Pretty little Marsha Brennan cowered under the covers as she heard the front door open and close. From the sounds in the other room, she knew her father was drunk again. She heard bumps and scrapes and something fell to the floor. She heard her father curse. Marsha dreaded these sounds in the night, sounds any other teenaged girl would pay little attention to. She drew the blankets tighter around her neck and shuddered. Odd feelings coursed through her body. The cold fear, the shortness of breath, the mounting dread, these she could understand. It was the other feelings she couldn't grasp – the tickle deep in her belly, the funny feeling in her cunt and the tingling of the pink nipples on her jutting tits.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth and shut her eyes tightly. Please God, she prayed, silently, don't let him come in here again. Please let him pass out.
She heard footsteps approaching her bedroom. Her heart beat wildly behind her rising and falling tits. Panic seized her and she squeezed her thighs together. But the pressure against her pussy created sizzling feelings and she quickly let her legs fall open, again.
The footsteps stopped, turned around, and went away. Her father was returning to the living room. Marsha stuffed the blanket in her mouth to keep from sobbing aloud. She was so scared, so deathly afraid of her father. Tears welled in her eyes and she rubbed her fists into them.
Her mother would have chided her for that and she knew it. "Don't do that, darling," her mom would have said. "You'll make your eyes all red."
A shudder ran through Marsha's body and she sniffled. She could almost hear her mother's loving words and for a second she imagined that her morn was still alive.
She missed her mother terribly and as she thought of her, new tears came to her eyes. Why did she have to die? Marsha cried to herself. It's not fair. She was so kind and good. Why does God let all the bad people live while good ones like her mother had to die? I need you, Mom, she said in her mind, I need you so much!
But her mother was gone and Marsha was utterly alone, stuck with a drunken, brutal father and a brother who was twenty years old and also drank too much.
Marsha's ears perked up. She could hear no sounds in the living room – or anywhere. She relaxed her grip on the comforting blankets and heaved a sigh of relief. Her reined tits quivered.
Maybe he passed out, she thought with hope. Maybe he's too drunk to come in here tonight. She held on to that thought like a child holds on to her teddy bear. He's drunk! He fell asleep on the sofa, or on the floor. He'll just lie there until Ernie gets home.
She looked at the small clock on her nightstand and figured the time. It was late and Ernie would be home soon, even if he stopped for a few drinks. His shift at the factory in town was over at ten. He'd come home and find their dad lying there drunk. He'd start razzing him and he'd wake up and be angry. Then they'd go into the kitchen and there'd be more drinking until they both fell down drunk.
Marsha closed her eyes and tried to think about sex. That was better. She liked to daydream about sex, because that meant she could feel good about herself. Her hands slipped under the covers and she shivered a little. She knew how to banish the horrible thoughts of her lecherous father from her mind. She simply had to stop thinking about him.
Every time she remembered what he had done to her she felt weak and lost, terribly alone. She would have to forget what he had done. It was the only way she could find peace within herself. She had to pretend that nothing absolutely nothing – had happened!
Marsha escaped into her private world of pleasurable sex. She smoothed her hands over her quivering tits lightly and sighed. She felt her nipples harden and push out against her hands and she caressed them tenderly. It felt nice.
"Ohhh," she moaned softly and pushed her tits upward against her moving palms. Her fingers touched and danced around, her swollen nipples and bet whole body trembled.
"Mmmm," she murmured, slipping her hands below her thrusting tits. She smoothed her hands slowly ova her rippling flesh. She liked to feel her own soft skin, so velvety to her touch. The tips of her fingers touched the mound of her pussy and a deeper sigh made her tits rise and fall quickly.
She quivered as her fingers rubbed into her pussy-hair. Her legs parted and her fingers smoothed downward between them to her silky cunt. Her fingers trembled slightly as she parted the soft lips, of her pussy and began to rub her delicate, sensitive clit. That was marvelous.
She shuddered with pure pleasure as her hands moved between her thighs and her fingers slid up and down along her cunt-slit. Her sighs increased in number as her naughty fingers slipped sexily over her tender, pink pussy-flesh. Sex sure was nice this way, she thought dreamily.
Little quivers of excitement started to ripple through her straining body each time her fingers contacted the sensitive spot at the top of her cunt-slit. Marsha sighed deeply and let her fingers press and squeeze her stiff little clit.
Mmmm, she thought, why can't it always be like this? Why does my dad have to get drunk and…
She pushed the memory of her father out of her private world of pleasurable sex and quickly resumed her juicy thoughts by working her fingers ever faster along her pussy-channel and clit.
To concentrate on what she wanted most, she pulled her quivery cunt-lips apart and tipped her hips up. The tip of a forefinger diddled her clit and twirled it around. She knew instinctively that the feelings would be even better if she got a finger up into her horny little fuck-hole. That would be exciting.
Her breath caught in her throat and her face reddened with increased passion just imagining her finger drilling into her pussy. She wiggled her cute little ass on the bed and worked her cunt into a better position. She knew exactly what she wanted and it had nothing to do with her raunchy father. She wanted to shove something stiff up her cunt-channel. She wanted to be fucked by something that felt like a prick – a nice prick.
Marsha stretched her legs wide. With one hand she held her pussy-lips open and the other flew down to her crotch. She pushed her slim finger in the tightly clenching pink hole of her cunt.
"Oh!" she gasped as her long finger invaded her pussy. It was marvelous! It felt so good. But one finger wasn't enough to satisfy her sudden hunger for cock. She needed more, more than one finger to make it feel like a prick.
She groaned hotly and her ass came up off the bed as she eased another finger into the warm wetness of her squirming cunt. That was good! A gasp of delight escaped her constricted throat as she drilled her two fingers in and out of her pussy. The two fingers together were just right for her and felt like the right thickness.
Her eyes closed in rapture as she worked her fingers swiftly in and out of her churning cunt. The thrills got sharper and sharper and that familiar tickle deep in her heaving belly grew more furious. She was steamy with sexy heat as she fingerfucked herself. Her legs flailed beneath the covers and her cute ass wiggled all around on the bed.
She wanted the blinding, flashing streaks of joy to continue as they were. But they got stronger and stronger until she could stand it no longer. Suddenly she jerked in her bed and her body whipped around. She rolled onto her side and drew her legs up tightly, stuffing her fingers into her juicy pussy. She bit her lower lip and moaned hornily as her ass humped furiously and her pussy creamed with spasms.
She felt her passion rise to that blinding peak again and again until she was weak and panting helplessly, thoroughly drained of pussy-cream. Hot, silky fluids oozed out of her cunt-channel and drenched her trembling fingers. Some juice seeped out and trickled down her curves to her asshole and thigh. It felt warm and safe.
She eased her soaked fingers out of her pussy and they found their way to her mouth as she lay panting for breath. Her ripe lips parted and she took her fingers into her mouth and licked at them sensuously as her hips writhed with the afterglow of pleasure. She remained in that position for a long time, breathing and sucking her fingers.
Afterwards, she rolled onto her back and stretched her long, lithe legs out under the blankets. She heaved a sigh that made her hardened tits rise and fall like two pyramids under the sheets. She felt good.
Once again the pleasurable feelings in her cummy cunt made her wish for things she didn't have – like a normal sex life. She almost wept with the pain of her sexy wishes. If only she could be like other girls, girls who had regular home lives, normal parents and could go out to get fucked in Lovers Lane. She wished she could be like those girls who had boyfriends, boys with nice stiff cocks who loved their girlfriends.
Marsha was not allowed to date boys. Her father was absolutely brutal about the way he threatened to punish her if he ever caught her with a boy. Punks, he called them, and he warned her often that if she ever gave her sweet pussy to a boy, he'd punish her by shoving his enormous prick up her virgin asshole! And Marsha had no doubt that he would do that to her. All she had to do was look at the immense size of his cock while he spoke and she knew he would carry out the threat.
A sound suddenly startled her out of her thoughts and dreams. Her eyes snapped open and her tits rose up. She felt like a trapped animal, wishing for someplace to hide as she pulled the covers up to her chin. She lay there cowering and shivering, her blue eyes bright with fear.
The door swung open and her father stood there, eyeing her. Marsha saw him weave slightly and he coughed. She could smell his boozy breath clear across the room.
Inwardly, she prayed frantically. Please, God, please don't let him! Not again! Not tonight! Please, please, make him go away!
For a second or two her father just weaved in the doorway, adjusting his vision to the semi-darkness. Then he staggered forward and stumbled at the side of her bed. He said nothing. His mouth was slack and his dirty breath polluted the air around the girl. Marsha shuddered. His lewd white face looked like a cold mask of inhuman lust.
The first time he'd fucked her, everything had happened so suddenly, so quickly that she could hardly believe it was reality rather the one of her wicked fantasies. She had been in bed, sobbing pitifully. Her mother had been dead only six months and the hurt had still been intense. Her father had heard her crying and slipped into her room to comfort her.
He'd been drinking. Marsha could smell it on his breath when he sat down on her bed. She hated it when he drank. It frightened her – especially now that her mother was no longer around to protect her.
"What's the matter, honey?" he had asked softly. "You miss your ma?"
"Yes, yes," she had sobbed. "Why did she have to die?"
Her father had leaned over and pulled her into his arms. It was a warm evening and Marsha was wearing her lightest nightie. It had slid from her shoulders when her dad pulled her up to him. His big hand had covered one tit and he had petted and caressed it. Marsha shuddered at the memory.
"Don't, Daddy, don't," she had rasped.
But her father's whiskey breath had quickened. She could feel it hot against, the smooth, creamy flesh of her naked shoulder.
"You're all I have now, Marsha," he had said hotly, rubbing her tit. "And I need you, baby. Your mother would want us to be nice to each other, darling. She'd like that."
His sweaty palm had mashed her firm, round tit. His other hand crept up between her thighs, his fingers reaching for her cunt.
"No, Daddy, don't!" she'd sobbed. "I don't like that!"
"You'll learn to like it with me, baby. I won't hurt you. Would I hurt my own daughter?"
He had pressed her down on the bed and pushed his pants down. Marsha had been too shocked to scream when she felt the enormous size and wetness of his cock touch her legs. She still couldn't believe it was truly happening to her. She had still loved him then, and trusted him to be kind and caring. It had seemed impossible that her own father was mouthing her cute little ear, squeezing her sensitive tit, and rubbing her unprotected cunt.
Marsha knew something about sex. She had taken sex education in school. But she hadn't taken it too seriously. Sex education seemed to be something for her and her girlfriends to titter about. Sex seemed funny and, dumb when she read about it in the textbooks. But there had been nothing to titter about as her father mauled her defenseless body and prodded it with his huge, wet prick.
He had been very drunk and very horny at the time. He climbed between her trembling legs and drove his aching cock up into her pussy. Nothing she had ever read or heard prepared her for the quick, lewd attack of her fresh body. It was horrifying and the pain blinded her. She had screamed then and tried to push his heavy body from her, but he was too big and too hot to move.
He had settled all of his weight on her body and drilled every solid inch of his horny cock into her weak and helpless cunt-hole, ripping right through her cherry. At the last, Marsha had given up the struggle and gone lax under him as he fucked her brutally and savagely. She could only close her eyes and pray that he would soon finish with her and end her torment and pain.
As he plunged his powerful prick into her juicy little twat he had mauled her tits and asscheeks in ways that had horrified her. But worst of all had been the way he had slobbered drool all over her all through the entire fuck.
"My precious daughter. My baby. Now you stop that crying, Marsha," he had muttered drunkenly. "A big girl like you shouldn't cry about a little loving. That's what we're doing, honey, loving one another. I need you, and you need me. You're my big girl now. Just hang on to your dad. I'll make you feel real good."
The pain had been so extreme that Marsha never knew when he stopped screwing her pussy. All she knew was that at a certain point, her father grew outrageously violent and started fucking his stiff cock roughly in and out of her cunt. He had slammed it into her brutally and then groaned horribly and trembled violently as his big cock jerked and jolted within her cunt-walls. She had known what that meant as he shot his jism into her.
She couldn't tell when his cock stopped gushing in her body. All she had known was that he suddenly crawled off her bruised, aching body and staggered out of the room.
Marsha had put her hands down to her crotch to massage her hurt, and they came away all sticky with come and red with blood. Even though the pain subsided, there was a feeling that remained. A feeling of forbidden pleasure so strong and so overwhelming that she couldn't shake it. She had tried very hard to shut out the good feelings that had crept through her pussy and belly and tits. She didn't want something so horrible and evil to have any good to it. It just couldn't have any good parts!
Yet she had lain there, not crying any more, just touching her furry little cunt and writhing her hips slowly, examining the feelings. Then, when she heard her father snoring loudly, she had padded naked into the bathroom and tried to wash away his memory. But she couldn't. She was able to wash off the blood and the come, but her father's whiskey smell had stayed with her, along with the memory of his stiff cock deep in her pussy. Then her father met a slut in a bar, Blanche Abbott, and for a while Marsha's tender pussy got a rest. Ralph Brennan brought the whore home to live with him and every night Marsha would hear them fucking wildly in his bedroom. Curious, Marsha would often creep to the door and watch her father fuck the shit out of the drunken, moaning bitch. It sometimes made her sick to watch them snort and grovel and come so violently together, humping and screwing and panting like animals on the sweaty bed. Marsha would listen to their talk as they fucked. To hear the woman screaming for more cock in her asshole was simply disgusting. A week later her father told her to call Blanche her stepmother. She had refused at first but then her father pulled her over his knee and spanked her bare ass until he got so hot he had to fuck her cunt. After that, Marsha obeyed him and called the slut her stepmother, even though the bitch cursed like a truck driver and used filthy words when she was horny.
Blanche drank whiskey by the barrel, it seemed to Marsha, and she chain-smoked cigarettes. Burns began to appear on the coffee table, the kitchen counter and the bedside table. Blanche never cleaned house. She always demanded that Marsha earn her keep and Ralph backed her up. To anger Blanche was to lose his supply of mouth, cunt and ass. And when that happened, he would turn again to his helpless daughter. Marsha soon learned to please the old bitch.
The situation worked well until Ralph ran out of booze money. Then Blanche left him flat on his ass, dead drunk. In a stupor, stumbling around like a blind man, he attacked Marsha again and fucked her brutally, taking his anger and frustration out on her defenseless body. His stiff cock became a terrible weapon to the girl and she feared it more than anything else in the world.
Night after night the horror continued for Marsha until she was clit of her mind with fear and dread of sex. Why couldn't it be nice? she wondered, the way it was when she got herself off with her fingers? Why couldn't it be good like in her fantasies? Why couldn't it be sensuous like in her father's fuck books? Why couldn't it be beautiful, like in those dirty pictures?