The Game_(3)

The Game

(Incest with young girls. Not your thing? Go away.)

My blood was up. Hot.
My cock swole to bursting.
The red colored all I saw.
I needed release.
But who? The wife couldn’t stop this feeling. Amy was useless except she brought me the girls.
Jamie? 7. She was still being taught – choked too much.
Kim? 9. She knew what was expected – and did it, more or less.
Becky. Fuck – I missed Bec. My fault the cum drowned her.
Leena. Now 12, she was into the game. Her pareau was tissue, revealing thigh and thatch with every move. She had no top, her almost grown breasts were twin magnets …
Cousin Sissy was over for the night. Her Ma wouldn’t care except mebbe for bein’ left out.
I called ‘em in.
Jamie in a long tee, sleek legs rising up to a hairless slit. A tight hairless slit and an angelic face framed by mountains of soft brown curls.
I winked, shook my dong at her. She cringed.
Kim, damn Kim, could give a man a hard-on at a mile, cutest by a farm mile, but with no sex drive.
Sissy, 8, 9 whatever. She din’t know much about the game but she had slow eyes that weren’t afraid to look at cock.
Her dress was some too big, if she leaned to you you could see right down to her knees, past the snug pure white panties.
As I looked, her fingers slid inside her panties, moving in circles.
It was way too hot.
Shedding my last clothes I stalked amongst the girls, my fucking purple pole damn near pointing at the ceiling, bobbing and waving.
‘Amy. Fan me.’
She rose uncertainly, picked a fan, crossed to me. Pointing at my cock, I pulled her blouse off, felt her nipples.
‘Unh-nn. Give me taste.’
Amy’s eyes started, widened, then turned away as her hand went under her mini skirt, moved around, then presented to my mouth.
I licked her fingers.
‘Still dry. Work yourself.’
‘That’s ‘cause I’m scairt to see you incesting all our daughters. You ought’n do that.’
‘They ain’t all our daughters.’
Missy, 6 and way cuter than she realized, came in late, started to sit.
‘Missy, taste.’
‘I don’t … ‘
The slap echoed like a shot as her head snapped around.
‘Wrong. Taste.’
Tears flooding, Missy fingered herself, brought me the taste: Pee, girl juice, wet.
‘Char outside?’
Trembling, Missy nodded.
‘You know the rules. Bring her in.’
Char, 7, was Missy’s friend, knew a little of what we did.
They returned.
‘Missy, taste me Char.’
Turning to Char, Missy ran her fingers into Char’s tiny little slit, then presented them.
‘They taste just like you.