Sardines
by Lubrican
Chapter : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
Chapter Three
Prom was a waste of time. For once Chrissy and I weren't
doubling. John came to the door to pick me up. I
had told him to do that and not to just honk. My parents
shook his hand and all that stuff. He had a corsage for
me. To pin it on he had to slide his fingers down into my
cleavage a little bit. He was obviously very nervous about
that, but he got the thing on. Then there were pictures, and
we finally escaped.
John might have been an athlete, but he couldn't dance to save his
life. Even slow dancing went wrong. He stepped on
my feet at least three times. And he brought booze in a
little flask. He showed it to me like he was some big hero or
something. He put it in my punch too. I drank a
little, but he was an idiot because he'd brought bourbon and was
putting it in fruit punch. It tasted awful. We sat
for a while and talked to friends. Then we danced some more.
Finally he got to the point by talking about what a great time we were going to have at the after
party George Stillwell was having out at his father's farm.
There was going to be a bonfire and beer.
"George is fixing up the barn with all kinds of dark corners so people can take a blanket in there and
get it on," he said, smiling widely.
The guy thought I was going to sleep with him! On our first
date! After stepping on my toes and ruining my good shoes!
"I can't go," I said. "I have a curfew."
"You didn't tell me that when I asked you to prom," he complained.
"I didn't know it until my parents told me," I said.
"Can we at least do it in the car on the way home?" he asked.
Just like it was completely normal. I couldn't believe it!
"No, we cannot do it in the car on the way home," I said
calmly. "I'm not having sex with you tonight, John."
"Shit!" he said.
That's when I realized he was drunk.
So I said I had to go to the bathroom, and left the school
instead. It was cold, and Chrissy's house was closer than
mine. Besides, my parents had said I could go to the after party as
long as I promised not to drink. I had my cell phone, and
Daddy had made sure it was fully charged before I left. He
was all primed to come get me if I needed help.
But I didn't need help.
What I needed was Mr. C.
They never locked the French doors that led to the dining
room from the patio. I took my shoes off so they wouldn't click on the
paving stones. As I walked by the hot tub I remembered my
first mouthful of man juice. I intended to get my second that
night. The door was open, as usual, but I heaved a sigh of
relief. If I'd have had to call him to open the door, I was
afraid he wouldn't do it. I still wasn't eighteen, and would
not be for another thirty-nine days.
As I made my way through the darkened house, I started worrying that,
when he heard me, he'd be scared, or startled. My dad had
guns in the house, but I'd never seen one at Chrissy's.
Still, scaring him didn't seem like a good way to set the mood.
I stopped and got my cell phone out. I punched the button
that called them and heard the phone ring far away.
"Hello?" he answered.
"It's just me, Mr. C." I said. "Chrissy is fine."
"Good," he said. "You okay?"
"That depends," I said. "I would really like to show you my
prom dress. You asked me about it, remember?"
"I did," he said. I couldn't tell what he was thinking.
"So can I come up and show it to you?"
"What's going on, Mal?" he asked.
"I'm downstairs. My date was a jerk, so I left."
"Isn't that against the rules?" he asked.
"It is," I admitted. "If they find out I'll be blackballed
from all future proms, no doubt."
"You're in the house?"
"I'm in the dining room. I didn't want to surprise you if you've got a
woman in bed with you."
He laughed. "No chance of that."
"No chance?"
"This isn't a good idea, Mal."
"All I'm going to do is show you my dress," I said plaintively.
"Yeah, right."
"I promise. I'll show you the dress, and then I'll do
whatever you tell me to."
There was a long silence. Finally he said "You'll leave if I
tell you to ... right?"
"Right," I said. I didn't like saying that, but I
was locked in.
"OK."
"Be right up," I said.
I took the dress off on the way up the stairs. It was deep
blue, and it really was pretty. It was backless and had a built in
bra, so when I arrived at his door, all I was wearing were the
lavender high rise panties I had gotten to go under it. My nipples were already stiff, but it might have
been because I was scared to death he was going to yell at me and kick
me out.
I gathered all the courage I had in me and stepped into the room,
holding the dress out in one hand to my left. He was lying on a bunch of pillows, half reclining in bed, with the covers pulled up to his waist. An open book lay face down on his stomach.
"Here is the dress," I said. I pointed at the
panties. "And here is what I got to wear under it."
"I knew it," he groaned. "I knew you'd have something up your
sleeve."
I dropped the dress on the floor. I ran a hand up each arm.
"Nope. No sleeves, and nothing up there even if I had
some." I went for broke and pushed the panties down too,
stepping out of them. "Nothing in here either."
"Well that's not true," he sighed.
"What?" I asked, genuinely confused.
"There is a beautiful, delicious pussy in them. Or there
was," he said.
He hadn't ordered me out, so I took a step toward the bed upon which he
was lying.
"Yes, but my pussy is empty too," I said.
I know it sounds corny now. It probably was then
too. But we had always played a sort of strange
game. It had started when I was fourteen, and the rules had
changed a little each year, but it was always the same game. I
didn't know how the game would end, or when it would be over.
I didn't want it to end, actually. So I kept trying to play.
He stared at me with that deep, dark gaze he used so well. I
stopped, unsure now. Here I was, standing naked in his room,
hoping for something that had never happened, and which I didn't know
what would be like, but wanting it all the same. I was
scared, but I was also hopeful.
His arm moved and I watched his hand reach for the covers at the edge
of the bed. He pulled them back, exposing an expanse of pale
blue sheet beside him.
He was naked.
His hand patted the sheet beside him, while the other hand picked up
the book, closed it and put it on the night stand, all without him
taking his eyes off of me.
I felt the most incredible rush of relief, and joy and
ecstasy. It was exactly like an orgasm, except my sexual
organs weren't involved at all.
I ran, and he smiled as I jumped into the bed, landing half on top of
him and pushing my face at him for a kiss.
I got the kiss. And then the world became a place I had never
been before, and knew nothing about.
He was on me like a wolf must attack a sheep. In no time at
all I found myself on my back, with both arms above my head.
My wrists were crossed and he gripped them both with one big hand so
that I couldn't use my hands at all.
His mouth attacked my breasts, licking, sucking, nipping
even. I felt his teeth grip a nipple and pull it away from my
chest until I whined with the discomfort of it. And yet it
felt delicious. He needed a shave, and his stubble scratched
me, but that made my skin feel more alive than I could
imagine. Then his mouth came back up and he kissed me over
and over while his hand slid so slowly down, over my belly and onto the
fluffy hair I had so meticulously snipped and clipped so it would fit
in my bikini. The tip of one finger arrived at the top of my
split, but stopped just short of my clit. I thought I'd die
if he didn't touch my clit.
Finally he moved the finger to circle my bump. I cried out
into his mouth and bucked my hips up at his hand. His finger
penetrated me and he hooked it like he always had. I felt the
tip moving back and forth, like it was searching for
something. The base of his fingers squashed my clit and he
did that amazing vibrating hand thing again.
He was still holding my hands, but the orgasm came anyway. I
know I screamed. And I know I kept screaming, because right
in the middle of that orgasm, he rolled on top of me, kneeing my thighs
apart, and I felt a stretching, searing sensation just inside my pussy
lips as he took what I had offered. Only then did he let go
of my wrists, but it didn't matter, because his full weight was on me
and there was nothing I could do to get away from that thing that was
splitting me apart down there.
It felt like I was in an earthquake, or maybe a ship at sea in a hurricane. The bed was
shaking and our bodies were heaving and bouncing. Out of the
blue there came an incredible streak of pleasure that I recognized had
been sent to my brain by my clit. I felt tremendous pressure
in my pussy, but it didn't hurt, exactly.
Then he suddenly stopped.
He did a pushup with his arms. His hands were right under my
arm pits. But only his chest rose, and I dragged in a huge
breath, half sobbing as it was expelled so I could drag in another.
He looked down and I realized his weight was completely off of
me. I raised my head and saw he was on his knees. I
also saw that his brown pubic hair was kissing mine. He was
in me ... all the way in me. I had a penis in my pussy at
that moment. I couldn't believe it!
Then he pulled it almost out of me, hesitated just a second, and slid
it back in, bouncing off my mons. My clit sang out again.
He did it again, almost gently pulling and pushing. The
pressure was still there, but felt different somehow. I
realized there was no pain at all any more. In fact, I could barely
remember what that pain had been like. I was so amazed that that big thing actually fit in me!
He pushed in and then moved his hips sideways to the right, and back to
the left.
I felt so many things when he did that. I felt his cock deep
inside me, moving a little bit as he tried to drag it sideways and my
pussy refused to let it go that way. My clit almost buzzed
with the joy of being massaged by the base of his cock. I
felt the skin of his thighs rubbing on my own. I felt his
breath washing over my face as he panted. Everything wanted
to be felt first.
He stopped rubbing and started fucking it in and out of me
again. I watched until my neck muscles complained at holding
my head up, and I let my head flop back. It was different
when I couldn't see what was happening. Now it was all up to
my tissues to report what they were feeling.
And what they were feeling was incredible. I tried to think
of anything else that felt that good. The first swallow of
cool water on a hot day after a run? No contest.
This beat that hands down.
And then I couldn't think of anything, because I felt an orgasm looming
over me. Usually I could tell when it was going to happen,
but this felt like I was surrounded by something that could pounce at
any time.
He surprised me by leaning down and kissing me again. It
wasn't rough this time. Instead it was tender. But
at the same time he let his body weight down on me again and sped up,
his cock sliding in and out faster and faster. I felt a drop
of something on my face and realized he was sweating.
"Oh Mal," he groaned into my mouth. His lips slid off to one
side and his chin dropped onto my shoulder. He was moving so
fast now that I was reminded of when he jerked off in front of me.
"Oh Mal!" he whined.
Then he stopped, deep inside me and I felt a new heat blooming right
where the tip of his cock was. I knew he was shooting in me
... those streaks of white I had watched coming out were now confined
in my body. I knew about sperm, and the danger of sperm, but
I hadn't thought about it until that very instant when I felt his sperm
being released into my belly.
But it was his sperm ... the sperm of the man I loved. And it
didn't feel dangerous at all.
It just felt wonderfully warm inside me.
There is almost nothing more pitiful than a man who feels he has failed
his lover.
I had overwhelmed his defenses, and he had reacted as men were intended
to react. He had mated with me. That's what men are
supposed to do.
But modern men expect more of themselves than mere mating. At
least the men who are worth a flying fuck do. They expect to
leave their selected mate limp and satisfied, unable to even think of
finding another man to add more sperm, to increase the odds of
successful fertilization.
And I hadn't quite made it to orgasm.
I didn't care. It had been something wondrous and amazing,
and I'd never forget it. But he was devastated that he had
"ruined" my first time. If he hadn't been so close to tears I
would have laughed.
Teenage girls might not be as sophisticated as our older sisters, but
we aren't completely lacking in the tools which can be used to
manipulate a male.
I told him he could make it up to me.
I told him I wanted to cuddle. He turned out to be good at
that. Half an hour later I went down on him, steeling myself
to confront my own juices, and was pleasantly surprised to find out I
didn't taste any different on his cock than I did on his daughter's
lips.
The second time wiped his record squeaky clean. He was
gentle, but forceful, and he was calm enough to pay attention to me,
which he did in ways that still amaze me. Three orgasms
later, I was that limp, satisfied woman, who wanted nothing more than a
chance to snooze in warmth, next to my man. He kissed me as
he came in me again, and this time I felt the pulsing of his penis as
it delivered another ball of heat to my middle.
Then, held in his arms, I heard the click of the lamp switch and saw
the light go dark through my eyelids ... and slept.
I woke up when Chrissy climbed in bed with me, naked.
That wasn't odd. We had slept naked together dozens of
times. Something niggled at my brain this time, but I felt so
good and warm that I didn't want to think about anything that might be
amiss.
She snuggled up to me and her hand found my breast. It
squeezed. I smiled in that place between sleep and waking.
The hand squeezed again and the bed shook as she sat up, using me as a
prop.
"Mallory?"
Of course I was Mallory. Who else would I be? Why
was she being so loud?
"MALLORY!"
"Whaaat?" I complained.
"What are you doing in bed with my daddy?" she squealed.
I felt Mr. C. move then, and realized the warmth I was leaning my back
against was him.
The world flip flopped suddenly, and I felt weightless. I
knew I wasn't weightless, and that I was falling as a result of that
flip-flopping world. I was pretty sure when I hit it wasn't
going to be good. My mind was whirling. Then the
lamp on the nightstand came on and my eyelids clamped down.
"Mallory?" Chrissy's voice had gotten higher and louder each
time she said my name.
I cracked open my eyelids and saw her sitting above me. She
had flawless skin that she took good care of, and her nipples, unlike
mine, were tiny and pale. Her areolas were all but
invisible until you sucked on them for a while. Then they darkened up
enough to be seen. She looked mad as hell.
"What ... are you doing in bed ... naked ... with my father?" she
demanded hotly.
I was thinking a little more clearly now. I was still
jangled, but Chrissy and I had had innumerable arguments in the past,
and I knew how to argue with her.
"Me? I think the question here is what are you doing in bed,
naked, with your father?" I suggested.
She blinked and the anger in her cheeks paled.
"Oh shit," she said.
Mr. C. got up on one elbow. He looked at both of us.
"I know I shouldn't say this, at least not right now, but you have no
idea how often I've wanted to see the two of you naked together."
There was uproar. But it wasn't like any uproar I'd ever witnessed (or taken part in) before. It turned out Chrissy had been sleeping with her father since she was sixteen. It happened after a sleepover, actually, when the last of the girls had left. She had gone to climb in bed with her father, just to cuddle and be near him. He had been fully asleep at the time, but only hours earlier he had had his finger in my pussy and was kissing me and loving me. And when she got in bed with him, his mind, feeling a warm woman in bed with him, had drifted off into areas his waking mind would have avoided. As a result, she had gotten the same thing I had gotten - she got stroked and kissed and a finger in her pussy before he woke up enough to realize who she was and what he was doing. She had gone from shock, to curiosity, to acceptance in a matter of minutes. When he had refused to continue, she had masturbated right there in the bed. Seeing her as a sexual being ... who was actively involved in seeking sexual climax, he couldn't resist helping her. The rest, as they say, was history.
So she thought of him as "her" man in even more ways than I did.
Which was why, when she learned about my story, she got even madder,
because he had been playing with me sexually long before he played with
her. She was jealous.
I pointed out that, if I wasn't mistaken, she had lied to me for two
years about being a virgin.
She pointed out that I should have told her what her father was doing
with me.
He let us act like cats for ten minutes and then told us both to shut
up.
"You love each other," he said. "You've loved each other for
as long as I can remember."
Chrissy tried one more shot.
"If she loved me she wouldn't have screwed around with my daddy."
"You love each other," he repeated. "And you both love
me. For just one of you to love me would be enough to make me
happy into my old age. That both of you love me is ... it's
like an atomic bomb has gone off in my heart, but it didn't destroy
anything. It just made the world that much better."
He stared at us. He was so good at seeing deep inside us with
those dark eyes!
"And I love both of you," he said softly. "I'll always love
both of you."
I almost sat down because my knees were acting up again. He
had said it! And he had said it right in front of Chrissy!
He frowned. "And because I love both of you, and I know you
love each other, I don't want to come between you. So both of
you have to leave. My bed is closed to both of you from now
on."
Who'd have thought a man would know how to argue that successfully with
two almost grown women?
"No!" we both shouted simultaneously.
"I'm not going to choose one of you over the other," he said.
"And you're both going off to college, which is where you should
go. So dragging things out with me when you should be
planning for your new life as independent women is a foolish use of
your time."
"No, Daddy," whined Chrissy, shifting from foot to foot.
I just tried to hug him.
But he pushed me away. He cheated and tickled, but it wasn't
funny.
"You two go on back to Chrissy's room," he said. "That's
where your friendship was forged, and where you have spent so many
happy hours. Talk this out and get it behind you. I
want you to be best friends for life."
In the end he had to get out of bed himself and push us out of his
bedroom. Thinking back on it now, I giggle, visualizing two
naked teenage girls, bumping into each other and the door frame as a
gorgeous naked man pushes them out. It's not the normal image
one would think of in any situation where there was a naked guy with
two naked girls.
He closed the door behind us too. It was dark in the hallway,
but we both knew the house like the back of our hand. I think
we were in shock at the horrible loss we had just suffered, because we
didn't talk until we got to her room.
For the first time we were uncomfortable being naked in front of each
other. My dress and panties were still in his bedroom, of
course, but I went to the bottom drawer of her chest of drawers and got
out one of the T shirts I kept at her house. She opened a
drawer two above mine and did the same thing.
It was the first time in my whole life I could remember feeling awkward
around Chrissy. It was awful. I didn't know what to
say. It was clear she didn't either. So many things were
going through my mind, and I'm sure it was the same with her.
What brought me around was getting to the image of Mr. C. on top of
Chrissy ... fucking her. It was easy for me to visualize in
my mind. And suddenly I realized I didn't blame
him. Making love with her was one of my favorite things too.
I keyed in on the concept "making love" that had just flitted through
my brain. And in that moment I realized what he had been
talking about. The things Chrissy and I did felt good, but
only because it was me and Chrissy. We loved each
other. I had never wanted to slide my tongue between any
other girl's pussy lips. I had kissed a few, but that was
different somehow. When Chrissy and I were pleasuring each
other, it was for that very purpose, to produce pleasure in the
other. It was always fun for me when we did that, but the
most fun part was hearing her have an orgasm that was because of
me. That was making love. And somehow, I knew he
felt the same way when he made love with her.
"I don't blame him," I said suddenly.
Chrissy had been pacing. "What?" She turned to me.
"I don't blame him for loving you ... like that. I love you
like that, and I understand why he would want to too."
She stared at me for a long moment, and then her shoulders relaxed.
"I wasn't mad at you when I found you there," she said. "I
was surprised. Flabbergasted, really. But not
mad. And then when I found out about the rest, I got jealous,
but I still wasn't mad. I didn't understand that until you
said what you just said. Of course he loves you. I
do too."
"He loves us both," I said. "Just like I love you and love
him the same way."
"Yes!" she squealed.
"This isn't normal, is it," I sighed.
"I don't care!" she said. "Do you care, Mal?"
"If you mean do I care that he loves us both, then no. If you
mean that you love him and me, also no. If you mean what he
just decided, then yes. I care a lot!"
"Oh, that," she said, tossing her head. "He tried to stop
doing it with me a dozen times. He can't resist me."
"He couldn't resist me tonight either," I said. "He
tried. He's been resisting for years."
"He doesn't have any trouble resisting the women who flirt with him and
try to get him to take them out," she said.
"What women?" I asked.
"He meets them at business meetings and various places," she
said. "He told me about some of them. I've been with him
sometimes and saw what was happening, once I knew what to look
for. He's had plenty of chances to get laid. I
always thought he didn't bring any of them home because he knew I still
remember Mom. Then he finally admitted that he
compared them all to me and they couldn't compete."
I felt a fluttering in my belly. I had successfully competed
with Chrissy, who was the prettiest girl I knew. I told her
what I was thinking.
"I don't think it's competition," she said. "He's not
choosing one of us over the other. He even said
that. He just loves us both. You're as much his
daughter as I am."
"This is so weird," I said. "Here we are talking about incest
and it doesn't seem wrong at all!"
"All I know is I love him," said Chrissy. "I know I won't
spend my life with him, or have his babies or any of that, but I still
love what we do."
"Speaking of which," I said. "If you've been sleeping with
him for two years, how is it that you never got pregnant?"
"He always uses a condom," she said. "Always. The
only times he's ever actually refused me was when he didn't have a
condom."
"Oh," I said, feeling weak in the knees again.
"What?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said, my mind whirling. "He didn't use a
condom with me tonight."
She blinked. Then she frowned.
"Now I'm pissed!" she said.
I had seen Chrissy and Mr. C. interact before. That much is
obvious from what I've already told you. But I had never seen
the kind of interaction they had next.
She said "Come on!" and pulled me out of her room and back to
his. The door was still closed, but she barged right on
through. I don't know what would have happened if he'd have
locked it, but it wasn't locked. The bedside light was still
on and he was reading, even though it was three in the
morning. He didn't look surprised to see us.
In fact, he smiled a little bit.
But Chrissy missed it.
"How come she gets to have you bareback and I don't?" she yelled.
He closed the book.
"Sweetheart, we've had this discussion before."
"No we haven't!" she yelled some more. "We had it about me,
not her!"
"I guess I let things get out of hand," he said, looking abashed.
She folded her arms across her chest. She actually tapped her bare toes
on the floor.
"Don't give me that," she snorted. "You never lose
control. I've tried to make you lose control."
"Well, it's a moot point now," he said, "since I won't be
doing anything bareback from now on."
"Hold that thought, Daddy dear," said Chrissy.
She turned to me and put her mouth right by my ear.
"Do you want him?"
She pulled back and I stared at her.
She put her mouth back by my ear.
"Now that you know he fucked me, do you still want him?"
She pulled back again. I nodded, and hoped she wouldn't
scream at me.
She came back in and whispered "If I ask you to share him with me, will
you do that?"
I realized then that she intended to fight his ban. I nodded
more forcefully.
She surprised me by kissing me. It was one of our really good
kisses, that lasted a long time and involved some tongue.
When she broke it she said "Thank you," softly.
Mr. C. was staring at us now. Chrissy glanced over
at him and saw the shock on his face.
"Gee, Daddy, I guess there are just all sorts of secrets coming out
tonight. Did I forget to tell you that Mal and I have been
lovers for ... oh ... I don't know ... four or five years?"
She was fudging on that, but I was pretty sure she was counting that
first tentative exploratory kiss we had tried, just to find out what
another person's lips felt like pressing our own.
"You two?" His voice sounded hollow.
"Well we are best friends," she said. She went behind
me. Her hands caught the hem of my T shirt and lifted it,
exposing my pussy, belly and breasts. She cupped my breasts
and pinched my nipples. "Did you really think you were the
first person to play with her titties, Daddy?"
I had frozen at first, when she exposed me to him, but then I
remembered she was fighting for us, and went with the flow.
When she let go of my shirt and moved beside me, raising her own, she
said "Or mine?" I read her mind and leaned down to suck at
one of her tiny nipples. She held my head to her chest.
"So I guess it's only fair that you know we were taking care of each
other for a while now. We're not lesbians, though, and we'd
really rather have you too, but since you're going to be such a
dickhead about it, I guess we'll have to take care of each other
again."
She took her shirt off and then pulled mine off too. "Move
over and give us girls some room, Pops," she said, and pushed me down
on the bed right beside Mr. C.
Then, to prove this wasn't some prank, she ate my pussy. I'd
have cum too, except that it was too weird with Mr. C. right there next
to me. But I played the part, because I knew what she was
trying to do. I faked an orgasm for the first time in my
life. I did it all as a show for him. And Chrissy
knew it, because she knew how I came for real. So then she
raised her head and smiled, her face shiny, because while I couldn't
cum, that didn't mean I didn't enjoy it.
His mouth was hanging open and his face was flushed. He was
breathing pretty fast too.
"We're not mad at each other, Daddy. Nothing could tear us
apart. We're sisters, and sisters are for life. And
if you think you can keep us out of your bed ... well look at us right
now. I admit I'm a little upset about you doing my sister
bareback, but I'll get over it. And we'll correct that little
problem in the future."
I think she ran out of things to say. She'd done pretty well, in my
opinion. I mean it had all been ad lib, on the spur of the
moment. And he was clearly freaked out, which was very
strange because I'd never even seen him ruffled. He didn't
say anything. He just kept looking from her to me and back to
her. He looked at my pussy too.
Finally I said
"Will somebody please kiss me?"
Chrissy, bless her heart, said "Your turn, Daddy," and then went quiet
again.
I turned my head and his face was only a foot away. I put a
pitiful look on my face that I had used against my own parents hundreds
of times. They knew what it was and had ignored it for years,
but he hadn't seen it. "Please?" I whimpered, pitifully.
And when he kissed me, I knew we had won.
Chrissy struck while the iron was hot. I thought she was just
trying to seal the deal. We were both tired. It had
been a long day. And Mr. C. couldn't have been all fresh
either. It was probably almost four in the morning by then,
but she wanted some concrete resumption of the games under our belts.
She pulled the blanket off of him. He was still naked, and he was hard
as a rock. I'm told two girls making out will do that to a
guy, though I don't understand it. You'd think he'd rather be
involved than watch. But who understands men?
She was obviously familiar with sucking him, because that's what she
did. She got him good and wet with her saliva and raised her
head. He was still kissing me.
"Has he eaten your pussy yet?" she asked.
I stopped kissing him long enough to nod.
"Have you sat on his face yet?"
He groaned. "Good grief, Chrissy!"
I stared at her.
"Do it," she said. "It's the best when you can move around on
his mouth."
For the first time I began to suspect she had something else up her
metaphorical sleeve.
"But let me get a condom first," she said. "It's my turn to
feel this in me."
She knew right where they were, in the drawer the lamp was
on. She was also an expert at getting the foil packet
open. She applied the thing with a smooth five second motion
that involved both hands kind of sliding downwards like she was
masturbating him, but only in one direction. She even checked the
reservoir at the top by pulling on it and letting it snap back.
"Okay," she said brightly. "Let's climb on
together. I'm pretty sure Daddy's never done a threesome."
I realized then that she owned him. She had seduced him,
albeit not intentionally, but once she had him, she held on tight and
trained him right up. I doubt she did that on a conscious
level either. He was just putty in her hands, because he
loved her.
As I got on my knees, trying to figure out how to do what she was
telling me to do, she made a motion with her hand that I knew meant
"look" and she mouthed "face me."
I knew she was up so something then, but I played along. Then
it occurred to me that maybe she wanted me to see her fuck
him. I wasn't wild about that idea, to be honest. I
mean I understood why he wanted her, because I knew how that
felt. But to actually watch them do that? I was
afraid I wouldn't like it, and if I didn't like it, I'd never be able
to get it out of my head. It might ruin everything.
But it was too late, because Mr. C. had finally come alive and was
manipulating my hips, positioning my pussy where he wanted it.
I felt his tongue spear up into me, and was suddenly too distracted to
worry about Chrissy.
Still, as he began to work on me, I watched as she got on her knees and
moved his latex-covered cock to her entrance. She sank down
on him with a sigh, and gave a few jerks forward and back with her
hips. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and bit her lower
lip gently.
It didn't look bad at all.
She leaned forward, putting her hands on his chest. I thought
she wanted a kiss, so I leaned forward too, putting my hands on her
shoulders. But she didn't kiss me. Instead she whispered.
"I know how to make him cum."
"Okay," I croaked. What he was doing was starting to feel
really good.
Then she kissed me, and mouthed "I love you."
And then she leaned back and did some kind of jerky thing with her hips
that looked like a lot of work. I felt him react,
though. He got kind of more frantic about sucking at my
clitty and I felt an orgasm rushing toward me.
Chrissy suddenly moved her feet up and, so smoothly that I'd have sworn
she had practiced it a dozen times, stood up enough to pull off of him
while the long nails she'd glued on for prom hooked the rim of the
condom. She pulled and it flipped off his cock, shooting off
to the side like a rubber band.
Then she sat back down on his cock and solved the problem of him doing
me bareback and not her. He went nuts, but what he was doing
felt so good I just pushed down harder, which trapped his
head. I didn't mean to trap his head, but I did. So
he couldn't do anything about Chrissy. She started that herky
jerky hip flipping again, with this intense look on her face.
Mr. C. bounced his hips up in the air so hard that he actually lifted
her knees off the bed. She got this dreamy smile on her face,
and, as my own orgasm slammed into me, she said "Oh yeah.
That's what I'm talkin' about!"
She had gotten a pussy full of her daddy's sperm too. And I
realized the whole episode had been just for that reason. Now
she wouldn't be jealous of me any more.
He was mad. And I saw another side of Chrissy I'd never seen
before. She became very quiet and subdued, submissive in the
extreme. She said she was sorry three or four times, and
promised never to do it again. She hugged his
chest. It was when she cried that I saw through the whole
act. She wasn't sorry at all. She was playing him
like a violin.
And it worked. Pretty soon he said "All right. As
long as you promise never to do that again."
I had been lying next to them, just watching. Chrissy, having
played her role, subsided into cuddling mode. Mr. C. didn't
notice that she stopped crying entirely too quickly. I was
going to have to give her a critique, because she'd have never pulled
that off if it was aimed at me. But she wasn't quite finished.
"I'm glad you love Mal too, Daddy," she said.
That reminded him I was there, and I took the chance of moving toward
him. It paid off as he cuddled me on his other side.
"I should have used protection with you too," he said. "But
you made me crazy. I promise I'll protect you from now on."
"Okay," I said. What did I know about condoms? I
assumed that if he and Chrissy had used them all the time, it must
still feel fine. I also assumed that the only reason Chrissy
had wanted him naked in her was because he had been naked in me, and
now we were even.
But what was most important was that it sounded like he had agreed we would do this again.
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