I pulled my thong up a tiny bit tighter, enjoyed the feeling and then wiggled into my oldest and sexiest jeans, a pair that had belonged to both my sisters and were new about ten years ago. They were soft and pale, mended here and there and about two inches too short for my yard-long legs, but they had a twenty inch waist and they looked great and felt better, especially with that thick seam tight against my butt crack and wiggling between my pussy lips.
I had trouble with the top button, as usual, and cursed myself for that extra ice-cream sandwich as I sucked my soft gut and got it done. Then I threaded in the wide leather belt with the phallic silver buckle, an arched cock, tossed back my long red hair and looked in the mirror.
I smiled. It was a great look, enough to give most boys an erection and older men evil thoughts. I strode across the room and then back toward the mirror on my toes, watching my thighs move and my calves flex, my mound and pudenda bulged and rippled nicely behind the unbuttoned fly, and when I turned aside I almost laughed at how well my rounded buttocks were beautifully encased, like a pair of soccer balls, the thin material pale on my yummy ass. It was enough to arouse anybody; it even sexually excited me, and I stroked my seething slit and petted my excited clit as I buttoned the fly, gritting my teeth as I felt a surge pass through my belly. I didn't want to bring myself off; I had other plans.
I looked at several tops before deciding on the one I had made from a junior high athletic shirt. It was colorless gray and completely shapeless, probably washed a hundred times like the jeans. It looked much too small in my hands. I had cut off the short sleeves toughly leaving bigger arm openings and then made a crop top out of it in phases, chopping it shorter several times until the lower half of my jugs was displayed when I raised my arms. I had torn open the top so it could fall off one shoulder easily and display cleavage all the time. Then I sat cross-legged and worked on the hem, pulling at it, tearing pieces off, fraying the threads until it was ragged and soft, clinging to my warm, young flesh like silk and moving with me. I pulled it over my curly head and drew it down over my fine pair of globular beauties.
My sisters were both 36D's now and I was sure I'd be there soon. I seldom wore a bra, worked hard to keep my pecs in good shape and had nipples that looked like the first joint of my thumb when they were excited. I looked in the mirror, grabbed my boobs, held them up and then let them go; they bobbled but looked great, the nipples distinct, the cloth stretched between them but softly clinging. I glanced at the clock. Daddy would be home soon. It was Friday, our day. I was eager to feel his mouth on my breasts, his fingers in my ass and then his big cock tearing me open and making me scream in whatever hole he wanted.
I heard the car and trotted down the stairs, letting my jugs bobble freely, bouncing up and down, flapping the hem of my raggedy shirt about and exciting my nipples. I waited in the kitchen, barefoot, feeling my vagina quivering, eager to mate, to serve, to be filled. Most Fridays Daddy took a good hour to enjoy me in lots of different ways. I learned a new position almost every week. Last week it was "hang ten" from behind with my hands on my knees which was great and the week before it was penetrating standing which made me scream and about broke Daddy's back.
In he came, smiling but with another man, a young man right behind him, disappointing me. I pouted. Dad kissed me quickly, patted my butt and said, "Hi, Sweetie, meet Bill Young. We just hired him today. Bill, this is my youngest, Linda; she's starting high school in the fall."
The handsome young man looked at me like most boys do, pulled his eyes away from my high and barely covered breasts and shook my hand smiling and then licking his lips.
"Friday my wife bowls," he told his new hire, "wont be home 'til six, come on in and she'll get you a beer."
They went into the living room and I got two cold bottles, poured out a bowl of pretzels and took them in. Dad pulled me down next to him and palmed my right breast, lifting and squeezing, his hand under my skimpy shirt. "You're looking extra good, sweetie. What have you been up to?"
I wiggled closer, smiled up at him and sighed in my best magnolia accent, "Jus' waitin' for you, Daddy. Do ah have to do him first?"
"Of course," he said, 'Bill's company and I've been telling him all about you. If you'll change your clothes after you're done, we can go out to dinner together."
I nodded and stroked Daddy's bulging groin with my elbow. I don't know how many times he had fucked me right on the sofa, maybe a hundred, and I screamed and creamed every single time, usually with both feet up in the air. I needed it, hadn't done it since Monday when I went to my brother's scout meeting and did five boys and the scoutmaster, pulling a train my brother called it, another first for me.
.... There is more of this story ...