“Won't you please let me suck you?” she begged me.
I hadn't been expecting anything like that, and I didn't have any hard on for her when she opened my pants, but she didn't mind that. She went down on it as soon as she had it out, and dragging at it with her lips, and every so often letting go of my prick and sucking one or the other of my balls into her mouth, she had it getting stiff in no time. I put my hands down through the neck of her dress, and played with her tits and watched my prick getting too big for her mouth. When it got really stiff she had to let part of it slip out of her mouth, but what she was able to keep she hung onto as though it was the last cock on earth.
She stopped Frenching me after a while, and gurgled something indistinctly around my prick.
“What did you say?” I asked her.
She let go of my prick with her mouth and hung onto it with her hands. “I want him to jazz me,” she said. “Mr. Jackson. I want him to screw me, but I'm afraid to, too.”
“All you have to do is sleep in your own bed tonight,” I told her. “I'm not advising you one way or the other. I'm just telling you.”
Jane rubbed the end of my cock against the flat of her tongue. “Let's go downstairs,” she said. “Could I have one of the Scotch sodas to drink?”
“I think we both need a drink,” I said.
Jane turned on the radio while I was making drinks, and Ruth came in from the porch. The light made her blink.
“Where's Jackson?” I asked.
Ruth took a drink too. “Shut up,” she explained tenderly. “Oh, hell,” she said, after another drink, “he's out on the swing, waiting for me to come back and be felt some more.”
“Your idea or his?”
“Mine, I guess. I've been teasing him all the time you've been gone, and as soon as Jane left he started.”
I finished the third drink pretty soon, and made another round, mainly for myself I hoped.
“He just got his hands on me and went to work,” Ruth went on. “I just about had to dress all over before I came in here. And he wanted to know if I Frenched. Imagine a man asking his daughter if she Frenches!”
“And what did you tell him?”
Ruth looked a little too defiant. “I told him that I did, and I almost went down on him right then. He tried to get me to. He didn't actually ask me to, but he tried to maneuver me into it. And I think I will. I've been jerking him off already, and I think I'll suck him off too, even if he is my own father. Did you ever hear of anything so bitchy?”
“Yes,” I said, “I think I have.”
I remembered what a fellow I once knew from India told me. He played the violin. Named Satya, as I remember. He told me that in parts of India all the kids are expected to suck off the old man a little before breakfast, just for a token of respect or something. The respect part seemed all right, but before breakfast! Christ!
Jackson came in, being hearty, and I gave him a drink. Ruth took him to the couch and they sat there together and we kept drinking, and she kept edging closer to him and finally he was feeling her up a little right there. Jane came over to me and sat on my lap. A moment came when suddenly everybody was silent.
“Does anyone know any card tricks?” Jackson asked.
The liquor affected Jane quicker than the rest of us. She said that she thought she was still able to stand on her head.
“Good,” said Ruth. “You stand on your head.”
Jane put a pillow in the middle of the room and set her forehead on it, and tried to lift her legs. Her dress fell and covered her head, and we all looked at her bare legs and her ass. She fell over three times.
“I'll help you,” Ruth said.
She held Jane's legs up, but instead of helping her to balance, she patted her ass, and stabbed her finger at the other girl's cunt. Jane wriggled and tried to push her dress up and away from her face.
“I can't see anything,” Jane said.
“That's all right,” said Ruth. “We can see everything. Both of the men are looking at you. I'm going to show my father what happened to your asshole.”
She dragged Jane across the floor by the legs and held her spread toward Jackson.
“Here,” she said to him. “Get a good look at her. All evening she's been trying to show herself off to you, and she'd do this herself if she wasn't a little afraid of you.”
“She certainly allows somebody to take a few liberties,” Jackson said. “Or is it in fashion now to paint your asshole?”
“Only when it's to be shown,” Ruth said.
“What about your own ass?” Jane said.
She got away from Ruth and pulled her dress away from her face, but she didn't try to hide her pussy.
“Why don't you show your own ass?” she said.
Ruth looked at her father. Then she slowly pulled up her dress and bent over with her ass almost up to his face.
“You couldn't see that out on the swing.”
Jackson yanked open his pants and got his cock out. He pulled Ruth backward to him, and when she sat down she sat down on his cock. She jumped when it goosed her. Jackson held her and I saw her losing her balance and she sat down hard again and that time it drove into her cunt.
Jane came over to me. She watched Jackson at work on Ruth's clothes, unfastening snaps and opening things, and she went after my cock. I helped her get it out of my pants.
“Stick it in my cunt fast and jazz me like he's jazzing her.”
Jane's throat seemed to catch. She gulped down most of another drink and lifted her dress and backed up to me.
I didn't pull her onto my lap. I stood up and bent her over the arm of a chair and gave it to her that way. Her belly rubbed on the arm of the chair.
“There won't be any question mark left when I'm through screwing you,” I said.
I pinched her ass and socked it in and almost knocked the chair over. I pulled her clothes off, and then I looked over to the couch and saw that Jackson had Ruth stripped naked too. Ruth had her hands between her legs and was holding Jackson's prick and was screwing up and down on it. Her tits bounced, and she was getting everything she could out of being fucked that way.
Ruth became interested in Jane and me and stopped jazzing, but her fingers never stopped scratching between her legs.
“Could you believe that when we came here that cock-crazy cunt had only been fucked once in her life?” she asked Jackson. “Look how she's taking it!”
Jackson lifted Ruth from his lap and lay on the couch, and he held his prick in her direction and shook it.
Td rather look at you taking this one,” he said. “The French way.”
“You'd really ask your daughter to suck your prick?” Ruth said.
“I wish I had half a dozen daughters like you. I might have, at that. Might not be a waste of time to go over my trap line again.”
“You'd probably turn up more than you could use. You'd have to make some arrangement, an endless belt thing. Hundreds of them, all on their knees moving by you. But I don't suppose they'd all think it was nice to have a father who wanted to jazz them.”
“If they were all like you I'd have to jazz them, whether they liked it or not.”
Ruth began taking off her father's clothes.
“Don't forget to show her the bullet scars,” I said. “She's interested in things like that. If you had something funny growing out of your back she'd like you better.”
“What bullet scars?” Jane said. “I want to see the bullet scars.”
“Oh my god!” I said.
I let her go. She leaned over the couch with her hands behind her back. Her tits swayed out.
“That thing isn't a bullet scar,” Ruth said. “You know better than that.”
Jackson showed them the marks on his back and the one under his arm.
“Do they do anything?” Jane asked.
“Yes,” Jackson said. “When a pretty girl like you is around they do something.”
“You're fooling me,” said Jane.
He pulled her onto the couch and she sat there quietly and let him squeeze her legs. She sat stiffly straight and Jackson patted her thighs sharply and laid his hand on her belly. Ruth touched Jane's tits. Jane just watched their hands moving over her body.