Jason Cannon - The farmer_s daughter

The windows were dark with night when the loud noise awakened her. She knew, instinctively, that someone was in the room with her, but she could see no shape or form in the dim light. Sliding from the bed she snapped on the light, and then she saw him.

Her father was stretched out on the floor on his back, his mouth sagging open, his breathing heavy, coming in great gasps from his throat. At first she thought he might be seriously hurt, but when she bent over, close to his face, she realized that he was drunk and had passed out.

She couldn't understand it… it seemed impossible. Her father rarely drank. His troubles and worries had bothered him before, but never enough to make him stay in town after work and drink himself into such a state of drunkenness.

Alma went next door to her own room to get Rosebud's help. The room was empty. Back in the hall, she called to Gussie. There was no answer.

She went back into his room and, slowly, inch by inch, managed to pull the groaning but lifeless form up onto the bed. She removed his shoes and started to leave, but noticing the dirty state of his sweat-stained work clothes, she returned to the bed and pulled his shirt, socks and trousers from his body.

Again she started to leave, but the memory of her father's huge cock, naked and hard, in the bathroom, drew her back to his side with a morbid fascination. She rolled his shorts halfway down his hips until the flaccid cock rolled free above the elastic rim.

Her mind told her to roll the shorts on down, off his legs, and cover his body with the light summer quilt. But her hands took on a life of their own. The fingertips ran lightly up and down the wrinkled skin of her father's cockshaft. One hand dipped into the shorts and cupped the pendulous balls in their hairy, heavy sac.

Her eyes grew wide in amazement as the cock started to fill at once with blood and the staff swelled longer and fatter with each touch of her silky fingers. She ran a nail lightly along the ridge under the foreskin. The bulbous head throbbed and pushed out of its sheath into her palm.

She fisted it and suddenly it was a hard, throbbing mass of meat in her hand. She could barely touch the tips of her fingers around the thick stalk. She caressed the pulsing head with her other hand.

He wasn't her father any longer; he was a beautiful male animal. A man who could excite her body beyond anything she had previously known. The gigantic cock in her hand pulsed with a demanding life all its own that sent pangs of need to the tips of her tits and the depths of her cunt.

He came partially awake, groaned, and pulled her hands away from his groin. Paying no attention she returned them and bent even lower so she could run the wet head of his cock over the tops of her tits. Again he pulled her hands off his cock and tried vainly to push her whole body away from him.

"No…" he mumbled.

She murmured "Yes," under her breath and started to get into bed with him.

"No, Rosebud… no more. I told you we can't do it no more."

Alma Mae jumped from the bed as though he had slapped her face. Suddenly she knew where Rosebud had been last night and whom she had been with; she knew that her father's unusual moods had actually been guilt for seducing his own daughter. Her mind raced like a brushfire, suddenly adding to her knowledge the reason why Rosebud had gone, so abruptly, to Memphis.

She ran from the room, closed the door behind her, and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Her clothes clung like a clammy dish rags to her sweat-soaked body. The guilt of what she had almost done raged in her mind and fought with the still vivid memory of his hard cock that continued to stir desire in her body.

A bath, she thought, an ice-cold bath.

She drew the water in the tub as cold as she could stand, then eased herself in slowly, relishing the sensations it caused on her skin. When she was well down in the water she looked down across her body at the rising mounds of her firm, young tits, the nipples proud as they stood in reaction to the cold. She examined the smooth, flat stomach, punctuated by the deep cleft of her navel. Below it was the wide, triangular mound of her constantly seething cunt. The place on a woman's body where all men end up. She wondered if all families were as sexual as her own.

The need in her body brought tears to her eyes. She cried and cried until mental fatigue again took over and she passed into sleep.

She awake to find Gussie shaking her. The water sloshed up to spray her face and the wall beside the tub.

"Child, you're gonna drown some day fallin' asleep in a tub of water like that."

"Oh," Alma said, shaking the sleep from her eyes, wondering how long she had been napping. "I must have dozed off. What time is it?"

"Late… almost nine o'clock. Able and Rosebud thought you'd taken off somewhere so they went to a movie. I couldn't see a light in here but I just had to pee so I snapped the lock on the door and came on in."

Alma paid little attention as Gussie sat on the toilet and pissed. The older woman carelessly let her robe drop open. She was nude and her tits thrust bouncing from the open robe.

Alma pulled the plug and let the water drain from the tub. She waited for Gussie to finish and leave but the woman just sat and watched her as if she were waiting. Sighing, Alma stood up, nude and voluptuously beautiful with the sheen of the water on her body. "Hand me that towel, will you?"

"Here," Gussie said, still sitting behind Alma and handing her a thick towel. "Your father home?"

Alma could feel her body tense but she made an effort not to let Gussie see it. "Yes… he he's been drinking."

"He should be," Gussie said. "Here, I'll dry your back."

Alma felt another towel being used on her back and down across her asscheeks. She felt herself being overcome with a strange and frightening sensation. A deep flush began at her neck. A fire seemed to have been ignited in the pit of her stomach, and it spread to the depths of her cunt.

Her mind clouded and her breathing became shallow as Gussie's practiced hands dipped below her ass and fumbled at her hairy slit.

"No," she whimpered.

"Why not?" Gussie asked.

"No… no more. Not with my own kin any more."

The hands stopped their probing. When Gussie spoke her voice was harsh, demanding. "What do you mean your own kin? What kin?"

Alma almost blurted out her desires for her own father. Instead she spoke in a wan voice, telling Gussie about Able and Rosebud.

"Oh," Gussie said, her voice again taking on a sweet tone as she returned her hands and the towel to Alma's body. "It's okay, baby… Able and Rosebud both want you… so do I."

"You want us, too… if you come live with me in Memphis you'll have about anything or anyone you want."

Alma only shook her head. She was fighting the surge of desire that flooded her body and threatened to choke the air from her throat as Gussie's expert hands worked their will on her rippling skin.

Gussie sensed the girl's inability for straight thought. She turned Alma around and pulled her into her arms until their tits mashed, nipple to hot, thrusting nipple. She tipped the girl's head back and jammed her lips over Alma's. Hotly she shoved her tongue into Alma's mouth and felt the girl's will melt as her furry, wet cunt started a fluid, forward thrust to meet her aunt's.

Alma Mae tensed for a moment and then gave herself up to the wild and delicious feeling that coursed through her as Gussie's hand slipped beneath her ass and probed gently at the lips of her cunt. The fingers insinuated themselves between the wet lips and slid along the cuntal walls causing a lusting, burning sensation in Alma's pussy that fogged her mind to anything but sex and the need for instant release.

"Let's go in your bedroom, honey," the older woman said. "I want you so bad I can taste you already."