Stephen Jones - Sex With Daddy

"Oh, my!" she said.

"What?"

"The weenie's stuck in there. I can't get it out!"

"You're kidding!"

"You think I'd kid about something like that? I got a foot of meat in there and I can't get it out. Oh, what am I going to do?"

It all seemed so humorous to me. Here was Sally, the girl who was always masturbating whenever she could and now she had a permanent tool in there to perform the job. I thought it was ideal for her and told her as much.

"That's fine for you to say, but what if my mom catches me? She'll kill me. Literally kill me."

I rose from my chair, crossed to where she was on the couch and knelt beside her. "Here," I said, "let me see."

Slowly, she raised her legs and bent the knees so that she was in a similar position to the one in which she had experienced such pleasure only moments before.

I had a complete view of her partially open vaginal lips and the soft tuft of silken hair that grew from the top of them.

But something happened in that moment that was more than merely wanting to help Sally out of a rather embarrassing situation. As I looked at her sexual parts, the very area of her body which had allowed her to experience such intense pleasure through her own manipulations, I wondered what it would be like to touch another woman instead of a man; what it would be like to fondle and caress organs just like mine; what it would be like to touch, knowing before I did so, the exact amount of pleasure each particular nerve end could convey, what it would be like if Sally, who knew my body as well as her own, were to go down on me, as Daddy had.

The visions of all these possible acts flashed and spattered through my mind like shadows from some macabre kaleidoscope and I actually had to shake my head to be able to concentrate on what I was about to do.

Actually, it was Sally herself who helped me the most, because she reached her hands around, gently placed her own fingers on either side of her vaginal slit, and pulled the lips as far apart as she could.

"Can you see it?" she asked.

I couldn't. Apparently in her final surge of fantastic pleasure, she had really thrust the wiener as far into her as she could.

I reached toward the lips of her vagina with trembling fingers and drew back once before taking a deep breath and assuming a more professional air. Then, I inserted one tentative finger until I was able to touch the end of the wiener. It wasn't that far inside and, by taking the top of it in two fingers of my left hand and the bottom in two fingers of my right, I was able to slowly draw it forth. But, at that point, the strange, budding fires of curiosity that had allowed their flames to lick at me before, seemed to consume me in a conflagration of perverse desire.

When the wiener was out just about an inch, I took it in my right hand and, exerting an upward pressure on it, rubbed it slowly yet definitely against Sally's clitoris as I removed it inch by delectable inch. At the same time, I touched her clitoris with the forefinger and thumb of my left hand and felt a shivering joy as she gasped her pleasure aloud. Maybe that one gasp was all I needed for I, too, was now a part of the performance. I could have taken the wiener all the way out, but I didn't. I continued using it as an artificial penis, pushing it with just the perfect rhythm in and out and never relaxing the pressure on Sally's clit.

She lay in such a way so that she could watch her own genitals being stimulated as her own hands fondled the nipples of her pert breasts. We were both fascinated by what we were doing although Sally was obviously experiencing more pleasure than I. When she spasmed into her second orgasm, she tried to pull the whole length of the wiener into her again, but I wouldn't let her. That second explosion of her pleasure shook me back to sanity and, pulling the wiener out of her entirely, I left her on the couch as I walked with it to the kitchen.

Suddenly embarrassed, I tossed the wiener into the garbage disposal, and returned to where Sally still lay gasping on the couch. It was late and Daddy was due home within the hour, so I told Sally that she had better get dressed and finish her martini before he arrived.

She just smiled at me, "I don't want the drink," she said, "I can hardly move as it is. Oh, boy, that felt great. You should have let me do you when I asked you."

Finally, with great effort, she got up and went to my room where she had left her swimsuit. I took our glasses to the kitchen where I washed and dried them and had just returned to the living room and lit another cigarette when Daddy came into the apartment.

He started toward me to throw his arms around me in our usual passionate afternoon embrace, just as Sally came out, dressed now, wearying her damp bathing suit in one hand.

Daddy seemed slightly flustered for just a second, but no more. Both he and Sally were polite to each other, but she announced that she'd better be going home because her mother might worry. With that, she crossed the room with a little wave and ambled out of the front door.

I was so stimulated and excited by all that had happened that afternoon, and doubly wanned by the one martini I had consumed, that the very moment I heard the door slam and click shut, I leaped into Daddy's arms and began to smother him with kisses.

"Hey, kitten," he said, but I wouldn't let him continue. I kissed him hard, letting my tongue play with his as one hand rubbed the smooth hard curve of his buttocks and the other slid down the form-fitting front of his body and found the growing bulge between his waiting legs.

"Oh, Daddy," I murmured into his ear. "Please, Daddy, let's fuck right now, before dinner. Let's not wait until tonight, Daddy."

With gentle, strong arms, Daddy reached over so that he held me across the shoulders and under the knees. He lifted my feet from the carpet and with slow sensuous steps, carried me first to the front door to see if it was locked, and then down the hall to the master bedroom where we had shared so much pleasure.

Our experience that afternoon was not bizarre or perverted. It was unique for I shall never forget the sensation as long as I live. I was so excited by what had happened with Sally that it seemed I couldn't stop coming.

I came the first time before Daddy was even inside me, and after that, it seemed I was on a terrible, wonderful wheel that whirred around making orgasm each time it passed a single spot.

I came four times before Daddy even came once. And, by that last shuddering time when we both writhed together in intense mutual pleasure, I was so drained and exhausted that for a moment I thought I might never want sex again.

After that afternoon affair of ours, Daddy and I took a swim together in the apartment pool, then came back and shared a martini before having dinner. Our conversation was casual and happy, but I knew that there was something definitely wrong with me. For some time, I couldn't put my finger on it, but then just before sitting down to dinner – possibly because of the second martini – I realized what it was.

Even though I had thought my multiple orgasms of just scant hours before had completely sated me, I was still wildly desirous of sexual gratification. What I still didn't realize was the fact that, subconsciously at any rate, Sally was still on my mind and I was in a state of desire for a particular gratification. What that particular form of gratification was, I still didn't know and wasn't to realize until long after I had finished cleaning the evening's dinner dishes and had joined Daddy in the living room to read.

I only began to understand what was bothering me as we both stepped into our mutual shower. It was as if, through some strange mental process, I had reverted to my childhood again for I began staring at his penis as I had years ago and I felt a wild surge of desire to take it in my mouth right then and there in the shower.