The Swing Man Cometh Again Pt. 01

Through the haze of his climax, he felt her draw back. Felt his cock leave her mouth as the next cumshot flew outward. He could not do anything but continue to whack his belching boner.

"YESSS, DADDY!" he heard Nikki cry as he continued to milk himself in front of her. After four or five spurts, he was able to open his eyes and focus on his daughter.

She was holding her breasts under his cock, catching the falling spooze on her soft tits. A pearlish-colored splash of seed covered her chin and was slowly dripping down to join the rest of his load on her shiny chest. His knees got weaker at the erotic sight. The dug his fingers into her shoulder and she looked up at him, her eyes full of sinful mirth.

"Daddy, I'm sorry. I felt that stuff coming out and it scared me," she said in a little girl voice. "The stuff just kept shooting out all over my chest."

Damn it, she is a ballbreaker,Jonas thought as he flicked the last of his spurts into the hollow of her neck.

"You're a bad girl, Nikki. I'll have to teach you to swallow my stuff next time. But now, I think it's time I gave you a good fucking. Scoot back."

Nikki slid backwards on the bed and lay back, her hands lifting her skirt up as she spread her legs, offering herself to him this time. Jonas, easily maintaining his erection as he gazed at his daughter's wet breasts and her cheerleader outfit, crawled over right leg, instead of between them.

"Turn on your side," he told Nikki as he grabbed her left leg under the knee and lifted it toward him. She rolled on her right side, bending her left leg as it came to his body. Instead of letting it swing past his body, he pushed it back toward her shoulder, watching as her skirt opened before him.

"Straighten your leg out... now pull it back," he told Nikki.

She readily complied, holding her ankle as she bent her leg back in a split position that opened her crotch for his viewing pleasure. She had been holding herself up on her right elbow but now she let her shoulder fall to the bed and brought her right hand into her spread lap, ran her fingers on her splayed pussy as he watched.

"Are you going to fuck my little pussy, Daddy?" she purred up at him.

"I'm gonna fuck it good and hard, you bad little girl. I'm gonna fill your pussy with this big dick.... make you come all over the place!" he promised her as he crawled further into her lap. He steered his oozing cockknob down against her pinkish pussy lips and rubbed it back and forth, teasing her momentarily.

"Oh yes, Daddy! Fuck my dirty little pussy!" Nikki whined. Her fingers pushed his cock down into her notch and Jonas pushed forward, began working his length into his daughter's velvety wet cunt.

"Uhhhhh..... oohhh, it feels good!" Nikki gasped hotly, her fingers rubbing the area of their joining. Her nails lightly scraped his descending shaft as he pressed it deeper and deeper in her split sex.

"Oh baby," Jonas murmured as he leaned over her, focusing his weight more in his hips, feeling her open up before him. Her pussy was very well lubricated by her own natural oils and her young portal stretched around his prick, resistant at first but then as welcoming as always.

He grabbed her waist, one hand on her tummy, the other in the small of her back. He pushed hard with his hips and his stomach hit the back of her upheld thigh as he reached the limit of his daughter's hospitality.

"God, I love it, Daddy," Nikki said, looking up at him. Her mouth was slack and hanging open, her chin still wet with his cum. "Fuck me.... fuck your little girl."

Jonas began pulling and pushing his manhood in and out of her well-explored snatch, his hands pushing her skirt out of the way so he could look down at watch the pumping of his daughter's pussy. His glistening cock delved into her pink flesh again and again as he watched, her fingers close by, working her clitoris.

"Soooggoooodd...... aaahhhh... aaahhhhh.... fuck me harder," Nikki panted as he yanked himself in and out of her splayed lap.

He gave it to her a little harder, leaning further over her to change the angle of his attack. He could not penetrate as deep as before but he enjoyed the feeling of the back of her leg against his chest. He looped his right hand under the front of her knee and held her leg tightly. Nikki lay the side of her face on the bed and moaned as he socked his prick in her swampy sexhole.

His left hand left the hot skin of her belly and ran up the cottony front of her vest top. He clutched at her pale, cum-splattered mammaries as they rippled with his thrusts. His palm smeared his own seed all over her jiggling jugs, working it into her young titflesh as he lunged over her scissored form.

"Yessss...mmmmmoohhh....God, Daddddy....uummmm."

After several minutes of fucking Nikki in that way, Jonas decided that he needed to change to a different position. One that would allow him a better view of his daughter's body and allow him to penetrate her deeper.

He leaned back on his knees, pulling her leg back with him. Nikki let go of her ankle as she sensed that he was ready for something else. She looked up at him as he swung her leg around the right side of his body and pulled his cock from her slit.

"Go ahead and put your head on the pillows," he told her. He had decided to finish things in a standard missionary position.

"Mmmmmm, I was liking that," Nikki said, rubbing her pussy.

"Well, move and you'll get some more," he said and slapped her leg playfully. Nikki pulled her body around and lay back on the bed in the correct orientation. Her ponytail fanned out under her head as it hit the pillow.

"Come on....finish me off," she offered as she pulled her legs back toward her shoulders, bending them at the knees as she let them fall open. Her hands pulled up her skirt, showing him his tan-lined target as he walked on his knees to her.

The playful voice she had used at the beginning of their fantasy fuck was gone and Jonas really did not care. The allure had worn off and now both of them just wanted to fuck and give pleasure to the other.

He fit the head of his erection in her elevated notch and shoved deep into her. Leaning over her, he let his hands fall under her armpits to support himself.

"Ohhhyeaaaahhh," Nikki whinnied as she looked down at her stuffed pussy and began rubbing her exposed clit with her fingers. Jonas began thrusting again, using long deep strokes. "Mmmmmm....mmmmmm.... aaaaahh... ssssshh... aaaahhhh...... uuh...uuhh...mmhhmm."

Nikki lay her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes. Watching her pretty face shimmer and twitch with each roll of his hips, Jonas stroked into her for several minutes, slowly building the tempo. Despite coming twice already, he felt the distant stirrings of another on the horizon.

He lowered himself and kissed her slack mouth. Her hands came up and held his head as she kissed him back, her breath panting in his mouth as their lips broke. He kissed back her jawline, going to nuzzle her exposed ear. As he reached the target and began to lick at the bony cartilage of her lobe, her arms went around his neck.

"Ohhhh, I'm close....so close, Dad," she moaned close by his ear as her legs wrapped around his sides.

Jonas began to pound into her gripping groin, giving her the hard fucking that would get her off. The heels of her tennis shoes dug into the top of his pumping ass as she crossed her calves around his back. He could sense her spinning upward, both by the way her hips were hungrily rising to meet his and by her vocalizations which had gone up an octave.

"OOOOHH....yes..yes...YES....MMMmmmmMMM...ooohhhh," Nikki panted as he dropped his body on hers and reached back and under, going back to her thighs to get his hands under the bunched fabric of her skirt. His hands closed around her straining ass and held it still as he shifted into overdrive.

"OOOOHHHGODDD. . ..UUHHHHH....OOHHDADDDDIEEE!. . . .EEEEWW!. .OH, SHIT! . . . . .UUUUUHHHHHH!"

Jonas felt her pussy implode around his flashing phallus, the whole length of her sex sheath squeezing him in waves as she went over the brink. Her arms threatened to crush his neck as she held his body against her semi-clad figure.

Jonas dug his fingers into Nikki's shivering ass and kept fucking her clutching crease, his own orgasm approaching as her pussy milked him insanely. Finally, with his face buried in the soft fan of her hair, he felt his climax begin.

"UUUUUHHHHHHGGGGG!" he groaned into the pillow as his balls tried to deliver another load so soon. With his cock deep in Nikki's belly, it throbbed and throbbed, not delivering much cum, just going through the series of motions that the brain told it to perform. It hurt intensely each time his groin muscles shot on an empty breech but Jonas could not stop, did not want to stop!

Finally, the sweet agony ended and Jonas felt Nikki's arms slip from around his neck, her shoes slide off his back as she relaxed as well. He lifted his face from beside hers and kissed her for several minutes, letting his cock deflate in her gradually.

"That had to be the best ever," he finally murmured as Nikki ran her fingers through his hair.

"You were an animal," Nikki admitted. "I want you to be an animal all the time, Dad."

"Mmmmm, you think I've been holding back?"

"Well, not holding back, just ...." Nikki thought about how to express herself. "I think, you try to be my father and my lover at the same time. You don't need to be. I won't ever get mad at you for anything that we do in bed. So don't be afraid to... just use me."

Jonas was glad that she had told him her feelings. And he could see her point - he probably was trying to be too much of everything to Nikki. He had to emphasize the sexual aspect of their relationship, leave the fathering at the door of the bedroom.

"I promise to try to use you....you little slut," he added and kissed her as she started to laugh.

Chapter Two

Thousands of miles away, a woman stood on a sixth floor balcony, smoking a slim cigarette as she watched cars circling the illuminated Arc de Triomphe. Like small satellites escaping orbit, the cars peeled away down the branching boulevards, to be lost in the Paris night. It always amazed the woman that she should have such a view every day and night when she thought about where she had come from.

Svevlana Milonochev had grown up in Bulgaria in a very modest lifestyle as most Bulgarians did. Her father had run a bakery, eaking out a living for her and her mother. On the rare days that he took off from work, he had used to take her with him on walks around the countryside with his price possession - a camera. He had loved to take photographs and she probably owed him her comfortable accommodations as she had turned to photography as a career after she had been able to escape Bulgaria.

It had not been her first career choice. She had wanted to be a model but back in the days when she had tried to make inroads into modeling, her hourglass figure had been a problem. In the 70's, the Twiggy look was still hanging on. Designers were not designing clothes for 5' 8" women with 38D-26-36 measurements. And to tell the truth, she was not a classic beauty. Her face was too full, her jaw line a little too distinct. Pretty but not pretty enough.

So she had tried to stay on the fringe of the fashion world, taking photographs, getting hired on at a fashion magazine, eventually starting her own studio and working with some of the biggest designers in the world.

Behind her, the patio door opened and the sounds of the cocktail party spilled out around her, the piano competing with the tooting horns of the traffic below.

"Svevlana, there you are."

Svevlana turned toward the speaker, knowing who he was and she forced a smile on her face.

"Jean Paul, are people asking for me?"

Jean Paul came out onto the balcony, looking a little tipsy. He was a designer that Svevlana worked with from time to time and Svevlana knew was going to make another in a long line of passes at her. And the man was a toad. Extremely overweight, shorter than she by half a foot, and a bore.

"But of course. Who can go without such beauty without not noticing its absence," he said as he came to stand beside her. "But it is their loss....I love the way you say my name. Say it again."

"Jeaaann Pauull," Svevlana said, drawing his name out. Her heavy East European dialect and natural hoarse voice made his name sound very sexy, even if he was not.

"Oooh, you have such a voice. I wish I could hear it every day."

Oh, but you wish that were true, Svevlana thought, smiling all the time.

"I hadn't realized it was so late," she said, looking at her watch. "Thank you so much for coming to find me." She started shuffling her way around him, heading for the door. "People must be ready to leave. I should make myself available. There is nothing worse than wanting to leave a party and not being able to find the hostess."

"Such a big heart you have, my dear. Always thinking of others. I would like to repay you for all the kindness. Would you like to have dinner tomorrow?" he asked, sliding his arm around her waist as she began to move back toward the patio door.

"Oh, were that I could, Jean Paul," Svevlana said with feigned sadness. "But Liza and I are going to America tomorrow on holiday. But when I get back I will certainly call you."

"Do you promise?" he asked, seeming appeased to take that at least.

"But of course," Svevlana said, pinching his flabby cheek with her fingers. "Oh, Jean Paul, who is that?"

They had stepped back into the party and Svevlana had immediately looked for someone that Jean Paul did not know. She pointed to two thin blonde women across the room.

"I do not know. But they are striking, aren't they? I must go over and speak with them, Svevlana. Would you mind?"

"Certainly, Jean Paul. Go, go!"

Jean Paul began to slide across the room like some overweight python intent on his prey and Svevlana asked God to forgive her for sending such a creature on two unsuspecting innocents.

People started coming up, saying good night, thanking her for the invitation. Svevlana walked with them to the door and saw them off. She stopped at the bar set up in the corner of the room, asked the bartender for another glass of white wine and then told him to close up the bar for the evening.

Sipping her wine, her eyes scanned the last twenty people remaining. Models or models-wanna-bes, gay designers for the most part, fashion writers - they all blended into a familiar mishmash.

There was one young man in the other corner of the room that held Svevlana's eyes, though.

He was young, good-looking, casually dressed as compared to everyone else. He reminded her of her former husband, an Italian rogue that had left her fifteen years ago, breaking her heart and leaving her alone with a child to support. The only thing she missed about that guy was the enthusiastic lovemaking that they had shared for the three years they were together.

She wondered if the young man in the corner made love so enthusiastically. She wondered how it would feel to take him into her bed, to feel his hard body on hers.

No, you can not think these things, she chided herself. Svevlana was in a relationship and the thoughts she was having were very wrong beyond that fact.

The young man was talking with Helene Armaud, a seventy year old fashion editor. Well, to put it more succinctly, he was being talked at. He was shaking his head occasionally as Helene was laying out her whole life story. Svevlana had been on the end of that story in the past; it was Helene's most beloved subject.

The young man's eyes were not on Helene for most of the time. They were glancing across the room, toward the hallway to the bedrooms. Svevlana followed his eyes to two women in conversation at the hall entrance. One of the women was in her fifties; the other was Svevlana's friend and companion, Liza Burton, an aspiring model from across the Channel.

Svevlana felt a twinge of jealousy that the young man should be making eyes at Liza but it was understandable. Liza was a gorgeous with striking eyes, a lovely figure and an infectious smile. Svevlana knew the young man had a desire for Liza but he should know better, nothing could come of it.

As if someone had sounded a bell, party-goers began to leave en masse. Svevlana saw them off and then walked toward Helene and her bored listener.

"Helene, it's late. You aren't going to be able to look at all the photos you have to tomorrow," Svevlana told her as she arrived.

"Oh, there's nothing worth looking at this year," Helene squawked. "I was just telling Rico about my days in Milan. Did I ever tell you about that?"

"A couple of times. I think we have to call it a night. Liza and I are leaving very early tomorrow..."

"Oui, I see," Helene said. "Rico, it was so good to meet you. I will tell you the rest of the Milan stories next time we meet. I tell you, you have such a wonderful mother here."

"Yes, she is pretty wonderful," Rico said, pulling Svevlana against him. "And I know she thinks the world of you as well. I look forward to talking with you again about Milan."

"Goodnight," Svevlana waved as Helene shuffled off toward the door. "That was sweet of you, Rico. I know she was boring you to death." She slipped her hand around his waist as well as they started walking across the room. There was nothing wrong with hugging her son. As long as it was just hugging.

"Well, I hope there won't be a test on what she was saying," Rico chuckled. "I think I lost track of her story right after her mother brought her home from the hospital. Well, I better be on my way as well. I can still do some work tonight. I feel like working. Maybe it's the wine."

Rico was an artist, living in a loft down near the Seine. He was just making ends meet and Svevlana was happy to help him in the months that he had a shortfall. He was passionate about his painting and Svevlana was happy that he was focused. And his work was good, she was told, for someone only 22 years old.

"All right, dear," Svevlana said, as they came apart by the door. "You came by taxi?"

"Yes, not to worry. I will get home safely." Rico turned toward where Liza was still standing and called to her. "Goodnight, Liza."

"Goodnight. We'll see you in a few weeks," Liza said with a wave.

Svevlana and Rico exchanged traditional kisses on both cheeks and then Svevlana gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"I'll be thinking of you, Rico, when we are away."

"You...and Liza have a good trip." He gave another glance at Liza and then left.

Oh, my Rico, what a crazy situation, Svevlana thought as she closed the door.You thinking about Liza and me thinking about you. . .

Later, after the party had been cleared away and the staff paid and sent packing, Svevlana undressed in the bedroom, her mind still thinking about the desires that had recently been springing more and more through her head.

Maybe it was the fact that Rico was out of the house, proving himself in the world, that had her thinking of him more as a man than as a son.

Svevlana was not disturbed by the carnal thoughts about her son; it was more that she knew they were a waste of time, a fantasy that would never ever come true. And she was with someone that she loved, although their relationship was very open and unconfining.

In her black silk underwear, Svevlana walked into the bathroom and began to put her hair up for the night. Her hair was naturally a light chestnut color but she had dyed her hair blonde for years and years. She did not mind having the root color show; she liked the contrast.

As she finished pinning her hair up, she critically appraised herself in the mirror. Her body looked thick but she knew it would never be like it was in her youth. She had to face the fact that she was forty four years old and with age came changes in the body.