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At the Gras...

By: jaybee



Author's Note : Inspired by the Mardi Gras Parade(s) and the Rio Carnival, this story is purely a work of fiction. There are no factual errors because it is fantasy, and if you find differences with the actual Mardi Gras or the Carnival, please note that I haven't given enough details for you to nitpick. This is not for those who like reality in these stories... that's like asking for a politician who's honest. Dream on.

* * * * *

"Where's Ronnie?" My wife June asked me upon entering the house. It was close to six in the evening. 

"Out," I replied, not exactly bothering with a full reply, my attention distracted by the live feed of the year's Mardi Gras just a few miles away from home. On the box, the camera had caught a few young ladies flashing themselves... my wife snorted when she saw the scene, and then gasped.

"There she is!"

"What?"

"There," June stabbed the TV with her finger, pointing to a girl in the background who wasn't putting up much of a fight as she was tossed from one guy to another, each taking his own sweet time to pull her tee-shirt up and grab a handful of her tan-lined tits. I ogled the firm pair that the girl had - those tooters shot right into your eyes. The camera zoomed in on two perfect nipples, so obviously hard, their color an exotic dark shade of pink. This girl was definitely aroused...

As she was making me...

And then, as the camera panned out, the girl pushed her top back over her breasts. June, still in shock, hadn't spoken another word. I stared at the face. So familiar...

"She looks a lot like Ron, doesn't she?" Unlike my wife, I didn't really believe that our daughter was such a wanton young woman.

"Dammit, Jack, that IS Ronnie! See that mole on her jaw. And those earrings..."

Unfortunately for my daughter, the cameraman focused on her for a couple of seconds too long, enough for me to confirm what my wife had just pointed out. That mole... those earrings... those breasts...

"But she said she was going over to a friend's place," I offered defensively, lest my wife put all the blame on me for being so easily taken in.

My wife snorted. "Sure, and that's what I told MY father when I came over to see you, and had you knock me up..." She stared at me with all the fury of an angry mother, and I averted my eyes back to the TV. Thankfully, Ron was no longer anywhere to be seen. Let her come home tonight, I promised myself, there would be hell to pay.

My wife, apparently, wasn't going to be so patient. She threw her coat across the room - she was a lawyer by profession - and grabbed my arm. "Come on," she muttered, her fury threatening to explode, and I figured it would be less dangerous to follow her out to the car, even as I tried to figure out exactly what it was that she had in mind.

Before I knew it, we were on the road, speeding right over the limit, with a very pissed-off mother at the wheel. I tried to calm her a couple of times, "Don't overreact, baby, she -"

"She is a two-bit whore, that's what she is," my wife hissed, and I bristled at the remark. Sure, my daughter was enjoying some 'freedom,' but she wasn't putting out for anyone, at least as far as I could see. And the description, the thought came to my mind, was ironic in that it came from a woman who slept with her boss to get some extra perks.

"At least," I muttered loudly enough for my wife to hear, "She doesn't sleep with the partners of Hillworth and bullshit Co. to score some brownie points."

The knuckles of my wife's hand were white as she gripped the wheel fiercely. Back when I had first confronted my wife with proof of her infidelity, we had made a deal never to bring that home again, because I couldn't convince my wife that I didn't sleep with my publisher - my brother does, but that's another matter. That peacetime treaty was now broken.

Maybe she was just too stressed out, or maybe she had finally accepted the truth; June did not bring up anything about my publisher (Okay, so I slept with the sexy lady once! Just once!) and was silent for several seconds. That relief, I soon learnt, was only temporary. "Bitch! She's only eighteen, and already she looks ready to screw half the town."

I started to open my mouth to ask her to get a grip on her language but she cut me off. "And shut up, Jack. You allow her to go to a pervert's paradise and now defend her? You are just as bad as she is, maybe worse. Irresponsible son of a -"

Not wanting to hear her rant, I turned away from her and concentrated on the outside. My wife, the irritating shrew that she was, continued for some more time, making sure I heard some of her compliments, a 'motherfucker', a 'home-sitting loser' and 'an impotent bastard.' I almost rose to the bait, biting back certain comments with more control than I would be able to muster the next time.

Finally, realizing that she no longer had a willing audience, my wife shut up.

The more I thought about it, the more it struck me that Ronnie was among the sexiest of women that I had ever seen. It was not like I was suddenly woken up to find my little girl a grown woman, and in spite of having more than a gentlemanly interest in her development, I was surprised by how... wholesome... that's the only word I can think of... she was. Firm breasts, a trim tummy and just that ounce of fat to get rid of any accusation that she was a figure-conscious reed. 

This was my daughter I was thinking about, I reminded myself, only to find out that it was extremely difficult to think about anything else. Or anyone else. Ron was hot. There was no argument there. 

We pulled into the main approach to the place where the Gras was being held less than five minutes later, not even wanting to look at each other. Part of the wide road was already a parking lot of sorts, with a lot of emergency vehicles and police cruisers. One of the cops gestured us to stop. We obliged, a little apprehensive when a partner joined him, but the first cop smiled warmly, putting me at ease.

"If you're gonna be back and out soon," he offered, pointing to a spot between a cruiser and an ambulance, "You can park there."

"We aren't sure, actually," I told him, a little sheepishly, "You see, we're looking for our daughter..."

"We? Oh, you mean Blondie here's your wife?" The second cop gave my wife an approving look-over, maybe even mentally undressing her. He could have raped her, for all I cared. 

There was something about these two - Officers Roberts and Sorenson, according to their name-plates - that was pleasant. They laughed when I gave a theatrical sigh and agreed. "Unfortunately." If looks could have killed, I assume, my wife wouldn't have had to worry about any divorce proceedings... after all, they don't have a posthumous clause, do they?

"Well, buddy, you've got some balls though," Roberts said.

"Why?"

"Well," Sorenson clarified for his partner, "Most of the pops who come here looking for their daughters come alone... but they don't leave alone, you know. And some of them get mighty lucky..."

Reading my confused expression, Roberts added with a naughty grin, "And their wives never even realize why it takes them so long... get it?"

"Not me," I answered, getting their meaning. "Ron would never allow it." 

"Veronica your name, missus?"

"No, it's my daughter's," I cut in, pointedly ignoring my wife's continuing glare. "This one is Mrs. Jack Mathew, the First."

Roberts and Sorenson broke up over that. "Hi, Jack," the former said, shaking my extended hand, "Welcome to Mardi Gras. And what do we call the missus?"

"Anything that comes to mind," I quipped, and the three of us laughed. "Of course," I added, "She prefers June. Winter, though, would have been more appropriate. Brrr!"

Roberts was still laughing as he signaled one of his colleagues to move their truck. Wordlessly, June drove into the dead-end alley that had been hidden by the bulk of the truck. Even as she turned off the ignition, the police truck was back in place.

Roberts and Sorenson were waiting for us at the roadblock. "Before you go in there," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the din from the party, "It gets rough in there, you know. We've got some plainclothes in there, but no boys in blue, so protect yourself. Especially you, Mrs. Mathew -"

"June," she corrected him harshly.

"June, in case you've never been here before, let me tell you it gets pretty harrowing. We don't step in unless we've got to, okay, and we are blind to anything else that goes on in there. The people who walk in understand this - it's made very clear to them. To be blunt, you are putting yourself at risk by going in. You can't fight back, and you will in all probability be violated."

"Like what?" I asked, enjoying the fact that he was painting a scary picture to my wife.

"Well, in short, by the time you come out - and I have to say you are too attractive - the only thing you may have intact is your life. Some of those drunks in there get pretty wild and fuck anything that moves, anything that grabs their fancy, but some of them are just content enough to rip off your clothes and feel you up. They won't hurt you, at least not in a permanent manner, but you might have a tough time walking at the end of it all.

"I suggest you and your husband hunt in pairs - no, I wouldn't recommend that - Jack looks like he could start a fist fight protecting you," at which I smiled wryly, thinking how I would leave my wife to the wolves while I hunted for my daughter and grabbed an ass or two in the process, "The best thing for you to do would be to stay here until your husband comes back."

My wife's always had a big ego, and it seemed as if Roberts had succeeded in troubling that. She brushed aside his warning with undisguised contempt, "I can take care of myself, thank you. I don't need his - or anyone's help - getting in and out of there, and anyone who messes with me is the one going to have problems walking."

The three of us watched as my wife huffed off, her business skirt flaring enticingly behind her back, and the clatter of her heels was lost to the overwhelming mix of party beats that came from less than a hundred meters away. "How is she?" Sorenson asked, watching her ass intently.

"Bitch," I informed them. "Way too aggressive. We fought on our way here."

"Figured," Roberts commented with a smile.

Sorenson shook his head sadly. "Women like that, they never make it!"

"Yeah," his partner concurred, much to my delight, "Attractive and catty! She ain't gonna last an hour in there without getting screwed!"

"Okay, guys, gotta go!" 

"All the best, pal, go get her."

"Thanks," I said as I started to follow my wife, "I owe you one."

"Don't worry," Sorenson called out, "We will take you up on that!"

I was less than five feet away from the makeshift gate when I spotted my wife. Even though she had managed to move only a couple of feet into the crowd, she looked dishelved, quite harangued. The guard at the gate, obviously placed to weed out minors, waved me on. 

In spite of my height, which is over six feet, it was quite hard to spot anyone in the mass of humanity, much less maintain a line of sight. Thankfully, there was a long platform running the length of the drive on the center of the road, just a couple of feet high, tall enough for me to watch my wife even as I searched for our prodigal daughter. 

Even at that time, the sight seemed quite funny. My wife, ever so 'polite' and 'soft,' bumped into a topless punk, causing him to spill his drink on her starched white shirt. While I couldn't exactly hear what was being said, I knew enough of June to understand that she wasn't apologizing, not from the way she was shaking her fist at him.

I couldn't help but break out laughing when the punk responded by dumping the rest of his drinks over my wife's head and added insult to injury by kissing her rather forcefully on the mouth. June's hands flailed helplessly, trying to beat him up, but he must have had her in such a vice grip that he could kiss her for a full minute without any interruption. When he was done, he pushed her back on the ground, pulled her skirt to her waist - June being too stunned and breathless to stop him - and waited.

When he was certain my wife was fully conscious once again, he ripped her shirt open and gave her the finger!

I stopped laughing only when I felt a hand on my erection, cupping it through my shorts, and saw that the hand belonged to a young woman, obviously drunk, who had her blouse tied around her waist. "Hmmm," she said, eyes fixed on my crotch, "What is that?"


Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my wife start to get up. Poor girl! The moment she tried to hold her shirt closed, she slipped and fell flat on her butt, much to the amusement of everyone around her. Finally, one of the girls of the group extended her hand and helped June up, rewarding herself to a kiss that June was too surprised to deny. The girl managed to push my wife's shirt off, and by the time June could breathe again, the straps of her bra were already off her shoulders.

I watched, amused, as my haughty wife shuffled away from the spot in a hurry, trying to pull the straps back on even as she tried to regain her composure. She looked around, eyes burning, and saw me.

Just to irritate her further, I turned to the girl who had her hands over my balls. "I bet my wife your tits are much better than hers," I lied, grinning naughtily, "And she is looking at us now."

The girl smacked her lips, returning my naughty look, and without a word, undid her blouse. Her breasts spilled out, bigger than the blouse had let on, topped with pierced nipples. Without any deliberation whatsoever, the young woman threw her arms around me and kissed me, and I kissed her back. My hands slid into her shorts, meeting resistance in the form of crinkly hair that I guessed was just as fair as the rest of her hair. 

We broke the kiss, and I glanced at June - she was livid! I smiled, waved at her and asked the young woman to do the same. This was fun!

That, I guess, set the tone for the rest of the evening. Darkness had fallen everywhere else, but the Mardi Gras lights were so spectacular nobody even noticed the transition from dawn to dusk. There was revelry everywhere, and as I moved further into the parade, eyes scanning for any sign of my daughter, I noticed that the crowd was starting to get a little wilder. There were a couple of female streakers running about, chased around by almost a dozen guys, and one of the women collided into my wife. 

As they struggled to get up, the guys - all hunks, college level - jumped on top of them, covering the writhing females. This was too good to resist, and I bounded down from the platform to get a closer look. Quite a crowd had gathered around them by the time I reached the site, but I had no problem using my physique to get front-row seats.

The girl - the original streaker - was being pumped mercilessly by a guy who had his pants around his ankles, while another whipped his cream on her face. It was pretty racy stuff, even for an orgy, and pretty soon, some of the onlooking girls also joined in, making it a wild free-for-all. It would have been quite easy to miss one particular victim among the humping bodies, and if it hadn't been for June's screaming, I would have definitely missed her.

As it was, I think she managed to grab everyone's attention.

Her skirt was half-way down her thighs, twisted around so that the slit that would normally have been on the side of her thighs was now between them, but what really grabbed everyone's attention was her thong underwear. She must be really having a bad day, I thought, and now this; some of the girls in the crowd giggled when they saw the white material, in stark contrast to her black bra. 

The crowd egged the boys, chanting, "Strip, strip, strip," and the boys tried to oblige. In spite of all her kicking, they kept on coming back, lunging at her and finding only air. She was rolling all over the ground, quite amusing to see, and even I had to admire her spirit for holding on despite the fact that the numbers game was against her. Eventually, she would be overpowered, and these guys - they didn't seem to be to forgiving about the pasting they were receiving - would make sure she would think twice before ever using her feet again.

Just as I had predicted, the tide turned. Three of the boys jumped on top of her at the same time, each with a specific target. One boy managed to grab hold of her hands and pinned them behind my wife's head; another locked her legs together. The third, his task made easier by her temporary immobilization, got on top of her and straddled her stomach, right below her breasts. With the swiftness of a striking snake, he slid atop her, his face now inches from my wife's, and his legs locking hers between them.


A loud roar went up as he kissed her, his hands replacing his buddy's as he held her arms powerfully over her head. It was as effective a maneuver as I had ever seen to quell a fighting woman, and I was certainly glad it had worked on my wife. Someone in the crowd held up a stop-watch and called off the time every five seconds. The boy continued to kiss until the end of the second minute, at which time he moved away, panting.

No sooner had that happened than was another boy on top of my wife, locking lips as the clock started to tick again. He outlasted his friend, a cheer going up as the record was broken, and stood up. 

Next on was his girlfriend, the other streaker, and she did not even waste a single second. Her hands cradled my wife's head as she bent over for another kiss; pretty soon, she rolled over, taking my wife along with her, and the crowd cheered every second - apparently, everyone thought my wife was also co-operating. That she was sweating was a question beyond doubt; that she was aroused was evidenced by her wet panties.

And that she was still defiant was certain when she managed to punch the streaker in the stomach...

For a moment, everyone was too stunned to react. The gasping woman, her breath temporarily knocked out of her, staggered in my direction. Reflexively, I caught hold of her. 

"Are you alright?" 

"Thanks," she said after a moment of silence. There was no awkwardness in the fact that she was completely naked and I was a stranger, and I made it a point to ignore my wife who was, once again, pinned by the three guys.

"What do you want us to do?" one of the boys asked.

"Let her go," the young woman replied, looking at June contemptuously, "Kick her out of here."

"Wait," I was suddenly inspired. "If you don't mind, I think I've got a better idea."

The woman smiled at me. "Well, what's it, luv?" she asked huskily, once again the sultry seductress.

I knew I had her. "For starters," I nibbled her nose. "I am Jack."

"I am Mary," the girl said, "And these are my brothers, Bill, Bob and BB."

Her brothers nodded politely, but there was no mistaking their anger at June. "So what do you say, boss?"

"Does someone here have a candle? My wife does have some kind of liking for hot wax dripping on her body..."

"Your wife?!?"

"Yep, and this here's June. Oh, don't worry, I am not going to punch you or anything - June and I had a fight on our way here."

The three of them - four, counting their sister - were visibly relieved. "And you are okay with this...?" Mary started to ask.

"I couldn't have planned it better myself," I assured her.

"Well, in that case," Mary wrapped her arms around me, "How about you and I engaging a little while my brothers here treat your wife to some hot wax?"

As much as I would have like to say yes, I told the nudist, "I can't. I am looking for my daughter."

"You have a daughter?" Mary asked, surprised. "One that's old enough to be here?"


At the Gras...



"Yes and yes. Guilty as charged."

"What do you know! And I wouldn't have pegged you for a day over twenty-five."

"Flatterer!" Playfully, I gave her taut nipple a little squeeze. "If I were, though, I wouldn't let you out of my sight for the week."

She giggled. "What's her name? Your daughter's?"

"Ron - Veronica."

"Well," Mary started to kiss my lips even as she was speaking, "I could pretend to be Veronica, Jack. If she ain't lucky enough, you know..."

Mary and I kissed, and by the time we pulled apart, someone had already tied my wife's hands and legs with strips of cloth. June stared at me with venom in her eyes, but I returned her glare smugly. After all, I was having the time of my life, treating my wife in the same shitty manner she had come to treat me, and the way I was being fawned over ought to make any man proud. 

Mary tugged at my wife's bra, and it came out after a couple of tries. Without the use of her arms and feet, June was a defeated woman. I chided myself for being a sadist as I saw her close her eyes as Mary brought a lighted candle and tipped its wax over her left nipple.

"Oooowwww!" the scream was really pathetic to hear, but thankfully, Mary had enough presence of mind to gag her with her own bra. She turned to me with a mischievious smile.

"You told us she liked this..."

I shrugged, returning her smile. 

"You liar... One day, I might just punish you..."

"I'll be waiting," I promised as I walked away.

The crowd had really picked up the beat by now, and there were more topless women on the platform. Some of the really wild ones threw away their clothes and danced along the platform, picked up by the hundreds of small video cams that everyone knew were present and no one wanted to expose. 

It was just gut instinct that made me turn into the mall halfway down the Mardi Gras parade. This was one of the hottest haunts even on off-days, and maybe, just maybe, my daughter was there. It was no worse than searching along the main route, I reasoned.

"Dad?"

Pay dirt!

I turned around to find a very perplexed Veronica, obviously because her father would have been among the last of the people she would have expected to run into on this kind of an occasion. She wasn't alone though; with her was her best friend of five years, a brunette called Sasha, and thankfully, both were fully clothed.

"Hi Ronnie!" I smiled at my only child.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

"But how did you - I mean, I told you - how?"

"Saw you on TV," I said simply.

"Oh."

Silence.

Rather than rail at her, or, contradictorily, support her freedom of choice, I decided I would wait for her to speak. She had to deal with this entirely her way, leading it towards any direction she saw fit. It would be a valuable practice for her, for life is such that you often get to make the most difficult of decisions, not others.

In the meantime, while she was pondering her defense, I checked her out. She was just a head shorter than I, taking after her mother's dirty 'Blondie' look that reached down below her shoulder blades. Her eyebrows, though, were dark, closer to red than to yellow, and it sometimes gave her an exotic look. The gold loops that were her earrings complemented the softness of her face. Her lips... I tried to ignore them. For some reason, they had always had this quality of making me want to taste them, to find out if they did taste as sweet as the cherries whose color they so patently matched.

My daughter was dressed in a gray tee-shirt that was now pulled down over the waistband of her skirt - the last time I saw her, it struck me, the very same t-shirt had been bunched around her neck as she had bared her chest for the world to see. The thin skirt swayed about her, conservatively covering her legs when she was still but flaring out to show off her thighs the moment she moved. 

"Re." Caught unawares, I shifted my focus hastily back to her face.

"I am sorry," I mumbled, "What did you say?"

"That's exactly what I said," Ronnie replied, a little edge in her voice as she attempted to melt me with her smile. "I am sorry."

"For what, young woman?"

She smacked her lips, embarrassed. "I lied to you."

"So..."

"Dad, I am so sorry! I shouldn't have lied to you... I was afraid you wouldn't let me come."

"What did you think I would have done, ground you for asking? Is that how I've treated you?" I asked, allowing a little hurt to show.

"No," she looked down at the floor, voice quivering now, "But I didn't want you to think that I was being loose, Daddy - just a little fun." 

Looking at her sorry form, I lost any resolve I might have encouraged to scold her. She was sorry - either that, or she deserved an Oscar. I placed my hands on her shoulders and squeezed her gently. "Baby, Daddy's angry you lied to me," I had to make that part certain, "But he's glad you stopped at that. And, Ron...?"

She looked up at me, eyes moist, and my heart went out for her. I had been her age once; sure, I knew what she was going through. "Yes, Daddy?"

"How do you think I knew you were here?"

For a moment, her beautiful face creased into a puzzled frown. "You said you saw me... on TV." Silence. Realization. Enlightenment. "That means... you were watching the Parade, weren't you?"

I took my hands off her for just a brief second, to signal surrender, and then they were back on her shoulders. "Guilty as charged."

"Cool!" For the first time that evening, I heard Sasha speak. Ronnie grinned at her friend, and then turned to me, pretending to be shocked. "You don't say..."

Before I could reply to that, Ronnie surprised me by going up on tiptoes and kissing me on my lips.

At that instant, something changed. I cannot define it, for neither was the moment nor was the sensation quantitative, but because it fell in the space between a father-daughter kiss and a lover-lover kiss. Not this, but not exactly that. You have to experience it to understand it.

And then I felt her tongue, for just the fraction of an instant, brush my lips... and that was the end of the kiss...

"Wow!" which was accurately how eloquent I suddenly felt, "What was that?"

She smiled warmly at me. "For being such a great Dad!" 

"If you two can just hold that pose," Sasha broke in, the third voice sounding a little harsh to me - and that was mainly because I realized I could never have enough of hearing my daughter talk - "I think I can snap some quickies."

That was the first time that evening that I noticed that Sasha had a digital camera with her, a compact Yashica - or Nikon, I am not sure now - and had it aimed at us. Apparently, she was just one of the few hundreds who would be recording this year's Parade for posterity, and she must have thought that a sensitive father-daughter moment was one of those worth immortalizing. True, I would never forget the smile of relief on my daughter's face...

Sasha snapped off a couple even as we turned to face the camera, and before we knew it, she was barking out poses and we, my daughter and I, were dancing to her tune. Finally, after the sixth or the seventh shot, Sasha asked us to hug each other.

Ronnie was the first to catch on, and she smiled brightly as she threw her arms around me, pressing herself to me in a flash. By the time I realized that she would feel my hard-on, she had already felt it; her face grew red as she jumped away, staring at my poking crotch. "WHAT was THAT?"

I felt myself flush with embarrassment at having been caught so much on the wrong foot, and was almost ready to apologize when it struck me that the two females were laughing their heads off. I attempted a weak smile, seeking to remove any suspicion that either of them had caused it. In my hearts, though, I knew that my daughter had, indeed, been the single-handed cause, and for that, conscience bothered me.

"I can explain," I began, not sure how much of it would sink in for Ronnie and Sasha.

"What's to explain?" Ronnie cut me off with a wry grin. "I know a winner - or should I say weenie," and Sasha broke up at that, "When I feel one, and that, daddy, requires no explanation."

"Yeah," Sasha added, still giggling wildly, "Not unless Ronnie caused it!"

My face froze. Guilt.

Ronnie noticed it. Her face hardened the next second.

"Oh my God! I did that?"

For some reason, Sasha bent over laughing when she heard that. My silence was a damning indictment, and even as Ronnie and I just stared at each other, one surprised, another sorry, my daughter's best friend managed to cry out, "That is so funny!"

"SASHA!" my daughter growled.

Still doubled over, Sasha mumbled something about being sorry before laughing again. And to this day, while I'll never know for sure whether it was intentional or not, it did have the desired effect - Ronnie started to laugh at the situation. Relieved, I joined her.

"Did Ronnie ever tell you that she masturbates about you once in a week?"

This time, it was Ronnie's turn for her smile to freeze on her face. And mine had all the glamour of a fish fresh out of water. Gaping, I managed to ask, "What?"

"Don't you dare -" my daughter began, but Sasha continued as if there was nothing wrong about revealing your best friend's secrets.

"You heard me, didn't you, Jack -" we had dropped the Mr. Mathew bit long ago - "Your daughter, your darling Veronica, has a huge crush on you. In other words, you form the backbone of her sexual fantasies... why, she even gets off when Tony pretends he is you."

"Damn, Sasha, you are gonna pay..." Her face red with fury - or embarrassment, I am not sure - Ronnie lunged at her best friend. Expecting such an attack, however, Sasha moved away in the nick of time and ran down the corridor, and it was only then that I noticed that the floor was practically deserted. There were groups here and there, but there was not a hint of the characteristic hustle and bustle of a mall. The shops were open though, a fact my wallet would come to regret a few minutes later.

The two were racing around the corridor now. I was impressed by the way Ronnie was cutting the distance shorter between her and Sasha, but things went awry when, while making a sharp turn, Ronnie slipped. Sasha and I were by her side in an instant.

Veronica smiled sweetly at me. "No bones broken," she remarked, turning to Sasha. "Which is more than I can say when I get my hands on you, you squealing pussy!"

"Oh, really?" replied the feisty girl, "You and what army?"

"Me... and Dad."

"In that case," Sasha quipped, "I don't have to worry about a thing. The minute you two get together, baby, I've got a feeling someone's got to tell you to stop all that screaming."

Even before I had gathered the sexual innuendo, my daughter rose to the bait. "You should know all about that, given that you invite me over for a night and then spend it screaming your head off when your dad reams you..."

"At least," Sasha managed a very serious expression, "I don't deny that I like it - or even the fact that we do it. Unlike some people here who let their daddies slide their hands into their skirts..."

The warm flesh of my daughter's waist, which I had been rubbing absently, stung my fingers at once, and I jerked my hand out of her skirt. True, I hadn't gone beyond a fatherly instinct to rub her pain away, but in the light of the admissions, and particularly those comments of Sasha, my relationship, I would realize later, with my daughter changed forever. 

"Wait a minute," I figured offence was the best form of any defense, "Do you actually sleep with your father?"

"Every other night," Sasha claimed smugly. "When Mom's home. If she's on a trip or something, we take an entire day off just to try out new things... don't get me wrong, Jack, I'm not queer or anything, and Dad's not a perv either. It's just that the sex is so good we talked Mom into letting us be. Dad can have me whenever he wants me - I can have him even if he is about to make out with Mom. 

"It's quite a nice arrangement, you know. Maybe you should try it?"

"No, thanks," Ronnie and I shouted out in unison.

Sasha grinned. "See. You two are connecting already..."

I helped my daughter back on her feet. She gave her hip a wiggle to see if anything felt broken; to me, it looked about as sublime as the sex-dances outside. 

"What now?" my daughter asked. "And where's Mom? I don't think she would have let you come here all on your own."

"You know her too well," I began, then went on to tell my daughter how her mother was, probably, at the very moment, being gangbanged out on the streets by punks less than half her age. Not wanting to appear sadistic, however, I edited my role with the whole affair, juicing up my wife's insolence, and by the time I finished, it was my daughter who had a bigger smile.

"Serves that slut right."

"Watch your tongue, dear", I warned, but not really meaning it, "She is your mother."

"Okay," nodded my daughter, "How 'bout 'it serves that two-timing wife of yours right'?"

We all laughed at that, myself included. Of course, I told myself, Ronnie had been more accurate in her description the first time. "And it's quite ironic, you know, she was calling you a slut."

Sasha chuckled. "If she knew what you guys know, I wonder what she would call me."

"Probably her twin sister," my daughter joked. "But what about the keys, Dad? You told me when you left her, my dear mother didn't have a stitch of clothing on her..."

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a set of keys. "There were a couple of cops who warned us, so I decided I would hold on to these."

We looked at each other for some time, a temporary lull in conversation as the irrepressible Sasha checked out a newly-arrived gang of half-naked girls and boys. Presently, Ronnie spoke. "Well, I guess it's time to go back home, huh Daddy?"

It was an unplanned deviation, but I figured all of us needed a really good break. At my wife's expense, of course. I reached into my pockets once again and pulled out two credit cards. "Only if you want to, Hun, but I am sure your mother would be real disappointed if we didn't break these in today..."

The two girls cheered as they snatched the cards away from my hands. "How much can we spend, Daddy?" Ronnie asked.

"Max them," I said, feeling very naughty. "After all, it's June's cards. I'm sure she wouldn't mind spending a little on the two of you."

"Me too, Jack? That's so sweet." Sasha was quite surprised at my 'generous' gesture.

"Well, I don't there are enough things here for Ron to burn up two credits all on her own... she's gonna need some serious help."

"What can we buy, Daddy?"

"Anything," I told her, meaning anything.

"Can I - uh, you know - buy some clothes, Daddy?"

"Of course, what sort of a question is that?"

"What she means, Jack, is that she is looking for something to wear under. Like as in silky bra and panties, transparent negligees, little-duckling knickers... maybe even a stocking or two, throw in a garter belt..."

"Jesus," I pretended to be shocked, "You are making her sound like a 20th century whore."

"Definitely not," Sasha explained. "You can't turn a nice girl like her into a whore -"

"My mother's one," Ronnie pointed out.

Sasha shook her head. “You ain't got the itch for it, you know, you are more a stay-at-home-and-I'll-love-my-daddy type. Which explains the sexy underwear you've been planning to buy, doesn't it?"

"You are so gross," Ronnie was clearly flustered by the way her friend kept propping me up as a centerpiece.

"So are you when you drool at him," Sasha looked at me pointedly. This was turning out to be quite embarrassing for me, so I decided to change the topic.

"Like I said, anything your heart desires, you can buy it."

"Even whips, chains and handcuffs?" Sasha asked, hopefulness in her voice. "Mom's been getting too bossy lately, and Dad and I are planning to pull her down by a couple of pegs."

"Whatever!"

"Thank you so much, Jack, you're too cool." With that, she threw her arms around me, as if in abandon, and started kissing me. With a beautiful girl in your arms, in a state of arousal, with your daughter looking on to add to the lustiness, and if the girl was kissing you fiercely, AND if you can push her away... you are not human.

So I did the only thing I could. I grabbed Sasha's ass, pressing her to me, and kissed back, instinctively knowing that the girl loved her kisses hard and furious, proceeding until I tasted a drop of her blood. She moaned loudly.

"Cut it out, you two," Ronnie, jealous (?), played the spoilsport. "That's my father, in case you've forgotten, Sasha dear." Sarcasm reigned her tone.

Pulling her face away, Sasha grinned at her friend with all the satisfaction that can be expressed without words. "Well, my dear Ronnie, you can have him once you get home. Why don't you learn to share?"

"Have him... share?" My daughter sputtered. "Haven't you the hell realized anything?"

"Cool down," Sasha was calm. "Your father deserves a kiss. A big one foe being such a great guy, and if you are not going to oblige him, I am more than happy to. Besides, it's not like I stole your boyfriend or anything." Touche.

Ronnie, too angry to realize that her friend was making her do exactly what she was trying to avoid, stared at Sasha. Then, without a word, she walked up to me, bumped the 'other woman' away, and - this is the moment that remains forever etched in my memory - smacked her lips before tilting her face and kissing me with twice the passion and intensity her friend had shown.

Or was it that, because I was kissing my Princess, I felt a higher sensitivity to those things?

I closed my eyes as I felt her lips press against mine, her crotch colliding rather solidly against my erection, and the only thing I saw with my eyes closed as I kissed her back were those luscious red lips heading towards me. Everything else paled into the background.

I could feel her nipples, pointed and hard, press against my chest.

I could feel the warmth across my pants, across her skirt, across her panties... I could feel her arousal.

I could feel her legs snaking around mine as she absently sought firmer support; I wasn't too sure I didn't need help myself.

Sasha was forgotten. Her kiss was a distant memory, something like taking a cab when you go to buy your own car.

I could feel only the softness of my daughter's lips. I could only feel the shallow breaths emanating from her nostrils teasing my moustache.

I could feel only the sum of my passion and hers, my feelings and her reciprocation. I could feel only one thought - if at all the kiss had to end, it would only be too soon...

We were out of breath by the time we pulled away, arms still hooked, eyes fixed on each other. She smiled shyly, making no effort to move away, and the blush on her face looked so cute I wanted to kiss her again. There was this faint tremor about my cheeks that told me I wasn't being so dispassionate either, a quivering of my lips where she had kissed.

"How about an encore, guys? I didn't get enough time to focus on you..." Sasha cut in.

"Oh, shut up," my daughter retorted, though with a smile, "Look what you made me do!"

"Nothing you didn't want to do," returned her pal. Click. "And from the looks of it, you seem ready for more."

"Maybe," Ronnie replied. "It's none of your business."

"It is, when you come here with me and then leave me alone so that you can go make out with your own father... wait till the girls hear this!"

"Don't you dare -"

"I've got the pictures to prove it."

"Girls, girls," I stepped, reluctantly, away from my daughter whom I had kissed so feelingly only a few seconds ago, "How about a ceasefire? Sasha, dear, what do I have to do to earn your silence?"




At the Gras...



"You've already bought it, Jack," Sasha held up the credit cards. "Of course, Ronnie still hasn't said anything about kissing you... I don't know."

"What do you want me to say?" my smiling daughter asked her.

"How was it?" Sasha had the look of a very serious gossip-monger.

Ronnie hesitated for a second before replying, giving me a peremptory glance. "Okay, I guess."

Sasha made a sound like a beep. "Oops! Wrong answer." She fixed my daughter with a level gaze.

Ronnie broke out into a big sheepish grin. "Okay, I admit it! It was great, the best kiss I've ever had. Satisfied?"

"And?"

"And what? You want me to admit that I wouldn't mind another one of those? Yes. If Daddy kisses me again, I don't think I'll respond by smashing his balls. Enough for you?"

Sasha reached over and gave a very flustered Ronnie a pat on the shoulder. "See! That wasn't so hard to admit, was it?"

"You are incorrigible, Sasha." My daughter, pretending to be ticked off, walked away from us. But I am sure I saw her try very hard to suppress her grin.

"That's what my mother says every time I seduce my father." It was loud enough for the entire block to hear, and as expected, heads turned in our direction. I grabbed Sasha's arm and started to follow my daughter.

"You are a good kisser, you know," Sasha remarked as we caught up with Ronnie, eliciting a glare from my daughter. "And she really liked it."

Not knowing how to respond to such a compliment, I smiled at her, opting to keep my stupid mouth shut. By this time, we were at Ronnie's side. She pretended to ignore us until Sasha jumped in front of us and held up the credit cards. "You gonna shop without these?"

Ronnie stopped to eyeball Sasha, and for a second, I really thought of stepping in to prevent a catfight. Then I remembered the fights I used to have with my friends, and decided they would be better off solving it on their own. 

Sasha held out her right hand. "Pals?"

"You kidding?" my daughter shot back. Then she hugged her. "As long as you keep your big mouth shut." I watched in relief as the two girls kissed - they did peck each other on the lips - and made up. I was stuck with two grinning girls again. I didn't mind it one bit.

With one beautiful girl on either side, hand in hand, I was probably the luckiest guy in the mall - I surely felt like it - and I really enjoyed the envious glances of some of the guys who saw the three of us. Rather than jump into a spending spree, as is the tendency when you have a loose wallet, we did some window-shopping, noting the prospective purchases and bargains. Ronnie and Sasha kept up an endless chatter, often pleasantly arguing about something they saw.

Ronnie, I felt, was holding me harder than Sasha.

Oh, well, I reasoned, it was probably because my hand around her waist was constantly pulling her closer...

"Clothes or perfume?" Sasha asked as we came back to the ground level. Shopping was the next item on the agenda.

"Or jewelry?" added my daughter, looking up at me with those eyes of hers. "We can shop at Victoria's later, can't we?"

"Jewelry," I agreed.

"It's a good idea," Sasha commented, "Seeing as your father is still reeling from the kiss you gave him."

This time around, Ronnie reacted playfully, throwing a light punch at Sasha. Before I knew it, I was SMACK! in the middle of a tickling contest, and within seconds, by some unspoken treaty, the two young women turned on me. Being the stronger one was the only advantage I had; I whipped my hands around, careful not to strike too hard, and tried to counter them.

It became a free-for-all when Ronnie turned on Sasha, an even one-on-one-on-one. I jabbed at their waists, tickling them. Not having engaged in such an activity for years, it took me more than a couple of minutes to get my rhythm, to show them who was boss. There was an empty play-pen nearby, full of those soft ball that little kids are so fond of, and with a roar, I managed to hoist both Ron and Sasha onto my shoulders before flinging them into the enclosure.

Ronnie squealed loudly when I dived in after her, pinning her on her stomach as I attacked the side of her stomach mercilessly. Sasha was by my side in an instant, then double-crossed me - so Ron and I teamed up against Sasha until the latter was so out of breath she couldn't even ask us to leave her alone. 

Ronnie grinned at me, the precursor to a fresh attack now that Sasha had removed herself from the contest. Now that it was just mano-e-mano (or is it mano-e-womano?) I had the upper hand. There was nothing unfair about being able to pin my daughter underneath me, and writhe as she did to throw me off, I was just too powerful. 

I clamped her hands together over her head, freeing one of my arms. Her thrashing legs were of no use to fight me off as I went after her exposed armpits, one of her most ticklish spots. In spite of her frantic struggles, Ronnie was giggling quite uncontrollably, with a spirit that refused to submit to my aggression. 

All that laughter stopped when my hand, in its haste to rush from her flat tummy to her arms, snagged her t-shirt, pulling it up over her tits before I had the presence of mind to jerk my hand away. It was, in a way, too little too late an effort, and her t-shirt wound up around the top of her chest, baring her orbs to my sight.

They had been perfect on TV. They were even better up close and personal.

Her breasts, as wide as my palm, rose significantly from her chest - on one's back does not exactly provide a flattering profile of a woman's chest - those hard nipples pointing right upwards, the same dark color, according to my recollection. They rose and fell, in sync with her shallow breaths, a magnetic sight under any circumstance. Neither of us moved. I didn't want to.

Without knowing it, I smacked my lips hungrily, remembering how she had tasted when we had kissed, wanting to find out how tasty the rest of her was. I could sense her eyes on me, and I glanced up, surprised to see that she had her eyes closed. Her face was slightly upturned, lips a little parted, her struggles entirely ceased, and for one brief instant, I feared she would scream.

Nothing.

She was absolutely motionless except for her breathing, which gave the rise and fall of her breasts a very sexy overtone, and I imagined - later, she told me it was real - that her hands clutched my hand, the one that was holding them down above her head, lest I take my hands away. There was no rejection, no fear that I could feel; instead, there was a lusty charge in the air, an electric quality to everything, a sexiness in our situation.

I forgot Sasha. I forgot my wife. I forgot my daughter. Veronica Mathew, the most beautiful woman in my life, was the only existence in my consciousness. Lovely, sweet, sexy, Ronnie.

My dear daughter Ronnie.

I bent my head, disregarding the few feeble signals of warning, and exhaled on one of her nipples, which was now so close to my face I could have stuck it in my nose, and felt her shudder as the air washed off her smooth skin. My free hand was no by her side, touching her bare skin, feeling little goose bumps spring up, and responded by rubbing her gently.

She gave a small moan of assent, making no effort to move away or at least to cover herself, inviting me to her. My mouth closed around her nipple, generating a shiver across her body that was all the more exciting because it was taboo. How the hell could something so good be so bad, I thought, as I started to run the tip of my tongue over the top of her bud. Her moan was louder now, her heat more obvious. 

I let go of her hands in order to support myself, and her response was to throw her freed limbs around my neck, digging her fingers into my nape. I brushed her other breast with my palm, teasing her nipples as she started to say, "Ooh, Daddy..."

Click. Flash.

That broke our reverie. Sasha, forever the photographer, had probably ruined a once-in-a-lifetime chance for me to... with my own daughter - would I have gone so far as to make love to her, I wondered. It was a question best left to the ether, for there was no doubt that the sudden flash of the camera had brought us back to the plane of reality. I withdrew my face from my daughter's bosom, but neither of us were looking at Sasha.

We were trying to read each other. I could see the disappointment in her eyes, a look of resignation that must have mirrored my own. What was definitely missing was shock or repulsion, two emotions that were actually the farthest from my mind. Given another chance, I would have carried on, but for now, the spell was broken, the magic of the moment lost forever with time.

"Damn," we heard Sasha mutter, "What a time to go out of space! Don't worry, guys, I'll be back in a flash." We felt, rather than see, her get out of the play-pen. 

Without breaking eye-contact, I moved away from my daughter. For a few seconds, she just gazed at me, not bothering to cover herself. I didn't trust myself to look below her neck; she was proving to be too much of a temptation. My daughter was more important than any desire she might prove to be... for our sake, she had to be.

By the time Sasha came back, Ronnie and I had stepped out of the pen, now prim and proper. I was fighting a big urge to tell my daughter exactly how much and, more particularly, HOW I loved her, taking a chance that she might reciprocate, and decide things from that point onwards. In the end, being too much of a coward to risk losing her, I shut myself up.

Perhaps she will agree, a voice within me reasoned, for, after all, she said nothing when you started to kiss her.

But then, came the counter-point, she might have been under the influence of the moment, too distracted or confused to think clearly. Besides, she was just eighteen. And pretty. What chance did I have with her? I had almost two decades and much less hair ahead of her...

"What's the matter, you guys?" Sasha asked, not realizing that she herself was the 'matter.' 

"Nothing," Ronnie answered, attempting a weak smile. 

"Oh, come on, you two were going so beautifully - was it me?" Sasha was not a dumb kid, she had brains that she used. She understood. "...I am so sorry, you guys, I am really so sorry. Damn! I should have just left you alone... Look, why don't I go home and you two can be alone, together... Jeez!" Thinking that her apology wasn't going to be sufficient, she turned around and started to run off.

"Wait a minute, kiddo!" I called after her. She stopped dead in her tracks and faced us, genuinely sorry. "Where do you think you are going?"

"I am sorry, Jack. I should probably leave you two alone -"

"Crap," interrupted my daughter. I didn't correct her language, an instinctive decision that Ronnie knew exactly how to handle everything. "You are not leaving here until we finish shopping."

"But... I mean, I really ruined it for you guys. Look, forget the pictures, okay, I'll destroy them. I was just kidding about the blackmail - you don't have to worry, Jack, Ronnie, just a joke. In fact, I'll get rid of them on the way home... or here, you take them. The camera too."

Poor girl. She was frightened out of her wits that we were mad at her.

"Shut up." There was no mistaking the command in my daughter's voice. "Even if you hadn't made any threats, we would have gone shopping. And Dad's spending for you not because you've got anything on us, but because he likes you and you are my best asshole friend. Get that into your thick skull, Sasha, and come back here. Forget the whole mess."

"Still, I am so sorry..." She was still blaming herself.

"Oh, shut up," both Ronnie and I shouted in unison. Surprised at the coincidence, we looked at each other and burst out laughing. It was contagious, and within moments, Sasha was smiling too.

"Come here, you ass," my daughter invited her friend. The two of them embraced like sisters while I looked on, feeling relieved. Friendship is something to be preserved at all costs; my daughter deserved it, because she earned it. As did Sasha.

"Here, Jack," Sasha offered her camera, "This thing has caused enough trouble already."

A grinning Ronnie snatched it away from her friend's hand. "What are you doing? We're gonna need this in future... you know, for allowance and raises and advances... Dad's a cheapskate." She was joking, and it removed whatever tension was left in the air. All of us had a good laugh. Sasha took back her camera and stuffed it into her bag.

We walked into the first jewelry shop that we came across. It was a pretty decent place, not exactly the kind to cater to leather-clad bikers, but on the day of the Gras, they weren't being choosy. My casual appearance was surveyed until I held up the two credit cards; within seconds, we were ushered in by a liveried salesman.

"What would you like, Sir?"

I shrugged, gesturing to my companions. "Whatever they want."

Even as the man turned towards them, Sasha removed her tank top. It was quite amusing the way her nonchalance contrasted the salesman's flabbergasted expression. Her breasts, I mentally compared, couldn't hold a candle to Ronnie's, but they were firm - as they should be - and in spite of their small size, topped with aureoles and nipples too big to seem cute. Some people go for that, I suppose, and I was prejudiced because I was comparing her to my daughter.

Sasha pointed to her nipples. "Have you got something along the lines of nipple-rings?"

Ronnie nudged her friend in the ribs. "Sasha!" I heard her whispering, "Not in front of Daddy!"

Sasha shot me an amused look as she put her top back on. "Okay, fine," she whispered back, loudly enough for me to hear, "I won't cut in on your dance."

Ronnie ignored her and turned to the silent - shocked - employee. "Forgive my friend. We are looking for some light necklaces, nose-rings... have you got any?"

The man nodded. "Yes, Ma'm, right this way." He turned to me. "Would you like to have something to drink, Sir? A shot of Whiskey, perhaps?"

Ah! No wonder this place was successful. They knew how to treat their customers. "That would be nice..."

"Can we have some too?" Sasha butted in with her query. "Please, Jack... besides, Ronnie needs to loosen up a little."

"Sure," I agreed. Ronnie could do with a glass or two. "A cold glass for me, a couple of pints each for these two. With water."

"Very well, Sir. This way, ladies."

I stretched on the couch, watching the two feminine asses follow one tight-ass into the showroom. Even from behind, my daughter was the cuter one. Maybe one day, I started to dream, I would actually see, feel, maybe even taste, Ronnie and her... 

Before long, though, I was called in for the 'male's view appraisal', a thankless job as far as my experiences of late with my wife taught me. This job, however, promised to be better - the girls were very sweet, going for pretty items that would complement them - not garish designs that even a pimp on a whorehouse district would wear, and before long, we had an assortment of selections. Ronnie looked even cuter with a clip-on nose ring, while Sasha looked great with a pendant necklace.

Then came the process of re-selection, and save for the aforementioned and a couple of other items for each girl, everything else went back on the shelves. Still, as I was told, the amount was under four hundred dollars. The liquor, the same salesman explained, was on the house. Thank God for that!

"So, Sasha," I said as we walked out of the store. "Do you actually - I mean, really - sleep with your father?"

"Of course," she replied with a toss of her head. "You think I made that up?"

"Well, you've got to admit it is out of the ordinary."

"Not in my family. I've got a cousin who's pregnant by my uncle, another who eloped with her own brother, and my mother's two sisters often vanish into the bedroom with my grandfather for hours." She gave a thinking pose. "I have no idea what they do in there... You want to know how it all started, don't you Jack?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "Like I said, it's not your everyday coffee."

"I am actually surprised Ronnie hasn't told you till now, given that she always coos about you being her best pal next to me -"

"When I am asked to keep a secret," my daughter added pointedly, pinching Sasha lightly, "I don't go around revealing it, unlike some people I know."

Sasha giggled. "Okay, okay, point accepted. I won't tell your father that you've got a diary full of your fantasies about him."

"Sasha!"

"Oops!"

Ronnie threw her arms up in a gesture of resignation. "I give up. After tonight, I wonder if there's going to be any secret that you aren't going to reveal."

"Of course," replied a grinning Sasha, and I had this strange feeling that another pearl was about to pop out. "I am definitely NOT going to tell him you've thought about having his kids."

I looked at Ronnie, who had her mouth gaped wide open. "I never told you THAT!" she protested.

"No, but you didn't deny it either."

It was at this point that I decided I should step in to save my daughter from further embarrassment. "So what's wrong with that?" I asked, seeing Ron's surprise out of the corner of my vision, "You told me your own cousin did it!"

"So I exaggerated a little," Sasha admitted with a wry smile. "And you mean to tell me that you wouldn't mind knocking up your own daughter?"

Okay, so it did not go exactly as well as I had planned. Trapped, I attempted weakly, "If she wants it."

"Can I be the Godmother?" Jesus, she was quick! "Please, Ronnie, pretty please?"

"Yeah, okay," Ron agreed - what else could she do? "But I think Dad's more interested in how you and your father came about to have the affair."

For a second, when Sasha said, "I don't think so," I groaned inwardly. This was going nowhere... "But fine! I'll change the subject, if that's what you two want."

Both Ron and I were, to say the least, relieved.

"Actually," Sasha began, turning to me, "It all started last summer. You remember the trip I invited Ron to, but she couldn't make it because she came down with the flu or something?"

"Yeah." I vaguely remembered the time period. Ronnie had been very disappointed when she couldn't go.

"Well, at the last moment, Mom canceled out too, so it was just Dad and I. We almost scrapped the whole thing, but then decided it was a rare chance to spend some quality time together. Besides, I liked the Hills; they are really beautiful that time of the year, and while Dad caught up on some fishing, I could do with some much-needed tanning. Seemed like the perfect idea.

"And, of course, no Mom to put any restrictions. Over the last few months, Dad and I had started to flirt with each other a lot more, and I really enjoyed his advances. He never did anything until that summer, except for the occasional feel or peek, and I admit I let him have plenty of those. So anyway, there we were, alone, and without Mom to censor my wardrobe, it was the perfect time to try out my tiniest bikinis.

"With Mom around, it would have been impossible. With only Dad, I knew he wouldn't mind even if I walked around in the nude.

"Which is exactly what happened...

"Dad was getting down for some fishing, and I settled a few feet behind him. All I had on was a tiny - and I do mean tiny - top and thong, and when Dad whipped his rod to let his bait fly, it caught me." She made a fast throwing action. "Voila! Before I knew it, my top had landed in the water, and Dad was staring at me.

"I was too stunned to do anything. I just sat there, breasts exposed, ogled by my own father, without any goddam idea what had happened. Then Dad burst out laughing... then I started to think the whole thing was funny... I remember Dad saying that I needed to get rid of my tan-lines. I agreed with him. Then he offered to rub some oil on me. I agreed. He was a little rough at first, out of practice he told me, but quickly picked up, and I asked him if he could make it an all-over massage.




At The Grindhouse



After eight years of marriage, Tara and I needed something to spice up our sex lives. My wife is very attractive, with a fine body. She is tall, leggy with long black hair and a large, firm pair of breasts. She certainly looks sexy but somehow things had become a little routine in the bed department. I knew that Tara was no prude so I decided that hiring some porno videos might be a good start. As it turned out, it was the beginning of something I would never have dreamed of.

One evening while we were watching a video of a cheerleader being gangbanged by a high school football team, I mentioned to my wife that the film was so old that I had actually seen the movie before at a porno theatre when I was a teenager. I don't think that I had ever talked with her about my going to watch porno movies and she seemed very interested. She asked me which theatre I had gone to, and if anything unusual ever happened there.

"Like what?" I asked.

"I don't know. Did women ever go there?"

"Women? No. None. Not when I was there anyway. It used to be full of older men and a few teenagers mainly. I used to always sit near the front because I didn't want to watch some old guy jerking off. They would always sit in the back rows and do it openly."

"Yeah, I know."

"You know, do you?" I laughed. "I suppose you've been to places like that."

"I have actually," she replied but I was sure she was joking.

"And when was this then?"

"Years ago. I was still at school."

"Oh yeah, right. They just let some schoolgirl go in on her own to a place like that."

"I wasn't on my own. I was with Jane. We were both underage but they couldn't care less."

Suddenly I wasn't so sure that Tara was joking. Jane was an old friend of hers that I had met several times. The woman was a complete slut. The first time I met her was at a party. She had sex with two different men in the toilets on the same night, neither of whom she had met before the party. 

"Why did you go there then?" I asked my wife.

"Why'd you think? We wanted to see a porno film. Well, we were both a little bit stoned and as we were walking past the theatre Jane dared us both to go in. It was a movie called 'Horny Housewives' or something like that."

"What was it like?"

"Well, the first thing I saw when we walked in...I think the film had just started...there was a blonde woman...she had massive tits...she was in the kitchen of a house, dressed in a see-through night dress. There was a man in there too, wearing overalls. I guess it was some kind of workman meeting the lonely housewife scenario. Jane and I stood by the entrance watching it for a while. The man started feeling up the housewife's tits and then he bent her over the kitchen table. Then he pulled off his overalls and took out his cock. God, I remember I was really shocked when I saw it."

"Hadn't you seen one before?" I asked.

"Well, yeah I had, but only one or two, and neither of them had been that big. Actually I was still a virgin. I'd fooled around a bit, you know, with a couple of guys. I had given my boyfriend a hand job before but that was about it."

"So what did you think when you saw it?"

"Oh God, I just felt...I had this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was really excited, but kind of scared too. Then I noticed that the theatre was full of men. There were no women at all. I grabbed Jane's arm and told her that I wanted to leave, but she just laughed. Then she...I don't know...I probably shouldn't tell you...I've never told anyone before..."

"Hey, don't stop now," I said. "You can tell me."

"Okay, but I just want you to know, it wasn't my fault. I don't want you to think that I used to be some kind of slut."

"Don't worry about it. Anyway, this was all years ago, before we met. Go on. Tell me what happened," I encouraged her. 

"Well, Jane...she told me to follow her and that we should sit in the back row. There were plenty of empty seats nearer the front. Most of the men were sitting at the back. I could see there were only two empty seats towards the end of the back row, but it would mean that we would both have to sit next to a man. I started telling her that I wasn't going to sit there...that if we stayed then we should sit near the front. She just said that it was up to me, but that if I was a good friend then I wouldn't make her sit on her own. Then she walked over to the back row and began making her way down.

"I didn't know what else to do so I followed her. There wasn't much room between each row of seats and all the men in the back row had to stand up to let us by. We had to squeeze through them all. I turned my back to them as we went past. I didn't want them to see my face. They were pressing up against us. I could feel them, their cocks against my ass. They all seemed to have erections. One or two of them made comments, asking us to sit on their laps, telling us that we were really sexy, that kind of thing. 

"I saw one of the guys ahead of me lift up Jane's skirt as she went by him. They were all looking at her panties. Oh God, that's when I got really scared. I wanted to go back. For a few moments I was just stuck there in the middle of the row, not sure which way to turn. One of the men was pressing his body against me, pushing me against the back of the seat in the next row. I kept trying to squeeze past and he just started gyrating his hips, jamming his cock deeper into my ass. I had to reach behind me with my hand to get him off. I could feel his cock through his jeans...it was rock hard...it felt really big too."

Tara suddenly reached out and placed her hand on my groin, rubbing my cock, which was already hard. Both of us had lost interest in the movie on the television screen. Tara was obviously getting very aroused as she told the story. I imagined her picturing what had happened, reliving the sensations. Her nipples were erect now, poking through her T-shirt.

"Eventually I got away from him and I moved towards the last empty seat. Jane was already sitting down and I could see her watching me. The guy who had lifted up her skirt tried the same thing on me but I grabbed the hem and held on tightly and he gave up. When I finally sat down I closed my eyes for a few seconds. My heart was beating really fast. I could feel that my panties were all wet. Oh Tony, it was so exciting.

"When I opened my eyes again I tried to concentrate on the film, but I could sense that the man next to me was staring at me. I sort of looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He kept looking me up and down, staring at my face, my tits, my legs. He had a jacket resting on his lap and I could see this movement underneath. He must have been rubbing his cock. I don't know how old he was, maybe about forty, but the way he looked at me, it just felt so dirty, you know? Dirty but really exciting.

"I looked back at the movie screen just as the workman pulled his cock out of the housewife's pussy and came all over her night dress. For a minute I thought it might be the end of the film but then there was a scene with the woman and her husband talking alone. I didn't really get what was going on. It must have been some Scandinavian film or something and it was really badly dubbed. Jane whispered to me that the man next to her kept brushing his hand against her thigh so I told her that we should leave now, but she wouldn't. She told me she was enjoying it. Then she said how much she liked the way all the men had rubbed up against her when we made our way past them.

"I couldn't believe she was so brazen about it. I knew she wasn't a virgin like me. She always told me whenever she had sex with a new man, and that happened quite often, but now I thought she must be a nymphomaniac or something. Then she said that she was going to go to the toilet and see if they would rub up against her again. I almost screamed. I grabbed hold of her arm and begged her not to leave me there, but she just ignored me. Then she stood up and made her way along the row again.

"This time she was facing them as she went past and I could see that she was smiling at them, encouraging them. They each stood up in turn as she moved along, all of them pressing themselves against her pussy. One of them even reached out a hand and squeezed one of her tits and she just smiled at him.

"As soon as she was gone I tried to ignore the stares I was getting and just watch the film. By now there was another scene with the housewife and two more workmen. She had opened the front door wearing only a towel and when they came in she let it drop to the floor so that she was naked and then the two men grab her and kiss her and start sucking her tits. Then they push her onto the sofa and start screwing her. She had one cock in her mouth, one in her cunt... God, it's funny. I remember the film as if I'd seen it only yesterday. 

"So anyway, I'm sort of keeping my head down, just watching the film, when suddenly I feel a hand on my leg. It's the guy next to me. I didn't know what to do. I probably should have brushed his hand away but I didn't want him to get angry, so I pretended that I didn't notice. I thought he might stop if he thought I wasn't interested."

"He didn't stop though, did he?" I interrupted. I was becoming incredibly excited hearing about all this. I could picture it in my mind, watching my wife being groped by a complete stranger.

"No. He didn't stop. He began pulling at the hem of my skirt, lifting it higher up my thighs. Then he pushed his hand up between my legs until he could feel my panties. I should have pushed his hand away but I was...I don't know...just sort of numb. I felt ashamed because my panties were so wet and I knew that he would know that I was a bad girl... a dirty girl... a little slut."

While she had been speaking I was gently stroking her thigh. Now I moved my hand high up her skirt and felt between her legs.

"Were your panties as wet then as they are now?" I asked.

Tara nodded then leaned forward to pull her underwear down to her ankles. I knew what she wanted and I began to rub my finger along her clit. She moaned softly then carried on with her story.

"Oh Tony. That's it. Mmm. He was touching me, right there. I was looking around to see if anyone could see what he was doing to me but I don't think they noticed. Then he managed to get one of his fingers inside the elastic of my panties. I was so wet down there. His finger was slipping and sliding along my pussy. Oh Tony, I felt so horny. Then he...oh God...then he put his other hand on my breast...my nipples were hard and his fingers were rubbing against it."

"Like this?" I asked as I began to feel her tits.

"Yes, baby...that's it...like that...ooooh...he unbuttoned my blouse...the top two buttons and he reached inside and got his hand inside my bra...he was playing with my nipples...you know the way I like it...like that, yes...he still had a finger in my panties and he found my...he stuck his finger in my cunt...ohhh...he was fingering me, pushing it in and out, and then he leaned forward and he put his mouth on one of my tits and he started sucking it and...oooooh...I came...right there...with all those men around..."

Tara suddenly broke off as her body trembled in orgasm, bearing down on my fingers rubbing against her clit.

"What happened then?" I asked, my voice heavy with excitement.

Tara smiled at me as she caught her breath. Then she put her hand back on my lap and pulled on the zip of my fly to release my erection. She began to run her fingers up and down the shaft.

"He grabbed my hand and put it on his lap, underneath his jacket. His cock was out of his jeans and it was all hard."

"You touched his cock?"

"Yeah," she gave me a teasing grin. "Well, he'd just got me off, so I guess it was only fair that I should do the same for him. My boyfriend had told me that I was really good at giving hand jobs. I did it like this. Do you like that? I know he did. He spurted his sticky cum all over my fingers after just a few seconds."

I couldn't take any more of this. I roughly pulled Tara's hand away from my cock and pulled her down so that she was lying flat out on the sofa before me. I spread her legs apart and jammed my cock deep inside her wet pussy, thrusting hard and fast, knowing I was going to cum at any second.

"Oh, yeah, Tony. Fuck me. Do it to me, baby."

"What happened next?" I asked through gritted teeth as I pummelled into her.

"They'd seen me. Seen what I did. I saw them all looking at me, at my sticky hands all covered in cum."

"What did they do?"

"What do you think they did?"

"I don't know. Tell me."

"Do you think I let one of the men there fuck me?"

"Yes."

"You think I let them take my virginity."

"Yes. Yes. You let them fuck you, didn't you?" I said as I speeded up my thrusts.

"Yes. They fucked me. They fucked my virgin pussy. One after the other. All of them. They all fucked me...and I loved it...I loved having all these strangers fucking me..."

That was it for me. I shot my load deep inside her, gripping her by the hips as I flooded her pussy with my cum. When I had finished I collapsed on top of her, completely sated. I looked into her eyes in wonder and awe. I had never known she could be like that, such a slut. It was amazing.

"How many?" I asked when I got my breath back. "How many of them fucked you?"

"None of them fucked me. Not really. I only said that because I knew it was turning you on."

"What did happen then?"

"Nothing much. The guy next to me left as soon as I had jerked him off. I don't think anybody saw what I had done...what we had done. Then Jane came back. She told me that she had got so horny from those men groping her that she had to masturbate in the toilet. I knew she was trying to shock me. I didn't let her know what happened to me while she was gone. I never told her. I never told anyone, before now. 

"We went back to watching the film. I could see Jane brushing away the hand of the man sitting next to her. He was groping her thighs like before, but she didn't seem to like it now. I kind of got the impression that she only dragged us along to the place to see what my reaction would be. She was always doing things like that, especially with less experienced girls. Anyway, after a while we left."

"Did they all grope you again when you walked past them?"

"Yeah. Jane was in front of me and she was pushing the men off her, but I didn't."

"No? You let them all touch you?"

"Yeah, well, they were only feeling up my ass and my tits a little. After what I had just let happen it didn't seem to matter anymore."

"Jesus," I exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me about all this before?"

"I don't know. I guess I was worried about how you would feel about it. In case you thought I was some kind of filthy slut or something, but it turned you on, didn't it?"

"Oh God, yeah. It was much better than watching some video."

Tara turned me on my back and bent over me, taking my limp cock in her mouth. She began sucking on it. Within seconds I felt the blood rush back, causing another erection.

"Mmm, you're right. It was much better than a video, wasn't it?"

We spent the rest of the night fucking like rabbits. For the next few months it was the same story. I just had to think about what Tara had told me and I would get instantly erect and want to fuck her as soon as possible. She often retold the story with different variations while we made love. Every time I came inside her I would picture her being groped by complete strangers. It was becoming an obsession. Soon I began imagining what it would be like to actually see it happen, to watch her behaving like a slut in a crowded theatre.

A few months after that night my wife and I went to a restaurant in Soho for a meal. It was my birthday and Tara had made a big effort with her appearance. She wore a short, tight fitting, low cut backless dress. She looked amazing, especially in her stiletto heels. During the meal we both drank copious amounts of wine. When we left the restaurant we walked through the red light district heading for a taxi rank. As we passed an adult movie theatre, I mentioned to her that it was the one I had visited as a teenager.

"Yeah? Hey, wait a minute," she grinned at me. "You've brought us here deliberately, haven't you? You want us to go inside."

"No, no, not at all. I never even..."

"You want a little birthday treat, is that it? Seeing what might happen if I'm in there...probably the only woman among all those men. You're very naughty," she said, wagging a finger at me.

The thought hadn't even occurred to me, but now images flooded through my mind, images of my wife being groped by a bunch of strangers. I felt my cock harden. I knew that Tara was fairly drunk and she was most likely just teasing me but I figured that there was no harm in asking her, especially if she already thought I had planned it all along.

"Yeah, well. Like you said. It is my birthday," I smiled at her.

"Okay then. Let's go," she said. She didn't need any encouragement at all. It was then that I realised that she wanted us to go in as much as I did. Maybe more. 

I didn't catch the name of the movie on the poster out front. I only checked that it wasn't a gay porno film. There wouldn't be much point coming inside if all the patrons were more interested in men than women. I paid the man in the lobby for two seats and Tara and I walked up the stairs towards the screening room. Just as we reached the doors I pulled my wife to one side, next to the toilets.

"Listen. I'll go in first and sit somewhere near the back row. You follow behind later."

"Why?"

"I want to see you make your way past the men...to see if they touch you."

"Okay. God, I'm really excited. Aren't you? I can't believe we're actually doing this," Tara smiled then kissed me passionately.

"Maybe we should set up some ground rules or something," I said nervously.

"You're not backing out are you?"

"No, no. I just...how far are you going to go?"

"I don't know. I guess that might depend on other people."

"But what if things go too far? What if someone tries to rape you or something?"

"I don't know. Do you think they would?"

"Well, I don't know what they're like in there. Look, if things are getting out of hand you say something and I'll get us out of there. Okay?"

"All right. Are you ready?"

"I guess so. And you?"

"Yeah...wait...I was thinking...what if I do this?"

Tara reached her hands down to the hem of her dress and lifted it up until her stocking tops were showing. The dress was so tight that the hem stayed in position, just about covering the cheeks of her ass. She winked at me and gave my cock a quick rub then pushed me towards the door. I took a deep breath and walked inside, anticipation welling up inside me.

There was no light in the theatre except that coming from the screen. The movie seemed to be some kind of orgy -- a bevy of young women being fucked by various men. I looked at the back rows. They were fairly crowded on both sides. I noticed that there were two free seats near the end of the row on the right hand side. I made my way across. The men sitting down grumbled as they moved their feet to let me pass. As soon as I was sat down I looked around at the other patrons. As expected, there were no women in the theatre, just a bunch of horny guys. Nobody had their cocks out to jerk off although I noticed that one or two seemed to be rubbing themselves through their pockets.

A few moments later I caught sight of Tara. She was checking the back few rows. Eventually she saw me and came towards the row I was sitting in. To my disappointment none of the men stood up to grope her as she passed them. They simply moved their feet to one side and let her through. It was obvious that she made an impression on them nevertheless, as I saw that their eyes were all fixed on her as she made her way towards me. That was no surprise at all as she looked very slutty, with the tops of her stockings showing.




At The Grindhouse



"Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked me when she reached the vacant seat beside me.

"No. Go ahead," I replied.

I hadn't realised that she was going to pretend not to know me, but I went along with it anyway. For a couple of minutes she sat quietly watching the film then she began to touch herself on the breast, her thumb making circular movements around her nipple. She began to make soft moaning noises, whether to get people's attention or because she couldn't help herself I didn't know. 

I noticed the man sitting on the other side of her to me. He was looking straight at her, ignoring the film completely. After she began touching herself he placed his hand down on her thigh and began to squeeze it gently. I felt my heart beating faster, knowing that I was about to see what I had fantasised about for so long. The man's hand edged up over the top of her stockings, onto the gap between there and the hem of her dress. A creamy white expanse of flesh was visible. It was incredibly erotic. His hand moved higher still, reaching between her legs. Tara gasped suddenly and I knew that his hand had reached her panties. Still she made no move to stop him.

My cock was now fully erect, bursting to get out of the confines of my underwear. I could see that Tara was very aroused also. Her nipples were hard, pointing out from the silky material of her dress. Her breathing was low and heavy and she continued to rub her hand against one of her breasts. Suddenly her other hand shot out and landed in my lap. She grabbed hold of my cock and began pressing it, feeling its hardness. 

The man with his hand between my wife's legs leaned over and saw what she was doing to me. As far as he was concerned I was a complete stranger to her, just like him. He must have thought that she was some kind of cock hungry slut. He turned his body round to face her directly, not bothering to grope her furtively any more. As he groped Tara's pussy with one hand he reached up and began squeezing her tits with the other. I watched spellbound as my wife spread her legs wide apart, encouraging him to go further. Seconds later he leant forward and pulled her dress up about her hips then grabbed her panties and pulled them halfway down her thighs. Tara lifted her ass a little from the seat to help him. 

There was no question now that she was definitely game for more. The man's hand dived back between her legs. Tara gasped again and I knew that he had stuck one or more of his fingers inside her wet pussy. She began to rock her body against his hand, pressing down on it, allowing him to go deeper inside her. She looked over towards me, with her mouth open and her breathing heavy. Then she unzipped my fly and took out my hard cock. I quickly glanced beside me at the two men sat on the other side. They were both watching avidly as her hand stroked my shaft.

The man beside Tara pulled on one of the straps of her dress, dragging it down. Then he reached behind her to pull down the other one and tugged the dress down to her waist, exposing her tits for us all to see. He immediately leaned forward and pressed his mouth against her breast. I watched with tremendous excitement as he sucked my wife's tits while she fisted my cock. It wasn't long before the men in the row in front of us became aware of what was happening. They all turned their heads to look back at us, to watch this half naked slut fooling around with two men at the same time.

I noticed that Tara's breathing was becoming shorter and shorter as she rocked her body faster against the man's hand and it wasn't long before she was moaning in orgasm. When she had finished she leaned back in her chair and smiled at me, her hand still resting on my cock. I was about to tell her that we should leave when she suddenly pulled herself away from the man who had been fingering her and knelt down in front of me to take my cock in her mouth.

She was in a sexual frenzy and there was no way I could have stopped her even if I wanted to. She took me deep in her throat as she ran her hand up and down my shaft. By now all the men near us had taken their own cocks out and were jerking off. I could feel myself about to cum when Tara suddenly released my cock from her mouth and stood up. Her panties were still hanging down around her knees but now she pulled them off. Before I could say or do anything she had turned her back to me and slowly eased herself down on my cock until it was inside her pussy all the way to the hilt. She gripped the arms of the chair as she began to move her ass up and down, riding my cock. 

"Yeah. Come on. Fuck me," she ordered.

"Oh God," I whispered. "You're so fucking sexy."

Two of the men in the row in front of us leaned across and felt up my wife's tits, squeezing them as they jiggled around. 

"Yeah. Feel my tits. Go on."

It was incredible, seeing and hearing my wife behaving like such a slut. Within seconds I shot my load deep inside her, cumming with a force I had never known before. Tara stayed where she was until my dick went completely limp then she stood up and leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"I want more," she said.

I looked down at my flaccid cock then at my wife's almost naked body and I knew it would be hard again soon.

"Wait a minute," I said.

"No. I can't wait."

Before I could stop her she had moved sideways, positioning herself in front of the man who had fingered her and sucked her tits a few minutes before. He still had his cock in his hands. He grinned at her and nodded, gripping her by the hips as he helped her ease down on to his lap, feeding his cock inside her dripping wet cunt.

"Ooooh yeah," she moaned. "You've got a lovely big cock."

The men surrounding her all reached out to grope her tits while she bounced up and down on a complete stranger's cock. I was hard again instantly. I hadn't expected things to go this far but I was very glad they had. I had never felt so excited in all my life.

Tara fucked him with incredible energy and excitement, forcing him to cum inside her after only a couple of minutes. She still wasn't satisfied though. She moved along the line to the next man and sat on his cock and fucked him too, moaning and hollering and making sure that everyone nearby knew what a cock hungry slut she was. She then stood up and moved along to the next guy who didn't seem to want her to sit on his cock.

"What's the matter?" she asked in a sultry voice. "Don't you want to fuck me? Don't you want to feel your cock inside my pussy?"

"No," he said forcefully. "I want it in your ass."

Before she could stop him he bent her over the seat in front and lined his cock up between the cheeks of her ass. Tara screamed when she felt him jam it in her asshole. I was about to come over and try to stop it when she suddenly began to moan.

"Oh yes. Oh God... Fuck my ass. Do it... Ooooh. Fuck me in the ass... Go on. Treat me like a whore...a filthy little whore."

She kept up this litany of obscenities until one of the men in the row in front of her suddenly pushed his massive cock in her face. She gripped it with one hand and brought it to her lips, licking the head for a while then taking it in her throat, sucking on it deep and hard while she was getting a good ass fucking from behind. The other men in the row all crowded round to get a better view as they jerked off in front of her. I began to jerk off myself as I listened to her muffled moans. Before long she pulled her head back and a spray of cum shot out over her lips, dribbling down her chin to land on her tits. 

"Oooh, come on. Another one. I want more cock to suck."

The man nearest to her shoved his dick in her face and she worked her mouth around it. She gagged once or twice as the man who was roughly fucking her ass from behind pushed her forward. Other men continued to jerk off in front of her. I watched mesmerized as they came on her face, her shoulders and her tits. She was covered in it. As soon as one man had cum, another took his place. 

"Oh God. Oh yes. Yes. Ohhhhh!" Tara moaned in orgasm as the man fucking her ass speeded up his thrusts.

Suddenly he groaned as he gripped her by the hips and shoved his cock inside her ass as far as it would go while he shot his load inside her. She screamed with pleasure as two men in front of her jerked off into her mouth. The man who had ass fucked her put his limp cock away and headed for the exit. I could see that Tara was satisfied now but if we stayed any longer we could be here all night with my wife servicing dozens of men.

While a couple of guys argued over who would have her next I rushed forward and dragged her towards the exit. I brushed aside the men who tried to stop us and we quickly ran out the exit, through the lobby and out into the street. Tara readjusted her dress as we ran. We managed to flag down a passing cab just outside the cinema and we climbed in the back seat. I turned to my wife to see her eyes for the first time since it had all started. They were as black as coals, fiery and excited. She leaned back, her dress riding up to show her bare pussy. We looked at each other in silence for a few moments then we kissed passionately.

"Well?" she grinned at me. "How'd you like your birthday treat then?"

"I loved it."

"Did you enjoy the film?"

"Ha. Well, I didn't really see too much of it."

"No. Neither did I. I reckon we'll have to go back sometime and watch it again. What do you think?"

I looked at her. Her dress, all covered in cum, her stockings laddered, her bare pussy on display. I thought of all the men who had cum in her mouth and her cunt and her ass.

"Yeah," I said. "Let's do it."