Dirty Mr. Styles

Gradually, Morgan felt himself begin to fuck her ever so slowly, his cock throbbing to pound her tight little hole with fury. His hands moved back to her tits and squeezed.

"You do want me, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I would be a fool if I didn't. A crazy old fool. Wanting you is one thing. Continuing to have you is quite another."

Gently, but with resolve, she raised up on her knees, sliding off of his dick, using her pussy to ease it down. She stood up, turned around and moved onto her hands and knees, her shapely little ass hovering over his stomach. She lowered down and began to rub her wet pussy across his fatness, stroking his shaft with her fingers.

When she'd heard him moan and reach for her asshole again, she eased forward, away from him -- still on hands and knees -- to the end of the sofa. She glanced teasingly over her shoulder at him with a naughty smile, and shook her little ass at him.

"I want you to fuck my asshole, sir..."

Morgan moved up on command, a slave to this little lady's desires, he knew. Up on his knees behind her, gripping his dick in hand to ease it into her tight little anus, he'd reminded her again:

"You don't need to call me sir, you know...I think we're long passed that now, don't you?"

Nichole wiggled closer, wanting to feel it inside her ass, her pussy aching for it. He had a valid point. She would relent and stop calling him sir.

"I want you to fuck my asshole hard...daddy..."

.Five.

The word raced through his head...daddy...somewhere, underneath the kink, the lust, the desire and heat, Morgan Styles still hadn't fully accepted the truth of it. For the most part, he still wanted to indulge himself in her sweet cunt as long as he could, knowing that once the fire settled, she would probably vanish as mysteriously as she appeared.

For now, Morgan Styles relished the firm snugness of her anus squeezing around him; Nichole's wiggling ass cheeks grinding closer to take him fully up her ass made his balls tight. He'd never, ever met a woman who actually enjoyed being fucked that way, and now...suddenly all in one afternoon, he had this beautiful woman of his most cherished dreams appear like a vision of splendor, simply adoring everything about him, wrinkles, flab and all...and then begging him to fuck her little ass as hard as he liked.

And actually letting him...

Nichole leaned her chest onto the sofa, ass still arched up, reached behind and took hold of her cheeks in each hand, spreading them apart. Morgan took one look at her pink little hole, and her beautiful pussy slit opened, creaming with cum, and spewed his load right up her asshole.

When she'd felt him spurt the warm liquid, she shoved two fingers into her pussy and fucked herself into another orgasm in seconds.

Morgan leaned over her back and kissed her shoulder with affection, easing his floppy appendage out of her anus.

Creaking knee joints ached as he pushed his tub of fat off of the sofa and stood beside her, watching as she slowly slid her legs flat and lay comfortably on her stomach, a smile of sheer satiation across her lips.

Morgan groaned as the reality he wasn't 17 shot angrily through his old bones and he shook his head, disgusted all over again that he probably would never really be able to keep up with a woman like Nichole. When her fantasy wore off, she would move on to more sculpted, youthful pastures. He softly padded around the coffee table to leave.

"Where are you off to?" she asked, languidly.

"Men's room, my dear. To clean up."

Nichole leaned up on her forearms, gleam in her eye. What youth she still had, precious youth and energy. "You know what I've always wanted?" she asked, with hopeful innocence.

"What have you always wanted, love?"

"I've always wanted to know what it would be like to take a bath with my father. Can we?" Her eyes sparkled. "We can have that little talk while we wash each other. Wouldn't that feel gorgeous?"

"My dear, I don't know if I can cum anymore for you tonight." Morgan smiled, but was most sincere, though the idea of bathing her was delicious, indeed. The idea of her bathing him, intoxicating.

"You don't have to cum, sir. We can bathe and talk...together."

She stood up in front of him and took his pudgy hand in hers. Smiling up at him with all the adoration of a daughter to her father, Morgan knew he'd give her anything she damn well wanted.

He smiled and kissed her forehead.

Nichole helped draw the bath and waited for him to ease into the tub. The water rose nearly to the rim. Fluidly, she stepped in, between his legs, realizing there just wasn't much room. Still, she wedged into a small space and sat down, facing him. She seemed perfectly at ease with it all.

Morgan simply watched her with appreciation, and closed his eyes as she wet a cloth and began to drain water over his body. It felt so nice, relaxing. He simply indulged as she lathered the cloth with soap and began to wash every inch of him in soothing, loving manner.

When he was rinsed and refreshed, she smiled and handed him the cloth. He spent some time dripping water over her arms and breasts, taking it all in. Finally, Morgan lathered his hands and began to slowly soap her body.

She stood up so he could wash her pussy and ass, and her legs.

Morgan did so with pure pleasure, taking his time to feel her lathered silken flesh against his hands. He especially enjoyed rubbing her soapy little pussy, making sure to fondle her clit and dip his fingertips in her hole.

After he'd washed and rinsed her, Morgan leaned up and began to softly kiss the lips of her youthful little snatch, as if he was kissing his bride on their wedding day. When he stopped, Nichole lowered down and lay back, somewhat awkwardly against his protruding gut. He reached around and clasped his fingers in front of her and for a time, they lay together in calm silence. He truly did not want this moment to end, or ruin it for that matter, but it was time to put things openly on the table.

She'd whispered her secret in his ear and the thought of it, the idea of it, had overtaken him. It had been one of his most cherished sexual fantasies. She'd whispered to him that she wanted him to fuck her the way he would if she was really his young daughter, to imagine her as if she was barely into her teens, needing her daddy. The notion had turned him on beyond measure. He'd surrendered to his baser desires and went with it...revealing his own dark perversions effortlessly at her command.

"I suppose you're still wondering if it was true or just fantasy?" she'd asked, as if reading his mind.

Morgan nodded, taking for granted she'd not seen him.

"I've had this fantasy, this need, since I was a child. I was told my father abandoned us shortly before I was born. I grew up dreaming that one day he would come back, take me with him. I was fourteen when I finally saw him for the first time."

Nichole gently caressed his prick as she spoke. Morgan closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, surrendering again to her exquisite touch.

"That same afternoon, I happened to look up at him sitting in the chair and saw his penis peeking out through the cuff of his loose swim shorts. I'd known by then what arousal was, and seeing that he was aroused while watching me filled me with overwhelming desire," she told him, as she traced her thumb over the head of his cock.

"We came so close to experiencing each other that day, but then he left and I never saw him again -- well, not until I was twenty six...and then he didn't even recognize me."

Morgan felt his heart squeeze. He held her closer, protectively.

"Ever since that afternoon, the only thing driving me through the horrible life I'd been subjected to by my mother and her siblings, had been my cherished wish to find him again, to bring him pleasure, to experience him, to feel him fucking me...and that I could live with him and be his lover."

"Oh, my dear girl...how awful. I am so terribly sorry. I know it is difficult to grow up without a parent. I can see how that longing was channeled into this naughty fantasy." He was clumsy with the psychoanalysis and soon realized just how so when she continued her story.

"You don't understand. I was born in September of seventy eight. My mother was only fifteen years old. She raised me with the help of her older sister and their parents, my grandparents, until I was fourteen. She was in her late twenties by then."

"That's when I'd seen my father for the first time -- that I remembered, anyway. We'd gone to the lake, had so much fun. My father sat with me in the living room while everyone had gone to get dinner at some takeout place. I thought he was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen and was so happy he'd come back...I knew he would take me away with him forever."

Morgan's brow furrowed a bit, his cock twitching in her fingers.

"He sat in a big brown easy chair, still in his swim trunks, with his legs apart. I sat on the floor folding up my beach towel. I could feel him watching me. Then he told me he thought I was quite beautiful. I looked up at him then, elated, and that's when I'd seen the head of his penis peeking through the shorts. I'd never seen a man's penis before that moment, and I was mesmerized. I wanted to see more of it. I couldn't help myself."

Morgan slowly began to shake his head, feeling something begin to darken. Something wasn't right...this story was going to get worse.

"I got up and went to him. I climbed into his lap. He looked at me and seemed shocked. His eyes narrowed and he asked what I was doing."

"Oh...no..." Morgan muttered aloud, closing his eyes tight.

"I told him how much I loved him and how I was so happy that he'd finally come back for me. I guess I got a little carried away but I reached down and slipped my fingers inside the cuff of his shorts. He didn't seem to mind...and then he smiled and asked me..."

Morgan Styles drew a breath and held it. His mind raced. His body flushed warm. His cock stiffened against her tender caress.

"...so, I slid off him onto the floor, onto my knees and he pushed down his shorts. I'd just opened my mouth when the living room door opened and suddenly my mother was there, and her sister, and my uncle."

Morgan's heart pounded...his reality shattering all around him.

"All hell broke loose. My aunt jerked me up and rushed me out of the room, slapping my face a few times. I heard fighting and yelling, things breaking. Then suddenly...he was gone. I didn't see him again for years."

When she had gone silent long enough, still easily reclining against him, casually tracing her fingers along his upper thigh, Morgan could only mutter: "That can't be..." even though he knew all too well...it could.

Swirling pieces dropped hard into place as the recall began to surface more readily. Nichole pulled up and turned around in the water, facing him. She eased her hand between his thighs and took hold of his soft, limp cock.

"You are my father, sir...my mother was Madeline Wilkes. My aunt, I believe you knew, as well...Marla...your late wife."

Nichole spoke gently and without confrontation in her tone.

"And I've always loved and admired you, always needed you, sir."

Morgan Styles looked at her with utter confusion in his eyes. He remembered the incident quite well, but he had no idea...none at all...that the little girl was his own child.

"How can that be? I've never had children! This makes no sense."

Pieces of his life swirled and dropped into place. Morgan gasped.

"My mother had grown terribly hateful toward me after that day and we began to fight all the time. A few times, she'd told me that she hated me and wished I was never born. It hurt for a long time, and without my father, without you to protect me, she'd sent me away to a boarding school."

Nichole spoke softly, but still gently. Gauging his response.

"In a letter, one of two I'd ever received from her while away, my mother told me that my aunt Marla said we would all be better off if I was put up for adoption and she had agreed. She said she couldn't look at me every day knowing that I would do such a thing...that something was wrong with me, that I was an evil girl. They all turned their backs on me."

"Next thing I knew, there were court hearings and foster homes and finally I was placed with a really nice family for awhile. They changed my name from Nicholette Wilkes to Nichole Thomas. I cried every night, hoping you would come get me, but you never did."

"Eventually, things became easier and as I neared legal age, I decided I would try to find you. The family had nothing more to do with me. I was twenty six when I'd seen a news story on television and recognized you immediately. That case where you'd defended a father for abducting his daughters...at the end of it, the reporter commented that you had married Marla Wilkes. I couldn't believe it! I was outraged. I didn't understand how..."

Nichole stopped and looked at Morgan, whose eyes were still closed. A grimace of pain seared his forehead. Quietly, Morgan pieced together the rest of the story...one that he'd forgotten all about and one that had fueled his dark perversions ever since.

"I'd met Marla in the early seventies. We'd become close and at the time, I felt that I'd loved her. Our relationship had been strong enough and soon I would be introduced to her family, and she to mine. I didn't look like this back then. I was in much better shape and for a good many years seemed to catch the attention of many ladies...and...many young girls."

"After Marla and I had wed, her family threw a birthday party for her younger sister. She turned fourteen that year. Everyone had been in a festive mood -- Marla's parents held the lavish event at the Wilkes Estate. The adults used the festivities to network, as had I -- many influential people there. Hordes of children all over the place. I suppose the sun and alcohol had gotten too much and I wandered down to the pier, away from the crowd for a bit to clear my head."

"Soon, I heard lilting laughter darting behind me and when I turned, little Maddy was trying to sneak up on me. She came to sit beside me. She'd always taken a liking to me in a gentle fashion, and told me that her grandfather had bought a new speedboat. She asked if I wanted to see it. In fact, I truly did. I'd always fancied having one of my own. We stood, she took my hand and we ran along to the boathouse. She had matured quickly, though, too much for her own good. In the privacy of the boathouse, she came to me with a proposition to take her virginity."

"At first, I laughed. It had been absurd, and dangerous...and improper, but as she stood there before me, looking up at me with those blue eyes, I am afraid that I surrendered to my carnal lusts. I deflowered her easily and it was over rather quickly. The reality of my behavior hit full fury and I fled in a panic. She hadn't told anyone apparently, so eventually, I felt I would be safe and it could pass into history."

"Several months later, Marla had rushed in the door of our apartment, simply hysterical, and in a state, announced that Maddy was pregnant.. I was fully prepared for the consequences of my actions but as it turned out, young Maddy never pointed to me, never told anyone it had happened. I found myself relieved, of course, greatly relieved, for what I'd done was thoroughly illegal, yet at the same time, I recognized that she did not betray me, she seemed quite adamant of protecting our encounter."

"I would never know for certain that her child was my offspring, and in time, my doubts about young Maddy surfaced stronger, as Marla would recount many tales of her sister's lustful escapades. Just the week I'd learned she'd become pregnant, Marla was having a fit about a high school boy sneaking in and out of Maddy's bedroom. Everyone had seemed satisfied the young boy had been her lover, her child's father. I thought no more about it."

"In any case, before she would ever deliver, I had received an offer in Arizona at a law firm. Marla and I shortly moved away. That had been the last of it. Years passed and then in ninety two, we were invited to her brother's cabin on the lake. We made the trip and for the full of that weekend, we had a lovely time. That was the weekend in question, my dear."

"I'm afraid that my perversions had crept up on me again once I'd seen you, though I assure you, the exposure of my penis to you had been quite unintentional, as was my sudden, unexpected erection. I could not help myself . Watching you sitting on the floor, leaning over the towel, trying to get it folded perfectly smooth. It occurred to me how beautiful Maddy's little girl had grown up to be. I'd never seen you before that weekend."

"I'd not even considered, even remotely, the possibility that you were my own child. The thought never occurred to me. My arousal had erupted in spite of my feeble attempt at restraint. I was quite surprised when you suddenly climbed into my lap, throwing your arms around me."

"And yes, I do remember the way you positioned yourself quite deliberately over me that way. Yet, when you'd exclaimed how happy you were I'd returned, calling me daddy, your eyes sparkling so exquisitely, I'm afraid I took all leave of my senses and indulged my darkness once again."

"My head was in such a state, and when you touched me the way you had, well...I did not resist you. I didn't want to resist. I knew you'd thought I was your father and the idea took me over. I fell into this indulgence willingly...asking you...asking you to do that to me."

"It caused an enormous row, of course, and in the end, Marla had made sure to strangle the life out of me, well deserved, nevertheless. I'd only heard small portions of things over the years, but I had no idea that Maddy had cast you aside so cruelly. It wasn't your fault, my dear...it was mine, and shameful. Moreso, as I had made many attempts since to relive it."

"Needless to say, I was never permitted to participate any further in their family gatherings. What I'd done destroyed my relationship with Marla, of course, and while she rightfully refused to tend to my needs as a husband, I'm afraid that she gave me a rich ultimatum that included doing anything she demanded, or she would expose my actions. She'd had me under her blackmailing thumb for the next two decades. I could not afford by that time to have any of it surface and so I obliged my angry, vengeful wife, only finding some semblance of freedom after her passing."

Nichole's eyes blazed at the mention of the woman.

"I hated aunt Marla for what she did. It was because of her that you went away, and it was because of her that my own mother discarded me. When I knew she was dead, I felt nothing but relief."

Morgan tilted his head curiously.

"How did you know she had passed away?"

"Seven years ago in two more months. When I'd seen you on the news that day, I took it upon myself to keep up with you. I wanted to see you again. I'd been at the Life For A Life rally. I approached you and said hello. You smiled and shook my hand, but you didn't recognize me. You're the reason I moved to the Cove. I wanted to meet you again...to know you, but I'd never managed to find an opportunity until I'd seen your ad."

"I am astonished. My dear, I had no idea at all! I don't know what to say...I am so very sorry for all of this anguish you've gone through..."

Morgan glanced down and caught sight of Nichole's hardened nipples when the full reality of the afternoon came over him in a tidal wave.

"Oh...my dear god..." he'd said in a breath. "What have we done?"

Nichole's eyes began to water at the implication.

"Do you regret this now?" she asked him, hurt welling to tears.