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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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WARNING!
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The Reverend Joshua and His Little Emma - 2
by Sumddy (sumddy@gmail.com)
***
In Chapter II the incestuous heat builds between the
Reverend Joshua and his daughter, Emma, as sits in his
chair smoking his pipe and watches her prepare her bath.
(Mf, ped, exh, voy, inc, mast, oral, bd)
***
Chapter II: The Bath 2010
Emma carried the kettles of steaming hot water one after
another to the small tub in the middle of the room, the
sound of the water filling the white porcelain metal
basin like a rushing brook, the fire crackling and
popping in the hearth.
She liked the feeling of her father watching her. Her
movements carrying the hot kettle back and forth, the
steam filling the tub making her perspire, her thin
white nightgown clinging softly to her rounds, a nightly
ritual, just her and her Papa, the Reverend and his
daughter together on the rural prairie farm.
The night before, all alone after her Daddy had gone out
to tend to the animals before nightfall, she tingled all
over standing in the tub. Pouring the hot silky water
over herself, the dripping sounds beneath her, being so
naked and wet and soapy and warm; nude, right there in
the room where her father had just been too, him just
outside.
Emma fantasized her soapy hands were his, slipping
between her thighs, washing her, her pushing her bottom
out so he could get her clean like he had when she was
young. Him behind her now, now that she’d filled out,
him washing her breasts, squeezing, pulling, his breath
hot against the side of her face. Her father hadn’t
bathed her in quite some time, and she missed that
intimacy together, just her and her father, his little
girl. She imagined him now, her fantasy, his growling
hot whispering voice, his words now taking on a whole
new meaning.
“Let Daddy get you all clean, Em. Let Daddy wash you,
baby. Bend over so Daddy can wash your bottom, sweetie.”
She missed his big hands lathering her hair. Imagined
him now, gripping her hair in his fist, the rumbling
from deep within chest, his voice spilling out “Em. Oh
lil baby, you’ve grown up so much, baby.”
Emma imagined her father’s big hands all over her,
everywhere at once, touching her, feeling her, making
her so wet, so hot. “Nnn, touch me, Papa” she breathed
out into the hushed cabin, strumming her soapy fingers
through her little slit, “nnngggh, Daddyyy, yess, pull
on my nipples, Papa” picturing her father naked behind
her, her reaching back, gripping his solid hard erection
in her little hand, pulling, twisting, squeezing her
father’s hot throbbing cock so huge in her little hand.
Emma gushed out a vibrating electric sigh, “Oohhhh god,
Daddyyyyy, want, want you in me Papa.” She’d pictured
the bull rutting with the young heifer. She pictured
washing her father's thick swollen cock, tried to
imagine it's thick throbbing hardness in her little
hands, sliding her soapy little hands up and down her
father's hugely hard erection.
The bathing tub was barely big enough for her to sit in
anymore, so she stood like Daddy did and poured water
over herself at night with the water heated in the big
hearth. She was lovely. Her soft round curves. Her
narrow little waist. Her little bottom. Her creamy
pearlescent thighs. The way she stretched and bent and
leaned, her full ripe swollen hot breasts throbbing and
aching to be touched. Images of her father's big hands
cupping her bottom, her breasts, her soft warm pink
little slit.
Tending the fire for the tub water, she watched her
handsome father sitting and smoking his pipe across the
room just as he did each night, just within the flicker
of firelight, the few lit candles next to the tub
illuminating his little girl to his watchful presence.
Emma smiled, and her father smiled back at her. His
pipe-smoke sweet and nutty made her feel warm inside.
They often went without saying a word like this, him
watching her, father and daughter, spending so much time
alone together: Just a simple smile full of thoughts and
words and subtle meanings, immense intimacies, a gesture
conveying their contentment together.
They spent every evening like this after a long day on
the farm, just the two of them, Emma and her Papa,
taking care of each other.
Emma sometimes liked to pretend she was her father’s
wife, and he her husband; and, not knowing, that was
what she was thinking, her father just smiled back,
puffing quietly on his pipe, hot, incestuous fantasies
of her, his lil Em. If only he knew his little Emma was
having fantasies of him too, hot, naughty, wicked
incestuous fantasies. That the devil had taken his
lovely daughter over too, that she was imagining her
father fucking her, sliding her nightgown up over her
tender little hips, tearing her gown away, attacking her
aching swollen tits.
Emma felt the Reverend watch her as she bent over, and
leaning further with the emptying kettle, her too large
breasts leaning away from her body, her hardened nipples
tingling against the material of her nightdress, she
wondered if he was hard watching her. If he imagined her
under her nightdress laced all the way to her long neck.
She had no idea how much her body was changing, how her
hormones were ablaze inside her when she caught herself
pushing her bottom out, catching herself without
realizing, and then remembering it’s what she saw the
female animals do as the males mounted them. She
shivered. The way they’d lift their bottoms, push up
toward the male, lean down, open their legs, let him
inside.
Standing there, leaning forward pouring the water into
the tub, she became acutely aware of her legs slightly
spread, aware of her naked little pussy under her
billowy nightdress the only thing between her and the
room, between her and her Daddy, between her and her
Papa’s watching, his smile from behind his pipe.
It was a good thing her father couldn’t see under her
nightdress, she thought, suddenly self-conscious that
her father the Reverend would know her most intimate,
private, and impure thoughts. Her holy Daddy, the
reverend, or that he would notice her firm young breasts
so swollen and tingling with excitement, that she was
picturing the farm animals fucking, him, fucking her.
That he would notice her glowing hot nakedness
underneath her nightdress, her smooth glistening bald
little pussy she’d again just rubbed smooth bare, naked
and warm and soft and slippery wet, swollen, ripe, the
warmth of the cabin brushing up under her nightgown,
fluttering between her legs, her little pussy almost
exposed as it was under the billowy thin white fabric.
Maybe she should tell him now, about how the devil had
been tempting her? About how wet her little pussy was,
how her breasts ached, how she desired being touched,
how she desired him, her own father. How she thought
about him that way all the time.
Maybe she should ask him to cast the devil out. She
wanted to, but she couldn’t. What if Daddy thought she
was bad, that she was wicked? She felt like she was bad,
a wicked, naughty, dirty little girl. She shivered
again. Felt conflicted. Loved the feeling of her
wickedness.
What if Daddy thought she had invited the devil inside
her? Her father was smiling love at her, for his little
girl, and here she was having such impure thoughts. Here
she was flush with the heat of her breasts and nipples,
flush with the heat of images of animals rutting, big
hard cocks sliding into warm wet pussies, her so nude
under her nightdress, her hot little cunny, that feeling
again warm and buttery inside her belly.
Reverend Joshua watched his little girl, her every
movement, smiling, smoking his pipe, loving her, wanting
her, his cock throbbing hard hidden from her view.
Emma went on filling the tub, again finding herself
acting out the pouring, exaggerating her leans and
bends, leaning her weight forward so excited she was
almost shaking, her one leg extended behind her, her
hair cascading around her beautiful face hiding her
glowing warm arousal, the slipperiness between her legs,
her nipples throbbing hard under her nightdress. She
could barely breathe. Her father in that exact moment
was imagining his fingers combing through her hair,
pulling her mouth to his, pushing his tongue into his
little girl’s warm wet mouth.
She felt beautiful and feminine in the candlelight,
under her father’s gaze. She wondered if Daddy noticed.
“I want him to” she purred inside. “I want Papa to look
at me” she purred inside, bending and turning, again
emphasizing her breasts hanging down, so firm bumping
and brushing and swaying under the cotton material of
her gown. “I want him, to, want me” she admitted, her
breasts surging with her excitement, her nipples
tingling, even aching they’d swollen so big. “Nnn, look
at me Papa” she fantasized, looking up under and through
her hair to see if he was.
She thought she saw her Daddy’s eyes drop to her chest,
but she wasn’t sure. She tingled all over. “Yesss, look
at my breasts Papa, look at my nipples, nnn, Papa,
they’re so, hard, Papa” she gushed under her breath,
turning, moving so he could see.
She felt at ease with her Daddy there, in the dark of
the flickering glow of the candle and fire lit room, and
she smiled at him again, bashfully, flushed, looking
away blushing as she poured the steaming hot water into
the tub. Blushing as the jolts of excitement her
father's looks gave her, made her want, made her warm
all over, her father's long hot gaze penetrating her
shyness, her thin almost translucent gown, her breasts
swollen and aching hot for him. She was sure she could
smell herself, her sex, worried her father would smell
her soft little pussy so dripping hot wet under her
gown, steam rising up around her, glowing in the
firelight, Emma’s breasts and neck and her face sweaty
damp, she poured the last hot water from the large
kettle into the wash basin.
Her gown clung to the round of her belly. Her breasts
sticky damp from the steam, the heat from the fire, her
long shiny hair draped over her girlish-round shoulders.
Aware her nipples were poking through her gown, humming,
wanting her father’s hands, her father’s mouth to touch
them, to lick and kiss them, to come up behind her and
wrap his arms around her, to cup her throbbing swollen
tits in his big hands, she turned and faced him, her
hands folded in front of her squeezing her breasts out,
the expectant slight smile, her soft lips, the look she
gave him, that she was ready, that her bath was ready,
was he going out as he did each night while she bathed?
She didn’t want him to; she wanted him to look at her,
to whisper in a low silent voice, to tell her to remove
her gown. She pictured herself unbutton the buttons, it
fall from her shoulders, spill from her, undressing her,
naked and dripping hot wet, naked, there for his
pleasure, his gaze, almost panting hot for her own
father, her fantasied incestuous lover.
Emma couldn’t stop herself from rubbing her legs
together, hoping her Daddy would notice her nipples,
notice that she was in trouble, that he would know what
to do, offer to heal the squishy feeling there between
her warm little thighs. “Nnn, Daddy, if only you knew,
Papa” she hummed in her thoughts.
She knew her father looked at her, sometimes longer than
was comfortable, and she liked that he was. That she was
naked under her gown, gave her such a thrilling feeling,
so tantalizingly aroused that Daddy didn’t know the
things she’d been thinking about. Her secret, her
fantasies, that she’d touch herself to in private
moments.
She was at that age when boys would be looking at a
young girl, mirroring her attractiveness. Men too, and
she was learning to flirt with her Daddy. There weren’t
any boys for miles around to show her those natural
attentions, and Emma felt a special new tingling buzz
between her legs when her father looked at her that way.
She wondered if it was the same for him with no other
women around. She'd push her breasts out as they talked,
wanting him to look.
She knew she wasn’t supposed to feel like she did, her
little pussy feeling so warm the way it did, tingling
and slippery, her biting her lower lip. The church-women
in their tightly bound hair and bound up in their
layered dresses had said it was the devil tempting her.
That it was Satan’s job to put carnal thoughts into
young girl’s minds, to tempt them, and they should
resist his temptations with all their might. She should
resist wanting to see boys naked, the looks of desire
men would certainly give her, if they weren’t already.
That out on the farms, so isolated, that men needed
relief, and that they'd seek it from her. That they'd
look at their wives, their daughters, even their
sisters, have the devil's wicked thoughts. That she
shouldn't do anything to tempt them. That chastity and
purity was the lord's will.
She wanted to say to them, that she’d been looking at
her father that way, just to make the old hens fret. She
noticed they looked flustered as they spoke of Satan and
temptation, that they’d look away, and not look her in
the eye when they told her what to expect, that their
voices would become hushed, that they’d look a little,
well, aroused, pretending they weren't.
The old women told little Emma and the other girls she
shouldn’t blame herself if she asked for help to do
better, if she prayed for salvation, like they did, they
blushed; but the little girl at times thought salvation
might be giving in to Satan rather than opposing him.
She began to believe, maybe it wasn’t Satan at all, that
maybe she was supposed to feel these things, she wanted
to tell them but she didn't.
Emma’s body burned with these feelings. She desired the
feelings often, each, and every day more, and more, and
when she did they’d wash over her until she was slippery
wet, her little body humming, her breasts aching for
touch, for her father’s big hands, her father’s mouth.
She didn’t think about other boys. She thought about her
handsome father.
The old women told her one day she would marry, and she
and the man would procreate they said, but that she
shouldn’t enjoy it, that that would be bad. That she
should ask for forgiveness, that she should ask that
Satan be cast out of her body, her ripe hungry body,
that he be pulled from her body, from her thoughts that
were his, and banished.
Emma wasn’t at all sure she wanted these thoughts or the
feeling to go away, not forever, not these deliciously
naughty stirrings she delighted in and wanted. She
thought about procreating though, her father's seed in
her little belly, his big warm hand on the round of her
belly.
***
Emma didn't realize the fireplace light was illuminating
her naked form through her nightdress as she went back
and forth between the fireplace and the bathing tub
right there in the middle of the room; or, that, where
Daddy’s chair was, was giving him a view right through
her nightdress, the firelight glowing through, a perfect
almost transparent silhouette. That her father was
seeing all of her, her jiggling swaying proud breasts,
her perfectly round little hips, the gap between her
inner thighs, the bulge of her mound.
She hadn’t realized how over time he’d moved the chair
across the room, opposite the fireplace, across from the
middle of the room where they’d pull the tub out to for
their baths, or, at least, why he had.
Daddy just sat smiling, rocking in his chair, smoking
his pipe, sitting in the near dark, being with his
little girl in the quiet spring evening there on the
farm together.
The cabin’s walls of thick timbers packed with hay and
mud quieted most all the outside sounds except for the
crickets murmur, and the two of them alone together
seemed more pronounced, more palpable than usual this
evening. Emma decided she liked the feeling, being so
close to her loving father, being naked under her gown
in the same room with him all alone out on the farm,
just her and her loving Daddy.
Joshua watched his little girl cross the room, back and
forth from the fire to the tub, barefoot, the balls of
her bare feet tamping the wood floor as Emma’s night
dress began to stick to her damp skin.
He watched how the thin white cloth of her nightgown
became transparent, where it stuck to her, her breasts,
her hips, her bottom, her thighs. He began hoping she’d
turn certain ways, that she’d lean over certain ways,
almost willing his little girl to do so.
The first time he’d noticed, that he could see through
her nightdress he thought he should tell her, that he
could see through her gown, but he didn’t.
Instead, night by night, he'd moved his chair to where
he could see right through her gown more than not. He
grew to anticipate this voyeurism, to plan for it.
He noticed her curves, how his little girl’s allure was
becoming harder and harder to resist. He could almost
feel her hot damp body in his hands. He was now almost
beside himself desiring her. How he’d picture her
underneath her gown, her nakedness, her smooth little
belly, her bald little mound, her perfect softness, and
his cock twitched as he imagined licking his daughter’s
smooth bald little cunny. He knew she was using her
mother's smooth pumice stone, like her mother had, to
smooth off the hair from her legs, from her feminine
places. He imagined pressing her to the cabin wall,
holding her hands over her head with one hand, kissing
her, their tongues entwined as he squeezed her ripe firm
pale breasts with his other hand, as he slid his fingers
between her legs, separated only by her damp gown as his
little baby squirmed on his fingers, pressed on his
fingers, whispering, “Deeper, Daddy, deeper Papa” her
sweet little soft cunny so creamy slick, her belly warm-
hot on the heel of his palm pressing against her pelvic
bone, her mons, her bald hot little cunt.
He loved his little girl, and yet he was also a man, and
it had been so long, too long. He had another aching
hard erection, his balls hot swollen with cum, his
hugely swollen cock leaking pre-cum into his pants. He
kept his throbbing erection tenting his overalls hidden
from Emma’s view by resting his forearm over it, rubbing
himself, moments when he’d have to fight back the urge
to stand up and just take his little girl, consume her,
make her his like he had now so many times in his
fantasies.
When he saw the gorgeous globes of her tiny bottom
through the damp nightdress, her firm breasts now sweaty
and plainly visible through the wet material of her soft
white nightgown, that her nipples were extended, that
she was flushed and exuded a radiant sexuality,
everything changed for Reverend Joshua.
Now he was openly looking his little girl up and down,
his cock harder and harder as he rubbed himself with the
underside of his forearm imagining little Emma sitting
on his knee, her legs between his, her looking down into
his lap between her thighs, pulling on her Daddy’s cock
in her tiny hands, licking her beautiful lips, wanting
to put her mouth on it, wanting to fuck her father’s
hugely swollen cock in her hot wet mouth, how he’d tell
her to use her tongue, to love Daddy’s cock, that it was
the lord’s will.
Emma looked back at him and smiled, her Daddy’s eyes
suddenly ablaze, his smile heated as she poured more of
the steaming hot water into the tub, the sound becoming
deeper, more hollow, the tub almost full, her breasts
and nipples protruding from under her transparent white
gown, swaying beckoning to her Daddy’s mouth, his big
hands, intentionally pressing them between her arms into
the most delicious shape. She knew it was wrong to want
her father, but she wanted him anyway.
The Reverend reached down, subtly, and staring hotly at
his little girl almost shivered with sexual energy as he
squeezed the head of his cock imagining his little Emma,
his tiny, little girl squeezing his cock between what
were the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. Him
fucking his huge hard cock between her soft young full
swollen hot tits, her looking up into her father’s eyes,
smiling, her mouth open, her breathing so hard, heated
into a lusting frenzy, his hot hard cock fucking her
tits, her leaning down capturing the head of his cock in
her hot little mouth.
***
The Reverend Joshua pulled the tub out for Emma as he
did each evening. A ritual of them bathing, her first
and then him after, using the same water, and he had
offered tonight to fill her bath for her as he always
did. He looked forward to her bath time, and each night
hurried them toward it.
Emma knew her handsome father had had a long day and she
didn’t mind filling her own bath; she wanted him to be
able to look at her, to let him watch her. Sometimes
she’d even heat more water for Daddy’s bath, so when he
returned, after she’d bathed and dried herself and had
gone to bed, Daddy could just come in and begin bathing.
Emma’s courtesy however wasn’t altogether selfless, any
more than her father's was; he filled her bath for her
so he could watch her in her gown in the firelight,
taking that precious memory with him out to the barn,
his little girl naked under her gown.
Emma liked laying in her bed, falling asleep, after her
father had come back in from the barn, listening to him
bathe, hearing the water falling from her father’s head
and shoulders, down his body and into the tub. She liked
it when her father would take off his shirt lowering his
overalls-straps over his muscular shoulders, after he’d
been out in the field under the hot sun, her Daddy,
sweaty, suntanned, his smell attracting her, making her
want to lean in close, to breath him in, his sweaty hot
masculinity.
She liked looking at him. She thought he was very
handsome, the most handsome man she'd known. She would
take quick furtive glances at his hairy chest, his
muscles. Sometimes she’d ask for a hug right then, and
her father the Reverend would pick her up in his strong
arms and laughing she’d wrap her legs around his waist
as she lay her head on his bare chest, feel that she was
still a little girl as she quieted with want and
breathed him in, her pussy pressing into her father, his
big hands under her bottom, her weightless in her
father’s big, strong hands, his arms like thick warm
straps surrounding her.
Emma liked the way Daddy’s sweaty hot skin smelled, her
father’s smell. She liked her hot skin on his, how it
felt.
She also liked to lay in her bed and watch through the
thin curtain that separated her bed from the main room,
thin enough that with the firelight she could see her
father’s glowing naked body standing in the tub. She
hurried him toward his bath each night too.
***
Tonight as every night when Emma was ready for her bath,
Daddy stepped out to do the last of his chores so she
could bathe in private, and then while she got ready for
bed behind the curtain that separated her room from the
main room of the cabin, he’d heat the water for his
bath.
What Emma didn’t know was one night when Daddy stepped
outside and was on his way to the barn, he’d passed one
of the windows, and the shutter wasn’t all the way
closed. Daddy saw his little girl naked and bathing, and
ever since, she didn’t know he’d have to touch himself
in the barn to find some relief from images of his
little girl, her, bathing so close by, so utterly
divinely naked. His little girl, her too large breasts
on her tiny lovely little body, her nipples thrusting
outward, her long hair trailing down her back, her eyes
closed, her lips slightly parted as the water glistened
cascading over her, “a miracle” Daddy fantasized, his
tiny little woman, his little girl, Emma.
Daddy honestly, diligently tried to cast the devil out
of himself, but to little or no avail. No matter how
much he jacked his cock, no matter how often he came,
the image of his little girl naked standing in the tub
bathing, the well developed fantasies he had would again
make his cock erect and hungry as if he hadn’t jerked
off already. His little girl, so innocent, so pure he
fantasized; he berated himself for desiring his angelic
little Emma, for having the sexual fantasies of her that
he did, the devil’s work no doubt.
He couldn’t stop himself though, as he bathed, even
after having pulled on his sex-deprived, long, thick,
hard cock out in the barn, images of his little Emma
naked that one night, images of her in bed asleep just a
few feet away, would creep back into his mind and he’d
get raging hot hard again.
His cock standing fully erect, protruding madly out from
his groin, the Reverend Joshua would finally lather his
hands with soap, and while he soaped himself standing in
the tub of hot water, he’d begin sliding his fist up and
down his magnificently swollen hard cock.
Sometimes he’d ask out loud through the curtain, “Emma,
are you asleep, child’?” and when she didn’t answer,
he’d close his eyes, wrap his hand around the thick hunk
of his flesh hard cock and begin to stroke himself with
the soap, imagining the bar her little hand, thrusting
his hips into his fist with rolling abandon, his
breathing loud and echoing in the little cabin, rubbing
himself, jacking his thick meat, cupping his cum laden
balls as he pictured his little Emma, his little girl
soaping him, imagining them standing in the tub
together, his bathing his little girl. Behind her,
cupping her wonderfully large breasts in his big hands,
her large sumptuously shaped breasts, blue-veined, pale,
so, so ripe and tender hot-soft, soaping them, rubbing
her puffy nipples in his fingers, rolling them, pinching
and pulling on them, cleaning them. Imagining her asking
him, begging him, “Daddy, clean my breasts, Papa, please
Daddy" moaning, mewling ”they’re so, dirty, Papa. I’m,
so dirty. Clean me Daddy, such naughty thoughts, Papa.
The devil Daddy, Satin, in me, Daddy, must wash him from
me Papa. So bad, Daddy. So naughty. Your... your hot,
wicked little girl, Papa.”
Reverend Joshua’s cock surged with heat and lust, he
groaned out loud, rubbing the devil out of his
daughter’s full young swollen breasts as she reached
behind her and pulled on his huge cock in her little
hand, to pull the devil out of him, too, together. He
pictured her asleep just the few feet away behind the
curtain. He came so hard, so explosively, stifling a
moan, cumming silky strands of hot cum into the bath
water, and then after several minutes, after his
erection had quieted, he’d step from the tub, nude and
dripping wet.
Naked, he’d carry the tub out into the cool night and
pour out the water into the dusty pathway, his way of
dispossessing himself of the devil’s wickedness, his
daddy-cum in his little girl’s bathwater, her damp
flowery feminine womanly scent rising in the steam
filling the night air, her just a few feet away asleep
in her bed almost more than he could stand, in her night
dress under the blankets, freshly bathed, naked, his
little girl, his own daughter, his Emma.
He imagined her laying on her stomach in her bed
touching herself, squeezing her big breasts in her tiny,
little hands which he didn’t know yet his little girl
already did, licking her ow nipples thinking of his hot
wet mouth, and was even now, and fantasizing she did
turned him on all the more.
He imagined pulling open the curtain, and seeing her
there, her thin white nightdress still sweaty-damp from
her bath, her flowery smell, her nightdress hiked up
around those tender little hips roiling around on her
fingers, her round little bottom spread open, her
swollen ripe little cunt open and shiny wet, her arms
under her, her fingers pumping inside her bald smooth
bare naked little cunny, her little round bottom humping
into the night air.
The Reverend imagined himself standing there, naked,
dripping wet, hot from the bath, his cock he'd just
stroked in his soapy hand, his cock standing erect, him
so big compared to his tiny, little girl laying on her
stomach, her fucking herself with her fingers not
knowing he was standing above her, that Daddy had
stepped from his bath hearing his little girl’s hums and
moans, Daddy and his magnificent erection watching her.
Her father imagined in one motion being on top of her,
his knees straddling his young daughter's slightly
parted thighs, her little bottom pushed up, her little
cunt swollen and gaping open, trapping her underneath
him, so incredibly aroused his massively hard cock
ruthlessly pushing her little fingers aside, into his
little Emma’s dripping wet, ready, bald little cunt, his
little girl meeting his thrusts, her fingers turning
from her little pussy to massaging and tickling his
balls, her crying out, “Ohhhh Papa, yes, fuck me, Daddy,
fuck your little girl, your good girl, Papa.”
No matter how much responsibility he felt toward little
Emma, his darling sweet little Emma, Reverend Joshua
didn’t know if he’d be able to stop himself much longer.
***
Sitting in the darkness he could see more than his
little girl’s silhouette. The Reverend could see his
daughter’s round firm breasts jutting out, her nipples a
darker shade and puffy, swaying against the thin
material of the hand-me-down white cotton gown laced all
the way up to her long shiny perspiring neck.
The Reverend had never witnessed a more ravishing
spectacle of feminine desire. The more the steam rose
and made his little girl sweaty damp, the more her night
dress clung to her, the more deliciously tempting she
became.
His little girl looked so pure, angelic even, almost
glowing with an internal radiance in the firelight, and
at the same time, she had an allure, a sexual energy, of
a woman far more experienced in the practice of love.
He tried not to look, but he couldn’t resist. He felt
that feeling again, the devil in him taking over, that
masculine energy that wanted needed could have, his
little girl.
He could see her shadowed curves and the gap between her
young thighs as the light shined between her legs from
behind her; he’d bury himself in her hot little pussy,
he’d lick his little girl, she’d squeal and moan and
writhe under his tongue, her first tongue.
He’d suck her nipples into his hot mouth. The first time
her breasts had been licked, kissed, loved. He’d caress
her everywhere, his hands on her back, her shoulders,
the nape of her neck, her bottom, their thighs hot
pressing into one another.
The shadows her breasts made against the glowing
nightdress made him hunger for them; he could see his
little girl was completely smooth between her legs, and
he was reminded of he and his sister as kids playing
with each other at night after everyone else had long
been asleep.
The sight of his sisters’ bald little pussy still with
him, how they’d swim together, rubbing under the water
where no one could see, and how his lovely little cousin
had fucked him, twice, when their parents naively had
them sleep in the same bed. How he had been hesitant,
his cock hard, naked in bed with his cousin who he’d
already fucked at the last reunion picnic weekend, not
sure she’d want to again, and how she’d whispered in the
dark under the covers, “I want you to, I want to do it
again” her warm soft skin burning into his, her hot
little cunny already damp as she asked him to suck her
breasts again, as she began panting and her little pussy
became creamy satiny soft. As she gripped his young hard
cock in her little hand, breathing harder and harder,
pulling on him. “I want to suck it” she’d said. “I want
it in me, again, please, Joshua. I’ve dreamt about the
last time. I touch myself every night thinking about it.
I love you, Joshua. Please, let me. I want to, I wa
nt that big thing back inside me Joshua. It felt so
good inside me.”
He saw her once years later at a family occasion and
there was no mention of those nights as teens in bed
together. Joshua didn’t realize, the little cousin still
thought about those nights, touched herself at night
when her husband was asleep, thought about him when it
was her husband inside her. Little did he know that so
did his sister. They both watched him that day, at a
distance, the one not knowing about the other, him a
Reverend now, to their regret, and to his he reluctantly
admitted to himself.
Emma wasn’t much older than they had been, but Joshua in
all his years had never seen breasts like his little
Emma’s on a young woman her age.
Her breasts were so ripe, so full and round for her tiny
petite thin little frame, so big on his little girl, and
he knew he shouldn’t but he wondered if she touched
them, if she pulled on her nipples at night alone in her
bed, if she tried to suck on them. The thought made him
hard.
He imagined his wife’s breasts, if they were as large as
Emma’s at her age; she’d told them they were, that she’d
sucked them alone at night in her bed when she was
young. He wondered if his mother’s were that big at
Emma’s age.
He’d jerked off so many times thinking of his little
girl’s breasts, her nipples, how in his fantasies he’d
show his little girl the pleasures of the flesh, how
he’d suck her nipples into his warm wet mouth and draw
little circles over cunny until she squirmed under his
touch, panted, ground her soaking wet, creamy little
cunny on her father’s fingers, "Don't stop Daddy, don't
ever stop" she'd whisper in his fantasy. How she’d ask
him to let her suck his cock.
Joshua stopped suddenly, catching himself, being carried
away by the devil.
***
His wife had been gone now for years now, died of the
flu that swept through the rural farmlands in the 70’s,
and thinking of her, the way she used to suck his cock
so lovingly, worshipping his huge erection, Reverend
Joshua’s cock got steely hard watching his little Emma
fill the tub.
He anticipated going outside as he did most evenings to
the barn, and tonight he’d jerk off again to images of
his little girl. This evening he prolonged getting up to
go out before she bathed savoring the images of her
silhouette through her night dress, images he wanted to
remember. Emma sensed her father taking her in, and
shifted her weight such that she felt the slipperiness
between her young little thighs, lusting after images of
her father’s cock from when he was bathing.
His little girl, just over five feet tall, as tall now
as her Grandma Rose, her beautiful eyes looking up at
him, her head bent back, her gown so loose around her,
her breasts pushing out the material of the virginal
white gown, her thin little frame seemed even tinier.
Images of her standing before him, speaking in her soft
little voice, almost whispering, "Do you want to see me,
Papa? I want you to, Daddy, to see me naked. I want you
to to touch me, Papa. I want you, to, suck on my breasts
Daddy."
The more her nightdress clung to her damp skin, the more
it revealed her petite little body, that she had nothing
on underneath, the harder her father became imagining
balancing his little girl on his burning hot prick, his
big hands under her gown, his big hands wrapped around
her tiny waist, raising and lowering her on her Papa’s
incestuous erection, his own little lover, his own
little girl, Emma.
Each time Emma poured water from the kettle into the
tub, her father watched his little girl bending over,
pictured himself raising her gown up over her little
hips, “Put it in me again, Papa” the underside of his
big daddy-cock against her back, against the small
globes of her bottom, “Ohhh, Papa.” His big cock sliding
in and out of her tiny, little pussy, how she’d have to
raise one leg, press her bottom out to him to
accommodate him inside her. “Mmmm my lil baby, so soft,
so tight wrapped around Papa’s big cock” he’d growl. How
he’d wrap his fingers around her tender little hips, and
fuck his little Emma, his little girl, his own daughter,
his incestuous little lover, how she’d want him to
again, and again.
He imagined how she’d stop wearing undergarments, was so
he could have her whenever he wanted, whenever she
wanted, and she did want him, often. How she’d just
raise her skirts and look at him, signaling she wanted
his cock in her little cunny again, just the two of them
alone out here on the farm. Father and daughter,
fucking, planting his seed in his little girl’s belly.
Mating with his own daughter, her bearing him children.
Joshua felt his cock surge under his overalls. Images of
filling his little girl with his daddy-cum. His balls
churned with want, pre-cum leaking out and he imagined
little Emma in her clinging gown stroking his thick hard
cock in her tiny, little hands. He imagined her breasts
pressed together through her gown, her tiny hands moving
up and down making her breasts quiver and shake, her
loose fingers wrapped around her own father’s hugely
hard cock, her looking at it, and up into his eyes back
and forth, her mouth open, the awe of sexual enticement,
the allure of making a man’s cock hard, how hard and
throbbing in her little hands she made him, made her
wet, her breathing loud and irregular, in a spell.
He imagined Emma on her knees in front of him in his
chair, her tiny hands stroking him up and down faster
and then slower, savoring her father’s cock, both her
little hands wrapped around his thick throbbing meat.
“Do you like that, Papa?” she’d tease. “My little hands
on your big cock, Daddy? Your little girl jacking your
huge daddy-cock? Nnn, Daddy, your big cock is dribbling
cum, Papa. Let me taste it, Daddy. Mmmnnn, Daddy, love
how you taste.” So heavy, so fat, the head so bloated
and pale and purplish-red and dripping with pre-cum all
over her tiny, little hands. “Cum in my little mouth for
me, Papa” she whisper. Her studying the pulsing veins,
her biting her lower lip, her just staring at it. Him
leaning down to his little girl's lips, and kissing her,
their tongues in each other's mouths, his heated breath
pouring over his little girl “Nnnn, Daddyyy” as she
pulled on her Daddy’s cock in her soft tiny hands in the
dark of the firelight, as he whispered hotly, “Good
girl, pull on Daddy, Em, you make Daddy feel so good,
lil baby.”
Reverend Joshua knew how much women loved to handle a
man’s cock, to make him hard. How they loved how big he
was, how it made them desire him. How being endowed ran
in his family. How much they loved to make him cum. He
knew his cock would have the same effect on his little
Emma. The same effect she had on him.
Rising forward to stand, he looked up at Emma announcing
unexpectedly "I better go out and check on the mare,
Emma," his hand flat over the now huge bulge in his
overalls, the head of his cock poking through the
material at his waist rubbing his wrist as he walked,
trying to hide his heated arousal from his virginal
little girl appearing to him like a sexual goddess in
her clinging white gown. His cock didn’t want to leave.
Emma was startled, she was so completely in the moment,
her father’s hot stare, her acting for him, bending and
leaning, that fluttering feeling she’d come to love so
much.
Just before her Daddy stood, she saw him look at her the
way the bull looked at the cow that morning as it
approached the heifer. Her little cunny felt warm and
damp and then slippery wet. She felt an instant sense of
alarm, then surrender, prepared, and now, a frustrated
momentary sense of disappointment as her father got up
and announced he was going out to the barn. She recalled
watching the bull mount the girl cow, how that huge
thing slid so easily inside her quivering sex, and the
way she took it, and Emma blushed hotly as she looked
into her Daddy’s eyes. Just as he turned and went out
the front door of the timber thick cabin, so isolated
and protective, another flash went through her mind, her
own father sliding inside her swollen wet little pussy.
Him taking her just like the bull took the young heifer
so miserably in heat. Her moaning out, “Don’t go, Daddy,
Don’t leave me like this. Nnngggg, Daddyyyy, so hot,
Papa” just like the young heifer. “Fuck me, Papaaaa,
ngggg, yessss!” she’d hiss, her pussy spreading,
stretching open, the gash of her pink sex dripping hot
wet. Her father’s aching hard incestuous meat deep in
her fertile young belly.
The image shone through her imagination, her father
getting her pregnant, his child in her belly, and Emma
sucked in her breath, her pussy quivering hot. Watching
him as if outside herself, her simmering breasts in his
big hands as she pleaded with him, “Suck on them, Daddy,
please, mmm, Papaaaa, nnnnnnnuh, yess, slide it in me,
Papa. Feel me, Papa. Cum in me, Daddy, give me your
baby, Papa. Suck the milk from my breasts, Daddy. Ohhhh,
Papa, yesss.”
Emma’s nipples ached. Just as quickly, startled that he
left, and why, she talked herself out of her fantasy,
telling herself Daddy wouldn’t want me like that. She
tried to convince herself, he’s a man of god, and I’m
his little girl. She felt bad, wicked. At the same time
little Emma had seen the big lump in Daddy’s overalls,
how high up in his overalls the tip was, high up and
behind his wrist, and she knew what it was.
Did I give Daddy that? Maybe the devil is in Daddy, too,
she worried. Maybe I need to help him. Maybe he doesn’t
realize. She felt a little scared but also very excited,
and again tried to regain her senses. Impressions of her
father cock buried deep inside her, his baby in her, his
cum pouring from between her young legs, from her gaping
pink wet slit. She almost moaned out in heat into the
empty cabin, flushed and hot with lusting frustration.
Emma’s bald little pussy naked under her nightdress
tingled and pulsed and itched deep inside. She must be
imagining it, her father’s huge cock jutting up under
his overalls, her father’s cock, rock hard, so big,
because of her. The steam and the heat of the fire is
making me imagine things, she thought to herself. Her
little body and her intuition though, said the exact
opposite.
She wanted the exact opposite. She couldn’t not remember
and not see that image of her father bathe from behind
the curtain as she lay in bed that night. That huge
thick thing poking up under his overalls, the big
rounded head under his wrist, that thing that was
sticking straight out from his body in the firelight,
the shadow on the curtain, how she reached out and
caressed the shadow on the curtain. She wanted it. She
wanted to wrap her fingers around it. She wanted to kiss
it, and propping herself up in the bed, she had leaned
forward and kissed the shadow of her father’s cock on
the curtain.
She had almost fallen asleep as she did every night as
her Daddy prepared to take his bath, and when she heard
him she opened her eyes but she was too sleepy to
respond when he called her name, “Emma, are you awake,
lil baby?” and because she could see him through the
curtain, him standing in the tub, and because she could
see what was sticking out between his legs.
It was huge, she thought, just like the bull’s, big
around, thick, long, ruggedly rigid hard, beautiful.
“Ohhh Papa, it’s so, so big, Papa” she gushed under her
breath at her father’s shadow on the curtain, reaching
her little fingers to it. It seemed as big for her
Daddy’s body, as her breasts were for hers, as the
bull’s was going into the cow, and Emma again felt the
wash of the familiar slippery wetness that gushed
between her soft little thighs.
She watched her father through the curtain pull on that
huge thing between his legs, “Nnnn, Papa, let me, wash
you” she whispered, picturing her little hands sliding
soapy up and down his raging hard cock, his head back,
his mouth open, his breathing louder and louder.
She slid her hands down her sides and hiked up her
nightdress, “Let me use the soap Papa” to slide her
fingers into her creamy wet little cunny. She thought
she heard him say her name, “Ohhh, lil baby, Em, yesss,
touch Daddy” and it excited her so much she almost came.
She thought he must be trying to get the devil out of
himself. That she should too.
Emma spread her girlish thin legs, raised her knees up
to her elbows, and imagined her Daddy was the big bull,
and she was the heifer, imagined her father on top of
her guiding that huge thing between his legs into her
tiny bald little cunny, as he glided inside her, as he
fucked her, and she spread her legs even more, reached
up and pinched both her nipples imagining they were her
Daddy’s big fingers touching her as his big prick slid
inside her.
She imagined Daddy’s quiet-gravelly voice, “You like
Daddy’s prick, don’t you Em” and her mesmerized reply,
“Yessss, Daddy, in me Daddy, I love it, in me, Papa” and
her father’s reply, “and Daddy love’s my little Emma,
Daddy loves being inside my little girl, sliding Daddy’s
hard cock into my little Emma, my little girl, my
daughter, hard for my little Emma, you make Daddy so
hard, lil baby” as she imagined him kissing her, the
taste of her little pussy on his lips.
***
Standing at the edge of the tub Emma undid the lace
string of her gown and remembered how she got slippery
between her legs watching the bull move his hips, almost
instantly. How she got so wet watching her father in the
bath a few nights before, how she almost fainted when
she saw him begin to put soap on it, as he began to pull
on it. “Nnnnn, papaaa” she wanted to wash her Daddy, for
him, she wanted to soap him, rub him, slide her hands on
him, stroke him, jack his huge cock for him, “let me,
help, Papa.” Her little hands tingled, felt hot and damp
as she licked her lips, tasted herself again.
She scolded herself, knowing it was the devil getting
back inside her. She just had to find a way to get the
devil out, or to surrender to him, and as she untied the
last ribbon of her undershirt, looked at the huge thing
she’d pulled from under her mattress, the huge wooden
phallus that had been her Grandma Rose’s, her work dress
rumpled on the floor at her feet, her body glowing hot,
alive, her little cunny slippery wet with anticipation,
every nerve in her body was on fire as she kissed the
wooden cock.
A feeling of release and freedom and sexual excitement
filled her every pore as she murmured into it, hot and
hard on her lips, “Need you in me, Daddy, in my mouth,
in my little pussy, to fuck me Papa, fuck me with that
huge thing, fuck me Daddy. Ohhh god, Daddy, want to
touch it, Papa, let me, touch it. I want to kiss it
Papa, want to feel it in my little hands” and thinking
of how she put the wooden phallus in her mouth, she
sucked in her breath at the image of it being her
father’s cock.
“Let me, suck you, Papa” she breathed out. “Please,
Papa. Want you, in my mouth, Papa” she said aloud into
the empty cabin, sliding her curling fingers into her
creamy wet dripping hot pink little slit, and then the
head of the huge wooden phallus, pushing it inside her,
gasping out of breath, the big wooden head spreading her
open.
Next : Chapter III: Reverend Joshua Walks in on Emma
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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