My Father's Second Wife Ch. 03

I don't know how long this went on. I felt warm, both from the body between my legs and the drink. I drifted, letting her hands roam where they wanted to and her lips to kiss what tender spots they could find.

I must have drifted off for a moment. I opened my eyes to see her face mere inches from my nose. Her dress was gone. Her ample breasts hovered above me. Her hips were now pressing into mine. She was tilting her pelvis forward and back, in a rocking motion, grinding her venus into mine. "Oh Jesus," I thought. "I'm being dry humped by a lesbian."

As she rocked to and fro, her breasts would occasionally brush across mine. They were soft, comforting. There was no urgency to her movement. It was like sitting on the beach letting the waves languidly wash over you, again and again.

She saw me staring at her. She lowered her head and kissed me on the lips—my other lips. Everything about Diane was soft and soothing, like warm milk and fuzzy slippers. Her breasts now pressed against mine. I could almost feel my nipples poking into her pliant flesh.

After an eternity, she broke the kiss. Her big change up was to subtly switch from a vertical rocking motion to making slow circles with her hips, like some horny hula girl. I could feel my pussy being pushed around, like bread dough being kneaded. I felt her clit ring, dangling between her legs, playfully tickling me.

I don't know if it was the drink, or if I'd just gotten tired of women licking my twat, but I opened my mouth and said, "I kind of like cock."

Diane stopped moving. At that moment I realized two things. First, I was not tired of women licking my twat, because as soon as she stopped I wanted her to continue. I also realized that I can sometimes be a fucking bitch.

What I said was pointlessly mean, cruel, insensitive, and mean. Did I mention mean? I wanted to take it back. But if I had that mental capacity, I wouldn't have said it in the first place.

Oddly, Diane didn't seem that offended. A little crestfallen, but the fact that she wasn't slapping my face seemed a small miracle. She surprised me by kissing my cheek and saying, "Well, if that's what you want..."

She let the sentence trail off as she got off of me and walked into the next room, the soft lighting making her shapely bottom glow. I dropped my head back onto the pillow and said to myself, "Char, you're such a cunt."

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I don't know how long I laid there. I opened my eyes to see Diane standing in front of me. Well, it looked like Diane. It had Diane's face and hair, her bountiful bosom, her toned waist, her gently-curved hips, and her black dick.

"What the fuck?" I spat, staring at the thick black penis standing straight out from where her pussy had been. How long had I been out? Did Diane get a sex change operation while I was asleep? And why was it black?

"I mean, what the fuck?" I said again. Changing the intonation, like that would make the statement clearer. Diane just smiled, stroking her ebony phallus. "I understand," Diane said sympathetically, "sometimes a girl needs what a girl needs." She continued to stroke her dick.

I placed my hands behind me and tried to sit up a little, unsuccessfully. I muttered the beginnings of questions, "where ... how ... what?" without finishing any of them.

Diane had a puzzled expression, clearly trying to anticipate the question I was trying to ask. Her face relaxed when she realized the source of my consternation. "Oh, I guess you've never seen one of these," she said.

Stepping to the side with one foot, Diane spread her legs. She grabbed the black cock with both hands and gently pulled down. She slowly extracted it from her pussy, which I could now see was intact. "Oh, thank god you didn't lose your vajayjay," I slurred, in honest relief. Diane laughed at that.

When she finished taking it out, she held it in front of me for inspection. The main part was a black dildo, in the realistic shape of a black man's cock. Which, I've come to learn, are the same shape as a white man's cock just, you know, black. There were no balls. Where a base or handle would be on a regular dildo, it took a sharp turn and formed an elongated bulb, about half the length of the cock part.

"It's a strapless dildo," Diane explained, without me asking. Once she was satisfied, I understood the concept, she repositioned the bulb between her legs and slipped it back into herself. When the neck of the bulb disappeared, she drew her legs together and stood, once again, completely naked—with the addition of an erect penis.

"Chicks can have dicks too," she said with a smile as she pressed my knees apart and positioned her new manhood at my opening. Her dick was glistening with lube. Diane's clit ring was perched on top of it, as if the thing was wearing a tiny diamond crown. "Here comes King Willy," I thought to myself.

Holding her legs tightly together, she clenched the dildo with (what I assumed are) strong muscles, leaned forward, and pressed her cock into me.

The dildo wasn't thick, but it was long. It seemed like Diane was sinking further and further into me, and there was still more to go. When her hips finally pressed against mine, she started to pull back, and the familiar rhythm of sex ensued.

Once I got over the initial shock of Diane's weird contraption, and the idea of being physically fucked by a woman, I actually started to enjoy myself. Diane's lovemaking didn't switch gears just because she was working with different equipment. She maintained the same, gently swaying, pace she used when we were pussy-to-pussy. I put my hands on her waist, urging her to stay in me.

My brain had not entirely come to grips with the situation. There were just too many contradictions. The illusion of being boy-fucked was reinforced by the couch's upholstery—I'm used to getting banged anywhere but in bed—and there was the long lovely shaft sliding deep inside me. But my hands were caressing a woman's waist, a woman's hips, a woman's ass. A woman's soft curls were undulating above me, like seaweed. A woman's breasts were bobbing with each thrust, right in front of my face.

Fuck my brain. I don't care if it could "figure it out" or not. This was nice. Diane was nice. I lifted my chin up and kissed her. Diane returned the kiss. I think I was a little in love.

Diane slowed and pulled out. The expression on my face was one of pain and betrayal. Diane's smile assured me it was not. She grabbed a pillow and placed is crosswise on couch. Taking one hand, she pulled me up and over. I fell across the pillow and was now laying prone on the couch, with the pillow under my hips, my ass propped up in the air.

Diane deftly maneuvered behind me, and I again felt her cock push its way back inside me. I immediately giggled at the words "her cock," two words I wouldn't have put together before tonight.

Diane's thighs bumped against my ass with each stroke. She certainly knew her way around a good fuck. "Bloody hell," I thought to myself. "Diane is better at fucking girls with cocks than the owners of most cocks."

I almost didn't notice my orgasm when it came. I felt it build. I felt it slowly ebb away. I felt Diane slow, then stop, and finally remove her cock. I felt her place a loving kiss on my tailbone.

Diane sat down on the floor next to me and rested her head on my shoulder. She had removed the dildo and was once again returned to the fairer sex. We were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. No words were spoken.

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Some time passed.

Diane had risen and was removing my shoes. I was suddenly being man-handled into a sitting position. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to move. I just wanted to sleep.

Diane was having none of it. She took both hands and pulled me into a standing position. My dress was still bunched up around my waist. Diane resolved that. Grabbing the hem, she pulled it up and off in one motion. I wanted to protest, but I wasn't sure about what. Now we were both completely naked.

Taking my hands again, she led me towards the back of her apartment. Like a petulant child, I followed. Soon I found myself in a large grotto of an open shower stall. Two sides were faced in grey slate. One wall was a tinted window that looked out over the city. Diane and I soaped off the sweat and the smell of the bar.

Diane was wiping between my legs and I started laughing. Diane asked why. "No sticky cum to clean up, that's nice," I said. Diane laughed too.

We dried off and Diane led me, still naked, to her bed. It was a massive King-sized affair with a wild floral comforter and creamy sheets. I couldn't wait to crawl in. Diane did not discourage me. We tumbled, bare ass, into it. Diane pulled a soft cotton sheet up to cover us both. I laid back, exhausted and still inebriated. Diane kissed me on the lips, said, "Goodnight, Charlotte Grant," and turned out the lights.

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I opened my eyes. They wouldn't focus. I could tell by the brightness of the blur that it was dawn. My head ached, the familiar aftermath of too much alcohol. I knew if I waited long enough, my eyes would eventually catch up.

They did. I was still in Diane's bed. I was on my side facing Diane, who was on her side facing away from me. The sheet had pulled down slightly during the night. I admired the curve of Diane's neck, tracing a line from her neck to her shoulder and arm. Underneath her arm was a swell of breast, just above the edge of the sheet. I wanted to smell her hair. I wanted to scoot closer and spoon with her. I reached over and lightly caressed her bare hip and ass. Diane stirred. I liked the way her warm hand cupped my breast.

"Hand!" screamed the voice in my head, "Who's hand is that?" I tried to sit up and scramble to the headboard for safety, as if the bed was suddenly full of spiders, while simultaneously brushing away the mystery hand groping my tit.

Once I managed to sit up, I found the source of the intruding digits. The strawberry blonde from the pictures was laying on the other side of me.

"Who the fuck are you?" I asked, bluntly.

I always wondered why people asked the obvious in situations like these. You walk in on two teenagers, naked as the day they were born, going at it like rabbits and you say, "What's going on here?" Dumb.

The girl calmly propped herself on her elbow, causing her naked breasts to wobble slightly. She was a little less busty than Diane. Her skin tone was lighter, and her nipples were small, dark, and sharp. She looked like a marble statue that someone had drawn in the naughty bits with a felt-tip marker.

"Since you're the one I find naked in my bed, fondling my wife's ass, I'm pretty sure that's my line," she said, with nary a hint of sarcasm. I couldn't read any expression, but she was clearly waiting for a response. I had nothing.

The commotion had woken Diane, who had turned to face us. "This is Charlotte Grant," she said, wiping the sleep from her eye. "Charlotte, this is Victoria, my wife," she said to me.

Victoria reached out her left hand—she was still using her right elbow for support. I awkwardly took it and we shook hands. I don't know how one greets the naked wife of the lesbian one fucked around with the previous evening, but I was pretty sure a handshake wasn't adequate.

Victoria seemed to pick up on the incongruity as well. She abruptly withdrew her hand and pushed herself up onto her knees. I could now see that Victoria was also naked and cleanly shaven. Instead of a clit ring, Victoria sported a diamond stud in her belly button. I could also tell she had some runic symbols tattooed on her inner thighs, but it was the wrong angle to tell what—and not the right time to ask about them.

She stilt-walked forward on her knees and threw her arms wide open. "Give me a hug," was all she said.

Unable to think of anyway to get out of this, I tentatively leaned forward. As soon as I was within striking distance, she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into an enthusiastic embrace, one hand on a shoulder while the other found my hip. Cheeks, breasts, and pelvic bones were pressed together like a grilled cheese sandwich. Her skin was cool. Her hair covered my face.

She held me close and said, "If Di brought you into our bed, you must be a very special person. I hope we become great friends." Diane joined in and it became a group hug. Diane and Victoria kissed each other like I wasn't there.

Our girl-flesh sandwich fell apart spontaneously and all of the tension was gone. Victoria said, "Sorry I missed out last night." At me specifically, she asked, "Did you make my lover happy?"

I didn't know how to answer that. Diane rescued me. "Charlotte hasn't progressed that far," she said cryptically. "She's still exploring new territory." I couldn't have agreed more. I've spent a lot of time on Mars, recently visited Venus, and last night took a tour of Saturn.

Victoria arched an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued. She asked, "So you're new to the Sapphic arts? Well, you couldn't have a better teacher." I noticed that Victoria was now actively checking me out, which was pretty easy to do since I was still naked and only about a foot away.

Diane said, "Vic's working the night shift at the hospital, which is why our evening was as lonely as it was. She's going to transfer to the day shift soon, isn't that right, sweetie?"

Victoria sat back on her heals and shot back, "Di, you know I have a least another six months on night shift before I can transfer. Will you give it a rest? I don't like it anymore than you do."

Oh, yes, these two were definitely married.

So there we were, three naked woman in one bed—engulfed in one awkward silence.

Trying to change the subject, I hesitantly said, "I'm not sure what time it is, but I think Diane and I need to get to the office soon."

Relieved to avoid the subject, Victoria flashed me a brilliant smile and said, "And I need to get some sleep!" With that, she threw herself onto the mattress and pulled the sheet over her head. When we didn't move, her muffled voice commanded, "Well, go on then. I'll never get any sleep with your two fine asses in here."

Diane rolled out of bed, grabbing my arm and dragging me along with her. She shared her makeup with me, and I did what I could with my hair. It looks like I was going into the office in my very short cocktail dress. I was already preparing for some biting comment from Margo.

Diane, of course, had her complete wardrobe and donned a knee-length fitted dress with black, full-length sleeves. The body was a coppery silk with a thin lace overlay of red flowers and green vines. It was stunning. She matched it with a pair of green pumps with red soles.

Diane made coffee. I was finishing my cup as she snuck back into her bedroom. I peeked around the corner. She bent down and kissed Victoria tenderly. Victoria, still awake asked, "Charlotte Grant. Any relation to your boss?" Diane whispered something I couldn't hear.

Victoria exclaimed, "You naughty girl! Sleeping with the boss' daughter! I have a mind to spank you."

Diane replied, "Promise?"

"Promise," Victoria answered in a husky voice.

They kissed again.

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After giving me a ride to work, Diane and I parted in the lobby with air kisses. She went to her office and I headed to my dad's office. As usual, Margo was at her desk working through tasks like a well-oiled machine.

As I stepped in, Margo lookup up, took a second to take me in, and then simply asked, "Did you kiss?"

"Did I kiss who?" I responded, trying to be at least a tiny bit evasive.

"Diane, of course" was Margo's observation.

"How did you know?" I asked, dumbfounded. Had Diane already talked to Margo? Did she email her while I was passed out her in bed? The two certainly appear to share every bit of office gossip.

"Duh," Margo said, exasperated with me. "You come into work in the same dress you wore last night, the only person you were with at the bar was Diane, I know for a fact that Diane likes to kiss pretty girls, and you are a pretty girl." Margo threw up her hands as if to finish with a "ta-da!"

I resigned to being that transparent, and nodded my head in agreement.

"So there was kissing then?" Margo pressed.

Again, I nodded. I'm sure was blushing now.

"Was there more than kissing?" Margo said, drawing out the question for effect.

Again, I nodded my head. This time, I felt the flush on my cheeks and knew I was beet red.

Margo clapped her hands together in giddy excitement. "You'll have to tell me all about it. Spare no details!" she demanded. "But for now, we've got work to do."

"About that," I said, managing to find my voice again. I walked over to the desk tugging the hem of the short dress down, again. "I was hoping to run home and change," I pleaded.

"No time," Margo said flatly. "You'll be working mostly in the office today, so it wouldn't matter if you were naked." Margo paused and took another look at my skimpy dress and added, "Which, if I might observe, you're pretty close to now."

Margo was a like having an evil stepsister. She returned her attention to her computer.

Just then, my dad came in from the hall. He must have been at a meeting or something.

Spying me, he exclaimed, "There's my little honeycomb." He strode over and gave me a big hug, which pulled up the dress, revealing the bottom of my ass—again.

He stepped back and looked me up and down. "A little risqué for the office, don't you think?" he asked, with a tilt of his head.

Without looking up from her computer, Margo answered, "Walk of shame," neatly summing up my situation in three words.

This amused my dad. "So," he asked, "I hope you had a pleasant evening at least."

Again, Margo answered for me, bluntly stating, "Diane."

Father was surprised by that, contemplated for a moment, and approved. "It's great that you're making friends, honey." Then with an evil grin he added, "Was there kissing?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I exploded. "You two are terrible. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Yes, there was kissing, and licking, and tickling, and pillow fights! Are you happy now?"

Before I could storm out indignantly, my father grabbed me and kissed the top of my head, just to make sure I knew it was all in good fun. My anger deflated—a little. Margo, for her part, pinched the bottom of my ass check that had escaped again. I pulled my dress down one more time and stomped towards my cubicle.

Just before I exited, I turned back to Margo. "You were wrong about Diane," I said knowingly. "She has a very keen interest in dicks." I put on my most wicked smile and stepped through the door knowing, for the first time, I'd gotten the last word with Margo.

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End of part 3