A Fathers Confusion

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NOTE: This story contains sex between consenting adults of various genders and sexual persuasions. You've been warned. :)

PART 1

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Now, first things first, I'll admit that I'm slow. I've lost track of the number of times that I've been told, normally quite kindly, that I'm oblivious to what's going on around me; but people and life in general just seems to confuse me and try as I might, I just can't understand why some people do the things that they do. Beyond that, though, I've always considered myself to be a fairly normal sort of guy, and at just gone forty five years of age, I thought that I had finally got some kind of handle on just how things work.

But then, almost a year ago, something started to change, and to me at least it wasn't in an obvious way, but it was there nevertheless. Something different. Something that I wasn't grasping. A subtle change that lay just beyond the boundary of conscious understanding, or at least beyond that of

my

conscious understanding anyway. It was as if something had been redefined so that it was no longer as it used to be or should be; but try as I might or lose sleep as I couldn't help but do, I couldn't put my finger on it; and when finally I found something that I thought might have been it, further turmoil always came with it.

Was it something to do with work? Something taking place at the small warehouse in which I and just a dozen or so women worked? No, that was the same as usual. The same boxes, the same shelves, the complete lack of human contact with anyone bar Chrystal, the latest of my far-too-young, far-too-exposed assistants. At first I had thought that the problem might have been the way in which her blouses were slowly but surely showing even more of her cleavage, or the way in which her skirts had been approaching little more than a belt; but there had always been something about my job or the privacy that it entailed that made women act in ways that I felt certain they wouldn't do in public.

Might my confusion have something to do with that fact that she started to skip her panties even though she was often above me on the ladders? Could it be the way in which she spent her break quite obviously stroking herself off across the table from me? I had almost decided that it was and that I would have to speak to her about her behaviour, when a camera that she had forgotten about caught her knelt in only an unbuttoned blouse upon a dildo that she had mounted upon the floor. Somehow she had escaped with just a reprimand, but the feeling of consternation continued even after her clothing returned to it's normal state of affairs. No, whatever it was, she wasn't the cause.

Then perhaps something closer to home? Perhaps something to do with Laura-Jane, my wife of just under thirty years and the woman whom many had said could only have married me for my inheritance? Or perhaps something about my two wonderful kids, Jason and Jasmine? I must admit that my first instinct was to deny that they could be involved, and yet at the same time I couldn't help but admit that my wife had been... Randier. Even more so than was normal even for her. More open with her affection. Less concerned with repressing the love and desire that I, nor any normal man, couldn't help but feel for a woman such as herself. Less concerned with hiding the love and desire that I sometimes can't believe that I still inspire within her.

Could it really be that her increased affection was the cause of my consternation, though? Could I really be losing sleep just because she had started to kiss me more often, or because after just under eighteen years of modesty, she now used her tongue even though the kids were in the same room? Should it really bother me so much that she had started to skip her usual bra and panties in exchange for creations of black lace that displayed everything but at the same time revealed only enough to make me imagine what was hidden? Or that I had walked downstairs to find her dressed in her sheerest negligee, the silk caught upon her erect nipples and her bush a stain of darkness above her clearly-unclothed panty-mound whilst she and the twins prepared breakfast? No. She's still beautiful, still wonderfully fit and trim despite our advancing years, and no matter why it might be that she might suddenly feel more confident about herself, I can greet that change with nothing but enthusiasm.

Then the twins? I wish that I could say that it were them, that I could come to terms with this change that seems to be accelerating and move on with my life once more, but once again I have no reason for complaint. They are as good a pair of kids -... No, at almost nineteen I guess that I have to call them adults, don't I? Anyway, they are as good a pair as any parents could hope to raise. Better, in fact, than I had ever imagined that I would manage, even with ElJay by my side. Diligent in their work at college, friendly and polite with all whom they meet; affectionate and loving with their mother and I, playful with each other. No. Whatever is bothering me, whatever is confusing me, I cannot blame it upon them; and yet... Were they always so affectionate? Had they always been so loving?

Since when had they started to hold hands so often? Since when had they started to become so inseparable? And why is it that they now stay sat beside my wife and I on the settee until we go to bed? When I look back it seems that there is no day where I can say that they stayed with us for a drastically longer time than the day before, and yet it seems not too long ago that they would rush off to their bedrooms immediately after dinner. How is it that I now get to hug and kiss my daughter goodnight before she scampers off to bed? Why is it that the young boy who once shunned my embrace as uncool has turned into a man who not only accepted but almost requested the same hug that I gave his sister?

Of course I had no reason to suspect that the answers to those questions lay within the reach of my limited wits; but for the first time in almost thirty years, talking with ElJay resulted in an answer that was not only obvious, but completely unenlightening.

"You've got a son and daughter who love you more than anything, darling, so just accept it."

Was that all she had to say on the subject?

Couldn't she think of anything to explain why it was that the twins who had rebelled against me as young teenagers were suddenly so affectionate as adults? I knew that she liked to have her secrets sometimes and that she wasn't above playing games with me, but I begged her to come up with something that would lay my mind at rest and allow me to understand my life once more.

"We all love you, darling."

Five words, and then she had silenced any further questions by the simple lowering of her pussy onto my mouth; and when moments later I felt her mouth closing about my slowly-hardening cock, she also removed the last remnants of my willpower. I would do as she said, I decided. Even if I couldn't understand why they did it, what sort of father could complain if his son and daughter wanted to hug and kiss him?

And so for a while I had enjoyed the twins new-found desire to express their affection, until in August Jasmine gave me what I realize now was my first big clue as to what exactly was going on.

PART 2

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As I mentioned earlier, it seemed to me that Jasmine's hugs were becoming both more frequent and more exuberant as the days wore on, and even I couldn't help but notice that this change that I was detecting had started when she reached eighteen. Was it that with her passing into adulthood she no longer felt that she had to deny the state of her body? Certainly before her birthday I had never before felt her breasts crush against me as firmly as they did that night, and whilst I expected the kiss that she must have accidentally pressed against my lips to be the last of its kind, I was to have my prediction proved completely wrong.

From her birthday onward her kisses had increased in both abundance and likelihood of landing upon my lips; and by the time half a year had passed it seemed that if anything, and even with her mother's increased lust, I felt Jasmine's lips upon my own more often than I did ElJay's. A kiss in the morning to wake me up, to greet me at the breakfast table, to see me off to work. A kiss once I returned from work, at dinner, perhaps before the family TV, and then one last time before we split up for bed. And then, as if those weren't enough, eventually it turned into a quick kiss any time we were alone together. And then sometimes a second when it looked like we were just about to join or be joined by ElJay or Jason. Her increased affection was unexpected but welcome, but then I started to feel not just her breasts against my chest or my arm, but her firm, youthful panty-mound against my groin or my hip; and was it just me, or did it seem as if our kisses were taking seconds rather than moments?

Still, which father could go through the trials of his daughter's adolescence and still complain when she loved him at almost nineteen? I went along with her affection, accepting her accidental caresses in silence, but then on the last day of the ninth month I felt her tongue upon my lips. A touch so quick that I thought that I was mistaken until it was repeated the next time we met. Was she forgetting herself? Had the now familiar contact of our lips against each other caused her to mistakenly allow our intimacy to increase? I kept silent out of a desire to avoid causing her any embarrassment; and I waited through a whole week of similar kisses until any thoughts that she might be unaware of her actions were ended by the sight of her brilliant blue eyes wide open and sparkling before me as her tongue darted suddenly against my own. Once. Twice. A third time more slowly, dwelling upon the lips that I had closed in shock.

She knew.

She was doing it deliberately.

The realization was so mind-blowing that I could do nothing but stare at her back and, I have to admit, her sexy behind as she scampered to her bedroom. Could it be a modern fad? A new ritual among the youth of today? A revival of something from the hedonistic thirties? I asked ElJay about it after we made love that night and once the maids had finished our massages, and she giggled and reassured me that it was normal between family members who truly loved each other. Only old fogeys stuck to just lips anymore, she explained, grinning as she did so; and Jason had not only licked her tongue on more than one occasion, but had sucked upon it as well.

He had?

Her simple, casual confession was so shocking that I had lain speechless behind her for several minutes whilst I tried to process her words. Jason. My son Jason had licked my wife's tongue. Had sucked it as I had sucked upon it earlier. Had no doubt -... Had no doubt grown erect -... I fucked ElJay once more then; my cock as hard as iron even though I had just recently cum into her. Turned her onto her front then entered her still wet pussy as she giggled and pushed her hips eagerly back toward me. Thrust into her sodden cunt and slammed my loins against her buttocks as she gasped and urged me onward. Emptied myself once more into her as she squealed into the pillow within which she had buried her face, her vibrator buzzing loudly against her clit. Was it jealousy that drove me? Was it a desire to claim her as my own? To replace the threat of his seed with the reality of my own?

I alternated between trying not to think about it and telling myself that it was, but as I climaxed I for some reason imagined that I was Jason. That it was his youthful cock spurting inside her as I watched. That... That I thrust my cock between ElJay's lips as he did so. That her saliva and cunt-cream glistened upon our cocks as we traded places until no-one could tell whose cum it was that dribbled from the pink entrance to her womb, or swirled within her mouth.

Until we faced each other, father and son, and we let our cocks -

No. I'm not like that!

I don't swing that way, and even if I did, definitely not with my own son!.. But he was everything that I wished that I could be; and what if I could watch him bringing her to a climax? What if I could watch him fuck her, then pull out at the last moment to shower her beautiful body with his cum? Or what if I could slide into her, feeling not just her juices but his seed about my cock when I spurted my own into her? The thoughts were as arousing as they were disturbing and as wickedly tempting as they were forbidden; but I knew that they would remain just that forever, that there was no way that they could ever come true. No way that I could ever admit to such filthy desires.

Despite my anxieties and encouraged by my ElJay's delighted embrace, I slept like a log after that orgasm, and when morning came I looked at my beautiful, peacefully-sleeping wife and wondered if I could really be so out of touch with the times. Might my sometimes-too-kind wife be hiding her own concerns from me, or overplaying our son's actions in order to assuage my own fears? I was still pondering her words when ElJay awoke, and she must have sensed some part of my confusion within my greeting, for she told me to take a day off from work. Told me that I should hide in the bedroom closet when it was time for the twins to return; and that if I did so I would see just how understated her words had been. A joke on her part? A game to tease me, or to incite the lust that had driven me so unexpectedly last night? Certainly we fucked not just once but twice in-between housework and TV; but she insisted that I hide within our bedroom closet upon the twins return from college, and when I did so I witnessed first-hand the kisses that she had stated were the new normal.

Kisses in which my handsome son thrust his tongue between her scarlet-painted lips. In which their tongues played briefly between the two of them. In which their hands roved over each other, briefly caressing each other's cheeks or hair or buttocks as they caught and sucked upon each other's tongues playfully. In which she thrust her gorgeous, ample breasts against his chest. My son with my wife as my baby daughter watched as if entranced, and then her with my wife. Their hips grinding together as their breasts ground against each other and ballooned between them; their hands stroking hair and neck as they giggled, kissing again and again. Swapping saliva. Drooling into each other's mouths as Jason watched, grinning in delight. Mother and daughter gazing eye to eye in between kisses as they aimed and stroked their clearly erect teats against each other.

And then my son and my daughter rolling about on top of our marital bed as my wife giggled and scolded them for their lack of help with the laundry; the two twins seemingly undecided as to whether they should wrestle or kiss, pinning each other then gazing eye to eye before kissing mischievously. Him above her in what would have been the missionary position had they been naked, his loins rubbing gently against hers as if he would fuck her if he could. Her above him, her saliva dribbling into his open, upturned mouth as she sat above him cowgirl style; her buttocks moving backward and forward along the bulge within his trousers. Him once more above her as she lay upon her front, her neck twisted so that she could look sideways and upward; his kisses landing upon her ear and cheek, her buttocks lifted to his loins as I remembered dizzily how I had taken ElJay last night

My God.

I saw the truth of my wife's words a thousand times over whilst I stared in awe-struck fascination; but then, when I thought that the twins were about to head to their rooms and that everything was over, what followed blew what had preceded out of the water.

A three-way kiss. The three people who were the most precious to me in the whole world stood in mutual embrace. Mouths wide open. Tongues dancing. Saliva glistening. Hands squeezing buttocks. I expected a succession of quick kisses like those that they had shared so far, but instead they maintained contact. Broke their kiss only to whisper their love, panting and gasping and trembling barely more than a meter from me as I stared in awe and wonder.

And, perversely, in arousal.

In some ways it would have been better had it been ElJay with another couple, for the two who kissed her were our children, born of our love and from her body; and yet I grew hard as I watched. The flushes of exertion upon their faces. The heaving of my wife's ample breasts and the thrust of Jasmine's nipples whenever she stepped back for breath. The long, slender bulge of my son's cock during those times when it wasn't pressed against his mother or his sister. How could even this have become normal? How could it have become acceptable for my daughter to nuzzle her brother's neck as she squeezed his buttocks; or for him to cup and lift the breasts which crushed against him before sweeping his hands across the clearly-unprotected nipples; or for my wife to...

My God!

I had thought that my children were daring beyond belief, and yet rather than them, it was ElJay who led. Her hands not upon the skirt that hid Jasmine's delightful buttocks but within it instead, squeezing and groping without a care in the world; moving upward beneath our daughter's blouse to cup the breasts that so matched her own. Returning downward not empty-handed as I had expected, but clutching a creation of lace and silk that she dropped casually to the ground; the bounce and the ever-so-slight droop of Jasmine's breasts confirming as if it wasn't already obvious just what it was that my wife had so skilfully removed. They laughed and giggled, sinking onto the bed; and as Jason pulled and twisted at the protrusions of his sister's obviously erect teats my wife ran her hand along the length of his shaft not just once or twice but repeatedly! She stroked him all the way from his balls to the tip of his cock, and then when I felt as if my heart might stop, she grasped his shaft and held it as if using it to steady herself against him as she ground her loins against his hip!

How could I have become so out of touch with the times?

How could what would have in my youth been considered shocking behaviour now be considered normal? And yet, it would explain so much, wouldn't it? The kisses that Jasmine had given me. The actions of the women at work. No, I would accept my gorgeous ElJay's word that it was normal and acceptable, but at the same time I couldn't help but imagine what might happen were she to do the same with a man and a woman not bound by to her by blood. How could such hungry and erotic kisses fail to lead to full-blown sex?

What if I might witness the kissing that took place before me end not in giggles and a flurry of gently-slapped bottoms before the twins departed, but in passion and ecstasy instead? What if I might get to witness my beautiful wife in bliss before another man or upon another woman's face, or even being shared between the two? The thought was terrifying! What if they hurt her? What if...

What if they wanted her again?

The thought made my blood run cold. Surely they would. Surely no normal man or woman could experience the delight of her lust and fail to demand more. What if they took her again and again, and once she had experienced the pleasure that they could give her, she needed them more than me? What if she had no more need for a too-slow forty-something whose cock was no longer as virile as it had once been? I could imagine almost nothing more horrible that didn't hurt ElJay or our children, and yet, at the same time... Wouldn't it be the most wonderful thing in the world if I could see every expression that ElJay made as she was brought to her peak?