Unknown - Sex-crazed stallion

"Oh baby, that's wonderful, fantastic oh yeah don't stop," he was moaning as he spit white come from his cock.

Sherry was surprised at first. Having experienced the orgasm of no other man besides her father, who was always so… sedate, reserved… she wasn't prepared for this out pouring of enthusiasm.

"Be careful," she warned him. "You're going to hurt your leg."

But Johnny seemed preoccupied more with his cock, and was getting ready to try and figure out some way to fuck this suddenly unexpected apparition. It would not be easy, and her old man wouldn't like it… but who cared? Every time he looked up at those lush round breasts hanging off her, he was filled with a sense of awe. She was almost perfect in her appearance, and for reasons that he didn't even come close to understanding she seemed to have developed a sudden and extreme attraction to him.

That suited him just fine.

Now, if he could only figure out a safe, sane way to have her climb aboard, and then fuck the ever loving shit out of her…

Rod felt restless. He'd looked in on Johnny a few minutes ago and Johnny had breathlessly related the tale of the hand job from nowhere that he'd gotten earlier in the evening.

Never had he seen a more blatant case of sexual repression, social repression, emotional, physical, mental repression… face it, these poor girls were repressed. One way or another, they were going to have to be pulled away from their father. He could see that now, and he could also see that it was going to result in a very severe confrontation.

Well, it couldn't be helped. The girls were almost at the point of being consciously willing. Not yet, for the influence of the long years of isolation with their father had developed a strong mental block to any concept of actually getting out, breaking away.

But the signs were as obvious as billboards plastered along the roadside. Hell, Sherry was the reserved sedate one, and Johnny said she'd just about torn his damn cock off!

And as for Carrie… well, that little honeyslit was already well along the road to thinking for herself and taking her own life into her own hands. It was simply, where she was concerned anyway, a question of options, and awareness of same. You might feel dissatisfied with your life as it had developed, but until you were able to conceive of real alternatives, that dissatisfaction would remain just that… a feeling of restlessness, unhappiness that would have no focus, nothing to bind together the diffuse threads of ennui.

How could she possibly have any sense of options? Christ! The girl had never known anything other than this wilderness. Having an educated father capable of passing on his education to his daughters had been a plus, of course; but the lack of human companionship outside the tight closed unit they had developed into could only limit drastically any concept in her mind of other possibilities. She might want to get out, but having no idea what was out there, she really couldn't know fully what it meant.

He would have to educate her. He would have to somehow get past her father and spend time with her.

It shouldn't be too hard; she was looking at him all through dinner. Or maybe he'd been staring so hard at her, that whenever she did happen to glance at him, he was aware of it immediately.

But no, there was chemistry at work here. They had both already been poured into passion's beaker, were already coming to a boil. The final reaction awaited only a catalyst of some sort. But what?

He had to think of something, because he doubted he have very many opportunities to get her alone away from her father's watchful eyes, and they had only a week or so before he would find a way to get them but of his hair for good.

He walked to the window and looked out. A full moon hung between the peaks of two distant mountains. Over the entire landscape, the white frosting of moonlight glazed the tops of the trees rolling up and down the slopes, illuminating the contours just enough to remind him how truly perfect this area was, how utterly untouched the land had managed to remain.

As untouched as Lucus Simpson's two daughters. (SIMPSON!!… DAUGHTERS!!!) The bells were ringing louder in his head. What was the story behind that queer old goat? Why did the fact of his two daughters stand out so strongly…?

It was maddening not to be able to put his finger on it, especially when it had hovered just out of reach, out of sight and out of mind the whole day, his efforts to call up any clue notwithstanding.

But his daughters were untouched.

Weren't they? Johnny had said that Sherry jerked him off like a pro in a massage parlor and then had given him head with such a sure touch that he'd come again almost at once.

Now where do you suppose she'd found a cock to practice on? There'd only been one for years and years. Which made the old man all the more sinister in Rod's eyes. Could he really have been subjecting his daughters to sexual abuses, throughout their childhoods.

That he now contemplated performing similar acts with Carrie struck him as being not at all out of the ordinary. For her father to do it however… that was sick, and if anything justified intervening in the situation that was it.

Oh, face it, he told himself, any excuse would do. The bottom line was unchanged from what it had been the moment Rod had walked upon the field and seen her riding majestically, defiantly, erotically, passionately…

He wanted her. He would have her.

Just then, a sudden movement caught his attention. Had he seen anything at all? Or were his eyes just playing… no! There it was again. Someone was moving through the shadows of the yard, and he had a good idea who it might be.

As he watched, he saw a figure pass through a patch of moonlight and saw the reflection of the cold light off warm golden strands of waist-length blonde hair.

It was Carrie!

Where was she going?

Rod had a good idea about the answer to that question. He also was getting a few other ideas. Hell, if she could sneak out, without the old man knowing, so could he.

Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to get that girl alone.

Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than that girl!

Nothing!!

He sat, as he had for hours, before the screen, eyes fixed on the flickering images bathed in the phosphorescent glow.

Slowly, deftly, with the touch of years of practicing, Lucus Simpson added the chemicals that would effect the alteration. It was simply another step in a long practiced process.

He knew the outcome in advance. It would, of course, be successful. He had nothing but success in the lab these days.

But he was growing restless. He wanted to move on. He was tired of rats and mice and microbes.

He wanted to experiment on man.

He smothered a grim chuckle, even though there was no one to hear, or see.

He knew of two perfect specimens. And how convenient! They'd been simply delivered to him, saving him the tedious business of trying to flush out a couple on his own. He'd known that should this ever happen there'd be no way to avoid having his daughters suffer some degree of contamination. That it had in fact happened was all too evident at the supper table tonight. It disgusted him! The way that smooth talking sonofabitch with his bushy beard kept making eyes at Carrie, and she back at him.

You'd have thought they were high schoolers on their first date!

Well, there was nothing to be done for it now. But he wasn't too concerned. The contamination was not yet fatal; they were still below the threshold.

Were he to interfere now, with the hard final brutality that he truly would have preferred, he feared that he might lose the girls entirely, if not in body then definitely in mind and soul.

No, perhaps he'd best play with them, let them think that he was softening, let them mingle openly with these… these outsiders… this disease that had stricken their world… let them think they were enjoying themselves.