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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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The Reverend Joshua and His Lil Emma
by Sumddy (sumddy@gmail.com)
***
The well endowed Reverend Joshua lusts after his well
endowed daughter Emma who secretly lusts after her
father too. They live alone together on their rural farm
in the late 1800's, and the devil has gotten into them
both. (Mf, ped, exh, inc, mast, oral, rom, bd)
***
Chapter 1 of 6
The Devil's Mischief
Reverend Joshua had been hornier than he remembered
being in a long time. Out in the field of his farm that
he worked with his daughter, Emma, every breeze that day
seemed to make his cock stir with images of his little
girl. Particularly images just the other night
inadvertently seeing his little Emma bathing. Eighteen
and well endowed like his mother, her breasts too large
for her tiny petite frame, she was like an orchid, so
ripe and soft and bemusing The Reverend Joshua could
barely contain himself from stealing glances at his
daughter at every opportunity. He loved his daughter,
respected her and care for her, but he lusted for her as
well.
Unable to stand not touching the beckoning throbbing
meat of his cock any longer, Reverend Joshua alone in
the field squeezed the thick meaty manhood of his large
thick cock through his overalls. Thumb down, his fingers
pinching his cock into the heel of his palm, sideways
through the fabric, gripping himself in his palm, around
his aching erection, rubbing it, squeezing, pulling, the
electric sensations penetrating every fiber of his
being, images of his loving daughter so ripe and tender
and he knew so sweet to the taste flashed through his
imagination. He'd done the unthinkable the night before;
after Emma had gone to bed, he retrieved her
undershorts, and breathed in the fragrance of his
daughter's pussy. Worse, he'd pressed the crotch of her
panties to his nose, pressed his tongue into the soft
cotton, and licked.
Joshua groaned out loud wrapping as much of his hand
around his needy cock as he could through his pants.
Sliding his hand around himself up and down with the
fabric, his cock swelling harder and harder still, he
growled fiercely enough the horse tried to look past
it's blinder's back toward him.
The sun hot on his face, his breathing deep and long,
faster and faster with images of his little Emma
coursing through him Reverend Joshua could scream he was
so indescribably, amazingly aching hard.
The loose material of his overalls allowed him to slide
his hand up and down, jacking his cock, the erotic
sensations making him crazy with lust, and with no one
but the plow-horse anywhere near, he leaned into the
wooden handle of the plow for support, closed his eyes
and let himself drift deeper and deeper into his erotic
imagination.
He rolled the bloated head of his raging hard cock under
his palm, right there in the field, the sensations of
touching himself, of stroking his erection, thinking of
his little Emma naked made his entire body light up and
hum with sexual energy.
Images of her struggling, her hands bound above her head
made his cock throb with want. Her lovely full breasts
swaying and jiggling under her soft white nightgown.
Images of her begging him to punish her, that she needed
to be punished, that she’d been a wicked, wicked girl,
wicked dirty thoughts, a dirty little girl, thoughts the
Reverend knew were his own.
He saw himself unbuckle his belt, and her eyes widen.
Him pull his belt from around his waist, him threaten to
give her a good lashing, his little girl quiver, her
lick her lips in anticipation, with want. His huge cock
throbbed and ached even more. Images of him raising her
nightgown above her tender little hips. Her pushing her
lovely bottom out to him, “Punish me, Papa” she’d cry,
“such naughty, dirty thoughts, I need, to be, punished,
Papa. Make me a good girl Papa, want to be, your good
girl. Touch my little pussy, Daddy. My bottom. So wet,
Papa, so wet. Touch... my breasts, Daddy. Please...”
she'd plea. "They hurt, Papa, they ache Daddy, need you
to touch them."
The Reverend leaned his head back and groaned. “Yes,
baby, Daddy’s girl. Daddy’s good girl. So wet, lil baby.
Mmmm, let Daddy touch you, let Daddy make you feel good,
Emma.”
His now hugely swollen erection hurt he was so rigidly
hard, his cock so swollen, aching for release, felt so
fucking good. His entire body seethed with the erotic
vibrations pulling on his swollen member caused.
Reverend Joshua almost gasped out loud out under the
blue sky “Ohhhh, little baby” he muttered deliriously,
“nnnn, good girl, need to be taught, need to be shown”
jacking his cock, his little Em looking up at him, her
big eyes, her soft voice, “Show me how, Papa. Want to
please you, Papa.”
“Sweet lord, my little Emma, my little baby, my little
girl, my sweet little baby, oooh lord, give me strength,
such dirty, dirty thoughts about my little Emma” he
struggled, squeezing the head of his enflamed insistent
erection he couldn’t stop rubbing, the image of little
Emma’s naked form burning into his imagination, her
silky long hair, her pearlescent body glistening in the
firelight, her beautiful eyes, her lovely skin, his
baby’s lips. He imagined their kissing. His little
girl’s tongue in his mouth. He groaned.
Joshua couldn’t shake the constant stream of images
going through his mind. His daughter, his little girl,
how he wanted to fuck his own little girl. Images of
her, releasing his little girl from the rafter in the
barn, her hands bound, her body on fire after her
thrashing, thrashings he never actually gave her, her
gown damp sweaty, hot, on fire with want, her hair wild,
her breathing hot and ragged, her legs and bottom red
and welted. Her on her knees in her soft white gown, her
little belly and breasts pressing out to him, for him,
him tear her gown open, her breasts spilling out, her
eyes wild, her beauty unrelenting. Him releasing his
cock from his pants, his little girl’s eyes wide, his
little girl sucking him into her hot wet mouth, his
groaning out, “Ohhh, Emma, yes, little baby, suck Daddy
little baby, nnnn, yes, good girl, just like Daddy
showed you, good girl.” The Reverend worked himself into
a raging erotic need, his overalls now stained dark with
pre-cum pouring from his cock.
He had violent images of her in a frenzy, begging him,
to touch her, him throwing her to the ground, him
pushing her back onto the bails of hay, her arms above
her head, her hands bound, her not sure, if she wanted
him, to take her, her denying how wet she was, how
swollen her breasts were with sexual excitement. Her
helpless to stop him. Her tender legs spread, her
pushing her hot, wet pussy up to him, wanting him to
touch her, "Nnnn, Dadddyy” she’d finally moan. Him tear
her gown away from her writhing body, her fucking
wonderful breasts, her swollen nipples, her lips
quivering with want, her eyes begging him.
He imagined himself between his young daughter's legs,
him spreading her legs open with his legs, his long,
hard, throbbing cock-flesh buried in his daughters
cunny, wet and hot, swollen, pink, and shiny wet, her
creamy satin-smooth pussy sucking him inside her,
wrapping around him, the glove of her soft creamy hot
sex. Her wanting him, him wanting her, begging her
father to fuck her.
He could hear her soft voice turn eager, wanton, “Nnnn,
fuck me Papa, fuck your little Emma, Daddy, nnnn, Daddy,
yes, slide it inside me. Ohhh Daddy, so big, too big,
Papa, ohhhh, nnnn, Papaaaa” gushing all over his huge
animalistic daddy-cock fucking up inside his little
girl. “That’s my good girl, yesss, little baby” the
Reverend fantasized, holding her to him by the backs of
her thighs, rutting into his lil girl, fucking his huge
erection deep into his daughter, his beautiful Emma.
***
Reverend Joshua and his little Emma lived alone together
on the outstretched farm some twenty miles from town.
The nearest neighbors in 1883 were a days ride away in
the wagon, and being so isolated, being so far away from
other people for he and Emma to socialize with, her
Daddy worried that he wouldn't know how to care for his
little baby all on his own; yet he conceded he’d done
quite well, he and his Emma had done quite well
together. Emma was at such a tender growing age. An age
where a young girl needed the affections and direction
of an older woman, a sister. Joshua thought of his wife,
and his mother, Rose, Emma’s Grandma. How she would be
such a good influence on his little Emma.
He hadn't expected to see his little girl in her bath
that night, or expect to see not only how lovely she
was, how much older she looked than he’d really noticed
before now, how much she’d filled out since he’d last
seen her naked when she was much younger, how utterly
sexual she appeared to him, but to see her soaped up
between her legs, carefully use her mother's rubbing
stone he didn't know Emma had found, trimming away her
pubic hair, her so beautifully sculpted.
The sight of his little girl naked in the bath had given
Reverend Joshua a whole new vision of his young
daughter, and a solid erection he had to hide for days
on end.
While he didn’t know it, Emma had begun to imagine being
kissed while her Papa was out working in the fields, and
that she thought of him, too. That it was his lips, his
mouth she wanted to please.
He was acutely aware of his little girl, her exuding a
pure raw wanton sexuality. He saw it in the quick
flashes of her smiles, in the way she moved. He’d caught
himself questioning if these weren’t just the happy,
excited, cheerful lovely looks of his loving daughter.
Whether these impressions weren’t just the devil in him,
convincing him she exuded a radiating, pure, wanton
ripeness, an aura, an alluring fragrance, and he’d begun
to notice that his thoughts of his little Emma had
become more, and more, and more sexual.
His impure lustful thoughts about her if he was honest
he’d had for some time. Thoughts he shouldn’t be having
about his own little girl, his daughter, much less as a
man of the cloth, but Reverend Joshua hadn’t always been
a minister and the devil had been tempting him ever
since.
Isolated as they were, Reverend Joshua didn’t need
anyone but his little girl. He and little Emma were far
away from the nearest town, and while they’d go in for
supplies every month or so, where he'd give a sermon
while there, especially now in the late spring, Reverend
Joshua and young little Emma were proper folk (even if
they were both privately ready to scream with a hidden,
secret lust for one another).
It was just him and little Emma for miles and miles, and
Joshua had to restrain his lustful feelings for his
little girl, the sole feminine presence out here. He’d
thought of taking a new wife, but really Emma was all
the feminine company he needed; they managed the farm
just fine together, and he loved taking care of his
little girl, and her him. He loved teaching her
everything about the farm, the animals, and she was
already as knowledgeable as anyone he knew. He loved how
she'd show him the world afresh with her insights and
interests. They worked well together, got along
incredibly well together. They'd become friends out here
on the farm alone together, companions, father and
daughter.
Even as they’d ride the long trip into town in the horse
drawn one-seat carriage, his little girl’s thighs
rubbing and bouncing against his, their smiles at each
other, her scooting closer so her shoulder rubbed and
bumped against her father’s with the motions of the
wagon, because of his new religious beliefs even
relieving himself was a spiritual struggle he was
reminded in the field that day as he rubbed his erection
through his overalls. As he felt that lovely swelling
heat in his balls, raising himself to orgasm, his soul
raising toward the golden crown at the top of his head.
Joshua’s eyes rolled back as he restrained that first
sweeping wave deciding to hold on to the pent up
arousal, wanting to continue dreaming of fucking his
cock into his little girl’s hands, into her mouth,
between her full breasts.
That he’d become filled with such impure thoughts about
his daughter, his little girl, that he’d begun thinking
wicked thoughts “the devil’s mischief” he’d say, was a
battle with a side of himself from before he’d become a
minister. Add to that being out here so far from
anything with no other relief from his aching balls, the
site of the farm animals mating, the females in seasonal
heat, even the youngest heifer’s and fouls bouncing and
jumping, the air full of the narcotic spring heat, the
side of him from before he became a minister kept
creeping back out. Like when he was pushing the plow,
he’d inadvertently press his cock against the wooden
gear, his mind would wander, the heat making his
imagination wild, remembering his wife, other women he’d
known.
The side of him saying,“It’s just the two of you out
here” he’d catch himself thinking. “She’s young, but
only a little younger as her mother back then, and her
mother loved my huge, hard cock in her little cunny.
Em’s ready” he’d rationalize, “her body is ripe for a
cock. She’d love it, she’d love having a big cock
sliding inside her little cunny just like her momma
did.”
The more he had these thoughts, the more he’d work
himself up, the plow jerking him back to his task before
drifting back off again into his fantasies.
He’d smile at himself, that he was having these thoughts
about his little Emma at all, and then could go further
into the fantasy.
Then again, he knew from experience there was some truth
to his fantasies as well. “I can see it in her looks,
how she stands, how she presses her breasts forward just
like her momma” he’d say out loud, to no one but his
conscience, “how she hugs me (the Reverend’s cock got
harder yet), pushing her groin into my legs, her hugs a
little too long, a little too close” he thought, pulling
his cock to the tempo of these thoughts.
In a moment of guilty pleasure, he cried out loud, “Save
me from the devil, lord, sweet lord save me.” He stroked
his cock, pulled on it igniting a new burst of electric
waves. “Oh lord, how I’d love to slide my cock between
my little Emma’s breasts” (the image of little Emma in
the bath, her too large breasts for such a little petite
girl, ripe and jutting out, her puffy nipples turned
upward), “to slide my cock into her little mouth.”
He saw his little girl’s lovely lips, her eyes
sparkling, her mouth slightly open, the upturned corners
of her mouth, her whispering soft little voice, “Let me
suck you, Papa.”
Reverend Joshua moaned. Her little pussy would love
being licked and sucked he imagined, her bald shiny
mound, her tender little flower, her pink wet sex, his
tongue gliding through her slippery wet folds, the taste
of her, her sweet honeyed cream, remembering the sight
of her smooth, naked mound, and the thing was, he was
right.
Little Emma’s body was constantly on fire, and was
making her crazy with lustful thoughts. She couldn’t
wait to touch herself, and with her Daddy in the fields
and her chores done she stole to her little room, to her
bed, every day, even forgetting to pull the curtain to
the main room closed.
Some days she'd steal away to a little hidden corner of
the barn were she could lean into the bales of hay, pull
up her work dress and rub her hot, wet little cunny,
thinking of her father. She'd rub and squeeze her aching
breasts, pinch her nipples through the fabric of her
dress, slide her fingers inside, touch her hot flesh.
She'd think of her Daddy catching her, his furious
wrath, him grab her, pull her by her hair, throw her
over the bales of hay to thrash her, and change his
mind, deciding instead to show her a lesson.
He'd throw her dress up over her tiny waist exposing her
bare naked bottom to the air of the barn. Her little
cunny hot and shiny and swollen, open to her father's
gaze.
Emma was quivering wet, her eyes closed, her breathing
fast and ragged. He'd undo his pants; she'd hear him
undo his belt, unbutton his pants. He'd growl, "such a
naughty, dirty girl." Emma strummed her fingers over her
clit. "Daddy will show you how to be a good girl for
Daddy" and Emma would cum with a shuddering, quaking
orgasm.
Today Daddy was again in the fields, and there was no
one else around for miles, and Emma felt perfectly safe
leaving the door to the cabin wide open, the sweet
breeze blowing through the cool shade of their home,
gliding over her heated skin.
It was spring, and the openness, the nice weather, all
made her young nipples sing under her work dress out
under the big open blue sky as she imagined her father
discovering her. Even the calves nursing their momma’s
made her nipples want of her father’s mouth, made her
imagine him sucking her swollen aching breasts.
She imagined his mouth on her breasts, “Nnn, Papa, ohhh
Papa, yes, suck my nipples, Daddy, nnn” she'd murmur,
rubbing her large swollen breasts through her dresses.
She knew such lustful impure thoughts were wrong, and
they made her want it even more.
She knew her father would punish her if he knew she
imagined his cock in her little hands, in her mouth,
pleasuring her own father. But she wanted to, she longed
to, she thought about it day and night, each time the
thought crossed her mind, her sex would ripple and ache,
swell, become slippery. Sometimes she wasn't sure if she
was concealing her arousal. If she should any longer.
She knew it had been so long since he’d had a woman. She
knew he would take the belt to her if he knew how wet
her little cunny was. If he knew how wet she’d get when
he punished her, when he’d tell her so forcefully to lay
over his knee. She felt him get hard. She could feel how
big he was. She wondered if he was punishing her for her
purposeful misdeeds, or if he was punishing her because
it gave him a reason to touch her, to rub his cock on
her little belly. She didn’t care which it was.
***
Just that morning Emma had climbed into the tiny attic
space and found the luridly shaped piece of wood in her
grandmother’s wooden chest stored in the makeshift attic
up in the rafters of the cabin.
It was almost hidden, under her grandma’s feminine
things. Hidden because of it’s naughty purpose little
Emma knew.
Her grandma’s things would fit Emma now, so she’d gone
up to see what she might wear. Emma wanted to look
older. She was already mature for her age, and she
wanted to look older, too, for her Daddy.
Grandma Rose had told her when she was old enough she’d
be able to wear some of her hand-me-down under garments
and dresses and such, and this day couldn’t have come
soon enough. She ran the silky cream colored stockings
through her fingers, imagining how they would look on
her, wrapped around the top of her creamy tender thighs.
How her father would look at her, want her, how she'd
seduce him. She found an under-corset, the kind that
pushed a woman’s breasts up, that if worn without an
undershirt would make her nipples point out ripe and hot
for her father’s mouth. Emma flushed. She imagined her
father catching her wearing it, under her dress, his
being furious at her, his losing control, his ripping
her dress open, his pulling on her nipples, his big
hands on her aching breasts, his hot mouth on her
swollen aching breasts.
The women in her family were all “built small” her
grandma would say, “Petite, tiny, little gals, but we
make up for it under our tops” she’d wink at her little
granddaughter already filling out, touching her nipple
with the tip of her fingers causing Emma to tingle,
wanting her grandmother to touch her again, more.
Emma touched her finger to the wooden phallus. Even
though she’d never seen anything quite like it she knew
immediately what it was. Even as she touched it tingles
of excitement ran up her arm and through her breasts,
too large and sensitive for such a little girl. When she
and her Papa would go into town, she’d even notice the
other women staring, such beautiful breasts for a young
woman, not to mention the boys and men, seeing her as
marrying age, and when they’d look she’d feel a mixture
of embarrassment, pride, and a warm yearning.
She liked it when some of them looked, and she
especially liked it when she’d catch her father looking.
A yearning she’d experiment with in bed at night under
her blankets, when she’d pull her night dress up over
her tingling thighs and belly, above her aching breasts,
when she’d pretend she was showing them to her Daddy,
when she’d pretend her own hot little mouth sucking on
her own nipples was her Daddy’s mouth. “Look, Papa”
she’d say under her breath, “look how big they’ve
gotten. Mmm, Papa, yes, it does feel good when you kiss
my breasts, Papa, especially my nipples. Ohhh, Papa,
here, suck the other one now, nnn, Daddy.”
Emma lifted the wooden phallus from the trunk. She felt
that fluttery feeling in her belly, and kneeling in
front of her grandma’s trunk studied the pinkish blonde
wood. Her eyes widened at the reddish purple veins
running along its length that spiraled as it rounded at
the top. She imagined her father's erection, his steely
hard cock.
The wood was perfectly smooth to the touch, well worn
and shiny. She tried to imagine her beautiful Grandma
using it, sliding it between her large breasts. The
curving thick thing spiraling up inside her.
Emma felt hot all over. She turned it in her hands,
breathing harder, faster her heart racing, her pussy
flooding hot wet.
It was carved like a spindle for a fancy staircase, with
bulging rounds larger and larger until about half way
down its length. The varying ridges carved into it’s
slightly curved trunk, and long, one end more broad to
hold on to, each ridge larger than the next toward the
top and then smaller around again toward the bottom, the
top mushroom shaped like a Roman warrior’s helmet. An
image she remembered from her school books before the
first time she saw her father's huge hard cock.
She visualized this thick wooden thing inside her, how
the ridges would work on her little cunny, how it's
design, the ridges, were meant to hold inside her as her
little cunny hummed around it. The wooden thing then
tapered off slightly toward the tip, the end little Emma
knew exactly what it was for, where it was supposed to
go, designed to enter her soft pink creamy wet folds.
Designed to penetrate her young femininity. Emma
shivered.
Her little fingers barely fit around the huge thing in
her tiny hands. Quivering with nervous energy, heated,
thrilling naughty excitement, her fingers wrapped around
its base and Emma’s breathing again quickened as she
held the stick up close to her mouth.
Her eyes scanning along its length, Emma felt flush and
warm all over and had the urge to touch the smooth,
thick tip to her cheeks, avoiding her actual thought,
that she wanted to kiss it, that she wanted to lick it,
that she wanted to practice sucking it into her warm wet
mouth, to practice for her father.
Emma’s grandma had lived alone, and might one day move
in with her and Daddy, but this afternoon Emma had the
house all to herself, at least for awhile after her
chores were done.
She again thought of her Grandma Rose, her radiant soft
smile, the way her eyes would look at you, so alluring,
so sexual, how young she was. Emma felt that fluttery
feeling in her tummy again. Her Grandma Rose had had
that effect on her. She looked a lot like her Grandma
people would say, and Emma liked the compliment.
Her Grandma was gorgeous, petite like Emma, with large
round breasts, a tapered femininely tiny waist, her hips
just right, and slender. She’d walk in such a way that
men would trip over themselves as she passed. Rose
looked much younger than her years, and was a really
very beautiful woman, Emma thought. Emma hoped she’s be
as beautiful when she grew up as her grandma. She
remembered how her Grandma Rose had touched her
sensitive nipple, the glint in her grandma’s eyes, and
Emma’s little pussy was slippery again, her breasts
suddenly hot as she wrapped her fingers around the trunk
of wood in her little hands, slid them down its length,
her fingers sliding over each successive ridge.
Emma touched one hand between her legs, feeling herself
through her dress, the curved smooth stick pressed
between her young bosom, closing her eyes as she slid
it’s huge tip to her lips, the overwhelming sensation
causing her eyes to flutter knowing what she would do
with this thing in secret.
She’d already been looking for shapes like this, even if
she was unaware she was. Maybe that’s why she got
slippery when she saw it there in the trunk. The perfect
shape with the most wicked bulges she thought hotly, her
eyes widening as she felt that butterfly feeling in her
tummy, and the buttery feeling between her legs again,
thinking of her father, his cock hard under her, her
draped over his lap as he spanked her, her wishing,
wanting her Daddy to touch her.
***
In retrospect Reverend Joshua knew he’d unconsciously
been looking for an excuse, any excuse to be closer to
his little girl. Closer wasn’t quite accurate. They
were, close. He and his daughter had a wonderfully close
relationship. He’d gone too long without relief though,
and his cock was taking him over. Springboard-hard at
the slightest provocation, his nerves on edge. He was
like a wild animal, a beast. Brimming with confidence,
power, his testosterone levels peaked, his body a
lightning rod.
Emma had noticed her father’s edge; it excited her and
scared her at the same time. He got like this
occasionally. She’d see him looking at her like he was a
wild untamed beast, and she was his prey. She didn’t
entirely understand what it was that came over her
father in moments like this. Or what came over her. The
compelling sense she wanted to submit to that power, her
want to have him over her, above her, to be utterly
female to his masculine maleness. She didn’t realize his
body was the same as hers, that without relief, her body
too would feel like it would explode if she didn’t touch
herself, let herself cum, that this sexual rage had
built to an explosive overwhelming place in her father,
too.
Joshua had been feeling guilty that his thoughts were so
frequently the devils temptations. Almost minute by
minute this last week, or two, his thoughts playing
through images of his little girl. Images that now had
become entire scenes playing through his heated
imagination. Scenes becoming more, and more aggressive,
of just taking his little Emma.
It was early in the morning. Emma was still in her
nightgown. Reverend Joshua kept watching her, looking at
her as she moved about the small cabin, doing her usual
morning preparations.
Emma had noticed her father had awakened with an
erection, a throbbing, seething aching hard erection
protruding under his calve length white cotton sleeping
gown.
Something in him snapped. Sitting on the edge of his
unmade bed, his voice deep, a snarl almost, he at first
seemingly calmly called Emma over to him.
He had rationalized his daughter was teasing him in her
nightgown, her swaying jostling breasts, her long hair,
her young tender hips. Even though this morning was no
different than any other morning, she was especially
provocative, her breasts so full and firm and jutting
out under the thin soft cotton nightdress, her naked
form, her sleepy fragrance, something, everything about
her, her pheromones in every particle of air around him.
Emma sensed all was not all right. She looked like a
deer in the sights of a wolf. Partially stunned, she
gingerly walked over to her father.
Before she could say, “Yes, Papa?” he’d grabbed her by
her wrist. She saw his eyes look at her breasts shake
and jiggle with the violent pull on her arm, her tender
little body under her gown, her beautiful long hair wavy
and messy having just woken up; to Reverend Joshua, she
had that look of a woman wanting to be fucked, and his
erection bounced and swayed standing hugely erect under
his white gown.
Emma noticed her father’s gown unbuttoned to the middle
of his chest, his chest hair, the strength of his neck,
the hardness of his collar bone. She saw him, handsome,
powerful, sensual. In that fraction of an instant, she
felt her little pussy become slippery, her body alight.
She hadn’t said a word, her mouth hanging open at the
suddenness of her father’s taking her wrist, before he’d
pulled her off balance, pulled her toward him, and in a
surprisingly fluid movement had wrangled her over his
legs, over his lap, her belly and breasts over his
muscular thighs.
His big hand around her wrist pulled her to him, her arm
over his thigh his hip, behind him, against him, to him,
and holding her there like she was paper light, the heat
of their bodies, the warmth through their nightgowns
searing into each other's naked arousal.
So surprised, her eyes wide, she tried to look back at
her father’s face to see his eyes, to get him to see her
as he let go of her wrist, her fingers of both hands
steadying herself on the floor, as he then pressed down
hard between her shoulders with his left hand hot on her
skin through her gown. She felt him pull her by her
thigh closer against him on his broad lap with the
other, her little bottom high in the air over her
father's lap.
Her father hadn’t spanked her in some time. She hadn’t
done anything, purposeful or not in a while. Yet she
knew he was about to spank her, and it excited her
whether or not she'd done anything to deserve it. She
welcomed it actually. Had missed it. That erotic charge,
draped over her father’s lap, his hold on her like a
wild beast. Her nipples were hot and ached. Hs power
overwhelming, sexual, erotic.
She felt it. How couldn’t she? Her father was hard.
She’d seen his huge cock under his gown before he’d even
grabbed her wrist. It all happened so fast. She felt her
father’s hugely swollen, rigid hard cock pressing into
her belly. She could sense everything about him tense.
She looked back at him. He was looking at her bottom.
She felt so undignified before she even realized she was
raising her bottom to her father’s glare. She watched
him raise his arm. Her little cunny gushed. Her father’s
cock swelled, jumped, throbbed under her. The pain was
so great, that first clap of her father’s big hand on
her bottom, the side of her bottom, the side of her
upper thigh. She jumped and bounced and he pulled her
tighter still.
The second landed squarely on her right cheek, furthest
from him. The third, nearly in the same place. Neither
of them spoke. She didn’t ask why. He didn’t offer an
answer. She began crying, tears streaming down her
cheeks, her little cunny gushing, creamy wet, her
nipples aching, her entire body wanting touch, her
father's cock raging under her, her bottom on fire.
The fourth clap resonated throughout the small cabin.
Emma’s entire body jumped from the jolting shock. She
cried out. Emma lost track at that point. She could hear
the cracks, the pops, the slapping sounds of her
father’s hand now as hot as her glowing red bottom under
her gown.
Her tears ran hot down her cheeks. Her little pussy
hummed and was dripping hot wet. She could hear his
breathing, feel his heat, his sweat in the heat of the
cabin. She heard him groan. His cock was rock hard. Her
little cunny was dripping wet. She couldn’t almost
believe she’d cum several times. Her father tried to
suppress his groan. She felt his cock spasming under
her. Her gown become damp under her belly.
The spanking stopped. Them both staying there for
several long minutes. Both breathing hard and hot before
Joshua helped his daughter stand, barely able to look
his little girl in the eyes.
Emma wanted to tell her father, she’d cum, that he’d
made her cum, three, four times. That she wanted more.
***
Emma knew her grandmother was different. She had
overheard the gossips talk about her Grandma, the
church-ladies the same age as her beautiful Grandma, how
they whispered with tightened lips as Emma and her
father passed by, that she had been possessed by the
devil, that she was an evil, wicked woman who threw
herself at men, a “wanton slut” one old woman in town
had said. Emma grew angry.
Emma thought of her grandma as being a “free spirit” not
evil and wicked, but maybe the old-ladies were right?
Maybe she was wicked like her Grandma, and if so, so be
it. These feelings in her were something she didn't want
to hide, conceal, deny.
Holding the smooth rounded phallus in her tiny hands,
Emma was suddenly worried that the devil was in her,
too, that he must be, why else would such a little girl
be so wet between her legs? Why else would she want to
kiss the wooden thing in her little hands, lick it, rub
it between her swollen breasts. Why else would her
nipples ache and her breasts swell as they did?
Why else would she not be able to stop herself from
touching herself every chance she could? Why else would
she daydream about being back in bed at night so she
could raise her breasts to her own mouth, imagining her
Daddy, her own father, in bed with her? Why else would
she become so wet watching heathen animals rutting on
the farm?
Emma licked the wooden phallus in her tiny hands, taking
a deep breath, and on the exhale, whispered, “Mmmm,
Dadddyyy, want you, in my mouth, Papa. Let me” she
moaned as she brushed the smooth wooden phallus across
her trembling lips, over her glowing hot flushed cheeks.
She must be possessed, she thought, Satan must he in her
too, making her little cunny wet with desire for her own
father and making it feel so good. She knew it was
wrong, that it was the devil’s doing, but she couldn’t
stop herself, wasn’t at all sure she wanted to stop
herself. Emma licked the shiny smooth knob of the wooden
thing, opened her little mouth, closed her eyes, saw
herself kneel in front of her father as he sat in his
big chair, saw herself lower her mouth over him as she
slid the knob into her wet little mouth.
She decided she’d have to pray a lot if she used this
thing in her, if she slid it inside her little cunny, if
she continued to imagine her father’s kisses, his
tongue, his... cock. If she slid it inside her, she
would be inviting the devil inside her body, and she
wasn’t sure how to get him back out, whether she wanted
him out.
She began sucking on the knob, instinctively, letting it
slip slowly wet in and out of her little mouth. Emma
touched her seething hot little cunny through her dress.
She pictured her father standing before her, his hands
in her hair, guiding her, teaching her how to please him
***
After finding the smooth wooden stick, little Emma
wasn’t sure if she’d be able to wait until that night to
try it.
She could barely stand waiting to get her chores done so
she could slip into the cabin, and try her new toy. She
even stood and watched the big bull’s cock slide inside
the heifer out by the barn; she watched disbelieving,
that huge solid thing, wet and shiny, could go so deep
inside the young female cow, her swollen sex, slide so
effortlessly in and out, spreading the flesh of the girl
cow open.
She shuddered with a gush of creamy slipperiness
squeezing her legs together, "Nnnn, ohhh god" she
hummed, almost doubled over, her little cunny so on
fire. Seeing the heifer’s look of total pleasure, her
total abandon pressing back into the huge bull’s lunges
Emma felt the rush of excitement, the slippery wetness,
imagined herself sliding the carved wooden implement,
this huge thing inside her little cunny. She imagined
her father behind her, his hugely swollen cock, her
nipples tingling and her breasts swelling, his opening
his gown, his lifting hers, his big fingers marking her
tender hips, him bending her over. Little Emma knew she
couldn’t wait until that night.
The days heat and her imagination were making her almost
faint with her naughty wicked thoughts; the devil had
her now, she knew, she was wicked too, just like her
grandma. If she was, well, so be it the little girl
resigned herself. The minute she saw it there in the
attic, the minute she wrapped her little fingers around
its girth, she knew what it was for; she had seen the
farm animals doing it, and she tingled all over, her
heart racing, her eyes big as saucers. She knew it would
feel better than her fingers because it could go deeper.
Emma wanted it deeper.
She saw herself, her legs spread wide, her guiding this
thick thing to her seething, glowing, hot little cunny.
The wickedness of it all caused her a shiver, and she
tingled all over and shuddered all the way up her spine.
Her entire body singing, tingling, in want of something,
"this thing” she breathed, squeezing it in her hot
little hands.
Even though she felt her thoughts were bad, she wanted
it, she wanted to kiss it, she wanted to feel it in her
mouth again.
She must resist, she told herself again. Daddy will know
what to do. If I can’t control myself, if I don’t have
the strength to stop Satan, Daddy will know what to do.
He’ll cast the devil out of me, he’ll send the
wickedness away. I’ll try it just this once, and if the
devil has me, Papa will know what to do.
She knew, when she finished her chores, when she could,
she would go into the cabin while Daddy was still out
plowing, that he wouldn’t be back for hours.
She didn’t want her father to get upset that she hadn’t
done her chores when he came back in from working so
hard in the fields, but the entire time she did them all
she could think about was sliding the rounded hunk of
smooth wood inside her hot little pussy.
Her fingers were wonderful, but they weren’t enough
anymore. She intended to slide this hunk of veined hard
wood, smooth worn and ribbed from use from her own
grandma’s cunny for all these years, since she was
Emma’s age, clenching around it, this, dare she say it,
cock, inside her little pussy, just as soon as she
finished her chores.
Emma’s couldn’t believe how wet she was, and raced to
finish feeding the goats and chickens. As she came
around the barn she saw the bull eyeing another of the
little heifers.
The little girl almost melted right there seeing the
older experienced bull mount the young female. She could
barely breath as she watched the bull slide inside the
young girl cow, to her mooing satisfaction.
An image of Emma’s father flashed through Emma’s heated
thoughts. Little Emma imagined the wooden phallus going
inside her as she fell back against the barn, as she
pressed her fingers into her little cunny through her
dress. She imagined her father’s cock sliding inside
her, and little Emma almost came right there.
“Help me, feels so good” she breathed out, rocking her
little hips into her hands, “want, something, in me,
want it...” she trailed off, “in me” as she watched the
bull humping into the heifer, the crooning girl-cow. She
squeezed her aching breasts, her eyes closed, moaning
and mewling, so hot, her little cunny on fire.
She pictured the wooden phallus, inside under her
mattress, and she knew it’s what she wanted, and she
knew the devil must be inside her she worried, but she
didn’t know what to do, the impulse to touch herself was
so strong, the desire to slide that wooden thing inside
her beyond her ability to control herself.
Daddy would know what to do, she sighed. The image of
the bull and of her father intermingling, the wooden
phallus, her Daddy the older bull, sliding, inside her,
into her, her wet little bare smooth slit. Emma could
barely breathe, didn’t breathe, her eyes fluttering, her
pussy clenching warm and slippery, wanting something,
inside her. “Nnnn, Papa” Emma moaned, “Daddy, in me,
Daddy.”
It must be Satan making her feel these things, tempting
her; she should resist it, him, I’m the minister’s
little girl after all. I more than anyone should be able
to resist the devil and his wickedness. Yet even as she
struggled with these thoughts, she knew she would do
more than just rub the rounded head of the long smooth
curved stick against her slippery pink sex under the
covers. She would do more than just slide it between her
pressed together breasts, something else the devil had
shown her in her thoughts she could do with it. She
would do more than kiss it, like she kissed her dolls
pretending. This was much more than her fingers
pleasuring her little pussy, and she was almost frantic
to try.
She'd slide it like a big finger over her tender little
virgin folds. She’d get it all wet with herself like she
did with her fingers. She'd slide it inside herself,
into the place inside that tingled for something, this
thing, this big smooth thick thing, that place her
fingers couldn’t reach, the place she wanted her father
to touch.
“No! she told herself, “No devil, stop it! Get out of
me, Satan!” She stood up from leaning against the barn,
straightened her work dress, tried to gather herself.
Still though, as she walked from the barn her thoughts
crept back to the phallus, and to the bull still sliding
that huge thing into the crooning cow, that thing, the
bull and her Daddy, and she returned to planning how she
would slip the phallus insider her, unable to suppress
her wicked thoughts.
Images of that thing sliding up inside her, of her
spreading her legs for it, stripping off her work
clothes, sweaty hot, raising her nightdress, in
anticipation, thinking what she was going to do, her
little cunny dripping wet, her nipples fiery and swollen
under her dress as she quickened her step, imagining
what this thing would feel like sliding through her
juices deep inside her.
Little Emma was shaken and damp under her dress, beside
herself as she broke into a run towards the cabin and
toward the thick, smooth ribbed, wicked, naughty thing
she desired hidden under her mattress.
***
From the open cabin door Reverend Joshua stood frozen.
He watched at first in disbelief his little girl from
the doorway. His little girl, laying on her bed in the
middle of the day. He’d come in from the fields, his
body still tingling, his cock like a hair trigger,
hardening at almost any thought of his little girl.
At first he thought maybe she’d taken ill. Then he
realized what he was seeing.
Her knees spread impossibly wide, her legs in the air,
her toes pointed. His cock twitched. Her pressing
against the mattress, raised up on her toes, her eyes
closed, her soft shiny wet pussy humping into her tiny
wet fingers, her breathing slow and ragged, his little
girl naked from the waist down. His cock shifted, filled
with blood. Her delicate fingers buried in her pussy.
His cock raised inside his overalls.
From his accidental vantage at the door he was looking
directly at her rounded bottom and her open little
cunny, between her pale smooth thighs. His cock was
rigid hard in seconds. Her little bald slit spread open,
pink and bare, smooth like a wet fresh peach, her creamy
pale skin, soft and warm, her tender flesh undulating,
beckoning to her father, her breathing, her groans, her
mewling kittenish moans pulling him like a moth to
flame. His cock, swollen, throbbed, ached for her.
Right in that split moment, Joshua felt himself give in
to what he knew was the devil in him. Satan was making
him fill with an unbridled, irreversible lust, seeing
his daughter's hot beautiful little cunt, bald and pure
and ripe and ready for cock, even if that beautiful
little cunny belonged to his little girl, Emma. She was
a woman now, and he had a duty as her father, he told
himself, as a man he said inside his rationalizing mind.
He felt a flash of anger, of protectiveness. His little
girl was being driven by Satan, her legs spread open by
Satan, her beautiful pussy exposed to the open room.
Her writhing a sure signal of the devil in his little
girl, the devil upon her, on top of his little girl,
tempting her with his wickedness, licking at her,
teasing and torturing his little girl with his devilish
hot prick.
“Nnnnn, nnnnn, uhhhh" Emma groaned, “mmmmm, nnnnn” his
little girl mewled. His cock was pounding. He wrapped
his palm over it through his overalls, squeezed, and it
raged back. Reverend Joshua began jacking his cock
through the fabric of his overalls again, as he had in
the field, his little girl moaning and wriggling,
humping her bald little cunny into her fingers.
Emma’s bed faced out into the front room of the cabin,
and Joshua watched his little Emma roll on top of the
fluffy quilt, onto her right side, her work dress
rumpled on the floor next to her bed and her frilly
white thin cotton undertop loose and unlaced to her
glowing soft belly.
His gaze drawn to her swollen pink nipples pushing their
way out from behind the material, making his little baby
look like a wanton sexual feast to her Daddy’s sex
starved eyes, made his cock ache and throb for her like
it had in the field, but this was real, not his
imagination. He stood there, jacking his huge hard
throbbing cock, watching his little girl masturbate.
Himself jacking his hugely hard cock, watching his
little girl.
Emma groaned and in a quick succession of mewls and
moans, breathed out “Nnnnnn, ohhhhh, Papaaaaa, mmm,
yesss, touch me, Papaaaa.”
His little baby purred, squealed, hummed. The Reverend’s
mouth fell open, his eyes wide before he gushed out a
breath, squeezed his cock even harder, pulled on his
cock even harder.
His little girl’s swollen breasts, creamy pale and flush
with excitement, her nipples pointed and puffy and
swollen bounced and swayed with her motions.
From the door Joshua looked up at her, at the undersides
of her conical meaty firm breasts standing so her
nipples appeared just that much more pointed and tender,
capped like enflamed strawberries, and he was
overwhelmed with the desire to take her tender little
hips in his big hands, her little cunny humping at his
thick, hard cock, his head at her chest, his mouth at
his little girl’s breasts, squeezing them in his big
hands, sucking her exquisite nipples, sucking them,
licking them, mouthing them as he looked into little
Emma’s face, her eyes, his fingers buried in her
beautiful pussy. “Oh sweet mother of Mary” he breathed
out more sexually aroused than he’d ever been, aroused
by his precious little Emma, his little girl, his
daughter.
The sun was blazing behind him at the doorway, his cock
blazing hard in front of him, like a divining rod, her
belly and hips and legs in the shaded cabin so pale and
fresh and stunningly tender.
Her translucent skin made her seem otherworldly, ripe,
glowing, pure, an angel with sexual allure, an allure
that tempted him like no other temptation.
An ordained man he shouldn’t be looking at his daughter
like he was, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. He
should have more restraint than other men, he should be
able to control his sexual urges, to stop jacking his
seething hard cock, but the devil had Reverend Joshua in
his devilish grasp, too.
His little girl mesmerizing to look at, her nakedness,
her pure nudity writhing on the bed, he stayed there at
the door, transfixed, not ten feet from his naked little
girl rubbing herself between her open legs.
“Nnnnnn, Papaaaa, your dirty girl, Papa” his daughter
mewled into the open air, her legs spread perversely
wide, her head rolling back and forth, her pushing her
humping pussy into her hands, just feet away.
“My God, what a vision” the Reverend thought, jacking
his hot swollen aching cock, staring at his little girl,
suddenly believing he must rescue his little girl from
the devil’s grasp, from the devil’s hot smoldering red
prick.
The Reverend Joshua watched little Emma raise her left
thigh holding it there suspended off the bed, her back
arched, the small of her curved back tapering from her
bottom pressed out, her creamy thighs spread apart, so
soft and splayed to her wicked minister Daddy’s gaze.
Her baldness divine, her entire smooth female body open
and hungry writhing wet and on fire in heat, his cock in
his hand through his overalls salivating at the sight of
his daughter.
Joshua could smell the fragrance of her all the way
across the room. It was like warm honey, sweet-cream,
apple-butter flowery, a fragrance no man could ever
forget, hauntingly beautiful, the smell of pussy a
nectar that a man honed in on, desired.
He studied his little Emma’s girlish, womanly curves,
jerking his huge cock, watching her, her dainty and
feminine motions, the way her breasts squeezed between
her slender arms, her lovely round shoulders, her hips
so tender and ready to be firmly held in a man’s hands.
Her sex, Joshua thought to himself, imagining himself on
top of his little girl, his long cock inside her, her
spread open, her bucking up to meet his thrusts, was
ready for an aching swollen cock to slide inside her, a
man’s cock, his cock, the devil in both of them, they’d
have to heal each other no matter what or how long it
took.
Emma raised her fingers to her mouth, and slid them
inside, sucking, moaning, tasting herself, “Nnnnn, Papa,
kiss me, Papa” unaware her father was watching.
Next: Chapter II: The Bath
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in
real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real
life" can look forward to many unproductive years
getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their
local prison system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 70