Take Your Daughter to Work Day - Version Alpha
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft, Consensual, Reluctant, Incest, Father, Daughter, First, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Petting,
Desc: Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1 - When Beth took her daughter to work with her at the massage parlor, the only thing Carly was supposed to massage were hands and feet. But things went off track as soon as they got there, and Carly ended up massaging something else. It changed Carly's life. It changed Beth's life. In fact, it changed the lives of the whole family.
Beth Rawlinson hurried into the kitchen, worried that Carly wouldn't be ready. It was 'Take Your Daughter to Work' day and she didn't want to set a bad example for her daughter by being late.
Carly was ready to go, though, dressed and almost finished with her morning cereal.
"Good!" said Beth. "You ready?"
"Stop worrying, Mom," said her daughter. "This is no big deal. We've done this before, you know."
That was true. Carly had gone to work with her mother on this day every year for as long as she could remember. It had been in different places, but they all seemed the same when all was said and done. Carly knew the workings of a massage parlor inside and out, though all she'd been allowed to actually do in the past was help check clients in, and straighten magazines in the waiting room, and take coffee to the massage rooms.
"Well, today I might actually let you help with a massage."
That was pushing things a bit, Beth knew. Carly was a great masseuse. Over the years, her mother had trained her quite well at home. But she wasn't licensed. Still, if all she did was feet or hands, or something like that, nobody would complain. And the clients would love being pampered with extra attention.
"Calm down, Mom," said Carly. "I won't embarrass you."
"I know that," said Beth. "You could never embarrass me."
The girl grinned and then stood.
"You're wearing that?" her mother asked, in a typical unimpressed mother's voice.
"It's in style, and this isn't school," said Carly.
Her mother looked at her askance.
Carly was wearing a crop top shirt with a rainbow on it that went from the tip of one breast to the other. She hoped this shirt would still fit her when her parents allowed her to start dating, because she thought of her breasts as pots of gold at the end of that rainbow. Of course the only experience she had with them being played with was when she did it herself, but that felt great, and everybody said it felt even better when a boy did it.
Below the shirt was a skirt that was short enough that if Carly bent over, an observer would know what color her panties were. Knee socks and white sneakers completed her outfit. Her long, brown hair was arranged in dog ears. In short, she looked like a hentai girl come to life.
Basically, she looked delicious, something her mother wasn't happy with.
"Well, you just got yourself restricted to female patrons. If any male clients see you like that, it could cause problems."
"What kind of problems, Mom?" asked the teenager, innocently. She knew what kind of problems. She'd heard her mother complain to her father one time about men who got erections during a massage.
"Never you mind about that," said her mother, wishing she could tell her daughter to put on jeans and a sweatshirt.
But there was no time to change now. They had to get moving to be on time.
"Don't forget to take something to read," said Beth. "Just in case."
Once at the Oriental Palace Massage Parlor, which was one of about a half dozen on the main drag right outside the Summerall Gate at Fort Henderson, Beth took Carly to the break room. She asked her daughter to get her a cup of coffee while she changed into her uniform. She went to the shelves on one wall and pulled out pants and a top that, once on her body, looked suspiciously like hospital scrubs. That was intentional. After the last of many "raids" by the sheriff's office, Todd Franklin, who owned the Oriental Palace, had gotten new uniforms that couldn't be called "sexy" by any standards. Over the years, he'd had to pay a lot of bribes to stay in business. Now he was trying to arrange things so that he could survive a trip to court if he had to. The uniforms were only part of that. He insisted that his girls provide only massages, and nothing more. At least nothing more here, in the building. Who they dated was their business.
It was an uphill struggle, though. Pretty much everybody who lived in the Army town outside the gates assumed that if the sign said "Massage Parlor" on it, what that meant was "brothel." In the past that had been true, for the most part. He was trying to change that stereotype, but change came slowly. Sometimes it was a pain in the ass for him.
It had also been a pain in the ass for Beth Rawlinson, who was married to a soldier, and who had become a masseuse because there was a massage parlor outside every military base on the planet. That meant she'd have a job whenever they moved ... and they moved a lot.
So she put on the shapeless, baggy uniform, which was a dull gray in color. She could not, however, have her daughter put one on, because that would make her look official, and Carly couldn't be official. She was only there to observe, and see what her mother really did for a living.
The Oriental Palace had been through half a dozen owners in its thirty year history as a massage parlor. At some point, one of those enterprising owners had remodeled, moving walls and creating a line of four rooms on each side of a secret passage. Then he installed two way mirrors into the walls of the rooms, and charged people to stand in the passage and watch the "massages" that took place.
In those days, "Massage Parlor" really did mean "Brothel."
Of course Todd didn't use them for that any more. That was much too risky. And massage these days really was therapeutic, which is why he hired only trained and licensed personnel. But the mentality that you could proposition a masseuse still lingered. Now, if there was a problem client, the masseuse could press a button, and a camera on the other side of that mirror would begin documenting what happened in the room. It had gotten several girls out of trouble when a customer who had been denied what he wanted, tried to get revenge by complaining he'd been solicited.
Because Todd ran a clean operation, Beth intended to make sure just what her daughter would and would not be allowed to do on this particular day. This was the first year Todd had actually embraced the concept of bringing your offspring to work, and she wanted everything to go smoothly.
As it turned out, though, Todd was at a dentist appointment that day, having a tooth removed. And one of the other girls hadn't shown up for work. To make things even worse, it was their new receptionist's first day on the job without Molly, who had been training her, but whose water had broken the night before, and was still in labor.
Which meant things weren't nearly as organized as Beth had planned them to be.
Since Beth needed to hit the ground running, she told her daughter to sit in the break room and read until things settled down.
Half an hour later Beth stopped in the doorway of the break room and motioned Carly to come with her.
Mrs. Jorgenson was her first client of the day. Maxine Jorgenson had, at one time, visited a chiropractor every week, so she could receive an adjustment. Her late husband had been convinced that adjustments were responsible for a long and happy life, and he hadn't minded paying for them. But then he had died of a heart attack at fifty-two. Four years later, when his insurance ran out, and she had to go on Social Security, Maxine decided that anything that had to be "adjusted" over and over was either so broken it needed to come out ... or a scam.
So she tried a massage one week, instead of an adjustment.
And she felt wonderful.
In fact, she found that if she only got a massage once a month, she felt as good as she ever had leaving the chiropractor's office. And a massage cost about a quarter of what an adjustment ran.
Beth had been Mrs. Jorgenson's masseuse for two years. So when the woman came in, Beth introduced her daughter and explained why she was there. Mrs. Jorgenson smiled and said it was fine for the girl to stay. As Carly sat in the corner and watched her mother work on the old woman, she listened to them chatting like old friends. Mrs. Jorgenson did a lot of "ooofing" and grunting as her body was pressed and moved. Carly understood that, because she did that too, when her mother gave her a massage.
Normally, Beth would have had half an hour to rest after giving an hour massage. Because of the missing girl, though, she checked with Jennifer, the new receptionist, who said "There are two men waiting. One of them asked for you. I told him to go to room six, but that he might have to wait. Is that okay?"
Beth looked at the sign-in list and said "That stinker! He didn't tell me he was coming in today!"
She turned to her daughter.
"Your father is in room six. I'm going to take care of this other guy. Go tell your daddy that he can wait until he gets home for a massage."
"Okay," chirped Carly.
She hurried down the hall to the door marked with a big numeral 6 and slipped inside.
Her father was already naked, lying face down on the massage table. His face was deep in the hole designed for that purpose, and his arms were lying along his sides.
"Hi Baby," came the disembodied voice of her father, as Carly stood, looking at his naked form. Her eyes ranged up and down his body curiously. She'd never had the opportunity to just look at a naked man before. Her expectation of smooth, flat skin evaporated like smoke in a breeze, as she looked at the lumps and bumps created by the muscles under his skin. She was surprised how buff her father looked, all in all.
"The rest of the company is down at the motor pool doing a TO&E inspection, but I don't have an assigned vehicle, so the Lieutenant said I could go do whatever I wanted. I thought of you, of course, and ... well ... you know what I want. You always have. I need this bad, Baby, and it's all your fault."
Carly didn't really analyze the possible different interpretations of what he said. All she thought about was that she had practiced massage on her father many times. Not naked ... but many times.
And he said he needed it bad...
She stepped forward and reached for a group of muscles she'd worked on before, but never been able to see under the shirt he'd been wearing.
His groan made her smile. She knew it was the result of a mixture of delight and what her mother called "luscious pain." And it meant she was doing it exactly right.
Beth worked on her next client for half an hour, and then changed the table sheet and washed her hands. She checked with Jennifer, who had another client waiting, but said that the missing girl had called in, saying that she'd had a flat tire on the way to work, and would be late.
Beth stopped by the break room to ask Carly to keep being patient, but found the room empty.
She didn't have time to search for her daughter, and went to start the next massage.
When Carly got to the buttocks that astonished her by being amazingly sculpted, she couldn't resist seeing what they felt like. It was hard to believe this was her own father! Who knew that all that running and working out he was so fanatical about would actually make a man his age look this good?
She dug her fingers into the muscles she found there and got another of those happy groans.
"Oh baby," came his voice. "I am so glad I married you."
Carly was pretty sure her daddy wouldn't be real happy if he found out who was actually groping his ass, so she remained silent. Tom Rawlinson, expecting some kind of response, thought the reason he didn't get one was because his wife had misunderstood him. It would be just like her to think all he was talking about was her expertise as a masseuse. As a man, he just naturally assumed that a woman wanted to be validated as being sexy and attractive.
So he turned over to show her just how sexy and attractive he thought she was. He could tell that his boner was particularly hard today, and was proud to be able to show it to her.
"Massage this, Sweet Cheeks," he said, squinting up into the light, which was very bright after having had his eyes closed for the last ten minutes. "You caused it ... now I need you to help me with it."
It was too bright. He let his forearm fall over his eyes and waited for his wife to take care of what she had caused.
Carly stared at the very first real, live, erect penis she had ever seen. She'd seen lots of pictures of them on the computer, mostly at her friend Janine's house, during sleepovers, when the girls all snuck into the den and accessed web sites they weren't supposed to be able to access.
But this was very different.
It was so pale, for one thing. Her eyes took in the swarthy color of the nut sack that bulged at the base. That looked all wrinkly and the skin looked thick and tough. But the skin on the penis itself looked thin and soft, though it was obviously stretched around something swollen and hard. She looked curiously at the collar of skin at the tip. The tip didn't look like the ones on the internet, but she could tell that's because it was covered up with skin that the ones on the internet didn't have. She'd learned about foreskins in health class, but hadn't ever seen one. The tip was a collar of bunched skin making a little circle over skin that looked hard and shiny and slick. The underneath part had a little slit in it too, like the ones on line. She knew that a thick, milky fluid would come rushing out of that tip when the man ejaculated.
It was so interesting, that she sort of forgot who this particular penis belonged to.
Actually, that's simplifying it to extremes. What was going on in Carly's brain was actually very complicated. Had it been displayed as a colorful pie chart, 80% of the pie would have been yellow, and labeled "curiosity." Then in smaller wedges would have been "scholastically interesting," colored blue, perhaps, and "confirmation of suspected thoughts" in green or some other woodland color. Then there was a slim wedge that was hot pink and represented being turned on at seeing the male sex organ right in front of her. And, right beside that, would have been a comfortable color of some kind, maybe brown, that was her subconscious, telling her that, because of who this penis belonged to ... she was in no danger whatsoever.
Put it all together and her reaction was not what you might have expected it to be. It certainly wasn't what she would have expected it to be. And for now, let's just leave her parents out of it completely.
Except for her father, of course ... we can't leave him out.
The upshot was that curiosity won the day, and she instinctively reached for that penis to explore some things, evaluate some things, and discover some things.
She had seen hands rubbing up and down many a penis on the web. So that's what she did when she reached and gripped this one.
On the discovery and evaluation fronts she learned that that loose collar got very thin and slid backwards quite easily, to uncover what she expected to see. There was a very nice, typically bulbous and purplish head under there.
His groan this time had something extra in it, which her discovery mode perked up at.
Her exploratory portion marveled at the feel of the rigidity underneath the incredibly smooth and soft skin in contact with her hand. It was so smooth that she wished she could rub herself with it. The first thing she thought of, in fact, was cuddling with a kitten and rubbing her cheek on its fur.
Then one of those tiny wedges flared brightly and reminded her "This is your daddy's penis in your hand!"
"Ohhhh fuck that feels so good," groaned said Daddy.
That wedge kept pulsing, like a warning light, but the bright pink wedge swelled, gaining market share, as her evaluation of all this notified her that, regardless of whose penis this was, it felt fantastic to play with, and that she'd probably never get another chance to do so.
So she stroked some more.
Beth finished with her client, glad that it had only been a half hour massage, and for a client she knew well and knew how to please. She cleaned up the room and went looking for Carly. When she couldn't find her again, she checked in with Jennifer again.
"Have you seen my daughter?" she asked.
"Not since you sent her to tell your husband to go back to work," said the new receptionist.
"Where could she have gone?" wondered Beth out loud.
"Well, you have time to go look for her. Julie is here now, and things are suddenly slack."
"Good," said Beth. "I could use a break."
She turned and left the desk. The first thing she did was try the door to room six. It was locked. That was standard practice, so that clients weren't surprised by uninvited guests. She assumed Julie was in there with a client.
But she found three doors locked, which didn't make sense. She and Maude had been there since the shop opened. Now that Julie had arrived, there were three therapists on duty.
But she wasn't working on anyone. So only two doors should be locked!
She went back to Jennifer.
"Who's in room eight?" she asked.
Jennifer looked at her appointment book. "Maud," she said.
"And room three?"
"Julie," said Jennifer immediately.
"Then who is in room six?"
Jennifer looked confused, and then examined her book again.
"Nobody?" She didn't sound too sure of herself. She wasn't at all sure she had the hang of things yet.
Rather than argue, Beth went to room one, which was never used for a massage. That's because it led to the secret hallway between all the other rooms.
Carly's mind was practically overflowing with new information. She was quite delighted, really, because she had learned more in the last ten minutes than she'd learned in the previous fifteen years. About men, anyway. At least as it pertained to their genitalia.
She had learned, for example, that they liked having that tough, thick ball sack played with, while they were getting jacked off. Instinctively she knew to be gentle. She'd seen boys respond to being hit there before. And she'd learned that the faster she rubbed, the better he liked it.
That warning pulse in her brain had continued, like some buzzing mosquito always around her ear, and impossible to wave away. But this was fun! And even if it wasn't exactly "cool" at least it was with a guy who she knew she could trust and wasn't afraid of or nervous about.
She'd been shocked to learn that her daddy knew all sorts of curse words. Cursing was forbidden in the house. Both her parents said it was the sign of ignorance, and an inability to converse effectively in one's native language. But, for all that, her father sure cursed a lot in this situation.
"Fuck that feels good!" had been the first thing out of his mouth that shocked her. Then there had been "Fucking shit I love this," followed by "You make my fucking cock so hard."
But then he'd said something that had really rocked her world.
"Ohhhh suck it Baby. I'm gonna cum. Put your gorgeous lips around it and drink my cum, Baby!"
The complications from before were suddenly crammed together as more were added. What went through her mind at that point bounced around. First, she was fully aware of the concept of cock-sucking. Several of her friends, who were allowed to date, talked about it. Some hated it, and some loved it. Her attitude towards that had always been pinned to the fact that she couldn't understand it at all. Who would actually want something like that in her mouth? And if they did ... why?
But now, she had new information. Having had this penis in her hand for ten minutes, she had arrived at the conclusion that there wasn't anything yucky about it at all. In fact, it was her most favorite new toy to play with!
And quite suddenly, the concept of having that smooth, shiny bulb at the tip in her mouth wasn't so outrageous at all!
In fact ... it might even be as much fun as her pro-suck friends kept insisting it was.
Beth walked carefully between the boxes that Todd had stored in the rarely-used hallway. As she went by room three she saw Julie working on a woman's calves. As she came even with the mirror into room six, she stopped, stunned by what she saw.
That it was her husband on the table was made clear by the tattoo on his left biceps of her name, in which the "B" was made of two hearts, turned sideways and stacked. He'd gotten it one night while he was in Korea on an unaccompanied tour. He'd been drinking, and missed her.
That it was her daughter in the room was equally obvious, since Carly was facing the mirror. What she couldn't understand was what she saw her daughter doing!
Especially since, as Beth rocked to a stop, the girl bent over and took the tip of her father's cock in her mouth! Her cheeks went concave as she obviously sucked hard.
Beth could hear her husband's groan of happiness through the wall!
New sensations overpowered Carly's brain, not the least of them based around the fact that Tom had been primed to the max, and as soon as his dick got sucked, his balls gave up every ounce of cum they had produced in the previous seventy-two hours.
By the time Carly's brain made sense of the stimuli she was being subjected to, her mouth was already full of salty cum. She couldn't help but taste it, whereupon bitter jumped up and waved it's metaphorical arms, yelling "Taste me! Taste me!"
Part of her brain screeched "Yechhhh! Puke now!" But in truth, the muscles that might have been used to follow that command were currently paralyzed. Imagine riding along in a car at sixty, when suddenly a tire blows and the car swerves and starts rolling. It rolls ten or fifteen times before it finally comes to a stop. You aren't injured, but your brain still can't make sense of what just happened, and may not even realize it's been in a rolling car. It takes time to rationalize and interpret the data overload.
Meanwhile, her throat muscles, intent on survival, worked to clear her mouth of the fluid that could choke her.
And that was when Tom uncovered his eyes to thank his wife for sucking him off ... only to find ... it wasn't his wife at all.
Beth's response to all this was not what the casual observer (if there could be such in this situation) might have expected.
That's because Beth, who was thoroughly broken in sexually by her uncle when she was Carly's age, had never told her husband why she was so good at making him deliriously happy in bed. He was a bit of a prude, and she didn't think he'd understand the special relationship she'd had with Uncle Bob.
But she understood how a fifteen-year-old girl can be intensely interested in doing what she had just seen her fifteen-year-old daughter do.
And, apparently, her husband wasn't nearly the prude she thought he was.
She left the window, going back the way she had come.
It was time for a family meeting.