Adventures of Silky #4 The green reaper
I wrote this during my freshman year at college. Jess & I both lived at home, and just went to classes. It was like high school, only harder.
So much has happened; I moved in with George & Jessica. We're what they call an "unconventional family." He's the dad, we're the daughters, there is no mom. But how many dads sleep in a big bed with their daughters curled up naked beside them, after fucking both of them long and hard every night? Not to mention what we do to each other, and occasionally to George's 'friends.'
Anyway, we're a happy family. Everybody fucks everybody, so no body's grumpy or moody, and we all have jobs. Ours is to be students, and wash the dishes, and carry out the garbage, blah blah blah,
George can be strange, however. For example, he decides what we wear, or don't wear, as in panties, bras, etc. But we're good students. He insists. That's why every night we do our homework bent over the dining room table without our drawers on, and he patrols with his riding crop. Let your attention wander just for a second and "Bam!" That cane really hurts!
I tried to argue with him one night about why I was just gazing at the wall while I thought, but he says you think better staring at the text, and I got three lashes for arguing.
We're both friendly, but other girls socialize more. Of course, while they think we're sitting at home having no fun, we're having sexual adventures they never even thought of. George controls it all –we fuck or suck whoever he says, but never anyone else, except each other sometimes, especially after I've rubbed her ass with lotion when she's been whipped, or she has helped me with the difficult job of trimming, but never shaving, my fiery red pubic jungle. Then, sometimes, hands wander, lips touch, and things happen that weren't planned. We also are responsible for douching each other, because George insists on strawberry flavor, and he likes for us to help each other.
One Tuesday, George decided on a new treat. For supper, we were going to have pussy marinated zucchini. He produced two fresh, hard, turgid zucchini (zucchinis?) and instructed each of us to insert one in our vaginas. We were to carry them all day, to make them extra tasty for supper.
"No panties today, that would be too easy," he said.
"But, but, but..."
"That's right. If it doesn't work we'll try butt flavored cucumbers. Am I clear?"
So we rode off to school with zucchini stuck in our twats. I promise, one can think of little else in that situation. Ride to school, and every bump humps you. Walking between classes requires lots of concentration. And one tends to not pay attention to the surround.
"Silky!" Ms. Hutton grabbed my arm and pulled me into her office. "You don't seem yourself today. Are you alright?"
She was the over-zealous psychology instructor who thought she was a psychiatrist.
"Oh, no, I'm fine." I replied.
"Well, I know with your Grandma dying, and your parent's divorce, you're under lots of stress. And college is hard for everyone as an initial adjustment. So if you need to talk, I'm here. Are there any 'boyfriend' problems you need help with?"
