My Father's Second Wife

In a moment—that sudden moment when you understand something—I knew why I was here. I knew what this meant.

Yesterday, I was his daughter.

This morning, I was his whore.

Today, I was his employee.

Tonight, I was his fantasy.

I was perfectly content to stand there. In fact, I wish I could have frozen this moment for all time. No matter what else happened in my life, I would have this.

Soft music began to play.

On cue, father rose and slowly walked towards me, as if any sudden movement would startle this wild creature. He was wearing a tuxedo. It was black with charcoal grey lapels. He sported a stiff white shirt and bow tie. His shiny patent leather shoes crunched softly as he approached.

Soon he was standing within inches of me, eclipsing the light of the fire. I could almost feel an electric charge building between us.

He reached across with his left hand and gingerly lifted my left hand. He placed it on his right shoulder. He then reached out and took my right hand in his left and held it to the side. Finally, he placed his right hand on my bare left hip.

He took a small step to my right, pulling my arm and gently applying pressure to my hip. I stepped with him, then to the left, and again to the right. We were dancing—the dapper man and the golden girl.

The jazz music was soft, but easy to follow. It was a simple two-step, nothing fancy, just two bodies swaying from side to side in time to the music.

We looked into each other eyes; mine a whirl of metallic makeup, his dark and strong. We were dancing closer now. My nipples would occasionally brush against his lapel; the hem of his jacket would lightly touch my thigh.

He stepped even closer. Now my breasts were pressing against his jacket, my hips against his trousers. I could feel his cock stiffening in his pants, firm against my naked mound.

He took his hand off of my hip and wrapped his arm behind my back, pulling me in even closer. I could feel his belt buckle through his cummerbund. He'd brought my other hand in close and was now pressing his left arm tight against my right side. Our heads were resting on each other's shoulder. He was crushing me against him, as if to keep me from flying away on my wings.

We were no longer dancing, as much as just rocking together. This went on until the music finished. Another song did not start. We stopped rocking and he held me still in the silent evening air.

After a while, my father slowly loosened his clutch, withdrawing his arms and released my hand. He took a couple steps back. A girl-shaped outline of copper makeup and glitter was imprinted on his tux.

Previously unnoticed theater lights came on, flooding the fire pit in blue, green, red, and yellow light. It overwhelmed the light of the fire, which now looked dark. It overwhelmed the stars. I turned my head and shaded my eyes with my hand as I adjusted to the glare. The world beyond the circle fell into an inky darkness.

Two girls walked out of this curtain of shadows. They were identically dressed in body suits that started at their ankles and ended at their necks, leaving only their head, hands, and feet bare. The material was sheer, like smoke colored pantyhose. It slightly obscured everything, but hid nothing. I could discern every anatomical feature of their bodies. Both had dark hair in tight buns, were about the same height, and had small breasts with dark nipples. Their abdomens were toned; their arms and legs were sinewy, with well-developed muscles that could be easily seen through the sheer material. They looked like dancers.

They came from opposite directions and took up stations at either side of my father. They immediately began to undress him. They removed his jacket and tie, then knelt down and untied his shoes. One girl removed one shoe and sock, and then the other repeated the process. The first girl stood back up and began unbuttoning his shirt, while the other remained kneeling, removing the cummerbund and unbuckling his belt and pants. He shrugged off his shirt and stepped out of his trousers. The girls tossed his clothes off stage, because that what this had become.

Now the roles were reversed. He was naked and I was in costume.

My father was still a handsome man. He had strong, ropy, muscles that were sharply defined, nothing flabby or soft. His thighs and biceps, especially, were much more massive than his business suits let on. There were small amounts of hair here and there. He obviously shaved his private parts, but hair on the rest of body was naturally sparse.

The girl kneeling on the ground moved right in front of my dad, directly between us. She placed her hands on the front of his bare thighs. She blocked my view of his groin, but her head began undulating with movements that told me she was giving him head.

While that progressed, the other girl approached, walking strait towards me. When she was within arms length, she began to bend at the knees and lean back. But instead of sinking to the ground, she continued walking forwards, like she was doing the limbo. She inserted her knees between my legs. As she went lower, she forced me to spread my legs apart. My legs were at about a 90-degree angle when she fell back on her outstretched arms and crab-walked through my legs. As her head was about to pass through, she stopped and lifted her head slightly.

Her nose touched my pussy briefly, tentatively. Then it pushed up again, parting my outer lips, like a dog nuzzling for attention. She opened her mouth and her lips engulfed my mound. Her tongue separated my inner folds, exploring every tender surface. She continued this, traveling up further each time towards my clit. When she finally arrived it was like an electric shock. She circled it with her tongue, and then went down to my opening again, only to return and repeat the torture. I stood rigid.

I'd never had sex with a woman—not that Kate hadn't offered. (Kate said she was half bi-sexual, because she liked boys half the time and boys and girls the other half.) In any other situation, I probably would have freaked if a woman walked up to me and started eating me out. But at this moment, I was open to any sexual act. It's like when you go to a foreign country and will eat the weirdest shit just because everyone else is.

The girl was now alternating between my clit and actually inserting her strong tongue into my opening. I could feel a climax beginning. I watched as the other girl continued to service my dad. My dad watched me.

My father touched the girl on her head and she immediately pulled away, got up, and came my way. His cock was at full attention. It glistened with the girl's saliva.

The girl walked behind me, signaled to the one attached to me to stop, and pulled her the rest of the way through my legs, disappearing behind me. With my new lover's hot mouth gone, my excited pussy was suddenly exposed to the cool night air. The air burned.

Behind me, the dancers were repositioning themselves. The next thing I knew one of them (I could hardly tell them apart) was backing up through my legs, ass first. When her waist was even with my knees, she pushed up with her legs, lifting me off the ground. I was left straddling her hips, as if I was riding a pony backwards.

The other dancer held my upper arms and leaned me back. I was now inclined about 45 degrees, back to back with the "pony" dancer, my arms held behind me by the other, and my legs dangling on either side of her hips.

My father walked forward and entered me directly, without any hesitation. We were both slick and ready. The strong, persistent, rhythm of his cock renewed my climb toward an orgasm.

Father reached out and placed his hands on my up thrust tits. He held them in his grasp, using them to steady himself. I felt the warmth of the dancer beneath me, hot hands on my arms and breasts, and a fiery poker driving itself over and over towards the core of my body.

The orgasm came like a spasm in my gut. I tried to bend forward, but was held back. Instead, I rocked my pelvis upward, involuntarily, like a moth beating itself against a light.

Dad's pace never varied, but as soon as my orgasm subsided, he pulled out. The "pony" dancer immediately lowered me to the ground and disappeared through my legs, while the other one righted me again.

My father stood there while the dancers came to either side of me. Each took my hand and formed it into a fist. They then wrapped their hands around my fists. Using the other hand, they straightened my elbows, making it clear that I should keep my elbows locked. They then clamped my arms between their arms and their bodies.

In one coordinated movement, the dancers used my straightened arms to lift me off the ground. I was now suspended by my shoulders, my feet dangling in the air. The choreography continued. They reached down with their free hands, behind my legs, and pulled them up, bringing my knees almost up to my chest. Once there, they grabbed the backs of my calves and straightened my legs, sliding their hands down to hold my ankles.

I was now an inverted tripod. My stiff upper body, sandwiched firmly between the arms and bodies of the two dancers, was one third. The other two formed by my legs, now held wide and pointing to the sky. At at the bottom of the apex was a golden vagina, glistening with juice, open, and inviting. I was a flower, my sex organs crouching at the bottom of a lewd display, waiting to be violated by a passing bee.

My father stepped forward, this time reaching out, palms up, to take my proffered ass as if it were a bowl of fruit. The two dancers lifted me slightly, and he literally placed me on his cock. The three then began lifting and lowering me in unison. He, however, was not moving. I was being used to fuck him, like a life-sized doll.

My feathery wings flapped lazily with each lift, my hair undulated like a jellyfish. Our faces were close. I could see the lust on his. I was his fantasy creature, his property, his "thing" to use however it pleased him.

The eroticism of the moment was working. I could feel him getting stiffer inside me. I could hear his breath, deep and steady. I began to hear the breathing of the dancers next to me. The exertion was taking its toll.

This scene didn't last long. On the next lift up, my father hoisted me higher, up and off of his cock. The dancers released my ankles and my legs swung down underneath me again. They lowered me until I was standing on my own.

The dancer to my right placed her hand in the middle of my chest, fingertips lightly touching my breasts. She pushed backwards, urging me to take a few steps back. I did. They turned me around by my shoulders so I was facing away from my father. The dancer on my right then got on her knees directly in front of me. She lithely shimmied forward until her chin touched my sex. I spread my legs to accommodate her. Reaching between my legs, she placed her hands in the small of my back and lifted her upper body. I was now sitting on her upper chest, her hands supporting my back, like we were playing chicken, but backwards.

The other dancer was now behind me. She grasped my upper arms and began pulling me back. As I fell backwards in slow motion, she rolled to the ground and into ball, bringing her legs up underneath me. I was now horizontal, a human table, my hips supported by the shoulders of one dancer and my shoulders and back resting on the legs of the other, my beautiful feathers crushed between us. I looked up into the black sky.

The head between my legs began teasing my already excited pussy. Her tongue flicked my clit, tempting it out of its hood. Then it would flutter down my inner lips and back up again. This sensation was completely different than before. This must be the other girl.

The dancer on her back placed her hands flat on the sides of my head and tilted it back, holding it in position. My dad was upside down. His thick legs were trunks, planted in the ceiling. The trunks began moving towards me. It was like that scene in movies where the protagonist walks directly towards the camera until they fill the frame. My father's legs and scrotum filled my view as his cock pushed into my mouth.

I was an alter: prone, belly up, legs spread, head thrown back, and my mouth open. I couldn't see either of my worshipers, but I felt their need to penetrate me, fuck me, and fill me with their gifts.

The cool air rolled across my exposed stomach, sending chills down my spine. I abandoned myself to the moment. I became a passive receptacle to a cock and a tongue. I couldn't move my head. I simply held my lips tight around his cock and let it slide in and out. I was coming.

My second climax hit me like an electric shock. I convulsed, pulling my knees up, trying to dislodge the bottom girl from my clit. It didn't work. Even with my knees drawn up, she held my hips with her hands and kept her face clamped against my quivering pussy. The waves of the orgasm continued. I cried out, my scream muffled by the cock filling my mouth.

The girl then began to hum into my pussy, the vibration intensifying and prolonging the sensation.

My father had stopped moving, but had not vacated my mouth. I couldn't scream. I couldn't escape. I was trapped in a orgasm that went on and on. When it finally subsided, the relief that it was over was more blessed than any orgasm I'd had at college.

My father pulled out of my face, the humming girl lowered my hips, resting them in her lap, and the girl on her back pushing me upright again.

Humming girl held me as the other girl got off the ground, came around in front of me, took my hands and stood me up. The girl between my legs then got on her hands and knees directly in front me, perpendicular, her back flat. The standing girl helped me climb onto to her. I was now kneeling on the back of the girl, one knee on her shoulders, the other on her hip.

The standing girl now reached around my back. She gently pulled me forwards, causing me to bend at the waist. To keep my balance I had to stick my ass out.

My pussy was now a study in hospitality. It was at the perfect height for a man of my father's stature to walk over and insert his cock into. With my legs slightly spread, it was open and easily accessible. It was already hot and wet. I waited to be entered again, but did not imagine how.

My father entered me abruptly, and the mood instantly changed. He grabbed my hips and thrust in. Not delicately, but with force and conviction. The standing girl held me steady, keeping me from falling off the girl below.

Father's pace increased. The earlier sensation of his cock gilding in and out, like the bow of a violin, was gone. It was replaced with the unbroken drone of a jackhammer. The girl bent forward, dipped her head and tenderly kissed my nipples, first one and then the other. She rubbed her cheek against my bosom, softly, like kitten rubbing catnip.

Now my dad was pounding into to me, hard. My ass rippled with each impact, my breasts bouncing, the bra unable to constrain them.

He let go of my hips and grabbed the back of my bra. He twisted it, turning it into a handle. The bra cut cruelly into my sides, the straps digging deep into my shoulders. He thrust even harder. This was not pleasant. I was being raped.

My tits were bouncing so violently that the girl couldn't kiss them any more. She buried her head between them, her cheeks pressing against my flesh, still clutching my arms. I could feel her breath on my sternum. It was compassionate and supportive, as if she was trying to tell me that it would be over soon and everything would be OK.

It was soon over. My father exploded into me, his spasm driving his cock even further into my womb, bruising my organs. His hips raised up taking me with them. I was being lifted off of the kneeling girl by his impaled cock. The standing girl held me tight.

Slowly he lowered his hips again, my weight settling back onto the girl. His cock continued to spasm deep inside. His grip on my bra relaxed. His hands and legs lost their tension. I could breath again. When everything was finally still, he pulled out. I was empty.

The standing girl helped me off. My legs were weak. The two girls each took a hand, turned me around, and stood on either side of me, ready to catch me if I fell. My exquisite makeup was smudged and distorted. The feathers were broken, one side hung down, dangling over my ass. My skin was patches of smears and hand prints where I'd been grasped, streaks of skin showing where the body paint had been completely rubbed away. My pussy was still vibrating. One bra strap hung limply across my arm. A tear rolled down my cheek. "When had I cried?" I thought to myself.

My father came to me. He took my face in both hands and leaned in. He kissed me on the lips. A strong, deep, tender kiss. It was a lover's kiss. He held the kiss for a long time.

His lips left mine. His hands fell away from my face. He turned and walked naked into the darkness.

The two girls helped me lay down on the flagstone. I lay there, sweaty and sore, utterly spent. The lights went out. Everything was dark. As my eyes slowly adjusted, I could see the stars reappear, the last embers of the bond fire glowing in the night. I closed my eyes.

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I awoke awhile latter. I was shivering, my hands and feet felt frozen. I was naked, outside, at night. The air was chilly now; the stone circle was a sheet of ice against my back. I sat up. The girls were gone. I could see a faint light coming from the house. I got up and ran towards it, hugging myself, trying to hold in what little warmth I still had.

The light revealed itself to be a trail of squat candles. I followed them into the house. The air was warmer here. They led me down the hall and up the stairs toward my room. My broken feathers dangled behind me as I walked.

The candles didn't extend all the way to my room. They stopped at my bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, disclosing a thin sliver of the light within.

I pushed it open. The two makeup artists were there, along with the two dancers, all patiently waiting. They all stood as I entered. The two dancers were now naked, their body suits discarded. They had showered. I saw angry scraps on their knees and elbows. One looked like it could have been bleeding, but had been tended to.

The group circled me and led me to the dressing stool. The makeup girl began removing the ruin of my face, while the two dancers unhooked my bra and used sponges to wipe off the body paint. The hairdresser's nimble fingers began untying each bundle of hair, extracting the ribbons as she worked.

I watched the reverse of my previous transformation in the mirror. The ravaged goddess was fading away, replaced again by a human girl.

In short order, the fantasy had been erased. One of the dancers started the shower, while the other one helped me stand. They stepped into the shower with me. Four hands began soaping my body. One then took to cleaning me with a shower scrub, while the other shampooed my hair.

When they were finished, I was fresh again. The glow of my skin, this time, was my own.

They led me out of the shower. The other two were gone, along with every trace that they had been here. The dancers toweled me off where I stood. Once dry, they quickly dried themselves.

Each holding one hand, the three of us walked naked out of the bathroom. The trail of candles now stretched from my bathroom to my bedroom. We followed the path. My bed was stripped down to its sheets, a soft down comforter folded up at the foot. The only light was the candles.

They tenderly helped onto the bed, laid me in the very center, face up, and placed a pillow under my head. The pillow felt good. They went to the foot, grabbed an edge of the comforter, and brought it up and over the bed, causing it billow and sail before it settled gently around me.