I Accept Ch. 04

Becky bit her lower lip as she picked out something to wear for the evening. Nothing in the collection was modest, though some were more scandalous than others. She debated on whether to start small or lead things off with a bang, until finally deciding on a simple but effective ensemble: a red-and-black plaid skirt, white knee socks, patent leather shoes, and a button-up white shirt. The classic schoolgirl outfit. Becky had no doubt her father would love it.

She got dressed right away, wanting to make sure everything fit. The white shirt she left unbuttoned, instead tying it in a knot just below her breasts. That left plenty of flesh on display, midriff and décolletage both - and it would come undone with a single pull.

Becky put her hair up in a high, tight ponytail to complete the look. She wore no underwear. It would just get in the way.

As she admired herself in the mirror, enjoying the girlish nature of her outfit, her phone buzzed. A text from her mother. Her heart quickened as she opened it.

[Rebecca,

I've been texting with your father while he is at work. He is very excited at the thought of further involvement on my part, and we have assembled a scenario for your consideration.

Your father would like to come home from work to find you and I waiting for him. You will be in "trouble" for some fictional offense I will concoct. Your "punishment" will be to perform fellatio on him immediately. You are to play contrite and regretful throughout.

Two additional notes:

1. Your father would like to conclude with a facial, if that is acceptable to you. I trust you know what that means.

2. We have discussed the level of my involvement with this task and have decided to defer to your comfort level. So please let me know.

Do you accept?]

"I trust you know what that means," she said with a soft laugh. There was no sense in lying to herself: the thought of her father coming on her face had rolled through her fevered fantasies more than once since this all began. She was definitely ready to make that happen.

As for her mother's "level of involvement" - that opened up some rather large questions. Did that mean the so-called "intimate contact" between them? Was she ready to have her mother touch her sexually, maybe even touch in return?

The thought sent a tickle of nervous arousal through her. She decided, after a moment of wrestling with it, that she would be up for that. Her mom was still an attractive woman, after all, even if she was supposedly done with sex herself.

Becky started to wonder if that "complete loss of interest" was as permanent as her mother had led her to believe. After all, she had said she'd found this new arrangement between Becky and her father to be stimulating...

She pondered. Could this bring her mother and father back together? Could she herself heal the sexual rift between them?

Becky snapped herself out of that train of thought. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Becks. One sordid task at a time."

Tongue caught between her teeth, she began thumbing a response to her mother.

[Mom,

I accept.

Re: the facial, yes I know what that is and I would love that.

As for your level of involvement, I'm up for anything. Please surprise me.]

Becky paused, thumb over the SEND button, before she added one more line.

[Also, please let Dad know he can be as rough with me as he wants.]

There. She hit SEND, feeling a flutter in her stomach - the same mix of exhilaration, nervousness and fear she felt every time.

She hoped it would never end.

***

That afternoon passed more slowly than any Becky could remember in recent history. She sat at her computer, trying desperately to concentrate on work to make the time pass faster, glancing occasionally at the street outside to see if her father was coming home early.

It was both exquisite and excruciating. She was anxious and aroused, eager to play out this forbidden scenario. She forced herself to work on the project at hand, trying to push away the lurid fantasies playing out in her head.

Finally, an hour before her dad's scheduled arrival, a text arrived from her mom.

[Rebecca,

Your father is on his way home and a few minutes away. Please come downstairs so we can be ready when he arrives.]

Becky set her phone down and drew a nervous breath. On her way out the door, she stopped to admire herself in the mirror one last time. She had to admit, she looked very cute.

"Let's do this," she said with a grin, and headed downstairs.

***

Her mother was waiting by the front door when Becky came down. She was wearing something slightly more provocative than usual - her yoga pants and a loose-fitting blouse with a low neckline. Becky sometimes felt a little resentful she hadn't inherited her mother's curvy but athletic figure - but she had assets of her own, and being so small and slight made... certain things easier.

Marilyn greeted her with a warm, reserved smile. "Are you ready, Rebecca?"

"Totally," Becky said, trying to control the quaver in her voice. "So, have you decided what I did wrong?"

"You left a frightful mess in the kitchen," Marilyn said amiably. "It took me some time to clean up and I was very irate."

"I see," Becky said with a mock-solemn nod. "That does sound inconsiderate of me."

"Very," her mother said. "And I warned you about it previously."

"I remember," Becky said dutifully. Of course, she remembered no such thing.

"Are you certain about your note regarding rough treatment?" Marilyn asked. "You still have time to go back on that, if you wish."

"No," Becky said, anxious but confident in her desires. "I want to see where it goes."

Her mother nodded and opened her mouth to say something more, but before she could, the front door swung open and Becky's father stepped through.

Becky had a second to admire the sight of him - crisply pressed suit, jacket and tie, hair perfectly in place, briefcase in hand - before she felt a hand grab her by the ponytail and twist. She yelped involuntarily, more from surprise than pain.

"Vernon!" her mother said, with a forcefulness she hadn't heard in years. "It's about time. Do you know what your daughter did today?"

Becky watched her father's face go from casual to concerned, then to mock frustration. Becky felt a surge of surprise. The conviction her parents had brought to this was deeper than she'd expected. This felt real. It wasn't, but it felt like it.

Her father put down the briefcase and shut the front door behind him. "Rebecca, what did you do this time?"

"Your daughter practically tore the kitchen to pieces," Marilyn said harshly. The hand that wasn't twisted in Becky's hair held her firmly by the upper arm. "It took me a full hour to clean up the mess she left!"

"Rebecca," her father said sternly, hands on hips. There was nothing jocular in his delivery. He looked and sounded angry. If this hadn't all been set up ahead of time, Becky might have legitimately been a little frightened. "Did you at least apologize to your mother?"

"She most certainly did NOT," Marilyn barked before Becky could answer, pulling her head back roughly by the hair. Becky whimpered, partially for the act and partially out of spiraling arousal. "She thought it was some kind of joke!"

"I warned you about this, Rebecca," her father said, stepping closer. "You were told to start pulling your weight around here."

"I'm sorry, dad," she said plaintively, hoping she sounded convincing. She'd had no idea her parents were such good actors.

"Don't apologize to me," her father scolded.

"Mom, I'm so-" Her words were cut off by her mother's free hand sliding around her throat, palm under her chin, thumb poised at her earlobe. She gasped, realizing her whole body was quivering with excitement.

"I don't want to hear it," Marilyn said. "Vernon, I want you to punish her. Now. She has to learn a lesson. Go sit in your chair, please."

Her father moved into the living room to sit in the overstuffed recliner he loved so much. Becky's mother hauled her bodily after him.

"You're doing great, dear," she whispered in Becky's ear. Then her voice rose and shifted again. "On your knees, Rebecca."

Before Becky could answer, her mother pushed her roughly to her knees with a firm motion. She cried out again, more for theatrics this time, reaching back to play at trying to pry her mother's hand away from her hair.

Quivering, Becky put her hands on her father's knees, her heart pounding. This was unprecedented territory, but she loved what was happening right now. She felt scared and safe and vulnerable all at once.

Vernon rubbed his chin, as if considering his next move, as if it wasn't premeditated. "What should we do?"

For answer, Marilyn let go of Becky's hair and throat - and reached down to pull her shirt open with one violent motion, exposing her breasts. Becky gasped in surprise that was only half feigned, and would have reached up to cover herself in pretend modesty, but her mother pulled her arms behind her back, still half in the sleeves.

"I want you to fuck her mouth," Marilyn said.

Hearing these words come from her mother's lips made Becky's heart jump with shock and amazement. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd heard her mother swear, much less say something like "fuck her mouth." It was unrestrained. Raw. Incredible.

Even though she'd already had her dad's cock in her mouth, more than once, something about the play-acting made it seem like the first time. She felt a fresh thrill of fear and arousal coursing through her, making her feel drunk.

"I think you're right," Vernon said, and reached down to undo the zipper of his pants.

Becky recovered from her shock long enough to return to the act. She whimpered and struggled, mind racing, wondering where the limit was. If she resisted too much, if she said no, it might spoil the moment. But, on the other hand, she had to do something to make the punishment seem at least playfully genuine.

She writhed and struggled in her mother's grip, conscious of the fact she was making her bare breasts jiggle in doing so.

"Mom, come on," she whimpered. "I said I was sorry!"

"Not sorry enough," her mother said sternly.

Still holding her daughter in place, she got down on her knees behind Becky and put a hand on the back of her head. Her dad, meanwhile, had undone his pants and now pulled out his cock. He was, of course, rock-hard.

Becky moaned a little at the sight of it. That wasn't play-acting - the sight of it aroused her, even as she marveled anew at its size. She already desired him. Being held down this way, restrained by her parents, kindled that desire into a hot flame.

Placing one hand on the back of Becky's neck, her mother pointed with her other finger - a familiar, motherly motion Becky knew well, now strangely recontextualized.

"Now suck it," she ordered.

Becky opened her mouth to acquiesce, but before she could say anything, her mother pushed her head forward as her father guided his cock into her mouth. Becky gave a muffled squeal, her mouth suddenly full. Her father let out a low groan of pleasure.

The next few minutes were utter delirium. Becky was vaguely aware of her mother stripping off her white shirt and holding her arms behind her back, while her father guided her motions with a hand on the back of her head.

Both spoke to her in stern, scolding tones, but later on, she wouldn't be able to remember a word of what they said - there was only the sensation of her father's cock in her mouth, the pounding of her heart, the racing of her blood as their volcanically sexual performance played out. She breathed heavily through her nose, the size of her dad's cock still a bit of a struggle, but nowhere as challenging as it had been the first time.

"How's she doing?" she heard her mother say.

"I don't think she's quite learned her lesson, Marilyn," her father said, twisting his fingers in his daughter's hair. Becky squirmed and mewled.

"Then punish her harder," Marilyn answered.

Becky mock-struggled enough to get her mouth free for a moment. Trails of spittle came with it, running down her chin.

"Please," she gasped. "Please, I promise, I'll be g-"

"No one told you to speak, Rebecca," her father said, and pulled her head forward again, rougher this time. His cock pushed into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat.

Becky gagged a little - but she had been practicing in her spare time. She had become much more skilled in suppressing her gag reflex, and was excited to see it put to the test.

After all, she'd been given an assignment, and had accepted.

As if aware of her anticipation, her dad twisted his fingers in her hair and began to pull her head back and forth, roughly, the head of his cock touching the back of her throat at the end of each thrust. At first, Becky felt her body twitch, and feared for a split second that it might all go wrong - but she made herself relax, opened her throat, and took it. Like a good girl.

The effect was immediate. In a span of seconds, Becky's mascara was running, her cheeks streaked with involuntary tears from the wonderful struggle of taking her dad's cock like this. He gave her an occasional moment to pause and breathe, and she paid him back with gasps, mock sobs, and whimpered pleas before he pulled her head down and put her to work again.

During all of this, her mother began to run her hands over Becky's body: down her back at first, then her waist and stomach, finally reaching up to squeeze her daughter's breasts, pinching the nipples.

Becky gasped in genuine surprise at the touch, almost choking for real in her shock. The sensation was far from unpleasant, though - in fact, it felt amazing: every bit as forbidden, taboo, and transgressive as she had hoped, on top of the lusty thrill of blowing her father.

"That's right, Rebecca," her mother said. "Suck your father's cock. You make him come."

Becky moaned her muffled assent from around his stiff member. Something about this seemed to have a profound affect on him, and he began to thrust faster and harder inside her mouth, his breath quickening and deepening.

Her hands now free, Becky placed her hands on his chest to brace herself as he plundered her. She could tell he was nearing orgasm, and she had to do little more than hold on while he had his way with her.

Suddenly, she felt her Marilyn's hands slip around her body, down her back, over her ass - and then under her skirt. Before she fully knew what was happening, she felt her mother's fingers brush against her clit, then begin to stroke quickly, expertly.

"There," her mother said. "There."

Pleasure exploded in Becky like a bomb. Becky all but screamed around the mouthful of her father's cock, her fingers clutching at him now in ecstatic desperation. He showed her no mercy in return, but put both hands firmly on her head and thrust even deeper, testing the limits of her endurance.

Becky could barely think around the incandescent array of sensations. Her dad's cock in her mouth. Her mother's hands between her legs. His rapidly approaching orgasm, and now her own. She felt it coming like a rising wave, and before she could fully realize how close it was, it was on her.

Now she did scream, her voice strangled, tears streaming down her face as her body spasmed and quivered, orgasm pulsing through her in blinding waves. Her hands flailed helplessly against her father's chest. Marilyn didn't let up, stroking her with deft softness, drawing more pleasure and fresh cries from her.

Vernon let out a loud groan, and suddenly yanked Becky's head back by the hair. She gasped, eyes closed, and felt the hot gush of his come splash against her face. Some of it got in her mouth, but mostly it hit her forehead, cheek, and chin.

"There," her mother said again, this time with a quiet satisfaction.

"Oh god," Becky wheezed, eyes still closed. Her hands hovered in midair, as if unsure where to go. "Oh god, oh go-"

She felt her father's cock slip into her mouth again, gently this time. Becky knew what he wanted. She took the shaft in her hand and licked his cock clean.

When she was finished, he pushed her gently to the floor. That, too, was part of the act, but she was grateful for it - her whole body was weak and shaking in the aftermath of the shattering orgasm she'd just had. Becky still felt like her heart might burst, with how hard it was pounding.

"I hope you've learned your lesson, Rebecca," her mother said as she stood.

"Yes, mother," she said dutifully, her voice raw. She had a feeling her throat would be hurting later, but she didn't mind at all.

"Good, Now please go get cleaned up. And keep this in mind next time you want to misbehave."

Becky suppressed a laugh as her parents rose and left her alone there on the floor. Keep it in mind? How could she possibly ever forget?

***

She gathered her shirt and made her way upstairs, still wet and sticky from the encounter they'd just shared. As she reached the bathroom, she giggled at the sight of herself. She was an utter mess - hair mussed, cheeks dark with ruined mascara, her face covered in sticky, drippy blobs of semen.

It wasn't what she'd call a pretty sight - but she loved how she felt. The "assignment" had been utterly breathtaking.

She washed her face, undid her mostly-ruined ponytail, and brushed her hair. She didn't feel like showering, so she stripped, cleaned herself up as best she could, and then neglected to put on any fresh clothes. Why bother?

Her heart had almost stopped beating fast by the time she was finished. Almost.

When she returned to the bedroom, she found a text message waiting for her. From her mother, of course.

[Rebecca,

Your father and I enjoyed this afternoon's assignment tremendously. Vernon has told me it was the culmination of many a fantasy he's entertained. You gave a wonderful performance.

I hope you found it satisfying as well, and I hope the "surprise" you requested was acceptable and pleasurable.]

Becky grinned as she sat cross-legged on the modest futon across from her workstation. It was positively sweet, almost saccharine by her mother's standards. She thumbed in her reply.

[Mom,

I loved it. It was incredibly hot. I would love to do more. Your level of involvement was perfect.

I wouldn't mind exploring that further.]

She paused as she reread her message, gauging whether or not she wanted to send it. Her mother had given her one of the more intense orgasms of her life - that was undeniable. But did she feel the same sort of attraction she did for her father? Did the thought of more sexual play between them turn her on in the same way?

Becky wasn't entirely certain. But she knew she wanted to find out. And there was only one real way to do that.