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My Mom and my Sis are my Sex Slaves Part 2

David has captured and trained his Mother Kendra, and his Sister Kayleigh, into becoming his obedient sex slaves. Now he strategically moves towards the next phase of his plan to build the life he always fantasized about. In this chapter, his father, John, returns home and enjoys some one on one time with his daughter Kayleigh. She teases him into a frenzy, and when she turns him away, he forces the matter. Eventually he gets what he deserves.

Fantasm

In the Blink of an Eye

.In the Blink of an Eye.
I sit on the bench waiting for the bus feeling alone as usual. I’m almost always surrounded by people, including friends and family, and have a deep unending feeling of being alone on this hunk of rock we call home. I’ve listened to many conversations of the possible existence of extraterrestrials, and let me tell you, they do exist, just maybe not in the shape and form that you think. When you complete this entry, you’ll believe that I am not human, many call me an animal or inhuman, but I truly believe I am an Alien Life Form, trapped on this planet, searching for a way to pass the time till, my people come for me.
Since I can remember I have laughed at what other people feel ashamed of. I do not know this emotion, what does it mean to feel ashamed. Why should I feel bad or regret anything that I have done? This is me, if as so many people say GOD creates us all in his image, surely this is how GOD is. If GOD created us with free will, why should we feel shame at any decision we make. If this is GOD’s will, then I am just a soldier, following orders. Anger, Humor, Fear, Pride, these are emotions I can relate too. So what is SHAME?
I know many of you out there feel shame and worry every single day. I do not every decision I make is the right, Did I cut that person off, Was I rude to a fellow worker, Should I have let my child go to that party, these and many more questions you so called normal people struggle with every single day. I invite you to a place of total peace and tranquility, where no thought, decision, or outcome is the wrong one.
I step on the bus, and feel pride at the fact that I appear unassuming and unhazardous. I am 5’11”, 180, I am taught and much stronger than I appear, but where baggy clothes to mask that fact. I am bi-racial and could pass for Black, Latino, Native American, Samoan, and Hawaiian, in point of fact I have been asked if I am all of these. I wear glasses, because I have found no one ever suspects violence or abnormal behavior from people who have a disability. I pass by my fellow riders, catching quick glances, on my way to the rear of the bus. No one notices me, I love the fact that I am a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Humanity as a species, wouldn’t not have survived, if we had developed the ability of mind reading. People think all kinds of fucked up things, but never have the testicular fortitude to act or even voice their thoughts. I’m a people watcher, a useful hobby, I have perfected. The white guy with the hard hat, sitting in the front of the bus, that wrinkles his nose as if he smells something funky, as the young black kid, with sagging jeans passes by, closet racist. They woman that looks away, as the young Black or Latino mother with two kids under 6 years old, thinks to herself well fare , as the mother walks by. All these things happen in the blink of eye, maybe without even a conscious thought, but I notice everything. The young man watching a scantily dresses woman, walk to the back of the bus. He closes his eyes imagining her naked and what he would do to her given the chance.
I watch number 45 step on the bus, and pay her fare. She sports the slender yet muscular build of an athlete. Since she is petite, I picture tennis or golf. I notice her lily white skin, dark blond hair, long toned legs, arrow straight posture, designer hand bag, and shoes. She grew up in a well to do area, and probably went to private school. I see a small unobtrusive ring, near perfect necklace of white pearls, solid power color dress, and think to myself, paralegal , executive assistant, or teacher. She wears a light jacket close around her, which tells me she is not aware of her beauty, she is shy and introspective. She is not aware of every male eye watching her as she, walks to the back of the bus. She sits down and tugs at the hem of he dress anxiously, glances quickly at me and as quickly turns away. I notice a sparkle in her eye as she glances at my lap, and see the novel laying there.
“Hello”, she says after a barely discernible swallow.
“Hi,” I respond giving her a quick once over, that she doesn’t notice.
My, My, quite shy aren’t we I think to myself as I watch her.
“What are you reading,” she asks nodding towards the book laying on my lap.
“Stephen King’s Bag of Bones,” I say looking into her emerald green eyes.
“I love that book,” she says excitedly, “It’s one of my favorites.”
I’ve found something that may pull her out of her shell, I think next.
“It’s one of my favorites as well,” I reply reassessing my early evaluation of her and adding librarian to the list of professions, “I love how he turned a ghost story into a romance novel.”
“Oh, I know,” she says with a sigh, “I love how he expressed the way his character felt about his wife’s death, and how he was dealing with it.”
Definitely a bookworm, has had only a few relationships that most likely ended badly, likes book romance better than real life romance. Waiting for her Prince Charming to come and sweep her off her feet.
“I think he may possibly be the best writer in the world, right now.”
“There are a lot of great writers out there,” she says pushing her glasses up and giving me a quick once over, “ I don’t do this often, but I’m in a book club you may like. We meet at different people’s houses every week and discuss the book of the week, I meet so few people now a days that read, I just thought…”
This is almost to easy I think to myself, is she really that naive.
“That sounds great,” I say as she begins to fumble with her words, biting her lower lip nervously, “What book are you reading for next week?”
“We are reading another Stephen King book, The Stand,” she tilting her head down and looking away demurely, “It’s kind of long, so you might not have enough time to finish it.”
“I have read it several times,” I reply shifting in my seat so I can get a better look at her, “It is probably my all time favorite King book.”
“Well then you’ll be able to come,” she says smiling and blushing slightly.
“Here is my card,” I say pulling out a card that shows me to be a rare book collector for a well known auction house, “ Give me a call, and let me know the when and where.”
“I will,” she says gracing me with another sparkling white smile. “ We meet on Wednesday nights, at a different person’s house. The host usually provides some wine and cheese, or some other finger food, you can bring something if you like.”
“I’ll think about that,” I say smiling at her.
“Here’s my stop,” she says standing up quickly, “I’ll call you this weekend to give the address, an in flux of fresh blood is just what our little group needs. Plus it’ll be nice to have a man’s opinion on things for a change.”
This is too easy, I think to myself again as I watch her climb down the rear steps of the bus and apparently head towards a coffee shop up the street, “I could take her tonight if I really wanted to,says one side of brain. “Wait, be patient, the chase is half the fun,” says the other side if my brain.
I get off the bus one block up, from where number 45 got off. I walk towards the coffee shop, she appeared headed to and watch her walk in just before I arrive at the door. I walk up behind her and hear he order an Earl Grey, with light cream. I step up and order the same thing, and quickly step up behind her at the register.
“This one is on me,” I say to the cashier with a wink.
“Oh no, that’s ok,” forty-five says reaching into her purse, “I’ll pay for myself.”
“It’s the least I can do,” I say reaching out and gently removing her hand from her purse, “After such a nice invitation.”
“Oh, it’s you,” she says glancing back at me blushing and smiling again, “That’s ok, please I can pay…”
“No, No, I insist,” I say lifting her hand and kissing it, “ I must repay my lady for such a gracious invitation.”
“Well then sir, such a noble gesture,” she says with a small curtsey, “Shall not be denied.”
The cashier looks at us as if we are crazy and then accepts my card. After she swipes it, we walk to a a corner both at the front of the cafe, right next to the window. I bow and offer her the seat next to the window, she sits down and then nods for me to sit down. I sit and take a sip of my tea, and watch her do the same. I wait for her to speak first.
“You are quite a nice surprise,” she says sipping again, “Most people aren’t able to speak in Old English, any more.”
“I love Shakespeare,” I say taking another sip, looking at her over the cup.
“I love the way, he made the language flow,” she says closing her eyes with a sigh.
“One of my greatest finds, was a complete set of Shakespeare’s works.”
“Oh, I don’t know how you gave that up.” she says with a shudder, “ I would of kept them for myself.”
“It was a good bit out of my price range,” I say with a laugh, “I would of loved to, but I could never afford that.”
“I know what you mean, my salary barely pays my bills,” she says giggling lightly.
“You know my profession, my dear lady, might I know what you do for a living.”
“I’m a scribe, dear sir,” she replies quickly changing her answer, “I mean I am a librarian.”
“That must be an interesting job,” I say purposely starring at her to watch her blush again, “All those old tomes to pour over. You could never know, all the first editions I’ve read ,before turning them over to the auction house.”
“I can imagine,” she replies dreamily, “I love to go into the reserved section, and feel the old paper rustle beneath my fingers. What’s it like to find those rare books for others, and not be able to have one or two for yourself?”
“I have a few autographed first editions . They are mostly contemporary authors, but..” I say giving her a nonchalant wink.
“I’d love to see your collection,” she says excitedly,then blushes at her own forwardness
“I’ll bring you one next week,” I say laughing to myself knowing, I’m stealing her heart, “You can see it after we discuss The Stand.”
“The group would love that,” she says lowering her head and hiding her eyes, “They will be amazed to have some one with your expertise involved in the group.”
“Be sure and call me,” I say standing up making ready to leave, “I’m really looking forward to discussing the book with all of you.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow or Sunday,” she says, “ I think the group will love you.”
“That’s good to hear. I love a heated discussion on almost any subject, it allows me to use my debate team skills,” I say picking up my cup and turning towards the entrance.
“I know what you mean,” she replies with another giggle, “I sometimes pick an opposing position, just to argue.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I say with a wink just before turning out the door, “Just by the by might I ask your name.”
“My name is Joan,” she replies, “Joan Stipkovitcz, and yours good sir?”
“Terrance” I reply taking her hand a kissing it again, “I look forward to hearing from you, Joan.”
I step out the and stand next to the window for a moment, and watch her give herself a slight hug. I know she’ll call me tomorrow if not tonight. I’ve chosen another victim in the blink of an eye. I head down the street and hail a cab. I tell the cabbie where I’m headed, then lean back in the cab and close my eyes.
So sweet and innocent I think picturing her in my mind. This shall be fun, I have her hooked already. It amazes me sometimes, how naive and trusting people are. I picture Joan laid out on the bed, trembling beneath my gentle caress, goose bumps covering her pale skin.
I arrive at my residence without realizing how much daydreaming I have been doing. I sit at the computer, doing a small amount of research on my new friend. The internet is an amazing thing, with it almost nothing is private any more, everything is at the tips of your fingers, once you know where to look. After only five minutes I have a senior picture, address, phone number, and credit rating. I knew she had no record, her family lived twenty-six hundred miles away on the other side of the country. I knew she had graduated cu-ma-sum-laude from a small liberal arts college mere blocks from her address. I knew her salary, I knew she went to Cancun last year on vacation. I knew she had a Sphinx cat from the pictures of her face book page. What more do I need to know? Her whole life is laid out in front of me.
I walk into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine, and drink it as I prepare dinner. Just as I sit down to dinner the phone rings, I let the machine answer, already knowing who it is.
“ Uh, this is Joan, I’m not sure you remember but,we met on the bus earlier today,” she says into the phone, “I was just giving you a call, to um…”
“Hello, Joan,” I say picking up the receiver, knowing that she is close to hanging up, “I was waiting for you to call, I just sat down to dinner.”
“I’m so sorry, I can call you back, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she stutters out.
“No worries, your not interrupting anything important, please tell me where we are meeting this week.”
“We are meeting at my friend Monica’s apartment this week,” Joan says quietly almost as if she is expecting me to yell at her, “I can give you directions.”
“OK then.”
“She lives over on Milan Ave. The address is 1315, apartment 4 D,I hope you will come,” she says almost pleading, “I really think you’ll enjoy it.”
“What time do you usually meet,” I ask.
“We meet around seven-thirty.”
“I’ll be there, with bells on,” I say and wait for what I know is coming next.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she says shyly, “But I was wondering if you’d like to meet for dinner tomorrow night, I’m sure you have plans, but thought I’d give it a try.”
“Actually I’m free tomorrow night,” I say chuckling in my head, “I’d love to see you. Why don’t you come to my apartment and we can cook dinner together.”
“Oh you wouldn’t want that,” Joan replies giggling, “I’m a horrible cook.”
“I’m positive that you are not horrible at anything,” I say picturing her covering her mouth as she giggles again.
“No really, I’m not very good at cooking, I usually just order out.”
“Well then, this a situation we will have to remedy, won’t we,” I say laughing with her, “Your first lesson will commence tomorrow night at seven.”
“Well, I barely know you, but you do seem so nice,” she says dreamily, “Do you mind if I bring a friend with me, just to be safe?”
“You, can bring whatever you like, to make you more comfortable,” I say knowing this is just a bluff.
“OK, then we’ll be there at seven,” Joan says, “Can I bring anything with me?”
“Just you,your friend, and two pairs of helping hands,” I say.
“OK, see you tomorrow then Terrance,” Joan says as she hangs up the phone.
I sit back down to dinner picturing her shaking her head in disbelief, at her own nerve. I love the shy quiet ones, they are usually the best in bed. The quieter they are in life, the wilder they are in bed, as a rule of thumb, have you found this to be true? I finish dinner and drive to the supermarket to buy the items which we will be cooking. Once done there I stop and purchase a couple bottles of wine, from the private winery near by.
As I fall asleep that, I do so with a smile, thinking of the new plaything I will acquire tomorrow, and add to my collection. I fall asleep with my customary ease, having no conscience makes it easy to fall asleep. I wake up in the morning and sit down to eat breakfast, a bagel and hot tea. Then I go for a run. I love to run, and feel the wind rushing over my body, almost like I’m soaring, that’s also why I own a OCC bike. After working a good sweat with the run, I hit the weights. Lifting is a great to cool down from a run, especially since I rarely lift for bulk. High reps low weight, great for definition. I finish my daily routine with some ab work, and head to the shower.
I stroke my cock picturing my new toy, that I get to play with later. Imaging what I’m going to do with and with out her permission. I finish myself and then my shower. I sit around the house absentmindedly watching college football, and mentally preparing for tonight’s festivities. I prepare the bedroom, and my tools. I dress quickly around 6:45 putting on a nice light blue, button down shirt and a pair of ball hugging blue jeans that show my package off quite nicely. I daub my neck and wrists with Aqua Digio cologne, and I am just setting up my IPOD play list , as I hear a knock at the door. I turn on the fire place, and check myself in the mirror as I walk past it, to open the door. I see immediately I was right about her bluff, as I open the door and see her standing there all alone. She is breath taking in a pair of tight hip hugging blue jeans, and a tight white sweater, that show her perky small breasts. She is holding her copy of the Stand in one hand, and a unpretentious bottle of wine in the other.
“I know you told me not to bring anything,” she says tucking her hair behind an ear absentmindedly, “ But I hate coming to anyone’s house empty handed.”
“That’s fine,” I say taking the bottle from her and stepping aside to let her in, “I’ll it put out to breathe, why don’t you pick some music from my IPOD on the mantle there.”
“OH. Let’s see what you have,” she says loud enough for me to hear as I walk into the kitchen.
I place her bottle of wine on the counter top and then pour two glasses from the bottle I had opened earlier. I hear Nina Simone come over the speakers as I’m walking back with the wine.
“Your selection is eclectic,” Joan says as she sees me enter the room, “ I have always loved a roaring fire as well, it seems to be a living thing.”
“Here we go Joan,” I say offering her one of the glasses.
“Thank you,” she says immediately taking a sip, “MMM very good.”
“I must admit to being a bit of a wine connoisseur as well,” I say just before taking a sip.
“Well you must know your wines as well as you know your rare books, if this,” Joan says titling her glass towards me, “is any indication of your knowledge.”
“Why thank you very much,” I say watching her drain her glass, “ Would you like another glass?”
“Yes, very much,” Joan says nodding her head.
“I’ll be right back then,” I say as I watch her stifle a small burp with her hand, and then give her a wink “ Don’t go any where.”
“I’ll be right here waiting for you.” Joan says a starts to look through the IPOD again.
“Should I fuck her before or after dinner,” I ask myself walking into the kitchen. “Let her decide” says my logical voice, “She’s close to starting it now, she all nervous and jittery, I bet after she finishes that second glass of wine, she’ll be all over you.” I hear a Robert Johnson ‘ The Walkin Blues’ burst from the speakers, as I am coming through the doors. She stands at the mantle shimmying in front of the fire,
looking smooth and sensuous.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,” Joan says covering her mouth in a nervous laugh.
“That’s ok , I love to see people enjoying their music,” I reply handing her her second glass of wine.
“You have great taste in music, not many people our age appreciate this type of music.”
“A lot of people miss out on great things be it music, books, food, because they are afraid to try something different,” I say and then finish my wine.
“So what did you have in mind for dinner tonight,” Joan asks.
“I was thinking of making veal Parmesan, but using venison instead of veal, roasted Italian herd red potatoes, and maybe a chocolate mouse for desert, how does that sound,” I ask waiting to see if she balks at the venison.
“What is venison?”
“Venison is deer meat, very tasty and very healthy for you,” I say as she finishes her wine, “ It a lot leaner than beef or pork, and tastes exquisite, have you ever tried it?”
“ No I haven’t tried it before,” Joan answers shaking he in that cute way she has, “ I heard it has a different taste, I’m game to try it though. I totally agree with what you said about people missing out because of their fear of the unknown.”
“Well I have marinated the meat in the wine we’re drinking now, that’ll take care of the gamey flavor.”
“May I use your restroom.” she asks standing up.
“Go down the hall and it’s the first door on the left,” I say gesturing my directions, “ Just meet me in the kitchen when your done.”
I walk into the kitchen as she walks towards the bathroom. I set everything we need on the counter and pour two more glasses of wine, waiting for her to come back from the bathroom. Once she arrives in the kitchen, we begin to prepare dinner, while sipping our wine. I can tell she is beginning to relax a little, since she has removed her sweater to reveal a silken sleeveless tank top. We carry on the normal first date conversation, as we fix dinner. Where did you grow up, What were your parents like, First Kiss, First Boyfriend/Girlfriend, all while a steady flow of Jazz and Blues float in from the other room.
She is starting to feel tipsy, as we adjourn to the hearth to eat our meal, and has barely touched her most recent glass of wine. We move to the more intimate questions, between bites of food, and I can see in her eyes that she is falling in love with me. Just as we are finishing our meal Apocolyptica’s Unforgiven come through the speakers.
“That is one of the most soulful songs, I’ve ever heard,” she say standing up shakily and starting to dance slowly again.
I stand up and bow, then take her hand as we slowly move around the living room carefully avoiding the china, strewn in front of the fire place. I can feel her melt in my as my arms encompass her, she hugs herself to tightly to me, with her head settling perfectly on my shoulder. She looks into my eyes as the song ends and we stand there in a warm embrace, I see a few tears plunge to her cheek from her lower lashes.
“What’s wrong,” I ask tightening my grip slightly.
“Oh I’m sorry, it just the wine and the song, it’s just me being silly,” she says pulling away slightly.
“Don’t apologize, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” I say lightly stroking the back of her head.
“You make me feel safe and warm and, and,…..,” she mumbles before planting a deep kiss on me.
I’m not surprised, but am a little taken aback by the ferocity of her kiss. It seems to last for ever as we both break apart at the same, panting to catch our breathe. She looks at me and then we dive back in for another kiss. As we break apart this time, Nina Simone’s ‘Feelin Good’ comes on . We begin to dance again, slowly more like sex with our cloths on.
“Take me, I’m yours,do what you want,” she whispers in my ear and then nibbles the lobe.
I scoop her into my arms, letting her feel my strength, and carry her to the bedroom, as she nibbles on my ear lobe and down my neck. I lay her down on the bed, and then join her. We stroke each others face and hair as we lay in the bed kissing. Our tongues and fingers commence searching at the same time. We rub each other tenderly at first, and then her fingers fumble at the buttons on my shirt. Joan slides her hands inside the shirt and lightly rakes her nails along my sides making me tingle. I grab her wrist and pull her hand away, then slide my hands under her shirt finding her small perfectly formed breasts, and feeling her nipples come to life as I rub them lightly with my finger tips. She moans very quietly her breath tickling my ear, that she has resumed munching on. I tug her shirt over her head as she lifts her arms over her head slips out , and slides her mouth to my chest, gently kiss me all over my chiseled upper torso.
“I no idea you were so well defined,” Joan says between pecks.
“I like to stay in shape,” I respond as I fumble with her jeans.
“So toned yet sensitive,” Joan says running her hands up and down my side again watching me shudder.
I get her jeans open and slide them off, as her hands reach out to my jeans top and she starts to work my zipper. I can feel my self bulging against the zipper, knowing she’ll be pleased once she gets my pants off. She pulls my jeans off just as I find her pulsing clitoris, Joan moans as she struggles to get my jeans off. My jeans slide off as I begin work her clit in a circle, first slowly and gently then picking up speed and strength as I go along. She grabs my shaft, stroking it gently between both of her palms, as she bucks and writhes under my touch. She rubs faster and then grabs my face and pulls into a kiss, her tongue searching desperately for mine. I gently run my finger down and back to open her slit, stopping back at the clit, and working it, until I think she is ready too cum and the going back to working her labias. She slides under around so we are in a sixty-nine position, and begins to lick my head and shaft. I stick my face into her crotch and feel the goose bumps breakout on her back and buttocks as I pull myself into her, a begin to lick her lips and clitoris.
Don’t stop, Don’t stop,” she says between licks then muffles a moan by swallowing half my cock in one gulp.
I plunge two fingers into her soft pink opening. She tightens her grip on me moving up and down quickly as if she is trying to inhale the entire length. I know I’ve found her G-spot when she starts humming with me in her mouth. I roughly rub her perfect spot, while sucking and gently gnawing her clit. She pulls me out of her mouth, gives the head one last suck and then I can feel her muscles spasm around my fingers inside her.
“Yes, Yes, Oh GOD YES,” she yells out as I feel her cum all over my fingers.
She immediately spins on the bed, pulls my fingers from inside her and sticks them in her mouth. I stand up and grab her legs and pull her pussy back to my face and stick my tongue into her still convulsing vagina. She taste exquisite, she pulls my face into her with two handfuls of hair and begins to grind her hips against me. She rubs her clit while I probe her with my tongue, and feel her cum again, as I watch her nearly do a head stand on the bed, arching her back. As I pull away she sits up quickly, and kisses me again and we share her juices. She wraps her legs around my waist as we hug and kiss, and then twist some how so that we land on the bed with her on top of me.
“My turn,” she says then pinches my nipples.
I open my mouth in an O of surprise as she begins to rub her dripping pussy up and down my length, getting me back to my peak size. I feel her reach down and place me inside here and shift immediately up and the slide back down. As she slides back up she grips me, like a tight fitting glove, and then impales herself on my cock. I feel that little hit on the tip of my cock, as I hit bottom every time she slides down my entire length.
“Your hung like a horse,” Joan says arching her back and sliding faster and faster, “ You can hit that spot all night long.”
We are both starting to sweat and I close my eyes and concentrate on trying to last as long as possible. She rakes my chest with her nails, and the moves her hands to cover mine and we hold hands, as we both utter cries as we cum in unison. They pressure on my hands get stronger and her cries turns into a guttural wolf howl. I open my eyes and see a full blown werewolf astride me.
“I enjoyed this immensely human, much more pleasure than most of you kind can give me,” she says as she watches me struggle under her iron grip, “I’ve always enjoyed hunting a hunter. The smell of death and ruin hang about you, in a clouded stench. How many have you taken before me?”
“You were to be number forty-five,” I say while gasping for breath struggling to break free.
“That is an impressive number for one so young,” she say and the runs her her tongue around her snout, “Alas, but your time her has ended.”
“Wait, Wait,” I yell as I try to heave her off of me with one mighty final push and fail.
I feel the bite of her teeth as she penetrates my flesh and savagely pulls back ripping flesh and tendons with her knife like teeth. I feel the blood spurting from my wounded vessels and the last thing that passes through my mind is “Isn’t it funny how life can change in the blink of an eye?”

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Diary

Car Fascination

An avid reader asked if I had previously experienced a lot of sex in the car, after he had read my previous submissions. I love the feedback and all the questions and thought I would share my first experience of car sex…

Fiction

The Evil Twin

Twin girls, identical in nearly every way except one. One was good, the other bad. And when she was bad, she was really bad.

Sex Joke

A Rather Special Dinner Date

A man and a woman were having dinner in a fine restaurant. Their waitress, taking another order at a table a few paces away noticed that the man was slowly sliding down his chair and under the table, with the woman acting unconcerned.
The waitress watched as the man slid all the way down his chair and out of sight under the table. Still, the woman dining across from him appeared calm and unruffled, apparently unaware that her dining companion had disappeared.
After the waitress finished taking the order, she came over to the table and said to the woman, “Pardon me, ma’am, but I think your husband just slid under the table.”
The woman calmly looked up at her and replied firmly, “No he didn’t. He just walked in the door.”

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True Story

The Third Time

To be honest, I’m not too certain how much more of this I’ll be able to tell, or recall, but I’ll try for another. This event occurred not too long after the last, I think a week, or two. It was a Wednesday afternoon, and all seemed normal. I had gotten home from school, usually depressed as I had slowly begun to become a bit of a loner. I could always connect with others, but I never truly fit in anywhere, nor with anyone. The friends I may have had all phased out, it’s really actually quite depressing, but I was young and when your parents split, it’s hard to adjust. In the long run, I know it was for the better of myself and my father, as well as the rest of the family, but still at that age there was still a lot of inner turmoil I simply couldn’t comprehend. I was ten, how could I?
My father was usually home around four, which means I would be alone in the apartment for a couple of hours. Just enough time to work on homework, if I chose to that night. Homework was never really the issue, just the desire to not waste time, that, and I always enjoyed when he would help me with it. He would set a small coffee table up by the couch, or sometimes by my bed and we’d sit together and work through it. Math was always the harder of the bunch, but looking back, I can’t see why. However, we all wish we knew what we do now then, things would be different, of course. I think the outcome of my life would have been different had I known a few things then that I do now, but that’s neither here, nor there.
For this day, I had really only any need to read a few chapters of a book for school. There was a lot of interest in reading and my father even let me read some of the books he enjoyed, both as a child and adult, but the adult ones I found harder to get into. None of them were sexual in nature, as I’d like to always stress that my father wasn’t a pervert. The things we did, I think they were done merely out of some sort of connection, need to connect, or just some mutual expression love. I was learning, and to learn from the man I looked up to was at the time almost awe inspiring. He knew things, and did things I simply couldn’t fathom until grew older and thus much more world wise. Still, there was never any sense of perversion in the few times anything did happen, just a father and his son.
When he got home, I guess I didn’t really notice it had been later than usual. The book I was reading, well, let’s say I got through it pretty quickly. The door shut loudly and I remember being jolted by that, he had never been loud. He called to me and set me at the table to talk to me. Mom wanted back in, not so much in the family, but my life. I was her son, but that was saying about as much as someone that collects porcelain dolls saying that they were one of their children, only I’m pretty sure she’d love dolls more than she did me. She wanted to spend weekends. Every weekend. He was against it, and so was I. There was something inside me that wanted to try, because at that age I couldn’t learn that all some people wanted to do was to damage others.
In any case, we had talked about it and decided not to, but knew she would persist. It was something that worried him and after that brief talk, he did what he could to whip up a quick dinner for me then seemed to disappear into his room. It wasn’t a normal evening for us, I was worried too. Around seven, when I should have been readying for bed, I knocked on the door, which just opened as I touched it. I found him in the shower, or well, I could hear the shower going and figured he was in there.
I was in a large shirt, which covered me to my knees, beneath just white little undies all boys my age should have worn. I went across the room to the bathroom door, which was left slight ajar. I’m guessing in his state of dealing with the ex trying to come back into his son’s life after having cast him aside so eagerly that certain details just kind of escaped him. One of them being me entering the bathroom, I wanted to know what was up, because he was supposed to bring me to bed and he would some times read to me, or just tuck me in, I enjoyed it and maybe, I thought, doing that would take his mind off of mom.
The door was fogged, like a shroud of mist had fallen upon it. I’m not sure how he knew, maybe he I made a noise, or probably from opening the door, but he knew I was there. Watching, not for any sexual pleasure, but just there. He said I could join him, that I would need a shower anyway so we may as well share one. It wasn’t like what I had was anything he hadn’t seen before, after all I was part of him. That and when you’ve had your father’s hard cock inside your mouth, even just the few inches I managed to get in, modesty and that little shyness about nudity sort of has no place being an excuse. So I slid out of that large shirt, leaving just my small boyish frame in my little white undies that soon were removed as well. The door opened and I slipped into the moist, warm fog of the shower with my father. I think that’s the first time it ever happened, and not the last, but it was more special the first time. Something new to share with him.
I gazed up at him, though he was turned. His ass to me and his balls between his cheeks, I remember that image being burned into my young mind. Since then I’ve always had a thing for spread thighs with that soft pouch of flesh snug between. I guess this is where that came from, sort of like how my phobia of orcas came from watching Free Willy. Terrifying movie, but that’s beside the point. Water dripped down his flesh, hot and yet still smooth. He was so young then, not to me at that age, but looking back his age really wasn’t what I’d today consider old, especially considering I’ll be reaching that age in time and i’d like to be half as youthful as he was then.
He asked me if my homework was finished, and I just mumbled yes, something about reading. I guess he expected me to shower with him, and head out when finished, using the run off from the shower head. It was detachable, so when his head dipped out of its radius of warm, moist delight he looked back at his young son, wetted and taking the shower head he handed to me. I soaked my hair, closing my eyes as tight as I could because I hated getting water in my eyes, even when swimming. I probably giggled a bit too, I always found it kind of ticklish using the detachable shower head in some places on my body. I don’t know, maybe. I remember there were no smiles that day from him, or even myself. Just heavy thoughts and detachment from the future. Even at my age I remember playing scenarios in my head of what might happen, or what could happen, both good and bad. I guess he did too, but I just figured adults always knew that answer, you know? Like they could tell the future, or something. That was just youthful ignorance talking though. Shame.
He turned, and my eyes immediately moved from the walls and his face to his cock. It was kind of where my eyes were leveled at anyway so it wasn’t difficult to suddenly lock onto cock. It was semi-hard, or soft, I was never certain really, just that it looked like he was peeing with all the water just running down that smooth curvature of tender, brittle flesh. I was distracted by his hand, reaching out to give me the soap, a little lemon bar of soap we used. This was his though, even though I had my own. I liked the lemon scent better than mine, that and mine was so small. I liked the bigger one, seemed more adult.
“Wash up,” he said. I asked if he had, and if maybe I could help him. It elicited the first real flicker of a grin I saw on him that night, but he said yeah.
Eager, and playful I started with his stomach. soaping it up and he’d even help by spreading his hand across his body a little, and using some of it to soap up my chest and shoulders. He was probably nearly finished with his shower when I had come in so this was just a way to get me done so we could get out. He knew I couldn’t reach to much and thus would leave it to him. There was one thing I could reach, and that was his hefty package, and that I did reach. My smaller hands found his heavy sack and cupped it, gently moistening it with the soap and then letting the water run the lemon scent across his flesh as it cleaned him off. I don’t think he expected this and it seemed like he was even going to move my hand up, not to his penis, but just away from that area, but he let me continue. What was the harm, anyway? His tongue had been buried inside of my little asshole once, so I’m sure cleaning his crotch wouldn’t kill anyone.
Perhaps what he was worried about was the fact his dick began to harden. I remember it growing so quickly, like a wilting flower in reverse blossoming into the manly, adult appendage I had tasted and played with before. Somehow glistening in the warm shower water with all of that wetness running down the curves to his balls was beautiful. An odd feeling I felt, I guess, but I just thought it was a beautiful sight. I liked it, his penis.
My hands continues to gently caress his balls as if cleaning them even though the soap was now gone. I probably dazed off and just kept going, but I remember eventually I ended up close enough as the head of his cock was level with my face that I gave the head of it a kiss.
What he asked sank in, because not until then did I really grasp what I was going through. What I’d become. “You really like that, don’t you?” He asked me as if he was seeking for a specific answer. His eyes sort of went through me, but I could just see eyes. I couldn’t grasp the depth then, not like I do now, but now it’s all just memories. Now, I realize he was starting to understand why these things were happening with me. I was gay and in some strange way he was beginning to accept that, not that he was, but I don’t think he grasped that, not until this moment. That’s why it’s so clear to me, that’s when I knew. At the time however, I was just thinking that i did enjoy it and thus parted my little, wet lips and started to suck on the head of my father’s penis. I know he enjoyed that, and I know it would make him happy, at least I thought so. He had been so down that day, and this would be a way to please him, his ten year old son sucking his hard, wet dick.
My hands held his penis out so I could just focus on the head and suck on it. I never could get much of it in my mouth, but what I could, I enjoyed rolling my tongue around underneath and then sliding out and licking that slit. I knew pee came out of there, but so did something else. Something I had begun to associate with pleasure, or at least happiness. I no now it’s more of a pleasure thing than happiness, but I was young.
I remember he stopped me and I felt hurt. Not physically, just hurt that he had pulled me off of his penis. Hurt, I now recall was such a foolish word for that feeling. I remember not much really being said, but asked me to turn around and I guess he lowered himself as that warm massaging feeling overcame my little thighs and butt, his tongue then finding my hole again. This gave me that feeling of happiness, and pleasure that I wanted to give him by sucking him off. It didn’t last long though, I don’t really know how long though, but I think it wasn’t long, maybe a few minutes. I remember ending up leaning over the door with my hands against the glass and his tongue inside me, but then it wasn’t. Instead, his fingers found that little pink opening of mine, opening mine up. It was a feeling I didn’t quite understand, because his fingers, at least two, I think, were bigger than his tongue and less like a soft spear and more like a prodding sausage. He didn’t have fat fingers, but it just felt like something bigger against my little tender puckering flesh.
I know now what he was preparing it for, and soon I felt something softer and wetter slapping my little butt and hole. It was his penis. My father had managed to slip in one finger, which hurt really badly so it took forever for me to adjust to it, and I still don’t think that ever happened. It was like something trying to tear me open, which is partially true, but still, it really hurt at first. Eventually, as his voice soothed me, his words faded with time and I can no longer remember, but I remember becoming numb to it. Just letting myself calm down and begin to adjust, to try and find the joy in it. Probably took forever though, which is saying a lot of about his patience.
If I thought his fingers were a lot to handle, when I looked back, unknowing what it was slapping against my butt, and rubbing it up and down, I saw his penis and it didn’t quite connect with me. I didn’t realize what he was planning, if it was even planned. He asked me if it was all right, to say no when ever I felt it was too much, but I just kept nodding. So his penis then slid into me. Slowly, as if it were a warm, moist snail, only without the mollusk part. Just the speed, or lack thereof. I remember not liking it much, wincing and gasping even. Probably said a few things i shouldn’t have, but I didn’t say no. I was curious. I had never felt this before, nor even thought of it and now here I was with his hard cock sliding into my little asshole, no longer a virgin as of then.
He slid it in about an inch, and left it at that. His cock sticking out, pulsating I bet, cause I could feel it stretching my inner walls even though he hadn’t even begun thrusting. That pulsing pain and yet subliminal pleasure that let you know someone was inside you and you needed them in there, to not only feel that sexual pleasure, or physical connection, but their heart beat too. It was all veins pumping from that vital, yet delicate muscle and it now pumped within me and i could feel it. What made me now inside of me, and that’s when he began to thrust, slow at first, but I remember in time it quickened, but never too fast, nor too deep. He was also so gentle when he was inside me, I remember. I guess I could liken it to that phrase, “making love.”
I cried out for him, his name, which was ‘Daddy’ at the time, I didn’t know his real name, or if I did I never said it much. Most thoughts were gone anyway, that whole thing was just a blur even though I remember his dick inside me so clearly, just not what I was thinking, probably because I wasn’t thinking. He just kept thrusting in and out, even digging another inch, or two inside me until I’d cry out a little harder. His hands found my hips and helped pull me into his lap and away as my hands pressed against the glass door, trying to find something to hold on to beside wet, clear surfaces. I was at his mercy, which fortunately he had some.
I guess he needed that. It probably, looking back, was about ten minutes worth of thrusting and burrowing inside of me when I heard his grunts and moans louder and more muffled and he was saying something. That he was about to do something, but I didn’t really know what it was. I didn’t want him to stop, but I guess if he had to do something then, but then he did it. I could feel the pulsing, that burrowing meat and flesh throbbing within my little channel and even more warmth. He was cumming, spilling his seed into his little boy. He rested there for a while, with me in his lap, the water still over us, or maybe that was just the heat pounding in my chest. Exhaustion and water and the smell of sex, and just everything. I don’t know, but it was a moment I know we shared in unison.
After, he helped clean me up and even took me into bed with him. I remember complaining about still feeling that throbbing ache in by butt until he assured me it was okay, and that he wouldn’t do it again unless I was okay with it. I never replied, only slept. SInce that night, I pretty much slept in his room every night. I’d start in my room and then somehow wake up in the middle of the night and crawl in bed with him. It was nice, and felt safe, like no matter what would happen, everything would still be okay.

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