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Subject: {ASSM} Story: Harper Valley USA-Chapter 3: No Excuses {Filthy Fiction}
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<1st attachment, "Chapter 3-No Excuses.txt" begin>

Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction containing
graphic descriptions of sexual acts between adults and minors. 
While all of the sex depicted is consensual, the author does not
intend to promote incest or sexual relations with underage
children.  The story is written purely for entertainment purposes
only.  Those who are offended by such material are strongly
encouraged not to read this.

This is the third chapter of what will be a continuing series
depicting the melodramatic sexual adventures of a typical
suburban family.  For those who enjoy pantyhose stories, this
series will focus heavily (though, not totally) on that
particular fetish, as well as the obvious incest themes.

Each chapter will be written predominantly from the point of view
of one member of the family.

We hope you enjoy it.  Please send your comments andsuggestions.

Your friends at Filthy Fiction...

Story codes: (M/F, M/f, F/f, inc, family, teen, Mdom, rough,
pantyhose, rim, cum, spit play, oral, voy, exh, bi, solo, slow,
plot, cons, rom)


Harper Valley USA By Filthy Fiction

Chapter Three

No Excuses



Greg Harper rolled his maroon Infiniti up the driveway, his body
weary from another exhausting day at the office.  His
presentation on third quarter revenues had gone horribly.  Maybe
it was just his nerves over speaking in front of the entire board
of executives.  Then again, it was probably just Elise Ambrose
from marketing who kept crossing her legs and dangling her shoes
through the whole meeting.  Didn't she know what that did to him?
 Apparently not, Greg thought, as he hoisted his six-foot frame
out of his sporty new import. 

How was he supposed to justify why profits were dropping with his
cock pointing to the ceiling like an arrow?  So what if net
revenues were at an all-time low, all Greg wanted to know was who
let this woman sit up front.  Why couldn't she keep her legs
still for more than two seconds?  Didn't she know that he could
hear that swish every time her nylons brushed together?  
Obviously not, Greg thought, as he treaded down the stone
pathway. 

Greg realized his job was in jeopardy, but he was trying hard not
to think about that.  The numbers didn't lie.  Sales were
plummeting.  Someone would have to take the fall.  Middle
management was usually the first to go.  As director of client
relations, Greg figured his head would surely be on the chopping
block.  Still, it hardly mattered as he peacefully approached his
front door.  All he needed was a hot meal, a cold beer and the
sight of his lovely wife and daughter each wearing something
sinful to chase all his blues away.

"Screw the job," said Greg, under his breath.  He smiled as he
silently reminded himself that other men would do anything to
have his life.  In the span of one year, what had started as a
semi-innocent comment to his wife had evolved into the most
exhilarating stage of their whole relationship. 

After 16 years of marriage, Greg considered it a miracle that he
and Shelly were still together.  Most of his male colleagues had
already moved on to their second and third wives.  Greg had no
such foolish notions.  In his mind, he had already married the
perfect woman.  She was strong, loving, supportive and
mind-numbingly sexy.  Her all- American beauty could rival any
country music star, while her hourglass figure could easily
compete with any hot young centerfold.  In the bedroom, (or
anywhere else, for that matter) Shelly got better and wilder with
age.  There was no length to which she would not go just to keep
her man happy.    

As a couple, Greg and Shelly had been swapping partners off and
on practically since college.  The swingers club they had joined
six years before had lost much of its original appeal.  Old
friends had chosen to move on, leaving Greg and Shelly to break
in new members, with whom they often felt little connection. 
They were all just so young, Greg thought, one day, as he lay out
by the pool watching his daughter have a swim.  As he mulled it
over, he realized it wasn't their age that bothered him.  He
didn't care that they were young.  He just hated that they were
so rude and unsophisticated.  Standards for membership had
obviously dropped severely.  Each crop of unwashed rookies got
dumber and more bizarre than the last, with their odd slang, poor
hygiene, numerous piercing and tattoos.  Yet, as Greg approached
40, nothing made him feel more youthful and revitalized than
being around younger people. 

At 14, Greg's blossoming daughter had a trim willowy body that
had only just begun to ripen.  Out of nowhere, her modest chest
had sprouted tits, round and full enough to squeeze with both
hands.  In those days, there was no rule prohibiting him from
masturbating, but Greg knew his wife wouldn't be pleased to
discover that he was secretly jerking off without her.  Even so,
when Tiffany strolled out for an afternoon dip in a tiny blue
tank-top and yellow undies, Greg was helpless to control himself.
 As she languidly rose from the cool crystal waters, and
carelessly dripped all over the patio, her petrified nipples
stood out like tent poles, pitching from her watery T-shirt. 
With no bra holding anything back, her floppy tits jumbled to and
fro until Greg almost went cock- eyed.  He sprang from his lounge
chair, dashed into the bathroom and throttled his raging python
until it spit venom all over the bathroom sink.  As he ran the
faucet to rinse away the evidence, he closed his eyes, took a
long, soothing breath and surrendered to the wicked inspiration
whispering what needed to be done. 

After another day watching his blissfully ignorant, yet
lusciously pubescent daughter prance around wearing next to
nothing, Greg only needed 24 hours to work up his nerve.  He
tested his wife with an off-handed remark about Tiffany's obvious
development.  Shelly was far too smart and way too filthy in her
own mind to miss what her husband was implying.  The hungry leer
in his lusty green eyes told her exactly what she had to do. 
With no shock or shame whatsoever, she cunningly set her plan in
motion. 

Tiffany wanted new clothes for her first year of high school, so
Shelly already had the perfect ruse to begin her seduction.  Most
mothers don't take their daughters back-to- school shopping at
Victoria's Secret.  Still, after buying a half-dozen crop tops,
miniskirts and low-rider jeans, Shelly felt her daughter could
use some more grown-up undergarments.  Shelly had Tiffany try on
several different kinds of bras, all with matching thongs. 
Tiffany didn't look terribly confident at first, but as Shelly
heaped on the praise, Tiffany slowly forgot everything and
started pretending she was a supermodel. 

It was in that dressing room, as Tiffany modeled a purple mesh
bra and panty set, where Shelly made the first move.  Greg
remembered Shelly later describing how easy it had been.  The
first kiss was rather awkward, stiff really.  Then, Tiffany said
something like, "Is this really happening?" to which Shelly
answered with a second kiss that lasted for several moist and
tender minutes. 

A week later, they rented a suite with a hut tub and a bottle of
champagne.  Shelly let Tiffany drink alcohol off her breasts.  A
week after that, Greg joined them for the first time.  Tiffany
wasn't ready for intercourse.  Greg didn't try to force her.  He
enjoyed seeing her gawking expression as she boggled to figure
out how she would even manage to get her hands around his beefy
slab.  Shelly coached her so patiently.  Tiffany soaked up every
word.  A week later, she was drinking her father's cum.  A week
after that, Greg finally broke her cherry.  Once Jonathan had
been lured into the fray, everything changed.  Greg and Shelly
discovered the joy of swinging at home. 

Greg reflected on all of this as he opened the front door of his
two-story peach-and-white house.  He thought of Shelly, with her
sunlit blonde hair, vivid blue eyes, large pillowy breasts and
sculpted marble legs.  Then, he pictured the rousing image of his
young malleable daughter, with her pearly smile, balsa wood
complexion and lean wiry legs.  If Shelly was already the perfect
woman, Greg thought to himself, it was just a matter of time
before Tiffany would become her twin.

As he stepped in, Greg noted his son on the floor with his eyes
glued to the television.  He set down his briefcase, slipped off
his shoes and loped over to sofa as he loosened his necktie.

"Hey, Dad," Jonathan said, slouched on the floor, playing Tekken
or Mortal Kombat or something like that.  His father never knew
for sure.

Greg flopped on the couch and smirked as one computer-animated
character pulverized another.  He was disappointed that he hadn't
smelled anything cooking when he came in.

"Where's your mother?" Greg said abruptly.

"In the shower," his son answered, never turning his head.  "With
Tiffany."

Greg nodded.  His stomach would have to be patient.  He noticed
that Shelly had left her high heels behind.  He picked one up,
held the black leather shoe under his nose and took a sniff.  His
dick stirred in his slacks.

"So, how was school?" he asked.  Jonathan just shrugged.

"Okay, I guess.  Still haven't got a good peek at my teacher's
panties."

"No?" Greg said, with genuine interest.  "How hard have you been
trying?"

"Pretty hard," his son said.  "This morning, I saw her walking up
the stairs, so I followed her to the third floor.  I almost got a
good look.  I'm pretty sure they were pink, but it was hard to
tell." 

"Was her skirt really that short?"

"Uh huh," Jonathan nodded readily.  "Just like Mom wears.  I'm
pretty sure it's against school rules, but she does it all the
time."

"Hmm," said Greg, with increasing interest.  "What's her name
again?"

"Miss Collins," Jonathan said.  "She's my English teacher.  Kind
of young, short, reddish- brown hair.  Small tits, but really
pretty.  Like that lady on that home show Mom watches."

"Trading Spaces," Greg replied.

"Yeah," said Jonathan.  "She looks a lot like her."

Greg paused.  The thought of Paige Davis hardened his cock
completely.  If this teacher looked anything like that, then a
parent-teacher conference would have to be arranged promptly. 
When Greg realized he was lost in thought, he blurted out the
first question that came to his head.

"Nice legs?"

Jonathan thought for a second.  "Not as nice as Mom's," he
answered.  "But she does like to wear short skirts and tight
jeans.  I've never seen her in pantyhose though.  Maybe she
doesn't like them."

"Maybe not," said Greg, almost whispering to himself.  "But
people change."

By then, Jonathan had already tuned his father out.  Greg stood
up and started his weary stroll down the hall.  The sound of
rushing water grew louder as Greg entered the bedroom.  His
daughter's clothing was strewn all about the floor: red top, red
skirt, white socks and sneakers, along with his wife's coral
miniskirt.  There were voices coming from the master bathroom. 
He didn't recognize words, only moans and whispers.   He followed
the noises that led him toward the shower.  He didn't bother to
remove his shoes, as he felt no need to conceal his presence.  He
gripped the curtain and slid it all the way back.

His wife stood with her legs spread and her hands flat against
the wall.  Water sprayed against her angled back, then streamed
over her naked ass.  Her wet matted pantyhose had been ripped
wide open.  Her butt was completely exposed.  His daughter knelt
below, both hands spreading her mother's buns.  Sparkling water
trickled down the narrow crack between his wife's cheeks.  His
daughter leaned forward to let the water fill up her mouth.  She
pressed her lips flat against the little rosebud and spit right
on it.  Her tongue chased every drop.  His wife threw her head
back and groaned as her hand slapped the wet tile.

Shelly and Tiffany were well aware that Greg was watching. 
Shelly was too lost in her own pleasure to acknowledge him right
away.  She seemed to take some unspoken delight in ignoring and
performing for him at the same time.  Tiffany also chose not to
speak.  She greeted him with a devilish curl from the corner of
her mouth.  Her blue eyes twinkled as her tongue snaked around
her mother's asshole.

"Is this is a private party?" said Greg, leering down at his
daughter's wet face.

"Yes, very private," his daughter answered, smiling.  "Strictly
family."

"Sounds perfect," Greg said, with a short glance over to his
wife.  Shelly grinned.  Greg lowered his head toward Tiffany. 
"Is there a dress code?"

"Nope," his daughter answered, face level with his crotch.   "I
just need to see your invitation."

Greg fixed his eyes on Shelly as he casually reached for his
zipper.  She turned, facing him, so the water now trickled off
her breasts.  She pawed at her own body, one hand squeezing her
tits, while the other sank to her pussy, fervently rubbing her
itchy clit.     

Tiffany knelt reverently by the edge of the tub.  She anxiously
leaned toward her imposing father and breathlessly followed the
calm descent of his steady hand as he carefully unlocked those
jagged metal teeth.  Her chest sharply heaved on sight of his
monstrous cock, head flaring and veins bulging with menace as it
savagely reached through his open fly.  Her shoulders slumped,
her eyes dimmed and her mouth slowly yawned in submission.

"Here's my invitation," said Greg, using his pelvic muscles to
taunt his daughter as his cock bounced and flexed away from her
open and all-too-eager mouth.  "But you know something," he added
tauntingly.  "I'm not sure you deserve it." 

Tiffany quivered.  "Why not?"

"For one thing," Greg mildly explained.  "You're not wearing
pantyhose, so you've broken rule number four." 

Tiffany bowed shamefully.  Greg yanked her by the hair.  Tiffany
squeaked as her head snapped back. 

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Greg snarled through
gritted teeth.  Tiffany's frightened pupils jumped straight out.
Greg pinned her head back and sneered over her.  "I work too hard
at that god damn office to come home and have to repeat myself
every fucking week.  Now let me ask you a question," he growled.
"Are you listening?"

The stranglehold on her wet ponytail restrained her from nodding.
 She mumbled softly, "Mm hmm."  Greg chafed.  He expected direct
answers to direct questions.  A hard slap ripped across her face.
 Tiffany yelped.  The sting made her eyes water.  Shelly held her
breath.  Greg slit his eyelids and slowly enunciated.

"I said...are you listening?"

Tiffany spoke up.  "Yes.  Yes, sir, I'm listening."

"Were you hoping to suck my cock tonight?"

"Yes," she said truthfully.  "Like always.  I love your cock,
Daddy.  You know I love your cock."

Greg paused.  "Were you hoping to drink my cum, too?"

"Yes!" Tiffany cried.  "All of it, Daddy.  All of your hot cum."

"Really?" He said, hoisting his thick shaft and dragging it
across her lips.  "Then let me ask you this."  Tiffany closed her
eyes.  She dared not stick out her tongue no matter how good the
warm head felt against her moist lips.  "What makes your Daddy
cum more than anything?"

Tiffany quickly answered, "Pantyhose.  You like when I wear
pantyhose."

 "Good," her father replied.  "I'm glad we understand each other.
 So why aren't you wearing them for me?"

"Because..." Tiffany started in her whiny voice.  A second slap
scorched her reddened cheek. 

 "No excuses!" Greg blasted.  Shelly stepped forward.

"Honey, maybe I can ex..."

"Not now, Shelly," Greg said.  "This isn't about you.  This is
about Tiffany being accountable for her own actions.  When
Jonathan breaks the rule, we call him on it.  This is no
different."

 Shelly stepped back.  Perhaps, she felt guilt over smothering
her son earlier.  For whatever reason, she kept her mouth shut. 
She watched as Greg proceeded with his unique method of slut
training.

"Now," he said, firmly scowling in his daughter's teary face. 
"What are you going to do when you leave this bathroom?"

Tiffany raised her chin and sniffled.  "Put on some pantyhose,
Daddy."

"Again!"

"Put on some pantyhose, Sir!"

"Why?"

"So you'll feed me lots of cum."

"What else?"

"And call me your little pantyhose slut."

"Do you like it when I call you that?"

"More than anything, Daddy."

"Tell me why."

"Because that's what I am, Daddy."

"Excellent," Greg said.  "Now, here.  Put this fucking thing in
your mouth."

Tiffany promptly dropped her jaw wide open.  Greg watched as
Tiffany struggled to fasten her contorted lips around the bloated
head and then gradually inch-worm her way down the daunting
length of his shaft.  Greg wanted his daughter to feel it as her
vacant mouth was slowly impregnated by the hulking girth of his
throbbing hard sperm pump. 

As Greg began sawing his hips back and forth, Tiffany held still
as the bumpy foreskin scraped against her delicate tongue.  Her
humid mouth instinctively flooded with sloppy drool.  She
whorishly slathered his throat-clogging sausage with nasty
egg-white phlegm.  Foamy spit bubbles spewed from her bottom lip,
issuing like lava down his jagged shaft, then hanging from his
hairy nuts in sticky gossamer webs.  Tiffany let all her spit
dribble out, spilling and dripping all over her glistening tits.
 It wasn't that Greg told her not her swallow.  She was simply
sucking him exactly the way she'd been taught, the way her mother
showed her. 

She lowered her mouth further down the shaft, pushing herself to
the choking point.  She gurgled and gagged repeatedly, but never
let up.  Tears streamed down both sides of her face.  Just when
Greg thought she would have to come up for air, he felt the loose
swivel of her frantic revolving head, combined with delirious
moans.  Her fluttering tongue tingled against his sensitive
glans.  Her mouth overflowed.  She fucked her own throat like a
whore needs cash, letting the neglected strands of stringy saliva
wiggle off her chin, snap and then splatter on the floor.  Not
once did the girl swallow.  Her twisting mouth vacuumed.  Greg
bucked when he felt her head bob, swivel and bob.

"Ohhh shit!" he groaned, throwing his head back with new
appreciation.  "Fuck yeah!  That's right, Angel," he told her. 
"That's my good little slut.  Keep sucking that cock for Daddy! 
Keep it nice and wet!  God damn, that's good!" He looked up and
saw his wife staring intently.  "She's really starting to take
after you, honey."

Shelly smiled.  She watched as Tiffany slavered all over her
father's thick schlong.  There was pride in her eyes, seeing the
way her daughter had obviously been studying her form.  A proper
blowjob had to be messy, Shelly preached.  A real woman relished
having her mouth stuffed with cock.  Fucking a dry mouth was like
fucking a dry pussy.  Wetter was always better.  

Greg also thought about wetness.  He wondered if Shelly could
distinguish between the waters streaming from the shower and the
wetness leaking from her runny cooze.  She set one foot on the
side of the tub, then leaned back and let the surging water
strike her directly on the clit.  She bit hard on her bottom lip
as a searing climax violently ripped through her.  Greg watched
as she quietly shuddered through each rollicking tremor, short
breaths halting from her open mouth.  As her eyes finally crept
open, Greg stood there mesmerized.  She held his gaze with the
bewitching mystery of her hazy blue eyes. Greg had no power to
look away.  As much as he craved his young slutty daughter, there
was something magical about his wife that no one else could
match.  Greg always felt this way whenever he watched Shellycum.

As Shelly came down from her orgasmic high, she reached over and
set her hand on Tiffany's head.  Tiffany kept working her
father's meat, rocking her head back and forth, slurping and
gurgling with pleasure.

"She's definitely a fast learner," Shelly said, reaching to turn
off the water.  As the shower stopped, Shelly turned to see
Tiffany's lips firmly glued to the head of Greg's shovel-headed
knob.  She snatched Tiffany by the hair and wrenched her
daughter's head back, smiling obscenely as Tiffany pouted from
the sudden deprivation.

"I just thought you could use some more spit," Shelly said,
pooling warm fluid in her half-opened mouth, then feeding the
gooey line down to Tiffany's wagging tongue in one long, wiggly
rope.  Tiffany flattened her long pink tongue as her mother's
drool settled to form a nice lukewarm puddle.  She held it there
briefly, then stirred it and mixed it with her own juices.  She
spewed the whole glob in the palm of her hand and curled her
tight fist around the bulbous crown of her father's distended
cock.       

Warm sincerity echoed through her long, fluttering lashes.  In
her meekest tone, Tiffany gazed up at her father and begged
sweetly, "Daddy, can I drink your cum now?"

Greg frowned at his daughter and answered, "No."  He then
snatched his wife, bent her over and stabbed his cock through her
sloppy wet gash.  Shelly folded at the waist, grabbed her ankles
and hollered as Greg branded her with his scalding hot poker. 
Greg skewered his nine-inch rod all the way through her snug
pussyhole.  He reared back, grabbed Shelly by her
pantyhose-covered thighs and crammed his thick cock balls deep up
her narrow cunt.

"Unnghh!" Shelly grunted from the force of his hard penetration.
"Oh, my God!  Your cock is so fucking hard today, baby!  Mmmmm,
yes!  Pound me with it, honey!  Pound me with that hard cock!"

Greg obliged.  He held tight and threw his whole back into it,
thrusting with full force, as thighs noisily slapped against
thighs.  He peered down at Tiffany and hissed spitefully as he
brutally grudge-fucked her mother.

"Do you see this, honey?" He snarled.  "Do you see what I'm doing
to your mother?  This is how a good slut gets fucked.  I bet you
wish I was fucking you instead of her right now, don't you?"

Tiffany nodded desperately.  "Will you, Daddy?  Will you fuck
me?"

"Hell no!" Greg shouted.  "If you want to be Daddy's slut, then
you have to obey Daddy's rules.  Only good sluts get fucked. 
Now, sit there and watch."

Tiffany could only do as she was told.  She sat up on the edge of
the tub, with one foot in and one foot out.  She leaned back
against the wall, moistened her right fingers and placed her hand
between the spread of her naked thighs.  She slowly circled her
flattened fingers against the nub of her pink clit.  Her left
hand moved across her bare chest where she pulled and worried her
jutting right nipple.  Her rotating fingers pressed harder and
rubbed faster as she watched her mother get repeatedly impaled by
her father's hammering tool.

Greg fixed his harsh focus on Tiffany.  His glaring eyes were
meant to remind her of her place.  He may have been powerless at
work, but no one would ride roughshod over him at home.  Clearly,
his wife understood this as she braced her hands up against the
opposite wall and called out for Greg to fuck her and ram her
slutty hole, begging to have her body completely abused.  That
was what he liked.  This was his family.  Shelly was his wife. 
Tiffany was his daughter.  They belonged to him.  Letting
Jonathan fuck them too was simply Greg's way of instilling his
son with enough confidence to run his own family likewise, once
he became a father. 

"Daddy," Tiffany whined, as if begging to open her Christmas
presents a day early.  "Will you please let me drink your cum?  I
promise I'll never take off my pantyhose again."

"What made you take them off in the first place?"

Tiffany chewed her bottom lip.  "They, umm..." She couldn't find
the right words.  If her father was this mad about her not
wearing pantyhose, how would he react to knowing how close she
had come to breaking her promise?  Finally, she answered, "I
spilled soda on them, so I had to take them off.  They were all
sticky."

"You should be more careful," he said.  "We spend lots of money
so you can have nice clothes.  But that's still no excuse.  You
could have put on another pair."

Tiffany sighed.  "I wanted to," she explained.  "But Mom said..."
She paused, taking a moment to reconsider.  "You're right," she
said.  "I should have put on another pair."  She left it atthat.

"Now, you're learning," Greg said, slowly nodding.  "Are you
ready to swallow my load?"

Tiffany lit up like neon.  "Oh, God yes!" She panted.  Her
hairless muff slurped in two fingers.  Greg elated at the sheer
desperation on her hungry face.  Shelly obviously responded too.
Greg could feel the muscles jolting as his wife's clamping pussy
walls squeezed and contracted around his cunt-stretching cock. 
He pumped her until her screams and moans drowned out every other
sound. 

Shelly wailed through her thunderous climax, head dropping and
arms thrusting from her sides. The balls of her fists refused to
open as she strained to make her clawing fingers spread apart. 
She sprang up and pressed hard against Greg's chest.  Her head
tossed over his shoulder.  Greg mauled her breasts and pinched
both nipples to the aching point.  Shelly gasped, arching her
back even harder.  With her jaw hanging open, she quaked and
quivered as another powerful wave shook her whole body, rushing
through her pointed fingers and toes.         
    Greg hastily pulled out and lunged toward his waiting
daughter.  She welcomed his honey-dripping cock with the moist
tip of her flickering tongue.  The smile she flashed clearly
proved how much she enjoyed the flavor of her mother's pussy.

"Make me cum in your mouth," Greg ordered.

Tiffany looked equal to the task.  She hawked up a thick gob of
saliva, spat on her father's cock, then gripped the shaft and
rigorously pumped it in her small squeezing fist.  Her ravenous
blue eyes and warm puppy-dog pants reminded Greg how much his
little angel worshipped her father above all.  The mere sight of
his fully engorged man-meat melted away any hint of self-control
his daughter might have had.  While Jonathan's seven-inches was
nice for his age, the glorious stature of Greg's vein-laden,
crimson- headed, blood-swollen organ clearly set him in a class
by himself.  Through her soft, humble and entreating blue eyes,
Greg knew his penis wasn't just larger than life.  To Tiffany, it
was life. 

As Greg felt her tiny hands rushing up and down his pole, doing
all the shallow pumps and sudden twists that her mother showed
her, he looked down and saw his baby girl seal her pink candy
lips to the tip of his cock.  Softly, the seal opened and Greg
groaned as his daughter warmly engulfed five inches in her
slippery mouth.  Her lashes fluttered as her blue eyes lifted in
search of approval.  She suckled him sweeter than an infant. 
Greg's balls ignited.

"Oh sweetheart," he moaned.  "You are a good girl.  Daddy's
slutty little girl.  Oh fuck!  I'm about to cum!  Yes! Yes!  Yes!
 Ohhh shit! Right in your pretty mouth, Angel!  It's what you
wanted, huh, sweetie?  Drink it!  Ohhh fuck!  Drink Daddy's cum!
Now, baby! OHHH  FUCK! NOW!  YES!  NOW!"  Greg shouted.

Tiffany clamped her thighs together as she trembled from the
orgasm that hit her unexpectedly.  Her mouth gaped open as Greg
unloaded in a hot bubbling torrent of lumpy spunk.  His cum
spouted in clumps so chunky and thick that Tiffany had to chew it
before she could funnel it down her throat.

Greg placed his hand on his daughter's head, flinching and
groaning as Tiffany finished the job.  Her dainty hands didn't
stop stroking until Greg could see cum leaking from the corners
of her mouth.  Even then, she just used her fingers to scoop up
the creamy butter and shove it back where it belonged.  She
beamed with a daughter's pride as she leaned back and calmly
ingested Greg's tremendous wad in one smooth and rapturous gulp.

"My God," Shelly said, blinking from the other end of the tub. 
"I'm not sure even I could do that." 

Tiffany giggled.  "It's only because Daddy made me wait so long
for it.  Plus, you still haven't made dinner."

"Maybe we should eat out tonight," Greg suggested.  "How do you
feel about pizza?"

"Did I hear something about pizza?" Jonathan said, as he suddenly
appeared in the bathroom doorway.  "Hurry up, you guys.  I'm
starving!"


*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *


The next morning, Tiffany woke up in her parent's bed, nestled
comfortably between her naked mother and father.  It was
Saturday.  She checked the clock.  It read half past seven.  She
crawled out over her mother, as carefully as she could manage. 
She found her father's work shirt on the side of the bed and
quickly pulled it on.  The smell of his cologne made her smile
and think fondly of her dear old man.  She turned to see him
snoozing peacefully, with his firm pecs, his sexy goatee and his
full head of chestnut brown hair.  If only she had met him when
he was her age, Tiffany thought, then maybe she could have
married him and been the mother of his children.  Then again, to
go back and change the past would mean never knowing the
forbidden thrill of getting fucked by her own father.

Her face was still sore from the mark he'd left on her tender
skin.  It didn't bother her though.  She knew he was right. 
There was no excuse for not following the rules.  Everyone
understood their role.  Greg never failed to feed her as much cum
as she wanted.  Dressing properly was the least she could do. 
She thought of this as she saw herself in her parent's
full-length mirror, admiring the sheen of the coffee brown
pantyhose she had worn to dinner the previous night.

Tiffany walked down the hall, then turned up the stairs, heading
to her bedroom.  She heard tapping sounds coming from her
brother's bedroom which was just beside hers.  She peeked in to
see what Jonathan was doing.  Her brother was at his desk,
wearing plaid boxers, typing on his computer.  Tiffany walked
right over, curled her arms around his shoulders and kissed his
cheek.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Talking to this guy from Oregon," he explained, staring at the
screen.  "Are you still mad at me for bugging you about Adam
yesterday?"

Tiffany rubbed her soft hands up and down his bare chest.  "I
should be," she answered.  "But you're just so darn cute, I can't
seem to stay mad at you for very long."

"That's good," he said, enjoying her touch.  "I hate it when you
hold a grudge.  So, what's up?  Are you still doing the car wash
today?"

"Uh huh," she said, reading the screen over his shoulder.  "Is
this a chat room?"

"Yeah, it's pretty cool, too.  I talk to people all over the
world," he said, typing away.  "So who's going to be there
besides you and Shannon?"

"Why?  So you can drool over all my friends?"  Tiffany said, with
a smirk.  "Don't you get enough sex at home?"

"Sure," said Jonathan.  "But Dad always says that you have to
plan for a rainy day."

Tiffany rolled her eyes.  "Give me a break, Johnny.  Who isshe?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the girl you want to meet at the car wash.  I
know you too well."

"Fine," he huffed, fingers pausing as he cocked his head
sideways.  "It's Ashley, okay.  I didn't want to say anything
because I know you think she's a bitch, but I can't help it. 
She's fucking hot."

Tiffany laughed.  "Ashley," she snickered.  "Are you high?  She's
completely out of your league.  She only dates college guys with
nice cars and lots of cash.  There's no way she'd even look at
you."

"Well, I know that," said Johnny.  "But she did pick you for the
squad.  So she must like you enough to trust your opinion.  I was
just thinking you could put in a good word for me."

"A good word," Tiffany repeated, standing upright.  "Like what? 
`Hey, Ashley, why don't you go out with my little brother? He's a
really good fuck.' "

"Um, yeah, something like that."

"You really must be on something."  Tiffany said, shaking her
head.  "If anyone at school ever found out about you and me, we
would both be up shit's creek.  I'm not about to risk that, just
so you can hook up with Ashley Summers."

"C'mon, Tiff.  I'm not stupid," said Johnny.  "Of course, we
can't just let anyone know about our family.  All we need to do
is get Ashley in a situation that she wouldn't  want other people
to know about.  If everyone has something to hide, then everyone
stays quiet.  Don't you watch cable?"

"Not those gangster shows you watch," Tiffany sniffed.  "But you
might be on to something.  So let's say that I do arrange a
little get-together between you and her.  What's in it for me?"

"Hmm," Jonathan pondered.  "Let's say, I'll do all of your chores
for a week and give you half of my allowance. 

Tiffany answered, "I don't want your money.  But how about doing
all my chores for a week, plus my math homework for two weeks.and
you have to lick my pussy whenever I want."

Jonathan thought for a second.  "Okay, that's cool.  Although
that last part I'd do anyway."

"I know," Tiffany said smiling.  "I'm not trying to make this
completely unpleasant.  Besides, I'm kind of attracted to Ashley
myself.  If this works out, we could both have some fun."

"Hmmm," Jonathan muttered, smiling with approval, as he rubbed
his hands together.  "Now this is getting juicy."

To be continued...



Copyright@2003 Filthy Fiction

Send comments to filthyfiction@hotmail.com


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