NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This tale is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously—any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, real events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

While hunting for some white pussy, a few weeks back, pretending I was shopping, I saw this man and who I assumed was his daughter at Michaels. A rugged-looking cracker fellow. Muscled, tan, with tats on his arms and neck, which screamed biker dude. Or possibly he was a construction redneck worker. The spawn of Boogie Man was young, between 18 and 20. A breathtaking girl, pasty, snowy skin, pale, near to albino, blue eyes, long blonde hair, and a heavenly body.

This was the whitest bitche ever; the youthful woman grabbed my attention in an instant. I imagined my huge ebony cock shoving into her Betty Crocker mouth, ass, and cunt. Ripping her up the way only a determined superior black man can do.

The bonus was, she had tiny tits.

Yes, sirree, almost no boobs. Just really small mounds, with those magic areolas puffy and full, crowned with pert hard nipples. Pooking out, missiles, calling to me. A love child, I want to eat up, fuck up, and dump her old man on the side of the road.

With him crying about the cum in her belly, up her womb, dribbling down her shapely legs, from her cunt, and ass, and too terrified to open his weak pie hole to tell anyone.

For you see, she caught my eye at first glance, as white women that age interest me. When they’re that ripe, they’re breeders for sure. Her small, round butt moved in her tight-fitting skirt in an enticing dance, like two puppies struggle under a bedsheet. She had this sassy smile that captured my heart, in a way that made me want to smack the sass right off her face and teach her a lesson. She and her father play-fought. He’d reach out and pinch her stomach or tickle it, and she pushed his hand away, but only half-heartedly.

When the pair thought no one could see them, their touching was more inappropriate. The father fondled her little breasts or ran his mitts over her tight body, squeezed her round little ass cheek, or rubbed her crotch under her skirt.

The brat would touch his muscles, or run her fingers over his tummy, back, or the bulge in his pants. They would kiss, not butterfly kisses either. He picked her up, their lips met, somewhat parted, and tongues intertwined.

They were in love, not father-daughter kind. Romantic, sexual, hot as hell, fucking, incestuous lust type. I stalked them around, holding a can of spray paint. Exercising caution, I kept them in sight as they made their way through the shop.

From the speakers overhead, “Shoppers, please make your selections and proceed to the checkouts; the store is closing in five minutes.”

They grabbed a ragdoll and moved toward the front; I tailed the couple with my prize clutched in my fist. I stood in line, right behind them, watching as they continued to play-fight, his bulge growing more apparent as his anticipation grew. Her nipples poked out more visible from his attention to her hot young body.

With her voice soft and husky, she said, “Daddy, can we fool around in the car before we go home?” She rubbed his pecker through his jeans as she gazed at him with loving adoration.

“Yes.” At last, he paid for the dolly, and they walked out of the store.

Shrugging my shoulders, I put the paint down and said, “It’s the wrong color. I’ll come back in the morning.”

I hustled outside, searched the lot, and found them. Their ride was parked at the edge of the parking area, the only vehicle for a hundred yards. I took my time, moving stealthily, inching closer to the car.

The window was down, his head was against the door, only the top of his noggin in view. He was stretched out across the front seat. I could see her down between his legs, rubbing his dick with her tiny hands, her lips warped around the cockhead; she moved a few inches down and then up the average-sized rod. He moaned softly, calling her his good girl.

“That’s my Sweet Pea, yes, daddy loves it when his little lady sucks his Peter.”