Marsha despaired over ever getting away from her father's incredible, rutting lust. She didn't know that fate was coming to her aid in her time of need.
When she emerged from the bathroom all fresh and pink, she cringed to see her dad out cold on her bed, his prick dangling wetly. He turned in his stupor and mumbled something about taking a piss. Marsha cowered against the wall as he stumbled past her, but he wasn't interested in her at the moment.
She quickly dressed in an old blue T-shirt and white shorts. She wanted to appear as unattractive as possible. Wanting very much to avoid any further sexual contact with her raunchy dad she turned the TV on in the living room and sat oh the sofa, trying to look absorbed and occupied was no use.
Her father appeared in the doorway took one look at her ripe, jutting tits and naked thighs and sighed.
"God damn, you look good enough to eat," he murmured.
"Oh, no," Marsha gasped, seeing his prick rise up in his soiled pants.
Her father chuckled and came at her from across the room. It as then that it happened. As he rounded the corner of the sofa, he stepped on an empty whiskey bottle. The bottle spun and took his foot out from under him. Marsha stared in disbelief as her father crashed to the floor. His head cracked against the TV set. And he just lay there.
Marsha remained cowering on the sofa for a long time before it dawned on her that her dad was not going to get up, have a few slugs of booze and rape her again. He simply wasn't getting up at all.
"Daddy?" she rasped, leaning forward slightly, peering down at his white, pasty face. "Daddy?"
Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. There was blood oozing out of her father's hair and he looked dead.
"Oh, my God!" she cried and ran to the telephone.
Things happened rapidly after that. An ambulance came and she watched her father being taken away on a stretcher. Then there were the hours of worry and anxiety, of pacing the living room floor, wondering what to do.
Finally, she remembered her brother and she called him at work. He came home as fast as he could.
"What happened?" he wanted to know. Marsha told him exactly what happened, and Ernie squatted down near the TV and checked out the set. He could see where his father's head had struck it.
He got to his feet and looked at his sister. "Is he gonna be all right?" he asked.
"I don't know. I thought he was dead! But the man in the ambulance told rue he'd be all right. He said something about a concussion or something like that."
Ernie poured himself three fingers of whiskey and downed it. "So he ain't dead, huh?"
Marsha stared wide-eyed at him. "You sound disappointed!" she gasped.
He laughed. "I am in a way."
Marsha bit her tongue again. How she would have liked to tell him just how well she knew Ralph Brennan! But she didn't have the heart to speak of her horrible adventures with dear old daddy.
Instead, she said, "The hospital should call soon. Then we'll know how he's doing."
"I don't give a shit," her brother snarled.
He went to the front door and opened it. Marsha looked dazed.
"Where are you going?"
He laughed. "Hell, I got the rest of the day off. Might as well enjoy myself. I'm going down to Elmo's Bar."
The door closed behind him and Marsha stared at it for a long time before she realized that her brother really didn't care whether his father came home or not.
She had to admit to her inner-most self that she didn't care either, but she fought the truth down and at least tried to make believe she cared about her own father's welfare. She waited patiently for the phone call, worrying her lower lip.
When minutes turned into a quarter of an hour, she wiggled her ass on the sofa and got comfortable near the phone. She let her pretty legs fall open. A hand dropped between her legs.
She purred, working her wet finger in and out of her creamy cunt. Aching for another orgasm, she started twirling her quivery little clit. During those agonized, reaching, straining moments she hoped to hell that the phone wouldn't ring and interrupt her.
The phone didn't ring. The doorbell did. Marsha squealed in alarm and yanked her wet finger out of her pussy. She jumped to her feet and ran to the door, red-faced and wiping her naughty finger on her shorts.
She opened the door and stared up into the beautiful face of a young woman, a dark brunette wearing a see-through blouse and a tight short skirt.
"Hello," the vision of loveliness smiled. "Are you Marsha?"
"Uh, yes, I am."
"My names Arlene Sloan. I'm with the county. I've just come from the hospital."
"Oh," Marsha said, puzzled. "Won't you come in?"
"Thank you," the woman said sweetly.
Marsha graciously got her a cup of coffee, then sat with her on the sofa. Arlene's eyes took the young girl in, appraising her carefully.
"I understand that you live here alone with your father and brother," she said softly.
Marsha glanced at the official-looking folder on the woman's lap and she said, "Yes, yes, I do."
Arlene smiled. "Please don't be nervous, Marsha. I'm not here to hurt you. I want to help. I've had a long talk with your father, and…" She set her folder on the coffee table and gazed at Marsha. "May I be frank with you? I've had a feeling about this case right from the start. Now that I've met you I have a feeling I can be open and honest with you. I'd like to be. But you'll have to be open and honest with me, too."
For some unknown reason Marsha felt warm and secure around this beautiful woman. She liked her. Arlene was wearing a bra, that was plain to see, but it was a small, feminine one. It looked dainty on her thrusting tits and Marsha liked that.
She giggled, relaxing, and she cooed, "I wish I could wear clothes like you. You look so beautiful."
"Why, thank you, Marsha," Arlene said with a bright smile that lit her eyes up. "And I think you're cute. Give it time. How old are you? Well, the way things are going these days, you'll probably be able to wear next to nothing."
They chit-chatted about fashion and sexual freedom. Marsha liked her a lot then, so she decided to have a cup of coffee with her. She went and got it and came back smiling and feeling friendly.
Then she asked the question she had been afraid to ask earlier. "How is my dad?"
"Well, he's going to recuperate from his fall," Arlene said. She paused and peered into Marsha's eyes for a long moment. "You seem like an intelligent girl. I'm going to be straight with you. In fact, that's why I came here. When I understood the situation, I figured you might need a friend."
"Me?"
"Yes, Marsha, you. You don't have to confide in me if you don't want to, but try to understand that I know exactly what you've been going through. Please don't blush like that. It makes you look pretty, but I don't want to shame you. The only reason I understand is that I've been through the same thing as you."
"I – I don't understand…"
"You will. If you'll let me be your friend. Your father is suffering from something far worse than an accident. Booze is his problem, not a fall in the living room. I've already arranged for some sober friends to have a talk with him. I'll let you know how he responds. If it works, your father will give up drinking and your whole life will change."
Marsha dropped her eyes. Did this beautiful creature know? Did she?
Arlene placed her tender hand on Marsha's wrist and pressed lightly. "I understand," she said softly, and there was a genuine love and concern in her eyes. "As I said, I've been through the same thing. Your father told the usual lies to everybody at the hospital, but I see through them. My father was a drunken slob, too, at first. I was your age when he started fucking me. That's what's happening here, isn't it?"
Marsha's first impulse was to deny such an accusation against her father! Against her! But Arlene was so gentle, so loving, so friendly. Marsha turned to jelly. Tears burst from her eyes and she threw her head into the woman's lap.
"Oh, Miss Sloan!" she wept bitterly and her whole body shook as she sobbed.
"There, there," Arlene soothed her, rubbing the back of her head. "Cry it out. I know how you feel. But trust me. If your father gets sober, everything will be different. He'll be a new man and you'll be able to take life as it comes. It won't be easy and it will require a lot of courage on his part, but he can do it if he really wants to. And please call me Arlene. I want to be your friend."
"Oh, I want you to be!" Marsha cried, sitting up.
Arlene wiped the girl's tears away from her smooth, white cheeks and smiled affectionately at her. "I'll keep you posted about developments," she said gently. "I'll give you my number in case you need me in the meantime. You're not alone any more, Marsha. I'm here with you, and I want to help you. I know how it is. My father used to rape me every night. He fucked me for years before he got sober."
"Oh! I never dreamed this nightmare could end!" Marsha said, with a smile. "If he gets sober he won't fuck me any more?"
Arlene caressed her cheek. "I didn't say that. I can't promise you that your father will never again want to fuck you. After all, you are a very sexy girl. Try to understand what it is that drives a man to fuck his own daughter. Just imagine the poor guy with a whopping hard-on, alone in the house with a gorgeous thing like you. Why just to see your cute tits and curvy little ass is enough to turn any man on, your father included."
"But – you said…"
"No. Now listen to me carefully, Marsha. You have to understand this the right way. You see, if your father is drunk, you have no choice. He will simply drag you to bed or wherever and fuck all he wants to because the booze has driven him out of his mind. If he's sober, you have free choice again, accepting or refusing to fuck."
"What!" Marsha gasped. "You think I would want my father to fuck me!"
Arlene laughed. "Well, I did. I mean, there came the day when I really wanted my dad to fuck me. He had been sober for quite some time and I loved him a lot when he was like that. Also, I was a very horny girl when I was a kid. I still am, for that matter, but my father is dead now. To tell you the truth, I'm glad I fucked him when he was sober, before he was taken from me forever. It released something in me. Today I can have sex without any guilt."
"I don't understand…"
"Never mind," Arlene said, stroking Marsha's face. "I'm probably going too fast for you. Just remember this part. If your father stops drinking and starts getting life together, it is no guarantee that he won't want to fuck you. It simply means that if he does fuck you, he'll do it sober and that means he'll fuck you with love, tenderness and caring. He won't viciously rape you any more. I know what that's like, believe me. It takes all the joy out of sex."
"Ohhh, Miss Sloan, Arlene, you're so smart!"
"Thank you. It's sweet of you to say that. But I'm not so smart – just experienced. I've been through what you're been going through. I understand your confusion and mixed emotions about having sex with your father."
"I have to tell you a secret," Marsha said, blushing slightly. "I let him fuck me one night. He was terribly sick and I wanted to take care of him and we were in his bed and I, well, I let his cock get into my pussy. But it was different, Arlene! Really! It felt like I was helping him. I didn't feel raped at all that night. But then…"
"There, there, I understand," Arlene said soothingly. "Don't think about the bad times. Cherish your feelings about that one good time. If your father takes his problem seriously, you might have many more good times to make up for the bad ones."
Marsha frowned, puzzled. "You sound like you're saying it's okay if I fuck my dad."
"I am," Arlene replied, smiling. "If it's your free choice. I don't care who fucks who in this world, so long as both parties are willing and happy about it. I know a priest who fucks a few of his parishioners. But it's by mutual consent. You see? If you and your father want to fuck, that's your business. But no rape. No brutality. No cruelty."
Marsha looked positively dazed. "Oh, Arlene, you're an answer to prayer! I've been so mixed up about that! You make it sound right! Ohhh, I've been trying to figure out why I liked coming when my dad was so brutal with me. Sometimes I secretly wished he would be gentle with me and love me and let me get hot first and then fuck me tenderly as if I counted as something. He's caused me so much fear and misery!"
"Now, now, don't cry again," Arlene said. "You don't have to shed any more tears. You're too pretty to be crying about such a thing. You should be enjoying your sexuality, celebrating it with joy."
She leaned forward a little and whispered, "I'd like to kiss your eyes. May I?"
That puzzled Marsha. "My eyes? You want to kiss my eyes?"
"Yes. May I?"
"Well, yes, I guess so."
Arlene pressed her lips gently against Marsha's eyelids and kissed first one then the other. Then she let the very tip of her tongue protrude from her mouth and she gently licked each eyelid.
"That feels nice," Marsha sighed.
Arlene smiled at her. "Let's try it on the lips," she whispered. Her eyes closed as she kissed the girl tenderly and lovingly.
"Mmmm," Marsha moaned.
Arlene drew her face away from Marsha's and stared into her clear eyes. "I'd like to do that to your tits. Will you let me give you some tender love for a change?"
"Well, I don't know."
Arlene slowly peeled Marsha's T-shirt upward and hiked it above her jutting tits. "Here, just hold it up a minute and see if you like this."
Marsha held her T-shirt bunched up and peered down in shocked amazement as the beautiful young woman gently kissed, nibbled, licked and sucked her swollen tits.
"Oh, golly," Marsha breathed, unconsciously urging her naked tits forward for some more female tenderness.
Arlene smiled to herself and kissed her way downward. She tongued Marsha's navel and the girl quivered. She needed no more coaxing then. Heaving a sigh of relief, she unzipped her shorts and shoved them down.
Inflamed by the teenager's movement and willingness, Arlene pushed the shorts all the way off and then licked her tongue down into Marsha's soft, furry pussy-hair.
She dropped on her knees beside the sofa and as her hot tongue slipped over the girl's sweet pussy-lips Marsha moaned deeply and stretched out on the sofa. She surrendered her body completely to this amazing, thrilling, gentle, love-making.
Arlene shivered with secret excitement and sucked the best cunt she'd had in her mouth in months. She worked her slippery littie tongue up into Marsha's suddenly grinding cunt and ate her out, leaving her breathless and heady.
Then both girls undressed. Stark naked, they went to Marsha's bed where Arlene taught her the joys of sixty-nine and lesbian love. Marsha writhed and came wetly dozens of times. She quickly picked up how to suck a woman's pussy in return. Both females moaned and groaned and whimpered with passion as they got each other off numerous times, delighting and exciting one another.
All of Marsha's pain and suffering was flushed out of her writhing body with her juicy come.