William Carson: Daughter_s hot pants

"Oh, Rick," she moaned to him as he fell atop her, limp, exhausted, "that was so fucking great! I've never felt anything quite like it. It was beautiful."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

He caressed her soft young body with his strong hands and thought of all the chicks he had fucked in his life. He smiled and thought of how this one was as good as any of them.

Later that day after Rick left the orphanage to go home. After Marcia ate a dinner which she could not concentrate on because all she could think of was Rick and fucking, the young girl got a message that Mr. Warren, the superintendent, wanted to see her. She made her way dreamily through the halls of the orphanage, thinking of how warm and glowing she felt, thinking of how she couldn't wait until she was fucked again. Finally she came to Mr. Warren's office. She knocked on the door and entered.

"Marcia, I'd like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Morgan."

The middle-aged couple stood and smiled at her and they all shook hands.

"The Morgans have taken in foster children in the past, Marcia, and they'd like to have you stay with them for a while."

Marcia was shocked for a moment. She had been taken in by other foster families, and briefly wondered what this one would be like.

"We were looking over the file on you, Marcia," Mr. Morgan said to her, "and you look like just the kind of young girl we would like to have stay with us for a while."

"Oh, uh, thank you, Mr. Morgan. I'm sure I'll like you, too." Mr. Morgan looked to be around forty years old, a very handsome and distinguished forty, and Marcia suddenly found herself wondering what it would be like to feel him naked atop her and pounding his prick into her.

"We have two children of oar own, Marcia," said Mrs. Morgan, a tall red-headed woman who somehow seemed to resemble a bird.

Marcia said nothing for a moment, then smiled inwardly and asked, "Are they boys or girls, Ma'am?"

"Well, here's your new home, Marcia," Mr. Morgan said as he pulled into the driveway of a moderately sized, split-entry, suburban home.

"You have a nice house," she said. "Thank you, Marcia," Mrs. Morgan replied. "I'm sure you'll like our children too. Peter is just about your age, and Tina is only a year older."

"I'm sure we'll get along fine."

Marcia found herself hoping she and Peter got along especially fine as she got out of the Morgan's station wagon and was ushered into their house. She wished Peter was a little older, but, she decided, he was definitely old enough. She had been wondering how handsome the young boy would be, and as they entered the living room she got her first look at him as he lay back sprawled on the couch. She realized that he was even better looking than she had hoped.

"Peter, this is Marcia," Mr. Morgan said.

The young boy climbed slowly up off the couch and gave Marcia a good looking over. He extended his hand and smiled at her. "It's nice to meet you, Marcia."

"You too, Peter."

The young girl felt herself growing flushed with warmth as she admired Peter. He wasn't very tall, but he was very muscular for his age and had short blond hair. He was dressed in cut-offs and a tank top and looked very much like a jock.

"Peter, why don't you show Marcia her room? Your mother and I have some things to do."

"Sure, Dad. This way, Marcia."

She followed the boy down the hall to the last door on the right.

"Here's your room," he said, opening the door and pointing inside. "Where are your things?"

"Oh, I left them in the car."

"I'll get them later. Are they in the truck?"

She nodded and entered the little room which consisted of little more than a bureau and a bed. She looked longingly at the bed and wondered how long it would be until she had somebody between those sheets with her. She sat down on the bed and looked up at Peter, who leaned against the door jamb, looking down at her.

"Peter, why do your parents take in foster kids?"

He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Dad says it's a nice thing to do, but if they didn't pay him to do it, I doubt if he would."

"It sounds like the same reason most people have."

"Yeah. Have you been in many other homes?"

"A few. Not too many."

The blond-haired boy glanced behind him and down the hallway. "Hey, Tina, come here. Meet the new addition."

Peter stepped into the bedroom and glanced around for someplace to sit. He glanced at the bed and then at Marcia. The young girl boldly met his gaze, then patted the bed beside her. Peter actually blushed at her, but sat down anyway, as far away from her as he could.

"Marcia, this is my sister, Tina. Tina, Marcia."

The young girl standing in the doorway was a smaller version of her mother, tall with long red hair and practically no tits to speak of.

"Hello, Marcia," Tina said. "I, uh, I have some things to do." She quickly disappeared from the doorway.

"She's kind of shy," Peter told her when they were alone.

"I guess so. Are you?"

"Am I what?" he asked, refusing to meet her gaze.

"Shy!"

"Oh, un, no, I guess not. I'll go get your things out of the car."

"Thank you, Peter, that's sweet of you."

"Uh, sure. Anytime."

Marcia wasn't certain, but the young boy actually seemed to be blushing as he fled from her bedroom.

Later that warm Sunday, Marcia was outside in the backyard, alone. Peter and his parents were gone visiting relatives and Tina was locked up in her bedroom, doing whatever she did in there. Peter had told Marcia that his older sister spent almost all of her time alone in her bedroom, reading or painting or just listening to music.

Marcia thought about her new family as she walked vacantly about the yard, soaking up the sun. Most of the backyard was secluded by a tall hedge and she suddenly felt an urge to remove her tank top and let the warm sun shine on her naked tits.

"I suppose it won't hurt anything," she said to herself, and quickly whipped off the striped top.

She leaned back on the grass and sighed at how nice the sun felt beating down on her hard nipples. It was making her horny and without really thinking about what she was doing, she raised a hand up to her tits and slowly began playing with them, pinching the nipples and rubbing back and forth at the soft flesh.

A slow spasm of warmth swept between her thighs and landed in the hot hunger of her pussy. She thought of how nice it would be to have a handsome young man here with her, a young boy with a beautiful cock who could caress her with his mouth and hands until she could bear it no more. She thought of how it would be to spread her thighs beneath the sun and have him climb atop her and bury his prick in her cunt to the hilt. She thought of how good it would feel to fuck.

As if moving on its own, her hand went to the frayed waistline of her blue jeans and slowly opened them up. She reached inside and was not at all surprised to find that her panties were wet with lust. She reached inside the soft sexy material of her underwear and played with her warm pussy-mound. She spread her thighs and gently slipped a finger into her fleshy, hair-fringed pussy.

A spasm of electricity jolted through her soft young body as her finger brushed against the little button of her clitoris. She humped her finger even harder again her little joy-button and closed her eyes, feeling only the warmth that was within and all around her.

"Go, go," she murmured, pretending she had a lover with her.

Marcia lost herself for long minutes while she played with herself and felt the orgasm build up inside of her. She felt as if she was right on the edge of some giant cliff, about to go over. She came closer and closer to cumming, and just as she fell her climax about to explode inside of her, she heard a low, masculine voice laugh and call out a greeting to her.