Walter Ramsden - Doris and Dad

She turned and quickly picked her way into the trees and through the cool bushes. She couldn't say just why she was following that man who, someone said, was in charge of laying all new pipe in the water system.

He was, not only big, but kind of ugly, she mused, straining to hear him rustling through the brush several yards ahead of her, pausing ever so often to tilt one of the two quart bottles of beer he had lugged off.

Her father would say the man was a horse-"hung like one"-with that long face, protruding teeth, ears that were so big they almost seemed ready to flap, sticking out from his head that way. And those bulging eyes that the thick glasses made appear even larger.

Doris shrugged. Maybe she was following him only because he was so different. She crept forward, not hearing him anymore. As she rounded a brushy turn in the obscure path, she stopped with a gasp.

The tall, hulking man with almost completely grey, straggly hair was not ten feet from her, almost facing her. He grinned, showing his huge teeth, made no effort to turn away, just cradled the two bottles in one arm while he held a penis like a radiator hose in one hand while a great stream of water hosed from it.

"Gotta get rid of some that beer," he said, grinning easily, almost smugly, almost apologetically.

"I'm sorry," the flustered Doris murmured, unable to turn away because she was totally fascinated by the size of his peter and his easy manner, no embarrassment or modesty at all.

"Well, hell, little girl-" what her daddy often called her-"come on up and get a closer look," the man said, waggling his limber piece of male appendage.

"No," she said firmly, resolutely. But she timidly picked her way toward him until she was standing no more than two feet from him, staring at his immense snake.

"Want to hold it for me?" the man chuckled, voice almost musical.

"HUH-UH!" she scowled. But her right hand stretched toward him limply, then she touched it just forward of his fingers on the thick, limber middle. "Golllleee," she muttered, running a fingertip tentatively over the smooth skin. She looked up at him and he smiled reassuringly. So it was okay and she curled her fingers around it, felt the thick skin sort of crawly as she moved her hand along it. Then she held it just behind the immense head and wiggled it this way and that way, spraying the ground.

In a minute he was finished and the man said confidentially, "Milk it down and shake out the last drops."

Doris laughed excitedly, shaking off his peter while taking a wary look back down the trail. They seemed completely alone. She laughed again, truly marveling at the size of his peter.

She was so absorbed in the size and texture of this mammoth thing sticking out of his open fly, she was only vaguely aware he had tossed away one of the bottles in the bushes and was slugging down half of the other one. Too, she was so intrigued she was hardly aware his huge left hand was caressing her back, rubbing down-giving her delicious cold chills-almost to the fanning out of her trim little butt.

Doris felt a boldness and easiness with him along with an indescribable sense of fright. She hardly heard him when he said, "I bet you are wearing pink panties."

"Huh? No, white, I think," she said, feeling a perceptible swelling in the shaft and a definite stiffening.

"Pink!" he disputed her.

She tossed him an impish glare, turned slightly, realizing she was turning just enough to put her bottom in his hand, and lifted the hem of her dress enough with her left hand, not relinquishing the hand on his cock she was stroking with his right.

"White," she said adamantly, letting the hem of her dress fall to mid-thigh and turning her attention back to her right hand that was now sliding back and forth on his prick as it stiffened and stuck straight out of his pants through which great tufts of black and grey hair were visible.

"Welllllll, let's move along up the trail," he said, turning, but not abruptly enough she would lose her grasp of his cock. She strode alone beside him, very close and he had the back tail of her dress up and his hand was on her bare skin, on her back, his fingers digging at the elastic band in the waist of her brand new panties her daddy had gotten to go with the new dress and casual-wear shoes.

He tossed away the last bottle and reached down and across her front to rub his right hand back and forth across the saucy faces of her upward jutting titties.

His touches everywhere were sending indisputably thrilling tremors down through her body all the way to her toes. They were especially sharp in the tips of her titties and right between her legs. "I smell you, Baby," the man said softly, herding her off the path into a shadowy glade that was grass-matted.

She sniffed. "You don't. You can't." But she wasn't sure and a sense of alarm jangled along her nerves, especially since he had gotten his fingers in under the elastic and he now had his big hand inside her panties and the palm seemed to span her entire rear end.

"You're not being nice," she ventured.

"Heck, you're playin' with my old walloper; ain't I got the right to a little feel?" he chuckled merrily.

Doris' shrugged, thoughtfully. He was right about that. And, by golly, her playing with his "old walloper" was having its effect on him. Just look at how thick and stiff it was getting!

She was unmindful of their stopping in deep shade. She emitted a soft squeak of protest as he started to sit, pulling her down on his lap. But she scooted to the side. Not because she feared his lap-it would interfere with her hands on his big dong.

"I'll show you some real fun and nice feelings, little girl," he said, maneuvering carefully so as not to impede her jacking him off, but so he could reach up under her short dress, get the band of her panties and skin them down her legs, off over her new shoes. She hardly noticed when he wadded them up and dropped them on the grass off to the side of her.

"Now you can have your play if you'll sort of He across my legs," he said, positioning her so her head was on his farthest thigh.

She frowned when he urged her to move her legs to positions he wanted them. Her fingers clenched into his rocky meat as he pulled her dresstail up around her waist and he scooped a big hand into her straddle, dwarfing her meaty little pussy zone.

As he gave her more and more pleasure, rubbing his hand over her hot little cunny-box, she drew up her knees and spread them farther and farther apart.

"You like that, huh, Baby?" he grinned as she got her heels against her dainty buttocks and gave him all the spread she could.

"An almost hairless pussy," he whistled softly, a big, blunt finger delicately, tenderly parting her outer labia and going right to her.

Alarm danced through her as he rubbed her wet little furrow and dabbled the end of his finger against the entry to her little-girl vagina. But he didn't hurt her. It felt terrific, the way he sort of wormed the end of his finger into her pussy, very slowly until she finally felt his fist against the rubbery surface of her vulva.

Her pleasure was so intense, she almost forgot to jack him offs just held his long column in both hands. Her fingers squeezed and barely dented the stony roundness of the dark-skinned column. She released it for a moment and it immediately flopped out, it was so heavy, to slap against her chin.

She quietly marveled at the way he could gently finger-fuck her while his other fingers were long enough to rub the smooth, rounded buns of her young ass. Again, she let his cock flop free and plop against her chin.

This time, instead of lifting it up, she moved her head out, turned it slightly and felt the slick tip of the monstrous knob against her lips. She could smell it, such a musky aroma. It smelled soooooooo tasty.