Figurehead

My daddy was a self described “Nautical Nerd,” so during the lockdown, he got into woodworking, and kinda got me into Bondage.

I’magine, first momma posed to model for the figurehead. That’s the statue under the prow, but she couldn’t hold that position very long. So, I offered to get up there, and pose for it so daddy could finish sculpting the bust.

Momma had to sew me a dress in my size, only without the actual bust. Because she had a whole mess of kids, boys and girls, but we stopped nursing. So they shrunk a little, and wrinkled up without the milk. I was just barely starting puberty, so all I had were nipples a little darker than the rest of my pale chest.

I thought about suntanning topless, to make them match again, but I was a little worried about them getting darker, or worse. Sunburnt, but also there was the problem of where I could do it topless without the neighbor boys seeing me over the fence.

Not that I would mind, especially Dwight. Dwight Wright, not only did he have a rhyming name, but also in alphabetical order. The Wrights had a lots of boys, first Abel, then Brooke, Caleb, and finally Dwight. He was the youngest boy (The baby was named Eve…) but a couple years older then me, and since I was the youngest in my family, he liked to talk to me over the fence.

Sometimes, he even stopped playing Pirates with my brothers to come talk to me instead, so I knew he was sweet on me, but I had to close my eyes. Hanging up under the bow, with a fan in my face so it blew my hair back, and the only thing I could hear over the fan was my daddy’s dremel.

That’s like a dentist drill, only he had lots of tools he could chuck in, and carve, or polish my hair. The problem is, it whipped around in the wind, and my eyes dried out, so I closed them. I had to imagine the salty sea water splashing up on my face, but that turned me on.

Not just imagining the salty spray on my face, but also the foam swirling around in the waves, and how hot I look up here. I used to hold onto the cargo straps, until they cut into my fingers, so then he started strapping them over my wrists. Another strap under my tummy, cinched tight so it was like a belt between my hips and ribs.

It was hard to breathe like that, but it also reminded me of Jesus crucified, and how good he looked up there in church. I guess that was my first crush, because of course my dad made him look beautiful. Perfect, with a nice muscular chest stretched out, and tight abs. The only thing that really ruined the perfection, I guess the fatal flaw was the wound in the side, and the blood painted on to drip down.

“DADDY! Let me down.” I had to yell over the dremel so he’d stop, and let me have a break. I had to look down to stand on the step stool while he loosened the belt around my waist, but I could pull my hands out easily. “Huh!” Finally breathe, but when I looked up, Dwight was right there. Standing at the fence, and watching me get carved.

I ran off to get my undies down, and my fingers wet in the bathroom. Remembering Dwight in his tight jeans, and the bulge of his boner looking at me. His eyes on me, and the hot air blowing in the bar doors from outside. It made me sweaty, and the cotton dress mom sewed out of old sheets cling to my body, as if it was sea water.

“Huh! Uhn!” I just scooted out on the toilet, and put my head back on the tank. Slipping my fingers out of my wet puss, and rubbing them up to slick over my twitching clit hood. “Huh! Huh! Huh!” That made me hunch, and gasp with pleasure, but that only extended the orgasm a little while longer. It didn’t touch off another one this time, but that had worked before.

So, I flushed the toilet (As if I used it for anything but a seat,) washed my hands, and took off my underwear to go back out. Dwight was gone, I bet to play with himself remembering how hot, sexy, and beautiful I was up there, so I let daddy strap me up to carve my hair some more, until he came back.

Dwight, I guess another good thing about being the youngest is he wasn’t out working the fields like his older brothers, and sister. My sisters were all like Brooke, country girls. I guess you city slickers would call them “Tomboys,” but they aren’t. We only had 2 boys old enough to work out in the fields, and 3 girls. So, the other 2 wore overalls, and flannel shirts with the sleeves cut off. Work boots, and trucker hats to keep the sun off their faces. Long hair stuck to their sweaty necks so they didn’t turn red from getting sunburnt day in, and day out of driving tractors, and such.

That left mom to keep up the house, and my daddy wasted all his time, working on his sea stuff. First it was collecting ships in bottles, until he learnt how to make his own through the mouth of a gallon jug. Then, he started boat building, and carving with a chainsaw for the county fair. A little extra money on the side, and now he was building his own boat for the trout tank, only modeled after a full size pirate ship, with 2 masts, and everything.

That ment he needed a figurehead, and mom’s back couldn’t take hanging in that position for days, so she made me a dress that fit me, and I took over being a model. It sure was sexy, hot and sexy, especially with Dwight hanging out all day to watch. I guess he didn’t have anything better to do, but it sure made the days fly by until the sun set, my brothers and sisters came home for dinner, and we got ready for bed.

;

‘Deen (fm)

I got up, and went to the bathroom to pee. That’s where I saw the light on in the barn, through the bathroom window. So, I put on some slippers, and went to find him in there, with the bust.

I have to say that it’s mom’s bust. She has the bosoms to fill it out, while I still had my youth, and long flowing waves of hair for daddy to sculpt. So, I caught Dwight with his pants up, but his hands all over mom’s bust.

It’s headless, of course. Because my head won’t go on it, with the hair hanging off, so it tips over on the stand, so he had that up on a workbench. He left the door cracked, enough to slip through sideways, but I kicked off my slippers in the sawdust.

He let go of one of the wooden breasts, to rub his crotch, and I wondered how long he’d been out there. Especially when I got around to the side, and saw the wet spots already run down the unpainted wood.

“Huh, yeah.” He rubbed one of the nipples with his thumb, through the wooden folds of the dress, and unzipped his fly again. That was a fresh load, he’d already jerked off once, then zipped his pants back up to fondle it some more, and get it up again.

He wasn’t hard when it flopped out, but it did look chubby. I licked my lips, starting to shiver with a cold sweat, and goosebumps popping out under my nighty like a million tiny nipples. He pinched it, and squeezed it out to the end. So, the head swelled up, pink then dark red with blood. Finally, he got hard, and started running his fingers up and down.

Pinching it with 2 fingers, and his thumb. He was 13, I remember the boys going over to his birthday party, and telling me what he got. A little hair on it, but no foreskin, and while he was probably long enough to grip it in his fist, that wouldn’t leave much room for him to stroke.

Now, I grew up with brothers, and porn on the internet. I prefer stories, but yeah I know the ones about what happens when a little sister catches her brothers jerking off to porn on the computer. (Magazines, tapes in the VCR, DVDs, or smart phones. This is an old story, so it probably goes way back to before the photograph was invented.)

We’re country, but we’re not that country. So, get any thoughts of inbreeding out of your damned fool heads. I seen them, the Amish do that, and you know how there women are all chinless with frog eyes, and such? Yeah, inbreeding, and no daughter of mine is gonna come out looking all Amish, so go ahead and forget all that.

I just stood there, licking my lips, and watching him. Glancing back and forth, between his fingers stroking his boner, and the white streaks starting to dry on my momma’s bust. Until finally, I couldn’t stand it no more, and narrowed down what I was going to say:

“That for me?”

“Huh, Nadie?” He turned, and tried to stuff it back in his tight jeans, but I grabbed his buns as soon as he turned around.

“Huh, if you’d rather be left alone with my momma’s bust?” I let go to feel around, and find the bulge to rub through his fly.

“No, you can stay.” He shook his head.

“Well, turn around, and kiss me like a man, then.” I let my hair fall back, over my shoulders, and closed my eyes to feel his lips finally touch mine. My hands were busy, unzipping his fly, and pinching the metal button to push through the slot.

“Smooch, how’sat?”

“I bit my lip, and went down. Pulling his waistband out, and pinching it with my other hand to kiss it. Lick it, and feel his fingers comb through my hair.

“Oh, Nadie.”

“Smuip! Deen, can you call me Deen?”

“Okay, just suck it some more. Uh!” He humped, and tried to pump it in and out of my lips, so I had to hang on, and he had to push it back down with his thumb when it slipped out.

“Hold still, let me.” He just nodded, and I closed my eyes when it slipped back in my mouth.

“Oh, Deen! Oh god, your moth is so hot, and wet.”

“Mhm!” I licked it, then swirled my tongue around.

“Lick it, lick it again, just like you did first.” So, I pushed it up on the roof of my mouth, and rubbed the underside. “Huh, fuck you suck it so good. Please.” I shook my head, but then he hissed. “Pleasssse!”

“Omph!” My cheeks puffed out, and the first shot ran down the corners of my mouth, so I made an O and sealed it better. To catch the rest of the hot wet clashes on my tongue, and rub another one swallowing. Gulping it down hungrily, even though it didn’t taste like I thought it might.

I heard salty, or read it (On Reddit, among other places.) That would have been nice, because the sweat, and of course the sea spray I always imagined splashing on my face would be salty. I never even seen the ocean, since we live smack dab in the middle of the country. We can’t leave the farm to it’s own devices to run off on vacation, and how much would that cost.

“Oh!” He finally slipped out, dribbling, and wasting more of that precious fluid, but than I saw that it was clear. Runny, and a tiny string snapped off when it fell in the powdery sawdust. I guess I could even imagine it was sand, like a beach, but that reminded me that he left more on the front of the wooden bust.

“Lnh!” I licked that up, and tasted it. “Huhl!” That’s more like it! I guess he wasted the really tangy, sticky white wad on the first load, before I caught him at it.

“You really like my jism?”

“Yeah,” I wiped the corners of my mouth, to suck that drool of my fingers, but he’d tucked it back in his pants. “Too bad you wasted the good stuff, because you couldn’t wait.”

“Well, I didn’t know whether or not, you’d.” he shook his head, and looked away. “Even like me.”

“Why not? You’re a good lookin’ fella, whoever told you otherwise was lying.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so, my favorite. I’m sure you still got some growin’ to do, and I can look forward to that, but I hope you never outgrow your pretty face, and your eyes.”

He smiled, looking down on me, then closed them. Turning his head, so i closed my eyes too, and opened my mouth for him to lick it out.

“Smwuck?” He smacked his lips, and looked up. “Hm,” he licked his lips. “It’s not as bad as i thought.”

“Your cum?”

“Yeah, I see why you like it so much.”

“Well,” I patted his crotch. “Save it for tomorrow.”

“Really? I can get it up again, if you don’t wanna wait.”

“You can?”

“Yeah, usually. I get at least 3 good ones a night, sometimes even more.”

“Well,” I thought about it. “No, you better go give your balls a rest, so you can have a nice big wad of the good stuff tomorrow night.”

“Okay,’ he left me there, to get my fingers wet, and look around at all the possibilites in the barn. The old barn, dad had gotten one of those prefab metal ones for storing the hay, and straw in. There ain’t know way he could nail me up under the bow, like Jesus on a cross. We got plenty of cargo straps, from my daddy strapping the hull together while the wood glue set between the boards.

So, that ment plenty to tie me down to that barrel over there. Maybe hang from that winch up in the rafters, so he can lift me up with the comealong. The posts holding up the old hay loft, and the workbench to bend me over. Pound my from behind with my body, and face in the fine powdery pine sawdust. So, I did that, with my fingers stuck in me instead of his cock, but Nadine Wright.

I liked the sound of that, and the idea of my tits getting bigger, to feed a whole mess of kids when I’m old enough to bear them without miscarrying.

“Uh AH FUCK ME DWIGHT! YEAH FUCK ME! Yeah fuckme fuckme fuckme!”

“Please.” He said. “Please,” right before he shot his baby batter right in my mouth.

“Huh, yeah.”

I aim to please him.

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