Ted Leonard - Discipline for daughter

Pretty little Marsha Brennan cowered under the covers as she heard the front door open and close. From the sounds in the other room, she knew her father was drunk again. She heard bumps and scrapes and something fell to the floor. She heard her father curse. Marsha dreaded these sounds in the night, sounds any other teenaged girl would pay little attention to. She drew the blankets tighter around her neck and shuddered. Odd feelings coursed through her body. The cold fear, the shortness of breath, the mounting dread, these she could understand. It was the other feelings she couldn't grasp the tickle deep in her belly, the funny feeling in her cunt and the tingling of the pink nipples on her jutting tits.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth and shut her eyes tightly. Please God, she prayed, silently, don't let him come in here again. Please let him pass out.

She heard footsteps approaching her bedroom. Her heart beat wildly behind her rising and falling tits. Panic seized her and she squeezed her thighs together. But the pressure against her pussy created sizzling feelings and she quickly let her legs fall open, again.

The footsteps stopped, turned around, and went away. Her father was returning to the living room. Marsha stuffed the blanket in her mouth to keep from sobbing aloud. She was so scared, so deathly afraid of her father. Tears welled in her eyes and she rubbed her fists into them.

Her mother would have chided her for that and she knew it. "Don't do that, darling," her mom would have said. "You'll make your eyes all red."

A shudder ran through Marsha's body and she sniffled. She could almost hear her mother's loving words and for a second she imagined that her morn was still alive.

She missed her mother terribly and as she thought of her, new tears came to her eyes. Why did she have to die? Marsha cried to herself. It's not fair. She was so kind and good. Why does God let all the bad people live while good ones like her mother had to die? I need you, Mom, she said in her mind, I need you so much!

But her mother was gone and Marsha was utterly alone, stuck with a drunken, brutal father and a brother who was twenty years old and also drank too much.

Marsha's ears perked up. She could hear no sounds in the living room or anywhere. She relaxed her grip on the comforting blankets and heaved a sigh of relief. Her reined tits quivered.

Maybe he passed out, she thought with hope. Maybe he's too drunk to come in here tonight. She held on to that thought like a child holds on to her teddy bear. He's drunk! He fell asleep on the sofa, or on the floor. He'll just lie there until Ernie gets home.

She looked at the small clock on her nightstand and figured the time. It was late and Ernie would be home soon, even if he stopped for a few drinks. His shift at the factory in town was over at ten. He'd come home and find their dad lying there drunk. He'd start razzing him and he'd wake up and be angry. Then they'd go into the kitchen and there'd be more drinking until they both fell down drunk.

Marsha closed her eyes and tried to think about sex. That was better. She liked to daydream about sex, because that meant she could feel good about herself. Her hands slipped under the covers and she shivered a little. She knew how to banish the horrible thoughts of her lecherous father from her mind. She simply had to stop thinking about him.

Every time she remembered what he had done to her she felt weak and lost, terribly alone. She would have to forget what he had done. It was the only way she could find peace within herself. She had to pretend that nothing absolutely nothing had happened!

Marsha escaped into her private world of pleasurable sex. She smoothed her hands over her quivering tits lightly and sighed. She felt her nipples harden and push out against her hands and she caressed them tenderly. It felt nice.

"Ohhh," she moaned softly and pushed her tits upward against her moving palms. Her fingers touched and danced around, her swollen nipples and bet whole body trembled.

"Mmmm," she murmured, slipping her hands below her thrusting tits. She smoothed her hands slowly ova her rippling flesh. She liked to feel her own soft skin, so velvety to her touch. The tips of her fingers touched the mound of her pussy and a deeper sigh made her tits rise and fall quickly.

She quivered as her fingers rubbed into her pussy-hair. Her legs parted and her fingers smoothed downward between them to her silky cunt. Her fingers trembled slightly as she parted the soft lips, of her pussy and began to rub her delicate, sensitive clit. That was marvelous.

She shuddered with pure pleasure as her hands moved between her thighs and her fingers slid up and down along her cunt-slit. Her sighs increased in number as her naughty fingers slipped sexily over her tender, pink pussy-flesh. Sex sure was nice this way, she thought dreamily.

Little quivers of excitement started to ripple through her straining body each time her fingers contacted the sensitive spot at the top of her cunt-slit. Marsha sighed deeply and let her fingers press and squeeze her stiff little clit.

Mmmm, she thought, why can't it always be like this? Why does my dad have to get drunk and

She pushed the memory of her father out of her private world of pleasurable sex and quickly resumed her juicy thoughts by working her fingers ever faster along her pussy-channel and clit.

To concentrate on what she wanted most, she pulled her quivery cunt-lips apart and tipped her hips up. The tip of a forefinger diddled her clit and twirled it around. She knew instinctively that the feelings would be even better if she got a finger up into her horny little fuck-hole. That would be exciting.

Her breath caught in her throat and her face reddened with increased passion just imagining her finger drilling into her pussy. She wiggled her cute little ass on the bed and worked her cunt into a better position. She knew exactly what she wanted and it had nothing to do with her raunchy father. She wanted to shove something stiff up her cunt-channel. She wanted to be fucked by something that felt like a prick a nice prick.

Marsha stretched her legs wide. With one hand she held her pussy-lips open and the other flew down to her crotch. She pushed her slim finger in the tightly clenching pink hole of her cunt.

"Oh!" she gasped as her long finger invaded her pussy. It was marvelous! It felt so good. But one finger wasn't enough to satisfy her sudden hunger for cock. She needed more, more than one finger to make it feel like a prick.

She groaned hotly and her ass came up off the bed as she eased another finger into the warm wetness of her squirming cunt. That was good! A gasp of delight escaped her constricted throat as she drilled her two fingers in and out of her pussy. The two fingers together were just right for her and felt like the right thickness.

Her eyes closed in rapture as she worked her fingers swiftly in and out of her churning cunt. The thrills got sharper and sharper and that familiar tickle deep in her heaving belly grew more furious. She was steamy with sexy heat as she fingerfucked herself. Her legs flailed beneath the covers and her cute ass wiggled all around on the bed.

She wanted the blinding, flashing streaks of joy to continue as they were. But they got stronger and stronger until she could stand it no longer. Suddenly she jerked in her bed and her body whipped around. She rolled onto her side and drew her legs up tightly, stuffing her fingers into her juicy pussy. She bit her lower lip and moaned hornily as her ass humped furiously and her pussy creamed with spasms.