Olive didn't care about what had happened. She didn't care if she had ten babies all at once. All she knew was that she wanted this big man, Pete, to fuck her again with that marvelous huge cock of his. She wanted to feel his bigness swelling and throbbing inside her; feel it jam hard against her clit until she went mad and then, yes, have it all again-the hot sperm smashing against the walls of her womb. She was near fainting from the pleasure of that first fuck of his and she felt, with pleasure, the quickly cooling sperm inside her, could picture it soaking the inside of her cunt like slowly solidifying candle wax.
"Man, but that was a groove," she whispered to Pete Lonsdale.
"I'm glad you liked it, Olive," he said, catching his breath. His organ was limp as, he lay beside her, but he knew he was a good enough man to get it up again once a short period of time was past.
"It was the best thing I've ever had happen to me," she said warmly.
Pete took her in his arms, then, and kissed her. "That's saying quite a lot," he said.
"You did quite a lot," she replied. She could still feel his cock inside her. It was as though every fiber of her cunt still retained the exquisite memory of his hugeness ravishing her. It was a good feeling, like warm summers in the San Bernardino mountains when she was a young girl running barefooted through the grassy Holcomb Valley near Big Bear Lake. It was like good evenings at home when her father was in a good mood, smiling at her.
Always it got back to her father. She knew now that she had probably wanted him for a long time. Pete had made that clear with his attentions and his intense lovemaking. Made it certain in her own mind that Pete was the welcome substitute for her own father. Now that she knew it, she wanted Pete all the more. It made it possible for her to live in the best of two worlds. This, she thought to herself, was, in truth, eating your cake and having it, too.
Feeling this warm happy glow all over her body, Olive reached over and took Pete's cock in her hand. The limp flesh made her feel tender toward him. A few moments before, that same mass of muscles, sinew, and nerves had been swollen within her like a rubber jackhammer and now it was soft like warmed gun from a gum tree. She kneaded the sated flesh of his cock between her fingers, tumbling his sleeping flesh in rapid movement.
"Your hand feels good there," he said in the dark of the cabin.
"I want to get ready again," she sighed, giving his cock a gentle squeeze.
"You mean hard."
"Yes. Hard. Hard as a rock."
"There is a way," he said tentatively. "To what?"
"To get it hard in a hurry."
"How?" she asked.
"Maybe you won't want to do it."
"Maybe I will."
He reached his hand over to her thighs and found her pussy. He pushed on it gently as though to define its boundaries.
"Yes," he said, "maybe you will."
"Just tell me what you want me to do," she said.
"Suck me."
The storm hurried the winds along and spat the rain against the Sea Stud as though in punctuation to their almost whispered dialogue.
"I will," she said, and turned her body like a growing vine next to him.
"You're a doll," he murmured.
"Mmmmm," she smiled, and found his latent cock with her lips.
They brushed across the wad of flesh like a warm whisper and Pete took her young head in his arms. "You're such a sweet girl, Olive," he said. "To do this."
"I want to," she said. "You make me very happy."
He gave her head a squeeze, too overcome to reply. Her lips brushed against his limp cock again and he waited for her to arouse him.
Olive thought to herself that it was unlike her affair with Cathy. With Pete, all the lovemaking parts were on the outside. She kissed his limp rod and then extended her tongue and licked it. It wasn't that much different, after all, she decided. The smell of his love musk made her giddy again. She decided, then, to be bold.
She took his cock into her mouth and swathed it in her saliva. She felt it stir like an awakening serpent.
Gradually she became less self-conscious with herself. This was not anything totally new, after all. It was merely sex in another form. But the newness was still a "thing" with her. Even more exciting, though, because it was with Pete Lonsdale. Her father's boss. Her father's substitute.
She felt a sense of power with his cock in her mouth. She could bite it off and he would be less of a man than he was. She almost shuddered at the horrible thought of such a thing. Still-it was there. It had flesh and blood in it. But she felt even more powerful knowing that she could work a magic with it. Transform it. Turn it from a limp useless pisser into a giant throbbing cock that could fill her cunt with its massiveness. This was what she wanted. This was the best thought of all.
Her lips suckled him like a piglet at its mother's teat. She took the head of his cock between them and tasted it as though it were a mushroom fresh picked from a forest glade. Her face buried itself in the hollow of his thighs. She could feel the growth of his organ, like a stalk of meat suddenly finding life.
"That feels good, Olive."
She was silent, absorbed in her love work.
His cock began to uncoil, become rigid. The muscles filled with blood from the veins and soon she could taste the lemony seepings from his tiny slit-hole in the tip end of his prick.
Pete pushed upward, his cudgel disappearing in Olive's mouth. He could feel the back of her throat and the touch of it brought the blood rushing to the head of his instrument. Her pulling mouth brought intense pleasure to his whole body, but especially to his organ, now laved to a slick harness, curved like some thick sickle of flesh. Her mouth tightened around his cock and he pushed in and out slowly, letting the warm feeling flow through him. As her lips sucked on his reddening organ, she swabbed the head of it with her coarse tongue, describing a circular movement as she did so.
She was surprised at herself. She was surprised that she could take so much of that long hard prick into her mouth. She felt that she could swallow its full length and pull it into her belly, attack her womb from a different direction. But she nearly gagged several times when she took too much of him. She did not let Pete know this, though. She blinked back the tears that came and continued her sucking. The salt-lemon taste of his discharge brought a thrill to her. She sucked at this and savored it on the tip of her tongue. The more she sucked the stuff away, the more seeped back out, it seemed. She liked it too when Pete upthrust his hips and drove his shaft against the back of her throat. She knew she was sucking him good
and the feeling made her clit tremble inside her soaked pussy like some rung belltongue at the bottom of the sea.
She reached down tenderly and cupped his hairy balls in her hand. She began to gently massage the slack flesh of his sack as her mouth went up and down over his smooth wet prick. She kneaded his nuts in her hand and then moved her fingers underneath his nuts in her hand and then moved her fingers underneath his scrotum. She felt his body respond to this new touching and encouraged, she let her finger wander further underneath him. She found the narrow passageway from his sack to his anus and her fingernail probed the tight hole that lay like a puckered crater between the nates.
"Ummmmm," Pete moaned, and thrust upward with his hips.
Olive tightened her lips and took almost all of his flare-red prick into her throat. Her finger probed still further and when Pete's ass came down, she slid her finger inside his asshole. She found that she could control his movements by asserting pressure at this point and make his loins rise and fall as she wished. It became a delightful novelty to her. She fingered him as though she were working on a woman's pussy and slid her finger in and out of his asshole. Pete squirmed and wriggled on her finger like a goosed young girl and every time he moved, Olive took more of his cock into her sucking mouth.
"You're an artist," he told her. "You are already an expert at lovemaking in your teens, Olive. There are damn few grown women who know how to make a man this happy."
Olive gurgled with delight, his cudgel buried halfway down her throat. She tried to thank him but she would not release his throbbing cock from her suckling grip on it.
Pete reached up and ran his fingers through her hair. He gave the back of her neck a gentle squeeze as if to say, "That's all right. Don't stop. Just keep sucking me."
Olive got the silent message and although her jaw was tired from the constant use of the muscles, she renewed her oral lovemaking.
Nor did she neglect her anal probing. The combined effort produced a rapport between the two that was even stronger than before. Olive's body began to perspire as she found new strength. Her mouth became more rubbery as she swished her saliva over his prick and sucked it in and out. Her tongue lapped up his juices as fast as they came while her finger went deeper and deeper into his now distended asshole.
Pete took her hand in his hands and wrenched it as he felt his sperm ready to explode. "I-I'm coming, sweet," he whispered.
Olive gurgled and shot her finger deeper into his ass. She sucked harder on him. As she felt his cock grow even larger she bobbed her head up and down on his joint in quicker rhythm. She now took his prick very deep into her throat, tongued the tip of it more vigorously and sucked at it with more suction.
"That's it, Olive. I'm almost there."
Her head moved faster up and down. His cock disappeared like a freight train going into a tunnel, and like on a crazy film, reversing the action -in and out, in and out.
He could not last under such conditions. And he didn't.
He moaned as his hot seed shot up the tube and splashed against the back of Olive's throat. "Jesus," he groaned.
Olive gurgled as his cock spat milkets all over the inside of her mouth.
The taste, like that of almonds, gave Olive a deep satisfaction. She gladly took all he had in him and sucked him for more.
The head of Pete's cock became extremely sensitive and he winced when Olive's lips touched the tender part. Exhausted and satisfied, he lay back and pulled Olive close to him. She turned, her mouth full of his sperm, and lay beside him. She swallowed as much of his come as she could, then kissed him. Their tongues intertangled as they explored each other's mouth.
"That was good, Olive," he whispered when they broke.
"Thank you, Pete," she said. "It was a new experience for me."
"I'm sure it was. I hope it won't be the last."
"Me too," she chuckled. Then, "Pete…?"
"Yeah?"
"I-I want you inside me. Will you be able to? "
He laughed and put his hand on her damp nest reassuringly. "Sure. Anytime. In a minute or two."
"That soon? I want you very much."
"Keep your fingers crossed."
"But not my legs."
"No," he smiled, "not your legs."
She reached over and took his limp organ in her hands then, and played with it vigorously so as to arouse it.
True to his promise, it was not long before Pete was again ready. His stout prick became born to the edge of rocket explosion. The rhythm they had set up was self-protecting, however. Each time he would feel like it might be over for them, he would reach the top of a swell, crest it outside in the cooling air and when his passion had partially subsided, he'd plunge down into the pulsing squeezing depths of her pussy again.
"Olive, dearest," he whispered, "this is the best ever. The best I've ever had."
"Mmmmm," Cathy murmured.
"You're really caught up in it, aren't you?" he asked, wondering why she didn't speak.
"Unh huh," Cathy gasped.
Her heart was pounding with the exquisite thrill of his words. He had told her that she was the best. The best! Better even than her mother! She had never expected anything like this! Not that she was competing, she told herself, but she was younger. She was prettier. And her father had said that this was the best he had ever had. She wanted to shout out in the dark of the cabin that she was his daughter. She wanted to scream, "Fuck me, fuck me, daddy!" and then hold his cock inside her until it spilled over with fresh hot seed.
She successfully stifled her wild impulses, however, and kept up the new rhythmic fuck-time they had found. But it nearly broke her heart that she couldn't tell her father how much she loved him, right now, as he lay on her soft body stroking her cunt with his huge swollen cock.
Pete was too caught up with his own good feelings to realize that he was mounting his own daughter. He had felt this way while balling Olive anyway and the last image he had was of Olive's face. Otherwise he might have understood that this was not Olive beneath him, but Cathy, his daughter.
He found his thoughts intermingling. Part of them concerned Cathy, part concerned Olive. He tried to envision the young pussy he was pronging. He exulted in the way it held his cock firmly, yet seemed to be enlarging as if to pull him deeper into its warming depths.
Once or twice, his cock brought a stab of pain to Cathy's pussy. Rather than resent it, however, she enjoyed it. She almost gave a cry of pain once when he rammed forward to jab painfully against the blunt, solid end of her cervix. She flung her legs wide to alleviate the hurt, her toes curling and digging into the mattress.
Pete's hands slipped down under the rounded melons of her buttocks, raising them while at the same time he strained his cock into her with all the power of his hips and thighs that he could muster.
Cathy moaned incoherently with the delicious pleasure this brought to her. She wound her warm and smooth young legs around his hips as he thrust ever deeper into her cunt. The smooth, velvet folds of her soaked vagina held him, squeezing tightly around his rigid shaft, until she could feel every inch of tight skin on his stiff and pulsing prick. She surrendered totally to the lure of flesh, their separate organs now fused into a single instrument of madness and pleasure. She reveled in the titanic feelings of lust her father brought to her loins. She screwed her grinding buttocks up tight against his pelvis until she could feel the tantalizing tightness of his balls pressed hard into the wet, wide-stretched crevice just below her throbbing vagina. The soft, hair-covered skin danced teasingly against the sensitive outer rings of her tiny naked anus, sending hot shivers of lusty delight pouring through her butterfly-fluttering nerve ends.
She no longer cared what she said or did. Her father's cock inside her was too much. It released passions in her that she didn't know she possessed. She didn't care about tomorrow or the next day or the next year. Only now was important. Only now was real. Now was her father skewering her eager body on his cunt-greased lance, pounding it into her as she bucked like a madwoman beneath him.
She gave herself up to the driving sex of her father without serious thought of any consequences here, now or ever. There was nothing else in the entire universe for Cathy except this: the pure electricity of her father's cock driving into her love tunnel; the sheer ecstasy of his cock prodding her cunt to a flaring eagerness. It seemed to her that her red hole opened up and became a cauldron of lust made only to receive that fatness and hardness that was his bucking cock. There was nothing for her but that deep dark hole of flesh and lust, of belly smacking against belly, crotch grinding against crotch, organ meeting organ.
And finally, she could contain her silence no longer. So intense was her passion that she couldn't help herself, couldn't stay the explosion that had been fomenting beneath the surface of her lusty expression of body.
"Oh, my God, fuck me hard, daddy, fuck me hard, give it to meeee!" she shrieked.
Orgasm began to overtake her and her body became something animal and possessed. She was no longer rational or human as she twisted and contorted her body, spreading her legs wide apart and then pulling them up to her shoulders, bending them at the knees, spurring him on like some wild centaur with the heels of her feet digging into his tense and driving buttocks.
"Give me all your fuck, daddy!" she screamed into the silence of the cabin darkness.
Then the flashes of light, the bright rainbows, the exploding Roman candles, the cascading aurora borealis as the shudder of orgasm electrified her body and paralyzed her brain.
The glory of it all was that her father increased his pumping and held her tightly in his arms as his own orgasm turned him into a dancing marionette.
"Oh, Cathy, Jesus, is it you?"
"Yes, oh yes, daddy," she moaned, "it's me."
"I can't believe it," he gasped, holding her tightly to him.
His sperm splashed against the walls of her cervix and he felt the contractions of his daughter's pussy.
"Give it all to me," Cathy whispered into her father's ear.
Pete closed his eyes and shot the last of his milk into her. He didn't trust himself to speak for a long moment.
Then he opened his eyes slowly and reached for the bunk lamp switch. He clicked it on and the dim light lit up the features of his daughter, Cathy.
Pete gulped. The air seemed to leave his lungs of its own volition. "Oh, Christ," he muttered finally.
Cathy began to weep.
"Don't cry," he husked. "You'll just make it more complicated."
She looked up at him, her eyes large and wet, like a hurt spaniel's.
"Are you mad, daddy?" she asked in a tiny voice.
Pete shuddered. ".`Stunned would be a better word," he said. "This is hardly real. It's-it's like something out of a dream."
"I-I couldn't help myself," she said.
"But-then you know about Olive," he offered.
"Yes."
"And you did this?"
"Yes," she said in a soft, almost inaudible, voice.
"Why?"
"Because-because I wanted you," she said, breaking into sobs again.
Pete lay beside her and held her in his arms. She was his daughter, not his lover, once again. "Damn-I have to think," he said, more to himself than to her.
Cathy was silent, her heart pounding like a muffled savage drum.
It was quiet in the cabin for a long while. Finally, Pete reached up and turned out the lamp, plunging the cabin into darkness again.
"Well, we can't tell anyone about this," he said, after what seemed like an eternity to Cathy.
"No. I know," she said.
"Especially not your mother."
"No. Especially not her."
"Jesus!"
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
“Was-was it good to you?"
"Goddamn, Cathy. Why did you have to ask me that? Goddamn."
"I-I'm sorry."
"Yes. Yes it was good. The best I ever had."
He took her in his arms again. Tears of relief flooded down Cathy's cheeks as she felt his warm chest enclosing her in the womb of the bunk.
Then she felt his mouth on her breasts. They hardened like roasted kernels of corn. Her pussy twitched like an animal's sniffing out nourishment.
His hand found her matted hairs, his come drying in them like paste. His finger went gently inside her eager cunt.
She reached down and found his limp cock, took it, and began to massage it tenderly.
"I want you again, Cathy," he breathed. "One more time."
"Oh, thank you, daddy," she sighed, squeezing his stiffening organ in her hand.
It grew hard very quickly. She was afraid to ask him if this would be the last time they made love together. She didn't want it to end, ever.
In a moment, his organ was a rigid stalk once more, its hole seeping precoital fluid. She tried to pull it over to her pussy to replace his hand.
Pete mounted his daughter and she guided his cock to the front where her sex bubbled like a magic spring. He penetrated her very slowly, enjoying every exquisite second of the coupling. He felt his daughter's body shudder as he touched the tiny bud of her clitoris, heard her gasp as he sank his shaft clear to the scrotum.
"Oh, daddy," she breathed. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."
Pete had to fight hard to keep from shooting his wad into her right then.
She rocked with her legs going up and down and their fucking began again, the sweeter this time because both of them knew what they were doing to each other. Pete said over and over to himself that it was the best sex he had ever had.
Cathy held her father close to her and kept his cock buried in her pussy as deep as it would go. They never knew what time the storm ceased to exist. They had their own dreams coming to life, filling their minds with iridescent colors and gilded shooting stars.