Chapter 2

He couldn't get his mind off his cock. They perched on stools in the small bar and chatted with other hotel guests, and Max even downed a couple of straight tequilas. But it didn't help, nothing helped. He was achingly, endlessly horny. With the ease of long experience, he and Helen separated and became involved in conversation with different groups. The attraction for him, he realized helplessly, was a little Mexican-American girl named Rosalia. Too Young, the sensible part of his mind warned him. But her spare little figure and perky tits excited him tremendously.

The tequila-and what was wrong with one more?-made everything clear to him. The reason, the only reason, he'd been willing to give up the sex swap parties with their friends was his increasing boredom with the very over-abundance of female flesh. He'd begun to see past the big voluptuous breasts and rounded hips and drowningly huge cunts, to the extra rolls of fat and the wrinkles beginning on necks and bellies. Superprick, his wife called him, and Paul was even bigger in that department. But he sometimes wondered about the other husbands, more normally built. Didn't they get tired of mature vaginas once in a while?

Rosalia couldn't be more than sixteen, but the Mexicans were permissive about teenage drinkers-or even younger. Maybe they kept their own kids in control, but they didn't give a damn what the tourists did as long as they paid for it. Her parents had gone to bed; and she demurely accepted his offers of rum and coke, and didn't pull back when he drunkenly rubbed up against her.

"You're young enough to be my daughter," he leered at her.

"But I'm not your daughter," she returned provocatively.

Damn right, he wouldn't let Sally sit in a bar and be mauled by old sots like himself! He peered into the neckline of her loose blouse and was rewarded with a glimpse of the rise of her satiny tan breasts, widely separated, hanging like young but ripe fruit. She shrugged somehow, and her rosy little tits came into view. Goddamn, this kid was asking for it! Her nipples peaked and pushed against her blouse. No bra, of course.

"Older men are so - interesting," Rosalia murmured.

He put his hand on her knee, and somehow her skirt twitched upward just in time so he was fondling warm firm flesh instead of fabric. Shivers ran down his spine. This beautiful little girl really was going for him in a big way! He pulled his shoulders back and sucked his belly in. Forty years old, and he could still attract a pretty girl! Helen had remarked only yesterday that the streak of gray in his hair made him look distinguished, and since the child was so short, she couldn't see the place on top where the hair was thinning.

"Little girls are interesting, too," he said playfully. He shot a quick glance around; was he getting in trouble? But nobody seemed to pay the slightest attention. There was a lot of drinking and laughter and conversation. The tourists were comparing mileage driven that day, and complaining about the high price of gas, and the fact that the hotel rooms had no keys. Helen-he grinned to see it-was deep in conversation with a kid who looked about eighteen. Maybe she was on the same kick he was on!

Rosalia had surveyed the crowd too, and felt safe. She put her slim brown hand on his thigh, not his knee, his thigh! And when she squeezed it hotly, his cock stood up and saluted. He watched her watching the bulge in his pants, and licked his lips. She had a little smile on her face; it was obvious she knew what it was all about, and for once he didn't have to shuffle around to hide his hard-on.

Then she threw her head back, the black shiny hair bouncing, and drained her glass. "May I have another one, please?"

Max managed to force out the words to the bartender through a dry throat. The heat from her hand radiated throughout his body, and his huge prick stirred and pushed painfully against his fly. This was something like it! Even one night with a little darling like this should more than compensate for the lost swap parties. And he didn't think Helen would object, the way she almost drooled on the youngster she was talking to.

He caught snatches of her conversation as he lifted the shot glass. "... so you're Basque, how interesting," she cooed. And when the kid answered with a strong Mexican accent, he got the picture. He'd read in a guidebook that there were a lot of French and their descendants here.

The fiery liquid hit the back of his throat, and he gulped. He knew tequila was dynamite, but shit, he didn't have to drive any more that day, and it sure as hell wasn't affecting his potency! He turned back to Rosalia and discovered her fingers had inched upward, so they rubbed against the concealed yet obvious cockhead.

"You'd better be careful," he said thickly. "You don't want to tease a man like that. Not unless you mean it."

"But maybe I mean it." Her smile was the most alluring thing he'd seen in his whole life. Her pointed red tongue shot out and licked her soft lips.

"So do I," he whispered huskily.

"What you like?" she said softly. "Like to fuck, suck? Want Rosalia to take you around the world? You don't have to do anything, I do it all. Give you the best time you ever had."

He was stunned. His mind accepted her words and computed them, but his hungry cock wouldn't listen to reason. It swelled even more until he could barely manage to sit on the stool. But just the same, he had enough sense left to know the truth. He had to prove it, though. "How much?" he managed to say. She shrugged. "Depends on what you want. Not too much, for what you're getting. And a handsome man like you ..." She put her hand boldly right on top of his swollen cock, and he almost leaped through the ceiling.

"Goddamn it! How old are you, Rosalia?"

"What difference does it make?" She squeezed again, and his spine turned into a puddle of hot melted jelly. "If you want to know, you like little girls, right? Well, I'm fifteen."

He groaned. His hard-on died painfully, leaving a terrible ache in his groin. No way was he going to make it with a child prostitute! He was tempted, sure, he might never have a chance like this again. The thought of her immature pussy was like a stab wound to his gut. He could see it, feel it, almost taste it. But he knew with dismal certainty that he'd worry too much to enjoy it. A fifteen-year-old hooker-what might she not have? He remembered reading about kids in Hollywood, and other places, too, who'd do it for the price of a meal. But they all had venereal diseases, the statistics were frightening. His rational mind, what was left of it, told him he'd never have the guts to go through with it. Think how long he'd be cut off from any sex if he got VD! That alone was enough to cool him.

With a heartfelt groan, he lifted her hand from the place where his huge erection used to be. "Have another drink, kid," he said. "Or go find another john, if you want. Yeah, that's better, go peddle it someplace else. That's all she wrote, for me." He sighed heavily. "Give me a double, Pedro. Something to make me sleep."

Rosalia looked as if she might argue, and he turned his back on her. He heard her slip down from the stool, and get lost in the crowd. Goddamn, I hate myself, he thought. He tipped back the drink, funny how it hardly burned by this time, and followed it up with lemon and salt. He never could remember the order you were supposed to do it in, but what the shit. It all went to the same place.

Lost in self-pity, Max stumbled out the door. No use to spoil Helen's good time, if the kid wanted to tumble her, let him. He made his way through the jungle by moonlight, heading without thought for the outside door and the camper. He needed to be alone.

He'd gotten the rear door unlocked when a cold little hand slipped into his. His treacherous cock lurched even as he recognized his daughter through the drunken haze. The dear little girl, she'd come to comfort her daddy. If only Rosalia had been as pure and sweet as Sally!

"Hop inside, honey, you'll get a chill." He gave her a hand up the step. "What's the matter, couldn't sleep?"

"No. And Tim was snoring up a storm. I was just wandering around, Daddy, and I saw you and ... you looked so sad!" She was shivering in the night air. She wore thin pajamas and a robe, and her feet were bare. "Oooo, let me snuggle up, Daddy! You're so nice and warm!"

He sat on a bunk and lifted her into his lap. He could feel her shake with cold and wrapped his arms around her slim body. She smelled nice, like good soap and water, and for the first time he recollected Rosalia's heavy, musky perfume. It should have given him a clue-lots of things should have clued him in sooner. He just hadn't wanted to know. His hand slid under Sally's robe and tightened on her thin waist.

"What were you so blue about, Daddy?" She tilted her head back and looked at him. "Don't tell me, I mean you never would tell me, would you? You think I'm just a baby!"

"What are you talking about, Missy?" He used the baby name which she claimed she'd outgrown, afraid her friends would figure out it stood for Miss Mischief. But now she didn't seem to mind, because she planted a soft little kiss on his lips.

"You know," she said wisely. "You and Mom must... miss your friends. I see you trying to hide it all the time. I'm not a baby, I'm not!"

"Hide?" He was too drunk to follow the conversation; his mind was filled with maudlin memories of his little precious girl. He used to tickle her bottom when he changed her didie, and how she chuckled and smiled! She used to follow him to the bathroom in her long nightie, and perch on the closed toilet lid while he shaved. In fact, it was only a few years ago he'd begun to shut her out of the bathroom when he took a piss. He could still remember her big-eyed stare as his fat dick splashed its hot yellow pee into the bowl. What was it she used to say? Her sweet face solemn, her chubby fingers pointing. "Is that yours, Daddy? Is that yours?"

She brought him back to the present abruptly. "Yes, hide! Hide this!" And somehow she wiggled her little bottom until his aching hard-on was pinned between her ass cheeks. It felt so good, he groaned in pleasure. The warmth of her little buttocks penetrated through the layers of clothing, and seemed to clasp his swelling organ in a delicious grip.

"Hooooghhh," he moaned in spite of himself. "Honey, you don't know what you're doing!"

"Oh, Daddy, I love you!" she said. "But we never talk any more! When you shut the bathroom door on me, you shut me out of your life."

If she was having the same memories, he thought foggily, there must be something to it. He leaned against the upholstered back of the seat, simply unable to draw away from the exciting pressure on his sore penis. He felt her loosen his grip on her, and wanted to protest but before he could open his mouth, she'd reversed her position. She sat on his lap leaning into him, her beginning tits pushing against the thin silk and brushing his chest. Somehow, her thighs managed to clamp around the solid bulk of his enormous swollen cock. Her hands were on his head, holding him behind the ears.

"Daddy, can't we talk now? I just need to talk to you!" Her plaintive cry gave him a new guilt to think about.

"Of course, sweets, you can talk about anything you want!"

Sally's heart leaped with happiness. At last she had what she wanted! She had her father's attention, all of it. She had him alone, in a situation where they weren't likely to be interrupted. And best of all, she had the physical nearness she'd longed for. She'd felt so funny lately! She wanted to hug and kiss, but there was nobody to hug. This funny feeling in her belly deviled her all the time. She couldn't sleep at nights, and found her hands slipping in between her thighs to rub the spot that bugged her so.

Sometimes she was damp down there, and she didn't know what it meant-though some deep-seated wisdom seemed to tell her it was important. And if you couldn't talk to your Daddy, who could you talk to!

"Go on, Missy, tell the old man about it." Max experienced some release from tension just holding her so close. Oh, the pretty little loving girl! The precious sweet body rubbing up on him! He'd never do anything to hurt her, but neither could he refuse anything she asked of him.

"I don't know how to begin." She bit her lip, trying to see his face in the moonlight which filtered in the back window. "Dad, I get such funny feelings lately. Especially-well, right here! Right down here!" She took her father's hand and guided it, to slip between her flat belly and pajama pants. The elastic stretched as his fingers followed her lead, rubbing on the funny flap of flesh which particularly bothered her.

"Daddy, ohhhhhh! That feels so great!"

Okay, Max told himself, just keep your cool. Why the hell hadn't Helen explained all this to the kid? Her baby clit was upraised and firm, fatly pushing on his fingertips. He stroked it lightly, smiling to himself as he felt her quiver with pleasure. Between the tequila, his love for his daughter, and his own pushing cock, he didn't feel the least bit guilty now. So Missy was growing up! She needed to learn about her body, about boys and men, about sex and life. It made him feel good all over to know of the life of joyous sexuality ahead of her.

The only thing was, it took two to tango. He remembered the awkward, stupid boys who hung around Sally lately, some of them with long hair, all of them tongue-tied and shy or else fresh and obnoxious. The thought of some other male, boy or man, dipping into his treasure made him furious. A terrible image burst into his mind: his sweet innocent Sally, her slim legs and arms entangled with the bony hairy legs and arms of a pimple-faced boy. Or worse. A lecherous older man, a man like himself who'd been ready to fuck the daylights out of a fifteen-year-old as long as he thought she was innocent!

"Arrggghhh!" He ground his teeth in impotent jealousy of the nameless faceless ravisher of purity.

"Daddy! What's wrong? Why are you making that funny noise?" She peered at him in the semi-darkness, alarmed even though her hips had gone into an odd little back-and-forth dance on his lap. "Daddy, don't stop rubbing me, please!"

"Show 'em all," he mumbled. He could see it so clearly now. He had to arm her innocence, he had to satisfy her artless cravings and keep her safe from men. His fingers picked up their smooth stroking again, and slid farther under her bottom. Strange, how the miniature pussy could be designed just like a woman's and yet feel so different! Part of it was the lack of a bush, of course. Sally's fuzz barely tickled his fingertips. Was her pubic hair brown, he wondered, like her mother's? Sally was blonde, so was Tim; though Helen said she had been, too, as a child. All of a sudden his curiosity demanded he find the answer.

"Here," he grunted. "Get on your knees, honey, yes, that's right." He pulled at the elastic waistband of her pajama pants. "Don't get in a stew, sweets, Daddy is just going to do something else. That'll make you feel even better."

He pulled the pants off clumsily, and then positioned her again on her knees, facing him where he knelt on the camper floor. "Are you warm enough?" he asked anxiously, but if she answered, the words didn't register. He put his face close to her pussy and stared. God, how pink and smooth and perfect! The soft curls glinted in the moonlight; first they were gold, then brown. He couldn't tell, he'd need a better light. But right now, what he needed most he had. His tongue shot out, slapping against the rosy cunt lips wetly. He felt her jump and then tremble, leaning into him. Steadying her with his hands on her hips, he poked at her shiny clit with his tongue tip.

He'd had a thorough lesson-just as Helen did-in the many variations of standard anatomy, through their nakedly revealing sex parties. Before he'd never thought about it, at least as far as females were concerned. Boys, and sometimes men, eyed each other's genitals secretly in gym showers and at urinals. If one was bold enough to begin it, they'd compare lengths and make crude jokes about themselves. Now he was as anxious to explore and discover his child's hidden parts as had been to see her teeth come in straight, and to watch her blob of a baby nose turn into a delicate replica of her mother's.

As he'd expected smugly all along, the little girl was perfect. The pubic curls, brown or yellow, curled beguilingly over the fat pink rim of her labia. Her clitoris was delightful, especially as it came erect and poked out toward his tongue. No wonder the sweet baby had what she called funny feelings! He slid the hot wetness of his tongue along it, tasting her juices that seeped from her ragged inner hps, and thinking they .were sweet as honey.

"Go on, Daddy," she said fretfully. "You don't have to diagram it!"

He laughed and suggested she he down on her back. His hands pulled her knees apart. Ah, at last she was right in a beam of moonlight and he could see. Pale brown, definitely. He ran his hot pebbly tongue into her snatch, feeling the viscous inner flesh quiver. He was turning her on, all right, because the hot cream bubbled against his lips! And the way her little tail switched back and forth proved to him she was really excited; that made him very, very happy. She didn't need any other male when she had her own loving Daddy!

She began to shove her pelvis at him in little uncoordinated movements, gasping "Oh! Oh! Oh!" with each forward thrust. He felt his belt digging into his waist, and his still painful erection disturbing his concentration on her pleasure. Somehow, without stopping his hot tongue-lapping, he got the belt unbuckled, the fly unzippered and his pants dropped to his knees. Phew, that was better.

He pressed his tongue up toward the small indentation, the entrance to her womb and felt it give with elastic readiness. Not too much of that, he warned himself, and went back to her clit. His lips formed a tight circle around the bud of flesh and he sucked hard, at the same time flicking it with his tongue.

"Crimanently, Daddy!" she gasped. She was panting heavily, and her whole body was in constant motion. Her shoulders heaved, pressing against, the soft sleeping bag on the bunk. Her hips and pelvis described tight little circles. Her hands clutched the bag tightly. "I feel so peculiar!" She tried to catch her breath, and added, "But good-don't stop-it feels good!"

His hands moved over her body, stroking the belly that pooched out a little with her efforts, enclosing her little boobs and thumbing the tits, stroking her sides, tickling under her arms. He was lost in a mindless ecstasy, only vaguely conscious of his own heavily throbbing cock and tight balls. His tongue pushed and stroked, wetly slathering across her satiny warm slit, even reaching up between her buttocks for a moment, sliding down the warm crease of her ass. He just couldn't get enough of her! She was sweet and precious, beautiful and soft and warm, and she was all his!

Suddenly her little body stiffened, held on the trembling edge of orgasm while a rosy flush crept over her boobs and belly.

"Owwwwwww! Ooooooooo!" Her hips jerked convulsively, driving her wet trembling twat down on his face. "What's this?" she cried out loudly. "AHHHHHHHHH! EEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKK!"

He smiled into her wet pussy and kept on sucking as he felt the fluttering vibrations of her labia against his cream-wet mouth and nose and tongue. Jesus, what a great feeling! He was giving her this gorgeous orgasm that jolted through her and made her mewl and yelp so joyously!

Max sat down on the camper floor with a thump, suddenly aware that he was so screamingly horny, he thought he'd burst. If it were any other female in the world but his own daughter, he'd have his fat dong in her before she knew what happened. As it was, he wrapped his fingers around his aching meat and began to pump. He couldn't help what she might be thinking, he just had to get his rocks off! Right now!

"Poor Daddy," a soft little voice cooed. He felt his fingers being pried apart gently. 'Tell me what to do now, Daddy, tell me how to do it. I want to make you happy, too. Ohhhh, Daddy!"