Gender: Male Age: 57 Location: Bangkok
|Introduction: As before...this contains sexual activities between an older male and minors, but no intercourse. It is total fantasy. DO NOT read if this may offend you|
FRUITS OF OTHERS’ LOINS
(Based on a helpful comment, I have re-paragraphed this, and hope it helps readers. I did fix 3 minor typos also, but that's all that has changed)
My daughter – well, the daughter of my wife to another man she fucked while I was away working in another country – is beautiful and approaching 2y.o. From the time my wife phoned me to confess her infidelity, I have accepted the situation and been there for her throughout – visits to the doctor, gave up my posting and my job to come home and be with her for the birth, and still here.
We had stopped sex for some time prior to that anyway, so the fact I find her unattractive for sex from that time forward has not meant any radical change in feelings. My wife works 5 or 6 days a week, I am retired, so I don’t begrudge her free time, but she does have a baby after all, and I often feel she neglects her; perhaps she has another man: I don’t know and don’t care. The baby is what I care about.
I have always been the one to care for the baby – bathing, feeding her my international-style healthy baby/toddler food (in contrast to the fattening food my mother-in-law feeds her), playing games, taking her for walks and out in the car, reading…we do lots of things together. I can’t replicate her mother’s milk-filled breasts, the one caring action my wife does at least give her daughter, and is still able to give her almost 2 years after birth.
When she was about 1y.o, I began showering her, not bathing her. I would sit behind her, naked on the bathroom floor, supporting her until she could properly sit up on her own, and using the shower nozzle to wet her, before lathering and cleaning her. It is a dad’s job, and I enjoyed it, and we always had fun – unlike the screaming on the odd occasion I made her mother do the showering - and I let her play with toys or lather the soap on her own body…just fun times.
It was in shower time she became inquisitive about Dad’s body more, squirming around to place her tiny hand on my penis, just feeling it, and knowing it was something different to her mother’s or her own body. It was just a growing up step to me, and nothing sexual at all even occurred to me at that time.
She did this on occasions, not every time, and seemed to find it interesting, so I never took her hand away, or pretended it to be anything other than normal – just as I allowed her to rub at her own vagina at times: just a child’s learning steps.
A few months ago, in the shower with her, I suddenly grew a hardened prick – you know, one of those which just occur without conscious thought. It pressed at her bottom, so I moved back away from her; however, she felt it, squirmed around and put her hand on it, saying “Bung”.
This is her word for everything she is not yet able to say, and as usual, I said “No, not a ‘bung’, this is daddy’s penis, and yes you don’t have one of these on your body.” She played with it for a few moments before returning to filling her little bucket with water to pour over her self. She seemed thereafter to enjoy doing this most times in the shower: squirming to feel this ‘bung’ of daddy’s, or grasping it in her tiny hand to fondle.
Were these sexual moments for Dad? I suppose in a way they were, pleasant I’ll admit, but neither lustful nor even moments to contemplate what might happen one day way in the future, but that first time with a hardened penis was a thoughtful moment, and took me to another time years ago, a period of my life I had tried to hide away from my thoughts…
I was married to another wife then, and she also had a daughter not the product of my loins. When we met, this little toddler was 3, and for 8 years after she was my daughter – until her mother took her from me and ran off with another foreigner, not for any real reason I gave her, only that he was younger and richer than me.
I fought against the divorce, begged her to come back, but even more to allow me to see my daughter – she didn’t.
That daughter and I also took care of each other’s needs. Her mother, 20 years younger than me and now flush with my foreigner’s love and money, had housekeeper and driver and security guard, so she did little but go shopping, meet with friends and carouse it seems (as I was told later).
I was working then, and we got our daughter into a good kindergarten, where she chose the English name “Sally”.
I didn’t cook for her, but I played games, read stories, and if I was home in time I bathed her, until we began showering together. She loved the shower, and played games, lathered herself multiple times, and eventually began lathering Dad, perhaps deciding she had felt him enough and needed a little more; as it happened, she was at a height in those early years where Dad’s dangling cock was at the right height for her to wash for him.
These times were also not sexual for me with Sally; her mother and I had a great active sex life, and back then I was a deal younger, drank less beer, and had erections more often (than now).
At 5 years of age, we enrolled her into an International School. I had nearly always spoken English with her, complementing her native language her mother and the household staff spoke, and whilst she was shy, she understood well enough the languages as taught, and quite soon added Mandarin Chinese words and phrases.
So as Sally grew, we still did most things together: homework, watched movies, played games, went out, read books every night – and showered together; not every morning or night, just at times when we both needed to shower.
But soon these times became a little more involved, or at least Sally began to be more involved in the shower. This began after I had been promoted and we all moved to an upscale existence in Bangkok.
One Saturday evening when Sally had turned 7y.o, our housekeeper was off for the weekend, her mother away in her home country for a week, leaving only Sally and I at home in our spacious apartment. She often had baths and took care of herself; sometimes I would make sure she used soap everywhere, but she was quite capable. It was only in the shower, which she liked to have with Dad, where she seemed unable to wash herself well, asking for my help and knowing I couldn’t resist her. So I soaped her everywhere, and today, when I washed her bottom cheeks and crack with one hand while my other hand did her pubic front, she moaned and swayed in my hands, leaning against my side-on body.
It was such an intimate moment, and her sounds were so primeval, I could not control the rising of my cock, and it jumped itself against her leg, and then slipped past and, as she turned to face me, my cock jammed itself between her legs, under her pubic area – under her ‘woman’s parts’. She giggled and asked “Why is yours so big Dad!” Oh wow, was this a moment for sex-education or a nonchalant ‘nothing honey’?
I chose the former and calmly said it was just Daddy’s body reacting to the shower water and “…your hands on it…!”…as they now were! I spluttered as Sally’s small hands lathered some soap along the shaft, over the head, and down the other side, my cock growing still more as a consequence.
Sex-education lesson #2: what the hell was it?! Tell her it was ‘bad, so stop’ or tell her it was ‘wonderful, don’t stop’ or get out of the shower hurriedly? None of the above as Sally spoke first, calmly continuing her ministrations as she said “the boys at school aren’t this big when I wash them.”
OMG! I swallowed (wishing for a fleeting moment it was my little girl’s pussy in my mouth to swallow) and tried to retain a semblance of serenity, while telling my cock “GET DOWN!” and yet needing to be stern enough to get the story from her. “What do you mean honey? This is us in the shower; in a minute we will be finished, dried and you will get in pyjamas ready for bed – all normal stuff between Dad and his baby girl. So what is it about the boys at school?”
She proceeded to tell me that she had an ‘itch down there’ one day at lunch, and a boy, big boy from maybe high school she thought, came past where she was sitting for lunch and asked if she had a problem and could he help…and to follow him. She obliged and they went around the back of the cafeteria, where he asked her to lift her dress, pull down her panties and he would apply some cream to help her ‘itch’. “Umm, what did he do to help you after that Sally” a nervous Dad asked?
It seems he had rubbed a little cream on (‘what cream, and rubbed on what?’ Dad wanted to scream), and then asked Sally to help his own itch and wash him also with the cream. It seemed fair, she said, so when he undid his pants and pulled out the dangly thing: “same as yours Daddy, but smaller” and asked her to rub that, she thought it was ok. She giggled “it gets bigger Daddy when it is washed, that’s what happened to yours, right?” I nodded, pale-faced or purple-faced I am not sure, and motioned for her to continue; as it grew, she said, he started funny noises and as she continued to rub the cream in, he groaned loudly and pumped out more cream from the end of his ‘dangly thing’.
So Sally used this cream to further help him, she shrugged, and then he shrank to a small size, and stumbled away – “But he did say ‘thank you’”. “Well, that was nice of him honey to thank you, but I need you to understand you are only 6 years old, so you should just play with your own classmates.”“Oh, but Dad, that boys friends all told me I was such fun and they had a good time with me; but my own class, well, they are boring!”
“That boys friends…? What do you mean honey?” So the tale continues, as told so innocently by my daughter…
It followed that the next day at school, the boy from Day 1 shall we say, came past Sally at lunch and asked if she could help him again with his ‘itch’. He was such a big boy, a senior, and he made Sally feel important, so she nodded as he motioned to come out back again. She gulped her milk, threw her rubbish and plates into the different containers and followed.
But today, he wasn’t alone; he said his friend had the same problem and hoped Sally could help them both…she shrugged and said “You always told me to help friends is a good thing, right Daddy?” I agreed, but qualified my answer by adding: “Friends you know, Sally, not just anybody” to which she rejoined that these boys go to her School and it is supposed to be a ‘Community of Friends’ – “right Dad?” What could I respond, except a nod of my head.
So she did one boy’s (“cock?” she asked, adding that’s what they called it) and when he made the moaning noises and added more cream for her to use, she helped the other boy ‘to feel better too’. (For a fleeting moment, my own thoughts flew to my cock, hardened now of its own natural instincts, and I was grateful she hadn’t lathered mine in the shower enough to make it also add ‘cream’ to help an itch
And they both said “thank you” to me Daddy, so I guess I did help them! I grudgingly acknowledged she had, and reluctantly asked if that was the finish of meeting these boys.
“Oh no, Daddy - it seems a lot of boys, his friends, all have the same problem! So now, every lunch-time, I am really busy – I hardly have time to eat, and now I have to use both hands to help all of them in time. And it is funny how they all moan and groan the same almost, and give me this extra cream to help the next boy, but sometimes it is so much in my hands I have to lick it all up, tastes like salty yoghurt!”
She laughed: an innocent child who gives great hand jobs and slurps cum!
“Tomorrow I will come to School and have lunch with you, ok Sally. We need time to talk to these boys.” My 7 year old smiled “Do you have a problem too, Daddy?” I had to wonder if she was thinking of this as we showered before. “Time to go to bed” I said in response, gave her the ritual good night hug and kiss – noting she turned her mouth to me tonight – and rushed from her room!
I tried to calm down in my own bed, debating whether I should tell her mother the story and ask her…no, no, no – she is a lioness when it comes to anger, and she would not be able to deal with this calmly: I would handle it alone.
The next day I took a half-day off work and drove to Sally’s school; I asked the cafeteria supervisor to join my daughter for lunch, and asked Sally to show me the first boy who had introduced her to his cream. I was sitting opposite Sally, and soon a boy approached the table, perhaps not realizing who I was. He said “Hi Sally” and she said to me “This is the boy I told you about Dad”.
The boy, who seemed to be about 14 or 15, paled and made to head away; I called him back and told him to sit beside me, and gave Sally some money to go and buy a fruit juice.
I began by telling this boy his whole future could depend on his truthfulness and answers in the next few minutes; he nodded, and began speaking by apologizing.
I held up my hand, and sternly told him it was Sally who needed to be apologized to, but that wouldn’t help her now: because of him, a 7 year old girl had learned her first sex activity while believing she was ‘helping friends’. He mumbled a further series of “sorry”, while I chose my words carefully.
“I am not going to report you to the Principal today, but let it be a dire warning to you: you and your friends stay far away from my daughter, stay within your own group, and let the infant children grow up at their own pace, or I certainly will report you. You started this, so the total responsibility lies on your shoulders; make sure your friends are all aware of this conversation – and believe me, it is a threat.”
He mumbled and babbled his agreement, and I ushered him away as Sally returned. She asked if everything was ok, and I said “Fine, sweetie; I found out your friends problems have all disappeared, so you won’t have to help them anymore, and will have more time to eat and play at lunch-time.”
“Does that mean I helped their problem, Daddy?” “Yes, honey, I am sure you did, but they are fine now and won’t interrupt you again, ok?” “Yes, Daddy, but I am happy to know how to help boys now; and I guess that cream did take away my itch too!” I rolled my eyes and made no response.
I only showered with Sally on odd occasions after these events, telling her she was getting so big she didn’t need her Dad to do it; she demurred, saying she liked her Daddy to wash her, but I said “Well, we can’t do it forever, can we honey.” A rhetorical question, but she responded “Why not?” I had no proper answer and could only feel stupid when I said it was just the way things were growing up.
She never complained, but sometimes she appeared to wiggle her bare bottom at me when she went into her own bathroom for her shower or bath; I sighed, knowing my little girl was no longer so little anymore…
Fast forward 4 years, to my 11 year old Sally, and a short time before her mother took her away and asked for a divorce…
One Saturday, Sally and one of her friends from another apartment had been swimming in the apartment complex pool before returning to our place, entering from the lift still dripping and giggling. Sally’s one piece suit was moulded to her lithe body, her long dark hair almost reaching her waist these days: she was adorable and beautiful and destined to be stunning, even as her own mother was.
Her friend, Jill, I had seen before, but never in a bikini – she was an eye-popping 14 year old, bronzed, slim, and a young woman’s body which a man – any man – could not fail to fantasise over. She was the succulent fruit of a handsome Brazilian father and a beautiful Portuguese mother, and she was the epitome of what genes could sometimes accomplish: produce an enhanced version of the donors.
I could do little else than ogle them both when I looked up from reading the newspaper and saw these 2 young girls on their way to becoming women, one decidedly closer already! I couldn’t refrain from stating the obvious: “You girls are certainly going to drive the boys crazy in the future! But for now girls, please get a cloth and wipe your water off the floor so nobody slips over, and I hope you are then heading for a shower.” They giggled and Sally ran to the kitchen to get a cloth, but Jill stood there and asked “Does ‘drive the boys crazy’ mean we are beautiful, Mr. L?” She turned in a pirouette and faced me again, her small breasts thrust forward (and a swollen pubic mound I couldn’t refrain from glancing at) as I confirmed ‘beautiful’ is what it means.
“Do I ‘drive you crazy’ Mr. L? Do you think I am beautiful?” “Trust me, Jill, I may not be a boy now, but a Man can be driven crazy by beauty also – and my answers to your 2 questions are ‘Yes’ and ‘Yes’. Now off to the shower, both of you!” As they disappeared, I pushed my swollen cock down my shorts further, sticking it between my legs to hide it until it subsided, and the blood rush could relax, from my cock and my brain both.
10 minutes later I hear Sally call “Dad, we need a towel for Jill please.” “Ok honey” I replied, heading for the linen cupboard and pulling out a fluffy pink towel and then knocking at their partially open bathroom door, “Sally, here.” Sally pulled the door open and reached for the towel, holding her own towel over her crotch, but allowing me to see her bare upper body, and show me her breasts were indeed more than ‘bumps’ now, and nipples of quite a length jutting out. And then a naked glistening Jill stepped out of the shower stall into my full view.
Oh my, her breasts were indeed beyond Sally’s budding ones, and the golden curls just beginning their covering of her pubic area allowed a mesmerizing look at her slit, not to mention the long legs which stretched up to that V-spot. When I guiltily looked up to her face, she was smiling, but she was actually looking down at the front of my shorts. Sally interrupted me to exclaim “Daddy, you shouldn’t be looking at Jill!” “Oh sorry honey, you’re right – I was just surprised. Sorry”
I was pulling the door to when Jill said “It’s ok Sal, I wanted your Dad to see me and ask him if he thinks I am beautiful. But I guess his eyes gave me the answer.” I groaned; yes, and probably my gaping mouth conveyed a message, not to mention my cock’s instant response, which Jill seemed mature enough to focus her eyes upon.
I went back to the front room, grabbed a beer and sat out on the balcony, musing on the erotica happening before my eyes, in my own place. But I shook my head, got up and turned on the TV to watch some sport, or BBC News, or a movie – anything to stop my mind churning over the images of my daughter and her friend. I heard them exit the bathroom and go to Sally’s room, whispering it seemed to me.
Later they came out and Sally asked “Daddy, what are we doing for dinner? “ I thought about it for a moment; my wife had gone back to her home country for 2 weeks, another of her increasingly frequent trips, and we had given the housekeeper the weekend off.
“What about we go to the Lao Steak restaurant out on the lake?” “Oh great, Dad - and can Jill come with us, please, please, and stay over tonight?” I gulped, “Well ok, but you have to ask your parents first Jill.” “Let’s go now” Jill said and they ran out holding hands to Jill’s apartment down the stairs one floor.
I quivered as I wondered if this was a good idea, but certainly I would have plenty of thoughts to stimulate me when I went to bed tonight and needed to ease my own sexual longings.
The girls soon returned, Jill carrying a small bag, and clothes over her shoulder; clearly her parents had agreed. I smiled, they beamed at me, and I said we would leave about 18.00, telling them “And just because you are young women doesn’t mean you have to keep old Dad waiting an extra hour!” They giggled and ran off, Sally calling back “You’re not old Dad, just middle-aged.” “Oh thanks, honey, just what a man likes to hear!” Jill then stopped and faced me as she added “You’re not even middle-aged, Mr. L – I think you are still a crazy boy!” and they skipped into the room and closed the door. Was this a good idea, I wondered yet again, and thankfully dozed off for my afternoon nap…
At 18.00 I was ready, and turned to BBC News, not expecting the girls for a while, but they surprised me and appeared a few minutes later, parading in front of me, seeking my approval it seemed. Heaven help me, but they looked as if 3 or 4 years had passed in the past 2 hours, and now stood there were 2 incredible, beautiful, desirable young ladies, both with a little makeup, and both dressed to show off their respective bodies.
Sally wore a tight-fitting – well, what does a Dad know about clothes? A body suit I thought it, showing off her little boobs and the suppleness and slim body which lay beneath. Her long legs made the image even more beautiful and provocative, and she seemed to feel she was about a 15 year old young woman – I couldn’t disagree. Jill looked 17 or 18, wearing a swirling dress cut above her knees, high heels carried in her hand (as we don’t wear shoes in the house here in Asia), and a low-cut neckline, showing her cleavage and her inviting breasts, uplifted but unsupported by a bra I realised. As I stared, I would even swear her nipples grew and poked out the sheer material harder under my gaze!
I had also given the driver the night off, so I ushered them out the door, Jill holding on to my arm as she put on her heels, adding about 8-10cms to her height and bringing her coquettish lips closer, towards my mouth.
I drove us to the restaurant, about 30 minutes away, depending on traffic. The girls had been quiet on the trip, both sitting in the rear – for which I was happy as less distracting that way, and no chance either would see the uncomfortable boner in my pants.
We sat at a table by the lakeside, a gentle breeze wafting over us, but not cold. The girls discussed their meals while the waitress brought my beer, and I relaxed, waiting for them to decide. I was on one side of the table, Jill opposite me and Sally beside her; as they chatted, I couldn’t fail to notice Jill as she leant down over the menu, her cleavage accentuated enough to raise images of hidden wonders below.
I shook my head, and looked up, straight into Jill’s smiling, disarmingly sensual face and twinkling eyes; she knew where I had been staring, and she wanted me to know it was ok.
She shook her bountiful hair out in a swirl and asked me “And what would you like to eat tonight Mr. L?” What a loaded question to ask of a man who was feeling the rapidly growing need to unload, and be rid of this sexual tension. “I will have my usual pork steak; and you girls?” They both chose BBQ spare ribs, and I groaned at the thought of the mess, something I don’t enjoy on my own face and fingers with food.
We ordered the food, the girls allowed one mildly alcoholic, but beautifully presented cocktail of their choice, and I smoked while drinking my beer and looking out over the water.
I was roused, quite literally, by a foot probing my thighs and into my groin; I nervously looked around, then across the table at Jill, her smile seemingly permanent while here for dinner. “Where’s Sally?” “Gone to the toilet, Daddy; it’s just you and me for a minute, isn’t this fun. I didn’t want you falling asleep, so I had to wake you up!”
Her foot rested where she must feel my ‘awakening’ cock, so I straightened in my chair, and gently used my hands to move her foot away and down. But this gave me another jolt in my penis, as her foot was so slender and soft, and her toes seemed to curl against my skin, almost caressing my hands. I groaned, and Jill asked “Are you ok Mr. L, do you like my foot? Does it ‘drive my boy crazy’?”
I could only groan again as she swept her foot out of my hands and straight up against my pulsating cock, throbbing against her rubbing foot; “oh, yes, my boy is awake and crazy, aren’t you Mr. L?” She was claiming me for herself; this 14 - or 18 - year old sensed her ownership claim on me, and I knew I couldn’t allow this – it was against all reason and morality, let alone the Law, and that rational part of my brain still functioning said ‘this was a bad idea’. My cock answered ‘no, it was a wonderful idea’.
With a sigh of gratefulness, I saw Sally returning, and I stood unsteadily, mumbling that I was going to the toilet, and I wiped my damp brow and hands on a tissue, glancing at a demure, smiling Jill sitting at the table: a perfect young lady.
When I returned, calmer somewhat, the food had arrived, and the girls had already begun. I watched them for a moment, ordered water, and then began cutting my own food. As the first forkful was on its way to my mouth, I looked across at Jill: she was sucking her fingers clean of BBQ sauces, but the way she was cleaning herself was as erotic and sexual as anything I have ever seen. It was as if each finger was a cock to be sucked into a greedy mouth, tickled and seduced, and slurped at until it could be labeled ‘cleaned’ after erupting in jets of creamy sauce. Her eyes were watching me, knowingly tempting me, knowingly rousing my cock and beckoning it towards her mouth.
I looked at Sally, who had a curious expression on her face also from looking at me, and I began to chat with her for a few moments, in an attempt to just get my brain on to other thoughts – other than the almost incestuous ones I was having about Jill. It was better to think of Sally, I told myself, but then stopped: ‘no, no, that’s not what I meant; I wasn’t thinking of Sally the same way!’ Was I?
I returned to eating my own food, without another glance for 10 minutes until I was finished and I heard the girls complaining of eating too much and getting fat. I smiled: perhaps we were back to simple ‘little girls’ out for dinner with Dad/father of friend. I sat back and also gave a sigh of contentment, asking both girls if they had enjoyed the food. “Yes” they both replied, but added that the second cocktail they had drunk was also enjoyable! How had I missed that, I wondered; how had they convinced the waitress it was ok to have another? I had no answer and seemed I should accept that, today and tonight, I was out of my comfort zone as an adult and a dad, and the new generation was in control.
One glance at Jill was all I needed to confirm this hypothesis as true.
Just prior to paying the bill and leaving, both Sally and I needed to go to the toilet, so we walked together holding hands, leaving Jill smiling at the table. As we reached the fork leading right and left to each gender’s toilets, Sally yanked my hand down, and asked in a plaintive tone “Do you love me Daddy?” I almost cried with love, as I knelt down to cuddle her and whispered “You are my first and best love in the whole world, my little one” and I kissed her on her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around my waist and said “I love you Daddy. But do you love me more than Jill? I hope so Daddy, because I am your baby girl forever.”
I was taken aback, held her and tried to speak slowly and without fear “Sal, I only love you. Jill is your friend, and a lovely young girl, but I can’t love her, and certainly not the way I love you. Come on, off to the toilet for me.” “Ok Daddy, but Jill said you have ‘fallen in love’ with her – where did you fall Daddy?” I gently laughed and said Jill was maybe just teasing, and I had to run as I needed go to the toilet quickly. She smiled and scampered off, promising to wait back here when she had finished.
I needed the relative hidden space of the toilet to fight to get my hardened cock out of my underpants and through the zipper, just to be able to see it and try and mind-wilt it down to a reasonable size. It took 3 minutes or so standing with it in my hand over the urinal before I could let go my thoughts and do a small piss. I stuffed the mindless creature back inside, washed my hands and went out, holding Sally’s hand again, and then beckoning Jill to join us.
Jill ran over and grabbed my other hand, smiling up at me – with her heels on she was so much closer to my lips – and then she wrapped my hand within an embrace of her arms and held it closely under her …breasts.
As fast as I could get us to the car, we headed home, but I insisted both girls sit again in the back, even though both offered to sit up front and ‘keep me company’. At home, I allowed the girls to stay up a while, but as I wanted to watch the football, they soon found that boring and announced they were going to bed; it was 21.30 and they had had a reasonably busy day.
I asked Jill to call her parents and let them know we were home and they were going to bed; after saying this, she proffered the phone to me and said “Dad would like to talk with you”. I took the phone as I scooted the girls off to the bathroom to clean teeth, as I said hello and listened to Raul for a minute. We said ‘bye’ and hung up the phone.
I had no chance to digest Raul’s words as then they both came to say good night after they had changed into their night attire: Sally liked my old t-shirts, and they were still – just – long enough for her to be ‘decent’ especially as she didn’t like to wear panties to bed; Jill had a red silk nightie on: a see-through nightie which came to just below her buttocks and looked 2 sizes too small for her these days.
I moaned and rolled my eyes as Sally came to give me a kiss and our ritual hug, followed by Jill who asked for the same; I put my arms loosely around her back and leaned to kiss her forehead, but she raised her head and her mouth met mine as I bent down, and her tits pasted themselves against my chest as she wrapped her arms around me tightly, squeezing me against her.
I blurred within my senses, even more when she forced her tongue inside my lips and sought battle with my own, sucking and slurping, making me feel more aroused than I had felt for a long time. I lingered, fighting myself, and even tried to twist my own tongue around hers, and I plunged into her mouth – for a moment, I could have swept her into my arms and carried her off to make love, hard, passionate love, such were the feelings she had aroused in me throughout this day…and she melted against me, my cock rigid and upright and bouncing against her belly… But instead I took hold of her arms, breaking the bond, and kissed her on the forehead at a discreet distance, and told them to sleep well, with nice dreams!
Sally came running, back for another hug and whispered “I wish you would eat me like that Daddy! I love you.” She cuddled my waist, also pushing against my still-risen cock, and looked at me and smiled, “Do you have a problem Daddy?” She giggled and ran away with her t-shirt flopping up to show a bare bottom, followed by the intoxicatingly sinuous legs and body of Jill; a last throw of her hair and she faced me to blow a kiss and a smile, as she tweaked at her nipples.
I couldn’t watch TV, read a book, drink enough to be drunk, couldn’t do anything to take my mind off Jill especially, but Sally kept popping in and out of my visions also. Was I a perverted Dad? No, that thought was banished as I told myself I was not thinking ‘dirty’ thoughts, but rather loving, albeit incestuous thoughts, and the dreams, the visions, were of a loving nature, not of a ‘dad rapes his daughter and her best friend’ nature.
I was just turned on like never before; my underpants were soaked with pre-cum, and even my pants showed the wetness, so I went to my room, showered and put on shorts.
It was after my shower, when I had made a straight whisky and sat out on the balcony, relaxing and enjoying a cigarette, the breeze, and the quiet, that Raul’s words came back to me: “I hope Jill is behaving, send her home if she doesn’t! She is growing up like her mother: a tease, a nymph, a magician, and she is aware she can wrap me around her little finger – so be careful of yours! Have fun!”
Eventually, I made a second whisky, and when I began to feel sleepy, I finished, washed up the few glasses, cleaned my teeth and gargled, and went to bed…perchance to dream…
I was wakened by hands sliding up and down my limp prick, and to a voice whispering “Daddy, are you awake?” Not wanting an answer really, the hands of the voice kept going, while I lay groggily in my bed, on my back, just under the sheet and naked as I always slept, desperately trying to clear the fog from my brain, and to stay soft and unexciting, hoping Sally – it must be Sally! – would return to her own bed. Sally!
This thought jolted me fully awake, and I put my hands down to stop those on my prick, exclaiming “Sal, stop, we can’t do this!” A little chuckle was followed by “No, not Sally, Mr. L – your ‘other’ daughter tonight, it’s Jill! Relax Mr. L, I do this to my Daddy all the time; he says it helps him sleep better…so I thought I would help you the same.” But I was asleep, I thought stupidly.
With that comment, she clasped my dick again, gently, softly, but also firmly, as if it was hers to control and own; which seemingly she did as it began rising against my wishes, almost like magic ( ah, that’s what her father had called Jill: a magician) and her hands widened to now accommodate the widening, lengthening snake before her.
She sighed, and then she licked the head of my cock, and I gasped and I raised my hips from the bed as she placed me in her mouth; “oh, oh, Jill we shouldn’t do this…”
My useless entreaty babbled away to nothing but moans as her expert mouth and hands – she was an expert! – licked my cock head’s pre-cum and then licked that on to her hands, moistening them to allow easier sliding up and down my shaft.
My cock was now throbbing, and quivering, and jumping within her hands; she giggled “It has a life of its own, doesn’t it Daddy” as she seemed to allow it to escape her hands and then grab my cock as if catching the snake from escaping. I could feel the excitement rising, my senses strained to the brink by the child-woman fondling me, the nature of what we were doing, and the effects she had had on me all afternoon, evening, and now night. It was stressful as my bodily desires fought with my rational and moral knowledge and observance hitherto, until the moment when she placed my rod back into her mouth – and swallowed it!
“Oh, heaven help me!” I pleaded, as Jill devoured me, her mouth up and down my shaft like no-one had; how could she do this? A young waif of a girl, but with a mouth and deep throat which seemed easily able to take, without much effort, all of my 18cms or so (I hadn’t ever measured myself, and knew I wasn’t huge, but for a young girl…?) She was doing just fine, and I couldn’t stop her; yes, I should, but I was ruled by carnal thoughts by now and they didn’t include ‘stopping’.
I gave into the feelings, the taboo act which was being undertaken so diligently by a 14 year old, going on 18 for sure, as she succulently grasped my cock in her mouth, her teeth rasping gently along the sides as she continued coming up and down, and my own cum began building to cum as well.
I warned her, putting my hands gently on her head, waving my fingers through her beautiful hair “Jill, you need let go, I am going to make a mess very, very soon” but she only murmured “ummm” and sucked, if anything, closer to my shaft, fondling my balls and seeming to lightly squeeze them to release their load up that shaft she was so wonderfully retaining in her mouth.
I couldn’t hold back; my fingers held her hair, then I stroked the face at my groin, and if I could have I would have kissed her so fully, but what she was doing was all for me, and she never stopped as my cock, engorged on my blood, could take no more stimulation before it blew like Mt. Vesuvius and the most exhilarating climax I had ever felt erupted into Jill’s mouth, her throat and it seemed down into her stomach!
For the next minute and a half or an hour – how could I judge time in heaven – she sucked me as dry as the proverbial bone, and seemed to have eaten her second dinner of the night. She kissed my prick, gentle pecks as if she knew now it would be super-sensitive, then made her kissing way up my tense abdomen, to each of my nipples, pausing to suck on them for a few moments, and then my throat, for a tiny nibbling action with her teeth, as she finally raised her whole body into the bed and sinuously spread herself up my body when she had reached my face, and my mouth with her own.
Her mouth covered mine and she kissed me, softly, perfectly for that moment as I also needed to feel her thighs drawn up across mine, and her breasts laying across mine, and even her feet rubbing languidly up and down and across my legs: she was a near-perfect lover. The sensations were so overwhelming, so enveloping, so…everything, I couldn’t speak all the superlatives I could have given her, wanted to give her. Instead, I wrapped my arms around her body, and kissed her mouth in return. It was romantic, not a lust-filled kiss, just a kiss of tenderness and love for what she had just given me: herself.
I wanted to ask, and raised my mouth from hers: “Jill, how can you know exactly what to do to me?” but I only had the word “Jill…” out of my mouth before she held my chin with one hand, whispered “ssshhh, it doesn’t matter if we both enjoyed what we did…” and clamped her lips and tongue back to mine for another lingering minute.
Then she rose, her body un-sticking itself to mine, kissed me lightly on the forehead, purred “I will be back” and she drifted away like a wraith.
It was a dream. It had to be a dream as I woke with light flaring at the window, and my cock flaring in size at the hands and mouth around it, again. I felt groggy again, not fully waking, feeling as if I had just fallen asleep a little while, but my body was responding nevertheless.
My cock knew when it was being stimulated, whether its bearer was awake or asleep, so I left my eyes closed and gave in to the ministrations of the silent cock sucker, presuming it was Jill returning as she had said. I couldn’t ignore the ecstasy of last night, so I allowed it, was allowing it to happen again. Somewhere in my brain, my conscious rationales, I knew it was wrong, but I allowed it.
Until I realized, with sudden wakefulness, that these hands were tiny, and this mouth was tiny…and the smell of hair permeating the below-sheet area and wafting to my nose was of Sally, not Jill! I jumped away, up the bed and brought my legs up to my chin – as ridiculous as this would look to a head under the sheet, staring at a hanging ball sac and stiffened cock! “It’s me Daddy, Sally! Please come back down, Jill told me this would be the perfect way to wake you up, and she taught me what to do.” I lifted the sheet, and there she was, smiling at me: my own daughter, 11 years old.
I reached down and found her elbows, pulling her lightweight body up my body until her face was level with mine. I gave her a gentle kiss on the lips and cuddled her, knowing my cock was twitching between us, pushed to face upwards by her stomach, which was bared by her nightie having also been pushed up.
But I ignored this as I rubbed her hair between my fingers and stroked her cheeks. She sighed and I knew now was the time: “Sally, I love you, my baby girl, but we can’t do things like this.” I put my finger to her lips as she began to protest, and continued in a soothing voice “I know you are growing up, and some time in the future – quite a few years more I hope – you will have someone to love and show them this type of love. But not between your Dad and you, honey, it’s a serious matter and complicated, and better it should not start. Do you understand?”
“No, Daddy, Jill told me if we love each other, this is how we can show it. Is that wrong?” “Jill is not wrong, honey, but she is a few years older than you so she looks at things a little differently.”
“No, she isn’t wrong, but between you and me there are other ways to show our love…like this!” I tickled her ribs and, as she laughed, she rolled off me and tumbled out of the bed to the floor.
I picked her up, kissed her lightly again, and sent her off to her room, telling her “If Jill asks ‘did you do it?’ you can say ‘Dad and I make love our way’. That is true my little one. When you and Jill are ready, I will make us breakfast; now scoot!”
At breakfast, after a sheepish glance at Jill, who was smiling and effusive, I tried to stay in the role of Dad and just be natural; it was difficult whenever I was close to Jill and felt the electric jolts of memory and longing which tingled in my groin, but I managed. After breakfast, the girls washed the dishes, and then trotted off to play in Jill’s apartment, Jill coming up to give me a lingering kiss and say “Thanks for having me Mr. L, I’ll see you soon, my ‘crazy boy’”.
They left me alone to let out a sigh, both of contentment and tension released, thoughts of a future repeat quickly quashed and discarded as best I could.
I spent the morning working, and the afternoon between napping and watching the sport, and it wasn’t until bath time that Sally reappeared, saying they had stayed in the apartment and had a swim in the pool. She didn’t need a bath again, and the housekeeper was back and had prepared a dinner, so we ate quietly, and once finished, Sally announced she was tired and wanted to go to sleep. A kiss and hug for Daddy, and I followed her and tucked her in, hearing her even breathing even before I closed the door.
The next day was a new work and school week, so the days passed uneventfully; I had to go away overnight Thursday, but Sally was ok in the apartment with the housekeeper, just giving me, and me her, an extra tight hug and longer kiss ‘‘bye, Sally girl, Daddy loves you, see you tomorrow.
Unbeknown to me, my wife returned that day, and when I returned home from my trip Friday evening, calling out “Hi Sally” as I walked in the door, she had packed their clothes and some personal items, and she and Sally had left me to fly home to Vietnam. She had left a note which the housekeeper gave me quietly and sadly, informing me she had found another man and wanted a divorce.
I slumped on the sofa, accepting a beer the housekeeper offered me sympathetically, and stared incomprehensibly at the note: I had given her a better life since we had met 8 years ago, 6 of them in marriage, of that I was sure; any material item she wanted, she got; land which her very smart brain told her to buy, we bought; she had service staff, a car and driver available to her, no need to work and lived life as she wanted. Materially, she could not have wanted more – could she?
Ok, so marriage to me and my job was not always easy, not always enough time for her, but I hadn’t known it was so bad, she needed to replace me.
But the killing blow was to take Sally from me, and her Daddy from Sally. Sally and I were so close, we did everything together; perhaps her mother was jealous of our special relationship…? True, Sally and I shared more love, time and fun and, in a sense, we were more like the married couple - except for the physical (though I recalled how that almost entered our relationship also!) But to break us up was cruel and I couldn’t accept that.
Our housekeeper, Pung, though only young, had been very good to us for 3 years, had learned to speak and understand Vietnamese, even as my wife and daughter had learned Thai, and she also would miss Sally (though Madam had been a strict mistress of the house). Pung came and sat in a chair near me, and told me what she knew. It was then I began sobbing as I listened:
Madam had arrived early the previous day, I had left for the airport, Sally had gone to school, and Madam then ordered Pung to begin packing suitcases and some boxes. All day they worked at this, until Madam announced: “That’s everything for now.”
When Sally arrived home, she naturally asked what was going on, and her mother told her they were flying home to live. Pung said Sally cried and said she loved it here, friends and school, the apartment, Pung, and Daddy’s work staff…everything! Her mother ignored her until Sally asked “When is Daddy coming over?” Pung said Madam glared and icily told Sally to ‘forget this Daddy, he is not in our life now; I have a new, better Daddy waiting for you’. Sally gushed with tears and ran out of the apartment, yelling “I want my Daddy”.
Today, Madam had kept Sally home from school, telling Pung to tell the bus driver Sally would not need picking up or dropping home anymore; told Pung to call my driver to come and collect the bags, called the school to say Sally was returning to Vietnam, and gave Pung the note to give me. Then she collected her handbag and final carry-on, and bundled a screaming Sally down to the car; and left. Now, even Pung was crying, as she hadn’t even been given a moment to say ‘bye to Sally.
Pung offered to stay for the weekend, not leave me alone, but I thanked her and sent her off; with only myself to care for, Pung could have her weekend with her own friends and family. She came to give me a compassionate hug, looked me in the eyes as if to say ‘I am here for you’, and kissed me gently, sweetly on the cheek, brushing her breasts across my chest as she released me. I smiled kindly and thanked her, holding her hand for just a few moments, and then pulling her back into my embrace.
I hugged her, knowing it was a reflexive act to the kindness she was showing me in my despair, but allowing it as I had no-one else to hold on to now. She stroked my back with one hand, like a mother soothing her child, and brushed away the tears with her other hand, slim fingers on my cheeks as I buried my sodden face down into the crook of her neck: an old despairing man, feeling as if Life had just vanished from him, thus seeking the comfort of a soft young body with Life yet to live, yet offering it to me.
But I was not totally devoid of rational thought, and even as I put my lips to hers, I knew now was not the time for this. Pung might be willing to give herself to me in my need, but that wasn’t right – not for her anyway. So I gently grasped her arms and stepped back, smiling my thanks and only mumbling the words “Go and have a good weekend, Pung. See you Sunday.” She gave me a last, lingering, thoughtful look and smiled as she turned “Yes, Mr. L”.
I drank too much, stripped and went to bed after getting no answer from my repeated calls to my wife’s mobile.
Saturday was worse; I hadn’t brought any work home to do, wanting to make up for being away by giving my time to Sally. I could go to the office and do some, or collect and bring home, but I knew my concentration level was at a minimum, and my puffy eyes and demeanor would only raise questions from whoever else might be at work – I wasn’t ready for questions.
I drank instead, more frequently with each can picking up my phone and dialing…yet again, no answer from my wife. Now is the first time I regret not allowing Sally to have a mobile of her own, as ‘my friends do’ she kept using as a reason, but now I wished she had one I could call.
I let the afternoon pass in a haze, sitting on the sofa in my shorts, a can constantly in my hand – I would need send out for more, the thought occurred – and must have napped a dozen times. Eventually a cooling breeze stirred across my chest, and I shivered and woke to see the setting sun just dip below the skyline. I groaned but at least had the sense to close the door a little and then walk groggily to the bathroom for a piss, an attempted shave, and a shower, even able to wash my hair ok.
I didn’t put any clothes on, closed the balcony door further against the breeze, and sat on the sofa with yet another beer; I picked up the phone and pressed redial: no answer; perhaps she has bought a new sim card. I let the phone fall to the sofa, and my hand holding the beer fall limply to my lap, sitting on top of my cock, and thinking of Sally.
The front door opened and in walked Jill, followed by a taller, older girl; “we thought you would have need of some company” Jill said, as she crossed to stand behind me, took my face in her hands as she leaned down and turned my face upwards to meet her mouth, tongue barging in to find mine. She finally broke the kiss, my fogged mind still only at the front door-opening stage, and said “This is my friend Chris, she wanted to meet you. Chris, this is my other Daddy.”
Chris took the beer can from my hand, took a long swallow, settled herself astride my legs, and allowed the beer from her mouth to slowly trickle down the front of her nylon shirt, turning her head enough to allow each nipple to be coated, wetted and becoming pointy, then the remainder seemed to glide of its own accord down to her pussy. As my eyes followed this incredible display, Chris said “Hi, Mr. L, Jill tells me you have a beautiful cock!”
The item in question jumped as Jill giggled “I was right wasn’t I Chris. We are here to help you Mr. L; I said I would see you soon – here I am and here we are”. I lost control….
(End of Part 1, perhaps a Part 2 to cum…)
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