Chapter 4: Between Them

Vaguely the dull sense of the someone getting out of bed pulled Netty out of sleep. She peaked over the blankets long enough to see Rand stumble to the chamber pot in the corner before ducking her head back under cover and immediately back to sleep.

When she next rose close to the surface of waking it was due to a familiar hardness slowly stroking at her. It was jammed in the dipped valley of her behind and slowly trying to nestle itself further in, held back only by the fabric of the nightshirt. She knew from the familiar shape that it was Rand, but he was on the opposite side of her than when they’d gone to sleep. He was now the one by the wall. She reasoned when he’d gotten up to use the chamber pot she must have rolled into the warm divot he left behind, and he took her spot when he returned.

Despite his slow humping motions he was lightly snoring; he was still asleep. Netty found Papa to also still be sound asleep, but worried her brother’s continued nudging would wake up their father.

Netty tried to reposition a bit, hoping it would discourage Rand’s unconscious movements, and her hand brushed another oblong hardness in front of her. In the dim light of the dying fire she could just make out Papa’s sleeping face as he lay facing her on his side. She was frozen in place, the back of her hand lightly grazing his half-formed erection. The rise and fall of his breathing caused just the smallest friction between him and the back of her hand so that within a handful of breaths he was swelling. She kept her eyes locked on his sleeping visage as she flipped her hand to lay palm down against the growing rod. His brow knit together, but he didn’t wake up. An electric thrill passing through her to be doing something so audacious.

Barely daring to breath Netty ran her palm as slowly and lightly as she could up his shaft. He was longer than Rand, thicker, with such bulging veins she could feel them through his clothes. Even through the thick flannel fabric she could make out the sharp ridge around the head of his organ. Her hand grazed further up to palm the tip. His hips jerked, rubbing at the touch like a puppy begging to be pet.

Hadn’t he admitted he was in the same bad straights as she and Rand? He’d seemed almost jealous  of them when she thought back to the way he had handled the conversation. Just how long had It been since he’d last been brought to climax? Did he wake up in the mornings in a mess of seed from night time emissions beyond his ability to control? How often did he consider other alternatives to satisfying that need?

As his unconscious body nudged her hand she reasoned his last true orgasm had likely been when Gigi was conceived three years prior.

The back of her nightshirt pulled up, the next moment Rand was sandwiched between the wide mountains of flesh, his breath a tiny groan against the back of her neck. Her own need tingled and twitched in response. She gripped the wide heavy tip in both small hands and felt it respond, heard the man’s breathing hitch. Papa’s hips bucked up against Netty’s palms, encouraging her to give it more attention. Netty kept one hand gripped and squeezing the tip, her fingers of her other hand curling around the shaft as best they could. She gave it a solid pump that brought a true moan out of Papa’s throat.

Several seconds of her manipulations passed before Papa’s eyes slit open. She felt his hips grinding more forcefully into her grip, felt herself becoming more desperate for a release. In the pantry she’d been so close to finishing without being able to, and that tormenting desire came back at full force. But Rand was rutting against her back side with no attention at all to her front where she needed it most. He was behind her, only Papa was in front.

She kept their eyes locked as she freed the distended engorged shaft from his underclothes and guided the crown under the hem of her shirt and up against the dip at the front of her groin. She saw his expression as her needy little hardness twitched against his sensitive head like a finger tip beckoning forward. Netty knew he could feel the slick wetness pooled there. He couldn’t take his eyes off her face even as he tried to keep the twitching of his hips in check.

“Netty I told you what happened to Lott and his daughters,” he whispered, voice thick with the all-consuming strain of trying to rein himself in.

“You also told me that rubbing together like this was fine so long as nothing was going inside me,” Netty’s reply  shook.

Papa’s resolve broke in one hard stoke through her soaked furrow. Once started it was like he couldn’t stop. His fingers dug into the soft meat of her hips as his length rammed back and forth. Behind her Rand’s thrusts became more insistent. His hands came around her chest to hold himself steady. One of his fingers nudged a pebbled nipple and her whole body shuddered. He did it again, and realizing her could get such a response out of her he set both hands to teasing the nubs through her shirt until she was almost screaming.

In the space of a few minutes they had gone from peacefully sleeping to writhing beneath the blankets. Rand’s attention to her chest made each rapid fire stroke of Papa’s shaft on her button more intense than she could stand. If not for their grip she would have been thrashing, but she was packed so tightly between their shoving straining bodies she could do little more than shudder.

All at once the release crashed down on her harder than she would have thought possible before. Netty screamed into Papa’s chest and thrashed mindlessly, but they held her even firmer. Papa kept stroking her until again she was pushed over that precipice. She lost all sense until she felt Rand spray blistering seed in the nonexistent space where his front pressed to her back. He untangled himself from her and rolled away desperately gulping air.

Papa rolled Netty onto her back. His weight pressed her down into the feather mattress and he stared at her without seeing. His knees compressed her legs together and he plunged himself into the minuscule dip where they met at her groin .  The pressure on her button was unimaginable. It felt as if he were going to crush it. In less than a minute she was again releasing in another watery outburst. His motions suddenly became a frantic arrhythmia and she felt gout after gout of feverish fluid coat the inside of her thighs and seep into the puddle beneath her.

All at once he flipped them. She was dizzy, but he held her hips, the muscles in his forearms bulging as he rocked her slit back and forth from base to tip and back again. His spine and hips bowed off the bed. Netty’s head lolled bonelessly with the hectic motions.

With a last thrust Papa’s second white spurt sprayed across his chest, his shaft nestled between his stomach and her pelvis. It bobbed and pulsed, globs of seed slowly pushing out the tip.

She sat atop him gasping, shaking, the whole room spinning. Her hair had come loose from its braid and spilled the curling orange mass over her shoulders. Papa looked up at her as if he didn’t recognize her, eyes half lidded, one hand raising to caress a thick lock of hair. When she tried to raise a leg to get off him his grip tightened to keep her in place. She sat there straddling him, his half-soft rod tucked and pulsing against her sore bud.

“Did you cum?” he asked, voice flatter than she’d ever heard it.

“Y-yes, Papa,” she answered meekly.

“How many times?”

A blush colored her chest and reached up her throat all the way to the red roots of her hair. He gave the hair in his fist a sturdy yank when she didn’t answer.

“Four, maybe five times,” she reported, her voice a little pinched with embarrassment.

“Rub yourself on me,” Papa ordered.

“What?” she questioned, confused.

He gripped her hips with both hands and pulled her back and forth a few times.

“Rub yourself on me just like that, just like I did to you,” he commanded.

“But Papa you’ve already finished twice!” Netty exclaimed, “And I’ve had so many I can’t hardly feel my legs anymore.”

“Girl, I told you what to do,” he said darkly, still sliding her against his rehardening shaft. “You got my cock out and put it up to your snatch begging for it, now I want you to drag your cunt against it as much as you’re little whore heart can take. I want those lips between your legs to worship at its alter til it’s  wrung every last bit of that sinful desire out of them.”

Netty gaped at her father, mouth open in shock. She’d never heard such language out of him before, never heard that kind of tone directed at her. She was far too stunned to follow his order.

The mattress dipped as Rand positioned himself behind her.

“I know what’ll get you moving,” he announced brightly. The nightshirt was ripped off her. A moment later his hands dove under her arms from behind and pinching both nipples as hard as he could.

Netty screamed, thrashing, trying to shake him off. She felt her own too-sensitive anatomy gliding over Papa’s revitalized rod.  She clawed at Rand’s hands but he grabbed her wrists and twisted them behind her back, hiking them up painfully to her shoulder blades. At least with him holding her wrists he couldn’t torment her chest further. She was catching her breath when Papa’s rough fingers crushed the long bits of flesh and yanked, viciously, pulling her parallel across his stomach.

“I-told-you-to-fuck-yourself-against-me” Papa growled, each word punctuate with a roll of her nipples.

Netty moaned in pain, but she wasted no time in doing as he said. At first she thought he would let go, but to her dismay he held her down and rolled her captive nubs in time to her thrusts.

“If you could only see yourself from where I am…” Rand said behind her. With her arms twisted at such an angle and her chest pulled down her backside stuck out obscenely with every downward humping motion. “I’ve never seen a larger pair of cheeks on anything!” Rand’s open palm slapped her ass, watching it jiggle. He positioned himself so that she stroked him along her sopping, swollen folds with each backwards rub.

Each motion across her clit hurt now. It had had all it could take and was no longer willing to take more, but it was also unwilling to go down. It still stood erect, tracing a hard line over Papa’s shaft that he could distinctly feel.

“Papa ple-please, please let me st-st-st-stop,” Netty begged in jangled tones, tears pouring down her cheeks. “It hu-hurts so mu-uch.”

“You know better than to tell lies,” Papa admonished her in a gravely voice, pulling harder on her chest in punishment. “I can feel that clit hard as a rock on me; you’re wet’s been dripping down my sides since you got up there. You’re body’s more honest than your mouth, girl.”

Netty sobbed. She tried to slow her movement and was met with a slap her across the backside so hard she saw lights.

“I’m n-n-not lying, Papa! It re-really hurts,” she bawled, the cry turning into a shriek when he jerked up on her nipples. Her body automatically rose with that pull in attempt to alleviate the awful stretching pain. In the fire’s glow she looked down to see her tiny breasts pulled straight up. It felt like the nipples would pull free any moment now.

Papa sat up with her, his organ trapped between their stomachs, a mean little chuckle rumbling in his chest. Netty looked into his face and could hardly recognize him through the dark expression. He released her bruising nipples and her tears flowed freely. The blood rushed back into them, making them sting. Her numb arms were let go only for Papa to pin them at her sides with his arms. He pushed his hips up and down, up and down, deliberately drawing every inch of his shaft and head over her own unbearable miniature erection. His hands took hold of her hair and pulled back, forcing her chest to arch up close to his face and make it easier to clamp his lips over one of her still-pounding nipples. The broad of his tongue lapped at the tender nub in time to his systematic thrusts. The licking was almost soothing. Netty tried to focus on it to take her mind off the screaming  agony of her tortured slit.  When the hurt in her chest had died to a simmer he bit down, escalating the agony past where it had started, teasing and suckling like he could feed off the discomfort straight from its source. Each time the pain would slacken Papa bit savagely at her, sucking and grinding it between his teeth.

Rand had slipped himself between the cheeks of her backside and was crushing them together with his hands as he furiously humped. Each quick stab-like stroke rammed painfully against her back hole, the girth along the length of him forcibly prying open the puckered flesh in back and the opening to her unused hole in front.

As Netty stared up at the ceiling, her sobs silenced, she wasn’t sure if it was the friction of all that lubricated skin rubbing together, or if she was slowly losing her mind, but she was beginning to feel a heat radiating up from both holes. It rose up along the corridors inside her until they both pulsed with an empty ache. The pain in her nipples transformed into a hot tingle that throbbed in tandem with the holes.

Netty’s breath hitched suddenly. She bit her lips together to stifle a moan, instead making a whining mewling noise. Her clit had suddenly came back to full attention, the pain melting into something so overwhelming she couldn’t think form a coherent thought.