Taking Clementine Ch. 04: Confab

All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old

*****

When Mitch McFee felt his flaccid penis fully retract from the warm confines of his 18-year old granddaughter's formerly virgin vagina, he rolled off the inert body of the sleeping beauty and rose from her bed. Casually, he drug his left index finger along her swollen pink pussy's crease, collecting a thick sticky strand from the opaque goo oozing from her cunt. He held it up, studying it briefly, then said softly, "I surely do hope you counted your pebbles correctly, Darlin'." With a self-satisfied chortle, Mitch bent over Clementine, kissed her sweetly on her cheek and painted her lush bottom lip with the cream-pie residue.

Clementine, still soundly asleep, murmured "Mmmm...pah...pah." She opened her mouth slightly, tugged the greasy finger lightly with kissing lips and tasted Mitch's spunk on her tongue tip. Grinning broadly, Mitch withdrew his cleaned finger, covered Clementine with a blanket, then turned to the door of her rocky niche where he extinguished the nearby kerosene lantern and, in the dark, quietly finished his customized lullaby refrain:

"Oh, my Darlin', Oh, my Darlin',

Oh, my Darlin' Clementine,

You're cherry's lost and gone forever,

Don't be sorry, Clementine."

Stepping through to the passageway connecting the main cavern and cabin with the hot springs below, he padded barefoot along the descending worn rock floor of the natural hall toward the pools, unconcerned about the utter blackness and uneven surface. He idly wondered if his first daughter, Clementine's mother, Daphne, was still splashing and playing with Royce Engel, the young attorney, who had arrived that afternoon. "I reckon I'll find out soon enough," he answered himself as he rounded the last bend and saw a flickering glow in the near distance.

Mitch entered the high dome-roofed cave pocket and saw his own dropped blue jeans, work shirt, socks and boots in a pile, near a lit lamp on a spike in the rock above the largest of the three hot springs. He picked up the clothes in his left hand, the lantern in his right, and scanned the other two springs for any activity. There was none and he noted Engel's clothes and Daphne's light were missing from where they had been when he carried his youngest daughter up the tube to her room.

Humming indistinctly to himself, Mitch, still naked, headed up the tunnel toward the greater living area he had created thirty-odd years ago when he extended the large cave's opening and built out the three-walled log cabin from its mouth. As he approached the Big Room he began to feel the warmth from its burning hearth fire and heard vague echoing voices in low conversation. When he stepped from the tunnel into the cavern Mitch saw Daphne and Engel chatting by the fireplace in oversized, hide-upholstered, crude but well-crafted, pine lodge chairs.

Daphne, half-facing the tunnel, called out, "WELL! Aren't you just the proud and sassy one!" She laughed, as Royce turned his head at her comment and looked over his shoulder at Mitch. "Did you forget somethin'... or what?" She continued, shaking her head merrily.

Mitch suddenly remembered, thanks to the visual cue of seeing his daughter and lawyer fully dressed, that he was holding his clothes and not wearing them. He laughed with Daphne and answered, "Maybe forgetful... maybe just efficient... shoot, we were all naked in the baths a little while ago, weren't we?"

Royce joined in the group laughter. He felt much more like part of the family, now that he had thoroughly butt-fucked his client's daughter and common-law incestuous wife. Mitch paused at the edge of the plank floor and pulled on his pants and shirt. He remained barefoot, however, as he set down his boots and socks and crossed the room to hang his lantern on a beam hook.

"Come here and sit, Daddy," Daphne invited, sliding to her left in the big chair and patting the leather beside her. "Roy... er, Mr. Engel, was just about to explain the arrangements he has made for Clemmy."

Mitch smiled and sat, wiggling his hips against Daphne until they were both comfortably situated. "I think we already got on a first name basis with Mr. Engel, Sugar... didn't we, Royce?" He noted his daughter's tongue-slip and hastened to let them both know he had no illusions about what might have occurred while he was fucking Clementine. "That's fine, Royce," he continued, "Why don't you go on? I'd like to hear the details, too and this is as good a time as any. You want another pull on the jug? It's right there on the corner table, if you do." Mitch added, genially. "But, don't let us keep you up, either... you probably had a long day with some hard ridin'... feel free to excuse yourself anytime. There's a real comfortable cot in the tack-room you can use... I've slept on it myself, when ol' Charlie was ailin'."

"Thanks, Mitch," Royce answered sincerely. "Your 'hospitality' has already exceeded any expectations I had when I rode in. A cot in the barn will be just fine." He laughed, a little nervously. "But, sure, let me at least give you an overview. We can paint in the corners later." Daphne toyed with Mitch's hair and smiled placidly as she looked at Engel. He avoided her eye-contact, instead turning his head and looking fixedly over McFee's right shoulder, into the dining room beyond. He knew this old trick would convince his audience he was 'with them' without making them feel like he was staring them down.

Royce sucked in a breath and began. "We were very fortunate, really, Mitch. Of course the money was never an issue, thanks to your productivity and farsightedness." He saw McFee reach across and take Daphne's hand, squeezing it and smiling as Engel complimented them on their planning. "The main thing was identifying and securing the most advantageous placement for Clementine. We narrowed the field to two nearly identically top rated schools. Our choice was made for us when we found out the Chicago school's enrollment was filled and wait-listed."

Royce stood, walked to the fireplace and retrieved his shot glass from the mantel. He looked toward Mitch who merely shook his head, but pointed, with a sweeping open hand, at the small table to Engel's left. Royce uncorked the corn liquor, poured a finger-width into the glass and returned the jug to the table. Standing with his back to the fire's diminishing flames, Royce tossed back his whiskey and continued. "I actually always preferred the Ames Academy for Young Ladies, in Boston, but Mr. Lester had been thinking about a larger setting. Between you and me, I don't think he really understood your family business and location... but, be that as it may, Miss Hester Ames will be PERFECT for Clementine."

"How so, Royce?" Daphne interjected. "I gotta say, I'm a little bit worried that Clemmy might be too... oh, how should I say it, Daddy?... too 'OUTDOORSY?... you know for any real school in an actual CITY."

"Don't get us wrong, Royce," Mitch chimed in, supporting his daughters. "Clemmy is sure-fire to learn any school thing there might be... she is THAT smart! But, we're afraid for her, her never havin' been away from the mine, nor seen anyone but me and her Momma, at least until YOU rode in, which nearly made her faint, let me tell you." Mitch's leathery face softened noticeably and Daphne hugged him against her in their shared chair. "Is she gonna be laughed at, or ridiculed, because she isn't... ELEGANT?"

"Absolutely NOT," Royce emphasized, "That's exactly why I thought of Ames in the first place. Every four years she takes charge of three special young women in their 18th year and she works EXCLUSIVELY with them to develop whatever skill sets they may need. She does this for three years and when she's finished her students are polished to perfection in every regard. Then, Miss Ames 'retires' for a year to re-energize herself before she takes on another class. She's done this nine times, since graduating in the top tier of her class at Smith College, which, of course, is one of the finest institutions of higher education extant. She had one slot left for her tenth entering class and I prevailed upon her to accept Clementine." Royce ran out of steam about the same time he ran out of words lauding the Ames Academy. "Whew!" He exclaimed. "You know, that second lick of moonshine, on top of the mineral soak and my pack ride in, has hit me full force. Would you folks mind if I excused myself? I think I want to find that COT!" He chuckled wryly and put his glass on the mantel.

"Nothin' to apologize for, Royce," Mitch acknowledged agreeably. "I get you. In fact, Sugar," he added, turning to Daphne and pecking her nose, "I reckon we ought to turn in our own selves... You ready to snuggle with an old man?" He laughed low in his throat.

"Anytime at all, Daddy," Daphne replied, working on one of his shirt buttons, "You KNOW that." She got up from the chair and stepped over to Royce. "The tack room is just inside the lean-to on the right as you enter," she said, placing her hands on Engel's shoulders and squeezing in firmly. "Take a lantern and if we don't see you before breakfast I'll send Clemmy out to make sure you are..." she dropped her voice and mouthed the last word, "...UP." With a wink and another squeeze, she added, "Thanks for everythin' you have done for us, Royce," then, turning around to Mitch she said, "C'mon, Daddy, let's get you to bed."

Without ceremony, Daphne stuck out her hand and led her father from the Big Room, up another passageway, through another hewn oak door, into another natural cavern chamber. This room, though underground, breached the mountain's side at several points. Mitch had not only reinforced and redirected the vents, admitting external air flow without sacrificing elemental protection, he had also cleverly enlarged and engineered an existing natural adit and created a log and plank gable with a functioning mullioned window. The result was a master bedroom with morning light, fresh air, and needs be, an emergency escape route.

Daphne hung the lantern on its hook by the door while Mitch stoked the fire he maintained in the small pot-belly stove which constantly battled the cool temperatures in the subterrane. Even in July and August, life beneath a mountain at 9,000 feet elevation was far from a tropical paradise. The stoves, hearths and hot springs were necessary life support. For the second time since supper the McFees stripped. Daphne hung her full-length shirt-front dress in the wardrobe, while Mitch laid his jeans and shirt across the back of a straight chair near the massive oak bedframe. Hastily, each hopped and slid naked beneath flannel sheets, wool blankets and the cured hides of two black bears Mitch had surprised years ago.

Daphne cuddled close to Mitch and briskly rubbed his arms while he reciprocated along her spine and over her bottom. Quite soon they were toasty and smiling, which led to less essential hugging, and then prolonged, increasingly passionate kisses. "Daddy," Daphne breathed during an inactive interval, "I am SO happy our plan, your legacy, for Clemmy is working out." She pushed her right hand slowly along her father's thigh from behind his knee to his butt cheeks and back as they faced each other. "But I think we need to ADD to our FAMILY."

Mitch was taken aback. Daphne had never once, since Clementine's birth, expressed any desire for another child. Was she hinting at inviting Royce to stay behind and marry Clementine, instead of follow through with their plan? He frowned in the flickering light. "Really?" He asked, moving his left hand, from its resting spot on Daphne's tailbone, up to the nape of her neck and then into her shoulder-length sandy hair. He massaged her scalp as she continued to stroke his leg.

"Yes," She answered, staring seriously into Mitch's steely gray eyes. "I'm 37 years old, but you're 61..." She raised her hand from Mitch's leg to his weathered cheek and touched him tenderly. "You work so hard, do so much... I want a SON to help us in our old age... to take over after you are gone..."

Mitch saw a glistening tear well up in Daphne's eye, break loose and roll slowly over her cheek. His heart stirred and so did his cock. She felt him swell against the top of her knee which was parked in his crotch. She smiled and continued, "We could start right away... My Clemmy is such a greedy little girl who can't seem to get enough of her Poppa, lately... did she leave ANY of YOU for ME?" Daphne moved her hand from Mitch's thigh, straightening her bent right leg as she found, and petted, his growing dick.

Mitch chuckled quietly. "She's not a little girl anymore, Sugar," he said softly, "But I imagine I can find a little something for you... that is, if Royce didn't completely tucker YOU out." He tried not to sound jealous but he was relieved that Daphne was clearly not talking about replacing him on a permanent basis.

Daphne rolled onto her back and giggled. "He was so sweet, Daddy! I declare, at first, I thought he had never been with a woman, but if that is true, he was a real quick study" She paused, while Mitch crouched over her hips, then went on, "But, I'm bright red on the Baby Board and I didn't allow him to fuck me proper, Daddy... I don't want his child. I want YOUR SON! Oh, Daddy, I'm SO NEEDY now, TAKE me... give me a baby! Give me a SON!"

By now, Daphne's sweet talk had hardened Mitch and he felt her hands urgently guiding him to her as she spread beneath him. He heard her desperation and sensed that she knew, or believed, she was ripe. His cock followed her lead under the covers and happily nosed along her wet open gash from bottom to top and back, slipping ever deeper between her waiting folds. Daphne moved her hands from his fully engorged cock and cupped his ass. He drove forward and filled her cunt. She welcomed his present with a long soft sigh and twitched her kegel muscles. Mitch edged forward and drew back, then thrust further and held, while her cunt collapsed around his cock.

Quickly, the lovers found an easy rhythm and rocked each other's cradles forward and back. In and out. Mitch grunted and groaned as he plunged and retreated. Daphne moaned and hummed, swiveling her pelvis while her pussy worked to milk her man. She built her fulfillment in steady layers until it toppled. She came, panting and bucking.

Mitch did not even try to hold back. He had pumped such a load into Clementine that his sole focus was to rouse his reserves. He increased the vigor of his pushes when Daphne's orgasm began and willed himself to stand and deliver. At last, he felt his nuts rally. Tension mounted within him and he knew he could shoot again. He lunged a final time, deep in her channel, and emptied himself with a victorious cry of relief. Daphne clamped her legs in a scissors about Mitch's waist, clutching him tight and contracting hard upon him with every fiber as she delighted in his scream and felt his cock flex and hop, spurting its life-giving seed into her most fertile garden.

It was not their longest, nor even their most passionate fuck, but both Mitch and Daphne felt more sensually and spiritually satisfied than they had for a long time. He fell forward and kissed his daughter deeply as he rested his hard chest upon her full soft bosom and kept his hard dick buried in her softly sucking cunt. She rubbed his back and cooed through his teeth. When their breathing normalized, and his cock fell out, they parted and flopped, holding hands, as they lay spread-eagle with overlapping legs under the bedding.

"Oh Daddy! Oh Daddy! Oh Daddy!" Daphne repeated deliriously, staring up through the amber aura of the lantern's light to the black rock ceiling high over them. "I think we did it... I'm SURE we did it... Oh, I HOPE we did it!"

Mitch laughed, oddly giddy for an old crusty miner. "Well, Sugar," he said in a low voice, "It's not like it was now or never... tomorrow's another day. How long are you in the Red Zone, anyway?"

"Today and tomorrow are 14 and 15." She rose on her right side and drew her hand down Mitch's chest and patted his tight gut. "Good night, Daddy," She kissed him gently and curled up against his hard body. "Gonna get you in the morning..." she added before her voice trailed off and she fell asleep.

*

As Daphne pulled Mitch by the hand out of his chair and led him from the Big Room, Royce Engel grabbed a lantern and stepped through the cabin's front door onto the porch. He unstrapped his bedroll and, leaving the rest of his pack on the saw-horse, walked into the warm summer night toward the McFee lean-to. The waning last quarter moon, in the dark cloudless starry sky, lit up the clearing nearly as bright as if it were daytime. The air was stimulating and he had never felt more alive. He did not know whether his refreshed senses were the product of the mountain, the isolation, the complete quiet, or the surprising hot spring, but, whatever its source, he welcomed it.

Royce found the tack room with no difficulty. After tossing his blankets onto the narrow bed, he extinguished the lantern and lay down. His thoughts drifted over the day's highlights: Watching Clementine's inverted nipples brush against her shift, seeing her full form revealed at the pools and pounding his meat into Daphne's twerking ass until they both screamed bloody murder. He touched himself but was disappointed by his prick's lack of response. Royce sighed and fell asleep smelling leather harness work, remembering Daphne's final words and imagining the morrow.