Ron Taylor: Hot for dad

Betsy wasn't big anywhere. Her breasts were hand-sized lumps of rounded flesh, her waist narrow, her hips delicately flaring. She had good legs, and her father's refusal to buy her a car made certain they got plenty of exercise. Her face smacked of middle America, of hay rides and corn huskings and girls next door, but her types were a knowing blue that suggested how much fun the girl next door might be, on the right kind of hay ride. She had a dozen different ways of walking – candy striper on duty, high school girl scurrying to class, dutiful daughter in the company of parents – but as she moved toward the pool she gave Ed the standout, in her repertoire. Her hips moved in a frisky swaying manner that was sensual without being overly skittish, and she put her feet down daintily, as if she were walking across a floor full of eggs.

She stopped a moment on the edge of the pool, then dove forward, closing her eyes as she entered the water. She went under and arose in one graceful move, and when she surfaced she saw Ed standing on the pool's brim, watching her thoughtfully. "That was nice," he said. "You swim like an Olympic contender."

She smiled and went under again. When she came up, Ed was in the pool with her. Betsy wanted to swim into his arms, to wrap her good legs around his waist and feel his cock stiffen where it rubbed against the tight-stretched crotch of her bikini. She wanted to lock her arms around his neck, to stick her tongue into his mouth and keep it there till he had no choice but to suck it. She wanted him to feel her hard young tits pressed against his broad chest, to revel in the pliant suppleness of her body, to know that she could be his. God, she'd never wanted anyone or anything so much as she wanted that big cock she'd seen when they first met!

Trouble was, she didn't know how to go after him. If he'd been a boy her own age, Betsy would have been home free. High school guys were easy.

They liked to think of themselves as seducers, but she'd never been seduced. The scalps were in her belt, not theirs. But Ed Bogart wasn't a callow kid. He was a man, he'd obviously been around. Of course he had a breathy comment on catching sight of her body, but did that mean he was interested, or did it mean that he just had a good aesthetic sense?

She swam till her arms were tired, and then she climbed from the pool, lingering at the ladder. Her suit had contracted a bit, as it usually did when it was wet, and she could tell by feel alone that a generous expanse of her bare ass was on display to the man in the water. Let him look, she thought. Let him get the idea. She hopped onto the patio's stones, feeling them hot beneath her feet, and she shook the water from her body. Her tits were too small to wobble much, but anything was a help.

He was swimming on his back, and she knew he was watching her. Betsy smiled, going to her towel on the grass. She sat down and uncapped the bottle of tanning oil. Time for some sun.

Ed came out of the pool just as she began to smooth the lotion on her thighs, and she stopped abruptly. His trunks had his cock had been noticeable, it was now beautifully obvious. Even the stretchy nylon seemed to have difficulty stretching around his pecker bulge, and Betsy's cunt was wet – not only from her swim.

She gulped softly. Oh, shit, she told herself, a guy is a guy. In the dark they're all the same. Even with foot-long cocks? She had to find out about that!

Ed sprawled on the grass, stretching in the sun. Betsy eyed him. Forty something, eminently virile, definitely beddable. Would it really be so difficult? But he was Sibyl's father. So what? She and Sibyl had lust met. It wasn't as if Ed was an honorary uncle or anything like that. Betsy sucked in her breath, so that her tits lifted to their highest, fullest peaks, and then she reached behind and untied her bikini bra. When it fell away her tits remained high and youthfully uplifted, brown nipples arising to the occasion.

"What are you doing, Betsy?" Ed asked, sitting up. His eyes seemed to be fixed upon her tits as she rubbed them with oil.

"Oh, I thought I'd touch up my tan," she acknowledged, indicating the white flesh around her chest. Above and below she was a nice summery brown, but here the skin was a pale white, and the blue veins stood out in her small, milky-fleshed tits, making the nipples seem much browner than they really were. She flipped those nipples with her fingertips to test their stiffness. A tingle raced through her body at the fleeting contact, and she knew that her titties were ready for action. A shift of her thighs, bringing them together for just a moment, produced a similar tingle in her cunt, and she smiled with assurance. Rising to her knees, Betsy untied the knots which held up her panty. When she sat down on the towel once again, she was naked as a baby but infinitely more appealing.

She had a white strip round the loins, too, and her pubic hair was deceptively dark, almost black, a stunning contrast to the creamy texture of her skin. Sometimes Betsy wished she'd been blonde snatched as well as blonde-headed, and she often thought of dyeing her beaver, but today she was delighted with her image.

"It's a good idea," Ed said, standing. "I'm getting a dungeon pallor from being inside so much. I think I'll join you." It wasn't true. His skin had an olive glow, which Betsy thought was simply far-out. But she didn't contradict him. Not when he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and tugged them down in a fluid motion, which made his cock and balls dance into her line of vision.

Big, she thought. Even bigger than she'd imagined. Six inches of soft muscle dangling from a thick clump of pubic hair at the base of a perfectly flat belly, hanging between a pair of athletic, muscled legs, with a set of nuts bouncing like a miser's purse just beneath. Betsy was on her back, and her mouth tilled with saliva so swiftly, so unexpectedly, that she almost choked.

Betsy Pike took peat pride in being an aggressive girl, one who called the shots and took her pleasure where she wanted. But when she saw it finally, that cock of his, she felt pride dying inside her body. The sight turned her into a hungry bitch. She went onto hands and knees, crawling toward him, calling his name as she moved across the grass. One of her hands streaked out, grabbing his cock where he stood. He was still wet from the pool but he felt hot inside her fist. So fucking hot. "Please," she told him. "Let me have some."

"I thought that was your intention," he said smugly, unclasping her hand seemingly without effort. He was beginning to harden, thanks to the vise-like squeezes she had given, and even a semi-erection was marvelous to see.

Ed dropped to his knees beside her, helping Betsy sit up. "You're just a little girl with hot ideas," he announced. "I don't think you're ready for this."

"Ready?" Betsy exploded. She seized his hand and guided it to her pussy. "Feel me!" she commanded, making his finger a spear point and her gash the target. Her cunt opened to receive him, and she sighed tremulously as her cunt sucked at his finger. She was wet and squishy. He had an easy entrance, and he thrust deeply. Betsy moaned and her ass lifted from the grass. When she settled down again, his finger seemed to go even deeper.

He made no effort to to move his finger. Betsy took that as a green light, and once more she grasped his dick. It swelled as she caressed it, and she could feel his life-blood pumping into the shaft, making it thicker, harder, hotter, making it pulsate and hum with sexual energy. "Oh, my God," she said, looking down at the erection her hands were nursing. She thought of a better way to nurse it and, his finger still pumping politely in her cunt, she leaned toward him, her tongue shooting out in anticipation.

Once she'd touched him with her tongue, there was no turning back. Betsy's tongue was a red carpet for his dick and he rolled forward, into her mouth, coaxed by the graceful case of her sucking.