Twenty Two
'In the Long Ago'
I sit on a towel at the edge of our bed, warm and wet from our shower. My legs spread wide, slowly stroking my stiff cock.
I'm engaged in my favorite spectator sport, watching you.
You sit on the vanity bench, facing me and brushing your hair.
Your eyes gaze into mine. You look down and watch my hand gripping my throbbing rod.
Your eyes gaze into mine. You look down and watch my hand sliding up and down on my cock.
You eyes gaze into mine.
And I watch your brush glide through your damp golden strands.
I love the movement of your arms. I love the way your breasts are lifted and lowered by your labor of self-love.
I have never known why I was so enamored of hair.
Like the song said, "Gimme head with hair, long beautiful hair, shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen."
I really don't care how it comes. Any length, any color, any style.
Hair.
But your hair, never cut, never dyed, the color of sweet golden honey.
And I -
"Dad?"
You startle me. I was lost in the vision.
"Yeah, Sweet?"
"You gonna tell me?"
"Tell you?"
"...'The long ago'..."
"Ahhh, yes. 'The Long Ago.'"
"Tell me."
"OK." I smiled wryly, "But you must do something for me."
"Anything," you breathed enthusiastically.
I smile a crooked wicked smile.
"What? Dad, what?"
"You keep brushing your hair."
"Dad, you know it's your hair. It's always been your hair."
I laugh and lean back on my left elbow, continuing to slowly, lovingly jack my cock.
And watch the sexiest woman I know brush her hair for me.
-------
I was still going out and working on-site, framing for Outzkov.
Remember?
I'd drive you to school in the morning.
As we left, nearly every morning, Saisha would pass us on the driveway as she went in for morning coffee with your mother.
This one day I drove all the way out to Ashland for this really big great house - for the Red Cliff people. Just as I turned up Hwy CC the sky suddenly clouded over - big storm rolling in.
I got to the site and Outzkov and the crew were there - well, Kronke and Chadwick weren't there yet, but they weren't far behind.
We were standing 'round Outzkov's pick-up, studying the plans laid out on the hood, when we were startled - I even jumped - by a huge thunder - sounded like it was right there on top of the rise - but it was farther away.
Then another came rolling up the valley.
Suddenly, the sky turned loose, someone turned on the spigot up there and sheets of heavy rain crashed over us.
Outzkov quickly rolled up the plans and tossed them through the open window of his cab.
"Well, fellas, that's the day. Might's well go home. I'll call tonight to let y'll know 'bout tomorrow."
I rolled up to the house, the rain was pouring there just as hard. I left the truck in the drive and ducked in through the garage side door.
As I walked through the utility room I heard something from the kitchen.
Muffled. Rhythmic.
I couldn't tell what it was so I walked in to check.
I stopped in the doorway, very surprised.
And very delighted.
Saisha was facing away from me, leaning on the far side of the island, naked, a narrow belt tight around her waist.
That's all I could see, black hair hanging loose half-way down her smooth brown back.
She was looking down.
She didn't hear me come in.
I didn't see my wife.
I did see a heavy wooden spoon, the large stainless whisk, the big French rolling pin, a spool of butchers' twine, and a half dozen stainless skewers laid out on the island behind her.
In easy reach.
I stood quietly and soon identified the sound.
It was the sound your mother made when she was gagging as my cock battered her throat.
Saisha wasn't moving, though I did notice her ass pressing rhythmically against the edge of the island in time to the gagging.
I stood and watched for a while, picturing what was going on at the other end of the island.
My cock stiffened and I had to rearrange my Carhartts.
Saisha threw her head back and her hands slid along the counter, knocking the rolling pin which rolled towards me along the counter top.
I waited and caught it when it dropped off the near edge.
I stepped around the island to see my wife on her knees, elbows pulled together tight behind her back, bound by the several wraps of twine. Her wrists were also tied together.
She was working Saisha's huge strap-on with her mouth. She was lunging onto it like a snake, gagging each time she banged the fifteen incher against the top of her throat.
I was curious why she was doing that, she could easily take me down her throat without a problem, but she was deliberately holding her throat closed and making that muffled grunting sound I'd heard.
Curious.
As Saisha looked down to my wife, she caught me out the corner of her eye.
She gasped and whipped her head to look at me.
She looked scared. Surprised, but scared.
She froze.
She searched my face for a sign of my response.
I let her stew for a moment.
I can be mean.
The I broke into a huge grin and put my index finger to my lips with a silent 'Shush'.
She relaxed and moved her left hand to the back of my wife's head.
She started thrusting her big cock into my wife's mouth, her firm ass bouncing off the island.
She rammed past the gag and gripped her hair, pulling her onto the rubber shaft.
Impaling her.
And holding her tight.
My wife still had not noticed me.
I unzipped my fly and pulled out my cock.
This surprised Saisha and she just stared at it without moving.
Without releasing my wife.
I hooked right thumb and forefinger around my cock at the base.
Saisha snapped up to look me in the face.
Embarrassed? Confused? Hungry?
All.
The look on her face was so amusing I laughed.
My wife was startled and began to pull off Saisha's big dick and turn to look at me.
Saisha wrapped the fingers of her left hand into my wife's hair and rammed - I mean RAMMED - that head down on her shaft.
Into her throat too quickly for the chocking, gagging sound.
She leaned over, right elbow on the countertop.
She reached down and replaced my lazy hand with her right and slide a few beats.
She bent down, mashing her right tit on the counter and pulled my cock to her mouth.
I had talked with Saisha many times, briefly.
I had definitely noticed the tight package.
I had never thought I'd be in this situation.
She had her huge cock firmly planted in my wife's gullet and she was shoving her mouth down onto my stiff rod.
Saisha knew how to do what she was doing.
Her lips fluttered along my shaft as her tongue circled and mashed against my head.
I stood still and let her work her talent. I indulged her.
And it was good.
Saisha lifted off of me and pushed my wife off her tool.
I was surprised at how big it was. Easily twenty-five centimeters long and five wide.
It was not shaped like a human cock - or any cock.
It had a ball at the tip with a narrow neck. Along the shaft there were rippling spirals and bumps.
I've never had a vagina, but I could imagine it would be a quite interesting insertion.
She shoved four fingers of her right hand into my wife's mouth and pulled up.
My wife awkwardly jerked like a fish on a hook, trying to get her feet under her.
Her knees twisted from side to side erratically - and independently.
Her high, dense tits swayed in a most delightful dance.
She quickly succeeded in that effort and stood there erect, her nearly perfect breasts thrust forward by the posture enforced by the twine that bound her elbows together behind her back.
After a quick, frightened glance at me, she returned her attention to the small Indian woman who was obviously in charge.
A brief cascade of jealousy, anxiety, surrender washed over me and ended in acceptance and renewed confidence.
Saisha's control of my wife was no threat to me.
Saisha looked at me, smiled wryly and reached for the skewers laid on the counter-top.
Without breaking her eye-lock with me, she held a skewer points-up in front of my wife's face.
Trepidation danced across my spouse's face. Then fear. Then resignation.
I was thoroughly delighted with that enthralling ripple.
Saisha whipped her attention to my wife and smiled a fierce wickedness.
That trepidation-fear-resignation dance was repeated, preceded by shock.
She laid the skewer-points against her tit-tips.
"Lean forward."
My wife trembled and leaned forward timidly - the points barely denting her tender mounds.
"LEAN!" Saisha's anger sizzles through the kitchen.
Nearly instantly, the dents the skewers made in my wife's mounds deepened.
Saisha's wicked smile got broader.
My wife shivered.
I was fascinated.
"Lean."
The skewers cratered the soft, dense tits even deeper.
"If you lean harder will they break your skin?"
"Yes, M'am."
"Do you want to do that? Do you want them to pierce into you?"
"No, M'am."
"If I told you to, would you do it?"
My wife looked at me. Pleading with me? Expecting me to intervene? Wondering what I thought?
Saisha slapped her full in the face. Hard.
"Did I TELL you to look at him?"
"No, M'am," she was back to looking down into the Indian's brown face.
"If I told you to lean in harder, would you do it?"
Her silence was definitely not the right answer.
Another slap.
"WOULD YOU!"
"I would, M'am."
"What if your husband told you to?"
She looked at me confused and fearful.
Earning another hard smack, this raising the color on the bridge of her nose and on one cheek just beneath her eye.
"HE doesn't have the answer. He is NOT in charge.
