Cherry Charles - Delighted in his daughter

Pam Harper couldn't believe the strange sensations she had been having inside her pussy for the past week.

Tingling, itching, sometimes throbbing needs seem to surge through her loins at the slightest hint of sex or romance. And Pam wasn't quite sure in her fourteen-year-old mind what the difference was!

She knew, of course, what males and females did together. She'd seen the textbooks, but books are very dry and academic ways to really hear or learn about sex. In the case of Pam's experience, a much more graphic and direct route to being sexually educated had come the day she had overheard Betsy Meeker and Linda Walker talking in the girls' john at school.

Both Betsy and Linda had perfectly awful reputations, and Pam had wondered at the time if they would have gone right ahead with the obscene conversation even if they had known she was sitting in one of the stalls at the far end of the restroom.

"How was he?" Betsy slurred, her voice low and husky but perfectly audible to Pam.

"As good as you promised," Linda Walker hummed. "God, I thought that sonofabitch was going to suck me to death before coming up for air!"

Pam heard Betsy's lewd giggle. "You mean you actually got Dirk to eat you. Oh, wow, and I thought all he wanted to do was fuck!"

A crude shock had zoomed through Pam's body at the mention of Dirk Taylor's name. He was captain of the football team, and he sat right next to her in English class!

"He fucked me, too," Linda hummed again. "You didn't tell me what a big, hard prick he has. I think he made me cum three or four times before he got his own rocks off."

"He can shoot, can't he? He damned near knocked me off my ass when he…"

"Shhhhh! Somebody's coming!"

Pam had sat in the stall with her fists clenched tight and her face flushing with shame at the words her two classmates had bandied back and forth so glibly.

Pam had never in her life let filthy words pass from her lips. She knew the words: fuck, pussy, shit, prick, and so forth, but she considered herself much too nice a girl to ever utter them!

But Linda and Betsy seemed to be using the words as if they were as common as cat and hat!

After the person had left the john, Linda and Betsy had continued their lurid details of what Dirk Taylor could do to a girl.

"Did he try to make you suck him off?" Betsy demanded, impatiently.

Her friend snorted softly. "Yes, but I didn't."

"You didn't? You're slipping, Linda. Dirk just loves to be eaten. He probably won't ask you out again. He told me that he had even taught his little sister to suck his cock."

Linda gave a small gasp at that information. "He must have been lying about that, Betsy. Sandy Taylor is only thirteen years old!"

"I don't care if she's a midget from Borneo," Betsy purred, a grin in her voice, "if Dirk said he taught her to suck his beautiful, big peter, then I'll bet she does! Lucky little girl, if you ask me!"

"Y-you mean once upon a time you sucked on Dirk?"

"If you call last Wednesday night once-upon-a-time! We did it in the back seat of his car, at the drive in movie."

"Wow! How was it?"

"Listen, Linda, if you have to ask how it feels, then you don't really want to suck a boy's prick. I think it's just the greatest thing since horseshoes!"

"You're terrible, Betsy," Linda husked softly.

"Oh, yeah? Well, apparently Dirk Taylor thinks I'm pretty damned good. He's promised to introduce me to his cousin who's coming home on leave from the Navy. He said his cousin has a cock swinging between his legs that would make Secretariat look like a day-old colt!"

Linda chuckled wickedly as the two girls passed back out of the john door. And Pam heard Linda's last shameless words: "I'll take sloppy seconds on Dirk's cousin. They say a sailor does it better than anything on two feet!"

It had been a whole week now since Pam had overheard the lascivious conversation, and the day she had heard it had marked the beginning of her own problems.

That itching pussy.

The numbing, painfully pleasant tingling along the edges of her nipples until they were firm and perky inside the cups of her training bra.

It was driving her a little bit mad!

She couldn't quite get her mind off of Dirk Taylor!

And yet Pam knew deep in her breast that she could never be like Linda Walker and Betsy Meeker. She just couldn't turn herself into that kind of wanton slut. Besides, even if a boy like Dirk would do the most bestial things with girls like Linda and Betsy, he could never respect them afterward.

Pam had seen Dirk and other boys follow Linda and Betsy with their eyes as the two little whores strolled down the high school hallways, their breasts sticking sharply out under their tight sweaters and low-cut blouses. Pam had seen how the boys grinned and whispered to each other, making lewd comments on what they would do with either of the two sluts.

And Pam had also noticed with what politeness and gentlemanly consideration the boys treated her, especially Dirk Taylor. And she liked that, even if she knew she was missing something else in life. Something that came sooner to girls like Linda and Betsy than it did to nice girls.

But sometimes things do have an odd way of happening to even nice girls, and it happened to Pam one Saturday morning when she went down to have breakfast with her mom and dad.

"I told you the neighborhood was falling apart," Jane Harper was muttering to her husband as she dished his eggs into his plate.

Pam's father was paying very little attention to his wife, and he only put down his newspaper when Pam came around to the side of his chair and gave him her super nice, early morning, hello-daddy kiss.

"Hi, skipper," Bill Harper grinned, giving his teenaged daughter a light slap on her butt as he had done since she was old enough to toddle.

Pam smiled, then took her seat at the table.

"I don't even think you care about what kind of people move in next door," Pam's mother said, coldly.

Bill Harper sighed and glanced over at his worried wife. "Look, Jane, so some people move into the old Howard house right next door to us. They've got as much right as we have to improve themselves. Since you're from the Deep South, you ought to be grateful they're not black folks."

"Who moved in?" Pam asked, chewing at the edge of her toast.

Her mom gave her a helpless glance. "They're white-trash, that's what they are. And I don't want you having anything to do with the boy."

Pam's heart bounced once or twice. "How old is he?"

Her dad grinned and looked at his wife. "See? Your daughter isn't prejudiced."

"How old is the boy, Daddy?" Pam insisted.

"I'd say about seventeen, and Mr. Pauley has a daughter, too. About your age, Pam. Or younger."

"That doesn't mean you have to rush over and become friends," Pam's mother snapped. "I don't like the idea of this Mr. Pauley not being married."

"He was married, honey," Bill sighed, "his wife just divorced him, that's all."

"And so why didn't she take the children?"

Bill shrugged. "Maybe she didn't want 'em. None of our business, anyhow."

Pam took a small breath. "Do you think it'd be okay if I went over and met them, Daddy?"

"Sure, I don't see…"

"Definitely not," Jane cut in. "Not until somebody convinces me that the Pauleys aren't straight out of Tobacco Road!"

Bill Harper grinned, and winked at Pam. "Your mom is a real friendly neighbor. Well, gotta go to work."

"On Saturday?" Pam inquired.

Her handsome father pushed back from the breakfast table and came around to give both his daughter and his wife a peck on the cheek. "I got some extra stuff to do at the office," he said, "but I'll be back at noon and then we'll take that ride up in the State Park I promised you, Pammy."