Of course, I knew it was a huge sin, a sickness, needing my own dad's dick like that, but it felt too good in my underage cunt to stop. Or resist. The depraved pleasure of it was almost more than I could bear.
“Daddy, I love it when you fuck me,” I breathed to him, a fact he knew well. “Your big hard dick's so deep in me! I'd rather fuck you than anybody else! Really! I love you so much…”
He gripped my narrow hips with both hands, holding me tightly as he started fucking me. When my father was fucking me, it blotted out everything else. It instantly became all I could think about, my concentration so intense at the insane pleasure I was getting overriding everything else in my very young world.
“I love you too, Maureen,” he told me, thrusting the entire length of his cock into me until I was breathing so hard I was shaky. “But you're not my filthy little slut, you're my little sweetheart!”
“No, Daddy!” I insisted, panting. “Iamyour little slut! A dirty slut! I like fucking somuch, I must be! A slut, a filthy little slut! Oh, God, keep fucking me! Harder, Daddy, fuck your dirty little slut of a daughter even harder!”
With my father fucking me from behind, and with my fingers still massaging my mother's quivering clit, I leaned forward and took one of my mom's distended pink nipples into my mouth.
Then I started sucking at it wetly.
“Oh God!” she groaned. “My nipples are so sensitive! You know all my good parts, Maureen, you really do!”
“I'm your dirty little slut, too,” I told her. “I love you, Mom, I do! And Daddy's fucking me so good! Uhhh! My pussy's goingcrazy!”
And my naked, squirming mother had her first orgasm of the night, her body tensing with a sharp groan escaping her lips, the sleek muscles in her bare thighs showing in sharp relief as she jerked up off the bench.
“I'm coming!” she gasped. “I'm coming sohard! Ohhh God! Yes, yes, yes, keep rubbing my clit, sweetie, keep at it! Uhhh! Uhhh! I love you so much, I love you sofuckingmuch!”
My gorgeous blond mom squirmed as if she was suddenly on fire, her swollen nipple hardening even more between my lips, her hips shaking uncontrollably as she climaxed a second time.
The machine fucked her without letup, that huge black dildo pumping into her spasming cunt with a life of its own as she squirmed and strained.
“It's like it's killing me!” she groaned yet again. “Ohhh, God!”
And after panting her way through still athirdorgasm, she went limp with a shuddering gasp.
At the same time, I felt my dad's rigid cock jerk tightly in my cunt, his cum suddenly spurting up into me in thick jets that filled me with further hot wetness. My bare inner thighs were soon soaked with his semen running out of me.
“Daddy!” I thrilled, the sensation of my own father ejaculating into my pussy triggering my own orgasm. “I'm coming, too! Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me evenharder! Fuck me!”
And he did.
His fingers dug into the soft flesh of my skinny hips as he poured all the semen he had into my cunt, shooting it up into me. He fucked me like a madman, pumping his dick into me in an even more furious tempo than the chrome machine had relentlessly fucked my mother.
“Don't stop, don't stop!” I pleaded with him. “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me as hard as you can! I'm still coming! Uhhh! Oh, God, I love tofuckso fucking much! Uhh! Just fuck your dirty little slut of a daughter all night!”
And fuck me he did, until it was my turn on the machine.
CHAPTER 5
When Tim and I reached the tennis courts in the park that morning, we discovered every court was taken, with more players sitting around waiting to play next. It would be a long wait.
“We should have gotten here earlier, I guess,” he told me, shaking his head. “Sorry, Maureen, I didn't realize it'd be so busy.”
“It's okay,” I said, then smiled. “Let's go over to our picnic table.”
He gave me a look when I mentionedourpicnic table, knowing what I was suggesting.
The park had many picnic tables scattered throughout its grounds, with several of them fairly private in wooded areas. This was especially true of the picnic setting we'd discovered two evenings earlier, roaming around, just talking and getting to know each other.
It was a small clearing, mostly hidden from view by trees and high bushes, with a wide, rough-hewn picnic table painted dark green. Next to it was a cement and iron-grated barbeque pit.
“All right,” he agreed, nodding. “Maybe the courts will open up a little later.”
“Exactly.”
As we headed over to the table, I took his hand, a bold move for a normal little 11-year-old girl, but not for me. The two of us were silent as we neared it and I was glad to see no one was using it. Tim was clearly nervous, even though this wasn't the first time we'd held hands.
And, of course, we'd already had our hands in each other's pants.
When we'd found the picnic table two evenings earlier, I'd taken Tim's hand then, too, and led him into the partially hidden clearing. He swallowed hard, but then gently tightened his hand on mine, thrilled-I'm certain-that I'd made the first move.
“This looks like a nice spot,” I said.
It was a place I knew very well, actually. But I acted as if we'd discovered it together, Tim and I. A romantic little setting. It was perfect for a couple of elementary school kids not certain what to do next, but with both of us liking the idea of some privacy to explore our options.
We'd known each other for almost two weeks, having met at the Greenbriar Mall's food court one happy afternoon, but we hadn't touched each other. Not even once in our many times together.
Not even 'accidentally,' if you know what I mean. Which I was usually pretty good at orchestrating.
“Let's sit in here awhile,” I'd smiled up at him, taking him right to the table. “It's more private.”
He nodded, but he obviously wasn't certain where this was heading. Boy-girl wise, that is. And it clearly made him nervous, though at the same time he seemed excited at the prospect of being alone with me.
“I can't stay out too late,” he said with an apologetic little shrug. “It'll be dark soon and my parents-”
I climbed up and sat on the table top, pulling him with me, so that we ended up next to each other. We were still holding hands, with our feet on the rough wooden bench seat below. He was in jeans and a pullover shirt and I was in my usual shorts and tee-shirt and sandals.
I kept my small purse at my side.
“We can just sit here a little while,” I suggested, innocently. And then, I turned to him and asked, “Have you ever kissed a girl?”
To which he awkwardly looked away.
“We played 'spin the bottle' at a party last month,” he admitted. “And they put me in the closet with Janey Whitlock, a girl in my 6th grade class. We kissed in the dark a few times. But when they opened the door, she told everybody I wasn't any good at it.”
I had to laugh.
“She said that?” I asked him. “What a little bitch!”
Tim just shrugged again, clearly uncomfortable with the memory. It even looked to me like he might be blushing.
“It was really embarrassing,” he admitted. “Later, Janey told me she only said it so the other girls wouldn't want to kiss me. And she wanted me to kiss her again. But I wouldn't do it.”
I had to shake my head.
So this was the kind of romantic adventures going on a year ahead of me, with public school kids-preteen girls already using their feminine wiles to protect what they wanted, namely boys, from other girls.
Girls like me.
“Do you want to kiss me?” I asked, giving his hand a little squeeze. “We can find a bottle and spin it, if you want…”
The tall gawky boy next to me shrugged at the suggestion, but then clumsily leaned into me. I puckered up and he closed his eyes and pressed his warm lips against mine, giving me a quick smack and then pulling away.
He opened his big brown eyes and looked to me expectantly.