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Spitting

By: Selena_Kitt



Ohhh no, not another essay to stir the debate about whether or not you should spit or swallow his cum after a blowjob!

Actually, no.

I want too talk about spit, as in saliva--and spitting.

You see, during a blowjob, saliva is your best friend.

This clear, amazing, renewable liquid is your major source of lubrication while you're sucking cock. It's a good thing our mouths just keep making more when there's something in it, isn't there? Heat, wetness and friction are what cocks love, and most men will find it hard to discern which they like better, the slick sheath of a pussy or the hot suck of a mouth. 

Saliva helps your mouth mimic the wet warmth of your pussy, but there are lots of fun things you can do with saliva to make things more interesting in the bedroom -- or wherever it is you happen to be sucking cock. *wink*

Are you ready?

Sexy string No, I'm not talking about the thong -- or butt floss, as it were. I'm talking about saliva. There's something incredibly sexy about that long, unbroken string of saliva from the head of his cock to your mouth. Let him see it streeeetch out... break... and then dribble down your chin. Trust me, it's not gross. Even if it feels that way. In the heat of the moment, with your eyes looking up at him, that one deliberate act is going to be so hot he'll have to do everything he can not to come right there on the spot. 

Drool It's not just for babies and invalids anymore! Your mouth is going to make a lot of saliva during a blowjob - a lot. Let some of it slide down and wet your chin...even your chest and breasts. Rub his cock over your cheeks so they shine and glisten with your saliva and his precum. His eyes will light up like a little kid on Christmas morning opening the last Wii Toys R Us had in stock. 

Spitting Okay, some people find this just too gross for words, I know. But spitting during sex isn't the same as spitting out your car window. Just like real estate, it's location location location! With the right person, in the right context, at the right moment... spitting can be really, incredibly hot. 

Now, I'm not talking about hawking a loogie here (that really is gross! And incidentally, that's a fly by night spelling because, sadly, loogie is not officially in the dictionary... but I digress!) I'm talking about using that magical mouth lubricant to your advantage and making a bold, daring move. There's something about that taboo act, something we normally think of as "nasty" or "dirty" which transforms in the midst of the sex act to something of an outrageous turn-on. 

Think I'm kidding? Watch some "throat job" porn. Or, hell, just try it yourself on your guy, and watch his reaction. Granted, there are a few guys out there who don't like it -- who will give you the impression that you, someone of the feminine persuasion, should be much too ladylike to make such a gesture. 

Of course, these are usually the guys who list, "walking on the beach at sunset" as one of their hobbies on Facebook, because they think it's what women really want to hear. But what are the odds he's being honest? Perhaps if men weren't always wondering what it is we women want or like, they'd be able to fill their "hobbies" section with the truth and "Watching NFL Monday night football and women spitting on my cock during a blowjob" just might make the list!

But if you've got a guy who likes it when you talk like a dirty sailor or enjoys it immensely when you call him Daddy once in a while during sex, I imagine the cock-spitting maneuver is one can you add to your repertoire without too much risk of some sort of negative reaction. 

And while it might sound gross, you won't know until you try, right? 

So gather your courage... and some of your saliva in your mouth... and spit it onto the head of his cock, working it in with your hand. And then do it again. If you're brave enough to try it, you might be surprised by his groan of appreciation and a tell-tale thickening of his cock in your mouth!

So the bottom line is this: don't be afraid of the spit! It's not time to be ladylike. It's time to let go and get wild and messy. You and your saliva should be BFF when you're giving your man oral pleasure-so don't forget to use and be thankful for those salivary glands!

Spitting Contest



BY: Hungry Guy and Mistress Silvina

Silvina walked down the sidewalk toward Paula's apartment. Her ashen white skin glowed amid the crowd of golden people of Buenos Aires. 

Her brown hair blew in the strong wind of the Zonda that had brought in hot dry air from the interior of Argentina. 

She rubbed the sweat from the brutal South American summer heat from her brown eyes as she entered the cool, refreshing lobby of Paula's apartment house. 

###

Paula looked down at Robert, lying on his back, naked, and bound with strong packaging tape by the wrists and ankles to the legs of her overturned coffee table. 

"Be nice!" she cooed. "Mistress Jessica and Mistress Silvina will be here any minute."

"Please, Paula," her boyfriend begged. "You know I don't like it when you let your friends play that game where you all spit in my mouth. That's so disgusting! And that one friend of yours makes me suck her feet! Yuck! And what you do to me after is..."

_"HUSH!"_ Paula scolded him, and then slapped his face. "You know I expect this of you! And you know they are to believe that you _LOVE_ our little game, even the part that the winner gets to do to you later! If either Jessica or Silvina even _SUSPECT_ that you're not thrilled at the privilege to participate in our fun, you know what's going to happen, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he sighed. 

"Good!" At that, Paula squatted down and sat on his chest and hooked a dog leash to his collar so that he couldn't sit up. At 115 pounds, she wasn't a light woman, and he had to strain to inhale against her weight on his chest. 

Next, while still sitting on his chest, she slid a medical brace under the back of his neck and buckled it tightly around his neck so that he couldn't turn his head from side to side. 

She then placed a jaw-spreader in his mouth, the kind that dentists use to force patients' mouths open during oral surgery, and ratcheted it open to hold his mouth open wide. 

She slapped his face once again just for the fun of it, then she inserted her toes into his mouth and said, "Suck my toes while we wait for my friends to arrive." 

###

The lift brought Silvina up to the level of Paula's flat. "Come in!" Paula called out when Silvina pressed the buzzer.

"Welcome, Silvina!" Paula came over and hugged her friend. Silvina looked around to see that Paula's place was as elegant as ever, and her boyfriend was tied down in place in the corner, ready for the fun.

"Jessica just called on her cell," Paula said. "She's on her way up right now. How about a cup of coffee?"

A minute later, as Paula was bringing out a pot of fresh brewed coffee, imported from neighboring Columbia, the buzzer sounded again. Silvina sipped the refreshing cup as Paula welcomed Jessica inside. 

The three friends made small talk for a while and drank their coffee. 

Finishing their coffee, Paula said, "Now that our whistles are whetted, shall we let the game begin?"

"Of course!" Jessica answered.

"That's why I braved the horrid heat to get here!" Silvina added. Her nipples were hard and her sex was wet thinking about the contest, and maybe even winning!

The three women stood and walked over to the helpless naked guy. Robert's head was securely immobile, his wide-open mouth so inviting. 

"Since you won last time, Jessica, "Paula said, "you may go first."

"Same rules?" Jessica asked.

"Sure!" Paula answered. "The first to spit into his mouth three times in a row wins the toilet mouth."

Jessica leaned over Robert's face and brushed her blonde hair away from her piercing black eyes. At 172 cm., she was at a slight disadvantage from the other two women, given the slightly greater distance she was from his mouth. She hocked up, and let a big drip of saliva ooze out of her mouth. It clung to her lips for a moment before dropping directly into his mouth. 

"Yeah!" she cheered.

"You're next Silvina," Paula said.

Silvina leaned over him and hocked up pool of saliva in her mouth, she let it drip out. It dropped down and splashed into his left eye. His body quivered a moment as Silvina's spit pooled into a tiny puddle in his eye, and then dribbled down the side of his face. 

"Darn!" Silvina sighed. "But I bet he's so turned on now!" 

"I'm sure he is!" Paula answered as she straddled his body and took aim. Her spit splashed onto his upper lip, but didn't go into his mouth. 

Jessica went again. And again, a big drop of her spit splashed directly into his mouth.

"I wonder if he really likes this," Jessica said.

"Of course he does!" Paula said. "He _BEGS_ me constantly to invite you two over for our game! Don't you, Robert?" she asked him.

"Ahhhh," he said as if to answer "Yes."

Silvina took her turn, aimed, and dropped a big glob of saliva into his mouth.

"Ohhh!" the women cooed.

Paula went next, and also hit the target with her spit.

Jessica took her third turn--and missed--spitting onto his cheek.

Silvina missed, getting him in the eye again.

Paula got her second bulls-eye in a row. Robert was struggling against the jaw spreader to swallow all the women's spit that had accumulated in his mouth so far. 

Jessica hit the target, but since she missed last time, this was, again, her first attempt at three in a row.

Silvina dropped a big glob of spit into his mouth that seemed to cling to her lips for a while before gravity asserted itself. "The pressure's on, Paula!" Silvina said.

Paula missed her chance at three in a row just then. "Darn!" she said.

"Yeah, but he's your boyfriend, so you get to play with him all the time!" Jessica said.

Jessica scored again, her second second-in-a-row.

Silvina also landed her second second-in-a-row.

Then Paula dropped a big glob of spit into his mouth, starting her next first of three. 

Jessica took a deep breath and hocked up a wad of spit. She took careful aim, trying to position her mouth directly over his as she stood over him, and--missed--splashing his chin. "Crap!"

Robert's body quivered and quaked in obvious orgasmic delight as the competition between the three women heated up. 

Now the pressure was on. Silvina stood straddling Robert's head and took aim. A long drop of saliva oozed out of her mouth and clung to her lip as it elongated and let go. It landed in his mouth as Silvina let out a cheerful, "Yes!"

"He's mine!" Silvina said to Paula. 

"Yes," Paula answered. "He's yours for the rest of the day."

"So what should I do with him now?" Silvina cooed.

"It's up to you!" Paula said.

"Elija su torcedura!" Jessica added.

Paula turned to Jessica and said, "Let's go out and let Silvina have her fun."

"Okay, sure," Jessica answered. The women hugged, and then Silvina was alone with Paula's boyfriend. 

Silvina didn't have to relieve herself yet, so she went back over to the sofa and poured herself another cup of still warm coffee. Grabbing the TV remote, she clicked through the channels. 

Noticas were on several channels: Alberto Fernandez was making headlines again going on about a confrontation between the judges and prosecutors; the Americans were meddling in the domestic affairs of yet another country, brewing resentment and creating another source of future terrorists against the west; and Lionel Messi had been selected for some Soccer award or such.

Thinking of football, reminded Silvina of her feet, and how much she loved it when a boy sucked on hers.

Having planned what she wanted to do if she won, she wore a skirt with shoes and socks instead of stockings, so she kicked off her shoes, pulled her socks off, and walked back over to the helpless guy. 

She knelt and removed the jaw spreader from his mouth. "Thank you, Mistress Silvina!" he said.

"You're welcome, Robert," Silvina answered. "And how are you going to thank me?" she asked.

"May I suck your toes, Mistress Silvina?"

"Of course you may!" she answered. Silvina had been anticipating doing "deep foot" if she won tonight. "You like to suck my toes, don't you?" she asked with a grin.

"Oh, yes, Mistress Silvina! Please let me lick your feet clean!"

She hoped this wouldn't injure him what she was about to do. Silvina knew that she was lighter than Paula by a few pounds, so she knew that she could safely do anything to him that Paula surely must do. She stepped up onto his chest and slid her right foot into his mouth. She pushed her foot deeper and deeper into his mouth, feeling her toes slide past the back of his mouth and down his throat. She picked up her other foot off his chest so that she was standing only on her one foot that was now inserted deeply into his mouth and down his throat. Her entire 105 pounds was being transmitted through her foot inserted deep into his gaping mouth. 

She stood for a good minute, enjoying the sensation, then stepped down and removed her foot. He began gasping and coughing immediately. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," Silvina said. "Did that hurt?" 

"Oh no, Mistress! I enjoyed the sensation of your foot deep down my throat. It almost made me come!"

"I'm glad!" Silvina said. "Because now I'm going to do the other foot."

She inserted her other foot in his mouth and, again, stood with only her foot in his mouth supporting her weight.

After a minute of standing, and feeling her sex getting ever wetter, those several cups of coffee were demanding escape. 

She stood off him and said, "After drinking all that coffee, I need to do something else I know you'll like."

"Yes, Mistress Silvina. I'm thirsty. Please give me a drink."

Silvina smiled down at him and said, "It would be my pleasure to give you a drink. But should I stand over you and aim into your mouth like I did last time, or should I sit on your face like Jessica does?"

"If you sit on my face, Mistress, I'll get to drink every drop, and you won't splash any on Mistress Paula's carpet."

Silvina laughed and said, "Yes, I like the way you think!"

She stepped and straddled his chest facing his feet and sat. She settled her bottom onto his face and squirmed a little, adjusting her clit directly over his mouth. It felt strange to have his nose inserted slightly into her anus--she squeezed it a couple of times with her sphincter.

So that none of her water would leak out, she stretched her legs out in front of her, against his sides, so that her full 105 pounds was supported entirely by his face. 

She had done this enough times with him that her bladder relaxed easily, and promptly let her urine flow into his mouth.

It took about 20 to 30 seconds to empty her bladder--not so long, but still a fairly long time to make someone hold their breath. 

She squirted one last squirt of piss into his mouth and waited, letting him enjoy the sensation of her bottom on his face for another 30 seconds or so. Then she stood, letting him release a gasp of breath. 

Silvina knew that Paula and Jessica would let her have the whole evening with Robert--that was part of her prize. The other two women would be having fun out in the city, and she would be having her own fun in Paula's flat. So she returned to the sofa and slid a DVD into the player. The coffee urn had grown cold, so he took it into the kitchen and started a fresh brew. While in the kitchen, she made herself some spaghetti and meat sauce for dinner, then returned to the sofa and settled down to watch the flick.

What with all the coffee that Silvina had been drinking, Robert got a few more drinks during the movie--a flick about a widowed guy who calls a radio station and the station hooks him up with a widowed woman and they fall in love and live happily ever after. Good tearjerker, but nobody ever sucks anyone else's feet or drinks anyone else's pee in one of these flicks. 

By the end of the movie, Silvina was pleased that she felt the need to have a bowel movement. She knew that Robert would have been very disappointed if he didn't get any solid nourishment during their playtime. 

She walked over to him, farted, and asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, Mistress Silvina."

"How hungry?"

"Very hungry, Mistress."

"Your dinner is inside my ass right now. Do you want it?"

"Yes, please, Mistress!"

She turned and sat on his face, but not quite like she had done the few times she had peed. Instead, she faced away from his body so that her sphincter was directly over his mouth. This time, his nose was slightly up her vagina. That felt good! 

Again, she stretched her legs out in front of her so that her full weight was bearing down entirely by her ass on his face. 

She felt the need to defecate in her bowels. She pushed and felt a large turd slide through her sphincter. The sensation was almost orgasmic. A split second later, she pushed out another. 

She knew that his mouth would be jam-packed after crapping out two big turds, but a third was pushing against her bowels; so she pushed it out too, knowing that it would likely cause him some amount of distress. She sat for about 30 more seconds to give him a change to swallow before shitting out another lump of shit. She didn't want to make him hold his breath for much longer than about two minutes, so she shat one more lump out, then she stood.

He immediately started gasping and choking. His mouth was packed solid with her shit as he struggled to chew and swallow it. 

"Phew!" it stank the room up too. 

He looked visibly ill as he swallowed the last of her shit. 

"Are you all right?" she asked with some concern.

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you for the meal direct from inside your beautiful body. I'm fine. _Urp!"_

"You don't look fine!"

"Honest! I'm okay, Mistress." 

"Well, if you say so," Silvina shrugged. She knew that he enjoyed toilet service, so she accepted him at his word.

"I just want you to lick my ass clean now, okay?"

"Of course, Mistress. Please have a seat again!"

Silvina sat once again. She was on the brink of orgasm as he rimmed her asshole while she sat on his face. 

Then Silvina got a naughty thought. She knew that he was Paula's boyfriend, and they had all agreed that fucking him was off limits. But she was _SO_ horny just then. 

She laid down on top of him with her crotch in his face, and facing his member. 

"What are you doing, Mistress Silvina?" he asked.

"I'm going to suck your dick! Do you object?"

"I...ah...well..." he stammered. 

"You think you'll be cheating on Paula if I do?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Then it'll be our secret, okay? After eating my shit, you deserve a treat! Don't you agree?"

"Yes, Mistress," he answered. 

At that, Silvina lowered her face and sucked his member into her mouth. She brought him to the brink of orgasm, then asked, "Do you want to orgasm into my mouth or my vagina?"

"You're vagina, Mistress!"

She sat up and scooted around and sat on his hard, erect member. The feeling of a hard cock throbbing inside her felt so good! She started sliding herself up and down, milking his member with her PC muscle. He exploded into her immediately. She too, exploded in orgasm as they quaked in synchronicity. 

_Forgive me, Paula!_ Silvina thought to herself as she sat on Robert's softening cock still inside her vagina.

After a couple of minutes passed, she went into the bathroom and washed herself off. Then she brought the wet towel out and washed his member off, just so there would be no telltale signs for Paula to sense or smell. 

She threw the towel in the laundry hamper and returned to him and said, "But now, you need to be punished for cheating on your girlfriend!"

"Oh?" he said.

Silvina knelt straddling his chest and slapped his face--hard. 

"Ow!" he screamed.

Then she slapped him again with her other hand.

"Ow! Please Mistress! Please stop!"

"But you were a bad boy!"

She slapped him again. Then again. Then again.

Silvina heard the lock click as she was slapping him for maybe the tenth or fifteenth time. She whispered, "Remember to keep our secret!" 

Paula and Jessica entered and Paula laughed upon seeing Silvina sitting on his chest slapping him like mad. "Having fun?" Paula laughed. 

"Oh yes!" Silvina said. "Wonderful fun!" Silvina stood and said, "I got my toes sucked AND fed him a huge dump." 

Jessica yawned and said, "I'm glad you had your fun. We had fun too. A couple of guys got into a fight over Paula at some club, so we sneaked out before they realized we left. But I'm beat." 

Jessica picked up her purse, and said, "G'night. Till next time!"

"Night Jess!" Paula said.

"Safe trip home!" Silvina said.

"You too!" Jessica said to Silvina as she exited.

Silvina yawned and said, "I guess I should be getting on home too."

"Sure," Paula said. "I need to give him his reward for tonight. Glad you could come!"

"Me too!" Silvina said. "G'night!" 

Down on the street it was still hot, and Buenos Aires could be dangerous at night for a single woman walking alone, so she waved a cab and headed home for a good night's sleep and pleasant dreams of slapping, peeing, and foot sucking. 

* END *



Spitting For Jackson



I saw her on Greenland Ave. Not too many cars were passing by. I was about 50 yards away. She heard me pull up behind her. didn't stop, but slowed to a pace that allowed me to keep level and move along slowly. Her legs were nude, encased in standard fuck-me silver sandals with Eiffel heels. She had on a denim skirt just below the crotch and a silver tank top.

I was doing the regular loop crawl. I was a bit tired of my regular concubine. I had picked her up at a Save-mart on the South side two months ago. She was loitering on the side of the cash register and asked me if I had a cigarette. I instantly understood her need and told her I'd buy her a carton if she'd come back with me. She followed me like a sick puppy. 

I fucked her like crazy that night - she was not very passive, surprisingly enough. She was in her 30s and had pale breasts, scars on her legs and no needle marks. She had a way of shivering and then squealing when I would rub her nipples that made me hard thrice that night.

I had told her that she could stay with me if she would not fuck around or steal anything. I would give her food and drink. In return, I would buy her clothes and small knickknacks, and give her a place to stay. I would fuck her when I wanted, of course, but she didn't seem to care much about that part of the deal.

Sometimes I think I'm getting used to her and things are getting boring. Then all of a sudden she does something and I must compulsively have sex with her. The other day she wore these large silver earings. So I just had to get head from her while she wore them. Then one day she was walking around with just a towel on. I laid her on the bed and nailed her. Another day she was doing dishes. So I ended up doing anal on her against the kitchen counter. One morning she was wearing high heels and a skirt. I just walked up to her and bent her over the table, hike the dress over her head, unloaded inside her and sent her on her way. Sometimes these vitamain Vs will last up to almost a day. And when you are excited the blood starts to flow. I wonder what she is thinking? Sometimes I'm by myself and I start thinking about sex. It builds up all day until she comes home. I have her on her knees in front of me sucking me off before dinner. I thought I would get tired of her and send her away. But she is addictive and I haven't gotten enough of her yet.

well, here I was on the loop. I'd seen a few 4s, maybe a couple of 6s, but nothing that made me slam on my brakes or make a quick u-turn, furtively looking around for LE activity. Every city has a loop, some have more than one. They are normally in redistricted zones or areas where you would drive through to your everyday lives, but a little faster. The loop in our city runs from Greenland to Independence, with a slight detour around Park Rd, where the old chemical factory sprawls. 

I had seen a good possibility close to the Neon Bar. I had slammed on the brakes, trying to get around the block ASAP, but got cut off at the pass by a blue Camaro. I decided not to chance a block spin with this one, who I'd rate at a 8, possibly a 9 on later reflection. I pulled up by her, not idling, just moving along at a pace that made it possible to stop in a second, and still let me pull away if this was an LE sting. Didn't feel that way, but a hobbyist can never be too sure.

She leaned down and smiled at me. "Hey good-looking, you want something?"

I didn't answer, but came to a halt and popped the door. She slid in with barely a breath wasted, closing the door as she did. I swung away from the kerb and looked in my mirror, not seeing any suspicious cars. Only then did I turn to her

"What you got to give? How about giving me a glance at those titties there?" I leered, stroking her thigh.

She flipped her top up in a practised motion, affording me a glance at her titties. They were large, but not sagging, with dark brown nipples. She dropped her cigarette in the ashtray and asked me, "So what will it be? And what've you got for me?"

I offered a portrait of ex-prez Jackson. She insisted that Lincoln and Jackson would make better running mates. I told her that nobody remembered Jackson's VP anyway. She informed me she never leaves any evidence anywhere... and she was true to her word. She got the running mates, and freshened up her spit while she took them.

We pulled into a parking lot by the factory. There were no cars around - the hobbyists were either elsewhere, or done for the night. Either way, we had the field to ourselves, and I intended to get my money's worth. 

I have never had a better DT BBBJ, and the fuck that followed for a chance at a re-election bid for Jackson blew me away in more ways than one. I got a 1st rate hummer from her and remembered grabbing her ass during the hum-along, and thinking, damn, I'd sure like to tap that. 

She went down on me after I pulled my slacks down and she took her top off. I was wearing boxers that slid down easily. Her mouth engulfed my dick, stretching the skin as she did so. She had a filling on her front teeth, but nothing that I could feel too much. Her motion was steady, taking a break rarely, and quite some saliva flowed to make it feel like I was in some kind of smoothie machine. She pulled my hands to her tits, and damn, did she have a firm rack. I played around with her nipples for sometime, and then went back to the reacharound and started to grab on her ass. Just as I was starting to think about negotiating a full service job, she went into jackhammer overdrive, and made me forget sweet mother-of-Jesus, moaning like a cat. Damn, I shot my load and pulled her mouth right over my balls. She took it all in, not flinching a bit. I played with her tits for a while, and she mentioned she'd give me another shot if I could take it, for a Jackson. In fact, she was so turned on that she would make it a FS job for the same amount.

Bam, that took it up a few notches! A brief breather, while she smoked another cigarette or two and stared into the distance. It was a good summer night, and I was all jazzed up, jacked in, jiving on. I indicated my readiness by running my hand up her skirt and feeling her crotch that was plenty wet. She pulled off her leopardskin panties and threw them in my face. I quickly reclined her seat and got on top, banging away at that sweet snatch. She gripped my back with her legs, bucking and moaning like something wild and restless. Then I pulled out, threw her over the shaft, and did her doggie style. She shuddered,and came - not the first I've seen since I started as a hobbyist 7 years ago. The women don't like to talk about it, but they aren't in it just for the money. Some of them love be fripped and frapped, while others take only a little prodding to switch into a mode they would rather not expose to a stranger. They all come up with ways to mask it, and after a while, the simulated merges with the real, until even they don't know which is which. 

I pulled out after a second orgasm, and let her clean up while I caught my breath. She pulled up her panties, snapped her top back into place and looked at her face in the mirror, touching up her lipstick. I pulled up my boxers and slacks, and handed her the extra cash, throwing in another Lincoln so the running mates did not have to break their company. 

I drove a few blocks before dropping her at the corner of Lydia and 9th. Then it was back to the house and my darling concubine. I didn't think I'd have the energy to show her some loving tonight, but who knew. Maybe she'd be happy with a Jackson in the morning to buy some goodies.



Spitting Image



Carly felt her breasts bouncing rhythmically with each impact, her body covered in sweat, face red, her breath heavy. Her father called her name, but it seemed so distant. Her thighs burned. The chemicals flowing through her blood and brain were exhilarating, increasing as she rapidly approached the finish, exploding in bliss and release. She threw her head back and shouted as the joy overtook her, unable to control herself. Immediately a great sense of calm and relief flooded her, allowing her to drop her head forward with a smile. Trying to catch her breath, she peered over her shoulder at her father, his face expressive as he burst into his own joyful release. His smile betrayed a joy he could not contain and he wiped his hand across his forehead to wipe the sweat away before he reached for her face as she turned into his embrace.

Her raven hair was matted to her darkly tanned forehead, but her father brushed it back with his fingertips before kissing the top of her head and giving her a bottle of Gatorade.

"Hell of a race, champ!" he beamed. He couldn't believe his little girl was now the state cross-country champion.

"Thanks, daddy," she said with a smile. She heard screaming behind her and turned to see two of her team mates running toward her, and a few of the boys from the guys' team walking behind them. The girls all hugged and chattered as Mark Ricks looked on with pride.

He felt a hand on his shoulder as a deep voice behind him said, "What do you think, dad?"

He turned to see coach Stephens by his side and shook his hand with the proud smile of a grateful father. "What can I say? She's amazing."

"I'm gonna miss her next year, that's for sure," Stephens said. "She's the first girl I've ever coached to be a state champion."

"Well, she owes you a lot, coach. We both do."

Coach Stephens shook his head. "No, sir. She's the champion, not me. All that talent and speed was there before she got to me; I just helped her cut away some of the waste. She's given me at least as much as I've given her, I assure you."

Mark nodded with appreciation as Carly trotted over and hugged her coach around the waist. "We did it, coach!"

He returned the hug with one arm around her shoulder. "YOU did it, Carly. I was just telling your dad here that you've got that raw talent few have."

"Well, you're the one who helped me unleash it, then," she beamed. "How can I thank you?"

"Just think of me when you're on that center podium at the Olympics and we'll call it even. Fair enough?" he smiled.

"Deal," she laughed.

"Carly!" All three turned to see a young man in khaki pants and a Duke University polo shirt. Carly looked at her father, who raised his eyebrows at her and winked. He pushed on her back a little with a smile, prompting her to meet him halfway. Carly's father and coach watched as Carly was courted by representatives from several schools. They saw shirts and hats from Clemson, Ohio State, Louisiana State, Georgia, Michigan, James Madison, Texas A&M, and a few they didn't recognize; probably smaller schools, they figured.

The three of them were almost the last three at the stadium as it got dark and began to cool. Carly riffled through the cards in her hand and handed them to her father to discuss later as she put on her tracksuit. As she untucked her ponytail from her collar, Mark asked her about dinner. "Anywhere you want, champ," he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She wrapped her arm around his waist as they walked, her bag slung over her shoulder.

"Can we go to Daye's? I want the steak and shrimp."

"Daye's it is," he smiled back, pulling her tighter and kissing the top of her head. 

The drive home was lively with her looking through the cards again and asking her dad's opinion on the schools. He laughed as they talked, enjoying her enthusiasm, and reminded her that they still had some time, and that she needed to remember to go to a school with a career path she wanted because she probably wouldn't be able to be a champion runner forever. She nodded with a smile while throwing out some names of Olympians, marathon champions and pro triathletes before shrugging that she knew the odds were stacked against her, but she would enjoy the ride for as long as she could. Her father patted her knee and winked at her before returning his hand to the wheel, turning into the driveway.

"I'll call Daye's to get on the list while you clean up, and then I'll take a shower and change," he called out as she made her way to the front door while he grabbed her bag out of the back of his truck.

"Okay," she called back, catching the keys he had tossed her, and unlocking the door. As soon as Mark walked in, he picked up his keys off the table in the foyer, set Carly's bag by the steps and walked over to the answering machine to check the messages, with "6" blinking on the base. Two of the messages were credit card offers and the other four were from university athletic directors, having heard from their scouts who had called from the race. They all pretty much said the same thing: that they heard about the race and were really excited about the potential of having Carly on their team next year. They each left their names and numbers.

Mark was suddenly tired as reality hit him like a ton of bricks. He was about to be alone for the first time in his life. He lived with his parents until college, where he met Amy, Carly's mother, and they had married their senior year. Right after Mark finished his Master's degree they had moved for his new job, and soon after, she was pregnant with Carly. Amy had died unexpectedly from an aneurism in her lung when Carly was only eight. As he grieved his wife's loss, he also began to focus almost entirely on Carly.

Mark had always been a runner, and that was how he and Amy met, at a charity 5k at their college. They met in the stew tent after the race and hit it off. They had done several races together, from 5k's to a couple of triathlons, but what they really loved were the mud runs and low-pressure short races. Neither of them had been particularly fast, never gaining any more recognition than getting their finisher medals and shirts. He found himself looking at a picture on the mantle of he and Amy holding their finisher medals after a 10k with little Carly sitting in the jogging stroller, her smile bigger than either Mark's or Amy's.

He heard Carly moving around upstairs, closing the door to her bedroom, having already taken her shower. He snapped out of his pity party. "Pull yourself together," he muttered, pushing himself up off the couch. He called Daye's and had his name put on their list for about an hour from now and knocked on Carly's door to let her know.

She opened the door and was wearing just her bra and panties. Mark had noticed her growing up, but for some reason this time, something stirred. Maybe it was his flood of emotions, maybe his thoughts of his late wife, maybe all of it combined with his excitement at his daughter's performance this afternoon. Either way, here she was, not even hiding behind her door, her black hair wet and straight as she stood with a makeup brush in one hand and the door knob in the other. 

Her skin was dark like her mother's, her eyes a deep brown, almost black, and she had faint tan lines from her tank tops after spending endless hours running and exercising in the sun. Her lips were dark red from her lipstick and he couldn't help but notice her tone body, with the trim abdomen, set off by a center line down her stomach and two lines on the sides from her ribs to the front of her hips.

"Daddy?" she muttered.

"Daddy!" she exclaimed, snapping him out of his visual.

"Oh. What?"

"I said, did you need something?" she smirked and cocked her head a little bit sideways.

"Oh...uh...yeah. Daye's has our name and we need to be there by 7."

Carly turned her head away to look at her clock and noticed it was 6:20. While she was looking, her father quickly glanced down to take in her form again, her moderate breasts and shapely legs, her ass popping out, firm and round. He quickly looked back up as she turned. "Okay, then, so I'll be ready in about 15 minutes," she smiled.

"Great. I'll go get ready."



Carly closed the door and leaned back against it, her stomach filled with butterflies. Did he feel about her the way she had felt about him for several years? When she was 13 she accompanied him on a business trip over her spring break, inviting Breanna to go with her. Her blonde friend, who had since moved away, made comments about how cute Carly's father was. It was then that she noticed for the first time how handsome and fit he was. Granted, she was young, but she had been noticing cute boys for a couple of years, even if never having had a real "crush" on one, and certainly having never been kissed.

That week, however, as Bre and Carly sat by the pool at the hotel while her father was in a conference, they spent a lot of time checking out boys and making suggestive comments back and forth, obviously neither of them really knowing what they were talking about. Carly remembered taking a sip of her virgin colada (which made her feel grown-up) when Bre blurted, "Your dad is hotter than any of these guys" before popping another potato chip into her mouth. Carly coughed out a little colada, causing Breanna to burst into fits of laughter. As Carly wiped the freezing drink off her chest and stomach, Bre asked, "Oh, come on, you've never noticed how hot he is?"

"That's my dad, Bre," she said, not even looking up. And no, she hadn't noticed.

"Carly, you need to wake up, girl."

Carly just shot her a look as Bre smiled, shaking her head before biting into her chicken salad sandwich.

That evening over dinner her father told them that his part of the conference the next morning was only going to be a couple of hours, so he would be back at the room by 10 so he could take them down to the beach for jet skiing, paddle boarding, and parasailing. The girls squealed and hugged him tightly around his neck, and he hugged them both tightly, laughing at their responses. He told Breanna that he would call her father after dinner to make sure it was all right so he could sign the waivers.

After the conference the next morning, they all went down to the beach and started with the jet skis and then the parasailing since they both had limited time on the rentals, unlike the paddle boards. Carly caught herself noticing her father's form for the first time. His light brown hair was short and stylish and he was fit and tan from years of consistent exercise and fairly conscious nutrition. The hair on his chest made him look masculine and rugged, but it was not excessively hairy, and it narrowed into a thin strip that ran down his stomach and into his board shorts.

As he paddled, fell off and laughed trying to climb back on and regain his stance several times over the day, she watched his muscles twitch and writhe beneath his skin. This was the first time she had ever noticed her father from a standpoint of being attractive. She hated to admit it, but Bre was right. He was hot.

Over the next several years she had noticed him aging, his hair turning a little gray at the temples and spreading out over and behind his ears, the rest of his scalp sprouting more and more white hairs, but his form didn't seem to age with him. He was gaining crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, but otherwise was not showing his age like he could be. He was still in great shape, even if not as toned and defined as his pictures showed him when he was younger.

Carly hated to admit it, but she was becoming smitten with her father. Her hope was that it would pass in time. Unfortunately for her, it hadn't.

Now here she was at eighteen and about to go to college... somewhere, and she was going to be leaving him for months at a time. As she stepped away from her bedroom door and began applying her makeup again before blow drying her hair and sliding on a short black skirt and bright green top, she thought of all the ways her father had cared for her, ignoring his own needs to make sure she had all she could ever want or need. He worked hard, she knew that, but he took all his vacation and would go in early on her meet days so that he could leave early to be at every meet and watch her race. They ran together countless times, running races together and as she became faster than he was, he encouraged her to run ahead and not to wait for him. Every vacation he took, it was for him and her and she would often be encouraged to invite a friend so she wouldn't get bored with her old dad.

The knock at the door shook her out of her thinking and she realized that her eyes were red and swollen with tears. She sniffled once. "Just a minute," she called, grabbing a tissue and blotting at her eyes as she opened the door.

"It's six for... honey, are you okay?" he asked, concern dripping from his voice.

"Huh? Oh, this," she laughed, pointing at her eye. "I stabbed myself with my mascara brush. It happens sometimes." She smiled and blotted at her eyes, checking herself in the mirror and sniffling once more before turning to her father and placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Let's go," she smiled.

He smiled and patted her hand as they walked down the stairs together.

As the server turned to submit their order, Mark said, "Carly, I really want you to know how proud I am of you. And not just the state championship today, but everything about you. You're kind, smart, a gifted athlete, and a wonderful daughter. You've never given me a hint of trouble and I don't think I've ever thanked you for that. I love you very much, baby girl."

She teared up and wiped her eyes with the green cloth napkin as she said, "I love you, too, Daddy."

He smiled and placed his hand on hers as he took a sip of his tea, and she squeezed his hand.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"What do you think Momma would want me to do?"

Mark was caught off-guard. "With school, you mean?"

She nodded. "Do you think she would want me to stay home and go somewhere close or to choose a scholarship at one with a good running program?"

Mark leaned in close, noticing that his daughter was looking down at the table, obviously bearing a burden that was his to carry. "Carly, look at me." She looked up, her brow furrowed and her eyes sad. "Your mother and I both have always wanted you to do what is best for you. You have an amazing opportunity to go to whatever school you want and to be trained by the best schools in the nation, maybe even the world. I hate the thought of you moving away because I love you deeply. You're everything to me and I can't imagine my life without you in it every day." He started to choke up, but then cleared his throat and sternly said, "But I hate even more the thought of you throwing away an incredible future just to stay home with me. And your mother would feel the same way. If you choose to stay close by, that would mean I could see you every day, which would make me very happy," he smiled. "But I would be even happier to know that you are chasing your own future and going to the best school to help move you along that path. You just need to know that you're going to be seeing this ugly old mug on your campus several times a year if you move away." He smiled and winked to let her know that he really was okay with her moving away if she needed to.

She smiled back at him, nodding and took his hand again. Right about then the server brought their bread on a cutting block and Mark sliced and buttered a piece for his daughter, setting her bread plate in front of her. As he repeated it for himself, Carly broached a different subject. 

"Daddy, tell me again about Momma."

"What do you want to know, sweetie?"

"I don't know. Everything? Tell me stuff I'm old enough to know now, that I wasn't when she was alive."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Tell me more about how you met, what dating her was like, how you proposed, all that stuff. I want to know her like you knew her."

Mark sat still for a moment, and then smiled at his daughter, who smiled in return.

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter as he told her story after story of her mother. She was a character, charming, flirty, fun. On more than one occasion, Carly covered her mouth as she burst out laughing, muttering, "No way!" or "Oh, my god!" 



This was the first time Carly had heard so many things about her mother. On the one hand she felt guilty for taking up so much of her dad's energy and focus that he could not take the time to tell her more about the love of his life. She could see the burden lifting off of him as he shared and by the time dinner had ended, they had been at the restaurant for nearly two hours, laughing.

The server, who seemed mildly annoyed at the slow turnover, returned to clear their dinner plates and offered half-heartedly, "Will there be anything else?"

"Yes, please," Carly chimed in before her father could decline. "A strawberry tower with two spoons." She smiled at her father and the server looked at him to verify.

"You heard the lady," Mark smiled. He was in too good a mood to let the server's attitude ruin his night with his daughter. They chatted some more while waiting for their dessert. Soon enough a deep bowl arrived, encasing a slice of shortcake with a scoop of ice cream, topped by another slice of cake, another scoop of ice cream and drizzled with strawberry glaze, fresh sliced strawberries and whipped cream on top. Nothing was said for a couple of minutes as the two enjoyed the treat.

Carly slowly pulled her spoon from her mouth upside down, dragging it through her lips as she cleared her throat.

"Daddy?"

"Mmm?" He didn't even look at her as he concentrated on reaching for some more ice cream and cake.

"After momma died, how did you handle... umm... your... um... your urges?" she whispered that last part, leaning in close.

He stopped dead and looked at her, eyes wide in surprise. He sat up suddenly and said, "Carly, that's too personal. I'm not discussing that with you."

"I'm only asking because I've never seen you date since she died, which in some ways makes sense, but in others, I would think it would be really difficult, especially for a man."

"Well, no it hasn't been easy, but I can't..."

"Is everything all right over here, sir?" The server interrupted.

"Yes, everything was wonderful, thank you. We're ready for the check now, please."

As soon as the server left, Mark picked up where he had left off. "I can't talk to you about these things, Carly."

"Dad, I'm eighteen, I've never had a boyfriend, it's been ten years since you went on a date, and I'm heading to college soon. I need some guidance here, Daddy. Please talk to me about this. I know it's not easy for you, but do you think it's easy for me to..." she looked around the restaurant before leaning in and whispering, "Do you think it's easy for me to ask my father about his sex life?"

Mark sighed in exasperation, running his fingers through his hair, looked at Carly and didn't say another word. The check came and he signed for it before standing up, leading Carly out to the car and opening the door for her to get in. Yes, he did notice her shapely legs and yes he did notice the slight jiggle of her breasts in her green top and yes he did notice the tingle in his groin that signaled excitement, that tickle that precedes an erection.

Neither said anything in the car for a few minutes. Carly was staring out the passenger side window at the restaurants and shops, her face intermittently illuminated by the overhead street lamps.

"Your mother was a very vivacious woman, Carly." She turned, surprised at her father's voice. He didn't look at her, but instead appeared to be actively avoiding it. "In every aspect of her life. It was no different in the bedroom." He sighed and looked at her. "Are you sure you want to hear this?" he asked. She nodded and he nodded in return. 




Spitting Image



Clearing his throat, he continued. "Amy was the only woman I've ever loved. She's the only woman I've ever been with, so she is the entirety of my sexual experience. She was a willing teacher and a willing student. We learned each other and we trusted each other to the point that neither of us would deny the other whatever they desired sexually. We experimented some, but always just with each other. We both knew there would never be anyone else in our bed with us. Every part of our bodies was available to give and receive pleasure, and it drew us closer the longer we were together.

"She groomed herself to my liking, and I did the same for her. She dressed for me and I for her. We wanted our relationship to be enveloped in service to each other. She made me a better man and taught me what it meant to be a husband and lover and friend. Carly, you were born out of the love we had for each other. Every time I look at you I see so much of your mother. Your hair and skin and eyes are all just like Amy's. She said you had my competitive streak, but I said you had her spirit of adventure. We both acknowledged that you were your own person, the best of both worlds we would say."

"When it came to... sex... what kind of stuff did she like?"

"Sweetie, I don't..."

"Please, Daddy." Her face was pleading. She had won him over countless times with that face.

He sighed as he pulled into the driveway. Gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands and looking down he said, "Why don't we get changed so we can relax and maybe we'll talk some more. I'm still trying to work through some of this."

"Okay, Daddy." She leaned over and kissed his cheek before getting out of the car. He watched her pull her keys from her purse and open the door. She looked back at him, still in the car, before walking inside and closing the door. As Carly walked to her room, her stomach was aflutter again. She closed her bedroom door behind her and unbuttoned her shirt as she walked to the closet, kicking her shoes into it and pulling a hanger off the bar before tossing it on the bed. Removing her shirt, she admired herself in the mirror. Her breasts were not large, but she wasn't flat chested, either. Her core was tight, her arms tone, her neck slim. The white fabric of her bra contrasted deeply with her skin.

Picking up a picture of her mother from her dresser, she looked at her in a new light. She ran her hand down the glass, touching her mother's face and hair, looking for herself in her mother's face. Looking through the picture, she caught her own reflection in the glass, overlaying her mother's image and smiled. Carly stood in front of the mirror and compared her own features to her mother's. Did she really look so similar? Could her father see her with the same eyes he saw her mother with? 

She realized her nipples were pressing against the bra and remembered what she had come in here for. Riffling through her pajama drawer, she picked up her lounge pants with cheetah print and held the flannel in her hand as she reached for the white t-shirt that had a matching pink cheetah print heart in the center. Before she closed the drawer, however, she stopped and looked in the mirror again.



"How much am I supposed to share?" Mark asked in the rearview mirror, ashamed to look himself in the eye. "What the hell am I even doing?" He took a deep breath and opened the door. As he entered the house, Carly was nowhere to be found. He climbed the stairs and saw the light peeking out from under her bedroom door and realized she was still changing. Comforted by that, he walked to his room, used the restroom and changed into his gym shorts and t-shirt, the most comfortable thing he owned. As he changed, he heard Carly leave her room and bound down the stairs. Once he was finished changing he made his way downstairs to the living room. He rounded the corner just as his daughter was rounding the corner from the kitchen.

"Oh, shit," he thought, hoping he didn't say it out loud.

"I made you a drink, Daddy. Rum and Coke, as you like it. I hope it's okay that I made me one, too. Not as strong of course because I'm a lightweight, but I thought it might help us relax."

She stood there holding the two drinks with a subtle smile on her face. She noticed the look on her father's face and it made her tingle. "I hope I'm being smart," she thought to herself.

"No, yeah, that's fine," Mark finally sputtered. He watched as his daughter sashayed toward him, a swing in her hips, the two mixed drinks hovering in front of her, ice clinking against the glasses. What the hell was she wearing? Where were the lounge pants and t-shirt she usually wore? Instead, tonight she wore a spaghetti strap indigo nightgown that came to mid-thigh. 

She padded across the living room carpet, watching as her father's eyes focused on her hips and legs. She could feel her nipples being caressed by the satin of her gown and wondered if her father noticed. Did she even want him to?

She handed her father his drink and sat on the couch, her feet tucked under her as she leaned against the back of the sofa. She took a sip of her drink as she looked over the rim of her glass into her father's eyes. He mirrored her, sipping his own elixir before he broke his gaze away.

"Thank you for the drink, sweetie," he said with a smile. Clearing his throat, he looked at his lap and began, "I'm not sure how to do this, Carly. I want you to know what you need to know, but I also realize how sensitive this topic is and want to handle it correctly. Do you understand?" He looked into her eyes.

She smiled a little and nodded. "I understand, Daddy." She took another sip of her drink as her father smiled and began.

"Sex is very personal and should not be taken lightly. It's unlike anything else, and it should be treated that way. When you have sex with someone, it can either strengthen your bond with that person or it can drive a wedge in an already stressful relationship. It shouldn't be used as just a test to see if the relationship will work or if you're compatible. It can blind you to problems, but it can also magnify them. So when you find someone that you love and want to begin a sexual relationship with them, take your time, okay?"

"Okay."

"Now," he breathed, "What are you looking for here?"

"Well," she blushed, "I don't have any kind of experience. I've never even kissed a boy. I know basic biology, of course, but I want to know what sex is like and since I love you and trust you and I know how much you loved Momma, I want to hear from you what I should consider."

"I'll do what I can, but I'll need some leeway in what I feel comfortable with, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy." She took a sip of her drink, prompting Mark to do the same.

"So what do you want to know?"

"Um, tell me about your first time."

"Wow, jumping right into it, huh?" he smiled. Carly just shrugged with a smile and took another sip. "Like I said, your mother was my first lover and I was head over heels in love. We actually flowed into it naturally. It wasn't something that we had planned that on that night we would make love, but it was something that we eased into that night. We had touched each other before, but..."

"Hang on. Back up. What do you mean you had touched each other before that? Tell me about that, too."

"Oh... uh... we had been going out for a few months and had made out plenty of times, but this one night I decided to risk touching her... breast... over her clothes and she moaned and I felt her kind of lean into it, which let me know she was into it. It was the first breast I had touched, you know, so I just kind of experimented with rubbing on it and squeezing it. We were both really enjoying it and she pulled back a little and whispered in my ear to touch her... you know... down there, and..."

"What did she say?" Carly looked a little flush, he noticed. She took a sip of her drink, but was also gently rubbing her bare thigh. He noticed that her nipples poked against her gown and he had to force himself to look away, taking another sip of his own drink.

Carly couldn't believe how turned on she was getting at just hearing about her parents making out. She could almost feel a hand on her breast although the only one she had ever had there was her own. She wondered if her mother could come with just nipple play like she could. She had discovered it accidentally a couple of years ago as she fantasized and began touching herself. Feeling the jolts of electricity burst through her as she rolled and pinched and pulled on her nipples, surprised her, but she was thankful for the discovery.

"She placed my hand between her legs and told me to... uh... touch her..." he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, "her pussy." His own arousal increased as he remembered the feel of her lips on his ear, the whisper of the first time she had said that word to him, and the feel of the heat on his hand. Only this time it was accentuated with a sharp gasp from his daughter, responding to the word as it escaped his lips. "I'm sorry, Carly. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, I'm glad you said it. Please don't be clinical when you're telling me your love story. I asked and even I'm surprised at the language, but I want to hear your story. I've heard these words before, Daddy. I've just never heard them from you. It's okay."

He nodded and continued. "We played like that for a little while, your mother grinding her hips on my hand and covering my hand on her breast with her own as she told me what she liked and showed me."

"So she told you what to do, then?"

"That's right."

"What did she say? And remember, use her words."

"She said, 'Squeeze my... my tit and pinch my nipple.' When I did that she... had an orgasm."

"Came?"

"Yes. She came."

"We must be alike, just like you said, Daddy. I'm sensitive there, too. Keep going."

Mark didn't know what to do with that rather candid remark, so he tried to refocus before his mind went where it didn't need to go. "Then she pulled her shirt off over her head and pulled her bra cup down. It was the first time I had ever seen her breast and I instantly fell in love with it."

"What did they look like?" Carly asked.

"They were... not big, but they weren't small. I guess that's subjective, though. I think she said at some point that they were B's."

"That's what I am, too. Were her nipples dark?"

Again he had to rein in his imagination. "Yes, like a deep purplish brown, you know?"

"I know exactly," she nodded with a smile, taking another sip. "When she pulled her bra down, did she ask you to use your mouth?"

"Not exactly," he laughed a little. "Instead she grabbed my head and shoved me into her tit."

"Go, Momma!" cheered Carly with a laugh, lightening the mood a little. Her nipples were still erect and her panties had moistened through the description her dad gave her. "Did you get into each other's pants that night, too?"

He nodded, still smiling. "She placed my hand, the one that had been between her legs, on the snap of her jeans, and I took the hint. While I was doing that, she placed her hand on my..." He paused, not sure what to say.

After a brief pause, she picked it up. "Dick? Prick? Cock? Tin Soldier?" her voice was jovial as she offered her dad "acceptable" terms to choose from.

"Tin Soldier?" he asked, laughing.

"What did she call it?" she snickered.

"She liked to call it a cock because she thought it sounded dirtier," he admitted.

"So she had her hand on your cock," Carly prompted.

"Over my jeans," he clarified. Then added with a smile, "At first. But when I pulled her jeans down, she didn't take off her panties, but instead tucked my hand into her waistband. I pushed my hand down and still remember the first feel of her pubic hair and was surprised at how soft the skin was. It was unlike anything else I'd ever felt before. She pressed my middle finger on her clitoris and guided me how to move over it, then gave me a chance to explore. I was amazed at how easily my fingers naturally glided down and into her." He took another sip. "The inside of a woman's body is so much more complex than I had thought it would be. She showed me how to bring her pleasure and again she used my hand to come for a second time."

"What did you notice most about her when she came, Daddy?"

He had forgotten that it was his daughter asking him these questions and began to speak more candidly. His mind was back on that night: the sights, sounds, feelings, scents. He fell in love with late wife again, something he hadn't done in several years. He took another sip and crunched on a piece of ice. "I loved the look on her face. I had never seen a woman in the throes of an orgasm before. Her eyes rolled back and her stomach tensed with spasms. Her breasts jiggled lightly and her nipples just seemed to poke right out. I felt her pussy clamp around my fingers rhythmically as she released more lubricant." He shook his head as he stared out into nothing. "I was so hard it hurt," he laughed, then turned to look at Carly, "But she took care of that in a hurry, let me tell you. She pulled my hand from her panties and looked me in the eye as she sucked my fingers clean. I couldn't say or do anything; it's like I was hypnotized.

"Almost immediately she shoved her tongue into my mouth and I could taste her on her own tongue. That was the first taste I had of her, of any woman. After the first time I gave her oral sex..."

"You mean 'ate her pussy'?" asked Carly.

He looked at her briefly before continuing. "After the first time I ate her pussy, I was so thankful that I first tasted her that way. Don't get me wrong, I loved doing that and I loved her taste, but it took me a little while. My brain had to associate her scent and taste with sexual pleasure. That first kiss muted it a little bit and I was able to get a sense of what I was facing if the day ever came. It quickly grew to be something I craved. I loved to eat her out."

"Wow," Carly muttered quietly.

"Oh, god, Carly, I'm sorry! That was too much. I'm so, so sorry!" He turned toward her on the couch, grief-stricken at what he had just said to his little girl.

"No. Daddy, that was just...wow," she laughed. "I've never seen you so expressive before. Please don't stop! What happened next?"

He relaxed a little, knowing that she was interested. He noticed that the hand on her thigh was resting at the hem of her gown, which had ridden up a little higher, but not enough to expose her panties, thankfully (or not). She was gripping her thigh rhythmically. Squeeze... release... squeeze... release. He looked back up at her face. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes glazed over, as if she were hanging on every word. Her face was still flush and her nipples were still erect. He wanted to touch her, but he wouldn't. He still wouldn't.

"Anyway," he tried to regain his footing in the story. Now he was enjoying it more. Enjoying the memory, enjoying the telling, enjoying her reaction. He wanted to tell it now. He didn't know why; he knew it wasn't proper or even remotely appropriate. "She squeezed me through my pants and as she kissed me, she moaned when she felt it. She stroked it over my jeans, moaning. I didn't think women did that; I didn't think she would get excited at the thought of me being excited."

"I would. I would get excited at the thought of a man getting hard thinking of me, looking at me, touching me... Tasting me." She ran one finger over her lips. "Keep going."

Mark tried to refocus, but it took a moment. The rum must be getting to him, although it shouldn't be; he hadn't even finished one mixed drink yet, and that on a full stomach. His daughter just seemed so... sexual... so seductive tonight. He shook his head a little. "Where was I?"

"Momma was moaning as she stroked your cock," Carly said almost in a whisper.

"Oh, yeah. Right. She said, 'Can I take it out? I want to see it. I want to touch it.' I'll never forget that. I think I said yes because I don't remember. Amy said that I just nodded dumbly when she asked me. Next thing I know my zipper is down and your mother's hand is wrapped around my shaft before she pulled it through the zipper."

"What did she think of it?" asked his little girl.

"She stroked it and called it beautiful."

"How big is it?" 

"What?"

"How big is it?" she repeated, more insistent this time.

"I don't know," he answered sharply. "And what kind of question is that anyway?"

He sounded perturbed she thought. "I just wanted a point of reference."

He sighed, "It's about" he held his fingers a few inches apart, "this big." She reached up and placed her fingers next to his, then brought them down to her belly as she leaned back a little, placing one hand at her groin and the other up by her navel, over the gown. Mark just looked on in a stupor, not believing what he was seeing, but wondering if he was reading something into nothing.

"I can't imagine having something that big in my pussy," she said, shaking her head, "But I hear good things. Maybe I would get used to it if momma did." She took her hands away, but continued to recline against the arm of the couch. Her knees were together now, so he couldn't see up her gown, but Mark noticed that her nipples were still hard. "Did she jerk you off until you came on her hand?" she asked matter-of-factly.

"Yes. It was a good thing it was late at night because I went home with dark spots on my jeans and shirt. My roommates would have given me hell and pushed for details. I did sleep good that night, though." Mark noticed that his gym shorts were tented from the thoughts of Amy coming on his hand, jerking him off, and tasting both her own and his orgasms off her fingers. 

He's not the only one who noticed. Carly had watched his erection grow and tent his shorts as her own panties continued to moisten.

The room was silent for a moment, neither of them sure if the story was really over. She had originally asked about his first time with her mother, but then demanded he tell her about the first time they touched each other. Did he dare continue on?

Carly had plenty of fuel for her fantasies and she knew more about her father than she had before. Was that enough? Her pussy said no, but her brain cautioned her against pushing too hard. What if he changed his mind tomorrow, though? This could be the last time he was willing to talk so candidly with her about this. If he came to his senses, would he ever be okay with addressing this again?

"So that was the first time we touched each other," Mark said after taking another drink and crunching on the ice. "But you asked first about our first time making love."

Carly nodded, trying to control her excitement.

"Once we had touched each other that first time, it became much more frequent. After a few more weeks, we started with oral sex, and I learned to really appreciate her taste and the texture of her pussy on my mouth. Like I said, I started to crave it. There were times I would meet her between classes just so I could pull her into a corner somewhere and get a taste of her. Maybe I would pull her pants down or flip up her skirt, or sometimes I would just run my fingers into her underwear and suck my fingers clean like a junkie."

"Oh my god, Daddy! You loved the taste that much?"

"I loved her that much AND I loved the taste that much."

"That's so hot," she said, now rubbing herself through her gown. She didn't seem to hide it and didn't seem to care if he noticed it. He did.

"Is this turning you on, sweetie?" Mark asked plainly.

"Yes, Daddy," she breathed.

"It's okay if you touch yourself. I don't mind. I'll look somewhere else."

"You don't have to, Daddy. It's okay if you watch. And Daddy?"

"Yes, angel?"

"It's okay if you touch yourself, too."




Spitting Image



"I don't know that I should."

"It's all right. I know you're thinking about Momma. But..." she paused, biting her lip.

"But what, sweetheart?"

"But if you think about me, that's okay, too."

"Oh, god," he breathed, dropping his head back against the couch.

"Finish your story, Daddy. You and Momma were just about to... fuck."

His head shot up and whipped around to look at her. There was a fire in her eyes. The veil had been removed and she wasn't hiding her lust anymore. He had seen that same fire in her mother's eyes for almost fifteen years and recognized it, plain as day. "It was finals week," he began, his eyes never leaving hers. 

"We had both finished some big tests and she had two easy finals left, but I only had one, which would be only moderately difficult. Even if I didn't show up to the exam I could still walk away with an A in the class. We were at the pizza place near campus and Amy said, 'It's such a relief to be done with those classes. We should celebrate!' I agreed and hinted at dessert. I leaned over and told her I would eat her out until she collapsed from exhaustion. She nodded and took a sip of her Coke with a smile, but then took a bite of pizza as she said, 'Or you could just fuck me bowlegged.'" He laughed at both the memory and at his daughter's wide-eyed expression.

"She really said that?" she exclaimed, eyes wide open.

"Yeah," he laughed. "And I had the exact same expression you do right now, and your mother busted up laughing at me. I played it off, laughing with her until she grabbed the next waitress that walked past and asked for a to-go box. She placed the pizza in the box as I worked on my slice and she stood up from the booth, pizza in one hand and purse over her shoulder. I said, 'Oh, you were serious?' She laughed and said 'Absolutely! I've waited long enough.' That was the fastest I'd ever started out of the gate!"

"Her apartment door was barely closed when she dropped to her knees and fished my cock out. She had me in her mouth as she unfastened my jeans and I peeled off my shirt. I'd never seen her this horny before. I tried to pull her up, but she slapped my hand away and continued to suck on me while her hands unbuttoned her shirt, released her bra, and unfastened her jeans. She was working herself over as she gave me a world-class blowjob."

Mark noticed his daughter's hand had moved into her panties, her gown gathered up above the waistband, trapped by her wrist. He could see her knuckles circling as they kept the fabric of her panties at bay, stretching it to accommodate her fingers. He risked sliding his own hand into his shorts and slowly stroked himself. He looked up at his daughter's face and noticed that her eyes were fixed on his groin. Oddly, this prompted him to keep going. He felt the slick moisture on the back of his hand as it glided over the wet spot his pre-cum had left on the inside of his boxer briefs. 

He continued to watch Carly's face as she watched his hand move beneath the fabric of his shorts. She looked up at his face and they made eye contact. As she looked into his eyes, her hand continuing to explore herself, he said, "Your mother came on her hand, her fingers probably delving into her pussy as she sucked my cock. Her orgasm was enough to bring on mine. I didn't even warn her. I just placed my hand on her head and came in her mouth. I knew she would swallow it. She always did unless I asked for something different."

"What else did you ask for?" breathed his daughter.

"Sometimes I would ask for her to let it run back out onto my cock and balls. Sometimes I would come on her tits or her face." Carly gasped, her hand moving more rapidly. "Sometimes she would spit it back into her hand and rub it on her tits or pussy or ass. She looked so sexy covered in my spunk."

Carly grunted and flinched on her hand. "Oh, Daddy," she gasped, her eyes squeezed shut as her climax bolted through her.

Mark couldn't hold it in if he wanted to. All this talk of fucking his wife, the images and replays of his time with her, the knowledge that his daughter was both masturbating and watching him do the same, and the final straw of watching her come, pushed him over the edge. Flashes of light burst behind his eyelids and he groaned as his seed burst from his head to fill his shorts and run down over his hand. He didn't know if Carly saw or not. She could have still been wrapped up in her own release. 

His question was soon answered when he opened his eyes and saw her looking at him, pulling her slick fingers from her mouth with a smile.

Post-orgasmic bliss never came for him. Instead, he was immediately smacked with guilt and shame. He stood and walked toward the stairs.

"Daddy?" she called, partially panicked. 

He stopped, but didn't turn around. "Yes, angel?"

"Aren't you going to finish your story?"

He thought for a moment before answering as he looked at the picture on the wall in front of him. It was he and Amy and six-year-old Carly in a studio shot, all smiles. His heart sank. "I think I've said enough."

"Oh. Okay." He heard her shuffle toward him before feeling her hand on his back, touching him gently. "Good night, Daddy. I love you," she practically whispered, breezing past him up the stairs without looking back.

"I love you, too, baby girl." His voice cracked.



"I'm not a little girl anymore."

Mark was startled awake. The sun was barely coming up and he was awakened early from a fitful "sleep" on a Saturday. He turned to see Carly sitting on his bed in her lounge pants and t-shirt, staring at a picture in her hands.

"What?"

"I said I'm not a little girl anymore, Daddy."

He sat up, sure to keep the covers at his waist, even though he had opted to sleep in his underwear last night after cleaning up and changing. "I know that, Carly," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. It was too early for this.

"Do you?" she demanded, her voice harsh. She dropped the picture in his lap. It was the one he was staring at last night, the picture of the family when she was six. "Are you sure you don't still see me this way?" she asked, pointing at herself in the picture.

"You don't understand, angel."

"Then please explain it," she begged. "Help me understand." Her shoulders dropped as she looked at him pleadingly.

He sighed. "Part of me knows that you're a young woman now, the same part that knows that legally you can make all your own decisions and that I can't stop you from any of it. You can go to whatever college you want and I can't prevent it, you can join the military and fight in a war, you can vote, you can drink in some states, buy pot in some states, and there's not a damned thing I can do. You can date, make porn, marry, have surgery, buy insurance, get in credit card debt, and whatever else you want and whether it's a good decision or a bad one, it all falls directly on your shoulders! I get that! And it scares the shit out of me!"

"But why, Daddy?"

"Because I'm your father, sweetie." His tone softened, as did his heart. "Part of my job as a father is to care for you and protect you. It's my job to give you opportunities, but also to temper those opportunities with guidelines and advice so you can learn to make good choices. Sometimes that means I even have to protect you from myself, from my own wishes and desires. You may not be a little girl anymore, sweetheart, but I'll always be your daddy."

"I know you would never do anything to hurt me, Daddy." Her voice was softer now, too. "I know what happened last night wasn't what you were expecting. And I kind of wasn't either. But I don't regret it."

She reached over and took the picture from the bed and replaced it with another one, this one just a snapshot without a frame. "This is the girl I want you to see now. Look at it, Daddy," she said softly.

"Baby..."

"Please, Daddy. Look at it."

He picked it up and a mix of emotions flooded him again. It was from her 18th birthday party. It was a pool party barbecue with a few of her friends. He remembered that day vividly because he had to concentrate so hard not to continually watch his daughter and her friends in their bikinis. He gave an excuse that he would leave them alone and would only come outside to check the ice and drinks in the cooler and to refill snacks if they needed it. He presented it as if he was trying to give them their privacy, but instead it was him who needed to be away from them. From her.

"I saw how you looked at me, Daddy, how you've looked at me for a long time. I see you checking me out when we swim and when I'm laying out. I know you do yard work while I tan so you can look at me from behind your sunglasses. Do you work in the yard without a shirt so I can see you, too?" she asked.

His face was flush, his heart racing. "I think you need to leave, Carly."

"Answer my question."

"Carly!"

"Answer me, dammit!" she yelled, her eyes filled with rage. "Don't leave me out here by myself!"

"YES! I see you as a beautiful young woman! I hate that I can't see that line anymore!" he began to weep into his hands as he confessed to her. "I never wanted to want you like this! I've tried to be a good father, to take care of you and to protect you, to give you everything. I've been waiting for a storm of boys to come knocking on my door for years, but they would never come. I prepared myself as I watched you grow, that one day I would have to fight them off with a stick, but I've never had one phone call asking you out, one visit from a boy interested in you. Why, Carly? Why am I the only one who wants you?" He sobbed as he asked.

"You're not," she said, her own tears hot on her cheeks. "I've just turned down all those boys because you're the one I want. The only one I want."

Mark Ricks was blindsided by his daughter's confession. He looked up at her and part of him wanted so badly to hold her as she cried, to be her father. But he was afraid, so afraid, that if he touched her, held her close, that he wouldn't be able to help himself. He was so weak.

"I'm such a freak, Carly. I'm sick for wanting you like this, and now that I know you know, I need you to help me fight against it. If you need to move out or go to a college far away or cut me out of your life forever, I'm prepared to make that happen. I hate to lose you, but if the best thing is for you to stay away from me, then I understand that."

"Fuck you!" she wailed, standing up suddenly, her fists balled at her side. "You don't get to push me away because you want me. You don't get to deny me my only family because of your own weakness! And you don't get to throw me out like nothing so you don't have to look at me. You made promises to me just yesterday that I was going to see you all the time, and now all of a sudden you're backing out? Where does that leave me? How do I answer those questions? 'No, I'm not going home for Christmas because my mom's dead and my dad wants to fuck me.'"

"What do I do, Carly?" he sighed, trying to settle himself and her. 

She dropped onto his bed by his hip. After a moment of silence, the air thick with tension, she simply posed a question. "Why do we have to do anything?"

Mark looked at his daughter who was fidgeting with a string on the seam of her pants. "What do you mean?"

"Now we both know how we feel. Nothing is really different than it was yesterday, except that we know."

"Yeah, but that changes everything."

"Why? Why does it have to change everything?"

"It just does," he said, exasperated.

"Daddy, how long have you wanted me?" she asked.

He thought for a minute, hating to answer her. "A year, I guess, maybe a little more."

"Five," she said. "I've wanted you for five years."

"What?"

"Remember that beach trip with Breanna when I was thirteen?"

"Yeah." Carly raised an eyebrow and nodded. "That long?"

"See what I mean? We've been doing this for a long time already. Last night we just opened up a little and this morning we are closer because of it. I didn't know all that stuff about you until the last twelve hours. And now you know something about me that you didn't know until the last twelve hours."

"I guess, but a lot can change in a day."

"It's not a car wreck, Daddy; it's a profession of mutual love."

"Romantic-slash-sexual attraction between a father and daughter."

"Be that as it may..."

"So now what?"

"Are you willing to see how it plays out? Just let things flow, not forced one way or the other?"

"Are you sure this is what you want? You're okay with this?"

"I'm positive, Daddy."

He sat for a minute, staring at the ceiling, Carly quiet by his side. He looked over at her and smiled and nodded. "Okay, let's see what plays out."

"Really?!" She squealed. He nodded before she knocked the back of his head into the headboard by lunging at him to hug his neck. "Ouch. I'm sorry, Daddy," she laughed as he laughed while rubbing his head.

"It's okay. If you'll let me get up, I'll take you out for breakfast."

"Our first date?" she asked.

"I was just thinking of a dad taking his daughter to breakfast, but I'm okay counting it as our first date."

"Yay!" she squealed, bouncing off his bed and running out of his room before slamming her door closed to change.

Mark just laughed to himself, appreciating her excitement. He was still nervous about it, but there was also a sense of relief about having it out in the open and knowing that she was okay with his feelings for her; even more, she had returned them in kind.



They caught the breakfast crowd just right. They were too late for the early-risers/yard salers, but ahead of the brunch crowd. Carly prompted him to ask for a table in a corner, reminding him quietly that they were on a date. To anyone else, it would look like a daddy-daughter breakfast, but to Carly especially, it was her first date with the man of her dreams. And he didn't mind one bit.

The older hostess smiled as she seated them at a small corner table by a window and they were quickly greeted by a genteel young woman who cared for their needs throughout the remainder of their meal. As soon as she left after taking their order Carly poured cream into her coffee and stirred it in as her father was taking a sip of his.

"You didn't finish your story," she smiled, setting her spoon on a napkin.

"What? Here?" Mark asked, astonished.

"Trust me, you're safer here than at home."

"Good point. Where was I?"

"Momma had just swallowed your spunk while she played with herself."

"Oh," he blushed, "Right." He cleared his throat. "That helped me last a little while, which was her plan all along. She said the last thing she wanted was for me to be done in under a minute." He smiled and shook his head.

"Does that really happen?" she asked.

"Yep. If a guy is excited enough, he can be quick on the trigger. Relieving some of that pressure may help him stay up and ready a little longer. Of course, he can train himself over time to establish that stamina, but remember, this was my first time and the anticipation itself could have been enough to make me blow early."

"Was it Momma's first time?"

"No. She had had one other boyfriend in high school, but after that first semester in college, he broke it off. We met the next fall. So Amy knew a little bit, but she said he wasn't a very good lover (go figure), so although she had some experience, really it was our time together that made for great sex."

"Okay, so go ahead."

"She pulled me to the bedroom and lay back on the bed. While she watched me take off my pants, she started ma-"

"Here ya go," said the waitress, setting down two giant country breakfasts in front of them. They thanked her before she left. When she was out of earshot, Mark continued.

"She started masturbating and was really giving me a show."

"We do sound a lot alike," Carly added with a smirk.

"Wait, you mean..."

"I liked you watching me last night. It was hotter than the story."

He shook his head in disbelief, smiling at the thought. "Just like your mother," he said. He continued, "So she's bringing herself over and I'm getting hard again. She smiles and says, 'Come on, Lover. I'm all yours.' I was on her in a flash. I ate her for a minute, but she put a stop to that, reminding me that she wanted, in her words, 'to be split by my big cock.'"

"Oh, my god, Daddy," muttered Carly, "I can only imagine." She knew her nipples were hard, but didn't care if he noticed or not. She kind of hoped he did.

He did. Mark tried not to stare. Last night he was hesitant to share this story. What he learned this morning turned that completely around.

"Needless to say, I didn't last long. The wet velvet embrace of her pussy was the most amazing thing I had ever experienced."

"Did she let you come in her or did she make you pull out?"

"She wanted me to pull out, but as soon as I did, she stroked me off and I shot all the way from her cheek to her bush. That was the first time I had seen her sprayed and it's like snapshot in my mind." He shrugged and said, "So that's the story of our first time." He took a bite of his eggs, letting that statement hang for a moment.

"Wait, so that's it? She didn't come at the same time?"

"Carly, I told you it was our first time. More specifically it was MY first time. That doesn't just happen. You have to learn each other, work together, communicate, and make adjustments. Most of the time we didn't come together anyway, but we would make sure each other were satisfied."

"So all those movies where the first sex is stellar is..."

"Fiction. Sex can be stellar, but a lot of times the first time two people are together it can be exciting, but it won't be the best sex they have together."

"Nicholas Sparks is a liar," she said, stabbing at her eggs while her father burst into laughter.



As Carly stepped around the car to take her father's arm again, she asked, "So, what do you have planned for today?"

"I have some work to do in the yard."

"Mm," she looked up at the sky. "It looks like a nice day to tan." Carly looked up at her father's face with a sly smile. He returned her smile as he opened the front door.

"I guess it's a little warm to wear a shirt while I mow the lawn."

"It does seem that way," she replied. 

After Mark closed the door behind him, he turned back around to see Carly standing before him with her hands behind her back. "I enjoyed our date, Daddy," she said, taking a step toward him. "Would you think badly of me if I let you kiss me on the first date?" She didn't think it would occur to her father that this would also be her first kiss with any boy, but she didn't want to put any pressure on him. She was nervous even asking for a kiss, but she at least knew that they both wanted the same thing.

He stepped toward her with a smile. "I wouldn't think badly of you at all. As long as you promise not to judge me for being so out of practice."

"Maybe you should start practicing more. Like, a lot more." Her stomach tightened up as his hand snuck around her waist to rest on her lower back. She felt him pull her the closing inches into him until they were pressed lightly together. For some reason she licked her lips. Her eyes closed on their own before she felt her father's soft lips rest on hers for a moment before a tingle traveled to her stomach and surprisingly, down to her groin.

Mark hadn't kissed anyone in over a decade. Yes he had kissed his daughter on the cheek every night before he tucked her in or left for school, and at random times during the day. He had probably kissed her cheek or the top of her head fifty thousand times over the years, but he's never kissed her like this. The only woman he'd ever kissed like this was her mother, but not since the morning of her death.

The kiss she had asked for was affecting him more than he had expected it would. His cock began to stir and he found himself tentatively aggressive. This was new and he wasn't sure yet how he should play it, but he couldn't help himself.