Bab 1176: LOVE IN THE TIME OF CORONAVIRUS
Chapter One
This all seems like a dream now, an impossible dream that is not only true but continues to evolve every day.
My name is Charlie. I'm a divorced, 48-year-old man with a daughter in college and an ex-wife who loves to tease and torture me from my house in Raleigh. I live in the beach house now, writing freelance stories and fishing mostly.
I'm lucky that I live the life I have. I sold my insurance business and the boring life that went along with it about 10 years ago and settled into the house we built as a tax write-off.
I invited friends down to go fishing. I let my daughter bring her friends home from college. Hell, I even let Sally come down sometimes when I'm traveling or when, inevitably, she needs something done to the house in Raleigh.
So that's where the dream began. Of course, as dreams go, it's sometimes a nightmare too.
Sally called the first week in March. I was packing to go to a college basketball tournament with friends when she told me she and our daughter Charlotte wanted to spend a week at the beach house.
At the time, I didn't think anything of it. We did it all the time, always with me leaving just before they arrived. It wasn't that I didn't want to see her. It was just better this way.
Three days into the arrangement, the world changed. The tournament I was at was abruptly canceled. A story I was working on for a magazine was canceled too. My friends all went home, and I headed to Raleigh to check in on the big empty house while my ex and my daughter enjoyed a week at the beach.
The first few hours driving down the highway seemed bizarre, almost other-worldly as the news was disturbing and the reality of the situation began to unfold. We were shutting down as a nation, and my state was leading the way.
Total lockdown.
As a freelance writer, I was about as non-essential as they came. And as an unemployed divorcee, Sally was basically stuck at the beach. Charlotte's classes at Carolina were canceled, and for a brief time it seemed that the entire world had stopped spinning.
I remember walking into the house and thinking I was stuck there. In fact, for most of the next two days, I didn't call anyone or walk outside or even consider making a run to the beach house. It was if I was quarantined as the last man on earth.
I walked around in boxers for two days, mindlessly checking on things around the house - the heating and air conditioning units, the hot water heater, the locks on the windows, the lighbulbs in the basement.
I was wandering back in time it seemed.
That night I had a dream about the old days, when Sally and I were young and Charlotte was a little girl. Our lives were simple then. I had a good job, and Sally stayed at home with Charlotte, and we played at the pool on the weekends and tried to have sex with a little one in the next room.
Sex was great with Sally. She was adventurous and loved experimenting with new ideas. She was the perfect Southern wife, conservative, prim and proper on the outside, a Baptist girl who still went to church on Sundays and sometimes hosted church gatherings on weeknights.
But in bed, she was the opposite. She was wild and loud, talking dirty as I attemtped to muzzle her to keep our daughter from waking up. She was insistent on trying something new every week or so. Toys, objects, role-playing, taboo. She was always coming up with a way to spice up our sex lives.
Of course, it eventually got out of control. I came back into the town one night a day early. I wanted to surprise her. But as I drove into town, I noticed her car outside a bar. It was a place we frequented before Charlotte was born. It was where many of our old friends still went.
So I was a little shocked when I saw her car outside the bar. I slowed and parked on the other side of the lot and started to walk into the bar, a little unsure of what I was walking into when I decided to walk over to her car for some reason.
As I got a few cars away, I noticed someone was in the passenger seat. It was dark, but the light from outside the bar made it so I could make my way to the other side of the car. I was prepared to drag some thief from the seat when I stopped dead in my tracks.
Sally was in there too, her head bobbing up and down on the guy's cock. I was only a few feet away but they had no idea I was there. I was stunned. Transfixed on the scene. You could hear him moaning, hear him urging my wife to suck him harder. I could hear her too, making animal sounds as I realized his hand was on her ass, her skirt pulled over her waist.
I could barely breathe. I watched for several minutes, trying to decide what to do. I finally decided to leave, to go home and surprise her there.
But here's the thing. When I got into my car, my cock was raging hard. As shocked as I was, I was somehow turned on.
That was a hard night, trying to maintain my composure. I didn't confront her when she came home drunk. I'd sent the babysitter home and put Charlotte to bed when Sally stumbled in around midnight.
She smelled of sex and alcohol, and we went through the motions of surprise and happiness over my coming home early. She passed out on the couch, oblivious that she'd left her panties somewhere else.
I opened her legs and licked her clean as she slipped in and out of consciousness. I was overcome with emotions, anger and lust, rage and wanton desire. I fucked her harder that night than any other time in our lives. I left her on the couch, my cum running out of her freshly-fucked pussy.
Nothing would be the same after that.
The divorce came a year or so later. Little by little, she'd become more bold in stepping out, making excuses and telling lies. She'd come home at night thinking I knew nothing of her affairs. She would encourage me to clean her before I fucked her. She believed she was cucking me, and I was cucking myself.
We fucked like animals for almost two years when it became more than I could handle. I told her I was leaving. I told her I knew everything. She cried and denied and lied until I told her about the night outside the bar. She slapped me.
That was 20 year ago, and here I was in the house again, all alone with memories weighing on me. I walked around in a fog when suddenly I woke up. I'd been in touch with them a time or two, texting them, getting the impression they weren't coming home. So like the devoted husband a generation earlier, I decided to surprise her.
I walked to the freezer in the garage and emptied it. I filled my SUV with everything I could scavenge from the two refrigerators, waited until nightfall then hit the road. I was going home.
The drive from Raleigh to the coast is all highway now, an easy drive even at peak beach summertime but a straight shot in the night with the nation shut down and no one on the roads but me and the truck drivers.
I never gave it a second thought that I might get pulled over. The only law enforcement I saw was the sheriff on our island. He was parked in the road, blue lights flashing and a spotlight aimed at oncoming traffic.
He walked to my car as I idled up to him.
"Hello Baker," he said, calling me by my last name.
"Hello Earl," I said. "Just going home. Everything here OK?"
"Yeah," he said. "Just went past your house. Looks like a party's going on."
I just shook my head and rolled my eyes.
"Never a dull moment at our place, Earl," I said.
It was past midnight. He waved me on, and I drove down to the beach road. I drove around the curve, and there it was. The party at Mr. B's house. Every light in the house was on. Music was blaring. There were no cars in the driveway other than my old convertible and Charlotte and Sally's BMWs.
I walked up the steps without anyone noticing there was company. I opened the front door and walked in. There was no one in the den or the kitchen, so I walked down the hallway toward the bedrooms. All the doors were closed except my bedroom, which was cracked.
I tip-toed to the corner and peeked in. What I saw will never leave me. Charlotte was on her back, her head thrown back moving from side to side. She was moaning. I knew that moan.
And between her legs was our 22-year-old daughter, eating her mom's pussy with a passion. I stood and watched for what seemed like hours. It was probably only seconds.
Then I walked into the kitchen, turned the music off and made myself a drink. It only took a few seconds before they both ran down the hallway and into the den, where they stopped and looked on in horror.
Dad was standing in the kitchen. Neither of them had a stitch of clothes on.
"Evening girls," i said.
They burst out laughing, both of them running to me. We all embraced behind the counter, me, my naked ex-wife and naked daughter.
And so began the dream. I wasn't sure I wasn't in a nightmare.
Chapter Two
I slept on the couch that night, and I had no idea where they slept until I crept down the hall the next morning to take a shower. No one was in my bed, which was already made. The room looked untouched, as if nothing had happened the night before.
We hadn't had much of a conversation in the kitchen. They'd both walked out giggling, Sally confidently and Charlotte trying to cover herself.
When I got out of the shower, I threw on a robe and walked into the den, just as I had every morning I'd ever been there. Still, no one was up. I made coffee and walked out onto the deck.
The wind was blowing my robe open, but I didn't care. I needed salt air. I needed to breathe. I needed to know what in the world was going on.
I finished my coffee and looked out across the water. The ocean was whipped into a white froth. A red sky seemed to be a warning not just for sailors but for who knew what?
I turned around just as a gust of wind blew my robe open again. For a second, I was completely exposed. My ex wife was standing in the doorway, one hand on her hip, her sunglasses pulling back her long blonde hair, a Carolina t-shirt billowing over a pair of white bikini bottoms.
"Hello Sailor," she said.
Then she walked up to me on her tip toes and kissed me on the lips.
"Welcome to the lockdown," she said.
It was only then that I remembered the SUV was packed with everything from the house in Raleigh.
"Jesus!" I said, taking her hand and running down the steps.
"What is going on?" Sally asked.
I opened the back lid and started handing her steaks and frozen hot dogs, bottles of vodka and cartons of milk, frozen vegetables and fresh fruit, bread and bottles of water and Perrier and tonic water. We ran back and forth from the car to the freezer, filling it up and finally walking back to the car where Charlotte stood by the open passenger seat.
She looked just like her mother, tall and tanned, blonde and beautiful. She had a big smile on her face.
"Welcome home, Daddy," she said, planting a big kiss right on my lips.
Then she handed Sally something from the front seat.
"You forgot this," she said.
It was a vibrator. I'd packed it last.
We walked in laughing and making small talk of my drive down and their week stranded at the beach. Not a word was mentioned of the night before. Why they ran into the den with no clothes on was never explained. It just never came up again.
That was how we'd always been. Some things needed no explanation. Some things were better left unexplained.
The first few days together were strained. Lots of things went unsaid. We made chatter without any depth. We talked of mutual friends, of the unknown pandemic, of Charlotte's situation with classes being canceled and my situation with lost assignments and uncertainty about how long we'd be living together.
We made meals, walked to the dune and looked down on the beach where Earl was on a four-wheeler, patroling and keeping people away from the water. We drank in the evenings and told stories of long ago.
And when it was time for bed, Sally would go to the guest room, Charlotte would go dowstairs to one of the bedrooms on the lower floor. I'd usually fall asleep on the couch then make my way to my bed late at night.
Sometimes the bedside light would be on in Sally's room. Sometimes I would linger by the door, but I didn't go in. We weren't there yet.
The days turned to weeks and then to months, and we slowly became more comfortable around each other to the point that we began to flirt more, to laugh more.
Eventually, we made out on the couch, tears in Sally's eyes as the old days washed over us. Charlotte would give us space. We talked into the night, settled some old scores.
The days were breezy and fun. The evenings a bit tense as we cooked and ate, sometimes in silence, sometimes just listening to Charlotte chattering about her Carolina friends, their wild parties and best-laid plans.
We settled into a routine. But I could tell there was tension beyond just being with my ex again, beyond the obvious situation being quarantined together, having to make decisions about food and grocery shopping and getting by in a new normal that was nothing but for the Bakers of Brunswick County.
I was somehow in the way.
Life had gone without me after the divorce. They'd become closer. So had Charlotte and I, but we'd existed in parallel spheres for 20 years. The scene on the first night back at the beach house hung in the air. I'm pretty sure they didn't know I'd seen anything, at least that was how I rationalized it.
But every single night, I'd go to bed thinking about it and thinking about Sally all those years ago in the front seat of her car. That was the worst time of my life, a confused time when I tried to hold onto a marriage, going so far as having sloppy seconds with my own wife, just holding onto something that was slipping away.
And here we were again, all together, grown older and wiser and maybe stronger through the years. But the truth was, Sally and I hadn't been together in 20 years. Charlotte and Sally had. And now I'd seen them together in a way I could've never imagined.
I would go to bed with a hard cock thinking about my wife with another man and my daughter with my ex wife. I masturbated to one or the other every single night.
Chapter Three
Charlotte was the glue. She was living a dream herself. For all those years, she'd kept me updated on Sally, telling me about her boyfriends, her sex life, her affairs and friendships and breakups and the fallout.
She said a hundred times, "Mom still loves you." And I said a hundred times "And I love her."
But she never knew of the cheating. She never knew the details of the divorce. She just wanted her parents to be together again. And here we were.
After three months together, we were getting a little stir crazy. The beach had opened up at least, and we went on long walks, sometimes alone, sometimes Sally and Charlotte and sometimes just Charlotte and I. But not Sally and I. Other than a night or two kissing and crying on the couch, we hadn't truly been alone.
And then one night Charlotte told us there was going to be a bonfire, a beach party among the youngsters, the surfer boys and the locals, college kids and a handful of young people stranded on the island since March.
It was June, and it was time.
Sally and I were weathered by the years. We'd fought on the phone, fought over the house and old friends, the membership at the club, cars and alimony and taxes and investments.
We always made up, but we could never get past the elephant in the room. She'd cheated on me. I'd caught her red-handed. She cheated on me for two years after I'd caught her red-handed. That was what she held against me. That I knew. That I said nothing. That I dropped it on her one afternoon like a bomb.
She did everything wrong, but all she felt was me holding onto that anger, that confusion, all those emotions that ultimately killed us. That was what she held against me through the years.
And that was what was between us now. That hung over everything. We knew there was going to be a reckoning. We just didn't know how to start it.
Or rather, we didn't know how it would end once it started.
So we walked softly, avoiding it at all costs.
Until June. The night of the bonfire.
It started like any other Saturday night. Sally and Charlotte flitted about like birds, going through bikinis and summer outfits like school girls home for spring break. They laughed and hugged and generally acted as if they were the only two people in the house, the only two people on earth.
I just watched and listened, trying to act like I wasn't watching or listening. They would whisper at times, mumurring secrets and talking in a language all their own, two best friends without a care in the world.
Of course, Sally settled on a white bikini bottom and a Carolina t-shirt torn midrift. It was never about the outfit, I realized. It was about bonding. When they came out, they were beaming. I stood in the kitchen with a vodka tonic in my hand.
"Daddy, can I take the convertible?" Charlotte asked.
"Of course you can," her mother answered without even looking my way.
She was busy making a drink for herself, noisily clinking ice into a lowball glass and pouring a little too much vodka into it.
Charlotte and I winked at each other and smiled.
"How late will you be out?" I asked.
It was a rhetorical question, and we both knew it. I'd asked it a hundred times before, and there was no answer.
"Not late," she said. "Not too late."
We all laughed as I threw her the keys. She caught them with one hand, like the second baseman she'd been all those years ago when she played Little League for my boys team. Charlotte more than held her own. She refused to play softball with the girls. She wanted to play with the boys. She wanted to play for her daddy.
She kissed me on the lips, a quick smack, then she opened the refrigerator and grabbed a beer.
"You guys have fun tonight," she said, looking at Sally and putting her hand around my waist. "It's time."
As she walked away from me, her hand slid down my ass and I felt a slight squeeze as she walked toward her mother, kissed her on the lips and whispered something in her ear. They both giggled and looked at me, leering at me from top to bottom. Then they burst out laughing.
My cock was stirring. The bulge was evident.
Charlotte pranced out of the house and down the steps. We heard the car door open and close, the engine fire up and then rev as she gunned the convertible and hit the road, the back tires screeching with the gear shift.
"Our little girl has grown up," Sally said, breaking the silence.
"She's just like her mother," I said, turning to freshen my drink.
Sally walked up beside me and snuggled her head against my chest.
"Is that a bad thing?" she asked, looking up with big questioning eyes.
She was so beautiful. We were in our 40s, in the prime of life. We'd lived, married, fought, divorced, fought some more and made up over and over again over time. If we were still in love neither of us would admit it to the other. Where we were going, neither of us knew.
"We'll see," I said.
I didn't mean it the way it sounded, but Sally didn't flinch. She kissed me on my bare chest, and I kissed the top of her head.
"C'mon," she said. "Let's walk on the beach."
We walked until dark, all the way to the lighthouse and back, talking about nothing, walking in total silence for much of the way, holding hands, picking up shells, stopping to watch the sun disappear behind the dune and then walking on in silence.
At some point, we stopped and peered far down the beach. There was a tiny speck of flame. The bonfire party. We stood and watched it without speaking, instinctively wrapping our arms around each other. Then we were kissing.
It happened that quickly, neither of us saying a word, just melting into each other's arms in a passionate kiss, our first real kiss in years. Our hands slid up and down each other's back, sliding down to our asses, her hands slipping inside my shorts, mine inside her bikini bottom.Sally began to purr, that soft sound that made my heart melt and my inhibitions disappear. Her hands wandered down to the front of my shorts, fumbling with the button and the zipper until they fell to my feet.
My gorgeous ex wife went to her knees and took my cock into her gorgeous mouth, sucking and licking, worshipping my cock for the first time in years. She took her time, running her tongue up and down the shaft as I moaned and held the back of her head.
She sucked my balls, sucked the head of my cock and slid a finger underneath. I spread my legs as she touched my hole and took the entire length of my cock into her throat.
"God yes," I said. "Suck me baby Suck Daddy's big cock."
I came in a torrent of white cum, without warning her first, surprising her with a flood that made her squeal and devour my cock even more, cum spewing out of her mouth, running down her face and chin, sucking every last drop as I held her hair and groaned.
I pulled her up by her long blonde hair, forcefully without words, and stared at her cum-covered face. She was speechless, her lips closed, her eyes questioning, waiting, shining in the moonlight. There were tears running down her face, her mascara running. She looked like a mess. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
I kissed her hard, sliding my tongue through her lips, tasting my cum in a wet, sloppy embrace, licking her cum-covered face, licking her tears then holding her head against my chest.
She caressed my nipples and grinded her pussy against me, lifting a leg and wrapping it around me as I reached down and pulled it higher.
Sally licked my nipples and purred. I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back so we were staring at each other in the half light. We were silent, breathing heavily as the darkness enveloped us, a large fire burning in the distance.
"Fuck me, Daddy," she whispered. "Fuck me like you hate me."
It was the old Sally, back after all these years. My wife from another life, the passionate young lover who was insatiable, who wanted more than I could give her, who strayed for more and wrecked our perfect life.
I pulled her hair harder and stared without saying a word, my eyes piercing her soul, making her wait, making her feel the unspoken emotion of time, of hurt, of pain.
"Not yet," I finally said. "Not here."
We walked back to the house in silence, the fire getting bigger as we approached it, drawn to it yet knowing we would never get there. We stopped at the steps of our long deck and watched it burn, still a half mile away, watching dark figures dance around it, young people with their whole lives ahead of them, shaking off the bonds of youth and pandemic, choosing to live, to party instead of isolation and fear.
We stood arm and arm without speaking, just watching the flames grow higher and higher, the wind blowing off the ocean stoking the fire and the tension we both felt. Finally, she broke away and walked up two steps, holding my hand, her hair billowing into a blonde blur.
"C'mon, Charlie," she said in a low and sultry voice. "Come make your wife a drink."
Chapter Four
We drank until we couldn't stand up, then we drank until we couldn't talk. We ended up in my bed, naked and prowling each other, on our knees and circling like animals, like two wrestlers waiting for one to make the first move.
Sally's tongue was hanging out. She drooled and looked at me through her hair, which hung over her face like a slut who'd already been fucked. She playfully reached out and pushed me.
"Fuck me," she said, swaying from side to side, sliding her hand into her pussy and wiping it on my face. "Fuck me like a whore."
I reached out and grabbed her hair, and she slapped me in face.
"Fuck me!" she said louder. "FUCK YOUR SLUT WIFE!"
We continued to stare, smoldering in the darkness, her pushing me, slapping me, taunting me in tears, me holding her hair and pulling her like a ragdoll.
"That's it," she said, pulling herself free and pushing me down onto my back. "Tell me what you want."
She straddled me, her hot pussy inches from my face, staring down at me as I rubbed her legs and looked into her eyes. Then without warning, she sat down hard on my face and began to grind. Her hands were on the headboard as she slid her cunt up and down my face, her clit sliding from my chin to my nose, masturbating herself with my goatee and mustache.
Her head was thrown back as she rode me.
"YES!" she screamed to no one. "God yes, Charlie!"
She rode me until she came, a trickle of sweet cum dripping into my mouth as she wriggled down on me, her clit the size of a small cock with me sucking it in and out of my mouth as she trembled and came over and over again.
"My God!" she screamed. "My God, I've missed you so much."
She didn't move. She just sat there as her swollen clit slid in and out of my mouth. I could feel the goosebumps all over her as I slid my hands up and down her body. She seemed to be in a trance, still leaned against the headboard, still sitting on my face, heaving, breathing in and out hard and loud, as if she were exhausted but insatiable.
I managed to slide out from underneath her. She didn't move. I got on my knees behind her, grabbed her tits from behind and began to lick her neck, her cheeks, shoulders. I ran my hand up and down her front, sliding both of them between her legs then began to slowly pull them apart and back, griding my hard cock into her ass cheeks.
Her hands slid down the headboard onto the mattress, her knees spread like an animal in heat. I slid my hand underneath her, between her legs as she panted.
"Fuck me, Daddy," she said breathlessly. "Fuck me like a dog."
I bent down and licked her from behind, sliding my tongue inside her ass crack, wetting it and probing it as she moaned and begged.
"Take me," she said. "Own me."
I tongue-fucked her as she begged, lost in a swirl of alcohol and sexual depravity. I slid a finger into her asshole, and she gasped. I pulled it out and slid my thumb in her, thumb-fucking her slowly as she tired to turn and look, her hair hanging down like a wild animal, her hot asshole on fire.
"Fuck it," she said through gritted teeth. "Fuck my ass."
She sank her head into the pillow, reached back and pulled her cheeks apart. I entered her slowly, sliding the tip of my cock inside her as she caught her breath and mumbled into the pillow.
"Fuck me," she said, muffled in a low voice.
I plunged my cock inside her, making her wince in pain, holding it inside her and letting her feel the hot knot of my mushroom head deep in her hole. I didn't fuck her. I just left it there, throbbing and growing in her. She instinctively reached her hands underneath her and began to masturbate.
I held her hips and stayed deep inside her as she moaned and whimpered. She came quickly, groaning into the pillow, no longer sensual but weak and submissive. I slowly pulled my cock from her aching ass. We both rolled over and collapsed on our backs, our chests heaving, our hearts beating wildly. I grabbed her hair and pulled her down onto my cock.
"Suck me, you fucking slut," I said. "Taste yourself on my cock."
She did as she was told, sucking me with a wild look in her eyes, taking the length of my cock all the way down her throat, slobbering and drooling, taking my balls into both hands, wet and sloppy. She sucked and sucked, and I refused to cum. She wiped my cock all over her face, letting her slobber run down her cheeks, precum oozing onto her forehead as she licked my balls and underneath, flicking her tongue against my hole then jamming my cock back down her throat.
I let her suck me as long as she wanted, ravishing my cock, covering her face with wet, wanton sexual desire. She was lost.
I had my hands behind my head, watching her enjoying my cock like it was forbidden fruit. She was incredible. I was in awe of her.
Eventually, I reached down to her shoulders and pulled her off, drawing her toward me, kissing her in the mouth, tasting my cock, my precum on her lips. We kissed passionately, like lovers again, all the anger washed away, all the years melting as we kissed with our eyes open, our hands sliding all over our bodies, completely surrendering to each other.
I took her head in my hands, holding her tight and looking into her eyes.
"I love you, Sally," I said. "I've always loved you."
She began to cry, shaking slightly as we stared at each other. I held her head against my chest and let her sob, tears running down my chest as I caressed her back and stroked her hair.
"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice breaking with each word. "I'm so sorry."
We didn't have sex that night. We had an intervention. She had submitted to me, admitting without words that she'd ruined everything all those years ago. I'd taken the last of my anger out, humiliating her one last time, exposing her for what she was and laying it all to bear.
Her ass was burning. My cock was still at attention. We lay in an embrace, sweating and breathing each other's air, our faces inches apart as I dried her tears and ran my hands through her hair.
"I do love you Charlie," she finally whispered.
We lay there for what seemed like hours, petting and pawing, playfully toying with each other, kissing and giggling like kids. We were lost in each other again, after all those years.
That it took a world-wide crisis to bring us together again was fitting. We lay there with no idea how long it would last, how long we would be in the beach house, how long this restart would linger.
We kissed like old lovers, lost in time and spent from the years of being apart and the hours of foreplay leading up to this night, this moment.
Sally slid her hand down and began to softly stroke my cock, touching it so lightly that it jumped and and sprang, edging me, teasing me, torturing me. I squeezed her tits and massaged them, making her moan, building up to what we'd really been waiting for.
After a generation apart, after three months of forced isolation, after a long day of tears and anger and lust and animal sex, we were finally going to make love. We kissed hard and she took her hand from my cock. We both rose to our knees and looked into each others eyes.
We about to kiss again when we both felt the same thing at the same time. There was a presence in the room. There was something we couldn't see but we could sense it.
"Hello you two," a voice came from the doorway.
It was Charlotte. She was standing there watching us, one hand on the doorjam and one hand on her pussy. She was naked as a jaybird, smiling in the half-light, beautiful beyond words.
"Come here, baby," Sally said.
Our daughter walked toward us, slinky and sexually walking toward the bed, naked and confident as my heart pounded. I was almost passing out as Charlotte crawled onto the bed and rose to hug her mom directly over me. They kissed passionately as I began to stroke my cock with realizing it.
I was in the middle of a dream, my head spinning. I reached one hand up and slid it against Sally's thighs. Then I took my other hand off my cock and slid it up my daughter's thighs. I was rubbing them when I felt a hand reach down and grab mine, pulling it up and pushing it onto a hot, wet pussy.
It was Charlotte. She moaned as she kissed her mother and felt her father sliding his fingers against her clit. She opened her legs slightly and let me enter her, sliding two fingers directly up inside her. Sally did the same, taking my hand and pushing it against her molten slit, opening her legs and letting me slide two fingers up in her.
I was in another world as they kissed and caressed each other's breasts and allowed me to finger them into ecstacy.
And then without word, they both descended onto my cock, licking it between them, moaning and sucking, one on my cock head, one on my balls. They took turns sucking me and whispering to each other.
"Lick it baby," Sally said to Charlotte.
"Suck it Mommy," Charlotte responded.
It was powerful. It was intense. It was wrong and so fucking hot. I came harder than I've ever come before, an explosion of cum that burst past their lips and spattered back down onto their faces. I came in waves, bucking my hips and talking in a voice I'd never heard come from my mouth.
"Jesus Christ!" I said. "God yes."
I came until I could come no more, each of them sucking the last drops from the raw hard head of my cock, cum running down their faces, long strands from the tip of my cock to their lips as they kissed and traded my cum, a long and passionate kiss, sloppy and sensual, so powerful in the darkest most incredible moment of our lives.
Then they both collapsed onto me, their lips and mine coming together, our tongues thrashing, cum everywhere, the three of us drinking my cum from our mouths, the family seed exchanged from one to the other.
I was finally home again. We were a family again, bonded by a longing through years of pain and by months of forced companionship. It was the pandemic that brought us together, a tragedy of unimaginable horror world-wide, a virus that kills like a sniper and takes what it wants when it wants it.
We lay there in silence, our breathing the only sound other than the ocean crashing in the distance.
The Bakers of Brunswick County cuddled in a threesome, an incestual fusion of love and taboo yearning. We would lie there all night. And we would stay in the house until the nightmare outside came to an end.
An impossible dream come true. A deep and dark dream that would evolve over time, with none of us understanding where it began or where it would end.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone