Bob Wallace: Daughter_s pony urge

Christine opened her eyes, blinked for a moment, suddenly remembering where she was. She still wasn't used to being at her father's place. She slipped out of her bed.

She quickly took off the girlish pajamas her father had brought for her regular summer visit and dropped them on the floor. She felt like a baby in them and whished she could sleep in the raw like she did at home. Her mother didn't mind; she slept in the nude, too.

She glanced at her long naked body. Tall for her age, the hint of the woman in her showed itself in the newly flared curve of her hips, the shaping of her long limbs. Gawky poles had turned into curvaceous legs that most woman would have given their eyeteeth to have.

Her fingers combing through her mane of blonde hair, she stared, through innocent eyes, at her blossoming figure. Her hands slipped out of her hair; it was tousled and thick, resting on her smooth slender shoulders, framing her creamy angelic face.

"You should see me now, Kenny Wilson," Christine moaned, pouting, "Your ol' cock would be sticking out a mile." Her cheeks blushed red; the erotic image turned her insides to mush. "Oohhh, Goddamn."

She squeezed her soft budding tits together, creating an illusion of voluptuousness. She squeezed the pulpy tit meat and looked again. Her gaze flowed down her slender body to the golden patch of cunt hair between her legs. She was proud of her muff as she stroked her nimble fingers through it lightly.

It had taken her longer than the other girls to mature enough to have cunt hair, with both of her parents blonde and light-complected. She cherished every strand of golden hair and hoped to have a thick growth by the time summer was over.

A quick spinning pirouette brought her to the dresser, where last night she had carelessly tossed her jeans. After slipping on a pair of bikini panties, Christine pulled her tight-fitting faded jeans up her slender legs and snapped them at the hip. She pulled up the zipper, glancing in the mirror at her small tits, not yet covered. She jutted them out, noticing the swell of the sweet tender tit mounds and round maturing nipples. She shivered with passion. She found her sexual desires growing more each day.

She grabbed a plaid shirt and slipped it on, tucking it in her jeans. She went to the window and surveyed the backyard, fields, and woods. It was a lot different than New York City, where she lived with her mother.

She liked it in the country and wished her parents would make up and get back together again. Visiting her father in the country during holiday vacations from school wasn't enough. She wanted to live in the county all the time, be with her father and mother at the same time – not be thrown back and forth like a volleyball.

She purposely left the top three buttons of her shirt open in the hope that her father would notice that she was growing up. She pulled sneakers onto her feet and spun on her heel, hurrying downstairs to be with her father. Her small titties jiggled underneath the summer shirt.

"Daddy! Daddy!" she called, racing down the wooden steps. "I'm up!" She searched the rambling rustic house, shouting for her father. "Dad?" No response.

She spotted a note on the kitchen table – knotty pine polished to a high gloss that matched the decor of the rest of the rustically furnished house. Raw wood. Heavy furniture. Comfortable. Cozy.

Christine frowned. "Damn, I missed him," Her father had already left.

Disappointment clearly visible on her face, she picked up the note. He would be back around lunchtime. She stuffed the note into her back pocket, grabbed a shiny red apple out of the basket of fruit on the table. Her teeth crunched out a juicy bite, the teenager went to the back porch for some fresh air.

She took a deep breath of crisp clean air, her wide eyes absorbing the beauty that surrounded her father's place. Quiet. Woodsy.

Christine broke into a smile at the sight of the golden retriever bounding happily toward her from the direction of the stable. His thick hairy tail wagged, tongue handing out, dropping out the side.

"Laddie!" she squealed, slapping her thighs nd crouching. She dropped to her knees, hugging the lovable beast, roughing up his fluffy coat, wrapping her arms around his large frame. Her small sensitive tits were crushed against his big body. "God, if you were a boy, you'd be creaming. Huh, boy?" It felt exciting – his strong body against her. "Maybe, if you're good. I'll show my titties to you," she giggled naughtily. Laughing, she turned her head, the dog's wet slapping tongue licked enthusiastically up her neck, over her pretty face.

Like a pup, Laddie whimpered. His fluffy tail swished, his cold nose nuzzled. He licked her affectionately, his bluish-red tongue wetting her scrunched-up face.

"Oh, God, your a real licker, aren't you?" She giggled and stood up. She patted her tits like she saw her father do to his chest to get the dog to stand up on his hind legs. "C'mon, boy. C'mon." She made smacking sounds with her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

Leaping obediently. Laddie pressed his front paws on Christine's blossoming tits, his tongue busily swabbing her face, his tail swishing in the air.

"Mmmmmm," she cooed, liking the attention. She scratched him behind the ear. "I wish you were Kenny Wilson from school." Laddie's tongue glided over her mouth. "Ooooo, I wish he'd kiss me like that."

She pushed the dog down, ran off the porch in the direction of the woods and the stream that ran through her father's property.

Laddie romped with her, playful and happy to have some one around. His tail never stopped wagging. He scampered ahead of the teenager, pretending to be cashed into the denser woods. He waited for his new friend, barking his impatience. Christine lagged a few yards behind.

"I'm pooped, Laddie." She dropped to the ground, propping herself against a tree. "Whew, living in the city is so different. Not like these wood. I don't think you'd like it any."

Laddie stood his ground, waiting for her to follow, his soft brown eyes looking at her expectantly. When she didn't budge, he barked, startling her.

"Shhhhhh, damn it. Let me rest."

She lay her head back against the tree, her eyes closing, ignoring Laddie's whimpers.

The golden retriever padded over to Christine, not the be refused. He licked her face again, hoping to stir her into action. Christine remained unmoved, her eyes still closed: she enjoyed his licking tongue.

Laddie grabbed her shirt with his teeth and tugged on her shirt sleeve. He shook his head, trying to rouse some attention, his teeth clamped on the material.

The teenager's eyes popped open. She frowned at the exuberant dog, tugging the shirt that snagged in his teeth. "What do you want?"

Laddie barked his answer, sprang a few feet ahead then stopped to bark again.

"Shit," she grumbled, hauling herself to her feet. She followed the excited dog a few hundred yards and stopped when he jumped into the lazy stream. Sparkling water splashed around him.

"Oohhhh," she said, understanding what he wanted. "You want me to go swimming with you."

Her gentle blue eyes danced. Walking to the edge of the stream, her gaze followed its winding course through the woods. A glimpse through the tree showed that the stream was coming from a small waterfall up ahead.

"Maybe I will take a dip." Laddie romped and barked alongside of his new playmate. "Shhhhh," Christine hushed him. "I don't want anyone coming around." As she flipped off her sneakers, she gave the exuberant dog a stern look.

The dog's hairy tail wagged furiously. He went over to Christine, grabbed her hand in a playful manner, tugging with his mouth.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she giggled, knowing what he wanted. She rolled her jeans up to her knees and went into the water with Laddie. "God, it feels good."