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The Scandalous Stewardess

Chapter 1

     The Bahamian island of Eleuthera is a saber-shaped spit of glistening
white coral sand in the crystalline waters of the Caribbean Sea.  One can
get there by boat or by plane.  It was on such a shuttle flight from
Nassau that Davie Knight sat and breathlessly looked out of the narrow
window on December 20th.  The sixteen year old kept knotting a silk scarf
between her hands, a gesture which could not escape the watchful notice of
the striking older blonde woman who sat next to her.  The twin-engine
plane was small and claustrophobic.  There was nothing but a sparkling
expanse of transparent blue sea below them.  Perhaps she's frightened, the
woman was thinking to herself as she surveyed the luscious fresh-faced
teen, whose long, glossy sable brown hair hung past her pert up-thrust
young breasts that were demurely hidden behind a navy blue cardigan
sweater.  An emblem sewn to tile sweater pocket identified the girl as a
student at one of the chic New York City parochial schools for rich girls.
     The young girl's large hazel eyes had an apprehensive look, and from
time to time, she would bite her full, sensuous lower lip.  Color flushed
the girl's smooth cheeks, though she wore no makeup.  Nor did she need
any.  Hers were the vital and strikingly delineated features of the
natural beauty.
     By contrast, the older blonde woman next to her had artfully used the
best cosmetics to embellish her sophisticated good looks.  Subtle blue eye
shadow and contrasting deep blue liner, plus a generous application of
rich black mascara added depth and intensity to her bright blue eyes.
Blusher and bronzes augmented an unexplainable sun tan in the middle of
winter, a sun tan which was apparent on the woman's smooth thighs and arms
when she removed her lightweight jacket.  A clinging beige knit mini-dress
did little to hide her ample braless breasts, whose firm nipples showed
pointedly under the fabric.
     The blonde studied the preoccupied teenager for a long moment,
looking intently at her face, and then up and down the length of her body,
almost the way a man would.  Her eyes narrowed, and she involuntarily
flicked her tongue out to lick her coral lips salaciously.  Then the
moment passed, and her expression became one of friendly concern as she
gently tugged at the teenager's sleeve and said, "Excuse me."
     She waited until the startled girl turned to her.  She's nervous as
hell, the blonde thought.  With a warm and reassuring smile, the woman
asked, "I didn't mean to startle you, but I was wondering if I could
answer any questions or just be of help.  I've flown this hop so many
times."
     Davie's eyes widened.  She seemed reassured.  "You have?" she asked
breathlessly.
     "Oh yes.  I'm a stewie.  But this time I'm deadheading.  This is my
vacation.  Are you on a school holiday . . . all by yourself?" she probed.
     "Well, sort of.  My father is meeting me though I'll be staying with
him "
     The blonde concealed her momentary disappointment.  "Oh, how nice.
Does he have a house on Eleuthera?"
     Actually, it's a resort.  French Leave."
     The blonde brightened visibly.  "What a coincidence!  That's where
I'll be staying, too!  So Peter Knight is your father!"
     "You know Daddy?" the girl asked with surprise.
     "Not personally, of course.  But this is my third visit to French
Leave.  I absolutely love it.  There's no place quite like it, don't you
think?  And your father is in a class by himself, too.  He has to be one
of the most attractive men in the world.  Matter of fact, you look a lot
like him.  You certainly have his eyes, and his coloring, and the same
kind of mouth . . . full and well-shaped."  (She had almost said "sensual"
but thought better of it.  Down girl, she had reminded herself.  Not yet.
Not yet.)
     Davie blushed, "Everyone says that Daddy and I look alike.  It makes
my mother furious.  You'd never know I was her daughter at all!" Davie
giggled mischievously.  She was obviously delighted by the affront to her
mother which the blonde quickly picked up on.  She pressed her inquiry.
     "It's a good thing your mother isn't here right now, isn't it?" the
blonde said with a between-us-girls look on her face.  She punctuated it
with a broad, sparkling smite, which put Davie further at ease.
     "Wow!  You can say that again!" Davie agreed, answering the smile
with eyes heavenward in an expression of relief.  "It's a good thing she
isn't here for a lot of reasons!"
     "But will she be meeting you, with your father?" the blonde inquired
casually.
     "Good grief, no!  She's back in New York, in her precious little
world of tea parties, shopping sprees and charity balls.  Yeeehhhck!"
Davie said emphatically.  "My parents have been divorced for three years."
     "I'm sorry to hear that, uh . . .
     "Davie."
     "What a beautiful name.  It suits you perfectly," the blonde cooed.
"I'm Trish Byers, Davie."
     "Happy to meet you, Miss Byers.  Everybody calls me Davie.  Everyone
except my mother . . .
     "Oh please--please call me Trish.  You make me feel a hundred and
fifty years old when you say Miss Byers!"
     "I'm sorry . . . Trish I didn't mean that at all.  You're beautiful.
It's just that at school they make us call everyone over twenty Miss or
Mister.  Force of habit, you know," Davie answered shyly.
     "Well that's one habit you can break right now--at least while you're
on vacation.  We'll be in Paradise in about twenty minutes.  Then it's off
with the school clothes and into the bikini for you!  You do have a
bikini, don't you?"
     "Yes!  Mummy sent me off with some square one-piece suit I wouldn't
be caught dead in.  That's typical of her. But the first thing I did when
I got off the plane at Nassau was run to the neatest shop and buy myself a
skimpy little hot pink number that's just a lot of strings crocheted
together.  Mummy would have a stroke if she knew!" Davie giggled girlishly
again.
     Trish grinned back in a conspiratorial way.  "Good for you, honey it
sounds as though 'mummy' is a little straight laced."
     Davie threw back her hands and brought them down on her thighs
emphatically.  "Ohhh!  You wouldn't believe it!  She is the most super
uptight, most hypocritical person in the whole world!  She makes my life
so miserable."
     "But she is letting you come all the way to Eleuthera by yourself for
Christmas.  That doesn't seem like something an uptight mother would do,"
Trish ventured.
     "Because she had to.  The judge made her do it.  She would never have
let me see my father otherwise.  She didn't want me to see him ever
again!" said Davie, and a look of distress crossed her lovely face.
     "How long has it been, honey?"
     "Three years!  I was thirteen when Daddy left.  I cried for a whole
month.  Mummy hated me for that, and it made her hate him more.  She
thought I'd forget about him and that he'd forget about me.  But it didn't
work that way.  At least, I haven't forgotten him.
     Trish reached over and placed a warm hand on the teen's knee and
patted it consolingly.  Now she knew the reason for the scarf knotting and
the fidgeting at the window.  It wasn't the plane ride, it was Daddy Davie
she was worried about.  Three years is a long time to be separated from
anyone.
     "It's going to be fine, just fine, Davie.  After a few hours, it'll
seem like your dad never went away.  You're going to love French Leave.
Everything is so beautiful, and everyone is so relaxed.  You won't want to
go back."
     "Do you really think so, Trish?  I mean, about Dad and me?  I know I
won't want to go back I never want to go back to that . . . that bitch!"
     Trish raised a carefully plucked eyebrow.  "That's a pretty strong
word, Davie,  Is it ready that bad?"
     "I hate her," Davie said levelly.  "She's made me go to that horrible
school all these years--that ghetto for nice girls from good families,
quote unquote.  It's a prison.  And she won't let me go out with boys or
have parties at home.  Yet she has parties!  I'm not supposed to know what
goes on.  We have this huge place, a condominium.  Lots of rooms.  My
'quarters' are off at one end, but I've seen a lot!  I know what goes on.
Mummy and her arty little fag decorator friends and swishy hairdressers.
It makes me want to puke."
     "I can't imagine any woman letting a man like your father go . . ."
offered Trish, hoping for more juicy details from the innocent girl.
     "That's just it--he's a real man.  Mummy doesn't want a real man
around.  She has to wear the pants in the family."
     "And your father obviously wants a real woman, doesn't he?"
     "Sure.  That's why he couldn't take it any more.  I think Mummy was
emasculating him, not treating him like a man; not giving him the love and
affection and . . . well, you know what I mean," Davie added shyly.
     "Sex?"
     "Exactly.  They had separate bedrooms.  That went on for almost a
year.  My father started coming home later and later from the office.  He
and my mother rarely even talked to each other.  Yet she insisted that he
had to go to all the stupid charity balls and parties, put on a front for
their friends.  One day he came home and packed all his things and left a
long letter for me and a two word note for my mother.  She never got over
that blow to her pride.  Even though she got everything--the apartment the
beach house on Long island, the car--and custody of me she has kept
punishing him in every way she could.  But she's punished me, too, by not
letting me see him for three years.  She's done everything she could to
turn me against him, and it's only made me love him more and resent her."
     "That really wasn't very smart of her, or fair at all, trying to turn
you against your father.  But she's obviously very bitter," Trish offered
sympathetically.
     "Really.  But so am I.  And I'm scared, too.  I mean, what if Daddy
doesn't want to be bothered with me?  I know he's very busy and I might be
in the way and . . ."
     "Nonsense!  Your father loves you very much, I know.  This is
probably the best thing that's happened to him in three years, Davie,"
Trish said in her most sincere, maternal manner as she once more placed
her haled on the lovely girl's and squeezed it reassuringly.  But inwardly
she was thinking about the lucky women Peter Knight must have screwed to
ecstasy with his beautiful cock.  She envied the women who had felt his
fiery hot cum in their pussies; the women who had felt his beautiful wet
mouth and tongue in their cunts, licking and sucking them to the heights
of cunnilingual rapture.  She felt her own cuntal juices begin to ooze
into her panties, and her clitoris throbbed with excitement.  But she
forced herself to maintain a masque of sympathetic and conciliatory
interest.  She wanted to be damned sure she didn't blow her game before
she got a chance to blow Peter Knight's hard cock!  Then there was his
sweet, virginal and oh-so-appealing daughter.  Trish had plans for her,
too.  Big, juicy plans!  "Everything is going to work out just fine, Davie
I know it will."
     "Do you really think so, Trish?  Do you?" the girl asked anxiously.
     "I know so.  There's not a thing to worry about.  You and your daddy
will get along just great.  And I'll be there.  You and I can do fun
things together when your dad's working.  And there'll be someone else who
might be fun for you . . ."
     "Someone else?  Who?" the teenager asked, her clear hazel eyes
growing wider.
     "My kid brother, Randy.  He's 19.  He's meeting me at the airport.
He works for the Pan Am radar installation on the island.  He's lots of
fun.
     "Does Randy know my father?"
     "A little.  It's a small island, you know.  And there aren't that
many whites.  So everybody sort of knows everybody else.  Randy lives at
the base on the other end of the island, with a bunch of other guys.  I'm
based in Nassau, but I come to Eleuthera every chance I get."
     "That's why you've got such a great tan, I guess.  I'm so white and
yucky looking, I'll have to hide out for a couple of days until I get
toasted!"
     The pilot's gravely voice interrupted on the intercom, "Ladies and
gentlemen, we are approaching the landing field.  Please be sure your seat
belts are securely fastened and extinguish all smoking material until you
are outside the field gates.  We hope you enjoy your stay in Eleuthera.
Thanks for being aboard."
     Davie peered out the plane window.  Her hands gripped the arm rests.
Trish Byers patted tile pretty brunette's arm gently.  "Don't worry,
honey.  Everything's going to work out fine just fine!"

*    *    *

     Among the dozen or so spectators who watched the small aircraft touch
down on the strip was a man who stood out by virtue of his proud, straight
bearing, his aura of confidence and his devastating good looks.  Peter
Knight was a man who would be noticed anywhere.  His body was firm and
muscular, without an ounce of excess fat.  His white slacks were
impeccably tailored and the navy blue polo shirt he wore accentuated his
broad chest and ample biceps.  He was a youthful forty, a man with the
features of Paul Newman, except that his eyes were hazel and his dark
brown wavy hair was only slightly streaked with strands of gray.  He was
deeply tanned, and had acquired little laugh lines around his deep-set
eyes.  He smiled readily, showing strong and even white teeth.  How
different was his expression now from the one Davie remembered when she
had seen him last three long years ago.  In those days, Peter Knight was a
successful commodity broker with a seat on the New York Stock Exchange.
He was harried and depressed usually, the sunny side of his nature
occluded by a bad marriage and what he called the "New York rat race'--
both of which he wanted out of.  He had always dreamed of opening his own
resort, but Davie's mother wouldn't hear of it.  She wanted the prestige,
the financial security, the social life that went with being a successful
broker's wife, though she had plenty of family money of her own and didn't
have to rely upon his income for the lavish and pointless lifestyle that
ensnared them.  It took guts to make the break, but Peter Knight felt
that, except for Davie, leaving New York was the best think he had ever
done.  The resort was an immediate success.  He always had tile Midas
touch for financial ventures.  But he was apprehensive about his little
girl.  What would she be like now?  Would he be able to handle her?  Had
three years of her mother's poison gotten to her after all?  Her letters
were warm and loving.  Still, he had to acknowledge that they really
didn't know each other very well.  They were both living with fantasies
and memories of the past.  She was sixteen now; a teenager.  Christ, he
didn't know a damned thing about teenagers . . . especially a sixteen year
old girl!
     Twelve passengers descended the metal stairs from the twin-engine
plane.  Peter Knight's heartbeat quickened as he spotted the shy and
stunning young girl who walked in the company of a flashy blonde he
recognized as a previous guest at the resort.  She was a stewardess, a hot
number who had made overtures to him in the past.  But he was very
cautious about getting involved with his paying clients.  It was too risky
for a lot of reasons.
     He went to the girls, a big appealing grin on his face.  His manner
was smooth and straightforward but his palms were damp.
     "Davie!  How are you, sweetheart?" he said as he rushed to embrace
his daughter.  Her sunny, angular little girl's body had been transformed
into the soft, round curves of a young woman.  He could feel the warmth of
her firm globular breasts against his chest as he hugged her.  Her glossy,
sable hair was fragrant with a clean herb scent, like wild grasses in a
field.  It was longer than before, framing her beautiful young face whose
clear, hazel eyes shone moistly from tears of emotion.
     "Oh Daddy, Daddy!  I thought I'd never see you again!" Davie cried.
She was almost sobbing now.
     Peter Knight held his daughter closely for another long moment, a
moment which was fraught with unvoiced emotion.  Then he was conscious of
the smiling blonde who was observing them from just a few feet away.  She
had the same faintly predatory look that had raised a red flag in his mind
when he had seen her before.  But he had to admit that she was a good-
looking broad all right, with the best pair of legs he had ever seen.  And
boobs that jutted out like ripe melons aching to be plucked.  She must
have fucked a thousand guys, he thought to himself.  I'll bet she's one
hellulva piece of ass.
     He extended his hand to Trish, "I'm Peter Knight.  I think we've met
at French Leave."
     Davie interjected excitedly.  "Oh excuse me, Trish, Daddy, this is my
friend, Trish Byers.  She's stayed with you before.  She's a stewardess
with Pan Am."
     He overlooked the innocent faux pas.  "Yes, I recognize Miss Byers as
one of our guests.  Nice to see you again, Miss Byers."
     "Daddy don't call her Miss Byers.  That makes her feel old.  She
wants to be called Trish."
     The blonde grinned with embarrassment, but she gave him a practiced
provocative look.
     "Can we give you a ride, Trish?" Peter Knight offered.
     "Thank you, but I'm being met by my brother."  She looked around then
and a glint of recognition crossed her face as she caught sight of a
shaggy haired youth who was leaning casually against a red MG convertible.
Trish waved at the boy, who made no move to approach.  When Knight turned
around, he recognized the boy as a frequent visitor to the resort bar.  He
thought it strange that the youth did not come forward.
     As though divining his thoughts, Trish quickly added, "Randy's very
shy.  But you'll meet him.  Well, Davie, I'll see you later, OK?"
     "Right, Trish.  And thanks for everything."
     The blonde winked at the school girl.  "There's nothing to thank me
for.  That's what friends are all about."

Chapter 2

     Once they were settled in the sleek silver Porsche and heading down
the road toward French Leave, Peter Knight and his daughter began to relax
in each other's company a bit.  There is something permissive and
seductive about a Caribbean Island, particularly one like Eleuthera, where
the brilliant semi-tropical sun and the absence of pressure invite one to
shed cares, clothing and convention.  This was Peter Knight's home ground
now, and he assumed the role of confident host and tour guide--though the
principal charm of Eleuthera is the absence of commerce and people such
commerce attracts.  Indeed, French Leave is the only tourist attraction.
There isn't much to "see" except the coral-studded sea and several miles
of pristine, white coral sand dotted with lush tropical vegetation.
     Davie couldn't get over the contrast between Eleuthera, where the
temperature was 78 degrees and they passed only a few Bahamian natives
along the road and an occasional car, and New York City, where the
temperature had been a bone-chilling 27, and the thousands of faces that
passed her were all uniformly gray and cheerless.  She pulled off her
sweater and slithered down in the black leather seat of her father's
sports car, letting the warm island breeze blow her shining dark hair away
from her face.  She closed her eyes and let the hot sun beat on her smooth
fair skin, feeling as though the weight of the world had been lifted from
her young shoulders.  Peter Knight stole a glance at his little girl,
noting again how much of a woman she had become in three years.  Her full
ripe breasts strained against her prim white blouse.  She had kicked off
her shoes and socks and her bare legs were smooth and slender beneath her
pleated shirt.  He had to remind himself that Davie was no longer a child
and he couldn't treat her as one now.  He also had to remind himself that
she was his daughter.
     "Did you have a nice chat with Trish Byers?" he suddenly asked.
Davie opened her eyes and looked at her father, "Oh yes, Daddy.  She's so
understanding.  Really a nice woman.  And so pretty, too.  She's a dish!"
     "Yes, Miss Byers is quite attractive.  But I'm sure she knows that."
     "She thinks you're quite something yourself."
     "Ohhh?" Knight reacted with surprise, though he knew that the
stewardess seemed to have the hots for him.  But he felt she probably had
the hots for most men; she seemed like the kind of woman who couldn't get
enough cock.  That's what he didn't like about her.  He liked a woman who
was more selective, who was harder to get.  There was no challenge with a
dame like Trish Byers--except to keep your pants up!  Still, she could
probably give a guy the fuck of his life.  She was one hot cunt all right.
As for her "brother," Peter didn't like tile cut of the kid's jib.  He
doubted that tile mop-haired youth really was her brother, though he might
he.  He didn't want his tender daughter mixed up with either of them,
though he didn't know how to tell Davie that without arousing suspicion in
her mind.  Besides, the kid had had enough controls from her bitch mother.
He wasn't about to start putting clamps on her the minute she arrived.  He
would see to it that every moment would be beautiful and memorable for
Davie.  He knew now that he wanted her with him always.  He desperately
hoped that she would want that too.

*    *    *

     About a mile behind, a red MG was cruising along the two-lane road
with its two blonde passengers.  Randy Ferris sat behind the wheel of the
sports car, his faded skin-tight jeans showing a huge bulge in the crotch
where his rock-hard cock was straining to be free of its denim prison.  It
had grown to gargantuan proportions under the skillful and incessant
manipulations of the blonde stewardess beside him.  His brown hand was
under her beige miniskirt and he was massaging the wet slit of her pussy
with his middle finger.
     "Geezus, baby, you're hot as a pistol.  You must not have been
gettin' it more than six times a day lately," he wisecracked.
     "I've had a run of bummers, honey.  Besides, you know how I feel
about your prick, lover.  There's just nobody who can do me like my li'l
ol' baby brother."
     "Yeah.  But you keep tryin', don'tcha?  I saw how you came on to
Knight--and his kid.  You'd like a taste of that stuff, wouldn't you?"
Randy said, looking at her with a cocksure smirk on his lean, handsome
face.
     "You don't miss a trick, do you sweetie?  That's why I feel so good
with you.  No games.  No pretense.  Just good, clean dirty sex--lots of
sucking and fucking, the way I like it," Trish answered, rubbing her
voluptuous breast against the youth's muscled arm.
     "So what about the Knight kid?  Have you gotten into her pussy yet?"
Randy teased.
     "Don't be silly.  It's only a twenty minute flight!" the stewardess
teased back.
     "Baby, I wouldn't put anything past you--even on a twelve passenger
plane in broad daylight!"
     "She's going to take a little longer.  She's been shut up in a
convent school with a lot of dried up nuns and a faggot-balling mother
who's out to make damned sure she doesn't get her precious little cherry
popped.  No wonder her old man took off.  Who could live with a bitch like
that?  I'll bet he's one helluva swordsman."
     "That hasn't done you much good so far, baby " Randy jibed.  "You
might have to stand in line for that dude."
     "You wouldn't want to lay money on that, would you, Covey?" Trish
purred, giving him a devilish look.
     Randy searched her face.  Her lips were curled in a confident smirk.
"G'wan," he said, "you don't think you're going to nag Knight and his
sweet-assed daughter too!"
     "That's exactly what I intend to do," Trish responded emphatically,
squeezing the lips of her pussy tighter around her brother's finger.  He
was her half-brother, actually, the product of a marriage between her
mother and step-father.  She and Randy had been balling for three years,
and he was a straight-A student in the sex education courses she gave him.
They had a unique relationship.  They both loved each other very much, and
yet there was no jealousy between them.  She urged Randy to get as much
pussy as he could, knowing of course that she would always be first with
him.  And she delighted in recounting every detail of her encounters in
bed with other men--and women.  Trish was 29 (though she looked a couple
of years younger) and she really had no intention of getting married.  It
would, unless she got a very exceptional man, put an end to her affair
with her kid brother, as well as various other men and women of her
acquaintance.  She would never sacrifice that for a home and a meal
ticket.
     "Not only am I going to nail that dynamic duo, but being the generous
and loving sister that I am, I'm going to see that you get a crack at that
virginal little pussy as well.
     Would you like that, my love?  Would you like to be first to split
her hot little cunt with your big hard prick?"
     "Are you kidding?  Christ, would l!  But you're out of your mind,
Trish.  Knight would have my balls on a spit if he ever found out.  My
balls--and yours, too!"
     "Trust me, precious.  Trust your sis.  Have I ever let you down?"
The youth shook his head.  "I won't this time, either.  Randy, I promise
you I won't.  Now finish me off, honey.  Finger me off.  I'm almost ready
to cum!"  And Trish scooted down further in the bucket seat, spread her
smooth, sun-tanned legs further apart, opening the wet crack of her
slippery cunt wider to her brother's skillful manipulations and closed her
eyes, while he fingered her to a thrilling orgasm in the topless MG on the
road to French Leave.

Chapter 3

     It was six o'clock.  The sun was brilliant but low in the December
sky as Trish and Randy settled down in the big bed in the attractive
bungalow which Trish had rented at French Leave.  They had both undressed
immediately, Trish still eager for the loving only her brother could give
her.  Her climax in the MG had only made her more eager for love making,
and she hungered for the youth's trim, sun-tanned body, for his young
mouth and his mammoth cock.  She never grew tired of making it with Randy.
The incestuous nature of their affair made it more exciting for both of
them.
     For Randy, there was no woman who could hold a candle to Trish in
bed--and he had taken her advice and fucked as many women as he could.
There were chicks of all sizes and shapes, chicks of all ages.  But Trish
led the pack by a country mile.  He surveyed her boldly.  What a bod!  She
was lying wantonly on the bed, her long, tanned legs spread wide in a
tantalizing pose, exposing the softly palpitating lips of her cunt to his
prurient gaze.  There were no patches of white to mar the even expanse of
tawny shin; Trish sunbathed in the buff.  Her firm, voluptuous breasts
stood like matched mountains demanding conquest, their berry-sized crests
already hard and quivering with anticipation.
     They began to kiss, filling each other's mouths with their wet
tongues.  His hot hands were on her breasts, stroking them, pinching the
nipples between his thumb and forefinger.  She arched her back, offering
him her luscious breasts to do with as he pleased.  She was already
moaning and squirming on the bed, her hand clutching her brother's stiff
cock and reaching below to stroke his hairy balls.  With the other hand,
she caressed his rippling back flesh and tickled the back of his neck
beneath his thick, shaggy blonde hair with the delicate tips of her
brightly lacquered nails.  Goosebumps rose on his flesh and he shivered
involuntarily with pleasure as he bent down to take her pouting nipple
into his mouth, sucking it gently at first, and then puffing a generous
portion of warm flesh into his oral siphon.
     "Oh God, baby!  Oh Randy!  Baby I've missed you so much.  Let me suck
your cock, baby.  I'm starved for your cock.  I'm thirsty for your cum.
     The blonde youth's cock leapt into full hardness at her lascivious
words; she never failed to make him rock-hard and compliant to her every
demand in bed.  Her wish was his command, and he got nothing but the
fullest pleasure in return for his obeisance to his horny sister.
     "Lie back, my baby, and let your ever-lovin' sis suck your sweet meat
until your delicious hot cum scalds my lips and tongue and throat."
     Randy wasted no time in doing as she asked.  He turned over and lay
on his back with his legs spread apart, anticipating the expert cock-
sucking he was going to get from his beautiful sexpot sister.  Trish was
fantastic.  She could almost fuck you off verbally, using all the right
words to make a guy heat up until he could almost cum from being "talked
off."
     Trish kneeled between her brother's legs, letting her soft blonde
hair cascade over her face to brush across Randy's jutting cock, which
stood upright like a truncheon from his loins.  He sucked in his breath as
she waved her head back and forth across his man-meat and his muscled
bronze thighs.  Then she scooted forward, until her pneumatic breasts were
cradling his prick in the hot cleavage, and she massaged his cock with the
warm globes of flesh.  This drove him crazy too.  He loved every moment of
the delicious agonizing pleasure, for the sperm was building up in his
balls already, and he could hardly wait until her lips were fastened
tightly around his cock and she was sucking his cum out as though it were
a vanilla malt.  He's meeting me at the airport.  He works for the Pan Am
radar installation on the island.
     Trish drew back and took his cock in her hand.  She began to stroke
it gently, teasingly, letting her fingers trace delicate patterns down the
length of his sex-flesh and around his straining balls.  Randy could
hardly stand it anymore.  He groaned with pleasure as her taunting
manipulations sent shivers of electric delight up and down his body.  Then
she lifted the heavy sac of his testicles and slid her finger beneath
them, to toy with the puckered ring of his anus, driving him to even
greater heights of anticipation.  Finally he could wait no longer.  Almost
pleadingly, he cried out to her, "Oh Trish, baby.  C'mon-suck it now.
Suck it!"
     "Yes, baby.  Yes, darling.  I'm going to suck it now.  I'm going to
put it in my mouth and suck and suck until you shoot that load of precious
cum down my throat!"  And she bent down immediately and fastened her soft,
moist lips around his cock, kissing the blood-engorged head lightly at
first, and then letting her tongue slide out between her lips to probe the
tiny slit in his cockhead, drinking away the clear lubricating ooze that
was to her as nectar is to a bee.  She mewled and purred with delight as
she savored the taste of her brother's cock juices on her taste buds.
Randy fastened his hands in her hair and urged his pelvis upward, driving
his cock deep into the warm grotto of her mouth.
     Trish opened her jaws to give him free passage to fuck up inside her
throat and then, like a Venus Fly Trap, she closed her coral lips over his
hardness and gripped his cock tightly.
     Her fiery tongue licked circles of molten lava along the underside of
his shaft, and she began to suck him lovingly, eliciting groans of
pleasure from the youth, who was writhing sensuously on the bed as she
sucked him and stroked his burgeoning balls with her free hand.
     Her sucking was accomplished and rhythmical now, as she confidently
licked and sucked her brother's cock, knowing--as only the skillful female
lover knows-that she would soon make him cum, and at the moment she wanted
him to.
     Randy lifted his head to watch her convoluted lips working hungrily
on his cock.  The sight of her sucking him never ceased to increase his
arousal and his loins tense and jerked upward into her face, all the
fleshy expanse disappearing with each forward thrust, except for a small
stretch of it that glistened with her wet saliva.
     Trish sucked wantonly, her mind consumed by her mouth's occupation.
She felt she had been born for this; to make love, to give pleasure with
her body and to receive it with her body.  She flashed on the remembered
image of Peter Knight standing so straight and dignified at the air field.
She allowed herself to imagine that it was his cock she was sucking off.
What a beautiful cock he must have, and how sweet his cum must be!  She
would taste it, all right.  She would for damned sure!  And as she thought
of Peter Knight, she sucked her brother's cock with even more verve and
determination, her breasts dancing wildly below her pumping head, bringing
Randy closer and closer to his longed-for release.
     "Suck it, SUCK IT OFF!" Randy urged, as he dropped his head back on
the pillow and closed his eyes.  For a moment, he pretended it was the
tender lips and tongue of Davie Knight that were ministering to his carnal
needs, that it was the pretty teenager who was sucking him off.  Despite
the square getup she was wearing, he had found her a super looking kid
with good boobs and legs.  There was something innocently sexy about her
that she probably wasn't even aware of.  She might be screwed up about sex
with the kind of life she must have lived, hut he wasn't so sure.  From
his experience, those sheltered little schoolgirls usually turned out to
be the wildest numbers on the block, once they had gotten laid.  Geezus,
it would really be a helluva hayride to get that tender young piece, shoot
his boiling cum down her throat, into her sweet virgin cunt, maybe even
her asshole . . . Trish just had to come through this time--he knew for
sure now that he really wanted that Knight chick!
     The impassioned blonde slaved over him, her body glistening from tiny
droplets of sweat.  The pressure was building in Randy's balls, she knew.
She had sucked him off so many times since that first night when she crept
into his bedroom and crawled under the sheet and placed his young cock
into her mouth while he was still fast asleep.  By the time he was fully
awake, he was too far gone to protest, though he had been totally shocked
to find his sister sucking him off.  But there had been a growing
attraction between them for a long time, and he had often jerked off at
night, cumming into a wad of Kleenex while having fantasies about his
older sister.
     Randy forget about Davie Knight.  He was consumed by thoughts of his
impending orgasm, and of the hot-blooded female who was blowing him so
beautifully, so perfectly, so much better than any other woman could do.
Trish was the best, the absolute best at everything in bed--sucking,
fucking, you name it.  He drove his cock into her mouth harder and harder,
pumping his loins against her face like a wild man until she gave a
protesting mumble--which only spurred him to more frenzied bucking in his
desire for the final release of semen in his scrotum.
     And then--
     "Ba-by . . . ohhh, baaa-byyy . . . I'm goring to . . .
     The first fiery eruption of cum took place and he was seized with an
epileptic trembling throughout his body as the torrent of white-hot fire
shot through the length of his cock.
     ". . . CUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMM.  Ahhhhhhgggghh!  Suuuuuuuccckh meeeeeeee!"
     He was gasping, his lips were drawn back against his teeth and his
brow was furrowed as though he were in agony.  His prick began a sudden
wild, convulsive jerking that flooded Trish's madly sucking mouth with
torrent after torrent of burning semen, bloating her cheeks and forcing
her to swallow desperately to keep from choking.  She was crooning
excitedly and ticking his testicles with the tips of her fingers as she
continued to suck and swallow without letup.
     Finally, with one last groan and convulsive shudder as the lovely
blonde stewardess drank the juices of his passion, Randy spiked the final
drops of his seed into her mouth.
     Trish continued to nibble gently at the fleshy instrument long after
Randy's body lay spent and motionless except for an occasional aftershock
from his quaking orgasm.  She always loved the way he came--powerfully,
explosively, and his climax went on and on.  With some guys, you'd never
know they had crossed the finish line if you didn't have something to mop
afterwards!
     At last, when she knew she milked every last drop of semen from his
balls for the time being, and when his rod began to lose some of its
hardness, Trish crawled up and kissed her brother on the mouth.  Randy
threw a heavy arm over her and sighed a sigh of total fulfillment.
     "That was . . . the greatest.  The best," he said thickly.  "Nobody
does it as good as you.  The best."
     Trish smiled broadly.  She agreed completely.  "Rest a while, love.
Then I'll give you a chance to nibble on my pussy.  And if you do it well,
if you really eat my pussy until you make me cum all over your wonderful
mouth and tongue, then . . . then, maybe, I'll tell you just how you're
going to get into little Davie Knight's sweet box!"
     At these words, Randy suddenly found himself alert.  His well-
satisfied cock began to lurch into hardness again.
     "Tell me!" he demanded.
     "Patience, love.  You might not be able to take it on an empty
stomach," she teased.
     Randy grinned.  "Yeah, you're right.  I think I'll have a bite to eat
first."  And with that he went straight to his task, licking and sucking
his sister's pussy until she did indeed cum all over his mouth.

*    *    *

     Peter Knight looked across the candlelit table at his daughter.  He
couldn't get over how much she had changed since he had left the luxurious
condominium on Park Avenue and moved to the Bahamas.  Davie had always
been a pretty little girl, even as a youngster.  But now!  Now she grown
into a real beauty.  She was wearing a floor-length dress, a cotton print
that was very girlish, and yet it delineated her trim waist and her
generous young breasts in a most provocative way.  Even her bare arms were
lovely.  Her large, hazel eyes glowed softly in the candlelight and seemed
almost golden.
     He was suddenly aware of the silence and the fact that he had been
staring at his daughter.  He cleared his throat.  "How's school this year,
darling?" he asked her in a somewhat forma tone.  (School was the last
thing on his mind, but it would get Davie to talking.)
     She wrinkled her nose, closed her small fist and made a "thumbs down"
gesture with her hand.  "Terrible.  The worst."
     "You're keeping your grades up, aren't you?" he asked earnestly.
(Davie was always a good student.  Bright as hell.)
     "Oh, sure . . . it's not that difficult--though the nuns throw as
much at us as they can.  The idle brain is the devil's workshop, don't you
know!  It's just that.
     "Just what, sweetheart?  Tell me," he urged, reaching across the
table and taking her hand in his.
     "Oh, Daddy, It's a horrible place!" she blurted . "They treat us like
children--or inmates!  It's a prison.  I absolutely hate it there.  I
always have."
     "I never realized that, Davie.  You don't say too much about it in
your letters."
     "I know I didn't want to worry you or anything.  I wanted you to
think I was happy . . . so you wouldn't feel bad about being so far away,"
she stated simply, as only an innocent can do.
     Peter Knight was genuinely touched.  This was his beloved daughter
speaking, the one person in the whole world he really loved.  She was his
daughter, and she was expressing concern for his needs, for his welfare.
He had left her and gone off, free as the wind, to pursue his dream.
     God, he never realized how much he had failed her!  He had thought of
his own selfish needs, rationalizing that Davie would be better in New
York with her mother and her school friends--something solid to depend
upon.  Sure, that was part of it.  But he hadn't allowed himself to
consider that maybe Davie would be happier with him.  After all, what
would he do with a teenage girl in the house?  How could he have any
action with a kid around?
     He thought ruefully how little action he had had in the past three
years.  Guests were out, as a rule.  Bad business.  The help--likewise.
Most of the women employees were married, and all were Bahamian blacks.
He wasn't about to "go native" to that degree!  So he usually hopped over
to Nassau when he had to get laid.  Those excursions were rarely
rewarding.  But then, how much can you say for a one night stand ever?
He'd just as soon jerk oft as fuck a woman he didn't give a damn about.
With Davie here before him now he realized how very much he did love her,
and how much of a void there had been in his life--how much larger that
void would be after she went back to New York.
     Covering his thoughts with an understanding smile, he sorted the
subject with another question.  "And how's your mother, Davie?"
     The lovely teen sighed heavily.  "Mother is mother--as always."  Then
pausing, she admitted, "I hate her guts."
     Knight was surprised by his daughter's frank and negative statement.
"Now, honey, you know you don't mean that!" he protested.
     "I know I do mean it, Daddy," she insisted, looking at him steadily
with her innocent thick-lashed eyes.  "She's a . . . a bitch!  A cold,
selfish bitch!  Sometimes I wish--I know I shouldn't say this . . .
Promise you won't tell--I wish she were dead!"
     "Davie!  Words like that are not very pretty coming from a young girl
like yourself.  Besides, your mother is your mother, and you know she
loves you very much.  She's trying to do what's best for you, darling."
     Not for a moment did Peter Knight have the conviction off his words.
He knew Francine was a bitch; knew she was cold and calculating.  He did
feel that she loved Davie--in her own way.  But he also knew that his
selfish society wife never really wanted to have a child, that she had
always resented Davie--now, probably more than ever, since she was
becoming a beautiful young woman and therefore, a threat!  Damn!  He was a
rotten bastard himself for leaving his precious daughter with that--bitch!
     "Do you call what's best having me raised by nurse-maids and
housekeepers?  Do you call what's best keeping boys away from me because
she's afraid I might do something to spoil her reputation?  She doesn't
trust me, you know.  Do you call what's best running around with airy
little fairies; having them in the house all the time; sleeping with
them?"  Tears were beginning to well up in Davie's eyes.  Her hand was
trembling.  "She does, you know.  My mother sleeps with homosexuals!  I've
seen her!"
     Peter Knight was shocked and outraged.  He never expected to hear
what came from the lips of his naive young daughter.  Rage began to burn
in his chest as he thought of Davie being sullied by witnessing her mother
in bed--and with a faggot!  It made him feel nauseous.  "You . . . you saw
your mother with a man?"
     "Oh, I wouldn't call him that!  And it wasn't just one--there were
two of them . . ." she sobbed.
     "WHAT???  But . . . but I . . ."  He was at a loss for words,
unwilling to voice the question.  He didn't have to.
     "One day I came home early from school.  I had just gotten the curse
and had these terrible cramps, so I got to go home.  The housekeeper was
out.  I was on the way to my room and I heard all these noises coming from
Mother's bedroom; mostly men's voices, although there were other sounds,
too.  It was so strange . . . I couldn't imagine what was going on, but it
all seemed kind of violent.  So I tiptoed down the hall.  The bedroom door
was open, so I just sort of looked in.
     She drew a deep breath.  The tears were rolling down her cheeks and
her young body was shaking with emotion.  "There were these two fairies on
the bed and they were . . . doing it, the way they do it . . . one behind
the other one.  And the one in front . . . well, there was my mother,
lying on her back, and her head was between his legs--the one in front--
and she was . . . she had his thing in her mouth and she was doing it to
him with her mouth!"
     "You saw that?  You saw that?  Oh my God!  Oh my poor darling girl!"
he said, rising from his chair and coming over to kneel beside her and hug
her to his broad chest.  He was almost as overcome with emotion as she
was.  She sobbed into his jacket and he stroked her silky hair, smelling
again the clean, untainted fragrance of wild grasses newly mown.  "Davie,
my darling Davie, I'm so sorry, darling.  So very, very sorry!" he said to
her, the anguish apparent in his voice.
     She went on, compelled to complete the gruesome story, which had lain
on her chest like a millstone.  She had kept her secret to herself, too
ashamed to tell her friends.  There was no one she could confide in, until
now.  "They didn't see me.  The guys had their backs to the door.  And my
mother well, naturally she couldn't see anyone but
that person.  He's her decorator, Lewis.  I didn't know the other one.  I
ran to my room and stayed there the rest of the day.  Oh Daddy, it was so
awful, so sick!  And all this time, I can't even have a party at the house
with boys!  I can't go to a dance or a movie or anything unless there's a
grownup along!  Yet she sends me to this school, so she can say, 'My
daughter goes to this very proper, very fashionable lah-dee-dah school for
rich girls.'  Hah!  If she only knew what went on there!"
     Now Peter Knight had another source of concern.  "What are you taking
about, Davie?"
     "Daddy, you wouldn't believe it.  Practically all the girls smoke
dope, and some even push it!  I've done it myself--smoked it a few times.
They call you a square if you don't.  And some of my friends drink.  Are
you shocked, Daddy, to find out that your little girl knows how to drink
and smoke dope?  I don't really dig it that much.  But I have to go along
with it.  Otherwise I won't have any friends at all!  But that's not the
worst.  There are other things you'd be shocked, Daddy, you really would
be."
     He was already as shocked as he ever expected to be.  Now, her last
statement had hinted of a thing he couldn't bear to face.  Not his little
girl.  Not Davie.  He gave her an incredulous and wounded look it conveyed
his thoughts.
     "Don't worry, Daddy I'm not talking about boys--although there's a
lot of that with some of the girls.  It's worse than that, in a way.  Do
you know what I'm taking about?"
     One apprehension exited only to be followed close on the heels by
another one.  His mind was racing.  He felt a terrible queasiness in the
pit of his stomach.
     "You don't mean . . .?"  He couldn't say it.
     "Slumber parties.  I didn't want to go when I found out what was
going on--what was expected of me.  But they gave me a really hard time.
Called me names and made fun of me.  So I . . . finally had to go along.
But I don't like myself for being weak.  I guess in some ways, that makes
me just about as rotten a person as my mother . . .
     "No, Davie, no!" he defended.  His jaw was clenched but there was
compassion in his eyes.  Compassion, pain and great love.  He blamed
himself for his daughter's debasement.  If only he had stayed in New York
. . . if only he hadn't run away to the solace of an island paradise . . .
But he knew all too well the futility of the 'if only" game--and it was a
game.  Now his task was to rescue Davie from the sordid existence her
mother had exposed her to.  Curse that bitch!  He would see to it that his
precious daughter was freed from her mother's clutches if it was the last
thing he did--even if it meant selling French Leave and moving to another
part of the country . . . or to another part of the world!
     But how?  Davie was still a minor, and in her mother's custody.  Yet
he knew perfectly well that if she wanted to live with him no judge in the
world would send a truant officer to drag her back to her mother.  Still,
Francine was vindictive--hadn't she kept Davie from seeing him for three
long years?  And she had money.  Next to fear, money was The Great
Persuader.  She might hound him to the ends of the earth, just to make him
suffer.  What could he do that would keep Francine off his back and Davie
in his life for as long as she wanted, until she was ready to go off on
her own?  He suddenly realized that he hadn't asked his daughter if she
would, in fact, like to remain with him.  Unless she did, his efforts
would all be in vain.
     He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and began to dab his
daughter's eyes very gently.  God, she was lovely.  It sickened him afresh
to recall the details of her mother's
perverted display.  What the hell had gone haywire with Francine?  He
always felt she preferred no sex to any kind of lovemaking at all!  But
then, that was with him.  How could she have turned on to faggots at this
stage in life!
     "Davie . . . sweetheart," he said softly.  "Tell me something.  I
want you to be completely honest, darling.  Don't say anything you don't
mean--not even to spare my feelings.  I've got to know the absolute truth,
OK?"
     She looked at him so earnestly, so ingenuously that he was
embarrassed at having asked for her honesty.  "Sure, Daddy I'll level with
you," she answered, managing a small but endearing smile.
     "Darling, do you think you could be happy living with me--I mean,
living with me for a long, long time; not just these next ten days?"
     She broke into an excited smile and threw her arms around his neck,
almost knocking him off balance as he kneeled on the floor.  "Oh, Daddy,
do you mean it?  Can I stay with you, forever?  Oh yes!  Yes, I want to be
with you, Daddy.  I love you so much!  You're the only person in the whole
world I love.  Don't send me back there, Daddy.  Please, please don't make
me go back!"
     Peter Knight hugged his daughter tightly as he kissed her forehead,
her eyes, her cheeks.  Nothing in the world could have made him happier at
that moment.  "Don't worry, darling, I won't.  It's all going to work out,
Davie.  Everything's going to be fine--just fine!"
     She drew back from him, a quizzical look on her beautiful face.
"That's funny . . ."
     "Funny?"  He was puzzled.
     "Yeah.  Trish said the same thing . . ."

Chapter 4

     The day dawned predictably golden on the island of Eleuthera.
Lavender fingers of light were reaching up into the sky when Randy Ferris
cautiously opened the door of the bungalow he had shared with his sister
the night before and made his way to the red MG parked down the road.  He
had to work today.  But he would be back at French Leave tonight . . . in
time to get acquainted with Davie Knight!  Then, tomorrow .  .  . tomorrow
would be the beginning of a glorious weekend and--if Trish knew what she
was talking about--a glorious fuck with the delectable virgin schoolgirl!
Hell, it just might be the beginning of a ten-day orgy with the kid!
Trish's plan was risky--Knight was a tough nut to crack.  But if she
pulled it off (and if anyone could pull it off, she could) he'd be in cunt
heaven in less than thirty-six hours!
     His thoughts, and the delicious anticipation of the lay that lay in
store for him--oh, please!--gave him a huge erection on the way to the
car.  Down, boy, he commanded the willful instrument, you'll get your
chance to dance . . . in her pants!
     In another part of the compound, Peter Knight awoke at his customary
time: 5:30 A.M., sporting a huge erection.  He had been dreaming, and his
dreams were blurred but erotic.  He had slept badly the night before,
tortured by the remembrance of what Davie had told him about her mother
and the shocking things that went on at school.  But the sordid expose had
also led his sexual fantasies as he lay awake tossing fitfully, his
beleaguered mind giving him repetitive instant replays of the conversation
with his darling daughter.  In moments of surcease he was badgered with
questions, and spent the rest of his insomniacal moments trying to devise
a scheme for successfully keeping Davie at his side.
     He tried to force the intruding fantasies from his mind, but they
persisted maddeningly.  His pulse quickened and his breathing became
abbreviated.  His mouth was dry and the tingling in his loins increased.
Goddammit! he swore under his breath, what's the matter with me?  I'm a
civilized man, not an animal.  I can't allow myself to get hot--not now.
Not with Davie in the next room!
     He looked across the room and beyond, to the enclosed lanai where his
daughter lay asleep on the long, broad daybed that also served as a couch.
It was customarily adorned with huge, floppy cushions and was a favorite
place of his for reading or just having a drink and looking at the beach
and sea.  Now his lovely daughter adorned it.  She had kicked off the
light covers and was sprawled on her back, one arm above her head and the
opposing knee drawn up to her waist, exposing the crotch of the pale blue
nylon pajama panties that she wore under her sleeveless, shortie gown.
Even at a distance of fifteen feet, Knight could see a few wisps of
delicate dark pubic curls escaping from beneath the elastic band.  The
saucy mounds of Davie's firm, young breasts were well delineated by the
supple fabric, too, and they rose and fell as she breathed rhythmically
during her deep and innocent slumber.
     He closed his eyes, trying to blink away the forbidden desire that
engulfed him.  No!  I can't think such thoughts!  She's a child, an
innocent child.  She's my daughter, for chrissakes!  No!
     He threw off the sheet and stumbled across the room, reaching for his
shorts as he clumsily made his way to the bathroom.  He turned the knob
with a sweaty palm and darted in, closing the door softly behind him.  He
leaned against it, panting now, clutching his underwear in his hand.
Sweat dripped from his brow and beaded in the crease at his waistline.  He
shook his head like a fighter who's been decked, trying to rid himself of
his forbidden thoughts. God, he must be sick to think what he thought . .
. his own daughter!
     He gave a quiet moan and shakily raised his leg in an attempt to step
into his shorts.  But he fell against the shower door and had to steady
himself.  He reached inside and turned on the faucets.  Then he tossed his
shorts on the floor and got into the shower, his penis larger and harder
than before.  He had to have release.
     Almost mindless with desire, Peter Knight planted his feet wide apart
on the cool the of the shower stall floor and let the warm fountain of
water cascade over his naked body as he took his granite-like cock in his
hand and began to stroke the hot, petal-soft skin lightly.  His other hand
reached for his pendulous balls and cupped them.  His mouth was open and
his breathing was coarse and spastic.
     Responding to the pleasure sensations that were building in his
loins, he increased the tempo of his stroking and tightened his grip on
his enormous prick.  The head was purple with lust, and the veins bulged
on the upthrust underside.  Damn!  It was a truncheon all right!
     His balls grew taut, taking up the slack in his scrotum.  His chest
heaved as his breathing grew snore labored.  He kept increasing the pace
of his stroking.  Faster and faster, harder and harder.  God, it felt
good.  He was getting closer and closer.
     The little devils of desire led lurid and forbidden fantasies to him
as rapidly as he stroked his heated cock.  They shoveled the fuel for his
tortured fire of incestuous lust . . . faster and faster, harder and
harder . . . until . . .
     His body stiffened and his muscles tensed perceptibly.  His bare feet
gripped the tile floor as he gasped loudly.  "Ahhhhharrrraaaannngghh!" he
cried and shoved the back of his free fist into his mouth to muffle the
sound that accompanied the release of semen from his balls.  "Ooooohhhhh!"
he cried again as the fiery load of cum escaped from the mouth of his
glans in a creamy eruption of pent-up jism.  He thought it would never
stop.  He threw his head back and swayed like a sapling in a strong wind
until his balls gave out the last of their cargo and he was free to take
his fist from between his teeth.
     He braced himself against the back of the stall then, heaving a heavy
sigh and allowing the descending jets of water to wash the last of his
foamy cum down the drain.  The handsome man was suddenly seized with a
feeling of sadness.  Sadness, longing, and anxiety.  God, this is
terrible!  I can't allow myself to lose control like this.  I can't allow
those thoughts to overtake me.  That would ruin everything for Davie and
me.  I've got to keep things under control!  I've simply got to!
     He grabbed a pair of swim trunks and hastily pulled them on.  Then he
went out of the bathroom and out of the house, jogging along the beach for
over a mile.  Afterwards, he plunged into the tepid water and swam far out
to sea and back, asking the beneficent Caribbean to cleanse him of his
unholy thoughts.
     It was 7:40 by the time he got back, and Davie was up and dressed and
preparing a simple breakfast of toast and dry cereal.  The smell of
freshly brewed coffee wafted into his nostril.
     "Daddy, you're back!" she cried, running up to him and grabbing him
around the neck in an uninhibited hug.  She crushed her breasts against
his chest and planted harmless kisses on his cheeks--harmless by intent,
not by effect.  The devils cackled within him, and he pulled away from her
so abruptly he noted a momentary look of bewilderment on her fresh face.
     'Good morning, sunshine.  How did you sleep?" he asked cheerily.
     "Super.  Better than I can remember since the last time you tucked me
in bed when I was a little girl," she beamed.  "It's so peaceful here, so
quiet and warm.  No wonder you love it.  So do I.  I never want to leave
this place, Daddy."
     "I knew you'd love it, sweetheart."  He noted the table with the food
awaiting them.  "My, doesn't that look attractive.  And coffee, too.  I
didn't know you could cook."
     "I can't, really.  It doesn't take brains to put cereal in a bowl,"
she grinned.
     "Sorry I don't have much food in the house, sweetie.  I usually eat
up at the big dining room.  They have great, gargantuan spreads for all
the meals.  It's the one thing about French Leave your daddy can take
total credit for.  All the other attractions have been thoughtfully
provided by Mother Nature."
     Davie giggled.  "You're just being modest, Daddy."  She was relaxed
and carefree and obviously very happy.  He couldn't let her down.  He
wouldn't fail her this time . . .
     She noticed that his cup was half empty.  Without waiting for him to
finish it, she got up and went to fetch the coffee pot, giving him an
unrestricted view at her long, lean legs and her high molded buttocks that
bounced ever so slightly as she gingerly walked over to the stove.  When
she turned around, he could see her sculptured young bosom standing
proudly beneath the revealing pink and white striped seersucker shorts.
She was an adorable little girl . . . his adorable little girl.  But an
evil voice inside his head piped up.  "Who are you trying to kid, wiseguy?
She's adorable, all right.  But she sure as hell isn't a little girl!
She's a young woman--a beautiful, sexy young woman . . . even if she is
your daughter!  Now what are you going to do about it?"
     Davie was straightening things up around the house after her father
left for the lodge when she heard a persistent knock on the door.  She
looked up at the kitchen wall clock.  9:30.  I wonder who that could be,
she thought.
     It was Trish, in all her suntanned glory, wearing the briefest bikini
Davie had ever seen and carrying a large straw tote bag.  Her eyes were
hidden under enormous glasses with smoky brown lenses.  "Hi," she said
cheerily, "remember me?"
     "Hi, Trish!" Davie answered enthusiastically.  "Gee, you're up early.
You look smashing!  Come on in."
     "Well, where's that bikini you were telling me about?  I thought
you'd be down at the beaching getting toasted by this time," the blonde
stewardess said through a full smile.
     "It's only 9:30, Trish.  I was just getting the place prepared for my
absence!" Davie grinned back at her.
     "It's perfect right now.  Looks like you just had a cleaning service
in.  Let's go, huh?  You've got a lot of sunning to do, you know.  Right?"
     "For sure!  I won't be a minute," Davie said as she hurried into the
other room to change.
     They walked a long way along the beach, away from the resort.  The
white sand felt like sugar under Davie's feet.  It was already quite warm.
Trish had a lunch for the two of them packed in her tote bag.  She
explained that the resort provides them for its guests on advance notice,
so people won't have to come back to the dining room at midday, if they
don't wish to.  And of course, she had no intention of breaking up her day
with Davie by appearing in the dining room during lunch, where Peter
Knight would see the two of them together and possibly take a dim view of
the situation.  Of course, she intended to justify any disapproval that
might be forthcoming from that hard-to-get hunk of man--and then some!
But by the time he found out, he would be in no position to protest!
     Trish stole surreptitious glances at her young protege, noting with
growing relish that Davie was even more promising than she anticipated.
In her brief, crocheted bikini, the young girl was more enticing than
ever, her firmly rounded breasts plumped like pillows in the low-cut bra
top.  Her skin was creamy and unmarred.  It looked as soft as satin.  Her
young buttocks were two mounds of softly muscled flesh, and she had a
trim, flat tummy and a perfect little navel that Trish wanted to stick her
tongue into.  Of course, that wasn't the only thing she wanted to stick
her tongue in!  She could imagine how sweet that little pussy must taste,
how fragrant it would be.  Her own pussy was beginning to twitch with
desire, and she felt her clitoris swell and throb with perverted longing
for the teenager.  The hardest thing she would have to do that day would
be play the lady, the sympathetic friend . . . to keep her hands off of
Davie's body and her tongue out of Davie's cunt!  Geezus, what a test!
     They found a secluded spot about three quarters of a mile down the
beach and spread their beach towels out on the warm sand.  It was fairly
hot by this time, and Trish wasted no time in stripping off her bikini,
being as casual and offhanded about it as she could.
     "I hope you don't mind, honey," she explained, "I just can't stand to
wear these things when I don't have to.  Besides, I'm the vain type--can't
bear to have strap marks and patches of white."
     "Sure, I know what you mean.  Don't worry about it.  You have a
beautiful tan, Trish.  I can't stand the way I look next to you.  I feel
like Snow White!"
     "Well, then, join the club!" Trish coaxed.  She said no more then but
lay on her stomach with her face turned away, giving Davie a chance to
decide on her own what to do.  She smiled to herself when she heard the
sounds of a bikini being removed.  She had to walk on glass, now.  Every
word, every gesture had to be positioned just right.
     It wasn't long before she stretched out a languid arm and reached
into her tote bag, fumbling for something inside.  She soon produced a
large bottle of sun tan oil in an amber bottle.  It had a French label.
"Here," she said, reaching behind her back, "use this stuff.  It's the
best I've ever tried.  It's got a tanning booster in it too, to turn you a
golden brown."
     Davie took the bottle.  "Don't you want to put some on, Trish?"
     "After you, honey," the stewardess offered.
     "I'll put it on your back, if you'd like me to," Davie said
innocently.
     "Hey, that would be great."  She still hadn't turned around to look
at the young girl's naked body.  She didn't dare just yet.
     The teenager poured some of the liquid into her hand and placed it on
the blonde woman's warm back.  As she rubbed it around the expanse of
flesh, she noticed her older friend beginning to squirm slightly on the
beach towel.  "Don't be afraid to use it generously, honey," the woman
told her.  "This island sun can be brutal, even in December."
     Davie administered more of tile pleasant liquid to her friend's
flesh, which glistened with it under the sun's glare.  Finally, Trish
asked her to stop.
     "That's perfect.  Thanks, honey.  Now I'll do yours."
     She rose up and turned on her elbow before Davie had a chance to lie
down on her stomach.  The young girl was somewhat embarrassed to see her
older friend looking at her naked body--though she had certainly been
naked with some of her friends at school.  Perhaps the memory those
occasions gave her more reason for embarrassment.
     Quickly, Davie rolled over on her tummy, but not before her oversexed
companion had taken in her ripe, luscious breasts with the small, pert
nipples, and the soft pubic nest that marked the seat of her womanhood.
Controlling herself for the next several hours would he as great a
challenge as she faced in a long, long time.
     Davie's skin was baby soft, and she had no excess fat anywhere, nor
any blemishes.  Trish began the application of sun tan oil in a detached,
professional manner.  But it wasn't long before her stroking became more
studied and she was caressing the girl's flesh with her hand.  If Davie
noticed, she didn't react noticeably.  She passively allowed the blonde to
apply it on her long, well-shaped legs, and to the backs of her
outstretched arms.  Trish kneeled beside her and lightly pressed her bent
leg next to Davie's body.  The stewardess was afraid to breathe, lest her
breathlessness give her away.  Neither of them said much.  Finally, she
gave Davie a playful whack on the rump--wishing instead that she was
kissing it with her lips and reaching between the ripe ass cheeks with her
finger--and said, "You're all set, except for the front.  I think you can
get that yourself."  She waited while Davie turned over, glancing quickly
again at her beautiful young breasts.  Then she handed her the bottle,
accompanying the gesture with a warm smile, and got up.
     Later, she pulled a couple of magazines out of the straw bag and
handed one of them to Davie; the fashion magazine.  Trish thumbed idly
through the VIVA copy, knowing that the sexy photographs of naked men and
women would arouse the teen's curiosity.  It wasn't curiosity that was
aroused in Trish--it was her cunt.  Lying in the hot sun, reading the
frank confessions from readers and the bold, permissive captions under the
glossy photographs of good looking naked studs and their girlfriends,
Trish found it impossible not to squeeze her thighs together so that the
lips of her pussy created a satisfying friction on her throbbing,
distended clit.  From the corner of her eye,  she noticed Davie stealing
furtive glances at the sexy spreads as she pretended to be engrossed in
photographs of stilted mannequins posing in high fashion getups that were
much too sophisticated for her age group.
     "Well . . . I'll be darned!" she said suddenly, as she turned to the
feature spread.  "He's a dead ringer for Randy!"
     Davie leaned over with great interest.  "Let me see," she demanded.
     Trish started to show the young girl, then withdrew the magazine,
pretending concern.  "No, I really shouldn't show it to you.  This rag is
not the sort of thing for innocent young eyes like yours, Davie."
     "Don't be silly.  I've read VIVA lots of times.  There's always an
issue or two stashed in somebody's locker at school," she insisted.  "I'm
not a little girl, you know."
     Trish looked at her warily.  "Of course you're not, Davie.  I didn't
mean to offend you.  I just thought that it might not be the proper thing
to do . . . to show you.  These photos leave nothing to the imagination,"
she said, giving Davie a warm and knowing smile.
     "Why do you think the kids at school buy them!"
     Both females laughed then as Trish opened the magazine again to the
sexy shots.  There was a photograph of a good looking young blonde man
straddling a full breasted oriental girl with shimmering black hair down
to her waist.  He was feeding her grapes, and she had her tongue
outstretched and her back arched in a most provocative way as he
tantalized her with the dewy fruit.  It was sexy as hell.  The man's
muscles were highlighted and his hard buttocks glistened like the
hindquarters of a stallion.
     "Isn't that amazing--if I didn't know better, I'd swear it was
Randy!" Trish enthused.  "You saw him at the air field yesterday.  Don't
you think my brother looks like this guy?"
     "I didn't get a real good look, but I can see the resemblance," Davie
agreed, studying the photograph carefully.  She was stirred by the
prurient picture.  It set her imagination to work, which was the intention
of the editors--as well as the crafty blonde lying next to her.
     "Randy is a beautiful boy, even if he is my brother," Trish went on.
"Perfect build.  He's a very physical kind of guy.  Always doing something
athletic.  He was a star on the game field at school."  (And he's a star
in the bedroom, too, she felt like saying . . . as you'll soon find out,
my sweet young lamb!)
     Trish flipped the page.  More shots of the handsome young man and his
Oriental chick.  He was very well hung; a beautiful set of equipment.
God, he really did look like Randy . . . right down to his cock and balls.
Trish wanted to lick the page.  She wanted to suck her brother's cock
again.  And she wanted to suck Davie Knight's beautiful pussy!
     The sexy photographs were having the desired effect on the
impressionable teenager.  She felt a forbidden stirring of desire in her
own loins as she devoured the blatant poses of the couple in various acts
of pretend lovemaking.  She had never been with a boy before--Mother had
seen to that; though there were some close calls a couple of times.
French kissing and feeling a boy's hand on her covered breast.  But there
had never been the right circumstances where she had the privacy and the
freedom to "go all the way."  Still, she had gotten very excited during
those harmless encounters, feeling an embarrassing wetness in her panties
and something in her vagina that made her want to have a boy's thing
inside.  Several of her girlfriends were no longer virgins, and she had
gotten an earful about some of their sessions with boys  It had excited
her very much.  But she also felt afraid.
     Her thoughts turned to her father.  What is he like with a woman, she
wondered.  She substituted her father for the man in the photograph
momentarily, but her thoughts produced a feeling of guilt and anxiety in
her callow mind, and she quickly blanked them out.
     Suddenly Trish asked her a question she didn't expect, "Have you ever
made love, Davie?"
     The young girl's face grew crimson and she hung her head.  "No, I've
never been with a guy," she answered quietly.  Not with a guy! her guilty
thoughts reminded her.  Only with other females!
     "You're kind of young, I guess," said Trish.  "No rush . . . although
I was about your age--maybe a year younger--when I did it the first time.
I never realized anything could be so beautiful . . .
     "Was it really, Trish?" Davie asked eagerly.  She was dying to hear
more.  Desire for forbidden fruit was building rapidly in her young body.
     "Oh yes!  So beautiful.  Naturally, I was scared to death at first.
But I was lucky . . . he was a few years older; about 19 or 20, I think.
He'd already had a lot of experience, so he knew what I was going through
in my head.  He was very gentle."
     "Didn't it hurt, Trish?" Davie inquired intently.
     "Oh sure, at first.  But then, pretty soon it felt so wonderful that
the pain went away and it was nothing but rainbows and lollipops from then
on."
     "But how did you feel afterwards?  I mean, didn't you feel guilty or
anything?  Weren't you afraid that he'd lose respect for you?"
     "Honey, I guess I'm the type who doesn't let guilt trips spoil my
fun.  No, I can't honestly say that I felt any way except absolutely
marvelous and eager to be with him again.  But that's just me.  Everybody
has to march to his own drummer.  My little drummer boy says, "Come and
get it!"
     Davie laughed.  They both did.  But her mind was churning with a
thousand unresolved questions.
     "Hey, don't mind me, Davie.  I guess I really shouldn't be talking to
you like this woman to woman," Trish apologized.
     "No, Trish, you're mistaken.  I need to talk to another woman;
someone who's experienced and mature.  I can't talk to my mother--no way!
And my friends at school, well, they're a bunch of braggarts and gossips.
You never know what to believe with them.  Besides.  I wasn't born
yesterday!"
     Trish gave her young friend a wry smile.  "Sure, honey.  I
understand.  You've got a friend in me, Davie--I hope you know that.  So
feel free to let it all hang out!"

Chapter 5

     When Davie didn't appear in the dining room at lunch time, Peter
Knight was seized with a strange feeling of apprehension, although he told
himself it was probably unwarranted.  The sexy blonde stewardess was also
conspicuously absent, however, and a casual inquiry to Benny, his maitre
d', informed him that Miss Byers had requested a picnic lunch for two.  He
decided to go in search of Davie.  He just didn't feel right about his
guileless daughter spending too much time with the older "Friend," who was
not to be trusted, in his opinion.
     He walked down to the beach and shielded his eyes against the
invading rays of light, looking to infinity in hotly directions.  No sign
of Davie or the sensual blonde.  He went to the woman's bungalow and
knocked politely.  No answer.  He tried the door, found it unlocked and
went in.  The room had been made up and was noticeably void of occupants.
He left the bungalow and walked to the house.  Again, no one.  For some
reason, his concern was mounting.  He tried to tell himself that he was
being an over protective old fuddy duddy, but the tension in his stomach
grew.  Finally he climbed in the Porsche and headed along one of the
narrow dirt roads that paralleled the ribbon of white beach.  He stopped
periodically, idling the Porsche and walking through the low foliage on
the dunes to scan the shimmering sand.  Where the hell was Davie?
     He was just about to climb hack into the Porsche and head back in the
other direction when he caught sight of some movement in the bushes about
500 feet away.  A female stood up--God!  It was Trish Byers, naked as
September Morn!
     Instinctively, he squatted down and tried to hide himself until she
had resumed her supine position on the beach.  She hadn't seen him.
Christ!--that broad.  He was certain Davie must he with her . . . lying
under the sun with that scheming sexpot.  Was she naked as well?  He broke
out in a sweat, remembering Davie's candid admission of the night before:
"Slumber parties.  I didn't want to go when I found out what was going on-
-what was expected of me.  But they gave me a really hard time.  Called me
names and made fun of me.  So I . . .  I finally had to go along . . ."
     No!  Not my Davie!  Not my precious little girl!
     He turned off the ignition and left the Porsche in the middle of the
road.  Then he walked stealthily to the cluster of foliage behind the spot
where Trish Byers had gone to the bathroom.  It was a shallow depression
in the verdant dune.  A dark, wet island in the alabaster sand and a
crumpled wet tissue provided confirmation.  He avoided those and crept
silently to the elevated ledge of the dune.
     What he saw blew his mind completely and made his eyes pop and his
jaw drop and his cock swell to hardness inside his crisp, tailored slacks!
Davie was there, all right!  His beautiful daughter was lying on her back
on a bright striped beach towel and was totally naked!  Her long, slim
legs were spread apart and her arms were outstretched and her eyes were
closed.  Her incredibly beautiful young breasts stood upright from her
chest, the rosy little nipples like delicate raspberries.  He drank in the
beauty of his daughter's flat abdomen and smooth, supple young thighs,
marveling at the perfection of her body.
     Next to her knelt the stewardess, her woman's body another marvel of
enticing feminine pulchritude.  Goddamn!  She was the sexiest thing he had
ever seen, he had to admit.  Big jugs, perfect mounds of edible flesh
whose nipples were large and hard as pencil erasers.  Her hips were high
and angular, flaring just below her slim waist, and the dark blonde pubic
hair at the base of her smoothly rounded stomach glistened with reflected
light from the sun as it was trapped in the dewy drops of perspiration
that clung to the furry growth.
     There was a salacious smile on the blonde's sophisticated face as she
poured a dark oil into her hand and leaned over Davie.  No!  She wasn't
going to put it on h s daughter's tender, naked body!
     Oh, yes she was!  And she did--beginning with the child's lovely
young throat and working her way across Davie's shapely shoulders and down
her arms.  There was something too goddamned seductive about the way she
was doing it--much too seductive.  He wanted to shout at her, to get up
and show himself and tell her to get lost.  But he couldn't.  His eyes
were riveted to the scene that was enfolding below him.  And his cock was
rock hard; confronting them now was out of the question.
     He noticed an empty wine bottle next to a large straw hat.  Damn the
bitch--she's gotten Davie high!  He knew all too well how fast wine goes
to the head on a hot afternoon!
     Davie stretched her body languorously, a controlled reaction to he
disturbing sensations of pleasure that were coursing through her body.
Despite a feeling that she was getting into something she shouldn't allow
to happen, she couldn't help becoming excited by her older friend's tender
application of warm oil on her body.  She felt a little dizzy from the
wine, and from the relentless sun.  But it was so wonderful to lie here
and feel those gentle, knowledgeable hands on her flesh.  Trish was a
wonderful friend, and so understanding . . .  Talking to her was like
talking to a therapist; she made no judgments, raised no eyebrows . . .
not even when Davie confessed what had happened at those slumber parties.
Every kind of lovemaking is beautiful, Trish had said, though there's
nothing like a man.  But pleasure is pleasure, and why (deny your body any
of the wonderful experiences that are possible between two people . . .?
     Lying under the island sun, so far away from the dreary and
depressing life in New York City, Davie had to concede that what Trish
said was probably right.
     The lustful blonde's blue eyes widened as she placed her oil-laden
palm on Davie's blossoming breasts and began to caress the tender flesh in
slow, thoughtful circles.  Her lips curled into a self-satisfied smile as
the young nipples swelled to hardness under her ministrations.  She used
both her hands to massage the firm mounds of sensitive flesh, feeling her
own cunt secreting the liquid of her desire in increasing flow.  Trish was
almost trembling from pent-up arousal as she continued stroking and
massaging Davie's breasts gently, slowly . . . ever so gently and ever so
slowly.  She had promised herself that she would not touch the teenager--
today--but Davie's accounting of her lesbian "slumber parties" was more
than she could have hoped for.  This kid has had her cunt eaten before,
and she's licked a few pussies herself.  But she's never been sucked by a
pro like Trish Byers! she said to herself.  This is going to be easier
than I thought . . . God, oh God, this is going to be the sweetest little
cunt I've ever had!
     The voluptuous blonde eased her fingers off Davie's upthrust breasts
and poured more oil into her hands.  Then she resumed her caresses,
allowing her hands to slide down and across the smooth, flat belly and
over the sloping hips and down the sides of the excited girl's thighs and
calves, pressing her fingers between each of Davie's toes and massaging
her instep and arches.
     Shit!  Peter Knight swore silently, the hitch really knows her stuff.
She's going to turn Davie on for sure!  He agonized over the lascivious
sight, wanting to interrupt and spare his lovely daughter the shameful
experience of being seduced by the sex-mad stewardess.  But Davie would
die of embarrassment if she knew her loving father was spying on the two
of them.  That would really give her cause for shame!  She just might
decide she couldn't or didn't want to face him ever again, and he would
swallow sand before he took that risk.  It was horrifying, but he had no
choice other than to lie low and pray to God he could get out of there
without being discovered.  But as for the blonde pervert--he'd fix her
ass, all right!
     Trish's hands were moving slowly up the dark-haired teenager's bare
legs now and Davie's flesh shone with the generous coating of sun tan oil
the stewie had applied.
     "Doesn't it feel great, Davie?" she whispered to he naked teen.  Her
voice was ragged with sexual excitement.
     "Yes . . . oh, yessss," Davie answered quietly.  She squirmed on the
towel a bit, so that her thighs were even further apart.  I know a man's
hands would feel better, but, whatdya gonna do?" she said with feigned
lightness.  "There ain't nobody here but us chicks!"
     Davie managed a weak smile.
     The clever batch! Knight said to himself.  She's not only out to
seduce Davie, she wants to turn her onto men, too!  I'll cut her tits off!
Despite his anger and revulsion, he was becoming increasingly turned on
himself, and it was all he could do to keep his own hand away from his
aching cock.  He couldn't understand it--ever since Davie had arrived he
had found himself giving in to the animal in him, a lusting beast he had
had, of necessity, to keep in a cage.  Now the beast was roaring from its
cave, and louder all the time.  That Trish has got to be the hottest fuck
around, he was thinking as she bent over his daughter and let her skillful
hands roam wantonly on the young girl's flesh.  I'll cut her tits off . .
. but maybe I'll get a taste of them first!
     The blonde was poised over Knight's daughter now, her face
dangerously close to the sixteen year old's; her puffy, globular breasts
only inches from the upthrust schoolgirl's.  Wordlessly, she reached for
Davie's hand and placed it on one of her fleshy, hanging mounds.  Davie's
eyes flew open momentarily and she found herself looking up into the
smiling lips of the stewardess.  "Don't worry, honey," the blonde vamp
reassured her, "There's nothing wrong with it.  I just want to make you
feel good.  That's what friends are for . . ."
     She was unable to control herself any longer, so great was her desire
for the tender pussy of her young initiate.  Her own cunt was soaked with
the juices of her lust.  This was the moment she had so patiently waited
for!
     She leaned further towards tile young girl and touched her lips to
Davie's half-open mouth, letting her pointed pink tongue flick across the
warm softness.  Davie moaned softly, knowing she shouldn't accept the
other woman's mouth, but she was too filled with needs of her own to
protest.  The sun, the wine, the sexy photographs of the guy who looked
like Randy and the frank conversation with Trish had all conspired to
release her inhibitions and set her longing for experiences she had long
had secret fantasies about.  At that moment, she just wanted to cum . . .
to feel that feeling like no other sensation in the world.  And the
perverted aspect of he association with a woman who was eleven years older
than she stoked the fires of her confused desire.  She didn't care whether
it was wrong or not; she just wanted to keep feeling the wonderful
sensations that surged throughout her body.
     Her arm came up, encircling Trish's neck.  Peter Knight nearly
fainted.  The blonde's tongue began to work insanely inside Davie's mouth
as she let her hand slide down the aroused girl's body until it came to
rest on the down pubic mound.  She entwined her lacquered fingertips in
the soft, dark hair and began to tickle the flesh beneath it.  Davie's
thighs parted further, giving the blonde seductress tacit permission to
continue her manual exploration.  Which she did.
     She parted the soft, wet labia and pressed a long finger gently into
the sticky cuntal crevice, causing Davie's clitoris to throb so hard that
Trish could feel the little pulse, like the heartbeat of a frightened
bird, against her excited slit.  She pressed her full-blown breasts into
Davie's and ground them around and around, thrilling to the delicious
contact of breast on breast, and nipple against nipple.  She pushed her
finger into Davie's vagina, and the girl let out an involuntary gasp.
     But she wasn't going to spot things for Randy.  She had promised him
a cherry, and that's what he would get.  She wanted a taste of the pie!
     Trash left the girl's mouth and began to kiss the turgid, swollen
areolas of her sweetly tender breasts, evoking more gasps of excitement
from Davie.  Then she scooted away slightly and threw her leg over Davie's
hips so that she was straddling the breathless teen.  Their pussies came
in contact, and Trish began to rock back and forth, her own cunt a volcano
of desire.  She let out a few moans of her own, but she was bent on
sucking that luscious little slit and not even the fiery sensations
produced by pussy-to-pussy contact could stay her from her intended task.
She could wait no longer.
     Sliding backwards along Davie's thighs, she bent down over the girl's
oil-and-sweat slickened body and flicked her tongue into the small crater
of flesh that punctuated her abdomen.  The dark-haired beauty gasped.
     "What a lovely little navel you have, Davie!" Trish said between
pants.  "Tasty.  Very tasty."
     The young girl's hips began to undulate more freely on the towel.
Soooo nice . . .  Oh, how good it feels.  So what if it's wrong? . . . and
maybe it isn't alter all.  It just feels sooooo good.  I can't stop it . .
.  I need to cum so much . . . Davie was dazedly thinking.
     Peter Knight had some pretty dazed thoughts of his own.  Oh, Davie,
my dearest darling girl . . . what's happening to you?  Why are you
letting it happen, sweetheart?  It's wrong, what she's doing to you.  You
shouldn't let a woman do that to your beautiful little body--that's a man
's job . . .
     He was suddenly brought up short, realizing what he had just thought.
Good God, he was mentally advocating sexual relations between his beloved
daughter and a man!  He didn't mean that.  He couldn't mean that.  She was
too young.  It was too soon for her to know the pleasure a man could give
her.  Yet, she knew what pleasure a woman could bring.  Wasn't that worse?
Yes, that was perverted!  Did he really want Davie to continue her sexual
experimentation with the opposite sex, though?  Hell, no!  So what was she
supposed to do . . . nothing?  It was a little late for that.
     Peter Knight was racked with confusion and torment--much of it coming
from his gonads.  He couldn't deny that he was excited beyond belief by
the obscene spectacle between these two outstanding females, both with
incredible bodies.  But one of them was his own daughter.  If he had a
shred of decency, he would turn away from the sight . . . hell, he would
have gone out the way he came in; like a guerrilla scout in enemy
territory--very, very quietly, and very, very fast!  But he couldn't not
look.  He had to watch, though he had a case of lover's nuts that would
break the Guinness Book of Records!
     Trish's head hovered over the young girl's silky pubic mound and her
hot breath fanned the glistening curls that framed the rosy lips of the
teenage cunt.  Her hands followed, moving from Davie's breasts down her
belly and coming to rest on her marble flanks.  She used her thumbs to
gently part the trembling cunt lips, exposing Davie's clitoral button to
her wanton gaze.  "What a beautiful little pussy you have, honey.  Oh,
what a darling cunt!" Trish enthused, pausing for a moment to peer into
the delicate folds of tissue she hungered for.  It was sweet torment, this
delay.  But she was suddenly seized with unabridged desire and, without
further ceremony, buried her face into Davie's succulent cunt and began to
plant fervent kisses on the delicious flesh.  Her tongue was a hot poker
as she squirmed lower on the sand to position herself most effectively for
the sucking feast she had begun.
     Trish's tongue came in contact with the moist, hot clitoral bud and
she began to circle it tauntingly.  In a reflex movement, her breath
escaping from between her teeth and her body consumed with raging desire,
Davie reached for the stewie's head and entwined her fingers in the blonde
tresses of her wanton seductress.  Trish let her hands slide upward again
over the soft belly to Davie's firm breasts, cupping and squeezing them
greedily while she continued her oral assault on the young girl's nether
parts with her mouth and tongue.
     "If Daddy could see her now!" Trish mused inwardly as she relished
the taste of Davie Knight's young cunt.  She derived a spiteful
satisfaction from her prurient act, as well as a deeply pleasurable one.
Peter Knight was the one man she hadn't been able to fuck--as yet.  He had
to play hard-to-get, with his formal, untouchable demeanor, as though his
cock was too good for the average woman.  Most likely, it was!  But she
was no average woman!  And she intended to make damned sure he found that
out!  Before she got through with him, he'd be begging to tuck her pussy .
. .
     She took Davie's throbbing clit between her teeth and nipped it
gently while she ran her tongue around the heated little orb in concentric
circles.  Davie cried out and tightened her grip on the blonde's head as
she writhed and bucked on the beach towel from the waves of agonizing
pleasure being transmitted through her flesh.  Her head was flailing from
side to side in total abandonment to the obscene act of tongue-fucking
that was being perpetrated on her by the sexy, older woman.
     Trish opened her mouth still wider, moving her tongue downward along
the smooth furrow of the teen's slippery slit, wanting to devour Davie's
pussy; wanting to swallow it whole.  She began to tongue fuck her then,
reaching as far into the secret hole of Davie's maiden vagina as she
could, delighting in the whimpering mewls of pleasure she was evoking in
the willing girl.  If this was any indication of Davie's capacity for
turning on--and it certainly was--Randy would have smooth sailing right up
into her little channel!  Really--there would be plenty to go around for
both of them!
     Davie writhed and moaned from the incessant lickings and probings
into her moist, hot depths.  The passion was mounting in her steadily, and
she knew she was very close to orgasm, very close to cumming right on her
friend's mouth!  Maybe it was "dirty" . . . but it sure felt incredibly
good.
     She was straining and twisting on the towel and she couldn't keep
herself from verbalizing her desires.  "Ohh, ooooh, Trish, you're driving
me crazy.  It feels so good, so exciting when you lick me that way.  Suck
it . . . ohhhh suck iiiiittttt . . ."
     And the stewardess obliged, her tongue becoming a slimy piston as it
drove in and out of the teen's hot, clasping vagina.  Davie was more than
she had expected--much more!  She was so hot herself that she couldn't
keep her fingers out of her own cunt, and she substituted the thumb of one
hand for the thumb and forefinger of the other to keep Davie's cunt lips
apart while she reached down and made digital contact with her own fiery
pussy, stroking her clit very rapidly, the heat of impending orgasm
roaring like an inferno through her flesh as she desperately sought her
own release.
     It wouldn't be long now, for either of them.
     And Peter Knight knew that, as he continued to watch the entire
erotic display from his sheltered hiding place among the dense, bushy
growth.  His balls were close to bursting.  The pain was excruciating.
Never in his life had he seen anything to equal the excitement generated
by those two beautiful women on the beach.  Yes--two women.  For he knew
he couldn't pretend Davie was a little girl any longer.  She was very
young, yes.  But she had a woman's body and a woman's sexual responses.
How could he bear to have her live with him as his little girl when he was
witnessing her as a young and desirable--and desired--woman?  Daughter or
not, a female, particularly one like Davie, would drive him out of his
mind.  That was a thing he couldn't cope with.  The alternative to a
filial relationship with Davie was too unnatural to even consider for a
moment.  And yet, he a ready had considered it, in his fantasies.  Oh God,
why did she have to come to French Leave at all!  It might have been
better for both of them if she had simply stayed in New York . . .
     His pretty daughter's cries of animal pleasure were becoming louder
and louder as the young woman continued to swirl and flick her tongue
around the velvet depths of Davie's pulsating vagina.  Her firm buttocks
jerked and spasmed beneath the plunging tongue of the expert cunt sucker.
She was going to cum soon; the feeling was building and building . . .
     Trish, her own brain a bubbling cauldron of lust, flailed her finger
faster and faster against her throbbing clitoris as she feverishly plunged
her tongue in and out of her young friend's pussy.  Davie writhed and
squirmed beneath the insane licking and sucking until she thought she
would scream from sheer ecstasy.  Every muscle in her body was tensed, and
her long, sable-colored hair swept the towel as she flailed her head
wildly from side to side.  She ground her crotch up into the blonde's
lusting face as the waves of rapture began to rise, then gather, then
crest until . . .
     "Oooooh . . . oooooohhhh . . . I'm . . . c uuuuu mmmm iiiii nnnng!"
she shouted through the hoarse gasps of pleasure.  She broke out in
gooseflesh and rocked crazily on the beachtowel, her whole body a mass of
frayed electric cords that sent sizzling surges of ecstasy through her.
She drew the blonde head into her loins with all her might.  Her cunt
juices inundated the stewie's face and tongue, flowing down along the
crease of Davie's trembling buttocks and pooling beneath her rectum on the
towel.  Again and again she screamed out her delirium, and again and again
the invading tongue and lips brought her continued thrills.  A second
later, Trish was screaming out her own orgasm and undulating on the fine-
grained sand, creating a human foxhole with her voluptuous, climaxing
body.  Her oscillating finger sent wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure
through her body.
     Peter Knight breathed into his hand to stifle the sound of his own
heated breathing, though the two climaxing females on the beach below were
hardly alert to sounds other than each other's cries.  He felt heartsick
at what he had witnessed, but it was also the most unbearably exciting
spectacle he had ever witnessed.  He suddenly remembered how Francine had
liked for him to go down on her.  It was the one thing sexual she did
like, the bitch.  And it was the one thing Davie and her mother had in
common, he thought ruefully.  Then the devil voice spoke again in his
head: "Shrewd observation, Dr. Watson.  Now, what are you going to do
about it? . . ."
     He forced himself to lie perfectly quiet until the girls dashed to
the water for a swim.  Then he backed down the dune and headed for the
Porshe, his mind a blur and his balls a bloated bag of thwarted desire
that screamed for merciful release.

Chapter 6

     Peter Knight hurried into his beach house and locked the door behind
him.  He was sweating, and his temples throbbed.  The ache in his groin
reminded him constantly of his manhood.  The devils were dancing in his
head, playing cruel tricks on him, evoking wicked, disjointed thoughts in
his mind.  He had to rest, to sleep, to get back his equilibrium before
Davie came home . . .
     He ripped off his clothes and flung them onto a chair.  He fell into
bed, wincing as his hard, erect cock thudded on the mattress.  He had some
unfinished business down there . . . he couldn't stand the agony any
longer.
      | Grabbing his long, beefy pole in his hand, he once more stroked
his enraged organ hotly until he came all over the bedsheet.  It was only
a matter of seconds.  Exhausted then, he knew he should get up and wash,
but his body refused to budge, and he fell fast asleep without remembering
the need to cover himself.
     When Davie got home a couple of hours later, she was surprised to
find the door locked.  She figured she must have done it without realizing
it.  No problem.  She remembered the door to the lanai--that would be open
for sure.
     She wanted to shower and change and wash the salt water out of her
hair before she appeared at the lodge to see her father.  Perhaps she
wanted to wash the scent of sex and another female body away, too . . .
The hours she had spent with Trish were beginning to bother her.  She
wasn't dazed with wine any more, and the reality of what she had
participated in with the blonde stewardess was beginning to weigh heavily
on her conscience.  Oh God, what's happening to me?  I'm not a lesbian . .
.  I don't want to do it with girls!  I couldn't help myself, it felt so
good.  But it's wrong.  It's not the way I want things to be.
     She opened the lanai door and stepped inside, a worried expression on
her young face.  She could feel the first tautness that follows
overexposure to the sun, and she knew she had lain on the beach too long
for the first day.  Yes . . . she had lain too long on the beach for a lot
of reasons . . .
     She turned toward the small chest of drawers that held her clothing.
An unexpected groan caused her to look in the direction of her father's
bedroom.  From where she was standing, she could see only his head and his
bare torso.  He was sleeping heavily, his mouth open and emitting soft but
coarse sounds that bordered on snoring.  Davie smiled as she watched her
father reposing on the big bed.  She looked over at him with pride,
thinking how peaceful he seemed, how handsome he was.  His chest was broad
and hairy; his muscles were well developed.  He was a very masculine man.
     She thought she could get her things and tiptoe quietly past him
without awakening him, so she gathered her shampoo and creme rinse and
took another long dress out of the drawer and stepped through the doorway
into his bedroom.
     An involuntary gasp escaped the young girl's throat as she found
herself looking at her father's totally nude, sleeping form.  There he
was, sprawled on his back, his muscular legs spread apart, exposing the
full sight of his genitals to his daughter's widening eyes.  His flaccid
penis was cradled in the hairy hammock of his enormous testicles.  Daddy's
penis was huge!  Davie was hypnotized by the sight of her father's massive
prick and his plump, hirsute testicles.
     It 's so big!  How could any woman possibly have a thing that big
inside of her?  It would tear her to pieces!  It must be over ten inches
long when it's . . . when it's hard it's twice the size of those models'
in VIVA magazine!  And theirs were pretty big . . .
     Davie felt a sudden dryness in her mouth and throat as she stared at
the naked, powerful body on the bed.  She knew she couldn't continue to
stand there gaping at him.  And she didn't dare take a shower for fear of
waking him up.  He'd know she had seen him.  So she carefully tiptoed back
to the lanai, replaced the clothing in the drawer and went out the door.
She hurried to the lodge and used the phone to call him up.
     "Y-yes . . ." a groggy voice answered.
     "Hi, Daddy," she said brightly, "it's your sun-baked daughter.  I
think I'm about medium rare."
     "Davie!  Where are you, sweetheart?" he asked, sitting up.  He was
suddenly springing to alertness.
     "Sheboygan, Wisconsin.  Really, Daddy," she teased, "where do you
think I am?  I'm at the reception desk."
     He had difficulty marshaling his reason.  All he could think of was
Davie being eaten by that vixen, Trish.  "Well, eh, what are you doing
there, darling?  I thought you were . . . on the beach."
     "I was.  Now I'm here.  I came to look for you because the door's
locked, so I figured you were at the lodge.  Daddy, are you all right?  I
mean, this conversation is ridiculous!"  She said it with mock reproach,
then followed it with one of her girlish giggles.
     "You're right, darling.  It is.  l didn't realize how heavily I
slept.  Still trying to clear the cobwebs out of the attic.  Why don't you
come along to the house?"
     "Thanks, Daddy.  I'm dying to take a shower.  Bye."  And she hung up,
leaving Peter Knight with a dial tone and a glazed expression on his face.
     Moments later he was covering the telltale stain on the sheet with
another sheet, then dashing to the door to unlock it, then scampering into
the shower for a necessary cleansing.  By the time Davie reached the
house, he was out of the shower and half-dressed.
     Davie was suspiciously cheerful, it seemed to him.  Of course, he
knew what had happened between her and Trish Byers and he suspected--and
hoped--that his winsome offspring was feeling guilty about the whole
perverted episode.  He was bothered as hell himself, and couldn't look her
squarely in the face, but he also couldn't take his eyes off her nubile
bikini-clad body.
     She acted awkward and embarrassed, and he thought wistfully to
himself what a sad thing is the loss of innocence.  He blamed himself once
more for what happened on the beach.  He should have been there, to save
Davie from the sexual clutches of that rapacious female!  Why was he never
there when she needed him?  If he had stayed with her in New York, none of
this would have happened.  But then, he didn't.  All he cold do now was
make damned sure nothing like that ever happened to her again .
     When she had showered and dressed in a most becoming long dress,
Davie joined her father in the living room.  He was having a drink, and
offered her a coke on the rocks, which she smilingly accepted.
     "Tell me about your day," he began.  "Did you enjoy the beach?"
     "Very much.  It's so beautiful.  I've never seen such white sand.
And the water is glorious.  You can see all kinds of fish as plain as
anything.  Like looking through a tinted window.  I saw this one mean
looking fish with a lot of teeth.  Trish said she thought it might be a
barracuda, so we got out of the water fast!"
     "Trish?  You went swimming with her, eh?" he asked, eyeing his
daughter carefully for giveaway expressions.  But Davie was artfully cool.
That disturbed him, too.
     "Oh yes.  She came by this morning with a super lunch for the two of
us--you have the best food here, Daddy.  We walked way down the beach,
found a spot and just roasted ourselves all day.  Of course, Trish could
take it.  She does it all the time--sunbathing, you know.  That's why she
has such a beautiful color.  Look at me, I look like a half cooked
lobster!"  She giggled at herself again, and Peter Knight returned the
grin.  But inwardly he was agonizing.  He couldn't blot the image of his
naked daughter on her back with her pussy in the blonde's face from his
mind.  He couldn't shut out her cries as she lay there cumming, brought to
the peak of pleasure by that sex-starved woman who had acted as Davie's .
. . lover!  Trish was a dangerous influence on the impressionable Davie.
If she spent too much time alone with Trish, she might become as venal as
the stewardess.  The bitch would have Davie in a gang bang with all the
guests at French Leave looking on.  Christ, what a thought!  No, Davie was
still pure, she was still innocent.  She didn't know what the hell she was
doing today, or at school.  They forced it on her.  Davie needed a man to
straighten her out.  Her soft, young body, her lips, her ripe breasts and
her beautiful pussy cried for a man's caresses . . . a man's body to
complement hers . . . a man's cock to fill her precious little cunt . . .
     My God, what I am thinking!, it suddenly occurred to him.  I'm
thinking of Davie as though I were her lover!  As though she needed that!
She only belongs to me spiritually . . . that's the only way I can have
her.  That 's the only way that's right between a father and daughter.
Any other way is sick, degenerate . . . as degenerate as what Trish did to
her today.
     "Daddy, is anything wrong?" Davie suddenly asked him.  He had been
lost in thought for several moments.  He found himself staring vacantly
into his scotch glass.  When he looked up at Davie, her eyes expressed
concern.
     "Sorry, honey I'm still half asleep, I guess."  He smiled at her
reassuringly.  "Let's go have dinner at the lodge.  I really should be on
hand most of the time."
     A yachting party arrived during the dinner hour and Peter Knight had
to leave his daughter alone for several minutes, during which time Trish
Byers and her brother appeared in the dining room and got in line for the
sumptuous buffet spread.  By the time the resort owner returned, Trish and
Randy had joined their table, a thing which did not please Peter Knight in
the least.
     "Good evening, Miss Byers, Randy," he said politely, offering a curt
smile.
     "I'd be so pleased if you called me Trish," the seductive blonde told
him, giving him a flashing smile.  She looked stunning in a low-cut white
cotton dress that did little to hide her feminine assets.  Her feet were
shod in the barest of high-heeled sandals, making her long beautiful legs
seem even longer.  Her tan was deep and golden against the electric
whiteness of her dress.  She oozed sensuality from every pore.  He was
seething inside and he wanted to slap her half way across tile dining
room.  He hated everything about her, except her face and her voice and
her body . . .  He was caught in a repulsion-attraction syndrome--his
reason repelled, but his being drawn to her like a magnet.
     Davie's thigh accidentally brushed against Randy's and she moved hers
away hastily, but not before the contact had produced a tiny electrical
charge in her loins.  She couldn't help thinking of the pictures in VIVA,
and now that he was seated next to her at the dining table, she found
herself comparing him more and more to the guy in the photograph.  She
speculated on the size of his penis, and wondered if it resembled the
man's in the magazine or that of her father.  What would Randy be like?
What would it feel like to have his thing inside me?  He's very sexy, just
like his sister, with those bedroom blue eyes and all that soft blond
hair.  He does have a fantastic build . . .
     The young girl felt her face flush.  It was already hot from the
hours of harsh sun.  She couldn't look at Randy directly; there was
something about him that both frightened and intrigued her.  He didn't
talk much, and seemed very shy himself.  But she couldn't suppress a
little shudder when she thought again of his resemblance to the man in the
photographs.
     They lingered over dinner, with Knight having to excuse himself at
intervals to attend to one kind of business or another.  During his
absences, Trish focused her attention on Davie, giving her enigmatic looks
across the table.  At Other moments, she did the same thing to her
brother.  Davie felt there was something peculiar in their relationship.
Sometimes she seemed to be flirting with him!  Once or twice, Randy looked
down at Davie from under his sleepy eyelids and she found herself melting
inside.  And the liquid warmth manifested itself in her panties!  When
Randy asked her if she'd like to go for a walk after dinner, she readily
agreed.  Peter Knight had other ideas.
     "I think it's getting close to your bedtime, young lady," he said, in
a very paternal way.  To his surprise, Davie was angered.
     "Really, Daddy!  I'm not a child.  Besides, it's not that late.  I'm
not a baby!" she said, her voice tight and her eyes sparkling with
indignation.
     "She's right, Peter," Trish added without solicitation.  He gave her
a chilling look.  "I'll make that decision, if it's all right with you,"
he said to her levelly.  "Randy, why don't you escort Davie to the house.
I'll be along shortly."
     "Sure.  My pleasure, Mr. Knight," Randy said, rising to his feet.
Davie got up, too, and left the table without another word to her father.
She was embarrassed to tears, as only a sixteen year old girl can be.
     Her anger, fanned by guilt and the confusion that resulted from her
turmoil and frustration brought sudden and unexpected tears to her eyes as
the two youngsters walked out into the refreshing night air.  "Why did he
have to say that?  He was talking to me like I was some kind of two year
old moron.  He sounded just like my mother!" she protested hotly.
     Randy put a comforting arm around her shoulder.  "Don't take it so
hard, Davie.  Your old man's just looking out for your interest, that's
all.  He doesn't want his little girl out with a big, bad wolf like Randy
Ferns!"  (And with good reason, he added silently.)
     She had to smile.  She looked up at him and he gave her an endearing
grin.  She thought he had the sexiest eyes she had ever seen.
     They walked slowly on, and she began to feel more relaxed in his
company.  He really was a nice boy.  He was as understanding as Trish . .
.
     They laughed a lot.  He wasn't nearly as shy as she thought he was.
Maybe he was only shy in a crowd.  At one point he casually took her hand
and she felt another surge of excitement go through her.  Every now and
then, their bodies would brush against one another.  The air was cool and
fragrant.  Crickets chirruped and the sea gently slapped the shore.  Davie
felt warm and contented to be with this understanding, masculine boy . . .
     In another part of the compound, Peter Knight was declining an
invitation to 'come in for a nightcap.'  "Thank you, Trish, but I'd better
get home."
     "Why so soon?  Afraid the boogie man is going to get your darling
daughter?" she taunted.
     "Look," he said through clenched teeth, "my daughter is none of your
goddamned business!  And as far as that goes, I'd be ever so grateful if
you left her the hell alone!  A girl like Davie doesn't need a woman like
you as a friend!"  He hadn't intended to loose his cool--Trish Byers was a
guest, though she wouldn't be a guest ever again!  Still, he prided
himself on self-control; on maintaining an unruffled, professional posture
with both guests and help alike.  He didn't want to show his hand; the
bitch just might tell Davie that her father had seen them making love!
     Trish felt her own anger bob.  "How would you know?" she railed back
at him.  "You haven't even seen her for three years!  It just so happens,
Mr. Big, that Davie does need my friendship.  Who else is she going to
talk woman to woman --YOU?  Yes, I suppose she could . . ."
     That hit home.  She had slashed at his manhood, and any residual
control that he had fled with the wafting island breeze.  He reached past
her, opened the door and thrust her roughly inside.  The light from the
moon illuminated the room enough so that he could see her striking
features clearly.  He looked at her bright, sensuous mouth, remembering
vividly that it was the mouth that kissed Davie, that licked and sucked
her tender breasts, that ate her teenage pussy . . .
     He grabbed both her arms and held her in a viselike grip.  He looked
at her long and hard.  Her face was close to his as he breathed the words
out through his rigid jaw.
     "You know what you are?  You're a vile, low-class scheming bitch!
Worse than that--you're a cunt a real cunt!"  (God, how he wanted to fuck
her.  He wanted to tear her apart with his cock.  He never wanted to fuck
a woman more in his life than he wanted to fuck this big-titted, sexy
blonde bitch!)
     "Flattery will get you nowhere!" she snarled back at him, her lips
curled in a defiant pout.
     "I don't want to get anywhere, cunt!" he growled back through
clenched teeth.  "I wouldn't fuck you with a ten foot pole!"
     "Braggart!  You'd touch me with any kind of a pole--if you had one.
But obviously, you don't . . ."  She had him now, and she knew it.  Peter
Knight smarted visibly from the gauntlet she had flung so cruelly across
his face.  If that assault on his masculinity didn't get him to drop his
pants, nothing would.  She looked up at him with disdain in her big, blue
eyes.  She smiled a mocking little smile with dewy, half-parted lips.
     He could feel her hot breath on his flushed cheek, scalding him like
oil from a boiling cauldron.  Her bare knee touched his trousered leg,
searing his flesh through the sharkskin.  Oh Geezus, he had to fuck her!
He didn't care about Davie being home alone; he didn't care whether the
blonde bitch was a guest, or that he hated her guts; he didn't care about
anything!  He only knew that the cum in his balls was being boiled to a
broth.  He had to put the meat to this pagan, she-devil cant standing so
tauntingly before him, had to teach her a lesson she would never forget .
. . with a fucking she would never forget!  When he got through with her,
she would crawl back to Nassau!
     He was dimly, very dimly aware that later, when it was all over,
there would be remorse and self-loathing.  But at that moment, nothing
else mattered except funding the shit out of the so ft.  warm, musky-
smelling evil woman who was only inches away from his throbbing, granite-
hard ten inch cock . . .
     Without another word, he pulled her to his body and kissed her
brutally on the mouth, pressing his teeth into her yielding lips and
forcing his tongue into her oral cavity.  He tongued her mouth, and she
answered with hot caresses from her oral member.  Suddenly, he bit it--
hard, causing her to cry out in a gagged scream of pain.  He relished her
agony.  Then he bit her lip, drawing a warm, salty trickle of blood from
the petal-soft flesh.  Trish began to fight him, pummeling him with her
fists to try and push him away.  But he was a pillar of stone, and she,
with her 120 pounds of female flesh, was hardly a match for the enraged
resort owner.
     Peter reached behind her and unzipped the pristine white dress with
one deft yank of the zipper, drawing her in tightly to his loins as he
did, forcing his truncheon-like cock against her pubic bone as hard as he
could; grinding it into her in a way he knew was bruising.  Trish
struggled against him, a look of fear and pain contorting her lovely
features.  She saw the look of a madman, the frenzy of the rapist in his
blazing hazel eyes.  Still, it excited her.  She had wanted this man for
so long; she never figured him to show the balls he was showing.  Of
course, she had goaded him into it; but she had expected to call the
shots.  He was definitely out of her control.  What was he going to do?
     "You bitch . . . you cunt . . . you frigging whore . . ." he kept
muttering over and over under his breath, as he reached up under her dress
and grabbed the sheer nylon panties she wore and ripped them down over her
satin hips, leaving them around her thighs like a ragged tourniquet.  She
gasped under his harsh stripping as his clawing hands left angry red
tracks in her sun bronzed flesh.  Then he shoved his middle finger into
her hotly steaming vagina, and she bucked from the suddenness of his harsh
and abrupt entry, even though her pussy was a cauldron of desire, and the
juices of lust lubricated her cuntal passage.
     She started to groan as he finger fucked her deeply and she swayed on
her feet, her eyes closed.  Seeing her reaction, he abruptly withdrew his
hand and wiped his finger across her supple mouth, saying, "Here, slut,
eat this!  You like the taste of pussy, I'll bet; take it.  Lick it!"  He
worked his finger into her mouth as though it were a cock, and slid it
back and forth between her lips and around the inside of her cheeks.  His
other hand was up under her dress, pinching her ripely curved ass-cheeks
as hard as he could.
     Trish wanted to bite his finger, but she was afraid of what he would
do.  This man was capable of anything now, she realized.  God knows what
he might do to her if she retaliated.  Besides, she liked the taste of her
pussy; it was a taste similar to the sweet, aromatic pussy of Peter's
teenage daughter.  Hah!  If only the bastard knew!
     Yesss . . . that was it!  What better way to get even with the stuck
up son-of-a-bitch than to arrange for a little private "exhibition" . . .
with the star performer being his darling little girl!
     He suddenly brought both his hands up to her shoulders and pulled the
white dress down until it fastened like a straight jacket around her body,
just below her melon-like breasts, pinioning her arms to her sides.  The
stewardess was unable to slip the dress either up or down, and stood
there, her face a mask of impotent rage.
     "Get me out of this goddamn thing, you bastard!" she shouted out at
him.  She drew up her foot and kicked him sharply on the shin.  She
followed it with a knee to the groin.
     Her aim wasn't true; he hardly felt it.  But a devilish sneer
appeared on his lips.  "Oh . . . so you like to play rough, eh?  Ok,
hitch.  We'll play rough!"
     He picked her up and slung her under his arm as though she were a
store mannequin.  She was screaming and kicking her legs.  He literally
threw her on the big bed, on her back, and tore the sandals off of her.
Trish was still straight-jacketed by the crumpled, constricting dress,
which had worked its way up to her hips, exposing her dark blonde mat of
pussy hair to his wanton, rapacious gaze.  While she lay there kicking and
screaming, he ripped off her panties, then hastily removed his jacket,
shirt and trousers.  He slipped off his loafers and socks and peeled down
his shorts.
     Her eyes widened as she gazed at his naked, ten-inch rod of man-
flesh, the blood-engorged head purple with rage.  His huge, hairy
testicles hung tautly between his sinewy thighs.  He was a tower of
virility before the wide-eyed stewardess, who thought she had seen
everything there was to see in the bedroom--until now!  He looked so
powerful, so cruel and menacing as he loomed above her, his handsome face
grimacing with vindictive lust.
     "Like what you see, cunt?" he asked, reaching for his massive pole
and grasping it gingerly in his hand as if it were a baby club.
     "Oh my God, Peter . . .  Oh my God!" was all she could say.
     "This is what you wanted, isn't it?  Isn't this what you've been
after all along . . . every time you gave me one of your come-up-and-see-
me-sometime looks?  Every time you wiggled your hot little ass at me, or
stuck those big round jugs under my nose?  You wanted me to fuck you,
didn't you, slut?  You wanted me to stick my cock up between those good-
looking legs of yours and fuck your hot little whore pussy, didn't you?  .
. .
     "I . . . I . . . yes . . . YESSSSSS!" she cried out at him.
     "Yes, what?" he taunted, a victorious sneer on his face.  "What did
you want me to do?  See, I have to be sure you really want me, because I'm
very insecure, and I might not be able to get a hard-on until you reassure
me . . ." he said, sporting an erection that would do credit to a prize
bull!
     "I . . . I want you . . . to . . . fuck me," she breathed.
     "How's that?  I also have a hearing problem.  You'll have to say it
louder."
     "I want you to fuck me.  FUCK ME, goddamnit!" she screamed, the veins
in her temples and the cords in her neck distending as she raised her head
off the bed to shout at him.  "FUCK ME . . . FUCK ME . . . NOW!"

Chapter 7

     "Do you think your dad will let me show you around the island
tomorrow?" the good-looking blond youth was saying to the pretty brunette
as they sat on the steps of her father's house.
     "He'd better!" Davie answered.  "I know I can talk him into it.  I
don't know what was the matter with him tonight.  He was acting funny all
evening," said the innocent teen.  Randy's thigh was pressed lightly but
deliberately against her thigh.  She was talking with great animation, the
excitement and anticipation in her fluttering tummy channeled into her
voice.  She knew what both of them were thinking as they sat there side by
side in the seducing shadows.
     "I'll come by around eleven tomorrow morning.  OK?  Bring your
bathing suit and a big jug of sun tan lotion!"
     They both laughed then, and he put his arm around her shoulder in a
friendly way.  But when she turned to him, they both stopped smiling, and
he looked deeply into her sparkling hazel eyes.  Davie's heart was
pounding wildly in her chest.  He gave her a slow, irresistible smile.
Then he leaned towards her and kissed her on the lips.  It was a harmless,
non-committal kiss--at first!  But they lingered at each other's mouth's,
and soon the kiss deepened, and Davie felt the boy's warm, probing tongue
snaking in between her lips.  She thought it was the most exciting thing
that had ever happened to her; so much more exciting than being kissed by
another female.  There just was no comparison.  She had never been kissed
by a boy who kissed the way Randy Ferris did.  No boy had ever made her
feel that way!
     Her young pussy began to tingle, and she could feel the wetness as
her cunt juices began to flow and puddle in her panties.  Her heart beat
wildly, and she found it hard to get enough air in her lungs.  She was
suddenly afraid . . . afraid of the sensations in her body.  All she could
think of was the pictures in the magazine . . . the naked man who had
Randy's face and body, and what he was doing to the naked, dark-haired
girl . . .
     Far fucking out! Randy thought as he kissed the luscious teen.  This
kid's already getting worked up!  What a sweet, sexy little piece of ass
she's going to be!  Hell, she doesn't even know how sexy she is.  If
Knight wasn't on his way back here, I'd put the make on her and fuck her
little ass off right now!  But, easy, kid, easy does it.  Trish said
"hands off!" until tomorrow . . . and she's got it timed down to a rat's
eyelash.  Got to win the kid's trust first.  Got to make her think I'm a
harmless simple kind of dude who only wants to show her a good time . . .
yeah, I'll show her a good time!  Right in her virgin little pussy!  A
real fucking good time!
     Without explanation, Randy drew back suddenly.  Davie's lips were
still parted.  He looked into her eyes, giving her a serious, thoughtful
and penetrating stare from under his sleepy eyelids.  She suppressed an
involuntary shudder.
     "I'm sorry, Davie.  I didn't mean to kiss you like that.  Just lost
my head, I guess.  You're the kind of woman that really turns a guy on . .
."
     He got up stiffly then, pretending to turn away in order to hide the
embarrassing bulge in his tight pants.  But Davie's eyes went
instinctively to his groin, and her face grew hotter when she spied the
noticeable knot under his fly.  It seemed that there was a wild thing
inside, straining to break free.  She wanted it to . . .
     "See you tomorrow," he said, waving his hand to her as he sauntered
off.
     "Right," she answered feebly.  "G'night, Randy . . ."
     The sexy blond boy grinned in the moonlight as he walked down the
road towards his sister's bungalow.  Wait 'till Trish gets a load of
this!, he thought smugly to himself.  That Knight chick is as good as
laid!
     Once out of Davie's sight, he picked up his pace and strode briskly
on, anticipating the night in bed with his gorgeous sexpot sister,
confident that she would be alone when he returned to the bungalow.  He
kept expecting to meet the stiff proprietor on the path.
     He was totally unprepared for the sounds that drifted out the open
window from the sequestered one-room house--sounds which prompted him to
tiptoe quietly for the last six feet and peer cautiously inside, after
first looking around to check for possible "spies."
     "Geezus Christ!" was the expletive that escaped involuntarily from
under his breath.  There was Trish, her dress a wrinkled rag around her
arms and torso, tying spread-eagled on the bed, with the very naked, very
hard Peter Knight standing above her, holding his elephant cock in his
hand!  Goddamn . . . he's got a schwanz that must be a good ten-inches
long! Randy thought.
     "I want you to fuck me.  FUCK ME, goddamnit!" Trish screamed at him.
"FUCK ME . . . FUCK ME . . . NOW!"
     Randy's mind was whirling.  He was bowled over.  The timing was all
wrong.  This wasn't supposed to happen unto tomorrow--that's what Trish
had told him.  But neither was her eating of Davie Knight's pussy--and
look what happened!  It was all like a scene out of "Future Shock" . . .
     He suddenly saw an opportunity to accelerate his own cherry-popping
plans.  Quickly, he turned and tiptoed away from the window and hurried
back to the Knight cottage . . .
     Davie had watched Randy until he disappeared around a clump of tall
bushes, his words echoing over and over in her young head: "You're the
kind of woman that really turns a guy on . . ."
     He called me a woman . . . a woman!, she thought giddily to herself.
There could be no greater compliment for a breathless sixteen year old.
She added silently: And you're the kind of man that turns me on, Randy
Ferris!
     The disturbing wetness in her panties increased, and she found
herself squeezing her thighs together to heighten the tingling sensations
of pleasure that were coursing through her pussy.  A lurid fantasy of
Trish slavishly licking her cunt to orgasm pervaded her mind then, only to
be supplanted by a three dimensional enactment of the poses an the VIVA
photographs.  She was hot!  She had to do something!  She only wished so
badly that Randy were there at that moment.  She didn't care if he lost
respect for her, or what she felt afterwards.  She only knew that her body
demanded satisfaction.  She needed to cum!
     Davie rushed into the house, her cheeks flaming and her whole sun-
baked body on fire with lust.  She went straight to the lanai, puked off
her clothes and threw them on top of the big pillows on the floor and
scrambled into bed without putting on her pajamas.  She crawled under the
sheet, perspiring heavily and trembling with desire.
     The tingling sensation had magnified tenfold now and her breathing
became ragged and labored.  Her fantasies became more vivid, bolder, and
the passion increased accordingly in her breasts and belly.  Her body
ached for caresses: hands, lips, cocks!  She reached under the sheet with
a feverish hand and grasped one of her button-like nipples, crushing it
between her fingers.  A low moan escaped her parted lips, and the ache in
her virginal cunt increased.
     Slowly, then, she began to massage her breasts; first one, then the
other, cupping the naked, sun-kissed mounds tenderly, then stroking each
nipple in turn.  Whirlpools of passion seethed within her young body.  Her
left hand remained at her taut, firm breasts stroking and caressing  them,
while her right traveled slowly downward, over the smooth, flat expanse of
her heaving belly, then lower still, to the glistening curls of her pubic
mound.  Her legs were spread wide apart, and with trembling fingers, she
spread her pussy lips, exposing the throbbing clitoral bud which stood
erect as a miniature phallus.  She thought of Trish, and the way the
blonde woman had spread the quivering lips of her pussy that afternoon
before she put her mouth and tongue right on Davie's sex mound.  At this
moment, she would have welcomed her friend again.  But she really wanted
it to be Randy's mouth . . . his lips, his tongue.  What would they be
like?  What would it feel like to have his big, hard penis inside her
vagina?  Or her father's . . .
     God, no!  How could she have such a fantasy . . . even at the peak of
her arousal?  What kind of perverted monster was she, anyway, to entertain
thoughts of her father's penis inside her?  Wicked, shameful, that's what
it was!
     Her mouth was open wide now, and she panted like a puppy as she slid
her middle finger along the fleece-lined furrow of her cunt, rubbing the
distended little button of lusting tissue as she moved down to the warm
wetness of her steaming furrow.  The feeling generated by her finger on
her burning clit elicited a gasp of rapture from the young beauty's throat
as she rubbed and massaged the dewy nest with increased ardor.
     She could feel the climax building, building within her; filling her
body with excruciating delight.  Her left hand continued to squeeze her
breast, and she raised her head to her chest, sticking out her tongue as
far as it would go, to lick at the inflamed nipple.  She was on fire as
she had never been on fire before, chanting under her breath as she rubbed
the sensitive slit up and down, faster and faster and harder and harder.
Randy . . . make me cum, Randy . . . make me cum . . .  You're going to
make me cum, Randy . . .  You're going to make me . . . CUUUUUMMMMM!
     "Aaaaaaggghhh!  Aaaarrrgghh!" she cried out in a harsh, gasping
whisper as her body shook with orgasmic release.  Over and over she
spasmed, and she kept rubbing her finger across her sensitized clit to
intensify the bursting rockets of release within her, all the time
massaging her pliant, longing breasts.  Her climax seemed to last for a
rapturous eternity before the delicious sensations began to ebb.  Then
finally it was over, and she took her hand from her young pussy and wiped
her finger on the sheet.  She lay flat on her back, her eyes closed, her
body weak and drained and tingling with the afterglow of rapture.
     An unexpected knock on the door sent a stab of terror through her and
caused her limpid eyes to fly open.  She sucked in her breath.  Someone
was outside.
     "Davie!  Davie, are you awake?  I have to talk to you!" the voice
called to her.  It was Randy!  Why???  Why had he come back?  Her father
would be here any minute, and he would be blazing mad if he found Randy
still here!
     Her mind a blur, she threw back the sheet and sprang to her feet, her
balance unsteady from the rocking orgasm.  She looked for a robe or
something to put on.  Then she spotted her dress.  She climbed into it
hastily and zipped it up, without bothering to put on shoes or panties.
She fluffed her silky, sable-colored hair with her fingers as she hurried
to the door.
     Randy stood there out of breath, a strange expression on his face.
"I'm sorry to bother you again Davie," he said, "but I . . .  I didn't
know what else to do.  Could I . . . would it be all right if I came in
for a few minutes?"
     "I don't understand, Randy.  What's the matter?  I mean, it's OK with
me if you come in, but my daddy's going to be here any minute, and that
could spoil things for tomorrow if he finds you're still here."  Something
in his expression alarmed her.  She felt an unexplainable knot of dread.
She also felt terribly embarrassed, having just finished masturbating her
way to orgasm with his name on her lips.  She was afraid he might be able
to read her thoughts.
     Randy sighed heavily, then he gave her a quiet grin before he resumed
his concerned, serious mien.
     "I don't think your daddy's going to be here for a while.  In fact,
he won't be here for a long, long time."
     "Why?  What's happened to him?" Davie asked urgently, her large hazel
eyes growing wide with fear.
     "My sister's happened to him, that's what.  They're together . . . at
her place."
     "So?  You mean they're having a drink together or something?"
     "Or something.  You know what I mean, Davie.  Your dad and my sister
they're . . . making love."  He wanted to say, They're fucking!  But he
didn't dare--yet.
     Davie Knight was crestfallen.  But another part of her was excited by
the image of her strong, virile father with his penis inside Trish Byers.
She would give anything to see that and yet, she was afraid to.  Somehow
her father was holy he was a god.  Gods just didn't do things like
ordinary people do.  Or did they? . . .
     "You're putting me on, Randy.  How would you know that?  I'm sure
they're not going to invite you in to watch!" she said indignantly.  If it
were true, she resented Randy's intrusion on the intimate scene.
     "Oh yeah?  Well it just so happens that I was going over to Trish's
to tell her goodnight, and I heard all this noise coming from her room.
There weren't any lights on, so I went over to the window and looked in.
I'm not about to tell you what I saw, Davie.  You're a little too innocent
to hear those things . . ."
     "You said I was a woman!" she blurted out.  "Besides I still don't
believe you.  You're playing a mean trick on me, I bet!"
     "Trick, huh?" he said, eyeing her smugly.  "Give me your hand."
     "My hand?  What?" she asked uncomprehendingly.
     "Come on, baby.  You asked for it.  But don't say I didn't warn you!"
And he took her by the hand and led her quickly to his sister's bungalow,
where . . .
     Peter Knight's mouth was fastened on one of the blonde woman's
pneumatic breasts, and he was rolling it around and around on her chest
with the broad, wet blade of his tongue!  The stewardess was squirming on
the bed, her legs churning against the naked man who lay half atop her.
Their bodies glistened in the moonlight, which was bright as a light bulb
in the room.  Trish had something around her arms and under her breasts,
like a bandage.  It was her white dress--a crumpled swatch of fabric not
more than five-inches wide!  She was bound with her own dress!
     Davie's knees buckled slightly and she sagged against her blond
companion, her eyes like saucer-like and her mouth agape.  She was about
to let out a cry of protest when Randy's warm hand came from behind and
muffled the imminent shriek before it was voiced.
     "Oooooh . . . yesssss!  Oh God, lover!  Fuck me now!" Trish cried
aloud.  Then, "Ooooowwwwwww!  Aaaahhh!  Don't hurt me like that!"  Peter
Knight's teeth flashed in the moonlight as he bit into the tender,
succulent flesh.  Trish's face was contorted with pain.  Davie couldn't
understand why her daddy would be so mean to Trish.  Is that the way
people make love?  Did Trish really like it like that?  She sure didn't
seem to, judging from the look on her face!  Oh, it was all so sickening,
so gross.  She felt nauseous, but she couldn't take her eyes off the pair
on the bed.
     "Yes, baby.  I'm going to fuck you all right.  I'm going to fuck you
like you've never been fucked before.  You wanted it--now see how you like
this!" Davie's daddy said, as he drew back from the stewardess and rose to
his knees.  It was then that Davie saw his penis fully erect . . . it was
huge!  It was even bigger than she expected it to be!  Was he really going
to be able to get that thing inside Trish's vagina?
     Noooo.  Not in her vagina.  The enraged resort owner had no intention
of shoving his cock inside the captive bitch's vagina--he was going to ram
it into her asshole!
     He climbed between her legs and kneeled upright, poised before his
conquest.  He'd show the bitch--she'd think twice before she ever begged
somebody to fuck her again!
     There was breathless anticipation on the blonde wanton's face--at
last she was to feel Peter Knight's huge cock in her scalding pussy.  She
gave him a provocative smile and stretched her legs further apart and
arched her back in open invitation to the virile man.  Outside the window,
Randy had a huge erection of his own from watching the lascivious,
exciting scene on the bed.  He drew young Davie slightly closer to him, so
that the tip of his protruding cock was just touching her firm, ripe ass
cheek.  He wanted to hoist up her dress and plug her right then!  She
shifted her weight slightly, so that she was somehow just a little bit
closer . . .  He had one hand over her mouth and the other around her tiny
waist.
     The handsome, well-muscled man on the bed reached under the writhing
stewardess with both hands and pulled her body close to him.  He was
kneeling on his haunches now, his muscular thighs forming a vee on the
bed.  He raised her ass high in the air until her legs dangled near his
shoulders and she was almost standing on her head, a position which gave
the two young voyeurs outside an unobstructed new of her nether parts.
     Davie flushed crimson with embarrassment.  Here she was, standing
against a boy she hardly knew, watching her father and Trish in the most
blatant throes of love-making . . . violent sex, that's what it was.  She
wanted to run away, to crawl in a hole and never we any of them again.
How could she face her father, or Trish?  How could she bear to look at
Randy? . . .
     His hand was circling his throbbing penis, guiding it closer and
closer towards the moist lips of her surging pussy . . . parting the
fleecy cunt hair with the blood-engorged head.  Suddenly, he flexed his
hips and drove his mighty organ deep up into the hot, gaping mouth of her
hungry cunt with a flesh-tearing thrust that hammered his balls against
the naked and defenseless flesh of Trish's upturned buttocks.
     "Uuuuuaaaahhhhhh!" she screamed beneath him.  The elastic sheath
consumed his fleshy rod as it raced to the full length of her belly and
rammed hard against her cervix.
     "Ooooohhh!" she howled again.  "Aaaaahhh, that's it, lover . . .
that's the way to give it to me . . . that's the way to fuuuuuuccckk!"
     You're not going to give me any lessons, bitch!, he thought angrily.
For a moment he was caught up in the caressing sheath of her slippery
pussy, and he was tempted to forget his vendetta and fuck her to a fare-
thee-well just like that.  It felt so goddamm fabulous!  But maybe later
later he could fuck her pussy; after she had sucked his cock . . . which
would be after he fucked her in the ass!
     Davie had seen enough.  My father. . . and Trish . . . oh God,
they're . . . they're . . . doing it . . . like animals . . . both of them
naked and thrashing around on that bed, his thing all hard and wet and
jammed far up inside her belly.  She must have a pretty big pussy to be
able to take all that.  Noooo . . . it's too much . . .  I don't want that
to happen to me . . . noooo!
     Her mind rolling, her stomach churning with queasiness, Davie
struggled in blind panic and freed herself from Randy's captive grip.  She
had to get away, had to run from that vile scene, from that sinful,
animalistic display!  How could I have ever thought I wanted something
like that to happen to me?  Oh God, nooooo . . . please dear God, don't
let anything like that happen to me--ever!
     The tormented girl broke out in a dead run for her father's house.
Fear and anguish sent adrenaline coursing through her veins, and she ran
like the wind to get back to the safety, the privacy of her own bed.
     Randy followed, maintaining a brisk pace to keep her in his sights
and yet, staying far enough away not to alarm her further.  Shit!, he
swore to himself.  The goddamn thing's backfired.  Scared the begeezas out
of her!  Now I'm going to have a helluva time getting into her box!  I'll
have to walk on water to get into her pants tonight!
     Back in the bungalow used by the curvaceous blonde guest at Peter
Knight's resort, the two sweating figures on the bed were caught m the
throes of a grudge fuck, with Trish Byers coming out the worst.  Her
vindictive, dark-haired lover had abruptly withdrawn his rigid cock from
the warm closing depths of her hungry pussy, much to the blonde's
bewilderment and frustration, and was again kneeling before her wide-
spread, flailing legs, a sadistic leer on his normally handsome face.  The
woman's blue eyes were wide with apprehension.
     He grasped her legs under the knees and yanked her up even higher, so
that her head was twisted and her chin lay uncomfortably on her collar
bone.  He scooted forward, throwing her long, willowy legs back until she
was completely jackknifed, her knees hovering on either side of her head.
"Oooowww.  Not like this, Peter.  Not like this!" she cried, but he held
her legs in place while he used his cock as a probe to find the puckered
little entrance to her rectum.  The crevice had a rivulet of perspiration
trapped there, and he bathed the tip of his prick in the salty moisture,
stirring it around the brown nether entrance with his cockhead.  Without
warning, he thrust forward, splitting the resistant sphincter ring with
his massive cock.  Trish screamed out in pain.
     "Aaaaawwwww!  Nooooo!  It hurts!  IT HURTS!"
     Fired by her cries and brazen in his vengeance, Knight pressed
further into the tight elasticity of her nether passage.
     A searing shaft of pain accompanied his brutal penetration.  The
lovely blonde cried out again, and tears filled her eyes.  She begged him
to stop.  But to no avail.
     He thrust again, imbedding his steely pole even further into her
tortured anus.  She writhed and squirmed and tried to get out from under
her assailant, but she was helplessly pinned to the bed, and her
contortions only succeeded in driving his cock further into her ravaged
ass.  She felt as though she were being disemboweled by a flaming spear.
Her whole body trembled with pain and she cursed him aloud for his
brutality.  "I'll get you for this, you son-of-a-bitch!  I'll get you!
Bastard!  Goddamned fucking bastard!" she railed at him over and over
again.  But with each epithet she shrieked, the frenzied resort owner
rammed deeper and harder into her tortured anal passage, until there was
no where left to go but out.
     He rested for a moment, flexing his cock inside her, eliciting more
cries of pain from the switch hitting stewie.  Then slowly, ever so
slowly, he put it in reverse and began to pull out, until only the bloated
head was lodged inside her stretched anus.  He reached forward to grab her
beefy breasts with his hands, massaging them roughly; pinching the nipples
hard between his fingers.  She groaned under his manipulations, her body
racked with trembling.  He was paying her back--punishing her for what she
had done to his beautiful, innocent little girl.  He was settling a score
for Davie . . .
     He thrust forward again, burying his cock up to the hilt in Trish
Byer's tight and tortured asshole, until his balls smacked lewdly against
her upturned ass cheeks, evoking another banshee cry of pain from the
stewardess.  Then he began a determined sawing motion with his fully
inflated, lusting cock, feeling the pressure building and building in his
bails.  He had to cum soo.  He had to, had to!  If he didn't fill her ass
with his fiery seed soon, he was going to go out of his frigging mind!
Oh, oh, oh he had to cum!
     I have to cum . . . have to cum . . . have to . . . he chanted
wordlessly as he fucked deep and hard into the tight, hot and harassed
rectal passage.  Take that, bitch . . . and that, Francine . . . his mind
screamed, as he thought of his cold ex-wife and her emasculating
indifference to his needs.  Take that!, he shouted silently, as he
envisioned her blowing the fairy who was being sodomized by his faggot
lover.  There's only one . . . only one . . . pure (thrust) beautiful
(thrust) loving (thrust) desirable (thrust) woman (thrust) Davie (thrust)
. . .  Davie (thrust) . . . DAVIE!
     The hot, sticky load began its frenzied rush from his bloated scrotum
along the fiery tube of his cock.  He began to spew hot, thin streams into
the blonde's clasping asshole in a raging torment, emptying his frothy
payload deep, deep up into the tortured inner depths of her violated
rectum.
     "Aaaaaggghh, fuck it, baby, fuck it haaaaarrrrrddd!" the stewardess
was screaming at him as she lay writhing on the bed, her legs jackknifed
against her breasts and her crotch fully expanded for his pleasure.  Her
eyes were rolling in her head, and her face was contorted with lust and
pain as she desperately sought her own release.
     No!  Oh no you don't, bitch!, he said to himself when his blurry
thought congealed.  He pulled his stud hard cock out of her anus as if it
were a greased pig.  The suction noises were embarrassing.  His cockhead
traded stringy, mucous-like strands of semen as he hovered over her and
pulled her legs down on the bed.  Her face was tear-stained and black
mascara smudged her cheeks.  Her lipstick was smeared across her face.
She looked anything but the cool, confident seductress who had goaded him
into fucking her.  He felt a wave of pity for her then; she was so
vulnerable, so totally demoralized.  God, how he despised her!
     She whimpered at him pathetically.  "Please, Peter, please don't hurt
me anymore.  Let me love you, honey.  Let me show you what kind of woman I
can be for you . . ."
     "Of course, sweetie.  Of course I'm going to let you show me . . .
right now . . . right this moment, my dear . . ."
     His voice was calm and quiet.  He smiled warmly at her--too warmly.
He reached up to her and began to ease the constricting dress down her
arms.  It wasn't easy.  Finally, he rolled it down around her hips, so
that her arms were free.  It was a simple matter to get it off her after
that.
     There were red marks on her arms where the cloth had bound her limbs.
He took each arm in turn, and rubbed it vigorously, evoking a grateful
smile from the unsuspecting vamp.  Then he began to kiss her breasts
again, only lightly, tenderly now.  He raised each of his legs and pushed
hers together between them.  Then he walked on his knees up the bed, until
his half-hard cock was only inches from her mouth.
     "Now, Trish.  Love me now.  Love my cock.  Take my cock into your
mouth, sweetie, and lick off every drop of cum . . .  And if you love me
well, if you're really a good little cock sucker, I'll let you love me
with your pussy.  I'll let you suck out some more of my cum with your hot,
hungry cunt!"

Chapter 8

     Davie had flung herself across the bed and was sobbing as the
scheming, incestuous brother of her so-called "friend" kneeled beside her
on the floor, a comforting hand on her back.
     "That's right, Davie, let it all out.  Just cry away--everything you
saw going on in that room.  Let that whole scene between my sister and
your dad wash right out of your eyes," he told her tenderly, cunningly.
     The distraught young girl cried even harder, her pitiful sobs filling
the darkened bedroom.  She felt lost, empty, and she didn't know where to
turn.  Her father . . . the one person in the world she loved and
respected . . . lying there naked on the bed rutting with a woman she
thought was a trusted friend . . . the same woman who had . . . been with
her at the beach today . . .  Oh God, oh God!  The whole world was
crashing down around her!  She thought everything would be all right once
she got to Eleuthera.  Isn't that what Trish said?  Isn't that what her
father had said: "Everything's going to work out fine .  . just fine!"
Yes . . . for them!
     Now Randy was her only friend.  She had been betrayed by her father
and Trish . . . and yet, they were doing something that's perfectly
natural; something all grownups do . . . they wouldn't have done it in
front of her.  Still, she had always thought of sex as something good and
clean, something you did with someone you really loved--not just the
slapping together of bodies . . .  She was so confused.  If only she
hadn't seen them together . . . if only she hadn't seen her mother with
those two disgusting fairies . . . if only she hadn't let Trish lick her
between the legs this afternoon . . .  It was all too much, too fast.  She
didn't really hate her father, and she didn't really hate Trish, either;
but something was lost, gone forever . . .  Something had changed in her
attitude toward the man who had sired her, and toward the woman who she
thought was her friend--and she didn't know what it was.  It only filled
her with an unutterable sadness.  She felt like a little girl lost.
     The tears gushed freely until her lovely eyes stung and she felt her
nose was a red balloon.  She was only dimly aware that Randy was
whispering consoling words in her ear; that he was stroking her dark hair
and rubbing her shoulder comfortingly.  His voice was hypnotic, his touch,
reassuring.
     ". . . and just forget it, Davie.  Forget that they were naked on
that bed . . . forget that they were all turned on and saying things . . .
all those dirty words.  Don't think about how they must have felt . . .
what it must have been like for them on that bed . . . no, honey, just put
all that out of your mind . . ."
     Put it out of her mind.  That's what she had to do, of course.  That
is what she would do.  She'd put those pictures out of her mind, too . . .
the ones in VIVA . . . Randy and that Oriental girl . . .  No!, not Randy
. . . somebody else . . .
     Randy got up and sat on the edge of the bed.  Her face was turned
away from him and he kept stroking her hair and whispering comforting
words, over and over . . .  Then he stroked her shoulder again, and her
soft, bare arm.  His hand was warm; his touch was delicate, deft.  It felt
so good to be caressed by this handsome, understanding boy who was her
only friend now.  He was right, she mustn't think about what she saw a
little while ago in Trish's bungalow; she mustn't let that image remain
vividly implanted on her brain . . .
     "Don't, Davie . . . don't think about it anymore . . ." he said as he
gently took her shoulder in his hand and turned her over on her back.  He
brushed some wispy strands of hair away from her fevered face and smiled
at her tenderly.  He knew that his words were having the desired effect on
her now; she was thinking about her father and Trish, of course, just as
he had hoped she would.  It's going to work after all, he thought
exultantly.  I'm going to score with this tight little cherry tonight!
     Davie looked up into his strong, handsome face.  His words seemed to
flow like molasses into her ears.  She was fully aware that he was telling
her not to think of what she had witnessed, but the vision became fixed in
her mind instead.  In fact, the more he droned on, the more he stroked her
hair and her arms and talked to her in his soporific way, the more
clarified became the scene in her mind.  She didn't want to think about
it, but she couldn't put it out of her consciousness, she just couldn't.
     And strangely enough, the images in the lovely teen's brain were
beginning to have a certain physical effect on her innocent flesh as well.
She could feel a strange, twitching sensation deep in her belly; the same
kind of sensation she had felt when Randy kissed her on the steps.  She
suddenly felt like being kissed again, and she must have communicated this
to the hot-blooded youth, for he slowly leaned over her and pressed his
lips to hers again, not French kissing her this time, but just kissing her
softly and tenderly and very, very excitingly.
     She began to tremble slightly under the pressure of his chest against
her body, not from shock or weeping now, but from something far more
basic, something that was the captive woman inside yearning to break free
. . .
     Randy felt the young girl trembling beneath his embrace and he smiled
inwardly.  She's almost ready . . . almost.  Easy does it, fella.  This is
the crucial moment, right now.  Just a little bit more and you'll be home
free!
     He let his face rest on hers while he continued to stroke her hair
and brush it away from her fevered face until finally, he let his hand
move down, down ever so slowly and gently onto the swelling mound of her
nubile young breast.  She was breathing faster now, and so was he, as he
continued to implant the image of her father's sexual escapade with his
lucious, naked sister in her confused young mind.
     He began to rub the pliant globe tenderly and lightly and he felt her
stiffen at his touch.  But she made no initial effort to push his hand
away.  He smiled to himself, confident that he had won the first round.
He kept caressing her breast, running his thumb across the hardened little
nipple, his heart pounding in his chest and his cock leaping like a wild
bronco in his pants.
     Suddenly, a red light flashed in Davie Knight's brain, warning her to
stop this gentle boy's caresses, warning her to stop before it was too
late, before her own body betrayed her and she was suddenly swept away in
a flooding tide of passion.  Yes, she had to stop him . . . stop him from
feeling up her breast, even though it felt soooo good, so warm and
wonderful.  The sensations in her body were already beckoning her on . . .
on into the dark and terrifying unknown.  They were sounding a siren call
to her most primitive and latent grownup desires . . .
     "No!  No, Randy!  Stop!" she cried, pulling his hand away and rolling
away from his into an upright, sitting position, her back to him and her
head buried in her hands.  She was a living, breathing conundrum of
confused desire.
     The lust-ridden youth was taken completely by surprise.  He had been
strongly confident that she was totally his now.  He gaped at her for a
moment, then reached out and grabbed her, pulling her back into the fold
of his arms.  "Take it easy, Davie," he panted, "it's all right.
Everything's just fine . . ."
     Now he was saying it, too!  Why was everything "just fine" for
everyone else except her?  Nothing was "just fine" . . .
     She tried to resist him.  "No, you shouldn't touch me like that . . .
you know you shouldn't; not after what we just saw.  It's wrong."
     "What's wrong about it, Davie?" he asked desperately, feeling his
conquest slipping irretrievably from him.  "It's not wrong--it's right,
don't you see that, Davie?  It's right because you're a woman now, Davie,
a woman--with a woman's body and a woman's needs.  You're ready to fulfill
that womanhood . . . you're ready to give in to your emotions, Davie . . .
to let that woman inside of you free . . .
     "Like Trish does . . . if that's the kind of woman I'm supposed to
be--a bitch in heat!"
     "You'll be fortunate--very fortunate--if you ever come half way close
to being the woman Trish is!" he flung back hotly.  Then he cursed himself
for being so rash.  "What I mean, Davie, is that . . ."  He drew a long
breath.  Shit!  How do I get out of this one!  "See, your dad and Trish,
they've both been around the block.  They're mature people.  They both dig
it, because that's the way it's meant to be.  If it wasn't, well, nobody
would turn on in the first place.  You'd see why they were doing it, you'd
know why they were both naked on that bed together if you let yourself he
the woman you are . . . if you let yourself go and make love . . . with me
. . .  I want to make love to you, Davie . . .  I want to feel your
beautiful naked body next to mine . . . want to give myself to you, the
way a man gives himself to a woman . . . in bed . . .
     "Noooo!" she wailed, totally afraid now.  She didn't understand what
had come over Randy.  He was so nice before, almost like a brother . . .
What was he thinking of now?  How could he be thinking of doing to her
what her father was doing to Trish?
     Randy was beside himself now.  Panic mixed with pride and rage
coursed through his young loins.  You little prick teasing bitch!, he
swore at her silently.  You're not getting off the hook that easy!  I'm
going to fuck you tonight, even if it means tearing off that innocent
little dress and raping you!
     He grabbed Davie's breasts in both his hands and forced her down on
the bed, pinning her there with his agile body.  She struggled, trying to
scream, but he clamped his mouth tightly onto her, forcing her lips wide
apart with his lips and tongue, sending his oral probe deep into her soft,
warm mouth as though it were his cock in her cunt which it soon would be,
his cock into her tight little hole.  The terrified young girl continued
to struggle, but her struggled only excited the passion-crazed youth who
pressed his strong body, with its unavoidable witness of masculinity,
harder into her loins.  He was going to rape her!  She knew it now.  She
had so often dreamed of the first time with a boy.  In those childish
fantasies, the boy was always gentle, tender and patient.  Now she was
going to be ravaged by a man she had trusted . . . a man who had suddenly
gone out of control.  Noooooo!
     But the young teenage girl was helpless beneath the powerful, lust-
crazed youth.  He reached down and grabbed the hem of her thin cotton
dress and began working it up her legs.  Her struggles only assisted and
fanned his raging desire.  Every time she squirmed, she rubbed against his
burgeoning cock, exciting the passionate young man even more.  Finally,
the dress was hiked up over her bare breasts and under her armpits,
leaving her totally naked except for the rumpled rag around her upper
chest.  Davie was humiliated beyond words, and she lay on her back
struggling, trying to turn her face away from the demanding youth, her
eyes blurred by tears.
     "No, honey . . . don't cry," he kept saying to her, his voice
quavering, "there's nothing to cry about . . . you want it, Davie . . .
you know you want it . . . want to feel my cock inside you, the way Trish
felt your old man's . . . it's a beautiful thing . . . beautiful to feel a
warm, hard cock in you hot little pussy . . . oh, baby . . .  I want to
fuck you, baby . . .  I want you, honey . . . got to have you . . ."
     His eyes feasted on her naked, trembling breast flesh, and he raised
a hand to the circular mounds, pinching one tiny coral nipple until it
stood firm and erect.  Then he repeated the process with the other.  And
then he swooped down like a sea gull and engulfed one breast gluttonously
in his mouth, pulling the nipple and the aureole between his lips and
sucking and nibbling voraciously on the sensitive flesh.  Davie cried out
in protest, but he paid no attention.  Who would come to her rescue--her
old man?  Hah!  He was fucking the shit out of somebody else at that
moment!
     Randy licked voraciously at the delectable flesh of Davie's breasts
and nipples, his cock near to bursting with desire and demanding release.
Davie's body's threshed wildly beneath him, and he sensed that her
frenetic movements were not totally inspired by fear, that rather, it was
his mouth and tongue on her naked tits that was causing her such
agitation.
     Faster and faster his mouth and tongue licked over the trembling
young globes, setting them afire with his liquid firebrand.  Then his hand
dipped down to her dark, fleecy pubic mound, and his fingers crawled over
her soft pussy hair and into her slick, virginal pussy slit.  He almost
went wild with delirium and expectation.
     "Ooooooohhhh!" Davie cried fearfully as she felt his merciless touch
on her secret pants.  "Noooo, Randy . . . stop it . . . you've got to
stop!"
     ". . . can't . . .  I can't stop now . . . it feels so great . . .
oooohhh, God it feels good . . ."
     He spread her legs rudely to give him greater access to her trembling
cunt.  Davie flailed her head insanely from side to side and tried to push
him away with her small fists, but her efforts were useless.  She stared
up at the passion-contorted features of the sexy blond boy with terror in
her eyes terror mixed with excitement.  She was aroused more than she had
ever been.  But she was afraid, too.  No, no, no!  Please don't let this
happen.  I don't want it to happen, not like this!  I don't want to be
raped.  I don't want you to hurt me.  Ohhhhh, noooo!, she screamed
silently.
     As though he had received her mute plea telepathically and was
contemptuous of her request, Randy began tearing at his own clothes,
unable to get them off fast enough.  She heard a button fail to the floor
as he clawed at his shirt.  He swore under his breath as he fumbled with
his belt buckle and zipper, then almost lost his balance as he attempted
to pull down his pants while he was kneeling between her legs, holding
them with his powerful knees.  If she hadn't been so frightened, she might
have giggled at his clumsy, feverish attempt to undress while keeping her
in her place beneath him.  But where there's a will-of-the-aching-cock,
there's a fucking way, and in a matter of moments, Randy, too, was bare-
ass naked before her, his throbbing, rock-hard cock standing away from his
muscular belly like a flag pole.  Her eyes widened an disbelief.  God, he
did look like the model in the photograph!  How did Trish know that?
     Through fear-widened eyes, the lovely teenager watched the
threatening instrument above her; the massive girth, the hard, blue-veined
head, the wet droplets of seminal lubrication oozing from the tiny slit in
the end.  It was big, all right, though not as big as her fathers.  She
thanked God for that.
     Suddenly, the frenzied blond youth moved down on top of her, forcing
himself brutally between her slender legs, his hips falling heavily to
wedge her tender young thighs far apart, securing her bouncing young
buttocks to the mattress.  The dark downy curls of her pubic hair brushed
tantalizingly against his throbbing cockhead, inciting him to
unintelligible babblings of frenzied lust, drowning her low moans of fear
and protest.  Randy placed his knees between her thighs to hold her open
to him, grinding his pelvis hard into her defenseless crotch.  Then he
grabbed hold of his cock and worked it up teasingly up and down until he
parted the moist lips of her cunt with his prick's swollen tip.  He paused
momentarily before the entrance of the snug, undefiled passage, panting
heavily, droplets of sweat beading his body.  Then . . .
     He let out a loud groan, thrust his hips forward . . . and rammed
into her like a Mack truck hitting a stack of cardboard boxes!
     His long, sleek cock slid into her tight, vainly resisting little
cunt with a roaring fury, pushing the soft, moist flesh of her vaginal
walls in pressured waves before it, tearing her hymen like so much tissue
paper.
     "Aaaarrrrraannggghh!" Davie screamed.  "OH MY GOOOOODDD!"  Her naked
passage felt as if his plunging weapon had ripped it into a thousand tiny
shards and she would bleed like a stuck pig.  Then his balls slapped
harshly off her wet, furrowed buttocks, and he was filling her completely,
mercilessly, with no thought of her pain.  His shaft lay sunk deep in her
belly, like a white-hot pole of living fire rammed deep in her, and there
wasn't one tiny ridge of her cunt walls left untouched and unpaved by the
boy's marauding penis.
     He lay still for a moment then, his perspiring face next to her's,
his hot breath fanning her ear like that of a satyr's.  Then he raised his
head and looked at her, lust contorting his handsome face.  "How does that
feel, honey?  How does it feel to have my big, slippery cock deep inside
your tight, sweet pussy?" he panted to her.
     Davie hooked at him contemptuously.  "How do you think it feels, you
. . . you animal!  It hurts!  It's killing me!
     "No, baby.  Don't say that.  You don't mean that.  You like it.  You
love it.  You want it, don't you?  Don't you!"  And he flexed his rigid
cock inside her and shoved it ever harder against her cervix.
     "Aaaaaahhhhhhh.  Uuuuuunnnggghh!" she wailed again.
     He began a slow, rocking motion between her thighs, seating her soft
and sensitive flesh with waves of pain as his expanded prick widened the
tight passage with each short, smooth stroke.  Davie's legs jackknifed in
a frantic effort to escape the barbaric impalement, but it only served to
worsen her position.  Pitiable screams of pain came tumbling from deep in
the subjugated young girl's throat as his rock-hard shaft battered her
yielding cunt flesh.  He was driven onward by her hapless cries; nothing
could have deterred him now--not even the appearance of her old man.  His
only thought was to deliver the load of semen that weighted his hairy
balls, and she slammed the twin blocks of lust into her again and again in
a desperate rush for orgasmic release.  Faster and faster his pelvis
slammed onto the sweating, defenseless loins of the naked young teenager,
never letting up, never slackening his thrust to give her an opportunity
to adjust to his rampaging cock.  There was nothing for him now but
cumming, cumming . . .
     Davie's body was aching with pain, but her brain was awhirl with
crazy, confusing thoughts; confetti in the wind.  It's inside me, a man's
thing . . . for the first time . . . and the pain . . . it hurts . . .
it's so hot and hard in me . . .  Trish said it hurt the first time, for
awhile . . . he's raping me . . . a very sexy boy, but why Is he doing it
like this? . . .  I thought it would kill me when he shoved it in . . .
doesn't hurt as much now . . . so hot and hard inside me . . . a woman . .
. does this make me a woman? . . . it hurts kind of good . . .
     Then all at once, her body, as though floating off like a severed
space capsule, began to respond involuntarily to the fierce hammerings
from Randy Ferris's bludgeoning cock.  She didn't think about it
consciously, didn't understand or want to.  She merely acted
instinctively.  Her whole being began to twist and writhe beneath him and
she groaned incessantly.  Her hot, hungry mouth sought Randy's and she
moaned into the dark, warm grotto and stuck her tongue wildly inside.
Faint mewls of submission issued from the back of her throat.  Her face
was wrung with passion her mouth toiled and her neck strained; her
nostrils flared lewd flames of desire began to consume her.  Something was
driving her on now, something in her body that made her want to answer his
thrusts with complementary motions of her own.
     She was liking it!
     She was enjoying Randy's penis inside her!  It still hurt, but just
as he had said, she did like it; she did want it.  The starting admission
to herself struck the lovely girl with the impact of a kick in the
stomach.  It couldn't be true, it just couldn't and yet it was!  Davie's
pussy had finally adjusted to the girth and length filling it and, though
there was still some pain, she had begun to be aware more of the
pleasurable sensations inside her.  Her entire body was tingling, and she
could feel the many enjoyable jolts along with the painful ones, jolts of
sensual pleasure that she had never known before; they had been stored in
her child's body just waiting for release, just waiting for the
opportunity to transform her from a little girl into a sensuous woman.
     Going herself up completely now to the wild sensuality taking hold of
her, Davie flung her legs wider for her hot-blooded seducer, giving him
better access to her demanding pussy.  She was no longer oppressed by fear
or pain or conflict, only by the swirling heat which attacked her body
like a raging inferno.  Her hands clutched convulsively at his back, nails
raking across it, drawing skin with them and raising small welts in her
ardor as she sent her tongue hard into Randy's mouth, her saliva mingling
with his and flowing from the corners of her soft, pink lips.  Crazed with
passion and arousal now, the lovely young brunette rolled her hips beneath
the hot shaft submerged in her once-innocent belly, her pussy walls
completely accepting everything he could give to her newly-conquered cunt.
The swollen twins of his testicles rammed harder and harder against her
quivering buttocks as he sought his release.  Davie wanted to cum now,
too!
     As he got closer and closer to his orgasm, Randy became increasingly
aware that the young virgin was no longer fighting him, was no longer
afraid; that her scratchings on his flesh were done out of desire rather
than fear.  She was helping him, fucking with him now . . . damned if she
wasn't digging it!  The way her tongue shot into his mouth, the way she'd
thrown her legs wide, the way she was twisting her body in the newly
discovered rhythm of a sensual woman first experiencing sexual intercourse
. . . they all told him that she liked him fucking her; liked it, wanted
it, wanted to cum and wanted him to cum, to fill her up with his hot,
molten seed . . .
     Yes . . . ooohhh YYYYYSSSSS!  The gun had been cocked and the last
lewd finger of thought pulled the trigger.  His cock began jerking
insanely in her soft, elastic pussy as he bucked and heaved above her;
great billows of heat swirled through his loins as he emptied his hirsute
balls of his seed and the molten cum raced along the length of his cock
and exploded inside the virginal belly of the bucking young beauty beneath
him--again and again and again, a never-ceasing flow of liquid fire
filling her chaste cunt, despoiling it, filling it to overflowing.
     And Davie accepted his cum, mewling wildly into his mouth, her legs
kicking and jerking in the air as her invaded cunt was jolted again and
again with the hot spurts of jism from his fiery tool.  Never had she
known such intense feelings!  Oh God, was this what doing it was like all
the time?  Was this the way it was, this crazy, wild abandoned feeling?
Ooooohhhhh, it was soooo good!  Now she needed to cum too, wanted to cum
with him, while he was spewing his fire into her belly . . .
     She strove for release with every muscle in her inexperienced young
body.  "Don't stop, Randy, don't stop!  Don't stop now!" she cried out to
him as she bucked wildly against him as hard as she could.  She was close
. . . so close.  The sensations were building, building in her loins.  She
knew what it was to cum, knew the delicious torment that preceded it . . .
she was feeling that torment now, straining, reaching, fucking back on his
spewing cock.  She had to cum on this beautiful boy's cock.  She had to .
. . had to cum!
     She did.  A thousand taunting feathers tickled her innards with fire
and she flailed her head on the bed in answer to the rapture that filled
her young, climaxing body.  She gasped and groaned and sputtered her
release as she gave herself to the sexy and selfish young man who had
deflowered her so brutally.  Randy swelled with pride as he felt her
release, as he experienced the beautiful young girl beneath his body being
racked by a powerful climax.  Geezus Christ!, he never expected that to
happen, not the first time!  This chick is something else!, he was
thinking while he obliged her and continued to fuck into her long after
his cock had finished shooting its load of white, frothy cum into her
belly.  Finally, it was over, and he wearily collapsed on top of her, both
of them gasping for breath.  They lay there for several minutes together,
not saying another word, until their breathing returned to normal and his
deflating cock slipped from the flooded sheath of her young pussy with an
obscene sluicing sound, dripping a tell-tale vestige of semen across her
white thigh as he rolled off her and onto his back.
     He reached over and pulled her onto him.  "Oh God, Davie!" he
breathed up at her, covering her sweating face with moist, hot kisses,
"That was wonderful, just fantastic, the best I've ever had!  Oh Davie,
honey, I'm sorry I was so rough on you, but I couldn't control myself . .
. you were driving me out of my ever-lovin' mind!  You understand, don't
you?  Please tell me that you understand, that you forgive me--please.  I
know you like it, baby.  I know you did.  Even for your first time.  It
was good, wasn't it?  Wasn't it good?  And it's going to get better . . ."
     The ravished young brunette beauty lay propped on her elbow, her chin
cupped en her hand, looking at him for a long time without speaking.  Then
a slow, inscrutable smile began to form at her sensuous full lips.  "I
understand, Randy, I really do.  And . . . yes, I did like it and . . .
maybe I'm crazy but . . .  I do forgive you," she said quietly.  Then she
hesitated for a moment, her large, lovely hazel eyes looking steadily into
his, before she asked him innocently, "When can we do it again? . . ."

Chapter 9

     "That was fantastic, Peter, just fantastic.  I don't know when I've
been fucked quite so breathless," the exhausted blonde said sincerely.
But her mind was filled with dark thoughts of revenge em the virile resort
owner for the way he had treated her--like a filthy whore!  It wasn't
enough him to give her a savage ass fucking; he made her lick his cock
clean right afterwards, then suck his huge cock off while he kneeled over
her with his big hands knotted in her hair.  He almost pulled it out by
the roots!  It wasn't until after all that that he fucked her cunt, that
he let her cum too!  The bastard!  The stuck-up fucking bastard!  Who the
hell does he think he is, treating her like that . . . calling her those
filthy names?  What the hell does he have against her?
     Peter Knight lay beside the voluptuous blonde with his eyes closed.
He was sated, fulfilled, completely at peace.  He smiled inwardly, knowing
that he should feel some kind of remorse for his vicious treatment of the
cunt-eating stewardess, but he didn't.  He had settled the score, so to
speak.  Not only with her, but with Francine--thought his ex-wife's
comeuppance for what she had subjected Davie to was still to be arranged.
     His ego was bolstered, he was king of the mountain now.  He never
thought he would be able to get it up three times in a row!  Why the hell
had he denied himself for so long?  Too bad the blonde bitch couldn't keep
her hands off his tender daughter; if he hadn't seen that, he would feel
different about her perhaps . . . she certainly was one helluva fuck,
about the best he'd ever had, matching him stroke for stroke, turning him
on to unbelievable heights of passion with her obscene words and her
flaming, unbridled sexuality.  She was a white witch, using some kind of
voodoo magic on him to draw the fiery cum out of his balls.  His only
regret was that he had given her the satisfaction of capitulating to her
brazen desirability.  He would have gotten more points in his own mind if
he had walked away from her a few hours ago without so much as a kiss.
But then, look what he would have missed!
     A few hours ago!  Geezus christ--Davie!  She was home alone--she'd
better be!  Dammit--he had allowed his own sexual craving to overshadow
his new-found duties to his young daughter; he had been weak when he
should have been strong!  He had to get back to the house!
     He roe unsteadily to his feet.  His mind was alert, but his body
responded torpidly.  He blinked and looked around the room.  The moon had
risen on the horizon and the warm, blue shadows no longer illuminated the
room.  Still, they had never bothered to turn on a light, so his eyes had
only slight difficulty adjusting to the dimness.  He scuffed around the
room, gathering his discarded clothing and began to dress.  He also began
to collect his thoughts.
     What to do about Trish Byers . . . he didn't want to see her again
and yet, he did.  He had never known a woman as wildly abandoned, as
insatiable, as fantastic in bed, despite the handicap he gave her.  But
she also represented a danger to his way of life, to the permanent reunion
he was planning for him and Davie--he didn't want his darling little girl
in the blonde's cunt-eating clutches ever again!  One way to insure that
was to keep the stewie stuffed full of his cock!  But how would Davie feel
about that?  What was she supposed to do while he was off screwing around
with Trish? . . .  She was still provocatively naked when he came out of
the bathroom.  Goddamn, she was gorgeous, a paen to carnal lust, right
there in the flesh!  He took her hand and raised her up off the bed,
drawing her naked body close to him.  "Get some sleep, kid.  I'll see you
tomorrow--or rather, later today," he said, smiling down at her.
     "Really?" she asked, arching her eyebrows.
     "Well, sure.  Maybe we'll go for a drive up and down the island!" he
grinned.
     "I can hardly wait," she teased back.
     He surprised himself by suddenly saying, "You know something?
Neither can I . . ."

*    *    *

     Randy Ferris waited impatiently in the shadowy trees that bordered
his sister's guest unit until he saw the door open and Davie's father
started down the path along the beach for home.  He had been scared to
death of seeing Knight on the way, after he left the dude's deflowered
daughter to her sweet--and sexy dreams!  He had given her something to
dream about, all right!  And she had given him plenty to tell Trish!  He
couldn't get over how much that little doll baby had changed while he was
fucking her.  She'd been nothing but a tight-assed, naive cherry school-
girl when they'd watched her old man giving it to Trish, and later, when
he'd tried to talk her into letting him fuck her.  But once he had his
cock up her pussy.  she'd undergone a goddamned transformation to rival
any in the world!  She almost broke his pecker with that hot, sweet body
of hers, fucking him back like a tigress--like Trish, for chrissake!  That
was really saying something.  And then she'd really blown his mind
afterwards, when he was apologizing to her, buttering her up so she
wouldn't squeal to her old man, asking her to forgive him for raping her!
"When can we do it again?" she asks, WHEN CAN WE DO IT AGAIN!  Geezus!
     He grinned to himself.  All that sweating for nothing--he
should have known it would all be cool.  Chicks didn't take ol' Randy's
cock inside their bellies just once without wanting it up there again and
again!
     He walked up to the door and knocked softly.  "Trish . . . it's me.
Hail the conquering hero, home from the war . . ."  She met him as he
opened the door.  His gorgeous sister was wearing a confident smile--and
that was all!
     "Come in, you beautiful hunk," she said to him, wrapping her graceful
arms around his neck, "and tell your ever-lovin' sister all!"  He did.  He
told her everything in minute detail as he took off his clothes and got
into the big bed with her.  He told her all about Davie Knight between
hot, tonguing kisses, and as he sucked her breasts.  He told her how he
had practically raped the frightened brunette as he lay between her legs
with his cock plugged into her pussy.  He told her how the young virgin
had suddenly gone wild and fucked him back, as his beautiful blonde sister
returned his heated thrusts with masterful thrusts of her own . . . until
they came together on the bed, each body part of a synchronized machine .
. . each lapsing into memories of the exciting first encounters with the
very sexy, very promising father-daughter team.
     Then Trish told Randy what had happened with Peter Knight--how he had
sodomized her, then made her suck his cock . . .  (She was sucking Randy's
cock as she related her tale of mistreatment.)  After she finished blowing
her brother, she let him in on her latest plan a way to have her fucking
cake and eat it, too!  The youth's heavy lidded eyes widened with
apprehension.  "Trish, you're out of your mind.  Knight is never going to
go for that!  You're really asking for trouble this time," he said
incredulously.
     She gave him one of her wiser-than-thou smiles as she snuggled next
to him and drew the sheet over their tired, spent bodies.  "Wait and we,
lovey . . . Just wait and see . . ."

Chapter 10

     A radiant, refreshed Davie Knight awoke around 9:30 the next morning
from a deep and delicious sleep.  God, she felt great!  Absolutely
marvelous.  Her cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled; she was exquisitely
healthy . . .
     She sat up in bed clutching her bent knees to her chest.  A satisfied
smile played constantly around her full, sensuous lips.  Over and over she
kept thinking to herself, I'm a woman now--a real woman!  I'm not just a
scared kid in school any more . . . I'm a woman!  I've had a man's warm,
wonderful penis inside me . . .  I've been made love to--fucked--by a man,
and I want to have it again.  Oh, I can't wait to have Randy's big
beautiful cock inside me again!
     She giggled girlishly to herself as she thought how wicked it was of
her to have such blatant desires.  No wonder Trish said the things she did
yesterday at the beach--she's had it hundreds of times probably and really
loves it and needs it.  And Daddy, too, and probably even more, because
he's a man, and men always seem to be horny!  That's just the way they
were built.  Besides, Daddy is such a strong, handsome, virile man . . .
it was easy to see why Trish wanted him to make love to her . . .
     Davie reviewed the scene in Trish's room, with the two of them naked
and screwing wantonly.  She was no longer shocked or upset by what she had
witnessed.  She understood now what made them go at each other like, well,
not like animals exactly, but like two people who were just ready turned
on and had to have each other.  Sure, she could get behind that, and she
didn't feel any more animosity toward Trish, no disappointment with her
father.  She knew she could face him now, because each of them had secrets
they couldn't share with the other . . . not yet, anyway.
     Thoughts of her father suddenly caused her to turn and look in his
direction.  He was lying on his side in the big bed, sound asleep.  Poor
lamb, he's pooped, she thought sympathetically.  He must have had quite a
night of it!
     Her heart swelled with pride as she thought of her strong, handsome
daddy making love to Trish Byers.  He's got to be a fantastic lover, with
that heavenly body, and that enormous penis of his . . . it must have felt
so good to Trish . . . Daddy's wonderful thing deep inside her . . . what
would it be like to feel all that cock stuffed inside her?
     Davie suddenly realized that she had been thinking of herself . . .
her and her daddy!  What was the matter with her?  She must be nuts, sick,
to think a thing like that!  Good God--her own father . . . her daddy, her
daddy's penis!
     She got up quickly and pulled a pair of shorts and a halter top out
of the drawer, tore off her shortie pajamas and dressed in a flash.  Then
she tiptoed past her father's bed into the bathroom, where she brushed her
teeth and splashed water on her face.  She smiled at her reflection in the
mirror as she combed her hair.  Yes, she looked like a real woman now . .
.
     A phone call to Benny, the maitre d', brought a kitchen assistant to
the house in less than fifteen minutes.  He arrived in a golf cart with a
huge tray of covered dishes.  Davie gave him a dollar and thanked him
effusively, aware that the young man's dark eyes roamed her body with
barely concealed interest.  He hadn't paid much attention to her before,
it seemed.  Did he think she looked like a real woman too?
     She went outside to gather a few of the more fragrant island
wildflowers that grew in the sandy ground.  There wasn't much, but she
made a clever little bouquet from what she could find and placed them in a
little glass pot she found in the cupboard.  Then she placed the pot on
the serving tray and took it into the bedroom where her beloved father
still lay fast asleep.
     Putting the tray down on the large, low night stand next to the bed,
she leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.  He stirred and
brought his hand up to his face as though to brush away a fly.  Davie
giggled.  Then she repeated the kiss, this time letting her lips linger
for a second longer.  "Wake up, lazy bones.  Rise and shine," she
whispered in his ear.
     Peter Knight was dreaming about Trish Byers--and about his daughter.
     He was lying naked on a bed with two naked serving girls offering him
platters of sumptuous food.  The platters hid their faces.  At his silent
command, both women brought the silver trays before him, exposing their
beautiful, lusting faces--Trish . . . and Davie!  Then the girls formed a
human bridge across his body and began to kiss each other.  He caressed
both their bodies with his fingertips, marveling at the softness of their
skin . . . the incredible feel of their breasts on his hairy chest.  His
cock was rigidly erect.  He pushed the women apart and sat up between
them.  Everything was in slow motion.  Trash straddled him and slid
backward towards his cock, lifting her body languorously and lowering it
closer and closer to his throbbing malehead.  But just as she was about to
impale herself on has scalding rod, she suddenly took on the form and face
of his daughter!  He immediately went soft, and Davie chided him: "Get it
up, Daddy!  Get it up!"  She reached down and shook him by the shoulders,
rubbing her lithe young body against his groin, making him swell to
instant hardness again.  "Get it up, Daddy . . . Daddy, get it up!" . . .
     "Daddy, get up.  Get up, Daddy!" Davie shouted to him as she shook
his broad shoulder as best she could with her small hand.  His eyes flew
open and he shook his head, trying to clear his muddled brain of the
erotic dream.  Much to his dismay, he had a huge erection.  It was damned
lucky he was lying on his side!
     "Davie, what are you doing here?" he asked dumbly.
     "I live here, silly.  Remember?" she said with a little ripple of
laughter.  "Gee, you sure are hard to wake up.  But you have to now; your
breakfast won't stay hot forever, you know."
     "Breakfast?"  The smell of scrambled eggs and ham and strong, hot
coffee wafted unto his nostrils.  He turned to her.  She was learning over
him, reaching for another pillow to prop behind his head.  Mutely he
raised himself up, catching sight of her bobbing young breasts as she
plumped the two pillows together behind him.  He looked up into her face--
she was so fresh, so wholesome, so goddamn sexy.
     The lithe brunette beauty smiled lovingly at her bewildered father.
"I hope you won't be mad at me, Daddy.  I wanted to serve you breakfast in
bed, so I had them send it up from the dining room," she said brightly,
then added, "you're not mad, are you?"
     He grinned at her reassuringly.  "Course not, honey.  How could I
possibly be mad at that?  I think this is the first time in my life I've
ever been served breakfast in bed by a beautiful young lady; it's not even
my birthday!"
     "Well, it won't be the last time, I can promise you that . . . not as
long as I'm here!" she added.  Then she stopped short, looking at him
anxiously.  "I will be here, won't I, Daddy?"
     "Yes, darling.  You'll be here.  You can count on that."
     "Oh, Daddy . . .  I love you so much!" she said, grabbing him around
the neck and hugging his face tightly to her yielding bosom.  He was so
good, so fine, so human . . . how could she have been so confused and
tormented when she saw him doing something as natural as making love, her
wonderful daddy? . . .
     They ate breakfast together then, with Davie sitting on the edge of
the bed, chattering brightly about all sorts of things the two of them
could do together.  Very casually he inquired about Randy Ferris, and how
long the blonde youth had stayed.
     "Oh, just a little while, Daddy.  He didn't want to make you mad,
because he wants to take me for a swim . . ." she said, concentrating on
the marmalade she was spreading on her toast with unusual determination.
     "That's nice," the handsome man said absent-mindedly.  He was
watching Davie's firm little breast jostle against its twin under her
green print halter.  "Sure, I suppose you could go for a swim with him
sometime . . .  His mind screamed, No!  I don't want that raunchy little
bastard to see Davie in a bikini!  What if he persuades her to take it
off, the way Trish did?
     "Could I, Daddy?" she asked, looking up hopefully at him.
     "Absolutely."
     "Oh, great!  Thank you, Daddy.  He's coming to pick me up at 11:00."
     "What!  That's out of the question.  You . . . you got too much sun
yesterday.  You can put that swimming business off until tomorrow or the
next day!" he sputtered.
     Davie looked at him, disappointment and dismay plainly evident in her
lovely face.  "Daddy!  What's the matter?  Why don't you want me to go
swimming with Randy Ferris?" she asked him plaintively.
     "I . . .  I didn't say you couldn't go swimming with him, honey.
It's just . . . well, Randy is a lot older than you are.  He's not exactly
a boy any more . . ."  Peter Knight cleared his throat self-consciously.
     Oh, don't I know that he isn't a boy anymore!, Davie thought
triumphantly to herself.  He's a man . . . just like you are, Daddy!
     "And I'm not exactly a little girl any more, Daddy," she protested.
"You have to realize that.  I can't stand to be treated like a child.
That's just the way Mother treats me, as I told you.  I didn't think you
were going to do the same . . ."
     She had him now, and he knew it all too well.  What could he say?  He
had no choice but to give her her way and hope to God she had enough
fortitude to resist that brash, good-looking Ferris kid.  Shit!  Having a
luscious teenage daughter around was a helluva lot tougher than he
imagined.
     "OK.  OK, sweetheart.  I concede.  Just watch yourself, Davie.  Randy
is a pretty smooth operator."
     "He is . . .?" she asked, feigning surprise and disbelief.  Her hazel
eyes sparkled with the faintest glimmer of artfulness.  She placed a warm
hand on his and smiled at him sympathetically.  "Don't worry, Daddy dear .
. .  Everything's going to work out fine . . . just fine . . ."

*    *    *

     As soon as they were out of sight and racing away from
the resort, Randy reached across the stick shift and placed a warm hand on
Davie's bare thigh, giving it a knowing squeeze that caused the young girl
to jump in the bucket seat.  She looked over at him and he gave her one of
his slow, sexy smiles.  She sent him one of her own.  They both broke out
laughing then, and Randy stepped on the accelerator of the red MG and
roared down the island road in the hot sun.  Davie really did look
fantastic today; better than she had ever looked.  There was something
different about her, more mature.  She seemed to have blossomed over-
night.  If she's like this after one fast fuck, what's she going to be
like after a long, leisurely one? he wondered.  Christ!  She's going to
give Trish some tough competition!
     He drove all the way to the point at the southern end of the island
and parked the convertible in a narrow grove of trees.  Then they both got
out of the sports car and walked hand and hand onto the beach.  He was
wearing a pair of cut-off jeans over his trunks, and a white tee shirt.
Davie admired his legs as he spread an old blanket on the shimmering sand.
Her pussy began to tingle with anticipation as she thought of his virile
young cock and the fucking she knew she would get.  What was happening to
her?  She was becoming as horny as a guy!
     "Would m'lady care to be seated?" he asked, making a courtly bow and
stretching out a muscular arm towards the blanket.  Davie laughed.  "My
pleasure," she answered in a British accent, as she dropped to her knees
on the worn bed cover.  Randy sat down beside her.  He reached into his
back pocket and carefully pulled something out, holding it up for her to
see.  It was a joint of marijuana . . . Davie's eyes widened.  "Where did
you get that?" she asked naively.
     "Santa left it in my stocking.  He came by a few days early," he
joked.  Davie grinned sheepishly.  "You nut!" she told him.
     He lit up then, drawing the smoke into his lungs in quick
inhalations.  He closed his lips and wrinkled his brow as he held the
pungent smoke inside for several seconds.  He took one more toke, then
handed it to her.
     Davie hadn't smoked pot often.  She just had never gotten into it
that much.  But she wasn't about to let him know that.  So she mimicked
his style, and drew the hot smoke into her lungs.  The next moment she was
choking and coughing, her eyes watering from the harsh stinging in her
throat.  It wasn't the best grass in the world!
     Randy couldn't help laughing at her.  For a moment, she looked like a
little girl again.  It was obvious that she was embarrassed as hell.  He
took the joint from her and dragged deeply on it again.  She held out her
fingers, determined not to look like a juvenile who couldn't handle it.
Randy smiled slyly.  She was taking the bait, all right.  Not that he had
to get her stoned in order to fuck her--he had already proved that.  But
he had something else in mind; something she might be a little more
reluctant to try.  He wanted her to suck his cock!  He would be the first
guy to fuck her in the mouth, too!  And if all went as he planned it, he'd
have her asshole cherry before the day was out!
     Davie inhaled the narcotic cigarette daintily, in short puffs,
unwilling to risk another coughing fit.  She was already beginning to feel
lightheaded.  She felt floaty, as though her limbs were weightless.  She
had an unexplainable urge to giggle.  And she did.  She took a few more
short pulls on the intoxicating weed before she handed it back to Randy.
     When there was nothing left except a tiny hollow tube of paper, Randy
deposited it in his mouth, swallowed it and stood up to take off his
clothes.  She thought that was very funny.  She laughed and laughed.  She
couldn't stop laughing.  "You ate the roach!  You ate it!" she said over
and over again.
     Randy thought to himself, Yeah, baby, and you're going to eat it,
too.  And it ain't gonna be a roach!  "C'mon, doll, take off your clothes.
You haven't lived 'til you've gone skinny dippin' stoned."
     That sounded like a marvelous idea.  Without hesitation, she rose
unsteadily to her feet and started to untie her halter top.  Randy walked
slowly over to her.  "Here, I'll do that," he said.  There was something
so masterful about him.  He knew how to take charge of things, and she
obediently turned around while he untied the knot at her neck, then did
the same to the one at her waist.  The skimpy garment fen away from her
body and floated limply to the ground like a sad little flag.  She stood
there watching it, giggling at it, until she felt Randy's hands slip
around her from behind and grab her bare boobs in his masculine hands.  He
pulled her back against him and she drew in her breath sharply as her back
came in contact with his smooth, broad chest and his hands roamed over her
naked, sensitive breasts.
     "Ooooohhhhh," she moaned softly, closing her eyes to the wonderful
sensations his hands were creating in her.  The sun shone hotly on her
skin, melting her, turning her into jelly.  Her pussy became a bowl of
warm, sticky jelly.  She was aware of something hard and demanding
pressing into her buttocks, between the cheeks of her ass . . . his penis
. . . Randy's hard, sturdy penis . . .
     She was very turned on, and she leaned back even further into him,
with her arms dangling at her sides, in a shameless and wanton posture of
submission.  She was ready to make love now; she wanted it right now.  Why
didn't he fuck her now?
     Randy's hands moved down her sleek belly and found the zipper of her
shorts.  Deftly, he unzipped them and began to work them down over her
flaring hips.  Davie wriggled her ass against him to assist him with the
stopping.  She giggled again.  Her brain was dazed and her attitude
incoherent.  She could have cared less if there were an ocean liner full
of camera-clicking spectators anchored out in the sea.  In fact, she sort
of wished there were . . .
     The shorts lay puddled at her feet.  Next, Randy slipped his hands
inside her filmy panties, reaching along her bare skin until he touched
her silky crop of pubic hair.  She moaned again, breathless at his
exciting touch as he gently fingered the pad of curls and cupped her pussy
mound in one of his dampish palms.  Yessssss . . . oh, yessssss, do that!
she screamed wordlessly.  The sounds evaporated in her throat.  But her
squirming body and raspy breathing got the message across.  The wily
blonde youth smiled confidently to himself.  Snickered silently, was more
like it.
     The panties came down her hips and thighs and calves to commingle
with the shorts and halter.  She was an island in a little sea of
clothing.  She thought that funny also.
     "Let's go for a swim," Randy whispered in her pretty ear.  He
followed up the suggestion with his tongue, flicking it inside to tickle
the highly sensitive orifice.  Davie almost collapsed from the sensation.
Oh God, oh how she wanted him to fuck her now.  He was driving her insane.
All she could think of was his juicy cock plundering her steaming vaginal
depths.  How could he thank of anything else?
     "A swim?" she echoed weakly.  "Now?"
     "Yeah, right now.  I want to get it over with so l can come back up
here and eat your sweet little pussy!"
     Oh, God, did he ready mean that?  She was dazed by his lewd
suggestion, and she followed mutely as he led her by the hand down to the
edge of the water, his long, powerful cock jutting out ahead of him.  His
backside reminded her of some of the statues of Greek gods she had seen at
a museum, his muscles ripping as he walked, his physique, perfect.  Yes,
he was a statue come to life, leading her down to the glassy, azure sea.
     It was an incredible experience to swim like that--naked and stoned,
and horny.  She mostly floated, letting her glossy, long hair fan out on
the water like the tentacles of an octopus.  Suddenly she felt a rude
splash of water on her face as Randy swam up beside her and sent a
deliberate shower of sea water in her direction.  She flailed and
sputtered and began to tread water.  She splashed him back and they played
like porpoises for a while.  Then he dived down under the water, and under
her legs and grabbed her pussy with his mouth!  She screamed and fell
backwards.  Before she had a chance to gather her wits, the strong, sexy
youth appeared in front of her and pushed her head down with his hand . .
. down under the water . . . down to his loins, to his genitals!  It
lasted only a moment, then he pulled her back up again, but the moment had
served to implant a portent of things to come--of things to cum!  God, did
he really expect her to do that?  Noooooo--that was dirty, perverted.  She
couldn't possibly do that!  She wouldn't take him in her mouth, the way
she had seen her mother doing it to that disgusting fairy!
     His little "test" provided Randy with exactly the reaction he
expected.  The look of panic on Davie's face was ample witness to her
prejudice.  Moments like them were made to order for Randy Ferris; he
liked nothing better than a sexual challenge from a gorgeous female.
     "Sorry, honey.  That was an accident," he apologized convincingly.
"Want to go dry off?"  He grinned at her and paddled nearer, so that their
bodies were touching under the salty, caressing water.  Desire was the
undercurrent that carried them onto shore.
     Davie flopped heavily to the sand.  Her brain was reeling.  Fuzzy
distorted images of Randy, her father and Trish glided across the ceding
of her mind like reflections in a row of carnival mirrors.  The sun burned
bleeding white bans of liquid heat into her closed eyes as she lay
sprawled on her back.  The air was very still, except for the sound of
respiration.  There was a persistent fluttering in her belly.
     She was dimly aware of movement next to her, of the wet, bare flesh
very close to her body.  Randy was moving around on the blanket, brushing
against her body as he shifted his body.  She suddenly felt his bare hands
on her salty skin, his fingers touching her magically, lightly all over
her body.  He was stroking her skin, his fingers turned into feathers.
She turned to gooseflesh and her body began to tingle everywhere.  Her
pussy throbbed with desire.  Involuntarily, she opened her legs a little
wider, feeling the caressing heat of the sun on her naked pussy, on the
still little nubbin that was her clitoris.
     Randy shifted again on the blanket, his hands still fluttering over
her skin like an army of butterflies.  Then she felt a scant shower of
cool water on her thighs and belly.  She flinched from the sudden
sprinkling, but she was caught by the torpor that engulfed her.  So
relaxed, six lazy, so filled with delightful sensations that she couldn't
muster the energy to open her eyes.
     The sexy youth had crawled between her legs and lay on his belly, his
face inches away from her enticing coral pussy slit, where the blushing
little button of delight peeked out from between the dewy lips.  God, what
an edible little cunt she had.  This is going to be pure heaven, licking
that tasty pink furrow, he thought to himself.
     He moved nearer and without spreading her lips apart, suddenly thrust
his tongue out and flicked her clitoris.  Davie started as though she had
been touched by a hot ware.  "Uuunngghh!" she gasped, her eyes flying open
instantly.  Randy!
     The good-looking boy grinned up at her from under his sleepy, sexy
eyes.  A shock of wet, blonde hair was matted over his eyebrow.  He wagged
his tongue obscenely at her.  Then, without a word, he reached up under
her bare ass cheeks and elevated her with his hands, spreading her pussy
lips with his thumbs, exposing her ripe cunt meat to his wanton, lustful
gaze.  His rock-hard cock throbbed beneath him.  Hot damn!, he swore to
himself, I really want to eat her little pussy.  I can't wait any longer!
     And he didn't.  He sent his tongue into her pulsating furrow with
dispatch, wasting not time, but drawing the delicious flesh into his mouth
as though it were a succulent little breast.  He licked and lapped and
sucked her, running his tongue up and down and around her juicy slit,
unable to get enough of the sweetly pungent sex flesh.  He rolled around
on his cock, feeling that he could almost cum from the sheer excitement of
eating this beautiful kid's tender box.  No wonder Trish freaked out when
she sucked Davie off.  This had to be the best piece of pussy pie he had
ever eaten--every bit as tasty as Trish's.
     Davie groaned and flailed on her back, her wet hair slapping the hot,
dry blanket beneath her.  She thought she would go mad from the insane
licking; she felt she would go right out of her mind from the rapturous
excitement in her heated loins and stomach.  Ohhhh, oh Goooodddd!  She had
never been eaten like this before!  His lips, his tongue, his mouth,
working her pussy flesh like that, sucking it so beautifully, so maddenly
well.  A feeble finger of conscience admonished her for allowing the youth
to feast so wantonly on her nether parts, but she waved it away from her
mind.  No, she had to have it; she didn't want it to end ever!  She
couldn't stop him now; her body controlled her will, and her body said,
"Onward!"
     A paddle, a long, smooth, slick, broad paddle stirring in her
cauldron of molten lust, churning the sensate flesh around and around and
around and . . .
     "Uuuuuuuunnnn . . . uuuuunnn . . . UUUUWUWUNNNNNN!!!  She felt the
rumblings deep inside her body . . . rumblings which grew louder and more
violent until she was shaking like a volcanic mountain.  Coals of fire
erupted from the core of her being and rained down on her flesh, and her
nerves sizzled like cold water on a hot griddle.  Her cuntal juices turned
to liquid fire and gushed onto Randy's lips and tongue and flowed like
lava, down to her anal crevice.  Her body danced with jolts from a
thousand live wires.  She screamed out her ecstasy as she came and came
and came . . .
     Geezus christ!  This chick is one for the books!  She sure as hell
doesn't have to take a back seat to Trish, that's for damned sure!, Randy
remarked to himself as he continued to lap at the young beauty's pussy
until she finally begged him to stop.  She almost passed out from the
sensations that emanated from between her legs.  Never had she been so
thoroughly, so satisfyingly tongue fucked.
     The sun-drugged, sex-drugged, narcotized young girl lapsed into a
near-comatose state, wallowing in the delicious tingling sensations that
pervaded her body.  She was barely cognizant of Randy's movement now . . .
that he had crawled from between her legs and inched up along side of her,
his huge prick preceding him like some pagan battle standard.  His eyes
glowed with fevered anticipation and insatiable lust.  He kneeled beside
her head and leaned down to kiss her wantonly on the mouth, pressing his
tongue between her unresisting lips and deep inside her mouth.
     Davie drew in her breath at the unexpected assault on her mouth,
tasting her own pussy juices mixed with the briny essence of saltwater.
Benumbed as she was, she felt another little tremor of renewed excitement
flutter through her spent loins, and an audible sigh escaped past Randy's
engulfing lips.  Then he drew away from her, and she felt the absence of
his lips; she wanted them on her mouth again . . .
     Suddenly they were back . . . he was rubbing his mouth across her
lips . . . so soft . . . soft delicate mouth rubbing back and forth, back
and forth, but differently.  There was something different in the way it
felt . . . softer than his lips . . . softer than a baby's skin . . . so
delicately soft, but firm, too.  Why was it different this time?
     Her eyes fluttered opened then squinted against the light.  Oh God--
she was staring right at the huge, erect penis, at the blood-engorged,
glistening-tipped cock of Randy Ferris!  That's what it was that she felt
on her mouth--Randy's cock!  Oh nooooo!  Surely he didn't expect her to
put that thing into her mouth!
     Oh, but he did!  "Davie, kiss my cock, baby.  Open your lips and give
it a little kiss," he urged her.  His face was a mask of desire.
     "Nooooo!  I can't.  I can't do that," she insisted, turning her face
away and closing her eyes again.
     "Sure you can, honey.  You know you want to, deep down inside . . .
just like you really wanted me to fuck your little pussy last night.
Wouldn't you like to know what it feels like to have it in your mouth,
honey?"
     There was a tremor of excitement in his husky voice.  He leaned over
her again and pressed his instrument against her lips, while he placed his
right hand on her bare, upthrust breast and began to massage the sensitive
flesh expertly.
     "No!  Take it away from me," she protested, but there was slightly
less conviction in her voice.  The familiar stirrings of desire were back
in her body, and she found herself becoming curious.  What would it taste
like, she wondered.  Randy was such a beautiful, sexy man not like that
disgusting fruit with her mother . . .
     "Sure, baby, if that's the way you feel about it," he answered a tone
of annoyance.  He rolled over and lay flat on his back, placing his hands
behind his head.  "It's OK with you if I eat your pussy, if I stick my
tongue in your snatch and suck you unto you cum all over my mouth . . .
that's fine, isn't it?" he said contemptuously.  "But when the ball is in
your court, you don't want to play!"
     "It's not that, Randy, it's just that . . . well . . ."
     "Forget it, sweetheart.  I get the message.  We'd just skip the oral
stuff from now on--both of us.  I mean, it's too bad, a damned shame,
really--I could acquire a real taste for that sweet little cunt of yours .
. . but, it wouldn't be fair to either of us, would it?  One-way streets
always lead to resentments, don't they?"
     The clever youth made his point--in spades.  Davie felt a seizure of
panic as she considered Randy's threat he didn't intend to go down on her
again . . . not unless she "played bag" . . .
     She was wavering, torn by a desire to please this man, her first male
lover who had already given her so much pleasure.  She couldn't bear to
think of it coming to an end, or being something less than complete.  Yet,
she felt frightened and repulsed at the thought of putting his rigid
member into her mouth; she kept seeing her mother blowing that horrible
faggot.  Besides, she'd never done it before.  How do you do it?  She
didn't want to make a fool of herself.  But Randy was right, she knew:
turn about's fair play.  She sighed heavily and turned to him, letting her
arm rest on his chest.
     She snuggled closer, wanting him to put a reassuring arm around her,
but he continued to lay sprawled on his back with his arms behind his
head, his eyes closed and his face expressionless.
     She put her head on his chest.  Still no reaction.  He was mad at
her!  She looked down his body, which was elongated from her perspective.
Her drugged brain saw him as a column of flesh stretched out like a sun
bronzed Plastic Man in the comic books.  His erect cock was thrust m the
air like an angry middle finger of disdain.  Slowly she let her fingers
slide down his chest, down his belly, down to has sparse forest of crisp,
dark blonde pubic hair . . . Randy's prick bobbed in welcome to her hand.
She paused there.
     "I . . . I don't know how to do it, Randy.  I've never done it
before," she said haltingly.
     "Done what?" he asked dryly.  (He knew perfectly well what she was
talking about.  He had to suppress a self-satisfied smile.)
     "Put a man's thing into my mouth . . . kissed it."  She was grateful
that he could not see her face embarrassment was written all over it.
     "Oh, that . . ." he said nonchalantly, "just forget it, honey.
Forget I ever asked you to kiss it, or lick it, or take it in your mouth .
. ."
     "No, Randy.  I want to do it for you.  I don't want to be a one-way
street," she answered firmly, but in a lithe girl voice.  "Only you have
to tell me what to do . . ."

Chapter 11

     Peter Knight stole another long glance at his passenger as they drove
south along the narrow, two-way road in his sleek silver Porsche.  Trish
had greeted him wearing the briefest and sexiest of black bikinis and a
thin gold chain around her neck.  She was all smiles, and gave no
indication that she bore any resentment towards him for his callous
treatment of her the night before.  She looked so goddamned exciting, so
sensual, that he had torn off his own swim trunks and fucked her right
then, this time treating her like a partner and not a whore.  He felt he
couldn't get enough of her.
     Now, scanning her bikini-clad body again, he found his cock once more
straining under his trunks as his eyes roved over the generous expanse of
breast flesh that was revealed above the skimpy top, and the smooth, flat
belly, her golden thighs and long, beautiful legs.  She wanted to go to
the point, she said.  .  she had been there before . . . the beach was
secluded and the water warmest there . . .
     His thoughts weighted his right foot and the Porsche went faster,
accelerating with the increase of his desire.
     "What's the rush, lover?" she teased, giving him one of her sexy,
all-knowing looks.  She placed her hand on his sun-warmed thigh, adding
another ten miles an hour to the gauge.
     Finally, they rounded a bend where the highway narrowed into a dusty
road.  The handsome resort owner shifted down and let the Porsche slow to
a crawl to minimize the fallout created by the grooved, Michelin tires.
He suddenly jammed on the brakes when he spotted Randy's red MG parked in
a shaded turnout about 75 yards ahead.  Trish saw the little red sports
car, too.  It was there, thank God . . . just as she had planned it!
     "What the hell?" Peter said, his brow furrowed in a frown.
     "Looks like somebody beat us to it . . . to the point, that is,"
Trish sad slyly.  "What a coincidence . . ."
     A sense of dread creeped over Davie's father.  What the fuck was she
doing way out here?  Why had Randy brought her here for a swim unless . .
.  Christ, why had he allowed her to go with that kid anyway?  He should
have known better . . .
     "Oh well, we might as well go for swim with them, lover.  Then we can
find another spot of our own . . ." the scheming blonde said casually.
"It'll be fun to surprise them."
     Peter didn't answer.  His jaw was set and the frown deepened on his
forehead.  From force of habit, he grabbed the ignition keys and tucked
them into a shallow pocket inside the waistband of his trunks.  Then he
got out and walked purposefully towards the beach, leaving the cocksure
stewardess to follow in his wake.
     As he got closer and closer to the stretch of white sand, his scowl
deepened and his apprehension increased.  He was close to the clearing
now, and he peered out into the water, looking for splashing young bodies,
hoping to see his precious daughter cavorting in the crystalline ocean
with the devil-may-care young buck.  Instead, his heart sickened as he
heard sounds, grunting animal sounds on the beach.  He stopped short.  Oh
no!  God, no!, his mind screamed.  Those sounds could only mean one thing!
It was like a grisly replay of the shocking scene he had witnessed twenty
four hours ago, on another beach.  Only this time, it wasn't a female--it
was Randy Ferris.  God, what was he doing to little Davie?
     Randy Ferris wasn't doing anything to little Davie--little Davie was
doing it to him!
     A startled, disbelieving gasp burst from Peter Knight's throat as he
took a few steps further and his eyeballs ran smack into the sight of
Randy Ferris lying on his back with his arms stretched out at his sides,
getting his cock sucked royally by DARLING LITTLE DAVIE!
     He swayed on his feet, as though he had been hit by a battering ram,
and stared in utter stupefaction at the carnal sight.  He closed his eyes,
but he couldn't close out the reality of what was happening on the beach
blanket.  It was horribly, brutally real. . . Davie was sucking the
bastard's cock, and doing it with obvious enjoyment, of her own free will
. . .
     The shocked and anguished father fought to sort out his thoughts, to
collect his reason and do what a concerned parent would do in such a
situation.  He wanted to rush forward, to teat Davie away from the kid's
loins and rip his privates right out of his groin.  He wanted to kill the
sonofabitch and give Davie the beating if her life.  But he knew he
couldn't do that.  The one unassailable fact of the matter was that Davie
was sucking the kid's cock of her own free will!  That was obvious.  She
was turned on as hell, mewling over him with unintelligible slurping calls
from deep in her throat, gnawing at him like a dog with a bone, pulling on
the this casing of his long, rigid prick as though it were a lollipop; as
though she couldn't get enough of it!
     His eyes were fastened on his daughter's naked, twisting form that
glistened with sweat m the early afternoon sunlight as she worked
slavishly over the bronzed loins of Trish's kid brother.  Davie . . .
Davie, my precious little girl, what's happened to you?  Why are you
taking a man's penis In your sweet little mouth. . . your beautiful,
innocent mouth?  Oh God, you're so beautiful, darling, your face, your
body, with its baby-soft buttocks, your perfect little breasts swaying
there . . . your delicate little pussy, with its soft, soft hair . . .
     Reflexively, the tormented father took a step forward, blind panic
seizing him as the impact of his carnal desire struck him with the force
of a wrecking ball.  His cock was hard and throbbing wildly in his swim
trunks.  He was excited . . . excited by the lewd sight on the beach!  His
own daughter!  Oh God, he was sick, he'd lost control!  Noooooooo!
     The devil danced in his head, goading him to make love to his own
daughter!  Yes, his love for Davie was not platonic and paternal--it was
carnal . . . it was the sexual love of a man for a beautiful woman!  And
Davie was a woman he couldn't kid himself about that any more.  She was
the woman he wanted more than anyone in the world.  He wanted to possess
her body, to feel her mouth on his cock, to feel himself inside her tender
pussy.  He let out an agonized moan of self-reproach.  But he couldn't
help himself, now.  He couldn't!  He was past all redemption, past all
caring, as torrents of desire swept over him.
     Vaguely, for his eyes were fixed on Davie, Peter was aware that he
was not alone.  The warm body of Trish Byers pressed against his arm.
"Looks like she's enjoying it, doesn't it?" she cooed into his ear in her
honeyed voice.  "I hope you're not too upset . . ."
     "Upset!  How could I possibly be upset, watching my only daughter
suck the begeezus out of your brother's cock!"  He ground the words out at
her through a clenched jaw.
     "No Peter, you shouldn't let it throw you.  After all, Davie's not a
little girl any more.  It's time she found out what men are an about,
don't you think?  Unless, of course, you're jealous . . ."
     "Jealous?"
     "Yes, honey.  Why else would you have a big hard-on?"  she said
sultrily, reaching down to squeeze his granite-like prick and his bloated
balls.  "You want your darling little daughter ax for yourself, don't
you?" she droned on.  "But that's so selfish.  That wouldn't be fair to
Davie, would it?"
     She was playing with his cloth-encased genitals.  He didn't move.
His brain was reeling as he watched with perverse fascination the lurid
scene between his sensual daughter and the blonde vamp's brother.  Trish
droned on again as she slipped her slender fingers down inside the elastic
cloth and came in contact with his bare cock.  She used her thumb to
spread the syrupy seminal ooze an around the helmeted head, and under the
ridge, where she knew he would be most sensitive.  "I know how much you
want to be lying on that blanket right now, with Davie's soft mouth around
your big, hard prick . . sucking and sucking and sucking.  I know how much
you love to be sucked, Peter.  Remember how I sucked you off last night,
after you fucked my ass so hard?  You'd like to fuck that sweet ass of
your daughter's, too . . . wouldn't you?  Wouldn't you just love to shove
that great big hot prick of yours in her tight little asshole?  Of course
. . . you're only human, baby.  I understand that.  Yes, you'd like to
fuck your darling little girl in the ass, almost as much as you'd like to
fuck her juicy little pussy.  Oh, yes, you're dying to fuck her hot,
precious cunt, aren't you.  Look at the way she's got it stuck up in the
air, just crying for her daddy's hard cock . . ."
     A low, tortured, guttural sound purled from the lust-crazed man,
signaling to Trish that her mission was as good as accomplished.  She
slipped deftly out of her bikini and pressed her naked breasts against his
bare arm, rubbing the nipples over his hairy, muscular flesh.  Then she
began kissing him on the neck and throat with her hot, moist lips as she
hooked her thumbs inside his trunks and worked them down his hips until
they dropped on the sandy ground.  Then she took his hard prick in both
her hands and rubbed it lightly up and down, pressing her body into his
back and his solid flanks, rubbing her pussy up against has ass.  Then she
began to nudge him forward, toward the blanket where his beloved Davie
sucked voraciously on Randy's cock, saying: "Go on, Peter . . . go fuck
your beautiful daughter . . . you know you want to, you know you want her.
Everybody wants to fuck darling little Davie . . ."

Chapter 12

     Young Davie Knight was thoroughly caught up in the sucking of Randy's
cock.  Her eyes were cloud and her head bobbed up and down furiously as
she reveled in the taste and feel of her handsome lover's throbbing
member.  Her energetic sucking of the pistoning prick in her mouth and the
guttural barks that came from her lovely throat all testified to that.  I
like it, I love it . . . ooohhhh, his big, beautiful penis feels so
wonderful in my mouth, I never thought anything this wicked could feel so
good . . .  I'm just like Trish now, a sensual woman . . .  I'm really a
real woman now . . . ooohhh . . .
     Randy thrust his hands in her hair and flexed his hips upward
battering the back of her throat with his cock as he strained for
completion.  Davie made no move to pull back from the intense pressure,
but ovalled her tender lips even tighter around his penis, impatient to
feel the white, creamy load of sperm in her aching young throat.  She
mewled and moaned like a depraved animal, totally abandoned to the lust
that engulfed her like a naming shroud.  Her pussy was quivering with her
wet, cuntal ooze and she wagged her buttocks in the air like a female cat
in heat, as she crouched over the prostrate youth.
     Randy was moaning in excited cadence now, staring down at the dark
haired beauty who was slavishly working his cock with her lips.  He could
see her taut, firm breasts sway and dance from her chest as she posted on
his prick with her mouth.  The pressure of his captive cum constricted his
testicles painfully, the twin blocks of desire slapping rudely against her
chin as though to say, "Hurry up!"
     Davie began to nibble the petal-soft casing of his blood-engorged
cock as though it were a delicacy, a treat.  She wanted all of it in her
mouth, wanted to make him cum, wanted to taste his hot seed.
     Dimly, through his impassioned lust, Randy became aware of vibrations
on the beach . . . coming closer . . . and closer.  Then, his face going
pale with horror, he was looking at the solid figure of Peter Knight, who
was less than five feet away!  Trish was right behind him--sonofabitch, if
she didn't do it after all; she brought Davie's old man here, just like
she said she would, and he's naked as a jaybird with the biggest goddamned
hard-on I've ever seen!  Oh man, don't fail me now, Trish!  You got here
two minutes too soon!
     But Randy's fears were needless; Peter Knight looked right past him,
as though he didn't exist.  He saw only his daughter, say only her
beautiful sweat-sheered body, her firm, full breasts, her quivering,
upturned buttocks.  He stumbled over to her and kneeled beside her,
touching her on the shoulder with his big hand.  "Davie, Davie . . ." he
called to her in a quavering voice.
     The familiar, authoritarian voice cut through the fog of her passion
like a knife.  She opened her eyes and loosened her oral hold on Randy's
cock, turning in the direction of the voice.  Oh, God . . . noooooo!  Her
daddy was right here, watching her blow Randy Ferris!  He was as naked as
she was!
     The young girl gaped at her father, her face wet with saliva.  It was
only a dream, an hallucination--that grass was stronger than she realized-
-but no, it wasn't; Daddy was right there in the flesh!  Her eyes fastened
on the huge, erect penis of the man who had sired her.  She agonized
inwardly, Oh nooo, Daddy!  I don't want you to see me like this!  Why are
you here, Daddy?  Why are you naked?  Oh God, what's happening? . . .
     Their eyes locked, and in that moment the world seemed to dissolve
around father and daughter.  A mute message passed between them, a bond of
love so powerful that it demanded immediate consummation in the strictest
physical sense.  It was a deeper love, a greater love than that between a
man and a woman, because it also contained the highest essence of
spiritual and paternal love, and both Davie and her father realized it in
that moment; realized that they belonged to each other in every way.
     Peter held his hand out to his daughter and she placed her small hand
in his, and he squeezed it as he smiled at her tenderly and whispered, "I
want to fuck you, Davie.  I want to love you, to give myself to you, the
right way.  I want to be deep inside you . . ."
     "Oooooohhhhhh, yes, Daddy, yeeeeeesss!" Davie hissed passionately.
She crawled over Randy's legs and lay down on her back parallel with the
frustrated youth.  Then her loving father lay down on top of her, placing
his weight on his elbows, and kissed her passionately on the mouth, for
the first time as a lover.  Their tongues curled around one another's and
he stroked her nude softness as she twisted and undulated under him.  He
caressed her soft, fevered breasts, kneading her unblemished young flesh,
her delicate nipples, until she mewled with pleasure into his mouth.  Then
his hand was moving down, down over her flat stomach, through the wispy
pelt of her pubic hair, finally touching the erect, pulsing shaft of her
clitoris.  Davie whimpered in unrestrained pleasure as her father massaged
the tiny, trembling bud between his thumb and forefinger, her loins
beginning to grind down into the blanket in wild, uncontrolled
counterpoint to her father's lewd fingering.
     Now Davie reached down between their bodies and located her daddy's
prick, drawing the satiny skin over the bulbous head, running her feverish
fingers over every centimeter of him, then cupping his massive bans in her
palm and squeezing them against one another very gently.  The teenager was
completely lost now in the consuming passion generated by the fondling of
each other's genitals.
     She breathed into her father's mouth, crying, "Daddy, do it to me
now!  Oh please, Daddy, do it to me now!"
     "Yes!  Yes, darling.  Guide it with your hand, sweetheart.  Put it
inside you; put it inside your sweet little pussy, where it belongs . . ."
     Davie spread her legs and thighs wide apart as her fingers dug into
the moist, sleek surface of her father's penis.  And then she was guiding
it toward the small, moist opening of her vagina, using the bulbous head
to part the soft pubic down and the pouting, fleshy lips of her sweet,
tender cunt.
     Trish, who was straddling her prostrate brother, was doing the same
thing with her hand: guiding her brother's yearning prick deep inside her
pussy as she sat on top of him, leaning into his hands with her
magnificent breasts.  She caught Davie's eye, and gave her a knowing grin.
The flushed teenager grinned back at her--woman-to-woman.
     Davie gasped aloud at the sudden electrifying contact of her loving
daddy's hard organ against her damp, sensitive flesh.  Knight flicked his
hips lightly forward, not wanting to hurt, wanting only to delight his
daughter, and the young girl felt a sharp little pain from the stretching
pressure of his huge member at the tight entrance of her almost virginal
orifice.
     "Aaaaaahhhhhh!" she cried with mixed pain and pleasure.
     "Aaaaaaoooooog!" Trish squealed with delight as brother's cock
slipped into her.
     Knight pushed forward again, forcing his way into the tightly
clenched opening and racing along the lubricated passage and into her
belly until his heavy, sperm-bloated balls smacked solidly against the
upturned cheeks of her baby-soft buttocks.
     "Oooooohhhhhh, Daaaaaadddyyy, Daaaaadddyyyyyy!" she wailed as he
flexed his cock deep inside the tight flesh of her vaginal sheath.
     He was inside her, he was fucking his own daughter's hotly sucking
pussy flesh!  God, she felt like velvet . . .  He had never known such
rapture.  He knew his little girl loved every inch of his massive prick
that was buried in her warm, wet pussy; that she loved her father deeper
and truer than any woman had ever loved him.
     He began a slow, revolving motion with his pelvis, grinding his cock
tightly into his daughter's naked crotch, expanding the walls of her young
pussy even more, and her own buttocks were rotating even more insanely,
demanding harder thrusts from her father's churning loins.  He rocked
above her, using short, smooth strokes, and her body reacted in kind,
chills of excitement and rapture spiraling the full length of her spine as
she felt the tempo of his heavy, burgeoning cock in her throbbing cuntal
canal.
     Next to them on the blanket, the sultry blonde and her sexy kid
brother were rutting like dogs, both of them lost in the lust that sent
them bucking back and forth against each other's loins.
     Quickly, the loving father increased his pace and the length of his
stroke, knowing he couldn't last much longer, feeling the volcano that was
his balls about to erupt.  His daughter proved to be more of a match than
he had expected.  She raised her wide-spread loins up to him in
simultaneous rhythm to his every downward thrust as her passion-contorted
young face twisted wantonly with her need and desire.
     Davie began to toss her head in frenzied, abandoned ecstasy as she
lay impaled on her father's rock-hard shaft, and rapturous little moans
bubbled past her lips.  Her father's mouth was fastened to hers again, and
she sucked once more at his tongue, trying to milk it like her hotly
devouring little pussy was milking his deeply pistoning cock--the brother-
sister team was approaching climax.
     Peter Knight increased his pace even more, deepening his thrusts as
his beautiful, sexy young daughter writhed wildly beneath him, grinding
her pussy up and down on his cock with incredible fury, her legs
twitching, her toes curling as she lurched upwards, spreading her slender
legs even wider apart and wrapping them around his broad back.  He knew
she was getting close and he wanted to cum with her, to feel their juices
commingling in the ultimate expression of fulfilling love.
     Suddenly, they both heard Randy's gasping admission: "I'm . . . I'm
cuuuuummmmminnmmgig!"
     "Yeeeeeesss . . . Ohhhhhh, cuuuuummmmm baaaaaabbbyyy.  Fill
meeeeeeeee," Trish answered, bouncing for all she was worth on his
jettisoning cock, her blonde hair whipping across her face as she bucked
and flailed her head wildly.
     That did it.
     Peter Knight ground his cock into the tender sanctuary of his
daughter's womb and she convulsed beneath him, her mouth opening wide, her
face a caricature of her normally soft and innocent young loveliness.  A
cry of pure,      unadulterated delight, of total rapture, echoed from the
very core of her young being.
     "AAAAAGGCGGGHHHHH . . . D AAAAA DDDDD YYYYY!"
     Peter Knight felt his daughter's pussy walls begin to secrete their
warm gushes of wet, sticky fluid around his plundering cock, inundating
his shaft.  She was cumming, cumming beautifully, his little girl was
cumming with his cock deep in her belly!  With renewed urgency, he thrust
faster, deeper, with all the strength he possessed.  He had to cum with
her, he had to!
     Suddenly he knew that his own hot sperm was about to race through his
cock to fill his daughter's womb.  She jerked wildly, spasming, the mouth
of her cunt sucking at him feverishly.  And then his orgasm struck fully
and his balls erupted burning fire, causing his body to tremble like a man
with palsy.  His juices spurted from the opening in his prickhead deep,
deep into his daughter's quivering recesses in never-ending flow, which
caused her to moan in spasmodic, indecipherable cries of delight as his
orgasmic fluids mixed with hers to roll around his jerking cock, fusing
them together as lovers in the most ecstatic sense of the word--father and
daughter cumming together in the most wonderful expression of family unity
imaginable!
     A long time later--an eternity later--the torrent ended and Davie's
body relaxed, her legs falling limp around her daddy's thighs as he
collapsed onto her.  They lay there like that, not moving, not caring that
there were two people lying less than a foot away from them on the
blanket.
     "Congratulations!" came the sultry voice of Trish Byers.  Both Peter
Knight and his daughter looked over at her simultaneously.  She was
smiling victoriously.  Randy had a shit-eating grin on his face as he
glanced quickly from Davie's father to the well-fucked young beauty under
him.  Davie flushed crimson with embarrassment at first, then she giggled
nervously.  Soon all four of them were chuckling over the crazy
circumstances in which they found themselves; circumstances that had
spiraled rapidly from the innocent encounters of less than forty eight
hours ago--well, not exactly innocent, not from Trish Byer's point of
view.  But certainly, accidental--her meeting young Davie on the plane.
She congratulated herself on another sexual mission accomplished--almost.
There was still one more phase to see through, one she desperately wanted
to succeed . . .
     It ad hinged on Davie.  If the scheming blonde could make the
teenager see the "wisdom" of her plan, little Davie would certainly be
able to convince her doting daddy.  Trish had less than 24 hours--she had
to be back in Nassau for an 8:00 AM flight Monday morning, which meant
getting the shuttle hop tomorrow afternoon at four.  She had to get Davie
alone . . .

Chapter 13

     " . . . But remember, Davie, you've got to make your father think it
was all your idea--promise?  I want you to get ad the credit, honey,"
Trish admonished the pretty young girl over the dining table.  It was
Saturday night, and the spacious room was crowded.  Peter Knight was busy.
     "I promise!" the lovely teen answered, her large hazel eyes aglow
with excitement.  "Oh Trish, you're a genius--and a terrific friend!  I
just hope Daddy will go for it.
     "Sweetie, your father's so knocked out about you, he'd go for
anything you asked.  He'd walk on glass for you!" the crafty blonde said,
smiling warmly.  "And why shouldn't he go for it?  It's the perfect
solution to the problem; a way for you and your daddy to be together
forever, with no hassles from your mother.  It's the way we can an have
our cake and eat it, to! . . ."

*    *    *

     They lay there together, he with his spent cock still imbedded into
her tightly clasping orifice, overflowing with love for each other, love
which seeped past his now-flaccid tube onto the rumpled bedsheet.  He
kissed her deeply again.  "I love you so much, darling," he said tenderly
to you.
     "Oh Daddy, I love you so much too!" she affirmed again.  "And I want
to be with you forever, Daddy.  I never want to go back to New York . . ."
     There was a look of pain in his eyes.  Then he hugged her tightly to
him.  "I know, my dearest.  I don't want you to go back.  I couldn't bear
to lose you again.  It's just that . . . well, I haven't figured out a way
to keep you here after the holidays.  I've racked my brain, and everything
I come up with is N.G."
     "Daddy . . ."  she began softly, "I thought of something.  It's kind
of extreme, but I think it could work . . ."
     He raised his head and looked directly at her, his eyebrows raised in
expectation.  "Tell me!"
     "Well, I was thinking that if you . . . if you got married again . .
."
     "Married!  Honey, I don't want a wife, I want you!  Besides, that
would ruin everything for us Davie."  The handsome man's expression now
was one of bewilderment, hurt.
     "No it wouldn't, Daddy, not if you married someone like Trish . . ."
     "Trish?  But . . ."
     "See, Trish doesn't want to get married either, because of Randy.
But it would be different if she married you, because we've already made
love with them anyway, and I know you do like it in bed with her and . .
."
     "And you like it in bed with Randy, don't you?"
     "Not as much as with you, Daddy--no way.  But if you married Trish,
everything would be respectable, and nobody would guess anything about us,
and we'd be able to be together, and . . ."
     He closed her lips with a kiss.  "You're one for the books, honey!
That's the wildest scheme I've ever heard!  There's only small problem--
two, actually.  First, I'm not in love with Trish, I'm in love with you.
Second, Trish isn't in love with me.  What makes you think she would go
for it?  Oh, there's another small problem, too.  What do we do about your
school?"
     "OK," she said excitedly, "in answer to your first question, sir, you
don't have to be in love with Trish, you just have to be in lust with her-
-and don't tell me you're not!" she said, her eyes twinkling devilishly.
And you know Trish is in lust with you, Daddy . . ."
     "That dame's in lust with everybody!" he interjected.
     "No, not everybody.  Mainly, you and Randy.  Now, as far is school is
concerned, Trish says there's a good one in Nassau, the English school.  I
could go there for the rest of the year and after that . . ."
     "Wait a minute--did you and Trish cook this up together?" he asked
suspiciously.
     "Well, no . . .  I was just telling her how much I wanted to stay,
but I knew I had to go back to school, and she said if I wanted to stay
with you I could go to the one in Nassau and stay with her during the
week, and be with you on the weekends.  You could afford that, couldn't
you, Daddy?"
     "Sure.  That's no problem.  I could even hop over there during the
week . . .
     "Oh could you, Daddy, would you?  Oh, that would be wonderful.  Then
it's OK?  Ooohhh, Daaaaaadddyyy!" she squealed gleefully, throwing her
naked arms around his neck and squeezing her firm breasts against his
hairy chest.  She kissed him hard on the lips, her pointed pink tongue
snaking into his mouth to lave his oral member and suck it the way she had
sucked his cock later on the beach that afternoon, with Trish and Randy
doing some heated sixty-nine right next to them.
     Peter Knight felt his penis stir to instant life again inside his
daughter's velvety young pussy.  She squeezed her vaginal muscles around
his burgeoning prick, encouraging him once more to show his deep love for
her.  Wriggling her lithe young body enticingly beneath him, she looked up
at her father with the most innocent, the most guileless sort of
expression; one he found totally irresistible.  "It is OK, isn't it Daddy?
Please say you'll ask Trish to marry you and that you'll put me in the
English school, so that I can stay with you forever.  Please, oh please."
He flexed his fully hardened cock inside her delicate cunt, reveling in
the warm, buttery, tightly clenching softness of her.  Then he smiled at
her again.  "You know something, young lady?  If I didn't know you better,
I'd say you've picked up a few tricks from your stepmother-to-be already!"

Postscript

     The wedding took place on December 31st, in a quaint, little church
in Nassau, with Davie as Maid of Honor and Randy as Best Man.  After the
ceremony, Randy put his arms around the radiant bride and bridegroom's
shoulders and quipped, "Isn't it great, now we're gonna be just one, big,
happy fucking family!"
     And they were--one big, happy, fucking family . . . with darling
little Davie the center of it all!

The End
