Chapter 3

I wish I had a video tape of me eating Riley’s pussy that afternoon. It would have shown her legs waving around in the air like a sailor sending a semaphore message. You could watch it and see her arms waving around, too, reaching to grip the towel and the grass and my hair, at different times. You’d see her hips lurch up off the towel and you’d see her whole body move a foot, an inch at a time, as I pushed my mouth against her sex. I was on my knees, and leaning into her. Eventually, her whole upper torso was off the towel and on the grass.

I probed her opening with my tongue and licked her split over and over. But most of the time I sucked at her clit, pressing it with my stiffened lips, nipping at it.

I was a little amazed that it took as long as it did to get her off. I don’t think she lived in a world yet where she could get off during oral sex. It was too new and too shocking. She was obviously having a great time, though, whining and grunting and moaning and even yelling. But she did that for a good six or seven minutes before she babbled that she was going to cum and then did that. When it happened, her hips bounced up off the ground and then she froze, as a long, “Eeeeeeeeeee” issued between white, clenched teeth.

Her hands finally came to push at my head, rather than pulling, and I backed off. She lay there, half on and half off the towel, splayed open, helpless because she was putting every bit of energy she had into just breathing. I could have fucked her then and there.

But I didn’t. I had to do something, but I knew I couldn’t fuck her.

So I stood on my knees, pushed my baggies down to my thighs ... and jerked off.

When I came, I aimed it right at her pussy. I couldn’t help doing that. She was so wasted that she didn’t even realize I was doing it until she felt my hot cum splatter all over her mons and pussy lips.

Then she lifted her head and stared as I milked my cock.

“No fair!” she gasped, as I pulled my trunks back up. “I didn’t get to see it!”

“You can see it later,” I said. “Right now, you need to get out of the sun and go take a shower.”

“You got your stuff all over me,” she complained.

“It’s better than getting it all in you,” I growled.

She didn’t respond.

Until I rolled her over and slapped one of those perfect ass globes.

That got her moving.

Amanda got home at six. Riley and I had “finished up” around three, so we’d both had time to think about things.

What I’d been thinking about was the almost eager nature of Riley’s exploration. She hadn’t been shy. Nothing had felt awkward. It hadn’t been a father daughter day in the usual sense. She’d said she wanted to spend time with me and we had done that. It just wasn’t what most fathers and daughters do while they spend time together.

It had felt more like old flames, getting back together again, with one of them maybe a little reluctant to start things up again.

Riley hadn’t recoiled from my touch. Not even a little. She hadn’t giggled, or squirmed uncomfortably.

She had sought out intimacy with me.

The authorities would have characterized it as me, seducing her. I’d built the privacy fence. I’d gotten her the bikini. I’d done one better than showing her porn - I’d let her watch me fucking Amanda. Never mind that Amanda was the aggressor in that situation. I’d waited until my wife was gone for the day and then ... BAM! ... I’d struck.

That’s how the prosecutor would have laid it out.

But I hadn’t seduced her. If she had done it with one of her peers, the same authorities would have said it was fine and dandy. That I was an adult was the problem. Not to mention her father.

She didn’t go off to her room and hide the rest of the day. I did hear her shower running and later I saw her fixing a peanut butter sandwich, wearing headphones and dancing with nobody in particular. She had on jeans shorts and a tank top and was barefoot. Our eyes met and she smiled. That part of the day was very domestic and very normal.

That’s what bothered me.

It seemed that, to Riley, this was all very normal.

When Amanda got home I was in the garage, going through boxes, looking for a tool I knew I had, but couldn’t remember where I’d last put it. The garage door opener startled me.

I watched her drive in, turn the car off, let her head fall from side to side, stretching it, and then get out of the car.

Even after a day schmoozing with the high-brows, she looked achingly beautiful.

“How’d it go?” I asked.

“I sold four paintings,” she said, brightly. She came and draped her arms around my neck. “My feet are killing me. How was your day?”

“Interesting,” I said.

“Oh?”

“Let’s go to the bedroom and I’ll tell you about it.”

My wife and I have always been open with each other about things. That includes the fact that I know she notices other men and she knows I take a good look at other women, occasionally. We’ve turned that to our advantage by using it in role play during sex, once in a while. I wasn’t about to hold back on this. First, she needed to know. And second, she’d find out sooner or later anyway. I wasn’t sure how she’d react, but I was convinced she wouldn’t storm out and never return. She might get angry. But she wouldn’t leave.

“Oh my. Did my daughter run around in her new bikini today?”

“In a manner of speaking,” I said.

She pushed her nose into my neck and inhaled.

“Is that sun screen I smell on you? I knew something smelled familiar.”

I hadn’t taken a shower after our afternoon lay-out.

“It is,” I said. “What, exactly did you tell Riley before you left?”

Amanda took off her heels and settled onto stocking-clad feet.

“She was confused. I tried to make her feel more comfortable.”

“Did you tell her I’d answer any question she had?”

“I think I said something to that effect. Why? Did she ask any odd questions?”

“Did you tell her I’d do anything she wanted me to do?”

“What?” My wife suddenly looked more alert. “What did she want you to do?”

“Oh, gee, I don’t know,” I said. “Only just about everything.”

Amanda’s eyes went to the front of my shorts, and then her hand. She pressed and squeezed.

“Oh my,” she said. “I expected you to be excited when I got home.”

“I was excited ... there for a while,” I said.

“What did you do, Bob?” she asked, moving toward me.

“Well, I didn’t fuck her,” I said.

Amanda blinked and looked a little stunned.

“Did she want you to?”

“I didn’t let it get far enough to find out,” I said. “Let’s just say she was eager to try some things.”

“What things?”

“Do you really want to talk about this standing on a cement floor in your stockings?”

“No,” she said.

She turned and headed for the door that led from the garage to the utility room, which would then lead to the kitchen. As soon as she opened the door, the odor of something delicious wafted to our noses. I looked at my watch. I’d been in the garage for over an hour!

Riley was in the kitchen, presiding over a pot of something on the stove. It turned out to be spaghetti, and what smelled so good was garlic bread in the oven.

“Mommy!” yipped our daughter as she saw who was coming through the door.

Amanda was attacked by an obviously happy girl, who, among other things, squealed, “I had so much fun today. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

I realized my wife was getting more kisses from her daughter than I’d given her. Actually, I realized I hadn’t kissed my wife at all, since she got out of the car.

“What did you do that was so much fun?” asked my wife, appearing to be unaware of anything at all.

“Daddy was super nice to me,” she said. Riley looked over her mother’s shoulder at me. “Daddy, you take over the spaghetti. I want to tell Mom all about it.”

“That’s what your father was about to do,” said Amanda, still hugging Riley.

“No. He’ll make it sound all serious and dangerous,” said Riley. “Let me tell you, first.”

“Dangerous?” Amanda pushed Riley back and did the mother, staring-into-her-daughter’s-face-with-a-serious-look, thing.

“People outside our family might call it that, but it’s none of their business,” said Riley, looking a little startled.

“Should I be concerned?” asked Amanda, getting down to the, “Does-somebody-need-to-be-grounded-for-a-couple-of-weeks?” look.

“Nooo,” wailed Riley. It was obvious things weren’t going like she’d imagined them going. She’d offered to share delicious gossip with one of her BFFs, but her BFF wasn’t responding in the right spirit of things. “Please. Come to my room. I want to tell you about it.”

Amanda glanced my way and our eyes met. She had to make a decision. Hear it from me, first, the adult, who would provide unvarnished testimony and factual evidence? Or listen to the dreamy, adolescent, probably half-fantasy version of things first.

Being a woman, she went with the latter.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” she said to me.

Riley pulled her away and I was left to stir pasta in boiling water. The sauce was in a bowl, sitting beside the microwave and meatballs were on a microwaveable plate, next to that.

Again, I was struck by Riley’s decidedly not-a-little-girl attitude about things. I didn’t get the feeling she was going to blame anything on me, because I got the distinct feeling she didn’t think there was any blame to share. She was ... happy ... that what had happened, had happened. She really did have the attitude of an excited female, ready to share intimate details with another female friend.

I was thinking about the fact that our daughter saw us both in dual roles when I realized the spaghetti was stuck to the bottom of the pan. I hadn’t been stirring.

I got that taken care of and went back to thinking about how Riley saw me as both her father and ... a lover of some kind or another. And she thought of her mother as both a parent and a close female friend.

That didn’t usually happen until a young woman had left home and established her own identity as an adult.

Didn’t it?

Riley was an only child, of course. We knew people with children(?) her age, but nobody had ever described their kids acting like Riley was. Maybe it was normal. Maybe it happened to every parent when their offspring reached sixteen or seventeen.

I switched to stirring the sauce.

“I don’t think so,” I said, aloud. I didn’t interact with all that many of Riley’s friends, of either gender, but I got the distinct impression they were kids, not adults just doing their time before they could graduate and move into their own place.

I had no idea how long they were going to be. But spaghetti waits for no man (or woman), so I drained it and rinsed it. I added corn starch to the sauce, to thicken it, and then nuked the meatballs before I added them to the sauce and nuked that, too.

The bread had black edges when I remembered to take it out of the oven, but it was salvageable. Crispy, but salvageable.

I got a can of asparagus from the pantry and warmed that up, and then I went and knocked on Riley’s door. I opened it and stuck my head inside.

Riley was wiping tears from her eyes and sniffling. Amanda was sitting beside her on the bed.

“Supper’s ready,” I said.

“We’ll be right there,” said Amanda.

I closed the door, with no real idea of what was going on.

Both women looked more or less normal when they appeared and sat down. I could tell Riley had been crying, but she had a smile on her face, genuine or not. Amanda looked tired.

Dinner was more quiet than usual. Usually we say something to each other during a meal.

“I’ll do the dishes,” said Riley, finally. “You two can go talk, now.”

Amanda didn’t say anything as I followed her to our bedroom. She remained silent as she removed her dress. She was wearing a lacy, black matching bra and panty set, and thigh-high stockings with a garter belt. With her honey-blond hair loose around her shoulders, she looked like a Victoria’s Secret model.

“So?” I couldn’t stay quiet any longer.

“I need a shower,” she replied.

“Honey?”

“Take one with me?”

That was the first hint of positiveness I’d seen in her since she went off to be regaled by Riley’s wild descriptions.

I got naked as she went through the tired motions of removing her dainties, slowly becoming naked. When she looked at me, I was standing there like a little boy, caught with his first hardon hanging out. She came over to me and reached to grasp it gently.