Even in outline, the stiff length of Kathy's nipples showed. The square dots moved up when she hung her skirt. Her torso disappeared briefly behind the rectangular shadow of the cupboard door. The profiled curve of her firm buttocks made Mike's cock lengthen.
Fine strands of hair put a network of lines across Kathy's face. Her head turned and her upper body twisted when she undid her garters. The straps dangled enticingly from her slim hand when she hung the belt up.
Kathy bent and slid each stocking down. She straightened up and shook the gossamer shadows before folding them together. She opened the cupboard again and brought out a nightgown.
Mike cursed himself. He watched his own daughter like a voyeur, and his prick was harder than granite. He shut his eyes tight, but opened them within seconds. God damn! My little girl is growing up fast! Her mother's tits weren't much bigger than that when we were married!
Kathy stood facing the curtain. She raised her arms over her head and tiny curves showed the sides of her breasts. Even with her feet planted eighteen inches apart, the saddlelike fullness of her pelvis showed richly. The image on the curtain was so sharp that Mike saw the individual pout of each slender pussylip.
She's even growing hair! I bet it's as soft and fine as her mother's was, Mike thought. He'd glimpsed the softer shadow in the space between her thighs just as the hem of her nighty fell to mid-thigh.
"Daddy? Aren't you coming to bed? Kathy asked. She worked the latch of her bunk and pulled it down from the wall.
"Umm, yeah. Right away, honey. I, ah, was thinking about the meet." Mike winced when he thought of how that sounded. He realized that his rampant prick wasn't about to shrink, so he quit stalling. He brushed through the curtain and moaned inside. Why did I ever buy her that filmy little nightgown? Little girls shouldn't wear that kind of thing! Kathy had the sheet drawn up over her breast-tops. Thin, frilly pink straps rose over her shoulders and her straight, ash-blonde hair framed her face on the pillow.
Conscious of the throbbing mass in his crotch, Mike tried to turn away from his daughter's watching eyes. Her level gaze measured every part of him. He hung up his coat and shirt, then pulled the hammock from his cupboard and set it on the J-hooks he'd bolted to the walls.
Mike turned out the light. He sat on the big chair and removed his shoes and socks. His eyes became accustomed to the dark while he hung his pants and put them away. His prick shoved his boxers out like a tentpole.
Kathy timed it perfectly. She watched her father's shape move around in the darkness, heard his trousers slide down, then asked, "Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?" She saw him freeze, folded pajamas in his hands. Kathy recognized the lust-heavy aroma of his nervously sweating crotch.
"O-of course, baby girl. Just a second, okay?" Mike whisked his shorts off and thrashed his feet into his pajamas. He struggled into the cotton shirt before he knelt next to her bunk. He wanted his hard-on to stay well out of his daughter's sight.
Mike bent down to give Kathy a quick peck on the cheek. He couldn't trust his waning willpower much longer. He murmured, "Sleep well, Kathy," and brushed his lips against her face.
Kathy threw her arms around her father's neck. When Mike pulled his head back in surprise, she locked her mouth onto his. The little girl thrust her tongue against his teeth and felt him surrender.
Only for a moment. Mike broke away. His prick throbbed with rushing blood. "No! Goddammit, Kathy, you can't do that! He unwound her arms from around his neck. "It's wrong! Little girls aren't allowed to do that!”
Kathy bit her lip. She sniffled at him, heartbroken. "What about you and Mrs. Jackson? Are married women allowed to blow any man they want?”
"She didn't! What makes you think she did?" Mike cocked his arm, ready to backhand his frail daughter. He caught himself and stood up. "I don't want to hear you talk like that again. Where did you hear that expression?”
Kathy looked up at her pajama-clad father and burst into tears. "I saw you! I saw you in here naked with her! I finished working on our glider and saw you in here! Everybody knows she's a-a cheap slut!”
Mike looked down at Kathy. His stony glare melted as she curled into a tight ball around her pillow. He unclenched his fists and made as if to touch her.
No-I can't. Not the way I react. What is happening to me? I can't even comfort my own daughter without getting a hard-on!
Mike turned away and sat on the hammock. He watched his daughter shake with sobs until her sniffles faded into slow, regular breathing.
He lay on his back. The hammock swayed from side to side as he drifted off. His worried thoughts of his daughter and his need for his dead wife faded into a dream. Connie stood in front of him in the back yard of the little cottage they'd first shared. She looked as young and shapely as when Mike had first met her. Her hair, as light as Kathy's, but wavy, tumbled down her back. Without a word, Connie led him to the center of the yard. She turned and smiled at him, then let her long, sleeveless dress drop to the ground. His own clothes disappeared.
Connie knelt in front of him. Her breasts were as wide as dinner plates, rising to deep pink nipples. She scratched at his sac, drawing long, sharp fingernails along the hardening lump in front of hit rectum. She gently tickled the rosebud surface of his sphincter.
Mike's cock stiffened, growing to monstrous size. Connie made a thin leather thong appear in her hand and she cinched it tight just behind his glans. His cockhead swelled, turned purple. The strip of leather kept the neck of his penis as small as his finger.
His lissome blonde 'wife tied another string around her nipples. Each pink tip swelled larger than her thumbs. The coronas stretched tight. The strap dug into Connie's tender breasts, and her titties were topped 'with blood-red peaks.
Connie touched one tight-tied nipple against Mike's tortured penis. He winced at the touch. Another gout of blood raced to the hard knob. The akin of his prickhead was stretched smooth as glass.
Connie rose to her feet again. Little drops of clear moisture decorated the golden hairs of her pussy. Each hair stood out, distinct. Her muff was full and proud, puffing lighter than a cloud from the soft sweetness of her slim labia.
She spoke for the first time. "Lick gently,” she said, guiding his mouth to her thong-bound bosom. He touched his tongue to one crimson bulb, and Connie gasped.
Her nipple was rock-hard. It blazed with internal fire. Mike's tongue rolled around the swollen bud for long, lascivious seconds. He put his hand around her slender waist. His fingertips nearly touched, circling her delicate slimness.
Mike felt her soft, cool hand push his forehead away. Connie tugged him down in the soft carpet of the lawn. She lay on her side, facing him.
Mike stroked the slim curve of her side, down across her waist to the full swell of her hip. Her velvety skin was dry and warm.
Connie put her cool hand on his cock. She rubbed her palm over the length of his shaft, then flicked the loose ends of the leather strip against his balls.
Mike's cock quivered. The head of his prick grew until the end slit opened like a tiny mouth. Dampness glistened inside the tube.
Connie trailed the knotted end of the leather lace around the broad oval of his glans. She popped it once, twice, a third time against the open edges of the slit. It felt like sparks of static electricity building up in his dickhead.
She lowered her mouth toward his prick. Mike watched almost fearfully. Her white teeth showed, sharp and even. Her tongue flashed out like a snake and plunged into his urethra.
Painful ecstasy raced through him like the sound of tearing silk. Mike wanted to jerk his body away, but the agonizing sensation fascinated him. She speared the center of his cockhead again and Mike shuddered with the ghastly thrill. He moaned in his sleep.