("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: harper03.txt (MF/f, exh, inc, rough) Authors name: Filthy Fiction (filthyfiction@hotmail.com) Story title : Harper Valley USA - 3 The Promise -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 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. -------------------------------------------------------- Harper Valley USA - 3 The Promise (MF/f, exh, inc, rough) by Filthy Fiction (filthyfiction@hotmail.com) *** 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. The content of this chapter is a bit rough, with a male dominant tone, but still falls within the parameters of consensual sex. 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 and suggestions. Your friends at Filthy Fiction... Story codes: (M/F, M/f, F/f, inc, family, Mdom, rough sex, pantyhose, rimming, cum, spit play, oral, voy, exh, bi, mast, 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 tanktop 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 Shelly cum. 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 at that. "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 chatroom?" "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 is she?" "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 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of the hands of children. They should be outside playing in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 23