Ron Taylor: Two hot families

"Fuck her, Daddy!" Dierdre chirped beside us. "Fuck her for you, and fuck her for me, and fuck her for Mom and David, too! Oh, give it to her! Shove that hard rod until the tip comes out her mouth! She can take it! She wants it! Give it to her good!"

She was still digging in her pussy, using fingers from both hands, and she watched us through eyes narrowed to tiny catlike slits.

"Fuck meeeee!" I took up the cry. "Fuck me, oh, fuck me, Daddy!"

I didn't know what I was saying. I saw Dierdre's eyes open wide, bulging like mine had bulged so often yesterday. I felt Alan tense, too, but I didn't understand why, for I really hadn't been listening to the words that came from my mouth. I just kept saying them, and I kept pouncing down on his dong, and suddenly he was squirting, deep inside me, the tip of his pecker spouting jism right into my womb.

Dierdre had given me my first pill at breakfast, so I wasn't worried about the consequences. And thank God for it, too! I felt, felt for the very first time in my whole life, a cock exploding in my cunt.

His cock, slamming up into me, pushing its way through the cum he'd already filled me with, eager to fill me with even more. I felt it leaking out of me as we fucked up and down, and my pussy hairs clotted with the spillover. I scooped up each time I rocked down upon Alan. And his cock was still squirting! I lost count of how many separate jolts of ejaculation vibrated through his tool, but I know that I had at least three distinct orgasmic spasms before he was finished and his rod began to go limp inside me.

"No, no," I protested, humping. "Stay hard. Fuck me a long time. Fuck me all day. Fuck me all night. Oh, God, just fuck meeeeeeee!"

"I'm sorry," he husked, "I'm not as young as I used to be."

And his limp rod began to slither out of me and there was no way I could keep him inside. The slipperiness of my cunt was too great. I slid back, and we were no longer connected, except by the trail of cum that stretched from the lips of my cunt to the base of his rod, like a bridge of milky snot. My pussy lips were all covered with jizz, too, big juicy drops rolling out of me in slow stately progression, and I sank my finger into the happy mess.

"May I?" asked a voice down between my legs. I looked and it was Dierdre, lying on her belly, her face only inches from my sloppy puss. "It looks too good to waste," she added, and she looked so cute, hands up, the fingers pointing downward, that I nodded. She thrust her face into me, and her tongue took over from my finger. It did a lot better job, too, I must confess. At least it felt a lot nicer. Jesus, I thought as she began to tongue me dry, I don't think I can ever be satisfied with just masturbating again. The other day I'd serenely decided it was the only way to fly, but I wasn't as old as I was the other day.

Alan lay back watching. He stretched a hand toward me, and I took it. His fingers were strong and warm, and they intertwined with my fingers, creating a daisy knot of affection. You might say that he and his wife were a little overly permissive with their children but every member of the family loved and cherished every other member, and, for this weekend at least, I too was a member of the Banks family, and I was loved and cherished too.

Alan slid closer, and I nuzzled my face against his smooth chest. He had small dark nipples and I knew from experience that he liked to have them mouthed, nearly as much as I enjoyed having my big pink ones mouthed. I didn't suck him right now. I was too tired out. I only grazed his teats with my cheek, felt them twitch and stiffen, then rubbed my cheek a little closer. His arm encircled me, came to rest on the side of my tit. We were still holding hands, and both of us were watching his daughter Dierdre suck cum out of my drenched cunt.

Then I heard footsteps crashing through the underbrush. I looked up, and David was standing in the glade with us. "Hi," I said. "You're just in time. Join the party."

David frowned. "Can't do it," he said. "Uh, I think you'd better get some clothes on and come back to the camp. There's a guy who claims to be your father, and I think he is."

"Oh, shit!" I said, sitting up. "You're kidding!"

"Nope," David replied. "And he seems pissed off about something. So I wouldn't waste any time if I were you."

The Bankses had their camp it was actually an old school bus, repainted in a melange of bright happy colors, with a barbecue spit and a chemical, portable toilet, and some of the other comforts of home; mostly they had each other, and that was comfort enough in a hollow, behind one of the high ridges flanking the river front. It was set back from the Ohio far enough that they didn't have to worry about the annual floods. I'd fallen in love with it at first sight. Just enough primitiveness and just enough civilization, and the best of company to be there with.

We came don the bank. Alan and Dierdre and me, and all of us were wearing our clothes and I was trying not to look as if I'd just been summoned out of a juicy three way on the far side of the hill.

My heart thudded lower and lower as we neared the camp. That was definitely my father's car – the Mercedes parked beside the Banks' station wagon and David's motorcycle. And the man standing at the converted school bus, talking to Connie Banks? Well, I knew him, too.

Oh, shit! I thought. All the rest of my life he hadn't cared a Goddamn where I was or what I was doing, and now, when I was really having some fun, for a change, here he was, big as life. I swallowed the angry impulse and went to him.

"Hi, Daddy," I said, unsure whether I should be friendly or aloof. It would depend on his response and I could play it from there.

"Hello, Barbara." Oooohh. Cold and chilly. "I thought you were supposed to be staying at school this weekend. What are you doing here?" He said it very straightforward, just a hint of glare in his dark blue eyes, but he gave the impression of trying to contain a great deal of righteous anger. Each word was spoken clearly and precisely, and that was a very bad sign. It was the way he always talked to me, and it made me ache to go away, to be somewhere else, so I wouldn't have to be spoken to in that tone of voice any longer. Maybe that's why he did it. To keep me at a distance. Well, it worked.

"It's all right," Alan Banks volunteered, stepping up to Daddy, offering his hand. Daddy shook hands with Alan, but his eyes were on me. God, there was such a difference between the two men! Watching them, I could pick up every vibration of the difference, too.

Alan was warm and open. He was about forty – I had never asked but if David was nineteen, Alan should be at least twenty years older – but he looked so much younger. He was alive and healthy, and warm, enfolding kindness seemed to radiate from him. While Daddy, thirty-six, stood there in his safari style leisure suit, backbone straight as a Prussian grenadier's, his body language displaying the cold, tense, withdrawn nature of him. Damn it, I thought, why did I have to be born into the wrong fucking family? Why did I have to be born at all, for that matter?

But Daddy hadn't always been this way. I could remember his cold mouth when it still remembered how to smile. I could even remember hearing him laugh, hearing him tell my mother, "She looks more like you every day, Barbie-doll," while his hand stroked across my pale blonde hair and I stood smiling, gloating, reveling in the knowledge that I was the loved, only child of two loving parents.

It had been different once, but there was no way to make it that way again. When Mom died, so did Daddy's affection for me. The last four years I'd been an orphan in every way that really counted, and I'd be an orphan the rest of mylife as far as Daddy was concerned. The handwriting was on the wall. I looked at him standing there, and I wanted so much to hate him. If I'd found a sort of primeval, innocent, sensual Garden of Eden with the Banks family, then Daddy was the snake who was about to fuck it all up.