Chapter 4

"But you're awfully good, you know." She was sitting close to me as she tossed blades of grass toward the swimming pool.

"I know, but you're not supposed to know," I snapped, trying to move away, but the little iron bench didn't provide for any expansion. "So let's forget the whole thing happened and straighten up. You're the daughter and I'm the father and that's how it's going to be. If your mother..."

Cherry rested her hand lightly on my thigh, not really moving in but merely being family-friendly. "Bosh. The Greeks did it all the time."

"Did what?"

"Incest. And God knows everybody else in the animal kingdom thinks it's perfectly all right."

I wrinkled my nose at her. "They're teaching you high-school seniors more than how to make beds and how to heat up a can of tomato soup. When I was in high school incest was a word written in the boys' can and if the Greeks were doing anything bad the ancient-history teacher kept it quiet."

Cherry giggled, still half-child and half-woman. I had found out which half was woman. "The Greeks had another custom, that was fun. In fact, I guess they're still at it. You know, when they want to screw but they don't want to knock up the girl."

I sighed. "Come on, let's go heat up dinner. Your mother said something about a casserole in the refrigerator."

Cherry got up and she pulled me to my feet. We walked into the house together and she had her arm around my waist, the hand dipping so that she could pat me on the ass. I glared at her, but she only laughed and I just couldn't glare any harder. My heart wasn't in it. She looked so goddamned good in her T-shirt and tight jeans that looked like she'd been poured into them. They'd belonged to John Junior until they'd shrunk tightly enough to cup Cherry's bottom. And she wasn't wearing anything under the T-shirt so that her dandy knockers bobbed freely inside, like a playful sack of kittens eager to leap out onto the rug.

"Oh, daughter," I groaned out loud. "What's the matter?" she asked, frowning as we went into the kitchen. "You're what's the matter."

"So now I'm a problem. I hope I continue to be a problem."

"Get the goddamned casserole out," I snapped as I fell into a chair at the table. She laughed and leaned over me, sounding and moving with the wisdom of an adult female, no trace of the seventeen-year-old anywhere in her body. She turned my face up and kissed me on the mouth and if I really were forty years old I didn't feel like it. She was a girl and I was a guy. I could have been a twenty-year-old soldier on leave, down at the University of Missouri making out with a coed.

Her lips were firm and asking me a lot of question as they moved around on my mouth. I didn't have any answers that I could live with, but I sure as hell knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to stay home with my daughter forever and screw her daily, twice on Sundays.

"Cherry, knock it off," I muttered around her darting tongue.

"Come on, Dad," she muttered right back. "You know we're just getting started. I want some more and, if you're the man I think you are, so do you."

"No. It's wrong and your mother might..."

"You said she was having dinner with Grandma She'll be out almost until bedtime. Speaking of bedtime..."

"There's your brother."

"John? Why worry about him? He's more horny than anybody else in the family. If he came in he'd just cheer us on. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd join in."

I leaned my head back to get her mouth off me. "Come on, girl, John's a fifteen-year-old kid. He hasn't..."

. "Like hell he hasn't," Cherry replied, lifting m hand and placing it on her left breast. "Try squeezing a quart out of that before dinner, Daddy." "Explain yourself." I didn't take my hand away.

Christ but she was heavy and warm through that T-shirt. I could feel the nipple harden as I scissored it through the thin cotton.

"He jacks off in the bathroom every afternoon after school and that's just for starters. I think my kid brother is a supercharged mink who doesn't know where to put it all. He's too young to be fucking, but I think his hose is always squirting into something--like a bottle, the toilet or his fist."

I sighed and moved my hand around on her knocker. I've always been a tit man, that was one reason I married Peggy. She had the best set I'd ever had my hands on and when she wouldn't let me go any further than her boobs ... well, I had to marry her to find out about the rest of the package. I've never regretted it because she had-and has-it all. And, until I ran into my ever-loving daughter in the kitchen with Norman, I'd never really messed with any other women.

Now along comes a second generation Peggy and I can't pass up the chance to start all over again. They say that's the reason guys of forty suddenly start to fool around with women half their age. They're getting old and they want a chance to do it all over again before it's too late. But, Jesus, the way I feel I'll still be knocking off three pieces a week when I'm drawing Social Security.

"Dad?"

"Huh?"

"You're away off somewhere."

"Not really."

She was kissing me again and as her breast sank into my fingers her hip slid around against my thigh, could picture those clinging jeans and I had a powerful temptation to pull them over her hips and stare into that blond nest again. I went to her other tit and it puffed itself up and hardened its nipple like its twin. Cherry was primed and ready.

She took a deep breath and straightened, looming over me with her pointed twin turrets. Then she took my hands and lifted me. She backed across the kitchen, pulling me with her until the edge of the drainboard caught her low on the hips. She just missed the casserole she'd taken from the refrigerator

Casually, she draped her arms around my neck as she leaned back against the edge of the counter. Just like she had been with Norman, she was ready and waiting, her hips thrust forward as her shoulders were back.

I looked down at her fly and the damned thing was bulging as though she had a hard-on in there. It was that the jeans were so tight the fly buttons were stretched to their limit just-by her blond purse and its thick cushion of hairs. That fly was begging me to swat it and break it into a million pieces.

I looked into Cherry's face. "Daughter, I think I'd better just run upstairs and take a cold bath. You'd be wise to try the same thing."

"No way, pop. I've got something coming and nobody eats until I get it. You're my newest natural resource discovery and I want to exploit you before the ecologists catch on and start rationing you." She kissed me on the mouth again and her breasts pressed against my chest. She didn't need to argue any more but I had to fight it.

"No. It's wrong. This can get to be a habit."

"If this be a habit then make the most of it. We've got to be well hung together or well be hung separately."

I sighed and wrapped my arms around her waist. Not even thinking, I allowed my hands to drop to her ass and her firm cheeks fit my palms perfectly. I was lifting her to her toes and her tight box was working over my fly. I was like a stone inside there and she giggled as she felt the hard-on.

"See? You're still as young as you feel," she laughed. "My father, the super lover."

"No." I snapped my hands away and pushed her back. "Get cracking with that casserole, Cherry, or I'm leaving the house. We've got to cut this out."

Cherry stuck out her lower Hp in a pretty pout as she came toward me again, but I fended her off. God knew I didn't want to. I pointed at the casserole and, with a trembling sigh, she stuck it into the oven.

She was looking over her shoulder at me as I looked at that tight little ass. "I'm cooking inside, pop. I've got to have something. You worked me up and now you're pulling out. It just isn't fair."

"Whatever you get," I snapped, "you're not going to get it from me."

We heard the front door slam and it was a familiar sound. Only one person slammed it that way. Cherry was smiling at me as she moistened her lips.

"Okay, hard nose, so I know where I'll get my servicing for today. My second servicing, that is." She glanced toward the kitchen door that led into the front of the house.

"No," I muttered. "Christ, Cherry, he's only a kid. Only fifteen."

She giggled as she shook her golden head with its yard of ironed hair. "I told you about him, Dad. Only a kid, my sweet ass." Then she pumped her fist in front of her beautiful fly, like a kid jacking off. "Believe me, every afternoon in the bathroom. But he's late today. He'll probably run straight upstairs to take care of himself."

I groaned as she went to the door and called, "John. In the kitchen. Dinner's waiting."

It sounded like he was already in the stairs. "Give me a minute."

"No. It's hot and waiting for you? Dad's here, too, and he wants you to come and get it" She grinned over her shoulder at me. "Come on, I've got something in the oven for you. It can't keep."

I groaned again as she turned up the oven and a second later John appeared in the doorway. He's a gangly kid, as most fifteen-year-olds are. He's already pushing six feet and by the time he's through growing he'll probably be a basketball center. He only weighs about a hundred and forty and he's got a little acne, but no problem like that Norman kid whose face looks like a war map of Europe. It's been a while since he's let me catch him with his pants down, but I know he's hung like something in a pasture. In fact, he looks a lot like me before I grew up. I've got more chest and a heavier beard.

"Hi, brother," Cherry was gushing to him, switching on a bright smile.

Cherry and John Junior are like most brothers and sisters. They're usually at each other's throats. Lately he's had the red ass because Cherry's pushing for a car of her own and he'll need to wait a couple of more years. So I wasn't surprised when he gave he a suspicious look.

"What's going on?"

I was back at the table, sitting down, trying to get my cock to sit down, too. "You're mother's having dinner with grandma," I said. "There's just the three of us and Cherry's tonight's cook."

He stuck out his tongue. "Probably poison everybody."

Cherry made a face at him, but it was a sweet face. "Wash your hands and sit down, dear brother. The chicken and rice are hot and the cook is ready." She winked at me, but he couldn't see.

"Uh...I'll wash upstairs. Just take a minute."

I looked at his crotch. By God, the little fart did have his bone up. Cherry must have been right. He had to tap himself every day so he wouldn't explode. Probably starched the sheets at night, too. I'd have to ask Peggy if she ever noticed.

"You'll wash here and make it snappy, right, Dad?"

Cherry was serving at the stove, looking over her shoulder at me. "Tell him it's all ready for him. Tell him the cook guarantees satisfaction."

"Wash and sit," I directed, pointing at the sink.

John stuck his hands under the tap and frowned at his sister. "What's all the funny business going on? How come you're talking funny?"

Cherry was breathing deeply and I could tell she was having a difficult time. She was really hot and the doubletalk was only making her hotter. She was struggling to keep her banter light. A plucky lad.

"We told you. Tonight I'm the mommy and the cook. So sit down across from Dad."

He squinted. "I think I'd rather sit next to Dad."

Cherry sighed and looked at me. "Father?"

"Do as your big sister ... uh, the cook, says," I ordered.

He sat down across from me, by the window where he looked out at the gathering night. It was easy summer and the days were long. A minute later Cherry was placing loaded plates before us, milk for John and herself and coffee for me. I'd let her get away without a salad, but neither she nor I were really interested in food anyhow,

We were all seated and John was shoveling it in. "Don't eat so fast," Cherry said to him, but her voice was sweet. He stared at her, suspicion in his eyes.

"You're still talking funny. Usually you don't have anything to say to me at all?'

"All right, so Mommy won't talk so much." She put some chicken and rice into her mouth and watched me as she chewed. Jesus, she even chewed her food in an erotic way. I wanted to kiss the grease on her mouth.

Her left hand was out of sight, but I soon got a pretty good idea where it was. John lurched is though something had bitten him on the ass. I stopped eating.

"What's the matter with you?"

He cleared his throat and, flushed, looked from his sister to me. "Uh, nothing. Just a cramp, I guess."

He tried to continue eating, but he slowed down quite a bit. I know I should have stopped it, but I didn't think it would do any good. Cherry had to have her servicing and so did John. If I broke them up, Cherry would run out to some boy - friend and John would be up coating the bathroom mirror with come. So I sat and I watched, the impartial observer. I'll admit I was plenty hot myself and a little voyeurism didn't seem out of line.

John flinched again, but not as much as the first time. Cherry kept on eating, her eyes modestly down on her plate. But that left hand was busy somewhere and John was shifting around in his seat. He finally glared at his sister. "Cut it out."

Cherry smiled at him. I just want you to eat your food. Don't worry about Dad. He's eating, too. You don't care how much John eats, just so he eats, do you, Daddy?"

I shook my head. "No. Eat nice. Don't fight."

"Hear that? No fighting," she repeated.

John gulped a couple of times and looked at his plate. Then he was squirming again and I wondered where her hand was. On his thigh, on his crotch, fondling his pouch? I was getting hotter thinking about it. And I kept thinking: better than him jacking off, better than him jacking off....

Then I heard a hiss and it wasn't a snake. It was a zipper, a fly zipper. John's eyes were bugging and he almost dropped his fork.

Cherry was still eating, eyes downcast, smiling like the Madonna in person.