I had been at my new job for probably three months when Rusty Butt, my former coworker called. I noticed he used the toll free number rather than our local directory number.
He informed me that a really cute blonde had been around looking for me, saying she was knocked up. His description sounded a lot like Leslie and I prayed the ignorant asswipe hadn’t told her where I was. Especially if she was pregnant.
He said he had lied, told her he thought I might have gone up to Nashville, Tennessee. I thanked him and got off the phone; those 1 800 calls ain’t cheap.
Wasn’t even a month later and Rusty Butt called again. Yes, on the toll-free number. Cheap fucker. This time he was telling me about Juanita and Wilma coming in, looking for me. He asked if it was all right with me if he went out with Wilma; she was cute.
I told him I didn’t care if he did both Juanita and Wilma at the same time then put up a billboard on I-20 for the world to see. I didn’t have claim to either one of them girls. Because I didn’t like him, I didn’t tell Rusty Butt don’t be kissing either one them girls; they had no problem sticking their tongues up each other’s poop chutes.
Then Rusty Butt told me that the Leslie girl had been by again, still looking for me. Thankfully, I had never given her my name, and Rusty said he said he’d only known me as ‘Trey’ but that could have been short for anything.
I immediately informed my boss and everyone else that I wanted them to just call me Scott from here on out. That, after all, was my given name. Since I was the third Scott in our family and my grandfather had been Scott and my dad had been ‘Chester’ which was a shortening of our last name, I had been called Trey. But my grandfather had been dead these last five years and had lived in Alabama anyway, I was now to be called Scott.
(As in, scot-free. I hoped.)
I was good at my job; I even saw where a local lumberyard had been marking forty eight cents per board foot, but charging us fifty eight cents a board foot. Ten cents don’t sound like much, until you realize we’re looking at thousands of board feet. Doing a little digging through the filing cabinets, I seen where they been doing this to us for the last nine years. Now we’re talking not hundreds of dollars, we’re talking tens of thousands of dollars.
When the news broke, other businesses looked into it and seen where they’d been getting screwed as well. It went state-wide and suddenly I was a bit of a celebrity. Until I told the reporters that I was seriously sad for all them mother fuckers ain’t learned counting in school. But I guessed that was Georgia’s education for you. That pissed them off enough they left me alone. No one likes anyone points out their education system sucks.
About eighteen years after all that, I was sitting in my office on my new computer. I had liked Windows 98 just fine, but for whatever yalova escort reason, my boss wanted me to start using an Apple computer. To me, this new computer system just didn’t make any sense. So I was already in a pizzy mood when this really cute blonde stepped into my office and asked if I was Scott Chesterfield.
“Yeah? Why?” I snapped, glancing up at this girl.
“Used live in Stone Mountain?” she pressed.
If I hadn’t been so frustrated, I would have realized who it was and would have lied my ass off. Instead, I agreed I was Scott ‘Trey’ Chesterfield and had lived in Stone Mountain, probably about eighteen, nineteen years ago.
“I’m Leslie Hill’s daughter?” the girl said. “Tiffany Hill?”
“Good for you,” I said. “That and five bucks will get you a six pack of beer down at the Quick Trip.”
Suddenly I realized why she looked familiar and remembered who Leslie Hill was. She’d been the little Rod Stewart look alike that I’d fucked when she’d wanted a fifth of vodka. I tried not to break into a cold sweat.
“I, uh, I think I’m your daughter?” Tiffany supplied.
“And I think I’m the President,” I said, twirling my finger in the air.
She let me know her momma had died right before Tiffany’s eighteenth birthday; drunk as a skunk. Leslie apparently thought her car could drive through a train. I did tell Tiffany I was sorry for her loss.
The girl asked me to please submit a sample of my saliva for a DNA test. She told me all I had to do was spit in a cup for her.
I told her to leave the cup and I would do it later; I was busy learning how to hate Apple. She wanted to argue with me but I pointed her ass to the door.
A minute later, Randy walked by. He’s this punk ass kid; always trying borrow money, yet always seems have plenty money for fucking cigarettes and shit. I won’t give him a penny; I don’t smoke and, you know what? You can’t afford pay your child support and shit? Then you don’t need to be smoking, do you?
I was pretty sure I’m Tiffany’s daddy. And, I don’t want to be no kid’s daddy, even if she is eighteen and cute as a bug. For five bucks, Randy spit in the cup. He then asked me about the really cute blonde he just seen leaving my office. I asked if he meant the girl that was trying get some money for her AIDS medicine. He looked kind of sick after that.
When I handed the cup to Tiffany, I demanded to know the results. I wanted to know if I had a daughter or not. She happily agreed and happily agreed to go out to dinner with me.
I took her to one of them crappy chain restaurants that serves crappy food and hires the lowest achievers to serve the crappy food. Tiffany seemed to like it and gave me a tight hug and nice kiss afterward. If I remember her momma right, she had itty bitty titties. Tiffany did have slightly larger titties, but still not big enough to need a bra. I could feel that she was wearing yalova escort bayan a bra, but really, she ought let them titties get some air; they might grow some then.
It was almost a month later that Tiffany called and let me know the test showed that I was not her daddy. She sounded pretty heartbroken about it so I offered to take her out to eat. She lived up in Duluth, Georgia which is not a short drive away. I told her to pick the restaurant and I’d be there tomorrow evening.
Atlanta traffic is a fucking nightmare. All I kept asking myself why I was doing this. By the time I found her shitty little apartment, I was ready kill someone.
The barbeque restaurant was a good one. The baby back ribs just about fell off the bone. The bones themselves had some good marrow in them. Their cole slaw was horrible though.
At her apartment, Tiffany offered me a drink. Just like her momma, Tiffany liked vodka. I about fell over when she put on an Aretha Franklin cd and actually sang along as she fixed our drinks. After the second drink, I took a chance and kissed her. She responded with enthusiasm. It didn’t take but a minute to get her out of her top and tiny bra. Those were so sweet little titties. Looked kind of like two tennis balls in a pink sock sitting on her skinny chest. Her nipples were light brown and just begged to be kissed.
Her honey pot had a little bit of light brown peach fuzz on it. She tasted sweet as I licked her. She let out this gasping kind of ‘hump-hump-hump’ right before she squealed in orgasm. Then I lined my cock up with her pussy and pushed in.
She swore she wasn’t cherry, but good God she was tight. It took me six strokes before I was balls deep in her twat. When I pushed in, she let out this little ‘hump’ sound. When I pulled out, her inner lips came out with me and she let out this ‘ah’ sound. Wasn’t too long and she started with that weird ‘hump-hump-hump’ sound and locked this skinny little legs around me.
I pumped a few ropes of baby makers into her pussy. I tried to keep from crushing her but that couch wasn’t really made for fucking. She pulled me tight against her sweet little body and kissed me. Then she wiggled out from under me and ran to the bathroom.
The second fuck was done with her riding me like a bronco buster. She squealed when I jammed a finger into her rosebud and told me that was exit only. I kept my finger in there, though and even managed to work a second finger into her backdoor before blowing my load into her box again.
In the morning, I called the toll-free number and let my supervisor know I was running a bit late. It was hard to keep my voice normal as Tiffany was trying to swallow my schlong down her throat. After I got off the phone, I began to finger her tight little ass. I told her, the next time I saw her, I was going to get into that cute little turd cutter of hers.
About three escort yalova months later, I was trying to figure out how to get up to Duluth to see Tiffany again. I’d had my balls drained a few times since then, but none of them had even come close to that hot little bitch. And just when I finished sending in my quarterly report to my supervisor, who should walk in but Tiffany.
“Guess what, Daddy?” Tiffany smiled, hand over her flat tummy.
“I give up. Oh, you ever find your daddy?” I asked, kissing her.
She said she had not found her daddy, but there was no doubt who was the daddy of the little bastard in her belly. I took her to another chain restaurant for a way too salty dinner then took her to my trailer and we celebrated.
I greased up two of my fingers with Vaseline and got her little ass ready for my log. I was shoving my two fingers in and out of her and Tiffany was doing that ‘hump-hump-hump’ thing and when I put the head of my greasy dick to her shitter, she let out this squeal and coated my balls with her cunt juice. Working my dick into her ass took longer than it had taken to work my dick into her pussy.
Whole time, all I heard was her telling me stop, it hurt and ‘hump-hump-hump’ and ‘oh God.’ She is her momma’s kid; she was made for ass fucking.
She moved in with me and did her best to drain my balls every morning and every night. And even though her belly grew pretty big, her titties still stayed kind of little. Cutest little titties I ever seen. But Chesterfield Hill got plenty of milk from his momma’s titty. So did our three daughters and our next son.
I am retired and we moved the whole clan to Alabama; my grandfather left me a bit of property has a stream running through it. We put the trailer on that bit of property and I’m teaching my oldest boy and oldest daughter how to do a little fishing and a little hunting. The two younger girls and the baby don’t want nothing do with hunting or fishing. Really, I’m thinking that baby boy might be a little on the queer side.
One night, the kids were in bed and Tiffany was laying on my chest. I kissed the top of her head and asked her why she quit looking for her daddy. She shook her head; she does that a lot, when she thinks I’m being stupid.
“Daddy, remember first time you fucked me?” she asked.
She’s been calling me ‘Daddy’ ever since telling me I managed knock her up. Truth is, I kind of like it.
I agreed I sure did. And I told her, even though she’d given me five kids, that pussy was still just as tight as a drum. That got me a pretty hot kiss.
“Remember I got up and ran into the bathroom?” she asked, now looking into my eyes.
I started getting a bad feeling about where this was going. I shrugged; maybe I did, maybe I didn’t remember that. But her hand was on my dick and my dick was starting to get hard.
“I stuck a cup under my pussy and got some of your sperm into it,” she said and pushed my dick up into her tight box. “And, guess what, Daddy?”
Turns out she quit looking for her daddy only because she’d managed to find me. And she found out she likes fucking me.