Chapter 5
Rosalie couldn't believe her eyes. The man actually seemed intent on having her right then and there, and right in his office! She watched with open mouth as he dropped his belt on the floor and advanced toward her.
"God," she moaned, "what are you doing? You can't! Oh please, please don't-"
""Come on, cut the crap," he hissed. "You know fucking well you're dying for it. You loved every second of it when you were letting your little brother lay it to you, and you'd have gone for it even more if he'd been old enough to shoot you full of juice. I am old enough, honey, so just open up like a good little girl and show me that hairy muff."
He was right in front of her now. With her still seated, the distance of her head from the floor was almost exactly level with the fly of his pants-an extremely convenient place for it, he thought. He put his hand on top of her head and stroked the silky thickness of her midnight black tresses.
She was trembling, her big dark eyes flashing around the room with agitation.
"You ... you can't do this," she whimpered. "Somebody might come in and find us."
He laughed at her, taking her hand in his and placing her fingers on his zipper as he spoke. "That's just what I thought," he said, "you want it all right. Hell, if being caught in the act is all you're worried about, you can rest easy. The door locks from the inside automatically whenever it's closed."
He forced her hand downward, unzipping his zipper as it moved. She squirmed but he controlled her with ease.
"You're awfully slow about raising your skirt like I told you to," he chided. "If you're ashamed for me to see how wet and ready you are, I'll break the ice. Take a gander at that, baby, and see how ready I am."
And with that he brought her hand to the lower limit of the zipper, allowing the lump in his pants to flop into the open. Rosalie found herself staring directly at the red, beefy end of his stiff prick. She had no other course but to gaze at the thing.
Herman stepped forward suddenly and she was humiliated to find the heated shaft against her cheek. Her nose was buried in the curly hair at its base.
He took her forearm and jerked her roughly sideways. "Okay," he rasped, "get that fucking skirt up, you hear! If I don't see your bare panties damned quick, I'm gonna make you chow down on my cock. Now which will it be?"
Shamed to the roots of her hair, she gingerly lifted the hem of her skirt past her long, curvaceous thighs 'til the silken crotch of her panties peeped out from beneath.
"Higher, damn it!" he commanded. He reached over her back and unbuttoned the waistband as she did what she was told. The garment fell open. He pulled her off the chair and it fell to her feet in a wrinkled heap. There was no way she could conceal her embarrassing secret from him now-her underpants were wet. He had been right all along about how her recounting of the sex bout with Jimmy was affecting her. She was so wet between the legs that her panties showed a dark moisture stain over the entire area of her cunt.
He pushed her sideways onto his office couch and awkwardly fell to his knees beside her. "Go ahead, honey," he whispered huskily, "off with em.
She was quicker to act this time. She hooked a forefinger inside the waistband of the damp panties and slid them downward over the smooth, moist skin of her perfect thighs. She wouldn't look him in the eye, but he could tell she was secretly proud of the way she looked under her clothes. He placed one of her hands on his cock again and this time she didn't even try to move it.
Did he just imagine it, or did she actually give it an affectionate little squeeze? He wasn't sure.
She was trembling so much it was hard to tell.
"Go ahead and feel it all you want to, baby," he invited her. "Never seen one that big, huh? How's that compare with Jimmy's little peter? You're gonna see something else different about it, too-it's full of juice. Full to the brim, and all for you."
Herman's anxiety about the imagined smallness of his prick was coming out again. He wildly hoped, as he spoke, that maybe her experience was limited enough for her to think he really had a big one. She didn't answer, but it wasn't necessary. It was plain now that she wanted some action and wouldn't try to hold back on him any longer at all.
He clumsily unbuttoned her blouse and she did nothing to stop him. Her bra was crammed full of the milky-white mounds of her plump big tits. Without waiting another instant, he lowered his head and sucked one into his mouth. At the same time he ran his free hand between her legs and insinuated his fingers inside the legband of her panties. To his delight, she wiggled her ass, helping him get them off.
Now her hand was moving up and down the shaft of his cock of her own accord. Her panties were down to her knees and Herman was fingering her cunt curls while sucking on her tit.
As soon as his fingers passed through the hairs and touched the soft, resilient skin beneath, Herman lifted his mouth from her tit and wheezed, "Sonofabitch, baby, that's eatin' pussy! Open up and lemme get a nice mouthful of that!"
Rosalie didn't have to be told twice. Her legs sprung open like a switchblade and she gave a little moan. She writhed around on the couch like a snake and went to work on his prick with both of her hands.
"Oh ... ohhh," she sighed. "Please ... please don't make me so hot. I can't stand it. Oh, I can't stand it when you do that to me!"
The thing she was so wigged-out over was Herman's tongue. He had pressed his face through the underbrush of her damp, curly crotch hair and his tongue had made contact with the warm, moist flesh of her pussy lips.
In answer to her plea, he simply gave her some food for thought-and also for using her mouth on. With a twist of his torso, he positioned his prick right over her face. It was plainly obvious what he wanted her to do with it.
She had moved away from the thing as though it were poison a few minutes before, when he pushed it against her cheek as she sat in the chair. But now things were entirely different. She no longer made a pretense of not wanting him in her pants. With a gusty intake of air, she guided the fat tip of his cock into her mouth and closed her lips on it with a resounding smack.
"Ungh!" Herman grunted, his mouth buried between her thighs. "Oh ... oh oh ... unghhhh!"
He had been completely unprepared for her enthusiastic participation. She withheld nothing. She even used her tongue on him. The second he felt its warm, wet surface wind around the head of his prick, he was unable to hold back. With a hunch of his loins, he pressed forward and filled her mouth with an abundance of thick white sperm.
She was as surprised as he was. But she was so hot she took it in stride, slurping it off his glans and swallowing it like a gob of whipped cream. For a few seconds Herman was incapacitated by the searing pleasure of his climax, but he soon recovered and shot his tongue back into her cunt like a frog catching a housefly.
This time he gave only a few licks to her cunt lips, going at once for the shiny nubbin of her pulsing clit. She'd had boys finger it before and she'd had cocks give her goose bumps by sliding past it on the way into her cunt-but never had she experienced a tongue against the delicate organ.
She felt a beautiful warmth fuse through her entire pelvis, felt her insides quiver like honey, then came. She worked her ass back and forth against his face in order to extract every last bit of pleasure from her orgasm, then collapsed with her arms over the end of the couch and her chest heaving wildly.
by the time she had gotten back to normal, Herman already had his pants back on and was combing his hair. Rosalie felt like hell. She had loved it while everything was happening, but now that it was over she felt like two cents. She quickly scrambled into her clothes and hurriedly set about making herself presentable. She could hardly get out of his office fast enough. And Herman, who had been so eager to extract information from her only a little while before, was now more than willing to let her go.
He ate lunch alone, at a restaurant a few blocks away from the welfare office where none of his coworkers ever went. He had a lot of thinking to do.
It wasn't so much that he was worried over the fact that the girl might blow the whistle on him. He thought he had convinced her pretty well of the insanity of doing that. And he really intended to file a good report on the matter of her incident with her brother, just as he had said. What worried him was the fact that he had completely lost control of himself. Utterly.
The little tease had gotten under his skin too much for him to resist. But it was much more dangerous than he had let on to Rosalie. True, the door was locked behind her and the office was thoroughly soundproofed. But what if his boss had wanted to see him? Or what if his secretary had had a phone call for him? There were a dozen things that could have accidentally resulted in his being caught with the girl.
He had been damned lucky, that was for sure. And he was going to have to keep himself from doing any so stupid. Losing his job would be bad enough-but what about Laverne? If he ever got canned for any such hanky-panky, she'd have a fit.
Herman's afternoon interviews were routine, and although one involved a particularly pretty girl he was able to hold himself in check. He didn't even subject her to the kind of embarrassing questions he usually delighted in springing on his interviewees. She was a fourteen-year-old who had been forced at gun point to strip for a drunken uncle, then coerced into sucking off a German shepherd. The man had subsequently been arraigned by the police and was sure to have the book thrown at him.
by five o'clock, Herman was more than ready to leave the office. He wheeled onto the freeway and was home in minutes. To his delight, no one was home. Both kids were with Laverne at a friend's house across town. A note asked him to please fix his own supper, advising him they wouldn't be back 'til after eight.
He ambled into the kitchen and opened a cold beer. It was very pleasant to enjoy it in peace without having Laverne hounding him. She didn't like for him to drink "in front of the kids," and usually gave him a hard time about it even when they weren't around.
He had a second, and by the time he opened the third bottle he was much more relaxed. He picked up a book to read, but abandoned it after the first page. He was restless.
He got up and headed for the girls' bedroom. Why the hell hadn't he realized what was eating him? He still had the kids on his mind, that's what it was. He remembered with a shiver of pleasure how Francine's dirty panties had provided him with such strange and unexpected excitement the evening before.
He started rumaging through their chest of drawers, idly running his hands through the contents to see what he might turn up. There were little anklets in one drawer, white and pastel. In another there were folded handkerchiefs and hair ribbons.
Damn it, where's the underwear, he wondered, opening and closing drawers at random. The next drawer was stuffed with frilly petticoats. Hmmm, he mused, wonder when these ever get worn? I never see the girls wearing anything like this.
Finally he came upon a neat pile of panties. He set his beer can down and searched through the soft undies, running his fingertip across the inner crotches and flipping the elastic in their waistbands. The thought that tomorrow or the next day one of these undergarments would be plastered against the pubescent flesh of one of the girls was enough to make his cock start swelling.
Impetuously, he brought a pair of panties to his nose and sniffed the crotch. Nice. Clean and sweet-smelling. But somehow not as much fun as sniffing a pair that had just been discarded by one of the girls. He thought again of how satisfying it had been to jack himself off in the bathroom while listening to his daughters' chattering in the hall and smelling Francine's cast-off panties. He went into their closet and searched through their hangers trying to find something-he didn't know quite what-that would carry the intoxicating scent of their youthful bodies.
Didn't Francine wear bras now? He couldn't precisely remember whether she did or not. Was he getting bombed on just three cans of beer? No, he recalled, of course she didn't. But her titties were now developed to the point where she should-it was only because of Laverne that she didn't yet have one. His wife wouldn't admit to herself that precious little girls were anything but immature children.
Damn it, if only Francine wore bras he could try to find one of them to sniff. He was sure the delicate scent of the youngster's freshly risen titties would provide him with a great turn-on. He poked around and finally came up with a cotton shirt recently cast off by one of the kids. It must have been worn that very day. The underarm areas were still ever so slightly damp. He excitedly pulled the garment to his nose and inhaled, burying his nostrils in the redolent fabric.
Ahhh, he sighed. Lovely smell. That was more like it. He treated himself to one more sniff and noticed, before tossing it back where he found it, that it was a shade too small to be Francine's. It must be Jilly's. It thrilled him to discover that the shirt belonged to his younger daughter-he mustn't forget her. Being two years younger than Francine, she was naturally not as developed. Only the barest trace of any titties, and possibly only the slightest growth of pussy hair ... but he knew how sexy an eleven-year-old can be in her own right. Damn, wonder if she did have fuzz on her pussy? How he would love to inspect the soft flesh inside her panties sometime and find out!
He finished his beer with a single big swallow and started to leave their room. As he passed the chest of drawers again he couldn't resist stopping for one last sniff of panties, freshly laundered or not. He rummaged inside, this time sticking his hand all the way to the ones on the bottom. What? His fingers encountered a piece of paper. He pulled it out and unfolded it.
A note! And evidently a very personal note, considering where he found it. His elder daughter's name was printed on an outer fold in pencil. His eyes scanned the contents voraciously. It was obviously a mash note from some boy at school.
"Dear Francie," it began. "This is to tell you that sumbody likes you a lot and thinks your a reel groovy chick. I can t say who I am, except I'm in your third period class. Do you have a steady boyfriend? I never see you with any certain guy all the time. I think your the prettiest girl in class. I would reely like to 'know you better,' If You Know What I Mean."
The note was signed "Love and XXXXs, Guess Who?" At the bottom was a final word-"P.S. Once I saw you bend down to get a pencil you dropped on the floor, and I saw inside your blouse. What do you think I saw in there? (Ha Ha!)"
At first Herman was furious. Some little pintsized Romeo had staked out his daughter as a target for his pimply-faced lust! The kid must be pretty dumb, in the bargain, if he could spell no better than the note gave proof. How could a kid get to the seventh grade still unable to spell any better than that? But his irritation soon vanished. Hell, the note wasn't all that bad, even including the reference to Francine's tits. Most boys do such things at a certain age.
In a way he was even glad she had received the note, and that she had kept it. It proved that her pretty little body wasn't the only part of her that was growing up, that her crafty little brain was concerned with the dark new possibilities of sex.
He carefully folded it and put it where he found it. Hmmm, he mused, "Francie" instead of "Francine," huh? That must be what some of the kids at school now call her. It's kind of cute. I'll have to remember that.
Herman meant to wait up for them to come home, but conked out after another beer and went to sleep. In his dreams that night there appeared a jumbled parade of faceless teenagers in panties and bras. They were all giggling and tickling each other in the ribs, their coltish limbs flying in joyous abandon. When they became aware of his presence, they all looked up and grinned. Two of the faces were then recognizable-the pert, elfin faces of Jilly and Francine. They waved at him, then, fingertips to lips, they blew him a kiss.
But before he could return it, his dream changed to the senseless picture of his prune-faced old secretary performing a spirited tap dance on a stage made from ripe watermelon. She was barefoot and wore a large manhole cover on her head.
In the morning, recalling the dream, he snorted in disgust. What a ridiculous ending to such a promising beginning! Why couldn't Jilly and Francine have remained there longer? As to his secretary's idiotic appearance, he was as mystified as he was disgruntled. Stupid fucking dream!
The rest of the week lumbered along well enough. On one night he made it with Laverne, if being permitted to suck her cunt qualified as "making it." And at work he managed to keep his cool, in spite of considerable provocation to do otherwise. A certain little redhead with big green eyes and perky little knockers gave him his most difficult test.
When Saturday morning arrived, Laverne got after him to help her. Uh oh, he thought to himself, more screens to put up or dog shit to be cleaned off the lawn.
"Okay, honey," he reluctantly agreed, "what is it this time? If it's about that screen on the kitchen window I already told you that I was going to-"
"No, no," she interrupted. "I've already given up on that. All I want you to is stay home with Francine while I take Jilly to the dentist. I let Francine stay up too long last night watching television and she's sleeping like a log. I couldn't even wake her up to get her dressed and take her with me-you know what a deadhead she is! Think you can do that for me?"
Could he ever! "Yeah, sure," he said, forcing himself not to reveal how glad he was, "I'll stick around. How long'll you be gone? Going anywhere else?"
She told him she simply must get her hair done, and that she was unable to get home before four or so.
"It isn't that Francine isn't old enough to be home by herself," Laverne explained. "It's just that I hate for her to be here alone when Jilly and I are downtown. If she'd been awake she'd have wanted to go with us. She'll feel left out."
He assured her he would stay home 'til she got back. "And don't guzzle all the beer we've got left while I'm gone," she reminded him as they went out the door.
After he was sure Laverne was well out of earshot, Herman carefully enunciated two words in her direction-"Fuck you." But it disturbed him a bit to realize, even as he was speaking, that he would never say anything like it to her face.
Like a flash, without bothering even to change out of his pajamas, he dashed to the girls' room. There she was, deeply asleep just as Laverne had said. Francine was lying on her right side, back to the wall, with her coltish limbs thrown out every which way. The covers were in a turmoil and her long blonde hair was strewn all over the pillow. As he looked on, her chest rose and fell with the healthy regularity of a young animal.
Too bad he couldn't see her tits. The quilt happened to be placed so that it strategically shielded them from his view, however, and all he could detect was their amorphous but delectable presence underneath. But he was luckier with certain other parts of her youthful anatomy.
One long leg was entirely exposed, being covered only at the very top of her slender thigh. A few more inches and he would-have been treated to a choice shot of her crotch. He wondered whether she was wearing panties. How did his little girls sleep, anyway? He couldn't remember. Another portion of her body left pleasingly and sensually bare was the entire left cheek of her hard young ass. His eyes lingered long and thoughtfully there, and were only dislodged by an unexpected movement she suddenly made.
Herman stepped quickly back and started to leave the room until he realized it was nothing more than a random shifting of position. She was still deeply and gloriously asleep, he noted with a sigh of relief. He walked closer, this time to the very edge of the bed. Her pretty face, fresh and rosy without the slightest trace of make-up, lay softly against the clean white pillow. Her mouth was parted loosely, displaying the perfect brightness of her teeth, and her lips-precociously full and slightly moist-pouted over some unknowable dream that may have been passing through her mind.
Jesus, thought Herman, gazing down at her lovely young form, how the hell I managed to pretend this kid doesn't turn me on for all these years is more than I can understand. She's a regular little doll if there ever was one!
Testing her, he slowly lowered himself to the bed and sat beside her. No reaction. He sat heavily with all his weight, even bouncing a couple of times. Her only motion was the natural swaying of her body caused by the movement of the bed. In a quiet voice he said, "Honey, you awake? Wake up, now." Still nothing.
With anticipation nervously mounting, Herman swung his feet from his slippers and lay beside her. His weight caused her body to slide slightly toward him, but still no sign of wakefulness from the sleeping youngster. The slight movement caused her legs to fall open a trifle, making her unconscious pose even more sensual and suggestive than before, but she evidently remained soundly asleep. Herman raised trembling fingers to her half-covered form and started to touch her. Would this wake her up?
Talking to her and moving the bed was one thing, but to actually come in contact with her body-that was quite another. Dare he attempt so bold a thing? Shit, what if she woke up! What could he say? "Excuse me, I was just looking for my golf shoes?" Hardly. Oh, he could simply tell her to shut up and go back to sleep, to forget it. After all, he was her father. But he knew damned well if he did anything too weird, word would get back to her mother.
He couldn't stand to be that close to such tempting flesh without at least a touch. Gingerly, his hand moved over her body, still uncertain where he should try touching her. It was like a hawk, dipping here and there over the surface below without ever quite touching down.
He'd try it somewhere though the quilt. That seemed less dangerous than allowing himself to touch her bare skin. At last he dropped his fingertips to the curve of her waist, just below her ribs. He traced it up and down the long contour of her side from her hip to nearly under her arm. She kept breathing with perfect regularity, her eyes tightly closed.
Sonofabitch, he thought, it's giving me a charge just to feel her through the quilt ... wish to hell I had guts enough to get under the covers and really get into it.
He lay on his left side, facing her, he in his unbuttoned pajamas and she partially covered by the quilt. He supported himself on his left elbow and used his right hand to perform his exciting explorations. He kept increasing the pressure of his fingers 'til he was rubbing her side. Now he could feel the delicately articulated bones of her individual ribs, as well as the firm rise of her hip and the erotic swell of firm flesh just below her arm.
His cock crept out of his pajamas and extended onto the sheet. With a surge of excitement he realized he had a good chance to really do something worthwhile with the kid. Shit, if only he could manage to strip the quilt all the way off without waking her up, he'd even settle for that. It would be enough just to see all of her at once, even if he didn't get to lay a hand on her naked body. He could enjoy lying there by her and gazing at her while he jerked himself off, that was for certain.
But with any luck, maybe he could even do more! His cock was all the way stiff now, and as he considered the wonderful possibilities confronting him it began to throb. He extended the movement of his hand to the round curve of her ass, the still-covered cheek of it, and its solid firmness sent a chill of delight through his excited body.
Just as he was extending his hand toward her armpit again, she suddenly moved! He jerked his hand away and was half off the bed before he realized it had only been a sleepy shifting of position. She was still out. He wiped his face of sweat and lay down again beside her. Her movement had opened up new vistas of delight and he couldn't wait to get his hands on her.
Now she lay more on her back than on her side, one slim knee in the air and the upper part of her chest exposed well below the collar bone. Shit! A few more inches and he could see, finally, the naked loveliness of one of those sweet little titties that poked up so impertinently from beneath the quilt.
He was getting so excited now that he was bolder. God damn it, I can't stand this any longer-I'm gonna at least get her naked so I can get me an eyeful!
Impetuously he jerked the quilt off her entire upper body. The girl's pretty little titties lay naked and soft before him, perfectly formed and each about the size of a small lemon. The skin was rosy pink, the color anyone with such blonde hair and pure blue eyes would have to have, he thought. Only the pert nipples that crowned their tips differed slightly in shade, and these were a deep, livid pink that emphasized their pointy shape.
Herman felt like crying, they were so nice to look at. It was all he could do to keep from covering the succulent buds with his mouth and, slobbering like a madman perhaps, lick and suck them 'til either she awoke or he went insane from lust. He moved toward her now with a growing need to lay his eager hands on the nakedness of her virginal flesh. Her lips lay half open, still pouting like a spoiled young aristocrat.
Then suddenly there was the crunch of gravel in the driveway and before he could believe what was happening, Jilly had dashed from the car and into the house. She was already as far as the inner hall before he managed to leap off the bed and stand trembling in the doorway. She was between him and the master bedroom, and here he was in the same room with her sleeping and half-naked big sister, his cock hanging out and racing like an engine.
"Daddy," she called out. "Daddy, where are you?"