Becca silently motioned for me to come closer. I initially hesitated, when I noticed she was not smiling. This seemed odd. There she was, mostly naked, in my father's bed. This seemed like her natural habitat as a nomadic slut. Why did she look so upset?
I was about to speak when she pressed her finger to her lips. Her eyes looked towards the door. I nodded, locking the hired home nurse out of the room. "Good call."
I expected Becca to smirk or say 'told you so,' but still, there was only silence.
"What?"
She pointed to a rash on my father's leg. It was an area near the scar tissue of his leg stump, there had been an untreated open wound. "That lazy ass-hat of a nurse left him with bedsores," Becca said in a whisper.
"That's not possible." Unless it was. I'd just assumed the nurse (who came with a resume full of work experience and a decent list of education credentials) had been with my father whenever I wasn't.
"Because you've been watching them at all hours of the day?" Becca asked sarcastically.
I hated the fact she was right. I had not been helping my father out of bed to bathe or even use the restroom. I had royally fucked up and that was why he was becoming sicker.
Becca sighed. "Be a dear and grab me a clean towel, and perhaps some of those hand wipes."
I wasn't sure who she was talking to. When I didn't immediately move, Lucy (with an annoyed expression) got up to retrieve the requested items. Part of me wanted to apologize, but then again this was Becca (and her lesbian fucktoy,) there was no reason they deserved my respect or gratitude.
Becca removed the blankets from the bed, fully revealing my father's naked body. She placed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Oh, you poor soul; left to die of fever while my daddy parties in the Caribbean." She softly stroked her fingers down his neck, to his chest, ending at his stomach. He was thin (way too thin), but with sculpted, defined abs. My father's nude body had the look of a Jesus sculpture, with Becca in the role of the Holy Mother. She was holding him, kissing his neck. She reached into her bra, pulling out a small bag of pills. To the untrained eye, they look like Pez or some other kind of cheap pressed-sugar candy.
Lucy placed the clean towel under my father's leg, allowing her to sanitize the wound. She then handed the wipes to Becca, along with a washcloth.
"Thank you, my love," Becca said sweetly, she took one pill for herself, and the other for Lucy. A third she placed in my father's open mouth.
My father leaned his head back, closing his eyes. "Yum," he said in a deep, soft moan as he dry-swallowed the unknown treat.
Becca tossed me the bag with the final pill.
"Thanks." I looked at the shape from multiple angles. Maybe it was just candy? My plan was to slip the pill into my daddy's mouth. (Or maybe I could save it for Jay.) "What is it?"
"Does it matter?" Becca asked with a laugh.
'Kind of.' I put the pill under my tongue, still unsure if I wanted to take the risk.
Becca placed the washcloth over my father's face, like a blindfold, allowing her to kiss his mouth. Soon they were making out; his hands tried to reach for her, but Becca pinned his wrists. "If you're a good fuckboy maybe I'll let you motorboat my tits. That's what old men like you seem to enjoy."
My father grunted, but remained silent, allowing her full control over his mouth while Lucy gripped his cock.
I watched as Lucy kissed the tip, letting her elaborately jeweled tongue slide down the side of his shaft. She seemed pleased with herself.
Becca turned to me, pressing her tongue to the inside of her mouth. "What do you say? Do you want a taste of the messiah?"
"I think I do." I swallowed the pill, letting the magic wash over me. Maybe it was a placebo, maybe I was hallucinating. Or maybe I was just where I needed to be.
Becca moved her tits over my daddy's face, positioning herself as the perfect distraction.
Gripping his amputated leg, I spread him open. I got a good look at his body. His cock stood proudly, showing life, courage. His balls were thick and heavy. I gave him a tender squeeze. There was a chance Becca was right. What if he just needed to climax?
There was just the small matter of performance anxiety; when it came to eating ass, I suffered from a slight case of PTSD. Mention of the act was always an offensive term intended as punishment. Typically, it meant that the older, filthy, sadistic client wanted to make me suffer. The demand was used as a power play, a way to make me fear for my life (due to lack of airflow) while at the same time forcing me to do something that was only for their pleasure. (Basically, the same reasons you would force the act on someone in prison.)
I stroked my daddy's thigh. He was warm, quivering. Was I supposed to say something? 'No, you idiot. There's a reason she hasn't mentioned you by name.' I spit on the back of my hand, lubing my fingers. I could do whatever I wanted, and what I wanted was to place my knuckle to his hairy, clean asshole. I massaged him with gentle pressure.
My father moaned, leaning his head back in absolute ecstasy. His body moved like a webcam model, putting on a show for anyone willing to pay ten dollars a minute.
I wanted to say something. I had to; this was every kind of wrong. I opened my lips to speak, fully intending on revealing my presence. Lucy placed her finger to my lips. "You could speak, but then you'd have to stop."
I knew she was right. It was only genetics that made this wrong. I kissed my daddy's emaciated thigh, his body tasted like sweat; salty, sweet, with a sparkle of energy. That was when I knew, I wanted to do this. I needed to stop being such a coward. After all, there was a big difference between tongue fucking a client (because your mother needed the extra $200) and doing it for someone you genuinely care about. I could absolutely do this.
I took off my shirt, ready to devote myself. I tongued my daddy's ass; licking once then twice. It felt like a kiss, each touch more erotic than the last. His body reacted in a way that seemed truly grateful. He tasted clean, likely from the fact he could no longer hold down solid food. I took a silent breath, mentally preparing myself to go all in.
My mouth opened, lips caressing him as my tongue dared to taste. With his cock and balls in my face, I made out with his ass, going deeper and deeper until Lucy tapped my arm, motioning my attention to Becca.
My girlfriend held my daddy's head, closing his eyes, as they kissed. She made an effort to hold her mouth over his for several seconds at a time, depriving him of air. "My friends and I, are going to milk your prostate, you're going to experience a sexual climax so intense it will shake your foundation of reality. don't be afraid. I'm going to talk you through it." She put a pillow over his face, completely blocking his vision.
For a moment I felt myself slipping back to reality. This was not acceptable; she had ten seconds to change her 'style of play', before I let my emotions take hold. After what I had watched Jay go through, I was not in the mood for more 'torture porn.'
Becca then lifted the pillow just enough to reveal his mouth. She traced her finger along his lower lip. "Talk to me about your father. was he a good man?" I assumed she asked that because (typically) fathers of LGBT sons were supportive loving people; or the devil. Guess which one my grandfather was?
"We were never close," the words my father spoke were soft, painful.
"Did he leave?"
"I wish."
My grandfather treated him horribly. some say it was his addiction to drugs others say it was because grandpa knew my dad wasn't his child.
I could feel a sense of sadness, the exact opposite of erotic. Thankfully, Becca seemed to pick up on this as well and opted to change the topic.
"Talk to me about your son. What was Marcus like as a little boy?"
For a moment I saw him smile.
My father leaned his head back, taking in a deep, calming breath. "When my ex was pregnant, I could feel his aura. I knew I had to stay."
"With your abusive ex-wife?"
"Ex-partner," he said with a sigh. "If I married her, I would have had an easier time getting full custody of my precious little boy."
"How do you figure?" Becca asked.
"Just what my lawyer said at the time," he replied with a sense of sadness. "My lack of commitment showed a lack of devotion to family. Bullshit, right?" He turned to Becca, leaning towards her warmth. "I'd sleep with my head on her belly, listening for him. I wanted to know his voice, his face.
Becca giggled, "Awww, that's so sweet." She looked towards Lucy. "Such a beautiful man, with such a kind heart."
