The Buffalo_(1)

For thousands of years before western civilization invaded the American plains, its native people hunted the buffalo. Having only basic tools, the death of each animal was a battle hard won. As such, the hunters carried a degree of respect for the beast, and a tradition of using all parts of the animal was established. While its flesh served the obvious purpose, its skin made warm clothing and provided shelter, and its great bones made structural supports, weapons, and tools. It is the same mindset with which the Native Americans used the buffalo that lives on today in the relationship between Jenny and her father.



Her legs burned. Firm calves throbbed from the repeated motion. The balls and sockets of her hips complained with increasing anger. And… it was glorious. The fifth time Jenny ran home from school, everything changed. The first four days were painful and tiring, each thud of her pink Nike’s shaking her small frame, jostling her fluttering heart within her chest. But now, on day five, she broke through that barrier. The pain was still there, but it was secondary in her mind to the pure joy of exercise. Two blocks from home, she slowed to walking pace, and it all came back to her. The run had allowed her momentary peace from the fear of what had happened at school that day, and what awaited her at home. She stopped and took a few more deep breaths; taking notice of the sweat running down the crease between her full breasts. They had always been an obstacle, being more than a bit too large for a girl of her size. Jenny was a very pretty girl, with a small round head and a stout pug nose flanked by piercing blue eyes. Standing only a little over five feet tall, her blonde mane stretched down the small of her back, terminating a few inches above her waist. She was newly sixteen years old, but aside from her well-developed chest, her looks suggested a girl several years her junior. Glancing down further at her legs, she saw they were trembling. Not from the run, she thought, but from nervous trepidation. She was home.



Opening the side door, she entered the kitchen of her modest home. All surfaces were sparkling clean, as a direct result of her labors last night.

“Daddy, I’m home!”

The kitchen was to be cleaned top to bottom twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays. Her father kept a clean house. He was an engineer, who at a young age had built a very successful company on the manufacture of lightweight and reliable fuel pumps. Last year he sold it. Her daddy didn’t discuss matters of business with her, but she overheard a conversation between him and his lawyer in which he said something about “eight figures” being a fair price. She dropped her backpack at the kitchen table as her father walked in.

“Hey babe, how was your run?” he said, a smile on his face.

He wore a slimming grey v-neck and basketball shorts. His hands were covered in grease, undoubtedly from another one of his basement projects.

“Good daddy, really good! I’m glad you decided I should run home.”

“Yes, it was a good idea, wasn’t it?”

His elbows settled down on the table as his hands intertwined in front of them. Her daddy had the same blue, piercing eyes that felt like they could see right through to her soul. His straight and unimposing nose was superior to a well-trimmed, thin moustache. His lips formed a lopsided smile that curved upwards and to the right. She’d always thought her daddy was very handsome.

“Okay Jen, why don’t we both clean up and get started?” he said, his smile widening.

The warmth from her run quickly left her face, leaving behind a cold layer of sweat. Her legs subtly began trembling again.

“Yes daddy, I’ll go clean up right now.”

She turned away from him and walked out of the kitchen, down the hall and to the bathroom. Jenny closed the heavy walnut door behind her, pressing down on the center of the brass doorknob. The girl turned to the mirror above the sink and inspected herself with a critical eye. She turned on the water, cupped her hands below the faucet and filling them with cooling liquid. Her hands and face came together as she washed the perspiration from her smooth, pale skin. Lifting the towel from the chrome holder on the wall, she passed it over her visage. The luxurious Turkish cloth absorbed the moisture in one swoop. After quickly using the toilet, she left the bathroom and returned to the kitchen. Her father was waiting at the table, with a towel in his clean hands and a scrutinizing look on his face. Satisfied with what he saw, his features again assembled themselves into their typical half-smile.

“Much better Jen.” He said, motioning for her to come closer.

His daughter walked over with quick, small footsteps upon the white linoleum. She stopped two feet in front of him.

“You know what to do.”

Jenny started with her pale blue tank top, peeling it off her still moist body. As it rose upwards, her firm, flat belly came into view. It passed over her ribs, and then her firm, lush titties. The twin mounds rose proudly from her chest as the tank cleared her head and was dropped to her side. Her father nodded approvingly, signaling her to go on. Jenny’s face flushed red. It was far from the first time her daddy had seen her like this, but being exposed like so never failed to embarrass her. Her pink nipples filled with blood and her breasts swelled inside her lacy beige bra as she brought down her yellow cotton short shorts and stepped out of them; one dainty little foot after another. All that was left was her bra and panties, covering her womanly treasures.

“Turn around and bend over”, her daddy said.

“Daddy, please…” she whimpered. The smile left his face.

“Turn around, and bend over. I’m not going to ask again.”

Jenny did as she was told. Her round, blemishless asscheeks jutted out from her slim waist and her pussy mound oozed out from between her youthful pink thighs. Her daddy came around to her side and placed his hand on her lovely ass. His coarse, rough skin kneaded her toned flesh and she involuntarily began to squirm.

“Stop that”, he said firmly, but without raising his voice.

Jenny took a deep breath as she tried to take control of her protesting body. His hand traveled lower to the crease between her lovely ass and upper thigh, though, it wasn’t even really a crease. The transition between her full buttocks and coltish thighs was a simple curve, a sign of her blossoming youth. His hand traveled to her bulging cunt mound and squeezed firmly, eliciting a dog-like yelp from her lips. She trembled as a single tear flowed down her cheek.

He chuckled to himself, “You like that, Jen?”

“Daddy…” she said breathlessly, her deep, newly ragged breathing a symptom of her growing arousal.

She hated how her body reacted to his touch, but it was simply beyond her control. He released his grip of her pussy as his fingers found the hem of her yellow nylon panties, pulling them over her ass and down to her knees, where Jenny raised her shins off the tile, one by one, and her panties left her body. Jenny’s father deposited his daughter’s damp underwear on the side with her tank top and shorts. He unclasped her bra and put it in the pile with the rest, releasing her rounded tit orbs from their cotton prison. Her perfectly formed milk sacs bounced and swelled even more. The distended pink nipples at the center of each breast stood a full inch from her silver dollar sized areolae.