by Felix Baron
After his three-day stint in the City, the open-fly incidents had faded from his mind and he’d convinced himself that he’d spied on Penny scratching herself, not masturbating. He was home on time on Friday and was treated to a dozen oysters, two lobster tails, duchess potatoes and a Greek salad. He had a new book about one of his favourite historical characters, Sir Richard Francis Burton, the translator of The Arabian Nights. Penny brought him a scotch and took up her usual place opposite him, but wearing both the top and bottom to her pyjamas for a change. As Rolf’d shed no more than his jacket, tie and shoes, the scene was totally respectable.
Even so, at some point, he nodded off. He was woken by a delicious but alarming sensation, that he denied was possible. His eyes cracked open. He hadn’t been dreaming. Penny was kneeling by his side. She’d unzipped his fly. His cock was cradled between her hands, being gently stroked and closely inspected.
He dared not let her know he was awake. If she knew, he’d have to react. What on earth would could he do? There was no appropriate response to the situation. What could he do that wouldn’t destroy his relationships with both Penny and her mother? His eyes closed. Rolf did the only thing he possibly could, under the circumstances. He denied that anything was happening.
Twenty-three
Rolf might have been in denial about waking up to find his innocent young stepdaughter playing with his cock, but his cock wasn’t. Despite his mental commands, it thickened and lengthened under the manipulation of Penny’s slender fingers. Her face, as much of it as he could see through slitted eyes, was rapt, as if she was witnessing a miracle. Her eyes glistened. Her lips were slack. She wet them with a pink and pointed tongue. Her head moved closer. Rolf held his breath. If those virginal lips were to touch his cock – he didn’t know what he’d do.
His shaft was so stiff it resisted when she tried to bend it towards her. Penny’s right hand worked his foreskin. She spat into her left palm and glossed her spit over his dome. Rolf clenched his sphincter and ran the periodic table through his head. She’d get bored with her obscene game, or grow nervous of waking him. If she stopped now and left the room, he’d be able to pretend that it hadn’t happened. If she stopped now. Or now!
Penny didn’t stop. She smiled, a knowing little smile, and pumped harder. He could feel his shaft throbbing in her hand. Whatever, he had to hold back. He had to.
Penny murmured, ‘I know you’re awake, Rolf.’
Inside his head, he screamed. What his willpower had failed to do, the sudden shock achieved. Overwhelmed by his guilt about what she was doing to him, his cock softened.
Penny sighed a disappointed ‘Oh!’
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded.
‘I was curious.’
‘Are you mad?’
‘Perhaps I am, with desire for you, Rolf.’
‘I’m your mother’s husband, your step-father.’
She drawled, ‘Yes. Forbidden fruit, right, Rolf? You know what they say about that. Am I forbidden fruit, to you? Does that make me more desirable? I hope it does.’
‘This is crazy.’
‘Am I bad, Rolf, really bad? If I am, I should be punished. Will you punish me, Rolf?’
She stood. For the first time since her perverted caresses had woken him, Rolf realised that she’d discarded the pants to her pyjamas. Her legs, her incredible long legs, were bare. They were within his reach. Rolf knew, and the knowledge terrified him, that if he reached out and stroked her thigh, she’d welcome the caress.
She threw herself flat across his lap. ‘Punish me, Rolf. Spank me. Make it hurt!’
He hated, desired, loved her. There was relief in his mixed emotions. He’d desired Penny, and had been tormented by the shame of that. That she desired him made his guilt less. Guilt shared is guilt halved. Guilt punished is guilt dissolved. There was nothing he could do about his own guilt, but he could assuage Penny’s.
In compassion, in anger, his hand rose – and it fell. The clap of his palm on her bottom’s smooth cheek shocked and inspired him. He slapped again, and again. Penny writhed. Her legs flailed, but none of her wriggles was so violent as to dislodge her.
At the sixth blow, she screamed, ‘Harder!’ and infuriated him. If she wanted harder, then harder was what she’d get. The blows that he’d been pulling, despite his anger, rained down with furious force. Her body stilled and tensed. She started to pant, short sharp breaths that came faster and faster, synchronised with his slaps.
Rolf was filled with malicious glee. Her bottom was red and mottled with purple. Flaunt herself, would she? Tempt him, would she? Play sweet and innocent when secretly she was utterly depraved, would she? Take that, and that, and that!
He slowly became aware that she was sobbing, that tears were streaming down her face. She babbled, ‘Stop, stop, please stop! I can’t take any more!’
A different sort of guilt flooded through him. Overcome with compassion, he lifted her up and turned her into his arms. Rocking her, and only vaguely aware that his rigid cock was trapped beneath her naked bottom, he crooned comforting sounds into her ear.
Penny wriggled, bearing down hard. ‘Feel how burning hot my bum is, on your cock?’
‘Penny, don’t,’ he almost begged.
‘Your cock’s like iron. You need me, Rolf.’ Her arm snaked down between their bodies.
Rolf’s recoil enabled her to get her hand back onto his shaft. He said, ‘No, Penny,’ as she gripped and stroked, pumping frantically. Rolf lifted her bodily from his lap and dumped her on the floor but she still clung to him, still urged his cock. He stood up awkwardly and grabbed her wrist. She changed hands. Rolf realised that he’d have to hurt her, really hurt her, to stop her. The fragility of her body was her weapon against him.
And part of him didn’t want to resist.
His dilemma was resolved. Without warning him, Rolf’s cock spurted. His semen splashed in a diagonal line across the jacket of Penny’s pyjamas and onto her throat.
‘Thank you, Rolf. That’s what I wanted. Now I know that you want me, and that I can satisfy you, even if you fight it. Now I know that, and you know it. I think that’s important, don’t you?’
She climbed to her feet and sauntered from his den, leaving Rolf in a state of shock.
After an hour of bewildered thoughts that took him exactly nowhere, and two more very large scotches, Rolf went up to bed.
He woke in the dark, confused, with a warm and naked body in his arms. ‘Trixie?’
‘No, Rolf, silly, it’s me, Penny.’
He inched away to break the contact of skin-on-skin. ‘Penny, you shouldn’t be here. Last night should never have happened.’
She wriggled back into his lap. ‘I know what we did was wrong, Rolf, but we can’t pretend we aren’t wild for each other.’
‘Yes, we can!’
‘No, we can’t. What we can do is burn our lust away by doing everything, and often. We should act out our wildest fantasies. That way, we’ll get tired of each other before my Mom gets back.’
Rolf couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of Penny’s body but if he were to accept her logic, it would justify him indulging his lusts to the fullest. Stalling, he asked, ‘What would your wildest fantasy be, Penny?’
She whispered, ‘To be forced, Rolf. What I want, more than anything, is for you to make me perform the most obscene sexual acts a man could possibly want a girl to do, against my will.’
With those words, she conquered him. He knew that. He knew that there was no going back. Sooner or later, he was going to do perverse things with and to Penny, depraved things. His only chance was to put those acts off for as long as he could, in the hope that Trixie would come home and put an end to this nonsense before it went any further. Even though that is what he hoped for, a part of him wanted Trixie to stay away for a long, long time. Rolf said, ‘Go back to your own bed, Penny. I’m not going to do what you want.’
She sat up and turned to lean over him, just an erotic
silhouette against the moonlit room. ‘Yes, you are, Rolf. Not right now, maybe, but you can’t resist me forever. We’ll play the game but I’ll win. From here on, it’s open season on Rolf Carmichaels, and I’m a huntress.’
In a flash of naked limbs, she swung off his bed and disappeared.
Twenty-four
Rolf got up late. He took a long cool shower and got fully dressed except for a jacket, taking his time. By then it was well past eleven. Penny might have gone out, riding or jogging, or something. He wasn’t avoiding her but if it happened that they just didn’t bump into each other, that’d be fine.
Who was he kidding? They lived in the same house. It was a big house, but she’d threatened to seek him out and seduce him. He could always go into the City and stay there, but that would be admitting defeat. He wasn’t going to run away from a mere girl!
Whistling bravely, he ran down the stairs and strode into the kitchen.
She was there!
She was there, in strappy black sandals with four-inch heels; cut-off jean shorts that were faded and frayed and torn enough that her skin showed between stretched threads even where the denim covered her; and a drastically cropped white cotton T-shirt.
Penny turned from the pan she was tending and gave him a big smile. ‘Like my outfit? I warned you, didn’t I.’
Rolf said, ‘Good morning, Penny.’
‘Denial, Rolf?’
‘No. I remember what happened. I’m ignoring it.’
‘Brilliant strategy!’ She turned back to her pan. ‘It’s late, so I’ll make this a brunch. Eggs and bacon and home-fries and mushrooms, toast and coffee, OK?’
‘That’ll be fine, thanks.’
‘And what shall we do after? Do you want to spank me again? You really got off on that, didn’t you.’
‘No.’
‘Liar! You are going to do it again, sooner or later, and we both know it. When you do, don’t stop just because I beg you to, OK? Never stop doing anything just because I beg, or cry, or scream even.’
He shrugged.
‘It’s part of the game, you see,’ she continued. ‘I’d like to be forced, as I told you. If I’m being forced, I have to protest to make it seem real. Don’t worry, if I really want you to stop, I’ll call “Red Light!” That’s something I read about in a book once, a very naughty book. Can you remember that, Rolf? Don’t stop unless I call “Red Light”?’
‘I don’t have to remember it. It isn’t going to happen.’
‘Another thing – I’d like you to call me bad names, “Whore” and “Slut” and so on.’
Rolf wondered if that could be in her genes? That’s what her mother liked. How much alike were they, mother and daughter? Trixie, back then, had promised to do everything for him, just like Penny was promising now. When he’d knelt up to bugger Trixie, he’d found that ‘everything’ had limits. Would Penny renege on her word, if he pushed her far enough?
He shook his head. That was no way to think. He wasn’t going to do anything to Penny, not even kiss her. Not even touch her hand.
‘Imagination working, Rolf? Mine is. I’m remembering what your cock looked and felt like, and I’m imagining . . .’
He jumped to his feet. ‘Enough!’
‘You aren’t going to run away from me, Rolf. It isn’t in you. You’re the sort of man who confronts his fears and defeats them. You’ll either conquer me by carrying on as usual, no matter what I do, or you’ll conquer me and bend me to your wicked will. You can’t lose, can you?’
She swayed to the table, heels clicking on the wooden floor, with two heaped plates. Rolf sat back down, not looking at the pale undersides of the delicate little breasts that her T-shirt exposed.
Penny cocked her head and gave him a sad smile. ‘I’m really sorry I’m putting you on the spot, Rolf, but I’m only being honest. I’ve wanted you ever since that first night, since that tango. You took me in your arms and I was pressed against the masculine power of your body. Every step I took, every move I made, was in obedience to you. You made me feel small and weak and helpless – and I loved it. All of my fantasies, since then, have been about surrendering my body to you.’
‘How about Andrew? Don’t you love him?’
‘I love Andrew for the man he will someday become. I lust for you because of the man you are. After all, Rolf, you wanted my Mom and you also wanted me, right from the beginning. I’m no different, with you and Andrew. We’re both greedy, you and I.’
‘What makes you think I’ve wanted you?’
‘I’ve seen it in your eyes. They eat me up, Rolf. You stare at my legs. Every chance you get, you’re peeking at my tits. How about yesterday, when I was in the pool and you were spying on me from upstairs? Did you think I didn’t know? Who do you think left those binoculars nice and handy? I know you used them because they were in a different position when I checked, later. You know what I was thinking about, when I was fingering my pussy? You, Rolf, you looking at me. I was doing it for you.’
Rolf almost spluttered his mouthful of egg.
Penny continued, ‘Rolf, let’s both be honest. You enjoy looking at me. I enjoy being looked at, if it’s you doing the looking. I confess, I deliberately gave you chances to look up my skirts and down my tops. I got off on it. I loved it that I made you hard. Now we are all alone for a while, living in our own private little world. While we can, I’ll show my body off to you. You can enjoy looking at it. If you won’t let us have what we both really want, we can at least have that. Then, when my Mom gets back, we can go back to you getting nothing but sly peeks, just as if nothing happened while she was away. Otherwise, I’ll just be your obedient little stepdaughter, OK?’
‘Do I have any choice?’
‘Not really.’
He laid his knife and fork aside. ‘In that case, do your worst, Penny. I admit I’ll enjoy looking at you. What man wouldn’t? I won’t do more, though. I won’t touch you. Sooner or later you’ll tire of your game and we can go back to being normal.’
‘“In that case,”’ she quoted him, and lifted the hem of her cropped shirt up to rest on her breasts’ upper slopes, baring her pale pink puffy nipples.
‘Very nice.’ Rolf busied himself cutting bacon.
‘Maybe I should twist my ankle.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘To seduce you. It worked for my Mom.’
‘Are you telling me she faked that?’
‘She walked just fine when she and I were alone. It was clever of her, I thought. How long did it take from you resting her foot on your knee to her toes tickling your balls, Rolf?’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he insisted, knowing full well that she knew exactly what she was saying.
‘One last thing,’ Penny said. ‘If you do decide to make love to me, I know I said I’d like to be forced but the very first time, I’d like you to be slow and gentle. A girl’s first time should be romantic, at the hands of an experienced and sophisticated lover, don’t you think?’
‘Now you bring the subject up, didn’t you swear to remain a virgin until your wedding night?’
‘That was an empty promise. In what sense “a virgin”, Rolf? I’ve ridden horses since I was eight. For a while now, I’ve been borrowing Mom’s secret little toys and experimenting with them. I think I’m still pretty tight, but there’s no barrier left, no hymen. There hasn’t been for years. Mentally, well, I’ve been doing it in my imagination for ages, even before you came along. Now, as you know, I’ve held a man’s cock in my hand – yours. What’s left of my “virginity” to lose? You pushing your cock into my pussy? That’s one small step that’ll end a journey I’ve been on for years.’
She grinned. ‘As for Andrew, I hope he won’t still be a virgin when we get married. He’ll be a much better lover if he’s had some experience, preferably with an older woman.’ Her face brightened. ‘I know! We could sic my Mom on him!’
‘Penny, you’re sick!’
‘
I know. The cure’s in your hands, Doctor Carmichael. You could spank my sickness out of me, or you could fuck it out of me.’
‘Penny!’
‘You don’t like my language? I’ve heard the way you and Mom talk to each other in bed.’
‘All the way from your bedroom?’
‘No, from right outside your door. It’s been educational.’
His mental image of Penny crouched outside his bedroom door, listening and maybe peeking in on his and Trixie’s most intimate moments, proved to be the last straw. He threw his cutlery down and stormed outside, into the woods behind the house. To his relief, Penny didn’t follow him.
To punish himself, he deliberately marched to where the trees and underbrush were thickest. Twigs whipped his face and arms. Burrs clung to his pants. When he stepped into a mud puddle, his feet shot from under him. He landed on his tailbone and sat in pained shock for long enough that the wet seeped right through his pants and underpants. When he got up, his right shoe had come off. He didn’t bother finding it. Rolf pressed on, limping. His right sock got dragged down and trailed his foot in a soggy mess, held on only by his toes. Eventually, he came to a low fence and beyond the fence, a four-lane highway. If there’d been a truck coming along, perhaps he’d have thrown himself under it. There wasn’t one, so he sank to his knees and sobbed.
It took about an hour for him to realise what an idiot he was. He was healthy, wealthy and successful, with a son he was proud of and a beautiful, even if maddening, wife. There was only one problem in his life, that a lovely young girl was desperately in lust with him. Ninety-nine per cent of the male population of the world would have envied him. He ordered himself to get a grip. Determined, Rolf stood up and marched back into the woods, intending to go straight back home, where he would take care of the Penny-problem for good, one way or another.
After forty minutes he came to the fence again. By then, his right foot was bare and bleeding. What an idiot he was, to get lost in what was virtually his own backyard. Where was the sun? Rolf peered into the sky. It was overcast with scurrying ominous grey clouds. The brightest spot was just right of directly overhead. Depending on the time, either that way was west, or that one was. He hadn’t put his watch on. Was this the same section of fence as before? He couldn’t be certain. Was the fence straight, or did it curve, or did it turn corners?
