Chapter 7

You’d think that the mood would have been serious. I mean serious things had happened. There was every indication that serious things would continue to happen.

Not so much.

That night, at supper, Riley looked at her mother and said, “Hey, can I borrow the car tonight?”

“Where are you going?” asked Amanda.

“Not that car,” said Riley. “The car.”

“Oh,” said Amanda. She glanced at me, but not as if she was looking for input.

“Just make sure the tank is full when you bring it back.”

“Okay.”

That was it. My fate had just been negotiated. I had been consigned, like a piece of furniture. I suddenly knew what women kept nattering on about in terms of being objectified.

So I felt bad, right? I mean women keep talking about how bad it is to be objectified, traded, treated like chattel.

Why, then, did I get an erection?

Because I’m a man. And men think about that stuff differently than women do. The kind of objectification we get upset about is when our boss treats us like property at work.

Hmmm. Maybe that’s how men learned to objectify women. It’s all the boss’s fault.

Yeah, I know, that’s a load of crap. Sorry. I’m just in such a good mood!

And that good mood is because of remembering the mood I was in that night, as I got up from the table and went to take a shower and shave and put on aftershave. I spruced up, like I was going on a fricking date or something.

Riley, meanwhile, disappeared into her room and closed the door. When I came out of our bedroom in my robe, Amanda was curled up at one end of the couch, reading a book. When she looked up at me, she wrinkled her nose.

“I can smell you clear over here. Aren’t you laying it on a little thick?”

“I just used a splash,” I said, wounded.

“Well, next time, just open the bottle and walk by it.”

“I thought you liked this scent.”

“I do, when I’m going to get to jump the bones of the guy wearing it.”

I went to sit down beside her.

“You know I love you more than life itself,” I said.

She nodded. Her face was solemn.

“Say the word and I’ll spank her and put her to bed,” I said.

“That’s what she wants, you goof.”

“Not that way,” I said. “I meant the normal send to bed thing.”

“She’d enjoy the spanking,” said Amanda. “I know I would.”

“What?” I was shocked. “I never knew you were into that kind of thing.”

“I never mentioned it. I thought it was too kinky, and that you’d get weirded out. Considering recent events ... it’s not too kinky.”

“Want me to spank you right now?”

“No,” she sighed. “I promised you to Riley, tonight.”

“Ahhh,” I said. “But I am an autonomous car. I can go where I want without a driver.”

“She’d be angry if I poached,” said Amanda.

“Honey, I’m yours. She’s the one who’s poaching.”

“You’re sweet, but for this to work, we have to honor some boundaries.”

I leaned back.

“You’re talking about honoring boundaries, and yet you’re giving me to our daughter for the night?”

“I don’t want you all night,” said Riley, from behind me. I jumped. “I just want you to tuck me in.”

“That’s it?” asked Amanda.

“It could take a while,” said Riley. “I’m not going to let him leave until I’m completely comfortable.”

“Do you need to get started early?” asked Amanda. “Like now?”

Riley frowned.

“It’s only six-thirty, Mom.” She sniffed. “What’s that smell?”

“That is your father, trying to make you all gaga for him,” said my wife. “It says aftershave on the bottle, but I think it’s just a way to get rid of industrial waste.”

“I thought you liked it!” I yelped.

“Maybe it’s just past it’s use-by date,” she said. “And maybe you aren’t supposed to bathe in it.”

I stomped to the bathroom and washed my face. Then I used a washcloth to wipe down all the other places I’d splashed, like under my arms, and my groin and my stomach.

If they didn’t appreciate my efforts, they could just smell my BO!

Yeah, I know. I had just taken a shower. But I was miffed enough to try to excrete some BO.

Nobody said anything when I returned to the living room smelling less like a French bordello. They were sifting through the offerings on Netflix, looking for a movie to watch. They chose Miss Congeniality, starring Sandra Bullock. They did everything possible to mute her sexuality in the beginning, including using the name “Gracie” for her. Not a sexy name, in my book. It didn’t matter. With a bundle of pulchritude sitting on either side of me, I was erect long before Gracie put on sexy attire. And, to be honest, Sandra Bullock doesn’t need much to be sexy.

It wouldn’t have mattered if the lead role had been played by RuPaul, though. I had hands on my thighs for most of the movie and once in a while those hands wandered into my lap. I was wearing the robe, though, which was stretched across my lap and made it hard to find anything to play with. Well, until my cock made a small tent there. Then their fingers would drift across that bump. They never looked at me or talked about it.

They just teased me.

“Bed time,” announced Amanda, when the movie was over.

Riley didn’t argue, even though it was still early. She just stood up and pulled me to her bedroom by my hand.

Once there, she said nothing and left me to my own devices, standing five feet inside her doorway. She hummed softly as she went about getting ready for bed. I watched as she took her clothes off and deposited them in the hamper. She wasn’t wearing a bra and walked around in only panties, getting the next day’s clothes laid out. She went in the bathroom and closed the door. When she came out, her panties were dangling from the fingers of one hand. She held them over the open hamper and let them drop, like an autumn leaf. I think I sighed.

She looked at me for the first time and crossed her arms under her breasts, like she was cold.

I realized she was nervous! It was astonishing. She acted all cool and collected, but she was still a teenager, and all this was still new to her.

I walked towards her, with images in my mind of hugging her and telling her it was okay, being the soothing parent. As odd as it sounds, sex wasn’t the primary thing in my mind just then. But she held out a hand to stop me at arm’s length.

Her hands came to the tie of my robe and tugged it loose. She spread my robe apart, exposing my erection.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” she said ... apparently addressing my penis.

She knelt and before I got a full breath, she leaned forward and sucked my dick like she really meant it.

She did mean it. She didn’t just suck it. She made love to it. It sounded like she’d been served a gourmet meal and was expressing her approval.

I stood there, weaving a bit, and just tried to breathe.

Then she was standing again and my penis felt cold and abandoned. Her hands came to push the robe off my shoulders, and that turned into an embrace, that turned into a kiss. She rubbed her breasts against my chest. She wasn’t cold. Far from it. It felt like I was standing dangerously close to a wood stove.

She let me go and went to her bed. She didn’t rush. She turned down the covers and lay down with her head raised on two pillows. She drew up her knees and let them fall apart while her right index finger slid to diddle her clit.

“I don’t want my vibrator tonight,” she said.

Everything had been pretty well-ordered thus far. She had been in control and things had proceeded at her pace. But every man has a breaking point, at which time the cave man in him surfaces to grimace and growl. If he’s the alpha male, he also capers and beats his chest and takes his woman.

I capered over to the bed while I grimaced. I left out the chest beating and literally jumped on the bed between her thighs.

“Put me in you,” I growled.

She was startled, but maybe her cave woman genes were working too, because her hand came to guide me. Thank goodness she was more excited than she allowed to show, because I rammed into her and started making the bed bounce immediately.

“Daddy!” she squealed.

I just fucked her faster and let my weight down on her so she couldn’t wiggle away.

“I’ve wanted to do this to you since you were twelve,” I gasped into her hair-covered ear.

“Daddy!” she gasped.

“You shouldn’t have let me do this,” I panted, still in rabbit mode. “I’ll never stop. Not even after you’re married.”

“Ohhh Daddy,” she whined.

“You’re mine, and you’ll always be mine.”

“Okay,” she huffed. I’m pretty sure at that point she’d have said anything to mollify me. I was really pounding her.

“This is my pussy,” I growled.

Suddenly the world went crazy and tilted. It wasn’t until my shoulder hit the mattress next to her that I realized I’d been thrown off.

“Get off of her!” yelled Amanda. I looked to see her enraged face. Riley was still lying beside me, between Amanda and me. I realized Amanda had pushed me off of her. “You beast!” added my wife, to clarify things. “You were scaring her!”

“I’m okay!” yipped Riley.

Amanda suddenly went to the wall for some reason and inspected it.

“You dented the fucking wall, Bob!” she yelled. “You dented the fucking wall with the headboard!” She sputtered.

“I’m okay, Mom!” insisted Riley.

“I heard you clear in the living room!” moaned my wife.

“He was just excited,” said Riley, defending me, after I’d basically mauled her like a bear.

“That’s no excuse,” said Amanda.

“He’ll be fine,” said my daughter. “You can go now. Thank you for being worried.”

Even I could tell that Riley was defending her turf. It might have been hilarious if two of us weren’t naked ... and related by blood.

“He should not treat you that way!” insisted Amanda. “No woman should be treated that way!”

“He feels bad,” insisted Riley. “Look! He even went soft! He must feel terrible!”

It was true. My penis was as soft as butter outside at noon on the 4th of July.

Amanda blinked.

“Did you cum?” she asked.

“No,” I panted.

“Why not?” asked my daughter’s defender.

“Why not?” I asked, incredulous, my voice rising a whole octave.

“Oh,” said Amanda. “Well? It sounded like you were tearing down the house!”

“I’m fine,” said Riley. “He’s fine. You don’t have to go. If you want to, you can stay here and make sure he’s a good boy from now on. Is that what you want?”

It was one thing to let Riley watch her parents make love. Amanda could deal with her daughter watching her get fucked. Watching Riley get fucked was another thing. At least at that point.

“No. Maybe he should just come to bed with me,” suggested Amanda.

“He’ll be there in a little bit,” said Riley. “I promise.”

Reluctantly, Amanda backed toward the door, which was still open after she rushed through it to save her daughter. She left it open, whether as a sign to me that she was going to monitor my behavior, or not. I don’t know which. Maybe she couldn’t watch ... but wanted to listen.

I did feel pretty bad. It was a rotten way to treat a fragile teenage girl who was still in the initial stages of exploration into the mysteries of sex.

“You need to get hard again,” said my fragile daughter. “I want some more of that.” She frowned. “Except not quite so hard.”

Turns out Riley likes to be dominated ... a little bit.

Like mother ... like daughter.

Riley did not get her wish. Not that night. She did want “some more of that” but I couldn’t go there again. Not that night. Instead, I tried to make up for my bad behavior. My initial goal was to produce, in my tender, vulnerable, fragile little girl, three distinct orgasms, by whatever means.

I started by going down on her, which she let me do and enjoyed - for one orgasm. Then she pulled my hair and said that she wanted something long and hard inside her.

I complied, and went to work on her using all the tricks and techniques I’d learned since my own sexual awakening. Primary among them was Amanda’s personal favorite. That’s where I went in deep and stayed there, making my loins go in little circles. That did a number of things. First, it put the tip of my penis against her cervix in a way that bumped it repeatedly, kind of like a rough massage. It also crushed her clit. But the circular motion also made my penis move in her a couple of inches. My weight wasn’t fully on her, but I sagged with my hips weighing her down. So the stimulation to the clit and cervix were intermittent - at the “top” of each circular movement, while her entire sheath was massaged by my penis as it moved.

Basically, it simulated what a lot of women do with a dildo. It’s easy for the guy to do, because it takes almost no energy. It feels good, but isn’t too stimulating, in terms of making him spurt. I’ve been told that a woman, using a dildo or vibrator, can take ten minutes to ease up on her climax, taking her time and enjoying the anticipation of finally cumming.

I was able to do that and she whined her way through orgasm number two. I rolled us over and let her work on number three at her own pace, while I played with her glorious breasts and nipples. While she did that, I decided maybe four orgasms would be good for her.