John Fine - Sexy little sister

Inside the bedroom Liddy quickly slipped on her pants-but not bothering with her panties or sweater. She, of course, never wore a bra.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" asked Suzie, feeling a bit of a coward in the face of her friend's boldness. "Maybe you'd better wear your sweater," she added quickly to hide her own fear.

"Mind? I'd love to have that skinny little dick up my box. And my asshole. And my mouth." Liddy smiled and turned about in the middle of the room, showing herself off. "Look all right? Don't think this is too much, do you?" she asked, pointing to the buttons of her pants which she had failed to fasten. Tufts of blonde pussy hair showed themselves.

Cindy looked at the exposed bush critically. Finally she gave her assent. "I guess he'll see it sometime, Liddy. Go ahead. But don't do anything to embarrass him. And do put your sweater on, like Suzie suggested."

"OK." The big blonde smiled and headed for the door, sweater in hand. Joey ran on bare feet back to his room to wait. What a surprise she'd have. But just at this crucial moment, the worst that could happen to Joey in his short life time occurred. The front door opened and slammed. On the tile floor below Joey heard the heavy tread of his father.

"God damned, NO!" he cried, glancing at the clock on the wall. Eight-thirty. His father was home early and had unknowingly tricked him out of the one thing he wanted most-Liddy's hot quim and his first sexual experience. Tears in his eyes, his hard cock jutting forward out of his pants, he hurried to his room. Inside he threw himself on the bed and sobbed audibly. Fortunately, in their haste to get all their clothes on, the two sisters and their friend did not hear the muffled crying coming from the child's room. They too had heard the door shut and were hastily making ready to meet their father-frustration in their hearts also.

Big Daddy Smith walked into the hallway of his comfortable old home, draped his Eisenhower style Sheriff's jacket over an armchair and headed for his den. Upstairs he could hear the girls in their room, putting their books aside and getting ready to come down and greet him. During the trying periods of his job he relied on the simple, straight forward love of his three children to sustain him. From his pocket his took a small fragile key that fitted the liquor cabinet. Normally he did not drink, but the last few days spent on the sex slayings had sent him home exhausted both physically and morally. For the last three nights he had opened the seldom used door that secured his modest whiskey cabinet supply, poured a four ounce glass half-full of bourbon, and relocked the cabinet. From the nearby kitchen he secured a large tumbler of water.

He did not like his children to see him drink. Not at their age. Yet he had a rough life. They would just have to understand that occasionally a man-even their father-needed a bit of narcotic support and stimulation. And it wasn't that he didn't like whiskey. But in his position he could not allow himself to indulge too often.

Quietly he sat at his desk and sipped the whisky, chasing it with cool water. As they did almost every evening, his eyes traveled to the picture of his former wife that sat on his desk. "Daddy Smith," he mused at his own nickname, "she was probably the only person never to call me ‘daddy'."

And he was probably right. Even before he became Sheriff, as a senior deputy, the whole county had referred to him as "Big Daddy." Those who liked him and thought of him as their gentle protector used the term fondly. Those who were on the other side of the law just referred to him as "Big Daddy," and their meaning was not so kind.

Quietly Daddy stared at the picture of his wife, whom he had never understood. He tried to pretend that she was dead, though everyone knew she had run off with a circus performer. There were nasty rumors that she performed special acts for high-paying private audiences in the evenings after the circus closed. Sexual acts with dogs. But of course no one believed these rumors, except possibly Daddy himself.

He had never understood her sexual drives. She used to complain, but he could never figure out why. Naturally he was too tired after work in the evenings to perform, but after he got on a regular schedule and had Sunday's off every week, he reserved every Saturday night just for sex. Sometimes he'd come two, even three times in one evening. But she was never satisfied.

Like Sunday mornings, for example, when they awoke in bed together. She'd still be naked, and want to make love. But she knew better than that. They had to get up early to get ready for church-especially when the children were old enough for Sunday school. But she'd still complain. "Lord," Daddy thought with repugnance, "she'd probably have done it every night of the week if she could. Disgusting." He'd heard of women like that. Women who not only could have sex every night, but wanted it. "Maybe some women are just born dirty," he concluded, "just like some people are born criminals."

Upstairs he heard a door slam. As they did every night, Cindy and Suzie hurried downstairs to greet him-and, damn it that Liddy was with them again. Daddy was not at all fond of Liddy. Some real people around town let it be known that sexually she might be a bit "free," and that was certainly not the kind of girl he wanted his daughters to associate with. But they had been friends for many years and he knew better than to try to disrupt their friendship now. Besides, he comforted himself, my girls are good girls. They've had a good wholesome upbringing. Maybe they'll have a good influence on Liddy.

A moment later, the girls burst into the den. Cindy gave him a pert kiss on the cheek and Suzie nestled into his lap, her arms around his broad shoulders. Liddy stood in front of him, an unexplainably large grin on her face. Somehow, Daddy Smith always thought she looked like a whore,

"Where's Joey?" he asked, looking furtively about the room. "His light was on when I drove up."

"Still busy with his model planes, I guess," answered Cindy cheerfully. "You know that's the only thing he cares about,"

"Well, that's good enough if he gets his lessons done. He's at an age when he could be getting into mischief, you know." answered their father, assuming his role as wise and understanding protector of the family. Then, slowly, he glanced up at Liddy. He was hoping she'd say goodnight and leave, but she made no effort to go.

"Mr. Smith," she began without hesitation, "we've been talking about the sex murders. Has anything new come up?" The young blonde had never stopped to think that such a subject was not considered to be acceptable in front of the older man's daughters. Daddy frowned perceptibly, but answered intelligently.

"No, nothing. It's tough. But that's not a subject for girls your age to be talking about, Liddy. Leave that to me and the department. Just be careful and stay at home at night, and you'll be safe."

Suzie wiggled uncomfortably in her daddy's arms, she knew he was embarrassed by talk that had anything to do with sex. And he, likewise, attributed her restlessness to similar feelings about the subject. Hastily he decided to get rid of the offensive blonde.

"Can I give you a ride home, Liddy? I'm afraid it's time we got to bed."

Liddy smiled graciously. She knew she'd gotten to the old boy and didn't mind a bit. "No thanks, Mr. Smith. Have my car right outside. I'll see you all at school tomorrow," she concluded, looking at the two sexy sisters. They nodded appreciatively, and their friend headed for the door.

"Better phone us when you get home to let us know you're safe," called Daddy after her, as a gracious afterthought.

"Oh, that's all right, Mr. Smith. I'm gonna stop off for a hamburger on the way home. Might be late getting in." With that she smiled and let herself out the front door.