All characters are 18 years old or older and fictional.
***
I'm a very lucky man with a beautiful family. I was a painfully shy college freshman when I met my eternally youthful and beautiful wife, Stacy. She and I met in a class on human sexuality. I was immediately attracted by her long luscious chestnut locks falling just below her shoulders. Her eyes the deepest brown and full of fire. Tall at 5'8, she made me feel large and powerful. Her body is curvaceous. Smart as hell and a lady even with my cock in her mouth.
Our first date had been for coffee. We set in a shadowed corner talking and laughing, close over the table. She stared into my eyes and her hand went under the table. This was new for me, and I was just afraid we would be kicked out and maybe arrested. Her hand tugged at the button and then the zipper on my pants. I was afraid, but too turned on to stop her or my cock from rising to full mast. My hardened cock was in her hand, and she licked her lips gently. She was stroking me gently when her left hand lowered her coffee cup under the table. She laughed a deep, filthy laugh through smiling clenched teeth.
"Are you going to cum Daddy? Cum, for your best girl?" She said.
She made her eyes big and innocent as her hands fluttered up and down my cock. I gasped and whispered.
"Yeah baby girl, Daddy wants to paint you in cum". At that moment my member shook and cum exploded as she pumped me, and continued pumping until I was finished. She made a "shh" sound and laughed putting my cock away and zipping me up.
She lifted the coffee. I could see most of the cum on top of the black coffee with droplets going down the side. She ran a finger up the side of the cup collecting the sperm and pushed it toward my mouth. I had never done anything like that before, but I complied sucking her finger clean. We received a couple of looks but no one had seen our real action. She opened her mouth and drank her coffee straight down, while staring into my eyes.
We were both twenty years old, and we have rarely been apart since then. At forty, she was just as beautiful and sexy as ever. Driving home, thinking about that was still exciting. I pulled into the driveway after a long day at the think tank I work at. Stacy's car in front of me said she was home and the battered Toyota meant that my nineteen year old, only son was home from college.
I hurried into the house excited to see my boy. Zach was naturally more athletic than either his me or his Mom. A soccer player at six feet tall, just two inches shorter than me. He had my height but his Mom's dark hair and eyes. Trim, with a solid six-pack, he regularly walked the neighborhood in shorts and little else.
The three of us had always been close. I had always wanted Zach to feel that he could call me if he were out drunk or had smoked a little pot. Not that I approved but understood, and we would talk it through without judgment or fear. He had always been a good guy.
At Eighteen was when I first noticed a change. He had started wanting to be home and getting very affectionate with his Mom. We worked things out that he was nervous to be away from home, and had stayed close this first year of being away from home.
The process of him opening up to us let us know that he wanted his Mother as much as she wanted him. We told him he could be home anytime he wanted, and we were secretly pleased.
