Chapter 2
Melanie dreamed that she was lost in a forest where every tree was a giant cock and all the undergrowth thick and woolly like the hair on her daddy's ass. Each time she lay down to rest, a tree would plant itself in her snatch and fuck her with a rumble of foliage and shakings of earth. Her pussy ran with maple syrup and big Maine woodsmen came with shiny buckets to collect it and put it in bottles which people poured over pancakes and waffles. She moaned out loud, "Don't stop, Daddy! It's so good!"
Baxter was oblivious of her cries, the girlish moans of fuck joy that filled the room. His ears were clamped between her thighs in such a way as to filter out all sounds except the slurpings of his tongue over the slitted bun in her crotch. Melanie had folded her frisky pink ass over the seat of the desk chair, her titted chest and head swinging back and forth on the swivel seat. Her knees were lifted slightly off the floor to let her father eat comfortably into her snatch. He'd been nibbling for quite a while-quick peckings at her clit alternated by long, lingering strokes of his tongue over the length of the vulva, sometimes rounding the arch of her ass and running his tongue straight into the pit of her anus. Then she would give a spastic jump with her rump, her boobs squirming over the seat and her mouth uttering nonsense syllables, "Guck-guck! Ma-a-a-a! Bup-bup-bup! Holy hoo-hoo-hoo! Duh-duh-duh!!! Fu-fu-fii-FUCK!"
Melanie could feel the prickle in her bun, a heated pin cushion pierced by a million needles, stitching the frenzied design of her fuck joy. "Ooooh! Dad! Don't move your mouth. It's just right there. Perfect... Oooooooh!" She felt the sap drumming against the flushed membranes of her cunt, dribbling forth a little at a time to join her father's mouth drool in a thick trickle of slime down her thighs. She kept his head locked firmly in her crotch, afraid it might slip and shunt his tongue off the track of her cunt. Sometimes he'd stab it hard into the swollen snatch and she could feel it like a little cock-except it didn't sink as deep. She preferred the way his tongue dabbed her clit- thup-thup-thup-thup-thup.
She continued to listen in a swoon of pre-or-gasmic heat to the popping noises his mouth made as it puckered up against her slit. She craned her neck around to look over her shoulder at the squatted form of her father; his ass stuck out but his face was hidden in her thighs as if he were a dog sniffing at the hole of a bitch in heat. She felt her legs go weak and edged her rump off the seat of the chair. Her knees landed on the floor, bringing down Baxter's head at the same time in the clamp of her thighs. She heard him stretch out in a prone position behind her back. She brought her ass down farther as if she were about to piss but kept her knees spread wide, thus giving Baxter the leeway necessary to keep his lips sealed to her bun.
For Baxter it was not the most comfortable way of eating pussy, but he had little choice. Melanie'd just as soon lose a leg as to miss a moment of the hot tongue play in her twat. He felt hot and woolly-headed, trying to think how he'd ended up tongue-tied to his daughter's clit. It had all happened so suddenly as it usually did when the fuck urge hit them. After enclosing the photograph of his monstrous cock in response to the ad, they'd playfully fooled some more with the camera, taking snapshots of cunt and cock, singly and in tandem, and posing in different ways to bring out new slants on various fuck positions.
Then it had happened. He'd wanted to take a dose-up shot of her anus and, at his suggestion, she'd bent down over the swivel chair while he set up the shot. She'd spread the cheeks of her buttocks wide to give him a good line on the inside tract of her narrow rectum. But when he got it focused in the viewer, his cock had jerked up, overturning the camera and placing him face to face with the delightful anal opening.
The rest was a blur. The fuck urge had hit him-a maniacal gnawing need to screw his daughter in the ass. He remembered how he'd rammed his cock up the tiny crack. Then he'd blacked out, oblivious to Melanie's wails of pain and terror when the blood burst in her anus. His jissom had spurted.
When he reopened his eyes he saw his cock still gripped by the small opening in Melanie's rump. She was lying slumped over the chair, sobbing quietly. It was only then that he noticed the blood clinging to his balls. In panic, he wrenched his dick from her anus and began licking it, filled with fear that he'd done irreparable damage. Melanie had begun to scream again and the louder she screamed, the harder he licked, terrified at the thought that he'd split her rectum wide open. It took a full five minutes to realize that she was not screaming from pain. Her cries were cries of ecstasy. His tongue had slipped from her anus to the slit beneath it and set off the sweet current of suck static, the shriek of a kettle whistling in her twat, the convulsive cunt bubbles of a little sexpot being rapidly brought to boil. The soft mush of pussy in his mouth felt as if it were having a seizure. It might have been peeing. He'd never know.
Again he'd blacked out. Her cunt had choked off his breath.
When he came to, once more his head was locked between her thighs, his tongue still fastened to her clit. His nose was free to breathe through the nostrils quivering at the strong odor of cunt. Sometimes his nose would give traction to her slit which would then slide over it and briefly cut off his breath. Each time he surfaced from this his lips sputtered with the cunt hairs that had come stuck to his mouth.
Thirteen years old, that was all Melanie was. Thirteen years old. Times had certainly changed. Baxter remembered that when he was Melanie's age, his biggest thrill had been spying on his five elder sisters when they sat on the can. It was a good day when his eyes caught a glimpse of snatch or muff, a patch of ass, the tiny hint of a cunt slit. Mostly, though, there'd been nothing to see beyond a housecoat draped over their knees while their discharge hit the bowl. He'd gouged a crack in the cement of the outside wall of the bathroom and a good part of his early adolescence had been spent there observing the toilet habits of his sisters.
The first one to use it each morning was Jean-nie who had the farthest to travel to work. Jean-nie only raised her morning coat to wipe her ass and rarely exposed her pussy unlike Pat, the eldest, who always drew her nightie right up #?er her waist and let both tits hand out. His middle sister Carry had an odd way of wiping her slit, reaching her hand all the way under her crotch and drawing the toilet paper back and forth over her slit. Baxter only found out later that she'd been actually masturbating. His two other sisters, Mary and Charlene, had what he came to call dripping pussies; they used to sit for hours with cunt exposed, dribbling into the bowl.
Of all of them, Jeannie was his favorite, especially when the time came for her to clip the hair on her snatch. Then her big pink boObs would jiggle as she held her cunt in the cup of one hand and ran the scissors over it, the tufts of pussy hair floating in soft brown swirls from her bun to the newspaper spread at her feet and young Baxter jerking off at the other side of the wall, his eyes glued to the crack in the cement. But when she'd finished clipping came the best show of all: Jeannie would put the scissors aside and open her twat with two fingers, poking the others up and around the cunt lips to pick off the stray hairs like lint off a lapel. On these mornings, Baxter would slink away from the wall and spend the rest of the day in bed, jerking himself some dozen times and wanting to fuck her so badly that he could almost taste it.
"Daddy, are you all right? I must've come some six times. Wow! It feels like you gobbled it all up. It feels like it's all gone."
Melanie's face was red as a lobster. She stood bent over him, her titties hanging down like two undergrown mangoes, her bun dripping and glistening as if it'd been smeared with salad oil. Her anus and thighs were streaked with blood. It looked like war paint.
She'd been in a war all right, Baxter reflected, a war in which his tongue had breached her cunt six times, according to her count, though Vastly more by his own reckoning. He knew the blood-curdling shriek with which she signaled her orgasm and he'd counted at least ten of them. His throat felt as if she'd peed in it. She must have had a continuous, nonstop orgasm spraying his mouth with an uninterrupted burst of come.
He looked up and met his daughter's concerned gaze. He was still lying prone on the floor. "Get me a glass of water, will you?" he asked weakly. But when she was halfway out of the room, he changed his mind. "Let's have a quick refreshing shower right now and then hop into bed."
Melanie took the suggestion in stride. She faced him from the doorway to the room and laughed sarcastically, "Do you want me to call an ambulance to take you to the bathroom?" Her tongue flipped out. Then she was off like a shot, her naked feet clattering through the hall.
Baxter stumbled up after her. He saw her again by the stairwell in the hall where she'd taken up a provocative pose, her tongue out and her pussy clasped in one hand as if she were about to thrust it at him.
Again she laughed mockingly, "Do you want a wheelchair to take you to bed?" She giggled and dashed up the stairs leading to the second floor, the whippet of her rump bouncing as she took three-four steps at a time.
Melanie's laughter continued to peal through the house. Baxter followed it with a limp dick and leaden feet. He wished Melanie were a little less playful and a little more considerate. He was forty-five and no longer a young whip-persnapper. It would be nice to see her show a little respect. She was only interested in her own little games of sex stimulation. Right now she was in a prick-teasing mood and wouldn't rest until he'd cornered her somewhere under the kitchen table or in some deep closet on the second floor. Then they'd struggle, her hands pulling his prick and his fingers up her snatch, both bucking and thrashing in a clutch of limbs until he got his tool inside her and she'd break beneath him like a small wet kitten, whimpering, squealing, and begging for mercy from the hammering cock.
Baxter lumbered up the stairs, shouting at the top of his voice, "When I get to you, you better start thinking about getting a replacement -you won't have a pussy to piss from." He was getting into the spirit of their little fuck game. Somewhere he'd heard a door slam. He dashed in one guest room, then in another. Melanie was nowhere to be found. The thought of her little twat quivering somewhere in hiding put the starch back in his cock. He ran back into the rooms and flung the closet doors wide and scampered back to the hall. She wasn't in the bathroom. Leaning on the bannister of the second floor landing, he paused. At the far end of the hall the curtains billowed. In three leaps, he was at the window. It was open. Melanie had fled up the fire escape to the roof.
The neighboring house across the yard loomed darkly behind the row of poplars separating the properties. A bank of layered clouds sailed past the moon. Baxter threw one naked leg over the sill. His feet hit the cold steel of the fire escape. He climbed on tip-toe, his erect pecker swinging under his ass. They'd never fucked on the roof before. The wind brushed his bare buttocks, cooling his balls. He felt revitalized and strangely exhilarated. The thought of himself-the senior partner of Ross, Murphy & Associates, naked as a jaybird, seeking his daughter's prize pussy on the roof-the thought of himself engaged in this bizarre lustful quest, made him smile.
The fire escape stopped about three feet short of the red-tiled parapet which ran along the roof on four sides. Baxter crouched down on the grille platform just below it, waiting for the proper moment to fling himself over the parapet, his prick out like a lance. He rubbed his dick. He'd let her have it but good.
His hand traveled to the tiled coping. With one leap, he vaulted over it, his balls swinging under his ass, his pecker stabbing the cool night air. The rooftop pebbles crunched beneath his feet. He straightened up and at once was Melanie huddled in a dark nook of the containing wall. Her hands supported both her boobies whose nipples she trained on him like the barrels of two machine guns. "Rat-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta!"
A moment later, these same rat-ta-ta-ing boobies were in his mouth and Melanie was lying flat on her bun beneath him. He shoved his knee up her twat and felt the pricklings of her pubic muff riding it eagerly. He'd expected a violent struggle but instead she went all soft, mellowing like butter beneath his thrusting groin. Her legs scissored his waist and her hand reached down between them to reach for his pecker and guide it home to the hot little cunt-nest between her legs. He felt the warm vulva draw it in; the cunt lips gripped the shaft and he thrust down deeper, groaning at the milking sensation in his dick. Her twat was soft as cheese. He plunged his dick through it with one heaving lunge of his ass that made his balls slap hard against her thighs.
Melanie shrieked, a howl of pleasure that broke through their strained breathing and pierced the silence. The moon had moved completely behind the clouds and the roof turned even darker than it had been before. Melanie rammed her foot in his asshole. Her boobies slapped against his chest with each downward plunge of his loins. He bucked and once again thrust his pecker deep into the soaking gash in her crotch. Again she screamed, "The pebbles, Dad! Ouch! They hurt my ass!"
Baxter withdrew his cock reluctantly. It had been nice and warm inside Melanie's fleshy bun and the sudden rush of wind moving over the exposed shaft made him shiver. He sat back on his heels and continued to hold his pecker in one hand. Melanie had struggled to her feet. He watched her draw one buttock to the side and crane her neck over her shoulder to observe it more closely for damage. "Does it look bruised, Dad?" she asked. "It hurt like hell just now." She turned her back to him and took a few steps to the parapet. "The view is beautiful!" she cried over the silent city which lay spread before her in a jumble of darkened hills and distant glimmering lights.
The view from her side of the roof presented a picture postcard of San Francisco. She could see the Golden Gate and the Bay Bridge going to Oakland far away. She was familiar with the landmarks-Coit Tower, Nob Hill and the newly built, prick-shaped buildings downtown. She forgot all about the bruises on her buttocks and even failed to notice that she was shivering with cold. Her hand described an arc in the air. "Dad, which way is Chinatown from here? To the left or the right? I could really go for some won-ton right now," she remarked with relish.
She leaned her titties over the parapet, craning her neck in the fog which had rolled in from the bay. The city looked darkly mysterious. A horn blew faintly and she felt the cold wind play around her pussy. Then she felt the more substantial element of her father batter the slit she'd thrust out from under her ass while leaning over the parapet. He was breathing down her neck, holding his pecker by the root and aiming it for her hole. "How's this for won-ton?" he said, pressing up against her with his cock hot on her ass.
Melanie continued to gaze out over the city. Baxter's cock lay lengthwise up the crack of her ass. She noticed that it felt surprisingly hot. The rest of her buttocks pressed into his hairy groin which was not as warm as his dick but warmer than the hands he placed on her hips. Melanie pointed at a distant twinkling of light. "Is that a ship, Dad? Do you think it's going to China? I'd sure like some won-ton." At the same time she drew his pecker out from the crack and passed it beneath her own crotch. The thick shaft throbbed in her hand as she guided it to the hole in her slitted plum, pressing her ass more forcefully against his belly.
By leaning her upper body farther over the parapet and raising her ass she thrust her pussy out at a more convenient angle of entrance. She'd now presented Baxter with a clear bead on her underside cunt opening and held her breath. With both hands she gripped the tiled rail of the wall from which she leaned out over the silent street below. Her titties hung still from her chest as she looked down on the dark pavement. Her father's hands gripped her by the waist. His cock was touching the edge of the cunt. He pushed forward. His cock entered her. She felt the familiar stab and began to wriggle her groin against the wall in time to Baxter's groin wriggling against her ass. She closed her eyes and began to hum with pleasure.
What Melanie liked best about the "backdoor" way to her cunt was the sensation of feeling the cock at angles which were impossible to achieve with the regular fuck positions. Although the parapet supported most of her weight, it still felt as if she were seated on a big stump or prick poking her insides every which way. Her boobies swung over the edge of the wall while she rode his cock firmly, her thighs spread wide, her hands gripped around the edge of the parapet. Down below a car moved slowly along the street; it slowed down at the intersection and sped away. Melanie watched her boobs slap against the exterior wall with each lunge of her father's prick behind her. The hair streamed down her head and blew in the wind. She wondered what would happen if anyone were to see her hanging naked over the roof, bouncing at the hammer of her father's dick.
Melanie smiled and then shrieked with joy. His cock was stirring her pussy now just the right way, the way she liked it-long lazy rotations scouring the interior cunt flesh, hitting all the thrill nerves. She squealed and heard Baxter's voice cut in the wind, "Let's not wake up anybody, huh?"
Despite the breeze and the occasional cold gust of wind sweeping the roof, Baxter was starting to work up a sweat. Fucking her like that was a pleasure. The parapet supported her weight, leaving him only the firm round ass and its underside pussy to concentrate on. In the silence that surrounded the roof, he heard the suction pull of his dick as it slid in and out of its pocket of flesh. Sounds always carried more by night than by day. The breeze scattered Melanie's moans in the darkness. Even his own breath was amplified by the silence to an eerie pitch. The sounds grew louder as the pace of his cock thrusts increased. He was riding her hard now, slapping his groin into her bun and watching all of the solid pink rump scoot up at different angles from the parapet. Occasionally, he saw her hair fly up from below the edge where her head looked down on the street. He would have liked to see her face, particularly the way it grimaced when he thrust down deep and eased up slowly to make her feel the full length of the battering rod.
But he was satisfied with the sight of her rump twisting itself like a cork on the screw of his pecker. Her joints moved as if they'd been greased with oil, meshing her groin rotations with the plungings of his cock. She was able to squeeze and relax them at will so that when his pecker lunged down deep, she'd squeeze its head by contracting her womb; and when he stood at the point of ejaculation, she relaxed her cunt sufficiently to keep his engorgement from bursting.
The technique of vaginal muscle control was one of the first things he'd taught his daughter after becoming intimate with her. They'd studied diagrams of the vulva, paying particular attention to its musculature-the location of the muscles as well as their different functions. Melanie learned quickly. On weekends she practiced with his cock and during the rest of the week she used her own finger or a phallic substitute like a ladle or bicycle pump. Within six months, her vaginal coordination had gotten to the point where she could milk his dick by lying still, moving only the interior cunt muscles. But because it was a very slow process, she rarely fucked him that way.
Their fuck urge was strong and they always humped like maniacs, but the few times he'd let Melanie quietly muscle-fuck his cock had been one of the biggest treats in his life. It had also been the slowest fuck in his experience; she'd lain on top of him, still as a mouse, working the cunt muscles for what seemed like hours while he lay equally still beneath her. The tension in his dick had been slow to build up but once the flutters started, it simply lasted and lasted; and when flutter came to twitch, he'd writhed and squirmed like a man being roasted over a low fire of burning cunt. It'd been too good to be true. With the final squeeze of her cunt, she'd just about broken his dick in half.
"Squeeze your cunt a little," Baxter panted over Melanie's shoulder. He lay doubled over her rump, connected cock to cunt, and reached for her little boobs. But she was hanging over the wall too far for his reach and he pla[ lis arms back around her waist, shoving h ck hard into her snatch so that it appeared for a moment as if he were carrying her front-to-back on his stump of prick. When he felt her cunt squeeze, he held still, shaking all over. Then he resumed his lungings; with one more squeeze like that he would have shot his load. Suddenly he yelled out loud, "Easy, you silly girl! Easy! Don't bounce like that. You're going to fall off the roof that way. Easy! Easy! For Pete's sake! Easy! Whoa! Whoa!"
Baxter was concerned and in the odd moment of diminished fuck flutters he would show his concern by shouting words of caution to his daughter. With each hard thrust of his cock, Melanie's ass jumped dangerously high. He was unable to see her head on the other side of the edge but he knew by her squeals that he was bringing her close to release. She squirmed and tossed her ass, trusting that the grip of his dick would keep her from tumbling over the parapet.
Baxter, though, didn't quite share her faith in the strength of his cock. Once she went sliding off his dick, down she'd go into the street. But during the intense twitches of cock fever he for^ got all about his concern, ramming and thrusting his groin as if his life depended on it. The sap was rising in his balls. He suddenly realized that he could care less if Melanie went ass over teakettle off the roof. In his rage of fuck lust it was only the need for release that counted. He continued to lunge and stir his cock, timing it with her squeals to determine the proper point for a simultaneous climax. Melanie was goading him on; she released one hand from the edge and flung it back to grab the root of his pecker, jerking it. From down below the parapet, he heard her shriek, "Oooh! I love it! Mother! Jeesushhhh! Ooooh! I love it!"
That was all he needed to hear. She was getting close to popping. He was off now, racketing along like a locomotive under a full head of steam, his cock driving down her crack with hoots and blasts and a raging fire in his balls. With one jiggering thumb, he clanged the bell of her clit. He had both hands around her lower bcily and grappled with the cunt lips enclosing his shaft. Her ass danced in his groin. A suddenly burst of fireworks seemed to light the sky. Then his thighs were quivering against hers; he was fucking her dog-style, his groin glued to her underside rump.
Melanie was screaming like a siren both at the frantic itch in her twat and in real terror at the possibility of falling headlong from the roof. With each lunge of her father's dick, her ass jumped clear off the ledge. At the same time the boil in her pussy was rising to its highest pitch of pleasure. With each violent lunge she saw her boobies jiggle like butterballs, the nipples straining downward. With his final lunge her whole body flew up and she instinctively spread out her arms like wings, screaming at the silent street, "I'M COMING!!! OOOOH! I'M COMING-ING-ING-ING-INGGGGG!!!"
It was only by a fluke of action that Baxter's arms shot out to grab his daughter's ass and thus save her from crashing two floors down to the pavement below. The sudden crunch of her cunt bearing down on his shaft as she fell back from the parapet brought his release. The sperm rushed up along the ducts from a million bursting cells. He yelped. His prick exploded. The jism squirted. Her snatch bit into the tip of his cock. He yelped again, clutching her ass to his groin and feeling the flutters slowly subside. He laid his head on her shoulder and felt her hand down under his crotch stroking his balls. With a final shudder he flung the last gob of jism from his dick. "That was good," he moaned quietly. "But I'm cold as hell."
Melanie's feet hit the roof. She showed her relief at feeling a solid surface beneath her again. A big red welt where the ledge had supported her stomach circled her waist. The flesh of her boobs looked raw from chafing against the wall. She turned to face him, taking his pecker in both hands. "Daddy, I'm freezing. Let's get back inside the house."
She went first down the fire escape, lowering herself foot by foot in the dark until she found the windowsill on the second floor. Before easing herself over it, she looked up and saw her father make his way down above her. He lowered himself step by step ass-first; but when he turned to measure his distance from the window his cock flipped to the side and briefly presented itself in outline against the moon which had reappeared from behind the clouds. Melanie would always remember that moment: his prick had stood there stiffly, looking for all the world as if it were acknowledging her presence on the sill with a military salute.
It was while soaping Daddy's dick under the shower shortly after their return from the roof that Melanie sprang the little surprise she'd been waiting to spring all evening. Baxter was in the mood to listen. The water splashing down on his body had put the spunk back in his balls. The workings of the soap cloth wrapped around Melanie's hand had gradually quickened his dick to hardness. He particularly thrilled to the way she squatted in front of him in the shower stall, reaching up with her hand to work the soap into his scrotum and back along the crack of his ass. He almost triggered off several times when she ringed his slippery dick with two fingers and gave it a few hard pulls; but when she prodded her finger up his equally slippery asshole he didn't care if she'd left it there forever. A soapy asshole and a little girl's finger-as far as he was concerned nature showed no better union of two combining elements than these two. Melanie was a magician of the soap cloth. In her hands it became invested with uncanny powers. She always withdrew the cloth from his lathered dick with a small ceremonial flourish revealing, as through magic, a giant erection where previously there'd been only a limp little weenie. Baxter looked down at it admiringly. "It's got its back up again," he said, pointing to the obvious.
Melanie rose to her feet and expressed approval of the job she'd done. She watched the water break on the ridge of the muscled shaft extended lengthwise under the shower. Then she took a small step forward and let the glistening cock head poke into the soft curve of her belly. "It's been hard just about all night," she said. Baxter trailed both her hands over the wet molds of boob on her chest. "How come your nipples are so soft tonight? They feel all soggy."
Melanie swept the soaking hair away from her forehead and squinted down at the twin jellies of tit in her father's hands. He was right, she discovered. Her little nipples floated limp in the center of their pinkish saucers. They appeared unusually soft. She wondered if she were ill. "Rub them a little," she suggested. At once Baxter gripped her shoulders and twirled her on her heels so that she stood with her back turned to him. He snuggled up close behind her, propping his dick up along the crack of her buttocks and reaching around with both arms to cup her boobies. He rubbed them like patty cakes and Melanie soon felt the nipples grow hard again. With her backside rubbing up pleasantly against his groin while the water poured down over their heads she suddenly remembered the little surprise she had in store for them. She spoke loud over the clattering shower, "Dad, you remember that ad in the Bay Barbarian last week? The 'jack-off-by-telephone' number?"
Baxter had laid his cheek against her neck, hunched over with both hands playing her boobies. They weren't very large, about normal for a girl of thirteen. He'd often wished they were bigger. He liked to see little girls with a chest-ful of tit that hung heavy and swung together with loud slapping sounds. Melanie's mother used to have tits like that, though she was far from a little girl; Tania was a battleship with the cunt of a man-of-war which the torpedo of his cock had never succeeded in sinking. Regardless of the explosives his cock hurled at her twat, it had consistently failed to bring it under the waves of orgasmic release. For years he'd tried everything to give her the climax she so much desired; he'd battered away at her cunt for nights on end, using cock, dildo, broomstick, even the leg of a table-all of it in vain until Tania came home one day radiant with happiness. She'd met a beautiful, big-titted bull dyke in a bar and she'd gone home with her and for the first time in her life had known what it was like to reach climax. After that their marriage quickly went downhill. Tania began spending most nights away from home fucking her new girl friend and Baxter started laying every cunt in sight until he discovered little girls and Melanie.
For years Tania had been seeing a regular girl friend, a young girl of twenty-one with a tongue she described as the closest thing to heaven on earth. He'd often discussed with Melanie the nature of her mother's sex life. He'd been especially anxious to discover if Tania had been trying to tumble their daughter, but Melanie had assured him that her mother kept strictly to her girl friend and never so much as showed a sign of being interested in her sexually. Baxter, however, was not convinced. He knew that it was only a matter of time before Melanie would fill out completely and her mother would again be looking for new fuck thrills with a young girl. With mother and daughter living under one roof everything was there to make for a situation where two cunts were bound to collide. From time to time he continued to question his daughter to see how matters stood between her and Tania.
So far everything had stayed cool between them, but he'd not at all been pleased to learn several weeks ago that Melanie had begun wearing her mother's cast-off panties. This to him had signalled the first of Tania's moves to win her daughter's pussy; and this had also been one of the major reasons he'd decided to provide Melanie with another daddy to fuck. He didn't like to see his little girl turn into a lezzie at thirteen. A different cock would give her new fuck thrills which might stave off the attractions of Tania's cunt.
"Well, what do you think?" Melania sputtered as the water ran down her face. Baxter opened his eyes. While thinking of Tania he'd continued to fondle Melanie's boobies, pretending that they were giant melons of flesh, imagining that his daughter was a little girl with big tits. Her voice roused him from his thoughts. He noticed his prick was still lying flush in the crack of her buttocks. "Think of what?" he asked innocently.
Melanie twirled on her feet. She held his cock and faced him impatiently. "Daddy, you weren't listening! The 'jack-off-by-telephone' number! Remember?"
Baxter initially had trouble sorting this information from a number of similar propositions they'd discussed recently. There were so many titillating ads in the Barbarian which they constantly talked about. Then it came back to him -the 'jack-off-by-telephone' ad!- He remembered now: it had asked readers to send a five-dollar money order to a certain post office box for a ten-minute fuck by phone. "Yes," he nodded. "Sure, I remember. We talked about it at great length."
"Yeah, we talked about it all right. But this time I did something about it. I wrote away for the number and I received it this morning."
Baxter patted her rump. "Good girl. I'm sorry I didn't get aroused to it as I'd promised. We were in the midstfof wrapp y up a big case last week involving a good deal of money. I just didn't have the time."
"You don't have to apologize, Dad." She gave him a sassy look. "I know you're very busy." She then explained how the "jack-off" deal worked; early last week she'd sent a five-dollar money order to the given address and had received in return a registration number along with instructions to give this number to someone named Fifi when she made the call. "You know," she added, "it's possible to get a six month subscription at one call a week for twenty dollars. Do you think we should take one out?"
"Let's not spend our money foolishly," Baxter warned. "Let's first see if it's any good. We'll finish up here in the shower and make the call from bed." He stepped out from under the splash of water and dried himself quickly. He tried not to show it but he was pleased with Melanie's little surprise. Listening to a horny couple fuck over the telephone was just the kind of thing that made for a whole new fuck game. He handed Melanie the towel and gave her a little smile to indicate that he was ready for another good roll after listening to some filthy fuck talk on the phone.
In the doorway to the bathroom he paused and aimed his ramrod pecker at her. She was passing the towel under her crotch to wipe her wet pussy and looked at him with thrust-out belly. Baxter was still aiming his pecker straight at her. He began moving it slowly in a wide arc while his mouth exploded with stutters. "Rat-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta! Rat-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-tata-ta-ta-ta! Rat-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta!"
"OOOOH, BABY, LEE! YOU SHU-SHU-SHU ... OOOOOH! YOU SURE YOU CAN GET ALL OF IT IN MY ASSHOLE! OOOOH! LET ME LICK IT FIRST!!! M-m-m-m-m- ... OOOH! NO! WIAT!!! DON'T PUT IT IN MY ASS YET! LE'ME, PLEASE! LE'ME RUB IT AGAINST MY SLIT! OOOOOOH! LEE-EE-EE-EE-EE-ee! EE-EE-EE!"
"Oooooh! Oooooh!" Baxter put his lips to the mouthpiece of the telephome while terrifying screams of fuck rage assaulted the ear he held to the receiver. "Oooh! Ooooh!" he moaned again at the slurping sounds coming over the wire. "Oooooh! Oooooh!" He began humping his ass uncontrollably on the edge of the bed. Melanie bounced along with him, her ear glued to the receiver. She was seated in his lap, connected cunt to cock; her legs were wrapped around his waist and she faced him frontwise, her boobies rubbing against his nary chest. She was holding the telephone between their ears while Baxter moaned, "Oooooh! Oooooh!" Her heel bore into the small of his back. "Shush, Dad! Listen!"
"LEE-EE-EE-EE! NOW! LEE! DO IT TO ME NOW!!! ARRRGGGGGH! OOOOOH! LEE! BITE IT! SUCK IT! HARDER! HARDER!!! LEE-OOOH-EE-LEE-EEEH!"
Baxter stopped wriggling his pecker into the clamp of pussy enfolding it. But Melanie continued to squirm as the screams in the telephone reached a frantic pitch. Baxter whispered, "What's he doing to her?" He looked at his daughter mystified. "I don't understand," he said again.
"For crissake, Dad! Listen! Shut up!" Melanie returned her ear to the receiver, plunking down hard on the impaling pecker. Baxter continued to listen, but he was still puzzled. It all sounded so screwy-not phony but screwy. After dialing the number, Melanie had asked for Fifi which was followed by a long pause filled with small slobbering and squealing noises and finally Fifi's return to the phone to ask them to wait on the line. Fifi's voice had sounded agitated, choked up, out of breath. Shortly afterward, while still waiting, the heavy sex talk had started- clear and lifelike to the point where Baxter felt he was not listening to a recording, as he'd expected, but to a real knockdown, drag-out fuck match involving Fifi and Lee.
"Are you sure this is the call we paid for?" This time Melanie didn't even acknowledge his question. Her breath was coming quick and wheezy. Each time she heard Fifi scream she swallowed hard: Lee was licking Fifi's pussy. Melanie could hear his big cock slap against her flesh. She tried to imagine Fifi's position under Lee's tongue. Were they doing sixty-nine? Or was Lee just eating into her cunt some other way? Finally she told her father, "Does it matter whether this is the call we paid for or not?" She scuffed her rump over his groin and quickly returned her ear to the receiver. She knew about voyeurs-people who liked to watch other people fuck. Once or twice a week she herself indulged in it by spying on her mother tongue screwing Rosemary, her lesbian girl friend of many years. But what about people who liked to listen to other people fuck? What were they ealled? She bit her lips at the indelicate mouth-ings coming from the other end of their connection.
Fifi was howling at the top of her voice. "OOOOH! I'LL HOLD IT OPEN FOR YOU!
KISS IT! FRENCH IT! OOOOH! BABY! LEE! THAT'S IT! DON'T STOP! HOLY SHIT! GODA'MIGHTY! OOOOOH! YOU'RE GONNA HAVE ME SQUIRTING SOON! OOOH! ARRRRGGGHHHHHHH! LEE-EE-EE-EE-EEEE-EE-EE!!! OOOOOHHHH!"
A series of violent slurping noises raged in the receiver. It was giving Baxter the crawlies in his nuts. Whoever Lee was and whatever he was doing to Fifi convinced him of one thing: Lee was doing a bang-up job! He wished he were there to join the party. Melanie appeared to be equally impressed. He felt her cunt grow hot around his dick.
They kept still for a moment, frozen cunt-to-cock and ear-to-ear, the telephone receiver between them. Melanie whispered, "I think he's going in the backdoor. Listen." In her excitement she reached behind her with one groping hand, arching it under her rump for Daddy's balls. She found them beneath the root of the joint rimming her twat-two fleshy eggs squashed flat on the mattress. She fingered them intently, squirming her buttocks in his groin and squealing when she felt his big dong stab deep into her little girl's womb. "Listen," she whispered, "Listen. Just listen to them. Fifi's screaming holy murder." She paused, then added, "Do you think we should call the police?"
"LEE-EE-EEEEEEEH! MY GOD! IT'S TEARING MY ASS APART! PLEASE! LEE!
LEE-EEEEH! OUCH! OOOOOHHH! FOR GOD'S SAKE! TAKE IT EASY! LEE!!! IT'S KILLING MY ASS! LAY OFF! PLEASE! OOOH! LEE-EE-EE-EE-EEEEH! PLEASE! OOOOOOOOH!"
Fifi's screams were suddenly cut short by the noise of a violent scuffle. It sounded as if a pack of fuck-hungry elephants had broken loose. Fifi's wailing choked off on the note of a little rattle in her throat. It was giving Melanie goose bumps. Baxter held his breath; for the first time he was able to hear clearly the brutal grunts of Fifi's anal assailant.
"Okay, okay ... BITCH!!! YOU MOTHER-FUCK! PRICKTEASE! CUNT! Okay, okay ... NOW, HOLD STILL, GODDAMIT! STILL, I SAID!"
Baxter felt Melanie's flushed cheek against his as both listened to Lee's efforts to enter Fifi's asshole. The telephone gave the act a sense of immediacy that made them feel as if they were actually witnessing the whole affair. Suddenly they heard a terrifying scream that made their ears ring. Fifi's asshole tore, a quick rip of flesh which over the telephone sounded dry as the crack of a rifle shot. Melanie jerked her head away from the receiver. Baxter watched his dong flip like a spring from her twat. The receiver fell from his ear onto the bed from where it continued to emit in dimished volume the clash of Lee's cock with Fifi's resisting sphincter. Melanie clapped a hand to her mouth, "Dad! He's got a gun! He's shooting her! Listen!"
Again the receiver exploded with the rage of Lee's voice. Even though their ears were no longer glued to it they heard him distinctly.
"KEEP YOUR ASS STILL! OOMPH! OOMPH! DAMN IT! OOMPH! JUST A WEE INCH MORE! OOMPH! STILL, I SAID! HOLD IT! OOMPH! IT'S IN!!! OOMPH! I GOT IT! IT'S IN! IN SOLID! OOMPH! DON'T SQUEEZE! IT'S LIKE STICKING IT IN A BUCKET OF SHIT! OOMPH! THAT'S IT! KEEP STILL! OOMPH! ROLL YOUR ASS SLOWLY! BEAUTIFUL. Beautiful. That's beautiful. DON'T JERK!"
The gradual mellowing of Lee's voice from rage to gruff satisfaction finally convinced Melanie that the racket she mistook for gunplay was no more than the normal sounds accompanying anal penetration. She remembered how much it'd hurt earlier when her dad for the first time managed to stick the knob of his pecker in her own anus and she sympathized with Fifi, though she also envied her. A tiny trill of pleasure came to knot in her own asshole when she considered the satisfaction that would be hers if only she were able to accommodate her dad similarly. She didn't count his bum-fucking her earlier as a successful attempt. Although he'd shot his wad all over her ass, he'd been unable to get his dong in to any depth.
Before that they'd tried it the anal way a number of times, but at each occasion the rim of her sphincter had proven too small. And although Baxter had tried everything to make it more elastic-from the use of olive oil and axle grease to baby shampoo and shaving foam- none of it had done any good beyond making the aperture of her anus more slippery so that his cock kept sliding from her buttocks without ever getting a firm grip on the rim. After each such fruitless attempt, she'd felt inadequate and disappointed. She itched for a stiff dick up her rectum and hoped that a new daddy with a thinner cock would be able to fulfill her desire.
Melanie was well aware of the eagerness with which her father lusted after her little asshole, especially after her pussy began losing its erstwhile tightness. He liked pussy that felt like the neck of a bottle. It was the sole reason for his interest in little girls. And if he couldn't have a tight pussy, then he wanted tight asshole as the next best thing. It had always saddened Melanie to realize that she could grant him neither of these two desires-her pussy had gotten bigger over the years and her asshole was still too narrow to enter. Perhaps he'd be able to gain satisfaction from another little girl.
She felt the nudge of his elbow and heard his voice from the pile of cushions on which he'd propped his head. "Lee's playing with her pussy while fucking her in the ass. Can you hear it? I used to do it that way all the time with your mom. Listen." She allowed herself to be pulled down beside him on the bed. The long telephone wire was slung back along the bed post behind them and the receiver was now back at his ear on the pillows. She stretched out and put her own ear to it. Faintly, as from a great distance, Fifi's voice could be heard wailing under the onslaught of cock and finger in the twin orifices of her crotch. Lee was putting it to her, all right. She listened to the squishy noises his finger made in her cunt flesh and the dry cracking sounds of his prick ramming into her anus. The finger job on Fifi's twat got soppier and soppier and at last sounded like the gurgle of a draining bath tub.
All at once Fifi's moans of pain subsided and gave way to a sustained drone of pleasure- "M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m! M-m-m-m! Ahhhhh! M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m!"
Suddenly it dawned on Melanie that her father had been right in his initial surmise: This was the real thing! This was no recording! No way! Or if it were it must have been taped during an actual event. The way Fifi and Lee were going at each other couldn't have been staged for the listener's benefit. Maybe that's how they got their kicks. Perhaps they liked the idea of having strangers listen to the fuck sounds they made in bed. People used all kinds of stimulants to revitalize their sex life and maybe the "phone fuck" was theirs.
Melanie turned lier head to tell her father her thoughts, but the question drained from her lips when she saw how busy he was. When his eyes caught hers, a strained smile broke on his face. Both his hands were gripped around the shaft of his cock and jiggering it violently. And when he spoke the effort made him pant, "Jack-off-by-telephone,' right? Isn't that what the ad said? Join the party."
Melanie had already buried her finger in her pussy. Only now, at the actual touch of it, did she realize how hot her bun was. She shot her legs out wide and continued to hammer her fingers on the exposed sliver of clit. At the same time, she watched Baxter jerk his stiff pecker. He held it ringed with one hand while the other grappled for support on the bed sheets. The telephone receiver lay on the pillow between them and their panting wheezes mixed with the drone of fuck pleasure coming from the other end of the line.
Melanie was starting to feel the first mastur-batory tingles in her twat. Ordinarily she wasn't too crazy about diddling herself, but the sputtering telephone beside her made it better than it had ever been before. She was actually enjoying the sopping touch of her fingers in the cunt flesh, the vibrating heat of her little clit. Out of the corner of one eye she watched the grimaces of agonized abandon on her father's face. His hands were now pumping his shaft like a piston. Then his legs went stiff, his groin arched, and his big prick burst, flinging the sap all over himself and the bed. One big gob of jism landed right on her lip and she swallowed it hungrily. Another gob landed on the mouthpiece of the telephone. Spreading her legs wider she exposed the full-slitted gash of her twat to her own eager fingers, her thumb buzzed the clit as it emerged from the unfolding labia.
Although weekdays she was in the habit of masturbating at least three times a day-in the morning before getting up, in the evening before going to sleep and once or twice in class during school hours-it had never been quite as thrilling as this with her father's jism flying in the air, the receiver loud with Fifi's moans of climax and her own hand grappling her pussy like the paw of a clawing tigress. She moaned out loud, exulting at the fuck stir in her heated groin. She moaned again. Her legs flung in the air and she tossed her head. The itch in her cunt rose to its crest.
From the receiver at her ear she heard Lee give out with a terrific grunt of satisfaction; this was followed immediately by Fifi's howls of ecstasy when the load of his come triggered off in her asshole. "Christ A'mighty! Lee, honey. I can feel it right up my ass! Oh, baby, Lee ... Lee ... Lee ... That was so nice. Oooh! Oooh!"
Melanie heard her father's voice close to her ear, "That Lee's something else! Now he's fucking her straight in the cunt. Can you hear it?"
He held the receiver close to her temple and she was able to hear the fitful snatches of two groins grinding away at each other. Then he took the telephone away altogether, but before Melanie had time to wonder why he'd removed it, she felt the clammy receiver prod the fingers in her pussy Quickly she strained her head forward, then let it fall back on the pillows. She'd confirmed by sight what her pussy already knew: Baxter was shoving the receiver up her snatch and bringing her to a pounding, mind-binding climax. Her clit felt red-hot and her body shook with the tremors of her abandon. She saw the soft molds of her boobs jiggle uncontrollably and heard herself shriek with fuck tension. A series of similar shrieks, fainter but nonetheless piercing, seemed to echo her own, answering them from the vicinity of her cunt. She caught another glimpse of her dad bent over her crotch, diddling her clit with the receiver from which emerged the howls of Fifi's furious orgasm.
Melanie stiffened, locking the receiver between her thighs. Her pussy felt as if it were about to crack wide open. Suddenly she tossed herself over onto her stomach, away from her father's hands, though keeping the telephone clamped to her twat. With her rump twitching convulsively, she humped the receiver between her thighs, bouncing up and down harder and harder at the increasing urge of cunt tinglings. Each time her ass lunged upward, it freed the sounds of Fifi's moans in the receiver ... moans which strangely resembled her own as she felt the hot burst of release break in her snatch. With a final heaving bump of her groin, she brought her cunt down hard on the receiver. "I'm coming!" she yelped. "I'm coming! I'm coming!" She writhed and shrieked, tossed and yelped, wondering at the same time whether it was her own voice signaling her abandon to the rage in her twat or whether it was Fifi's raised to a similar pitch of pleasure at the other end of the line.
The next day was Saturday and Melanie awoke early. Baxter was still snoring, lying nude on the sheets, his pecker curled up like a fat rainworm. She noticed the telephone receiver was off the hook on the floor. It still showed the stains of her cunt juice. She reached over and picked it up, wiping it clean on the bed sheets, then put it back on the hook and got out of bed.
Her body felt pleasantly cool. She'd been hot as an oven when she fell asleep the night before with the receiver stuck in her snatch and the moans of a strange woman ringing in her ears. She remembered vaguely her father wiping her bun and drawing the sheets to her chin. She'd slept like a log and now she felt refreshed, ready for another day of hot fuck games.
But first things first. Hastily she got into a light summer dress selected from the closetful she kept at her dad's home and picked a pair of open shoes with platform heels to make her appear taller than her five feet one.
She went to the desk and examined the envelope addressed to the post office box number given in the ad. She opened the drawer and rummaged for a ten-cent stamp and the key to open the front door with after she returned from mailing the letter. And just to make sure, she once more checked the address on the envelope with that in the ad. "Noobile ... noobile ... noobile," she sang to herself, skipping out of the room into the hall, holding the letter in her hand.
When she returned a half hour later, her father was standing naked by the kitchen window, lathed in sunlight. He looked like a beach boy, bronzed and relaxed.- The night's rest had ob-viously done him well. During her absence he'd risen from bed, showered and shaved. He'd just finished building a giant sourdough sandwich when he heard Melanie enter the kitchen. A picnic hamper stood on the table by his side. He pointed to it and mentioned cheerily that they would spend the day on the beach near Monterey, hence the hamper and the sandwiches. Then be picked up the jumbo sandwich he'd just made and waved it at her. "How would you like to set jour teeth in this?"
At the same time his prick waggled at the Motion of his arm and caused Melanie to return lis question with a blank stare. "Which do you Mean?" she asked, pointing first at his pecker, then at the sandwich.
Baxter laughed and looked down at the limp member dangling from his crotch. "Whichever you prefer," he said smilingly, placing the sandwich next to his dong. "You can have both if you like, though."
Their Saturday mornings were usually spent in the rounds of a fixed routine-a compromise on Baxter's part with the necessity of presenting to his friends and colleagues the appearance of an attentive father who, though divorced, continued to exercise the responsibilities of a devoted family man. In the field of law it was important to keep up a front of unsullied respectability. To Baxter it was simply good business to "show the flag," as he called it, by taking his daughter with him to meet his friends. His show of dutiful behavior towards Melanie was expected of a man in his position along with other tokens of civic-mindedness such as his membership in various social and charitable organizations.
Among his friends he was praised as a considerate father who, despite a failed marriage, was doing the right and proper thing. Yet, when Baxter was not present-usually after they'd had a few drinks-these same friends who praised his moral rectitude would brag to one another about all the things they would do to Melanie's pert little rump if they were to find themselves in Baxter's shoes.
The Saturday morning routine Baxter and Melanie normally followed involved breakfast at the Marina on Fisherman's Wharf and a
Bloody Mary at a table at the Boating ^Club next door where Melanie sipped Coke through a straw and listened to the grown-ups talk. Afterward, they were sometimes accompanied to a ball game at Candlestick Park by Baxter's law partner Stan Murphy and his wife, a big-titted dyke who'd once been shocked to observe that Melanie wore no panties, a condition she attributed to the harebrained minds of most young girls and not to a willful desire to expose herself, which Baxter knew it was and for which he'd given her hell later.
If they didn't go to the ball game they would spend the day alone together, doing whatever inspired them at the moment-a visit to the Botanical Gardens or the zoo in Golden Gate Park, a drive in the country or a GP-rated film in town, a stroll through Chinatown and a meal at an expensive Chinese restaurant where Baxter knew the head waiter, a visit to an art gallery or to one of Baxter's colleagues who had a boat and frequently took them sailing in the bay.
But most of all they spent Saturday afternoon and evening in bed, playing hot fuck games of blind man's buff, tag, hide-and-seek, and doctor; for the latter role Baxter would put on a white lab coat and a stethoscope which he'd brobe into her pussy, pretending to take her "cunt beat."
It was a rare day that they went for an outing on the beach. Melanie considered such excursions a treat. The last time they'd gone he'd stripped off her bikini bottom under water and licked her pussy. When she heard that they were going she'd clapped her hands, but she had one question. "Do we have to see your horrible friends first?"
Baxter shook his head. "It's gonna be just the two of us today. Let's make the most of it. You may have another daddy next week and I may have another little girl." Quickly he added, "Temporarily, of course." He took a few steps forward, holding his pecker as he walked, until he stood before her. He reached into the neckline of her dress and pushed up one egg-shaped mold of boob. His lips dabbed a quick kiss on the lovely pink areola. "Don't worry," he said. "Though there may be others from time to time, you can be sure of one thing." He paused and fondled her boobies. "You'll always be my little girl. We can still make it together whenever we want to. I'm still your daddy and always will be no matter how many other daddies you may play with."
When Melanie heard that they would not be spending the morning making the usual rounds meeting the same boring people she clapped her hands again. "Goodie!" she cried. "Goodie!" she cried. "Goodie! Goodie! I don't like them at all. They're always trying to pinch me and look up my dress."
It had been a marvelous weekend, the kind of time every father dreams of spending with his little girl. But there had also been a note of sadness in the feverish pitch of the fuck games they'd played untiringly, with hardly any letup, all day Saturday and all day Sunday until it was time for Melanie to get on the bus back to her mother's home in Berkeley. To Melanie the sadness had been present as a reminder that soon her father might be playing these same games with another little girl; that soon-perhaps as early as the next weekend-she might be fucking another daddy. For this reason she'd been unable to leave his cock alone, continually sucking, blowing, and needling it to erection with games of stimulation that were as imaginative as they were successful.
On Saturday morning, before leaving for Monterey, they'd breakfasted off each other's genitals-Baxter with three donuts around his cock and Melanie's cunt smeared with butter and marmalade; he'd scooped a soft-boiled egg with a spoon out of her slit and she'd gobbled strips of Virginia ham off the length of his dick; he'd eaten another soft egg out of her asshole and dipped both her titties in heavy cream, licked them off and subsequently dried them with a rough towel. They'd finished their meal by going down on each other; for Baxter it'd been a honey of a sixty-nine and it'd been likewise for Melanie-her father's jism had never tasted better.
During the drive to Monterey he'd driven with his cock hanging out of his pants. Melanie had blown him once more by lying down on the seat and burying her head in his open fly. At a stoplight near Santa Cruz he'd come, splattering his load all over the windshield. They'd stopped off at an isolated patch of beach which they knew from previous visits. In a rocky cave where the surf rolled right up to the entrance, they'd enjoyed a cool invigorating screw and when Melanie came her squeals of pleasure were drowned out by a large wave crashing over her bare, humping ass. Afterward, she'd let herself be tied to a tree behind the beach while Baxter sucked her off and she'd watched, unable to move, and screaming in a mixture of pleasure and pain when he'd tormented her by prodding a sharp stick up her tiny ass. She'd then done the same thing to him, securing him tightly to the tree with belt and chain and letting a handful of caterpillars loose over his hard cock before sucking it off.
They'd spent the night in a motel at Big Sur. After the rough stuff of the afternoon, Baxter had been uncommonly tender. They'd nicked in a number of different positions but when he'd once again tried to ram his prick up her dirt track the effort again had been unsuccessful. The next morning he'd been forced to find a drugstore to get some talcum powder for her sorely battered anus. They'd gone swimming at noon. Not many bathers had been present and the few who were had been unaware of the fact that Melanie was floating on top of her father with her twat impaled on his dick. Just when they spurted their sap, a huge wave had picked them up and cast them ashore where both had lain in the surf bare-assed and gratified. Then they'd lunched and driven back to San Francisco.
"Ill let you know first thing when I receive a reply," Baxter told her in reference to the ad amidst the clatter of bustling travelers at the bus station where he was putting her on the bus for Berkeley.
Melanie had smiled and bumped her groin against his in the crowd of people on the platform. Before jumping on the steps of the waiting bus, she'd given his cock a furtive squeeze, reaching up on tip-toe and whispering with her lips to his ear, "I'd like another daddy just like you."