The Lizard And The Tennis Ball

I hate it when he calls me 'daddy's girl'. It's so infantilizing, so degrading. I'm 33. I try to correct him, try to gently suggest other nicknames even 'pumpkin' would be better but he's old. But he's not THAT old, he's not senile or anything, he's just set in his ways.

"Just let him have it," Mom pleads on his behalf, "You'll miss us when we're gone." She reminds me how badly she wanted a daughter & how long it had taken to conceive that third child, how grateful she'd been when she'd finally been given the girl she always prayed for. She lays it on thick, the clever old bird, she knows how to get her own way. It's a well-tread refrain.

Strangely, even though the walls of their house are lined with childhood photos, mostly of me (dressed in frilly church dresses & surrounded by stuffed animals), despite her desperation for a daughter, I've always been closer to Dad. It was as if after longing for a perfect little girl, the one who'd arrived hadn't 'quite' lived up to the fantasy. She'd focussed instead on my two big brothers, after I'd been born she'd leaned right into her role as 'boy-Mom'. So when Dad insisted on calling me 'daddy's girl' I knew it was innocent. I knew it came from love, even though I still cringed.

I only came out to my parents a few years ago. I'd always had girlfriends, & had only tried a boy once (perhaps to assure myself that yes, I was REALLY gay, & I was definitely not going to meet Mom's expectations). It had been messy, coming out. Mom had been on my case about bringing someone home for the semester break. "A nice boy," she'd urged, "I don't want you to die alone." Perhaps spitefully, I'd brought home my girlfriend. We'd been seeing each other on & off for a couple of years by then, we were even living with each other in Portland. I had warned Amari first, after all, she had the double strikes of being both a lesbian & a black woman. Not that my parents are racist, just that coming out in general can result in awkwardness, accidental microaggressions & so-on.

We're still together, Amari & I, five years & going semi-strong. We'd been going through a period of Lesbian Sex Death (look it up if you're curious) that had started during lockdown. The drought broke at a friend's place as we cat-sat while they went on a LGBT+ cruise. That day had started with fingering in the kitchen & cunnilingus on the sofa. Finally, Amari was bracing herself with her hands on the 6th floor window, her jeans pulled down past her knees & I was screwing her from behind with our strap-on.

She has the sexiest, sloppiest cunt. I love fucking her with the dildo, I love how her shaved black vagina opens up to a bright pink flower, the contrast, how she fills with creamy pussy juice, how I can feel it flicking on my thighs as I pound in & out of her. I love the sounds she makes, how afterwards she crumbles into my arms & we laugh & talk & soak up the warmth of each other. I love Amari. Even though we fight a lot. Even though we've broken up a few times, & each of us has cheated, we've gone through highs & lows, we keep coming back to each other.

I was fucking her with the dildo, enjoying the view of her swelling & twitching wet pussy, her dark asshole with sweat running between her cheeks. Her labia like delicate flower petals trembling with every penetration, when she said "Oh my God, look over there! We're not the only ones getting some Afternoon Delight!"

We laughed, giggling, & it interrupted my rhythm, making me need to focus on restarting the tempo. As I thrusted she pointed through the window at her discovery. Sure enough, across the road, a straight couple were getting their freak on, their curtains also wide open, just a floor beneath us & slightly to the right.

"Oh, Am," I laughed, "they're fucking KINKY! Should we try & get their attention?"

"Just fuck me," she'd ordered, "this is so hot. It's like free porn, I just wish it was another queer couple, not an old geezer & skinny chick." I slowed my pumping just a little, trying to see better, she'd obviously had a clearer view being able to pick out those details. My whole body suddenly went cold, I lost my wide-on, froze mid-thrust, horrified.

"Bitch!" Amari hissed, "bitch, I'm so close, what the fuck?"

But I was as petrified, as if Medusa had stared at me from the window. I pulled the silicone phallus out of her. She was furious, frustrated, but she took one look at my face & went quiet. "Talk to me, babe," she gently soothed, pulling her jeans up over her wet inner thighs. I kept thinking 'daddy's girl, he calls me daddy's girl.'

In the apartment building across from our voyeuristic viewpoint, my father, my 60 year old conservative Dad, who drank from a mug that said 'I should be fishing' & always gave me the same Anais Anais fragrance gift-set for my birthday, ever since I'd told him I'd liked it when I was 14. THAT Dad, who was soon going to celebrate his 40th wedding anniversary with my Mom, was naked, on his knees, his hands bound behind him, using his teeth to slowly pull a chain of the LARGEST green anal beads I'd ever seen, from a tattooed woman who looked younger than me. With horror, I saw that from his own asshole, lay what appeared to be a huge rubbery lizard tail attached to a buttplug.

I felt bile rising in my throat. "What?" Amari pressed, "Babe, I'm really worried - oh my God, is THAT-?" & she'd tried to cover my eyes, like I was a child who'd walked in on her parents wrapping Christmas presents. I realised I was still naked aside from the bobbing strap-on & my wet panties. I undid the clasps on the straps, stepped out of both, grabbed a throw blanket from the sofa where we'd eaten each other out & wrapped myself & Amari up.

She was asking questions, rapid-fire, questions that fell upon me like raindrops, so I could barely differentiate one from the other, only knowing I was being soaked by them. "God, babe, I'm so sorry, are you OK? Did you have any idea? Is he having an affair? Are we sure that's him? Do you think Rosemary knows? Who's that woman? God, she looks so young. Do you think she's a sex worker? She must be, mustn't she? Are you OK? Is he a sugar-daddy? Did you know what he was into? Were there any clues? How long do you think this has been going on? Do your brothers know about her?" & finally, "why are we watching this?" I was asking myself the same thing,

I couldn't seem to tear myself away. It was as if I had to see everything, had to witness it to make sure it was real. Didn't want him to do something I didn't catch, because obviously, he'd been getting away with it so far. I was angry, I felt betrayed, I felt so many complicated emotional wounds opening up as I watched, spellbound, the pornographic, disturbing activities my father was doing with this young mystery woman.

When the last, massive anal bead came free from her (I noticed) bleached asshole she'd squirted a small stream of clear fluid from her pussy. She'd turned, & gently pushed Dad's head down so he lapped at the puddle from the hardwood floor. As he tilted forward the lizard-tail swung almost lifelike beneath his tied hands.

She was talking to him, I wished I could hear the conversation but on reflection, I'm so glad I couldn't. He sat back on his heels & looked up at her in submission. She walked behind him, loosened his restraints, & gently tugged the butt-plug a few times, he looked ecstatic, he turned around a little & Amari exclaimed "GODDAMN!" She covered her mouth, whispered, "Goddamn, did you have any idea your Dad was packing such a fatty?"

I hadn't, I was staring, almost incapable of blinking. Standing erect from his lap was the most comically-enormous penis I could imagine. I thought, 'the man could make porn', perhaps he was? Perhaps there was a camera crew hidden in the apartment where we couldn't see them, perhaps this was how he'd kept the family business going all these years. My father, a porn star? But somehow, I knew as fucked up as their sex-play was, that wasn't the story.

He looked like a living fertility idol, something from Africa or South East Asia. It must've been a bit above average in length, maybe 6 in? But the width. Holy Crap. I smothered a laugh, as an image of my tiny old Mom with her dainty hands popped into my head. She bought small gloves! She was 5 feet tall, every time I'd borrow her car she'd complain about how she needed to adjust the seat back! She would've had to have used both hands to hold him. How the hell had they managed to get it inside her? That thing practically had an elbow.

My nervous laugh seemed to relax Amari a little. "Right?" she asked, "well done, Mr Doyle, Sir!" she joked with a mock-salute. "He must have fertilised Mom with a funnel" I added & we both hooted with laughter. Strangely, the horror show had morphed into some kind of fascinating nature documentary. We'd be cat-sitting for three more days, I wondered if we'd catch an encore performance. It felt like we should make popcorn.

I looked at the brunette, she seemed a little skanky-looking, but perhaps I thought that because she was fucking Dad. I wondered if she was a stripper. Did my Dad go to strip clubs? I couldn't imagine it. I couldn't imagine him going into one of those places, nodding at the bouncer with a wallet full of notes to stuff into g-strings & ass cracks. He'd be too scared, too nervous he might run into someone who'd recognise him. He considered himself a 'prominent member of his community,' especially his church. My God, I thought, Mom would have a conniption if this got out & affected her charity work & reputation.

I laughed again. Mom would have a conniption if she knew he was nude & supine on the floor of a young woman's apartment, having hot wax dripped on his dick & balls. Amari & I watched silently, fascinated as he twisted & flinched each time the candle dipped. He seemed to be using his weight against the floor to masturbate his asshole with the lizard-tail buttplug. Eventually, the woman took him by the restraints, which hung loosely from his wrists & made him crawl to a glass & metal dining table, the chairs seemed to be somewhere else. I couldn't help but wonder how his arthritis handled crawling & giggled again. This whole thing, it was so absurd.

She restrained him by one wrist to the leg of the table & I wondered what was next. Beside me, Amari's breathing was heavier, & with shame, I realised I was also turned on watching my unadventurous father having adventurous sex. I wondered what we'd missed before Amari had seen them. I wondered if each session (Dad looked too comfortable for this to be the first time) was the same, or if they mixed things up. He seemed to know what was going on.

The young, naked woman, her body entirely hairless, something shiny glinting from her tits (they must be pierced, I realised) sat on the top of the table, scooting herself close to the center. Out of a large metal bowl she started to pull a strange variety of items. The rook from a chessboard, which she twisted into her tailpipe. She seemed to be gyrating, rubbing herself on the table. Then came a short wooden spoon, like a serving ladle, first she put it in her vagina handle-first, then spoon-end first, which seemed to take some careful positioning. I was amazed by how deep it went, just the end poking out as her pussy seemed to swallow it. She ground herself lasciviously on the table, which I could tell would be getting smeared with the juices from her cunt.

Pulling out the wooden spoon, she'd rummaged about in the bowl, I was dying to learn all the contents, I could see the top of what appeared to be a pepper-grinder, & something green, maybe a cucumber or a marrow, she pulled out a hairbrush which she set aside, as if to reach something underneath, & selected a Snapple bottle which she used to masturbate herself with, gently to begin with & then making herself cum & squirt, with much more volume than earlier. She rubbed her ass & vagina in the juices, grinding herself on the transparent surface while my Dad, stared intensely & appreciatively. It must have looked like some strange, moving Rorschach Test. Even to his old, farsighted eyes, it must have seemed like a wet, pinkish butterfly dying in a puddle of watery milk.

Finally, teasingly, she retrieved a tennis ball, she held it up as if to display it to Dad, with her elegantly manicured thumb & finger. Then she put it in the puddle on the table & lowered her dripping pussy over it, & rolled it around underneath her, slipping & sliding against the liquids she'd squirted all over the surface from her busy cunt. The view from below must have been incredible, her ass squeezing against the glass, the asshole kissing it, as her pussy lips rubbed open & around atop the soaked table, her clit must have been incredibly sensitive against the fuzzy surface, her vagina must've held the ball like a suction cup.

I realised both Amari & I were sighing, fingering ourselves under the throw. I was close to orgasm. We glanced at each other, I could feel myself blushing. We were both sighing, both horny as fuck, even as we watched & my Dad sucked his fingers & tried to touch the woman through the glass, as he jerked his gigantic throbbing dick while he watched the teasing show.

She climbed carefully off the table & I saw him lean to her, he kissed her on the mouth. She kissed him back, then she raised a knee on his shoulder, & put her pussy in his face. Her labia were gripping the wet ball, he seemed to be admiring it, softly tickling the lips with his free hand. He leaned in & gratefully opened his mouth & took the ball, it must have been a bit of an undertaking but he accepted it, like an oversized ball-gag that didn't quite fit.

I tried to imagine the taste of her juices & the soft, damp, scratchy felt-texture of the large ball. She took his free hand, restrained it against the opposite table leg, so he was face down, on his hands & knees. She wrapped a coil of the lizard-tail around her hand & tugged. He shuddered. She tugged again. She was teasing him & with each little tug his giant dick twitched up like the neck of the Loch Ness Monster. Each time she tugged it he seemed to bite the tennis ball a little harder. Finally, she seemed to pause for a moment & then jerked it out with a 'pop' & a dribble of lube & juice, he almost buckled onto the floor.

She left him shivering & pulled on a pair of boy-short panties (surprising, I thought) & then she stepped into a strap-on, the near double of the one that lay a foot away from us.

As if reading my mind, Amari slid our own device over her tight jeans. I matched my father's position, on hands & knees, & as the mystery woman violently pegged my father, his humongous penis flailing & bobbing in front of him, his mouth gagged with the sticky yellow ball, Amari fucked me in a nearly identical fashion, almost matching the woman who was fucking my Dad up the ass, thrust for thrust. The thought of how he'd feel if he knew what his daughter had watched him do & what she was doing at that very moment made my entire cunt radiate with sensitivity.

As he shot a load of cum on the hardwood floors, & the tennis ball fell from his mouth, I came with overwhelming power, practically roaring at the top of my lungs as Amari & I fucked, my clit as hard as a marble. We heard someone bang on the floor of the apartment above us & collapsed into a fit of giggles together, Amari barely managed to shimmy off the strap-on.

Behind us, we heard a quiet 'meow' & turned to finally notice the puzzled little face of Toni's Burmese cat. By then our laughter was uncontrollable. I'd deal with the complicated feelings brought on by this event later. I'd feed the cat later. For now, I thought, it's time to repay my wonderful girlfriend, & I knelt between her legs & started eating.