Dishes

Natalie was as wet between the thighs as the sponge she slid across the dish. She had long associated washing dishes with sex and sex was something she enjoyed more than making love. Before the first time with her father, the men she happened to find herself undressed with had needed time, romance, and a bed. Those were all things she never needed. For her, she was always ready to race though a series fast orgasms and her father was that kind of man. She had just finished talking to him on the phone.

The roar of the motorcycle, an Indian he loved to tell her, made her heart race. The noise faded and the back screen door of her old farmhouse slammed. As heavy boots clumped across the porch with the peeling paint and then across the uneven vinyl flooring of the room, she tossed her light blue panties on the counter atop the cold waffle iron.

She could tell he was behind her. “Hey Daddy,” she called without turning around as her hands continued to clean dish after dish. Dressed only in an unbuttoned man’s white dress shirt and black stiletto high heels, she leaned forward and thrust her hips back at him. “Have you come to see your little girl?”

His large warm hands covered her breasts and rolled them around as he inserted himself into the warm soft wet pink opening from behind. “Oh Daddy, what are you doing to your baby girl? No Daddy, don’t do that.” He knew she was teasing and they both enjoyed the game.

She leaned across the dirty stoneware dishes piled in the sink and held tightly onto the faucets. Her back sharply arched, her firm hips exposed, he repeatedly slammed his thighs against her buttocks. Other than occasional vulgar expressions about body parts, he was mostly silent. She groaned and moaned loudly. Had neighbors been within five miles, they would have heard. He loved to hear her. She loved all the nasty words.

He groaned and slammed himself into her one last time before stopping.

She turned; her shirt and chest now soaked with dishwater. Suds covered the left breast. She pulled him close and drove her tongue deep into his mouth.

He lifted her and let her slide slowly along his cock until she consumed it all. “Ah-h, Daddy-y,” she cooed around his tongue letting her warm breath blow down into his throat.

His hands held her hips tightly and she wrapped her long shapely legs around his waist. One shoe fell with a soft clump onto the floor. “You’re the best Daddy,” she yelled as he worked her willowy body up and down.

—

Behind the house, barefoot and now without even the shirt on, she waved to him as he rode the Indian along the rutted drive around the slight bend by the oak. She could hear the reverberations of the exhaust off the side of the farmhouse slightly over the beat of her heart. Soon, only silence could be heard as she let the screen door slam behind her.

Their mingled fluids drained along the top of her thigh as she walked casually to the small bathroom off the kitchen. She stood in front of the white pedestal sink and modeled for herself. “Da-amn Daddy, how can-n you resist?” she told herself aloud in a long soft southern drawl. Her hands cupped her breasts as his hands had and then massaged them both. “You can’t,” she groaned. “I can’t,” she added, this time softer and almost only to herself.

Steam from the showerhead filled the room above the shower. The small aluminum framed frosted glass shower door clicked once as she opened it and again as she closed it. She rubbed the bar of Ivory Soap across her thirty year-old skin, her body still slim, still most feminine. “Oh Daddy, you are-e the best.” She enjoyed the soft feel of the suds, so different from his coarse thick hands. The bar, and then her hand against slipped between her legs. “Daddy….” She watched as their juices mixed with the water and spiraled down the drain. “Till next time,” she said with a wave.

—

The letter lay beside Natalie on the seat of old multi-colored Ford stepside pickup as she drove along Highway 12 towards Bald Peak. The forest gradually thinned and the landscape slowly changed. There were patches of snow even though it was late March.

A wayward glance at the inaccurate gas gauge with the needle well below empty snapped her out of a near trance. “Shit!” she scolded herself aloud for not stopping before now. In the middle of nowhere and with little gas, she became quite concerned.

Miles ahead around one of many curves near the crest, a dilapidated grocery store with one pump appeared. She pulled to the side of the road, and fastened her jeans and buttoned her sweater.

“Hello missy,” the older man said as he watched her shove the nozzle into the filler hole. “Ya need some help? Good thing I’m here; ain’t nothin’ for fifty more miles.”

It was obvious he was undressing her in his mind. She took a deep breath and her chest swelled making her bare breasts press even more firmly against the sweater and out where the top several buttons were not fastened. Part of a nipple struggled to be exposed.

“My, my,” he drawled. “Don’t see such nice things around here much.”

She glanced in his direction and watched him crudely rub his crotch. “Off to see my uncle,” she tersely said as she flipped her hair with the free hand before touching the almost exposed nipple and then adjusting her blouse. She continued to watch his hand over his crotch as she held the nozzle tight against the hole in the truck.

The nozzle clicked off and she handed him two twenties. “What’cha got there?” She paused, her tongue resting on her lip. A finger fiddled with the button on her jeans. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. No touching.” She watched him rub his crotch and she rubbed hers.

There were only two cars beside the store and they appeared to have not moved in years. “No one inside,” he groaned. “Ain’t had such a good offer. My wife died years ago.” He became silent as he watched her.

“How about out here?” she asked as a lone big rig roared past on the road. “I love the risk of being caught.” She began unzipping her jeans and unbuttoning the sweater, not removing them, but revealing the lack of undergarments. “I just fastened them before stopping,” she groaned as though she were tired of dressing and undressing so often.

His prick popped from the open zipper in his khaki workpants. He stroked it. He watched her fingers disappear inside her. He grunted and began spurt and dribble. She took several deep breaths as she quickly finished and then watched him shake his prick.

“Any time you need a fill up.” He watched her waddle to the other side of the truck with her jeans still around her upper legs. “Nice ass missy.”

—

She pulled back onto the road and Natalie watched in the mirror as he dragged a paper towel across the now flaccid member and then fasten his pants. “Made his day,” she whispered aloud. “Mine too I guess.” Her clothes sill unfastened and disheveled, she reached over and fingered the letter. “Mark….” she said in a husky voice.

Highway 12 headed south past the summit of Bald Peak and an hour later, the forest reappeared. “Stinson” the sign read above the lone large rusted mailbox. She turned off the pavement and the dust of the gravel road began to cloud everything behind the pickup. Rocks pounded the underside of the fenders and she gripped the wheel slightly tighter. “Don’t remember it being so….” Suddenly the faded beige doublewide trailer and the large white steel shop building appeared.

As she stopped next to the Mustang in the wide dirt parking area, the sound of a John Deere tractor filled the cab of her pickup. “Ah-h,” she moaned aloud as she fastened her clothes.

Natalie stood at the edge of the field, her hands shoved deeply in both pockets. The tractor turned at the end of one row and began making the next furrow towards her. Mark waved as he saw her, though it would be a while until he reached the end of the row. Eventually the tractor became silent.

“Hey niece. Had a hard time waiting ’till I could stop.”

“Hey uncle. I see what you mean.” She dragged her hand over the bulge in his dusty jeans and then cupped her fingers around it. I was hoping it would be like this.” Without further discussion, she began to undress.

She stood naked and barefoot. “Before I do anything, I gotta piss.”

“Like old times,” he replied, as he stood undressed beside her, a foot touching hers as they spread their legs wide. The yellow stream fell in front of them and for each, stopped about the same time.

She shook her crotched. “Ah-h,” she said with a throaty groan. She wiped her fingers though the folds of piss covered flesh and then flicked them dry.

“Done like a guy … nice,” he said.

“You and Dad taught me well.” She laughed and walked a few steps before lying down in a small patch of short and green lawn grass. “Should I get my stilettos out?”

His head rocked side to side, “Nope. You are-e dressed just perfect little one.” The erection, now recovered from the piss, bobbed slightly as he moved towards her.

She lay with her knees bent and spread wide. “Oh uncle, what are you going to do?” she cooed aloud. “Don’t hurt me with that.”

He laughed. “Perhaps you’d like to sit over my lips,” he said as he stood between her knees, staring at her. “Fucking fine cunt you’ve got.”

“Baby, you know what I like,” she said in a soft sultry voice as she arranged herself so she hovered slightly above his face facing his feet. “I’m watching, making sure it stays up,” she told him and then giggled.

His tongue dragged through the parting skin from back to front and across the swollen clit.

“Ah-h,” she wailed and shivered. “Again,” she begged as she dropped along his chest and licked his waiting cock. It wiggled and bounced against her tongue as she lightly dragged her tongue towards the head. “Haven’t seen anything so nice … for a while,” she murmured as she studied the color of the head. “Ah-h,” she moaned as his tongue again reached her clit. Back and forth, they each rubbed their tongues over the needed places and making the sounds that let the other know how good it felt.