Chapter 3

Liz had a sister who was the single parent of a sixteen year-old girl. At the beginning of the long summer vacation, Daffy and Sara came to stay. The reason became obvious the moment Sara could be seen from the side. Her belly was markedly swollen: I’d say she was in her fifth month. Her mother was clearly not happy at the prospect of becoming a grandparent at the age of 35.

After a fairly long journey, both women were glad to be able to enjoy having a meal cooked for them. For Liz and Becky, of course, it was normal. Becky placed herself on my left, and Sara did likewise on my right. We were a little crushed together round the small table.

Suddenly Sara clutched my arm.

“Oh! Feel it! Feel the baby moving!” She took my hand and placed it on her swollen belly. I really couldn’t feel anything moving inside, and told her so. Her response was to lift the hem of her T-shirt and place my hand directly on her belly. I still couldn’t feel anything moving, but the silky feel of her slightly stretched skin was very sensuous.

“Ah, yes,” I lied, “I can feel it now.”

She gave me a funny look, removed my hand, and, tilting her head so she was looking at me from under her brows, her lips twisted slightly in a little smirk, which seemed to be saying so you liked what you felt. She moved her left hand onto my thigh and squeezed it gently, before allowing her fingers to explore the lump being made by my cock as it grew.

I quickly checked that neither Liz nor Daffy seemed aware of what was going on, but Becky was staring down at my crotch. Clearly, she was aware.

I had the idea that Daffy and Sara’s presence in the house would dampen Becky’s insatiable desire to get pregnant. The first hint I had that this was not the case came the morning after our visitors arrived.

Liz had to go to work early, and was downstairs fixing breakfast and brewing coffee when I got out of bed and climbed into the shower. The cubicle was a large one, some four feet square, with a seat at the side opposite the jets – it was fitted with six water jets, powered by pumps, aimed at one’s body, plus a shower head for hair-washing. The jets and shower head were independently controllable.

I had stepped inside and begun rubbing down with shower gel when I felt a draught, and turned in time to see Becky, nude, climb in behind me. She held me by the waist as she moved around to face me with her back to the jets, which were turned on.

“Can I help, Dad?” she asked. It was a rhetorical question, as she grabbed the shower gel and began to spread it on my torso and arms before working her way down to where my cock was responding to her nearness and anticipating where she was going next.

Sure enough, she soaped my cock and balls, gently massaging the gel in before letting the jets wash it away.

She smiled at me, still that smirky kind of grin. “Now you’re clean, I need you to clean me out – from the inside.

So saying, she hitched herself up on tiptoes, lifted her left leg and wrapped it round my waist, bringing her pussy almost level with my cock, and finally wrapped both arms round my neck and levered herself up, wriggling until my cock lodged in her notch, when she slowly let herself down and my cock slipped all the way up her velvety cunt.

We found that my bending and straightening my legs allowed my cock to slide smoothly in and out of her baby channel.

“Mmmm, that’s nice,” she moaned softly, as I felt her vaginal muscles begin to cramp round my invading prick. “Keep fucking me, Dad.”

I had no plans to stop until our fuck reached its natural conclusion. Suddenly, I became aware of a shadowy figure outside the shower cubicle. It was Liz, watching us through the steam and water droplets streaming down the walls around us.