My dad and I had been fucking for a few months before the scene this episode will describe took place. I was settling into the routine of it, even. He took me about twice a week -- his restraint I found a little touching. When we got together, after all, he became increasingly frantic and wild in his horniness, in his reaction to the things he made me do with my body.
I became good at obeying the rules he'd set down for me:
1. Whenever he grunted that he was about to cum, I was to scramble out of whatever position we were in and clamp my mouth around the tip of his cock.
2. After his cum entered my mouth, I was to hold it there for a moment before slowly dripping it onto my tits.
3. Whenever he tapped me on my shoulder, I was to meet him in the laundry room in two minutes, no questions or objections.
4. Whenever he came up behind me and massaged my shoulders, no matter what I was doing or what plans I had, I was to follow him to the car and go wherever he wanted to take me.
5. He wanted to know about my state of arousal. I was to tell him whenever my pussy started to get wet -- and if I failed, I would be punished. If he said the words "Wet now?" I was to immediately part my legs and pull my panties to the side, whereupon he would touch my lips. If they were wet, and I hadn't told him I was getting wet, I would be getting five hard slaps to the face, followed by a gagging and rough blowjob, at our next meeting.
Only once had I failed the wetness test, and the rough blowjob I was forced to endure later that night convinced me never to do it again. Yet it was also humiliating walking up to him out of the blue and telling him I was wet, before he'd even asked.
Once, I did this during an evening party my parents were hosting, attended mainly by coworkers of my mother. The funny thing was, it hadn't been anything about my dad that made me wet. One of the younger men of the group had flirted with me, in a devastatingly charming way. He was gorgeous, even if he was twice my age, and I felt my panties just about melt. I had to find my dad, who was actually by himself in the kitchen loading up another tray of hors d'oerves. I walked up next to him and leaned in his ear and whispered, "I'm wet."
He smiled. Stroked my cheek tenderly. "Good girl," he said. "I have to mingle with a couple of people -- but after that...." His eyes wandered down my body and back up again. "Meet me in the laundry room, 15 minutes."
That amount of time later, my dress was hiked up, my panties pulled aside, and thick hard cock was sliding in and out of my pussy. When he came in my mouth, this time, he told me to swallow it, as we both were going to be missed -- and looked for -- if we didn't return to the veranda in a reasonable time.
Back outside and mingling again as though my dad and I had just excused ourselves to wash dishes, I couldn't get sex out of my mind. I didn't tell Daddy that I came about a minute after his cock slid into me -- which, for me, was unheard of before this. Nor did I tell him that I couldn't stop fantasizing about Daddy sharing me with the charming husband of my wife's peer.
I found myself becoming transformed into a crazed sexaholic. My identity was wrapping itself more and more tightly around a self-image as Daddy's slave. Knowing that Mom was going to be off for the next two weeks -- and therefore at home all the time -- I even found myself wondering, with disappointment, about when my next tryst with Daddy would be.
* * *
I didn't have to wait long, it turned out. And the next episode proved to be a doozy.
It began with me sitting on the sofa, dozing off to some movie, on a boring Tuesday afternoon, around 2:30. I was done with classes for the day, I had worked out really hard at the gym at noon, and the afternoon drowsiness had settled in.
I had just been dreaming about being a contestant on a game show when I felt two strong hands gently massage my shoulders. A yawn opened my face, my legs stretched, and I looked up Daddy, who simply nodded.
I was to follow him to the car, and go wherever he wanted to take me. We passed Mom on the way out, as we walked through the kitchen to the garage. On the phone with some friend of hers, she placed a palm over the speaker as if to ask us where we were going and when we'd back.
"We're going to look for presents for the twins' birthdays," my father said cheerfully. Then, in the first sign of what he had in store for me, he added, "and we won't be home for dinner. We're going to just eat at the mall."
My throat went dry until a few minutes into the drive; I realized I was in some shock of excitement. There was fear mixed in horniness and awe at my father's command and daring. This was simply a man who took what he wanted in life.
So distracted that I almost forgot. "I'm wet, Daddy," I said, softly, my voice almost cracking.
"I'm glad that tight, sexy pussy's wet, my little slut. It's going to get even wetter - 'cause get a load of this: we're meeting up with a guy who plays with a daughter your age. And her mom is in on it, too."
I gulped. My pulse quickened. "And from what he tells about it, those two eat pussy so well that you'll be begging for relief in minutes."
I gulped. "You're going to have me be -- be with girls?"
"Hell yes," he said, as we sped down the Interstate, my dad's favorite country channel streaming through the speakers.
"You think I don't want to see that adorable face of yours glazed with pussy juice?"
Unconsciously, I rubbed my thighs together as a shiver ran through my body. Part of it was the cold of the car -- I was in little gray sweatshorts and a t-shirt, with flip flops, my hair in a baseball cap. Dad was in jeans and a flannel long sleeve shirt.
"Ever kiss or touch a girl, April?" We had just gotten onto an exit ramp.
"No daddy," I said. "I don't know if it's something I can get into, honestly."
My dad thought a few moments and said, "Well, you're going to learn to love it. And until you do, you'll enjoy how hard it makes cock and how it'll make me even hotter for you."
I thought about this. Then he added, "And, of course, today you'll have two different cocks working your tight little body."
My mind had focused so much on how I was going to be able to make myself lick a girl ... down there (I couldn't even think of the words or visualize it)...that I'd forgotten that my dad was taking me where (among other things) another man was going to violate me sexually.
***
We rang the bell, with my dad holding me close, one arm around my shoulder, the hand clearly caressing my breast.
The door opened, and we were greeted by a woman in her early forties, with a short and curvy, but very fit, body, and long thick light brown hair.
"Hi David," she said. "And this must be April. Oh, my. You weren't kidding -- she is super adorable."
Once inside, and offered drinks, the woman gently stroked my cheek and said, "My my, I am going to molest that hot little body all day." My dad grinned. She told me that I was to call her Mrs. Dean.
She had a broad, welcoming face, with big brown friendly eyes and high big cheekbones. Her skin was radiant and soft. Her skin was soft and smooth and tan, inviting you to touch. Her outfit revealed large breasts, which stretched the tight fabric of her olive-colored chemis, and they rode high on her chest suggesting that she was gifted there too in the way her body defied her age. The only thing else she wore were a matching pair of thong panties.
"I think I hear that Phil is out of the shower - so why don't we head upstairs and start the fun," Mrs. Dean said.
A gentle arm curled around my waist, leading us upstairs. As we walked, her other hand fondled my breasts over my shirt.
"We are going to make you squeal, my sexy little cat," she said.
***
When we walked into the room, Mr. Dean was already naked, his cock rock hard. He sat in a love seat, sipping from a glass of brandy. Joy was on her knees at his feet.
She was busty, like her mother, but taller and a bit more lean. She had a stylish short haircut, featuring dark brown waves with light brown highlights, which made her cool blue eyes pop. Also like her mother, she was blessed with perfect cheekbones.
In short, she had a face you wanted to hold in your hands, stare at lovingly, and kiss passionately. Even though she was 25 and so older than I was, her face hadn't lost a bit of her teenage sparkle.
She wore a robe of dark red silk. "Hi, April," she said. "Come sit with me." I paused before stepping forward, leaving the embrace of Mrs. Dean and the side of my father. I knelt next to Joy on the warm soft carpet between the love seat and the bed. Wearing, basically, my workout gear, I felt undredressed compared to the sexy looks Joy and her mother were sporting.
Soon enough, of course, I knew we'd all be wearing the same thing.
