Getting Ready For Prom

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Chapter Five

Again, the next morning, Bob awoke to an empty bed, Cindy having gotten up and gone to school. That day was less troublesome than the previous one. Conditions had changed. They were lovers now, plain and simple. It might be taboo, but her consent and enthusiasm were established beyond any doubt. He did worry a bit about the sperm he'd deposited next to the opening to her womb, but hoped she was right, and that there was no egg available for his little swimmers to find.

He got a lot of work done that day, finishing three projects. He was out delivering them when Cindy got home from school. She was finishing up making a batch of tuna and noodles when he got home. All she was wearing was an apron.

"Hi," he said. "How are you?"

"I'm wonderful," she said, beaming.

"You look good," he said, feeling his cock respond to her appearance.

"Thank you, sir. Wash your hands. It's ready."

"I'm ready for something else," he said, grinning.

"Later," she said, primly. "I haven't done my homework yet."

"It's Friday night," he observed. "You can do your homework tomorrow."

"I have a date tonight," she said. "If it goes well I'll probably sleep late tomorrow."

"A date?" He felt a stab of jealousy streak through him.

"Yes," she said, simply.

"Okay, then," he said, suppressing his enviousness.

"So go wash your hands. This is better when it's hot."

He did so and returned to the kitchen to find the table set and the food ready. She had removed the apron and was sitting at the table, stark naked.

"You're killing me, here," he sighed.

"You've seen me this way hundreds of times," she said. "I'm surprised you still have your clothes on."

"If I take my clothes off you'll see how jealous I am that you're going on a date," he admitted.

"Awww. You're sweet. But I have to go on dates. It would look strange if I stopped dating and didn't have a boyfriend."

"The idea of you having a boyfriend is even worse," he said. "But I understand. Just don't do with your dates what you did with me."

"Of course not," she said. "I don't want to do that with anybody else. Not yet. Maybe some day. Do you want me to tell you when that is?"

"No," he said, sitting down. "Fathers don't want to know when that happens."

"Okay, then. My lips will be sealed," she said.

"Anyway, that's years in the future," he said. "Right?"

"Years," she agreed.

She served him and then herself, and they ate in silence for a while.

"So ... who's the lucky guy?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"You'll see," she said.

"Do I know him?"

"You've seen him before."

"You're being awfully mysterious about this," he said.

"A girl likes to have some secrets," she responded.

He began to worry that she was having second thoughts about all that had happened, and was intentionally arranging to be away from him, at least for one night.

"Cindy," he started. She looked up. "About last night."

"Last night was perfect," she said. "Don't worry."

"Okay," he sighed.

But his appetite had fled. He ate a few more bites and then did what he felt like he should do.

"I'm full. You go ahead and get ready for your date. I'll clean up in here," he said.

"Okay," she said. She got up, glorious in her nudity. His groin tightened even more, even though his penis couldn't get any harder than it already was.

He finished in the kitchen and then went to sit down in the double recliner. There was nothing on TV he wanted to watch, so he booted up Netflix and sifted through its offerings. He'd been watching the new episodes of The Black List, and clicked on that. He was halfway through an episode when he saw movement in his peripheral vision. He looked to see Cindy, who had struck a pose.

"How do I look?" she asked.

She was wearing her prom dress. And it was obvious she'd left off the Band-aids. Her fat nipples clearly announced they were unencumbered and ready to come out and play.

"You forgot something," he said. His cock had gone soft. Now it reared its head again.

"No I didn't," she said.

"You're going out like that?" He frowned.

"Not exactly," she said. "I'm going to do prom again ... except it's here ... and you're my date."

She giggled at the look on his face.

"Come on. Dance with me."

She went to the stereo and he learned she'd made a CD with a mix of her favorite songs, all of them slow.

"I should go change into something more suitable to be out with a beautiful woman," he said.

"You're fine," she said. "Just dance with me."

They danced, there in the living room, swaying slowly through three songs before she spoke.

"You know, I've heard that boys have expectations of how things will go after prom."

"Have you?"

"Uh huh," she said. "I hear boys expect for naughty things to happen."

"They do," he admitted.

"What kind of things?" she asked.

"Well, it might start during prom," said Bob. "A boy might want to do this."

He slid his hand down her naked back and dipped it into her dress. Immediately he felt the stiff fabric of her garter belt and his cock lurched in his pants. He pushed it against her.

"You can't do that," she said, pushing back at his stiffness. "That's very naughty."

"Then he might do this," said Bob, removing his hand and sliding it around her hip and up to cup one soft breast.

"Absolutely not allowed," she said, pressing the breast into his hand. "Way too naughty."

"After prom he'd try to get you alone, to make out," said Bob.

"Making out is okay," she said.

He took her to the couch and laid her on it, crushing her against the back as he lay down half on her. After three or four long, hot kisses, he moved is hand to her leg, pulling her dress up so he could slide his hand under it and up to her thigh.

"Careful, Buster," she said.

"He'll try to touch your panties," Bob warned.

"Nice try," she said, giving him several nipping kisses. "He can't."

"He'll try," insisted Bob, sliding his hand higher.

"He'll fail," she said. "I left my panties off."

Bob's hand shot up to feel warm, slippery lips.

"Too naughty!" she said.

"How about this?" asked Bob, sliding a finger into her clasping heat.

"No! Stop that this instant!" she said, as she lifted a leg to give him more room. "My daddy would be furious with you. He'll beat you up if you don't stop."

"I'm not scared of your daddy," he said, moving his finger around inside her. "Let's get it on. I know you want to."

"No way!" she said. "I don't do that kind of thing."

"You can tonight. It's prom. It's a special night. It's okay to do it on prom night."

"I don't think my daddy would agree," she said, panting now.

"Your daddy isn't here," he said. "Show me those pretty titties of yours."

"No! And they aren't titties. They're breasts, you beast."

Without warning, she pushed him hard and he rolled to land awkwardly on his back on the floor. She was up in a flash and ran to the front door.

"I'm leaving! You went way too far. I'm not that kind of girl!"

With that she stormed out the front door, leaving Bob bewildered, still sitting on the floor.

Then the door opened and she came regally through it.

"I'm home," she announced in her normal, everyday voice.

Bob levered himself up off the floor and sat on the edge of the couch. She was obviously still acting out some plan.

"How'd it go?" he asked, hoping he'd said the right thing.

"It was wonderful!" she gushed. "I had such a good time."

Suddenly, Bob recognized that was just what she'd said when she came home from prom that night. He tried to remember what he'd said, but couldn't.

"Well, I'm tired," she said. "I'm going to bed."

"Oh," he said. "Okay."

"Don't you want a good night hug and kiss?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. "Sure."

"Good," she said.

She came to him, hugged him and then brought her lips to his for a kiss.

That's when he smelled the alcohol on her breath. He almost laughed, knowing she'd hidden it on the porch and taken a sip after she "stormed out".

"You've been drinking!" he said, making his voice growl.

"Only a few sips," she said. "I only did it to fit in."

He pushed her back, holding her arms and looked at her breasts.

"And where are your Band-aids?" he growled.

"I took them off. Josh wanted to see my breasts. I let him, but that's all. Honest."

"Is it? We'll just see about that."

He took her to her bedroom and removed her dress.

"What are you doing, Daddy?" she whined.

"I'm checking your diaphragm," he said.

"Daddy! I didn't have sex!" she objected.

"I'm just making sure," he said.

"I can't believe you don't trust me," she wailed.

But she lay back on the bed, in only her garter belt and hose, and spread her legs.

"Go ahead," she sighed, theatrically.

He was surprised to find she'd actually put the diaphragm in. He replayed the scene, pulling it out as her hips rose and fell. He made sure to rub her clit as he removed it and then made a show of inspecting it.

"Your fingers in me felt funny," she said.

"Funny how?"

"I was horny when I got home, but then you ruined it, but now I'm horny again."

"That's normal. When a man touches you there nature wants you to get horny."

"Well what are you going to do about it?" she asked.


"You're the one who got me horny."

"But I'm your father," he said.

"You're also the one who got me horny. So what are you going to do about it?"

"I thought Josh got you horny," he reminded her.

"He tried to put his hand in my panties," she confessed.

"Did he, now."

"Yes. He reached under my dress and felt my garter belt. It drove him a little crazy."

"I can understand that," said Bob.

"Oh? Is Daddy horny?"

"Any man would be horny seeing you like this," said Bob.

"Maybe, but I won't let any of them help me," said Cindy. "You wouldn't approve. So that means you have to help me."

"Baby, I'm just a man. I might want to do more to help you than you want me to."

"Don't worry. I'll make you stop if you go too far."

Cindy was still lying half on the bed, her knees spread wide apart. She was still wearing the garter belt and hose. Bob was naked, his prick jutting proudly from the fluff of hair that decorated his balls. Those balls were full and heavy. He'd sucked her nipples to hard points and was currently rubbing the tip of his cock around her clit.

"I'm still horny," panted Cindy.

"I've already done way more than I want any boy to do to you," he huffed.

"It's okay for you to help me," she said, reaching for his cock and pulling.

"Like this?" he asked, pressing forward until he was fully sheathed.

"Oh yeahhhh," she groaned. "That's helping a lot. Something itches in there. Could you move it around in me and scratch it?"

"Like this?" he asked, pulling out and pushing back in.

"Yes. I think that's helping. Do that some more," she panted.

He did, just stroking her gently, massaging her interior with his prod.

"That's very nice," she sighed.

"Be sure to tell me when you aren't horny anymore," he said.

"I will. You can't stop yet. Keep going."

He leaned forward, holding himself up with stiff arms and went in deep. Then he swayed his hips sideways, able to put intense pressure on her mons without crushing her upper body.

"Oh yes," she groaned. "Keep doing that."

It took another minute and a half, but it was obvious she was getting closer and closer. She started to sound like the soundtrack of a porn movie and he pressed even harder, feeling the tip of his cock digging into her cervix.

When she went off her scream made him wince and he worried for a few seconds that the neighbors might hear her.

Then her pussy was milking him and the sudden urge to spew was upon him. His eyes went to the diaphragm lying on the bed beside her head and he started to withdraw. Somehow she knew what he intended and her legs whipped up to wrap around him in an iron vice.

"Cindy!" he gasped.

"In me," she barked.

"Baby!" he objected.

"Squirt me, Daddy," she gasped. "I want to feel it."

He was beyond controlling it and her acceptance of his seed was like a pump whirling to empty his balls. With a groan he let loose and rejoiced in the soothing jets that left his body to become part of hers.

"Yes!" she exulted. "I feel it. It's so warm."

Their position was uncomfortable, at least for Bob. His back was screaming and his legs felt weak. His arms and shoulders joined the chorus of pain and he had to pull out of her to stand, weaving on shaky knees. Her labia, flushed and gaping, framed the white ooze of his spend as it leaked out of her.

"Cindy!" he gasped, weakly.

Her hand came and two fingers spread his spunk around as she gently rubbed her messy lips.

"I didn't want you to stop. I can't help it. I love the feel of you giving me part of yourself," she panted. "I promise from now on I'll put my diaphragm in."

He sat down on the bed beside her and fell back, his arms going out like wings, prepared to beat down and lift him off the ground.
He had to admit to himself that he'd wanted to feel it one more time, too.

Life throws you a curve ball now and then. Sometimes you recognize it and don't swing. Sometimes you recognize it and think you can hit that ball.

That's what happened to Bob. He knew the game had gotten a lot tougher when his wife left him with their two-year-old daughter. To take the analogy just a little farther, he knew they'd brought in the toughest pitcher in the game, but he had to keep taking swings and hoping for the best.

To give him credit, he had no intentions in any way, shape, or form of ending up with his prick buried in his daughter. All he really wanted was for her to be happy. The thought of having sex with her would have horrified him for the first fifteen years of her life. He wasn't aware of the biological need in both of them, or that their lifestyle would tip them toward fulfilling the emotional needs they had as well.

And Cindy never thought about, or dreamed about the idea of seducing her father. That came from little urges she couldn't know would assail her young mind and body.

Bob, having more experience and maturity, stood there for as long as he could before he took a swing.

Cindy, being new to the game, swung at every pitch.

He just wanted her to be happy. He couldn't know that her happiness would come to depend on him being her lover.

Which is how she ended up sleeping in his bed every night, naked, writhing under him in complete joy as his penis thrust into her over and over again until both achieved sexual release.

From Bob's viewpoint, he knew it was wrong, but couldn't control himself. It was like two rare earth magnets, stuck together. The force necessary to separate them just wasn't available to him.

From Cindy's viewpoint, there wasn't anything wrong with what they were doing at all. She loved her daddy and he loved her and this was one of the things people who loved each other did to show that love.

Other than mating over and over, their day-to-day existence was quite normal, as viewed from the outside. Cindy went to school, had friends, and engaged in extracurricular activities. She went on dates, necked with boys, even letting a few of them bare her breasts and suck her nipples. But that's all they got. Many a young man hoped that his adolescent, stiff penis would find its way into her adolescent, tight pussy. In the end, though, that never happened and they delivered her back home, just like millions of horny, unsatisfied boys do every week, thinking about how they would have to jerk off to get relief.

Cindy would get relief, too, with a different rigid prick mauling her young pussy.

Had those boys known about it, even if they didn't know whose prick was spurting in her pussy, it would have driven them crazy.

There was only one problem.

Any doctor will tell any woman not to leave a diaphragm in for more than twenty-four hours. That said, they also recommend not removing it until six hours after having intercourse.

When you go to bed and have sex, and then wake up in the middle of the night and have sex again, sometimes when it's time to go to school it isn't six hours after you last had sex. That meant that Cindy sometimes had to remove her diaphragm at school. That was no problem, really. She kept the case for the device in her purse and a quick trip to the bathroom solved that problem.

But weekends were a different kind of animal. On weekends, when it was time to remove the diaphragm, there might be some love play going on that was likely to lead to further intercourse. This couple was a bit like newlyweds. They might have sex three or four times a day. In truth, they sometimes wanted to do more than that, but Bob couldn't keep up with his teenage daughter.

What this led to were dangerous times when the diaphragm was tucked securely in its case, and Bob's penis was tucked securely in Cindy's pussy.

Granted, he always pulled out to shoot in these situations. Cindy loved the feeling of his hot spunk on her belly as he kept thrusting, his balls rubbing her abandoned pussy lips while his cock spat its nectar.

But as any guy will tell you, there's a fine line between pulling out before you spurt ... and pulling out while you are spurting.

Which is why, when Cindy turned seventeen, despite his reluctance to put chemicals in her body, Bob took her to the doctor to get her a prescription for birth control pills.

Her interview with the doctor wasn't quite what he was used to.

"Are you sexually active?" he asked.

"Yes," said Cindy, without blushing.

"How often do you have sex?" he asked.

"As often as possible," she answered, truthfully.

"I see," said the doctor, whose penis was acting very unprofessional at the moment.

"I like sex," said Cindy, smiling brightly.

So she got her prescription.

If you take medication regularly, you know how important it is to get into a routine about that. Certain medications - such as birth control pills - should be taken at the same time every day to be most effective.

If you're not used to taking medication every day, and then you begin to for some reason, and the bottle says something like, "Take one a day until all have been taken," then you might take one whenever you remember to take it, as opposed to getting on a firm schedule.

If you are thinking, "No way I would do that," then remember that mornings can be tumultuous. Say you hit the snooze button a couple of times too many and then, when you get up, you're rushed. You might not have time for breakfast and you tear out the door to get to work on time without ever thinking about taking that pill. Then, when you do think about it, the pills are at home. By the time you get back home, you've forgotten about it again and might not remember it until you're lying in bed.

If you are thinking, "No way, I don't hit the snooze button," maybe you have kids, in which case mornings can be even more tumultuous. You have to get up before you're ready, take care of the kids, which might include getting them out of bed before they're ready, get them fed, get yourself ready for whatever the day requires of you and so forth.

The point is that taking a pill at the same time every day without fail isn't easy to do over an extended time period. Even if you have a routine for that, routines can be disturbed by unusual or surprise events.

It is therefore understandable that Cindy not only didn't take her pills at the same time every day ... once in a while she forgot to take one at all.

For Cindy, this was no big deal. She already knew, from hearing one of her friends say, "Fuck! I forgot to take my pill yesterday!" that when that happened one was supposed to either abstain from unprotected sex for seven days or use some alternate form of birth control.

And she still had her handy diaphragm.

Being a teenager, two things surfaced to undo her. The first was that she didn't want her daddy to yell at her for forgetting to take a pill ... so she didn't tell him when that happened. The second was that she forgot the long-ago instructions from the doctor who fitted her diaphragm about how, as a woman's body changes, she may need to be refitted for a new diaphragm. Such as when a young woman gains ten pounds or more. In Cindy's case, between the time she got her diaphragm and the current time frame, she'd grown two inches and gained twenty pounds.

And that's the situation when, as was now quite normal for this couple, Bob groaned, pushed deep, and deposited a hundred million sperm cells into his daughter's hot, sucking pussy.

About fifty million of those sperm cells were killed by the spermicide involved with the insertion of her diaphragm that night. Bob had no idea he was fucking a diaphragm-equipped pussy, but that didn't matter. Maybe twenty-five million of the remaining wigglers hung out in the heat like vacationers getting a tan. They eventually died. The remainder, though, slipped through a small crack between the poorly-fitting silicone and the mouth of Cindy's womb. They emerged into a place that gave them room to head toward a fallopian tube that had an egg in it that "wasn't supposed to be there". Only five thousand or so actually reached the egg.

Of course, as we all know, only one is needed.

Luckily, depending on how you look at it, she was only three months away from graduating high school when Bob groaned, donated all those sperm cells, and impregnated his daughter.

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