Chapter One: Storm

Doug Bryant waited in the humid, salty air of the boat's rocking narrow passageway while Mary kissed their thirteen-year-old daughter good night. When Mary slipped out of the boat's tiny cabin, he entered, brushed back Alyson's sun-bleached brunette bangs, and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "G'night, Pixie," he said as he ran the side of his index finger down the line of her square jaw. He'd said good night that way since she'd come home from the hospital eleven weeks after her premature birth.

Alyson grinned, causing her round apple cheeks to push her narrow eyes into thin slits, then puckered her lips and made two soft grunting noises. He pressed his lips firmly to hers, and for four seconds they softly hummed together, "Mmmmmmmm" and broke apart with a loud, "MAH!" She giggled, and he pointed at her hair. "Tomorrow," he said, shaking the finger at her, "you have your mother trim your bangs. It's too hot here, and you'll get a heat rash on your forehead again."

"Yes, Doctor Daddy," she said, and then giggled at his stern face until he broke into a broad grin. "I love you. G'night."

"I love you too, Pixie. Good night." His hand reached for the light switch beside the door, and he took in one last sight of her, turning to lie on her side atop the sheets in the warm, heavy air. She absently scratched below the conical swelling of her tanned left breast, drawing Doug's attention to the fact that his Pixie was growing up all too soon. The heart-shaped brown thatch around her deep young slit was further evidence.

He closed the cabin door and turned to Mary. She saw the look in his eye. "What's wrong?"

"Hmmm? Oh." Doug seemed to return from somewhere else. He answered in a soft voice to keep Alyson from hearing. "I was just wondering how much longer I'd be telling her good night that way. She's growing up, Mare. Growing up too damned fast. She'll be your height by next summer. Any day now she'll decide she's too old for 'G'night, Pixie, ' and my world will change forever."

Mary wrapped her arms around him and squeezed her naked body to his. They had grown up in a California commune where their parents never bothered with clothing unless it was necessary, and the habit stuck. Neither liked being clothed, and they undressed at the first opportunity. Alyson had inherited that habit from them.

"Such mortality in one so young," she said with mocking wide eyes. "But how many times has your life changed forever?"

He looked deep into those eyes and smiled. "Well, the second time was when Alyson was born. I was seven the first time it happened." That was when he first noticed the six-year-old beauty who was to become his wife. They were best friends in less than a week and inseparable lifetime soulmates by the end of the year. They experimented with sexual touching when he was nine and first tried oral sex at ten, but they didn't have intercourse until he was almost thirteen, despite the fact that none of the adults cared about what sexual contacts the children had among themselves. After that they had entertained numerous partners. Most of the other children in the commune who were near their ages had been their sexual partners at least once, and they now belonged to a small swinging club in their suburban neighborhood. But there was a difference between sport fucking and loving. Doug and Mary deeply, truly, eternally loved each other.

"Come on," he said, pushing her toward the steps up to the boat's main deck. "Let's do it under the stars again."

She grabbed his dick and pulled him along. "You talked me into it, Mister Smoothie, even if the stars are hidden behind the clouds."

Alyson understood the quiet words. She couldn't imagine a time she'd ever be too old for "G'night, Pixie," not even if she were an ancient sixty and her father were an incomprehensible ninety. She swore right then and there that she would never be the one to abandon the ritual.

And then she heard that they were going to have sex-they were going to "fuck"- on the upper deck again. She squirmed as an ache of longing appeared right there in the front of her slit. Alyson slid her finger between her fuzzy outer lips and toyed with her clit for a minute. It swelled into a hard little knot as she gently stroked it with her fingertip.

She had masturbated for years, and her parents knew it. She never masturbated in their presence, but she knew they were aware that she did it every night, and that it was why she sometimes went to her room in the middle of the day and closed the door. They never disturbed her when she was "Tickling the Twat," as her neighbor, Timmy Corel, once called it. Timmy was the one who showed her how boys "Pulled the Pole." Alyson and Timmy had subsequently watched each other masturbate on several occasions, but she had never let him touch her, nor had she touched him. Touching was, regrettably, impossible for her.

When she decided she'd waited long enough she slipped out of her bunk, quietly opened the door, and eased down the hallway and up the steps until she could just see along the surface of the deck toward the stern.

The moon and stars were hidden by a heavy, roiling overcast. To the west, distant flashes of lightning backlit the tropical island looming nearby. Her dad had pulled into this broad sheltered cove when he heard the storm warning. Even though the storm would pass north of them the waves would be heavy, and he didn't want them to be caught out in open water.

Although there was no natural light, except for the tiny amount the distant lightning provided, there was enough light from the rest of the boat for Alyson to see Mom lying on an air cushion, legs raised and wrapped around Daddy's waist. He was resting on his lower legs and hands. This time it was too dark for Alyson to see the hard spear of his cock slowly sliding in and out of Mom's trimmed brown bush, but she could picture it from the other times she had peeked at them.

For a moment Alyson combed her own brown curls with her fingers and wondered if she'd have a bush like Mom's when she was older. Mom's was a wide triangle, while hers was almost an equilateral one. But instead of being a straight line across the top, like Mom's, hers dipped downward slightly in the middle. That dip, plus the line where the growth stopped just short of the junction of her firm outer lips with her thighs, made her bush look like a heart. Some of the girls in her PE class last year had accused her of shaving it to get the heart shape. Two had called it a "merkin," but wouldn't tell her what that meant. She'd had to ask Timmy, who wouldn't tell her until she first masturbated for him.

Alyson shoved a finger into her slit, back where her brown curls thinned to nothing, and into the wetness at the mouth of her virginal vagina. She dragged the lubricating juices to her hard, aching clit and began masturbating with serious determination. She watched her father's tanned butt lift and drop, lift and drop, sending his sun-browned shaft up into her mother's lower body over and over, his balls making wet slapping sounds that Alyson knew were there, but couldn't hear tonight because of the whistles and moans of wind and the slapping of waves against the boat.

They were talking in low voices. She was amazed about the number of different things they talked about while doing it. The subjects ranged from menus to Alyson's school grades to paying bills to what they were doing, the latter occasionally using exotic words or phrases Alyson hadn't yet heard and that left her wanting to know what her mother was feeling more than ever.

She stopped rubbing long enough to join her middle and ring fingers and slip them into her hot, tight, wet tunnel. For almost a minute she slammed them into and out of herself in time with her father's rhythm, then withdrew them to attack her clit with renewed ferocity. It must feel like that, only better. She couldn't imagine how good it must feel to have that long, hard pole of her father's sliding through her young pussy. She'd had several objects in it that were similar in general size and shape. Her favorite was an empty toothpaste cylinder that she kept in her room. But it just didn't feel like Daddy's cock.

Alyson knew what that big, hard, wonderful thing felt like. Well, she knew what it felt like to touch, but not what it felt like in her cunny, where it really counted. When he was really, really tired he snored. Not very loud, but he snored. When he was snoring, you almost needed firecrackers to wake him up. A few of those times she'd been alone with him, and his cock had grown hard in his sleep. Softly, gently, she'd touched it, amazed that it was as firm as the toothpaste cylinder, but on the outside it was soft and velvety and oh-so-nicely warm.

The third time it happened, she wrapped her hand around it and stroked it a couple of times, trying to imagine the sensation it would produce inside her pussy instead of her hand. She became hornier than she had ever been before in her life, and her other hand shot between her legs, as unstoppable as an erupting volcano. A volcano was what that hand found when she pushed her lips apart with her index and ring finger, dipped the middle one into her hole to wet it, and found hot lava. She dragged the liquid forward to her clit and came on the third rub. She didn't wake her father, but she disturbed him enough that he turned over. She went back to her room and masturbated for three hours, cumming over and over again as each release left her wanting more.

The last time she'd held it was a couple of months ago. Mom had gone with Uncle Peter to settle things after Grandpa had gone to sleep while driving Grandma down the Big Sur coast. After Mom had been gone a week, Daddy spent all day working in the yard, putting in landscaping timbers and big rocks and making a really nice flower garden in the back corner to surprise Mom when she returned. He had worn himself out that day. It was the first time Alyson had ever seen her father exhausted. She had heard Mom talking about Daddy's endurance with other women. Of course, Mom was talking about endurance while they were doing it, but Alyson also knew that while her father wasn't stronger than most men his size, he could outwork everyone she knew.

But this one evening he was so tired that he fell asleep on the couch with his back to her, and she couldn't wake him for supper. When she shook his shoulder, he turned onto his back, kept on snoring, and grew a boner. Just like that, right in front of her eyes! She'd seen it happen before, when Mom played with it, but always at a distance. This time it was at arm's-length when it began growing wider and longer than its normal couple of inches, then moved from lying on his leg to atop his tummy, where it pointed toward his head. It kept growing wider and longer still until it was over six inches long, and the head poked out of the skin covering it, the way she was used to seeing his boner.

She just stood there and fingered herself for a couple of minutes, letting him get back to deep sleep. When she could stand it no longer, she gently picked it up and stroked it. Unable to control herself, she finally kissed it and then licked it just below the head, the way she'd seen Mom do it. It swelled, and she grew hornier. Still stroking his stick, she was trying to decide whether to risk trying to get her mouth around it when he suddenly came in his sleep. It was the most amazing thing she'd ever seen. Somehow she kept from finger-banging herself to orgasm on the spot and, instead, scooped up his hot, thick cum in her left hand and ran to her room with her pearly white treasure.

Lying on her bed she deposited her cooling liquid treasure on her chest, between and below the rise of her tender young breasts. The aroma was-different. But it was making her little clit demand attention in no uncertain terms. But first she was going to answer a question that had been haunting her since the first time she saw Mom give Daddy head: what did it taste like? Using her left hand to keep it from flowing away, she scooped some up with her right index finger and brought it to her mouth. She opened her mouth, planning to first taste it with just the tip of her tongue. Instead, she suddenly plunged her finger into her mouth and stripped it clean with her lips, fantasizing sucking it off of her father's cock.