Birddoggin' Ch. 2

“You’d carry me in your arms to my bed,” she murmured, almost lost in the dream. “You always said you liked to eat me when I was fresh and clean.”

“That was my dream, too,” I lied. But it was only a white lie. I’d had that dream a few times, but more intense ones, too.

I quickly dried my own damp flesh, not bothering to be thorough. Throwing the wet towel on the floor, I scooped up the light teenage girl, carrying her to her virginal bed.

I’d never asked Summer if she was a virgin, and never would. It didn’t really matter much to me. Not because I didn’t care, but because I’d planned to treat her like one no matter what. To me she was a virgin, and maybe a part of her always would be. We’d have to see if I felt the same way one or two years down the road.

But for now, I carried her to her very feminine bed, having to brush aside her stuffed bears and kittens so I could lay her flat. Summer still clung to a few of the symbols of her youth. It was a very endearing quality just now.

Then I kissed my way down my daughter’s body, stopping once more to seek out her breasts with my eager tongue and hands. I explored the expanse of her belly and the depth of the button I found there. My tongue tasted a bit of soap we’d missed in its warm depth. It was not at all unpleasant, however. It reminded me of our pleasure in the bath.

Then I went lower. I munched on hips and flanks, the soft warm flesh of the pride of my loins. I suckled the tender insides of her thighs, until she urged me to stop delaying our mutual, inevitable goal.

“Please, Daddy! Quit teasing me! Don’t make me beg for it,” she whimpered.

So I flattened my tongue and licked upward from just before her well-scrubbed anus to the crest of her honey-covered mound. Each spot had a different flavor on my tongue, my brain flagging every centimeter as a space that needed further research. Summer’s thighs rose; she draped one ankle leisurely across my back, the other she stretched wide to open herself more.

I spied the rich, pink insides of my daughter’s glistening inner lips. The color and texture drew my nose as surely as any magnet could. She had a heady smell and a rather tangy flavor. It was not at all intense or unpleasant; it was only that my own senses so eagerly sought them out.

My tongue slipped in, active and insistent. Summer cried out, arching her back and unconsciously trying to pull away. When she realized what her body was doing, she reversed herself and thrust her young hips up enthusiastically, stretching wide and giving me complete access.

I’d forgotten the joys of an agile, limber body. Summer placed her hands under her knees and pulled them up to her chest, essentially getting her thighs and legs completely out of my way. Her vaginal lips stretched tight around my tongue as she did. I moaned deeply, thinking what that would feel like if my cock were deep inside her pussy when she did it.

“Please, Daddy! Hurry! Lick my clit,” she begged me.

Kids are always eager. Always in a hurry. I wanted to wander and play and fulfill my fantasies. She wanted to get off, to explode with fireworks and to feel the earth move.

I had to remind myself again that this was her time. If I hooked her on the pleasure, got her addicted to the joys of family sex, there’d be plenty of next occasions.

So I moved up, my tongue dancing and playing around Summer’s hooded clit. The little nub was peeking out, swollen and almost erect. I licked both sides as well as above and below; then softly, began to lick the clit itself. As I did, I began to tease her lower lips with one long, thick finger.

Summer’s hips bounced off the bed, wanting firmer pressure. As she whimpered and moaned, I bore down with my tongue, and gave her more of the finger as well.

Summer cried out and I felt her moist flow increase. I licked the dew of her flower then spread it on her clit, lubricating that hard stamen with her own nectar.

As she exclaimed, I pushed my finger firmly into her depths. Summer convulsed, her hips rocking up of their own accord, rubbing her clit furiously on my tongue as we worked together to maximize her pleasure. I let another finger graze her anus, tweaking the ticklish outside and causing Summer to bounce and flail even more.

Finally she moaned deeply and began to climax. I buried the finger and left it deep, flicking the first agile knuckle around inside. My daughter’s thighs clamped around my ears, holding my tongue in place and giving her something more to thrust up against.

She bucked three or four more times, deep thrusts combined with deep groans. Then Summer’s body slowly went slack, as though she was collapsing, but in slow motion. The only muscles in her body that seemed to still react were the ones in her hands that sought to pull my mouth off of her clit.

Reluctantly, I pulled away. Summer’s young vagina somehow bore a satisfied expression. Her hair was a bit matted, her lipstick a bit smeared, but my! she had a pretty face!

“I see you two have been having fun,” my daughter and I heard from the doorway.

It was her mother, Lori, my wonderful wife!

“Someone left a mess in the bathroom, though,” she chuckled. “One of you better clean it up, and I know who I think ought to do it. What do you think, Summer?”

“Well, I was having a wonderful bath by myself before he interrupted,” Summer giggled, relaxed and happy. “But he’s more than made it up to me since.”

“Yes, he has a way of doing that, doesn’t he,” my wife said to her daughter as though I wasn’t even present. “Still, make him work for it a little. Men get so cocky when everything goes their way. I think cleaning up the bathroom will help to bring him down to earth.”

“Perhaps your right, Mommy,” Summer grinned wickedly.

“Don’t turn her against me, Lori,” I said playfully to them both. “I’d almost had her convinced I was the greatest guy in the world.”

“Maybe you are, but you’re still just a man. Summer needs to learn the way we women keep you men civilized,” my wife said casually. “If he’s going to be your man too, Summer, I can’t have you reversing twenty-plus years of training, dear.”

Wife and daughter smiled at one another, coming to some unspoken agreement I was apparently left out of.

“Of course, Mother,” Summer said, smiling warmly. “I have so much to learn, with two great parents so willing to teach me.”

Thus began Summer’s real education that year, which only incidentally was the year she entered college. I home-schooled her in the ways of the flesh. Lori home-schooled her in the ways of women. And Summer taught us all a thing or two as well!

Author’s note: Constructive feedback is always welcome, as are votes. If you have an opinion on this story for good or ill, I’d love to hear it.