Ron Taylor: Hot for dad

There was a mirror on her dresser and she saw herself in it: the red hair, coarse-toned but soft to the touch; the freckles; the opaque green eyes; nose up-tilted, chin small and blunt; the body. She hated to see her body because it was so meager. Her tits were baby-sized cones, tipped in pink and her belly soft and rounded, a pillow of peach-toned skin culminating between her thighs in a puff of reddish curls. Like most natural redheads, Sibyl's pubic hair was sparse, barely sufficient to cover the folding lips of her gash. She turned around. Her ass was slim, almost skinny, though it swelled from her backbone at an angle that nearly approached provocative. Her legs were sturdy, but they'd never be cast in a pantyhose commercial on television. She was a loser. Who could ever look at her and feel desire?

Oh, God, who would want to? Desire was evil. Something that must be fought constantly. But she didn't desire anyone, and no one hungered after her. She was safe. Sibyl threw herself onto the bed, her hands searching automatically. One closed around her breast, the other touching the furry knoll between her legs. She moaned aloud at the unfamiliar contact, though it became more and more familiar as the seconds ticked by. Her nipple engorged between her fingertips and her palm grew damp with nervous sweat.

It was Daddy's fault. He'd betrayed her. He'd ruined every dream and illusion she had about him. He was nothing but a rutting beast. She could never love him again.

And why had he chosen Cheryl, of all women, to be sinful with? A brazen, busty slut with the morals of a bitch in heat. What had attracted him? Her availability? Her full-breasted, full-hipped figure? Sibyl stroked her pussy with harsher, harder fingers, one of them slipping inside almost by accident. She moaned and whimpered to feel the nail scraping her slick, wet cunt, and her lips seemed bone-dry. She licked them but it didn't help. Her forehead was warm; tight, too, as if a leather band were being tightened round her head. Oh, God, Sibyl thought, help me!

Her finger plunged deeper into her cunt. She was so tight in there. Her finger wasn't much larger than the vaginal tampons she preferred. Nothing bigger had ever been inside her cunt. Sibyl closed her legs upon the masturbating hand, curling up on the bed. She lay on her side, sobbing and frigging. Her tummy heaved and her tits felt as if they'd burst into flames. She hated herself, for what she was doing, but she hated her father even more. He was no hero. He was only a bull. "He fucked Cheryl," Sibyl said aloud, ramming her finger into her tight little pussy. "He fucked Cheryl!" She had never said that dirty word aloud before, and she repeated it half a dozen times, testing it on her tongue. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck," she said, as if it would relieve the anguish and anxiety which beset her like a lead bedspread.

Would she have liked it better if she'd caught Daddy doing it with anyone else? Was it Cheryl, or was it the fact that he had sexual urges and expressed them sexually? Was she angry, was she disillusioned, or was she [missing text]?

"Why did he do it with her?" she said aloud. "Why? Why couldn't he – if he had to fuck someone – why not…"

Sibyl screamed as orgasm struck her head-on. Her pussy exploded, hot, wet flesh melting around her stabbing finger, and the muscles of her straining body collapsed. She didn't know if her father might have returned from the store. Could he have heard the scream she made at the moment of orgasm? What if became up to investigate, if he caught her now, with her body naked and her finger thrust into her snatch? She didn't care! Let him look! Let him see that his daughter was grown up, that she didn't need him anymore! He could be no more saddened, disillusioned, hurt, than she was, and she wanted him to know that special agony.

Betsy Pike knocked on the front door but nobody came to answer, so she turned away, towel slung over her arm. Her bottle of tanning oil was wrapped up in the towel, while her thigh-length beach jacket shielded her bikini from snoopy eyes. Sibyl was probably out back, by the pool, soaking up some sunshine, and that's exactly what Betsy was here for. She liked being tanned, all over, if possible, but it was such a bitch at home. What with Mom and the neighbors whose backyards fronted on hers, she couldn't very easily spread out a blanket, strip to the goodies, and let herself bake languidly in the sun. But up here, on top of a hill, it should be okay. If Sibyl didn't get all flustered. The girl was cute and sweet, but she seemed to have a problem about sex and bodies and all the other good stuff.

Betsy went around the house, easing through the hedge. Just as she remembered. Big patio, medium-sized pool, full of blue-tinted water. Mmmmm, she could feel that cool water dripping from her skin already. She stepped forward.

"Sib!" she called lightly. "You out here?" Betsy heard a noise and she turned to the back of the house. A man was coming out. A man? she thought. Spell that M-A-N! God, he was gorgeous! Well over six feet, muscles where he ought to have them, a devil-may-care face that smacked of romantic adventure. Broad chest, big hands, small tattoo on one arm. Her eyes roved down his advancing form and she felt saliva flowing in her mouth.

Jesus Christ! Betsy's mind shrieked, halfway between prayer and commentary. The man wore only a pair of red bikini shorts, skimpy, form-fitting and such a form! Only yesterday she, had been wondering where all the really big dicks were. Yes, she thought, there really is a God.

His swim shorts were as tight as if they'd been painted onto his body, and they hid nothing. She could see the enormity of his cock and nuts. Even now, limp and relaxing, his dick was something to dream about. It curled like a snake at his loins and it seemed to have no discernible end. Betsy felt a weakness in the pit of her stomach and she wondered if this was what the moment of true love was all about.

"Hi," he said in a deep, resonant baritone voice. All man.

"Hi," she croaked. "I was looking for Sib. Uh, I'm Betsy. We, uh, we're candystripers together, at the hospital, y' know, and she invited me to come up for a swim, and it was my day off today, so…"

He smiled, showing a mouthful of good white teeth. "Sibyl's at the hospital today," he apologized, and Betsy groaned.

"Oh, hell!" she said angrily. "Why didn't I think of that? I should have called first. God, I am such a fu-dummy!"

"It's all right," he said. "I'm Sibyl's father. Call me Ed, though." He smiled, offering his hand. Betsy thrilled to the male strength she felt in him. "Now, why don't you go ahead and have a swim, if you'd like? I'm just delighted to hear Sibyl is making friends."

How could Betsy refuse? She didn't even want to. As they walked toward the pool, she said, "Sibyl tells me you write books. I'd love to read one. One of yours, I mean. I'm not very intellectual, but when it's by someone you know…"

"I just finished a new one yesterday," Ed smiled. "Typed THE END, let off some steam. Today I'm taking it easy. Figured I might as well get some use out of the pool. We've been here two or three weeks, and I've only been in a couple of times."

Betsy nodded, spreading her towel on the grass at the edge of the patio. Off to the side some judiciously thinned trees cast an arrow of shade in her direction. She straightened up, unzipped her jacket, and cast it aside. She didn't miss the soft "Whew!" Ed made involuntarily at his first glimpse of her in the flesh, so to speak.

She was mostly flesh. Right now, at least. The bikini she had picked out was the one Mom wouldn't let her wear to the town's pool because it was so skimpy. All her bikinis were bitchin', but this one was the trashiest. A vivid purple, it consisted of little patches of nylon which molded round the ends of her boobs and a tiny panty that just covered her bush in the front and dipped low, low, low to display the upper crack of her ass. She hadn't counted on modeling it for Sibyl's daddy, hilt if he wanted to look, she wasn't about to blindfold him.