The Tomboy

The year - 1835. The place - the Wild Wild West.

John McNaughtin was the typical Wild Western family man - he lived on the outskirts of a sleepy town whose only trouble came from the wild hogs that sometimes ran their way. No gun slinger had ever set foot in this town, and the sheriff was a quite cheerful seventy-year old man who hoped that he he still had the star when his age became three figures. The houses were wide-spaced, and had sizeable grounds of their own. The neighborhood was cheerful and pleasant, and on Sundays, the local vicar had a full house.

John McNaughtin and his wife Martha were quite happy with their lives. John had been fifteen when he had knocked up his eighteen-year old friend, Martha, but their families had been quite happy to let them tie the knot. His father gave him a small plot outside Sleepville (as the town was popularly known, its original name being buried under tons of dirt near the praire roads), and as time progressed, John was able to expand it into a sprawling farm. In spite of the vastness, though, John could manage the farm almost single-handedly, his right-hand being his beloved daughter, Georgia. The two went about almost everything together, whether it was roping calves, riding horses or mending the hedges. Martha, on the other hand, was quite content to play the housewife, waiting on her husband and daughter as they returned from a hard day's labour. Her husband's closeness with his daughter never threatened her - this fact made her proud, since she knew of other housewives who viewed their husbands' trips with their daughters' with suspicion. A part of it was justifiable, but in that sleepy town, nobody bothered even if you fucked your own daughter on the altar.

As she watched John and George - as she preferred to be called - ride off into the sunset, she sighed. Her daughter, at nineteen, was a lovely vision - but at a time when she should have fallen in love with one of the local boys, George was following in her rugged father's footsteps. She was the typical tomboy, mused her mother, always wearing jeans and sweaty shirts with the top two buttons undone. This did show a lot of her ample cleavage, but Martha was sure her daughter barely recognised the fact. The girl had sharp features, inheriting them more from his side of the family than hers, and perhaps that accounted for the testosterone as well. Her face was beautiful, her blonde hair even more so, but George rarely took the effort to keep herself free from dirt, and the result was that at first glance, only her figure seemed striking.

Finishing her work, Martha sat down in their living room, and turned to her journal. Halfway through the first page, her thoughts about George interrupted her, and she set the book down. As a mother, she had to admit that George's tomboyish attitude was starting to be worrying her a bit. The ultimate dream of any mother is to see her daughter accepted as a very responsible lady - and Martha was starting to fear she had failed. And then a plan occurred to her. A very interesting plan, indeed.

When John and George returned home that evening, Martha had prepared a wonderful meal, but unlike other days, she insisted they wash up before they started. George was the first to have her bath, and as she came out of the toilet, her father had just a small glimpse of her naked butt as she went into her room. This was not the first instance - once, a couple of months back, John had been bathing when George rushed into the toilet to relieve herself. She had stood just a foot away from her father, babbling something about their wild-hog hunt the next day. He had caught a glimpse of her blonde tuft.

As John returned from his wash, Martha led him into their bedroom. John smiled inwardly, knowing from previous experience that dinner would be cold by the time they got around to it - but he was disappointed. As soon as the door was closed, Martha turned to face her husband, a hand automatically keeping him at arm's length.

"Not now, John, we need to talk - about Georgia, that is!"

"Aw, honey, you know she hates that name. But somehow, I don't think that was the point you were trying to make."

"You are right, that is beside the point - come to think of it, it is in fact a part of what I have to tell you. Tell me, John, have we got a daughter or a son?"

"Of course, a daughter. What sort of a fool do - wait a minute, I think I see your point." John scratched his stubble thoughtfully. "What you mean is that George - I mean Georgia - needs to be more... feminine, right?"

"Yup," replied Martha, "I mean, even at Church she shows up in that cowboy dress of hers - I am not embarassed by her or anything John, but don't you think she is beautiful? I don't want her to spoil her good looks on the soil - no offense, John, the rugged look suits you, but is that what we want her pretty face to become? Some muscular scowl?"

John looked at his wife. The two women in his life were poles apart even in looks, but equally beautiful. Martha, as always, had a point. But the question was how to make his daughter change. After all, you don't ask her to become a woman overnight - she needs to be taught proper manners, the proper walk, how to respond to a man's touches - the last thought bothered him though.

"I can see what you are thinking, Johnny, my boy. If you want to listen, I have a plan - it's not a plan as such, but under the circumstances, it's one nonetheless. Wanna hear it?"

"Sure."

"We get her to fall in love - and before you object, let me name him. Don't worry, it's someone who ought to meet your standards in everything. Then again, I guess he should. You see, the guy I have in mind for our daughter is YOU!"

The last sentence hung in the air, until John found his voice and cut throught it.

"Martha, honey, did you have too much wine?"

She laughed. "That was expected. But look at it this way - we can't make her give up a way of living she so obviously loves - therefore, we have to make her love something even more. Do you remember how I had been, John - the wild carefree bird. Then I met you, fell in love... the rest, as someone in the future might say, is history. Now I am the quiet housewife who goes to Church every other day, sits at home by the hearth and knits and reads books. Oh, look what you've done to me, John!"

John smiled. "Well, at least it leaves you more fresh in bed - you are still the tigress I met."

Martha smiled back. "Well, it's high time you took the tiger cub for a lesson or two in these matters. Besides, I doubt if she has ever thoght of any other male than you - with the exception of Rex and Chester, but I figured I'ld rather have a human humping her. If you ask her to drop her pants, she would. So... your mission, John, should you choose to accept it, is to turn your daughter into a fine woman. The ends will justify the means, so if it means that I've to share you with her, then I guess I will start seeing more as a son-in-law."

John was already shaking her head. Martha held his face inher hands and looked into the inner depths of his eyes. "Look, I am not saying you grab her right now and have sex with her - just take her out during the nights, get her to wear something more feminine, like a skirt and blouse, seduce her. Make love to her. Or if you can't do it, get someone else - although I doubt she will even give him a second glance. You are her love, John, but it's upto you how you want to receive it."

For a second John deliberated his actions. Incest wasn't so taboo, and he wouldn't have to cover it up or anything - hell, it was a well-known secret that the Sheriff's third wife was his eldest daughter. The nagging doubt was about his daughter's feelings. Would she accept him - or if he failed, would she turn away from them?

"Okay," he replied. A vision of a naked Georgia had made the decision for him. "I will do it."

The dinner went off well, and at its end, John told George to dress up and go on a walk with him. Acting mildly surprised at the invitation, George asked her mother whether she would be accompanying them - Martha replied in the negative, saying that she didn't want to intrude on their private moments. With that enigmatic remark, she motioned her daughter to follow her into her wardrobe. She then handed over a blue dress, a thin skirt and a fluffy blouse. "take these, and wear them tonight. Surprise your dad!"

After half an hour, John and Georgia were off. They were walking to the boundary of their farm, then would stop briefly at the cabin nearby, and hoped to be back in two hours' time. As they walked, father and daughter held hands - the gesture had been John's, and to his relief, she had not pulled hers away. As the darkness enveloped them, John drew her closer to him. Fresh and clean, she was definitely the vision of loveliness. Her scent teased his nostrils and her hair seemed aglow with life. She was dressed to kill, he thought.

As they approached, the flash storm that was a resident of the area broke out. Both father and daughter were caught unawares, and by the time they had reached the shelter of the roof, both were drenched to the skin. The thin blouse now clung to her breasts, highlighting them for her father, and much to his dismay, the dark spot that a lightning had made visible only made it harder for him. Hurriedly, he unlocked the key, and rushed inside. In the darkness, he tripped over the rug and fell on the cot he had placed there earlier this season. He turned around just in time to see the dark image of his daughter falling on his. She was falling higher - and he felt the blouse cover his mouth as she fell over him. Instinctively, he hugged her and at the same instant, his mouth closed - on her breast!

George let out a loud moan as she felt her right breast being kneaded by his lips. The hitherto unknown feeling was causing incredible sensations in her, and she felt herself get wet for the first time in her life. She made no move to get up, choosing instead to enjoy the moment for as long as she could. For a minute, nothing happened, then her father's lips started moving. Even though he was trying to tell her to get up, it had the effect of sucking her breast - and Georgia started to moan even louder. After a couple of seconds, John felt himself lose control, and he let himself go. In earnest, he started to kiss her nipple through the thin fabric. Then suddenly, she stood up.

"Aren't you going to kiss me first?" She asked in a husky tone.

John paused only to light a small lantern, and then moved over to his beloved lover - his daughter. The small room was sufficiently brightened by the light from the lamp, and he pulled his daughter into a loving embrace. Their lips moved closer together until contact, then as if guided by an invisible force, their tongues entered each other. They danced with each other, an exquisite kiss that, John felt guiltily, surpassed anything he and his wife had ever shared. His hands moved down to her ass and gave it a squeeze. John felt his daughter's lips press harder into his as he started massaging her bottom. Without breaking the kiss, John and Georgia moved towards the cot and laid down on it. His hands slid the blouse off her shoulders, and as she felt her breasts jump free, she felt a trembling down her spine. John moved his hands to her breast and gently started kneading them, teasing her nipples with his fingers. They were already hard and hot, and a couple of centuries later, he could have compared them to popcorn. Her hands worked deftly at his buttons - most of her shirts had been his, after all - and within seconds, she was running her hands down his hairy chest. She had seen him shirtless before, but at the moment, in their intimacy, there was a thrill in running her fingers through them. And then her fingers found his nipples.

John broke off the kiss and placed Georgia on the bed, below him. He moved his head down to her breasts to pay homage to them, kissing them. The touch of his lips on her nipple was even more exciting than she had fantasised when he had first made contact through the blouse. And for the first time in her lives, she came. Her cunt was on fire, his making love making her burn from within. Automatically, a hand reached over his head and pulled him closer towards her pears, and John obliged. To him, the breasts were like sponge cakes topped with nuts - and he wanted to swallow the whole piece. After sometime, he moved over to the other breast, giving it the same treatment he had given the first one. His hands were trailing all over her flat stomach to her pussy hairs, which he started to tease by ruffling and tugging. Finally, his hands made contact with her lower lips - and Georgia came so hard that she was jerking off the bed. John started to toy with her pussy, drenching his hands with her come.

As he felt his cock ready to explode, he moved his mouth upwards. His tongue, though, could not resist the expanse of her skin from her breasts to her face, and he kissed every single part of them. Even then, he remebered that it was her first time, and instead of just sticking it up inside her, he gently probed her until he reached the hymen. He pulled back just a bit, and then rammed her as fast and as hard as he could. There was a single moan of pain as she felt the tear, and then, as John started to move his stick, she began to move her hips in rhythm with his. Together, they both came, the massive orgasm being enough to knock them senseless for the time being. They fell asleep in each other's arms, his cock still inside her, their relationship heading in a new direction.

John had always made it a habit to rise with the sun, but now he felt too lazy, or too intoxicated, to move. His daughter still lay on top of him, her blode hair falling about him as a sort of a veil. He had no regrets, only a slight worry that she might get pregnant - the thought of her carrying his baby made his cock twitch. Being still buried in her pussy, it had the effect of an alarm clock - it woke Georgia up. Her eyes opened briefly, then closed. After a couple of seconds, she opened them again and smiled at him. Slowly, unhurriedly, their lips met - the kiss of the perfect lovers who had all the time in the world. Their kiss was a long time in breaking up, and when they did, they just stared into each other's eyes and saw the love in them - the deepest promises.

And then, he whispered, "Shouldn't we get going, honey, George? Your mamma might be waiting for us..."

And she replied, in an equally conspiratorial tone, "I don't think so - perhaps, the later we are, the happier she will be." He looked surprised, so she explained, "I overheard you talking."

"Naughty girl," John chided, though both of them knew he didn't mean it.

"I think I like being your girl, Daddy. Maybe, one day, your wife... or at least, the mother of your child... Being a tomboy doesn't seem so ... appropriate anymore, for a mistress, does it Daddy?" she asked him sweetly.

He hugged her again. "Perhaps we could convince the vicar, you know. The Sheriff will look the other way, I am sure. But as far as the farm is concerned, I still think you are the best assistant I've ever had, so you'd better accompany me everyday. Shall we leave, George?"

"It's Georgia, Daddy. George is so - ugh - rough." Both of them laughed.

A scurrying noise caught their attention, and they looked towards the source. Rex was standing there, towering over his six small children - puppies - and he looked quite powerless as they grabbed the pieces of cloth on the floor and dragged them away. Even before the two lovers could get up, the seven naughty dogs had squeezed through thr dog-hole in the door.

"Well," John said, "It's a long way home, so we'd better start walking."

"Naked???" Georgia sked incredulously, but John could see she quite liked the idea.

"Sure. After all, we have to convince your mother I am the only one with the dick."

And hand in hand, they walked back to their house. John carried her over the porch. And in front of a beaming Martha, they kissed, in full view of anyone who wanted to see.