Though Wanda readily and openly recognized this need to compete, she was slower in realizing that she desired to compete sexually, and it was only after a great deal of mental struggle that she reached the decision that was to lead her into the sexual relationship with her father.
As I turned the cock-like vibrator slowly over and over in my hand, looking at it through eyes that were heavy with sleep, I found myself remembering the first time I'd seen it. That night, almost six months ago, had changed my life.
I'd been in bed, half asleep, when I heard them arguing in their room, really going at it, and I laughed to myself as I slipped on a robe and crept quietly through the house to listen. I was hoping he'd knock the old bitch's teeth out, I guess.
I stopped at the dark little alcove in the hallway, where I could see through the half-opened door to their room. Their lights were on, and I could see my father sitting on the bed. He had on a pair of white shorts, nothing else. Faye was out of sight.
"You get more... more freakish every week," I heard her say in that shrill voice that always scrapes across my nerves. "I never know what kind of perverted thing you'll dream up next. Well, this one's too much, Press. I won't do it."
"Perverted, my aching ass!" he said loudly. His face was a dark red. "Anything except a straight fuck is perverted to a cold old bitch like you. You think that cunt of yours is a Goddamned prize or something!"
Faye stepped out where I could see her. She was naked except for a pair of pale blue panties, and I could see the dark hair of her cunt through them. Her tits were little, far smaller than mine, and I wondered what my father had ever seen in her. Then I noticed the object she held in her hand.
"I've done a lot... a lot of things to keep you happy," she said. "But I won't lower myself by inserting this... thing into myself while you watch." She looked sourly down at the tube in her hand.
I had just a brief glimpse of it before she threw it on the bed and said, "If you can't do it without things like that, we'll just not do it at all." She stepped out of sight again.
"You can't even call it what it is, can you, you cold-assed cunt? You can't even say fucking, can you?" he shouted.
"Well, I'll tell you why I need a show, 'cause fucking you is like sticking it in a dead mule, that's why!"
I knew that she'd soon be coming out of their bedroom after a remark like that, so I went quickly back to my own room and got in bed. Then I thought about what I'd seen. Even then, I knew that he'd wanted Faye to fuck herself with the tube I'd seen her holding. I didn't know exactly what it was, of course, and I really wasn't too concerned with that. I just wondered why she wouldn't do it.
Didn't she know how lucky she was to have a man like my father? Didn't she know most women would be happy to do anything for a man like that? Or didn't she even care? Maybe the tube could hurt a woman's pussy in some way, I thought. Just before I dropped off to sleep, I decided to find out for myself.
I got my chance the next time the two of them left the house together. It took me almost an hour to find it. It was hidden in a box in their closet, a box that was almost filled with pictures of men and women sucking each other off, fucking in ways I'd never seen. I sat on their bed and looked at the cylinder.
It was molded in the shape of a cock, maybe eight inches long, with one end swelling outward in imitation of a head. The other end had a ridged base. I turned it. A humming sound came from inside it, my fingers were tickled by a steady vibration. It felt... good...!
It would feel good inside a pussy, vibrating against the wetly clinging flesh, too, I realized, and I knew that my father had been right when he said Faye was nothing but a cold-assed bitch! There was no other reason. God! How I hated that woman!
Any other woman would be glad to... to so even the things the men and women were doing in the glossy photos I'd scattered around the bed. They'd be glad to fuck themselves off with the singing cock I held in my hand... if only to please him.
I'd be glad to do it, I was suddenly thinking.
And I found myself wondering how it would be... standing naked in front of him and doing it to myself — no, not doing it, as Faye called it — fucking myself and watching him get hotter and hotter and then...
Sprawling back on the bed with my legs over the side, I lifted my ass and pulled my skirt up around my waist. With the fingers of my left hand, I held the crotch of my panties aside, and with my right hand I touched the vibrator to the lips of my pussy. I closed my eyes, lifted my hips slightly, and moaned as the quivering prick slid home. I soon had myself coming.
Not until I'd slipped the vibrator from my cunt, wiped it on my skirt, turned off its batteries and was getting ready to put it back in the box did I realize what I'd been thinking as I fucked myself. I'd Imagined myself doing it in front of a man, a faceless stranger at first, who gradually took on the face of my father. And then... he'd been between my legs, fucking me and telling me how much he liked to see me do that. And then I was coming. I looked at the vibrator, puzzled at its power, and I made a decision.
"You've found a new home, lover," I said, then put the rest of the stuff away and went to my room.
He missed it, of course, and just knowing it was possible that he suspected me made those visions of him even stronger on the nights I'd strip off my panties and use it on myself. Soon I even found myself thinking of him during the day, wondering what he'd say if he knew about the things we did in my erotic dreams.
Then I began wanting him to know about them, and wanting him to make them reality.
That nagged at me for a long time before I quit fighting it and admitted what I guess had been in my mind all along, that I wanted to be fucked by my father. After that admission was made it wasn't too long before I saw that it was possible. I decided to make it happen.
Why not? Faye was hitting the bottle pretty heavy by then; she wasn't worth the trouble of fucking, as he had said, and I wanted him... wanted him so bad. Maybe he'd even get rid of her, I thought.
I went to work on my father.
I used little things at first... things like walking around the house in my underwear, giving him a chance to see I had tits and an ass that bitch Faye could never match. Things like that.
She noticed the way he looked at me when I did that and she started bitching about it, so I had to go slower. I started giving him hot looks across the table next. The way I'd catch him looking at my tits and ass after that told me he'd caught those looks. Then I got the idea that did the trick.
I waited until I heard him in the hallway outside my room one night, then I put the idea to use.
Taking the vibrator from its hiding place and holding it against the door, I turned it on. I hoped he could hear the humming through the door. In case he couldn't, I whimpered softly, doing a bad imitation of a girl who's coming. It was a long time before I heard him leave the door.
He came to my room the next evening, looking nervous as hell. I waited for him to ask. He looked pitiful as he prowled around my room, making small talk, not looking at me as I sat on the edge of the bed. Finally, he asked, "Did you take something from my room, Wanda?" I saw him wipe his palms across his trousers.
"What would I take from your room?" I asked innocently. I knew this was it. I had to go through with my plan. Casually, I stood and began to unbutton my blouse, as if getting ready for bed, just a daughter undressing in front of her father. He looked away.
"It was... just a device," he said as I tossed my blouse on the bed. I unzipped my skirt, stepped casually out of it and asked, "What kind of device?"