by Anais Ninja
“What did we just do?” he said.
“You fucked me, Daddy,” I replied. “You fucked me really good.” I sat up on the couch and looked at him. He had a strange, distant expression on his face.
“What did we just do?” he repeated, returning to the couch and taking another swig. I took the bottle from his hand and took a drink.
“Daddy,” I said, snuggling against him and running my hand over his hairy chest. “I wanted this. You wanted this. What’s wrong with that?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “It feels so wrong now.”
“Post coitum omne animal triste est,” I said. It was something Julia had taught me, when she’d tried to introduce me to the classics.
“What the fuck does that mean?” my father asked.
“It means ‘you feel like shit after you fuck’,” I told him. He laughed and put his arm around me, hugging me. I handed him the bottle.
“Enough of this,” he said, placing the tequila on the floor. “We’ve got to get up early tomorrow morning.”
“I know what you meant,” I said.
“About what?”
“If you fucked Mia like this she’d end up in the hospital.”
“What, you didn’t like it?”
“I loved it, Daddy,” I said, kissing his bicep. “But I’m not seven months pregnant.”
“I see your point.”
I wanted to talk to him about his cunnilingus technique, too, but I decided not to press the issue. There would be time for that. I cuddled with him for a few minutes and then got up, gathering my clothes from the floor. Then I went over to him and sat in his lap, kissing him.
“I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too, princess. Still want to come to the office tomorrow?”
“Yes, I’d like that,” I said.
“Okay, I’ll wake you up tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
I kissed him again and slipped my dress over my head, not bothering to do the zipper. When I left him, he was getting up from the couch, heading towards the desk, to the pile of photographs he’d taken of me. He’d just snapped away, and we hadn’t bothered to watch them develop. There would be time for that, too. I walked across the hall to Dana’s bedroom and took off my clothes, taking a quick shower before going to bed. Dana was sound asleep and I watched her for a while, wondering how old she’d be before my father would take her, opening her little cunny with his hard cock. Then I laid back on the cot and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
* * *
Chapter Six - Atomic Dog
My father woke me up early the next morning, before anyone else in the house was awake. I dressed quietly, trying not to wake Dana, and we left in his Cadillac, heading to a local diner for breakfast. My father looked tired, his eyes bloodshot behind his dark sunglasses.
“Are you okay, Daddy?” I asked him.
“Fucking hung over,” he muttered. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I hadn’t had nearly as much to drink as he had, and before I went to sleep I took two aspirin and washed them down with a tall glass of cold water, something Julia had taught me.
The diner was part of a truck stop, the parking lot filled with big rigs and pickup trucks. We had a greasy breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns, and strong coffee. My father’s eyes began to clear, and he began to perk up, especially after his second cup of coffee and a couple of Tylenol. He even managed to flirt with the waitress, a buxom young woman with a name tag that read “MADGE”. They seemed to be on a first- name basis.
My father’s office was in the first floor of a building downtown, a nicely furnished space with a dozen desks and architectural models of the local communities his company developed. He was one of the more senior members of the sales staff, so he had his own office, a fairly large glass-walled room with a big desk, a couple of chairs, and a comfortable couch. While he made some phone calls and looked over some paperwork I sat on the couch and read magazines, watching his co-workers filter in as the work day began.
My father took pride in introducing me to everyone, the secretaries, the other sales people, and the executive vice president, a tall blonde woman named Krystal. I stood up from the couch to greet her and she smiled and shook my hand. She wore a pale blue skirt suit, the gold buttons bearing the logo of an exclusive designer label, and her hair was perfectly coifed, not a single strand out of place.
“We still on for lunch, Frank?” she asked my father.
“Sure thing, Krys,” he said. “One o’ clock?”
“Perfect,” she replied. “I want to swing by the model home at Corazon afterwards and make sure the contractors finished the landscaping.”
“Not a problem,” he said, checking his appointment book. “My afternoon’s free, anyway.”
“Great. I’ve got a meeting with Max, so I’ll come by and get you when I get out.”
“See you then,” my father said.
“Pleasure to meet you, Anne,” she said, taking my hand again.
“Thank you, Ma’am.” She winked at my father and left his office.
The morning went by pretty quickly. We drove out to a new development and met a young couple who was buying their first home. Unlike Rancho Paradiso, this place wasn’t built around a golf course, and the homes were smaller, “entry level” was the phrase my father used. I watched as he showed a new home to these people, taking them on a tour of the house, discussing financing options, and then driving them around the area, showing them the local schools, the shopping center, the nearest hospital. The woman was pregnant, and just starting to show. Her husband looked like some kind of scientist or engineer, white shirt, horn-rimmed glasses, closely cropped hair, trousers just a bit too short. What really impressed me was the way he held his wife’s hand the whole time; you could tell that they were deeply in love. I couldn’t help but smile the whole time we were with them.
After we drove them back to their car, my father and I headed back to his office. I amused myself by playing around with one of the office’s computers, a new IBM PC. Nobody in the office knew how to use it yet, but there was a stack of manuals next to it. The one on the top of the heap was a spiral-bound softcover with “DOS 1.0” printed on the front. I kept it open in my lap and started typing commands from the reference section.
“Whoa, how’d you do that?” someone behind me asked after I typed “DIR” and got a list of files to scroll up the screen.
“I just typed this,” I said, repeating the command. A couple more people got up from their desks and came over, and I saw Krystal walking into the office, her meeting finally finished.
“We should hire you,” Krystal said, standing behind my seat, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “We need a computer wiz around here.”
“I’ve never used one before,” I said. “Besides, I’m only fifteen.”
“I was waiting tables in Taos when I was your age,” she replied. “Come, let’s grab your father and get some lunch.” I closed the manual and followed her into my father’s office. He was on the phone, but he cut the conversation short, grabbed his blazer, and we headed out to eat, driving off in my father’s convertible.
We ended up at a steak house, dining among a lunchtime crowd of businessmen and businesswomen, with a few well-dressed tourists here and there. Krystle and my father ordered martinis first and a glass of white wine for me. They talked shop most of the time, though Krystle was interested to know whether I’d be moving from Boston to Phoenix soon. I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, but I said I might do so. My father smiled and took another sip of his drink.
Conversation tapered off when the food arrived. My father had ordered a steak, bloody rare, with a baked potato on the side. Krystle and I just had salad, and she mentioned to me how hard it was to keep her figure once she reached her thirties.
“You’ve got a lovely figure,” I said. She was tall and slender, almost my father’s height, statuesque.
“That’s so nice of you
to say,” Krystle said, taking my hand and squeezing it. Her nails were perfectly manicured, painted a shade of pale blue that matched her suit, and for the first time I noticed her wedding ring, an ornate gold band on her left ring finger. “Such a polite girl you have, Frank,” she added. My father just smiled and nodded, and then he turned and raised his hand, trying to get the waiter’s attention.
They had another round of drinks and some coffee before the check came. Krystle pulled a company credit card from her Louis Vuitton purse, paid for the meal, and we left the restaurant, heading to the Corazon development. It was a lovely day, not too warm, and we drove there with the top down. Despite the wind, not a single hair on Krystle’s head was out of place when we arrived. She checked herself in the vanity mirror as my father walked around the car to open her door.
“We’re just going to be a few minutes, Annie,” my father said. “Why don’t you wait in the car.”
“Sure,” I said, and I watched them walk around the house, inspecting the sod, the shrubs, the lawn that abruptly turned to desert scrub about fifty feet behind the house. Then they disappeared behind the house.
A few minutes became a few more minutes, and a few minutes after that I was wondering where Krystle and my father had gone. The sun had been blocked by a fluffy bank of clouds, and the light breeze that had felt so wonderful began to chill my skin. I looked around, wondering if they’d gone to check some other house’s landscaping, but they were nowhere in sight.
I got out of the car and began to walk around the house. No one. I could see a light on in a second floor window and the sliding door that led inside from the patio was slightly ajar. I went inside, coming into a brand new kitchen, the refrigerator still bearing a manufacturer’s sticker that advertised its features. There was furniture in the living room, leased by my father’s company, but you could tell that no one was living here. The house lacked those personal touches, a photo on the wall, coats in the hall closet, keys on the table by the door.
I thought I heard a thump above the ceiling, on the second floor, so I slowly walked up the carpeted front stairs, hearing another thump and the distinctive sound of a woman in the throes of her climax. As I walked down the hallway I could hear the squeaking of bedsprings, too, as well as the woman’s more unique cries and moans. It was coming from a room at the end of the hall. The door was slightly open, just a couple of inches, and I peeked through the gap.
“Oh, fuck, Frank...fuck me...fuck me...” It was Krystle, laying on her back on the bed, her legs in the air while my father laid over her, pounding her snatch with his hard tool. He said nothing; he just grunted as he pumped her pussy, the muscles in his back and legs flexing with each thrust, her big round tits jiggling with each movement of his hips. She started to come again, bucking and writhing on the bed beneath him, but he just kept pounding away with no sign that he was even close to his release. My eyes were glued to his flexing buttocks, and the swinging of his heavy balls with each thrust began to hypnotize me.
“For fuck’s sake, Frank,” Krystle gasped, “aren’t you done yet?”
“Getting close...,” he grunted.
“Hurry up,” she said. “I’m starting to get dry down there.”
“Getting...,” my father repeated. “And...there.” His back and legs tensed up, his hips shuddering as he gave one last thrust, burying his cock inside Krystle’s snatch and filling it with his seed. Then he collapsed on top of her, exhausted. Krystle traced lazy circles on his back with her long fingernails. Then she turned her head towards the door.
“Shit, Frank! She saw us!” Krystle hissed, her eyes widening. “Get the fuck offa me!” My father turned his head in my direction, but he made no movement to climb off of Krystle’s nude body.
“Relax, relax,” he said. “Annie, get in here. Get in here.”
I slowly opened the door and stepped inside. My father rolled off of Krystle and laid down next to her, his cock now soft and glistening as it dangled across his thigh. Krystle grabbed a corner of the sheet and held it across her breasts, but the rest of her remained exposed. Her legs were still spread, and I could see my father’s cum starting to drip from her vagina.
“Sit down, Annie,” my father ordered, motioning towards the foot of the bed. I walked over and took a seat, directly across from Krystle’s leaky snatch. There was silence for a minute while my father and I looked at each other. I felt a complicated mix of emotions; fear that I had been caught watching them while they fucked, anger at my father for fucking this woman behind Mia’s back, and a bit of jealousy as well. That semen dripping from Krystle’s pussy should have been mine. I’d put my diaphragm in that morning hoping that my father and I could be together again, even if we had to do it on the hood of his car out in the desert. That sperm should have been oozing out of my pussy, not hers.
That I didn’t feel any guilt over fucking my father without his pregnant wife’s knowledge was due to my having slept with her, too. My father knew it as well, and besides, we were family. It wasn’t like fucking some helmet-haired woman who probably had breast implants. It was family, my family.
“Ask her what she saw, Frank,” Krystle said, finally breaking the silence. There was a brittle edge to her voice.
“She saw everything, Krys,” he said. “Isn’t that right, Annie?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I said, looking down at my lap. I tried to concentrate on the pattern on my new sundress, but I couldn’t help but glance over at Krystle and the warm stream of semen that leaked from her sex.
“You’re not going to tell anyone, right?” he asked me.
“No, Daddy.”
“Krystle’s married, too, so you have to think of her as well.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“That’s it, Frank?” Krystle said. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What else do you want me to do?” he replied. “Bribe her?”
“I don’t know,” she said, drawing the sheets tight over her big boobs.
“Annie won’t tell,” my father said. “We’ve got our own secrets, right kitten?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I replied, surprised that he’d alluded to what we’d done in front of this woman. His mistress.
“Frank, no,” she said. “You didn’t...”
“We did,” he laughed. I felt myself begin to blush.
“Frank, that’s sick,” Krystle said.
“Oh, fer chrissake,” he replied. “You were fucking a farm hand when you were her age.”
“He wasn’t my father,” Krystle said, quietly.
“Yeah, but isn’t my little girl sexy?” he asked.
“Frank...”
“Come on, Krys. You swing both ways. What do you think of her?”
“Frank, you can’t be serious,” she said.
All this time I kept my eyes fixed on a spot between Krystle’s legs, her petals, the river of sperm, her neatly trimmed bush. She was reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the table next to the bed when I felt the strongest compulsion to start licking up the semen that leaked from her pussy. I couldn’t resist. That cum was mine. I wanted it.
She was about to light her cigarette when I turned and leaned over between her legs, extending my tongue and lapping up the cream that oozed from her slit, licking her with long, scooping strokes of my tongue, drinking the semen that should have been dripping from my cunny. She let out a startled little scream and the unlit cigarette fell from her lips, landing between her breasts.
“Oh...stop...stop it...,” she protested, pinning me between her thighs and rocking her hips back and forth, trying to escape my probing tongue. I held fast, gluing my lips to her pussy, relentlessly licking up my father’s cream from her cleft. I felt my father moving on the bed next to us, and then he was unzipping my dress, slipping his hand inside, stroking my back as I assaulted Krystle’s slit with my mouth. By the time I had liberated my father’s semen from her sex, she’d relaxed her thighs and stopped resisting, her hips now moving to bring her clit in contact w
ith my tongue.
Krystle’s little button wasn’t so little; it was swollen to the size of the tip of my pinkie finger. I lashed it with my tongue, my anger at her channeled into hunger now. I wanted to make her come, to control her body with pleasure, to conquer her. I almost wished I had that strap-on Julia had bought for me. I wanted to fuck Krystle like my father had just done.
I felt his hands tugging at the straps of my dress, pulling them off of my shoulders, unhooking my bra, tugging my panties down over my legs. After he undressed me, he held me by the hips and lifted my lower body up so I was now kneeling between Krystle’s legs as I sucked and licked her clit. Suddenly I felt his tongue on my cleft, licking me up and down like a dog again. He slobbered over my cunny, wetting it, probing my slit, my bottom. Krystle began to come again as I swirled my tongue over her pearl, her thighs quivering as she pressed them against my arms. I looked up and watched her knead her tits, pinching each nipple as her flat belly began to tense and ripple, her eyes closed, her mouth open, forming a silent “O”. Then she let out a long, low scream and sat up, forcing my mouth away from her sex. She grabbed me by the arms and pulled me on top of her, away from my father’s busy tongue.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, pressing her lips against mine, pulling me against her breasts. Our tongues met, and she managed to reclaim the last traces of my father’s cum that lingered in my mouth. She broke off the kiss and looked over my shoulder at something. I turned to look as well: my father was standing at the foot of the bed, hard again, slowly stroking his shaft. Krystle slipped her legs in between mine and opened them, exposing my wet sex to him. My father climbed on to the bed and kneeled behind me, hovering over me and Krystle, his hardness bobbing between his legs.
“Do it, Frank,” she urged. She had a look of pure animal lust in her eyes, a look I’d seen on my father’s face, too. Insatiable.
“Hold her, Krys,” he said, pressing the tip of his cock against my labia. It was a difficult angle with my body flat against Krystle’s, but he found the right spot on the second try and entered me, filling my sex with his hard meat. Krystle wrapped her arms around me, crushing me against her big breasts and holding me fast as my father hovered above the two of us, supporting himself on his hands and knees, pushing his veiny shaft inside my cunny. It felt so wonderful, and I wanted to cry out with delight, but Krystle silenced me with a kiss.
