She grabbed me by the head of my penis and held on, laughing like a banshee.
CHAPTER TEN
I put my finger to her lips and she quieted at once, looking sheepish. “Golly, I got carried away. I guess I'm going to love this as much as you.”
I stiffened and nodded my head like a Von Krupp, but my dignity was fading fast. My penis was not, however. It was growing to prodigious size under her grip. I was in the same shape as the last time, all worked up and not yet relieved of my load.
Trudy wiggled her fingers on my shaft and I felt the electricity zip all the way up to the fuse box inside my balls, where the sperm cells were lined up, anxious to be trooped out for inspection. Her hand went to my head and again I got the message, feeling my belly tighten and the muscles in my thighs turn tighter, anxious to propel my loins against the target.
“You're ready already,” she observed, looking like a clinic physician.
“Yes. And you?”
“First you'll have to take my clothes off. I'll allow you to do that much.”
I was as surprised as she when I shook my head. “Nope. You said you'd do everything. I'm your guest, sweetheart, so you take care of yourself. As a matter of fact, I'd like to watch you removing your clothing. Put some style into it and maybe we can write it into the act.”
She was giggling again, suddenly the child, and my heart went out to her. I wanted to cuddle her, almost like a father-but not quite. She caught the mood, sucking her thumb and making her knees knock as she put one foot on top of the other.
“Don't suck your finger, child,” I said, “and get out of those dirty clothes. Come on, dance for your old man.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she exclaimed, kicking off her sandals and reaching behind her to pull the long zipper. Her mini split open like a banana and she had it down over her hips to the carpet in seconds, giggling and casting shy glances at me all the while. She had nothing on but her pants and they were a baby blue with lots of pretty lace around the bottom and up into her crotch. I could see a few blonde hairs sticking out through the material, waving hello to me.
“Like me?” she cried.
“You're a lovely child,” I exclaimed, my cock standing straight out from my body, daring me to vault onto her, but I held back. “Now the dance.”
She began to skip around the room, humming a childhood song that was vaguely familiar even to me. As she pranced, I kept turning, my eyes glued on her, watching her hair fly back, her stiff breasts quake, their nipples dancing. Jesus, but she was built like a mermaid with exquisite legs, her waist thin, her hips flashing back and ahead with each leap from her strong legs. Her toes gripped the carpet like a mountain goat and even that was exciting.
She had everything: youth, beauty, grace, talent and a style all her own.
“Trudy?” I whispered as she flashed close to me, her fingers shoving her pants over her hips so that they barely clung, like a sagging bikini bottom.
“What?”
“You're not real, are you? You were sent here to me as a reward by some hand greater than us.”
She was laughing again, pausing to allow her pants to drop to her ankles. With an expert kick she lofted them across the room, draping them across a black cat figurine on the TV set. “If you say so,” she said breathlessly. “You're the daddy so you know best.”
“Then come sit in your old daddy's lap, child.”
I sank to the floor, leaning back against the sofa, my hands out to her. She paused, her head alert like a bird's, listening for her worm in the moist ground. Then she came to me, her white thighs working, her pussy a nest of blondeness that invited penetration with its every quiver.
She went to her knees before me so that I had a straight ahead view, loving it, seeing directly into her crotch. My hand came out to caress the hairs, but I took it back. I was the daddy and she was the little girl and this thing had to be done right-with parental restraint.
I wiggled my fingers and she crawled forward, turning herself so that she eased her bottom across my loins and then settled in my lap. Her lovely legs kicked at one side and her head was thrown far back at the other. Directly under my nose were those zestful breasts, that belly that was breathing a bit hard from her exertion, and that Y where I was soon going to place my I.
“Fantastic.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“Let's play a little game.”
“Gee, that sounds groovy.”
“Everywhere I touch you, then you touch me in the same place. Ready?”
She was plenty ready, and so was I, my penis temporarily thrust aside by her bottom, but it was throbbing hard and I knew she felt its impatience.
I placed my finger on the tip of her nose and she did the same to me. I touched her lips and she did the same to me. My finger slid inside her lips and she opened her mouth to receive it, sucking on my finger until it was all the way inside. Jesus, I was ready to go off already but, fortunately, her weight was acting as a partial brake on my flow.
Her finger popped into my mouth and I let her count my teeth. They were all there, all right, and I used them to nibble on her finger, while she nibbled on mine. Taking my finger from her mouth, I dried it in her hair, while she went through the same routine.
Then I traced a line down the profile of her face, from forehead to nose, to lips, to chin, to throat-her finger did the same, shoving a little harder when it passed my chin. My hand went into the valley between her breasts and paused, waiting for her to catch up.
Instead she fooled me, rolling from my lap and releasing my dork so that it was pointed skyward, like a Minuteman on ready alert. She smiled at it like a mother looking into a crib before looking me in the eye.
“I'm in charge, remember? The daughter-daddy game is over. Now please lie down on your back, hands at your sides, feet together.”
I couldn't argue with her sincerity. “All right, doctor.”
“That's an idea. Doctor and nurse.” She pushed her hands into my stomach, sinking several inches until I thought she'd go through to the carpet. “Does it hurt there?”
“I'd hurt anywhere you dropped an anvil on me,” I complained. “Come on, captain, take charge. Cut the chatter for a while.”
“Righto,” she agreed, straightening and leaning back on her feet. She knelt before me like that for more than a minute, looking down, studying my body, but not touching. I took the opportunity to gaze on hers as it loomed over me from my vantage point on the carpet. Her thighs were delightfully flattened against her calves, squeezing together so that my view of her vagina was partly cut off. Somehow this excited me even more and my cock was turning from white to red to blue, looking like the Fourth of July just before the Roman candles go off.
Then her hands were on me and there was no place she missed, working from my head to my feet, rolling me over to do my backside and then straightening me around again. Her touch went across my chest, into my loins. She roamed the crack of my buttocks, along the base of my gonads, out on the shaft of my penis, over every dip and bulge of the head itself, even winking into the eye at the tip.
“I'm coming,” I exclaimed.
“You keep threatening,” she chided, “but I don't see any action yet. What's keeping you?”
“Well, it would be nice if you were engaged, so to speak. Come on, child, make contact.”
“Please be still. I'm the boss lady.”
As though she were mounting a horse, she threw one leg over mine, sitting hard on my knees so that I winced as they tried to bend backwards. My cock was about where the horn would be on a Western saddle, but she
