eh?'
He leaned down, though, and put his tongue there first. He pressed his long splayed mouth muscle up against her little clitoris and her thin little labia leaves. 'Oh, God,' he drooled, 'I really do like the looks of your pretty little pussy, my dear. It's delicious. I'm going to ravish your body because you have so nice a twat…' He continued to eat out the twelve year old little girl's hot little pussy slot. He really enjoyed licking her up like that, and Sharon Pettibone couldn't honestly say that she didn't like the feel of that big old tongue rubbing and sliding against her inside lips the way it was… and to show him that she felt that way, she spread her splendid, thin little legs and lifted them up so that the old man could get his hot wet phallic-like mouth muscle into just about every nook and cranny of her pussy. He rubbed at her lips, at her clit, at the creases inside, at the folds around the mound. He took to licking and slopping, even, at her asshole which was also available. It was clean and fresh, the entrance tight and tapered. He enjoyed sliding his mouth muscle up and down between the child's legs almost as much as she had begun to enjoy having it done.
'Oh, God, Mister,' she moaned, 'I think something's happening.'
'Of course something is happening,' he said back between long licks. 'You're getting nice and hot and juicy. That's what's happening.' He reached up along her smooth little stomach and up to the little nubs of developing breast flesh. 'Look at those teats of yours. They're up and willing to go. This nice smooth stomach of yours — it's good and flat and hot for rubbing. And your wet little ass hole? It's practically begging for a good little finger rubbing! Of course things are happening: I'm the Marquis De Dover City, and I'll be giving you all the rubbing and sucking and eating and screwing that any twelve year old little girl ever did get!'
It was then that young Sharon Pettibone, not twelve year old Sharon as in the fantasy, but the teenager who had been imagining herself — it was just then that she came slightly to her numbed senses. 'Oh, God,' she hummed, 'I've become so depraved. So debauched. And? And I love it!' She took the twisting dildo out of her pussy and set it aside. She turned around and started licking her arm. She was crazed with lust. She nibbled at her own fingers, licked between her digits. She was crazed with lust. She nibbled at her own fingers, licked between her digits. She went sliding her tongue up and down on her knuckles. She washed her finger tips by sucking them off in her own pursed lips. She stuck one finger up her ass hole and then put it between her lips and sucked harder than ever before. She took the same finger and slid it along her pussy lips and then rubbed it into her nostril. She had no idea what she was doing. She could feel heat coming out of her twat, but she didn't know what it was. She retrieved the dildo and continued sliding it back and forth on her twat lips. She felt her body become electric, super-charged and chilled. Goosebumps climbed her belly and wrapped their way around her firmed breasts and hot sprung nipples. She was ecstatic with self-abuse and abandon. She pushed the mechanical prick down deep between her pussy leaves and felt herself begin to gush. It didn't stop for a full fifteen minutes.
Chapter Eight
When Mr. and Mrs. Pettibone arrived home on Sunday evening, they found their house pretty much as Sharon had left it after no less than five sessions of extraordinary self-abuse. On the livingroom sofa was a stain, a splotch, the size of a watermelon. In the kitchen was the odor of clit juice. Those two rooms, in fact, smelled like a French whore house after six weeks of defilement. The refrigerator door was open, the food stank. The t.v. was on and blaring, as was the new stereo system. The throw rugs were disheveled and tossed here and there on furniture.
As for their bedroom, Mr. and Mrs. Pettibone couldn't believe their eyes. They discovered their daughter Sharon sprawled out nude with a dildo still vibrating, laying by her side. From her twat leaked a trickle of juice, and in her left hand was a puddle of melted lime jello. The sheets to her left were stained with chocolate pudding. The phone was off the hook and the bedspread was tossed halfway out the window. Sharon was half-conscious. 'Hi Mom, hi Dad,' she mumbled, and she flicked the machine off. 'I guess I fell asleep.'
The next morning Mr. Pettibone escorted his daughter to a clinical psychologist who gave Sharon both a physical and mental examination. He found nothing wrong with her physically, but he was rather concerned about her sexual attitudes and fantasies: 'I don't quite understand,' said Dr. Rooker, 'how it is that you are so interested in masturbating yourself, Ms. Pettibone.'
'Either that or getting it for real,' said young Sharon as she buttoned her blouse. She didn't blush. 'I mean really, Doctor Rooker, what would you have me do? I'm a young horny adolescent and I like jacking myself off. I don't know any boys that I really like, and I kind of enjoy sex a lot. So I lay back in bed or in the bathroom and I get myself hot and bothered. It's fun. I like to use my fingers on my clit. It gives me thrills and chills. You know what I mean? It makes me so damn fucking hot that I can't tell you about it. You know what I'm saying? I like men. I like the idea of getting hot and getting laid. But I don't have any boyfriends. I don't know any young men from school who I would like to suck and fuck with. So I masturbate. Is that so sick?'
Dr. Rooker could think of nothing to say. Except, he did tell Mr. Pettibone that Sharon was going through a stage, that she would be able to act a little more normally in a few months or a year, that for right now it wouldn't be too wise to come down hard on her. For that advice and diagnosis Mr. Pettibone refused to pay. He took his daughter home and made her undress in front of him. 'You may have talked that Dr. Rooker into thinking you're normal, but you haven't convinced me.' He brandished his leather belt. 'Lay down across my knee, young lady, and take what you have coming to you.'
'Oh, Daddy,' she moaned, secretly enjoying the idea, 'do I have to?'
'It's for your own good,' he said, trying not to eyeball his daughter's supremely luscious chest. 'If I don't give you a good licking,' he added, 'you'll grow up thinking that masturbation is alright. I don't want you to be one of those perverted young women who become models for pornographers. Now lay down across my knee.'
She smiled and wondered what it would be like to be a model for a pornographer. Then she laid down across her father's knee, her titties hanging low, her ass cheeks spreading wide. 'Oh, Daddy,' she begged in as sweet a voice as possible, 'don't strap me too hard. Please? Please? Don't hit me too hard with that piece of leather. It might hurt — OH, please, no, oh.'
She felt the sting of his punishing strokes at her ass cheeks. He spared her nothing. He whipped her solidly with the leather belt. He left neat red welts on her ass cheeks, and even though it hurt her, even though he beat her body mercilessly, Sharon couldn't help but think that her father didn't really want to do that and that she really didn't mind having it done. It made her pussy leak just to be nude with her father in her parents' bedroom. When it was over, with tears in her eyes, she followed her father's orders to say 'I will not jack myself off ever again.' He made her say it fifty times before he let her up off his knee. She noticed as she left the room that his cock muscle was tumescent and bulging in his trousers. She wondered as she locked herself in her bedroom if her father was going to jack off now.
That night, when she was going to sleep, Sharon heard her mother coming down the hallway. She opened the door so that Mrs. Pettibone could come in and say good night. Sharon's mother didn't think that her daughter deserved such a terrible punishment, but she also believed that the father of the household was boss. And that's why she was of no assistance during the strapping. 'Good night, darling,' said Mrs. Pettibone. 'You'll feel better in the morning.'
'Yes, Mother,' said Sharon who was laying on her belly in bed. She had the sheets pulled up around her neck as she lay face down. A moment later her father showed up at the door. 'Now you know what kind of trouble masturbation can get you into, Sharon. I expect you'll not do any more of it.' He shut the door behind him as he left his daughter alone in her bedroom. Debby, her sister, was still out with one of her boyfriends.
Sharon lay quite still in the darkness. No one knew that secretly she had a finger up between her twat lips. Even as her mother and father spoke to her she'd been fiddling with her clitoris. 'I don't care what they say,' she mumbled to herself, 'I happen to like playing with my meaty little clit button and I'm going to continue to do so until I find a man who can do better. I feel that strongly about it.' And she continued to swab at her clit with her index finger. 'Oh, God,' she moaned, 'it feels so nice.' She reached out over the edge of the bed.
Even though her father had confiscated what tools and photos he could find, Sharon still harbored, in her
