Jewel Breckenridge - Daddy_s little girls

And then suddenly she stopped, apparently out of ideas how to perform, and moved slowly in a circle, lewdly bouncing her breasts and jiggling her voluptuous buttocks. After teasing her flattened hands up and down over her entire naked body, she stopped again, her back to the water and her father, legs spread wide apart, and bent to the ground to touch her toes, staying in the lewd position to let him see the entire length of her still virginal young cuntal slit and the tempting circle of vaginal pink set in the soft blonde pubic curls. Indeed, to let him see anything up between her legs that he wanted.

The precocious teenager reached slowly back behind her naked buttocks and began teasing around with her fingers again, still bent with her upraised buttocks before him, opening and closing the fleshy, reddish lips of her pussy, hotly worming her middle finger into her little virginal vagina and quickly pulling it out to tease the tiny hardened bud of her clitoris. The whole excited region up between her legs glistened now from the moisture of her flowing vaginal juices, and she turned for a second to look back over her shoulder.

Roger tried to look away and watch the waves, to study his wife on her blanket, to let his eyes roam over the beautiful rocky beach, but it was no use, he returned his gaze to his daughter's teasingly lewd play just as she pulled both hands away from her naked little vagina and, as though pondering on what to do next, looked down at one hand as she extended the middle finger straight out. Where had she learned all this? She put the finger in her mouth to lubricate it, and then waved it in the air as though it were a threatening instrument. Then she brought it around slowly towards herself from behind – at the same time carefully spreading the round-white ass cheeks of her luscious buttocks with her other hand to reveal the dark secretive ring of her tiny anus. Christ, what was she going to do now. As she brought her finger before the small puckered opening she held it suspended suggestively there, widening the spread of her ass-cheeks still more with the other hand, and she seemed by a force of will to make her entire girlish body relax in order to facilitate what would follow. She pressed hard on the finger until the small resisting anal passage was ready to give way.

All at once she stuck the finger brutally into its full hilt up her exposed rectum, her hands slapping the cheeks of her buttocks with what looked like a resounding smack, and it must have hurt for she gave a little cry. Perhaps she hadn't done it before, perhaps she'd only heard about it, or… seen it? Had she been watching some pornographic movies? Whatever, she seemed to be adjusting rapidly to the lewdly violating finger, for she placed her legs even wider apart until it seemed her young upturned buttocks would split – and begin to slowly pull her finger out, twist it, push it back in, twist it, pull it out, twist it, in a lewd rhythmic motion. It seemed to hurt her or to require great effort, for her nakedly curvaceous body was frozen motionless except for the sodomizing middle finger. Yet – for still more punishment – she now forced in a second finger as Roger watched with astonished eyes the nearly microscopic little anal mouth stretching helplessly to allow this double-finger manipulation.

And then an incredible thing happened: his thirteen-year-old daughter Ellen, began to toss her long blonde hair, and to shake her shoulders crazily as though freeing herself from painful sensations, as though beginning to enjoy this forbidden pleasure. She turned again, her eyes glowing with wicked passion – to ensure herself that her father was still watching – and then she began to lewdly gyrate her quivering buttocks, slowly at first, and then with increasing abandon until the speed with which she rocked and circled her hips matched that of her obscenely pumping fingers. He had never seen – or imagined – such a sight in his life as beautiful Ellen wantonly skewering her entire backside up and down on her two penetrating wet fingers.

She simply could not get enough now. She bent at the knees to grind the firm young buttocks even farther out and back to meet the lewdly impaling fingers, to rotate herself around them, the wide-stretched little anus expanding still more as she twisted her exploring fingers around and around up inside her rectum, the cheeks of her tantalizing buttocks vibrating and heaving, and her hips gyrating and grinding ever harder as she squatted deeper down toward the ground, totally consumed in an erotic animal frenzy which Roger had never known could exist.

Roger sat bent over his desk in his study drinking furiously to escape the reality of what had happened at the beach just a few short hours before. Over and over he ran the scene through his mind, trying to decide what he could have possibly done to avoid his youngest daughter's obscene performance. He certainly hadn't asked her to do it although he had watched, yes watched, as much as he tried not to; what human being, would not have watched? He had watched if only from shock. He'd simply had no alternative, but still it all bothered him, especially the fact that Ellen had obviously put on her lewd performance for him, and only him, to see.

As the Scotch began to dwindle in the bottle at his side he felt less worried. It was amazing how things always softened after a little dip in the bottle. He'd had to look! He was not after all a piece of chalk. Yet if only it hadn't happened, if only the beach episode had turned out to be the healthy, relaxing family outing he had intended it to be, then he would not be in his room now breaking his vow not to drink today. As it was, he had not only broken his non-drinking vow, but had smashed and shattered it into a thousand pieces. Though he had been drinking privately – not just in company – for a year now as an escape, he had seldom consumed enough at one sitting to get drunk. Perhaps a dozen times, if that. The notion of a drunkard in the house was simply too upsetting to his sense of propriety and to the example he intended to set for his children. Today, however – and at this minute – he was rip-roaring drunk and there was no turning back.

If only things were all right between his wife and him, then he would not drink and he would not have these tendencies to look at his luscious daughter, Ellen, for which he now stewed in guilt. If only…

Yet things with his wife were not all right. He considered, for instance, the few hours she'd lain next to him on the beach. Had she talked to him? No. Flirted with him, touched him, swum with him, glanced at him, or in any way recognized his existence? No. No to all of them. He could have made the move, of course, but he'd known how flat her response would have been, and that knowledge did not invite making any moves. Things were stale between them and that was that.

And why, anyway, should he have to court his own wife? If he had to court, why her then when there were certainly better little morsels nearby – quite nearby – in fact right here in the house…

Stop it! For Chrissakes, stop it, stop it, stop it, he ordered himself!

Cynthia and him – yes, that was an unhappy story hidden beneath what everyone looking on would think was contented marriage. They were cut off from each other, estranged. Though the word bruised him, it described the situation perfectly. Their sex life had dwindled down to practically nothing, just a few perfunctory, obligatory performances for which he might as well have substituted a rag doll. He just could not stimulate Cynthia, for all his solid, handsome appearance, for all the generous size, even, of his cock. Roger faced this fact only in moments of complete abandon and breakdown, such as now. Yet even at such moments, he did not suspect that his own lack of experience was the reason he could not excite his wife, the reason, ultimately, why she was each day building more and more of her life separate from him.