David Crane - Family love

Sandy was crying out and thrashing wildly about with the thrill. Her legs opened wide, closed, opened again. She arched upwards.

"Suck my cunt!" she wailed. "Suck the cum out of my hot pussy, honey!"

Debby pushed her fingers in and slurped merrily away and Sandy began to whimper as the waves of her orgasm crashed through her loins.

She creamed in Debby's mouth, Debby gulped the hot cunt juice down happily, loving the taste and the texture and the fact that she had given her friend such a thrill.

She lapped Sandy's pussy clean. She started to shift her position. "Debby – do it again, please?" Sandy asked.

Debby hesitated.

"Aren't you gonna do me now?" she asked. "Please – just once more – then I'll suck your cunt for the rest of the day."

That was an offer that Debby could not refuse.

She moved back in and began to lick and [missing text].

"Oh, that was lovely," she said. "Did you like to do it, Debby? Do you like sucking my cunt?"

"Oh, I love it," Debby said.

Sandy said, "Boy. I'm glad I found out you ate pussy. You can come over and suck me off anytime you like."

Poor Debby still didn't realize what a fool she was.

She said, "We can eat each other out every day!"

"Eh… there's something I got to tell you," Sandy said, sounding embarrassed.

A terrible idea struck Debby.

She looked at Sandy, her face creamy with cunt juice and an awful foreboding in her eyes.

"Oh, no!" she wailed.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Sandy said. "I'm not going to suck no nasty old cunt."

"But you promised!"

"Yeah, but I had my fingers crossed," Sandy said. She giggled. "I had my legs open and my fingers crossed. Sorry about that, but only lesbians eat cunt."

"I'm not a lesbian!" Debby cried.

"Well, you're a cuntsucker – same thing."

"I want to get sucked off!" Debby wailed.

"Please – just one time?"

"Nope."

"Well – give me a handjob, then?" she suggested.

"Naw. I like dicks, not pussy."

"You bitch!"

"I'd rather be a bitch than a cuntsucker, so there!"

Debby gave a great sob of frustration. She had been played for a fool yet again.

"You're worse than a jogger, even," she sobbed.

She rolled onto her back and, using both hands, rubbed herself off. But it wasn't the same thing at all.

Sandy saw her to the door and said, "Remember, Debby, any time you want to eat my pussy, just come right on over and bring your tongue."

"I never will!"

"Well, it's here if you want it."

In fact, Debby had an idea that she might, for it had been a great pleasure, to suck cunt, but she was too angry with her friend to say so right then. She stormed out. She knew that Sandy was grinning behind her back. She turned the corner and, out of sight of Sandy, gushed her fingers into her mouth and sucked the congealed cunt juice from them. She was even hornier than she had been before. What a fool she was! And where could she get some tongue or some cock in comfort?

She had no idea.

How lucky her mother was to be married to a man with a great dick like her father! But her father wasn't so lucky. He was being cuckolded. He was as much a fool as Debby was, the girl thought. She got no fucking and he would get none while his wife was off with another man. They had a lot in common right then, Debby and her dad. That ghost of a thought came to her again. Incest did not seem quite so wicked now. And it would certainly solve a problem for both her and her father, while her mother was away.

Again she dismissed the thought as impossible.

But the idea lingered.

When she got home, her father, lonely and abandoned, was punishing a bottle of Scotch.

He was already drunk and getting drunker. And Debby saw wonderful possibilities.

It was an outrageous thought, and ingenious, too. It was bold and daring. It was naughty and it was exciting. The idea took her breath away. Debby considered masquerading as her mother.

In theory, it might work, providing that her father got drunk enough. That was the crucial part. He had to be too drunk to realize it was Debby, not Margie, in bed with him, yet not so drunk that he was incapable of performing. It had to be calculated to a fine point. If Debby worked it right, she would be able to enjoy thrilling sex, exciting duplicity – even a bit of genuine amusement at her wickedness. It would certainly make a wonderful tale to tell Sandy, the next time Debby felt like munching some pussy.

If she calculated wrong, however, it would be shameful, there would be the mortification of discovery, God alone knew what recriminations or punishments. If her father suddenly realized that it was his daughter he was in bed with – Debby shuddered at the thought and wondered if she could pretend that she had been sleepwalking.

Did she dare attempt it?

She remembered how huge his prick was, and how much jism it threw off – and she was determined to try.

She figured that, if she could somehow regulate the flow of whiskey, she would be able to get her father to just the right state of intoxication. Dan wasn't normally a drinking man. He didn't have the head for it. He therefore tended to become vague and fuzzy in his mind, long before he had taken in enough alcohol to have any great effect on his bodily functions. Debby had seen him drunk a few times. She had been surprised, on those rare occasions, and wondered why. Now she guessed that he only got drunk when his wife as having a love affair with some other man. That seemed to fit the picture and her knowledge of her mother's promiscuity cleared up a lot of things that Debby had often wondered about those afternoon absences, those happy, flushed homecomings, those late dinners. She felt sorry for her cuckolded father and hoped that he would enjoy the sex as much as she knew she would. That was another reason to get him at just the right degree of drunkenness – not too numb to feel what was happening, but too dulled to realize who was causing it.

She didn't think it would be a problem, really. Those times he'd been drunk in the past, his words had become slurred long before he staggered, his thoughts had become incoherent while his body still worked normally.

She wasn't quite sure just what she would do in bed with the man, but she was determined to do something.

"Your mother and I simply decided to take separate holidays this year, is all," Dan said, once again.

He was sprawled out on the couch – the same couch on which Margie had sprawled as he gobbled her cunt and then arched under his pounding form as he screwed her – a nearly empty glass in his hand. Debby admired him for so gallantly defending his wife's promiscuity – well, not defending it so much as trying to keep it from her. He deserved some fun. And so did she. He had been abandoned for another man and she had given handjobs and head and twice been deceived.

She gazed at him, gauging the degree of his inebriation. He was not quite at that vital point yet.

"Let me fix you another drink, Daddy?"

He held the glass out. She took it and, with all the careful calculation of an alchemist, mixed Scotch and water and ice in a formula designed to turn the base metal of frustration to the gold of orgasm.

She said, "Don't worry, Daddy – I'll take care of everything while Mom is away. I can do the housework and the cooking and – everything." She smiled secretly.

"You're a good girl," he said.

A bit later she refilled a final drink.

Dan said that he felt a bit weary, excused himself and went up toted. Debby watched him go and, sure enough, his words had been imprecise and yet he mounted the stairs on steady legs.

Her expectations soared.

While she waited for him to go to sleep, she had a small drink, herself, and thought about what she would soon be doing. She wondered what actually constituted incest. Fucking, of course, but was that the limit? Was, say, oral sex considered incest? Handjobs? Buggery, even? She wasn't sure and she was not in the mood to consult a dictionary and, anyhow, doubted that Webster went into such detail.