by Michael Everest
When she was younger she liked to climb the large and twisted oaks that grew not too far from her home.

Dressed in the loose dresses her mother made her wear on Sundays she would scale the branches slowly, carefully, knowing full well the young boys standing below would gaze up, watching silent and open mouthed for a the moment the dress would softly open up and give them a gaze of her white underwear and the crevices it molded into.

By the time she had reached the age of fourteen she had grown much bolder. And on occasion, when the days of summer were particularly sweltering, she would take off here panties and sit in the swings of the park.

Slowly as she rocked, gaining speed and height, she would
open her legs just slightly so as on the forward swing the wind lifting the edges of her light skirts, those standing in front of her would have seen the forming dark patch of hair which her fair skinned young thighs acted as a pathway to.

It was at this time she first gained her glimpses into sex. Though she enjoyed showing herself in these ways, she had never shown more than this.

And sometimes while wrestling with the young boys of her neighborhood she would let them touch these parts of her which were the beginnings of womanhood, but it was always done in these teasing ways, which they did not know was her game.

One afternoon, towards the end of a long summer that was particularly hot and thick with humidity, she came home and hearing strange guttural sounds coming from here parents room she walked slowly, her heart beating loud and quick.

She pressed her ear to the door and heard her mother
moaning deeply, sensually, a rich and primal sound. The door not being locked cracked open just enough so that she could see her mother and father lying on the bed naked and bodies glistening with sweat.

She saw her mother’s large white breasts rippling with the energy of her father’s movements, and she raised a hand to feel her own. Their firmness and the way her young nipples slowly hardened.

She began to feel her sex awaken, growing hot and she rested her hand on it as well. And when her father stood up and his large erect penis slid out from her mother she gasped and held her breath for a moment. It was thick and monstrous looking. Dark and powerful.

She couldn't take her eyes off it and watched as he slid it back into her mother.

Heard the cries of pleasure as he did this. And she moaned with them. Watching the muscles of their adult bodies strain and vibrate made her grow wet, and she was both afraid and excited by this.

Standing in the doorway still, with a hand on her young taut breasts and another between her legs she caressed and rubbed unconsciously to their movements and sounds. To the kisses her father planted on her mother breasts, the playful bites. To the slapping sound of skin against skin, this excited her most, this gave the whole picture life and lust.

And when her parent’s moans grew louder and more excited until they reached that finality, she was surprised to find her own moans thrown into the chorus. And the surge of her own body as it convulsed forth its first orgasm.

Not long after she took her first lover, and many after him, but it was always the recalling of that day which drew out the most passionate trysts, the most lustful fucking.

Sometimes alone she closed her eyes. And bringing up this image she would masturbate, she imagined it was her under her father, in her mothers place, being fucked by the large heavy penis of her fathers, of him cumming inside her and it was then she had the most violent orgasms.

Cumming quick and multiple times so that she was always left breathless and weak. And she would fall asleep whispering his name until she drifted off into dream.

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