Frank Brown: Wild naughty daughter

Sally caught a glimpse of a naked woman with her legs spread as Mark tossed a magazine on the bed. He pushed down his shorts, bending over and showing Sally his naked ass before he stepped out of them and climbed on the bed. Sally found herself salivating as she remembered the taste and smell of Rick Johnson's ass. Mark lay face up on the bed, the dirty bottoms of his bare felt staring Sally in the face. He balanced the magazine on his chest, turning its pages with his left hand as he jerked en his rigid cock with his right hand. His cock looked huge, though nowhere near as huge as Rick Johnson's. Sally heard him moan and saw his toes curl. He strained upward, humping at his hand as he jerked himself off. His balls twisted slowly in his fat ball sac. Sally licked her lips, starving for a taste of her brother's cock. She clutched her pussy through her shorts and squeezed it to the rhythm of her brother's cock-pounding.

It took a minute, maybe two, and suddenly Mark was moaning as he spurted thick gobs of white cum on his tanned belly. His toes curled hard, and he himself against the bedspread sensuously as he milked out his load. As the spurts weakened, he dropped the magazine in his face and slowly moved his hand up and down his softening cock. He lay there about a half a minute after it was over, then threw the magazine off, reached for a Kleenex from the nightstand, and wiped himself off.

Sally was on her feet, ready to retreat to her bedroom, but still looking through the keyhole. She saw Mark put on his shorts again and lock up his magazines. As he turned toward the door, she ran on tiptoe to her room. She let him get safely into the bathroom and get the shower water running before she dared leave her room again. Then she moved quickly. In Mark's room, she dug in the wastebasket for the wadded Kleenex, that dripped with Mark's fresh cum. Her heart raced as she found it, and moments later she was back in her own room, locking her door, stripping off all her clothes.

She threw herself on her bed, stark-naked, her legs spread, her tits heaving at the ceiling. She pressed the wet Kleenex to her nose, rubbing some of the slimy male fluid into her nostrils, getting drunk on the smell of her brother's fuck-juice. She smeared some cum on her lips, tasting it. The cum might as well have been shot from Rick Johnson's cock, because it smelled and tasted identical to Rick's cum. She anointed her nipples with the slick fluid, then smeared some between her parted cuntlips. She mashed the Kleenex to her upper lip, just under her nose, so she could get high on the aroma of Mark's cum while she jerked herself off.

She spread her legs so wide that they hung off the sides of the single bed. The pussycream ran out of her, dribbling over her crotch and down her asscrack, moistening her bedspread. She bunched up three fingers of her right hand and forced them up her cunt. She wished her fingers were longer, harder, thicker. She longed to penetrate herself deep, as Mr. Lipman's cock had done. It was hard to believe she'd actually, finally been fucked. And God, had she! Her pussy was still tender, still slightly sore from the reaming Mr. Lipman's cock had given it.

She pumped her fingers in and out, getting them gooey and slippery with her fuckjuices. Even with the cum-slimy Kleenex pressed to her nostrils, she could smell her smoldering cunt. She couldn't think of anything that smelled more potent than her crotch when she got hot then she remembered Rick's jockstrap.

A half hour later, she was in the kitchen, setting the dinner table while her mother ladled soup into bowls. Her father sat at one end, of the table, reading the front section of the newspaper as Mark sat at the other end, reading the sports section. Sally couldn't wait another moment to tell the fantastic news.

"I got a job at Lipman's," she announced, and for a few moments there was dead silence in the kitchen.

Her mother was the first to speak. "Well, I'll be! Is that where you were all day, dear? You got a job at Lipman's? Well, I'll be!"

The woman appeared almost faint as she plopped bowls of steaming split-pea soup in front of Dad and Mark, who had both lowered their papers and were looking speechlessly at Sally.

"My stars, if I'd known I would have baked a cake," Mom said. She sat down, fanning her face with her hand. "A job at Lipman's! Wait till the girls hear about this!"

"How did this come about?" Dad said, sounding slightly suspicious.

Sally started to explain. "I was on my way to the church this morning to help Mom, and I was passing Lipman's, and there was George himself putting a sign up in the window."

"George?" Mom said, looking shocked. "It's disrespectful to refer to a man of Mr. Lipman's stature by his first name."

"He's always saying, 'Call me George', on TV," Mark said.

"I don't care," Mom said. "Around this house we will refer to the man as Mr. Lipman."

"Could we get back to Sally's story, please?" Dad said.

Sally gave them a sketch of how she'd been hired and how she'd spent her day being trained by Cleo. She left out all the best parts, however – the parts she was sure she'd never dare tell anybody. The moment Sally finished, Mom was on her feet again, quickly putting the rest of the food on the table, then running to the other room to make some quick phone calls.

"Doris, you'll never believe what my Sally did today!" came the sound of Mom's bubbling voice from the hallway.

"Sporting goods, huh?" Dad said. He shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth and burned his tongue, then quickly drank some water.

"Sporting goods," Mark said, a smirk on his face. "That's what she said, Dad."

Dad scowled at him and he started eating his soup.

"How did you end up there," Dad asked Sally.

"Like I told you Mr. Lipman put me there."

"I don't know," Dad said. "Do you think you can handle that department? I mean, what do you know about sporting goods?"

"All she needs to know," Mark mumbled as if to himself, and when Dad glared at him, he said, "I mean, George Lipman put her there, didn't he? And he should know what he's doing. It's his store."

As Dad continued to glare at Mark, Mark's words trailed off and he crumbled some Ritz crackers into his soup.

"I can handle it, Dad," Sally said. "I know I can."

"You'll be working part-time days, then?" Dad asked.

"No, full-time days," Sally said.

"Full-time? I don't know," Dad said. "That's a pretty stiff schedule for a girl your age to follow, especially since you've never worked before."

"I've worked plenty," Sally said. "Helping Mom at the church – sometimes all day long."

"She's right about that," Mark said. "If helping Mom at the church ain't like being on a chain-gang, then I don't know what is. Besides, Lipman's ain't too busy during the day – weekdays, anyway. Evenings is when it gets hot."

Dad stared at him in silence as if trying to communicate something to him by mental telepathy.

"They got two girls working in Sporting Goods, evenings," Mark added quickly, then shoved his nose in his soup and started shoveling it down, a silly grin on his face.

Mom re-entered the kitchen. "Doris is sick to death. I could just see her, green with envy on the other end of the phone, just because her Mary Anne isn't working at Lipman's too. Some women can be so childish it's sickening."

"I was just wondering," Dad said, "if maybe Sally isn't a little too young and inexperienced for this job."

Mom stared at him for a few moments, blinking like an owl, her face blank, as if she were trying to comprehend what he'd just said. Then she became very red.

"Hal Myers, I don't want to hear another ridiculous statement like that or I'll have you seeing a psychiatrist! This is the biggest thing that's ever happened in this family, an you're having doubts?"