The Getaway (A D/d Romance)

~*~*~*~

"There's something I never told you," Sara murmured drowsily.

She cuddled naked against him, one hand playing with the hair on his chest, sated and tired, as she looked up at the moon. He had his arm around her and stroked her hair.

"What's that, darling?"

"That night . . . after we kissed . . ."

"Oh, what?"

"I couldn't sleep. I lay awake all night, downstairs, looking at the moon, just like this. I thought, and thought, and thought . . ."

"About what, sweetheart?"

"You. Us. Mom. What I wanted."

Sara curled up into a ball, her eyes on the sky, remembering that long, sleepless night.

"I thought about why I kept myself in the dark for so long. Why I wouldn't admit it. Why I didn't want to know what was happening. And it took me a while, but I realized, eventually, it wasn't because it was wrong."

She curled up tighter, her voice getting dreamy and faraway.

"I can't tell you how weird that was. How . . . strange, and wonderful, it was, to discover that about myself. I didn't care. I didn't care one bit that it was wrong."

"Then why did you avoid it?" John asked.

"Because I was afraid."

"Of what?"

Sara tightened her arms around his stomach. "Of you. Of us. Of this. Nothing else. Just that."

"And. . . mmmmmm . . ." she stopped speaking to rub against him as she felt herself getting wet again. "That was the first time, the very first time, I let myself think about you . . . it was indescribable . . . once I realized that I . . . wanted this . . . it was . . . well, you know," she said, giving him a little kiss.

"Yes . . ."

"And . . . I just knew . . . I knew I wasn't going to end up . . . afraid. I knew I was going to go, all the way."

She held the diamond necklace in her fingers, looking dreamily at the sky. John gazed at her, thinking she had never looked so beautiful.

Sara smiled, and gave him a look. "Does that make me a pervert?"

"Probably," he said, giving her a kiss. "But you're an adorable pervert. Plus I guess that makes me one, too."

"What a perfect day," she murmured.

"Hey," John said, kissing the top of her head. "What do you want to do tomorrow? We have the whole day. . ."

"Hmmm . . . I don't know."

"How about . . . after lunch, you get some prime tanning time in, while I go to town and pick us up something incredible for dinner. . ."

"Mmmmm, perfect . . ."

"Then, we'll do something fun. I don't know, take the boat out?"

"Yes, I'd love that."

"And then, my darling, I want to spend a night with you. . ."

Sara laughed, and cuddled closer to him.

They listened to the lake sounds, for a while, until they drifted off to sleep.

~*~*~

The next day, after a long, late lunch, John drove the fifteen miles to the nearest store, while Sara went to the lake. He picked up a couple of steaks, fresh corn, greens for salad, and strawberries for dessert, and was just about to pay, when he saw a little box of fireworks by the counter. He added some to the pile with a little grin to himself, paid, and drove back.

He found Sara laying on a blanket near the water's edge. She was on her stomach wearing bikini bottoms, and a loosened top with the strings untied. She appeared to be dozing.

John sat down quietly next to her. He found her lotion, squeezed some onto his fingers, and began to rub it into her, starting at her shoulders.

"Mmmmmm . . ."

John laughed at her lazy moan.

"Ok, don't . . . move."

"I don't plan to."

John kissed her shoulder, then continued applying the lotion, occasionally stopping to give her a massage. He worked his fingers into her muscles, circling gently, up her spine.

"Here, I got these for you," he said, handing her the little packet of fireworks.

Sara laughed out loud. "Aw . . . how sweet!"

"Mmmmmm . . . yes, you were . . ."

Sara chuckled and wriggled on the blanket, getting more comfortable under his hands.

"Would you mind . . . a little lower?"

"Not . . .at . . . all, hon."

"It's so beautiful . . ." Sara sighed, looking out at the gorgeous blue sky full of puffy clouds.

"Yes, but, there's a chill. Tonight will be perfect for a fire."

"Yes . . . "

His thumbs found the crack of her ass and pressed at the base of her spine, making her moan.

"A little lower," Sara murmured.

"There?" John said, as he began to gently knead her cheeks.

"Mmmmm. . ."

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"Fireworks," Sara sighed.

John laughed, and leaned over to kiss her neck, sending little tremors of excitement all up and down her spine and back. He nibbled at her earlobe.

"What a bad girl you were, sucking your Daddy's cock like that . . ."

Sara laughed, and flipped over.

"Will you do that tonight, do you think?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Tonight . . . hmmm . . . I don't know. We'll see."

"Oh, really?"

"I'll see if I'm in the mood."

John scooped her up and carried her laughing to the docks.

"We'll see about that," he said, as he kissed her.

~*~*~

They took the boat out in the late afternoon. Sara knew nothing about boating so she just reclined on some cushions and watched him do his thing for a while. He was busy with ropes and levers as they maneuvered a full circle around the vast, deep lake, and Sara curled up as she thought of him, and that last night of vacation a year ago.

It was the July Fourth weekend. It was always a family tradition to have a party and watch the massive fireworks display over the lake. That year the party was going to be huge, with all the relatives and invited friends. There were tents and buffet tables set up, Christmas lights strung on the docks, and bonfires going as soon as it got dark. Kids were running and waving sparklers, and adults were getting loud and tipsy.

She hadn't had a chance to be alone with John in days, not since their kiss. They'd only been able to whisper a few words to each other, in the lake, or on the boat. They planned to "talk," as soon as the vacation was over and they got back home.

But something got into her that evening. She never knew quite what it was. Perhaps it was the wildness and excitement in the air. Perhaps it was all the things she had been thinking. Perhaps it was the danger of everyone else being there. Something made her act, as if it was now or never.

"What?" John said, from the deck of the boat, interrupting her reverie. "You're staring at me."

"Was I?" said Sara. "I was just thinking of the night of the party."

He smiled at her.

"You know I looked for you all night. I just could never get you alone. I wanted to talk."

"I know. But you were always with people."

"Can you do me a favor?" Sara asked him.

"Anything."

"Could you stop the boat?"

"Sure . . . what is it?"

"Just do it, please."

John cut the motor and threw the line overboard, and went over to her.

"What's going on?"

Sara positioned herself in front of him, as she sat on the cushioned chair. Her hands slid up his thighs, up and around his ass, her eyes riveted on his bulge.

"Baby . . . you thinking of that?"

Sara nodded her head, overwhelmed with the memory of how, once the fireworks started, she had walked to John as if in a dream, where he stood with a whole group of people, and carefully took his hand, as she stood close behind him.

John was picturing it, too. The fireworks, exploding overhead. His wife nearby, his sons, everyone, and Sara's soft hand, slipping into his. Her hard nipples, pressing into his back. Her hips, thighs, just barely touching him. Letting her hold his hand, tightly, and then interlacing her fingers with his.

They stood like that for a few minutes, until the next big display, and while everyone was looking skyward, Sara had led him, away from the crowd.

"I had to . . . I just had to . . ." she murmured. She reached out, and traced one long fingernail down the length of his cock, swelling up in his jeans, remembering how she'd led him to the trees, not 50 feet from where everyone was "ooh'ing" and "aah'ing," and all the noise and lights and cries going on all around them. It was so risky.

"You were so amazing, honey," John said. "So beautiful."

Sara quickly tossed a cushion onto the deck, and dropped to her knees. He was as swollen and bursting and hard as he was that night.

"I should have stopped you," John whispered. "We could have been seen."

"Yes," Sara breathed, remembering the indescribable thrill of tugging down his zipper, there on the forest floor, hearing the shouts and voices, but never so intent on anything in her life.

"I thought we were going to wait, until tonight." John whispered, as he hurriedly unbuttoned his jeans.

"Mmmmmm . . . Let me see you."

Sara gasped as his beautiful cock sprang up throbbing inches from her mouth.

The first time . . . with all those people . . . she was on fire, so wet, aching, shocked at the need exploding in her belly.

His beautiful prick was in front of her eyes, the actual, real thing so much more hot and exciting than she had ever dared to imagine. So tender, the skin so sensitive to her light touch, and the thick, muscle swollen red and angry beneath, for her . . .

"Mmmmm . . ." Sara made a loud moan as she licked the tip, swirling her tongue around the edge to taste him. She held him, gently, from beneath, like she was holding a precious delicacy to her mouth, so he could see how much she loved and wanted it.

"Yes, . . .," he whispered, as he caressed her head, pulled back her hair. "You wanted my cock, didn't you?"

His naughty words made her groan, and she reached down, frantic to touch herself, finding her clit, as he continued to whisper the terrible, exciting things.

He said them in the forest, that first time, astounded and amazed at what was happening between them. Never did he imagine . . . even after that kiss, and knowing, expecting, something to happen. . . that it would be like this.

"Yes, you did . . ." John continued. Sara was helpless in her lascivious need to suck him into her mouth. That night the sight of her, her face bathed in ecstasy, opened up realms of forbidden urges he had never acknowledged, but which came so naturally to his mind. They somehow knew, had known for a long time, that this is what they needed and wanted.

That night, the explosions in the sky echoing the intensity and urgency of their newfound, surprising lust. John, clamping his hands down onto her head, tightly, and fucking her mouth, hard, as Sara groaned and sucked harder, deeper, slurping at him, trying to take as much of him inside as she could inside her, unconcerned about how she was acting. Her lust for his cock took over her mind and behavior, completely, and John saw it all. His whispered words encouraged it.

"Shh, it's ok . . . you wanted my cock, you wanted your Daddy's big cock, . . . "

Sara rocked back on her heels, on the boat, spreading her legs as she rubbed her clit furiously in the same rhythm that she sucked him, harder and faster. She was gushing wet, streaming juices onto her fingers; her building orgasm so much more intense than the night before.

Oh god . . . she recalled the first taste of his salty cum, that night in the forest . . . little spurts in her throat as she sucked him deep . . . the knowledge that she was going to make her father come so intense it nearly made her scream . . .

John frantically shushing her, terrified people would hear her groans. "Quiet, baby, shhh they'll hear us." But there was no way they could stop.

"Fuck . . . fuck . . ." John hissed through his teeth. "Suck it . . . harder, harder . . . yes . . . that's it . . ."

Sara let out a strangled groan, her mouth full of cock, as she came on her hand, shaking and trembling, so quickly, as she had that night. And John, seeing stars, as the fireworks exploded in the sky, the best orgasm he'd ever had . . .

It left them completely astounded and breathless. When Sara looked up at him, with her big brown eyes, they were almost fearful, and he stared fiercely at her, knowing they were both thinking the same thing.

John pulled her up from the deck of the boat and kissed her, passionately. He could taste himself in her mouth. She was shaking from her orgasm. They embraced, holding each other, awash in the memory of that first time. He kissed her neck, murmuring.

"All I could think, looking at you . . ."

"Yes, I know . . ."

"I was going to fuck you . . ."

"Yes . . ."

John shuddered as he clasped her, fiercely, needing her body.

This time it was Sara shushing him. She caressed the back of his head, as he held her. "Shh. . . you will . . . tonight."

~*~*~

"Here, taste this . . ."

Sara sat on his lap, on the deck, the remains of the incredible dinner spread out on the table. She wore a silky, shimmery cream colored dress, with spaghetti straps, and a touch of make-up on her face. She laughed as she fed him a plump, red strawberry.

"Mmmmm . . . my god . . . " he laughed, as the juice spurted into his mouth.

"Wait, hang on . . ."

"What?"

"You've got . . . an eyelash," Sara said. "See?"

John held her hands to his lips, and kissed her palm, her fingers.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?"

"Yes, but you can tell me again."

"You . . . are . . .amazingly . . . gorgeous . . ." he whispered, between kisses.

"Can I ask you something," she said, fiddling with his collar.

"Anything, darling."

"Those . . . other women . . ."

"Yes?" John said, calmly, as he took a drink from a tumbler.

"Were they . . . did you . . ."

"Did I what?" he said, holding her chin, and forcing her to look at him.

"Was it ever like this?"

"No," John said, without hesitation. "No. In fact . . ."

"What?"

"Well, now that we're being 'honest' . . ." he laughed.

"Tell me," she said.

"I don't know that I ever told you the . . .uh . . . hell. . . I went through, you know, when we were 'reconnecting.'"

"No. What do you mean?"

"Ah . . . I hate talking about it to you. Feels like I'm complaining."

"It's ok. Please, tell me. Everything."

"Well . . . where do I start? . . . The insomnia? The depression? The anxiety? I was fucking miserable. Here this thing was happening, with you, something I could not admit, but changing my entire existence, without knowing why . . . I must have, I guess, known, that I had fallen in love with you—that we, we were in love . . . goddamn that is still so strange to say . . ."

"Go on. . ."

"But I didn't know. All I knew was that I was slammed with this godawful depression. Waking up at 4 in the morning, every day, not being able to fall asleep . . . restless . . . irritable. God, the anger, eating away at me. I knew something was going on, obviously. I mean, I had gone through some periods like that, before, nothing like that, but . . . I recognized some of the signs."

"Normally in situations like that, I would need sex. And I would find it."

He took another big gulp from his drink.

"I thought, maybe, you know, I should meet someone. Call up one of my old flames."

"So why didn't you?"

"Ah. That's the question." He avoided her eyes, until she forced him to look at her.

"This makes me sound like the biggest shit."

"No, it doesn't. Why didn't you?"

"Ah . . ." John sighed, clearly uncomfortable. "Well, first of all, the thought made me sick to my stomach. And I couldn't figure it out. Why couldn't I just . . . go fuck someone? I needed sex. I knew that much. But I didn't want it, and that had never happened to me before. Never. Not once. And all I can tell you is that even then, even when I was so clueless, I could tell, without really being able to say it, that . . . it would have felt like a betrayal."

"A betrayal?"

"Yes. I couldn't, or wouldn't, because it made me feel sickening guilty. Beyond that. As if I was betraying someone . . . deeply. Profoundly. And . . . uh . . . here's the 'shit' part . . . I never—"

"Felt that with Mom?" Sara finished for him.

"No," John said, shaking his head. "Not at all."

"And that's what makes you a terrible person, because you never felt guilty cheating on Mom, but you would have felt guilty cheating . . . on me?"

"Yes . . ." he mumbled.

Sara leaned in, and kissed him full on the mouth.

"What? What was that for?"

"Because you're wrong. And you're sweet, and wonderful, and amazing."

"What . . .?"

"Think about it. You were—we both were—so in denial, you weren't capable of understanding or even thinking that you would have been cheating on me. That doesn't make sense. But it would have been 'cheating' nonetheless."

"How so?"

"On yourself, silly. You couldn't betray your feelings for me. In fact the mere thought made you 'sick to your stomach.' And that's just so sweet."

"I guess . . . " he said, doubtfully.

"Stop doing that. Stop trying to find reasons to feel bad. You didn't 'pursue' me. I didn't 'seduce' you."

"True."

"It just . . . happened."

"But we—I—could have said No. I should have said No."

Sara shook her head. "You're just saying that, because of what we just did, on the boat. Didn't you hear what I said yesterday? You're caving in."

"I'm not following you."

Sara kissed him. "To fear. Simple as that."

John was silent as he gazed at her with the dizzy, swooping sensation he'd often felt, during their long lunches. She had this effect on him of turning his every known thought upside down, and he could barely follow her. But that was a big reason he loved her.

She brought his hands around her waist, then slid her arms up to his neck.

"Just hold me," she said.

Her voice whispered at his ear. She felt so soft and sweet in his arms.

"You 'could have said no?' Really?" Sara murmured. "What about the next day?"

John could not stop himself from tracing her silky body, his hands running over the curves of her hips and the adorable V of her pussy, outlined by her thin dress. Sara shifted in his lap, making herself more accessible. Her skin was golden, and as warm and smooth as honey, her breasts somehow more perfect and alluring covered by the shiny fabric, her hard nipples, more tantalizing. His every sense came more alive with the seductive tones of her voice.

"You didn't have to come back . . ."

"Oh, fuck . . ." John whispered, remembering.

"But I knew you would," Sara said, as her fingers found his cock.

"Did you know, that night, I kept waking up, every hour or so, aching. Just aching for you. It was torture."

"Yes, I know," John replied. "I was up, too, with a hard-on the size of Texas."

"God it was so risky . . ." Sara laughed.

"I knew you would be there . . . it was like a dream."

"You could have stayed in bed. Jerked off in the shower."

"No," John whispered to her, with understanding in his voice. "No, I couldn't have . . ."

"Why was that?" Sara murmured.

"Because I wanted it. I wanted you."

Somehow it came like a revelation.

John picked her up, gently, off his lap, and took her by the hand. "Let's go upstairs."

On the way up, he could smell the lavender, feel the sun on his skin, hear the crunch of pine needles under his feet, as he remembered making his way to the same spot where she had sucked him, the night before. And she was there, waiting, looking so goddamned beautiful. He had glanced around, taken her hand, and led her through the pine trees, deeper into the forest by the lake's edge, where he knew of a little clearing, a meadow full of wildflowers, soft with thick grass, and completely hidden.

He led up her into the dark bedroom, his heart pounding.

He took her face in both hands and gazed at her in the moonlight, stroking her lips with his thumbs, before leaning in to kiss her hard, just once, before whispering, "Turn around."