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Guilty Pleasures

By: JasonX



He saw her out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head in her direction ever so slightly, and saw her look quickly back and forth. Then she slipped the wad of cash into her sweater pocket. She closed the register back up and strode way, down the aisle of the grocery store, toward the back.

He waited a minute, then closed down his own register, and followed. "If they ask me later where I was, I'll say I was in the bathroom." Jerard thought to himself.

He headed out back, and entered the back storage area, and climbed the stairs to the crew room. He caught a glimpse of her heading into the girl's changing room. He glanced around, but he was alone, the normally busy break area now empty, as it was after ten, and the grocery store was on a skeleton crew. It had been a slow, boring night.

"But it's about to get real interesting..." Jerard said to himself as he stepped up to the door of the bathroom. He knocked, and heard movement inside.

"What?" came Claudia's voice. There was a slight tremor to her tone, Jerard thought.

"Claudia, it's me Jerard. Can I talk to you for a sec?" he asked, putting his hand against the door, getting ready to move fast.

"Ah... what, did I, uh, forget to clean my checkout?" she asked back through the door.

"No, you had a call, and I took the message." he said.

"Oh! Good!" she replied, sounding vastly relived. She opened the door, and Jerard saw right away she had removed her sweater. It hung from a hook on the far wall. He pushed past her and darted forward. Before Claudia even new what was happening he was across the bathroom, and snatched it off the wall.

"What the fuck! That's mine!" she shouted, but his hand was in the pocket and he hauled out the money he had watched her steal. 

"Care to explain this?" he demanded, and seeing her shocked and fearful look, said "Don't bother lying, I saw you take it out of Mia's till. I'm taking this right to the manager."

"No, please, I can... I can explain! I didn't mean to-" she stopped at his dubious expression, "Oh, no, you can't tell! Let me put it back, I will! Please, I'll get fired, and I can't loose this job. My parents'll kick me out! Jerard, please!"

Jerard made to leave, and Claudia blocked his way. "What are you doing? I can't just ignore it. I could get fired too, if your spotted putting it back." Jerard reached for the door.

"Please, you keep it!" she said. 

"Hah, no way!" he shot back. Then he paused, as if to think about it.

"Well... I could put it back myself. I'm counting up tills tonight. No one would notice." he suggested. Hope bloomed in Claudia's eyes.

"But you'd owe me. Big." he said.

"Oh, yes, yes!" said Claudia jubilantly, "Anything, whatever!" She turned to leave.

She was half way out the door when she heard him say "Wait now."

"What?" she said, coming back in and closing the door.

Jerard sat down on the bench by the lockers, and patted the space next to him. After a moment, Claudia sat down next to him. "After the cash is back in the till, you'll be free, and I could never prove you took it. What good is that to me?"

"But I swear-"she started to say.

"That's no good. No, before I put it back, I think you should thank me for my kindness. I'm going to do a huge favor for you, you do one for me." he said looking her right in the eye.

"But I don't have any money, what could I-" she started to say, then Jerard put his hand on her knee, and squeezed.

"Oh, no wait." she said, starting to get up. He held her down by the knee.

"This is a lot of money. You won't just loose your job, you'll be arrested, and be put on trial. Think about it. That's alot worse than what I'm offering. But, never mind." 

Jerard got up, "Bye."

As he reached the door, Claudia said very quietly "Wait."

Jerard smiled to himself, and turned around and sat down.

"I guess it's better than everyone finding out." he said. He moved closer, and put his arm around her narrow waist. "But not here."

She stood up, and he pulled her down on his lap. "Here. And now."

"Okay..." she said, realizing she had no choice. He pulled her close and ran his hands up and down her back. He moved in and kissed her lightly on the lips, and when she didn't pull away, he kissed harder. He grabbed her leg and pulled it around, so that she was facing him, her legs on either side. She pulled away, gasping for breath from the long kiss. "What... what are we going to do?"

"Everything. " he replied, pulling the skirt of her one piece uniform up past her legs and around her waist. He groped her bare legs. "How old are you, anyway."

"18, just two days ago." she said, as he slid his hand under the dress and onto her thigh. She gasped as he lifted the leg elastic, and slid his hand into her panties and between her legs. He pressed into her, and slid his fingers in her vagina, hot and tepid, like a rainforest at night.

Claudia went rigid and tried to pull away, but Jared grabbed her long, curly red hair with his free hand, and kept her in place. "Now just calm down and enjoy this."

He began to message her groin from the inside, moving with swift, hard strokes, picking up pace, and against her will she moistened even more, the fluid flowed from her tight lips, down his hand. Claudia cried out, and Jared shushed her. "Now, you don't want me to stop and go turn you in, do you?" he warned.

Claudia shook her head, and closed her eyes and clenched her teeth at his adept manipulations. "Good. Now I want you to enjoy this." he instructed, "Love it, and I want you to cum on my hand, I want to feel it, I'll know if your faking. I want to hear you moan."

He increased the speed of his hand, and Claudia slid backwards until she was lying on the bench, her back arched. Her hands clawed at the sides, and she held on as she began to cum. "Oh, oh, oh fuck!" she moaned. Jared's hand was very wet now.

He pulled his fingers out as Claudia's orgasm subsided, and she lay panting on the wooden bench. He looked her up and down, so petite and young, with her large, high, firm breasts heaving against her one piece uniform, her bare legs askew on the sides of the bench. He pulled her off the bench and too her feet. "What?" she stammered.

"Your sweaty and dirty, and I want to appreciate this, so have a quick shower, and then we'll finish this." Jared propelled Claudia through the shower room door, into the group shower. Not seeing any alternative she twisted one of the knobs and the hot stream of water shot out. Unzipping her shift, she slipped out of it and tossed it on a bench. Her bra followed, than her wet panties.

The water was hot as she stepped into it, and the room was filled with steam. Claudia was engrossed in the stream, so she didn't notice the door opening, and then Jared was behind her, and had his arms around her waist. "I thought you said-" she began to say.

"Changed my mind." Jared interrupted, and he slid his hands up to grab her large, wet, lucious tits, "Shit, your breasts are amazing!"

Claudia than realized they were both stark naked. "No, we can't-"

Jared slid one arm around her waist in a vise-like grip, then bent her over. "Grab hold of your ankles, tight with both hands." he instructed.

Claudia did as she was told, and Jared maneuvered into position. He looked down at her small, tight, wetly sleek ass, and slid a finger into her anal passage, causing Claudia to give off a squeak. He pulled out, then got his cock into position, and gripped her hips for leverage. Thrusting forward, he drove into her ass, all the way, Claudia shrieking the whole time. 

Once in she began to calm down, the momentary shock at what he was doing having subsided. "Oh, yeah, fuck, yeah..." moaned Jared, and he began to pump her ass, grinding hard against her dimpled buttocks. Claudia moaned deeply at the invasion, but there was nothing she could do, and the pain was gone now, replaced by a deep pleasure unlike anything she had felt before. 

Jared continued on for several minutes, until he was ready to blow, than abruptly pulled out, much to Claudia's annoyance. She had hoped he would finish, and she could get this over with, plus she had been softly moaning at the glorious feeling. If her boyfriend Ted knew what she was doing, something she hadn't let him do to her, he would freak. She smiled at this as she straitened up.

"You liked that, huh!" Jared said, seeing her smile. He grabbed her and pulled her down onto the bench, on his lap, "Time for the last hurrah, baby."

He pulled her atop him, and before she could react, his dick slid inside her moist vagina, it was so wet now. She screamed in pleasure in spite of herself, and this excited him even more, and he began to lift her up and down by her ass, shagging her hard. Claudia was out of control now, giving off little shrieks, and she encircled his neck, and began to move herself up and down on him.

Jared was over cum, and slumped back to lie on the bench, with Claudia straddling him. She began to move faster and faster on him, and her head lolled back, and they both began to cum. Jared shot his load into her and roared. Claudia came over and over, until she thought she would faint, then slumped forward onto Jared, exhausted.

Later, after they had dressed, Jared promised he would put the money back.

"We're even now, right?" asked Claudia, as they walked back down the stairs to the main floor.

"Maybe, maybe not." replied Jared slyly.

"What do you mean?!" demanded Claudia.

Jared pulled a mini tape recoder from his uniform pocket. "Taped your entire confession. See you later, Claudia. And I do mean see you."

He strode off into the store, leaving an enraged Claudia to watch him go.

The End?

Guilty Pleasures



Part of the 'Butt Monkey' series of stories by Robert Furlong


===

Jake and Simon were focussed on the afternoon's football game when they emerged from their hotel bedroom and there was no mention of what had taken place between their dads the previous night.  Guy was his usual bright and breezy self, but I was feeling more subdued: troubled by the knowledge of what we had done together and plagued by regrets about how far I had allowed myself to go.

I wondered whether, had the tables been turned and it had been Guy's face underneath me licking at my most intimate area while I squatted over him, I would have felt less troubled now it was morning.  I'm sure I would have been rather shocked that he had done something so base but I would still have felt guilty that I had gone along with it.  I certainly wouldn't have been laughing and joking with the boys like Guy was able to.

As we ate what passes for breakfast at such budget hotels, Simon made a joke which I didn't catch about something Guy had said when he'd put them to bed.

Guy replied, "Yeah... we certainly did."  And then added, glancing over at me with salacious smirk, "Didn't we, big boy?"

Jake and Simon found that very funny and in the time it took me to recover from my discomfort at the reference to my manhood, the conversation had moved on to more mundane matters before I could ask what the joke was.

I saw Jake throw me a discrete smile and I figured he was being supportive, knowing full well how self-conscious I was about my genitals and how upset jokes about my large build could make me feel.  We'd had the conversation a few years ago, when it was becoming obvious that he was starting to take after me from the way he was constantly adjusting the noticeable bulge which was developing in his trousers.  I'd told him how his gran had made me ashamed of how large I was growing when I'd been his age; an attempt to help him avoid feeling the same negativity about himself.

Jake had been relieved, I think, to discover that his sudden growth spurt was something he'd inherited and had told me that he was finding it increasingly difficult to pack himself into the underwear I was buying for him.  Erections, in particular, were becoming awkward and almost impossible to hide from the inquisitive stares of his teachers and friends.  After trying out a few different brands and styles, he'd settled on some Calvin Klein boxer-briefs which were roomy enough to contain his enlarging organ even in its most troublesome state, while supporting his developing testicles which he said had been feeling painfully constricted.

Unlike I had been at his age, though, Jake had seemed, if anything, quite proud of his size.  These days, at eighteen and on the threshold of adulthood, he seems revel in showing off his endowments to anyone who happens to be in his vicinity.  I'd had to have strong words with him, during the brief and ill-judged time we were Facebook friends, about a video that one of his friends had tagged him in which showed him and few other lads in the changing rooms after football practice naked and bucking their hips to make their floppy dicks swing around like windmill sails.  Jake had easily been the most impressively built and had brandished his organ enthusiastically to the guy who was filming him, grinning and cavorting as he put the other lads to shame.

But even back then, in his early teens, he wasn't averse to strolling out of his bedroom with his shorts at full-mast first thing in the morning – something which I would never have dreamt of doing – and was starting to deliberately pick out trousers which were tight enough around the crotch to flaunt his bulge more prominently.  He had also found it surprisingly easy to talk about how large his penis and testicles had developed, and had told me that he quite liked the fact that he was easily the biggest in his class when it came to showers after sport.

"Don't they call you names?" I'd asked.  "I used to really hate that."

He'd smiled and said, "Well, I've never been called 'Footlong'!"  I'd already told Jake about my most hated nickname at school.

I'd nodded.  "Yeah... I guess these days, most kids your age would think of that as a Subway sandwich.  But what about other names?"

He'd shrugged.  "They're only jealous.  And anyway, what's wrong with 'Jake the Snake'?  I take it as a compliment!"

I'd smiled.  "I wish I'd felt like that.  By the time I'd got to about fourteen, I used to try and put off showering at school until everyone else had gone.  I was so embarrassed about what I had between my legs."

"Why did gran make you so uptight about it?  What's the big deal?"

I'd shaken my head.  "I dunno, Jake.  I guess it was a religious thing.  I think she thought it was the devil's work or something."

Jake had laughed.  It all seemed so absurd to him, and yet to me at his age the fact I was so much bigger than the other boys had made me feel dirty and impure.  My older brother had exacerbated my insecurities by claiming, for many years, that his genitals were of 'normal' proportions and that I was some kind of genetic quirk.

"How big's an average willy, dad?" Jake had asked.

I'd shrugged.  "I dunno exactly.  About six inches, I'd guess..."

He'd looked puzzled at my use of such outmoded units.  "How long's that in centimetres?"

I'd showed him with my hands and he'd asked, "Is that when it's... you know... hard?"

I'd nodded and he'd smiled, almost sympathetically.

"And how big can I expect to grow to?  You know... from your own experience..."

I'd blushed a little at the implied reference to my own penis and had told him, without being specific, that in time he should expect to grow significantly bigger than average.  And that however big his balls were now, they were going to get a whole lot bigger by the time he was a man.

He'd grinned enthusiastically, no doubt looking forward to the prospect.

Now, sitting at the breakfast table in the hotel, I worried that Guy was going to keep calling me 'big boy' but fortunately he didn't.  Nothing else was said about the previous night – no awkward questions or suspicious glances – and it seemed that our shenanigans after lights-out had thankfully gone unnoticed by our sons.

This didn't help to ease the anxiety which I was feeling, and which haunted me throughout the day.  Nor did the fact that Guy had said he'd enjoyed what we had done and, from his happy exterior at breakfast and on the drive to the game, continued to be untroubled by any feelings of guilt or regret himself.

What on earth had possessed me to put my mouth on another man's backside?  I hadn't just done it in a kiss-my-arse kind of way that could be turned into a joke afterwards, but had had my face buried into his hairy crack, had been licking around his hole and – I could unfortunately remember it with surprising clarity – penetrating his anus with my tongue.  And to think that I had not only found all that breathtakingly exciting but had actually climaxed – powerfully climaxed – as I did so.  Jesus Christ!

And yet, try as I might, I couldn't help but steal glances towards Guy's backside while we were at the match, his tight jeans showing off the firm roundness of his cheeks and giving a hint of the alluring cleft between them.  Every time I did so a conflict arose inside me between the feelings of guilt at what I'd done and an insistent sexual craving to do it again; feelings which seemed to originate from two opposing places inside me.

I was all too aware that my feelings of lust were homosexual in nature: how could I not be when the focus of them was firmly directed towards another man's behind?  And yet, while I accepted that all men probably had a gay aspect to their sexualities, I didn't feel ready to embrace mine.

I'd only once before done anything sexual with another male and I'd never regarded that as being 'homosexual' as such.  There had been very little intimacy between me and the other man and I had always mentally disregarded the experience as a case of two married men with high sex drives who should have known better.

My then-wife Linda and I had been staying over for a long weekend with a couple we were friendly with who'd bought a cottage in the Cotswolds.  It must have been very early in our marriage because Linda was still serving up regular intercourse at home and Jake hadn't yet appeared on the scene to keep us tied down.

Their house was quite old and rickety, and every movement we made in the guest room made the door shudder in its frame and the floorboards creak beneath us.  The bed we were sleeping in was also very squeaky and Linda said it would be too embarrassing for us to have sex while we were at the cottage (looking back, she was probably pleased to have an excuse).  Although it was pretty obvious that the rhythm of our lovemaking, however we tried to position ourselves, would be heard in explicit clarity by our friends in the bedroom next door, I tried on several occasions to persuade Linda that Carl and Anna would expect to hear the natural sounds of intimacy from a husband and wife staying over with them.  I even suggested that Carl was probably just as keen as I was for release and that if Linda and I were to set the ball rolling, he and Anna would probably seize the opportunity to start up a rhythm of their own.  Linda, however, was adamant that such things should remain private and so I had to put up with the discomfort and annoyance of having an almost permanent hard-on during the first half of our visit.

By the Saturday evening, though, my erection was becoming painful and my balls were so plump that they were chaffing against my thighs.  It was becoming uncomfortable to sit down without having my legs splayed embarrassingly wide and I felt my face flush when Carl glanced a few times towards the swollen bulge in the front of my trousers as we washed the dishes together after the meal.

At bedtime, Linda refused once again to acquiesce, even though she could see how badly I needed a release.  She wouldn't even jerk me off in a standing position in case the floorboards betrayed the rhythm of her hand, although she offered me a blowjob but only because she knew I didn't enjoy them.  We went to bed as silently as we could, the rattling and creaking accompanying our every move, with my cock arching at full mast from my pyjama fly because the material they were made of was too confining.

I was unable to sleep because of the throbbing pain of my engorged organ and the grating friction of the duvet on the exposed head which had grown too bloated for my foreskin to cover.  It was like having an itch that I couldn't scratch, only far more excruciating.  Eventually, desperate for some relief, I got up in the early hours to skulk to the cold bathroom at the end of the draughty corridor, tenting the front of my pyjama bottoms in a way that would have been funny if it hadn't have been so uncomfortable.  The bathroom lock was rusted and noisy and so, to avoid waking everyone up, I wedged a towel under the door to close it as well as I could.  I searched around to see if Carl had stashed any helpful magazines in the usual places but, finding none, hitched my pyjama bottoms down and stood over the toilet bowl to make do with just my imagination and my right hand. 

Just as in the bedroom, the floorboards in the bathroom betrayed my every movement.  Having tried putting my feet in various positions, I found the best I could manage was a dull creaking in time with the movement of my hand which I hoped would not be loud enough to wake the others in the cottage.

In spite of the chill of the bathroom, I was able to work up a nice steady rhythm on my erection, holding onto my scrotum with my free hand to stop my bollocks making loud slapping noises against my thighs.  I'd always struggled to masturbate quietly, ever since my teens.  My cock had swollen so thick that my foreskin was too taut to slide across its fattened and angry-looking head, even with a copious dose of spit, but after some trial and error I managed to jerk it up and down the shaft in a way that wasn't too uncomfortable.

I was just starting to enjoy the sensation of pumping myself, just starting to speed my wrist up and to quicken my breathing, when I became aware of the towel under the bathroom door sliding across the tiled floor as someone pushed their way into the room.  I looked round, horrified to be caught masturbating in a friends' house bare-arsed with my pyjamas around my ankles, and saw that it was Carl in his underwear.  He was a large guy – he played rugby on his local team and had the characteristic combination of muscle and bulk.

Panicking, I tried to conceal as much of my erection as I could while at the same time lunging down to yank my pyjama bottoms up, but Carl pushed the door closed behind him and whispered, "Sshh... Rob, it's okay."

I glanced over at him, still self-consciously trying to cover myself, and muttered, "Sorry... I just needed some relief."

He came over to me, smiling.  "Me too."

For a second I didn't know what he meant and he peered down at himself, at the white t-shirt and shorts he was wearing, before I noticed a prominent rod pressing against the material at the front of his shorts.  It was obvious that his erection was quite short but extremely thick – it seemed thicker even than my own.  The white cotton of his shorts had a small damp patch of a sticky-looking liquid at the tip of the fat rod his organ was making in them.

It seemed I had been right about Carl being as desperate as I was: perhaps Anna, like Linda, was too self-conscious to allow sex when they had visitors staying over.

Carl grabbed a tube of liquid from the cabinet and squirted some of it into his hand.  Then, pushing my hand away from my own erection, still aching in its hardness in spite of my surprise, he grabbed the shaft of it.  Starting to wank it gently with the cool jelly-like liquid helping to lubricate my swollen foreskin, he smiled again and whispered, "You've got an amazing cock."

I just stared at him incredulously.  I hardly knew this guy – he and Anna were really friends of Linda's from university – and here he was whacking me off in his bathroom.

I tried to push his hand away, muttering something about going back to bed, but he kept stroking me and kept smiling.  He said, "It'll be better this way.  Believe me."

It was true that his hand felt really good on my cock – he was clumsy and obviously wasn't used to rubbing an organ with a shaft as long of mine, but the liquid he'd wet his hand with made his fingers glide exquisitely up and down my length.  Besides that, the sheer sensation of having someone else's hand on my erection and being stroked in a way that was different from my own rather prosaic technique was incredibly pleasant.

I looked over at him again and he was still smiling reassuringly as he gently beat me off.  "Just enjoy it, Rob.  Don't even question it."

Then he chuckled and said, "This angle's really awkward."  He moved to stand behind me, still holding the shaft of my cock, and, with his chest against my back and his arm reaching around me, started wanking me again with far more dexterity.  Women, when they had beaten me off, had always found it easier to be in front of me or to the side.  But as a man, Carl was far more comfortable manipulating my cock from the same angle as that he was used to when masturbating his own.  

He stroked my organ with long, smooth strokes, aided by the slickness of the liquid he'd squirted onto his hand.  Gradually, he increased his rhythm as he sensed as I was starting to relax and enjoy his handy work, tightening his grip as he did so.  My large balls, hanging low in my floppy nut-sack, started slapping against my thighs so Carl reached around me with his left hand and held them, gently kneading them through the hairy bag of my scrotum.

He whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my neck, "You've got a nice big pair of knackers, Rob.  And a beautiful long cock."

It felt surprisingly good to hear him talk to me like that; to hear another man enjoying the size and feel of my genitals after Linda, even at her most sexually receptive, had shown so little interest in what I had between my legs.

I whispered, "Yeah, that's good," and he nuzzled in closer behind me, pressing himself against me so that I could feel his hard-on rubbing against my left buttock.  He didn't push himself into my crack – if he had I think I'd have pulled away and ended it there – and I don't think he actively thrust himself against me.  He just let his erection press into my cheek so that our combined rhythm – the beating of his arm and the gentle movement of my hips as I worked with him – would make my bum rub against him.

He started wanking me more quickly and I cursed the floorboards for the tell-tale creaks which accompanied every sweep of Carl's hand back and forth along my length.  I was slightly repulsed by having another man's hot breath on my neck and his cock grinding into my backside – I could feel its wet stickiness against the bare skin of my cheek – but all this was vastly outweighed by the amazing sensation of his hand working my erection in a strong, confident and well-lubricated rhythm. 

"Your cock is so fucking long... so fucking hard!" he whispered as he beat me off with one hand and played with my balls with his other.  "I bet you're gonna cum buckets!  Come on, Rob... it's gonna be so hot watchin' it spew!"

I looked upwards and closed my eyes, falling back a little into his muscular chest.  He took his hand off my ball-sack and wrapped it around my belly to hold me; his large physique was more than able to support my weight.  My bollocks started whacking against my thighs with every stroke of his hand but neither of us cared any longer about the dull clapping sounds they made.

I muttered, "That's so good," and his hand sped up even further.

He whispered again, his mouth so close to my ear that his hot wet lips would occasionally touch it, "Linda's so lucky to have such a big cock filling her pussy... such a massive bell-end pumping inside her... so lucky to have all your hot cum filling her up."

I grunted, "Oh, God, yeah!"

His hand went even faster; his wrist a frenzy of movement making my balls bob up and down so fast and so hard that they were getting painful.  His own stubby erection was grinding through his shorts into my buttock, enjoying the thrusting of my hips in time with his hand.

"Spray it into her, Rob, with your hot fucking cock!  Empty your massive bollocks into her!"

And in my mind I did; although in reality it was the pan, lid and cistern of the toilet which were treated to a copious splattering of my seed.

Carl's left hand returned to my balls as his right kept wanking spurt after spurt of semen from my cock.

He was whispering, "That's it, mate.  Empty your nuts... let it all out!"

My cock willingly obliged, the spurts of liquid growing weaker but no less voluminous as my orgasm subsided.  He gently squeezed my balls to release the last few dribbles of my pent-up load while he gradually slowed jerking my foreskin back and forth.

He said, "God, your spunk stinks!  It must be really strong."

He reached up to the cabinet and squirted another gob of the liquid from the tube into his hand.  Then he moved around to the side of me, pulled his own shorts down to expose his own short, fat cock – the head of it looking as swollen and sore as mine – and started beating himself off towards the toilet.  As he did so, the liquid on his hand made wet slurping noises which I hadn't noticed when he'd been wanking me.

I think I just stared at him – I hadn't seen another guy masturbate in front of me up close like that – and suddenly felt a little awkward, standing alongside him with a string of semen hanging from my spent manhood which was mercifully starting to soften and droop towards the toilet bowl.




Guilty Pleasures



He grabbed my right hand and shoved it onto his balls.  They were quite small and, unlike mine which flopped around loosely and dangled low between my legs when I bent down, Carl's were held close to his body by his tight, leathery scrotum.  Although I felt a mild aversion towards its wrinkled hairy skin, I gently kneaded it the way he had mine, as he frantically jerked his foreskin up and down the short length of his cock.

He glanced over at me, his breathing quickening and a thin film of sweat forming on his forehead, and managed a weak smile as he stood wanking himself in front of me in an odd-looking hunched stance.  I tried to smile back as I massaged his balls, not really knowing what to do with them if I'm honest, wondering if their small size meant that he would produce less semen than I had.

The floorboards were creaking and groaning loudly by now, their steadily increasing rhythm making it obvious throughout the whole cottage that something sexual was going on at the end of the upstairs corridor.  I was thankful that Linda was a heavy sleeper and hoped that Carl's lack of concern about the noise meant that Anna was too; otherwise, perhaps such sounds from the bathroom late at night was something she was used to from her husband. 

He opened his legs wider and sort of squatted down, knees bent.  He grabbed my hand again and moved it up and down on his balls to show me that he liked a rubbing rather than kneading action down there.  As his fist sped up to a blur of motion on his cock, he closed his eyes tightly and made a pained expression, like he was taking part in a Japanese endurance competition.  I sincerely hoped I didn't look like this when I masturbated; it wasn't a terribly flattering pose.

I wanted to say something sexy to excite him towards climax, just as he had with me, but I couldn't think of anything which didn't sound corny or silly.  "Empty your balls!" had worked well on me but now it just sounded ridiculous.

Eventually I managed, "Your cock is so thick," which seemed to please him because he quickly grunted back at me, "Yeah!"

Suddenly he bucked his hips forwards, as though he wanted to flaunt his cock as prominently as he could to show off how he was beating it with what looked an impossibly fast rhythm.  His eyes remained tightly closed but his mouth contorted into an 'O' shape and his lips puckered outwards.  I rather pitied Anna is this was the face she had to look at when he was banging away on top of her.

He grabbed my hand again and pushed it further between his legs.  I wasn't sure what he wanted me to do so I just rubbed the tops of his thighs behind his balls, surprised at how hairy and sweaty he was back there.  He seemed to like that and called out breathlessly, "Touch me!  Touch my... touch my a... a... aah yeah!" 

He started thrusting his hips forwards and upwards in rapid, air-fucking lunges as his cock began squirting a surprisingly profuse amount of semen across the already generously-daubed toilet.  As his orgasm overcame him, his mouth twisted into a misshapen rictus, his teeth bared as though he was in agonising pain.  Were orgasms simply unpleasant necessities for some men?  I'd always greatly enjoyed my own, although I had to admit that those which took place inside a woman were usually significantly better. 

I kept rubbing the tops of his thighs as he climaxed, wondering why he liked me touching him there, until the pumping of his cock slowed and he steadied himself against the toilet to catch his breath.  Then I withdrew my hand to see how we would conclude things.  What did two guys do after masturbating together?  Chat about the weather?  Shake hands?

As it turned out, things were rather stilted between us and we quietly washed our hands and mopped up our joint mess from on and around the toilet.  Carl seemed far less relaxed about the fact we'd been sexual together than Guy had, which is ironic given how much more intimate Guy and I had been.  He made an awkward joke – something along the lines of, "I guess if the wives won't put out, boys are gonna be boys, huh?" – but other than that we didn't say much other than what was needed to clean things up.

Before we turned in, he tapped his nose and muttered, "Not a word, Rob, okay?"

I feigned a small smile and whispered, "Of course not!" as I headed back down the corridor to try and get some sleep alongside Linda now that my cock had finally shrivelled enough for my foreskin to ease back across the sensitive head.

The following day, Carl was more like his normal self but I got the impression he regretted what we'd done from his reluctance to make eye contact with me and the way he avoided making direct conversation.

I suspect he confided in his wife about what had happened between the two of us – such as it was – in the bathroom that night.  If he did, he probably put the blame firmly at my poorly-barricaded door.  I don't know that for sure: I just know that he and Anna never took us up on our return offer for them to stay with us and we never received another invite to their place.

===

It wasn't until we'd returned home and the disgruntled cat had been fed, that I managed to sneak an hour or so on the internet away from Jake's prying eyes.  Only then did I begin to understand that what had happened with Guy was not something which was uniquely perverse to me.

I quickly found a word for what I had done to Guy: I had 'rimmed' him.  That in itself made me feel less anxious; at the very least I had a label for it.

Rimming was defined as 'the act of using one's tongue on the anus and surrounding tissue of another person in order to gain or give sexual pleasure'.  Although it mainly seemed to be described as an element of foreplay during homosexual lovemaking, there were websites on which straight men confessed to having done it or to having fantasized about it.  Of those, I was greatly relieved that the majority of men had their attentions focussed on the backsides of their own gender rather than on their wives or girlfriends.  Indeed, some stated that they felt repelled by the idea of rimming their female partners but hankered after the arses of friends, workmates, brothers and even, in one case which seemed to leap out at me from the screen, his son's friend's father.

Most men were in agreement that whatever it was about the male arse which was so alluring, faecal odours were a definite turn-off.  There was difficulty in describing the smells and tastes which were so exciting – words like 'sweaty', 'musty' and 'pungent' didn't capture the unique flavour which had so fascinated me – but almost everyone agreed that toilet smells formed no part of it.

Some of the forums I read through had links to galleries of men rimming one another.  Although I was intrigued to see pictures of other guys doing what I had so enjoyed, I was hesitant about clicking on them with Jake being just downstairs.

In any case, I'd never really been into internet porn.  A few years earlier, Jake had inadvertently left a trail to a few dodgy websites and out of parental concern I'd felt compelled to follow them.  I'd found a series of galleries of naked women, pouting and fondling their breasts and vaginas.  While I can't deny that I'd had to adjust the front of my trousers a few times as I'd clicked through them, I certainly hadn't become excited enough to do what my son had no doubt done to himself as he'd looked at them.  After feeling mildly disappointed and deleting all traces of the websites, I'd had a stern-ish talk to him about internet safety.

Now, glancing over my shoulder to make sure that Jake hadn't crept up on me like he sometimes did, I tentatively clicked on a link to a rimming gallery and almost gasped as my screen filled with pictures of men with their faces pressed close to other men's backsides in all sorts of positions.  It had never occurred to me to look at any gay stuff on the internet and, if I had considered the prospect of doing so, I would have expected to be disgusted by them or at least for such pictures to seem disharmonious and uninteresting to me.

However, seeing such an abundance of images of men being sexual together was a revelation – here was row upon row of men with their buttocks splayed so explicitly in each other's faces, their tongues dribbling in anticipation of sliding into each other's cracks, their cocks throbbing from the excitement of tasting each other's holes.  In contrast to the dissatisfaction I'd experienced clicking through screen after screen of pouting women, I found myself mesmerized by the sight of male couples entwined together at their most graphically sexual.

I clicked on one of the small pictures and gasped as it grew to fill the screen.  Two men, both a few years younger than me, were naked on a bed and one was doing to the other what I had so found so exciting to do to Guy.  Their bodies were sweaty, their faces flushed, and their cocks were rock hard.  They didn't look in any way 'gay' together, as I might have assumed they would: neither of them looked particularly effeminate, neither was unnaturally toned-up and both lacked the self-conscious pose of professional models.  They were just two normal-looking guys – one a bit chubby, the other more hairy – who happened to be indulging in a moment of sexual togetherness just like Guy and I had.

I clicked on another of the pictures and studied the image which filled the screen.  The two men in this photo were in their mid-twenties.  They were dressed in shirts and ties and were standing together in a toilet cubicle, as if they'd nipped out from their office for a loo break.  One was yanking the back of his dark grey trousers down, the other was kneeling behind him, extending his eager face towards the round buttocks which were being exposed.  Both men's cocks were arching upwards from their flies; both greatly aroused by the prospect of what they were about to enjoy together.

I clicked on another picture, then another; fascinated by what I was looking at.  I could barely believe how pictures of men being so intimate with one another could be so erotic.  I felt my cock lengthening, its head slowly swelling and pressing against my shorts, and glanced towards the door again in case Jake was watching me getting turned on by such an unexpected source.

I momentarily considered closing the galleries, switching off the internet, and I suppose I really should have done just that.  I'd found out what I'd wanted to and there was little more I could learn from looking at erotic pictures.  Needless to say, though, the images were too enthralling – too arousing – to simply switch off and I clicked on more and more of them, becoming increasingly engrossed in what the men were doing together.

I quickly realised that, while a lot of the photos showed guys getting intimately close to other men's bums, there was too often no actual rimming going on between them.  There was a certain appeal in seeing guys kissing other men's buttocks and feigning sexual ecstasy as they extended their tongues provocatively towards each other's gaping crevices, but it was no substitute for seeing them enjoying the real thing.  I soon came to disregard what I came to think of as pale imitations and clicked my mouse instead on galleries showing men with their tongues firmly and enthusiastically wedged between butt-cheeks, especially those where the guy's mouth was positioned about three-quarters of the way down the cleft, right where the other man's covert orifice would be buried.  

Some of the guys' arse-cracks were smooth and hairless, and I guessed they'd been shaved for the camera.  Others, though, were in their natural state: bristling with a dark forest of hair just like Guy's had been, and I focussed my attentions on those.  I could almost imagine how it would feel to push my face into them: the hot moist air in the wiry tangle between the cheeks; the rich, enticing smell as I worked towards the anus; the delicious, raunchy taste of the puckered entrance.

I had to make do, though, with clicking from image to image of other men doing what I was so fascinated by.  This, nevertheless, brought its own pleasures and soon my cock was straining against my jeans as I stared at picture after picture of males rimming each other as hungrily as I had.  A guy squatting, his arse cleft wide open to show off a tight pink ring, his balls hanging low between his legs; a stubbled face homing in, tongue extended, mouth eager.  Another guy bending over, his crack too hairy to see his hole; a clean-shaven face behind him, lips puckered for a mouth-watering anal kiss.

Here was a whole hitherto unknown world of men – ordinary-looking blokes like me – who enjoyed licking other men's backsides and whose excitement as they did so was obvious from the engorged state of their cocks.  For some reason, it was a huge turn-on for me to see how hard their cocks were as they tongued other men's bums – knowing that they were so excited because of what they were doing, just as I had been.  I started rubbing my own erection through my jeans as I flicked from image to ever more captivating image.  

I'd never thought of other men's penises as being particularly attractive before: they were just inelegant-looking tubes of flesh which had a collective sameness about them which always seemed to draw the attention of their owners to how much more substantial my own was.  But looking at the cocks in the pictures, seemingly aroused to the point of near-climax from the thrill of same-sex rimming just as mine had been, I felt a new appreciation stirring inside me.  I marvelled at how thick and prominently veined their shafts were and how ripe and reddened their bulbous helmets were, fully exposed and slick with the ooze that dribbled from their slits.

I glanced behind me again, to check that Jake wasn't standing aghast in the doorway, and released my own throbbing cock from my fly.  Its size often made confined erections painful and, in the wrong circumstances, acutely embarrassing.

I started gently jerking my foreskin back and forth across my swollen cock-head as I marvelled at how uninhibited these guys were around one another: at how comfortable they seemed to be naked and aroused together, and at how open they were about masturbating themselves while they enjoyed such intimate contact with each other's backsides.  There was no shame or embarrassment between them, nor for that matter any evidence of affection: they were just pairs of guys smiling with enjoyment at the sensations they were experiencing without feeling any need to analyse or justify it.

I undid the button of my jeans and released my cock more fully from the folds of my boxer shorts, carefully extracting my bulky scrotum through the zipper and allowing my heavy nuts to flop over the crotch of my jeans.  I found a picture of two men enwrapped together in what the website called an "anal sixty-nine" and started masturbating myself in earnest, my large balls bobbing up and down with every stroke of my hand.  The men were side-by-side and had their heads between each other's legs, mouths eagerly exploring each other's butt-cracks.  I fumbled to see the next image, my other hand beating up and down the full length of my stiffened organ, and saw that the blonder of the two guys was tonguing his friend's tight-looking hole, deep within his moderately hairy arse-crack.  The next image showed the blond guy being rimmed: his almost hairless cleft wet with the darker guy's spit and his anal ring looking somewhat larger and a darker shade of red than his friend's.

I clicked forwards again and was pleased that the darker-haired guy was now straddling the blond, wanking himself while his friend rimmed him.  His bulbous cock-head was a dark purple colour and it was slick with the liquid which oozed from its slit.  Although smaller in size, its shape and wetness reminded me of Guy's cock.  Indeed, the picture I was looking at could have been the two of us in the hotel room: Guy crouching over my face, wanking himself while I lay underneath him with my mouth straining upwards to tongue his hole.

The next picture showed the darker-haired guy's cock in close-up, fully aroused by what was happening between his legs and with his balls slapping against the blond guy's nose.

The next was taken from behind him, showing the blond's mouth pressing upwards into his hairy cleft, his tongue reaching forwards for its prize.  I remembered how it had felt to be with Guy like that: the humid heat between his buttocks, the powerful odour within, the acrid taste of his anus.

My hand was making rapid slapping noises as it worked my cock and my balls were thumping against the top of my jeans as they bobbed around in my distended scrotum, but I no longer cared.

I fumbled onto the next picture and saw that the darker-haired guy was climaxing.  Thick strings of white semen sprayed from his cock as he seemed to press his arse down onto his friend's face as hard as he could.

His face was a surprised grin.  Like he hadn't realised how good this would feel and had been caught unawares by his orgasm.  His expression said, "Wow!  Watch me go!"  And his cock was spraying like it hadn't been touched in a month.

I wondered if Guy had been grinning while I'd rimmed him.

And with that thought, my own cock caught me by surprise and sprayed streams of cum across the monitor, desk and keyboard.  I kept wanking it, unable to stop, astonished at how powerful and copious my orgasm was.  I pumped myself until the gobs of liquid splattering onto the desk subsided and the feelings of intense pleasure I'd experienced dulled and waned.

I mopped up my semen and then, hearing Jake on the stairs, tucked my softening cock with some difficulty back into my jeans.  I was deleting my browser history as he bounded into the room, thankfully oblivious to the sharp, acrid smell left by what his father had released just moments earlier.

===

Next story: Bedtime Stories

===



Guilty Pleasures



Disclaimer: This is is a work of erotic fiction written for the entertainment of adults. All characters are fictional and adult. This story is authorized for posting at www.literotica.com and may be downloaded or printed for individual consumption. Publication on any other site or in any other form without the author's consent is strictly prohibited and will result in some seriously shitty karma. 

Author's Note: This story takes place at D-Man's Comic Emporium, the setting of the previous story Adolescent Fantasies. The stories are independent, however, and reading one is not necessary to understand the other. 

* * * * *

Wanda Williams breathed a sigh of relief as she checked her watch. 9:56 am. She had made it on time. Punctuality was important. It would be so rude to be late when Daniel had been so kind to meet her 2 hours before the comic shop even opened.

She checked herself in the mirror. Not that she was flirting with Daniel--the young man was 12 years her junior after all--but she did like to look nice and her soft red hair had a way of working its way out of its scrunchy. She tucked back a few errant locks, smiled winsomely at her reflection, then left her car and entered D-Man's Comic Emporium.

Wanda had to admit she was starting to enjoy her Sunday morning visit to the comic shop. She wasn't here for her own pleasure, of course. It was maternal duty that brought her here each Sunday to pre-approve her son's reading material. But she had to admit she took a guilty pleasure from reading the four-color adventures every Sunday. They were a lot like soap operas, really, if you looked past the superpowers and spandex.

Wanda chuckled at the irony of her newfound enjoyment. Her attitude this morning was a far cry from what it had been the first time she had come here four months ago. She had been seriously pissy, determined to have the place shut down. All that over a nipple. Wanda smiled and shook her head. All the stress of the divorce had made her a little nuts.

Of course, she did have to protect Cameron from inappropriate material especially if he was to have any hope of not growing up to be a philandering asshole like his father. He was only 14, after all. He was hardly at a stage in his life where he needed to be seeing breasts or some of the other naughty things in some of the comics. She was within her rights to be upset. But it had been foolish to blame Daniel. He had ended up being quite responsible about the whole thing. He had apologized profusely for selling her son the offensive comic and she had calmed down.

He had a very calming voice, really. That was her first sign that he was trustworthy. He explained to her that, had he realized the comic in question contained offensive material, he never would have sold it to a minor. The problem was that the publishers had abandoned the Comics Code Authority seal so there was no uniform mark of what was and wasn't suitable for minors. He tried, of course, to screen them himself but there were so many titles that sometimes one or two slipped through the cracks.

At some point in the conversation--she wasn't sure when--Wanda had an epiphany. It wasn't this nice businessman's responsibility to screen her son's entertainment--it was hers.

Once she realized this, the solution was obvious. She didn't quite remember if she had thought of it first or Daniel, but they both agreed that the ideal solution was for Wanda to review the content of any comics Cameron might buy before Daniel sold them to him. Daniel had even been so kind as to let her come by Sunday mornings after church before the shop opened so they wouldn't be disturbed. He really was quite reasonable about the whole situation and Wanda had gained a new respect for the young man. Owning his own business before the age at 24 was quite impressive, really. He was a great role model for her young son.

"Hello Wanda," grinned Daniel once he had opened the door. His dark eyes were bright and mischievous as always. She had mistaken his grins for mockery at first but now she realized it was just his cheerful nature. He was genuinely happy to see her and always glad to help.

"Hello Daniel," she said as she stepped inside and Daniel locked the door behind her. "I wanted to thank you again for letting me do this before you open. It's so nice of you to give me your full attention."

"I appreciate the help, really," he said. "You're doing me a favor. I've got such a large stock and I don't have enough confidence in my few employees to screen everything for suitability. If I can tell other parents that I only sell their children comics pre-approved by an upstanding member of the community like yourself, they'll feel more comfortable letting their kids visit my shop and I'll make a better profit! It's definitely a win-win situation!"

"Well, it's refreshing to see that kind of attitude," she said, eyes sparkling at the young man. His scruffiness, while slovenly at first glance, had become somewhat endearing. She was really starting to enjoy his company, perhaps more so than was really proper--but there was no harm in it.

She followed him to the lounge area of the spacious comics shop filled with tables, couches, and chairs where customers could read or groups could engage in role playing games. Just like every Sunday, there were two large stacks of comic books on the glass coffee table, both new and used. One stack was for her, the other for Daniel.

They sat side by side on the over stuffed couch, far enough apart that decorum was maintained but close enough that they could show each other questionable material and discuss it. Wanda took the latest issue of the Batgirl from the top of her stack and began reading. Daniel had learned which comics she secretly enjoyed and always put one of them on the top of her stack. He was very thoughtful.

Wanda could feel the young man occasionally glancing at her as they read and she wondered briefly if it was appropriate. Still, she did have very nice legs and she took a guilty pleasure from the young man admiring them. She uncrossed and recrossed them. There was no harm in it, really.

She finished the next comic more quickly, finding nothing objectionable in either and went on to the third. The cover of this one was odd. It was made by a small independent publisher with a high gloss paper but there was no clear image of superheroes or villains. Instead, there was a garish display of color, shades of purple and black and yellow in bold swooshes and dizzying swirls. Wanda couldn't help staring at it, although her eyes could find no purchase anywhere. She had seen something like it before but she couldn't quite remember.

"I...can't ...see it," she said.

The calming voice of Daniel came to her rescue. 

"Just relax, Wanda. It's a special 3-dimensional cover. You just have to relax, let your mind drift...just relax, Wanda. Relax and you will see it. It will all be clear very soon. Your eyes unfocus, your mind opens, your imagination awakes and you will paint your own story. All your secret, naughty dreams, all your guilty pleasures: They write the story. You go to a place where nothing is real; there is only the fantasy, only the adventure..."

Wanda sighed. She could see it now with her unfocused eyes. A vision of herself: wild, beautiful, sensual. A vision of herself clad in purple with black and gold. Defiant, unruly, playing by her own rules. She was never afraid to use sex and violence to achieve her goals. She was The Vigilante Vixen!

"Tell me your story," Daniel prompted.

"My name is Wanda Williams," she said, her voice low and sultry and cynical. "I once believed. I once believed in order. I once believed in righteousness. I was so naive."

"I was the first woman ever to be elected mayor of the city. I was going to clean the streets of drugs and crime, not just making token arrests of small time thugs but also going after the organization, those wealthy men working behind closed doors to profit off the degradation of the city. I had discovered that virtually all the money from criminal activity in the city was flowing into the portfolios of the heads of 5 large corporations and that the CEOs of these companies formed a secret order called The PALM. 

Unfortunately, I didn't discover how deep their influence in city government was until it was too late. They had scrutinized my investigation from the beginning. When I was on the verge of finding the evidence I needed to blow the lid off the whole mess, the PALM decided to take me out.

They drugged me out of my mind--turns out my personal assistant was in their pocket from the beginning--and then they administered this experimental aphrodisiac. For 8 hours I was reduced to a raving sex maniac. With cameras rolling, they presented me with prostitutes, both male and female, lobbyists I had worked with, even farm animals and Republicans. I let them all fuck me, begged them to, and then screamed out for more.

The press was merciless. Everyone abandoned me, including my husband. The lobbyists, all of them on the PALMs payroll, testified before the city council that I had abused my office for them in exchange for sexual favors and drugs. I was impeached and disgraced. Everyone expected me to go curl up in a corner and die of shame.

But I didn't. 

I took to the streets. The very wave of crime and decadence I had sought to purge from my city became my sanctuary, my sanatorium, my womb. The whores and junkies welcomed me into their society. If any of them recognized me from my previous glory, they were respectful enough not to mention it. There is no more polite society than that shared by those with nothing left to loose.

But despite the welcome of the ravel of the street, I did not become one of them. I did not give in to despair. I did no loose that fire in my belly. I stoked it and fed it with my all-consuming dream--a dream of vengeance!

The universe loves irony. In bringing about my downfall, the PALM had given me the tools of my revenge. Perhaps they didn't foresee the side effects. Perhaps they didn't care, thinking they had dropped me so low that I would be forever impotent. But if they thought that I was a bitch to deal with when I was mayor, it was only because they had no idea what sort of bitch was going to rise from my ashes.

They had taken everything, but they took too much. Along with my reputation, they had taken my sense of shame, my mores, my inhibitions. Really, it was this more than anything the drugs gave me that is the root of my power. There is no depth to which I wont sink in my quest for vengeance.

Beyond this, the drugs physically changed me. The randiness subsided enough that I could think clearly, but it never truly stopped. It tends to build up if I go to long without a good tumble and I go a little crazy--not that I let it build up very often. I don't have to. Not only am I always horny, I have an almost supernatural seductiveness. No one, man or woman, can resist my come-ons for long. Once they give into my seduction, they seem to give their will to me. After a good fuck, my victim can't help but tell me anything I want to know, do anything I tell them to do. It doesn't last, but I've learned to capitalize on my afterglow influence.

The final power the drugs gave me might have been intentional. I had an absolute perfect memory of what they did to me, one that replayed in my head over and over in my darkest hour. But as I recovered, I found I could stretch my memory back further. With a little practice, I could recall every document I ever read about the PALM.

Armed with these abilities, I began my war against the PALM. Combining my photographic memory and my ability to recruit temporary assistants, I soon found ways to siphon off cash and equipment from the supply lines that fed the organization. With these resources, I financed my underground lair. Once I had that, I was ready to make my presence known.

I needed a new identity. Mayor Williams was weak. She was naive. And now she was dead. The new Wanda was strong, seductive, and deadly. 

I decided to take on the role of a costumed vigilante. I made my self a cloak of black and dark purple to help me blend in with the shadows. Beneath the cloak, I chose an outfit that would best capitalize on my seductive powers: Knee-high dark purple boots with crotch-crushing steel toes and spiked heels, a purple and gold bustier to display my supernaturally seductive flesh to my victims and a G-string, easily removed, with a gold-embroidered head of a hungry she-fox guarding my hungry, will-consuming cunt! To conceal my identity, I made a purple vixen-eared cowl, announcing to my prey just what kind of horny, vicious beast hunted them.

The PALM had used my sexuality as a weapon against me. Now that weapon was in my hands and I was ready to turn it against them. I am the Vigilante Vixen!" 

Wanda fell silent, save for her hard, impassioned breathing as she felt the raw power that her fantasy gave her. 

"Good, Wanda, goood," came Daniels guiding voice. "In the weeks that we've been meeting, The Vigilante Vixen has sprung from your subconscious desires. Your imagination has given her form and created this incredible fantasy. Now, at last Wanda, you are ready to live the fantasy."

From under the sofa, Daniel retrieved a large flat box. He opened it.

"Here is your costume, Wanda. Put it on and live your fantasy. Put it on and become The Vigilante Vixen."

There it was: The deep purple cloak, the fox-eared cowl, the boots, the gloves, the gold-trimmed bustier, the G-string with the golden head of a vixen at the crotch.

It was time. Time to leave behind the weakness that was Wanda. Time to discard the rules that caged her.

"Now remember, Wanda, when you hear me say Narration you must listen carefully. The narrator will tell you where you are and what you need to do. Only by listening to the narrator can you live your fantasy. You want to live your fantasy, don't you Wanda?"

"Yes," she agreed. "Live my fantasy."

"Good, Wanda, good. When I count to three, your fantasy will begin. One. Two. Three. Narration: Wanda is alone in the Vixen's Lair. She has received information that the Yum Yum Candy Company warehouse is a front for The PALM's designer drug operation. She has decided to investigate in the guise of her alter ego, The Vigilante Vixen. End Narration."

As the narrator fell silent, the comic shop faded. Wanda was alone. Alone in her secret lair. And here was her costume. Here was her secret identity, her tools of power and vengeance.

She stood and began to undress with determination and the growing excitement that she always felt when taking on her secret identity. She stripped away her mundane wardrobe, dropping it to the floor of The Vixen's Lair. When she discarded her bra, her nipples rose in the cool air of her underground base. The strange subterranean echoes sounded a bit like the appreciative exclamation of a horny young man, but she knew she was alone in her lair.

Naked, she went to her costume. First she took the vixen-head G-string and covered her red-thatched snatch, slipping the string between her naked buttocks. It felt so sexy! 

"Soon, my hungry darling, soon," she whispered to her pussy, giving it an indulgent stroke through the thin fabric. The boots were next, the soft leather encasing her legs, making her feel powerful, the high heels enabling her to tower over her enemies.

The bustier pushed her sizable bosom up and out, displaying it to full effect. The drugs that had transformed her were making her so horny! How long had it been?

"If I don't get me a nice hard fucking soon, I'm gonna loose it," she muttered to herself, then smirked. "But it won't be long now. No one says no to The Vixen."

Again, she patted the golden head of the she-fox that adorned her snatch. She put about her shoulders the deep purple cloak that would allow her to go unseen among the dark places in the city, pulled on her purple gauntlets and finally, she put on the purple fox-eared cowl. She was The Vigilante Vixen.

"Narration," said a voice outside of time and space. The Vigilante Vixen listened attentively.

"The Vigilante Vixen leaves her lair and the dark night embraces her. She makes her way unseen to the Yum Yum Candy Company warehouse down by the waterfront. She finds it watched by a lone security guard. The Vixen smiles. Using her powers she can easily conquer the guard and enlist him in her search for information on The PALM's operation. End Narration."

Wanda stalked the security guard through the shadow-strewn warehouse, hidden inside her cloak. He was a bearded young man, somewhat portly, and quite unsuspecting that he was The Vixen's prey.

He was behind some boxes now, out of sight of the security cameras, and Wanda saw the perfect moment to strike. She leapt out in front of him, tossing back her cloak to reveal her supernaturally seductive skin. She confronted the defenseless armed man with her smoldering gaze and her creamy, freckled breasts.

"Hey, you! You're not supposed to be here!" the guard stammered.

"I'm not?" she asked with sweet mock-innocence, taking one deliberate step towards him in her high-heeled boots. "You want me to leave?"

She slowly licked her lips as she swiveled her pelvis so that the vixen head at her crotch seemed to wink at the helpless guard.

"I...I..." he stammered.

"Oh but Daniel," she said, reading his name from his uniform, "I don't want to leave just now. I want to stay and get to know you better. I'm sure we could be such good friends."

As she spoke, she continued to advance on him slowly until her nipples nuzzled his chest. She reached up with one gloved finger and stroked him from brow to collar. The young guard shuddered. He was hers.

"I'm under strict orders not to..." he lamely struggled, only to have his half-hearted protest cut off by Wanda's smoldering kiss, her tongue probing and possessing him.

The Vixen deliberately took the finger tip of one gauntlet in her teeth and pulled it slowly from her hand, letting it drop to the floor, then she playfully scratched the panting guard's beard with her long nails.

"You want to be my friend, don't you Daniel?"

The guard swallowed and nodded.

"Good, Daniel, gooooood," she breathed, reaching down to stroke his crotch and feeling that he indeed very much wanted to be her friend. She gave a low, gentle laugh and started undoing his pants.

"I can be very nice to my friends, Daniel. Very, very nice..."

"Th-there's a couch in the file room," he managed.

"Oh how thoughtful of you, Daniel!" praised the Vixen. "I'm going to have to be very, very nice to you!"

The guard led her to the file room, struggling to retrieve his keys from his unfastened pants and let her in.

"There's the couch," he said stupidly.

"Yes, I see," said the Vixen, "And the file cabinets with all the records." 

The guard suffered a moment of clarity.

"Hey, you're not going to..."

The Vixen silenced him with a finger on his lips and five on his cock.

"We both know what I'm going to do, Daniel. I'm going to give you a fucking that you are never going to forget! Nothing else matters, now, does it?"

The guard dropped his trousers, enthralled.

"No. Nothing else matters."

The Vixen pushed him forcefully down on the couch, released the clasp of her cloak then crouched and licked him from collar to eyebrow. He trembled.

"Oh Baby!" he exclaimed.

The Vixen stood, hooked her index fingers into her G-string and with a rip, released the velcro that held it in place. It fluttered gently to the ground, baring her hungry, auburn-thatched snatch.

"Oh lordy-lordy-lordy!" exclaimed the guard.

The Vixen growled low in her throat, then in one fluid motion straddled the man there on the couch, his member erect before before her pussy, begging to be consumed by it. She pressed it against her hot, moistening slit, teasing her clitoris with the tip.




Guilty Pleasures



"Oooohoho!" he groaned.

"Mmmmm" the Vixen exclaimed, reveling in the sense of power as the chemicals that had transformed her released themselves into her bloodstream in the form of raw sexual energy. "Oh Daniel, I'm going to fuck you so hard!"

"Oh God Yes!" he cried out.

"You're glad I'm going to fuck you, aren't you Daniel," she said, smiling as she drew her middle fingers slowly up the sides of his hard prick," "You'll do anything for me if I fuck you, won't you?"

"Anything," pledged the guard, "Anything!"

"Oh Daniel, you are so fucked!" she exclaimed. Then she rocked her hips, pushed the head of his cock to the mouth of her cunt and thrust, engulfing him with a wet 'shlup' and a satisfied grunt.

"God I love my job!" exclaimed the security guard. With a hard cock in her, The Vixen was beyond words. Any vestige of Wanda was washed away in the torrent of lust. She was an animal, a sexual predator in full rut. She howled.

The man beneath her stared in wide-eyed awe, filled with ecstasy and more than a little fear at the beast that had been unleashed. As she rocked back and forth on his cock, rubbing her clit along his shaft, her hands slid up her body to clasp her full breasts within her purple and gold costume. She licked her lips, tossed her cowled head backed an howled once again, squeezing her breasts roughly.

The Vixen fell forward, her breasts pressing against the guard's chest, her brow to his. Her feral eyes smoldered and she growled. Her pelvis pummeled him: Bam! Sok! Pow!

The guard groaned beneath her onslaught. He was close---close to being hers completely! Arching her back, she went into a slow grind, swirling his cock inside of her as a low, bestial sound started deep in her throat. Both the sound and the grinding grew steadily in intensity and The Vixen slowly rolled her head until she gazed with golden eyes at the distant rafters.

She howled her triumphant Vixen howl as the guard exploded beneath her, gasping as he gave up both his load of spunk and what little remained of his free will. One more helpless victim had succumbed to The Vixen's lust. She stroked the panting guards face, smiling down at him as he went limp inside her. 

"You are mine now, Daniel," she purred. "Mine, body and soul."

"Yes," he agreed. "I am yours."

"And you'll do anything for me, won't you Daniel?"

"Anything!" he pledged. "Anything for you, Mistress! I would die for you!"

"Good boy," she said, patting him on the head, then dismounting. "Show me where they keep the most vital documents."

The guard went to the file cabinet but rather than open it, he pushed it aside, opened an air vent that was revealed and retrieved a box. It looked like an old pizza box but The Vigilante Vixen knew looks could be deceiving. It was really a lock box, of course, with documents vital to her campaign against the PALM.

She took the box and smiled at her enthralled minion. His employers would no doubt kill him for helping her, but that was no concern of hers. Her blood may have been hot, but her heart was cold.

"Narration, said a voice out of time and space. The Vixen hears the approach of half a dozen of the PALMs enforcers. She tells the security guard to cover her exit and he gladly obeys, coming out of the office with guns blazing at his former fellows as The Vixen takes to the shadows and returns to her lair. She removes her costume, cleans herself, and dresses to once again become Wanda Williams, disgraced former-mayor, to plan and plot until the time is right for The Vigilante Vixen to strike again. End Narration."

The Vixen was in her lair, her mission completed, her latest victim no doubt a bloody corpse, hopefully having taken down a few of his compatriots on his way out. He had been a good lay, but all that mattered to her was lust and vengeance. Regretfully, she removed her costume, her true identity, for only as The Vixen was she truly alive. She sponged off the sweat and effluvium of the nights work and put on her dress.

"Narration," said the omnipotent voice of the universe, "Wanda closes her eyes. She is in a place out of time, out of space. She is floating in a place of pure truth. The Vigilante Vixen is only a story, a fantasy that she indulges in. She has spent an hour reviewing comic books with Daniel, the nice comic shop owner. She likes Daniel. She trusts Daniel. She enjoys coming to his shop every Sunday morning. She will come again next Sunday, promptly at ten, and will never suspect that The Vigilante Vixen is anything other than a comic book that she enjoys but does not want her son to read. This is Truth. The rest is fantasy. When I count to three, Wanda will open her eyes, having closed them to rest after all her reading. One...Two...Three. End Narration."

Wanda opened her eyes. The stack of comics before her had been completely inverted. She must have finished the stack. Funny how they all seemed to blur in her memory after the first couple, but she didn't really have time to read all of them thoroughly. A cursory glance was sufficient to detect anything objectionable. It would stand out, like that nasty one about The Vigilante Vixen. Wanda blushed, remembering the steamy sex scene. That security guard had looked a lot like Daniel--or maybe she was just projecting since they had the same name. After all, Daniel was real; the guard was fantasy.

"Thank you so much for helping me screen my stock," Daniel said, startling her out of her reverie. "I'll make sure to keep the Vigilante Vixen behind the counter, along with the others we discussed."

The young man seemed a bit flushed, almost glowing, and Wanda felt some strange emotion she couldn't name.

"Oh, um, you're welcome, really," she said, "It..it helps me know that my son isn't exposed to anything immoral and, well, actually...I kind of like some of them. Not that I'd ever admit that to most people."

She blushed. She told herself she should get out of there before she did something inappropriate. Besides, she had to pick up Cameron.

"Well, I...really should go." she said. "Cameron..."

"Oh, yes, of course," he said. "I need to open up the place. Not that I get a lot of customers on Sundays, but the gamers like to hang out here and it keeps them off the streets."

"You're a good man, Daniel," she said, smiling.

"Oh, I don't know about that," he said. "But I do what I can."

She held out her hand. It seemed so...insufficient. But he took it and shook it with a grin that somehow made her blush, though she told herself it was innocent enough.

"I'll see you next Sunday then," she said.

"I look forward to it," he replied.

He reluctantly released her hand and she hurried out of the store. 

It was a beautiful day and Wanda felt young and alive. She took in a deep breath and stretched before strolling to her car. All the tension pent up over the past week, over the months since the divorce, seemed to have melted away. She giggled girlishly, somewhat embarrassed that she had become such a comic book fan. Maybe she would come with Cameron later that afternoon. She would increase his allowance so that he could buy more of them. And if she happened to read them afterwards, what of it?

But in all honesty, the ones she enjoyed the most were the ones she read with Daniel on Sunday morning. Those she would never let Cameron buy. They were just far too intense. Maybe when he was older. She didn't know if she would ever be all right with him reading things like The Vigilante Vixen. So much gratuitous sex and violence! What sort of warped mind came up with things like that? Still, she couldn't deny that she enjoyed the serial. But she was an adult. She had earned a few guilty pleasures.



Guilty Pleasures



Today I came to the realization that I am not a normal woman. But in a world where normal can be highly subjective, I think I'm okay. See people have their own personal demons, drugs, alcohol, porn. My demon is rape, pure and not so simple. Most people believe that rape is about sex and that's where the misconception lies. Rape is about control period, nothing more, nothing less. The sex is irrelevant. You may ask yourself how an attractive and educated woman would allow herself to be brutalized and degraded in such a horrid fashion. Simply put, I can't help myself nor can I explain how being humiliated, abused and dragged through the depths of hell actually benefits me more than years of intensive therapy. It's like, I desire, no I need to be abused, to feel as if I'm unloved. The humiliation only serves to intensify the need, the craving to feel like I am nothing and to my rapist, I am exactly that. Nothing. Just a warm body to sate his need to wield his raging control. I don't expect you to understand, or even sympathize because I have trouble understanding this addiction.

Instead of me trying to explain to you, I'll share an experience with you. Come take a trek through the darkness of my mind.

It's thundering outside, the rain zigzags down my windowpane. Rocking back and forth in my wicker chair, I tap my telephone on my thigh, fighting this addiction.

"I will not call. I will not call." I whisper out loud, trying to convince myself that I won't give in. Apparently, the addiction prevails yet again and I make the call. This is the beauty of this arrangement, I never know who the person will be and only have a vague idea as to the when and where. 

The phone only rings one time before a somewhat familiar voice picks up.

"Yes?" His abrupt tone adds a brutish edge to his already baritone voice.

"I-I", my voice falters, I mean it's hard calling to have someone violate you.

"Five seconds to state your purpose." His tone eliminates any hesitation I may have been feeling.

"I need to make an appointment." The words rush out of my mouth taking with them any moisture I may have had.

"Number." I quickly repeat my identification code. This service uses no names and payment is made via p.o. box.

"I will call back in five minutes with confirmation." CLICK.

These are always the longest five minutes in my lifetime, that's when doubts rear their ugly heads, making me question my addiction. The sound the phone ringing startles me, causing a cold beads of sweat to roll down my spine.

"H-hello?"

"Appointment confirmed."

"Time and destination please."

"Within this week. The Noble Hotel. The room has been reserved and the charges will be added to you bill. You may check in as early as tonight." CLICK.

My hands tremble as I hang up the phone. Blindly I begin to pack, the anticipation bubbling deep inside of me.

One thing I look forward to is trying pick out who my rapist will be. I never know who my violator will be. I remember once, I was returning home and there was this young, red-head boy sitting on my steps. He couldn't have been more than eighteen at the most, so naturally I dismissed him. That is until I went to unlock the door and was shoved in by this red-headed manchild. Granted he was young, but he was hung like a mule and left be bruised and sore for weeks. And I loved every painful moment!

Once I checked into my hotel room, I decided to visit the bar for a quick drink.

"Is the stool taken?"

"Only if you sit down." His voice was pleasant, smooth almost. Almost as smooth as the fine Italian suit he adorned his slightly muscular body. Smiling, I slid on the stool and ordered a rum and coke.

I gazed over at my new drinking companion, trying to pick up on his vibe. Definitely not my violator. 

"So are you from around here?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, sipping on my drink. 

"Oh, forgive the intrusion, I just wanted to know if you were from around here because I'm not and I was curious about the local attractions."

"Oh, no problem." Absently I mentioned a few hot spots for him to check out, trying not to be too obvious in my attempts to get rid of him. It wouldn't do to be grabbed in the bar in front of this gentleman. He seems like the knight-in-shining-armour type, just waiting to rescue the dasmel in distress. He continued to drone on and on about his vaction, his life, etc. never picking up on my now obvious hints. I started tapping my hard plastic room key on the counter.

"Well I hope you enjoy our fair city. I myself am going to rest. Have a good night." I said abruptly, marching out of the bar. 

I stripped off my cotton sundress and wrapped my braids up in a bun. Turning the shower, I let the warm water wash over my smooth brown sugar skin, my fingers idly trace over the cresent shaped scar above my left nipple. A nice reminder from an overzealous rapist. Goosebumps cover my body as I relieve that horrible night, involuntary shudders causes my body to blissfully tremble at the mere thought of what happened that night. I was so lost in my thoughts as I floated back into the room, slipping on my cotton nightshirt before crawling between the sheets. The instant my head hits the pillow, my heavy lids close, allowing me to slip into darkness.

"Wake up, bitch!" Rough hands yank the covers off of me, a bright flashlight blinds my still focusing eyes.

"Yeh bitch, you like flirting with muthafuckas and then leavin them, right bitch?" I couldn't think straight as I was hauled out of the bed and smashed against the wall. My slow response or lack thereof must have further infuriated my attacker. I vaguely saw his huge fist hurling at my face. I braced myself for the blow that surely was going to do some damage. However, he pulled his punch short and instead of possibly breaking my jaw, he slapped my face, making my head snap back.

"Answer me when I speak to you, understand?!" He shook my body so hard that my teeth began to rattle in my head.

"Y-yes..I-I understand." I felt something wet against the corner of my lip. The tip of my tongue confirmed my suspicions that the wetness was in fact blood. I could feel his hands roaming underneath my nightshirt and something snapped inside of me when I felt his fingers brush across the scar on my breast.

"Get off of me!" I screamed, my arms and legs swinging wildly. 

"Bitch!" he hissed as my foot came into contact with his thigh. He let go of my arms and I sprinted towards the door. Suddenly I was tackled to the ground like I was a quarterback trying to make a touchdown. 

"You really are gonna catch hell now, you fucking cunt!" he growled in my ear. Grabbing a handful of hair, he smashed my face against the floor, sending me into darkness.

"Wakey wakey lil girl." 

A cold splash of water brings me back to reality. I tried to bring my hand to my forehead to check for any lumps when I realized that my hands were tied behind my back and my ankles were tied to the bedposts.

"See, I was goin to be gentle until you decided that you wanted to be a hero. It would have been quick, easy and not that painful. Now it's gonna be long, hard and..well let's just say I hope you got a high tolerance for pain." he chuckled. 

The cold steel of his knife scraped my thighs as he sliced away my nightshirt.

"Well looks like I stumbled on a real beauty. Look at those tits..ooh mamma am I gonna love this." he crooned, licking his lips.

"Please..." I began to plead. Pleas that were immediately cut off by a strip of nightshirt being wadded up and shoved in my mouth.

"Silence." Just to emphasize his point, fleshy palms slap my breasts hard, leaving angry red handprints in their wake. I bit down against the cotton in my mouth, tears streaming down the side of my face as he continued to slap my breasts.

His laugh was sinister as he slowly dragged his knife down the center of my body, lightly flicking the point against my nipples, which immediately betrayed me by becoming erect. Seeing this made him laugh even more. To my utter shame, I could feel the swelling beginning between my legs, the thickening of my labia, the throb in my clitoris, the fluid trickling down to the cleft of my buttocks. I squeezed my eyes tightly when I felt the metallic coldness slip inside my womanly folds.

"My, my, my looks like somebody is enjoying this", he leaned close to my ear, "Your enjoying this aren't you? Look at how you're squirming. You're getting off on this aren't you, you sick bitch. You're a fuckin slut." He squeezed my breast hard, twisting my nipple. My muffled screams must have seem musical to his ears. His hands left my sore breasts and moved on to other areas to torment. The lucky recipient was my womanhood. 

He grabbed my vagina in his hand, clenching my labia in a vice-like grip. My legs bounced against the bed, trembling as the pain shot through my body. 

"Un-fucking-believable! You're gettin wetter! You are a disgusting slut!" 

The tears flowed freely down my face as he twisted my labia, the pain was incredible. Roughly he spread my puffy lips apart and flicked his thumb across my clit. My body didn't know how to react, one minute intense searing pain, then sweet pleasure. 

"Let's see what else you got lil lady." He cut the ties on my ankles and flipped me over on my stomach.

"Gat damn that's a pretty ass you got there. I need to get a better look at that." He took two of the pillows and propped my ass up. My body now shook uncontrollably. My ass was nearly virginal and I had a sinking feeling that that status was going to change.

Suddenly, ice was being rubbed against my bared backside.

"This is gonna be on ass whuppin you're gonna remember for a looong time." 

I didn't even have time to brace myself. The whallops from his thick leather belt crisscrossed against my ass with such speed that I couldn't tell when one blow landed from the breeze signaling the next one. I buried my face into the mattress letting it absorb my tears and screams. Apparently he wasn't satisfied with silence. He yanked my head back by my hair, snatching out the gag.

"I wanna hear you beg for me to stop." 

It was too late for me, for I was beyond words. I could only sob, my throat was raw from screams.

"See I was gonna stop whipping your ass, but since you don't want to listen..." his voice trailed off. I could hear the rustle of his clothes being shed. The weight of the bed shifted as he climbed on behind me. The throbbing pain in my ass distracted me from his probing finger pushing against the tight skin of my anus.

"Hmm..what do we have here...a slutty virgin...", he chuckled nastily, "don't worry mamma...big daddy's gonna take care real good care of that."

"P-Please..dear God...don't..." I hoarsly begged.

"Too late for that lil girl. Only thing that's gonna help you is prayer. 'Cuz I'm gettin ready to tear your ass apart." With no other warning, he spat on my nearly virginal asshole and pressed his bulbous head onward.

"Please! Please! DEAR GODDDDDDDD HELP MEEEEEE!" I screamed as I felt the tight ring of muscle give way to his thick member. His grip on my thighs tightened as he continued to push deeper inside. 

"That's right bitch! Ain't nobody gonna help you now! Fuck me your ass is tight!" he panted as he continued to violate my ass. Grabbing his belt, he began to lash my ass in sync with his strokes.

"Yeehaa! I'm gonna ride your into the sunset!" he laughed. Yanking his weapon out of my ass, he flipped me over and stradled my chest.

"Open your mouth cunt! Suck my dick clean!" he ordered, pushing his dick against my lips. He pinched my nose hard, forcing me to gasp for air through my mouth. As soon as my lips parted, he shoved his dick in my mouth, making me gagged.

"That's right you sick bitch, suck my dick real good and I damn sure better not feel any teeth or I'm really gonna fuck you up." 

I cried as he fucked my mouth, bruising my lips. He pulled out to slap me in the face, drawing blood this time. Rubbing his dick against my lip, he smeared blood all over my mouth and cheeks before ramming back in my mouth. The sounds of his balls smacking against my chin and his animalistic grunts drowned out the sound of my muffled cries.

"That's good enough lil girl. Now I'm gonna stick it to you real good mamma." 

He grabbed my legs, spreading them wide as he unceremoniously speared my pussy with his saliva and blood coated dick.

"Good lawd your pussy is hotter than a Los Vegas summer! I swear it's like fucking a vat of hot pudding, all soft and squishy!" He grunted as he moved back and forth. He looked deep in my eyes, seeing the fear and utter loathing and sneered.

"You hate me don't you, bitch? I know you do. I'm gonna make you hate me even more."

His strokes changed, as if he was searching for something. Every time he nearly pulled out, the edge of his flared cap scraped against my clit. It dawned on my all of a sudden what he meant by making me hate him even more. He was trying to make me orgasm.


"You don't have to do this...please..please...ohhhhh....nooo...d-don't...." My pleading soon turned into moaning as I was betrayed by every fiber of my being. I could feel my pussy melting around his dick.

"That's right...cum on my dick mamma...cum for Daddy..." he crooned, rubbing his thumb against my clit in small circles. Wetting his fingers with my juices, he slid his fingers inside my abused asshole. That was my utter undoing.

"NOOOOOOOO!" I cried as my body succumbed to the unwanted orgasm. My hips bucked against his driving him deeper inside of me. I couldn't help myself.

"Oh fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck meeeeee!" I chanted. I don't know if I was cursing my own weakness or begging for him to fuck me. Either way, he started pounding my spasming pussy with such speed and precision that I was coming again, even harder than before.

"Oh shit mamma...I'm gettin ready to bust!" he grunted, pulling out just in time to for me to feel the warm splatter of sperm hit my breasts, then my face as he climbed atop, jerking his dick, sending creamy strings flying across my face.

"Gat damn...gat damn..gat damn!" He climbed off of my chest and repositioned himself between my legs. I was unprepared for the attack of his hot tongue on my overly sensitive clit.

"Bitch you're gonna hate me forever..." I heard him mutter against my pussy. My legs wrapped around his head like earmuffs, hips wantonly humping his tongue. Soon I was teetering on the edge when he climbed up. 

"Don't worry mamma...you're gonna cum again for me..." He rubbing his dick against my clit and sure as he predicted, I was coming again. My cries of ecstasy was cut short by his hands choking me. I began to gasp for air, my body bucking beneath him out of fear and a sudden intensification of my orgasm. I have never came this hard before in life. The fear of dying must be the reason. As the orgasm subsided, he continued choking me, the last thing I remembered before passing out was him grunting as he came on my stomach.

I must have slept through the night because when I regained consciousness, the morning light filled my room. I rubbed my sore wrists, grateful that he freed them before he left. Gingerly I walked to the bathroom, my pussy and ass were still sore and tender from last night. I nearly cried when I peed. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Dried and crusty sperm flaked off my face. I stepped inside of the shower and began to wash away the remmanents of my attack. 

"Why good morning friend."

I was surprised to see the guy from the bar standing there.

"Oh, good morning." I murmured, adjusting the silk scarf hiding the bruising chain of fingerprints around my neck.

"It's a pleasure to see you again. I really meant to catch your name last night."

"Oh. I'm Kylie."

"Nice to meet you, again Kylie. I'm Brent."

"Such an odd name for an African-American male." I joked.

"Yes, I know. But I was lucky, my brothers are named Errol, Humphrey, and Fitzgerald."

"My goodness, you are the lucky one." I laughed, wincing slightly. My throat was still raw from last night.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, I think I might be catching a cold. I'll be fine."

"Mind if I walk you out to your car?"

"Not at all." I said, handing him my bag.

We made pleasant chit-chat until reaching my car. Like the gentleman that he was, Brent put my bag in the trunk and opened my door. Brent reached inside his bag and pulled out a gift wrapped box.

"I hope I'm not being too forward, but I was hoping that I would catch you before you left to give you a small token of my appreciation for taking mercy on an out of towner." Brent flashed a brilliant smile.

"Why, I don't know what to say Brent."

"Just say thank you and promise to keep in touch. My business card is inside."

"I will Brent. Take care." I waved goodbye as he strolled to his car. I carefully adjusted my seat, wincing as the pain from my ass shot through my body. Remembering his gift, I unwrapped the box. My mouth fell open when I looked inside. It was a round pillow with a note attached saying "I figured you might be needing this. Keep in touch mamma."

I stared at the note and laughed. I tucked his business card in the driver's vizor and pulled out of the parking lot.

I called Brent again, but that's another story....

And the addiction continues...without a cure in sight....

~Fin~

experimenting with a new subject matter...let me know if I should continue *smiles*



Guilty Pleasures



She had exploded in righteous anger. "Don't try and put the blame on me! I didn't come out there to have sex with you. I just came to say goodnight and you're the one that got all hard and sexed up and wanted to do it with me. And you know what, I would have let you. I would have let you fuck me because your hard cock felt good and I'm desperate for any kind of affection from you! Don't you understand? I wanted you to fuck me."

And then in a softer tone. "Well maybe you should try it sometime. You might like it." 

My daughter Tracie, now 18 going on 19, had just spewed these words at me after a heated argument. I was sitting in my favorite chair after leaving her bedroom following the argument, letting my mind wander, thinking of her accusations and remembering many of our times together. Her words stung and were still reverberating in my ears, taunting me into action. I had a lot to think about.

I should have slapped her, or beat her ass for talking to me that way. She wanted ME to fuck her, her dad? There was no doubt she looked gorgeous and had a terrific figure. And was it true I hadn't shown her much affection? Had I failed to be a loving and caring father?

Now she was 18, with only a couple of months remaining in her final year of high school. At the end of the summer she would be leaving home to start college. Sometimes I thought the time couldn't pass fast enough, just to get her out of the house, other times I felt pangs of guilt because I had missed most of her growing up years and now I wanted to make up for lost time.

I drifted back in time and recalled scenes of pleasurable interaction with her. I remembered when we were playing a silly game of 'catch and tell'. I think she and her friends made up the rules but it was kind of like playing tag. If you can catch the other person then they have to tell you a secret. I thought it was kind of stupid and obviously childish. I didn't particularly want to play but heck, she is my daughter and it's a father's parental duty to entertain and do things you don't want to do. I was pleased that she even wanted to play with me as her friend so to speak rather than treating me like a parent that is from another planet. It's nice when your kids trust you enough to let you participate in their world. 

It was my turn to catch her and she ran through the house as fast as she could to get away from me. She screeched and screamed as she ran as fast as she could, her long hair flying side to side, her arms all akimbo and moving like miniature windmills as she sped around corners and through rooms at full tilt. She was much quicker and more nimble than I was. I came close to getting her a few times but each time she managed to duck under my arms or slip out of my grasp and get away, as though she was greased. 

At some point I realized I was having fun, enjoying myself in a freedom I hadn't experienced in a long time, and it wasn't because of the game itself. The more I touched and grabbed at her the more I was stimulated and excited about chasing her down. She became the prize that I wanted but there was never a conscious thought about molesting her or physically abusing her whenever I eventually caught her. I assume I am no different than most men, the thrill is in the chase, in the attempt to capture. There is some truth in the old joke that says you wouldn't know what to do if you did catch her. I just became aware, as a man becomes aware, of her legs, her slender hips and her ass as she ran in front of me. I wanted what she seemed to offer.

It probably took about ten minutes before she made a mistake. She had gone into the bedroom and was trying to dodge around me when I was able to wrap my left arm securely around her waist. She squealed in frustration as I pulled her to me and enclosed her with both arms so there was no escape. 

We were both panting and a little exhausted from the exertion of running around the house. I backed up to the bed and fell over backward onto it, pulling her down on top of me. It wasn't hard to do because she was a pretty lightweight kid. I was uncomfortable with my legs hanging over the end so I scooted further up onto the bed moving her with me as I wiggled myself up higher. When I got to where I wanted to be I put my legs together and let her lay full length on top of me. She apparently didn't think there was anything unusual about it as she made herself comfortable, catching her breath. 

My adrenaline was racing and it felt wonderful to hold my skinny little prize close to me. Her hair fell on my face and my hand automatically caressed her from the small of her back up to her shoulder blades and under her hair to the nape of her neck. I didn't want to move as we listened to each other's breath slowly become more regular. 

I became conscious of her weight on me. I loosened my bear hug on her and she promptly raised herself up on straightened arms, bending upward from the waist. 

Several buttons on the bottom part of her blouse had popped loose from my grabbing and pulling at her as I chased and tried to catch her. The blouse wasn't on straight now and the bottom of it had ridden up to the bottom of her ribcage. The lower buttons had all come undone and the blouse flapped open almost to the top of her chest. Her little breasts were like two beacons, pink, swollen hard, and inviting. They were still quite small, protruding only an inch or so from her chest but they pulled at my eyes like powerful magnets. 

To my great dismay I started getting a little hard. I didn't know if she could feel it or not. I held my breath and hoped she didn't notice and wouldn't say anything like asking what was it was. She just lay there on top of me being very still and quiet, breathing hard.

My wife and I had recently been discussing the need to get her a training bra since her breasts were becoming very noticeable under her t-shirts and blouses. She was quickly changing from a child to a young adult before our eyes. 

"You owe me a secret now," I said, trying desperately to find something else focus on.

"I know, I'm thinking of one to tell you."

A minute of silence followed and I wished she would hurry up before I lost control of myself. "I think we should get up now sweetie".

"I have my secret ready but it really isn't a secret."

"What is it then?" I asked.

"It's something I know, but you already know it too."

"Ok, why don't you just tell me. We can still count it as a secret if you want to."

"Well, uh....um... I don't know if I should say but, uh..., I can tell you are hard. There! That's my secret."

My mind started racing. I immediately rolled her off me then and sat on the edge of the bed with my back to her. I knew I had to talk to her whether I wanted to or not and I had to do it immediately. 

"We need to have a serious talk sweetheart. About what just happened, ok?"

"Sure. Are you mad at me? I didn't do anything wrong."

"No, I'm not mad at you honey, and you didn't do anything wrong but you need to know a few things about the facts of life and the birds and the bees. You know what I'm saying here?" 

So we had a long talk where I did most of the talking. I could tell she didn't really want to discuss the birds and bees because she thought she knew what it was all about or because she was embarrassed discussing the subject with her father. I know I was embarrassed when my own Dad broached the subject with me. I explained the whole process of intercourse, reproduction, male/female relationships and the inherent dangers of a daughter and father relationship when sexual emotions get out of control. I don't think she understood much of that part. She interrupted me a couple of times to inform me she already knew that stuff from her health class. I finished by telling her in a nice way that because she was my daughter I couldn't allow what had just happened to happen again. 

Her head was hanging when I finished talking and she didn't look at me directly. "But doesn't it mean you like me a lot when you get big? When it happens to the boys at school they say it means they like you. Is that true? I think it is cool when you get hard because then I know you love me a lot too. What's wrong with that?"

Her innocent comments made me squirm with excitement. Listening to her talk I became hard again but I wasn't comfortable. It wasn't easy but I explained how the boys were trying to manipulate the girls and the dangers involved. I explained to her again that love and sex are not the same thing and that I could love her very much without getting hard.

Tracie sat on the edge of the bed lost in her own little world. She buttoned up her blouse and didn't say a word. What was going on in her mind? She seemed to be staring off into space. Was she confused, upset, angry? From her reaction and comments I knew I had awakened something sexually in her.

"I shouldn't have done that sweetheart. I'm sorry. Lets go get something to eat ok?" 

We went to the kitchen and after eating a sandwich for lunch we were standing at the sink putting the dishes away. I hugged her to try to convey to her that all was ok, that I loved her. I didn't want her to think I blamed her for what had happened, or I that I was angry with her or anything. I patted her back and ruffled her hair as she looked up at me. Then she said those words that tear the heart out of every father; "I love you daddy." 

"I love you too sweetheart, very, very much."

I was a little concerned but I didn't say anything more to her. I wanted to instruct her not to tell her mother about the game and her 'secret' but I knew that was risky. Most of the time as soon as I said not to do something, it was the very thing she went and did. So I kept my mouth shut and prayed a silent prayer that I she wouldn't say anything. After a while it became apparent she hadn't said anything to her mother and probably was not going to. We, or at least I, had my 'secret' intact for the time being.

For a few days my mood swings were wild ups and downs. I knew I had teetered on the edge of being in big trouble because deep down in my inner core I had a very strong desire to have sex with her and I wanted to be the one to 'teach' her about sex. I alternated between disgust and loathing for myself for wanting to have sex with her, and the desire to raise her with moral values, to be the best father she could ever have. I chose to bury my desire for sex with my daughter and the only way I knew how to do that was to suppress the origin of those desires. 

Shortly after this incident with Tracie my life as I knew it began to fall apart. For much of the next five years or so my memory is a blur, particularly in regards to Tracie. Unfortunately I just didn't have the time to devote to her because my wife's illnesses suddenly became terminal and demanded my entire attention.

She became bedridden and lost all control of her bodily functions, including the ability to feed herself. We didn't have health insurance and we both agreed that I could probably do a much better and more humane job than the professional caregivers, and at less cost. So I quit my work to spend full time looking after her at home. 

Trying to raise Tracie at the same time was very difficult and as a result my close relationship with her changed. Our relationship became more than a little stormy as she grew through her teenage years. I became very strict and demanding. We fought and argued about many things and I meted out discipline to try to keep her in line and to raise her with some sense of values. As she grew into her teenage years she became more rebellious and difficult. She resented my authority and domination over her and as a result she seemed to do all those things that she knew would irritate and anger me. I didn't like the way she dressed, she wanted a tattoo and a piercing (I hit the roof and she didn't do it), and I didn't like her choice of friends. 

It took three long years for my wife to die. When it was finally over I was utterly and completely spent, emotionally, physically and financially. I was a wreck, like a zombie. After her death I had no emotional currency left in my account.

.Tracie turned 18 while her mother was still very ill. It was during the last year of my wife's illness that Tracie and I slowly came to a better understanding of each other and started to tear down the fences we had built over the earlier years. I thought how unfortunate it was that it took a death to finally resolve an ongoing battle of wills.

She had quickly blossomed into a delightful young woman during my wife illness. Many times she was very helpful and seemed to have a better understanding of my despair and emotional needs than I did. She had made several comments about how I needed to get out more and start living again but I didn't pay a lot of attention to her. I ignored her advice because I didn't give her much credit for knowing anything about living and dying. I found out later how wrong and insensitive I was.

A couple of months after the funeral I was watching the 10:00 news in my pajamas before hitting the rack. About half an hour earlier I had heard Tracie cleaning up in the kitchen and then it became quiet in there. I assumed she had gone to bed but I was mistaken. She came out to say goodnight. 

"Hi Honey, I thought you had already gone to bed. It's getting late you know and the dawn comes early."

"Yeah, I'm going right now. I just had a shower and came to bid you adieu, or bon soir, or however those crazy Frenchmen say it."

"Is it ok if I sit on your lap for a while? I'm feeling a little sad and need a hug. I'm kind of missing mom tonight."

She turned and flopped herself onto my lap, leaning back against my chest and resting her head on my shoulder while digging her bony shoulder into the side of my ribs. She smelled soapy clean and her hair was soft and silky against my cheek. She was wearing her favorite floor length, pink polyester nightgown. The material clung to her body, highlighting her puffy breasts that poked up under the soft silky fabric. Gentle folds cascaded down from the pinnacle of her nipples. With each breath her breasts were rising and falling beneath her gown.

I wanted to caress them and feel their weight in my hand. I instantly became semi-hard. "Oh, God, please, please don't let this happen," I thought. She squirmed in my arms, pulling herself upward to get more comfortable, pressing into my semi-hard penis when she moved. I thought she did it in all innocence but the effect on me was electrifying. My cock blossomed to fullness, brushing upward against the inside of her thigh as it grew to full length. 

She turned her head toward me and smiled. "Dad! I think you're missing mom tonight too. That's pretty cool." She giggled, sighed, tucked her head under my chin and moved her butt again, this time on purpose.

I had to get her off, and quickly. I sat up quickly, supporting her with my hand in the middle of her back so she wouldn't fall back onto me. Now she was siting straight up in front of me, her legs between mine with her feet on the floor. My hard-on was between her legs, pressing against the front of her pussy.

"Get up right now and go to bed sweetheart."

"Why? I don't want to."

"Because I said so and that's the only reason you need. Now go. You're too old to be siting on my lap."

"Come on Dad! I am not. I'm not a little girl anymore so don't treat me like one. I like it here."

"Go! Now!" I was pushing her up but she was pushing back, resisting.

She put her hands on the armrests and raised her butt from my lap. As she started to get up my hard-on dragged across her bottom from the front of her pussy to the back and when it came loose it sprang back like it was spring loaded. She gasped a loud "Gosh." 

My cock was standing straight up in a raging hard-on. As soon as her weight lifted off me she immediately lowered her butt again until I stabbed her in her ass cheek. She quickly swiveled her ass side to side while suspended over me, once to the right and then to the left. My swollen cock head snapped into and then out of her crevice and then plopped in again as she deliberately rubbed her pussy against my erection. The movement was slick and easy against the polyester of her nightgown. It was over within seconds, before I could react to stop her, but the message was clear. 

She pushed herself to her feet, half shouted a "Goodnight dad!" and ran from the room, down the hallway to her room, giggling like a little girl. 

Was she mocking at me? Did she think this was funny?

Sexual thoughts of all kinds instantly flashed through my mind like lightning bolts. I wanted to rip her panties off and push my hard cock into her tight young pussy. I asked myself if I should I take her now, force myself on her and fuck her hot little ass. No! She is my daughter. But she was asking for it wasn't she? I mean she didn't resist me, push me away or anything. She obviously wanted it, the little bitch. If she wanted to fuck that badly I thought, I should show her what it was all about.

I quickly followed in her footsteps as far as the bathroom in the hall. I thought I was going to cum before I could even get it out of my pajamas. I came quickly, in no more than a few seconds. Once, twice, then a violent explosion on the third stroke. It took quite a while for my erection to subside, even after ejaculating. I sat on the toilet seat, collecting myself so I could face her.

I knocked gently on her door. "Tracie? May I come in?'

"Yeah. It's open."

She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, as though she was waiting for me. She was leaning forward slightly, shoulders rounded dejectedly, pouting. She had tucked her gown under her legs, her nightgown stretched tightly into a tent-like shape. 

"I uh,... I'm a little embarrassed about what happened out there."

"Why should you be embarrassed? Anyway, you started it, I didn't."

"Honey, we have to live together and....." 

She interrupted me. "You always manage to spoil my fun. It doesn't seem to matter what it is. For half my life you hardly even knew I existed. Every time I try to get close to you or get some affection from you, you push me away like I'm some kind of leper."

"I didn't raise you to act like that. That wasn't what is called 'affection'. What in the hell were you thinking of? That was sex, period. I shouldn't have to remind you that you are my daughter, not my wife or girlfriend, and I don't have sex with my daughter."

She exploded. "Don't try and put the blame on me! I didn't come out there to have sex with you. I just came to say goodnight and you're the one that got all hard and sexed up and wanted to do it with me. And you know what, I would have let you. I would have let you fuck me because your hard cock felt good and I'm desperate for any kind of affection from you! Don't you understand? I wanted you to fuck me."

"Watch your mouth young lady! You're still living under my roof."

"Well maybe you should try it sometime. You might like it. When I try to be affectionate you act like I have committed a crime or something.

"How long are you going to continue living with your guilt, huh? When are you going to let it go and start living again? How long will it take? I know what you did in the bathroom just now. I heard the toilet flush."

I got up to leave. As I reached the doorway she said, "Goodnight dad, I'm sorry I got mad at you."

I stopped and turned back to respond to her and saw she had pulled the gown out from under her legs. She was sitting up straight, knees and thighs exposed. The hem of the gown was bunched up around her hips and one hand was pressing her nightgown close to her body, purposely separating and clearly showing me her full breasts pushing eagerly against the thin polyester fabric. 




Guilty Pleasures



Her deliberate act of exhibitionism was sensuous and sexy. As soon as I focused on her I became instantly hard again. I quickly turned toward the door and stepped into the hall but not before she noticed my erection. Safely in the hall, I stuck my head through the door and said goodnight. She was smiling. I wasn't about to reprimand her. I had had enough confrontation with her for one night.

So there I was, sitting in my chair listening to her words echo through my head. She had said she wanted me to fuck her. "Well maybe you should try it sometime. You might like it."

Her words and my reflection of the past few years made me I realize that my life currently held nothing that was soft, pretty, or feminine. I had been drifting aimlessly from one day to the next for a long time. I was neither interested nor ready to start dating yet my life had been so dark and miserable for so many years I needed some beauty, something soft in my life. Even with her open invitation to have sex, I didn't think it was right to be thinking of incest with my daughter. Again I resolved to resist her. 

During the next few days we successfully managed to avoid each other. We didn't talk too much. She knew I was angry with her and I knew she was pissed because I had rejected her and hurt her feelings again. 

A few days later I was doing laundry and happened to pick up one of her bras. I poked my fingers into the soft, silky stretch fabric of the cup, mentally measuring and visualizing the size of her breasts. I thought of how sexy, young and vibrant she is. I dug around in the laundry basket and soon found a pair of her panties. I sprouted an erection as soon as I felt the soft nylon material in my hand. The more I touched and fondled the panties the harder and hotter I got. 

I brought them to my face, breathed deeply. A faint but unmistakable odor of her essence filled my nostrils. Pussy, sweet smelling pussy. I realized that the fires I thought I had stomped out had only been smoldering quietly and patiently under the surface of my awareness, as though waiting for the slightest breeze of opportunity to fan them into an intense inferno. 

That night while lying in bed, all my memories of Tracie came alive in my mind and bombarded me in a kaleidoscope of images that tumbled over each other in a mad rush to be chosen the main stimulant. All my past memories were there, and I took the liberty of stretching those images into fantasies of things that had never really happened. For the first time in a long time I felt good. I had something to focus on other than myself and I felt alive.

I was so turned on. My cock was thick and very hard with an intense image and desire. I lay in bed and couldn't keep my hand off my erection. Time after time my hand slowly and deliberately brought me close to an orgasm as I imagined Tracie and I having illicit sex. I stroked slowly and deliberately, feeling the outer layer of skin slide smoothly over the rock hard meat beneath. Several times I brought myself near the point of ejaculation but I stopped and let myself subside before bringing myself back up again. 

Every time I did this I knew I had produced an additional supply of semen since I could feel the heaviness of it in my penis. Eventually my cock became extra sensitive even to my slightest touch. What an exquisite feeling to keep coming to the precipice time and again! Finally, with an image of my girl sitting on her bed opening her gown and then her legs, I touched myself one time too many and my pent-up cum juice erupted like a volcano from my swollen, hard penis. I exploded in my pajamas and felt the hot semen as it spread and soaked through my pajamas into my hand. I made a mess but it was worth it. 

The very next day I started looking at her in a new light. I observed her body and how she carried herself, the style and fit of the clothes she wore, her breasts, ass, narrow waist, legs, face, soft hair, everything. But I felt so guilty I was afraid to tell her what I really wanted.

Our relationship since the argument was still pretty cool towards each other but after a few days we were talking again. By now I suspected she still wanted to get me into bed and was actually trying to seduce me and I was still resisting. 

Several months earlier she had finally got her driver's license and like all young people she constantly wanted the car. At that time I still couldn't afford a second car for her so we had to share. If we both needed the car at the same time we could usually work out some kind of arrangement. She always wanted to drive, even if I was going to keep the car and pick her up later. I loved to watch her get buckled in because the shoulder strap, crossing the middle of her chest, accentuated her breasts beautifully. It separated her pointy tits and made them look huge. 

One day she came to pick me up at the office after work. I jumped in the passenger side and secured the seat belt. By the time I finished she was already starting to pull out into the traffic, looking over her left shoulder to check for oncoming cars, twisting her upper body against the seat belt. She looked delicious. She was bra-less under the soft cotton T-shirt that was stretched tight across her nipples. 

I was looking at her as she straightened the car out and got into the flow of traffic. "Honey, if I were driving I would have had an accident by now. Why do you insist on going out in public without a bra?" 

She apologized for the way she was dressed. "I'm sorry, Dad. I had to leave in a real hurry to get you and I just forgot because I was in such a rush. Just look at the road instead of me, ok?" 

Then she straightened her back, dropped her right hand on the steering wheel, and peered intently out the windshield. Meanwhile I spent the entire drive home with a hard-on, wishing I were still a teenager.

One night I was still up watching the end of the late news when Tracie came in from her date with Mark, her boyfriend.

"Hi honey, you're home early. Isn't Mark coming in?" 

"No, he went home. I told him I was tired and I have to get up early tomorrow."

Did you guys have fun?"

"Yeah, I had a good time. We just went to eat and then to see a movie." She gave me a little hug, as was her custom when coming home. 

"We went to the Bocca Grande restaurant and I pigged out. Probably put on about 20 lbs. Anyway, after that we went to see that new movie they have been advertising, the one with Tom Hanks. It was pretty good if you like that sort of thing."

"I have an early day tomorrow and I am so tired I'm going to bed. Would you mind doing my dress for me please?" She turned her back to me so I could loosen the top of her dress. I unhooked the catch and pulled the zipper down to the middle of her back. "You know better than that. Unzip me, all the way down. You men are impossible. I'm not going to bite you. Sometimes you have to be a contortionist to get unzipped from these things." 

I slowly pulled it down, listening to the raspy sound of the zipper. The dress relaxed its tight grip on her, revealing a V-shaped expanse of smooth skin that tapered downward from the top of her shoulders to her waistline. The zipper reached the very bottom, exposing the top of her white lace panties. She was not wearing a bra.

"Don't you wear a bra anymore? Do you have no shame?" It was more of a statement than a question and I didn't mean it to sound critical, but it did. My throat felt tight and constricted. My voice sounded funny to me and I thought it would expose me. 

"There's nothing to be ashamed about. This dress doesn't need a bra smarty." She turned to face me, holding the top of the dress with both hands at her shoulders, making sure it didn't accidentally slip off. 

"I think you're embarrassed. You are aren't you? Well, you shouldn't be. Anyway, when it is zipped up it has plenty of built-in support and it's much more comfortable to wear without a bra. And for your information to make you feel better, Mark has no idea I was bra-less tonight. One more thing, you shouldn't be trying to tell a woman how to dress. Just tell her she looks nice and you will be OK."

"You look nice." I meant it.

She laughed. "Thanks. But next time try saying it without being prompted. Goodnight. I'm off to bed. Got a big day tomorrow." 

She turned and headed down the hall to her bedroom, leaving me with a receding view of the fleshy V pointing downward to the top of her panties, like an invitation with directions. 

A few weeks later on a Sunday morning we were sharing coffee and donuts in the kitchen and making small talk. When we were finished with the donuts she nonchalantly mashed her index finger on the counter, moved it around to pick up some of the powdered sugar we had spilled. She put her finger into her mouth up to the second knuckle, and slowly pulled it out, lips puckered, cheeks hollowed from the sucking action. I watched the movement of her mouth and jaw muscles as she sucked her finger. She never once glanced up at me to see if I noticed or was paying attention. I couldn't tell if she had done it on purpose to tease me or if she was in fact just eating the sugar. I have done it myself many times but I never stick my whole damn finger in my mouth. 

Her painted lips and puckered mouth pulled at my imagination. She only concentrated on the counter top and where her next finger swipe would be. After the second swipe she stuck her tongue out and with a long tongue licked the sugar off. She looked directly into my eyes and then wiped her wet finger on the napkin. "Yummy! Those are so good I could eat the whole box. But you know us women, we have to watch our figures so I had better stop before I get fat." Was it my imagination or was she trying to send me a signal, to seduce me?

Near the end of her final year of high school, Tracie came home from school and told me that her drama teacher, Mrs. Clark, had invited the students in her class to a dinner on the coming Friday night. She wanted to know if she could borrow some of her mother's clothes for the evening because they were more mature and sophisticated looking. 

"Imagine that" I thought, "I guess she is finally starting to grow up." This was one of the few times she had expressed any interest in wearing her mother's clothes, even though there was still a closet full of them in my bedroom. I was pleased. I started preparing dinner while she slipped off to the bedroom to poke around in the closet. 

Ten or fifteen minutes later she returned asking if dinner was ready yet. I told her if she had been there to help it would have been. Then I turned. If her intention was to get my attention she was more than successful. My eyes did a full body scan from top to bottom. She looked gorgeous. She was wearing Ann's long sleeved, sheer, silk button-up blouse, a dark blue skirt and comfortable flats. The blouse was always one of my favorites and seeing it on Tracie brought memory flashes.

Under the blouse she wore a smooth stretch lycra bra that cut across her breasts above her nipples. Her breasts were pushed up and the cleavage formed by her full rounded breasts was deep and inviting. She was stunning and I tried to keep cool and under control. "You know young lady, your mother always wore a slip or a camisole whenever she wore that blouse. Don't you think that is a little daring to say the least, especially in front of me? You make me a little uncomfortable."

She looked down at her breasts and then back at me. "I guess it is a little transparent. I just wanted to see how it fit and how it would look on me. You think it's too sexy huh? Times have changed a lot Dad but to make you feel better I promise I won't wear it out of the house without a camisole underneath. But I thought it would be okay like this at home, just to try in on. Ok? I hope you don't mind if I wear it. I mean, I know the blouse was one of your favorites when Mom wore it. What do you think?" 

She turned around slowly, granting me the privilege of examining the whole package. "Looks pretty good on me doesn't it?"

I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to get into an argument and spoil the evening. She was definitely hot and sexy looking. "You remind me a lot of your mother and you have a pretty good memory because that particular blouse was always one my favorites. You look better than nice sweetheart. Please be careful you don't spill anything on it. But I shouldn't be seeing you dressed like this. You know that."

"Kids wear all kinds of sexy looking stuff today, even to school. This is way too elegant to wear to school though."

I had a hard-on throughout dinner and for the rest of that evening. It was difficult not to look at her. She moved with an easy grace and a confidence I wasn't aware she possessed. I tried to be discrete in my observation of her but she knew she had my attention. 

For most of the evening I had the impression she was grinning from ear to ear. She was doing her homework at the dining room table and for most of the evening she made sure I was aware of her presence, flirting with me, getting up frequently to go to the kitchen for a drink or a snack, or the bathroom. It was very apparent to me what she was doing and she was enjoying the effect. 

After watching the evening news I got up to go to bed. I have a TV in my bedroom and it's my habit to watch the late night show in bed before going to sleep. Fifteen or twenty minutes after getting settled Tracie came in and went directly to the closet, located just to the right of where the TV sits on the dresser. Paying no attention to me, with her back turned, she quickly pulled the blouse out from around the waistband of the skirt. I could tell from the movement of her hands and arms that she was unbuttoning it from the bottom to the top. Still facing the closet she slid the blouse off her shoulders, placed it on a hangar and hung it up. I saw her bare shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath like a sigh as she stood there looking into the closet, making up her mind about something.

"Tracie! What are you doing?" I knew what she was doing so it was a redundant question. I was already hard just seeing her bare back and bra strap. My cock throbbed at the sight of her skirt tightening across her ass as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. 

She turned to face me directly, not saying anything. She took a couple of tentative steps toward me until she was even with the end of the bed. I could tell from her voice that she was nervous.

"I was just putting the blouse back where I found it, where it belongs." Her eyes flashed with excitement and her face was flushed. In her excitement she was breathing was faster than normal. I was instantly hard as stone the moment she turned around from hanging the blouse. My eyes betrayed me. They wouldn't stay focused on anything except her body as she stood unashamedly in front of me. Her nipples were visible through the thin bra. She let me look, so I looked. She didn't move or turn away, letting me look some more. So I did.

"Do you know what you are doing, letting me see you half naked like this? I'm your father for God's sake."

"I know you are, and I'm not half naked either. I didn't think you would mind if you saw me in my bra because there isn't much difference between now and earlier, is there? I mean the blouse is pretty sheer and you could see my bra and everything anyway, so what's the big deal? You've seen me in my bikini tons of times and besides," she paused and took a breath, "I thought you thought I looked pretty because I noticed you couldn't stop looking. Don't get me wrong or anything but I like it when you look at me like I'm special or something. The thing is, this is Mom's skirt and I have to hang it up too. So if you don't want to see what I'm going to do, you should turn your head and look somewhere else. It's up to you." 

She looked directly into my eyes, smiled a little wistfully and reached behind her back with both hands, thrusting her breasts forward. I heard the unmistakable sound of the zipper being pulled down, ripping at the silence like a long strung-out rumble of thunder. She quickly loosened the clasp and the skirt dropped with a quiet swish into a rumpled pile at her feet. Her eyes hadn't wavered and were still locked onto mine. I got the sense she was challenging me, almost daring me to tell her to stop.

She didn't move, didn't even blink for what seemed to be an eternity. Then she broke the gaze as she bent over to pick up the skirt. I thought her breasts were going to fall out of her bra. They were long and tapered. She held the skirt up in front of her, folded it in half lengthwise and carefully draped it over the seat of a chair that was against the wall. She stood in front of me wearing only a bra and satin white panties. She was seemingly unashamed and unafraid of her actions. I was dumbfounded and hadn't said anything. I was speechless and swallowed with difficulty, but I hadn't looked away either. I couldn't.

Words of reprimand rose in my throat but they refused to come out of my mouth while my eyes were busy feeding the hunger of my lust. There wasn't a doubt in my mind what she wanted. The little bitch wanted me to fuck her.

She slowly turned side to side, teasing and taunting in her bra and panties. "Do you like this outfit?" 

I swiveled my legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. She stared openly at the raised tent in my pajamas and smiled. She swallowed hard, and said, "I bet you can't catch me if you try." She paused a moment, then continued. "But if you can, you can have me. I mean if you want me, Ok?"

With those words she made it clear she also hadn't forgotten the game we had played so many years earlier. 

"Come here! I'll show you what I'll do." I stood up and I reached out to grab her arm but she quickly backed away, out of reach. I honestly don't know if I intended to beat her ass for acting like this or if I was finally going to do what I had wanted to do and had suppressed for so many years. 

I took a step toward her and she moved back, giggling. "No, way! You'll never catch me this time." As she turned to run I lunged at her and caught her around the waist before she could even reach the doorway. She squealed and struggled to escape, laughing and squirming. The squeal sounded familiar to my ears. Since she was trying to run she was bent over at the waist, pushing her butt into my hard-on. She straightened up, turned to face me in the embrace of my arms and immediately discovered my erection.  

She had her arms around the top of my shoulders, hands clasped behind my neck. The pressure of her up-lifted breasts burned against my bare chest. She leaned back, tilted her head to the side and looked at me. A small voice, breathy and seductive in its implications whispered, "Do you want to see more? Remember before when I wore a dress with no bra? Now I have a bra with no dress. Pretty funny huh?" 

I didn't think it was funny. All my resistance was gone and my body began to shudder, literally shaking as my nerves jumped uncontrollably. I had lost my sense of control, as well as that polite sense of fatherly concern and formality. I was about to get laid for the first time in a long time. She had managed to excite me past the point of caring that she was my daughter. She was exciting and for now I only wanted to fuck her, regardless of the consequences.

"Take my bra off dad. Its ok, I want you to. I want you to look at me." 

I looked down at her breasts and my cock pulsed strongly between her legs. She smiled and responded to the pressure by moving her hips, slowly but distinctly humping my erection. She knew I was hers.

I ran my hands up her sides until I felt the slippery smoothness of the stretched lycra under my palms. My hands moved to her breasts, feeling them in my hands for the first time. First my thumbs, then my palms, toyed with her hard nipples through the bra. My cock was throbbing at her pussy and leaking pre-cum juice onto my pajamas, making them wet. My fingers slid under the bra and I pushed the bra up and over her breasts. "Oh, God, hurry! Just rip it off!" My hands were shaking badly but I somehow managed to unfasten the hook, pull the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, and throw it to the floor. 




Guilty Pleasures



We were only a few feet from the edge of the bed so we staggered over to it together as we clawed at each other. I hit it with the back of my legs and sat down on the edge. She let go of me and I fell backward onto the bed, holding my arms up in a gesture for her to join me. Instead she grabbed my pajamas at the waistband, stretched the elastic band over my hard-on and pulled them off, turning them inside out. She hooked two thumbs under her panties and jerked them down to her knees. She wriggled her legs and the panties fell to the floor.

She kicked her panties away and paused briefly, standing at the end of the bed stark naked, looking down at me before climbing onto the bed. I was very aware and self-conscious of my nakedness and exposed erection. Her eyes focused on my hard throbbing cock and I had a flash of embarrassment because she was seeing me like this. In spite of what was happening she was still my daughter and it wasn't my habit to let her see me naked. 

I had moved higher up on the bed so my feet weren't hanging over. She got on the bed and was ready to crawl over me by straddling my legs, her arms at my hips, her knees at my ankles. Her pendulous breasts, aided in their appearance by gravity, were tipped with bullet hard, erect nipples. I was throbbing hard with anticipation. She was completely focused on looking at my hard-on. Then her head dipped down obscuring my view of her breasts. She was breathing heavily through her mouth and I felt her warm breath on my cock. 

I thought, "She's really going to do it. She's going to give me a blow-job."

I was tingling with excitement as I watched her red painted lips open wider to take my erection into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the swollen flange and I thought I was going to cum immediately but I didn't. I watched in fascination as more of my cock disappeared into her mouth. She moved her right hand to the base of my shaft and stroked me gently a few times while bobbing her head up and down, sucking on me. She took it out of her mouth and looked up at me, smiling with a satisfied look before starting to crawl higher. My cock glistened with her saliva. 

She stopped when her pussy came in contact with my erection. She pressed her body against me and I could feel her heat. We hadn't spoken a word until she whispered in my ear, "Was that good for you?"

"That is incredibly good, Honey. I can't believe this is happening."

"You even taste good too. I've wanted this for so long." She raised up, offering one of her long tapered breasts. Her nipples were hard and erect with excitement. I raised my head and took the offering into my mouth listening to her pleasurable moaning sounds as I sucked and stroked her. 

I pushed my hard-on at her pussy attempting to enter her but I missed. I tried again and failed again. She reached down, took my penis and put it in for me, moving it back and forth a couple of times until the swollen cock head passed beyond her pussy lips. She was so incredibly wet I slipped in easily, feeling the tightness of her hole envelop my cock. 

She suddenly plunged downward, engulfing my entire hard-on in a single smooth thrust and immediately started fucking me with a frenzy of deep plunging movements. I raised my hips and pushed up to meet her, penetrating a little deeper. She moved her pelvis up and down rapidly, making loud slapping noises when our bodies crashed together. Smack! smack! smack! as she drove my pole deep into her with each thrust. In a few minutes she started whimpering in a low moan as the beginning of an orgasm started to overtake her body. With her hips raised on an upstroke she hesitated, then three or four more short quick plunges followed and she began crying in a long wail. Her movements slowed deliberately before plunging one more time, hard, to spear me as deep as possible. Her whole body began to shudder and convulse in a giant orgasm. I pumped her hard and furious, quickly reaching my own climax. My cock felt huge in her tight pussy as it enlarged and ejaculated, filling her with hot semen. She collapsed onto me and I held her tightly, rubbing her back. We were silent for a while, just breathing together until she spoke. 

"Wasn't that something? I think there's nothing better in the whole world." I lay under her, our sweat-slippery bodies pressed together, feeling empty and embarrassed and sinful, but wanting to do it again, while at the same time feeling disgusted with myself for wanting to. And vaguely sad too.

"I'm quick," she boasted. "Men like someone who's quick don't they?"

"Of course they do. I mean......why wouldn't they?" I thought to myself, "How much experience does she have anyway?" I wanted to ask but I knew I didn't want to know the answer.

After a while I started shrinking. She squeezed her vagina muscles. I responded with a pulse and after a few times of sending muscular messages back and forth my softened penis slid out of her warm moistness into the cooler air. "Ah heck. He felt good in there," she said.

She rolled off to the side and I cradled her against me with my arm under her neck. For a while we were both lost in our own private thoughts about what we had just done. At least I was. I lay with my eyes closed, thinking.

After several minutes she broke the silence, "Well I'm glad. I don't know about you, but I'm glad we did it and I hope you liked doing it. Mostly, I hope you're not sorry, or worse, still mad at me." 

"I'm not sorry at all honey. But what do you mean, still mad at you?"

"You know what I mean. You've been mad at me ever since I was a little kid, long before Mom even got real sick." 

I pulled my arm out from under her neck, rolled over and propped myself up on one elbow to look down at her. "I'm not mad at you sweetheart." I was already hard again and I didn't want to talk. I rolled on top of her and this time was able to enter easily without her assistance. She willingly spread her knees, ready for me again. It took a long time for me to cum the second time. Both our bodies were sweaty and slippery when I finally came. I collapsed on top of her, my legs and arms shaking from the exertion.

We started talking and didn't stop until she had opened her heart and poured everything out for me to see. 

In her mind she had always thought of me as being her first love. At least to her I was the first person that had been openly sexually attracted to her, that had introduced her to sex even though it had never been consummated. She thought I had stopped loving her, was angry with her and couldn't understand why I wouldn't touch her any more. For years she had felt a tremendous sense of rejection and had to go looking elsewhere for the love she needed. She told me she resented me for abandoning her.

"And then later, after mom left, there were lots of times I saw you looking at me like you were interested, but you never did anything about it. My friends would come over and you fooled around and kidded with them but you wouldn't even do that with me. It's like you were afraid of me or something. I even saw you get hard a few times when Keri was here wearing something skimpy and showing some skin. And I would get mad at her because you were paying more attention to her than to me. It wasn't fair." Keri was her best and her closest friend in the world. 

"I've wanted you to do this ever since I was little. Well, when I was real little I didn't know anything except it was exciting. Every time I tried to get you interested in me you got mad. I thought there was something wrong with you because you seemed so blind to everything. Does any of that make sense to you?"

I told her how much I had wanted her over the years, how I had wanted to make love with her but was afraid to because I didn't want to hurt her or her mother, she was just a child, she was my daughter, etc, etc. 

She ran her hands through my chest hairs. "You know, you don't have to worry about that any more. From now on you can have me any time you want me, day or night. I'm all yours, any time." Her words were soft and sincere, making me hard again. We talked some more, airing our concerns and pent-up emotions to each other until we finally drifted off into a peaceful deep sleep.

I had to leave for work early in the morning. When I awoke Tracie was curled up on the left side of the bed sleeping peacefully. I left her there without disturbing her, had quick shower and left the house.

What a difference a day makes. My feelings coming home that next evening were completely different. All day I had been thinking of her, of our conversation, her seduction, and the fantastic sex. I had fucked my daughter and I had no negative emotions about it. My feelings were all positive and I wanted more, I wanted to do it again. I knew it was waiting for me as soon as I could get home. My understanding of our relationship had changed over night. When I came home from work she was already home from school waiting for me. After our long talk the night before I had a good idea of what to expect but I knew from experience that nothing was ever for certain with Tracie. 

She was in the kitchen, waiting, when I came in the door from the garage. She looked so good. 

She came to meet me and we stood facing each other, each evaluating the other to see who would make the first move. I looked at her and smiled. She slipped her arms under mine and pressed against me, hugging me tightly in a welcome home. I put one arm around her waist my other hand moved to the swell of her ass and began to massage the firm flesh under her skirt. I pulled her close, wanting her to feel my hard-on that had grown instantly in my pants. I held her by her ass and rubbed my hardness back and forth, hoping she liked how it felt. She looked up into my face, her fingers digging hard into my back. "I've been waiting all day for you to come home. I want to do it again. Fuck me again daddy. Right now" I went berserk. Our hands started tearing the clothes off each other. There was no thought about it at all, just a pure hot, raw, passionate desire to fuck. 

We headed towards the bedroom removing each other's clothes as fast as we could on the way. The clothes started flying off in the kitchen and we left a trail of clothes that ended in the bedroom. I was completely naked when we stood beside the bed. The last item to come off was her panties. I knelt down in front of her and slid them off down to her knees. As soon as her pussy was visible I leaned forward and kissed her hairy mound. I needed to get underneath her more, so I moved forward, raised my face, arched my neck uncomfortably and kissed her wetly right on her pussy lips. She had such a grip on my head I thought she was going to rip the hair out of my head. 

I lifted her onto the bed then climbed on top of her, straddling her on my knees. I knelt upright on my knees, proudly showing her my erection. She smiled and reached for it, gently wrapping her hand around it. Today I wanted to eat her pussy. She trembled as I slowly slid my body down hers. There was a moment when my face was pressed between her breasts that I almost lost control, but I managed to keep going. My tongue and lips found their way down her stomach and over the swell of her mound. I lifted her legs over my shoulders, leaning up and into her, raising her ass into the air. I kissed her inner thigh, sensing the presence of her hammering pulse, then moved to the sensitive spot where her inner thigh joined her body. I covered her wet pussy lips with my mouth and my tongue went to work. Slapping, sucking noises rose, along with the incredible aroma of hot pussy.

This is what I had been waiting to do. I knew this is what she had been wanting to experience for her first time. I held her in place and alternated sucking her puffy lips into my mouth and running my tongue deeper and deeper into her open slit. I alternated darting my tongue inside her in short quick jabs with broader strokes. Her hands slid down her back so she could prop herself up on her elbows, to help push her hips up to me. 

She bucked under me as my tongue grazed her clit again and again. My tongue became sore and tired from my constant licking action and I needed to rest. I stuck it out, making it as thick and long as I could, inserting it as far as I could into her pussy. My hands clenched and unclenched, massaging her firm ass and keeping her wet sex pressed right up to my face. I held my tongue out hard and steady while she rode her clit up and down on my face, rasping her slit on my tongue. She started to cum with her hips still raised in the air and then she had to let go, dropping to the bed, writhing and moaning with pleasure. I was so proud of myself. I had made her cum with my mouth. I moved up and quickly entered her wet pussy fucking her with long hard strokes.

For the next two or three weeks our sex was hot and spontaneous. We did it everywhere and often. After a while the intensity and excitement of knowing we were being incestuous began to wear off a little and we settled into more of a routine, like a couple.

The end of the school year came and with it the realization she would be soon be leaving for college. For the next several months of that summer Tracie shared my bed and we made love every chance we had. 

During that time we performed oral sex on each other several times. Twice I had anal sex with her. The first time she was sitting on my lap in the living room watching TV. I was fondling her breasts and my hard-on was throbbing against her butt. She asked me if I want to do it to her in her ass since I was poking at her there in her butt. I was a little surprised at her question. She said she had never done it there before. I hadn't either so this was something new to me also. In my puritan way, I always thought it was a little weird and only done by homosexuals, but now it sounded exciting, like everything else I was doing with her recently. 

She went to get the K-Y jelly. When she returned I pulled my pants and underwear down past my knees. She stood in front of me and hiked her skirt up to her waist. 

"You do it," she said.

I slid her panties down to her knees, revealing her bushy pussy.

"You still want to do it in my butt?"

Without waiting for an answer she turned and sat on my lap again and liberally greased her anal opening and my erection while I held the back of her skirt up so it wouldn't get greasy. 

She took my cock in her hand and put it into the opening of her ass. Very gently she lowered herself onto it, controlling the entry by lowering herself very slowly onto my hard-on. She was pushing pretty hard but we were having a difficult time getting in. Either I was too big or her anal opening was too small. I was beginning to think I wouldn't be able to fuck her this way because she was so tight. Then there was a sudden movement, with a kind of plop and a release of pressure on my stretched penile opening as the swollen flange of my cock head slipped passed her anal opening. Her asshole was now clamped like a vice around the neck of my penis. The rest seemed easy. With short but quick pulsing movements she lowered herself ever deeper until I was completely embedded in her ass. 

The second time was when I asked her if I could do it in her ass again. She laughed and teased me, suggesting I was turning into an "ass-man." She seemed delighted that I liked doing it that way. This time we were in the bedroom and she positioned herself at the edge of the bed on her hands and knees. I stood at the end of the bed and I entered her doggie style, with my hands gripping her at the flair of her hips. I went in slowly with very short penetrating pulses like she had done the first time because she was so incredibly tight and I didn't want to hurt her. This time she was more relaxed and I entered with less strain than the first time. As soon as I pushed past her tight barrier I spread her cheeks and carefully and gently pushed my pole all the way in to the hilt. I began pumping her ass vigorously in and out, in and out, in and out, while I fingered her pussy with my right hand. I really liked the feel her ass pressing against my groin when I was deep into her ass. 

Then the day came that she had to leave to attend college. We were both sad about separating now that we had found mutual pleasure. It turned out to be a good thing for her to leave home because early that summer, after we started our sexual relationship, she had broken up with her boyfriend Mark, and her social life had deteriorated since she was spending much of her time with me. At college she found a new boyfriend whom she is pretty serious about, and is quite active in many of the college activities. She is going her own way, making her own life.



Guilty Pleasures



Trevor parks the car at the far end of the large car park so we're not seen arriving together. That's very important. We play by my boyfriend's rules. I have no choice in the matter.

"Come on you little slut," he says, killing the headlights and switching off the ignition. He doesn't smile, only puts his hand up my dress and feels my crotch. "Jesus!" he says. You can't wait, can you?"

I'm already hard with anticipation, but this doesn't stop a tear coming to my eye. I have an odd mixture of feelings. On the one hand I feel a naughty kind of excitement, and on the other a feeling of hurt and helplessness to be used this way.

"Come on, then... Let's see if you can pull for us tonight," he says.

My heartbeat is thundering in my ears and there's that familiar fluttering in my tummy. It's always the same.

"Yes, Master," I reply, and he takes my chin in two fingers.

"You'd just better not forget it," he says with a cruel smile. The tear that's been threatening slips down my cheek.

Trevor has me dressed in a silver-white dress, shiny and slinky, it accentuates the feminine curves I've been blessed with; or do I mean cursed?

We had met six months earlier in a pub near Covent Garden. I was doing a Sunday lunchtime stint in The Volunteer, just got to the point in my routine where I sing (lip-sinc) Last Dance by Donna Summer. I send the punters fucking mad with that one.

I knew he liked me from the off. He was right at the front giving me the old eyeball, well, more a cold hard stare, really. I was a bit frightened to be honest. He didn't smile, he just leered. But I just knew I was toasting his nuts with that Donna Summer song. It's amazing how many supposedly straight guys get their heads turned by a drag queen. It happens all the time. We get used to it. But Trevor was something special.

He frightened me, yeah, but he was so fucking sexy, I knew I just wanted to be with him from then on and I left him without any doubt about that fact by laying it on thick. Oh, lovey, I tell you, I gave him some kind of hard-on.

He kisses me lightly, without emotion. He slips his hand inside my panties and fingers me. I shift about on the seat as he teases me, playing with my cock and balls, the leather upholstery squeaking and sticking to the bare expanse of flesh between stocking tops and underwear.

"You're crying," he says. "Why do you cry?"

I just shake my head, and he takes his hand out from under my dress and smells his fingers.

"Oh, baby. You're just so hot and dirty, aren't you?"

I've lost count of the times we've engaged in this scenario. It's a revenge thing for him partly. For the time I was unfaithful. A weekend away with the 'girls' (a hen bash) and he somehow got to hear about my indiscretion with an Italian waiter at the hotel and he's made me pay ever since. But I still love the bastard. Well, I suppose I must do to allow myself to be put through this.

The funny thing is, despite the tears (they don't always happen, depends how emotional I'm feeling) I get a kick out of our sordid scenarios too. In fact I think I enjoy it more than he does sometimes, though I wouldn't let on. It would only piss him off even more. I know he gets a buzz out of me going with another bloke, availing my two orifices to a guy's whims and fancies. It turns Trevor on something rotten. But it's not as much a punishment as he thinks it is, making me go with someone of his choosing.

The tears and emotion that come with it are a kind of paradox. I guess it's because I know that I'm a willing slave to it anyway, and I hate myself for it. Sometimes I really wish it felt like a punishment and I would be relieved of the guilt for sharing that waiter's bed.

The keen autumn air nips at my bared flesh when my dress rises up my thigh as I step out of the car. I wrap the stole around my shoulders. Trevor lets me go on ahead while he hangs back. My four-inch heels crunch the gravel drive, my breath steams ahead of me like a billowing cloud.

A man opens the bar door to leave, releasing the indoor acoustic of a blaring jukebox. He shoves past without bothering to hold the door for me.

"Hey, mister..!" I say. He looks me up and down, disdainfully, moves on. It's that kind of place.

I get a drink from the bar and head for a table at the rear, laying it on thick with the walk. A good drag queen knows how to handle herself, how to use her tits, wiggle her bum. It's really something getting looks from both men and women.

Trevor enters a few moments after my first sip. We don't acknowledge each other. He chooses a table against the wall from which we can see each other as well as everyone else who enters the bar. He'll choose a man for me and give me the nod. We haven't been to this particular venue before, but the clientele seems okay.

A few cheap-looking working girls (real gals) loll at the bar. Blue smoke curls up from their cigarettes, around the bags under their eyes and up into their frizzy hair-dos. They all look the same. They cadge drinks and vie for the cleaner looking punters. Most of the other patrons are well-paid contractors, construction workers with cash to flash and, if they happen to be particularly lucky, a little romance for which they won't have to pay anyway.

There are a few city gents too. Perhaps they're slumming it for a bit of rough, though I don't put myself in that category. Things are gradually changing in this neighbourhood, it's on the up, hence the construction guys and latest building developments.  

A cheap-looking, revolving multi-mirrored globe in the centre of the ceiling is just enough to make the otherwise unappealing lighting dance on my shiny dress. I pull my shoulders back, accentuating my bust. I'm so proud of my tits, full with pointy nips, all achieved with hormones and the tiniest of implants. That's why they appear so natural. 

One of the nicer-dressed men notices me. He smiles and lifts his drink in acknowledgement. He's a good-looking guy. I glance at Trevor. He doesn't give anything away just yet.

I return the man's smile. Perhaps he'll be the one I'll get to go to bed with tonight. He carries his drink to my table and asks if he can join me. I nod yes. He sits across from me. He's in his mid-thirties, expensively dressed, his hair nicely styled, teeth white and straight. He looks like a lawyer or accountant. He asks my name.

"Coleen."

A white lie - it's Colin actually.

He says his is Dave, probably also a white one. People don't come to places like this to meet people they ever want to see again.

Dave asks what I'm drinking and offers to buy me a refill. I accept. I need a few drinks to calm my nerves and make myself ready. We make small talk. He seems nice, not the type to hurt a woman, but looks can be deceptive. Some of the nicer looking ones have been the meanest in my experience.

We talk for about twenty minutes. I feel comfortable with him. I hope Trevor will give the thumbs up. He nods approval, but doesn't give me the full 'gold-seal'. That means we won't be taking this particular one home with us. More's the Pity.

I slip my stole off and drape it over the back of the chair. Dave watches me, ogling my breasts. Several other men notice, too. I tingle inside. I love being on display for strangers. Dave approves of what he sees. I can see it in his eyes. His gaze tracks across my breasts and the moistening valley in between. He's already planning how to get me out of here and into his bed.

We talk the small stuff for a few minutes. I glance at Trevor. He licks his lips and walks to the men's room. That's my cue. Dave is in for a little treat, although he won't be the one going home with me. Perhaps Trevor thinks he's too genteel or well mannered. He never explains why he chooses or rejects men.

Trevor doesn't come back. That means the men's room is empty. I touch the back of Dave's hand while I toy with my necklace, imitation diamond, but it sparkles like fuck and looks the business. I tell Dave there's something I want to show him. He follows me to the toilets and is puzzled when I enter the men's room. He hesitates before following me in.

He looks around suspiciously. I know what he's wondering. Is it a trap? Am I in cahoots with someone who intends to mug him? Is it some kind of sex-sting operation?

One cubicle has an "out of order" sign on the closed door – Trevor's normal trick. It isn't locked. I know he's in the cubicle next to this one. I open the door and Dave follows me in and bolts it. Now it's my turn to get edgy.

If this guy was so inclined, he'd have time to hurt me before Trevor could intervene. A few men have hurt me. One burned me with a cigarette, thinking it would somehow turn me on. I have a small button scar on the inside of my thigh to remind me. Normally it's okay. Most guys are okay.

Dave pulls me to him and kisses me. He fumbles under my blouse and squeezes my breast. He smells of fresh shampoo and expensive cologne. I respond to his kiss, opening my mouth and pushing my pelvis against him. I wonder how he wants to play it. What will be the thing or things that throw his switches?

Dave's tongue swims and darts my mouth while his hand slides away from my breast to lift my dress. He finds what he's looking for and slips his hand inside my panties. He toys with my pubic hair then he cups my balls. "I love tight sacs," he whispers in my ear. "And yours is supreme."

I smile inwardly at the strange compliment.

I move on his hand and pant into his mouth. I want him to soil me and I know that's what Trevor wants too. He wants me to act like a slut, to prostrate myself at the feet of strangers, to take their cocks and suck them until they cum in my mouth, and then swill and swirl the stuff around my tongue, opening wide to show it them before I swallow.

I know that's what Trevor would want. He loves to watch me shudder and gag as I try and swallow his copious, lathery emissions and I guess he gets a voyeuristic thrill from thinking of or seeing me doing the same to another man, particularly a casual bar "pick-up".

I'm here to satisfy - firstly Trevor's lust, and secondly, this other man's.

But what about my own?

I touch Dave through his trousers. He's nice and firm. I fumble with his zipper, get my hand inside the waistband of his boxers. His large cock springs out like a small rubber cosh. Dave's fingers encircle my own prick. He's very gentle, sexy, knows what a ladyboy likes. His hand begins to massage me and I move my hips to ride it.

I'm not supposed to experience pleasure in these seedy acts, only degradation and humiliation. That's Trevor's view, that's what turns him on, the thought of me being humiliated at the expense of pleasure. Well, you're wrong, Trevor-boy!

Humiliation and pleasure go hand in hand in my book. Supposed to or not, I often have an amazing orgasm with the men you pick for me.

I push his hand gently aside and sink to my knees on the stone-tiled floor. Dave's cock bounces in front of my face. He's large and natural. I wrap my left arm around the backs of his thighs, take him in my right hand and work his tight foreskin back, exposing the scarlet head. The Italian waiter was the only other uncut man I've ever been with. Dave reminds me a little of him.

He's clean and pleasant, unlike most of the men with whom I have sex. I lick the head of his dick. The ridge behind is prominent. I imagine how nice it'd feel violating my arsehole, his balls slapping my arse. I lick the eye of his cock, penetrating it with the tip of my tongue. I can taste the sweet stuff (pre-cum) oozing up his shaft. He trembles with pleasure.

I guide him between my lips, take him in, then watch the red lipstick smear his long cock as he draws outwards. I continue to hold him while he's in my mouth to keep him from thrusting in too deeply and also to resist the temptation of touching myself should I let him go. I would only cum too quickly.

Dave holds my cheeks clumsily between his hands and fucks my mouth. The stone tiled floor grazes against my knees, fuck knows what it's doing to my nylons. I squeeze his cock and suck hard to bring him on quickly. Our time is limited in here.

I imagine Trevor masturbating steadily while in the cubicle next to us. He likes me to be noisy when I'm sucking somebody off. That's another thing that turns him on – sounds. He's a real sound and vision man all right.

He and Dave will have their orgasms to enjoy and I'll have a mouth full of caustic cum to savour - saline and viscous. Whether I spit or swallow will depend on taste and mood. We all get our own little kick from this sordid scene.

Dave grunts and forces himself deeper into my mouth. I let go of his thick shaft. It's almost over. My nose touches the wiry hair at the base of his cock. He smells of musky, men's talc. He gushes hotly against the back of my throat and then pulls partway out so he can feel my tongue against the knob of his cock. I swirl it around while he fills my mouth with hot sperm. It must have been quite a while since he'd jerked off or fucked, which is surprising - good-looking man like him. He's very viscous and, my god, he's so very salty! He ejaculates in about half-a-dozen pulsing spasms, not the single explosion I was expecting.

I time it badly and some of his cum slips down my throat before I can do anything about it. Trevor likes me to keep some back to share with him when it's all over, so I have to be careful not to swallow it all at once. But there's loads of the stuff and I can hardly swallow fast enough to keep up with him. I gag and cough and the back of my throat burns to the ammonic rush.

He softens quickly and withdraws, zips up, straightens his clothes. He suddenly looks guilty and embarrassed. He asks, "How much?" I shake my head, and wave my hand flatly, tell him I'm not a professional tart. He looks puzzled. There is no goodbye kiss, no words of endearment. I no longer exist now that he's satisfied. He can't wait to get away, back to his wife I bet. Guys often feel disgusted after giving themselves up to a chick with a dick. The guilt I suppose. But it passes and when it does they always come back for more. What is it about a cock in a frock that excites a man?

He departs, coat collar up, looking sheepishly around him as he crosses the floor. The door swings close again.

He seemed like a nice bloke. I wish he'd been the one to take home with us.

Trevor enters the cubicle and leers at me, a curious mixture of disdain and admiration. He's still hard, his cock shiny-wet with ejaculate in the bare white electric light. It twitches in time with his pulse.

"Are you hot?" he demands. "Do you like sucking off strangers in public toilets?" He inspects my nipples through my dress then slaps at my breasts because they're hard. But it's not the sex that has made them pointy. The room is cold. But he interprets it as a sign of insolence and smacks them again. He commands me to raise my dress. He touches my cock, squeezes my balls. I'm seeping and sticky. He forces my thighs apart and plunges two fingers into my arsehole.

"Oh, you are hot!" he says. "You don't care who fucks or fingers you as long as you get your little "cum", do you, you filthy bitch!"

He forces his thick dry fingers in and out of my bottom; with his other hand he masturbates me. Trevor watches my eyes. I try not to react but I can't help myself. I need the release of an orgasm desperately.

He continues until the breath is hissing between my lips. I pat them with my hand, forcing some of Dave's "cum" to ooze out and run down my chin. I had been trying to save some for Trevor. It's one of the things he insists upon - that I share the other man's ejaculate with him whenever I can.

Trevor seizes on my soiled lips, his tongue driving through. I know he gets a buzz out of tasting another man's nectar so I let him have it. He spits it back and for a while we play around with it, passing it back and forth like a game of tennis, until finally, he swallows it. My hips take up the rhythm of his hand. Maybe he'll actually let me have a climax in this dirty, foul smelling little room. I squeeze his fingers with my sphincter. He pulls them out of me with a dryish sucking sound. My need aches and burns.

"I haven't given you permission to cum!" he snarls. "You don't deserve it."

But it happens anyway, and as always it almost jack-knives my body in half with the spasm.

He puts his hands on my shoulders and forces me down on my knees. I know what he wants. I raise my face and open my mouth. He peers in, then pushes two fingers inside to feel the last of Dave's white stuff. He withdraws his fingers, smears them on my cheeks and holds them in front of my face.

"Did you like having that man fuck your mouth, you little whore?"

He'll punish me whether I answer yes or no. If I say yes, I'll have admitted to taking pleasure without permission. If no, I'll insult him by indicating that following his commands is not pleasurable. I mentally flip a coin, hoping to give him the response he wants.

"Yes, Master," I reply. "Thank you for letting me suck that man's lovely big dick." He slaps my cheek so hard I see stars. Perhaps he would have done it even if I'd answered no. It doesn't matter.

"Is his as good as mine?" Another chance to be punished.

"No, Master."

There is no slap this time. I've given the right answer. He smiles and holds his fingers in front of my mouth. I lick them clean of Dave's remaining goo. Trevor shakes his cock at me, as if in anger.

"Now do it to me, bitch!" he hisses.

I start to take him between my lips. He slaps me again. "I want to cream your filthy throat!" he hisses. "Keep your head still, you dirty bitch, and let me fuck your face!"

After allowing him to drive his cock into my mouth until I'm almost retching, I take him in my hand and masturbate him the last couple of strokes. He squirts into my mouth several times, mixing his sweet, soapy cum with what's left of Dave's savoury fare. He softens. I wait for permission to swallow. He puts his cock back in his trousers and combs his hair before he grants it with a chin-nod. With great relief I let my second helping of cum slide down my throat. They say that stuff's good for the boobs. It certainly hasn't done mine any harm.

The drinks and excitement are having an effect on me. I ask permission to use the ladies room.

"If you're going to piss, do it here!" he says, pointing to the urinal bowl.

I push the filthy seat up with my foot while he blocks the doorway while he straightens his tie. I squat over the bowl. The urine-splashed, discoloured porcelain is cold against my legs. I have trouble starting. He leans toward me, slaps my face. "Go on, slut, piss in front of your Master."

Then there's a dribble of liquid from me followed by a sustained gush that would have done a horse proud. Trevor nods satisfaction. He watches, enjoying my humiliation. "Oh baby, some day I'm going to drink all your steaming piss!"

Afterwards, I wash my face in a disgusting, cracked sink, straighten my dress and tidy my dishevelled hair-piece in a graffiti decorated mirror.

I leave the room first and return to my table. Trevor waits a few seconds, and then walks back to his. If anyone has seen me come out of the men's room, they're not making an issue of it.

Trevor scans the crowd. A lot more customers have arrived. It must be shift change at the construction site. They work through the night here.

Dave's drink sits half-finished on the table. He got what he wanted; now he's gone. I finish mine, swirling it around in my mouth like a mouthwash. I finish his, too. The taste of the spermy cocktail gradually recedes.

In a while a large, heavyset black man in a worn leather jacket looks over at me from the bar. Trevor gives the signal. I smile seductively and move my shoulders back to lift my tits, shake the long dark tresses of my hair-piece. I'm good at this part.




Guilty Pleasures



I wonder why he couldn't have chosen Dave or one of the other clean cut ones. I pray silently that the man won't want anything to do with me. Maybe he'll think I'm out of his league. The trouble is, Trevor's got a thing about black men. He likes to watch them fuck me in the arse and have a good wank while they're doing it.

The black guy buys another beer and caries it toward my table.

Game on again, I'm afraid, Coleen, my dear!

I notice Trevor smiling, licking his lips in anticipation of watching and videoing this man having sex with his loving cock-slave in our special little room back home. I have the feeling the three of us are in for a long night – me especially!

The End



Guilty Pleasures



I have been living with my brother and my sister for about a year now. She was a real bitch to put up with but she was very hot. Let me describe her just to get an idea of what she looks like, her hair is natural blonde with brown eyes, she has a petite body with C+ breasts and very hot ass and hips. She didn't work so she was home most of the day, and both I and my brother worked until 4PM. 

I was in a week long vacation from work, and I decided I wasn't going to go anywhere but rather hang around the house and relax for the whole week. It was a nice spring day as I got up around 10am. After cleaning and brushing my teeth I checked the refrigerator to see if there was anything to eat but didn't find anything. I decided I was going to go out for breakfast, and wanted to ask my sister if she wanted to come with me. 

I knocked on her door and she opened the door wearing a satin nightgown that showed all her best assets. 

"You want to go get something to eat I asked" meanwhile trying not to stare at her body as I was afraid I was going to get hard as I was only wearing some briefs and a cotton shirt.

"I just had some cereal, but thanks" she answered and turned around and walked back in her room leaving the door open. I was still standing there watching her walk away as her ass swayed from side to side until I realized I better get going before she catches me staring at her.

I got dressed and went to dinner close to my house and all the while I couldn't get the image of my sister and her hot body out of my head. Since the day I met her she gave me a hard-on at least once a week, and she caught me a couple times glancing at her. I was in great need of blowing a load and I decided to go to one of those video places with booths, since I couldn't go back home with her being there.

As I cruised the city I finally found a place, but I didn't want anybody to recognize my car so I parked at a nearby business and I walked over to the video place. I went in and headed straight for the booth. I found them in the back of the store and went in. The place didn't have the best smell you could imagine but I was in desperate need of jerking off. I noticed that the booth had glory holes on the left side, until now I only heard or read about them. The door was opened on the other booth as I went in so I didn't pay any attention as to see if somebody was on the other side. 

I sat down and started watching a hardcore movie where this big tit MILF was riding a thick dick slowly milking it really good. I got hard in no time and pulled my cock out and started stroking it slowly, I barely get anytime all to myself like this so I wanted to enjoy this.

As I was doing this I heard the door on the next booth close and I glanced but I didn't stop stroking my dick. I noticed somebody got close to the hole and put the fingers on my side. I could see that they were from a female because they were really thin and the nails were all dressed up. I wasn't sure if I wanted to take the chance but the woman pulled her fingers and the next thing I saw was the tip of her tongue sticking out of the hole.

Usually I'm not the guy to take chances like this, but I was really horny and I thought to myself "what the hell you only live once". With this thought in my head I pushed my pants even lower and got close to the hole, she moved back as light from the other booth hit my dick which by now was glistening from precum. I pushed my dick through the hole and pressed my body against the wall of the booth.

She got close to my dick and I could feel her breathing inches from my dick, as she licked the head and started licking up and down the shaft. Then she stopped and I could feel the breeze on my dick as she just stood there doing nothing. 

"Why the hell did she stop" I started thinking and all kinds of thoughts started running through my head. I twitched my cock and after few seconds she grabbed me with one hand and started sucking on the head of my dick, and I realized she was just teasing me. Her mouth was warm and soft and my dick got even harder within seconds. She felt this as she moaned "Mmmhhmmm", and it just made her suck even harder now going deeper on my dick. She then stopped and used her teeth to graze the tip of my dick as she was breathing hard on my head and it felt incredible.

I couldn't believe this was happening as this secret woman was blowing me as she started sucking my dick and stroking me with the tips of her fingers. She let the dick out of her mouth as she started licking the sides of my dick while at the same time stroking the head of my dick with her palm like an expert. She put the dick back in her mouth and within minutes she was deepthroating almost half of my dick. I knew I couldn't last much longer as she took my dick in her warm mouth again and started going down fast, and then coming back up slowly while sucking hard on the head of my dick. 

I glanced at the TV in the booth and the guy had his cock between the woman's DD tits and was fucking her tits slowly. That was the last straw as I felt my balls tightening and I groaned "Fuuuck" and started shooting my load filling her mouth with cum stream after stream she swallowed every drop of it and then sucked and licked my dick clean before leaving the booth. 

It took me a couple of minutes to pull my pants back up and compose my self after a mind-blowing blowjob like that. I got out of the booth but there was nobody in the store other than the young girl working the check-out register. Then as I walked out I could see a car drive away that was very familiar. "Holly shit" I thought to myself as I realized that it was my sister. I couldn't grasp the thought that I had just gotten my dick sucked by my sister-in-law. By my bitchy sister-in-law that is. I knew she was a cock-loving slut but I didn't think she would go that far as sucking off people she didn't know.

I got in my car and drove home all the time thinking about what had just happened. When I got home she was in the bathroom taking a shower, I sat in my bedroom on my computer waiting for her to come out so I could shower myself.



Guilty Pleasures



It was a beautiful Saturday morning as I stepped outside the door of our home. As I'd been doing now for the past two years, I was off to visit my best friend Susan who lived just a short three blocks away. We usually traded off weeks, me going there, her coming here. It was my turn to walk over and spend the morning with her, sipping coffee and enjoying our weekly gossip sessions with one another. During the time we had come to know one another, our husbands had quickly become best friends as well. Like us, they usually went out golfing together at least every other weekend, which gave us more than enough reason to spend the better part of our mornings together.

And I didn't mind getting up early in order to do that either. It was my favorite time of day. The quaint little neighborhood we lived in was always so peaceful and serene. Most people not quite up yet, still sleeping in with very little traffic on the road, only the occasional jogger running by, people out walking their dogs enjoying the same calm and quiet of the morning that I was.

Susan was already standing in her front door waiting for me, a cup of fresh hot coffee in her hand which she extended towards me even before I'd left the sidewalk walking up their drive towards her.

Aside from one brief curious fling with my college roommate years ago, I had never entertained nor ventured again down that particular path. I'd have made another exception for Susan. She reminded me of Christy in so many ways, though ironically they didn't even look like one another at all. It was however her bubbly personality, her enthusiasm for adventure, and her uninhibited thinking that had first attracted her to me as a friend, and later, on some few occasions, becoming the object of the rare fantasy where I once again entertained private thoughts. Thoughts which I had never acted upon, or felt like I ever really would as tempting as they actually were.

Susan was around the same height that I was, around five and a half feet. Though a blonde, she certainly wasn't dumb, actually having an IQ somewhere around genius level, though you wouldn't have known that in simply speaking with her. She never lorded her intelligence over me, or anyone else for that matter. But she could if necessary provide statistics, logic and somehow manage to conclusively support whatever discussion she might be involved in. But like I said, on top of all that, she was attractive, if not downright sexy as hell, and she knew it too, though once again, she never really used that to her advantage either. Well...most of the time anyway.

Susan loved to flirt, not only with my own husband, but very often with me as well. It was the kind of fun sexy flirtation that was more innocent than serious, but it never failed to ignite my husband Rob's ardor, and very often even my own.

Susan wore her hair short in a very sassy, again flirtatious sort of way, where I on the other hand wore my dark brown hair long, usually in a ponytail most of the time. She'd been after me to cut it, wearing it as short as she did, but with a much more rounded face than she had, I just couldn't see getting away with the same sort of look.

Susan had another thing going for her as well, though at times I think she considered it to be more of a detriment as opposed to being an attribute. She had fairly large breasts, easily a D cup, if not a double D, as opposed to me being more of a large sized B, or small C if that. But in that too we tended to disagree. Susan was always telling me how she wished she had breasts more like my size, but that her husband Bill would kill her if she ever seriously considered having them reduced. Though I might have wished for larger breasts myself, I'd never once considered having them enlarged, perfectly content with them the way they were, as my own husband Robert so often told me he was.

As usual, Susan stood in her front door holding open the screen, coffee in hand, one for her, one for me. Her robe open. I don't know if she actually had a sash for it or not. I'd never seen it if she did. Never seen her wearing it tied together, yet when she did have a free hand, she very often walked with it clasping her robe closed. I'd even once commented on why she did that. She'd mentioned she had it around somewhere and perhaps should try and find it, though she also said, she enjoyed teasing her husband by not keeping it closed. And more importantly, he loved it whenever she did that, very often flashing him one thing or another without her ever realizing that she had. In that, she almost did play the dumb-blonde role, but I couldn't help but wonder if that wasn't deviously planned as well. She seemed to enjoy teasing her husband constantly, and loved how he appeared to be constantly aroused, constantly horny whenever he was around her. I knew from our conversations, they had a very satisfying and enjoyable sex-life. Once again, because of her perhaps, mine too had slowly gotten to be more and more like that with Rob. 

But that was indeed my very dear and best friend Susan. The way she wore, or almost didn't wear that silly robe of hers was more along the lines of Susan's personality. I never saw her with her robe closed again after that.

"Morning sweetie!" She called out upon seeing me. "Beautiful day isn't it?"

I laughed out loud good naturedly. "Beautiful view too!" I called back as I began the short walk up the driveway towards her. "I'm sure Mr. Edwards across the street thinks so too," I added as I'd seen him step outside his front door briefly, leaning over to pick up his morning newspaper before disappearing back inside. But not before he'd taken a good long look at my best friend, one breast clearly in evidence as she held up my coffee in offering to me.

She glanced over towards his house, but he'd already gone back inside. I half wondered as she did if he wasn't still standing back in the shadows beyond the window looking out at the two of us as I reached her, embracing her, and then just for fun, mauling her exposed breast briefly.

"That should make his day alright!" Susan squealed and then stepped back letting me inside. "You're in a naughty bit of a mood aren't you?" She then asked. "If I didn't know better, I might think you're just horny enough to take me to bed and have your way with me!"

"Damn near," I told her, half considering it. "Rob was almost late picking up your husband for their golf game!" I said grinning at her. I woke up to the alarm, as well as his very hard cock poking me in the back. Decided to do something about it before he left. Unfortunately, he got his jollies well enough, but left me even more aroused and horny than I already was. I guess the good thing is, he's promised to make up for it later on this evening, so I guess the extended arousal I'm in while waiting for that will be worth it."

"I could help you take the edge off," she quipped. And once again, I wasn't at all sure if she was just being her usual self, joking around, or might actually be suggesting it for real. I just smiled at her without saying anything. "Or...you could go into the bedroom and try out that new vibrator I just got and told you about. I love it, and I know you would too!" She told me.

I did actually own one, but it wasn't anything too terribly complicated or elaborate. Just a simple slim, silver vibrating device, much like the way they were in the beginning before they started getting all the new whistles and bells attached to them.

"I think I'll wait until that toy party of yours you invited me to," I told her. "Maybe then, I might actually get something different," I told her. Oddly, I really did now wish to change the subject before my panties got any wetter than they were already beginning to be. The likelihood of that happening remote however, as usually our early morning discussions centered around sex most of the time anyway, that and the latest gossip we sometimes shared, which usually did too.

"So...how's Jared doing anyway?" I asked attempting to change the subject. I should have known better.

That was another difference between us. Susan and Bill had a teenage son, about to graduate soon, though his plans were of course to eventually move out and head off to college. Rob and I had never had any children of our own, I couldn't for several reasons, though we'd once considered actually adopting a few years back. Our jobs, new careers had of course given us the excuse to never really pursue it. And though we sometimes still talked about it, it's about all we ever really did. I was only a couple of years younger than Susan was, though neither one of us really looked our age. At thirty-five, I knew I could easily pass for someone in my late twenties, and Susan easily doing that herself.

"He's fine, doing well...though lately I think he's been having girlfriend problems, if you know what I mean," she snickered. "He got in really late last night and headed straight up to bed. He tried to hide it, but I could tell he was sporting an erection. No doubt he struck out once again with his new girlfriend Stacy. She's a cock-tease if I've ever seen one!"

I was used to her uninhibited way of thinking of course, that was Susan. But hearing her talking about her son's sex-life on such a personal level still tended to throw me a little whenever she did that.

"You don't have any concerns, fears about your son having sex at this age?" I asked curiously, already knowing the answer. 

"Of course not, why should I? I certainly had by the time I was his age, as long as he's responsible for himself and his partner, shows maturity with regards to it and respects her, why should I? Frankly honey...I'm actually surprised he's still a virgin!"

"He is?" I said surprised to be hearing that. I'd actually assumed he wasn't. "How on earth do you know that?"

"Because he told me, and I believe him," she responded back easily.

I'd often wondered if there was any truth behind the old adage about feeling your ears tickling if someone was talking about you. As though to support that, seconds later I heard a door opening and then closing a bit back further into the house.

"Speak of the devil," Susan giggled. "Sounds like Jared's up." I noticed that she reached up closing the front of her robe with her hand, though as usual, she didn't do anything more than that, still sipping her coffee when he came walking in.

"Morning honey," she said as he did so, lifting her cheek in order to receive an affectionate morning kiss from him as he leaned over towards her, though eying me. Seeing me shouldn't have been much of a surprise either, I very often was on Saturdays when he'd gotten up before. But for some reason I noticed an odd expression on his face as he glanced over towards me, smiling quickly however acknowledging my presence.

"And good morning to you too Jen," he said shortening my own name with equal affection. The only other person who ever called me that had been Rob. Even Bill called me Jennefer, as did Susan, though usually I was always Sweetie or Honey whenever she spoke to me. But again, it was an odd look that I had received from him there for a moment before he moved further into the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee and then returning back towards his own room.

I didn't even ask Susan the question, merely looking at her with a curious expression on my face perhaps. She had obviously seen it too. We waited until we'd both heard his bedroom door closing again before I finally spoke.

"He really doesn't seem like his usual self, did you see the way he looked at me?" I asked wondering why he had. Susan giggled and then purposely looked down at my chest.

"Maybe that had something to do with it," she then said.

I looked down at myself, totally oblivious, and then saw what they both had. My nipples were rock hard, sticking well out of the thin tight man's sleeveless tee shirt I had on. I hadn't worn a bra, though I usually didn't a great deal of the time either. Like I said, I had smaller than average breasts and usually didn't worry about wearing one unless I was going out for one reason or another. Making the walk over to visit with Susan didn't constitute the requirement of having to wear one. My mistake. I was also wearing a lightweight floral print blouse over that, but it wasn't buttoned hanging fashionably open. I hadn't even thought about it when I had gotten dressed and walked over. Now I wish I had.

Once again Susan laughed seeing my face turning beet red.

"Honey, don't worry about it. Yours certainly aren't the first tits he's ever looked at, probably even felt, and they sure as hell won't be the last. I'm sure he's just a bit over stimulated at the moment after his frustrating night last night. You know, having a severe case of blue-balls as it were?" she said joking around about it. "And it's not the first time I've caught him looking at your boob's either, or mine for that matter either," she then added. "So...don't let it get to you. Jared's a normal average American boy whose hormones are currently running rampant at the moment. I should know, I've changed enough soiled sheets lately, not to mention finding an inordinate amount of dirty hankies as well. And never once have I seen Jared running around blowing his nose. Like I said earlier, Frankly, I wish he'd find someone and take care of his virginity issue, all this laundry I'm doing is starting to get expensive!"

That honestly did make me laugh, and I felt a little better. Though I felt something else in addition to that, which didn't. My panties were once again starting to feel a bit sticky, though I blamed my own hormonal needs left unsatisfied due to my husband's fault, which still didn't help my current problem. I stood up, excusing myself.

"Potty time," I told her. "All that coffee we're drinking, like usual, has run right through me."

"Speaking of which, I'll start up another pot while you're doing that. When you come back, I'll tell you about what Doris Jackson told me she saw yesterday afternoon!"

Doris was another friend of Susan's, not a close one, not the way we were of course, and certainly no real close friend of mine either, more passing acquaintances than anything. But she never failed to have a bit of gossip about one person or another, which very often proved to be true, so it was interesting to hear from Susan what the latest bit of news was. Getting the "Doris Report" as we jokingly referred to it, had become a natural part of our weekly get-togethers.

"Hold that thought," I said as I hurriedly retreated down the hallway towards the bathroom. I knew I'd be passing by Jared's room on my way there, which I had so often done in the past. The exception was, this time I happened to notice that his door hadn't been closed all the way. It was only open just a crack, but enough so that I caught movement coming from within his room as I started to walk by. The fleeting image of what I then saw stopping me cold, backing me up. I knew I shouldn't, and had I thought about it before then, wouldn't have. Logic and reasoning making more sense. Unfortunately at the moment, I wasn't thinking quite as clearly as I should have been. Aroused, with a very wet pussy driving my emotions had caught me off guard, as had Jared.

I found myself holding my breath as I realized what he was lying there doing. Even though the guilt of actually standing there peeking at him was already beginning to worm its way into my thoughts, I managed to hold it off for a moment more, still looking before finally giving in to it, and then hurriedly entering the bathroom. I basically collapsed down onto the toilet, only then daring to breathe, fearful that he might have heard me coming. ("Cumming?") I actually found myself thinking, realizing I was horny as hell.

For a boy...well, a man boy anyway, he had a sizeable cock, one that appeared to be considerably larger than even my husband's was. But the fact he was lying there on his bed, stroking it, furiously in fact...had taken me by surprise to say the least, and I found myself wondering what he might be laying there thinking about while he pleasured himself, and briefly wondered, entertaining the thought, "Had it been me?"

I quickly convinced myself no. Even though the last thing he'd seen before returning to his own room had been my tits...my rock hard nipples, which as I now looked down again at, were even harder than they had been. The image of his boy-prick as he lay there fisting it. I shook the thought from my head, which immediately came back as I finally took off my shorts, lowering my thong in an effort to finally pee. I touched my clit, touched it again, felt the electrical shock of doing so overwhelming as I continued to do so.

In all the years that Susan and I had been friends, I had never once masturbated in her home, let alone anywhere else for that matter, not counting the one time I had at the office I worked in. But never in Susan's home, nor anyone else's home except for my own. The fact I was doing so now, surprised me, even shocked me a little, though I simply couldn't help it as I sat there playing with myself. I came with such a rush, trying to stifle my cry of pleasure, fearful that Jared might have overheard me, even though I was still a good distance down the hallway from his room when I did. Even so, I took an inordinate amount of time to collect myself, finally peeing, and then washing my hands before re-emerging. 

His door was now closed as I walked by again heading back into the kitchen area.

"Jesus Jennefer. I was about to send out a search and rescue team for you," Susan laughed upon seeing me. "What else were you doing in there besides peeing anyway?" she joked not really meaning anything, but the look on my face must have spoken volumes as she stood there looking at me. "My God! You did didn't you?"

I never had been able to lie to her. Sure...I'd sometimes gotten away with not revealing the truth about something, though usually because her attention had been drawn elsewhere, or I'd somehow gotten lucky and changed the subject. But not this time. And to make matters worse, Susan wasn't about to let up either, not until she'd rung out the reasoning behind the fact that I actually had either. It would have been like getting involved in a really good book, and then putting it down just before reaching the ending. Wasn't going to happen.

The bottom line was, I was embarrassed however, my face having turned scarlet, though I also imagined I was still a bit flushed from the rather intense little orgasm I'd just given myself in addition to that. 

I swear, Susan had a nose, or some sort of sixth sense or something when it came to anything sexual too. Like a bloodhound, she sat there sniffing me out. I half expected her to get down on all fours and come over and smell me personally herself. She just sat there waiting, smiling at me. She'd have stayed that way too...forever, for as long as it took until I finally said something. I know. Because she'd done it before. Thank god, that she was my dearest and very best friend. I knew I could tell her anything without judgment or recrimination, though even this, was perhaps borderline in doing that.

I did however, finally find my courage. "I just...I ah, just saw...Jared, um ah....jerking off."

"What?"

For the first time since we'd known one another, I think I had actually taken her by surprise.

"You did what?" she asked again. At least she didn't look angry or anything. Just surprised, though I was pleased to see the sudden upturn of her lips a moment or two later when she spoke once more. "How?"

I sat in my chair feeling like I was on the witness stand. Susan now standing in front of me, though thank god she at least had a fresh cup of coffee in her hand. Though even then I felt like she was the bailiff, soon to be the prosecuting attorney as she swore me in.




Guilty Pleasures



"Do you swear to tell the truth? And nothing but the truth? So help you God?"

"I do Susan, I do." Though we never said any of that of course, even though I was thinking it. But I then did tell her what had happened...and exactly how it had happened, and then of course confessed to her what I had done. She sat in silence for a moment thinking it over, and then burst out laughing.

"Jesus Jen," she said shortening my name, something she rarely if ever did. "Even I've never caught him doing that. All I ever get is the aftermath!" She was still chuckling as I sat there growing redder and redder by the minute.

"So...tell me, just how big IS my son's dick anyway?"

**

Somehow we managed to get through the rest of the morning without discussing it further, though we'd forgotten all about the "Doris Report", and had in fact headed off into our own childhood explorations and discoveries. So perhaps in a way...we still were. I'd even found myself telling her all about my brief little fling with Christy, but all that seemed to do was fire her up even more. Before I knew it, she was pressing me for specific intimate details, a blow-by-blow of our encounters, obviously fascinated to be hearing it, not to mention being aroused. I didn't make an issue out of it, nor even let on that I knew what it was she was doing. But there was no denying the fact that her robe was fully open, and that her hand was moving quite noticeably down between her legs as she sat across from me at the kitchen table.

Had I not been dressed. Had I not been worried about Jared suddenly coming out of his room again, I might actually have joined her. If I thought I was horny and aroused before, I was even more so now. Even walking home shortly after I'd sat there and looked into my friends eyes as she came, I was still thinking about everything that had happened, the moisture pooling between my pussy lips as I walked home on very unsteady feet, my head swimming, my emotions raw.

Rob never knew what hit him the moment he got home from golfing. Not that he minded. But even that had barely taken the edge off.

**

Sunday afternoon I was outside in the garden doing a bit of weeding when my cell phone rang. I knew immediately that it was Susan. She had a while back taken my phone, programmed her song on it for me. I had nearly killed her because of it. Now every time I heard the song, I couldn't help but laugh. Once again, another Susanism. Hearing "I touch myself" never failed to cause me to giggle, though there had been frantic moments out in public or at work where I'd dived into my purse to answer my phone. Even then, I'd usually got more than just a few curious looks at hearing the tune. I quit worrying about it so much however when I realized just how many people had heard the song, and obviously enjoyed it by the smiles on their faces.

"Susan? What's up?" I answered glad to be taking a breather for a moment as I stepped back into the shade sitting down at our patio table.

"You sitting down?"

I laughed. "Just," I answered back. "I'm outside weeding." She didn't immediately speak, so I asked her again. "Why? What's up Susan?" I now asked a bit more curiously.

I heard a nervous giggle in her tone of voice. "I just overheard Jared speaking to one of his friends," she told me.

"About what?"

"About you!"

"Me? Why? What about?" I now asked sitting up straight in my chair. "Oh my God Susan, he didn't see me standing there behind his door did he?"

That made her laugh, and gave me a little relief at the same time when she did.

"No, at least I don't think so, he never mentioned that to his friend, but I did overhear him saying something else about you."

"What?"

"You want the Readers Digest condensed version? Or the entire story?"

At least she was teasing me, so that was a good thing. Not something Apocalyptic or earth shattering...at first.

"Since I really am sitting down, how about you give me the long version?" I asked now quite curious as to what Jared had told his friend.

"Got batteries for your vibrator?"

"Susan!" I now spat into the phone actually getting irritated with her.

"Ok, ok...but even I have to admit, it was pretty horny hearing what he said to his friend about you."

"Which was?" I said still sounding a bit put out, but likewise, too curious and just a little worried as to what it was he had said to remain totally angry with my best friend. Especially as she was the one about to tell me what it was her own son had actually said about me.

"Ok, word for word then...the long version."

I sighed on my end of the line...waiting.

"I heard him telling Peter, his best friend what he'd seen yesterday morning when he came into the kitchen."

I didn't say it, but I was thinking it. "So what...he saw my hard nipples, what men wouldn't look if given the chance if they were to walk in on a woman who did?"

She had continued on however, and it took me a moment to catch up to her, stopping her when I realized what she said.

"He said what again?"

I heard Susan snicker. "He told Peter, that he wished he could squirt his cum all over your hard stiff nipples, and then eat you out while waiting for himself to become hard again, and then have you be the one to take his virginity after that."

"He said that? He actually said that to his friend?"

"Not only that honey...but he also said he was laying in his bed, masturbating while thinking about you. He'd even left his door open a little, hoping you might walk by, look in and see what he was doing. If you had of, he'd have pretended not to notice you were standing there, and he'd have kept jerking himself off until he came, just so you could watch it."

"Oh my God! Then that means..."

"Yeah, he had actually hoped that you would. Obviously he must have known you did pass by his room, though I'm not sure he ever knew if you ever peeked in and actually saw him. But he was certainly hoping that you would."

"Jesus Susan! I'm not sure what to say, what to think about this. Fuck, what can I say except to say I'm sorry!"

"About what? About being the focus of my son's fantasy? Why should you be sorry about that? He's only human...and like anyone else, has and entertains his own thoughts."

"Yeah, but if I hadn't been sitting there with my tits poking out..."

Once again Susan laughed. "Oh honey...get real. I have a sneaking suspicion this has been going on a hell of a lot longer than either one of us has even realized. I am quite sure he's had a crush on you for a lot longer than this, and has no doubt shot several of those wads of his I've been forced to wash, just thinking about you. Which reminds me. I guess that means that you're actually responsible for all that additional laundry I've been having to do lately. Maybe I should bring over all his cum-hankies and let you wash them up for him instead!"

"You know Susan, you can really be a little shit when you want to be, you know that?"

Once again she laughed, but then so did I. 

"Anyway, that brings me to the real point of this call."

"Which is?"

Once again she paused. And this time she didn't giggle, serious when she spoke.

"How'd you like to fuck my son?"

**



Guilty Pleasures



His Story

Karl picked me up at the airport. I debated what to wear and chose a short plaid skirt, black panties, and knee socks. For a top I went with my tightest tshirt and a black bra. Karl said I was to rape him with his eyes whenever I was in his presence. 

I could tell by the way his speech was disjointed walking to his car that the way I dressed was affecting him. I also noticed he was doing his best to hide a growing bulge in his pants.

We got to his car in the parking garage. Karl put my bags in his trunk and closed it. Timing the snap of the truck with a well aimed kiss. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me firmly against his body. I could feel one hand slowly working its way down to my ass but he stopped. He took me by the hand and lead me around to the passenger door. Ever the gentleman, he was going to open the door for me. But oddly he led me past the passenger door. His gentle guidance turned slightly rough, somewhat pushing me to the front of his car.

"Do you think I can wait?" he asked.

"I would expect you to..."

That's all I could say before Karl put a hand over my mouth. With his other hand he lowered my back onto the hood of his car and then hiked up my skirt, exposing my inner thighs and panties. Karl pulled down my panties until they dangled around one of my feet. He gently spread my legs. His hand came to rest of my damp pussy lips. His middle finger traced their folds and then glided up to my clit. With the barest amount of pressure his finger gently teased the tip. His finger started to probe my hole. He was seeing if I was yet wet enough. He slipped a finger in to check. I gasped.

"I know our first time should be... romantic but I won't be able to drive with an concentration. I need to relieve myself."

He undid his belt and unzipped. He released a thick, hard cock. It looked almost angry. I looked up at his face. His normal sweet, reserved look was now one of lust and desire. What was going through his mind? Was he looking at me like I was just a piece of meat to empty a load of cum in?

"Kim, you're beautiful. You are like a gift."

With that he entered me. Slowly. Very slowly at first. He listed to the sound of my breathing, thrusting just a little deeper every time I took a breath and released.

"God. Wet. Tight. I never imagined how good a 19 year old could feel."

It was then I understood why being attracted to older men was such a rational choice. Guys my age you need to fuck like a porn queen. With an older man, he makes love to you. Makes love to your body. Consumes you.

"Slowly," I asked.

"Yes, passion."

Despite my request, his gentle, slow, long in and out thrusts because faster. And harder. Karl pulled all the way out, pulled my legs up. They were spread out like a V.

"Your tits. I need to see your tits."

I quickly hiked up my tshirt. Karl pushed my bra up over my boobs.

"God, just beautiful. Kim. You are a work of art."

Karl entered me again.

"God, I need to be in your pussy always."

He started pumping me wildly. That's when I noticed the parking garage security camera. It had clearly turned on us and I could see the lens zooming in. We were being watch. Maybe recorded. Oh god was this going to show up on the internet? "Teen slut fucks man old enough to be her dad" I could imagine being the title.

I probably should have pushed him off of me and ran but nothing, even public shaming, could make me want to stop the waves of pleasure between my legs.

Karl suddenly pulled out and shot a long stream of hot cum all over my tits. He reached down, took my panties still dangling off my foot, and wiped his cock clean with it and then did his best to clean my boobs. He casually tossed my panties over the side of the parking garage!

"But. I'll need..."

"Don't worry, beautiful. I buy you more. Much more."



Guilty Pleasures: A Part of the Fam



Hey loves! It's my first time posting in Incest/Taboo. I hope you like and please give me any feedback that could help better my writing. This story is in a series of one-shot stories so there will be no chapters. Anyway hope you enjoy and be on the lookout for my submissions in other categories as well! 

Happy reading! xoxo-I.M 

*** 

"Robbie dinner's ready!" 

Robert ground his teeth as his irritation rose. Why the fuck did she insist on calling him by the nickname he hated so much! He made his way downstairs and instantly wished he would have stayed in his room. 

His father lovingly held his stepmother's hands across the table as they made cutesy eyes at each other. The image made him want to barf and he cleared his throat loudly in order to get their attention. 

His father smiled his way and motioned to the seat nearest him. Robert made his way over and plopped down staring daggers at his stepmom. He couldn't fathom why he disliked her so much. 

"I made your favorite Robbie." 

"Don't call me that Kendra." 

"Watch your tone Robert." 

Robert threw an exasperated look at his father. He looked back to his stepmother who seemed hurt as she quietly began to shovel food onto everyone's plate. 

Over the years he effectively began to hate family dinners. Each year the atmosphere seemed to get tenser as his hostility towards his stepmother grew. He hated her and did not believe her to be any part of his family. 

His mom and dad divorced when he was fourteen. He was hurt at first but learned to get over it over time. His parents still respected each other and co-parented well but he mostly stayed with his dad. His mom felt he needed to have a positive role model in his life and she felt his father would have a tighter rein on him than she would. 

The first year was great. Although he missed his mom terribly he enjoyed the solitude his father and he shared. They went to constant sports events and he always found himself having an amazing weekend to brag about to his friends. His dad even let him have his first beer at a baseball game when he had turned fifteen. His life was looking great and it all shattered once Kendra came along. 

His dad would leave more often although he was always in high spirits. He always had some meeting or event to go to and soon Robert began hearing the name Kendra often. He didn't mind at first actually liking having the house to himself and not having someone breathe down his neck about homework. But soon the act grew old and he found himself genuinely curious as to what "business" his dad constantly had to attend to. One night he remained up way past his bedtime and was able to witness it for himself. 

His dad pulled up to the house and he could make out another shape in the car. His dad hopped out and made his way around and opened the passenger door. Out stepped a figure he couldn't quite see in the dark but he knew it had to be a woman. He heard hushed whispers and giggles and then saw his father leaning down and kissing the woman. 

He was not surprised that his father would be dating. He expected that from him at some point in time. He was more surprised that his father didn't tell him. He backed away from the window and went to bed deciding to not bring it up until his father was ready. 

A few weeks later his father did bring Kendra up and how she wanted to meet Robert. By now Robert was sixteen and far from wanting to engage in civil talk with some unknown woman. He much rather wanted to play his video games and meet up with his friends that night. 

The night finally came for him to meet Kendra and he watched his father nervously flit around the house. He straightened up, checked and rechecked the food, and repeatedly asked Robert if he looked presentable. Robert rolled his eyes and frequently reassured his father. He didn't know what all he could possibly be getting worked up about. It was just a woman. 

The doorbell rang and his father jumped up to answer. Robert stayed put texting his girlfriend on his cellphone. He heard footsteps approach the dining room and the click-clack of heels touching the floor. Once the footsteps ceased he continued to type away on his phone. He heard his father clear his throat and looked up to greet their guest. 

When his eyes finally landed on Kendra he was immediately stunned. Although he knew his family were nowhere near racist the last thing he expected to see was a black woman standing before him. She smiled brightly at him and held out her hand to him. Robert stood and shook it hesitantly as he couldn't even muster a friendly smile back. 

He began to openly peruse her as she began saying something to his father. Her skin color reminded him of this mocha latte drink his mother loved ordering at Starbucks. It was very smooth and looked like it would be soft to the touch. She was only a few inches shorter than his dad so he assumed she had to be about 5'8 which was pretty tall for a girl. She wore her hair in a sleek bob cut that made her neck seem more elegant and her face narrower. Her eyes were big. They looked pretty child-like and they were a lighter shade of brown that made them seem almost dark orange against her dark skin. 

Her breasts were not overly big but not too small. They looked to be a nice handful. She had a lean torso with a flat stomach. Her hips were wide but still slim and they tapered down into killer legs. They appeared to go on for miles and he hated the way his father damn near drooled over her. 

Dinner went fine as he kept to himself mostly only answering questions if they were directed towards him. Once Kendra left for the evening his father turned around with a huge smile. 

"Well? Do you like her?" 

"She's nice dad. Not what I expected." 

"Yeah she works at the office. That's how we met. I really like her kiddo." 

Robert saw a look of excited content cross his father's face. He didn't like it one bit. 

"So how long have you guys been talking?" 

"Over half a year now. She may be the one." 

At this Robert couldn't help the anger that rose within him. 

"Oh like how mom was?" 

"That was different Robert and you know that." 

"I didn't know anything dad. The divorce was all kept secret from me. I did get a hold of some papers one time and saw the reason behind it was infidelity. You cheated on mom!" 

His father's once happy mood skydived and he saw anger wash over his appearance. He shrunk back a little. Although he and his father shared the same height at 6'2, he was still more developed than Robert. His father exercised regularly preferring to run rather than lift weights. He was lean and slim but still sported a figure that boasted of strength. He would say he inherited most of his characteristics from his father except his eyes. While his father's were a dark brown his were a bright green he received from his mother. Other than that he and his father could have passed as brothers. 

They both had dark brown hair. His father wore his short and pushed back for work purposes while he wore his longer to his shoulders and in a wild sort of fashion. They both had small straight noses and thin lips and shared a natural tan that his mom envied being she was always pale as snow. All in all, he and his father received many praises when they were out and about. His father ignored it while Robert took full advantage of it by fucking almost half the school this school year alone. He was a hormonal teen boy so he felt he deserved a pass. 

"Robert we are not going to discuss this right now." 

Their staring match was very intense and anyone walking by could practically smell the testosterone in the air. Robert turned and made his way to his room slamming the door. He'd never confronted his father about what he knew and did not want to bring it up to his mother for fear she would relive those horrible moments again. He decided to let it all go and revisit the subject another time. 

Kendra began coming by more and more often. She was a very pleasant person with a sweet countenance but Robert could not shake not liking her. She tried engaging him in conversation, joining in on some of his pastimes that involved video games, and she even went as far to prepare him his favorite foods but he wouldn't budge. His father was beyond pissed but Kendra seemed to not notice and life went on as usual. 

Then his father proposed to Kendra and all hell seemed to break loose. His dislike of her slowly morphed into pure hate. She would try to engage in conversation and he would ignore her as if she wasn't talking. Whenever she came over he would be holed up in his room and when prompted by his dad to come to dinner always had some excuse of him already eating. 

The wedding date approached fast and by the time Robert was seventeen his father was married to Kendra and she had moved into their home. The fact of this angered him so and he began to stay away from home as much as possible. Luckily Robert was really into sports so he gravitated towards playing harder and better. He was always the first to show up to practice and the last to leave. Soon he was the star player for his school and had college scouts from all over coming to see him. 

By the time he turned eighteen Kendra was tolerable, although he still found he disliked her. For the life of him he couldn't understand what she did to possibly get so under his skin but he knew there was no getting around it. 

He finished up his dinner at the table and as usual put his dishes in the sink and made his way upstairs. He heard hushed whispers as he left and paused around the corner in order to listen in. 

"Phillip he won't like it." 

"Kendra we eventually have to tell him. What more do you want me to do?" 

"He doesn't like me! I doubt he ever will." 

"Kendra he's still a growing man. Sometimes you just have to let things work themselves out. He'll come around I promise." 

"Fine, and you'll be the one to tell him." 

He heard chairs scooting and made his way to his room. What could they possibly be withholding from him? 

*** 

Robert twisted the bat in his hand as he stood over home plate. He had his eyes trained on the pitcher as he steadied his breathing and calmed his racing heart. Hit the ball Robert. Hit the ball Robert. His mantra helped him really focus on the task at hand. 

The pitcher threw and he striked out. Fuck! Come on Robert focus! His eyes flitted over towards the crowded stands. Kendra stuck out like a green thumb in the mostly white crowd. His eyes were able to find her easily and he saw a big grin decorate her face as she put up two thumbs up. He snorted and rolled his eyes as he focused back on the pitcher. He threw a fast ball. 

"Strike two!" 

Robert what the fuck! Hit the fucking ball! Over the sea of cheers and jeers he could distinctly hear Kendra's voice. 

"You've got it Robbie!" 

The nickname irritated him and when the pitcher threw his final ball a loud crack sounded and it went soaring out of the field. Loud cheers began to permeate the air as Robert helped two of his teammates on 2nd and 3rd base run to home plate as he did his circle and ran as well. Their team won with a score of 12 to 10 and everyone swarmed him with congratulations and high-fives. Robert couldn't contain his happiness and even greeted Kendra with a smile as she approached. 

"I knew you could do it Robbie." 

"Thanks Kendra." 

He was surprised to see her in attendance since she mostly only came if his father was around and he knew he had an important business meeting today. 

"I knew someone had to be here seeing as it's the last game of the season." 

He smiled at her actually feeling somewhat grateful that she had remembered although he made it a point not to tell her most things that transpired in his life. They chatted for a few more seconds. Before coaches called his name. 

"I'll be in the parking lot waiting for you." 

"Okay." 

He made his way to the locker room and was greeted with more praise from fellow teammates. He was packing up when Kyle a teammate he did not care much for approached him. 

"Dude was that your stepmom? She's fucking hot!" 

Robert glared at him and continued to ignore him as he finished gathering his things. Kyle continued to talk and other teammates felt the need to jump in as well. 

"I don't know how you do it man. I'd be trying to fuck her every night." 

"Hell I would just need my dick sucked. Did you see how plump her lips were?" 

"Fuck that she had a nice ass." 

This type of talk was never surprising to hear in a boy's locker room. They did it all the time and even Robert had joined in on a few occasions when they were discussing someone's hot sister. But today he felt his anger rising to substantial proportions. Kyle was the ringleader of all of this. 

"I'd bet she fucks like a wild animal." 

That last comment was the straw that broke the camel's back. Robert slammed Kyle against the locker. A hush fell over the locker room as the two alpha males exchanged heated eye contact. 

"Don't talk about her like she's some whore." 

"I never said she was a whore. She just looks like a great fuck toy." 

At that Robert couldn't have stopped his fist slamming into Kyle's face even if he wanted to. He may not have liked Kendra but he would be damned if he allowed anyone to talk about her like she was a bad person. He was showering Kyle in blows before he felt a few teammates pull him away. Kyle held a bloody nose and one of his eyes seemed to be swelling shut. Robert didn't feel satisfied and wanted to evoke more onto him but knew he would get into even more trouble. 

He pulled away from the guys and grabbed his bag shoving his way out of the locker room. He knew he'd probably catch hell from his coaches tomorrow but he didn't care. He was beyond pissed. 

He made his way to the parking lot and saw Kendra leaned against her car texting on her phone. At seeing her he felt more anger began to bubble up. 

"Hey Robbie how about—" 

"Take me home Kendra." 

Her head shot up at his tone and her face dropped at the anger she saw decorating his features. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I don't want to talk about it." 

He made his way over to the passenger side of the car and threw his things in. He jumped into the car slamming the door. After a while he noticed Kendra had not budged. He honked the horn and she jumped at the sudden noise. She narrowed her eyes at him and he saw her marching over to his side of the car. God he didn't have time for this shit! She swung open his door and this was the first time he could genuinely say he saw real anger gracing her features. 

"What the heck is wrong with you Robert? You were all happy a few minutes ago now you look like someone pissed you off." 

"I want to go home." 

"We're not going anywhere until you talk to me! I think I've been quite reasonable in trying to get to know you Robert. You shut me out and ignore me half the time and when I do want to talk it's never the right time. Well make it the right time!" 

He finally felt any traces of his sanity evaporate as he pushed out of the car. He grabbed Kendra's arms and had her pressed against her car hard. She parked in the far back by nearby trees so they were effectively sheltered from any potential onlookers. 

"I don't have to fucking explain myself to you Kendra! You may be a part of whatever family you and my father have going on but I am not a part of that. I have my mom and dad. That's my family and you need to get that through your head." 

"I'm as much a part of your family as you are mine Robbie—" 

"Stop fucking calling me that! You're the only one who does and I'm getting sick and tired of it! I'm not a fucking kid!" 

They both angrily glared at each other. Kendra began struggling to get loose and a part of him enjoyed being able to control her. 

"Let go of me." 

"I will when I'm fucking ready." 

He was so pissed. At himself, at Kyle, and at fucking Kendra. He glanced down between their bodies to look at her outfit. Fitted jeans adorned her long legs and cupped nicely around her round ass. A baseball cap covered her long hair that she had been growing out since he'd met her. And a short tight top left a small amount of her stomach exposed and showed a bit of cleavage. She blended in well and looked like she could pass as a college student if she wanted. She didn't look like a whore but he could see why the guys were talking about her. She had an amazing body and he felt his anger rise as his dick began to swell at his observation. 

"Robert let's go now." 

"No Kendra. You want to know why I'm so fucking angry? Because you've showed up and effectively ruined a day that was supposed to be great for me. All the guys were in the locker room talking about all the dirty things they wanted to do to you." 

"Boys will be—" 

"I don't want to hear that shit. You should stayed home." 

Kendra started to squirm harder away from him. 

"Get the fuck off of me!" 

Robert had never heard Kendra curse before. In fact if he did it was never directed at him. Her eyes grew wide as she noticed her slip up. By now his anger had subsided substantially but it was replaced by a feeling he knew all too well and hated. His cock strained against his baseball tights as he watched her bottom lip began to tremble. 

"I'm sorry Rob—" 

Before she could finish his lips were crushing hers. She let out a surprised gasp and he quickly darted his tongue into her mouth. He moaned as he tasted mint from the peppermints she always snacked on as if she had an addiction. He pushed his tongue deeper and rubbed against her tongue enticingly. He pulled away when he heard a car honk and let go of her abruptly. 

He looked around and saw the parking lot was cleared with only a few cars being scattered about and far away from them. He looked back at her and saw her eyes wide as if she was a deer in headlights. He immediately felt like shit after realizing what he had just done. He'd kissed Kendra. His stepmother. His father's wife. He felt like he would be sick. He hopped back inside of the car and closed the door. 

A few moments passed before Kendra got inside of the car and started it up. After a few minutes she handed him an envelope. He opened it and read the sappy card he knew Kendra had to have picked out. She sprawled a little message of her and his father being proud of his achievements and inside sat five hundred dollars with a note saying to do as he will with it. If he could feel even more like shit he did. 

Once they pulled up to the house he didn't wait for the car to stop before jumping out and going to his room and slamming the door. Loud music began to blare from his room as he made his way towards his bathroom to strip and take a hot shower. Once in the shower his mind started to play back scenes of how soft Kendra's lips were against his. He felt his cock swelling rapidly and cursed as he turned the hot water completely off leaving freezing cold water to batter him. What the fuck was happening to him? He got out and dried off putting on sweats and a white t-shirt. Somehow through the loud music he heard a timid knock at his door. He turned the music off and walked over opening it. 

Kendra stood before him with a hot plate of his favorite food. He loved chicken fried steak, mac and cheese, and mashed potatoes. He stared down at the food hearing his stomach growl. She smiled and handed it to him. He took it but they both stood in awkward silence. 

"Listen Robbi—uh Robert. I know today had a lot of high emotions going on with the game and the guys hounding you, so we can just pretend like it never happened. I don't hold anything against you at all. I just wished we had a better relationship. I mean I know you might not feel like I'm a part of your family but I do see you as part of mine." 




Guilty Pleasures: A Part of the Fam



Robert nodded. He took a deep breath and then finally resolved that he needed to stop treating Kendra like shit as if she had done something to him. She was one of the nicest people he had ever met and she had been nothing but kind and honest to him. 

"Okay Kendra. I apologize for everything. I want us to work on our relationship too." 

A bright smile adorned her face and she gave him a hug being careful not to knock his food out of his hand. 

"Enjoy your food." 

She smiled and walked off. He looked down at his plate feeling his mouth salivate. He would never tell her but she always made his food the best. 

*** 

The next few weeks went by fairly well. His father was the happiest he had seen him in years. Kendra and him actually were getting along and able to talk. He rarely ignored her and actively engaged in conversation whenever she spoke. His father had no idea what caused the drastic change of events but he relished in it. His family was finally coming together. 

Robert was leaving school early because his father wanted him to stop by the office for lunch. He pulled up to the office building and made his way to the 10th floor where his father's office was situated. Once there he flirted with the secretaries that were there. After a while his father retrieved him and they made their way towards his office. Once inside he saw his father had already ordered pizza. He sat down and took a few slices and began eating while he waited on his father to get situated. 

He knew something was up because his father looked tensed. He figured it had something to do with the conversation he eavesdropped on Kendra and his father having. His father took a deep breath before intertwining his fingers together on his desk. 

"I'm really glad to see you and Kendra's relationship improving so significantly. I really feel like we all are a real family now." 

Robert nodded as he waited for his father to get whatever he needed of his chest. 

"You may not have known this, but Kendra and I have been trying to have a baby." 

Robert immediately lost his appetite. He put down the pizza he was currently munching on and leaned back in his chair. Was his dad serious right now? 

"Now I know that I should have brought it to your attention earlier, but Kendra and I had to discuss particulars and make sure this is something she really wanted. I'm 36 and she's only 28 and I don't want to deprive her of having children. I actually wanted to have more after you but I was never presented with that opportunity." 

Robert felt empty. But then that emptiness gave way to anger. So this was the plan all along. She wanted to get on his good side so that she could start her own perfect little family. He couldn't believe his dad actually wanted to go along with this. 

"Children? You've only been married a year. Don't you think it's a little early dad?" 

"We've considered that, but she's ready and I'm not getting any younger. Plus you will be going off to college this year and we'll need a little extra activity in the house." 

She planned this out perfectly. Robert couldn't believe he'd actually given her the benefit of a doubt. He'd tried to be more accommodating and nicer because he felt she wanted them all to be a family when in actuality she just needed him complacent so that she could move on to putting children in the house and getting rid of him. His thoughts felt irrational even to himself but that bubbling hate began to make its way up his spine. 

"This is complete bullshit." 

"Robert!" 

"No father! She has you wrapped around her little fingers! How convenient that she wants kids when I'm on my way out! How convenient that she magically wants us to be a family after all these years of being okay with me not liking her. Well you two will be a family with YOUR children! I won't be a part of that." 

"You are as much a part of this family as—" 

"No I won't be! These kids will all grow up together with both a mom and a father. I never got that opportunity and I'll just be the stranger. The fucking outsider!" 

"They will be your brothers and sisters!" 

"Half-brothers and half-sisters father! Let's not forget that my mother is not a part of this equation. But she didn't have a choice seeing as you couldn't keep your dick in your pants. I bet Kendra helped in messing up your marriage too!" 

His father rose and had his hands firmly planted on the desk's surface. 

"You know nothing of what happened so I suggest—" 

"I know enough! You are a cheater! And who's to say once you've used Kendra for all she's worth, although God knows she probably deserves it, who's to say you won't go and cheat on her!" 

"Your mother cheated on me Robert!" 

Robert couldn't believe his father would lie about something like this. He stood abruptly and pushed his chair away from the desk. 

"Mom wouldn't do that!" 

"You act like you were aware of our relationship! I fucking lived it Robert! The phone calls, the late night texts, the weekend visits to her parents. She was fucking cheating on me! I caught her. I hired a private investigator and I caught her red handed. The pain was too much and the affair had went on to long. I couldn't do it and she was not going to force the issue." 

"I don't believe you!" 

Robert began making his way towards the door to leave. This anger he experienced was something he never felt before. He felt like his heart would burst out of his chest and his vision was colored red. As he touched the doorknob his father left him with parting words. 

"Whether you accept it or not, Kendra and I will have children. Now you can be mature about this and decide to be in your future siblings lives or you can go on having this chip on your shoulder at the world. The choice is yours." 

Robert sent a glare his father's way. He was met with a similar glare before exiting the office and slamming the door behind him. 

Once in his car he was flying down the highway in a rage. He couldn't calm himself and needed to get to the bottom of things. He wanted to speak to his mother but his mind kept driving him towards images of Kendra evilly plotting for HER ideal family. He pulled up to his house and felt a fire began to start in him when he saw Kendra's car in the driveway. They were about to have the argument of a lifetime and he gave no fucks if her feelings were hurt. 

He made his way inside and heard soft music coming from the master bedroom. He briskly made his way towards the room and opened the door. His mind seemed to blank at the scene before him. Kendra wore a see-through gold nightie. Her breasts were cupped and pushed up to give the illusion of being larger. The sheer material glittered with every move she made. Her body seemed to glow and glitter and she hummed softly as she went about the room lighting candles and placing roses everywhere. She looked stunning and her hair was loose and in soft curls around her shoulders. 

His anger only increased at the fact that his cock was slowly swelling at the sight of her. He remained still and when she finally turned and saw him he enjoyed the startled gasp as she dropped an unlit candle. 

"Oh my god! Robert!" 

She scrambled for a nearby towel and wrapped it around herself. The image was still burned into his head and it didn't help that her long delicious legs were still on display. 

"I'm sorry I should have locked the door. Do you need help with something?" 

She was apologizing for him barging into her room? Why the fuck was she so nice and calm about this! He took a few steps in and slammed the door behind him. He knew she could read the resentment on his face. Her smile became nervous as her eyes timidly darted from his angry green orbs to the door. 

"You are very convincing." 

Her nervous smile instantly dropped and he was left to see confusion mar her features. 

"W-What are you talking about?" 

"You wanted so badly for me to include you in my idea of family just so you could then manipulate my dad into having babies with you. You knew he wouldn't want to start a family unless I liked you." 

"That's not it at all. I wanted—" 

"You're a fucking liar!" 

Kendra shut her mouth tightly. She'd never seen him angry except for one other time and that led to him kissing her. She didn't want to think about what could happen if she continued to agitate him. 

"Listen Robert, you don't understand! I wanted us to get along not just so your dad and I could have kids but because—" 

She couldn't finish her statement. Robert had already marched towards her and ripped the towel away from her. She tried to pull away from him but he had grabbed a hold of both her wrists in one of his hands. 

"S-Stop Robert." 

Robert's mind seemed to be clouded by his anger and lust. He didn't want to be anywhere near Kendra but his dick badly wanted to be planted firmly in her. His other hand rubbed down her side reveling in the soft silky texture of the negligee molding to her body. 

"I bet you were setting this all up for my dad to walk in and fuck the shit out of you. I bet you wanted him to finally put a baby in you." 

"Robert please—" 

His hand snaked its way under her nightie bunching it around her waist. He went further up until he could feel her soft mound in his hand. He found a nipple and tweaked it hard. A gasp escaped her as she tried to pull away. He jerked her against his chest and looked down into her scared eyes. His cock pulsed at the sight and he crushed his lips into hers. She wouldn't open her mouth and he pulled harder on her nipple until she relented. She opened her mouth slowly and he pushed his hungry tongue in to seek hers out. When he felt the silkiness of her tongue and her breath pant out he damn near came in his pants. He moved her back until she bumped into the bed and fell onto it. Robert looked down and saw the fear written on her face. For a split second he asked himself what he was doing but once his eyes landed on her body all rational thought left him. 

He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants stepping out of them. He pulled his shirt over his head and saw Kendra's wide mouth gape at his cock. He was not overly huge but he was never told he was small. He was a pretty average size at six inches but he was very wide and was told by many girls he always could reach spots in them they had no clue existed. He shot a predatory smile her way and he saw her began to scramble to the other side of the bed. He grabbed her ankle pulling her back to him effortlessly. 

"Robert please. Just stop this now and we can forget this whole thing ever took place." 

"Quiet Kendra." 

He grabbed her other ankle and pulled her legs wide, lewdly showing her chocolate pussy to his hungry eyes. Robert had never been with a black chick before but now regretted never having done so. He stared at Kendra's hairless pussy and immediately felt the need to bury his face between her plump lips. They were almost as plump as the lips on her face and he wanted to feel them squeezing around his cock. 

He pumped his cock a few more times as he worked this memory of Kendra spread before him like a slut into his brain. He was sure he could masturbate for years from this image. His cock had never been this hard in his young life and it was to the point where it actually began to hurt. Kendra tried one more time to talk some sense into him. 

"R-Robert please d-don't." 

He saw the tears running down her cheeks and almost felt bad. Until his mind started to paint a picture of little crumb snatchers running around the house. He immediately lost any inkling of guilt he had. He climbed onto the bed and now hovered over Kendra. He pulled her nightie down exposing her chocolate tipped nipples to his hungry eyes. He grabbed one pinching it between his fingers. He heard a small whimper leave her and felt his cock jump. He bent down taking her other breast into his mouth. He sucked hard and then licked lazily over her puckered nipple. 

He teased her breasts for a while before finally having enough. Pushing her legs up, he settled in between her legs. His cock nudged at her entrance and he reveled in the velvety softness of her pussy lips. He grabbed his cock rubbing it up and down her slit. He was surprised to feel she was soaking wet. He looked up at her and she looked away shame evident in her eyes. 

He began pushing his cock into her and felt a deep surge of desire shoot throughout his body. He could hear the quiet moan of Kendra as her back arched from the bed. Without waiting to see if she was accommodated to his girth he shoved the rest of his cock into her leaving his balls to sit nestled against her plump ass. Kendra let out a whimper and tried to push him away. 

"Stop fighting it Kendra. It's already done." 

Her eyes were screwed shut and after a while of no movement from either of them he watched her open her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheek. He began thrusting in and out of her. Each time he hit her cervix his cock would flex and she would intake a sharp breath. Before long he had a steady rhythm and he knew he would cum soon. He began pounding into her harder as he felt his balls tightening. He kissed her neck before biting hard against it. He heard a moan escape her and this caused him to thrust into her harder. 

"R-Robert..." 

Robert pulled away and looked down into her worried face. He sat back and pulled her onto his lap as he continued to jack hammer into her pussy. Her breasts bounced in his face and he couldn't help taking one of her chocolate peaks into his mouth. 

"R-Robert please, d-don't cum in me!" 

He released her breast and looked down between them. Seeing his white cock spear in and out of her pussy was undoing his resolve. 

"What?" 

"D-Don't cum in me. I'm ovulating!" 

Robert's mind was in a different place as he felt his balls tightening. Kendra could feel the difference in his pace and she tried to pull away from him. 

"Don't cum in me! Please!" 

"Fuck!" 

Robert let out a growl that sounded savage to his own ears. He pulled Kendra down hard onto his lap biting down hard on her nipple. He felt her flutter around his cock then clamp down hard. A loud moan escaped her and he felt his semen shooting deep against her cervix. He'd never came this hard in his life and couldn't believe his cock was still spurting more of his juice inside of her. 

He felt a calm settle over him as he heard Kendra began to cry harder than before. He removed her from his lap and watched as she scurried away from him and pulled her knees to her chest. He sat dumbfounded at what actually just took place between them. For the life of him he couldn't feel guilt for what he'd done. In fact he felt a peace he couldn't remember ever feeling. 

Kendra sat sniffling as her crying subsided. She couldn't believe Robert had done this to her but worst yet that she'd actually had an orgasm from it. She wanted to take a hot shower and forget this had ever happened. She flinched as she felt warm hands pull at her ankle. 

"Robert just leave me alone." 

"I'm just cleaning you Kendra." 

Kendra allowed him to pull her down until she was flat on her back. He pushed her legs up and she felt an odd sweep of embarrassment cross over her. She didn't like him looking at her most delicate parts. 

Robert looked at her swollen pussy lips. He pushed her legs further back causing her lips to involuntarily part showing him her dewy pink insides. He saw her pussy quiver and then a gush of his white cream began to leak out of her. He felt his cock stir but knew he wouldn't touch her again. He took the warm wash cloth he had and began cleaning her. Once done he moved away and Kendra brought her legs up to her chest again. 

"I'm sorry for what this might be doing to you but I'm not sorry for what I did Kendra." 

Kendra looked up and saw a face that resembled so perfectly the man she called her husband. The only startling difference the green eyes that seemed to peer into her soul. She looked away and felt ashamed at the wave of arousal that seemed to go straight to her core. 

"Just get out Robert." 

Robert left quietly and without a fight. He made his way to his room feeling an exhaustion he hadn't felt since football tryouts his ninth grade year. He passed out onto his bed. 

A few hours later Robert awoke to hushed sounds. He made his way downstairs and heard Kendra and his father fucking. He felt like he should be mad since he knew what the end result would be but for some reason the peace from before still settled within him. 

*** 

Kendra's swollen belly looked about ready to pop. She sat at the kitchen table hungrily wolfing down a pizza her husband made. She glanced over at the two men staring at her like she had grown a second head. 

"What?" 

She said around a mouthful of food. 

"I just have never seen you so ravenous." 

"I'm eating for two Philip!" 

Robert watched on in fascination as Kendra ate the entire pizza by herself. She let out a satisfied sigh as she sat back and rubbed her hand lovingly over her stomach. Robert's dad gathered up the trash and made his way into the kitchen. Kendra smiled sheepishly at Robert. 

"Sorry I'm being a pig." 

"Stop Kendra. You're pregnant you're supposed to eat like that." 

She smiled and tried to stand. Robert rushed over helping her up and over to the living room area. Ever since that faithful night that transpired between the two Robert and Kendra had been on amazing terms. His father loved it and asked no questions while Kendra and he ignored the big elephant in the room. When they all found out two months later that Kendra was pregnant an excitement filled the house as they started making preparations for the baby. Robert was even active in researching the best products and safety features to install around the house for the baby. Once they found out it was going to be a girl the room was immediately painted a lavender color and anything that even looked remotely girly was bought and added to the already stuffed room. 

"Philip!" 

Robert's dad made his way into the living room. 

"Yes honey." 

"Chocolate triple fudge ice cream and a can of sardines please." 

Robert laughed at the disgusted face his father wore. 

"Jesus Kendra, that's a very peculiar taste you have." 

Kendra smiled brightly and patted her stomach. 

"What baby wants, baby gets. Now hurry up, the grocery store closes in thirty minutes." 

Robert heard his father gather his keys and then the click of a door as he left out. Robert stood to go to his room but was stopped by Kendra's hand on his. 

"Robert, we need to talk." 

Robert already knew what she wanted to talk about and he felt a nervousness envelope him. He sat back down and made sure to have some distance between him and his stepmother. 

"Sure Kendra. What's up?" 

"I know it's been a huge change for you with all of this excitement around the baby. And I also know that we have been tip-toeing around each other. I just want you to know that everything is swept under the rug. I want this to be a new beginning for us and the family and I don't want either of us harboring past grudges. The past is the past and can't be changed and for everyone's sake I think we should move on." 

"I agree." 

He sheepishly looked over at Kendra who wore her pregnancy well. He knew she would make an amazing mother and he felt pride at the fact that he could call her his stepmom. 

"I'm sorry I ever did what I did. I try to justify it by saying I was angry and that my hormones were all over the place but I know now there's no excusing what I did to you. I hope you can forgive me and I'll do anything to make sure that the baby and you feel welcomed." 

He saw the tears trickling off of Kendra's face and had no idea if it was really due to what he said or due to her erratic emotions. She pulled him into a tight hug and then he felt her stiffen. 




Guilty Pleasures: A Part of the Fam



"Robert—oh my God! My water broke!" 

Robert jumped up and felt a surge of nerves shake him. 

"Grab my bag and get the car. We have to get to the hospital." 

Robert ran to his parents' room grabbing the bag and making his way towards Kendra who was already at the door. 

"Fuck!" 

She growled out the expletive as she bent forward holding her stomach. Robert ignored the way his cock twitched at the colorful word that left her mouth. He made his way towards her and she batted his hands away. 

"Just a contraction is all. Bring the car around." 

Robert grabbed his keys and ran outside while dialing his father's cell. 

"What does she want now—" 

"Dad! Kendra's water broke. Meet us at the hospital!" 

"Shit!" 

He heard a crash as his father dropped a jar of something. 

"I'm on my way." 

Robert hopped out assisting Kendra into the car and made his way over to the hospital. 

*** 

Robert paced the waiting room not liking the wait. Kendra was rushed in and to the back over two hours ago. Once his father was there he was ushered to the delivery room while Robert was left to his own thoughts. He'd never seen a birth and didn't know what to expect, how long it would take, or was Kendra and the baby fine. All these thoughts swirled around his mind. 

After another hour Robert's father stepped out from the back with a huge smile on his face. 

"Ready to meet your sister?" 

Robert felt relief swarm over him as he nodded with a huge smile to match his dad's. He followed his dad to the back and walked in. Kendra sported a huge smile as she held a small bundle in her arms. She looked over at Robert and smiled. 

"Come meet Madison Rae Brinston." 

Robert made his way over careful to hold the baby's head. He was shocked by how small she was. He peered into the face of the little Angel who was now his sister. Her skin was a very light caramel color. Her head was full off bouncy golden curls. A small yawn left her mouth and then her eyes fluttered open. Bright green eyes that matched his own peered back at him before closing once again. 

He felt a chill run down his spine. His face looked up at shock at Kendra who was watching him intently. 

"Philip can you go grab me a water please." 

"Sure honey." 

His dad left leaving him and Kendra alone. 

"I-Is she mine?" 

Kendra nodded her head in the affirmative. Robert felt sick as he handed Madison back. 

"I'm sorry—" 

"Robert I wasn't kidding when I said we're leaving things in the past. This is your sister and she is now a part of our family." 

Robert nodded as he felt relief swarm his system. But something else started to sweep over him as he regarded Kendra. Her hair flowed softly around her shoulders which he didn't understand seeing she was just in delivery. Wasn't she supposed to look a mess? A glow permeated her skin and a slight pout on her lips caused him to harden. He looked down at her breasts which had grew a size bigger since becoming pregnant and noticed her nipples poking through her hospital gown. He looked away. 

What type of animal was he? He had just found out he impregnated his dad's wife and now he was thinking of ploughing her again! 

"Robert." 

He looked at Kendra who had an unreadable expression on her face. 

"Come here." 

He walked over and stood awkwardly by her bed. She reached out and grasped his hand pulling him closer. She beckoned him to bend down. He leaned down apprehensively and she kissed him softly on the lips. She pulled away and a heated look passed between them. 

"Just so you know, your father would like to have another baby once Madison is older of course. Maybe in another year or two." 

Robert continued to look at his stepmother who he had grown quite fond of over the past few months. 

"It'll take a lot of practice...we'll probably need help." 

Robert's eyes darkened as he leaned in and kissed Kendra tenderly. 

"Anything you want." 

She smiled and looked back down into the face of their daughter. Robert stared at the angel in her hands and felt a slew of emotions overtaking him. 

He finally felt a part of the family. 

~Fin~