Frank Brown: The farmer_s wild daughter

There was something different about her today, he thought as he looked down at her. She was more rosy-cheeked and more healthy looking or something. Maybe he just hadn't taken a close look at her in a long time, but she looked like a different girl.

She was barefoot, for one thing. Her mother would have thrown a fit to see Cindy lying there barefoot. Jim looked at the pretty young feet of his daughter and thought he hadn't viewed anything so beautiful in years. He resisted the urge to reach down and stroke them.

But there was more to the change he perceived in Cindy than her rosy cheeks and bare feet. She somehow looked more filled out than he remembered. It was as if she'd blossomed overnight from a little girl to a young woman. Her hair was down, dangling like gold silk off the porch swing, the tips of it nearly touching the porch. He'd never realized she had such long hair. Her mother would have thrown another fit to realize Cindy had grown her hair long.

Through the thin, white material of Cindy's blouse, Jim saw his daughter's plump young nipples pressing against the material with each rise and fall of her well-developed tits. His heart thumped and he swallowed when he realized she was braless. His cock started to swell in his jeans, and he quickly slipped into the house, easing shut the screen door behind him. He was stunned to see Cindy without a bra, and he was shocked at the effect it had on him.

He glanced back through the screen door and noticed the cover of Cindy's open paperback book – a color illustration of a man and a woman passionately embracing, the woman's tits bulging from her half-open blouse, the man sinking his teeth into her exposed throat. It shocked him to realize that Cindy read such dirty books.

So, my innocent little girl is growing up, Jim thought as he entered the kitchen for some lemonade. As he drank the lemonade, he thought to himself that he should have picked up a six-pack of beer while he'd been in town.

He went to the bathroom and pissed standing up in front of the toilet, something he hadn't done in the house since he'd got married. His wife had demanded that he sit down when he pissed so she wouldn't have to hear his piss splashing into the toilet water. She found the sound disgusting and uncivilized, she said, and that had been that.

He milked the piss out of his prick and found his hand applying a little extra stroking. His cock was still half-hard from his glimpse of Cindy's nipples through her blouse, and as he massaged his cock, it swelled and stiffened to a full, pleasantly throbbing erection. He felt wicked, and somewhat embarrassed to be beating off his cock like some teenaged kid.

He didn't think he'd jerked off more than a dozen times since he'd gotten married. His wife would have sent him to the minister if she'd ever caught him performing such a perverted, sinful, immature act, so he'd had to content himself with the once or twice monthly fucks she'd allowed him.

To his wife's disgust, however, he'd made up for the lack of fucking and masturbation with a lot of wet dreams over the past years, something his wife couldn't complain much about, since she'd realized that the only way he was going to have fewer wet dreams was if she allowed him to fuck her more often, something she was not about to do.

It sure felt good, sliding his foreskin up and down his veiny cock, watching the lube ooze out and moisten his bulbous cock-knob. His prick looked bigger now than when he'd been a teenager. He'd measured it once, when he was young, and he'd found it to be eight inches, measured along the top edge. Now it appeared a half-inch to an inch longer than that, and certainly thicker – and smellier. No matter how thoroughly he washed it, his wife had continually complained about the disgusting smell.

He was standing in front of the toilet with the bathroom door wide open, squatting slightly, his hips thrust forward, his hand yanking up and down his cock. Pre-cum ran over his grimy knuckles. He massaged his large, sweaty balls with his free hand. His jeans had ridden down to his knees, and the draft that wafted through the house felt good on his naked ass. He shucked off his shirt so he'd feel more naked and sexier, and resumed his ball-squeezing and cock-beating.

Visions of a girl's bare feet, blonde hair, and braless tits started to tease his imagination, but when he realized whose bare feet, blonde hair, and braless tits they were, he refused to dwell on the images. It wasn't right for a man to think of his daughter in that way. Try as he would to ignore them, the images persisted, returning repeatedly to tease him. He licked his lips. He saw Cindy's tits, braless under her blouse, her hot young toes, her silky, golden hair.

Man, what a girl! he thought.

Thrills needled his cock, shooting through the core of it. His balls swelled and tightened. The pit of his asshole tingled. His hand yanked his foreskin viciously, stretching it, working it hard against his bone-hard cockshaft. "What a girl!" he mumbled.

Hot, itchy sensations saturated his pulsating cock, and suddenly his jism erupted in white spurts against the wall, against the toilet tank. It fell on the toilet seat and dripped into the water. Humping his loins, jerking his hand, squeezing his balls rhythmically, he shot his load freely, not caring where it fell. The scent of his cum filled the air. His grunts of pleasure echoed off the bathroom walls.

"Awwww, yeahhh!" he moaned, and he imagined the blue eyes of his voluptuous young daughter glazed with ecstasy as he pumped his cum up her spasming teen pussy.

The back door slammed.

"Daddy, are you home?" Cindy called from the kitchen.

Jim Sutter's heart dropped into his stomach. In a panic, he stumbled out of the bathroom, his pants bunched around his knees, his cock still pulsating in his hand. He dripped cum all the way down the hallway as he made for his bedroom.

He dove through the door of his bedroom and locked it behind him. Faint from his powerful orgasm, he flopped down on the bed, his right hand still filled with half-hard cock and sticky cum. Cindy hadn't seen him, he told himself, although he wasn't convinced of it.

Cindy stood outside the bathroom, trying to decide whether she was awake or still asleep. She'd awakened on the porch swing to the sound of a voice in the house, and when she'd spotted her dad's pick-up truck, she'd gone inside, thinking that he might have called her. What she'd seen when she'd reached the hallway made her wonder if she wasn't still dreaming. She'd spotted her shirtless, bare-assed dad, his pants down around his knees, stumble into his bedroom and shut the door.

She stepped into the bathroom. Her dad's shirt lay on the bathroom floor. Immediately, she felt something sticky and warm oozing between her toes, and she jerked her foot back. A thick, whitish fluid dripped from her toes. She looked at the toilet and the wall behind it, and saw more gobs of the fluid. She sniffed the air. The smell was familiar. It smelled like the traveling salesman's jism.

Cindy guessed immediately what had happened. Her father had jacked off and had squirted his spunk all over the bathroom. If it hadn't been for her encounter this morning with the salesman, she wouldn't have known what all the sticky gobs and trickles were, or how they'd gotten splashed all over the wall and toilet.

She blinked her eyes and jerked her head. She was still groggy with sleep and she wanted to be sure she wasn't still dreaming. Each time she blinked, she found the scene in the bathroom unchanged. Her dad's spunk was everywhere, and the scent of it made her dizzy. She remembered his muscular back and bare ass as he'd stumbled down the hallway. She looked at his shirt lying on the floor. She imagined him beating off his cock the way the salesman had done it. She imagined his spurting cum.