WicKed Fulfills a Farm Boy's Dream!

"Thank me, for what?" Kitten whispered right back, while trying not to let on that she had deliberately dropped the straws, in order to give him some eye candy.

"For, for asking if I was all right. Thank you! You have a mighty -- nice outfit," Jack responded appreciatively, as he handed her the straws. His grin grew a bit wider, as he replaced his dirt-encrusted, John Deere Tractor hat onto his head with his other hand. Kitten gave him another refreshing smile, for his gentlemanly assistance with the straws. John Deere ate that innocent-looking smile up; as though it came with an extra order of fries and honey-infused ketchup. It was readily apparent, from Kitten's grin, that she enjoyed toying with the weak-kneed farm boy.

He stood watching us, as I paid for the shakes. Then, Jack Fletcher walked behind us, out the doorway. Kitten put on a performance for him--with lots of ass movement; doing her best, brazen, teen-model, runway walk across the parking lot to the car.

Getting back behind the wheel and bucking up, Kitten glanced over catching me staring at her with amazement.

"What?" she grinned, as that teen inflection drawled, between pursed lips. She knew damned well what I was thinking. She'd been thinking the same thing.

"What, indeed!" I muttered.

"Daddy, he just looked so forlorn; sitting there staring at those Angus. God knows he must not have any excitement out here in all this corn. I just thought, I'd add a little spice to his day. Was that so wrong?"

Glancing back toward John Deere, she waved a curt goodbye, and started the car. Jack's return banner wave and giant smile, I thought, should be on a billboard advertisement for this place. He looked happier than a puppy getting his tummy rubbed.

"So... wicked,"I sighed,"so wicked."

"At least, he'll have something to think about while he's stroking his cock tonight, Daddy!" Kitten chortled, thinking about what her fiendish actions may be setting into motion.

"So wicked, girl!" I found myself repeating the phrase, and laughing at her response as we cruised down the road toward the Johnson farmstead. Surely, Jack Fletcher may well be thinking about Kitten tonight and perhaps many more nights, unless he gets fucked soon. I just knew if that happened to me at his age -- well I would be blowing through a new box of tissues that night for sure.

After a few more minutes of quiet driving, Kitten's reflective voice mused, "Daddy, I'm thinking about getting a tattoo, just a little one. Maybe words only..."

"When it rains, it pours," I muttered under my breath. "What words, and just where would you put this tattoo?"

"I'm liking what you said back at the diner, Daddy."

"Keep the change?" I responded, trying to act light hearted. Those are the only words I said while inside and that's when I paid John Deere's mother for the shakes.

Giggling she replied, "Daddy! No, when you said,"So... wicked."

She paused for a few seconds, as though she was tossing around the words in her head, to see the images appearing on her body.

"Centered right over my pussy lips... just below my bikini line," she continued, and breathed out the words, slowly. I can just see her mind typing the tattoo keystrokes as she imagined how it might look.

"I'd make it with a capital W and a capital K for emphasis.

'So... WicKed '

Maybe, get it all in italic handwriting? And...perhaps with scarlet-red ink. The color of love and... passion."

Kitten's mind was on a roll, as the images played through her mind of what the script would look like.

"So..." came her impatient query; after I was stunned into silence and remained unresponsive while picturing that tattoo. It might as well have been branded over her slit...because it sure as hell was seared into my mind--like the branded 'A' for adultery, on women's chests, eons ago!

"Kitten, you're eighteen and..." I stammered, looking for a way to end this conversation. "You said, you would make your own decisions. You're an adult. It's up to you."

I was not about to let her know that, that tattoo image had burned its lurid self into my brain forever, and also sent a tingle to my groin, as well. I could see the image emblazoned on her tan tummy beckoning, wantonly, as her vagina called out the phrase to me, "So... WicKed wants you, Daddy. Come fuck me!"

My dick stirred. I tried not to let the vagina's conversation give rise to it. Where was that ice chest, with the cold water, when I needed it?

___________

Meeting Marie Johnson

"Next left." I motioned to Kitten as we approached a newly-paved road. Civilization seems to be coming to the rural roads of corn country. Gone was the old dusty roadway where I remembered hearing the crunch of Marie's bike tires as she rode up the gravel road to the farmstead. Four more miles to go before facing the music, I thought to myself.

Kitten's long drive out from the city was nearly flawless; if you don't count that one unprecedented pitstop in between two cornfields--for ten minutes of totally unplanned sex. I guided her to the turn-in to the old farmstead. She coasted slowly up the driveway, shifted into park, and killed the engine. It allowed the unique sounds of the country to seep into the car. The quietness permeated our bones. We sat without speaking, basking in the serenity of my step-cousin's home. I'd become so accustomed to the city noises. This was such a radical change--this is, as life should be; the absence of extraneous sounds overwhelming the quiet symphony of nature.

Slowly, I stepped out to survey the place. At first glance, little of how I remembered it remained. The barn was so different. It is now clad in metal and metal doors have replaced the old-heavy wooden sliders. The new, metal roof shines brightly against the sky. Gone, is the old-wooden toolshed. In its place is a new, larger, steel structure. Also new is the two-car garage sitting just to the back and left of the farmhouse. Glancing behind me, I took in the farmhouse itself. I was relieved to see that nothing seemed to have changed it, except for new paint. It looked exactly the way it has always stood for nearly two centuries.

Kitten skirted the driver's side and came to nestle against me as I let the memories of this place refresh the dim gaps in my recollections. Her arm wrapped around my waist. I hugged her back. I swear, I could almost see two familiar girls standing in the barn door; but they disappeared as I blinked. Ghosts of paramour lovers making out in the barn loft, I thought.

The banging of a screen door, shattered my thoughts. That familiar, somewhat-softened eighteen-year-old voice from long ago calls out, "Hello Ray! It's nice to see you again, Katrina. Come up on the porch and sit awhile. I have some fresh lemonade and blackberry pie."

__________

A Plaintive Plea for Help

"Katrina! Come sit by me," Marie patted an empty cushion next to her, indicating for Kitten to take the empty spot on the well-worn porch swing. I took the corner rocker, rather than my old spot on the porch steps. From there, I used to watch Marie's legs swinging back and forth; sometimes catching a glimpse a bit further up her shorts. I'd grown up, now, I thought. Today, I hadn't come for titillation. It was for something much more profound.

"Lord, how you've grown! Look at you! So much like your mother! The last time I saw you... you were about five or six, as I recall. Y'all came for my grandma's funeral and stayed awhile."

Marie's southern sounds spilled out, as she reached to touch Kitten's hair and ruffled it like she was a kid again. It was delightful to hear Marie fall back into her familiar, southern-dialectical tones, rather than the formal, Dr. Marie Johnson, vocabulary; she presented that side of her to the world at large.

"Daddy thinks I look just like Mom when she was my age!"

"Yes, sugar! You surely, do... you surely do, baby."

This was an old familiar scene that has played out for decades on this porch. Generations had sat here on swings like this one; eating pie, and drinking lemonade, as children scurried about the yard chasing chickens or playing baseball. The sense of serenity had cast it spell over the three of us. Neither Marie, Kitten, nor I were in a hurry to speak substantively, as we savored Marie's homemade blackberry pie. Time seemed to have wound down; like the last few ticks of an old clock. It was only the movements of forks, and glasses of lemonade rising to our lips that indicated time was actually advancing. Yet, someone had to start...

"So,..." I began, opting to break the ice. Immediately, it brought laughter lines to Marie's face. All this time, and she still remembered the opening line she and her grandmother were fond of using to extract information out of a victim. It's amazing how just a few words can cue memories in one's mind of long-gone circumstances.

"So,..." Marie smiled in response, with a sense of contrition, "it has been way too long and I'm sorry that I have been so out of touch with you, with all y'all. I had long talks with my Grandma about us before she passed, you know, Ray." Pausing, Marie stopped to fill Kitten in about her grandma's background as a doctor as well.

"Your mom and I were joined at the hip for a few years before your dad came along. It took me a couple of years of getting used to him, but your mom and I finally reeled him in forming our gang of three. Your mom found him very attractive, so much so, that our gang became the two of them plus me as a tag-a-long, so to speak. Then they went off, got married, and had you! Made them a cute, new baby girl! Bet there's a bunch of guys out there thinking more like gorgeous, anyway!"

"So, you, mom, and dad were a 'thing' when you were young?" Katrina asked, arching her eyebrows. Marie looked at me for clues and I nodded acknowledging that Katrina knew.

"Yes," Marie's softly-spoken response acknowledged, as she took measured observations of Katrina's appearance.

"Looking at you reminds me of your mom and myself at your age. Rebellious, braless, and short on panties was how we behaved and dressed in those days. We let our inhibitions run wild, your mother and I. We were fearless and gave no credence to our societal norms. We thought we knew everything and felt we could bend the world to the shape we wanted it to be."

Marie, paused to let what she was telling Katrina sink in, before she continued. "In fact, we initiated your dad right on this farm, over there in the barn," she motioned with her hand, "and down by the lake. I thought, then, that I was helping your mom see if she liked men -- as much as she loved me. I chose your dad for her, without thinking about the impact that it would have on him or others. It took Dr. Grandma a long time to untangle our messed-up precepts. I thought we had overcome the Pandora's box I opened, but here we are now, once again."

I could feel the angst setting in, as it crawled upon Marie's and my shoulders. It was biting into our marrow; hanging around our necks like an albatross. It had taken twenty-four years to come full circle, and now, we find ourselves facing the same uncertainties that began our sojourn with each other all those years ago. Silence seeped between the three of us, as the swing glided back and forth, allowing Kitten time to absorb Marie's revelations.

"So... Ray Schumacher," leaning back in the swing, Marie quietly asked, "are you here to see me as cousin, Marie--or as Dr. Marie Johnson?"

Hesitantly, quietly I responded, "As Dr. Johnson." A moribund silence fell between us, as I let out a deep sigh.

Kitten's face took on a puzzled look, as I responded with the words--Doctor Johnson. Then, I saw panic setting in. She bolted upright in the swing; halting the gently swinging motion.

"Daddy! You're not sick! Sick like Mommy, are you, Daddy?" Her voice raised several octaves, as panic grabbed her petite frame, with a shudder. I jumped forward in my chair, taking her hand.

"No, Kitten! I'm fine. Really, I'm not sick like Mom," I answered, attempting to calm the fear flooding through her.

"People seek help from doctors for other reasons than being physically ill, sometimes it's emotional concerns, Kitten. Marie is a specialist in these things, a psychiatrist... the things we are experiencing."

I turned to face Marie again. Inhaling, I just spat it out. "I've fucked up, Marie!"

A lump had swollen up in my throat and my eyes blurred as tears welled up. My trembling voice bared my soul to her. Details about Kitten's pact with Katelyn came pouring out, along with my relationship with Kitten. I divulged our incest acts and how wrong I felt, and how good I felt as I fucked Katrina through all of them. Kitten sat quietly, and somberly took in what I had to say. I detected its effect as her shoulders slumped and her facial expression turned blank; seeming to hang like a millstone on her as well.

Marie's blue eyes glistened, short of tears. I can see how it was pulling at her heartstrings, dredging up past recollections of Katelyn. It's also revived things that Katelyn filled me in on that occurred between them. About how their relationship nearly turned tragic; although Kate would never give me any details of what transpired between them. It was Dr. Grandma Johnson that was able to bridge that relationship and re-set the dark path both girls were pursuing.

This tumultuous day has been brewing for the last four weeks. I've come today asking for Marie's help in staving off that path between my daughter and I before we journeyed deeper down this dark trail. I am hoping that Marie's experience and her conquering of her fears, with the help of her grandmother's psychiatric background, would prevail in our situation, as well. Marie became a psychiatrist precisely because of her past and the help provided by Dr. Grandma. I wanted that help for Kitten and myself, as well. I knew Marie has come to grips with her lifestyle. I also knew that it was more of a struggle for Katelyn, who never actually managed to make the adjustments that Marie has made.

"Please, Marie. Help Katrina. Help me. I can't live this over again!" I pleaded for her help.

Despite her attempt to remain dispassionate, Marie's watery eyes brimmed over and the tears rolled down her cheeks, as well. Both of us sat blubbering, in front of Kitten, while she sat, as if frozen in a block of ice, beside us. Marie took my hands into hers and softly replied, "Stay with me for a few days and we will, all, talk this through and find a resolution, together."

Turning to Kitten, Marie asked, "Talk to me, Katrina. Tell me how you are feeling about what your Dad is telling us?"

Kitten remained mute and her stone-like posture spoke volumes about how she felt. It took a while, but I could see her shaken demeanor beginning to melt away. She seemed immersed in studying the gray-painted, wooden deck beneath the swing. Slowly, her inclined head tipped upward to gaze at Marie. Her shoulders squared. A look of self-assurance seemingly transformed Kitten.

"Daddy, I think I know why Mom made me wait until my eighteenth birthday." Her soft-spoken words flowed across the porch toward me and jabbed me in the heart. Her response wasn't tearful, just factual; analytical.

"You and Marie were eighteen and Mom was nineteen when you guys made your decisions. I think Mom knew I needed to make my choice as an adult, as well. If I had made my choice before then, both of you would be thinking, right now, that I did so as a child. A child unable to discern right from wrong." Kitten paused, formulating her next thoughts, before she continued.

"Marie, I'm certainly not as experienced as you and Dad, but I made my choice without pressure from Dad, or even from Mom. I truly wanted this. All through school no one ever prepared me for this sexual metamorphosis. With Dad, I feel completely safe to explore my sexuality. I know that fucking is an intense intimate act. It opens me up to another person with all my insecurities exposed. But, being with Daddy is so secure! Daddy protects me and he accepts me as I am. I don't think I'm ready to fuck someone that could crush me and take advantage of my vulnerabilities."

"Besides, I gave Mom my word that I would forever take care of Daddy in every way, Marie. And I always keep my promises!" Kitten was emphatic as she firmly spoke to Marie with all the conviction of her heart.

"Marie, Mom told me that she thought you were holding back from expressing your own love, your love for Dad. She said that you did that out of loyalty to her. I think that you gave up Ray Schumacher, even as you were growing closer to loving him, yourself."

Breathing heavily, Kitten drew out Marie. "While all of us are in the confession stage, tell me, Marie, isn't that true?"

Marie's voice wavered at Kitten's astute declaration; finding the question and answering routines she is so accustomed to, have been reversed. For the first time, she is facing what she has kept locked away. I watched, as Marie wiped away a stream of tears that suddenly appeared and cascaded down her flushed cheeks. Never had I seen her cry, not even at a wedding or a funeral. Tears were just not in Marie Johnson's bag of doctor tools.

"Yes. But Kitten, I wanted what was best for your mom, too! I was too messed up then, to admit I might be in love with your Daddy, as well as with Katelyn. I wasn't ready to deal with men, when I was eighteen or even older, for years. Your mom was the right choice."

I listened to my daughter's astute observations and watched as she grew up right before my eyes. I think I have always had an inkling of how Marie truly felt, but I suppressed it, pushing it into the far recesses of my mind. I am struck, now, at how I could have missed Marie's true feelings.

"Marie, Mom is gone, now," Kitten whispered, as she lifted the hem of her top, exposing a well-tanned breast, to dry away Marie's tears. I watched the pear-shaped orb slide into view. But my cock and my thoughts failed to react as I normally would. The impact and clarity of Kitten's statements and how complicated the intertwining of our lives had become, was thundering in my temples.

"Daddy, you and Marie need to fix this, and soon," Kitten whispered. Her eyes moistened as she looked to me, as she cradled Marie's head on her shoulder.

"I know, baby. I promise, we will."

__________

Three to a Bed

Friday night drew to an exhausting close. We ate a late farmstead-grilled hamburger dinner and turned in early. It had been an afternoon of frank conversation among the three of us. Marie's laser-focused mind led us through the twists and turns, after her watershed of tears had a chance to percolate away, into the homestead landscape. Without even a question of bedroom decisions, Kitten and I followed into Marie's room for the night. Rest, I thought. But, impetuous 'So... WicKed' had no thoughts of sleep for Marie or myself. She had listened to Marie's recounting of some of her adventures before she and Katelyn met me. Kitten was in for the adventure aspect.

I found it a bit embarrassing, when Marie recounted to Kitten how she had shared our wedding night bed, aboard a Mississippi River paddle boat. Granted, we had shared many nights before our marriage together, the three of us, but to regale her with what should have been an intimate evening between husband and wife; well, that was more than I expected.

Marie didn't spare the details. I think she enjoyed my embarrassment as she described how Katelyn mounted my cock while she rode my face to a frenzied climax. Then turned that about; switching places for another round of pleasurable face and cock riding.