'Huh?' His hand was down there, his finger easing into my slit. I did nothing to stop him. Jesus, it felt good, his finger going in, lubricated by all my flowing juice.
'I told you they did the damned same thing to me that they did to mama. I can't have kids.'
I saw his eyes take on a gleam. He cupped his hand and drove his finger all the way up my cunt to my ovaries and rubbed his palm on my clit and my hips, knowing what to do even if I didn't, lit up and lifted and pushed and squirmed. 'You sure?' he asked.
'Lead pipe cinch,' I said. I wanted him to do it some more, run his finger up me. I'd run my own finger up me and I knew that if he kept it up for a while I'd blow my fuse.
'You ever done it, Ruby?' He was working on me and my hips were dancing. 'I mean with anyone but me?' 'Never,' I said.
'I know I used to promise you it'd be good, but you were too young. It'd be different now.' 'O.K.,' I said.
He flushed and shivered and threw-himself down onto the bed. He still had his finger up me. He put his nose and mouth on one of my knockers and chewed it through the pajama top. His entire body was quivering.
I don't remember Ruf ever kissing me. He would guide one tit into his mouth and chew on it and he'd cup the other and squeeze it. That night I had my tits chewed for the first time and, wow, I found out that they were something else, those mounds on my chest. I found out they were for something other than to hold the front of a sweater out. I was moaning and groaning and wiggling and his finger was up me and giving me a wild ass. I made him switch and chew the other. He'd opened the pa jama top and was going at them good.
I've talked about my wetness. Some women are dry. Some are wet. The wet ones have a liberal flow of juices when they're hot. The dry ones are usually tender and sensitive. The wet ones are more apt to like having fingers and other objects tucked up into their twats. I'm one of them. I'm a wet one. I can ruin a pair of panties and, if the condition isn't fixed, I mean, if I get hot and don't have a chance to cool off in bed, I'm apt to flood my panties and have the hot juice working all the way through my dress.
I was a wet one that nigh,t with Ruf's finger up me. I was ready. I loved Ruf s big finger. It was much better than having my own finger up me. It was wild. His hand cupped, his social finger reaching up inside me, his palm on my dit. I fucked his hand and finger with all my might, discovering ways to sling my ass that I hadn't known existed but which came naturally for a sexy girl.
Then he claimed me. He went between my legs, having worked the pajamas off. He fell on me. I felt his wildness. I felt his weight. It was Ruf, I guess, who made me like rough men, men who don't worry about supporting their weight on their elbows. I want a man all over roe, his weight smothering me, his weight helping his cock drive into me. I want to feel all of him.'
Old Ruf threw his body on mine as if he were going to absorb rne right into him. Long, hard cock thrust and searched. It wanted me. It wanted my cunt. It used its hard length to rub its head all over my wet pussy and then it found the hole and wham it pushed and my breath was driven out of my body and I let my ass lift up and it was going, getting bigger and harder, driving, searching now for my most secret inside spots and I was panting, trembling, jerking my ass fast and hard and making his cock go into me deeper with each stroke. I felt that hard, fat, cocky cylinder slide into home and, whee, I gave him a few jerks and bumps and grinds, all of it coming naturally to me, and then we settled down to long, hard rhythm and I came just as Ruf came and pumped his come into me, making me all soft and warm and wet inside. We moaned and ground together and he didn't even stop, just kept right on fucking into his own come.
The second time was ever greater. I blacked out for a moment after the goodness was over. I came and my pussy clutched at Ruf's cock and he felt it and held it hard up in me, just a little movement to make it good for me. 'You're fast,' he said. 'You're not going to stop now?' I wailed.
He didn't. He began to pump and my twat came alive again in three strokes. He came. I felt that sudden gush of come and he grunted and pumped and I said, 'If you stop now, Ruf Gore, I'll let you rot in hell before I ever give you any again.'
'Damn,' he moaned, moving his relaxing cock tenderly.
'Goddamriit, Ruf,' I said. 'You can't stop now just when it's good.'
He fell off and lay on his back and breathed heavily. I looked at his useless cock. It was shriveling up and it was coated with his come and my juices and I wanted that thing hard again and in me. It had been a long life without being laid and now that I'd found out how wonderful it was I wanted more, more. I wanted it pumping load after load into me. But Ruf was shot down.
But I'd been reading his books and I thought of a way, although I'd never tried it, to get him interested again. I gave my first blow job. I fell down and before I could take much time to think about it I took that lax cock into my mouth, tasting his come and my juices and I was so hot and so eager that I loved it immediately. I sucked and tasted and licked and the first thing I knew I'd created my first miracle. I resurrected Ruf's lax cock and he was pumping into my mouth, making fucking motions. 'No you don't,' I said, jerking away. I mounted him and sat on that stiff joint and sank it up into my body and began to dance on it. He just lay there, his back stiff, his hips lifted, and I used him. I mean, it was the first time in my life I'd ever screwed just for me and it was one wild experience. I danced and twisted and lifted and sank and bounced and moaned and came twice before Ruf got interested and came into me, pushing it up until it moved my liver aside and blasted out white joy into my thirsty womb. I said, 'Ruf, that was just lovely.'
And we slept side by side until we woke up, hearing my mother in the kitchen singing hymns, and he crawled on me with a morning piss hard and we went wild with a quickie and went out to breakfast, me holding a load of his come, and Ruf looking smug and happy. Shit, why not? We didn't have much. We ate fish and grits and wore hand-me-down clothing. We had nothing, we Gores, so why shouldn't a good Gore boy enjoy the body of his good Gore sister?
Well, it was just a couple of months after that that good old Juby began to see me as a woman, I'd guess, because he started reaching out to rub a tit when I'd get close. We'd never been an affectionate family, at least not between parents and children. So Juby's sudden fondness for putting his arm around me and for patting me on the ass came through just for what it was, lust. It got more and more obvious that my dear old pump stealing papa was thinking of more than father-daughter love and I began to try to decide what I'd do. I decided, since Juby always seemed to have an extra dollar for a bottle of Thunderbird wine, that I'd get something out of it besides a jazzing if he ever worked up enough nerve to punch me.
It came on a Sunday morning when Ma had gone off to church and Ruf was off somewhere and Sam was on the chain gang for nearly killing a guy in a bar. We were sacked out and I heard Juby get up and go to the used refrigerator. He drank all weekend long.
Ruf had been gone all weekend and I hadn't had any. I was lying there, warm and a little hot, toying with my clit. I'd long since stopped sleeping in anything. I was getting well rounded by that time, a girl reaching for a nice figure. I listened to Juby bumble around. When he opened the door I closed my eyes and pretended sleep.
'You 'wake, Ruby?' he asked. I grunted. He came in and stood beside the bed. I had the sheet over me, but I knew that he could see my nipples sticking up through it. 'Wanna cook me somethin'?' 'Ah, Pa,' I moaned. 'I don't wanta get up.' He stood there and I could hear him breathing. Something in me, I don't know what, made me stretch. I arched my body-and the sheet clung to it, outlining my boobs and clinging to my mound, which stuck out nicely. I opened my eyes and say, he was taking it all in, his eyes wide, his mouth open. 'Honey,' he said, 'you're going to be a woman soon.' 'I already am, Pop,' I said.
'I mean, you're growing up.' He sat down on the side of the bed. 'Pretty soon the boys are going to be after you.' 'I hope so,' I said, giggling.
'Poor little gal,' he said, his voice almost on the weepy side. 'No mama. Look, you ever have any questions, you come to your pappy, you hear.' 'Sure, pop,' I said.
'I mean your poor old Ma can't help you, there,' he said. 'Like, she don't know nothing about such things. And boys will be boys.' He paused. 'Ain't no boy tried anything with you, have they?' 'What do you mean, pa?' 'I mean, like feeling you up and all.'
'Oh, no.' I was laughing at the old fart. I decided to have some fun with him. 'What do they do to you, pa?'
He swallowed and gulped and got red and his hands jerked as he said, 'Well, they try to play with your boobs.'
'Why would they want to do that?' I asked. 'They're just boobs. Only thing they're good for is suckling kids,
