Knock Me Up, Daddy

Kissing his daughter had reminded him of that but that was something that he needed to forget about, the sooner, the better.

His other son Andrew clasped his hand and then came in for a quick hug. "Hey Dad, good thing that you only had one girl," he teased. "I mean, you couldn't afford to do this for all of us, could you?"

Stan patted Andrew's back and laughed but it sounded more like a groan. "Absolutely not. After this, I recommend you and your brother live in sin or elope."

Andrew wiggled his eyebrows at him to suggest that he agreed and added, "Mom's looking for you. I guess you have to dance in a few minutes."

Stan headed to the table and took a deep breath. He had a few butterflies in spite of his training. This was going to be his big moment. He'd always felt like he was an adequate dancer. For a fifty-five year old, white guy with no real dance experience, he could shuffle back and forth in a slow dance with the best of them. Charlene wouldn't hear of it though and had sent him to dance school so that he "wouldn't shame our daughter on her big day." He knew that really meant he wouldn't shame Charlene but honestly, he was pretty sure all of the other Dads in the audience would understand. He did it anyway. Every Wednesday night after work for the last four months he'd gone to dance class and learned not to step on toes and how to count without counting out loud. There were even a couple of women there who had flirted with him a little, which felt good. Nothing to add to the list but still, it was nice to be noticed.

The DJ made the announcement, "and now it's time for Mr. Whiteside, father of the bride, to dance with the beautiful bride." Stan spied Melissa on the other side of the dance floor and walked to meet her. He offered her his elbow as he had this morning before giving her away to Steve.

"I've been practicing," he assured her as Melissa took his arm.

She giggled as the band began to play "Unforgettable". "Yeah, I know, Mom told me," his daughter came in closer and Stan placed his left hand on her waist as he placed her left hand on his shoulder. He wanted her close. In fact, he wanted her pressed up against him. If he were honest, he wanted her to forget herself and kiss him on the mouth as she had this morning in an embrace that meant a thousand things that shouldn't be. He wanted her to feel what she had done to him, the need that pulsed between his legs, the animal heat that still churned away inside even if he'd been turned out to pasture. Fuck, this was his daughter, he wasn't a pervert. Something was going on and Stand felt fairly certain it was the emotion of the day. He simply kissed her forehead before he twirled her and then led her back to face him once more.

Melissa looked impressed and remarked, "hey, Daddy's got moves."

"Tell your mother for me, will you?" he murmured as he twirled her once more.

Melissa came in closer, her hair brushed his arm, her breasts against his chest. "Thanks for this morning. I guess I just needed my Daddy," she said as she nestled in his arms and suddenly everything Melissa did was fanning the flame.

God, he had to get this out of his mind, Stan told himself. He whispered, "anytime, little girl," in a voice that meant something much different than Melissa probably thought it did.

When the dance was over, his new son-in-law tapped him on the shoulder. "Do you mind, Stan?" he asked with a grin. Steve, Steve the gym rat, Steve who talked about protein macros and reps as if it were a religion. Steve who still referred to his friends as dudes. Steve the tanning booth guy. Steve got his teeth whitened and probably got manicures. Steve put stuff in his hair that he called "product". Steve looked kind of like Matthew McConaughey, which Stan had heard him tell girls at bars time and time again. He was young and blonde and at least seemed like a gigolo. The first time he'd met Steve, Stan had really hoped that Melissa would have seen through his dog and pony show.

"She's all yours," Stan told him but he didn't mean it.

By quarter to eleven, the band had stopped playing the old songs and the DJ had started to play hip hop. The cake had been cut and the food was gone and the bar had reverted to a cash bar so the crowd was thinning out. Charlene had just gotten halfway through her third old fashioned and Stan took her hand and placed a kiss in the center. He inhaled her scent. It was the scent of home, her skin cream and the Chanel perfume that he bought her every year for Christmas. It was the scent of him and her tangled in damp sheets, quietly screwing in the morning before the kids woke up. It was the scent of her and the feel of her and Stan wished that he could drown in her velvety flesh tonight. "Let's go upstairs, sweetheart," Stan whispered before presenting her with her purse. He knew his wife, he'd spent thirty two years getting to know all of the little things. Like right now, after a full day in those heels that were a size 7.5 instead of an 8 because she wanted to say her feet were smaller, those shoes were killing her. It was the one bohemian thing she'd do, let him take her shoes off and walk in her stockings all the way to the elevator and then down the hall to room 1024. "Let me take your shoes off, Char," Stan patted his lap and watched as his wife smiled and gave him her left foot.

"I guess it's time. These kids can dance to this stuff," she shrugged.

He had her shoes in his left hand and before they left the reception, there would be one more thing. "Do you want a piece of cake for later?" Stan knew she did because she had been too nervous to do much more than move the food around on her plate.

Charlene patted her whittled down stomach. He knew that she was in a girdle under that dress and that she'd managed to lose about twenty pounds before the wedding but she'd wanted to lose thirty. "I shouldn't," his wife was as hard on herself as she was everyone else.

"Well, I'll get one just in case," Stan told her and watched Charlene's eyes light up as he handed her the piece of white cake. "You did great today," he said as they waited for the elevator. "Melissa was so happy."

"Thanks," Charlene said with a sigh.

Once they were inside the elevator, Stan patted her behind with his free hand. God, that ass. Back in the day, before it was confined in girdles and crazy support underwear and all of the other things that she strapped it down with. Back when it was free to bounce around in her tiny panties and a scandalously, short skirt, that ass was his undoing. He wanted to see it again. He wanted to peel the stockings down and free it from the punishing undergarments and feel the two fleshy, bubbles rise up under his hands.

The elevator bell dinged once they had reached the tenth floor. He followed Charlene down the hall and watched her butt and felt his cock stir in his pants. He imagined rolling her over onto her stomach as she lay in the center of the king-sized bed with the crisp, white sheets that were tucked so tightly under the mattress. He'd mess them up given the chance and he'd eat her ass out like it was the cake and dinner too. He'd eat her ass and burrow his nose between her cheeks and feel the heat rise from her simmering slit below as her big, beautiful cheeks bounced and pushed into his tongue. He'd turn her over and make her cum again. He was salivating to her head. Stan would spend all night sucking her swollen clit if she'd just give him a nod. It would be huge and hot and pulsing and if she raised her hips a little, that was the secret code that they'd had years ago, just a little raise of her plump bottom while he bathed his face in her pussy juices and Stan would slide his index finger deep inside her asshole. She had loved that. She used to buck like an unbroken pony under him for that. She had begged and pleaded, pleaded with him to stop, no don't stop, no stop Stan, oh my god, don't ever stop. He could almost hear her now, she'd squeeze and tremble under him until there was a puddle underneath her.

He was fully hard as Charlene took the card out of her purse and swiped the door lock. Once inside the room, Stan looked over at the big bed, front and center, ready to swallow them up. "So I was thinking," Stan told her as he set her shoes down on the floor and approached her from behind so that his wife could fully feel his intentions. "I was thinking that my beautiful wife might need a foot massage," he said before he pressed a kiss on the back of her neck. He swept her highlighted hair to the side and revealed the little hook at the top of the dress, "but of course, my beautiful wife would have to take her stockings off to get a foot massage. And it only makes sense," he told her as Charlene giggled, "to take your dress off if you're taking your stockings off." He tugged the zipper down and revealed the back of the bra and the contortionist underwear. He ran the metal tab down to the top of her hips. "Does that sound nice?" Stan waited. He throbbed for her now. He had such a taste for her, a longing to be in her arms and to feel her melt in his.

His wife cocked her head and smiled that slow, kind of buzzed smile that she had that told him she was relaxed for once. "That does really sound nice," and she reached around and tugged the zipper a little further and shimmied her hips.

Stan laughed as he watched. That was the woman that he'd fallen in love with almost immediately, so long ago. "Baby, here, let me," he nestled behind her and kissed the satin skin on her back, just past her hair. All that creamy expanse of skin was bare down to the bra. He could hardly wait to peel it all back and feel her softness. Stan was afraid that he'd forgotten how her naked body felt against his. He pulled the dress down over her round hips and let it fall in a puddle at her feet. Now it was just the struggle to get her out of the system of loops and pulleys that pulled this shapewear tight around her like she was wearing someone else's skin. "Now, let's get you out of this," he whispered on her shoulder and let his fingers meander down the slick strap of her bra. She felt that, the pulse of his cock in the front of his pants. She had felt it and if Stan wasn't mistaken, she pushed back.

Charlene wanted it too.

His hand cupped her right breast through the thick brassiere and then traveled down the front of her body, sliding along her belly. She was rounder now than she had been in the beginning, rounder and softer and she jiggled a bit. He could see when she walked to the bathroom at night wearing nothing but the nightie. He liked it, the softer expanse, the doughy weight of her all sweet, heavy flesh.

His wife hated it though and as soon as his hand paused on her abdomen, Charlene sighed. He couldn't believe that she didn't need him the way he needed her. She was dismissing him once again, "That's sweet of you but I think I feel a migraine coming on. I'm just going to take one of my pills and go right to sleep." Her migraines were the new code and that meant don't fucking touch me. Stan hadn't learned that as easily as he'd learned the one with her butt. "Do you mind sleeping on the pull-out, Stan?" she asked in a tone that meant it wasn't really a question, he was sleeping on the pull-out. "You know I need my space."

Stan thought he could cry but he choked it down and just nodded in agreement. "Yeah, sure Char. I love you. Good job today."

"Mm-hmm," she hummed before going into the bathroom. That was a relatively new thing, not even saying she loved him back and Stan felt the weight of the world on his shoulders by the time he got to the pull-out. What had he done wrong?

An hour later, long after Charlene had turned off the lights and was lightly snoring in the middle of the king-sized bed, Stan still hadn't figured it out. He'd been a good husband. He'd kept the same job at the property management company, gotten promoted to Vice President of Conventional Housing, whatever the fuck that meant. It was just a salary and no overtime really but it sounded good to Charlene's friends. They'd moved to Brookfield and added on to the ranch. Charlene still taught school but it was only part-time and they both knew it was just for her to have extra spending money. Besides being financially stable, he wasn't a drunk, he helped around the house and he'd spent a considerable amount of time with the kids. Unlike most of his buddies, he'd been faithful.

Well, except for the list but that was brief and Charlene didn't know about any of it, Stan reminded himself in the dark. Yes, there was Angela. It was a stupid little thing in the hot tub but he'd never fucked her and it wasn't like she wasn't asking for it all this time. Then there was that other time when he had been alone with his boss's daughter. She had been 22, maybe 23, in the back of a limo, coming home from box seats at the Brewer's game. Stan had tried to get out of riding with her but his boss had insisted. "Just make sure she gets home, okay, Stan? I can trust you with her and the rest of these guys are just assholes." His daughter had been drunk, she had been beautiful and she hadn't been wearing any panties under the sundress. When she'd shown him her gorgeous, waxed little snatch, there was no one around but the driver and who was he going to tell? Stan had touched her and felt her bead blossom under his fingers. Her dripping crevice seeped in his hand and the girl purred and pushed her hips into him.

When they'd arrived at his boss's house, the blonde had asked, "Want to come up and hang out?"

Stan had quickly refused. That was much too much reality for him but that hadn't stopped him later from touching his dick with the same hand that he'd used on her pussy earlier.

So that was two things.

The third didn't even really count but it was the one that Stan was the most ashamed of. He'd gone to a massage parlor once. It was one time in thirty-two years and the place was a nightmare. The girl was hideous to look at but once she'd dimmed the lights and put enough lube in her hand, Stan had cum like it was the first time. The whole thing took about eight minutes total, tops.

He looked at the clock on the table by the pull-out and noticed that it was almost half past two when he heard the door open and close in the room next door. That would be Melissa and Steve. Okay, so maybe this morning, kissing his daughter like that. Kissing her on the mouth and not stopping. Kissing her until he was hard and wanted to take her dress off. Yes, that should be added to the list.

Four things.

Four things didn't make him a cheater and it definitely didn't make him a bad husband, Stan reasoned. He didn't see how he deserved to become a eunuch. He'd been looking forward to this time with Char. The kids were gone and the pets were dead. He had a lot of vacation time stored up and before menopause had started, he imagined lots of Mondays off. He'd looked forward to days spent naked and a little buzzed. He'd thought that maybe they'd try some new things, some forbidden things that he'd always kept tucked away.

"God, yes," Stan heard the woman's voice on the other side of the wall. "Don't tear my dress, you fuckwad," Melissa was that woman and she was being undressed by a total fuckwad who was now her husband.

Melissa moaned and then murmured, "yes, just like that," and Stan bit his bottom lip as he imagined all of the things that his daughter might like just like that. His cock stirred between his legs and the head had already escaped through the opening in his boxers. "Baby, oh yes, oh yes," she called out and Stan groaned with his left forearm over his eyes. He needed to block it out. He couldn't hear this. He definitely couldn't let his right hand push down into his boxers entirely and release his cock.

He couldn't masturbate to his daughter, could he?

Stan thought it was probably going to become number five on the list because his hand had already gripped the base of his thick, needy dick and slowly moved up. He'd already started. There was no way that he couldn't finish this. In his mind's eye, he was in the room next door with Melissa, his precious girl. So beautiful, so fierce, so his daughter but right now, she was just a woman and a gorgeous one at that. A gorgeous woman who wanted it just like that and Stan had paid for the dress so he'd just reach around and tear the bodice with his greedy hands. He could almost hear the buttons pop and burst all over the room and his lovely daughter would be naked to the waist. "Oh, Daddy," she'd be a little frightened with the heat in his eyes and Stan would be enchanted with the sight of her full, firm breasts. Her little dollops of strawberry nipples that were hard and needed her father's touch.

Had he just thought that?

He had and he'd dripped precum as he did. "Yes, Daddy, just like that," she'd purr as he placed her in the middle of the bed and slid the rest of the dress, the train, the petticoats, the ruffles, all of it off. Underneath it was just Melissa, just his daughter completely naked for him, just for him.

"Little girl," Stan gasped as his right hand stroked faster. A continual stream of precum coated him, he was slick and ready to cum but this was too good. Stan told himself to slow down, take it easy and let the pleasure permeate every inch of his body. Stan hated that he needed it to last, the fantasy, the feeling.

In his mind's eye, Melissa spread her legs for him and showed him her lower lips. God she was pink and perfect. She was dripping and with two small fingers she opened her swollen flesh. Her lips were heavy and juicy and she purred as she showed him. "This is what you did to me this morning, Daddy," his daughter confessed. "I wanted you so much," there it was, the movement in her hips. She thrust her hips and her forbidden crevice toward him. Stan could feel his tongue escape the safety of his mouth as he crouched over her on the bed.

There was no way that he wasn't going to lick every inch of his daughter's body, Stan was drooling for her, starving. "Did you baby?" he asked. He was out of breath and all he could hear was the drum of his pulse that echoed everywhere. His heart was racing much too quickly and his dick was jolting in his hand and ready to burst.

"Please, Daddy," Melissa asked in a voice that was just a girl's, "I've always wanted you to make love to me." With that, she peeled her lips open a little wider and Stan saw her clitoris. It was large and almost red and quivered with anticipation and need and he knew that he would suck on her and feel the orgasm run through her body and enter his. All he wanted was to suck and gulp down his own daughter's sweet orgasm.

Stan came.

He came in thick ropes of steamy cum that covered his forearm and shot up to his chest. It was the biggest orgasm that he could remember and his legs clenched and released as the climax continued. He held his left hand over his mouth tightly to keep back the sound. Even like that, if Charlene hadn't taken a pill, she would know that her husband was in the throws of ecstasy. The pull-out creaked as he shook and gave his daughter every last droplet of all of his pent-up need for her.

He was immediately exhausted and knew that he couldn't even walk to the bathroom to get a washcloth so he'd just lay in it. Stan pulled the sheet up around him and felt the stickiness get on hand. He briefly thought to himself, yes, that was definitely number five. He also knew that regardless of how guilty he might feel when he thought about it later, he'd definitely masturbate to number five again.

***

Melissa

It had already frosted and it was only the middle of October. Even for Milwaukee, it seemed like it would be a cold winter. Melissa thought to herself as she turned up the furnace, it was perfect weather for snuggling. That was the problem, or at least one of them. There sure wasn't much snuggling going on, or anything else for that matter.