Doc Winters Appalachian Legend
Copyright© 2025 by DeepInside
Chapter 2
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Appalachian Red 'Doc' Winters is a legend in more ways than one. His "doctoring" includes tending to all the folks in Beaver Valley using local herbs and self-taught skills. Doc Winters also has the biggest pecker in the hollar. All gals go see him on their sixteenth birthday. It's a tradition to lose their virginity to him. Like their maws done. Daisy Bell comes to Doc all scared like. She is so homely no man wants to marry her. Then Doc takes a liking to the skinny gal with big tits.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft mt/Fa Fa/ft Teenagers Consensual Reluctant Romantic Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Sharing Incest Mother Daughter MaleDom Rough Anal Sex Cream Pie Exhibitionism First Facial Oral Sex Pegging Pregnancy Squirting Tit-Fucking Big Breasts Doctor/Nurse Size
The next day come ‘round, Daisy Bell done found herself right smack dab at Doc Winters’ mercy an’ callin’. He had his way with her a good few times durin’ the night, an’ she had herself her first ever climax. He chuckled at her gigglin’ an’ them tiny little sounds she’d make. Her ‘learntime’ with Doc was just a-gettin’ started. He sent word out to her maw an’ paw that she was his new helpin’ hand. She knowed they’d be right proud she ain’t no virgin no more an’ that Doc took a likin’ to her.
The mornin’ commenced with gatherin’ herbs in the holler. Doc, he pointed out this here peculiar root. Said it’d make a feller stand tall for hours on end. He held onto that ‘un like it was gold dust, and she giggled to herself. She’d pondered how his pecker a-keep at it all night long.
It were some right tough labor, but she liked bein’ out in the fresh air all the same. She felt like a wild bird, even if Doc had her runnin’ ‘round buck naked an’ plowin’ her when he took the notion. She got a kick outta the feelin’ of the sun on her hide, the way the wind played with her love button, an’ how Doc’s seed’d run down her legs. It were a peculiar kinda comfort, bein’ so bare an’ yet so craved after.
Daisy Bell hollered a howdy to Doc’s patients in her altogether. She had a smile wider’n the Mississippi, and not a soul said a peep. They’d seen Doc’s other helpers dressed just that a-way. They knowed she was his’n, and this was one of his oddball idears. Her monthly visit from Aunt Flow come ‘round the end of the first week. She looked at Doc all nervous-like and told him. He just nodded and said, “Time ta break in that other hole of yours,” with a pat on her bare bottom. “I’ll show ya how ta keep it sparklin’ clean.” That night, he had his way with her from behind for longer than a summer day. Her rear was as red and sore as a fresh picked berry come sunup, and she waddled like a duck in mud. He slapped on some salve and rubbed it in good. It felt strange, bein’ handled rough and pampered all at once.
As the weeks drifted inta months, Daisy Bell turned into Doc’s right-hand gal. She took in all his doc-torin’ ways and lent a hand with his ‘cures’. The gals ‘round Beaver Valley’d come a-callin’ on ‘im for everythin’ from a toothache to a young’un that’d jest not quit bawlin’. An’ she’d be right thar, eagle-eyein’ an’ pickin’ up on things. Now an’ again, she’d even lend a hand when he had to take care of his patients in a ... special way. Her mouth’d warm ‘em up, so’s he could come in an’ do what he needed to with his pecker. It were a peculiar an’ powerful life they lived.
Wun day, a young’un gal named Lila Lou come t’see Doc. She was in a family way and right scared. Some fellers from outta the hills had her in the woods fer hours and done her wrong. Them two never made it outta the holler alive. Lila, she din’t wanna raise no young’un from that mess, so she come t’Doc t’fix her up. It was the first time Doc looked sadder than a mule eatin’ a cactus. “You’d be killin’ a part o’ yerself,” he tole her. “Ya sure ‘bout this? Go home and set on it fer a week. If’n ya still feel the same, come on back.”
Daisy Bell noticed the misery in Lila’s peepers and pulled her out of earshot. “Don’t you go doin’ it,” she murmured. “I know it’s like climbin’ a mountain, but you’re tough as old leather. You got this, honey. Now, think on that little one a-growin’ in ya.” Lila walked off without sayin’ a peep, but Daisy had a hunch she’d planted the seed in her noggin.
Eftar Lisa Lou tuk off, Daisy Bell’s peepers was a-shinin’ like a spark-filled night sky. She swung ‘round t’ward Doc an’ says, “You’ve done me dirty a hunnert ways t’Sunday, why ain’t I in a family way?”
Dock glanced at her, his peepers studyin’. “You aim to tote my young’un?”
Daisy bobbed ‘er head, all excited-like, thinkin’ on carryin’ Doc’s young’un. “I ain’t purty, Doc,” she whispered, “but I kin be a right good maw.” There was a spark in ‘er voice, like a little bird singin’ a hopeful tune.
Doc’s face kinda melted for a quick second, somethin’ you ain’t often see ‘round here if ya know him. He run his hand over his whiskers. “I been puttin’ sumthin’ in your grub,” he let out, “It keeps you from gettin’ in the family way,” he says. “But if you truly hanker for a young’un, I reckon I can put an end to it,” he admits.
“Ah do,” she sed firmly. “Ah want a baybee. Yer baybee.”
Doc looked her over fer a spell. She wuz a right quick learner, an’ he knowed when his time come, Daisy’d handle the doctorin’ just fine without him. It wuz a hoot seein’ her take them young’uns’ cherry with that strap-on fake pecker belt. Daisy liked to ‘give it to ‘em’ with a fire in her belly that wuz just like his. Like she wuz makin’ up fer bein’ born so homely. “Alrighty,” he said with a gruff voice. “But I ‘spect ya ta keep me happy even when ya belly’s all puffed out.”
Daisy bobbed her head real eager-like, her peepers shinin’ brighter than fireflies on a summer night. The notion of bearin’ Doc’s young’un was more’n she’d ever dared to hope for. Maybe she weren’t much to look at, but now she had a reason for bein’. She swore on the good Lord’s own book, “My frame’ll see to it that you’re content, Doc, and nothin’ less.”
They humped non-stop, like rabbits in spring. Doc ain’t never seen a gal more eager to get with child. He didn’t have to say “bend over” to Daisy Bell. She done it like it was her favorite meal. And she were hungry, all right. Hungry for a young’un, hungry for some lovin’, hungry for acceptance. She took his elixir like it were sacred nectar. Every time he’d withdraw, she’d pray for a babe to be nestled in her belly. The waitin’ was the toughest part, though.
Doc, he done did enhance her role with the patients right good. Her mouth, it was a-pleasin’ both the menfolk and the womenfolk, and it weren’t long ‘fore she got as popular as he was. Daisy, she felt right proud of her work, she did. And when her paw-paw come in for a ‘treatment’, she felt all nervous-like. He was quiet as a mouse whilst she worked her magic on his pecker, his eyes never leavin’ hers. She knew deep down that he was proud of her, even if he didn’t say it out loud with words. When he came, it shot outta him like a bullet from a gun, lettin’ her know she done good. Then he petted her on the noggin, whispered somethin’ to Doc, and they shared a firm handshake.
Daisy Bell had herself a baby gal with hair as red as a rooster’s comb, and she wept like a willow for hours, she was that happy. Doc looked at the little’un and said, “Daisy Doe’s your name, sweet pea.” And all the folks from Beaver Valley, they come a-callin’. They’d seen Daisy Bell’s bare behind more times than a jackrabbit’s tail, so they weren’t a-shocked when she strutted ‘round the shack buck naked, showin’ off her newborn treasure, her teet all swolled up with milk for the tyke.
The yers done flowed by, an’ Daisy Bell kep’ on servin’ Doc an’ the holler. She’d come inta her own, a right an’ proper maw, she had. Her figger’d changed some with Daisy Doe bein’ borned. Her tits had swollen more’n berries on the vine, her hips spread like a squattin’ hen, an’ her pussy tighter’n a coon’s fist. She took a shine t’ the way Doc peered at her now. Them buck teeth of hers weren’t all he saw no more. He seen a maw, a gal who birthed his kin. An’ the one t’ carry on his life’s labor. Beaver Valley’d be in good keepin’ when Doc Winters went to meet his maker.
Daisy Doe wus a sassy young’un, ‘er flamin’ red hair stickin’ out like a sore thumb next ta Daisy Bell’s mousy blonde. Doc’s blood ran through ‘er veins clear as day, and Daisy Doe got purtier with every season that come by. He might’ve had a grumpy way ‘bout him still, but Doc treated Daisy Doe like she wus the apple of ‘is eye, and she cherished ‘im right back. Daisy Bell, she’d just watch ‘er little girl bloom under Doc’s care, her heart swellin’ up like a balloon filled with pride.
One frosty winter eve, as the trio of ‘em hunkered ‘round the snappin’ fireplace, Doc beckoned Daisy Bell close by his side. His peepers, what usually had a spark of cravin’, now shone with a soft warmth. “Ain’t farin’ so well,” he murmured, caressin’ her locks. “Cain’t stay here forever. Time’s a-comin’ soon. I want ya ta lay me ta rest ‘neath the ground, ‘longside that crick, by the ol’ willow. Give me yer word, Daisy.”
Daisy Bell’s peepers welled up like ol’ Bessie’s spring come April, but she bobbed her head with the resolve of a mountain oak. “I do swear it, Doc,” she whispered.
“Me too,” Daisy Doe chimed in from where she set on the floor, fussin’ with a wooden doll. “I promise!” Her voice come off all sugary-sweet and pure, and she ain’t got the foggiest what she’s promisin’, but she yearned to be part of the mix. Doc, he chuckled and let out a good ol’ “oomph” when his young’un leapt onto his knee. “Can we go frog giggin’ tomorrow,” she says, flashin’ paw-paw the biggest smile you ever seen.
“Ah’ll see ‘bout that,” Doc drawled, plantin’ a peck on her brow. His gaze drifted t’ward Daisy Bell. He knowed that afore too long, she’d be fillin’ his boots fer the folk’s doctorin’ needs an’ helpin’ out with them shy youngins takin’ the leap t’ bein’ grown ups. He’d tutored her good an’ proper, in the crafts of fixin’ what’s ailin’ an’ showin’ a girl the ways o’ the world. It tickled his fancy some to be handin’ his work over to a gal, but it’s what the Beaver Valley folks was callin’ fer. Things was shapin’ up different these days.
The pain in his chest and down his left arm had been a-growin’ fer a good spell of time. He knowed what that meant. His ticker was callin’ it quits. The Grim Reaper hisself had come a-knockin’. Doc Red Winters, the fella who’d had his way with every lil’ lass in Beaver Holler, was fixin’ to meet his Maker. He signaled to Daisy Bell to come give him a hold. She come runnin’ in, her big ol’ titties bobbin’ with every stride, and she had that look on her face like a calf meeting a mountain lion.
He stretched out fer anotha mess o’ basil leaves t’ chew on, ta ease th’ ache. “You’re th’ purtiest girl in all creation. Ah’m so proud t’ have been yo’ man,” Doc murmured, his voice nothin’ more’n a breath as he took his last gasp and squeezed her hand hard. Daisy Bell felt a chill run through her as she watched th’ light fade from his eyes. He was done fer.
Daisy Bell’s heart bust up like fine china. She’d fell fer that thar ol’, gruff, carrot-topped man. He’d done gone ‘n’ made her feelin’ special. She give him a little peck on the mouth. Deep down, she knowed she’d was his missus. But as the fog lifted, it come clear as daylight he’d picked her to be the new Doc of Beaver Holler.
She picked up little Daisy Doe and tucked ‘er into bed. That gal were too young to grasp the concept of passin’ on, and Daisy Bell had no wish for ‘er to be scared. She pulled the covers up tight and sung ‘er a lullaby that her granmaw had taught her. The tune were about a bear and a rabbit, and it always had the effect of closin’ Daisy Doe’s eyes right up, ready for sleep.
Ol’ Doc Winter was all a-slump where she’d done took her leave. She gently closed his peepers and tucked him up in a quilt. He were too much of a load for her to tote ‘round. She’d be fetchin’ some help come sun-up. This was gon’ be the grandest layin’-to-rest the holler had ever knowed. Doc, he were a legend, sure as shootin’. Every man, woman, and young’un would be there to pay they respects.
She shuffled on over to the kitchen and poured her a cup of Doc’s homebrew hooch. That warmth spread through her like molasses on a winter’s mornin’. Then, she couldn’t hold it in no more and let the tears flow like a mountain spring. She’d been right blessed to have that man as her own. He’d seen past her outsides, the ones that weren’t so easy on the eye, and found her worth. The good Lord had been shinin’ down on her when he made her Doc’s wife.
The nex’ mornin’, her an’ Daisy Doe set out t’visit her kinfolk, blurtin’ the news as they went. They all come a-runnin’ faster’n a jackrabbit in a wildfire. Paw-Paw’s peepers was redder than a cock’s comb, but he took charge, a-plannin’ the whole hoedown. They aimed t’ give Doc a farewell that’d have folks talkin’ fer years an’ years.
The day done come an’ passed, with eatin’ an’ prayin’ an’ storifyin’ galore. The moonshine flowed like a mountain crick, an’ the tears dropped like spring rain in May. The peoples o’ Beaver Hollow, they knowed Doc warn’t no preacher-man, but he’s been theirn’ for sure, an’ that there meant somethin’ fierce. Daisy Bell, bless ‘er soul, she held ‘er head high, showin’ ev’ryone she ain’t just some plain ol’ gal no more. She’s the Doc now, an’ her an’ Daisy Doe, they’s gonna carry on with Doc’s ways o’ doin’ things.
A young’un stumbled inta see Daisy ‘round the next week. She wus all aflutter, eyes cast down like a shy kitten’s an’ a voice tremblin’ like a leaf in a spring zephyr. “Doc,” she whispered, “I’s ‘bout ta hitch meself ta Buck Webber. I’s needin’ yur assist to...” She couldn’t get the words out. She needed for Daisy to take her maidenhood. So she could be ready. To teach her how to do a man.
And so, life down in Beaver Holler just kept on a-goin’. T’weren’t the same, but in some-a ways it were. Little Miss Daisy Bell, she done up and stepped into Doc’s ol’ boots, takin’ on his work and his ways. She become the new healer ‘round these parts, the one folks’d come to for their troubles and their secrets whispered low. And whispers, oh boy, there was plenty of ‘em. The wimmins, they’d chat in hushed tones, sharin’ tales of how Doc had schooled her in the arts of love, makin’ her just right for helpin’ their own daughters blossom into womanhood. And for keepin’ their men’s spirits high, if ya know what I’m sayin’. The nights can get mighty cold in the Appalachian valley and a hard pecker. Daisy knew Doc wouldn’t mind her shar’n his special herb.
Daisy Doe, she shot up like a weed in the sunshine. At sweet sixteen, her pappy’s blazin’ red hair and her mama’s bullheadedness made her a feisty lass that could sweet-talk the birds clean outta the treetops. And she had a knack for the herbs and potions, jest like Doc. Before you could say “jackrabbit,” she was helpin’ her maw, learnin’ the ins and outs of doctorin’ folks and watchin’ her maw sooth out a man’s rough spot wit her mouth. It were a sight to see, that young’un with her speckled nose and bright eyes, havin’ the touch that could make the toughest feller melt like ice on a summer day.
One fine day, young Billy Bob come a-knockin’ at the door. His face wus as red as a beet, his knees knockin’ together like they wus fightin’ a duel. “Ma’am,” he says to Daisy Bell, “I’s needin’ a ... a ... tune up.” Daisy Bell winked at him, knowin’ full well what he’s after. She took him by the hand and led him into the back room where the bed lay, the same one she’d been broke on all them years ago. “Take yer pants down,” she ordered, and Billy Bob, he done it so fast you’d think they were on fire.
“Daisy Doe, c’mon in yonder. I gots me a young’un that’s a needin’ some sprucin’ up.” Billy Bob, he took a fancy to runnin’, but them britches of his had different idears. He plum fell to the wooden floor and started crawlin’ like a ant under a magnifyin’ glass. Daisy Bell, she couldn’t help but giggle. She knowed that boy’s pa brung ‘im for a good ol’ fashioned ‘tune up’ afore he got hitched. It’s custom ‘round here, like handin’ down a secret recipe for moonjuice.”
Billy Bob, he peered up at Daisy Doe, lookin’ all shy-like, his cheeks burnin’ red as a sunset, matchin’ her fiery hair. “I’s ... I’s powerful sorry, Miss Daisy,” he stamm’rd. “I’s ... I’s never had the pleasure of ... never been with...” He tried to hide his pecker, but he was too took by her looks to do more than just lay there like a log, mouth open. Billy Bob, bless his soul, had a real whopper of one.
Daisy Doe, she giggled like a young’un and took ‘im by the hand. “It’s all right, Billy,” she cooed ‘im, her voice sweeter’n fresh mint. “Maw’s done learn’t me the ins ‘n’ outs, ya hear now? I’m a-gonna tune ya up jest fine ‘n’ dandy. You’re gonna be my first!” she said, all abuzz with excitement.
Billy Bob, his peepers as big as dinner plates, bobbed his noggin’ like he’d swallered a yo-yo. Daisy Bell, she set there smilin’ ear to ear whilst her young’un peeled off her duds. The little gal had that same fire in her belly that Daisy had when she’d first set foot in Doc’s place, all keen to be pleasin’ and learnin’ his peculiar ways. Daisy Doe, she shoved Billy Bob onto the bed, and before you could say ‘jackrabbit’, she was on top of him, all full of pep and vinegar.
“Maw, kin I uze my cooter? Purt-lease! Ah wanna Billy Bob ta be th’ one t’ pop ma cherry! We kin do it together!”
“Na this time. Use ya mouth like Ah taught ya. An’ make sho ya swallers all his jism.”
Daisy Doe let out a sad ol’ sigh, but she done what her mama tol’ her. “Ah’m gonna make ya pop like a firecracker,” she whispered to Billy Bob with a sneaky grin. She took his pecker in her mouth and sucked like a fish gaspin’ for air.
Billy’s peepers went all the way back in his noggin’ like a turtle’s, an’ he couldn’t stop hisself from lettin’ out a string of moans that’d make an angel choir blush so hard their feathers’d turn pink. Daisy Doe, now she was born fer it. She’d seen her maw do the deed more’n a few times, an’ she’d had her own play sessions with some wild cucumbers. Billy’s knees started to tremble like they was in a cyclone, an’ he grabbed a fistful of her flamin’ red hair like he wus clingin’ to a tree in a hurricane.
The furst time fer Billy Bob felt like ridin’ on a rollercoaster thet’d come off its tracks. Daisy Doe had ‘im hollarin’ like a peacock in rut. She had ‘im spurtin’ out his jism slicker’n a greased hog at a county fair. He looked at her purty blue peepers as she swallered up his seed. Then, she give ‘im a big ol’ grin and showed ‘im her mouth as empty as a bird’s nest in winter.
“Can I do it again, Maw?” Daisy Doe exclaimed in excitement at her success. Billy Bob laid there, sweaty and stunned, his long thick pecker still twitching.
Daisy Bell giggled, slappin’ her all-fired up daughter on the bare cheek of her hind end as it shivered like a wildcat in heat. “Why don’t you all just swap round and let Billy Bob gnaw on yer coot while you’re chompin’ on his pecker again.
“Oh, thank you Maw!” She spun ‘round quicker than a whirlwind afore Billy Bob could spit out a syllable and plopped herself down on his flabbergasted mug. “Have fun, BB,” she squealed.
Billy Bob, he weren’t too sure if’n he was in heaven’s gates or the bottom of the deepest well in da holler, but he weren’t about to go askin’ questions. He took a deep drawl and went to work on Daisy Doe’s nether regions like he was a-prospectin’ for gold. ‘Tweren’t long ‘fore she started kickin’ and squirmin’ like a catfish on a river bank. Her sugared moans filled the room up like a gospel choir on a Sunday mornin’. The scent of her love juices drifted around like fresh apple butter in the air.
Daisy Bell, she was starin’ at the two of ‘em with a look that made her proud. to be a maw. It weren’t no secret that she took a shine to Billy Bob’s tool; his daddy had been one of Doc’s main customers, and she knew the boy had good breedin’. Plus, he had the largest pecker she’d ever laid eyes on since Doc went to meet his maker. “That’s right, Billy,” she whispered to him, all sweet-like. “Don’t be bashful now. Get that tongue in there, good and deep.”
The goin’s on was too powerful for Daisy Bell, she had her own hankerin’s. “Daisy Doe, honey, set up an’ lemme take a seat on Billy Bob fer a spell. I needs me a feelin’ inside.” she told with a little sassy wink.
Billy Bob didn’t get no say in it. Daisy Doe she done sat up and pushed down on his face, let out a moan when her sweet spot hit his mouth. His tongue went to work on her like it was the finest piece of banjo pickin’, and it weren’t long ‘fore she was wetter’n a mink’s tail in a creek.
Daisy Bell, she weren’t shy neither, she set right down on Billy Bob’s big ol’ stick. She let out a contented sigh, the two Daisies were eyeball to eyeball, tit to tit, with Billy Bob smack in the middle like he’s the best pony ride at the county fair.
Billy Bob’s peepers was poppin’ out like a toad in the throes of love as he felt the heat from Daisy Doe’s nether regions on his face and her maw’s on his own stiff pecker. He’d had himself the best day he’d ever! He done forgot all ‘bout his jitters and just let his tongue do the talkin’.
The sound of Daisy Bell’s moanin’ filled the cabin, blendin’ with Daisy Doe’s high-pitched giggles. To Billy Bob, it seemed like they was a-swappin’ smackeroos. He’d heard whispers of such goings-on betwixt gals, but he never spected it to happen to him. His mouth felt like it was in a heavenly hoedown, and he waggled his tongue like he was in the middle of a snake-wrastlin’ match.