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All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old
Shortly past 5 a.m. Aurora broke over her namesake city and flew west, between Boulder and Mt. Evans, toward the Flat Tops Wilderness, announcing the coming day. As dawn’s variegated twilight transformed with the rising sun, light fell through the window panes upon the sleeping McFees’ faces. Daphne woke first with the warming rays and stretched her left arm beneath the thick bedclothes. She was spooned tight against her father, Mitch, and her extended hand naturally reached for and found his invariable morning erection. Daphne smiled, curled her fingers and languidly stroked the mighty stiffness from its soft nose to the curly forest at its base. She re-opened her hand and covered his relaxed, refilled, heavy testicles with her fingers while her rigid thumb pressed firmly at the junction of his root and scrotum.
“Wakey, wakey, Daddy Snaky,” Daphne buzzed her lips against Mitch’s neck in the hollow behind his left ear. He rolled over, against her warm mature globes and closed his right hand over her left on his package. Her soft hand squeezed within his palm onto his firm eggs. She inhaled deeply, lifting her breasts against his pectorals and smelling his manliness. Daphne kissed his lips and stroked upward with both their hands on his pole.
Fully awake, Mitch slid his left arm between the flannel bedsheet and Daphne’s ribcage, then curled her hard onto his torso, mashing his mouth forcefully against her pliant lips and abrading her chin with his overnight stubble. “Nnnnhhh,” Daphne moaned, then pulled back her face. “I love your rough morning beard, Daddy,” she sighed, as she resumed their hard kiss and circled his cock’s head with her thumb pad, still wearing his hand like a glove.
Mitch groaned and pushed his right hand between Daphne’s thighs, wedging his way to her bushy treasure. He inserted his first two fingers edgewise in her seeping slit and wiggled them upward. She sucked in a gasp, through Mitch’s mouth, from his very lungs, as he nipped her swollen clit with his stubby fingertips. Mitch massaged her sandy motte with his thumb, keeping pressure on her button. Daphne gasped again, breaking their kiss, and jutted her hips forcefully. Her slick pussy split. swallowing Mitch’s remaining digits. He pinched her pubis as his ring finger and pinky drove into her.
“OHHHHH! Uhhhnnn! OHHHH!” Daphne exclaimed when her dam broke and her cunt flooded around her father’s hand.
Mitch chuckled and rolled another 90 degrees to his left, carrying his daughter until she was pancaked beneath him, still caught in the throes of her orgasm. With no lost momentum he broke her grip on his dick and gimbaled his hips, stuffing his stout staff into her steaming twat. His elbows propped his chest over hers and his corded forearms crushed her tits to her ribs as he braced his hands on the tops of her shoulders and pulled her entire body downward, onto his spike, with every upward thrust. “HYUH! HYUH! HYUH!” He snarled with each savage stab.
“Ghunh! Ghunh! Ghunh!” Daphne grunted gutturally, happily helpless in Mitch’s iron grip. Her climax continued, unabated and increasing throughout his assault. She chirped and yipped as she rolled her hips and hiked her ass, meeting force with force.
With a final lunge, Mitch arched his back and welded Daphne to his groin. “HYYUUUNNHH!” His primal scream bounded from wall to ceiling to floor in the cavern. The echoes clashed while his climactic cataract splashed in Daphne’s inner chamber.
“YESSSS! Oh God, YESSS!” Daphne joined the cacophony as yet another rolling climax crested. “DAAAAdddy! Uhhhnnn! OHHHH!” She shivered and trembled beneath Mitch as he continued powerfully pumping his loins until his tempest was past.
Mitch withdrew from his daughter. His rampant cock, in the slanting morning sun, glistened with Daphne’s juice and dripped left-behind gobs of his seed from its weeping eye. Daphne scooted up the mattress and leaned forward at her waist, grabbing Mitch’s buttocks in her hands. Bending her head, she pulled on her father and crowed, “‘Waste not, want not!'” as she sunk her mouth over the fat red headed cock and gleaned the remains. Satisfied, she released his fleshy lozenge and grinned. “Thank you, Daddy!” She said, hugging his hard flat stomach to the side of her face and kneading her fingers in his glutes. “I’ll go make coffee and put somethin’ else in my OTHER oven!” She laughed heartily at her own joke as she scrambled off the bed and pulled a fresh dress from the wardrobe.
While Mitch pulled on his socks, jeans, boots and shirt, Daphne walked to Clementine’s niche. She knocked courteously bostancı escort on the 18-year old girl’s thick wooden door but did not wait for a response to open. Clementine still lay naked in her bed, however she was not asleep. Or, if she was, she wakened with her mother’s rap. “Good Mornin’ Momma!” she called brightly, “Is Mr. Engel still here?”
“Good Mornin’ yourself, slug-a-bed! Have you already gotten the cook stove goin’ and then gone back to bed?” Daphne replied. “And, of COURSE, Mr. Engel is still here… why shouldn’t he be?”
“No, Momma,” Clementine answered, “I kinda overslept… Poppa taught me something new and it was REALLY HARD… I guess we finished but after I fell asleep I didn’t wake up until just now…I’m sorry.” She got up from her bed, not realizing the dried up drippings on her inside thighs left visible tracks like snails in a garden. “I thought maybe I had dreamed Mr. Engel and that’s why I wondered was he still here…” she explained in a soft voice as she walked around the bed to her wardrobe.
Daphne noted not only the pussy juice streaks but also darker reddish-brown blood stains trailing from the bottom of Clementine’s bald pussy. “So THAT’S what Mitch meant when he said ‘she’s not a little girl anymore.'” Daphne thought to herself. She stepped up behind Clementine and pressed her daughter’s bare back against her bosom and stomach, reaching around and enfolding her with her love. “Don’t fret about that, honey,” she soothed, stroking the teen’s soft pale hair. “I know just what you mean… sometimes Poppa just wears a body out. Why don’t you go sponge yourself in a pool and then roust Mr. Engel. He slept in the tack room last night. While you’re about it, collect me some eggs, and look down the path a-ways and see if there are any ripe strawberries or blueberries handy. I’ll take care of the stove and fix us all a nice breakfast when you get back.” She kissed the top of her initiated daughter’s head. “Can do, Clemmy?”
Clementine purred with the attention and bounced on her toes when she answered, “Oh, Momma! Can DO!” When Daphne walked out of the room Clementine was quaking like an aspen as she stood contemplating which of her three frocks she would wear to wake up Mr. Engel. Finally deciding, she slipped it over her head, shook and smoothed it over her curves, then pushed her feet into a sturdy pair of sandals. Ten minutes later, Clementine skipped up the passageway from the baths, across the Big Room, and out the cabin door, floating on air.
The sun was still partially hidden behind the tall trees on the other side of the river and cast their long shadows across the clearing as Clementine scampered along the beaten path from the Cavern Mine cabin to the lean-to. The old draft horse gelding, Charlie, nickered to the teen as he watched her approach. When her silhouette appeared in the doorframe, Charlie snorted and stamped a massive hoof. Immediately Engel’s mule guffawed and his saddle horse kicked at a rail. Everyone was hungry. Clementine, afraid the animals would wake up Mr. Engel before she could, scurried down the aisle and tossed three hay flakes to the stock. She sighed with relief as they each pushed their noses into the sweet grass and snuffled happily.
Returning to the lean-to entrance, Clementine edged open the tack room door. Poppa had hung it on thick reinforced leather strap hinges and it made no noise as she peeked carefully into the dim room, lit only by the scant ambient early daylight filtering through a high slatted window. Royce Engel was, in fact, still asleep.
Clementine gasped a sudden intake of air and covered her mouth as she stared wide-eyed at the recumbent visitor. She did not know he was 6′ 1″ tall or weighed 195 pounds, but she readily observed his athletic build and noted his ankles and bare feet extended beyond the end of the cot. His eyes were closed and his head, with its shock of dark brown hair, was pillowed on his bent left arm. His right arm crossed his naked chest and angled over his stomach to his left hip, as if he was preparing to draw a sword. She saw all this because during the night Engel had thrown his top blanket off and it lay on the floor beside his bed, half covering his boots and clothes. She also saw the sword he may have been attempting to draw, but his hand had overreached. His long stiff cock, extending from its hide in his boxer shorts, lay flat straight and true against his gut, with its spade head nudging his wrist.
Clementine had only ever seen Poppa’s penis and, as nice as she thought it was, it was nowhere near as magnificent as what she beheld now. Poppa’s cock was gnarled, discolored with popping ümraniye escort bayan blue veins and had a great fat head which, when he was hard, was red and angry looking. Mr. Engel, however, had a wonderfully sleek smooth dick, with only a few wrinkles at the chin of its helmet, which was, itself, a much more pleasant and happier looking purple-brown color.
Clementine remembered how, despite having seen Charlie’s thing, and learning from her mother all about where babies came from, she had still been frightened on her last birthday when she was allowed, for the first time, to sit in the same mineral pool with her father and he had showed her how big his penis could get if it was rubbed correctly. Of course, after a whole month of regularly playing with it, Poppa’s dick was not fearsome at all. And, after last night, she wanted it inside her all the time, if she could get it.
Still, being suddenly confronted with the vision of Mr. Engel’s erect cock, Clementine could not help her wondering awe. She stepped into the tack room and knelt on the Mr. Engel’s piled blanket and clothes. Cautiously, she advanced her right hand and hovered over Royce’s belly, directly above his unwitting plum. She double-checked his eyelids for any flutter. She watched his chest steadily rise and fall. She inhaled and held her breath. “Touch it!” A voice in her head screamed. Gingerly, Clementine placed the tip of her index finger, with no more pressure than a feather’s fall, on Royce’s cock, exactly where its soft top joined its rigid stalk. It lurched. She pulled back. Royce slept.
A second time, more boldly, Clementine touched Engel. “Don’t tickle!” yelled her voice. She flattened her index and middle fingers and lightly drug their tips, tracing the great vein from his glans to the bottom of the vent in his shorts where his cock disappeared. His dick twitched and rose from his abs, then lay down again. Clementine saw his hidden balls roll beneath his boxers’ thin material. She reversed her hand and pushed through the open slit, cupping his hairy nutsack, protecting its treasures from harm. His eggs were big, like Poppa’s, but seemed heavier.
Glancing again at Mr. Engel’s face, and judging him still asleep, Clementine risked a kiss. “Taste him!” her voice cried. Turning her body perpendicular to the cot, she gently slid her hand up his dick, as she had done so often for her father. Again it lifted its head with her touch. She encircled its neck and bent her face close. A sun ray, piercing through the window, warmed her left cheek. He smelled so good, pungent and manly. She grinned as, before her eyes, a drop of juice appeared in the little slit. “Hooray!” She thought. “Just like Poppa!” She dabbed the pre-cum with her tongue tip. The cock hopped like a cricket, bouncing onto her open lips, practically jumping into her mouth by itself. Clementine closed her lips around the head, coated it with her spit and savored it with her small swabbing tongue.
Suddenly Clementine was aware Royce’s hand was not resting on his stomach, but rather, on top of her head, braiding its fingers into her hair and kneading her scalp. He was groaning, too. She did not concern herself with whether he was conscious. She was too busy earnestly applying herself to the lessons Poppa had been teaching. She felt Mr. Engel’s dick pulse in her hand and throb in her mouth. She heard the same noises of pleasure and wanted to hear the same noise of satisfaction and capture his release. Clementine strenuously sucked the top of the cock while stroking its shaft with conviction until, finally, she heard a gratified “Hyuhnn!” Royce’s hot salty semen bounced off her tongue and palate. She sealed her lips tight about the rim of Engel’s mushroom and slurped as his dick burped shot after shot. When he had stopped twitching and was quiet in her mouth, she popped him from her lips, scavenging the last bits of spunk from between her teeth and gums before swallowing the final load. Proudly, she rocked back on her heels and looked at Royce, who was, indeed, wide awake and not dreaming.
“Good Mornin’, Mr. Engel,” Clementine greeted him brightly with a big smile. “Momma said I should ‘roust’ you. I saw you were layin’ there all hard and lonesome and figured a good mornin’ kiss would be just the thing.” She stood and straddled the stunned attorney’s body on the cot, spreading out the full skirt of her sleeveless gingham pullover dress as she sat down on his trapped penis. “D’you like morning kisses?” She asked with a giggle, falling forward and planting a big one square on his mouth.
Royce held Clementine by her waist while they kissed. She slid her full firm teen kartal escort breasts, behind her loose bodice, across his chest while her tender unprotected pussy rubbed vertically along his turgid, but softening, tool. Struggling, Royce broke free from the avid youth’s mouth and sat up. He scooted, with Clementine, down the cot until his feet were on the floor and his calves bumped the end of the bed. His now flaccid cock was snugged between their hips as he hugged her to his torso. “I love getting morning kisses, Clementine,” Royce replied, coursing his hands from her waist across her back, slip-sliding her frock’s flimsy material over her smooth skin. “And, I like to GIVE them, too,” he added as he bunched her dress under her armpits, exposing her aroused puffy pink-brown halos. He tipped his chin and caught her stiff left nubbin between his lips. His tongue artfully teased it as he drew her firmly further into his maw.
“Nnnnhhhh,” Clementine mewled. “It’s the same as with Poppa, but NOT the same!” She thought, excitedly to herself. Electric flashes arced from her tit to her clit turning on her lubricating spigots. She raised her arms to the ceiling and Royce, still greedily sucking for her impossible milk, pushed her dress until she could shuck it over her head and toss it onto the heaped blanket.
Dropping her hands, Clementine clasped Mr. Engel to her breast, wishing he would suck her other one, too, but loathe to actively redirect him. Intuitively, Royce switched tits, but, to Clementine’s delight, he did not ignore his first target. His right hand compressed her boob’s mass and massaged his saliva from her nipple outward, then returned to pinch and squeeze the pebbled areola between his first two fingertips while his thumb extended and circled her breast bone.
Clementine, driven to distraction, danced in place on Royce’s lap, unconsciously, but unsuccessfully, seeking his cock with her cunt. “Hhnnn… Nyaahh… UUUunnn!” She warbled as she wiggled, all the more violently, hunting a hardness which was no longer there.
Royce lifted his face from his feast and smiled sheepishly. “You did too good a job, Clementine,” he rasped huskily, reading her subconscious desire. “The mind is willing, but the body is weak.” He chuckled and kissed her lightly before continuing, “But don’t fret, my pet, I’ll take care of you.” Abruptly, Royce stood, leaving Clementine no option but to cling to his strong frame, or fall backward to the tack room floor. He pivoted with the girl in his arms and laid her on the cot.
Clementine rolled her shoulders in the depression Royce’s body left in the mattress. It was still warm from his heat. He dropped to the floor and spread the teen’s legs, revealing close up her puffy plump pussy lips, now quivering beneath their merest veil of pale flaxen fuzz. Her sheathed clitoris tentatively peeked out, wondering what was next. She stretched her thighs wide and thrust her bottom up, inviting Mr. Engel’s attention.
No invitation was necessary. Royce planted his face flush against Clementine’s tremulous twat and followed through with the thought he immediately had when he first saw her naked in the hot springs cavern. He swiftly licked his way up to her hiding clitty and there sucked her bean like a third teat.
Clementine’s anticipation, strong as it was, was overpowered by the event. She came. Screeching. She clawed at Royce’s hair, pulling him hard against her uncontrolled writhing hips. He grasped her bottom in his strong hands and pressed her still more against his face, immobilizing her and driving his tongue deep into her folds. As he lapped her flow, squeezed her ass and tormented her button, Clementine’s torso floundered on the cot, like a trout on the beach. Her mounded breasts shook with every upturned shoulder roll. She whimpered and wept, wondering if her agonized ecstasy would ever stop, all the while fervently wishing it would not.
At length Clementine’s orgasms passed. She lay wasted and sated, amazed by the powerful feelings which possessed her. Royce stood up and looked down. His resurgent cock bobbed. He laughed aloud and thought, “Oh, so NOW you show up.” Reaching down he took Clementine’s hands and pulled her to a seated position on the cot. “I’m thinking your Momma may be wondering what’s happened to her little girl. Shouldn’t we go back to the cabin before she sends your Poppa to search for you?”
Clementine gave a wan smile. “Yes, Mr. Engel,” she answered with a weak voice, then, with a stronger note, she added, “Momma wanted me to collect eggs and gather some berries, if I could find any.”
Engel responded, “Well, let’s do that… and, now that we know each other a little bit better, why don’t you just call me ‘Royce’?” Clementine nodded appreciatively, stood from the bed and pulled her dress on while Royce stepped into his pants. “Go get your eggs, Clementine,” Royce directed, “I’ll finish dressing and join you shortly.”
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