John gets with the program
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Another story in the Dick and Jane occasional collection. The stories are fiction but I hope reflect some universal truth. Best read in sequence. All characters over 18.
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Dick and Jane are in cahoots, John follows their lead, Carrie joins in, hijinks and incest ensue. Will breeding follow?
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"Breakfast's ready, Jane", John calls up the stairs.
He finishes serving her favorite—pancakes with blueberries, and coffee. She always leaves the coffee; she wants him to serve it so she can think she's all grown up. Next John serves our favorite—steak and eggs. Gotta keep our strength up.
He sits and sips his coffee as we wait. She comes downstairs and drops her bag at the front door.
John pauses mid-sip. For a moment I think he's going to spit it out.
Even I can tell something special is in the air. I can't see her but there's a familiar scent. John never picks up on scents but I do. It's how I stay five steps ahead of him. Yep, she's at peak ovulation cycle. I knew she was getting close yesterday, but this morning I feel her vibrating with unconscious carnality. I can only imagine how she's dressed, which is what John's is reacting to.
"My God, Jane, you've outdone yourself today. You look absolutely stunning."
"Thank you, daddy! Do you like it?"
She pirouettes slowly, going up
en pointe
and stretching her hands high. John and I both love this pose and we pay close attention. We react as one, and John adjusts how he's sitting so I can breath. Sometimes I wish he'd wear a kilt.
"You've done your nails—perfect lipstick—not too much—your hair is braided—a single rope—that lovely sundress and frilly top I got for you this summer. Alluring but innocent. What's the occasion?"
"Oh nothing, I just feel... happy and... I don't know... somehow really... alive... this morning... like I'm ready... for anything."
"Well you look ready for anything and I'm sure you are. As for me, I've got laundry to do then I'll get some work done. The other's left early. An early meeting for Erin and soccer practice for Kevin. They won't be home until tomorrow. So let's eat, then I'll get you to class."
"Oh don't worry, daddy, Carrie is picking me up today. We're going to the mall after last class."
At the mention of Carrie, I feel John's mind jump, then wander off—upstairs to his computer if I'm not mistaken. I start to daydream too, stiffening and thickening in my tight quarters. Carrie's a pretty little thing, and we love when she comes to visit. Maybe she'll stay for dinner.
John adjusts himself so I can breathe again. I get quite cramped when Carrie's on his mind.
There's a honk outside. "Gotta run", Jane says and dashes for the door.
John watches the back of her sundress ride up as she bends to fiddle with her backpack. She smiles back over her shoulder at John, who's holding his coffee mug in two hands and gazing at her over the top. The coffee cools.
I know what she's doing. We've been a tag team for years, she and me, leading John while letting him thinks he's in charge. She's holding that pose and quietly watching John undress her. She even wiggles slightly to test his trance. She knows how to play a man. I, of course, am standing ramrod straight in his tented chinos, firing chemical and electrical signals non-stop up his groggy channels to his slow lizard brain. Yep, she and me's a team!
She's finally satisfied."Missing you already, daddy!" And Dick too, I think. And then she's gone.
Like the Cheshire cat, she leaves her smile and scent of her fertility wafting in the air.
Ten minutes later John slowly lowers the cold coffee to the table, rubs his eyes, stands, rubs me, then throws both breakfasts out. Hey, hang on mate, you may be done for, but I need my strength!
***
Still in his trance, John gets the laundry hamper and heads upstairs. First stop, Jane's room.
He bends to pick up various bits of clothing she's dropped, including multiple panties and bras. For years he's made sure she has plenty to spare so she doesn't miss them when they disappear.
Most go in the hamper, but some are sniffed and if the item takes his fancy—which I alert him to with cascading signals from crotch to lizard brain—he keeps it for his collection in the locked bottom drawer. They're usually panties, but sometimes a bra, t-shirt or sock.
He also opens Jane's underwear drawer and finds the pills hidden at the back. It's a secret prescription he organized years ago for Jane from a sympathetic doctor friend—safe sex with no written record. His and Jane's secret. No point in anyone else knowing. He inspects the packet with its circle of blisters and counts the pills. This is the 13th of the month, so there should be 13 used and 18 left. But there are at least 24 left. He stares at it and strokes his chin. I like him, and he brings me plenty of tail, but God, sometimes he's a slow old cunt.
Obviously—duh!—Jane has been playing Russian roulette with her cycle, at least this month and probably for many months. It could be unconscious but that really doesn't matter. Her tight cunt and I both know how eagerly she has been fucking lately, and how certain instincts are getting very insistent. She may have been careless about the pills, but carelessness about important things means wanton caring for the opposite.
We may be five steps ahead of John, but she's two steps ahead of me. Now it's time that I catch up.
Good old John—oh, slow John, slow John, slow John, slow—will just have to follow at his own pace. He scratches his head—yep, slowly—then puts the pills back where he found them. He doesn't need to understand everything yet. I'll lead him for now and he'll thank me later.
Meanwhile, I am really wishing for the steak and eggs and pancakes. Anything to take my mind off Jane's fertile little womb and moist cunt under that 'fuck me now' sundress. I just can't relax. I've been as stiff as a steel rod since breakfast. It's tiring and I need sustenance. Occasionally John adjusts his chinos to give me room, and even wanks me slowly in absent-minded sympathy. But he really doesn't understand what's happening.
In his mind, his daughter is looking gorgeous and will be at the mall with Carrie, no doubt also in a 'fuck me' sundress. Two peas in a pod innocently waiting to be topped, tailed and shucked.
I, on the other hand, know that Jane—my teammate in all things fecund—is at the peak of her cycle and on the prowl. She may not be conscious of it, but she is ready, primed and willing to be bred.
***
John is having a hell of a day. He can't concentrate. Even browsing his favorite websites and playing with his panty collection can't calm him down. That's partly my fault, though I have my reasons. Whenever he starts to relax I remind him of his last sight of Jewell this morning and he forgets what he's doing.
After lunch I make one last try and send a barrage of chemical and neuro signals up the channel. A medley of vague thoughts slowly percolates through his brain—about protecting his daughter, about breeding risk and breeding chances, paternal responsibility and paternal rights, mutual promises. I'm trying to draw his frontal lobe's attention to his subconscious. It's a heavy lift. Finally he stands and heads slowly to her bedroom. Atta'boy!
He gets the pills again and lies on the bed amidst her lingering fragrance. His eyes rest on the Daddy-Daughter portrait as he absently runs his finger round the circle of pill blisters. They're ike an arc of clits. He's wallowing in a mix of love, horniness, introspection and confusion.
Come on, you can do it, buddy! Think!
She's at risk of getting pregnant, and yes... she's going to the mall, and yes... you have personal experience of what can happen at the mall... hell, you've even committed an indiscretion or three yourself there... and she's dressed in her 'fuck me' sundress... so what's next... do you want to hold your claim on her... yes you do... do you want to do something about it... yes you do... do you want to protect your breeding rights... yes you do!
His emotional jigsaw finally clicks together in his straining brain and he sees the big picture. I've done my job, and now he can stop wallowing and begin to think logically again. His noggin is good at this linear thinking business, much better than I am. He's already formed a plan.
***
We change into the clothes he wears when he goes out to be 'just an old guy wandering the mall unseen'—baggy ill-fitting jeans, a too large hoody, dirty sneakers, sunglasses, cap. We drive to the mall and find a bench behind the plants near the food court.
We wait, enjoying the view of young women cruising the aisles. Actually he looks and I use our nose. I can usually smell the ones on the prowl before he spots them, the ones who wouldn't resist if John approached them with authority and control. It's amazing how an air of worldly certainty can hypnotize a young bit of innocent tail. We've often given an unsuspecting