Paul Tate: Camping with daddy

The girl jerked at the lewd remark, but ignored it. Judging from the uncouth appearance and language of these two men, shivered Sally, a woman had to put up with a heck of a lot more. Their gritty, unwashed faces were dirty, tattered cuffs made her shirk in repugnance. Involuntarily, her shoulders shuddered visibly.

"You cold, honey," the one named Pete leered.

"Why don't ya come and sit next to the fire. We won't hurt you none."

Closing her suitcase and locking it, Sally took two cautious steps in the direction of the fire, her eyes locked on her father. God, if anything would happen to him, leaving her with these two thugs, she'd die! Closer now, Sally noticed the bearded face of Pete who continued to gaze at her as though he were half-witted in some way.

Sam unscrewed the cap of the re-filled whiskey bottle, took a hearty gulp, smacked his lips and passed it to Pete. "Don't be shy folks. Got plenty more if we can get that little bitch Sissy over here with it."

Four heads turned in the direction of the road, watching two bodies struggling from the distance. They looked like two shadow boxers tugging and pulling at each other's bodies in a last desperate attempt at winning or losing. From so far away, nobody could tell.

"Hey, Sissy!" bellowed Sam a second time. "Leave that fucker alone and get over here with that whiskey. We got some thirsty people here!"

Huddled near the fire, eight eyes watched as a black figure tromped off and got into the boat, rowing off into the darkness. Sally and her father exchanged disconcerting glances while the other two voyeurs guffawed and slapped their knees. "By Jesus, if Luke didn't split," chuckled Pete. "Least ways that means we got the moonshine!" He and Sam slapped each other on the back and drained the bottle, each wiping their mouths on the dirty plaid flannel of their sleeves.

"You guys live around her?" Brad wanted to know.

"Nah, just here for a few months alligator skinning. Pitched ourselves a little tent back up the bayou a piece." Sam leaned forward, one elbow on his knee. "Ain't legal, alligator skinning, you know," he laughed and touched the knife on his belt. "But trust you can keep a secret. We swamp men's touchy about squeallers."

Before Sally had time to assess the situation, a pretty girl of about eighteen had pranced to the campfire, shoes in her hand. Probably one of the most sensuous and almost savagely beautiful women Sally had ever seen. The girl collapsed to the ground, panting. Her violet eyes flickered in the fire light, her nostrils flared and a hateful look crossed her otherwise perfect features.

"That fuckin' son of a bitch," she spat, turning her head to see if he had followed her. "Look at this!" She lifted her skirt. "That bastard damned near killed me!" Her thigh was naked up to her pussy and bruised so that the skin looked drawn and swollen in its pre-bruise tenderness. "That sonofa… ooohhh," she grunted hatefully.

"Come on, you know Luke's temper. Ain't news to us!" Sam and Pete exchanged laughing glances, while Sally stared, mouth open at the girl.

"That creep ain't got no class," she spit again, after a second's pause to catch her breath.

"Meet our friends, Brad and Sally… father and daughter…" gestured Sam, obviously the mote polite of the strangers.

"Ain't that cute?" Sissy fluttered her eyelashes, sending shadows of light over her fair skin. "Now him… he don't seem to be so crude. You ain't from around here, are ya?"

"Me?" Brad pointed to himself and shrugged. "New Orleans."

Sally watched with bewilderment as her father's eyes roved the heaving mounds of Sissy's huge tits, rising and falling beneath her cotton tee-shirt. She wore, no bra, that was evident. Something about the situation made Sally terribly uneasy and she desperately wished everybody would go away and leave she and her father alone. But her sense of decorum demanded otherwise.

"Where's the whiskey?" ground out the stubble-bearded Pete.

"Back there in a bag," the auburn haired girl pointed toward the tree where the boat had been tied up next to Brad's.

"Go get it." It was a command from Pete.

"I ain't goin' all the way over there by myself, not with it so dark and all these alligators around," she whined with squinting eyes. She was a defiant girl, that was obvious. Somehow, Sally had to respect her for that.

"If he'll come with me I'll go get it," smiled Sissy, looking at Brad and licking her lips where a tiny trickle of blood marred her otherwise flawless skin.

Without regard for Sally's feelings or desires, not thinking of any harmful implications of leaving his daughter to these burly swamp men, he rose to his feet, offered a hand to assist the vixen and headed off toward the trees in the distance. The night was too beautiful to waste on useless daydreams, he thought. Watching his daughter dress a few minutes ago had started his balls aching and this hot little big-tilted cunt was a Godsend. He sure as hell was going to blow his cum into her one place or another before they got back to the fire with all that moonshine!

Sally almost opened her mouth to object as she watched her handsome father moving off in the near-darkness with the sensuous swamp girl, but before she could, they were out of the light of the fire. God, he was leaving her alone with these rough looking and talking men. What on earth could have come over him. She sat silently by the fire, aware the men's eyes were burning hotly through her clothing.

She could only hope her father stayed at least within her screaming range if anything happened. Then suddenly her mouth gaped open as she witnessed in the dim light the light-haired girl stop and pull her father into her arms, squashing her huge tits against his chest. Sally felt a blush start at the base of her neck as the pair began a slow, even grinding motion of cunt against cock with their arms wrapped around each other's backs. The couple was standing in the shadows of the trees now, just yards away from the remaining three, none of whom cared about their hotly grinding bodies, except for Sally. Pete and Sam were not appalled by Sissy's brazen cunt grinding movements.

From where she sat near the fire, Sally could see the swamp girl's mouth buried in her father's neck and she began planting hot, open-mouthed kisses over his skin. He hugged her even closer now, and one of his hands moved to the soft brown, almost blonde hair shimmering lightly down the back of her neck, running his fingers through the silver strands. God! How could he desert her like this, thought Sally possessively.

This was unbelievable! Silly's mind reeled in shock and disbelief as she watched the girl's tits mashed flat against her father's chest.

With the illumination of the moonlight, she watched the couple move even closer together, if that was possible. She could see Sissy's hands fall to her father's ass-cheeks, pulling his cock tightly to her cunt as though they were having a standing fuck. God, the two of them were actually dry fucking as some of Sally's more audacious girl friends called it. Her father must be really hard up for female attention, thought Sally, taking another sip of her wine, feeling a loathing build in her stomach. How dare he desert her with these… these brutes her only company!

"Well, look at that," grunted Pete pointing at Brad and Sissy. "If that little bitch ain't tryin' for more cock. You'd think three fucks a night would keep her snatch happy."

"How about you, honey?" Sam said half laughingly, but Sally knew he was serious… dead serious. She watched with saucered eyes as the one named Pete rose to his feet and tugged at her arm. "Come on, get up. Let's see if you're pussy's as hot as big-tits out there," he guffawed, his stubble bearded face shimmering in valleys in the fire's glow.