CHAPTER TWO
The new Buick, the car Mummy had taken when she ran off with Tom, leaving us the old dented and faded Chevy, was parked in the drive when we arrived home. I looked at Daddy. There was a half-wistful, half-angry look in his eye. Stomping my foot, I blurted, "No! She can't come back now. Don't let her, Daddy. Don't. It'll ruin everything."
She was waiting at the front door, long gold blonde hair radiant from recent brushing, full red lips moist and smiling, and wearing the darndest tight satin green hot pants, skimpy halter, scuffs… yummy legs and pussy and big fucking boobs all over the place. Oh! I thought, wanting to strangle her. Did she have to come back when things were so perfect?
"Darling," breathed Mummy, throwing her arms around my secret love's neck, and mashing her stacked juicy body from neck to knee against him. "I was out of my head, sweetheart. Forgive me. Take me back. Please. Nanny-poo wants to come home."
Daddy cast a furtive glance my way. "I… um. I guess we can talk, Nan. Talking never hurt anyone."
I scowled. Talk my foot! I thought. Already the front of his pants were beginning to bulge, and there was no mistaking that hotsy look in his eye. For three whole days, almost nonstop I'd sucked his joint and let him fuck me in the ass, and now, after three seconds with her, even after what she'd done, he was willing-no! anxious!-to plow her wide sexy behind right there on the door step. Furious, thinking I'd poison her first, and dismember him next time I got that insatiable dick in my face, I followed them into the living room.
Acknowledging me finally, watermelon headlights still mashed flat on Daddy's chest, Mummy said, "Hi, luv. Did you take good care of our man while I was away?"
"Did I ever!" I balked.
Daddy cleared his throat. "She… ah… lately she's been very high strung," he managed in an unfamiliar voice. "The shock and everything. She's-well, she's only fourteen, Nan. Still a little girl. Not much more than a baby, actually."
"Daddy! How can you?"
"Don't contradict your father," chided Mummy. "He knows us girls best. Now be a good luv and go play with your little friend Debbie while he and I go into our bedroom and talk."
Boy! Did he ever know me best, I thought. I watched Mummy rub her snatch up and down his fly. What would she do if she knew, I wondered, tempted to tell. I looked from her to Daddy. He was grinning… wouldn't even look at me. It was horrible. I felt like the flat breasted chick at a beach party.
While I simmered, Daddy took hold of Mummy's arm and, fingers touching the side of one bouncy boob, cock standing straight out, started for the bedroom. He stopped. Looking at me, not a hint of remorse on his dark, handsome face, he said, "Do that, Ratty. Don't bother about supper. Take a few bucks from the grocery money in the kitchen and you and Debbie go have yourselves a time."
Without knocking, firecracker mad, intending to tell Debbie a -thing or two, I stormed into the Simon place. "Debra?"
No answer. I moved from the living room to the kitchen, found no one, came back. Again I called, moved to the stairs, listened. There didn't seem to be anyone home. I was about to leave when I heard strange sounds from above. Rustling noises. Soft voices. I flew up the stairs.
Debbie had just perched herself on the edge of the bed, legs wide, leaning far back on her hands. I knew they had just begun because Mr. Simon dropped to his knees as I reached the upstairs hall. I watched him bury his clean shaven red face between the girl's slender white thighs, and heard Debbie say, "Do it, Pops. Suck me good. Asshole too." She squealed a long string of abbreviated ohs as Mr. Simon's fat tongue lapped into her hairless pink gash.
I stood across from the open bedroom door, in line with the dresser mirror, where they couldn't see me but I could see their reflection in the glass. I watched Mr. Simon fish a stubby, uncircumcised cock from his pants, skin the head back, and thumb the bright red, tip. All by, itself, as if it had a mind of its own, as if I were Debbie and my fingers were her Popsy's slurping tongue, my hand slipped down inside the tight denim pinching my pussy. I leaned against the wall, legs wide, fingers moving up, up. I touched the elastic barrier. I tried to break it as Debbie's skinny calves snaked around Mr. Simon's thick neck… buttocks off the bed, eyes closed tight, wiggling her gaping hole in his face.
I, too, closed my eyes. Suddenly I was very sad. For I knew, could feel it, see it inside my head, that Daddy and Mummy were getting ready to screw. I could imagine him peeling off the hot pants, the halter. Mummy would giggle. Grunt. She'd reach for his tool. And then, when Daddy had stripped and climbed between her spread thighs, body rigid, positioning the nozzle head, she'd moan and arch her body and start the bedsprings squeaking. They'd fuck… for hours and hours… while I frigged myself off in the Simon upstairs hall… remembering the three days in the woods, and listening to plump Joe Simon eat Debbie. Boy!
I must have gasped or made some telltale sound. Because suddenly Mr. Simon was there, chin sloppy with fresh cum, chubby pole protruding from open pants. My mouth formed a surprised O. I was speechless, embarrassed, coming… unable to stop my fingers darting in and out, in and out.
"You like it, huh?"
"No!"
"Fuck you don't." Mr. Simon offered a pudgy hand. His breathing was harsh, loud. His round face grinned knowingly. He undid the button at my waist, unzipped the fly, and shimmied the jeans down my churning hips. "Let me do it," he said hoarsely, persuasively. "Move your hand, Give Uncle Joe a taste."
"Kathie?" Debbie's eyes flashed. Her face mirrored my initial surprise. She watched her father drop to his knees, shift my panties, and drink long and deep of the smell of my cunt. She squatted in the doorway, tiny hand working the rosebud protruding like a pink velvet derby from the pouting lips of her twat.
Soon I was coming again, gasping, unable to stand. Mr. Simon led me into the bedroom. He sat me on the edge of the bed, where Debbie had been seated a moment before, and began working the dungarees and panties down my jelly legs. He eyed my thighs, the wedge of black curly hair at top. His logish joint jerked. Would he fuck me, I wondered, lungs refusing to work, pussy tingling. I could almost see the thoughts racing through his mind: tight… hot… wet and ready. Again I thought of Daddy stoking his long delicious pole into Mummy.
Debbie sat close beside me, "Yours has hair," she whispered, lightly stroking my pussy. "Real softlike. Ummm!" Her tiny fingers probed for my clit. "Katty… it's the softest thing inside, too."
"Not you."
"Yes. I want to." Debbie's face dropped to my lap. Her small tongue flicked out. I shivered.
Mr. Simon lifted my legs and disentangled the jeans and panties from my feet. He let my legs down, coaxed my knees wide apart. Fingering Debbie's tight asshole, he said, "I always knew you'd be hot stuff. Fuck! I used to watch you undress when you were no bigger 'n Debbie. Your window's right across the yard from my bedroom. For years! Ever since the old woman died. One of these days, I used to promise myself, sitting there in the dark, watching your pussy hair grow, one of these days sweet little Kathie's gonna give ole Uncle Joe a taste of that stuff!" He skinned the excess meat from the head of his cock, stepped close.
I didn't have to be told. Saliva filled my mouth, hot and wet. I undid his belt. The pants slithered down white bony legs to his ankles. I pulled the shorts down. Closing one hand around his hot, pulsing dick, I palmed his nuts with the other. It was shorter by inches than Daddy's; smooth-skinned, where Daddy's was ridged and veiny, and not nearly as far around. But the cute little red glans, poking from its sheath like a rabbit's curious nose, had fascinated me from the moment I saw it. Now I licked it. He jumped.