Chapter 3

Prom was a waste of time. For once Chrissy and I weren’t doubling. John came to the door to pick me up. I had told him to do that and not to just honk. My parents shook his hand and all that stuff. He had a corsage for me. To pin it on he had to slide his fingers down into my cleavage a little bit. He was obviously very nervous about that, but he got the thing on. Then there were pictures, and we finally escaped.

John might have been an athlete, but he couldn’t dance to save his life. Even slow dancing went wrong. He stepped on my feet at least three times. And he brought booze in a little flask. He showed it to me like he was some big hero or something. He put it in my punch too. I drank a little, but he was an idiot because he’d brought bourbon and was putting it in fruit punch. It tasted awful. We sat for a while and talked to friends. Then we danced some more.

Finally he got to the point by talking about what a great time we were going to have at the after party George Stillwell was having out at his father’s farm. There was going to be a bonfire and beer.

“George is fixing up the barn with all kinds of dark corners so people can take a blanket in there and get it on,” he said, smiling widely.

The guy thought I was going to sleep with him! On our first date! After stepping on my toes and ruining my good shoes!

“I can’t go,” I said. “I have a curfew.”

“You didn’t tell me that when I asked you to prom,” he complained.

“I didn’t know it until my parents told me,” I said.

“Can we at least do it in the car on the way home?” he asked. Just like it was completely normal. I couldn’t believe it!

“No, we cannot do it in the car on the way home,” I said calmly. “I’m not having sex with you tonight, John.”

“Shit!” he said.

That’s when I realized he was drunk.

So I said I had to go to the bathroom, and left the school instead. It was cold, and Chrissy’s house was closer than mine. Besides, my parents had said I could go to the after party as long as I promised not to drink. I had my cell phone, and Daddy had made sure it was fully charged before I left. He was all primed to come get me if I needed help.

But I didn’t need help.

What I needed was Mr. C.

They never locked the French doors that led to the dining room from the patio. I took my shoes off so they wouldn’t click on the paving stones. As I walked by the hot tub I remembered my first mouthful of man juice. I intended to get my second that night. The door was open, as usual, but I heaved a sigh of relief. If I’d have had to call him to open the door, I was afraid he wouldn’t do it. I still wasn’t eighteen, and would not be for another thirty-nine days.

As I made my way through the darkened house, I started worrying that, when he heard me, he’d be scared, or startled. My dad had guns in the house, but I’d never seen one at Chrissy’s. Still, scaring him didn’t seem like a good way to set the mood.

I stopped and got my cell phone out. I punched the button that called them and heard the phone ring far away.

“Hello?” he answered.

“It’s just me, Mr. C.” I said. “Chrissy is fine.”

“Good,” he said. “You okay?”

“That depends,” I said. “I would really like to show you my prom dress. You asked me about it, remember?”

“I did,” he said. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“So can I come up and show it to you?”

“What’s going on, Mal?” he asked.

“I’m downstairs. My date was a jerk, so I left.”

“Isn’t that against the rules?” he asked.

“It is,” I admitted. “If they find out I’ll be blackballed from all future proms, no doubt.”

“You’re in the house?”

“I’m in the dining room. I didn’t want to surprise you if you’ve got a woman in bed with you.”

He laughed. “No chance of that.”

“No chance?”

“This isn’t a good idea, Mal.”

“All I’m going to do is show you my dress,” I said plaintively.

“Yeah, right.”

“I promise. I’ll show you the dress, and then I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

There was a long silence. Finally he said “You’ll leave if I tell you to ... right?”

“Right,” I said. I didn’t like saying that, but I was locked in.

“Okay.”

“Be right up,” I said.

I took the dress off on the way up the stairs. It was deep blue, and it really was pretty. It was backless and had a built in bra, so when I arrived at his door, all I was wearing were the lavender high rise panties I had gotten to go under it. My nipples were already stiff, but it might have been because I was scared to death he was going to yell at me and kick me out.

I gathered all the courage I had in me and stepped into the room, holding the dress out in one hand to my left. He was lying on a bunch of pillows, half reclining in bed, with the covers pulled up to his waist. An open book lay face down on his stomach.

“Here is the dress,” I said. I pointed at the panties. “And here is what I got to wear under it.”

“I knew it,” he groaned. “I knew you’d have something up your sleeve.”

I dropped the dress on the floor. I ran a hand up each arm.

“Nope. No sleeves, and nothing up there even if I had some.” I went for broke and pushed the panties down too, stepping out of them. “Nothing in here either.”

“Well that’s not true,” he sighed.

“What?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“There is a beautiful, delicious pussy in them. Or there was,” he said.

He hadn’t ordered me out, so I took a step toward the bed upon which he was lying.

“Yes, but my pussy is empty too,” I said.

I know it sounds corny now. It probably was then too. But we had always played a sort of strange game. It had started when I was fourteen, and the rules had change a little each year, but it was always the same game. I didn’t know how the game would end, or when it would be over. I didn’t want it to end, actually. So I kept trying to play.

He stared at me with that deep, dark gaze he used so well. I stopped, unsure now. Here I was, standing naked in his room, hoping for something that had never happened, and which I didn’t know what would be like, but wanting it all the same. I was scared, but I was also hopeful.

His arm moved and I watched his hand reach for the covers at the edge of the bed. He pulled them back, exposing an expanse of pale blue sheet beside him.

He was naked.

His hand patted the sheet beside him, while the other hand picked up the book, closed it and put it on the night stand, all without him taking his eyes off of me.

I felt the most incredible rush of relief, and joy and ecstasy. It was exactly like an orgasm, except my sexual organs weren’t involved at all.

I ran, and he smiled as I jumped into the bed, landing half on top of him and pushing my face at him for a kiss.

I got the kiss. And then the world became a place I had never been before, and knew nothing about.

He was on me like a wolf must attack a sheep. In no time at all I found myself on my back, with both arms above my head. My wrists were crossed and he gripped them both with one big hand so that I couldn’t use my hands at all.

His mouth attacked my breasts, licking, sucking, nipping even. I felt his teeth grip a nipple and pull it away from my chest until I whined with the discomfort of it. And yet it felt delicious. He needed a shave, and his stubble scratched me, but that made my skin feel more alive than I could imagine. Then his mouth came back up and he kissed me over and over while his hand slid so slowly down, over my belly and onto the fluffy hair I had so meticulously snipped and clipped so it would fit in my bikini. The tip of one finger arrived at the top of my split, but stopped just short of my clit. I thought I’d die if he didn’t touch my clit.

Finally he moved the finger to circle my bump. I cried out into his mouth and bucked my hips up at his hand. His finger penetrated me and he hooked it like he always had. I felt the tip moving back and forth, like it was searching for something. The base of his fingers squashed my clit and he did that amazing vibrating hand thing again.

He was still holding my hands, but the orgasm came anyway. I know I screamed. And I know I kept screaming, because right in the middle of that orgasm, he rolled on top of me, kneeing my thighs apart, and I felt a stretching, searing sensation just inside my pussy lips as he took what I had offered. Only then did he let go of my wrists, but it didn’t matter, because his full weight was on me and there was nothing I could do to get away from that thing that was splitting me apart down there.

It felt like I was in an earthquake, or maybe a ship at sea in a hurricane. The bed was shaking and our bodies were heaving and bouncing. Out of the blue there came an incredible streak of pleasure that I recognized had been sent to my brain by my clit. I felt tremendous pressure in my pussy, but it didn’t hurt, exactly.

Then he suddenly stopped.

He did a pushup with his arms. His hands were right under my arm pits. But only his chest rose, and I dragged in a huge breath, half sobbing as it was expelled so I could drag in another.

He looked down and I realized his weight was completely off of me. I raised my head and saw he was on his knees. I also saw that his brown pubic hair was kissing mine. He was in me ... all the way in me. I had a penis in my pussy at that moment. I couldn’t believe it!

Then he pulled it almost out of me, hesitated just a second, and slid it back in, bouncing off my mons. My clit sang out again.

He did it again, almost gently pulling and pushing. The pressure was still there, but felt different somehow. I realized there was no pain at all any more. In fact, I could barely remember what that pain had been like. I was so amazed that that big thing actually fit in me!

He pushed in and then moved his hips sideways to the right, and back to the left.

I felt so many things when he did that. I felt his cock deep inside me, moving a little bit as he tried to drag it sideways and my pussy refused to let it go that way. My clit almost buzzed with the joy of being massaged by the base of his cock. I felt the skin of his thighs rubbing on my own. I felt his breath washing over my face as he panted. Everything wanted to be felt first.

He stopped rubbing and started fucking it in and out of me again. I watched until my neck muscles complained at holding my head up, and I let my head flop back. It was different when I couldn’t see what was happening. Now it was all up to my tissues to report what they were feeling.

And what they were feeling was incredible. I tried to think of anything else that felt that good. The first swallow of cool water on a hot day after a run? No contest. This beat that hands down.

And then I couldn’t think of anything, because I felt an orgasm looming over me. Usually I could tell when it was going to happen, but this felt like I was surrounded by something that could pounce at any time.

He surprised me by leaning down and kissing me again. It wasn’t rough this time. Instead it was tender. But at the same time he let his body weight down on me again and sped up, his cock sliding in and out faster and faster. I felt a drop of something on my face and realized he was sweating. That orgasm was still looming over me, too, but I wasn’t in a hurry for it to get there. I wanted this to last a lot longer.

“Oh Mal,” he groaned into my mouth. His lips slid off to one side and his chin dropped onto my shoulder. He was moving so fast now that I was reminded of when he jerked off in front of me.

“Oh Mal!” he whined.

Then he stopped, deep inside me and I felt a new heat blooming right where the tip of his cock was. I knew he was shooting in me ... those streaks of white I had watched coming out were now confined in my body. I knew about sperm, and the danger of sperm, but I hadn’t thought about it until that very instant when I felt his sperm being released into my belly.

But it was his sperm ... the sperm of the man I loved. And it didn’t feel dangerous at all.

It just felt wonderfully warm inside me.

There is almost nothing more pitiful than a man who feels he has failed his lover.

I had overwhelmed his defenses, and he had reacted as nature intended for a man to react. He had mated with me. That’s what men are supposed to do.

But modern men expect more of themselves than mere mating. At least the men who are worth a flying fuck do. They expect to leave their selected mate limp and satisfied, unable to even think of finding another man to add more sperm, to increase the odds of successful fertilization.

And I had resisted having that orgasm a little too long.

I didn’t care. It had been something wondrous and amazing, and I’d never forget it. But he was devastated that he had “ruined” my first time. If he hadn’t been so close to tears I would have laughed.

Teenage girls might not be as sophisticated as our older sisters, but we aren’t completely lacking in the tools which can be used to manipulate a male.

I told him he could make it up to me.

I told him I wanted to cuddle. He turned out to be good at that. Half an hour later I went down on him, steeling myself to confront my own juices, and was pleasantly surprised to find out I didn’t taste any different on his cock than I did on his daughter’s lips.

I got what I wanted, which was a nice, stiff cock, and the second time wiped his record squeaky clean. He was gentle, but forceful, and he was calm enough to pay attention to me, which he did in ways that still amaze me. I had never had more than one orgasm at a time. I didn’t even think about multiple orgasms. He did. Three orgasms later, I was that limp, satisfied woman, who wanted nothing more than a chance to snooze in warmth, next to my man. He kissed me as he came in me again, and this time I felt the pulsing of his penis as it delivered another ball of heat to my middle.

Then, held in his arms, I heard the click of the lamp switch and saw the light go dark through my eyelids ... and slept.

I woke up when Chrissy climbed in bed with me, naked.

That wasn’t odd. We had slept naked together dozens of times. Something niggled at my brain this time, but I felt so good and warm that I didn’t want to think about anything that might be amiss.

She snuggled up to me and her hand found my breast. It squeezed. I smiled in that place between sleep and waking.

The hand squeezed again and the bed shook as she sat up, using me as a prop.

“Mallory?”

Of course I was Mallory. Who else would I be? Why was she being so loud?

“MALLORY!”

“Whaaat?” I complained.

“What are you doing in bed with my daddy?” she squealed.

I felt Mr. C. move then, and realized the warmth I was leaning my back against was him.

The world flip flopped suddenly, and I felt weightless. I knew I wasn’t weightless, and that I was falling as a result of that flip-flopping world. I was pretty sure when I hit it wasn’t going to be good. My mind was whirling. Then the lamp on the nightstand came on and my eyelids clamped down.

“Mallory?” Chrissy’s voice had gotten higher and louder each time she said my name.

I cracked open my eyelids and saw her sitting above me. She had flawless skin that she took good care of, and her nipples, unlike mine, were tiny and pale. Her areolas were all but invisible until you sucked on them for a while. Then they darkened up enough to be seen. She looked mad as hell.

“What ... are you doing in bed ... naked ... with my father?” she demanded hotly.

I was thinking a little more clearly now. I was still jangled, but Chrissy and I had had innumerable arguments in the past, and I knew how to argue with her.

“Me? I think the question here is what are you doing in bed, naked, with your father?” I suggested.

She blinked and the anger in her cheeks paled.

“Oh shit,” she said.

Mr. C. got up on one elbow. He looked at both of us.

“I know I shouldn’t say this, at least not right now, but you have no idea how often I’ve wanted to see the two of you naked together.”

There was uproar. But it wasn’t like any uproar I’d ever witnessed (or taken part in) before. It turned out Chrissy had been sleeping with her father since she was sixteen. It happened after a sleepover, actually, when the last of the girls had left. She had gone to climb in bed with her father, just to cuddle and be near him. He had been fully asleep at the time, but only hours earlier he had had his finger in my pussy and was kissing me and loving me. And when she got in bed with him, his mind, feeling a warm woman in bed with him, had drifted off into areas his waking mind would have avoided. As a result, she had gotten the same thing I had gotten - she got stroked and kissed and a finger in her pussy before he woke up enough to realize who she was and what he was doing. She had gone from shock, to curiosity, to acceptance in a matter of minutes. When he had refused to continue, she had masturbated right there in the bed. Seeing her as a sexual being ... who was actively involved in seeking sexual climax, he couldn’t resist helping her. The rest, as they say, was history.

So she thought of him as “her” man in even more ways than I did.

Which was why, when she learned about my story, she got even madder, because he had been playing with me sexually long before he played with her. She was jealous.

I pointed out that, if I wasn’t mistaken, she had lied to me for two years about being a virgin.

She pointed out that I should have told her what her father was doing with me.

He let us act like cats for ten minutes and then told us both to shut up.

“You love each other,” he said. “You’ve loved each other for as long as I can remember.”