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Subject: {ASSM} Jack Pack 04/09 {Hoisington} (MF Mg M-solo rom cons ped inc)
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{ASSM} Jack Pack 04/09 {Hoisington} (MF Mg M-solo rom cons ped inc)
- --------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author 2003. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
- --------------------------------------------------------
JACK PACK
by Russell Hoisington
Four of Nine
The Second Beginning
The nightstand's alarm clock thundered like the bells of
Notre Dame as heard from Quasimodo's perch. Jack fought down a
wave of nausea as he rolled away from Marilyn to shut off the
infernal racket. He rolled back, spreadeagled across his half of
the bed and part of hers. She was sprawled on her stomach with
her right arm and leg off the bed and the left twisted into his
space. They were atop the covers.
His hand landed on her smooth, firm, bare ass. Habit
steered his fingers down her crack, through her thick bush, and
between the lips of her cunt. He was surprised to find no sloppy
mess because the tingling in his balls told him he'd had one hell
of a good cum. Perhaps she'd used the bidet in the night to....
Memory returned.
"Aw, f'k," he moaned, knowing he had to get to Cyndi and
Megan first in case he'd drunkenly left evidence of last night's
"quality time." Which meant he had to get up. He didn't even
have time to ring down to the kitchen and have Consuela bring up
coffee.
He somehow made it to the door without throwing up, but had
to swallow hard as he reached for the door knob. He concentrated
on keeping the contents of his stomach in their proper location
while he opened the bedroom door and stepped across to the
nursery. He was well into the room before he realized that he
wasn't alone with the babies.
"Well, you look bloody awful." Felicity's voice was a
modulated groan. "I'm jolly well glad that I don't feel quite as
terrible as you look." He opened his eyes, not comprehending
until then that he'd been walking with them shut to keep the
earth steady. She had little room to talk.
Her short blonde -- this week -- hair was matted about her
head, with several free-thinking spikes engaged in escape.
Smeared eye makeup created a raccoonish mask. Lipstick crawled a
half-inch left of the corner of her mouth. Something dried was
flaking from her right cheek. Her white silk teddy looked like
the Russian army had battled across it The top was closed by a
single button at her waist, sagging open as she bent over and
revealing a large white breast with a brown nipple and her
surrounding tanned chest. The gorgeous globe had no stretch
marks or signs of sagging that he could see, and there was little
he couldn't see.
"There! All done now, love." She straightened and lifted
Cyndi. "That's the both of them," she said with a yawn and a
grimace. She wobbled on her bare feet and steadied herself with
the corner of the changing table. "Had a bit of the runs, they
did, but they are both nice and clean now. I was going to feed
Cyn her bottle, but you may if you want. May has already eaten
and returned to sleep."
Her eyes kept dropping to his crotch. He groaned. He was
in no mood to fend off her advances.
She stepped away from the changing table, revealing that she
was wearing her rumpled thong bottoms backward. He tried not to
look at the neatly trimmed brown bush surrounding the
ultra-narrow cloth strip that sagged away from her.
"Ugh!" he grunted, sniffing at his armpit and almost
gagging. "I need to clean up first."
Her eyes dropped to his crotch again. "Okay," she said, her
voice heavy with disappointment. She fumbled the Cyndi's
breakfast from the Baby's Bottle Buddy and lurched toward the
rocking chair.
Jack retreated into the master bedroom and staggered into
the bath. <How can anyone be so hung over that she doesn't
realize her pussy is exposed like that? She must have expected
me and dressed that way deliberately.>
He flipped on the bathroom light. In the large wall mirror
he saw that he and his naked reflection had their dicks aimed at
each other like gunfighters.
"Aw, FUCK!"
After thoroughly brushing his teeth, gargling half a bottle
of mouthwash, and brushing again, he gave up on getting the
dragon shit taste out of his mouth and stepped into the shower.
He scrubbed and then let the water run over him for a good five
minutes, slowly beginning to feel almost human except for that
drum and bugle corps competition in his skull.
As he sobered, he began to worry about what would have
happened if Felicity had found his semen in either Cyndi's or
Megan's sweet little slits. Fortunately she was still half
plowed, and the girls had crapped in their diapers. Also
fortunately, nobody would examine the wadded, semen-soaked wipes
in with the used disposable diapers. But if his acts had been
discovered....
Jack swore that he would never do that again. Worry ebbed
as he reasoned, <Well, it was only so that I could be the first.
I can be first only once, so there's no need to do it again.>
More relaxed now, his mind slowly drifted from worry to the
subtle differences between the tiny cunts of his daughter and his
niece. He vaguely realized he was stroking his half-hard dick.
He was horny, not a normal occurrence when he was sobering
up. Marilyn was still out cold. Just as well. When she was
hung over, the rocking of sex made her vomit, and that did tend
to chill the mood. Felicity was obviously willing to "give
Mister Johnson a home," as she put it. Just how long HAD it been
since their last fuck? He couldn't do the math because of the
image of her big, still-beautiful titty filling his mind. Except
for the nipple now browned by pregnancy, it looked the same as it
had the last time he'd held and sucked it while trying vainly to
encircle it with both hands.
Marilyn's dark pregnancy line, running from her navel to her
bush, had begun to fade. He hadn't seen Felicity's, but he
couldn't remember whether that area was exposed. Besides, he'd
been eying that now-trimmed brown bush, which had grown wild
except for the bikini line while they were dating. It made such
a nice wrapping for that warm, dripping hole which had so tightly
wrapped his dick. He couldn't remember a time when Felicity's
cunt wasn't wet.
Marilyn needed a little foreplay before she was ready to
screw. Just whisper, "Let's fuck," in her big sister's ear and
Felicity would be well lubricated before you could yank your
zipper down. Jack idly wondered if Cyndi or Megan would get wet
enough to fuck that quickly.
He came so hard his nuts ached for an hour.
ÄÄÄÄÄ
Jack knew he couldn't play with Cyndi's cunt forever. As
she grew older, she would remember. Worse, she might ask Mommy
to make her feel good like Daddy did. That last time he
masturbated her during a diaper change was when they were alone
in the house. He pulled a chair to the changing table, fingering
and licking her little cunt for a good five minutes, enjoying the
fresh smell and taste of clean little girl cunt. He knew that
she'd had an orgasm during the session. She even made that
special soft little gasp for him.
He hadn't planned that the session would be their last
during diaper change. It just worked out that way. Oh, he'd
still let his fingers stroke softly across her chubby lips and
down her slit, but now he didn't spend time massaging her tiny
hard clit the way he had before. He did kiss her little round
butt once, but the impulse to go farther was so strong, almost
irresistible, that he never did that again, either.
He found other ways to stimulate her, though. He would
place her on his leg and let her "ride horsey" as he bounced his
leg on the ball of his foot. Sometimes he would turn her away
from him, so that her little cunt was pressed against his knee,
and then he would rapidly vibrate his leg up-and-down. Once he
heard that special little gasp and was surprised to find his eyes
filling with tears.
A few times he placed her on his lap while he was wearing
thin shorts or a thin robe. He aligned her slit on his hard cock
and gently rocked her for mutual stimulation. Once, when she was
almost two, he came. He fed her some fingertip loads of cum and
was excited to see that she smacked her lips and appeared to like
it.
When Cyndi was three, Felicity announced that she was
pregnant. That day Marilyn took him to bed and kept him there
for almost two months, fucking him until his dick was beyond
sore, but not quitting, despite his protests, until she missed a
period. Felicity's pregnancy turned out to be false. Marilyn's
wasn't, and she drew immense satisfaction from that.
Three months later she spontaneously aborted, hemorrhaging
badly. The doctors told Jack that another pregnancy might kill
her. His vasectomy was barely thirty hours later.
Felicity did become pregnant almost a year thereafter. She
planned to keep it a secret from her little sister for as long as
possible in order to avoid upsetting her. Marilyn still did not
know when sixteen year old Joey Frakes, on a joy ride in his
neighbor's stolen car, ran a stop sign at an estimated seventy
miles an hour and hit her driver's side door. Marilyn Ann
Martin, age 26, was killed instantly, never knowing about her
niece-to-be. Steve and Felicity named the baby Marilyn Ann
Elizabeth Allison.
Over the next few months Jack sold his electronics company
for a medium-sized fortune, cashed in most of his stock options
for another, and moved to Georgia to be near Steve, Felicity,
May, and Mary Beth. Jack had no close family of his own.
Felicity's father-in-law had been transferred to Atlanta just
before Marilyn's death. Steve and Felicity had soon followed her
parents and had started their own business management firm.
Silicon Valley had ruined Jack for city living. He bought a
small estate in an exclusive rural neighborhood northwest of
Atlanta and discovered, with Steve's help, that he had a knack
for investing. He did some engineering consulting via the newly
emerging internet, but he had discovered that his real love was
working with his hands.
The groundskeeper was released soon thereafter. The staff
shrank until just Nancy, the aging cook/housekeeper, was left on
the anniversary of Marilyn's death. Cyndi still had nightmares
that she would be taken from her father, but the move away from
old lady Preen had helped. She was extremely nervous around
other grownups except for Steve, Felicity, her grandparents, and
Nancy, who Cyndi doted on as if the housekeeper were her own
grandmother. Nursery school was a traumatic experience for
everyone.
The night of the first anniversary of Marilyn's death he was
in the den recliner, listening to a collection of her favorite
instrumental love songs and sipping a gin and tonic. He knew he
would lose the battle to hold back the tears by the time the next
song started. He was right.
He held the glass on the arm of the recliner with one hand
and fumbled his handkerchief with the other. Something small,
soft, and warm pressed his forearm to the chair and squeezed.
"Daddy?" The tone was urgent, concerned.
<Aw, fuck.> "Yes, sweetheart?" he asked, trying to control
his trembling voice.
She stood there in her favorite light blue pajamas with the
flowers and cartoon animals -- the ones she had insisted on
wearing instead of the pink ones he had picked out. Her little
face was pinched with concern, and her chubby hand gently patted
his arm. "Daddy? Are you hurt?"
"Just inside, honey," he said, twisting to pick her up with
his free arm while holding the glass upright. "Daddy misses
Mommy." He laid her on his chest and hugged her to him. She
sobbed once.
"You're supposed to be asleep," he said, his voice not as
steady as he wished.
"I dreamded that old woman made Mommy go away with her," she
said angrily. "She wanted to get me next, and I raned away."
She erupted in tears. "Don't let her get me, Daddy! Please!"
Jack kissed the top of her head and put his drink on the
floor. He wrapped both arms tightly about her. "She can't get
you, sweetheart. We left her a long, long way away. It was just
a dream, and dreams can't ever get you." He held her and rocked,
occasionally wiping tears from four eyes, until she went to
sleep. He held on.
Nancy found them as she was making her final round before
going to her cottage behind the house. At the tap on his
shoulder, Jack opened his eyes to see her blue ones sparkling in
the lined face that was so nicely framed by her graying black
hair. She silently held out her hands and motioned with her
fingertips for him to hand over Cyndi.
Jack looked down at his daughter, then back up at Nancy. He
shook his head with a smile, then indicated his glass with a nod.
With a wink he silently mouthed, "Good night." Nancy smiled,
bent to kiss Cyndi's cheek, and took the glass with her.
Cyndi awoke with a start as Jack was putting her back to
bed.
"NO!!!" she screamed.
She threw her arms around his neck. He was amazed at the
strength in those tiny limbs and feared that he might hurt her
trying to unlock them. "DON'T LEAVE ME!"
"Honey...."
"NO!" She began crying with racking sobs, teetering on the
verge of panic.
"Okay, sweetheart. It's all right. Cyndi, it's okay. You
don't have to stay in here tonight." He gathered her in his arms
and paused to turn out the light as he headed down the hall to
his room. This was the seventh panic attack since they had moved
to Georgia.
"Okay, just like before," he emphasized as he put her into
his bed. "You wait here for me like a great big girl while I
turn out the lights downstairs. I'll be right back. Do you want
me to bring you something?"
Brown eyes wide, she sniffed and shook her head.
"Would you like Daddy to turn on the music in here before he
goes?"
A nod. Jack punched the button and set the volume low. "I
Will Follow Him" flowed into the room, making his voice crack
when he said, "Daddy will be right back before you can count to a
hundred and twelve."
She scrunched her face. "I can't count that far."
"Count to one hundred, and then count to twelve," he said.
"Okay?"
" Kay." Her face turned serious. "One. Two. Free...."
She was up to "Eighty seben" when he returned with the
Nevada Barr mystery he'd been reading. He put the book on the
nightstand, stripped to his tee shirt and briefs, and slid under
the sheet next to her, moving the book to the edge of the bed
where he could later reach it without disturbing her. "Told you
so," he said smugly. "Miss me?"
She laughed and threw her chubby little arm across his
chest, hugging him ever so fiercely. "Yes!" Nothing in his life
brought him as much happiness that simple, loving act.
He scooped her into the nest formed by his left arm and
side, and with his right hand he brushed from her eyes the medium
blonde hair that was growing slowly but steadily darker. Jack
kissed the top of her head and was rewarded with another fierce
hug. He gently stroked her head and arms and spoke in a soft,
reassuring voice, lulling her to sleep.
When her breathing grew regular and deep, he held the sweet
little person who was a part of Marilyn and a part of himself for
a few minutes more. Then, carefully so as not to awaken her, he
opened the book and began to read.
An hour passed with him lost in the mystery while absorbing
Marilyn's favorite music on a subconscious level. The real world
slowly crept back into focus, and he realized he had his hand
inside Cyndi's pajama bottoms and panties, gently kneading her
pudgy little bare butt with all but his middle finger. That one
lay along her crack with the fingertip pressed against her slit
right above her vaginal opening.
No. It was inside her slit and against her opening.
"Aw, fuck," he groaned. Desire washed over him, and he
couldn't put the urge away because she felt so GOOD! She was
still deeply asleep. He would just play with her for a few more
minutes, he decided. Perhaps she would subconsciously perceive
the touch and it would relax her -- give her good dreams and keep
away the nightmares.
He gently rubbed his fingertip against the warm damp spot
and was rewarded with more moisture that reduced the friction,
making it easier for him to play with her tiny twat. The warmth
seemed to increase, too. Soon he was able to stroke smoothly and
gently from the juicy opening of her little love pit to the
now-hard pebble of her clit. He froze when she stirred, but she
merely adjusted her position slightly, rubbed the back of her
hand across her nose, and sighed before resuming her steady
breathing.
He began concentrating more on her clit, backtracking
occasionally for another scoop of moisture to lubricate her
little trigger. After a few minutes of his gentle caressing, her
body began to stiffen. Her deep breathing became more choppy,
with longer pauses.
Jack re-wet his finger in her slick juices and traced
circles just around her hard little nub. When he drew his finger
down the buried shaft at the front of her slit and across the
exposed head, she stopped breathing for a second and gave that
soft little gasp he had heard the first time he masturbated her.
Her hips thrust twice and then her body slowly relaxed. She
emitted a cross between a moan and a sigh, rubbed her cheek
against his chest for a moment, and then resumed deep breathing.
There was no doubt that little Cyndi had cum in her sleep.
Marilyn had cum in her sleep the same way.
Jack now had a rampaging boner that could do serious damage
to an iron bar.
He put the closed book aside and shoved his hand down the
top of his briefs to wrap it around his throbbing erection. He
began stroking himself while his left hand read his daughter's
secrets in braille. He knew he was moments from cumming, and he
didn't have anything available to clean up afterward. The box of
kleenexes was out of reach unless he disturbed Cyndi. In the
right rear corner of his mind, the engineer who never sleeps said
that since he'd already shot three diminishing loads that day
while masturbating to his nude pictures of Marilyn, he wouldn't
make much of a mess anyway.
The engineer was right as usual. A quarter-teaspoon
dribbled from his cock and puddled on his belly. He wondered if
he was really surprised at his next decision.
She took two-thirds of it in her mouth without awakening.
The remaining third was slowly transferred to the middle finger
of his left hand, which then eased back into her pajamas and
rubbed its load into her hot, wet slit and onto her tiny twat
trigger.
Content for the moment, he reached up to the control panel
in the headboard and punched out the lights. He left the music
playing and his hand around his daughter's sweet little bare ass.
Sometime in the night he released it, but his dreams remained
wonderfully erotic.
ÄÄÄÄÄ
The origin of babies came a few months later, when she
accidentally walked in on him in the first floor bathroom and
wanted to know what "that" was. He really couldn't explain why
she'd never seen his cock before that moment; whether it was some
unrealized holdover from Marilyn's odd prudishness, or it was
just the way things happened. He answered all her questions
honestly and with as much detail as she seemed able to handle.
She still slept with him whenever she had panic attacks. He
did not question that they had suddenly begun coming with
increased frequency. Almost every time she spent the night in
his bed, he masturbated her to a nocturnal orgasm and sometimes
jacked off himself, again feeding her part of his jism and
massaging the rest into her little cunt.
Just before Halloween, while Nancy was in Alabama visiting
her son's family, he put Cyndi to bed, stayed with her until she
dozed off, and retired to the den with an Irish coffee. He
unlocked the second videotape cabinet, chose "Alice in
Wonderland", and slid it into the VCR. He positioned himself
where he could see Cyndi's shadow cast by the upstairs hall light
if she started down the stairs, flipped out his half-boner, and
stroked it to full erection.
He closed his eyes while cumming during the Tweedledee and
Tweedledum oral sex scene. When he opened them, Cyndi stood next
to the recliner in her yellow nightie, eyes as big as the pumpkin
they were to carve the next day. "WOW!" she said, her cheeks
dimpling as she leaned forward to rest on her forearms for a
closer look. "I didn't know it got BIGGER when it wreckted!"
"Bigger" immediately ceased to be an issue. It couldn't
have shrunk any faster if she'd dumped a pitcher of ice water on
it.
"Huh!" she said, eyes wide. Her face corkscrewed into a
question. "Can you make it stick up again?"
"Cy... -- Cyndi!" he said, stammering in embarrassment,
trying to stuff his dead dork back into his pants and also to
conceal the wad soaking into the napkin. "Wh... -- what...."
"Oh! Is that the simian you told me about?"
"Semen, honey," he automatically corrected. "Why..."
She sniffed. "It smells f'miliar. What where you -- Daddy!
Are they making a baby!?"
He looked up from what he was doing to see her wide eyes
locked on the television. Dum and Dee were now merrily humping
away. "Well, sort of."
"Wow!" she said, a touch of awe in her voice. Then her head
jerked back in surprise at the cum shot. "Doesn't he have to
squirt it in her to make the baby?"
"Honey -- people don't have sex just to have babies," he
said, trying to get the zipper unstuck now that the flaccid snake
was back in its den. "Sometimes they do it just to have fun
because it feels good."
"She rubbed his -- his thingy with her hand, just like you
did," she said, focusing her attention on him now that the movie
was showing a song and dance number. "But you didn't have anyone
on you first."
<Aw, fuck.>
Sex Education Lesson Two featured an essay on masturbation,
followed by questions and answers that included the fact that
girls didn't have to be left out of the fun. It also included a
lecture on the necessity that she never, ever, tell anyone what
she'd seen and heard or else someone like Miss Preen WOULD take
her away, and he'd be powerless to stop it.
The full lecture was unnecessary: the first sentence was
enough to frighten her into silence. It also preyed on her mind
as she fell asleep.
The panic attack happened around two. He cuddled her and
soothed her for twenty minutes before she fell asleep in the nest
of his left arm. He did not play with her as she slept.
Instead, he gently stroked his right fingers across the top of
her head until she fell asleep.
When the clock-radio alarm sounded he awoke to find the
sheet pulled down and her head resting on his bare stomach. His
tee shirt front was bunched above the top of his briefs, which
contained a raging piss-hard boner. He switched off the radio
and lay there thinking while waiting for the erection to subside.
His suspicions were aroused, but he decided to say nothing. She
may have awakened and attempted to satisfy her curiosity, or he
may have bunched the tee shirt while groping himself in his
sleep.
After his boner subsided he tried to slip out of bed without
awakening her. As he slipped from under her head, she yawned.
"Daddy?"
"What, sweetheart?"
She stretched like an awakening cat, one limb at a time.
"I'm hungry. C'n we have brekfus?"
"Of course. What do you want?"
Her eyebrows scrunched together for a moment. "Waffles."
"Waffles it is, Milady." He bent down and blew a fart kiss
on her tummy, making her squeal and kick and push at his head.
Her fingers had the unmistakable aroma of her little cunt.
His cock jumped in his briefs. Fortunately, she wasn't
looking toward it. "But Daddy has to go potty first," he said,
sliding out of the bed and hoping that he could keep the elephant
from going on a rampage before he got to the bathroom. He
successfully kept it down long enough to take a leak and then
shot his wad after only two dozen strokes.
After a leisurely breakfast Jack took her back upstairs for
her bath. While he ran water into her tub she pulled off her
yellow top, then pivoted her foot on the point of her big toe, as
if trying to bore a hole in the carpet with it. "Daddy?"
He was about to ask if she wanted bubble bath. Instead he
squatted beside her and asked, "What, sweetie?"
She kept her eyes on her toe and asked in a soft voice, "C'n
I take a shower? Please?"
"Sweetie, I don't know how I could wash you without getting
water everywhere. Or do you want to wash yourself?"
She hesitated for several seconds, still pivoting her foot.
Her voice dropped again, to barely more than a whisper. "You
could get in with me."
Although he had thought that was the reason for her
hesitation Jack discovered that he didn't know what to say.
"Daddy, I won't tell anybody. EVER!"
If Jack had been about to say, "No," and he wasn't really
sure what he was about to say, the tone of her voice changed his
mind. He killed the water and flipped the drain lever.
"Okay," he said as cheerfully as he could, trying to mask
the real turmoil inside, "but you have to carry me in there."
Head still down, her eyebrows came together and her eyes
rolled to look at him. "DADDYYYY!" she said as she skinned down
the nightie bottoms with her thumbs.
Jack stared at the yellow cloth slumped around her ankles
and wondered just when she had stopped wearing panties under
them. He realized only then that it had been some time since
he'd had to slide his hand under two elastic bands to reach her
bouncy little butt.
She stood looking up at him, with her mussed dark-blondish
hair barely grazing her shoulders and her right hand clasping her
left wrist across her round little tummy. Before the sight could
stir things he didn't want stirring, she turned and sprinted out
the door. "Race you!" she shouted from the hall.
He grabbed her shampoo and rose to his feet. "I win!"
"DADDYYYY!"
Jack put her shampoo in the shower, set the automatic
temperature control, and stepped back into the bedroom to throw
his tee shirt and shorts on the bed. He turned to see Cyndi
fidgeting in the bathroom door.
"Hurry up!" she ordered. "I'm not getting any cleaner!"
He laughed and then asked gently, "Are you sure you want to
do this?"
She nodded, and he slid down his briefs. Her eyes were on
his flaccid cock as he straightened. He fought to keep it
flaccid as he grasped his briefs with his toes, flipped them up
into his opposite hand, and tossed them into the laundry hamper
across the room.
"Three points," he said. "Nothing but net."
Cyndi laughed, but didn't move her eyes. He fluttered his
fingers to move her into the bathroom as he approached.
He first shampooed her hair, then sat on the shower floor
while she shampooed his. When he washed her back with his soapy
hands -- was forgetting a wash cloth REALLY an oversight? -- he
had to concentrate to keep from erecting as he washed her pink
little butt and the tops of the backs of her legs. As she
returned the favor, he felt the tips of her fingers brush the
backside of his balls when she washed the inside of his legs. He
diagrammed computer logic circuits in his head to keep from
thinking about it.
He sat facing her as she stood with her legs slightly spread
and her arms away from her body. He scrubbed her little arms,
hands, and fingers with his big soapy hands. She smiled at him
with dimpled cheeks, occasionally meeting his eyes before hers
dropped back to his barely limp beast. She laughed when he
scrubbed her armpits while singing,
"We scrub the pits until they're pink.
"That way we know that they won't stink."
His soapy hands scrubbed down across her flat little chest
and rounded tummy, and he realized that she seemed to be a little
taller and less pudgy than he remembered. And that left him at
the point of no return.
Furiously diagramming logic circuits, he stroked his soapy
hands along her hips and across the fronts of her thighs. Then,
thumbs downward, he scrubbed up the insides of her legs.
The little fingers of either hand slipped into the spaces
between her fat labia and her thighs. There was warmth there.
As his hands moved back and forth, she put her hands on his
shoulders, opened her legs a little wider, and softly sighed.
His right hand rotated and lightly scrubbed the fingertips along
her slit.
"Daddy, that feels gooooooood," she whispered.
Nothing could have prevented The Beast from raising its head
to watch. He started to slide his hand back down her thigh, but
she whispered, "More? Please, Daddy?"
He resumed scrubbing along her slit for a few moments, then
pressed his fingertips against her swelling little mound and
vibrated them, taking care not to get any soap into her where it
might burn.
She stood tensed, eyes closed and head thrown back, humming
a note of pleasure. "It's like riding horsey,'" she murmured,
surprising him with her memory of something he hadn't done with
her in over a year.
He vibrated his fingers against her for another minute,
until she tensed and said, "Daddy? Daddy, I think...." And then
he heard that soft little gasp. "Oh, DADDY!" she cried. And
then she came, her angelic face scrunched up in the sweet agony
of orgasmic bliss. It was the most beautiful sight Jack had ever
seen.
When the orgasm ended she gave an odd little laugh. Her
eyes and mouth formed big circles, as he slowly, softly, slid his
hand off her cunt and down her leg. "Daddy! Is THAT what
inner-courts feels like?"
"Well -- yes. Something like that. Different, but just as
good."
"Oh, WOW! No wonder grownups like doing it for fun!" She
giggled and threw her little arms around his neck in a fierce
hug. Then she pulled back and glanced down. Her head twisted
sideways, and she looked puzzled.
"Daddy, it's all hard again. Did you touch it, too?"
"No, sweetie," he said with a slightly embarrassed smile.
"I think Mister Stiffy is just showing that he liked it when I
played with you."
"Oh!" she said, surprised. "Do you want me to -- to
masser... -- to touch it for you?" She had tried to suppress the
eagerness in her voice.
Jack's own voice was husky. "If you really want to,
sweetheart. I don't mind." <Isn't THAT the understatement of
the year,> he thought. "Do you want me to stand up?"
She nodded, her wide eyes locked on the fascinating new toy
and watching it rise until it was near her eye level. Then she
said the words Jack thought he would never hear any female say to
him in all seriousness: "It's so HUGE!"
He showed her where to wrap her soft little hands around his
throbbing cock. He almost came at her touch. After he cautioned
her about not pulling downward too far, she screwed her angelic
face into a mask of concentration and stroked him. After a
couple of minutes, holding back from cumming to prolong the
sensation of her stroking, he had her soap her hands and slide
them along his lance of love.
"Does it feel good?" she asked, frowning at his cock as she
slid her hands up and down the five and one-half inches of the
thin shaft.
"Oh, sweetheart -- it certainly does," he gasped. "But you
- -- you'd better move -- to the side. Daddy's going to...." The
hollow spot at the base of his dick seemed to flood with jism,
and then it started throbbing. His head jerked back and a
guttural moan squeezed from his throat. His arms flew out to
brace himself against the shower walls, and his whole body
stiffened into one gigantic erection as the world turned red.
Cum roared down the length of the shaft she was caressing
with her warm, soft hands. It shot outward, grazed the side of
her cheek, and hit her ear. She jerked backward in surprise but
did not release her grip, pausing less than a second before
resuming the stroke. The second shot just reached the bottom of
her round chin, and the remainder landed on her tummy.
"WOW!" She gaped at the remaining jism dribbling out the
end of her father's dick as she continued stroking. "That's
NEAT!" She glanced up with a mixed look of awe and joy on her
smiling little face and then turned her attention back to the
last drops oozing out the tip of the rod in her hand.
Stimulation finally became painful. "That's good, honey.
Thanks."
Cyndi stopped rubbing. She held his slowly deflating cock
in one hand while she rinsed the soap from the other. "I did it
right?" she asked, using her clean hand to wipe away the string
of cum tickling her cheek and ear. She pinched some between her
thumb and forefinger and watched with the most serious expression
as she separated her fingers, forming a thick white string of
cum.
"You did it very right, sweetheart. I didn't think I could
shoot that much so soon after -- I mean...."
She sniffed her cum-covered finger and carefully touched it
to the tip of her tongue. Her eyebrows shot up and she looked up
anxiously at his face. "I won't have a baby if I just taste it,
will I?"
He laughed. "No," he said. "You aren't old enough,
anyway." He also explained vasectomies to her, answered her
questions, and then asked one of his own. "Why did you want to
taste it?"
She shrugged and diverted her eyes back to the semi-soft
schlong in her little hand. "I dunno. I know the smell. It was
familiar; 'n' so's the taste." With a slight quiver in her voice
she asked, "Did I do bad?"
He moved slightly to keep the water from falling on her head
as he turned her face upward, scooped the wad from her chin onto
his fingertip, and held it before her lips. "No, sweetheart.
You did VERY good. Very good, indeed."
They played sex games through the weekend. Sunday night, in
preparation for Nancy's return, he told her that they would have
to be sure that her bed looked slept in to keep from arousing the
housekeeper's suspicions. That established a pattern of him
taking her to his bed initially, but returning her to her own
after they had played. Occasionally she remained, and Jack
commented the next morning that she'd had another panic attack.
A week before Christmas, Jack was having his morning coffee
at the kitchen table while he discussed Christmas party plans
with Nancy. She inscribed occasional notes in a precise, elegant
script within a small, battered notebook that looked as old as
she was. When he indicated they were finished, she hooked the
pen into its place, closed the notebook, and set it aside.
Concern showed in her blue eyes. "May I speak freely, Mr.
Martin? Without being fired?" she asked in the soft Alabama
accent that Jack couldn't tell from an Atlanta accent.
"Well, of course, Nancy. You're as much a member of this
family as -- okay, what's wrong?" he asked as he realized she was
struggling with her words.
"Mr. Martin, it's -- um....."
Jack put the coffee cup aside and took the old woman's hands
in his own. "It's okay. Honestly. Tell me, whatever it is."
She struggled another few seconds and then sighed. She
looked at her watch and then at the kitchen clock to avoid his
eyes. "It's not necessary to pretend for my benefit. You don't
have to make Cyndi's bed look slept in just for me. Let her
finish the night in yours."
<Aw, fuck!> "How -- what...?" He didn't know how to ask
without admitting what he'd been doing with his daughter.
"Mr. Martin," Nancy said with a tiny smile, "I'm not so old
and senile that I can't remember what makes those particular
stains on her sheets and yours. I know you aren't forcing her.
You love her too much. Besides, if you were, she wouldn't show
you the love I see when she looks at you."
He inhaled and let it out slowly. "How long have you
known?"
"Oh -- I've been certain since a week or so after I returned
from Tom Ed's. I'm also not so old that I don't remember what it
was like with my father. I loved him the way Cyndi loves you.
That includes all the meanings of love,' too."
"Really?" Jack couldn't picture Nancy at Cyndi's age. For
that matter, he couldn't picture the woman as ever having had
sex, either. Still, if her two children had been virgin births,
he was certain that he would have heard about it on the six
o'clock news.
Nancy interlaced her fingers atop the table and stared
through them into another time. "My father was stronger than any
three other men in the county, yet he was especially gentle with
me. I adored him the same way Cyndi adores you. I would stand
at the window and watch for him to come home so that I could be
the first to greet him.
"I lost interest in sex shortly after my daughter was born.
I started to hope that as she grew older, she could provide my
husband what I could not. I even started preparing him for the
idea. Sue Ellen was almost three when the scarlet fever hit. It
was really bad. The doctor said she would die, but she didn't.
But she also never reached three mentally."
Jack didn't know what to say. He knew she had a daughter,
but she had never spoken of her except for the name. He placed
an understanding hand over Nancy's entwined ones.
"She's in a very nice home in Montgomery. Tom Ed and I go
see her every time I visit him, and he goes to see his sister a
couple of times a week. She remembers him, but not me."
Jack looked for tears, but there were none. "Nancy, I -- I
don't -- is...."
"Oh, I'm okay. I've grown accustomed to it over the past
thirty-odd years. What I was going to say was that Herb couldn't
accept Sue Ellen and finally left. I had to put her in the home
and go to work to support us and pay for her expenses. I never
reclaimed my desire after that, maybe because of that; but I
never forgot how much I enjoyed the times with my father."
Her eyes refocused on the present, on Jack's face. "This is
a wonderful time for Cyndi. She couldn't ask for a better man
than you to teach her while also watching out for her. I will do
all I can to protect you and to protect her. Your secret's safe
with me." She smiled. "And maybe I can answer some questions
for her that a man can't."
She waggled a forefinger at him. "Now, this is YOUR home.
Don't you feel that you have to make allowances for an old woman
housekeeper and her proper sensibilities.' I can guarantee you
that I won't see anything that I haven't seen before."
Jack involuntarily glanced down at his lap.
"In one form or another," she added.
Jack was impressed that she didn't blush.
- --
Continued in Jack Pack Five
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