Part 1

I guess we should start with the biographical details, what Salinger called "that David Copperfield kind of crap". I'm Michael Lewis, a commercial artist here in New York. Fifteen years ago I met and married Becky Armstrong, my high-school sweetheart, and every day since then I've fallen a little bit deeper in love with her. I know it's a little sickening for those of you who aren't as lucky as I am, but Becky is the greatest wife in the world: supportive, loving, intelligent and deliciously sexy with a trim 5'6" body and a pert pair of 34C breasts. As if that weren't enough, my art has paid for a large, upmarket home in a desirable suburb, which I share with Becky and the light of our lives, our fourteen-year-old daughter Lucy.

Me? Well, I'm 6'4", and my mighty schlong reaches to my knees - isn't that what guys who write stories like this are supposed to say? In truth, I'm a half-inch under six feet in height, of medium build (I'm the kind of bulky guy who has to work out three times a week or face the very real threat of turning into Homer Simpson). My penis, since I suppose it's relevant to the proceedings, is a modest, but thick and meaty, eight inches.

Despite our fifteen years of marriage, Becky and I still enjoy a vigorous sex life - in fact, I think we enjoy a vigorous sex life because we've been together so long. In that time, we've developed a bond of trust that extends all the way to the bedroom. Becky has always had a strong kinky streak, a predilection for hot, extreme sex that intensified even further when Lucy was born. Perhaps one day I'll recount the story of how I fucked her on our wedding day, spreading her legs on the back seat of the rented limo that was taking us from the chapel to Becky's parents' house for the reception, or the period shortly after Lucy's birth when Becky's greatest joy was to suck my swollen cock while Lucy suckled at her beautiful breasts.

But all of that stuff is straight vanilla compared to what happened earlier this year. It started on a warm spring afternoon, the first day this year when you could believe that he winter was over and summer was just around the corner. I had gone into my studio early to finish up a batch of concept drawings for a new line of cool, fashionable dolls aimed at pre-teen girls. I put the finishing touches to the last one at around 2pm, FedExed them over the toy company, and decided that I'd had enough for one day. I drove home through the light mid-afternoon traffic with the window rolled down and some Billy Joel on my car's CD player, and pulled into my driveway a half-hour later, in a really good mood.

Imagine my surprise when I opened my front door to find my sexy wife on her knees, completely naked, looking up at me adoringly. "Welcome home, baby!" she sighed happily. "Can I suck your cock?"

I laughed and pulled her to her feet, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her. "What the hell are you doing?" I asked warmly.

"I called the studio to ask you what time you'd be home, but they told me you'd already left. I thought I'd give you a little 'welcome home' treat. You've been working so hard lately..." Her fingers were busily undoing my belt and tugging down my zipper, then she pulled my semi-erect dick free of its confines.

How we made it upstairs to the bedroom I have no idea. I have a vague memory of Becky's hands scratching across my chest as she struggled to remove my shirt, and I definitely recall almost getting my feet tangles in my trousers and plunging down the staircase head-first, but all I can tell you for sure is that we ended up in the bedroom, completely naked, kissing passionately, our hands exploring the others' body. Finally getting me where she wanted me, Becky took a step backward and grinned at me. "Ready for the ride of your life?" she asked with a deliciously wicked smile.

Pushing me back onto the edge of the bed, Becky straddled me and kissed me again. Our position made it impossible for me to slip inside her, but the head of my throbbing cock rested happily against her hot little snatch. Breaking the kiss, Becky cupped her heavy breasts and held them toward my lips. "Do you love them?" she asked coyly as I lashed my tongue around her erect nipples.

"I do," I breathed huskily.

"Do you love them as much as you love Lucy's?" Startled by the question I leaned backward - if my desire had been to gain a certain distance from my sexy wife, it was a mistake. As soon as I moved backward, my cock reared up and Becky hungrily impaled herself on it, my bulbous cock-head slipping easily into her hot, moist pussy. "Mmm," she groaned happily. "That's what I wanted, baby, right there." She squeezed my thick shaft tightly, then smiled at me. "Well? Do you love my tits more than you love Lucy's?"

I gasped in pleasure as she sank a half-inch lower on my dick, and tried to adopt an innocent expression. "I d- I don't know, I've never looked."

"Liar," she said playfully. "I've seen you looking. Why wouldn't you?"

"She's my daughter," I protested.

"She's my daughter too, and I look."

"You do?"

"Of course I do! You might pretend not to notice, but I've watched Lucy turn into a sexy young woman. If you were honest, you'd admit that you've seen it too."

"I have," I admitted.

"I know, and it's okay. You'd have to be blind not to see it. Our daughter's - what's the MTV word, a hottie?"

"Yeah," I laugh. "A hottie. You're so hip."

"I'm hip enough to know they don't say 'hip' anymore, grandad. You're, like, in squares-ville, man."

"Well, that just proves it. You wouldn't recognise cool if it came up and slapped you in the face."

"I'll show you how cool I am, stud," Becky said, grinding her hips down onto mine, working my swollen dick deeper inside her hot snatch. "Pretty cool?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yeah," I replied with a grin. "Pretty damn cool, baby."

"So... do you like Lucy's tits more than you like mine?"

I considered the question - which, if nothing else, should have warned me I was straying into dangerous territories. I had only glimpsed Lucy's full, budding breasts once, when she had emerged from the shower and run down the hall to her bedroom with only a towel wrapped around her waist, unaware that her devoted father was kneeling by his bedroom door at the end of the hall, trying to find the telephone cable. The vision of her pert, glistening young titties bouncing down the hallway toward me floated through my mind, causing my cock to twitch deep inside Becky.

"Ooh, naughty boy," she cooed happily. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," I said hesitantly, but she didn't buy it for a moment.

"Are you thinking about our baby girl, Mike? Are you thinking about anything in particular?" she teased, emphasising the last word with a hard squeeze of her pussy.

"Yes," I confessed. "I was thinking about her tits."

"You like them?" she asked, scratching her fingernails down my chest as she squeezed my dick again.

"God yes," I moaned.

"Have you seen them? Naked, I mean, in all their glory?"

"Once," I replied. "Only once."

"Aw, that's too bad, baby. I get to see them all the time."

"What do you mean?"

"Later, baby," Becky said, leaning down to kiss me. She placed her hands on my shoulders, forcing me flat on the bed, and began to ride my slick cock with her usual enthusiasm and single-mindedness. I responded eagerly, shifting my hips to meet her thrusts, driving my tumescent dick into her hot hole with increasing passion. We fucked eagerly, our hands clasped together, our bodies moving in a sinuous wave that swept my cock deep inside her willing snatch again and again. Suddenly, Becky paused, and leaned down to kiss me.