Susan Carter - Father knows best

But young Brian, after an initial collapse, felt the strength surging back into his body. He lifted himself off the sleeping woman and smiled. Things were working out much better than he expected. Going to a closet, he found a negligee belonging to the young grandmother and slipped it on. He also found a towel cap which he wrapped around his head, as if trying to dry his hair. Then he left the room, shutting the door, and went to the other bedroom, the one Harriet used strictly for sleeping. He pulled back the covers of the bed, climbed in, and waited. He knew Idrine would be along very shortly.

Idrine loved the park. She loved the smells of the fresh spring grass and the new flowers. The park was larger now, than when her mother had been seduced in it.

Two more blocks of houses had been torn down so the park could be enlarged, and in the heart of the park was a small amusement center. There was the usual carousel for the kiddies, and some slides, swings, and even a small whip. But what Idrine liked most of all was the shooting gallery. All the rifles had chains on them to prevent anyone from accidentally pointing them outside the gallery. There were twenty-two caliber rifles used for the most part, though there were also one or two air rifles. The air rifles fired BBs, but because of the pressure built up in them, they each had a slight kick.

Idrine had always wanted to fire one of the rifles, but her mother had forbidden it. She stood staring at the shooting gallery – at the moving ducks, the flickering candles, the swinging pendulum, and the multitude of targets that merely sat there, unmoving.

"Like to try shooting a rifle?" a voice asked.

Turning, Idrine saw Larry Hunter, standing next to her. Her hand had tightened on the red riding crop she'd held when he had first spoken, recognizing him, she relaxed her grip. She had no idea Larry was her father, though he was well aware she was his daughter. And perhaps it was this incestuous flame in him that made him feel more attracted to her than ever. He still loved her mother, and would have given half his fortune to marry the woman, but Renee still continued to refuse him. Yet he felt an equally strong lust for his daughter.

The girl looked a lot like her mother in many ways, though Idrine's skin was much lighter than Renee's. Renee continued tanning herself every spring, summer, and fall, which explained why she was always dark. Idrine didn't share her mother's passion for the sun, and as a result had flesh as white and clear as her grandmother's.

"Boy I sure would like to try a rifle," Idrine told the thirty-five-year-old man. "But my mother says I should keep away from guns."

"For the most part your mother is right," Larry told her. "But a little target practice with an air rifle shouldn't corrupt you too much."

The same hot blood that coursed through Harriet and Renee Pembroke circulated through Idrine's blood vessels. Though she was almost as naive about sex as her mother and grandmother had been at her age. She found herself strongly attracted to this man who would occasionally come up to the apartment she shared with her mother and give her mother money. Idrine knew her mother wasn't being paid for doing the same things her grandmother did with men – whatever that was – because Renee refused to allow herself to be alone with Larry Hunter. Renee was still strongly attracted to the man, and she knew she would succumb to his desire for her if Idrine weren't in the room, simply because she had a strong desire for him. Idrine had no idea why this man brought money to her mother, but she was glad he did, because each time he did so, it meant a new coat, a new dress, or new shoes for herself.

"Come on," Hunter told her, "I'll let you take some shots with one of the air rifles."

"Gee, I don't know…"

"Hey," he laughed nervously, feeling the heat building higher in his body. "It's all right. I own the shooting gallery. It's one of my many investments. It's all free. Come on."

Idrine shrugged. Why not! It would only take a few minutes away from the time she needed to get to her grandmother's house. She walked up to the counter of the gallery. On the other side a balding man Larry Hunter addressed as Phil loaded up an air rifle for the girl, pumping it up and handed the rifle to Idrine.

Larry stood directly behind his daughter, pressing his body against hers, helping her to hold the rifle, feeling the smooth curve of her buttocks fit against his thighs. He trembled, and so did Idrine. She could feel her natural father's hard penis rubbing against her through the layers of clothing they wore.

"Now," Hunter told her, "you just pick out a target, then look through the sights at the top of the barrel. Line the sight up with the target, then squeeze the trigger slowly…"

Idrine felt more and more excited with the pressure of her father's penis pressing solidly against her rectal cheeks. She found it difficult to concentrate, and though she had the rifle sights on target, she was completely unprepared for the kick when she squeezed the trigger. It sent her back into her father, and she could feel the shuddering cock rub even harder against her asscheeks.

"Relax," Larry Hunter said to her, "it's all right. The rifle kicked a little, that's all. Don't be so shaken up."

He guided her to the rear of the shooting gallery where there was a small door. He opened the door and led her inside. A small cot lay against one wall of a small, bare room. There was a sink built into another wall, and one lone wooden chair.

Hunter locked the door, while with his other hand he held Idrine close to him. She was leaning with her back against his front. Unlike her mother and grandmother, she did discuss sex to some extent with the girls in her class, and it dawned on her just what it was she was feeling.

The knowledge that a man's cock was pressing against her made her tremble even more. She put the package and riding crop she had brought with her down on the nearby chair, but still shivered.

Idrine's breath came in short spasms as she trembled in the man's encircling arms. She could feel the roughness of his slacks and the same roughness of his jacket as it rubbed against her blouse. Her soft flesh, where the rifle had pressed into her shoulder enjoyed the touch of his kneading fingers.

Larry's hand was slowly enlarging the circles until she felt his fingers touch the slowly rising slope of her tiny, lemon-sized breast. She shuddered violently as his fingers teased her flesh under her blouse, and then she gasped, almost as if in pain, slamming her deeply furrowed asscheeks back as hard as she could against the man's thick penis.

She felt him yield to a sudden irresistible urge as his hand moved further down, rubbing the tiny nubbin protruding from the small swell of her young tit. His hand closed around the firm, supple flesh.

Idrine gasped, feeling his fingers softly knead her nipple. He made indentations into the flesh under her blouse, and she could feel the heat of his hand through the material. His palm slowly ran up and down against the nipple.

When he gripped her nipple between a thumb and forefinger, the girl gasped again.

She should have taken his hand away. She knew that. But the young girl was enjoying it all so much, all she did was sigh and moan, rubbing her full, resilient buttocks back against the throbbing prick in harder, smaller circles, feeling the cloth of his trousers annoyingly block her from feeling the full thickness and solidity of his hard cock. Yes, she knew it was a cock. All the girls in school called it that, among other things.

Why she did it, the young girl would never know, but suddenly she was reaching back with her right hand, sliding it between their tightly pressed bodies, running her fingers appreciatively up and down the full, solid length of the man's stiff cock, feeling the rigid throbbing under her fingers.