Guilty Pleasures Ch. 03

"Wow!" I laughed, almost involuntarily. "I made a mess of you."

"Yeah," she grinned back in satisfaction. "You sure did." A bead of my cum formed on the left side of her upper lip, and she absently licked it free. She paused. "You even taste okay. Did you know that?" she asked almost absently, finally releasing my spent but still half-hard cock.

She popped lightly to her feet. "But I do need to clean it off," she said spunkily. "Don't go anywhere!" With that, she sprang happily off to the bathroom, and I collapsed back onto the bed. I heard water run for a few moments, and she was back.

She crawled onto the other side of the bed, naked breasts dangling below her. In response, I rolled over and up fully onto the bed with a light groan.

"Listen to you!" Mary laughed. "Trying to sound like an old man."

"I am an old man," I grumped, but I reached for her anyway.

We found our way to rest properly on the bed, heads on pillows and facing each other. "You better not be too old," Mary chirped. "I have more things I need from you."

I just kissed her. And she kissed me. We lay there for a while, simply making out. Our tongues explored, and we repeatedly robbed each other of breath. Sure, my hands kept coming back to her fantastic breasts, and Mary exhibited quite the fondness for my ass, but mostly we just held each other and shared our air.

I nodded off.

"Hey! Don't you nap on me," Mary said, poking me in the chest. Her hand went to my cock for the first time since I'd sprayed her face. It had never quite gone away, and it responded rapidly to her touch. Youth incited resilience in the old...

Her fingers stroked me quietly as I swelled back to hardness. "I want you to screw me," she said quietly.

Hmmm.

"Mary," I said, a little puzzled, "that was the most ambivalent way of asking that that I've ever heard. Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said with certainty, but not with the raw enthusiasm she had been showing up until now. "It's the ultimate bonding, right?" I looked at her almost askance. "I've done it before," she added swiftly.

Thank God.

"Then why the hesitation?" I asked.

"I am not hesitating," she replied quickly and convincingly. "I want you to have that complete feeling," she added softly, rolling toward her back and pulling me after her.

I refused to follow. "You want me to have that feeling?" I asked. I was beginning to have a suspicion. Young men suck. "What aren't you feeling complete about?"

"You seem to have ways to take care of that," Mary chuckled happily. "And yes, I'd like some more of that please. But I want to feel you take that pleasure inside of me."

"Mary, how many times have you tried intercourse?" I asked. My skin suddenly crawled at how weirdly paternalistic I suddenly felt.

"Twice," she admitted. "When it comes to sexy time, it is usually not on my agenda." She bit her lip, and confessed. "I can be kind of selfish, I know, but fucking is mostly about the guy, right?"

I didn't even wince at the profanity. I thought about wincing at it, but I didn't wince at it. I winced at her words, though. Big time. "What?"

"I mean, it feels great. And I'm getting impatient to feel it from you, Mister, but the guy is who really..."

Young men absolutely suck.

"I mean, both times, Peter was so sweet, and God, I've never felt him be more masculine." Mary was almost babbling now, perhaps trying to wash away my possibly thunderous expression. "And there isn't anything like feeling him spray inside me... But the guy is the one who ends up with his brains inside out," she finished softly.

"Whoever Peter is," I interrupted swiftly, "he is not sweet. He's selfish and inexperienced." And please God, don't let him be a current boyfriend. "Let me guess. All he had done is crawl on top of you, pound away, blast aside of you, and fall asleep?"

"He didn't fall asleep," Mary said defensively. Peter was past tense. That was good. "He even went down on me the second time, you know, after."

After? There might be hope for Peter.

I pulled Mary back up off her back, rolling over onto my own with her over me now, and I kissed her almost violently. "That's not how it is supposed to work, Mary. Ever. I'm going to fuck your beautiful, considerable brains out now, so you can see."

She tittered. "Mister H! I've never heard you say fuck before," she teased.

"I try not to use it," I said sheepishly. I tried not to use it around impressionable young twenty year-olds... "But let's do it," I added wolfishly.

"Oh yeah," Mary said happily, trying once again to roll back onto her back. But I held her close.

"No, no! You are going to be on top," I chuckled, pulling her lithe, round hips up and over me. She smiled in confusion as I positioned her, feeling her wetness warmly wetting my cock where it rested on my abdomen. "Sit up," I almost commanded.

She really did seem non-plussed, but she pulled her knees up under her and sat up. I watched as her breast rose up above me. More importantly, I felt her wet, curly snatch rotate and slide along my cock. My eyes almost rolled up into my head for a moment. Instinctively, she wriggled a bit on me, and I could tell she was savoring the sensation too.

"So this is Cowgirl, right?" she asked with almost intellectual curiosity. I knew no girl could give head that well and not at least have heard of woman on top... "It feels cool so far, but isn't it a lot more work for you like this?"

I laughed out loud. "Mary, this way, I don't have to do any work at all! I can... I will... but I don't have to. You are going to do the work." I held her hips tightly and rocked her some more on me. She took up the idea with gusto and was soon sliding along me and shivering slightly.

I let go of her hips and put my hands back to work playing with those titties.

Mary was grinding on me now. I could tell she was working her clit against my once again slick member. "Now what?" she asked, a little breathlessly.

"Honestly, It looks like you could just keep doing what you are doing until you get off," I said softly. "But I rather you lift yourself up, grab my cock, and put it where we both want it."

Mary considered my words, still working her snatch against me. "Maybe when you are done," she smiled, then worked her way up onto her knees more firmly. Her hand slid underneath her, cradling my cock. She lifted it up, looked down, and pointed me up and into her dangling curls. I felt my head slot easily into her opening. She looked at me, inquiringly.

I just rolled my eyes back at her. "This isn't a class," I told her sternly. "Quit acting like a student."

She nodded sharply, and began to take me in. She pushed herself down slowly, eyes widening at the sensation of encompassing a cock, rather than have it invade her. I wagered that it would make the next invasion feel more fun, too...

I sure as hell shuddered with pleasure as she sank down on me. My eyes were transfixed on her face as she lowered, but my cock was in a pleasure palace all its own. With a sigh, she came to rest on me. My cock throbbed inside her, and her walls squeezed it in response.

I pinched a nipple... fairly hard, and she gasped, rising up a little. Then she sank back down again. I pinched the other nipple, and she got the idea. In moments, she was pushing herself up and down on me, a lopsided grin forming on her face as we both grooved to the feel of her body releasing and then embracing my shaft again.

"Okay," Mary gasped. "This is fun!"

"Not fun enough, I can tell," I said to her. It was fun enough for me though, I can assure you. "Lean forward, rest your hands on my chest, then arch your back up," I said, remembering my ex's favorite posture, the one that always worked for both of us. I had a brief antagonistic moment where I wondered if she and I had truly worked it out together, or if some other guy had shown her. I banished the unpleasant thoughts. I called her my ex for a reason.

This was now.

Mary did as I asked, and her eyes almost immediately opened wider. "Oh shiiiiiit," she murmured.

"Uh huh," I said. "Still think this is all about me?"

She didn't bother to answer, just rocking harder on me. I let her go and enjoyed the ride.

For a while.

Then I pushed my hips upward, and grabbed her ass. I supported her a little... and began thrusting up into and out of her with sudden ferocity, careful to keep my shaft entering her at the same angle, and my head stroking her in just the same place as she had set before.

"Oh wowowow," she gasped, pressing her hands down harder on my chest. That made it harder for me to thrust up, but I made it work. "I... thought... you-ou-ou said that... I was going to... oh damn... do all the work," she gasped as I pounded up into her.

"I said," I grunted with exertion, "that you could do all the work. Not that I'd make you." I slapped up into her again and again, fascinated by the mesmerizing way her boobs bounced with each impact of my hips against her crotch. "Still doing it, ungh, for you?" I gasped.

"Oh yeah," she whined. "Yes it... yes. Yeeeeeeessssss!" she gasped as I felt her come on my cock. She keened that same long yes for a gratifyingly, stimulatingly long time before she suddenly pressed down hard, pushing me back to the mattress and began humping me again.

I relaxed and tried to catch my breath from my exertions, but that was hard, and her new, suddenly frenzied fucking had me worried that I was getting close to, and at a rapid rate. "Please tell me you have terrible period cramps and have to be on the pill," I grunted.

Mary laughed and panted hard. "No, I have easy periods. But I am on the pill because my father is allergic to the word 'granddad'!" I didn't need the reminder of Yancey, but at this point all I really cared about was that I didn't have to desperately push her off of me. And I'd have had to do it quick, because I knew it was going to be soon.

"Dad!"

Among the bad habits I have never broken my daughter of is the fact that she is a 'soft knocker'. I have never been able to get the idea into her head that you knock loudly because the whole idea is to let the people inside a house or room know the you are there. Becca knocks quietly. Too quietly.

And I had given her my spare room key...

And so, in the middle of things, I hear my daughter's voice calling, "Dad!" with a mix of embarrassment and... enthusiasm?

But the next word, which came as Mary twisted in shock toward the entrance, was "Mary?" And it was tinged with shock and scandal.

"What the actual fuck?!?" was a veritable buffet of negative emotions, featuring anger, fury, disgust, and general disapproval and betrayal.

Mary rolled off of me and curled up into a shivering ball, hiding her face. I was pretty sure that she was just cooking off a second orgasm when Becca walked in, and I hoped that she wasn't going to lose her mind with conflicting sensations.

This left me lying on my back and with superhuman speed, I rolled away from Becca and hurled myself to the floor behind my bed, staring back at my daughter with wide eyes. The last thing my daughter needed was to see my wet, engorged cock!

Then none of us moved, except for Mary uncurling just enough to look up at Becca. That frozen tableau seemed to last for an eternity as I died from embarrassment. Becca's jaw worked, words failing her.

At last, she heaved a deep breath of fortifying oxygen and hissed, "I can't even!"

"Becca," I started to say, but she literally shushed me and raised an imperial finger to halt any further attempts at speech by me.

"I cannot talk to you two here... with that bed in the room," Becca said with sudden, icy calm. She looked at her watch. "In twenty minutes, at precisely 3:30, no sooner, no later, you two will show up in the ship's library and we will talk. No one has ever used that room in the history of this ship, but it is public, so I will have to keep from screaming there."

She whirled toward the door. She took a step toward it, and paused. Without looking back she ground out, "The two of you should be able to make yourselves at least somewhat presentable in twenty minutes!" The door slammed behind her.

Mary and I stared at each other in horror.

*

At exactly 3:30, the two of us, slightly washed and fully re-dressed (or as fully dressed as Mary could be in that bikini top), tentatively walked into the tall, lovely space of the ship's library. The library had been something of a joke among us. We all walked by it every day, and no-one was ever in there. Carol had even gone through the door once, just to prove to us all that it wasn't just a matte painting.

Oh.

Fuck.

Becca had decided that she needed moral support.

She sat in a nice cushioned chair along the far wall, and sitting to either side of her were Carol and Anne, both looking very puzzled about what this was all about.

No no no no no no!

"Mister H, what is up?" Carol asked earnestly.

"Becca, I don't think..." I desperately tried to stop this whole train wreck.

But Becca cut us all off. "Shut the fuck up, Dad!" she snapped, which shocked Anne and Carol, and even Mary, who knew the reason. It shocked me. I am not in the habit of tolerating lip like that from my offspring. But I was painfully aware that she suddenly had about fifty Get Out of Jail Free cards in a shiny new, Mary-shaped box. I shut up and braced for impact.

"What is up," Becca said with silken menace to Carol, "is that I just went to check on Dad in his cabin, and found him...in flagranté delicto," she sputtered, "with Mary!" She pointed a finger accusingly at her friend.

About forty-eight train cars derailed before me. I watched in my mind's eye as one, filled with nuns and orphans spun through the air and over a cliff. I thought my daughter had discretion. I had taught the girl discretion. This was the opposite of discretion.

Please, Lord, let Anne and Carol keep their mouths shut.

"Whoa," Carol said hoarsely. "Like, doing it?"

"Yes," my daughter ground out through clenched teeth. "She was riding... Oh," she cut herself off in disgust before she creeped herself out.

"Mary too?" Carol asked me quietly, and I saw in her eyes as she asked it that she realized what she was saying.

"Yes, Mary," Becca spat. "Right there in..." she stopped and stared at the horrified Carol. Her whole body suddenly stilled, and Becca turned slightly in her chair toward her suddenly frozen friend. "'Too'?" she quoted. "'Too'?" she hissed.

Carol's silence was a confession. So was mine.

"'Too'?" Mary asked Carol. Her tone of voice was, small favors, more amused than jealous. But it was gratifyingly at least a little jealous.

"Dad!" Becca wailed quietly at me, imploring the situation to disappear.

"Leave your Dad alone," Carol said sternly, rounding on Becca. "I came on to him. He was like a deer in the headlights," she went on, coming to my defense. "It was super cute, actually, but it was my idea."

"Your dad is great, Becca," Mary added, coming to my defense as well in what I sensed was going to be an ultimately unhelpful effort. "And I chased him down as well. "But he wasn't all that hesitant with me," she added in an aside to Carol that, yep, was not going to be helpful.

"I broke him down first," Carol said.

Anne laughed.

Don't you fucking dare, girl! You were in the clear at least!

No no no no no.

"No!" both Carol and Mary said at once. Anne just shook her head, meaning the affirmative.

"Did you even hurt your knee at all, Carol? Or was that just a ruse," Anne suggested, grinning a fey grin that was most unlike her, at least in my experience.

Carol had the grace to look sheepish. Now she finds the grace...

"Then you weren't the firrrrst!" Anne actually sang.

My eyes went warily to Mary, with whom I'd been just a few minutes before.

She stared back at me, but then smiled. "I am seriously glad I got my shot in before we all got busted, then," she told me ruefully.

For the first time in my life as a father of a little girl, I gave profound thanks for the morals of modern hookup culture... I had known, we had all discussed that this was just a thing, and not a Thing, but still, to have three girls all find out about each other simultaneously... It was mind-boggling, but I suspected I might get out of this room some way other than in a variety of separate baskets.

But I forgot the fourth girl.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God," Becca groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I cannot even believe this shit!" She looked up at all of her friends and hissed, "Get the fuck out of here."

Instantly, the three's banter, and their slightly crazed, slightly jealous camaraderie evaporated. Anne, who had completely pushed it over the edge, was the first to respond. "Geez, Becca! I'm so sorry! We didn't... none of us wanted to hurt..."

"But you didn't tell me, did you?" Becca growled.

"No," Anne said in a small voice.

"Get out."

"Becca," Mary tried.

"Get out. The three of you," Becca said again, with iron will. Then her posture softened. A little. "We are all okay, guys... or we will be, once I chew my dad up and spit him out. Now, get out."

"Becca, don't..." Carol tried to say.

"Get. The. Fuck. Out."

The three of them quietly trooped out in a swift, orderly retreat. The cowards. They left me with... The Rampaging Daughter of Doom.

Becca just sat there, face back in her upturned palms. I sank quietly down in the chair beside her that Anne had vacated.

At last, Becca sat up and back in her chair, heaved a deep sigh, and looked at me. "Really, Dad? Really?"

I really did not know what to say.

"What the actual fuck, Dad!"

"Language," I mumbled automatically.

"Good grief," Becca rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Like you were going to correct anything my friends said in the last few days!"

A memory or two intruded into my mind. "Actually..." I said, almost to myself.

Becca laughed. A deep, rich, genuinely amused laugh. "Oh my God, you did!" She said gleefully, pointing a finger at me. "You corrected one of my friends F-bombs... with your dick inside her," her laughing tone had segued back into a snarl as she finished the sentence. "Listen, Dad," she went on, leaning toward me, "I actually appreciate you keeping my vocabulary in the civilized range, but right now, for the purposes of this fucking conversation, I am going to use whatever shitty goddamned vocabulary I fucking well want to. Got that, Asshole?"

In his first moment of true restraint in five days, the asshole shut up and got it. She stared at me some more. Honestly, I would have rathered that she yell at me.

She shook her head. "I mean, I was half-way to coming to grips internally with the Mary situation before you came in here and my moral backup became a fifth column," she sighed. "And I can't help but feel it is all my fault."

"What?"

"I mean, I have fretted a lot about you and your non-existent, previously non-existent, sex life, Dad," she said miserably. "And I have known all of them have had inexplicable crushes on you forever."

"Inexplicable?" I could not stop myself from asking.

"In. Explicable. You are a forty-five year-old man, Dad, who is not in nearly the shape he used to be, who corrects people's profanity, and who won't even let a twenty year-old who isn't your daughter have a fucking White Claw. Whatever," she finished, throwing up her hands in the air. "You feed them all the time, so that's probably it. Anyway, I should have seen one of them trying to fix my worries."

"You didn't..."

"I most certainly did not suggest that any of them 'fix your problem,' Dad!" Becca said indignantly. "I may have thought about it..."

"What?"

"Not one of them! They are my closest friends," she snapped. "Besides, you always acted like none of them were alive." She heaved another deep breath. "The idea of getting Stephanie to hook up with you did enter my mind. You used to check her out all the time."