[This is a work of fiction. The story is an unadulterated and unabashed attempt to tickle male fantasies and perhaps some female fantasies as well. It is a fantasy and as such, the story may or may not conform entirely with reality. But isn't that the whole point of fantasies? With historical exceptions, all other locations, events, and characters are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.]
I do not practice nor do I condone any of the sexual acts about which I write, other than straight, heterosexual relationships. Beside the fact that most other forms of sexual behavior are illegal, I still don't judge consenting adults for their sexual preferences except where such behavior is hurtful/harmful to others, such as pedophilia.
None-the-less, many people have FANTASIES of such taboo laden behavior to achieve sexual gratification or whatever, but have no intentions whatsoever of carrying out such behavior in actual practice. That said, if I have struck a particular fantasy of yours, read and enjoy.
Bruce Jetson ... male lead character, husband of Samantha, fifty-one, stepfather father of Tracy
Samantha (Sam) Hicks ... wife of Bruce, forty, mother of Tracy
Tracy Hicks/Jetson ... female lead, daughter of Sam, adopted by Bruce, eighteen
Dan Windgate ... Supporting male lead character, twenty-one, Freckles' rescuer
The author recommends reading the story, Bruce: The Good Samaritan, before this story but this tale can be read as a stand alone read.
My childhood was a very happy one in a very happy family, although I remember little about it before the age of five and kindergarten. My memories remain sketchy until somewhere along between the fifth and sixth grades. But, as I said, my childhood memories are all very happy ones.
My name's really Tracy but Daddy rarely called me by that name. Mother just followed the practice, unless she was really pissed off with me, then it was Tracy Sue. With my red hair, green eyes, and by the first grade, a healthy case of freckles that ran from my head to the tops of my boobs and down my arms, well, you guessed it. I became Freckle Face or later, just plain Freckles.
At the age of ten, Mother told me their story. That story is told fully in Bruce: The Good Samaritan. Suffice it to say here, that I learned Bruce is my stepfather and that he rescued my mother and me in the middle of a blizzard on the Interstate. I was four months old at the time. Love bloomed and Mother married Bruce.
Bruce was like ten or more years older than Mother, but that wasn't a barrier for either of them. They were very happy and extremely sexual with each other though not necessarily publicly. Early on, I could hear the sounds they made in their bedroom. I was a curious kid and I was a fast learner. I also observed how Mom and Dad acted at home with their mutual goo-goo eyes, their hand holding, their smooching, and their roving hands--gentle touches, mind you--not the gross copping of a blatant feel.
Between health classes at school and my girlfriends, I soon found out much about sex and a quite early age. Of course, eventually I'd have to sort out truth from fiction. By the seventh grade, I also had played "Doctor" with several boys. There was also the day I found the hole in the wall in my closet that looked directly into my parents bedroom. Let me tell you, from the age of eleven through sixteen, I had a front row seat for sex education.
I think it's safe to say, I knew a very great deal about sex at a very early age. The problem was, I was an only child and suffered severely from the Eldest Child Syndrome of wanting to be good and please my parents. That condition placed heavy, self-imposed restriction on putting my sexual knowledge into practice--well, except for what I could do to myself.
My parents were also very "touchy-feely" with me with their mouths and their hands. Don't take that wrong. There were never any "inappropriate" touches; all touching was loving and nurturing, not illicit groping.
During the sixth grade, I discovered boys. However, apart from some mutual exploration of Doctor/Nurse games, I viewed the male species from a distance. No single dates, no group dates, not anything. Those mutual explorations were with the boy next door and a male cousin I didn't get to see very often. Both were my age. I also found that hole in my closet near the middle of the sixth grade.
By my Freshman year, I joined several school clubs and organizations, but I didn't mix with the boys, let alone date them. To that point, I'd had no real urges to express my sexuality.
By my sophomodre year, I'd developed a very delectable female body. My boobs were, ah, shall we just say, greatly lusted after by the male species? My body narrowed down to my waist and then flaired out into womanly hips. All of this was beautifully proportioned over my five foot three frame. The boys were literally drooling over me--until they got nowhere and gave up in despair.
But God almighty, my sexual drive suddenly kicked into high gear. Trouble was, I was still shy and morally restrained from doing anything about it other than what I could do solo at home. I desparately wanted to express my new found sex drive.
My birthday came after the August start up date of school. That's why I was a grade behind those born the same year. I turned sixteen near the end of the first semester of that sophomore year--October 31st, to be exact. Yeah, Halloween.
On May first, I came home from school to find Daddy waiting for me. That was unusual as he normally didn't get home for at least an hour later, sometimes, two hours later. Something else unusual; our minister was with him.
"What's wrong, Daddy? Don't beat around the bushes, Daddy, your home early and with the minister. What happened?"
"Freckles, I'm sorry to say that there's been an accident. A car accident. Mom's in the hospital and in a very bad way. Reverend Goodson and I were waiting for you to take you to see your mother."
"Oh my God, Daddy. Let's get going."
Mommy died an hour after I got to the hospital. Daddy was on one side holding one of her hands and I was on the other side of the bed holding her other hand. She was unconscious and simply quit breathing. She'd been unconscious since they brought her in.
Daddy held it together until we got home, then he just lost it. He fell into a chair at the kitchen table and just sobbed. I stood by his side, holding him, hugging him, kissing him on the top of his head.
We stayed like that for two hours. I only left him to get him water to drink and once to answer the phone after which I left it off the hook. Daddy was a very verile and sexy man for a fifty-one year old. He didn't look that way in his saddened state.
"Dad, you have to get some rest. Let me help you get to bed so you can sleep comfortably."
"Mmm, I guess."
I helped keep him upright and to get the covers turned down without him falling down. Finally, I got him plunked down in a sitting position on the edge of his bed.
"Come on, Dad, hang in there 'til I get you undressed."
I got his shirt and undershirt off. Then I took off his shoes and socks. I pushed him back on the bed to get his trousers off.
"Lift your butt, Dad, so I can pull your pants off."
He managed to do so. That left him wearing only his jockey shorts. I don't know what was going through his numbed brain at that moment, but his penis was tenting his shorts pretty darned well.
"Come on Daddy, lift your legs. Help me here to get you stretched out."
Finally, I got him laid out in the center of that king sized bed and pulled the sheet up to his neck.
"Nite, Daddy. I'll look in on you later."
I started for the bedroom door.
"Freckles, don't go. Stay here with me, please?"
I drug a chair part way to the bed.
"Noooo. Here on the bed. Lay beside me. Hold me some more."
"Alright, Daddy, I will."
I climed in on top of the sheet and lay down beside my father. I lay on my side and cuddled with him, my left arm around his chest and pulled myself against his body.
We both fell asleep. The time was three in the afternoon when we lay down. Day had become night and the bedside clock read eleven-thirty. I discovered something else as well.
During our sleep, I presume, Daddy had turned on his side to face me. His arm was around me and resting on my ass whih was suddenly turning quite warm. The sheet had worked itself down to his knees on his side. Something pressed into my lowere belly like a piece of iron and it could only be Daddy's very erect penis. He was still lightly snoring!
I also suddenly found myself getting quite wet between my legs. My God, my own father was turning me on, big time and he wasn't even awake to know it. The long repressed expression of my sex drive just came "unrepressed."
I raised my butt and managed to work the rest of the sheet down past my knees. That brought a response from Daddy.
His arm tightened on me and brought our bodies tightly together. His erection broke through the fly of his jockeys and his naked helmet pressed into my belly.
'Oh Sam, Oh Sam, hold me tight my love."
My God, Daddy thought I was Mother--his Sam(antha).
I hesitated, but my sex drive overruled me. I reached down with my hand and grasped Daddy's penis, his dick. Oh, My god! It was hard but soft at the same time. It was very warm and it pulsed. His dick was also drooling precum.
.... There is more of this story ...