Chapter 4
When Melanie arrived at the coffee shop, she found her father seated in a rear booth reading the evening paper. After she'd sat down opposite him, he lowered the paper to reveal the real object of his attention. "I really like this one," he said in an undertone, pointing to a glossy photograph in the catalogue. "Isn't she a dilly? And her dad ain't bad, either. Look at the joint on him."
Melanie accepted the booklet he pushed out at her from under the paper. She covered it casually with her purse while the waitress took her order-"A thick strawberry shake with French fries and lots of ketchup." In the same breath she cried out after the waitress had gone. "What are all these pictures? They're all young girls with old men."
"The men are their fathers," Baxter explained. "This is the catalogue of the father-daughter swap club. I received it in the mail this morning and talked to the organizer." He continued to explain how the club worked and once again pointed to the couple of his choice. "I've looked at every picture carefully but this one is the best. I love those boobs."
Melanie could see his eyes spark. She reached under the table and felt his balls. He had a hard on. She shuddered visibly at the touch of the hard lump in his pants. She remembered the softness of her mother's cunt which she'd left less than thirty minutes ago in a delirium of heat. All the way on the bus to Shattuck to meet her dad she'd been wondering how she'd react to him now, that she'd discovered the forbidden fuck fruit of her mom's. Somehow she found it difficult to face him directly. She felt as if she'd been unfaithful. If fucking Tania had been disappointing she would have felt rather less guilty about it. But having enjoyed it as much as she had only served to sharpen the pangs of her conscience. The gesture of grabbing her dad's prick under the table had been impulsively designed to assure both him and herself that nothing between them had changed.
And it was with both surprise and a great deal of pleasure that she discovered her fears to be groundless. She sighed with relief. The touch of her father's heavy dick was as rousing as it'd always been. Pussy-diddling with her mom had changed nothing. In her box there was room for her daddy's dick as well as for Tania's twat. She could take either with an equal lack of discrimination and with the same undiminished eagerness. What the two of them jointly would do to her constituted an interesting point of speculation on which her mind dwelt briefly. Her fantasy flickered alive at the mental picture of sucking the big dong of her dad's while her mom ate into her pussy. She sighed again and returned her attention to the catalogue and the picture Baxter found so much to his liking.
For a full five minutes she kept her eyes riveted at it. Then she riffled quickly through the rest of the pages before returning to the original picture pointed out by her dad. Looking at the sexy teeny fuckers with their big-^ong daddies had brought the color to her cheeks. "She's got nice boobs, all right." She curled her lips and wet them quickly with the tip of her tongue, "And he's really got a build on him. Do you think that's abnormally big? His cock is not even hard."
She swung the catalogue over to Baxter so as to allow him another look. He hunched over it, one finger on the boobs as if to verify their size. When he'd first examined the photograph he'd failed to give the teeny fucker's father a proper study. His breath had been taken away by the young cunt standing beside him in a pose of prick-raising sensuality. She was older than Melanie-about sixteen was his guess. Her hair was long and dark and reached down to the curve of a voluptuously pert keester. The muff she wore around her pussy hung down limp and dank, unlike Melanie's which was a tangled fuzzy bush. He liked long straight cunt hair. Most women had a tangled bush which felt scratchy to the surface of his underbelly. He liked the silky sensation of straight-haired pubes. But what had struck him most of all was the size of her knockers. They were of a dimension and texture which he'd only thought possible on full-fledged sex goddesses of the screen. The girl, though of normal size for her age, was topheavy under the freight of her boobs.
A young teeny fucker with big knockers. Each time Baxter looked at the picture he felt a lump knot in his balls. This time, though, at Melanie's request, he concentrated his attention on her father. He couldn't suppress a note of envy in his voice when he returned the catalogue next to the plate of french fries which the waitress had brought along with a strawberry shake so thick that the straw stood up straight in the middle. "Yes. He's pretty well hung and I suppose it's real enough. I can't imagine him attaching a length of hose to his crotch just to impress gullible little girls."
As the familiarity with her father resumed its normal level Melanie felt like getting sassy, "You did it, didn't you? You used a photographic trick to make your cock look bigger. If that wasn't meant to impress gullible little girls I don't know what is. I was just asking because I want to be sure it's real before getting involved." She brought her eyes closer to the picture as if somehow this would confirm the veracity of her observation. Other than that of her dad and those portrayed in the sex manuals on his library shelves, it was the first cock she'd ever seen of a man with whom she stood a good chance of getting intimate. The fact that his dick was slack added to her amazement. How tall would it stand erect? His balls were pink and bloated, swollen like twin udders. Apart from the slight suggestion of a pot the rest of his body was trim. He had lean hairy legs and a broad fuzzy chest. Of all his physical endowments his face was the least interesting. It might have been carved from soapstone for all the expressiveness it conveyed. It was the face of the horny Everyman, the dull obsessive leer of the average lecherous Joe. He looked rather smug, pleased with himself and the big dong which stood out before him like a flexed upper arm. Melanie tried to imagine what it would feel like in her mouth. "Do you know who he is? Have you found out his name?"
"Okay, then. It's decided." Baxter copied the number under the picture and closed his notebook and the catalogue. "I'll call Mr. James tomorrow morning and let him know we'd like a meeting for this weekend. I'm glad we're in agreement. Let's just hope they're free." While closing his briefcase, he lowered his head below the table and reached out with his free hand in the darkness. He clasped Melanie's knee but that was not what he wanted. This time he made a great show of dropping his napkin to the floor and picking it up. Leaning down under the table he quickly found his objective and his hand tangled with the clew of cunt in Melanie's panties. His arm was all the way up under her skirt. Her pussy felt warm and soppy just as he'd expected. But after a hurried additional squeeze he realized it was mushier than normal; it felt as if she'd just creamed in her pants.
"Did you go off just now?" he asked after pulling himself straight and folding the napkin on his placemat. "Did the picture of that man's cock get you? To be truthful I jacked off when I saw that girl's knockers. It's nothing to be ashamed of. I hope we can all get together this weekend. I think we're both a little curious."
Melanie didn't respond. For a moment she'd feared that her father would question her about the real cause of her wet pussy. She'd braced herself to keep cool and deny everything. Fortunately, it hadn't been necessary. The secret of her relationship with her mom was still safe.
For his excursion to Berkeley that evening Baxter had chosen the Porsche, leaving the late-model Chrysler at home. Only after making his way across the Bay Bridge did it occur to him that he might have made the wrong selection. It would have been far easier and certainly much more comfortable to screw Melanie in the roomy compartment of the Chrysler's back seat. The Porsche was a zippy two-seater, ideal for blow jobs but rather too cramped for a straight cock-to-cunt fuck bout.
"I wished I'd taken the big car." He spoke more to himself than to his daughter seated next to him. He'd swung off College Avenue and was making his way to the isolated lot of the municipal tennis courts near the university where years ago he'd done some occasional back-seat screwing. He pulled away from the dark arc light and stopped the car at the end of the sand road which ran to a dead end in a clump of bushes. He turned to Melanie and launched one hand up her thigh. When it reached the crotch of her panties, he felt her pussy flutter through the moist fabric. He worked a finger under the elastic band and ran it over the soggy mound of vulva.
Melanie let her legs hand limp and remonstrated weakly, "Dad, really. I shouldn't be long. I promised Mom I'd not be late. Also I got exams on Friday. I know next to nothing for Civics."
Baxter cut her protest short by giving her clit a series of quick titillating jabs. Melanie began to moan, unable to surpress the inner turmoil she experienced at the delicious finger-itch in her pussy and the simultaneous awareness that back home Tania was waiting, her big twat once again freshly bathed, a touch of perfume rising from her majestically arched tits. She felt herself torn between wanting to bite her father's dick and sucking Tania's twat. She didn't know which she preferred. They were both equally enticing. She could handle one or the other, but having it both ways confused her no end. And unable to make up her mind she accepted her dilemma without a further thought. All doubt fled from her mind. Her hand searched blindly in the dark until it landed on the bulge of the light summer slacks her dad was wearing. She grappled with the zip and pulled it down, careful not to let it catch the heated cock skin as it uncurled like a fat slug from his open fly. She ran the zip all the way down and pulled out the sac of his balls. With the fingers of her other hand she pincered the neck.
The outer edge of his knob felt like the handle of a walking stick. She gripped it forcefully, skinning it between two jiggering fingers. Outside the windows of the car she saw the outlines of the darkened tennis courts-the white stripes on the turf and the net and the empty bench on the side. A row of closely set trees blocked out the distant streets. If it hadn't been for her daddy's cock she would have felt afraid. But from its hard-muscled strength she drew assurance as well as a fat bubble of jissom which emerged as a tiny droplet on the head. "Don't jerk too hard," Baxter panted. "I'm about to blow."
Melanie eased the clasp of her hand around the shaft and continued to milk it gently. She helped her father as he leaned over to draw her panties down across her knees, lifting her skirt in a bunch around her waist to expose her snatch as a darkly moist roll of flesh against the beige leather of the seat. The strong static of arousal came pulsing through her body with its usual insistence. It was irresistible. She closed her eyes and worked her vaginal muscles in a clamp around the finger entering her pussy. Her cunt gurgled, the inner lips convulsing with invisible agitation. She leaned her head back and tugged at her sweater until it rose high against her neck to lay bare the small cache of tit flesh.
Her boobies were lit by the faint light coming through the windshield. The proportion of boob to nipple was very much in favor of the latter; the swollen teats prodded outward like fleshy miniature shoehorns, fatter at the nipple tip than at the base on the areola. When she felt her dad's mouth engulf one, she heard it squeak like new leather.
Baxter stayed fastened to the prong of her nipples. He flopped his tongue rapidly around its stubby erectile length, savoring the sweet young tit taste and grunting at the pulling and hauling friction down below in his exposed crotch where Melanie continued to milk the shaft with her hands. Unlike his earlier reservations, he found himself not in the least annoyed by the cramped space of the Porsche's front seat; although it made any extensive disrobement impossible and limited both their maneuverability, he found these to be spurs rather than obstacles to his fuck lust. He. looked at the small space as a challenge which not only raised the boiling cockblood but which also put a considerable premium on his own inventiveness and improvisationary powers.
While submitting to the silky pressure of Melanie's hands in his groin, his mind toyed at the same time with the various positions capable of being assumed in the constricted area of the car. A free-floating face-to-face hump which would have been so easy in the spacious Chrysler was out of the question in the cramped sports car unless he opened one door and extended his legs outside. He could let her straddle his cock but she was sure to bounce her head against the roof once the going got heavy. Any other normal insertive position was equally encumbered with difficulties, if not impossible. He considered going down on her bun but didn't feel like struggling with his knees bunched under his ass; he was getting too old for that. He wanted a comfortable fuck.
As his finger continued to batter the palpitating cunt flesh he found himself depressingly unable to make up his mind. He didn't know what he wanted. Every conceivable fuck thrill with Melanie had been explored to the outermost limits. His thoughts turned to the big-assed girl with the huge knockers in the catalogue. "Shall we wait 'til you come over Friday? It may be a little awkward just now," he whispered, detaching his mouth from her boobies and easing up on the rotations of his finger in her snatch.
But this time it was Melanie who objected to going home. Her dad's finger had planted an un-. relenting urge in her pussy. Now she wanted his prick-desperately. Once the juice started to flow, she found it impossible to shut off. She considered an aborted or misfired orgasm like the amputation of a limb-a loss that could never be made good again once the moment had passed. When she wanted it she wanted it here and now with the bulbous head of the cock pointed straight down at the cervix, that delightful uterine thrill button whose stimulation was like being massaged by all the naked angels in heaven. "Put your head against the window," she commanded hoarsely, shoving Baxter's shoulders roughly against the door. He slumped back, his upper body wedged between the steering wheel and the back of the seat.
Melanie withdrew her snatch from the impaling finger and collapsed facedown onto his groin. Her tongue lathered his balls briefly before climbing up along the shaft and playing around the corona--the outer rim of the knobby head. Her bare rump twitched convulsively as her mouth plunged with a series of hoarse, choked-up noises down on the stiff muscle. Her pussy squirmed over the leather seat; the rough surface created a strange new edge to the fractional heat in her twat. The seat was garnished with a number of diametrically spaced buttons. One of these had snagged her clit. The little rosebud's contact with the button produced an ecstatic cunt jolt that made her gasp for air.
She buried her whole face in his groin, drooling in the pubic patch and licking around the root, his balls, and up along the hard muscle until she again gasped for air. The urge in her pussy gave added impetus to the workings of her mouth on the stiff dong. Within seconds she had her dad where she wanted him to be; he was lying slumped against the door, his teeth gritted and his eyes closed as the oral attack on his pecker continued unabated. A pained expression stiffened his jaw. He felt the hot juice rise in the fiercely throbbing glands. "Ah ..." he muttered with each cock jolt, "Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Between protracted oral manipulations of his dong, Melanie could be heard to make similar stuttered noises. "Ochhh! Gluck! HarftY!" Her cunt ground fiercely into the seat. The hard leather button rode the open slit like a spur. She shrieked each time she bore her ass down hard on it. At the same time her mouth gurgled, filled to overflowing with its huge load of cock. She'd managed to worm one hand underneath his balls and these she shook maniacally to get the juice surging up along the length of shaft and out the cock slit.
Inside her own button-humping cunt the charge of pre-orgasmic tension built up to an unrelenting pressure. As the convulsions in her twat became more insistent, the whole car began to rock to the rhythm of her grinding ass and violently sucking mouth. Her hair flew wildly. Her mouth increased the force of its sliding traction. She smelled the musty wool in her dad's groin and launched a final all-out attack on the trilling shaft. She clutched the root with one hand and stirred it like a spoon between her lips so that the froth came streaming down her jaw and trickled into the wide channel between her boobies..
Baxter moaned, "Now! Now! Don't let go!" When he tried to fling his legs wide he banged his knees against the dashboard and Melanie's stomach. He couldn't move his groin; it was held down by the weight of her shoulders as her head buried itself deeper into his crotch. Her ass bumped, bucked and twisted onto the seat. He wondered what it was that made her so convulsive. She was carrying on like a Wild beast. From the corner of his eyes he watched her heave and toss her cunt as if she were actually humping a dick. At the same time she didn't lapse for a second in the violent lap job on his dick.
Finally, when he felt the whole car sway on its chassis, he tried to restrain her by placing his hands on her rump and thus holding her gyrations in line. In the end each one of these efforts was frustrated by the uncontrollable contortions in her lower body. The last time he reached over, his hands hung briefly in midair before falling down heavily by his side. His prick was pulsing like a piston. He was no longer able to coordinate his movements. Again he banged his knee into the dashboard while the steering wheel bored into his chest. But he hardly noticed it. The sap was rising in his balls. He clutched Melanie's head as it frantically bobbed in his crotch. Her tongue roweled the ripples into pounding waves. With another sopping mouth-jigger she channeled it along the shaft and into the pulsing red mushroom. And with a final tempetuous shake of her head she released a spurting dash of jism which he forced from his loins while his bowels rumbled and his eyes swam dizzily in their sockets. The spout of cock juice burst from the shuddering knob and spent itself against the roof, some of it splattering onto the windshield and on his own as well as on Melanie's head and shoulders. "That's good, dear," he wheezed. The tiny fissure in the knob continued to emit small bubbles of wax which trickled down the stem where Melanie lapped her tongue eagerly. "That's fine. Real fine," he panted again when her persistence in mopping his dick became somewhat uncomfortable.
While he leaned back against the door in a swoon of post-ejaculatory well-being, Melanie kept her snatch fastened to the button. The squishy sounds of her twat and belly moving over the leather became more violent. To his surprise Baxter found the car to be rocking more strongly than before during his cock-bursting climax. When he opened his eyes and observed the cause of the commotion he did a quick double-take. Right beside him Melanie was humping frenziedly. -For a moment he feared she'd suffered a serious convulsive attack. Her pink bum squirmed like an electrified jelly fish. Down in his lap he watched her face writhe spastically over his wilted dick. When she flung down her cunt he could hear the flesh slap against the leather.
At once he bolted himself forward and grabbed the cheeks of her ass, this time not to restrain her but to add force to her bouncing loins. Though still unaware of the precise cause of her fuck joy, he knew that it had something to do with the seat. Following each upward lunge of her rump he bore down on it with all the might in his hands, wondering what it was that made her squeal when the button jabbed her clit. For another minute the voluptuous writhings and blood-curdling moans increased in both force and volume. Suddenly he saw her jerk up her head. Her whole body stiffened. He clutched her buttocks and ground them into the seat, kneading the fleshlike dough. Melanie gave out with a low mournful wail as if the pleasure in her snatch had reached the furthest limits where it crossed over into pain. Baxter jammed his hand beneath her crotch and at once discovered the button smeared with the juice from her clit. Melanie ceased to wail abruptly and the frenzied howl of a siren assailed his ears. In the same instant he jerked her head away from the horn where it had landed due to the violence of her orgasmic contortions. The tooting sound stopped as suddenly as it had started; in the silence that followed Melanie lay still in the puddle of pussy cream that lathered the seat.
A few minutes later she let her dad handle her willingly, making no effort to assist him. Her panties were still down at her ankles; her bun bore a reddish stain where the leather had chafed it raw. Slowly her breathing returned to normal. She felt too exhausted to move and it wasn't until the Porsche had stopped a block away from her home that she gave a sign of being alive.
Baxter opened the door. "I'll see you Friday. Same time, same place." As he drove away he caught a glimpse in his rear-view mirror of his daughter stumbling like a sleepwalker down the dark street, her panties still twisted at her ankles. He honked the horn once to draw her attention. She turned, her head, reached down at once and pulled up her drawers. Then she blew a kiss at the vanishing car.