"Not no little whore, Pa. Don't you remember?" I said, sort of dragging the words out so they'd sting him more. As he came slowly closer, I said, "I'm the biggest whore in Brevard County. Remember? If you've told me once you've told me a million times. Been fucked by everybody but the preacher's mule. Them was your own words. Don't you remember? Course I ain't been fucked by you... not yet!"
"Sinful little slut!" he said, stopping just a couple of feet away. I could see a muscle working beneath the dark brown skin that was stretched drum tight across his square jaws.
"Sinful as they come. But I got nice knockers, ain't I, Pa?" I watched the hunger mix with the hate on his flat features as I pulled the front of my dress wide, letting my big knockers stare him right in the eyes. He kept staring at them and wiping the palms of his hands on the front of his faded jeans, as I fingered them and said, "You gonna just stand there alookin' at 'em all day? You one of them fellows who's gotta do a lot of lookin' 'fore he can get it up? Ol' Miley Adams, he's like that. Has to watch somebody else a-fuckin' 'fore he can get it up. You like that, Pa?"
"Shut your Goddamn mouth," he said, slowly, like it was all he could do to get the words out. The thick muscles of his arms and chest bunched beneath his blue work shirt as he kept on wiping his hands up and down his jeans. I could see his pecker pushing against the front of his pants, and I knew I was really gettin' back at the hateful old bastard.
He was standing there hating himself as much as he hated me. Hating himself because he'd give in and come here, and hating me because I wasn't makin' it easy for him. I wasn't about to, either.
He'd come here to fuck me, and I wasn't going to pretend different.
"Well, if you didn't come to look, and you didn't just come to talk about doin' it, then you must've come to fuck," I said, stepping closer to him across the straw-covered floor. I stopped when I was standing with my tits less than an inch away from his chest, let my hand reach down to feel of his pecker, then, like I was surprised, said, "Well, you sure enough did come here to fuck! Seems like you got a right nice hard on. You could sure enough do a girl up pretty with a pecker like that. That's what you come for, ain't it?"
I wanted to hear him admit it.
"Shut your Goddamn filthy mouth!" he snapped suddenly, and I tried to duck as I saw his open hand swing up from his side. It exploded against the side of my face and I reeled backward. My eyes lost focus for a second or so, then it was all right again. He'd hit me a hell of a lot harder before. I laughed right in his face.
"So you don't want to do no talkin' about it, huh? You just wanna get it in? Well, get it in ain't that what brought you here...? That's what brought me here." His face was twisted with pure hate as he admitted what I wanted to hear. He walked slowly toward me, unbuckling his belt as he came, and he glared at me like I'd crawled from under a rock as he added, "You ain't no good... ain't never been no good... been the ruination of every single one of us. I should never've blamed Clay. Should've knowed it was your doings all along. Should've knowed that."
"But I'm good enough to fuck, ain't I, Pa?" I said, standing with my hands on my hips and not backing up an inch. He didn't scare me no more. Not now. I knew that he'd never scare me again. I said, "I'm good enough you'll come crawling to me for pussy, ain't I? Ain't I that good, Pa?"
"And that's all you're good for," he said, then threw his arms around me and pulled me in against him. His big hands dug brutally into my rump, pulling me in so that I could feel his pecker pushin' at me through our clothes. His face was against my neck. I heard him whisper, "Just good for a man to unload himself," as he backed me toward the straw piled in the corner. His shirt was bruising my nipples. "But you're plenty good for that," he said, then flung me down on the straw.
He tore at his clothes like a wild man, while I watched and waited, laughing to myself. He was horny as a billy goat with three peckers... him, the uppity old son of a bitch, the high and mighty bastard who'd spent three years making me pay for one short fuck. I gave him a look that said I was horny myself... He stared at me as he kept right on clawing at his clothes.
My dress had flew way up my long legs when he threw me down, and I shifted them so he could see most all there was to see. The blue dress made a frame around my white knockers, and I knew that my long dark hair must look pretty good to him as it fanned out against the lighter-colored straw that made a thick pillow beneath me. I was naked under the dress, but I was pretty sure he couldn't see my cunt... just close enough to keep him drooling as he stepped out of his jeans.
He was brown all over from working out in the sun, except from his waist down, and even there the wind had burned him darker than most. His muscles were like thick ropes under his skin, and he would have really turned my damper up, just from looking, if I hadn't hated him so much.
Still, I had to admit, he was really hung...
His pecker was hard, I could easily see as I looked up and saw him shuck his shorts, but its own weight caused it to slant downward toward where I lay. His nuts were enormous beneath it, a hairy sack that filled the space between his thighs. As if his mind had been miles away, he suddenly looked down across his naked body, then down at me, and he said, "So now I ain't no better'n you. We're both of us sure enough headed to hell."
"Sure enough," I agreed, then ran my hand down across the place where my dress sank into the hollow above my cunt. "Any special way you wanna get there, Pa?"
And then he came after me.
As he sank down on the straw, I raised one knee.
The dress lifted and slid down my bare thigh, falling into blue folds across my lower hips. It let him see my cunt, I knew, and his face tightened as he stared down between my thighs. I used my hand to tug the dress up higher. He put his knees between my legs and came at me like a bull in heat. I had won it all.
He got his hands on my knockers and squeezed them like it was the first time he'd ever felt a tit. The hard muscles of his thighs were pushing against the insides of my legs, spreading them, and he tried to kiss me on the mouth. I turned my head.
"You can fuck me, fuck me any way you want," I said, feeling the straw against the side of my face, "but you ain't gonna kiss me. I only kiss people I like."
"Little bitch!" he snorted against the side of my face, but he quit trying to kiss my lips. One hand left my knocker, began tugging my dress higher around my hips. As I raised my butt and tugged it up so that it was around my waist, he panted, "You're a bitch right straight out of hell!"
"With a pussy right straight from heaven," I said, gloating because the old bastard was hooked like a catfish. When I got through with him, I told myself, he'd sure enough never forget it. He'd have a craving for my pussy that would stick to him like his own skin. He'd come crawling and begging for it, for just a quick piece, for just a look, a feel, a sniff of my cunt.
And this was the last time he was going to get it.
I stroked his naked back with my fingers, just fluttering them across the tight muscles until I had teased my way down to the small of his back, and I felt him put one hand on my cunt. He rubbed the lips of it, slipped a finger in, opening them, and his mouth leaped down and sucked at my knocker. The nipple went hard inside his mouth.
I moved one hand around between our bodies and got it around my jug, holding it like I was nursing a baby. While he sucked at the big nipple, sort of chewing it with his lips, I swung my hips up under him, so that my cunt was raised and ready. He fingered it just a second or two longer, then put his hand under my ass. His pecker touched the other side of my bare rump.