"Sex With Daddy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jones Stephen A.)

Chapter 9

After that afternoon affair of ours, Daddy and I took a swim together in the apartment pool, then came back and shared a martini before having dinner. Our conversation was casual and happy, but I knew that there was something definitely wrong with me. For some time, I couldn't put my finger on it, but then just before sitting down to dinner – possibly because of the second martini – I realized what it was.

Even though I had thought my multiple orgasms of just scant hours before had completely sated me, I was still wildly desirous of sexual gratification. What I still didn't realize was the fact that, subconsciously at any rate, Sally was still on my mind and I was in a state of desire for a particular gratification. What that particular form of gratification was, I still didn't know and wasn't to realize until long after I had finished cleaning the evening's dinner dishes and had joined Daddy in the living room to read.

I only began to understand what was bothering me as we both stepped into our mutual shower. It was as if, through some strange mental process, I had reverted to my childhood again for I began staring at his penis as I had years ago and I felt a wild surge of desire to take it in my mouth right then and there in the shower.

Impetuously I knelt in the shower allowing the spray of water to spatter on my hair and, with a violence I didn't know I possessed, took Daddy's organ in my mouth and sucked it into a state of throbbing erection. But even then I couldn't stop! I seemed to be all mouth, with one goal only in life – to lick and suck and lave – and that's what I did with a wild, passionate frenzy, a frenzy so intense that Daddy was almost instantly forced to pull away from me to ejaculate.

It had all happened with such blinding speed and such unexplainable lust on my part, that I was slightly shocked. What I hadn't realized at the time was that my motive was to make Daddy incapable of any further sexual contact that night in order to try an experiment to test my love for him.

Really, I wanted to test my desire for the male sex against that of the female. But at the time, I could not have told even myself that. All I knew was that I had an uncontrollable urge to perform fellatio on my father – to bring him to completion right there in the shower.

When it was over, neither of us spoke, but we did exchange surprised looks. He helped me dry my hair and we brushed our teeth. Then, as usual, we both went to the master bedroom which we shared and to the big bed in the center ' of the room.

Daddy lay on his side quietly smoking a cigarette and I also lay staring at the ceiling fitfully smoking one of my own. Finally, he turned to me, rested his head on one arm and asked, "What's the matter, kitten?"

"Nothing," I said with just an edge of spite in my voice. "Nothing at all."

"Come on now, sweetheart," he urged. "I can feel it."

"Oh, leave me alone!" I pouted.

Again there was silence for a moment before Daddy spoke. Sometimes his understanding was uncanny, only this time he didn't know what his "sensing the problem" was exactly what I had probably had in mind from the first.

"You're frustrated, aren't you?" he asked.

I shook my head, but apparently he sensed the lie and, with gentle fingers reached out and began to slide his hand up and down my stomach, around my tense navel and along the edges of my sexual lips.

"Don't worry, kitten," he assured me as his skilled fingers hit fibre after fibre of pure sensation. "There's still pleasure for you."

Of course, I knew what he was talking about – or at least I sensed what was to come for I had actually set about to make it possible. What I had done with malice aforethought was to try to completely emasculate the man I loved in order to force him into a woman's sexual role.

I knew he could no longer use his penis after our exhausting affair of the afternoon and after my oral ministrations in the shower. Now, he would have to caress my body as a woman would caress it – with only the use of his fingers and mouth.

Consumed by this one thought, which I couldn't even recognize at the time, I became wild with a burning desire to test him against – what? I still didn't know at the time.

Panting and writhing as I lay on my back, I murmured again and again that I wanted and needed him. But I refused to reach out to touch his organ either with my hand or my lips. Instead, I lay there waiting for him to make the move that I knew had to come sooner or later.

Slowly, gently, his fingers moved down my belly, past my navel, along the taut muscles of my lower abdomen and twitching thighs until they found the outer lips of my steaming sexual parts. They lingered there for an agonizing eternity that couldn't in point of fact have lasted longer than a second or two before they slipped into the wet folds of my welcoming love opening.

Then, slowly and gently at first, but with added speed and pressure – with a quick fluttering, like some butterfly of pure passion – they began to stroke and titillate my erect clit, sending electric shocks of ecstasy sliding through me like the silent waves of heat lightning on a summer evening.

Even though the sensation was almost total and almost complete, it was not enough! I lay there mentally writhing in my passion, yet not visibly responding. I wanted him to thrill me as he never had before, while I did nothing but enjoy.

He played with me like that for some time before, still with his fingers in me, he gently slid his long, muscular body down the length of mine and began caressing me with the soft brush of his lips. First against my hips, then down the insides of my thighs almost to my knees and finally up again, this time letting his tongue dart little lines of desire along the burning surface of my eager flesh.

When his tongue finally reached the cauldron of my desire, I was in a state of contradiction. Part of me wanted to wrap my lower limbs around him and pull his head closer to me – to embrace him as I had never embraced him before – but the other half of me held me rigid and outwardly unresponsive.

I lay flat on my back without even bending my knees as he gently massaged my throbbing sexual parts with his lips and tongue – as he found my clitoris – and with a gentle passion I hardly knew existed, began to massage it with his skilled mouth. Still I could not let myself respond. I was analyzing every move as if what we were doing was not love but some sort of bizarre scientific experiment. I wanted to see to what extent he could really thrill me! I held myself back to savor every tingle, every surge, of pure pleasure that shot through me like velvet lightning-bolt after velvet lightning-bolt.

I let him caress me like that for almost half an hour, letting his fingers stroke my erect nipples as his tongue laved my vagina and fuck-button. Suddenly I could hold out no longer.

It seemed as if my mind and body gave way at the same time and, with a spasm that was both emotional and physical, I let my whole body follow the course it had wanted so desperately to follow long before. My hips lifted as if of their own accord and my knees bent with them. I gripped Daddy around the neck and threw my arms down over his head and I came… and came… and came… until I was still coming with no more pleasure left to experience within me!

I lay there thrilling with remembrance of pleasure for long moments after all feeling had washed out of me and shattered in a silent fury of golden oil – hot and scented – that covered my entire universe and had drowned me in it.

It had been wonderful – almost as wonderful as having actual intercourse, and I was both thrilled and exhausted by it.

Now, as I turned in the bed, I threw my arm around Daddy's muscular chest and, with my face buried in his chest, fell into a cozy safe sleep.

But with the morning, my doubts had not left me. All was wonderful at breakfast and I think I loved Daddy more than I ever had, but I still had a nagging desire to test myself. He was the only person who had really known me sexually and I had a perverse desire to see if others could thrill me as much.

I didn't know what I was doing. I only knew that, after he left for his first class that morning, I immediately went to the phone and dialed Sally's number. When she answered, I managed to stammer something incoherent before controlling myself sufficiently to ask her if she wanted to come over for a swim.

She told me that she had a few things to do before she could leave but that she would be over in about an hour. I hung up the phone and returned to my chores of clearing and washing the breakfast dishes, but I was nervous and ill at ease.

When I opened the refrigerator to put the butter back, I noticed the package of wieners that had been opened the day before. I stared at them for some t»me, before something made me reach out and take one from the package.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen, running my fingers over the length of it for several moments – as if in a trance – I untied the belt of my housecoat and squatted just enough to be able to press the end of the wiener into my vagina.

I felt no thrill whatsoever – only the cold sensation of the refrigerated meat against my inner flesh. Yet, something compelled me to manipulate my clitoris with the fingers of the other hand until I was sufficiently lubricated to press the wiener up inside me.

I can't say it felt good; but it wasn't bad, either – it was strange. I could feel it in me as a nice pressure that was cold, but it was not as thrilling as a prick and certainly not as exciting as warm human lips caressing my tenderest parts.

In disgust, I pulled the hot dog out of my hole and placed it back in the package from which it had come. Then I finished my chores and waited for Sally to arrive.

I knew why I hadn't put on a bathing suit and why I had remained in my housecoat but I still couldn't face the fact. I was still trying to talk myself into the fact that we were just two girls going for a swim in the pool.

But in the inner, secret part of my mind, I knew the "swim" would have nothing to do with water and the "pool" would be one of frothing desire.

After I had straightened the kitchen, I had enough foresight to go into my room and pull the covers of my bed down so that it looked as if it had been slept in. However, I did not make the slightest effort to change my clothes. I only walked to the mirror and opened my housecoat wide so that I could inspect my adolescent body.

Looking at myself, I went through a moment's daydream. I was curved like a woman, and built like a woman. My hips and breasts were formed and my pubic hair was grown. I don't know what made me do it, but I walked to the mirror and gently placed my own lips against the reflection. Contact with the cold mirror brought me back to total awareness again. It was as if I had been in a trance. Quickly, I retied my housecoat and returned to the living room where I sat down on the couch, lit a cigarette, and waited for Sally to get there.