My Father's Second Wife Ch. 02

I followed at a distance. Father laid down on the blanket, on his back, and Beth straddled his waist. She reached around behind herself and guided his cock back in as she lowered her hips. Once firmly implanted, she leaned forward to lay on his chest. He reached around to hug her, causing his jacket to raise up, exposing all of her ass. She began rocking back and forth, gently messaging his cock with her pussy, all while they kissed.

I'd stopped a few yards away and watched. I had a great view of Beth's ass and my father's cock disappearing, and then reappearing, between her loins. I thought of my cell phone again.

I don't know how long this went on. It was somewhat hypnotic. My indecision suddenly left me. There was still a boundary somewhere with my name on it, and I was going to keep pushing until I found it. As bold as brass, I strolled over to the blanket where the two were humping and sat down, Indian style, right next to my father. I was now less than an arm's length from Beth. Father had his eyes closed. Beth acknowledged me with a slight nod and a brief smile, before returning her attention to my dad. This was, possibly, the kinkiest thing I've ever done, and they barely noticed.

"What a heartwarming sight," said the sarcastic narrator in my head. "A scenic picnic in the mountains, a father and daughter are sharing a blanket. The daughter sits quietly, enjoying her father's company, while her father relaxes by sliding his prick into the naked trail guide on his lap. This is a family moment that will be cherished for years to come."

After a while, Beth sat up. She pulled off dad's jacket and tossed it onto the grass. She then began raising and lowering herself on his cock using just her legs. She was a cowgirl doing the cowgirl; it was a bit on the nose, but she was owning it. She alternated between resting her hands on her hips, arms akimbo, and folding them over her head.

Being inches from my face, I now had an almost clinical view of her boobs. Her breasts were larger than I originally imagined, at least a C cup, maybe a D. She had puffy pink nipples. They were soft and very buoyant, bouncing a lot more than her vertical movements. When she had her arms over her head, they were quit pronounced. When she lowered them, they reminded me of bags of soft cheese.

I was wrong about her being shaved bare. She had a wispy landing strip of rosy blonde hair on her mound, so fair that, from a distance, it was effectively invisible.

I was a little peeved that my presence hadn't caused more of a stir. "We'll, fuck them," I thought. I leaned back onto my left elbow and slid my right hand into my pants, underneath my thong, and slipped my middle finger into my already wet pussy.

I finger fucked myself right next to dad as Beth picked up her pace. She was breathing harder now, and I could see dad was starting to tense up. I was learning to recognize his signs. He was going to come soon.

I slipped a second finger into myself and started to pumping with my whole hand, mere inches from where my father was fucking his lover. Beth's wide hips were now slamming down into father's, burying his cock to the hilt, before lifting up again until he was almost all the way out, and then down again, stroking his entire length on each cycle. The strong knit of my riding pants and thong were making it difficult to move my hand much. I considered stopping to pull them down, but decided there was no time.

Beth leaned forward and steadied herself by placed her left hand on my thigh, just above my knee. My dad joined her, placing his right hand next to hers, even further up my thigh, so close to my crotch that he must be feeling my hand through the fabric as I worked it in and out of my snatch.

The two clasped their other arms together by grabbing each other's forearm. Beth then used my thigh and father's arm as leverage for her final attack.

Their touch on my leg was electric. It's as if I had been suddenly connected to their sexual circuit. I felt my father go rigid. He was coming. I couldn't tell if Beth had, or was about to, come. Her eyes were tightly shut, head tilted forward, as if in intense concentration. Her ponytail was whipping back and forth like someone waiving a flag, desperately hoping to be rescued.

Dad's climax began to pass. I might have come, I couldn't tell, I was so wound up. Father relaxed his grip on my thigh and sunk back into the blanket. Beth slowed down, eventually opening her eyes and smiling. There was that smile again. She eventually stopped moving, and bent forward for another, well deserved, kiss.

Beth was the first to get up, letting my father's cock plop against his shirt. She slid down, took it back into her mouth, and gave it a quick clean with her tongue. She then gave it a playful kiss, got to her feet, and strode across the field to retrieve her clothes, leaving my father to figure out how to get his monster back inside his jeans. Her ponytail bounced in time to her ass, her skin radiant with perspiration.

Father affectionately patted my leg and began the work of putting his cock away. I eventually extracted my hand from my pants, and sat back up. I could see Beth across the field pulling on her jeans. I had a big wet spot on my crotch.

We rode back to the ranch, Beth leading the way. My father had his jacket draped across the saddle. I don't know if it was because it was warmer now or his hard-on hadn't gone away.

Jake met us at the gate, took our reins, and walked us over to the hitch. I waited until he wasn't watching me, which wasn't often, to dismount on the side away from him, hoping he wouldn't see my soiled pants.

Saddles were removed, and the horses were let loose into a field to graze. Dad and Beth were talking, but they were too far away to overhear. I was just standing with my legs together, waiting anxiously until I could get back into the SUV.

Finally, Beth and dad starting walking towards our vehicle. Jake had reappeared and had taken to holding up a nearby fence post. Beth came right up to me and kissed me on my forehead.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself," she said, without any irony. "I'd love to have you come ride again soon."

Jake's eyes seconded that sentiment, although I suspect for completely selfish reasons.

Beth and dad hugged once more. We climbed into the SUV and drove away. The trip back was even quieter than the one out. I noticed he wasn't wearing his jacket, but said nothing.

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As we headed into the house, I sprinted towards my room, wanting to get out of these pants as soon as I could.

Dad called after me, "I've got some conference calls later, but would you like to join me for dinner?"

Again, I had to get past the initial shock of being invited to dinner with my father.

"That would be great," I yelled over my shoulder.

I was already unbuttoning my shirt.

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I was informed that dinner would be at eight. I dropped by the kitchen for a drink to find our chef setting up. Kwan does the regular cooking, but when there's a dinner party, or a special guests, our personal chef takes over.

I returned to my room to contemplate my wardrobe. I wanted something sexy for my dad, but presentable if there were other guests. I'd never known Chef to show up for just two people, so I was assuming there would be others.

I settled on a dark purple chiffon dress. It was a wrap around dress that tied above the right shoulder, leaving the left one bare, and tied again above the waist on the left. The asymmetric hemline dipped to my calf on the right, but exposed my left leg to mid-thigh. If I shifted just right, I could get the dress to part even more, exposing my left leg almost up to my waist.

It was perfect. It was casually modest, but could be "accidentally" racy. Now, how racy was I willing to go? Pantyhose would be down right timid. A thong would certainly kick it up a notch or two. But reflecting over the events of the last week, it was becoming obvious that my father has a dislike for undergarments. I decided to go for the full-on sex goddess and leave all of my panties in the drawer.

I took a bath and shaved my legs. I put on slightly exotic makeup, using purple eye shadow to complement the dress. I wrapped the dress around me and tied it at the waist. Without panties, the material mercilessly teased my newly bare pussy. I piled my hair up and held it in place with lacquer chopsticks. I chose a pair of silver heals to match a silver waterfall necklace and pendant earrings.

The girl in the mirror looked a lot more mature than I felt. I headed down to the dining room.

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There was no one in the big dining room when I arrived. Three places had been set at the table. Jazz could barely be heard in the background.

I walked across the passageway to the lounge. The lounge was a mélange of comfortable seating designed for after-dinner conversation. Bay windows looked out over the expansive front lawn and driveway.

Dad was seated in an overstuffed chair reading a tablet and sipping a glass of wine. My heels on the hardwood floor betrayed my entrance. He smiled when he saw me. Rising up, he deposited the tablet and wine glass on a table and strode over to me. He leaned down, gave me a brief kiss on the lips, and then moved in for a bear hug. It was a firm, enveloping, hug that went on long enough that I started to become concerned about the need to breath again.

When he released me, he stepped back, taking my fingertips between his and admiring me at arm's length. Dad was wearing a quilted dressing gown and house slippers.

"So, this isn't a formal dinner then?" I said.

He smiled broadly. "Honey dew, if that's what it takes to get you to dress like this, I'll throw a formal ball every damn night of the week."

He leaned in a little and spoke distinctly, separating each word with a little pause for emphasis. "You, look, gorgeous!"

"Turn around," he said excitedly, "let's see all of it."

He dropped one hand and lifted the other, twirling me around twice, like a ballroom dancer. The hem of the dress floated out to the right, causing the other side to open, almost up to my hip. He let go of my other hand and I did a small curtsy. I could tell this was putting my dad in a very good mood.

"Let's have some dinner," he said as he collected his wine glass. We walked back into the dining room.

Noticing the three place settings again, I asked, "Were we expecting company?"

Dad replied, "I was hoping, but it appears they couldn't make it." That was apparently all that was to be said on the subject.

The moment we sat down, Kwan and Chef appeared, Kwan with a bottle of wine, and Chef with the first course. Kwan left the bottle and collected the unused place setting on her way out.

The meal was sublime. I rarely partake in Chef's creations, so this was a bit of a treat. It was four courses, mostly seafood, in the Pacific Fusion style. I made several comments on it, which started a back and forth discussion on bad food at college and various places around the world.

I asked my dad about my internship at his company. He told me that Margo would be training me, and I was to meet with her at 10:00 Monday morning.

"Have you met Margo?" my dad asked idly. "Oh, of course you have," he corrected himself before I even got a chance to answer.

I wanted to answer, in my sweetest voice, "Oh yes, I met Margo earlier this week. She was kind enough to show me her neatly shaved pussy while you plowed your cock into me from behind." The comment was out of place and I, somehow, managed to hold my tongue. This diplomacy thing would take some getting used to.

The dinner went quickly. When the last plate was removed, my dad pushed his chair back and stood up. I joined him. He stood in front of me and just stared. It went on long enough that it was starting to get embarrassing.

"I can't believe how beautiful you are," he said in soft voice.

He stepped forward and kissed me, wrapping one arm behind my back and the placed his other on my left hip—copping a feel of my ass. I didn't, however, feel like I was being groped; it was more sensual.

He broke the kiss, and with the hand that was on my hip, he found the end of the tie that held the dress together. I looked down to see him holding it lightly between his thumb and forefinger. I looked back up at him. He gazed into my eyes.

"Would you mind?" was his question. It was a respectful, put pleading, question. The way a shy six year old asks to open a present early on Christmas Eve.

I answered his question by wrapping my hand around his and using his hand to pull the tie free. When the loop of the tie cleared the knot, the dress began to gently separate, chiffon flowing around me, searching for lower ground. As if in slow motion, the dress drifted apart until it was hanging from my right shoulder, like a torn sail.

My father smiled as he drank in my nakedness. "I approve," he remarked, I assume a reference to my complete lack of undergarments.

He stepped beside me. In one motion, he reached one arm behind my legs and the other behind my back. He scooped me up and carried me, naked, into the lounge. My dress fluttering behind us, still tied around one shoulder.

He sat my butt down at the end of a chaise lounge and pushed me back, so I was lying flat on my back, my feet on the floor. He stepped around between my legs and pushed them apart, kneeling between them. He moved his face right in front of my pussy and inhaled the aroma of my sex, which was already lubricated in anticipation.

He parted my folds with his tongue and began to pleasure me. His tongue was strong. Most guys, and now I could say girls, that ate me would lick and tickle. But dad used his tongue like a probe. Rather than flicking my clit, he would push into its base and shove it upwards.

It's weird to think I've had girls tongue my clit.

When he moved down to my vaginal opening, I felt his tongue going into me. I've been tongue fucked before, but this was the first time I felt penetrated.

He worked up and down, getting me all hot and bothered. I started to rock my hips, pushing back as he pushed forward. He took his mouth off, and I felt a finger insert itself. It slipped in easily.

As he started to finger fuck me, he returned his mouth to my mound, now concentrating on my clit, rolling his tongue around it in circles. One finger pulled out and two took its place. The finger fucking intensified, which only added to the relentless stimulation of my clit.

I was starting to climb towards a climax, when dad suddenly stopped, removing his mouth and yanking his fingers from my greedy pussy.

I almost cried. I lifted my head, mouthing a silent, but plaintive, "What?" As I looked down between my parted legs, I saw father open his robe. His cock appeared, center stage, like a dramatic character at the beginning of a play. Before I could finish admiring it, it lunged forward, plunging into my depths in a single stroke, all the way to the hilt. It met no resistance.

The agony of my lost orgasm was allayed as my father started fucking me. I laid my head back down and enjoyed the familiar sensation of sex.

But my moment of peace was short lived. My dad placed his thumb on my clit, pressed down, and began to rapidly vibrate it. I thought my pussy was going to explode.

Before, I had been on a slow ramp up to an orgasm. Now, I was being shoved towards it, like an insane clown, shot from a circus cannon. And I wasn't just being driving to an orgasm; I was going to crash right through it into unknown territory. I climaxed, hard.

I cried out—grunted really, a wordless, guttural emptying of my lungs. What had been intense pleasure had now crossed over into pain. My hands few, involuntarily, to my crotch. They blindly clawed and grasped at my fathers fingers, trying desperately to tear them away from my agonized clit. I wasn't strong enough to remove my father's hand, but he did stop torturing me. I clutched his fingers so hard, I was afraid I might break them—as if that were possible.

The pain quickly subsided, replaced with the afterglow of both pain and pleasure. I released my grip on his fingers, but keep my hands on his, should he try anything else.

He pulled his hand away. I could see my sex was pink and puffy. He slid one arm under my ass and the other he wrapped around my back. He pulled me upright, and then simply stood up, lifting me with him.

He walked across the room, balancing me in front of him, still impaled on his cock, like some kind of life-sized cock puppet. I imagined us doing a vaudeville act; my dad would be in a tux, me in some goofy waistcoat with my legs around his middle, stuck on his dick like a skewer. "Hi, I'm Don," he'd say. "And I'm Don's cock," I'd chime. The audience would roar with laughter.

We walked over to a sofa. Well, he walked over—I was just a passenger. He turned around and sat down, deftly keeping himself inside me the whole time. He slumped down in the seat a bit and spread his legs, causing mine to spread a bit too.

I was initially disappointed. Usually, I find a guy who likes to sit down with a girl on his dick does it because he wants her to do all the (fucking) work. It can be a hot change-up position, but too often it's some frat boy, too God-damned lazy to jack himself off.

But as I was about to find out, that wasn't the case here. After sliding down, father pulled my legs forward onto the sofa a bit and raised me up slightly. He then began to jack into me from underneath, using just his legs and pelvis. Jesus, he was in good shape. All I had to do was stay still and get fucked to within an inch of my life. I was in heaven.

Facing my dad, I could see out the front bay window. While his cock was working its magic on my next orgasm, I watched as an open bed truck drove up the driveway. It drove past the front door and stopped, just out of sight. I heard a truck door open and close. I felt my father's balls slap against my ass.

I could feel my orgasm starting to build again. My legs were tense, my breath shallow. I began to hear distant footsteps, hard heels on the hardwood floor. I leaned in and wrapped my arms around father's neck, urging him to drive deeper.

The footsteps were loud now. I could mentally track them as the owner walked up behind me and stopped. I bowed my back to get that extra bit of depth from each stroke.

My eyes flew open when a pair of hands reached around me and caressed my breasts. Someone leaned into me and planted a kiss right between my sweaty shoulder blades. It as a woman; I could feel her hair cascade across my back. The mystery woman continued to palm my tits while she leaned in further to kiss my father over my shoulder. As quickly as she appeared, she withdrew again. I resumed fucking my dad.

I felt a weight shift on the couch. I looked over to see Beth sitting down beside us. I guess turnabout was fair play; I had sat next to father and watched him fuck her this morning, I could hardly complain that she was now lounging next us, delightedly watching me get the shaft.

What I hadn't imagined was how Beth was dressed—or more specifically, not dressed. Almost exactly as she was this morning, she was wearing my father's bomber jacket, cowboy boots, and nothing else. Her hair was loose now, falling across her shoulders. She must have walked in the front door bare-assed. Hell, she probably drove here that way. She'd leaned back to rest her arms on the back of the sofa, causing the unzipped jacket to open and reveal the swell of her breasts, but not enough to expose her nipples. She crossed her legs, hiding her charms, a tuft of blonde hair the only hint of her pussy. She was a proper portrait of Venus, the cowgirl version, suitable for any museum collection.

While Beth's distraction occupied my thinking mind, my sexual one was free to run rampant. Returning my attention, I realized I was already coming. I was exploding internally, gripped in the vice of my climax. I squeezed my legs together and hugged my father's neck even tighter as the feeling swept through my body. Dad was now holding my ass slightly off his lap with his hands, so he could continue to pump into me while I rode the wave of ecstasy.