Ron Taylor: Do me, Daddy!

"Get up!" he hissed into my ear. "I don't want her to see this!"

"Oh, fuck her!" I snapped back, hopping off his lap. The point of his dick still poked up inside his pants and I decided that it would be a proper thing if he still had a hard-on when Mom joined us. Serve him right.

"One more thing," I whispered to him as he heard Mom's car door slam shut outside. "Daddy always used to throw you up to her when they were fighting. Did you ever really screw my mother?"

He didn't have a chance to answer. Just then Mom came onto the patio. She stood a moment in the doorway, letting the house lights shimmer round the outlines of her figure, and then she was running towards Roy in a joyous haste. They came together and she lifted her face to his for a kiss that seemed to last forever. And when they finally moved apart to stand side by side, I didn't really need an answer to the question I'd asked Uncle Roy.

It was like I didn't exist any longer. They only had eyes for one another. I heard them start talking, both at the same time, and then they laughed and stopped talking, each waiting for the other to start again. Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. They reminded me of teenagers out on a date.

"I was very sorry to hear about the divorce," Roy said. "It was too bad for you and Dick both."

"Was it?" Mom asked, her voice positively kittenish. She has a soft, Marilyn Monroe way of talking as it is, but she sounded as if she were scooping it from the ladle right now. Damn her, anyway! And Roy was eating it up, the way he'd eaten me up in bed. He smiled and nodded and I could tell that he was listening to every word she said and loving it all. Damn him, too!

It wasn't fair! I'd worked my ass off seducing him, and now he was fallen into Mom's lap like an overripe peach.

I was so Goddamned angry I stomped past them and into the house and, ten to one, neither of them even noticed that I was gone. I went into the game room, turned on the TV, and slumped into a chair, ready to watch whatever might be playing. I just didn't care about anything.

Twenty minutes later they came through the room, holding hands now, still talking and smiling, and neither of them spoke a word to me. I stuck out my lower lip. Maybe I'd tell Mom about what a good time Uncle Roy and I had enjoyed while waiting for her to come home. Maybe that would fix her wagon. It would certainly shock the hell out of her. She knew I'd done a few wild things, like smoking weed and maybe petting with boys, but she thought I was a virgin. With a capital V. This would be a far-fucking-out way to break the news to her.

In a moment Uncle Roy came back into the room by himself. He sat down on a chair across the room from mine, pretending not to be watching me. I slouched in the chair, letting my legs thrust out, their slim curves an unmistakable reminder of how slickly they'd wrapped around him a little earlier.

"Where's Mom?" I asked, finally breaking the silence.

"She went up to dress for dinner. We're going out."

"Oh." I smiled. "It takes her hours to get ready for anything. Wanna try for a quickie while you're waiting?"

He looked green. I jumped out of the chair and pounced across the room. A few kisses on the face and neck, a few feels on the chest, and then my hands closed in on his dick. It took me maybe half a minute to get it romping hard inside his pants and the two of us began to fight for control of his zipper.

"Knock it off!" he barked at me, so sternly I felt as if I'd just been slapped. I began to pout again, lower lip stuck way out and up, till it almost touched the tip of my nose.

"Look here," he went on, "I told you already – what happened this afternoon just happened. It won't happen again, and that's a promise. If I have anything to do with it, I won't even see you again till you've grown up and gotten some sense and decency. God knows you can use both of them."

"Oh, fuck you," I snarled, picking myself up off the floor. I twitched and wiggled back to my chair, reminding him of what a nice piece of ass he was missing out on, and I sat down. At about that time Mom came into the room.

I think I hated her even more right then. Why couldn't she be a dowdy matron like every other decent woman of her age? When I saw her in the doorway, it only made me realize how much more beautiful she was than me.

Mom is thirty-eight, as of her last birthday, and, to be vulgar but accurate, she is a fucking knockout. Her face is mature and gorgeous, with big, big eyes that seem to hypnotize you, and she wears her hair shoulder-length and shimmery. She's auburn-haired, like Daddy before his fell out, and I guess it was just luck that made me so blonde.

Mom was wearing an outrageously slinky, sexy dress up jumpsuit. It didn't have any sleeves, so her arms were bare and slim and tanned just enough to make tern glow, and it was cut rather deeply to show off her cleavage. The material was black and satiny, and though the legs were wide and flowing, they shifted with her movements and really demonstrated the intriguing curves of her long legs. She's tall, taller than I am, nearly as tall as Uncle Roy when she has on her heels, and she's built like a model, except for her tits. They're round and thrusting, firm even at thirty-eight, though they jiggle provocatively when she walks. She really is a good-looking lady and I could almost understand why Uncle Roy preferred to screw around with her instead of me. I could understand, but I couldn't forgive.

She wasn't wearing a Goddamned thing under her jumpsuit. Her big nipples thrust out at the bodice and when she moved, the fabric lifted into her crotch so boldly it must have been teasing hell out of her clitty. My beaver would have been dripping by now, if I'd been her.

But I wasn't. And when Uncle Roy rose from his chair, it was Mom he went to, not me. He took her in his arms and looked her up and down, and he said, "Carrie, you're incredible! My God, I think you're even lovelier than the first time I saw you, all, those years ago."

"It wasn't so long," she said. "In fact, it seems like only yesterday." And she blushed, so heart-tuggingly I wanted to puke. She let him kiss her on that blush and then she looked at me with a good old Mom-type smile. "Jenni, we'll be gone for hours. Lock up when you go to bed. Okay?" I faked a cheery nod, and they went out, holding hands, walking on air, and I was so full of hate I couldn't bear to watch them go.

You're crazy! I told myself as I slouched in the chair watching television and belting tequila straight. The liquor had a fiery kick that warmed up my guts and I felt like a Tijuana whore on her Sunday break.

And I wasn't crazy, either. I was hung on Uncle Roy. He could throw a fuck that made a girl feel like a woman grown, and I could still feel his sharp teeth chewing on my titties, making me whine in glee. And now, to see him puppying around Mom, to think of her being nearly as gruesome in her response – he didn't care for me at all. He'd only balled me because I caught him at a weak moment. It was her he wanted.

"The bastard," I said out loud, but it didn't make me feel better. "The lousy bastard."

I wasn't in love with him, not a bit. I liked him, of course, and had even when I was a little girl. But what I was really interested in was the terrific way he fucked.

If I could just get him alone for a couple of hours – that was all I needed. Sure, Mom's good-looking, but she's an old lady. As far as guys are concerned, the younger, the better. Why should I have so much trouble getting what I wanted? It wasn't fair.

I turned off the TV and went up to my room. Restlessly lying on the bed in my skin and tan, I smoked a cigarette and grooved on the tequila I'd belted.

My hand stale down to rub over the pale fuzz on my crotch. There wasn't a Goddamned thing wrong with my pussy. It was plump and cute, the lips pink, the interior as tight as a pussy ought to be. When I was turned on, the juices dripped out of me free and flowing. Like now. I stroked my box with two fingers, one sliding between the labes, the other tickling the outer flanges, and as I brushed across my clit a few times, I felt those juices begin to really flow. A nice, tingling sense of warmth and well-being occupied my cunt and I wondered why the rest of me felt so Goddamned uptight and out of sorts.