Walter Ramsden - Doris and Dad

Doris knew when her daddy, Orville Hagerman, walked into the house from the garage she was in for it-again. He hadn't said anything, just stared at her, his pale eyes expressionless and unblinking.

A strange nervousness, not fear exactly, shivered through her as she stood over the kitchen range, listening to the tall, sinewy man complaining in the shower. What could he find as an excuse to spank her today? She had done the washing and had supper on.

"I'm gonna tan your ass-bare again," she heard her father bellow after he had turned off the shower.

"Phil never gets it," Doris said with a trace of bitterness, referring to her brother who was fifteen, just two years older than she was. "He gets away with everything."

She tried to ignore her father as he seemed to skulk in the entryway between the kitchen and the dining room. Warily, she glanced toward him from the comer of her eye. Her heart bounded uncontrollably as she saw him standing there in nothing but his boxer shorts, tufts of coarse, red hair visible through the slit.

"I'm gonna blister your ass," he said in a tone as if he had been defied.

"I haven't done anything," Doris said defensively. "I got supper cooking." From the bulge in his shorts she knew, intuitively, he was all swollen up.

"Come on in the living room," her daddy said, pointing imperiously with a long, hairy arm.

"Supper," she said.

"Turn off the burners and get yourself in there," he said, stomping a bare foot, shivering the floor of the old house.

"Daddy?" she pleaded. "Where's Phil?" She definitely didn't want him there like he was the evening before, just watching with feverish eyes as their father swept her across his legs, tossed the tail of her dress up and switched her panties down from her buttocks. It wasn't that her brother could see anything except the cheeks of her bottom, but it had been humiliating, having him watch her get a spanking. Not that her father had really hurt her very much.

"Don't fret none about him," her father said, following her into the living room, pulling the drapes and sitting in the middle of the davenport. "Come here, Doris-girl," he said. And she detected a strangeness in his tone, a tautness.

"Please, Daddy?" she whined, resisting the least bit as he took her left wrist and flopped her across his bare legs.

A strange heat flowed through her as she lay there on his thighs, passively, as he hauled her panties to her ankles. She tensed expectantly, waiting for him to start applying his big, calloused hand.

But Orville Hagerman wasn't ready. He unbuttoned her dress from the neck to the flare of her young butt. "Get up a little," he ordered roughly. She struggled off his legs and her dress was tugged off over her head, mussing her long, blonde hair.

Then she was shoved back down on his hard-muscled legs, a mingling of hot and cold chills-flushes flooding through her body. "Daddy?" she wailed as he reached under her and seized a tittie that a fifteen-year old would be proud of.

His big hand was strangely gentle on her breast and so was the one caressing up and down her lithe back and rubbing the smooth buns of her butt. Then he began spanking her, not hard, but crisply enough for firm smackings of flesh against flesh.

"You're like your mother," he said. "I can see it coming in you. You're gonna be boy-man crazy and will be dropping your panties and heisting your dresstail and flopping on your back for all of em."

"Daaaaaaaaaadddddddy," Doris Hagerman sobbed, trying to tense her buttocks, but his fingers probed into the deep, tender crease between her silky hillocks.

"I'm gonna wail your ass 'til it's so tender you won't be able to sit on the table," Orville Hagerman growled, again laying on his hand, bringing a hot pinkness of her milking skin.

In spite of her feeling of humiliation and fright, a seething heat began to grow between her tense straight-stiffened legs.

There was a hot churning in her flat belly and she tried to squirm away. But her father held her steadfast and she could feel a lumpy hardness under her. Doris knew she should feel a loathing for this abuse, but there was a swirling excitement in her head. He wasn't really hurting her, physically.

"You got a cute little ass," her daddy muttered, again rubbing the feverish flesh with a hard hand.

She sobbed convulsively, tears flowing from her tightly pinched eye. Then he flopped her onto the floor, on her knees between his. She stared at him mistily, sniffing. She was about to snip at him defiantly, but no words would come as she watched' him pop the three snaps that held the waistband of his shorts together.

Her blue eyes widened in dismay as he fingered out a long, thick column of flesh, "Daaaaaddddy?" she whimpered as he hauled back the foreskin and she stared at the ominous bulb of blood-gorged, deep purple head of his cock.

"Your mom liked it and I can tell you'll like it," her daddy said, voice strangely deep and musical. She tried to quail away from him, but he seized her dainty wrists and drew her nerveless hands toward that grotesque length of hard prick.

"Please, don't." Doris whispered, flinching as the tips of her fingers touched the hot, pulsing male-meat. In spite of her youthful aversion, her fingers curled around the thick shaft. A shudder raked her body as her father cupped his hands over the hard gourds of her bosom and he rubbed his palms over the tiny points.

"You're hot stuff-like your ma," he said gruffly; and her fingers kneaded the hard, blood-ridged cock barrel. She wasn't exactly naive, just inexperienced. She knew where the huge thing her hands were beginning to stroke went-right between a girl's legs in the hole that she sensed was so intensely dry and burning.

Quickly, her tears dried and she stared intently at the monstrous prick in her hands as she slowly worked them up and down, pressing the thick skin over the huge head with the gloating, glaring single eye in the very tip.

Feels so funny, she reflected. So hot and firm and so rough-like, with the dark blue veins. A spell of dizziness of unreality assailed her, rather pleasantly.

"Just like your mom," her daddy said softly. "You jack me off just like your mother. She loved to play with my cock. Give it a little kiss."

Doris started, a chill dancing through heir. "NO, DADDY!" But she didn't resist as he tangled the fingers of one hand in her satiny blonde hair and pulled her head toward his red-thatched lap where he had that monstrous thing and those hairy balls,

"Kiss it; lick the head of my prick," her daddy stormed, tugging her hair.

Timidly, she extended the tip of her tongue, tasted the warm-sweet, tangy flavor of soap and flesh. "Uuuuuummmmm," the teenager sighed, kissing the very tip with daintily puckered lips.

Unmistakably, an exhilarating excitement flashed through her. And she didn't think the virginal hole between her lean legs dry any more. Just hot, extremely hot. And wet?

Her father had his hand at the nape of her neck, holding her firmly to him. She extended a bit more of her tongue and let it rove over the super-slickness of the dark knob. "Uuuummm?"

"Yeaaaah! Uuuummmmm," her dad moaned. "Suck it, little girl. Taste how good cock really is. Get your mouth on the knob of my prick.

In spite of herself, she licked her tongue over the head, curling it around the savoring hot, sweet, soapy, salty, flavor of male fuck-meat. She drew a deep breath, sighed and opened wide. As soon as she did, he applied a little pressure and the smooth-skinned head of his cock raked past her teeth and she had prick in her hot, moist mouth.

She gurgled something, half protest, half pleasure as she worked her tongue on her daddy's cock in her crowded mouth. She closed her lips around the thick-skinned shaft and sucked gently, experimentally.