'No, no, no!' she protested. 'Don't do it!'
'Take your choice, but you can't leave me with this Goddamned bulge in my balls.'
Sally winced.
'What? S-s-s-suck on… on that?' She had ever heard of! She couldn't imagine anyone doing it. It was horrible!
'Millions of women suck cock!' Jim said with a grin.
'I don't believe you.'
'I'm not lying, baby,' the boy said exasperatedly. 'Here… if that's too much, jack me off, then. Just go on moving your hand and keep it in the shape of a cunt – slow at first. I'll tell you when to speed up so I can cum.'
His hardened cock was hot in her hand. She could feel the heat it exuded through the tautly stretched skin of the thickly throbbing shaft as she did his bidding, fucking her hand stiffly up and down as he had showed her. Her fingers only just met around the blood-swollen rod, and she wondered how such a huge hunk of cock was ever able to fuck up inside a girl's pussy. If anyone tried to get one in hers… well, good luck, fella! Nobody was going to fuck her with one of those things!
But it wasn't a question she wanted to pursue. Jim might try to show her, and she didn't want to be fucked by a guy just yet! Nevertheless, in the state her cunt had been in, as short as a few minutes ago, she might well have allowed him to split her cherry, the all-consuming passion she had felt in her tits and pussy would have swept away all fears, all objections! It was a frightening thought to the innocent girl.
She started out of her reverie. Jim was mumbling to her. She had unconsciously tightened her grip on his cock as she'd mused, and now he grated: 'Christ, what the hell you tryin' to do? Strangle it?' He wiggled in the seat. 'Loosen your hand… let it move kind of easily, all the way up and down. Over the head, too.'
Trying to follow his instructions obediently, she felt his hard cock pulsating and jerking in her hand, and somehow there was a thrill to jacking him off! Some indefinable feeling or erotic stimulation coursed through her cunt and she had the sudden idea that there was power, force, an animal energy in the cock itself, independent of Jim, as it responded to her now light, cunt-like touch. His cock expanded and throbbed under her fingers, its heat seeming to increase with the friction as she spit in her hand and milked the stiffened shaft of male flesh like a pussy fucking up and down on it.
Now his hips were undulating, jerking up and down to meet the hot, wet stroking of her inexperienced fingers, fucking into her hollowed fist with fury. He fucked into her cunt-formed hand faster and faster, the sticky pre-cum oozing from his glans, lubricating the way, until she could no longer keep up with him. Holding her hand almost immovable, she waited desperately for him to shoot out his cum.
His handkerchief was in his hand, hovering just over the blood-engorged head of his wildly fucking cock. He must be very near to cumming, Sally decided, marveling at the realization that her hand was acting as a female cunt for him to fuck and empty his balls. Then suddenly the boy grunted and gave a final upward fuck. She could feel the hard rod of flesh in her grasp begin a spasmodic, staccato jerking, pumping its hotly steaming juices through the tumescent tube of his cock and on up into the wadded handkerchief.
She was disappointed that she could not actually see the hot white juice of his cum spurting from his cock tip. But some of the scalding fluid escaped and dribbled down through her tightly clenched fingers, and she could smell the pungent male odor of him in the confines of the car. She found it not at all unpleasant. The remembrance of the surprise she had found in this feeling was still with her, and making her pussy a little slick when she finished dressing and turned to see her father, Brad, staring at her with hungry eyes.
One hand poked at the burning embers with a charred stick, his eyes flashing hotly in the fire's reflection as he had watched her dress. That look, mused Sally, slipping her foot into the rubber thong, that look in his eyes reminds me of the way that boy looked when he creamed in my hand.
But no! she reasoned with a pang of guilt. He's my own father and girls just don't go around letting their own father fuck them. But, she felt her cunt moisten a little more, the warm slippery juices seeping out under the cunt band of her panties and wetting her inner thighs, I'll bet Daddy's got the biggest, most beautiful cock in the world. If girls did let their daddies fuck them, I'd probably be the first one to lay down on my back and spread my legs and pussy wide for him. I'll bet he could fuck a girl like a wild bull.
CHAPTER TWO
Brad had been staring out at the tail cypress trees and watching the water rise up their trunks. He was wondering if it had been such a good idea parking the camper where he had. Judging from the wetness of the sand when they'd arrived early this morning, it seemed as if the tide would reach only the large grove of trees far to the right of them where the water was lapping against them now. That left a huge expanse of water between them and the rest of the land, eventually leading to the road. The only problem would be getting cut off from the forest behind them, should the tide rise that high. Brad looked up in the sky, relying on his intuitive knowledge. The moon was full, a sign which predictably indicates high tides.
Well, he thought, churning the fire and wedging another splintered log close to the coals, no use worrying Sally about it. If the tide does come up this far, the worst that could happen is not being able to drive out until it goes down again. His eyes scanned the darkened trees in back of him. There was some higher ground where they could move the pick-up if necessary.
'Hey! Where's the wine?' he called out, cupping his hands like a megaphone to call over the sound of the ever-approaching water.
Blonde hair sweeping through the air reflected the fire's glow as Sally strode toward her father, digging her toes in the still warm earth.
She unscrewed the cap on a half gallon jug and poured out a paper cupful. 'Here you go, Daddy. Drink up!'
She poured another cupful and was joining him, mesmerically staring into the fire.
'Hey, I thought you didn't drink. Miss Chastity and all that,' he teasingly berated.
'I'm so thirsty from the sun I'd drink swamp water if I had to,' laughed Sally, taking a long pull on her wine. She swallowed, not enjoying the taste, yet savoring the wetness. 'You think we're the only people camping down here?' she asked, surveying the tree-darkened horizon where the phosphorescent-tipped cypresses gleamed under the moon's shimmer. Craning her neck, she looked behind them, a sudden shiver shooting up her spine. 'You don't think we're too close to the water, do you? I mean I'm not afraid or anything, but I'd hate to wake up under water,' she chuckled half heartedly.
'Naw, just means you're gonna have to go potty in front or me if you can't get to the trees.'
Sally rounded her shoulders and made finger prints in the soft earth, looking up only when her father patted her on her knee. She'd always been shy.
'Come on, honey. This is called communing with mother nature, enjoy it!' That little girl, scared look in her blue eyes had not eluded him. Jesus, she was voluptuous even when she looked twelve years old – like now. Suddenly, he wished he'd met her hitchhiking or in a bar, that she was a total stranger. Then he could lay her down and fuck her the way his cock screamed for him to do. Again, he wondered if she was really a virgin. Waiting for her to speak, he pulled a strand of golden silk away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. He wanted to see that uptilted nose and high cheekbones in the heated glow of the fire.
Sensing his heated gaze, Sally built tiny mounds of moss, smoothing it with trembling fingers before poking holes in the miniature hills and finally smoothing them flat again.
'You're thinking about something, what is it?'
'It's spooky here being alone, don't you think?' He loved the way she wrinkled up her nose when she talked and wanted to take her picture as she was now, bathing in oranges and reds.
'It was either camping down here on our own, or pulling into one of those state park campsites. That's not what I call fun. This is Bayou country, honey, the most beautiful spot in Louisiana. Only problem is, everybody knows it and fill those campsites with their screaming kids.'
Sally sniffed, wiped her nose on her sweat shirt sleeve and nodded in acquiescence. Something ominous about the dark trees, the moon and the spooky lapping of the tide made her quiver. Ah, probably just because I've
