"We forgot all about the vibrator," I said later, as we lay naked beside each other, lazily watching the blue smoke from the cigarette we were sharing curl upward toward the ceiling. Our bodies were barely touching. His hand rested on my belly.
"I didn't forget. I just knew that if you got me any hornier, I'd be climbing the wall," he said chuckling. He turned on his side, so he was looking into my eyes. "You know what'll happen to me if we let anyone know about this, don't you?"
I nodded my head, and he said, "I'm a bastard for doing it. A real bastard. But I just kept thinking about it and thinking about it. And Faye was asleep…"
"Shhh!" I touched his lips with my finger. "I wanted you to do what you did. I want you to keep on doing it. And nobody will ever know." I laughed as I thought of something. "And it's called fucking, not doing it. Remember that!"
That puzzled him until I laughed again and explained it.
While the cigarette slowly turned to ashes, we talked. He seemed somehow ashamed of what he'd done, and frightened, and I tried to make him see that what we'd done was right, that it was what I'd wanted for as long as I could remember, and that I'd never been happier in my life. As he lit and smoked another cigarette, he told me that he thought Faye might be right, that maybe he was some kind of pervert because he liked it best when he was doing it in some way that was different from the way others lucked. When he said that, and added that that might be the reason he'd come to bed with me, I felt so sorry for him I wanted to cry. And I hated that bitch Faye more than ever.
"Don't ever say that again," I said, kissing him and pressing the full length of my naked body against his. "Fuck Faye! Fuck what she says! You're no pervert. But if you are, I'm even worse," I put my hand on his cock, "because I want you to fuck me again."
He did.
As I teased at his cock with my fingers, feeling it slowly regain its hardness, he leaned over to snuff the cigarette in the ashtray beside the bed. He put his arms around me as I rolled on top of him. I felt his cock against my belly. His hands went to the cheeks of my ass, then slipped down the backs of my widespread legs.
Kissing him hard on the mouth, I slipped my hand between us and put his cock where it belonged. It slipped easily into the come-drenched slit of my cunt.
We began to fuck.
I set the pace of our movements, letting my hips roll in slow undulations, moving my shoulders from side to side so that my tits swayed above him, the stiff little nipples dragging across his chest; and he caressed the cheeks of my ass with his hands, gently, just running his fingers over the velvety orbs. My ass fit nicely into his hands… and his cock fit well into me.
It was a different feeling, this fucking with me on the top. It allowed me to enjoy all the sensual pleasure of contact with his body. The feel of his hips lifting between my legs. The touch of his pubic hair against my belly. The probing of his tongue into my mouth. The growing sensations inside my cunt. My hips began lifting higher onto his cock, falling back with more force.
"Look at that… look at yourself fuck," he said, and he suddenly put his hands under my shoulders and lifted me. I bent one knee, raising myself slightly, and I looked down across my body. Through the valley between my dangling tits, I could see the thick root of his cock where it was swallowed up by my lower body, the dark hair of his pubis, but that was all. From his viewpoint, I suppose, he was probably able to see the lips of my cunt, the way they moved as we lucked. The thought was somehow exciting.
The new position forced me to move my pelvis in shorter, choppier strokes that were no less exciting than the longer, slower ones had been. They were better, if anything. I looked down at his flushed face, saw that he was intently staring at the place where our bodies joined, and I looked down there, too.
It was easy to pretend I could see it all.
The pink lips of my cunt would be opening and closing as they sought to cling to the hard staff of his prick. That staff would glisten wetly with the oils of fucking. I saw it all in my mind…
It was just like the dreams I'd dreamed when I was screwing myself with the vibrator. The vision was as clear as if I'd been a third person, a stranger, standing beside the bed and watching the two of us fuck.
And it sent me into a flurry of passionate thrashing that drove me into orgasm after orgasm and lasted until long after he had slammed his cock hard into me for the last time, released his come inside me, and gone soft between my legs.
Faye's love for the bottle made it easy for us to get together, and the eagerness with which I learned to do the things he liked — all the things he liked — made it easier for my father to accept. It really turned him on when he saw that I actually liked them.
But the bit with the vibe was my favorite, because that was the one that brought him from Faye to me. And now, as I looked at the silent plastic cylinder, I knew that she'd never get him back.
"Never!"
So from incestuous fantasy and the desire to compete for affection, both of which are a basic part of human nature, Wanda advanced to actual commission of the act, and into a continuing affair which threatens disaster.
This case is an example of incest initiated at the want of the daughter, spurred onward by both love and hatred, the two most violent emotions. Hate, just like love, is a pathway to incest.
It took me a long time to figure out. But once I had it all thought out and straight in my mind, it didn't take me too long to see that I'd come across the one chance I was ever going to have to get back at Pa for all the whippings he'd given me just for breakin' down that one time and lettin' myself do the same thing he was hankerin' for. It was going to feel good, seeing the mean old bastard crawl like a whipped pup. Real good. I stared right into his hungrin' eyes as I leaned back against the tool shelf that was built against the wall of the barn. As I began to undo the buttons at the top of my thin cotton dress, he stood just inside the doorway, shuffling from one foot to the other.
"You come for your sample of what everybody in town's been a-gettin' didn't you," I said, with all the pure spite I could put into my voice. "So don't just stand there and try to make like you didn't. If you want it, come out like a man and ask for it. Less you ain't got the balls…" I just smiled and didn't finish the sentence. He'd ask. I knew he'd ask. That's why he was here.
"You little whore of the devil," he said. His face was in shadow now, but I knew he was staring hard at the open front of my dress. It was like his flat little eyes were burning the white jugs I'd half, bared… I undid another button and the dress was open to my waist.
"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.