She was different, thought Sam as he watched Wendy step from the administration building and walk toward the car. Her breasts and hips were fuller, and her ass – God! He saw only a glimpse as she turned to wave goodbye, but there was enough back there to make almost two of the one he'd watched being led from the juvenile courtroom. And there was something more, something in the way she moved that suggested the little girl, his daughter, was gone, left behind with the year she'd spent within the red brick walls.
Leaning across the front seat, he opened the door. "Hi baby," he said.
"Daddy." The miniskirt rode high as she slipped onto the leather of the car seat. She met his gaze and smiled.
Sam had to shake himself loose from the bold green eyes; had to remind himself that the girl with the long, creamy legs and big tits – tits that rose and fell teasingly beneath the tight red dress – was the same child he used to tell bedtime stories to. He searched his mind for something to say, but he could think of nothing.
Wendy laughed, a throaty, provocative woman sound. She turned sideways, bringing one knee up, displaying the tops of her stockings, garter clasps, and panties. She cocked her head, and asked, "Aren't you glad to see me?"
"Of course I'm glad." The guilt he'd felt every weekend when Cynthia talked him out of visiting, saying that the girl had to be taught a lesson, now returned. "I… I would've come up every week, but you know your mother. She's even worse now. I couldn't even get her to come along today." He tried not to look at the place Wendy was doing her damndest to show, but his gaze drifted. And at the legband of the black panties, curling out along her smooth inner thigh, he saw hair so red and appealing that his cock stirred. "Did you, ah… do you have any luggage?" he added, needing something to say.
"Uh-uh. I gave it all away." She pointed back over her shoulder, to where a group of girls were clustered at a dorm window.
He reached for the ignition key, wanting to get away from the place. It made him uneasy; it made him remember Lew Ogden and why Wendy had been sent there.
"Kiss me hello first, Daddy." Before he could start the car, she moved close, almost in his lap. "I missed you so." She wrapped her small arms tightly around his neck, and offered him her moist, pink lips.
Sam tried to back away from the sweet mouth clinging to his, but Wendy held fast. He felt her firm breasts digging into his chest; felt the warmth of one nylon-clad thigh against his. She had indeed changed; she had become a small, lovely temptress. He'd always doubted the story Lew Ogden had told; he thought he knew Wendy better than most parents know their children. But now he wasn't sure. He was sure only that what he was thinking, the suggestions the heated kiss formed in his mind, had no place in a father-daughter relationship.
"Hey Wendy," called a girl from the dorm. "Gimme some of that, will ya?"
"Yeah!" shouted another. "I'll bet he's got one a foot long inside those pants."
Blanching, Sam pushed his daughter roughly away. "Don't pay them any mind, Daddy," she cooed. "They're just jealous because you're mine."
Sam gaped. What was she saying? Hers? Hers in what way? He wanted to slap her, to beat her, to make her stop acting as if he were her lover instead of her father. Angry with himself for having a hardon, and with her for changing, for growing up, for being a woman with red hair on her pussy at fourteen – he turned the ignition key, released the brake, and slammed the gas pedal to the floor.
From the corner of his eye he saw the hem of her dress hitch up as she turned in the seat to wave to the girls in the dorm. Or had she turned to show him the twin halves of her ass? Whichever, he stared longingly at the plump melons, thinking how, lovely they were, how white beneath the semi-transparent black panties.
He paced, wondering where she could be at one in the morning, what she was doing. The rules of parole included a 10:00 p.m. curfew, and already, on her first night home, she was jeopardizing her freedom. He thought back to the scene in the car, and how brazen she was. He could still see the red hair at her crotch, feel her tits, the nipples like hard little spikes digging into his chest. He thought back even further, to the first time he saw her naked in the shower before she was sent to the home. He recalled how the blood leaped into her face, how she gasped, "Don't look at me, Daddy. Don't!" Now he was willing to bet a year's pay she'd open her legs and spread the lips of her cunt if he caught her that way.
He paused in his tour of the living room to look in on Cynthia. She was asleep on her side, her nightgown pulled tight across her round ass. He groaned. It was a good ass; the kind of an ass that could keep a man's dick hard for hours. He wanted it now. But it was Wednesday, two days from Friday – the one night a week she opened her legs for him.
Outside a car screeched up to the curb. He strode to the front window, and squinted into the dark at the two figures huddled behind the wheel. She was a hot little bitch, he thought, watching the girl kiss her date as she'd kissed him at the home the morning before. Where were the boy's hands? he wondered. Under her dress? Was he, at that very moment, twisting a finger up her hot, red pussy? Or was he kneading her tits, coaxing the pink nipples hard, planning to fuck her right there in front of the house?
The mere thought of a boy – any boy – parting those lovely red curls with a stiff cock, holding the tender globes of her ass while they screwed, made him furious. He moved to the door, threw it open, and shouted her name. His breath came in gasps, and the muscles went taut in his arms. He waited for her to emerge from the car, and say good night. Then he called her again, ordering her into the house.
The sound of the door closing came with the crack of his open hand against the side of her face. She gaped at him. "What were you doing out there?" he demanded.
"Nothing. I… I…"
Again he slapped her, harder. He could see what they'd been up to: her long red hair was mussed, and there was a smear of ground-in dirt on the wrinkled material over her jutting left breast. "Fucking whore!" he heard himself growl. "Cockteasing bitch! I'll teach you to screw. I'll…"
Suddenly the girl was in his arms, sobbing, holding tight to him. "Don't hurt me any more, Daddy," she whispered. "I-I can't help it. I can't! I… I have to have sex, have to fuck. I can't stand being near a hard dick without having it in me."
"My God!" Sam felt her small, round belly pressing against him, felt her tits, her thighs. It was insane: he wanted to choke her to stop the words, and stop her warm body from doing the things a daughter had no business doing with her father. But now his prick was hard, the glans throbbing at the tip between her trim legs. And her sobbing, her helplessness, was making him forget who she was.
"They… they did the most awful things to me at the home," whispered Wendy. She raised up on tiptoe, moist lips kissing his neck as she spoke. Her hips began to move in a slow, maddening circle. "Doctor Bruce, the matrons, the older girls, everyone," she continued. "They… they fucked me every which way, Daddy. I didn't want to. I didn't! But it was just like with Lew. They were stronger than me, and they hurt me sometimes, and you and Mummy never came up, and…" Her voice broke. The tears poured hot down her cheeks onto his neck and shoulders.
Sam glanced past her, to the dark open door of the master bedroom. He could see Cynthia – her white nightgown was a billowy blur against the turned down blanket. It was Cynthia who had kept him from visiting Wendy, and she who had given him the hardon before turning away for the night. The whole thing was her fault: he couldn't blame the tiny warm thing in his arms, so soft and vulnerable. Nor could he resist the red pussy – he had only to close his eyes to see the springy curls pressing, pressing, pressing so insistently into the knob of his bloated cock. "Don't cry, honey," he said, chest tight, hands moving to her tiny waist, then lower, molding the mini dress to her firm buttocks. "Tell Daddy about it, sweetheart. Tell me what they did to you at the awful place."
Wendy's lips touched his ear. The cheeks of her ass quivered in the palms of his hands. "Not here, Daddy," she cooed. "In… in my bedroom. First let me get pretty for you."
She could barely breathe. Her hands trembled uncontrollably as she stripped, and went to the dresser to don the sexy black negligee she'd bought that afternoon – especially for her handsome daddy! She wanted him so; it was what she had dreamt about every night after the girls at the home had introduced her to all the variations of lesbianism, and what she'd fantasized on each time Doctor Bruce stuck his fat dick up into her belly. Her daddy! She had long since stopped telling herself it was wrong.
Using the perfume she'd snitched from the endless supply on the dresser in the master bedroom, she sweetened the smell of her pussy, sprinkled some on her breasts, too. Her nipples stood rigid, and she shivered at the thought of the tall, well-built man waiting in the living room, waiting for her to call to say she was ready to take his big prick up her tiny wet cunthole, perhaps in the ass, anywhere he wanted to put it.
Slipping the gauze on over her head, she shook out her hair and eyed the result in the mirror. The hem of the lace nightie barely covered the cute wedge of cunt hair between her anxious thighs. The soft light from the lamp on the bedside table outlined her figure. Everything showed, but just enough to make a man want to see more.
Turning, she paused to stare speculatively at the wind-up belly dancer on the nightstand. She remembered the first time with Doctor Bruce, and how she'd thought of the toy. "You watch me go now," she told it. "Just watch my hips dance when Daddy puts his hard dick up…" her fingers went beneath the hem of the new garment, to the mouth of her pussy, "up there!"
Sam gulped his third drink, welcoming the warmth at the pit of his belly, the fuzz in his head. It was madness! He was waiting, actually waiting for his own little girl to say she was ready to screw. "I should break her sweet fucking neck!" he growled, slamming the glass down, nervously pouring another drink. "I should put my belt to her ass and stop this whole fucking thing, before…"
"Daddy…?"
He turned to find the girl standing near-naked at her open bedroom door. No! a voice inside his spinning head shouted. He gulped the fourth drink – wanting her, not wanting her, the liquor distorting the painful knowledge of who she was. His dick pulsed, thrusting the front of his pants out farther than he had ever bulged before. His nuts grew as taut as the twin peaks showing through the flimsy veil-like thing she wore.
"Better close Mummy's door," said Wendy in a voice so low he had to strain to hear. "Hurry up, Daddy. Hurry!" She disappeared into the dimly-lit room.
As if in a trance, the four drinks clouding his mind, Sam moved to the door of the master bedroom… Cynthia had turned onto her belly, and the nightgown was bunched high on her thighs. From the door opposite the foot of the bed he could see the fleshy underside of her ass, the dark crack, and the black hair where her loose cunt was hidden. Would Wendy's pussy be loose or tight? he wondered. He knew he should feel indignation – no, murderous rage – because of what was done to the girl at the home. He could imagine the older girls taking advantage of her: two holding her legs wide apart, two more holding her arms, and another – one with a warped mind and a clit like a miniature hardon – bull-dyking her pussy. And the doctor – hadn't Wendy mentioned a doctor? He could imagine a gray-headed old man one who couldn't get laid on the outside, taking the post at the institution for the sole purpose of ripping off lovely young girls like his Wendy.
"Wendy," he groaned, unconsciously rubbing the front of his pants, excited instead of enraged. "Sweet baby, Wendy."
His gaze swept across the gleaming contours of Cynthia's ass, his cock jerking. It was a good ass, true. But there was another – a more succulent, softer and whiter bottom – waiting to relieve his stiff cock mere footsteps away. Quickly he closed the door and strode to his daughter's room.
She was sitting at the edge of the bed, watching the toy belly dancer he'd given her ten years before on her birthday. She saw him. For a moment they stared, gazes locking, communicating with their eyes. Then she raised one adorable leg, slowly and provocatively, inch by inch spreading her thighs to show the red hair on her little-girl pussy. Her gaze dropped to the front of his pants. "Fuck me, Daddy," she cooed, raising her arms to him. "The boy tonight – he didn't do anything except feel. I'm so hot. I… lookit the bulge in your pants! It's so big… Stick it up me, Daddy. Please. Fuck it up my belly."
It was as if he'd been hit across the back of the head with a 2 by 4. The rage came. Forgetting the ache at his crotch, the stiffness of his prick, he undid his belt buckled and whipped the belt from his waist. "I'm your father!" he snapped in a voice full of gravel. "Goddamn you, Wendy, don't you know I'm your own fucking FATHER?"
Her green eyes almost popped from their sockets as he took hold of her hair, threw her down on the mattress, the skimpy negligee askew, and lashed out with the belt.
"Oh! Oh Daddy, no, no!" Wendy tried to escape by crawling across the rumpled bedding. The leather smacked her bare bottom. "Ow, ow! Oh my God, Daddy, no more! No more please, Daddy – I'll be good, I promise!"
Again and again he brought the belt down, ignoring her entreaties, until sweat poured from his brow, and Wendy lay curled and whimpering – a small, frightened child. Her ass was bright pink, and the stiffness in his pants leg overruled conscience. He fell to the bed, hands moving… hungrily over the welted halves of her burning behind.
"Daddy. Oh, put it in. P-Put it all the way up me." She reached back to take firm hold of the mighty shaft at his crotch.
Sam stopped her from rolling onto her back. He didn't want her that way; he didn't want to have to look in her eyes, to be reminded of who she was. "Stay on your belly," he ordered, fingers deep in the hot crack of her ass. "I wanna fuck you in back, up your asshole."
"Anything, Daddy. Only do it. Quick!" Her asshole opened and closed on his long middle finger, the tightness sucking him in. Her thighs shot wide apart, and small, anxious fingers undid his fly.
"Oh Christ! Christ-fucking Jesus and Mary!" Sam humped his meat into her hand, afraid he'd pop off before he was sheathed in her, but unable to resist the tiny, expert fingers. And her rear hole! God, God, her sweet little-girl asshole! It was the tightest, the hottest, the best – an adorably fuckable hole he didn't think he'd ever be able to get his huge cock into.
Wendy yelped in protest when the dart popped from her ass. He quickly covered the fragrant brown hole with his mouth. She squealed, and he blew into it, making her squirm and moan. Drinking the smell into his nostrils, he spread her pink cunt lips and watched both holes quiver. The hand on his rod began to jerk faster, faster and faster, until the cream began to inch up from his balls and he stopped her. She whispered to him: Daddy! Daddy! She opened her legs even wider, raising up off the bed, her buttocks split delightfully down the middle.
He was mildly drunk from the liquor, but more so with the sight of her. He didn't care any more that the succulent ass belonged to his daughter, and that if he were caught, if Cynthia awoke and found them together, what he was about to do could land him in jail. He didn't care about conscience or morals, or about incest. Now he cared only about the brown hole – the pleasure others had taken from the tight, winking anus waiting to open and close like a clam on his cock.
"Daddy please!" Wendy reached back to spread the tender halves of her bottom.
"Easy, baby, sweetheart." He stood, tore the pants and shorts from his legs, and threw off his shirt. For a moment more he stared down at the twin silky mounds, savoring the whiteness, the welts, the dimples in each cheek. The tuft of red hair at the winking target made him groan. He squeezed the tip of his cock, anticipating, prolonging the thrill of first penetration. She was perfection, his Wendy: lovely beyond belief, young, wild and willing. He fell hungrily upon her.
"Daddy, oh Daddy!!" She strained to accommodate the fat cockhead boring into her pinched asshole.
"Um. Tell me about what they did to you at the home, honey. About the fucking. Tell me while… sh! Ahhhh!" The knob of his rod slipped slowly in past her sphincter. "Jesus, baby, you're good. So fucking good. Tell… sh! Ummmmmmmmmm! Tell Daddy everything while we screw."
Greedily she pressed back. "D-Don't make me tell now, Daddy. Do me back there first."
"Now!" Lifting the negligee high on her back, he reached around and under to take hold of her tits. Cruelly he kneaded them.
"Oh. OH! You… you're hurting me, Daddy."
"Then tell me!" he insisted, making her whimper. The small deep-throated sounds spurred him on. He used his fingernails on her pert nipples. He wanted to hear to know everything.
"D-D-Doctor Bruce first," the girl gasped. "The first day I was there. The… ok!" She tried to squirm away from the talons cutting into her breasts. "Don't hurt me any more, Daddy. I… I love you so."
Burying his face in the girl's long, fresh-smelling hair, he bit her earlobe. He let his dick bask at the entrance to her hot rectum. He closed his eyes, envisioning another stiff rod, the doctor's long, veiny prick, grinding into her round belly. This wasn't his Wendy, his daughter. This was a warm, faceless body he could abuse without qualms. "Did he fuck you?" he grunted, embedding another hard inch in her asshole. "The doctor? Did he cum in your cunthole?"
Despite the protests, the moans, the objections, she wiggled for more meat up her hole. "He… first he made me suck him," she said, her hips gyrating faster than the toy belly dancer winding out on the nightstand. "Then he did me… over the edge of the couch. He… he made me kneel with my head on the leather, and came up behind. Just like you're doing now, Daddy. Only in front. He… he put his big veiny thing up me…" she guided one hand from her breasts to her wet pussy, "up there! All… oh! All the way up me! I… I thought it would never go. Never! I told him to stop, but he kept saying I'd better be nice to him or I'd never go home, and I didn't care that it hurt something awful. I… I helped him, three times a week after that. Until it got so I didn't really mind any more. Until… oh! Oh Daddy, push it all the way in." She pressed back so hard that she farted: a muted sound, subdued by the awesome length of his giant prick plowing home.
"Baby! Sugar! Sweetheart!" Sam could almost see the old horny doctor. Inside his head, there was a man with a stethoscope fucking a dick up the protesting girl, driving meat into her twat, just as he was driving it up her tight little asshole. He fingered her vulva, moving his palm round and round on the tight, springy curls. He grunted into her ear with each lunge, until his coarse cockhair was flush with the cheeks of her bottom. Then he sighed, soaking in her sweet warmth.
Wendy looked back at him with heavy, lidded green eyes, "You're bigger than Doctor Bruce, Daddy. You're even bigger than the Coke bottles we used."
Sam blinked. "What Coke bottles?"
"Um!" She moved her small ass slowly from side to side, caressing the glans of his joint with the feathery muscles deep in her rectum. "That's what the girls use. Bottles and broomsticks. And sometimes, whenever the matrons forget to chop them up, bananas and hot dogs from the mess hall."
"Jesus H. Fucking Christ!" He was at once appalled and fascinated. He turned onto his side, taking her with him. "Bottles and broomsticks and…?"
She nodded, chewing her lip. Her eyes glazed over as if she were remembering, as if he were one of the girls, fucking an ersatz member up her rear hole. "They… they did all sorts of strange things," she continued, barely above a whisper. "One girl, the blonde who called from the window, used to turn the bed upside down and sit and fuck on the leg. But the worst was Crazy Inez." Her asshole tightened. She stared wide-eyed back at him.
What in the world could it be? wondered Sam. What was left? He thought he knew everything there was to know about screwing, but this…? Hugging her close, three fingers deep in her pussy and the other hand kneading her tits, he prompted her answer by expanding and contracting the stiff prick inside her.
"She… oh Daddy, they caught her out on the farm with one of the pigs. She was sucking him off."
"A p-pig?"
"It was only a little pig, though. Plus she had him tied down." She stared a moment more, then grinned and then giggled. "Oink-oink!" she added.
Sam couldn't help but love her. Even though what they were doing was wrong – sinful by every civilized standard – she was so tiny and sweet, her girlish innocence intact despite what she'd been through. There was a wanton flame in her emerald eyes, and yet she was new and virginal still, a delightful woman-child. He kissed her neck, and her flushed and sweating face. "Did they fuck a bottle up here?" he asked, pulling back and slamming it to her again.
"A m-mop handle!" she gasped, setting her ass in motion once more. "A long one, Daddy. Long and fat. Like… just like yours."
Sam groaned into her moist, pink mouth. He tongue-kissed her, mashing her lips so cruelly she cried out. But it was a pleasure sound, a demand. The time for talking was past – it was time to screw. He told her so by withdrawing until his rod almost popped from its sheath, and then reaming back with such force the bed shook.
Wendy complied with the silent command. She threw herself back into his lunges, hips churning, buttocks grinding together. Her wet cunthole nipped at his fingers. He was hurting her, he knew, fucking into her rectum with all the strength in his loins. Yet the muffled noises she made were sounds of delight. And the harder he stroked and pinched her nipples, and taunted her clit, the more willingly she met his forward lunges. It was almost as if she enjoyed being abused, used. Almost as if the time she'd spent at the home, the things Doctor Bruce and the others had done to her, had conditioned her compliant young body to accept pain.
Suddenly the room became a top spinning off into orbit. The velvety pocket of her asshole clutched his joint doing things no fourteen-year-old asshole should know how to do, and reached down into his lower abdomen to yank the cum from his sacs. He tried to pull back for one final lunge, but she held him in her. Inside, at the top of her little-girl rectum greedy fingers seemed to close tight. Invisible mouths as sweet as the one he was sucking, rained fiery kisses over the swollen glans of his rod, coaxing cum, milking him, demanding gob after gob after gob.
Sam squeezed her so tight he was afraid something might break. But he couldn't stop. His prick went on spitting, spurt after spurt leaping up from his balls. It was so good he didn't care if it went on forever, depleting him, making him waste away. His cream filled her bowels, and began to seep down and out. It grew thick in his cockhair, saturating her pussy. It dripped down the back of her thighs onto the sheet. Yet her buttocks, her magnificent little-girl ass, refused to relinquish the prize of his prick.
Finally, when he thought his lungs would never again be allowed to suck air, the tightness went slack, freeing him to pull out. But now the cunthole biting his fingers began to spew juice into the palm of his hand.
"Do it, Daddy," Wendy moaned wetly into his mouth. "Oh, do it! Do it!"
He was helpless, lost. She was too good, he realized, slipping the cylinder of his cock from between her quivering buttocks, withdrawing his fingers. She was so good he didn't have to tell her to take hold of his cock, and set the round, slimy knob at her cunthole.
"Don't stop, Daddy," she breathed against his lips. "Come in in front too. Fuck my pussy."
There was no way to stop, even if he had wanted to. Already her pussy was sucking him in, pulling his cock high up into her belly. He felt the red curls part, tickling his shaft; he felt the slippery walls, of her upper vagina open as he advanced, and knew that Wendy, his little Wendy, had learned more than was good for her in the year since Lew and Penny Ogden had gotten her sent away.
"That's it, Daddy, oh yes, that's the way, stick that big, wet stick of yours deep inside your daughter's pussy… mmmm, right up to my womb!"
"I'll try… God, I don't know how I can let myself do this to you, my baby, but at the same time I don't know how I can stop myself…"
"That's right… that's right, little Wendy's pussy is too much to resist… too much!"
"Oh Christ, it is! It is! I can't resist… I've got to fuck you again, Goddammit!"
"Do it to me, do it to me! Fuck me good and proper, Daddy dear! Stab me with your beautiful, big, hard, wet, gorgeous stick! All the way now! All the way! Ahhhhhh! Do it, do it, in, tight, hard!"
He forced his prick into her cunt, against the sticky obstruction of her cunt walls, in, deeper and deeper, with a liquid accompaniment, the sound of his juice and her sticky love nectar.
"That's the way, Daddy, right inside… all the way, to the hilt!" He slammed inward, right up to the base of his prick, filling her cunt with his organ. Then he began to pump, back and forth, in and out.
"Yes, yes," she whimpered. "Faster, faster! Oh, do it! Fuck me, fuck me! Ohhhhhh!"
"Shut up, you crazy, sex fiend! You bitch! I don't know how I could let myself do this… it's so degrading! It is, it is!"
"Oh, be quiet, you old fool! You know you love every fucking minute of it! You know it!"
"Yes… yes," he whimpered. "I do… it's terrible, it's ugly, but I do! I do!"
He whipped his prick back out to the head and then stayed poised there for one long, ecstatic moment, till they were both writhing maniacally. And then he let out the breath he was holding and took another one. Then it was time to go back inside, and go he did, slamming every rigid inch back through the portals of her pussy, in, tight and hard, so hard that they both gasped from the exertion.
In and out, back and forth, it went on till his cock gave its expected burst of cream, deep inside her, flowing out and over their heated loins.