Slide down. Satisfied, that I had done as he told me, he stood, closed his bathrobe and warned, "Don't tell anyone what just happened, or else you cazzo know what will happen to you." How could I tell cazzo anyone? I barely knew what had happened my self! In the next few months, I became aware what exactly was happening. Every morning, the same scenario would be repeated. He would strip me of my clothes, lay me across his lap and stroke my clit until I collapsed in orgasm. Then I would practise pleasing him, sucking his cock until he shot his warm thick cum in my mouth. Like a narcotic, I became addicted to him. I had begun seeking dad out when he would be alone in the garage or out in the barn. When he would notice me lingering about, he would wait until the coast was clear, pulling me
Into the dark and pull my panties down to slip his hand inside and finger me until I came, quivering and shaking in his arms. When it cazzo was over, he would send me away. Instead of being fearful, I became eager and anxious when he took to rising later each morning, or when I encountered him outside alone. No matter how late he rose, he would find me in skimpy pajamas, waiting for his ministrations. Now and then, he would oversleep and would find me dressed for school when he got up. He would act as if nothing were out of the ordinary and strip me before taking advantage of my body, barely finishing with me before the school bus arrived. A year after he had first begun initiating me into sex, mom was called out of town on a weekend trip to Chicago. Dad drove her to the airport,
Reassuring her at the gate that "Everything will be fine. I'll take good care of our little cazzo girl." As I heard him say this, I knew what cazzo he was intending. I wished I were going with her. I was tired of feeling guilty and yet, I loved the way my pussy felt when he made me cum. I had become hungry for his fingers. I wasn't found of sucking his cock, but I did it willingly because I knew that if I did, he would keep making me cum. At the same time, I was afraid of what he might do if I said, "No.". As he pulled the car into the long driveway to our home, hidden by thick pine trees, I felt his fingers stroking their way up my bare leg. I wiggled a little farther toward the door as he said, "You can't get away from me
That easy little girl. We're going to have a good time this weekend, you and me." Something in his voice sounded different and I began to...
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