Ron Taylor: Do me, Daddy!

Wet? I could have filled a couple of Mason jars with the cunt-cream that had poured from my gash and soaked the bed where I lay. My pussy was still sopping, though I could hardly bear to touch it. It felt as if the outer protective layer of skin had been ripped away, exposing the nerves and the raw flesh beneath. My tits were sore, too, the nipples still sticking out a mile, their rubbery extensions too tender to squeeze even in fun. Sweat had formed enormously in my armpits and in the backs of my knees, and I smelled like a well-fucked bitch. The aroma of me was warm, acrid, strong from my perspiration, even stronger from the odor of my tart pussy-juice. I closed my eyes and sniffed, filling my nose with the musky fragrance.

God! I thought suddenly. Had Mom and Uncle Roy come in while I was diddling myself? Unlikely. I'd been screaming my ass off, there towards the end, and if they'd heard me, surely they'd have come to investigate. Just for certainty's sake I opened my mouth and screamed again, a wailing cry that made my throat twinge in pain. But no one tapped at my door, and I knew I was still alone in the house. Time, then, for a fresh cigarette.

I'd taken maybe three or four drags when I doubled up in agony on the bed. My kidneys were killing me – I had to piss like I couldn't believe – and I didn't think I could walk the ten or twelve steps from my bed to my bathroom.

I grabbed my cunt, plugging the dike with my palm, and I staggered towards the bathroom door. Every step was a fresh helping of agony, and I could feel little droplets of piss dampening my hand as I fought a desperate battle.

In the end I made it. I flopped onto the john, grunted, and let go. My kidneys strained and struggled to empty, and the piss streamed like rain into the toilet bowl. It was so obscenely loud and vulgar a sound I couldn't keep myself from laughing, but it also felt so Goddamned good to let it flow. I reached down to touch my cunt while I pissed. My fingers got stinky-wet but they found my clit, too, and rolled upon it slickly. Each touch sent a twinge of delightful pain hammering up my body and I sat jerking and twitching on the commode as I called up one last come this night. My piss ceased to flow, but my twat-juices were streaming from my gash again, and my finger was abusing the already-ravaged slice between my legs, and I sat gasping and cackling till my head reeled and my vision began to blur.

Before I crawled under the sheets, I set my alarm clock for seven in the morning. Mom wouldn't get out of bed before nine if her life depended on it, I was positive, and, since I figured Uncle Roy would be going back to New York tomorrow, I wanted to see him privately one last time. I fell asleep thinking about how nice that private meeting would be, for both of us.

I slept like a baby till my alarm went off. When the jingling sound intruded on my dreams, I turned with a snarl, ready to shut it off and go back to sleep, until I remembered why I'd set it for such a God awful hour. That woke me up.

I threw off the cover and stood up, yawning, and stretching the sleep away from my body. Better take a very quick bath, I thought, and don't forget to spray on some pussy deodorant. Roy might not want to face me so early if I smelled of cum and piss.

Not until I turned the handle of the guest-room door did the obvious occur to me. What if he wasn't sleeping here? What if he'd bunked with Mom last night? Assuming, of course, that they had come home at all. I couldn't swear to that. Even kinkier – what if Mom was in here with him? What if I opened the door and caught Uncle Roy in bed with my mother? What if she was sucking him off or something? Out of sight!

Anyway, I could come up with a reasonable, virginal excuse if I had to. I was dressed, after a sort. I was wearing my robe. Oh, this was too good a chance to pass up. If Uncle Roy was alone, great. If Mom was with him, it might be even better. I could embarrass the shit out of her.

Uncle Roy was alone in his bed. From the way he stretched his long frame diagonally across the bed I suspected he'd gone to sleep alone, too. That stumped me. Why hadn't he shacked in with Mom last night? From the looks and touches they had been giving one another it was the logical conclusion. Maybe they'd slept separately to get some rest. After all, they were out a long time.

I went to him, stepping quietly. He was breathing softly, his chest rising and falling. The sheet was pulled to his nipples but it lay like a mist on his body and I could see the outline of his sleeping cock. It was big even when it was soft. I liked that very much.

My fingers began to stroke his face and his eyes came open very slowly. He blinked them a few times, trying to get into focus, and then he saw it was me. "Good God, Jenni," he whispered. "Get out of here!"

I straightened up, innocent as a girl could be. My face melted as if I were about to bawl. "I'm sorry," I said little-girlishly. "I just thought you might like to have breakfast in bed."

He didn't know how to take that. I could see his thought processes clearly; God bless his open, trusting face! He smiled, more at ease now. "That's very thoughtful of you. But it's pretty early…"

"The day's half-over," I grinned. "It's at least seven-thirty."

"Where is it?" he asked. "Or did you come to take my order?"

I was partly turned away, and he didn't see me untie the sash of my robe. When I whirled on my toes towards him, the robe opened and I let it drop to the floor. Underneath there was nothing but me, clean and scrubbed and ready.

He didn't have time to say anything else. I'd bounced onto the bed and my cunt was planted on top of his mouth. "We only have one dish," I smirked. "Tell me how you like it."

He had two choices – he could eat my pussy or he could suffocate. I wiggled my crotch atop his face, tickling his nose and lips with the fluffy golden hairs of my pubes, and I felt him make a humming sound that vibrated my clitty wickedly. He must have been trying to speak in protest, but it didn't help. I pressed down harder, forcing my muff into his half-opened mouth, and I felt his tongue brush my cunt-lips. Brush – brush – ahh!

He lunged upward with his tongue. It poked between the gates of my slice and it went into my cunt-hole.

"Oooooohhhh!" I groaned in a whisper, seizing his temples. His tongue was still probing my box, growing bolder with each pass. Once I felt it jab my clit, and I remembered how nicely he'd eaten me yesterday. Jesus, it was going to be a hard go, living without him now that I'd found him! I began to bob up and down on his face then, holding him by the head, fucking his mouth with my pussy.

"Good," I whispered in encouragement. "It feels so good to have you eating me for breakfast. Doesn't this beat bacon and eggs, Uncle Roy?"

His hands fought their way from beneath the sheet and onto my hipbones. For a moment I thought he was going to toss me off the bed. He lifted, and I felt myself rising, felt the contact of his tongue and my snatch diminishing. I fought him, trying to keep in position, but he was so much stronger than I was – he could have tossed me through the door if he'd wanted.

I grasped at a straw. While he was gripping my waist I spun, breaking his hold, reversing myself. Now my asshole was planted atop his forehead and I was facing his feet. Easy going. I thrust my hands beneath the sheet, flinging it off him, and I leaned forward, aiming for his cock. Uncle Roy was like me – he apparently preferred to sleep naked. It certainly made this a breeze. His pecker was lying limply at the juncture of his thighs, but it didn't stay limp for long. I got a hand around it and gave a tug that made his cock spring up stiff in a twinkling.

He mumbled into my crotch when he felt the pull of his hard-on, but I didn't listen to see what he was saying. I just clamped my cunt down on his face and reached my mouth towards the tip of his dick.