd not allowed herself to admit or accept it. Funny. They said that accepting your problem was the first step toward curing it.

"Look, Sib," Betsy added. "Let's have that picnic Saturday. You need something to get your mind off your daddy and his bod, and if you're willing to try desperate measures, I think we can do just that. I'll round up a couple of horny, adequate guys, and you and I will just go wild on them. You need to do some screwing around, to find out that the world is full of men, that a great many of them would be interested in giving you about six inches of love and affection."

CHAPTER SEVEN

David, the sensitive one, was definitely out. Betsy knew of no empirical evidence that he even had a cock, let alone that he'd be interested in using it on a girl. She needed guys whose past performance was a matter of record, and so she chose Wayne and Jim Marsh. They were cousins but looked more like brothers. She'd dated both of them last school year, though never simultaneously. Wayne was slightly better than Jim but neither was inadequate. It was just what Sibyl needed – a day in the country with a horny young guy who could help her forget about that silly, pathetic daddy fixation. And later she'd find more dates for Sibyl. This wasn't exactly what Ed had asked her to do – she really was pimping for the girl, more or less – but it was certainly the best thing for Ed's daughter. No one had to let him in on the secret; that Sibyl was going to be fucked out of her incestuous attachment to him. He'd assume she was just growing up.

"Remember," she told Sibyl as they waited for the boys to come for them. "Don't get attached. They're like St. Bernard puppies – cute and frisky, but before you know it, they've turned into lumbering clumsy hounds. Use them, then dump them."

Sibyl frowned. "Don't you even like them?" she asked.

"Oh, sure, I suppose," Betsy smirked, "but only for what they can do for me. Anyway, men have been using women that way for thousands of years, and we've always had to put up with it. Finally, the shoes are on our feet. Chin up, Sib! You haven't lost the rubbers I gave you? Well, don't forget to use them. And don't worry about the Pope. He doesn't have a cunt to watch out for."

Betsy's father's uncle was the owner of a large tract of country land not far from Albany, and it was a perfect spot for a picnic. The property was posted, eliminating the problem of snoopy trespassers, Uncle Gerald living in Chicago, and there weren't any neighbors. It was hill, valley and woods, with a lovely meadow set like a bright emerald in the midst of everything, and in the meadow, not far from a silvery brook, Betsy and Sibyl and Wayne and Jim spread their picnic lunch.

Betsy took care of the matchmaking. The boys were easily manipulated, and it was no trouble pairing off Wayne and Sibyl. Sibyl was nervous at first, still rather withdrawn, but Wayne had an easy manner and she began to warm to him. After the picnic debris had been cleared away, Betsy suggested to Jim that he take her for a long walk in the woods, and he was quick to agree. "Later, Sib!" Betsy trilled as she and Jim set off, holding hands.

Sibyl felt more alone than ever before in her life. Wayne was smiling at her as he finished a can of Falls City, and she wondered what he must be thinking. He was a good-looking guy, tall, neatly built, though with a boyish callowness that could get tiresome after a while. He put his hand on her thigh as he stuffed the beer can into the garbage, and he slid closer to Sibyl.

She held her breath, not sure how to react. His hand was powerful and big, caressing the inner curve of her slim leg, and she felt chilly all over. When she inhaled, her tits seemed to lift invitingly, and she saw his eyes take in her nipples. She'd been fitted for today, courtesy of Betsy, in a short pants jumpsuit whose zipper closing was nearly half open. Under the outfit, Sibyl wore only a few drops of Tabu in her cleavage. She felt naked even with the jumpsuit on, but it really wasn't a scary sensation. Her nipples were making stiff points in the clingy material, and her tits seemed to be hardening slightly.

Wayne squeezed her leg, making Sibyl open her mouth in a soundless cry. She leaned toward him, her hand dropping to cover his, and he leaned at the same time. His mouth touched hers before she had time to pull away.

Sibyl had never been kissed before, and she was sorry. It was much nicer than she'd have guessed. His mouth pressed upon hers, wet, almost sloppy, but pleasant, too. She could tell that his lips were parted, so she opened her mouth, a trifle as well, and his tongue grazed her lips.

It tickled. She was on the point of giggling when the boy moved closer to her. One of his hands went round her waist, clenching there, pulling her toward him, and the hand that had been softly touching the flesh of her bare thigh suddenly lunged upward, into Sibyl's crotch. She felt his fingers close upon the swell of her cuntlips and she kicked automatically with one foot.

Wayne took his mouth from hers. Sibyl felt him give a playful pinch, and she could hear the rustle of pubic hair as he used his fingers on her. "No, no, no, no," she whispered in a rush of syllables, but even as she spoke, she found herself wondering why she was telling him no. Wasn't this the reason she'd come here today? Overhead the sun was warm and the sky was the bluest she could ever remember seeing. The meadow smelled of earth and grass and wild flowers. She could hear the trickle of the brook a dozen yards away. Sibyl put her hand on the back of Wayne's head arid combed her fingers through his longish hair. Her mouth formed a shy smile. "I didn't really mean to say no," she told him, lying down. The front of her jumpsuit was askew. If he leaned down, then looked to the side, he'd be able to see the stiff pink tip of her breast.

He didn't bother with such a roundabout method. Wayne lay down beside Sibyl, his fingers locking in the zipper tab, pulling it all the way down. She didn't resist as he pushed the garment aside and exposed her tits. Her nipples seemed to stiffen as he gazed upon them, but it was nothing compared to what they did when he began sucking them. Wayne closed his lips on her nearest teat and began to suck with loud, slurping smacks. He ate her greedily, eagerly, sometimes nibbling, sometimes licking. Sibyl's nipple stiffened in his mouth and she felt her boobs growing numb – even the one he'd not yet begun to nibble.

As he sucked, he started pulling the jumpsuit over her shoulders, so that she was bare from neck to navel. He lifted his head from her tits, smiling. "Lift up," he suggested. Sibyl braced her heels and elbows, raising her ass from the blanket. In a quick, deft motion, Wayne pulled the jumpsuit over her hips. She sank onto the blanket once more as his hands located her naked, red-fluffed pussy.

He used his middle finger like a cock, spearing it into her slit. She was dry, and she moaned in discomfort as he sought to get himself up her. But each prod of his finger seemed to tease Sibyl into juicing a little bit more, and almost before she knew it, his finger was driving into her – a foretaste of what she might expect from his dick in a short time.

Sibyl moaned, but not in discomfort now, as he reamed her pussy with his middle finger. He had big hands and big fingers and he used them in a firm, though crude manner. Occasionally he brushed the fleshy bump where Sibyl's clit lurked, and she could feel her love button beginning to throb as the contacts became more frequent. She twisted her bottom on the blanket, trying to get the correct rhythm, but it wasn't working. She was getting wetter inside, but the wetter she got, the more his reaming finger seemed to hurt the lining of her cunt. She reached down, catching his hand in mid-swirl. "Please," she said, "it doesn't feel good."

Sighing, he pulled his finger out of her hole. Wayne knelt beside the young girl, eyeing her from head to knees. He reached to help her loosen the fallen jumpsuit from her knees, dropping it on the grass beside them. "Now how does it feel?" he asked, ramming his finger up her snatch once more.

"OUCH!" Sibyl yelled, her knees pulling almost to her chest. She could feel his Goddamned nail inside her, scratching, digging. She pulled her knees back even further, and he seemed to shove himself even deeper up her pussy, the rest of his fisted hand battering fruitlessly on her cuntlips as though he wished to diddle her with that part of him as well. Sibyl's ass swayed and her knees rocked from side to side. He kept on reaming and frigging with his finger, and by now she was sloppy inside. She could smell her pussy juices beginning to flow, and she could feel her clit creeping from its hiding place so that the edge of his finger could scrape on her sex button.

His finger-fuck was rough and swift, but there was no doubt he was on solid ground with his approach. Sibyl felt her tits harden and her pussy moisten, and then her body tinged all over, her toes wiggled, and her cunt thrust back at him one, two, three times. He pronged her in reply each time she moved against his hand, there was a tremor around her pussy ups and Sibyl knew that she was having her first orgasm with a boy. It wasn't a great orgasm, but she was coming all the same, and a trickle of pussy-scented juice oozed from her slice as his finger slowed its penetrations.

"Oh, wow," she giggled, sitting up. In the process she dislodged his finger. The smell of her arousal seemed to grow stronger, almost intoxicating. Sibyl made a sneaky-girl face, picked up his hand, and guided it to her cheek. The aroma of her pussy was heavy now, wafting in and out her nostrils. Slyly, she opened her mouth and sucked in his cunt-wet middle finger. She used her lips and cheeks and teeth on it, sucking, nursing, tonguing away the juices that clung to his flesh. It was a curious, musky taste, she decided, though she had sampled it before. Once or twice while masturbating she had been seized with the irresistible impulse to suck dry her sticky, cum-wet fingers. But there was a difference this time, for she could taste, beneath her own flavor, the tang of his young male skin.

Wayne eased his finger from her mouth. He rose to his feet, and said, "If you're in the mood for sucking…" and undid his belt. In a moment he was bare from waist to feet, his cock dangling before Sibyl's eyes. "Try this on for size," he suggested.

"Ur…" she hesitated, seeing a penis in close-up for the first time in her life. It was a deeper shade of color than the rest of his flesh, and he had a lot of hair growing around his balls. His nuts were enclosed in a small, tight-looking sac which hung under his soft rod. A funny odor, too, she decided, eyeing him from a distance of no more than six or eight inches. She could see everything – the rough-looking surface of his cock-head, which had a washed out purple tone; what seemed to be a tiny wart just beneath the scar of circumcision; his smooth scrotal flesh; and his male smell – that was the most intriguing thing. It seemed to touch a responding chord deep inside Sibyl, to set off her reactions in a way she could not control. Her hand moved toward him, fingers stroking his taut, hair-fuzzed balls. He was so warm, she thought. So warm.

Her fingers caressed his bag of balls, then moved, as of their own volition, onto his limp cock. He was soft, but she could feel a muscular tightness beneath the layer of loose flesh. Fascinated, Sibyl squeezed on his pecker. She could feel life begin to flow into him in a sudden rush.

His cock erected much faster than she was expecting. It seemed to swell, to engorge, to lift itself up, steadily lengthening, hardening, its tip aiming directly at her surprise-opened mouth. "Oh," she said gaily, just before the head of Wayne's tool brushed her chin. It was sticking straight out now, and she had only to move her mouth. Just a fraction of motion and he'd slip right inside.

Could she do that? He wanted her to do it. He'd invited her. Women did that kind of thing for men. Cheryl had done it for Daddy, Sibyl remembered jealously, and Betsy had done it for any number of boys. But could she, Sibyl Bogart, do it? Everything in her moral constitution screamed that she couldn't, but her hands were on him, one cupping his scrotum, the other locked around his dick, keeping it in erection. Energy and pulsating excitement flowed through his prick. Her hands could not help but feel that excitement. Sibyl looked up at his face. He was smiling broadly, in hope. She looked at the tip of his cock. It was ballooning up like a medium-sized grape, its naturally mauve surface growing bigger. Sibyl pursed her lips, as if she were smoothing on lipstick. And she moved.

Sibyl made her mouth a loose glove and he thrust inside. He wasn't exceptionally long, not compared to Daddy, she thought. Wayne might boast of five or six inches worth of erection, and he was thin enough, too. His cock pushed into her easily. Sibyl had only to open up and receive.

She opened. Before she knew it, her lips were nuzzling the hairs at the base of his dick, kissing his sac of balls. She could feel the head of his cock somewhere in the upper chamber of her throat. She didn't gag or choke. Indeed, she felt not the slightest discomfort or doubt as she sucked him, fully buried in her acceptant mouth.

"Oh, Jesus!" Wayne yelled, grabbing her head and pushing in futility. He couldn't get anything else into her but he could try. Eagerly, he thumped his groin against Sibyl's mouth, making his cock jiggle in her throat. He achieved nothing, except perhaps an intensification of his delight at being sucked so perfectly.

Sibyl clutched him with her lips, making them a tight ring on his cock as he began to pummel her. She squeezed, her cheeks pulling in to suction him, and she no longer needed to hold him with her hands. She moved one hand to his hip, the other to his ass. She wondered if she was doing it right. Was she hurting him? She could feel his body tremble, she could feel goosebumps popping up on his ass. Her fingers dug into his hard young male flesh and she used her mouth more tightly. She heard him groan, but it wasn't a groan of pain. "Baby!" he sighed.

She was doing it right! She knew she was! Sibyl smiled as she sucked, and then she felt him pulling out of her oral cavity, his cock sliding out of her throat, gliding across her tongue, retreating until only the head was still inside her and that because her teeth closed into position behind the ridge and held at least a portion of his cock.

"Here I come again," he informed her, thrusting his way back inside. Sibyl opened up to receive him, and again she felt his dick lurching into her. More goosepimples on his ass, more shivering in his leg.

It was as if she'd always known exactly how to do this, she thought. When she made her head twist from side to side while he rammed his cock into her mouth, she could feel him reacting in excitement. When she used her tongue on his thrusting cock she could sense the blood coursing into his veins, keeping him hard and ready. And when she pulled her cheeks in, using their inside surfaces to caress the sliding wet lance, Wayne couldn't repress his moans of joy. Sibyl felt a golden glow spreading over her body, a glow of pride in a job well done, and she could sense that her cunt was once more growing wet, trickles of juice oozing forth to dampen the sparse red beaver hairs. She took her hand off his hip and let it slip down to her cunt. With two fingers she began to rub her wettening slice, the strokes growing more brisk with each repetition, until her clit seemed to be stuck out as long, as hot, as wet, as the cock on which she gobbled.

"God," Wayne said, "I don't fucking believe this!" He kept lancing his way into her mouth, filling her with his cock as many times as he could manage, and Sibyl kept sucking on what he had to offer, giving it the full throat treatment.

On the edge of the woods, Betsy and Jim stood watching. "Look at that!" Betsy gloated. "Will you look at her?" Jim was looking, but not all the time.

He'd lifted Betsy's dress – she'd worn a long-skirted gown today – and his hand was busy between the bare cheeks of her ass. She didn't need underwear with a long dress, she had reasoned, and now she was happy, because the absence of panties made Jim's work easier. He'd already parted the dark fleece of her cunt with his fingers, and he was busily frigging her clit and tickling her meaty cuntlips. She was leaking a wet, cunty fluid on his hand and she knew she'd be ready for a screw in another minute or so, but right now she was content to be foreplayed while she watched Sibyl giving the most remarkable job of head Betsy had ever seen.

It was almost impossible to believe that Sibyl was tasting a prick for the first time. She sucked like a pro. Wayne didn't have a giant cock, but it was no dwarf either, and Betsy couldn't suck it without plenty of effort and concentration. But Sibyl had swallowed it to the fucking hilt, first stroke, and she was kissing him on the nuts every tune he pushed it to her. Far out! Far fucking out!

Jim was on his knees behind Betsy, and she leaned forward so that her hem wouldn't fall down on him. He steered her legs into position, widely separated, with her cunt on display, and then he shoved his face between them. "Ouch!" Betsy yelped as his teeth grabbed her pussy lips and held on like a dog with a bone. He wasn't the best lapper in the county, but he had plenty of enthusiasm. If he just didn't bite off her clit. That was the only thing to worry about.

Pleasure blossomed inside Betsy as she bent over to be eaten, but she was careful to give Sibyl and Wayne most of her attention. This was a red letter day in Sibyl's life. If something went wrong, it could be traumatic. But it really didn't look as if anything were about to misfire. Betsy's eyesight was sharp and precise, and she could see that Sibyl was playing Wayne's cock like she would a fine violin. By the end of the day, Sibyl should have forgotten all about that childish fixation she had for her dad. She'd have discovered the wonderful world of boys.

Jim was licking her now, his tongue flitting up and down in Betsy's gash. He had a nice way of licking, though his fuck technique tended to be rather crude and to the point. Hop on, stick it in, and jiggle till he squirted her belly full of jism. Most boys were that way, she reflected. Jim's raw talent for eating snatch was a point in his favor. Of course, she'd take a man any day. A man like Ed Bogart, for example.

Betsy tried to pretend that it was Ed reaming her cunt at the moment, rather than Jim, but the thought didn't quite work. Ed had a genius for eating pussy and Jim was pathetic in contrast. But he was all she had at the moment, and he was doing fine considering. She wiggled her ass, sliding her cunt against his nose and mouth, encouraging him.

"Lick a little faster, would ya, huh?" she sighed, squeezing her tits through the bodice of her gingham dress. She could feel the nipples punching up to tickle her palms. Mmm, she thought, I'm gonna need a little piece of sausage before much longer.

Sibyl's throat was a greasy, sucking tube for Wayne's cock. She held him with one hand fondling her pussy with the other as she ate him, and he steadied himself by caressing her red hair. She couldn't get over how slickly he rammed his way into her, how graciously her mouth and throat opened to accept him, let alone how much she enjoyed having him there. God, she thought, no wonder Cheryl had been so eager to suck Daddy's cock that day! If it was twice as sweet as this one.

She experimented, relishing the newfound sexual response that was blossoming inside her. She sucked him with alternate hard and light pressures, using her tongue in ways that seemed to occur like divine inspiration, and her fingers stole into the crevice of his ass, tickling him there, making him wiggle as he stood giving her meat. His unsteadiness had an interesting effect on the penetrations of his cock, she noticed, and she fingered his asshole a little more overtly to see what else she might summon forth.

His cock felt so hard and hot in her mouth, but it had a certain yielding quality, too. Not once did she feel strangled by him. Her mouth hadn't the slightest difficulty taking him when he plunged – indeed, it seemed much more reluctant to let him go, when he was interested in jerking his dick away and ramming it to her afresh. Sibyl had been Betsy doing this to a boy, and she had mentally branded Betsy a slut, a girl bound for hell. Well! Now she was doing it, too, and she didn't feel at all like a slut or a bad girl, and the fires of hell seemed a long way off and not beckoning to her at all. She felt good. She felt like a woman for the first time in her life.

She sucked loudly, voraciously, her lips smacking around him as he plunged again and again. The thrusts he made, to the upper part of her throat, were becoming so familiar, so reassuring, that Sibyl wondered if she'd be able to endure not having him there. What if she became addicted? she asked herself. What if she had to go around everywhere, all day long, with a cock buried to the hilt in her sucking mouth?

Her hand moved faster and faster in her cunt. She had two fingers buried in her tight young hole and she rammed them in and out with the same ferocity Wayne used to fuck her mouth. I'm getting it from both ends, Sibyl thought.

Even her pussy didn't feel so tight now. She'd been more than a little nervous about approaching her first fuck, afraid that her orifice was too snug to accommodate a penis. But now, after a hand-job from Wayne, during the one she was giving herself, Sibyl could feel the lithe resilience of her cuntal muscles, the way they stretched and yielded as limberly as her mouth stretched to let Wayne's cock plunge inside. She fucked herself with two fingers, then added a third, her pussy loosening to allow it entry. There was a strain, but only at the very start, and she knew that when her time came, she'd spread her legs, kick her feet high into the air, as Betsy had directed, and her first lover would mount her and stick his cock into her waiting hole. She would be fucked and it would be beautiful.

She scooped with those fingers in her cunt, reaming and dredging the mucky swamp of her sex, and her tummy felt as if it were turning upside down. Her clit was swollen enormously and her fingers brushed it every time she worked them inside her gash. Each stroking pass sent a fresh chill up Sibyl's spine, till her brain seemed numbed.

Her mouth sucked harder, harder, ever harder on Wayne's dick, and she could feel him holding onto her head for dear life. His ass was tight where her hand squeezed it, muscles rippling and tensing in his buttock. Sibyl gripped him more firmly, sighing around his cock in her mouth, and she threw all remaining decorum out the window. She'd be orgasmic in a second – just a second – a few more clit squeezes, a couple more thrusting finger stabs.

Sibyl came in a torrent of juice and contractions, her belly and pussy jerking in alternation, and she started moaning to the cock which filled her orality. She could feel it throbbing a reply to her whining and as it throbbed, the blood pounded in its veins. She felt him swelling in her mouth, bigger, harder, thicker. She leaned toward him, clamping her lips to the hair at the base of his pecker.

"Nnnnngghhh!" Sibyl whined, Wayne's cock somewhere in the middle of her throat, her right hand buried finger-deep in her coming pussy, her face lurching from side to side on Wayne's pecker.

He moaned too, a howling cry that seemed to be ripped from the middle of his soul. His fingers dug into Sibyl's head, strong enough, or so they seemed, to crush her skull by their pressing eagerness. She felt his cock swell again, this time ballooning enormously, so fast, so furiously that she thought she might be smothered by its size. Her mouth was full of him. Again Sibyl groaned and the vibrato of her cry, echoing along the shaft of Wayne's dick, onto his jiggling sac of nuts, did what even her enthusiastic suckling had not done.

He pulled from her throat, intending to ram it to her again, and his cum overtook him on the way. His cock-head hesitated at the entrance of Sibyl's throat. She was still groaning, the root of her tongue jiggling beneath his cock, and he howled like a triumphant beast as he ejaculated his cum down her still open throat.

Sibyl felt his greasy cum burst from the tip of his dick, and she knew that it was coursing down her throat in thick, warm streams. She couldn't taste it – he was giving it to her straight, too far back, too fast, too hard – and none of it had yet seeped down to tickle her taste buds. But there seemed to be so much of it! He kept quivering and jerking in her mouth, shooting jism so abundantly that she couldn't take it down her throat at once. Some of the jizz oozed into her cheeks and she held it there, sloshing it around the imbedded shaft while he gave her even more.

Wayne's cum rolled inside Sibyl's mouth. At last she could sample its flavor. It had a strong taste, not entirely pleasant, and the consistency was a little too thick and greasy to suit her. The longer she retained it without swallowing, the less pleasant Wayne's cum became. It seemed to be curdling. She made an effort to swallow all that remained with her mouth and, as she did, Sibyl noticed that her first lover was no longer squirting, that his cock's orgasmic throes had subsided and he was beginning to go soft in her mouth.

He diminished quickly, it seemed, and she watched as he oozed from her mouth accompanied by a few trailing streams of his cum. Sibyl made no effort to lick up the spillage, and it trickled down her chin as she stared at Wayne's temporarily depleted cock. He was very wet, very red, his pecker flesh white and creamy where stray drops of jism clung, and when she touched him with her fingers he felt small and so sticky! Tender, too! Her thumb scraped the underside of his cocktip and he groaned, knocking her hand away. Sibyl petted him for a moment or two, smiling as she watched his cock striving to erect itself once more. Wayne panted, dropping to his heels. He squatted on the blanket while she took his prick in hand and coaxed it hard again.

"I've never done that before," she confessed with a dainty blush. "I've never let a boy touch me before. You can be the first."

"I already am," he pointed out.

"I guess so," Sibyl agreed. Her hands had brought him to a semi-erection. She kissed his cock and saw it stiffen a bit more. "I'd like to be fucked now," she went on. "And after that…"

"One thing at a time," Wayne grinned. She moved as his hands directed, stretching out on her back. He brought her knees up, showed her how to hold them out of his way, and then he knelt in position, touching his cock to the tight, pink pussy she was displaying to him.

He stroked her with his cock, touching the little curls of red hair, touching the bare spots were pubic fleece had not yet sprouted, and then he glided his prick up and down her delicately splayed cuntlips.

"Oh!" she said in surprised delight. He was hard again, as hard as ever, and his cock felt like a battering ram on the door of her virgin cunt. Thank God there would be no blood, she remembered, although she was positive she would have some degree of pain. She'd managed to get three fingers into her pussy, but they'd not gone as deeply nor as fiercely as she knew Wayne would go in her pussy, and she only prayed that she wouldn't embarrass herself by crying or acting like a baby.

A baby! Oh, my God! Sibyl thought. "Wait!" she commanded, rolling onto her side, reaching for the jumpsuit he'd helped her out of. It had one pocket, on the lower left side, and in that pocket were the condoms Betsy had given her this morning. They weren't the surest method of birth control, but they were the best that Betsy could manage on short notice. Wayne sat up, watching as Sibyl undid the wrapper and fished out one rubber. "Here," she said, offering it to him. "You have to wear this." He looked disappointed his cock sticking up all big, hard, ready.

"It's okay," he suggested, "I'll pull it out before I cum."

Betsy had said he'd try that. "No," Sibyl insisted. "You have to wear this before you fuck me."

Grumbling, he took the condom and started to roll it onto his pecker. Sibyl watched in fascination as the rubber sheath took shape around his tool, transparent, nippled at the end to help receive his semen when it came, and she couldn't resist stroking him with her hand after he was fully armored. It was slick, almost gritty dry. What else had Betsy said? Of course! She bent over, took his sheathed cock in her mouth, and sucked until her spit glistened on the rubber. Now he should be lubricated enough for insertion. Sibyl sat back nervously, testing her snatch with a finger.

Jesus! She was wet enough for two! Her cunt was dripping wet, as if she'd pissed herself during the preparations. She, rubbed her pussy, felt the lips part to suck a finger inside, and she knew that she was ready for her first fuck. Moving onto her back, she pulled up her legs, just as she'd been told to do, and she moved her bush from side to side. "Hurry," she whispered. "I can't wait any longer!"

Neither could he. He shoved his cock into her cunt, screwing her deeply that first time, and Sibyl's pussy opened for him as lusciously as her mouth had, earlier. She felt him slam her hard, thick, fast, and the friction of his rubber-clad dong inside her was suddenly more unbearable than an hour's masturbation with both her hands. She screamed, as he penetrated her pussy and her ass bounced up to meet him. His cock pressed deeper, balls dangling on her buttocks cleft, his pubic hair tickling her cuntlips. She wanted to scream again, but no matter how widely she opened her mouth, only a hoarse choking wheeze came forth. Her eyes were bulging, seeing nothing. Not even his face.

Sibyl blinked hard, trying to clear her vision, and a blur began to take shape. Wayne was rearranging her legs, now that he was in her. One leg he brought around him, letting it curl at the small of his back, while the other he braced with his arm, keeping it high in the air.

She felt as if she were being split open, but it was a delicious kind of torture. Sibyl clutched at him with her crooked leg, pulling him to her, keeping him there. Her clit was swelling like an over-inflated balloon. His cock was rubbing her clit to an excruciating rawness. She could feel, smell the cuntally perfumed liquids of her pussy as they bathed his imbedded dick. Sucking him had been a delightful discovery; fucking him – God, what could she say about fucking him? She wanted to pull him deeper inside her, ever deeper, no matter if his belly was already jammed against her cunt and his prick driven as deep as a well-joined nail.

"Oh, do it," Sibyl whispered. "Do it, do it, do it, do it!!!" Her body heaved beneath him, her legs vined and twined on him, her hands and pussy and stiff, thrusting nipples each beckoned their own brand of invitation. He fucked her. He pulled from her, fucking her with a fast-paced attack whose eagerness almost compensated for its lack of subtlety. Sibyl didn't care. She had no ground for comparison. She could only accept.

Accept she did. Her eyes swam in a haze of mist, and his face moved in and out of focus before her gaze. Her body lunged to meet his thrusting jabs, and she knew that she could never again regard this as a degrading experience. It was the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to her. How could she have lived so many years and not realized that she was born for sex? Her body knew. She had no control over her responses to Wayne's cock, but she knew instinctively what to do, and she did it. His prick thrust up her, she could hear him sigh in pleasure, and she knew that he liked it as much as she did.

Her legs slinked round him. Now she was clutching his body with both her thighs, for he'd given up the struggle to keep that one foot high in the air. Sibyl pulled him even closer. The strength of her thigh muscles was astonishing to the girl as she contributed a proficiency she hadn't known she possessed.

She closed her eyes, allowing him to kiss and nibble her cheek and chin and mouth. He had a warm, manly smell, and, she thought with eyes shut, she could almost imagine – oh, no! Sibyl fought to control herself. No! It was wrong! She shouldn't! Wasn't that the very thing she was trying to work out of her system? She couldn't allow herself.

Her voice was a thin purr and she could not stifle it, no more than she could prevent the sudden blinding flash of orgasm which flooded her body. Sibyl sighed, cooed, moaned, melted. The body atop hers, the body which fucked her so insistently even as she rippled and fluttered, seemed to transform before her blurring eyes. She could be sure of nothing she saw. "Oh," she said weakly, "please fuck me!" Did a voice answer her? She could have sworn – a deep resonant male voice, stronger and truer than Wayne's thin young tones – a voice that said, "Of course, darling, I'll do anything to make my little girl happy."

She blinked – she stared at the face above her own – was it – she couldn't be sure. "Oh, Daddy!!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, at the fever point of her orgasm, her hands and legs enfolding the body tightly, no matter whose it was. She could feel the tip of the rubber jerking at the mouth of her womb, jerking and filling with the jizz which gushed from the tip of the cock inside. "Oh, Daddy!" she screamed again, and then she couldn't speak at all.

In the woods not far away, Betsy Pike was licking cum from the end of Jim's pecker when she heard Sibyl's ecstatic cries. Oh, hell, thought the blonde girl, rolling a drop of jism on the tip of her tongue. It hadn't worked after all. Sibyl still had her dad on her mind. Give me time, Betsy added silently, her mouth moving swiftly on Jim's pecker. Sibyl had sixteen years of subconscious incestuous passion to wipe away. But it could be done. Betsy knew it could be done.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Maybe she didn't know.

Betsy had been so confident that this scheme would work, that Sibyl would find out what boys were for, that she'd forget all about her half-repressed incestuous yearning for Ed.

Sibyl took to sex like a dog takes to eating shit. Wayne wasn't enough for her. She rode and sucked his cock till he couldn't stare it hard, and then she wrapped her legs around Jim's face while he was trying to ball Betsy, and before Betsy knew what was happening, she found herself a fifth wheel on an overloaded wagon.

It was as if Sibyl wanted to bathe her body in cum. Jim ate her out to a moaning orgasm, she sucked his cock and made his jism flow like a fountain into her red hair, across her pale, freckled face, her tongue snaking around to lick up stray trickles of seed. She fucked him, too, romping up and down on his stiff cock with sensuous body action that all too soon caused him to lunge upward, dumping his load into the rubber that encased his dick. She even persuaded Wayne's cock to revive by the promise of taking her anal cherry. Her words helped, nearly as much as the firm, fine quality of Sibyl's sucking, and a fresh erection soon sprouted from Wayne's loins. "Okay," she told him, leaning forward with hands braced on her knees, her slim ass upthrust and ready, "I want you to shove that big prick of yours all the way up my cute little butt. What are you waiting for, Christmas?"

He'd given it to her, too, Betsy remembered. He'd spread her asshole, steered his cock to the anal pucker, and he'd shoved his, way inside. Betsy watched in fascination, recalling how much it had fucking hurt the first time she'd ever let anyone do that to her. But Sibyl didn't scream or sob. She grunted as the dick moved inside her, and then the swiveled her ass in a sexy jiggle that began to swallow up Wayne's cock, and in no more than thirty seconds, they were fucking for dear life. Sibyl's mouth was set in firm determination and her nipples were a hard, swollen pink.

She let him cum in her ass, since it was perfectly safe, and when he finally took his prick out of her, sticky goo oozed from her rectum. Sibyl rubbed herself, soaking her fingers in the spilled jism, and she offered a taste of it to Betsy, who refused.

Sibyl's initiation was successful, yes, but there was a coldness to the girl's attitude that bothered Betsy. The blonde girl liked to think of herself as a survivor, a manipulator, but she couldn't have used anyone the way Sibyl used Wayne and Jim. Sibyl played them off against one another, teasing arid tempting each by her performance with the other. After that first brief spell of necking with Wayne, Sibyl didn't even bother kissing either of the boys. She made them hard, she fucked them, she sucked them, and when they'd both been drained she wanted no more to do with them. They were only hard cocks to give her body pleasure. As the sun crept lower down the western summer sky, Sibyl tensed her body in the brook, put on her borrowed jumpsuit, and said, "Why don't we all go home now? I don't think anything else is about to happen."

That coldness seemed to remain with Sibyl through the next evening. Betsy had gone up to the Bogarts' for a cookout, a swim, and an all-night visit. She brought her most chaste bikini, splashed in the pool with Ed, and ate barbecued hamburgers with a ravenous appetite. Sibyl didn't swim. She sat on the patio in her jeans and sweatshirt, turning the hamburgers as they cooked and watching the proceedings with an alienated eye. She only spoke when spoken to, and then as briefly as possible.

In fact, she was such a stone bummer that Betsy found herself paying much more attention to Sibyl's father. Why not? She dug Ed, anyway, and even if he didn't mention the other afternoon, she could see it in his eyes when he looked at her. He was remembering, too, and she was certain his memories jibed with her own. And wasn't this what she'd been angling for? An invitation to stay overnight with Sibyl, a chance to pop into bed with her dad again? He touched her once, when they were in the pool, under the water where Sibyl couldn't see. His hand on her leg, moving up her thigh, onto the straining crotch of her bikini pants. She could feel her pussy hum in reply as he held on, squeezing her through the tight nylon, and she closed her legs upon his hand, intensifying his caress. Then he'd let her go and he was swimming away. She bided her time after that, confident she could manage what she wanted.

The chance came. Sibyl was in the kitchen making coffee, and Betsy and Ed were alone in the living room watching a rerun. "I've missed you," Betsy said. "I've missed all of you."

He smiled, patting his knee. She went to him, sat down, her arms around his neck. He smelled very nice this evening – a virile cologne mixed with the lingering aroma of Sail tobacco from his pipe – and Betsy enjoyed nuzzling his skin. About the time his hand closed upon her breast, unfettered beneath the clingy halter shirt she wore, she whispered in his ear, "I want to fuck you again. And I think you owe me one, since I did fix up Sibyl yesterday. She had a good time, she met some new people, and that's what you wanted. Soooo…"

Betsy didn't feel it necessary to mention the details of Sibyl's date, and certainly that would spoil the effect she was constructing. Ed's hand squeezed on her tit, making her nipple pop up big and hot. She touched the front of his trousers to trace the outline of his recumbent cock. It was soft now, but when her mouth started working, when she teased his knob with the stiff points of her nipples and let him taste the honey dripping from her cunt, she knew it would get hard.

"Tell you what," she said. "As soon as Sibyl goes off to dreamland, I'll just hop and skip down the hall and, before you know which end of you is up, this end of you will be up, bigger than life and twice as tasty. Say about one o clock?"

He nibbled on her lower lip while she purred with delight.

"All right," he said. "I owe you for being nice to Sibyl."

If anything, Sibyl's attitude was even worse after the two girls went up to bed. The young redhead seemed incredibly surly, uncommunicative, and Betsy asked if she were angered by anything. Sibyl only shook her head, not even deigning a verbal reply. Betsy shrugged, stripped, and went in to take a bath. She wanted to be fresh and bright and clean for Ed.

Alone in her bedroom, Sibyl smote her knee with a fist. That rotten tramp! She'd heard them, making plans when they thought she couldn't hear. That was the only reason Betsy had come to spend the night, so she could get into Daddy's arms again. Oh, she could see it now, the two of them, rolling on the bed, sweating, moaning, their bodies joined in sex. Sex! What was the big deal about it, anyway? Sibyl had drowned herself in it yesterday but it meant nothing to her. Nothing at all. She could scarcely remember what either of those boys looked like, now. They were just bodies, and she'd used them to please herself the way Betsy had showed her. She should be satiated by that afternoon of fucking, but she wasn't. A canker gnawed her from the inside out. And to think that in another hour Betsy and-and… She didn't even want to think about it, but she found herself unable to think of anything else.

Sibyl eyed the small vial she had taken from Daddy's nightstand while he was still downstairs. His sleeping pills. Sometimes, when he worked late and his system was supercharged from writing, he needed a pill to get to sleep. If they worked on a tense man…

"Here," she told Betsy when the blonde girl returned all scrubbed and glowing from the bath. "A glass of milk, I always have one before I go to bed, and I thought you might want one, too."

Ed Bogart lay on his bed in the dark. He was wearing just a short, velvety robe, tied in a loose knot. It was a souvenir from Saigon, made of authentic Chinese silk, decorated with Ming designs. The room was dark with moonlight filtering through the window. A lovely summer night, he thought, and soon to be even lovelier.

Betsy. A delicious young piece. He should feel guilty for screwing her – she was young enough to be his daughter – but she was so Goddamned hot he couldn't resist her. That day by the pool he'd sized her up from the start. A small-town girl with a large-city sex drive. Definitely the manipulative type, out to get whatever she could get and damn the consequences. So different from Sibyl. It was amazing they had enough in common to become friends. But she might be good for Sibyl, too. Help her get out of the house, meet people, enjoy life for a change. God knew, she was good for him. Cheryl was the only local talent he'd sampled, and she was good, too, but she had her drawbacks. For one thing, Cheryl was too old. A small-town girl in her late twenties, single, definitely out to trap a man. She'd hinted half a dozen times that if he asked her to go west with him and Sibyl at the end of summer, she'd be delighted to pull up stakes and go. She understand that she was just a good fuck as far as he was concerned.

Betsy, on the other hand, seemed to know that instinctively. She had no hooks out for anyone. All she wanted were the good times. If he was using her, so was she using him. A little more use was definitely in order, he told himself, just as he heard the doorknob turn.

"Finally," he said, and there was a quick flash of a nude girlish figure entering his bedroom. His eyes were nearly adjusted to the darkness, but she moved with a swift, lissome grace, right to the window. She pulled the curtain shut, blinding him suddenly as even the moonbeams were cut off, and in another second her warm body was beside him on the bed.

"Hi," she whispered in a low invitational tone. Her mouth touched his, her tongue protruding slightly, and he caught it with his own, pulling it into his mouth. She melted against him, naked, warm, her legs encircling him. Funny, he thought, she felt a little small in the dark. Her hips didn't seem as full, her breasts more conical than before. An illusion of darkness, no doubt. Her nipples were hard and hot, and he opened his robe to let them smolder upon his bare, broad chest. She snuggled in against him, making her tits wobble sideways on his skin, and she reached down to untie his robe, to let it flop open, her hands, making a catcher's mitt on his cock.

He hadn't erected so fast since he was a kid, just beginning to get around girls. She had electricity in her hands and it flowed into his manhood. The change was so abrupt he sighed deeply to feel it, his cock first soft then agonizingly hard and getting harder as she handled him.

He stroked her head, wanting to twine his fingers in her long blonde hair, but she was wearing a scarf, silky enough to settle for. Her mouth was all over his face, kissing, biting, leaving hickies. In the morning he'd look like a measles case, but it was night and he didn't care. He strained at her, making his cock jump and do sexy show-off tricks in her hands, and he beard her giggle delightedly between kisses.

Ed moved the girl onto her back. She was limber as hot rubber in his hands, folding into whatever position he wanted. Even in the dark his eyes could pick up a faint outline of her body, and he followed that outline with his fingers, touching her everywhere, hearing her cooing responses, feeling the tingles of arousal that rippled in each of her limbs.

His mouth sucked hold of her tummy, upping and nibbling the delicate flesh. He rimmed her navel with his tongue, then hesitated, deciding where to go next. Her pussy was awash with wet readiness as his probing finger determined easily, and the agitated squirming and whispered endearments told Ed that she loved to be finger-fucked. But instead of dipping in for a round of cunnilingus, he slid his mouth upward, tongue flicking the under curves of her conical titties. They felt smaller than before, but much firmer, harder. It must be the darkness, he thought, or else I'm losing my memory. He considered turning on the bedside light so he could refresh his memory, but by that time her right nipple, stiff and fiery, had intruded itself between his ups and he was sucking it appreciatively and the light seemed unimportant.

Her boobs responded well to his mouth. He could feel a tantalizing shudder coursing through their conical peaks, and the nipples throbbed excitedly when he pulled them with his lips. She had a sweet taste, almost a jasmine. "You know," he said, leaving off his nursing for a moment, "the way you taste reminds me of Singapore. I knew a girl there!"

"I don't want to hear about other girls," she whispered in that same low husk. "I want you to fuck me."

"Of course," he replied gently. Reminiscing about other girls was impolite and possibly a sign of old, age, Ed told himself tonight belonged to him and to Betsy. No one else. He gave her tits a parting kiss, then moved toward her waiting cunt.

Her pussy opened as soon as his tongue made contact, and he was spearing deep inside with sure, clever strokes. Her cunt was delicious, tighter than he remembered, and much, much sweeter. It snapped at him with desperate muscular tugs of its own, and he let his tongue be massaged by her. God, she had a sweet one! Its muscles pulled his lingual member in a clutching, caressing manner, and he had only to move with her. He could feel her clit, already stiff, wet and hot, and he used his finger on it while he tongued her cunt. She began to squirm and writhe, her little whispery voice moaning and twittering, and he thought of her as a delicate little bird.

The muscles of her thighs jerked as he licked her out, and he moved his face in closer so that she could wrap him round with her legs. Her pussy was the freshest, daintiest, sexiest he had ever smelled. It had a clean virginal quality, as if it had never been used before, though he knew that, couldn't be at all true. He'd fucked her to a fare thee well by the pool the other day, and she had come to him with plenty of experience inside her panties. It didn't matter. Virgins were such a bitch anyway, always screaming and crying and protesting. On a wedding night that was okay – Sibyl's mother had been virgin when they married and he had enjoyed teaching her to use the delightful body God gave her – but for sexual sport, a girl couldn't have too much experience. Unless she was worn out, and Betsy Pike was far too young to be worn out. Her lovely, tight cunt was proof that she had plenty of game left.

She made contact with his dick. A fresh spurt of throbbing hard seemed to ripple up and down his cock as she used him in her clutching fist. Her nails were sharp, scraping the flesh but seeming to know where lay the thin line between pain and pleasure. She moved on him in a sensuous hand-job manner, caressing him from corona to balls, and Ed's loins began to move with her rhythmic masturbation.

"Please," she said softly, "I want to suck you while you suck me. Move a little closer."

He was happy to do just that. She had a loving mouth, be remembered well, and she could drink cum like nobody's business. He was eager to fuck her, but hard-ons were never a problem with Ed. If he emptied his first erection into Betsy's sucking mouth, there would be another to take its place, and very soon. He'd fuck her or die trying.

The first touch of her lips on his pulsating cock was like a premonition of heaven. She kissed him, a wet, passionate kiss, and then she started using her mouth on him, loving his knob only at first, loving it with everything she had. She kissed him, licked him, tongued him, squeezed him between her lips, and the edges of her incisor teeth scraped with anguishing slowness on the purple engorgement of his knobby cock-head. The only thing she didn't do was stuff him into her mouth for a session of super-hot suckling. Maybe tonight she wanted to demonstrate that she knew other techniques as well.

She kissed and nibbled the underside of his shaft, moving on him from the flaring bottom of his pecker point to the dangling heaviness of his testicles. She had a way of accentuating his protuberant cock that sent shivers up and down his spine. God almighty! Betsy Pike was wasted on a small town like Albany, Ohio. It was saddening to think of her squandering that natural sex talent on small-town cowboys. She should be lying on silk sheets in a penthouse apartment, brightening the hearts of horny, generous millionaires.

He felt his balls being suckled, one at a time, and he wished her mouth weren't quite so small, that she could get all his scrotum inside for some heavy duty nursing. He'd met a few girls who could do that, but not many. And the way Betsy mouthed him was so sweet, so perfect, that he didn't mind. She hadn't even been this good, this hot, this innovative, that day by the pool. He'd have to see her again while he and Sibyl were in Albany. Betsy was an acquaintance worth cultivating.

Almost before he knew it, she'd quit sucking his balls and was making an oral pattern of ascent on his stiff dick. Her lips clutched at his knob once again, tongue tracing a sensuous, almost evil course on the sharp, well-defined rim of his glans. Ed shuddered instinctively, repressing the urge to come immediately, all over her caressing lips. He was like a high school boy getting his first blow-job, he thought reprovingly. Where was his self-control? It was a point of pride with Ed that he gave his partners their pleasure before he took his own. He never threw himself upon a woman, humped until he'd emptied his jism, then left her to her own devices. Plenty of guys did that, sure, but those men rarely found themselves invited back for seconds. And as Ed licked the girl's cuntlips and responded to her inspired cocksucking, he found himself thinking ahead to fourths and fifths.

He felt her teeth, but only for a moment. They grazed his cock-head as she took him into her mouth. He braced himself, fighting the urge to thrust it home. Most girls didn't know how to take a cock fully. They could only suckle the tip and the stalk just below. And with a long, thick peter like his own, getting deep-throated was an even more elusive pleasure. The half-caste girl in Singapore – she could do it like a Goddamned angel. A secretary in D.C., too. Not many more. Plenty had tried, especially since Linda Lovelace had turned throat fucking into a household word, but the thickness of Ed's cock was an inhibiting factor.

Or so he thought until he felt his cock pressing home, into what seemed a wet, bottomless cave. The ease of it was most startling. Betsy had shown no indication the other day that she…"Jesus!" he groaned, his nuts dancing on her chin, his cock fully inserted in her wonderful, beautiful mouth! He could feel her tight throat on him, could feel the splendid suction of her cheeks, and he could taste the increased dripping of her slit which told him that she, too, was excited by her special talent.

Ed fought his dick out of her mouth, fearing he might strangle the girl in his enthusiasm, but she held him by the ass, refusing to let him be fully extracted. Her mouth was a toothed leech on his glans, keeping it in her, tickling with tongue to bring him back, and he gave her full rein. When she flogged him that way with her tongue, when she urged him with her lips and, teeth, who was Ed Bogart to refuse?

He went in her just as fully the second time, his balls again bumping her chin with a jolting shudder that made him fight back the urge to come once more. It was clear to him that he couldn't resist forever. Before many more minutes had elapsed, Betsy would have a mouthful of cum – a big mouthful, if that twinge in his balls was any indicator – and he wanted her to feel a release too.

She was taking care of his cock. Her head had assumed control and she moved on him like a tube, letting his dick thrust her throat-deep each time, her mouth fondling it unbearably. Ed let her go, resuming his cunt-gobbling, this time with a raw passion he had rarely exercised on a casual sex mate. She seemed to call for more than normal measures, and he gave her his very best. His fingers spread her pussy to its widest, he fucked inside with as much of his face as he could jam into her slick wetness, and he strove to bury his tongue in her sucking hole of a cunt.

Obviously Bets was relishing his mouth work. Her clit was swollen to enormous size, perfect for a session of biting and sucking, and he alternated that with his forays into her rippling cunt. She was so wet, so hot, so tight – if a model were ever needed for the perfect cunt, Ed had a candidate who could win hands down. He lapped at the pussy juices which seeped from her, then jabbed his thumb in as she came.

She whimpered to the prick with which she fucked her sweet, eager mouth, and the vibrato of that whimper was an invitation hard to resist. It tickled up and down the buried shaft and he could feel himself swelling like a balloon inside her. Ed didn't want to squirt yet – the buildup was so erotic he wanted to savor it – but Betsy kept groaning and moaning as the tremors of orgasm passed through her churning snatch. He grunted once into her wet, open gash, his lips brushed her clit, and he felt as if someone had suddenly pinched his balls with pliers. The stones slammed together, burst, and a river of jism rushed upward, its flood unstoppable.

He poured that cum into her mouth, straight down the open tunnel of her throat, and he could hear the mighty swallows as she gulped it down. He knew he was coming a torrent, that he was spilling a week's worth of hot, salty seed into Betsy's gullet, and he wondered if he'd have any left for later. But later would have to take care of itself. Her hands were caressing his nuts, her mouth was tight and furious on his dick, and she was drinking his jizz like a well-paid whore.

After he'd spilled his juice, after his cock had slipped from her mouth, she touched him there with fingers had seemed to take sadistic pleasure in stroking his raw nerve endings. His dick ached unbearably but it refused to go down. He touched it too, testing its stiffness, and he knew that he had to have her again, now, while both of them were still ripe and ready.

Ed shifted position. He grabbed her head and smashed her face with the power of his hungry kiss. Betsy's mouth was still half-full of his cum, and when he touched his lips to hers, the stuff began to leak from her in a thick stream. Ed didn't mind. He'd tasted his cum on lovers' lips before and he'd do it again. If it was good enough to pour into a girl's mouth, it was good enough to have in his own. He squeezed her tits, felt them harden in his hands, and then she was reaching for his cock, pulling herself upon it.

Her cunt opened as she scooted into position, and Ed was on her, in her. Her legs were up, resting on his shoulders, and he lifted her ass from the bed as he barreled into her. They couldn't kiss in this position, and he missed the fragrant, sexy taste of her mouth, but he could hear the moans of "Yes, yes, yes, just like that – oh, fuck me, fuck me deeper!" They were like whip cracks, spurring him to obey her panted commands, and he slammed his cock into her splayed cunt.

She was tight but greasy as hell inside. Her tightness, far from inhibiting the pleasure, intensified it. Ed could feel her inner cunt parting as his big dick speared inside, he could feel it springing back into shape as he withdrew for yet another plunge, in endlessly elastic recurrence. Now, here, in the dark, on his bed, she was so much better than she'd been the other time. He couldn't believe it was the same girl. There was a fresh, invigorating, openness to her response which he found more erotic than anything he had ever experienced. If she weren't so young, if she weren't Sibyl's friend, he'd have been tempted, strongly tempted, to make her his mistress, to move her into his home, his bed. He'd have taken her to California with him, too, ensconced her on the silken sheets she deserved, fucked her crazy every day and night.

If it weren't for Sibyl. He couldn't really have a sex life, not the kind he wanted and needed, as long as Sibyl was around. She wouldn't understand. Probably she'd never understand. And until she went away to college somewhere, or found herself a boy, he'd have to continue in just this fashion – hasty assignations with eager, complaisant women who had to be hustled out of the bedroom before his daughter got wind of what was going on. And there had never been a woman as eager or complaisant as Betsy Pike was at this very minute. If he'd been romantically inclined he might have allowed himself to fall in love with her pussy. Perhaps with the entire girl. Only teen-agers mistook hard-ons for the blinding flash of true love, though. Or did they? Ed closed his eyes in the darkness, trying to remember how the sun had shone in Betsy's golden hair, the way her muscles rippled when she walked, the firm uplift of her tits, the graceful curves of her ass. She hadn't seemed so distinctive at the time. Why was she now attacking him where he lived? Perhaps if he turned on the light and saw her smiling young face convulsed with the passion of fucking, she might lose all the allure given her by darkness. If so, he didn't want it to happen. He was in love with something – not Betsy, but certainly the way she balled, and he wanted to hang on to that feeling as long as he could.

Despite the size of his dick, her cunt had no difficulty taking him all. He could feel himself penetrating her completely, bumping his knob on the mouth of her womb, and he could feel the quivering shudders of delight which trembled in her body. She whispered cries of excitement. Why didn't she give vent to her emotions and cry aloud? Sibyl was fast asleep by now, and the girl always slept like, the dead. He remembered the ear splitting pitch of Betsy's orgasmic moans and shrieks, so demonic they sent chills down his spine, and now the bed was rattling louder than the girl's voice. He reached down, his fingers tickling her ribs. Anything to get more life out of her mouth.

She twisted and wiggled as he tickled her, and she groaned and laughed and snickered, but Ed could sense that she was striving to hold herself back. Why? He began to fuck her harder, to see if that might loosen whatever reins still controlled the uninhibited teen-ager who shared his bed.

Her cunt squeezed him when he plunged inside, and he could sense that she was near another orgasm. So, for God's sake, was he! Ed could feel a tightening in his nuts which he wanted to resist as long as possible. He braced himself against her uplifted legs and tried to slow down his thrusts, to stretch out the pleasure of fucking Betsy until it could be better than best.

But how could he slow down when her cunt was pressing him like a vise, urging him to do more than fuck? Even as he struggled to cut his speed in half, her pussy was sucking at him with the full power of its muscular control. She grew tighter upon him, pulling his peter when it tried to withdraw, pulling him even more fiercely when be returned to her depths, and Ed realized that he was no longer in charge of this screw. Betsy was fucking him for her pleasure and she would not be denied anything. He could do no more than lay upon her and make his cock available for her satisfaction. No woman had ever dominated him in this way before, but it was not unpleasant. If she wanted to play this game, he could find it in him to play it with her.

Near the end, he didn't even have to fuck. Her cunt was jerking him off with its own rippling contractions, and he knew that she was on the brink of climaxing. He put his hand on her tit and felt the swollen cone, the hammering heartbeat just behind. He could have heard her pulse, Ed was sure, if his own hadn't been rushing through his ears at the moment. He too was on the verge, ready to drop over.

When his cream gushed, it was through no doing of Ed's. She had pulled his peter and teased the cum from his nuts, and it was her cunt which sucked up his juices, squeezing his dick till he gave her more. And it was her cunt which felt like a blazing fire – but a wet, incredibly wet fire, too. It lived, it breathed, it pulsated as his cock throbbed inside it, and he could sense the weakening of his muscles. Drained more fully than he had ever been drained before, Ed collapsed against her.

They fell onto their sides, her legs still drawn to her tits, his cock inside her. Ed was awash in the juice which flooded her tight young pussy, and she held him there with cuntal muscles of lovely clutching strength. His cock refused to go down. Something about her was too strong to resist. Ed knew that he was ready to fuck her again. He might ejaculate blood instead of jizz, but he had to fuck her again.

"You on top this time," he suggested, shaking his dick inside her. Their faces rubbed together and he could feel the moisture of tears on her cheek. He kissed at those tears. "What's wrong, Betsy?" he asked.

"Am I good?" she whispered. "Am I good?"

"Good?" he said. "You're the best. Ever." And he meant it. What was there about her voice, about her question? Betsy didn't have to ask if she was good. She knew it. Why should she need reassurance now? And why, for Christ's sake, should she be crying? Ed jiggled his cock to underline his renewed need, and they slid into new position. Tie was on his back, the girl seated on his loins with his cock thrust deep inside her. Now she could really control the fuck, by rising and falling with as much speed as she chose. He felt her hands base themselves on his lower stomach, felt her squirm to test the fit of his peter in her cunt, and she began to bob up and down rapidly. God, the friction! he thought as his cock moved inside her pussy. He was almost convinced that he truly was in love with this beautiful child, mad as the idea might seem. Perhaps in the cold light of dawn.

CHAPTER NINE

Betsy was in the kitchen, fixing herself a cup of instant coffee. Her head felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton and she needed to wake up before it was too late. It was already eight-thirty. Too fuckin' early! She stirred the coffee, tasted it and made a face.

"Oh!" she said, as big firm hands came round her body and cupped the perky mounds of her tits. She looked down, smiling, and she turned to face Ed.

He lifted her up, pulled her mouth to his for a good morning kiss that was better medicine than the strongest coffee, and she twined her body round him like a vine. "Look," she said, as their lips separated, "I…"

"You were remarkable," he cut in. "I haven't been fucked so thoroughly since – maybe never! But when I woke up, you were gone. Why didn't you stay? I had plans for greeting the dawn."

Betsy blinked sleep out of her eyes and stared at him – "What the hell are you talking about?" she demanded, easing to her feet. "I was trying to say that I was sorry I didn't show up, but all of a sudden last night I just got so bitchin' sleepy that… Do you mean…" Her blue eyes bulged in shock and she saw that Ed was turning pale as a ghost. Betsy's mind shrugged off the weight of drowsiness and she replayed last night. She'd taken a shower, got all prettied, rouged her nipples even, then she'd drunk a glass of milk with Sibyl. Funny-tasting milk. Kind of bitter. And she'd gotten sleepy. Very, very sleepy.

"Oh-oh," she said, her hands trembling. She covered her mouth and she could feel the cold sweat on her palm. Betsy hadn't fucked Ed last night, and if someone had…

"I had the lights out," he said shakily. "She answered to Betsy. You didn't…"

"I didn't." Betsy swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "Well! I think I'll just run along home, if it's okay with you. Tell Sib I'll see her at the hospital or wherever." She took another sip of coffee, then headed for the door. She was halfway down the drive before she thought of her purse and overnight bag. Fuck them! She could get them another time. Now was no time for her to be hanging around.

Sibyl turned at the knock on her door. "Come in, Daddy," she said calmly, and Ed entered. He closed the door behind him. "I've been expecting you," she added.

He stood there, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. All he wore was his robe of Chinese silk, and it was so short his balls almost showed below the hem. Ed's hands fiddled with the waistcloth, a nervous gesture.

"You know, don't you," Sibyl went on. "You know that it was me last night, not Betsy. Oh, Daddy, I'm not ashamed!" She ran to him, threw her arms around him, hugged him with all her might. Her body nestled inside a fluffy green housecoat and she rubbed the fluff against him the way a cat strokes itself against the leg of a trusted friend.

"Oh, honey," he said weakly, his hands shivering as they tried to grasp her shoulders.

"Yes, Daddy," Sibyl purred, "and you told me I was the very best. I tried to be, just for you. Oh, God, when you made love to me, I wanted to scream and sing and dance around the room! I hated it when you called me Betsy. I wanted you to know it was me, but I was afraid you'd stop. And you didn't! I don't want to be fucked by anyone else but you, Daddy – ever!"

"Sibyl!" he snapped, and she looked up into his face. Her green eyes were large and penetrating, and he saw something in them he had never seen before. His daughter was a little girl no longer. She had become a woman, and her eyes were a woman's eyes. "This can't happen again," he said. "It was wrong. I feel sick right now thinking about it."

"I don't feel sick," she told him. "I've never been happier in my life than when we were fucking and sucking and making love. And how could it be wrong, when I'm the best you ever had?"

"It just is," Ed replied, trying vainly to escape her gasp. She held him like a vine, refusing to let go.

"No!" she protested violently. "Maybe I do have a father fixation, like Betsy says. She thinks it's kinky, but she doesn't know everything. Ever since I was a little girl, you've been the only man I cared about, the only one I wanted to please, the only one I wanted to be with." His face reddened as she described how she'd caught him abed with Cheryl that afternoon, how she'd learned that he'd also fucked her friend Betsy. "Daddy, I tried! I tried to convince myself that I was just being silly about you, that I was disappointed, not jealous. I let Betsy fix me up with that boy – Daddy, I even fucked him – I fucked both of them, and I sucked them off, and I let one of them screw me in the ass, too, but it didn't help. While they were fucking me, I pretended that it was your cock inside me, that you were kissing me and holding me and loving me and sharing your cum with me. And when we finally did it, after I put Betsy out with that sleeping pill, it was the most exciting moment of my life. I can still feel your cock in my throat, gushing with cum. I'll never forget how it felt when you licked me, when you finally fucked me. Can you ever forget?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't answer. Sibyl reached inside his robe with one hand, the other pulling loose the knot of his string. As she stepped back, Ed's silken coat fell open and his cock, nestled inside her firm hand, was already starting to enlarge.

"Look, Daddy," she said with a fluttery giggle. "Your cock remembers!"

And with that Sibyl dropped to her knees. She held his prick with both hands, steadying it for caresses by her mouth. Her tongue was soft and wet, bathing the swelling head of her father's dick with gentle strokes that left his flesh bubbled in spit. She hummed and purred as she licked his pecker, and he could not control the rising progress of erection. His rod engorged in her hands, against her lips, and Ed knew that he was powerless to resist what she was doing to him. "Sibyl," he moaned, the last whimper of his defiance.

She licked him from balls to point, wetting every inch of his throbbing dick with her mouth. "You like it, don't you?" she asked, almost innocently, though the sparkle in her eyes belied the naivete of her voice. They were woman's eyes, indeed, Ed told himself. Sibyl was a child no longer.

"And remember what else I can do?" she teased, lifting her eyebrows. He remembered, but she showed him all the same. His cock tapped on her lips, then disappeared inside, and without the slightest trace of effort Sibyl swallowed him completely. Her lips nuzzled his balls as she soaked his rod, and then she began to suck him in long, sweeping plunges. She used him between her cheeks as she swallowed, and her teeth made carefully erotic scrapes on his pecker, especially when it was fully immersed in her.

To Sibyl it was a perfectly natural way to suck a cock, and she still found it difficult understanding why everyone had gotten so excited Saturday when she first displayed the talent. But not all girls could do it, she was now aware. Betsy, for one. And she could tell from the way her father suddenly grabbed her ears that he liked it. Indeed, the increased throbbing of his peter as she stepped up her attack proved that he really enjoyed her technique – so much so that he was on the verge of coming in her mouth any minute now.

She pulled her head back, ignoring his whimpered protest, and the tip of his dick bounced from her mouth. It bopped her on the nose and chin several times before she could catch it with her hand, and when she did make a fist around Ed's cock, she could feel the telltale swelling that told her he was getting there fast.

Sibyl rubbed his cocktip on her lips, back and forth, faster and faster, while her hand gripped him firmly. There was a friction round her mouth, and a tickling sensation that made her tummy go butterflies. He'd been sopping wet when he slid from her sucking mouth, but the rubbing had nearly dried his cock. Now he was just hot and big, the knob a bloody purple that was the most gorgeous shade of color she had ever seen.

Her tongue came out quickly, turning sideways, fitting into the generous slit creasing the tip of Ed's pecker. She pushed with her linguam, as if she meant to split him there, and she could taste a premonition of the jism he'd soon be squirting.

Soon? Her tongue began to scrape and soon became now!

She tasted his cum before she saw it, a sudden burst of flavor bathing the end of her tongue, anti when that happened she stopped licking. Her hand began to shuck on him and she aimed his discharging peter directly at her face. His jizz gushed upon her, a ferocious blast, and she basked in the shower.

It was milk, she thought, hot, sticky, incredibly sweet to her tastebuds, a spouting river of cum which bathed her face and masturbating hand. She felt his hands savagely gasping the sides of her head, and she knew that he was reveling in his orgasm, that he was getting off in a big way. But she had gotten him off. Sibyl, her hands, her mouth. She was the best. The very best, he'd told her. He must remember that now.

She let go of his cock and reached up to touch the jism on her face. It was like body lotion and she rubbed it into the pores of her skin. Some of it she scooped into her mouth where it could be tasted and savored. No one's cum could be as sweet as Daddy's. No one cock could be as big, as hard, as beautiful as Daddy's. No one could appreciate his cum or his cock the way she could.

"Don't you see?" she panted, rising to her feet as his cock dripped a few last bubbles of jism on the carpet at their feet. "Don't you see, Daddy? I love you, and I want you to love me. You don't have to bother with Cheryl and Betsy or anyone else from now on. I'm here, and I'll always be ready to give you whatever you need, in bed or out of bed."

She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. His hand clutched her chin, turned it, and his mouth crushed hers in a passionate kiss. Sibyl went "Ahhhh", her very soul flowing out of her body through that kiss. His came to meet it, a blending of essences that thrilled her to the marrow. She fumbled between their bodies, undoing the front of her robe. It opened, fell to the floor, and she wrapped her nude body around him.

Ed's hands shot low, grasping the cheeks of her ass, and she didn't have to strain on tiptoes now, for he was holding her up, his hands squeezing her ass in an eager way that left Sibyl perfectly aware of how he felt about her. Her pubic hairs brushed the wet lump of his dick and she sighed as he swelled with fresh new vigor.

He moved with her – she forced herself to be a puppet in his arms, a warm, yielding puppet – and she knew that he was guiding her to the bed. She fell to the mattress and he was upon her, his cock gigantic and fiery between their bellies, and Sibyl had to have him inside her. She opened her legs, moving her cunt suggestively against his peter. Ed reached down, pulling his dong into position. He moved, she moved, and they came together.

Sibyl was wettening, but not yet fully lubricated. As his dick struggled to complete its entry she whined, "Ooooohhhh" and her fingernails clawed on his back. His weight lay upon her, trapping her where she stretched, and she'd not have had it any other way. Not this time, at least. Daddy had to learn that he needed her as much as she needed him, and the best way was to show him; let him realize that he was lying upon his daughter, that he was in the act of thrusting his big cock up her succulent young cunt. Then let him tell her that it was wrong.

Something gave way in Sibyl's pussy. The muscles relaxed, she felt a sudden warm wetness, and he slid home in her with a groan. His belly thumped hers, and she folded her slim legs around him. She pulled his face in for a kiss, and she kissed him till her lungs ached for breath. "See," she panted, "see how easy it is? Am I still the best, Daddy? Am I still the very best?"

"Oh, Christ, yes," he whispered, beginning to fuck for real.

"And you won't mess around with anybody else? Ever again? Not Cheryl, not Betsy, not anyone – only me? Promise?"

"I promise," he husked, moving his cock.

Sibyl bucked and writhed beneath him, her heart bursting with joy. He was the best, too, she thought. And together they were unbeatable. All her life she'd been given everything, whatever anyone thought she needed or wanted, and now, when it really counted, she knew that her father would not – could not – fail her. She plied him in the vise of her clinging legs, sucking his dick up her hungry pussy. "Fuck me Daddy," she chanted, sobbing for happiness. "Fuck me forever!"

Content

Ron Taylor
Hot for dad

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE