16 comments/ 43024 views/ 35 favorites Tom Drake's Descent Into Damnation By: blaster666 Normally I don't like reading stories that are more than a few pages. This one ended up being longer than I expected, so for the people like me I apologize if it is too long. I do hope you will read it and enjoy it. Please feel free to leave comments and feedback. The shaggy looking young man leaned against the side of the doorway leading into the rundown looking apartment building, carefully eyeing each person heading in his direction. Arthur Bowen, his friends called him Mutt because of his unruly brown hair, fidgeted from one foot to the other one as he surveyed his surroundings. It was six-thirty in the afternoon and he needed to score some cash. He figured the people living in this dump would be easy pickings. The monkey on his back made him antsy while the switchblade knife in his palm made him feel powerful. Most of the people in the area were elderly, but there were a few that looked as if they could have some money. Not a fortune, he surmised, but surely enough to fix him right up for the rest of the day. His eyes focused on the man coming his way. The approaching man spotted Arthur way before he reached the stoop to his building. Another piece of trash he thought to himself. It seemed to him that there was an abundant supply of scum in the city. His sharp gray eyes watched the shaggy guy intently as he drew closer to the stoop. That's right old man; just a little closer Arthur chuckled under his breath. His streetwise eyes took all of the man in. The closer the man got, the more Arthur realized that he wasn't as old as he'd first thought. The man was wearing work boots and faded jeans with a black t-shirt almost covered by the threadbare trench coat hanging off his slumping shoulders. He also walked with a slight limp. The man's salt and pepper hair was short under the black ball cap that sat upon his head. With the baggy long coat on it was hard to tell if the man was in good or bad shape. He guessed the man to be about six-foot tall; just a shade under his own six-foot two-inch frame. Yep, easy pickings Arthur told himself as he stood up and approached the man as he reached the stoop. "Spare a smoke," Arthur asked as he blocked the man's path. The man stopped and gazed at Arthur's face before saying, "Don't smoke." "Then how about just giving me your wallet and I'll go buy some," Arthur barked, as he brandished the knife in plain sight. "How about you lick the shit out of my ass instead," the man said calmly. "What the fuck! Give me your fucking money motherfucker," Arthur yelled as he stepped closer to the man. The man had an evil looking smile on his face as he said, "Not today dickhead." There was something in the man's eyes that sent a chill of fear down Arthur's spine, but the monkey on his back wouldn't be denied. He lunged forward with the knife pointed at the man's mid-riff. He heard the clatter of the knife hitting the concrete before he felt the pain shooting up his arm. He had just enough time to look at his shattered wrist before the toe of the man's work boot crushed his balls. Screaming and retching at the same time he doubled over and fell to the ground. Going in and out of consciousness he felt someone shaking his shoulder. Bleary-eyed he managed to look up at the man squatting next to him. "Hey butt wad, can you hear me?" "Huh?" Arthur wasn't sure where the question was coming from until the man shook him again. "Can you hear me," the man calmly asked once more. "Yeah, I hear you man," Arthur stammered between the pain. "Good, because I'm only going to say this once. Stay the fuck out of this neighborhood." "Whatever you say mister," Arthur sputtered, groaning as the man helped him to his feet. "Just so we're clear. If I see you around here again I won't be as gentle as I was this time." Tom Drake watched the shaggy guy painfully shuffle off down the sidewalk until he reached the end of the block and disappeared around the corner. Unknown to Tom, Miranda Waters had watched the whole scene play out from her second floor window. A shiver ran down her spine and she became aware of the dampness in her panties as she watched her neighbor turn and enter the building. "For Christ sake Miranda, get a grip girl. He's old enough to be your father," she rebuked herself. Unfortunately, older guys were Miranda's weakness. Growing up not knowing who, or where her father was, had caused her to seek out the company of mature men. Now at twenty-three years old and being a registered nurse, she was sure she had daddy issues. All her friends kidded her when they went out clubbing and Miranda flirted with the older men. Her friends called her the geezer getter. To them anyone over thirty was well passed their prime and were to be avoided at all cost. She had a different take on older guys. She found them more sensitive and caring, and a hell-of-a-lot more appreciative of her than guys her own age. She owed her nursing career to the generosity of an older man. He had put her through school, fed and clothed her and paid her rent. All she had had to do was let him push his tiny penis into her a couple times a month. It had been a sad day when he had passed away a little over a year and a half ago. Tom Drake entered the run-down looking building through the heavy glass door after using his key to unlock it. On the outside the building was as shabby as the rest of the block. The entire block's ground floor was comprised of small shops, a mom and pop grocery store, a couple of stores selling cheap knock-offs and at the end of the block a neighborhood bar. On the second and third floors the owners had transferred the space into nice one and two bedroom walk-up apartments. There were four apartments per floor. Unfortunately for Tom, his was on the third floor. By the time he reached the second floor his bad knee was giving him fits. He stopped just at the top of the stairs and bent over to rubbed the stiffness. The sound of a door opening made him look to his left. "Are you alright Tom," Miranda asked, concern written on her face. Tom stood up and studied the girl. She was wearing a pale blue floor length robe with one hand clutching the upper half closed. He guessed her height to be somewhere around five-eight, and she couldn't have weighed more than one-thirty. She had piercing blue eyes and thick, waist length, straight ebony hair. As with most people in the city she had a pale complexion, but when she smiled her whole face lit up. Her full lips spread in a smile as she watched him study her. Her smile was infectious and he couldn't help but smile back. "Yeah, I'm fine Miranda. Knees acting up is all," he muttered while drinking in her beauty. "That's what happens when you kick someone in the balls," she snickered. "Oh, you saw that huh?" "Yeah." "Sorry about that," Tom apologized. "Wait here a minute," Miranda said before retreating back into her apartment. She returned holding a tube of some sort of ointment in her hand, along with her keys. After locking her door she handed Tom the tube and took his elbow in her hand saying, "Let's get you upstairs and I'll put this on your knee." When he tried to protest she told him to shush and guided him toward the stairs. He could walk on his own, easily, but the feel of her closeness and the sweet aroma floating off of her made him give in to her demands. As they climbed the stairs Tom thought back to the encounters he'd had with her. They had talked several times in the six weeks that he had been living here. Mostly when each went down to check their mail, or when they passed in the stairwell. They had even drank a few beers together at the local bar. It seemed to Tom that she must have seen him going into the bar on those occasions, because each time he had just gotten seated when she showed up. He wasn't much of a talker, but he had enjoyed her company. They reached his door and she helped him inside where he took off the cap and trench coat and placed them on the coffee table. Her first impression of the place was that it lacked any personal touches. There were no photographs of loved ones anywhere, and the only things hanging on the walls were framed certificates. There was one large framed panel that appeared to hold a rather big collection of military ribbons. On closer inspection she noticed that all the framed certificates were from the military also. She realized that she had told him her life's story in the bar those couple times, but he hadn't really told her anything about his. "You were in the service I take it," she stated the obvious. "Yeah," he replied as he plopped down on an overstuffed brown sofa near the front window. "So, how long were you in? Judging by the dates on these certificates, I'd say a long time," Miranda commented while gazing at them. "When I look back on it, it seems like forever." Turning to face him she said, "And how long is forever?" "Twenty-seven years," he replied returning her gaze. "You can't be old enough to have served that long, can you?" "I'm forty-six. I joined when I was nineteen." "Wow! Except for the salt and pepper hair, you don't look a day older than forty," she chuckled. She was actually impressed. His face was lined somewhat, but his body didn't seem to have an ounce of fat on it from what she could tell. His eyes were bright and held the glint of intelligence. The dampness returned to her panties. Picking up the tube of ointment where he'd laid it on the coffee table, she sat next to him and told him to remove his pants. His eyes grew wide and he said, "Excuse me?" "Tom, I'm a nurse, you don't have anything I haven't seen before," she stated, then added, "I can't put this on over your clothes." He thought about it for a minute then unlaced his boots and kicked them off. Hesitantly he stood and started to undo his pants. He could see she was amused by his shyness. Pushing his pants down past his knees he sat back down and removed them the rest of the way. He felt funny sitting there in just a t-shirt and tight boxer-briefs. He preferred the snugness of the brief style boxers for their comfort and support over the conventional baggy boxers. He heard her sharp intake of breath when the jagged scar that ran down over his knee was visible. She could tell that it wasn't that old of an injury. "This happen in the service," she asked, running her fingertip lightly over the pinkish flesh. "Yep. Ended my career. I was shooting for thirty years, but shit happens." "The certificates are all from the Department of the Navy. What did you do, fall down a flight of stairs onboard a ship," she asked half heartedly, still entranced by the jagged scar. "Booby trap," came his reluctant answer. "Booby trap? Just what did you do in the Navy," she asked, finally looking up into his eyes. "Things that no one else wanted to do. Can we leave it at that?" "Sure," she replied as she uncapped the ointment. Pushing the coffee table out of the way, she sank to her knees in front of him and began rubbing in the ointment. He flinched slightly at her first contact with his skin but settled down quickly. She was acutely aware of the bulge in the front of his underwear. She was also aware that in her position the top of her robe was opened enough to give him more than just glimpses of her naked breasts. She was sure he had noticed when his cock started to expand in the tight confines of the briefs. The dampness in her panties was spreading. Tom watched her hands apply the ointment until he noticed her robe opening wider. He couldn't help but look. Nestled inside the fabric, and looking quite firm, were two of the finest looking globes he'd ever seen. The angle wasn't good enough to see her nipples, but he could tell that her breasts had to be in the 36C range. His cock began to show its appreciation for the view, making him very uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her to think he was some sort of pervert. Miranda was growing bolder in her manipulations, running her hands higher on Tom's thigh than necessary. She wasn't sure how he felt, although the growing bulge in his boxer-briefs should have been a good indication, but the dampness in her panties was threatening to become a flood. "That should do it, don't you think," Tom grunted, taking her hands in his to stop them from going any higher. "Oh. Uh... sure. Help me up," she whispered. Without thinking, Tom stood up in front of her and reached down to help her to her feet. At first he was unaware that his expanded cock was readily outlined in the cotton fabric of his briefs and was stretching down toward the leg opening. When he had sat down the leg of his underwear had ridden up, and now that he was standing the tip of his cock was just peeking out the leg opening enough for Miranda to get a decent look at it. Miranda's gaze was on Tom's crotch as he stood and she saw the outline of his cock in his shorts. When the tip of his cock popped out of the leg opening she swore she orgasmed slightly at the sight of its bulbous head mere centimeters from her face. The urge to reach up and run her fingers over it was almost overpowering. Unfortunately or fortunately, she wasn't sure which one she wanted, Tom was faster than she thought a man could be. He pushed his cock back up into his shorts in a split second, but not before she got a good look at it. She was amazed at how beautiful it was. Judging by the shape of the outline it had to be close to seven inches long and fairly thick. "I'm so sorry Miranda," Tom repeated profusely as he helped her to her feet. "Don't worry about it. Shit happens," she chuckled, as she stood in front of him watching his face turn all sorts of red. Quickly scooping up his pants and struggling into them he couldn't help but chuckle himself. Miranda capped the ointment, placed it on the table then started for the door. Halfway there she turned and smiled at him. "I guess I haven't seen it all before," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "Oh God," Tom said bowing his head in embarrassment. Laughing Miranda turned back to the door. Just as she opened it Tom called out to her. "Miranda..." "Yes Tom," she replied, half in and half out of the door. "Would you at least let me buy you dinner for your help?" "I would like that. How about this Friday?" "Sounds good. I'll come down and get you around seven." "Seven it is," and with that she was gone. As soon as the door shut behind her, Tom wasted no time dropping his pants and sitting back on the sofa. With practiced hand he began stroking his still hard cock while visions of Miranda's breasts danced in his head. No, he wasn't a pervert he told himself as his hand moved faster up and down his shaft. He was just a man who needed release. And release came quicker than he expected, sending jets of hot cum up and out of his throbbing manhood, only to make a mess on the floor. Just about the time Tom's spunk was hitting his floor, Miranda had two fingers stuffed inside her furry pussy seeking to bring release to her quivering cunt. The fingers dug into her opening while the palm of her hand raked across her engorged clit sending jolts of pleasure along her nervous system. With her other hand she reached up and pinched her stiff nipples, giving each turns as she neared her climax. With visions of Tom's blood-filled cock in her head she began to shudder. Faster and faster she plunged her fingers into herself until she crested the peak of her intense orgasm and plunged over the cliff of pure pleasure. Wave after wave of shudders racked her body as a gush of pussy cream trickled out and ran down between her butt cheeks. Totally spent she lay on her bed and let the feelings of euphoria wash over her. Her sleep was filled with erotic dreams of Tom making passionate love to her in every conceivable position. Friday took forever to arrive. Tom spent his days thinking, and re-thinking what he knew about Miranda. Her mom had had a brief fling and had gotten pregnant. The man had left without even knowing that he was a daddy. Miranda's mother raised her by herself, making sure that she grew up never really knowing anything about her father. Her mom had been very closed mouthed about the subject. Miranda had also told him about the sugar daddy that had put her through nursing school. He didn't hold that against her. They both had gotten what they wanted out of that relationship. He kind of envied the guy actually. He also knew that he was way too old for her, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy her company. With that thought in mind he started getting ready for his dinner date with her. Miranda watched the time tick down on the clock. She had been dressed and ready for almost an hour. Dressed in a slinky black dress that only reached the middle of her thighs, her long ebony hair pulled back into a ponytail, she was a vision of loveliness. She hoped she wasn't over doing it with the short dress, but she didn't really care. She wanted to turn Tom on to the point of no return. With that thought in mind she had skipped putting panties on. Instead she had taken some light black panty hose and cut the crotch out of them before putting them on. If she got a chance to flash her twat at Tom she would, and if she had to pee she wouldn't have to pull down her panties to do it. As far as she was concerned it was a win win situation. Miranda knew she wasn't a slut. Hell, she hardly ever went to bed with anyone. There was just something about Tom that she couldn't resist. She hoped the feeling was mutual. At precisely 7pm she heard a knock on her door. She wasn't surprised by Tom's precision; he was ex-military after all. She would even bet that if she looked into his dresser drawers everything would be put away with careful planning. Opening the door she was momentarily taken aback. Tom was dressed in charcoal gray slacks, brown loafers and a crisp white shirt with maroon tie. He wasn't wearing a jacket since it was still summer and quite warm outside. The white shirt fit him snug enough for her to tell that he was extremely fit and trim for a man of his age. His face was freshly shaved and the smell of a subtle aftershave filled her nostrils. When he smiled at her she felt a tingle in her pussy. Got to watch that she reminded herself, not wearing any panties does have its downside. They walked down to the ground floor where another surprise waited for Miranda. Tom had hired a car service for the evening. He gave her a warm smile as he opened the back door to the black towncar for her. She returned the smile and slowly slid into the seat making sure to open her legs wide enough for Tom's twinkling eyes to get a brief flash of her crotch. The bulging of his eyes was all the confirmation she needed to be sure he had seen what she had wanted him to. Her smile spread wider as he went around and got in on the other side, a bulge visible in his slacks. The place he'd chosen to take her turned out to be one of her favorite places to eat. LaFontaine was situated near the heart of the city and catered to a select clientele. All the tables were sat in such a way with partitions around them that the diners had a modicum of privacy. The place was intimate and pricey, that's why she'd only eaten here on two occasions. The hostess led them to a table sat back in a dim corner and left after taking their drink orders. Tom ordered coffee and she asked for a long island iced tea. After their drinks arrived they sat back and enjoyed the soft music being piped into the room. Miranda decided to have a little fun with Tom before the waiter took their order. She scooted her chair back a little and gazed down at her lap with a frown etching her face. Tom noticed the frown. "Oh darn," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Tom Drake's Descent Into Damnation "What's wrong," Tom asked, concern evident in his voice. "I'm not sure, but I think I have a run in my nylons. Could you look under the table at my ankle and see if I do?" The first word that came to his mind as he leaned over and glanced under the table was "gullible." Miranda didn't have a run in her nylons. What she did have were her legs spread and her fur covered pussy exposed to Tom's wide-opened eyes. He bumped his head on the underside of the table in his hast to sit back up. So, she wants to play he thought. Okay, I'll play along. Out of the corner of his eye Tom saw their waiter approaching. "Nope, no run. It does look like you sat in some gum though. There's definitely something stuck to the hem of your dress," he said as straight-faced as possible. A small look of shock came over her face as she twisted to the side in her chair; her legs still spread, and began to paw at the hem of her dress. When she couldn't find anything wrong she glanced up and almost screamed. Standing slack-jawed right in front of her was their waiter, his eyes firmly glued to the crotch of her pantyhose. "May I...uh...take your order," he stammered, unable to look away until Miranda closed her legs. It took awhile for her to compose herself but after she did, and they'd both ordered, she glanced over into Tom's face and saw the mischief and amusement in his eyes. Their laughter could be heard as far away as the kitchen. "That was cold-blooded," she snickered after their laughter faded. "Turn about is fair play young lady," Tom replied with a grin. Their meal was excellent, his rib-eye steak and her lobster tail were done to perfection. When he asked what they should do next since it was still early, Miranda suggested they go to the corner bar near home. Arthur Bowen felt the stirring in his pants the minute he saw the girl in the black dress come through the door. His growing chubby wilted instantly, and he almost shit himself when he saw the salt and pepper haired guy follow her in. He held back the scream of agony when his cast-covered wrist slammed into the doorframe as he made a hasty exit from the bar. Two blocks away he let it out. The evening progressed nicely for them. They drank several beers, talked and even had another laugh about their dinner exploits. Miranda talked him into playing pool, but after only one game they stopped. Every time that she leaned over the table to make a shot her dress rose dangerously high on her shapely legs. By the time the game ended every male in the place was sporting wood. They were both tipsy by the time they reached Miranda's door. "I had a wonderful time Tom," Miranda said as she unlocked her door. "Same here kiddo," he replied turning to head for the stairs. "Tom..." he heard her whisper. When he turned back toward her she flung herself into his arms and mashed her lips against his. Startled at first, his hormones soon took control and he was kissing her back with just as much passion as she was. Without realizing it, his hand found its way up under her dress while the other held her close to his body. His fingertips brushed the fringes of her pubic hair sending shockwaves of pleasure to her brain. She reached down and grasped his swollen member through his pants and squeezed. A low guttural moan escaped his lips and his middle finger nudged apart the slickened slit of her cunt then entered her wet tunnel. She shuddered and clamped her muscles around his invading finger trapping it into place. Their tongues battled as she rode his finger and he bucked his pelvis against her grasping hand. Miranda was startled when Tom stepped back and held her at arms length by her shoulders. "This is wrong Miranda, I'm way too old for you," Tom croaked. "Shouldn't I be the one to say whether you're too old for me or not," she shot back. "You are a vibrant, beautiful young woman. You deserve better than a broken down old man who's old enough to be your father," Tom insisted. "I know what I want," Miranda told him, tears welling up in her eyes. "You'll thank me later when you find yourself a nice man your own age," he said with an air of finality. Miranda watched in stunned silence as Tom climbed the stairs without looking back. She went inside, poured herself a stiff drink from her emergency bottle of vodka and plopped down on her couch. Flutters of pleasure still tingling inside her very wet pussy. She downed the first drink but sipped the next one. Her mind was racing a mile a minute. Tom had shed his clothes as soon as he'd gotten home. Now in just his underwear he sat on his sofa drinking his first beer from the six-pack in the fridge. He still had the remnants of a major hard-on and his nerves were a complete mess. He had wanted to accept what Miranda had offered. Desperately wanted to accept it. But to his old fashioned way of thinking it just wasn't right. His brain screamed that he was too old for her, while his cock screamed bullshit! Tomorrow he would go and talk to her and try to explain his feelings on the matter. He just couldn't bring himself to the point where he felt like he was robbing the cradle. Even if it was with one of the sexiest women he'd ever met. A soft hesitant knock on his door registered in his tormented mind. Not bothering to cover himself he went over and opened it. As soon as he had the door open far enough Miranda, still dressed as before, place a hand on his chest and pushed him back into the room. She pushed the door shut with her other hand. Silently they stood in front of each other staring into each other's eyes. Without a word being said their bodies collided in a passion fueled embrace each seeking the others lips. Before Tom could react Miranda had pushed him so far back into the room that the backs of his calves were pressed up against the sofa. Miranda held him with one arm around his neck and shoulders as her other hand snaked down under the waistband of his briefs and circled his throbbing cock with clenching fingers. Tom's hands found the firm round globes of her ass and held them in the palms of his hand as he felt his tool expand to its maximum length. He was lost to her smoldering kisses and the warmth of her stroking hand. Removing his hands from her ass he reached to his waist and tugged his underwear down his thighs freeing his raging meat to her loving touch. Miranda gasped at the heat pouring off Tom's erect penis. She pushed one more time, knocking Tom off his feet and onto the sofa. Wasting no time she hiked her dress up to her hips, held his cock up with one hand and sank down upon him until he was buried all the way inside her molten tunnel. With her hands on his shoulders she began to bounce up and down on his stiffness with abandon. This was not making love. This was fucking. Pure, unadulterated fucking. Every nerve ending in her pussy screamed in ecstasy. Faster and harder she rode his pole shooting for the glory and bliss of her approaching orgasm. Moans of intense pleasure from both their mouths filled the stillness of the room. Sweat coated Miranda's face as her up and down motions increased to a fever pitch. Her cunt cream coated Tom's cock in a thick layer before running down his shaft and onto his tightening nut sack. All Tom could do was allow Miranda to have her way with him. As soon as her pussy wrapped around the head of his cock he knew he couldn't stop. She was so tight it almost hurt at first. Once her lubricant began seeping out the pleasure grew and grew. He tried to help but was in the wrong position to do much except push his hips up as much as possible to meet her thrust. He could actually feel her cunt expand and contract around his shaft. The heat was too much to bear; his seed boiled over in his balls and shot up and out in a geyser of white gooey ropes of spunk. The sounds of squish, squish, squish joined the sounds of moaning in the air as Tom filled Miranda's pussy to overflowing. Miranda felt the first blast of Tom's seed hit the very depths of her cunt with hotter than hot liquid heat. The first blast was followed swiftly by several more. She felt her pussy fill completely causing her to reach her peak. Her entire body went rigid as her cunt exploded sending her over the abyss and into the waters of her own rapture. Ripple after ripple ran up and down the walls of her cunt milking all the nectar from Tom's balls. She collapsed onto his hairy chest with his rod still firmly planted in her sweet wetness. Minutes passed as Miranda fought to bring her labored breathing under control while Tom held her gently rubbing his hands up and down her back soothingly. They stayed this way for some time before Tom, bad knee and all, tightened his arms around her and stood up. Kicking his briefs off his ankles he started walking. Miranda's ankles locked around his back and her arms encircled his neck as he carried her toward the bedroom, his semi-erect cock still lodged inside her. With each step he took his cock pushed slightly inward causing Miranda to murmur moans of delight. By the time they reached the bed Miranda's pussy was beginning to tingle with excitement and Tom's cock was starting to inflate. Lovingly he laid her down on the edge of the bed. She kept her ankles locked behind his back preventing him from pulling out of her. Leaning over her, he placed his hands on the bed next to her shoulders and began to slowly push in and out of her pussy in short gentle strokes. Her eyes grew wider as his cock grew harder. They still hadn't said a word. Only their eyes conveyed the pleasure they felt to each other. This time they made love. There was no urgency, just soft sweet bliss. They came together in a slow moving dance of thrusts, their pleasure reaching new heights. Tom's seed burst forth at the exact same time Miranda's juices oozed out. Several minutes passed before Tom pulled out and crawled onto the bed exhausted. Their mixed fluids spilled out leaving a huge wet spot on the blanket as Miranda sat up then went to the bathroom. As she sat on the toilet she marveled at the amount of spunk that dripped out of her saturated pussy. She felt good. More than good, she told herself. Her nerves still tingled from their lovemaking. So much for being too old Tom Drake, she snickered to herself. Hell, she hadn't had sex like that in...well, forever. Finished, she wiped herself and returned to the bedroom. Something foreign tugged at her heart when she saw Tom stretched out on the bed naked and sound to sleep. He really is a beautiful man she thought as she stared at his resting form. With sleep, the worry lines on his face had softened and she noticed that his body showed the signs of a rough existence. There were a few elongated scars about an inch long near his right shoulder and two puckered scars on his abdomen that she knew from her nursing experience were bullet wounds. All of the scars looked quite old except for the one on his knee. Another thing she noticed, aside from being well muscled, was the color of his body hair. Unlike the salt and pepper on his head, the mat of chest hair and the fine trail of hair running from his belly-button to his groin was as black as night. Pulling the blanket from the other side of the bed she did her best to cover him before slipping out and heading back to her place. Tom woke with a start. The bedroom had no windows and was still fairly dark as he rose and stumbled to the bathroom wondering why his cock and balls felt so sticky. By the time he finished pissing the events of last night returned with a clarity that caused him to start getting hard. Throwing on a robe he went to the tiny kitchen and turned on the coffee pot and waited. He couldn't stop thinking about Miranda and with a fresh cup of coffee he sank down on the sofa, his erection almost complete. For the first time in, he couldn't even remember, he felt alive and vigorous. He still wasn't thrilled with the idea of going with such a young woman. Questions plagued his mind. Could he keep up with her? Would she eventually grow tired of being with someone so much older than herself? Would he be preventing her from finding a man her own age to love and settle down with? It wasn't as if he had set out to have sex with her. Hell, she'd practically raped him. A smile crossed his lips as that memory of her climbing onto his cock surfaced and his erection finished growing. Six minutes later he returned from the bathroom, much more relaxed, and sipped his coffee and planned out his day. It wasn't until he was headed out the door to run some errands that he noticed the note tucked under it. It was from Miranda and said: "Got called in to take a shift. Loved last night. Would love to make you a home cooked meal tonight if you're up for it. Around eight? Call me." Her phone number was scrawled at the bottom. When he called it he got her voicemail and left her a message saying he'd love to. Miranda checked her messages around noon and was overjoyed to hear Tom say yes to dinner. She hadn't mentioned anything about him to her co-workers and when they asked if she wanted to go out with them, they were puzzled when she said she couldn't. The rest of the day seemed to drag on and on for her. Eight o'clock sharp Tom rapped on her door. When she opened it he saw that she was dressed in the same floor length robe as before. He was in faded jeans, canvas boat shoes with no socks, and a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt. "I love that band," she squealed when she saw his shirt. "If I'd known this was come as comfortable as you want, I would have worn my robe too," he chuckled as she led him inside. "I just like to be comfy when I'm at home. Most of the time I run around here naked as a jay bird," she laughed. "That would have to be one beautiful jay bird," he remarked, realizing that he hasn't even seen her naked. "Aren't you the sweet-talker? You like spaghetti I hope." They dined at the little dinette table near the kitchen area. She had chilled a bottle of red wine that went great with the excellent pasta she had cooked. Their conversation ran the gamut from politics to how each other's day had gone. Not once did they discuss what had happened between them. After dinner she showed him around and explained some of the photos hanging on her walls. Most were of friends and classmates from her nursing school days. Several were of an older woman who looked a lot like she did. She told him they were pictures of her mom. Something nagged at the back of Tom's brain as he studied the photos of her mom. She seemed familiar to him somehow, although he was sure he'd never met her before. His train of thought was interrupted when she stepped close to him and the light sweet fragrance of honeysuckle caught his attention. "You smell wonderful," he said turning to watch her stare at her mother's photo. "Thank you," she said, turning to look up into his eyes with a big smile on her face. Before he could say anything else she turned and started walking toward what he presumed was the bedroom. Halfway there she let the robe slide off her shoulders and fall to the floor while looking over her shoulder in his direction. "Ready for dessert," she purred as she continued walking toward the room. He stood there staring in awe at the sight before him. Perfect round buns swayed back and forth as she walked. The curvature of her back and the flair of her hips were also perfect, and her ponytail almost touched the crack of her ass. When he reached the room his penis was straining to be released from the confines of his suddenly tight jeans. She stood beside the turned down bed and let him drink in all her wonders. Light from a lamp on one of the nightstands showed him what he hadn't seen yet. Her breasts were flawless and firm, capped with small brown areolas and pointed stiff nipples. His eyes traveled down over her smooth flat stomach and took in the sight of her neatly trimmed thatch of black pubic hair. He could just make out the swell of her excited clitoris peeking through the puffy outer lips of her pussy. He wasn't sure if he'd set a record or not, but he got out of his clothes faster than he'd ever done before. "Make love to me Tom Drake," she whispered, then laid down on the sheets with her legs slightly parted. Miranda watched with anticipation as Tom gently climbed onto the bed near her feet and took one of her ankles in his hands. She felt the soft caress of his lips as he kissed one, then the other ankle, before slowly working his lips higher up her legs. Goose bumps popped out all over her body by the time he reached her knees. When he reached mid-way up the inside of her thighs her nipples became rock hard and her juices flowed freely from her pussy. As he reached the juncture of her thighs his hot breath floated over the sensitive skin of her pulsating clit. "Please...please," she groaned, lifting her hips off the bed hoping to push her pussy onto his hovering mouth. It worked. His lips trapped her bud between them and she felt his tongue snake out and lick the very tip of her engorged clit. "OH GOD!" she screamed as the floodgates opened and her climax took her to paradise and beyond. Thrashing her hips upward she felt his mouth open and cover her entire slit. When she felt his tongue probing the inside of her tunnel she exploded again. Tom drank from the fountain of her cunt like a man dying of thirst. Her shudders and wildly bucking hips made it hard to keep his mouth on her juice filled pussy. Only by grabbing her hips in his hands and slowing her bucking down was he able to maintain contact. As her ass slowly sank back to the bed he began running his tongue through the warm, wet, slickness of her cleft. Gently, back and forth his tongue traveled, from the base of her clit to the puckered ring of her anus. He continued this until her chest quit heaving and her breath returned to almost normal. His mouth and chin were covered in her juices as he kissed his way over her stomach and reached the hills of her firm, ripe tits. There he spent some time licking and sucking each nipple until she reached down and urged his face higher. Their lips met and parted, allowing their tongues to explore the others. As they kissed she spread her legs wide, reached between them and took his cock and guided it to her opening. Tom felt the furry outer lips separate and engulf his head in sweet heat. A slight forward push of his hips allowed more of his cock to sink into her tight confines. Another push and he was in all the way, his heavy full balls resting on the swell of her round ass. He didn't move. He stayed buried in her pussy while their tongues danced with each other. She felt her pussy open and the head of his cock push past her outer lips. A small grunt escaped her mouth, followed by a bigger grunt as the rest of his cock buried itself into her eager cunt. When he didn't move she began squeezing his shaft with the walls of her tunnel. Breaking their kiss she whispered, "Fuck me lover." Slowly at first, he began pushing in and out of her in short steady strokes. When her hips started coming up to meet his jabs he began pulling further back and pushing forward a little harder. Soon he was pulling almost completely out then hammering back into her causing his balls to bounce off the firm round cheeks of her ass. Faster and faster their pelvises collided, filling the room with the sounds of wet, sloppy sex. He pushed and pulled his rock hard cock deep into her quivering hole feeling the stirrings in his balls as his cum boiled. "Oh shiiit!!!" he grunted as he released his load into her contracting cunt. "Yes! Oh yes! Oh fuck... TOM," she cried as her orgasm spilled out and her juices bathed his cock in cream. They fell asleep in each other's arms. Tom only woke once during the night. He felt something warm wrapped around his penis as his eyes opened halfway. Looking down he saw his cock disappear into Miranda's mouth before she lifted her head off and glanced up at his face. Tom Drake's Descent Into Damnation "My turn to have dessert," was all she said, before she bent forward and engulfed his flaccid cock back into her mouth. It didn't stay limp for very long; Miranda was very talented. Putting his hands behind his head, Tom succumbed to the expert manipulations of her mouth. Without using her hands Miranda swallowed his growing length over and over, circling his head with her tongue on each upward rise of her mouth. Once, she let his cock plop out of her mouth so she could suck each of his balls into it and bath them with her tongue. With that done she once again sucked his cock back up into her mouth. She didn't stop pleasing him until his grunts of pleasure increased and a torrent of spunk blasted down her throat. She didn't spill a single drop. Licking her lips, she scooted back up and snuggled her body into his. The smile on Tom's face didn't leave even after sleep overtook him. The next seven weeks saw the weather change, but not their hunger to be together. Miranda's girlfriends took their relationship in stride, although they didn't invite her out near as often as they used to. She didn't care. Tom's company was all she craved. They were practically inseparable as they went about the business of being happy. At the start of the eighth week her mother called to say she was coming for a short visit. Miranda had told her she was seeing someone named Tom, but hadn't told her any details such as age or last name. Or what he did for that matter. She knew her mom was curious, but she was also respectful of Miranda's privacy. When she told Tom about the upcoming visit he grew a little nervous. Miranda assured him that everything would be fine. Carol Waters climbed out of the cab in front of Miranda's place a day earlier than she had planned. She had taken it upon herself to grab a cab from the airport without calling first. It was three in the afternoon and she hoped that her daughter was home. She didn't want to roll her suitcase around all over the place. Thank God she'd gotten one with wheels on it. After lugging it up the stairs she cursed her luck when no one answered at Miranda's door. Wondering what to do she remembered seeing a bar on the corner of the block. She could wait there, and maybe have a few beers to steady her anxiety about meeting Miranda's new boyfriend. Lugging the suitcase down the stairs was easier than up them. She reached the bar and pushed open the door and stepped inside. Tom sat on his stool nursing a beer waiting for Miranda to get there. She had a staff meeting she had to go to but they planned to meet here and drink a couple after she was through. Out of habit Tom watched the door through the large mirror behind the bar. The door opened and a woman in a yellow pants suit pulling a suitcase behind her stepped in. There was something familiar about her face. It only took a couple of seconds to hit him. Miranda's mom. Shit, he grumbled, she wasn't supposed to be here until tomorrow. He watched as she parked her bag near an empty table, strode up to the bar and ordered a beer. Beer in hand she went back over and sat at the table. After two sips she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. Inhaling deeply, then blowing out a large plume of smoke into the air, she began to look around the place. Tom quietly studied her. She was rather good looking, with short dyed blonde hair, slim figure and strong facial features. As far as he was concerned, there wasn't much of a resemblance to Miranda. Downing his beer he ordered another and drank half of it in one gulp. He was working up his nerve to go over and introduce himself. It really wasn't something he wanted to do, but if Miranda walked in and saw him ignoring her mother he wasn't sure how that would go over. One more sip, then he stood up. Carol smoked and sipped her beer while taking in the joint. Her first impression was it looked just like any neighborhood bar she'd been in. You had your hard-core day drinkers, mostly old men, and you had the stray guy looking to score some tail. The guy sitting up at the bar, the only one close to her age, fit into the second category. Just as I thought she said to herself as she watched the guy her age stand and turn in her direction. Pigs, all of them. She hadn't had anything to do with a man since getting knocked up with Miranda and the bastard who'd done it had split town. She didn't need a man; she had a couple items in her bag that rocked her world just fine. As the guy got closer she gave him The Look. Tom's step faltered when she flashed him the look. The look that all women know how to give a guy. The one that says, kick rocks meatstick. The closer he got, the more his stomach knotted up. If looks could kill he was sure he'd be dead by the time he stopped at her table. She had the same piercing blue eyes that Miranda had, and they were boring holes into his skull as she waited for him to say something. "You're Miranda's mom," Tom said, more a statement than a question. Her face showed puzzlement and a touch of concern when she said, "Yes." "Hi, I'm Tom," he said holding out his hand in vain. "Miranda's Tom?" "Afraid so. May I join you?" "Uh, sure. Where's Miranda," she asked. Tom explained where she was, adding that she hadn't expected her until tomorrow. After telling him that she'd decided to come early, she sat back in her chair and fixed her gaze on his face. Something twitched in the back of her mind, but for the life of her she couldn't pull it to the front. "Why do you look so familiar? Have we ever met before," she asked, still staring at his face. "I don't think so. Maybe I just have one of those faces," he said, giving her his best smile. "Maybe..." she replied in a whisper. They killed time by drinking a couple more beers and talking about everything except Miranda. Tom learned that she lived in Florida, had all her life, and that she had her own boutique of women's apparel. She had started it shortly after Miranda had been born and now had several more outlets throughout her state. Just as she asked him what his story was, Miranda walked in. The two women squealed with delight as they hugged and kissed each other. Tom just sat there. Two more beers later they all headed to Miranda's. When they reached her door, Tom excused himself saying he would give them some time alone. Miranda thanked him, but reminded him that they were taking her mom out to dinner. Dinner; they'd opted for a simple meal at Denny's, turned out to be awkward. Carol seemed to be preoccupied and Tom grew uneasy with the amount of looks she kept shooting his way. She appeared to be trying to place him from somewhere. At least, that's what it seemed to him. He was sure however that he'd never met her before. "So Tom, what exactly do you do," Carol asked out of the blue. "I'm retired military," he answered. "Oh, that's nice. What branch are you retired from," she quizzed. "Navy," he said flatly, puzzled by her reaction to his answer. "Miranda hasn't told me your last name. May I ask what it is," Carol asked almost glaring at him. When he told her, the change that came over her was drastic. Her face got pale and her hands trembled uncontrollably. When Miranda asked what was wrong, all Carol said was that they had to go home. Actually, she insisted that they go home. The cab ride was spent in silence, both Tom and Miranda wondering what the hell had gotten into Carol. At Miranda's, Tom sat on the pink and white floral sofa while Carol ran into the bedroom, leaving Miranda pacing outside the closed door asking in vain what was wrong. Some minutes later the door opened and Carol emerged holding what looked like an old photograph. She walked over to Tom and handed him the picture. Miranda watched as the blood drain from his face as he studied the photograph. Not understanding what was happening, she went over and snatched the photo from his hand and looked at it. In the picture two people stood with their arms around each other and it was obvious they were on a small boat of some sort. Another thing that was obvious to Miranda was the identities of the two people. Although they looked much different then, she could tell it was her mom and a young Tom. "What is this," Miranda asked with a tremor in her voice. "That picture was taken nine months before you were born," Carol said glaring at Tom, then adding, "Meet your father Miranda." Miranda's eyes darted from the picture of her young mother and a smiling Tom in Navy dress blues, back to the two people in the room. Her knees buckled. Tom caught her just before she hit the floor and helped her over to the sofa. She sat there staring at the photo shaking her head no. "This doesn't mean that Tom is my dad," she was finally able to say after a few minutes. "Baby, I hadn't been with a man for six months before I met Tom, and I haven't been with one since," Carol spit out angrily. "But..." Miranda stared at Tom, her eyes pleading with him to make sense of all this. "Tampa. I had a three-day liberty and somehow hooked up with a wonderfully funny and sexy woman. What she didn't know was that I was called back to duty and flew out of the country that very same day. It was over a year before I was stateside again," Tom explained as that far away memory returned. "So it's true? You're really...my father," Miranda cried out. Tom didn't know how to answer. There was no denying that the picture was of him and some woman from his past. Although he wasn't sure how it could be the woman standing next to Miranda. She didn't look anything like the one in the picture. Well, almost nothing like the one in the picture. He guessed if he added twenty-some years to her photo, she could be the same woman. He just wasn't sure. He felt torn. Torn between the fact that he might have a daughter, and disgusted with the thought that if it were true, a daughter that he'd had sex with. Even more disgusting to his tortured soul, was the knowledge that he still desired her in an intimate way. Tom's stomach lurched and he bolted out of the apartment and barely made it to his bathroom before the contents of his belly spewed out into the bowl. The sound of Carol shouting, "That's right bastard, run away again," echoed in his head. Carol sank down on the sofa next to her daughter and put her arms around her shaking shoulders. Her words of soothing seemed to fall on deaf ears. It took over an hour of holding Miranda to finally get her to stop sobbing. Miranda told her that she was going to sleep and stretched out on the sofa fully clothed. Carol went into the bedroom, grabbed a blanket and came back and covered her daughter before going back into the bedroom and closing the door. She figured the best thing to do was to give her kid time to come to grips with what she'd found out. After slipping out of her clothes and getting into bed, a question she'd failed to even consider popped into her head. Had Tom and Miranda been intimate with each other? For reasons she couldn't explain, the thought of them having sex didn't repulse her as much as she would have expected it to. She actually found the idea that her daughter and herself had fucked the same guy oddly titillating. She lay there staring up at the ceiling wondering if she was turning into some sick, twisted pervert in her old age. Maybe it was true what all her girlfriends constantly told her. Lack of cock can make you crazy. "What the hell do they know, they're all nymphos anyway," she mumbled to herself. Tom stepped out of the cold shower, threw on his bathrobe and snagged a beer from the fridge. Sleep wasn't coming soon he was sure of that, but maybe a couple beers would help. The revelation of having a child still hadn't fully sunk in yet. However, if Miranda was his kid, the realization that he'd committed incest on a grand scale had. Miranda tossed and turned for a long time before giving up the hope of getting some sleep. There was only one way she knew how to prove, or dis-prove, her mother's story. Getting up she listened for sounds coming from the bedroom before quietly opening the front door and heading up the stairs. Carol had fallen asleep, but her slumber had been filled with strange dreams. Erotic dreams of the older Tom. It was wrong she knew, but he was even better looking now. But to be having dreams about him, especially ones where he was fucking her, was as wrong as she could get. Half awake and without really being aware of it her hand had slipped under the waistband of her white cotton panties. Her fingers traveled through the dense forest of her pubic hair and found her erect clit. Dampness filled her slit as two of her fingers stopped rubbing her bud in a circular motion and slid between the folds of her outer lips. Reaching the entrance she plunged the two fingers as deep into her wet tunnel as she could. Faster and faster her fingers dug into her hole as the palm of her hand spanked her engorged clitoris. Her breathing became erratic and it wasn't long before she plunged over the precipice and into the sweet comfort of a mind-numbing orgasm. "Oh my God," she mumbled as she pulled her drenched fingers from the tightness of her throbbing pussy. Two minutes later she was sound asleep. Tom was surprised to see Miranda standing outside his door when he answered the soft knock. Truthfully, he expected Carol to be there wanting a chance to tell him how despicable she thought he was. He stepped aside to let her enter but she didn't. "I think it best if I don't come in. I just wanted to ask if you'd be willing to take a test to see if you really are my father," she said. "I'd do anything for you Miranda," he told her, his heart breaking from the sad look on her face. "I'll come up in the morning before I head off to work," she said then turned and went down the stairs. Her knock came early the next morning. When he opened the door she was standing there holding two sterile wrapped wooden handled cotton swabs. Unwrapping one she told him to open his mouth. After swabbing the inside of his cheeks she sealed it back in the wrapper and did the same thing to herself with the other swab. "I have a friend in the lab at the hospital that owes me a favor," she explained. "How long before you get the results," he asked. "It shouldn't take more than a couple of days." "What do we do until then," he asked, dreading her answer. "The same as we always do...only without, you know," she smiled finally. Relived, he smiled warmly back at her. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek before turning to go. After taking a few steps she turned back. "No matter what the results of this test is Tom, I'll always have you in my life. Whether it's as my lover, or as my father remains to be seen." "If it turns out that I am your father, won't that be kind of weird? I mean..." he stuttered. "Yeah, but a little kinky too. How many girls can say they fell in love with their own father?" Her revelation that she was in love with him almost knocked him off his feet. "Oh, and another thing you could do for me. Go down and talk to mom some time today and help her understand why you didn't come back to her. I know you didn't know about her being pregnant, but I don't think she ever got over you." With that she bounded down the stairs and out of sight. Speechless, he shut the door and went over to the window. He loved to watch as Miranda waited for her co-worker to pick her up. She was standing there as usual, only today she didn't bother to look up and see if he was watching. Her ride arrived and she was off. Sitting on the sofa Tom debated doing what she'd asked him to do. He sat there sipping coffee for several hours desperately trying to figure out what to say to Carol. Once in a while he'd get up and pace the floor, but he knew deep down that he was only stalling. No longer able to stall, around noon he went into the bedroom and changed. Dressing in old sweatpants, a ragged black t-shirt and his canvas boat shoes he headed out the door. It wasn't until he was about to knock on Miranda's door that he realized that he'd been so nervous he'd forgotten to put on any underwear. Too late now he mused as he rapped twice. Carol answered the door wearing a knee length dark blue cotton housecoat that was held together by a row of snaps that ran down the entire front of it. It was clear to Tom, by the way the fabric draped her chest, that she wasn't wearing a bra. The two points her nipples were making in the material seemed to grow when she saw who was there. "Can we talk," he asked hesitantly. She stood there wide-eyed for a second or two before saying, "Come in. Miranda said you might stop by." When he entered he watched as she walked over to the dinette table and picked up a half full tumbler with an amber liquid in it. The way the material clung to her full round cheeks without any lines made him acutely aware that she wasn't wearing panties either. Setting on the table was an almost full bottle of Jack Daniels. For some reason he remembered that she had been partial to the Jack. How he couldn't remember more about her than that puzzled him. "I like to travel with the essentials, care for some," she said pointing to the bottle. "No thanks. If you don't mind, I'd like to tell you why I never called or came back," he said, his voice filled with nervousness. Miranda didn't have a coffee table, but she did have end tables on each side of the sofa. When Carol wanted to put her glass down she had to turn to do so. This caused the fabric of her housecoat to pull taut against her breast. Tom couldn't help but notice that they were a little fuller than Miranda's. "So tell me why Tom," she said, turning back toward him just in time to notice his eyes lingering on her breast. Without warning she felt herself getting damp in the crotch. "I think I'll take that drink after all," he croaked, trying to clear his throat. He watched her go and get a glass out of the cupboard, her ass swaying provocatively as she walked. On her way back she grabbed the bottle and brought it with her. Pouring him a drink, she refilled hers and placed the open bottle on her end table. After taking a swig, he spent the next twenty minutes explaining the secrecy that surrounded the special Naval unit he had spent his entire career in. No calls to anyone after a mission came in. No letting anyone know their where abouts. And ten times out of ten, he'd be assigned a different duty station after each mission was completed. He also told her that since they'd just met back then, he figured each of them had passed it off as three days of good company and great times. She seemed to understand what he was saying, although he was concerned that she'd refilled her glass two more times in the short time he'd been talking. Each time she had reached for the bottle her breast was on display, although not exposed, it was enough for his cock to show its appreciation. Her frequent downward glances told him that she was aware of his admiration too. His unease grew with each glance she took at his crotch, and he hoped that his discomfort caused by her lingering eyes would make his dick settle down. It didn't. Carol could see what she was doing to him by stretching the fabric over her tits. She'd caught him looking too many times at them not to be aware of the effect she was having on him. The rising bulge in his pants was also a dead giveaway. She felt the increase in her pulse and the growing spread of lubricant flowing in her pussy. If she stood up now she was sure the back of her housecoat would have a big wet spot on it. Refilling her glass slowly, giving him another chance to see her charms, she realized that over half the bottle was gone. Turning back to face him she had trouble concentrating on what he was saying. All she could think about was the burning desire building in her wet cunt. It had been so long since that familiar desire had been quenched. As he finished explaining his side to her, dark thoughts raced through her brain. Tom Drake's Descent Into Damnation "So you just marked our time together as a couple days of good times? Did you even consider coming back," she asked, breathing heavy. "I just told you what happened. I didn't have a choice in whether or not I could come back to you," Tom said, worried by the wild look in her eyes. "You could come back to me now. I think I'm still pretty enough to keep you interested." "That wouldn't be a good idea Carol. You are a beautiful woman, but my interest lays somewhere else," he stammered. "Miranda is your daughter! You can't have the kind of relationship with her that you and I can have," she hissed, her voice slurred. "I think I'd better go," Tom said, scooting forward and getting ready to stand up. "Tell me something first," Carol asked, getting to her feet and standing right in front of him. His path blocked he asked, "What?" "Do you like what you see?" Without warning her hands grabbed her housecoat in the middle and pulled. The snaps came open exposing her body to Tom's shocked eyes. She shrugged once and the housecoat floated to the floor. Full ripe breasts, with just a hint of sag to them, capped with crinkled, dark brown areolas and large stiff nipples dangled right in front of his face. Unable to look away, he watched as she stepped back enough for his eyes to take in all of her. Automatically his eyes went lower, but his cock went up, as he gazed at the thick patch of brown pubic hair that covered her mound. He could see the moisture hanging from some of her inner hairs. Shaking his head trying desperately to clear it, he started to stand. When he rose to his feet, Carol stepped in, grabbed the waistband of his sweat pants and tugged them down to his knees. She was completely out of control; the sight of the bulge in his pants had caused her to act. When his turgid meat sprang into view the hunger in her loins boiled over. She could feel herself almost drooling with lust. Wrapping a hand tightly around his shaft, she pushed against his chest with her other one. Caught completely off-guard, Tom's reaction time was way off. He was trying to tug up his pants with one hand while reaching up to push her away with his other when she stiff-armed his chest. He felt the sofa against the back of his calves and he twisted to the side so he wouldn't fall where she could jump on him. To his horror his bad knee gave out from the maneuver and he fell over. The floor rushed up and before he could raise a hand to break his fall his head struck it. Stars danced in his vision as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He felt himself being rolled onto his back, and then the feeling of wetness surrounded his penis. The wetness turned into a hot tight warmth sliding up and down his shaft. His eyes fluttered open and he saw a blurry figure of Carol sitting on top of him. Her hands were on his chest and her breasts swung from side to side as she gyrated on his manhood. She had a crazed look on her face, and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. She was muttering, "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," as she worked his cock in a swirling motion inside her saturated cunt. At noon Miranda had decided to take the rest of the day off. Her boss reluctantly agreed to her request after hearing that Miranda's mother was visiting. With the way the transit busses ran, it took her over forty-five minutes before she stood in front of her door. Carol felt Tom's cock start to soften almost as soon as she had stuffed it into her wet slippery pussy. Can't have that she muttered to herself as her hips started rotating in circles around the base of it. She could feel his balls rolling along her ass as she increased the speed of her gyrations. She could also feel the hardness returning to his shaft. Faster and faster she rotated until his pole was hard enough for her to start going up and down on it. Twenty odd years without a real cock inside her had made her cunt tight. She could feel the invading meat stretching places that hadn't been stretched in all that time. Touching places that hadn't been touched in what felt like forever. It only took a few moments before her first orgasm exploded deep inside, sending a waterfall of pent up cunt cream cascading down Tom's shaft and coating his balls. "OHHHH SHIIIIIIITTTTTTT!!!" she bellowed as she relentlessly pounded her ass against the softness of his full sack. Tom's weak cries for her to stop fell on deaf ears. He watched bleary-eyed as her face contorted and she cried out her pleasure. He tried to will his cock to deflate, but the wet, hot snugness gripped his rod in a vise of nerve tingling sensations. He could feel his balls tighten and feared the worse. Thrusting his hips upward hoping to dislodge her only made matters worse. Her cunt clamped harder around his dick and sucked the river of sperm from his bruised balls. "NOOOOO!" he screamed in frustration, as spurt after spurt of molten spunk flooded her pussy. Miranda heard Tom's cry and swung open the door. Her eyes fell on a sight her brain refused to acknowledge. Her mom was bouncing on top of Tom's pelvis with her back to the door. Miranda could see her mother's hair covered outer lips wrapped around Tom's twitching shaft as her ass rose and fell in rapid succession. The sounds of squishy wetness filled her ears each time her mother's ass slapped against Tom's cream soaked balls. Miranda stood paralyzed as she watched the sight before her, her panties undeniable getting wetter by the second. "Carol stop," Tom grunted as he weakly tried to push her off him. "Almost there...almost there," Carol chanted, her ass cheeks rippling with the force of her downward thrust. "MOM, STOP!" Miranda shouted as the trance broke and she rushed forward. Carol's body began to shake and shutter as the wave of orgasmic pleasure took her to places she'd only dreamed about for twenty-four years. Gushers of pussy juice flowed out from the union of her cunt and Tom's deflating penis. She felt hands on her shoulders and was startled when she was violently pulled back and off the cock that was pushed up inside her. A loud sloppy plop resonated off the walls as her cunt and Tom's cock broke contact. She rolled to the side and passed out. After she dragged her mother off Tom, Miranda saw the bleeding cut on his forehead. With practiced skill she cleaned and dressed the wound with the first-aid kit she kept in the bathroom. When she saw the gooey mess of juices on his groin, she cleaned that off with a washcloth. The smell of sex penetrated her nostrils and the dampness in her panties grew as she cleaned him. Carol was slumped in a fetal position and Miranda was able to see globs of thick white cream oozing from between the hair covered lips of her puffed up pussy. She shivered slightly as her own juices spread in her cotton panties. Tom's focus returned just in time to see Miranda shiver and quickly run a hand over her crotch. When she looked his way he saw a sad smile cross her lips before she turned her attention to her naked mother. Struggling, he managed to stand and pull up his pants. Against her objections, he helped Miranda get her mother up on the sofa. With a blanket covering her nudity, Carol began to snore daintily. The only thing that Miranda said to him before he left was he should get checked for a concussion. The only thing he could think of to say to her was sorry. Stiffly he climbed the stairs and let himself into his apartment, shame and humiliation running through every fiber of his being. Four days went by without him even venturing out of his place. All he did was watch television, drink a few beers, and lay about in his robe. He didn't want to face the world just yet; at least that's what he told himself. The truth of the matter was he didn't want to run into Miranda. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing the hurt that was probably in her eyes. He was in love with her, and now he'd surely lost her forever. The revelation that he was in love with her had struck him like a ton of bricks the same day as he'd squirted his spunk up her mother's pussy. He knew there wasn't anything he could say that would redeem him in Miranda's eyes. Even if he could convince her to take him back, things just couldn't be the same. Although he wasn't totally convinced that Carol had told the truth, if it turned out that Miranda was his daughter, then things definitely couldn't go back to the way they were. His heart ached from the loss. The blaring of a car horn snapped him out of his reverie. Glancing out the window he saw Miranda climb out of her co-workers car, a manila envelope in her hand. She glanced up at his window before disappearing into the building. He sank back down on the sofa, not even bothering to pull the robe over his exposed genitalia, and took another swig from his fifth beer of the afternoon. He whispered a thanks to Bill from the bar for being willing to make deliveries as he took another pull on the long neck bottle. A soft knock on his door caused most of that swig to end up on his chin. He got up, adjusted the robe and went over and opened the door, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Miranda stood there staring at his disheveled hair and ratty robe for a minute. Even in this state she couldn't help but think he was gorgeous. Warmth flooded her heart as his smile widened on his face. "Can I come in," she asked, already pushing past him. He shut the door and watched her walk over to the sofa. She was wearing her work clothes, a knee length snow-white dress that zipped up the front. She also had on white nylons and white nurses shoes. The dress hugged her bottom and showed off the curvature of her waist. He could just see the white bra through the fabric. He didn't see any panty lines so he figured she was wearing pantyhose. Disgusted with himself for staring at her rear, and the fact that his dick was reacting to her presence, he followed her to the sofa. When she turned to face him she held out the manila envelope he'd seen, a hint of fear was in her eyes. The envelope was still sealed. He gingerly placed it on the coffee table. "I thought we could find out the truth together," she said with a quiver on her bottom lip. She went over to the fridge and brought back two full beers. They sat down together, took a long pull each on the beers and just stared at the envelope on the coffee table. "Before we open that, I just want to tell you how sorry I am for what happened between your mother and I," Tom said blushing. "I'm not. Mom explained what she'd done to you. It wasn't your fault. She went home by the way." "Is she going to be okay," he asked. "I think so. She wanted me to tell you thanks, and I also want to thank you," Miranda answered in a sly tone that had him wondering. "Thank me for what," he asked puzzled. "She wanted me to tell you that she hadn't cum so much in a very, very long time. She also said she was sorry for forcing herself on you, but she just couldn't help it." "Glad I could be of service...I guess," he remarked, before asking, "And why do you want to thank me?" "Because you made mom happier than I've seen her in a long time. She didn't stop smiling the rest of the time she was here." "Wow," was all he could blurt out. "Can I tell you something sorta kinky," she asked, continuing before he could answer, "When I saw your cock in mom's pussy, I got really aroused." Another "Wow" slipped from his lips. "This is going to sound crazy, and I wouldn't blame you if you say no, but would you do me a favor," Miranda asked with a pleading look on her face. "If I can," he answered, unsure where this was going, but also knowing full well that he wouldn't refuse her anything she asked of him. "The next time mom comes to visit, would you be willing to have sex with her," she asked in a hushed tone. Flabbergasted, all he could say was, "HUH?" "I know it's a strange request Tom. But if it can make her as happy as it did this time, imagine what it would do if you were a willing participant." He studied her face trying to see if she was screwing with him or not. There was no indication that she was funning with him, quite the contrary, her face was a mask of pure seriousness. "There is one other thing..." her voice trailed off. "And what would that be," he asked, trying to keep the edginess out of his voice. "I want to watch." "Are you serious? You want me to have sex with your mom, while you watch?" Tom's eyes had grown as round as saucers. "Yes. I know it's kinky, but I'm a kinky girl. At least say you'll think about it," Miranda asked, reaching up and stroking the side of his face tenderly. He was already thinking about it. A vision of Carol had drifted into his subconsciousness. She stood before his minds eye totally nude, her breasts smooth and full; the dense forest of hair covering her pussy glistened from her moisture. A naked Miranda sat in the background whispering words of encouragement. Tom felt the rush of blood flood into his inflating cock. Miranda saw the tent forming in his robe and knew what his answer was. Pointing a shaky finger at the envelope he asked, "Well... you ready?" 'Before we do, can I ask you something? I want the truth too," she said staring into his eyes. "Another favor," he asked, his throat dry. "If it turns out that you are my father, then what happens to us? I mean, can we see each other like before, or do you want to just be my dad," her eyes implored him for an answer. Tom felt the barriers of social conviction fade into oblivion. He knew what he wanted. If it turned out that Miranda was his daughter he didn't care. He wanted her in the same way that a man wants a woman. He knew he always would. "If I am your father the world would damn us for having an intimate relationship. But, I do want you to know that I love you, and not in a fatherly way either." "You love me?" "With all my heart," he admitted. "Then, to hell with what the world thinks," she said with finality. Miranda picked up the envelope and stood up right in front of Tom. He watched as she pulled the zipper down the front of her dress exposing the swell of her cleavage to his gaze. Bending over she undid the ties that held his robe closed and then spread the halves aside, exposing his entire front to her lustful gaze. Telling him to scoot forward some, he watched in awe as she hiked her dress up to her waist. She did have pantyhose on he noticed. He also noticed that the crotch had been cut out of them. Turning her back to him, she spread her legs to the sides of his and stepped back far enough to sit on his lap. With one hand holding the envelope, she used her other one to reach between her legs and hold his rigid cock up in the air. With agonizing slowness Tom felt the tip of his cock part her outer folds as she slowly worked him up into the velvety smoothness of her tight tunnel. Once she had his cock completely sheathed in the cocoon of her soaking wet, steamy pussy, she leaned back against his chest. His arms wrapped around her and his hands came to rest on the bra-covered mounds of her young, firm tits. They didn't move. Neither wanted to break the immense pleasure that their union was giving them. Kissing the side of her neck, he didn't become aware of her opening the envelope until it was too late. Turning her face to his she gently asked, "Shall we?" Nodding, he watched her reach in and pull out a single page. His eyes stared at the words on it and for reasons he couldn't figure out his cock grew harder than it's ever been before. Miranda finished reading and turned her gaze back to his. "Does this mean I can call you Daddy," she asked gleefully, as her pussy began to convulse around her father's stiff rod.