"It's that good, eh?"
"Man, you know it!"
Each time he stroked the flaring bud of her tiny clitoris, Olive pulled on his buttocks and moaned with pleasure. Her insides kept gushing as though Pete had tapped some endless spring. The weight of the man and the driving huge cock of him was by far the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. He seemed to ignite every pore of her body with each thrust of that slickened cock, turning her into a being that was totally loved. She had enjoyed herself with Cathy, but it was only a lark compared to this. This was the real thing. This was where it was at. All of it. Pete was like a girl's dream come true-an incestuous dream of coupling with the father.
And she compared Pete to her father, almost subliminally. For she had thought of how it would be to fuck her own father. In her private thoughts sometimes. Nothing she would ever discuss with anyone or admit to herself out loud. Yet it was true. After her first brushes with sex, and her first experiences she had imagined how it would be to sleep like a lover with her father. And now it was happening to her-almost. She had had sex with Cathy and now with Cathy's father. It was a delicious connection. When she closed her eyes real tight she could picture her own father atop her, driving his hard cock into her, wetting her pussy with the residue of love, pressing his weight on her body…
"Oooooh, man," she moaned again. "Give it to me, daddy," she exclaimed, despite herself.
Pete thrilled to her last utterance.
"Oh, daddy, oh daddy," Olive moaned over and over. It had sounded good to her too and she kept saying it. "Give it to me, daddy, give it all to me."
"Yes, Olive, yes!" Pete whispered hoarsely.
"Oh dear God, give me that big cock of yours, daddy."
It was almost out in the open. Both of them knew what was happening. Latent desires had flared to the surface in their lovemaking. Pete's desire for his own daughter was satisfied by proxy as was Olive's lust for her own father. Now they slammed their bodies at each other with renewed fervor as these long buried wishes rose to the surface of their brains. Pete drove his cock between Olive's legs with a picture of Cathy in his mind, his own daughter!
Olive made her body into a cradle of lust to receive her own father's thrusting cock, her father's face dancing before her mind's eye. In the dark of the cabin, in the midst of the raging storm outside, they were father and daughter committing incest. They were happy and they transmitted this happiness to each other through the coupling of their bodies.
Pete became more tender with Olive and the sex with her took on new meaning. Olive kept moaning over and over, "My daddy, my sweet daddy, give me more of your cock," and when Pete did so, Olive gushed with mind-blowing orgasm.
To save himself, Pete pulled his cock from her slavering slit and gave it some air. Then he would put the head of it against her sweating crevice and tease her with it. Olive hunched her cunt up to meet him, trying to screw him inside her, back inside her where she thrilled to his filling organ. He tantalized her in this way and she quivered up against his cock, sometimes taking the head just inside the lips and trying to suck the rest of him in. He began describing circles around her steeping slit, teasing her, and she moaned and threw her hips from side to side trying to capture that sausage of pleasure.
It became a pleasant game for both of them. "Oh, daddy, how you tease me," she laughed, still consumed with desire for his cock to invade her, she scrooched her buttocks around on the bunk trying to ensnare him. There was nothing in the world like the feeling she had now. She felt totally loved and she was enjoying sex without fear of any discovery or consequences-physical or mental.
"You're very sweet, Olive," he said to her during this game. "You're my baby."
"Oh, man, you know I dig you."
He looked down at her loins, then; the way she sucked her belly in made her cunt into a rising promontory. He watched his cock as it slid in the slit and reveled in this picture. Olive looked down too, because Pete was high over her as though at the rise of a pushup and when she saw and felt his huge cock slither into her she came for the hundredth time. She reached down and put her hand around his cock. As it slipped in and out of her she squeezed it.
"That's good, Olive," he told her. "I'm going to come now."
"I want it inside me," she breathed.
"No. You'll get knocked up."
"I don't care. I want it inside me, man."
"You're crazy," he laughed.
"Please," she begged.
"Hey, don't think I wouldn't want to. But it would foul things up, kid."
Olive thrust herself up, then, burying his cock in her soaked pussy. Her eyes blazed with determination.
"Jesus," Pete muttered.
"Oh fuck me, daddy, fuck me," she said, her hips bouncing up and down on the bunk.
"Olive-don't," he protested.
But he was caught up in her passion. Despite himself, he increased the rhythm of his fucking, sinking his cock deep deep inside the teenager. Olive held him tightly in her arms, her hands pressing and pulling on his buttocks as though to shove him deeper inside her.
Pete thought of what might happen if Olive became pregnant and tried to free himself even as the hot sperm threatened to burst from its chalice of flesh.
"No, Olive, no," he said. "I can't do it to you."
"Give it to me, daddy, give it to me. Keep fucking me and give me all your come."
And he wanted to, he wanted to. Never in his life had he felt as he did now. He knew what he should do, now, before he had shot his sperm up into her womb. He knew what he should do, but he kept fucking her, caught up in the pleasure her young body gave him.
Then he knew he had to get out.
He tried to pull his cock out of her sheath, but she held him in.
"Now!" she whispered.
"Goddamn! "
And it was too late.
He felt the sperm gush from the head of his cock and mingle with her juices.
"Oh, thank you, daddy, thank you," Olive kept moaning. "Oh, God, thank you."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jim hardly knew what was happening to him. It was unbelievable. And yet it was happening. He felt his blood run chill.
"Just relax, Jim," his wife said.
"That's right, Jim. relax," said Bunny Lonsdale in throaty tones.
Relax?
His whole body was like a stretched rubber band. A spring coiled to the limit of its endurance. What did they mean relax? What were they doing to him?
Darlene nearly smothered him with her breasts and was holding him down, flat on his back, by the shoulders. Below, where he couldn't see her, Bunny was doing something to his shorts. He could feel it! She was unsnapping the top button! She was pulling the zipper down! Good lord, could this be happening to him?
It was happening to him.
Darlene was stark naked, her body thrown across his chest, her breasts hanging down into his face. God, he must have dozed off. He could hear the storm all over again. It sounded worse now than it had the day before. Every once in a while he could see out and determined that they were still in the adobe. Where was Pete? Lord, what the devil was all this?
He felt his shorts being pulled down and he instinctively cringed. That had to be Bunny doing that to him, he knew. And he thought that she, also, was naked. What the hell…? He must have slept, but for how long? He had no way of knowing. But what a way to wake up. He tried to hold his feet down when Bunny got the shorts that far, but she hoisted his legs up and off they came, Next, she tugged on his underwear.
Jim cringed. Darlene laughed and Bunny echoed her.
Jim was puzzled. Just the two of them. And him. Pete was gone. That's right. He remembered now. Pete had gone somewhere after breakfast. If only I hadn't kept drinking beer, Jim thought. And then I must have fallen asleep. But Bunny and Darlene doing this to me! They must be drunk or something. They had to be drunk!