Jay, Tay, and the Fam Pt. 01

We were going on a trip together, at last!

To take a step back, let me explain. I graduated with my Bachelor's in clinical psychology about a year ago. After a short getaway with many of my closest friends in the much-appreciated warmth of Spain in the summer, I came back to live at home with my parents for a few months until my new job started. I had debated whether I should transition to my soon-to-be home city of Atlanta right away, or take a short respite with the family, for some time, but I am sure glad I chose my family over the allure of a new city.

So, now, to serve as the culmination of a very warm and loving extended family reunion, my mom and dad and us two kids were off to Jamaica for our final month together. Jamie and our mom were seated a few rows back, while dad and I were seated towards the front of the cabin. He was kind enough to give me the window seat, he's so sweet. And handsome. And strong. And sexy... Well, maybe I better keep that to a minimum hehe. Anyways, as I sip on my Coca-Cola, a wave of sleepiness passes over me and I rest my head on papa's shoulder. This is going to be so fun! Jamaica, wow... I've never been. We often traveled together as a family, but usually to more traditional locations like the East Coast, or to Europe. My parents are really starting to show some spunk you know, I might have to test their limits, just a bit, to see what they're willing to do :)

As I sat there reclined against my father, admiring him and my mother's sustained vigor, my eyes traveled where children's eyes have historically been not supposed to travel. As my sight hesitated mostly innocently around his crotch, I took notice of the rather distinct lines that curved and met to form the outline of what I now came to realize was his manhood. I took a sip of my coke through the bendy straw. My goodness. I am intrigued, to say the least. I guess I didn't mention, but my father fell asleep a little while back. I can't blame him; I feel about ready to drift off myself. And yet, something has caught my attention now. I glance up at his face, which shows an expression resembling unmolded clay before letting my gaze slowly take in his upper body before faltering once more to land somewhere slightly more erogenous. I am not sure what is passing over me, but I feel calm as I come to the realization that my father is turning me on! It makes sense frankly, he's hot meat. I guess that I have always subdued that sort of behavior amongst the family. Well, now it was just us two, and for whatever reason, I have taken notice, and my desire is building. Unsure what all that desire is leading towards, or yearning for, still, I feel good, confident that my feelings are well founded even while not being yet fully formed, and so I need not worry. I want to be myself and see where that takes me.

I have now been staring at my father's lap for several minutes, sipping at my sweet soft drink and daydreaming about Jamaica and the fun I am hoping our family will have there. Who knows, maybe mom and pop will like to try the native herb :) I for one am keenly excited to get into some scuba gear and attempt to meld with nature in those endlessly beautiful waters. I hope the fish like me, came a sudden thought. Then we can swim as a school over the peaked dune patterns in the sand, colored just so due to the larger sand grains rising to the surface. That will be nice. I have never been, shame on me, and I am thinking Atlanta may have other offerings instead. And for my first time to be in Jamaica? Woowee. I feel blessed... Speaking of first times, I think I'll see how papa responds to the light touch of my hand on his thigh. He's had a long day preparing the necessities for this journey in addition to us nearly missing our flight due to the backup on the 405. He's worked hard, and I might like to believe I could help him relax in this deserving state of his.

With that in mind, my coke bottle in my right hand, snuggled against my father with my legs crossed at the knee, wearing a pale pink sheer blouse, wide leather belt, and a mid-length light navy skirt, comfortable, old-fashioned, and yet still a relevant look in my eyes, I lifted my left hand, adorned only by a thin golden hammer-textured ring, and gently let it fall on my father's left thigh. I gave it a soft squeeze. He was warm and comfortable. I felt elevated that I might help him in some small way to relieve the tensions of the day and to prepare him for the adventure before us. I could feel the coarse, crossed threads of the denim fabric below my fingers and palm. I could do more to help, I knew, and so began to feel my way further up, then back down again, attempting to cover every inch of his accessible muscled thigh. He felt really great. My head began to warm, a smile began to lightly strain my cheeks, and my heart now clearly announced its newfound pace and rhythm. Still, I could do more, I knew, and I wanted to do what I could, the poor guy, working so hard for his fairly helpless family. It is not mother's fault, she had been busy tidying up loose ends at the family business.

My mother, Denice Weber, PhD, and my father Scott, an MD, had started a business together in their early thirties. They had patented some new chemical processing techniques that the pharmaceutical industry had wholeheartedly adopted after a passing period of skepticism from many of the larger players in the field. This had made them both fabulously wealthy, though you would never know it. They were so down to earth, and such friendly people, that their humble community accepted them without question or misled advance.

And so, mother had to take care of a few things while my handsome father helped us kids pack. I remember, he was so careful to daintily fold my underwear so as to project due appreciation and respect for the adult I had quickly been growing into while away at school.

"You're looking really well Taylor. Evidence of the positive and uplifting impact of your studies is as clear as day," my father said.

I reminded him that running track had certainly played its part as well.

"And the boys we've heard about have all come across as intelligent young gentlemen-to-be," he continued.

"And some of the girls too, Dad," I said with a wink.

He blushed. He was adorable. He was just finishing folding a pair of my red satin panties that I fondly remember having a few of my friends kindly help me out of near the end of the fall term prior. Mmm. That was a good time.

"Ooh Tay, I remember those!" She was referring to those same panties of course; she'd been there, in sort of a chaperone fashion, though she certainly didn't hesitate to join in towards the end.

"Yes, Jay. You would, you know. You're the one who bought them for me."

"Oh, that's right!" she said with a faintly nervous chuckle. "I almost forgot!" And we shared a knowing smile.

But at this very moment, my hand was beginning to feel the warmth and tingle of my father's very own member just a short journey away. I knew I could more, and I wanted to. I wanted to support the family, and at this moment, my father. And so, will light elation, I positioned my hand over his other thigh before slowly drawing it up until my fingertips met some resistance imparted by the bulge created from under his pant leggings. I persisted, and willed my fingertips to press on, to climb that substantial hill of a mushroom cap before reaching the crest and gently gliding over the rest of his faintly exposed shaft.

Suddenly, he moved in his sleep, and I almost lost my shit as I was awoken from my reverie. Regaining confidence in myself and the present situation, I reveled in what I was doing. As he had moved, I had stiffened in shock, but my hand never moved from between his legs. That was instinct, I believe. I wanted this to happen. It hadn't been planned, but I was willing it into formation. And now, it seemed, I was willing something else into formation, as well. Beneath the cover of his faded jeans, his cock had begun to change its form into something entirely more formidable. Comfortable, now, that his rest had remained uninterrupted, I conceded to let myself ensure his continued relaxation.

As I very softly caressed my father's thinly covered manhood, I noticed out of the corner of my eye the approach of a very attractive, African-American flight attendant. She was checking in with the other nearby flyers still awake on this somewhat extended flight. As she came to pass our row, she immediately noticed what I was up to. After a very brief hesitation of the heart, she smiled knowingly, and asked if I was enjoying the flight, and if there was anything she could get for me. I liked her already, and appreciated her attention. And so, I casually engaged her in soft conversation while I continued to stroke my father's ever hardening cock.

Our flight attendant's name was Sally, and she was born and raised in Atlanta, coincidentally, and so that helped us to string together a conversation while I continued to raise the flag, so to speak. As she began to become somewhat visually agitated, I did something that even surprised myself. I carefully set my coke bottle on the tray table to our side, and moved to now use both hands to begin toying with my daddy's belt. Sally saw this new progression, and hurried to keep the conversation going. How do you think you'll like your new job? Have you figured out where you'll be living yet? These are some of the killer spots you've got to try! And so on. I had his belt neatly separated now and began to pull it through the loops. Naturally, this was a little difficult, what with his mass pressing it against the seat, but with some earnest pulling, my father's natural leather belt lay in my hands. I handed this to Sally to hold for now, being completely unaware as to how I planned to put it back later, when the time came, and raised my glowing face to share a warm look with our flight attendant before continuing on. I adjusted focus and reached for the button at the top of his jeans, deftly slipped it through the loop, and I was one small step closer to what mysteries lie ahead. I have never set eyes on what I was working towards yet, but I did not expect to be disappointed. I grasped the upper flap of his jeans with one hand and began to pull the slider of his zipper down, tooth by tooth. I didn't want to keep my audience waiting uncomfortably so, and so began to pick up the pace.

"... And I've been going there for years," my flight attendant continued.

To my surprise, as I spread the flaps of his jeans to either side, I noticed the type of underwear my father had chosen to don that morning. Or rather had chosen not to put on. My father was going commando on a nearly 8-hour flight towards the Caribbean Sea! What a boss. Now I really wanted to please him. Subtly. While he slept. For now. And with my new friend, Sally, watching every move with bated breath.

I decided to just go for it; to just reach in there and pull out whatever I could find. And so, I did. I carefully slid my freshly-painted pink finger nails under the lip of his jeans, felt the presence of his manhood grow beneath my hand, took ahold of what I could, and attempted to deftly pull my hand out to the side without losing a grip on my catch, like a fisherman carefully guiding his well-earned prize aboard his craft. My father's penis was so much larger than I had expected, that I had to use both hands to pry away the jean material before finally pulling it out.

It was gorgeous. Absolutely magnificent. And it stood there right in the palm of hand, not that it needed much support. I knew what came next. I gave the shaft a firm squeeze before softly starting to lean forward while pulling my hair to one side and looking up to give Sally a loving smile. She blew me a kiss, and I returned my attention to the source of my desire. His penis was uncut, with such a versatile foreskin so as to appear perfectly circumcised when pulled down taut. I did just that, admiring the way the additional flesh moved to reveal his sculptured cockhead below. He was completely hairless and luxuriously smooth. I was in love, or lust. Both really, and I could wait no longer. I slipped my right hand just behind his lower back and the top of his buttocks, and placed my left at the uppermost portion of the inside of his left thigh to give myself some support during my next move. Everything was so smooth, yet tough. Ductile, and strong. I leaned the rest of the way forward and inserted my father's cock into my mouth for the first time. Not a little, but right to the back of my throat. I wasn't here to tease. I pressed my tongue against the backside of his shaft, and that was it. I was in heaven. I let out a moan that I was sure would wake him and the neighbors, and I began to salivate. I pressed his length against the entrance to my esophagus, and relaxed to grant him entry. Come home, baby.

To be continued.