Bob Benjamin - Daddy tastes so sweet

"Nobody sucks like you, Ratty."

"Feel my pussy some more."

Daddy's fingers crept slowly between my thighs. I rolled. Now I was on top-the way he liked it, the way he'd flicked Debbie. I felt his huge cock jerk, rejuvenating itself. It hung down, the tip lying sadly on the slipcovers, bare inches from the pink outer lips of my cunt. His fingers dug in, found, and began playing with my clit..

"Is it still soft, Daddy?"

"Softer."

"How soft?"

"Cotton. Motherfucking fleece."

"Put the head in," I cooed. "Just a little bit. While it's limp."

As if hypnotized, as if my voice had lulled him to sleep, Daddy lifted the glans and rubbed it against my wet vulva. My head started to spin. My tits grew taut. I could feel the tiny aperture mouthing my hard little soldier. His dick started to rise, to grow fat and rigid once more. I moved imperceptibly. Another fraction went in. I looked down. Most of the head was buried. My pubic hair surrounded it. And I could feel it beginning to pulse inside my sheath.

"Kiss me, Daddy." He obliged. It began slowly-a soft, tender joining of lips-but quickly became a passionate mashing of mouths, searching tongues. I felt his hands on my ass once more. Gripping. Spreading my cheeks as he pulled me onto the shaft. The head of his cock ground its way to the feathery inner lips, paused to grow. I gasped. He was fucking me. His dick was expanding to magnificent proportions inside me, and he was willingly, anxiously, pulling me onto the spire.

Breathless, I tore my lips away and buried my face in his damp, dark curly hair. "Do it, Daddy," I whispered. "All the way. Yes. Yes. Oh, yes!" I brought my knees up close to his ribs. My hips moved. Now I could feel the hot bloated tip probing the inner sheath… close to the elastic like barrier… climbing… climbing. "Fuck me," I whimpered, pressing down, feeling It slide snugly up my vagina. "Fuck me! Fuck me! F -f-fuck meee."

"Katty baby." Again Daddy kissed me. His fingers dug cruelly into the tender halves of my ass. He, too, began to move, boring closer and closer to my maidenhead. Stretching the tightness. Busting me open in the most delicious way.

I moaned and panted my lust against his wet open mouth. His tongue covered mine, slid around, under. His hard dick shot flame through my belly. So close. So maddeningly close! I moved slowly. Down. Down. Making it fill and tear and love my tight little hole. Then abruptly his stiff cock was gone from the mouth of my pussy, and I felt the fat head, now full blown, boring hard up my ass.

"Nooo!" I wailed, tearing my lips away, pounding his chest, trying to wiggle free. I struggled. I twisted. All to no avail. For the entire head had entered my rectum with the first mighty tprust. Another planted half the long shaft. The next set the roots flush.

"Fucking Daddy!" I yelled.

He laughed.

"You… you… ohhhhhhhhhhh!" I was furious. Even mortified. But my hungry hips were going all by themselves, grinding around and around, up and down, and my shitter, all soft and gooey inside, was nipping the swollen torpedo while my vacated pussy hung there wet and forlorn.

Oh! That fucking Daddy and his assholes and faces! I thought. He had come that close to disintegrating my cherry. Yet again the next day I would face the world with the utterly unfeminine thing-stretched like a dumb trampoline between the outer and inner emptiness-intact.

I wanted to cry. To rip the hair from his heaving chest. To gouge his eyes. Instead, I tongue kissed him again and worked my plump little ass around and around and up and down and sideways and forward and back… with all my might.

Next day in class, no sooner had I walked through the door, Mr. Hotsy Levine placed me up front. I sat in line with his desk. All morning he oogled my micro-mini, reddening at intervals, hands out of sight. Poor Vie! I thought, looking back at him now and then. He sat four rows away. Grim-faced. Staring bleakly at me because not one of the girls seated around him was worth the effort of dropping and retrieving the pen.

When the midday bell finally rang, setting the kids in motion-a rat race for the door-Vic leaped from his seat and caught my arm before I could leave the aisle. "I was thinking… ah… maybe we could have lunch together?"

"I'm not very hungry," I told him, standing close, and watching Mr. Levine out of the corner of one eye. I was by now determined to find out what the horny cocksucker had been doing under the desk all morning. I figured there'd be quite a puddle of cum on the floor, if he'd been doing what I suspected.

Vic's hand slid up my arm. His thumb brushed my breast. "Then how about… ah… after school? We could… ah… we could take a walk and maybe stop for… um… for a Coke or something?"

"Or something." I eyed the cloakroom.

"Gee, Kathie… you mean it?"

Again I glanced at Mr. Levine. He was bent over papers on the desk. I touched Vic's fly; a fleeting gesture of acceptance, a promise.

After Vic had gone, leaving me and Mr. Levine alone in the classroom, I approached the desk. He was indeed groovy; Daddy's height, but with brown-blond hair and sideburns, trimmer of build, and with long manicured fingers I could almost feel digging into my cunt. He glanced up at me with a guilty look in his gray-blue eyes.

"Something, Kathie?"

I moved closer to the desk. "I was wondering if maybe you could help me with a grammatical problem. It's sort of tricky."

He straightened in the chair. Now I could see his lap. The front of his pants were wrinkled and a semi-hard-on bulged along the left leg. "Most certainly, dear," he said. "I'm always happy to see my girls, my pupils, that is, take an interest in the structural intricacies of language."

I'll bet! I thought, moving closer still. I'd been right, I knew. He'd been whacking off all morning-eyeing the cunts across the front of the room and shooting off gobs of semen under the desk. My pussy twitched. I was becoming more and more like Daddy-more and more insatiable.

"I'm writing a book," I told him, propping my elbows on the desktop, butt up thrust, igloo breasts hanging down inside the low-cut dress. I watched him blink and try not to look at my nipples. He busied himself rearranging things on the desk. He looked toward the windows, the hall. But the thing in his pants leg was growing, I could see, and, no matter where else he looked, no matter how hard he tried, his furtive eyes always sneaked back to me.

"It's all about sex," I continued, eyes wide. "The book, I mean. It's sort of a diary. My experiences and like that. But now I have an Italian character and can't for the life of me think of the wop word for cock."

"Coc… cock?"

I nodded. I could almost see the wheels grind to a stop inside his head. "I was thinking maybe wang. But that sounds sort of Chinese-don't you think?"

Mr. Levine flew from his chair, to the door closed it, drew the shade, and stood staring bug-eyed at me. I glanced casually back over my shoulder. I hadn't changed my position. From where he stood, he could see up under my micro, I knew. I shifted my hips.

"My God. I can see your… your ass r-r-right through t-t-the panties. C-c-crack and all. Ccunt. Hair." He came slowly back to the desk, stopped close behind me, stared.

"Does it make much difference what I call it?" I asked, enjoying his discomfort. "A dick, I mean? I don't want to offend anyone."

"You're… you're only a baby."

"But you like me, huh?"

"Sweet Mother of ever-loving God. What're you saying?"

"You can touch me back there. All over."

"No! I… I'm your teacher. You… you're entrusted to my care. I'd be lower than… than… if…"

I lowered my tits to the desktop, offering my rump. "You've been looking all morning. I bet you know how many hairs every fucking girl in the front row has on her twat."