Unknown - Daughter in Heat

Heather was already thinking about it, but not today. With her itch scratched, all she could think about was getting out and getting away, getting home, getting to her room, and getting Big Ben out of her night stand, the one that reminded her of Spike's cock.

Heather rode the bus home thinking about her mother and the changes that had recently come over her. Heather knew she was being pushed into sex. Her mother wasn't being subtle at all. They still weren't talking about it but actions speak louder than words, and the spermy dog-fuck kiss was the clearest action of all. Heather could still taste the dog's semen and feel her mother's soft tongue exploring her mouth, pushing sperm to the back of her throat. She could feel her mother's slimy pussy lips smashed and spread out on her thigh, smearing and sliding from knee to crotch, first one leg then the other with all those people crowded in to watch.

She wondered why her mother didn't end by standing on the arms of the chair to do her face. That would have been something else, a face fuck with a slimy beaver, her mother's slimy beaver, a dog-fucked slimy beaver from her own mother with seven grown men and women watching and taking pictures of a mother's pussy sliding over a daughter's face-over lips, nose, eyes, cheeks, chin, even the neck, smearing her face with dog fuck right from her dog-fucked pussy. And then, she'd move over the mouth and piss, not a squirt, a full-fledged piss, all of it straight down her throat. That's how it should have ended. That's how you make a statement. That's how you make a slut.

"Oh, god this bus is slow."

"What's your hurry? You got a hot date or something?"

Heather looked to the freshman boy sitting beside her, a neighbor kid who liked to carry her books just to be seen with her-Harold-Weird Harold. She said,

"No, I can't date yet. I told you that. I'm just sick of riding this fucking bus.

I don't think I can take two more fucking days. Next year, I'll have my driver's license, then no more buses for this gal."

"Wow, Heather, you said the 'F' word-twice.

I never heard you say the 'F' word before."

"Fuck, Harold. Can't you say fuck?"

"Guys aren't supposed to use words like that in front of a lady. Mom says…"

"Fuck your Mom. I'm not a lady, I'm a fucking slut."

"Wow, Heather. What happened to you? You were a lady last Friday."

Heather looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. They weren't and the bus was half empty with no one close. She thought for a moment, then said,

"Harold, can you keep a secret?"

"Sure. Want me to swear to God?"

"Yes."

He held his right hand up and swore to God. Heather checked again, then leaned in to say, "My mother sucked off a big dog on my lap and made me jack him off while she sucked.

He came in her mouth and then she kissed me with a mouthful of dog sperm. It was a long French kiss and I had to swallow all of his cum. While I was swallowing dog cum, she was wiping her spermy pussy on my legs from my knees to my cunt. [she pulled the skirt up to show him her cunt] And then, she stood on the arm of the chair and smeared her slimy cunt all over my face.

She face fucked me after a dog fucked her. Then she pressed her pussy hard against my open mouth and took a piss, a long piss that filled me up. When she was through pissing, she made me wipe her cunt with my tongue. That's why I'm no longer a lady. I am officially a slut, now."

Harold was still looking at her denuded pussy with his mouth wide open. Heather eased the skirt down and sat up. Harold looked up and said, "Oh."

Heather wanted to smile. She really floored him.

He still had his mouth open. She said, "So, how was your weekend?"

"Huh?"

"How was your weekend? Anything exciting happen?"

"No… Heather?"

"Yes."

"Did you really do those things you said?"

"Yes, swear to God. You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"No. I swore to God… Heather?"

"Yes."

"If you don't mind me asking, how come there's no hair on your vagina?"

"Ladies have vaginas. I have a cunt or a pussy-twat if you prefer. Would you rephrase the question?"

Harold looked around, leaned in, and whispered, "How come there's no hair on your pussy?"

Heather whispered, "I shaved it off."

"Can I see it again? I never saw one before."

"All right. You look. I'll keep a lookout."

Heather sank low in the seat and laid one leg on Harold's lap to make a good spread. She pulled her skirt up past her belly button. From her position, almost lying on the seat, there was no way she could serve as a lookout, but she was able to give Harold a good spread beaver to examine, which he was doing with her help. She pulled the lips open and fogged his glasses.

"Wow, so this is what a pussy looks like inside. It sure is pink. That must be the hole that babies come out through, huh?"

"Yes, but first a dick has to go in. Go ahead and feel if you want. Put your finger in. Go ahead. I'm not shy, not anymore, not after what happened. I'm a slut, now. You can finger-fuck my cunt all you want. I don't care who knows or who sees, so if you have the balls, just do it. Just reach under my skirt and finger my pussy. I won't be wearing panties anymore, so it'll be easy."

Heather watched him enter her with a tentative finger. He said, "Wow, this is nifty neato. Are you sure you don't mind? Does it hurt?"

"Don't be silly. You could probably get your whole hand up inside. Go ahead and try. Get your hand all wet and push hard."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Babies come out through that hole.

A hand is nothing. Do it. Push hard. Harder! Force it in… ughhh… more… ahhh, yes, keep on. It's going in."

"Wow, Heather, it's in all the way. This has got to hurt."

"It isn't comfortable. Make a fist… ah, yes, that's better."

"Wow, this is super neato."

"Make it super neato for me. Move in and out like a dick fucking, not much, just sorta jab the back of my pussy… yeah, that's it, little punches."

"Wow, this is weird, neato but weird."

"Just fist fuck me and don't talk."

Heather closed her eyes and settled in for a leisurely fist fucking while picturing Spike mounted over her. It was a delicious sensation and the rumbling bus only added to it. Through several stops to disgorge students, Heather remained with her eyes closed. If anyone saw them, she wasn't aware. Each time the bus stopped, Harold pulled her skirt down and leaned across pretending to look out the window. When the bus started moving again, he pushed the skirt up higher than before, feeling freely with his free hand until he was freely feeling up under her top.

He felt both tits after unhooking the bra, then pushed the top into her arm pits so he could see what he was feeling.

Heather stopped thinking about Spike and thought about being thoroughly felt up and fist fucked on a school bus by a horny thirteen-year-old brainiac who was a year ahead of his peers scholastically but two behind on social skills, but catching up fast. He was more concerned about getting caught than she was, so she turned her body over to his most capable charge.

After riding with a hand up her snatch for fifteen minutes and ten stops, he stopped to say, "Our stop is coming up."

Heather opened her eyes, set her bra straight, pulled the top down, and said,

"You'd better pull out. We'd have a hard time walking like this, and you'd have a harder time carrying our books.

He was reluctant to pull out and didn't start until the bus began breaking for the stop. Heather winced and said, "Ugggh… ow! Shit! Pulling out is harder on me than putting it in. Are you making a fist?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Is that better?"

"Yes, you moron. Come on, get your fucking arm out of my twat. We're here."