Women are such incredible creatures. After being married to one for twenty years, you might get the impression that you know what to expect them to do under most circumstances. After years and years of assorted attempts to improve the variety and spontaneity of our sex lives, with very little success, I had sort of given up. We had sex from time to time, and I'm not saying it wasn't good, but it was never as exciting as it had been in our earlier years.
After years of being trained to regard "not tonight" as a small victory over "NO!", I despaired at ever getting my still beautiful, sexy wife with the hot body to relax and allow me to guide her into fields we had never explored. There were times when she would go so far as to complain that sex was boring, without seeming to realize that sex the same way every time, under the same conditions, with the same person might be the reason she found it boring.
Living with the Queen of Denial kept me in a constant state of horny. Hell, I'm only 43 and so is she. We have some of the best possible years of our life left to enjoy together and she won't relax enough to allow us to enjoy life to its fullest.
As our daughter had grown up and matured, my constant erection status kept me very aware of her budding sexuality. Of course this awareness increased the erection status considerably, and so on, if you know what I mean. Brief glimpses of a bit of skin, here and there. An encounter in the hallway as she came back from the bathroom at the end of the hall. An inadvertent peek through a partially open door into her room as she was dressing. These were the things that kept me constantly aroused and able to maintain my ability to perform with my wife under her lust-killing restrictions.
I grew bolder, allowing my robe sometimes to be less than fully closed when Kelly and I would meet in the hallway. By unspoken agreement, we became bolder and bolder in our hallway meetings. Brenda would normally be in the kitchen during these times, while Kelly and I were getting ready for work and school.
Kelly had to walk down the hallway after her bath, but there was no reason she had to make the trip in a towel. I had no reason to be in the hall at that time, other than to get a glimpse of skin. I always pretended that I was on my way somewhere, but she probably saw through me.
When we would meet, she would smile at me then look down. For a long time, I thought she was merely being modest, but then I realized that she was staring at my crotch, which was usually tented out from the hard-on that was desperately yearning for release, somewhere, somehow, in something--anything!--hot and wet.
I was on my way home from work when it dawned on me that she was trying to see my dick! The possibility that this was the truth caused me to have an instant erection. My fat dick was straining for release. Some of my pubic hairs had been caught between my foreskin and what must be a purplish head by now and was being pulled out by the roots. I had no choice but to unzip and pull Old Glory out to relieve the pain. Really! No choice.
Oh, well. As long as it was out, I might as well relieve the pressure a little by stroking it. However, the excitement of driving down Elm Street with my dick in my hand while thinking about the possibilities of my nearly naked daughter wanting to see what I had under my robe, was too much.
I managed to keep my eyes open, but I wasn't aware of very much around me when the blast hit me. My orgasms for the last many years had been so totally predictable. I knew that first you put it in, then you wiggle it around and push in and out, then your wife asks if you're going to be much longer, so you speed up and pretty soon you feel a pressure building up that will eventually be relieved and life will go back to hum-drum. After, of course, you jump up and clean all traces of the nasty stuff from your body. Couldn't have a drop of that nasty stuff contaminating the sheets, now could we? Why, that would be Disgusting, wouldn't it, dear?
Given this background, you can imagine my surprise when I blew a wad of that nasty stuff through the steering wheel and onto the windshield, where it dripped back onto the dashboard and ran down into the inaccessible places where they all joined. Horrible thoughts of trying to get that shit cleaned up well enough to be missed by Brenda were pushed aside by even more horrible thoughts of the gooey shit that my entire crotch was now swamped in. My hand had continued pumping the gusher while my mind was occupied with possible repercussions.
What the fuck was I going to do? I couldn't go home like this. I couldn't go home until the car and myself were both restored to pristine condition. Wiping my hand on my pants leg well enough to keep from sliming up my cell phone, I called Brenda.
"Hi honey. Sorry to be late, but I picked up a nail or something and a tire has gone flat on me. I'm going to drop by Wal-Mart and get it fixed. Is there anything else I can pick up for you while I'm there?" I knew very well to bolster my lie with enough supportable fact to prevent easy discovery.
"Oh, hi darling. Thanks for calling. I'll put dinner on the back of the stove, then. Do you think you'll be very long?"
"Shouldn't take more than 30-45 minutes. Want me to pick up something?" I needed a reason to be seen going through the register when I bought the new pants.
She gave me a list of a couple of things she could use and I headed toward Wal-Mart.
When I arrived, I pulled into an open bay and asked them to rotate the tires while I ran into the store for some purchases. I managed to pick up a shopping bag to hide my crotch until I could get to the mens' clothing area.
After picking out a clean pair of pants and the stuff for Brenda, I retrieved the car and drove to a car wash to clean the cum off the dashboard and windshield. The guy at Wal-Mart had given me a thumbs up signal when he saw the cum tracks. I couldn't help grinning a little. Not a bad shot for an old man, huh?
I used my sticky pants to clean up all traces of cum that were still visible and tried to vacuum out any that might be in the cracks of the dash board. At the last minute, it occurred to me to look at the seat and floor. Oh shit! There was a huge puddle on the floor and a wet stain on the seat. I must have cum a gallon.
Thinking back, I couldn't help grinning to myself. Under Brenda's tight restrictions, my ejaculations had dwindled to the point that there wasn't that much to clean up after our infrequent sex sessions. I had watched the decline with dismay, thinking that it signaled the start of old age and that my sex life would be completely over before too long.
The immensity of shit I had delivered with the right inspiration restored my confidence to an unbelievable degree. Hey! I'm not dead after all! There is life after forty! All it took to restore me to my boyhood potency, or more, had been the thoughts that my sexy daughter might be trying to catch a glimpse of her father's noble prick.
My reaction should tell you how much I worry about the old incest taboo. My only concern was the mental health and well-being of my daughter, plus my relationship with my wife. I wanted to be extremely careful not to push the envelope with Kelly in any way that she would regard now or later as a negative experience. On the other hand, I convinced myself that if she had a need to know what a prick looked like, then I had a duty as her father to teach her what she wanted to know. The brain is a wonderful thing. It can find a way to justify whatever the hell your body needs, and boy, did my body need something! My assumption that my dick would be limber for the next week or so after that blast was proven false almost immediately. While I was still cleaning my cum from the car, the smell of sex and remembrance of the reasons for the smell had me hard as a rock.
I finished the cleanup as best I could using my pants before dumping them in a trash can. There was no way Brenda would miss those stains. Better to lose a pair of pants than a wife.
"Honey, I'm home!"
"Oh, hi dear. Just drop that stuff anywhere. I'll get dinner on the table right away. Kelly has already eaten and went to her room to study. What happened to your pants, dear? Those aren't the ones you wore to work. They look cheap."
