Mark Golden: Kathy_s Young Mouth

Kathy Andrews hadn't had time to change her clothes after school. Her father, Mike Andrews, had picked her up at the gate at three o'clock, his sailplane trailer already hooked to the ten-year-old family camper. Kathy waved goodbye to her girlfriend, Janie, and stepped up into the converted bread van.

Kathy stayed in front with her father. His whole life, since her mother had died, revolved around glider competition, and the twelve-year-old girl loved to listen to her father's hopes for the contests they traveled to.

Mike unhooked the trailer as his daughter looked at her scanty traveling wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear. She knew that he would knock politely before coming in, so Kathy took her time. Kathy took off her long-sleeved blouse and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She saw she would have to buy a new bra soon-the bandeau cut into her skin and left a mark when she shrugged out of the straps.

She arched her back to make her firm titties stand out. Maybe Daddy would let me go without a bra completely, she mused. The little cones of her bosom didn't droop a millimeter. Pointed, perfectly symmetrical, each tittie could be mashed into a mound just the size of a half grapefruit. She brought her slim-fingered hands up and pressed her conical breasts into globes.

Kathy released the sensuous masses. She shook her head, and her long, ash-blonde hair fell over her shoulders. The soft ends of her straight, fine hair just brushed her nipples and the surprisingly large points stood up. They were pink as the inside of a strawberry.

Her skin was creamy-white, so clear that the little traceries of her veins showed blue under the surface. Kathy was just five feet tall, with a thin, studious face that lit up the whole world when she smiled.

Her eyes were deep blue and very round. The only makeup she wore was to accent her long, feathery lashes. Half-a-dozen freckles scattered across her thin, aquiline nose. Her pink lips were as level as her gaze at the corners, but full in the center, rising like a little bridge. Her teeth were white, straight as a ruler, and carnivorous little points showed when the little girl laughed.

Kathy unbuttoned the waist of her skirt and the zipper hissed silkily down. She hung the garment up carefully, thinking, I wonder why it's always so hard to get those ladies in the lingerie department to sell me stockings. I don't like pantyhose, I like real stockings. They're so much easier to manage when I have to wear them all day! She turned back to the mirror to look at herself.

She wore only her garter belt and stockings with her frilly blue panties. The black straps of her garters showed plainly through the Wedgwood-blue nylon. The day had been long, the drive from the city very hot, so Kathy slipped her panties down.

He's going to want to go to a restaurant for dinner tonight. Daddy always likes to do that the first part of a glider meet. He says going out makes him feel like we already won. I better leave my stockings on.

Her hipbones showed as Kathy turned herself this way and that in front of the mirror. Her garters curved over two small, round buttocks, like stripes of midnight on white paper. The dark, coffee-brown sheen of Kathy's hose made her long slim thighs look even smoother. Her skin gleamed, pale under the black lace of the belt.

Kathy stood still again, her under slung pussy rocked slightly toward the mirror. I hope I don't get much hairier down there. Hike the way it just barely covers the edges of my pussy opening.

She touched the downy curls. I bet it's almost half an inch long now. It feels nice, even if it isn't ns soft as the hair on my head. And it sure does make my pussy feel good!

Kathy felt her pulse accelerating. She bit her lip and grabbed a wraparound denim skirt. She felt a mysterious warmth in her loins that needed investigating, but not until she had more time. She heard a knock on the side of the van.

"I'll be ready in a minute, Daddy," she called. Kathy tied her skirt with flying fingers and grabbed a bulky pullover sweater. The knock sounded again as Kathy brushed long, fine strands of hair out of her eyes and opened the door.

"I didn't mean to rush you, Kathy," Mike Andrews said. "I've got to go talk to Milt Jackson, the technical inspector. Something about whether our plane meets the class requirements.”

"That's silly, Daddy! It always has before-you built it to fit the rules!”

"I know, baby, but somebody might have protested us. I'll be back in half an hour or so. Why don't you just stick close to the truck, arid we'll have a nice dinner in town when I get back, okay?”

"Okay, Daddy. Don't be long, please? I'm awful hungry." Kathy was suddenly aware of the gnawing feeling in her belly. She hadn't eaten since noon, and dark was falling around the gliderport.

The evening was cooling the sultry air as Kathy locked the van and walked around the trailer-parking area. She recognized many of the trailers by their distinctive colors or the owner's name painted on the sides. Long, narrow boxes sat in rows inside the impound fence. Late comers kept pulling in at the far gate, and the guard used a dim flashlight to find the entrant's parking slot.

Kathy enjoyed these weekends with her father. She shared his faith that one good year of flying could open new doors, perhaps getting Mike Andrews a job designing and building the sailplanes he loved.

It wasn't just the high hopes they shared that Kathy liked. All the people at the competitions were friendly, and Kathy and her father grew closer each time they traveled to a meet.

It might not go on much longer, though. Mike Andrews was an airframe mechanic, and the charter business he worked for was growing. He told Kathy that his boss grumbled now when Mike asked for time off to compete. At thirty-two, Mike looked three times his age when he told his daughter about having to give up soaring in competition.

Kathy brooded as she scuffed around the parking area. If Daddy doesn't win this weekend, we won't be able to go on any more long trips. The people at the little regionals are really nice, but he really should have a chance in the big contests.

She looked up, sensing a huge mass in front of her. That must be Bob Williams' trailer, I bet Daddy would win every time if he inherited a million dollars. We could afford a moving van full of spare parts, and three different gliders, too.

"Come on, Mary," Bob Williams said. "Milt's gonna be tied up with Andrews half the night. My crew's gone into town-nobody'll bother us.”

Kathy stopped in her tracks. She heard Mary Jackson giggle. The little blonde girl sneaked quietly around the back of the huge, sky-blue rig. The hair on her nape stirred and her tennis shoes crunched on the gravel. Heavy breathing came from just around the corner of the trailer.

"Just kiss it, Bob, no more. I love it when you suck my pussy," Mary said. Kathy bent down and looked around the bumper.

Tall, fair-haired Bob Williams touched one well-dressed knee to the ground as he skinned Mary Jackson's slacks off. The white of Mary's briefs showed against the crumpled denim. She lifted one tiny foot and kicked free of the cloth.

Kathy's eyes bugged out. But she's married! spun through her head. The twelve-year-old was astounded. She didn't know what Bob and Mary were doing. Her stomach fluttered like the cold dawns when she'd had too much coffee and no breakfast. The breeze shot up her skirt, and Kathy realized she'd left her panties in the truck. She crouched on her fingertips and toes, like a sprinter before the start.

Mary Jackson's puffy hairdo mashed out of shape against the big trailer. Her blouse was open, and her full, deep breasts quivered with her hot, shallow breathing. She pulled Bob's head against her pussy. The thirty-five-year-old brunette spread her round thighs wide. She half-stood against the moonlit side of Bob's massive rolling hangar.