Phoenix Rising

by Anais Ninja

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  Chapter Three - Roadrunner

  Dana woke me up the next morning. It was still early, not even 7:30 in the morning, and I wanted to get some more sleep. Dana was insistent, getting into the cot and snuggling against me, kissing my cheek and lips until she knew I was awake.

  “Bugs Bunny is on,” she said, gleefully. “C’mon, Annie.”

  I let her drag me out of bed, stopping only to grab my kimono, and following her into the living room, where she turned on the television and sat cross-legged on the floor. I could hear David waking up, too, and he padded down the hallway in his bathrobe, sitting down next to his sister on the hearth rug. Even the dog joined us, stretching out at our feet.

  I got up and went into the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee and pouring three bowls of cereal, bringing them into the living room on a tray. We sat in front of the television, munching our breakfast while we watched that scwewy wabbit outsmart Elmer Fudd. I’d seen these cartoons many times before, watching them with Paco on Saturday mornings, but watching them with Dana was like seeing them anew.

  Roadrunner was on next, and the desert landscape reminded me of some of the places I’d seen from the airliner as we approached Phoenix. My father had taken the day off to show me around town, just some sightseeing, touristy stuff. I made a note to ask him to show me the desert, the wasteland just beyond the hills.

  My father and Mia woke up about an hour later, joining us in the living room with their coffee. David and Dana were disappointed to hear that they were going shopping with Mia; they’d prefer to come sightseeing with my father and I. While Mia went into the kitchen to make some breakfast for Frank and herself, the kids pleaded with their father to let them come along, to no avail. I took a quick shower and got dressed, black tank top, denim miniskirt, and a grey sweatshirt.

  My father drove me all around the city, Downtown Phoenix, Mesa, Scottsdale, Tempe. He showed me the university, we spent some time at the zoo, had lunch at the museum. After we ate he asked me what I wanted to see.

  “The desert,” I said. “I want to see the desert.”

  “The desert? It’s pretty boring,” my father said. “Wouldn’t you rather go shopping or something?”

  “I can shop in Boston,” I said. “But there’s no desert there. I want to see it. Please, Daddy?”

  “Okay, if you insist,” he said. My father made a U-turn and we headed out of town, passing through one of the Indian reservations. It wasn’t like I expected to see teepees or something, but I was still surprised at the trailers and tin-roofed wooden shacks, rusting cars without wheels, sitting on cement blocks, old pickup trucks and jeeps, barefoot kids playing in the dirt. My father turned on to a two-lane road that narrowed down to one lane, and then the pavement abruptly stopped. His Cadillac wallowed over the ruts in the dusty dirt road, and then slowed to a halt between a pair of rocky bluffs that led to a small canyon.

  “Here we are,” my father said. “Is it what you thought it would be?”

  “I guess,” I said. I suppose I had some image of a sandy sea of dunes, like the Sahara or something. For a desert there was a lot of life: stunted trees, scrubby little shrubs, cactus plants both tall and short, birds, insects, little reptiles that darted back and forth through the undergrowth. My father knew the names of some of the plants, the tall saguaro cactus, the stumpy barrel cactus, mesquite trees, Russian thistle, sagebrush, cottonwood. I got out of the car and walked around as my father reached into the glove compartment for his camera.

  “I don’t have any pictures of you, Anne,” he said, taking off the lens cap. “Do you mind?”

  “Sure, Daddy,” I said, posing next to a saguaro cactus that was three times my height. He clicked away at the shutter while I posed, just standing there like a tourist.

  “Hang on a sec,” I said. It was warmer in the desert than it had been in town, and I pulled my sweatshirt over my head. My tank top rode up with it and, because I wasn’t wearing a bra, I could feel the sun on my nipples. I heard my father press the shutter three times before I was able to tug my tank top back down over my titties.

  “Daddy!” I shrieked, throwing the sweatshirt at him. He laughed and caught it on the fly.

  “Sorry, princess,” he chuckled. “I couldn’t help it. I’ll expose the film if you want.” I thought about it for a moment. There was no doubt in my mind that he’d jerk off over these pictures, but instead of being disgusted at this thought, I was sort of turned on, thinking about how I’d aroused him. There was a growing bulge in his khaki trousers, and it was a struggle keeping my eyes off of it.

  “Don’t bother,” I said. “I don’t mind. Really.” I prove how I felt, I lifted my tank top again, exposing my little breasts to my father. He smiled and brought the camera up to his face, clicking the shutter three more times.

  “Where are you going to get these developed?” I asked him. Cecil had his own darkroom, so no one but he had to work with the sexy images he’d taken when I was posing for him.

  “I know someone down at the photo lab,” my father replied. “I’ll slip him some cash. My firm gives him all of our business, anyway. He won’t tell.”

  So there would be another man looking at my breasts, a stranger who would probably yank his cock while he looked at these pictures, maybe even make copies for himself. I didn’t care. My horniness from the night before started to return; I hadn’t had time to take care of myself in the shower that morning.

  I thought about Cecil again as I posed for my father, bending over so he could see my panties, letting my miniskirt rode up my thighs. He opened the trunk of the car and pulled out an old army blanket, spreading it over the car’s hood. I hopped on top of it, feeling the hot metal through the scratchy brown wool. As my father took more pictures, I spread my legs for him, pulled off my tank top, cupped my breasts as if I was offering them to him. In a way, I was.

  “Damn, I’m out of film,” my father muttered. I reached for my tank top to pull it back on, but he said “Don’t get dressed just yet.” He pulled another camera from the glove compartment, a Polaroid, the kind that took instant pictures. He opened the camera and inserted a film cartridge.

  “I use this when I’m trying to sell a house,” he said. “I take a picture of the happy family in front of their future home and give it to them. Works like a charm.” The camera whirred and spit out a cardboard blank and then he was ready. I leaned back on the hood of the car and unzipped my skirt, wriggling out of it and placing it next to my tank top. Wearing only my white cotton bikini panties and a pair of sneakers, I continued posing for my father. As I spread my arms and legs, he hovered over me, smiling as he clicked through a cartridge of film.

  I licked my lips for him, cupped my breasts, pulled my panties up so my labia made an imprint in the cotton crotch, rolled over so he could photograph my bottom, tugged the panties down so my crack was visible. I did everything but show him my pussy. Three cartridges later, he was out of film, and I got dressed again.

  We sat in the car and watched the pictures develop, the colors slowly fading in from a light grey haze, becoming clearer and more vivid. My father practically drooled over them, and the bulge in his trousers had grown even larger.

  “God, you’ve grown, Annie,” he said, his voice practically cracking with lust.

  “Do you think I’m pretty, Daddy?”

  “Pretty? Beautiful,” he said. “Just beautiful.” He stacked the pictures together and slipped them into the pocket of his sports jacket, his eyes fixed on my bare thighs. He wanted me then, he wanted to take me on the hood of the car, or in the back seat, to make love to his pretty girl, to feel my sex surround his hardness. He was about to say something but then he shook his head, starting the car and putting it into gear.

  “We should get back,” my father said. “Mia will have dinner waiting for us.”

  We rode back to the house in silence, and every so often my father would glance over at my thighs again, and then back to the road. My skirt had ri
dden up a bit, but I made no attempt to pull it back down. When we returned home, my father disappeared into his office, closing and locking the door behind him. I knew he’d gone in there to jerk off, probably with all of the Polaroids of me spread out on top of his desk.

  Dana was eager to show me the clothes her mother had bought her that day, the disappointment of not coming with my father and I all but forgotten. She’d been taking dance lessons, ballet, and was proud of her new toe shoes, her leotards and tights, pink wool leg warmers, and a frilly tutu for her first dance recital. I helped her put it on and we went into the kitchen to find Mia, who was beaming proudly as she watched Dana execute a perfect pirouette. Mia poured me a glass of wine, and I led Dana back to her room, helping her out of her outfit and hanging the tutu up in the closet. As I sat on the cot and sipped my wine, I watched Dana slip on her new black velvet leotard. It hugged her slim body, especially her round little bottom, and I felt a little twinge of lust begin to grow in my belly.

  “You look so pretty in that, sweetie,” I said. Dana smiled and twirled around, and then she walked over to the cot.

  “Thank you,” she said, standing in front of me, an expectant look on her face. I reached out and straightened part of the legband of her leotard that had gotten folded under, exposing a bit of her panties, tugging the black velvet down over the white lace trim.

  “You said I could watch you last night,” she whispered. It took a moment to remember what she was talking about: she’d wanted to watch me masturbate after I had showed her how much pleasure her little button could give her.

  “I don’t know if there’s enough time right now,” I said. “Dinner’s going to be ready soon.”

  “There’s time,” Dana said. “We’re having pork chops and Mommy hasn’t started them yet.” She was right. Mia was still making bread crumbs when we’d gone in to the kitchen to show her Dana’s new outfit. There was no denying that I was horny right then, and as Dana stood before me in her cute little leotard, a pleading look in her big blue eyes, I felt my resolve begin to weaken.

  “Okay, baby,” I whispered. “But we’ve got to make this quick, okay? I want you to help me get off.” Dana smiled and nodded vigorously. I stood up from the cot and unzipped my skirt, stepping out of it and laying down on Dana’s bed, which was quieter than that creaky old cot. As I pulled off my tank top, Dana wriggled out of her leotards and climbed into bed next to me, wearing just her panties.

  “Touch me here,” I said softly, taking her hand and placing it on my breast.

  “I want boobies like yours,” Dana said.

  “You’ll have them some day,” I said. I glanced over at the picture of her mother on the table next to Dana’s bed. In the photo, Betsy was wearing a low cut blouse that showed off her ample cleavage. “All this and more.”

  Dana looked at the picture of her mother and then at me, smiling as she caressed my little breasts. I had just begun to fill out an A cup bra; my own mother was barely a B.

  “That feels nice, honey,” I cooed as Dana fondled me. She leaned in and placed her lips on my nipple, lightly suckling me, just as I’d done for her the night before. I closed my eyes and slipped a hand under the waistband of my panties, squeezing my mons, slipping a finger between my nether lips.

  “I want to see,” Dana said, releasing my nipple from her lips when she saw my hand moving inside my cotton undies. I lifted my bottom off the bed and pulled down my underwear, slipping them off my legs. Dana scooted down to the foot of the bed, curling up between my feet to watch me pleasure myself. I spread my legs wider and parted my labia with my fingers, showing her my sex. She watched, fascinated, as I dipped a fingertip in my wet slit and brought it up to my little pearl, slowly circling it, teasing it from its hiding place.

  “It’s so wet,” Dana said.

  “That’ll happen when you’re older,” I said.

  “Why does it get so wet?” she asked.

  “It makes sex easier,” I replied. She thought about that for a moment and nodded, watching as I slipped a finger inside my passage while my other hand was busy with my clit. I watched her watching me, and then I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up a fantasy, something to bring me to a quick release.

  All I could think of was my father, who at that moment was probably locked in his office, his pants down around his knees, cock in hand, looking at the Polaroids he’d taken that afternoon, jerking off into the panties he’d stolen, while he fantasized about taking me on the hood of his red Cadillac convertible. I tried to picture his cock, thinking back to the times when he used to give me a bath, placing my little hands on his hardness and urging me to stroke him.

  I began to picture myself on the hood of the car, lifting my bottom as he pulled down my panties and climbed between my legs. I could almost feel the tip of his hard cock pressing between my labia, pushing into me, every bump and vein on his shaft as he filled me. I began to finger my clit harder, inserting a second finger into my slit, sawing them in and out. My pleasure began to build, starting in my belly, spreading down through my thighs and up to my breasts, taking control of my body as I diddled myself.

  I imagined a bird’s eye view of the hood of the car, my father’s tanned body pumping between my legs, my arms wrapped around him, my hips moving to his rhythm, the car bouncing slightly on its front suspension. That was all I needed, and I began to come, stifling my moans as my thighs began to quiver and my bottom lifted up from the bed. I kept fingering myself, though, climbing to a second, higher peak before collapsing back on to the mattress, exhausted and satisfied.

  I licked my fingers, tasting my nectar before sitting up and gently pulling Dana on top of me. She giggled and nuzzled my neck as I caressed her smooth back and little bottom. It was then that I noticed that the bathroom door was slightly open, and I caught a glimpse of a single blue eye and a coffee-colored cheekbone in the gap.

  “Get in here, Davy,” I said. There was a moment’s pause and then the door slid open. David stood in the doorway and blushed, naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist, an obvious erection tenting the plush terrycloth material. Dana stared at it, fixated on its bobbing motion, her mouth slightly open, an expression of fascination and lust on her pretty face.

  “Sorry...I...sorry...,” he stammered.

  “Get over here,” I commanded. He walked over and stood next to Dana’s bed. I reached out and tugged at the towel, pulling it off of his hips, revealing his erect penis.

  “How much did you see?” I asked him. “Tell me the truth.”

  “Just about all of it,” David replied. “I’m sorry.”

  “What do you think we should do with him?” I asked Dana. She shrugged her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry, Annie,” he said again.

  “Well, you saw me, David,” I said. “It’s only fair that we get to watch you. Right, Dana?” She smiled and nodded her head.

  “Watch me what?” he asked.

  “Lay down on that cot and jerk off,” I replied.

  “No way,” he protested.

  “Okay, I’ll just tell Daddy that you were watching us get dressed,” I said.

  “No, don’t,” he pleaded. “I’ll do it. Just don’t tell on me.” David reluctantly laid down on the cot next to Dana’s bed, lying on his back and taking a deep breath. I had Dana roll over on to her side and I snuggled up against her back, caressing her flat chest and tummy as we watched him take his cock and balls in his hands, stroking the former and cupping the latter. David closed his eyes and took another deep breath, probably replaying what he’d just seen in his mind.

  “I’ve never seen it like that,” Dana said. “It usually isn’t that big.”

  “You’ve seen him before?” I asked her.

  “Our real mommy used to let us run around without our clothes when we were younger,” Dana said. “Before she left us.”

  David smiled when he heard this, remembering another time when he and his sister would parade around the house naked, unashamed. His
hips began to move as he stroked his shaft with one hand, holding his foreskin tight with the other. While I watched him masturbate, I slipped my hand inside Dana’s little cotton panties, rubbing her puffy little slit with my fingers. She began to hump my hand, moving her hips in time with her brother’s, grinding her little bottom against my thighs. When Dana began to gasp with delight, David opened his eyes and looked over at us, moving his hips a bit faster when he saw my hand in his sister’s panties.

  “Your brother has a beautiful cock,” I said to Dana. If only there was more time; I would have loved to show her how to put such a nice erection to good use.

  My fingers pressed deeper into Dana’s damp cunny, finding her little button and circling it with my fingertip. She let out a little moan of pleasure and began to move her hips faster, making my moist finger run back and forth over her clit.

  David was stroking his penis quickly now, his breathing becoming fast and shallow, his eyes glued to his sister’s crotch. They were both getting close to their release, and I decided to speed things up but pulling Dana’s hair away from her face, kissing her neck, and nibbling her earlobe with my lips. She gasped and began to convulse in my arms, humping my hand faster and harder as she came.

  Seeing his sister climax had the desired effect on David and, as his fingers danced over his shaft, he drew a sharp breath and his body began to tense, his hips rocking quickly now, making the old cot rattle and creak. Suddenly he stopped in mid stroke, a ropy stream of semen erupting from the tip of his smooth boycock, followed by another, streaking across his body and landing on his chest. He shot a third, smaller spurt which pooled on his belly, still connected to his glans by a thin white thread. David relaxed on the cot, still holding his softening penis, a smile crossing his face.

  “Wait, don’t do that,” I said as I saw David reach for a towel to wipe the sperm from his chest and belly. I pulled my hand from Dana’s panties, feeling her little body tremble with a post-orgasmic shiver, and climbed out of her bed, and kneeling next to the cot. Holding my hair back with one hand, I leaned over David’s body and began to lick up the semen that was cooling on his skin. He reached over and caressed my back as I cleaned his bronze skin, lapping up his boycum. When all that remained on his chest and stomach was a glistening trail of saliva, I moved down between his legs and began to clean off his soft cock with my lips and tongue.