Not that she had let him, of course. She had slapped his hand and indeed carried on very strictly with him. Quite angry with his forwardness – on the surface, at least – she had let him know in no uncertain terms that it was shameful and that her father would probably kill him if he ever found out, and what a disgrace it was for their families, and so on.
Yet secretly she had felt a terrible illicit excitement when Ronald tried to cup his hand over her sweater-taut breast. He certainly didn't get much for his trouble, mostly just the point of her brassiere, and a flare of anger from her. Yet there was this undeniably deep, squirmy feeling in her loins afterwards, and her breath had come unnaturally hot in the lengthy silence that lasted all the way home. What if he had actually tried to – had actually gotten his hand under her brassiere and managed to feel her heaving young breasts, squeezing those firm, full mounds in his strong eager hands? What if his fingers had actually touched her swollen nipples? How would that have felt?
There was a sharp intake of breath from the young girl on the bed as her fingers now moved with increasing urgency within the hot wet folds of her pussy. The nipples of her breasts seemed to be tingling with heat, and the entire triangle of her loins was fluttering and full of butterflies racing around like mad. Her throbbing breasts rose and fell irregularly, alive with emotion. She saw her daddy, large as life leaning over her, moving down onto her open body, grating his dark hairy chest all over her heaving breasts and nipples, rubbing her smooth white skin with his rougher flesh, breathing hotly into her face, his enormous penis sliding forward in… in through the sensitive wet portals of her hotly energized young cunt… plunging forward… electrifying her hypersensitive little clitoris with his touch, massaging it around agonizingly in a way that made her beautiful blonde head strain backward, her mouth open and echoing sharp, urgent little cries, the muscles and veins in her neck standing out, pulsating with an as yet unquenched desire, striving for an impossibly beautiful orgasm…
And then suddenly there was something else!
Her nostrils flared wider, her breathing came more hotly until she was actually panting – as her mental vision of Daddy was replaced by Brute!
Not actually having sex with her, of course. But performing with another dog as she had watched him do in the park one day last week.
It all came back to her now as her mind conjured up fresh memories in rhythm with her earnestly working fingers between her legs. They had gone into the park and there had been another sort of dog, a bitch. Some kind of mongrel, perhaps mostly terrier. Obviously Brute and the bitch were well acquainted. June hadn't been able to tear her eyes away as Brute's shining long red penis had slid so smoothly from its furry sheath between his legs as he attempted to mount the other dog, both of them panting with their wet tongues hanging out. So effortlessly had the dog's penis slid into the bitch's vagina that there was scarcely any positioning to do at all, and then Brute had gone ahead, pummeling the other dog for all she was worth, panting like crazy as his forepaws held him hunched obscenely over her back.
June had felt her own breath coming very fast watching them, her loins warming inexplicably. She had never seen or imagined Brute as a sexual being before, and it came as something of a shock to see him engaging in such a highly-charged, passionate enterprise, although afterward she had wondered at her own surprise. Sex was after all the way of the world, and the system through which new dogs and new people were produced. To discover that her beloved Brute could engage so enthusiastically in such practice should not have taken her breath away so.
Yet it had, undeniably. She had watched right through to completion, her mouth holding helplessly slack and unable to speak the loose leash in her hand hanging limply to the ground.
And then she had noticed something else, she remembered now – Brute's beautiful brown eyes were fastened upon hers!
But why had that taken her aback so? Was there anything unnatural in that? She was his mistress, so naturally he gazed at her, even while having sex with another dog.
June groaned in her deepening dream of lust, her middle finger moving swiftly in and out of the moistly sucking passage of her cunt. She had started off thinking of her handsome daddy who kept mother so happy with his manly ways, but now she was thinking of Brute, their sleek dark German shepherd. Thinking of what he had done to that female dog in the park across from their house… his hips moving relentlessly back and forth… his soft brown eyes fastened upon her as his burning red penis disappeared into the other dog, then came out again, sleek and glistening, out to its full thick length… but all at such a furious pace that it took her breath away… and she had gulped and imagined – but no! – and then the tingling… that fierce, mindless tickle in her loins… with Brute panting away…
"Oooooooooohhh, Brute…" she found herself whispering huskily, her fingers moving in and out with increasing speed. And then it was her handsome daddy again, moving in and out between her legs, his hungry mouth clamped down on hers, kissing her soft succulent lips demandingly… his hips working in a mad rhythm… and then… then…
"Ooooohhhhhhh… AH! Honeeeeeeeey!" June twisted and turned on the bed as if in the grip of some obscene, soul-destroying torture. A wave of feeling combining aching pleasure with the sheerest agony washed through her shivering body from toenails to hair ends, momentarily convulsing her hot young flesh and making her cry out as if fighting off an invisible attacker, her hand continuing to work furiously within the burning hot confines of her churning young cunt. And then there was one long, endlessly drawn-out groan from her parched young lips, and a cascade of perspiration exposed itself on her smooth young skin, joining a post-climactic rash which had traveled swiftly up her arms and right to the base of her throat. She groaned, moaned and whined, her voice fading away little by little as she managed only slowly to loosen herself from the blinding outswell of her dream-induced orgasm. It was some time before her eyes opened again and she found herself staring at the ceiling, her body awash with perspiration, her lovely face flushed and warm, her thighs weak and trembling. Her loins felt as if they were lying in the sunshine of a warmish summer afternoon, quiet and content with a small surfeit of remaining pleasure echoing softly through the confines of her thighs.
"Oh, gosh," she breathed huskily, gulping as the force of her orgasm brought her fully awake. She tried to remember what it was that she had been thinking of in connection with Brute, but now somehow it seemed to escape her. Something about the two dogs in the park…
That was right. She remembered now. But why had she thought of Brute while she was making love to herself? Almost always she thought only of Daddy. He was so worldly and mature and handsome, with gleaming teeth in a big smile, thick curly black hair that always looked glossy and wet, broad shoulders, long legs and narrow hips, and an immense chest full of wiry black hairs. Daddy put the little boys in school to shame. He was such a man!
But gosh if he ever found out that she thought such things about him, there would be the devil to pay!
She cupped her, rounded young breasts softly in her hands and knocked away the sheet, sitting up so that she could look at herself in the mirror over her dresser, her long blonde hair falling away in back of her.
If Daddy ever saw her like this, she'd bet that he'd want her as much as she always wanted him in her dreams. Ah, but what was the use of dreaming! Was it her fault that she was so sexed up? No, if cousin Ronald hadn't started her thinking about it, she probably would never have started playing with herself and thinking about Daddy. So it really wasn't her fault.
But on the other hand, what could she do about it? Was there no way to turn back the tide, turn the clock around and go back to her former innocence, when she would never have dreamed of playing with herself?