(Mf, exhib, inc)
by Art Martin
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyrighted 2010 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted.
Standard Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, sex between minors and adults, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein, especially when it comes to unsafe sexual practices or sex between adults and minors.
Michael Smith sat in his hotel room, rubbing his temples.� He had just gotten �home� from a six-month stint in an African hell-hole and the jet lag was killing him.� Even so, he wanted to see his kid, so he made a call into his ex-wife. He�d been too tired when he made the call and what the bitch told him didn�t make much sense.� �Kara is gone?� Over at a friend�s?�
�No, Kara is gone,� his ex curtly replied without elaboration.
�Gone where?�
�I don�t know, Mike.� She�s gone.�
�I�ll call her tomorrow, when she�s home.� What time��
�She�s gone, Mike.�
�Gone where?�
�I don�t know.� I haven�t seen her in four months.�
�What are you talking about?�
�Kara.� Kara left home.� I�ve gotten three calls from her, so I think she�s okay.�
�Wha� What do you mean?�
�Are you dense?� She ran away, Mike.� She ran away!� I don�t know where she is.� Got that?� I don�t know where she is!��� The line went dead.
Mike again dialed the number that was once his number.� The phone rang five times before it was picked up.� A man answered.
�Who is this?� demanded Mike.
�You called me, pal, so who the fuck are you?�
�This is Mike Smith.� May I speak��
�Fuck off, buddy!� She doesn�t want to talk to you� not now or in the future.� Understand?�
�No, I don�t �understand!�� Let me speak to Jean.�
�Jean doesn�t want to talk to you, pal.�
�Who are you?�
�I�m the guy fucking this whore these days.� I was fucking her when you called the first time, and I�m fucking her now, so if you don�t mind, asshole...�� The line went dead again.
Mike hung up the phone and lay back onto the king-sized motel bed.� Staring up at the ceiling, he tried to make sense of what he had just been told.� �Kara, ran away?� Why?�� He really didn�t need to ask why, he knew why.� Kara�s mother was a bitch.� But still, she was Kara�s mother and things couldn�t have gotten all that bad.� Or could they?� �Holy, shit!� he cried out to the empty room.
When Kara was about six, he was served the divorce papers.� He really wasn�t surprised.� Giving Jean the clap right after Kara was born was a big mistake, a mistake that was never forgiven.� Thereafter, Jean openly treated him with contempt, a contempt that grew with every passing month.� It finally got to the point where it was simply better to stay away than to be home.�
When the papers were served, he was actually relieved, relieved that the sham marriage was finally at an end.� The divorce cost him everything, not that he had much at the time.� The upside was that in return he had totally regained his freedom; the freedom to carouse into the wee hours; the freedom to be a stranger in strange places; the freedom to be a loner, taking his comfort in fishing, booze and whores.� The freedom to do as he damned well pleased and not feel guilty about it.��
The problem was Kara. He loved his little girl, but at every turn it seemed, Jean, his ex-wife and Kara�s mother, was undercutting his authority, deliberately poisoning the waters.� Telling Kara lies about how he had abused her� hell, he never laid a hand on Jean, the lying bitch!� Telling Kara lies about why he wasn�t at home.� Fact was then and now, his job took him away from home, but Jean characterized it as running around with his cronies.�
Try as he might, the older Kara got, the more contentious their relationship became.� The last time he saw her, she told him flat out that she despised him and never wanted to see him again.� That cut him to the bone, but he never blamed her for it.� She had just turned twelve and was understandably angry about the whole situation.
That was over a year ago, but that was then and this was now.� He was home, and he wanted to see Kara; to see how she was doing, and to see how she much she�d grown since he last saw her.� Perhaps he could tell his side of the story and perhaps salvage his relationship with her.� But what was there to tell?� That the marriage was a mistake from the very beginning?� That she was a mistake, the product of teen irresponsibility?�
�Ran away?� Why?� Where did she go?� What is she doing?� She�s only, what� thirteen?� These questions haunted him and demanded an answer.�
�How could she survive?�� No sooner had he asked himself the question than the answer came to him.� �She�s selling herself.� She�s out selling her cunt to men, to men like me.�� His conclusion bothered him, but what could he do?� Certainly Jean had reported Kara as missing and had done everything she could to find her.� Or did she?�
Over the next few days, he tried unsuccessfully to talk to his ex-wife, but to no avail.� Finally he realized that there wasn�t a damn thing he could do, but hope for the best.� Hope that his daughter was somehow okay.� He realized that she was probably being pimped out, being fucked for cash and hoped that she was not being abused in any other way.�
Drawing a mental picture of Kara the last time he saw her over a year ago, he couldn�t help but imagine what she must look like naked, on her knees, sucking some man�s cock or being impaled on his sex spike for few bucks.� He thought of her just as he last saw her, with long dark brunette hair, pale blue eyes and except for the beginning swell of her breasts, a boyish figure.� Had she grown taller?� Had she filled out?� He couldn�t know.� God forbid, was she now a junkie?
From experience, he knew the locations where the street whores plied their trade. For the next few days, he spent his time cruising and talking to prostitutes, asking if anyone had seen or knew where his little girl might be.� It was a fruitless effort.� As unsatisfying as that outcome was, he also took some comfort that maybe he was wrong about Kara�s fate.�
He tried his ex-wife again, this time by stopping by the house and directly confronting her.� He had gone by several times and figured out just when Jean was home and her boyfriend du joir was not.� As luck would have it, he saw Jean drive away from the house.� He followed her to the supermarket.� It was the perfect situation; he could talk to Jean in a public place and not be accused of stalking her or physically abusing her.
�Jean!� Jean, wait up!� he called to her as she walked down the produce aisle.� She turned and stared at the unfamiliar face that had called to her.�
�Mike?� Is that you?� What�s with the beard?�
�Too much of a pain to shave out in the boonies,� he replied while rubbing the thick wool covering his face.� That�s when he noticed the bruises.� The makeup almost masked them, but her darkened right eye, busted lip and the ugly bruise on her left arm had the tell tale signs of abuse.�
�What do you want, Mike?� she asked icily.
He was about to ask her about the bruises, but decided it wasn�t any of his business.� He stuck to his real purpose.� �Kara.� I want to know about Kara.�
�Why do you care?�
�I do care about her, Jean.� Damn it!� You know that.� Now what happened?�
�She�s gone,� Jean replied without much outward concern.
�Where?�
�I told you, I don�t know.� Last time I spoke to her she called and said she was in Arizona and was heading to California.� I haven�t heard from her since.� That was two months ago�� Now, if you will excuse me.�� Jean then turned and walked away.
�Jean!�
�Stay away from me, Mike!� This is all your fault!�
�How could it be my fault?�
�If you had been a father to her, a father who cared, this wouldn�t have happened.�
�I was out of the country!� You know what I do for a living.�
�That�s right, you weren�t here, were you?�
�Why did she leave?�
�We had a fight and she left.� That�s all there is to it.� Maybe if you were around, maybe she would have come to you.� But you weren�t!� You were off doing whatever you do, and now she�s gone!�
�You can�t blame me for this!�
�I do blame you.� I blame you for everything� for getting me pregnant and for ruining my life!�
�Takes two to screw,� he angrily replied.
�You got me drunk.�
�I did not!�
�You gave me VD from one of your whores!�
�That was a mistake.�
�Everything about you is a mistake,� she snarled.� �Now get out my sight, damn you!�
Knowing that things would likely quickly spin out of control and get ugly, Mike backed off and walked away.� It was of no use to try and talk to Jean, she didn�t know anything or if she did, she wasn�t telling him anything.� It was a waste of time.
Mike continued his search for Kara, but to no avail.� He talked to the police.� At least Jean had reported her missing, but the police didn�t have a single tangible lead.� Remembering the bruises he saw on Jean, he related what he�d seen and asked if they had looked into possible foul play.� Yes, they considered it, but again had no leads.� As best they could tell, she had indeed run off to California or to somewhere else.�
The cold trail grew ever colder and Mike gradually resigned himself that he would never see his daughter again. By and by his other needs began fill his days and nights, fishing, boozing and carousing with whores.�
Several years after he first learned of Kara running away from home, a buddy of his told him about this joint just across the state line.� In as much as it was out of the way, out of sight and the local sheriff got everything he needed, it was a wide open whore house/titty bar where anything went.� It was a whore house with private rooms, semi private and private booths, booths where for a few bucks, a naked young thing would perform a lap dance, a lap dance on your cock until you came.� Sounded interesting, so Mike accompanied Larry out in the boonies to the �Cock of the Walk.�
Within minutes, they each had a young thing sitting beside them, half naked and rubbing the crotch of their trousers.� That was all good fun and the reason that they were there, but a girl in another booth, directly across from his booth had caught Mike�s attention. Try as he might, he just couldn�t get into the whore that had chosen him.� He wanted the little minx across from him that was with the fat slob.� His buddy took his whore, and led her off to a more private area, leaving Mike and his �date�.
�Wanna go into one of the very private booths, honey? I�ll give you whatever you want.�
�Look, no offense, honey, but you�re not what I�m looking for tonight.�
�Well, screw you, mister!� she said haughtily.� �You still owe me twenty bucks for the dance.��
Mike opened his wallet and peeled off a sawbuck.� �Here, now get lost.�� She snatched the bill from his hand and scooted out of the booth with her dress in her other hand.
Sipping on his beer, Mike studied the lithe girl in the next booth.� Clad only in a red G-string, she was gyrating in the fat man�s lap.� With his shirt open, she was rubbing her tits into his flabby tits while his meaty hands ran across her bare buttocks. When the dance ended, he had her leaning back while sucking on her tits.�
Mike saw the man whisper something into her ear.� She said something back and the man nodded.� Then she slipped off his lap and scooted out of the booth with the man closely behind her.
Mike only caught a quick glimpse of her face.� She was pretty, that was for sure, and despite the makeup, she also looked very young.� His attention wasn�t so much on her face as on her small breasts.� He liked girls with small breasts, as it fed into one of his favorite fantasies, a fantasy he had sometimes lived out in various corners of the world.
With his eyes, he followed the odd couple, the near naked petite little girl and the obese man.� He snickered to himself that he�d probably kill her if he didn�t let her ride his cock on top.� A second later, they were out of sight.
Another girl slid into his booth.� Knowing he wasn�t going to get what he really wanted, Mike settled for second best, not that this girl wasn�t fine. Soon, he forgot all about the little minx and allowed himself to enjoy the moment, as the buxom babe rubbed her bare breasts in his face to the beat of the old Foghat tune, �Slow Ride�.�� As the tempo increased, the rubbing became a pummeling, as she beat about his face with her tits while grinding her nearly bare ass into his jeans covered hard cock.
He was about to haul the big bosomed girl into the back for his own slow ride when he noticed that the little minx was back in the booth with fatman.� The tub of lard was paying his tab and the girl had her dress back on.� The fat guy threw some bills at the petite girl and was then on his way.� Mike seriously considered changing horses in midstream, but with the strains of �Love the One You're With� playing, he decided against it.� Still, he watched with longing as the petite girl walked back towards the stage area where another girl was going through her routine.
�C�mon.� Let�s go, honey,� he told the big breasted babe.
�What�s your pleasure?�
�For starters, your cunt.�
�Whatever you want, Lover.�
Half hour later, with his nuts freshly drained, Mike was back in a booth, watching the girls dance on stage.� His attention was riveted when the petite minx made her appearance.� To ZZ Top�s �La Grange� she pranced about in her platform slut-slippers.�
Slipping the straps from her shoulders, she began a practiced tease, flashing a demur tit here and there while leering men threw dollar bills up on the stage at her feet.� Soon she was topless, with the dress bunched around her waist.� The dress miraculously stayed in place as she gyrated her hips.� Then with an almost imperceptible move, the dress began inching down off her hips, to the hoots of her audience.
To Mike she looked absolutely yummy prancing about in her red g-string.� Normally, she�d be everything he wanted and needed to slake his appetite for a young girl.� There was just something about her.
Larry leaned over and said, �Man, she looks to be not a day older than fourteen.�
�Yeah, that she does,� agreed Mike as she began pulling down the g-string.� With the g-string down and her bare puss on display, she looked even younger.
�Man, is she legal?� asked Larry.
�I guess so,� replied Mike.
The two men, like all the unoccupied men in the joint, watched enthralled as she danced to another song, this time lewdly displaying her cunt and asshole.
�Man, I�ve gotta have that,� Mike said to his partner who nodded his understanding.�
Mike caught the attention of a cocktail waitress. Sticking a twenty in her bra top, he said, �See that girl.� The one on stage.� Bring her to me.�� He pulled out another, a crisp twenty.� Waving the bill he told her.� �Bring her here after her set and this is yours.�
�Sure, Mister," she gushed.� It was rare to get a big tip as a mere cocktail waitress.
At the conclusion of the third song in her set, the petite minx scooped up all the cash on stage, her dress and g-string, then scurried off stage.�
Ten minutes passed and the cocktail waitress delivered the girl to Mike.� Mike tipped the waitress as promised and turned to the girl who was looking away.� �Lose the fucking dress, honey,� he growled throwing a twenty on the table in front of her.� Without hesitation she pulled the dress over her head and turned to face him.
There was something familiar in her features.� The hair was the wrong color and it was much shorter, but she definitely reminded him of Kara. Her body had budded, but it had been several years since he last saw her.
�Kara?�
�No, my name�s Candy.�
�You look like someone I know.� A girl named Kara.� Do you recognize me with this beard?�
�No,� she replied.� �You want a dance?�
�Are you sure you�re not Kara Smith?�
�Do you want a dance or not?�
Looking into her eyes, Mike snorted; the eye color was close, but � damn it, he really couldn�t exactly remember.� No, it couldn�t be.� Still� �Yeah, sweetie, I want a dance,� he replied while running his hand over her small tits.
�Jenny said you�d want more than just a dance.�
�Yeah, that�s right, sweetheart.� But let�s just start with a dance.�
�Okay, Daddy.� Whatever you want.�� The girl impishly smiled as she crawled up into his lap and straddled him.� It was a smile that Mike recognized instantly.� His cock surged.� In that instant Mike decided that it would be best if he continued their charade.� After all, what was done was done.� She was now a whore and if not him, then it would be someone else.��
The music began with a strong beat and the nearly nude petite girl began to grind her ass into Mike�s stiff cock while he held and stroked her nearly bare hips with his beefy hands.� With practiced ease she smiled into her father�s bearded face with a �come fuck me� expression on her young face.� She leaned back, thrusting her A-cup titties towards him. Mike bent forward and licked at her pebble like nipples, laying kisses all across her small tits.�
While leaning back she somehow managed to open his zipper and fished his erection out. Then, with practiced ease, she pushed aside the thin cord of her red g-string riding up her slit.��
Mike groaned as he felt the wet heat of his daughter�s bare cunt sliding along the length of his bare cock.� He knew he should stop and put an end to this now, but his now raging libido fogged his judgment.���
�Do you like that, Daddy?� she asked in whisper.� �You want to fuck me, Daddy?�
Before he could form the words, she reached down and directed the head of his cock to her pussy.� Mike�s eyes nearly burst from his head as he felt his cock sliding up into the hot, juicy fuck tunnel of his daughter�s sex.�
The hard driving music continued and she continued to gyrate.� She didn't move up and down, just back and forth, rubbing her clit on his pelvic bone with her daddy�s dick shoved up her cunt as far as it could go; grinding her clit into the wiry hair of his pubis, grinding his cock in her cunt and grinding his glans against the bony ring of her cervix.� He felt her cunt contracting and squeezing his male flesh, her body shuddering as she climaxed on his dick.�
Losing control, Mike began lifting her by the hips and slamming her back down on his cock, wildly pumping his cock in and out of his young teen daughter.� She in turn was bucking and heaving while her daddy was ramming his thick demanding cock deep and hard into her steaming pussy.� She pumped her ass up and down, his cock jabbing up inside her with each down stroke. Her sopping cunt mouth and his groin slapped together repeatedly, with a dull wet smacking sound as his prick slid back and forth within her.
Larry, his most recent honey having been paid and gone, turned to watch the young slut openly fuck his good buddy. Nervously he glanced about briefly to see if anyone else was watching, but in a place like this, things just happen sometimes.
Mike had to stifle his cry as his cock pumped his incestuous sperm into his whore daughter�s cunt.� The veins stood out in his neck and the sweat came off him in sheets, as he pummeled her jerking tunnel again and again, each stroke sending another gush of steamy jism splashing up into her slippery quim.�
Then there was relative quiet and calm.� The music stopped and fucking stopped.� Her cuntal contractions continued and as Mike�s cock grew soft, it was expelled, slithering out of Kara�s cunt with all the grace of a wet slug.� He felt his cum trickling from her cunt and onto his spent dick to soak his jeans.
Kara had her arms wrapped tightly around Mike�s neck, as they both gasped for breath, struggling to regain their composure. Finally she giggled in his ear, �We�re supposed to use a condom� club rules��
�Kara, I��
�Kara�s gone, Daddy.� I�m Candy now.� She paused, drew back and looked Mike in the eyes.� �Do you like me now?�
�Kara��
�Candy,� she corrected.
�Kara,� he asserted, �I�ve always loved you.� I know your mother told you all sorts of things that just weren�t true��
�Did you give Mama the clap right after I was born?�
�Uh, well� yes��
�Then it wasn�t all lies, was it?�
�About me and her, maybe not, but about me and you��
�Shhhhh.� I know it was her.� She�s a bitch, a selfish bitch.� With her it is all about me, me, me and I, I, I. You know, her boyfriend raped me.� Raped me every chance he had.� Mama� Mama blamed me; said was I trying to steal her man and she threw me out.� I had nowhere to go and you weren�t around to save me, Daddy.��
�Kara, I� I have to leave tomorrow.� Early.�
�Where to this time?�
�Indonesia for four to six months�� Maybe I shouldn�t go.�
�I�ll be here when you get back, Daddy.� They treat me nice and I have fun.� This is so, so much better than living with Mama.�
�Are you sure?�
�Yes, I�m sure,� she replied confidently.
�Do they know how young you are?�
�Of course!� But Candy Kane�s birth certificate says she�s eighteen. �The sheriff doesn�t really believe it, but he plays along and gets what he wants��
She thought for a moment then blurted out, �You want to come see my room?� It�ll cost you, but� you can stay until the morning.�
�I�d love to see your room, Baby.�
�
END
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