Meeting James

I can't believe this is happening. What am I doing, jerking off a complete stranger in a disgusting restroom? This guy could be anybody—a heroin addict, a mugger, a rapist. I consider myself smart. I've got a good amount of common sense—definitely enough to let go of him and run. But do I do that? Nope.

My elevated heart rate and nervous, shallow panting are making me lightheaded. Through the fog in my brain, I watch my hand working him, as if it's not mine—as if I'm watching a scene in one of James' pornos—because there is no way that hand belongs to Jenny Novak. She's not a risk-taker, not adventurous. She'd never jeopardize her health and safety for a few moments of excitement. But I guess she can't—I can't—claim those things, anymore.

I keep stroking, my hand sneaking further and further down his shaft each time. He thrusts his hips against the wall, pushing his cock as far through the hole as he can get it. I can see his dark, well-groomed hair, and I even get glimpses of the fabric of his pants, since his cock is sticking out through his open fly. The fabric is grey. With navy pinstripes.

This is my father.

My hand stills while I process that thought. James is on the other side of that wall, and my hand is wrapped around his hard, gorgeous dick. He has to know it's his daughter who's jerking him off. He watched me enter this room, and he came in less than a minute after I did. Just to make doubly sure he understands what's happening, I slide my hand down to fist the base of his cock, my palm on the underside and my shiny, violet fingernails resting on top, and I grip him tight. His raspy growl leaves me without a doubt that he knows exactly who I am.

He's clearly made his decision, and now it's time for me to make mine. With my hand still encircling him, unmoving, my eyes fix on the dividing wall. I may as well have x-ray vision, because I can picture him perfectly. His suit jacket is unbuttoned, and his tie loosened or removed completely. His palms are flat against the wall, level with his head, as if he's being frisked, and his hips are straining against the barrier that prevents our bodies from touching. There's sweat on his brow and at the back of his neck, and his lips are parted. In my mind, he is beautiful—passion personified.

Half of my genes are his, so he gets to be listed on my birth certificate as my father, but that's not what he is. Not really. To me, this is a man I've known less than a day. Thinking of him objectively, instead of through the eyes of an emotionally neglected daughter, I can admit he's tall, strong, smart, attentive, polished, and sexy as hell. I remember the way my heart raced the first time he touched my hand at dinner, and I realize now that it was from attraction. I'm attracted to my father. If I'd been raised by him, I probably wouldn't feel what I'm feeling, but I wasn't. I can't deny that I want him, and judging by our current situation, I can have him.

Looks like I've made my decision, too.

Still clutching his cock at the root, I crouch down until my mouth is level with the tip. I watch in awe as another little bead of pre-come forms there and grows heavy enough that it drips onto my inner thigh. With the hand not on his erection, I smear the slippery liquid onto my first two fingertips and bring my hand up my skirt and under the waistband of my underwear, using the lubrication to slowly circle my clit. I probably didn't have to use his fluids for that, because I have so much of my own between my legs that it's soaking through my cotton panties. This way was just... hotter.

Touching myself elevates this whole encounter. Before, it was only about his pleasure—I was just the tool for it. Now, it's just as much for me as it is for him, because I want to get off just as badly as I want him to.

Still working my clit, I lean forward and bring my parted lips to less than an inch from the right side of his cock. I let my warm breath caress the sensitive flesh from base to tip, then move to the left side to give it the same treatment. This close, I can smell his masculine scent, and all I want right now is to taste it. Tilting my head back, I trace the length of the underside of his shaft with the tip of my nose, my wet tongue trailing behind, tasting the salt on his skin. When I reach the head, I take it into my hot, hungry mouth, and wrap my lips around it.

Somewhere above me, I hear a loud grunt and the sound of his fist slamming against the wall. The cheap metal construction shakes with the force of it. I suck as I slide my mouth off of him and give a breathy laugh at his reaction. It's the first real sound I've made since this started, and his cock twitches in response to it.

I don't put my mouth back on him for a full minute, probably making him worry that I've changed my mind and realized how incredibly wrong this is. But I realized that as soon as I learned whose dick I was playing with, and it wasn't enough to stop me then. I don't think anything could, at this point.

When I decide he's suffered long enough, I open up wide to take as much of him as I can into my mouth and start sucking him off. He's big enough that I can only fit half of his cock in there, so I start pumping him with the hand that's still wrapped tightly around the bottom half.

I work him at a torturously slow pace, never picking up speed. Aside from his choice to present his cock to me, I've been making every move, deciding every direction this will take. I do appreciate that. If I'd chosen to stop at any point, or to never start at all, that would have been the end of it. But I don't want to make all the decisions anymore. Now, I want him to take over. I want him to use my mouth.

After a few minutes of my lazy rhythm, his hips instinctively start rocking forward, but only in very shallow thrusts. He's probably hesitant, afraid that one wrong move will push me too far, and I'll stop. To encourage him, I let out a low moan that vibrates through every thick inch between my lips.

Hearing my unmistakable sound of pleasure, James' thrusts become more insistent, more forceful. I keep my head still, letting him truly fuck my mouth. The wall vibrates as his hips bang into it repeatedly, and I tighten my lips around him and suck harder. I close my eyes and focus on the feel of his impossibly hard, hot cock sliding back and forth over my tongue, the taste of his soft skin in my wet mouth, and the juices flowing from my core as I easily slip two fingers inside.

I can feel him throbbing in my hand and mouth, which means he's getting close. I think about finishing him off like this—letting him shoot his load on my tongue, face, or breasts. The thought of my skin coated in his thick, white spunk nearly sets me off, but I know that isn't how I want to come. It's definitely not how I want James to come, either.

I pull my head back, so that his seeking cock can't reach my mouth anymore. His erection glistens with my saliva, and the head is swollen and a very dark, angry red color. A string of pre-come links my mouth to the tip of his cock, until I lick my bottom lip and watch as the string snaps. He's panting loudly on the other side, and I look up to see his well-manicured fingers gripping the top of the aging slab of rusted metal between us, as if he can't support himself without its help.

The whole moment is surreal, but right now, I prefer it that way. I refuse to let reality seep in and ruin this strange and forbidden bonding moment between me and my father. The only things allowed to permeate my mind are the relentless, painful pumping of blood to my clit, the sight of his beautiful cock still so close to my face, the heat we've generated together, and the thick smell of sex, which has somehow overpowered all the other smells in this room. With everything else barred from entering my consciousness, what I do next is just the natural progression of things. It's what my body clearly wants, and, judging by the pre-come still dripping from his still- fully erect cock, it's what he wants, too.

I lean in and lick the clear liquid from him, tasting it's intoxicating flavor one last time before standing up. My legs are shaking like crazy from having been in a crouched position for so long. As I pull my short skirt back up around my waist, I look up at James' knuckles, now blanched white with the effort it's taking him to hold on. I quickly slide my underwear down to my knees and step out, one leg at a time, before hanging them on the broken hook on my stall door. When I see how soaked they are at the crotch, I do something very out of character for me—I giggle. My father's pained groan echoes off the tile walls and through the room.

I spin around, so my ass faces him, and bend at the waist to look between my legs. His rigid dick is an inch or two above my entrance, so I go up on my tiptoes and reach behind me to grab hold of him. I spread my legs a little further apart and rub the tip up and down over my wet slit, getting it ready for me. Then, holding it right at my opening, I start to pushing my hips back, until I have the head of his cock buried inside my hot, needy pussy.

Just as I start to moan, James shouts, "Oh, fuck!" I'm not ready to move back anymore, yet. Thanks to my father's birthday gift, I'm used to having something inside me there, but James is much thicker than Vinnie, so he's stretching me more than I've ever been stretched. It takes me a moment to adjust before I start pressing further back. His cock is as far through the glory hole as it can be, so I get to take him in at the pace I need.

I go slowly, but eventually, I've fully impaled myself on him. My juices made sliding myself onto large dick easier than I expected. And, fuck, it felt so good going in. I remain still, now, taking a moment to appreciate everything I'm feeling. His cock is so hot, and he's filling me up so completely. I can actually feel his him throbbing against my tight walls, and my pussy answers by spasming around him.

I would be happy to stay just like this for hours, stuffed full with my father's long shaft, but my body has other ideas. Once I get accustomed to having something so large stretching me, I begin slowly pulling off of him, until just the head is left inside, and then, just as slowly, I take him back in again. I do this a few times before he starts moving in time with me. His hips pull back as mine move forward, and then we come together again. I moan every time he pushes back in. Over and over, my ass presses against the cold metal wall, trying to get as much of James' cock in me as I can. I want him, all of him, but I also crave the friction of him pumping in and out of me.

I've thought about sex so much. I've thought about what it would feel like, smell like, taste like, sound like. I've fingered myself countless times, and after I got Vinnie, I used him to make myself come every single night. I thought I had a pretty good idea of what this would be like, but I was so very wrong. Having an actual cock in me—a hard, smooth, pulsing, eager cock—is like a drug, and the high is only intensified by knowing it's my father's. I feel my arousal coursing through my veins, making my head spin and my body weak but wanting.

No longer able to hold myself up, I reach across the narrow space and press my palms against the dingy, mildewy tile. I can worry later about what I've just been infected with—there's no room in my mind for that right now. With the added leverage the wall is giving me, I can start to really fuck my father, bouncing back on him and making the metal behind me shake and the sound reverberate through the room.

James stops moving, but he doesn't pull back, so I keep fucking myself with his cock, using it for my pleasure. I cry out as I thrust back onto him again and again, feeling the head caress that magical spot inside me each time. I'm panting in time with my rapid movements, and I quickly get too lightheaded to support myself on the wall anymore. I bend over further, and my hands slide down the grimy wall, until they come to rest on the metal toilet paper dispense. I have to pause for a moment to catch my breath, and James takes over for me.

With my ass pressed hard against the divider, he begins pistoning into me. I wish so much that his strong hands could grab my hips right now and pull me back onto him with each thrust. If the fucking is this intense now, I can only imagine how much better it would be if I could feel more than just his cock—if all of his skin could touch all of mine, and we could explore and please each other's bodies completely.

My clit starts throbbing, begging for attention, so I bring one hand back to play with it. As I circle it with the pads of two fingers, I get closer and closer to my orgasm. I cry louder, almost shouting. My juices start leaking out around his cock and trickling down my inner thighs, enhancing the wet sound of our fucking. My walls begin to clench and unclench around him, and I feel his cock grow impossibly bigger. We're both so close to coming.

He could pull out of my clutching cunt. I could pull away from the wall and finish myself off with just my fingers. But he doesn't, and neither do I. I can tell he wants to shoot inside my tight, wet hole just as much as I want his thick cock filling me as I explode around it.

I start shouting "Yes!" repeatedly and almost incoherently as I approach my climax, and I hear him growling and grunting behind me. My fingers speed up on my clit while my pussy convulses, and then I'm flying. This orgasm is so different from any I've ever experienced before, and I come harder than I thought possible. I don't know how I don't pass out from it, but I remain standing. I take my fingers off my clit and move my hand back to the dispenser again, so I can push myself back against the stall wall as much as possible, as my father bottoms out in me. He's as far in as he can get with a wall separating us, and I feel his cock pulse as he starts pumping his hot seed into my depths.

I scream and he yells "Fuck!" as another orgasm rips through me, making my cunt milk him for every drop, until it's spilling out and dripping down my legs. My father begins pumping again, lazily, as we both come down from our peak. My breath slows, and the only sound I can hear is the ringing in my ears. I think my own screams have deafened me.

He remains inside me for another minute, until his cock begins to soften. Then he slips out of my drenched pussy, leaving me feeling so empty. It takes a lot of effort, but I straighten myself up, and his come gushes from between my legs and lands on the floor. I try not to wonder how many layers of the sticky liquid coats that tile. Yick.

When I turn around, his cock is gone, and the next thing I hear is the bathroom door swinging open and shut. I'm alone, now. I lean back against the wall and try to process what just happened. I just lost my virginity... in a filthy public restroom... to my father. It's not how I pictured my first time, but, somehow, it was better than anything I could have imagined.

I need to clean myself off, so I reach down for some toilet paper, then remember that I'd already used the last of it. My panties will have to suffice, and I use them to wipe off my father's and my come from my legs and pussy, then ball the wet fabric up in my hand. I have a plan for it. I can still feel some of our fluids leaking out of me, but I think I'll just leave that there. I go to the sink to wash my hands, but no water comes out, and the soap dispenser is empty. I guess my hands are going to be covered in germs and come until we get to James' place.

I leave the room and walk back to the SUV. James is already sitting inside, all casual, as if nothing incredible or insanely taboo has just happened. Once I'm in, I lean toward him, giving him the impression that I'm going to kiss him. My parted lips pass just inches from his, and I can see the lust in his eyes as they follow my mouth. Instead, I reach into his suit jacket and tuck my well-used underwear into the pocket, then sit back in my seat. James clears his throat before he leans over me and reaches his hand between my legs. I shiver when his arm grazes the soft, exposed skin of my inner thigh, and then his hand is opening the glove box.

I like this game.

He pulls out a little bottle of hand sanitizer and hands it me.

I look at him, beaming, and tell him, "You are a lifesaver. Thank you." More sincere words were never spoken.

His warm smile lights up his face, and our eyes lock for what feels like forever, before he starts the car and pulls back onto the highway. It's silent for the rest of the trip, except for the sensual music coming from the speakers. There's a lot of low bass and heavy beats, and it's turning me on again. Great. Thanks, dad.

When we get to his house, it takes my breath away. It's dark out, but there are lights lining the walkway, so I can see the property well enough. It's not the ostentatious mansion I expected. It's large, but not unnecessarily so. It was clearly built a long time ago but has been lovingly restored. It's beautiful. For some reason, when I look at this house, all I can think is, "This is home."

Still not saying anything, James grabs my bags and leads me inside the house and up to the bedroom I'll be staying in. Placing my luggage on the floor by the bed, he turns to me, takes my hand, and finally speaks.

"I'm just down the hall. Your room has its own bathroom, and it's stocked with towels and whatever else you need. If you need anything—anything at all—let me know." If I'm not mistaken, that last part has a double meaning.

"I will," I tell him, gazing into the eyes that match mine.

My father lifts my hand, looks again at my light violet nails, and then presses a soft kiss to them, letting his lips linger there. It feels like there are butterflies in my womb, and my breathing picks up a little. Then he releases me and walks toward his bedroom. Finally alone, I walk to my bed and collapse onto it.

"I think that went well," I say to myself.

* * * * *

Later that night, while I'm in the shower, I hear James sneak in behind me. I feel his erection against my ass when he wraps his arms around my waist and presses kisses to the back of my neck and down my shoulder. He quickly spins me so that I'm facing the wall, pulls my hips back and shoves his cock deep inside me. Having his warm skin on mine and being able to feel all of him, instead of just cold metal, heightens everything. I never once look behind me as he fucks me. When we both find release, he spills his seed inside me, yet again, before pulling out and leaving me to finish my shower.

The rest of the week continues this way. We spend as much time as we can getting to know each other. We go out for dinner every night, and each time, he holds my hand on top of the table. One day, he brings me to his offices, and I'm impressed with how professional everything looks and how many people he has on his staff. I've always wanted to go into marketing, and now I'm thinking how great it would be to work with my father.

At least once a day, James finds an opportunity to get inside me me. One night, he wakes me from sleep as he settles between my parted thighs. The room is pitch black, so we can't see each other, but I can feel his hot skin as he covers my body with his.

Another time, I'm outside, lying on my stomach and sunbathing. My eyes are closed, but I can tell there's a body looming over me, blocking the sun. He slips a blindfold over my eyes and ties it at the back of my head, then straddles my thighs, pulls my bikini bottoms to the side, and pushes into me.

This is how I spend the seven of the most incredible days of my life. When we make love, I never look at him, we never talk, and he always finishes inside of me. I've convinced myself that he must have had a vasectomy, or something. It would explain why he never worries about filling his very fertile, young daughter with his seed. It would also explain why he never had any kids after me, despite having been married three times.