The Third Wife

I picked up a towel and wrapped it around myself, the length being enough to cover my breasts and my pussy. I toyed with the idea of sneaking upstairs hurriedly, but Susan caught me just as I reached the stairs.

"Be ready by seven, Lena. We are having dinner outside tonight."

"Formal?"

"Very. It took three weeks to get a reservation, and that's why the two of you are not missing out on it just because I am a little under the weather."

"You are not coming?"

"Just a little sickness, that's all. Be sure to wear something formal - the club is a stickler for such things."

A date with Dad... I would have been ready in a flash under other circumstances, but with the incident at the pool evoking hitherto unimaginable thoughts in me, I wasn't sure a tete-a-tete with Dad would be such a good idea. And as usual, I claimed I didn't have a gown to wear.

"I've got one," Susan countered. Her stubbornness was starting to make her sound like a real parent. "It's new. You can have it."

"No, I probably couldn't..." I feigned politely.

"Nonsense! I'll bring it to you."

Resignedly, I climbed up the stairs, painfully aware that Dad could see my exposed pussy from his position below. I was also aware that Susan was aware of that fact. And most importantly, I was also aware of the fact that all these facts were making my pussy wet.

The electric-blue velvet gown, with its plunging neckline, absent back and a leg-length slit at the side, was an exquisite piece of fashion, and it showed off a lot of skin. Especially the wrong skin. It wasn't the sort of dress you could wear a bra with, and sure as hell wasn't one you could bend over in, in front of people. Thankfully, my breasts have quite some space between them, and that was the only reason why the neckline wasn't a lot more daring than it was meant to be.

In spite of our misgivings and reluctance at having left a sick Susan back home, we found ourselves having a very good time. Dinner was an excellent combination of soup, appetizers and a nice, roasted piece of steak, topped out with white wine and candle-lights. At the end of the dinner, the band announced one of Daddy's favorite songs, a slow, romantic piece by Beethoven (or Mozart, I really don't remember), and he offered his hand.

Surprised, I accepted his offer, and the way we waltzed around the dance floor was so magical that the rest of the couples stood back and gave us a standing ovation at the end of the piece. Someone suggested an encore, and we ended up in each other's arms for around five dances that night.

Then Murphy struck. On our way back, via a dirt road that promised to save time, one of the wheels got stuck in the mud. By the time the two of us managed to drag it out, our bodies - and even more, our clothes - looked like they had a ton of soil and clay on them.

It was a very drowsy Susan who opened the door; the analgesics were relieving the upset at the cost of her consciousness, but the intelligent woman did not make any fuss about our being late, or worse, our dirty clothes. One glance, and she realized what had happened; she was too sleepy to listen to the full-length explanations we started to state.

"Take off your clothes," she slurred, "And go take a shower or something. I will put them in the machine, and then come to bed." No amount of persuasion or logic could make her change her mind, and I was the first to give in to her demand. Dad hesitated a little when he saw me sliding the straps off my shoulders, but seeing no other alternative, he too stepped out of everything he had.

We escorted Susan to the basement door, two naked bodies escorting one carrying their clothes. Sue made her way down the stairs easily, and sure that she could manage the rest of the chore herself, we went back.

Dad had mud around his face and arms, and his feet were a mess. In my case, the mud had found its way to my cleavage, the sides of my breasts and, of course, my arms, face and feet. It wouldn't have taken more than two hands to wash ourselves up, but when Dad suggested that we take a bath together, 'to save water and time,' I eagerly accepted.

As I stepped into the intimate cubicle of the shower stall, it occurred to me that it was for the first time in fifteen years that we would be sharing the soap again. As if reading my thoughts, Dad quipped as he turned on the water, "Just like old times, huh darling?"

I nodded. Just like old times, sure, except for some minor changes. Like his hard, throbbing dick or my equally throbbing breasts, his hairy balls, my hairless cunt getting increasingly wetter... realizations of feelings I hadn't had back when I was six years old. And the way Dad was glancing at me appreciatively told me that it was just as unique an experience for him.

The water trickled down at first, then built up slowly into a gushing torrent of warm water, soaking my hair and making it cling to my body. Somehow, there was dirt even on my nape, and I felt it when I reached back to ruffle my tresses a bit. Not wanting it to congeal there itself, I started to run my hand through the hair, trying to remove as much dirt as possible.

"Let me help you with that," Daddy offered. Gratefully, for it was getting to be a bit too distracting to stare at his naked body and keep mine under control, I turned around, hoping that not seeing would help in not seeking. I wasn't sure how much more of the intimacy I could take before I threw caution to the wind and my arms around my father. And I wasn't any more sure that he would have the sense at that moment to push me away.

Turning around was a big mistake! Now, right in front of me was a full-length mirror, and I was able to see myself and my Dad, as he picked the soil off me. It was an erotic image, seeing my father craning his head towards my nape, and with my hair pushed over the shoulder, I could see that he had a clear, unhindered view of my bare back, all the way to the floor.

Finally, Dad was finished at my back. By then, the playful fingers had rid my hair of the impurities, and at the same time, made me get rid of my inhibitions. I turned around and placed a quick peck on his lips.

"Thanks, Dad. Now if you wouldn't mind desilting this valley..." I gestured to my cleavage.

Dad gulped, but seeing the resolute expression on my face, he gave a smiling sigh. Reaching out, he took a breast in a hand and held it as if trying to guess its weight. "Wow!" he grinned at me. "These sure weren't that heavy the last time I washed them!"

I giggled at his joke, and Daddy joined in. In the midst of our laughter, Dad scraped away some of the mud at the sides of my breast. The scraping turned into a thumb-massage, and I damn near felt my knees give away as he rubbed against each breast with a sure-footed thumb. Had the stimulant been anybody else but my father, I would have been in bed with them by now...

In fact, if my Dad didn't have a wife who was sleeping in the same house, I would have probably dived under the covers with him...

...I would probably do it anyway...

To draw myself away from the edge Dad's attentions had brought me to, I started to let my hands roam over his body. Just as he had cleaned me, I cleaned him, washing his arms, his chest, his stomach, his armpits... the only place I hadn't dared to venture was below his torso, but I had a gut instinct that I would be going down soon.

Dad picked up the soap - I was glad he had, for in spite of my efforts, I was on the brink, the very end, of an orgasm, and I wasn't sure how good that would have looked. Doubts lingered. Was Dad still thinking of me in a sexless manner?

Once again, as if reading my mind, Daddy gently brushed against my skin. The skin just above my pussy. I jerked, and Dad smiled patronizingly. I made no move to remove his hands from the vicinity, and taking it as a sign of compliance, Dad continued downward. I moaned quite loudly when he finally touched my vaginal entrance, and I remember that I was embarrassed when I felt the hole sticky wet to his touch.

Dad drew his hand away, and smiled at the inadvertent display of the disappointment that I felt. He reached for the soap, and in an effort to make up with me for having left me hanging, he started to lather my breasts liberally, but it was not just my breasts that he devoted his attention to. Having finished with the mounds, he soaped the rest of my upper body, like my neck, my stomach, my shoulders... even under my arms. I giggled when he touched me there, and he responded by tickling me even more.

Then, he ventured downwards.

I jerked again when I felt him cup my pussy, but this time, he moved around with confidence, as if I had signed over exclusive rights to my father alone. I didn't know if he did this regularly with Susan, or whether his expertise was due to returning memories; then suddenly, it didn't matter; he was bathing me as lovingly - perhaps even more - as he once had, and that was all I cared about.

Before long, my entire body was clothed in soap.

Daddy handed the white slab over. "Your turn."

I took it, and I am sure my enthusiasm showed. Dad gazed into my eyes lovingly as I started with his cheeks, gently rubbing the soap over them. We were lost in each other's eyes, and I can say with all honesty that I lathered him all over without any idea I was doing it. It was only when I had to bend down to reach his knees that the eye-contact was broken, and the reality set in.

The water had already washed most of the soap away as soon as it had been applied, and Daddy remarked that he would have to soap me once again. The water chose that moment to run cold, and the magic was broken into. We stepped out of the shower, wet and undeniably horny.

We were surprised to see that Susan had still not made it to bed - and although relieved that she hadn't heard our ministrations in the bathroom, we were concerned that something had gone wrong. Wearing just a couple of loincloth-like towels, with our chests exposed, Daddy and I ran into the basement.

There, on the king-sized sofa that had been moved down from the living-room, we found her asleep. She looked so peaceful and contented that we decided to let her alone. There was no real danger to her or the baby down there, and it made no sense to wake her tired body up just so that she could lie in their own bedroom.

Dad and I left as quietly as we had entered.

"Well," Dad said as we came into the living-room again. "Looks like I will be sleeping alone tonight."

I looked at him, and our eyes met. His invited mine, and mine accepted. All that was left was the formality of words.

"If you are too scared to sleep alone," I said coyly, "Would you like some company of the female persuasion?"

Dad grinned back at me. "I would welcome it, Ma'am. This ole geezer likes young company nowadays."

Instead of replying, I dropped my towel. Dad's smile became wider. "And he really likes what he sees!"

"In that case," I countered, puckering my lips, "Why don't you compliment this lady the right way?"

Dad walked over to me, and at the last moment when it seemed as if my knees would fail me, he caught me around the waist and pulled my naked body towards his. For a couple of seconds, we just held each other like that, savoring the delicious feel of the other. Dad's towel dropped to the floor, and his erection slapped against my crotch.

our lips met and mashed, the wettest kiss I have ever experienced, and like two longtime lovers, our tongues found a rhythm of their own. Thrust for thrust, parry for parry... not a single nerve in my mouth was still in its unexcited state. Expertly, Dad traced the contours of my mouth with his tongue before we started to swap saliva back and forth, and from then on, I really have no objective recollection of what happened.

I remember being in the bedroom all of a sudden, still kissing as if our lives depended on it. Then I remember sharp jolts of pleasure as Dad moved downwards, towards my breasts and worshipped them. He flicked a tongue over one of the nipples, as if testing its arousal. The bud was hard as could be, and satisfied with what he saw, Dad endeavored to take the entire tit into his mouth.

All my chains snapped - I was a free woman, being made love to by a man whom I loved more than any other person. I moaned in wild abandon, and bucked under his body as he suckled hungrily on my breast. With his free hands, Dad started to play with me, and with the double whammy into me, I lost it. Spurt after hot spurt, I drenched Daddy's hands with my juices.

His playfulness with my second breast was even more torturous. Slowly, he ravished me, licking and sucking every visible inch of my mound, ending ultimately at the bud-topped areolas, where he nibbled me until I came again. He tugged at the nipple as I neared my finish, and when I requested him to stop and just mount me, he responded by rubbing some of my juices on my tit and sucking it clean.

That shut up my protests!

And then, as much to my delight as to my dismay, he moved downwards. I had never thought of myself as trigger-happy (if you get my drift!), and definitely not multi-orgasmic, but I tell you - Dad could probably make a dead body cum alive. This time, Dad drank my juices right from the spring of my womanhood.

When he climbed up on me again, I was relieved. I didn't know how much of this I could take - granted, I was learning new limits for my endurance - and I definitely didn't want to fall asleep when he came inside me. I wanted to topple with him, to explode with him. I wanted to feel his hot sperm, incidentally the fresher version of the same stuff that caused me years ago, seep into my belly and beyond.

And thankfully, I didn't.

Dad positioned himself at my entrance, with just the tip having gone inside, and then, with remarkable ease, he turned over so that I was now on top of him. Our lips met again as he started to slide into me, and our lip-movements synched that of the ebb and tide of his cock into my pussy, and as his tempo built up, so did our need for mutual release.

The kiss managed to muffle my cries, although I am sure that had Susan been somewhere nearby, she would have definitely barged in on us. Dad grunted; I squealed. Our hips slammed against each other as he shot off inside me a white fluid that was coming right off the oven from the two round kilns between his legs. I could sense the strain in my cunt as the walls wanked him off, emptying every single drop into their overflowing quarters.

I collapsed on top of Dad, exhausted. As the juices of our coupling started to leak down between our legs, I whispered to him the most wonderful-sounding words. "I love you, Daddy."

He kissed my hair as I placed my head on his chest. "I love you too, punkin. I love you too."

"Wake up sleepy heads!"

I awoke in a leisurely manner, the displacement from my earlier surroundings confusing until I found my focus. Almost all at one, the entire dam hit me - the previous night, the dinner, the dance, dirty clothes, coming home... and then the shower, finding Susan already asleep, and finally, the way Dad and I finally bonded in his bedroom.

"Well, at last! Welcome back to reality, Lena." A hand gave me a cup of coffee, and as I reached for it, I absently witnessed our - Dad's and mine - nudity.

Then consciousness.

I almost jumped off the bed at the sight of Susan, standing there in an apron with a tray that held one more glass in it. She was smiling, and that added to my bewilderment. Dad and I had been caught doing things no father and daughter are allowed to do, and that too by his own wife. The cum had dried obscenely on the inside of my thighs, and in my rather immodest state of undress, it was quite readily visible.

And why the hell was she smiling?

"Had a good time, honey?"

I stared at her for a couple of tongue-tied seconds, half-expecting to see a posse of cops just behind her, waiting to book the two of us. I had never meant to betray her, but guilt reminded me that in my own way, I had. I shouldn't have moved in on her man, especially when that man was my father as well.

"Whatsamatter? You look like you've just seen a ghost!"

"You aren't angry." It was intended as a question.

Susan laughed heartily. "Now why would I be angry - what would that earn me? A divorce and a lawsuit? A witness ticket to your trial? No thanks, sister. I would rather preserve life as I enjoy it right now."

I couldn't believe my ears. I had expected a shotgun - I was getting a cup of bed-coffee. Life is strange.

"Besides, I should be the last person on earth that should judge you for incest."

I thought I had it covered. "You mean you and YOUR father -"

She interrupted with her clear laugh. "I wish - but I do admit that for a couple of years, I was carrying on with my elder brother. So I guess incest is not that taboo for me after all."

To say I was relieved would be an understatement; in one second, the world returned in all its brightness and beauty that I had panicked myself into believing that I had lost. I managed to smile wanly back at her.

"And when Prince Charming here wakes up," she said, gesturing towards the still-prone form of Dad, his hand still flung on top of my waist, "Get him to come down to breakfast."

As she moved away, Dad caught her hand - the old man hadn't been sleeping at all! "Why don't you join us?" dad invited his second wife.

"I don't think so. It's not that Lena isn't any hot, but a threesome won't be any fun because neither of us will have you to our heart's content. Now wrap your filthy arms around your daughter and leave me, so that I can make some breakfast for you two. All that frolicking can be pretty appetizing, isn't it?"

Without waiting for a reply from either of us, she breezed out of the room. I attacked Dad with a pillow. "You coward... you allowed me to face her alone... gosh, I was so scared..."

Dad caught the pillow in midair and threw it back at me. "I knew the two women in my life would come up with a way to share me between them," he said cockily.

"Oh yeah?" I retorted. "Share this." I fell on him, and we rolled over again.

Breakfast went cold that morning...

Three months later, just a day before my birthday, I tested myself. The pills had run out about a month after our affair had begun, and Susan had seemed so indifferent when I asked her to get me to the local drugstore, that I decided to let nature take its own course. I tested positive.

And that night, in the living room, Dad slipped a diamond ring into my fingers. My stepmother, Susan, christened me, his 'third wife.'