“It really is hidden,” he said. “I never even knew it was here.”
“Most people don't.”
The sliding side door was long gone, the rear compartment filled with dead leaves and beer bottles. Only half of the windshield and a small part of the passenger's side window remained, the rest of the glass broken out ages ago.
“Watch where you step,” I cautioned. “The flooring's all rusty.”
The front passenger seat was gone and the dashboard was dented in several places as if someone had kicked it many times, hard. Tommy, actually. More beer and liquor bottles littered the floorboards in the front.
But the entire rear bench seat was mostly intact.
And the bottom part of the wide rear seat was covered by a relatively new light blue blanket. From our motel, in fact, though I'd never admit it. Also, many used condoms and condom wrappers had been tossed haphazardly onto the rusted floor.
“How old is this thing?” Tim wanted to know. He gingerly picked up part of an ancient Playboy Magazine. “This magazine's from 1978,” he said.
I could only shrug again.
“This van's always been here,” I told him. “My dad showed me how to get in here a year or so ago…”
“Your dad?” Tim asked, brightening as if everything was fine then. I mean, that sounded safe enough to him, I was sure, my own father showing me around here. “He did?”
“He sure did,” I remembered, secretly smiling at the long ago thought. “It was a lot of fun.”
It really was.
I was a limber blonde 10-year-old at the time, a little 4th-grader last year, and my father brought me to the hidden van one warm afternoon and fucked me on the old VW's back seat. But first he carefully put down one of the light blue blankets from our motel, for us to do it on.
“I don't want you getting your perfect little bare ass all dirty,” he'd told me. Then he added, “Your mother and I used to fuck in here all the time. It's been here for years and years.”
While my father took off his pants, I looked around the battered interior while slipping my own shorts and panties off.
“Daddy, it's like a private little fort in here,” I smiled. “Like a hideout!”
“Exactly.”
We both kept our tops on in case somebody who knew about the van wandered by, just so we could get dressed in a hurry. And with me soon lying on my back with my skinny legs spread wide, my father knelt between them on the seat with his cock standing straight out in front of him.
I was already so wet a little river of moisture was running out of me, right out of my bald slit and down into the crack of my bare butt. I'd been fucking my own dad an entire year by then, but each time was always just as exciting to me.
Maybe it was because even as a child I understood it was about the worst thing a father and daughter could possibly do. Of course, I guess that was part of the filthy appeal.
“Your cunt's so perfect, Maureen,” he told me, spreading apart the delicate lips of it with his fingers and looking straight up me. “It's like a pink, wet little work of art.”
I shrugged with a little smile.
My dad was always complimenting me on my pussy or my bare butt or my sweet little knockers. And I knew he meant it by the way he loved using his mouth on my skinny little body, all over me, every chance he got-sucking and kissing my nipples and my boobs, my pussy and even my asshole.
In fact, he and my mother loved licking my asshole and my pussy at the same time, one in front and one in back, such a dirty thing to do together, to their own daughter.
Especially when I'd come so hard with their mouths on me. It just got them both so outrageously excited.
“Thank you, Daddy,” I'd said in the van. I genuinely appreciated his appreciation of me. And his appreciation of my 10-year-old hairless little cunt. “But you're just saying it because I'm your kid.”
“Hardly,” he shook his head. “Your sweet cunt is the sweetest little cunt I've ever seen. Or tasted. In my entire life.”
I gave him a disbelieving look.
“Sweeter than mom's?” I wanted to know. For about the hundredth time. It was a little game we always played. “Is my cunt sweeter thanhercunt?”
And he always gave me the same answer. “Your little cunt's even sweeter than your mother's cunt,” he affirmed again. “But don't you ever tell her. We don't want to hurt her feelings.”
See? He did appreciate me.
Anyway, the older kids that always used the old van's backseat for sex still used our motel blanket. I knew because I'd been back there more than once after that first time with my dad.
Usually it was with one or more boys (once with five of them!) for exactly the same reason-to get fucked senseless, until I was groaning and sweaty and squirming all over.
I was quite the little gangbang girl, even at that tender young age.
Of course, that was also my fear, bringing Tim to the van. It was more than possible that Tommy or Paul or James or Randy or Keith of any of the many boys who'd fucked me on that very backseat would unexpectedly show up.
Which would take a lot of explaining on my part. Lying, I mean.
Anyway…
“Tim, It looks like a lot of kids have sex here,” I pointed to the many condoms. Almost as if I was shocked at the discovery. “It must be a make-out place now.”
He was studying the floor, too, then nodded. “I guess.”
I think it unsettled him a bit, the obvious evidence of a great deal of sexual activity in the van, even a soiled pair of some girl's silky panties left stuck to the floor. They were partly under the driver's seat.
So maybe the fact that I'd brought him here, me being no stranger to this particular location, caused him concern as well.
I took Tim's hand then and led him to the backseat, pulling him down onto the blanket with me. I could still see the particular cum stains my father had left on it our first time there: an array of dark splotches when he'd pulled his still-spurting cock out of me, his semen jetting out in multiple ribbons between my wide-open young thighs.
And I knew the stains he'd left were mingled with my own little-girl juices.
For some reason, my little pussy always got amazingly wet. Much more than normal, I'd been told many times. It was like I had an endless little oily river in there, that never stopped overflowing.
We'd spent about three hours on that seat, my father and I, in several interesting positions, my dad getting hard repeatedly and fucking me again and again. Of course, I'd sucked his thick cock between each time, to keep getting him stiff.
So that helped.
And it was kind of fun to taste my own juicy lubrication on my father's dick, each and every time I'd done it. We'd both been insanely aroused, crazily so, and I'd had one trembling orgasm after another.
It was the purest father-daughter quality time I'd ever spent with him.
“Tim, you can kiss me,” I prompted, beside him. “I really want you to.”
And so he did, the young boy leaning into me and pressing his mouth eagerly into mine. Our tongues once again found each other as his hands groped at me. I took one of his hands and slid it under my top, straight to my training bra. Then I helped him undo it so he could get to my budding breasts.
“Oh, God,” he breathed as his hands squeezed my bare boobs gently. I was positive they were the first tits he'd ever felt. “They're so firm!”
“It's because you've got me all hot,” I breathed right back. “My nipples are both all stiff, too!”
As if the prove it to himself, Tim's fingers immediately found one of my rubbery pink nipples and pulled at it. He rolled the tiny protuberance between his fingertips and got a dreamy little sigh from me.
It was like electric sparks were going straight from my overly-sensitive nipples down to my even more overly-sensitive clit.
“Keep doing it just like that!” I encouraged him, my breath growing steadily more ragged. “Squeeze my tits. You can suck on them, if you want.”
If he was shocked at my explicit talk, he didn't show it.