Phoenix Rising

by Anais Ninja

  “Yes,” I replied, looking up at her. There was something funny about the way Mia was looking at me.

  “Hey,” she said. “I want to show you something. Come.” We got off the couch and I followed her out of the living room, into a room that opened off of the front hall. Like my father’s den, it was set up as an office, with a desk, electric typewriter, shelves of books, filing cabinets, a couple of chairs, and a small couch.

  “This is my office,” Mia said, closing the door and locking it. “Used to be the guest bedroom. Like it?”

  “Yes, it’s nice,” I said. Unlike my father’s office, this one was nicely decorated, with framed prints on the wall, some Indian artwork, a hand-woven rug on the floor. I looked over the bookshelves: they were filled with foreign language dictionaries and reference books, a few novels in French, Russian, and Spanish, some bound reports and looseleaf notebooks. In the corner of the room was a crib and a changing table, still in their boxes, unassembled. In a couple of months this room would be transformed from an office to the baby’s bedroom.

  I felt hands around my waist, one roaming up under my sweatshirt to my breasts, the other dipping down into my panties, cupping my mound, and a big round belly pressing against the small of my back. Then breath, warm breath on the back of my neck, a gentle kiss, the nuzzle of a nose.

  “Mia...,” I whispered.

  “Annie,” she said softly. I wanted to turn around and kiss her, but her hands on my breasts and pussy felt so nice. She dipped a finger into my moist passage, and I let out a quiet gasp as she found my clit.

  “Let me make you feel good,” she whispered in my ear.

  “Mia, you don’t have to...”

  “I want to. Please.”

  I turned around, shuddering slightly as her fingertip dragged across my hidden pearl and slipped out of my panties, taking her in my arms and kissing her, lightly at first, and then passionately. She squeezed my bottom, pulling me closer to her belly, making me bend my body to fit her new shape. Her hands roamed higher, over my back, pulling my sweatshirt up over my head, forcing me to break off our kiss. She tossed it aside and our lips met again, tongues meeting, melting together.

  Mia guided me to the couch, positioning me so that I was kneeling on the cushions, facing the wall. She stood behind me, cupping my breasts in her hands as she kissed my shoulders, working lower down my back. Her hands fell to my hips, and I felt her tugging at my panties, pulling them down my thighs. I leaned forward, leaning against the back of the couch, and presented my now bare bottom to her. She took one of the cushions and laid it on the floor, kneeling behind me.

  Mia’s hands roamed over my cheeks and thighs, and I could feel her breath on my skin, getting closer to my cleft, a cloud of warmth that foreshadowed what was to come. The fulfillment of this promise began with a tender kiss on my sex.

  “You shaved?” Mia whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “I like it. So clean,” she said. Mia kissed me down there again, and then I felt her tongue part my lips, entering me, probing me, tasting my nectar. I sighed and arched my back, spreading my thighs wider to give her access to my flower. She stroked my thighs as she licked me from front to back, pushing her tongue inside me with each repetition. I began to rock back and forth to her languid rhythm, that wonderful tingling growing inside my belly.

  She pulled me back a bit so she could reach my pearl with her tongue, using her thumb to penetrate my slit, probing my bottom with a wet fingertip. I took one hand off of the back of the couch and squeezed my breasts, flicking my fingers over my nipples as she ravished my sex. It might have been a few years since she’d last been with a woman, but Mia knew exactly what to do, reading my responses, repeating the things that made me gasp, moan, shudder. Her thumb began to move in and out of me faster as her tongue lashed my clit, making my thighs quiver and the couch shake.

  It was her hand, not her tongue, that brought me to my climax. As Mia’s thumb sawed in and out of my cunny, her fingertip penetrated my bottom, pinching the flesh that separated my two hungry holes. I grabbed the back of the couch and pushed my hips back, wanting her to probe me deeper, to push me over the edge, to bring me release. She stopped licking my pearl and concentrated on fingerfucking me, reaching around my thighs with her other hand to continue what her mouth had started. I bit my lip, trying not to cry out as I came, but the intense wave of pleasure that washed through me made that impossible. I buried my face in the back cushion of the couch and let out a quiet scream.

  It seemed as if Mia could have mad me moan and shudder all night. I had to fall sideways and stretch out along the length of the couch to get her to stop. She leaned forward and laid her head on my belly, licking my juices from her thumb until I sat up and kissed her, tasting my own nectar on her lips.

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  “My pleasure,” she replied, her slight French accent making the words sound like “Mon plaisir”. She slowly stood up and returned the cushion to the couch before heading over to the windows and opening one a few inches. The room was small, and it was filled with the scent of our lovemaking. I pulled up my panties and stood up from the couch, walking over to her, holding her from behind, kissing her graceful neck.

  “I miss watching a woman find her pleasure,” Mia whispered. “Men like Frank just grunt, squirt, and fall asleep. You looked so beautiful when you came.”

  “Thank you,” I said, kissing her again.

  “We should go back to the living room,” she said, turning in my arms and kissing me on the lips. I pulled on my sweatshirt and followed her out of her office.

  “I was wondering where you two were,” my father said. He was sitting on the living room couch, his feet up on the coffee table, a fresh drink in his hand.

  “I wanted to see her office,” I said, sitting down and crossing my legs so my panties didn’t show. Mia sat next to me and reached for her wineglass.

  “Anne wanted a French lesson,” she said.

  “Oh, did she?” my father replied.

  “Oui,” I said, taking a sip of wine. He smirked, like he didn’t really believe this sorry excuse, but he didn’t seem to be too jealous, either. Men are funny that way, willing to share their wives with another woman but turning into monsters if another man was involved. Most of them, anyway. The people Bradley and Helen partied with had no problems with something like that, so long as they could watch or join in the fun.

  “Would you like to come to work with me tomorrow?” my father asked.

  “We’re going shopping, Frank,” Mia said, even before I could reply. “Me and Annie.”

  “Oh, well then what about Tuesday?”

  “I’d like that,” I said.

  “Great.” He swirled his drink and stood up, heading back down the hallway to his office.

  “Do you think he knows?” Mia asked as soon as she heard his door close. She reached for my hand and squeezed it.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “But if he does, it seems to me that he doesn’t care.”

  “Really? Why wouldn’t he...?”

  “It’s a guy thing, Mia.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I really don’t, either,” I said. “It just is. Maybe it’s the promise of a potential ‘threesome’.”

  “No! You think he wants to...? With you? His own daughter?” Mia’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

  “No, no, no,” I said, knowing the opposite was really the truth. “I just mean in general, you know?”

  “Oh, okay,” she said, mock-fanning herself with her hand. “You had me going there for a second. I guess I understand now.” Mia took a sip of her wine.

  “Has he ever asked you about something like that?”

  “A threesome? Never. I know he looks at other women. I catch him doing that all the time. But I’m sure he’s been faithful to me.”

  “That’s good,” I said, wondering if jerking off in his daughter’s panties counted as “faithful” or not.

 
We talked for a while and then Mia excused herself, heading off to bed after giving me a quick kiss. I was tired, too, but I poured a half glass of wine and turned on the television, clicking through the channels until I decided that there was nothing on worth watching. I shut it off and sat on the couch, sipping my wine, once again wondering what life here would be like. The dog padded into the living room and climbed on to the couch, stretching out and laying his head in my lap. I petted his soft fur for a while, finishing my wine before heading off to bed. Schultzie followed me and took his place on the rug next to Dana’s bed, circling three times before curling up and yawning. Dana was fast asleep, her bedtime having arrived an hour before. She’d thrown off her covers and lay sprawled on her stomach, her nightie riding up around her slim hips, exposing her little cotton panties. I pulled off my sweatshirt and stretched out on the cot, trying not to wake her.

  Sleep didn’t come easily. I lay on the cot, staring at the ceiling, counting the glow-in-the-dark adhesive stars someone had stuck on Dana’s ceiling. I’d counted nearly a hundred when I heard the door slowly open. Through half-closed eyelids, I saw the silhouette of a man, tall, broad shoulders, wearing a bathrobe. My father. He closed the door behind him and my eyes readjusted to the darkness.

  My father stood over the beds and untied his robe, pulling something out of his pocket. Probably the panties he’d stolen from me, I thought. He wrapped them around his erection and began to slowly stroke himself, his gaze alternating between Dana’s bottom and my bare breasts. I thought about staying perfectly still, feigning sleep, but there was something inside me that made me want to reach out, to touch him, to please him, just like when I’d posed nearly naked for him out in the desert. I wanted to be his good little girl.

  My father froze when I sat up on the cot, quietly moving down to the foot of the lumpy mattress, reaching out for him, taking my pink cotton panties from his hand and exposing his hardness. I heard him swallow and clear his throat.

  “It’s just a dream, Annie,” he said, just like that first night.

  “No it’s not, Daddy.” I cupped his balls, gently squeezing them. His erection had started to wilt when he saw me sit up, but now it began to return to its former state. I wrapped my fingers around his veiny shaft and began to slowly stroke him.

  “Annie...,” he gasped.

  “Shhhh...,” I whispered. “You’ll wake her.” I saw him nod and then I leaned forward, into his crotch, parting my lips to take his hardness into my mouth. He gasped again, but said nothing as I began to suck him.

  His penis was nothing like I remembered it, but a dozen years had passed since he’d tried to get me to jerk him off while he bathed me. At that time it seemed huge, and memory had made it seem even bigger. I’d only been three years old, though, and everything seems big when you’re that age. Seeing it once again, up close and personal, it didn’t seem like the one-eyed monster anymore. I’d known bigger ones, like Robby’s or Mr. O’Hare’s.

  That’s not to say he was small. He wasn’t, in fact I’d place him above average in length and girth. He was circumcised, too, which sort of surprised me. Most of the men his age I’d known still had their foreskins, unless they were Jewish. My parents were nominally Presbyterians, though we hardly ever went to church.

  As I sunk my lips down his shaft, bathing the underside with my tongue, he stood perfectly still, not moving his hips, just letting me pleasure him with my mouth. The thought struck me that this wasn’t just my father’s penis, this was the organ that had given me life, that planted a seed in my mother’s womb. I wondered if she’d ever done this for him. She must have; I’d seen her suck Ramon’s thick tool plenty of times while my stepbrothers and I spied on their lovemaking through the hole in our closet wall. I remembered something I’d seen back then, something about the way my mother used to tilt her head as she sucked my stepfather’s cock. I began to suck my father that way, turning my head left and right as I engulfed and released his hardness. He placed his hands on my shoulders and began to rock back and forth on his feet, sliding his cock over my lips.

  “That’s right...suck me...suck Daddy’s cock...,” he whispered. Like some of the men I’d serviced when I was on the street, my father was a Talker, a man who liked to narrate the act, giving a blow-by-blow description of a blow job. I squeezed his heavy balls again and wrapped the fingers of my other hand around the base of his shaft, holding his skin taut over his glistening shaft as I sucked him. He kept rocking his hips, and I could feel his testicles start to contract and twitch, a sure sign that he was nearing his release.

  “I’m coming...I’m coming for you, baby...”

  I let out a little moan, just for his benefit, just to let him know that I was ready, ready to take his offering. His cock began to dance in my mouth, tensing up and bobbing between my lips. I pulled back and swirled my tongue over his spongy glans and suddenly he erupted, spurting his hot, thick semen into my mouth. It seemed as if he’d never stop. Jet after jet of his seed spurted from his cock, and I had to swallow twice before the flow began to wane. My father let out a deep breath and his penis began to soften. I milked the last few drops with my lips, gave his balls another gentle squeeze, and released him from my mouth, planting a tender kiss on the tip.

  “Princess...,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of my head.

  “Daddy...” I tilted my head up and his lips met mine. I opened my mouth and let his tongue inside, teasing it with my own. Unlike some men I’d known, my father didn’t seem to mind the taste of his own semen, a taste that lingered on my lips. His tongue still bore the smoky taste of the scotch he’d been drinking.

  “I love you, Annie,” he whispered, breaking off our kiss.

  “I love you, too, Daddy,” I said. He reached for the pink panties he’d taken from me, but I grabbed his wrist. “No, Daddy. Take these instead.” I released my grip and reached down to pull off the panties I was wearing, a plain white cotton pair that I’d had on all day. I handed them to him, and he immediately brought them to his nose, inhaling my scent.

  “Thanks,” he said, stuffing them in his pocket and tying his robe before turning and leaving the bedroom. I wiped a drop of semen from my breast with the panties he’d brought, a drop that had somehow escaped my lips. The undies were stiff with dried sperm, and I wondered how many times he’d used them to pleasure himself. I dropped them on the floor next to my sweatshirt and sweatpants; tomorrow I’d wash them in the sink or let the housekeeper throw them in the washer. Stretching out on the cot again, I reached for the sheets, hiding my nakedness from the luminous stars that glowed on the ceiling.

  “That was Daddy,” Dana whispered. I thought she’d been asleep.

  “Did we wake you?”

  “No. Not really. You sucked Daddy. I saw you.”

  “Yes, I did, baby.”

  “Is he going to fuck you?” Dana asked.

  “I don’t know, Dana.” Actually, I did know: I had another six days here in Phoenix, and I could feel the inevitability of it all. At some point he’d find a way to be alone with me again, and that would be that. I made a mental note to start wearing my diaphragm when I was around him.

  “What was it like?” Dana asked. “Did he come?”

  “A lot.”

  “Was he big?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you like it?”

  I thought about this for a moment before saying “Yes”.

  Dana said nothing after this. She rolled over on her side and looked at me for a while before closing her eyes and going back to sleep. I wondered what she’d been thinking. Was she jealous? Did she want to suck him, too? I thought about climbing into Dana’s bed with her, holding her, talking to her about what she was feeling, but she had school tomorrow, and I thought it would be best for her to get her sleep. We could talk the next day.

  As I closed my eyes and began to drift off to sleep, I could still taste my father’s semen in my mouth, the seed that had helped give me life. I thought about how
I’d made love to everyone now sleeping under this roof in the space of four short days. I felt like the family sex toy, the pleasure girl, satisfying frustrated parents and teaching curious children. It was keeping me awake, wondering how every single relationship of mine always led to sex. Was this my only way of relating to another human being? I felt like writing in my journal; it had been a few days since I’d written anything. Instead, I went back to counting the stars on the ceiling until I fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  Chapter Five - Tequila

  Mia woke me up with a kiss the next morning. I looked over at Dana’s empty bed, disappointed that I hadn’t had a chance to talk with her about the night before, when she’d seen me suck my father’s penis. I sat up on the creaky old cot, accepting my stepmother’s embrace, leaning my head on her shoulder as she caressed my bare back.

  “Wash up and get dressed,” she said. “I’ll get breakfast started and then we’ll go shopping.”

  “Thanks,” I said, hugging her. She stood up and headed towards the kitchen. I stretched my arms and legs before getting out of bed, pulling on my kimono and going into the bathroom. The smell of coffee brewing and bacon frying made my stomach growl with hunger, so I took just a quick shower, skipping my morning fun with the massage head.

  An hour later we were on the road in her Volvo wagon, heading towards a mall that had recently opened, looking forward to the grand opening sales. The parking lot was pretty full for a Monday morning, but we lucked out and managed to find a parking space close to the main entrance.

  Our first stop was a maternity boutique. Mia browsed through the racks, selecting a couple of dresses and blouses. I accompanied her into the fitting room, helping her try them on, giving her my honest opinion when she’d asked me what I thought. I didn’t care for much of the maternity clothes I’d seen, but the items she’d picked out were nice, almost chic, basic black, and what I now knew was Mia’s favorite color, burgundy.