As if on cue, Mrs Hamilton glanced over at the bathroom door and caught me spying on them. It seemed to make her ass jut out even more, if that was possible. But she got a queer look on her face, too, like she couldn’t wait to get down and nasty on my own ass. I quickly closed the bathroom door and tried to mind my own business.
Naturally it was too late, and the incest-punishment scene was in full swing. There was soon a knock on the bathroom door. When I opened it, it was “Daddy.” He said, “Your stepmother wishes to speak to you.”
I came out of the bathroom to find my “stepmother” stark naked, sitting on the bed. She looked good naked, but she looked angry. “Come over here,” she said.
I expected to get thoroughly spanked by her and I wasn’t sure whether or not I would get off on it; she was still Mrs Hamilton after all, a woman I had once despised. As I went to her, there was a fear in my belly reminiscent of what I had once felt facing actual punishment as a child. Of course, this wasn’t a scene remotely close to anything that would have gone on in my own house. I hadn’t lost sight of the fact that we were all here for sex.
Daddy, still fully clothed, only his cock jutting out from his pants, sat down on the bed next to the naked “Louise.” He had a stern expression on his face that made him look even more handsome. I was hoping he would force me to make it up to him somehow – all his disappointment in how I had misbehaved. But for now, the emphasis was on Louise. This was decidedly her scene, the part she was paying for.
“Come closer,” she said.
I stood directly in front of her, cowering in my schoolgirl uniform.
“What were you doing in there?” she demanded.
“Nothing.”
“It was more than nothing, young lady. You were spying on us, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I meekly confessed.
“Weren’t you told to stay in there until someone came for you?”
“Yes.”
“And why did you disobey me?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll tell you why, because you’re a dirty little girl, aren’t you? What do you suppose happens to a dirty little girl who disobeys and sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong?”
I gave it some serious thought. The look in Mrs Hamilton’s eyes was dark and unpleasant. Mr Santos, however, was in the throes of lust. He was watching it all while avidly stroking himself.
“I asked you a question,” my stepmother went on. “What do you suppose happens to a dirty little girl who disobeys?”
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“I think you do.”
I said nothing.
“Answer me.”
“I guess I need to get spanked!” I finally blurted.
I was playing my part to the hilt now and Mrs Hamilton had succumbed completely to the erotic pull of her role. She was so obviously entranced by the power of her anger. “That’s right. You need a good spanking to teach you a lesson. Get over here, right over my knee, young lady.”
She grabbed me and pulled me over her knee, positioning me across her lap in such a way that everything between my legs would be facing Mr Santos. She lifted my skirt. “I’ll teach you to be a dirty little girl,” she said, lowering my panties with deliberate patience, slowly revealing the round, white globes of my ass, then tugging the panties down my thighs.
She held my wrists tight and then gave my ass a resounding spank. “Why do you dirty girls always have to learn the hardest way how to behave?” She gave me another well-placed, stinging spank.
“I want you to tell Daddy exactly what you did; tell him why I’m so angry with you.” Another severe smack heated my cheeks, making me jump.
“Because I was watching,” I cried out.
“Watching what?” The smacks were coming more quickly now, stinging, landing relentlessly on the same spot. My ass burned. I tried to wriggle away from the aim of her blows, but it was to no avail. “Answer me; you were watching what?”
“I was watching Daddy fuck you.”
“And what else were you doing?”
She pulled gently but firmly on my hair, forcing me to look up into her face. “And what else were you doing?” she asked again, her eyes nearly glowing with lust.
“I was touching myself,” I said.
“Don’t tell me, tell Daddy.”
Daddy had gotten off the bed and come around in front of me. He was slowly jerking himself off in my face. I looked up at him, now, too. God, he looked hot. I confessed to him in my tiniest voice, “I was touching myself while I watched you fuck her.”
Daddy seemed to be in a swoon. He stuck the head of his cock between my lips. Arching my head back uncomfortably with one hand, he worked his thick tool in and out of my mouth.
Louise worked two fingers up my hole then, giving me a thorough finger-fucking while Daddy worked on my eager mouth. Within moments, Daddy had pulled a condom from his pocket.
“It’s Daddy’s turn to punish you now,” he explained. “I want you to kneel on the edge of the bed and lick Louise’s pussy.” He slathered some gooey lube on his sheathed dick. “You’re to lick her until she comes, you understand me? No fingers, just lick her. Lick her while Daddy punishes you.”
I understood. Louise was laying flat across the bed now and I knelt between her spread legs. I began licking her swollen pussy with gusto, centering on her tiny, erect clit.
But Daddy’s idea of punishment was sublime. As I knelt between Louise’s legs, my smarting red ass at the edge of the bed, my panties around my knees and my schoolgirl uniform shoved up around my waist, Daddy reamed my ass. He went at my hole aggressively, going in deep and pulling out slow, thoroughly opening the hole, giving me the fucking of my life.
It was my turn to moan into Louise’s snatch while she writhed around on my tongue. She kept my face pressed close to her mound while my tongue licked furiously at her clit, wiggled it and swirled it. It didn’t take much, really, to make her come. Daddy was grunting, seriously riding my ass in the depths of his own orgasm when Louise came in my mouth. I came just moments after she did, feeling positively delirious.
But the downside of it all was that shortly after this little explosion of mutual climaxes, they paid me my fee and told me I was free to go, even though it was obvious that they were in no hurry to leave. That’s when Mr Santos’s idea of what our relationship consisted of became brutally clear to me. I was still just a hooker to him, just one that he had an unusual amount of fun with.
It had been a rude awakening for me, one that made me less inclined to arrange many trysts with him afterward. I never let on to him that Mrs Hamilton had once been my high school teacher, or that it had been an unnerving liaison for me in a number of ways. I kept my thoughts to myself and went through the motions of earning my five hundred bucks. Eventually, I stopped seeing him altogether.
But yesterday, watching his casket disappear into the back of the hearse as I stood in the chill of the drizzling rain, I wished I’d spent just a little more time fucking him. I was going to miss that guy. I felt lucky I’d known him at all.
FOURTH DATE, FIRST FUCK by Dion Farquhar
BACK WHEN THEY were dating, before they were sure of each other, before they’d lived together for years and done just about every kind of fucking – positions, places, toys – and before they’d worried about money together, before they’d fought about who-should-have-done-what in the division-of-labor, back in their prehistory, there had been a first time.
Lying in bed alone and half awake, hand cupping her cunt, she enjoyed an orderly remembering of the extraordinary week that just ended. She was in love – again. Resilience has been her forte, and this time, like every other, she hoped she’d gotten it right and chosen a grown-up who could be a full-time partner and not just a weekend lover.
Things so often go slower these days, she thought, given AIDS and the age, not to mention their age. With an inadvertent smile, she tried to account for their not jumping into bed on the first or even the second date. Sex on the fourth date was something of a rarity in her experience as opposed to the more common variety – the slam-you-up-against-the-wall, I-could-fuck-you-right-here first date kind. With Josh, it was four dates before they got to bed. A week later, now that she was spending every night with him, it seemed both fast and slow. But what mattered, was that they got there at their own pace, and that was so right, she thought, feeling a ripple of desire course through her stomach.