The Neglected Son Ch. 04

The little slut … I could hardly keep quiet. I wanted to laugh, to cheer, to give myself a pat on the back. It had worked. I'd convinced her, totally convinced her, and she was dead-set on getting revenge. She really believed that Dad wasn't her father. While he, clouded as he was, really believed that she wanted him and that it was okay to give her what she wanted.

She escaped to the ottoman again, and that was when I saw how he had been physically affected. Mindy must have felt it, that rising stiffness under her as she lay and squirmed on his lap. She saw it, too, taking a lingering, speculative look.

Yet she held back. She couldn't quite bring herself to take the next step. Oh, she was aroused, sure, I could see that from here. She was probably all hot and slippery between the thighs, and in the firelight, her nipples cast pointy little shadows against her pale blouse. Her hair was mussed, her clothes disheveled, and what an appealing picture she presented.

Dad abruptly leaned forward and kissed her. He caught her so by surprise that her mouth opened opportunely for him to thrust in his tongue. When she would have recoiled, he cupped his hand around the back of her head and held her to him. He lost his seat on the chair and thumped to his knees on the rug, still lip-locked and tongue-probing with Mindy.

She finally tore free, gasping and flushed. Trying to rise, her arm struck the round table and teetered it on its spindly legs. Dad's tumbler fell to the floor, spilling its freight of half-melted ice and a few droplets of Scotch. The heavy glass did not break, but rolled toward the hearth. There, it might have shattered against the bricks, and Mindy's automatic response was to scurry after it on hands and knees.

In so doing, she turned her rear to Dad. He pounced as she reached for the wayward glass, grasping her hips from behind and drawing them snug up against the protuberant front of his trousers. He rubbed against her, his confined erection back and forth over the spank-reddened cheeks of her ass, and groaned throatily.

"Dad!" Mindy cried. I saw the astonishment in her eyes. She perhaps hadn't expected this, not really, had perhaps come downstairs with only the vaguest idea of how it would go.

"Mindy!" Dad returned, more in rapture than in shock.

He circled one arm around her waist so that she couldn't get away – and she was trying, but Mindy was short and Dad was tall, still strong and athletic for his age. His other hand tore feverishly at the front of his pants, unsnapping, unzipping, and clumsily but quickly working them down.

I, of all the stupid times for it, felt a pang of worry. What if it turned out that he was better than me? What if he had a bigger one, and applied it with the skill of decades' worth of experience? It wasn't that I was jealous or anything. It wasn't that I felt possessive of Mindy. Far from it! Hadn't I arranged this whole thing? Hadn't I tricked her into being here with her own father, tricked him into going along with it? So what if hedid have a bigger one, or used it better? So what?

Seconds later, my fears were allayed. He had an okay one, not spectacular, no Dillinger or anything like that. I beheld the very organ of my own conception, and Mindy's and Renee's, as my father freed it from his clothing and laid it along the rosy-pink crack of Mindy's ass.

She babbled at him to stop, perhaps having changed her mind or at least decided that this was all happening too fast. But Dad seemed to have no more intention of that than I had when Renee had beseeched the same of me. He bumped his hips back and forth, sliding his cock in the furrow of her bottom, while he groped underneath her to get a feel of her pussy.

Her body lurched when he made contact. A startled sound – ooh! – burst from her, and I imagined she was reacting to Dad's fingers sinking into her slick tightness. She clawed at the carpet, the abandoned tumbler still some inches away.

"Oh, Mindy, yes, there's Daddy's naughty little girl," he said.

Having observed long enough while ignoring the throbbing length in my own pants, I took matters into my own hands. As blackly exciting as it had been to do all the wrong and sinful things I'd done, with my sisters and my aunt, it was somehow all the more evil and enticing to watch as my father held his precious daughter immobile, groping her and preparing to fuck her.

"Daddy, please," gasped Mindy.

"Darling, yes, tell Daddy what you like. Let Daddy fuck you. Feel me? Feel how nice that is? How much it wants to be in you? Inhere?"

"Oh, God!" Mindy jumped as he did something, perhaps got more of his fingers deep in her, perhaps tweaked her clit. Either way, it blew away any thoughts she might have had of trying to stop. "You lying bastard, all this time, if that's what you want, I know how you've been watching me, if you want to, go ahead and do it, do it nice and hard, fuck me, she can go to hell, shove it in me and fuck me now!"

He reared back, the head of his cock dragging along the crack of her ass until it was poised to enter her from the rear. They were turned just right for me to see it all plainly, as he slammed his entire length in.

Mindy bucked and wailed, grinding back to meet Dad as he pulled most of the way out and drove fiercely home again. His face was twisted in a hideous contortion of ecstasy and disbelief, as if even in his muddled state he understood what he was doing and could scarcely credit it.

It was over almost as soon as it began, Dad hunching and thrusting and coming in an explosive series of harsh barking groans. He fell back, parting from Mindy with a slurping suction noise, and sagged against the ottoman with his chest heaving so that I thought he might have a heart attack.

Mindy, meanwhile, spun around with the fury of a scalded cat. I knew her body cues plenty well enough to know that she had been denied her orgasm, and she clearly was not happy about it.

With nary a care for Dad's struggles for breath, she pushed him onto his back on the carpet and straddled his face. She'd probably suffocate him, but who knows, the bucking of his death throes might be enough to let her finish.

I had underestimated the old man, though. When he looked up and saw Mindy swinging her leg over his head, her sopping pussy streaming with his own semen descending toward him, he rallied like a champ. He seized her thighs and pulled her down, and her back made a bow as she settled onto his eager mouth.

"Yes, lick me, bring me off," Mindy panted. "Lick me,Daddy, you rotten son of a bitch!"

I couldn't contain myself any longer. Watching them, imagining how much worse – a thousand, a million times worse! – this would make things, the very idea of Dad's tongue plunging into Mindy's cunt, all of it piled up on me, overwhelmed me, and sent me hurtling into an orgasm so strong that I thought my head was turning inside-out.

The results of my pumping fist splattered copiously against the wall. I had to brace myself or I, too, might have collapsed to the floor. My ears rang, my temples pounded with my pulse, and my very eyeballs seemed to throb. But through it all, I kept my eye to that peephole.

Finally, Mindy was sated and Dad was miraculously still among the living, albeit only semi-conscious. She crawled off him and slumped, dazed, against the side of the chair. I watched until she slowly made her way to her feet, smoothing her skirt down over her thighs. She stared at Dad with an unreadable frown, then left the study.

I hurried through the servants' corridor, fairly confident that Mindy wouldn't revisit my room that night. I probably wouldn't see her, or any of them, until breakfast the next morning.

And that, I decided, was when I'd say what I had been waiting so very long to say.