Ken Preston: More than a daughter

Before Bunny even made it, the first time, Dirk had Dolly under him and Allen was fucking Joan's eager snatch. Six bodies were smoothly screwing, side by side on the soft rug. Teresa had been unable to suppress her desire to get into the action, someway. When Dolly pulled her close to her and showed Terry the tip of her flicking tongue, Terry moaned and promptly eased her cunt down over Dolly's head, straddling her body, presenting a hot box crying to be sucked. Everyone had someone now, but me.

When I watched Mike's huge thing chugging and chugging into its slick home, I decided abruptly to leave the guest house and find my lover. My pussy was so stormed up it couldn't wait for the feel of my father's strong cock parting my pussy lips and sliding into the place where it was truly needed, right now.

When I got to my daddy's bedroom, I saw two packed suitcases sitting outside his door. I suddenly felt very sad, although I knew he would be back and I would have him between my legs again the moment my morn had gotten through greeting him on his return. My mom! Bless her hot little heart. Daddy was her man, after all. He had his hands full, just taking care of her insatiable need for cock. I knew I would have to find my own personal lover, very quickly, or climb the wall in my desperate hunger for love. I knocked on my father's door, this time, instead of just barging in.

My mom was sound asleep in their bed, curled up in a little ball of contentment in the center of the bed. My dad was fully clothed, standing by his dresser checking his notebook of appointments. He looked up and greeted me with a warm kiss and a gentle hug. He looked so bushed my heart went out to him. Mom had really drained my poor daddy! He smiled down at me and whispered, "I have to cut out for the airport, Deb. How about driving me, and bringing the car back? Hop into some clothes and meet me down at the garage."

I nodded and turned reluctantly to get dressed. On the way to the terminal, my father snapped his fingers as a sudden thought came to him. "Debby," he said, rubbing my knee with his warm hand, "I just remembered I asked one of the young agents in my office to meet me at the airport with some last minute plans we sketched put for opening a new agency. I think you'll like him. In fact, I know you will. And, Deb, you know you need a strong man of your own… young, like you. Perhaps…"

He looked over at my face that was beginning to lose its long look. I knee he was trying to cheer me up. I sat close to him and dropped my hand on his crotch, feeling his beautiful tool all soft and tired under my hot hand. "Daddy," I said quietly, "I know you are right. About my getting a boyfriend of my own, I mean. But you aren't saying you'll never make love to me again, are you? Not to have you make love to me any more…" I started to cry.

"Hey, now," he said softly. "We'll get together again when I come home, if you want to. You know that. But I think all my kids should find love the right way. You know very well what I mean. Well, here we are." He swung the big car into the parking lot. We trudged over to the waiting area, peopled with sleepy-eyed early travelers heading for distant cities.

A tall, handsome boy appeared out of the crowd and shook hands with my dad, handing him a small leather travel case bulging with papers. He smiled at me. His eyes were bright and friendly and his manner easy and casual, although I noticed his eyes held for just a moment too long on my nipples showing through the thin blouse I'd grabbed in my haste to get dressed. He told me his name was Roger, and that it was a genuine pleasure to meet the lovely daughter his boss had mentioned so often. When we shook hands, rather formally, his grip was warm and firm and his eyes looked deep into mine in a way that made me stand close to him, with out fingers just barely touching, as he and Daddy chatted briefly about the company plans.

All too soon his flight was announced, and my father was gone! Roger and I stood by the huge glass window, watching the lights of his plane streak up into the sky and become tiny bright points, gleaming like little jewels in the lightening sky. Without realizing it, I was clinging to Roger's arm like a lonely little child. When he suggested we stop at the coffee shop, I was all for the idea. I did not want to be alone. When he mentioned he'd grabbed a cab to the airport, I offered to drive him back to his place, not mentioning that I didn't have a license as yet.

We talked a mile a minute, and by the time we reached his apartment, we were acting as though we had known each other for months. Roger was very easy to like. I found my eyes stealing glances at his crotch, and at his big, strong hands. My pussy was wet, and although I had no definite plans, I could think of no reason to object when he invited me up to his place for breakfast.

Roger moved around his bachelor kitchen with the assurance and know-how of a real gourmet cook, whipping us up a breakfast of fluffy eggs and crisp bacon and hot buttered toast that put Teresa to shame as a cook. We chattered away about work and my school, and before too long, about love and sex, just as though we had been dating for weeks and weeks. We found a dozen excuses to brush against each other. To touch. To stand looking into each other's eyes, and to hold hands while the toast almost burned.

After breakfast he glanced at the clock and said he really should shower and change his clothes and make motions like a rising young business man in our competitive world. I didn't want to give him up, but I couldn't bring myself to be bold and forward and tell him I was so eager to make love with him that my panties were damp and clinging to my pussy. I offered to wait while he showered, and to drive him downtown. He impulsively kissed me thank you, and headed for his bedroom. My fingers went to my burning lips, and then to my moist pussy. I sighed, wondering if the horny party had screwed itself to a reluctant halt, back at our guest house. Roger had the same sense of humor and the same loving manner about him as Mike. I sat down in his living room and flipped through a magazine that might as well have had all blank pages for all I saw in it.

I heard Roger singing in the shower, and tried to imagine his strong body all soapy with suds and his cock – stop that, I told myself. I heard the water shut off, and then to my horror I heard him yelp and I heard a dull thudding noise in his bathroom. And then – utter silence! I screamed, "Roger, Roger, what's happened?" and ran to the bathroom, bunting in to skid to a halt and stare at him laying on the soft wooly rug, tangled in the shower curtain, and out like a light bulb. I fell to my knees, crying and dragging him half up on to my lap, holding him and rocking back and forth and kissing his wet face like a little puppy trying to arouse its master. I felt the back of his head with my trembling hands. There was a lump already the size of a goose egg rising under his curly hair. He lay limp in my arms, his eyes closed, breathing shallowly. I didn't know what to do. I had to bring him around! If he had a concussion he had to be gotten to an emergency room pretty darn quick, but I knew I'd never be able to get him dressed or drag his husky frame to the car.

I tried to calm myself down. I had to bring him to. For the first time, I really looked at the naked boy in my arms. And I looked at his cock, first, I'll have to admit. I heard myself give a little gasp of surprise. And joy! He was built as big as my daddy! Even soft! His cock was perfectly formed. Thick, strong looking, without a blemish on his soft skin. His hair was thick and curly, but soft as cotton.

Without thinking, I found my hand curling around him, squeezing it lovingly and stroking it, the clean shiny-pink head of it brushing against my hot palm as I played with him, thinking, if anything, that he should feel my hand on him and arouse himself from his unconscious state.