Mom Dom Affair Ch. 05

Session 5

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Sister's POV:

I grew up listening to my parent's have sex. The walls weren't thin by any means, but I'd cut out a section of sheet rock, and pulled out all the interior insulation. I found out later that the insulation was special soundproofing stuff that they'd installed knowing that my room would be right next to theirs.

I hung a poster over the hole, a painting of some hunk raising a sword over his scantily clad wench.

For as long as I could recall, Mother would be moaning at least eight times a week, typically more. But Father's were the ones I really listened for. Hell, even now with me being in college, I can't even think of a single dweeb here who had half of the libido of my father.

It...it gave me strange inklings.

Though, oddly enough, I never masturbated to it or anything. I just listened.

In a weird way, I didn't want my imagination version of him touching me down there.

Until not too long ago, I was following in Father's footsteps and going for my Masters in Business. Mother's penchant for psychology, well, frankly I had always resented her for it. Seemed so shady, so manipulative, especially with her witchy personality.

But even she couldn't keep me from spending time at home every chance I got. Here I was, a grown-up finishing undergrad and still basically living in my bedroom when I wasn't at the dorm--which was anytime I didn't have class the next day.

At least, I was until this past summer.

See, I couldn't hear them moaning any more. Father might have taken Mother once a week at best.

It...it was frustrating.

Throughout the years, I'd found a unique coping mechanism for all that frustration, and no, it wasn't sexual. I was a runner. I lived for the runner's high.

Though, what really motivated me to keep going was, one day, when I was in my spandex leaving for the morning, I caught father staring at my ass. And damn right he should! It was a fine ass.

Wish I could say the same for my boobs, but alas, the paradox of a runner: fine ass, mosquito bump tits.

I did marathons, biathlons, triathlons, decathlons, even the whore of Babylon--okay, maybe not that last one, but damned if I didn't vent.

And then, I quit hearing them altogether. Father had quit taking Mother.

I don't know how many months he went without sex. Maybe 3? 4, even?

My heart ached for him. If only Mother wasn't such a witch.

This all culminated in a private party me and the girls were having. It was Becky's birthday or some shit, and everyone was going to bring their boyfriends. I asked Father on the date.

Nobody knew him. I never talked about him. Didn't have any photos of him in my apartment. I didn't even have social media to creep on. Father was my secret. And to advertise him would be to share him. I couldn't have that, now could I?

He showed up that night in a gray button down that was opened loose at the collar. Tuffs of chest hair poked out. The look was my suggestion. He wore tailored slacks (a birthday gift from me), and...black penny loafers--those were from Mother.

But, from the feet up, he was mine.

"Hi, Sweet," he greeted me.

"Hi, Daddy!" I bounced up to him, wrapped my arms around his neck--which was quite easy to do since I'd inherited Mother's height and had several inches on him, several more in my heels--and I planted a kiss on his cheek, one just a little too close to his mouth.

He was used to those affections and patted me on the back. Then he pushed me away, holding me by the arms, clinging to me there in the street, and looked me up and down. "You are gorgeous, Maggie."

I bit my tongue and cheekily rolled my eyes. "I know."

He shot me his special wink, the one reserved just for me and asked, "what's the plan for tonight?"

Ah.

I tried to appear sheepish, but damned if it was hard to do wearing a crystal blue cocktail dress. "Um...okay, so don't be mad. Promise?"

Father was taken aback. "Promise," he replied.

"So, my friend Jemma was having a birthday dinner. And, like, she was bringing her fiancé James, and Tasha was bringing Cindi, and Monique--oh my God, she's so pretty--was bringing Raul."

"Uh huh." Father was nonplussed.

"And, uh, you know I broke up with Gilbert, the one with the pocket protectors?"

Father chuckled.

"Uh, so I needed a date."

Father scratched his wrist. "Are you implying that I am not to go as your father but your date?"

Well, duh! But I didn't say that. Instead, I pressed into his arm. I was so close, my essentially non-existent boob was scrunched into it. I ground my nipple into him and faked remorse. "I...please? It's like they're all moving on without me. They're settling down, getting families, jobs, and I--" I snorted. "--I just had Gilbert."

Father didn't pull his arm away. He closed the gap and kissed my forehead. "Sweet, you are young, beautiful, smart, and--" he smirked "--dastardly."

I pouted my lips.

He continued, "surely, there is some other nice young man who would accompany you."

I'd anticipated this much. My next line was the make or break. There were two paths. I could make up some story about how I couldn't find anybody; they were all creeps; hell, even that I was abused or something. But that would all make Father feel like second fiddle. I would not allow that.

"I wanted to go with you." I didn't elaborate. At this stage, it would be best to knock him off balance, let him spend the night playing my words over in his mind, trying to parse their intention.

I released his arm and grabbed his hand. Though, I didn't interlace our fingers like lovers or anything. It was palm over palm, exactly like a daughter would do.

I didn't give him a chance to respond. I pulled him into the restaurant. He tugged against me once, stopping me short, but then he followed behind. I strut my ass, knowing he'd see.

The maître d' led us to a private room down a narrow hall, off isolated on its own. He slid the door back, bowed once, and then left.

All eyes turned to us. Jenna had her hand on James's crotch. Cindi was nestled into Tasha's lap. And most of all, Monique, that ebony goddess, sat straight with poise, tracing circles on Raul's palm on the table. Everything about her was exotic. Her hair was cropped short, sticking up in curly tuffs. Her cheekbones could cut glass. Her sensual lips could suck every last drop of a fat load out of even the tightest vagina--I know because mine's pretty damn tight, or so I've heard. And those big brown eyes would paralyze you with hungry primal lust.

The rest of them I didn't care about, but I saw Monique's eyes flash at the sight of Father. I mean, I didn't hold any delusions that Father was the most handsome man in the world or anything. But he was mine. And that made him attractive to Monique. She always wanted my things. That was specifically why I'd asked Jenna to invite her.

"Hello!" I waved like a bimbo.

"Hi" "Hey, Sissy." "Yo." "Mmmhmm."

They all greeted me in their own way.

I presented Father before them. "This is Jimmy."

Jenna raised an eyebrow at James.

"No, no," I corrected, "this is Jimmy." Then I pointed to James. "That is James. See? No confusion."

Monique huffed, yet, her eyes never quit tracing my father up and down. She was challenging me. Dumb bitch. We weren't even playing the same game.

While we made the rest of our introductions, I sat Father at our reserved spot next to Monique. I made sure to seat him right next to her. She thought I'd accepted her challenge.

The room was dim. Some Edison bulbs jotted from the walls. Red candles flickered in the middle of the table, highlighting scattered half-finished appetizers and wine.

Father shifted uncomfortable next to me. I snagged his arm and pressed it affectionally into the side of my breast. After all, he thought we were putting on a show, his comfort be damned.

The air was heavy, sticky even. The table full of sweat. The chairs, moist.

Ah, yes.

The part I'd neglected to tell Father.

This was a swingers party. And the air was stifled with the scent of stale sex. We'd just missed the first orgy, but perhaps, there'd be a second?

I know Cindi was eyeing me hungrily, and Monique, still staring my father down. Jenna and James were irrelevant. They just loved to watch. Tasha, well, she was just a fuck doll, free use, that kind of thing.

'Father, these are my friends. And soon, they will be yours.'

I clapped my hands together. "So! How bout some shots?"

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