Dancing for Daddy
Copyright© 2020 by Lubrican
Chapter 13
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 13 - When Bob's wife divorced him, while he was deployed in the Middle East, there was nothing he could do about it. She took his daughter with her and even changed their names. Her intent was that he never find them again. But he did find her again. He found her in a strip joint. And she wasn't a waitress.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Consensual Reluctant Fiction Incest Father Daughter Interracial Black Male White Female Exhibitionism First Lactation Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Safe Sex
She’d given Maeve her left breast, and that one produced very little milk in Bob’s sucking mouth. When he changed to the right one, he got a warm stream of sweet fluid. Chastity moaned and marveled at how different it felt for Bob to suck, compared to how both babies had. By the time her right breast was empty, her pussy was flooded with a different kind of fluid.
She moaned again as he slid into her and mashed his pubes against her clit.
“I love you so much,” she whined.
“I love you, too, Baby,” he grunted, starting to roll his hips.
“Let’s make another baby,” she panted.
“I thought you said two was enough.”
“It is, but right now I want you to knock me up.”
“But you have an IUD, now,” he said.
“Would you shut up and get me pregnant?” she barked.
He got it, then. She was role playing.
“I’m not going to just get you pregnant,” he growled. “I’m going to shoot twins in you!”
“Twins!“ she yipped, wrapping her legs around him. “You can’t make twins in me. I’m a virgin. My daddy will kill me if I get pregnant.”
“Then we’ll run away together and pretend to be married.”
“I can’t run away now. I’m in law school! Ohhh, I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum on your big, baby-making penis!”
“Do it. Get your womb ready, because in a minute I’m going to pack it full of my seed.”
“Ohhhhh, Daddy’s going to kill me.”
“No he’s not,” said Bob. “Daddy’s going to love you forever.”
He pushed in and stopped, as muscles in his groin flexed and loosened. His semen rushed through his penis and into his lover.
“There it is,” he whispered. “A baby for my baby.”
Chastity’s first classes in her Juris Doctor program were about to start. She wanted to push her mother aside and concentrate on school, but she knew she couldn’t. If Trudy was serious about changing her status, then Chastity had to participate in that, if only to try to make sure that change actually happened. With great trepidation, she decided to let her mother back into her life.
She sat down to write a list of rules that Trudy had to agree to follow. She sat there, staring at the paper. Most of what she was thinking about couldn’t be reduced to a few words on the pad.
Maeve was still young enough that words or actions, short of physical abuse, really couldn’t affect her. Brendan, however, was talking, and understood a lot. More than once, when Chastity or Bob told the other they were going to put Brendan to bed, he stopped doing whatever he was doing and ran away. He hated to go to bed, even though he was usually dead to the world ten minutes after he got there. It was obvious, though, that he could understand a lot more than he could talk about, even when they started talking in “code”. Chastity didn’t want her mother filling his little head with negative things. She thought about writing “No negative talk” but that seemed pointless. “Negative” was relative, and invited arguments. Arguments were often negative. It was a vicious circle.
After ten minutes, she gave up. She’d just tell her mother that she was the boss in this house, and that visiting there meant obeying whatever Chastity told her to do.
An hour later, Chastity walked into the shelter. Her mother was napping on a cot that was in a room with twelve other cots. She touched her shoulder and Trudy sat up, obviously startled and wary. Then she saw who was there, and relaxed.
“If you visit, you have to obey the queen of the house. That’s me,” said Chastity.
“Yes!” gasped Trudy. “I promise.”
“Whatever I say,” said Chastity.
“Yes. I’ll do anything you tell me.”
“And if you don’t obey me, then I’ll use the court order to make you leave.”
“I understand. I promise I’ll do what you tell me to.”
“Okay. Get your things. Tell them you won’t be here tonight.”
“Just tonight?”
“Tell them you don’t know if you’ll be back or not. No. Wait. I’ll talk to them myself, while you get ready.”
Trudy scrambled. Chastity went to the office, where she found a portly man staring at a laptop computer. He was playing a game, but stopped when she came in.
“You know Trudy?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“She’s actually my mother, but she abandoned me when I was in my teens. Things are not settled between us, but I don’t want her sleeping on the street somewhere. So we’re going to try letting her stay with us for a few nights. I don’t know if it will work out or not, so she might show up here again. We’re trying to get her on her feet, but I won’t have her messing up my life again.”
“That’s more than most of them get,” said the man. “Thanks for giving her a chance. She hasn’t caused any trouble, here. She tells some pretty horrific stories, though.”
“Most of those are probably true,” said Chastity. “She’s been through a lot.”
“They all have,” said the man. “Thanks for checking in with me.”
“Any time,” said Chastity. She turned to find her mother waiting, backpack in hand.
Thirty minutes later Trudy walked into her ex-husband’s house for the second time since she fled Africa.
“You don’t have to change anything for me,” said Trudy. “I mean, you don’t have to stop sleeping together.”
“Gee ... thanks, Mom,” said Chastity.
“I mean it won’t bother me.”
“Again, thanks,” said Chastity. Actually, she felt relieved. She and Bob hadn’t had a chance to discuss what changes might be ... advisable ... if Trudy stayed with them. They had cleared out the spare bedroom, but that was all.
There was an awkward silence as two virtual strangers tried to enter into a social relationship. It would have been easier if they had been strangers. There wouldn’t have been any baggage lugging them down.
“I’m going to fix something to eat,” said Chastity. “You can get settled in.”
Trudy tossed her backpack on the bed. It was all she had.
“Would it be okay if I helped?” she asked. “I’ve missed a real kitchen, and real cooking. They don’t let us go in the kitchen at the shelter. They said it violates code rules.”
“Sure,” said Chastity.
The uncomfortable silence persisted, but in one sense, it turned into peaceful coexistence of a sort. They weren’t fighting, at least. Chastity had gotten out a box of Hamburger Helper, but then set it on the counter.
“Remember that casserole you used to make? It had eggs and potatoes and meat in it?”
“The breakfast quiche? I haven’t thought of that in years,” said Trudy.
“I know it isn’t breakfast time, but do you want to make that? I used to love that stuff.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Why is that so surprising? You were a pretty good cook before...” Chastity bit off the rest. There didn’t need to be talk about divorce and abandonment. That wouldn’t be productive.
“Well thank you. And you don’t need to tiptoe around. I know I screwed up. I figured that out pretty quickly, actually, but I was too stubborn and proud to admit it.”
“Why talk about unhappy things?” Chastity replied. “I’d rather talk about breakfast quiche. You can teach me how to make it.”
Tears filled Trudy’s eyes, but she wiped them away, nervously.
“I’d be happy to,” she said.
Bob opened the door to a delicious smell he couldn’t identify. He knew Trudy would be there, and expected her to be on the couch or in a chair, or maybe even sleeping. He knew she was worn out and overstressed, in general. What he didn’t expect was to find her in the kitchen, wearing one of her old aprons. He remembered finding that apron on the floor of the kitchen in his old house, after Trudy left him. She was chattering with Chastity like they were old friends. Chastity was wearing another of Trudy’s old aprons. She was bent over, peeking into the partially open oven door. Her butt, confined in tight jeans, had the usual effect on him.
“Hi,” he said, announcing himself.
Trudy jerked, but then relaxed. Chastity looked over her shoulder.
“We’re making breakfast quiche. Remember that?”
“I do,” he said. “I loved that stuff.”
Trudy giggled. It was so uncharacteristic of the woman he remembered that it shocked him. Trudy didn’t giggle. She didn’t even smile.
“That’s exactly what Chastity said,” Trudy explained.
Bob was still off balance, and just stood there.
“She said, ‘I used to love that stuff,’” said Trudy. “And now you used the same words.”
“Oh,” said Bob.
“I guess you had to be there,” said Trudy.
“We put black olives in it,” said Chastity. “That was my idea. I think it’s going to be yummy.”
“So this is for tomorrow morning?”
“If there’s any left,” said Chastity. “I felt like making it, so we did. People eat at IHOP at other times than breakfast, you know.”
“I do,” said Bob. This atmosphere was not what he’d expected. It was better, he realized, with some chagrin. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He decided to just roll with it and hope for as good as it could be. He knew it wouldn’t be “the best” but maybe it could at least be civil.
“Mom’s been telling me a little about what Africa is like,” said Chastity. “You don’t have to worry about me going there.”
She stopped. It had just been an offhand comment, the kind intended to be witty and a little sarcastic. It would have been, had there not been the history they’d all been embroiled in.
To read this story you need a
Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In
or Register (Why register?)
$4.50
