It was six o'clock. The sun was brilliant but low in the December sky as Trish and Randy settled down in the big bed in the attractive bungalow which Trish had rented at French Leave. They had both undressed immediately, Trish still eager for the loving only her brother could give her. Her climax in the MG had only made her more eager for love making, and she hungered for the youth's trim, sun-tanned body, for his young mouth and his mammoth cock. She never grew tired of making it with Randy. The incestuous nature of their affair made it more exciting for both of them.
For Randy, there was no woman who could hold a candle to Trish in bed – and he had taken her advice and fucked as many women as he could. There were chicks of all sizes and shapes, chicks of all ages. But Trish led the pack by a country mile. He surveyed her boldly. What a bod! She was lying wantonly on the bed, her long, tanned legs spread wide in a tantalizing pose, exposing the softly palpitating lips of her cunt to his prurient gaze. There were no patches of white to mar the even expanse of tawny shin; Trish sunbathed in the buff. Her firm, voluptuous breasts stood like matched mountains demanding conquest, their berry-sized crests already hard and quivering with anticipation.
They began to kiss, filling each other's mouths with their wet tongues. His hot hands were on her breasts, stroking them, pinching the nipples between his thumb and forefinger. She arched her back, offering him her luscious breasts to do with as he pleased. She was already moaning and squirming on the bed, her hand clutching her brother's stiff cock and reaching below to stroke his hairy balls. With the other hand, she caressed his rippling back flesh and tickled the back of his neck beneath his thick, shaggy blonde hair with the delicate tips of her brightly lacquered nails. Goosebumps rose on his flesh and he shivered involuntarily with pleasure as he bent down to take her pouting nipple into his mouth, sucking it gently at first, and then puffing a generous portion of warm flesh into his oral siphon.
"Oh God, baby! Oh Randy! Baby I've missed you so much. Let me suck your cock, baby. I'm starved for your cock. I'm thirsty for your cum."
The blonde youth's cock leapt into full hardness at her lascivious words; she never failed to make him rock-hard and compliant to her every demand in bed. Her wish was his command, and he got nothing but the fullest pleasure in return for his obeisance to his horny sister.
"Lie back, my baby, and let your ever-lovin' sis suck your sweet meat until your delicious hot cum scalds my lips and tongue and throat."
Randy wasted no time in doing as she asked. He turned over and lay on his back with his legs spread apart, anticipating the expert cock-sucking he was going to get from his beautiful sexpot sister. Trish was fantastic. She could almost fuck you off verbally, using all the right words to make a guy heat up until he could almost cum from being "talked off".
Trish kneeled between her brother's legs, letting her soft blonde hair cascade over her face to brush across Randy's jutting cock, which stood upright like a truncheon from his loins. He sucked in his breath as she waved her head back and forth across his man-meat and his muscled bronze thighs. Then she scooted forward, until her pneumatic breasts were cradling his prick in the hot cleavage, and she massaged his cock with the warm globes of flesh. This drove him crazy too. He loved every moment of the delicious agonizing pleasure, for the sperm was building up in his balls already, and he could hardly wait until her lips were fastened tightly around his cock and she was sucking his cum out as though it were a vanilla malt. He's meeting me at the airport. He works for the Pan Am radar installation on the island.
Trish drew back and took his cock in her hand. She began to stroke it gently, teasingly, letting her fingers trace delicate patterns down the length of his sex-flesh and around his straining balls. Randy could hardly stand it anymore. He groaned with pleasure as her taunting manipulations sent shivers of electric delight up and down his body. Then she lifted the heavy sac of his testicles and slid her finger beneath them, to toy with the puckered ring of his anus, driving him to even greater heights of anticipation. Finally he could wait no longer. Almost pleadingly, he cried out to her, "Oh Trish, baby. C'mon – suck it now. Suck it!"
"Yes, baby. Yes, darling. I'm going to suck it now. I'm going to put it in my mouth and suck and suck until you shoot that load of precious cum down my throat!" And she bent down immediately and fastened her soft, moist lips around his cock, kissing the blood-engorged head lightly at first, and then letting her tongue slide out between her lips to probe the tiny slit in his cockhead, drinking away the clear lubricating ooze that was to her as nectar is to a bee. She mewled and purred with delight as she savored the taste of her brother's cock juices on her taste buds. Randy fastened his hands in her hair and urged his pelvis upward, driving his cock deep into the warm grotto of her mouth.
Trish opened her jaws to give him free passage to fuck up inside her throat and then, like a Venus Fly Trap, she closed her coral lips over his hardness and gripped his cock tightly.
Her fiery tongue licked circles of molten lava along the underside of his shaft, and she began to suck him lovingly, eliciting groans of pleasure from the youth, who was writhing sensuously on the bed as she sucked him and stroked his burgeoning balls with her free hand.
Her sucking was accomplished and rhythmical now, as she confidently licked and sucked her brother's cock, knowing – as only the skillful female lover knows-that she would soon make him cum, and at the moment she wanted him to.
Randy lifted his head to watch her convoluted lips working hungrily on his cock. The sight of her sucking him never ceased to increase his arousal and his loins tense and jerked upward into her face, all the fleshy expanse disappearing with each forward thrust, except for a small stretch of it that glistened with her wet saliva.
Trish sucked wantonly, her mind consumed by her mouth's occupation. She felt she had been born for this; to make love, to give pleasure with her body and to receive it with her body. She flashed on the remembered image of Peter Knight standing so straight and dignified at the air field. She allowed herself to imagine that it was his cock she was sucking off. What a beautiful cock he must have, and how sweet his cum must be! She would taste it, all right. She would for damned sure! And as she thought of Peter Knight, she sucked her brother's cock with even more verve and determination, her breasts dancing wildly below her pumping head, bringing Randy closer and closer to his longed-for release.
"Suck it, suck it off!" Randy urged, as he dropped his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. For a moment, he pretended it was the tender lips and tongue of Davie Knight that were ministering to his carnal needs, that it was the pretty teenager who was sucking him off. Despite the square getup she was wearing, he had found her a super looking kid with good boobs and legs. There was something innocently sexy about her that she probably wasn't even aware of. She might be screwed up about sex with the kind of life she must have lived, hut he wasn't so sure. From his experience, those sheltered little schoolgirls usually turned out to be the wildest numbers on the block, once they had gotten laid. Geezus, it would really be a helluva hayride to get that tender young piece, shoot his boiling cum down her throat, into her sweet virgin cunt, maybe even her asshole… Trish just had to come through this time – he knew for sure now that he really wanted that Knight chick!
The impassioned blonde slaved over him, her body glistening from tiny droplets of sweat. The pressure was building in Randy's balls, she knew. She had sucked him off so many times since that first night when she crept into his bedroom and crawled under the sheet and placed his young cock into her mouth while he was still fast asleep. By the time he was fully awake, he was too far gone to protest, though he had been totally shocked to find his sister sucking him off. But there had been a growing attraction between them for a long time, and he had often jerked off at night, cumming into a wad of Kleenex while having fantasies about his older sister.
Randy forget about Davie Knight. He was consumed by thoughts of his impending orgasm, and of the hot-blooded female who was blowing him so beautifully, so perfectly, so much better than any other woman could do. Trish was the best, the absolute best at everything in bed – sucking, fucking, you name it. He drove his cock into her mouth harder and harder, pumping his loins against her face like a wild man until she gave a protesting mumble – which only spurred him to more frenzied bucking in his desire for the final release of semen in his scrotum.
And then…
"Ba-by… ohhh, baaa-byyy… I'm going to…"
The first fiery eruption of cum took place and he was seized with an epileptic trembling throughout his body as the torrent of white-hot fire shot through the length of his cock.
"… Cuuuuuuuuuuuummmm. Ahhhhhhgggghh! Suuuuuuuccckh meeeeeeee!"
"God, Sis, God," he groaned as he spewed his white-hot cum far back into her hungrily gulping throat and felt her finger slip another half-inch up into his tightly gripping asshole!
He was gasping, his lips were drawn back against his teeth and his brow was furrowed as though he were in agony. His prick began a sudden wild, convulsive jerking that flooded Trish's madly sucking mouth with torrent after torrent of burning semen, bloating her cheeks and forcing her to swallow desperately to keep from choking. She was crooning excitedly and ticking his testicles with the tips of her fingers as she continued to suck and swallow without letup.
Finally, with one last groan and convulsive shudder as the lovely blonde stewardess drank the juices of his passion, Randy spiked the final drops of his seed into her mouth.
Trish continued to nibble gently at the fleshy instrument long after Randy's body lay spent and motionless except for an occasional aftershock from his quaking orgasm. She always loved the way he came – powerfully, explosively, and his climax went on and on. With some guys, you'd never know they had crossed the finish line if you didn't have something to mop afterwards!
At last, when she knew she milked every last drop of semen from his balls for the time being, and when his rod began to lose some of its hardness, Trish crawled up and kissed her brother on the mouth. Randy threw a heavy arm over her and sighed a sigh of total fulfillment.
"That was… the greatest. The best," he said thickly. "Nobody does it as good as you. The best."
Trish smiled broadly. She agreed completely. "Rest a while, love. Then I'll give you a chance to nibble on my pussy. And if you do it well, if you really eat my pussy until you make me cum all over your wonderful mouth and tongue, then… then, maybe, I'll tell you just how you're going to get into little Davie Knight's sweet box!"
At these words, Randy suddenly found himself alert. His well-satisfied cock began to lurch into hardness again.
"Tell me!" he demanded.
"Patience, love. You might not be able to take it on an empty stomach," she teased.
Randy grinned. "Yeah, you're right. I think I'll have a bite to eat first." And with that he went straight to his task, licking and sucking his sister's pussy until she did indeed cum all over his mouth.
Peter Knight looked across the candlelit table at his daughter. He couldn't get over how much she had changed since he had left the luxurious condominium on Park Avenue and moved to the Bahamas. Davie had always been a pretty little girl, even as a youngster. But now! Now she grown into a real beauty. She was wearing a floor-length dress, a cotton print that was very girlish, and yet it delineated her trim waist and her generous young breasts in a most provocative way. Even her bare arms were lovely. Her large, hazel eyes glowed softly in the candlelight and seemed almost golden.
He was suddenly aware of the silence and the fact that he had been staring at his daughter. He cleared his throat. "How's school this year, darling?" he asked her in a somewhat forma tone. (School was the last thing on his mind, but it would get Davie to talking.)
She wrinkled her nose, closed her small fist and made a "thumbs down" gesture with her hand. "Terrible. The worst."
"You're keeping your grades up, aren't you?" he asked earnestly. (Davie was always a good student. Bright as hell.)
"Oh, sure… it's not that difficult – though the nuns throw as much at us as they can. The idle brain is the devil's workshop, don't you know! It's just that…"
"Just what, sweetheart? Tell me," he urged, reaching across the table and taking her hand in his.
"Oh, Daddy. It's a horrible place!" she blurted. "They treat us like children – or inmates! It's a prison. I absolutely hate it there. I always have."
"I never realized that, Davie. You don't say too much about it in your letters."
"I know I didn't want to worry you or anything. I wanted you to think I was happy… so you wouldn't feel bad about being so far away," she stated simply, as only an innocent can do.
Peter Knight was genuinely touched. This was his beloved daughter speaking, the one person in the whole world he really loved. She was his daughter, and she was expressing concern for his needs, for his welfare. He had left her and gone off, free as the wind, to pursue his dream.
God, he never realized how much he had failed her! He had thought of his own selfish needs, rationalizing that Davie would be better in New York with her mother and her school friends – something solid to depend upon. Sure, that was part of it. But he hadn't allowed himself to consider that maybe Davie would be happier with him. After all, what would he do with a teenage girl in the house? How could he have any action with a kid around?
He thought ruefully how little action he had had in the past three years. Guests were out, as a rule. Bad business. The help – likewise. Most of the women employees were married, and all were Bahamian blacks. He wasn't about to "go native" to that degree! So he usually hopped over to Nassau when he had to get laid. Those excursions were rarely rewarding. But then, how much can you say for a one night stand ever? He'd just as soon jerk oft as fuck a woman he didn't give a damn about. With Davie here before him now he realized how very much he did love her, and how much of a void there had been in his life – how much larger that void would be after she went back to New York.
Covering his thoughts with an understanding smile, he sorted the subject with another question. "And how's your mother, Davie?"
The lovely teen sighed heavily. "Mother is mother – as always." Then pausing, she admitted, "I hate her guts."
Knight was surprised by his daughter's frank and negative statement. "Now, honey, you know you don't mean that!" he protested.
"I know I do mean it, Daddy," she insisted, looking at him steadily with her innocent thick-lashed eyes. "She's a… a bitch! A cold, selfish bitch! Sometimes I wish – I know I shouldn't say this… Promise you won't tell – I wish she were dead!"
"Davie! Words like that are not very pretty coming from a young girl like yourself. Besides, your mother is your mother, and you know she loves you very much. She's trying to do what's best for you, darling."
Not for a moment did Peter Knight have the conviction off his words. He knew Francine was a bitch; knew she was cold and calculating. He did feel that she loved Davie – in her own way. But he also knew that his selfish society wife never really wanted to have a child, that she had always resented Davie – now, probably more than ever, since she was becoming a beautiful young woman and therefore, a threat! Damn! He was a rotten bastard himself for leaving his precious daughter with that – bitch!
"Do you call what's best having me raised by nurse-maids and housekeepers? Do you call what's best keeping boys away from me because she's afraid I might do something to spoil her reputation? She doesn't trust me, you know. Do you call what's best running around with airy little fairies; having them in the house all the time; sleeping with them?" Tears were beginning to well up in Davie's eyes. Her hand was trembling. "She does, you know. My mother sleeps with homosexuals! I've seen her!"
Peter Knight was shocked and outraged. He never expected to hear what came from the lips of his naive young daughter. Rage began to burn in his chest as he thought of Davie being sullied by witnessing her mother in bed – and with a faggot! It made him feel nauseous. "You… you saw your mother with a man?"
"Oh, I wouldn't call him that! And it wasn't just one – there were two of them…" she sobbed.
"What??? But… but I…" He was at a loss for words, unwilling to voice the question. He didn't have to.
"One day I came home early from school. I had just gotten the curse and had these terrible cramps, so I got to go home. The housekeeper was out. I was on the way to my room and I heard all these noises coming from Mother's bedroom; mostly men's voices, although there were other sounds, too. It was so strange… I couldn't imagine what was going on, but it all seemed kind of violent. So I tiptoed down the hall. The bedroom door was open, so I just sort of looked in."
She drew a deep breath. The tears were rolling down her cheeks and her young body was shaking with emotion. "There were these two fairies on the bed and they were… doing it, the way they do it… one behind the other one. And the one in front… well, there was my mother, lying on her back, and her head was between his legs – the one in front – and she was… she had his thing in her mouth and she was doing it to him with her mouth!"
"You saw that? You saw that? Oh my God! Oh my poor darling girl!" he said, rising from his chair and coming over to kneel beside her and hug her to his broad chest. He was almost as overcome with emotion as she was. She sobbed into his jacket and he stroked her silky hair, smelling again the clean, untainted fragrance of wild grasses newly mown. "Davie, my darling Davie, I'm so sorry, darling. So very, very sorry!" he said to her, the anguish apparent in his voice.
She went on, compelled to complete the gruesome story, which had lain on her chest like a millstone. She had kept her secret to herself, too ashamed to tell her friends. There was no one she could confide in, until now. "They didn't see me. The guys had their backs to the door. And my mother well, naturally she couldn't see anyone but that person. He's her decorator, Lewis. I didn't know the other one. I ran to my room and stayed there the rest of the day. Oh Daddy, it was so awful, so sick! And all this time, I can't even have a party at the house with boys! I can't go to a dance or a movie or anything unless there's a grownup along! Yet she sends me to this school, so she can say, 'My daughter goes to this very proper, very fashionable lah-dee-dah school for rich girls.' Hah! If she only knew what went on there!"
Now Peter Knight had another source of concern. "What are you taking about, Davie?"
"Daddy, you wouldn't believe it. Practically all the girls smoke dope, and some even push it! I've done it myself – smoked it a few times. They call you a square if you don't. And some of my friends drink. Are you shocked, Daddy, to find out that your little girl knows how to drink and smoke dope? I don't really dig it that much. But I have to go along with it. Otherwise I won't have any friends at all! But that's not the worst. There are other things you'd be shocked, Daddy, you really would be."
He was already as shocked as he ever expected to be. Now, her last statement had hinted of a thing he couldn't bear to face. Not his little girl. Not Davie. He gave her an incredulous and wounded look it conveyed his thoughts.
"Don't worry, Daddy I'm not talking about boys – although there's a lot of that with some of the girls. It's worse than that, in a way. Do you know what I'm taking about?"
One apprehension exited only to be followed close on the heels by another one. His mind was racing. He felt a terrible queasiness in the pit of his stomach.
"You don't mean…?" He couldn't say it.
"Slumber parties. I didn't want to go when I found out what was going on – what was expected of me. But they gave me a really hard time. Called me names and made fun of me. So I… finally had to go along. But I don't like myself for being weak. I guess in some ways, that makes me just about as rotten a person as my mother…"
"No, Davie, no!" he defended. His jaw was clenched but there was compassion in his eyes. Compassion, pain and great love. He blamed himself for his daughter's debasement. If only he had stayed in New York… if only he hadn't run away to the solace of an island paradise… But he knew all too well the futility of the "if only" game – and it was a game. Now his task was to rescue Davie from the sordid existence her mother had exposed her to. Curse that bitch! He would see to it that his precious daughter was freed from her mother's clutches if it was the last thing he did – even if it meant selling French Leave and moving to another part of the country… or to another part of the world!
But how? Davie was still a minor, and in her mother's custody. Yet he knew perfectly well that if she wanted to live with him no judge in the world would send a truant officer to drag her back to her mother. Still, Francine was vindictive – hadn't she kept Davie from seeing him for three long years? And she had money. Next to fear, money was The Great Persuader. She might hound him to the ends of the earth, just to make him suffer. What could he do that would keep Francine off his back and Davie in his life for as long as she wanted, until she was ready to go off on her own? He suddenly realized that he hadn't asked his daughter if she would, in fact, like to remain with him. Unless she did, his efforts would all be in vain.
He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and began to dab his daughter's eyes very gently. God, she was lovely. It sickened him afresh to recall the details of her mother's perverted display. What the hell had gone haywire with Francine? He always felt she preferred no sex to any kind of lovemaking at all! But then, that was with him. How could she have turned on to faggots at this stage in life!
"Davie… sweetheart," he said softly. "Tell me something. I want you to be completely honest, darling. Don't say anything you don't mean – not even to spare my feelings. I've got to know the absolute truth, OK?"
She looked at him so earnestly, so ingenuously that he was embarrassed at having asked for her honesty. "Sure, Daddy I'll level with you," she answered, managing a small but endearing smile.
"Darling, do you think you could be happy living with me – I mean, living with me for a long, long time; not just these next ten days?"
She broke into an excited smile and threw her arms around his neck, almost knocking him off balance as he kneeled on the floor. "Oh, Daddy, do you mean it? Can I stay with you, forever? Oh yes! Yes, I want to be with you, Daddy. I love you so much! You're the only person in the whole world I love. Don't send me back there, Daddy. Please, please don't make me go back!"
Peter Knight hugged his daughter tightly as he kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks. Nothing in the world could have made him happier at that moment. "Don't worry, darling, I won't. It's all going to work out, Davie. Everything's going to be fine – just fine!"
She drew back from him, a quizzical look on her beautiful face. "That's funny…"
"Funny?" He was puzzled.
"Yeah. Trish said the same thing…"