Chapter 7

7

Wednesday, 15 August 2018

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

Who knew that some problems can be solved simply by standing up for oneself?

While my relationship with my dad still needs a lot of work and a lot more trust to develop on my side, Dad was ... really very Dad-like most of yesterday.

I stayed home until my new bed was delivered. The company’s delivery people, a woman and a man, were pleasant and helpful, leaving the mattress of my old bed but carting away the rest of it. I put one of the sets of sheets on it that we bought yesterday, then threw myself – naked, of course – onto the bed in a big arc, landing on my back. It was crazy: I didn’t bounce! I reveled in the bed, enjoying the expansiveness of it, then began getting turned on.

I thought, “What the Hell,” and christened my new bed with two orgasms, one each caused/enabled by my two guys. I’m so looking forward to having one or both spend the night, particularly now that I’m running the household.

Oh, god! Dad was naked all afternoon and evening yesterday, and so was I. Fuck! I didn’t think it would be possible, but with a bit of repair of our relationship while sitting in the car in the driveway, yesterday, I found myself getting ... a bit hot seeing Dad’s erection bobbing around. What the fuck?! I was not interested in him at all yesterday morning, but with him walking around all naked and erect, but, most importantly, with him opening up to me yesterday afternoon for the first time since I was seven, I couldn’t help it. It ... turned me on seeing him like that. So much so, that I almost changed the rules.

Almost.

Didn’t.

Now, here I am, still naked in my bed, dictating to my laptop with both hands between my legs just ... keeping the fire alight. I suspect I’ll have to delete a lot of gibberish from the text, as I keep interrupting my dictation with low moans.

Thursday, 16 August 2018

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

I almost wore my coochie to a nubbin last night. Yeah, I know, that’s mixing metaphors ... sort of ... and makes no actual sense, but I bet I got my point across. I mean ... Fuck! What am I supposed to do? Dad walks around the house constantly erect, then goes to bed and beats off. How do I know? Well, A: his door is open as I commanded. B: my door is open as I commanded. C: I don’t know if he’s always been like this or some of it is for my benefit, but when he orgasms, I can hear him and... Fuck, hearing that gets me going. Since I was already quite hot because ... yeah, my bedroom door is open and Dad could walk by at nearly any time and see me doing whatever I was doing at the moment. Throw in a ... I can’t believe I’m jettisoning so much anger that I can get so fucking turned on when my dad gets off in his bedroom on the other side of the intervening bathroom. Anyway, I got myself off both times he orgasmed, and threw in a couple just for myself. I’ve said ... written it, before.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

Until this week, I’d never ... and I mean never ever fucking never made myself cum more than twice in a day, much less in the relatively short time between getting in bed for the night and being comatose from four freaking orgasms! And, good ones! Not like, y’know, the types that you want one but you’re just not turned on enough that it’s almost work and isn’t greatly satisfying when it arrives? Yeah, not those. All four of last night’s were crashing-your-system good and coming-to who knows how much later! Only to hear Dad moaning again in his room.

Then, at breakfast this morning, although he was obviously a little embarrassed, he said, “You had a good time last night. You’re ... inspiring.”

Were I as pale as Heather, I’m sure most of my torso would have turned flaming red at his comment. Since we’re both relatively dark-skinned blacks, no one would know that most of my body flushed at his words, although he probably knew it from my embarrassed reaction.

I mentally shook my head hard, raised my face to his, and replied, “Um, Dad, you ... w-were, too.”

When he stared at me just a little bit too long, my dander began rising, but he held up a hand and said, “I know this ... whole situation is somewhat difficult and more than a little embarrassing, but I’ve agreed to you running the house as you wish. I suspect that ... last night will ... That what ... we both did will not be a ... rare occurrence, so we should just ... allow ourselves not to be embarrassed by it. Whether you wanted what you ordered to have a ... sexual component or not, with our doors open and us being naked at all times in the house, it has a de facto sexual component and we’re going to have to accept that.

“Honey, I know that most would revile me for this, and you may not appreciate the words, but you’re a lovely young woman ... with your clothes on. Emma, naked ... you’re simply spectacular, and I cannot keep from responding to your nudity in a sexual manner.”

I gazed into his eyes ... which sidetracked me. I can’t remember the last time I did that, but it would have been before or somewhat shortly after my mother left us. I admit it. I got lost for a bit ... there in his eyes. This would almost be easier if he were still the father with whom I was very, very angry. There’s still some anger in there, but it’s ... freaking fading. Yes, it’s been only two days since my ultimatum, but those two days have been ... so very much better than I could have imagined them being just two days ago.

As he promised, yesterday, he got me an appointment to discuss contraception with a doctor at Planned Parenthood or via that organization. Somehow, they found time to see me tomorrow and that I might be able to get an IUD as soon as Monday. Go, Dad.

I can’t imagine that this is easy for him. Yes, knowing that I’ll be having sex with guys soon must be bad enough for him, but I gotta think it’s even worse for him that he’s setting up my appointments that will enable me to be ... relatively carefree about that upcoming sex with one or two guys. I admit that part of why I wanted him doing that for me was the anger he’d caused in me. Now, I almost wish I could absolve him of those duties, but I’m sure he wouldn’t take that well. I’m fairly sure that he would think I’m trying to distance myself from him, again, when what I find myself amazed by is that, instead, I’m ... enjoying our new relationship. Yes, there’s still anger, but he truly is trying ... and doing well ... to make up for eight years of neglect. At least, trying to make up for eight years of neglect.

Friday, 17 August 2018

There was only one way I could get to my appointment: Kota’s mom drove me. She’s ... wonderful. She’s so friendly with me every time I’m at their house. But, asking for this help almost broke me. Not really, but I almost didn’t manage it, but then the thought of being in bed with both Brett and Seamus got my resolve to mega levels. God, I want them. If it weren’t so obvious that the LA truly enjoys sharing their guys, I probably could not have managed to ask Wynn (I find her full name, Elowynn, elegant, although she’s sorta little and more cute than elegant) to help me. She’s so nice. I seem to recall thinking of my mother as nice, but I don’t actually remember her as anywhere near as nice as Kota’s mom. She didn’t hesitate, but immediately agreed to take me. She said that she could use that opportunity to ask about her own daughter and Kanda.

Sometimes, when I think of Kanda and Kota, I get jealous, ‘cause between the two of them, they have three great parents, and those parents work together to raise those two rambunctious girls. The three even agreed to allow Kota to use Kanda’s address as her official school address so that she could go to Central for high school rather than West. While Haven, Zala, and another girl from the premier team go there, West’s soccer team is nowhere near as good as Central’s, and Kota didn’t want to lose every game to the team that so many of her friends were on, particularly her best friend’s team.

The doctor, who asked me to call her by her first name, Marthya, was really nice and very understanding. She raised an eyebrow at me when I accidentally mentioned “my guys,” as in, plural. I told her that I loved both and that the guys were great friends with each other. I guess I blew her away, somewhat, when I told her that I was looking forward to having both of them with me in bed together.

“My,” she responded. “I guess you really do need an IUD. Do you truly think this could be longterm?”

I told her, “I’m as sure as I can be. They love sharing me.”

Of course, I couldn’t tell her that there were at least 31 other girls who were sharing the guys.

Holy. Fucking. Hell. I decided to figure out that number so I could put it in that sentence. I guess I had not previously thought about how many girls are involved in the LA and The Team, combined. No wonder that, according to Beth, Brett has great sexual stamina. Oh, and I’m not sure I didn’t miss anyone in the LA.

Saturday, 18 August 2018

I was in bed last night with, as has become so common of late, my hands between my legs when I heard Dad moan in his room. I don’t know what made me consider it, much less do it, but I got out of bed and went to his doorway. He noticed me arrive but not before he could take his hand off his throbbing penis.

“Dad, I ... won’t order you to ... do that ... masturbate with me watching. I was ... I got curious, ‘cause I’ve never seen that ... except for online, of course, but that seems so ... artificial. I’m sorry for interrupting.”

I turned to go back to my room when he said, “Don’t go.” When I stopped myself by putting a hand on his door jamb and pulling myself back, he added, “You wanted my door always open. I understand that at least part of your rationale for that was that you were concerned about what I was thinking and pondering doing. Emma, I want you never to feel afraid of me ever again. I’ll do ... or not do ... whatever you want. You’re in charge, here. If you want to watch me ... masturbate, I’ll do it. If you don’t, I’ll never, ever force you. You’re in charge here and, within some reason, your say goes.”

I stared at him for a while, then asked, “You’d really be okay with me watching you ... get off?”

He chuckled a little, then said, “Under some values of ‘okay.’ Honey, you’re the boss. You get to make the rules.”

“No, that’s a ... very personal thing. If I were still in the punishing mindset when I came up with this whole thing, I’d demand that you do that frequently, but to embarrass you, to scare you. I don’t want to do either of those things, anymore.”

“Do you think you’d be turned on by watching me?”

“I’m sure I would.”

“Then that would mean that you would like it. I want to do only things that you like in order to help make up for my behavior. If that’s something you wanted to watch, even if more than just once, I’d be more than willing to do that for you. I’ve already admitted to you that I get excited seeing you naked all the time, and I usually masturbate ... because I’ve gotten turned ... on by seeing your lovely body naked.”

I stared at him for a long while, then asked, “Could you do that in a way that ... you could ... teach me what you’re doing?”

“Are you going to stay there or would you ... want to see that ... close up, so to speak?”

“Here, at least for now.”

I could see it register in him that I suggested that I might want to watch that again, so he nodded, then began to explain. However, I cut him off.

“Dad, maybe, if I want to learn ... more precisely, you can explain more explicitly. Right now, I’d like just to see you do that. I’d like to see you ... orgasm.”

He nodded, then began loving on himself. From what I understand, and take that understanding with more than a few grains of salt, as my only experience with penises shooting is from online porn and, much more reasonably, from the girls’ time with our guys up in Santa Fe. This was ... somewhat intermediate. It didn’t seem as ... contrived as porn but was more contrived than the practice we girls got with our guys’ cocks for real.

I provided no direction, and he seemed to take his time getting to orgasm. It was nerve-wracking having him look at me, stare at my body while he casually pumped his penis with his right hand. I didn’t keep track of time, but it might have been at least ten minutes before he finally went after his orgasm, his hand going up and down on his penis at a higher rate than during the buildup. Since I’d seen both of our guys orgasm in Santa Fe, it didn’t surprise me that a guy’s cum could shoot so high in the air, but I thought older guys couldn’t shoot that high. Wow.