by Parker Ford
“Don’t, please,” I said softly. I could see his profile from the stark street light coming through the window.
“Jen--”
“Please, Gil. I’ll just stay here. Stay here with me. Maybe he’s just come to get his stuff. It’s only fair that we let him.” I touched his arm again, running the tip of my finger along the bulge of his muscle.
I watched him clench his jaw and war with himself. Let Carl sneak out like a coward or go kick his ass for fucking me over. I leaned up and kissed his bicep, his shoulder. “Jen,” he said again.
“Come on. Stay with me.” I put my hand in his lap and felt the bulge of his hard-on under my hand. Gil kissed me, his hands in my hair. He pushed me back and kissed me harder.
“On one condition,” he said. His fingers found their way between my legs and he slipped one in me, then another.
“What’s that condition?” I gasped, moving up under him, parting my legs so he could feel my urge to be with him again.
He didn’t answer me, just grunted, moving himself between my legs, slipping the head of his cock to my pussy. Gil’s lips crushed down on mine and his tongue was hot and sweet on mine. He slipped into me with no effort at all, I was that ready for him. The head of his cock hitting my G-spot when I bowed up under him to get him deeper.
“He’ll come and he’ll go and we’ll be in here together,” I said, touching his face, his lips. He nipped at me and I yelped softly, his cock driving deeper, his fingers biting into me.
“That fucker doesn’t get to come,” Gil said in my ear.
It was on the tip of my tongue to remind him that I had been going down on him while Carl had been fucking Tammy, but he tilted my ass up just enough that the tip of him tripped the bundle of nerves deep in my cunt and I came, pushing my teeth to his shoulder, muffling my own cries of pleasure. “Yes, Gil,” I said instead.
He grunted again, pulling out and for an instant my heart broke and I thought he was getting up to leave. Instead he turned me onto my belly and hiked me up on my knees by my hips. “Spread your legs,” he growled and I opened myself to him. “Put your head down, Jen,” he said and one hand pinned me at the small of my back, one hand pinned my head, pushing it low so my ass stuck up and I was bowed at his mercy.
I wondered wildly a racing thrill shooting through me. Had he fucked my mother like this? Did I look different or the same? How different did we feel? Was I better? And god, had he ever thought of me this way under him before tonight? Had he had these thoughts for years and years the way I had--I wasn’t brave enough to ask.
Gil’s hand pushed me hard and I shook under him, pushing back to take his cock. I balanced on my forehead and his fingers caught and tangled in my bed head wild hair. His fingertips blanched my skin and I sighed when he said, “Touch yourself for daddy.”
The word made my whole body tremble. Daddy had been a joke between us. I’d called him dad but never daddy. Not seriously, anyway. I had called him that tongue in cheek and he’d called himself that in the same manner. So when he said it, my nipples peaked and my stomach tingled and I reached under myself, tickling my clit with my fingertip. Not touching too hard because he had me so worked up that if I did, I’d come. And I didn’t want to come just yet.
“Yes, daddy,” I said, and smiled. My face pressed to the mattress and him ramming into me so I scooted forward millimeter by millimeter. I heard soft furtive sounds in the house and wondered if it was just Carl getting his stuff or if Carl was eavesdropping on us.
The cruel and twisted part of me hoped he was.
“Good, good, girl. I’m going to come soon,” he said, his voice so soft it was just another fragile furtive sound in the house. I had to struggle just to hear him in the silent home. “And I want you to come with me. Will you come with me, pretty girl? I’m going to come because of this sweet pussy,” he said and I felt my skin erupt in goose bumps. I was nodding and then realized that he couldn’t see me.
I said “I will. I will come with you.”
“Sweet, sweet pussy,” he said again. He moved his hand from my head and pushed a finger into my ass. A slow, subtle stinging pinch that lit my lower half with a the sparkle and bite of pain. But his cock slammed into me harder, nudging and pushing the plump folds of my cunt and his finger only amped up that pleasure with a hint of pain.
“Oh, Gil,” I said, my face pressed to the bed.
“Who?” His finger slipped in and out of my back hole, his cock in and out of my cunt and his voice was a raspy kiss in the dark.
“Daddy,” I said.
“Oh, daddy, that’s good.”
He stilled, thrust hard, grunting lowly and squeezing my flesh so hard I saw stars in the dark. “Come on then,” he sighed.
When he came, I came with him, my fingers flying on my clit, the word daddy on my lips.
He curled me into him, whispered in my hair. “It was so, so hard for me to see you with him that first night. But I couldn’t look away.”
A jolt of excitement and surprised fire off inside of me even though I was half asleep. He had been there. I hadn’t been imagining it.
* * * *
I heard a bang out in the house. I heard a shuffle and a drag and a grunt. I knew it was Carl leaving. Probably drunk. Carl tended to do things he did not think he could be forgiven for and then drink himself into a stupor. I had surprised him for nearly a year by forgiving him anyway. Now I would simply let him go. Carl was free. I didn‘t wish him ill, but I was done with him. I was pretty sure he was done with me, too. And that was fine by me.
I listened to the back door and then the very distant but distinct rattle and slam of the back gate. The dog three doors down, who usually slept through as he was old (had been when I was a teenager and was still around), set to barking. I wondered in my blissed out, mostly asleep state if Carl was walking or if Tammy the trollop had driven him home and was waiting for him. Her old Ford smoking in the cool night air. Classic rock whispering in the maroon interior.
I turned so that I was tucked into Gil’s arms, my head under his chin. My mouth breathing warm breath on his neck. I felt the salt and pepper stubble on his cheeks rasp against my forehead. I felt his heartbeat thumping in his tone body. His fingers swept back and forth, back and forth, a mesmerizing caress along my back. I thought of him buried in me, moving in me, taking me. I bit my lip and shivered and he whispered, “Are you cold?”
“No,” I said and shook my head.
“Go to sleep,” he said and tucked me against him just a bit more. A little closer, a little warmer. The air conditioner kicked on and I heard the whistle and whir of the forced air in the vents.
“Okay.” And I shocked myself by falling asleep.
I heard the phone ring once. Heard him mutter and murmur. Heard him hang up. It was like coming up from a deep dive. I swam to the surface of consciousness, pushing away the murk of sleep. But when he stopped talking the nonsense words I could not make out, I let the tide of sleep drag me back under a bit. I opened my eyes to his broad, naked back. To him running his hand through his dark hair. I watched him stress, my eyelids weighing heavy. The sun wasn’t up yet, the sky was not yet light. The air was a heavy periwinkle I always associated with pre-dawn. Air colored so that I felt safe and warm and tucked away. The way I imagine a child swaddled just so would feel. I let myself drop back under the purple blanket of sleep but as I drifted I heard Gil whisper “I can’t do this.”
A flower of fear blossomed in the pit of my belly but my tired body wouldn’t have any of it and I fell back into a dream where Gil and I ran on a beach that seemed to have no end under a sun the color of lemons and the warmest breeze I’d ever felt. Too warm and perfect to be real.
Chapter 12
The phone rang again. A blaring, bleating, shameful sound that made me want to find a baseball bat and beat the shit out of the fragile bit of plastic. Another ring and I groaned, the sunlight blaring like loud music through the window.
One more ring and I heard th
e machine cut on. The shower was rushing and racing on the other side of the wall so I knew Gil was in there getting clean. I wanted to tiptoe in there and slip into the hot steam and water that would turn me bright red, I knew. I sat up to do just that when my mother’s voice rushed over me, felling me like a downed tree.
“Gil? It’s Marian?” she said it like it was a question. Like she wasn’t sure if it was her or not. “Gil? Pick up.”
I picked up. Fire and anger and rage growing in me like an uncontrollable force. “Mother?”
“Jennifer! Oh, hello, honey. I was calling for Gil.”
“I know that mother.” The indignation in my voice swelled like a red wave.
“He called--”
“I’m in his bed, mother.” My voice was a slide of brittle words. All my hurt and all my ire, all directed at her. For leaving Gil, for leaving me. For walking off as if we were so insignificant. No more important than cheap flip-flops purchase for the beach and then forgotten there. “Or should I say your bed? We’ve been together.”
“Jennifer!”
“And when I say together, I mean in the biblical sense,” I said and laughed. It was a short brutal ugly laugh. If it had a color it would have been muddy yellow. “He fucked me. More than once.”
I heard her silence like a loud drum being beaten. It was crushing and overwhelming in its completeness. On the other side of the wall the shower cut off. “Jennifer,” she said again, as if I were squeezing all the air out of her. “Gil called and--”
That made me see red, quite literally. Anger so consuming the light in the room was swallowed. I heard the sink, the door, the movement of a handsome man I was swiftly letting myself fall for after all these years. Why had he called her? Why? Wasn’t she gone yet? If she was leaving us shouldn’t she just fucking leave and be done with it. Not calling Gil from some unknown place with some unknown person doing some unknown shit that did not involve her husband and her daughter.
“I don’t care if he called you. I’m telling you don’t call here anymore. You don’t live here anymore,” I said. “You chose for things to be that way Marian, so you can go fu--”
The phone was removed forcibly from my hand and Gil pressed it to his ear, murmured, “I’ll call you back.” He set the phone in the base and turned to me, his face angry and stark.
“Gil, I--”
“What the hell was that?”
“I can’t stand that she called you,” I stammered.
“She’s my wife,” he said and I could tell that they way he said it was to hurt me. He was annoyed with my behavior and my actions. I had seen it many, many times in my youth, I knew the look of Gil’s discontent when I saw it.
My cheeks flamed hotly and I stiffened, my shame turning swiftly to anger. “Well, by all means, have her back. Fuck her again and again. Do you make her call you daddy in bed, too?” I said before I could stop myself.
His hand was a blur and his open palm connected with my cheek where a blossom of heat and pain sprang up. “Shut up, Jennifer. Stop now while you can.”
I stared at him, rubbing my cheek. The anger at my mother, the hurt, the pain and now the physical sting of his retribution all came crashing down around me and though I tried to stave it off, I burst into tears and started to shake.
“Jennifer.”
I bolted past him, hurled myself into the shower. The steam in the bathroom was still cottony around my face. Gripping at me with fingers of thick, muggy hair. I turned the spray on hot and full force and cried my way through a Silkwood worthy scrub down. My skin sizzled, hot and raw from my scrubbing and when I opened the bathroom door, he stood there. Gil slouched against the wall in nothing but his old favorite jeans and a grim look.
I tried to walk past him and he almost let me. At the last minute, his strong arm lashed out, quick like a snake and he caught me up. Hauled me back. Held me to him. He said right up against my ear so I broke out in goose bumps. “You shouldn’t have done that, little girl.”
“I hate her!” I said. I felt young and petulant and petty to boot. I wanted to be mature and older and wiser and all of the things I had thought I was upon returning home to Pleasant Parks. Instead I sounded like a pissy little girl who hadn’t gotten her way.
“I know it, girl. And I don’t blame you.” His hand was on my towel, right at the top of my thigh and despite my anger it set my body on edge with arousal. A slow steady thump of blood and desire started in my pussy and I struggled to focus on his words.
“And I hate you for wanting her back.”
“What? I don’t want her back.”
“Liar!”
His face drew down in anger then and he shook his head, his chin banging the side of my face. It was a gesture I could more feel than see, one familiar to me. Something Gil did when he was quietly angry. “Don’t call me a liar, Jen.”
“I heard you,” I practically spat. “This morning. When you said you couldn’t do this. And then you got up and then she said you called and--”
“Jennifer,” he said, his voice warning me to tread softly.
I never listen.
“And now you are lying to me,” I said, my voice hard. I would rather focus on my anger than my pain.
“That’s enough,” Gil said.
“Said the liar,” I hissed.
He grunted then. A short burst of noise as if to say time to get the job done, then and he levered me forward at the waist with one smooth shift of his arm. My towel fell forward and then open. His hand came up the back of my legs, burrowing under my towel and then pushing it out of the way. The first blow sounded like a dry stick breaking and then I yelled. Anger and shock and outrage flowing over me like a brush fire in a dry forest.
“What the fuck!”
“Hush up, girl. I’ve had just about enough of you mouth.” The second blow landed and fire ate up my flesh, then. Or so it felt. A quicksilver of pain that skittered over the skin of my ass and down the backs of my legs. “I think the only way to get any sense into you right now is through your hide,” he said. His voice was all cigarettes and campfires and good whiskey on a cold night.
My face burned with shame and rage but my ass burned with sparkling pain and my cunt flexed up, wet and despicably aroused. “Gil,” I gasped.
“Shut up.” Another four blows, alternating with a maddening patience. Not hard enough to truly harm me but way harder than anyone’s version of a playful swat.
When we reached ten, I hung from his arm, my belly crushed over his forearm. The air tore in and out of my throat and my stomach sizzled with a sensual mixture of pleasure and pain. Before I could grumble or bitch, he pushed his fingers into my pussy, flexing them against the swollen eager parts of me. “Oh,” I said.
“Yes, oh. Someone enjoyed that way too much.”
“Was it you?” I asked, not ready to let go of my bratty self just yet.
He gave me another hard blow but kept his fingers deep in my pussy. He blessed me with a hybrid of punishment and reward. “Hush.”
“Yessir,” I said. As I’d been raised. As I had addressed him from time to time when I was much younger.
“There’s her manners,” he said and slowly started to fuck me with his fingers. When I squirmed and danced in the hallway, the towel flapping around me like sea green wings, he pushed me down on the cold wooden floor and spread my legs. “She does have manners after all,” he muttered, sucking my nipple into his mouth and biting it hard enough for me to curve up under him. My body curling toward him though my instinct was to move away.
His fingers still buried deep, he moved to the other nipple, biting little pink circles over my nipple, over my clavicle. Between my breast and down my side until I was panting like I had been running. His fingers flexed and moved and thrust until that first sweet burst of orgasm rose up in me and I came, clutching at him, moving my flesh to his mouth. “Now she’s a good girl,” he said softly and kissed me.
I held onto him like he was a mirage. I gripped him tight for
fear of losing him. I had just gotten him. Wasn’t even sure I had him. She could not have him back. “Don’t go. Don’t go back to her,” I begged.
He laughed softly, unbuttoning in his jeans, running the ruddy and heated tip of his cock to my pussy. Spreading my own moisture along my outer lips, ringing me with heat. “See, Jen, you’d be a dangerous creature if you listened when you should.”
“What?”
“Shush,” he said, putting his fingers to my lips.
“Tell me, tell me,” I said desperately even as I moved up to meet his body. Letting him slip into me slowly but surely.
“She called and I told her I didn’t want to talk. Then I called her back when you were gone. I left a message that it was done. She wanted to come back.” He moved into me languidly. Slipping deep and then pulling back, over and over so that I felt like I would weep or laugh. I wasn’t sure which.
“She wanted to come back,” I echoed, my body betraying my damaged emotions by contracting with euphoria and pleasure. I clenched my pussy tight even as I clenched my teeth at his words.
“But I said no. When I said I couldn’t do this, I meant lie. When I left it was to put it to an end.”
Gil thrust deep, rocked his hips from side to side, pinned me with is bulk and kissed me with his soft lips. I came like a firecracker bursting on a hot summer night. My body clamping tight around his seeking cock, my mouth pressed hard and determined to his mouth.
“Say no, say no,” I said, though he had already explained that was what he’d done. All I kept hearing in my head was that she wanted to come back. My mother wanted to come back. Marian wanted to come back. His wife wanted to come back.
He pushed his fingers into the strands of hair that stuck to my forehead. He cupped my head and kissed me gently, moving against me in lazy seesaw motions, his face intent. “See, you’re not listening again. I did.”
I nodded, gripping his trim hips with my fingers, digging them in so that I held him tight and true. “Good. Good.”
“I want this. I want to see where this goes. I want you, Jenny. I want you,” he gasped, thrusting faster, his rhythm more intense now. I wrapped my legs around his waist and sucked his finger into my mouth. I licked the tip with my tongue and sucked it hard enough to make him grunt and then he was coming. His free hand shoved under my ass, lifting me. He came and I relished ever cry of pleasure from his lips. Because I had done that.
