Chapter 1

It was twilight-dark in the big, cool storeroom back of the shop and Harry's big-bulbed prick felt thick and sweet and deliciously hot in the overripe juiciness of my cunt.

Unlike brother Bill and the other teen-age boys I had fucked, Harry knew how to take his time. Until it was the moment to get his rocks off in my guts, he never hurried. The way he put it in his soft, low voice, "Honey, when I'm in there, I want to enjoy every precious moment of it... and I want just as many moments as I can get."

He had a hundred little tricks to bring me on, again and again, until it was time for him to send his thick, white semen spurting up into my thrilling womb to blend with my own white pussyjuice in the most delicious of all recipes ... and even then he didn't call it quits. He liked to lie right in there, letting his big-bulbed cock soak up all it could, with both of us relaxed and feeling as if the world had nothing more to offer us ...

Harry's darling dong would dwindle a little after a while and I'd be filled with a terrible sense of impending loss, so I'd stir my loins, sticky with sex-sap just like his, to bring him back to full size ... and he'd give his loins an answering stir that would move it ever so slightly and I'd feel it burgeoning again in my creaming coozy ... and then we'd be off to the races again. When time permitted, we'd made it as many as four fucks--without taking his prick out of my happy little hole.

This time, we'd been fucking more than forty minutes by the dim dial of the big octagonal clock on the wall, and Harry had already had three orgasms. How many times I'd hit the peak I had no idea ... it was always much too often with Harry to keep count. I had my little pullover jersey pulled up above the twin lumps of my breasts and my hotpants dangling from my left ankle ... just as Harry was still wearing his slacks, pulled down as far as they could go, and had his shirt, wide open, over his lovely shoulders. Even though Joanie and Bill, my sister and brother, were minding the store up front, there was always the possibility that some customer emergency might arise and we'd have to get back in a hurry.

Mostly, I'd rather fuck in a bed with my clothes off entirely ... but there was an element of risk in screwing Harry in the storeroom during an afternoon quiet time that somehow added to the excitement. But then, fucking Harry under any conditions was all the excitement a girl could stand. And having his big-bulbed prong moving around in my churning guts ... hell, it didn't matter where or when or how, just as long as my body could convulse around it in the sweetest convulsions I ever hoped to know.

Sure Harry was eighteen years older ... almost thirty-six, since I'm going on eighteen. He had to be older because he was my father, the only father I'd ever known and certainly the best piece of arse in Riverville, where I'd lived with him and Joanie and Bill and Mom ever since I could remember.

Sometimes, when I was fucking one of the kids my own age and not making it so big, I'd wonder if maybe something was wrong with me ... if maybe I went for his cock so much because of some psychological kink, because he was my old man. But then he'd slip that marvelous prick into my ever-ready cunt, and I'd know why. It was because he knew more ways to making a girl screaming happy than all the rest of them put together in one single large-size economy package.

Daddy Harry had to be the most.

In the half-dozen years I'd been fucking him, there was only one thing I hadn't told him. He thought he'd popped my maidenhead and it seemed to mean so much to him that I never told him I'd been fucking Bill and some of the boys around town since I was about ten years old ... not to mention sucking and candle-sticking sessions with Joanie.

Actually, Harry's prick was so much thicker and longer--a real man's dong--that I guess I reacted like a virgin the first time it went into me. I was kind of uptight for the occasion, and my pussyjuice dried up and Harry had to spit on his hand and oil the big bulbous head of his pink-and-purple prick with it before he could get it inside the lips of my cunt. I juiced a little then and tried to improve our connection, but it was slow going at first and the size of the broomstick seemed to stretch the walls of my tunnel as if it would split me wide open. So I guess I yelped and tried to wriggle free. My efforts to escape turned out to be my salvation, for the next thing I knew, he was pistoning that big beautiful codpiece in and out of my flooding hole as if sex were about to go out of fashion; and I was riding clouds I'd never dreamed of before.

That, as I said, was about six years ago, and I'd still rather have Harry's prick in my cunt than anything else in the whole world.

Beyond his prick, Harry was a beautiful man. He was lean and muscular and his body was smooth and without a lot of disfiguring hair. Like other men, he had taken to wearing his brown hair long and grown a thick Guardsman's mustache that tickled my nose when he kissed my mouth and tickled me in places a lot more exciting when he went down on me to drink our dew, which he always did after we finished fucking unless an emergency interfered.

This time, when his third load of jism bounced off the top of my womb, sending electric thrills of delight through my whole body, we both knew it had to be the last--for the time being. Mom was due back from her committee meeting, and she didn't like Harry fucking me back of the shop. She was always afraid somebody would walk in and catch us and the scandal would ruin her position in Riverville ... Mom ran the women's club, the PTA and just about everything else.

Since she put so much of her energies into civic affairs, she had little left over for fucking her husband, so she didn't seem to mind his fucking me--but only as long as we didn't get caught.

So, as the hands of the clock crept toward five p.m., it was time for Harry and me to wind up this delicious session in the storeroom, much as we both regretted the imperative. I rolled under Harry, I'd been riding him topside, on the pile of quilt-covered mattresses which served us on these occasions, and dug my heels into the soft springy surface with my thighs wide open and began bridging and driving my creaming cunt right up at his plunging loins, meeting his assaults with counterattacks of my own.

I varied the sweet struggle by putting my crotch into rotary motion and, as always, Harry rolled his cock right with me, holding it embedded to the hilt in my spiraling cunt, so deep that I could feel the steel-wool pressure of his pubic hairs against the delicate tissues of my labia and nymphae. Although his prick was no longer sliding in and out of me, the depth of its impalement in my guts and the roiling action of the areas around both of our fucking pieces was sufficient to bring us both to a boil.

As I felt his prick begin to jump convulsively in my creaming hole, I thrust my pelvis higher still and, gripping him with both hands by the cheeks of his arse, I drew my father's cock still deeper into my flooding insides, thrusting my boobs up against his smooth, firm chest until they lay flat and sweetly squashed upon my ribcage, moving my cunt sideways to give my old man an added bonus of thrills as he poured his life-giving fluid into the very core of my flushed young body.

"Come, come ... come... !" I heard myself gasping as the semen flowed all around the big round bulb of his cock's crown and then added its sweet slippery-elm factor to the juices already close to swamping both of us.

This time, when it was over, he did not let it lie in my tunnel to keep the unbearable sensations flowing through me. He pulled out with a soppy thocking sound as our sticky fucking areas separated for the first time in almost an hour and then, reversing himself on the quilt-covered mattress pile beneath us, lifted my left leg and buried his face in my flooded crotch.

His thick bush of a mustache tickled the in-sides of my upper thighs as it slid in between them until I had to giggle and jerk my legs convulsively; but when he ran his tongue's cat-rough surface over my protruding clit, I had to stop giggling and gasp as unbearable post-coital sweetness raced through me. At the same time, his fingertips diddled my arsehole and then he transferred his oral attentions to the rest of my crotch, lapping up the mixture of our fluids that covered it and then, after popping his tongue in and out of my hole, causing me to cream all over again, gathering my labia into his mouth and sucking it, nibbling it deliciously with his teeth between the long pulls that seemed designed to lift it right out of my body.

Nor was I idle in this sweet afterplay: how could I be with the dripping prick I so adored a mere inch from my lips. It was still three-quarters erect and white with our juices, while from its very tip a single pearl of sperm extruded. Taking his sopping balls in one hand and guiding the stalk of his big-bulbed prick with the other, I inserted the crown of his cock into my mouth and licked away the single pearl of semen with the tip of my tongue ... to discover, as I pulled back briefly and squeezed the shaft of Harry's prick, that it had been replaced by another pearl, which I quickly took into my mouth along with the first nacreous offering.

I have always enjoyed the taste of semen, even though I'd rather receive it in my cunt than in my tonsils. It has a sweet-sharp flavor that is unlike anything else in the world. I have been told that it is an acquired taste, but this was not so with me ... I enjoyed its tang on my tongue ever since, when I was nine years old, I first sucked my brother Bill's cock one night when he and Joanie and I were playing childish erotic games in the bedroom we shared on the third floor of the old house.

It is a taste very different from that of a girl's pussyjuice and seems to vary little from one man to another. But female sex-sap varies greatly from girl to girl. In my case, it is thick and has a musky quality, while in others it runs thin and has little of no flavor. In short, rightly or otherwise, I like my own sex-sap; and when it is mixed with a man's semen, especially with that of my old man, I like it best of all.

So, for another ten minutes or so, Harry and I enjoyed one of our sweeter aftermaths. We sponged each other off in the half-bath the storeroom afforded (Harry was always talking about putting in a shower but he never got around to it, and who cared?) and got our clothes on and returned to the shop in front. Our family phrase for what we had just been doing was taking inventory; we all used it and all knew what it meant, even Mom.

Mom never could stand to hear or, Allah forbid, say the word fuck. Whenever she heard it, she stuck her nose high in the air and acted as if somebody farted. When we dropped the words taking inventory, though, she just sort of half-smiled and didn't say anything at all. I never did dig the fine distinction; shit, it's all the same marvelous thing, no matter what you call it. But ladies of Mom's generation had a lot of old-fashioned bullshit drilled into them by their mothers, I guess; and they say a brainwashing you get as a child is the hardest kind to get rid of.

So we just went along taking inventory whenever we tore one off in the storeroom behind the shop and nobody seemed to mind. If Mom didn't want us kids doing it, I don't know why she had us all using the same bedroom for so long when were growing up--even though it was supposed to be perfectly proper, with Joanie and me in the double-decker, with Joanie on top, and Bill sleeping across the room in his own bed.

At seventeen, I'm the oldest of the three of us. Bill is sixteen and Joanie a year younger. I don't look much like either of them. In fact, I don't look much like Mom or Dad, either. They all run to brown hair and eyes and are bigger than I am and good-looking in a different way, with rounder faces and features. Even Mom fits into the general family type. She was Dad's second cousin. In the last year, Bill's prick has got almost as long and thick as Dad's, while Joanie's bubbies have blossomed until, if she tried to follow the ban-the-bra trend, there'd be a national letdown.

When Dad looked at her, naked, last year and saw what was happening, he said, "Joanie, if you don't watch out, you'll live up to the old definition of a bag." When Joanie asked what that was, he said, "Oh, a woman who can throw her left tit over her right shoulder and squirt milk up her arse."

Joanie burst into tears, but Dad just gave her big bubbies a couple of squeezes, one for each, and left her there with egg on her pretty face. Dad can bite with more than his teeth when he's in a nasty mood ... generally, after he's had a run-in with Mom over failing to live up to the image she wants the family to have in Riverville. She just gives him the silent treatment and this drives him out of his skull, especially when she doesn't tell him where he's goofed, and he takes it out on Joanie or Bill ... but never on me, maybe because he likes fucking me so well.

Another thing: he practically never fucks Joanie, even though she loves him as much as I do. He says it's too much like fucking Mom, and that he's had enough of that for a dozen lifetimes ... and that makes her cry because Joanie's really a nice kid who wants only to please.

Generally, after one of these times, Joanie has to get Bill to fuck her and then she gets added reassurance by getting me to suck her. Jesus, if I had her hang-ups, I'd be headed for a psychiatrist's couch ... if we had a psychiatrist in Riverville, which we don't.

Believe it or not, it was Bill who got us off on the fucking-sucking bit in the first place. There was a kid in school named Hotpants O'Houlihan, and she was around eleven years old at the time and she didn't earn her nickname for nothing. Her old man runs the feed and grain mill and has a private projection room in his basement and likes to run off X-rated films on Saturday nights. The way the story goes, little Hotpants (they called her Agatha then, believe it or not) used to sneak downstairs and peep through a chink in the wall. What she saw on the screen and among the select audience got her primed for first-hand experience.

One rainy afternoon, she got Bill alone in the otherwise empty school gym and took down her hotpants, and his, and tried to show him some grownup games. Bill got the idea right away but her approach scared him and he couldn't get a hard on and she hit him over the head with her books and he came home crying with a big lump on his noggin.

He couldn't tell Dad and Mom what had happened, of course, but that night, after we were all in bed, Joanie and I wormed it out of him. He was standing in his peejays in the middle of the room, and, as he told us, his pecker popped right through the slit in the front of his pants, pretty as could be.

He looked down at it and said, "Son of a gun! When it should have stood up, it lay down ... now, when it ought to lie down, it stands up. What a waste."

"I don't know about that, hon," I heard myself saying. "Why must we waste it?"

Joanie got the idea, too, and said, "Why let Hotpants O'Houlihan have all the fun when we've got what it takes right here in the family."

I let Joanie have first crack. Damned if I really know why except that I must have still been a little shy about fucking. I'd seen Bill with a hard on before, of course ... but only when I was too young to really know what it was meant to be used for. I guess I just wanted to watch before I jumped in.

Anyway, Joanie hugged him and kissed him and then began taking our brother's peejays off while he pulled her pink nightie up over her head. They looked like a pair of brown-haired angels as they went over to Bill's bed and lay down on it and tried to get the game going ... but both of them were so awkward about it that, by the time Joanie was lying underneath her brother with her legs wide apart, his erection was a thing of the past.

That was when I said, "Oh, for God's sake!" and got into the game...

I pulled Bill off Joanie and pushed her down to the foot of the bunk. Then I rolled Bill over on his back and knelt down alongside the bed and began kissing and sucking his diminished little prick. Don't ask how I knew what to do ... how does an animal know? ... but I did. I'd seen my brother's dong often enough as a child when Mother rightly thought we were too young for it to matter. I'd seen it a few times since, when we were taking a leak together outdoors or he forgot to lock the bathroom door ... and it hadn't meant much of anything to me.

But it did now. I wanted his prick good and stiff... hard enough for me to poke into the hole in my bottom that was beginning to get all wet and warm and sending little messages of need all over me. Little Joanie, looking on in wide-eyed surprise, observed, "You're sucking Bill's weewee." I lifted my head long enough to tell her to shut up and then got on with it.

It didn't take long. Soon excitement was bubbling inside of me as my brother's little dong began to grow and get big again. The taste of it excited me as well as its growth. In trying to work it into her hairless little cunt, Joanie had got wet enough to smear it with her pussyjuice, and somehow I knew what this was and it excited me even more, as did the thickness of my own saliva as I lathered it over Bill's growing prick.

When it was good and stiff, I pulled my mouth loose of that sweet fraternal flesh and scrambled aboard him with my hole right over his cock. Then I poked a hand down between our jocks and pushed its round head up inside my cunt. Thanks to the spit with which I had lathered it and my own creaming pussyjuice, it went right up into me to the hilt and there was no way for it to subside before I got both our rocks off.

Like everybody the first time, I was in a hurry and so was Bill ... and, since it was the first time for both of us and we were both way up with excitement, it didn't take long for him to come ... and, for the first time, I felt the sperm of the male spurting in my tunnel of love. I resolved right then and there it would not be the last time, either. I'd never felt so wonderful in my entire eleven years of life.

But I didn't know you could go right on fucking after an orgasm, so we pulled our sopping fucking pieces apart and his began to wilt again, even though it was covered with spit and sperm and my sex-sap. I watched it dwindle and wondered how long it would take to get it into operative condition for a second go.

Then Joanie was all over me, her boobless nipples sticking out like pink thorns, shaking my shoulders and asking me questions which added up to, "How did it feel?"

When I could get a word in edgewise, I nodded toward our brother, who was still lying flat on his back with his head lifted so that he could look down at his still-limp prick as if he couldn't believe it, and said, 'Try it for yourself, Joanie ... I can't tell you."

And I couldn't ... I still can't. Nobody yet has ever put into words just what a girl feels like when she has a man's stiff prick in her juicing hole, especially the very first time. But Joanie thought I was putting her on or something and began to blubber and said, "But it's all soft now."

"So make it hard ... I did."

Joanie shuddered against me and gasped, "Oh ... I couldn't do that!"

"It's your red wagon," I told her and, of course, with that, she decided she could. And did: licked off all the juices from Bill's lucky codpiece until she could add some of her own. She didn't try to get underneath him this time and she got his cock into her coozy all right and just squatted there with it in her hole, shaking all over.

Then she looked at me with surprise and her eyes went big and round and she said, "Ooooo ... it feels nice!"

Then she began making a few experimental wiggles with her cunt, and then Bill got into the act and began lifting his little rump from the bed rhythmically, driving his cock up into her quiveringly creaming cunt. This got Joanie so excited, she put her crotch into wild motions that brought her brother to a second boil ... and... then she goofed, losing him just as his semen spurted uselessly into the air to land on his lower belly with a small splash.

Joanie slept in the top of our double-decker bunk and I waited until I heard her deep slumber breathing before I went back to Billy's bed and we settled down for some real fucking. I was in no mood to share what I'd discovered that evening with anyone else. Not even my own sister.