The Big Bag

I could not catch my breath, my cock was frozen into a painful pole that I struggled to keep hidden, as I made my way to the office. My cheeks flushed red and I felt dizzy, afraid, embarrassed.

What the hell had I done?

**********************

THE WHEEL TURNS

The entire day I was in fear of the evening, of Cala coming home and what I could possibly say. What would she tell Lisa? My fantasies had taken me over a cliff, I was racing with the bulls down Spanish streets, going wild. Too wild. Found myself watching for her during lunch, my heart beating with a skip which reverberated in the unusually warm weather. It was all so surreal. My hands could not stop trembling, and I looked at my hands which had so softly slid up and down the thighs of my little girl.

And I had no idea what to say to her.

But the issue never arose. She came home in the same outfit, the same large bag, but not wearing the sunglasses. It was as if she became someone else entirely. It had not even been her. Never really happening at all.

I had already had two gin and tonics to muster the courage to ask, "Did you have a good day?" And it was all I could muster. She recounted her teachers, her excitement at a program they were planning for later in May. Some things happening with her friend Stephanie. She was excited about the new school. It was as if the morning had not happened at all.

I allowed myself to paper over the indiscretion, except....except that it HAD happened and I was still an emotional wreck, whose need for sexual release had never been higher. I also allowed it to happen AGAIN the following day, and the day after. Each morning leaving the house, Cala walking by my side in her little outfits and her big bag, making small talk as we walked and waited for the bus. My heart pounding by her side. Cala in those glasses, slipping in the ear buds of her smartphone, boarding the bus and sliding in next to me.

She could sit elsewhere, leave those glasses in her bag. Ride with her friends. Anything.

Instead, I perceived each day as a new tacit permission.

*******************

WHAT CALA FELT

Cala lay in bed feeling melancholy.

The entire week had put her into such a state of confused arousal. She lay in bed wearing nothing but a T shirt, letting her fingers drift down, tucking them between her legs and opening up her nicely trimmed little kitty. This had been her morning routine every morning each day this week. Hmmmmm. It all felt so good. So unexpected, so wrong, so stupid.

Her life had been turned upside down along with everyone else. She was attending a new school she loved (though as a first year senior), but it had all happened in the midst of her parents divorce. It's really the worst thing emotionally. She had made friends, but given all the drama in her life was unable, or uninterested in relationships with any of the boys. It had left her extremely frustrated, lonely, self pitying; and, in light of the last week - vulnerable.

She petted her dark kitty, spreading her legs wide, lifting a knee and stroking more firmly. Stroking her pink wet center. So...she felt melancholy.

That was it. But why?

Maybe because the 'boy' giving her pleasure right now, that was feeding into her desires for more, was impossible. Worse, it could not be acted on. It could get out of control. Seriously out of control. Maybe it exposed how needy she was, how hard to process her feelings. How bad she felt for her dad, the pain she knew he felt. Was that why she let it happen? Only partly. How horrible this past year had been, and through it all how he'd been there for her.

She was, even now, touching herself while imagining his hand there.

What to do with these obsessions?

--

Feeling the desire rising, thinking, 'I let him.'

Every day this week, I let him touch me. Hmmmm. I could not have stopped if I tried. Why? Who does this?

I liked it, my body, to be desired, to feel sexy. I've been so lonely. Too much going on inside. It's just wild.

But frustrating.

Where could this go anyway? Nowhere. Ugh, imagining his hands feels so fucking good. When did he start having these sexy thoughts about me?

Would I let him?

---

Cala was now squeezing her nipples with one hand, and drawing a lazy circle over her clit with the other. These morning (and evening) sessions did not help, she'd been cumming over and over, but it did feel good. Gave her release. Something she needed, they both needed this, it seemed. Her body was always aroused. Hungry for touch.

She wished she could meet someone 'like him' somewhere, that she did not know him. An older man, a stranger. Obviously, to be not related. A stranger, he felt like a stranger on the bus, that was part of it. The problem, why she let it happen. But this did have to stop, and it made her sad. She knew he was messed up, had not adjusted to everything that was happening. She was angry at her mother for creating all these unmet needs. Sad. We are sad, and needy.

A broken family. Were they trying to put some of the pieces back together?

But none of this helps today, now, this morning. Should I let him do it again? Knowing she would.

It made her ache just thinking about it, and she could feel her arousal rise, as she undulated on the bed rubbing herself harder. He was so close right now, right in the other room. She could go in there. But she couldn't. Only on the bus, he was so normal otherwise. How can he be so compartmental?

She began to wonder if she could tease him, arouse him at other times. Could she? In the evening, just like her thoughts of walking into the bedroom. But it terrified her. Go in there, only her nightshirt, nothing else. Crawl under the covers with him. His smell and the warmth of his body.

Cala's fantasies began to flutter through her, pictures of what might happen. His hands on her breasts, a lingering kiss. Looking at her, walking in and lifting her top, letting him see. Lying in bed with him, one image after another, as she touched herself.

---

I don't want to have sex with him.

Do I?

It isn't about sex. We need each other, we need something beyond ordinary. To be Close. To feel the other. Love. Love is sometimes physical, at least a little.

We've gone through the same things, the same losses, the same fear. Our touches are like dressings on these wounds we both have. A little more than a hug, a hug would be alright?

Does this make us lovers?

And these images passing, his hands tingling between my legs.

Oh god, so good.

Was this possible?

-----

The images began again, Cala could give encouragement. Hints around the house, innuendo. Flirty smiles, be a naughty girl. What he was doing to her in reverse. Her fingers flew over her pussy, sliding quickly in a sideways motion. Ugh. Ugh. Uh. Catching her clit. Her hips trembling, her body on fire.

Sighs filling her lungs, as tears filled her eyes. She was opening her legs wider. Picturing her small hands, holding her skirt above her waist, looking at the ceiling, letting him see between her legs. "You can touch me daddy, do anything you want," she cooed to no one. His hand between her legs. "Oh, yes, touch me. Touch me." Her body shivering, trembling,

His cock in her mouth. Oh god! Sucking him. His hands pulling her hair. "Fuck, me."

Oh god, as a delicious orgasm waved through her body. Her body writhing and trembling on her bed. She lay with the sheet down below her hips, her nightshirt up above her breasts, laying there and running her hands over her body. Powdery smooth. Imagining what she really wanted.

What she really wanted?

To lay in bed with him. To just hold him for a whole night, nothing else. It does not have to be sexual. To feel his arms, to feel safe, sexy. Unable to see, just the darkness. Skin to skin, to be naked with him.

Just the night, one night. To reach and feel him, aroused, hard. His cock.

Oh my. She squeezed her tits.

----

Arousal rising all over again.

To touch our bodies together. It is innocent. It's nothing, I am a woman, growing hair between my legs, sensitive breasts. My smell. I get wet, nothing to fear,

I could let him inside me. MMmmmm.

Open my legs, let him see me. Ahhhhh. The tip of his cock in my womb. My tits pressed to his chest. Oh, Christ.

That ache.

Why do I feel like this?

-----------------------

She sighed and sat up. Nothing resolved, kicking the sheet away and pulling the little nightshirt over her head, stepping naked into her bathroom, and then showered and dressed,

She always wore tights for dance, it was the first class in the morning. She loved the feel, skin tight, the way she could move. It's what she loved about dance, her body felt so free when it could move so lightly. That was it. The lightness of her body, and she loved the feel of the cool morning air on her skin. It often felt like wearing nothing at all. This morning she opened her panty drawer, staring at the colors, and didn't take out a pair. She left them. Instead, she pulled on a pair of white tights, without any panties; looked at herself in the mirror with her skirt tugged up over her hips. Turning, she could see the crack of her ass through the tights. Mmmmm. Getting wet all over again. From the front her cute little dark bush utterly visible. And no bra either! Her breasts held in the fabric of her dress, no bra.

Naughty.

Sexy. Feeling extra sexy, extra hungry.

So what? He's going to try again today.

Her daddy was waiting now, they were leaving. Her little tights, no panties, the cotton dress, no bra. Fuck she felt positively wicked.

She could feel her heart fluttering as they left, eying him. Could feel herself melt inside, feel the wetness of her pussy. She put on her sunglasses, she felt brave in them.

Go ahead.

Touch me.

*******************************

SURPRISE

She walked out the front of the house in those glasses, those fucking glasses. A spring in her step, not looking at me. Her large bag, and already the ear buds in, listening to music. She settled in next to me, and sat close, very close. Twirling her hair in her finger. Her leg sliding along mine.

Permission?

Hell, eagerness.

My hand finding her thigh, the whole indiscretion feeling almost ordinary.

Reaching, rubbing between her legs, running along her thighs, feeling her relax into my touch. The feeling was electric between us. If felt as if she had been waiting. I was moving over her, soft caresses, and running my hands higher, up along her hips.

One line in the sand I had maintained was to touch her in a manner which could not be considered 'sexual.' I avoided touching too near her crotch, or too low over her abdomen, or too near her breasts. Any overtly sexual touching. I came close, too close, but I maintained this rationalization of propriety by only touching her legs, side, hips, tummy. Oddly, I had been using her panties as a guide, the panty line across her middle. The line not passed as I rubbed her body. They became my line in the sand.

But today, as I stroked my hand up along her hip and over her tummy, it was not there! My Cala was not wearing panties? Suddenly, so suddenly, my heart burst at the realization. This being an especially powerful erotic fetish of mine. She continued to tug her bag over her lap, covering my indiscretions, and ignoring me as I ran my hand over her, once, twice, three times across her hip and over her tummy. Double and triple checking. It was then I detected a light smile turn the corners of her mouth. She, knowing I had discovered my bad little girls secret. It was too much!! Today she had on those high boots, a little black dress, impossibly thin tights and no panties!

Fuck!

The encounter passed into another realm, as my hunger went where it had not before. My cock stiffened immediately, and I felt myself go warm.

I reveled in running my hand over her tummy and drifting lower, lower than I ever had, in the absence of that line where her panties should be. Across her hips, over her abdomen, and then above her waist. I had never touched her above the waist either. I ran my hand up her side under her arms. My mind perhaps checking, if no panties then...No bra either! What could this possibly mean? Cala sat nearly perfectly still, and turned her back a little to me as my hand rose up her side, covering my hand with her arm. It was all the invitation I needed, as I let my fingers brush over the thin material of her top, grazing the soft flesh of her breasts. Fuck! No bra. She dropping her chin at my touch and scooting still closer. As I squeezed I detected a light sigh from her, the first audible indication of what I had been doing. Her chin low, not facing me.

She was so close to me now that I could feel her body heat against me, and her warmth. I ran my hand over her tummy and held her there, feeling her breath, letting my fingers dip lightly between her hips, low into that delicious V between her hips. My hand rubbing lower still, feeling the mound of her little puss and the soft fur of her pussy hair beneath the fabric of her dress. At my touch along the ridge of her little puss, her hand landed over mine, and held me there firm. The first time she moved to stop me, not to remove my hand, but to hold me where it was, right over the top of her little pussy. The tips of my fingers able to feel the ridge of her pussy mound pressed into the V of her abdomen. I did not move at all.

So many firsts!

She ran her little fingers over the back of my hand, holding me, squeezing me, touching me. Her soft hand caressing the back of my hand skin to skin, pressing me to her body.

And that was how we rode the rest of the way that day.

**********************

BETRAYAL

The week was over, and Cala and Mark were leaving for their mother's.

They left on Friday nights and were gone until the following Friday. This week would be excruciating. Cala, rising from her seat on Friday turned and waved a little wave, "Bye daddy, see you next week," as I was extricating my hands from her.

Now the interesting thing about my mind wandering into all these fantasies, obsessions, and taboo behaviors, is that the beneficiary of these escapades had became my ex wife.

On this day, my libido had literally exploded, and I needed a fuck. The week had me in a state I had never felt in my life. I needed my cock inside a sweet little, brunette pussy. I managed to resist on Friday evening, what with their being with their mother the first evening they would all be doing something together. But on Saturday, I could no longer resist. So I called. Which, in itself, is unusual.

That afternoon I had signaled my intent with an unusually intimate phone call to my ex wife. I asked "Can I come over?" My intent unmistakable, my voice a deep rumble of arousal.

"What, here at the house?"

"If that's alright."

She did not answer, except to say with a slight purr in her voice. "But the kids are here this week."

"Are they there now?" Knowing they were not, they were seldom in on Saturdays until late in the evening, and I had made sure to call early.

"Well, no." A pause at her end of the line. The wheels turning.

"I need you little girl." I practically groaned.

The pause at the end of the line, and then her voice whispering, "It has to be right now!"

--

I have keys to the house, but today I knocked. It's the polite thing to do when you have come to the house to fuck your ex wife. She answered, and my kiss removed all doubt of my intentions, my hand wandering over her ass and tits.

"What has gotten into you? You are playful tonight!" My little Lisa cooed. She had no idea. She pulled me inside, "We haven't got a lot of time."

By the time I had her under the covers, Lisa had turned out the light with the sun sending slanting rays into the room. We rolled in together and met at the middle, our naked bodies making tentative contact.

"Mmmmm, sweet little girl," I said holding her to me feeling our bodies sliding together, "What I want is to fuck you right now." I leaned up on my elbows in the bed and began turning her away, her bottom bending toward me as I pulled the covers back. I wanted to see that ass, and a little dirty cunt.

She laughed, "So bad!" she squealed as I pushed her face into the pillow.

"Lets just say spring is in my blood today, that's the kind of day...oh, god!" I beheld her as she lifted her ass up before me, parting her legs and exposing that little clam shell between legs. Her sweet little cunt opening into a pink shining line as she pushed her knees into the mattress, that unmistakable brunette bush. Her hole quivering and gaping. The top of her thighs opening to her pussy. Fuck, I wanted her. Cala, fuck. Fuck yes. My fantasies arising, I was imagining Cala on the bus, coming home, coming home with me, opening her legs....

She was looking back at me, enjoying the look of lust in my eyes, her hair already wild. She cooed out, "OK, well, Fuck Me."

In that moment, in that light, my fantasies came to life. My mystery woman in the dark glasses, my little girl. I had torn her tights down, her words were so hungry, this feline before me, crouching down on her elbows like a cat. As she said 'fuck' her ass found my cock, and I could feel my hardness slip right in between her thighs, her slick pussy opening and I let my cock settle between her lips, pulling back hard and finding her, a nice push - aaahhhhh - feeling her open around my cock. Squeezing inside! Opening, nice and tight around me. Oh, fuck, God, those thighs I had been dreaming of all day. My illicit fantasies coming to life. She was already so wet, slick and slippery. Her sex hungry for a fuck, so open, wet, and I imaged the feeling of my Cala's pussy as I stroked her thighs, tugging her hips against me sinking so deep, the feeling of wetness enveloping my cock, squeezing me as I touched her.

"Mmmm. Babe! Wow. You're a hungry girl too." I growled. Imagining my daughter, touching her, violating her. Holding myself against her hips, my memory of running my hands over her thighs, rubbing between her legs. Picturing my Cala on the bus. What would she let me do? Would she let me do it again?

Lisa was whimpering with each thrust, "It's ugh, been ahh, awhile. Mmmmmm."

I gripped her hair and pulled her head back, loved her long dark hair, holding her as I rode her. "You bad little girl, you get punished for being so bad. Letting your daddy in the house like this."

Lisa was taking it, pushing back against me and moaning. "I'm sorry for being so bad, what you going to do?"

I was drawing my length out and squeezing it in, "Fuck you...Fuck you. Bad girls get fucked." Each moan, a deep guttural drive as I plunged inside. She was pressed into the bed and I followed her down, Oh ... god. So tight. She squeezed her legs together, my thrusts pressing into her, as I thrust harder she opened her legs wide. Letting me slide deep inside. Oh so fucking good. I nuzzled my face into her hair and began chewing her neck, breathing in her ear. I knew how she loved that, this sexy little girl.

So good, it felt so good and as she began to press back against me again, I rolled off and fell onto my back. My cock still hard and hungry, shiny with her juices, she turned herself and got up onto her knees, straddling me, her favorite position. I loved looking at her full breasts, her wide hips. Her bush matted with juices. We knew our bodies and play well, our dance. I, realizing how much like Lisa my Cala would look, imagining her naked body above me, the cascade of hair around her shoulders. Lithe and languid, hungry little hips. Imagining her legs spread wide. It would be so much the same. She leaned down over me on all fours, and lay herself down slowly letting her breasts lay on my chest and holding her ass up, put her mouth to my ear. "Mmmm, I found a little cock here." As the hairs of her pussy brushed over my hard cock. "Mind if I sit down? Just for a little minute? Your little girl wants to sit on her daddy's lap." The words stirring me like she could not imagine.