บท 2848: ON THE ROCKS
It's not news, and certainly no surprise to me, that statistics show that half of all marriages end in divorce these days. I think that probably another 25% should end that way. Maybe the idea of marriage is obsolete anyway. My own divorce ratio is two thirds, and my current one is in that second group. Why don't I divorce my wife? Well, to answer that I need to explain how I got to this point in the first place.
Shelley and I met through a mutual friend five years ago. I was just recovering from my second divorce and she was looking for a husband. She had been divorced for two years and was tired of dating "unsuitable men", as she put it. I'm still not sure what made her think I was suitable, but apparently her estimation was seriously off. We were married and had a nice honeymoon. Her daughters stayed with their father for the two weeks we were in Mexico fucking our brains out.
Shelley's girls were eight and thirteen when we married. Allie, the younger one was unhappy with our union. She had still held the hope that her parents would get back together. Billie had no such illusions. Being the older one, she was more painfully aware of the grievances her parents had toward each other. She and I hit it off, if not from the first, then from very soon after her mom and I got together. In those first months, when things were still good between Shel and me, we had a lot of fun. The good times the four of us had, picnicking, camping and such, helped to bring even Allie around to acceptance of the situation -- and of me.
While I've always been a believer in the "united front" approach to parenting, it didn't take long for the girls to notice the influence my presence had on their mother. I urged her (out of the hearing of the children, of course) to temper her discipline with more love. I urged more positive feedback. Billie has told me that before I came along Shelley was a harridan. ("Do it because I say so, dammit!") Don't misunderstand me, there are definitely times when that is the tack one has to take, but not every time.
We had two good years. Then Shelley's old habits (and probably mine as well) began to assert themselves. She became irresponsible about a lot of things. She spent too much money on things we didn't need. She got "great" ideas, invested money in them, then dropped them when another brainstorm came along. (It isn't that a lot of her ideas weren't intrinsically good. Most of them were. The problem was that she hadn't thought them through before jumping in with both feet.) She would fail to be where she was supposed to be at certain times. She'd be late without calling. All this overlapped onto the girls, both in disciplinary form and in Shelley's disappointing failures to show up for school events and other things.
We began to argue. I tried to keep things private, addressing Shelley's failures when the girls weren't around. She, however, didn't understand the damage it does when parents argue -- at least the way Shelley does -- in front of children. Shelley develops a foul mouth when she is angry. She doesn't care what she calls me (or their father, or sometimes even her daughters ) or who hears it. Increasingly, both girls began to turn to me for solace and support. That is the root of why I don't divorce the bitch. We didn't adopt the girls when we married, so I have no legal rights where they're concerned. Still, I won't abandon them to her tender mercies, even though they are now thirteen and eighteen. Billie will soon be out of the house but Allie has five more years. After that, Shelley can kiss my ass.
As I said, the closeness that developed between myself and the girls, especially Billie, was why I was reluctant to leave. I feel good about the fact that I have had no little part in helping Billie develop into a wonderful young woman. At thirteen she was a gawky, shy bookworm. She could count the friends in her class on one hand. At eighteen she ran for class vice president and won hands down. Her mother hadn't paid any attention to the whole thing, so I took the girls out to dinner to celebrate when their mom didn't come home from work.
Shelley's unexplained absences might lead a man to wonder about infidelity. I wondered, but couldn't, by then, find it in myself to be angry or resentful. I just had stopped caring. To me it was a plus that we didn't have to put up with so many of Shelley's free-ranging temper tantrums. The girls and I had barbecues, played games and went to the park near the house.
Last summer Allie went to camp for a week in July. I had suggested to Shelley that she and Billie and I take the week off and go somewhere. There is a nice lake about two hours drive up into the mountains. It is owned entirely by one family. They built a few rental cabins around the shoreline. It wasn't primitive, since they had electricity and running water. Still it was a nice rustic getaway from the city. Shelley and I took both girls there a few times when we first became a family. Shelley, however, wanted no part of it. "I never really liked all the dirt and grime of a camping trip," she said. "I only did it to 'bond' with you. You and Billie can go knock yourselves out. I don't care."
And that was just it. She didn't care any more, if she ever had. Maybe she had given birth to the girls to 'bond' with their father. It hadn't worked, I guess. At any rate, Billie was eager to get away for a while. I arranged to take my vacation from work and the same Friday afternoon we put Allie on the bus to camp, Billie and I set off for the lake.
We reached the cabin just before dusk. We sat on the swing on the covered porch of our little two room cabin watching the sky change colors. all we had to do that first night was relax. We had stopped for burgers on the road, so dinner wasn't an issue. Billie leaned into me and my arm went automatically around her shoulders. Many nights she and Allie and I sat and watched TV that way, one girl on either side of me.
I was drinking a beer. Billie asked for a sip. I sometimes let her taste my beers, but not often. We got to discussing her coming freshman year of college. "You know, Dad, I am probably going to be going to parties at school. I should learn how to drink."
"You aren't going to school to party, B.," I admonished. I knew that there would be parties, that there would be drinking -- as well as drugs, and sex. I had gone to college myself. "I suppose that you will go to some, though. That doesn't mean you have to drink. It isn't a sin to be a teetotaler, you know."
"Yeah, but what kind of friends will that leave me? Bible bangers and holy rollers? No thanks!" I knew she had a point.
"A lot of people never drink, but they don't fit into those categories. Still, if you want a beer, this seems like the perfect place to allow you one -- just one, remember!" She bounced up off the swing and slammed into the house to get her very first ( I hoped!) beer. A few minutes later she returned. She had brought a fresh one for me, as well. We sat and talked about what classes she should take and sipped our beers. At least I sipped. Billie was finished with her beer before I had drunk half of mine. She pleaded for another one.
I knew that I should probably let her drink herself sick while we were at the lake. Nothing like some aversion therapy. So that's what I decided to do. I told her to go ahead. I had brought enough for myself for the week. If she drank me out, I would either do without or drive to the little store a mile back down the road. When she came back with her second can I explained to her.
"I'll tell you what. I know the temptations you'll encounter at school. You are strong enough to resist them if you choose to do so. But I know how seductive it is to want to fit in with your friends." She was watching me with a little frown, wondering where I was going with this lecture. "So while we're here, I've decided to let you have as much to drink as you want. I'm sure you'll get drunk, maybe even puke. You'll wake up with a hangover and swear to never drink again. That's a promise you probably won't keep. But maybe the experience will give you some idea of your limits and teach you not to go overboard again. So knock yourself out, Kiddo." She raised up and planted a wet, beery kiss on my cheek.
"Thanks, Daddy. I'll bet you I don't get sick, though." Two hours and several beers later, those words echoed in my mind while I held her hair back as she deposited her five beers into the grass at the edge of the clearing where the cabin stood. She held her stomach and answered the frogs in the lake with her own croaks. Finally she was empty, but still drunk. Having been there, I knew what would make her feel the best she could under the circumstances.
I helped her inside and into the bathroom. I started the water and ran a warm bath for her. She sat on the toilet and groaned. I went out and got one of the long tee-shirts that she slept in from her backpack. I took it back in and hung it on the empty hook on the wall. Billie hadn't moved. "Can you get yourself in and not drown?" I asked her. She nodded. I walked out and pulled the door to, but not latched. I wanted to be able to hear her if she needed me.
I was sitting on the couch reading a few minutes later. "Daddy..." Billie's voice sounded so pitiful, but I knew she wasn't dying -- just wishing she could. "Can you come here...please?" I set my book aside and went to the door of the bathroom.
"What do you need, Honey?" I felt the steamy air drifting out.
"No, come in here," she said. It had been a couple of years since I'd seen her naked. I was perfectly aware of the developing breasts and womanly curves that had replaced the angles of adolescence. Still, when I walked in I was impressed. Her breasts bobbed at the water line, their nipples a beautiful deep pink. I was surprised when I glanced down to her crotch. Where I had expected to see a dark patch of pubic hair, there was just bare skin, just the way she'd looked at thirteen. My eyes went back to her face. "Can you wash me, please?" she asked me.
"Sure, Honey," I said as I knelt down beside the tub. I suppose that there had been obscure hints of fantasy about my stepdaughter in the depths of my mind. A foreshadowing of the shocking thoughts that began to drift into my consciousness then. They were shocking to me, since I had watched this girl grow up, helping her through some rough times -- times her mother properly should have taken on, but wouldn't or couldn't. Like when she got her first period. Like when she had her first date and second and third with the same nice-seeming boy -- the date when she had to fight the boy off to keep him out of her pants. My discussion with the boy's parents the next day. I eased her through those times with all the love of a natural parent. Why was I now feeling the insidious edge of lust rubbing against my love for her? The answer is simple now. That night I didn't realize that Billie and I had become more of a loving couple -- except for the lack of a sexual dimension -- than her mother and I were at that point.
I soaped up her back and rinsed her off, kneading her shoulders while she leaned her spinning head against my arm. She leaned back and closed her eyes. I took a deep breath and used the cloth to wash her face and neck. Then I moved down to her firm breasts and belly. My cock was stiff in my jeans and my own mind was spinning every bit as much as Billie's must have been, but my problem wasn't from too much beer. I resisted the urge to plunge down and run my hand over her soft mound. Instead I lifted her foot and scrubbed it roughly. She giggled and jerked away, telling me it tickled too much. I played with her the same way I had at other times, tickling her feet and ribs. Her attempts to shield herself splashed us both, my shirt and jeans becoming drenched in the process. My lust retreated, but never disappeared. It brought our play into a new arena, though I didn't think she was aware of it then.
I dropped the cloth into the water and stood up. She seemed to be feeling better. "So now you know how much beer is too much for you, don't you?" I said with my best parental voice.
"Oh, God!" she groaned, holding her head between her hands. "My head is pounding! I thought this wasn't supposed to happen until tomorrow?"
"Throwing up sometimes accelerates things," I told her as I turned to leave. "Maybe you won't feel too bad in the morning to go fishing." I somehow had my doubts about a morning on a bobbing boat after that night of vomiting, but kids heal more quickly than adults. She already seemed more herself.
"Oh, yea!" she cheered. "I bet I catch a bigger trout than you do!" I laughed and made my escape. It stopped me when I realized the way I was thinking of what had just happened. It felt like I had simultaneously passed and flunked a test. Passed because I had beaten the lust away, but flunked because it had occurred at all. I was also still very horny.
There were three beds in the cabin. One was full size, the other two were twins. By the time Billie came out of the bathroom in her long tee-shirt, I had stripped to my underwear and gotten into the larger bed. She rummaged in her pack and retrieved a pair of panties. She turned away and stepped into them. I indulged the impulse to watch her perfect heart-shaped ass disappear into the little bikinis. My dick twitched again and I adjusted my position so it didn't show. Billie came to my side and bent to kiss me goodnight. I presented my cheek to her, but she took my chin in hand and kissed my lips. It wasn't the first time she'd done that. It always had happened when she really wanted to let me know how much she loved and appreciated me. My heart ached, knowing I only partly deserved her love -- and her bottomless trust. She got into her twin bed and I turned out the light.
The next day I was disappointed to see that she seemed to have no trace of a hangover whatsoever. We went fishing in the morning and swam out to the float in the afternoon. The lake wasn't wide, but it was about a half mile long. While we fished I looked around the shore. The only activity I noticed was at the far end of the lake. A man and a boy chopped wood and a plume of smoke floated above the roof. None of the nearer cabins seemed to be in use.
We had fresh trout for lunch, rolled in egg and cornmeal then fried over the wood stove. When she asked, I allowed Billie to drink a beer with her food. I was glad to see that she stopped at one. We rested -- I napped, I don't know about Billie -- then got undressed to go swimming. After that Billie took a nap on my bed ("It's a lot more comfortable!") while I sat outside and read. Later we played cards and backgammon while we talked.
Still later, I was sitting on the porch swing. Billie was on the top step of the porch, leaning against the support post. "Dad, there's something I have wanted to talk to you about," Billie sounded very serious. I told her to go ahead. "Well, remember when Thomas almost raped me?" That had been the first boy she'd gone out with. She had dated others since. I felt a little uneasy because we'd never talked about the extent of her sexual activities -- if any. I had been curious in the past. My feelings from the night before had reminded me that I didn't even know if she was still a virgin.
"Of course I remember."
"Well...it made me think -- a lot. I liked making out with boys, but I just wasn't ready to go any farther. But at the same time, I didn't want to get a reputation of being a tease. So when I was going out with Dave last year I decided to take the next step." I felt my muscles tense up. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear about this. I reminded myself that, while she certainly had shared all this with her friends, she needed a mature perspective. Her mother obviously wouldn't have taken the time to listen to her. I urged her to go on.
"It was our third date -- must be a magic number, eh? That was when Thomas decided I should put out for him. Anyway, I let Dave feel my tits." She had used the word before in my hearing. Language restrictions weren't high on my list of discipline requirements. I'd even overheard her say 'fuck' on the phone to her friends a couple of times. That was one she had yet to use in my presence. "Then he wanted me to play with his...penis." I wondered what term she and her friends preferred: a cock? A prick? A dick? Dong, willie, prong, rod, the list goes on and on. She was, so far, unwilling to use any of the euphemisms to me, however.
"So what did you do?" I asked.
"I did it. It was stiff and felt funny in my hand. He told me to rub it up and down. A couple of minutes later he squirted cu...uh...sperm all over us both. He wiped it all up with a towel he took out of the console. I remember thinking he must keep it there for that." The fact that he was prepared for something like that was what put her off of things. She went on to explain that it made her feel like he had set her up. I thought so too.
"He probably had some condoms in there, too," I told her with a smile. She glanced at me and smiled back.
"Probably! Are all of you like that? I mean all guys?"
"No. I know it seems like it, especially with boys your age. But there really are nice guys out there. On the other hand, you could look at it from another perspective. It is a good thing a boy is prepared if he is going to be sexually active. Towels and condoms are good. Better than getting a girl pregnant or passing on a disease."
She warmed to the conversation. She already knew I'd had a vasectomy several years before her mother came into my life. That point had been brought out when the girls had asked if they could expect a new sibling. I finally worked up the courage to ask her. "So, Honey, you haven't said. Are you still a virgin?" Her eyes darted to mine then quickly away. She gazed at the lake, struggling with her need to talk and her reluctance to admit to me that she wasn't "as pure as the driven snow". She gulped and turned back to me.
"No," she said, dropping her gaze from mine. I knew she was afraid she'd see disapproval there. She'd have been disappointed in that. I reached over and took her hand. She raised her eyes again.
"It's okay, B.," I said. "Really. I don't think any less of you. Want to tell me?"
She took a deep breath. he previous summer she had slept over at a girlfriend's house. They had sneaked out and met some boys. One of them was Dave, the guy she'd jerked off before. They went to a deserted park -- in fact the one where I'd taken the girls to play on the swings and slide once upon a time. The boys fucked the girls, the girls sneaked back in. End of story. I pulled her to her feet and drew her to the swing. We sat and talked a lot. I told her the only part of the tale that bothered me was the sneaking out. I finally convinced her that I didn't share the mainstream view that a girl should be a virgin on her wedding night. I also let her know that, conversely, I didn't approve of sharing her treasures with every guy she dated. It felt good to open up to her. Almost as good as it felt to have her open up to me.
We discussed a number of things about sex that day. She had all the questions everybody has. I was as honest as I could be, even though some of the topics were difficult for me to talk to her about. Oral sex, for instance. She had never given it or received it. Hell, she'd only given one hand job and been fucked once -- probably badly. Fortunately, it sounded as if the boy had taken care to prepare her for it sufficiently. It hadn't hurt much she said. She said he'd wanted her to blow him, but she wouldn't. Her girlfriend hadn't been so shy. Billie said it had kind of turned her on to watch Sheila suck on her boyfriend's cock (she finally used the word), but not enough for her to work up the nerve. She asked me about blowjobs -- how, what, etc. I laughed."You're asking the wrong guy, Honey. Ask your mother -- or on second thought, don't. Ask the doctor the next time you go see her." The girls had been going to the same doctor that had brought them into the world all their lives. I was fairly sure she would give her straight answers. "Or you could look into it in a sex manual. Still, I'm sure nothing beats experience. That's the way it is with other aspects of sex."
"Well, then, tell me about when a guy goes down on a girl. What's that like?" This was where I got really uncomfortable. I felt my face heat up and was only able to give her the bare bones of an explanation. Again, I fell back on experience being the best teacher. She sat silent then for a while. Then she rose and said she wanted to take a shower. She went inside and I remained in the swing, thinking and swinging as I watched the lake. I tried not to imagine her in the shower. It didn't work. Last night's bath, my own sexual deprivation (Shelley and I rarely got along well enough to fuck), and our discussion had revved up my libido. I went to make sure she was safely in the shower. She hadn't closed the door. It stood wide open and I could see her through the blur of the glass door. No dark shadow at her crotch. I rubbed my erection through my pants.
Things got worse as I saw her hand drop to her own crotch. Her motions left no doubt but that she was masturbating. I undid my shorts and stroked myself as she diddled her little pussy. The idea that only a pane of glass and a cloud of steam separated us made me even hotter. It didn't take long for me to cum. I cleaned myself up and buttoned my shorts. I went back outside and down to the dock. I was dangling my feet in the water and feeling guilty when Billie came down. She had put her bikini back on and carried a towel, which she spread out to lay on. There was maybe another half hour of good sun left to the day.
"Can you rub some lotion on my back, Daddy?" I was glad to do it, but not because I didn't want to see her sunburned. She untied the strap of her top and lay on her belly. I rubbed her back as I spread the lotion. "We probably could just go naked here if we wanted to," she said. "There isn't anybody else except that family down the lake." The idea had occurred to me already, but I had been reluctant to suggest it. The way things had developed now, I knew that my new interest in my stepdaughter would be all too plain as soon as we got naked.
"You can if you want to, Honey." I said. I purposely said "you", rather than "we". It wasn't lost on her.
"Well, I don't want to be the only one. Come on, I've seen you naked before. And you gave me a bath last night. That felt really good, Daddy. I'll show you mine...again...if you show me yours." She lifted her head and looked at me with a grin. It was a challenge. A very knowing challenge. I knew then that she must have known what I was doing while she showered. Later she told me that she could see my silhouette in the living room. I had forgotten about the outside brightness. My face heated up and I felt really silly.
She rolled over and pulled her top off and wriggled out of the bottoms. On her knees, she lifted my shirt off over my head and began to unbutton my shorts. I pushed her hands away and sat back. "Come on, chicken!" she challenged. I sighed and pulled off my shorts. I hadn't bothered with underwear after we swam. My cock was already hard. Her eyes widened and remained glued to my erection. My own eyes widened as I saw her lick her lips. Then she turned away and lay back down. I got the feeling she was beginning to doubt the wisdom of all this. I already had been doubting it.
This was my stepdaughter, for Christ's sake! What the hell was I thinking? I stood and walked up to the cabin with our clothes. I went into the coolness of the cabin and took a deep breath. I got a beer from the refrigerator and drank it down in several swallows. I burped. I looked down to the dock. Billie basked in the sunshine. The devil on one shoulder reminded me that she was no virgin, and had a strong curiosity about sex. The angel on the other side screamed that she was my stepdaughter. The two imps argued back and forth:
-- She wants it!
-- She's only eighteen!
-- She's beautiful! Look at that ass!
-- She trusts you. Won't this be a breach of trust?
-- Trust, shmust! She trusts you not to hurt her. Making love to her would be a good thing! If you don't fuck her, she'll feel rejected!
-- You are married! To her mother!
-- That bitch? She's probably getting laid somewhere right now!
-- Even if she is, it isn't the same. And it doesn't make this right!
-- It's just an expression of your love for her. Show her how much you love her.
-- If you love her you will turn away from this kind of thinking.
-- Bullshit! You can teach her so much more than she'll learn on her own-- at least for years.
-- Teach her, but not by demonstration.
-- Why not? It isn't incest! Not incest! Not incest!
-- ........
The angel had no reply for that. She was a woman and I was a man. She isn't my daughter, I'm only married to her mother. We do love each other. Finally the angel spoke up again, but only in a whisper as he faded out:
-- Talk to her first. Tell her you are doing this out of love, and for her own good.
I got out two more beers and slipped them into beer cozies. Naked as a newborn, and with my own towel in hand, I returned to the dock. At least my dick had subsided -- for now. We sunbathed for a while. She handed me the lotion and I rubbed some more on her back. I deliberately continued down and lotioned her delicious ass cheeks. She groaned and moved her legs a little apart. I was careful when I got to the junction of her thighs and ass. I slipped my hand down between her thighs, but made sure I didn't touch her cunt lips. I smiled to myself, knowing that I was teasing her.
I lay down and told her it was her turn to do my back. She rose to her knees at my head and began a little teasing of her own. Her crotch was right in front of my eyes. It was hot and she was sweating. She emanated the coconut aroma of the lotion. Beneath that, however, I could smell her musky, natural scent. My dick got hard again against the boards of the dock. She massaged the lotion into my shoulders. She moved then to my side and covered my back and my ass, then down my legs. She was as careful as I had been.
"Why did you shave your pubic hair?" I asked her. I'd been staring at her beautiful flower while she rubbed me.
"Most of the girls do these days, Daddy. Sheila says it makes sex better. I don't know about that. I hadn't shaved when Dave fucked me. Some girls just do it because it seems more attractive. Do you like it better shaved or hairy?"
"Definitely shaved," I replied. "It does make sex better. Especially oral sex for the guys. I always hated getting a hair stuck in the back of my throat." She laughed at that. "It's even better when both partners are shaved," I added. She glanced at me and saw I was serious.
"Is that from experience, or did you just read that somewhere?"
"I've shaved before. All last year I stayed hairless. I just got tired of the hassle and let it grow back." We launched into a discussion of shaving versus waxing or something called sugaring (I've never done either of those), how to do it best, how to avoid the bumps and rash.
"It's hard for me to get it all," she complained. "There's always some stubble down there, toward my ass."
"You could ask Sheila or somebody to help you," I suggested, knowing where I was going. She took the bait -- or maybe it was me on the hook.
"Could you help me?" she asked in a feigned innocent voice. "If you want to shave too, I can help do you, too."
"We'll see," I said. She turned over to sun her tits and belly. She handed me the tube of lotion again. I hesitated before I took it. She grinned at me, took my hand and slapped the lotion into it. "You can reach everything in front yourself, you know," I said sarcastically.
"It will be more fun if you do it, though," she said. She sat up and took a drink of her beer, burped a very unladylike belch and lay back down. I took a deep breath and began to play with my stepdaughter's tits. She spread her legs, wanting me to rub some on her cunt. I shook my head, but didn't explain why I wouldn't. I told her not to rub any lotion there herself, either.
We lay in the sun a while longer. I know she was disappointed that I didn't let her rub my front. But I insisted that she didn't. All the lotion did was to serve as a device to fondle each other, after all. As I said, the sun was almost down. When we finished our beers, I stood up and told her we should go in. She was ready, too. We walked hand in hand off the dock and up the path to the cabin. I opened the door and held it for her. She slid her hand across my belly as she walked inside. The wooden screen door slammed and we were inside. Billie crossed to the bathroom. She left the door open and in a second I heard the unmistakable sound of her peeing. Somehow it was sexy to me. By then, everything held a sexual meaning for me where she was concerned.
I was nervous. Somewhere between rising from the dock and the cabin the momentum had been lost. I grabbed another beer for myself and a pair of steaks from the fridge. Billie came out of the bathroom I asked her to season the meat while I went out to light the barbecue. When I came back she was building a salad so I set about scrubbing the potatoes. It was slightly bizarre, doing all these everyday things with her while we were both nude. We occasionally bumped hips or arms -- the kitchen corner of the large room wasn't itself very roomy. When she needed to rinse the cutting board, I was using the sink. She casually slapped me on my ass and told me gruffly to move.
"Hey!" I exclaimed. "Knock that shit off or you'll get a spanking of your own!"
"Yeah? From who?"
"Whom! From me, that's who! Or is that 'whom', too?"
"Whom cares? You can't spank me these days, I'm too strong for you." She wasn't looking at me when she said that. I reached down and smacked her cute little ass sharply. A CRACK! echoed in the air followed by a shriek from Billie. She dropped the board in the sink and came at me.
It was really no contest, and the only reason she had challenged me in the first place was to get us into physical contact again. We both knew it. Nevertheless, I grabbed her hands and twisted her into a bear hug, her back pressed up against me, her ass cheeks sandwiching my erection. When I felt the heat between her cheeks all the struggling stopped. I released her arms but she didn't move. I ran my hands down her sides and back up to cup her breasts, the nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. I dipped my head to kiss her neck and was rewarded with a sigh and her hands caressing the sides of my thighs.
She turned to me and pressed herself against me. We kissed like adults for the first time then. She accepted my tongue and sucked it hungrily. Her hands squeezed and caressed my ass and I happily returned that favor. She wrapped her arms around my neck and I cupped her ass, lifting her from her feet. Her legs wrapped around my waist and the tip of my dick felt the delicious slickness of her crotch. I carried her to my bed and lowered her to the floor and her feet once more. As she descended, my cock, which had been released on the upward trip, caught in the embrace of her crotch. She grinned at me and squeezed her thighs together. Then she fell backward onto the bed. My cock sprang free and plopped up against my belly.
I bent down and kissed her in the center of her crotch. Then I let her feel my tongue inside her (She was startled when I slipped a finger back and rubbed her asshole, but she liked that, too.). She didn't mind the taste of her juices in my kiss. She didn't reach orgasm from my mouth, but she would another time.
For her part, she wanted to feel a cock in her mouth and I was more than happy to provide mine as a study device. I told her what I liked and how to do it. She really didn't need much instruction. When my orgasm approached I warned her. She did what I suggested and lifted her head and stroked me until I shot my load. Her eyes never left off watching while the throbbing subsided and my cum just oozed down over her hand. "Most guys like it if you swallow their cum, or at least take it in your mouth," I told her. "But I suppose it's an acquired taste. I don't care for the taste of mine, unless it's mixed with pussy juice."
She looked surprised at first, but she was nothing if not game. She reached out and licked some of the milky goo from the tip of my dick. I was so sensitive right then that it felt like electricity to me. After she savored that first drop, she began to lick both my cock and her hand until we were both cleaned off. I pulled her up to kiss me and she sighed. Then I rolled her over on her belly. "What are you...?" she began, but she soon realized what I was doing. I pressed my hand to the small of her back and held her legs down with one of mine. I began to swat her.
"Ow!... Ow, dammit! Daddy! Come on! I was just kidding!" But I continued to swat her ass. While I spanked her I told her that she was never to forget that I was the boss. After twenty or so strokes, she was getting into it. She laughed and wiggled her butt, telling me to swat harder. My cock had recovered and I knew she wanted to get fucked. There was just one other thing I wanted to play around the edges of first.
I released her but didn't let her roll over yet. I moved around and lowered my head to her ass. Pressing her legs apart, I kissed her tiny anus. She gasped and tensed, then relaxed. She raised her hips up until she was on her shoulders and her knees. She spread her knees as far as she could then reached back to pry those luscious cheeks apart. There she was, totally exposed to me. I made love to her ass with my mouth and tongue. I built gradually until I was tongue fucking her ass. Her breathing speed increased and she began to gasp. After a few more minutes, her whole body tensed in orgasm. Her sphincter clutched my tongue painfully, but I kept wiggling it as she came. When she calmed down I pulled my tongue out and she collapsed to her side.
She looked at me with wonder. "I never thought...I mean, my ass, for crying out loud! I didn't cum when you ate my pussy. How come your tongue in my ass made me cum?" It turned out that, while she had heard of anal sex, she just thought it was something gay guys indulged in. She had never thought a man would put his tongue in there. Or his cock.
"Did you like it?" I asked with innocence.
"Shit, YES!" she roared. Then she pushed me to my back and straddled me. I felt the juices making my hardon slippery down there. I pulled her forward and tipped my pelvis to angle my cock toward her tight cunt. She started to reach down to guide me, but I held her hands. After only a little searching, I felt the tip of my cock begin to enter her. Her eyes got big again and she began to aid me by wiggling her own hips back and forth. I had never been in a cunt that tight. I'd never had a virgin, nor a partner this newly deflowered. It was almost as tight as her mother's ass -- at least the way I remembered it. We'd only had ass sex once, and that was five years earlier.
Finally I was all the way inside her. She breathed slowly and told me that she hadn't been sure it would all go in. Apparently Dave hadn't been well endowed. I don't think I'm overly large, but it boosted my ego to know I had the biggest dick she had seen yet. We lay there kissing for a while. She rocked on top of me, feeling my length pressing the sides of her passage. After ten minutes of that she began to rock faster. She sat up and slid rapidly back and forth until she burst into another strong orgasm.
"Did you come?" she asked. I told her I hadn't. This surprised her, too. Dave's cock had lasted a matter of a few minutes before it shriveled and flopped out of her (and out of the condom). We rolled over. I lifted her legs up so my cock would come into contact with her G-spot. I gently felt around inside her until she jumped and gasped. "That felt like a shock!" I knew I'd found it.
I moved ever so slightly in the same area as I explained what it was. She said she'd heard about it. Then she began to join me in that age-old dance. Between stroking her G-spot and pinching her nipples, I brought her through four more orgasms. Then I went for my own. She was now so used to the size of my cock, and so well lubricated that I increased my strokes, both in length and strength. I let go of her legs and she wrapped them around my hips to anchor herself. The sharp sound of our groins slapping together was loud in the room. She began to groan and whimper again as another orgasm threatened. I felt mine building again. I released my control into the feeling of rapture. I roared out my pleasure as we came in tandem. I emptied myself into her and kept stroking until all my strength had drained from me. I lay forward on her, lifting one leg over her hip to take some of my weight off. I nuzzled into her neck and I swear she purred. I fell into a dreamless sleep.
By the time I woke up it was fully dark. I raised up off her and her eyes flickered open. She smiled the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. I returned it. My cock, incredibly, was still inside her. It hadn't shrunk completely, maybe because she had been so tight. I gave her a couple of strokes. She was willing to go another round, but I was ravenously hungry. When I mentioned food she realized she, herself was starved. We separated reluctantly. I was stiff. We went to the bathroom and slipped into and out of the shower, taking just enough time to rinse off. It was still warm, so we didn't bother to dry off.
The charcoal was nothing but ash, of course, so I lit a new batch. While they got ready we ate our salads. We didn't talk much, but whenever I raised my eyes, she was looking at me. There were a lot of warm smiles passed between us. After dinner we played some more backgammon. When we went to bed, she slept next to me.
The only time we put our clothes on the rest of the week was when we had to go to the store to buy more beer. Billie didn't get drunk again, even though I gave her free rein with the beer. We swam and fished, made love and talked. The night before we were to go back home, I decided it was time to broach the subject of how things would have to be when we got home.
"You know we are going to have to be careful at home," I told her. "As much as I hate to say it, we probably shouldn't make love again when we leave here."
She nodded as she replied, "I was thinking that, too, at least not if there is any chance we'll be caught. I don't know what Mom or Allie would do if they found out."
"I know what your mom would do. She'd have my balls. We even have to be careful how we show affection. I mean we can still snuggle on the couch like always. Hugs and kisses -- on the cheek -- are okay. We've always done that." I regretted that it had to be this way, I told her. She was wise enough to know that nobody, not just her mother and sister could know. Anybody else would think we had committed some mortal sin. "You especially can't tell Sheila." I knew that disappointed her. She was aching to brag to her friend.
"It could just be that we will never have the opportunity to make love again," I said quietly. She grasped my arm. We were sitting on the porch swing when we had this conversation. She turned and buried her face in the hair of my chest. She held on to me as if she was drowning and I was her life preserver. "Don't say that, Daddy!" I petted her hair and patted her naked hip. I told her that she had her whole life ahead and lots of guys to meet, as well as maybe one (hopefully only one) to marry. "I can't think about that now," she wailed. "All I want to do is stay here in the woods with you."ou know we can't. It's a great fantasy, but that's all. Besides, you'd get tired of me and kick my ass out when I got old."
"Older," she said with a grin. I poked her in the ribs and we threatened to ruin the swing with our wrestling. I pulled her to her feet and we went inside to make dinner. We made slow careful love that night, right up until the end when we rocked and rolled like wild animals. I rubbed her sweat covered back until she went to sleep. I lay awake a long time before sleep took me. I looked everywhere inside my conscience. Search as I might, I could find no trace of guilt.
There was little conversation during the drive back home. As I pulled into the driveway I saw that Shelley's car wasn't there. I opened the door and called out but there was no answer. Apparently Allie had not yet returned from camp. I checked the schedule on the fridge and saw that she wasn't due until 9:00 that night. When I turned around I saw the note on the table.
"Dear Pete:" it began. "You know as well as I do that things haven't been right between us for a long time. The girls hate me and I know you must, too. I was happy with you at first, and I know it isn't you that makes me unhappy now. It's something inside me that will never, I think, be satisfied with what I have.
"I'm such a coward that I can't even face the girls to tell them that I love them, but I can't live with them -- or you -- any more. They love you more than me anyway, and I know you'll be good to them. You'll all be much happier with me out of the picture.
"I won't tell you where I'm going, but I have a good job there. I'll send money through a remailing service to help out. Even if you divorce me like I expect you to do. I don't know how to close this letter. I don't think I love you any more than you love me by now. Take care of them and yourself.
Shelley"
Beneath the note was a typed sheet. It was a letter granting me formal permission to seek medical treatment for Allie (since Billie was eighteen, she was technically an adult). There was also a money order. I realized the amount was just half of what Shelley's paycheck would have been that day. She was showing more consideration than I would have expected. I almost felt sad she was gone.
I collapsed into the chair by the dinner table. This was a shock. I realized that under the anger I was feeling at her desertion of her children was a profound relief. Now I had to figure out how to tell Billie, and later, Allie. Just then Billie wandered out of the hallway. She had gone to her room, tired, but alive. Now she looked like a shellshock victim. She had a piece of the same notepad in her hand. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks.
I gathered her to me and we sat there in the dining room. Her note from Shelley said pretty much the same thing mine did. I wondered if she had left one for Allie, too. I eased Billie from my lap and stood up. In Allie's room there was a similar note on the pillow. I read it. The only difference was that she had urged her younger daughter to take good care of me when Billie went off to college.
We pulled ourselves together and agreed we had to be strong for her sister. It was likely to hit her the worst. The mood was gray that evening, but I still sensed a relief in Billie similar to mine. It would have felt wrong somehow to speak of it yet, though.
When Allie came home I sat her down on the couch. I told her the situation and handed her the note. She read it silently, frowning. When she looked up at Billie and me her face smoothed out. Then she broke into a big grin! "Great! Now maybe we can have some fun around here again." I looked at Billie and she looked at me. Then the corner of her mouth twitched. Then her lips curled into a smile. I felt my own mouth bending into the same expression. I hoped Billie wasn't readjusting our relationship and the agreements we made last night. I still intended to maintain a careful discretion between us for Allie's sake.
We walked down to the ice cream parlor on the next block for a late treat. I hadn't seen Allie so animated and truly happy for a long time. I realized it must have been the hardest on her of all of us. She was just now barely thirteen. Billie had been the one to help her through her first menstruation, not me. I was glad of that. It was difficult enough for me with Billie. Allie and I didn't have the rapport that Billie and I did when she was the same age.
At home, Allie emptied her backpack in the laundry room, then went upstairs to shower. Billie and I sat side by side on the couch in the living room. We held hands, but kept a space between us. It was all too much to absorb. First becoming sexually involved with my stepdaughter, then finding myself separated and a single dad all at once. I couldn't imagine how Billie was feeling. I looked at her. When she turned to me, she fell into my lap and sobbed for a long time. I was still sitting there rubbing her back when Allie padded into the room silently. She went to her knees and hugged her sister and my legs at the same time.
"It's okay Beebee," she said in her little sister voice, "We're still a family. Mom needed to be happy, too. Now we can all be happy." That, I realized, was the bottom line. I stroked my daughters' hair as the night deepened.
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