Chapter 8: Developing Relationships

Gemma was unusually quiet on the way home.

"What's up, sport?"

"Hmm? Oh, I was just thinking..."

"I thought I heard a funny noise."

"Ha, ha, Dad. You're a laugh a minute."

"Sorry. What were you thinking about?"

"About David and Kiri. I liked them."

"That's good. I liked them, too."

She grinned. "You certainly liked Kiri."

"Erhm, yes," I blushed. I certainly did like Kiri and it was going to take some time to sort out my feelings about her.

We were late getting home and I was more than a little relieved that Marion had gone to bed early. My dreams that night were disturbing and erotic. At one point I had a collection of Gemma's and Connie's friends lined up against a wall with their bottoms thrust out. I stood behind them flicking their bare backsides with a long whip, the sort you see animal trainers with in a circus, while Marion pressed herself against my back masturbating me with one hand and screaming imprecations in my ear. The scene changed, the way they do in dreams, and I was sitting with Kiri impaled on my lap. Marion, Gemma and Connie were kneeling on the floor, their bottoms in the air and their heads twisted to stare at me with mingled looks of hatred and lust. My boss, or was it my father, I couldn't be certain, walked up and down behind them whacking their bottoms with a huge paddle. He was stark naked and sported the largest erection I had ever seen. "Choices," he was saying. "Life's full of choices. Which are you going to choose?" Kiri seemed oblivious to all this. She rested her weight on my knees and raised and lowered herself upon my erection with mechanical abandon. I awoke, sweating and panting, my heart pounding and my mouth dry.

I was moody and fretful all week. Try as I might, I couldn't sort out my feelings for Kiri. I was ambivalent about David and Gemma, too. Margo and Kieran hadn't bothered me. It was two adults and two teenagers and that was okay. But the age gap disturbed me. A teenage girl with a man old enough to be her father was too close to incest to be comfortable. I tried imagining it the other way round - a teenage boy with a woman old enough to be his mother. For some reason that didn't bother me at all. Perhaps it would be different if I had a son. Whatever, if I had feelings for Kiri, honesty compelled me to accept that David could have feelings for Gemma. I liked the guy and, if she was going to have sex with somebody older, it might as well be him as anybody. Was it the particular age gap that bothered me? I tried to picture Gemma with men I knew of various ages. It was a fruitless exercise and eventually I gave up. No doubt it would all sort itself out in the end.

They were waiting for us when we arrived on Thursday and greeted us with happy smiles and hugs. David seemed much more relaxed and cheerful. He said that he and Kiri and Kiri's mother, Janice, had had several heart-to-heart talks and had cleared the air.

I laughed, remembering my conversations with Gemma. "It's a hard lesson to learn," I said. "But you can't hide anything in this situation."

Gemma seemed particularly interested in Janice and wanted to know what she thought about the club and her husband and daughter going without her. Janice, as I had suspected, had been as worried about Kiri's behaviour as David and had fully supported the idea of joining in the first place. She was less naïve than the rest of her family about the sexual side of spanking and Kiri's desire to continue coming along came as no surprise to her. She had once had a boyfriend who introduced her to spanking as foreplay and had quite enjoyed it. I sensed there was more to this than David was letting on but kept my counsel. Blushing, David admitted that they had indulged in a spanking session earlier in the week.

"Did she enjoy it? Did you enjoy it?" Gemma wanted to know.

Kiri gave a filthy laugh. "If the noises coming from the bedroom meant anything, I think they did."

"Girls who are rude about their parent's private affairs often get spanked," I said with a grin.

"Ooh, yes please," she said with wide-eyed innocence. "Would you really, Uncle Gerry?"

"The only person crying 'uncle' round here will be you."

She licked her lips in an exaggerated manner. "Yummy. Is that a promise."

"Kiri, you're incorrigible," I laughed.

"Don't you mean insatiable?" Gemma asked.

"I think that's you, dear."

"I'm not insatiable," she pouted. "I'm just hard to please."

"And I'm just hard," David said, joining in the repartee.

"Well, you certainly spank me hard enough," Kiri complained.

"Not hard enough, obviously. You're still far too sassy."

It was not the most original banter but the fact that we could engage in this sort of verbal cut-and-thrust showed how far we'd come in such a short time. By mutual consent, we booked a rather neutral room and stripped off our clothes. Then, with Kiri perched on my knee and Gemma on David's, we talked. It seemed the natural thing to do and, surprisingly, none of us seemed the least embarrassed. I don't even remember what we talked about but I do remember, at one point, wishing that Marion could be here to share the growing closeness between our two families.

The talking eventually wound down and we indulged in some heavy petting. Kiri and I exchanged deep kisses and, while I played with her breasts, she stroked my erection. Her breasts really were amazing. Gemma's breasts were round, smaller versions of here mother's, but Kiri's were like elastic cones attached to her chest. The dusky pink areolae stood out independently, one hill perched on top of another. Her nipples were broad and ill-defined but the whole area was sensitive and she sighed appreciatively as I explored their contours.

Gemma whispered something in David's ear. They stood and he led her to the bed almost shyly, as if she was his first lover. Kiri and I exchanged glances then followed them. Starting at her neck I began to lick, kiss and nibble my way down her body. I spent a long time at her breasts, beginning at the outer edges and slowly working my way up to the twin peaks. When I finally took the pink cones into my mouth, sucking them in as deep as I could, her hands clasped my head and she arched her back, murmuring small endearments.

Slowly I moved down her body, paying homage to her navel on the way. This was another sensitive spot and I could feel her stomach muscles ripple under my lips. I reached the top of her neatly trimmed bush and stopped. She had expected me to continue down, wanted me to, but instead I pushed her legs apart and started kissing up the inside of her thighs. Her skin was velvet soft but the muscles beneath felt firm. There was very little excess fat on her. As I reached the top of one thigh, she spread herself wider, an obvious invitation to carry on. Instead I started on the other leg and worked my way up with the same slow deliberation.

By the time I'd reached the top of that leg, she was audibly panting. Her hips were giving little involuntary jerks. The exotic flower of her inner labia was in full bloom, it's petals spread wide and full to the brim of intoxicating nectar. In short, she was dripping. The aroma was a heady mixture of youth and musk, sweet and tart and hot and light all at the same time. She thrust her pelvis up at me revealing more of the sopping pink interior.

I took a long, slow lick from the bottom of her open slit to the top. She tasted exactly as she smelt and it burst upon my tongue like fireworks. Her moan was of need and pleasure. I toyed with her, licking round and over and between her labia, lapping up her juices as they oozed from her wet vagina. By the wriggling of her hips and the hands clutching ineffectually at my hair I knew she wanted more and faster but, equally, she was enjoying the teasing as much as I. I poked my tongue inside her, waggling it around, then I sought her clitoris. That did it for her. As my tongue flicked over the rubbery flesh, she shuddered. A flood of slightly sweeter fluid met my tongue and I could feel her vaginal muscles contracting spasmodically.

She relaxed with a long sigh and I started again. Keeping my tongue flicking across her clit, I slid two fingers into her vagina and began to masturbate her. I heard her gasp and felt her squirm with pleasure. It wasn't long before I sensed she was approaching another climax. I took her clitoris gently between my teeth and worried it, flicking my tongue over the tip as I did. She came again, more violently and more vocally than before. I was forced to release her clit for fear of hurting her. Then her hands were at my head urging me up.

"That was something else," she murmured, her eyes shining. Seeming not to care that my face was covered in her juices, she gave me a deep, passionate kiss.

"I want to do the same to you," she said when we parted.

"Next time," I replied.

"You'll enjoy it. I'm told I'm very good."

"I enjoy anything with you. All of you is very good."

"Wicked man," she murmured and kissed me again.

I slipped into her, embedding myself fully in one smooth stroke.

"I want you to cum," she husked. "Don't think about me. I want to watch you. I love watching a man's face as he cums."

I was grateful for that as I didn't think I could last long. I started to move, driving into her in long strokes. She put her hands under my hips to keep me from lying on her and moved beneath me, twisting and turning this way and that so that her vagina squeezed and pressed my cock in all sorts of unexpectedly pleasurable ways. All the time she kept her eyes glued on my face. I was right. I didn't last long. Before I knew it I was driving into her in short, fast jabs as my cum rose. Then, with an ecstatic groan, I emptied my balls deep in her vagina.

"You're beautiful when you cum," she whispered as I collapsed on top of her.

=+=+=+=+=

Time passed in a bit of a daze. I was infatuated with Kiri. She was a fantasy girl; young, sexy, willing and uninhibited - and she was mine. The adolescent in me wanted to drop everything and take her away somewhere exotic and make love to her over and over again. The adult me, however, realised that this really was just an adolescent fantasy; that I had a wife and children to look after whom a loved very much. Still, it was hard keeping a sense of proportion as images of her kept appearing, often at the most inappropriate times. I would find myself drifting off into a reverie while sitting at my desk and realise, with a start, that quarter of an hour had passed. I had to concentrate very hard to keep my mind on my work and other responsibilities.

Each time we met, I found myself being drawn to her more and more. I knew I shouldn't. She was only seventeen, after all, while I was more than twice that. The irony of being old enough to be her father was not lost on me. I knew, in the end, it would probably end painfully with both of us being hurt but she shone with such a bright flame that this dowdy old moth found irresistible even though he knew he would get burnt.

Gemma and David seemed to be developing a similar intimacy. I was still slightly ambivalent about the man. He always seemed to holding something back when we were together. However, he appeared to have overcome his initial reservations and joined in the fun and games enthusiastically enough. He had even started to make suggestions about how the evenings should progress. He was a very intense man who took things very seriously. He had this habit of pushing his glasses up with one forefinger when he was being especially serious which Gemma found endearing. I put my reservations down to the fact that he was a naturally shy person and, if I was being honest, a slight touch of jealousy on my part that he had stolen Gemma's heart.

Gemma did not share my doubts. With her, he was completely relaxed and she saw nothing in him to worry her. They had long and intimate conversations about which she would tell me nothing. I was a bit miffed at first as one of the greatest joys of our new relationship was the openness and honesty with which we spoke. Gemma told me I was being unreasonable.

"Look, Dad," she said almost crossly, "I have a relationship with you and I don't go around blabbing my mouth off about it to everyone. I have a different relationship with Mum but, equally, I don't tell you all the things she and I talk about. You accept that quite happily. So why can't I have the same sort of relationship with David?"

"You're quite right, dear," I sighed. "I suppose it's the father in me that doesn't want to see you get hurt."

She gave me a hug and a kiss. "And that's why I love you so. You'll always be my dad." She paused and a frown creased her brow. "I know this can't last and I suspect I'm going to get hurt. But," she shrugged," if that's that way it's going to be... I have to live my own life... make my own mistakes."