Sunday - Maxwell's Smart
I rode Daddy for twenty minutes before he came. I'd come a bunch of times by then, but I saved the biggest for last. Well, not last, exactly. Afterwards, I managed to massage and suckle his dick back to life with my pussy, so he was good to go for another quarter-hour.
After his second orgasm, though, he was pretty much done in. He gasped like a fish for a bit, then managed to say, "We both know you can go on like this for hours - but I need a rest! And something to eat."
He gave me a smooch, and then lifted me off his knackered knob.
I was a bit disappointed I'd worn Daddy out already, but I sucked it up and said, "Sunday breakfast! Right - what would you like? Fruit? Cheese? Eggs Benedict? Coffee, fer sure."
"Christ, I'm sorry, Trace, I forgot you can't eat ..."
He'd also forgotten that his stated needs were my commands, although in this case the sooner I fulfilled them and got him back in fettle, the sooner I'd be back in the saddle. "Don't worry about it - relax and I'll whip up anything you like."
"Just some bacon and eggs would be nice - and, yeah, coffee. Thanks."
"You got it," I chirped, and skipped off to the kitchen to get started while Daddy hauled himself out of bed and showered. He wandered in just as I'd finished laying out our breakfast. I joined him at the table - I wasn't hungry (for food!) but it just seemed cordial. And, hungry or not, it all smelled pretty good. I idly dabbled a finger in the jam and licked it clean - mmm, strawberry. So then I thought, well, I can eat cum, so why not nibble on some of my other favorites? After all, it would all come out in the wash ... so to speak.
Daddy lifted an eyebrow as I began to tuck in. "God, Tracie! I look at you, and I still see Lacy, but ... she never ate with me."
I guess Lacy just wasn't much for breakfast, 'cause if I could do it ... hey!
All in all, I could see Daddy was starting to look on the bright side. After all, I'd become his daughter, his lover, and his sex-toy, all rolled into one package. I was planning to get him to work his way down through that list again, but just then the back door burst open. Which meant, Adele had arrived! Hooray!
"Did you tell him?"
"Hello to you, too, Adele," said Daddy.
"Right! Hey, Richard," she said, and then laid a big kiss on him. "Yum, marmalade! She didn't tell you, did she?"
"Give us a hint, cutie."
"Me and Tracie think we should go see my Uncle Max. We need to set up a cover story, so I can keep spending time with you two."
"Good idea. When?"
"Well ... nowish, actually. I told Mom I was walking over to Max's place for a while.
We've still got two and a half hours before robo-babe, here, turns into a pumpkin."
"Looks like you've got it all figured out. Carry on then. I'll go rest my weary bones and then take another EverReady pill."
"Geez, Tracie, don't wear him out. Save a little for me."
Well I can take a hint - or in this case, direct orders from each of my owners. Fine then - let's go see Max.
>< >< ><
"So what's the plan?"
"Did you read all about your accessories yet?"
"Huh? Not as such ..."
Adele sighed. "Not a problem. Listen. Uncle Max really thinks of Greta as his girlfriend, even if it looks like there's a bit of a 'Stepford Wife' thing going on. She's got her own bedroom, and her own stuff. Anyway, let me do the talking."
We had simply shown up, having patted his two big Dobermans (Dobermen?) when we'd climbed the back fence. It was still only eight o'clock, but Adele said he was always up early, 'cause Greta kept the same hours as I did. Which meant we knew she'd be awake (as it were), too.
"Hey, Uncle Max! It's me!" Which (silent dogs aside) it pretty much had to be, since we were knocking on the door of his glass-walled pool.
It was Greta who let us in, wearing a see-through-when-wet bikini bottom (that was too small to have hidden her bald pussy, regardless). She was blonde, beautiful, and way taller than I'd expected - like, almost six feet. Her tasty-looking tits were bigger than mine. Not huge, but firm and pleasingly pendulous. They suited her height. The all-over watery sheen and baked-in tan didn't hurt anything either. "Hello ..." She paused for about a nanosecond when she saw me behind Adele, and then continued, "Come on in."
Max came up behind her, in a tatty old bathrobe. "Hey, Adele," he said, in a tone that suggested that calling ahead would be nice. Then he gave me a quick, appraising look, but it was a 'checkin' out yer bod' sort of look, not, 'Say! Aren't you a robot?'
"Hey, Uncle Max. This is Mister Ward's friend, uh, Lacy."
"Hi, Lacy. Ward? Oh, right - Tracie's Dad. How's she doing?" Which meant that either my demise wasn't common knowledge yet or, more likely, that Max just hadn't heard the news. I'd visited with Adele a few times, pre-Greta. So he was bound to think it was odd for her to bring over Daddy's luscious new tart (which is what I must have looked like, in spite of my wearing my most respectable clothes) and not me - Tracie.